As I go back into my room, my mind is still whirring. The room is neat and tidy. Nothing to do there. Dinner was prepared earlier, with just the finishing touches needed. That can wait until mom gets back. So nothing to do, then.
There was something about this actress that intrigued me. Then a little internet research might fill the time nicely until mom returns. I love sitting in front of the damn computer screen, for me it feels like a window to tranquility. I boot up the laptop, my mind still replaying the sexy smile of the actress. I type the name of the movie into the search engine box. As a seemingly random list of results appears on the screen, I sigh. Am I the only person in the world who can’t google?
Thinking back once again, I click on the link that seems, vaguely, to match what I might be looking for. As her twitter profile loads, my mind slips back briefly to her sexy smile again. I am so pleased with my thoughts that I am only half-reading the piece on the screen. It is only when I see several paragraphs of the actress that I realize there is something hot and fiery welling up, only this time it isn’t just anger.
I slam the laptop shut. Oh goodness.
I stand up, walk to the sink, and pour myself a glass of water. Why am I feeling this way? How could I? It isn’t right that I should be looking at her pictures and feeling this way. I look at my watch. Great, only thirty minutes until mom gets back. I walk back to the laptop, and as I open it up again my heart races.
Unavoidably the actress’s twitter timeline is still there. How on earth didn’t I realise I was attracted to her? Well, I realize now, my mind screamed filth from the very first picture. [Her eating chocolate, legs croosed with creamy thighs](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Dh9GT2bW4AACT0g.jpg:large). She might be eating dark chocolate but my mind registers white choclolate looking at those creamy thighs.
Despite her sweet-as-honey smile and girly giggle, you just know Yami Gautam isn’t apple pie at all. It is entirely realistic to imagine Yami Gautam doing porn. Forget about all those cutesy tees she always wears, Yami would probably love to be down on her knees and…
I stop. My mind is on fire. It is not just that I am being nasty about a celebrity. Or even that I am putting her into the starring role of a pornographic video. No, it’s how good it feels. Partly it feels good to be nasty, to get your own back in the safety of your own mind on people who you know in your heart of hearts aren’t what they make themselves out to be. But more than that, oh my, it feels good to think of Yami Gautam doing that. Kneeling on the floor in front of [a man called Mick](https://www.vixen.com/mick-blue), kneeling, the dirty horny bitch, taking a man in her mouth like that. She probably loves being used.
All the confusion has gone now. My mind is clearer than ever, racing with this one simple thought. I ease my dress up to my waist, and check my watch again. Twenty minutes. Plenty of time. I do this often. Almost always, in fact. More than anything, I found “pleasuring” myself to be that pleasurable.
It seems so damned sexy just to think of this one girl, this one bitch, pretty and sexy kneeling in front of a man. Heck, she doesn’t even have to take off her clothes. No, scratch that. I shift the mental image so that Yami lifts up that damned cutesy tee to reveal those full rounded breasts. That’s it, Yami kneeling in front of a man with her tee rucked up above her breasts, her nipples pointing hard as she takes Mick into her mouth.
I slips a hand inside my panties. I am wet, very wet. No words, however subtle, could create anything as exciting as the mental image in my brain. As the man pushes himself in and out of Yami’s mouth, basically fucking it, Yami slides a hand down the front of her own shorts, wet and excited to let Mick treat her mouth as a hole for his selfish satisfaction.
My fingers seem to know exactly what is needed as they tease around my lips and engorged clitoris. It is as if I am exploring my body for the first time, only this time all the doubts and the worries have been erased by the absolute eroticism of my thoughts.
As my body slowly builds and I scream into an unthinkably overwhelming orgasm, in my mind I imagine Mick ejaculating his semen into Yami’s mouth.
I hear key scraping at the front door, and the sound of mom. I slams the laptop shut, pull down my skirt, and stand, trying desperately to compose myself. I looks at my watch. She is early.
As she comes through the door, I struggle to raise a smile. “Hey mom, What brings you home early?”
+++
After dinner, I lie, completely naked, on the bed, my legs spread wide apart. My nipples are stiff and hard, poking at the ceiling. The fingers on my right hand are delicately teasing my clitoris, while three of the fingers on the left push brutally in and out of my cunt.
In my mind, Mick is gone. It is just me and Yami. We are in Yami’s bedroom, talking tennis, and undressing. I am showing my body to Yami, and Yami is showing her body to me. It seems so natural for me to take off my bra, and feel Yami’s eyes eat up the sight of my bare breasts. To watch Yami pull down her panties, exposing her neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair, and for Yami not to mind that I am staring at her naked crotch, and Yami is actually opening her legs slightly so that I can see the engorged lips of her pussy. For me to drop my panties and invite Yami’s attention, desire more than anything for Yami to look at my pussy, for Yami Gautam to get wet because I am showing my pussy to her.
As I feel my orgasm build, I imagine the scent of Yami’s skin, the curve of her breasts, and then my mind fills with softly kissing Yami’s breasts, sucking her nipples, and licking her wet sweet pussy. And I cum, a sweaty writhing slut, splayed on her bed dreaming of tasting another woman’s cunt.
And I lie there, recovering, acutely aware this will not be the first time.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8zhhv9/f_masturbating_to_filthy_thoughts_about_a_girl
Yum!