It Used to Be Just ThinkingbySheThinks2Much©
"One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman. No biological, psychological, or economic fate determines the figure that the human female presents in society; it is civilization as a whole that produces this creature" ~Simone De Beauvior
A year ago, the nuances of this quote would have been lost upon me. There are people who think, there are people who do. For most of my life, I was a thinker. One day, everything changed in a very fundamental way. Suddenly, I was no longer -- just a thinker.
Exactly what does a thinker spend time thinking about? I guess that depends on just how far one is willing to her imagination wonder. My imagination, apparently, has no true limits.
A thinker could consider the fun to be a had on a group camping trip, skipping right over the daylight fun of hiking in the woods and not upsetting a canoe in angry, frothy river rapids. Instead, going directly to a scene of six people sitting comfortably near a blooming fire. A few too many cold beers in the sparkling dusty light cast upon them by the flames. Being the first to declare it way past bedtime and moving away from the group to a tent nestled somewhere among the group of three.
Lantern on, casting a dim light in the tent and slipping off her shoes before entering, her clothes immediately after. Settling on top of the soft sleeping bag because she is still warm from the fire, she closes her eyes drifts off only momentarily until she hears his footsteps approaching quietly.
As he enters, he wastes no times repeating her actions of just a few minutes before. He lays down beside her and begins to stroke her hair, to find out if she's really asleep. She opens her eyes and smiles approvingly, silently asking him to continue.
As he continues running his hands through her hair, taking it between his fingers and letting it slip slowly out from between them, she feels herself growing even warmer with the heat of his body so close. She leans to kiss him and as she does, she places one arm over his side, pulling him closer as she lifts her head away from his. Placing it on his chest, her hands begin to caress his body.
"I want you to fuck me," she whispers. "Now."
"Wow. With all of our friends just outside, aren't YOU a little worried they might hear us?"
"I hope they do," she returns.
With that, she rolled onto her left side, facing away from him. She reaches behind in the hope of guiding him into her already damn and wanting pussy, but he stops her.
"No. If we are going to do this, it's going to be my way. Get on your knees."
She complies easily, knowing that he always fucks her harder in this position. He was more than ready after her forward advance. As he kneels behind her and pushes inside, he realizes that he's not the only one. Still surprised that she would even allow him to fuck her here, within hearing range of their friends, he decides to give her exactly what she asked, even if she doesn't know it.
"Do you hear that?" A female voice in the group suddenly asked and the four people remaining by the fire lowered their voices to find out where the noise was coming from. A few seconds was all it took for them to recognize the sound of her whimpering as he buried himself deep into her ass, without warning. "Oh my god, look!"
That second call came from the other remaining woman, as she turned her head to the source of the sound. "I wonder if they realize that with that lantern behind them, we can see exactly what they are..."
"Fuck me harder!" This time, it wasn't a whisper. While she wasn't exactly screaming, the words carried clearly to the ears of their now onlooking friends. The group tried to quietly move closer, not wanting to interrupt, but anxious to watch their friends. The four had paired off naturally as they move their chairs closer, all four directly facing the illuminated tent.
"Do you think he's in her ass? Look how hard he's fucking her!" One of the women was thinking out loud, and the rest of the group seemed not to hear.
He pushed deeper intro her ass and she was having a hard time not collapsing as she pushed back into him, as if to ask for even more. His hands still worked her hair only now it was fistfuls and not nearly the gentleness that came before. One hand gripping her hair, forcing her head back as though he needed this to help him bury himself within her. The other hand scratching up and down her back slowly, both of them enjoying the reaction she had to this sensation. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," he told her as he pulled out and helped her turn onto her back.
As she rolled over, he quickly stuck two fingers deep inside her now sloppy wet pussy. He withdrew them to his mouth, licking her juices from them and them shoving them between her own lips. "Taste yourself, you are delicious."
As the crowd looked on, they could see him lower his head between her thighs. They saw her pull her legs up instinctively. "I'd like to hold those legs up, just so that I could get a closer view of that sweet ass."
Generally, this is about where the thinking stopped. Sometimes, it would go just little further with some foreplay on the outside. Once or twice, there was a screaming orgasm at the end. But sadly, the story usually came to an abrupt end thanks to my limited ability to draw it out longer.
A thinker might also consider the possibilities during an evening among friends, watching a football game. Gazing occasionally at the food covered table, wondering what would happen if someone were to suddenly bend her over that table, pushing the food back to keep her hair from falling into it.
"What are you doing! You can't do this here, not now!"
"What do you mean, I can't? Looks like I'm already doing it. I see two choices, enjoy it or don't. Really, I don't care either way."
As he fucked her from behind, her pussy dripping down her legs, she tried to act like she was not enjoying herself. But she was. And when one of his friends came closer, she pretended not to notice. And when he asked if he could fuck her, she said no -- meant yes, and not one guy in the room doubted her sincerity.
Yes, this is what thinkers think about. And if this is what thinkers think about, you might wonder what happens when a thinker becomes a doer. Well, it might not be quite what you would expect.
It's not an instant change, really. I think it takes years for someone like me to stop thinking and start doing. And I don't think it is a change that a woman can make on her own. I think it takes someone else to say that it is ok to stop just thinking, even if that someone else doesn't really know what it is that you were thinking in the first place. So what I was thinking didn't really matter so much. The point is that I did think about it, all the time. I thought about it while my fingers slowly circled my clit, slipping on and out of my pussy until it was so wet that a single finger would no longer have any real effect. I thought about it during some pretty boring sex when I tended to be thinking about something else entirely. I thought about it, a lot.
And then one day, he asked how I would like like it if another guy was in my ass while he fucked my wet pussy. How would I like it? "Oh, I don't know. It might be fun."
Probably those weren't the words I actually used. They definitely weren't the words in my mind, as I was thinking. "Let's see, I get fucked twice at the same time? By you? And someone else? Oh fuck yes. Can we do this tonight?" Now, that's a little more like it.
And then I started thinking. Perhaps too much? Maybe not enough. No, definitely enough. I still didn't think it was something that could happen. After all, where exactly does a woman find a guy willing to participate in something like that? No. It was just another scenario to consider, probably for years to come. But we kept talking about it.
His fist inside of me as a writhed under his talented tongue, my pussy exploding around his hand and later on his face. Over and over, these thoughts raced through my brain. "How I would love to see you do this to another woman."
And then it started all over again. The thinking. I'd had some brief experience with a woman, maybe even two. It wasn't the best experience, I think. It felt great. I had some of the best orgasms of my young life under her hands and her tongue. It was obvious that she was the experienced one, as I think back. She was, at the same time, soft and gentle, yet rough and I'm pretty sure she was the first person to ever grab my hair and use it to put me exactly where she wanted me. And I loved it. Every second of it. But I wasn't attracted to women in general, and well... This led to more thinking and that thinking became a little distracting. Eventually that ended, nicely just as it had started.
But I've thought about it.
I've though about it enough to want to try it again. "My fist inside of her? Yes, I must make this happen. I need to feel what you feel when you slowly insert one more finger and lower your mouth onto my wetness. I must know."
As I slipped a second finger inside of her wet pussy, after kissing her all over and rolling her soft nipples between my fingers, sucking them gently with my teeth occasionally biting just a bit harder than she expected... I wondered if you were watching. I didn't look. I was too intent on getting a third finger inside of her. It was tight, and wet and she was not resistant at all.
I know someone was watching. Was it you? I was sure by now that you'd come looking for us. You knew what I intended to do, or at least I was fairly sure. Fourth finger, she was grabbing on to me and having a hard time staying still. What it must have been like for you the first time you did this to me, I remember it so well. I couldn't stay still. It felt like you were tearing me apart from the inside. I never wanted it to end. If I could read her thoughts, I would hope she was enjoying it like I do.
I pushed the last finger in and I knew exactly what to do as my thumb instinctively curled against my palm and I pushed inside of her with as much gentleness as I could. I know how it feels to have a fist just slammed inside of me. Although I love that, I wasn't so sure that would be the right way to do this. So I licked her. Her lips, her clit, my hand. I made it wet. And then I saw my hand disappear inside her. I saw you standing there. I saw others standing there. I knew you wouldn't disapprove, and I hoped it was making you want to join us. I waved you in. You weren't alone.
I looked up a few times and saw some awe covered faces peering from the doorway. I motioned for two of them to come in. He asked if it would be ok...
That's one of the moments that I knew that I was no longer just a thinker. In my thoughts, she said no and meant yes. In reality, I said yes and I meant it. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to do it with you standing there watching, encouraging even. In all of those thoughts I'd had for so long, there was never encouragement. There was fear. If there wasn't, I might have actually shared what I was thinking. But I didn't.
And maybe you were amazed that I'd not only invited a stranger to watch, but I'd opened myself to him and said yes when he asked if it would be ok for him to fuck me.
"Oh fuck yes. Please!"
And you know he won't be the last. And you know she won't be the last. And the best part about all of it, is that I no longer have to think of those old scenarios that would have never actually happened. I could probably make them reality now, if I really wanted to. But they were real. They were never real.
You, fucking me, in front of anyone who happens to walk by. That is real. You fucking her, while I watch and lick her as before you cum inside of it. That is real. A DP in a dark room, with the door open and me screaming and you opening the door further and asked, "who wants to be next?" That is real and requires no thinking.
Sometimes, more than anything, it's nice not to have to think so much.