Fridagirl as you have never known her
- 4 years ago
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Fridagirl Anal Sex With A Stranger free porn video
'What's the most outrageous thing I have ever done'?
I wish I could smile or even blush answering that, but I know I would be dishonest, and of course it has to do with sex.
I am a very sexual girl, I just love every aspect about sex, from just thinking about having sex, either done to you or doing it to someone, preferably a stranger, as that gives another feeling, just knowing your blowing his mind being touched by a horny girl and allowing him to do what he wants to you. It's a touchy, feely thing.
I love having orgasms, who doesn't?
We all experience orgasms. It's natures natural body reward for procreating, only today, modern people develop and design orgasms, the intensity varies by the action, if let's say I go with an older man, I'm just f******n or fifteen and he is in his forties or fifties, that intensity, that feeling of fucking a girl in her bloom, her willingness to let a man like that use her for sex, is just amazing, for both of us.
I was twelve or something like that when I experienced my first very powerful orgasm, it was a wet dream in which I had sex with my daddy. it was flawless, and so natural that the feeling was pure, even the anti social stigma around i****tuous sex and paedophilia actually added to the intensity, it was an orgasm that was not natural, like something stolen from the Gods, a nectar to be savoured, which I remember waking up with my thighs still shaking and a strong desire to go hug my poor father, which I did, and I think he knew his naughty daughter was onto something, I was so wet and horny and still just twelve.
Both my parents were Bohemian in nature and I know somethings should never be talked about, but, hey this is xHamster and you guys like to know what girls think, so I grew up in an environment where natural sex was being enacted and I got to watch from my hidey holes, my mother's unnatural need for men, when the mood struck her, she had no hesitation in choosing her lovers, and I use the plural, 'What's the point of having multiple holes if you're not going to use them', she would mockingly berate any man showing a reluctance to penetrate her, for fear of feeling another man against his penis when inside her, double and triple penetration was what I inherited from my viewing, not to mention my own daddy's penchant for wanking himself as he filmed and watched her, and sometimes, hit me with his flying semen, as I crouched out of sight, watching the same live show as he did.
I believe it's every parents duty to teach their offspring about the act of sex. What's the point of perfecting the art of pleasuring both yourself and your partners, only to leave all the interesting stuff out of it, and let us fumble around from biology classes, about the ins and outs, no pun intended, when the real spice is in the art of doing it. Watching my mother scream during her intense orgasms, was not learnt from a classroom lecture, more from a lecherous teacher, a creepy man wanting to touch and fondle, or simply rub against you as you squeeze past him in a tight situation.
So yes, I grew up with a fertile mind and like my mother, a need for men to do what I wanted them to do, without alerting them that it was I who was leading them to do it. I always found it better to let them think that they were seducing me, rather than let them think I was a slut gagging for it.
Anal sex
My first understanding was when my mother was cleaning her collection of sex toys and my eyes fell on a pouch she had of butt plugs, of varying widths, starting with a tantalising teaser, and ending with something resembling a garden 'Dibber', for planting full sized onions.
My curiosity was quelled when mother pushed one up my arse, laughing as she did so, lubricating each one in turn, as she stretched my sphincter. There was a delicious feeling as it opened and slipped over, swallowing and drawing the shape inside my arse. 'Now walk up and down and feel it tickle your 'G-spot darling', she was right and she dared me to go down the sweetie shop with it up my arse and buy sweets, she knew the owner was a paedophile and liked to lure girls like myself into the back shop.
His front door had glass panels, where the sun shone through and if you stood in front of them in a thin cotton dress, he saw the outline of your body, under the dress, even if you did not wear panties, he knew, and the rewards heaped upon you were such that many times my mother had a problem with her blood sugars, as the shop was closed for half an hour, with mother and him in the back shop.
I went down on mother's dare. and had to stop just outside, the thought of that old man seeing me had built up so much in my head, the slightest friction against my 'G-Spot', which was happening, triggered an anal orgasm and made my legs buckle and I wet myself, crouching down as my pee ran from my naked crotch with a butt plug up my arse.
Mother warned me to never overstretch my sphincter, 'Always keep that magical elasticity' she reminded me, 'it's the chocking effect that men like, inside your bum their is nothing, just warmth, and you need to move the cock over the sphincter for feeling and work your arse cheeks like cushions as he humps you', this was what I meant about proper sex education.
In our art classes the male teacher used to give the girls goosebumps when he freehand drew us as we posed, touching us and undoing our buttons, we were all inexperienced, sticking our chests out hoping to have our tits felt as his hand traced our outlines before the crayon or pencil did the same on paper.
One girl in particular Jane Morrison, had a pair of tits to die for and that morning as we all watched with bated breath, he opened her front and drew her shape, it was like watching pornography unfold before your eyes, as Jane's nipples suddenly burst into a life of their own, she was like an orchestra and he the conductor with his pencil, as he glided across her shape, all our eyes were glued onto his crotch, as he swelled and showed a classroom of pubescent girls what an erection looks like when it strained against his tight pants, and we girls rubbed and pressed our fannies against the hard edges of our desks.
The atmosphere in that classroom that morning was hot to say the least, the smell of our cunts filled the air with a muskiness that made the school dog, 'Buster', howl and lick himself, the number of times poor Buster went for walkies with a menstruating girl in need of a good licking, was beyond counting.
He was overweight, with all the peanut and jam sandwiches rubbed onto and into our 'cunnies' to be enjoyed, sitting or 'Doggy style', either way, you never heard it from me, but even today it's more open as men take a back seat from ll that feminism, that claim they are no longer needed for the most basic fuck.
I remember one incident on coming home late from a party I rounded onto my street, just off Leith Walk, a darkened tenement with a rounded stairwell going up and as I got to the second landing, a man was standing with his pants down masturbating himself. I don't know if he saw my approach from the street, but either way, by the time I got to where he was standing, I stopped and faced him.
I could have run or screamed, but did neither, in an instant I was liking what confronted me, but acutely aware of never to show a man you were up for it. As it happened he was whimpering, almost begging me to let him finish his wank, but come on, what was in it for me, I was being stimulated and wanted some of that action, so I behaved like a frightened little girl, like a rabbit caught in the oncoming headlamps of a car.
That obedience, that timorous cowering female thing, does something for the male ego as he shuffled over to me with his pants around his ankles, 'The Penguin Shuffle' as we girls call it, until he reached out and held me, 'There was no getting away now', I thought, as I turned to the railings facing the street, two flights down, and gripped onto them, feeling my dress being pulled up high enough to reveal my stockings and g-string, and his pressing his cock against my warm bum.
'Spread your fucking cheeks cunt', he breathed into my ear and hair, his bravado knew no bounds now he had me where he wanted me, his erection getting tangled up in the thin cord that ran between my arse cheeks, which he grabbed and ripped from the patch that covered my now wet cunt.
I reached behind myself and dug my red nails into my pillows and pulled them open, as he sought the crinkled flesh of my bum hole, there was sufficient lubrication from my overly secreting, vagina, enough of a lubricant to allow him to slide inside and yes, OMFG, he was long enough to rub against my 'G', and together we humped and ground against each other, lost in our own thoughts as we tried to achieve our orgasms, all I remember is him calling me a, 'Fucking slut', when he realised I was actually fucking him back, the lamb was now the wolf, as I had let go my arse cheeks and found new flesh to dig my nails into, his hips, and yes he bled, as he tried on a few occasions to get away, but I was not finished with his cock until I was finished.
In all it lasted about ten minutes. We had gone through every gamut of emotions, surprise, fear, shock, excitement, **** love and pure joy, you name it and when you have a sexual act that encompasses this range of feeling, you are having a great fucking experience.
I was used and satisfied, I was ****d and loved the act, I was used and cast aside like a used condom when I least expected it and better still, let him feel he was the aggressor and I was just complying with his need for me. The fact I took it up my arse without a problem has nothing to do with it, he wanted it, took it, and all I had to do was stay and not scream, though my anal orgasm was something I had to bite my own tongue, in order to prevent him from letting him know I had actually cum.
I wish I could smile or even blush answering that, but I know I would be dishonest, and of course it has to do with sex.
I am a very sexual girl, I just love every aspect about sex, from just thinking about having sex, either done to you or doing it to someone, preferably a stranger, as that gives another feeling, just knowing your blowing his mind being touched by a horny girl and allowing him to do what he wants to you. It's a touchy, feely thing.
I love having orgasms, who doesn't?
We all experience orgasms. It's natures natural body reward for procreating, only today, modern people develop and design orgasms, the intensity varies by the action, if let's say I go with an older man, I'm just f******n or fifteen and he is in his forties or fifties, that intensity, that feeling of fucking a girl in her bloom, her willingness to let a man like that use her for sex, is just amazing, for both of us.
I was twelve or something like that when I experienced my first very powerful orgasm, it was a wet dream in which I had sex with my daddy. it was flawless, and so natural that the feeling was pure, even the anti social stigma around i****tuous sex and paedophilia actually added to the intensity, it was an orgasm that was not natural, like something stolen from the Gods, a nectar to be savoured, which I remember waking up with my thighs still shaking and a strong desire to go hug my poor father, which I did, and I think he knew his naughty daughter was onto something, I was so wet and horny and still just twelve.
Both my parents were Bohemian in nature and I know somethings should never be talked about, but, hey this is xHamster and you guys like to know what girls think, so I grew up in an environment where natural sex was being enacted and I got to watch from my hidey holes, my mother's unnatural need for men, when the mood struck her, she had no hesitation in choosing her lovers, and I use the plural, 'What's the point of having multiple holes if you're not going to use them', she would mockingly berate any man showing a reluctance to penetrate her, for fear of feeling another man against his penis when inside her, double and triple penetration was what I inherited from my viewing, not to mention my own daddy's penchant for wanking himself as he filmed and watched her, and sometimes, hit me with his flying semen, as I crouched out of sight, watching the same live show as he did.
I believe it's every parents duty to teach their offspring about the act of sex. What's the point of perfecting the art of pleasuring both yourself and your partners, only to leave all the interesting stuff out of it, and let us fumble around from biology classes, about the ins and outs, no pun intended, when the real spice is in the art of doing it. Watching my mother scream during her intense orgasms, was not learnt from a classroom lecture, more from a lecherous teacher, a creepy man wanting to touch and fondle, or simply rub against you as you squeeze past him in a tight situation.
So yes, I grew up with a fertile mind and like my mother, a need for men to do what I wanted them to do, without alerting them that it was I who was leading them to do it. I always found it better to let them think that they were seducing me, rather than let them think I was a slut gagging for it.
Anal sex
My first understanding was when my mother was cleaning her collection of sex toys and my eyes fell on a pouch she had of butt plugs, of varying widths, starting with a tantalising teaser, and ending with something resembling a garden 'Dibber', for planting full sized onions.
My curiosity was quelled when mother pushed one up my arse, laughing as she did so, lubricating each one in turn, as she stretched my sphincter. There was a delicious feeling as it opened and slipped over, swallowing and drawing the shape inside my arse. 'Now walk up and down and feel it tickle your 'G-spot darling', she was right and she dared me to go down the sweetie shop with it up my arse and buy sweets, she knew the owner was a paedophile and liked to lure girls like myself into the back shop.
His front door had glass panels, where the sun shone through and if you stood in front of them in a thin cotton dress, he saw the outline of your body, under the dress, even if you did not wear panties, he knew, and the rewards heaped upon you were such that many times my mother had a problem with her blood sugars, as the shop was closed for half an hour, with mother and him in the back shop.
I went down on mother's dare. and had to stop just outside, the thought of that old man seeing me had built up so much in my head, the slightest friction against my 'G-Spot', which was happening, triggered an anal orgasm and made my legs buckle and I wet myself, crouching down as my pee ran from my naked crotch with a butt plug up my arse.
Mother warned me to never overstretch my sphincter, 'Always keep that magical elasticity' she reminded me, 'it's the chocking effect that men like, inside your bum their is nothing, just warmth, and you need to move the cock over the sphincter for feeling and work your arse cheeks like cushions as he humps you', this was what I meant about proper sex education.
In our art classes the male teacher used to give the girls goosebumps when he freehand drew us as we posed, touching us and undoing our buttons, we were all inexperienced, sticking our chests out hoping to have our tits felt as his hand traced our outlines before the crayon or pencil did the same on paper.
One girl in particular Jane Morrison, had a pair of tits to die for and that morning as we all watched with bated breath, he opened her front and drew her shape, it was like watching pornography unfold before your eyes, as Jane's nipples suddenly burst into a life of their own, she was like an orchestra and he the conductor with his pencil, as he glided across her shape, all our eyes were glued onto his crotch, as he swelled and showed a classroom of pubescent girls what an erection looks like when it strained against his tight pants, and we girls rubbed and pressed our fannies against the hard edges of our desks.
The atmosphere in that classroom that morning was hot to say the least, the smell of our cunts filled the air with a muskiness that made the school dog, 'Buster', howl and lick himself, the number of times poor Buster went for walkies with a menstruating girl in need of a good licking, was beyond counting.
He was overweight, with all the peanut and jam sandwiches rubbed onto and into our 'cunnies' to be enjoyed, sitting or 'Doggy style', either way, you never heard it from me, but even today it's more open as men take a back seat from ll that feminism, that claim they are no longer needed for the most basic fuck.
I remember one incident on coming home late from a party I rounded onto my street, just off Leith Walk, a darkened tenement with a rounded stairwell going up and as I got to the second landing, a man was standing with his pants down masturbating himself. I don't know if he saw my approach from the street, but either way, by the time I got to where he was standing, I stopped and faced him.
I could have run or screamed, but did neither, in an instant I was liking what confronted me, but acutely aware of never to show a man you were up for it. As it happened he was whimpering, almost begging me to let him finish his wank, but come on, what was in it for me, I was being stimulated and wanted some of that action, so I behaved like a frightened little girl, like a rabbit caught in the oncoming headlamps of a car.
That obedience, that timorous cowering female thing, does something for the male ego as he shuffled over to me with his pants around his ankles, 'The Penguin Shuffle' as we girls call it, until he reached out and held me, 'There was no getting away now', I thought, as I turned to the railings facing the street, two flights down, and gripped onto them, feeling my dress being pulled up high enough to reveal my stockings and g-string, and his pressing his cock against my warm bum.
'Spread your fucking cheeks cunt', he breathed into my ear and hair, his bravado knew no bounds now he had me where he wanted me, his erection getting tangled up in the thin cord that ran between my arse cheeks, which he grabbed and ripped from the patch that covered my now wet cunt.
I reached behind myself and dug my red nails into my pillows and pulled them open, as he sought the crinkled flesh of my bum hole, there was sufficient lubrication from my overly secreting, vagina, enough of a lubricant to allow him to slide inside and yes, OMFG, he was long enough to rub against my 'G', and together we humped and ground against each other, lost in our own thoughts as we tried to achieve our orgasms, all I remember is him calling me a, 'Fucking slut', when he realised I was actually fucking him back, the lamb was now the wolf, as I had let go my arse cheeks and found new flesh to dig my nails into, his hips, and yes he bled, as he tried on a few occasions to get away, but I was not finished with his cock until I was finished.
In all it lasted about ten minutes. We had gone through every gamut of emotions, surprise, fear, shock, excitement, **** love and pure joy, you name it and when you have a sexual act that encompasses this range of feeling, you are having a great fucking experience.
I was used and satisfied, I was ****d and loved the act, I was used and cast aside like a used condom when I least expected it and better still, let him feel he was the aggressor and I was just complying with his need for me. The fact I took it up my arse without a problem has nothing to do with it, he wanted it, took it, and all I had to do was stay and not scream, though my anal orgasm was something I had to bite my own tongue, in order to prevent him from letting him know I had actually cum.
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