Okay, okay, Tommy has been bugging me to tell you about the "little adventures back in college" that I mentioned. This is really kinky. It was back in my "If it moves, fondle it" stage back in college. Remember those days? Well, it was actually more like, "If it moves, fuck it." He knows only a little about some of those kinky times, so some of this may come as a shock. Sorry, baby. I mean, I was really horny and loose back then, much more than the suburban mom that you know now. It was a different time back then, and I was a different person. However, I think that the titillation will far outweigh the shock value. If this doesn't make you hard, I'm losing my touch.
Sometime in college, back in the late sixties (boy, am I showing my age!), my then-boyfriend and I went to a foreign movie at an "art house" theater in town. I can't remember the title of the movie, unfortunately. (Somebody please tell me if you can. This movie contains one of the most erotic scenes I've ever seen, and I would love to see it again. I'm sure my memory and lust over the years have enhanced the film with details that weren't really there, but what the hell.) Some Italian flick, like "La Dolce Vita" but five or ten years later. At some party, a bored girl does a dance on a piano. You think it's going to be a striptease, but it's not. She's very conservatively dressed in a nice blouse and straight skirt. Short skirt, that was the style then. She sits down on the edge of piano, removes her shoes then stockings from under her skirt. And then her panties. But she carefully shows nothing. She gets up on the piano top and dances around sort of lazily, slinking as much as dancing, all the while pulling her skirt higher on her thighs. You still don't see anything of her goodies under the skirt, but you can imagine like crazy.
A man with sunglasses brings a long-necked chianti bottle to piano, places it in front of her. (You know the kind of bottle, a round bottom covered with wicker, and a long neck, maybe two feet long. You used to see them in stores and bars -- and in college dorm rooms -- back then. Very dramatic to pour, but the wine was usually pretty sad.) In any case, she dances over to it, reaches out with her long hand and fingernails and touches the top, dances around it, pulls back from it, looks at it. She dances up to it and around it. Her hands push her skirt up her thighs more so that the hem is above the neck of the bottle. Now she dances up to it, right up to it, and the neck is under her skirt. She closes her eyes and dances hypnotically, shoulders and hips just moving with the music. The bottle is now between her legs, and we know she is not wearing any underwear, we watched her take them off. Jesus, is she going to do this? I thought she was just going to dance *around* the bottle and maybe fondle it suggestively. Boy, was I ever square. The camera pulls back for a better look. Her knees bend and she gets lower, the neck of the bottle disappears under the skirt. She bends down a little further, her hips down toward the bottle, she gasps a little, she bites her lip for a minute and then bends even a little lower. The bottle is now inside her! Ohmigod! We see her sink down on it in little jerks, half a foot or so, then up, then down again slowly. Then she pumps it regularly, clearly fucking herself with the object though the crowd can't really tell, they can't really see. The onlookers applaud softly. But soon they get bored even with this exotic, erotic scene. One by one they return to the conversations they were involved in before. The movie continues with a discussion while she fades into the background, still pumping away at her inert lover.
Absolutely the most erotic thing I had ever seen. I nearly slid off my seat in the theater when I saw this. Holy honey-pot, was I turned on. I didn't care if her lover was inert. It was unbelievable to watch her take control, take that thing into her body, into her most intimate pussy space, and fuck it and fuck it. Ignoring the crowd. She just wanted to fuck herself. I melted.
My boyfriend was turned on, too. (And fortunately we were already intimate. I can't imagine how embarrassing it would have been to watch that scene with a casual date.) When we went back to his room later, this image played a part in our lovemaking.
We shared a bottle of wine to loosen up, which we often did, by the light of a couple candles, romantic and sexy. When he drained it, he made a show of licking off the neck of the bottle and looking at it lasciviously. "Would you dance with the bottle, for me?" he asked. I was kind of expecting it. I took the bottle and put it on the floor. "Leave the skirt on," he said. "It's much sexier that way if I can't actually see it but have to imagine it going inside." He was right, that was part of what made it so sexy. (And permitted the movie to be shown in art theaters in college towns rather than in porno theaters in slums. But never mind that.)
I got up and found some suitable music on the radio. I started swaying to the music as I came back over to him. He was sitting on the floor, back against the couch. The bottle was on the floor, too. I danced up to him, put my crotch under my (relatively short) skirt right up against his nose for a moment, then backed away. I reached up under my skirt to grab the waist of my pantyhose and pulled them down a little. I realized I would have to sit down to remove them, so I pulled out a chair and faced him, worked the pantyhose down my thighs and calves as sexily as I could, giving him whatever peeks under my skirt. When they were off, I threw them over to him. He sniffed them, dirty boy, and held them in a little ball. So I reached up under the skirt again and pulled my panties down, slowly, a bit at a time, teasing and tempting. When I threw them to him, he sniffed them, too, deeper and longer. I got up and swayed slowly over to the area of the bottle. Around it. Then right over it.
It was just a normal wine bottle. It was so short, it was clear I would have to kneel over it rather than squat down that low. So I knelt just behind it, from his point of view, and walked up to it on my knees. I had to raise my skirt many inches to get the hem over the neck of the bottle, just like the girl in the film, but not quite up to the goodies, so the audience couldn't see anything, just imagine it. Just imagine my sopping pussy hovering over that bottle. Hard, vertical, smaller than a cock, at least this bottleneck was. But quite enough to penetrate me. I moved forward a little more and started to sit down on it. Not quite in the right place. I moved forward a little more, then down some more. Right there, that's the spot. Holy shit, it's nudging its way between my lips, right up to my little hole.
I look over at my boyfriend. His mouth is open, his eyes are staring wide, he's almost drooling. He looks up at me with lust I have never seen before, and with love, too, and with pleading that I continue this act. I gently, slowly, relax my legs and, sure enough, the bottle pushes its way past the entrance of my vagina, pushing open the muscles and inside. It's a little cold, cooler than any cocks or even fingers have ever been. I haven't felt this kind of cold, hard intruder since I was a teenager experimenting with my hairbrush, my favorite shampoo bottle, my candles. I relax more, down further onto it, until the shoulder of the bottle is too large to go inside. I have the whole neck up me. Up my cunt. I might as well say that, because that's what it was at the time. A hot, hungry, drooling cunt that wanted something hard to fill it. How depraved, and how sexy, and how thrilling it felt.
