Jacking-Off Log
- Thread starter rosco rathbone
- Start date
- Status
_geisha_
Beautiful Girl™
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2006
- Posts
- 6,997
Normal Post
I'm angry with all of you. and jealous too. yeah. bitches. that's all.
i'll be back here once i can jill again and i'll fill three pages of this thread with nastiness.
bitches.
*reads*
*fidgets*
*considers jilling*
omg I'm so angry!!!!
I'm angry with all of you. and jealous too. yeah. bitches. that's all.
i'll be back here once i can jill again and i'll fill three pages of this thread with nastiness.
bitches.
*reads*
*fidgets*
*considers jilling*
omg I'm so angry!!!!
rosco rathbone
1. f3e5 2. g4??
- Joined
- Aug 30, 2002
- Posts
- 42,431
_geisha_ said:I'm angry with all of you. and jealous too. yeah. bitches. that's all.
i'll be back here once i can jill again and i'll fill three pages of this thread with nastiness.
bitches.
*reads*
*fidgets*
*considers jilling*
omg I'm so angry!!!!
If I had your fingernails, I'd be afraid to jill too.
FnA that was FnAwesome.
Tort - I agree, I would never have sex with that woman either. The bean and I have been together for 10 years and I'll still grab her and throw her down when the urge hits me. Granted, it's a little more difficult with a 4 year old running around but it gets done.
Tort - I agree, I would never have sex with that woman either. The bean and I have been together for 10 years and I'll still grab her and throw her down when the urge hits me. Granted, it's a little more difficult with a 4 year old running around but it gets done.
G
Guest
Guest
naughtygirl69s
Returned from beyond
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2004
- Posts
- 11,022
_geisha_ said:I'm angry with all of you. and jealous too. yeah. bitches. that's all.
i'll be back here once i can jill again and i'll fill three pages of this thread with nastiness.
bitches.
*reads*
*fidgets*
*considers jilling*
omg I'm so angry!!!!
I'm confused
what's the matter sugar?
G
Guest
Guest
G
Guest
Guest
tortoise
roosevelt dime
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2002
- Posts
- 19,336
ForeverNAlways said:I've saved both your entries btw, for later.
If I'm to abide by my promise in OY's thread, I'm going have idle hands on my . . . hands, as it were.
*shivergrowl*
That is the greatest compliment that you could possibly pay those posts. Brings to mind such exquisite images.
It really is such a delicious thing, this thread that the rapscallion has made. Jacking leading to jacking begetting jacking on top of jacking. Metajacking is a beautiful thing.
Last edited:
stirbird
toussled, bird-mad
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2005
- Posts
- 30,689
A couple evenings ago, I happened upon one of Farrell's drawings as I was sorting some of my images. It was one of my favorites.
In the picture, a woman is standing with her blouse opened to expose huge, swollen-looking breats. A doctor or maybe just an intern or male nurse is injecting one of her breasts with saline--directly and painful through the nipple. The breast he is injecting is noticably bigger than the other one. Sitting at his leisure in an easy chair, a middle aged man is pointing toward the scene and laughing his head off. This picture is one of many Farrell drew about a fictional clinic where men sent their wives, daughters, or girlfriends to have parts of their anatomy changed in grotesque and humiliating ways.
When I went to bed, that image was still on my mind, and I found myself masturbating in the bed (a first for me in a couple of years--the few times I do play with myself are usually done sitting up). I rasied myself up on one arm. For me, orgasms are more intense if the upper half of my body is elevated. I imagined myself as the woman in the scene depicted by Farrell. My cruel husband sends me to this clinic two or three times a month to get painful saline injections. His goal, a part of turning me into a bimbo, is to make my tits extremely large, but instead of letting me get implants, he wants the breast-enlargement to be painful, embarassing, and take a very long time. At least he doesn't make me act like a brainless bimbo at the clinic, the way he makes me at home, but he says that is coming. The change in my breast size has caused some profound changes in my life, most noticably at work, where my colleagues, both male and female, have stopped taking me seriously, and snicker behind my back.
I was in a small room with my blouse pulled down waiting for the doctor or intern (it's always a male) to do the dreadfully painful injections. Usually my husband is with me, he hates to miss these apointments, but this time, he just couldn't get away from his job and I am alone. The medical personnel first examine my breasts to see how the last injection is holding up. This involves a lot of squeezing, pinching and fondling, even rolling the nipple around in their mouths, to test "elasticity" and "sensitivity." Once a month, they test to make sure the skin is staying strong despite the stretching . My husband never misses this appointment, as he liked to help them with the tests. First they slap my breasts, hard, back and forth with their heavy hands, making embarassing comments about how they bounce and wiggle as they do this. Then there's some sharp whipping, to see if the skin breaks, then punches, then finally a heavy wooden paddle is taken to them. My breasts are a mass of bruises the next day from this treatment and my throat hoarse from screaming.
An intern comes into the examining room, it's the tall fellow with the condescending sneer that I particularly dislike. He has the huge needle in one hand and grabs my upper arm brusquely with the other. "Come on, Mrs. Thomas, there's a husband of a new patient out in the waiting room and he's worried about his wife. She's just been admitted as in inpatient for several weeks for some very intensive treatment and of course, the clinic rules do not permit him to see her until the end of her stay with us. But I promised him I'd demonstrate some of our procedures to him in order to reassure him."
He dragged me out through the clinic hall at a brisk pace, past nurses and orderlies snickering at the stricken look on my face, and then out into the waiting room, my engorged breasts bare to the world. A middle-aged man is sitting in one of the comfortable easy chairs they provide for the guests. At the sight of me his grim expression cracks into a wide smile.
"Hello Sir, Mrs. Thomas is here having her breast enlargement treatment, similar to one your wife be be receiving. While you can't observe your wife as this time, I thought you still might appreciate seeing how such a process works." Keeping up a smooth patter, the intern swabs my nipple with alcohol and then inserts the needle. He pushes the plunger slowly, watching my face the entire time and smiling. I gasp and start to cry: it hurts worst when they inject through the nipple. I'm also deeply ashamed at having my breasts exposed to the entire clinic and also to this strange man, who is now grinning from ear to ear. I turn my head away in shame from both him and intern, begging the latter to please not take so long this time. At this point, the husband of the interred patient starts to laugh loudly, almost giggling in fact. "Look at that! She's getting a shot right in her nippie!," he shouts and bangs his hand on his thigh. "Heeheehee! Make it last as long as you can, Doctor! This is a treat! Hoohoo! Look at her fat udder swell!"
I blush crimson the strange man's delighted and childish ridicule, I, the award-winning astrophysicist with a brain as sharp as a razor, now being treated like a cheap, stupid whore whose only purpose is to entertain this beastly man. I'm so ashamed and angry at being turned into a piece of meat for his churlish and immature sexual delight! He continues to comment about my expanding tits ("Be careful not to pop 'em, Doc!") and the intern invites him to come over and examine the results when the dreadful injections are finally finished. He does so with great gusto, poking and squeezing ,my teats, pulling on the nipples, while all the time keeping up his infantile patter "Hoho, they're as big and bursting as watermelons. Luckly for you miss, they aren't as long as watermelons, heehee, or you'll have some difficulty driving a car!" He asks the intern about whether they're going to induce lactation in me, and is told that yes, that's part of the long-term plan. I'm shocked: my husband didn't tell me a thing about that! "Oh how I'd like to suckle on this Jersy cow's udders then!" the dreadful little man chortles.
I'm finally allowed to button up my blouse and go home. When my husband arrives a little later, I tell him in great detail (and not inconsiderable wrath) about what happened at the clinic. Instead of sympathizing with me, he gets a really big kick out of my humiliation and pushes me to the kitchen floor, where he fucks me violently, even though we having guests over at any minute and the dinner is in danger of burning. He repeats some of the churl's choicest statements back to me while he screws me. The doorbell rings before he's through, but he finishes very quickly, then insists I go get the door while he takes a shower and dresses for dinner. I swab some napkins between my legs, quickly finger comb my hair, and pray that nobody notices the smell. They will notice the smeared lipstick--there's no time to fix that--but I think quickly and tell a story about how I spilled some hot soup while tasting it.
A couple of months later my breasts are truly enormous and they are constantly sore and leaking milk. One morning I'm naked, bound firmly over a metal bar, my teats attached to the milking machine on the ground for their daily milking. I hear the doorbell ring, and my husband goes to get it. To my shame and anger he brings in that terrible man from the waiting room. The man starts up his gleeful and lewd chatter at the sight of me being milked like a cow, he even tugs playfully on my large thick-gauge nosering, and my husband joins in the talk enthusiastically. Pretty soon, he's showing that awful man my "best" features, including telling him the deeply embarassing and horrifying story of the cattle ranch brand on one buttock. Then, to my dismay and surprise, my husband says casually, "Say, do you want to use the cow while she's bent over being milked? She isn't good for anything else during this time." He's never offered me to another man before! Why this man, and now? I know the answer, of course: my husband remembered every detail of my contemtuous anger toward this particular man, and has decided to take me down a peg (make that several pegs!) by making me sexually service him. This cretinous man, the sight and sound of whom I cannot stand, samples all three of my holes, all the time chatting lustily to my husband about what a fine healthy specimin he owns, except toward then end when he just grunts and says "oh yeah! oh yeah!" rapidly as he squirts in my ass.
This is an old fantasy, as you can probably tell from the detail, and this is just one of the many variations to it, but I don't often make it very far into the story, because the elements of intense pain and, at the same time, grindingly deep humiliation in front of men I consider myself infinitely superior to, always makes me come fast.
In the picture, a woman is standing with her blouse opened to expose huge, swollen-looking breats. A doctor or maybe just an intern or male nurse is injecting one of her breasts with saline--directly and painful through the nipple. The breast he is injecting is noticably bigger than the other one. Sitting at his leisure in an easy chair, a middle aged man is pointing toward the scene and laughing his head off. This picture is one of many Farrell drew about a fictional clinic where men sent their wives, daughters, or girlfriends to have parts of their anatomy changed in grotesque and humiliating ways.
When I went to bed, that image was still on my mind, and I found myself masturbating in the bed (a first for me in a couple of years--the few times I do play with myself are usually done sitting up). I rasied myself up on one arm. For me, orgasms are more intense if the upper half of my body is elevated. I imagined myself as the woman in the scene depicted by Farrell. My cruel husband sends me to this clinic two or three times a month to get painful saline injections. His goal, a part of turning me into a bimbo, is to make my tits extremely large, but instead of letting me get implants, he wants the breast-enlargement to be painful, embarassing, and take a very long time. At least he doesn't make me act like a brainless bimbo at the clinic, the way he makes me at home, but he says that is coming. The change in my breast size has caused some profound changes in my life, most noticably at work, where my colleagues, both male and female, have stopped taking me seriously, and snicker behind my back.
I was in a small room with my blouse pulled down waiting for the doctor or intern (it's always a male) to do the dreadfully painful injections. Usually my husband is with me, he hates to miss these apointments, but this time, he just couldn't get away from his job and I am alone. The medical personnel first examine my breasts to see how the last injection is holding up. This involves a lot of squeezing, pinching and fondling, even rolling the nipple around in their mouths, to test "elasticity" and "sensitivity." Once a month, they test to make sure the skin is staying strong despite the stretching . My husband never misses this appointment, as he liked to help them with the tests. First they slap my breasts, hard, back and forth with their heavy hands, making embarassing comments about how they bounce and wiggle as they do this. Then there's some sharp whipping, to see if the skin breaks, then punches, then finally a heavy wooden paddle is taken to them. My breasts are a mass of bruises the next day from this treatment and my throat hoarse from screaming.
An intern comes into the examining room, it's the tall fellow with the condescending sneer that I particularly dislike. He has the huge needle in one hand and grabs my upper arm brusquely with the other. "Come on, Mrs. Thomas, there's a husband of a new patient out in the waiting room and he's worried about his wife. She's just been admitted as in inpatient for several weeks for some very intensive treatment and of course, the clinic rules do not permit him to see her until the end of her stay with us. But I promised him I'd demonstrate some of our procedures to him in order to reassure him."
He dragged me out through the clinic hall at a brisk pace, past nurses and orderlies snickering at the stricken look on my face, and then out into the waiting room, my engorged breasts bare to the world. A middle-aged man is sitting in one of the comfortable easy chairs they provide for the guests. At the sight of me his grim expression cracks into a wide smile.
"Hello Sir, Mrs. Thomas is here having her breast enlargement treatment, similar to one your wife be be receiving. While you can't observe your wife as this time, I thought you still might appreciate seeing how such a process works." Keeping up a smooth patter, the intern swabs my nipple with alcohol and then inserts the needle. He pushes the plunger slowly, watching my face the entire time and smiling. I gasp and start to cry: it hurts worst when they inject through the nipple. I'm also deeply ashamed at having my breasts exposed to the entire clinic and also to this strange man, who is now grinning from ear to ear. I turn my head away in shame from both him and intern, begging the latter to please not take so long this time. At this point, the husband of the interred patient starts to laugh loudly, almost giggling in fact. "Look at that! She's getting a shot right in her nippie!," he shouts and bangs his hand on his thigh. "Heeheehee! Make it last as long as you can, Doctor! This is a treat! Hoohoo! Look at her fat udder swell!"
I blush crimson the strange man's delighted and childish ridicule, I, the award-winning astrophysicist with a brain as sharp as a razor, now being treated like a cheap, stupid whore whose only purpose is to entertain this beastly man. I'm so ashamed and angry at being turned into a piece of meat for his churlish and immature sexual delight! He continues to comment about my expanding tits ("Be careful not to pop 'em, Doc!") and the intern invites him to come over and examine the results when the dreadful injections are finally finished. He does so with great gusto, poking and squeezing ,my teats, pulling on the nipples, while all the time keeping up his infantile patter "Hoho, they're as big and bursting as watermelons. Luckly for you miss, they aren't as long as watermelons, heehee, or you'll have some difficulty driving a car!" He asks the intern about whether they're going to induce lactation in me, and is told that yes, that's part of the long-term plan. I'm shocked: my husband didn't tell me a thing about that! "Oh how I'd like to suckle on this Jersy cow's udders then!" the dreadful little man chortles.
I'm finally allowed to button up my blouse and go home. When my husband arrives a little later, I tell him in great detail (and not inconsiderable wrath) about what happened at the clinic. Instead of sympathizing with me, he gets a really big kick out of my humiliation and pushes me to the kitchen floor, where he fucks me violently, even though we having guests over at any minute and the dinner is in danger of burning. He repeats some of the churl's choicest statements back to me while he screws me. The doorbell rings before he's through, but he finishes very quickly, then insists I go get the door while he takes a shower and dresses for dinner. I swab some napkins between my legs, quickly finger comb my hair, and pray that nobody notices the smell. They will notice the smeared lipstick--there's no time to fix that--but I think quickly and tell a story about how I spilled some hot soup while tasting it.
A couple of months later my breasts are truly enormous and they are constantly sore and leaking milk. One morning I'm naked, bound firmly over a metal bar, my teats attached to the milking machine on the ground for their daily milking. I hear the doorbell ring, and my husband goes to get it. To my shame and anger he brings in that terrible man from the waiting room. The man starts up his gleeful and lewd chatter at the sight of me being milked like a cow, he even tugs playfully on my large thick-gauge nosering, and my husband joins in the talk enthusiastically. Pretty soon, he's showing that awful man my "best" features, including telling him the deeply embarassing and horrifying story of the cattle ranch brand on one buttock. Then, to my dismay and surprise, my husband says casually, "Say, do you want to use the cow while she's bent over being milked? She isn't good for anything else during this time." He's never offered me to another man before! Why this man, and now? I know the answer, of course: my husband remembered every detail of my contemtuous anger toward this particular man, and has decided to take me down a peg (make that several pegs!) by making me sexually service him. This cretinous man, the sight and sound of whom I cannot stand, samples all three of my holes, all the time chatting lustily to my husband about what a fine healthy specimin he owns, except toward then end when he just grunts and says "oh yeah! oh yeah!" rapidly as he squirts in my ass.
This is an old fantasy, as you can probably tell from the detail, and this is just one of the many variations to it, but I don't often make it very far into the story, because the elements of intense pain and, at the same time, grindingly deep humiliation in front of men I consider myself infinitely superior to, always makes me come fast.
jill_off_alt
Virgin
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2006
- Posts
- 4
When: This evening, after a stressful day at work. Formulated the fantasy as I drove home. Jilled as soon as I got in the door. Of course when I'm getting ready to cum it's hard to stay focused on the fantasy and I just think every dirty, nasty thing possible to hurdle myself over that edge, but that stuff is hard to pin down in words.
-----
There is a young woman at my office who gets under my skin every day. She is the kind of girl who likes to flirt with an older woman because she thinks it’s harmless. She treats me like I'm one of the men, all giggles and furtive glances through her lashes. I always dream that some day I’ll show her what exactly happens when you play with fire.
A group of us goes for drinks after the end of a long week. She is the star of the show, as usual, her firm tits spilling out of her v-neck shirt, face flushed with alcohol and the thrill of attention. As the night draws to a close she complains loudly about the cost of calling a cab in this town, looking around for someone to play white knight. Seeing my chance, I offer her a ride. She is nonplussed, but since no one else is offering she accepts.
She is actually pretty easy to control, and as I drive through the dark streets my excitement builds. I can feel myself getting wet. I easily maneuver the conversation into an invitation into her apartment. The pretext is thin, we both know it. She is nervous and it’s turning me on.
Once inside the apartment she giggling again, flipping her soft blonde hair and looking at me with big doe eyes. I slowly advance; she backs up until she hits a wall. Perfect. I press my body against hers, feeling the soft fullness of her tits against mine. My hands slide around her body to take two handfuls of the ass she proudly shows off in tight black pants. She gasps and I capture her open mouth in a kiss. Her body is rigid, ready to fight me off but in a split second she relaxes, melts into me.
I yank down her pants and press her harder against the wall as my fingers find her pussy, already hot wet and ready for me. I plunge two fingers into her slick cunt and work her clit with my thumb. She makes delicious whimpers. I kiss her deeply, bite her lips and fuck her expertly with my hand. She explores my body under my clothes, first tentatively then boldly demanding. Her knees buckle and she comes for me the first time. She never had a chance.
I let her catch her breath before propelling her to the couch. I strip away the rest of her clothes and bury myself in her breasts, sucking, biting, licking, pinching. Eventually I move down her body to taste her pussy. My own cunt is throbbing for attention. I tease her clit with my tongue and press my thumb against the rosebud of her asshole. She moans a protest, but I know she doesn’t mean it. I bring her to the edge of another trembling orgasm, the muscles in her thighs and belly straining to get more of my mouth. Her hands are tangled in my hair. I stop, move away.
She looks at me, disoriented and pleading. I grin and move her into a 69 position. She doesn’t hesitate, pulling my aching pussy lips open and sliding her tongue over my slit. I push my body against hers and resume my attentions to her snatch. Each time she gets close to cumming I back off, making sure I get mine. She presses a finger, then two into my pussy. My muscles clench and I muffle my groan in her cunt as I cum. She doesn’t stop working my clit with her tongue and the orgasm builds and doubles and I just keep cumming and cumming.
...
When I finally regain my breath I give her a sloppy kiss, rubbing her cut juice on her already dripping face. I dress and leave her lying grinning and pliant on the couch.
-----
There is a young woman at my office who gets under my skin every day. She is the kind of girl who likes to flirt with an older woman because she thinks it’s harmless. She treats me like I'm one of the men, all giggles and furtive glances through her lashes. I always dream that some day I’ll show her what exactly happens when you play with fire.
A group of us goes for drinks after the end of a long week. She is the star of the show, as usual, her firm tits spilling out of her v-neck shirt, face flushed with alcohol and the thrill of attention. As the night draws to a close she complains loudly about the cost of calling a cab in this town, looking around for someone to play white knight. Seeing my chance, I offer her a ride. She is nonplussed, but since no one else is offering she accepts.
She is actually pretty easy to control, and as I drive through the dark streets my excitement builds. I can feel myself getting wet. I easily maneuver the conversation into an invitation into her apartment. The pretext is thin, we both know it. She is nervous and it’s turning me on.
Once inside the apartment she giggling again, flipping her soft blonde hair and looking at me with big doe eyes. I slowly advance; she backs up until she hits a wall. Perfect. I press my body against hers, feeling the soft fullness of her tits against mine. My hands slide around her body to take two handfuls of the ass she proudly shows off in tight black pants. She gasps and I capture her open mouth in a kiss. Her body is rigid, ready to fight me off but in a split second she relaxes, melts into me.
I yank down her pants and press her harder against the wall as my fingers find her pussy, already hot wet and ready for me. I plunge two fingers into her slick cunt and work her clit with my thumb. She makes delicious whimpers. I kiss her deeply, bite her lips and fuck her expertly with my hand. She explores my body under my clothes, first tentatively then boldly demanding. Her knees buckle and she comes for me the first time. She never had a chance.
I let her catch her breath before propelling her to the couch. I strip away the rest of her clothes and bury myself in her breasts, sucking, biting, licking, pinching. Eventually I move down her body to taste her pussy. My own cunt is throbbing for attention. I tease her clit with my tongue and press my thumb against the rosebud of her asshole. She moans a protest, but I know she doesn’t mean it. I bring her to the edge of another trembling orgasm, the muscles in her thighs and belly straining to get more of my mouth. Her hands are tangled in my hair. I stop, move away.
She looks at me, disoriented and pleading. I grin and move her into a 69 position. She doesn’t hesitate, pulling my aching pussy lips open and sliding her tongue over my slit. I push my body against hers and resume my attentions to her snatch. Each time she gets close to cumming I back off, making sure I get mine. She presses a finger, then two into my pussy. My muscles clench and I muffle my groan in her cunt as I cum. She doesn’t stop working my clit with her tongue and the orgasm builds and doubles and I just keep cumming and cumming.
...
When I finally regain my breath I give her a sloppy kiss, rubbing her cut juice on her already dripping face. I dress and leave her lying grinning and pliant on the couch.
Last edited:
bridgeburner
threadkiller
- Joined
- Dec 5, 2001
- Posts
- 2,712
stirbird said:
fuck. Fuck! FUCK!
Jesus, Bird! I want your mind movies for a masturbatory aid. And I'm furious because I'm expecting company at any moment now and don't have time to jack. Clinical setting, sadistic medics, humiliation, breast torture, lactation, objectification and the loaning out of the woman's body to leering, jeering buffoons --- and she never gets aroused nor enjoys it. Hell, that hits all my buttons with a mallet.
This day is going to be interminable.
Olivia_Yearns
funny
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2006
- Posts
- 6,230
you raise the bar and you soak me. Also, you take down walls to places where I expected to be always and only alone. For all the things that worry me about very young people overexposed to pornography, if I had had internet when I was much younger, and found a woman posting like you, I would have felt so much relief and been saved so much pain.stirbird said:
tortoise
roosevelt dime
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2002
- Posts
- 19,336
stirbird said:This is an old fantasy, as you can probably tell from the detail, and this is just one of the many variations to it, but I don't often make it very far into the story, because the elements of intense pain and, at the same time, grindingly deep humiliation in front of men I consider myself infinitely superior to, always makes me come fast.
jill_off_alt said:
*growling, adjusting*
I can't say it enough. I fucking love this thread.
YaYa_Sisterwho
Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2006
- Posts
- 44
rimmy said:
In everything... I've done... I've wanted to find someone who would do that to me... not give a damn how much I screamed... cried... twisted... tried to pull away...
Someone who would spank me until I couldn't walk... Someone who would show me what a spanking should really be.
Olivia_Yearns
funny
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2006
- Posts
- 6,230
I sort of feel like putting my hand up. I cry easily. I find the idea of spanking very very erotic. I've never been spanked. I hope I fall in love with a man who wants to spank me sometimes, and who is as turned on by spanking as you are. Though I'm not anal, I love attention to my bum cheeks - pinch, slap or grab.rimmy said:
But if I masturbate to a spanking fantasy, the words are very very important. He has to talk to me. And for at least part of it, I have to be on his lap, so I can feel him hard against me.
- Status
