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Happygirl's Public Orgasms 1

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: Happygirl Posted on: 16 Jul 2004 1 comments
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Inspired by nosfera2's suggestion that I write a story about masturbating at work. The work story will come at a later date.My pussy is an insistent one, always full of want. It wants cock, it wants licking, it wants rubbing, it wants flicking. I may be doing something important or otherwise busy, but my pussy knows what it wants and how to get it... fast. I've never been able to turn down its demands or deny it for long. If I'm not at home when my pussy calls, then I need to take care of business or see that it is tended to by someone else at whichever place I'm at. Rub, rub, rub... lick, lick, lick... or thrust, thrust, thrust... and then it will tighten, convulse, and relax--satisfied for the time being.In college, there was a bathroom in the student union with lots of writing on the inside of the stalls. Each stall had a theme, and one of them was the masturbation stall. Lots of tips and techniques were swapped there along with poetry running along the lines of "Some come here to pee and shit, while I come here to rub my clit..." I got off plenty of times in there, and the thought that plenty of other women did, too, was a turn-on. Flick, flick, flick, rub, rub, rub... aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Conveniently, I would wash the pussy juice off my fingers in the sink afterwards and go on with my day.Although I've had public sexual encounters with my boyfriend in high school, the most memorable ones were those I had in college with another boyfriend. Since Carl and I both had roommates, it was difficult to find opportunities to be intimate with each other. The library was huge and presented possibilites for undisturbed public sex. There were, of course, the high-traffic areas that we avoided, but after an extensive exploration of the many maze-like twists and turns, we found out-of-the-way places that no one seemed to frequent.Our favorite place was in the older section of the library that housed books written in lesser-studied languages. It was not as well-lit as the newer addition onto the library, and the hallways were narrow and the ceilings low. We never saw anyone there. There was a table with four chairs near the shelves that held the Hungarian books, so we made this our love nest and started planning visits with each other in "the Hungarian Quarter."For these special dates, I would wear a long, loose skirt with no panties. I explained to Carl and his cock (which was as eager and insistent as my pussy) that I needed to have an orgasm before penetration for it to be comfortable. There were many ways that he would do this for me. I could lean back in one of the chairs with my skirt hiked up, knees spread, and both feet planted on the edge of the table. I would hold open my full, plump labia--what Carl called my "angel's wings"--to make my erect clit pop out even more, and he would coat his fingers with my pussy juice. Flick, flick, flick, rub, rub, rub... aaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Or he would tell me to lie on the table with my bottom at that edge. Then he would sit in the chair, bury his face in my pussy, and work my hard, pointy clit. Lick, lick, lick... aaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Or we would arrange the chairs facing each other, spreading and interlocking our legs. Carl would unzip and take out his cock, and I would run my palm across my cooperative cunt which always juiced enough for two. I would jerk him, and he would diddle me... aaaaaaaahhhhhh! I always came first.As I laid on the table, Carl would stand at the edge and slide his cock into my juicy, just-orgasmed cunt. Ooooowww... it always feels best right after an ache-relieving climax. It took a while to convince Carl that pumping me hard didn't hurt. That's just the face I make when I'm about to orgasm. Thrust, thrust, thrust... aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! He discovered that it made my cunt clench his cock really tightly if he placed a thumb on my clit and rubbed the shaft up and down. Lucky for me! Rub, rub, rub, pump, pump, pump, slurp, slurp, slurp... aaaaaaahhhhhhh!One time, we tried something a little more daring. Carl moved the table right up to a narrow window about two feel across and told me to get up on the table and plant my feet on either side of the window. Then he got behind me and told me to lean back on his chest. With his hand, he reached over and gave my clit a very nice massage while my legs were spread for all to see. We were up on the fourth floor, so it wasn't a really big risk. Realistically, I don't think anyone could have seen us, because they wouldn't have thought to look up right at that place. But we could see people walking up and down the quad, and the imagined sense of danger gave us--and especially me--a thrill. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!We both had countless orgasms up in the Hungarian Quarter, but I definitely had the lion's share. And we always had the decency to wipe up our mess from the furniture afterwards.