Or should I call it reverse voyeurism? Judge for yourself.
One of the many wonderful things about clothes with elastic waist bands is the ability to masturbate in public with none the wiser. I just spent a two hours at a coffee house; half of that time devoted to nothing more than watching people. Innocently chatting with one another, strolling past hand-in-hand, staring morosely at the screens of their laptops as they struggle silently through the esoterics of connecting to HotPoint.
The Bourgeois Pig is not the murkiest night spot I’ve ever been to, but it’s my favorite. The lighting provides ample opportunity to do quite a number of things that you would rather remain unseen. Or at the most, half-seen. Anywhere else, I’d have to have a coat thrown over my shoulders, optimally shrouding my lap. (Where there’s a will, there’s a way, baby.) I used to think that there’s nothing quite as thrilling as doing something dirty while others are watching.
Tonight, I learned otherwise.
The chills you get when you circle your clit with a moist fingertip are magnified tenfold when done in front of others. Should you try it on the sly…keeping others from finding you out, well…sensation is amplified a hundredfold, and it is almost indescribable. The frisson that washes over you when you make eye contact, the shudder you try to hide when someone speaks to you, all unknowing. The sensations all blend together to make an incomparable experience, one that I know I’ll seek again and again. A treasured compulsion to undergo it repeatedly.
The only downside to the experiment was one of my own making. Clitoral stimulation alone rarely gets me off; I need more. Maybe in this situation it’s a boon, however. I am not the quiet type when it comes to orgasms; I can barely control my body, to tell the truth. While I’m more than willing to watch people while I get off, I’m not yet ready to let them watch me. Not more than a half dozen, anyway. I think I’m going to need to study this situation more.
New hobbies are so invigorating.