Evolution of a Perverted Woman

I’ve been thinking about my early sexual experiences (or lack thereof) and my first family fantasies. I’ve been able to make a few interesting possible connections between those and my current perversity. I thought you might be curious about the results of my self-exploration.

As I’ve said here before, my taboo fantasies began with dirty thoughts about my brother (starting when I was about 15). It began with thoughts of seeing him naked, and him seeing me. I then zeroed in on seeing his penis naked – which before that was just a vague “thing” that was “down there.” I was woefully undereducated about sex when I began having these fantasies, so how I envisioned things was extremely naïve and, frankly, childish.

I was ashamed and embarrassed by these fantasies, knowing that they were wrong. I would try to force myself to think about other boys when masturbating. It would work most of the time, but about once a week I’d fall into fantasizing about my brother. It was those days (or nights) that I always seemed to orgasm quicker (and better). After a while, I gave up and just let myself fantasize about whatever was making me horny at the time. This gave me the freedom to think about all kinds of scenarios with my brother. Me catching him playing with himself. Him walking in on me getting out of the shower. Me spying on him with his girlfriend. Him rescuing me after I went skinny dipping and someone stole all my clothes left on shore.

So, yeah, nudity was a big feature. Kissing was my idea of major sexual expression, so that was often a centerpiece of my fantasies. Then, as I grew and bit-by-bit learned about the realities of life, things became more sexual. It was a lot about seeing my brother’s cock getting hard. I was fascinated with the concept of a penis going from small to big, and from soft to hard. I often wished that boys in school didn’t try to hide it when they had a boner. I’d have loved to have seen them walking around with big bulges in their pants! (Yes, I was an inveterate crotch watcher – then and now.) It was also so different than the more subtle changes a woman’s body goes through when sexually aroused. Sure, there are signs, but nothing as conspicuous as a big ol’ hard-on!

It wasn’t right away, but eventually my Dad began to infiltrate my fantasies. It started as him catching me doing something naughty. Sometimes by myself, but often doing naked stuff with my brother. He’d be angry and he would scold me for being a dirty slut. The definition of a slut for me back then was a girl who liked sex (either with boys or alone). It was weird, but I would often make myself cum to fantasies of my father yelling at me. In my mind, I was always naked as he did this, and his language was very graphic. “I come home after a hard day at work and find my daughter playing with her pussy and acting like a slut!” Or, “This is how you spend your day? Walking around naked in front of your brother showing off your ass and tits? I bet if I didn’t interrupt you’d be in here spreading your legs and letting him see your twat!” (Only later would he begin liberally using the word “cunt” with me.)

This either confirms that I was wired to get turned on my dirty talk from the beginning, or that my fetish for hearing dirty talk springs from these types of fantasies. Anyway, it wasn’t long before the fantasy evolved to Dad catching me and yelling, to him catching me and joining in. He would pull out his cock, say something like, “If you like being a slut, then you’ll like this.” Then he’d stroke his cock, making it hard while I watched, and he’d make me go on playing with myself while he watched and stroked himself. Funny thing is, it actually took me a while to add in the cum. I thought guys had orgasms like girls did – where nothing comes out. I thought they could control their sperm like they do with their pee. Orgasm and cumming were two separate biological functions in my dumb little head for a time.

Bringing Dad into the sexual mix brought on a new round of guilt and shame. About once a month I’d vow never to masturbate again. I was a disgusting slut and had to stop being a degenerate pervert. Why was I the only one in my whole school like that? No one else ever said anything about masturbating, except when a boy would occasionally call someone a “jerk off.” I was a not only a freak for touching myself all the time, but I was a super freak for thinking about my family that way!

The guilt and shame, however, weren’t enough to overpower my filthy urges. I could manage to go 3 or 4 days without touching myself, but then I’d give in. I know girls are supposed to be able to resist temptation easier than boys, but not this girl. I’d be up late into the night thinking naughty thoughts, trying not to, and convince myself that if I just press against my pussy I could make that insistent ache go away. Of course, the pressing just made it worse. But if I just rubbed it a few times, and stopped thinking about penises, then it would okay and I could fall asleep. Next thing I knew I was kicking off my bed sheets, pulling down my PJs and panties, spreading my legs wide, and ravaging my little pussy to thoughts of hard cocks coming at me from all over the place.

At this stage I wasn’t fantasizing about fucking. That was for if you wanted to make a baby. My fantasies then revolved around masturbating. It was the only sexual experience I had, so that’s what dominated my fantasies. It was mostly guys jacking off and me diddling myself (and some occasional kissing if the situation warranted). When I was feeling especially horny, it would go so far as me touching the penis in question, and stroking it off to a dry orgasm.

This, I suspect, is the main source of my masturbation fetish. I spent so much of my early sexual life focused almost exclusively on masturbation – both my own and that of others – that masturbation has become the foundation of sex for me…and a never-ending source of fantastic pleasure. Masturbation orgasms still feel like a kind of magic to me – no matter how many times I do it!

Obviously, the next player to appear was my mother. She was a pretty woman, with a good figure (for a mom), and fairly big boobs. She was not, by my way of thinking, sexy. She didn’t wear tight clothes, never showed any cleavage, no short skirts, and never spoke in any kind of a provocative way. She was affectionate with my father, but not so much in a physical way (at least not around the kids). My mom came across to me as very anti-sex. The Talk she gave me was mainly about all the bad things that could happen when you had sex. And letting people see you nude was a huge no-no (bordering on a mortal sin).

I guess this is where my fantasies of nudity came from. The strict ban on nakedness in my house was similar to the negative portrayal of sex, and so I conflated the two. Nudity became inherently sexual to me, and thus very arousing. Maybe that’s why I’m addicted to looking at naked people on my computer whenever I get the chance!

It took some time, but Mom did work her way into my sexual fantasies. Much like Dad, she began as an angry foil, catching me in the act and lecturing. It wasn’t as big of a turn on for some reason as Dad catching me and pulling out his cock. She soon ended up taking a softer role – that of the understanding teacher. As I’ve mentioned before, one of my major fantasies of that era revolved around my mom teaching my brother about sex. She would call me into the room where they were having a lesson and she would instruct my brother how to please a woman while he used me to practice on. Mom would tell him to undress me, kiss my nipples, touch my pussy, and gently rub his cock on me to get it hard. She would give him explicit instructions about putting his cock in my mouth and fingering my pussy. I carried on developing this fantasy well into my college years. By then it ended with my mom telling my brother to fuck me. While she urged him on with encouragements, she would become so turned on that my mom would strip and masturbate while she watched us fucking.

My other primary scenario during this time was being caught spying on my parents having sex. Instead of being mad, Mom would invite me into their bedroom to watch. She and Dad would strip off my clothes so I’d be naked like they were. She’d then invite me to get a close look at Dad’s cock and her pussy. I was more interested in cock at that period, but the idea of my mom acting like a slut and opening her legs in front of me was a big turn on. They would then proceed to have sex. It was usually Mom who would tell me it was okay if I wanted to play with myself while I watched. Dad would often compliment my tits and pussy – looking at me with a leering smile while he fucked Mom. They’d tell me to get a close look, and I would get in there with my face only a few inches from where Dad’s big cock was plunging into Mom’s wet cunt hole. I got off so hard on that image! Not just the raw sex aspect of it, but about me being there and being a part of it. Of seeing the adult mystery of sex playing out right in my face.

As far as wanting to see my Mom and Dad fuck, it was a simple matter of them being the only two people close to me that I knew (or at least believed) were having sex. I always felt weird when other people would act all grossed out at the thought of their parents “doing it.” I was very intrigued by the thought, and so there must have been something wrong with me – right? I started off with a very “clinical” understanding of what sex was and how it all went down. When I got the facts of life, I assumed sex was just for making babies. And since you both had to be naked (ew – naked in front of a boy) then I imagined sex took place in the bathroom. That’s the place in the house where you usually get naked to take a bath or shower, so naturally that’s where you’d get naked to make a baby. I also pictured it as a standing up procedure.

It wasn’t until later that my concept of what sex had matured enough over time to where I figured out it was a bedroom activity and could be done just for fun. Having my first real orgasms went a long way toward understanding what the fun part could be. As I mentioned, before that I thought it was all about the kissing. Once my ideas about sex became more sophisticated, I was both very interested in being a part of it but afraid to be the one doing the sex. I think this is why I resorted to more voyeuristic fantasies. I was very often playing the role of voyeur – picturing myself watching and playing with myself as I actually played with myself. This kind of reality/fantasy parallel really seemed to work for me then (and to a great degree, now).

The unfortunate part is that although I fantasized about spying on my parents having sex, I never had the guts to try this for real. I suspect at the very least I could have listened at their door and overheard them getting frisky. I was too afraid of getting caught (by them, or by my brother), and I couldn’t stand the levels of humiliation this would bring about. I wish I’d been braver, and was able to realize that a little humiliation was worth the risk. I often wonder if I had simply asked my brother back then, that he would have jerked off for me while I watched. If I’d thought of that back then, I’d probably be too scared that he’d ask to see me naked.

So, returning to my parents. To me, back then, it was all about the woman “letting” the man put his dick in her pussy. That element of it felt really dirty to me – like the woman was giving in to something she shouldn’t do. The idea that my proper, uptight mom would do something so nasty was a big turn on for me. Again, when I didn’t understand sex, I thought sex involved the man putting the penis into the woman’s vagina, then releasing his sperm (like the way he would pee), then it was done. When I learned that there was in-and-out humping involved to make the sperm come out, this really upped the excitement.

I got more involved with my parents sexually in my fantasy as I got older and became more knowledgeable. At first it was spreading my pussy open to help get Dad hard. Then it was sitting on my father’s face (at my mother’s insistence). Mom would also offer to let me play with and suck my father’s cock. Back then I didn’t do any lesbian stuff in my fantasy, but (like in my brother/mom fantasies) I did often think about seeing her masturbate as she watched me play with Daddy’s dick. It probably wasn’t until late in college that I started imagining mom eating me out (while Dad watched and jacked off). Ultimately, this fantasy climaxed with Dad fucking me. And, somewhere along the way, my brother would get caught spying on the three of us. Mom would invite him to join in. From there, several variations came about. My brother would fuck Mom while me and Dad fucked next to them. Mom would tell Dad to fuck me from behind while I sucked off my brother. Or, she’d fuck and suck them both while I watched and finger fucked myself. Then, of course, my brother would fuck me as they fucked next to us. Yeah, most combinations were explored as I let my imagination run free. I eventually became secure enough in my taboo perversity to imagine Mom and I doing a messy 69, and also watching my Dad and brother sucking each other off. The gay stuff did put me off, but for some reason I couldn’t help thinking about it. I suppose it was about the dirtiest, most transgressive, thing I could imagine at the time, so there was a certain nasty appeal to it.

My fantasies back then never involved any butt stuff, although they sure as do now. It’s still true that when I entertain these masturbation fantasies today, in my mind they still take place back in the day – when I was an innocent teen, my parents were young and vibrant, and my brother a hormonal fuck beast. I do have a few contemporary fantasies about my brother as we are now. The most recent being us doing a Skype call, with me being here overseas, and somehow our conversation becomes flirty to the point where I confess my teen crush on him. One thing leads to another and we’re soon naked and masturbating for each other – both trying to be quiet because our spouses are home and could walk in any second! Again, the whole getting caught element – I guess my kinks will never change…

Well, those are some of my sexual origin stories. When I lay it all out in writing it becomes very clear where most of my sexual proclivities came from. Mysteries solved. I often say that writing porn has been a form of therapy for me – and here’s further proof of it. Unveiling the roots of my perversions goes a long way to helping me understand who I am and why I think the deviant things I do. Instead of adding to the guilt and shame, it goes a long way toward alleviating it. More so, it gives me permission to forgive myself and accept my dirty little thoughts as natural, and even to a certain extent as normal. Instead of judging my nasty thoughts based on an outside set of standards, I can simply take them as they are and enjoy the intense pleasure they bring to me in the privacy of my own mind…oh, and here in the open with you at my debaucherous blog.

Maybe you can give it a try! You might surprise yourself with what you discover…

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4 thoughts on “Evolution of a Perverted Woman

  1. I share with you all these fantasies and feelings, i know how you feel. I wish i had your talent in writing
    Your fantasies are good as they are. And I absolutely love the way you use them as therapy. Pls feel free to continue as you wish. You’re one of the most talented writer on the scene.
    From Italy with love.

  2. Damn Woman. You possess such a eroticly dirty and gawd just so beautiful of a mind and the terrific ability to put into words what fills that amazing mind. I absolutely love it. You’re such an unbelievable turn on for me.
    George

  3. Thank you so much for sharing this Rachael, it is so helpful to hear you talk about this so openly. I am a bit younger and have always felt ashamed of the deisres and thougths, images that come into my head as I am…well trying to cum. To hear you detail this all and in a such non-judgemental way, makes me feel so much better about myself, and my sexuality.
    Thank you so much!!
    Jess xxx

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