Your first brassiere can be a defining moment in your life. My dads titty magazines taught me that along with the day I walked into the bathroom and caught him having a quicky, into the washbasin, seeing your daddy do it can influence what it is that excited him, just as much as picking a boyfriend to please daddy, so guys the next time you need a wank, remember to lock the bathroom door, girls can be impetuous and just barge in.
Daddy was wanking to the display of full breasts, that was his weakness, he like them large and full, like my mothers, that might explain his reason for sitting astride hers, everyone to their own joys during sex, besides, having seen daddy in full flow, I could proudly boast my daddy was bigger then my girlfriends daddies, without really pertaining to what it was I was measuring.
Because of my athleticism, I guess my testosterone levels were winning the battle during my formative years, my body was tomboyish, and my desire for sex, was switched on at 'Daily'.
I would wear skimpy outfits, be caught in various stages of undress, and allow boys to slip their hands under my short skirts in the back rows in cinemas, sometimes when men next to me were playing 'footsy' I would close my eyes and let my mind race as both sets of fingers explored.
In Newcastle as a teenager, I went to an adult cinema late one night, a Wednesday I remember, it was raining hard and cold and I had ducked under the dimly lit foyer to escape a particularly heavy downpour, not realizing at the time, what the building really was, until I saw the display cards further back into the foyer.
Of course I was soaked through and in my usual revealing skimpy outfit the guy in the cashiers box was clearly enjoying my presence, 'Can I take a look at whats on', I asked, casting a downward glance to see if he was doing what I thought he was.
Everything was very dark and it took some time to get your eyes adjusted to the lower levels of darkness, once I realized it was porn they were showing, I understood why it was darkish and out of the way, down a side street, and deserted, my kind of cinema, this place excited me, bringing together the right kind of seedy men, dirty flicks and memories of men touching me.
'You old enough', he asked me, not surprisingly, as at eighteen I did look fresh and athletic, but my Scandinavian attitude and appearance captivated him, I already knew Swedes were a favorite with British men, we were all into porn, and here was I confronting him in his own foyer.
His question about my age made me think about me lack of growth in my upstairs department, event though everything else about me spoke volumes about a great fuck, long blond hair, perfect bum, long legs, and my typical fresh faced grey-eyed beauty look, Swedes are renowned for, I reached into my pocket and produced my matriculation card from Uni, and handed it to him, showing I was eighteen, 'You need to be twenty-one', he said after doing the maths, and still holding onto my card, passing compliments of my photo.
As any girl will know from experience, he was hooked on me and awkwardly trying to make a play, 'Why do you have to be twenty-one to see a fuck movie', I asked him outright, knowing my use of the word 'fuck', would unnerve him, which it did, 'God these men are so predictable', I remember thinking, then out of the blue I asked him, 'Vill du Knulla mig' (will you fuck me in Swedish), he looked puzzled, 'Sorry, I dont understand', so I continued, 'kommer du knulla min röv',(will you fuck my ass), he shook his head again, as I stood facing him, unafraid and dirty, and as he started to protest I said, 'min fitta är våt',(my pussy is wet', and it was, I was telling the truth so it was heart felt as I faced him down, the rain fell harder, we were alone and I suddenly wanted to fuck, 'I dont understand you, you need to speak English', I waited and finally said, 'I want to watch the movie'.
His eyes moved from my face down to my perceivable twin peaks, my nipples making an impression through the thin cotton t-shirt, these two babies did not need a brassiere, they neither bounced or jiggled, just stuck out begging to be handled, he licked his lips as his eyes rested on my protruding nipples, at that point I wished I had exposed them to the rain, seeing them through sodden cotton, does wonders for men, he stood open-mouthed, 'Do you want to look at my breasts', I challenged as my cotton knickers were getting the wetting my t-shirt craved, I lifted slowly and deliberately until my nipples brushed the cool glass, then I pressed against it, all the time unblinkingly eyeballing him, 'Come round', he gasped, and I walked around to the open door and into his kiosk, proudly displaying my bared flesh.
'Touch them', I said, 'Go on, they dont bite', and at my determined f***efulness, he tweaked both my sensitive nipples, causing my knees to buckle, my nipples were hard wired to my clitoris, touching them was akin to rubbing my pussy, half-inch long swollen nipples are something hard to let go, especially if you are a dirty older man in a seedy cinema, no, he twisted them harder, bringing me down onto my knees, bringing my beautiful Scandinavian face in line with his cock, and as my mother used to warm me about putting dirty things into your mouth, the smell and old semen coated cock, could be what she meant, but as all men know, women have a fantastic resilience to what men have on their cocks, their best friends pussy juices, even the contents of their rectums, once the cock gets under your nose and into your mouths, your tongue and saliva will do the rest, and this guys cock was no different, as he banged my head against the kiosk side wall, he was taking no prisoners, I was just glad he was small cocked, as gagging was something I hated.
I stood up shaken, my head thumped and my eyes blurry, he had banged me stupid for five minutes before cumming down my throat, and as I tried to dispel the after-taste of semen and the remnants of previous masturbatory ejaculations, he reached under my short skirt and ripped my cotton panties off, 'You might not need these', he said threateningly, then he reached into my waist and rolled my short dress one roll higher, my bum cheeks now visible as I walked into the darkened theater, he moved behind me feeling their curvature, with the occasional pat.
I sat down not far from a couple of wide-eyed men, his torch lit on my bare breasts, he walked away and stood at the foot of the stairwell, as men rose and moved in my direction.
To be continued, if you dirty men are desperate enough
Posted by MarieL 2 years ago Views: