Variations On A Theme

You see, it’s more than just a feeling in my boobs or between my legs. It’s more than becoming wet. These are merely the physical signs of arousal. Important as they are, and enjoyable as each one is in and of itself, the next question is ‘How to satisfy myself?’ And it here that Miss Brain comes into play. 

Just stick my hand down there and wank? Oh dear me no….not since I was 13, anyway. I’ve learned the gentle art of delayed gratification. 

I masturbated three times today, each with a different theme, each yielding different orgasms. 

1) The Innocent.

Yes, it’s worth dressing up to masturbate, it really is. The moment I became aware of the arousal, the email from Miss Brain plopped into my inbox. “Hmm….this feels like it used to way back at the start, doesn’t it?” A mere hint, but she’s right….it did. In fact, the actual day surfaced in my head. I had just turned 14, and, although used to playing with myself, and used to cumming, that particular day was, perhaps, the first day I really let Miss Brain control the proceedings. 

So, into my bedroom, and a change of clothes. Trainer bra, shirt, skirt, keep the white (and very moist) panties on. 

I gently unbutton the shirt and slip my bra straps over my shoulders, the soft brushed cotton material slides easily under my tiny ‘a’ cup boobs, and although it doesn’t really push them up higher, it looks like that’s what’s happening, and I love the feeling of that! 

I lift my skirt and gaze at my panties….panties boys would like to take off me….panties maybe girls might too? I focus on boys this time though. I know boys are interested in what I’ve got between my legs, and I know what they’d like to do. Although I couldn’t imagine, at 14, how I could possibly accommodate a boy’s cock inside me, it didn’t stop me from imagining. 

I look at myself in the mirror as I did back on that day. I look wanton, dirty….a slut. I look intently at my mouth as I whisper, “You dirty…..fucking….cunt.” Now, as then, the shock of the word reverberates through me, and I feel a flood of wetness leaves me. I run a hand between my legs and feel the wet slipperiness on the outside of my panties. I bring it immediately to my face and inhale. Musk…musk and a vague hint of pee…..my head swims. 

I drift lazily over to my bed, and lie down. I can still see myself in the mirrors, and with my feet up by my bum and my knees flopped apart, I both look and feel like a whore. I tug my panties aside and expose myself. I look at my wet, glistening sex in the mirror. My vulva….no, that won’t do at all. My pussy? Oh for fuck’s sake! My gash…mmmm better….my hole…..my cunt. Yes, that’s good….my wet cunt. 

As my arousal builds, I see myself opening;…my hole….ready, gasping to receive a cock. I remember, for the first time then I thought it might actually be possible for me to accept a cock up there. I touch my clit, and close my eyes. In my head, Miss Brain has a boy I knew undressed and climbing on me. I seem to really feel his cock against my wetness. I’m scared he’ll make me pregnant of course, but I’m rampant with desire for him too. 

I imagine him applying pressure and the sharp stab of pain as my hymen tears. I even feel the trickle of blood down my bum crack. My fingers are a blur on my clit. I’m imagining him moving inside me now. Yes…fuck me….fuck me faster. It’s ok, I want you to cum inside me. 

At the moment I imagine him spurting in me, I cum. That was, back then, a milestone. I felt different after it. Something in me had changed. I had taken a step nearer having real sex, and nothing would be the same again. 

2) Early afternoon. 

It was the inability to concentrate, to focus, that alerted me to my body’s messages. I was feeling sharp pangs of, oh I don’t know, tension? Desire? Lust? Oh yes all of those, but something more too….something submissive….something dark. I know, a quick cum. That will help. But no. Miss Brain intervened with a single image. Me, face down on the bed. My hands tied, and a man on me….and not in my vagina. 

Last year, Emily and I bought a….you know, I don’t even know what it’s called. I suppose an automatic fuck machine will do. We only used it once. 

Have you ever tried to set one of these things up solo? It clamps to the footboard of the bed so it has some kind of resistance, and then you have this extendable rod thing with a realistic latex cock at the end….actually, this one has a choice of cocks. I messed around and fiddled with it, until my hands were in handcuffs, and holding the remote control, and the medium-sized cock, well lubricated, was just inside my bum. Then I needed a few moments for Miss Brain to get her paint box out and fill in the blanks for me. 

And what a picture she painted! The woods….at night….me lying face down over a large rock, my hands tied in front of me. And aa man….with his son. “Go on, now boy….just like I told you…….no…..not there. You get to have her there later. That’s right…there!” I set the machine in a slow gentle motion and felt it slide fully into my bum. Fuck that feels good! The rape scenario added a piquancy to it that was pure heaven. “Do it like you mean it” the gruff voice in my head sounded so real! I increase the pace of the dildo. 

“No. Please! Not like this….it’s it’s perverse!”

“Shut up, bitch.”

I can almost physically feel the boy’s hands on my hips as he holds me….pulls me to him to meet his thrusts. Then I imagine his dad, u zipping, pressing his cock into my mouth and I realise I’m being spit-roasted. I can taste vagina on the man’s cock. No doubt he’s been up his wife recently. 

The excitement is building in me. I have always been able to cum through anal stimulation alone, and imagining being forced over a rock in the dead of night is pure heaven. “Dad….i’m gonna cum.”

“Do it boy! I’ll shoot my load down her throat.”

And again, my world shattered into orgasm, but oh. How different from the one earlier today. This was sharper, edgier, more torn from me that willingly entered into. 

(Note to self. Must experiment more with this auto fuck machine! Way better than I thought it would be.

3) Bed time. Missing Emily.

Can’t sleep. Rolling around this huge bed with no-one to cuddle into. Fuck! Idly, my hand reaches under the pillows and…..what’s this? I grasp something soft, and pull it from its hiding place. A pair of pale yellow cotton panties. A huge smile spreads across my face I know why they’re here, and how they came to be here. My lovely wife has cum in these, probably repeatedly. She’s tucked them away for me to find. Oh they’ve been here long enough to have dried out, but I can do something about that! 

A quick trip to the kitchen and boil the kettle. The steam softens the crisp fabric, and releases her scent. Back upstairs, I’m under the duvet smelling my wife’s sex. Miss Brain says “Do you remember when you first went down on her?” Oh do I! 

Pubes! Myself and Alison being pubeless, it’s something one forgets about, but Emily smelled deliciously of talc and sex. I remembered burying my head in her hair and inhaling until I felt dizzy. Then her first taste. Like every guy, every girl has her own unique taste built around a common theme. I recall that, I suppose because of the sheer amount of pubic hair she had back then, that the pee scent was more pronounced than it is on hairless girls….and it drove me crazy. 

My hand is in my panties, my legs spread. I’m not masturbating as I usually do. Instead, my finger is behaving like Emily’s tongue. Being an accomplished flautist, her tongue is amazing! So, I’m here, smelling her sex which thanks to the kettle is now warm and moist again, and feeling her tongue against me. My heart beats with love for this girl. I’d be lost without her and she is my world. I remember her being shy to cum in my mouth as, like many girls, she fears peeing when she orgasms. It took ages before she trusted herself to just go with it, and to trust me when I said I truly didn’t care if she did.

I edge closer to orgasm, closer to cumming enveloped in my wife’s scent. Miss brain plays me a high resolution replay of Emily cumming into my mouth, and the memory sparks my own climax. But oh, how different this one is. It doesn’t just roll through me like thunder, it rolls from me. I am romantic enough to imagine it rolls from me, across the ether to Emily who will feel it herself.

So, three orgasms in a day. All totally different from one another, all beautiful, all valued. From my earliest foray into sex to now. What a beautiful world it is.