i have this recurring fantasy.
it’s not the kind of fantasy that you ever put into practice, at least not anywhere anyone you know might find you but i’m willing to bet that it’s pretty common.
it only ever comes out of the woodwork when i’m masturbating by myself and having a hard time actually getting myself aroused enough to enjoy myself or when i’m not quite getting the job done and i need my brain to help me out.
you see i’m usually the kind of woman who gets off by thinking about what she’s doing to get off, kind of like:
“oh man i’m so wet!
feel how slick and slippery my slit is!
mmmmmmmm tinglies…
oh god that feels so good, just a little faster…
hrm, do i need a toy?”
you know, like that. so i don’t normally have to fantasize very much and if i do it’s generally about some nebulous head licking me or whatever.
except for this one recurring fantasy.
it’s interesting to me because it returns and because it involves doing nothing more than what i’m already doing; that is masturbating. except that the setting changes and only slightly.
the ceiling becomes a thing through which people can see. in fact, there are people watching me through the ceiling and i can’t see them. i know they are there and that they are watching me but i cannot actually see them.
they are many the folks that are watching. they are many and many of them are playing with themselves as well just from watching me as i slide my fingers around myself.
they watch as i tease and pinch and tweak my nipples, they watch as i dance my fingers down my belly and tickle my pubic hair, they watch as my face changes and my body tenses.
i feel them there watching me, groaning along with me and leaning over the rail for a better view, eyes intently staring at my tiniest motions as i tease myself for them.
nearly always i slow down at this point and start to put on a show. i play with my nipples and tease my clitoris until my labia fall open on their own. i allow my hips to rise more than they otherwise might and i most definitely make more noise.
sometimes, not every time but sometimes, there’s a camera pointing straight down in the middle of this room above me. a camera focussed on my face as i play with myself and my face moves through whatever contortions it will move through as i lose myself in the pleasure i am inflicting on my body.
often the watchers are sitting around a railing in a club like atmosphere with cigars and scantily clad waitresses. often they are naked and sitting on kitchen chairs. occasionally they are dressed all in formal attire and not touching themselves. at times they are all coming all over the one way glass that is separating us.
i will moan and twitch and buck my hips. i will cry out and groan and gasp for breath and finally, mercifully, with one last good thrust of my pelvis i will come in great waves of tingles and electric shocks that run through my body.
and they, they will nod approvingly and check the tape before retiring once more to the back of my little brain and i? i will collapse, spent upon my sheets with that particular smile on my face that only my lovers ever see.
