I need a sex scene...

[elsol]

It must be:

a) Written by a female author
b) Written in the First Person
c) Be a masturbation scene
d) Use no toys

I don't care if the story is good, bad, or what have you as I'm only going to read the masturbation scene.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
ElSol

 

[damppanties]

It must be:

a) Written by a female author
b) Written in the First Person
c) Be a masturbation scene
d) Use no toys

I don't care if the story is good, bad, or what have you as I'm only going to read the masturbation scene.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
ElSol

Have two (at least, maybe more) but they're in the third person.

Edit: This is a mixture of third and first person. Don't ask me how. The third person is from her POV. Might help.

 

[English Lady]

Here you go, this is taken from my story "Not what you see, what you feel." It's not perfect, but I think it's what you want.

Later that evening as I reclined in my bath, warm, bubble filled, scented water enveloping me, I thought back to that meeting on the bus. I thought about the wonderful, thick blond hair belonging to Paul and how fantastic it would feel beneath my fingers. I remembered the twinkle in his eye, the lustre of lust and the glimpse of yet to be discovered delights hidden in their depths. I could feel his hand in mine; I could see his crotch in front of me. Was I imaging it or was there a bump beneath that thick material?

I let my fingers wander as my mind began to fantasise. My mind pictured Paul on top of me in the aisle of the bus, his jeans around his knees, my dress up around my waist. I imagined his cock plunging into my wetness as I furiously pumped two fingers into my needful pussy beneath the bubbly hot bath water. As I smothered my burgeoning nubs with slowly popping rose scented bubbles I imagined his chest pressing down on my ample bosom, my nipples hot and sensitive sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body.

I felt Paul’s buttocks in my hands and squeezed them, felt the softness of his skin, the tautness of his muscles as he continued to fill me with his prick, thrusting it deep making me gasp and moan with pleasure. As I moved my fingers to my clit gently rubbing at it I imagined Paul moaning my name. My breathing became heavier, my body twisting and writhing made the water slop out of the tub, extinguishing several candles with a fizzing noise and plunging my bathroom into darkness. A sharp image then flashed before my eyes of Paul's face contorted in orgasm making my body tightened as my release exploded from my clit and permeated through me. My legs clamped shut around my hand, my finger pressed hard against my button as I let out a loud scream that resonated around the bathroom.

 

[elsol]

Here you go, this is taken from my story "Not what you see, what you feel." It's not perfect, but I think it's what you want.

Later that evening as I reclined in my bath, warm, bubble filled, scented water enveloping me, I thought back to that meeting on the bus. I thought about the wonderful, thick blond hair belonging to Paul and how fantastic it would feel beneath my fingers. I remembered the twinkle in his eye, the lustre of lust and the glimpse of yet to be discovered delights hidden in their depths. I could feel his hand in mine; I could see his crotch in front of me. Was I imaging it or was there a bump beneath that thick material?

I let my fingers wander as my mind began to fantasise. My mind pictured Paul on top of me in the aisle of the bus, his jeans around his knees, my dress up around my waist. I imagined his cock plunging into my wetness as I furiously pumped two fingers into my needful pussy beneath the bubbly hot bath water. As I smothered my burgeoning nubs with slowly popping rose scented bubbles I imagined his chest pressing down on my ample bosom, my nipples hot and sensitive sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body.

I felt Paul’s buttocks in my hands and squeezed them, felt the softness of his skin, the tautness of his muscles as he continued to fill me with his prick, thrusting it deep making me gasp and moan with pleasure. As I moved my fingers to my clit gently rubbing at it I imagined Paul moaning my name. My breathing became heavier, my body twisting and writhing made the water slop out of the tub, extinguishing several candles with a fizzing noise and plunging my bathroom into darkness. A sharp image then flashed before my eyes of Paul's face contorted in orgasm making my body tightened as my release exploded from my clit and permeated through me. My legs clamped shut around my hand, my finger pressed hard against my button as I let out a loud scream that resonated around the bathroom.

Thank You EL.

Sincerely,
ElSol

 

[TheEarl]

It must be:

a) Written by a female author
b) Written in the First Person
c) Be a masturbation scene
d) Use no toys

I don't care if the story is good, bad, or what have you as I'm only going to read the masturbation scene.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
ElSol

Just out of interest, how come?

The Earl

 

[elsol]

Just out of interest, how come?

The Earl

Doing a female masturbation scene in a Mind Control story

The controller doesn't leave anything to chance so he dictates what she feels, but I don't do fem-masturbation in my stories.

Sincerely,
ElSol

 

[English Lady]

Thank You EL.

Sincerely,
ElSol

My pleasure

 

[herecomestherain]

Nice one English Lady

Here's a scene from one of my stories --

At this moment, Nick was the only person I could think about. He lay with the delicious firm curve of his buttocks central to the pose, the low light casting deep shadows, creating sharp contrasts against the warmth of his skin. The bedding was delightfully rumpled into a thousand complex creases adding texture and contrast around his beautiful smooth body. Oh, those suggestively rumpled sheets had me hot every time I looked at them, even if they were going to be hell to paint when the time came. They spoke in no uncertain terms of sex; vital, vigorous, physical sex.

Ironically I had created a clever illusion, for the only sex those sheets had seen recently was of the solo kind. After the last time Nick had been here in my studio home, posing on that very bed, driving me crazy with that beautiful body, I'd had to take things in to my own hands literally. With the image of his handsome sweet face and that dangerous body firmly in my head, I'd pulled my skirt up and thrust my fingers into my wetness, desperate to relieve the delicious ache that had distracted me all afternoon. I lay exactly where his body had been; turning over I had nuzzled my face down into the sheets, my lips and nose seeking some tiny trace of him.

I lay on my belly, hand trapped in my panties picturing myself under his body, his thick cock thrusting deep inside me from behind. Moans and lewd, wet sounds would fill the room. It would be one of those long slow fucks, a maddening "keep me on the edge" kind of fucks that would have me arching back begging for more, grinding my ass against his body. He'd be crazy with desire for me, breathing hard, holding my hips very tightly, pushing hard into my wet pussy until he too would be overwhelmed by the pleasure of it.

Over and over, my fingers had rubbed at my swollen clit, imagining that they were his. I'd slicked the creamy juice over that tiny hard bump of flesh, pushing my ass up, offering myself up to my pretend lover, rubbing faster and faster until there had been no stopping, no going back, just a rush of pure exquisite pleasure.

Now as I stood a little way away from the bed, drinking in the beauty of him, I absentmindedly wondered if he could perhaps smell the scent of me on those sheets.