Techno CultivatorChapter 28 Trials and Tribulations
- 2 years ago
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The Trials And Tribulations Of Being A Wanker free porn video
It has to be a secret from others at school – even the girls I worshipped couldn’t know – if the secret got out, my life would have been hell – bullying, ostracisation, mockery, the lot.
Even at work, most people couldn’t know, as I’d risk ostracisation and derision, disgust, even getting the sack. But I did like the girls I worshipped to know, and I worked out ways of doing this, my behaviour, things I said, that meant they would gradually come to that conclusion.
Of course the benefits of being are wanker are tremendous too. I never had to compete for girl-friends, never had to do the wooing or chat-ups, worry about how I looked, wearing the latest fashions or my haircut. Never needed to know what to do or being able to perform – if I saw a lovely girl the only thing I wanted to do was find ways of watching Her, hopefully for long enough for Her to make me cum in my pants – 3 or 4 minutes maybe.
The real problem was being a compulsive masturbator. That meant seeing a lovely girl would drive me crazy and one way or another I’d have to spunk with my eyes on Her, even if that meant wetting my underpants in the canteen at work, or pressing up outside Her office as I watched Her through the window.
It meant going everywhere in my rainmac with holes in the pockets, and whenever I could, in my wank-trousers, which were baggy, absorbent material to soak up the cum and holes in the pockets for instant access as soon as a girl came into view. Even so I’d got no control over what I’d see and when or for how long, so if it was a cold night and no clubbing girls were walking along, by the time one did I’d be cold and limp and have to jerk at 100 mph to hopefully cum before She was out of sight, and that meant my flapping mac could be noticed.
At some places I lived over the years I had a window overlooking the street, and if it was the right sort of street, could see girls walking along. I became a familiar sight in the best places for girl-watching, my head poking out between my curtains and nodding up and down furiously as I went up and down on my knob, watching a lovely girl walk along. After I’d been evicted or moved on or whatever, I bet it meant they had to repaint the room because of all the spunk-stains down the wall.
Cumming in your pants in the cinema isn’t difficult because it’s dark, and usually I was in those movie houses which showed dirty films so there’d only be a few other sad pervs sitting around in their macs. And usually the girls in those films were more bare than I needed to see so I’d cum in my pants within a few seconds of them appearing on screen in bikinis or low-cut tops.
It was far more difficult in those places where there was a communal TV, like when I was much younger. When girls came on screen, maybe doing up their suspender, you’d have a few seconds only before the camera went elsewhere, and in that time to pants-spunk needed some rubbing.
It was when the go-go dancers were on TV programmes in the 60s that I’d go crazy, seeing girls in the shortest skirts, dancing those sexy dances and showing their knix all the time. Fortunately that was more than I ever saw in real life, apart from in all my magazines, so those girls would make me cum in my pants very easily, and I don’t think I was ever noticed.
One of the other very difficult things about being a wanker is finding ways to tell girls that you worship them and they make you cum in your pants. Girls at work or in the local pub, shop or whatever you can’t tell of course, though a few of them would have seen me at my window gawping at them and my eyes glazing over as I was overcum with ecstasy. But would they have known that behind my curtains I was nude and holding my stiff knob as I watched them, feeling the spunk rising seeing the girl who was driving me crazy with Her miniskirts and tight tops, and then cum spunking out of it down my wall as I moaned and moaned.
Then all the girls online, much much later in life - they are posing, setting up their own websites, letting all the men see them bare, knowing they are being wanked on and spunked on all the time. All the time I was downloading pics and cumming in my pants in a few minutes - later videos too. I was DESPERATE to tell Her what She made me do, and soon you could by email. I told so many girls and got into conversations with quite a few who let me say whatever I wanted and said nice sexy things back (see my story ‘The Delights of Pervy Emails to Sex-Queens’.)
But of course a lot of girls never responded, leaving me frustrated – I didn’t know if She’d read that a pic of Hers had given me perv pants-spunk ecstasy and I SO WANTED Her to know.
In the early days being a wanker meant I had to go into shops and buy baregirl mags. Everyone would see I was a wanker and getting all the dirty mags he needed to fulfil his pervy, voyeur needs. That was always very difficult when I was younger, but later I came to enjoy it, learning the best shops to go to, making sure I used the ones where ladies served.
In those early years I obviously couldn’t put my mac on to go in the shop next to where I worked, as people from work would likely see me and that would be that. But later wearing my mac and perv gear to go and buy lots of mags was one of the things I loved most. But in the early days it was so difficult seeing a mag with a lovely bare girl on the cover and desperately needing to own it, but having to run the gauntlet of all the people in the shop.
It was only ever by chance seeing what I needed to see. I mean, I never spied on girls like some voyeurs – I don’t need to see girls undressed to get my sex pleasure, it was enough to see fully-dressed, sexy-dressed girls at work or walking down the street. But of course, wherever I went, I just had to wait, and wait and wait, in the hope of seeing girls walking along. One place I lived I found a spot where I could look through the fence and see girls walking down the street – when there were girls walking down the street.
In the dodgy weather particularly, I could be there all day, with no clothes on, holding my little willy and waiting. Even then, one of my favourite girls might come along but wearing a coat as it was cold so I couldn’t see anything. I’d still probably spray the fence with cum though because it was Her. I couldn’t tell any of those girls of course. I’d need to take boxes of dirty mags with me so I could keep myself going throughout the day, waiting for girls to walk along.
On the street corners in my mac I was a familiar sight in some places, and then of course I’d attract attention. Some of that was nice, as girls played up to me, winding me up and sometimes that gave me ecstasy. But others would call out, so people would look around, and there I was on a warm evening in my dirty mac all zipped up, and you could see people thinking ‘pervert, wanker, dirty old man’.
The need to keep my perviness secret at work was always a problem. One way to deal with it was to let it be known in various ways to the girls I worshipped, and hopefully only they would know. So for example I’d walk past the office where girls I worshipped were, then walk back past, then back past again, and of course they’d know I was looking at them. They’d know I was a perv because I couldn’t talk to them, I was shy and nervous in their presence and only wanted to find ways of looking at them.
Often those girls would drive me so crazy I’d have to spunk my pants looking at them, whatever the risks. In the canteen, pressing up outside their offices, waiting inside the toilets till they’d walked past and then poke my head out while I rubbed my trousers – thing is, when you worship a girl like I do, you just get utterly DESPERATE to go into ecstasy while She’s in sight. I was lucky enough to do that many many times, but there were also times when it never happened, despite my best efforts and the risks I took.
When you’re out and about for work though, it’s a real problem seeing lovely girls showing, or maybe a new dirty bookshop you’ve not seen before, and not being able to resist abandoning work and getting your sex pleasure. So parking up where you can watch the girls showing, hoping you can see long enough for them to make you cum in your pants. Then you can get back to work, it’s true, but probably by that time you’re late, specially if you have to let your trousers and pants dry first.
If I see a bookshop, whether I’ve been in there before or not, I have to park and go in. If they’ve got a lot of mags I haven’t got, or don’t think I’ve got, then I’ll spend several hours ogling them in my van and cumming in my pants, probably wrecking the rest of the working day. It’s not a question of a quick one off the wrist – that’s risky anyway parked in public. It’s more that I want to take my time just looking at the pics, drawing on my pervy cartoons and captions, ogling a lovely girl’s pic, knowing She’s going to make me spunk my pants, being patient because it’s lovely to feel the spunk gradually rising, feeling the power She has over you, the growing sensations in the tip of your penis, your moans as She makes you leak pre-cum, the pathetic whimpers and cries of perv ecstasy as She makes you spunk your pants.
That’s why you’re going to be late, or fail the rest of the day’s work. It’s not easy being a wanker. But it’s lovely. It’s lovelier still when girls know, when they know you wank on them, or better still, when they know they make you spunk your pants.
Doing it looking at their photos and videos, telling them about it by email and them replying, calling you a wanker, is all lovely. But if you’re like me, the thing you are desperate to do is spunk your pants in front of them, or at least in their presence and they know that’s what happens even if you hide it. But for that to happen is not at all easy, it’s nerve-wracking, so much so that a lot of the time you can’t even ask for that.
Then you’re there, in Her presence at last, the thing you’ve dreamed of – She’s seeing you in your dirty mac and perv-gear, you’ve got Her photos, worship sheets, everything, but, oh, the nerves. I’m literally trembling, trying to calm down, hoping not to wreck the opportunity which might not come again. Fortunately the girls I worshipped were so lovely they do their best to help you relax and enjoy the Session. She knows She’ll make you cum in your pants seeing Her show and pose, and that’s what you want more than anything in the world. She knows it’s taken you months, years even to get to this stage.
And yes, some girls will make sure you do spunk your pants, choosing the right outfit to pose in, one She knows you love to see Her in. Some girls say the loveliest, sexiest naughty things because She knows hearing that will soon have you pants-spunking.
It’s the thing you’re most afraid of, because you have to face Her after months or years of pervy worship, sending Her the perviest things, telling Her every graphic detail of your worship, the pants-spunking She makes you do. What if She doesn’t like it after all? What if all you’re going to get is a big telling off? What if it’s all a mistake, She didn’t intend you should worship Her. What if She sees you’re spunking your pants and gets angry.
So it’s the thing I wanted more than anything, but was always so nervous about trying to achieve. Oh, the trials and tribulations of being a wanker! But it’s worth it, so worth it.
Even at work, most people couldn’t know, as I’d risk ostracisation and derision, disgust, even getting the sack. But I did like the girls I worshipped to know, and I worked out ways of doing this, my behaviour, things I said, that meant they would gradually come to that conclusion.
Of course the benefits of being are wanker are tremendous too. I never had to compete for girl-friends, never had to do the wooing or chat-ups, worry about how I looked, wearing the latest fashions or my haircut. Never needed to know what to do or being able to perform – if I saw a lovely girl the only thing I wanted to do was find ways of watching Her, hopefully for long enough for Her to make me cum in my pants – 3 or 4 minutes maybe.
The real problem was being a compulsive masturbator. That meant seeing a lovely girl would drive me crazy and one way or another I’d have to spunk with my eyes on Her, even if that meant wetting my underpants in the canteen at work, or pressing up outside Her office as I watched Her through the window.
It meant going everywhere in my rainmac with holes in the pockets, and whenever I could, in my wank-trousers, which were baggy, absorbent material to soak up the cum and holes in the pockets for instant access as soon as a girl came into view. Even so I’d got no control over what I’d see and when or for how long, so if it was a cold night and no clubbing girls were walking along, by the time one did I’d be cold and limp and have to jerk at 100 mph to hopefully cum before She was out of sight, and that meant my flapping mac could be noticed.
At some places I lived over the years I had a window overlooking the street, and if it was the right sort of street, could see girls walking along. I became a familiar sight in the best places for girl-watching, my head poking out between my curtains and nodding up and down furiously as I went up and down on my knob, watching a lovely girl walk along. After I’d been evicted or moved on or whatever, I bet it meant they had to repaint the room because of all the spunk-stains down the wall.
Cumming in your pants in the cinema isn’t difficult because it’s dark, and usually I was in those movie houses which showed dirty films so there’d only be a few other sad pervs sitting around in their macs. And usually the girls in those films were more bare than I needed to see so I’d cum in my pants within a few seconds of them appearing on screen in bikinis or low-cut tops.
It was far more difficult in those places where there was a communal TV, like when I was much younger. When girls came on screen, maybe doing up their suspender, you’d have a few seconds only before the camera went elsewhere, and in that time to pants-spunk needed some rubbing.
It was when the go-go dancers were on TV programmes in the 60s that I’d go crazy, seeing girls in the shortest skirts, dancing those sexy dances and showing their knix all the time. Fortunately that was more than I ever saw in real life, apart from in all my magazines, so those girls would make me cum in my pants very easily, and I don’t think I was ever noticed.
One of the other very difficult things about being a wanker is finding ways to tell girls that you worship them and they make you cum in your pants. Girls at work or in the local pub, shop or whatever you can’t tell of course, though a few of them would have seen me at my window gawping at them and my eyes glazing over as I was overcum with ecstasy. But would they have known that behind my curtains I was nude and holding my stiff knob as I watched them, feeling the spunk rising seeing the girl who was driving me crazy with Her miniskirts and tight tops, and then cum spunking out of it down my wall as I moaned and moaned.
Then all the girls online, much much later in life - they are posing, setting up their own websites, letting all the men see them bare, knowing they are being wanked on and spunked on all the time. All the time I was downloading pics and cumming in my pants in a few minutes - later videos too. I was DESPERATE to tell Her what She made me do, and soon you could by email. I told so many girls and got into conversations with quite a few who let me say whatever I wanted and said nice sexy things back (see my story ‘The Delights of Pervy Emails to Sex-Queens’.)
But of course a lot of girls never responded, leaving me frustrated – I didn’t know if She’d read that a pic of Hers had given me perv pants-spunk ecstasy and I SO WANTED Her to know.
In the early days being a wanker meant I had to go into shops and buy baregirl mags. Everyone would see I was a wanker and getting all the dirty mags he needed to fulfil his pervy, voyeur needs. That was always very difficult when I was younger, but later I came to enjoy it, learning the best shops to go to, making sure I used the ones where ladies served.
In those early years I obviously couldn’t put my mac on to go in the shop next to where I worked, as people from work would likely see me and that would be that. But later wearing my mac and perv gear to go and buy lots of mags was one of the things I loved most. But in the early days it was so difficult seeing a mag with a lovely bare girl on the cover and desperately needing to own it, but having to run the gauntlet of all the people in the shop.
It was only ever by chance seeing what I needed to see. I mean, I never spied on girls like some voyeurs – I don’t need to see girls undressed to get my sex pleasure, it was enough to see fully-dressed, sexy-dressed girls at work or walking down the street. But of course, wherever I went, I just had to wait, and wait and wait, in the hope of seeing girls walking along. One place I lived I found a spot where I could look through the fence and see girls walking down the street – when there were girls walking down the street.
In the dodgy weather particularly, I could be there all day, with no clothes on, holding my little willy and waiting. Even then, one of my favourite girls might come along but wearing a coat as it was cold so I couldn’t see anything. I’d still probably spray the fence with cum though because it was Her. I couldn’t tell any of those girls of course. I’d need to take boxes of dirty mags with me so I could keep myself going throughout the day, waiting for girls to walk along.
On the street corners in my mac I was a familiar sight in some places, and then of course I’d attract attention. Some of that was nice, as girls played up to me, winding me up and sometimes that gave me ecstasy. But others would call out, so people would look around, and there I was on a warm evening in my dirty mac all zipped up, and you could see people thinking ‘pervert, wanker, dirty old man’.
The need to keep my perviness secret at work was always a problem. One way to deal with it was to let it be known in various ways to the girls I worshipped, and hopefully only they would know. So for example I’d walk past the office where girls I worshipped were, then walk back past, then back past again, and of course they’d know I was looking at them. They’d know I was a perv because I couldn’t talk to them, I was shy and nervous in their presence and only wanted to find ways of looking at them.
Often those girls would drive me so crazy I’d have to spunk my pants looking at them, whatever the risks. In the canteen, pressing up outside their offices, waiting inside the toilets till they’d walked past and then poke my head out while I rubbed my trousers – thing is, when you worship a girl like I do, you just get utterly DESPERATE to go into ecstasy while She’s in sight. I was lucky enough to do that many many times, but there were also times when it never happened, despite my best efforts and the risks I took.
When you’re out and about for work though, it’s a real problem seeing lovely girls showing, or maybe a new dirty bookshop you’ve not seen before, and not being able to resist abandoning work and getting your sex pleasure. So parking up where you can watch the girls showing, hoping you can see long enough for them to make you cum in your pants. Then you can get back to work, it’s true, but probably by that time you’re late, specially if you have to let your trousers and pants dry first.
If I see a bookshop, whether I’ve been in there before or not, I have to park and go in. If they’ve got a lot of mags I haven’t got, or don’t think I’ve got, then I’ll spend several hours ogling them in my van and cumming in my pants, probably wrecking the rest of the working day. It’s not a question of a quick one off the wrist – that’s risky anyway parked in public. It’s more that I want to take my time just looking at the pics, drawing on my pervy cartoons and captions, ogling a lovely girl’s pic, knowing She’s going to make me spunk my pants, being patient because it’s lovely to feel the spunk gradually rising, feeling the power She has over you, the growing sensations in the tip of your penis, your moans as She makes you leak pre-cum, the pathetic whimpers and cries of perv ecstasy as She makes you spunk your pants.
That’s why you’re going to be late, or fail the rest of the day’s work. It’s not easy being a wanker. But it’s lovely. It’s lovelier still when girls know, when they know you wank on them, or better still, when they know they make you spunk your pants.
Doing it looking at their photos and videos, telling them about it by email and them replying, calling you a wanker, is all lovely. But if you’re like me, the thing you are desperate to do is spunk your pants in front of them, or at least in their presence and they know that’s what happens even if you hide it. But for that to happen is not at all easy, it’s nerve-wracking, so much so that a lot of the time you can’t even ask for that.
Then you’re there, in Her presence at last, the thing you’ve dreamed of – She’s seeing you in your dirty mac and perv-gear, you’ve got Her photos, worship sheets, everything, but, oh, the nerves. I’m literally trembling, trying to calm down, hoping not to wreck the opportunity which might not come again. Fortunately the girls I worshipped were so lovely they do their best to help you relax and enjoy the Session. She knows She’ll make you cum in your pants seeing Her show and pose, and that’s what you want more than anything in the world. She knows it’s taken you months, years even to get to this stage.
And yes, some girls will make sure you do spunk your pants, choosing the right outfit to pose in, one She knows you love to see Her in. Some girls say the loveliest, sexiest naughty things because She knows hearing that will soon have you pants-spunking.
It’s the thing you’re most afraid of, because you have to face Her after months or years of pervy worship, sending Her the perviest things, telling Her every graphic detail of your worship, the pants-spunking She makes you do. What if She doesn’t like it after all? What if all you’re going to get is a big telling off? What if it’s all a mistake, She didn’t intend you should worship Her. What if She sees you’re spunking your pants and gets angry.
So it’s the thing I wanted more than anything, but was always so nervous about trying to achieve. Oh, the trials and tribulations of being a wanker! But it’s worth it, so worth it.
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