Two resurrections...

One of which is this blog, which, due to recent kind encouragement for some of my ramblings on another site I have decided to breathe life into again. I think, actually, that the blog format may even suit me more than posting on discussion boards, as here I can make short entries, share thoughts (such as they are) and, of course, continue documenting my increasingly shameful sex life - oh - and the ability to easily incorporate pictures is exciting.

And so to the second resurrection - public orgasms.

My husband, Steve, used to love playing sexual games with me when we were out in public - at dinner, in cinemas, taxis, shops etc. Steve would whisper in my ear that his cock was hard - he'd say he'd been watching a guy staring at me and he just knew that he wanted to fuck me  - was day dreaming about what I looked like under my clothes, whether I was shaved, how I would taste....

This kind of talk could go on for hours, getting me wetter and wetter every time Steve dropped a new insight into my ear, sometimes gently touching me between my legs through my clothes or brushing his bulging crotch against my arse or hand as we sauntered through food aisles or ordered coffee. I would always get worked up into a complete frenzy - frequently taking myself off to the nearest public toilet to open my legs and feel the relief of a shuddering orgasm with my fingers stuffed inside my wet pussy. Less frequently, but far more intensely, I would cum in my knickers, wherever we happened to be - a couple of times I was so hugely aroused by whatever Steve was saying that I didn't need to be touched, just stood there shaking and reddening as wetness trickled past my knickers and down my thigh - or Steve would just seize an appropriate moment and frantically rub my pussy through my clothes, my arm round his neck as I squeezed my thighs against his hand, trying desperately to cum in the few seconds we had before we were caught.

The possibility of discovery has always been a huge part of this thrill - it is, of course, a very well known turn-on and I'm sure I share it with many millions of people, but I wonder how many have actually tried it? 

After a "discovery" incident a while ago I asked Steve about this and he said he'd talked to a lot of his mates and they all agreed that the chance of getting caught was a massive turn-on. Steve also says that many men have experienced it, at least in one way, as so many have been caught or nearly caught, masturbating. Steve told me that this has happened to him several times and on each occasion when he's been stroking his cock behind a closed, but not locked, door and hears the dreaded footsteps outside he immediately spurts his cum - such is the increased arousal. Steve said it wouldn't matter who it was outside the door, could be anyone at all, merely the thought of being caught with his cock in his hand starts it jumping and spraying onto his shoes.

Anyway, I digress a little. At the height of our public orgasm games we used a lovely toy  - a near silent butterfly vibrator which was pushed inside my knickers and controlled remotely and wirelessly by Steve, using a simple on/off key-fob controller kept in his pocket.

We had enormous fun with this little device - in fact I'm more than a little wet as I write this, remembering just how good it felt to use.  If we were going out in the evening, anywhere there would be plenty of people in close proximity, I would push the vibrator inside my french knickers (they worked best as they held the device against my clit quite tightly) and and Steve would keep his thumb on the remote buttons in his trouser pocket. 

Steve was very inventive with how and where he made me cum with the vibrator - he would sometimes pretend not to know me, perhaps sitting opposite me on the tube train, looking at me over a newspaper, flicking the vibrator on and off, slowly extending the periods of "on" until I gasped, pushed my thighs together and, although sitting, pushed my feet up onto tip-toes to strain against my contracting pussy as I came. 

Steve particularly liked to keep his distance in clubs, making me cum on the dance floor on more than one occasion. His favourite club and bar scenario, however, was to wait for someone he knew I did not like, or would not fancy, to approach me and try to chat me up. As soon as Mr. Wrong appeared on the scene, perhaps the smelliest man within 50 miles with dirty hands, Steve would start pushing the button. This led to me having to hold on to several disgusting guys for support as I helplessly wet my knickers right in front of them - I must admit that, slut that I am, some of them got the benefit of my orgasmic glow with their own opportunity to cum in my mouth or hand soon after.

So, as mentioned earlier, this practice has been resurrected by Steve and I and we had our first revival experience this weekend just gone. The original vibrator is broken so we've ordered a new, improved model but in the meantime we improvised;

Steve and I are arranging some finance to start a new business and had an appointment on Saturday morning with an adviser at the bank to run through some options. I was wearing fairly typical Saturday morning attire - vest top and fitted grey jogging trousers (I always visit the gym early on weekends) and the adviser, who turned out to be a rather attractive young buck of about 23 or 24 in a sharp suit and designer shoes, was obviously quite interested in what he could see of the swell of my breasts and the shape of my legs and arse inside my trousers. I don't believe that the outline of knickers should be visible through tight - fitting trousers or skirts so I prefer not to wear underwear in these circumstances, such as that morning.

Steve was doing the majority of the talking but our new money man, Lewis, was certainly not interested in holding any kind of eye contact with him - in fact most of Lewis' questions or replies were addressed directly to my breasts, a fact which had, of course, not escaped the notice of Steve. We were in an interview room - effectively a glass walled booth in the middle of the busy bank floor, with visibility in and out from all sides.

Lewis left the room to get some paperwork from the printer and Steve started talking immediately;  "God - he wants you - did you see his cock when he stood up? he wants that thing inside you. He's probably touching it right now, making himself cum so he can come back in here and look at you without wanting to spurt - I bet he's huge - the bulge was huge in his trousers - he's been staring at your tits the whole time  - he's noticed your nipples and when he followed you into the room he was staring at your arse, looking for knickers - but he knows you haven't got any on - he must think you're a real slut - I bet you're wet, I know you're wet - and so does he - he's going to..." At that instant Lewis re-appeared and I gasped a little - partly from the shock of his return but partly because Steve was right - he did have a very large bulge in his trousers, currently directly in my eye-line as he stood at the other side of the desk from me.

I just stared brazenly at it as Steve slowly slid his hand onto my chair and edged under my arse with his fingers. I knew what he wanted and I was in no mood to resist, so I joined Steve in making a reasonable show of listening to whatever it was Lewis was telling us about this particular bargain financial product and slowly, casually, leaned on the desk with my elbows, allowing me to raise my arse almost imperceptibly off of the chair, just enough for Steve to slide his hand completely under me.

Lewis had re-seated himself opposite us again by now and was pointing out where Steve and I needed to pay attention to the document, and where to sign, but I have to say he could have been talking about anything, in any language, as Steve had achieved his goal - what he refers to as "the bowling ball" - I was sitting on his hand and, through the thin cotton of my trousers, his thumb was pushing into my arse and two fingers were between my soaked and swollen pussy lips.

The only disadvantage to this is that I have to do all the work as Steve's hand is effectively immobile. I wasted no time and, staring at Lewis and replaying all the things Steve had just said to me in my head, I was gently grinding and rocking back and forth on Steve's hand - it must have looked like a strange little wriggling habit to Lewis but he had obviously noticed the effect my arousal was having on my nipples as he was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was fascinated by their obvious erectness as they pushed against my top.

After less than a minute of this - me riding Steve's hand, thinking about Lewis having to rush off to the staff bathroom when we left to frantically jack himself off into the toilet, all the time thinking about what he wanted to do to me, and the fact that I was literally being finger fucked right in front of him - I came, and hard. Steve claims he felt me cum through my trousers, and I believe him. We had to abandon the rest of our morning and rush straight home for two reasons - primarily to fuck like dogs over the kitchen counter, my trousers round my ankles, Steve's cock tugged hurriedly out of his flies, while Steve re-told the morning's events over and over, getting filthier and filthier each time - but also because, I can tell you, Light grey thin cotton trousers do not hide cum stains particularly well... :-)