Ağu 4, 2022 // By:analsex // No Comment
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My name is Wendy Wreckless. Of course, that is not my real name. My name is not important. In plan to write a series of erotic stories and it is a pen name I have chosen for myself. I am a 28-year-old, homemaker and I have been married for 6 years. I have a great marriage and a happy and fulfilling sex life. I would like to share with you the unique fetish that I have. Car crashes turn me on. Not just the acts of cars crashing into each other, but the whole spectrum of this subject ranging from physical, emotional, and psychosexual aspects of it.
People seem to have a morbid fascination with car wrecks. Anytime there is a wreck on the freeway or off the side of the road, people tend to stop and slow down. Some refer to this phenomenon as “gawkers block” and those who engage in this activity as “rubber neckers” or “lookie-loos”. Whatever you want to call them, there are always seems to be people, usually in front of you, that slow down at the sight of a car crash. And the worse the wreck, the worse the back up is.
They want to see who was involved, whether it be a man, woman, or child. They may try to personalize the tragedy by identifying with or placing themselves in the shoes of an involved person. What were they wearing? Where were they going? Perhaps some people want to see if it was someone they knew. And some are just curious to see if people were hurt or killed. Quite frankly, people want to see blood and gore. Perhaps a decapitation, dismemberment, or evisceration is on their minds, or in their wildest fantasies. Long after we pass the wreckage and carnage and we arrive at our destination, we can’t wait to tell others about the accident. People listen with interest and ask for all the gory details.
Then there are the roadside memorials. Flowers, cards, candles, and wooden crosses at the site of a fatal wreck, usually of some young person. People flock to these sites and reflect. They see the skid marks in the roadway. They see the damage to property. They see broken glass and debris from the car that had long been towed to the police wrecking yard. People re-enact the accident in their head and try to envision what happened to the victims involved. Did they suffer? Did it hurt? Did they go quick? What were they thinking prior to impact? Were they conscious at the point of impact? What went through their minds at the precise moment of impact?
Look at the celebrities who have achieved legendary status, especially after having their young lives being snuffed out in a fatal car crash. Take a look at James Dean, Jayne Mansfield, Princess Grace, and more recently, Princess Diana. Devout fans to this day flock to these crash sites as a sort of pilgrimage. They too think and reflect at the place where these celebrated people met their demise. They too read about the details, memorize them, and recreate them in their minds.
I believe there is a definite correlation between cars and human sexuality. As long as there have been cars in existence, people have had sex in them. Having sex in cars fascinates and tantalizes many people. Many young people lost their virginity in the back seat of a car. I lost my virginity at 16 in the back seat of a Mustang. I am an avid reader of erotic stories. Many stories involve sex in cars or sexual experiences while driving. The most common themes center around a male and a female driving along a road at night.
One or both parties begin with a little masturbation. Sometimes it develops into mutual masturbation or oral copulation. In about 90 percent of the stories where the characters are driving and engaging in some sort of sex act, they encounter accelerators being pressed to the floorboards or severe braking or swerving as they nearly collide with another car or a fixed object. The thrill of a near collision seems to enhances the sexual experience for the players. But nearly all characters pull over someplace and finish the act safely. I believe some of those who get turned on by masturbating while driving, secretly harbor the same feelings as me, but they dismiss the thought of an erotic crash as it comes to them. Too weird for them to think about, I would imagine. I enjoy masturbating while driving or riding in a car all the time. I usually wear short skirts when I drive for easy access. Try it sometime. You may like it.
About a year ago, I saw the movie “Crash” with Holly Hunter and James Spader. It was about people who get sexually aroused by being involved or witnessing car crashes. The characters that Hunter and Spader play met quite literally by accident. It was a head on crash that left the viewer with the image of the two hood ornaments joined in a sexually suggestive manner. As Hunter’s character removes her shoulder harness in a wounded daze, she rips her blouse open and her supple breast flops out as Spader’s character stares at her from his car as they sat there faced to face. The movie explores the psyche of those who have this affinity for and arousal caused by car crashes. The movie spoke to me as I had long had this strange sexual fetish.
Seeing the movie compelled me to read the book, “Crash,” which was written by J. G. Ballard in 1973. Ballard’s autobiographical work, “Empire of the Sun” was made into a movie by Steven Spielberg in 1987. The book was more graphic and the imagery was more potent than in the movie. Ballard essentially had the same fetish as me. I had the same feelings and became aroused by same things Ballard’s bahçelievler escort characters experienced in the book. I was relieved to know there were others that had this fetish or deviancy as I thought of it. Ballard writes about bifurcated penises and sectioned vulvas caused by impacts with vehicle interiors during a car crash. He describes the erotic postures of injured bodies in the aftermath of a crash. Often the victims were slumped in their seats with their legs splayed wide open. Their wounded genitalia openly exposed.
He wrote about husbands and wives being hurt in the same wreck and lying side by side or seated next to each other, sharing the same intensely emotional and physical experience caused by an accident. It was a very intimate and a shared experience for people to be involved in these serious car crashes. He spoke of the sex death of female celebrities while involved in crashes. It was quite bizarre, but it was right up my alley. How did he know about people like me? Obviously, there was enough interest in the book to make a movie out of it.
I was amazed that Ballard shared the same bizarre fantasies that I had. As a young girl I had fantasies or visions of car accidents usually involving me or other people I knew. I would picture genital injuries to myself and of both male and female victims, during these mock, mental crashes. My young pussy would tingle as I thought about its tender flesh being smacked against the dashboard or some part of the vehicle’s interior. For me it was symbolic for the impact of sex. Sometimes during family car trips I had visions about the car running off the road and that me and my family would injure our private parts. Thoughts of the blood stained panties and underwear of me and my family members intensified my pre-pubescent episodes of arousal. I felt guilty for thinking of such horrible thoughts. I still do. Perhaps seeing me or my loved one injured sexually was some sort of self-punishment for the guilt I felt by enjoying sexual feelings. Eventually, I came to grips with my fetish, whether or not if it was considered deviant sexual behavior. All I knew was that it turned me on and it made me feel good. It not like I was getting high on dope or something.
I carried these weird fantasies into young adulthood. I thought about being in crashes while dressed in various outfits and in a variety of circumstances. I got more aroused when I envisioned myself dress nicely, usually in very feminine clothing and sexy underwear. I would see myself wearing short skirts and dresses over pretty white panties and bras. I would think about being in a prom dress and going to or from a dance with other friends, both male and female. I would pretend to be in a wedding party dressed as a bride or a bride’s maid. Or, I would be on a honeymoon trip with my husband. All would end up in a tragic, yet erotic collision scene that would bring me to wild orgasms during my secretive masturbation sessions. My scenarios were not only restricted to cars. I thought of myself in limos, buses, trains, and jet airplanes. I thought of my pussy and breasts being smashed, bashed, thrashed, and gashed in all sorts of mishaps. Of course, I would never want to be hurt in an actual accident or see anyone else hurt in a crash. My crash fantasies are very surreal. They are not realistic and they do not have actual pain and blood. I seldom envision death in any of my fantasies, primarily just sexual injuries. I have been in a few real car accidents and none of them were arousing. They were all very frightening and at times painful.
I think my fantasies are symbolic and metaphoric. Like I mentioned before, the impact of a crash represents the impact of sex. Let’s face it, sex is a very violent and intrusive act, especially for the female. Two bodies slamming together is very jarring and is sometimes a painful action. I love the impact of sex. I like my sex rough, hard and fast. Sex can be painful at times. Genitalia are covered with extremely sensitive tissues and nerve endings. When friction or impact is applied to these areas, pain and irritation occurs. The pain causes heightened sensitivity and increased blood flow to the involved area. This is an ideal combination for physical arousal. I love the pain of sex. It is intensely erotic for me. Just look at all the people who get off on S & M. There are many Masochists and others who find pleasure in pain. How often have you heard the phrase, “It hurts so good.” For me, the thought of my pussy slamming into and steering column would hurt so good!
Like in crashes, there is some blood involved in sexual activity. A virgin bleeds as her hymen is popped during her first penetration. Women menstruate. I love having sex during my period. I feel very feminine during my time of the month. I am at the height of sensitivity both physically and emotionally. It seems that most men shy away from women during their periods. I am fortunate that it does not bother my husband. He even goes down on me during my flow. What a man! Then there are those who are turned on by cutting or blood play. I guess they are called vampires. I am not into the cutting thing, but the thought of warm blood dripping down my tender pussy lips into my ass and seeping through my virginal white panties just turns me on. Haven’t you heard your mother say, “You better wear clean underwear because you never know when you might get into and accident.” bakırköy escort What do you suppose she meant by that? Then there are those who engage in body modification or genital piercing. I don’t go for that either. But I get hot when I picture an erect gearshift being jammed up my pussy upon impact. I guess it is kind of a body modification through modern technology in the form of a car’s interior.
An accident is violent and intrusive upon the lives of those involved. Energy, mass, speed, penetration, thrusting and impact is present in both collisions and sexual intercourse. There is tension and release in both acts. The orgasm itself is symbolic as a release from life, or a death, if you will. The French have a saying for the orgasm, “Le Petite Morir” (I am not sure about the French spelling), but it means “a little death.” In a way we die a little as we achieve an orgasm. We go limp or exhale all the breath from our lungs. It is very similar to death in many ways. The moment of death, especially a violent one, must be the most emotionally and physically exerting experience to be had by a living being. The combined fear and exhilaration of knowing that a quick, violent death is imminent must be very stimulating to the senses. Some pee or soil themselves in a scary situation or just before a crash. They let loose all inhibitions and cognizant thought. Life is a building experience, full of peaks and valleys. People are always building towards something in life and there are successes and failures. There is tension and stress in life. Death is a release from life. Life is a lot like sex. Sex is a building experience and there is tension and friction. It builds to a climax and like death, the orgasm is the release. I equate the after life with the basking in the glow of an extremely satisfying post sexual experience. I believe that the feelings must be similar. Am I looking forward to death? Absolutely not. But I do not fear the prospect of death.
Collisions are the forced intersection of two or more parties or conveyances, whether intended or not. Unintended events are called accidents. People meet accidentally all the time. Sometimes they meet on the road and in cars. Generally, people sit while driving or riding in cars. Their legs are generally parted and relaxed. Their genitals are usually exposed and protected only by thin layers of material that make up their clothes or undergarments. For women, the layers of protection are further minimized. Women’s clothing tends to be thinner and their underwear more daintier or skimpier. Many women wear skirts and dresses when they go out or go to work. Most of the time only a thin layer of cotton, nylon, silk, satin, or lace protect their precious mounds. Sometimes women wear no panties at all, offering no protection in the event of a spontaneous impact. People drive around seated forward with their legs parted. This is a very sexually suggestive posture. When a collision occurs, contact is made between the cars and there is a sort of a connection made between the occupants, especially in a head on collision. The contact is felt and transferred through the cars. Front bumpers come in contact first. The forward momentum forces the drivers or occupants into their steering columns or dashboards (nowadays, airbags). In essence the occupants of one car makes sexual contact with those in the other. The cars are the vehicles that facilitate that symbolic sexual intercourse between people involved. But the vehicles get in the way like a prophylactic, which prohibits the flesh to flesh intimacy, in most cases. Post-crash postures of victims can be quite erotic. Many times people are slumped forward and legs are spread wide open. Women tend to slide out of their skirts and dresses leaving them on the seats behind them. This leaves their panties, pantyhose, or bare bottoms exposed for all witnesses and rescuers to see. Those of us with voyeuristic natures feel the overwhelming desire to take a peek at this type of vulnerable victim.
One time, my husband and I were driving down a dark and lonely country road. Up ahead we saw a car off the side of the road. It had crashed into a huge oak tree. There was no one around. We stopped to see if anyone was inside and in need of assistance. There was a young couple in their late teens in the car. The man’s face was bloody and he was barely conscious. The front windshield was shattered and the smell of alcohol permeated the crumpled car’s interior. The young man’s zipper burst open upon impact exposing his hefty package which was contained in white cotton briefs. The groin of his black pants was wet with urine. Obviously, he pissed himself as the smell of ammonia mixed with that of the alcohol. The young woman next to him was completely unconscious. Her face was covered in blood and her hair was matted with the viscous fluid. She settled far forward in her seat and her bare knees were pinned up beneath the dash. She wore a short black skirt, which she slid out of during the crash. It was all gathered up around her waist. This caused her pink satin panties to be exposed.
Due to the angle of her legs, blood from her lacerated knees dripped back up her thighs and pooled at her crotch. The shiny pastel pink material of her once pretty panties was stained with a crimson splotch of blood right at her triangular gusset. My husband called 9-1-1 on his cell phone. The girl regained consciousness balgat escort and began to cry hysterically. I tried to comfort her until help arrived. I was genuinely concerned for her, but I was ashamed that I could not refrain from looking at her bloody panties and her boyfriend’s wet, white package bulging out of his trousers. We learned that the couple had just come from a college fraternity party. The man drank too much, fell asleep, and ran off the road. Fortunately, the couple survived. We developed a friendship with the girl afterwards. She still sends us a Christmas card every year. She never knew that I became shamefully aroused at the sight of her bloody panty covered pussy in her careless boyfriend’s crushed car. I wondered how she would react if I told her. Later that night the crash, my husband and I made mad passionate love. If he only knew the perverse thoughts I had during our lovemaking.
Rear end collisions are very sexual as well. Symbolically, the offending rear ender “butt fucks” the unsuspecting victim from behind. It is like a forced sodomy or intercourse from behind. These types of collisions do not turn me on too much. I think mostly of head on crashes. They are the most stimulating for me. Roll over crashes and tumbling off hillsides comes next. I relish the thought of my bruised pussy or tits being bounced and jostled around the interior of a rolling vehicle. In bus, train, and plane crashes, I think of myself being bound in my seat by a confining seatbelt. Hmmm? Does this mean I am into bondage too? I do like being restrained during sex. During the impact, the seats give away from the floor and my breasts get pinned between the seat back in front of me and my wide opened and vulnerable pussy gets crushed against the uprooted, jagged leg of the seat or seats in front of me. All force of the crash and impact is focused on my pussy. I don’t think of fiery collisions. I am scared to death of a burning death. But I do think of a catastrophic explosion during a crash, especially in a jet plane. I envision the intense heat and force of a powerful fireball erupting through the fuselage and centering on my clit and vagina. I cum at the moment the huge fireball penetrates my vaginal opening. I would envision my pussy exploding from the heat and pressure, then I black out. Sometimes, I get that sensation when my husband fills my pussy and fucks me to the point where I feel as though my pussy will explode. He loves it when I tell him that my pussy is going to explode.
For years, my husband knew nothing of my bizarre sexual fantasies. I concealed them from him out of fear of rejection and humiliation. But I loved him and trusted him totally. About three years ago, we introduced sexual fantasies into our lovemaking. Mostly we had erotic discussions and story telling. The Literotica site has given us loads of material for this practice. Eventually, I casually integrated a car crash fantasy during a story involving mutual masturbation of a couple while driving on a lonely highway. The story involved my husband as the driver and me as the passenger seated at his side. We actually engaged in mutual masturbation as I told the story. When I described the crash and my pussy and his penis being dashed upon various parts of the car interior, we both came simultaneously. My husband shot high into the air. I never saw him spurt so high. I was relieved to know that the whole thing did not sicken him. He said it was a bit weird, but it made him get off real good. I introduced other crash stories incrementally and he has grown to love and share my odd fetish as well.
As I mentioned before, I love to masturbate while driving. I drive an older sports car that pre-dates those bothersome airbags. They are another form of prophylactic, which interferes with the feeling of close contact. I love the plush leather seats in the car. The smell and feel of leather is such a turn on for me. I like how my ass feels as it sinks down in the soft cushioned seats. I love the heavy roar of the engine. The vibration enters my pussy that rests snuggly on the seat and it courses throughout my body. I get a little wet from the vibration. I like to wear short skirts or dresses for easy access with one hand while I drive with the other. I love to caress my plump, pretty pussy over my usual white panties of various styles and materials. When I drive, I sit up forward in my seat and part my legs very wide, so that my precious mound is only mere inches from the bottom wrung of the steering wheel. Sometimes I press my soft meaty mound into the hard steering wheel. I love when my clit comes in contact with the wheel. The steering column is so erect and rigid like a big stiff cock, poised and ready to penetrate my tender pussy. The padded horn and the rim of the steering wheel make up the enormous mushroom shaped cock head. I drive fast and recklessly, half hoping to crash and having my pretty little mound being thrust upon the steering wheel with tremendous force. I think about the entire steering column ripping through my panties and invading my tight vagina. My tiny little box takes in the whole column. My clit smashes into the hard leather dash and bursts apart. I would cum immediately upon impact. I would feel like the buckling interior of the car is raping me. Wet, warm blood trickles down from my clit into my vaginal crevice. It drips through my crack and pools down in my perineum. The blood seeps out of my tidy white panties. My breasts get smashed against the steering wheel. My sensitive nipples get impinged between the hard wheel and my ribs. My fleshy breasts give away under the intense pressure and burst open. My bulbous boobs tear out of my white lace bra and flop freely about. The pain to my pussy and breasts is burning hot. But it feels so good!
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