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Fappy_Go_Fucky
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@confessions
02 May 2024 12:43PM
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Only ever popped off premature once. Never had a wet dream, which I kinda regret. Never came in my pants.

I had a friend who did though, while we were watching an old Swedish Erotica clip at a bachelor party back in the day. Back then you still needed a screen and a projector. Pat had never had a real girlfriend, had never gotten a handful, not sure he’d even kissed a girl. The movie was on and we were all shouting at it like we knew what we were talking about. Sticks in my mind that it was an old Seka loop (this was the early 80s) and she was about to get it in the ass. Just as the heavily-mustachioed ‘hero’, parted the posterior of his equally hairy companion, you heard Pat say, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no! Fuck!” and off he rushed. We teased him unmercifully, although we were no doubt hard as stone as well.

It started out as an easy day. Kansas in the summer. Hot in the morning. Hottest in the afternoon. Hot all night. I finished mowing the lawn and was walking down the to gas station for a ‘pop’. There were girls and young women laying out on a couple of lawns taking advantage of the morning sun. To a youngster like me, it was like viewing heaven and I was hard all the way to the pop machine and back. But you’d better believe I took the same route home.

The swimming pool opened at 1 and I spent the day at the pool. More swimsuits and sun-tanned flesh. Bikinis. One pieces. Lifeguards. Our regular lifeguard was a beauty named Julie and she had this light pink bikini that I could describe to you still. It was almost transparent enough for you to believe that it was. To this day though, I’m sure I could describe her patch to you, so maybe it was more transparent than I remember. Fuck. Hard off and on all afternoon and all the way home on my bicycle.

Home in time for dinner. No time to jerk off. Talk about a build-up. Looking back at it now, if I knew then what I know now, I would have assumed that if I came at that moment, I’d be completely dehydrated.

That evening I had to work at the concession stand at the local ball diamond. Softball double-header. There were usually of couple younger people, like me, and a couple of older people. That evening one of the teachers from the local elementary school was on. Mrs. Barker. We used to sit up in my buddy’s old treehouse and watch her sunbathe on her deck, which she thought was invisible to the rest of the world, so she sunbathed naked. She didn’t know about the treehouse. Man. Every time I brushed against her that evening, and it wasn’t always an accident, I was hard. Being as old as I am now, I wish it was still that easy.

I was so amped-up and so miserably horny that I rushed out before we were done cleaning up. Fumbled some excuse about not feeling well and bolted.

There was this little bathhouse just past the outfield, but the man was locking it up so I ran over the bridge over the creek and started through the trees to head up the hill to this little shelter, an old, stone, WPA-built picnic shelter thats table was long since gone. I knew that all it would take was a few strokes and I’d be fine.

My cock was banging up against my belly and I could feel each step in my balls as I ran. I was picturing Julie without her bikini and Mrs. Barker without her shorts and t-shirt. I was picturing those young women on the lawn asking me to join them. I was picturing all kinds of things as I rounded the corner into that picnic shelter and dropped my shorts.

And there, like a live-action porno movie, three feet from me, was a guy I knew from the local mechanic shop where my folks had always taken their car to be serviced.

I can still picture it. Like me, his shorts were down. Kneeling in front of him was Tina, someone I knew a little but we didn’t run with the same crowd so I didn’t know her well. She was a mousey, quiet type, lean and angular, with a bookworm’s reputation and who had never gone to school dances when we were in the same school.

She was wearing cut off denim shorts, flip flops, and a softball jersey. The jersey was unbuttoned and pulled back and I could see the curve of her breasts. I could also see Junior’s calloused, mechanic’s fingers were tangled in her hair and it was obvious that his cock was in her mouth to the root. Her hands were wrapped around his waist and were clutching at his ass.

He looked up and grunted, “What the fuck? Hey! Val! Hey!”

The one of her eyes that I could see met mine and she went down a little further on what must have been a very hard cock. I didn’t actually see her grin but I’ve always felt like she did.

And then, like my friend Pat, I stuttered, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

I can’t begin to tell you how much I came. I didn’t touch myself and no one touched me. But I came all the same. Long, ropey streams of which I can still picture. I hit her softball jersey, her hair, his hand, her face, his leg, and the tops of her thighs.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Bobbing down quick, I grabbed the waistbands of my shorts and underpants and yanking them up over my still dripping, still hard cock, I muttered, “Oh hey! Hey, Junior. Tina. Sorry!” And I ran.

That night at home, in bed, with the lights out, I came again. And again the next day. That night I made a call.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is Tina there?”

“Yeah, Tiiiiiiiiina! Get your ass over here! Phone’s for you!”

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tina, it’s Val, I was wondering . . . “

“No. I’m not busy tonight. Whatcha got in mind?”

“Ummmmm, maybe we could . . . “

“Sure. Pick me up at 8?”

“I . . . “

She’d already hung up.

I rolled my old Ford up to her house a few minutes early and she was already on the porch. Dressed exactly the same as last night. Might even have been the same softball jersey.

“Hey, Val!”

“Hey.

“Junior’s pretty pissed at you. You know why, right?”

“Because I came on his hand?”

“Because you came on his hand. And his shorts. And his leg. And then you ran off.”

“What were you doing with Junior, anyway?”

“He has a nice dick.”

“He’s twice your age.”

“He has a nice dick.”

“I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Into what? Sex? Older guys? Dick? I like dick and it likes me.”

“I guess I just didn’t know.”

“I keep my head down and my mouth shut. That’s how bad reputations get started.”

I laughed. “You do NOT keep your mouth shut!”

“And you’ll know exactly how much I don’t, as long as you keep yours shut. Deal?”

“Deal.”

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BeccaLikesButt
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@confessions
24 Feb 2016 10:02AM
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SOME TRUTH FOR ONCE.

I am a pathological liar. Most of what I've posted here as personal experiences were lies. Not everything was a lie. But a lot of it was. I'm still a virgin. I've never sucked a dick or given a handjob or anything. I haven't even kissed a boy in years. I feel like a dirty fucked up slut on the inside, but I'm too shy and anxiety ridden to ever do anything about it. I don't think I'm ugly, but I'm not sexy. I'm probably cute. But I know that guys don't think of me that way. I'm mousey and quiet and awkward and even on the rare occasion a guy does ask me out I either end up bailing on the date or ghosting him but I'm awkward and terrified of anything actually happening. But I obsess over almost every guy I know. Especially my dad. I wear my panties and socks over and over and over again without showering because I love smelling them when I masturbate. I masturbate all the time. I think about licking ass and gagging on cock all the time. Especially my dads. I steal my dad's dirty underwear to smell all the time. I'm obsessed with him and I text him all day and I wish he would fuck me so bad. And I go through phases where I'll obsess just as ridiculously over other guys I work with or my friends boyfriends. Every time I meet a guy I'm imagining them slapping me in the face and forcing me to my knees, putting their dick in my mouth, calling me a stupid slut, like they saw through my facade the second they met me and didn't give me a chance to be awkward or run away. I make shit up all the time. Non-sexual stuff in real life. I come here to act like I'm a disgusting slutty little whore because I'm too nervous and shy to ever do it in real life. But I'm not a slut. I haven't even kissed a guy since I was in high school. And even that was just tame soft kisses. I'm so desperate and horny and such a stupid little liar. And I just had to admit it.

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SluttyPsych
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@confessions
22 Feb 2026 8:57AM
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I'm a board-certified Clinical Psychologist. And I desperately want to fuck one of my clients. More than I've ever wanted to fuck anyone in my life.

I'm 34 years old, 5'4" and about 160lbs. I'd describe myself as cute, soft, a bit quirky, and a little introverted, with long mousey brown hair, and C-cup breasts. I'm also very happily married, and have been for 6 years.

Tom (22M) is a client of mine. I met him 3 years ago when he came to see me at 19, and he is a perfect specimen of humanity. He's 6'2", from Montana originally. Muscular and toned, jaw square and broad shoulders. He speaks in a measured way, his voice deep, and is comfortable with silence.

For the past three years, I was seeing him almost every fortnight, and as I got to know him on a deeper and deeper level, my attraction grew. I fonud myself looking forwards to the days I knew I was going to see him, and going to extra efforts to make myself look nice. I'm not sure if my husband noticed a pattern, but I suspect he did. I don't think I'd ever wanted someone to be inside me with every fiber of my being like I did him.

His increasing vulnerability during our sessions with me just made him hotter and me want him more.

A few months ago, I found myself fantasizing about him whilst I was making love to my husband. That's something I've never done before. A deep, enveloping fantasy where I imagine him picking me up with his strong arms and throwing me over my desk, tearing my panties off, and fucking me hard from behind with his massive young cock. I came so hard on my husband's cock fantasizing about him that I think I squirted a little, something that's never happened before (my poor husband was so proud of himself, bless him). I found myself entertaining the fantasy more and more when we fucked.

This just drove the attraction deeper. I started leaving the sessions after Tom's free, so I could sit on the couch he'd just sat rub one out. I've started keeping a small bullet vibrator in my bag just for this purpose - my husband doesn't know I have it, let alone why I have it.

A few months ago, things escalated: We were having a very emotionally heavy session, with Tom pouring his heart out about some of the schemas we've been exploring. Sitting behind my desk, I absentmindedly started stroking my pussy gently through the soft cloth of my linen skirt and panties. I pulled my panties to one side, and gently slid two fingers in, making it look like I was rearranging myself on the seat. I spent the entire rest of the session, sliding my fingers gently in and out, secretly hoping he'll pick up on the signals I was putting down and take matters into his own hands. The whole sessions I was muttering single word responses to the important things he had to say.

I did not provide good therapy that day.

As he left, he must surely have been able to smell the sex emenating from my every pore. After he left and the door was safely locked, I pulled my soaking panties off, laid back on the sofa, spread my legs, and proceeded to have the most intense orgasm of my life, squirting all over the throw rug I keep on there.

It would devastate my husband if he knew any of this, and I know nothing more could ever come it. Sadly, it's as close as I can ever get to fulfilling this fanstasy. But a part of me desperately wants to fuck his brains out like never before, and go home full of his cum, and risk everything in my life that I've built.

And I know sex with my husband will never be the same again

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Anonymous
@chicks
03 Sep 2023 3:17PM
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Mousey little hoe

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