Finger Licking Good

In an effort to break away from the masturbation theme, I thought I’d move up to the next level this week and recall the first time someone else touched me “down there.”

The first time I got fingered was by my first “real” boyfriend in high school. I’d had a couple one-sided “boyfriends” (guys I liked, but who didn’t know it) and I went steady with a few others, but it was just kid stuff that lasted only a few days, or, at most, a week. Although my first kiss was with one of them, that’s as far as it went.

My first real boyfriend, Josh, started by touching my butt (over my jeans). I didn’t say he could do it, but, when he did, it was so exciting that I made only the mildest of protests. After that, whenever we would make out, his hands would be all over my ass, grabbing and groping. At the same time, he’d press his hard-on against me. This was beyond sexy to me back then – a real penis, right there, digging into my thigh, or tummy, or crotch. Much to my joy, he came in his pants a few times while we made out and dry humped. I felt like this was a huge accomplishment on my part, even though all I did was be there as something for him to rub against.

We would sneak out to the woods behind our school after classes (each telling our parents we were doing some kind of legit after-school club or sport). That’s where it was, as we were rolling around in the leaves, that Josh undid my button and unzipped my jeans. After that he groped my butt, rubbed his bulge against me, and tongue kissed me like crazy. Meanwhile, I was dying for more. I was unzipped! What next!? Maybe he was waiting for me to unzip him. I was clueless back then, but that would probably have been the right move.

Eventually his hand came back around to my front. A little titty action – under my shirt, over my bra. Then his hand moved down to my belly. I remember my clit literally throbbing – just like all those sappy romances said it would. His hand made it down to my panties. He ran his fingers over my underwear, driving me crazy. I don’t think he was consciously doing it as foreplay – he was going slow, feeling out if it was okay to touch me “there.” He took my silence as consent – I should have said something…”Finger blast me!”…but I was too embarrassed to admit how much I wanted him to touch my pussy.

It took a little time, but he began toying with the waistband of my panties. They were my white pair with little duckies on them. I couldn’t manage to speak, but I moaned to let him know I was liking where he was going. This apparently did the trick and his hand ventured down. He paused at my pubic hair, combing through it and sort of pinching my mound between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t feel bad, but it also wasn’t what I was hoping for. I remember arching myself up in an effort to get him to go lower.

He soon got the hint, and just like that there were fingers moving toward my vagina – fingers that weren’t my own! He found my wetness with his middle finger and zeroed in on that spot. It was glorious. His finger circled my hole. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or if he was just trying to figure out where everything was. He wiggled the tip of his finger in.

Josh must have noticed a change in me…I think I may have stopped actively kissing him in anticipation of what was about to happen. He pulled away and looked down at me. His eyes were so big and beautiful. It was as if he was asking me if what he was doing was okay. I nodded yes to his silent question. We looked into each other’s eyes as he slowly pressed his finger deeper. Yes, I know it sounds a bit corny, but we were teenagers in love forever and ever!

I think I was saying “Yes…yes…yes…” as he digitally penetrated me. It was as far as I’d ever gone and it was a big deal to me. A boy literally had his finger in my pussy. I think I may have hyperventilated a little – either that or the dizziness was from pure horniness. He pulled back before going too far, swirled his finger around, and went back in nice and slow. It was wonderful. I was so fucking happy in that moment. I knew it wasn’t the same as losing my virginity, but for me it was about as close as you could get.

We resumed kissing as he continued to play with me. My clit was aching to be touched, but I don’t think he knew anything about the mysteries of the clitoris yet. I wanted to take his cock out of his pants and return the favor (just using my hand), but I was afraid that if his cock was naked, and my pussy was naked, that things would go too far. I wasn’t ready to go there. God, I was such a scaredy-cat! I grabbed and groped his hard-on through his pants hoping that would keep him happy.

I’m pretty sure this was one of the times he came in his pants, but I can’t say for sure. I just remember our frenzied make out session eventually calming down, his hand resting on my pussy, my hand gripping his bulge. Time was up and we had to hurry to get back in time for the late busses. He pulled his hand out, held it up, looked at his fingers, and sniffed them. I grabbed his hand and pulled it away, telling him that was disgusting. Sure, I did that myself after I’d played with my own pussy, but I was afraid my smell would be weird to him. We buttoned me up, and I pulled my shirt down into place. That’s when I caught him putting his fingers in his mouth. I fought to pull his hand away again, unwilling to admit I was turned on that he wanted to taste me like that.

It was the longest bus ride home that day. I was squirming in my seat the entire time. I was sure the other kids on the bus, at least the other girls, could tell how horny I was. I ran straight to my room, pulled my pants and panties down to my knees and attacked my pussy. I rubbed my clit like mad standing just inside my bedroom door. I came in a matter of seconds, dropping to my knees and rubbing for as long as I could stand it. After the tremors had passed, I got completely naked, lay on my bed, spread my legs wide and slowly began touching myself. I realized I hadn’t locked my door, but it felt too good to stop and get up.

I reimagined the whole make out session. The feeling when he pulled down my zipper. How his probing fingers moved over top of my panties. The exquisite sensation of his fingers toying with the waistband. The tickle across my pussy hair. Then his fingers on my cunt (Yes, I had already picked up that word from Dad’s porn stash). His fingertip, dry at first, then wet with my juices. Sliding, slippery, unsure where to go or what to do. Then rolling around my opening, searching, exploring, discovering. I tried to recreate the feeling with my own fingers, but it wasn’t the same…it was good, but not the same.

I finger fucked myself for a bit, then went back to my clit – the way I wished he had. I was bouncing up off my bed and doing everything I could not to scream out loud with happiness as I came. I lay there panting, naked, legs open, fingers caressing my virgin pussy…one step closer to becoming a woman…

Whew – okay, now I’m all worked up after that little trip down memory lane! You know what that means…

And, just so you all know, I did eventually give Josh some hand action and a few lame attempts at oral (made him come with my hand, but was unable to succeed with my mouth). We never really went further than getting naked together and fumbling around with each other’s junk. I shouldn’t admit this in our “me too” era, but I did, at times, wish he would “force” himself on me and just shove his cock in my pussy, but I was still afraid of “going all the way” for some stupid reason (I blame my mom). Sadly for me, he was too much of a gentleman to take me like that (or he was just as scared as I was).

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So, how was it for you? Do you remember the first time you fingered a girl (or were fingered)? The first time a girl touched your cock. The first time you touched a cock? Any regrets from back then?

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Learning with Sis

A real experience shared by Andy:

I am 57 years old. The story I’m going to tell you happened in the early 1970s.

I come from a large family: 5 older sisters and  3 older and one younger brother.

This true story concerns me and the youngest of my sisters. I was 14, quite tall and athletic for my age. My sister was 17, slim, natural blonde hair, absolutely gorgeous in my eyes and wore the latest fashions, which at that time meant mini-skirts!

My sister and I were both in the house one day, alone. We were both reading, and the way our house was set out at that time there were two chairs opposite each other, either side of the open fire place.

As I was reading my book, I looked over the top of it and a flash of red caught my eye. I looked down and I could see up my sister’s skirt, her red knickers were on show. Hormones exploding!

I continued to stare and then I realised my sister was looking at me. I looked down at the pages of my book again waiting on my sister erupting!

It didn’t happen. After a couple of minutes I sneaked a look upwards again. Sis had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed and her chin was resting on her collarbone. My eyes ventured down again…

Those red knickers were still on show, and I was sure I could see even more!

I continued to look, glancing up at her face every few seconds to make sure she didn’t awaken.
Then, she started to slide down the seat, and as she did so her skirt went further up her thighs exposing more and more of her knickers! I could now see a line of her crease going up the centre of them as the bulge from her fanny become more and more visible. After a few minutes she was sitting/lying on the seat with her thighs totally exposed and her legs slightly parted.

I got off my seat and knelt on the floor in front of her. I gingerly moved my hand near her. My finger gently brushed her mound. No movement from sis. I then started to rub my finger up and down her slit, through her knickers. Still no movement. I noticed a darker patch on her knickers. I don’t know why, but I then leaned in and kissed her fanny through her knickers. I thought I heard her gasp and looked up at her but she hadn’t moved. I then pulled her knickers to the side and slipped my finger in against her silky blonde bush. I was struck as to how warm she was. And the tip of my finger then touched her bare fanny—

Just at this point the doorbell rang!

I shot up off the floor. My sister jumped up and hurried from the room. The doorbell sounded again and I went to answer it. It was the bloody postman with a parcel! I took delivery of it and returned to the living room. Sis had gone to her room.

After what seemed a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, my sister returned. She asked who was at the door and then sat down opposite me again. Both of us went back to reading books.

After a few minutes I looked up. Sis was asleep, again. Then she slowly started to slide down the seat like before. My eyes were glued to the space between her gorgeous thighs. My eyes must have shot out of my head – no flash of red knickers. My sister was naked beneath her skirt, she had removed them!

At this, all pretence from me went out the window. I was on the floor between her thighs in a shot, lifting her skirt up to her waist to marvel in her glorious blonde bush. I buried my head between her thighs and started to kiss her. The wonderful odour was overwhelming. I was in heaven.

I felt her hands on my head. I looked up and saw my sister smiling down at me.

‘Lick me’ she said. I did as I was told. She moaned slightly, nodded her head and said, ‘Yes, that’s it!’

Over the next five minutes or so my sister positioned my head to where she wanted to be licked. Then her thighs tightened and she gripped my head between them. A sound came from her that I’d never heard before and I felt liquid squirt into my mouth. It was like sweet nectar, and I licked it up greedily. Then suddenly she was pushing me away saying, ‘NO, no, no, that’s enough!’

I have never seen a more serene look in my life as the sight of her lying there smiling. ‘Don’t you dare tell anyone’ she said.

‘I won’t,’ I promised.

In our crowded house, being alone together proved difficult. We both kept looking at each other, usually smiling slightly, and on a couple of occasions Sis lifted her skirt if there was no chance of getting caught.

Our next opportunity didn’t arrive until about a week later.

Our mother had left to go to the local shops, this would normally take about 15 minutes or so. As soon as we saw her disappear round the corner, Sis grabbed my arm and took me through to her room. She lay on the bed, hitched up her skirt, pulled off her knickers, and I was soon tonguing her.

She lasted longer than the first time, but not a lot more! Her juices tasted just as sweet as she orgasmed in my mouth, which this time I had clamped over her fanny hole. Not a drop was wasted. Soon Sis was telling me to stop again as I continued to greedily lick her.

I stood up. Sis was smiling up at me, almost giggling. ‘Remember, our secret,’ she reminded me. I smiled. She then glanced down and could see that there was a distinct bulge in my trousers. ‘Come closer,’ said Sis and I took a step towards her. She undid my belt, pulled down my zip and lowered my trousers. Then my underpants were pulled down a bit. My young cock was probably only about 4 inches long, but it had never been bigger or harder. Sis took it between her fingers and slowly pulled the foreskin up and down. In about 10 seconds I shot my load. A feeling which made my knees buckle and Sis got her hand covered in my gooey spunk.

She stopped and smiled up at me. ‘Was that a lot?’ she asked.

I nodded and said, ‘Yes, a lot more than when I do it myself.’

‘Good,’ replied Sis. She then put her knickers back on and went to the bathroom to clean up.

Over the next few months we had a few sessions, probably about once every fortnight. We were not taking risks. Much the same happened each time. I was getting more and more expert at what I was doing. I would make Sis cum and I even got to the stage where I could hold her orgasm back before letting it squirt powerfully into my mouth. Her clit (I didn’t really have a name for it at that time) would get hard and I could suck it a little bit. That drove her wild!

My stamina improved from that first time, too. It would take Sis longer to make me cum, and on occasions she would undress fully, showing me her absolutely wonderful body (smallish boobs but nipples that stood out).
The next truly memorable time was when after I had licked, sucked, and tongued her to another orgasm she took my cock in her hand as usual and she was wanking me slowly. The head of my cock always got very wet (I know it now as pre-cum, but at the time is was just “wet and sticky!”). Sis’s technique got even better and she knew how to get me hard and breathing heavy.

She looked up at me and said ‘If you get close to shooting tell me. Okay?’ I didn’t know what this was referring to but I dumbly nodded my head. She then bent her head down and put the very tip of my cock between her lips. I was trying not to breathe (Please make this last) as Sis gently sucked on the swollen head of my cock.

‘Sis!’ I cried, when I couldn’t hold back. She took her head away from my cock and started to quickly wank me. My cock was pointing straight at her face and my eruption shocked us both. The first load hit Sis on the cheek, just to the right of her mouth. She then pointed it downwards and string after string of spunk hit her boobs and her belly.

‘WOW!‘giggled sis, ‘That was great!’ She then did something that remains in my memory to this day. She took her finger and wiped some spunk off her boobs. She looked up at me and then, smiling, put her finger to her mouth. She licked it. A broad smile appeared and she said ‘It tastes nice!’ She then proceeded to scoop up the remaining spunk and swallow it. Watching this, my cock hardened again and she took it back into her mouth and sucked harder this time. ’All clean’ said Sis as she stood up to get dressed. ‘We better hurry up and get dressed,’ she said ‘but we’ll be doing that again soon!’

The next time, only a few days later, we knew we had plenty of time. Sis told me to strip completely. She did the same. ‘Right,’ says sis. ‘Lie down.’ I did so. She then straddled my head. Her naked fanny directly above me. She lowered herself down. I craned my neck to try to reach her and was soon slurping on her juices. I felt her take my cock in her hand and slowly wank me. This was glorious
This was our first 69. And I immediately loved this position. Access was easier, my tongue could get deeper, her clit seemed to be more sensitive and…I slipped a finger inside Sis while sucking on her clit. She went wild. Grinding herself against my face she covered me in girl cum. And…she didn’t want me to stop this time.

I felt her lips around my cock and it wasn’t just the head. Sis was giving me one hell of a blow job as she fucked my face and fingers. I almost screamed her name as my orgasm neared. I felt her suck harder and deeper. I did scream her name this time as I got to the point of no return. I came buckets. String after string of spunk shot out of me into my sister’s mouth. Sis came again drenching me once more. Sis collapsed on top of me. Both of us were absolutely shattered. Sis turned round and came to lie beside me. I put my arm around her. Both of us naked. The sweetest thing ever. Every time I orgasmed after that Sis took it in her mouth and swallowed.

Our incestuous relationship stayed like this for about three years. We never even contemplated intercourse. For some reason it was a barrier that we both shied away from and never spoke about. We were perfectly happy in what we were doing. My Sis taught me how to give a girl pleasure using my mouth. My sister used me as her blow job teacher. It was mutual pleasure. Sis then got boyfriends (she was still a virgin), and I started to look to other girls.

One ‘incident’ I’d like to share concerned my sister’s best friend Frances. Frannie, as she was known to our family, was in and out of our house for years (still friends with Sis now) and one day, when I was 17 (Sis and I were still involved) I asked Frannie if she wanted to go out for a drink with me. My sister smiled when Frannie agreed and our first date was arranged for the following weekend. Everything went well and when I took her home we indulged in some heavy petting (it’s good making a girl orgasm just by some light pressure of your fingertips, my sister had taught me well). Sis had stayed up waiting on my return and wanted to know all the details. She thought it was marvellous! Sis then suggested that I invite Frannie home when there was no one there but she wanted to be able to see!

I readily agreed and then made the invite to Frannie. She agreed too! There was a walk-in closet in my room, and Sis hid in there when she saw Frannie coming up our path. There was no pretence from either of us when Frannie came in. She went immediately to my room. We lay on the bed and pretty soon we were both naked. I went down on her. Within a few minutes she was coming. I then spread her thighs as she lay back on the pillows (Sis had told me her friend was not a virgin and was on the pill). Frannie was going to be my first!

I lowered myself down on her and she pushed towards me. Wow, the heat was incredible, I moved forward slowly and I slipped inside her. Frannie was good, Frannie was VERY fucking good! We fucked for ages. She came three or four times before I did and we lay back down to rest (both of us smoked). Frannie had her head on my chest and then I saw the closet door slowly open and my Sis grinning ear to ear. She then pulled her skirt up and I could see that the inside of her thighs were soaked. Frannie and I fucked again, after which I licked her to orgasm once more before getting her to give me a blow job (not a patch on Sis, but still fucking great!) When Frannie left, I licked Sis to orgasm. It was shortly after this that Sis and I stopped. I continued to see Frannie for a few months and it was always good, but not Sis!

To this day I LOVE giving oral to a woman. I’ve only had about 8 partners, all quite long term. I’ve never had a one-night stand, I was married for 28 years and never cheated. My only secret is what I’ve told you. Very happy memories. All of my partners have enjoyed my oral skills. None of them knew that my sister taught me.

Sis and I still live relatively close (about 15 miles), both married with kids. Our childhood exploits have done no one any harm.

Just after my divorce, we were at a family party and we both went out for a cigarette together. Nothing unusual in that. Perhaps we both had had a drink. We started to broach the subject of US all those years ago. Both of us said there were no regrets. I then said to Sis that I’d love to do it one more time. Sis’s eyebrow raised. ‘Me too’ she said. Just then someone else came out for a smoke and the mood was broken.

Nothing has been mentioned since.

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Porngasm

So, the topic of this post – big surprise – is going to be more about my masturbation habits. Sorry, but I guess it’s just been on my mind a lot lately.

I wrote a Tweet last week that got me thinking about an aspect of my masturbation routine. The Tweet was: “Porn makes me late for stuff all the time! But I can’t use it as an excuse… ‘Sorry I’m late, I was looking for the perfect cumshot to give myself an orgasm to and lost track of time…’” The part about me being late to stuff because I had a spare twenty minutes before I had to leave for somewhere and decided to “check out a couple sexy videos before I go,” then started playing with myself, and couldn’t stop until I came, is true. I don’t know how many times I’ve been late picking my kids up from school due to this phenomenon. This Tweet also got me thinking about how I use porn and how I get off to it. Or, more specifically, how I go about getting off to it.

It all started, as I suppose most of us did, with the thrill of self-exploration. Rubbing my pussy on stuff felt good. I’d hump my stuffed toys, my pillow, or my hand and that was all I needed. Just doing something “naughty” with my privates was enough to do it for me. Even before I figured out the whole orgasm thing, it was all about the pleasure I got from “down there.”

Eventually, I realized that these play sessions could be enhanced by dirty thoughts. These were my first, tentative attempts at fantasizing. At first it was thoughts of boys kissing me. I’d build elaborate scenarios in my mind about the hows and whys of the kiss starring whatever boy I was infatuated with at the time. It wasn’t even French kissing at that point – just lips to lips and some hugging. I’d try to time my “climax” to the climax of the fantasy – him taking me in his arms and planting one on me. I don’t know if I really understood the connection between the kiss and the feelings I was giving myself at the time, but it felt nice to me.

It took some time, but I began to associate what I was doing with sex (in my juvenile mind I referred to it as “Rub-a-dub-dub” until I learned it was called masturbating – yes, apparently other people knew about this and already had a name for it!). This is when my fantasies started to become more graphic. Again, I was pretty clueless, so at first my sex fantasies were about getting naked with a boy and not much more. As I picked up more information, my fantasies became more accurately sexual. A big leap was when I came to understand what an erection actually was. I knew the word, but didn’t really understand how it translated into the penis getting bigger and harder. Things went from just looking, to touching and thoughts of rubbing myself on a boy instead of one of my stuffed animals. It took me a while, but I eventually put it all together.

I had a few glimpses of porn in my early teens. My first being when my brother and his friend stole a Fredericks of Hollywood catalog from a neighbor’s mailbox (or maybe their trash). Not really porn, I know, but it was full of drawings of skinny ladies with big boobs in slinky lingerie and sometimes you could see their nipples. This qualified as porn to me back then. I remember being especially taken by the crotchless panties. It wasn’t so much about the panties, but the word “crotchless” seemed so dirty to me that it never failed to get me all tingly down there.

There was a boy at school who would sometimes have pages ripped out of Playboy or Penthouse. He was quite proud of his collection of tightly folded naked ladies. I could never ask him if I could see, but would always peek over someone’s shoulder when he was showing them. This is when I actually learned the word “pornography.” Which, much like “crotchless,” turned me on just thinking of it. I remember seeing women posing nearly nude in my mom’s Cosmo magazine and wondering if that qualified as pornography. I usually decided that it did, and would pour through every page of her magazines thinking I was looking at porn. It got me excited to do this, but I don’t remember masturbating while looking at mom’s “porn.” I do recall thinking that my mom was being naughty for getting magazines with pornography in them, and that gave me a strangely aroused feeling.

It wasn’t until I found my father’s stash of real porno mags and erotic books that my relationship with porn truly began. By that time, I had graduated to masturbating with my fingers and giving myself real orgasms. I was fantasizing about jerking and sucking cocks. I understood that boys had orgasms and when they did that sperm came out. The goal, as far as I could put together, was for a girl to get the sperm to come out of a boy’s penis. You could accomplish this by rubbing it, sucking it, or letting him put it in your pussy (but only if you wanted a baby). I don’t remember if I was fantasizing about my brother at the time I found Dad’s stash, but it started around that time.

Anyway, when I could, I would sneak out to the old garage (a stand-alone thing in our backyard) and look at Dad’s porn. I devoured the stuff with pictures first. I’d look at the naked ladies, jealous of their sexy clothes, and high heels, and hair, and press my pussy through my pants. Even when I had on a skirt or dress, I would press myself through my panties. I was afraid to expose my pussy and touch it directly. I had this very weird idea that my parents would somehow would know if I touched myself while looking at Dad’s porn. (I was also scared when I had to go to the Doctor because I thought there was a way for him to tell I’d been playing with myself.)

So, while I was getting turned on by the porn, I wasn’t making myself come to it on the spot. Once I’d exhausted the pictures, I began reading the dirty novels and Forum magazines. I can still almost smell the musty odors they gave off. Based on the yellowed pages this collection was pretty old. I would read as much as I could as fast as I could, afraid that if I spent too much time in the garage I would get caught. Once I’d gotten my fill, I’d hurry to my bedroom, cram my hand down my panties, and go at myself while thinking about what I’d seen and read. If I was home alone, I’d also say some of the dirty words I’d read out loud to myself – which turned me on like crazy (still does).

This pattern stuck with me more or less throughout my life. I would get turned on by something, but only later would I get off on it. I would see a sexy scene in a movie, then think about it in bed as I fingered myself. I’d see a hot guy, or a couple making out at a party, or two dogs humping, and build a fantasy around it when I was in the privacy of my bedroom and could do and think whatever I wanted. It was always a kind of delayed gratification thing – which worked just fine for me. This may sound odd, but when I started having sex, I kinda did the same thing. I’d go on a date with my boyfriend and fool around, then when I got home I’d diddle myself to memories of what we’d done. Even when I had actual sex, it was almost like I was doing stuff that I could get myself off to later when I was alone. I often had the urge to masturbate immediately after messing around with my boyfriend and was a little annoyed that he was still around and I couldn’t make myself come right then to what we’d just done.

It wasn’t until I got into online porn that things changed. Hubby and I had watched the occasional, traditional porno movie from time to time, but like my other porn it was more that we’d watch it, get all worked up, then fuck afterward. The sex after watching a porn together was always more intense, but I was often reliving various scenes from the movie in my head as we did it. I never really considered masturbating to the movies when he wasn’t around. It just wasn’t how it worked for me.

I was aware of online porn before I began writing, but it wasn’t something I sought out. I don’t really know why, but I had the sense that it wasn’t “for” me. When I did begin to expand my online interests, it was with written erotica. That felt “safer” and more in line with my history of reading porn more than looking at it. I started with basic couple stuff, but quickly branched out to voyeur/exhibitionist, threesome/group, and masturbation stories. It didn’t take me long to venture into the incest category. Strangely, as I mentioned before, I was mostly drawn to mother/son stories. I don’t know why I wasn’t more pulled toward brother/sister stuff, or daddy/daughter. Maybe it was that none of these stories matched up to my own fantasies on these pairings. Or it might have been how turned on I got thinking of my mom doing stuff like that with my brother.

Whatever it was, I would usually read, touching myself lightly as I did, then when I got turned on to a certain degree I would stop reading and concentrate on masturbating full out while visualize the scenes I’d just read. It was very much like I’d done as a kid.

Then one day I went looking for celebrity sex tape clips. It was out of simple prurient curiosity, but it got me comfortable with looking at porn videos online. I learned about the tube sites and the millions of porn clips available out there. I began to find it difficult not to “take a quick peek” and see what was on offer. It wasn’t long before I was down the rabbit hole checking out things I’d never seen before…men jacking off, pee stuff, gay/bi men sucking and butt-fucking, shemales, “real” incest, fisting, and (yes) a bit of bestiality every great once in a while.

Instead of watching the clips, then stopping and masturbating, things evolved so I was actually masturbating while watching – not just teasing myself, but fucking myself with fingers or a toy, and going at my clit with a purpose. I began making myself come as I watched. I didn’t really think about this as a transition at the time, but now that I look back it was a major shift. I was no longer relying on my fantasies or memories, but getting off directly to the visual stimulation in the moment. I don’t know why it took so long, but I’d guess it had to do with the abundance and accessibility (and variety) of online porn.

It was no longer a matter of having to absorb as much as I could, squirrel it away in the dark corners of my brain, then unpack it later in private to enjoy. I was able to open a browser, quickly bring up whatever kind of nasty filth I was interested in at that moment, spread my legs, and indulge myself right then and there. It was so easy it would have been silly not to do it!

Okay, so this turned out to be more of a history than what I intended. My thought was to explore how I go about getting off to porn now, but I got sidetracked into going on and on about how I got here. Well, it looks like you’re going to have to put up with another masturbation-themed dissertation from me when I write part 2 of this self-indulgent essay.

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Before I saw one, I thought penises were smooth (like a wooden dowel). I was surprised when I discovered they were all bumpy and veiny and hairy and sometimes curved. I think this came from the sex-ed drawings of male genitals where everything was just an outline and unrealistically blank.

What strange ideas did you have about sex back when you were trying to figure it all out?

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Masturbation Schedule

Sorry about this, but yet another post about my masturbation habits.  Hopefully it’s not getting too boring for all of you.

Yeah, so things have changed a lot with the move.  I didn’t realize how much until a reader sent an email asking about when I usually pleasure myself these days.  Back home I had a few restrictions on when I could enjoy a bit of solo play time, but here the options are much more limited. 

First of all, we don’t have a car.  Getting around the city has been no big deal – awesome public transit systems here – but the problem is that I no longer have those precious few minutes alone in the car after dropping the girls off at school, or driving home from the grocery story, to diddle myself.  It’s something I would only do, maybe, once or twice a month, and I just took these little moments of self -indulgence for granted.  I do frequently get the urge to touch myself while on the subway, but that’s not usually a practical option.  Maybe I have a transportation fetish of some kind…?

During the days when the girls are in school and hubby is at work, I’m free to be as naked and as pervy as I want with myself.  These days are the best, and as much as I love my family, I also love when they’re gone and I can let it all hang out.  Though uncommon, I have spent the better part of such days doing all sorts of naughty things with myself.  It brings me back to when I was a teen and I was on my own in the house knowing no one would be home for a while.  Such a feeling of freedom walking around nude and sticking whatever catches my eye into my perpetually wet pussy.  Yes, I fucked just about every candle my mom ever bought back in those days.

When school is out, or hubby is “working” from home, things are more difficult.  I’ve found that I usually retreat to the locked-door safety of the bathroom.  Yes, the old standby.  It works well when I’m primed (i.e. horny) and can rub one out quickly.  The problem is that the toilet is not all that “romantic” and so it can take me a while to get there if I’m starting from zero.  Just as I’m building toward something, reaching the climax of my fantasy, that’s inevitably when the knock on the door comes with one of my girls letting me know she wants to show me something, or asking what’s taking so long, or (usually) tattling on her sister.  These interruptions are often a show stopper.

This problem is usually avoided if I masturbate while I’m showering (alone).  The shower gives me a built-in excuse for what’s taking so long.  The issue is that it’s not always the most comfortable way to get myself off.  The shower head can be effective, but it’s more the standing position that bothers me (remember, no tubs here).  I’m always paranoid that I’m going to slip and whack my head, then my family will find me unconscious and naked with half my hand crammed up my pussy.

I also worry about my orgasm.  If it’s too intense my knees are going to go all wobbly and I might end up falling over and hurting myself.  Maybe silly, I know, but these are the thoughts that keep me from really letting loose in the shower.  On the plus side, it makes it super easy to slip a soapy finger in my asshole while I’m playing with my pussy – no need to worry about finding the lube or cleaning up afterward.

Of course, I’m able to masturbate with hubby just about whenever I want.  Not the same as going at it solo, but still a different kind of fun – not better or worse, just different.  We’ve been doing the mutual masturbation thing a lot more lately than we did at home, and I didn’t consider why until I began thinking about this topic.  I guess I’m making up for my lessened ability to self-pleasure by resorting to shared pleasure.  We watch each other beat off at least once or twice a week now.  He loves staring between my legs as I play with myself, and I adore watching him stroke his hard cock as he gazes worhipfully at my cunt. And I love the feeling of his warm cum splattering on my bare skin (be it my tummy, tits, pussy, face, or ass).

Otherwise, I will sneak in a quickie whenever the chance presents itself.  Hubby took the girls to the playground across the street the other day and as soon as they were out the door I found myself humping the arm of the sofa.  I was all charged up after doing some writing earlier that day, and was dying for an orgasm.  It took me less than a minute to get myself off and it felt amazing, though I was slightly disappointed that I came so fast.

The other disappointment is not having access to my toy collection.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I was afraid to pack all my vibrating “marital aids” and bring them through customs.  I assumed it would be easier than it is to buy new ones here.  Yes, I have been getting by with substitutes, but it’s not the same.  I guess there’s something about using a purpose made fuck toy as opposed to an improvised orgasmic device (I.O.D. in military parlance) that makes the experience more of a turn on.  The local cock cucumbers and ass carrots are workable options, but not as sexy as my life-like rubber cock, double-dildo, or assortment of anatomically designed butt plugs.

I suppose at the end of the day I don’t have anything to bitch about.  I’m still able to get myself off at least once or twice a day (if not more).  It might not be as easy as it was back home, but maybe the challenge only makes it more of a thrill when I do manage to get away with it.  I do sometimes fantasize about how nice it would be to just be able to drop my pants in the middle of the living room, with my family all around doing homework or watching TV, pull my panties down, and start openly fingering myself without a care in the world.  But, at the same time, there’s something to be said about keeping masturbation a furtive, private act done in hiding infused with the fear of being caught.  Yeah…that’s how it needs to be, and it’s what makes the fantasy so much more exciting.

Do you have a set wanking schedule, or is it more of an opportunistic, jack-it-as-you-can situation?

Sex Snoop

I often snooped through my parents’ bedroom when I was in my mid-teens. I was on the hunt for anything to do with sex, and had no qualms about invading their privacy (as long as I didn’t get caught). I wanted to unravel the mysteries of this adult world of penises and pussies and discover what the grown-ups were hiding from us kids. My holy grail would have been a sex tape, but I would have gladly settled for a hidden stack of Polaroids.

Sex toys weren’t even on my radar back then. My mom had a clunky back massager, which I’d seen her using for that purpose, but only looking back did I realize it most likely doubled as a vibrator. The closest I ever got was a sheer, lacy negligee that my mom had tucked away in the back of her closet.

I tried it on one time, but it didn’t fit me anywhere and looked beyond silly. Still, it turned me on to imagine my mom wearing it and getting my dad all horny for her. There were holes in the large bra section for her nipples to poke through, and they came with a flimsy pair of crotchless panties. This was the pinnacle of kink for me back then. To this day I still get a big thrill out of peek-a-boo bras and crotchless panties. There was also an item of my dad’s that intrigued me, but not in quite the same way.

It must have been some kind of gag gift because I can’t imagine either of my parents actually buying this item. It was a kind of thong thingie, sized for a man. It was pink, and the front of it had two big, floppy elephant ears, googly eyes, and an elephant truck that was designed for a cock to be slipped into it. It was totally silly, but that didn’t stop me from wondering if my dad ever put it on for fun and made the elephant’s trunk stand straight up. It may have been ridiculous, but that didn’t stop me from getting wet thinking about my parents joking around with their genitals behind closed doors.

Ironically, my biggest find wasn’t in my parents’ bedroom, but (as I’ve talked about before) in my father’s workshop. Finding Dad’s small hidden stash of porn magazines and books was a major discovery, and one I often took advantage of (leading to dozens and dozens of furtive masturbation sessions crouched in the dimly lit garage breathing in the heavy odors of motor oil and gasoline as I frantically worked my little pussy in an effort to get off before anyone found me. As wonderful as that cache of goodies was, it wasn’t quite the kind of incriminating personal evidence I was seeking.

I had one other porn find that I sometimes wonder if it was my imagination. When I was somewhere around 17 (yes, I was still snooping at that age (after I’d lost my innocence), always hoping something new might appear), I found a Playgirl magazine under my mom’s side of the mattress. I had heard it mentioned, but never really believed before then that there was such a thing as porn for women. I went through the magazine one page at a time, hardly able to breathe. Almost NO naked women at all! Mostly nude, hairy men in unnatural poses. They were attempting to be manly, but they all somehow seemed kind of effeminate. The funny thing was that I wasn’t overly impressed with the cocks I saw. I mean, they were okay, but what got me excited was the idea that my mom was looking at this stuff. I picked out the guys I thought she might like the most and masturbated to them while wondering if my mom had done the same thing. The magazine was gone the next time I looked.

Strangely, I never really snooped in my brother’s room – at least not for sex stuff. I guess, in my head, he was a kid like me, so what could there be to find? I’m sure if I looked I would have probably found some contraband porn mags, or even a forbidden VHS tape the boys were passing around. What I did do, when I had the house all to myself, was lie on his bed naked and masturbate like a fiend. I can vividly remember planting my feet and raising my hips high up, humping the air as I fingered myself and yelled out dirty stuff I would never dare say aloud to anyone. I would often start these solo sessions by fantasizing that my brother had walked in and caught me. I’d say out loud, “Look at my pussy! You like that? Yeah, watch me play with my pussy! You wanna see me cum, don’t you?” Wow, nothing turned me on back then like being able to just let loose and say whatever obscene thing came into my head while going wild on my cunt in a place I wasn’t supposed to be. “You want to fuck me, don’t you? You want to fuck your little sister’s hot pussy! Go ahead – give me your cock! Put your cock in me!” Oh, shit, so fucking good – even to this day!

I was often too scared to snoop at the houses where I babysat, but when I did I usually came up empty. I guess I grew up in a very sexually repressed area. I found a three-pack of Trojan condoms once, which didn’t do much for me. One lady had a string of balls in her panty drawer that I would only later realize were probably anal beads, but at the time I had no clue what they were for so I didn’t really get to enjoy the discovery in the moment. Maybe I should take up babysitting again – I bet I’d be a lot better at snooping, and I’d probably find a lot more “incriminating evidence”! (Although the advent of the nanny cam might put a crimp in things…)

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