‘From small acorns, grow large Oaks’, or how about, ‘Sowing seeds of despair’.
Sounds like an opening line from ‘Gardeners World’, but there is an earthiness about this problem I have had since my c***dhood, and it is mired with sex.
‘Self abuse’, my old priest once said during a confession, ‘You were the man in my dream Father’, that small statement from a girl of eight, spoke volumes of the woman about to emerge from her first decade on this earth, I had confessed about my masturbatory habits to a supposedly celibate man, not that I was truly ‘Dipping my Fingers’ or ‘Polishing my Pearl’, it was the reaction I wanted, that was my thing, shocking my sex object, that’s what tipped me over the edge, and it continued into my teens, and does so today, in my adulthood.
Hearing a female confess to things sexual, titillates men, that’s why I write my perversions and fantasies on here for you to read, can you image your phone ringing and it’s me, ‘What would you ask me, if were willing to answer truthfully’?
I was the girl, amongst the row of female bottoms, ‘Mooning’, on the motorway from the Bedford Van, heading South, they showed their bottoms, I was the girl who’s panties were lower, reaching behind and pulling my cheeks and Labia open, revealing more than my Gluttonous Maxi, I was serious about letting men see more, getting off on the shocked expressions of the occupants we were flashing.
Too much of anything is not good for you, be it, food, alcohol, d**gs, and in my case, fantasy sex.
That very first phone call
It was a Sunday evening and I had retired to bed early, I was bored and had been watching a movie on my iPad. I speed dialled a girlfriend and a man’s voice answered.
‘Can I speak to Sam (Samantha) I asked politely, it’s Emma’?
‘She’s gone out with some black guy’, he replied, with a small chuckle, I never quite really knew Sam’s f****y as I assumed it was her dad.
I joined in with a laugh of my own, then he said more seriously, ‘She really has gone out Emma, and left her phone, that’s why I’m answering it’.
My heart sank, a mixture of loneliness and jealousy swept over me, then his voice came back, ‘Where are you Emma’, he was calling me by my name, it sounded nice and personal?
‘I’m in bed’, I replied, thinking nothing about saying such a thing, my mind was already at ease, thinking this man was my friends father.
‘I am too’, he retorted, ‘fancy that, an old man and a beautiful teenage girl in bed together at the same time’?
‘We’re not together’, I hastily interjected, and he laughed.
‘Technically we are though’, he came back, his play on the word ‘technically’, bore some truth.
‘Technically then we are’, I conceded, ‘enjoy the experience’, I added, and when I said it, the retaliation I was in conversation with a grown man, in my bed, stirred something of old deep inside me.
‘What would Sam say if she walked in and saw us in bed together’, he queried?
I was silent, my free hand was delving down the front of my panties, I knew this call could easily turn into something sexual, he was working it around, all it needed was for me to string along, my fingers slipped between my labia, I was already wet.
‘You still there Emma’?
‘Yes’, I replied, my voice sounded different, even to my own ears, ‘I was just thinking’, I added.
‘About me lying here naked and touching myself’, he teased.
‘What’, His words were like a bolt of lightening, as my finger bruised my clitoris, I had started to slowly masturbate, I was getting into this and starting to get off to it at the same time.
‘Are you shocked your turning on an old man’, he laughed, making light of what was descending into a dirty phone call?
‘I am more surprised by myself’, I retorted with honesty.
there was a moments ‘Pregnant Pause’, that defining moment when you both realise you are doing something you should not be doing, but enjoying it, so when he asked me, ‘Are you as wet as I am hard for you’?
‘Hard for me’, his words reverberated back and forth in my head. I felt weak, and m body trembled, as the sexual innuendo and the visual imagery of this stranger doing it to my voice stuck home.
My fingers were dipping in and out of my pussy, ‘Yes’, I said breathlessly, ‘I think I am’, I struggle to get my words out, I was sure he knew I was masturbating, my breathing rhythm and interjections, would have made that clear to an experienced man, ‘You’re wet for me’, I heard his words, not taking them in, ‘Yes’, I cried, I was close.
‘Stop’, he cried, ‘Emma, Stop’, he continued.
My heart was pounding, I had openly admitted to this man I was masturbating because of him, he had made me wet, I was admitting I was sexually wanting him, and the reaction I felt was incredible.
Confessions and honesty, now I understood the old priest and forgave him for masturbating to my confession, something I saw in the small wooden grill he left open for my small eyes to see him.
‘What’, I asked breathlessly, ‘Let me see you, turn on the video on your cam’.
The missing dimension, of course, why did I not think about that, why close your eyes and have imaginative visual imagery, when your camera could give you live imagery.
‘OMFG’, he remarked as my camera scanned my breasts, down over my flat stomach, and rested between my open bent thighs. He obviously like what I was showing, not that it mattered as I was delving in and out of my pussy, he could see that, and hear the wetness of my indulgence.
I was cumming, and it was going to be explosive, a screamer, like old, and I went for it, went overboard, and it left me a wreck, and when my mind returned, to my shock, I was looking into my camera, he could see my face, and I panicked.
I had to wipe my fingers on my bedsheet, my body ached and my heart was in palpitating mode. I had really got of on this but felt sick once the lusting had subsided, he knew who I was and I was still in the dark about him.
‘Can I see you’, I asked him, that’s when I got the incoming call message, ‘Sam calling’.
I was confused, and suddenly embarrassed and frightened. Did she know, had she caught her father and me?
I pressed the answer button and she was calm and just Sam, ‘How are you’, she asked, her beautiful face showing no signs of recent shock?
‘Where are you’, I asked her frantically?
‘Home’, she replied.
She must have saw the confusion in my facial features. ‘What’s up’, she retorted?
‘I was just talking to your dad’, I answered, my voice tapering off, as the reality of the possibility I had not been, was sinking in.
‘My dad’, Sam came back with a puzzled look, ‘my Dad died years before I knew you’.
As Sam’s word sunk in, I let the phone drop from my ear and rest on my chest.
Sam shrieked, ‘Em, your fucking naked’.
I told her the story and she listened intently, before saying, ‘So you don’t have a problem masturbating with my dead dad’. Together we laughed it off.
The next morning I had a text on my phone with a short clip attached.
‘Want to meet you, we have unfinished business’
That, as they say, is another story.
Any comments appreciated, only after the story, thanks and love Emma.