The Rich Palette of Sex

He is trying so hard not to be obvious. Look, he’s sitting there with his coffee and newspaper trying desperately to convince me….us….that he is unconcerned to have two girls sitting cross legged only a few yards away. We have out colas and are chatting away, but while my friend is still mostly covered, with her kilt over he knees, mine is half way up my thighs. I know, beyond doubt, that he can see my panties, and I also know beyond doubt that he can see they are stained.

Every girl has a ‘radar’…some kind of sixth sense that tells us when we are being stared at. I’m chatting away happily but every time I dart a glance at him, his eyes quickly flick away back down to his newspaper….a paper of which he hasn’t turned a page in the last half an hour. 

Inwardly, I smile to myself. It may be arrogance, but I’ll bet anything you like he will either go for a wank somewhere, or, later, when he is fucking his wife, he’ll be thinking of my crotch…my panties stained with my wetness and wondering….always wondering! 

Anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac. 

And for me too. That afternoon, when I finally got home, I lay on my bedroom floor and masturbated furiously imagining what he was doing…or would do with his wife….or would do to me. 

And, there was the passionate kissing with my first boyfriend. Deep, sensuous with much use of tongues. He was aching to touch me…I was aching to touch him…..oh, but the delicacy of youth prevented that. I didn’t want him to think I was easy, and it’s surprising how many boys are actually quite insecure about a girl touching their cocks for the first time. So, we kissed. He got hard, I got wet, and we went our separate ways frustrated as all hell, and wanked away the stress in our own rooms.

But then there was the time, in my bed, when a sleepover become something more. To this day I can’t quite recall who moved her head first, her or me. We always used to give one another a quick peck on the cheek before we went to sleep, but this time, one of us moved and our lips touched. Touched once, twice, three times before lingering and becoming a full-on French kiss. I remember absolutely flooding my panties. I was so hopeful she would slip her hand down there, and yet at the same time fearful that she would, and find just how wet I was. Instead, her hand found my boob and mine hers. Thank God she said ‘Much more of this and I’ll have to cum in my panties’ before those same words escaped my lips. And so we lay next to one another, gently masturbating until she said “Touch my tits?” Well, she didn’t specify,, so I held one and kissed the other as she came softly into her undies. Then it was my turn to do the same. I absolutely ached for her fingers in me, or her tongue on my clit, but that would come later, much, much later. The anticipation was exquisite. 

Sometimes, especially in the spring and summer months, I might see students from the local school taking a shortcut through my woodland. Look….there's a girl now. About 16 or 17, I’d say. I wonder when she masturbated last. I wonder what she thinks about? I wonder how she likes to do herself….and the wondering makes me wet. Or than teenage boy, about 10 yards or so behind her. He has ear buds in and yet….is he looking at her bum as she walks? Is he mentally removing that skirt and imagining her in her bra and panties? I wonder how the girls tease the boys at that school? Towards the end of my school days, they admitted some boys…purely for the money, of course. Cash first, Catholicism second. We used to tease them mercilessly. Flashing our panties…giving them spontaneous erections….or maybe sometimes, quickly opening a shirt to “adjust” a bra and accidentally flashing some cleavage. Or once, Sonia, who never wore a bra (like me, mostly) once flashed her entire boob. She got caught doing so though…unfortunately. But even as she served the dreaded ‘scrubbing the Virgin’ punishment, she was thinking about the effect it had. 

And then there was Paul. Once, in the music room, Paul and I were alone. We were looking for the music for the recorder club and he had grabbed me from behind, cupping my boobs as he did so. He lifted my clean off the floor, pressing a rapidly growing cock against me as he spun me around a couple of times. By the time he put me down, I could clearly see the shape of his cock, and a coin-sized circle of wetness on his pants. Either pre-cum, or he had shot his load into his pants. Sexual assault? These days, undoubtedly, but I was thrilled to pieces! He had copped a feel, (I adore having my boobs held, and held firmly) and my body had made him cum in his pants. Did I rub one out over that? No. I rubbed several out over that, and still do from time to time. 

Miss Brain augments it for me too. I imagine instead of that fusty old kilt, I was wearing my PE skirt, a short, pleated dark green thing. Sometimes I imagine him taking his cock out and pushing it against my panties high up between my legs. Tantalizingly close to screwing me, and only that thin layer of cotton in the way. Almost, but not quite. Hmm…yes, ‘almost, but not quite’ can be so highly erotic. 

I am well aware, thanks to my wildlife cameras, that my woodland shelters serve as places for teenagers to go for sex…or whatever sexual groping they are ready for. Yes, the cameras are clearly advertised, but it doesn’t seem to bother them. Every week, I will clear condoms from sone or two of the shelters, and I have found the occasional pair of discarded panties. But one evening a pair of teenagers ducked into one of the shelters. The kissed for a while before he made a move for er left boob which she denied him. He tried again..she pushed him away. They say the third time is the charm, and this time she let his hand remain there. (Of course she wanted it there from the first time, but modesty demands she put up some small token resistance.) he unbuttoned her shirt…possibly the same one she wore to college that day, who knows? She turned away from him, but didn’t button herself up I noticed. Then his hand slipped under the shirt. 

The same dance occurred when he tried to slide his hand up her skirt. Token resistance followed by submission. The scene ended with her holding her skirt up by her elbows (a clever trick, and one most girls learn at some point) her legs spread and slightly bent at the knees, and his hand working furiously Jin her panties. At the same time, she was holding his cock, although was obviously way too close to her own orgasm to focus on wanking him rhythmically. I saw the moment she came, her entire body spamming in the camera. And I saw him, a little later, shooting his load onto the floor. 

I wonder how often both of them have masturbated imagining going all the way with one another? 

I hope it matches their expectations and hopes.

A few days ago, I made a purchase….an ultra-violet light, sometimes called a ‘black light’. I’m curious to see just how much semen covers the floors (and walls?) of my woodland shelters. Maybe I’ll go over certain areas of the house too….especially where my builders, and in particular the builder’s son worked while he was here. There’s also the couple who owned this place before me. 

Right now, I would love to sit here and rub one out into my panties, but I’m not going to. I feel like some deferred gratification, so I’m going to spend some time with Dani. We won’t talk about sex at all….but I shall spend the time teasing myself wondering if she masturbated last night or this morning…or both….how she did it, and what she thought about. Just lately, the thought that she has open access to my used panties and Emily’s has been driving me crazy for some reason. I’d love to think about her taking a pair or two to bed with her….maybe wearing one of them….her eyes closing with Desiree as a moist crotch touches her labia….or her smelling a cunt-juice stained crotch as she cooks up some fantasy in her mind. 

Then, sometimes this afternoon……