We were parked on some random suburban street and couldn’t be bothered going into the house. The sexual tension between him and I was so thick, it led to me doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Hand jobs in a book store. Blow jobs in a laundry mat. Sex in a storage unit. I just didn’t give a fuck. It could have been my age. My hormones. Or simply my love. Either way, when the sexual chemistry reached a point of no return, it did not matter where we were. We had to have it each right in that moment.
So there we were…parked in a car on some random suburban street. He had just turned the car off but did not immediately unlock the door. Instead he looked me deep in the eye.
“I want to watch you touch yourself,” he whispered.
I did a double take. I was always willing with him. Willing to do whatever whenever. But for someone who barely masturbates, I was taken aback by his request.
“Yes. I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to see how you touch every part. The pressure. The stroke. Which fingers you use. I want to learn all the ways to touch you. I need to watch you touch yourself. Do it,” he commanded.
I didn’t even bother to see if anyone was walking down the street. All I wanted in that moment was for him to know what it meant to touch me.
I pulled off my thong, put one leg on his dashboard so that the angle of my body was comfortable and perfect for his viewing pleasure. Between closing my eyes as a natural response to my own touch and opening them to watch him watch me, it took only minutes before my body began convulsing with pleasure. In the scale of orgasms, it wasn’t the biggest one but it was a good one. A different one. A public one.
The entire experience was full of pleasure. Watching him and his dick grow more and more excited. Watching his breath catch as my own did. Watching his eyes and his lips and his hands as he peered at everything I did and every motion I made.
As if that was not enough, immediately after my orgasm but before I could even move an inch or readjust myself back to the reality of this car on this street in this random suburb with my leg practically in the air, his lips were on my clit. He began devouring me as if the famine had just ended. My body convulsed again and I collapsed into my seat in a wave of pleasure. As I tried to steady my breath, he passed me my thong. He simply licked his lips. “We need to go inside, I want to touch you now.”
I learned recently that May is commemorated as International Masturbation Month. According to Wikipedia, The first National Masturbation Day was first observed May 7, 1995, after sex-positive retailer Good Vibrations declared the day in honor of Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders who was fired by President Bill Clinton for suggesting masturbation be a part of sex education curriculum for students. She was terminated on December 9, 1994. According to her Wikipedia page, she was the first African American appointed as Surgeon General of the United States and her birthday is August 13th. So is mine. It appears we may be cut from the same cloth. That pleases me.
When was the last time you touched yourself? Did anyone watch?
Sheena LaShay is a Wild Magical Woman, Intellectual Sensual Shaman, and Creative Artist. She writes for SheenaLaShay.com, Owning Pink, Verizon Wireless, Bodybinds and is the Co-President of the Pole Dancing Bloggers Association.
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