the public cumming of Ms C

Ms C phoned again last night. Her mother's condition had continued to deteriorate and Ms C now despaired that she would be able to return before the New Year. Her voice trembled a little - some might have mistaken this as a sign of the emotional strain her daughters duties had put her under. I made no such mistake.

"What are you fucking yourself with now Ms C?"

Ms C stopped fucking herself and her voice steadied a little.

'I went to a... shop... it was... horrible, humiliating but didn't know what to do and i... needed something... inside me.'

She sounded genuinely disgusted.

'It was such cheap little shop, full of... Not the sort of women i would normally... associate with. The girl behind the counter looked like a... a not nice sort of girl and she had a tattoo on her breast and her nose was pierced... twice. Though she was very ... kind i suppose... and i really did.. need... something. You have no idea...!'

Ms C, it seemed, had recently visited some sort of high street sex shop, and, by the sounds of it, had not quite yet recovered from the experience. Though this seemed less to do with the nature of the products - and more to do with an innate snobbism in Ms C about the character of the shop itself (and her fellow shoppers).

'it was so bright and everything was so... garish and... plastic and.. ugly. And it was full of cheap looking women, in cheap shoes and with too much make up...'

Ms C would have looked very conspicuous in a commercial sex shop in her neat little brogues and her discreetly expensive clothes. At her most disapproving she has a pinched look about her, cheeks drawn inwards until her thin mouth is so tight it looks as though it might disappear altogether. Mr C has practiced the art of the disapproving stare for so many years now that she is now something of an expert.

She would have made quite a picture - a prim schoolmarm scurrying between the aisles of butt plugs, and lube and 'fancy' nylon underwear.

'Who would wear such things?' she pondered - it was a sort of rhetoric, so i did not comment.

Ms C's outrage did not, as it turned out, extend to a range of 'rather intriguing glass... object'. These, she pointed out, had the virtue at least of not looking 'cheap'. They also, she said, had the most.. fascinating shape to them.

i could hear Ms C licking her thin lips on the other end of the line.

'But it wasn't that..' she said, her tone altering. 'That's not what i phoned to tell..'

She paused, and i let her. Sometimes it is best to allow people to find the right words in their own time.

'It was what i did... afterwards... on the train.'

She said that it was late by the time she was making her way back to her mother's house and that the train was almost empty. There was a young man across the gangway facing her direction by clearly asleep. When the guard had passed and Ms C felt herself alone she had unwrapped one of the four glass dildos she had purchased.

'They were all so.. different,' she explained. 'it was impossible to chose, and the nice girl in the shop had taken so much time to.. inform me how each might be... used...'

Certain that the young man was asleep she, rather boldly, removed the dildo from the bag and placed it in her lap.

'He was perhaps twenty,' said Ms C, quietly. 'and rather.. pretty,' she added, 'as some youths are.'

Ms C, she confessed quite willingly, had been very swollen even before she had left the shop. By the time she sat down in the train she was almost uncomfortably drenched. She was convinced that even her thick skirt would have been visibly damp before she had settled down into that pool of her own juices. And, now, with that beautiful and bulbous glass object in her lap, the weight of it pressing onto her delicate groin, the temptation (she explained) had simply proved too much.

Almost before she was aware of what she was doing she had slipped this cold thing beneath her skirt, and the moment it kissed her inner thighs she knew that would have no option but to fill herself with it. It was an easy thing, she said, to adjust her knickers to one side and play the almost chilly glass between her swollen cleft.

'i was alone you see,' whispered Ms C. 'and i hardly made a sound.'

As the young man slept - his pretty head lolling against the window - Ms C teased the glass tip along the little shaft of her clit and let it sink along the inner parts of her swollen labia. With uncharacteristic control she traced the little streams of her creamy wetness as they trickled out of her cunt and down between her buttocks. For a moment she allowed the tip to linger against the tight knot of her anus but did not dare do more than that. Instead, and still with great control she fed that fat tip into her cunt.

'Not too far,' she said in a hushed tone. 'Just far enough so that i could grip onto it tightly and then i fucked myself... shallow to begin... letting it slip in and completely out, and... so ... slow... just as you've... taught me....'

Before she was fully conscious of her actions Ms C was fucking herself with much more vigour. The dildo had a curve in it and she used this to press down the rear wall of her cunt so that she could feel the 'echoes' of the motion in her back passage. She insisted though that she made no sound apart from the muffled slurps as the glass slipped deeper inside her - and she had control of that. Being so.. quiet, she could not understand what it was that woke the youth. Nor was she aware of how long he had been watching her.

She could have stopped of course - when she did become aware of his pretty eyes on her - but she did not stop. Instead, and without even blinking, she looked him straight in his moon face and continued to fuck herself. Ms C said that she might even have drawn up her skirt a little more now that she had a.. spectator - though she remained unclear of this detail.

The youth betrayed little by his expression, but he did not look away. According to Ms C he had very dark eyes, though he was very pale 'like so many city-youths are'.

'I.. wet myself,' said Ms C, quietly. 'I couldn't.. help myself. I started to... cum, looking into his eyes, and couldn't stop... cumming and i.. wet myself... one hot.. gush and i was almost slipping under the little table i had so little control of my legs.... And even though i knew i was pissing i just kept plunging that thing into me... and i don't know for how long....'

Ms C was very calm then on other end of the line.

'The boy didn't say anything. When i was.. done he simply put his head back against the window and closed his eyes again. He got off at the next stop. He smiled as he passed me and nodded his head in a friendly manner... but no more than that. And i.. got out of my wet chair and put on my coat to hide the mess i'd made and stood all the way to for the rest of the journey... And then i went home and her i am... talking to you... and i smell of piss and i want so badly to cum again.....'

Ms C, i believe, is making quite a lot of progress.

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