The Ladies Restroom

Ladies restrooms vary in quality, much as men’s do, I imagine. But I suspect they serve a far wider set of purposes. 

Social centre.  We gossip and chatter in these places. The Lovely Chris tells me silence reigns supreme in men’s restrooms. There’s also a rule of NEVER looking at the man next to you while taking a pee. True, we are locked away in our own little compartment, but given the way every woman checks every other woman they meet out, I have no doubt that if our lavatories weren’t neatly partitioned away, we would be chatting away and checking one another out, and it’s not unheard of that we carry on cross-cubicle conversations too. If we went there with a friend, the inner sanctum of the ladies' restroom is a venue for us to talk about our partners, when we last got laid, by whom, and all manner of highly personal things, including our last period, our next period, our current period, our horniness, and it’s not just among friends, sometimes others join in too! You wonder why we take so long in the restrooms? That’s why! We may have met someone to talk to! 

Natural Functions. Again, we do more. Guys pee and poo, (and wank, if my nose is to be relied upon) and so do we, but we also manage periods, dispose of used towels and tampons (and there are various methods of doing that, from little disposal bags and bins to incinerators) and touch up makeup. Sometimes we may discard underwear too. Better to discard torn pantyhose or semen-filled panties than to keep the evidence around sometimes.

But also…. We masturbate! Yes, I know, so do guys, but I suspect that if a guy was having a nice wank, and someone entered the next stall and also began a nice wank, it’s somewhat off-putting. Not so with us! We get off on one another’s pleasure. At least, I do, and I suspect many other girls do too. Some are quiet, or at least as quiet as they can be, while others moan or swear, and sometimes, you can even hear an unmistakable buzzing sound! Actually, the number of women who carry around a discrete ‘pocket rocket’ is a lot higher than you may imagine! 

Voyeurism.  Rare….very very rare, but it happens. You’re sitting there, you’ve just had a pee and your clit is making herself known. Maybe a quick cum? Why not. The cubicle door next door goes and you hear it lock. Bugger! Oh well, you can cum quietly. So you start, but then you realise the woman next door is doing the same thing, but is trying to attract attention. Maybe her knee is knocking against the partition. Maybe she’s making no attempt to keep quiet. 

Now, while we don’t tend to have full-on glory holes, (more’s the pity) there may well be small viewing holes, usually stuffed with toilet paper. So you pull a stopper out and have a look. She’s heard you remove the stopper and she’s looking right back at you. Maybe she presses her mouth close to the hole and whispers an urgent, “Watch me?” 

(Sidebar) Did you know public restrooms are now built to standards? The doors have to be able to be unlocked from the outside, and be lifted vertically off their hinges in case someone collapses against them. They also must have a gap above and below the partitions. In some restrooms, the manufacturers have used as little material as possible and the doors are taller than the side partitions.

Which means if you’re certain the rest of the restroom is empty, a shorty like me can stand on the lavatory and peek over into the next cubicle.  

Which is what I did. No vibrator, just a woman, mid 20s, panties (heavily creamed in) round her ankles, knees spread wide, and the handle of a hairbrush fucking her. Her head was back against the rear wall, but her gorgeous wide, almost circular brown eyes never for a moment left mine. Her mouth was uttering the same mantra over and over, “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She had no way of knowing I would happily have joined her and done that exact thing using her hairbrush. All she wanted was to be watched….I know that feeling so well. So…I watched.

Strange isn’t it? Something that starts off as the most private, secretive of actions, for some of us mutates into something that we like to be watched doing. In my case, I’ve worked out what it is. A) I love the exhibitionism, but B) I like thinking about how turned on the person watching me, male or female, is becoming. Watching sex, breeds sex…otherwise porn wouldn’t work! 

My nameless friend in the cubicle was close now, her, “Fuck me,” becoming less regular and more ragged. I wonder who she was thinking about…maybe no one. We are quite capable of masturbating over the abstract of being fucked without a specific person in mind. Or maybe, she just wanted someone to watch her doing something ‘dirty’.

I have a friend whose parents couldn’t have been any more religious if they’d been the Holy Family themselves! Catherine was forced to endure 6:00 am mass EVERY single day. There was bible readings at home, grace before and after meals, evening prayers, the Angelus, the blessed rosary….everything you could imagine….and, of course NO SEX of any kind. Which is why Catherine developed a taste for me to watch her get herself off. She couldn’t do it at home, of course, so my bedroom became the only venue, and I was the only person she trusted. At first, she would ask for a cup of tea and when I returned, she would look flushed, and my nose detected the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s vagina. Eventually, this changed to her rubbing herself off over her panties while I fussed around the room or bathroom, but quite quickly, she was not only comfortable doing it with her panties round her ankles, but with me watching from the bed. No, she never showed any interest in any form of g/g sex, she just wanted…eventually, needed to be watched doing something that had been instilled in her as ‘dirty’. Watching her masturbate was amazing. Of everything she did, it was her face that fascinated me most. There was a desperation to cum there, an insatiable need to spread her legs, expose herself and be as dirty in my bedroom as she was forbidden from being at home.

One day, she said (after the event), “Sometimes, I feel like I could squirt!” So the next time, I lay some towels down and told her she could squirt, pee, anything she wanted. Watching her thrust her hips forward and actually push was beautifully erotic. I saw her perineum bulge as if she was actually trying to expel something. When she came a thin arc of squirt left her (which I would have given anything to have been on my knees with my mouth open to collect) and she had by far the biggest and longest orgasm she’d ever had. 

Catherine went on to self-explore, touching her bum hole, even fingering it. She was hesitant about putting anything in, or even remotely near her vagina in case somehow she broke her hymen and Mum would find out. 

I totally get that girl in the cubicle. Being watched by a complete stranger is a truly erotic feeling. I should know, I love it myself. Women (I believe) are designed by nature to attract. Our curves of hips, tummy and tits are easy on the eye, but we also have our scent too. Our natural vaginal secretions don’t need to have any smell, yet nature has decreed that they do. 

Men, too, are designed to attract. Muscles, height, physical strength, all of which say, “Mate with me!” Men also have a sexual scent. While their penises don’t leak 24/7/365 there is a scent, semen has a scent, precum has a scent. (If their penises DO leak 24/7, probably best to stay away!) 

Now, lastly we are into “Anna’s theory of sex”. This may be a ‘thing’, or it may be purely my wishful thinking, anyway, here goes. 

Us girls are in a club. It starts with those whispered, furtive questions among one another about periods and such. It’s a rite of passage, and forms part of the sisterhood among girls. 

So it’s not surprising, says my theory, that girls retain something of a bond with other girls throughout their lives. For some it’s so small it becomes intangible, while for others it’s a ‘thing’ that they accept and know about. For a few, it means an openness to sexual activity with other girls. (That would be me.) We’re also far more tactile than guys I think. We hug, kiss, touch, way more…so it’s hardly surprising that these hugs, kisses and touches sometimes go much, much further. 

We are almost in autumn now, and winter won’t be far away. This isn’t nature's natural reproductive time. (Unless you’re a hibernating bear) but the signs of sex are there for those who have eyes to see. In the spring, there will be an emergence of short skirts, tight tops and some girls will take another step or two along the road. 

My business interests seem to have achieved critical mass. I’m about to open my fourth pole dancing club and have had interest from a major leisure company in buying me out. Similarly, the pubs are going great guns, and breweries who couldn’t wait to be rid of them now want them back, but I have no interest whatsoever in selling…for any price. I have plenty of eye candy in all my venues, and although I am strictly ‘hands off’ with the staff, a girl can dream….and masturbate. We have uniforms, changing rooms and full laundry facilities on every site. So what if there might be a pair of panties in the overnight wash….so what if a girl might come to work ‘commando’ and leave a pleasant mark on her jeans which I might find? All’s fair in….er….lust. 

Yesterday, at one of the pubs, a barmaid…in fact, the least likely barmaid in the history of barmaids gave me every ‘come on’ signal imaginable... from sitting in a way that showed me a very moist pair of panties, to talking about her positively arid sex life, to turning on the tears, getting a hug from me and just so happening to place a hand near my boob. At one point, she turned her face up towards me and I was within a hairs-breadth of kissing her! Had I done so, I have no doubt we’d be down in the cellars tearing each other's clothes off in a heartbeat. The point is, people send signals. But rarely if ever do they send just one. 

Watch for the signals. They are there to be seen.