When I was 14, mum was quite unwell, requiring an operation and some weeks in hospital. Dad didn’t have horses in his stable block back then and it was just an empty building. I liked it in there though. The smell of hay and saddle soap and the way the sun shone through the dirty windows gave the small building an air of age that it didn’t possess in real life. Sometimes, I’d go there just to imagine it was the stable block of a large country house with servants….footmen…valets….and grooms. This sometimes led to a little masturbation. My spot was the end stall….the one that is now occupied by my dad’s hunter, Billy, a horse that is described not by ‘hands’ (the height of a horse from the ground to the shoulder) but simply as ‘fucking huge’.
This particular July day, I was going to the stables, I admit, with the intention of having a wank in the tack room. The outside door was already open, but then my parents didn’t really bother with shutting it since there was nothing in that building to worry about. So I walked in. Almost immediately I knew someone was in there. I heard a grunt, then a stifled ‘fuck’. Someone using the ‘F’ word was more than enough to get us young teenagers juicy. I crept down the corridor, a wide channel big enough to turn horses around in, past the walls to the tack room. Its door was slightly open too, and there stood my dad, cock out, jerking rapidly.
My first thought was, “Here’s a man wanking!” My second was overwhelming sympathy for him. Mum was unwell….he hadn’t had sex for weeks and it would be more weeks even when she came home…maybe even months.
As I watched I was impressed with the sheer size and…and….angriness of his cock. It looked like….like something designed to cause pain. I suppose to every adolescent girl, the idea of having a cock is deeply exciting and scary at the same time. I’d heard them having sex through standing on my chair in my closet. I’d heard (although I didn’t understand it at the time) various role plays and even some swearing which I have always found intensely exciting.
And so I watched. He was clearly in a world of his own, imagining who knows what. He sped up…slowed down…sped up again. It looked to me as if he was playing it like some sort of instrument. I had an idea of how guys jacked off, but nothing prepares you for the first time you see it or, over time, the variations on a theme. Some guys use lube, some don’t. Some guys use their non-dominant hand, and some…the more experienced ones use other items to help.
So…holding my breath, I watched until with a long drawn out moan, he shot his load onto the tack room floor. Pulse after pulse. There it was. Semen. The stuff that made half of me and Alison. I wondered what it felt like for him? He certainly had that agony look I got when I orgasmed.
However, I crept away as silently as I arrived there….just as well, because I needed to resume something approaching normal respiration. It was only then that I realised how wet my panties were.
In the privacy of my bathroom, I peeled them down and looked at the ruined crotch. Of course I needed to rub one out, so I sat on the lavatory and set to work, knees splayed wide, and going for it. I was thinking of what I’d just seen, of course, but not associating it with my dad….at that stage, although later, Miss Brain got hold of the whole thing and had me imagining helping him out, and even going so far as to have me imagining he was thinking about me as he jacked off. But that time, well, it was a straight forward wank based on me seeing something sexual.
I do remember the orgasm taking time to build, and it built for far longer than usual before I came. When I did cum, I heard the sound of liquid trickling into the lavatory. Squirt? Pee? I neither knew nor cared. It was a huge orgasm though..just when I thought I knew what a big cum felt like! I guess there’s always a bigger fish!
Since then, I’ve seen dad with a hard on many times, especially during the lockdown when, I think, everyone went a little crazy from time to time. I’ve listened intently to mum and dad having sex, imagining all sorts, but when their foreplay consisted of talking about how I or Alison were developing, I felt a real sense of empowerment.
During lockdown, mum and dad simply got into the habit of being naked, and now and then, they’d just have sex. Ali of I,could stay and watch or leave them some privacy.
One time, I saw mum lower herself onto dad’s cock, and I swear, I could feel it myself! Stretching, forcing its way in.
Sometimes, I really wish I’d had a brother. I don’t doubt for a moment there would have been some exploration. Once Ali got over her…..hmm……her what…..snobbishness sounds wrong……oh I don’t know……it felt like she was uncomfortable that she had sexual feelings and tried to deny them, but that day in the lounge, again during lockdown, her sexual feelings won the day, and her hand disappeared into her jeans. She was a different girl after we’d both seen one another cum.
Her little double tap on my bedroom door heralded more exploration, which got rapidly wilder and raunchier. Yes….it was utterly gorgeous. You know, I’ve only just realised as I’m writing this, that if I could hear mum and dad….although only just, and to hear clearly involved opening a vent and standing on a chair in my closet, then, of course, they could hear us, especially when Ali turned her volume control up. Mum and dad knew we were experimenting, but made no move to stop us.
I think if a brother had been involved, they would have wanted to make sure pregnancy was impossible, but I doubt they would have stopped us. One of my favourite fantasies is about my imaginary brother. It’s a field of rich pickings, from him discovering me naked, or even masturbating, to me catching him, then the exploration together….me wanking him off, him wanking me…oral…leading eventually to us ‘doing it.’ Mmmmm. (Stop it Anna…you don’t have time for a wank now.”
Or do I…..
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