The men who didn’t yet have the special OM lubricant were at the sales table buying some. A newcomer may think – as I did, “they have their own branded lube? Come on!” But not all lubricants are made alike. Some are full of unkind chemicals and the vagina – mine, yours, whomever has one – deserves only the best. The ingredients in OM lubricant are very pussy friendly – olive oil, beeswax, shea butter and grape seed oil. (I’m told it’s good for chapped lips, too.)
Armed with lube, the men were now responsible for setting up a nest out of a blanket ad some pillows that they schlepped from their cars earlier in the day. At this point there was a chaotic mix of couples preparing to OM and those attendees who were still milling around chatting.
Once the nest was ready-to-go, there was nothing left to do but for the women to take off their pants. “Excuse me! Hello?” I didn’t say out loud but wanted to. “Talkers who aren’t about to OM, can you clear the room? I’m about to show my privates over here – a little privacy, please!” And the talkers were still talking – may I be so bold: Get the fuck out! At last, the facilitators told the hangers-on to skedaddle.
A woman I know – an acquaintance – was set up not far from me. Our eyes met as if to say, “Are we really about to do this?” Aware of the absurdity of the moment, I pulled down my leggings and panties and quickly laid myself into the nest. My OM partner was also my lover – the last time he had a deep glance into my pudendum was that very morning. So I didn’t have to deal with the wild vulnerability of a new pair of eyes on my pink parts.
But doing such a private act in a big group – that was the challenge. I decided that I would be able to navigate it more easily knowing that each couple would be very focused doing their own thing. In a way this would create a curtain of privacy between us and anyone else.
What I didn’t realize was that a few group facilitators would be milling around offering assistance. They were making sure each couple had lube, gloves and a hand towel. One of these helpers was a man. “Are y’all going to sit down maybe when we get started?” I wondered. And the answer was No.
I was on my back; there were pillows on either side of my body onto which I was supposed to rest my knees. It was time for me to “butterfly” them open, and this fricking guy was a free radical in the room. I separated my legs gritting my teeth with exposure and anger.
My partner was seated with his leg over my belly protectively. He was motivated to do his best and ready to get down to the business of stroking me in just the right way. I did like his leg there – it was like a comforting seat belt. It was also obstructing my view of the lower half of my body. There I was – the upper half – dressed and all was normal. Then there was the part I couldn’t see below – waving in the wind in this public arena.
The man facilitator was in charge of guiding the experience. He had a timer and was giving step-by-step instructions. I wanted to punch him. In the meanwhile, my guy was massaging my legs per the technique and it felt quite nice. He lubed two fingers and put his thumb at the base of the entrance of my vagina. Whoa that’s nice. The instructions required that my partner should keep his thumb there the whole time. I concurred.
We’ve entered the quiet portion of the experience. My meditation was simply to feel his finger and focus on the sensation. The facilitators were going from couple to couple, offering tips and answering questions. I try my best to accept that both of them – including that damn guy – were there to help. My partner had an intuitive touch, yet I got this frustrated feeling: wrong spot wrong spot wrong spot!
The guy facilitator made his way to us and asked my partner if he had any questions. The two of them settle in for a consultative chat while looking into my pussy. The unforgettable snapshot of these men in a diagnostic discussion about my clit was hilarious. I decided that all was well in this strange world.
The facilitator called out that we had two more minutes. I got most turned on at this point – perhaps my vagina was relieved knowing that the experience was nearly over.
Thanks for the share . . . hilarious! . . . and warmly erotic. What an adventure! Kinky, romantic, absurd, and serene.