Dating nasty crossdressers
None of them actually stopped me from masturbating of course, but I had to go to ridiculous lengths to get my private time.And I would feel so guilty about it afterwards that it would be days before I would get desperate enough to do it again.
Every year a new crop of old-money boys from upstate would come to town, all destined for bright futures elsewhere.
I explained about the virtues of seclusion and the general breathing space out here.
I told her the country could be beautiful and she'd come to love it if she gave it a chance.
Masturbation took me someplace else, and that made it an Unquestionable Good. If I weren't overcome by shock and horror I might have been tempted to give it a few humps. I peeled my face up out of the mud and looked at her. With her plain round face and long straight hair, she looked more like a Mary or a Barbara. It rushed quickly enough to obscure my submerged nudity. My dismay at that prospect overshadowed my current humiliation. She was unruffled, almost serene, and when I came out of my self-absorbed funk, I saw she was still studying me. We've got...hairdryers, towels, all that." She shrugged. She wasn't overweight, though - she just hadn't yet lost what my parents would call her puppy fat. Bright, jolly lettering arched over her bottom and spelled the magazine's title: Assgasm.
My parents worked long hours during the summer break, and fortunately, that summer there was only part-time work to be had for students. Our house was out past the town limits, on the edge of a state conversation area, and we had no neighbors. I landed face-down in the muck of the riverbank with a loud splat. As it was, I had absolutely no idea what to do next. She just stood there and regarded me with polite concern. I belatedly remembered my mother mentioning earlier in the week that a family had moved into the old Peddimore farm. I wiped away the clinging mud as quickly as possible. "Your family lives in the gray house just over there, right? I thought about just staying out until I was dry, no matter how long it took, but coming in late would just as surely trigger a parental water-boarding. This set her aside from most of the girls I went to high school with, who considered the mere existence of local boys a gross personal affront. Scratch that; they would have been running in her place, and gibbering all the details of my transgressions into a cell phone as they ran. Her short, sleeveless dress smoothed over the faintest bulge of girl-tummy and flared out, swirly tennis-skirt style, above her knees. "Randy likes that one," Yvonne said with a fond smile. There were men and women licking, fingering and fucking glistening asses on every page.While the house was a sexual no-fly zone, there was plenty of opportunity to fool around naked outdoors. It was pure luck I remembered to close my eyes at the last instant. As a definitive moment of one's worst nightmare realized, it was somewhat anticlimactic. My voice had a funny hoarse sound, like it was breaking again. It hadn't sunk in that we were no longer alone in our rural little corner of nowhere. Yvonne just sat there on a rock with a small Mona Lisa smile curling her Cupid's bow lips. Her legs, what I could see of them, were sleekly well-fleshed. I can't get the fuck out of here soon enough." The fervency in my own voice took me aback and I paused, blinked, and tried to get things back on track. " "Oh, you know, we'd get some magazines and stuff, sometimes a DVD, look at them together in one of our rooms. "He's an ass man." She sat casually, leaning back on her palms with her legs crossed at the knee. I had never seen hardcore, and all these good-looking people doing it -- doing it for real -- blew my mind.