So this is not really a confession but more of a "problem" that I am having. I have a very close friend and fuck buddy that has daughter that recently became a teen a few months back. Now while me and my friend try to always call or get together whenever she doesn't have either of her daughters, sometimes her oldest is home since her father passed away shortly after she was born. Now ever since me and my friend have gotten to the fuck buddy stage her daughter has seemed to look at me as a sort of father figure. I don't mind that at all as she is very sweet and never had a constant male figure in her life other than her grandfathers. And as careful as me and her mother (aka the fuck buddy) thought we were being, apparently it hasn't been careful enough. I received a text message from the daughter that is a bit troublesome. Now just to point out, while I love the fact of having a fairly constant fuck buddy, I would like it to be a bit more permanent. Its been a few years and we are both still single. She knows that I want to take to a dating/living together relationship. Well, the teen daughter messaged me saying, "I know how you want to date my mom more seriously and be more than just sneaking over here late at night like you do sometimes. And I know that whenever I am at my grandparents you are over alot. I'm not stupid and you and mom aren't as clever and quiet as you think you may be. I don't know why she doesn't want to be with you all the time seeing as how whenever you are here to help out, she is so much happier. But I have a question for you. If mom continues not wanting to be serious with you, can you do to me what you do to her? I hope you aren't mad at me for asking you. Message me back soon since mom isn't home from work yet."
I am at a total loss as to how I should handle this. Because for one, if I show her mom (aka my fuck buddy and hope to soon be girlfriend) that message, I have no idea how she will view that. Secondly, that she will think I somehow instigated a conversation with her daughter. Thirdly, if it be the death nail in what her and I currently have and then for certain any hope for a future relationship. And I don't want to hurt the daughters feelings and make it seem like I am rejecting her but rather that it is not appropriate for someone her age to say and act that way. She is a great kid and I don't want to hurt her or her mom as well. They already have a hard time getting along as it is. Teens thinking they know all and want to be so grown up so early. Maybe venting this here will help me figure out how to handle this situation. I have a feeling I am going to need alot of luck here in sorting it all out.

I’ve got a hot cousin and I didn’t know it till our grandma died.

My family wasn't close with the other relatives. They lived 12 hours away, across a lot of states. Snow dumped on us every year, much like how my mom’s siblings used to dump on her as kids, and they were basking in the sun complaining of freezing fingers when it’s sweatshirt weather, you know? We visited my grandparents' at Christmas every year and if the schedules coincided, I’d see a few relatives. I don’t know most of their names. I’ve got 30 cousins including wives and second cousins (that’s the kid of a cousin, right?).

So after my grandma was done fighting cancer, we had a funeral. It was really sad and I don’t mean to cheapen the sentiment with literotica, but this was the first time I saw many of my cousins and learned a lot of names that I’ve forgotten since. But not Arya’s.

Arya is not her real name. I’m a Game of Thrones fan and GoT has a bit of incest and Arya’s my favorite character and so why not call my hot cousin Arya? It’s kind of close to her actual name. I’ll be changing everyone’s names to whatever, but Arya gets a special explanation for hers. She deserves it.

I drove the 3 hours from college to my parent’s then another 5 to my grandparents’ town. I was a mess. It hadn’t hit emotionally, but I was low energy in the midst of studying for finals next week and this was the first funeral I’d been to since I was 8 and went in my spiderman pajamas. Basically I didn’t have funeral clothes.

When we showed up, I was in a dark shirt and jeans, looking somber, till a relative I didn’t know, this fat bustling aunt in a floral print shirt, came up to hug my mom then my dad then me. She knew me! “Oh, James,” she said as she smothered me. “You’re so big now.” She was warm and friendly so I put on a big smile as I said, “Hi…”

Luckily my mom saved me and said, “I’m going to talk to your Aunt Sarah. Will you go put our coats down?”

My relatives are country folk living in the South. They’ve all got that accent. I’m more of a city guy. And I felt a little uncomfortable, maybe superior in my arrogance, around these bumpkins. And I’m generally shy.

So I sat in the fold out metal chairs with my parents’ coats and just kind of looked around, uncomfortable, and checked my phone. My college girlfriend had recently decided we were better friends than anything else. Which was fine and all, but well, I didn’t want to text her about this. It’d probably guilt her into some comfort sexting, but I wasn’t feeling so bold at the time. Now years later, well, different story. I think I just opened Angry Birds and played a few games while sitting in front of the closed casket. It was adorned with a wreath and there was a corkboard of photos of her at all ages, though most were her as Grandma. And a group of people I didn’t recognize examined the photos, blocking my view. They were dressed appropriately in dark suits or dresses.

The group came over and asked who I was and asked if I was so-and-so’s kid and I was and I asked who they were and who their parents were and all that. It was three girls and two guys. One of the girls and both guys were my cousins, and you could see the family resemblance, round-face, curly hair, pudgy, and the other girls were their dates. I didn’t know anyone brought dates to a wake. But I felt okay again having checked out the ladies’ asses, though one had been my cousin’s.

We talked for a little bit about the last time I saw them. A Christmas when we were kids, though one swore it was Thanksgiving but I told him, “No, no, we always have Thanksgiving at home.”

That kind of turned them off.

We were the family that never visited. All of them lived near my grandparents, and when my grandma got sick, all pitched in. All my family did was offer to pay bills till it got to the end then Mom came for a visit.

Anyway, they walked away to talk to other cousins.

I was in my early 20s and so were those cousins, but we had older ones. And this man in his 30s with curly hair and a little extra fat especially on his cheeks entered with this stunning blonde, I assumed he was my cousin.

Oh no.

They came up the corkboard, attached one of their photos, and I introduced myself and asked him who he was related to.

He was this bumbling guy. “Well, her. Ha, ha. I mean, we’re in a relationship—married, so I guess her.”

The stunning woman in this tight black dress that was strapless and squeezed her breasts so the pendant of her silver necklace rested in her sun-kissed cleavage complete with tanlines from a bikini laughed and said, “I’m Dana’s daughter. Arya.”

Dana was the oldest of my mom’s siblings and had gotten pregnant in high school, or maybe right after.

“Who are you?” she asked.

I told her and she said, “Oh! Remember when I was testing my make-up on you? Why is that so fun to do to little boys tied up? God, I must’ve been in high school then and you were maybe in Kindergarten?”

“I think I’m repressing that memory,” I told her.

“Aw, was it that traumatizing? You were crying…”

“You know kids. Always crying till someone kisses it better.”

“I tried that!” She didn’t have an accent. That awful Southern rural accent. Sorry, but you’re talking like Huck Finn, it’s hard to sound educated. It drives me nuts. But she had shed hers.

“You’d think I’d remember that.” I was smiling a lot. You know when you meet someone and it just clicks and you want it to click because hey, they’re hot? That’s how it was and because I had no relationship with her prior, ogling her, flirting a little, smiling like an idiot didn’t feel wrong. But doing all of that at a wake for our grandma did. “It’s too bad about Grandma,” I said.

She hugged me. I hugged back. Then her husband joined in and it got uncomfortable.

My parents came round and said, “Sorry about his clothes. He’s fresh from college—second year half way done! And he grew out of all his dress clothes.”

Arya volunteered to take me. “I don’t know where I’m going or anything, but I’ll get him looking spiffy. We can catch up.”

When we got in her car, a used Lincoln, probably fancy a decade ago but now all it boasted was a large backseat and seat warmers, she let her hair down from its tie. “Oh god thank you for coming under dressed. We’re just going to cruise for a bit because I can’t be in there mingling with Tom, Dick, Harry, whatever their names are. Right after high school, I got a scholarship to Florida and never wanted to go back. All those hick accents!”

“Yeah!” I said. “Like Huckleberry Finn!”

“Sure…”

“You know, Tom Sawyer. Deep Missouri Valley country hick accent. Sorry, I’m an English major.”

“And you’re smart! You are the blessing of this trip. I don’t really read so no clue what you’re talking about but keep talking. It’s helping me unclench for the first time since hearing I’d have to come.”

So we talked in the car about how awful the family was, the cousins, aunts, uncles, their divorces. She knew a lot of scandals I hadn’t heard like one of our uncles was in prison for a sexual offense, but even she didn’t know what. He wasn’t here today. Another was a junkie, in and out of rehab. Then we got to grandma and grandpa and both agreed they were the only good parts of the family.

“Other than us, of course,” I said.

“You’re definitely a blessing.”

“And blessed to be in this car.” I meant to imply with her more strongly, but something snapped me out of the flirty attitude, and I added, “Away from them.”

She smiled at me and we got quiet for a bit and she turned on the radio as we drove through the small town. It was near Christmas. Decorations were up. There wasn’t any snow. I told her we got like two feet last week and still had classes. She asked where I went to college. I told her to visit any time she wanted. I found out she was a helicopter medical evac personnel. She didn’t fly the helicopter, but she was the nurse or paramedic in back treating whomever.

Finally we got to a shop that sold suits and dresses. One stop fancy shopping. I had my mom’s credit card, but I didn’t think she intended to get me a full-on suit. It’d be my first. But Arya told me we were just getting the off-the-rack stuff. It wouldn’t be too much.

So I tried on some things she picked out and I came out of the dressing room still doing up my belt because the pants were too wide at the waist and were just sliding down off and dragging on under the heels of the dress shoes. We looked at how deflated I looked in the mirror.

“Get those off and we’ll get you the next size down.” She rolled down the waist to see the tag and what size they were. “I’ll bring you the next ones.”

I went back in the dressing room and took them off. I was just in my boxers and undershirt when she came in. Just barged on in through the swinging doors. I tried being natural about it, like I wasn’t uncomfortable or having dirty thoughts, but then she whipped out the measuring tape. “Put these on.” I did and she started measuring my seams. The outer one first. She told me to stop fidgeting as she was on her knees touching my thigh. Then the inner seem. “I used to work in one of these suit shops during college. The way we measured our special customers was to do the right in-seam, then cup *it* and move it over and measure the other side.” She laughed at the joke (I think she was kidding) and I thought about our dead grandmother so I wouldn’t twitch beneath the pants.

Then she helped me on the shirt and I buttoned all but the top two. She looked at it and buttoned them both, then unbuttoned the top. It was a little too big so she told me to get it off and before it was off, she starts pressing up against me trying to get at the tag in the collar to see the neck size. I think it was like 17 ¾.

She came back with a smaller shirt for me and a few dresses for her. They were a little more modest than the little black dress she had squeezed into. “I’m almost as unprepared for funerals as you. I bought this for a dinner party and a self-esteem boost. Sometimes you pay extra for that.”

I was shirtless and she was looking at herself in the mirror, checking herself out, and I was thinking she shouldn’t need to pay for it looking like she does.

Curvy and sun-kissed and blonde and tall and just perfect. The kind of girl you get a crush on even if you’ve just met her and found out she’s your cousin.

And I felt her back against me. “Oh sorry,” she said. Right against my crotch. With that perfect ass.

I couldn’t help it! I might have rubbed up against her a little with my erection.

“Is that what I think it is?” she said, laughing nervously but not moving away.

“Sorry.” I also stayed there.

“No, thank you for the compliment. Okay, I’m going to try these on now.”

I stayed, confused, horny, hopeful.

“Wait out there? I’ll be real quick.”

Damn. So I sat in the chair outside, hoping it’d subside, when she came out and we paid for everything and got in her car and left.

I was feeling pretty embarrassed that I’d “made a move.” Yeah that was the best move I had. Pressing against her like it was an accident, but both of us probably knowing it wasn’t. She knew. She kicked me out as she changed. She didn’t even try them on for me or any other little hints. The drive back was quiet. Awkward.

And when the funeral home was in sight, we pulled off onto a dirt road. This was a farming town with a lot of forests and field entrances and just places that a high schooler might go with his girl to makeout. She pulled into the dead end where we were covered in shade, just past a bend so we could hear trucks drive past on the main road, but not see them.

“Okay, we better do this before getting there,” she said.

My hope was restored.

Then she added, “Get changed.”

Hope tarnished.

“50 people talking about the dead, suddenly sad, rushing to the bathrooms. There’s no way we could change there. And wouldn’t want to do it in the parking lot where someone would see.”

“Sure, a relative seeing would be awkward,” I said.

“Yeah?” she said laughing.

“Yeah…”

“Then let’s make it awkward.”

I don’t know what she was thinking or what she imagined would come of it or what I should’ve done, but she stripped off that top awful fast. Let those breasts loose. No bra. A black thong. And I stared and she stared back and I started getting my shirt off and pants and I reached for my new clothes but she pulled something from her bag. New boxer-briefs. Real tight ones. She just threw them at me. Once I was naked she looked at me, erect, then stared me in the eyes. She was still naked except for that thong. I don’t want to forget the shape of her breasts, the size, how the tan-lines colored them, how they jiggled, her ass, the birthmark or any of that, but that was years ago. Details fade, get edited. I think her tits are bigger in my head now.

But her devilish smile. I can’t forget that.

Finally, she said, “Let’s get those clothes on. They’ll be calling soon, wondering if we ditched.”

And it was over. She dressed. I got a little peek at that booty, but not much, and when we went in for the wake, her dressed more modestly, my erection hidden till we got to the service and it died down. My mom and her siblings and my grandfather gave their eulogies and I cried and we buried grandma. Then we all went to lunch at some diner where even the table was greasy.

I wanted to sit by my cousin, but I had to sit by my parents and they wanted to sit by some fat aunt that kept asking about my future and so on.

I didn’t get to talk to my cousin till it was time to leave. “I’m serious about coming to visit. Any time you want. It’s beautiful in the fall. All the leaves changing.”

“Sure, sure,” she said.

“Or the spring is good. Tons of flowers. Ever heard of Dutch pantaloons? It might be a local name, but they make the campus smell so much better. Hides the BO and stale weed stench.”

“I’ll think about it.” God, she had to have smelled my desperation for more, but she wasn’t obliging. Fine, I can take a hint. A woman says no, you just have to let go, right?

“Have a safe trip,” I said and waved like I was leaving.

But she pulled me in for a hug, saying “You too,” then when I was pressed up against that perfect tanned body, she heaved her hot breath into my ear and said, “Think about me some time…”

Oh I have… a lot.

i have a confession
When i was a little kid i got abused by my uncle,we were neighbors and when our rents were out of the house we usually ended up at the Aunts house.
My "uncle" was married to my fathers sister,he has 2 daughters,(my cousins got abused as well).
Recently i started to deal with my issues talking to my girlfriend,she is an amazing woman in every sense.
So thanks to her telling me about her past,i learned to deal with mine.
Anyways,when i was about 4 he used to lay in bed with boxers,(witch i hate just the sight of them today).
He was buddy buddy with my father (another idiot),and i think they got the kicks with children.
I remember a few incidents where i was laying in bed with him and he will put some jelly on his dick and made me lick it off,i was so young that i didnt know what was sexual and what was not.
Then will put some on his toes as well, and made me lick it off.
This went on for a year or so.
I even remember some instances of my father watching,but those are more vague like a dream in my head. (maybe cause i dont want to believe it)
Until i told my grandfather when i saw him peeing that his toe was larger then my uncle's.
He grabbed me and got down to his knees and asked me,who told you that the penis was called a "toe".
So i told him what i did to my uncle,and he started to cry,then he grabbed his shotgun and drove me to my house,(next to my uncle's).
Later that night my father came and had a talk with me,about sex,i was only 5 years old!. But he didnt feel bad or anything about shit,he just gave me the talk.
But since that night i felt that my family has cast me out of everything,felt guilty for getting people in trouble,so i retreated to be a very introverted person.
Then after the years went by,i became a teenager with my hormones raging all the time.
Well.. i got to live for a short period of time with my Aunt i always flirted with her,and she did with me,i got to see her naked plenty of times,and she would not mind at all if i was looking at her.
I touched her breast many times but never did anything sexual with her,she probably got turned on thinking of me masturbating to her.
But then again,i didnt pursue her much,i was more in to flirting with my cousin,she was older then me,and what happen one night led to the other one,
With me getting a blow job from her, inside of the closet.
The great part about this story is that i got caught by her dad,he flipped the fuck out.
I remember him so mad and red,spitting saliva like a mad men,he was yelling at her to the top of his lungs.
Then he turned to me,cussing me out and grabbing my arm like he wanted to rip it off my socket,and said wtf is this shit,how long this has been going on?.
And i said to him, this was the first time i made her suck my "toe".
He started to puke and i ran out of the room.
Never the less i got a beat down from my father when i he came to pick me up from my grandpa's home.
I am almost 40 now,and it took me this long to realize how my childhood fucked me up in every sense,i was never able to be intimate with anybody,i never felt wrong for having sex with too many women,always treated them like pieces of meat,and i never let anybody get too close to me,i am a loner and i suck being around people,Now i have a girlfriend in my life,and well i just want to thank her for making me fall in love and making me deal with my issues, that is the most beautiful experience in life.

It's Thunder and It's Lightning (Find You, Find Daddy)

A wise and patient mentor/teacher with whom I've recently become acquainted expressed an interest in what I truly enjoy; what satisfies me in the deepest way, sexually, perversely-- what my kinks are. Words and phrases occurred as thoughts developed, as usual for me. As I continued to free-associate and add more, it dawned on me that the seeds of my contentment were planted with my first sexual experiences. Only one person has heard this story and this is the first time I've written it down. This is for you, my inspiring new friend. Thank you. Everyone else, I hope this helps you (Daddies and their Good Girls) get to the core of your and your partners' kinks, too.

---

First Time: Start of a journey in search of a permanent Daddy

Our fatherless house (he was gone by the time I was three) was packed for the High Holy Days one year. My cousin (distant, by marriage of his grandmother to a sibling of my grandfather) was sleeping in the twin bed across from mine in my room, and this thrilled me because I had a mad crush on him. In my inexperienced head he was Davy Jones. He, of course, was oblivious to my crush, though he did treat me sweetly, just... well, as you would a cousin you'd known since birth and thought was a pretty good girl.

I woke up late one night to the kind of Louisiana thunder and lightning and crashes that sounded... instead of foisting some fraught simile on you, I'll just tell you that thunder and lightning frightened me for a brief period early on in my life, and so I leapt into his bed, startling the crap out of him in the process. I clung to him like Velcro and he stroked my back and whispered inconsequential, comforting sounds and words into my hair and onto my face and neck. He was lovely and tender, as one would be with an irrationally frightened girl. He was also strong and reassuring-- his touches confident and protective (and completely paternal in the moment).

Feeling him hardening under me as I rocked on him, I was completely unaware of why he would be. I'm certain, now, that his physical response was at first involuntary. In a cotton nightgown and panties, I'd thrown myself onto him, straddling him with my face buried in his neck, my hands grasping and arms wrapping as best I could around him, and I'd been slowly, subtly rocking up and down, forward and backward. He wore shorts and an LSU t-shirt, so there was little between my body and his. And, perhaps he'd already been semi-hard. Most of the men I've slept with become tumescent during their sleep, off and on throughout the night. Anyway...

The awareness that my little pussy was resting and rubbing slightly off-center on his hardness grew in my fevered head as the fear started subsiding. The rocking was making me feel so surprisingly good, I shifted a bit so that the hard thing was between my little lips, and then intensified my movements. His big, strong hands tightened on my body where they rested; his warm, sweet breath quickening and washing over me in bigger waves; his words lost in soft, unintelligible whispered moans.

Suddenly, I felt his arms tense up in a different way, as if he were going to push me away and in instinctive reaction, I clung tighter to him, moving faster and harder against him to make the pleasure come more acutely for me. I didn't understand what was happening, but I did not want this to end, nor did I understand why he was thinking about moving me off of him or what he might be feeling.

His hands moved down to my buttocks and he began sliding me vertically with more pressure, elongating my movements, pulling and pushing me along his hardness. The new, intense sensations became almost excruciating for me in their perfect, delicious pitch. His voice, whispering familiar words and words I'd never heard before; the subtle scent of his cologne; his smoky sweet breath on my hair and face; the warmth of his lithe body and sheen of sweat... God, just writing about it, now pulls me under and I'm drowning in the heat.

My first orgasm spread out of the center of me, suddenly, unexpectedly, shockingly, oh so sweetly right there on his hard cock (I now knew what the word meant). Overwhelmed with sensation and emotion, tears flowing down my face, I didn't realize what it was he was experiencing in the moment, but he followed shortly, his fingers in my mouth, his hand holding my head so he could see my eyes, his soft moans whispering my name, breath washing over my face, and filling my mouth, nose and lungs. I saw what I at first thought was fear, and maybe some of it was... and then a kind of sneering joy (he smiled, but the way his lips curled, it looked like a sneer, but his eyes were so joyful and ecstatic)... and then the release, as if someone let him up from under water and I was his little life raft.

---

Still, to this day, I prefer this kind of sex-- regardless of position, I love to feel my lover's cock between my lips, but not inside of me, though I do love that too. I'm that girl in those moments. Yet, I have no desire to revert or to pretend or to babytalk or to be that girl. I just am, inside. Sometimes older, sometimes just the age that I am. But always, that me in utter ecstasy or arousal... on the inside of the inside. And, still, to this day, I return to this memory (and others of him) often, when I masturbate.

So much of everything I am is wrapped up in my relationship with him. For example, the reason music and sex are so deeply intertwined for me is that he owned a record store downtown and would bring me cutouts and new records he thought I'd like or that he wanted me to like. He spoke with me about music the way one would speak with a peer. He's the reason I discovered Creem and Rolling Stone, and the reason I later owned two music magazines, my own label and booking/management company. And, still many of my friends are musicians or are in the music industry.

Our sexual relationship (friction, masturbation and oral sex, only) ended about 3 years later when he married. He was adorable, really. He lifted me up onto a table and explained to me how things were going to change, but that he would always love his "little old lady."

With him, I'd always felt safe, secure, protected and cherished, which in turn made me feel brave, strong and that I could do anything-- be anything. He treated me always with affection and kindness, and I realize now that I wanted to please him in every way-- even when he wasn't around-- in return for his love and attention.

I was devastated and heartbroken by the loss of him, when he finally returned from his honeymoon. It was only then that I realized he would never be alone with me, again. Subsequently, I began running away from home, hitchhiking to New Orleans and back and then around the country-- never knowing for what precisely it was I was searching, but experiencing adventures that most people never experience in three lifetimes.

With retrospect, these experiences and this ever-evolving long journey eventually helped me know that I need a Daddy. Learning where my desires began is helping me define exactly what I require from a man, should he step up-- and more importantly, to be able to recognize him, when he does.

XOXOX,
Rain

PS: The title is pilfered from We Were Promised Jetpacks.

I want to confess that i have had sex with my older sister. She's 26 years old, straight blond hair, big busty tits and a nice plump ass. I'm only 19. It started off like this...

My Aunt and Uncle have come over to stay for Christmas, along with my grandmother and grandfather. So my sister had to bunk with me in my room. Now i've never had sexual feelings for my sister before this incident, but what's about to happen next still makes my body quiver. So i came home from my friend's house, it was pretty late and my house was dark and quiet. I was mad late. So i snuck into my house, walked into my room and saw her lying across it with a tight tee and shorty shorts that hugged the rim of her ass cheeks perfectly. Mmm, the site was intoxicating. I stood there in the doorway surprised to see her laying there like that.

"You're gonna be so busted when mom and dad find out." she said mockingly.

I just told her they don't have to know about it, followed by what the hell are you doing in my room. She told me the situation and i was shocked, pissed even. I have to share my room with my sister for the entire month of December until New Years Day. So i tried to make the best of it. I stripped down to my boxers and a night tee and crawled into bed, i was so tired from playing Xbox all night with my buddies and i just wanted to pass out.

So as i laid there trying to fall asleep, my sister sighs and says; "It's a shame i have to sleep here with you. Because i usually always sleep naked and rub one out before going to sleep." My eyes snapped open and i couldn't believe she was telling me this. All she did was look over at me and laughed. Then leaning in closer to me and giggling; "What's wrong? You like thinking of me rubbing on my clit, until i cum, huh? Bro?" she teased and nudged me.

I acted as if it was a turn off. But who the hell am i kidding? She's a complete fox. So the night went on and it was a restless one. It's gotta be like three in the morning and she rolls over on her stomach and says "Hey, Bro, can you give me a back rub, my back's killing me." I really didn't want to. I mean all i really wanted to do was continuing sleeping, but like a schmuck i nodded and agreed. Hauling my body up, i moved over to her and began rubbing her back. She told me to stop for a second and then took off her top. I was immediately sprouting hard wood in my boxers.

My cock was hard and throbbing. I bit my lip and tried to remember she's family, but all my senses were telling to do the nasty. Fighting through temptation i kept the back-rub professional. As i moved my hand down to the arch of her back, i heard her slightly moaning. Then noticed that her ass was gyrating into the bed. "Hey, can you go a little bit lower?" she whimpered. So i moved my hand down the lower part of her back, to the beginning of her ass. "Lower" she moaned. So i guided my hand on her ass. She began to gyrate more fiercely now. Not able to contain herself anymore she squealed out, "Oh, just pull these shorts off and eat me! Please, i need you to eat my pussy, bro!" She didn't need to tell me twice.

I rolled her onto her back and pulled those shorts off. There my sister laid on her back, legs spread wide open and her warm, wet pussy awaited my mouth. A nice neatly well trimmed bush just above her sexy cunt. As i leaned downward towards her pussy, the heat coming off of it was so goddamn hot i just shoved my mouth into her crotch. My tongue slithering deep into her slip, lapping my tongue up and down and then ever so sightly sucking on her clit as i fingered her.

Slow and steady at first, but she moaned, "Hard! I want it hard!" So i began to thrust my fingers into her pussy fast and hard. She gyrated and pushed back onto my finger as her body twitched from the ecstasy i was putting her through. With her left hand, she brought it to my boxers, and began to rub on my already bugling cock. "Pull it out, i wanna suck it!" she insisted.

I pulled out my cock and not even waiting she began to suck on it, fast and rough. Stroking it into her mouth, she was a pro. I leaned my head back and my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head as her mouth did things that my last girlfriend could never do. It wasn't very long, but it was unforgettable. As we both reached our climax, our bodies twitched and trembled as she came all over my fingers and i busted my load into her mouth.

I shivered and winced as i just stood there looking at her as her body kept fidgeting as her eyes stared up at me and with a wicked smile... she said "This is the beginning of a great New Year, bro." Falling on the bed, beside her she leaned over and kissed me passionately. Her tongue swirling around in my mouth. "Tomorrow night will be better." She said.

That was Tonight. And i can't believe that me and my sister did that.
But more importantly i can't wait for tomorrow night. More to come...

Hey everybody! I've been surfing the site quite a bit the past few days taking a look at everybody's kinks and revisiting a few of mine I haven't entertained in a while. Mentally wallowing in my fetishes made me start thinking about some of the past sexual events of my life. I love hearing about other people's fantasies and real life exploits, hopefully some of you will enjoy hearing about mine.

I started at an early age (13). My first experiences were with other males and led to an ongoing affair with my best friend who was one year younger than me. As a matter of fact, I had been sexually active for four years before I had my first sexual encounter with a female. Well, that's not entirely true, but to be fair I really didn't know what we were doing when I had my very first encounter with a girl so things I would have done had I known what I do now were left completely unexplored.

My best friend and I had been sexually active with each other for about a year when I had an experience that has stayed with me my entire life. I lived in a rural area, but not too rural. It was a short bike ride into town on the state highway that ran just a few yards from my home. I'd grown big enough by the age of 14 that nobody questioned my age in a couple of the local convenience stores that sold our favorite magazines (Club, Hustler, and High Society) so every now and then I would ride into town and pick up a couple new magazines for us to peruse with the money we pilfered from here and there. One afternoon while riding back from the store I stopped at an old fashioned rest area on the highway just outside of town. Picture a good sized nicely manicured lawn surrounded on all sides by trees with a few picnic tables, and a path leading from the parking area to an old style well water pump in the middle of the area then splitting off in two directions to the outhouses all the way at the back of the plot of land. I rode my bike to the back of the area to the mens outhouse and dropped it on the ground. I figured while I was sitting there on the throne I'd take a moment to peruse the newly acquired reading material.

While I was sitting there enjoying one of the magazines I didn't realize another person had come up the walkway to the outhouse until the door swung open and I saw a man standing in the doorway. He was an older man, in his 50's, chubby and with white hair so short it was almost stubble. He quickly apologized and closed the door. I figured I'd been busted so before I got into any trouble for having porn magazines I quickly stuffed them back in my duffel bag, wiped my ass and started on my way out of there.

To my surprise, the man was standing outside the door waiting for me. As I went to walk past him he stopped me and asked if I minded if he borrowed one of my magazines for a few minutes. He sensed that I was feeling uncomfortable with being busted and told me he knew I was under 18 and said it was ok with him. I remember admitting my actual age to him and he assured me it was cool and he wasn't going to rat me out or anything like that. The few words we exchanged made me feel pretty comfortable with him so I gave him the bag, he picked one out and disappeared into the outhouse stall. While I was waiting for him to finish and return my magazine I noticed he left the door to the stall halfway open. I took a few steps to the right so I could see around the door into the stall and saw that he wasn't even using the toilet. He was standing there just inside the door with his pants around his ankles stroking his cock to the book he'd just borrowed from me. I'm normally very shy face to face but seeing this old guy who could have been my grandfather stroking his magnificent rod made my mouth water and I knew I wanted to get it on with him. Praying I didn't spook him I stepped far enough over for him to see me and said "Having fun in there?". It didn't take long for me to find out if my boldness was going to pay off or not.

"Why don't you come in here with me?" he asked. He didn't need to ask me twice. I was instantly in the stall with him. "Take your pants off and play with yourself" he said. I wasted no time undoing my jeans and dropping them to the floor. My cock was already hard before I even had the button undone and when it sprang out at him he gasped, like he had just seen the most beautiful thing ever. I started stroking my cock for him, his eyes riveted to me as I played for him, and my eyes to him. The meat he had between his legs made my mouth water and I wanted very badly to drop to my knees and swallow him deep. I figured my boldness had already gotten me this far so I made another bold move. I flat out asked him "Do you want me to give you a blow job?". At first he said no, but I could tell he really meant yes. We stroked for a little longer and I asked him again, do you want me to give you a blow job? His response was a little less convincing this time. So I said to him it's ok, I really want to and I promise you're not going to get into any trouble. It's our secret. He unwrapped his hand from his shaft and put it on the back of my head as he stepped toward me. I dropped to my knees in the dirty outhouse and took him in my hand before wrapping my mouth around him and getting my wish of sucking his beautiful cock.

When he first felt my mouth on him he groaned and pushed my head down deeper on his dick. He told me to keep stroking myself while I blew him. I raised my eyes, my mouth filled with his cock and saw him looking down at me stroking myself while I gobbled his meat. His cock was short, but not too short. Just long enough to comfortably fit all the way to the back of my throat without choking me when I went all the way down on him. It also had a nice girth to it so my mouth felt completely full, but not overfilled. I can't even begin to describe the taste of his skin, but I still have flashbacks to that particular flavor even all these years later. I pulled my dick for him, putting on a show while I completely lost myself in sucking his perfectly proportioned cock. All I could think was "Oh, my God, I can't believe I'm here doing this completely nasty, slutty thing!" Unfortunately I got too wrapped up in sucking him and didn't pay enough attention to pacing myself and the next thing I knew I was blowing my load all over the floor. I felt it coming before it actually blew but by the time I realized I was going to shoot it was too late for me to back off and stop it.

So there I was, in a rest area outhouse with a perverted old stranger's cock in my mouth while I milked myself out on the floor at his feet. I came so hard I had to take him out of my mouth while I caught my breath. He voiced his approval of my show and told me he really liked watching me make myself cum. I stroked his cock and played with his balls while he talked to me. He then instructed me to wet my hand with spit and cup his balls while he jerked himself off. With my spit soaked hand massaging his nutsack I knelt on the floor at his feet, my jeans still around my ankles, while he furiously pumped himself. After only a few strokes he said to me "I'm gonna cum, do you want it?" I told him I just wanted to watch him blow, and blow he did. He pointed his cock to the floor and shot like a rocket, his cum hitting the floor, mixing with the sizable puddle I left at his feet. When he finished milking himself dry he said to me we should probably get out of there. As much as I wanted to continue playing with him I agreed it was best we not push our luck. He told me he was going to leave and I should stay there for a few minutes so nothing would look suspicious in case anybody else had happened to stop at the rest area.

I sat down on the toilet while I waited, still not believing what had just happened and already the fantasies were building. I started thinking about what it would have felt like if he had leaned me over the toilet and shoved his cock up my tight ass, which is exactly what I thought about all the way home. For weeks I spent a lot more time than usual riding my bike up and down the highway, watching the rest area for any sign of him. Every moment I was able to steal away for some wank time was spent thinking about either his thick cock pressing into my bowels and shooting me full of filthy old pervert cum or my mouth wrapping around it until he coated the back of my throat. I fantasized about what it would be like to talk him in to taking me home where we could play unfettered. In my fantasies I'd reckoned he was a single man, living by himself in a nice quiet house with no nosy neighbors. I could ride my bike to his house and hide it out of sight, go in and let him have his way with me, fucking my mouth and ass to his heart's content. My deepest desire was to find this sick old fuck again and become his personal fuck toy. Sadly I only ran into him one time after that. I had stopped at the rest area to grab a drink of water from the fountain and use the toilet. As I was leaving I made it half way down the path and looked up to see him walking towards me on his way to the outhouse. We gave each other a knowing nod but I was crushed by the fact I couldn't just turn around and follow him back to the stall because there was a family there having a picnic who would have seen us both going in together. I never saw him again after that. Almost 30 years later I still fondly remember that nameless grandpa and it makes my cock twitch and rise to this day thinking about what happened and fantasizing about what could have been.