Tag Archives: EXHIBITIONIST

DAMN SEX INJURIES

I love sex. Something I love more than sex is masturbating. I love the time when I can connect with my body and bring myself pleasure. Even if I find myself in a loving relationship with a partner that dicks me down every single night, the honest truth is that, before I go to sleep, I need to orgasm on my own. Sometimes, I would masturbate in the morning; other times, I would masturbate when I got home after work, but the most convenient time for me to masturbate would be in my bed at night.   

For a good couple of years, masturbation was my nightly sleeping pill. After my shower, I would lay down in my bed, grab my phone, and google whatever porn interested me (mostly Gangbang). I would power up my vibrator and ride the wave to reach my orgasm. With heavy panting, leg spasms, and an increased heartbeat, I would silently climax then pass out. That was my nightly routine for years. Then, one day I heard about the Womanizer. I heard about the sucking-pulse mechanism, and that it would deliver an orgasm I’d never experience before, and I simply had to have it. During a visit to Babeland, I finally made my purchase. When I got home, I charged it up; and after my shower, I laid down and placed the opening on my clit. The orgasm I had was more powerful than anything I could have imagined. The power of the Womanizer was so good that I didn’t even need to use porn.  

Over the next few months, I enjoyed many orgasms with my Womanizer. Then, one night, I went for a second round. My clit was already highly sensitive, but I was determined to push my boundaries. Gingerly, I placed the opening back onto my clitoris, I started it on a low setting, then increased it slowly. My breasts rose and fell rapidly to match my breathing, a tingling started at my toes and generated throughout my body; when I finally reached my second orgasm of the night, with a stifled moan, I squirted all over my sheets. I took a moment to regain my composure, got a blow dryer, dried my sheets, and then went back to sleep.   

As much as I loved the comfort of my bed, having to dry my sheets every night became a mood killer. Luckily, the Womanizer was waterproof, so the next night, I took her into the shower. With my back against the wall, the hot water rolling over my breasts, and my left foot propped up on the edge of the tub, I allowed the sucking sensations of my Womanizer to deliver me an orgasm, then another accompanied with a vicious squirt. In my bed, I never wanted to make a mess; however, in the shower, I was able to let it all go. A nightly shower orgasm had become my routine. Multiple times, I came so hard that my stomach cramped. I was masturbating so much, I worried that my clit would fall off, but there was an injury brewing that took me by total surprise.   

I purchased my Womanizer around June, I started masturbating in the shower in September. At the beginning of October, I noticed a shooting pain in my foot when I would wake up in the morning and after long walks. Every morning, I tried to alleviate the tension on my foot by rolling it on a stress-ball and performing a round of foot exercises; but none of them worked. Because I’m a runner, pain is nothing new for me. From random back pains, butt pains, and foot pains, I’ve encountered them all, but eventually, they all subside. However, this new pain, that was isolated in my left foot, that had no apparent reason for being caught me totally off guard. Then, one night, while I was putting lotion on my leg, I had my left foot resting on my desk chair; when I slightly arched my foot, the pain was instantaneous. Like a lightbulb, it became clear to me where my pain was coming from. I remembered that every time I orgasmed in the shower, I would crouch down during my orgasm, putting irregular stress on my arch. I was finally at ease to know where my pain was coming from, but I worried about my future orgasm routine. What would be the best angle to keep my shower orgasm routine going?   

The next night, I went into the shower and tried a new position. Instead of propping my foot up, I turned towards the wall, allowing the water to cascade on my back. I slightly parted my legs, positioned my clit into the opening, and started the Womanizer. At first, it was a weird angle, then I played a fantasy in my mind. I thought back to my first time at a sex-club (Caligula). And I remembered the big shower they had on the upper level. I imagined myself with the shower on, naked, and masturbating while all the other patrons looked on. Being the sexual center of attraction, on full display for all to see and not touch, aroused me to another level. The fantasy drove me to an orgasm that poured out from my body. I finished my shower then went to sleep. 

Every few nights, I rotate positions, from standing to squatting, to sitting on the edge of the tub, to occasionally kneeling. Thankfully, each and every position still delivers me the same fantastic orgasm I had become accustomed to, minus the pain in my foot. 

SOCIAL DISTANCING FAIL (The COVID Chronicles Part 1)

It was official; states across America were locking down to avoid the global pandemic of COVID-19 (the Corona Virus) from devastating their towns. Luckily, my boss had sent us home early on Tuesday. Like everyone else, I, too, was glued to the news on Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday morning, with the news confirming that this virus was a long way from being over, I remembered I had masks and Lysol at my office. (I had a co-worker that was always sick. One day I got fed up with her germs, so I went onto Amazon.com; I purchased 100 masks, three cans of Lysol, and a big jar of hand sanitizer. She wasn’t sick for the next month. Then COVID 19 came through with a vengeance. I threw on some leggings, a hoodie, my mask, gloves, and headed to the train. I decided to take the Q train because I knew it would be the quickest and possibly the emptiest train— I just had no idea how empty.   

I made it onto the train just before the car doors closed. Unfortunately, I bumped into a guy that was standing in the doorway; he was tall with a lean body. I apologized a few times, and he replied, with a sexy voice, “No problem, beautiful.” Was he flirting during a pandemic? I could feel his eyes tracing the curves of my legs, but I figured he wouldn’t approach me. We locked eyes, and when I saw the shape of his mask wrinkle, I knew I wasn’t alone in my attraction. After 86th Street, the train came to a slow stop, and the announcer said, “This train is being held due to a sick passenger on the train ahead. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Knowing it was going to be a longer ride than expected, I decided to sit. I turned on my R&B 90s playlist and closed my eyes.  

A tap awakened me; I opened my eyes to see the guy standing over me. 

“I just had to tell you, your body looks amazing in those leggings.” 

“Thank you,” I replied. 

“Your scent is very intoxicating, as well.” 

I couldn’t see myself, but I was sure my cheeks were turning red. “Is that so?” I flirted back. 

“Yes. Coming across a woman with such an intoxicating scent is a turn-on. Can you see what it’s doing to me?”  

I was so busy staring into his deep dark eyes, and being aroused by his full lips, that I didn’t realize his pants were getting tighter.  

“Do you smell like that everywhere?” He asked.  

Thinking what my answer would be, I could feel my body heat beginning to rise. 

“I’ve never had any complaints,” I replied. He smiled in response. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to find out.” 

He extended his gloved hand to me and raised me from my seat. Towering over me, he bent over and inhaled at my neck; his facial hair tickled me in the process. His body moved closer to mine, and I could feel his dick pressing against my stomach. He inhaled down the length of my body. When he arrived at my pussy, he used his left hand to caress my ass; then he bent my leg to lift it onto the seat. He lowered down and buried his nose deep into my crotch. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Maybe it was the pandemic or the fact that I was horny and finally about to live out a fantasy. All I knew was if the world was coming to an end, I might as well enjoy the ride. When he came up, the smile on his face was pure sex.  

He asked, ”May I?” then I slid down my pants.  

He hoisted me up onto his shoulders and, for dear life, I held on to the overhead bar. With my leggings pulled down to my knees, he slipped his head in between my pants and began to devour my pussy. All my push-ups had come in handy because a month ago I could barely do a pull-up. Although it was a struggle, I was able to hold myself up as he licked and sucked my clit to a trembling orgasm. When he lowered me back to the floor, I saw that his dick was rock hard. I pushed him against the car door. I removed my gloves and grabbed his dick from his pants. His dick was nothing short of fantastic. I squatted down, licked my lips, and moved in for the kill. I inched my way down the length of his dick and cupped his balls in my hand. He placed his hand behind my head and pushed my mouth farther down the length of his dick, and with every motion, my pussy grew wetter. Between the sounds of my slurping he yelled, “Fuck” and “Shit”. Inside I knew, I was probably giving him some of the best head he had in his life. 

“God! I wish I could bend you over and fuck you right now!” He said 

I pulled his dick from my mouth, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

He removed his gloves, pulled me up, then groped my ass as he bit at my neck. He bent down to lick at my wet pussy; then he bent me over. I could see our reflections in the window as he slid his dick into me. The welcomed pressure of his dick entering my pussy forced me to close my eyes and savor the moment. I lowered my head like a rag-doll as he took control of my body; with every thrust, my head jerked up and down. He whispered for me to put my mask on, which I did, then he told me to look up. I looked into the glass and his eyes. As his thrusts started to slow down and get deeper, my moans got longer. He would completely exit my pussy to admire the gaping hole he left, then ram it back in, to make me scream in ecstasy. The train had started to move, and he began to pick up his pace. He reached one hand around my neck, and the other gripped my hoodie, and he proceeded to pound into me. In the race for him to have his orgasm, I had become his sexual rag doll. He thrust into me over and over; then I heard him scream, “I’m gonna cum!” With a few more thrusts, he walked back and emptied his dick on the floor. I looked at the reflection of a total stranger in the window and said to myself —What the Fuck! I could tell he was thinking the same. 

I pulled up my pants and eased my body into a seated position. He put his dick back into his pants and sat back down to catch his breath. With the train entering the 72nd street station, we stared each other down. Before the doors opened, all he could get out was, “Damn! You got some good pussy!” I smiled and said, “So I’ve been told.” He chuckled. When the doors opened, he got up and exited the train, keeping his eyes on me as he left. When the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station, I put my headphones back in and closed my eyes. 

I jolted awake when I heard the announcement and felt the wind from the open door at 42nd street. I jumped up and ran off the train just as the doors closed behind me. Walking up the stairs, my body felt weak and my pussy was moist. I asked myself, “Did I just fuck a total stranger on the train, or did I dream it?” 

Maybe this hoe life isn’t for me…

In January, 2019, I finally stopped beating around the bush and went public about, not only, my herpes status and polyamory; I also openly questioned my bisexuality. I spoke about the difficulty I had finding women that wanted to be intimate with me; and my struggle finding casual sex with women. I figured the only way to confirm if I was truly bisexual (enjoyed eating pussy) was to venture into a sex-club.  

What I didn’t expect was, while eating random woman’s pussy at the first sex-club; I also realized that I really-really loved being an exhibitionist; just as much as I enjoyed having, and watching people having sex. I would enter the room, shy on the outside, yet burning up on the inside. However, once I started engaging, all inhibitions left the room. With one random-hand squeezing my ass, another caressing my leg, random mouth licking my freshly pedicured toes, another sucking at my pierced nipple; add to that, the room filled with eyes on me; I was elevated to a level of sexual nirvana that I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager.  

After that, each party I attended, was for the sheer joy of pure surprise-induced satisfaction.  

I used to dream of; entering a huge loft where every person would enter from a separate door, all wearing masks. There would be no talking, only action. After a few hours of pleasure, each person would walk back to the room they came from and no one would ever know the identity of the other person. Masks and anonymity, mixed with the cocktail of sexual aura was a recipe for great orgasms this fantasy.  

However, in real life; sex-parties, sex-clubs, and (in my case) just sex in general; turned out to be the recipe for repeated trips to the GYN.  

After I lost my virginity, I made the GYN my best friend. Because I was highly sexually active, (and not always the most careful); during my teenage and adolescent years, I got pretty comfortable waiting, and having my vagina examined. Quite a few times, I knew what my ailment was going in, and would leave with a prescription that would have be back in tip-top shape after a week. None the less, getting examined, swabbed, and blood drawn was a very natural thing for me. I was very sexually active, so I tested often in between partners.  

One day, in 2008, after a night of less than eventful sex, (so much so that I had to call someone else over to fuck the memory of the previous guy out of my mind); my vagina felt less than perfect. Naturally, I went to the GYN and she told me it was BV (Bacterial Vaginosis); something I had never heard of and she described as an STD. I was, not only, pissed and uncomfortable; I was extremely confused. By this time, I was WA-CONDOM-FOREVER, so how could I have gotten and STD? All she could do was give me the prescription and send me on my way. I notified both my partners so they could get treated. After the antibiotics to treat the BV, I had to take a round of treatment for the yeast infection that the treatment for BV caused. After a little over two weeks, I was back to normal. It wasn’t until month’s later that I had a new GYN and she informed me that BV was not actually an STD, but an overgrowth of bacteria in the vagina (similar to a yeast infection); and that made more sense. Armed with that knowledge, I continued to use condoms, stopped using scented soaps, and was confident I would live happily ever after…  

I fucking wish.  

Once I got my first BV diagnosis, the son-of-a-bitch kept coming back. Every few months I would get a weird sensation, that would cause me to go to the doctor and every time it would return BV.  

Change of soap = BV 

Stayed too long in sweaty workout clothes = BV 

Toilet water splash back from poop = BV 

Occasional long session of rough sex = BV 

It was a repeat-offending disaster. 

It wasn’t until years later that, there appeared to be sunshine just beyond the horizon.  

In 2019, after my 8-month sex-break, I was confident that my vagina had reset itself. During that time, I learned some new tools to alleviate friction and I kept condoms on stand-by, just in case. So, after my 8-month sex drought, I was eager to walk into the sex-club. Armed with lube, condoms, and vibrator in my bag; I dived in. And, a few days later, I was in the doctor’s office, again.  

All treated, a month later, I met my first polyamorous partner and we started having amazing sex. He loved playing with my ass and probably had a digit slip every once in a while, once again. Every time he did – I had to go back to the doctor’s office.  

Treated again, a few months later, I went to my first all-black swingers party, followed by a day of sex, with an already sore pussy. And once again, I went to the doctor. 

I was really beginning to think, maybe this hoe-life wasn’t for me…  

It made no sense to me that, after every time I had a night of amazing (sometimes rough) sex, I would have to report to the doctor, days later. I once attended a party where the girl was literally filled with a dick the entire night. At parties, I would see all the other women taking dick after dick and I just knew they would be fine in the morning. It wasn’t fair! Not to mention $60 every visit, plus the price for the medication started to add up.  

To my surprise however, it turned out that, last time all my results came back negative. It appeared that, my vagina was not used to so much pounding. It was a crazy night after all. 

After a few more run-ins, my GYN, after seeing me for, what seemed, the 2000th time, decided to run a different test. She decided to check the bacteria in my vagina, as by BV was extremely recurrent.  

My results came back positive for high levels of ureplasma.  

Now, ureplasma naturally occurs in the body (hence why it’s considered a bacterial infection, and NOT An STI); however, the bacteria can also be passed to you via sexual contact. A-fucking-HA! That finally explained why once I got BV, it kept happening. It was all due to the rise in ureplasma in my vagina.  

She ordered me a prescription, along with advising me to take daily probiotics; to further promote the growth of healthy bacteria.  

After years of repeat occurrences, I finally had an answer; and due to her detective work, I finally had a cure.  

With that, in the closing of 2019, I was finally back to having the sex and the experiences I always wanted. I was not ready to hang up my sex-party robe just yet; and I was elated that I didn’t have to.