Masturbation Monday: “Dining Alone”

Today’s Masturbation Monday comes from a prompt by Mr CK – “write about going to a restaurant and getting it on with the hot waitress.” Well okay then!

A woman sitting alone reading at a restaurant table. For a Masturbation Monday piece called "Dining Alone". I noticed her the moment I walked in. Long waves of red hair, barely contained by the sensible ponytail, curves filling the modest-yet-sexy knee length black dress, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun across the bridge of her nose, grey-green eyes. So my type it hurts.

So straight it hurts, I tell myself as she asks me where I’d like to sit and shows me to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. The girls you like always are. I’ve been on this business trip ten days and I’m sick of everything this boring little town has to offer – which isn’t much. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I stepped off the plane.

I order my glass of wine, my starter, my main course, and each time she comes to take an order or bring me something I try not to stare. The shape of her breasts in that dress – not to mention the fact that I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in weeks – has my cunt dripping into my knickers. I reach into my bag for my book, the book I’ve been secretly reading at night in my hotel room. Do I actually dare read it here, in public?

Fuck it, I think. No-one here is paying attention, and even if they do, they don’t know me.

Of course, the filth on the page just has me even wetter, reading about women doing filthy things to each other and imagining the beautiful waitress in those scenarios with me.

“What are you reading?” she asks, coming over to clear my starter plate away. I jump and look up guiltily, slamming the book shut and shoving it onto my lap under the table. To my disbelief, she reaches down and grabs it to take a look.

Best Lesbian Erotica,” she reads out loud, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze moves from the book cover to my now scarlet face. “Really now?”

“Research…” I stammer.

“Sure, babe.” She hands the book back to me. “More wine?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes. Please.”

She takes my glass and saunters away without another word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was swinging her hips and ass deliberately to taunt me. Not knowing what else to do, I return to my book. When she brings my wine and, a few minutes later, my main course, I dare to flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile at her.

Judge me for reading porn in public, I dare you!

“Is everything okay?” she asks, appearing by my table again as I’m half way through my spaghetti alla carbonara. I nod, my mouth full. She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, grabs the spare napkin from the unused place setting opposite me, scrawls a quick note and shoves it towards me. This all seems to happen in a single fluid movement, and she’s walking away again.

Shift finishes in twenty. When you see me go through the door in the far left corner, follow me – code is 1013. Don’t let my colleague see you. We won’t be disturbed. 

I nearly choke on my mouthful of spaghetti. Even as I’m telling myself that this is insane, I know that I will go. After all, when a beautiful woman summons you with such calm authority, what else can you do?

I keep my eyes on my food and occasionally glance at my watch as the ten minutes ticks down. At precisely one minute past ten, I watch out of the corner of my eye as she waves goodnight to her colleague and saunters to the back of the restaurant and out of sight.

Am I really going to do this? Do I dare? In a second, I decide. I throw down enough cash to cover my meal and a generous tip – a very generous tip – and head in the same direction, one eye on the other waitress, now the only person working. As she’s ringing up another customer, I seize my moment, punch in the code, and shut the “staff only” door behind me. I just have time to take note of that fact that we’re in a large and deserted commercial kitchen, all silver and chrome, when…

“I knew you’d come.”

She’s sitting on one of the shiny counter-tops, stockinged feet now free of her high-heeled shoes, sipping from a glass of what looks like whisky on the rocks.

“I don’t really know…”

I was going to say I don’t really know why I did, but she cuts me off. “Shush. You’ve been eye-fucking me since the moment you walked in. Lucky for you, I think you’re kinda cute too.” She hops down and comes towards me. She’s shorter than me without her tall shoes, but the confidence and power she exudes leaves me in no doubt who’s in charge.

My mind starts to race. Is she toying with me? Is this some kind of joke? What if someone walks in at any second? Then she presses her perfect, red, whisky-flavoured lips to mine, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

She pushes me back against the closed door, fingers twisting their way into my hair as we kiss. I think I moan, but the sound is swallowed by the kiss. I cannot remember the last time my cunt was so wet from nothing more than kissing and feeling someone’s body pressed up against mine.

She nudges my legs apart with her hand, then brings her leg between mine, thigh pressing against my cunt. Even through my tights and knickers, I’m sure she can feel the heat and wetness. Shameless, now, I grind against her, desperate for more stimulation. God, how long has it been? Can a few short weeks of no sex really make me into such a wanton slut?

I gasp when the leg is moved and replaced by her hand, the ends of long, elegant fingers dancing ever-so-softly against my cunt through the two thin layers of clothing. She’s teasing me, because she can see how much I want it.

“Please…” I whimper against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, slipping her hand under the waistband of my tights and into my knickers, making contact with my desperate cunt at last. My gasp of pleasure is the answer she needs. When her fingers make contact with my clit and begin to circle it, I cannot help my moaning.

“You have to be quiet,” she says. “Can’t have you getting me caught and in trouble. If you make too much noise I’ll have to stop.” Her calm dominance and her talented fingers have me weak at the knees, gladly wanting to do anything she says, anything to please her. Another rush of wetness coats my already soaked panties.

I’ve always been loud in bed. It’s just the way I am. Back in my university days, my housemates hated it when I brought this girl or that boy home for a night of passion (which was often) because it meant none of them were getting any rest that night. But I believe this beautiful woman when she tells me that she will stop fingering me if I make too much noise, and all I want in the world right now is for her fingers to keep going, keep pushing me towards bliss.

Her rubbing has changed. Faster now, and harder, my own juices providing all the lubrication we need. I bury my face in her shoulder, in her hair, to hold back my sounds. My clit feels harder than I can ever remember it being, and I’m thrusting my hips, humping her hand with my cunt. I’m so close! For some reason it comes to me to ask her permission.

“Please can I come?” I whisper frantically.

“Just from this little bit of attention? God, you really were gagging for it, weren’t you?”

The flush of embarrassment nearly pushes me over the edge. “Oh, god, please…”

“You can come if you can do it quietly.”

My mouth opens into a scream but no sound comes out. Somehow, holding the sound in makes my orgasm even more intense and I come, harder than I have ever come before, in this stranger’s hand.

As I grab at the wall to steady myself, she places a small kiss upon my lips and then withdraws her hand from my knickers and shoves her sticky fingers into my mouth.

“Clean your mess up,” she orders. I suck the fingers clean, the musky smell and taste of my own cunt making me realise how much I want to taste hers.

“Can I…?” I ask, already crouching before her and starting to push her dress up.

“No. My colleague will be in here any minute and you need to be gone by then.” I swallow my disappointment as my hopes of getting to bury my face between her perfect legs are dashed. Then, perhaps inspired by her, I have a flash of daring.

“Quick. Give me your phone.” She does. I punch in the name of my hotel and my room number. “I’m here two more nights. Come and find me and I’ll return the favour.”

It’s not until she’s kissed me once more and then shoved me out of the back door and into the night that I realise I never caught her name.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

[Guest Post] “Three Pairs of Ruined Panties, Two Delicious Dinners, and One Squirming Sex-Blogger Slut” by Jadis Liddell

Today I am super honoured to be hosting a guest blog by the gorgeous and talented Jadis of Tits and Test Tubes. She’s so brilliant I am frequently amazed when I remember 1) how young she is and 2) how new she is to sex blogging. Definitely an up-and-c0ming talent to watch out for, and a woman I am privileged to call a friend. I’ll let her introduce herself…

– Amy

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A woman's body from the waist to mid-thigh, wearing black lace knickers and drawing a heart on her hip and belly with red lipstick. For a guest post by Jadis Liddell.

Hey, I’m Jadis Liddell, a queer sex blogger who writes erotica, reviews sex toys and talks about mental health. I blog at Tits And Test Tubes, and am on Twitter at @TitsAndTestTube. I’ve been blogging for less than six months, so I was really excited, but also really nervous, to pitch this post to the wonderful Amy at Coffee & Kink, who I have a wee bit of a writer-crush on. I recently had my first threesome , a really interesting conversation about reclaiming the word ‘slut’, and took myself out on a date…

(And yes, bonus points will be given to those who sing the title of this post to the tune of the Christmas song that I have been told off – and spanked – for singing in May.)

While I’m sure there are many people who arrive at my blog looking for more science-related-content than my erotica delivers, I am at heart a scientist and a very curious person. A few weeks ago, I realised I had a unique opportunity to conduct a very fun experiment that played into many of my kinks and could hopefully help me learn something new about my sexuality.

I had a date for kinky play with two cute humans lined up in the next few weeks, and we’d spent a lot of time discussing and negotiating sexy fun for our adventure together. Lots of this involved playing into my kinks of denial and humiliation, with them making fun of me for how wet and needy my cunt was after they’d tormented me to their satisfaction. To help with this, and especially so we could explore them teasing me in public, I’d bought a new toy: specifically, the Desire butterfly vibrator from Lovehoney. (Reviewed by Amy here).

I was about to enter a week of denial when I wasn’t allowed to masturbate – following on from a few days when I was allowed to wank but not orgasm – to make sure that I was a horny mess by the time I got to play with them. I think this was guaranteed anyway, but they wanted to be certain. (As well as see me squirm, because they are a wonderful sadistic bastard and a mean-in-the-best-way switchy girl respectively.) However, I hadn’t tried out the new toy yet, and I was struck with inspiration for how to do so.

Something I’d been meaning to do since the start of 2018 was taking myself out on a date – which I was defining as getting dressed up and going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. In my mind, it was an expression of self-care and self-love, and as well as a reminder that I am not ‘less’ because I’m not in relationship. Since my mental health meant I hadn’t yet done it at this point, I decided that I would combine testing my toy with taking myself out to dinner. I wore cute knickers, new tights, a pretty dress, a belt that matched my boots… and under all of it, a vibrator strapped to my cunt.

With instructions from my to-be-play-partners to be a good girl and turn the vibe on while you’re talking to someone, slut, I headed off on my date. In my handbag, the remote for the butterfly lay next to my new LGBTQIA+ YA novel, but by the time I’d reached the end of the street I’d slipped it into my pocket and had fun testing out the settings as I walked to my restaurant of choice.

As I was treating myself and ordering a luxurious three courses, I had lots of time to play with the toy. Like the obedient girl I am, I turned the vibrator on while ordering my dishes and asking for the bill, but I might have tweaked exactly how powerful the vibrations were for that. (Though they don’t know that, so ssshh!) While eating my food, I had the remote on my lap, and wiggled slightly as I increased and decreased the intensity and tried to find the position where I could maximise its stimulation on my clit.

Using the toy in such a public space, occasionally biting my lip to stop any little whimpers escaping, was extremely arousing. It felt like I had a dirty little secret, and I fantasised about getting off while surrounded by all the unsuspecting customers… or someone seeing me trying to get off and striding over to pull my dress up and expose what a filthy girl I was. It will be a surprise to none of you that my knickers were soaked with my arousal by the time I got home.

That was the first phase of my experiment. The next was trying it out when someone else held the remote, to see if it was hotter when someone else was in control.

Everything about my first threesome was brilliant, but I did especially enjoy the moment where I was told to put on the butterfly vibrator so we could go out and get food. They checked that the straps were tight and made me hold it away from my cunt (my poor, aching, hadn’t-been-touched-for-a-week cunt) so they could make sure it worked. I’d been given orders that I was to make sure the toy was charged so they could use it on me, and at the moment they tested its vibrations my bratty side wondered what they’d do to me if it wasn’t… but it was, so the game was on.

I’m a big fan of Japanese food but I’m not sure I fully appreciated the deliciousness of the sushi and noodles I consumed that night. The couple I was with passed the remote back and forth between them under the table, so I could only tell from their smirks who was toying with my cunt at any particular moment. They looked at me earnestly with completely innocent expressions, engaging me in conversation as they turned the vibrations up and watched my struggle to form coherent sentences.

They played with me in a way that was humiliatingly hot and they did it in such a delightfully gleeful way. I don’t think they made me order food; something that I’d been looking forward to and dreading in equal cunt-clenching measure. But I wasn’t brave – or stupid – enough to give my tormentors this especially devious idea to make me squirm.

On the way half-hour journey to their house, I sat in the back of their car with my legs spread and begged the mean pretty girl to turn on the vibrator while I made a mess of the seat under me. I loved every humiliating second.

But there’s another element: did you notice that my title says three pairs of ruined knickers? I admit, I may have simplified for the purpose of a clever blog title – the actual number is probably much higher. The results of my experiment show that I found being helpless in public, at the mercy of two cute humans who controlled my cunt, far more fun than just wearing the toy on my own. What’s maybe less clear, from the results I’ve related above, is that I actually found the discussion about being teased as hot (if not more so) than just playing with the vibrator myself.

One of the reasons I’m a sex blogger is that words are powerfully arousing to me and a key part of my sexuality. And as brilliant as our threesome was, I am not sure if it would have been quite as good if it hadn’t been preceded by weeks of flirting, sexting, and discussion of boundaries that built wonderful sexy anticipation. When I was allowed to, I jerked off furiously with lube and my favourite toys while messaging them about the wonderful ways they were going to make me suffer. When I wasn’t, I carefully sat on my hands so I wasn’t tempted to, because I really wanted to. Their words were good, the kind of good that made my cunt clench and made me catch my breath at their sheer hotness.

I think it comes down to what I’d call my biggest kink. Orgasm control is hot, humiliating scenes are hot, struggle-fucking is hot, but the connecting thread in all of these is power play. Having someone in charge, whether I’m fighting against that or being a good girl, is brilliant – and ultimately it wasn’t there when I was ordering dessert from the cute waitress on my date. The element of dominance and submission that I get off on was there through most of our pre-threesome conversations and left my cunt dripping every time.

So, the results of my experiment overall? I love exploring my sexuality alone, but getting to play with others who want to make me blush and squirm tends to result in doing more laundry, because I ruin so many pairs of knickers…

Remember to check out Jadis’s work, and if you enjoyed this piece, buy her a virtual coffee!

Image courtesy of Pixabay.

Stop the Drop: 25 Things to Do When Subdrop Feels Overwhelming

Subdrop is real. As Kayla says in today’s 30 Days of D/s prompt, what goes up must come down. Subspace is a kind of high, fueled by adrenaline and endorphins and all kinds of happy-fuzzy brain chemicals.

Subdrop is what can happen when those chemicals wear off and reality sets back in. For some, it can be as soon as the subspace high has ended, while for others it can hit a day or even several days later. A lucky few may not experience it at all. Everyone is different. I most often drop somewhere between 12 and 24 hours after an intense play session, though it has been known to be quicker.

A close up of a person's torso wrapped in a blanket. For a post on subdrop

Drop looks different for everyone. You might feel sad or depressed. You might cry a lot. Some people report feeling really listless or now on energy/”spoons“. When you’re in the middle of it, it can be overwhelming and completely horrible.

Not everything on this list will work for everyone. Pick out just one or two that speak to you and try them. Here’s 25 things you can do to help when you’re dropping.

Amy’s Top 25 Subdrop Remedies

  1. Cuddle someone/something! Your partner, a friend, a stuffed toy, your pet.
  2. Make your favourite hot drink and sip it slowly, noticing how it tastes and letting the cup warm your hands.
  3. Eat some chocolate or whatever your favourite sweet treat is. Not enough to make you feel sick, just enough to give you those feel-good chemicals.
  4. Cook yourself a simple, healthy meal and enjoy eating it slowly. Something with protein and vegetables.
  5. Watch your favourite film or an episode of your favourite Netflix show. Something lighthearted is better.
  6. Write in your journal.
  7. Post to your blog, if you have one.
  8. Share how you’re feeling on your kinky social media of choice. Sympathy and virtual cuddles from friends who get it can be surprisingly cathartic.
  9. Listen to a comedy podcast or watch some stand-up. Laugh until your tummy hurts.
  10. Curl up under a cozy duvet with a good book or a magazine.
  11. Meditate. There are thousands of free guided meditations on Youtube, or try the Insight Timer app.
  12. Masturbate! Orgasm can perk you up no end.
  13. Go for a walk. Preferably somewhere out in nature, but to the shop at the end of the street and back will work in a pinch.
  14. Sit in your garden, if you have one, or a nearby park. Fresh air is important.
  15. Buy yourself something, if you can afford to. This could be as elaborate as that dress you’ve been lusting after for months, or as simple as a fancy coffee.
  16. Tidy up your room or work space. I always feel better and more clear-headed when my safe spaces are neat and tidy.
  17. Take a bath or shower. Spend as long as you like luxuriating in the hot water. Use your most decadent shower gel or that fancy bath bomb you’ve been saving.
  18. Play loud, upbeat music. Optional extras: sing along loudly, dance around your room for the length of a song or two.
  19. Call someone you miss. Your mum. A grandparent. Your best friend in another city. Just pick up the phone, say hi and catch up.
  20. Create something. Whatever your creative talent is, use it. Play your instrument, bake a cake, write a page of your novel, knit a few rows of your latest project.
  21. Take a nap. Even an hour of shut-eye will help recharge you a little.
  22. Exercise. Hit the gym, go for a run, or do some yoga. Moving your body releases tension and clears your mind.
  23. Get your hair cut or your nails done. No drastic changes! But a bit of pampering can really raise your mood and make you feel good about yourself.
  24. Just sit with the feeling. This is a mindfulness technique. Sit, feel, and think: I am feeling rotten right now because I am subdropping, but I know this feeling will soon pass and I will be okay.
  25. Do something for someone else. Whether it’s a chore that’s normally your partner’s but they’re super busy today, or getting shopping for an elderly neighbour, caring for others takes you out of your own head.

I hope some of these techniques are helpful to you, dear readers. How do you banish the dreaded drop when it hits?

Kinky item of the day: Bondage candles! Ever tried wax play? It’s one of my favourites and it doesn’t have to be painful – it can be really sensual. Please only buy candles designed for this purpose, as regular household candles can burn much hotter – especially if they have dyes or scents added. Remember to take fire safety precautions and start slowly if you’re new to wax play.

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The image featured in today’s post was offered for use via Creative Commons Licensing.