Category: finger fucking

Two Girls On The Beach

It was about 1130am on a hot March mid-week day in Perth, Western Australia. I am a 30 year old male, and was heading to a small beach about 40kms north for a day of sunbathing. I tend to go to this beach as it’s a short walk across and around rocks to the beach from the carpark, so it doesn’t get too busy, even on weekends. When I say it doesn’t get busy, usually you only see the odd person or 2, so it allows me to work on my all over tan without heading to the official nude beach further down the coast. Plus, sometimes you get lucky and you get to perve on a young mother or group of sexy young coeds sunning themselves topless, or even better nude. As it’s not a nude beach, people that do swim topless or nude are generally left alone to enjoy the suns rays in peace without the fear of being perved or pestered by dirty old men.

Anyway, as I was rock hopping across the rocks I notice 2 girls (one brunette, one blonde, both the same height at about 5 foot 10’) walking a couple of hundred meters in front of me. All of a sudden, the hat in the brunette’s bag falls out and drops to the sand, and the owner is unaware that the hat was missing.

By the time I get to where the hat was, I glance up the beach and see the girls setting themselves up behind a small sand mound a couple of hundreds meters up the beach, near where I usually go. It wasn’t hard to see where they were as there wasn’t anyone else on the beach on this glorious summer’s day. I pick up the hat with the intensions of returning the hat to its owner once I get to where they are sunning themselves on my way to my sunning place.

As I approached them, I noticed that they had already removed their bikini tops and were rubbing tanning lotion into their young skin. Both girls were beautiful, and either had a day off university or work. I estimate they would have been about nineteen or twenty years old, both with lovely tanned skin and perk boobs that stood straight out like proud beacons.

‘This is your hat, I saw it fall out of your bag a few hundred metres back’, I said. ‘Thanks’ said the brunette, ‘I didn’t even notice that it fell out’. Myself, the blonde and brunette made small talk for a minute or two, without the girls covering themselves up. Trying not to be obvious, I was happy they didn’t as I could have boned up right there and then without thinking too hard about it. They introduced themselves as Nicole (the brunette) and the blonde was Lisa. I was just about to leave when Lisa was frantically search through her bag ‘Damn, I left the SPF 30 suntan lotion back home, looks like we only got the tanning lotion (which is about SPF 4, which you can easily burn under the sun)’. I could see they were concerned about this, so I volunteered mine saying ‘I usually carry 2 bottles of lotion just in case, you are welcome to use this one (handing it to them) and return it when you are finished, I will just be working on my tan just over there. Plus I don’t want you burning your lovely bodies’. ‘Thanks, that’s really kind’, they said in unison.

On that, I walked about 30 metres away and laid my towel out in a small sand depression, where I could see the girls and they could see me. Watching them finish off applying lotion to themselves was erotic to say the least, as I stripped down to my bathers and standing there, slowly applied lotion to my body. I am particularly careful about ensuring that I am covered, however there is always a small section on my back that I can’t reach.

I glanced across to see what the girls were doing, who were stretched out, Lisa on her back and Nicole on her stomach. I had a feeling Nicole was watching me, so with a quick hand movement I removed my bathers and laid down on my towel. It was liberating to feel the sun on my bum, and I rubbed sunburn cream in just in case. Just as I finished, I glanced out of the corner of my eye, and noticed that Nicole had nudged Lisa and both were looking in my direction, having a good perve themselves, not that I minded though as I am a bit of an exhibitionist.
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The Commuter Bus

Trudy awoke to the soft classical music on the alarm clock radio. As she lay there thinking about the last evening with Ginger and Scott, Trudy realized she was very horny today and needed a stiff cock in her aching pussy.

Trudy climbed out of her bed and went to the patio window to look at the morning sunshine in the wooded yard outside her apartment.

“It was going to be warm today, she thought.” as she went to take a shower.

Trudy stood under the stream of hot water in the shower. The spray felt good on her skin as the hot water cascaded down her back, past her tiny waist, and rolled off the rounded cheeks of her tight buttocks. She lathered her ample, firm breasts with the soap and picked up the large sponge on the shelf under the shower spray. Rubbing her firm, soft breasts with the sponge, her thoughts went to Scott again.

His cock was so large, as she rubbed it through his slacks last night; she remembered how she could feel the heat of his organ through the thin material. She brought the sponge across her tiny waist and flat tummy and down to the tuft of blond hair on her soft, aroused pussy.

Resting a foot on the edge of the ledge of the shower, she rubbed the sponge around her little mound and across the outer lips of her pussy. She thought about what it would be like with Scott’s’ hand rubbing her there. Her pussy was getting very hot as she fantasized about his big cock shooting his hot come into her. She turned off the water and grabbed a bath towel to dry her soft, tingling body.

She went into the bedroom to dress for work. Standing naked in front of the mirror, she put on her lipstick and carefully applied her mascara. Trudy finished combing her long, blond hair and went to the closet to get a skirt and blouse.

As she put on a yellow, nylon blouse she decided to not button the top because she liked the sexy way her breasts would shake the loose, thin material as she moved. Then she pulled on a ruffled, yellow mini-skirt with black polka dots past her narrow hips and fastened it around her tiny waist. Slipping into a pair of plain, black high heel shoes she crossed the bedroom to her dresser and took out a pair of pink, black trimmed panties. After pulling on the panties, she stepped in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection.

“Such a hot looking babe.” she thought as she examined the sexy, blonde girl in the mirror wearing the soft, yellow blouse, opened to reveal a hint of her soft cleavage peeking past the loose, nylon fabric.
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Wet T-Shirt Dare

We had been partying at a friends house and the topic of the wet T-shirt contest at one of the clubs came up. The guys though we should all go down there and that I should enter the contest. At first I didn’t want to do it, saying all those girls are professional contestants, this is how they make their money and I wouldn’t stand a chance up against them. Well all the guys wanted to go and watch, so we all went down there to watch.

Being a little older than most of the girls that entered these contest, I still hold my own pretty good after having one child. I am a real blonde, don’t ask me to prove it, because I keep her pretty much shaved. I am by no means a hard body, but I am still shapely, with what I am told is a killer ass and wear a thong bikini with no problem at all. I have “C” breasts that don’t quite stand up there on their own anymore, but not one guy has ever turned their eyes away when I flash them, which I have been known to do when I drink.

We continued to drink, the contest didn’t start until 11:30, I was doing shots of tequila so I was feeling confident and ready to party, the guys turned to begging, daring me and calling me chicken, not one to pass on a dare let alone be called chicken, and I had been drinking more than plenty, agreed to it, hell I loved showing off my body and they all knew it, especially my husband. When it was time for the contestants to go get ready. I was wearing a pair of jeans, a little cropped button up shirt and sandals. After cutting up the shirt they provided, there wasn’t much left of it, I knew the jeans had to go if I wanted any chance at the prize money, most of the other girls had on bikini bottoms, thongs and panties…. none of which I had, so I made a thong sorta bikini bottom thing out of the left over T-shirt material.
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First Time In Public

It was the summer after I graduated from high school; I was eighteen at the time. I was dating the guy who was to eventually become my first husband. He was two years older than I. We both worked day jobs and saw each other most evenings.

We both worked about 5 minutes from a large county park. In nice weather, when our lunch hours coincided, we used to meet at the park for lunch. Both of us would brown bag it on those days that we planned to meet. In that park there were probably 20 or so groves each complete with picnic tables, stationary grills, swing sets, see saws, etc. On the hillsides that separated each picnic grove were, scattered here and there, picnic tables and a few stationary grills.

We would meet at the same grove each time that we went there, then walk up the hill to one of the picnic tables that were removed from a grove and other people. We usually picked a table that was near the top of the hill. We would and sit there, in our own private world, and eat and talk. We were in complete view of the road and of everyone else that was using that portion of the park, yet we were also alone together and could talk privately.

The first time that we had overt sexual contact there happened on a beautiful warm sunny day. We had finished eating our lunches and we were sitting talking. I was sitting on top of the picnic table and he was sitting sideways on the bench in front of me, straddling the bench. My feet were resting on the seat that he was sitting on. My back was toward the road at the bottom of the hill where most of the other people were. He moved over until he was sitting between my feet, with one of my legs on each side of him. Lifting his leg that was on the outer side of the bench he threw it up over the bench and turned to face me. He was now sitting on the bench between my legs, facing me, as I sat above him on the table top.

As we talked he slipped his hands up under my dress. I didn’t mind at all and I allowed him to go on without any protesting from me. I knew that no one could see what we were doing because my back was toward all the others that were there. I was facing the top of the hill with no other tables above ours. The top of the hill was covered with dense thick woods.

He rubbed my crotch thru my panties and it felt soooo good. I even spread my thighs open to give him better access. He had a talent for rubbing me in just the right places, thru my clothes. I was enjoying his touch and the feelings that he was creating in me.

He stopped rubbing my crotch thru my panties and slipped his hands around to the side of my hips then up to my waist. I felt his fingers grasp the elastic band at the waist of my panties and wondered what he was up to. He began pulling my panties down over my hips. I clasp my thighs back tight together in defense of his actions.

Being a little hesitant I ordered him, “Stop!”
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The Big Game

You saunter through the room and hand me my 3rd beer. I have a nice buzz on as I stare up into your eyes, ‘Thanks babe,’ I say as I take it and set it next to me. You are wearing a dangerously short black skirt, and a tight red spaghetti strap top. Your nipples are hard and poking out for all to see. You don’t care, you like showing them off.

‘No problem, sweetie,’ you say as you turn and head back to the kitchen. My eyes aren’t the only ones watching as you disappear.

‘You are one lucky guy, Dustin,’ a friend says.

‘Fuck yeah,’ says another. Smiling broadly at the compliments. Maybe it’s the beer, but I drop a bombshell and say,

‘And she’s not wearing any underwear.’ The room explodes, the guys hooting and hollering. You run back into the room. We all quiet down.

Andy says, ‘Uhh, the Redskins just sacked the quarterback.’ And with that you head back to the kitchen. Then he turns to me and in a whisper, ‘You’re fucking with us.’ All the guys lean forward to hear my answer.

‘Nope. I told her no underwear and she’s not wearing any.’ The guys shake their heads. I notice Dave and Jim adjusting their pants. I think their getting erections, but I’m not about to ask. I take another swig of beer. ‘She loves not wearing underwear. Gets her hot. She fucks like an animal when she’s gone a day without wearing them.’ The guys all take a long drink of beer.

‘No fucking way. You’re lying,’ says Derek.

‘Watch,’ I reply. I call to you and you strut in.

‘You called lover?’ you ask. I motion you over to me. You bend down and I grab you and pull you forward. Bending at the knees I lock my lips on your. My tongue slips into your mouth. You struggle a bit, then kiss me fully. While we are kissing I pull up the bottom of your skirt, without you realizing it. I let go of you.

‘That’s all I wanted.’

‘Are you sure?’ you ask in a sultry, thrusting a hip in my direction. Laughing I pat your bottom as I send you away. When you’re gone I turn to Andy.

‘Well?’

‘You weren’t lying,’ he says, then adds, ‘Dudes she’s totally shaved.’ The hooting begins again, but this time you don’t come into the room. I sit back to watch the game. As I take another pull from the bottle, Jim gets up and leaves.
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Replaying Debts

I stopped by my brother Will’s apartment to return some money that he’d lent me. On my way there I ran into one of his roommates, David I think, on his way out with a group of people. He said that Will was at work right now, but I could either wait in the apartment or just leave the money. I wanted to be sure that the money made it into Will’s hands, so I opted to wait. David said that Paul would let me in and hurried off with his friends.

I rang the doorbell and Paul let me in. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight of Paul. He had obviously been working out because he was dressed in a muscle shirt and shorts. His body glistened with sweat. I had had no idea that he was so well built. I had only met Paul a couple of time before and he was always in sweats.

I asked Paul, “Do you mind if I wait for Will to get home from work?”

“Not at all. I could use a break.”

“Don’t stop on my account. You don’t need to keep me company, I’m a big girl. Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your workout.”

“I don’t mind. I was almost done anyway. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

My eyes follow Paul out of the room. When he is out of sight I have to take a deep breath. I am starting to have a wonderful idea of how to kill time waiting for Will.

I take off my jacket and look down at my outfit. I am very glad that I was wearing the button-down shirt and tight jeans which showed off my legs nicely. I undid another button, revealing the tops of my breasts. I sat down on the couch and waited for Paul to return with my drink.

When he returned Paul was wearing his usual sweats again, much to my disappointment. I comforted myself with the thought that soon he would be wearing even less than what I had seen a few minutes ago. He handed me a beer and sat down on a chair across from me.

We start off with small talk. Polite ‘getting to know you better’ conversation. Before too long I bring up the ever important question, does he have a girlfriend…

“Not at the moment,” he replies in a disheartening tone. “My girlfriend dumped me a few weeks ago.”

‘Yes, I can play the sympathy card,’ I think to myself, but to him I say, “I’m sorry to hear that. It is her loss. She has obviously made a huge mistake. What girl wouldn’t want you?”
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Substitute Seduction

From the moment Gina strutted into the classroom, I knew she would be trouble. I also knew I had to have her.

As it happened, the day I met Gina was my very first day as a substitute teacher. I was to be teaching at St. Vincent’s, which was an all-girls Catholic school. I had been warned that the girls there were famous for being incorrigible teases, who made it their job to create as much sexual tension as possible for any male substitute who was unfortunate enough to be assigned to them. The school had made an effort to correct the situation by hiring only female substitute teachers, but what they didn’t know was that I was bisexual. Not only that, but I have a serious schoolgirl fetish; I love the way they manage to exude such raw sexuality through supposedly demure and proper outfits.

I believe that whoever designed the look of their uniforms was most certainly male. I love the way their crisp, white blouses cling to the curves of their young, perky breasts, and how the bolder temptresses constantly hike up their skirts to reveal more and more of their sexy, smooth legs. And those thigh-highs! I love the contrast between the top of the stocking and the emerging thigh, which provides an enticing clue to what lies just above.

On this particular day, I was dressed in my most “no nonsense” uniform- a perfectly pressed white blouse, black pencil skirt which ended just above my knees, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. My long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a polished up do, and I wore only the slightest bit of makeup; jet-black eyeliner to make my gray eyes stand out, a touch of blush to give my cheeks slight color, and pale pink lipstick. I decided against wearing any perfume, and had instead rubbed a feminine rose-scented lotion into my skin after my shower that morning.

As I breezed into the classroom with my black briefcase tucked under my arm, I thought I was ready for anything. I was determined to be entirely professional, as I didn’t want to risk losing my newly-acquired job, especially on my very first day! I knew this would take a great deal of self control, however, because I was assigned to a classroom of girls who were in their last year, i.e. 18 and completely legal. I had to resist temptation.

“Good morning girls, my name is Miss Kay,” I announced, surveying the classroom. I immediately noticed that there was an empty seat. Just as I was about to ask who was missing, an attractive young girl flounced into the room, sat down heavily in her seat, and gave me in haughty look, arms folded across her chest, as if daring me to reprimand her. I rose to the challenge.

“And your name is…?” I asked.

“Gina.”

“Gina, please go to the office and get a late slip.”

“But I’m not late!” she protested, rising from her desk and placing her hands firmly on her hips. There were muffled whispers around the room as the rest of the girls undoubtedly wondered how I was going to handle the unruly student.

“All right then” I countered, “Instead of going to the office and getting a late slip, you can stay for detention with me after school for being late AND giving me attitude.”

The room was silent as the girls eagerly waited for a response. I had put on a fearless face, but I was quaking inside. Not only was this girl unwavering in her effort to challenge my authority, she was absolutely stunning.
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Mile High Club

Trent Boyd hefted his small attache’ case into the over head compartment and sat down in the aisle seat and waited for the 737 to take off. Leaving the bone chilling cold of Detroit to spend a long weekend in New Orleans was enough to bring a smile to the face of any seasoned traveler! One stop over in Memphis, and it would be good by Woodward Ave. and hello Bourbon Street! This would be Trent’s sixth visit to the Crescent City and it was definitely his favorite destination, with all the food, booze and women to be had! His day dream was abruptly interrupted, however, when he chanced to see an absolutely stunning black haired beauty dragging an over night bag down the aisle, obviously looking for her seat. Every male eye in the plane followed her every step, the result of which was a slight jiggling of her oversized chest underneath her skin tight sweater! To Trent’s utter delight, she stopped at his row, rechecked her ticket stub, and hoisted her bag into the over head, and slipped past him into the window seat next to his. Usually in cases like this, Trent’s usual experience would have been that this lovely creature would turn out to be an ice queen, but to his happy dismay, she stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Sonja, Sonja Fletcher!” He took her hand, and replied, “Trent Boyd’s the name, glad to meet you, New Orleans or Memphis!?!”

“Memphis,” she answered, “born and raised there, going home to visit the folks.” “That’s nice,” he replied, “I’m going on to New Orleans myself, a long weekend getaway!” Just then the no smoking and seat belt lights came on, and a flight attendant announced that they would be taking off in about two minutes. “I guess we had better get ready,” Sonja said, while reaching for her seat belt. “Yeah,” replied Trent, “if we go down we better be belted in, for all the good it would do.” “Please don’t say that, I’m scared to death of flying,” she said in a nervous voice, “joking about it just makes it worse for me!” At first Trent thought she may have been joking, but the look on her face told him that she really was terrified of flying! “I’m sorry, Sonja,” he said soothingly, “you’re right, it was a bad joke, here, let me hold your hand during take off, it will make you feel better!” Gripping his hand like a steel vice, Sonja was obviously glad to have someone to hold onto, and Trent was a little taken back when she held his hand to her chest while waiting for the plane to take off.

“My god,” he thought, “her boobs are incredible,” even if he was getting a somewhat limited feel through her tight sweater. “I’m sorry I’m holding on so tight, but I really am frightened,” she offered! While trying to maneuver his fingers for a better feel, he replied back, “Oh, that’s all right, if it makes you feel better, it’s all right with me.” Soon the jet was taxiing out to the runway, and Sonja’s breathing became shallow and intermittent, a sure sign of hyperventilation. Deciding to take a real chance, Trent turned a little to face her, and reached his right hand over and held her leg, six inches or so above her knee. Acting as if he were just trying to protect her, he held her close, while all the time enjoying the sensation of having one hand buried in her huge chest, and the other one on the inside of her smooth bare thigh! “Hold on,” he whispered into her ear, “here we go,” as the plane hurtled down the runway, gaining speed with each passing second. Sonja held on to Trent even harder, as she closed her eyes, hoping that they would get air born as quickly as possible while Trent let his hand slide a little farther up her thigh, until it was actually under the hem of her dress!
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Wild Subway Ride

Terri crammed her way onto into the third car of the Englewood-Howard subway line on her way to the Loop for work, and while it was only 7:00AM, the car was already packed like a can of sardines. After about a month of subway rides, Terri would get fed up and take her car to work, but that usually only lasted a day or two because of the horrible traffic and expensive Loop parking rates. The el was considerably faster and cheaper, if not more convenient than driving a car. On this Wednesday it seemed that it was packed tighter than normal as Terri was pressed between a well dressed business man and a mid forties woman who smelled of Chanel No. 5.

The car rocked back and forth as the train made it’s way from the far north side on it’s way down town, and having made the same trip thousands of times, Terri kind of put her mind in neutral and just swayed with motion of the car. She was gazing out the window at the passing apartment buildings, and hardly noticed Miss Chanel No. 5 starting to breath a little harder and more shallowly, and only when she felt the woman stiffen against her did she realize that something was up. Now looking the woman in the eyes, she could see that she was in some sort of discomfort. “Are you all right,” asked Terri? The woman just nodded her head and gulped down a breath of air. For the next several stops Terri watched to see that the lady was going to be okay as her cheeks now flushed a bright red! Terri felt the woman grinding herself into her and while trying to hide her short gasps of air, Terri couldn’t believe it, but she thought that the woman looked to be having an orgasm right on the train! She became more convinced when the woman’s body suddenly went limp and her breathing returned to normal, after which she gave Terri a weak smile and then looked away.

Terri was about to forget it the whole incidnt when she felt the unmistakable feeling of a hand sliding up the inside of her thigh up under her skirt! “My God,” she thought, “this is what happened to her fellow passenger!!!” Frantically looking around she couldn’t see anyone looking out of the ordinary. She looked to see if the business man pressed against her could be the culprit, but he was reading the newspaper in one hand and holding on to the over head bar with the other. “Can’t be him,” she thought as the hand had worked it’s way farther up her thigh until she could feel fingers softly brushing against the front of her panties!!! Should she scream? She was sure that if she did, the hand would be gone and she would surely look like a fool!!! Now the fingers had worked their way past the elastic on the leg openings and now were moving up and down her slit. “Shit,” she thought, “I can’t help it, I’m getting wet!!!” Now her own breaths came more shallowly, while as the car swayed too and fro it only heightened her arousal!
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Librarian

Ryan pushed the heavy cart containing at least on hundred books down the narrow library aisles, stopping occasionally to return the volumes to their proper place. To most people rummaging around a bunch of dusty books and periodicals would be a chore to be avoided at all costs, but Ryan was different, he loved feel of the books in his hands and the aroma of old manuscripts filling his nose, but especially the wealth of information found like buried treasure between the sometimes frayed covers. He was only eighteen, but already he knew what he wanted to do with his life, go to college, major in library science, and become a curator for some large research library. He wasn’t interested in checking books in and out, or sending out past due notices to tardy borrowers, no, he wanted to get into old manuscripts, first editions, and rare writings from days gone by. For now, though, just being able to work at something he truly loved was enough for him. He glanced at his watch, and said to himself, “Five minutes to closing, I better get hustling, it’s gonna take at least an hour to get all these put away!” Working at a quick pace, Ryan was almost finished restacking, when it happened, standing on the short step stool needed to reach the upper shelf, his foot slipped and he came tumbling to the floor, landing with a loud thud. The force with which he had hit the floor had been noisy enough that the head librarian, Miss Vance had heard it and brought her running. When she got to him, what she found was and unconscious Ryan, with blood trickling down his forehead.

Miss Vance practically ran to the rest room and wet a towel with cold water and rushed back to Ryan. When she got there he was trying to shake out the cob webs, but his head was pounding, and he was still too shaky to stand up. Miss Vance gently dabbed the blood from his brow and asked, “What in the world happened Ryan, you just must be more careful!?!” Ryan tried to stand up, but slipped back to the floor, only to be caught in Miss Vance’s arms. “Don’t try to get up yet,” she ordered in her usual stern voice, “just lie back and relax for a few minutes!” Miss Vance was a very strict and formal woman, about fifty Ryan guessed, with a manor that bespoke respect and decorum. No matter the weather or time of year, she always wore a white blouse, a medium length skirt, and a ladies blazer or jacket, usually gray or dark blue, while sometimes to add a little color she would wear a gay scarf around her neck. With her black hair pulled back in a severe bun, and her erudite personality, it wasn’t easy to carry on a conversation with her, let alone have any type of interpersonal relationship, but right now he was as close to Miss Vance as he ever had been, and in his hazy mental state due to his fall he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. Although she wore unrevealing clothing and acted cool and aloof to her employees, Harriett Vance couldn’t disguise the fullness of her body which was dominated by a large full chest that she tried to keep hidden from view!
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