Bell Whistles SecretsChapter 8 Historical Perspective
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My Father Watched As His Friends Touched Me free porn video
Pole-dancing and Lap-dancing, are erotic movements and gyrations, used by females to both excite and titillate men.
Rubbing ones genitalia against an upright pole, which is representative of the male penis, and grinding ones buttocks against the real thing, may or may not, be pleasurable the the girl performing the act.
The above, if you care to believe it, was written by a fifteen year old girl, I should know, as I am that girl, and my English Master was a man in his fifties.
I watched as he read through my wordings, he was fidgeting in a slightly uncomfortable manner, my imagination and the putting together of words in my girlish mind, was sexually arousing him, that was my intention, because sex was foremost on my mind when I put pen to paper, the pen was his penis, the ink, his seed, soon, I would be writing my name in the snow, holding real cocks and spreading the yellow ink with a girlish flourish.
I had gone to bed a girl, and awoke as a woman with a deep passion for a man's cock. That was almost three years earlier, four days to be exact, before my first menstrual cycle, my body kicked-in with female desires of lusting and imagery, my little girl's cunt was coming of age, making me aware of it's existence, my tiny pearl, glistening as she broke forth, covered in my lucid secretions.
My labia, two twin folds of girlish skin, inner and outer, were most prominent under the thin cotton of my knickers, a size under, making them more so, my angelic face of innocence, belying my youth, as daddy and some of his friends, would stare as I flitted between them in my knickers, unaware of my own wetting, and that darkening stain as it spread, heralding the inner workings of my cunt's desire, I was the perfect pole-dancer, and lap-dancer combined, a lethal combination for one so young.
I was comfortable walking around in tight knickers, just myself and a father who never seemed to notice me, always drinking with his buddies, some whom he brought home at night, and some in particular showed affection.
That was when the words 'Pole' and 'Lap' became instrumental in my formative years, and how my essay, all those years later, was representative of my experience, and now with my bodily curves having more meaning and surface area to caress, at f******n I was still willingly sitting on daddy's friends laps, at our dining room table.
I was giving hand jobs and bum jobs, and daddy just seemingly accepted it and put it down to a girl growing up.
Even when I arose from a particular man's lap with semen on my thighs, his friends releasing their desire for me, under my small hand that pressed them onto my warm skin.
'Are you still a virgin'? I stood beside my father, beer in hand, my crotch at his face level, the cotton of my undersized knickers, forming my all to familiar 'Camel-Toe', imprint of my cunt, which daddy was staring at.
'No Daddy', I answered half truthfully, as I had felt a part penetration, though one of his ejaculating between my labia, it never really felt like a full penetration and the traditional breaking my hymen, signifying the loss of my virginity, it still felt as if he violated the sanctity by parially poking my hole, so I just say no, and get it out of the way, and accept my cunt is open for business.
He started at it, and his hand rose, I assumed he was reaching for the cold beer I held out to him, but he passed it and touched my cunt under the cotton.
I gasped an involuntary exhalation, and I felt my knees buckle. I fell onto his fingers, my labia resting on the length of his index finger, as his hand slowly pushed between my thighs, 'You like this feeling', he asked me.
I swallowed hard, my throat felt tight and my mouth dry. I reached under his extended hand with my free one, and pulled him in against my crotch and as I did so a hazy delirium descended over me, and I started to move along his finger, his knuckles serving as ridges as my clitoris, my polished pearl, ground out a pleasurable feeling with each irregularity.
Daddy remained quiet as I did this, I was lost, bathed in sexual lust and pleasure, my knees bent to meet him, his thumb rubbing my Pearl, the cotton damp spreading as I humped his hand, my breathing sporadic and heavy, I was cumming, now daddy was moving with me, and the feeling of my panties coming down, sent me over the top, daddies hand was fully inserted between my thighs, his thumb inserted inside me, my motion had changed from a gliding rub, to a physical bounce and grind.
With one hand on the seat back and the other, having dropped the beer, rested on his cock, its perfect outline moulded in my grasp, its thickness exciting me more, at that moment as my passion and orgasm broke surface, I clenched my fist and exploded, he was no longer my father, but a man for my pleasure, the lines of distinction were blurred for ever, a friend, lover, no matter what, nature has the last laugh, regardless, I could truly say, my orgasm that moment, was the best ever.
From that moment onwards, we closed our front door to the world of laws and convention, inside our home we were passionate lovers, gratifying lusts that grew and subsided, fucking our brains out and enjoying the unconventional, soon my fantasies and my dads, came to the fore, and daddy would bring men home for me to perform as he watched and played with himself.
Rubbing ones genitalia against an upright pole, which is representative of the male penis, and grinding ones buttocks against the real thing, may or may not, be pleasurable the the girl performing the act.
The above, if you care to believe it, was written by a fifteen year old girl, I should know, as I am that girl, and my English Master was a man in his fifties.
I watched as he read through my wordings, he was fidgeting in a slightly uncomfortable manner, my imagination and the putting together of words in my girlish mind, was sexually arousing him, that was my intention, because sex was foremost on my mind when I put pen to paper, the pen was his penis, the ink, his seed, soon, I would be writing my name in the snow, holding real cocks and spreading the yellow ink with a girlish flourish.
I had gone to bed a girl, and awoke as a woman with a deep passion for a man's cock. That was almost three years earlier, four days to be exact, before my first menstrual cycle, my body kicked-in with female desires of lusting and imagery, my little girl's cunt was coming of age, making me aware of it's existence, my tiny pearl, glistening as she broke forth, covered in my lucid secretions.
My labia, two twin folds of girlish skin, inner and outer, were most prominent under the thin cotton of my knickers, a size under, making them more so, my angelic face of innocence, belying my youth, as daddy and some of his friends, would stare as I flitted between them in my knickers, unaware of my own wetting, and that darkening stain as it spread, heralding the inner workings of my cunt's desire, I was the perfect pole-dancer, and lap-dancer combined, a lethal combination for one so young.
I was comfortable walking around in tight knickers, just myself and a father who never seemed to notice me, always drinking with his buddies, some whom he brought home at night, and some in particular showed affection.
That was when the words 'Pole' and 'Lap' became instrumental in my formative years, and how my essay, all those years later, was representative of my experience, and now with my bodily curves having more meaning and surface area to caress, at f******n I was still willingly sitting on daddy's friends laps, at our dining room table.
I was giving hand jobs and bum jobs, and daddy just seemingly accepted it and put it down to a girl growing up.
Even when I arose from a particular man's lap with semen on my thighs, his friends releasing their desire for me, under my small hand that pressed them onto my warm skin.
'Are you still a virgin'? I stood beside my father, beer in hand, my crotch at his face level, the cotton of my undersized knickers, forming my all to familiar 'Camel-Toe', imprint of my cunt, which daddy was staring at.
'No Daddy', I answered half truthfully, as I had felt a part penetration, though one of his ejaculating between my labia, it never really felt like a full penetration and the traditional breaking my hymen, signifying the loss of my virginity, it still felt as if he violated the sanctity by parially poking my hole, so I just say no, and get it out of the way, and accept my cunt is open for business.
He started at it, and his hand rose, I assumed he was reaching for the cold beer I held out to him, but he passed it and touched my cunt under the cotton.
I gasped an involuntary exhalation, and I felt my knees buckle. I fell onto his fingers, my labia resting on the length of his index finger, as his hand slowly pushed between my thighs, 'You like this feeling', he asked me.
I swallowed hard, my throat felt tight and my mouth dry. I reached under his extended hand with my free one, and pulled him in against my crotch and as I did so a hazy delirium descended over me, and I started to move along his finger, his knuckles serving as ridges as my clitoris, my polished pearl, ground out a pleasurable feeling with each irregularity.
Daddy remained quiet as I did this, I was lost, bathed in sexual lust and pleasure, my knees bent to meet him, his thumb rubbing my Pearl, the cotton damp spreading as I humped his hand, my breathing sporadic and heavy, I was cumming, now daddy was moving with me, and the feeling of my panties coming down, sent me over the top, daddies hand was fully inserted between my thighs, his thumb inserted inside me, my motion had changed from a gliding rub, to a physical bounce and grind.
With one hand on the seat back and the other, having dropped the beer, rested on his cock, its perfect outline moulded in my grasp, its thickness exciting me more, at that moment as my passion and orgasm broke surface, I clenched my fist and exploded, he was no longer my father, but a man for my pleasure, the lines of distinction were blurred for ever, a friend, lover, no matter what, nature has the last laugh, regardless, I could truly say, my orgasm that moment, was the best ever.
From that moment onwards, we closed our front door to the world of laws and convention, inside our home we were passionate lovers, gratifying lusts that grew and subsided, fucking our brains out and enjoying the unconventional, soon my fantasies and my dads, came to the fore, and daddy would bring men home for me to perform as he watched and played with himself.
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