Downloads

I attempted to raise my awareness of classical music on Sunday by listening to Radio 3 while I did the ironing, but I quickly got bored and decided to download some movies onto my Mac. The movies either starred Justine Joli or Miss Catfish, the glamour model that I’d been asked to work for. By the time I finished all my domestic duties, my flat was spotless and I was exhausted. Putting that together with the wretched experience of my date the previous weekend I couldn’t even contemplate going out. I did think about giving the Irishman a call, but looking at my calendar I decided that I should keep him in reserve for later in the week when I knew that his services would definitely be required.

So after my evening meal I closed the curtains, pulled off my knickers and sat in front of the computer to view my downloads. I love watching porn. It’s been a bit of guilty pleasure for years. Listening to porn is one of my pet peeves. I can’t stand the music they play in the background, the girls always moan far too much (and they do it even when they don’t really have anything to moan about) and the guys always sound like retarded idiots – yeah, ooh yeah, ooh yeah. But when I’m watching porn alone I can press mute and finger my pussy with abandon.

I watched the movie with the English girl first. As she stripped for the camera I could see the scars under her breasts that were left by her boob-job. They weren’t significant, but they were visible. I felt my own bosoms as I looked at her on the screen, relieved that I would never have to consider such a thing, but also marvelling at what she’d been given by the surgeon. She had brilliant tits. I could barely tear my eyes away from her bust, but the camera panned down as she played with the waistband of her white lace panties and she teased the viewers as she pulled them to each side exposing flashes of her smooth mound. 

The camera focussed on her hand inside her knickers and I could see her fingering herself through the material. I joined her, pushed my fingers into my cunt and ran the tip of my thumb over my clit. I thought about having spoken to her in the lift at work and the things she’s said to me. I could have her. I could fuck her. And watching her masturbate for the camera made me cum.

The orgasm was so intense I had to stop the movie.

I made myself a cup of tea to calm down. I tried to convince myself that I had misread the conversation and the implications of what she’d said to me in Paul’s office and in the lift. But I failed. And I had her phone number at work. However, there was nothing I could do about anything on Sunday evening.

So I tormented myself by watching the other film, with the American who looked uncannily like the student Lora was fucking. It was a rather flimsy lesbian scenario, but my interest wasn’t held by the action on screen so much as my own interpretation of what happens in Brighton during my absence. Jesus Christ it made me jealous! It didn’t stop me fucking myself with my faithful surrogate dick though. I let the toy hum in my cunt, and pictured my friend doing the same things to Charlie that I was watching on my computer.

Then my phone started to ring. I would have let it go to voicemail, but I spotted that Lora was making the call. I thought about pulling the vibrator from my pussy and switching it off, but I knew that she would appreciate knowing exactly what I was doing. She was the one who’d sent me all the pictures of the American after all.

“Hi Jayne!”

“Hi, how are you?”

“Have you got a moment? Can we talk? What’s that noise in the background?”

“Yes of course. I’m just watching a movie. It’s porn, if you want to know”.

“So can I hear your vibrator? Is it your vibrator I can hear?”

Embarrassment finally got the better of me. I had to turn it off. But there was no point in denying anything. I admitted that I’d been watching the porn-star performing and let my friend know what I’d been thinking. There was an agonising pause then Lora said, “I wanted you to know that Charlie took me to an all-girl party last night”.

She told me all about it at the time. And if that wasn’t enough to soak my pussy she has spent most of the working hours today telling me additional details to make my knickers sopping wet.

This is not the place for me to report what my friends get up to when I’m not there. However I am happy to say that Lora has now had sex with considerably more girls than me, that I am unimaginably jealous, and would probably agree to anything to get an invite to the next party.