voyeurism

Exposed Desires

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I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the photographs scattered across the bed. Each image was a work of art, a raw and unfiltered depiction of desire. Alex’s talent was undeniable, and I felt a spark of something dangerous ignite within me. I knew I had to confront him, to understand the man behind the lens.

When I found Alex in the kitchen, he was nervously stirring a cup of tea. His eyes met mine, and I saw the flicker of fear in them. “Brooke,” he murmured, setting the cup down with a clatter. “I, uh, I didn’t think you’d find those.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway. “You have a talent, Alex. A real talent. But why keep it hidden?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s personal. Intimate. I never meant for anyone to see them.”

I took a step closer, my voice softening. “I think it’s beautiful. And I want to be a part of it.”

His head snapped up, his eyes searching mine. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, my heart racing with anticipation. “I want you to photograph me. Just for us. A private session. No one else needs to know.”

Alex’s lips parted, but no words came out. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, his mind clearly racing with thoughts. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure? It’s… it’s not just about taking pictures. It’s about trust, about vulnerability.”

I nodded, stepping closer still. “I trust you, Alex. And I’m ready to be vulnerable. With you.”

He hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Alright. But… this changes things. Between us.”

I smiled, a thrill coursing through me. “I know. And I’m ready for that, too.”

The next evening, we set up the shoot in my room. Alex had brought his camera, a sleek, professional-looking DSLR, and a few props—silk scarves, a feather duster, and a bottle of massage oil. The air was thick with anticipation as he adjusted the lighting, his movements deliberate and focused.

I stood in the center of the room, wearing only a sheer robe that clung to my curves. My heart was pounding, but I felt empowered, like I was stepping into a new version of myself. Alex’s gaze met mine through the lens, and I saw the hunger there, the raw desire that mirrored my own.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Let the camera see you. Let it feel you.”

I took a deep breath, letting the robe slide off my shoulders. I was naked now, exposed, but I felt no shame. Alex’s eyes widened as he took in my body, his fingers tightening around the camera.

“Turn for me,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Slowly. Let me capture every curve, every line.”

I obeyed, moving with deliberate grace. The camera clicked, each shutter release a rhythmic pulse that echoed through the room. Alex circled me, his gaze intense, his focus absolute. I felt like a goddess, like every inch of me was being worshipped through his lens.

“Now, lie on the bed,” he said, his voice husky. “On your stomach. Arms above your head.”

I did as he asked, the cool sheets brushing against my skin. Alex knelt beside the bed, his lens inches from my body. I could feel his breath on my back, his presence a tangible force. The camera clicked again, capturing the arch of my spine, the curve of my hips.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to trace the line of my shoulder. “Now, roll onto your back. Look at me.”

I turned, my eyes locking with his. His gaze was hungry, his desire palpable. I felt a heat building between my legs, a wetness that made me ache for him. The camera clicked, freezing this moment in time, this raw, unfiltered connection between us.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Let me see you.”

I did, my thighs falling open, my core exposed to his lens. His breath hitched, and I saw the hunger flare in his eyes. The camera clicked again, capturing my vulnerability, my surrender.

“Touch yourself,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Show me what you like.”

My hand drifted down, my fingers brushing against my clit. I moaned softly, my hips lifting off the bed as I began to stroke myself. Alex’s gaze was glued to me, his camera capturing every moment of my pleasure. The air was thick with tension, with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Let go for me, Brooke. Let me see you come.”

I closed my eyes, my fingers working faster, my body tightening with anticipation. The camera clicked, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. I was on the edge, teetering, when Alex’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against mine.

“Let me,” he said, his voice a command.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and nodded. He took my hand, guiding it away, and replaced it with his own. His touch was firm, confident, as he began to stroke me, his thumb pressing against my clit. I gasped, my back arching off the bed, my body responding to his touch with a ferocity that took my breath away.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Come for me, Brooke. Let me see you fall apart.”

I was close, so close, my body trembling on the edge. The camera clicked, capturing my pleasure, my surrender. And then, with a cry that tore from my throat, I came, my body convulsing, my juices spilling over his hand. Alex’s gaze never left me, his camera capturing every moment of my release.

As my body stilled, he set the camera aside, his eyes burning with desire. He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I reached up, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down to me.

“Fuck me, Alex,” I whispered, my voice raw with need. “I need you inside me.”

He didn’t hesitate, his lips crashing down on mine in a kiss that was hungry, desperate. His hands roamed my body, his touch possessive, as he positioned himself between my legs. I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, thick and insistent, and I moaned into his mouth, my hips lifting to meet him.

“Ready?” he growled, his voice a rough whisper.

“Now,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back.

With a thrust that stole my breath, he slid inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my body stretching to accommodate him, my walls clenching around his thickness. He began to move, his strokes deep and deliberate, his hips snapping with a rhythm that had me gasping for air.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “So tight, so wet.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more primal. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard banging against the wall as our bodies moved in perfect sync.

“Harder,” I demanded, my voice a desperate plea. “Fuck me harder, Alex. I need it.”

He growled, his hands gripping my hips as he pounded into me with a ferocity that had me screaming his name. The room was filled with the sounds of our passion—our moans, our grunts, the slap of skin on skin. I was drowning in sensation, my body on the brink of another orgasm.

“Come with me,” he rasped, his voice a command. “Let’s come together, Brooke.”

His words sent me over the edge, my body convulsing around him as I cried out, my juices spilling over his cock. He followed, his thrusts stuttering as he buried himself deep, his seed pulsing inside me. We stayed like that, our bodies trembling, our breaths ragged, as the world around us faded away.

Finally, he collapsed beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. I turned to him, my lips curving into a satisfied smile.

“That,” I whispered, “was incredible.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I think the camera agrees.”

I laughed, a soft, contented sound, as I snuggled into his side. The air was still thick with the scent of sex, with the aftermath of our passion. I felt a sense of closeness, of intimacy, that went beyond the physical. Alex had captured me—not just on film, but in his heart. And I had captured him, too.

As we lay there, the camera sitting silently on the bedside table, I knew this was just the beginning. Our connection had deepened, our trust solidified. And I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us next.

Reflections of Desire

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I’ve always had a thing for mirrors. Not just any mirrors—the kind that let me see every curve, every line, every detail of my body as I move. There’s something intoxicating about watching myself, about knowing I’m the one in control, the one creating every moan, every shiver, every gasp. It’s like I’m both the performer and the audience, and the show is always for me. But sometimes, just sometimes, I let someone else watch. Like Jed. Jed was different. He didn’t just want to fuck me; he wanted to see me, to understand what made me tick. And when I told him about my mirror habit, his eyes lit up like I’d just handed him the key to a treasure chest.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of my bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. I’d just finished a batch of chocolate chip cookies—my specialty—and the scent of butter and sugar still lingered in the air. Jed was lounging on my bed, flipping through a book of poetry I’d left on the nightstand. He looked up when I walked in, his brow furrowed in concentration, but his gaze softened when he saw me.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the handheld magnifying mirror I was holding. It was an old thing, the kind you’d find in a vintage shop, with a brass handle and a circular glass that magnified everything to three times its size.

I smirked, setting it down on the dresser. “You’ll see.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Jed was good like that—patient, curious, but never pushy. I crossed the room to the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. The mirror was old, its edges framed in carved wood, and it reflected the room back at me in perfect detail. I could see Jed watching me from the bed, his book forgotten in his lap.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked, turning to face him. My heart was pounding, not from nervousness, but from anticipation. There was something thrilling about knowing he was about to see me like this, raw and unfiltered.

He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I’m sure,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I want to see you, Mary Ellen. All of you.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then I turned back to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. My red hair fell in loose waves down my back, and my pale skin seemed to glow in the soft light. I was wearing one of his button-down shirts, the tails hanging just past my thighs, and nothing else. I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and warm, as I reached behind me to unbutton the shirt.

One by one, the buttons came undone, the fabric falling open to reveal my bare breasts. I watched in the mirror as Jed’s gaze flicked down, his throat working as he swallowed. I smiled, a slow, knowing curve of my lips, and let the shirt slide off my shoulders, pooling at my feet.

“Fuck,” he murmured, and I felt a rush of heat at the sound of it.

I stepped closer to the mirror, my nipples tightening as the cool air touched them. I reached for the magnifying mirror, holding it up to get a closer look. The glass magnified everything—the delicate veins beneath my skin, the faint freckles scattered across my chest, the way my nipples pebbled into tight buds. I traced a finger over one, watching the movement in the mirror, and let out a soft sigh.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jed’s voice was rough, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him biting his lip, his eyes glued to my reflection.

“Mmm,” I hummed, not bothering to deny it. “You’re watching, aren’t you?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again. “Every fucking detail.”

I smirked, turning back to the mirror. I lowered the magnifying glass, letting it hover just above my stomach, and slowly trailed it downward. My breath quickened as I watched my hand move, the magnified view giving me a close-up of my skin, the faint dusting of red hair at my core. I parted my legs slightly, just enough to give us both a better view, and felt a rush of wetness between my thighs.

“Jesus, Mary Ellen,” Jed groaned, and I glanced back to see him shifting on the bed, his hand resting on the bulge in his jeans.

I bit my lip, my heart racing. “You like what you see?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I want to see more.”

I smiled, a wicked little twist of my lips, and lowered the magnifying mirror further. The glass caught the light, casting a distorted reflection of my pussy back at me. I was already glistening, my lips swollen and parted, and I could see the faint flutter of my clit as my breath quickened. I pressed the edge of the mirror against my inner thigh, watching the way the cool glass made my skin goose bump, and then trailed it upward, closer to the heat.

“Oh God,” Jed whispered, and I glanced back to see him unbuttoning his jeans, his cock already straining against the fabric.

I smirked, turning back to the mirror. “You want to touch yourself, Jed?”

He hesitated, then nodded, his cheeks flushing. “If you do.”

“I do,” I said, my voice steady. “But I want to watch you. I want to see you watching me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hand slipped into his jeans, wrapping around his cock, and he began to stroke slowly, his eyes never leaving my reflection. I watched him watch me, the sight of his hand moving over his thick length sending a jolt of heat through me. I was dripping now, my clit throbbing, and I pressed the magnifying mirror closer, letting it hover just above my pussy.

I reached down with my free hand, parting my lips to expose my clit. The magnified view was obscene—my flesh swollen and pink, the hood pulled back to reveal the sensitive bud beneath. I circled it with my fingertip, watching the movement in the mirror, and let out a soft moan.

“Fuck, Mary Ellen,” Jed groaned, his strokes speeding up. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I smiled, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I pressed a little harder, my breath hitching. “Keep watching,” I murmured. “I want you to see everything.”

I lowered the magnifying mirror further, pressing it against my clit, the cool glass sending shivers through me. I could see every detail—the way my lips stretched around the edge, the glistening wetness coating the glass, the faint pulse of my clit as I rubbed against it. I added a second finger, slipping it inside my dripping cunt, and moaned at the sensation.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed, my head falling back as I watched myself in the mirror. “Jed, I’m so close.”

“Me too,” he rasped, his hand moving faster now, his cock thick and flushed. “Come for me, Mary Ellen. Let me see you come.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I pressed harder against the magnifying mirror, my fingers moving faster inside me, and let out a sharp cry as my orgasm hit. My body shook, my muscles clenching around my fingers, and I watched it all in the mirror—my face flushed, my lips parted, my eyes squeezed shut as I rode the waves of pleasure. My juices coated the magnifying mirror, dripping down the glass, and I moaned at the sight, at the knowledge that Jed was watching it all.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his hand moving frantically now, his cock glistening with pre-come. “Mary Ellen, you’re—”

His words were cut off by a sharp cry as he came, his body arching off the bed, his cum spurting over his hand and chest. I watched him in the mirror, my own breath still ragged, as he shuddered through his release, his face contorted in pleasure.

When he finally collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving, I turned to face him, a satisfied smile on my lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

He grinned, wiping his hand on the bedsheet. “Best fucking show I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed, a soft, breathless sound, and walked over to the bed, my legs still a little shaky. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, and tasted myself on his mouth—salty and sweet.

“Next time,” I murmured, pulling back slightly, “I’ll let you touch the mirror.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached up, tangling his hand in my hair. “Next time,” he agreed, his voice low and promising, “I’m going to fuck you while you watch yourself in it.”

I shivered at the thought, my core already aching for it. “Deal.”

And as I climbed onto the bed beside him, the mirror still reflecting the aftermath of our pleasure, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Not by a long shot.

Renata’s Online Encounter

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I had always been a bit of an adventurous soul, especially when it came to my sexual desires. At 42, I still felt young at heart, eager to explore new experiences and indulge in my fantasies. So, when I stumbled upon an online chat room one lonely evening, I couldn’t resist the temptation to dive into the unknown.

As I scrolled through the various conversations, a private message popped up on my screen. “Hey there, sexy lady. You look like you could use some company.” The sender’s username was ‘YoungFinn,’ and his profile picture showed a handsome young man with a mischievous smile and piercing blue eyes. I was instantly intrigued.

“Well, hello there, YoungFinn. What makes you think I need company?” I replied, playing along. “Oh, I can sense these things. I bet you’re craving some excitement, something to spice up your night.” His words sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t deny that he was right. My life had become a bit mundane, and the idea of a virtual adventure with a stranger was enticing.

We exchanged a few more messages, flirting and teasing each other. Finn was witty and charming, and his youthful energy was infectious. Before I knew it, we were discussing our fantasies and desires, each word making my heart race faster.

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for older women,” he confessed. “There’s something so sexy about an experienced woman who knows what she wants.” I blushed, feeling a surge of confidence. “And what is it that I want, in your opinion?” I asked, my voice dripping with anticipation.

“I think you want to watch me,” he said, his tone turning husky. “I want to show you what a young stud like me can do. Let me prove that age is just a number.” The thought of watching this mysterious young man perform for me sent a rush of heat between my thighs. I felt my pussy growing wet, and I knew I was already getting turned on by the idea.

“Oh, really? And what makes you think I’d be interested in watching you, Finn?” I teased, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably.

“I can show you,” he replied, his voice confident. “Let’s take this to the next level. I’ll turn on my webcam, and you can watch me do whatever you want.”

My heart was pounding as I considered his proposal. I had never done anything like this before, but the idea of a private show just for me was irresistible. With a few clicks, we exchanged webcam links, and soon I was staring at a live feed of Finn’s bedroom.

He was shirtless, his toned chest glistening in the soft light. His hair was tousled, and his eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Are you ready for me, Renata?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.

“I’m ready,” I whispered, my fingers trembling as I adjusted my own webcam, making sure it was focused on my face. I wanted him to see my reactions, to witness the effect he had on me.

Finn grinned, and my heart skipped a beat. “I’m going to start slow, but feel free to guide me. Tell me what you want to see.”

“Show me your hands,” I said, my voice hoarse with desire. I wanted to see those strong, young hands caressing his body, touching himself for my pleasure.

Finn obliged, bringing his hands into the frame. His fingers were long and graceful, and he slowly traced them down his chest, teasingly close to his nipples but never quite touching them. I bit my lip, my eyes fixed on his every move.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, his voice a soft purr.

“Oh, yes,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “Keep going, Finn.”

He smiled, a devilish glint in his eyes. “As you wish.”

With that, he reached for the button of his jeans, slowly undoing them as if he was unwrapping a precious gift. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the denim slide down his narrow hips, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs that hugged his growing erection.

“Oh, Finn,” I moaned, my hand unconsciously moving to my own breast, squeezing it gently as I imagined it was his hand on my body.

He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through me. “You like that, don’t you? Want to see more?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with need. “Show me everything.”

In one swift motion, he pushed down his underwear, freeing his thick, throbbing cock. It stood proudly, the head glistening with pre-cum. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, my mouth watering at the sight.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Yes,” I managed to say, my throat dry. “It’s perfect.”

Finn’s hand wrapped around his shaft, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Tell me what you want me to do, Renata. I’ll do anything for you.”

His words sent a jolt of power through me. I felt like a goddess, commanding this beautiful young man to pleasure himself for my entertainment.

“Touch yourself,” I commanded, my voice gaining strength. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

Finn complied, his fingers moving to his nipples, pinching and rolling them gently. He let out a soft moan, and my pussy clenched in response. I could feel my own juices trickling down my thighs as I watched, transfixed.

“That’s it, Finn,” I encouraged, my voice growing bolder. “Now, take your cock in your hand and show me how you’d fuck me.”

He smiled, a wicked smile that made my knees weak. “Like this?” He began to stroke his cock with long, firm strokes, his hand moving in a slow, rhythmic motion.

“Yes, just like that,” I whispered, my free hand now sliding down my body, finding the damp fabric of my panties. I began to rub my clit through the silk, my eyes never leaving the screen.

Finn’s breathing became ragged as he increased the pace of his strokes. “I wish I could feel your hands on me, Renata. I’d love to feel your touch.”

His words sent a wave of desire through me. I imagined my hands on his hard body, my fingers wrapped around his cock, guiding it into my wetness.

“I want to see you come, Finn,” I said, my voice thick with need. “Show me how you’d make me feel.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m close, Renata. I want you to watch me explode.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he brought himself to the brink. His hand moved in a blur, and his hips bucked off the bed. With a loud, guttural moan, he came, his cum shooting onto his chest and stomach, the white streaks contrasting with his tanned skin.

I watched, mesmerized, as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm, milking every last drop of pleasure. My own fingers worked furiously between my legs, matching his rhythm, and I climaxed with him, my body shaking with the intensity of my release.

As our breathing slowed, Finn smiled at me, his eyes sparkling. “That was incredible, Renata. Thank you.”

I smiled back, feeling a sense of connection I hadn’t expected. “It was my pleasure, Finn. Truly.”

From that night on, our online encounters became a regular affair. We would meet in the chat room, eagerly anticipating each other’s company. Sometimes, I would watch him perform, his body a work of art in motion. Other times, he would watch me, his eyes burning with desire as I touched myself, imagining his hands on my body.

Our virtual trysts became a secret addiction, a steamy escape from the mundane realities of everyday life. And as the days turned into weeks, I found myself craving more, eager to explore the depths of this digital connection with the captivating YoungFinn.

The Secret Affair

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I should have known better than to snoop around like that. But curiosity got the better of me, and little did I know, that innocent peek would lead to a night of forbidden passion. It all started when I went to visit my old college friend, Brenda, for the weekend. She had invited me to stay over at her place, a cozy suburban home, to catch up on old times. As I settled into the guest room, I noticed the closet door was slightly ajar, and a thin ray of light was seeping through a crack in the paneling. Intrigued, I approached it, wondering if it was a hidden window or a crack in the wall.

As I moved closer, I realized the crack was just wide enough to provide a glimpse into the adjacent room—Max’s room, Brenda’s son. I felt a twinge of guilt, but my curiosity got the better of me. I peered through the crack, expecting to see an ordinary teenage boy’s room. But what I saw took my breath away.

Max, a tall, lanky 18-year-old with dark hair and a mischievous smile, was sitting at his desk, his computer screen glowing in the dimly lit room. At first, I thought he was doing homework, but as I watched, I realized he was watching something on his computer—something that had him completely engrossed.

My heart raced as I realized it was porn. Max was watching a video of a mature woman, a MILF, being seduced by a younger man. The woman’s moans filled the room, and Max’s eyes were glued to the screen. I felt a rush of excitement as I watched him, knowing I shouldn’t be spying on him like this, but unable to look away.

As the video reached its climax, Max’s hand moved to his crotch, and he began to stroke himself through his jeans. I could see the bulge growing, and my own body responded, my nipples hardening under my shirt. I bit my lip, feeling a strange mix of arousal and guilt. Max’s breathing became heavier, and he unzipped his pants, freeing his erect cock.

He started stroking himself, his hand moving in a steady rhythm. I watched, transfixed, as his long, slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, his thumb teasing the tip. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back in pleasure. I could see the muscles in his forearm flexing with each stroke, and my own hand unconsciously moved to my thigh, my fingers curling into the fabric of my pants.

Max’s moans filled the room, and I could see his face contort with pleasure. I imagined what it would be like to be the one touching him, to feel his hard cock in my hand. I bit my lip harder, trying to stifle my own moans as I watched him bring himself to the edge.

And then, it happened. Max’s body tensed, and he let out a low, guttural groan as he came. His hand moved faster, milking his cock as he shot his load onto his stomach and the desk. I watched, mesmerized, as his cum glistened in the dim light. My own breath was ragged, and I felt a throbbing between my legs, a wetness forming in my panties.

Max slumped back in his chair, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. I realized I had been holding my breath, too, and let out a quiet sigh. I felt a rush of adrenaline and guilt as I realized what I had just witnessed. I quickly stepped away from the closet, my heart pounding.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to act normal, chatting with Brenda over dinner and pretending everything was fine. But my mind kept drifting back to Max, and the image of him stroking his cock was burned into my memory. I couldn’t believe I had just watched my friend’s son masturbate, and the thought of it made me both excited and ashamed.

As the night wore on, I retired to the guest room, unable to shake the arousal that had been building since my clandestine viewing. I lay in bed, my body tingling with desire. I knew I should be sleeping, but my mind kept replaying the scene from earlier. I felt my hand drift down to my pussy, my fingers tracing the outline of my wetness through my panties.

I couldn’t help myself; I had to touch myself. I slid my hand inside my panties, my fingers immediately greeted by the warmth and wetness of my arousal. I moaned softly, my body craving release. I began to stroke my clit, my fingers moving in slow circles, imagining it was Max’s hand on me.

As I brought myself closer to the edge, I heard a soft creak from the door. My eyes flew open, and I froze, my hand still between my legs. There, in the doorway, stood Max, his eyes wide with surprise. I realized he must have heard my moans and come to investigate.

“Meredith?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

I was mortified, caught in the act by the very person I had been fantasizing about. I tried to pull my hand away, but it was too late. Max had seen everything.

“I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, my face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Max took a step into the room, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I just… I heard noises and wanted to check on you.”

I could see the bulge in his pajama pants, and I knew he was aroused. The thought of him watching me touch myself sent a jolt of desire through my body. I couldn’t believe this was happening, but I couldn’t deny the intense attraction I felt towards him.

“Come here,” I whispered, patting the bed beside me.

Max hesitated for a moment, then closed the door softly and approached the bed. I moved over, making room for him. He sat down, his body close to mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I kept thinking about what I saw earlier.”

Max’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in close, his breath warm on my neck. “Me too,” he murmured. “I couldn’t get the image of you out of my mind.”

I turned to face him, our lips inches apart. “Show me,” I whispered, my voice laced with desire.

Max’s hands found my waist, and he pulled me towards him, his lips crashing down on mine. The kiss was hungry, passionate, and I could taste the desire on his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, our bodies pressing together.

His hands roamed over my body, exploring my curves through my thin nightgown. I moaned into his mouth, my hands tugging at his shirt, eager to feel his skin. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I want you,” he whispered, his voice raw with need.

I nodded, my heart pounding. “I want you, too.”

Max’s hands found the hem of my nightgown, and he lifted it over my head, revealing my naked body to his hungry gaze. I shivered as his eyes traveled over my breasts, my nipples already hard and aching. He cupped them in his hands, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, making me arch into his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips finding my neck, his teeth gently grazing my skin.

I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his warm skin. I unbuttoned his pajama top, exposing his toned torso, and traced my fingers along the ridges of his abs. He sucked in a sharp breath as I lowered my hand, my fingers brushing the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

“Touch me,” he pleaded, his voice thick with desire.

I smiled, my fingers already reaching for the drawstring of his pants. I tugged them down, revealing his hard cock, standing proudly, already glistening with pre-cum. I stroked him gently, my fingers wrapping around his length, feeling his throbbing veins.

“Oh, Meredith,” he groaned, his head falling back as I pumped my hand up and down his shaft.

I wanted to taste him, to feel him in my mouth. I leaned down, taking the head of his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, tasting his salty essence. He moaned, his hands threading through my hair, guiding my movements as I took more of him into my eager mouth.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he whispered, his hips thrusting gently, encouraging me to take him deeper.

I sucked him eagerly, my hand stroking the base of his cock as I bobbed my head, taking him to the back of my throat. He was so hard, so thick, and I loved the way he filled my mouth. I could feel his balls tightening as his orgasm approached.

“I’m gonna come, Meredith,” he warned, his voice strained.

I pulled off his cock, my hand stroking him faster, wanting to see him lose control. He gripped the bedsheets, his body tensing, and then he exploded, his hot cum shooting onto my breasts, some landing on my face, the taste of him mixing with my own arousal.

“Oh, God,” he panted, his body trembling.

I smiled, licking his cum from my lips. “That was incredible.”

Max collapsed beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I snuggled up to him, my hand resting on his chest, feeling his heart racing.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice filled with both satisfaction and guilt.

I turned to face him, my finger tracing his jawline. “Why not? We’re both consenting adults.”

He shook his head. “You’re my mom’s friend. It’s just… complicated.”

I understood his concern, but I couldn’t deny the connection we had just shared. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently. “This can be our secret.”

Max smiled, his eyes filled with desire and uncertainty. “Our secret, huh?”

I nodded, my hand finding his cock again, already hardening at my touch. “And there’s no reason we can’t enjoy each other while we’re here.”

He groaned, pulling me closer, his lips finding mine once more. “I think I can agree to that.”

And so, in the quiet of the night, with the risk of being discovered by Brenda, we began a passionate affair, exploring each other’s bodies with a hunger that could not be denied.

Watching Me Masturbate

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Being more mature does not mean having no sex drive. Sometimes it means having to work harder for that orgasm that came so effortlessly in our younger days, but many women that are older now have the time to explore their bodies like never before. I’ve always enjoyed masturbating in many different ways. With my fingers, with the water massager in the shower, with a vibrator, pool jets in swimming pools. There’s so many different ways. Fingers always seemed the most natural way, but as we get older, some of us may lubricate a bit less than before, and a good lube to keep things slick is a must.

Many times callers will confess they will wake up in the middle of the night and masturbate and then go back to bed. That does happen. In the morning, it can almost seem dreamlike and surreal. I have my bottle of lube on the bedside table, easy to access at any time. To reach over in the dark and make my fingertips all slippery and then start to caress my already excited clit feels wonderful. Masturbating on your back can be the most comfortable for some, it is for me, but sometimes laying on your side and just bucking against your own hand can be very arousing as well.

So many callers will say they edge themselves for hours, days or weeks even. Teasing themselves and not allowing themselves to come to orgasm. In the knowledge that when they do finally allow themselves to cum, it will be a blockbuster. All the frustration of bringing yourself to the brink and back again. Many callers ask if I’ve masturbated in front of my man, since most men love to see a woman pleasure themselves. Yes, I honestly think it’s quite educational for the man to watch that. Men don’t know how to read our minds, if they see how you like to be touched by watching you do it yourself, then they will be better able to please you.

Years ago a boyfriend of mine asked rather sheepishly if he could maybe watch me masturbate. It was so cute how he asked, I could see him blushing as he did. I knew he wanted to, but he didn’t want to seem like some kind of pervert. His timid nature was cute at times. I told him yes, he was free to watch as I made myself cum. I didn’t want a spotlight or anything, but there was soft lighting and candles. He pulled a chair in my bedroom closer to the bed. I laid back and raised my knees a bit, my feet on the bed. I caressed the outside of my pussy before opening my lips. I have long nails, and it feels nice to lightly run the nails all over the pubic area.

Slowly teasing myself, I opened my cunt lips. They were already getting moist. I spread myself wide and I could feel his eyes on me. I could hear him breathing a bit heavily. My performance was obviously arousing him. I dipped my fingertips into my pussy, scooping up some wetness to smear it on my clit. It felt so good. I began to slowly buck my hips up and down as I ground my fingers into my clit. My nipples were hard, my breasts shaking a bit as I bucked back and forth. The squeaking of the bed as I rocked back and forth on it made it all the more real as he watched me with rapt interest.

I alternated between making tiny circles and up and down motions on my pussy. I glanced over at him and smiled as I saw he’d taken out his cock and was stroking it up and down in his hand as he watched me masturbate. He was getting close to cumming as I myself was approaching my own orgasm. I love masturbating, but with someone so intently staring at my crotch is a bit nerve wracking. I did understand however he was learning how I enjoyed being touched, and this little educational show and tell would pay off for me later, when it was his turn to touch me and he knew exactly how I liked to be touched. I came and cried out. So did he. It was enough excitement for one night for us both. I do look forward to the next time we get together and I can see how much he learned from our little lesson.