What I Think About When I Masturbate - Part 6 - The Number 38 - Sex Stories

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What I Think About When I Masturbate - Part 6 - The Number 38

Date: 10/12/2015, Categories: First Time, Author: Quiteshygirl, Rating: 12, Source: LushStories

throbbing, glistening penis, only centimetres from my face. He begins to pound it, looking down at me as I watch him. He clearly likes the way this shy, pretty college student gazes at his cock, her eyes taking in his every detail. It must brings back memories for him. As his climax approaches, he gasps and leans forward. A long white string of semen erupts from his pulsating cock, squirting out forcefully and spraying my face and blouse. Then another ejaculation hits my face, his hot cream running down my blushing cheeks, over my closed lips and down my neck. My eyes are closed as I feel more semen hit my forehead. He finishes and steps back. I open my eyes, my face dripping with his warm cum, as he looks down at me. Then, he takes out some tissues from his pocket and wipes his hand and penis clean, before putting himself away, and sitting down again. We sit in silence. “My niece liked me doing that to her,” he says quietly. "She enjoyed tasting it." I gaze out of the window, and feel his semen on my face and neck, warm and creamy. Cautiously, I open my mouth, and lick my lips, tasting his warm cum as I swallow. My first experience of semen is slightly salty and his aroma fills my senses. I open my rucksack and take out some tissues, wiping my face and neck dry, before cleaning off his cum from my blue blouse. It is a sticky mess and his semen stains will show all through the day at college. He watches me clean off his semen in silence. “I do hope you didn’t mind,” he says. ... I don’t really know how I feel. Ashamed of myself for not getting out of there? Disgusted with what he has done to me? Guilty that I have let him do it? Like a dirty slut? I shake my head. “No, I dont mind,” I say, almost whispering. The bus arrives and I get on. As I climb up the step, I feel the unmistakeable sensation of wetness between my legs, as my pussy betrays my arousal. He sits alone. Sad. Days go by. I don’t see him. I think about him all the time now. Who is he? Where is he from? Another week. It is nearly the end of June. And then one morning he appears. Still wearing the same tweed jacket and corduroy trousers. “Good morning. A lovely one,” he smiles. “Yes, very,” I reply, my heart beating at his arrival. He sits down and silence descends. Without saying anything, I turn in the seat to face him and lift up my left foot, placing it on the wooden seat. As I do, my short white mini skirt rises up my thighs. Nervously, I pull the hem up to my waist and my light blue lacy panties are revealed, my smooth pussy outlined against the thin material. As the cool morning air reaches my private parts, I can feel my wetness making my panties damp. My cheeks begin to grow hot with embarrassment... or is it arousal? He looks at me, and I give him a shy smile. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly. After a slight pause, I nod. “Yes, I think so.” He reaches down, and I feel his hand gently rub against my puffy lips. I let out an involuntary moan at his touch, as he traces the outline ...