More In Public

A Joni’s Butterfly is a vibrating pad that you wear under your panties. It’s concealed, and the control can be fed up through clothing into a pocket. I learned quickly that wearing jeans or sweatpants works, but a dress doesn’t, since there’s nowhere for the wire to go.  So on this occasion, it was skirt, panties, top, no bra, and a semi transparent top that shows my dark areole and of course, my gold nipple bars!  And as I walked into the mall, I played with the little switch. I knew the second it started buzzing that I would cum. Starbucks beckoned mainly because it was rammed with people. Just what I wanted. Coffee in hand, I sat there, buzzing away nicely, surrounded by people. Now and then, a guy would stare at me noticing my top and hoping I’d move so the pattern would shift and show more of my breasts.  Being noticed and stared at is a turn on, so when the cum happened, I wasn’t surprised it came on so fast.  It was nice, yes,  but it also felt like cheating. This isn’t masturbating in public. This is being made to cum, and that’s different. It was too private, too discrete i left Starbucks disappointed. I’ll find a use for my butterfly, but cumming in public isn’t it. There was no real risk involved, and isn’t that supposed to be part of masturbating in public? On another day, I tried something different. One of the other things I brought was a heavy, expensive, lead crystal glass dildo. It is a beautiful object and very well designed and made.  The Library, then? I found myself a study booth and looked around. I didn’t want to be squirrelled away in a corner with my back to the wall and being able to see the whole room. That’s too is cheating. I wanted to run the risk of someone surprising me.....catching me.....as I get closer to cumming my grip on the here and now seems to become very hazy.  There were five other people, all engrossed in books or computers. I sat myself down, and pretended to read. I’d already taken my panties off and they were in my bag, but I decided I might move them so that they were just slightly visible. At the same time, I grabbed my toy.  Anticipation is part of sex, isn’t it? Just holding it and knowing what I was about to do made me wet. I spread my legs and was just going to get going when a girl flopped down on a beanbag chair diagonally from me. There was a chance...a good chance....that if she had looked up, she could see under the table and up my skirt. Then again, in the position she was sitting, I could definitely see up hers!  Its odd, isn’t it, how some teenagers sit. There’s a stage between childhood and adulthood where a developing girl doesn’t seem to care who sees her panties. It’s as if we aren’t aware of it. My mom was always nudging me if I sat like that and casting a meaningful glance downwards. I got the ‘decorum’ lecture many, many times.  Still....a girl of maybe 15, 16, and panties on display.  I reached my glass friend up my skirt and teased it around my clit. It felt cold but very nice. Vaginas, if they are ignored, seem to pout. Mine wanted this thing inside her, and I wasn’t doing it, so she responded by making me even wetter, and I’m sure I could feel her lengthening and widening inside, but maybe that was just my imagination. when I’d teased myself enough (too much?) I slipped it in. I was so wet it went in with no resistance whatsoever. It also made me moan which I converted into an unconvincing cough. The girl looked up. I mouthed “Sorry” and smiled back.  As I slowly fucked myself, I stared at her panties. What was under there? Smooth or hairy? Virgin? Probably, but who knows these days? Does she masturbate? How often? When? Has she done herself today?  I looked more intently, and one of my questions was answered. There was a small whisp of hair. Oh, how I wish there had been a damp patch. I tried hard to convince myself I could see one, but it was just the fold of the material. Meanwhile, things were going very nicely under my skirt. Long, slow full length fucking was really doing it for me.  My mind, though, wouldn’t quite lock onto a fantasy or image. The girl was nice, yes, but somehow it wasn’t enough.  Then it hit me. I imagined this girl with her boyfriend. He was about to pull those panties to one side and fuck her. That was it! I imagined the soft, pink, wet cunt lips, the expression of anticipation on her face mingled with fear....will it hurt?....oh I want this.  Just as I got to the point where he pushed inside her and her face crumpled into exquisite agony, I came. Hard! I immediately felt wetness on my thighs and I clamped my knees together. I couldn’t have this splattering onto the carpet and making a sound she might have noticed. The cum just wouldn’t stop. It ran on and on. Just when I thought it was ebbing away, another contraction hit me. Maybe it was more than one orgasm, I don’t know. I don’t care!  By now there were teeth marks on the back of my hand. How I kept quiet I will never know. I daren’t even cough, because any sound I mad would have turned into a sexual moan....or scream. My nipples hurt, but that just added to it too.  I was frozen in place. I daren’t move until this was over.  Eventually, it did subside, although it felt like ages.  Taking my dildo out almost started me off again. I put it back in my bag quickly, but then I had another problem. I wondered what damage was down below. Had I wet my skirt? I hadn’t throught this through really. I hadn’t raised my skirt at the back, and it was that colour and kind of material that really shows moisture. No doubt psychologists would say that was a subconscious desire to be caught.  I reached a hand up onto the chair and over the part of the skirt I was sitting on. It was wet. Very, very wet. I grabbed my panties and tried to mop up in an invisible way.  Then I sat there until I was alone. (Two fucking hours!) before running to the restroom across the reading room.  In the stall I took my skirt off and surveyed the damage. Actually, it could have been worse. There was wetness on the back of the skirt, but I figured the hand drier would deal with that. So, panties on, (very damp panties) and over to the hand drier. Please God don’t let anyone come in!  God wasn’t listening. A woman walked in, saw me drying my skirt, and smiled sheepishly. “Happens to me too sometimes, hunny.” and disappeared into a stall.  So crisis managed, and I walked back to my car a very happy girl, but also a much wiser one.  Public masturbation, especially by a girl who usually squirts, needs careful management. I don’t mind in the least squirting on the carpet. But I do need to make sure my clothes are protected. I also need to plan in advance if I’m going to do this and wear stuff that wouldn’t show if I had an accident.