My blog reader Bill posted a comment to "Dares That I Do" which I thought I would bring to the front. You can read his blog comment for the whole text, but basically he asks me to read an article he is linking to from the New York Times, and to comment on how that corresponds with my own feelings.
You should really read the article before my comment.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/25/magazine/25desire-t.html
First I would like to say that in answering that, I will be stepping onto very thin ice and may very well get some people very upset. Please believe me when I say that if you think so, you haven't understood what I am trying to say. I am only being analytical around some border areas that need to be investigated in order to be fully understood.
My first comment is on the rape fantasies. I have assisted one of my good friends in dealing with rape victims, so I do have some experience. One of the things often suppressed by the papers or media, either because of decency or lack of information on such matters, is that the victims have deep feelings of shame because they found that they actually lubricated and in some cases even had an orgasm. You can imagine what that does to a victim. "Did I entice? Was it my own fault? How could my body react like that, when I was so frightened and disgusted? What kind of a person am I? My response has always been the same as what the article described (that it is not because the victim wanted it), but my explanation is another one. I don't think the body reacts to protect, I think it is a basic reaction from the time when we were monkeys and didn't have fixed sexual partners, but where the procreation happened by any male forcing themselves on any available woman. Possibly for protection, but certainly for procreation the woman needed to lubricate, and possibly for the same reasons also achieve orgasm in order to be a willing participant at the next encounter. That we still react like that only shows how fast our society has developed in the last couple of thousand years, which in the development of our species is like the punctuation at the end of a 1000 page book. So no rape victim need to feel the least guilty. The guilty ones are the sick bastards perpetrating such a vile crime.
But, having said that - and here comes the thin ice - some woman experiment willingly with encounters which closely resembles real rape, and that is where the "fantasies" come into it. I admit to being one of those. A fantasy of mine would be where a friend of mine, as part of our game, ties me up naked in a revealing position, and for whatever reason leaves me for instance at the mercy of other guests at a party. Even though those other guests know it is wrong to take me against my will, their desire for me when they see me like that overshadows their ability to restrain themselves. Such a fantasy is very much like the one the article describes, where women dream of being so desirable that men just can't resist them.
In real life there would be a lot of reason for not letting yourself into a situation like that, ranging from HIV, physical danger to the problem of facing those "friends" again at another time. But people happily play role plays where they can live out the dreams. Unfortunately the border line between role plays and real situations can be difficult to detect. Like one of the victims who had an encounter very much resembling my fantasy. She was at a party and did let a friend tie her up at a time when she was drunk and aroused, only to find out he was "selling" her to a select few of his friends who had sex with her afterwards. Despite what we told her about this being rape, she didn't want to press charges, because she said it was her own fault for letting herself be tied up in the first place. Also, she admitted to having felt very aroused and not objected when the first "non-consentual" sex took place. It was only as it continued she got frightened and starting feeling abused.
This shows how close a fantasy (mine) can be to a real situation going bad. If you want to play like that you have to have a friend you trust 100% to be there and stop it when it crosses some border you have agreed in advance. But again - the safer you are the less of an excitement to those thriving on such adventures. If it goes over the line - do you call the cops? I guess not.
All this is of course totally different form the woman being pulled off her bike and raped behind the bushes somewhere. No doubt there - but even then some people lubricate and feel shame for it afterwards. Aren't we funny creatures?
In the article it is said that "I hammer home with my students, ‘Arousal is not consent.’ " And you have to hammer that home again and again to stop the sick bastards who gets it wrong. BUT.... How many girls haven't the next day regretted a sexual encounter she had had the night before when a little drunk and aroused by close dancing and a good atmosphere. Was consent ever explicitly stated? Or did the situation just escalate? Was it then rape? Of course not, but to a guy that is very close to a situation where it might be, if the girl claims more than just regret. When I was a young girl a contract circulated as joke. It was a piece of paper the girl had to sign before going to bed with a guy, so he wouldn't get in trouble afterwards. Not really a joke any more - perhaps that should be re-introduced.
I guess this response to the article was not what Bill had in mind, but it was my first reaction. Let me try and see if I can come up with a different reaction...
The article deals with the feelings of men and women. How the heterosexual men only gets aroused by women, and admits to that, whereas the woman gets aroused by both sexes and do not admit to that. Firstly I can't comment on the guys.You need to be one or have done the studies ;-) Secondly, yes I would get aroused by both sexes, but I would probably as opposed to my sister study subjects have admitted that as well. But that is because I am me, and much more willing to admit to my feelings. And no, in case you should ask, the moneys don't do anything for me ;-) At least I don't think so. I would be very surprised if a study would show it did.
It would be really interesting to run this test on some of my friends who insists they have totally straight and normal sex lives, and see what is really going on beneath the surfaces.
But I think it is true that women get aroused on a wider array of possibilities than men. Men perhaps gets more readily and visible excited and therefore cannot hide what excites them, and for that reason have developed a need to not be aroused by what is seen as not acceptable,where as women can better "hide" that she gets excited and lie about it.
The article seems to dwell on lust. Many women seem to loose that once married and in stable relationships, until suddenly something sparks it again. You see women who have let themselves get fat and sloppy, get divorced for only then go to the gym, wear nice clothes and make-up, use the settlement money for a sports car, go all the right places, discuss fucking with her soulmates, all in the same situation, for then to find the right one, and slip back into being fat and sloppy. Is the lust only something used to make the women want to attract the right man?
In that case I am an abnormality. I think "lust" all the time, and will go out of my way to orchestra situations where I can find relief for that. And I haven't gone fat or sloppy and have no intention to. Why not have a good and comfortable marriage and at the same time retain the sexual drive? I think those of us who can balance that right are very few.
It was a very good and thought provoking article. I am surprised a large newspaper had the nerve to write that in "God's Own Country", but there you are.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Dares I do.
It was really nice to see the positive feedback I got from posting just one more message on my blog. It kind of rekindled the interest in writing. Unfortunately, the conditions are still the same - I simply don't have the time for the long stories. But I thought I might get back to the topic "Games I play" and just do small blog entries explaining some of the more interesting (at least from my point of view) exposures.
The games are usually better played in the summer, when it is easier to go around with relatively little clothes on. For the last two years that we have had the flat in Spain, I have enjoyed the freedom down there to play around, first a bit innocently, but as it always are with these things, once you get going you want more and more, and before long you are doing things you wouldn't have dreamt of doing in the beginning.
Another interesting aspect is that it is so much easier to be tempted into doing something of an exhibitionistic nature when you are prompted by somebody else. It is a little bit like the fact that you do this because you are "ordered" to do it adds to the excitement.
Over the years I have been communicating with a couple of readers who have been prompting me to do things. Some of them definitely way beyond what I would normally be doing, but perhaps for that reason, so much more exhilarating.
So let me begin by explaining one of the first more innocent dares I carried through with. But I have to warn you first, that these will not be long erotic fantasies. Rather it will be explaining how I did it and perhaps a bit of what I was feeling. But I will not put it into story form with dialogue, build up of the excitement etc. You will have to add that yourself in your mental image of the situation.
Since I had been writing about wearing short dresses and accidental exposure, one of my readers gave me the dare to within 48 hours to go and sit at a bar or restaurant, wearing no underwear and letting my exposed pussy be seen.
Just getting a dare like that and thinking about it got my juices flowing. I started to think about how this could be fabricated in a way which really seemed "accidental". I wasn't going to go and sit at a sidewalk bar with my dress riding so far up that my pussy was on display to everybody passing by. So careful planning was the key. Fortunately I had 48 hours to plan it.
Quickly I understood the best way would be in connection with the morning swim I had on days when I didn't have to be at the hospital early. I would normally go to the beach, swim, put on my loose summer dress and change under that. But now I was thinking how I could adapt that routine.
There was a nice beach restaurant a bit further away from where I normally swam. It was right down to the beach, a bit elevated (about 5 - 6 feet) so you could sit and watch the beach and swimmers from the edge. With about 50 meters to the edge of the water, there was a good bit of sand, and later in the day the place got really crowded, but early in the morning there were only a few regular guests.
What I ended up doing was the following:
I put on my normal swimming outfit. It is not a very exciting thong outfit but a sensible swim suit for serious swimming. Then I wrapped my Kenyan kanga around me, put a towel, hairbrush and a book into a wicker basket and went off to the beach. I went right to the back of the cafe, parked my scooter and made it around to the front, saying hi to the waiters and the few regulars as I walked past and then proceeded to the beach. I could already feel everybody's eyes on me. I went to about halfway between the cafe and the water where the sand was still dry, dropped the kanga and went for the swim. Nothing unusual there. But coming back I dried myself with the towel, then turned my back to the onlookers while I took off the swimsuit, presenting the back of my naked body to the onlookers. Then I wrapped the kanga around me and tied it up.
I don't know if you know the kanga? It is just one large piece of material. Normally you hold it up in front of you, wrap the sides around you, crossing at the back and then to the front, tying it behind you neck. But the good thing about a kanga is that you can actually do as you like! I put mine around the back first, crossed it at the front and tied it up. In that way it fell closed at front, covering you up, but the split was up the front.
Now, if you were a male sitting at the café, would you not be looking at a lone lady swimming at the beach, stripping naked and then putting on a dress, with obviously nothing on underneath? Well, that is what I figured.
What I had noticed earlier was that the waiters when they took time off to smoke would go to the sandy bit in front of the restaurant. One of the reasons I liked this restaurant was a no-smoking policy anywhere on the premises. Normally you could smoke outside, but here you couldn't even smoke on the terrace.
So, placing myself at the outer table so I could look out over the water, I knew that people standing on the beach right down in front would have an opportunity to be able to look in under the tables and as such look at my legs.
I ordered a coffee, getting very swift attention by the waiter, and once that arrived I got my book out, lent a bit back while crossing my legs. I knew that doing so, would make the kanga split, so when I later would uncross my legs it would be wide open if I didn't pull it closed, which was exactly what I intended not doing.
Now it was just a question of waiting to the first smoking break. I didn't have to wait long. I guess they were eager to go to the beach and see how much of me they would be able to see from there.
Looking over the top of my book through my dark sunglasses I could see them milling around down in front, obviously looking up my way, not even trying to hide it. They probably thought I was reading not thinking about them.
I knew I had to do this. Not that I didn't want to. I had planned so well that it obviously wasn't me exhibiting myself, but it would be them spying on me. But I know the feeling I get, when people are looking at me under such circumstances. I would just have to concentrate on being totally cool and not get carried away.
So, when I slowly, to let them know something was going on, uncrossed my legs and just let them rest lightly open, I knew perfectly well what a perfectly clear and unobstructed view they would have of my exposed pussy. It wasn't even a question of just being able to look up under a dress. The kanga had actually split all the way up to my waist.
I know that the fact that a girl has a shaved pussy is an extra come on for the guys. But what happens to me when I get excited is that my vaginal lips starts swelling and tuning a glistering red. I don't know how obvious it is but I know my clit grows till it extends beyond the inner lips. In other words if you are close enough you will be in no doubt that I am getting aroused. That is the embarrassing bit, which is also so exciting. I can sit here and pretend not being aware what is going on, but I probably cannot hide my excited state. And if that doesn't get the guys turned on I don't know what will.
At one point I took a sip of the coffee looking down at the guys. They all turned away as if one body acting in unison. I sat back again, crossed my legs the other way (Yes - a Sharon Stone move), and pulled the kanga down. I think perhaps I had sat exposed for no more than two minutes. But certainly enough to fulfil the dare. Soon after the guys came back up again, laughing and sending surreptitious looks my way. I stayed perhaps another 15 minutes then got up, paid at the bar and left.
As an added benefit I had the exciting, but unplanned experience, of getting on my scooter and driving off with no underwear on. Now that just simply is not possible to do decently, but I couldn't stand there at the back changing. So I had to accept driving the first couple of hundred meters with the pussy on display again. Not a problem as there were nobody there, but it just added to the excitement of the situation. But as soon as I came to a denser part of the wood I drove down a small path until out of sight I could strip naked and change into my still wet swimsuit and fasten the kanga in a more decent way again.
Back home again, I got some much deserved relief and went straight on to sending a reply to my reader that I had indeed complied and won the dare.
The games are usually better played in the summer, when it is easier to go around with relatively little clothes on. For the last two years that we have had the flat in Spain, I have enjoyed the freedom down there to play around, first a bit innocently, but as it always are with these things, once you get going you want more and more, and before long you are doing things you wouldn't have dreamt of doing in the beginning.
Another interesting aspect is that it is so much easier to be tempted into doing something of an exhibitionistic nature when you are prompted by somebody else. It is a little bit like the fact that you do this because you are "ordered" to do it adds to the excitement.
Over the years I have been communicating with a couple of readers who have been prompting me to do things. Some of them definitely way beyond what I would normally be doing, but perhaps for that reason, so much more exhilarating.
So let me begin by explaining one of the first more innocent dares I carried through with. But I have to warn you first, that these will not be long erotic fantasies. Rather it will be explaining how I did it and perhaps a bit of what I was feeling. But I will not put it into story form with dialogue, build up of the excitement etc. You will have to add that yourself in your mental image of the situation.
Since I had been writing about wearing short dresses and accidental exposure, one of my readers gave me the dare to within 48 hours to go and sit at a bar or restaurant, wearing no underwear and letting my exposed pussy be seen.
Just getting a dare like that and thinking about it got my juices flowing. I started to think about how this could be fabricated in a way which really seemed "accidental". I wasn't going to go and sit at a sidewalk bar with my dress riding so far up that my pussy was on display to everybody passing by. So careful planning was the key. Fortunately I had 48 hours to plan it.
Quickly I understood the best way would be in connection with the morning swim I had on days when I didn't have to be at the hospital early. I would normally go to the beach, swim, put on my loose summer dress and change under that. But now I was thinking how I could adapt that routine.
There was a nice beach restaurant a bit further away from where I normally swam. It was right down to the beach, a bit elevated (about 5 - 6 feet) so you could sit and watch the beach and swimmers from the edge. With about 50 meters to the edge of the water, there was a good bit of sand, and later in the day the place got really crowded, but early in the morning there were only a few regular guests.
What I ended up doing was the following:
I put on my normal swimming outfit. It is not a very exciting thong outfit but a sensible swim suit for serious swimming. Then I wrapped my Kenyan kanga around me, put a towel, hairbrush and a book into a wicker basket and went off to the beach. I went right to the back of the cafe, parked my scooter and made it around to the front, saying hi to the waiters and the few regulars as I walked past and then proceeded to the beach. I could already feel everybody's eyes on me. I went to about halfway between the cafe and the water where the sand was still dry, dropped the kanga and went for the swim. Nothing unusual there. But coming back I dried myself with the towel, then turned my back to the onlookers while I took off the swimsuit, presenting the back of my naked body to the onlookers. Then I wrapped the kanga around me and tied it up.
I don't know if you know the kanga? It is just one large piece of material. Normally you hold it up in front of you, wrap the sides around you, crossing at the back and then to the front, tying it behind you neck. But the good thing about a kanga is that you can actually do as you like! I put mine around the back first, crossed it at the front and tied it up. In that way it fell closed at front, covering you up, but the split was up the front.
Now, if you were a male sitting at the café, would you not be looking at a lone lady swimming at the beach, stripping naked and then putting on a dress, with obviously nothing on underneath? Well, that is what I figured.
What I had noticed earlier was that the waiters when they took time off to smoke would go to the sandy bit in front of the restaurant. One of the reasons I liked this restaurant was a no-smoking policy anywhere on the premises. Normally you could smoke outside, but here you couldn't even smoke on the terrace.
So, placing myself at the outer table so I could look out over the water, I knew that people standing on the beach right down in front would have an opportunity to be able to look in under the tables and as such look at my legs.
I ordered a coffee, getting very swift attention by the waiter, and once that arrived I got my book out, lent a bit back while crossing my legs. I knew that doing so, would make the kanga split, so when I later would uncross my legs it would be wide open if I didn't pull it closed, which was exactly what I intended not doing.
Now it was just a question of waiting to the first smoking break. I didn't have to wait long. I guess they were eager to go to the beach and see how much of me they would be able to see from there.
Looking over the top of my book through my dark sunglasses I could see them milling around down in front, obviously looking up my way, not even trying to hide it. They probably thought I was reading not thinking about them.
I knew I had to do this. Not that I didn't want to. I had planned so well that it obviously wasn't me exhibiting myself, but it would be them spying on me. But I know the feeling I get, when people are looking at me under such circumstances. I would just have to concentrate on being totally cool and not get carried away.
So, when I slowly, to let them know something was going on, uncrossed my legs and just let them rest lightly open, I knew perfectly well what a perfectly clear and unobstructed view they would have of my exposed pussy. It wasn't even a question of just being able to look up under a dress. The kanga had actually split all the way up to my waist.
I know that the fact that a girl has a shaved pussy is an extra come on for the guys. But what happens to me when I get excited is that my vaginal lips starts swelling and tuning a glistering red. I don't know how obvious it is but I know my clit grows till it extends beyond the inner lips. In other words if you are close enough you will be in no doubt that I am getting aroused. That is the embarrassing bit, which is also so exciting. I can sit here and pretend not being aware what is going on, but I probably cannot hide my excited state. And if that doesn't get the guys turned on I don't know what will.
At one point I took a sip of the coffee looking down at the guys. They all turned away as if one body acting in unison. I sat back again, crossed my legs the other way (Yes - a Sharon Stone move), and pulled the kanga down. I think perhaps I had sat exposed for no more than two minutes. But certainly enough to fulfil the dare. Soon after the guys came back up again, laughing and sending surreptitious looks my way. I stayed perhaps another 15 minutes then got up, paid at the bar and left.
As an added benefit I had the exciting, but unplanned experience, of getting on my scooter and driving off with no underwear on. Now that just simply is not possible to do decently, but I couldn't stand there at the back changing. So I had to accept driving the first couple of hundred meters with the pussy on display again. Not a problem as there were nobody there, but it just added to the excitement of the situation. But as soon as I came to a denser part of the wood I drove down a small path until out of sight I could strip naked and change into my still wet swimsuit and fasten the kanga in a more decent way again.
Back home again, I got some much deserved relief and went straight on to sending a reply to my reader that I had indeed complied and won the dare.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year Evening 08-09
I haven’t written anything for a long time, and this is not the beginning of a new productive era. However, I had a very nice and exciting experience this New Year night, which I thought I would share with you.
The wife of the couple we were supposed to be with this New Year got ill just the day before the party. Most of the other of our friends got invited instead by another couple to whom we were too peripheral to be invited as well. Not being able to think of anything else to do we just decided to have a nice evening in by ourselves.
As my regular readers might remember Poul, my husband, likes to buy underwear for me. Normally he will not buy my a bra as he wants me to go without, but he also realizes that my breasts are getting a bit looser and as such wobble a bit too much for comport or decency when worn under lose evening dresses.
Instead he had produced in the Santa stockings a very nice set of half bra and crotchless tights. The half bra was black lace supporting the breasts to just under the nipples, lifting them up so they strutted out really prominently. The tights were the same lace, but totally open at the crotch leaving front and back totally exposed. Seeing we were going to be alone I accepted wearing that under my black dress, even though the top of the dress easily opened enough to expose the breasts and the split up the front on the dress only stopped a hand’s width from the open part.
Poul loved the way I looked, and took several pictures of me with the dress opening up exposing me both when preparing the dinner and as we ate in the candlelight. We both got quite drunk and not a little horny, planning to slip early to bed after the bells for some much needed sex.
However, just before midnight all the friends from the other party arrived at our house. The hosts had heard about us, and felt sorry for us not being invited. They had tried to call us, but our phones were on silent, so instead they had all piled into a couple of taxis, brought bags of booze, cakes, mixers etc. and a good portion of high and drunken spirit.
Probably about 2 AM I found myself at the table nibbling to the bids of food that were left over, joining into a discussion on sexy underwear. Generally the feeling was that New Year and company Christmas Parties were the place to air such garments. I did express agreement – how could I not, seeing what I was wearing. When confronted with a direct question I had to admit I had regularly gone to parties with no underwear. A couple of the other girls also admitted to this, and the guys were getting rather direct and lewd as the discussion progressed.
At one point I felt a tab on my shoulder, and Jens who sat right next to me asked,
“Is this conversation getting you excited”?
Now Jens is a very nice guy. A good deal older than me, probably late fifties, somewhat overweight and diabetic, and in my books not really one of the usual sex hungry guys milling around me at parties. So I was actually a bit surprised with his direct question.
“I guess I have to admit that”, I said, “but why do you ask”?
“Because I can see right down your dress and your nipples got harder as we talked”, he whispered in my ear.
The usual girl reaction was to immediately put a hand on the front of the dress pressing it in to your body so it didn’t hang lose exposing you. That was exactly what I involuntarily did.
“Don’t”, he whispered as he moved my hand away. The dress dropped open again, and I knew he could again look straight at my exposed and, I could feel, now even harder nipples.
When these things happen I go all soft in the knees, my belly does a funny flop and I start getting wet between the legs. Knowing that a guy is looking at me, and I just sit there letting it happen really gets me going.
The conversation was droning in the background as I felt strangely detached, only being able to concentrate on his gaze down my front. When his hand touched my leg and in one swift but hardly noticeable move reached my inner thigh, I gasped, but didn’t stop him. I seemed like he just lingered there for a second to test my reaction, and as he found none he continued all the way up, hitting the exposed skin, the outer labia to quickly and efficiently land right at my clit. I jumped a little and came to my senses.
“Jens, No. Can’t do that here, you naughty boy,” I whispered as I as unnoticeable as possible tried to pry away his hand. But as I lent over towards him to whisper this in his ear, his fingers dug into me. The feeling was so great, I didn’t want to stop him. But I guess he understood that perhaps this was really not the best time or place, because he moved his hand away. I kept looking at him, as he took his glass and moved it to his lips, but in the process managed to put his fingers that has just been inside me into his mouth, licking them, tasting my juices.
“I guess this has got you excited then”, he said in a low voice.
“I am sorry”, I said, not really knowing what it was I was sorry about, but I felt I ought to feel bad about it in one way or another.
“Don’t be sorry. I think it is so lovely when a woman exposes herself like that. Not only exposes part of the body, but also exposes her desires. I am just sorry I can’t any longer take properly part in the act. The diabetes has hit my libido; I can’t seem to get it up these days, not even with the help of Viagra or the likes. But I still love to see women letting go as you just did”.
“I don’t know what went into me there. I should normally have stopped you much earlier”, I said to him.
“Well, what went into you was a need for some attention of the right kind. Perhaps I can offer that at some time”?
I didn’t quite know what he had in mind, so I just politely hummed an acknowledgement. I guess perhaps I did need some attention.
About 20 minutes later, I was coming down the back stairs when I bumped into him again. It was quite dark, with only a couple of candles lighting up the stairways. The back stairs are kind of narrow and steep, so the way down was completely blocked by his larger than normal corpus. I guess he had perhaps come to look for me, heard me come down and just waited for me.
Being alone with him now I felt very conscious of our previous encounter. I didn’t know what to say, and as I stood there I started to feel the excitement grow again. I don’t know what attention he had in mind, but suddenly I didn’t mind finding out.
The way we stood on the steep stairs his head was below my shoulders. I put a hand on his shoulder, maybe subconsciously relaxing and giving him the go ahead. He certainly took it like that. He moved his hands up to my dress front, separated the two sides and pulled them down over my shoulders exposing my breasts. As the colder air hit the nipples they exploded, I shuddered and felt the same whoosh, getting wet and not caring what happened. His fingers found the nipples, squeezed them and rolled them between his fingers. Then he put one in his mouth, sucked it so I started to moan.
What I found so nice about this experience that I wanted to write about it, was the fact that I knew he didn’t have any mutual sex in mind. He was really bent on satisfying me, knowing how aroused I was. That meant I could totally let go and let him concentrate on giving me some “attention”.
I bent over a bit, my mouth close to his ear.
“I think I could do with some of that attention now”, I whispered.
He didn’t reply, but I felt his hand sliding up my leg, again finding the clit in one smooth move. I gasped and leant against him.
“No, move back,” he said. “I want to be able to watch those incredible tits of yours”.
And I wanted him to see me. I put my arms around my back and undid the bra, slipping it over my arms. I could hear his breathing get heavy.
“Oh Jen”, he gasped. “That is so beautiful. Just because I can’t get it up, doesn’t mean I can’t get aroused. I have been dreaming so many dirty dreams about you, but never for a second thought I would get to be with you in this way”.
He had put two fingers into me, rubbing hard at my g-point while the palm of his hand was working my clit. He was rough, hard and fast. In my excited state I would come quickly. Soon I felt the first warm small contractions, making it impossible to stand still. I was writhing in his arms. As I could feel the orgasm approaching I closed my eyes, and leant against him, clinging to his head, pressing it against my naked breasts.
“No”, he said. “Move back, I want to look at you. Don’t close your eyes. Keep looking at me as you come. I want to see the expression in your eyes as you climax”.
With the exhibitionistic sensation of a guy openly watching you climax under his administrations, I reached the explosion in less than 10 seconds. I looked at him throughout the initial spasms, as I started to loose control. I was shaking violently afraid to fall, but he had an arm around my back, the other inside me. There was no risk of me falling so I could just let go. My whole body convulsed in one of the strongest orgasms I had had in a long time. When I stopped shaking, our eyes finally broke contact. I can’t remember any guy looking so intensely at me through an orgasm. That was so arousing. Even now thinking back, I am experiencing the thrill of his eyes on me.
We didn’t say anything. He gave my breasts a small caress, kissed the nipples, like saying goodbye to them, helped me find the bra and made sure the dress was on properly before helping me down the remaining steps. Only then could I speak.
“Thank you. I really needed that. You did that so well”! I said to him.
“No it is me thanking you for letting me do it. I will never forget the look in your eyes as you came. The knowledge that you let me do that, while I was watching you, is just incredible”, he said as he gave my bum a loving pat and let me walk ahead of him so it didn’t look like we entered the living room at the same time.
Poul and I have an agreement that we tell each other about any encounters. In that way at least we don’t have to have a bad conscience about lying to each other. Also we find that talking about the experiences we have arouses the other part. For some reason this situation really turned on Poul. I guess the idea of his wife being exposed like that to Jens, a very old and dear friend of his, was new to him. So the night ended with me having a real hard dick inside me anyway.
Hope you all had some good experiences as well on your New Year evening party.
Jenifer
The wife of the couple we were supposed to be with this New Year got ill just the day before the party. Most of the other of our friends got invited instead by another couple to whom we were too peripheral to be invited as well. Not being able to think of anything else to do we just decided to have a nice evening in by ourselves.
As my regular readers might remember Poul, my husband, likes to buy underwear for me. Normally he will not buy my a bra as he wants me to go without, but he also realizes that my breasts are getting a bit looser and as such wobble a bit too much for comport or decency when worn under lose evening dresses.
Instead he had produced in the Santa stockings a very nice set of half bra and crotchless tights. The half bra was black lace supporting the breasts to just under the nipples, lifting them up so they strutted out really prominently. The tights were the same lace, but totally open at the crotch leaving front and back totally exposed. Seeing we were going to be alone I accepted wearing that under my black dress, even though the top of the dress easily opened enough to expose the breasts and the split up the front on the dress only stopped a hand’s width from the open part.
Poul loved the way I looked, and took several pictures of me with the dress opening up exposing me both when preparing the dinner and as we ate in the candlelight. We both got quite drunk and not a little horny, planning to slip early to bed after the bells for some much needed sex.
However, just before midnight all the friends from the other party arrived at our house. The hosts had heard about us, and felt sorry for us not being invited. They had tried to call us, but our phones were on silent, so instead they had all piled into a couple of taxis, brought bags of booze, cakes, mixers etc. and a good portion of high and drunken spirit.
Probably about 2 AM I found myself at the table nibbling to the bids of food that were left over, joining into a discussion on sexy underwear. Generally the feeling was that New Year and company Christmas Parties were the place to air such garments. I did express agreement – how could I not, seeing what I was wearing. When confronted with a direct question I had to admit I had regularly gone to parties with no underwear. A couple of the other girls also admitted to this, and the guys were getting rather direct and lewd as the discussion progressed.
At one point I felt a tab on my shoulder, and Jens who sat right next to me asked,
“Is this conversation getting you excited”?
Now Jens is a very nice guy. A good deal older than me, probably late fifties, somewhat overweight and diabetic, and in my books not really one of the usual sex hungry guys milling around me at parties. So I was actually a bit surprised with his direct question.
“I guess I have to admit that”, I said, “but why do you ask”?
“Because I can see right down your dress and your nipples got harder as we talked”, he whispered in my ear.
The usual girl reaction was to immediately put a hand on the front of the dress pressing it in to your body so it didn’t hang lose exposing you. That was exactly what I involuntarily did.
“Don’t”, he whispered as he moved my hand away. The dress dropped open again, and I knew he could again look straight at my exposed and, I could feel, now even harder nipples.
When these things happen I go all soft in the knees, my belly does a funny flop and I start getting wet between the legs. Knowing that a guy is looking at me, and I just sit there letting it happen really gets me going.
The conversation was droning in the background as I felt strangely detached, only being able to concentrate on his gaze down my front. When his hand touched my leg and in one swift but hardly noticeable move reached my inner thigh, I gasped, but didn’t stop him. I seemed like he just lingered there for a second to test my reaction, and as he found none he continued all the way up, hitting the exposed skin, the outer labia to quickly and efficiently land right at my clit. I jumped a little and came to my senses.
“Jens, No. Can’t do that here, you naughty boy,” I whispered as I as unnoticeable as possible tried to pry away his hand. But as I lent over towards him to whisper this in his ear, his fingers dug into me. The feeling was so great, I didn’t want to stop him. But I guess he understood that perhaps this was really not the best time or place, because he moved his hand away. I kept looking at him, as he took his glass and moved it to his lips, but in the process managed to put his fingers that has just been inside me into his mouth, licking them, tasting my juices.
“I guess this has got you excited then”, he said in a low voice.
“I am sorry”, I said, not really knowing what it was I was sorry about, but I felt I ought to feel bad about it in one way or another.
“Don’t be sorry. I think it is so lovely when a woman exposes herself like that. Not only exposes part of the body, but also exposes her desires. I am just sorry I can’t any longer take properly part in the act. The diabetes has hit my libido; I can’t seem to get it up these days, not even with the help of Viagra or the likes. But I still love to see women letting go as you just did”.
“I don’t know what went into me there. I should normally have stopped you much earlier”, I said to him.
“Well, what went into you was a need for some attention of the right kind. Perhaps I can offer that at some time”?
I didn’t quite know what he had in mind, so I just politely hummed an acknowledgement. I guess perhaps I did need some attention.
About 20 minutes later, I was coming down the back stairs when I bumped into him again. It was quite dark, with only a couple of candles lighting up the stairways. The back stairs are kind of narrow and steep, so the way down was completely blocked by his larger than normal corpus. I guess he had perhaps come to look for me, heard me come down and just waited for me.
Being alone with him now I felt very conscious of our previous encounter. I didn’t know what to say, and as I stood there I started to feel the excitement grow again. I don’t know what attention he had in mind, but suddenly I didn’t mind finding out.
The way we stood on the steep stairs his head was below my shoulders. I put a hand on his shoulder, maybe subconsciously relaxing and giving him the go ahead. He certainly took it like that. He moved his hands up to my dress front, separated the two sides and pulled them down over my shoulders exposing my breasts. As the colder air hit the nipples they exploded, I shuddered and felt the same whoosh, getting wet and not caring what happened. His fingers found the nipples, squeezed them and rolled them between his fingers. Then he put one in his mouth, sucked it so I started to moan.
What I found so nice about this experience that I wanted to write about it, was the fact that I knew he didn’t have any mutual sex in mind. He was really bent on satisfying me, knowing how aroused I was. That meant I could totally let go and let him concentrate on giving me some “attention”.
I bent over a bit, my mouth close to his ear.
“I think I could do with some of that attention now”, I whispered.
He didn’t reply, but I felt his hand sliding up my leg, again finding the clit in one smooth move. I gasped and leant against him.
“No, move back,” he said. “I want to be able to watch those incredible tits of yours”.
And I wanted him to see me. I put my arms around my back and undid the bra, slipping it over my arms. I could hear his breathing get heavy.
“Oh Jen”, he gasped. “That is so beautiful. Just because I can’t get it up, doesn’t mean I can’t get aroused. I have been dreaming so many dirty dreams about you, but never for a second thought I would get to be with you in this way”.
He had put two fingers into me, rubbing hard at my g-point while the palm of his hand was working my clit. He was rough, hard and fast. In my excited state I would come quickly. Soon I felt the first warm small contractions, making it impossible to stand still. I was writhing in his arms. As I could feel the orgasm approaching I closed my eyes, and leant against him, clinging to his head, pressing it against my naked breasts.
“No”, he said. “Move back, I want to look at you. Don’t close your eyes. Keep looking at me as you come. I want to see the expression in your eyes as you climax”.
With the exhibitionistic sensation of a guy openly watching you climax under his administrations, I reached the explosion in less than 10 seconds. I looked at him throughout the initial spasms, as I started to loose control. I was shaking violently afraid to fall, but he had an arm around my back, the other inside me. There was no risk of me falling so I could just let go. My whole body convulsed in one of the strongest orgasms I had had in a long time. When I stopped shaking, our eyes finally broke contact. I can’t remember any guy looking so intensely at me through an orgasm. That was so arousing. Even now thinking back, I am experiencing the thrill of his eyes on me.
We didn’t say anything. He gave my breasts a small caress, kissed the nipples, like saying goodbye to them, helped me find the bra and made sure the dress was on properly before helping me down the remaining steps. Only then could I speak.
“Thank you. I really needed that. You did that so well”! I said to him.
“No it is me thanking you for letting me do it. I will never forget the look in your eyes as you came. The knowledge that you let me do that, while I was watching you, is just incredible”, he said as he gave my bum a loving pat and let me walk ahead of him so it didn’t look like we entered the living room at the same time.
Poul and I have an agreement that we tell each other about any encounters. In that way at least we don’t have to have a bad conscience about lying to each other. Also we find that talking about the experiences we have arouses the other part. For some reason this situation really turned on Poul. I guess the idea of his wife being exposed like that to Jens, a very old and dear friend of his, was new to him. So the night ended with me having a real hard dick inside me anyway.
Hope you all had some good experiences as well on your New Year evening party.
Jenifer
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