Lonely

Have a cum? Meh….maybe.  More wandering, a brief flirtation with a little stock market trading, which I fucked up beyond all recognition. Hey Ho. Maybe I should have a cum? 

I know…let’s sort out those boxes in the store room…..

……and there they were! USB sticks. Eight of them! I’d forgotten all about them! As an exploratory teenager, I quickly learned the power dirty talk has on me and I had recorded several masturbatory scenarios on USB sticks. One was a g/g seduction thing, where I was seducing an innocent girl into her first lesbian experience. Another, via a voice changer app, was a ‘man’ forcing me, Yet another with slight changes to my normal voice, was a woman catching me in the act of playing with myself and step by step ordering me to continue while verbally abusing me at the same time. One was marked ‘dirty talk’, and intriguingly, one was marked ‘Alison’. I don’t remember ever recording us, but maybe I did? Who knows/?  The remainder had the writing on them worn off. 

I held them in my hand and thought back to when I was, oh, what…14 onwards? Maybe 15…something like that. I wondered if usb sticks remained ‘live’ after so long in storage? Miss brain had a rummage in my dirty memory trunk and dredged up a few images of memory. They made me blush! Good God, I was a dirty little slut in my teenage years! I was foul-mouthed too! 

Aaaannnnnddddd STING! Miss Brain’s sense of reality zapped me right between the legs, by informing me that if I could hear mum and dad fucking, then they could certainly hear me, especially when I was being loud. Why didn’t I realise that at the time! Somehow, I’d convinced myself that sound only travelled one way! Mum never said a word, but looking back, there were some knowing smiles now and then. I felt my cheeks burning at the memory….and since humiliation is a massive turn on for me, I also felt the familiar beginnings of wet panties. 

Well, of course I had to find out. Stick one, one of the blank ones, had two audio files on it but both were unplayable. As was the second unmarked one….just scratches of my voice, and even then nothing very interesting. The third unmarked one had no files on it at all, oh, but the fourth…..wow…..a video file no-less! I hovered my mouse pointer over it and muttering “please please please” to myself gave it a double click. 

And there I was. I’d obviously set the camera to catch the door and bed, and here I was, Stephanie Spielberg, making a home movie. The scene showed me walking into my bedroom in my school uniform, and dumping my bag on the chair. I smiled to myself remembering vaguely bits about making this ‘porn’ video. I had forced myself not, under any circumstances, to look at the camera. (Very professional).

I walked in, bag down, and I flopped onto the bed, back against the ornate (and very useful for being tied up) headboard, and knees and feet in that gawky, adolescent way. Knees together, feet up by bum but apart, showing a neat little V of panty crotch. An attempt at texting, then reading something on my phone. (Phones were 100% banned in school, therefore we all had them of course) As I pretended to read, my right hand idly stroked my boob, then, button by button undid my shirt, then pulled it open before leaning up and shedding it altogether. I looked down at my tiny titties, and cupped them. Oops…almost looked at the camera……

Then shuffle down the bed, still looking at the phone. A pause to unwrap that fuck-awful kilt. This left me lying on a tartan ‘blanket’, and my panties fully exposed. A few minutes stroking over my undies and a hand dipped inside. 

By now, Miss Brain had dug out the full memory of making that video. My little panty-flashing group had all dared one another to ‘make a porn film’. We never showed one another our home movies, and I suspect not all of us completed the task, but I know (obviously) I did, Jenny Lawrence did for sure, as did Alice Evans. The others I’m not sure of. 

Well, no…it wasn’t a schoolgirl fuck-fest of rogering myself with everything from hairbrush handles to cucumbers. Just gentle, clitoral masturbation. But you could clearly see the moment I came….and hear it too. There was even an emergent squirt which I remembered, because the next day, my kilt smelled of sex. 

After watching this, I felt a glow of pride at how daring I’d been at so young-an age. I really did embrace my sexuality. 

By now, I felt soaked between my legs and my clit was tingling. The psychologists would probably have something to say about this, but as I watched the girl on the large screen of my lounge TV I desperately wanted to eat her out….even though it was me! 

But a cum beckoned. Maybe another file? I was certainly feeling raunchy now. Let’s listen to the ‘forced’ audio file. I remembered making it using an early voice changer. I’d written something of a script to allow time for me to respond to my ‘attacker’. I even remembered the scenario. (You’ve been accosted in the woods. (Ha! They’re my woods now.) He drags you deep into the trees and into a clearing. You are 18 years old. (Even though I wrote this at 15, I was always putting myself as older in stories I wrote at school. Hmm..another one for the psychologists.) 

“Fucking shut up” The enhanced voice sounded a little artificial, but not too bad. Nothing like the reality I could achieve now though) 

(Me, live) “Please….don’t..

“Shut up! And take your top off.” 

“But I’m….”

“If you don’t take it off, I’ll rip it off.”

‘Ok,ok……..there.”

‘And the bra………jeez….call those tits?”

‘They stopped growing when I was 13.’

“Get your fucking skirt and panties off.”

“Please don’t…I…I’m a virgin.”

“Yeah? You fucking won’t be after this. Lie down…and spread your legs.”

By now, I was fully invested in the fantasy. The rest of the recording was things like “You’re so fucking tight……there….i’m up your cunt now…..ohhh….you’re getting wetter….your fucking enjoying this……I think you’re going to cum….its ok…you’re allowed to cum on my cock….you might as well, because I’m about to cum up you…….i’mm cummmiiingg…..uppp your…..cuuuuuunt.” 

I lay on my lounge floor breathless from the shattering orgasm that had torn through me, and ruefully regarded the long wet streak on the carpet that I’d have to clean up myself. Thinking about it, my orgasms have never been proportional to my size or sexual experience, they’ve always been shattering experiences, and I wouldn’t have them any other way. 

As I cleaned up, I went into the confessional of my mind. “Bless me, for I have sinned.” Well, not sinned…definitely not that, but I certainly didn’t think of mum or dad when I lay on my duvet frigging myself senseless. I think when I got to maybe 17, I began to close the heavy oak door to my closet. Maybe something had warned me that maybe they could hear me…and my potty-mouth. Thank God their home….and my home….are built with quality materials. Heavy oak doors throughout. Thick walls made of brick, not drywall. But the inescapable truth…if I could hear them through the closet vent, they they could hear me. 

Ok, now the real confession. As I cleaned the carpet, Miss Brain had a naughty little play. She sat back in the chair and innocently said “What if……what if your dad knew you jilled off practically every day when you got home from school? What if he made sure he was in their bedroom so he could listen? (Pause before she said what I knew was coming) What if he jacked off listening to you…..and what if he did it with your panties?” You absolute fucker! I’d just got myself and the carpet cleaned, and now I was flooding my panties again! 

I doubt, in the real world that he did any such thing, but ooohhh dear…..the thought that I might have had that much power! I think girls all learn the power their bodies have to attract. Why else do you think we wear as little as possible? Why else does a ‘little black dress’ just create the desire to fuck the living daylights out of its wearer. Our sex may be hidden, tucked away between our legs, but hhhooollly fuck…we know it’s there…and so do you!

The other day, I spoke to a close friend who is staunchly anti-lesbian. While that may seem strange that she is a close friend, she is honest as the day is long and would fight to the death to defend her friends. She said “ I do see the attraction, you know. I can completely understand how, if one girl became aroused and started to masturbate, another girl, even a straight girl, might also become aroused, and I think it’s because sex is…well…sex. Its sights, sounds and smells are designed to be arousing in and of themselves. We, as a species are designed to ‘do’ sex as often as we can. Way back when we lived in caves, there would, I’m sure have been fuckfests. One male fucked a girl, another would see it…he’d find someone to fuck, aa girl would see two couples fucking and want someone herself. “ (Yes, I’d love to get between her legs, but it isn’t going to happen. 

As I said earlier, the possession of mobile phones was banned at school. I think this had a lot to do with stopping us videoing the evil punishments they handed out. (Up to and including caning) so, naturally, we all had mobiles. My old one was in the memories box, which meant it was there for a reason. Powered up, I found that reason. Two videos. One was me, obviously alone in the locker room, and equally obviously on a panty hunt. There was even a voiceover. “And here’s Helen’s. Oh dear…..wet day, Helen? God these smell amazing.” And so on. I had toured the room before settling on a pair to use. Then I’d tried to film with one hand and wank using another girls panties with the other…very unsuccessfully, I might add. In the end, I’d settled for holding the crotch of Helen’s panties against my sex with my right hand and ‘polished the bean’ through them while holding the phone with the other. Messy and jerky, but at least I came. 

The other shorter video was much noisier, and featured me holing my phone surreptitiously in the pocket of my jacket, while attempting to video the girls as they came out of the showers. Obviously done the same day, I’d tried to concentrate on Helen. She also had a habit of taking a long time to wash between her legs. (Among ourselves we would say that more than three rubs is a wank.) 

Have you ever been in that position of not being able to settle on what you want to think about when you masturbate? I was torn between the sordid yet delicious fantasy of my dad wanking along with me, and the memory of Helen. Not  having another cum was unthinkable….just, well, what will I think about. 

In the end, Miss Brain solved the problem neatly, by placing my dad in their bedroom, but with a pair of Helen’s panties. A quick fantasy of Helen staying with me for a few days, and him stealing her undies. He stood there, naked, listening to the utter filth erupting from my mouth while smelling my friends sex on her panties…a scent I knew personally. As, in my mind, he came, so did I. 

Hey…another thought. Do any other girls find what I find….that cumming in your panties is, in some ways, sexier than cumming naked? I must admit I adore cumming in my undies. I think I’ve said before that there’s one thing sexier than being naked, and that’s being almost naked. There’s also something about flying in the face of those years of pre-pubertal and pubertal-adolescent training of always being clean ‘down there’. 

so, girls….how say you?