My Sexual Autobiography - Part XVII - Masturbation At Mall
It started with a dare challenge. I am always corresponding via email and chatting with my best friend Angelina in Goa. The readers must be aware that she is my sex guru and we both have played many lesbian sex games between us since I had my first sex which was lesbian with her when I was 14 and she was 15. Still, whenever I go to Goa, I make it sure to meet Angelina and we create an opportunity to play with each other’s nude body. Though, as you all are aware, I am not a lesbian but I always enjoy this sex game with her. She is having a very special status in my life. Once, when we were chatting on net, the subject turned to dare in sex. She knows it very well that I always love adventure in sex. I did it many a times between public without being noticed by any one. So she talked me into the dare game. If I gave her something to do, as a dare, she seemed able to follow through. In this way she challenged me to do self masturbation in ladies wash room at any big mall. I did not think much on this challenge and have accepted it immediately. She knows that I do not lie and will tell her the truth only whether I have completed the task or not. We kept discussing the different things on net and finally on one day, I told her that it is all set for the challenging task. I told her that I am going to the mall next day and try to complete the task. She was very happy to know this. I decided to do it in the largest Mall in town, one surrounded by parking lots that allow you to park quite close and walk inside through any handy store. Inside it was multi-level, with stores arranged on all levels opening onto a central atrium section. Stairs and escalators were placed at each end and the middle, with one set of elevators for those who needed them. As per my programmed, next day in after noon, after lunch when my husband went back to his office, I made my move towards the mall in my car. I parked my car at one end, by one of the anchor stores. I slipped out of the car, smoothed my skirt and headed for the doors. My adventure was about to begin. I had prepared carefully. I wore a white and pink summer frock, a sun dress, demur but revealing covering me from my breasts to my hips. The skirt hung loose and easy from there, in pleats, to just above my knees. The dress showed off my bare shoulders and arms, and much of my bare legs. The skirt was very feminine, swishing lightly around my thighs as I walked. I wore white backless sandals and matching jewelry: earrings and assorted bracelets, and carried a small white straw purse. I felt cool and collected as I strode across the blacktop, my hair falling loosely in soft curls to spill over my shoulders and tickle the tops of my breasts and my back. That feeling of calm was to be short lived, as it turned out. Once inside the air conditioned Mall, I found the air considerably cooler, and I felt my nipples pop in response to the sudden chill. But the soft bosom material hid their condition from view. I was fully aware of them, however, as my breasts moved around within the gentle confines of the dress and rubbed my nipples incessantly against the soft cloth. Such sweet torture. I walked around the second level until I reached the restroom of my choice. The women inside reflected the variety all over the mall: middle aged to matronly women, and teenagers. The former typically wore Bermuda shorts, slacks, or casual skirts. The latter, the young girls, wore low-rider jeans or short-shorts, cut-off sleeveless T’s, or halters. Lots of bare legs and midriffs on display. And a ton of cheap jewelry clanking and clinking. And to top it all off, pardon the pun, hair of all colors, none of it, it seemed, natural. Plenty of blue, red, gold, purple – in streaks and high-lights and solids, and in multiple combinations. A feast for the eyes, nubile human flamingos. Inside the restroom, I pretended to check my makeup and adjust my hair. I used the time to check my potential audience. And I got the shakes. All these strange women, a crowd of more than a dozen – how would they react? Could I do it? But I had to; I could not back out now. I noticed a mature woman beside me sniffing the air. She had a puzzled look on her face. I realized suddenly that she was smelling me; my arousal must be making me juice some more and she was picking up the scent. Time to get to it. The older women tried to ignore the younger ones, who were noisy and brash, laughing and giggling and joking. Their antics and sounds caused a cacophony of echoes in the hard surfaced room, making it seem even louder than it was. Maybe they wouldn’t hear me in all this noise, I hoped. I waited until there were three empty stalls in the middle of the row and took the middle of them. Inside, I locked the door and looked around. It was small with about a foot of space between the floor and the steel walls. I could see part way into the stalls beside mine. Oh, dear. I reached up under my skirt and peeled off my skimpy panty. I realized it was damp with my juices. I took it up to my nose for a sexy smell. I figured out how to work in these cramped quarters. Then I hung my panty on the hook inside the door and sat down. Oops. Need to do something with this skirt, I realized. I pulled it up and bunched it around my waist, wishing the dress had a belt. But I tucked it in as best I could to keep it out of the toilet water. Then I realized the toilet seat was not going to work. If I leaned back the plumbing attacked me in the small of my back. Finally, I compromised. I sat and slid as far forward as I could, lean back into the hardness that now caught me in mid-back. Just then a woman entered the stall next to me. I froze. Her feet were visible and I could hear her pushing her panty down onto her thighs. Then the sound of her pee splashing into the water.