(Translation)
The first time I masturbated in a dark room, it took forty-five minutes back and forth. But I’ve refined the program a bit since then. I try to keep the process to five to ten minutes, making my orgasms a ritual; a timer for a fixed image, and I aim to be both productive and erotic.
Afterward, I usually take a short break, grab a Coke from the small darkroom refrigerator, and sit back and feel my genitals gradually cool down and return to their peaceful, dry original state.
However, I was in trouble! Such behavior has consequences – whenever I get a whiff of developer, I shake with excitement, even in photographic material with lots of people coming and going.
One Saturday night, as usual, I was in the darkroom developing photos and masturbating. This time, after finishing, my tights were wet and stuck to my thighs as usual, and I took my customary Coke, but the mini-fridge was empty.
I remembered that there was a vending machine at the end of the hallway on the other side of the basement, so I squinted and wiggled my way through the brightly lit hallway to get a drink.
When I returned, I closed the door to the dark room, but I couldn’t see anything; my eyes were used to the brightly lit hallway. I was about to go over and turn on the ceiling light when a voice emerged from in front of me and whispered, “No! Please don’t turn on the light.”
It was a man’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Why?” I asked, frozen in the door.
……………… silence.
“Because ……” he said, still softly, “we need to talk!”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help but ask back in a stern voice. I fumbled in the darkness, found a counter, and carefully lowered the coke.
“Please promise me! Listen to my words.”
“Okay!” My eyes began to readjust to the red lights of the darkroom. But all I could see was a blurry mass of black shapes, and I said to, “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?” Though I knew I had just left the door open when I went out; I asked anyway!
“Because we need to talk!” He repeated.
I felt something graze my left side, and I instinctively reached for it, but felt nothing. Then there were two hands on my shoulders.
He was directly behind me, and I was acutely aware of his body, his legs, his chest, very close to me; though still inches apart, I could feel the body heat radiating from him, while still intermingled with the damning odor – the smell of developer. I shuddered again!
He still had both hands lightly on my shoulders, “Don’t be afraid!”
I was really kind of scared – the smell of developer.
As he began to massage my shoulders and back, he realized that it had been a long time since another person’s hands had touched me, and touched parts of me that my own hands didn’t touch, and it seemed that I had forgotten that the human body harbors many sensitive areas, but now they all came back to me!
It was as if he was talking in my ear, but I listened as if I hadn’t heard him, because his hands massaging my shoulders; and his fingers caressing my back mesmerized and enchanted me.
He slid his fingers from the back of my neck, down my spine to the end, then slowly back up to the back of my neck and down again, each time with a force so deep it made me a little sore, a little ticklish, a little hot.
“Give me your right hand!” He suddenly orders. I give him my right hand.
He leaned in and pressed his body against mine while taking my hand and bringing it to his nose to sniff, “I know how you pass the time in this basement!”
I was both dismayed and indignant, but he brought my hand to his lips at that moment, kissing it and licking my fingers. He took both of my fingers into his warm mouth, closed his lips around it, and then slowly withdrew it while sucking gently, tasting the sweetness of the wet liquid I had left on my fingers. He said, “You haven’t washed your hands!”
I was embarrassed that he had learned of my secret pastime in the darkroom, but in the dullness of my senses, I couldn’t resist him sucking my fingers and stroking my back.
I felt the still lubricated honey baby begin to throb again once more. I leaned forward slightly and rubbed my hips against his lower back. I could feel his erection growing with each movement I made, and my pussy baby getting more moist.
He spat out my fingers and stirred his arms around my waist, pressing his crotch deep into my ass. He moved his hands slowly, sliding them down my thighs, over the sides of my ass cheeks, and then forward around, over my belly, to my breasts.
I wasn’t wearing a bra! He opened the tiger’s mouth of his hand and held the lower edge of my breast at the root, holding it upward and squeezing it inward. I was proud to feel that my breasts were soft and bouncy!
His fingers rubbed my nipples through my t-shirt until I let out a deep moan and my knees trembled. He wrenched and twisted my shoulders, turning my body to face him.
I squinted, his hair short and loose and dark, his eyes reflecting the red lights of the dark room-that was all I could see in the dimly lit room.
He gave me a small smile full of confidence before pulling me into his arms and kissing me.
The hair on my forehead was tangled together, my smooth lips were mingling, my tongue was exploring; my soft cheeks rubbed his rough cheeks that were bubbling with scruff, making my lips hot and my cheeks tingle.
I take a half step back and lift up his t-shirt, revealing his broad, strong chest. I kissed the curls around his nipples, then licked his nipples and gently pressed my knees against his lower back.
He groaned and took my hips in both hands, gripping my miniskirt. With one skillful movement, he tugged and the skirt faded.
Then he removed my T-shirt with equal skill; I fumbled with the button on his zipper. His thick rod popped out of his pants, fully erect. I couldn’t help but take a deep breath!
The crotch of my tight cotton pants was wet and still caught in the lips of my flesh. He pushed his rod between my legs and rubbed my moist spot, arousing me!
He gently flattened me on the cold concrete floor while removing his t-shirt and straddling me. His body, dripping with sweat, grinds against my lower abdomen; his teeth eagerly suck and bite my nipples. I groped haphazardly with both hands and found his rod; I stroked it gently as it twitched and jerked.
I pinned him to the floor with the stand, and that’s when I saw that he had a new condom in his hand; I didn’t even see him take it out of there.
I gently broke his hand, took the condom and put it in my mouth, I remembered I had done this before and I could help get it on correctly with just my lips. With the condom in place, the tip of the rod was just against the throat.
Then I started to clamp my lips around it and I slowly let it out of my mouth as he moaned. I suddenly shoved the last few inches inside my mouth and sucked hard and he yelped.
I rotated my body and straddled his face, still sucking on him. I heard a “hiss!” He yanked off the tight crotch of my moist pants, then reached down to fondle the soft, lubricated flesh of his lips. My body convulsed, writhing against his fingers, and I cried out softly as they slipped inside me.
He pushed me away from him, leaving me prostrate on the floor, and slid his rod between my legs, grinding it back and forth against my clit. The pleasure made my whole body tremble.
I began to moan as he skillfully and slowly entered me. He pushed out his rod and I slowly wiggled my hips, taking it in inch by inch.
He began to pump slowly, tightening his grip on my waist, deliberately retracting, pausing, then entering deeply again. With each entry, my ample breasts bobbed, the muscles in my pussy, tightening around his rod. My nipples rubbed against the air, stiffening more with each swing.
When I moved in rhythm with him, anxious to add to the pleasure, he would stop moving altogether, or go slow, so slow that I could feel every muscle, every curve in his rod. And once he’d gone deeper, he’d pull out slowly, making me restless.
He gradually accelerates, withdraws, then stops abruptly. Leaning down to kiss me on the mouth, his tongue exploring wildly. I bucked my hips, letting him know I fervently wanted him to enter again.
When he said, “I want to look at your face!” My heart seemed to slow down a beat. Unable to resist any longer, I took hold of his hand and twisted my body to incorporate him deeply. His movements accelerated; my pleasure elevated. I felt his rod quiver wildly inside me; I felt the walls of my vagina seem to peel away.
We both shuddered and climaxed at the same time. The pleasure and relief made us gasp and hiss.
We snuggled on the concrete floor of the darkroom, sweat and body odor mingling with the scent of fixative; listening to our heavy breathing in the dark red light. My head rested against his heaving chest, his chest hair matted from sweat and kisses; he stroked and molded my hair.
Suddenly, I wanted a Coke. I smiled when I realized that the can I had bought was sitting on some counter somewhere.