Her education at Gracely House unleashed desires that Gwen had never known.
Shortly after returning home to Markham Hall, she felt alone and increasingly horny.
She tried to satisfy herself with her fingers in bed or in the woods, but that was only a temporary solution. Her desire for the hard thrusting of a man between her legs was growing.
Thus it was with surging hormones and above-average curiosity that she knocked at her mother's bedroom door. "Come to my room at 10 o'clock," Mrs. Markham said at breakfast that morning. "I'll be waiting for you."
Gwen knocked, uncertain what awaited.
She heard her mother's voice. "Come in."
Turning the knob and pushing inward, she could see nothing. She closed the door and stepped fully into the room. As she did, the first thing she saw wasn't her mother; it was her brother Thad, two years her senior.
He stood facing her, completely naked. His prick stood up proudly and was so red that it had obviously been stimulated just before she arrived.
Summer sun had arrived and that meant it was time for our summer break from school. We'd take it in turns, me and Jamie, to sleep over at each other's houses during the summer recess. I particularly liked staying at his house because I secretly had a major crush on his mom.
She was about 30 or 35 I think, had a small cute body, always wore tight clingy clothing, and had a gorgeous pair of tits, but they were firm and would jiggle whenever she moved. She made my cock twitch constantly, at 14 pretty much anything of the female persuasion made my cock twitch!
During summer break we'd stay at each other's house for a week at a time, this week we were at Jamie's house. It was Tuesday, about 9pm in the evening and I was going to have a bath before going to bed, Jamie was feeling slightly sick so his mum gave him some medicine and sent him off to his bed early, and he was out like a light.
Karen. My cousin. Sweet flesh of my flesh. She has entered my dreams so often, I smell her in the soft folds of her slips and the humid little panties I snatch from her laundry. She is beautiful in a way that defies my understanding. Desirable and magnetic beyond my will to resist her. Tiny and bright like a bird.
I've watched her, through half closed eyes, move naked through a morning bedroom. A little boy with an itchy bone struggling against a starched cotton sheet. I've watched as she dressed in the grey, dim, morning light. The entire spectacle. Her lush, heart-shaped ass packed into a tight white panties. Dark nylons slipped over a pointed toe and soothed up a slim calf. Flesh peeking from lace. The dark of her nipples huge in a straining bra.
Mike had been itchy all evening, Rachael could tell. He'd been rubbing his hands across her shoulders, down her arms, and across her ass, bumping up against her as they moved from one crowded room to another, and slipping his hand halfway up the inside of her thigh whenever he thought he wouldn't be caught.
It wasn't ordinary horniness, she knew. They had taken care of that earlier while showering before they dressed for the party. It was definitely something else. And she knew just what he needed to scratch that itch.
Joe had been a janitor at Wickman School For Girls for about three years, and while the pay wasn't the greatest, being a young single guy he didn't have many needs. Besides, the scenery at the school was nothing short of spectacular! The little bitches that attended the exclusive private school never even gave him a second glance. As far as they were concerned he didn't even exist, but that was okay with him because it gave him the perfect cover for his one and only hobby; trying to see these little sluts with their panties down!
There were really only three places that Joe knew the girls got naked at, in their own dorm rooms, in the bathroom showers, and in the main gym locker room showers. After careful evaluation, Joe soon figured out that the gym shower was by far the best place to make his attempt, as all of the girls would be totally nude. The bathrooms had stalls and the girls wouldn't be totally disrobed, and it would be almost impossible to see much in the dorm rooms, and it would be much too risky for the limited rewards.
Women who are compulsive masturbators fascinate me. I think it began with an experience I had over ten years ago.
I used to live on the northern coast of California and I often visited the nude beaches of Humboldt County. On one late spring day I went to a place called College Cove near Trinidad.
I got off work at three in the afternoon and headed straight for the beach. As I headed down the trail from the parking lot I passed many people who were leaving but there were still a few folks on the beach including a couple of old friends whom I hadn't seen for a while.
The echo, the plea in my wife's voice, the insistent growl of her eager submission, those words excited me hard, almost terrifying me as they cut my soul. I loosened my grip, letting Andrea's dark-golden locks slip from the hard knot of my fingers. She moaned low, with a melted wanton glare in her big brown eyes. I turned to look out the window. A dim reflection stared back at me.
"Is he out there?" I asked softly.
"Who?" Andrea asked, suddenly nervous.
"You're mine," I said, tightening my grip on her hair again, drawing her head back. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed.
"Fuck me," she purred.