A Walk in the Park

At the entrance to the park the woman hesitated. Looking over her shoulder at the way she had come, the short walk from her home, just along the street. A look of concern that could be mistaken by a passer-by as a sudden fear that she had forgotten to lock the door. But they would be mistaken, it was so much more than that.

She had come this far, and she found herself annoyed by her own nervousness. She looked back to the view of the park before her. It was busy, more so than usual. It was spring and there was just a hint of the coming change of green in the skeletal trees. There was a new and welcome warmth in the sunshine and only a gentle breeze. The fine weather had brought out small groups to linger on the grass. Small children ran and laughed under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Lovers walked slowly, hand in hand, along the meandering paths that snaked through areas of shrubs bringing fleetingly private moments out of sight of prying eyes. Old people sat on the scattered benches letting the warmth seep into their ancient bones before the winter threatened.

She had seen it so many times before. She had walked the paths, felt the soft grass beneath her feet, rested on the benches so often. But today was different. She had set herself a goal. Self-imposed and totally unnecessary. Today she hid a secret. It would be so easy to turn around and retrace her steps and forget the whole thing. No one would ever know, or care. Except herself. She would have to admit to her own failure.

Just that thought renewed her determination. She mentally appraised her appearance. Even though she felt naked and vulnerable she was far from it. She was dressed like any other woman of her age, a soft silk blouse, in yellow with a faint flower motif and a pale grey full skirt of a respectable length. She felt it flutter against her legs as a sudden flurry of air disturbed the light cloth. On her feet were sandals protecting her naked feet from the harsh pavement. Often, she would take them off when she came to the park and walk barefoot across the mown grass, revelling in the tickling of the blades between her toes, her sandals dangling loosely from a crooked finger. But not today. Today was not the time for such frivolities.

Experimentally she clenched her bum cheeks and felt the hard but familiar feeling. She tried to recall when she had first tried a butt plug, but it was a lost memory. Something must have prompted her and whoever had first suggested it had a lot to be thanked for. She would have been nervous, even scared, that first time but the action hade chimed with something deep within her. She had worn it so many times around the house. It had become almost a friend. But, despite the long wait, this was the first time she had worn it outside.

She flexed her shoulders and lifted her head before taking her first step through the gate. A second step followed the first and then a third. Before she knew it, she was passing the first of the immature trees planted alongside the path. She had practised this walk many times, hidden in the safety of her home. but now she had witnesses, uninterested though they appeared to be.

At the second tree she paused again, half-turning to encompass the full vista of the park. In the distance she heard the sound of children playing on the swings and roundabouts. She could see the lovers meandering along the twisting paths, and the families sat on rugs with their picnics displayed before them. She smiled at the mundane ordinariness of them all. It made her feel special. Was she different, the only one with a hidden secret? She doubted it.

The lovers might be adulterers, the family groups might be hiding a torrent of problems. Suddenly she felt a kinship with the children. Their pleasures were equally innocent. They harmed no one. With this new insight she took another step along the path. She was more than ever conscious of the presence in her arse, each step hinting at the jewel between her cheeks. She blushed as she realised the effect it was having elsewhere.

She could feel the moisture seeping between her legs and she was thankful that she had chosen a long skirt for today's voyage into the unknown. She took a step off the hard path and moved onto the grass. She decided to indulge her old habit and knelt on one knee to unfasten her sandal. The action exaggerated the feel of the plug, and it took determination to resist the temptation to touch herself through her skirt. Pushing these thoughts aside she switched to the other knee. Rising to her feet, sandals in her hand, she wiggled her toes and let the neatly mown grass tickle the soles of her feet. Today was becoming a sensual overload.

With a new lightness of step, and her sandals swinging freely in one hand she walked across the grass. She ventured close enough to the blanket-spread families to overhear snippets of conversation. The urgent offerings of drinks or food to reluctant children, over-eager to get back to their play. The mutual grooming of a pair of lovers, feeding each other with unnaturally large strawberries flown from some exotic corner of the world. Solitary men, shirtless and pale, trying to soak up some of the sun.

She had gone from worrying about what they might think to not caring. She felt free and unrestrained. She was breaking the unwritten laws and was enjoying every moment. It seemed to her that her weight lifted until she could hardly detect the feeling of grass beneath her feet. She was almost floating as she crossed the grass. When she reached the far side, she paused again and knelt, replacing her sandals. She found an empty bench and sat down.

Unlike her other plug, the black silicone one that eased itself into her cleft and moulded itself to her shape, this one has hard and unforgiving. The edges of the jewelled base bit into her and she shifted from one buttock to the other, trying to spread herself wide enough to bring a degree of comfort. She was finding it impossible to find the right position and, nervous of bringing attention to herself, she stood up again. Standing and walking was easier.

She took the long circuitous route back to the entrance. At first, she told herself that she needed to be punished but soon realised that she was feeling the pleasure of her walk. Her nerves had gone, and she slowed to a gentle stroll, not caring what the onlookers might see. She looked around and no one seemed to be taking any notice of the woman dressed in her sunny best clothes out for a casual walk. When she got to the entrance she wondered for a moment if she should repeat her walk, but she felt she had achieved her purpose.

Back on the anonymity of the street she concentrated her thoughts on her plug, savouring each step. She also was distinctly aware of the dampness between her thighs and finally admitted to herself that she was aroused in a way she had never known before. Her steps took on new urgency. She was anxious to be in the privacy of her home. she needed to deal with this new feeling. Oblivious of the other people passing by she almost ran the last few yards, scrabbling for her key as she did so.

The click of the lock as she pushed her front door shut made her sigh and, for a moment, she leaned her back against it. She breathed deeply, hidden from the sight of the world. On trembling legs, she stepped into her bedroom, her hand clutched to the crook of her thighs through her skirt. She sat on the bed and unbuckled her sandals, kicking them haphazardly across the room, before standing and tugging at her skirt. Leaving it pooled on the floor she climbed onto the bed. It was much cooler inside the flat and she was instantly aware of chilling around her pussy. She reached behind her and jiggled her plug, reliving the last hour. Taking her weight on her head and chest, her other hand sought and found her clit. Just a touch was enough to send a shiver through her. She imagined, on her journey home, that she would take her time, prolong this moment, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own.

As she pulled on the plug and started to ease it out, she stroked her clit with a suddenly urgent finger. She came as her arse gave up its grip. She went to a place she had rarely if ever gone before. That peak of loneliness where only the ego mattered. That second or two at the height of an orgasm where nothing else existed. Then, slowly the real world returned. She rolled onto her back, one hand still nestled between her legs, the other still clutching the shiny silver plug. She looked at it, almost accusingly, as her fingers slipped easily along her labia and found their way inside her.

Her second orgasm was much further away than her first, but was still needed, maybe even more so. Her fingers slowly slid in and out of her cunt and her thumb stroked her clit with the lightness of a feather. With an infinite slowness she invited her orgasm in, coaxing it from the shadows, allowing it to have its flash of glory. Her fingers became quicker and her thumb more urgent and assertive. She dropped the plug onto the bed and reached around and stroked her anus. It still held the memory of the plug, and beyond her control her finger slipped inside. Then, for a second time, she came. She came, she gushed. The heady smell of her sex filled her nostrils. She revisited that solitary peak. That loneliest place on earth where only the ego existed.

Looking back, she thinks she must have fainted as she came too with a gap of memory. Slowly she managed to crawl beneath the covers, ignoring the darkened patch she left in her wake. She closed her eyes, snuggling into the warm embrace of the duvet. She thought back over her adventure. Would she do it again? If she did, would it spoil the magic of today? With that question unresolved she finally drifted off to sleep.