Flying Solo

Masturbation: How do I love thee?  Let me cunt the ways…

I started masturbating when I was thirteen years old and have been enjoying it ever since (like almost everyone else on the planet).  I struggled with some guilty feelings in the early years, but managed to work all that silliness out (mostly).  For most of that time, I was what I would describe as a casual masturbator.  I would do it when the urge came over me, have myself a nice little cum, then forget about it for a few days until I got that funny feeling down there once again.  It was nothing more than a pleasant diversion that I turned to once or twice a week.  I thought things would change when I got married and had a cock at my disposal at some point each day, but I discovered that there was still a unique satisfaction that I got from the act of being alone and fingering my pussy to orgasm.

Then I started writing porn.  My masturbation sessions went from a couple times a week at most to a several times a day.  This was a source of concern for me at first, but now I can’t imagine how I survived on only an occasional diddle.  Granted, many of my sessions today are not the luxuriant episodes of self-pleasure that women are often encouraged to treat themselves to, but rather furtive little affairs conducted quickly and quietly in hidden corners of the house.  As I’ve  mentioned, with my girls around I’m often reduced to a hand down my pants while they’re in the next room, or I have to crouch in the bathroom like a hunted animal and beat off as fast as I can before getting interrupted.  My best sessions lately have been my Midnight Runs, where I sneak out of bed late at night, go downstairs, and can take my time with myself.

So, needless to say, I’ve been thinking about masturbation a lot more these days.  One thing I’ve been turning over in my head is how it works in my relationship.  I know my husband masturbates, and I assume it’s on a close to daily basis.  Any woman who thinks her man isn’t jerking off constantly is in denial as far as I’m concerned.  I have absolutely no problem with this, and when I think about it, I have to admit that it turns me on a little.  So, he sneaks and does his thing, and I hide and do my thing.  This got me thinking about how hot it would be if we talked about this and agreed that it’s okay for us to openly masturbate around each other.

I love the idea of walking into our bedroom and finding him stroking his cock to some online porn.  And it would be such a turn on to be able to drop my panties and just finger fuck myself to orgasm while we’re sitting around watching TV together at night in the living room.  Of course we often masturbate together as part of our lovemaking, but that’s more of a mutual thing that is an entirely different experience than when I’m alone.  It’s more a matter of putting on a show for him than it is about indulging myself.  Interestingly, as I fantasized about how an open masturbation arrangement would work with my husband, I realized something interesting.

As much as I’d enjoy being able to guiltlessly play with myself with him around, I’m certain that I would continue to also do it in private.  For me, there’s an element of doing something that you’re not supposed to be doing that makes it more of a thrill to masturbate.  Maybe it’s because of the household I grew up in, but being secretive and furtive about playing with your naughty parts adds to the excitement.  The fear of being caught, no matter how remote, gives jacking off an edge that it wouldn’t otherwise have.  If my husband came downstairs during one of my Midnight Runs and caught me sprawled out on the floor with three fingers jammed in my twat, I’d be mildly embarrassed, but there would be no real consequences (beyond him jumping on top of me and fucking my brains out).  But just the threat of that small sting of being caught is enough make it something more than what I could get out of being free to diddle openly.

Based on all this, I’ve decided that for now I’m going to keep to the status quo in regards to our marital masturbation habits.  I guess to a certain degree I’m still that scared and confused little girl hiding in her room in the dark, silently humping her pillow under the covers with her bluebird underpants pulled down around her thighs.  That being said, I’m toying with the idea of trying to catch my husband whacking off in a way that will allow me to spy on him.  I know this would be an awful violation of his privacy, but I keep thinking about it.  Please talk me out of doing this!

P.S. On a related note, you may have noticed that I use terms like “beat off” and “jerk off” when referring to my own, decidedly feminine, masturbation activities.  I think it’s supremely unfair that the guys have dozens of awesome euphemisms for masturbating, and the women are left with a collection of incredibly lame terms that no one ever really uses.  Paddling the pink canoe?  Polishing the pearl?  Flicking the bean?  Ugh.  I don’t even like the phrase jilling off.  This is why I’ve decided to co-opt some of the guy terms that I like.  Beating off is great for when I want to describe really pounding my fingers into my cunt hard and fast.  Jerking or jacking off makes me think more of stroking my clit.  I love the word “wank,” but I feel weird about using this Britishism as a Yank.  Okay, I just thought I’d clarify that.  Time for me to go rub one out!

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Scouts On Her

My fantasies tend to go in cycles.  One particular fantasy will bubble up from my subconscious, like the one about my father catching me reading his porn, and I’ll masturbate to different variations of it over the course of a week or so until the next scenario arises and I fixate on that.  This week, I’ve been making myself cum to a fantasy that I haven’t thought about in years – probably not since my college days.

My mom was a Den Mother (or whatever they’re called) for my brother’s Boy Scout troop.  She only did it for about a year, but I distinctly remember all the boys coming to our house in their cute little uniforms.  I would help set out the Hi-C, pretzels and cookies, then Mom would send me away to a friend’s house knowing that I would make a pest of myself and distract the boys during their meetings.  This made me want to be there even more.

In this particular fantasy, my mother has me stick around.  After the usual scouting activities, she sends all the boys down to the “rumpus” room in our basement.  She then takes my hand and brings me down there, too.  She explains to the troop that they’re going to learn about the differences between girls and boys.  The cushions from the old sofa are laid out on the floor in a row.  My mother instructs me to take all my clothes off and lie down on the cushions.  I do as she tells me.

Some of the boys are too embarrassed to look at me, but others stare in disbelief at my nakedness, including my brother.  Hair sprouted down there for me only a few months earlier, and my breasts had barely begun showing.  Once I’m lying on the cushions, my mother has the boys gather around in a circle.  They sit Indian style, or on their knees.  My mom points out my exposed girl parts and explains something about them.  It’s humiliating, but also exciting to be naked in front of everyone.  She goes on to explain why all the boys’ penises are getting hard.

Mom instructs the troop to unzip their pants and take their stiff pricks out.  After some giggling and comparing, she gets them to settle down.  My mother tells me to open up my legs nice and wide, and invites each of the boys to come closer and inspect my vagina.  Some boys take a quick look then go back to their spot.  Others inspect me more closely, and a few are bold enough to spread my lips apart for a better view.  Some of the boys in the circle begin tugging their hard-ons.  My mother paces around the group, watching with perverse approval.

My brother is one of the boys who spreads my pussy open.  He’s also the first one to touch my budding breasts.  After him, all the other boys touch my nipples and squeeze my little boobies as well.  I know I’m being used as a sex object, but I don’t want it to stop.  After each of the  boys has had his turn, my mom tells them that they should all rub their dicks really fast, and when they’re ready they should squirt anywhere on my body they want, except on my face.

Some of the boys start jerking right away, others are more shy.  My mother whispers something to my brother, and he rubs himself slower.  The first boy cums on my chest, then the next gets between my legs and shoots on my pussy mound.  All the other boys are now jacking themselves hard around me.  Each of them takes his turn thrusting his stiff cock at me and shooting his cum on my body.  It’s degrading, and yet I love every second of it.  Some do it on my chest, others on my belly, but most of them want to squirt on my pussy.  My brother is the only one who doesn’t empty his cock onto me.

My mom goes around and cleans off the tips of the boys’ cocks for them with a washcloth, then they all head upstairs.  She pauses at the bottom of the steps and tells me not to move.  I wait there alone, feeling the cum dribbling down my sides and between my legs.  Ten minutes later, my mother comes back down with my brother.  She has him strip off his uniform, and tells him that he can now take his turn.

My brother moves so he can see my cream-covered pussy and begins stroking himself.  While he’s doing this, I notice my mother slide her hand down the front of her pants.  I ask her if I’m allowed to touch myself, and she nods.  I begin rubbing my sloppy, jizz-drenched pussy as I watch my brother jack off over me.  The next time I look at my mother, she has her pants pulled down and her sweater pulled up.  She’s masturbating her hairy pussy with one hand, while squeezing her fat tits with the other.  My brother begins moaning and bucking his hips.

“Cum on her face,” my mother tells him.  “Cum all over your sister’s pretty face.”   My brother moves to obey and I see him jerking only inches from me.  I can hear my mother moaning as the sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her sopping wet pussy gets louder.  I open my mouth wide.  When my brother sees this, he tenses up and his first spurt of cum lands on my tongue.  “Oh God, that’s it,” my mother cries out from nearby.  I swallow my brother’s cum as he continues to jerk off and cover my face with more and more of his warm boy spunk.  I can only open one eye, but that’s enough to see my mom convulsing in the throes of an intense orgasm that was brought on by watching her naked son and daughter masturbating together right in front of her.

Whew!  I’ve gone and gotten myself all worked up now.  Guess what I’m going to be doing as soon as I finish this post!  It’s important to remember that I first a came up with this fantasy when I was 16 years old, so it wasn’t so weird that I was getting off to thoughts of young boys.  Yes, I know it’s weird that I’m still doing it at my age, but while I’m playing with myself I’m still that horny young teenager in my head.

When with this fantasy first came back to me last week, I was cumming around the time the boys were inspecting my pussy.  When I got past that point, I was getting off during the part when they were shooting their loads on me.  The last couple times I used this scenario, it wasn’t until my brother, then my mom, came that I climaxed.  Some of the variations involve my mother openly masturbating as the troop investigates my developing body, or her telling me to lick the tips of their cocks clean instead of her using a cloth to do it.  Another was that she makes my brother fuck me before cumming on my face.  I can’t wait to find out which of my depraved teen fantasies surfaces next!

Do you have any fantasies from your youth that you still use to get yourself off?

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O Brother

I began fantasizing about my brother when I was 16 years old. I didn’t really understand it as incestuous at the time, but more that he was a good looking guy, I was a horny girl, and I was naturally attracted to him. Sure, we’d had our normal sibling fights, but as we got older he was obviously looking out for me. Knowing that my big brother cared enough about me to act as my protector was a major component in what turned me on when I thought about him.

Several people have asked me if I would fuck my brother now. I was way too shy and insecure to let on that I was sexually attracted to him when I was a teen, but what about now that I’m a slightly less shy, experienced woman? The short answer is: No. I have no intention of coming on to my brother, nor would I sleep with him if he showed interest in me now. As the boring, conservative housewife that I am, I would not jeopardize his marriage, or mine, to satisfy my juvenile lust. He has a wife, who I am good friends with, and a son, who I adore. I would never do anything that might compromise his marriage or disrupt my nephew’s happiness.

Even if he was single, I have my own husband and family to consider. As much as I’d love to know what it feels like to wrap my legs around my brother as he fills me with his cock, I wouldn’t be willing to trade my current life for that fleeting perverse joy.

Now, if neither of us were married, that would be a different story all together. Absent all the immediate complications of spouses and children, I would probably fuck my brother in a heartbeat. Yes, the rest of my family would disown us if they ever found out, but I’d be willing to take that risk to realize this twisted fantasy of mine. I have a strong sense that my brother would be an excellent lover, and it would only be made better by the illicit nature of our forbidden union.  If I had to answer this question three months ago, I would have likely given a different answer.  Since I’ve been able to open up about my long hidden incestuous desires through my writing and my blog, I’ve given myself permission to indulge in these fantasies without as much guilt, and gone so far as to consider the possibility (however remote) that I could (in the right circumstances) actually bring myself to act on them.

As I’ve mentioned, I still fantasize about my brother to this day. When I do, we’re both still in our teens. Perhaps I’m afraid that if I think about us getting together as we are now that it will be that much more likely to actually happen. I’d like to think that he’s sensible enough that he wouldn’t let something like that happen, but who knows what the future may bring…

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Photophobia

Surprisingly (to me), the consensus appears to be that I should definitely stick to writing incest stories.  It is true that this genre holds the most appeal to me (followed closely by masturbation and voyeurism/exhibitionism stories), and so it makes sense that I continue to play in this category.  I was thinking, however, that there could be an interesting middle ground.  In order to satisfy my curiosity about other fetishes, I was thinking that perhaps I could try the occasional hybrid story where I combine incest with another kink.  For example, a wife cuckolds her husband by sleeping with her brother, a son comes home to find his parents having a swingers’ party in the middle of the living room, or a dominatrix daughter turns her father into her sex slave.  This way I would have a good excuse to research new kinks and still write about the taboo family fetishes that get me off so well.  Thoughts?

On a completely different note, there’s something I want to address, despite the fact that it probably won’t reduce the “problem.”  Not that this will come as a shock, but I get several requests each day for pictures of me, or, at the very least, questions about whether or not a pic on my blog is of me.  I decided before I began playing online that I could only share my fantasies and porn stories if I remained as anonymous as possible.  As part of this, I determined that I couldn’t risk sharing pictures of any kind.  No nudes, no nudes that don’t show my face, no clothed, no clothed with my face blurred, no pics of my underwear or sex toys or even my stupid cat.  I elected to keep to this rule both for the web in general and for individuals.  I have various reasons for doing this, all of which you can probably guess.

First, I can’t risk being recognized by anyone who knows me.  Being identified with my online secret identity would pose huge issues for me and could very well cause irrevocable problems within my family.  I know the chance of this occurring is remote, but for all I know my dad, my next door neighbor, and the woman who wants to steal my husband all read this blog, Lush, or the other sites that I post on.  Even with my face covered, there will always be distinguishing features and marks that could give me away.  Plus, I’m no super techie, but I do know that there are ways to find information in image files that I couldn’t be bothered spending the time to try to remove.

No matter how much I trust someone, I won’t send them pics regardless of promises not to share them.  There are millions of pics and videos on the web that are there because men promised they would erase the pics/vids and a woman believed them.  I will admit that I’m happy about this because I love seeing things that I wasn’t meant to see, but I don’t want to become yet one more float in that parade.  I know I recently Twitted about my wanting to be an exhibitionist, but I also mentioned that I wasn’t actually brave enough to do anything about this fantasy.  I was also referring more to exposing myself to, or being watched by, a stranger.  Sending someone an e-mail with a naked pic doesn’t hold the same allure for me, nor would it turn me on in the least.

I have to admit that I’m a bit baffled by the demand for pics of me.  There are trillions, if not zillions, of pictures and videos of women on the interwebs showing off every conceivable part of their bodies and doing all manner of depraved sex acts.  And most of them are much hotter than I am!  Showing everyone my pussy would be nothing but a big anti-climax (pun intended).  It’s just a plain ol’ pussy that’s survived two kids and doesn’t do any special tricks.  My tits are just tits, and my butt is cute but instantly forgettable.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my body, but I can assure you that seeing it won’t enhance your enjoyment of my stories any!

I know it’s not much of a consolation, but I did cum across a video a few weeks ago that features a woman whose body is an almost perfect match to mine.  Her face is even similar enough that people would assume we were sisters if they saw us together.  The one thing that definitely isn’t the same is our hair – mine is a little shorter and much better than hers!  The other difference is that I haven’t fucked a rubber dong on my dining room table (yet).  You can find the video HERE.

I’m sorry that I can’t be more forthcoming with pictures, but hopefully my willingness to expose myself to you through this blog and my stories will be enough to keep you sufficiently stimulated. 

Thanks for understanding,
-Rachael

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Fun with Fetishes

Before my first tentative investigations into online porn, I was almost clueless about fetishes.  I knew there were people out there into cross-dressing, bondage, feet, and swinging, but I never knew anyone who engaged in any of these kinks (and still don’t, as far as I know).  It was all a very vague and remote world to me.  Then, as I began to troll through the internet with my panties down around my ankles, I became aware of all sorts of fetishes I never would have guessed existed: diapers, smoking, ball busting, pee, pony, amputees, spanking, latex, panty sniffing and on and on and on.  A lot of these kinks still seem a bit remote and unreal to me.  I find it difficult to understand how someone can get aroused by many of these things, but then I think about myself and my little fetishes.  Most people can probably identify with my masturbation fetish, but I’m sure a lot of people out there couldn’t fathom being sexually attracted to close family members in the way I am.  I therefore try to remain as open minded and accepting of other people’s freaky kinks, even if I don’t understand them.

Along those lines, I’ve had a request from a reader to write a story about a cuckold/humiliation fantasy (Hi O!).  This is one of those fetishes that I have a very difficult time wrapping my head around.  Maybe it would be easier if I was a man, or at least a certain type of man, but as a woman its appeal is somewhat elusive to me (though I’m curious to learn more about it).  As much as I love writing about incest (and have a stack of story ideas I’m eager to develop into stories), I was thinking that it would be fun and educational for me to perhaps explore fetishes beyond my own personal preferences.  My worry is that I’d get it all wrong and do little more than annoy the folks who are into that particular kink.

Do you think I should venture outside my comfort zone and consider writing about non-incest fetishes?  If so, what fetish would you most like me to take on? (And please don’t say poop!)

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