Realised Desires

Discovering my photos online and then discovering it turns me on.

I was once asked online by a guy if girls get turned on when they receive unsolicited dick pics, or when they know a guy is jerking off over their photos. I told him I could only speak from my own personal experience…

I was an 18yr old high school senior at the time, sprawled out on my bed after frying my brain with revision. My phone glowed in one hand, as I scrolled my social media, and I held a mint flavoured vape in the other, soothing my endless nicotine cravings.

Clad in just a pair of tight shorts and a baggy t-shirt, my long, brown hair in a ponytail, my blue eyes glued to the screen, I suddenly received a flurry of notifications. I naturally opened them, expecting a like on my latest selfie, or another new stranger adding me.

It was neither. It was just some random guy sending me several photos of his cock. He wasn’t the first, and I was sure he wouldn’t be the last. I examined the images closely. He had a very nice, well-endowed cock to be fair to him. I was impressed for once.

Dark veins snaked along a smooth, thick shaft, leading to an engorged head that was glistening with juicy pre-cum. I’d suck it, I thought, drawing on my vape. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded him spreading my legs to see if my pussy could take it.

He then sent me a message. “My cock really likes you, Tegan! 😘 You’re so hot. I’d love to see your big tits. Wanna trade nudes?”

Safe to say, I ignored and blocked him. But then another guy popped into my DM’s, telling me how great my tits were, and how he’d like to see more photos of me. At least he didn’t send any dick pics. I was about to block him too, when he sent me a link to a site, telling me I was very popular on there.

Concerned, I clicked on the link, ignoring the fact that it might be a scam. It wasn’t. The link took me to a porn site, a gallery of my own photos taken from my social media. My eyes widened in disbelief. I knew this kind of thing went on, but I didn’t expect it to happen to me. I was barely eighteen.

Under the title, “Another Chav Slut” I counted ten photos of myself. I recognised every one of them, of course. I was wearing a variety of different outfits. I then noticed several comments had been written. My heart began to pound as I read them all.

“Look at those big teen tits. I wanna fuck her and then cover her face in cum,” someone typed under a photo of me wearing a denim skirt and a halter top in the park.

“I’d take her in the woods and fuck her young brains out,” another wrote under the same photo.

“Fuck! Imagine being her teacher! Her tits are huge for her age!” I read under a photo of me in my school uniform.

“That uniform makes me hard. I want her riding my old cock while she wears it with her big tits out,” someone confessed.

I clicked on my recently taken bikini photos, a sexy black, two-piece set I’d worn to the beach. It showed off my five-six, curvaceous figure, the figure I unashamedly flaunted that day. The narcissistic poses exposed me. I could see it now, as I read the comments.

“What a slut. Her tits and ass are perfect. She needs a hard fucking and lots of cum.”

“She’s so fucking hot. Great tits, baby. Get them out, you naughty little teen slut.”

“I’d rip that bikini off her sexy body and give her a baby on the beach. I bet her teen pussy is so fucking tight. I’d fill all her holes.”

“She’s built to fuck. Those big milkers are ripe for sucking and fucking.”

The comments sent tingles down my spine. Their raw, lust-filled honesty was both shocking and arousing. The comments continued, their explicitness showing no signs of letting up. The few of me in my school uniform drew the most attention.

“She’s begging for it in that uniform, vaping as if she’s sucking on a cock. Little tease.”

“I love how her uniform can’t hide her curves. Imagine being her dad, seeing her everyday.”

“I’d bend her over the desk in detention. I love slutty teens with big tits. She’s pretty too.”

“She’s rocking that school uniform. I’d teach her a lesson.”

After catching my breath, I giggled. These men were vile, I thought. But my body had responded to their degrading comments in ways I couldn’t ignore. Instead of feeling violated, I found myself strangely aroused. My ego was boosted by their crude words.

“Perfect body. I’d bang her for hours,” someone wrote under a photo of me in a short, low-cut red dress, taken at a party.

“Those tits are amazing. I’d suck them dry,” another man shared his thoughts.

“Those teen hooters are begging to be freed. I’d rip that dress from her body.”

“Her face is so pretty. I’d cum all over it.”

“Look how tight those shorts are.” I read under the photo of me in my gym wear. “You can see the shape of her tight cunt. I bet she’s popular at the gym. And those tits.”

I should have been angry, upset, and horrified, but I wasn’t. My heavy breasts were braless under my t-shirt. I could feel my tight nipples protruding through the fabric. Someone had taken my photos and shared them without my consent, turned me into a public fantasy, yet it aroused me.

As I read the comments again, I put the vape pen in my mouth and took a deep drag. I then leaned back against my pillows, exhaling a thick plume from my lips. I felt naughty and horny, needing to do something about it, about my hot flush.

I put my phone and vape down then closed my eyes, imagining the men behind the comments doing those things to me. Yes, I was busty for my age. I’d developed younger than most girls. I was proud of my boobs, and guys seemed to like looking at them too.

Still thinking about those men getting horny over my photos, I let my hands wander. They glided over the swell of my breasts, cupping them, feeling their weight in my palms. My fingers brushed against my tight nipples, protruding through the fabric of my t-shirt.

I teased them gently, my breath quickening just a little. Those men saw me as a playground, my body as something they could use to satisfy their sexual needs. But my body was my playground, mine to do with as I pleased, and I was going to please it.

God, I was so horny. My body was burning, my nipples were rock hard and sensitive, and my tight pussy was dripping. I wasn’t a virgin, and I wished one of those men would enter my room and ravage me in my own bed. I wouldn’t scream for help, I’d let him take me, use me, fill my womb with his cum.

My hands moved lower, sliding over my flat, contracting tummy, and down to the waistband of my tight black shorts. The anticipation was building as I traced a finger around my bulging mound, the juices dampening the fabric, making it shiny.

The thought of all those men watching me now had me releasing soft sighs. I hooked my fingers beneath the elastic and moved my shorts down, exposing my smooth, clean-shaven mound. I then ran a finger along my closed lips, feeling how wet I was.

I was soaking, beginning to open up like a blossoming flower. My breathing became shallower as I moved my finger faster, my hips twitching on the bed in response, in need. The sensation of my own touch was driving me wild, making me yearn.

I wanted something to fill me, something hard and long, something thick that could mimic the feeling of a cock. I opened my eyes and reached over to my drawer, picking up my plastic hairbrush with its thick rubber handle. It was no stranger to my hole.

I removed my shorts and spread my legs, then positioned the handle of the brush to enter me. I was so ready to get fucked. I pressed it against my pussy lips, teasing myself with the tip as I closed my eyes again, thinking about those dirty old men’s words.

My fingers tightened around the brush as I slowly pushed the handle inside. It was a familiar feeling, one I enjoyed immensely, but one that always reminded me that I needed to buy a real sex toy. My mother had two, a vibrator and a big, thick rubber dildo.

The ribbed, rubber handle slid in easily, my vaginal walls gripping it tightly as I fought the urge to thrust. I wanted to savour it, to draw out the pleasure, so I moved slowly, inch by inch, until the handle was buried deep inside my aching pussy, clenching.

I moaned and groaned on my bed, my hips gently dancing in their own little world as I adjusted to the fullness. It wasn’t a cock, but it was enough, more than enough to satisfy me. I really wished those men could see me now, standing over me, stroking their cocks.

I lifted my t-shirt with my free hand and cupped my breasts in turn, kneading them as I began to fuck myself with the brush. I imagined myself in detention, not that I had ever been in detention, but I imagined I was with him, the one who made the comment.

His eyes dark with desire, his breath hot against my skin as he lifts my skirt, pulls down my panties, and thrusts into me from behind, pulling on my long, brown ponytail. The brush became his cock in my mind, as I moved with it, with him, fucking myself.

My moans grew louder, hungrier, echoing around my bedroom. Needing to climax so badly, I tweaked my nipples then reached down for my clit, my fingers rubbing it in circles as I moved the brush faster. In and out, in and out, I fucked myself with abandon.

My body was on fire, burning up with every nerve ending alive, screaming for that release. I was so close, I could feel the overwhelming tension with every thrust of my brush as I pounded my opening. Wet, slick sounds sang from between my quivering thighs. I was almost there.

My walls desperately gripped the handle as I imagined being in the park, another man taking me into the woods, then taking me under the canopy of the trees. I imagined his hands all over me, pulling on my halter top, freeing my breasts as she said he would.

I could hear his rough voice in me ear as he fucks me on the floor, telling me how good I feel, how tight my pussy is. The fantasies pushed me closer to the edge, before finally, I exploded in orgasm on my bed, my body shaking and tingling out of control.

“Oh yes,” I panted. “Fuck my pussy. Yes. Yes. Fuck me hard. Oh yes. That’s it. Oh fuck.”

Waves and waves of euphoria washed over me, each one more intense than the last. I rode them all, still fucking my pussy with the brush, milking every last drop of ecstasy from my body until I was completely spent.

When it was finally over, I swapped my brush for my vape, drawing deep drags, relaxing in the aftermath of my orgasm. I just lay there, my chest rising and falling, everything still exposed as I vaped and smiled. My photos weren’t being degraded, they were being admired, just differently.

So, do girls get turned on when random guys send them dick pics, or jerk off over her photos? How about when she finds her photos on a website, being crudely commented on? It depends on the girl, I guess.