This is another x-rated post that I shared on Reddit last year which always makes me chuckle/squirm with embarrassment when I think of it.

So I brought my ‘A-game’ even though I was having doubts about meeting up with ‘Chad’ again.
[The TLDR is that ‘Chad’ (aka Sir Cums Alot) was a (for me very uncharacteristic hookup), and a weird drunken one-night stand kind of thing from a party I was at a few weeks ago. And he and I are of very different types, he’s more of the ‘cool party people’ variety and me – not so much, but pool parties have a way of equalizing many things somehow].

And so, we’d texted since then and I agreed to meet for drinks last weekend with him and see what happened from there. And even though I was deeply doubting the wisdom of this beforehand I absolutely put in my maximum preparation effort anyway – I had a thorough shower and scrub, meticulously shaved all the bits, did the hair, filed my nails, polish on my toes, lip gloss/eyeliner, expensive underwear option, agonized over clothing options, etc. And, most significantly to what follows later – I had also continued to NOT masturbate as I typically do in the shower. I’d been on a fast since we’d agreed to meet up again so as to be extra hungry, which at this point had been three days and I’m typically an everyday girl that way. So I had a bit of a charge on and (I thought) looked good enough for someone to want to help me deal with it.
However…

I barely recognized him from the other night where he’d been in only swim trunks and mostly submerged. He was dressed in a way-too-tight neon green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He must have used an entire bottle of some sort of horrific smelling body spray. He was also already drunk (or on drugs of some sort), talking way too loud and smiling way too much and he had the attention span of a squirrel – his eyes couldn’t sit still, he was constantly checking his phone, or looking around at other people, or looking at my chest, back to the phone, nope another stare at my boobs, yep they’re still there, okay now back to the phone…etc.


I did try (honest) and make an effort though and we chatted as best we could which mostly went back to the party where we’d met and our time together. But it was all painful. And then by miraculous intervention, some friend of his showed up and they bro’d each other into oblivion. Apparently, some party was going down, and did I want to come and join them? No, darn it, I really ‘somehow wasn’t feeling it tonight. Did he mind if I bailed?’ Chad seemed to look relieved, I’m sure I did. So we did our own version of a bro hug and I left them to it and walked home – carefully deleting his number from my phone along the way.
Now, all that is really foreplay for my story though. I suppose also it gives some closure to the Chad incident – but mostly I said it to highlight that I was prepped and geared for action and feeling pent up with sexual tension and frustration. Which then takes us to the funner part of the evening’s saga….

I get home. For ‘reasons’ I have been staying back at my parent’s house this summer. It’s a pretty small house and when I get there my parents are in bed but not asleep. They hear me come in and I wish them a good night, change into my pj’s and then raid the fridge. Leftover apple pie- Yay!! Half a bottle of white wine – double Yay!!I put on headphones curl up with Netflix in the living room.

A few hours later and it’s midnight, the wine is gone and my hand is in my pants.I don’t know if that’s a genetic hand me down from my Dad (who always sits with one hand tucked into his waistband when watching tv) or I just do it all on my own but more often than not if I’m loafing on the couch my left-hand cups my crotch. (Please tell me other people do this too!?) Generally, I do it as a sort of comfort, self-soothing thing, and not any actual masturbatory intent. But usually, my hand just rests there over my clothes. In this instance, however, the ‘clothes’ are just a thin layer of pajamas and my fingers have been exploring over them on autopilot. I only fully realize this when the show ends and I discover I’ve been working myself into a bit of a lather. Shit. Too late to have a shower to disguise such activities as the bathroom is beside my parent’s room and would wake them for sure. I pad down the hall to my room – a bit further along and opposite and ease through the bead curtain that is the door.

No door you ask? Why no door? Awesome question! It has no door because when I was 15 I was overly fond of slamming it. I would do this so that everyone in the house could (literally) feel my displeasure at whatever in that moment had compelled me to stomp to my room in fury. The whole house would shake. It was awesome. But…after yet another such incident my Dad stomped in right behind me, whipped back open said door, and yelled something to the effect of “Young lady that will be the LAST time you slam that door or there will be NO DOOR!” To which I replied something massively stupid along the lines “Oh ya!?” and then slammed it all over again just to call his bluff (Testy little minx wasn’t I? Dumb though.)
I recall Dad just nodded to himself thoughtfully and then calmly walked off to find some tools. I can’t help but think he intended it to be a temporary punishment but I had my back up so as weeks turned into months I stubbornly refused to complain about it and eventually hung a beaded 60’s style curtain thing that I found at the thrift shop in its place. The door was left in the garage where it fell into service as a table of sorts to hold paint cans and other bric-a-brac (a task it still performs today). Which is all just to say that as there is no door to close, the acoustic barrier between my bed and my parent’s bedroom is essentially – zero.

I crawl into bed. Try to sleep. Toss and turn. After a bit, I end up on my back propped up on pillows with my legs splayed slightly apart in my default “I’m masturbating in bed” pose. Begin to do so. But absolutely just to play for a bit, not with a REAL intention. Just to get a bit of a warm glow on. (Ya right sure. Good luck with that!). And I do have a definite glow happening. That delightful tingling heat from my breasts to my hips. Gosh. I guess all that couch fumbling earlier got me more worked up than I realized – my fingers rubbing lightly over my lips find their way past and I am SUPER gooey down there.

Ah, fuck it I can be stealthy (I think?) and with the wet heat that’s happening it for sure won’t take long. A few gentle clit circles and then I push a finger back between my lips a few times to get it well and truly lubed. Ah, that’s better, super slippery on my clit now. Yep. Yep. Another little push and slide inside for more goo. Then back to my clit again. My legs draw further apart. Fingers rubbing in light circles. Shit, it’s getting loud. Squelchy wet sounds. I double the duvet over my lower half as a sound barrier. That’s better. Fingers back in action and within a few seconds they’re pressing harder and more urgent. Mmmm. Uh-huh. Fuck ya. Here we go…Sharp involuntary gasping inhale of breath (oh shit that WAS loud). Stifled groan. Little body spasms I try to tense against to minimize. Bed frame squeaks and creaks (dammit).

Sigh…okay. Waves pass. That’s better. Well…sort of better. It WAS an orgasm, no question about that. But not really one to write poems about. Too contained. Too restricted. Too much stealthy performance pressure. And not one that really did much to satisfy. But still..a tension relief of sorts. Fine. Time to try and sleep.

Five minutes pass. Nope. Wide awake and unfulfilled. Wait a second! Where is my vibrator!? Still packed in a box from when I moved back in over a month ago, of course. That’s what is needed here. A deeper and more meaningful g-spot involved kind of fireworks. And that’s what that vibrator is made for – this is not a dildo penis substitute plunging action kind of design, oh no! This is a highly contoured stay in place and vibe on the happy place kind of thing. Narrow neck with a bulbous end and just what the situation demands for a truly full-body release.

It’s almost 2 am. No way I could dig it out without making a ruckus. Or could I??
A minute later and I’m crawling on the floor trying to sneak a hand in under the lid of the bottom box in a stack. What is in here? All manner of things that are NOT vibrator shaped. Finally, I feel the cloth bag I keep it in and drag it through the other crap under the lid and out to freedom! Scraping sounds as the boxes sway against the wall but not too bad.

Yippee! I open the bag grab my prize and then drop the bag and my pj bottoms on the floor and scramble back into bed! Quietly fluff the pillows. Arrange the duvet into a folded sound barrier again and then get comfy. The bulbous end of it is a bit large so I typically need to do a little warm-up lube to get it in, but my lips are still a gooey mess from the orgasm a few minutes ago so it just takes a few slides up and down with a bit of twist to get all sides covered and…oooop…yep….in she goes. Ahhh. Okay. Fun time!

The vibrator is a pricey one but it’s amazing. It has a range of vibe intensity and a number of different patterns you can scroll through. I go with my usual favourite – sort of a pulse thing. It starts up and instantly I’m feeling that sweet vibrational wave doing its magic. Somehow really muted though not nearly as zippy as I remember it being. I crank it up a notch or two. On the plus side, it’s a pretty low hum being muffled by being 80% inside me and then with the duvet over top. Too loud? Mmmm. Nah.

I lie back for half a minute or so and just wallow in the sensation. There’s a slow build going on and I grab one boob with my left hand with a firm squeeze as I reach for my clit with my other hand. And… it stops. Shit. Must’ve turned it off somehow. Fumble for the buttons. Nothing. OMG the battery is dead. Of course, it is you fucking moron – it’s been sitting abandoned in a box for a month or more. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. God damn it!
Breathe deep.
Pull it out. Make double sure it’s not working. OH! Wait! It’s back to life…but feeble. Okay, I’ll just hold it on my clit. Oh that’s nice. Mmmmhmmm. Nope. Stopped again. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. God damn it! Sigh.

I’m close enough for sure that stopping isn’t an option. So I poke Mr. Lifeless back inside and while it feels ‘nice’ in that it gives pressure in a filled-up feeling kind of way, it isn’t nearly the same. I leave it in place and use my fingers on my clit again. Another warm tingling orgasm is soon on its way but even as it rushes closer I feel I’m missing that tantalizing g-spot action. I hunch up a bit to be able to reach down with my other hand and grab the end of the vibe. I give it a few pumps in and out (something I’ve never attempted before) just as the orgasm breaks.

The duvet has slipped down a bit and the squelching sucking sound is unbelievably loud. It sounds like I’m using a plunger on a half-full kitchen sink. I scramble to stop and stuff the duvet back over myself as I’m cumming. More bed creaks and gasping pants. The duvet flip has knocked over my glass on the bedside table that floods water everywhere. I desperately try to rescue my phone, headphones, and a book but manage to drop everything. Jesus. Splish splash crash. If my parents are awake they must think I’m herding otters or something.

Minutes go by and the house stays quiet though. I save my phone and leave the rest.
Toss/turn. Try to sleep. Still annoyingly unsatisfied.

Finally, it occurs that if I could find the vibe then the charger must be somewhere in that box too. It wasn’t in the bag with it (where it usually lives). Did it fall out when I was pulling it from the box? Listen hard – all is quiet. I ease out of bed and I’m crawling again. One hand lifting the boxes above, the other slipping into the bottom one. I find all manner of desk items (stapler – why do I even own a stapler?). And then, at last, a wire! I’m reeling it in to see if there is a charger connected when there’s a sound from somewhere out in the hall and I freeze. I’m very aware that I am on my hands and knees, naked from the waist down with my ass is pointed straight at the door. At least it’s dark. There’s a creak of a bed, just someone rolling over I think (hope). A minute passes and no other sounds so I keep digging and triumphantly extract the charger. Yippee!

Back to bed (again). Locate vibe. Plug-in charger to wall, plug-in plug to vibe. Fluff pillows, arrange duvet. Does it need a while to charge up to be useable or can I use it wired up right away? I turn it on. BZZZZZZZZZZ. Holy shit that is loud! Off! Deep breaths, listen hard…all good.

Relube and reinsert vibe THEN turn it on. Muted rumble now, much better. And OH YA, so much better. Still louder than before though. I cram the duvet around my hips on all sides to make as soundproof a barrier as possible. Good enough. I lie back.

All that hard work finally pays off. I have to jam a corner of a pillow into my mouth a minute or two later to muffle myself. Between the pulsing waves inside me and the hot slippery fingers outside it’s a full bore full body-rocking orgasm. Finally!

It’s now almost 3 am and I leave the vibe in place on its lowest rumble just to keep a happy glow fired up and close my eyes…just for a minute or two.

I wake up when I hear my Dad at 6 am getting up to go play golf. I’m kind of dopey and sprawled and sort of…WTF is that sound? OMG. Panic! Sit up and scramble to locate the vibrator still gamely buzzing away under the duvet somewhere. It’s unplugged and not inside me but still with enough renewed charge to buzz. I find it, at last, turn it off, and jam it under my pillow just as my Dad walks past the door. He sees me moving and pauses but then continues on without a word.

All totally fine I think and fall back to sleep but then later when I finally wake up I see my room looking more or less normal aside from my pajama bottoms in a heap just inside the doorway lying beside a vibrator-sized cloth bag in full view. Hmmmm.