TheMalevolence
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 7, 2015
- Posts
- 388
Hey guys, I started writing a starter for my first attempt at a LIT story, I'm pretty sure I know what I want the story to be about, but any suggestions would be greatly appreciated as I kind've suck. Positivity, yay! Enjoy!
It's always the same, a lonely Friday night, I sit balanced almost precariously on the end of my bed, naked, it seems... better, that way. Almost as if someone's watching me, somebody I want to please, I'm not just playing with myself, I'm... arousing somebody else, too, somebody different, somebody who wants to give me more than a brief scene in bed and an overly dramatic break up. Always the same, getting home from university, wet, from one of a million different places, the unnaturally hot Social Studies professor, remembering my brief stint with one of the boys sitting a row away from me, or, if I'm desperate enough, porn that I looked up on my phone in my lunch break. Once I even masturbated on campus, in one of the toilet cubicles, I'm not proud of that, I'm not proud of anything sexual I've ever done.It's not just because my parents are religious types who claim that 19 years old is too young for such "devilish" things, but because I've had sex with six men so far, and every single one left me less than a month later.
I'm not, unlikable, am I? All six men asked me out, completely of their own accord, I have long, blonde hair, a well developed chest and , as shameful as it may be, you can probably have me in your bed for a car ride and some cheap wine. Nethertheless, here I am, again, masturbating,the stimulation beginning to push the more depressing thoughts from my mind and replace them with more sexual thoughts; the idea that somebody might be watching, and enjoying, the scene. Maybe even a few submissive thoughts, the idea of putting on a show for them, purely for their pleasure, not for mine, being ordered to cum for this perfect person. I want someone who treats me like dirt, full of orders and harsh words, but makes sure I know he cares for me, deep down. I've never been in a BDSM style relationship, I'd like to, but that usually involves a relationship lasting longer than a few weeks so, no luck there.
I push the thought away, and concentrate on finishing myself off. I'm not too far from an orgasm, I can tell, the juices coming thick and fast from the lining of my softly stimulated pussy. The mysterious watching figure comes back into my mind and, as I quite often do, I make it more interesting for him; responding to the burning sensation in my pussy by punctuating the slow brushes and rubs of my fingertips with loud groans. "I'm going to cum" I moan, to no one in particular, "oh, oh, OH, I'm cumming! Faster! I'm cumming!" I curse myself later for being so literal, sounding so stupid, but for now I'm content to let my moans of pleasure echo throughout the room as I reach my climax, blinding waves of warm pleasure blasting through me, a reward for my noble efforts. A half-minute later I'm led spread-eagled on the bed, my heart rate returning to normal as the effects of the pure sexual ecstasy I've became so addicted to wear off and leave behind a mix of exhaustion, happiness and shame.
It's always the same, a lonely Friday night, I sit balanced almost precariously on the end of my bed, naked, it seems... better, that way. Almost as if someone's watching me, somebody I want to please, I'm not just playing with myself, I'm... arousing somebody else, too, somebody different, somebody who wants to give me more than a brief scene in bed and an overly dramatic break up. Always the same, getting home from university, wet, from one of a million different places, the unnaturally hot Social Studies professor, remembering my brief stint with one of the boys sitting a row away from me, or, if I'm desperate enough, porn that I looked up on my phone in my lunch break. Once I even masturbated on campus, in one of the toilet cubicles, I'm not proud of that, I'm not proud of anything sexual I've ever done.It's not just because my parents are religious types who claim that 19 years old is too young for such "devilish" things, but because I've had sex with six men so far, and every single one left me less than a month later.
I'm not, unlikable, am I? All six men asked me out, completely of their own accord, I have long, blonde hair, a well developed chest and , as shameful as it may be, you can probably have me in your bed for a car ride and some cheap wine. Nethertheless, here I am, again, masturbating,the stimulation beginning to push the more depressing thoughts from my mind and replace them with more sexual thoughts; the idea that somebody might be watching, and enjoying, the scene. Maybe even a few submissive thoughts, the idea of putting on a show for them, purely for their pleasure, not for mine, being ordered to cum for this perfect person. I want someone who treats me like dirt, full of orders and harsh words, but makes sure I know he cares for me, deep down. I've never been in a BDSM style relationship, I'd like to, but that usually involves a relationship lasting longer than a few weeks so, no luck there.
I push the thought away, and concentrate on finishing myself off. I'm not too far from an orgasm, I can tell, the juices coming thick and fast from the lining of my softly stimulated pussy. The mysterious watching figure comes back into my mind and, as I quite often do, I make it more interesting for him; responding to the burning sensation in my pussy by punctuating the slow brushes and rubs of my fingertips with loud groans. "I'm going to cum" I moan, to no one in particular, "oh, oh, OH, I'm cumming! Faster! I'm cumming!" I curse myself later for being so literal, sounding so stupid, but for now I'm content to let my moans of pleasure echo throughout the room as I reach my climax, blinding waves of warm pleasure blasting through me, a reward for my noble efforts. A half-minute later I'm led spread-eagled on the bed, my heart rate returning to normal as the effects of the pure sexual ecstasy I've became so addicted to wear off and leave behind a mix of exhaustion, happiness and shame.
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