The thing about exploring different parts of your sexuality is that you have to confront questions you never thought you would. You have to think about things that no one ever mentioned as possibilities when you had your first kiss or fucked for the first time. Writer Kayla Lords tells a story about exploration and the difficulties of quiet bathroom masturbation.
"Do you like her?"
He asked it casually like we were talking about where to go for dinner or whether I’d checked the mail or not. Did I like her? What did that mean? She was beautiful. Deep brown eyes, a round ass, and perky boobs that I imagined fitting in my hand perfectly. Did I like her looks? Oh yes. I think she knew she was being admired. Some women usually do. Not me. I assumed no one was paying attention, but something about the way she smiled at both of us, a lingering look, it made me think she knew. Maybe she realized it before I did.
“She’s very pretty.” That was as much as I could manage, watching her walk away, hips swaying, imagining her legs out of the jeans she wore. “What else.” He knows me so well. Looks aren’t everything. I liked the sound of her voice. Her smile was bright, and her eyes intelligent. She looked smart like she could hold a conversation. She had lines around her mouth that I knew meant she smiled and laughed a lot. I told him this.
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Bathroom masturbation is allowed
When she came back with our drinks, I was flustered. We’d spent the entire time she was gone talking about her. She leaned over to put my drink down, farther than she had to. I smelled her perfume, her soap, and her skin. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes, forgetting she was right there. Of course, I realized what I was doing a second after I did it. My eyes flew open in shock. I met his gaze, bewildered and mortified. He smiled. “Maybe you need to go wash your hands before we eat.”
Grateful for the excuse, not bothering to worry that he’d given me a command in front of a stranger, I nodded and stumbled out of my chair. I walked quickly to the bathroom, not daring to look around. We had an agreement that I could touch myself, whenever I wanted to, as long as I told him about it later and bathroom masturbation was a popular option. This was one of those times. As embarrassed as I was that she had seen me smelling her, I was horny and desperate for relief. Maybe an orgasm was exactly what I needed. Sort of like the guys who jerk off before a date so they can be more chill, this bathroom masturbation session would take the edge off.
In the stall, I pulled my skirt up and pushed my panties aside. My cunt was hot and soaked already. Being caught had only turned me on more, I knew that. Engorged and ready, my clit stuck out, almost demanding attention.
Image: smi7r via Flickr.com CC BY 2.0 license
Bathroom masturbation with an audience
The first touch was searing, painful in its intensity. I barely registered the sound of the bathroom door opening. I knew enough to cover my mouth with one hand as I swirled and stroked my pussy. I wanted to dip my fingers in deep, but I knew the sound would echo. I was too wet for anything else. Instead, I touched my clit over and over again until my toes curled in my shoes, and my thighs trembled. When the orgasm hit, a small rush of fluid covered my hands and dribbled down my legs. My knees shook with the intensity. It didn’t calm me down liked I’d hoped. I wanted more. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted someone to lick my pussy and suck my clit. I wanted to scream with pleasure.
But it would have to do. He knew what I was doing in here, but too much longer and it would probably look strange to her. Unless he ordered dinner for me. No, I better get back out there. I cleaned up as best I could in the cramped stall, remembering at the last minute to push my skirt back down.
I opened the door and squeaked. She was in front of me. Right there. With a smile on her face. A knowing grin. Fuck, she’s hot, I thought. And then, what is she doing in here? “Need a hand in there?” I gaped, my mouth open and closing like a caught fish. I had to look like a fool. “I heard a rumour that you liked me.” She grabbed my hand, still sticky and damp, licked the come off my fingers, moaning in pleasure as she did.
“Mmmm, I like you too.”
Kayla Lords is a freelance writer, sex blogger, and a masochistic babygirl living the 24/7 D/s life.
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