Wanting to fuck what you shouldn’t (as a girl that young)…

I’ve always enjoyed masturbating. It started when I was very Young and now I’m in my early twenties. Back when I was still at secondary school I’d sit there in my classes and my mind would wander to filth. If we had a male teacher for that lesson he would become the subject of my fantasies. I would look at the wrinkles around his eyes and his aging face and imagine how it would look between my legs, with my thighs clamped tight around him. The older the man the better – I would picture myself running my fingers through their greying hair and pushing their head down ensuring his mouth couldn’t leave my young juicy pussy until I was satisfied. At this point I was still a virgin, and no man had touched me. Frequently I would fantasise about being the only student in an after-school detention. I’d imagine my teacher with his strength and age coming over to me and picking me up; I’d imagine him forcing me onto his large oak desk. Imagining myself resisting, fighting him off a little until I realise finally I am too weak and cannot escape. I would want him to force me to spread my legs for him while he felt and probed my body all over – paying special attention to the bare skin of my thighs that showed above my long white socks. I’d imagine my pussy getting more excited as he tied me to the table with lengths of old skipping rope leaving me spread eagled, with every private part of me on show. I would sit there in my classes with my nipples hard and erect because I was thinking such dirty thoughts, and when I was lucky enough to be given a hall pass to go to the toilet during lessons, I would cherish the opportunity to sit alone in the girls toilet with the loo seat down – myself perched on top – my knickers around my ankles as I rubbed at my excited pussy. Sliding a solitary finger up my tight and juicy hole looking for relief but still wishing it was someone else touching me, thinking of how good it would feel if it was the janitors clean but rough hands probing my pussy instead of my own or the hands of one of the girls in my class.

From the age of 12 I would have the family house to myself after school until around 6pm. I often walked home aware that my panties were a little wet and sticky, and my mind was full of dark yet exciting thoughts. I’d let myself explore my thoughts, looking for the images which sent a shock of adrenaline through my body and made my nipples stiffen, keeping pussy still swollen and turned on. As I walked the 20 minutes home I would look at the adult men I passed and my thoughts would get carried away: ‘Oh! If only that builder would put down his spade and head over to me – pin me up against the tree and force his erection inside me.’ I’d look at the old granddads and want to sit on their lap at the bus stop in my short school skirt; I’d want to wriggle my bum on their lap and try to make them hard underneath me. I was old enough to be aware I shouldn’t do these things as society frowned upon them, but it was such a thrill.