Playing Around the Water Ch. 02

Thanks P_Anderer for editing!

After that delicious incident on the park bench, I half-expected things would change somehow: either she'd become embarrassed by stepping over the line (well, some line anyway), or we'd be taking it all to some next level. Neither has happened, and we seemed both to like it this way. We still met only at the spring, three or four times a week; we still were comfortable talking to each other on a wide range of topics--from books and travels to body matters and sex; she still played her little games in the changing room, showing me her slim young body from various angles and positions. Though, something did change after my cautious question--and even then, not on our next meeting, only in a week or so, when she raised the topic herself.

That day, her changing room game was outstandingly long: she spent maybe several minutes completely naked, just sitting on a bench pretending to answer something urgent on her phone. I knew she just pretended: she was casting glances at me and made sure my eyes were caught by a space between her slightly spread legs--still teasing, still I could see nothing except the hair. After she finally got dressed and we walked our usual route through the park, she pointed at the bench where we sat 'that' night and with sudden tenderness said, "Oh, this place... I still dream of it."

"So," I asked, getting the sense that the topic was open for discussion, "How was it for you?"

"Incredible," she said brightly. "Better than I could've imagined. The weirdness of it added a hundred percent to the pleasure!"

And that quick exchange seemed to lower some barriers in her, because on our next meetings she started to talk about it, too: how she likes to be half- or fully aroused in "weird" situations, "You know, not always go all the way, but..." She talked about how she is constantly searching for new ways of touching and feeling herself and her enthusiasm for subtly different experiences every time. She got carried away sometimes sharing those experiences so that I even needed to shush her when there were other people around. You never know who might understand English here, and a lot of people could've noticed the profound gestures she sometimes made.

At first, she shared just some simple things she did to herself at home, but in very precise detail.

Like, she might have said, "Yesterday, just before sleep, it was whole four fingers, so deep, so cool, almost an hour. Very slow and such a powerful orgasm!"

"How many fingers do you usually use?" I might've asked then.

"It was usually two some time ago... But recently, it is almost always at least three. I am tight, but I like to push things a bit further!"

"Yeah, I've noticed," I smiled slyly.

At other times, she just casually shared--between talks about books or some new cafe she found in the city center--mere facts, like "Today, in the early morning, I did myself with a shower, quick and fun." Or, "It's THAT day of the cycle, I am planning a masturbation fest for the evening! Will see how many orgasms I can bring myself to," and, the next day, "It was five! Can you believe that?"

Later, she started to share more peculiar adventures. I don't know whether she was just shy talking about that initially, or she actually just started to experiment, but anyway, it was pleasant to know the things she could think of.

"Today, at the lecture in my university, I was at the very last table and had my backpack on my knees. I didn't even plan anything naughty, just noticed my left hand in my jeans, just sat this way till the end of the lecture, played with my clit lightly."

Or, on another day, "I was in a fitting room in that large mall's jeans section, and they have such an awesome mirror and cool lighting. I did almost nothing, I swear... I just took my panties down, put two fingers in my vagina, and another one, you know... 'in there'. Just showed off a bit, for myself; it looked so exciting."

("Oh, so she likes to play with 'there' too," I thought to myself, "With her ass." You see, I did want to know everything about her sexuality.)

She also enhanced and varied her games in the spring. She could put on, for example, very tight and thin pants and a thin sweater on naked skin, no underwear, then cover herself with the coat (that same coat!) and go for a walk. Then she allowed the coat to fall open when only I could see--from a very close distance--her pants are unbuttoned and show a fair bunch of her pubic hair, and her nipples are erect and clearly visible through the sweater. And I still needed to continue the conversation, in the meantime!

She changed her previous full swimsuit to the new one, made of thin straps and small triangles to cover just a mound and breasts.

"Oh, it was a fun purchase," she delivered matter-of-factly, "I knew you aren't supposed to do that when trying swimsuits, but I knew I'd buy this one, so I got completely naked in the fitting room, then put it on, and just masturbated through the panties, to a very quiet ending."

With this new garment, she could now play new games: when there were few people around, the top slipped 'accidentally' when she stood from the pool, showing me a nipple; or, she 'adjusted' her bottoms in front of me, teasing with a hint of hair, or even a quick glimpse of something pink. Other times, she tugged the panties up till the crease was formed between her legs and even stealthily ran a finger through this crease.

She seemed to love her new swimsuit and once came to the spring already wearing it--under the coat, with nothing else. She admitted she walked like that through the city and even rode on a bus: nobody saw anything, but she felt pleasantly indecent. That same day, on my advice, she walked back from the park just in her lacy underwear under that coat; naturally, in a few days, she went off in just her coat, with nothing underneath whatsoever.

I really got into her casual masturbation talks and even managed to give her small ideas sometimes. And sometimes, not such small ones. I asked once that she never mentioned playing with objects--inside or outside herself.

She regretfully admitted she missed it: "I had a full drawer of sex toys at home but traveling with them is too awkward. I planned to find some local online sex shop with an English interface and with mail delivery, probably, but haven't yet gathered the courage."

"It's a pity," I agreed, and then hesitantly asked: "have you tried just some everyday objects? Probably you can find something that will entertain you quite easily, even without the sex shops?"

She seemed genuinely surprised with the idea: "How come I never thought of that myself? Well, I started to really explore my sexuality when I was grown-up and confident enough to just walk into the sex shop... But now that you mention it, I will probably look at things. It's weird, but weird in a good sense!"

And right the next time we met, she casually greeted me with a big grin and words: "Cucumber! And a shampoo bottle!"

I laughed with surprise: "Do you really think it sounded inconspicuous for anybody knowing a few words in English?"

She attempted to look self-conscious but then just laughed back: "OK, I'll share the details later!"

"Looking forward to it!"

Probably to get herself in the mood for "sharing the details," she again went bottomless: bra, thin sweater, high boots, and a coat: but now much lighter one than on the previous occasions, as the temperature just jumped up a few cozy degrees. So, I followed her through the park two steps behind to admire how the thin coat clung to her firm bottom. Even though I have just seen that same bottom hidden only by a swimsuit, and then completely naked, seeing her in public, in daylight, all those curves under one layer of the coat--that was something special.

It was a Saturday, with no work or university to rush to, and we sat on one of the park benches to chat for a bit--about the latest book I suggested to her (which she liked) and then about her latest escapades, of course.

She reported without a hint of shyness and totally straightforwardly: "So, I just bought several cucumbers not to look suspicious. Then choose the nicest one--not huge, but on a bigger side... Probably size of the biggest toy I had at home, and my favorite!"

"And then what did you do? I want to know everything," I encouraged, trying to keep my tone light. I hoped she'd understand what I really meant is I am happy to know everything she is comfortable sharing. Oh, and also, I really hoped for those details, but I didn't want to put pressure on her.

And she continued, equally lightly, "Nothing too complicated. I was already wet by the time I dropped my pants and sat in my favorite computer chair. For a few minutes, I just probed myself with it, and it felt... interesting, in a good way! Not like something I've already tried, all those tiny pimples and uneven shape. I was so wet, and it was so interesting, it took just a few minutes for it to be inside me as deep as it was possible--and it was long, too, so part of it was still outside. Then I removed my hands from it, and just rolled my hips in the chair, and pushed it with my... you know, inside muscles, rolled forward, so it entered deeper, then rolled backward and pushed it out, but not fully out," she now explained in quick succession. I noticed she rolled on her hips forward and backward slightly, like demonstrating what she had done, but without anything inside (probably! But with this girl, I wasn't sure).

But then she caught herself, and giggled and proceeded more calmly, "Well, that's all I did, but I did it for a long time, and the orgasm was mighty, but I tried to continue the motions, it is hard but feels nice if you continue what you did before it started!"

"Yeah, know the feeling," I blurted, somewhat out of place.

"And with the shampoo bottle, it was just a morning quickie in the shower. I didn't even plan it; just after our discussion, I started to look at every item in my house, considering briefly, 'can I?' The bottle was small and flat, and I just grabbed it at some point and tried to insert it. It fitted nicely, but instead of moving it in and out, I just tried to rotate it, you know. And in standing position, it managed to stimulate something inside me with each rotation, and I came quickly, and I laughed when I came because I thought that it was like I was screwing something inside myself... I am screwing myself, get it?"

I got it and laughed together with her. When we started towards the bus stop, I went a step behind her again to observe her ass and noticed a wet spot on her coat. The benches were dry, so the wetness must have been her own; the talking had obviously seriously turned her on. I said nothing about the spot, and we parted in a good mood.

Apparently, she was turned on, and that wasn't all for that day.

Just a few days ago, we exchanged our messenger contacts to make it easier to arrange meetings. And in half an hour from our parting the ways, my messenger chimed with a message from her: "Phew, finally came!"

"You came home?" I clarified innocently.

She was all but innocent: "I came home yes, and I came AT home. I am standing in my flat, still clothed, with a banana in my pussy, and I came nicely, too!" And then she even sent a photo. It shows no private parts, but sexy as hell: the camera shows her from the neck down, indeed in her coat and boots, but with a tip of banana peeking out between the coat folds.

Since that day, the messenger has become another vehicle for our conversation and our games. It was hardly frequent--more like a substitution when we haven't met for several days due to her busy spring studying schedule. Even less frequently, it was something sexy or teasing; mostly, we just exchanged some jokes, life news, or interesting links. But sometimes she got into the mood for a quick tease, just text, no more photos (that is, until much later), something as matter-of-factly stated as she liked to do.

"Busy day," she might write, answering my greeting, "too much study, my head was so heavy. But it is better now, and I am touching myself to relax."

"Cool," I'd answer, "and how exactly are you doing it?"

"Passionately," she'd say and send "tongue stick out" teasing emoji, "with both hands, actually! I managed to stick three fingers from both hands inside, not very deep though, but feel so awesomely full."

"Wait there!" I'd interjected, "how are you typing it then?"

"Caught me out!" One more emoji. "I am typing it with very wet hands and feeling very empty right now! So I'll be silent for some time... But you can write me something... Entertaining"

And I'd entertain her with some imaginary tale, and after some time, she'd just type "Thanks! That big O is dedicated to you! Good night."

Another evening, she mentioned (after a good half hour discussion about a recent movie) that all this time, she sat naked from the waist down and had a cucumber inside her and just orgasmed. "It felt naughtier today that you do not know until the end."

"BTW, you said you are living with your sister? Didn't she notice? Or she is not at home?"

"Why yes, she is right here, at the other end of the room, studying her math. But she doesn't mind."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We were always very close and never minded. She might actually," the message came half-written, and then the next one in a few seconds, "yeah, she has one hand inside her shorts definitely. Not the first time we have done it, we are very close, I've said."

"Just masturbating together?"

"Well, rarely actually 'together', like looking at each other and deciding to do it... But in the same room, yes. Or are you asking if we did anything else?"

"I kinda am!"

"No, not actually. She is into girls, all right, but I am totally straight. So, it is just cozy sisterly masturbation."

Another time at the Spring, I suddenly thought about asking her: does she get aroused when we are at the park? I mean, she obviously liked to play for me, but I wanted to hear something more definite about her senses and bodily reactions--and, maybe, provoke some more games.

"Oh, I do!" she confirmed. As I'd expected, changing room games aroused her irresistibly, but also there were some details I had not expected.

"When I go down by steps into the pool," she explained, "the moment when I touch the cold water with my... well, let's say panties--is always like a small explosion. And then, while I am underwater, face-down, I just brush my vagina lightly over my panties while nobody can see anything. Or, sometimes, I brush it inside them," she smiled playfully.

And indeed, I started to notice now--or maybe she started to do it more obviously for my benefit--that slight pause and the change of the facial expression when her panties touched the water for the first time. And I also noticed when she dived that one or sometimes two hands were underneath her, but I couldn't see what they did.

When I mentioned it, she said very casually, "Oh, I just open myself, like that," and did a definitive gesture spreading two fingers in the air--the gesture that looked all but casual for me, increasing my own arousal, "the feeling of cold clear water at the entrance is incomparable to anything else."

It was a good thing that we were fully dressed and walking when that happened, or my erection might've caused some public embarrassment.

Once, she mentioned it would probably be awesome to give herself a quick orgasm in the changing room "that nobody would notice... or, almost nobody." And, as it happened with our ideas and half-jokes, since mentioning that, she started to play with the idea. Sometimes when she was dressing, I now noticed she dipped a finger or two inside herself, pretending to "smoothing out the panties" or "just drying off". Other times, when there was nobody in the other part of the changing room, she would just stop and masturbate: standing near the bench, one hand on a towel to quickly cover herself if somebody entered, another with two fingers in the vagina and a thumb on clit, moving quickly.

Twice she didn't manage to finish before she had to cover herself, because somebody came to the changing rooms--those times, after getting dressed as loosely as possible (just jeans, sweater, and boots, no socks, no underwear) she almost ran to the park's bathroom and finished there.

"I didn't need to do anything, actually," she said, "once my hand was inside my jeans and inside myself, that was that."

But one time, she managed to finish right there, in front of me, semi-public and still invisible for anybody else, in total silence but shivering big time.

But the weirdest--and as it happened, most delightful and memorable--moment of that spring was yet to come.

It was a gray cloudy morning, and after waking up, I messaged her whether she planned to come; there was rain forecast all day.

"But I want to!" and she added a pouting emoji. "You said you loved to swim in the rain, and I want to try it, too! And I have some other ideas..."

The story she mentioned was about me swimming in the warm sea, under the summer rain--probably wouldn't be so nice now. But, how could I not go, especially if she "had ideas"?

The rain indeed started a few minutes before we arrived at the park. It was a typical mid-spring one, not very strong at first, but persistent and promising to be long, and not too warm. But I wasn't bothered: the not-too-warm rain meant the rest of the swimmers hurried away, and we had the Spring to ourselves. We quickly changed and went for a dive. I just went in and out quickly, but she took her time, considering nobody was waiting in line. She seemed to enjoy the unique combination of water in the pool and the water from above--which, indeed, was pleasant, if chilling. She splashed, jumped, giggled, swam a few laps back and forth, and several times, I noticed, put a hand inside her panties, and, judging by the movement, deep inside herself.

Finally, she climbed out of the pool slowly, teasingly. On the pool steps, she started to fix her swimsuit ties which had come loose and flashed me one erect nipple, but instead of fixing it, she 'accidentally' untied it, so it dropped on the ground. I mean, it was a very severe accident: both parts of the swimsuit got untied simultaneously, and she, stark naked, ran to the changing room, giggling at my awe. Seeing her naked there in the open in daylight, if only for a few moments, felt totally surreal--or, to be precise, even more surreal than our usual encounters.

I collected her swimsuit and quickly went to women's changing room entrance--even with no people around, I felt that it was an unspoken agreement for me to pretend that I was outside and would behave decently, and it just so happened I could see her naked. I expected she'd start implementing her "ideas" now, in the changing room, but she just got quickly dressed--too cold, probably, to continue the game? The clothes, though, were of note: it was a thin and skin-tight sports suit with no underwear, which immediately got wet from her body, as she didn't even bother to dry with a towel. She looked almost as naked dressed as without any piece of clothing: the bumps of her still-erect nipples were visible, and almost every pubic hair and the crease between her legs.

"Get dressed!" she commanded, "I want to walk for a bit."

We walked towards the further parts of the park, where it was turning into a small forest. Still, nobody was around; still, the rain poured, becoming stronger and, it seemed to me, warmer. She was in a great mood and talked about all kinds of things, both regular ("what seaside town in the country you'd suggest in summer?") and naughty ("I told my sister about the cucumbers, she tried and asked me to say thanks!").