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Some years have passed since my last relationship. And as I take a good look at myself in the mirror I’m wondering how someone as fine as myself is still single and most importantly, DICKLESS. I mean my momma didn’t name me Queen just because that was the only name she could think of. She marked me for life and I have standards I must live up to and uphold.

Sometimes if you want something done you have to do it yourself. I go to my closet and pull out my box of toys. It’s been so long since I veered in the box that I almost forgot I had it. Clearly it’s been neglected because when I open it the first thing I notice is dust and rust. I have a pair of metal handcuffs that for sure won’t be going around my wrists looking like this. I have never used them so I don’t even know why they have rusted. Oh now I see, somehow a bottle of one of my sensual oils must have leaked on it. To the trash it goes. Just money down the drain and now I don’t even have any more oils just an empty bottle that also got on my silk blindfold. I pick up a purple rigid stick. illegal bahis It’s supposed to be a vibrator but the thing hasn’t vibrated once since I bought it. To the trash it goes too. Well after doing a little spring cleaning in my box of goodies I am only left with a cock ring, a whip, and an unopened gold jack rabbit.

Goldie!! How could I forget about you?! Most importantly why have I never used you. Well it looks like it’s just me, myself, and Goldie for the night!

Goldie is about to be my man of the hour. Lol! Just looking at him and imagining him twirling inside me is turning me on. I open up the package so I can get a good feel for what he is working with. His clear and gold accents twinkle in my eye. With beaded pearls on the inside and a rabbit’s ear to give me a double sensation I’m mad I waited so long to try him out. He looks like he can do things no man can do.

I make sure to fully prepare him by inserting his batteries, like an old man popping Viagra. As I position myself on the bed in a clear angle to see myself in my illegal bahis siteleri full length mirror I mentally prepare to be stimulated in ways that are now but a fantasy to me. In my mind all I hear are the lyrics to Tweet’s song “oops there goes my skirt dropping to my feet, oh my!” I try to envision the intense emotions she felt when she wrote that song. I take a good stare at myself in the mirror and elongate my legs so I can see all my beautiful curves. I power Goldie on and watch the motions as it swirls and vibrates in mid-air. I know the atmosphere is getting a good fuck right now. It’s time for me to really put it to work.

I commence my self-pleasure session by first testing it out on my outer genitalia. Goldie is so talented I can use him in many different forms. I rub the tip of his North Pole all around my clitoris. Ooh Mr. Goldie I wasn’t expecting to feel this. Who needs a man when you have this? A man can’t vibrate his dick like this dildo can. In a matter of seconds Goldie had my clit pulsating and pussy lips glistening. Now canlı bahis siteleri I was really ready for what Goldie had to offer. I turned the speed all the way up and slowly inserted him into my little home. The more I inserted the more the wave of vibrations passed through my body.

Each inch deeper brought Goldie’s rabbit ears closer and closer to my pearl. Now with his dome swimming around at my base, shaft rotating pearls of joy against my walls, and ears hopping away at my clitoris I lost all control. It had only been a few minutes and I was already feeling like I had to pee. I held back from cumming because this was going to be my first time in years and I wanted to really make it worth it. I continued stroking Goldie in and around my treasure. The pressure built up and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I tilt my head back and let go of Goldie as I fully let myself go. The flow of my juices was so strong it pushed Goldie right out me and onto the floor. Whew! It felt like such a release. There was a trail of cum leading from my pussy lips to the bed and floor. What a mess I had to clean up but it felt so good I didn’t even care. I continued lying down and eventually dosed off.

I woke up an hour later thinking to myself “damn I didn’t even need a man I put my own ass to sleep!”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is the second in a series of stories about a woman, suffering from depression over the death of her husband, who learns that he had a secret, depraved life, totally at odds with his seeming disinterest in sex. As she delves into his secret porn collection she experiences her own sexual awakening and recovers from her depression in the process.

*****

The next day I dressed for work just as I always did—dark slacks, flat-soled shoes, a white blouse and a brightly colored scarf just to give the whole outfit some flare. My underwear was my usual white panties and functional ho-hum bra. Really quite boring, but certain not to give offense to anyone. Like if I got hit by a truck and had to go to the hospital or some such.

There was one thing that was different, not that anyone could tell. I could tell, though. My sex was shaved completely bare. It made me feel as though I was indecently dressed, even though no one could see a thing and I was wearing the same clothes I always wore. The feeling was delicious, but somewhat distracting. I managed to keep my mind on my work when the kids were around, but much of the rest of the day my emotions were waffling between a mild guilt and a thoroughly enjoyable feeling that I was getting away with something no one could see.

The important thing was that I didn’t think about Larry all day. I didn’t realize that until I got home, but the black cloud that Larry’s death had been simply wasn’t there—all day. I had lunch with some of the teachers and enjoyed listening to them gossip about the principal and other teachers not at the table. I doubted if much of it was true, but that didn’t matter. The talk was mildly scandalous, and I enjoyed it as I sat there wondering what they would think if they knew about my naked pussy, and how they would gossip about that if I were not there. They couldn’t know, of course, but I let myself think they might.

Perhaps the healthiest part of lunch was that I actively participated. I didn’t have any dirt of my own to dish up, and I wasn’t about to just make something up. But I confess I actively encouraged the others to tell what they knew (or thought they knew) by asking leading questions. (“Do you think they really went to the mall or did they go to a motel?”) It was fun. Fun was something I hadn’t had in months, with the exception of my masturbation of the last few days, but this was a healthier kind of fun.

My days for the rest of the week were pretty much the same. My evenings were a good deal different. As each day wore on, my mind kept turning to my plan for the evening—masturbating as I looked at Larry’s porn collection on my wide-screen TV. By the time I got home each day I was horny as hell. I went directly to the bedroom and stripped off all my clothes. Then I would stand before the full-length mirror in our bath and watch myself as I fondled my tits and lightly stroked my sex. But I always stopped, before reaching the climax I craved. I wanted to save myself for an extended masturbating session after dinner, when I could sprawl naked on the couch in the living room watching Larry’s porn collection on the TV. Strangely, I enjoyed dinner more with the ache of denied gratification churning my core.

When I wasn’t actively masturbating (really, you can’t do that with all of your spare time) I spent my time around the house naked but for a short, loose silk robe. I thought about just dispensing with clothes completely while at home, but I decided that I liked the robe better. It was almost see through and short enough so that unless I was very careful about how I sat or moved it exposed my sex. Also there was a delicious jiggle of my tits as I walked about the house that would have been obvious to anyone watching. I loved the sensation of my nipples rubbing against the slick fabric of the robe as I moved about. All in all, the robe was more indecent in its own way than actual nudity, because it purported to cover my nakedness and failed miserably. Of course there wasn’t anyone there to see my wanton dress, and if there had been I’m sure I would have lacked the courage to actually dress that way. Still it was fun, and fun was what I desperately needed after six months of being depressed about my late husband.

Another thing I tried was going to the grocery store sans undergarments. Of course I was still wearing my usual conservative dress, usually a knee length skirt and a loose blouse (I didn’t own anything else), but there was a real thrill to walking around the grocery store naked beneath my everyday clothes. I wouldn’t have dared do such a thing at school, but at the grocery store it was okay because I believed I was unlikely to see anyone I knew there. I soon made indecent dress a regular part of my shopping routine.

One day I discovered my assumption that I would never meet anyone I knew at the grocery store to be overly optimistic. As usual, I pranced about the market picking up a few things I needed for güvenilir bahis dinner, thoroughly enjoying the cool air of the market on my naked pussy and the friction of the fabric of my blouse on my nipples as my tits jiggled beneath my clothing. I was standing at the vegetable counter trying to decide on the size of cucumber I wanted for dessert (yes, that kind of dessert. I had become quite fond of cucumbers). Just as I reached for my cucumber/dildo of choice I heard a deep voice with a heavy French accent.

“Alice. My, but you’re looking good today.”

It was my friend Joan’s husband, Hervé. I dropped the cucumber in my basket and looked over my shoulder, knowing immediately who it was by his deep voice and accent. Hervé was a notorious flirt.

“Oh! Hervé, how nice to see you, and thank you,” I said, feeling a moment of panic. What was Hervé doing here. Could he tell I was naked beneath these conservative clothes I was wearing?

“Your colors. They go so well with your skin and hair. You have marvelous taste my dear. And that blouse. It’s a beautiful match with your eyes.”

God he was such an awful flirt, and his eyes were roaming across my body as if he had X-ray vision and could see right through to my nakedness beneath my clothing. All I was wearing was a simple jeans skirt that came nearly to my knees, a pale blue cotton blouse buttoned up discreetly so as not to show any cleavage, and a pair of flip-flops.

My heart was racing and I felt a burst of lust originating in my sex. It wasn’t as though I was standing naked in front of Hervé, but I felt like I was. And the way he was looking at me. He must have known. But how could he? There was the most amazing course of conflicting simultaneous emotions running through me. I was mortified, I was terrified, and I was almost overcome with a burst of lust unlike anything I had ever felt before. “Where is Joan?” I asked, hoping to change the topic to something other than me.

“Oh, she’s around somewhere, but it’s you that is lighting up this dull, drab grocery store.” His lines were especially amusing when delivered in his French accent.

Whew, I thought. If Joan’s here in the store he won’t go too far. Then, for some reason I’ll never understand, I decided to reciprocate.

“It’s so nice to hear you like these clothes.” I did a quick pirouette. As I turned I could feel my long hair swinging away from my neck and the skirt flaring out and showing more of my legs, but not high enough, I hoped, to show him my naked ass.

“Ooh la la,” the lecherous Frenchman responded. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

I pushed my hair back and looked up at him with a smile. “Oh, just here and there. Work, and well that’s about it.” That was about it for the last six months I thought. This was the first flirtatious conversation I had had with a man in months—maybe years.

“And you, Hervé? Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Ooof. You know. I work and work and then Joan. She has her . . . her . . . what you call her honey dos. They never end.”

I laughed. “Poor Hervé. Your life is so hard.”

He reached out and took both my hands, holding them palms up. His hands were surprisingly hard, but warm. “Oh oui. If only I could. . . . We, Alice . . . just you and I. Run away to Provence. Just lie on the beach and make . . .”

Fortunately that was when Joan came around the corner of the aisle, her loud greeting cutting off her husband’s proposition in mid-sentence.

“Alice, you’re out! You’re out of your house, and don’t you look nice.” Her comment on my appearance was an honest compliment, as opposed to Herve’s lecherous flirting.

But as she spoke the thought that crossed my mind was, “Yes, I am out of the house and I do look nice and more importantly, I feel nice . . . and nearly naked.” I smiled just a little at the last part of that thought. Wouldn’t Joan be shocked if she knew.

I thanked her for the compliment and told her I felt nice also. From there the conversation was mostly between Joan and me, her arrival having dampened Hervé’s ardor. Eventually we parted, Joan and Hervé insisting that I join them for dinner again soon and me promising to do so, but with no particular date set.

I finished my shopping and drove home. As I drove, I marveled at how good I felt. I hadn’t enjoyed anything since Larry died as much as I had enjoyed Hervé’s lecherous flirting. Maybe life was going to be okay after all.

I was feeling pretty raunchy when I got home, but instead of just jumping into a masturbation session, I stripped off all of my clothes and put on my lightweight robe. I had left the cucumber sitting on the kitchen counter to warm up a bit. The temperature the grocery store had been storing it at was liable to give my pussy hypothermia, I thought. “I’ll just save that for after dinner,” I told myself.

I also wasn’t quite hungry yet, so I put off dinner for a couple of hours türkçe bahis and sat down before Larry’s computer to explore some more of his debauched interests recorded on his computer. That was the evening I discovered his Literotica account. Once I figured out how the site worked I wanted to see what kind of erotic stories Larry favored. The site had a concept called Favorites that was custom made for tracking a user’s preferences. A little digging in Larry’s computer quickly yielded up his Member Name (“Pervy Larry,” how appropriate I thought) and his password (“Cocksucker,” not at all creative—same as the password for his computer).

When I got into Larry’s account I was shocked to learn that he didn’t just read the site’s erotica. He wrote it. A lot of it. Larry had posted over 100 stories to the site. I don’t know why I was shocked. I mean I had already found that my late husband had saved thousands of pornographic pictures and videos to his hard drive, so why should I be surprised that he wrote and published erotic stories? As I leafed down his story list looking at the lewd titles and brief descriptions of his literary efforts I told myself, “I’m not surprised he read this stuff. That sort of matches his collection of smutty pictures and videos. But writing and publishing it? That’s another step further into depravity than I thought he took. My, my.” I was beyond being upset about Larry’s secret depraved life. I had found I was enjoying it too much myself to be upset with him. But each new revelation came as a bit of a surprise.

Of course Larry’s stories were just like his pictures—I couldn’t resist reading them any more than I could resist masturbating as I looked at his picture and video collection. I opened one at random. I don’t even remember which of the web site’s categories it purported to be posted under. I can’t think of a reason why I should have expected anything else, but I was still a bit shocked at the material Larry had posted. It was lurid.

The story I had chosen at random opened as follows:

I awoke to the sensation of someone sucking my cock. I picked my head up and looked down to see a tangle of long blonde hair positioned over my crotch. She was on her knees, her head down hoovering my quickly hardening prick with her round ass in the air. I could feel her tits rubbing softly on my thighs.

But who was she? And where was I. I had gone to a bar the night before and had way too much to drink, but there was no memory of anything beyond the smoky bar.

Fuck, could she suck cock! Her tongue was rubbing the sensitive underside of my prick as she raised and lowered her mouth on it. When she reached the upper end of her stroke she let her tongue tease the end of my prick while her hands twisted and stroked my saliva-covered shaft. After a bit of this basic but talented cocksucking she adjusted her posture just a bit and, “Oh Shit!,” She took my prick down her throat. I could feel her nose buried in the pubes at the base of my prick. My cock, the part that was now down her throat, felt like it was buried in a hot, wet pussy.

She held my prick there, buried in her throat, for what seemed like forever, until she finally needed to breath. She pulled her head clear back from my cock and sat up using one hand to continue stroking my prick while the other pushed her hair out of her face. Now I could see her, but I still didn’t recognize her. Her hair was a thick, unruly blonde mop that hung down to her shoulders. She had big soft tits that swung back and forth as she moved around.

“Hi,” she said.

“Uh . . . Hi,” I responded. “Do I know you?”

“Not really.” Now she was jacking my cock with both hands. “We met at River Street bar last night.”

That was good. I could remember that River Street was the name of the bar I had gone to. “Oh.” I said. I was silent for a moment trying to remember more about the night before, but my headache and what this voluptuous blonde was doing to my prick was distracting me.

“I know this isn’t going to sound good,” I said, “but where are we, and how did I get here.”

Now she was rubbing her nipples with the end of my prick. “Mmmm. That feels good.” she said. She was silent for quite awhile as she rubbed my cock against her tits. Finally she spoke, “You’re at my apartment. We came here last night.”

There was more silence while she masturbated my cock between her big tits. Shit that felt good, but I still wanted to know how I got here.

“You promised me, you know,” she said.

Oh oh. That didn’t sound good. “Uh, what did I promise?” Not a good question to have to ask.

She giggled at my discomfort with my failed memory. “You promised me you would fuck me. You also promised you would eat me until I screamed for mercy.”

“Oh, okay,” I said as a wave of relief flooded through me. It could have been much worse.

“And did I?” I gasped as she dragged the head of my prick over one of her güvenilir bahis siteleri engorged nipples.

Her face grew pouty as she responded, “No. You passed out.”

“Well,” I said, “if you’ll give me a couple of ibuprofen and a cup of coffee, I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” she asked. She was still looking pouty.

“I’ll fuck you ’till your ears ring—in every room in this apartment. And I’ll eat you ’till you scream for mercy.” I was hoping she was the kind of girl who appreciated graphic dirty talk during sex.

“Okay,” she said, still holding my hard cock. Her pouty look had disappeared, replaced by a smile. “But can I get a sample now?” she asked.

“What’ll it be, fucking or sucking?” I asked.

She rolled off of me, flopping on her back, her legs spread lewdly, and said, “Eat me. Eat me ’till I cum and then I’ll fix you breakfast—with coffee.

“And ibuprofen?” I countered.

“Yes. Now get between my legs and start licking.”

I sat up and crawled between her legs. I was on my knees and elbows with my face just in front of her pussy. My god my head hurt. But if this was what it was going to take to get some ibuprofen, I was going to get right to it . . .

I was sitting before Larry’s laptop in his office with my robe open and my legs spread—I was so fucking horny! Dinner was out of the question. I wanted to read more of Larry’s pervy writing. I got up and walked quickly to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine and a glass, my tits jiggling and my open robe flapping behind me as I walked. After opening a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, I carried it and the cucumber back to the den. I poured myself a glass and sat before Larry’s desk sipping the wine as I read story after story from his Literotica page.

They weren’t great literature. The sentences were short, plots simple, or even nonexistent in some stories, commas seemingly random, and spelling shaky at best (didn’t he know about Microsoft’s greatest invention, spell check?). But Larry’s stories had one redeeming quality. They provided graphic descriptions of a wide range of sexual activities and the emotions of the participants, and they made me horny as hell. By midnight I had consumed most of the bottle of wine and cum four times. I wasn’t sure which was closer to being worn out, my pussy or the cucumber. Fuck, what an evening.

The next morning as I lay in bed before getting up to dress and go to work, I asked myself about the prior evening’s new revelations about Larry’s depravity. “My god he had a dirty mind. But why didn’t he expose me to that lewdly creative mind? I would have loved it. ”

“But would I really?” I asked myself. “I mean,” I said as I continued talking to myself, “a lot has changed in the last couple of weeks. Before Larry died you would never have walked around naked all over the house and masturbated in the back yard. Hell you hardly ever masturbated at all. The only thing you did less of was fucking with Larry. And if he had shown you his porn collection and his filthy stories, what would you have done?” I asked myself.

That caused me to pause. “Really what would I have done?” I asked. After another long pause I admitted to myself, “I probably would have screamed at him for being a pervert and made him sleep on the couch . . . or worse.”

“Yes,” I told myself. “Things have changed. Now I enjoy his collection of depravity.”

As I lay there, I began thinking about his stories. God they had made me horny. I asked myself ,”Which one was the best? I mean the hottest. None of them could be called great literature.” I remembered one in which he told of a couple that hooked up in a bar one night.

As I thought about that story I pulled my legs up and began to stroke my sex. My outer lips were quickly swelling and within minutes my juices were making me slippery. I let my fingers slide between my outer lips and begin to stroke my inner lips and slide into my fuck hole. “Fuck hole?” I said aloud. “When did you begin talking like that Alice?” I asked myself. “Fuck it,” I responded and shoved my fingers deeper into my cunt.

The story was told from the woman’s point of view. She was married and on a business trip. While the smooth-talking man she had met in the bar was picking her up she was feeling some guilt about what she wanted to do (which was to fuck this guy). Of course, as in all stories of this nature, her husband was a lout who didn’t even attempt to meet her sexual needs and treated her abusively. It was obvious Larry wanted the reader to believe his heroine was doing something very nasty, but totally justified because of her husband’s failures. It helped me step into the woman’s character as I read the story. He had done a nice job of having the heroine occasionally feel guilt about cheating on her husband and then quickly succumb to the charms of her partner for the evening.

I thought about rereading the story as a whole on the tablet that lay on my nightstand, but I didn’t have time. I needed to get up and get to work. But oh fuck I was horny. How had I gotten that horny so quickly just lying there thinking about one of maybe a dozen stories I had read the night before?

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hearing the gate open, I jump up from the sofa and go to open the front door, but not without a quick glance in the mirror on the way. There he is, the delivery guy, looking hot and a little sweaty from carrying heavy boxes. ‘Fuck, he’s fit’ I think, as he smiles and rummages around in his pocket. A huge box of dog food, ‘Oh Christ’ I sigh inwardly, feeling more the boring, frumpy housewife than ever. He finds the pen and looks up to me to pass it over and gives me a smile, I melt.

His smile lingers, I assume waiting for me to sign and give him back the pen, but even when I hand it over he looks me straight in the eye and says something. I’ve no idea what, I’m far too busy sliding his shirt off over his shoulders and unbuttoning his jeans. He repeats himself, but I’m still not listening, I can’t stop imagining what his hands feel like running over my skin, slipping under the denim of my shorts.

The next thing I know, he’s whistling away back to his van and I’m standing there, open mouthed, red cheeked and feeling like an idiot. A dripping wet, fucking horny idiot.

I can’t help myself, I close the door and on impulse walk up the stairs to my bedroom. I look at myself in the mirror, taking in my long, bare legs, the short denim cut offs, and the slightly too low-cut vest top. Watching myself, I run my canlı bahis şirketleri hands across my stomach, and up over the curve of my breasts, until my fingers slip under the material of my top and my lace bra and one finds my already hard nipple. I feel a bolt of electricity as I run my finger over it, squeezing and pinching it. I slide my other hand down between my legs. Even though my shorts, I feel my fingers press on to my clit. It feels good, I move over to my bed, lowering myself onto it, I reach over to my bedside table and reach inside for the only thing that is going to help me get the image of this guy fucking me out of my head.

I unbutton my shorts and slip them down over my hips, and spread my legs, letting my knees drop so my pussy is exposed, I can feel the cool air against my smooth wet skin. One hand continues to tease my nipples, pinching and flicking, while the other hand gently strokes my inner thigh. I close my eyes and picture him. I imagine he’s there, watching me. I can practically smell him, I can feel the heat of his rock hard cock as he watches me slide my fingers closer and closer to my pussy, teasing, until I can’t bear it any longer and I slip my fingers inside and instantly feel myself start to throb. My pussy feels good, it’s hot and very wet, my fingers slip in easily and canlı kaçak iddaa I can feel how tight I am. I gently play with myself until I can feel my body relax.

Picturing him standing over me, watching me, with his cock in his hand, I push my fingers deeper and deeper into my soaking pussy, while I move my other hand down to my clit and start to slip my fingers over it, I don’t care about making this last, I just want to cum hard, with the image of him fresh in my mind. I can see him now, rock hard cock, inches from my mouth, wanting to push it so far down my throat that I choke on it while I cum. Thinking about his thick veiny cock in my face pushes me closer to the edge, and I can tell I’m not going to last much longer, so I grab the thick, silicone dildo next to me on the bed and I push the head of it against my dripping pussy. Its fucking huge, I can feel it pushing against me, and then the moment it starts to slide inside, making me gasp. I feel the length of it as I push it in, leaving it for a second to relish the feeling of it filling me up.

Pushing the dildo deep into my pussy, I start to grind up and down on it, holding it in place and letting my body do all the work. I picture him standing there, still watching me, still holding his cock. He would be smiling, running hands along the length canlı kaçak bahis of it, taking in every gasp of mine as I plunge that big, thick toy in to my pussy, feeling myself building up to cumming hard all over it. All I can think about is him watching me, I wish he was there, I’d beg him to run his hands over my body, then slip a tentative finger into the entrance to my asshole, tease it while I cum hard all over my toy. He would watch me cum, watch my sweaty body writhe as I lift my ass into the air and bring it down again. Wishing he was there, watching while I fuck myself, and he plays, gently teasing my ass.

Thinking about him trying so hard not to shoot his hot, sticky, cum all over me pushes me over the edge and the build up finally peaks and I start to cum, hard, all over the thick toy. I keep fucking myself, sliding the toy in and out until the last of the electricity has ebbed, I can feel my juices dripping over my fingers as I gently pull the toy out. My heart is racing, I can feel it beating in my chest and in my clit. I close my eyes again and picture him, this time he’s lost a bit of his sparkle, but I know the next time he shows up at my front door I am going to have to do something about it. I need to taste his cock, I want to feel his cum drip down the back of my throat, I want to feel him balls deep inside me, while I ride him and cum all over his cock.

I grab my phone from my shorts pocket and check my emails for the due date of my next delivery, I’m going to get ready this time. I’ll be expecting him, and he won’t be able to resist.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hi everyone! I’m trying my hand at a Hucow story. I’ve seen that this is quite a popular fetish. Please bear with me, since I am just starting out, and still need to polish up my writing skills. All Characters are over the age of eighteen.

*****

I can’t believe what has happened to me in the last year! If I had been told that I’d be where I am now, I’d have called them crazy. Now, I can’t believe my luck, not all of it good, but most of it has been a dream come true.

Let me introduce myself. My name is John, I’m just your average guy, mid twenties, nothing to make me out to be anything special. Just another face in a crowd, so to speak, and quite content at that. That is, until the incident, or at least that’s how I call it.

I was your struggling student at my local college, getting my degree in Computer Science and Network Administration when my world was completely turned around.

I remember as a kid, while still in Middle School; seeing the headlines of the day that the population was in crisis.

‘THE END OF THE HUMAN RACE!!’

‘EXPERTS PANIC OVER THE LACK OF FEMALE BIRTHS!’

‘WE AIN’T GOT MILK!’

‘DAIRY INDUSTRY GONE!’

There was only one girl born out of every twenty pregnancies; and, with the rampant overpopulation of the planet, there were no open spaces for livestock to graze. This led to a crisis that the cattle, dairy, horse, goat and sheep industries were gone.

The few spaces that were left were quickly converted to high yield modern agriculture. Mainly for vegetable and grain production; using various techniques like aquaponics, and various other methods of low impact farming.

A few years after that, once I was in High School, I learned that the decline of the female population was due to a genetic mutation, one that only three in ten thousand men could produce an “X” chromosome that would conceive a girl. Needless to say that by the time I graduated; my graduating class consisted only hormone fueled teenage boys.

Once I got to college; the whole thing was ridiculous. There were only 5 girls in the whole campus, and they were sequestered to the point that they had very little to no interaction with any male members of the student population.

I had heard my parent’s version of their days at college, where there were more girls, and a lot of parties where couples could meet and hook up. Nowadays it was more like an all boys boarding school; where most parties were just sitting around drinking and playing bar games.

During my third year of college, we were subjected to a battery of medical tests as part of an initiative from the government to help identify those of us that could still produce the “X” chromosome and be able to father girls. To say these tests were embarrassing is an understatement; we were prodded, made to ejaculate into sterile containers, if I lost three pints of blood, I was lucky. All the results of these tests were kept hidden from all of us and it wasn’t until after I had graduated that I received a strange letter in the mail.

It came in a Government letterhead, Department of Health and Reproductive Administration (DHRA). I had heard of this agency back when the whole decline of the female population was beginning to be noticed, and I guess it carried over to when the different countries of the world; after long years of civil unrest and the panic of becoming an all male population; decided to unite into one single entity and we now have a centralized world government.

‘Dear Mr. Chase,

You have been selected to take part in a program within the HR&DRI and you an report to your local DHRA office to register and further processing.’

I kept reading the letter and my appointment was next week at the office across town.

Since I had just graduated, I didn’t have a job just yet, and was debating with either starting my own consulting firm, or if I should start working at some conglomerate and start what I had planned for my life. I was taking a month off, still living at home with the parents, so I decided to go ahead and keep the appointment.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do.” Said my mom, not hiding the worry on her face.

“It is a summon by the government,” my dad interjected. “I think it has to do with the mandatory tests you had in college.” Not hiding the surge of pride in his voice, but still laced with some worry.

I had a feeling he knew a bit more than he was letting on, but I decided to let it go, and made my plans to kill time for the next week, hanging out with friends, or getting into some online gaming with my college buddies.

I managed to put everything out of my mind for the next week, until the day before my appointment. I received a text message from the DHRA reminding me of the appointment, and giving me the last minute instructions on the documentation I had to have with me.

As I was getting everything ready to go, my mom was at the door to my room just watching me gather my paperwork, ID’s, illegal bahis and other miscellaneous things I would need.

“I’m still worried about this,” she said.

“Mom, this is just an interview, I really don’t think you should be all worked up about this. I’m sure I’ll be back before lunch.” I told her, in a calm reassuring way.

“Babe, let the boy be, he’s a grown man and I think he’ll be just fine. Like he said, he’ll probably be home by lunch, and you can ask him all about it then.” My father said, backing me up.

“Thanks dad, I’ll tell you guys all about it tomorrow at lunch,” I said, “good night.”

I couldn’t really sleep that night, my mom’s worried look, my dad’s trepidation, and my own curiosity getting the better of me. I decided to do a little net surfing, finding some videos to watch and release some of my tension.

I found some porn videos that had my ideal type of girl in them. That being a natural redhead, with a soft curvy body; large breasts with pink nipples, a round ample ass and hips, and a shaved pussy; tight lipped with the perfect pink clit. I found a video of this dream girl masturbating, which is one of my favorite fetishes, and proceeded to jerk myself off to her. Remembering the instructions that I was to abstain from ejaculating twenty four hours before my scheduled appointment, I decided to just edge myself and try to get some sleep.

The next morning, my alarm woke me up early in the morning, and I went to get ready for the day. My mom was in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone and the smell of the eggs, and sausages was wafting through the house as I made my way to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. I was having this feeling of excitement and dread at what lay ahead of me this morning.

“Hi sweetie!” My mom greeted me as she placed a plate and a glass of juice in front of my spot at the table.

“Morning mom, morning dad.” I replied, sitting down to start eating.

“I guess this is the big day, I hope that you’ve made your commute plans, you don’t want to be late for your appointment.” My dad said, in his best lecturing tone.

“Yeah dad, I actually went during the week to check out the times for the bus schedule and see if there was the option of taking the AirTrans, but the times just don’t work. So, I guess I’ll be taking the bus and have a little stroll through downtown.” I replied.

“I hope it’s going to be something quick, maybe they’re offering you an internship in their IT department.” Mom said, with a hopeful tone.

“I don’t know mom, they were pretty vague in what they wanted to see me about.” I said.

After finishing my plate, I kissed mom on the cheek thanking her for breakfast, patted dad’s shoulder, saying good bye and wishing them a good day. I walked out and grabbed the bus to the center of town.

I got off the bus and started walking the four blocks to the DHRA building. After a few minutes, I was standing in front of a tall high rise that had an unassuming brass plaque in front with the address number and Department of Health and Reproductive Administration identifying sigils.

Stepping into the lobby, I went to the information desk to ask for the office I was supposed to go to. The receptionist looked at my letter, verified my information in his computer and instructed me to go to the lower level and suite 0269.

Walking through the halls, I noticed a lot of what I assumed was medical personnel, a lot of men, and a few women in lab coats. While that was nothing strange in the male to female ratios, what was interesting to see was that all the women were older; maybe in their late fifties to early sixties. All of them went around in what would have been described as a catwalk gait, you know the one where they cross their legs on every step. Also, all of them had a figure that would make a porn star jealous; wide hips swinging side to side, big breasts jiggling with every step. The one common trait on all of them, was that their impossibly large breasts would stay high on their chests, the jiggling of them spoke to a lack of a bra, but they maintained the shape and fullness of being constricted into one.

Finding the door to the suite, I announced myself to the receptionist, which took my letter, ID, and handed me a clipboard with a small questionnaire. It was the same one that I had filled out in college for the original study.

“Okay, this is not an interview for an I.T. job.” I said to myself as I filled out the form.

“Mr. Chase?” A middle aged gentleman in a lab coat called out.

“Yes, sir.” I answered as I stood to greet him.

Handing him the clip board, he motioned for me to follow him. We stepped into a small examination room, similar to my doctor’s. I was told to strip from the waist down and make myself comfortable, and that someone would be coming in to complete my registration into the program.

After a few minutes, a knock brought me out of my thoughts and another gentleman in lab coat entered. He introduced illegal bahis siteleri himself as Dr. Singh with a slight accent.

“Thank you for coming Mr. Chase, we were hoping that you would be interested in our program and would agree to join it.” He said, in a calming tone.

“I was curious about the letter, since it is a bit vague in what the program is and what would be expected of me. At first, I thought it was to joint the I.T. Department for the DHRA; but, now I’m not so sure.” I replied.

He smiled in a knowing way, shaking his head. “I hate it that the letters have to be so vague. The truth is, you have been selected for this program because of your body’s ability to be able to produce the ‘X’ chromosome. Something that has been in very short supply for the last few decades.”

It took me about three minutes to get an idea of what he was talking about; chromosomes, vague explanations, cryptic letters, etc? Then it hit me, “This is like a breeding program? That my sperm would be used to create female embryos?” I asked, my voice getting a little louder and higher pitched in my disbelief.

“In a way,” he said with the knowing smile and a slight laugh. “You see, for some reason we have had very low female birth rates, to the point that it has come to an emergency situation and to ensure our survival, we have had to take some extreme measures.”

I was still processing the information that he was giving me when he went into some other details.

“Also, since the whole dairy industry has gone belly up, so to say, we have done some other research in trying to bring it back to suit the needs of the population.” He continued. “The Human Reproduction and Dairy Research Institute has been experimenting with various techniques but we have found one that has the most success.”

Swallowing hard, my mind filling in the details, “Are you saying that I would be donating sperm, and only the X chromosome would be used?” I asked.

Smiling once again, he continued. “In a way, you are correct; but, we have found that in vitro fertilization has not yielded the results we were looking for so the program managers have decided to use the old-fashioned method for conception.”

I looked at him with a blank stare, until it finally hit me. “You mean I will be having sex with some woman to get her pregnant?” I asked, if not a little loudly.

“Yes, but it will be with more than one; once conception is done, you will still have other duties to attend to, since it is also part of the dairy program, you will be assisting in milk production.” He continued.

My head was spinning at this moment, I was going to have sex with multiple women, get them pregnant and then assist in milk production, what ever that was about. On top of all that, I was going to be compensated, with room, board, and a generous salary. I kept thinking to myself that there was a catch, and sure enough there was one.

“There is just a few things that you would need to understand; the contract would be for ten years, during that time, you will be given medications that would inhibit the production of ‘Y” chromosomes in your sperm,” he continued. “Also, to keep up with demand, there are other supplements that will be used to enhance sperm production and stamina; which might have some physical as well as behavioral side effects.”

That got my attention. “What kind of side effects are we talking about Doc?” I asked. “Am I going to sprout a third leg, an extra ear?” I joked, but still hearing the stress in my own voice.

“Nothing as radical as that,” he replied. “You will just find that physically you will be larger, stronger and both your penis and scrotum would increase in size. Also, your libido would increase quite dramatically, and it will take some time to learn to control it.”

Okay, that didn’t sound too bad. My mind was still trying to catch up to the implications that Dr. Singh was giving me.

“If you sign the contract, it would be for a minimum of ten years. For the first year you would be sequestered to our training facility in the South Pacific, where you would undergo the medical aspects of the transformation and the psychological observation and assessment for the program. You will also begin your training for both physical stamina and mental fortitude to contain your libido as the different drugs and supplements accumulate in your system.” He announced dryly.

“You mean a year in a tropical paradise where I’d be training?” I asked incredulously.

“It may look like a paradise, but it is far from it. The training is rigorous, and our candidate screening is quite selective.” He added, “we can only accept the top candidates, due to the nature of the work. For the first six months of the training you will be allowed certain liberties in the facility, but after that time period, your real training would begin.”

The last few words called up a yellow flag in my mind, it sounded alike an ominous warning not to be taken lightly. “It all sounds canlı bahis siteleri too good to be true Doctor, what are the cons if I sign the contract?” I asked.

“There are certain rules that must be followed withing the program, and you have to forego any claim on any offspring you sire. You will not have any say on who your breeding partner would be, and there are other responsibilities you will have within the program.” He said in a nonchalant way, as if he was giving me a weather report. “Oh, and also, while training, you will have very limited contact with friends and family.” He added as if it were an inconsequential thing.

“How limited?” I asked, “because I know that my parents would definitely be concerned if I suddenly fall off the face of the Earth, and I do have a few friends from college that would be concerned as well.”

“Limited to letters at first, which would also be monitored.” He replied. “As you can see, the very nature of the program is quite sensitive, and we wouldn’t want the public to be misinformed of the service it provides for the whole of the world, not to mention the continuation of the human race.”

“I don’t know Doctor, it doesn’t seem like everything is above board on this, if you know what I mean.” I said, with a bit of hesitation. “It all seems well and good on one part, I know it is kind of like my duty due to the coin toss of genetics; but it seems like there’s something not so black and white in the whole sales pitch you’re giving me.”

He looked at me in a way that made me feel a bit more at ease, since my stress levels were rising due to the information he was giving me. Reaching into the drawer at the desk, he pulled out what I assumed was the induction packet for the program.

“Here is some more information, and the contract you need to sign to get the full disclosure. After signing the contract, you will have five days to get everything in order and report back to this office for transportation to the training facility, and the beginning of your medical treatments.” He said in a more professional manner than the previous conversation. “Take your time to look it over, and I’ll be back once you’ve made up your mind.”

With that, he left the room and left me to inspect the contract and the rest of the information. It all seemed pretty straight forward on the contract, and I was trying to read between the lines or the fine print. There was still this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that some things could be interpreted differently, and that there was some language that could be misconstrued, but nothing really jumped out at me as a red flag.

I looked over the information of the training facility and, what the different medical and psychological tests and/or treatments would be administered there. There were a few photos of the area close to the facility, nothing to specify the location, but enough to see that it was run as a camp, or lower level government retreat.

I read the contract once again, signed my name on the line and then I waited for the doctor to return. I hadn’t been waiting more than ten minutes when the door opened again and he stepped in. I handed over the signed contract and saw a relieved smile on his face, apparently he was under instructions to get me to sign no matter what. He called the reception desk, and informed them that I would be returning in five days time for transport to the training facility.

As he was saying good bye to me, another person walked in. She was one of the statuesque older women that had passed me in the hallway as I was walking in. She had on the same white lab coat, but unlike the Doctor or any of the techs, it was open, revealing a tight red silk blouse and a black mid thigh skirt. I couldn’t help but appreciate her womanly curves and the grace in which she carried herself as she entered the room. What struck me the most was her eyes, they had a naughty gleam in them, while not predatory, it still made me feel like I was the special of the day at the buffet line.

She smiled as she walked over to me, her eyes looking me over. The closer she got, the bigger the smile on her lips. I was mesmerized by the way she moved, her hips moving side to side with every step; the click clack of her heels on the tile floor, and the truly hypnotizing way her breasts would wobble in time with her steps.

Once she got close enough, I could smell her perfume, a mixture of lavender and honey mixed in with her natural pheromones. I could feel cock begin to stir under the gown as she came closer, the mixture of her perfume, pheromones, and the slightly tangy scent of her arousal hitting me all at once.

I swallowed hard as she ran her hands over my arms, gently squeezing my muscles. Giving me appreciative glances as her eyes followed the path of her hands. I involuntarily shivered as my own arousal grew feeling her delicate touch and the soft scratch of her nails as she continued her exploration down my chest.

Licking her lips in anticipation, her hands continued down until she reached my rock hard erection. Wrapping her fingers around it, she looked in my eyes letting a small sigh escape her lips. I could tell that there was excitement, and a little disappointment in her eyes as she let go.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

To most people I appear shy in public, although friendly and caring. What most people don’t know is that hidden behind the quiet exterior is a sex addict. I can’t get enough of it! Some days I cannot stop thinking about my cock. Maybe I’m not totally obsessed with it but at least twenty times a day I do think about my cock. I think about what it looks like, what it feels like between my legs, in my briefs or in my boxers. I think about even more how it feels when I get to stroke it. I have been masturbating for most of my life and for as long as I can remember I have been jacking off at least once every day if not more.

Now, as a happily married guy for over 28 years I still have to admit to enjoying some of my most intense orgasms solo. I still usually do it a minimum of four or five times a week; on good weeks almost daily. I don’t think my wife has any problems with my masturbating, but it’s something we’ve never talked about. Although for several years while the kids were still at home it was difficult to find enough privacy for a good, intense masturbation session, it has always continued to be a wonderful part of my sex life. Nowadays I am able to look forward to those times and plan more on how to have a great time with my cock!

Though I’ve actually never kept a true diary on my masturbatory exploits, I thought I’d reminisce a bit and share just how important masturbation has always been to me…

My boner had not totally shrunk away by the time I got to my car. I was still totally horny with an almost electric charge in my body. As I backed out of the driveway I’d wished I had finished what I had started that morning. I should have never sat and read all those hot Lit stories and not taken care of myself before I left the house.

My erection was keeping itself known as it formed a nice bulge between my legs.

I had to try my best to ignore it, hoping it would go away before I got to work. And I thought it surely would have as I have a forty-five minute to an hour commute on a good day. On that day I had driven for twenty minutes before the traffic ground to a halt. As I sat there behind the wheel I soon heard on the car radio a five-car accident had occurred three miles down the highway and to expect serious delays until the accident was cleared.

So there I was stuck in traffic, slowly creeping forward every now and again, but not really getting anywhere. By this time each stop and start actually made my morning horniness worse and I instinctively pressed my legs together to try and quell the feeling. Of course, it only made me even more aroused. As we crept along, I continually had one hand or the other in my crotch, playing with my not unsurprisingly half hard manhood.

I drive a SUV so I sit higher up than some of the cars on either side of me. But even from my vantage point I couldn’t see what other drivers were doing below the tops of their steering wheels. So, I assumed they couldn’t see below mine. I found myself quickly coming around to a lingering sexy idea as I took a quick glance down at my bulging dress slacks. My hard-on was being contained in a limited space and just had to be released or repositioned.

Once again, we crept forward in the line of traffic.

I laughed at myself and actually whispered, güvenilir bahis “I can’t with all of these people around.” I simultaneously reiterated to my conscience that nobody would see. It’s not as if they anyone was paying attention anyway.

With another check of the traffic and keeping my eyes on the road, I loosened my belt and opened up my pants. I glanced down and although I was still fully covered by my underwear, I could see the outline of my hard cock. I took a deep breath, looked back out to the road and line of cars in front of me before I reached in and rubbed myself a few times.

I had the largest bulge ever in my briefs. I was so turned on and I couldn’t stand it! And I didn’t.

With the next full stop in the flow of traffic and my foot securely on the brake, I reached in further and with much difficulty finally was able to pull my manhood out. I slid my hand down over the bared tip and instantly felt a tingle go through my entire body.

The car in front of me moved forward and I came back to reality for a moment to ease up on the brake and to roll ahead several feet before we stopped once again. No sooner had my foot pressed fully on the brake than I took back hold of my erection. The feeling was truly wonderful. I began to squeeze harder and harder and I could see the tip of my penis get larger as I did. It swelled and the skin got shiny and almost purple staring up at me from my lap.

Man, did it feel good!

I stroked it gently, with just the tips of my fingers and glanced back down in time to see a rivulet of pre-cum leak from the little opening of my very hard cock. I breathed a little heavier as I continued to stroke myself. The traffic may have been slow going but it was so thrilling to play with my cock and think of what I was doing all the while wondering if anybody around me knew it.

What an erotic rush!

As I looked back out at the traffic I could see a few women in their cars around me and it was no problem to include them in my thoughts while playing with myself. With one hand on the wheel I wet the thumb and two fingers of the other and gently rubbed myself until I was almost on the verge of cumming, but I stopped somehow. I spent the next ten minutes squeezing and giving my cock hardly noticeable strokes until my balls seemed ready to burst. Pre-cum leaked out all over my fingers allowing me to fully slick up the full mushroom head of my manhood. Now it was truly shining, as that one watery eye looked up at me.

As I continued to slowly stroke myself we crept forward little by little still in the traffic jam. It was exciting to be playing with myself knowing that at any moment somebody, maybe a cute female in a bigger vehicle could pass by and check me out. Actually, I probably would have swerved off the shoulder in embarrassment had that happened. But then again the feelings were so great I more likely may have been in no position to stop what I was doing.

That was when I looked out my driver’s side window. And there she was! The beautiful woman I had been hoping to roll up beside me to provide the added inspiration I wanted. She was in an open top red convertible. How much more could my wish have come true? Well, how about just how beautiful she was! Her long dark brown türkçe bahis hair blew back in the breeze of the morning and her dress bared her shoulders providing a generous amount of tanned skin to tantalize me with. I even found myself easing up in my seat to look further into her car. My heart raced and my cock pulsed in my hand when I saw the dress she wore was also a short one. From my angle I could see a mostly bared left thigh of my brunette beauty.

In this position, my cock head rubbed the lower part of the steering wheel. I looked down and saw I had smeared a generous amount of pre-cum across the leather. When I eased slowly back down in my seat I remained connected through a thin line of clear pre-cum. I grinned as I played another funny in my mind about my cock taking over the driving chores for a few minutes. It was driving me at the moment!

I thought of my beautiful commuting buddy again and stole another quick glance at her before looking back at the road ahead. Luckily it was quick as I nearly ran up the bumper of the tiny compact car in front of me. I grabbed the steering wheel and with both hands gripping tightly I slammed on my brakes.

First I looked down and saw the pre-cum connection to my steering wheel had been broken. Although my hard-on had not been affected as it still remained as hard as ever and even continued to drool out the tiny little hole.

When I returned my eyes back to my left I realized my hot brunette fantasy had drawn up even with me when we both had stopped. This time though she looked up and bright smiled emerged from under her sunglasses. I found my erection standing straight and tall when I put my hand back around it as my eyes remained fixed on her. I started stroking while she still looked up at me. I knew she couldn’t see anything below my window, however, I wasn’t sure what she could see on my face. I could feel my heart was pounding away as I glanced over into her car.

I could see well enough that she blushed before she looked away. But to my joy she looked back at me, giggling.

I was so turned on I could have cum right then, but I let go of my hard cock. As much as I wanted to cum so badly I also wanted this to last. It just felt so very good.

I put an arm over the steering wheel and rested my chin on my forearm, looking very nonchalant as I began slowly stroking myself once more. I knew the woman was still looking at me from time to time, but she couldn’t see my cock, she could however see my face. I did everything I could to keep a straight face not wanting to get caught, when I thought about that possibility though it only turned me on even more. My heart raced even faster as I glanced over into her car and my balls tingled. I knew I had to cum.

When I looked back at her she was making a sign this time, putting her head onto her hand and laughing. I figured she must have thought I was nodding off rather than doing what I was really doing. I shook my head and grinned at her letting her know I was okay, even though I knew I was actually ready to burst as I found myself stroking a hard pre-cum slicked cock for her.

She looked away for only a second before to my joy she looked back at me, giggling again.

That smile was so amazingly sexy.

Although güvenilir bahis siteleri I had tried to go slow in order to enjoy the fabulous sensations I shortly reached the point of no return and knew I was going to cum finally. But my options for not making a big mess were few. I could cum all over my hands and pants and arrive at work in an embarrassing mess or I could pull over, feigning a car problem then jack off in safety and comfort on the shoulder of the highway.

The latter option abruptly became unavailable as the traffic stopped and I was in the middle lane. No way to get to the side of the road. My impending orgasm would not wait.

Still looking down at her, I tried to control my face, not knowing how successful I was. It may have been the sudden rough pull on my throbbing hard cock or the sight of her gorgeous smiling face again but I fell right over the edge. I leaned back in the seat and started to pump as if the world was to end in the next few seconds.

Then it happened.

Without me needing to stroke it again, I started to have one! I could feel the cum rise up and shoot out the head of my swollen cock. I stared my brunette commuting friend straight in the eye, well, in her cute sunglasses as I shot my hot semen and she had no clue. I had to do my best not to show it in my face. It was a powerful orgasm as it just kept coming. I had not taken a breath in several seconds and I inhaled deeply as I squeezed my cock hard. I could feel every ridge and every elevated pulse as the cum dripped over my hand and down my stiff cock.

All the frustration of the morning commute was gone as I opened my eyes and looked back out my driver’s side window.

I found my sexy brunette friend had pulled forward leaving me alone with cum dripping down over my fist.

As I looked back down I also became aware of the true volume of semen my climax had produced. It was all over the steering wheel. It dripped down over the front edge of the seat, where between my dress shoes on the floor mat it had already begun to form little whitish puddles. I smiled even wider when I saw my cock had shot off with enough intensity to land one nice white stripe between the ’80’ and 100′ mile per hour marks on my speedometer.

The real good news was I didn’t see any on my dress pants or shirt.

At that point I remembered I had my sports bag on the back seat and there was a towel in it. As I reached back and grabbed the towel I noticed my brunette girl was back beside me. I looked down and saw her give me a wry smile and a shrug of those bare shoulders. I shrugged back wondering if she had indeed seen my cock let alone all my cum shoot up out of it.

Had I lifted my hips a little too high in my orgasmic pleasure?

I looked up and saw my face in the mirror. I was the one totally blushing now.

‘Honk!’ The car behind me blew an impatient horn.

I needed to move forward with traffic. As I did I worked to get my pants zipped back up as I pressed the accelerator and then the brake again.

I looked in my rear view mirror once more and saw a smile on my face that honestly reflected back I’d just had one of the best self-orgasms ever. And when I looked one last time back at my fantasy inspiring woman I saw her giggling and waving as she pulled on ahead.

I wonder if I’m the only horny guy that has found the great new pastime…getting off on commuting! As that was not the last time I’ve had a wonderful cum in my car on the way to or home from work.

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