Sexy reader (and blogger) Liza wrote in asking for a dare set in an amusement park. She then proceeded to thoroughly surpass our erotic expectations. And now there’s more. As regular readers of this blog know, most of the sex “experiments” I “conduct” with my wife and others come in three parts: my dare, her response to the dare, and the overall “result” of the experiment (which is sometimes my more general thoughts about the experiment, and which hopefully includes me getting my brains fucked out). Thanks to the gracious and adventurous Liza, we now have a “result” written by her husband, who’s clearly as charming (and as horny) as she is (although wouldn’t you be charming too if you got to fondle Lizas on ferris wheels?). Here’s his debrief:
When Liza told me of her challenge to leave her panties on the ferris wheel, a feat that would be impossible due to security sweeps, I immediately took it upon myself to raise the stakes. That only seemed fair. If we couldn’t follow instructions to the letter, we should at least go one step beyond. Secretly sliding my fingers into her on the ferris wheel while we were in plain view of our companions on the ride and onlookers below was a new thrill. There was danger and intimacy and the feeling of pulling off the perfect crime (really perfect since no one got hurt and orgasms were had).
That sense of exhibitionism with a hint of danger was a real turn on, especially for Liza, my delightfully slutty exhibitionist wife. Minutes after the ferris wheel experience, I could tell she was aching for more fun, that publicly flirty side of her awakened. She sat on a sidewalk bench, her lace panties now lost to some street performer’s guitar case. I stood across from her with our camera. Liza posed on the bench, giving me a peek under her short skirt. I snapped photos of her bare pussy as pedestrians crossed to and fro behind her, all unaware of the private show I was getting right under their noses. There was never any chance her flash would be seen by another. But it turns out we have a very, very good camera.
A few days later, as Liza and I headed home in a cab, she sent me a text. “I want your fingers inside me.” Before Mr. X’s ferris wheel dare, I would have laughed. Maybe I would have texted her back, describing what I was going to do to her when we got back home. Instead, emboldened by the fact that the back of a cab is hardly as public as a ferris wheel, I reached up her skirt and slid my fingers inside her. As advertised, she was already sopping for me, ready for those fingers. I dipped them lightly in and out, gathering moisture, my range of motion limited by our position and her skirt. With my fingertips wet, I stroked her swollen clit as we drove through the nighttime streets, slowing my motion whenever we reached a red light and the cab grew quieter. This was more to hush her tell-tale moans than anything else.
It’s safe to say that things are going to be decidedly un-safe from now on. Thanks to the Sex Experiment, our bar for furtively public sex acts has been set sky high (both metaphorically and, in a sense, literally). I’m sure there will be many more to come (so to speak) and each time I’ll be sending a psychic thank you to Mr. X for opening this new door to us.
And every time I’m on a ferris wheel, Liza and D, I’ll think of your perfect sex crime and thank you.
Need to catch up? Read the Sex Experiment from the beginning: Table of Contents