Last summer, while we were staying with out-of-town friends, the subject of sex toys came up.
Actually, that’s not totally true. The subject had come up during our previous visit. That time, we’d all gone into an adult shop and browsed. Our friends picked up a Violet Blue-edited erotica anthology, while Jack bought me a slender white vibrator called the Hummingbird. That night, we retired to our friends’ guest room and I tried it out while Jack watched and masturbated.
The next morning, our friends asked us about our toys. Despite having been together for more than a decade and having a very satisfying sex life (by their own account), they had never used sex toys of any kind, and in fact had never seen a vibrator in use outside of a porn film. As we are pretty candid when it comes to talking about sex in front of a willing audience, we discussed at length exactly what benefits a vibrator might bring to their sex life.
Despite their initial misgivings, by the end of our discussion they seemed open-minded about the idea of buying a toy and using it during sex. We didn’t have any vested interest in whether or not they decided to do this. We understand that what works for one couple or one individual will not work for all. But they had asked, and we told them.
In the year and a half between that visit and the next one, the husband would occasionally I.M. me on Facebook. Sometimes we’d chat about work, or the weather, or life in general. Most of the time, though, we’d chat about sex in the filthiest terms imaginable. The conversations turned me on, and to this day I’m not entirely certain whether his wife knew we were having them.
He’d occasionally bring up the vibrator discussion in much the same way that a young child brings up a toy he or she wants for Christmas, with coy hints and roundabout mentions. One day he just came out and said it: “You should’ve given us a demonstration.” I can be forward, but I’m not usually that forward. It’s one thing to talk about vibrators when prompted to do so by trusted friends, but it’s something else entirely to suggest using one in front of people who have shown themselves to be unsure of them.
That brings us to last summer. Shorly before our visit, he turned up on I.M. and over the course of a relatively PG conversation asked if I was going to be bringing a vibrator with me. I told him I was going to bring a couple, partially to see what he would say, and partially because it was true. “You should definitely give us a demonstration”, he said. I played along, but didn’t think he was serious. Jack disagreed.
I spent the next couple weeks thinking about it as nothing more than a fantasy. The thought of showing off in front of a small, intimate group was really sexy, but it also made me nervous. I was excited to think that something might happen, but at the same time I took comfort in the much greater likelihood that it wasn’t going to. I certainly wasn’t expecting it.
The trip had been pretty sedate and unsexy compared to the previous one. There were no trips to adult shops, and no lazy afternoons spent watching porn. These are the adjustments one must make when a child is present. In a way, I didn’t mind. The difference in tone set my mind at ease, and eased some of my nervousness.
One night after the baby went to sleep, Jack and I sat around the island in our friends’ kitchen, talking about our plans for the next day. Without warning, the wife asked if I had brought a vibrator with me. I was surprised by the question, coming right out of the blue as it did, and although I hesitated, Jack said yes before I could. She asked if she could see it, and said that I didn’t have to bring it out in front of her husband if I didn’t want to. I told her I didn’t mind, and brought out my Rabbit, and my Eroscillator.
They were both curious, and asked the kinds of questions that people in their thirties who watch porn should probably already know the answers to. After assuring her that they were clean, I let the wife touch them. She liked the softer texture of the Rabbit more than the harder plastic feel of the Eroscillator. I glanced over at the husband as he watched her touch the Rabbit, and the look of lust in his eyes was so intense that it made me wet. Then he looked at me, we locked eyes, and I looked away.
We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, my vibrators sitting atop the island countertop, and then he asked if they could see them in action. She admonished him right away, and started to apologize in such a way that I immediately understood that she wanted a demonstration as much as he did, without wanting to seem like she did.
“That’s all right,” I said, cutting off her apology. Jack had already said yes, so I added an enthusiastic “Of course,” then turned to her and said, “If it’s okay with you.” Nobody protested. As we walked out into the living room, my heart was pounding with anticipation. I was nervous. But at the same time I felt so relieved. It was something I wanted to do, and our friends were not only okay with it, they had actually asked!
I took off my pants and my panties and left them on the floor in front of the couch. I was trying to seem a lot more confident than I felt. They’d never seen me naked before. All I could think of was, What if they don’t like my body? What if they aren’t turned on? What if this hurts the friendship?
It also occurred to me that I was about to sit down on someone else’s couch completely bare-assed. I felt like I should have a towel or something. Though I don’t always have a say in whether or not I squirt, I wasn’t planning to. But it just seemed like bad manners to me. Silently I hoped that our friends were so turned on that they wouldn’t mind.
I sat down, my legs spread and my feet up on either side of me. Jack took a seat next to me, and our friends sat on the floor in front of the couch. I looked down at them, both obviously excited but doing their best not to show it. I could tell from their poker faces that they were trying to make me feel at ease while doing their best to deny their arousal, like college students in their first human sexuality class meeting.
Actually, the husband was tightly gripping through his jeans what I assume was a throbbing erection. His wife was doing a much better job pretending that my demonstration was just for research or something. I wished she could have been more demonstrative of her arousal, but it didn’t turn me off. I turned on my Rabbit and placed it against my opening, feeling the tiny ears bat against my lips.
Total pleasure washed over me and I moaned softly. The room was otherwise silent. Slowly I parted my pussy and slipped the toy inside of me. Our friends gasped. I inserted the Rabbit all the way in, the ears buzzing my clit vigorously. They shifted to get a better look, but I didn’t notice. I was too busy wishing Jack would pull up my shirt and start sucking my tits. He didn’t. I guess he was just enjoying the show.
I felt like a girl in a peep both putting on a show for a horny crowd. Although having so many eyes on me was a turn-on, I was trying to consciously avoid putting on a show. I didn’t want to be theatrical, I really just wanted to get myself off the way I do when I’m alone or when it’s just Jack and I.
That’s when I felt Jack’s hand on my thighs. He knows how much that turns me on when I’m masturbating. I sighed softly, sensuously, and our friends both giggled, undoubtedly knowing how good it felt. As Jack’s fingers danced along my soft, aroused flesh, I knew I was getting close. I climbed along a steep plateau for several minutes, enjoying every second as I held the Rabbit inside me, alternately imagining that it was Jack’s cock, and then our friend’s.
My orgasm snuck up on me, but I gave into it shamelessly. My soft, demure moans became a scream of release, and as I fucked myself with the vibrator I raised my ass up off the couch, reflexively thrusting my pussy forward. I found myself holding that position, trembling, repeating “Yes” over and over again. In that moment, I wasn’t sitting on the couch. I wasn’t showing off for our friends. Everything I was doing, I was doing entirely for myself. Nothing else mattered.
When I opened my eyes I saw my audience looking up at me. Both looked a lot less clinical and disinterested than they did before the show started. In fact, the husband’s erection was very prominent within his jeans. Now that was hot.
Our friends immediately excused themselves to their bedroom, and although we didn’t hear anything, there’s no way that they weren’t rushing off to have sex. Jack and I did the same thing.
-Jill
