It rsquo s not easy being a wanker
- 3 years ago
- 49
- 0
Once A Wanker, Always A Wanker free porn video
A wanker isn’t someone who wanks – it’s a perv who only wanks – a perv like me. In the early days, I never thought about anything else. I certainly had no thoughts about ‘normal’ sex – the idea of putting my hands on a girl never entered my mind, and any thought of that was totally out of order, and I couldn’t imagine any girl liking that – not from me, but any bloke.
It was also that the mere sight of a girl caused enormous excitement, specially if I knew I was going to see a girl show, like on the telly, or in a miniskirt in the canteen. Every evening I’d be at my window watching for girls walking down the street, and when it was a girl I knew, that was extra special, spunking seeing Her for real rather than just thoughts about Her.
I didn’t give much thought to boys and girls going out, or hearing the lads boasting about the night before. I did form the impression that girls needed to be persuaded, and I remember being glad I didn’t have to do any of that. Not that it was easy seeing what I needed to see – I had to rely on ‘lucky views’, and all the time I spent at my window hoping for girls to walk by.
Discovering ‘dirty’ magazines made a big difference to my life, at an early age, and that’s been a key part of how I get sexual gratification for all my life. I’m SO grateful to girls that pose cause without them it’s doubtful I’d ever get to see what I need to see. It wasn’t until fairly recent times that I realised that some girls love to show, and enjoy that power to the extent that one or two of them would let a pervert mac-wanker like me see them pose.
Being a wanker does have its problems, at work particularly, and I had to make up a lot of fiction to avoid my dirty secret getting out, while at the same time wanting the girls I worshipped at work to gradually come to the conclusion that I was a perv who only wanked himself. At one time a whole office full of girls did come to that conclusion, as one girl I was obsessed with made me take greater risks than usual.
I’d walk past Her office a few times and when I couldn’t stand it anymore, go to the toilet next door and remove an already-erect willy which with a pull back on the foreskin spurted a load of spunk over the bog seat. Then back to gaze in Her office window again. So once when I did that and exited the toilet, two of the girls were there waiting – “did you enjoy that?!” they said pointedly, making me flush up and scurry off.
Eventually I couldn’t take any more and simply stopped and pressed up outside Her office, gawping at Her as the spunk rose and then my knees crumpling as spunk pumped into my underpants. That’s a wanker. A girl will drive me to extremes and there’s nothing I can do about it, I just have to cum in my pants with my eyes on Her. Not by spying, but by seeing Her when She’s showing what She’s happy for the world to see.
As a wanker I’m obsessed with seeing girls show, which after all is the only way I get my sex pleasure. That means if I see a mag, I have to have it. When I read in the Sport about Miss Debbie Quorel’s studio in Stoke on Trent, I had to go there, even though it was miles, and look at the photos in the catalogue the lady on reception had. I was hoping Miss Debbie might be there, even be in the middle of a photo-shoot and pop out the door wearing a sex-queen outfit to talk to the receptionist, making me spunk my pants in the process.
But I did cum in my pants looking at the lovely pics in the catalogue and asking the lady if I could buy some ‘spare’ pics please please please, oh please, I’m desperate for pics of Miss Debbie......
My collection is so vast because I have to have anything I see, and online it’s unlimited nowadays. I have huge hard drives crammed with pics of bare girls, and videos. When I was at work as a driver my whole day would be taken over if I saw girls showing or found a dirty bookshop and bought a load of mags. It was in dirty bookshops where ladies served that for the first time I could be seen on a regular basis in my perv gear, dirty mac and wank-trousers. That and the way I acted and the sheer volume of mags I bought meant that those ladies knew I was a wanker and I loved that.
I love girls to know I’m a wanker, a perv who’s never had ‘relations’, and who is so easily stimulated by seeing them show that I cum in my pants seeing raised skirt and knickers, bikinis, cleavage – seeing a girl walk along in a micro-miniskirt means spontaneous ejaculation into my underpants and trousers.
I dreamed for years of being called a wanker by a sexy girl who saw me in my perv gear, and it wasn’t until my 40s that that dream came true, although quite by accident. It was first on a video that Miss Melanie, the first girl I worshipped in person, did for me. Later She called me that to my face as I stood there with a big wet patch on my wank-trousers after seeing Her showing Her stocking-tops, many times.
The Internet era brought lots of new worshipping opportunities, and worshipping remotely was something I did a lot, with many girls who posed for their websites. I was called a wanker many times by those girls, cause obviously they knew that’s what I was.
Ultimately I ‘fell in love’ with an online model – perv love, completely different to romantic love, it’s a one-way street obviously. As a wanker this was the ultimate experience for me, the fulfilment of a life’s dream, one I thought could never ever come true. My Goddess allowed me to worship Her, allowed me to see Her pose and show for real while I stood and watched in my dirty mac and wank-trousers, and called me a wanker, not just in emails and posts but to my face. She knew She made me cum in my pants and even talked to me about it.
Once a wanker, always a wanker, and in the end, able to live openly as a wanker and worship a Goddess, sometimes in Her presence, who knew everything about me. Heaven.
It was also that the mere sight of a girl caused enormous excitement, specially if I knew I was going to see a girl show, like on the telly, or in a miniskirt in the canteen. Every evening I’d be at my window watching for girls walking down the street, and when it was a girl I knew, that was extra special, spunking seeing Her for real rather than just thoughts about Her.
I didn’t give much thought to boys and girls going out, or hearing the lads boasting about the night before. I did form the impression that girls needed to be persuaded, and I remember being glad I didn’t have to do any of that. Not that it was easy seeing what I needed to see – I had to rely on ‘lucky views’, and all the time I spent at my window hoping for girls to walk by.
Discovering ‘dirty’ magazines made a big difference to my life, at an early age, and that’s been a key part of how I get sexual gratification for all my life. I’m SO grateful to girls that pose cause without them it’s doubtful I’d ever get to see what I need to see. It wasn’t until fairly recent times that I realised that some girls love to show, and enjoy that power to the extent that one or two of them would let a pervert mac-wanker like me see them pose.
Being a wanker does have its problems, at work particularly, and I had to make up a lot of fiction to avoid my dirty secret getting out, while at the same time wanting the girls I worshipped at work to gradually come to the conclusion that I was a perv who only wanked himself. At one time a whole office full of girls did come to that conclusion, as one girl I was obsessed with made me take greater risks than usual.
I’d walk past Her office a few times and when I couldn’t stand it anymore, go to the toilet next door and remove an already-erect willy which with a pull back on the foreskin spurted a load of spunk over the bog seat. Then back to gaze in Her office window again. So once when I did that and exited the toilet, two of the girls were there waiting – “did you enjoy that?!” they said pointedly, making me flush up and scurry off.
Eventually I couldn’t take any more and simply stopped and pressed up outside Her office, gawping at Her as the spunk rose and then my knees crumpling as spunk pumped into my underpants. That’s a wanker. A girl will drive me to extremes and there’s nothing I can do about it, I just have to cum in my pants with my eyes on Her. Not by spying, but by seeing Her when She’s showing what She’s happy for the world to see.
As a wanker I’m obsessed with seeing girls show, which after all is the only way I get my sex pleasure. That means if I see a mag, I have to have it. When I read in the Sport about Miss Debbie Quorel’s studio in Stoke on Trent, I had to go there, even though it was miles, and look at the photos in the catalogue the lady on reception had. I was hoping Miss Debbie might be there, even be in the middle of a photo-shoot and pop out the door wearing a sex-queen outfit to talk to the receptionist, making me spunk my pants in the process.
But I did cum in my pants looking at the lovely pics in the catalogue and asking the lady if I could buy some ‘spare’ pics please please please, oh please, I’m desperate for pics of Miss Debbie......
My collection is so vast because I have to have anything I see, and online it’s unlimited nowadays. I have huge hard drives crammed with pics of bare girls, and videos. When I was at work as a driver my whole day would be taken over if I saw girls showing or found a dirty bookshop and bought a load of mags. It was in dirty bookshops where ladies served that for the first time I could be seen on a regular basis in my perv gear, dirty mac and wank-trousers. That and the way I acted and the sheer volume of mags I bought meant that those ladies knew I was a wanker and I loved that.
I love girls to know I’m a wanker, a perv who’s never had ‘relations’, and who is so easily stimulated by seeing them show that I cum in my pants seeing raised skirt and knickers, bikinis, cleavage – seeing a girl walk along in a micro-miniskirt means spontaneous ejaculation into my underpants and trousers.
I dreamed for years of being called a wanker by a sexy girl who saw me in my perv gear, and it wasn’t until my 40s that that dream came true, although quite by accident. It was first on a video that Miss Melanie, the first girl I worshipped in person, did for me. Later She called me that to my face as I stood there with a big wet patch on my wank-trousers after seeing Her showing Her stocking-tops, many times.
The Internet era brought lots of new worshipping opportunities, and worshipping remotely was something I did a lot, with many girls who posed for their websites. I was called a wanker many times by those girls, cause obviously they knew that’s what I was.
Ultimately I ‘fell in love’ with an online model – perv love, completely different to romantic love, it’s a one-way street obviously. As a wanker this was the ultimate experience for me, the fulfilment of a life’s dream, one I thought could never ever come true. My Goddess allowed me to worship Her, allowed me to see Her pose and show for real while I stood and watched in my dirty mac and wank-trousers, and called me a wanker, not just in emails and posts but to my face. She knew She made me cum in my pants and even talked to me about it.
Once a wanker, always a wanker, and in the end, able to live openly as a wanker and worship a Goddess, sometimes in Her presence, who knew everything about me. Heaven.
Mhairi
- 21.03.2020
- 38
- 0
The difference between a lsquo normal rsquo man and a wanker
- 3 years ago
- 187
- 0
The trials and tribulations of being a wanker
- 4 years ago
- 35
- 0
