It started with a dare. I had been corresponding via email and Instant Messages with a young woman in England who was shy and lacked self confidence. I'll call her Jenna.
She couldn't seem to initiate any sexual event. 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 was able to talk to her mom about masturbation and get across the idea that she would sometimes need privacy in her unlocked bedroom. This was a major step for her and helped build her confidence.
We kept doing little things like this for a couple of weeks in July and then she turned the tables on me. One day she said, "Susan, I want to give you a dare."
I said, "Jenna that seems fair, and kind of fun. What's your dare, dear?"
She said, "I dare you to do something sexual in public."
"Oh, you little imp. What exactly did you have in mind?"
She said, "I want you to masturbate in a public place."
After some thought, and listening to my psyche begin to react, I agreed. I told her I would report back when I had done it. It took a few days to get ready and work myself up for it. 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.
Shortly after noon I parked my pickup truck at one end, by one of the anchor stores, J.C. Penny. I slipped out of the truck, 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. It had spaghetti straps, a soft bosom that supported my unfettered breasts, and was snug from just below 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 plastic 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 youngsters, 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, and white – in streaks and high-lights and solids, and in multiple combinations. A feast for the eyes, nubile human flamingoes.
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 panties. I realized they were damp with my juices. I took them in my mouth as I figured out how to work in these cramped quarters. Then I hung them 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.
