Time For a Mind Fuck

****Warning Adult Material****

I’m obsessed with my pussy after I shave it smooth. I love the way it feels, the way it smells, hell even the way it taste is wonderful to my senses. Problem is I want to play with it all the time. I think about touching it while I’m walking through the store and I see some guy that looks like he would be fun to fuck. When I’m driving down the road and I hear a sexy song on the radio, I want to touch myself. Again I guess there’s nothing abnormal about that, unless you’re sneaking off into a public bathroom just so you can touch yourself.

I’ve never understood why it was expectable, healthy thing for a man to masturbate, but it was forbidden talk for a woman to even discuss such a topic when I was younger. There were so many things I had to learn on my own.

Then there’s porn. Most believe it’s not natural for a woman to want to watch porn. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with watching porn, as long as everyone participating is over 18 and agreeing to what is taking place, porn can be very arousing. Sometimes a little too arousing.
I’ve been avoiding my other sites that just post information that has already been posted somewhere else on the web, and instead I’ve been trying to focus on writing more... Mostly some new sex stories. In order to get some fresh new ideas, I sometimes surf around to a few porn sites and watch various videos. I’ve been doing most of the ‘research’ in the evening when my older son is gone to work, and I’m alone for the night. I have one or two sites that I visit when I’m in the mood, but I will occasionally surf around and find a new site to visit.

Today I found a new site, and decided to spend a little time viewing the ‘mostly normal’ porn. Before I realized it, it was almost time to pick up my son from work. I quickly jumped into my car and drove towards his job. I’m just about to pull up, when I look at the time and realize that the clock on my computer was off again, and I still had almost 15 minutes before it was time to pick him up. Not wanting to sit around, I decided to go to the park near his job at Wal-Mart.

I drove to the back of the park, and found a place under some to trees to hide in the darkness. I felt safe enough there, but still I rolled up all the windows and locked the doors. I then put in a Prince CD and began listening to the song Cream. I immediately began thinking back to the videos that I had just watched. Flashes of hard dick being rapidly slammed into a woman’s pussy, flashed through my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I began to feel that all to familiar tingle beginning to stir deep in my lower stomach. I had never masturbated at the park, but the thought began seeping into the dark corners of my mind. It was shift change for law enforcement, so I figured I would be safe for a few minutes alone, and if anyone did come, I would be able to see their car lights before they had a chance to get close to me.

I left my car running, but turned out all the lights, and then I lowered the back of my seat to where it almost laid flat. I then spread my legs and put my right foot on the dashboard. This gave me plenty of room to reach down the front of my pants and cupped my freshly shaven cunt. I was still moist from watching the porn videos, so it was easy to lubricate my clit. I began twitching it back and forth between my fingers, making its little head swell. I slowly increased the pressure and stroked my clit up and down, pulling out my sweet juice from my hole.

I stopped a couple times when I had to look up to see if there were any cars coming. I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what I was doing. I wanted it to be my little private dirty secret.

I continued listening to Prince as the song Darling Nicki began to play. I closed my eyes and went with the rhythm as I slowly worked my fingers up and down the sides of my clit. I was getting so close, but kept pausing to look up and see if any cars were coming, or if some stranger was staring in the window at me.

I looked down at the time and noticed I only had a couple minutes until it was time to pick up my son, and I hadn’t gotten off yet. At first I thought about stopping, but then I had this feeling that I was being watched, and something about that, made me speed up my stoking. Within in 30 seconds, I felt the swelling of my clit increase, and I began pumping out short little burst of cum. It continued pulsing from inside my hole, as I brushed my clit back and forth lightly.

Finally, I took a deep breathe and removed my hand from my soaked cunt. I couldn’t believe how much I had gotten off. I put my fingers one by one in my mouth and licked the cum from my fingertips. The racing of my heart slowed as I sat the seat back to its upright position. I quickly put my car in gear and left the park knowing I had yet another dirty little secret.

My game has continued for a over a week now, and each time I enjoy the thrill of what I’m doing a little more. I seem to be addicted to the possibility of some stranger lurking in the woods waiting to sneak up on me and catch me in the middle of my sex act. Now, I’m beginning to rethink this ‘thought’ after a close call a couple nights ago. I had just finished getting off and had begun to leave the park. Just as I was about to drive out, a police officer began pulling into the park. I almost froze.

He drove past me as I pulled over to another area so I could put my seatbelt on. I then expeditiously re-adjusted the seat and drove away, leaving him in the park wondering what I was doing. It also left me wondering what he was doing in the park at almost 11pm, especially since it was shift change. Have they figured out that criminals know when their shift changes and that is when some choose to break the law?

My thoughts turned to him coming up behind me and turning his lights on. I didn’t need another charge. I began wondering if he did stop me, would be able to smell the sex on my hand, even though once again I had licked my fingers afterwards? Would I then have to register as a sex offender if caught by law enforcement? The thought scares the hell out of me, but the thought is also what sent me right back to the park again tonight.

hehe...damn I'm a nasty motherfucker...lol
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Adrenaline Rush--Make Me Feel Alive

I’m neither wicked nor cruel, but I hunger for the unexpected. Racing does not interest me, yet I attend it often, hoping to see a huge pile up of cars. Or see one crash, sending flames high into the air. I also go to bullfights to see if perhaps one of the bulls might go wild and mangle or gore those who are trying to kill it. But its calculated bloodshed was mundane, too controlled to really enjoy. Meaningless suffering revolts me; I crave the thrill of a sudden catastrophe.

Ten years after waiting, I finally got to see a huge pile up of cars that caused a huge explosion. Several drivers were injury, but nothing very serious. Soon afterwards, I saw a matador gored repeatedly, and then throw 50 feet through the air. Afterwards I fell in a deep depression and lost interest in watching cars race and matadors killing bulls.

One morning I saw a poster of a cyclist who was planning on riding down a slanted track, and then go through a circular loop that plummeted straight down. The newspapers ran the story explaining that the cyclist intended to ride down the dangerous route in front of a live audience.

“When I reach the loop," he told reporters, “you’ll actually see me round it upside down!” The press was invited to inspect the track and the bicycle.

“I use no mechanical trickery, or wires,” the daredevil bragged, “nothing but precise scientific calculation. That and my ability to keep up my nerve.”

When I read the article, my good spirits returned. I immediately went to buy a ticket. I did not want my attention distracted when the rider looped the loop, so I purchased an entire box of seats opposite the track and sat alone on opening night. After a suspenseful wait, the cyclist appeared high above the audience at the top of the track. A moment of tense anticipation, then down he went. As promised, he circled the loop with head underneath and feet in the air--and then it was all over.

The performance certainly thrilled me, but as I exited with the crowd, I knew I might experience the same intense sensation once or twice more and then, as always the feeling would die. Still...bicycles break, road surfaces wear out...and no man’s nerve hold out forever. Sooner or later, there must be an accident.

The cyclist was scheduled to perform for the next three months and then move onto another town. I decided to go to every single performance, even if I had to follow the show to the next town. I bought the same row of seats for the entire time he was to be in my town, and sat in the same seat night after night.

One evening two months later, the performance had just ended and I was on my way out when I noticed the cyclist in one of the corridors of the auditorium. I walked up to him, but before I could utter a word, the cyclist stuck out his hand to greet me.

“I know you. You come to my show every night.”

“That’s true. Your remarkable feat fascinated me, but who told you I’m always here?”

“No one,” the rider smiled. “I see you myself.”

“But how can you, being up so high? At such a moment, are you actually able to study the audience?”

The cyclist laughed. “No. It would be dangerous for me to look at a crowd shifting and moving around. But there is something I do which the public is unaware of.” The cyclist wink. “This will be our little secret, okay? When I mount my bicycle and grasp the handlebars, I never worry about my own strength and coordination, but the total concentration the ride demands concerns me. It’s almost impossible for me to empty my mind of all but one idea. My greatest danger is that my eyes may stray. So, here’s my trick -- I find one spot in the auditorium and focus all my attention on it. The first time I rode in the hall, I spied you in your box and chose you as my spot. The next evening, there you were again.”

The next night I sat in my customary seat. The usual excitement filled in around my row of seats. A hush fell when the rider made his entrance, a black speck far overhead. Two men held his bicycle. The cyclist gripped the handlebars, stared out over the heads of the crowd and shouted the signal. The men gave the bike a shove.

At that instant, I rose and walked over to a different seat. The audience screamed as the cycle and rider shot off the track and plunged into the middle of the crowd. Smiling, I put on my jacket, and walked away.