Stories
AUNTY SAID by Noeleen Ginnane
As I jammed the creamed bun down my throat and wiped sugar from my cheeks, Aunty Betty said, 'You really need to learn to practise some self-restraint, Missy'. She had no idea just how much I in fact did.
It was at a family wake, those years ago, Aunty Betty said that. No-one in the world could have known that my favoured method of masturbation was to tie myself into dad's worn old armchair and wriggle free. I'd sit in the great chair, strap a rope around me, tighten it, sling it around again, tighten it more, and around and around until I twined the rope under itself and then pushed my hands beneath the restraints and proceeded to wriggle myself free.
The struggle was enormously titillating for not only was I fevered to free myself from the compromising position before any family should arrive home, but also for how the rope mauled my sensitive body, presented hard resistance against my jerking hips, flicked my clitoris up and down as I fought to liberate it from the bonds. Those days were mighty self-satisfying, although did fall by the wayside when I discovered the opposite sex.
I hadn't thought of those days for years, until one night at my place when I found myself in the company of three other people, discussing masturbation. It had been a great night, a cocktail party thrown for my choicest friends. We'd had a magnificent feast, great wine, had discussed world events, a bit of work, the legal system, the Seven Wonders of the World - and then near 2 a.m., for some reason the topic of conversation turned to masturbation. I and the three lingerers sat and lay around my lounge room talking masturbation. Well, confessing it, really.
I don't recall who initiated the topic, but I sobered a little to realise that Jim was seriously disclosing what turned him on alone in his flat, just hours before he'd turn up at work and hand me reports on refrigeration systems.
'I lean against the wall' he said, and paused as if testing whether the waters were safe. It seemed they were for no-one objected to his honesty - or that is, no-one said a word.
'I put one hand up and I lean into it. I'm facing the wall and I pull, gently at first as always. My man likes it gentle for starters'.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I sat up a little. Should I stop this stuff? What were the others thinking?
'I imagine I'm standing over a woman. She's scared of me because I'm a man, I'm strong, greater, I've got it over her'.
Yeah, sounds like a man's fantasy, I laugh to myself!
'And as I get it going, she starts to feel it too and she's bucking for it. She wants to say it's disgusting but she likes it because she can feel it too. Her nipples are reaching out for me, her breasts are surging toward me. I pull harder, lean more into the wall. My dick almost touches the wall, which is her, but it doesn't - except for momentary little grabs of sensation and - shit. You know. I, oh man - someone else's turn. Man. Oh, man...'
Leah is quick to jump in. She's hot to go. She liked it. She tells something about a beer bottle between her thighs, face down on the floor. The neck of the bottle only just touches her clitoris as she humps herself up and down on it. She grinds up and down, the tip of the bottle only touching, only touching. It makes me hot to think of. 'Look mum, no hands!' she giggles, and we all crack up laughing.
Then Benjamin goes, and then it's after that they all look at me. 'Oh' I say. 'Oh, I -' - I can't say I don't masturbate. It's a part of my daily life! It's part of everyone's life.
'Come on', Leah coaxes. 'It won't go past these walls'.
So I look at them all, determine they're all so boozed they'll forget by tomorrow, and I tell. I tell about wriggling out of dad's old armchair, about the time my sister almost caught me in the act, how she gave me a weird look, a suss look, as if I was something strange and wicked - and how that turned me on! It was such a secret, such a delicious pleasure, and it was all my own.
My story seemed to take longer than the others'. I tend to go off into my own world, to elaborate, describe in detail, relive, to tell all. By the time I was finished, my party lingerers were speechless.
'Well' said Benjamin, finally. 'I think we should all go home. It's late, don't you think. And after all, if they ask us at work what we did on the weekend, we don't really want to tell now do we. So let's put tonight to rest'.
We all looked at each other like dumb cats in a blind alley. I decided it was over. I stood up. 'Thanks for coming' I said, immediately regretting my choice of words. 'We'll have to do this again some time'. People took the cue from there. Before I knew it, my home was my own again and I sat on the couch hardly believing what just went down. I had just knocked back the last drop in my glass when the doorbell rang.
Uncertainly, I answered the door and discovered Benjamin in the stairwell. 'Forgot my mobile' he said, and asked to come in. I let him.
I watched Ben make for the couch, take a cursory look over it, then turn around to face me. As we stood face to face he put his hand inside his jacket, withdrew his mobile phone and dialled a number. My phone rang. I looked at him, ridiculously. I then answered the phone.
'Hello?'
'It's me, Ben'.
'You jerk! Why are you ringing? What are you doing?!'
'Please invite me to watch you.'
'What?!'
'Please. What you said, the way you said it, I've known nothing like that before. Please do it tonight. Let me watch you. I won't say a thing.'
I had reached that time in the night when boundaries, self-limitations and self-reproach for harmless pursuits of pleasure all seem to disintegrate into insignificance and I stood holding the phone, looking at Benjamin, reading absolute desire all over his face. As a woman single, a lover of life, as one who won't persecute myself for anything that comes naturally, and as one who had longed to see Benjamin raw, I decided everything was okay.
I put the phone down, walked to my hallway cabinet, withdrew surplus rope I stored there in case the tow rope in my car was mislaid, and I took it to the lounge chair. I dropped the rope, went to the CD player, figured Eminem for music, and returned to the chair. By then, Ben had made himself comfortable on my couch. This was weird, this was weird, but oh it felt good.
I pretended Ben didn't exist and hoisted myself into the chair. I placed the rope around my waist, swung it around the back of the armchair and tightened it. I then swung it around again and tightened it further. I did this a few times until there was no rope left and there was nothing to do but to loop it under itself and wriggle my hands and arms under its folds. As I did, I noticed how my short skirt sat upon my thighs. It seemed to feign modesty for my essentials but really aroused the most immodest desires. I desired myself. My arousal was heightened.
Needing no cue but the sudden sense of vulnerability by the fact of my bondage, I began to struggle free. The rope was tight across my chest and as I attempted to jerk leverage, the rope pressed its way down my flesh until it came stuck at my nipples. Then it flattened them as I wriggled and jiggled, until it passed the hurdles and my red hot nipples sprung free. They tingled at their sudden freedom and the rope roughed itself down the rest of my breasts. Over my flesh, the rope rubbed, down and further down as I struggled to free myself.
Now threatening to hold my hips and pussy prisoner, the ropes burned into my bones as I jerked and writhed myself free. Four or five folds of rope lay over my clitoris as I wriggled, sweating and breathless now, Ben watching intently. I was only half aware of him as I lapsed into myself, feeling acutely the arousal of my clitoris rubbed by the ropes. I sighed and closed my eyes. The pleasure was tremendous.
I became momentarily alarmed when Ben dropped to his knees from the couch, his penis in hand. He had unzipped himself, unbuttoned his shirt, and like a man-sacrifice had knelt before me. He began to stroke his piece before me, and I'm not sure whether it was shock or a sudden surge for freedom but something caused my feet to pound into the floor, which simultaneously caused me to throw myself and the lounge chair backward until I was on my back, on the floor. I was mostly free by then and I wriggled my clitoris, my pubis, my mound free of the ropes.
As I did this, Ben was stroking feverishly, madly. He was delivering sounds of a tortured soul edged with cries near freedom and my stimulation heightened as I heard himself near orgasm. He cried with anguish, excruciating anguish as he stroked rampantly, his penis over my face.
I was suddenly more thirsty than ever before in my life and I wanted only to drink Ben's gush, but it was only almost, almost, almost there and my need for it became unbearably intense.
I was able to free up some rope and was just feeling it pass over my knees when Ben suddenly jerked forward and cried as if it were his last utterance upon this Earth. He screamed and gurgled all in one as hot cum streamed from his penis in a great gush of release. Still on my back, I lifted my pelvis to greet his weeping little man crying for joy, and the cum wet my thighs and pussy all in one. I immediately took to the hot love-lava and thrust three fingers into myself in a frantic need for unity. His army still trembling, I shoved them deep inside me as I fingered myself with a crazed rhythm, quick and urgent, needing. I did this for only seconds while Ben panted over me before I too came and was released from all bonds of this Earthly existence. It was transcendental.
Somewhere near 4 a.m. we were panting over each other, a mess on my lounge room floor. I closed my eyes, Ben carried me to bed, and we slept.
We both missed work the next day, which in itself was cause for rumour, but when Cindy came up and asked me pointedly what I did on the weekend I was so mellow I simply had no defences left. 'I meditated' I told her, absently.
'Oh really?' Cindy replied, catching her reflection in the glossy surface on the wall behind me. 'I heard you and Ben took an interest in each other'. Oh she was aching for gossip.
'Really!' I scolded her, much like Aunty Betty would have done were she there then. 'Well I meditated thank you very much - and don't scoff because I touched upon realms you would only read about'. And I went back to reading my report on refrigeration systems.
Copyright (c) Noeleen Ginnane 2003
This story first appeared in No 15 of 'In The Buff' now re-named THE HOT SPOT. www.hotspotbooks.co.uk All copyrights are recognised and are acknowledged to be the property of their respective owners....
It was at a family wake, those years ago, Aunty Betty said that. No-one in the world could have known that my favoured method of masturbation was to tie myself into dad's worn old armchair and wriggle free. I'd sit in the great chair, strap a rope around me, tighten it, sling it around again, tighten it more, and around and around until I twined the rope under itself and then pushed my hands beneath the restraints and proceeded to wriggle myself free.
The struggle was enormously titillating for not only was I fevered to free myself from the compromising position before any family should arrive home, but also for how the rope mauled my sensitive body, presented hard resistance against my jerking hips, flicked my clitoris up and down as I fought to liberate it from the bonds. Those days were mighty self-satisfying, although did fall by the wayside when I discovered the opposite sex.
I hadn't thought of those days for years, until one night at my place when I found myself in the company of three other people, discussing masturbation. It had been a great night, a cocktail party thrown for my choicest friends. We'd had a magnificent feast, great wine, had discussed world events, a bit of work, the legal system, the Seven Wonders of the World - and then near 2 a.m., for some reason the topic of conversation turned to masturbation. I and the three lingerers sat and lay around my lounge room talking masturbation. Well, confessing it, really.
I don't recall who initiated the topic, but I sobered a little to realise that Jim was seriously disclosing what turned him on alone in his flat, just hours before he'd turn up at work and hand me reports on refrigeration systems.
'I lean against the wall' he said, and paused as if testing whether the waters were safe. It seemed they were for no-one objected to his honesty - or that is, no-one said a word.
'I put one hand up and I lean into it. I'm facing the wall and I pull, gently at first as always. My man likes it gentle for starters'.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I sat up a little. Should I stop this stuff? What were the others thinking?
'I imagine I'm standing over a woman. She's scared of me because I'm a man, I'm strong, greater, I've got it over her'.
Yeah, sounds like a man's fantasy, I laugh to myself!
'And as I get it going, she starts to feel it too and she's bucking for it. She wants to say it's disgusting but she likes it because she can feel it too. Her nipples are reaching out for me, her breasts are surging toward me. I pull harder, lean more into the wall. My dick almost touches the wall, which is her, but it doesn't - except for momentary little grabs of sensation and - shit. You know. I, oh man - someone else's turn. Man. Oh, man...'
Leah is quick to jump in. She's hot to go. She liked it. She tells something about a beer bottle between her thighs, face down on the floor. The neck of the bottle only just touches her clitoris as she humps herself up and down on it. She grinds up and down, the tip of the bottle only touching, only touching. It makes me hot to think of. 'Look mum, no hands!' she giggles, and we all crack up laughing.
Then Benjamin goes, and then it's after that they all look at me. 'Oh' I say. 'Oh, I -' - I can't say I don't masturbate. It's a part of my daily life! It's part of everyone's life.
'Come on', Leah coaxes. 'It won't go past these walls'.
So I look at them all, determine they're all so boozed they'll forget by tomorrow, and I tell. I tell about wriggling out of dad's old armchair, about the time my sister almost caught me in the act, how she gave me a weird look, a suss look, as if I was something strange and wicked - and how that turned me on! It was such a secret, such a delicious pleasure, and it was all my own.
My story seemed to take longer than the others'. I tend to go off into my own world, to elaborate, describe in detail, relive, to tell all. By the time I was finished, my party lingerers were speechless.
'Well' said Benjamin, finally. 'I think we should all go home. It's late, don't you think. And after all, if they ask us at work what we did on the weekend, we don't really want to tell now do we. So let's put tonight to rest'.
We all looked at each other like dumb cats in a blind alley. I decided it was over. I stood up. 'Thanks for coming' I said, immediately regretting my choice of words. 'We'll have to do this again some time'. People took the cue from there. Before I knew it, my home was my own again and I sat on the couch hardly believing what just went down. I had just knocked back the last drop in my glass when the doorbell rang.
Uncertainly, I answered the door and discovered Benjamin in the stairwell. 'Forgot my mobile' he said, and asked to come in. I let him.
I watched Ben make for the couch, take a cursory look over it, then turn around to face me. As we stood face to face he put his hand inside his jacket, withdrew his mobile phone and dialled a number. My phone rang. I looked at him, ridiculously. I then answered the phone.
'Hello?'
'It's me, Ben'.
'You jerk! Why are you ringing? What are you doing?!'
'Please invite me to watch you.'
'What?!'
'Please. What you said, the way you said it, I've known nothing like that before. Please do it tonight. Let me watch you. I won't say a thing.'
I had reached that time in the night when boundaries, self-limitations and self-reproach for harmless pursuits of pleasure all seem to disintegrate into insignificance and I stood holding the phone, looking at Benjamin, reading absolute desire all over his face. As a woman single, a lover of life, as one who won't persecute myself for anything that comes naturally, and as one who had longed to see Benjamin raw, I decided everything was okay.
I put the phone down, walked to my hallway cabinet, withdrew surplus rope I stored there in case the tow rope in my car was mislaid, and I took it to the lounge chair. I dropped the rope, went to the CD player, figured Eminem for music, and returned to the chair. By then, Ben had made himself comfortable on my couch. This was weird, this was weird, but oh it felt good.
I pretended Ben didn't exist and hoisted myself into the chair. I placed the rope around my waist, swung it around the back of the armchair and tightened it. I then swung it around again and tightened it further. I did this a few times until there was no rope left and there was nothing to do but to loop it under itself and wriggle my hands and arms under its folds. As I did, I noticed how my short skirt sat upon my thighs. It seemed to feign modesty for my essentials but really aroused the most immodest desires. I desired myself. My arousal was heightened.
Needing no cue but the sudden sense of vulnerability by the fact of my bondage, I began to struggle free. The rope was tight across my chest and as I attempted to jerk leverage, the rope pressed its way down my flesh until it came stuck at my nipples. Then it flattened them as I wriggled and jiggled, until it passed the hurdles and my red hot nipples sprung free. They tingled at their sudden freedom and the rope roughed itself down the rest of my breasts. Over my flesh, the rope rubbed, down and further down as I struggled to free myself.
Now threatening to hold my hips and pussy prisoner, the ropes burned into my bones as I jerked and writhed myself free. Four or five folds of rope lay over my clitoris as I wriggled, sweating and breathless now, Ben watching intently. I was only half aware of him as I lapsed into myself, feeling acutely the arousal of my clitoris rubbed by the ropes. I sighed and closed my eyes. The pleasure was tremendous.
I became momentarily alarmed when Ben dropped to his knees from the couch, his penis in hand. He had unzipped himself, unbuttoned his shirt, and like a man-sacrifice had knelt before me. He began to stroke his piece before me, and I'm not sure whether it was shock or a sudden surge for freedom but something caused my feet to pound into the floor, which simultaneously caused me to throw myself and the lounge chair backward until I was on my back, on the floor. I was mostly free by then and I wriggled my clitoris, my pubis, my mound free of the ropes.
As I did this, Ben was stroking feverishly, madly. He was delivering sounds of a tortured soul edged with cries near freedom and my stimulation heightened as I heard himself near orgasm. He cried with anguish, excruciating anguish as he stroked rampantly, his penis over my face.
I was suddenly more thirsty than ever before in my life and I wanted only to drink Ben's gush, but it was only almost, almost, almost there and my need for it became unbearably intense.
I was able to free up some rope and was just feeling it pass over my knees when Ben suddenly jerked forward and cried as if it were his last utterance upon this Earth. He screamed and gurgled all in one as hot cum streamed from his penis in a great gush of release. Still on my back, I lifted my pelvis to greet his weeping little man crying for joy, and the cum wet my thighs and pussy all in one. I immediately took to the hot love-lava and thrust three fingers into myself in a frantic need for unity. His army still trembling, I shoved them deep inside me as I fingered myself with a crazed rhythm, quick and urgent, needing. I did this for only seconds while Ben panted over me before I too came and was released from all bonds of this Earthly existence. It was transcendental.
Somewhere near 4 a.m. we were panting over each other, a mess on my lounge room floor. I closed my eyes, Ben carried me to bed, and we slept.
We both missed work the next day, which in itself was cause for rumour, but when Cindy came up and asked me pointedly what I did on the weekend I was so mellow I simply had no defences left. 'I meditated' I told her, absently.
'Oh really?' Cindy replied, catching her reflection in the glossy surface on the wall behind me. 'I heard you and Ben took an interest in each other'. Oh she was aching for gossip.
'Really!' I scolded her, much like Aunty Betty would have done were she there then. 'Well I meditated thank you very much - and don't scoff because I touched upon realms you would only read about'. And I went back to reading my report on refrigeration systems.
Copyright (c) Noeleen Ginnane 2003
This story first appeared in No 15 of 'In The Buff' now re-named THE HOT SPOT. www.hotspotbooks.co.uk All copyrights are recognised and are acknowledged to be the property of their respective owners....
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