Isn’t it funny how something innocent and unexpected can really get your motor revving? We tend to find our particular passions, at least I think, through serendipity. I remember the time when I discovered that I have a huge exhibitionist streak. It was unintentional but so amazing for me. I was young, old enough to know better, but too young to care. It wasn’t like I was innocent! I was raised in a Wiccan hippie atmosphere, after all. I knew my parents were swingers; I knew all about kinks and fetishes and swapping and the fact that both of my parents “liked” both men and women.
I was at the local library, studying for some assignment and I was wearing just a t-shirt that had “She’s a witch, burn her!” and a flowy skirt. Other than some shoes, I wore nothing else. I was seated at a long table in the back, my books spread out before me, reading and taking notes intently. Unknown to me in the moment, my legs had spread out as far as the books I had my nose buried in. I was totally oblivious to my lack of modesty.
One man, however, was not so oblivious. He was older; by the Goddess he must have been in his late twenties or early thirties! When you are in your late teens, that seems like a venerable age. He was also not very subtle. He was walking near me and he suddenly stopped with a sharp intake of breath. I looked up only to see his eyes glued to me with a huge grin on his face. I realized what was going on and snapped my legs shut, feeling startled. He turned red and moved on.
Feeling embarrassed and ashamed, I literally ran out of the library and into my beat-up old car. Before I had even left the parking lot, I realized how wet I was. I ruminated over what had just happened and immediately realized that the attention turned me on to the point that I was touching myself while driving. I had to stop someplace to calm down and an outdoor ice cream stand seemed perfect. In those following moments, I did it again, this time accidentally on purpose. The thrill for me was indescribable!
Like I said, innocent and unexpected.
The same thing, in spirit, happened to me yesterday. I was working on a story, a confessional of my sexual desires, and she was helping me. Why was she helping? Let’s just say that while I write well, my grammar is atrocious. She helped me with some issues I had, gave me some pointers, and was quite nice and helpful. I thanked her for her help to show my gratitude. My story was accepted and I went on with my day. Then came her unexpected message.
She wrote, “I have a naughty confession to make. I just got off to your picture.”
I’m used to men saying and doing things like that. Yes, guys, it is appreciated and I do enjoy the flattery and attention. I did just mention that I’m a showoff, right? However, just be warned—for me and probably all ladies in general—just because you like our pictures or prose does not mean that we necessarily want to meet you, have cybersex with you, or talk dirty. If we feel like getting nasty with you, you’ll know.
But this was entirely different. She was complimentary and appreciative in a way that only women can be. She wasn’t trolling for some online dirty-talking romance. She just mentioned that she loved my physical appearance and took matters into her own hands. It wasn’t as if she were hitting on me; it was just an adult lady being openly sexual and confessing it to me. I was taken aback and instantly felt those butterflies in my stomach, thighs, and loins, just like when I discovered that I like flashing innocent and appreciative bystanders.
I shot her a message right back, showing my appreciation and letting her know how flattered I felt. Before I had even finished typing what I hoped was a reciprocally appreciative note, I felt the heat and moisture between my legs. Although I had other things to do and a date to prepare for, I kept going back and reading her two-sentence message over and over. It drove me to the edge of physical explosion.
The rest of my work-day was a blur. I’d do some work, wait on a customer or two, and then jump back online and read her message for the umpteenth time. I swear that every fifteen minutes I had to go to the back rows of the store and get myself off. The fact that I have no clue as to what she looks like just added to the mystery and fantasy aspect.
I sped home after I closed up shop and tried to get ready for my date. I was thankful that he is a friend with benefits because she definitely put me in the mood for love. I put on a patchwork peasant skirt and a crocheted midriff halter top; nothing else except for some sandals. I was planning on dressing in elegance, but I chose those clothes to suit my mood and my makeup was applied a bit heavy and stark. I looked like quite the sex-doll.
Waiting for my friend to arrive and knowing that he’d just come on in when he showed, I bided my time by rereading her message over and over, then checking out her profile for the thirtieth or fortieth time that hour, and then perusing her stories. One hand was clicking the mouse and my other hand was clicking another button under my skirt when his voice startled me.
“I’d freeze this moment in time if I had the power,” he said. I looked up after gasping in shock. Okay, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen me playing with myself. In a way, it is part of how we met. That is its own story.
I looked him over, handsome in that rugged roguish sort of way, with a well-muscled and athletic build. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were covered in a black loose linen V-neck shirt. His inverted triangle torso sat atop faded jeans that were tight in the right places and his long fine hair haloed his elfin face.
“Just a minute,” I moaned out. I could see his erection growing in his pants. Always gallant, he just stood there watching. His eyes roamed over me, drinking me in.
I felt my orgasm coming on and quickly pulled up her message once more. With him looking at me with open lust and her words on my screen, I convulsed and moaned through an incredibly intense orgasm. He stood there appraising me as my convulsions subsided, then helped me to my feet. As he bent to straighten my skirt, he let his fingertips brush near my pussy lips. His fingers glistened with my juices as he licked and sucked on them in front of me. His mottled gray and hazel eyes stared into my soul and did nothing to quell the fire still burning inside of me.
“Dinner?” he queried as he led me towards my door.
“No, not tonight.” I retorted, my voice all husky. “I’m in a naughty mood. Let’s get some drinks.”
“You know,” he laughed out. “As much as I love the idea of you being in a naughty mood, if you’re going to be drinking, you should know that I have a rule.”
“A rule?” I said as I let my hand grab his behind.
“Yes,” he said with mirth in his voice. “I never take advantage of a lady that is intoxicated unless sex was a foregone conclusion.”
“How chivalrous!” I laughed. “How’s this? You’re going to take me out for drinks; then we’ll do something fun and naughty, and come back here and fuck. A friend really got me worked up today and I’m going to take out my frustrations on you.”
“As you wish,” he said with a mock bow.
We stopped at an upscale tavern. The air conditioning made my nipples stand out. My nipples standing at attention gave us excellent service. On my second drink, the waiter lingered in an attempt to look down my top. When he came with my third round, I made sure that he had a good look up my skirt.
When my date mentioned that the guy across the room was staring at me I replied, “That’s because I have my legs spread and he can see that I’m not wearing any panties.” My date spurted his water out (he wasn’t drinking because he was driving) and laughed so hard that tears came out of his sexy eyes.
I decided that it was time to leave. We left, arm in arm, kissed in the parking lot, and then made for my house. Now there are kisses and there are kisses. His kiss melted me; it set me on fire. If you’ve ever heard the term “owned with a kiss,” then you understand. It was raw passion, probing, tentative, and a promise of delights to come. He knows how to kiss; his kisses are better than a lot of the sex I’ve had.
Two blocks down, I spied an adult store and told him to stop. I jumped out of the car and beckoned him to follow me. One couple shopping and one lady staffing the counter was the entire occupancy, except for us. I perused lingerie, toys, and videos with him in tow. The attendant helped me to pick out something I had always wanted to try; a “training” butt plug. It was small enough not to be intimidating.
My date, ever the gentleman, paid for it as well as the recommended lube and some sanitizing wipes. He then turned to me with an impish grin and said, “I dare you to wear it home!”
The couple stopped shopping and stared; the attendant smiled. I shrugged and decided to blow his mind. Opening the lube I reached under my skirt and lubed up my behind. I then slowly caressed the toy with my slick fingers until it glistened.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said. “How does one do it without hurting?” I asked the attendant. She smiled broadly and came out from behind the counter. She told me that she has one a bit larger than my small one that she uses all the time. She began instructing me on how to insert it.
“Will you do it for me?” I said, making my face a mask of total innocence. Her face lit up and she nodded vigorously. To add dramatic flair to the situation, I bent over the counter. She plucked the sphincter toy from my fingers, looking me in the eye.
Her hands traveled down the outside of my skirt, then slowly traced the insides of my legs from my ankles up to my ass. I imagined it was my online friend instead of this sexy but random stranger. I noted how quiet it had become in the store. Her fingers probed my behind with tenderness and lust and she spent enough time on my pussy that my hips began to buck. Then she kept the pace up on my lips and clit and slowly inserted a finger into my back door. Moving it in and out slowly, she gently probed and expanded until my reflexive resistance had relaxed.
She definitely knew her way around a vagina! She had me close, on edge, and held me there, neither advancing nor relenting. Then I felt the semi-hardness of the plug. She worked it in slowly with just enough pressure. She sped up on my clit and then pushed the plug in the rest of the way at the perfect moment. My knees grew weak and my date reached out to steady me.
Her assault on my nether regions subsided, tapering off rather than stopping. “You made my night,” she smiled at me.
I bowed, noting that it didn’t take much effort to keep the plug in. It felt awkward and uncomfortable, but I noted that despite that, there were also tingles of pleasure shooting up and down my body. I grabbed my smiling date’s hand and dragged him out of the store.
At my request he sped us home. Again, at my request, he had disrobed before we hit the door. I tore off my skirt and pulled up her message once more. I showed it to him.
“So that’s what has you in such a heat!” He said.
I pulled up her stories and pushed his head between my legs as I sat. I love his kisses and I needed him to kiss my other lips as I read. I read my admirer’s story about finding herself in submission while I soaked his face. I had him read about her college adventures as I returned the favor. I bent over the desk and begged him to fuck me like a slut and to spank my plug-filled ass as I read her bondage fantasies.
Then I sent my amazing date home with a smile on his face. I read some more of her stories before I took out the plug. It wasn’t the most romantic date I’ve ever had, but it was so much fun. She was definitely the key to my lust last night.
If she reads this, thank you for the flattery and the inspiration. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, hence why I did not mention you directly, but I want you to know all about the effect that you had on me. Luckily my friend was there for me to quench the fires you started!
