Memoirs of a Lustful Girl (Pt. 1)


     It’s the middle of January and I have never felt so helplessly alone. This evening is calm and uneventful, yet he’s the only one creeping into the depths of my mind, like a black cat strolling through the shadows in the alleyways at night. The aches of my loneliness echo throughout my mind and body, craving for his attention. I can’t help the yearning sensation of my feminine blooming flower as I sit and gently touch myself. Vulnerable, I lay in bed, day dreaming about the day he’ll be home to please me repeatedly. If I recall correctly, I get lost in the ecstasy of the slightest touch that involves his warm fingertips and the heavy hands that groped and caressed me every night. How could it be that only his touch and presence alone can arouse me without all the exaggerated sexual pleasures? He had me wrapped around his finger and knew he could have me on all fours if he simply demanded.

     I guess that’s what keeps me waiting in anticipation. The fact that this human being has so much power and control over my physical body and mind, really overwhelms me. The way he would raise my exhausted body up and down, in sync with his when I could no longer perform and ride him continuously, orgasm after orgasm, proved to me how complete we were when intoxicated by each other. He always carried me and wanted more. So strangely attractive that was (still is) for him to keep wanting me when I can last no longer. For him to crave my restless body and still find it just as enticing as it was when I was prepared, horny and thirsty for his sweet, pure white, almost transparent bodily fluid.

     I kept tossing to each side of my bed as I squirmed around with my hands between my legs, applying pressure from my thighs to contain the throbbing of my pussy lips and clitoris. I breathe in and hold my breath to calm my body down so I can relax my muscles and nerves. Breathing out, my mind wanders and I start to think about how the last letter I received from him described the way he built up the courage to behave so seductively. In the letter he explains how he couldn’t contain himself and how he just had to break the rules of our visitation at the facility that he currently resides in. I can’t help but to tune into my reminiscent thought so profoundly that I can almost feel when his hand grazed my soft, perky breasts and pinched at my nipples over the laced, underwire bra I had purposely worn that day. I can feel his eyes as they undressed me as we spoke to each other and I can feel when his thoughts and mind were fucking my brains out as he sat across the small table that divided us. I recall as the visit ended and before I left, he gave me a romantic hug and copped a feel, firmly cupping my pussy from behind. As he released me from his grasp he slid his hand, slightly splitting my lips over my skin tight, black jeans and ran it all the way up my ass, making sure to put pressure on my asshole and cheeks. He gave me a little spanking and he made sure he let it be known that everything he just touched was his and his only. I can’t help but to think about how detailed he gets in his letters, that perversely I start getting wet at the reminiscent thought of reading it. I get a little more soaked at the thought of even reading it again. How easy it was for me to produce such sticky, sweet extract at the mere thought of him.

     I looked frantically to the right of my bed where my medium-sized, fold-able tray or in other words my makeshift end table was located. In pure bliss, I gazed upon the neat stack of envelopes that occupied about one-fourth of the surface of my “nightstand”. About 1 foot away from where I rest my head was the stack of envelopes that carried me and satisfied all my sexual urges over the past few months. Those letters contained some of our most memorable kinky, spontaneous sex adventures and stories. It was one of the many vaults that contained our dirty, little secrets and we had access to these sexual delights not only in our minds and in pictures, but also in writing. Which in my opinion was so dramatically arousing, due to the affectionate effort to illustrate what we want to do to and for each other, but with words. It was the only way I could get off and genuinely pleasure myself when I was alone. Just like how I am tonight.

     Inside my head I was contemplating when would be the appropriate time to unleash all this eagerness towards my inappropriate desires and fantasies. It was the middle of the night and I couldn’t think straight. My conscience kept tugging towards the corner of my mind where nothing but surrendering impurities dwelled. The corner of my mind that housed the kinkiest, most sensual pleasures that you were so accustomed to hearing or seeing on the internet. The difference between this tantric experience and what is provided to you on the web is its tantalizing, surreal sexual bliss. The closeness and delectation were incomparable to the charlatans on your computer screens. This type of sexual fixation was growing and growing and it was soon to become untamable.

     I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Like a fiend I was experiencing withdrawals from my guilty pleasures. I haven’t had a good dicking in a while—I perversely said out loud to myself. I let out a deep sigh of frustration. I turned over onto my stomach and stretched outwardly, kneading my pillows like a kitty preparing for a nap. I lifted my lower back and pointed my ass towards the ceiling, facing the mirror in the opposite direction of my bed. I looked back, only to catch a glimpse of my white, light green trimmed, cherry panties hugging the curves of my soft cheeks in my reflection. Mmmm—I moaned a little to myself. He loved these cherry panties. He always used to dominate me into this position and tie me up just to admire the intimates that clanged onto my body so perfectly. A delectable treat it was for him to undress my feminine physique with his teeth and get right to the juice of my peach.

     So alluring, I can hear his voice in the back of my mind. I can feel the warmth of the breath that fell off his lips onto my skin and I can feel the urge that he has to take complete control over me radiating off his aura. In an instant I had traveled back to the time where I was a slave for him. A perfect, good little girl that submitted to every command.

     “Get on your knees… I said get on your knees,” he purred in my ear. “You’ve been such a good little girl. I think its about time I give you exactly what good girls like you get when they behave.”

     I was caught by the warmth of his breath on my ear, the intensity in his eyes and the way he pressed my body against his. Without a circle to cast, he put me under his spell. I did as I was told and didn’t fight or debate a word.

     “Oh..uh..yes sir,” I nervously said as I stumbled on my words. I slowly lowered my body, lightly grasping onto his shoulders. As I deescalated, I desperately ran my hands down his defined chest and along the sides of his perfectly carved out ribs and hips. My bony knees quivered as they kissed and imprinted onto the brown, memory filled carpet.

     Admiring me from above, he slyly smiled as he paced around me checking out every angle I had to offer. “Such a good girl, I swear…” he praised. With two of his fingers, he swept the hair that was hiding my dark-chocolate, brown eyes and half of my face to the side. When he did that it drove me crazy.

     “Oh my god and those eyes….don’t hide those sweet, innocent eyes from me, doll.” He religiously and infatuatedly implored. I shyly smiled and started to nervously fidget with my fingers. “Are we nervous darling?” He knowingly teased, aware of the abrupt energy shift in the room and my sudden uneasiness. My body language gave it all away about how anxious I was to find out what exactly he wanted to do to me. He could read and see right through me so easily. It was terribly intimidating.

     I curiously lifted my head up a tad bit and peered up at what seemed to be a devilish yet charming smirk that laid upon his androgynous face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I boldly asked. I wasn’t quite sure that I was prepared for the answer he was going to give me, that almost instantly after I asked him I looked down. Buried behind my thin, at the time raven black hair, I noticed my lip starting to quiver. In hopes that I won’t bleed, I started nibbling on it to keep it still.

     He started to laugh a little to himself. He took a deep breath and reached out with his right hand and lifted my chin up towards him. He gazed into my eyes and sternly replied,”Oh sweetie, you’re going to be getting a mouth full.”

     We continued to lock eyes in complete silence. This went on for about a couple of more seconds and before I could even react he walked off and went to the opposite side of the room. My eyes followed his every move. He was looking for something that seemed to reside on his black bookshelf. I was curious as to what that could possibly be. Could it be possible that he was going to torture me with a horrid object? Maybe something very strangely pleasing? My mind was running wild with all the possibilities. I was afraid but intrigued. I took a deep breath to brace myself for the fear of what the following events might be.  Torture me…with nothing but sexual favors…I hope…—I anxiously mumbled to myself. After a minute or so, I heard him let out a sigh of satisfaction.

     “Here they are!” He keenly said. When he turned around and faced me, he was carrying  black, soft, fuzzy handcuffs. The type you see in kinky porn videos and sex shops. My mouth dropped a little in shock. I was instantly overwhelmed because I have never been handcuffed in any way. I was a good girl so I had no reason to be restrained against my own will, especially not in handcuffs for that matter. He flashed me this devilish look. His intentions were immediately displayed without him even having to say a word. His body language and his eyes were all I needed to see to understand that I was going to become his submissive; whether I had a say in it or not.

     He slowly but surely made his way over to me and started to caress my face. Trailing his index finger around my lips, he passively asks me, “How badly do you want to satisfy me, Amy?” He was already staring carelessly into into my eyes, so I couldn’t hide and look away. Inside my body was already yearning to please him. I think I was more or so intimidated about how I would exactly express that to him. I was a timid girl and expressing my naughty and probably very inappropriate desires out loud would probably sound extremely foreign. Especially coming out of a innocent girl’s mouth like mine. I wasn’t used to these type of questions. Almost as if I was like a virgin to this whole situation and he was stimulating my mind waiting for the perfect moment to penetrate it with his lustful actions, ultimately popping my cherry. Ironic, I know.

     He flashed me his iconic smile and started to slightly project signs that he was growing a little impatient. He was eager and willing. You could read it in his body language as he stood in front of me. “Well are you just going to sit there or are you going to answer me sweetheart?” He questioned.

     I continued to internally panic. I was so unprepared and coy that I was literally drawing a blank. I couldn’t put any words together to express to him exactly what he was doing to me nor was I able to gather any words to express what I could be doing  to him. I began to overthink to myself. Would I be punished if I didn’t respond in the correct way. How dominant was he planning to get with me? Should I be afraid or aroused? 

    “Okay maybe I’m overthinking it,” I unknowingly mumbled, out loud to myself.

     “What was that sweetie?” He curiously asked.

     And in that instant I was suddenly enlightened by my arousal that I threw all caution to the wind and began to behave in a manner that wasn’t familiar to me at all. I leaned forward and grabbed for his waist band that was provided to him by his slim, well fit jeans. He was already bulging out of them projecting to me that he has been waiting for me to relieve him of his sexual frustration. Whether I was going to be a good girl or not was determined by how my body would react to him. If he laid a finger on me in such a way there’s no telling if I would lose control. All I could do in that moment was hope that I can submit to his desires and not displease him.



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