My Lockdown Confession

What a girl got up to with nothing else to do.

Hi.

My name is Ally, I'm 28, although being petite i look a lot younger, and... well... this is my lockdown confession.

Before the Covid pandemic I had my own place and my own life. I had a job, not exactly a career, but it was undemanding and paid the rent.I wasn't in a serious relationship, but i had a number of male friends who could scratch that itch when I wanted. All in all i was my own girl and doing very well thank you very much.

But then came Lockdown and suddenly I had no job to go to. I couldn't afford the rent on my reduced pay, and I certainly wasn't going to stay in that flat on my own for god knows how long, so I moved back home with my parents. It was comfortable, it was familiar and I didn't have to feed myself. Win win as they say.

Well maybe not the biggest win. I was soon fed up of the constant diet of daytime TV and so retreated to my room. So there I was, alone anyway, in my old bedroom with just my laptop for company.

So what does a girl do when she is alone and looking for something to do? You'd think the internet would have something to keep me interested, but I was still restless, I was bored, and well... I wanted some male company.

It was then that I discovered Only Fans, and not only did it promise to be fun, it also promised money. Maybe this was a big win after all.

So I set myself up with an account. I can pass for a lot younger than myself, so I did... strictly keeping it legal of course... and that certainly got the interest.

So there i was on my laptop webcam putting my fingers up my fanny for pervs to look at... and pay, and pay they did.

But it wasn't just the money that kept me going. There was something about the way they typed, the desperation in their messages, the way they begged for just one more glimpse, one more word from me. It made me feel powerful in a way i'd never felt before. Not just desired, but needed. Essential. Like oxygen.

I had to keep things quiet of course, but my whispering voice just seemed to make me seem even more sexy, so that worked for me too. In fact I suddenly found that I was earning more on Only Fans than I was on my salary.

And then it happened. I should have been more careful, but it was just unexpected. My dad came in with a cup of tea for me, and there i was with my top up, one hand on my tits and the other inside me while some stranger looked out at me through the screen. I don't know what he thought when i slammed the laptop lid down quickly, but my dad was certainly still getting a good view as i hurriedly tried to adjust myself. Too late to make a difference as he made a very embarrassed apology and left closing the door behind him.

Dinner was awkward, not a lot was said, and I stayed in my room all evening until my mum went to bed. Finally I emerged shyly to see my dad still in his chair watching TV. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as i crossed the room and sat on the sofa, the silence between us thick with something i didn't want to name, something that made my skin prickle in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

I managed to burble some kind of apology, some explanation for what he had witnessed, but he didn't really seem to be listening, which I was thankful for as I wasn't really making a lot of sense or doing myself any favours.

And then he started to talk. Now my dad isn't ancient, he's only in his late fifties and I don't really see that as old-old, but suddenly he seemed very old and sad in the story he told me.

He married early at 20. 1981, the year of the Royal Wedding. There must have been something in the air he said. But whatever it was wasn't sexual. My mum was a couple of years younger than he was and had somehow missed out on female emancipation and sexual freedom. Suddenly me being an only child born ten years after they got married made a lot of sense.

He unburdened himself as if he'd been storing it all up for years. He'd only ever experienced straight missionary sex on those rare nights when his luck was in and had never even received a blowjob. He said he was jealous of young people today with the freedoms that they had. I felt so sorry for him.

I didn't know what to say, I was embarrassed for him, embarrassed for myself, embarrassed for my mother, but then I started to think, I was sitting here with my legs curled up under me, still in my pyjamas, my nipples hard. My dad was still talking, but my mind was wandering, I couldn't help it, what if I could give him that blowjob? What if I could make things better?

The thought made me wet, I could feel myself getting wetter, I shifted uncomfortably, but I didn't want to move, I didn't want to break the spell. He was still talking, but I wasn't listening anymore, I was thinking about how his cock would taste, how it would feel in my mouth, how it would feel to give him pleasure after all these years.

So I peeled off my pyjama top, revealing my tiny tits, and climbed off the sofa to kneel in front of him. I just looked at him, letting him know it was okay, and letting him choose what to do.

Slowly he stood and unfastened his trousers lowering them and his underwear before sitting back down. I stared at his cock. It seemed so beautiful to me at that moment.

His hands gripped the armrests so tight his knuckles whitened, his breath shallow and rapid as I leaned forward and took him in my mouth. His taste filled me, salty, musky, alive, and I moaned softly around him feeling him grow harder still. I knew that this was his first time and I wanted to make it good for him.

His fingers tangled in my hair, tentative at first, then clutching, pulling me closer as I sucked and licked, swirling my tongue around the head the way I knew drove men wild. His hips jerked involuntarily and I let him thrust deeper, savoring the way his body shuddered under my touch.

I glanced up through my lashes and saw his face twisted in something between agony and ecstasy, his mouth slack, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. The TV flickered, casting blue shadows across his thighs, the sound hiding his ragged breathing and the wet slide of my lips around him.

Then he came with a strangled gasp, his back arching off the chair, his fingers yanking my hair so hard my scalp stung, but I didn’t care, I swallowed every drop, licking him clean until he whimpered from oversensitivity. He collapsed back, boneless, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed. I rested my cheek against his thigh, feeling the coarse hair tickle my skin, listening to his heartbeat slow.

And then I said I was sorry. I was still caressing his cock hoping to coax some more life out of it. He said I was wonderful.

I leaned back and stared at him. He looked ten years younger, his eyes shining with gratitude, his lips slightly parted, still catching his breath. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to run away, but instead I just sat there, my knees aching against the carpet, my mouth still tasting of him. The TV flickered, the light catching the sweat on his skin. I reached out and traced a finger down his chest , feeling the rough hair, the warmth of his skin. He shivered. My caresses must have been welcomed. He was hard again.

I removed my bottoms and panties and... Well... god... i needed this as much as him... I climbed onto him, placing his cock against me and lowering myself slowly onto it.

His fingers dug into my hips, his breath coming in shallow bursts as I gently rocked against him, feeling him fill me completely. The chair creaked beneath us, the sound mingling with our ragged breathing and the slick wetness between my thighs. His eyes never left mine, wide with disbelief, his lips moving wordlessly as if afraid to break the spell. I leaned forward, pressing my small tits against his chest, my nipples hardening against the coarse hair there, my lips brushing his ear. "It's okay," I whispered, "just feel it."

His hands trembled as they slid up my back, hesitating before gripping my shoulders, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel his heartbeat pounding through his skin, erratic and frantic, matching mine. The air smelled like sweat and salt and something earthy, primal, the scent of his arousal mingling with mine. I bit my lip, rolling my hips slowly, savoring the stretch, the way his cock twitched inside me when I clenched around him.

I ground down harder, the friction sending sparks up my spine. His fingers digging into my flesh, leaving little crescent moons I knew would bruise. The chair groaned beneath us, protesting the rhythm, the sound swallowed by his choked moans. His head tipped back, throat exposed, tendons gleaming under the TV’s glow. I licked a stripe up his neck, tasting salt, the faint metallic tang of his aftershave, the way his pulse jumped under my tongue.

I leant back, arching my spine, pressing his palms flat against my tits. His thumbs brushed my nipples, hesitant, reverent, like he was afraid I’d shatter. I laughed, low and throaty, grinding my hips in tight circles just to watch his eyelids flutter. His fingers tightened, kneading, pinching just enough to make me gasp. The air between us was thick, electric, every touch amplified by the silence.

I could feel him throbbing inside me, his rhythm faltering, his breath loud, almost grunting. His hands slid down to grip my waist, pulling me harder against him, deeper, until I was gasping, my nails digging into his shoulders. His moan was raw, unfiltered, his hips jerking up to meet mine. The tension coiled tighter, my thighs shaking, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He whispered my name, just once, like a prayer, and that was all it took.

I came first, my body clenching around him, my vision blurring at the edges. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful, radiating outward until my toes curled. He followed seconds later, his cock pulsing inside me, his fingers bruising my hips as he held me down, grinding up into me with a groan that sounded almost wounded. I collapsed against his chest, slick with sweat, my heart hammering against his ribs. His hands trembled as they stroked my back, hesitant, reverent, like he couldn’t believe I was real.

Slowly i dismounted and then rushed to get him tissues, wiping myself as i passed him a handful before quickly pulling on my pyjama bottoms and top. I couldn't stay, it was too much, so I kissed him on his forehead before running back to the sanctuary of my room.

The bed shook as I threw myself onto it face down, my heart still hammering, my body still tingling, my cunt still throbbing. I pressed my face into the pillow inhaling the scent of my shampoo mixed with something else, something musky that clung to my skin. My fingers crept between my legs before I could stop them, finding me still slick, still swollen. I cried into the pillow as I circled my clit, remembering the way his cock had felt inside me, the way his hands had gripped my hips, the way he moaned when I clenched around him. It was wrong, wasn't it?

But my body didn't care. I turned over and lay there panting, staring at the ceiling, my skin prickling with sweat. The house was silent except for the creak of the stairs, the soft click of the bathroom door. I imagined him standing at the sink, staring at his reflection, washing his hands over and over like Lady Macbeth.

It never happened again. We never spoke about it, but I'm glad that he finally experienced what he thought he was missing. As soon as I could i moved back out. Strangely my sex drive has actually increased, and it was pretty high to start with,so I kept my Only Fans and I'm on it regularly.

But you know that, don't you, because here you are after paying £50 to hear me tell you all this. My whispers and my moans.

I hope you think it was worth it x