The Public Forum

A new town...

As your beat-up car crawls along the summer street, the lush greenery of your surroundings makes you feel like life is flowing through your very veins. Fresh air, rolling hills, far away from the urban life you so vehemently hate, it's a literal breath of fresh air. Not to mention the bohemian isolation of it all. Sure, the townspeople are as liable to be conservative as all rural small towns, but the sleepier town squares prove perfect for your perverted sense of freedom.

You find a nice, quiet little parking spot in the shade on a winding street, near an eatery patio decorated with tiki torches. Thankfully the lunch rush isn't quite there yet, and it sits perfectly abandoned. Leaving the car seat behind and popping the trunk, you look down at your attire. What to take, what to strip. You've got a simple tee and plaid shorts to go, making for a comfy, simple look, but definitely not anything fancy.

Well, that's gonna change real quick. Your bag of perverse goodies stares at you from your trunk bed. Some bikini tops, a few sheer shirts, and a tight-fitting sweater to name a few. You'd rather be ass-naked, but your last two-day stint in jail was enough to tell you your heart beats just a little too loudly. Guess it's gotta be a bit more discreet than that... at least to start.

The sun feels heavy on you, as your tight-fitting garb molds to your dampening flesh. Some low-rise shorts, a black thong visible through an unbuttoned fly. Not to mention the way it all struggles to fit around the bakery of an ass you'd worked so hard to tone, the definition barely fitting in the garment in its most strained places. A sheer crop top and a bright prink bralette, easily visible under the almost unsubstantial veil, completes the lewd ensemble.

It makes you excited. Sure, you'd prefer to be naked and all that, but it's baby steps. A new town means getting acclimated to a new vibe, discovering all the new hiding spots, and figuring out who the creepers, freaks, and the normalcy are.

"F-Fuck babe..." Your boyfriend fails to stifle a moan, head thrown back in ecstasy. The blowjob up until this point has been purposefully, delightfully sloppy, your drooling mouth slurping along the underside of his shaft with blissful vigor. Your breasts have created a cradle for the cascading saliva, almost a foot of bright red sweater fabric soaked through. The deep stain of filthy paste, concocted by your tongue and his precum, would be visible from space with the amount it drizzled down.

But it's all nothing compared to the finale. You give an award-winning smile, sitting pretty like an angel on the heels of your soft leather pumps when he finally comes. Having saved up a week's worth of spunk, six shots of thick, virile ejaculate rocket forth from his member. Ensuring the messiest climax possible, it coats your face in milky white while you remain still with giggles and shut eyes. Rope after rope paints your slutty canvas, soaking into your hair, your makeup, and settling into every pore. But of course, messy was the point. Slobbering all over your tight red sweater was the point. Coating every inch in his delicious man milk was the point. You wanted to look like a freshly-fucked pornstar for the rest of the day.

When he's finally finished draining his heavy cum factories and there's a nice layer of cum glazing your entire face you pull off his cock with a final suckling of the tip. You lean forward slightly, a waterfall of spunk dripping from your chin to join the drool on your sweater. Once every last drop had been soaked up, you slip your heels back on and gather your things.

"God... I wish I could see you strutting around out there..." he murmurs. "Hope someone gets the sight they deserve."

He knows you like to go on cumwalks, after all. He was the one who gave you the idea in the first place. A type of exhibitionism, nothing sexual bared to the world, but the most visible part of your body coated in all manner of lewd substances proudly flaunted in public. You close the door and step out onto the city street, heart pounding.

The flared intrusion of solid silver, lubricated by lustful saliva and eager fingers, penetrates your petite posterior and sinks into your flesh with the slow stubbornness of metal. The slick friction burns its way inside you, scraping your innermost surfaces with the cool harshness of an unnatural shape. It joins its smaller sister, the buzzing bead buried in your throbbing loins, as the two devices claim two very different parts of your vulnerable young body for their own.

Standing proves an unsurprisingly difficult task, your holes assaulted in such ways you've never before imagined. You shiver, a long sustained groan vibrating in your throat, hips wriggling to accommodate the new foreign contents. To think, the vibration settings aren't even turned on yet...

Once you acclimate to the odd pressures and feelings, the two trespassing devices firmly nestled inside you, you stand. Ever the lustful woman, you dress in a tantalizingly short skirt with impossibly-tight panties, the anal plug's base bulging underneath the fabric. Though the silicone sphere locked within your hot core is less conspicuous, you get the feeling its presence is keenly perceptible. You wonder just how many might perceive your underlying lewdness, however?

The mall, crowded with many a busybody and eager shopper alike, provides a dangerous stage for your quest for pleasure. A tiny remote in hand set to randomly buzz the two devices for significant intervals ranging from ten seconds to a minute, you wobble about the mall, exploring on unsteady feet. Mercifully granted a few moments of peace, you find yourself in the corner of a clothing store when the first wave strikes.

The rising sun bathes every naked inch in waves of golden-orange, bringing out the bronze undertones of your supple skin. Each rolling gust of wind flows unimpeded over the hills of your chest and the valley of your hips, cooling the hot embers inside and out. As you step along the trail, your buds stand bare and erect, ready to greet any lucky hiker making their way back.

It's been a while since the sweat has stopped to cool, the winding trail working every muscle, and painting your nude canvas a sumptuous shade of sweaty pink. As you step over the rocky trail, you give thanks that, in all your nude glory, you compromised to cover your soft feet in rugged boots. The rest of you stands proud and exposed to the Heavens and Earth alike, any sense of shame having burnt away miles ago. But, with the sleepy trial's difficulty rapidly mounting, it's time for your first short rest. Bare thighs and ass spread like a dewy blossom, you perch gingerly upon a smooth rock, one last splash of sweat watering the patch of grass and moss at its base.

The sensations of it all, the sunlight gracing every inch, your womanhood throbbing in the open, and the thrilling threat of being caught at any moment have you positively moist in the summer sun. Your moment of respite almost over, a particularly cold breeze sends electric jolts straight to your stiff, turgid peaks. Standing up, you release it all in a gasp of pleasured delight.