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So my confession is that I love watching men wank. Not in porn, that’s boring. I mean in real life. It has to be genuine.
You see, it’s not just about the physical act of a man pulling on his hard cock—although that’s brilliant, don’t get me wrong. It’s the urgent, frantic need that really does it for me. It’s the look on the guy’s face as he gets close, the desperation, and then the sounds of relief he makes as he comes. I love to see it spurting out of his cock too, jets of silky white come, as he shudders and gasps. It’s so masculine. And when you see someone come, you’re seeing them at their most basic, their most animal. It’s exquisite.
I knew this one guy who indulged my kink wonderfully. We weren’t going out, we were friends and occasional fuck buddies, but he used to wank for me often. He had a great body, and a pleasingly large prick, and he enjoyed doing it for me. He was such a show off, but he understood that I wanted it to be real too. He didn’t do it in a showy way, or try to do anything fancy, he just wanked for me as I sat and watched. He used to come rather explosively too, and he made the most wonderful noises, but that was the way he always came.
I used to touch myself when he wanked for me. It was hot as fuck, how could I not? I was more self-conscious than him, though, so I used to keep my clothes on when I did it. I’d make him strip naked so I could see his body, but I’d only open my jeans so I could slide my hand into my knickers and rub my clit.
One time was different, though. That’s the time I’m going to confess about now. Because it was gloriously filthy, and it changed everything.
We’d been out together all afternoon. We met in central London to go to an art gallery to see a new exhibition I was interested in, and afterwards we went to my favourite pub.
We drank in a dark corner, and we kissed and groped each other. I hadn’t been planning on anything special. We often spent a Saturday afternoon together, then we’d go back to mine for sex, but that day I was feeling hornier than usual. I couldn’t stop myself from picturing him masturbating for me. I couldn’t get it out of my head, and I wanted it more than ever. I suggested we cut our drinking short and get a taxi back to mine.
He said no, though. He said he wanted to stay out a bit longer and to drink some more. I knew he was teasing me. I think he realised how turned on I was, and he enjoyed making me wait for it. He kissed me more too, and he put his hand up my skirt to really taunt me, and he got me as horny as a sailor newly back in port. He teased me for another hour before he finally relented and we jumped into a taxi together.
I was climbing the walls in desperation by the time we got back to my flat. I was tipsy, and hot and wet. I kissed him hard, and he picked me up and carried me to my bed.
My cunt was aching to be touched, but I told him I wanted to watch him wank. He stripped for me. He spat on his hand and began to play with his wonderful, big cock, and I slid my fingers into my knickers.
I was so turned on, and maybe more than tipsy, I felt uncharacteristically bold, and so I pulled my top and my bra off, and I showed him my tits as he played with himself. He grinned at me. He moved over and stood as close as he could, and he stared down at my breasts.
I loved the way he looked at my body as he wanked. It made me feel dirty and desired and brave, and so I went crazy, and I took the rest of my clothes off for him. I spread my legs and I let him see me touch myself.
Fuck, he looked so good standing over me, naked and hard, and he was staring at my body, and it really felt like he was touching himself for me that time, and I felt so sexy.
I reached the brink of orgasm quickly, and I kept touching myself, but I held back so that I could come as he did. It wasn’t easy though, especially as he got closer to finishing and his body started juddering, and he made those glorious gasping and groaning sounds, but I managed to keep myself on the edge.
And then he did something different. Usually he came over one of my pillows, or on my clothes. I loved to see it come out of him and the mess it made, but this time he stepped up onto my bed. He stood right over me, and he looked down and grinned wider, and I realised what was happening just as he reached his climax.
If he’d have asked to do it, I would probably have told him no, so it was good he didn’t ask permission. That he just got up and stood over me.
I looked up into his face and our eyes met, then he tensed, and he yelled as he came. The first spurt of his come erupted out of him and it fell across my stomach and one of my breasts. He gasped and tensed again and more of it sprayed over me. I’d never had anyone come on me before. I hadn’t liked the idea of it, but in that moment it was so head-spinningly hot, so wicked and dirty, and I let go and came too.
I screamed, it was so intense, and I kept strumming my clit as he spurted over me. His warm come spattered all over my stomach and breasts, and I leaned forwards to get it on my face too. It fell onto my cheeks and my nose, even onto my forehead, and it was so deliciously depraved. I’m not normally that bad. I’m shy in bed, I’m a good girl, but that time I came way harder and for longer than I usually do. He absolutely covered me, and surprisingly, it was heaven.
I’ve called this a confession, but really it was an awakening. It made me realise I could be naughtier, and it made me more confident.
Since that time, I began to ask for it more openly. For men to wank themselves as I watched, and for them to come over me too. I’ve gotten so into it, and so self-assured, I’ve even tried it with more than one man at a time. But that’s a story for another day, though.
Want to read more stories like this?
If you've enjoyed this story, then we've recently published our second collection of erotic confessions on Amazon (it contains this one). The confessions include sex with strangers, sex with lovers, lesbian sex, oral sex, anal sex, voyeurism, and domination and spanking. Some are wild, some are even wilder. Explore more on the link below: