Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Naughty Mommy

I’m a pervert.

It’s true, I admit it. Well, I don’t actually admit it to anyone except myself, but there you go.

The reason I call myself a pervert is because the one thing that gets me off more than anything else is masturbating in public. Yes, in public. That gets me so hot I can barely stand it. Not where anyone can actually see me — not quite, anyway — but where someone might be able to see me. God, it makes me so wet, I can come over and over again.

I’ve been doing this since… you know, as I think about it, I realize now that I’ve been doing this ever since I was just a little girl.

I didn’t really know it was masturbation at the beginning, or even anything sexual, I guess, but I can remember in grade school how my teachers used to take me aside and tell me to quit playing with myself. Most of my teachers, anyway.

There was this one, Ms. Lessing, in third grade, who never tried to stop me. I think she enjoyed it. Ms. Lessing moved me up to the first row of desks, right in front of where she sat, and every day I would catch her watching as my fingers crept down between my legs while I was doing my schoolwork. She gave me really good grades.

I liked having Ms. Lessing look at me. I remember wishing that some of the other female teachers I had would enjoy looking at me when I played with myself instead of scolding me about it. But the others weren’t as nice as her.

As I got older, I became better at hiding what I was doing. I used to practice a lot at home, in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I would try on different sets of clothes and see which ones allowed me to get the most satisfying touch with the least chance of being discovered.

By the time I was in sixth grade, I was so clever at it that I could play with myself pretty much all day long at school and no one ever noticed. I’d realized by then, of course, that what I was doing was certainly something sexual. I knew what masturbation was, or at least the idea of it, and I knew how good it made me feel to touch myself that way.

I realized too about that time that it was not only my physical actions that got me so excited, but also the things I thought about while I was doing it. When I imagined some of my prettiest teachers naked, or if I pretended I was touching one of the girls I had a secret crush on, that would make the pleasurable feelings even stronger.

It was during that year, when I was 11, that I finally had my first orgasm.

My last class in the afternoon was music, in the auditorium. I played clarinet. I’d been rubbing myself almost constantly throughout the day and my panties were very wet.

By then I’d also discovered that I didn’t always have to use my fingers to please myself. If I sat just right, I could squeeze my thighs together and get this incredibly nice sensation. This was the perfect method to use in music class, because as we were playing a tune, I could sort of move my body in time with the rhythm, and nobody would know what I was up to.

That’s what I’d been doing that afternoon, and by the time the class ended, I was getting really hot and sweaty with excitement and I knew my panties were soaked. I remember being worried that someone might notice how I looked and maybe ask if I was sick or something, but luckily no one did.

While the other students were putting away their instruments after class, I sort of hung back, moving into the shadows, waiting until everyone else had left. And when the auditorium was empty, I took a chair to the center of the stage where we practiced and sat down, facing toward a phantom audience.

My heart was pounding. I wanted someone to see me, to watch me, but at the same time I was terrified of being discovered and getting punished. It’s that sense of danger, of course, that heightens the thrill for me and gets me so hot.

As I sat in the chair and looked out, I slowly spread my legs. I was wearing a loose cotton dress that day. I drew it up my thighs and reached down to touch my panties. As I’d expected, they were very wet.

I put a hand inside. It felt steamy and moist in there, like a jungle. I used my other hand to pull the panties aside, uncovering my naked crotch, and began rubbing myself.

I kept looking at the auditorium doors, wondering what I would do if someone came in, a janitor or another student. Could I get away in time? Could I make some excuse? Or would it be completely obvious what I was doing?

Part of me knew I should stop. But another part of me knew I couldn’t. I had to do this.

That was definitely the biggest risk I had taken up to that point in my life. And as I sat there on the stage, totally exposed to anyone who wanted to look, and vigorously rubbed my hairless pussy, I began to feel something new happening inside me… a swirling warmth, a surging pressure, building, pulsing, growing… I was trembling all over… I kept rubbing myself, kept trying to look at the doors just in case, as I felt that pressure inside getting stronger and hotter… hotter and stronger… and then it happened. The surge boiled over. My first real climax.

*       *       *

No one came in and saw me that day. I was very lucky.

As soon as I got home from school, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I was alone in the house, but for some reason I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get caught. Maybe it was because the ordeal on stage had really frightened me.

I took off all my clothes and stood in front of the mirror.

I looked at my body. My breasts were still just little swellings with puffy nipples. I had no pubic hair. I didn’t look like a woman yet. I looked like a young girl.

Using my fingers, I spread my labia. I could see something sticky and whitish inside.

I started warm water running in the bathtub and got in to wash myself off. I held my vulva under the faucet and tried to clean the sticky stuff away. Of course, you can guess what happened. Pretty soon I had my second orgasm.

After that, I began to masturbate all the time. Well, I suppose you could say I already had been masturbating all the time, but not all the way to climax. But now that I had discovered what it was really all about, I simply couldn’t get enough.

I masturbated in the bathroom, in my bedroom, and also in other rooms of the house. I liked trying it in different places to see where it would get me the most excited.

Doing it on my mom’s bed was nice, and I especially liked doing it in her bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I sometimes did it in the kitchen, in the family room, or in the backyard.

I did it at school, too, of course, as often as I could.

A few weeks after my experience in the auditorium, I managed to have my first orgasm while sitting inside a classroom full of students.

We were taking a history test. I was in the last row, on the side, so only one person really had a good view of me, and she didn’t seem to be paying much attention. The test was easy. I finished quickly, ahead of everyone else.

As I’d been working, I had one hand pressed between my thighs, and I’d been squeezing my legs together. I would do this regularly throughout the day, as much as I could without being seen. It felt great.

But on this day I needed more.

Very quietly, I slid my hand up under my big sweater and then down inside the stretchy waistband of my skirt and into my panties. When I felt my middle finger pressing between my labia, into my hot center, I had to suppress a gasp.

I was good at doing that. I knew from lots of practice how excited I would get and how I could best control my reactions. Glancing over at Pamela, the girl sitting nearest to me, I saw that she was focused on her work and wasn’t at all concerned with what I was doing.

While I pretended to be checking my answers on the test, slowly running my pencil up and down the page, I gently teased my clit with my other hand. I wasn’t sure I could actually make myself come that way, using a minimum of motion and permitting myself no outward sign of arousal.

But I did.

I felt the pressure slowly building inside me that day until, about thirty seconds before the class ended, I reached climax. I remember feeling not only intensely aroused and sexually fulfilled, but also very proud. It was gratifying to know that I could give myself so much wonderful pleasure whenever and wherever I wanted.

And, of course, having successfully done it one time, I continued to do it as often as I could manage. From middle school all the way through high school, I masturbated to orgasm in the classroom at least twice a week on average while I fantasized about looking at a naked woman or kissing a cute girl. As far as I know, no one ever realized what I was doing.

I enjoyed doing it at other places too, like at the city library, at the shopping mall, and in the park. I love to masturbate, and most of all I love to masturbate in locations where someone might possibly see me.

*       *       *

A few times people have seen me.

The first time was in a bookstore at the mall. I was 14. I was rubbing myself while I browsed the shelves, but apparently I wasn’t being quite careful enough. I discovered that a middle-aged man was staring at me. That grossed me out. I left right away and didn’t go back to that store for a long time.

The next time it happened was at the beach, when I was 15. I caught a woman watching me while I played with myself. I didn’t stop, and when she saw that I knew she watching, she didn’t look away either. I continued until I finished. Then she quickly picked up all her things and rushed off. Heading home to masturbate, probably.

Two years later, when I was 17, someone saw me again. It was at the mall. I was in the lingerie section of a department store, looking at some sexy nighties, and I got really turned on. I decided to masturbate right there. I went between two racks of bras and panties and stuck my hand down inside my jeans. I was about halfway to climax when I noticed a couple of girls, both around 12 years old, standing nearby and looking at me. They were clutching at each other and blushing and giggling, but doing it quietly. I think they didn’t want to call attention either to themselves or to me. They wanted me to keep going, and so I did. I rubbed myself until I came.

And that’s it. I have masturbated hundreds of time in public places, but as far as I know, I have been seen doing it by only those four people. Chances are, I suppose, that there have been others that I wasn’t aware of. If there were, I hope they enjoyed it. Especially if they were pretty girls.

That’s one of my favorite fantasies: that I’ll be touching myself somewhere and a hot looking girl, maybe a teenager, will see me, and then she’ll start touching herself too while I watch.

That hasn’t happened yet, but who knows, maybe someday it will.

Continue on to Part Two