I’ve always wanted to try writing a short series.
I feel…..raw this morning. My boobs ache, a sure sign that today’s the day and my period will arrive before noon. As I rise from my warm bed, even the passage of the duvet over my body feels like fine-grade sandpaper. The shower doesn’t help. A thousand hot needles. Everything seems alive, a hundred times more sensitive.
Unusually for me, I reach for a bra. Not that I need one, but today, I feel a soft cotton trainer bra is what my aching boobs need. The panties accompanying them likewise are soft, cotton. I cast a quiet glance in the mirror….God, I look ridiculous. They aren’t even my sexiest undies. I straighten up from closing the drawer, and sit at my dressing table to brush my hair.
Almost immediately I feel wetness. Damn. Has my monthly visitor arrived early? I spread my legs and shove an inquiring hand into my panties. Nope….but boy, I’m wet. And aroused. So I put my hand back and touch my sensitive love bean. Deep inside me, I feel a contraction and more wetness floods out.
Usually, at this point, I need the cooperation of Miss Brain. I need to wait while she flicks through her scrap book entitled ‘Things Anna Wanks Over’ looking for a memory, and image, or a fantasy. Sometimes, Miss Brain might take her pen and write me a sexy story….they can take a while to make me cum, even as I think this, I really don’t feel like a long, drawn out wanking session this morning, but I know better than to try and dictate the order of play. Upset Miss Brain, and she will simply flit from image to image, scenario to scenario, until I can’t focus on anything, and I can’t cum. Best to let her have her way.
I gently stroke myself while she decides, and as I do, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. That’s it! Miss Brain leaps at the sight. Watching myself do myself? I haven’t done that to this extent before.
My eyes don’t leave the mirror. Slowly, I tug a bra strap over my shoulder. It doesn’t expose my boob, but it does look wanton….as does the movement visible under the material of my panties. My back straightens causing the bra to shift slightly over my sore tits. Except the soreness has mutated into something else. They still ache, of course, but the ache is….pleasurable, somehow.
My left-hand drifts down to my exposed crotch and pauses, a finger just under the elastic of the leg hole. Slowly, oh….sooo. Slowly, I tug the material aside, exposing my labia, and the glistening channel between them. I am so horny! So horny, in fact, that I can, if I lean back a little, even see my hole start to gape.
The overall look though is…..experimental…..a girl exploring her body. A finger from my left-hand dips into my hole just a little and comes away glistening. I bring it to my nose, then I suck it. I love its smell and taste, so I go back for more, dipping further inside myself this time.
My right hand, I notice, has slowed right down, just keeping me bubbling along. But I can’t stay like this for long. My left hand, seemingly on a mission on its own, pulls the bra strap further down my right arm. This time, it keeps going until the soft material peels off my boob. Its perky nipple is rock hard and so sensitive to the air currents. The air conditioning seems to act like a lover blowing on it, so my middle finger of that left hand, still wet from between my legs, paints its moisture around my nipple and areole. This time, each puff of breeze felt like a breath. My eyes have never left the mirror. Even Miss. Brain opted just to look (and probably record for later.)
It takes me right back to the start of my sexual exploration, and although I say it myself, I look amazingly sexy. Innocent, virginal, even, but undoubtedly sexy.
Inside, I feel an orgasm building, but this one feels raw, jagged. I get closer and closer. At one point, my knees clamp together as they used to years ago, but with a conscious effort of will, I force them wide apart.
I sniff my finger once more and it takes me over the edge. The orgasm is so ragged, so raw that it makes me almost double up. If not actually doubled, then certainly it makes me bend forward. My eyes are wide, my mouth a perfect ‘O’ and yet not a sound emerges….not a single profanity. I am cumming like I used to, in absolute silence, fearful of being heard, fearful of being discovered. The crotch of my panties bulges as I squirt into them. The orgasm feels like nails on a blackboard as it slowly tapers away, leaving me panting….breathless.
Oh well….nothing now remains but to clean up. I can’t wear these panties….ruined after only ten minutes or so. I peel them off, and, like all girls do when they take their panties off, examine the crotch. It is heavy with girl cum, but there’s a pinkish tinge here and there. My period has arrived.
In the bathroom, I wash ‘down there’ and reach for the tampons. As usual at this time of the month, my clit remains hyper-sensitive. Even as I pull an identical pair of panties on and adjust my bra strap, I realise it’s going to be a day of self-imposed orgasms.
Oh well….what's a girl to do?
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