The cubicles were absolutely fantastic places. They walls were disgustingly dirty - completely covered in sex graffiti, and indeed old and flaky sperm...splashes and drips. Whole stories were scribed on there. Some had been there years, and I mean years. All had their use. I admit to wanking over the same stories many many times, on my quieter visits to the cottage. Many of the stories featured graphic, blatant kinky sex, and some were more generalised. There wasn’t much gay talk – it can all be. Instead of enjoying the moment like I used to, I was worried about the way my body looked. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he still found me attractive when I saw nothing but hideousness when I looked in the mirror. I tried to answer and felt my eyes fill with tears. I hated letting him see me upset about this, I wanted to control my feelings more than anything in the world. Such an odd emotion for a self-proclaimed Brat who never cared about being dramatic."Baby, I can tell you're. More

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