In less than an hour she'll be making love to herself. In front of strangers and certain people she knows, some intimately. She will masturbate in public. She's thrilled. She's scared. Humiliation competes with the erotic excitement. The warm wet slickness already trickling down between her legs as she walks from the parking lot. Arousal is overcoming the fear. Her breath comes faster and she can sense her heart rate increasing as she realises how vulnerable she'll be, with the eroticism of what she'll be doing very soon. She needs to cum immediately but must hold off until they're ready for her. She's excited. Soon she will be naked. She's happy with how her cunt looks, and is even happier to be allowed to show it today. Afraid she'll lose control and cum right now, she tries taking shorter steps to keep her lips from sliding against each other so deliciously.
She's nervous and on the verge of an orgasm. She has to pee. She feels great. Her stomach is doing flips. She looks like an ordinary professional woman, blouse, business-length skirt, hair neatly up, limited but tasteful makeup. She's afraid the people around her sense her state of arousal, that she's right on the delicious edge. She's shaking. She's calm. She's confused. She feels the juices running down between her legs and wonders if they can see it. Or smell it. She's trembling with arousal, just thinking of what's ahead. Her legs are tingling. She knows her conservative attire is a big lie; a short skirt without underwear would be more honest; that way they'd know how she feels inside and what she's about to do. If they only knew! Maybe they do know.
As she reaches the Physiology and Human Factors building, fear takes over. The sight of the familiar building takes her thoughts back twenty years to when she'd been a graduate student here, to that day when she volunteered to allow her professors and fellow students to observe and record her orgasm for the pioneering research the department was doing. She replays in her head her feelings of that day: the the cool thin sheet hiding her nakedness as they looked down from the desks around her. How she nearly orgasmed early as the probes were inserted: vaginal to monitor her wetness, anal for body temperature. Other sensors taped to her skin and cameras focused on her face and shoulders. Another under the sheet, aimed up between her legs, to film how she manipulated herself. She'd held her breath the whole time the technicians were prepping her, holding off the relief she was so desperate for. That was then.
Suddenly, as she sees the professor sent to meet her, her mind snaps forward to the reality of the present day. This is now. Within a few minutes she'll be humiliating herself again, under the eyes of this man. He was here back then, and he's still on the faculty now after twenty years. He was the one who directed that masturbation, is the university official who now invited her back, and today he would be observing her again. Did he tried to imagine what her cunt looked like under that sheet? Today he'll be seeing it without the sheet. That's right, she actually requested no sheet, but the university still insists on a "modesty panel" over her breasts. She wonders if her cunt looks the same, after two kids. The realization that this man watched her masturbate when she was young sends an erotic pulse through her body. Her mind floods with feelings of both humiliation and joy. She's ashamed of what she did back then; today she can't wait to do it again. Now she's a confident, liberated woman, with her own permission to do as she chooses. She can control her orgasms so much better now. The pleasure and the risk, the excitement and the danger. The humiliation in front of her colleagues. The promise of forbidden sexual pleasure. The thrill of exhibiting herself.
The occasion is a regional conference on human physiology. Her particular field of expertise is genital response to sexual stimulation, a niche field made up of close-knit scientists who share their research at conferences and special sessions like the one she will be the center of today. She attended graduate school with most of them, some right at this same university, the ones who observed her masturbate years ago as a grad student. Over the years their careers crisscrossed, and she's been romantically, or at least sexually, intimate with many of them. Some are here today. The others are strangers now, but she will be collaborating with all of them for the rest of her career, even the new ones she hasn't yet met. After today, they will always know her as the one who can openly fuck herself with her finger, right before their eyes.
Today she determines to give it her all. In spite of the vulnerability and shame, she'll give them a little more than she gave before. Today she'll show them what twenty years of experience has taught her about masturbating! Her 'performance', although she'd rather not call it that, will give the data she needs for a paper she's co-authoring, and also, in this risky setting, should give her a massive orgasm. Right in front of them.
Her old professor hands her a robe, and goes on ahead to arrange the classroom. She's left standing there holding the robe, and it must be obvious she's getting ready to go inside and take her clothes off. She's afraid and feels naked already. She wishes she were naked already. Again her mind drifts back to that earlier day. She's now practically in a dream world, barely conscious of the students milling around on the way to their next classes.
Inside the building she sees them up close and realizes many are the ages of her own son and daughter. She heads toward where she remembered the ladies' room to be, finds it and goes in to strip off. She stands naked in front of the mirror and likes what she sees. Nice figure, pretty face and hair, perky tits, full and firm and not yet yielded to gravity, attractive nipples, dark and eager to be fondled. Slight but cute middle-age tummy bulge, then the bit of pubic hair remaining after last night's shaving of everything around her cunt, all the way back to her ass hole. She turns around and looks over her shoulder, and is pleased with her round, firm butt. Long, lean, shapely legs. She likes the look of her cunt, with its well-defined outer folds just barely holding in the tender edges of her inner lips, and the look of her clit, barely peeking out near the top of her slit. The total package isn't too bad, she thinks, after all these years. In just a few minutes her nakedness will be on display.
She folds her clothes, slips on the robe and lets herself out into the hallway. Naked under the robe, she makes her way through the hall to find the amphitheater where she will masturbate again, this time the mature woman in the prime of a successful career in the very field her young observers are qualifying for. Now, without panties, she feels the lips of her cunt sliding past each other. It stimulates her arousal. She can feel the cool air under her bare bottom, a reminder of her vulnerability as she looks for the right room. With no underwear she's unprotected, and she loves it. She trembles with anticipation, as her legs become wobbly. She wonders if the students crowding the hallway can detect the sweet smell of her arousal as she tiptoes past them, since there's no barrier to keep the scent in. With every step, she's reminded that everyone knows she is naked under her robe. She's still trying to control the movement of her lips, because she's afraid to have an orgasm right here in the hallway. She'd love to have an orgasm right here in the hallway. She wishes the fabric was thicker, so her aroused nipples wouldn't be so obvious, or thinner to reveal them more. They're like two pointers showing her which direction to take, and she's just following them! But she loves the feeling of them rubbing against the inside of the cloth, and she likes that everyone around her seems to notice them. They are very pointy right now. And they're just aching to be touched. She's afraid that if the hem of her robe snags on something, her nakedness will show. In fact, she wishes that would happen. Her breathing is coming in irregular rushes. She feels her clit yearning for attention. She feels all the sensitive nerve endings of her clit and nipples sending signals nonstop to her brain.
She could easily be mistaken for an art class model, but she remembers that the art studios were in another building. As a penniless student she had modeled there, offering up her nakedness in return for money to meet her tuition debts. She had enjoyed modeling there, especially the poses when she was "accidentally" penetrated by the male models, and the memory sends pulses through her vagina. Over the years, she's kept her trim figure and continued modeling part time. Modeling lets her be the only one naked, much like she'll be doing today. But today is for science. And for herself. She imagines being naked right now, walking among all these fully clothed students. She knows they know that under the robe she's naked. The undergraduates don't know why, but the advanced grad students do, the ones who wink at her. She knows that they know what she'll be doing and what they'll be seeing in just a few minutes. Except they don't yet know that she'll be without the sheet! The secret excites her and she feels another rush of fluid escape to run down the insides of her legs. Almost there. Her well lubricated thighs slip easily past each other. She loves the feeling. She's very afraid. She returns the smiles of the knowing students, wondering if they're thinking what she's thinking. She wonders if they're imagining what it would be like to fuck her. She teases herself about wanting to show them.
As soon as she turns the last corner, her mind slides back again to that fateful day twenty years earlier. Back then, she was eager to masturbate just as the course syllabus called for: lie down, get wired up, make love to yourself, sit up and talk about it, done. Previous volunteers, male and female, had failed: premature ejaculations, no erection, dry or unresponsive vagina, but mostly they couldn't overcome their shame. Even under that sheet. But as a wild and carefree twenty-four year old still experimenting with sex, she wanted to make a bold and daring statement, and so planned to do everything called for, enjoy an earth-shattering orgasm for science, then maybe throw off the sheet, jump to her feet and take a bow! Or something like that.
