Kristy

Kristy shifted her body under the covers as she quickly thumbed through the familiar pages of the girlie magazine she clutched in her hands, illuminated by the soft rays of her bedside lamp. She knew the contents of this magazine by heart for she’d had it hidden under her mattress for the past several months, stolen from her father’s nightstand stash. One day while alone in the house she had discovered her father’s stash of porn and hastily took one at random thinking one single issue out of a stack of 10 or 15 magazines wouldn’t be missed. Although Kristy was 18 and had recently graduated high school, she was still a virgin.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know about sex, because she did… probably had much more knowledge than her family or other friends (outside the one who had fed her with such information) would ever guess, and it wasn’t that she didn’t think about having sex, because she did. Constantly. She was just scared and had been taught that “good girls” didn’t do that kind of thing, they didn’t go all the way. There were no good girls in this magazine, thought Kristy.. no, these were bad girls. Very bad girls. The first time she looked at the pictures of the girls in this magazine, she was shocked! They looked as if they enjoyed displaying their bodies in such vulgar fashion. Many of them depicted girls with their legs splayed open, some even with the lips of their vagina spread with thumb and forefinger for the cameraman to capture.

The cameraman. That’s what Kristy focused on. It wasn’t the nude pictures of the young women’s beautiful bodies that she found fascinating, it was the fact that they’d obviously been in the same room with another person, perhaps two or three other people, directing her, telling her what to do, looking at her body, her breasts and vagina so openly on display that made Kristy hot. That’s what had captured her attention at first… but then she had found the letters.

God, the letters from readers who graphically detailed their own sexual experiences for all to read… that’s what made her wet. That was what caused her body to shift underneath her covers as she quietly flipped to the story section. She’d read these stories at least 50 times, but it didn’t matter, each time she was transplanted into the scenario. Her body responded as if she were actually a participant. It was amazing, wonderful, and addicting.

After the initial theft, Kristy became more bold and went to her father’s stash several times, always only taking one magazine to keep for a couple of weeks and then switching out. Always the pictures were soft porn (although she had yet to realize that), until she came upon a Hustler. When she took it, she didn’t realize that it was different from the others she had been reading… but later that night, when alone, she flipped the pages and was stunned at what she saw.

Graphic pictures of women tied up, of leather, of bondage, of helpless women who didn’t appear to be suffering from this activity… rather their expressions seemed to be ecstatic. The stories too were different. All about women forced to accept the fact that they received pleasure beyond consent. Kristy was mesmerized. She related to these girls. They didn’t want to cross the boundary of “goodness” yet couldn’t help themselves in their submissive state…

And so the obsession began.

Now, Kristy thumbed through the one magazine in search of the stories that caused her pussy to puff and swell… to seep the moisture that even she was surprised at even before her fingers began to stimulate herself. And she began to read. She read about young girls forced to submit to their headmasters at school to punishments… punishments that caused them to display themselves – to expose their privates as the headmaster had his way with them. She read stories about women who couldn’t control their passion when held by several men who would stimulate the girl’s pussy and make her groan and scream with anguish and need. She read about secret strangers who found their way into the homes of these good girls and tied them up and forced them to endure unimaginable pleasure without ever knowing the perpetrator. And fantasies in Kristy’s mind were born.

She read these stories and as she read them, she felt her belly clench and throb, her legs involuntarily parted and her feet drew up to her ass, her knees spread wide… she felt the moisture build between her thighs and soon could feel the wetness against the cotton of her panties and in little splotches against her inner thighs. When she could stand it no longer, her fingers slipped across her belly and down underneath the waistband of her panties and into the soft down of her pubic hair. Her fingers moved further until they dipped into the hot honey wetness of her center and she groaned… a soft, muffled groan of pleasure as her fingers slid upwards to find her clit.

She was one of the girls in the story, one of those incapable of stopping the reaction of her body. Incapable of stopping that male presence that stimulated her beyond reason. Kristy’s forehead grew moist and her lip began to tremble as she read on, her fingers acting out what the man in the story was forcing upon the young woman. She actually felt her hands and legs bound as the character’s was, she felt the man’s breath upon her neck and his tongue slicking across her nipples, she felt his probing fingers against her hot sex and then…

Kristy came.

Her orgasm tore through her and took her breath away. Her eyes slammed shut and her mouth became a grimace as she only felt… lived in feeling the tremendous orgasm that ripped through her body.

One day, Kristy thought as she folded the magazine and slipped in between her mattress, one day… that will happen to me.