Virtually all the wanks I've had (and that's quite a lot!) have been to pics or vids or just using my imagination or memory. Stories of other people's sexual adventures rarely do anything for me. Probably because most of them are so badly told.
There's one notable exception to this, however. A few years back I picked up a copy of one of my regular monthly jazz-mags. It had this regular feature called 'My Sex Life'. I'd read previous ones and they were crap. But in this particular issue it was so much better.
The girl's name was 'Laura' and she lived in Ipswich (which is only 15 miles from where I live). There were two stories accompanied by four smallish (approx. 6"x4") pictures of 'Laura' posing on some stairs. She had a great pair of United Dairies with prominent nipples, an extremely edible snatch with medium sized flaps topped by a cute little landing strip. There was one rear view - her boot was perfectly rounded and decently-sized, though sadly there was no view of her chocolate-starfish, although I'm sure that was divine too!
The first story involved her and her mate Lucy getting up to some lezzie action in a cinema. Then the bloke in the next seat gets involved. While Laura and Lucy are wanking eachother and Lucy is also wanking the bloke the cinema usher comes down the aisle and shines his torch on them. But it all ends happily with a butt-fuck and pussy grind in the cinema car-park - Laura, Lucy, the bloke and the usher.
The second story's even better. She meets up with a couple of ex-boyfriends in a pub and one of the exs has bought a mate of his along. After a few beers they go back to one of the ex's house and she ends up with a dick in every orifice.
The way she describes giving the blow job and the guy entering her arsehole, and how they all get into a synchronised pumping rhythm until all the guys cum in her is story-telling of the highest order.
I've lost count of the number of times I shot my load reading that story. Yes, I know there were pictures, but I never came until I read the story.
I always kept an eye out for Laura whenever I visited Ipswich. I'm sure I would have recognised her, even with her clothes on. Of course, I never saw her. She probably never lived in Ipswich. And her name probably isn't 'Laura'.
There's one notable exception to this, however. A few years back I picked up a copy of one of my regular monthly jazz-mags. It had this regular feature called 'My Sex Life'. I'd read previous ones and they were crap. But in this particular issue it was so much better.
The girl's name was 'Laura' and she lived in Ipswich (which is only 15 miles from where I live). There were two stories accompanied by four smallish (approx. 6"x4") pictures of 'Laura' posing on some stairs. She had a great pair of United Dairies with prominent nipples, an extremely edible snatch with medium sized flaps topped by a cute little landing strip. There was one rear view - her boot was perfectly rounded and decently-sized, though sadly there was no view of her chocolate-starfish, although I'm sure that was divine too!
The first story involved her and her mate Lucy getting up to some lezzie action in a cinema. Then the bloke in the next seat gets involved. While Laura and Lucy are wanking eachother and Lucy is also wanking the bloke the cinema usher comes down the aisle and shines his torch on them. But it all ends happily with a butt-fuck and pussy grind in the cinema car-park - Laura, Lucy, the bloke and the usher.
The second story's even better. She meets up with a couple of ex-boyfriends in a pub and one of the exs has bought a mate of his along. After a few beers they go back to one of the ex's house and she ends up with a dick in every orifice.
The way she describes giving the blow job and the guy entering her arsehole, and how they all get into a synchronised pumping rhythm until all the guys cum in her is story-telling of the highest order.
I've lost count of the number of times I shot my load reading that story. Yes, I know there were pictures, but I never came until I read the story.
I always kept an eye out for Laura whenever I visited Ipswich. I'm sure I would have recognised her, even with her clothes on. Of course, I never saw her. She probably never lived in Ipswich. And her name probably isn't 'Laura'.
