Just for a second, just to see what it's like.

You give the musky cock a squeeze, eliciting a groan from the the complete stranger on the other side of the wall before breathing in one last lungful of the heated disgusting air of the waist level of the booth.

Standing up fully and gently dropping your loose shorts, an easy feat considering they're held on completely by your feminine hips and the drawstring, you make sure to step out of each leg hole and not let the shorts touch the disgusting floor of the booth, even though, you notice with revulsion, the sickly yellow seed from the first cock that you wiped off of your hand has dried in a patch on the butt of the shorts.

His meaty cock is slick, dripping with your saliva; your pussy is so wet and ready that it feels like you've rubbed oil between your thighs. You can do this. Grimacing a bit, you turn around and bend over at the waist, feeling the blood rush to your head as you use one hand to maintain balance and the other to grope for the warm throbbing man meat hanging from the wall behind you so you can line it up with your brand new pink pussy.

There's no turning back, once you've lost your v-card as a girl there's no getting it back, or redeeming your manliness. Even when you make it to the end of the 48 hours and change back you'll always know that you took a throbbing african turkey baster in your guts, completely of your own volition, something no real man would ever do.