RSS Feed

Posts Tagged ‘public masturbation’

  1. Game Night

    January 14, 2014 by Heather Cole

    The great thing about having kinky friends is that many sexual things are possible. There are many instances, however, when sex doesn’t happen and we do completely traditional things like playing board games. When I was asked to host Game Night, I anticipated mostly wholesome behavior until I received a reminder text from the lovely Ms A that none of us should wear “granny panties.” If I had any doubts after that, sir dispelled them when he told me not to wear any panties at all. Being the good sex slave that I am, I complied and wore a black cotton minidress, pink argyle knee socks, and nothing else.

    The evening began innocently enough. Wine flowed and pizza was served. We talked about regular things like air travel, microbrews, and how old we were when we bought our first vibrators. Then at the urging of his girlfriend, DS shed his pants to show us his fabulous flame covered briefs. Everyone was impressed by his underwear and its well-endowed contents. You know you’re with a good group of people when even the hetero men feel comfortable complimenting another dude on the size of his dick. I was inundated with a feeling of goodwill  and camaraderie. Disrobing seemed to dissolve any restraint in the evening, and from that point on things got raunchier.

    I stood to clear the table and sir beckoned me closer. I didn’t need to ask what he wanted, because I could see the desire on his face. My heartbeat raced. His hand slipped between my legs, and I felt his fingers push inside me. I was already slick with excitement, the titillating view of a half-naked man fueling my fires. Sir’s fingers expertly swirled inside me, and I was ready to orgasm.

    “Announce what you’re doing, slave,” he said.

    “I’m coming,” I gasped as my muscles clenched around his hand. My orgasm caught everyone’s attention, and I was overcome by pleasure and embarrassment. I stared down at the table until I could pull myself together enough to continue clearing the table.

    Sir said that I no longer blush when he makes me orgasm in front of people. Maybe my embarrassment didn’t show on the outside, but part of me remained mortified that I indulged in such exhibitionism. I felt this weird cycle of excitement, embarrassment, shame, and joy. Part of me was horrified that I got off on other people watching me come, yet another part of me was exultant. It was an uncomfortable way to be sometimes, but when I was surrounded by kinky friends, I felt less appalled.

    When Ms. A came into the kitchen with dirty plates, I had to kiss her. She wanted to talk about scheduling our next date, and I just wanted to feel her lips on mine. She was too sexy not to touch, and I wound my hand in her hair to press her closer. If sir hadn’t reminded me of my task, I think I would have spent an hour exploring the sweetness of her lips and voluptuous breasts.

    The next couple of hours were spent playing Scribblish and then Jenga. The tequila flowed, and we laughed until we cried over the ridiculous pictures we had drawn. When the Jenga tower was assembled, I groaned out loud. Two margaritas were going to inhibit my coordination considerably, so sir gave me the option of blowing him under the table. As much as the idea appealed to me, I didn’t want to miss out on the gaming fun. When it was my turn to tease a block from the stack, I felt someone’s hand ease between my thighs. I wanted to say something witty about an unfair distraction, but someone’s cool fingers were already caressing the lips of my pussy. The fingers had a delicate touch that could only belong to Ms. A. I can’t explain how I managed to get the block free without tipping the entire thing as I orgasmed, but I did it. There really needs to be an award for that kind of tipsy coordination. Or a badge. I’ll add it to my dirty Girl Scout sash right next to my deep-throat award.

    I had been made to orgasm at least five times by the time Kuma suggested that we take a break, and it felt like the perfect segue to my living room floor where I leaned against sir as the beautiful Ms. A knelt between my legs. There was no unanimous vote that the toys would come out and cocks would be sucked. It just kind of happened. Ms. A licked and sucked my clit until I came, her peppermint lip gloss making me tingle in all the right places. I writhed on the floor surrounded by some of my dearest friends, my orgasm made more intense because of the added element of voyeurism. The tableau was seared into my brain. The sturdy warmth of sir behind me, holding and supporting me, the lustful magic of Ms. A’s amazing oral skills, and her creamy pale skin spread before me like some pagan goddess. Directly behind her sat our friends and lovers, watching and enjoying our sexual offering. It was a heady concoction.

    Ms. A’s clothes came off, and then sir practiced some florentine flogging on her. The flogging spurred her toward orgasm. She fell into the arms of her partner, and he helped her finish with his fingers on her clit. I had the opportunity to watch two people connect in a cloud of lust and love. I felt incredibly lucky to have friends who were comfortable sharing facets of their connection with me, because it served to feed and foster my own.

    DS then got his cock sucked by his girlfriend which was super hot because from my vantage point I could admire her shapely ass plus expert blowjob technique. This in turn seemed to inspire sir, because he motioned me over to his chair. He nodded at the fly of his pants, and I began to unbutton them. I took him into my mouth as the conversation continued around me. He was incredibly hard, and I relished pushing him deep into my throat. I heard the words “daisy chain” and then Ms. A’s fingers found my labia again. My mouth remained on sir as she played with my body, an orgasm building rapidly inside me. I shouted around sir’s cock when I came, and it took all my concentration not to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. The generosity of my loved ones continued to astound me.

    We talked until late, reluctant to end the fun-filled evening. After the last of our friends had left, I was ready to fall into a sound sleep. I’d had more orgasms than I could count. As I snuggled into sir’s arms, he told me to sleep and that he would wake me up in a couple hours to slake his desires. He whispered in my ear as I drifted off, telling me how incredibly sexy it was to hold me and watch as Ms. A pleasured me. I burrowed deeper into his arms, and I had just enough presence of mind to smile and thank him for the amazing experience.

    “Such a good girl,” he said, and I fell asleep.


  2. Pony Rides $10 aka Heather Rides a Sybian

    August 14, 2013 by Heather Cole

    The kinky Wild West Festival was held at the private farm where I ran in the spring Slave Hunt. I fretted about my last minute “costume” which consisted solely of a white Mexican-ish patterned dress and my hair in braids. But every time I worried that I wasn’t wearing the appropriate thing to a kink event, I saw bared breasts and dangling cocks in the first five minutes of my arrival and I was instantly reassured. The festival centered around cabins that sat in a semicircle around a big barn that featured an open play space on the second floor. Imagine a kinkster’s dream play/torture space fronted by a Wild West facade. There was a cathouse and a jail, and people had set up tables in the center full of various games and services they offered for sale.

    The Sybian pony rides, offered by Dancer and his partner D, were held upstairs in the cathouse and happened to be one of the few buildings that had sweet, sweet air conditioning. The Sybian sat beneath a winch, a pair of leather cuffs dangling from the ceiling. The setup wasn’t intimidating, but the Sybian occupied the center of the room. There would be no hiding once I got on it, and this thought inspired an odd mix of anxiety and excitement in my gut. I couldn’t tell if I was thrilled or appalled, and maybe it was both things that got my juices flowing.

    I wasn’t uncomfortable with public sex. My inner exhibitionist adored an audience, but the Sybian was uncharted territory. And to make my anxiety a little more present, I was at the tail end of my period. Typically my period rarely stopped my sex life. However, public masturbation on someone else’s equipment struck me as the wrong place to be during Auntie Flo’s visit. I was barely bleeding, but when I orgasmed (and I typically orgasmed A LOT) I tended to gush blood like a crime scene. As much as I wanted to please LH and ride the Sybian, I was also anxious about my body betraying me and grossing out/offending everyone within sight. LH, being a practical dude, asked Dancer point blank if it mattered that I was on my period. Dancer, also being a practical dude, said that it didn’t matter to them. So there ya go. Decision made. Heather was going to have her pony ride.

    I knew I was feeling nervous, because I was obsessing about logistics. Did I want a medium cock or large? Slender or beer can size? Did I wear my dress or go naked? Everyone was being accommodating so that I would feel comfortable, but that only served to contribute to my unease. What would have helped the most were specific commands, but I was too jittery to articulate that need. Finally I gave a mental ‘fuck it’ and stripped. A condom and a lot of lube went on the dildo jutting up from the barrel of the Sybian which was covered in sheets of plastic wrap. Just before I was clipped into cuffs, D offered me a blindfold.

    Part of the rush of the experience would be knowing that I was being watched. I didn’t want to stare at the people around me, but I wanted to be aware of them. At that point, people had begun trickling into the room to see what was happening (and I think air conditioning was a big part of the allure). It took me a second to realize that I was the show, but I was distracted from my nervousness by Dancer’s instructions to sit on the Sybian.

    There was no graceful way to get on the thing, but that could been because I was a newb and had a bad case of the butterflies. I threw my leg over the barrel, but it would take an experienced user to get one’s vagina on the dildo at the exact same time. I almost yelled BULLSEYE when I finally got it right. Dancer adjusted the barrel up and down until I was sitting with my weight fully on it. I made sure that I had some wiggle room, though, so I could lift up on my toes if the sensations got too intense and I needed a breather.

    LH’s hands were warm on my back as Dancer dialed up the Sybian. My fears fell away as I felt the familiar pre-orgasm sensations build in my body. If there was one thing I knew how to do in life, it was how to orgasm. The Sybian felt like my best vibrator on steroids, its speed going from 0 to 100 in a heartbeat. If I shifted my hips forward, my clit was vibrated directly as the dildo twirled inside me. I felt a burst of adrenaline and was on the verge of my first orgasm within minutes, and then suddenly Dancer cut the power. He edged me a second time as all the sadists in the room laughed at my disappointed expression. LH said, “that never gets old.” Damn sadists.

    Finally the teasing stopped, and Dancer got down to business. I’ve been trained to announce my orgasms, and that rule didn’t change in public. I also swear like a sailor when I’m coming. I’m not entirely certain what I shouted as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me, but I should probably go to confession.

    At one point both Dancer and D pinched my nipples while LH caned me from behind. Beautiful pain washed through me, tinged with the pressure of another growing O. Dancer grabbed my chin to make me hold his gaze, and an orgasm bloomed in the intimate space between us. LH hit me on the ass again with a wooden slapper, the stinging pain boosting me towards a double orgasm. I was undone in orgasmic increments; all I knew was the glorious pain delivered by my owner behind me, the sensation of being impaled and stimulated at the same time between my legs, and the power of the man holding the dial in front of me. I felt hands stroking and pinching and hurting as my body quivered and my heart soared on the wings of endorphins.

    I got a break from the intensity when D offered me a cold bottle of water. I almost cried from relief, and she fanned me as I gulped down the icy liquid. My hands remained cuffed, my torso stretched between the winch and the Sybian. I adored the glorious torment of being a pleasure toy for other hands and other wills. Although I benefited most directly from the pleasure of the Sybian, it was not within my control. And that’s what got me off the most. I didn’t care who saw me being played like some sexual instrument. In fact, my experience was amplified because I was able to share it. Perhaps it was a function of ego, but I loved knowing that my scene was witnessed. I felt joy and lust in abundance, and in the heat of all those orgasms, I wanted to share them with the world.

    Afterwards LH cuddled me as my brain eventually returned to my body. He called me his glorious whore as I smiled contentedly against his chest. Several people approached me  to offer thanks for the great scene and new spank bank material, and I was thrilled to know that others genuinely enjoyed it. One of my favorite comments came from a fellow submissive. She said that it was obvious that I had been trained well, because I announced my orgasms and thanked the Tops in the scene for them. (When I was able to think, that is.) I rode the glow of my scene for the rest of the day, and neither the intense heat or a brief visit to the Wild West jail managed to diminish it.