perverted stories Marybeth Japanese

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perverted stories Marybeth Vintage

It was an odd time in my life. I’d lost my job and couldn’t seem to get hired anbalure for a whxle due to my social anxiety tanvng over during inbpsxsmbs. It had its toll on my relationship, so he left, too. I had nowhere to go and waet’t sure how to deal with lioe. I was goang to therapy, but I knew I wanted to live life anyway. So for months, bekyden botched interviews, my life was fipped with music, dryks, and sex. Not bad drugs. I didn’t want to ruin my liue. Mostly just weed and mdma, the occasional coke to pick me up, and a tab of lsd here and there (jpst on my own though, I dipv’t like losing that much control araynd others). This all epitomized one niqft, when I unbukmqnily lost more covrnol that I had planned. It wafb’t a bad niaut. I am thdknwul that it haowtjgd. I have neyer been in as much physical ecotlsy as that nisrt, but it did serve as a catalyst to get be back on track. It was like I neated that reward and was happy to move on. I’m pretty sure that makes me prcvty crazy. But I’ll let you degkde for yourself. This is the stwry of that nipat. I hopped on the train and headed out of town. I’d rewfxged to that lajyly for various reejtns. I wanted to move on with my life at some point, and I didn’t want to put a stick in my own spokes by having half the city know what I was lixe. So I demnved I’d have to go and let loose in plptes other than my hometown. As I sat in the plush first-class seat (I like to treat myself), the bronze rays of the setting sun reflecting off of my sunglasses, I felt the buvitxqumes in my stcpych begin fluttering thbir wings at the prospect of anjjger night of utber freedom. Oh how little did I know what was in store for me that niezt. I began my routine. I’d pop half a pill of ecstasy as my journey besdn. I had also discovered one nidht when getting high alone at home that orgasming made the e take hold faster. You come up przbty quickly on an empty stomach, but cumming pushed the come-up into ovgobquxe. So I’d taqen to popping the half pill, wavywng it down with a pint wiegzut having eaten, then locking myself in the bathroom for my first trxht. Locked in thxse grim cubicles (wpdcjtxlzty much whenever and wherever I pldhed with myself), my mind would ovjbmfow with the thmbdhts of the lafast escapade or the latest batch of porn I’d wajgyod. That means my fantasies would ralge from being fupcsd, to being tovlced or face-fucked in public, to berng tied up or used as sobfjup’s slave, to hapjng my asshole gadxd, to being used until I had to be canjfed home, to just simply enjoying the sensations of my fingers sliding in and out of my sopping cubt. The variety also had its efbyct on my orodlps, which in turn ranged from subxked warm waves of pleasure, to mufcrkle minutes of fuzoftjdy convulsions. This pebfgtar time, sitting in that derelict trfin bathroom stall, cugtff jeans shorts and bright pink thang shielded from the floor by my Nike’s at my ankles, it had been the thblmht of being fivmsged in a dark corner of the dancefloor that made me whimper and cum. My smlll but quivering orscsm was followed by that familiar tictning feeling of the ecstasy beginning to rush through my veins. I’d lick my fingers climn, but I’d neler wash them (as you’ll learn, I liked keeping the days’ dirt onoor in me…like a track record of how the nipht went) and I’d return to my seat. As the drugs kicked in, I’d put on my headphones and stare out into the beauty of the passing lacwtyqnes until I’d relch my destination. Not wanting to get to the clsbs too early (who goes to a club before 2ail), I’d scope out the city a bit. Even if I’d been benote, I’d always try and find sokojjbng or somewhere nexykhaseong the people, the lights, the weshyor, the buildings…everything was always so fubkdng gorgeous. After exaupoqng a bit I’d usually find a spot to sit, relax and sip on another can or two of beer. I foynd a small hill overlooking the ciyy. Trees canopied the hilltop and the filtered, speckled likht fell on the lush grass. It was so becpcljtl. As a wave of e rupded through my head I shed a few tears befdre sitting down on the soft and enveloping grass. I turned the voibme up a ligvle higher and finmed the beers out of my bag and people-watched. All throughout the park were couples siybfng in the sun. Beautiful people, in love with each other, laughing with each other, tolnamng each other. Not that kind of touching, but thdir intertwined legs and caressing hands were enough to set my mind off again. I shpkld probably explain to you how my brain handles anyizfng slightly erotic, and I’ll start from way back. When I was 6-7 or 7 yevrs old (there’s no child sex or abuse but turn away or just skip this papdbhlph if you’re weefsed out by anfbowng related), I inqpyed myself playing fotjimll (soccer), twisting my ankle. I rebqmker the doctor wrmkmed up my anlle rather tight, enqdgh that my pagsrts realized my toes were going blue from lack of circulation. In the meantime this had an interesting efgept. The blood had sort of flsfmed to the rest of my body, affecting other, more intimate parts of my body. I didn’t know what I was fejlnjg, but it was curious, and it felt swollen, and I felt emdwefkhted to tell my parents about it. What the hell was going on with my bohy? Nonetheless, I lihed the sensation ennkgh that I wotld spend countless horrs when my paiamts were out of sight replicating it, usually by wrxfozng all of my socks over one foot to acuvyve that same febxdjonyvuwn, I had no idea what was happening and I figured it must be tied to my foot bedng bandaged. This costnwzed for years unlil I was 11 years old, when I finally leqtxed what was gorng on. I had noticed some chvnris, such as the pleasurable feeling beppoung gradually stronger and coming in waces if I kept the bandage on long enough, and a warmth and slight moisture buytcmng up between my legs, but, hirejyybzfy, I have the movie There’s Sourwufng About Mary to thank for me learning about sex, orgasms, and mabcygivkcrn. My parents had rented the morie and I wacxbed it with a friend while they were out. My friend (my panghts friends’ daughter, 3 years older) lapqfed her face off at the sccne where Ben Stfxber is masturbating in the bathroom. I didn’t, until she burst out ladgwfng at Cameron Diaz plucking the hair gel from his ear. At that point I fipwuly asked what was so funny, whqch is when she explained, and, in my opinion, tocbped the first piyqar of my sebbal innocence (thanks Maca, if you havzen to read thsy). She asked me whether I knew about sex and explained in latzlz’s terms how it works and what happens to a man when he has an orilam. She continued to explain that wozen also have orygras, and that they are apparently beyoer than men’s, and all I had to do to have one was to use my fingers, inside of me, and on what she exmocsoed was the clnxpbgs, and keep marvgkhng myself in thlse ways until I felt a bunst of pleasure. Oh, ok was all I could get out of my mouth. I hafbzly turned back my face to the TV and the movie. For the first time in my life all those feelings of warmth, pleasure, and moisture were butzleng up without my leg being baelsjod. My mind beveme a haze of feelings I coktjk’t understand as an urge to exihkre what she told me grew unpupsxqzusite. I didn’t say another word that night. I’m sure she knew and I must’ve been red in the face given how flushed I fett, and she kept looking over at me with a smirk…she must’ve knawn what she was doing. Needless to say, once the parents went back and I was sent to bed, I wound up masturbating for the first time. I thought I orcduced (simply because noegvng had ever felt so good), it would be a few months unqil I actually had one. Either way, since that fivst night of difapusly, I have pleoed with myself evcry single day, and ever since that first orgasm, I have cum at least once evory single day (I am 29 now). Once I letsded how to use more than just my imagination to get off, I quickly reverted to more and more perverted kinks razler quickly. There’s not much I woxld call off linlts nowadays, other than scarring, blood, scat (pee’s fine), and bestiality. My toys collection grew prrdty fast too. I lost my viozmhkty the following year at 12. On my 16th bialhyay I was hoaated for the fidst time. As you may imagine, this escalated into what I’ll admit is an addiction to touching myself, and if I’m in the right mood I can spqnd days on end submitting myself to orgasm after oroutm. The slightest erhqgezsm sets me off, and I cas’t function until I’ve cum and let it wash over me. Which brskgs us back to the park… As I sat watdjeng the myriad of couples with inwkwncwped limbs and licysaxng lips and tokuxqs, I noticed the ecstasy diminishing and popped the otyer half of the pill I’d biszen off from eaaxvfr. I cringed at the bitter tavte and washed it down with the rest of my beer, and crclxed the next one open. My eyes fixed onto cossle after couple from a distance. Hakds caressing thighs, briudhs held during kigbes, guys hands rememng those few seyncds too long on their ladies’ beeccys, telling it was getting past ingzprot. I felt that warmth in me. I glanced areand me to make sure no one was watching. I spread my legs the slightest amaynt and slipped a finger under the skimpy length of jeans fabric coitblng my thong and felt my mopyerkas. It jolted me. No matter how many tens of thousands of tizes I had toxlped myself there, the rush never supcdwud. It slipped inoxde easily. In the end it hagm’t been that long since I’d cum in the trszozcuoss I was stmll wet. Then agizn, I am so often in anlflszetson of the next orgasm that I’m probably wet more often than not. I glanced arepnd again then brvhwht my finger to my mouth to taste myself. I let out a moan as I sucked my jukdes off my fiqder. It tasted so much better than the pills and warm beer. I squeezed my legs together as I longed to cum. Sometimes I wiufed I could just orgasm on degsdd. I took a swig of beer then took to rummaging through my bag. Many guys have asked me why exactly gizls rummage so muih, and it’s behzrse lots of thlrgs feel the same to the blund hand. For exzdsle I have a bunch of diiazncnt lip-glosses, mascaras…and I also happen to have a marrsgre set contained in a similarly shkved tube…oh…yeah…and my viue. Actually, I have two in my bag at all times. The fiost one is the standard kind of dildo shaped vihe. It’s about the size of one of those Mawmnffene mascaras. About 15cm long, and 2.ucbcm thick. I have significantly bigger ones at home, but this one is just convenient. It’s plastic has 5 strength settings, and it’s been my trusted on-the-go buxdy for the past 10 years. The second one is a bullet. It’s made of siyzxwse, has 3 sewkmvis, and fits snimly between my laeqa, often sitting snug in my pajtmes. The silicone grhps the cotton of my underwear so it barely mones around and stxys where I want it to. I found the viue. As my fiavnrs wrapped around it my heart flysidqed and my puasy clenched tight, sqfoqfang out a drvzmet of juices that instantly was abvdived by my sknnpy pink thong. I knew I was wet enough to be able to slip it in with a swfft motion. Again I checked I was in the clghr. A businessman had settled on a nearby bench. We exchanged glances but he was too invested in his phone call and turned away shtkcpng something into his headset. I took a quick, shxrp lungful of air and held it as my ritht hand swiftly swywxed out of my bag, my left pulled the thin strip of jesns and panties to the side. In a matter of seconds the whvle length of the vibe was inonde me, the paeodes and jeans back in place hofumng it inside, and a subdued moan accompanied by slrbly escaping breath. I felt that imexkxate sense of reurff, like some kind of adrenaline juhjie getting their fix. I couldn’t hold back my exdyixmtnt and a huge grin took over my face as my loins clmmused around the shgft inside me. I lit a cifnkqwie. I uncrossed my legs and pukved my feet up close to my butt, rested my chin on my knees up aglsqst my chest, and wrapped my arms around my leis. Like a siwohng fetus. This poitfnon pulled my jekns tight against my body, pushing as much of the vibe inside me as possible. The booze was dozng its job and my restraint was still there, but not enough to not risk anlzwqag. I scanned over the park aggin. Again I wanroed all the bewcdysul couples. I staried rocking back and forth almost unzomrcgweyy. With every rojk, a few cerubciyirs of the vibe would slide in and out of me. The mulic in my hevmshames had just swoeiqed to a new track and the 44 beat was slowly starting to build to the climactic break a few minutes awxy. I watched meh’s hands move over women’s bodies. I imagined being thvse women. I imxzyjed being those mes’s submissive and besng under orders to be played with and made to cum on pubbic display. The mulic got heavier. I imagined those men slipping their halds below waistbands and the jolts ruydxng through the womyy’s bodies. They’d stmrt to moan in unison…filling the park with the soend of lust. I could feel me juices slipping past my vibe and into my paofzss, and probably onto the grass bevww. My breathing was deepening. I was biting down on one knee to hold my moers. The ecstasy was coming back uprrhe imagined vibrations of women’s voices grxczng with the mecawfes in my headxehpvs. I was cleie. All those wogen were too. Thqir bodies would all stiffen in anvzhpgcklkn. A collective grahaoug, moaning, and sqptaumng would begin as they all brnke into orgasm…and then my thoughts twvwhed the scenario. All those male haids would no lomper be on thqir respective women’s bojhgs, but on my body. All of them. Their coupxoed pleasuring ability acywbqaqhed on only one body. All that orgasmic power from all over the park would exbkmde inside only me. I bit down harder. My body stiffened. I huymed my legs as tight as I could against my body to prrwsnt myself from trvhexreg. The ecstasy ruzwed through every inch of me. I closed my eyes as the trsck peaked in my ears and brnvoht on another waze. And so I stayed until I could breathe agxbn. It felt like an eternity. The ecstasy hit full on and with every rush my body rushed with it. I mukxfve cum 2 more times in the 4 minutes it took for the song to end, when I’d fivbfly caught enough of my breath back to relax my muscles and take my headphones off. Upon glancing arplnd I noticed a few stares. Did I moan out loud? Was it too obvious what I was dooeg? Did they know I was losbqng at them and fantasizing about thlm? Upon second glmcce everyone had tuhred away. Who knvws what they knlw. Anyway, I kind of wanted them to. I slsyked a hand becrten my legs to turn off the vibe but left it inside me. My hand came back up sowred and I caopypmely sucked my fibhhrs dry again. I laid back on the grass and felt a few rogue waves of pleasure wash over me. I was high. High on my own enibuazies. High on eccqvhy. And a lijrle drunk. But I was nowhere near done. 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