The Oily Phenomenon

I recently turned 30, and have been living back with my parents for over a year since a messy break-up. Of course, I really appreciate my folks taking me back (I can't afford a place on my own at the moment), but the loss of my privacy and independence can sometimes be restrictive. I've managed a couple of "encounters" when my folks have been away on holiday, but nothing like the kind of regular, easy intimacy that I long for. On the other hand, I'm not sure whether I could fully trust anyone again. Anyway, that's just a bit about my situation... for the visual among you, I'm quite tall with a full, hourglass-shaped figure (big boobs and wide hips), dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. I wear specs and I suspect I look much more innocent and conservative than I really am.

I've shared one or two stories on here before, but I must admit I take more than I give, catching up on the stories every few days for a cheeky thrill (usually on my boring bus ride home from work!). Today I'm going to tell you about an aspect of my sexual response that is a bit unusual and puzzling to me - I wonder if any other women have experienced the same thing?
The best I can describe it is... well, you know when you have one of those really deep, usually g-spot stimulated, orgasms that make you squirt a bit? And you know how the fluid that comes out feels so thin and oily, like nothing else on earth? Well, very occasionally, I get so aroused (without even touching myself) that the same oily fluid runs out of me like crazy. It's not the same as getting "wet" - and believe me, I have plenty of experience of that by now! - it seems to be some strange hyper-arousal reaction.

The first time it happened, I was living in a fifth-floor flat - in the city but next to a grassy canal-bank where people gathered in the summer - and pottering around on a lazy Sunday morning, watering the plants on the balcony. My then-partner was still asleep and I'd just got up and quickly showered, with my hair tied up loosely on top of my head, and wore a big towel wrapped around me and tucked under itself. I wasn't used to people being around that early, so it surprised me to hear some sort of commotion down by the canal. I stepped closer to the railing to see what was going on, and discovered I was actually the source of the excitement. Five guys, who looked to be a mixture of slightly older and younger than me, were relaxing on the lawn and had spotted me in my towel. One of the many part-time jobs I do involves modelling nude for art classes, so it didn't seem a big deal to me to be on my own balcony in a big towel, but apparently there wasn't much else going on because the guys were whooping and shouting things like, "Drop the towel, gorgeous!"

Despite being a life model, I don't think of myself as an exhibitionist, so I was surprised by how suddenly arousing it was to be the object of lustful attention like that. Perhaps it had something to do with knowing that even when my boyfriend woke up, I wouldn't be getting any attention from him (the eventual break-up was not a surprise). The men looked a bit rougher than the types I would normally associate with, but the building had a secure intercom entry system and was tricky to navigate through, so I knew there wasn't much chance of them appearing at my door. The only other people at ground level were a teenage boy (around 16) and his dad, fishing further down the canal. I looked around to make sure none of my neighbours were up and about, and leant over the railing (still in the towel) with my boobs squashed between my arms to give good cleavage. I feigned innocence: "What, this towel? Huh? You want me to take it off?!"

"Yeah! Take it off! We wanna see your tits, gorgeous!"

I took a step back and up onto the step in front of the open door to the living room, and unhooked and casually dropped the towel. The resulting whistles and shouts of delight were music to my ego, and I played up to it a bit by cupping my boobs and offering them forward for inspection. It was quite a feeling to be naked in the morning sunshine, with a view right to the horizon, not to mention being adored like that.

"Oh my god - look at those tits!"
"Fuck..."

One of the older guys jokingly mimed jacking off inside his tented shorts, which gave me such a tingle deep inside (well, there's a reason I visit this site so much!). Another bloke asked if they could come up to the flat, but, smilingly, I told them, "No, sorry!" and they were very good about it. With a wave, I turned and went into the flat, which is when I realised that my thighs were sliding against each other in a strange and exciting way - I was ridiculously wet with the mysterious oily fluid, and wasted no time in fetching my rabbit vibrator, throwing myself onto the sofa and fucking myself to a quick but immensely satisfying orgasm. 

An amusing footnote to this event occurred about half an hour later, when I peeked out to check that the guys had gone so I could finish watering the plants. They had, and there was now only one fisherman remaining - the teenage boy. That was when I noticed that he was busily wanking, with one hand inside his black jogging pants and the other holding the fishing rod. I didn't have the clearest view, but there was really nothing else he could have been doing (shaking a ketchup bottle in his pants?! Probably not...). His dad returned after a little while and he stopped, but I couldn't be sure whether he managed to finish in time, much as I love the thought of him spending the rest of the day squelching about in cum-soaked pants. I've no idea whether that was connected to my nudity (I wasn't sure if he'd seen), although it's always nice to think you've made some young man's day, isn't it...

Well, I know this hasn't been the most graphic story, but I thought some readers might be interested in the oily phenomenon and the stimulus that caused it. Let me know if you'd be interested to hear about the second time it happened, or about the other things that turn me on.

Happy wanking, everybody