Worrying Times?

Im horny…that is,, I was horny right through my cycle, with only a noticeable change during my period, when I seem to want more ‘extreme’ things. (Ok, downright dirty things). The last three months, though, well, they’ve been weird. From my period onwards, I go through and intensely feminine week or so, building up to a more raunchy state until it’s period time again. Ovulation makes me crave cock…no, more than crave…..i desire it anywhere….any time…and (bizarrely) any hole.

But during the last three months, there has been a period of about five days, slap in the middle of my cycle when I’ve become indifferent to sex. Not even masturbation.

And it’s about masturbation that I want to talk today. 

I have a tremendous sex life. Emily is extraordinary in bed..or anywhere, come to that…..Dani is an utter delight, a keen and eager student of sex, always ready for something new…..and then there’s Alan, who, like his brother used to, more than satisfies my desire for cock, in any scenario, or any hole. 

But even with all this ready access to sex with others, I still masturbate every day. Sometimes once, sometimes more than once, and I absolutely always yield to my desires when it comes to when and where I do it. I’ve always loved doing it not only out of the bedroom, but out of the house too. 

Last week, I was driving back from the hotel when the ‘stop now’ indicator on my car showed up. Fortunately, it was just coming up to the lay-by between the two private schools. (One is all girls, the other all boys, and they aren’t related in any way. Two totally different companies u]run them. I often used to imagine the girls sneaking out for illegal meet-ups with the boys.) It was in this lay-by that I would sometimes watch during their respective cross-country runs, and let Miss Brain take me on a masturbatory journey, but that hasn’t happened for ages. 

The weather was awful. A really dark, heavy, overcast grey sky and flurries of sleet….more snow than rain. No way would they be sending their students out running in this. Except, they were. The boys school had their older guys thumping round the edge of their school field…in shorts, for fucks sake…soaked to the skin, and I have no doubt freezing cold. What sadistic bastard of a PE teacher would do that? No doubt someone who said it would ‘toughen them up’, while remaining in the nice warm school himself! I remember that feeling from those two ancient nuns who taught us P.E. 

It’s miserable, sitting in a cold car waiting for a tow truck that could be (and, it turned out, would be) hours away. I watched these guys running and the rain soaked their sorts sufficiently to outline swinging cocks. One boy in particular caught my attention, because notwithstanding the cold, he was hung. It actually looked like he had a semi on. Every time he passed me, I saw his meat clearly, and every time he passed me, I wanted it up me….cold as it would be. In fact,having a cold cock in me began to feel o]more and more erotic. 

He wasn’t going to stop, and anyway, I doubt very much if he would have climbed into a car with a total stranger and fucked her….so, only thing to do is let me fuck me. Dress and coat unbuttoned, (no bra as usual), panties off and legs spread. If she should glance in my direction, at least he’d see my tits. I was about to start fingering when I had an idea. I creaked open the window and stuck my right hand outside. Fuuuuuuuck, but it was bitingly cold! Savage, in fact. I aroused myself still more with my left hand middle finger while ensuring my right hand was chilled to the bones, and wet with sleet and snow. 

I had that gorgeous feeling of ‘opening up’ inside that girls get, and of course, the wetness that pours from me when I’m feeling like this. My boy made another lap of the field, except this time he glanced over and stumbled as he saw me through the windscreen. By this time, my hand was so cold I could barely move it, but I was waiting for the optimum moment when my Brian caught up with my body. 

Miss Brain reminded me of a time, last summer, when I had parked quite near this spot with the intent of watching the boys run. One cheeky guy had tugged his shorts down and flashed me as he ran past. Very nice. Pity he didn’t know what would have awaited him had he climbed the fence and come over to me. However, Miss Brain made an amalgam of the two, and made me imagine my rain-soaked boy climbing over to me. She made him climb in the car as I lay my seat flat, and just, with no foreplay, er…well…shove it up me! 

And I did so using my icy fingers. What  a sensation! Cold beyond words, yet oh, I wanted more before my fingers warmed up in there. I slapped my palm over my vulva which made me squeak with cold, the orgasm was pacing behind the bars of a cage I was determined to hold it in until…..until….until……he  ran past again, and looked in at me…again….and he knew, he must have known I was doing myself. One had clamped to my tit, one hand working between my legs, my shoulder moving in tandem. I made sure to stare unashamedly at his bulge as he slowed, cupped himself, then, to my eternal thanks, tugged the front of his shorts down, and waved his cock at me which let the cum out of its cage. 

Oh, if he only knew! 

As I sat there quivering with post-orgasm aftershocks, I remembered a summer afternoon…..only one, in my entire time at my school, where the good sisters invited the cricket team from a Catholic boys school to play cricket with us. No, don’t misunderstand, only the girls cricket team would be allowed anywhere near them….and they were hand;inked, not for their cricket skills, but for their ugliness. The res of us, that is, my year and the one below, were allowed to watch from beyond the boundary. 

Me being me, I’d discovered that fielders are stationed in odd places in this, the most boring game ever, and I stationed myself where I could indulge in a little flashing. 

Yes, I would have flashed the girls too when they were fielding, but if I had, one of them would certainly have ratted me out, so I reserved it for the guys when they were fielding, but then, and thank you, God, for this, when the boy’s team were batting, the batters waiting sat close enough to me for me to flash one or two of them. So, I spent a delightful afternoon creating hard-ones, nd getting myself extremely juicy. 

Sitting in the tow-truck cab, I wondered…..suppose my snow-soaked boy had been brave enough. Would I have fucked him? I mean really, in the cold light of day? And I realised…..

….no. I wouldn’t. And that realisation shocked me, because there was a time when I most certainly would. What’s changed? I mean why wouldn’t I? I’m certain he was old enough, and by that, I mean legal. He was certain,y hunky, and just my type. But no…I wouldn’t have screwed him. I would have politely demurred. I may have let him watch….i may even have let him wank over me…but fuck him?,No. 

Not through any sense of propriety…merely because I didn’t feel  like sex…..which, for me, is worrying.