Someone once told me "that the best stories I've ever written, revolve around one of two subject matters: either writing about what happens to me personally, or just as effective: the 'fantasy,' incorporating what it is that I would like to happen to me, personally."
This is an actual occurrence. It happened only 2 nights ago.
Never having owned a vibrator in my entire life and suddenly finding I have a deep yearning to learn how to give terrific head [to one particular guy]: I went in search of my first rubber penis.
Now a couple things need to be explained here in order for my readers to be able to understand the full impact of my predicament in finding this particular teaching tool.
Despite the fact that I can write 'Smut;' I am not a promiscuous female: if anything, I am sexually inhibited and would die if any of my family, outside of my daughter, found out that I take great pleasure in reading and writing this kind of "garbage.".
The reason I need to learn how to give head to this particular male is because I really, quite honestly don't know how to do it properly, never having administered it to a male before, despite my age. I found an article on site here, which gave a very detailed written tutorage and I wanted to buy a fake penis to practice on, while I learnt.
... And for those who are wondering why this particular male isn't teaching me himself: I cut ties with him, as he was about to give up on me as a lost cause. I fully intend on trying to reconnect with him a couple of months down the track, slimmer and hopefully, sexually advanced enough for him to take me seriously this time [like in my fantasy romance: Leeanne gets her wish.].
.............................
I had my adult daughter with me. She was in town on a 2 day visit from Melbourne. We had lunch at this little, open area restaurant in the heart of Surfers Paradise and I told her I wanted to go and discretely check out the adult store, so I could look for 'my little training tool.'
Obviously, I left that little piece of information out of the conversation.
My daughter was delighted because, being less inhibited than I am, she frequents these stores all the damn time.
I chose this particular shop because there was a girl at the counter which, to me, was more comfortable than having a male looking over my shoulder as I viewed the merchandise. I had been in an adult store once before, about 3 months ago when my daughter thought it was time to broaden my sexual horizon. We had been completely alone that day also, except for one female sales person: so I felt free to explore what was on offer, although still vigilantly watching the entrance for any sign of male company. I would have died had a male walked in at any stage while I was perusing their wares.
I found I loved the lingerie, especially the dress up stuff. I also discovered new things, like the fact that the male oriented sex toys are nothing like I thought they'd be; and they are more numerous and varied than I originally believed them to be.
Anyway, we went inside the Surfers Paradise outlet: and I went straight down the aisle to the back of the store, making a beeline for the where the penises were located in the other shop.
I wanted to find something realistic in size and shape, and without actually having a ruler close at hand, thought I had found what I was after. Obviously the color was all wrong.
I took note of the brand, as there was no way in hell I was going to buy it there. The counter was right next to the entrance to the store and being late night shopping, the outside was packed with people looking into the store, although not actually being within the store boundaries.
Because we were still alone and the shop interior was fairly well isolated from watching eyes, I continued to peruse for another five or so minutes. I was fascinated by the stock available.
All of the sudden, out of nowhere, this loud wolf whistle shrills through the air and an even louder voice shrieks, "Hey, show me your tits. I want to fuck you!"
I look to my right and there is this bloody toy parrot perched on a shelf.
I think it was movement sensitive, as I couldn't shut the bloody thing up.
This is obviously not what I want to hear being called out loudly around me in a sex shop.