My story
This is my story - it’s all true, and it isn’t ‘porn’, so most people probably won’t read it, but this is the only place I can publish it, as no-one here judges other people on their differences - and some of the details are much too ‘hot’ to appear anywhere but on a porn site.
I was inspired to write it following a discussion I had with a friend on this site. He knows who he is. If you have read any of my other stories published here (please do), you will recognise some of the themes. Those stories are porn fiction, based on my life; here the events are related pretty much how they happened to me.
Some of it might seem like mistreatment or even abuse; maybe it was, it almost certainly affected me psychologically (as you will see), but none of my kinks or perversions have caused me any unhappiness, nor have they caused me to inflict my tastes on anyone else. I’m a contented weirdo.
Let’s face it, I’m a British white male, product of the English education system in an all-boys’ school; there would be something wrong with me if I wasn’t a pervert!
I’ll start with my longest-lasting sexual obsession - my mother. That’s right, straight into my oedipus complex, which is defined as:
“The unresolved desire of a ch11d for sexual gratification through the parent of the opposite sex, especially the desire of a son for his mother. This involves, first, identification with and, later, hatred for the parent of the same sex, who is considered by the ch11d as a rival.”
You got it, I wanted to fuck my mummy and murder my daddy…not really, but I realised later in life that my interest in brunettes was an unc0nc10us desire for a girl like mum. I don’t suppose she meant to give me any hangups, but as a toddler I would sneak into her bed after my dad had gone to work. When she got up she would get dressed, unconcerned that I was watching her and drinking in her beauty with my young eyes.
I would be lying there, wide awake, revelling in the vision that was my mother as she took off her night clothes and groomed herself before leisurely dressing.
In her mid-twenties, her figure full, with wide hips and round firm breasts (she had bottle fed me, much to my later dismay!); she was very beautiful. Thick dark hair hung loose to her shoulders, echoed by the glossy triangle between her firm thighs. Her brown nipples, surrounded by dark areolae, fascinated me as they stood hard on cold mornings. As she lifted her hands to brush her hair, I could glimpse the dark tufts under her arms.
She would first put on a suspender belt followed by the nylon stockings she always wore, the white straps framing her luscious cunt, then she clipped the suspenders to the stocking tops. Next came her bra, hiding her gorgeous breasts; and finally she would step into her pants and cover her cunt and voluptuous arse.
As I got older, I always told her I wanted to marry her when I grew up. Do all boys say this? Maybe; I don’t know. But I meant it!
Just as she wasn’t embarrassed to be seen naked, so I was happy to trot about in the buff, and we would be happy to go in and out of the bathroom without locking the door, even when using the toilet. When she bathed me, she was fascinated by my tiny ‘winkie’ as she called it, and would spend ages making it go hard and watching me twitching it in the water. I don’t know what was going on, I don’t think she had bad intentions, I think she was just naive - as I said, it did me no harm, at least, it has never made me unhappy - and I look back at those bath times fondly.
Slightly more sinister was her stepmother, my ‘aunt’ who also had a fascination with my tiny cock, which she used to play with and even ‘kiss’, by which she meant take me into her mouth and roll me round with her tongue until I became hard. She would also put vaseline on my arsehole and put her fingers and small objects in, fucking me gently as she sucked my cock. Not much doubt that that has fucked me up a little bit, but I have to keep stressing, I’ve never been unhappy about it.
On a few occasions, my ‘aunt’ would even share me with friends - other women in their fifties and sixties - who would play with my cock and finger my arse. Pretty sick when you look at it, but hey! I survived.
Okay, back to mummy. You wouldn’t think it to see me now, but I was an attractive c***d: thick blonde hair, blue eyes and a soft face. I was slightly built - I didn’t ‘fill out’ until well into my twenties. Mum and her friends used to comment on my appearance, saying things like a girl would love to have my eyelashes or how lovely my hair was. When we were alone, mum used to brush my hair and spend ages just gazing at me. One day, she suggested that, as I looked so much like a girl, she should put make up on me. Always happy to be the centre of attention, I let her paint my lips bright red, apply a little blue eyeshadow and even a touch of blusher. I looked bizarre, but I loved the effect.
Then she told me to take off my clothes, which I did without thinking; and she opened a small suitcase which contained some of her old clothes from when she was a girl. First, she put on me a white chiffon blouse which felt soft and delicate against my skin. I looked in the full length mirror and there, below the doll-like face which once was mine, and the loose blouse, I could see my skinny legs and my small cock, hard and sticking out under the blouse.
Making no comment, she then pulled on an old pair of white (now slightly yellowed) silk stockings which came up to my thighs. Again, I looked in the mirror and, if anything, my cock was harder than before. I could see my reflection in the dressing table mirror behind me, and my pert little bottom was round and pink between the blouse and stockings.
Finally, she wrapped a tartan skirt around my narrow waist - it was a little too big, but she cinched it with a belt and it looked OK. I stepped into a pair of low-heeled black shoes which were several sizes too large and I was done! A schoolgirl with the face of a harlot and no underwear!
I twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt flaring around my silk-clad thighs and slightly rough against the sensitive (circumcised) end of my still-erect cock., She laughed with pleasure and called me her little girl. I beamed with delight, loving both the attention and the nascent erotic feeling of the clothes against me.
Eventually, she undressed me, putting away the precious clothes, and bathed me to remove the paint from my face. She washed me all over as I lay in the bath, and paid special attention to my tiny cock which had been so prominent earlier.
After that, she would often dress me up, usually with makeup, but sometimes she would just wrap me in silk scarves or lengths of sheer cloth (she was a prolific dressmaker), I would be swathed as if in a sari or toga, and always, I would be completely naked under the exquisite materials.
This went on for many years and I loved it - and her for making me feel so good. I would also get many opportunities to see her beautiful body. If she was making a new dress for herself, she would call me for an opinion and I would go into her room and find her undressed, in the act of pulling a sheer shift over her head or pulling on a skirt. I suppose these must have been staged for my benefit because I always managed to see her cunt or tits, but then again, nudity was never an issue, so maybe I’m imagining it all.
On one memorable occasion, as I opened the door, I saw her sitting on a low stool next to her dressmaking dummy, pins in her mouth as she raised the hem of a skirt. She was naked from the waist down, obviously having removed the skirt to work on it, and her legs were wide apart. I was able to see the damp red entrance to her vagina between the dark hairy labia. I stared for a while until she became aware of my silence, and spoke. I jumped slightly, our eyes met, and she gave me a big smile before asking me to pass her something from the table. The mood was broken, but I felt as if I’d had a glimpse of paradise.
…
Where we lived, there were a lot of ch11dren, many my age. But, although there were many boys, I always opted to play with the girls, much to my father’s disgust. He even suggested I should dress in a gym slip and blue knickers if I was so keen to play with the girls. He had been less than pleased when I had requested a doll and pram for Christmas and I had not received it. I’m not sure how much better he would have felt if he’d know that a lot of the play involved doctors and nurses and other similar games with resulted in the removal of garments and the inspection of genitals.
I can probably remember every single time I got to see a cunt in those blissful days. Admittedly, that’s because there weren’t that many, but it’s more about the stunning effect each sighting and the circumstances were. I’m not going to list them all here, instead, I’m going to talk about the next great sexual obsession in my life, a girl a few years older than me called Beverly.
Beverly lived on a farm with two older brothers, who, I’m sure, had been sexually interested in her; but were now too old to bother. This left her looking for a substitute, and that was me. We played many variations of games that necessitated total or partial nudity, as we were both always keen to get a look at, and a lot more, each other’s private parts.
I think she probably found my young cock a bit disappointing, after all, she would have had many experiences with the hairy monsters her brothers no doubt possessed. Then again, I imagine she found mine a lot less threatening. She certainly made the best of what there was, tickling, probing, licking and sucking…happy, happy times. Nor was she shy, her cunt was devoid of mystery to me, I inspected it thoroughly on many occasions, both inside and out. I even drew pictures of it, carefully delineating the juvenile folds and hood.
As an added bonus, her breasts had started to develop - she was skinny, with a boylike figure, but there was no doubt she had tits, and, moreover, was happy for me to suck and knead them to my heart’s content - something I had never been able to do with my mother.
As I grew older, Beverly would conduct regular inspections of my cock and started to wank me, so far without any result. Her cunt grew a wispy covering and her tits got bigger. I loved her tits but I realised I preferred her cunt hairless - even though I was mesmerised by my mother’s hairy cunt, the pretty pink cunts I had been allowed to discover in my playmates’ knickers became the ideal for me. I have preferred a perfect, pink, hairless cunt, with no protruding lips or hood ever since. The fashion for shaving which began in the 1980s was a godsend for me, I suspect it was driven by the desires of many men like me who had nostalgia for the first cunts they saw.
Anyway, not deterred by Beverly’s inability to make me cum by wanking me, I practised very hard when I was alone, and, eventually, with success. I eagerly showed her my prowess and we spent many happy times with her fingers round my cock, making me spurt sticky goo all over her legs as she knelt before me.
Just as she maintained an interest in my cock, I continued to explore her body, and I was fascinated to discover that, if I put my fingers in her cunt, it would now get very wet and she would be inclined to clamp her thighs onto my wrist. One day. as she was wanking me, and I was stroking her cunt, she began to push hard against my hand, releasing her grip on my cock, closing her eyes and then squealing in a long low way, soaking my hand with her cunt juices in the process.
This was how I learned that it wasn’t just boys that could cum with stimulation - and the funny thing is, it was how she learned, too. It was her first orgasm! She enjoyed the stimulation and had played with herself, but, until now, had always failed to get all the way. We were both thrilled and now, with two toys to play with, we would make sure we both came whenever we got the opportunity. I’d like to say we then started fucking, but sadly we didn’t. It was a long time before I fucked a girl, and it wasn’t Beverly, I’m sorry to say.
…
My Story continues in Part Two here: http://xhamster.com/posts/888867
I was inspired to write it following a discussion I had with a friend on this site. He knows who he is. If you have read any of my other stories published here (please do), you will recognise some of the themes. Those stories are porn fiction, based on my life; here the events are related pretty much how they happened to me.
Some of it might seem like mistreatment or even abuse; maybe it was, it almost certainly affected me psychologically (as you will see), but none of my kinks or perversions have caused me any unhappiness, nor have they caused me to inflict my tastes on anyone else. I’m a contented weirdo.
Let’s face it, I’m a British white male, product of the English education system in an all-boys’ school; there would be something wrong with me if I wasn’t a pervert!
I’ll start with my longest-lasting sexual obsession - my mother. That’s right, straight into my oedipus complex, which is defined as:
“The unresolved desire of a ch11d for sexual gratification through the parent of the opposite sex, especially the desire of a son for his mother. This involves, first, identification with and, later, hatred for the parent of the same sex, who is considered by the ch11d as a rival.”
You got it, I wanted to fuck my mummy and murder my daddy…not really, but I realised later in life that my interest in brunettes was an unc0nc10us desire for a girl like mum. I don’t suppose she meant to give me any hangups, but as a toddler I would sneak into her bed after my dad had gone to work. When she got up she would get dressed, unconcerned that I was watching her and drinking in her beauty with my young eyes.
I would be lying there, wide awake, revelling in the vision that was my mother as she took off her night clothes and groomed herself before leisurely dressing.
In her mid-twenties, her figure full, with wide hips and round firm breasts (she had bottle fed me, much to my later dismay!); she was very beautiful. Thick dark hair hung loose to her shoulders, echoed by the glossy triangle between her firm thighs. Her brown nipples, surrounded by dark areolae, fascinated me as they stood hard on cold mornings. As she lifted her hands to brush her hair, I could glimpse the dark tufts under her arms.
She would first put on a suspender belt followed by the nylon stockings she always wore, the white straps framing her luscious cunt, then she clipped the suspenders to the stocking tops. Next came her bra, hiding her gorgeous breasts; and finally she would step into her pants and cover her cunt and voluptuous arse.
As I got older, I always told her I wanted to marry her when I grew up. Do all boys say this? Maybe; I don’t know. But I meant it!
Just as she wasn’t embarrassed to be seen naked, so I was happy to trot about in the buff, and we would be happy to go in and out of the bathroom without locking the door, even when using the toilet. When she bathed me, she was fascinated by my tiny ‘winkie’ as she called it, and would spend ages making it go hard and watching me twitching it in the water. I don’t know what was going on, I don’t think she had bad intentions, I think she was just naive - as I said, it did me no harm, at least, it has never made me unhappy - and I look back at those bath times fondly.
Slightly more sinister was her stepmother, my ‘aunt’ who also had a fascination with my tiny cock, which she used to play with and even ‘kiss’, by which she meant take me into her mouth and roll me round with her tongue until I became hard. She would also put vaseline on my arsehole and put her fingers and small objects in, fucking me gently as she sucked my cock. Not much doubt that that has fucked me up a little bit, but I have to keep stressing, I’ve never been unhappy about it.
On a few occasions, my ‘aunt’ would even share me with friends - other women in their fifties and sixties - who would play with my cock and finger my arse. Pretty sick when you look at it, but hey! I survived.
Okay, back to mummy. You wouldn’t think it to see me now, but I was an attractive c***d: thick blonde hair, blue eyes and a soft face. I was slightly built - I didn’t ‘fill out’ until well into my twenties. Mum and her friends used to comment on my appearance, saying things like a girl would love to have my eyelashes or how lovely my hair was. When we were alone, mum used to brush my hair and spend ages just gazing at me. One day, she suggested that, as I looked so much like a girl, she should put make up on me. Always happy to be the centre of attention, I let her paint my lips bright red, apply a little blue eyeshadow and even a touch of blusher. I looked bizarre, but I loved the effect.
Then she told me to take off my clothes, which I did without thinking; and she opened a small suitcase which contained some of her old clothes from when she was a girl. First, she put on me a white chiffon blouse which felt soft and delicate against my skin. I looked in the full length mirror and there, below the doll-like face which once was mine, and the loose blouse, I could see my skinny legs and my small cock, hard and sticking out under the blouse.
Making no comment, she then pulled on an old pair of white (now slightly yellowed) silk stockings which came up to my thighs. Again, I looked in the mirror and, if anything, my cock was harder than before. I could see my reflection in the dressing table mirror behind me, and my pert little bottom was round and pink between the blouse and stockings.
Finally, she wrapped a tartan skirt around my narrow waist - it was a little too big, but she cinched it with a belt and it looked OK. I stepped into a pair of low-heeled black shoes which were several sizes too large and I was done! A schoolgirl with the face of a harlot and no underwear!
I twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt flaring around my silk-clad thighs and slightly rough against the sensitive (circumcised) end of my still-erect cock., She laughed with pleasure and called me her little girl. I beamed with delight, loving both the attention and the nascent erotic feeling of the clothes against me.
Eventually, she undressed me, putting away the precious clothes, and bathed me to remove the paint from my face. She washed me all over as I lay in the bath, and paid special attention to my tiny cock which had been so prominent earlier.
After that, she would often dress me up, usually with makeup, but sometimes she would just wrap me in silk scarves or lengths of sheer cloth (she was a prolific dressmaker), I would be swathed as if in a sari or toga, and always, I would be completely naked under the exquisite materials.
This went on for many years and I loved it - and her for making me feel so good. I would also get many opportunities to see her beautiful body. If she was making a new dress for herself, she would call me for an opinion and I would go into her room and find her undressed, in the act of pulling a sheer shift over her head or pulling on a skirt. I suppose these must have been staged for my benefit because I always managed to see her cunt or tits, but then again, nudity was never an issue, so maybe I’m imagining it all.
On one memorable occasion, as I opened the door, I saw her sitting on a low stool next to her dressmaking dummy, pins in her mouth as she raised the hem of a skirt. She was naked from the waist down, obviously having removed the skirt to work on it, and her legs were wide apart. I was able to see the damp red entrance to her vagina between the dark hairy labia. I stared for a while until she became aware of my silence, and spoke. I jumped slightly, our eyes met, and she gave me a big smile before asking me to pass her something from the table. The mood was broken, but I felt as if I’d had a glimpse of paradise.
…
Where we lived, there were a lot of ch11dren, many my age. But, although there were many boys, I always opted to play with the girls, much to my father’s disgust. He even suggested I should dress in a gym slip and blue knickers if I was so keen to play with the girls. He had been less than pleased when I had requested a doll and pram for Christmas and I had not received it. I’m not sure how much better he would have felt if he’d know that a lot of the play involved doctors and nurses and other similar games with resulted in the removal of garments and the inspection of genitals.
I can probably remember every single time I got to see a cunt in those blissful days. Admittedly, that’s because there weren’t that many, but it’s more about the stunning effect each sighting and the circumstances were. I’m not going to list them all here, instead, I’m going to talk about the next great sexual obsession in my life, a girl a few years older than me called Beverly.
Beverly lived on a farm with two older brothers, who, I’m sure, had been sexually interested in her; but were now too old to bother. This left her looking for a substitute, and that was me. We played many variations of games that necessitated total or partial nudity, as we were both always keen to get a look at, and a lot more, each other’s private parts.
I think she probably found my young cock a bit disappointing, after all, she would have had many experiences with the hairy monsters her brothers no doubt possessed. Then again, I imagine she found mine a lot less threatening. She certainly made the best of what there was, tickling, probing, licking and sucking…happy, happy times. Nor was she shy, her cunt was devoid of mystery to me, I inspected it thoroughly on many occasions, both inside and out. I even drew pictures of it, carefully delineating the juvenile folds and hood.
As an added bonus, her breasts had started to develop - she was skinny, with a boylike figure, but there was no doubt she had tits, and, moreover, was happy for me to suck and knead them to my heart’s content - something I had never been able to do with my mother.
As I grew older, Beverly would conduct regular inspections of my cock and started to wank me, so far without any result. Her cunt grew a wispy covering and her tits got bigger. I loved her tits but I realised I preferred her cunt hairless - even though I was mesmerised by my mother’s hairy cunt, the pretty pink cunts I had been allowed to discover in my playmates’ knickers became the ideal for me. I have preferred a perfect, pink, hairless cunt, with no protruding lips or hood ever since. The fashion for shaving which began in the 1980s was a godsend for me, I suspect it was driven by the desires of many men like me who had nostalgia for the first cunts they saw.
Anyway, not deterred by Beverly’s inability to make me cum by wanking me, I practised very hard when I was alone, and, eventually, with success. I eagerly showed her my prowess and we spent many happy times with her fingers round my cock, making me spurt sticky goo all over her legs as she knelt before me.
Just as she maintained an interest in my cock, I continued to explore her body, and I was fascinated to discover that, if I put my fingers in her cunt, it would now get very wet and she would be inclined to clamp her thighs onto my wrist. One day. as she was wanking me, and I was stroking her cunt, she began to push hard against my hand, releasing her grip on my cock, closing her eyes and then squealing in a long low way, soaking my hand with her cunt juices in the process.
This was how I learned that it wasn’t just boys that could cum with stimulation - and the funny thing is, it was how she learned, too. It was her first orgasm! She enjoyed the stimulation and had played with herself, but, until now, had always failed to get all the way. We were both thrilled and now, with two toys to play with, we would make sure we both came whenever we got the opportunity. I’d like to say we then started fucking, but sadly we didn’t. It was a long time before I fucked a girl, and it wasn’t Beverly, I’m sorry to say.
…
My Story continues in Part Two here: http://xhamster.com/posts/888867
há 5 anos
