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I daydream that I’m on trial, a group of women staring at me with a look of their decided disgust. The first woman, a tall, long-legged, blonde bombshell struts down towards the stand. When asked about her encounter, she states that she was the first person to ever be objectified by me.

“He was only young, sitting in the passenger’s seat of a car at a stoplight. When I had to cross the road, he looked me up and down. He stared at my legs and my ass the whole time they were stopped. But even worse, was what he imagined me doing while I was just crossing the road. They were things I would never do; I didn’t know boys thought of such things, especially that young.”

The judge, a woman, looked at me and asked, “So do you plead the 5th again?” Of course, I did, but it didn’t matter. See, with me, I’m the first lucky person to have an anti-superpower. Do you know how you feel a little guilty when you stare at a woman, or try and make a double take? You imagine them noticing and thinking you’re disgusting for being such a pervert. Well, I’m not sure about the details, but when I hit puberty women were able to tell whenever I wondered about them.

As you can imagine this is kind of the undoing of any boy, who much like me, was beginning to rely on the fact that women can’t read my mind. I considered Buddhism or taking a sacrament and becoming a priest. I mean I didn’t believe in God, but after this ordeal, I kind of do, and I couldn’t have a girlfriend or a wife, she would know my thoughts, and maybe she would know every time I stared at another.

I loathed other men’s ability to silently enjoy women, they could watch from behind, peak while they bend over in front of them, or even try to deduce what underwear they had on. I couldn’t even watch porn anymore, I just felt kind of weird that the porn star would be alerted to my use of her material, I mean I know you think you’d get off on that, but trust me, there’s a weird feeling you get when someone you don’t know can tell you’re jerking off to them. I begged my parents to let me do home-schooling online. Of course, They asked why, so I just told them, I wanted to focus on my education. They reveled in that, and I had an excuse to not leave the house. Now the thing with being an 18-year-old boy and being on the computer all day for my senior year, is that the awkward pornstar situation did not outweigh the awkward distractions of the conglomerate of alluring porn on the internet.

So, at times I broke like a typical human, and sometimes even got emails from porn stars thanking me and telling me they’d use the ideas I had while I was watching them, I know that’s weird.

One positive was that even though my teachers on the skype calls were mostly female they weren’t attractive to me in the slightest…

And then there was my final class. I had to take an introduction to psychology. Well, I’ll try not to objectify Talia here in the hopes that she isn’t alerted to me thinking about her this far after I graduated, she was 36 and she was just one of those teachers, and you can likely fill in the other details. The thing about this home-schooling course was that the people teaching it were more suitable than those generally in public or even private schools. She was an actual clinical psychologist, which often made me wonder why she took this teaching job. Regardless, I often covered her square in the video call with a sticky note to avoid any trouble. I had gotten away with it, my initial thoughts when I saw her weren’t innocent, but it seemed that she didn’t possess the ability to immediately be privy to my initial instinctive thoughts at that moment. These are the thoughts that used to get me into the most trouble, you have no control over them, all you can do is distract yourself after you have them and hope for the best. The sticky notes only got me so far. She had a soft English accent; of course, she fucking did. However, luckily, she never seemed aware of my thoughts on this. I used to keep the volume down and I disciplined myself to only focus on what she was saying, that was what was crucial, right? While we stuck to the curriculum on the basics of Freud’s inception of psychoanalysis, behaviorist studies, cognitivism, and topics in clinical psychology, we were able to go more in-depth, and even go into topics that would not be acceptable in common schools, like of course, again, sex.

Now while Freud fixated on sex excruciatingly, he doesn’t do it in a particularly sexy way. I think he may have had a few odd sexual fantasies himself. I did often wonder though whether most men fantasized about their mums, I mean I had repressed my sexual desires, not explored them. I never knew whether Freud was right or wrong about these desires because I had trained myself not to chase any sexual desire or fantasy out of the fear of exposure.

I probably would have been motherfucking Freud’s favorite test subject. I don’t believe I would discover the person who birthed me sexually in the slightest, I guess that’s because the idea repulses me, but I assumed I was right in that, I didn’t really have proof that following your sexual desires wouldn’t lead there, I guess I hope for everyone’s sake they don’t fantasize about that.

Anyway, there was one day of this class that will be etched in my mind forever, though I try to erase it. Talia was speaking about how fetishes may be learned, and like teachers occasionally do, they forget that they’re in a professional setting with 18-year-old students. Her English accent spoke, “My ex-husband used to like it when I came home from work. At first, I thought he missed me all day, but when he later asked me, albeit politely, on my day off to put my work clothes on, I realized…anyway that didn’t work out for other reasons, but fetishes are not uncommon or to be ashamed of.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, surely a teacher would never say this, I tried to block out everything she had said, but I wanted to know more.

She didn’t know that I had wondered she was sexy any time before, so I let myself wander around my mind just this one time. Was she wearing stockings? Maybe a pencil skirt? Were they high-heels? What was underneath? All of the thoughts men are afforded every day in the privacy of their minds. I go through all the possibilities like letting my hunger decide on what sounds the tastiest when dining. I notice my heart beating a little faster after the wondered, so I stopped. It wasn’t that I wondered I’d get caught, I had gotten away with finding her attractive before, so I would be in the clear, but my mind had this protective thing where I just stopped anytime I was drifting to a fantasy. Anyone else would probably see a therapist about this, but for me, avoidance had gotten me through to this point. I was in the clear anyway, I had gotten away with it.

But then I did feel this potent residue of what she said to run up my arms, and thighs. A little like being naked in a cold breeze, not that anyone really does that. My heart jumped for a second to my throat and I again suppressed it, but the harder I tried the more affected I felt. Like I wanted to fantasize about these things, I wanted to keep exploring her in my mind. I wanted to look for her photos online and imagine… And then the shaking moved up my thighs, and I prayed it wouldn’t do it. But then I looked down, blood engorging me. I know people probably say, ‘oh baby I’m so hard for you, I’ve never been this hard in my whole life a lot like it’s a trope of porn, but I’d really never been this stiff. The last time I relieved myself from anyone, other than a porn star, was the first time, and the consequences of that were so embarrassing that I couldn’t bare it. Talia asks me, “Michael, are you paying attention, or are you lost?” I wasn’t sure whether my absent look may have been what she saw, or whether she knew that I was attempting, with all my strength, not to imagine her sitting on my desk with her heels against the wall above my shoulders. But then I was in the clear, “You just look distracted, Michael. Just try to keep up.”

Shit, Keep up! What does she mean? Is that literal or is it ‘keep it erect.’ No, I am in the clear. I must be. Fuck she’s so hot at 47, she’d know so much more than me. I’m young, maybe she hasn’t had a hard lively cock in years. I must stop this, but so far, I’m getting away with it. It’s difficult for me not to push the envelope, this might be the one person I can get away with it with. She knows nothing! But what if she does?

I think about the prospect of her knowing nothing, then I can finally fantasize and cum over her. And if she does know, then maybe it’d be a compliment that someone young like me thinks about her like this. No, she’d be disgusted, she’s professional. But she is a psychologist, so she is discrete, maybe she’s offering this to me to let out my frustration. But maybe she genuinely doesn’t know, and if she found out, I’d lose my place in her class.

Like any guy my age, I just want to cum, but I’m beginning to realize the excitement that belongs before real ecstasy. The tension and unsureness alone are driving me to want more of her. The obsession over someone whilst avoiding obsessing over them is akin to standing on a balancing beam held between two planes. You know that test that people give you, “Don’t think about an apple.” And you immediately think about an apple, that is the catch-22 I’m in. I imagine Eve wondered about apples always, while Adam was probably preoccupied fantasizing about Eve.

Between classes, I try to study to keep my mind off her, Talia not Eve, and it does work. I know that I can’t really fantasize about her, she will somehow figure out as every woman does.

—

My Friend Danny offered if I wanted to go to the beach today. Which was a perfect distracter, it was a really hot day. While I usually avoided the beach completely, I realized that I was okay so long as I sunbathed with my eyes closed or looked out into the ocean when I was swimming. I get to the beach, and Danny’s mum Ashley, and 5-year-old sister are there with Danny. Every time I see Ashley, I get worried. I have accidentally fantasized about her, and I didn’t know if she knew. She was laying on the beach in a bombshell bikini. She was the first time I masturbated. I’m not gonna lie; I was a really pervy guy. And looking at her like this now grips me back into the one greatest moment of ecstasy I’ve had. I had wandered into my best friend’s mum’s bathroom while she was at work, who at the time I referred to as a total MILF. Danny and I had just been in his pool, and I went to use the shower. He went to the shower next to his room, and told me, “Just use the one in my parent’s room, they won’t care.” On the way to the bathroom, I became curious. I’d likely never be in this room again on my own. I checked the drawers; I saw some dirty movies. Then, I came across a collection of home pictures strategically placed between two books that would be intended for my friend’s dad. There she was, she was giving a sexy smile to the camera and bent over to expose her cleavage in her denim shorts and a tight button-up flannel that very few people could make sexy. As if that wasn’t enough, the next one she had a G-string on and was bent over the end of the bed I was standing at. Everyone at college knew she was hot. When she picked Danny up from college, she’d at all times wear tight jeans that just cupped her ass perfectly, though the t-shirts she’d wear at all times had food spilled on them, likely from her daughter. It amazed us all how she could have 2-kids and still be so hot. But I was the only one getting to see what was underneath, I was in shock. She was so sexy, but not like ‘Victoria’s Secret model sexy.’

More like a real type of sexy, where what she would think were her imperfections made her way sexier. Like the two little stretch marks on her right ass cheek that makes you want to bite it, or the cellulite dimples around the top of her big thighs. The next photo was her lying on the bed, now with her left hand placed in her red, lacey Brazilian panties. And the last photo was the climax of the crescendo. It was her, wearing what I later learned was called a teddy. She’d lifted the bottom of the lingerie up to reveal her right labia, which I’ve wanted to taste ever since. I do suppress these thoughts, but they are still there.

After slowly looking at these amazing photos, I notice two pairs of underwear crumpled up on the floor. One was the G-string in the photo, and the other was a black pair of what looked to be ‘everyday panties.’ It was better than looking up at the night sky and watching the light travel from a star that existed a thousand years ago. I could take in her pussy from yesterday, I could smell every second of it. I could smell how where her clit rubbed a little against the fabric, and maybe that would be enough to get her wet. Yesterday, this is exactly where her wet pussy dripped every time she got turned on during the day. Maybe she has a secret work crush that she bares all day, and that’s why it has the residual of these wet spots. Maybe she gets bored, and her daydreams lead to fantasies. I lay her photos out on the bed. I press the best part of her panties up to my face and imagine how fun it would be to fuck such a sensual woman. I wrap her other panties around my cock and imagined yesterday’s pre-cum dripping onto me. I imagine her watching me stroking myself to her, I imagine her blushing over how attractive I discover her. I imagine her taking her lips around me, staining me with her cherry lipstick, and touching herself while she’s on her knees. I wonder what she thinks about when she fucks herself.

And then I finish, not into her panties of course. But when she got home that day, she looked at me like she hadn’t before. It was a look of disgust, but maybe that was just in my head.

Sometimes it was hit and miss with whether women found out, I rarely ever risked it, but usually, I could find out instantly whether they knew. Danny’s mum and my teacher are the only two women that I’m unsure about. I still don’t know a lot about this condition I have, but I’m beginning to think women don’t ever figure out if they are past a certain age. So, maybe I’m destined to take my frustration out on older women.

After swimming, we’re all lying on our towels to dry off. Danny’s sister begs us to take her to get ice cream, and Ashley interjects, “Danny, go get her a damn ice cream.” I get up too, but his mum grabs my arm, “No, I wanted to talk to you about something to talk to you about an offer.” I gulp. Is this about what I did?

While the two were off to get Ice-cream, I’m staring at a woman, whose panties I’d sniffed, laying on her stomach with her ass facing right at me.

“Okay, Michael, I wanted to give you a job proposal seeing that you’re in your final year of school, and your home-schooling occurs in the morning, not the afternoon.”

I’m relieved.

I just give a generic answer, “Oh, okay?”

“Yeah, so the kids and my partner, George, aren’t home between 12-and-3 in the afternoon, and I was hoping you might help me run my errands around then, maybe three times a week? I can pay you about $15 an hour.” I am so relieved, this means she doesn’t know, so my age theory may be correct. “Of course, I would be happy to help.” And then I avoid looking at her ass, in case my theory is completely wrong and I’m exposed, and dead in the water on the beach.

—

It’s a particularly hot day and I said I’d help Ashley clean the pool and the garden today. I walk in, and she’s laying in a one-piece by the pool. I know that sounds suggestive, but it’s not. I’d often seen her with that on whenever we went to the beach, or I went swimming. She pulls her sunglasses down to look at me, smiles, and pulls her hair out. “The pool catcher thingy is just over there.” She gestures to the right.

I begin doing what I’m getting paid to do, as she watches.

Now look, I am trying not to get hard, because I know she’s watching me. But the fact she’s watching me is the thing that’s turning me on a little. I look over my shoulder at her, and she smiles and winks at me. She’s watching me. I mean I am 18, and attractive enough, but I don’t have rock-hard abs or anything. Why get me if you want eye candy?

She asks, “Did you bring your swimmers?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t think I’d need them?”

She looks at me and says, “I guess you won’t need them then.”

I didn’t know what she meant. So, I just kept going. Then I hear a splash behind me, “Too bad you didn’t bring your swimmers, hey?”

“Yeah, it is hot too, but I’m okay.” And then I saw the way her breasts looked in the water, and she caught me looking and smiled. Her boobs were probably D-cups, not that I would know. They weren’t perfect either, they were still firm, but they sagged ever so slightly. This added an element of realism to all of this, to me looking at this beauty. I loved how they sagged slightly in the water, I imagined her areola was large for some reason. I mean, doesn’t that happen to mothers? I was in awe of her womanhood and her real, but sext body.

And then my dick started moving, and she was watching. It slowly became impossible not to notice. And as I realized, she was looking, I turned away. She stated, “You could always wear your underwear in if it’s too hot, I’ll look away.”

I didn’t think this is what I was gonna be doing. I decided that it was the best option to hide my erection. Then the conversation turned typical, “What do you want to do when you leave school.”

I answered with a quick answer that was a complete lie, just to get her paying attention anywhere else than me.

Then she got out of the pool, “I’ll get you a towel, but what do you want me to wear for the rest of the day?”

I looked at her shocked by what she was asking.

Then she smirks at me, “What would you rather, the red one or the teddy?”

I stopped in my tracks, “Sorry what do you mean?”

She replied, “I mean exactly what I said.”

With my heart gulping in my chest, and my dick at attention I awkwardly said, “The red G-string.”

She winks at me and walks inside.

I’m incredibly hard, but now there’s no point in hiding it. I get out of the pool as she comes back with only her G-string on and hands me a towel.

She looks at my hardened cock and nonchalantly states, “I’m guessing that’s how you think of me?”

I’m lost for words, so I just nod.

God, she looks so hot, I want to screw her from behind.

She says calmly, “It’s a compliment, I don’t get a lot of attention anymore.”

And then adds, “Men are afraid to look at women these days, I came from a time where whistling was a compliment, albeit an annoying one, but at least you knew what men thought.”

I looked at her and quietly murmured, “You’re so hot.”

We went inside and my underwear was still drenched. The erection protruding from my underwear outward made the water drip more on the floor.

In response, Ashley gently grabbed the towel wrapped around me and got down to wipe it up.

I was kind of turned on by how domesticated she was. Whilst I disagree with wolf-whistling and perpetuating traditionalist values, there was something unbearably sexy about an attractive woman late into her 40s already being domesticated, and automatically fixing things for me. There was something so hot about a woman having the attitude of ‘boys will be boys.’ I knew this was probably because I’m a guy, and want a woman that lets me get away with anything, and blames my dick for my actions. But I also think this is something I will likely never have, it’s a thing of the past, and so it’s exciting and rare.

She pointed her ass up to me as she wiped the water up, and I could see a few stray pubic hairs seeping out of the right side of her G-string. I inhaled deeply as I imagined burying my nose in deep, but I tried to control my desire. I had suppressed what I wanted for so much of my life that I knew that indulging too much would make me cum too early. But it was hot that she knew every dirty wondered I’ve ever had about her, and she still accepted me.

Then she said, without looking at me, “Put your face up to it and try to figure out what I’m thinking right now.” After a brief pause, she added, “put your mouth over it as you imagined in my room.”

My dick had never been so hard. I wanted to feel whether her vagina was wetter than my salivating tongue. I wanted to be used by her in any way she wanted.

After about a minute of breathing in her aroma through the fibers of her G-string, she got up and took my hand, and ushered me to her bedroom, immediately pushing me onto the bed.

She left her red panties on and put one leg over my head, as she sat on my face. Then she yelled aggressively at me as her hips slowly gyrated, “Think of the dirtiest thing you can imagine me doing, and I’ll do it for you.”

I was trying not to cum. The pleasure I denied myself for so long was right there in front of me. I remember how it felt to orgasm, the relief was unexplainable. I was completely engorged, but I wanted this to last forever. I imagined her pulling her G-string to the side and spreading her asshole on my face. And so, she moves up to her knees to manoeuvre her panties to one side. Though she had shaven enough to barely see anything with a G-string on, she had a gorgeous outline of black pubes surrounding her vagina that surprised me, her asshole also had some additional smaller hairs that she had clearly tried to shave but missed. This would bother some people, but it added to the experience to know that the sweat and cum from her vagina will get stuck in the little bush rubbing up on my tongue. My excitement multiplied, and I couldn’t help but look deep into the holes between her cheeks.

I wanted to have my tongue in both of them simultaneously but knew I could only have one at a time. So, I wondered of her spreading her asshole as wide as she could over my mouth so I could taste the sweat that accumulated throughout her day as a domesticated wife. I wanted to taste her hard work and devotion.

She responds, “Wow. You’re a fucking disgusting pervert.”

I stop. She’s disgusted by me.

She looks back at me, and states, “Okay. I don’t think it’s possible to spread as wide as you want, and I don’t know how well I cleaned there last time it needed to be cleaned, so I wouldn’t go too deep anyway.”

She sits her ass on my lips and slightly spreads her right cheek creating the sexiest dimples and ripples from her cellulite. Her right cheek is clinging to my right cheek, and I can really smell her ass now. Then she moves her left cheek over my other cheek and pushes her hips down, which puts more pressure on my head but allows her ass to stay wide open.

I felt this odd feeling of being so horny that I was becoming turned-on by something that I would otherwise discover disgusting. Like I had explored something deep within myself. I knew her ass smelt bad, I mean it was ass, but for some reason it was the best scent I’d even taken in.

I open my moth, and move my tongue into her, wanting to taste her perfectly bad hole. Despite, her warning, I try to go as deep as I could. She ignored her own warning too, as she starts to pump her hips up and down, forcing me in deeper.

“You want my shit streak on your tongue, don’t you pervert?” She yelled uninhibitedly.

She gets up off my face, and orders me, “Stick your tongue out.”

Then laughs, “look, your tongue is dark now.”

Then she pauses… and silently begins sucking on my tongue. Automatically, I go to kiss her, but I stop as she grabs my balls tightly above my wet underwear.

“No. Just let me suck on your shit-stained tongue. Keep it out.”

I bare the awkwardness of not kissing her, as she begins to lick and suck on my tongue. She moans and seems absorbed in her own pleasure, something I have never been able to do.

As she enjoys her dirty self, I become nervous thinking about how she is gonna be the first woman to see my dick. It had never occurred to me until this moment that it might not be good enough to please her.

She knows what I’m thinking and looks me in the eyes, “Well show me it and I’ll tell you.” She says warmly.

I nervously pull my wet boxers down for her to judge if I’m enough, and she smiles.

“Do you want to find out if you can please me?” she whispers with a raspy voice.

She begins to slowly run her nails six-inches from the base to the tip, as she whisper in my ear again, “Do you think you can last for a horny neglected mommy?”

I almost cum the second she says that, as though her words make it so much more difficult to relax my balls and stave off being over-excited.

She adds another whisper, “I don’t suck my husband’s dick anymore, but your very special.” Then she slowly licks her cherry lips, and adds, “Do you think I can exchange all of my lipstick to your dick?”

She grabs the panties she had on before and wraps them tightly around the base of my penis, tying them in a tight knot. This makes me engorge as much as I think I possibly could. I can see precum slowly running from the tip to the base with the speed of a fondue fountain.

She begins to run her teeth around my balls, gently biting and licking between the base of my cock and both of my neglected balls. She looks up at me, “I’ve never deepthroated my husband either, would you like that?”

Before I could answer an overwhelming yes, she is already slowly edging my cock down her wet mommy mouth into the back of her throat. I can feel the overwhelmingness of orgasm being out of my hands now. Regardless of how hard I try, I don’t think I can hold off when she’s throat-fucking my cock. She rolls her eyes back and looks up at me, staring into my eyes lost in endless pleasure. She grabs my ass cheeks and thrust them towards her to move my dick even deeper into her throat, and I can feel her gag-reflex rubbing my cock as she forces herself to take it for my pleasure. Despite the discomfort of her gag-reflex, she’s so domesticated that she wants to bare it, as she can see my face light-up each time she chokes. I’d imagine most women would stop before the onset of gagging, but she’s held her position for three gags.

On her fourth gag, I can feel her almost vomit on my dick, so I pull-out and see the red lipstick stains that she displaced on the base of my cock.

She spanks me hard and tells me, “My husband would beg for me to gag-wank him off, and vomit on his cock if he knew I was willing to do it, and you pulled away!”

“Okay, come with me.” She said as she grabbed me and took me to her shower that I used after masturbating to her photos. She turned the shower on, and said, “now we’re going to try again, and if anything happens it’ll be easy to clean off.”

She slowly brushes her lips over my cock and back to her favourite base and holds it there. This time it takes about five-seconds before the first gag, and its wet soft muscle glides under the tip of my dick. Then she holds it for ten-seconds, and gags twice in succession, which was almost too much to handle, so I held her head down on my cock and started humping her wet tight throat. She gagged twice again, but then she couldn’t take it, and I could feel her spew a little on my dick, and she thrusted my hips into her throat again, so as to fight the instinct to recoil. She looked up at me with teary eyes and mascara running down her cheeks, and to see a domestic and somewhat conservative woman in that state motivated me to keep fucking her throat until I choked her with my years of pent-up tension. I could feel her spew again, but this time it ran out of her mouth and acted as lube for my dick. Then almost as an involuntary action she started to pee down her thigh and onto the shower floor, which for some reason turned me on even more. I stopped humping and watched her clear piss, and her slight embarrassment accompanying it.

She looked away from me, and told her, “Look at me while you’re pissing.” And she spewed again, and I grabbed her head and held her mouth to the piss soaked floor and told her to lick it. I then spread her ass again and slid my dick into her dirt hole. Humping as hard as I could, watching her eyes tear up as she licked her piss and screamed when I fucked her ass too hard.

And I could feel all of the tension I have had move to its peak, I almost couldn’t bare the feeling in my balls anymore. I grabbed her hips and pulled my dick out of her ass, and slid it into her wet vagina. I could feel the friction of my humping brushing against her pubes, and I felt my balls tense up in intense agony. And then I felt every part of me shoot out of my dick, as though I was the most alive I have ever been, but I felt like it was so good that it could kill me.

I yelled, “I love you!” though I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ll never fuck another woman like her.

I was still convulsing and squirting sperm into her after two-minutes. I was shaking, and couldn’t stop like it was infinite pleasure.

And then, it did stop.

“Wow.” She spoke, as cum was oozing out onto her pubes.

I got dressed, and very little was said, as she lay in her mess.

I walked to the door, and she reminded me to grab the $15, which felt wrong after the pleasure I just received.

And before I left, she said, “Think about me tonight.”

NSFW: yes

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