I confess I love fucking and sucking on this trashy twat. I'm addicted to that foul gash

On Omegle, I will "play" with anyone who says they like my dick, with the possible exception of older guys. Young guys, females, we always have a good time. They seem appreciative. Everyone has fun. No harm, no foul.

I was chilling with my dude last night and he gets a text from this girl he been fucking with. She talking about she wanted to come over & she had a friend.

Sounds good right?

Wrong.
This bitch looked like those Troll dolls from back in the day.
But fuck it. I'll take one for the team. She had a nice body, really thick. So me and her start making out, she starts grabbing my dick & I start to unzip her pants....

As soon as I unzipped her pants I smelled a STRONG ass odor, I can't even explain how it smelt. I almost lost my hard on. This is when I told her I gave my last condom to my friend & she should just suck my dick.

Fellas, Have you ever encountered a foul smelling vag?

I have to confess, i did something pretty... well, strange.

The other day when i had the house to myself, i was pretty giddy and hard, without much to make it go away. Out of boredom, i eyed the vacuum cleaner and got an idea.

In short, i gave myself a sort of bj with the vacuum hose. I'm not exactly small down there, but i could get about halfway in it. It felt AMAZING, especially when the suction would break and just sort of do this thing, like blowing a raspberry in reverse.

Desperate? Maybe. But damn if it didn't feel great. My only regret is not being able to fit all of myself in it. I mean, i've had someone deepthroat me before, but to have the same from a vacuum? I may never chase guys again lol

I would definitely suggest someone try it if they're even the slightest bit curious. No harm no foul, right? xD

She’s already foul of cum what’s your move?

I confess I think it's time I settled down with a nice anal addicted, self-fisting, foul-mouthed little slut.

Looking particularly for online chat and email. Hoping to find a dirty and perverted man who would enjoy hearing about my problems and jacking off. I've always wanted a man to urinate inside my mouth while calling me all sorts of foul names.

ROUND THREE / UNEXPECTED DAY THREE

Continuation of my Minnesota adventure: May 2024 [another very long post]

To recap:
I was visiting T, my 52-year-old long-time red-haired FWB, for the first time since October 2021. In the interim, she’d had major female surgery, put on some unwanted weight due to the anti-depressant meds she’d been taking (although she still looked amazing to me), and dumped a 20-y/o lover because “he came too fast, didn’t have a decent job, and couldn’t eat pussy to save his life.” I’d made the drive from Denver to her small town, located a couple of hours southwest of the Twin Cities, with the intent of doing what we always did. That involved catching up on news since the last time we were together, taking in concerts, museums and other attractions while spending the weekend in the Twin Cities, and having sex – lots and lots of sex.

I woke up around 7:30 Tuesday morning, following another three-hour fuck session that had wrapped up around two a.m. Because T babysits her two-year-old grandson every weekday afternoon, I had only planned to sleep over for two nights and then come back for her on Friday. She was dead asleep alongside me, with the covers pulled up over her head, so I left her alone and got dressed in the living room. Her car, a Ford Focus, had been running on fumes the previous evening, so I filled it up at the nearest gas station and then stopped off at a drive-thru for a bagel. Culinary note: I asked for the bagel to be toasted, with cream cheese on the side. Who the fuck toasts a bagel without slicing it first??? Sheesh.

Anyway, I returned to her place and was having my breakfast when T came out of the bedroom and plopped down beside me. I noticed she’d put on yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt, which clearly indicated she was officially "not in the mood." She is NOT a morning person, and that includes morning sex. I offered her half my bagel, which she declined. She’s also not a breakfast person. “Are you sure you want to leave today?” T asked. “I thought we settled that on Sunday,” I replied. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon and we’ll spend the weekend in St. Paul.” She gave me one of those inscrutable looks that leave guys like me clueless. “Well, Donna is coming over for dinner. We do this every few weeks and, besides, she wants to meet you.”

Donna was one of T’s former coworkers, a tall Nordic blonde who’d succumbed to T’s bisexual charms during a blizzard in February and was apparently still infatuated with my red-haired Viking princess. “You can leave if you want,” T teased, “but you’ll miss out on a fun dinner.” Something told me that dinner wasn’t the only thing I’d miss by heading north, so I agreed to delay my drive by a day. Hey – I may be clueless when it comes to women, but I like to think I’m not an idiot!

We spent most of the day pretty much the same as on Monday, watching TV, reading, and having light-hearted conversation. After homemade bean burritos for lunch, I agreed to help her sort through her massive clothes collection that took up most of a second bedroom. It was a claustrophobic environment dominated by two huge dressers her grandparents had left to her. Piles of clothes occupied every flat surface, but the drawers were nearly empty. Our task was to divide the wardrobe up into Donate and Keep. I suggested the latter category was likely to include “fits me now” and “I hope it’ll fit again someday.” That remark earned me a not-so-playful punch on my arm, followed immediately by an offer to “kiss and make it better.”

For about two hours, I pulled out articles of clothing as T passed judgment on each item’s future. It was really humid, even with the a/c running, so she'd changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been cut down into shorts. Occasionally she felt compelled to try things on to see if they fit – some did, but many did not – which meant she was regularly showing me her tits while putting on blouses, and turning around to show off her lovely ass with each skirt or pair of pants we came across. There was hardly any floor space, so we were constantly bumping into each other. T was also being very tactile – stroking my arm, smacking me on the ass when I didn’t move out of her way fast enough, and delivering a series of random kisses. Finally, I got up the courage to ask about her behavior.

“You know,” I began apprehensively, “I can’t help but notice how affectionate you are. It’s like the old T has returned.” During past visits, she’d regularly initiated public displays of affection, but I never felt comfortable asking about this behavior – mostly because I didn’t want it to stop. “Why now; why me?” She froze with her hand halfway reaching for a hanger and turned to face me. “You really want to know?” she asked quietly. “Always,” I said. “I used to behave like this a lot, because I’m an affectionate person, but my actions kept getting taken the wrong way. Nearly every guy I’ve been with assumed I was coming on to them sexually, as in, I wanted to fuck them right then and there. You, on the other hand, never give me that vibe, because I know you truly care about me as a person, not just some sex object.”

I must have had a weird look on my face while trying to process what she’d said, because she stepped over the huge pile of clothes still on the floor and bumped up against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a seriously hard kiss on my mouth. The phrase, “You know I adore you,” escaped my lips before I could even think about what I was saying. In return, T took half a step back and countered with, “Well, if you must know, I really DO want to fuck you, but that’ll have to wait because it’s almost time for me to go be with my grandson.” With that she giggled, pushed past me to climb out of the room, and called back in my direction as she was putting on her sneakers, “I’m watching him over at their place, because I don’t want to inflict him on you two days in a row. I’ll be back around 4:30.” And with that, she departed.

At 5:00 there was a knock on the door, so I hopped off the couch and went to answer it. T had previously texted me to say she wouldn’t be home until six o’clock but offered no further details. I opened up to greet a tall, slender woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a narrow face, carrying a grocery bag in each hand. I said, “You must be Donna,” at the same moment she said, “You must be Zac,” and we both laughed. I grabbed the bags out of her hands and took them straight to the kitchen. Since T lives in a double-wide trailer (err, “manufactured”) home, the counter was a mere three steps away. I explained that T was running late, and Donna countered with, “Yeah, she called to tell me that while I was at the Hy-Vee (the local supermarket), so I should just get dinner ready without her.” I offered to act as a backup chef, so we both did food prep. The menu included cucumber salad with onion, sliced tomatoes drizzled with olive oil, beer cheese soup, a baguette of French bread, and strawberry ice cream for dessert.

As we worked, we chatted amiably. I was curious about T’s experiences while working alongside Donna, and she confirmed that the stories I’d heard about harassment were true. “She just seems to attract asshole guys,” Donna said with conviction. Then, as she realized what she’d said, added, “Well, not you, obviously.” I laughed and countered with, “The jury might still be out on that one,” but she was quick to disagree. “Oh, no. T says you’re the sweetest guy. She told me you filled up her tank yesterday.” I couldn’t resist the double entendre. “You mean her car’s gas tank, right?” Donna burst out laughing. “Yeah – that, too.”

But before we could delve into additional semi-smutty talk, T returned and gave Donna a big hug and kiss. “Did you rope Zac into helping you with dinner?” she asked. “He volunteered and did a great job cutting up the vegetables,” she replied. I’d suggested we do the salad Hungarian style, dressed with sour cream, vinegar, and a dash of paprika. Lacking a dining table, we took our plates and bowls to the living room – five steps from the kitchen (!!) – and ate at the coffee table. I parked myself on T’s leather recliner, while the ladies sat on the couch.

After dessert, I gathered up the dishes and offered to do clean-up, to which there were no objections! While I was washing, drying and putting things away, T dragged out her cannabis paraphernalia and the two of them were soon “dabbing away.” Donna asked if they should save some for me, but T put the kibosh on that. “He’s got too much of a tolerance for pot,” T explained. “We split a tube Sunday night, and he didn’t even get high. I don’t think it affected him at all.” I chimed in with, “Well, it made me horny.” T responded with a laugh. “Geez, Zac, you’re hornier than any guy I know, so it clearly wasn’t the pot talking.” Naturally, Donna had to come back with, “So, how horny was he?” There was some whispering that followed between the two of them, and I was too far away to hear the conversation, except for the part where Donna said out loud, “How many times?” and then followed with “Oh, my god.”

I wrapped up my KP duties and started back toward my seat when T piped up with a request. “Zac, honey – can you go pick up something for us to drink? We’re too wasted to drive.” I reminded her we still had that Smirnoff swill from the night before, but T said, “Oh, I poured that out. It wasn’t very good.” That was the understatement of the week! Donna suggested a bottle of wine so, after a brief discussion of white versus red, they agreed “red” was the best choice. I grabbed my car keys and left the two of them puffing away on the couch.

The same woman who’d helped us the previous evening was back behind the counter. “How was that Smirnoff?” she asked. “Looking for another bottle?” [That's the issue with small towns; everyone knows your business!] I told her it was the worst stuff I’d tasted since that shot of vodka I’d sampled in a Bratislava grocery store decades earlier. That got a laugh out of her, and we chatted for about ten minutes about our respective overseas adventures, until I suddenly remembered why I was there. Two minutes and $15 later, I was on my way back to T’s place with what was reportedly a halfway decent bottle of California Cabernet.

As I walked into her place, the lights were off and no one was up front. I set the bottle down and slowly felt my way forward. The bedroom door was closed, and the rest of the place was nearly pitch-black. Because of the harsh Minnesota winters and the lack of decent insulation in her place, T keeps all the windows blocked year-round, because “it’s too much trouble to always be redoing them.” It’s like a goddamned cave in there; you can’t tell whether it’s day or night without opening the door and looking outside. I had my hands outstretched to aid in moving ahead, but thankfully it’s a very narrow hallway with no obstacles. I put my ear to the bedroom door but couldn’t make out any sounds. I thought about calling out, but instead I retraced my steps to the living room, stripped down to just my boxer briefs, and returned to where I’d just been standing.

As quietly as I could, I twisted the door handle and pulled the bedroom door open. The first thing I noticed was a pile of women’s clothes lying on the floor. Peeking around the corner, I saw two naked women erotically positioned and illuminated by the dim bedside lamp at the far side of the room. T was lying on her back, her thighs spread wide and the fingers of her left hand making slow circles around her clit. Donna was sitting on T’s face, grinding away, while the palms of her hands were pressed flat against the bedroom wall, since T’s double bed has no headboard. Neither woman was being particularly vocal – Donna was breathing hard, but quietly, whereas whatever sounds T was making were being directed straight into Donna’s vagina. I took off my boxers and began to stroke my cock, which was quickly at attention.

I was being quiet, but Donna turned her head and caught me out of the corner of her eye as I was standing at the side of the bed with my cock in my hand. “Guess—who’s—back?” Donna managed to announce, in between gasps for air. T mumbled something that I couldn’t understand, but Donna was apparently skilled at interpreting mouth-to-pussy speech. “She wants you to go down on her,” Donna translated, so I wasted no time climbing onto the bed and hopping to it. I pushed T’s hand aside and wrapped my lips around her little button-clit. I sucked on it hard, which really sets her off, and then I shoved two fingers deep into her pussy.

Eighteen months earlier, when T had the first of two back-to-back vaginal surgeries, she was worried they would affect her “pleasure parts,” as she called them. But for the past two nights, I was a witness that she was as orgasmic as she’d ever been. Meanwhile, Donna was raking her crotch up and down T’s mouth, and I looked up just as T took the hand she’d been using on her clit and stuck her middle finger deep into Donna’s ass. “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events,” I thought to myself. T was not a fan of anal play on herself, although she occasionally enjoyed it when I moistened my index finger and rimmed her butthole while simultaneously circling her clit with my tongue. She calls it “the double roundabout.” This was the first time I’d seen her finger-fuck another woman in the ass, although she’s never been shy about pounding a girlfriend’s other hole with her fingers. It didn’t take long for me to get T bucking and moaning, and I stayed with it until she exploded into a thigh-quivering orgasm.

After lifting myself up to catch a breath, I decided not to continue with more cunnilingus but instead mounted T, shoving my cock into her ultra-moist pussy. She made a half-hearted effort to push me away, but my 225 pounds was no match for her 140, so I stayed put. With Donna’s firm ass staring me in the face – she hadn’t dismounted from T’s face, despite already having had at least one orgasm – I balanced precariously on top of T and used my hands to grip Donna’s buttocks and spread them apart. Seconds later, she had the experience of two tongues on her, with one at each hole.

T mumbled something, with Donna apparently understanding her query, because she replied, “He’s got his tongue in my ass.” I sure did! But while focusing my attention on the shapely tush in front of me, I’d stopped fucking T and simply left my cock motionless, albeit balls-deep in her pussy. She seemed miffed by this lack of attention, because she responded by wrapping her legs around my thighs and humping up against me, fighting to attain yet another orgasm. Donna came with a grunt and a shudder, moaned, “Ohhhh, gawd!” and rolled off T’s face to collapse on the far side of the bed. Unfortunately, her unexpected dismount caused her knee to smack against the side of my head, and I think I might have lost consciousness for a few seconds. When I regained my senses, I’d rolled off T, having ended up on the same side of the bed where Donna had landed.

“Are you OK?” Donna asked, with concern in her voice. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed my hand to the spot where her knee had made contact with my skull. “No blood, no foul, I guess,” was my flippant reply, which was enough to elicit a hearty laugh from both women. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I slid down to lie across the bottom edge of the mattress and laid my head on my outstretched arm. T said, “I think we could all use a drink,” and for once, I agreed that was a good idea. She climbed off the bed and slipped quickly into the kitchen, where we could hear her cursing because she couldn’t immediately find a corkscrew. I was torn between remaining in the bedroom and watching Donna play with her clit, which she was doing absent-mindedly, and following T into the kitchen to lend a hand with the wine. With the cry, “Zac – come here. I need you,” the decision was made for me.

I found T leaning back against the sink, the wine bottle in one hand and a fairly elaborate corkscrew device in the other. “I think I’m too high to figure this out,” she admitted, so I relieved her of both items and managed to extract the cork without damaging my hand, or my male ego. T looked absolutely delicious, nude with her pale pink nipples at full attention, her flushed skin accentuating the freckles on her chest, her red triangle down below curly and enticing, and the tang of pussy juice in the air. We stood there, wordlessly, for a few seconds – each checking out the other person’s body – until she reached out and wrapped her hand around my semi-tumescent cock. Then, she uttered a sentence any red-blooded male would love to hear in that situation: “I want to watch you fuck Donna, and then I’ll clean you both up.”

She and I have performed this act before, but the last time was pre-COVID. Back in 2019, while spending a fuck-filled four-day weekend in a St. Paul Airbnb, she’d picked up a waitress at the neighborhood pastry shop. We’d gone there for breakfast two days in a row, where during each visit T got more and more flirty with the young woman behind the counter. On Day Three, after telling me to pay the bill and then scram, she somehow talked Simone into coming over to our place once her shift ended at noon. Awaiting her arrival, T told me Simone was only interested in girl-on-girl sex, which was OK with me. And true to her word, Simone showed up on time, stripped off her clothes, and dove into T’s pussy as if she hadn’t had sex in months – which turned out to be the case. I sat on the sidelines, stroking and watching, as they both worked each other into multiple orgasmic frenzies. Taking a break, T said to Simone, “I’m thinking about sucking Zac’s cock, because I love the taste of his cum, but I’d like it even better if it came dripping out of your pussy.” Simone seemed more than a bit skeptical, until T told her that I’d do her doggy-style so she didn’t have to see me fucking her, and that I’d do my best to ejaculate quickly. Given the stroke job I’d been doing on myself the previous 30 minutes, that last part wasn’t going to be a problem. Simone agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and I took her from behind – a deliciously tight 22-year-old pussy that needed only half a dozen pumps to get blasted. T fulfilled her part of the bargain and even managed to make Simone orgasm one last time as my man-jizz ended up all over T’s face and then down her throat.

On this evening, however, there was no reluctant acceptance on Donna’s part. I carried three full wine glasses into the bedroom, distributed them accordingly, and then T announced the next stage in our hours-long fuck-fest. As soon as T explained what she wanted us to do, Donna and I looked at each other and asked, nearly simultaneously, “How do you want me?” That got all three of us laughing, but T had her own idea. “Do her missionary, Zac, so the cum won’t leak out before I gobble it up.” Thankfully I wasn’t drinking from my wineglass at that moment, because I would have probably done a spit-take onto her lovely striped cotton sheets. Instead, I drained the last of the liquid and handed my glass to T, who set it down on the nightstand closest to the bedroom door. Then I dove forward to shove my face into Donna’s crotch.

I’d caught her by surprise, but she didn’t voice a single objection, instead sliding her butt forward so she could lie flat on the bed. I tongued her slit for a minute or two – she tasted really good – and then hopped up onto my knees and guided my dick into her pussy hole. Donna reached up and pushed against my shoulders. I thought she was doing that to get me off her, but she only wanted to create enough room to pull her knees up and press them against my chest. This was actually a very effective fucking position for me, because her legs acted as a sort of spring against which I could thrust and retract. She supplied at least half of the motion, and I was able to hang onto her knees for leverage instead of having to use my arms to bear the weight of my body.

We built up a good rhythm, with lots of heavy breathing on both our parts. Meanwhile, T was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, finger-fucking herself with an in-and-out motion that matched my own pussy pounding. Just as T said to Donna, “Don’t be surprised, but he sometimes takes a while to come,” I froze on the downstroke as my cock pumped three or four streams of cum deep into Donna’s pussy. All she said was, “Done?” and when I could only nod my head, she used her legs to push me off her while holding her ass up off the bed. T swooped in and dove for the gusto, first licking up the drops of cum that had dripped off my cock as I withdrew, and then using her fingers to dig deep for the rest of the load.

I managed to stand up at the foot of the bed, knees sagging a bit against the edge of the mattress to maintain my balance. T was really slurping up what I’d left for her, and I jacked my dick a bit as I watched. Having completed her task on Donna, T spun around and licked me clean. “Fuck, that was fun!” she exclaimed, and then guzzled down the rest of the wine in her glass.

We’d easily passed the three-hour mark, and I was exhausted. The ladies climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom, while I flopped down onto the mattress with the aim of slipping off to dreamland. T had other ideas, however. “Hey,” she called out, which awakened me from my near-slumber. “Donna’s staying over, so you’ll have to camp out on the couch.” I began to object, but my argument fell on deaf ears. “There’s just no room, Zac. Sorry. You’ll find an extra pillow and a blanket in the room where my clothes are.” I passed Donna on my way down the hall, pillow and blanket in hand. She’d stopped off in the kitchen for a glass of water and patted me on the ass while I was setting things up on the couch. I straightened up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but she put her hand gently on the side of my face – coincidentally, the same side where she’d kneed me earlier – and gave me a deep kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK?” she whispered. I thanked her for an amazingly fun time, which got a shy smile from her before she returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

I’m sure I fell asleep within minutes of stretching out on the couch. At six-foot-zero, I had just enough room to lie on my side (my preferred sleeping position) with my knees slightly bent. Even so, my head was pressed against one arm of the couch, and my feet rested up against the other one. Many hours later – I had no idea of the time, since the windows were blocked and my iPhone was in the other room – I was awakened by something stroking my lower leg. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I imagined it was my cat, Jemima, since she rubs up against me every morning as if to say, “Hey, human. It’s time for my breakfast.” So, when I opened my eyes to see Donna perched on the edge of the couch, as naked as she’d been the night before, I regained full consciousness damned quickly.
She put her finger to her lips and motioned for me to slide over. As skinny as she was, there was still hardly any room to accommodate her lying next to me, so she ended up mostly on top, one knee between my legs, her well-trimmed crotch pressed against my hip, her breasts against my chest, and her mouth a mere inch from mine. “I know T isn’t into morning sex,” Donna said in a very low voice, “but I hear you’re quite the fan, right?” I agreed and lifted my head up so I could give her a good-morning kiss. She slipped her tongue into my mouth while reaching down and wrapping her fingers around my rapidly rising cock. “Mmm, morning wood is the best wood, don’t you agree?” she teased. She squeezed me gently, and we continued to make out as she ground her pussy against my hip bone. Once she determined I was sufficiently erect, Donna threw her leg across my body and straddled me effortlessly. “You were on top last night, so now it’s my turn,” she said. Before I could object – not that it even occurred to me to do so – she had my cock all the way inside her pussy and was rocking back and forth on it with gusto. I reached up and tugged on her small nipples, which were like rock-hard cherries, and she worked her way into two very quick and enthusiastic orgasms.
Donna climbed off after her second orgasm but recognized I hadn’t had one. She teased me a bit with her tongue on the very tip of my cock, pushing my hands away as I tried (unsuccessfully) to engage her mouth more fully. “Be a good boy and put your hands behind your head,” she instructed, “or else I’ll leave you to take matters into your own hands.” At my age, I wasn’t sure how much cum I could muster, given the prodigious amount I’d pumped into her pussy just six or seven hours earlier, but any blow job was better than no blow job. [I think I read that saying needlepointed on a pillow, once.] Donna continued to tease my twitching cock, using only her tongue and resting her hands on either side of my body for balance. She must have toyed with me like this for 10 or 15 minutes before finally relenting and taking my dick all the way into her mouth. Her tongue action continued to be amazing as she bobbed her head up and down only slightly. Still, it was enough of a turn-on for me that I managed to ooze out a bit of cum as I orgasmed. Donna gave me a pretty smile, climbed off the couch, and said she was heading to the shower. “You could probably use one, too,” she insisted, so I joined her under a thin stream of warm water and soaped up her body as she returned the favor. We didn’t get into anything more sexual, but I truly enjoyed the mutual contact.

T climbed out of her bedroom about an hour later, already dressed for the day in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Donna and I were sitting on the couch, a respectable distance away from each other, as we watched a local TV news show. T greeted each of us with a kiss and then went into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea. Upon her return, she squeezed in between us and stretched out her legs so her feet rested on the coffee table. Looking at each of us in turn, she asked, “So, did you two have a nice morning fuck?” Before either of us could answer, though, she leaned over and kissed Donna on the mouth. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” she giggled. “You know I’m not into pre-noon dick.” I shot back, “I guess I'll set my alarm for 12:05 then.” T stuck out her tongue at me and said, “You’re leaving for St. Paul as soon as you get packed, and Donna will help me with my clothing once you leave.”

After that comeback, I had nothing more to say, so I placed my pjs and my shaving kit into my suitcase and headed for the door. T forestalled me as I passed through the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me in a sensuous hug. “I’ll see you on Friday, lover,” she breathed into my ear, and moments later I was in my car. My final, fleeting thought as I drove down Broadway toward the highway was, “Well, I think my tongue AND my cock can use the three-day break.”

I confess that I spend time in public swimming pools at peak times trying to bump into girls. Today was very successful, a wide range of ages either gently touched on leg/ass to almost a grope. they have no idea what's going on as its easy to make it look like an accident. I even had one girl back into my hand as I stood still in the shallow end and my middle finger went right into her ass crack. I touched her a few more times then got talking to her when she lost something - she hadn't a fucking clue what happening. No harm no foul?

Was wondering if anyone else does this or has done it?

I confess to Motherless that I keep my guns and women dirty and filthy and very seldom clean them, other then an occasional wipe down. I put them away wet and all fouled the fuck up ! I only clean them when it really fucking needs to be cleaned ! As long as it's serviceable and working, why fix things that aren't broke ? Anyone else this way ?

Hi guys, long time reader, first time poster.

I confess just the other day I achieved intercourse with a teenager. I wrote out how it happened for your fapping pleasure. Before the trolls arrive, I will not post pics or vids, as I enjoy banging this girl, and will not likely enjoy getting banged by Bubba if I ever got caught. Yes this is a true story.

I have changed our names to protect both of our identities.

***

I had arranged to meet Beth before the group gathering. Tonight is the youth group's Christmas banquet, and she thinks that she's coming in a bit early to get in some photographs.

Well, she is. I told her that I'd like to send some proofs to a modelling agency, and that I need a model to work with. She was flattered and more than willing to comply. Beth is a simple country girl, homeschooled. I asked her once about her schooling, if she learns about biology, physics, math, if her mom is really capable of teaching it. Turns out there's lots that she doesn't get taught.

I really wanted to know how much she knew about sex, and a general sex-education in highschool would include STDs, so I ask her if she's ever heard of chlamydia. She answers, "It's pronounced clematis, and it's a viney plant with white flowers." No sex-ed.

When she arrives, she's wearing a stunning crimson red dress. It hugs her curves. It's strapless, and shows the top of her cleavage, and shows more than half her thighs. The best part of the dress is the zipper up the front--it goes from top to bottom, and there's a zipper head on each end. She's let the heads run a couple of inches from the hem on both ends. She weighs maybe 100 pounds, this dress shows off her perfect legs and ass like nothing else.

Her blonde hair is up in a fancy kind of bun, with long strands dangling down. She isn't wearing any stockings and her legs are smooth and white, and wears a mid-calf-high leather boot, with heals. She's about 5'2" usually, with the boot maybe 5'4". For a 15 year old homeschooler, she has sex appeal down.

"Come right in!" I motion her into the studio I have set up. The studio is in the same building as the banquet, where this youth group meets. She wasn't warned, but I have three high-definition video cameras in the room--one at front, one at side, and one in the opposite corner, close to the ceiling. I intend to revisit this appointment in my mind many times, and the recorded video will help.

"So, today we're going to take a few shots and get them submitted to a modelling studio, to get their feedback on my photography technique. Ready?"

"Sure", she answers with a hesitance, "But what's the video cameras for?" She motions to the obvious cameras.

"Don't pay them any mind, they are for my own purpose. Just ignore them!" I keep cheery and focused, not gonna let this get derailed. I flick on the three high-wattage flood lamps and get some lighting going.

Beth sits on the provided couch. It's a slouchy couch that I selected exactly for that reason. She sits on it and immediately loses balance. Her arms and legs all go out to rebalance, and I get a glimpse of everything wonderful. Perfect "little girl" white cotton panties. And you know damn straight I caught a few clicks, nevermind the video.

"Whew! I almost fell right over!" She wiggles to sit upright. I get her in a few positions: upright, laying on her belly, laying on her back, standing in front of the couch, standing on the couch. A couple of favorites: I got one where she is laying on her belly, and she is facing the camera, head propped up on hands, with elbows to the floor and her knees apart and feet up towards her head. What a glorious view for the camera behind her; on the couch, laying on her back, she has her two hands almost cupping her breasts, pursed lips facing the camera, and her one leg straight and the other upright and bent. God I love her legs.

A couple of times I glimpsed her panties again, and made an "Oops!" kind of sound, so as to play innocent with her. It was obvious that it didn't *really* bother her, and she wasn't ever really embarrassed that it had happened.

Half an hour has passed and I probably have 100 photos, all very excellent. She loves the attention and follows every suggestion.

"Beth, have you ever been tanning?" She's white like my bed linens.

"No, Mom and Dad have me working the greenhouse and I don't get out to go to school, so not really."

"Your skin is very white, can we try something?" She nods. "Come sit on the couch."

I put down the camera and walk up to face her sitting on the couch, and put my hands on her calves just above her boots.

"If we rub your skin a little bit, they'll get a bit of color. Like a little bit red. Are you ticklish?" She shakes her head no.

It was a lie, that her skin should change color. There's no real truth behind it, but it was a lie based on truth: she doesn't like how white her skin is, and I want to touch her. I put my hands on her calf, right above the boot, and drag my fingertips in small circles, over her knee and up to her lower thighs.

She giggles, and doesn't protest. Her skin has changed color though, on her face; she is flushed.

I pull up her chin to look up at me standing in front of her, and do the same to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, ears and behind the ears. When I got behind her ears, she closed her eyes and leaned in, so I took my time moving on. I tickled her hair, her neck, and moved to her shoulders. "Sit forward", I tell her.

She moves to the front edge of the couch, and I step on the couch to get behind her, then sit behind her with one leg on either side. "Now sit back." Her full weight is leaned against me, and if she knew what a hard-on was, she would feel mine pressed right against her lower back.

I continue massage tickling her shoulders, down her arms, and get back to her neck and ears. She lets out a soft moan and says "That feels really relaxing."

"And it's working too, your skin is changing color." There's no mirror for her to see, so I think she has to take my word for it. "I need to get every inch of your skin, so you're going to have to trust me." She doesn't react, or speak or flinch or anything, so I take my turn.

I casually make continuing tickle circles down her shoulders, to her collarbone, back to her neck, just beyond her collarbone. Her skin is so smooth, and without blemish, and she is totally relaxed and pressing her weight into me. Eventually I reach the hem of her dress, and am massaging her breasts. It's not a fondle or a cupping, but the same tickling. They're so tender, and they almost feel hot to the touch, but that might be in my head.

I continue to tickle up and down her chest, from hem up to neck and ears, and back down again. If she had any reason to be suspicious of foul play, it could be because I would be massaging this part of her body for 10 minutes alone. I even made sure to reach in under her dress a tiny bit, where the zipper head has been let down a bit. And when she didn't protest about that, I let slip in my fingers just under the hem of her dress, right onto her covered breasts. It's tight-fitting, so I don't insist on getting them in, just a bit of foreshadowing for her to think about.

"How are you doing?" I ask her, softly. "Mmmhmm" She responds without words, and I think she slouches a bit. I remember the camera that is facing the couch, and that it probably has a nice view of her crotch right now. OH! Her crotch..

I reach one hand down to her knee, and start massaging there, while the other tickled its way down the front of her dress. Agains she never protests that I ran my hand over her breast, over her belly, pressing in every step of the way. When both of my hands are on her knees, I start to do a drag kind of tickle, straight lines on her thighs, inside, on top, outside. And repeat, each time getting closer to the hem of her dress. Inside her thighs, on top of her thighs, outside of her thighs. Up and down. Repeat.

As I reach the hem of her dress, on my next pass I make a subtle gesture for her to part her legs, I just sort of push her knees a bit outwards. On my next trip up, I am not only inside her thighs, but reaching all the way down to the back of her thighs.

"Beth, do you still trust me?"

"Oh, yes!" She answers almost as a plea. "Put your hands on the back of my head." She reaches around, and clasps her hands on the back of my neck. At the same time I am continuing my upward travel to the hem of her dress, which has no risen because her legs are parted. Very gently, raking my fingers over the insides of her thighs I can feel the warmth that comes from the prize at the end of the road..

Then it happened, my thumbs caught the slightest glance of cotton--her panties. I almost froze it was so unexpected. I mean, I was going there, that's what I wanted, but now that I had arrived I was caught in fear.

"Are you done?" She asks. Her hands are rubbing my head, and she's almost squirming in my hands, as though to try to provoke me to continue.

"Not unless you are", I answer. She relaxes again, and sighs. She wants it.

Now, I pick up her one leg with both hands, and hook it on the outside of my knee. She complies and does her other leg for me. Now spread wide open, she leans her head on my shoulder, and for the first time I notice her breathing--it's quite heavy, she is silently panting.

So I work my way up from her knees, tickling her thighs, knowing that this time I will touch her, and there's no going back.

Every inch closer, she breathes another heavy sigh, I can feel her tensing her whole body, gripping and pulling my hair with her hands. Finally, with my thumbs, I feel the cotton again, and I rake up against it, making circles again.

Then, I hold my hands steady on either side of her panties, just millimetres from her crotch, and, holding my own breath, with my right thumb, gently press into the cotton. At first, light as a feather, and when I'm done, with enough pressure that Beth is squealing. She has never been touched like this.

I start to stroke my thumb up and down the cotton, where her pussy lips divide. It is so hot, and there is considerable friction from how wet she is. Beth is moaning with every exhale.

With the rest of my hands, I grip her under her thighs, right around to her ass, still stroking her very damp panties. She is almost pulling my hair out, writhing in ecstasy, moaning louder with every breath.

I move one hand from her thigh back to her chest, and stroke heavily her chest and neck and ear, and cup her clothed breast. I slow my stroking--I'd like to change pace, but don't want to disappoint her.

Now cupping her vagina and her breast, I just hold her tight, pressing her back against me. Breathing silently, but heavily, she finally speaks.

"Oh my God, Andrew. That is incredible. That feels so good. I don't want you to stop."

"Let's skip the banquet, eh? What do you say?" I have my eyes on the prize, and want to seal the deal. We're only a few rooms away, but nobody knows we're here, and we could stay all night. The banquet starts in about 30 minutes.

"Well.." she pauses. It's clear she wants to go.

"Ok, I tell you what. Let's stay here for a little while longer, go to the banquet, then come back. I promise you won't regret it." Beth is obviously excited.

"Andrew?" She asks. "I want more."

"Let me give it to you then." I slide out from behind her, thankful for a chance to breathe and give my own boner some space. She's now slouching right back against the couch, with her ass on the front edge.

I kneel down in front of her, and reach up her thighs, and under her (now unzipped) dress, grasping both sides of her panties at her waist. She lifts her ass a little and with a quick tug I have them at her ankles, then over her boots.

I look up and see in her full glory: perfect shapely thighs, knees slightly parted, and a perfect, swollen, parted and glistening wet pussy. She has a dirty-blonde patch of hair in a neat little V-shape above her labia, then a perfect hairless stomach.

"If you want to prove to me you're ready for this, then you'll have to leave these behind." The look of shock on her face, as a twirl her panties around my index finger, is priceless. I'm going to make this sweet innocent girl the hottest fuck toy there ever was.

She bites her bottom lip, looks up to a corner of her eye and finally nods to agree.

I can't tell you how precious a sight that is: I am knelt before her, panties in hand, her dress unzipped almost to her naval, legs slightly parted, red and swollen pussy in plain sight, sweat running down her face and hair plastered down, and now this look of mischief, of innocence lost, of lust across her face�

I rub my hands from her knees to her waist, on the outside of her thighs a few times, gradually working inwards. She's now looking into my eyes while I do it, and every time I get closer to her pussy her smile cracks even wider. Just as my hands are about to make contact, she closes her eyes and arches her back, but I stop, lean in, and blow a gentle breeze right over her swollen clitoris.

"OH GOD!" She nearly screams. Her hands reach out and behind her, looking for something to clutch.

The smell is invigorating. She has told me before about how her parents are "all-natural" eaters. She's clearly not on her period or ovulating. Just a clean, salty-sweet scent of lust.

I lay a few gentle kisses on her abdomen, then where her abs and legs meet, then a couple right up inside her thigh�

"Andrew are you going to�" She can't even finish the question.

I kiss her right on the clitoris. Then her labia. Then her pubic hair. My hands are rubbing up and down the inside of her thighs, and I lay my tongue flat across her lips and stroke up towards her clit.

"Mmmm� Oh that feels really good." Beth is moaning again with every breath. With one hand I rub her on her pubic hair, and up her belly, then under her dress until I reach her breast. To my amazement and delight, she doesn't wear a bra with this dress and I have in my hand her naked, erect nipple. Her breast is hardly bigger than a handful, a B-cup if I had to guess.

As I roll her nipple between thumb and finger, she starts jerking her body, throwing her back against the couch, then forward, legs up, then down. My other hand has now hooked a finger in between her lips, and it is soaking wet. I've been almost constantly licking and chewing her lit, and as you all know she is in an elongated state of climax.

I can tell that this wave of climax is near finished, so I start to let her down gently. My hand on her breast moves to her back, so that I'm holder her around her waist, I start licking slowly and broadly her lips and thighs, and my other hand is holder her behind her knee.

"Beth, I told you that we could make your skin look a little redder!" Her face is totally flush, and her crotch is bright red and swollen.

"Wow", is all she can muster.

Holding her tight, I move my head out of her lap, then let go, leaning up and in towards her face. She's looking into my eyes and watching me come close. Then I grab her by the back of her head, and kiss her right on her lips. She is clearly caught off guard, kissing like this is much more intimate than being orally satisfied.

She almost resists until I show her how to do it -- aha! The difference now isn't that she doesn't want it, but that up until now she has simply done as she was told, and is completely inexperienced. I kiss her top lip, her bottom lip. I lick her top lip, then kiss it again. I see her, in between kisses, licking her own lips, realizing that this is what her pussy tastes like.

I pull her chin down and her mouth open and thrust my tongue onto hers, licking her tongue, pushing and teasing it. Then a couple of gentle kisses again, and I pull back to stand upright.

If she knew to look for a boner, I'd almost be poking her in the face with it. I mean, I'm still fully clothed but holy hell this raging hard-on�

"It's time to get to the banquet if you want to make it in time." I look her in the eyes, turning off the bright, hot lights, and taking in her sweet sight.

She lazily, almost drunkenly stands up, her dress half unzipped and not even on straight anymore. Her hair is a mess, she's obviously been pulling her own hair too. She wiggles her dress and it straightens out, then she zips it fully up and fully down. Then I see her eyeing her panties I left next to the couch.

"Nuh-uh!" I exclaim. "These are mine." I hold them in my hands, and give them a big whif--just more of the same sweet smell I've come to know and love, then stuff them in my slack's back pocket.

Here we are, both of us dressed, we walk out the studio and to the banquet.

All of Beth's friends, and the teenagers I chaperone, are there. All of them all dolled up, wearing big smiles. Naturally the girls and the boys have found themselves on opposite sides of the room, looking and giggling at each other.

"Beth! You look so beautiful!" they all exclaim.

One of them, holding her hands, asks her, "There's something about you, you look different." Beth doesn't answer. "You're glowing!"

I leaned into Beth's ear and whisper, "Told you!" Then walk away, to let her be with her friends.

The next two hours are the longest two hours of my life. I still have her panties in my back pocket, and sat across the room from her; she sat with her back to me. Occasionally, she'll turn to see her friend, to chat with her, and I'll see her long, perfect legs, knowing at the end of them is my sweet, naked pussy.

To be continued...?