Most of my adolescent sexual fantasies were about tying up and tickling girls dressed in silk clothing, but occasionally I explored different scenarios. One of my favorites was a role reversal situation, in which a girl, or a group of girls, dressed me in one of their silk dresses and tickled me. Here I present something slightly different, a fantasy which I think developed at around the age of twelve. It is the earliest fantasy I can recall in which my cock is deliberately rubbed with silk clothing, a form of stimulation I had already come to enjoy while masturbating.
The setting is the house across the street from my parent's, where lived a lovely girl whom I fell very much in love with. She was pretty, sweet, kind, gentle, and very feminine, but most importantly she was a Campfire Girl.
Night after night I masturbated to visions of her strung up by her wrists in an abandoned mine or shack, laughing hysterically as my fingers slid lightly over her silky blue skirt. To see it you would think I was torturing her, but the truth I imagined was that she loved it.
This fantasy had very little set-up. I created elaborate set-ups to support fantasies based on situations that never occurred, but in this case the girl -- I call her Jenny here, not her real name -- and I played together enough so that imagining us alone in her garage was quite ordinary.
I saw her come home from a meeting, dressed in her Campfire Girl uniform, as seductive looking to me as a woman in a lacy black negligee is to most men. I ran over to greet her, to spend a little time with her, to bask once more in the radiance of her femininity and to be as close as possible to her blue silk skirt.
She greeted me warmly. No hugs and kisses, just smiles and nervously flashing eyes. We were only twelve, after all! We goofed around in the yard, doing the things we usually did, and in the process I kept touching her skirt. In real life I had only managed it once or twice, moments enshrined in my memory like prehistoric insects trapped in amber. Here, in my fantasy, I did it so much that she noticed.
"What is it about my skirt that you find so interesting?" Jenny said demurely.
"Huh?" I replied.
"I've noticed before how you seem to go out of your way to touch me when I am wearing my uniform, but never when I am wearing anything else. It's the way it feels, isn't it. You know, I never thought I'd tell anyone this, especially a boy, but I really love the way this skirt feels. Sometimes it feels so good I can hardly stand it!"
My heart was pounding, I felt dizzy, and most of all I wanted to run away. I would have if it hadn't been for the fact that she was talking about my favorite subject in the world. It was like not switching off the Late Show because you want to see how the movie ends, only stronger.
"Really?" I said, almost as surprised as I acted. "It feels that special? I kind of thought it might, but was never sure."
"Oh yes, very special," she murmured, her big brown eyes boring into me. "Follow me. There's something I want you to try"
Jenny led me to the garage. It was big enough for two cars, but neither were there.
"Where's your folks?" I asked.
"Oh, my dad is away, working out of town, and won't be back until Tuesday. My mom just dropped me off on her way to the hair dresser. She'll be back around 5:30."
I looked at the clock hanging over the workbench. It was just after four. Over an hour until her mom came home. I realized that this was a perfect time to tell Jenny how much I wanted to try tickling her in her uniform, and right there in the garage was the perfect place. I saw several hanks of rope hanging neatly on the wall, and it would be a piece of cake to toss a rope over a rafter to hold her arms up. The only problem was the noise, but as long as we agreed that she had to keep quiet it ought to be fun.
"Bring me one of those hanks of rope," she said.
"What?" I said, too amazed by her words to guess what she had in mind.
"I want to try something. I think you'll like it a lot, but first you must be my prisoner. I promise I won't hurt you or anything."
In a daze I went and got a hank of rope and handed it to her. With surprising skill she undid it and arranged it into a neat set of coils.
"Now, prisoner, take off your clothes," Jenny said.
I still wasn't sure what she was up to, but the combination of talking about her skirt, the rope, and my being naked sounded like she was going to make me wear her skirt. I wanted to do that almost as much as I wanted to tie her up and tickle her, so she did not have to say another word to get me to agree.
There were two wooden poles in the middle of the garage, in the space between where the cars fit. She backed me up against one and expertly tied me to it, winding the rope around and around me and the pole, leaving me incapable of any movement whatsoever.
Her father had an old radio sitting on his workbench. She switched it on, and after it warmed up enough to play she spun the tuning knob until she had it on a roll 'n roll station. At that time the twist was still a big craze, and most of the tunes this station played had a twist beat. Once she had it tuned she cranked up the volume.
For awhile she just stood there, almost as if in a trance, while her body swayed to the music. I could not take my eyes off of her. She was so pretty, and her movements were both feminine and sultry. Suddenly she looked right at me, lifted her skirt until her white panty was visible, reached up under a little more and in one quick motion pulled down her slip and panty as her skirt dropped back into place.
"Ah, that feels so good!" she sighed.
She reached down to pick up her underwear, her face beaming.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed as she straightened up and tossed her underwear onto the workbench.
She began to dance to the music again, only this time in a more animated style that reminded me of Ann Margaret. Very sexy, but where Marilyn Monroe might have been expressing "Come here, big guy," Jenny's dance suggested something a lot more like "Look out, fella, here I come." And come she did, slowly towards me. My sweet, lovely, innocent girl had been transformed into a red hot chick.
She stopped right in front of me, and while still swaying to the music she reached out both her arms and placed her hands on my shoulders.
"I love to wear this skirt without anything under it. It feels very good. The trouble is, it also feels extremely ticklish. So ticklish that I can never wear it this way very long."
My cock had not exactly ignored what had been taking place, but when she came right up to me and said those words it sprang up like a rifle aimed at the bull's-eye.
"What I'm curious to know is, how good does it feel to a guy, and how long can he stand it?" she said, taking a small step forward and thrusting her hips forward.
A blast of the most wonderful pleasure swept over me. It was so intense I could hardly think straight, but I knew what was happening. She was rubbing the front of her silk skirt against my cock.
When she saw my face light up she smiled. "It feels good, doesn't it?" she taunted. "You like it? Can you stand it longer than a few minutes?"
Most of the time she did a mild version of the twist, but every so often she would switch to a hip grinding motion. They felt different, but both felt heavenly.
Sometimes I imagined that what Jenny did would feel excruciatingly ticklish, while at other times I would think only of the sexual pleasure. I always pictured myself as overwhelmed by the sensations exactly the way I liked to imagine women I tickled, struggling against the ropes that held me immobile and fighting back the urge to scream. To scream would mean she would have to stop, and the last thing I wanted was for my suffering to end.
In early versions of this fantasy she just rubbed my cock against her skirt to drive me crazy, going at it until just before her mom came home. Later I embellished the story and blended in new information about sex I picked up in conversations with other guys. I might imagine that my cock brushing against her skirt tickled her a lot, forcing her to choose between having her ticklish torment end and driving me insane. When I figured out that girls got as much pleasure from having their cunt rubbed as boys did from their penis I assumed that it was the opening of a girl's slit that was as sensitive as the tip of my cock. I began to picture Jenny masturbating this way, thrusting her pelvis out so that my cock pushed the silk in-between her legs enough so that it rubbed against her cunt, so that we both experienced intense sexual pleasure mixed with tickling torture. Again it turned out to be a contest to see who could stand it the longest.
I cannot recall at what age I began to ejaculate, but I remember that it had a big impact on this fantasy. I could not imagine that she would react kindly to me spewing cum all over the front of her silk skirt, yet the idea was terribly exciting. When I masturbated to this fantasy I would experience profound pleasure imagining the globs of sticky stuff that shot out of my cock soaking the front of her skirt, and would picture in great detail how she would freak out when she saw what had happened.
Eventually I hit upon still another variation, in which I imagined that the silk rubbing against my cock would not be enough to make me reach orgasm. This became a trademark of other, similar fantasies, a kind of sexual torture. Even though I always had orgasms when I masturbated, I loved to picture myself all tied up while a girl rubbed my cock with silk, subjecting me to all the pleasure I felt while masturbating and more, but not letting me come.
Many years later I tried to act out this aspect of these fantasies by myself. My first success was achieved by stuffing a pillow inside a skirt, straddling it on all fours and using a rocking motion to drag the tip of my cock over the fabric. Later I discovered an even easier method, which is to sit in a chair with my hips forward and drag something silky up and down over my cock. At first I just held my cock in one hand and the skirt or dress in the other, but in the desire to make it as realistic as possible I developed a number devices that held my cock up while leaving both hands free. I still masturbate this way sometimes, and even though I have many other scenarios to accompany such sessions, such as being subjected to such treatment in a woman's clothing store, I still enjoy thinking about Jenny and her Campfire Girl uniform.
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