The Clitoratti – Online review

Kittens on lockdown: finding fulfilment in a corona-riddled world…

It’s Friday night and for the first time since lockdown commenced, I have a party to go to. The dress code is as expected for a KK event: negligee, lingerie, feathers, lace and leather, silk gowns and suspenders, and of course, a mask. Fortunately, I have a whole toybox full of such items, remnants of another life. I make a mental note to buy something new for the next one. Something more, Charlotte 2020.

I decide on black bra and knickers, with a short, white, black-spotted negligee over the top. I like it. It makes my tits look good. I try on some hold-ups, but it’s a warm night, and they cling to my skin uncomfortably. Besides which, I’ve shaved my legs for the first time in a month, and they’re tanned from all the garden time, so it seems a travesty to keep them cooped up in nylon.
After six weeks of isolation, during which I’ve kept myself reasonably fresh but not exactly funky, it’s a pure delight to get dressed up, put on some make-up, style my hair and remember that there is a beautiful woman hidden beneath the sweatpants and oversized Batman T-shirt I stole from my brother. Like a butterfly, I emerge from my COVID chrysalis. No amount of make-up will hide the tan lines on my boobs and legs, but fuck it, I’ll position the laptop a little further away and dim the lights.
My living room becomes a studio, and a boudoir. I place my laptop on my footstool, but unless I want the guests to be looking straight up my nose (and up other places…), it ain’t gonna work. I balance it on top of a lampshade, which is the perfect height as long as it doesn’t fall off or get kicked off mid-orgasm. Lighting provides another hurdle. I can’t quite get it right no matter where I put the lamp, but I get it right enough. I look into the little tester screen on Zoom and think, yes, I look okay, I look good, I’ll definitely pass.
I put on the sultry, trippy tunes of the KK playlist, pour myself another cranberry and champagne (I treated myself for the occasion), and place my wicker case of sex toys so that I don’t have to twist into any ungraceful angles to retrieve its contents. Last but not least, I position my mask, black and cat-like, and tie it around my head. Sorted. Ready. I don’t feel at all nervous. Just excited and very ready for sex. Masturbation and porn have not been cutting the mustard. I need some human stimulation. Some female stimulation.

10pm. I type in the password and arrive at the KK Virtual Clitoratti Party. An array of lovely smiley faces, mine included, pop up in front of me. I glance around the screen and feel immediately at ease; the warmth and sensuality of women soothes my isolated soul. I take a sip of champagne and appreciate the crisp, cold bubbles as they fizz on my tongue and tingle through my body. The first pulse of arousal throbs between my thighs. I pick up my pen. There are no phones allowed (quite rightly) so all I have is a notepad and an old Biro to help me remember who’s who and what’s what. Trying to write while also being fully involved in what was going on became such a distraction as the evening progressed (not easy holding a pen, a vibrator and a tube of lube) that I jacked it in and decided to rely on a few scribbles and fragmented memories to get me through my first blog as a KK writer. I apologise if I’ve muddled up the details or left anyone out.

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Our hosts are, by all accounts, bloody stunning! and very skilful in managing the events of the evening. A round of introductions kicks off the activity. The hosts scan the party and zoom in on particular guests. They don’t get around to me, but that’s fine; it gives me chance to focus on the other guests. There’s a woman with a dancing pole and someone in a bathtub. Another lady has fashioned her own mask out of some red velvet which matches her top hat. Another kitten is wearing a striking, if a little terrifying, silver mask with a long, spiked beak and sharp cheekbones. I own something similar, but it didn’t really go with my outfit. Maybe next time. There are some who’ve been to the online parties but not the real ones and vice versa, and some, like me, haven’t been to any. The way they talk about Mansion and Hedonism makes me shiver with arousal and excitement. My first party was meant to be Mansion on the 18th April, but alas, we were two or three weeks into lockdown by then and (kinda surprisingly…) Bojo didn’t include blowing off strangers at sex parties as ‘key work’.

The hosts get us warmed up with a question and answer session where we can either signal that we want to talk or simply put it in the group chat. There is no pressure and if they zoom in on anyone who seems slightly uncomfortable with the limelight, they zoom out again. First, following a round of compliments between the kittens, one of the hosts asks who our current girl crushes are. A few answer, you are! and she gracefully accepts the compliment. I reply with ‘Jacinda Ardern’ because the woman is awesome, and J-Lo because, well, she’s J-Lo.
We are then asked about our craziest sexual experiences. To get us started and, I assume, to set the bar so we’re not afraid to let our weird out, one of the hosts describes ‘the most surreal’ night of her life, after which one of her male friends awoke to find a carrot in his anal passage and a dog licking his balls. Her story certainly gets things flowing. A woman sets my libido alight with a story about a holiday with her husband, where she encountered a handsome waiter named Marco. Rather than becoming jealous of his wife’s flirtation, her hubby arranged for her to spend the night with him and paid for them to have a room in the hotel. A little extramarital treat. My mind wanders to the husband’s bed…Another kitten divulges that her boyfriend once gifted her two men for her birthday. Another kitten slithers around her bath and describes a girl-on-girl experience at a party when she was in the Navy. I wonder what other nautical tales she has up her sleeve. I’d love to sit on a porch until the early hours on a balmy evening listening to her life story. I bet it would be a book all by itself.

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I flick through the sex catalogue in my brain and try to locate the most bizarre…the most risqué…the most interesting sexual memory. I start to type in the group chat about the time I had sex on the pool table in my dad’s pub while I was meant to be working behind the bar, or the time I bent over one of the walls in Warwick Castle, or the threesomes I had with an ex-colleague and my ex-boyfriend…but by the time I’ve decided which part of my colourful past to disclose, we’re moving on to another question: the things we’d still like to do, the fantasies we want to fulfil.
Someone wants ten men. A classic fantasy deep-rooted in our evolutionary past and one I often wander to during masturbation. She wants her husband to watch and she doesn’t care who the men are, her husband can decide, she just wants to lie on a bed and be fucked over and over again while the rest wait their turn. Someone else wants a sensual experience with four women, licking the nape of her neck, and other places. A few women mention double penetration and sensual massage, and I think, yeah, I’d like to try both of those things. Pegging is mentioned, which I have tried once, but it went terribly wrong. I think it’s important to empty the bowels beforehand, let’s just put it that way.

The last thing the host asks us to do before the first performance of the evening is to show her our bums, which I like, because I like my bum. It’s perky and smooth and muscular, which I know isn’t in line with the current round, fleshy fashion, but it was a perfect arse in the ‘90s and I’m not going to let society tell me it’s no longer good enough. We have a girlie giggle while waggling our bums at our cameras then settle in for the show.
A gorgeous olive-skinned woman appears on my screen dressed in a black leather fetish outfit. She has cat ears and leather straps over her face and head and around her breasts. Her long, dark hair is tied in a taut ponytail at the nape of her neck which swishes over her back and shoulders as she writhes before my eyes. I’m particularly distracted by her lips, seductively red and plump, but every part of her is perfect to be fair. On all fours, she arches and stretches her back, feline and graceful, then kneels, exposing her breasts for our pleasure. Her breasts are full and pert, her nipples dark and erect. I find myself wanting to reach out and touch her. She picks up a jug of milk and starts to pour it over her lips, down her neck. It trickles over her collar bone and the swell of her breasts, then drips from her nipples. Even my aversion to dairy doesn’t quell my arousal.
Next to grace our screens, after a little more Q&A, is Kitten A. She stands in a wooden cabin dressed in gold chains and leather, twirling fire around her body, a flickering warmth on her flawless skin. Again, the perfection of her breasts turns me on. My main attraction is towards men, but there is something about a woman’s breasts that makes me want to reach out and touch, lick and suck. Her golden limbs twist and shimmy in the sunset glow of the light, a beautiful fiery nymph. I lean back a little and massage my labia over the scratchy lace of my knickers. A wetness starts to creep between my thighs.

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A round of applause concludes the performances. I take a trip to the bathroom and, when I return, it would appear I’ve missed something because the hosts are gone, most of the masks are off, and the girls have started their own party. Some are dancing, either naked or semi-naked. Others are peeling off clothes and lingerie. Kitten S is looking superhot as she struts around in red suspenders. A few are lay on their bellies watching, and others are already lost in their own pre-orgasmic world. The woman in the bath is playing beneath the waters with a vibe, her pleasure interrupted only for a sip of red wine. I gravitate to a woman. She’s lay on a bed naked with her legs open. The camera shot is taken from the bottom of the bed; she is fully exposed, so pure and beautiful. Her eyes are closed as she uses a small vibrator to toy with her clit. The expression on her face signals that she is close to orgasm. It’s time for my knickers to come off. In fact, it’s time for everything to come off.
Naked, I retrieve a large purple vibrator from my box of tricks. It’s not one I use often as it’s too big and it claims to do something no piece of vibrating plastic can do—feel like a cock. However, the ‘head’ is not a bad substitute, with a little lube, for the velvety tip of a man’s penis, so as I watch her getting ever closer to orgasm, I rub it on and around my clit. I’m there in no time. Faster than I have been, well, since we were all held hostage by a virus. My first orgasm of the evening is with her. As I watch her body tense and brace itself, the first flutters of orgasm ripple around my torso. She starts to pant, and pant, her breath heavier and faster as her climax builds. I bite my lip and come.

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Another woman catches my eye. Her skin is quite dark, and she has the sort of sensual, red, pouting lips I’ve always wanted. I imagine pushing her back and easing my pussy onto hers, finding that sweet spot, connecting like two halves of an oyster. My second orgasm comes and it’s better than the first. I cry out, then remember my neighbour will be watching Killing Eve next door. I need to try and keep my mouth shut from now on. Hopefully my screams will blend into one of the murder scenes.
Our attentions are taken by another, who has now collated more toys to play with. One of them is the biggest dildo I’ve ever seen, a purple flexible piece of kit with massive balls. The other is an entire rubber hand and forearm. I put down my knob, pathetic in comparison to this monster, and watch. She’s very much in the flow. So hot to watch a woman enjoy herself so much. She takes the purple dildo and pushes it into her vagina; her face creases in pleasure. She leans her head on the side of the bath and closes her eyes. Within a minute or two, she comes, then relaxes only momentarily before reaching for the hand. She eases the tapered fingertips into her body, then slides the fingers in, and the hand, and the wrist, until the whole thing is inside of her. The water ripples in waves over her body; her breasts bob in and out of the bubbles. Her nipples jut through the suds. I’d love to play with them as she pleasures herself. She comes again. And as she does so, I lean back and come for the third time. I announce my achievement to the group chat. One of the hosts replies, good girl.

I lay back in the shadows of my living room and enjoy the show while continuing to play. The camera zooms in on me at some point and I’m not sure I like it. If it weren’t for my ridiculous tan lines, maybe, but as it is, if it weren’t for my nipples and pubic hair, I’d look like I’m still wearing the shorts and bikini top I had on in the garden. My white boobs and upper thighs seem to glow on the screen, which is funny but not at all sexy. I laugh at myself and continue to toy with my vulva.
One of the hosts announces that we have ten minutes before the end of the party. I manage to fit in two more climaxes before the night ends. We blow kisses, complement each other some more and say goodbye. The screen goes blank. I sit alone, but never lonely, and smile; the pulse slowly fades between my thighs.
Roll on post-corona Mansion…
Char xx

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