Being owned Part 12
- 4 years ago
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The sun was just peaking through the over cast sky, pushing its way in through the curtains and across my sleep crusted eyes. I blinked and stretched up, arching my back as the soft cotton sheet slipped down. It felt luxurious and I reveled in the rare opportunity to sleep in with no obligation, school, or extracurricular activity to take my time. Rolling over, my legs rubbed against each other smoothly as they tangled in those worn sheets.
I yawned and listened carefully. No sounds permeated through my door, the house was silent. I almost couldn't believe was home alone. Perched on the side of the bed, I shot a quick glance out the window and confirmed that my Mom’s car was gone; I could see the empty space where she normally parked beside my own car. I stood on my toes and stretched sleep stiffened limbs, fingertips reaching.
In a busy household, the place was never vacant. The normal background noise was usually slammed doors, muffled conversations, and footsteps, not the chirp of a bird, and the brush of a tree along the roof.
Towel in hand, I headed to the bathroom to prepare for my day. The freedom of an empty house was intoxicating as I walked from my room to the bathroom wearing nothing but my boy shorts. The pink lace hugged the curve of my ass and left me feeling sexy. I left the door to the bathroom open; there was no one home anyway, and the thrill of a potential discovery added to my mood.
With a swipe of my finger and a click, I opened a music app on my phone and a bouncy dance beat flowed out surrounding me, wrapping me in its intoxicating strains. I swung my hips from side to side, bouncing my booty as I assembled my towel, soap, and favorite loofa. My hair, still up and braided in its pigtails, did it's own dance across my back and shoulders, keeping time with my bouncing pink boy shorts.
My nipples stood out, tight little nubs pointing out from my breasts. They bounced some, as much as their small stature allowed. I hoped that they would continue to develop into something bigger, but there was enough to jiggle as I danced and that was enough for me.
I turned the handle and pulled the tab for the shower, letting the chilled water flow out. I continued my bouncy dancing to the beat and peeled off my dirty panties in time, filling the bathroom with their sharp scent. I could see the center panel of the lacey shorts was slightly damp. I was feeling more and more aroused as I bounced around in naught but my birthday suit. My unbraided hair now fell in curls down my back. Untamed by my hair ties, it spilled riotously across my shoulders. I could no longer see my reflection dancing with me in the bathroom mirror, the steam from the running shower was covering it.
Climbing into the back of the shower, I eased under the spray. The heated water ran down my hair and flowed down my back. I grabbed the soap and started lathering my skin. The foam on the loofa trailed over me, running in white swaths across my skin. I scrubbed my arms, rubbing each one with long sensuous strokes, then moved on to my torso. I soaped along my rib cage and down, over the points of my hips. I ran the loofa down my legs in a circle, all the way to my painted pink toes. The soapy foam encircled me, leaving me with just my sex still to clean.
I squirted the soap directly on my hand, leaving the scratchy exfoliator in its cubby. Slippery with the creamy soap, I rubbed my fingers along my crevasse. The skin was still silky smooth there like the rest of my body. I routinely removed the few wisps of hair that grew there. The feeling of the baby-soft skin under my soapy fingertips was exciting. I ran my fingers around the skin there, slipping through the firm lips. The skin inside wasn’t soft; rather it was slick and taunt. My fingers run up and down this seam, ostentatiously to wash myself.
It took no more than a couple strokes before I abandoned the attempt to mask my actions as anything but what they were. Why should I care if I was rubbing my excited nub with a purpose? No one was here to see anyway. I could see the open bathroom door through the opaque shower curtain, and had no doubt that it revealed more of my form then it concealed.
I rubbed my fingers faster around the puckered flesh in that crease. The soap was now starting to irritate the sensitive skin there. The hot bite flared as I pressed my fingers into the hidden flesh. I both relished and loathed the ache. The burning sensation caused me to moan a little, so I reached for the shower head, ceasing my ministrations.
A twist of the end changed the water pouring out of the shower head from the gentle spray to a hard stream. I doused my tortured parts. The warm water flowed over me, rinsing clean the soap, swirling it down along my legs to the floor. There it ran foamy and bubbly to the drain. I sighed , head tipped back, legs parted as I continued to spray myself with the water. I continued to spray myself with the water. The water cleansed me, licking me with its spray.
I caught my breath. That sharp spray that I was rinsing with had just grazed my sensitive hood. Its sharp teeth had nipped me. I gasped a little, and then aimed the head again at my hood. This time I was prepared for the attack. Instead of squirming, I spread my knees a bit and thrust my pelvis forward. This was exactly what my excited self wanted. I moaned aloud , almost a whimper.
My head tipped up and my wet hair hung heavily down my back, the wild curls from last night weighted down by water. My free hand was now on my pussy lips, spreading them wide. I wanted the sharp water that licked at me to have greater access. What had been too much was now not enough. I needed more. I pulled the flesh, spreading those lips hard.
This ache I had building was not going to be relieved by a few gentle strokes. I sought to spray harder on my now engorged button. I pulled myself up on my tip toes striving, reaching, aching for that sweet release I knew was coming. I rotated the shower head, sending the stream flickering across me. I moaned, again . This time, it was more than just the girlish whimper I had let loose earlier. This was the lusty ache of a pussy in heat.
My eyes were screwed up tight, and I was concentrating on the sensations: the hard feel of the spray, my fingers biting my flesh, pulling at my lips. That hard spray felt like a tongue rasping across me as it flicked across my nub. I reached for the tension. This wasn't going to be a long drawn out solo session. No, I was racing towards my finish with all muscles straining to the snapping point.
Each muscle was straining. My toes were digging down into the floor of the tub as I pressed myself forward to my shower head. Then it was too much, my pussy started to quake. I bent my spread knees and pushed my hungry peach forward, thrusting. I grunted as the wave of relief that flowed through me was sweet, but it left me still aching and now desperate. I had an empty honey pot there between my legs, and it needed filled.
I stuck a finger into that gash. The outside was dripping from all the water pouring on it. The inside was wet and slippery but thick, clinging to my fingers, even as I pulled them back out before plunging again into the snug, soft interior. Velvet walls hugged my finger as I slipped it in, and out, pushing it deeper and deeper into my box. This was heavenly, but still I wanted more. Another finger slipped beside the first, now there were two fingers sliding in, and out. I whimpered a little as I rammed them deep into me. It still wasn't enough. Those fingers pushed at my walls and filled me, but what I wanted was more. I needed more than just filled; I wanted stuffed.
I opened my eyes to the beige shower walls. This was silly. I should just wash my hair and finish my shower. I opened the shampoo and poured some in my hair, returning to my aborted task of lathering myself. My arms touched the swells of my breasts as I scrubbed and the friction kept my nipples heated. They were standing proud and sharp. It didn't take me long to abandon the scrubbing and start rinsing again.
I cupped my breasts as the water flowed down. Tremors ran from the peaks every time I grazed across them with a thumb. I still desired to filled, the water flowing down me tantalized and promised a sweet delivery that it didn't quite bring. I knew that I should just finish this shower, but I wanted and needed more. I pushed my hungry pussy forward again towards the spray and again, the excitement of the water’s touch left me breathless.
Moaning into the empty room , the harsh spray running across my still hard bean. My hand flew out for balance as I squirmed like a marionette in the breeze. I had to finish this. There would be no backing down.
I thrust my fingers back in my hungry fuck hole. They pushed into that velvety place, giving me comfort, but I needed more. I wanted those finger tips on me again. Frantically, I cast about for something, anything to stuff in that greedy chasm. Nothing was right. Then I spied my Dad’s shampoo bottle. It was thick, but not overly so like my liter bottles and it featured sloped shoulders.
I reached my hand for this perfect instrument. My fingers started to slide along the surface, when I jerked them back, almost as if the bottle were hot. What was I thinking of doing? This was my Daddy’s shampoo bottle. It felt incredibly wrong just thinking of using this bottle, thick and strong like my Dad, in such an intimate and carnal way. This was the man who had held me when I was sick and when I had needed comfort. I had used his strong hands to build my school projects. To use his shampoo bottle would be as taboo as touching him in such a way.
Red faced, I left the bottle standing and returned to inadequately filling myself with a couple fingers. But the entire time I stared at that shampoo bottle. No one was home; no one need know what I was doing. My fingers just weren't enough. Finally, I couldn't stop myself.
I reached out and grasped the bottle, pushing it up into my hole. The top slid in easily. The cap was about the width of my two fingers, but not nearly as long. I pressed harder , 'til the the slope of the bottle was snug against my pussy lips .
I started to fuck myself with the bottle, but I wanted more. I wanted that glorious spray, the very thing that started all of this. I wanted to feel its raspy tongue across my nub while I fucked myself with my Daddy’s shampoo. I held the bottle with one hand while I directed the spray at my most private of places.
“Awww, yes,” I sighed out loud. This is what I was looking for. I eased the bottle in farther and farther, plunging the cap in and out of my pussy. This was satisfying but still there was something lacking. I carefully propped the bottle along the soap dish, bracing it against the back wall. Now I was riding and fucking that upright bottle while I used my hands to bring myself back to the peak I had experienced earlier.
My walls were being stretched out as I rode the bottle deeper, farther into my snatch. I felt stuffed but my busy fingertips told me that I had barely started to consume the bottle. I was convinced that I could take more of the bottle in my ravenous cunt. The fierce spray played its tattoo across my clit while I stuffed myself farther and farther.
I was crying out with abandonment, the calls echoing in the bathroom, but I didn't care. I was consumed with filling my need and was oblivious to anything else. I braced myself, toes crammed into the corner, while I frantically tugged at my nipplesTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
I yawned and listened carefully. No sounds permeated through my door, the house was silent. I almost couldn't believe was home alone. Perched on the side of the bed, I shot a quick glance out the window and confirmed that my Mom’s car was gone; I could see the empty space where she normally parked beside my own car. I stood on my toes and stretched sleep stiffened limbs, fingertips reaching.
In a busy household, the place was never vacant. The normal background noise was usually slammed doors, muffled conversations, and footsteps, not the chirp of a bird, and the brush of a tree along the roof.
Towel in hand, I headed to the bathroom to prepare for my day. The freedom of an empty house was intoxicating as I walked from my room to the bathroom wearing nothing but my boy shorts. The pink lace hugged the curve of my ass and left me feeling sexy. I left the door to the bathroom open; there was no one home anyway, and the thrill of a potential discovery added to my mood.
With a swipe of my finger and a click, I opened a music app on my phone and a bouncy dance beat flowed out surrounding me, wrapping me in its intoxicating strains. I swung my hips from side to side, bouncing my booty as I assembled my towel, soap, and favorite loofa. My hair, still up and braided in its pigtails, did it's own dance across my back and shoulders, keeping time with my bouncing pink boy shorts.
My nipples stood out, tight little nubs pointing out from my breasts. They bounced some, as much as their small stature allowed. I hoped that they would continue to develop into something bigger, but there was enough to jiggle as I danced and that was enough for me.
I turned the handle and pulled the tab for the shower, letting the chilled water flow out. I continued my bouncy dancing to the beat and peeled off my dirty panties in time, filling the bathroom with their sharp scent. I could see the center panel of the lacey shorts was slightly damp. I was feeling more and more aroused as I bounced around in naught but my birthday suit. My unbraided hair now fell in curls down my back. Untamed by my hair ties, it spilled riotously across my shoulders. I could no longer see my reflection dancing with me in the bathroom mirror, the steam from the running shower was covering it.
Climbing into the back of the shower, I eased under the spray. The heated water ran down my hair and flowed down my back. I grabbed the soap and started lathering my skin. The foam on the loofa trailed over me, running in white swaths across my skin. I scrubbed my arms, rubbing each one with long sensuous strokes, then moved on to my torso. I soaped along my rib cage and down, over the points of my hips. I ran the loofa down my legs in a circle, all the way to my painted pink toes. The soapy foam encircled me, leaving me with just my sex still to clean.
I squirted the soap directly on my hand, leaving the scratchy exfoliator in its cubby. Slippery with the creamy soap, I rubbed my fingers along my crevasse. The skin was still silky smooth there like the rest of my body. I routinely removed the few wisps of hair that grew there. The feeling of the baby-soft skin under my soapy fingertips was exciting. I ran my fingers around the skin there, slipping through the firm lips. The skin inside wasn’t soft; rather it was slick and taunt. My fingers run up and down this seam, ostentatiously to wash myself.
It took no more than a couple strokes before I abandoned the attempt to mask my actions as anything but what they were. Why should I care if I was rubbing my excited nub with a purpose? No one was here to see anyway. I could see the open bathroom door through the opaque shower curtain, and had no doubt that it revealed more of my form then it concealed.
I rubbed my fingers faster around the puckered flesh in that crease. The soap was now starting to irritate the sensitive skin there. The hot bite flared as I pressed my fingers into the hidden flesh. I both relished and loathed the ache. The burning sensation caused me to moan a little, so I reached for the shower head, ceasing my ministrations.
A twist of the end changed the water pouring out of the shower head from the gentle spray to a hard stream. I doused my tortured parts. The warm water flowed over me, rinsing clean the soap, swirling it down along my legs to the floor. There it ran foamy and bubbly to the drain. I sighed , head tipped back, legs parted as I continued to spray myself with the water. I continued to spray myself with the water. The water cleansed me, licking me with its spray.
I caught my breath. That sharp spray that I was rinsing with had just grazed my sensitive hood. Its sharp teeth had nipped me. I gasped a little, and then aimed the head again at my hood. This time I was prepared for the attack. Instead of squirming, I spread my knees a bit and thrust my pelvis forward. This was exactly what my excited self wanted. I moaned aloud , almost a whimper.
My head tipped up and my wet hair hung heavily down my back, the wild curls from last night weighted down by water. My free hand was now on my pussy lips, spreading them wide. I wanted the sharp water that licked at me to have greater access. What had been too much was now not enough. I needed more. I pulled the flesh, spreading those lips hard.
This ache I had building was not going to be relieved by a few gentle strokes. I sought to spray harder on my now engorged button. I pulled myself up on my tip toes striving, reaching, aching for that sweet release I knew was coming. I rotated the shower head, sending the stream flickering across me. I moaned, again . This time, it was more than just the girlish whimper I had let loose earlier. This was the lusty ache of a pussy in heat.
My eyes were screwed up tight, and I was concentrating on the sensations: the hard feel of the spray, my fingers biting my flesh, pulling at my lips. That hard spray felt like a tongue rasping across me as it flicked across my nub. I reached for the tension. This wasn't going to be a long drawn out solo session. No, I was racing towards my finish with all muscles straining to the snapping point.
Each muscle was straining. My toes were digging down into the floor of the tub as I pressed myself forward to my shower head. Then it was too much, my pussy started to quake. I bent my spread knees and pushed my hungry peach forward, thrusting. I grunted as the wave of relief that flowed through me was sweet, but it left me still aching and now desperate. I had an empty honey pot there between my legs, and it needed filled.
I stuck a finger into that gash. The outside was dripping from all the water pouring on it. The inside was wet and slippery but thick, clinging to my fingers, even as I pulled them back out before plunging again into the snug, soft interior. Velvet walls hugged my finger as I slipped it in, and out, pushing it deeper and deeper into my box. This was heavenly, but still I wanted more. Another finger slipped beside the first, now there were two fingers sliding in, and out. I whimpered a little as I rammed them deep into me. It still wasn't enough. Those fingers pushed at my walls and filled me, but what I wanted was more. I needed more than just filled; I wanted stuffed.
I opened my eyes to the beige shower walls. This was silly. I should just wash my hair and finish my shower. I opened the shampoo and poured some in my hair, returning to my aborted task of lathering myself. My arms touched the swells of my breasts as I scrubbed and the friction kept my nipples heated. They were standing proud and sharp. It didn't take me long to abandon the scrubbing and start rinsing again.
I cupped my breasts as the water flowed down. Tremors ran from the peaks every time I grazed across them with a thumb. I still desired to filled, the water flowing down me tantalized and promised a sweet delivery that it didn't quite bring. I knew that I should just finish this shower, but I wanted and needed more. I pushed my hungry pussy forward again towards the spray and again, the excitement of the water’s touch left me breathless.
Moaning into the empty room , the harsh spray running across my still hard bean. My hand flew out for balance as I squirmed like a marionette in the breeze. I had to finish this. There would be no backing down.
I thrust my fingers back in my hungry fuck hole. They pushed into that velvety place, giving me comfort, but I needed more. I wanted those finger tips on me again. Frantically, I cast about for something, anything to stuff in that greedy chasm. Nothing was right. Then I spied my Dad’s shampoo bottle. It was thick, but not overly so like my liter bottles and it featured sloped shoulders.
I reached my hand for this perfect instrument. My fingers started to slide along the surface, when I jerked them back, almost as if the bottle were hot. What was I thinking of doing? This was my Daddy’s shampoo bottle. It felt incredibly wrong just thinking of using this bottle, thick and strong like my Dad, in such an intimate and carnal way. This was the man who had held me when I was sick and when I had needed comfort. I had used his strong hands to build my school projects. To use his shampoo bottle would be as taboo as touching him in such a way.
Red faced, I left the bottle standing and returned to inadequately filling myself with a couple fingers. But the entire time I stared at that shampoo bottle. No one was home; no one need know what I was doing. My fingers just weren't enough. Finally, I couldn't stop myself.
I reached out and grasped the bottle, pushing it up into my hole. The top slid in easily. The cap was about the width of my two fingers, but not nearly as long. I pressed harder , 'til the the slope of the bottle was snug against my pussy lips .
I started to fuck myself with the bottle, but I wanted more. I wanted that glorious spray, the very thing that started all of this. I wanted to feel its raspy tongue across my nub while I fucked myself with my Daddy’s shampoo. I held the bottle with one hand while I directed the spray at my most private of places.
“Awww, yes,” I sighed out loud. This is what I was looking for. I eased the bottle in farther and farther, plunging the cap in and out of my pussy. This was satisfying but still there was something lacking. I carefully propped the bottle along the soap dish, bracing it against the back wall. Now I was riding and fucking that upright bottle while I used my hands to bring myself back to the peak I had experienced earlier.
My walls were being stretched out as I rode the bottle deeper, farther into my snatch. I felt stuffed but my busy fingertips told me that I had barely started to consume the bottle. I was convinced that I could take more of the bottle in my ravenous cunt. The fierce spray played its tattoo across my clit while I stuffed myself farther and farther.
I was crying out with abandonment, the calls echoing in the bathroom, but I didn't care. I was consumed with filling my need and was oblivious to anything else. I braced myself, toes crammed into the corner, while I frantically tugged at my nipplesTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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