Language: English / Genre:home_sex / Series: Diary novel

Make me come!

W Collins



Walter Collins

Make me come!

CHAPTER ONE

The day I was changed into a nympho started peacefully. After breakfast and chores I took a warm shower. Glowing from it and a brisk toweling I went to my aunt's room to model in front of the mirror. It was only the third week of my two-month stay and already, every inch of my slender body had darkened with the start of a golden, back-yard tan. My waist-length brown hair was starting to streak a little and I couldn't help giggling at the thought of ending the summer with sun-bleached hair on my cunt.

I was really happy and proud of myself.

It was really great. I had time to think, time to dream, time to plan and time to write long letters to my steady boy friend back in Los Angeles. I read the movie magazines and confession stories as they were brought to me with the groceries each week. I had even managed to read three of Rod McKuen's poetry books.

Right then, looking in the mirror and vainly examining my big, well-developed tits cunt-hair, I was about to start on what had become a daily ritual.

It had been easy to promise Gary, my boy friend, that I would be faithful. I had been here before and knew how isolated it was. There wouldn't be any temptation, so he was safe. I really missed flicking in the back seat of his mother's car. It was fun and I really enjoyed it. We never did anything kinky. He would just play with my tits until my cunt got all wet, then he'd climb on top and fuck me until we exploded.

We usually managed to make it two or three times a week and I was thrilled to feel and know that my orgasms improved each time. From the first time, when my brother and his wife introduced me to sex, until the day before I left for the farm, when Gary and I said good-bye, it had gotten better and better, and I loved it.

Now, without him there to help me I had taken up masturbation. The favorite dream I had while rubbing my cunt was of being raped. I was never hurt in my daydream. It was just that I liked to think I was forced. Then it wasn't my fault.

Standing in front of the mirror I stroked my flat tummy with my soft hand and slid my fingers into my cunt-hair. I scratched the delicate flesh under the hair lightly as I pictured a big, handsome guy crawling quietly through the open living-room window.

My middle finger found the top of my split and sent a shiver through it as the digit trailed down the crack to the tip of my clit. My imaginary attacker slipped up behind me. Wetting my lips with my tongue I used the fingers from either side of the busy one to spread my cuntlips and pull the flesh of my clit-hood tight.

The center finger found its mark. Dipping away for only a second to collect some of my cunt-juice at the entrance of my pussy, I brought it back and started to gasp in delight and picture myself being forced onto my aunt's bed.