I've done something appalling, something that I have tried to stop doing but can't. No matter how severely I berate myself with a vow never to repeat my actions in moments of remorse, I can't resist such an overwhelming power. It's not lust; lust is such a puny word when I compare it to the wash of sheer, irresistible craving that I feel.
Ha! Lust, desire, wanting? Pathetic words, meaningless words that convey absolutely nothing of the intensity and depth of whatever this emotion is that I'm gripped by.
I'm a pathetic man, a weak man. Like I said, I've done something utterly deplorable and when I'm found out... as I'm sure to be; it beggars my imagination to know how things will turn out.
I suppose you want to know... you want to know what I've done that has led me to ride this emotional roller coaster. Because that's exactly what it is, a huge sway of emotion from one end of the spectrum to the other. One minute I'm in the depths of despair, almost broken by the guilt and I swear not to repeat my mistake, and the next I'm sailing on a wave of euphoria. I make all kinds of deals with God if He'd only lead me from this temptation... but of course, when that temptation is staring me full on in the face... when Adriana is wriggling her lithe, sensuous body inches away from me as she taunts me with her slightly slanted, exotic, Eastern European eyes... How can I resist?
The problem isn't Adriana per se; it's the connection (no pun intended) between us that's the issue. I'm in my forties; I've been a widower for seven years. Adriana is nineteen; no problem there you probably think, but the thing is Adriana is my son's girlfriend.
Fucking your son's girlfriend isn't the best moral choice anyone can make. Fucking your son's girlfriend is bound to end in carnage. Fucking your son's girlfriend is probably one of the lowest things a man can do. I know this, I know all of this and more on a logical, clear thinking level, but if you could see the look on the beautiful girl's face as I slide my cock into her; if you could hear her moan; if you could just see her, hear her...smell her.
Jesus!
OK, what got me into this predicament? Porn that's what, good old simple pornography.
I first discovered porn in the late seventies. I found my old man's stash of videos and sat mesmerised, my eyes - and cock - bulging as I stared at what became my old favourites. The antics of a (young) Ron Jeremy, Seka, Vanessa Del Rio and of course the legendary John Holmes, sent a thrill of hugely illicit pleasure through my body. The residue of that feeling, the taboo, forbidden nature of what I was watching and doing has stayed with me throughout the intervening years. When my wife passed away I went through a long period of celibacy, but as the shock of her loss ...dwindled, I found masturbating while watching some of my old favourites best alleviated the newly blossoming sexual urges I experienced.
I built up a minor collection of DVD's over a period of months and years. I had one or two girlfriends and visited the occasional professional lady, but I kept going back to the simplicity of my porn stash. It was one of my masturbatory soirees that led to my son's girlfriend Adriana, catching me mid-wank.
I was having a day off. My son had gone to work and I thought that I had the house to myself. I was all set. The video was playing and I had a whole day stretching ahead with no one to disturb my time. Perfect.
I was sat in my armchair watching one of the old Color Climax flicks from the seventies. My cock was huge in my fist and I was close to shooting my load. I was just in the process of using the fantastic technological innovation of jumping between selected frames – thank God for DVD, in the old days of video it was a huge problem over how to time the favourite bit of the film with your ejaculation (yeah, you know what I'm talking about guys) - just as I was about to come I had a weird feeling as though I was being watched. Now, if you've got your cock in your fist and you're watching porn, you're very sensitive to any subtle atmospheric changes in the environment. I had that strange feeling and I looked up and to my left, towards the living room door, and with a huge jolt of disbelief I saw Adriana watching me.
There was nothing I could do. I'd been caught bang to rights. The hideous soundtrack played on as I stared at Adriana as she stared back at me. My cock was huge in my fist, but my orgasm had been rudely interrupted.
Half a dozen scenarios played through my mind all at once.
It wasn't real, I was imagining this ...I hadn't just been caught pulling my cock by my son's girlfriend.
She wouldn't say a word. We could have a cup of tea and talk. I'd explain, I needed sex, everyone masturbated, and I missed my wife...
Adriana would soon turn and run from the room in horror. She'd tell my son what she'd seen...
...Oh God, the humiliation... What could I do?
I probably ran through every possibility of what could happen with the sole exception of what actually did.
Adriana is a stunning girl. She is, to my mind at least, easily identifiable as typically Eastern European to look at. There's just an indefinable 'something' about women from the former Soviet Satellite states. I don't know what it is, but I can just tell by looking.
Adriana is a tall, slim girl with an exquisite figure. She's very, very pretty and has long legs topped by a beautifully sculpted arse. She wore the current style of clothes so typical of today's Modern Miss. Hipster jeans that complimented her beautifully and showed off her taut, flat tummy. Her lower back was decorated with the ubiquitous, tribal tattoo that all the girls are showing off to the maximum these days. She never openly flaunted her body, but Adriana seemed to know how to display it to the fullest advantage, and her small, round breasts always appeared tight and firm, neatly covered by some type of clinging tshirt.
Adriana looked at me through those exotic, Asiatic eyes of hers for a time as she surveyed me from the doorway. She smiled the most sly, mischievous, blatantly wicked smile I've ever seen decorate a woman's face and I just sat there with my cock slowly wilting in my hand, too stunned to move. Adriana moved towards me in that sinuous way that some women have of walking. I've always loved the way the girls walk, it's a kind of hypnotic swaying of the hips that holds my attention and perfectly focuses my mind.
I couldn't make sense of what was happening. Why was she smiling like that? Why was she coming into the room rather than running away in hysterics?