Confessions of a Public Masturbatrix (Part 2)

Confessions of a Public Masturbatrix (Part 2)My first outdoor experience had been scary but exciting. Like a lot of my favourite sexual things, I didn't immediately realise just how much of a turn-on it was for me, not until my subconscious started letting me know. I've always been one to follow my fantasies where they lead me - often I'll start out thinking of a particular scene or person or exploring a particular idea, then by the end I've switched to something completely different and unexpected. In hindsight, that should've been a strong hint to me that my early crushes on girls weren't just Platonic admiration - even when I tried to think about boys as I masturbated, it would always be a girl's name I ended up whispering in those last desperate few seconds before orgasm.That's how it was in the weeks after the family holiday. Time and time again when I masturbated my mind would go back to doing it outside on that hot sunny afternoon. I'd remember the warmth of the sun on my skin, the roughness of the rock against my back, the sound of birds in the trees around me as I tugged my swimsuit aside and played, and in no time my pussy would feel hot and wet under my fingers as I rode the wave of pleasure to climax. In my calmer moments I'd thought a lot about how it could've ended in crushing embarrassment or worse if someone had caught me, but in the heat of playtime I began to realise just how exciting the danger had made it. My mind started to toy with the idea, imagining another girl or an older woman catching me in the act, and of course in my fantasies she'd always watch and join in.Compared to what I think about as an adult those fantasies seem tame, but at the time they were exciting uncharted territory for me. As much as I loved masturbating and took some pretty crazy risks doing it with the family in the house, the prospect of actually getting caught had always terrified me - it was bad enough the couple of times my sister had barged into my room without knocking, and I'd had to blushingly act as though there was a perfectly innocent explanation for diving under the covers in the middle of the day...I began to imagine doing it in more and more risky situations, and the more I let my imagination run wild the hotter the fantasies became. It wasn't just when I was home in bed - at school or out in town I'd think of secret spots where I could reach under my skirt and rub my little pussy without anyone realising.Inevitably the fantasy became too enticing to resist, although when I first made it reality it was (I realise now) in about the most clichéd way possible. I'd often sit bored in class, letting my mind wander to naughty little daydreams about the girls around me, and some days for my sins I'd feel my pussy oozing wetness into my knickers as I tried to sit there acting normal. Days like that I couldn't wait to get home and "change out of my uniform" (a great excuse to ensure nobody walked in on me). Sometimes I didn't even undress, the moment my door was safely closed I'd flop down on my bed, skirt up and undies down, rubbing my clit with all the pent-up lust of a long afternoon fantasising.One rainy afternoon (it's funny the details you remember years later) I must've been feeling especially horny, or maybe class felt especially boring. I asked to be excused to use the toilet, and as soon as I'd discretely checked the other cubicles were empty I shut myself in the one furtherest from the door, hitched up my skirt, and pulled my knickers down round my ankles. I know that any xHamster regular has seen this scene in countless videos, but to my naive teenage self it was a revelation. I could masturbate at school!I almost think that realisation was more exciting than my fingers slipping in between my wet lips and finding my sensitive little clit. The sheer naughtiness of what I was doing was intoxicating, even more than playing outdoors on holiday. I remember biting my lip as I came, and just as well because seconds later I heard the door to the corridor open and a girl come in. The afterglow of my secretive orgasm was replaced by a sudden irrational panic that she'd heard me, and I hurriedly cleaned myself up so I could wash my hands and get out before we crossed paths.Walking back into class I felt like what I'd done was written all over my face, but once I calmed down I had to force myself not to grin like an idiot. It was almost like how I'd felt lying spent on the pillow after my very first orgasm - this was a whole new world of possibility! I did it again the next day, this time without anyone interrupting, and if I hadn't been glowing the first time I returned to class I'm sure I was then. The only thing stopping me, I soon realised, was not wanting my classmates or teachers to think I had some sort of bladder problem As I did it more I realised that the thrill of getting away with it was almost as good as the breathless lip-biting orgasms. I felt a similar thrill every time I masturbated at home with the family in the other room, but this was taking it to the next level. It was like the adrenalin made cumming even more intense, and I'd have to force myself not to keep going because I knew if I let myself have a second one I'd never want to stop.Still there were only so many times a week I could do it at school, and like any risky thrill I found myself craving more. The next risk I remember taking was so obvious in hindsight I don't know why I hadn't done it earlier. Our back yard was well fenced, but the neighbours could see into one half of it. The other half was completely private though - a fact I took advantage of whenever I sunbathed in my bikini - so one day when the family were out I locked the front door, walked out to the yard, and proceeded to strip naked in the sunshine. Again it seems such a small step when I look back as an adult, but the fact I remember it so clearly twenty years later shows how exciting it was to me then. I remember lying on the soft grass of the back lawn, playing with my nipples and clit and cumming over and over again looking up at the sky. How could life get any better?The answer, of course, was to take even more risks. One weekend out shopping with friends I masturbated in the mall toilets, silently rubbing my pussy as people came and went outside. I tried a few times in clothes store changing rooms, but I remember losing my nerve or the sales staff calling through the door to check I was okay (I'm sure they figure if a teenager takes too long she's trying to shoplift). But perversely the sheer stupid risk of doing it drove me on, and I was determined to "cross that one off the list." Finally one day I was trying on a daringly short little dress and I couldn't resist. I felt so sexy in it as I turned and twirled in front of the changing room mirror, then just for fun I slipped my knickers off so I could imagine myself going out in public like that. Seeing glimpses of my pussy under the dress brought out the mischief in me, and before I knew it my hand was under the dress and my fingers were covered in hot pussy juice. Magic.I'd had some close calls but thankfully I'd never been caught. I finished high school and decided to take a year off to work and earn some money before uni, but at the end of that year I found out I was pregnant (I'd like to claim Immaculate Conception, but there really was nothing immaculate about it). After I got over the shock and the morning sickness I actually quite enjoyed the middle months - the stereotype of pregnancy making you horny might not be true for all women, but it certainly was for me...By the end of it though I was just too exhausted to do anything, then after my daughter was born and I got my sexual appetite back I didn't have the freedom to play around in public. My public escapades might have receded into a happy horny memory of a teenage phase, but then when I was 20 I met Rita. Things were about to get interesting.