Spaghetti in Barstow

Erotica is very personal. My pref is for less detail on the actual masturbation and more on imagery and the senses experienced during those moments. Others prefer more detail of the physical act itself, which is also fine and why it’s so great that there is such diversity in the stories on SoloTouch.

I don’t really read much beyond my own personal taste unless it is so out there that it’s impossible to ignore. Experiences outdoors or in places away from home regardless of sexual identity or number of consenting persons are my usual theme. 

Let me continue with this theme. For a time, I had a bit of an infatuation with dining out alone. A relationship gone bad and trying to quit smoking, it seemed like a natural way to be more comfortable with myself…less self-conscious. At the same time, any former smoker knows that part of the trick is changing your self image, part of which is what to do with your hands when you are alone, especially when in public.

My solution? Find myself at a table at a decent restaurant where I could discreetly masturbate under the table, preferably in a booth away from prying eyes or with a nice table cloth concealing my semi-private penchant for self pleasure. I would do it without hesitation, even while talking to the servers. I never exposed myself to anyone, but I did have that sense of having shared my erotic self through body language or actually talking about enjoyment, using the discussion about enjoyment of food as a proxy for my own quite immediate sexual sensations.

Once, while driving alone from Las Vegas to LA, I was so hungry and horny at the same time that I just had to find a place to eat. It had been a long day at work and I felt the need to be nice to myself for a while.

I was on Interstate 15 near Barstow, a place that was completely unfamiliar, with no plans to meet anyone, no dinner reservations, and no work left to finish, which gave me this huge sense of freedom… nothing to do but find a place to eat. 

Exiting the interstate to look for a restaurant aroused me even more in my state of acute hunger for food and sexual release. It helped that I had chosen my clothing with my mind set on this very thing. My panties were soft cotton, which always feels so good even when a little moist, and I wore my favorite skirt that was just loose enough to not look too casual and flowy while giving me, a closet exhibitionist, plenty of exciting possibilities for something to do with my hands. 

I drove up and down the one street in Barstow with all of the typical choices for places to eat near a major highway, mostly chain restaurants, lightly massaging puffy lips through the soft material of my panties. It became a bit frustrating. Most of the choices were the typical noisy, well-lit types of restaurants that just weren’t the right atmosphere. 

I was about to give up when, on my second trip down the street, I noticed an Italian place in a rustic looking building that was definitely local. I parked and went inside and the setting was perfect. Not noisy, not too crowded, and large tables covered with tablecloths. 

My heart raced a little with excitement, to the point that my voice quavered a bit when I asked the hostess for a table for one. She sat me at table large enough for six people in a corner where I had the walls behind me and no one on either side. 

A young woman came over almost instantly and introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Ashley and I’ll be your server. Can I get you anything besides water?”

“Hi, Ashley, I’m Fonda. Do you have a good, spicy red wine by the glass?”

I still had both hands above the table at this point holding the menu in front of me, but in my mind, I was already going at it with one hand under the table and Ashley in front of me unaware of my state. As soon as she left the table, I laid the open menu on the table and my left hand went to work under the table, out of sight from everyone unless they were standing where Ashley had been a moment before. I picked up where I had left off in the car, rubbing on my soft panties, but allowing my fingers to push into myself more, instantly getting a flood of sensations from my fingers of heat and moisture while my body was filled with the tingle of excitement pulsing through me from where I touched between my outer lips, stroking slowly from top to bottom while trying look normal to anyone who might be watching me study my menu.

Ashley came toward me with my wine and I smiled as she approached, my right hand on the table and my left laying still in my lap, except for my fingers, which kept at their magic. I wondered if she could see the slight movement of the muscles in my forearm where it disappeared under the tablecloth that fell across it and my lap. She placed the wine in front of me.

“Thanks, Ashley.”

“You’re welcome. We have …”

She started saying something about the special items for the night, but at this point I was totally wandering off into sexual bliss. I was making eye contact and trying my best to look interested. When she finished, I felt a wave of pleasure and let out a little sigh.

“Oooh, it all sounds soooo delicious.” I lied, having not heard a word

“Could you give me a few minutes to look at the menu? I’m in no hurry.”

“Sure! I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I watched her walk away and studied the menu for a moment or two, then looked around the room to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied that I was going unnoticed, I lifted myself slightly and slid my undies down, lifting one leg at a time to slide them off, then putting them in my purse while pretending to search for something. I pulled out my phone and looked at it but was more focused on the feeling of coolness from the faux leather upholstery of the chair on my buns and the bottom of my thighs. I sipped my wine as Ashley came up to my table.

“Yum!“ I said with more enthusiasm than necessary.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Oh, there’s so much here that I like,” which was flirtatious sounding on purpose. I held my composure, barely, and gave her my best attempt at looking charming, now slowly rubbing a single fingertip just above my clit.

“Have you decided on anything?”

“Oooh, yes,” slipped out, almost like a gasp, I paused for moment, “definitely, darling. Bring me the pasta special and another glass of this delicious wine with my dinner.”

I had actually decided on more than just my dinner. The other thing was denial. For tonight, I would deny myself the deep desire to let Ashley in on my secret. I would quietly have my dinner, maybe flirt a little more and bring myself close, but not let the wave crash over me there in the restaurant. Not tonight. Maybe the next time that I was in Barstow.

Somehow, this made the experience even more intense. I did continue flirting. The pasta was almost as good as… no, not quite that direct, but playful conversation each time Ashley came to me. The fantasy of what could have been still lives in me now. And I will never forget her.

I drove away from the restaurant and back out onto the interstate. I’m in the dark, anonymous flow of traffic at night, thinking of her and building to an amazing orgasm there, the fingers of my left hand exploring and pushing into me faster and faster as Barstow fell away.