MissLabelled’s Sunday Story Time

Narrator: And now back to our regular programming

Two things before jumping in. First, this photo is not from the night in question (there are no photos of that night) but I imagine I looked much like this in the morning. Second, this story isn’t about exploring anything new, it’s just a story of a night that happened. Simply for fun.

——

We’re in Montreal, for a concert that has been cancelled. While bummed that the show didn’t in fact go on, we made the best of it. We were in Montreal, there is plenty to do here. As luck would have it, there was a dance for queer women that night and we shifted our plans to make that our evening out.

The weather was warm, I was wearing a skirt and a halter top, sneakers (we were supposed to be at a concert after all) and we made our way to a restaurant before going to the club. Once done, with a slight buzz from the red wine, we walked around for a bit, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, and then called an Uber to take us to the aptly named Cherry Bomb party.

There was no line up which took us a bit by surprise and we feared this would be a dud of a party but you could hear the music pumping and I really wanted to dance so we walked passed the bouncer, presented our tickets to the attendant, and made our way inside. There was a sea of people, beautiful, sexy, people. We took it all in, made our way to the bar and with a drink in hand, got on the dance floor.

The music felt as though it was pumping my heart in time with the beat. Beautiful bodies were everywhere around us, the smell of different perfumes, hands caressing, skin against skin, it was precisely where I wanted to be in that moment. I could feel my partner against me, her hands pulling me close as I pressed my ass into her. She tilted my head back and nibbled on my neck and then spun me around so she could kiss me. After a couple of hours of dancing, she leaned in close, put her mouth against my ear and said “How’s my baby girl?” I looked at her and simply nodded. She took my hand and led me out of the club and we returned to the hotel.

Once inside the room, her carnality was no longer being contained. She stripped me naked, slapped my ass and growled get on the bed, on your stomach, and face away from me. I did as I was told, kind of, because I never do exactly as I am told. I got on the bed, with my chest pressed against the sheets but my ass in the air, wiggling it in her direction. “You’re just asking for it now, and I am going to give it to you!” I whimpered as I heard her buckle the straps of her harness, and shivered in excitement as I felt her come up onto the bed.

She knelt behind me and I could feel the dildo brush against my thigh. She spanked me a few times, letting me know that was for disobeying but she didn’t alter the position I was in. She caressed my ass, a little tenderness after the smacks, ran her fingers down towards my pussy and pushed two of them inside of me. I moaned as she pumped her fingers in me and soon I could feel her shifting behind me. “I’m going to fuck you baby girl, and I’m not stopping until your legs go weak and you collapse on the bed!”

And then the night turned into morning, I had collapsed long ago, and we woke up, the strap in a pile on the floor along with our clothes, little reminders, along with the slight tenderness in my pussy, of the night before. I turned to face her, kissed the tip of her nose, and simply said “Thanks daddy!” She smiled, and we both fell back into sleep.


👀
 
*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.
I know what it’s like to have a bad relationship with a father, although my circumstances were way different. My dad was an addict and he let his addictions win. The 23rd of this month was the second anniversary of his death. We never really got to put things right, and he never apologized for the lifetime of neglect and psychological abuse. It’s a strange thing to be a forty-seven year old man and still desperate for a father’s approval. I’m glad I have my father-in-law.

I should add that when my spouse came out as trans, my in-laws never even considered turning their backs on him. He’d be the first one to say how lucky he was. I wish all coming out experiences were like that.

You have a choice in front of you. You can accept the apology and work towards forgiving him, or not. You need to figure out what is going to be best for you and your own emotional wellbeing. Don’t let anyone manipulate you into forgiving if you’re not ready.

I don’t know what you went through, and I’m not even going to try to compare my experiences for yours. I can’t imagine it was easy. I know I’m just some random guy online who you have had absolutely zero interactions with, but please know that I’m pulling for you. Do what’s best for you.
 
Narrator: And now back to our regular programming

Two things before jumping in. First, this photo is not from the night in question (there are no photos of that night) but I imagine I looked much like this in the morning. Second, this story isn’t about exploring anything new, it’s just a story of a night that happened. Simply for fun.

——

We’re in Montreal, for a concert that has been cancelled. While bummed that the show didn’t in fact go on, we made the best of it. We were in Montreal, there is plenty to do here. As luck would have it, there was a dance for queer women that night and we shifted our plans to make that our evening out.

The weather was warm, I was wearing a skirt and a halter top, sneakers (we were supposed to be at a concert after all) and we made our way to a restaurant before going to the club. Once done, with a slight buzz from the red wine, we walked around for a bit, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, and then called an Uber to take us to the aptly named Cherry Bomb party.

There was no line up which took us a bit by surprise and we feared this would be a dud of a party but you could hear the music pumping and I really wanted to dance so we walked passed the bouncer, presented our tickets to the attendant, and made our way inside. There was a sea of people, beautiful, sexy, people. We took it all in, made our way to the bar and with a drink in hand, got on the dance floor.

The music felt as though it was pumping my heart in time with the beat. Beautiful bodies were everywhere around us, the smell of different perfumes, hands caressing, skin against skin, it was precisely where I wanted to be in that moment. I could feel my partner against me, her hands pulling me close as I pressed my ass into her. She tilted my head back and nibbled on my neck and then spun me around so she could kiss me. After a couple of hours of dancing, she leaned in close, put her mouth against my ear and said “How’s my baby girl?” I looked at her and simply nodded. She took my hand and led me out of the club and we returned to the hotel.

Once inside the room, her carnality was no longer being contained. She stripped me naked, slapped my ass and growled get on the bed, on your stomach, and face away from me. I did as I was told, kind of, because I never do exactly as I am told. I got on the bed, with my chest pressed against the sheets but my ass in the air, wiggling it in her direction. “You’re just asking for it now, and I am going to give it to you!” I whimpered as I heard her buckle the straps of her harness, and shivered in excitement as I felt her come up onto the bed.

She knelt behind me and I could feel the dildo brush against my thigh. She spanked me a few times, letting me know that was for disobeying but she didn’t alter the position I was in. She caressed my ass, a little tenderness after the smacks, ran her fingers down towards my pussy and pushed two of them inside of me. I moaned as she pumped her fingers in me and soon I could feel her shifting behind me. “I’m going to fuck you baby girl, and I’m not stopping until your legs go weak and you collapse on the bed!”

And then the night turned into morning, I had collapsed long ago, and we woke up, the strap in a pile on the floor along with our clothes, little reminders, along with the slight tenderness in my pussy, of the night before. I turned to face her, kissed the tip of her nose, and simply said “Thanks daddy!” She smiled, and we both fell back into sleep.
I love your description of the club and your smile says everything. ❤️
 
I happened upon this literary masterpiece.
Besides being beautiful on the outside. Your words and stories are soo powerful, yet relatable if that is possible.
 
Narrator: And now back to our regular programming

Two things before jumping in. First, this photo is not from the night in question (there are no photos of that night) but I imagine I looked much like this in the morning. Second, this story isn’t about exploring anything new, it’s just a story of a night that happened. Simply for fun.

——

We’re in Montreal, for a concert that has been cancelled. While bummed that the show didn’t in fact go on, we made the best of it. We were in Montreal, there is plenty to do here. As luck would have it, there was a dance for queer women that night and we shifted our plans to make that our evening out.

The weather was warm, I was wearing a skirt and a halter top, sneakers (we were supposed to be at a concert after all) and we made our way to a restaurant before going to the club. Once done, with a slight buzz from the red wine, we walked around for a bit, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, and then called an Uber to take us to the aptly named Cherry Bomb party.

There was no line up which took us a bit by surprise and we feared this would be a dud of a party but you could hear the music pumping and I really wanted to dance so we walked passed the bouncer, presented our tickets to the attendant, and made our way inside. There was a sea of people, beautiful, sexy, people. We took it all in, made our way to the bar and with a drink in hand, got on the dance floor.

The music felt as though it was pumping my heart in time with the beat. Beautiful bodies were everywhere around us, the smell of different perfumes, hands caressing, skin against skin, it was precisely where I wanted to be in that moment. I could feel my partner against me, her hands pulling me close as I pressed my ass into her. She tilted my head back and nibbled on my neck and then spun me around so she could kiss me. After a couple of hours of dancing, she leaned in close, put her mouth against my ear and said “How’s my baby girl?” I looked at her and simply nodded. She took my hand and led me out of the club and we returned to the hotel.

Once inside the room, her carnality was no longer being contained. She stripped me naked, slapped my ass and growled get on the bed, on your stomach, and face away from me. I did as I was told, kind of, because I never do exactly as I am told. I got on the bed, with my chest pressed against the sheets but my ass in the air, wiggling it in her direction. “You’re just asking for it now, and I am going to give it to you!” I whimpered as I heard her buckle the straps of her harness, and shivered in excitement as I felt her come up onto the bed.

She knelt behind me and I could feel the dildo brush against my thigh. She spanked me a few times, letting me know that was for disobeying but she didn’t alter the position I was in. She caressed my ass, a little tenderness after the smacks, ran her fingers down towards my pussy and pushed two of them inside of me. I moaned as she pumped her fingers in me and soon I could feel her shifting behind me. “I’m going to fuck you baby girl, and I’m not stopping until your legs go weak and you collapse on the bed!”

And then the night turned into morning, I had collapsed long ago, and we woke up, the strap in a pile on the floor along with our clothes, little reminders, along with the slight tenderness in my pussy, of the night before. I turned to face her, kissed the tip of her nose, and simply said “Thanks daddy!” She smiled, and we both fell back into sleep.


Too much heat
giphy.gif
 
*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.
No. I cannot ignore this. Woof. I don’t even know what to say except reading this made me tear up. ❤️❤️❤️
giphy.gif
 
Everything about that scene was precisely us! When we were watching Sense8 and that scene came on we looked at each other and were like, whoa, that’s us!
Not to derail this with a story about me but my daughter and I are huge Wachowski sister fans. And were very excited to watch this together. We’re normally pretty comfortable watching uncomfortable content together but both of us just looked at each after this scene and were like “Well, we’ll be watching the rest of this show independently TYVM.” 🤣
 
Everything about that scene was precisely us! When we were watching Sense8 and that scene came on we looked at each other and were like, whoa, that’s us!

Not to derail this with a story about me but my daughter and I are huge Wachowski sister fans. And were very excited to watch this together. We’re normally pretty comfortable watching uncomfortable content together but both of us just looked at each after this scene and were like “Well, we’ll be watching the rest of this show independently TYVM.” 🤣

Oh.... now this makes a bit more sense to me. I have never heard of "Sense8" and since I don't stay up on anything, I'm neither surprised or concerned. But this is a Wachowski thing? Okay. Now I need to find it. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

And funny timing since I literally watched "The Matrix" over the weekend for the first time in years.
 
Oh.... now this makes a bit more sense to me. I have never heard of "Sense8" and since I don't stay up on anything, I'm neither surprised or concerned. But this is a Wachowski thing? Okay. Now I need to find it. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

And funny timing since I literally watched "The Matrix" over the weekend for the first time in years.
It’s a Netflix series. Not their best work but still very good IMHO.
 
Not to derail this with a story about me but my daughter and I are huge Wachowski sister fans. And were very excited to watch this together. We’re normally pretty comfortable watching uncomfortable content together but both of us just looked at each after this scene and were like “Well, we’ll be watching the rest of this show independently TYVM.” 🤣
In our case we were like "that was so fucking hot" so yeah, I can imagine the discomfort here lol.

But also for us, we felt so seen. Me, the trans woman, her a Black cis woman, that scene will forever be memorable in my mind.
 
In our case we were like "that was so fucking hot" so yeah, I can imagine the discomfort here lol.

But also for us, we felt so seen. Me, the trans woman, her a Black cis woman, that scene will forever be memorable in my mind.
For sure. Part of why it was uncomfortable to watch was I was so very real feeling. and very much not for my gaze but hers.
 
I am sharing this particular story today in large part because @Lord Pmann and his “weird sex” thread where he and others talked about masturbating while other people were in the same room. He had thrown out the invitation to women to provide a story if they had ever done such a thing and while I was tempted to respond there, I decided to wait and provide the story here, so as not to take too much space on his thread, and feed mine lol. That being said, there is no photo associated with this story, considering where this took place so I will attach a random photo instead. Let’s begin.

Sex parties. It just so happens that attend quite a number of these, of varying nature. Sometimes they are kink related, other times they can be swingers (I attend these rarely, I'm not one to just fuck strangers, I need some semblance of a relationship), and other times they are queer focused. And sometimes, it’s a mix. This story comes from a kinky and queer party where I found myself in a room with only other women.

This room was not intended to have the scene that transpired occur but you just never know what can happen in these spaces when the mood strikes. It was nearing the end of the night and there were nine of us in this particular room. I knew three of them. One was the woman I went to the party with, this sexy as hell stud of a woman, another was someone I met at previous parties, and the last one was partnered with a friend of mine who is a big pleasure dom and in that capacity has a massive kink for all things “pleasure machines”. From Sybians to power tools with dildo attachments, he has an impressive collection. Here today, in the middle of this room was his Sybian that his partner brought with her. Currently it was sitting quiet and waiting for the next person brave enough to mount it and be made to cum in front of a crowd.

I took a seat on a long leather sofa, in between the person I came with, and the operator of the Sybian. There is a control box where someone dials the speed in which it vibrates and rotates inside of you. Today I was going to be neither rider nor controller, just an observer. As much as I am an exhibitionist, I am just as much a voyeur. An equal opportunity pervert, if you will. Across the room a couple were whispering to each other back and forth until one exclaimed that she wanted to ride the Sybian, as long as her partner ran the controls. She chose her attachment, fastened it to the base, and then rolled a condom on top of it. With these preparations now out of the way, she stripped entirely naked, which is not necessary to ride the Sybian but certainly appreciated by those of us watching.

And so it began. The machine whirred to life, slowly at first, and gradually increasing in speed. I snuggled into the woman I was there with, she cupped a hand on my breast, circling a finger over my nipple through the fabric of the top I was wearing. As we watched the show in front of us, moans were not only coming from the person on the Sybian, although hers were the loudest. Others in the room had either hiked up their skirts, or pushed a hand in their panties and were openly, mindlessly, rubbing their pussies, eyes focussed on the action at the center of the room.

All of this open masturbation encouraged and emboldened me and I turned my head and started kissing my partner as I pulled my thong to the side giving me access to stroke my pussy. I was already wet and I pulled some of the wetness over my clit and teased it with a finger. I broke the kiss and whispered in her ear “Will you finger fuck yourself with me daddy, please?” and she complied, surprising me as she was the one to usually provide the commands but she was also clearly aroused by the whole scene and she knew that doing this for me would excite me even further than I already was. As I gazed across the room, every single woman was either masturbating using their fingers or having pulled out a toy they had brought with them. Even the one controlling the Sybian had reached a hand beneath herself. My eyes were taking in a feast and my body was responding in kind to all this nourishment, my fingers increasing their tempo as I pushed them inside me, my breath ragged.

The Sybian rider’s orgasm came on strong and she let out a loud and prolonged moan that only urged the others in the room to continue. Moans got increasingly louder and when one woman loudly exclaimed she was going to cum and then began squirting I couldn’t hold back. I felt my persons lips against my ear and then heard three short words “Cum for daddy”. She knew me too well. The orgasm came over me, my mind clouded by the pleasure, and I felt her tense next to me, heard her climax, and we slumped together on the sofa.

I can still remember the heat in that room, the cacophony of moans, the sounds of vibrators and fingers pushing inside pussies, the smells, and then the satisfied little whimpers as we all came down from the ecstasy. In the middle of the floor the Sybian was quiet and lying next to it was another satisfied rider, her partner lying next to her and caressing her torso with gentle fingers.

It was one hell of way to end the night and it was organic, and unplanned, and never duplicated. To this day, this is still one of the most memorable and pleasurable scenes I have ever taken part in. And there was no intercourse at all, just masturbation. And a whole lot of satisfied smiles. I fucking love women!


👀
 
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