ladyadonia30
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 17, 2006
- Posts
- 747
At eleven years old, there I was, curled up in the linen closet in our upstairs bathroom. I don’t know what possessed me to hide in there, I was just doing it. I had to be in there, lying on top of the neatly folded towels, peeking through the brass coated finger hole that is used to slide the door open, for about 10 minutes.
My sister was 16 and dating this guy named Roy. He was 17 and sort of cute. I had crushes at that age, but I was more curious about the male genitalia. I used to think I was abnormal with my obsession for seeing a penis, or watching a man alone.
I heard footsteps coming toward the bath room; the door came open and in walked Roy. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and then fixed a few strands of his dark curly hair.
His back faced me as I heard him unzip his fly. He let a stream of piss fly like a water fall. It poured into the toilet with a loud echo. He had to be holding that forever, I thought to myself. I was hoping to catch a glance of it, to see what it really looked like. I imagined it to be something spectacular.
I patiently watched his rear shake, he was doing something, but I didn’t know what. I waited to hear the zipper on his pants, but I didn’t. Instead, he turned back toward the mirror. I saw this fleshy pink thing hanging from his boxers. It looked small and sort of shriveled. I thought to myself, “That’s it? That’s what they look like?”
It certainly did not seem like something spectacular. I felt disappointed and was ready to hang up on my peeping tom style. However, my interests were perked when I saw his hand pull at the pink thing, stretching it like a wad of silly putty. He looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his hands over his clothed chest, his other hand pulled at the pink thing until it became longer.
“They grow,” I wondered to myself. It was growing. He pulled at it and it looked less like rubber. After a few strokes, it stood firm and curved slightly upward. It didn’t look as pathetic, it looked quite interesting. The tip of it was shaped like a mushroom and the color became more like a dark red, not so felshy pink.
His head tilted back as he stroked at it slowly, his hand slowly moving from the tip to the base. I couldn’t believe how large it had grown, nor could I believe the sensations I was feeling as I watched. I felt myself ache down there and a rolled up towel that was beneath me sort of rubbed at my privates, making the ache more apparent to me.
My one eye was straining to see through the small finger hole, I had to switch eyes. His hand was moving faster on his dick, it would stop occasionally at the head of it, wrapping his index finger and thumb tightly around it as if to put it in a choke hold, then return to fast smooth strokes.
He began to groan silently, his eyes opened every once in a while to watch himself stroke his cock.
My own ache was intense. I wanted to reach down like I did when I was bored at night and play with myself, but I was afraid that if I moved, he would hear me. I eagerly and hungrily watched as his hand moved even faster now, his breathing became more shallow.
The towel beneath me was in perfect position. I sort of rocked my privates on it, until I felt that neat throbbing sensation below. I could feel the blood race to my face, my cheeks felt hot and like they were burning.
Roy gripped at himself harder and faster, and he grabbed onto the sink counter and groaned and grunted like an angry animal. His hand gripped the head of his cock and didn’t move. White stuff came plopping out in strange spurts. With each spurt, he would stroke at it as if to milk it. The white stuff landed on the sink counter, in thick white spatters. Looked kind of like bird poop.
My own throbbing subsided, I could feel my juices wetting the crotch of my panties. My breathing slowed down, as did Roy’s. After a few moments, he whipped his penis off with a piece of toilet paper and stuck it back in his pants. He cleaned off the counter and tossed the tissue in the toilet, flushed it, checked himself out one last time and left.
I climbed out a few minutes later, looked down at the counter where he squirted, looking for a forgotten drop. He cleaned up well after himself.
My sister was 16 and dating this guy named Roy. He was 17 and sort of cute. I had crushes at that age, but I was more curious about the male genitalia. I used to think I was abnormal with my obsession for seeing a penis, or watching a man alone.
I heard footsteps coming toward the bath room; the door came open and in walked Roy. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and then fixed a few strands of his dark curly hair.
His back faced me as I heard him unzip his fly. He let a stream of piss fly like a water fall. It poured into the toilet with a loud echo. He had to be holding that forever, I thought to myself. I was hoping to catch a glance of it, to see what it really looked like. I imagined it to be something spectacular.
I patiently watched his rear shake, he was doing something, but I didn’t know what. I waited to hear the zipper on his pants, but I didn’t. Instead, he turned back toward the mirror. I saw this fleshy pink thing hanging from his boxers. It looked small and sort of shriveled. I thought to myself, “That’s it? That’s what they look like?”
It certainly did not seem like something spectacular. I felt disappointed and was ready to hang up on my peeping tom style. However, my interests were perked when I saw his hand pull at the pink thing, stretching it like a wad of silly putty. He looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his hands over his clothed chest, his other hand pulled at the pink thing until it became longer.
“They grow,” I wondered to myself. It was growing. He pulled at it and it looked less like rubber. After a few strokes, it stood firm and curved slightly upward. It didn’t look as pathetic, it looked quite interesting. The tip of it was shaped like a mushroom and the color became more like a dark red, not so felshy pink.
His head tilted back as he stroked at it slowly, his hand slowly moving from the tip to the base. I couldn’t believe how large it had grown, nor could I believe the sensations I was feeling as I watched. I felt myself ache down there and a rolled up towel that was beneath me sort of rubbed at my privates, making the ache more apparent to me.
My one eye was straining to see through the small finger hole, I had to switch eyes. His hand was moving faster on his dick, it would stop occasionally at the head of it, wrapping his index finger and thumb tightly around it as if to put it in a choke hold, then return to fast smooth strokes.
He began to groan silently, his eyes opened every once in a while to watch himself stroke his cock.
My own ache was intense. I wanted to reach down like I did when I was bored at night and play with myself, but I was afraid that if I moved, he would hear me. I eagerly and hungrily watched as his hand moved even faster now, his breathing became more shallow.
The towel beneath me was in perfect position. I sort of rocked my privates on it, until I felt that neat throbbing sensation below. I could feel the blood race to my face, my cheeks felt hot and like they were burning.
Roy gripped at himself harder and faster, and he grabbed onto the sink counter and groaned and grunted like an angry animal. His hand gripped the head of his cock and didn’t move. White stuff came plopping out in strange spurts. With each spurt, he would stroke at it as if to milk it. The white stuff landed on the sink counter, in thick white spatters. Looked kind of like bird poop.
My own throbbing subsided, I could feel my juices wetting the crotch of my panties. My breathing slowed down, as did Roy’s. After a few moments, he whipped his penis off with a piece of toilet paper and stuck it back in his pants. He cleaned off the counter and tossed the tissue in the toilet, flushed it, checked himself out one last time and left.
I climbed out a few minutes later, looked down at the counter where he squirted, looking for a forgotten drop. He cleaned up well after himself.
Last edited:
