Late Home

Training

Pamela

By CactusJuggler

I was surprised when my sister Nora called me and asked if she could stop by. We didn't get along, and rarely had any contact anymore, but she said she really needed to talk to me, so I agreed. Two years my senior, at 24, Nora lived just across town but we never even talked to each other anymore, so this was a real surprise.

The doorbell to my apartment rang, and I got a much bigger surprise. When I opened the door and saw my sister standing there with her boyfriend Bob, I couldn't believe my eyes at the size of her chest! Growing up, Nora and I were both pretty flat-chested, and Nora had always been really hung up about the size of her chest. But the Nora that stood on my doorstep was far from flat-chested! She was wearing tight jeans and a sweatshirt that seemed to be struggling to cover her huge breasts! Her chest looked huge!
I couldn't take my eyes off of her, she looked so different. I was totally speechless.
"Can we come in?"
I stepped back and motioned them inside. I couldn't take my eyes off of Nora's chest. How was she so huge? They stepped inside, and Nora's boyfriend Bob turned and closed the door. I turned and moved into the tiny "living room" of my little apartment, and Bob suddenly grabbed me from behind. His hands snaked up under my arms and then back behind my neck, trapping my arms helplessly in a full nelson. I began to struggle but he was way too strong.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I managed to shriek at him. He didn't appear to hear me as I saw Nora step around in front of me.
"Get her down on her knees." She told him.
Immediately Bob forced me down, pushing my neck so far forward that I thought my arms would be ripped from their sockets. He forced me into a kneeling position, and then let up a little so that I could look up at her. I looked up at her, and, once again, I was astounded at the size of her chest. "Nora, what the hell is wrong with you? Tell him to let go of me!"
She just smiled at me, and as I watched, grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt with both hands and pulled it up over breasts, showing her to not be wearing a bra. I forgot about Bob holding me down for a moment as I stared a her huge tits! They were massive, each larger around than a softball! They looked swollen and firm, and her nipples were hard. The mesmerized daze I was in, staring at her tits, ended suddenly as she leaned forward and used both hands to point her right breast in my face. She squeezed her breast and a fine white stream sprayed in my face. Her milk was all over my face, and as I turned my head to one side to avoid it, she moved and sprayed me again. She stepped back and looked down at me as her milk dripped from my face when suddenly I noticed how wonderful it smelled! Almost unconsciously I licked the milk off my lips, and as soon as I tasted it I wanted more! I hungered for it, I needed it. "Let her go." Nora commanded Bob, and hearing that voice I knew at once that I would do anything for her.
Bob let me go, and I looked up at my sister with reverence in my eyes.
"Stand up." She told me, and standing up, I rushed to obey her. I wanted nothing more in the world than to please her. She stepped closer to me, breasts still exposed, and with one hand pulled my head down to her teat. I eagerly took her nipple in my mouth and began to suckle. Drinking down milk from her breast, I was in heaven. It was the most warm, wonderful, safe feeling you could ever imagine. When I'd sucked for only a moment she pulled her tit away from me, and I felt the most profound sense of loss imaginable. I wanted to suckle at her breast, I wanted to drink more of her glorious milk.
I looked up at my new master, her milk still dribbling from the corner of my mouth, and saw her smiling the most evil smile. I watched as she pulled off her sweatshirt altogether and unzipped her jeans. After stepping out of her jeans Nora pulled off her panties and kicked them aside.

Read more . . .

Act of Submission

The Look



A Firm Hand



Crime and Punishment

The Boarder

The Boarder
 
Brian Houlihan
 
 
It all started when I rented a basement apartment from this middle aged German couple in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago.  Werner and Frieda, both in their fifties, did not stand out in a crowd.  If you saw them on the street you would probably think them the most nondescript couple of all.  That's the impression I had too, when I first rented the small apartment.

I was at a real low point in my life.  I had just split up with my wife, Pat, and she had the old apartment in the suburbs.  Now I was on my own in the city, working a clerical job at a film production house downtown.  I was approaching forty years old and I just seemed to be adrift.  But thank God I had a job when I signed the lease for the apartment.  Frieda showed it to me.  It was neat, clean, and cheap.  Perfect for me.  I filled out the application and she seemed pleasant, cordial, but nothing out of the ordinary.  As I said, she appeared kind of nondescript.  About five six, dyed brown hair, blue eyes, big tits, big ass.  Dressed conservatively.

She said she would check my credit and get back to me.  Fine.  I was staying at a motel downtown.  She phoned me that night, which seemed awfully quick.  I was approved and could move in immediately.  She said she wouldn't begin to charge me until the first of the month.  Since this was the third week in April that was very generous. My old buddy Ray had a truck and he helped me m
ove.  I didn't have much stuff so it was no biggie.

I liked living in the city, as opposed to the suburbs, and went for walks as often as I could.  However, the apartment was in the basement and it didn't get much light.  It was dark a lot and kind of gloomy.  If I was depressed this dark quality just added to it.

I ran into Frieda one Saturday morning. She was watering the lawn in the back yard.  She was wearing shorts and she looked nice. "Hi David."

"Hi Mrs. Schmidt.  You look nice in those shorts."

"Why thank you!  Oh David, Werner and I want you to come for dinner tomorrow night.  Seven pm.  Upstairs."

The way she said it, she didn't even consider me not accepting.  I was hesitant.  But she was the landlord and I wanted to be on their good side. "Um..okay.  Thank you.  I'll be there, Mrs. Schmidt."
She smiled and continued watering the grass.

Dinner was a bit tense.  Frieda seemed to want to draw me out, but she also seemed very nosy.
"Do you have a girlfriend?  I would think a good looking man like you would have several."

"No, not really.  I just split up with my wife.  But thanks for the compliment."

"Well I'm sure it's her loss.  You'll have another one in no time. Probably better looking."

She kept staring and smiling at me.  Her attention made me a bit uneasy.

Werner said almost nothing.  Just ate with his head down.  But Frieda definitely wore the pants in that family. "Werner, more wine!"

He'd pop up out of his chair, go into the kitchen, and return with a fresh bottle of German wine, which he poured for everyone.  I got the impression he worked as some kind of contractor.

"Are you going out to the clubs to meet girls, David?"

"Uh..not that much."

"Well it's best to get back into the swim of things.  You know, like getting thrown from a horse.  You just jump right back on.  Don't let the horse intimidate you."

"I'm sure that's good advice."

They served pot roast and it was delicious.  After dinner, we had some brandy in the living room.  They had a nice big apartment, two bedroom. "Do you like brandy, David?"

"Oh yes.  I love to drink."

"Ha.  Ha.  What else do you love?"

"That's a secret."

Frieda chuckled and smiled at me.  She enjoyed repartee like that.  And I was positive she wanted to know all of my secrets.  But what were hers?

As I was leaving their place to return to my apartment downstairs, she walked me to the back door and then kissed me on the cheek.  That seemed odd.  For the first dinner with the new boarder.  Oh well.  She smelled good and her big tits felt good too.

The following Saturday morning I was sleeping in late.  The job was boring and it looked like it might be ending soon.  The office gossip was that they were in trouble.  Financial trouble.  I picked up a bottle of vodka on my way home and drank it in my room.

There was a knock at the door.  Weird.  I didn't know anybody in the neighborhood and it wouldn't be Ray, he would have called me.  I got out of bed and opened the door a sliver.  It was Frieda.  She had on new jeans and low heels. "Hi David.  I hope I didn't wake you."

She glanced down at my crotch and I realized I was semi hard in my jockey shorts. "Uh no, Frieda.  Kind of a big night.  What can I do for you?"
"I want you to come shopping with me.  Just some groceries.  It'll be fun."

I stood there for a minute.  I really didn't feel like going.  But there was something about her.  I looked up again and she glanced at my dick again and smiled. "Throw some jeans on and meet me in the garage in ten minutes."

"Okay."

After I shut door, I touched my dick and I was now rock hard, thinking of her smile and her looking at my crotch.  Did Frieda want me sexually? That's the vibe I got.  But what about her husband?  Hey, she was in charge.

These thoughts ran thru my head while I threw some clothes on and ran an electric razor over my face.

Frieda beamed with a big smile when I arrived in the garage.  They had a late model Lincoln Town Car so business must be pretty good for her and Werner. As we drove to the store I realized I enjoyed being in her company. There was something mysterious about her.  What were her motives?  I was bored and quite lonely.  Didn't really have any friends in the city, with the exception of Ray.  So I was flattered that she was taking an interest in me.

She was kind of amusing in the store.  She would pick something out and put it in her basket, then explain why she chose that item.

She lit up in the cosmetics section. "Did you know I dye my hair?"

"No."   (I lied.) "You're not a very good lair, David.  But you are sweet."

Here she slapped me on the ass affectionately.  I got hard.  As the day wore on she was touching me more and more. "Ever thought about giving yourself some highlights in your hair?"

"No."

"You have pretty hair."

Touching my hair and my neck.  I loved her fingers on me.  My dick was out and tingling.  Could she see it?

"Have you ever thought about shaving your legs?"

"No."

"You have very nice legs.  Womanly.  A lot of girls would kill for your legs," she laughs. I didn't know how to take it.

She liked to buy all the tabloids too. "I love to read all the dirt and scandals.  The more dirt the better."
Here she slapped my ass again, but this time her hand lingered on it.

When we returned home, I offered to help her put her things away. "Oh no, I've bothered you enough.  Go chase some girls,"  then another swat on the butt.

Returning to my apartment, I had a full fledged, wet hard on.  I had had it for half of the time with her.  I made myself a drink and began fantasizing about Frieda Schmidt.  Did she want to have sex with me?  It sure seemed like it.  Did she know I was very, very turned on by dominant women? How could she know that?

I took a nap and woke up later with a very wet crotch.  I had had a great wet dream about her dominating me.  Then I jacked off and had a wonderful cum.

The following week I was let go from the job.  Yeah, they were in trouble all right.  And now so was I.  Now I was really depressed.  Of course I was around the apartment now on week days.  I would see Frieda now and then and she was always friendly.  Thank God she didn't ask me about my job.  That was tactful.

On Friday she knocked on my door and asked if I would like to make some extra money?  Sure.  She needed her garage cleaned.  It was filthy.  She would pay me fifty bucks.  Great!  I set to work immediately.  It took me several hours.

When I was finished I was very proud of my work.  I had removed about 18 full bags of trash from the place.  I thought about knocking on her door and asking for the money.  But then thought against that.  Maybe she knew I was out of work.  That was classy.  Why not just wait until she brings it up and pays me?

I must confess here that I was thinking about her a lot and jacking off a lot. She was the main character in my fantasies.

The following Monday she knocked on my door.  It was early afternoon. She seemed a bit dressed up, make up and a nice skirt and pressed blouse.  The blouse showcased her big tits.

"Ah.  You're in.  Good.  You did such a good job, cleaning the garage, I want  you to come up and have a drink."

By this time I didn't even consider turning her down.  I didn't know where this was going.   But I was enjoying it.  It did not go unnoticed that she didn't bring this up until she was alone and Werner was at work.

I was dressed casually in jeans.  I knocked on her back door and she led me into the living room.  There were two drinks on the coffee table. Strong drinks.  Manhattans.  She paid me the fifty bucks and handed me my drink.  I was semi hard in my pants.  I noted the drinks seemed to have no effect on her.  She was crossing her legs a lot.  Was this a date?  With her husband coming home some time?  Intense staring at me.  Had she been having wet dreams too?

"David, do you ever feel like something is missing in your life?"
"Yeah.  Sometimes."

I noticed her playing with her high heels a lot.  Kind of twirling and displaying them.

"You are such a sweet boy.  But you seem sort of lost.  Without direction."

I just sat there and took this in, the whiskey burning a hole in my belly. She smiled and poured us more Manhattans from a large pitcher she had made.

"It seems like you just need some discipline, something to motivate you."

I said nothing. But the word discipline started to get my prick hard. And that intense stare of hers, like a cat eyeing a mouse.  A trapped mouse. Did she know I was into dominant women somehow?  How? Now she was rubbing my leg.  Cast iron boner.  I couldn't believe she was being so intimate.  I hadn't had sex with anybody in ages.

"Do you mind me touching you, David?"

"No!  it's nice."

"Good hon.  I like you.  And I like touching you.  Do you like me?"

"Yes Mrs. Schmidt."

"Frieda."

"Frieda"

"That's better."

Now her hand was rubbing my mid thigh.  My dick was punching my pants. "David, I want us to be close.  I think it will be good for both of us."

I was stunned.  I didn't know what to say.

She leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips.  Then her tongue entered my mouth.  Boldly roaming around and then sucking my tongue. Her perfume smelled nice.  She was wearing more of it than usual. Squeezing my leg.  She sipped her drink and just stared at me.  Then another long, sexy kiss, rubbing my leg.

"Stand up, hon."

I stood up.  What now?  Did she have some kind of plan? She seemed bold.  I was a bit scared. She just smiled at me as she sipped her drink. "Take your pants off, honey."

I just stood there.  Was she serious? "Well, do it!  Go on!  Don't just stand there!"

Her voice was suddenly bossy.  Trembling and very nervous, I undid my belt and attempted to remove my pants.  It was very awkward because I tried to take the pants off over my shoes, but it wouldn't work.  So I had to sit down and unlace and remove my shoes.  My hands were shaking.  I was under her spell.  She just sat there sipping her drink and smiling, as if she was quite used to this.

Finally I was standing in front of her in my jockey briefs and a t shirt.  My dick was rock hard.  And wet. "Down boy!"

With that she slapped my dick.  Hard.  I doubled over in pain. "Bad boys get hard without permission."

Now I was getting frightened. "Come here."

I stood in front of her.  She pulled me in between her legs.  She was still smiling at me and rubbing the backs of my legs. "Such a pretty girl."

The next thing I knew I was over her lap.  This was taking on a dream like quality.  Then she pulled down my jockey briefs.  Then she was stroking my ass cheeks and my upper thighs.  The air was electric with sexual tension.  I was almost afraid to breathe.  But I did savor her being in charge, Frieda making all the decisions for me.

"Just relax hon.  Momma's gonna give you a good spank and you can have a good cry."

Now I was scared.  It was all like a strange dream.  But my dick was harder than ever. Crack!  Crack!

"Ow!"

"Shhh.  Quiet baby.  Don't be a bad girl."

The two spanks were hard.  My ass was stinging.  But god I was excited. "Such a pretty girlie ass and asshole."

Her fingers playing on my ass, then in my crack, then probing my anus. Had she planned it this way? CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK! She was incrediby strong.  It hurt.  I was crying already. "Ow!  Oww!  Frieda no, that hurts!"

"Shh. Quiet baby.  Momma loves you. This is for your own good."

I could hear myself crying and sobbing.  Like a child. Her fingers on my ass, then on my balls, thighs, then squuezing my dick. She knew it was turning me on. CRACK!  CRACK! CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK! Next thing I knew I was bawling my eyes out.  Wailing loudly.  Then she'd be stroking me again.

"Shhhh.  Moma's here honey.  It's all right."

Then I could feel her finger going into my asshole.  Just a little. Then a little more.  Then she pulled her finger out and grasped my rock hard dick. "You little whore!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Wailing some more, hiccuping and shaking with fear. "Almost finished baby.  Almost over Precious."

I could hear myself crying loudly.  Then it was quiet.  Then she was touching my dick again.  Slowly jacking it.  She must have known exactly how close I was.  Suddenly I went over into this dreamlike cum, my dick kept pumping and pumping and pumping, with her help.  I shot a big load right away.  I seemed to just keep cumming for a long, long time and then she kept jacking me after I came. Long after.  It got painful. "Ow!  Frieda!  Stop!"

"Shhhhh."

My face was soaking wet from crying.  It was like I had reverted to childhood or something.  Thirty nine years old and bawling like a baby. Post orgasmic euphoria.  My dick and balls felt drained and wonderful. Now she was stroking my ass again and my thighs. "Good girl. You are such a good girl."

I seemed to cry and heave for a long, long  time. Then a long silence while she stroked me.

"Stand up honey."

Finally I stood up.  On wobbly legs.  In a dream.  My dick was soft. There was a puddle of cum on her carpet.  My  jockey shorts were in a heap on the floor.  As I stood there I realized that that was easily the best orgasm I had ever experienced. She was smiling at me.  Beaming.  Her face was wet and disheveled.

"Such a pretty girl."

Then she was up and embracing me, kissing me, her tongue in my mouth, sucking my tongue, in control, stroking my ass, whimpering with pleasure.

"That was wonderful.  I knew that's what my baby needed.  And now I've got a present for a good girl who took her first spanking for Momma."

Frieda  picked up her skirt and removed her panties.  They were full cut cotton, purple colored.  They looked very, very wet.  She smiled at me and then held then open for me. "Don't just stand there, Stupid.  Step in."

I stepped into the soiled, wet panties of this in charge woman and she pulled them up my legs and smoothed them around my very spent dick and balls. "I want you in panties whenever I see you David.  Did you hear me?"

"Yes Frieda."

"Mommy.  You call me Mommy now."
"Yes Mommy."

She kissed me on the lips and patted my hair, like I was a pet that had performed well.
"Okay Precious.  Get dressed and get out of here."

In a total sex daze, I got into my clothes.  As I was about to leave, I picked up my jockey shorts.  She grabbed them out of my hand. "Give me those.  Girls wear panties.  Not this shit.  Understand?"
"Yes Mommy."

She swatted me on the ass. "Now scoot."

 That was the begining.

Read more . . .

Reinforcing Her Authority

Milking Procedure

Milking Procedure
NHS Direct

The doctor will tell you that she needs to insert her finger into your rectum in order to stimulate your prostate gland.

She will then ask you to stand in front of the examination couch, feet apart, facing and to bend forward so that your arms or elbows are on the couch.

Your wife or a female relative may wish to be present

The doctor will put on a surgical glove and will cover a finger in lubricant.

She will then squeeze her finger into your anus, inserting it in a downwards angle as if pointing to the umbilicus (belly button).



There may be a little discomfort. Try to relax.

A few seconds may elapse as the doctor waits for the external sphincter muscle to relax.

She will then beging moving her finger in and out, stroking your prostate until you start to dribble ejaculate. This may take several minutes, and may or may not occasion some tumesence.



If you become erect, the doctor may roll you over to display you to her colleagues.

When your milking is complete, the doctor will remove her finger.

In the absence of any other release, this procedure should take place at least once a week.

Now kneel down and give me a kiss

Mature Woman Has Her Way

Mature Woman Has Her Way

Panty_Licker

Finding life on unemployment street very boring, not to mention the fact of always been broke, I decided to go job hunting. In the job office were all the typical jobs on offer from the likes of the burger giants but then one caught my eye.

"A mature minded young person
required to work in local clothing
store. Wages and hours will be
discussed at interview."

Ok it wasn't something that an 18-year-old lad like myself would normally go for, but anything other than been up to my elbows in grease all day seemed pretty good to me. The woman on the desk gave me a strange look and asked me if I was really sure I wanted to work there. I was puzzled by her behaviour but nonetheless she set up an interview for the next day with the store.

The following morning found me in a freshly ironed suit and clean shoes walking through town to find the store. I felt a bit of a fool dressed up as I was and hoped that I wouldn't run into any of the guys. Eventually I found the store and nearly turned away to walk back home when I first clapped eyes on the place, but I needed the job, badly. The bell tinkled a cheery warning to the owner as I swung the door open and stepped inside. If the front of the store looked old fashioned then the insides of the place looked like I had just stepped back in time to the forties. Everything in the place seemed to be every shade of brown that could ever be. The clothes hanging on the racks, the big old heavy wooden counter top and even the old fashioned till with its big brass buttons.

"Hello young man may I help you?" a matronly looking woman asked me with some distain from behind the counter.

"Hello... yes... I am John Miller and I have come about the job." I stuttered and held out my hand.

She studied me with piercing blue eyes through her half moon glasses, refusing to uncross her arms from under her ample bosom to take my offered hand and shake it. Her grey hair was tightly knotted into a bun onto the back of her head and a black suit hugged her ample frame just as tightly. She scornfully pursed her bright red lips, and even though I don't like to admit it, she scared me.

What seemed like an eternity later she finally spoke. "You are a boy and this is a ladies fitting store. We only supply the finest clothing to the finest ladies so what on earth could you possibly offer me?" It seemed more like a demand rather than a question such was her authority.

"I am a hard worker and I am..."

"Yes I bet you are." She abruptly cut me off. "Come here and join me behind this counter to see how it fits you." She ordered. Although she didn't snap her fingers I could have sworn I heard it and I jumped to attention.

I quickly joined her side and noticed that everything about her was stern and that she wouldn't take any nonsense. As strange as it sounds I found the smell of her lavender perfume alluring, even sexy. Maybe it wasn't just the perfume because I realised that whenever she spoke to me a little shiver run up my spine.

"Pay attention boy. In these draws are kept buttons, various lace trimmings and silk ribbon for making bows and all sorts of bric-a-brac. You will learn the name of every button and you will memorise where everything is kept. I do not like and will not accept tardiness of any sort. Do you understand boy?"

I opened my mouth to reply but didn't get the chance because as I went to lean on the counter my fingertips caught a dish of paper clips and flipped it over throwing the contents all over the floor behind the counter. She glared at me then down at the floor before slowly turning her blazing eyes back to my madly blushing face. That shiver ran up my spine again. Instead of talking she simply pointed a well-manicured finger that was painted the same bright red as her lipstick, to the floor. I understood her orders and quickly dropped to my knees.

My fingers scrabbled at the little clips and it was then that I noticed her black patent leather stiletto shoes. I paused briefly in my task to let my eyes wander from the shoes, over her nicely turned ankles and up her strong calf muscles to the hem of her skirt which ended just above her knee. I saw that she was wearing either black stockings or pantyhose with a black pencil line on the back of them running from her shoes to the darkness underneath her skirt. I gulped and for some wierd reason found myself hoping that they were stockings. Suddenly the tinkling of the doorbell brought me back to reality.

"Stay where you are boy." She whispered harshly at me.

This was one order I didn't mind following at all because it would give me plenty of time to drink in the beauty of her legs. I moved quietly so that I was sitting on the floor with my back resting on the draws and my knees huddled up to my chest. All manner of erotic thoughts ran through my mind as she dealt with the customer. What was i thinking, i chided myself, this woman is at least fifty. I noted that she spoke a lot more civil to the lady than she did to me. Suddenly she stepped over me so that she had a leg either side of my hips.

I couldn't believe it; maybe she had forgotten I was there. But no she cant have because I heard her telling the customer that she was going to employ a helper at the store so long as she could find one that did as she asked and never answered back. Then they had a little laugh about how difficult it was finding good staff these days.

She shuffled forward a couple of inches as she messed about with something on the top of the counter, and because my face was on line with her crotch I couldn't help but have the tip of my nose brush the front of her skirt. My heart was pounding with excitement and I could feel my prick begin to respond to the crazy situation I now found myself in.

I couldn't help myself as I began to nuzzle gently against her front. I thought she might move away but I was wrong and found her pressing her hips forward. With the excitement bar raised I used my shaking hands to caress her shoes and ankles. She still didn't move so I softly stroked my fingers up her nylon-clad calves to the hem of her skirt and when I met no resistance I pushed a little further.

"Mrs. Matson would you be a dear and hand me that small case of handkerchiefs down from the shelf behind you?" I heard her ask the customer.

I thought i had blown it and thought that she was going to go mad at me. I mentally kicked my own ass for been such a pervert for lusting after an older woman. But the moment the customer had turned around she quickly lifted her skirt and dropped it over my head.

It took me a second or two to realise what had happened as I found myself suddenly encased in a muffled darkness. Then my straining cock lurched violently in the confines of my trousers as I found from the softness of her thigh against my cheek that she was wearing stockings and not pantyhose. Turning my head slightly I kissed first one inner thigh just above the stocking top, to test the water. When i found that there was no resistance I turned my head to the other side so that I could apply my lips to her other inner thigh. My hands continued to caress and stroke her calves and ankles and as I became bolder I began to use my tongue instead of my lips.

After barely a minute of licking around her stocking tops my mature and stern soon to be boss parted her legs a little bit more either side of me. I couldn't believe it. Although I had a little idea of what she wanted me to do next I was unsure whether to actually do it or not. Was she really offering me to go even further. I had come this far and she had instigated all of it so taking the bull by the horns I tilted my head back a little way and ran my tongue over the gusset of her panties. The cotton felt both rough and smooth at the same time and I was in heaven. Five minutes ago she wouldn't even shake my hand but now she was offering me one of my wildest fantasies.

With my hormones running wild I began lapping at her covered slit. My senses were reeling with the combination of the smell of her lavender perfume and the musk of her excited pussy. All I wanted to do was rip her panties off and bury my tongue into her hot cunt so that I could taste her womanly juices, but I knew I had to restrain myself because I didn't want the customer knowing what was going on. I was also pretty sure that I wasn't the only one who didn't want anyone else finding out either.

The muffled conversation between the two women continued and after a few short minutes of sheer panty licking bliss I heard the tinkle of a faraway bell.

"Oh fuck me with your tongue boy!!!" She almost screamed as she pulled her skirt back up and dragged her spittle sodden panties to one side. "I thought she would never go." She hoarsely groaned as she grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my face into her crotch

Her fat juicy cunt lips seemed to cover most of my face as I drove my tongue into her hot depths. She pushed herself down onto me with such force that I thought she was going to break my nose as I tongue fucked her. Her pussy washed my face with its slick juices as she rocked feverously backwards and forwards. Using my nose to rub on her engorged clitoris I lashed and whipped her frothy cunt. "Oh fuck... fuck... I'm cumming boy... don't... you dare... stop." She gasped and panted as she let loose a river of sweet juice.

I wanted to drink all of her feminine liquid down into my belly and to make sure that not a single drop was wasted I reached up and clutching at her ass cheeks I pulled her even further onto my gulping sucking mouth. Her hips bucked wildly and her legs shook with such force that I thought she was going to collapse. Slowly her orgasm ebbed and subsided and her wild shaking slowed to a gentle tremble.

She went to move away but I held her in place as my tongue and lips continued to pay homage to her sex. I gently sucked and licked every part of her womanhood to make sure she was cleansed of all her cream. Only when I was satisfied did I allow her to move. I still remained seated on the floor as I watched her use her hands to flatten her rumpled skirt out.

"Well young man because you have proven yourself to be a good worker you will arrive here for work at precisely nine am tomorrow morning. Not a minute sooner and not a minute later. Now get off the floor and go home."

She had returned to her former strict and disciplined self and as I pulled myself off the floor I grinned to myself. I just know that I am going to love working here. My hard prick was screaming for attention and I wanted to fuck her so bad, but I knew it wasn't going to be today. I thanked her for the interview and for giving me the job before I made my exit out of that old world woman's clothing store.

Maybe it wouldn't happen at all and that I would have to just make do with satisfying her lustful needs. But that night as I lay in bed stroking my cock I fucked her in every way possible.

Permitted clothing

Ms Andre Dates My Dad

Ms Andre Dates My Dad

Jeffrey214

I was about 12 years old when my mother passed away. After that, I lived with my father, Ted, in our little 3 bedroom house. Dad worked in an insurance office of some kind, a fairly boring job, but he loved me and took very good care of me. Dad was had dark brown hair, blue eyes and pale skin like me. He was about 5'9" tall and was a muscular 160 lbs, fairly handsome, and of a quiet and intelligent personality.

I grew up watching him work hard to make our home and we were happy. Dad didn't date much during all that time, but when I had just turned 18 and my dad was 38, he met a woman named Jordan Andre and he fell in love. They began dating regularly and Dad was happier than I'd seen him in a long time. I met her early on since it seemed she always came to our house to pick dad up for dates, and she drove her large Mercedes. She was taller, perhaps 5'11", well over 6' in her heels, quite curvy but not overweight at all. She dressed very feminine in a sort of austere way, heels, skirt, lacey blouse, sharp jacket, and some jewelry, adorned her stunning black hair, grey eyes, and authoritative manner. I remember hearing my father, even from the earliest dates, respond to her with "yes, dear", or if she was giving a firm instruction, "yes, ma'am". I just thought it was their way, and it seemed very natural, so I started addressing her that way with "yes, ma'am," and she would smile and call me a 'good boy', just the same way she did to dad.

She was very beautiful and I had a crush on her too. She was so beautiful, so powerful, and she had an air of dignity and leadership about her. She treated me very well, giving me hugs and little pats on my bottom, kisses on my cheeks, always very concerned and caring about what was happening in my life. She was very maternal toward me but never gave the feeling that she could or would replace my mother in my heart, but that she would provide me with female guidance and wisdom to help me.

She was some kind of doctor, and I later learned she was an urologist, a doctor specializing in the treatment of male genitals, especially fertility issues, and had her own successful practice in the city. She lived in a big house set well back from the road in a ritzy area; clearly she had money which was something we never really did. I had learned that Ms. Andre had two daughters older than me, one was 21 and the other was 23, both were studying at university.

FIRST SLEEP OVER

After she and my father had dated a few months, there came a time when Ms. Andre invited my dad and I to visit her home and stay over a night. Her daughters were still at university so it would only be the three of us.

When Saturday came, she picked us up in her Mercedes and took us about half an hours' drive to an exclusive area outside of town.

Her home was magnificent. She had gardeners, a pool boy, and cleaning ladies that came each week to keep things spotless. She showed dad and I to our rooms, which were small quarters off the service area (kitchen, laundry, and pantry). They must have been servants' quarters in the house's design.

Dad and I got settled in and then we went to the living room to sit for a while and talk. I got bored pretty quickly and Ms Andre offered that I could give myself a tour of the house, and then hang out in the game and watch TV or play pool, whatever.

I strolled around from room to room and noticed two unusual things.

First, that there were works of art all around; statues, photos, paintings, and virtually every one of them featured male nudity in some way. There was a large portrait in the hallway of a muscular man, very well endowed, lying naked above silk sheets as though asleep. The view was from the foot of the bed, looking down on him between his spread thighs, his heavy testicles lewdly revealed in his relaxed scrotum, and his thick and long penis laying across his thigh, veins and the underside of his crown detailed exquisitely. The man in the painting had no visible pubic hair, as though it was shaved, so that his genitals were fully displayed without anything to hide them. I felt my penis thickening in my pants, somehow it was exciting to see a naked man so clearly. I was not excited to look at him as much as I felt it would be wonderful to be him, a nude model, painted by a woman, then the painting owned by a woman for women's eyes to feast upon for all time. My penis throbbed again. How many women had thereby 'seen' him naked? Over how many years had his perfection been untouched by age and enjoyed by women?

The second unusual thing was that I noticed small paddles here and there, some casually left on a table or bureau, some hanging by a leather thong on the wall near a doorway or as part of a display. The more I looked around, the more different paddles I saw. There was wood, leather, combinations, a strap with a handle, a small whip with many leather strips in a bundle, each in its own special place. Many had little hearts or other feminine insignias. Words like "love", "tender care", "nurture" as though these were accoutrements of a loving home. One black leather paddle was branded "for a naughty boy", and that made my penis throb. So many implements in so many places, a person wouldn't have to walk 10 paces in this house to get their hands on one. I imagined being across Ms. Andre's lap having my bottom swatted and found it was an exciting image.

So it seemed that Ms Andre liked to look at the naked male form, and she had a thing for spanking implements. I didn't know if she had used them to spank her daughters, but with all the art around, I sort of suspected she liked to spank boys. Perhaps even spanking grown men. I finally arrived at my destination -- the game room.

In the middle of the game room was great pool table and I knocked some balls around for a while. I noticed several stacks of magazines and started looking through them. I was amazed to find that many of them were 'Playgirl', not that I should be shocked, given the art on the walls. I looked through them, seeing the pictures of the naked men and felt a strange sensation in my belly, thinking of the totally-hot Ms. Andre enjoying so many explicit pictures of naked males in both flaccid and erect states, and over so many years of subscription.

I looked around in some drawers in the bookcases and found some picture books. In them were many snapshots of Ms. Andre in pretty dresses posing next to men who were completely naked. Big penises, small penises, flaccid, erect, circumcised, uncircumcised, it ran the whole gamut of male nudity. She was always smiling. I wondered how she knew so many men and why they posed nude with her.

I found another book, hidden in the back. In this book, there were pictures of many different women in many states of dress, even some in exciting lingerie, but never naked. What they all had in common was that each picture featured a naked man across their laps, bottom up, receiving a spanking with her bare hand or a paddle of some kind. It appeared that the spankings were severe as many of the lighter-skinned men had very red bottoms and some with real bruises. As I turned the pages I saw men strapped down over a gym horse of some kind and a woman was using a long thin strip of wood on their bottoms, leaving angry red streaks and some close up pictures of the men's bottoms with real welts.

My bottom tightened involuntarily as I looked at these photos, and I couldn't explain why my penis was getting stiffer in my pants again. There was something exciting about males being naked and women being clothed. The men were vulnerable and the women were powerful, especially when a woman was spanking the man and especially when the man was tied down, helpless and naked, receiving strokes from the long canes. I put the books away carefully so that my perusal would not be discovered.

I looked at some books on the shelves and saw a section where the Author was "Victoria Andre, Phd." I saw that they had titles like "Men in the care of Women", "A Lady's guide to keeping an obedient husband", and "Domestic discipline for the female-led household". One that I had to take down and look at was "New ways to properly clothe your man". In this book, there were various garments, mostly underwear, swimwear, and 'house clothes', all designed by the Author. The drawings and pictures showed that all of these clothes were designed specifically to display male genitalia by 'presenting' the genitals in thin and sheer 'pouches'. There were even trousers designed with an opening at the crotch so that the pouch of the undergarment displayed the man's genitals. There were pictures of male models on a catwalk in all of the underwear and outfits, strutting before an audience of happy clapping women.

The last book was "A Bride's guide to better marriage ceremony". It was filled with advice and pictures showing how to spank a man, how to touch and pleasure his penis without allowing ejaculation, how to put a plastic chastity device on him to stop him masturbating without "permission and supervision", and advice to severely limit the number of times per month he is allowed to spill semen.

The final picture set was of a groom in a wedding tuxedo that was completely normal, except that the pants were very tight and at the groin there was an opening, allowing a sheer pink pouch to cradle the man's dangling genitals. It was like a wedding album where the groom and groomsmen were all dressed in these pants that put their genitals on display, posing for all the usual wedding pictures. The bride was photographed tossing a sheer jock strap into a crowd of clamoring women and it was the groom that threw his bouquet to the waiting men. The set included sample vows for the husband-to-be, with the words "honor and obey" spoken by the male. Also, a pledge of fidelity; "I give you my body, my genitals, and my semen to be solely yours, I recognize your authority in our home, and I acknowledge your right to date and enjoy other men while I remain solely yours."

This all had my mind swimming in a sea of role-reversal with the woman in charge of her man, in complete control of everything. This was very new to me but I felt strangely intrigued and interested in these things.

I also found a book by Victoria Andre entitled "Letters from young Ladies". In it were verbatim letters that the Author had received from female students in her classes. It was apparent that this 'Victoria' was a professor of 'Women's Studies' and 'Human Sexuality' at the university. Many of her students had written letters in response to the question, "When/how did you first know you enjoyed seeing naked men?"

The first letter was from a graduate student of 23 years, named Kimberly.

Dear Dr. Andre,

When I turned 18, my Aunt Beth took me out on the town. She was always known as the 'wild one' of the family, and boy was she! She took me to an exclusive members-only club in the big city where I grew up that I had never known existed. It was in a posh neighborhood at a large home owned by a woman named 'J'. Aunt Beth had told me this was a "Ladies" club, suitable for women who had a taste for male nudity. On the way over, she explained that tonight was a "Clothed-Female / Nude-Male" party, otherwise known as CFNM. There would be probably 30 or more women of all ages, and somewhere around 10 or so fit men of all ages. The rules of the party were simple: the women were to remain clothed at all times, and the men were to remain naked at all times. Women could touch the men as they pleased but not the other way around.

She went on to say that the men would serve as waiters and entertainers, remaining naked the entire night, and they were required to obey any command given by a woman, including me! She said if I wanted to touch their penises, squeeze their testicles, feel their bottoms, it was totally allowed and in fact I was encouraged to do so. She said this would be the night for me to answer every question I had about male anatomy so that I'd never have to 'learn' in the back of a boy's car.

I was both very nervous and very excited!

We arrived and I was greeted at the door by our hostess, who immediately summoned a naked man to take our coats and scarves. He was amazing! I'd only seen 3 penises in my life, and they were my bothers, my cousin's, and my dads, all by accident and no touching, just a fleeting glimpse.

Here was a 30-year-old man, muscular, naked, and he had a big penis! It was flaccid and yet had to be 6" long and was thick. His pubic hair was shaved so I could see absolutely everything! I couldn't help it, I just stared. And more amazing, he just stood there grinning, letting me look!

After giving me plenty of time to have a good ogle, my Aunt Beth stepped forward and said, "Spread 'em, Thomas," and reached down and proceeded to feel up his balls right in front of me. Thomas said, "yes, Ma'am," and widened his stance, still grinning. I was shocked that my Aunt Beth knew his name -- that meant she'd seen him before -- maybe at a naked party! I also heard him give a little gasp as Beth firmly fondled his testes. I watched his penis throb a bit, getting bigger before my eyes. Beth took my hand and pulled me closer under the gleeful eyes of our hostess.

Beth said, "Hold his cock in your hand and feel it get hard, quickly girl!"

My hand was suddenly full of the first penis I had ever touched. It was so warm, pulsing, and alive. I wrapped my fingers around it gently and felt it grow and stiffen right there in my hand. I watched the head swell and pulse and turn purple before my eyes. Soon Thomas was very stiff like a board, and easily 8" long. I couldn't help but squeeze a little to feel it. His penis was amazing! It was like velvet wrapping a steel rod. I imagined its length and girth ramming into me and wow -- what a thought! It was so exciting!

Beth took my other hand to replace hers at his testicles, encouraging me to feel him up. His testes were so hot and firm, dangling deliciously in his soft hairless scrotum -- so delicate yet manly. I had never felt a testicle before and it was fascinating to feel their shape and the bumps and bulges where the tubes attached to them. I took my time, gently exploring his most vulnerable parts and I felt so powerful that he trusted me to have his testes in my hand. They were much bigger than I had expected. I had thought that testicles were spherical, but found they were egg-shaped as I rolled them in my palm and fingers. Compared to my hand, all his man parts felt so big and strong. I was beside myself with the joy of discovery and I could feel my panties getting wet.

After several minutes, Beth whispered, "there are at least 10 more cocks in here for you to explore, and you'll have more time with Thomas too. Let's get a drink and see some other naked boys." She winked at me and said, "Be a polite lady and thank Thomas for letting you feel his penis and testicles."

I looked up into his eyes and said, "Thank you Thomas that was amazing!"

He grinned and said, "Thank you, Ma'am; I am honored to have you touch me." He smiled happily taking our coats away, his big cock and balls flopping and jiggling as he walked, and his butt was so cute! I was happier than I had ever been!

To make a long story short, for the next 4 hours I was immersed in penises and testicles. I felt up all the men who ranged in age from 55 (way older than my dad), to a young man I'd seen before at school who was only 19 and it was his first time too! We sort of hung out together, (or rather, he hung out for me!), and I played with his penis and testicles several times. There was so much variety! Big, small, thick, thin, curved, straight, light pink and darker colors -- I learned to appreciate the differences and how every boy was unique and beautiful in his own way, not matter how big or small his genitals.

I got to see all 10 men masturbate to ejaculation at the end of the party, which of course I had never seen before. It was amazing -- all that semen spurting in different ways from different penises! It was fascinating!

So, now it's 5 years later. I've been to several of these parties and have invited a few of my girlfriends to attend, and boy did they have a good time! I even have invited two boys, and one of the boys actually did it! After that party, I dated him on and off for a year, and on every date I required that he strip for me and remain nude while I kept my clothes on! From that relationship I learned to really enjoy giving a boy a hand-job. It feels so powerful to control a penis, deciding when to torment him with pleasure and when to allow him to spurt. Now I love to 'make' a boy come when I decide, no matter how much he begs!!

I love seeing naked boys, and have taken your advice and bought some naked man art to put in my apartment to show the world that I enjoy and appreciate the nude male form. My roommate Cathy has learned to love it too! And we have a rule in my apartment on weekends -- any boy in my house has to strip at the door and stay undressed the entire visit, no matter what!

Sincerely,

Kimberly

After reading that letter, my penis was completely erect again, and I desperately needed to masturbate. I'd never known anything like this -- women enjoying naked men -- and I seriously thought that I'd enjoy being one of the naked boys. I really knew I would like it. I imagined what it would be like to be naked in a room full of clothed women -- their eyes devouring me and their hands exploring me. I imagined being forced to masturbate while they watched and it sent butterflies in my belly doing cartwheels!

I went into the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, I pulled down my pants and underwear to my ankles, pretending to be a boy masturbating in the room filled with clothed women, all of them watching me. I was so excited that I quickly came really hard and spurted a lot of semen all over the counter top.

Just then there was a knock at the door and I quickly pulled up my pants and answered it, worried about my semen was all over my hand, the sink and the counter. I had barely opened the door and Ms Andre took me by the arm and lead me back toward the living room saying, "It's 10 o'clock and time for boys to be in bed in my house, Jeffrey, let's get you to your room and into your pajamas." I couldn't argue, and as she led me through the game room, I saw that I had left the book open to Kimberly's letter on the bureau, and I knew there was my semen, still all over the counter in the bathroom. I silently prayed she wouldn't find these things until I'd had a chance to take care of it in the morning.

Ms. Andre stopped at the door and let me go into the room. That was the first time I noticed the room had no door, just a door frame. She said, "Go ahead and change for bed, dear."

I had unpacked my clothes when we'd arrived. But when I looked in the drawers, many things were missing, principally my underwear and my pajamas. Instead there were 2 pairs of little pink briefs made of sheer stretchy fabric and pronounced 'pouches' where I had left my tighty-whiteys. My long legged and long sleeved flannel pajamas were replaced by a set of what looked like girl's pajamas lay out on the bed. They consisted of a tiny pink satin brief that looked like panties but had a noticeable 'pouch' at the groin, and a matching pink button-up satin shirt that was long-sleeved, but short enough I knew it wouldn't cover the briefs.

Ms. Andre said, "Jeffrey, my sister Victoria is a clothing designer among other things, and she made me promise that all my men would wear her clothes when they visited me. She likes to design underpants, swimwear, and sleepwear for boys. They are all based on the design she calls 'pouch-panties', and she claims they are much healthier for boys to wear, since a boy's testicles were meant to dangle freely. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of replacing your things with some of her creations. It would make me and her very pleased if you were to wear them while you're here, and of course you can keep them as our gift to you." She smiled at me, "I'm sure that once you get used to wearing them, they'll feel very good on you."
Read more . . .

Bedtime Ritual

Mrs Swanson's Boarding House

Mrs Swanson's Boarding House

0rallyfix8ed

"Mr. Morton, what is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Swanson had summoned Carl Morton her newest boarder to her parlor. Displayed on the coffee table were two white sheets; white. that is. except for the yellowish stains that Carl could plainly see.

"I...don't know!" Carl stammered embarrassed to be questioned about the obvious semen stains on the otherwise immaculate sheets.

"Come now, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson scolded in her best motherly voice. "Surely you don't expect a proper lady to explain your bodily functions, and you want to go to medical school?"

"I... know what the stains are, Mrs. Swanson." Carl confessed as Susan Bridgeway looked on, bemused. Susan Bridgeway was Mrs. Swanson's housekeeper and cook. She stood slightly behind Mrs. Swanson dressed in her maids uniform, a plain black dress with white cuffs and collar. The dress buttoned all the way from the hem of its skirt which was mid calf to its collar. Her blond hair was pinned up in a no nonsense "bun" and she wore white stockings and sensible shoes. She was the picture of domestic efficiency.

Carl's face reddened as he stood before the two women, they were both roughly his mother's age. "Do you recall, Mr. Morton, that when your parents and I signed your boarding contract they agreed that I would act "in loco parentis"?

"Yes, Mrs. Swanson." Carl recalled waiting in the dining room while his parents, the Doctor and Mrs. Morton discussed the details of his living arrangements while he attended the university to study pre-med. Mrs. Bridgeway had served him cookies and milk while he waited. Doctor Morton had lived at Mrs. Swanson's while he attended medical school and had been introduced to Carl's mother the former Sarah Lee Parker by Mrs. Swanson. Their discussions seemed to drag on forever but Carl reasoned that being old friends they most likely spent some time just catching up. When Carl was finally summoned to the parlor where his parents had been meeting with Mrs. Swanson behind closed doors he found his mother chatting with Mrs. Swanson as his father appeared to be adjusting his tie. His father's suit coat was draped on a clothes tree; the kind found in a gentleman's bedroom. An odd piece of furniture for a parlor Carl thought at the time.

"Carl." His mother began. "Mrs. Swanson has agreed to accept responsibility for you while you are attending university."

"I don't think I understand, Mother?" Carl thought he would be on his own when he left home to attend college.

"Son." His father interrupted as he put his suit coat on. "It's a formality, in case of an emergency Mrs. Swanson will be able to make decisions that your mother and I would normally make for you."

"That's right, dear." His mother added. "Your father's parents signed the same agreement when he lived at Mrs. Swanson's. Didn't they, Roger?"

"My parents trusted Mrs. Swanson to supervise me and your mother and I trust Mrs. Swanson to keep an eye on you for us."

"Mr. Morton, among other things, you agreed that you would not make unnecessary work for me or Miss Bridgeway. Do you recall, Mr. Morton?"

"Yes, ma'am." Carl replied quietly. What would his parents think if they knew his first infraction involved a wet dream?

"And do you recall that you would always wear a suit and tie when you used the common rooms?"

Carl had failed to put on his suit coat when Miss Bridgeway informed him that his presence was required by Mrs. Swanson in the parlor. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again." Carl looked down as he apologized.

I'm afraid that apologies alone will not suffice, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson scolded. "I want you to go back to your room and write two proper apologies. One to Miss Bridgeway for making her work harder, and one to me for disrespecting my rules. Do you think you can manage that, Mr. Morton?"

"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Carl almost bowed as he left the room. She made him feel so childlike and small.

As he hurriedly wrote his apologies, Tom Murphy an upper classman already in medical school entered his room. "She called you downstairs?"

Carl nodded yes but didn't look up as he continued to write.

"Did she close the door?" Just the way he asked the question made Carl feel that Tom knew more than he let on.

"No, she left it open, why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing." Carl couldn't help but notice a faint smile on Tom's lips. "I guess you'll find out soon enough."

"Find out what? Carl demanded.

"You know it's against the rules to discuss anything about Mrs. Swanson's. Do you want me to get into trouble too?" Tom turned and left the room leaving Carl to finish his notes of apology and wondering what might be going on.

When Carl returned to the foyer the doors to the parlor were closed. Carl knocked softly. The door was answered by Miss Bridgeway. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the kitchen, Mr. Morton. Mrs. Swanson is attending to Mr. Butler." She closed the door behind her and ushered Carl to the rear of the house. Wait here until I come back to get you, Mr. Morton.

Miss Bridgeway's manner was all business. Cool, almost cold, calm and efficient, she carried herself in such a way as to demand respect. Her posture might have been described as aloof were it not for the maid's uniform. She was small; no more than five-two but sturdy; maybe a hundred and forty pounds. Her uniform accentuated her ample bosom, tight belly and full round buttocks. Carl watched as she returned to the parlor. Her hips seemed to sway in a way he hadn't noticed before. Before she reentered the parlor she looked back at him and seemed to smile ever so slightly. As he blushed and looked away he noticed a slight stirring in his trousers.

Carl waited patiently; actually relieved for the moment that he wasn't facing Mrs. Swanson. As time passed he wondered what might be taking so long and rehearsed his apology over and over again.

Soon enough the parlor doors opened and Scott Butler, another upper classman left without even looking towards Carl. Miss Bridgeway stepped into the hall and motioned for Carl to come to the parlor.

Carl drew a deep breath, stood, adjusted his suit coat and walked quickly to his second meeting with Mrs. Swanson. As he entered the parlor he had to turn sideways to avoid brushing against Miss Bridgeway whose dress collar was no longer buttoned al the way to the top. "Excuse me, please." He asked politely.

"You're excused, Mr. Morton." Miss Bridgeway smiled as she looked into his eyes and caused him to blush.

"Please come in, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson ordered. "Let me see your apology."

The parlor door closed quietly behind him. "Which one ma'am."

"Let's start with your least serious offense, failing to wear your suit coat when you came down to meet with me."

Carl handed a small envelope to Mrs. Swanson. She opened it glanced at the contents, smiled and said, "Thank-you, Mr. Morton, your apology is accepted. Please be more careful in the future."

"I can assure you that I will, Mrs. Swanson, thank-you for being so understanding."

"You're welcome, Mr. Morton. Now we must deal with the more serious matter; creating extra work for Miss Bridgeway. May I see your apology please?"

Carl handed the second envelope to Mrs. Swanson. She read the note, smiled and handed it to her maid. Miss Bridgeway read it and smiled. "You seem contrite enough, Mr. Morton, but mere contrition is not enough to mitigate this situation. You must be willing to do two things to make this right. First, you must take steps to prevent this sort of thing from happening in the future. And second you must perform an act of restitution. Do you agree, Mr. Morton?"

"I think I understand what you mean but what do you want?"

"As far as restitution is concerned I think helping Miss Bridgeway in the laundry for an hour would be fair. Would that be sufficient for you, Miss Bridgeway?"

"That would be fair, Mrs. Swanson, thank-you."

"Very well then, you will help in the laundry at a time that is convenient for you but you must complete your service by the end of the week, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Carl answered quickly.

"Good!" Mrs. Swanson exclaimed. "Now we must deal with prevention. As with most young men your age you seem to suffer from rather frequent nocturnal emissions." Carl blushed, his eyes turned down. "Isn't that right Miss Bridgeway?"

"I should say so, ma'am. Every night it seems to me."

"That's not healthy, not healthy at all. For a young man like you to be successful at school you must be able to focus on your studies. While you may not be aware of it your subconscious is pre occupied with sex." Carl could feel his penis beginning to throb. He was unable to look at Mrs. Swanson as she spoke. "Please take your jacket and hang it on the clothes tree."

"I beg your pardon."

"I want you to be more comfortable as we talk." Mrs. Swanson reassured him. "Now hang your jacket up and come sit beside me." Mrs. Swanson patted the seat next to her on the settee."

As he sat down Mrs. Swanson placed her hand on his knee. "Look at me Carl." It was the first time she had addressed him by his first name. "Do you trust me, Carl?"

Carl blushed, afraid that the growing bulge was becoming obvious. "Yes ma'am."

"Your mother and I discussed this very topic when your parents brought you to me. She was very apologetic that she had not yet started your training..."

"My training?" Carl interrupted, confused.

"Please don't interrupt, Carl. Your mother felt that she didn't have enough time. Your birthday was just last week so she asked me to begin your training. It's unusual for a young man to be placed in my care without any training at all but under the circumstances I agreed. Now where was I?"

"You were explaining to Carl that young men like him can be preoccupied with sex and not even know it." Miss Bridgeway offered.

"Thank-you, Susan. That's right; in fact, all men are preoccupied with sex! That is why women must help men control their urges. Wives, of course, help their husbands but young men must be helped by the women in their lives who love them and care for them. That starts with their mothers usually, but it could be their aunts or sisters or cousins or any woman who cares for the young man and wants him to grow into a healthy, intelligent, successful gentleman; a man who loves and respects all women but especially his wife. Do you understand, Carl?"

"I think so..." Carl really wasn't sure where this was going.

"Do you masturbate, Carl?"

The question was so direct that it caught Carl off guard.

"It's all right, Carl. You can say yes. Little boys masturbate. Don't they, Susan?"

"I should say so!" Susan exclaimed.

"Do you want to grow emotionally, Carl?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then I'm sure you'll agree that it's unhealthy to play with yourself all alone in the dark in your room, or worse, looking at dirty pictures."

Carl nodded, yes."

"And you'll also agree that a daily sexual release will help prevent these nasty nocturnal emissions you've been having."

Carl nodded again without thinking. He was agreeing just to be agreeable. He was uncomfortable to say the least and wanted to end this and go back to his room.

"And that Miss Bridgeway and I should help you control your natural urges so that you can have a healthy relationship with women all your life."

"Yes, Mrs. Swanson."

"Good, now let's get a look at you. Miss Bridgeway, show Carl the proper way to place his clothes on the clothes tree. Pay attention Carl, whenever you come to us for help you will always come to us properly dressed, you will explain that you need our help and you will ask permission to remove your clothing so that we can help you. The proper thing to say first is 'ma'am, I need your help, may I please remove my clothing?'"

Carl just stood there in silence, shocked, unable to speak or move. "Did you hear me, Carl?"

"Yes, but..."

"Carl!" Mrs. Swanson interrupted sternly, "Would you like me to call your parents?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then proceed."

Carl rose and started to loosen his tie. "Mr. Morton!" Mrs. Swanson's voice indicated her displeasure. "What did I tell you you must do?"

Carl blushed. "Ma'am, I need your help, may I please remove my clothing."

"Yes you may."

Miss Bridgeway helped Carl take off his tie and shirt. Carl felt very uneasy. He wanted to resist but then again he was strangely excited.

"Leave his shorts on, Miss Bridgeway."

"Of course, ma'am."

When all his clothes were neatly arranged Miss Bridgeway took Carl by the hand and led him over to Mrs. Swanson. Carl's penis was just barely constrained.

"Do you think it is proper for a man to let a woman know that he appreciates her, Carl?"

"It would be polite to do so, Mrs. Swanson."

"That's right, Carl. And do you know how a man expresses his ultimate appreciation?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Swanson."

"When a man begins to notice a woman there is a sub-conscious response that he is unable to control. His penis begins to swell. The deeper his appreciation the more intense the swelling. Unfortunately, for women, men have hidden their penises and consequently the surest sign of their interest under layers of clothing. Your mother and I belong to a small cadre of modern women who want to change this. We believe that the world would be a better place if men were free to express their desires naturally. We believe that men should be naked at all times so that as women we can observe them and help them control their natural desires."

"But, Mrs. Swanson, that's not possible!"

"Of course, dear, you're right! Society isn't ready yet and may never be. But, in my home, and in the homes of a surprising number of enlightened women it is happening! When your parents went home the first thing your father did when he entered the house was strip!"

"But what about my sister?"

"Your mother has been teaching your sister Ruth about the ways of The Sisterhood since she turned eighteen. I am giving you a choice. On the one hand you may reject my offer to bring you into our CFNM world. A world enjoyed by your parents and sister. A world enjoyed by your aunt Carolyn, Uncle Ward and Cousin Chris..."

"Wait, what is CFNM?"

"It stands for Clothed Female Naked Male."

"But why are the men the only ones who are naked?"

"Because women in our world are the dominate sex, Carl. No matter how successful a man becomes in his career, and believe me, when I tell you that the ladies of the sisterhood expect their men to be highly successful, in a CFNM home the women rule. The most obvious expression of that dominance is the clothing that hides her private parts from all men except their husbands or lovers and even they must earn the right to see and touch. But then CFNM men learn from an early age how to please women. If you reject this world you will not be a full time member of your family. You will be excluded from many family events and you will be asked to leave my home tonight. On the other hand if you choose to submit to the CFNM lifestyle I will begin your education immediately! If you want to stay please take off your shorts and show me your penis."

Carl's mind was spinning out of control. Could he believe Mrs. Swanson? Was his father the Dr. Roger Swanson, Chief of Surgery at Memorial Hospital willing to parade around naked at home? He remembered his father adjusting his tie in this very room. "May I ask one question, ma'am?"

"Just one, Carl, and then you must decide.'

"Has my father ever been naked in your home?"

"I trained your father, Carl. I introduced him to your mother. Whenever he visits whether your mother is with him or not he spends some of his visit naked as a sign of his respect. It's time to make your choice."

Carl stepped out of his shorts, folded them and placed them on the clothes tree. He turned and took one step towards Mrs. Swanson. His penis was fully erect.

Mrs. Swanson smiled, "You've got a lovely penis, Carl! Don't you agree Miss Bridgeway?

"Indeed I do! And Carl's testicles are very nice too! May I touch them?"

"Soon enough, Miss Bridgeway." She took his testicles in her hand and slowly rolled them from side to side. She pulled gently trying to get them to loosen but they drew even tighter. "Do your balls ever ache Carl?

"Sometimes." He moaned.

When they do you must come to me or Miss Bridgeway, do you understand?

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are never, ever to jack-off by yourself." Mrs. Swanson scolded. "From now on your sexual release will be monitored by one of the Sisters. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Carl's erection was becoming painful.

"Miss Bridgeway?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you see how dark Carl's penis is becoming?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The head is especially swollen now, it's super sensitive. We could make him cum with just a few quick pumps but I want this one to build up. At this point I like to refer to the penis as a cock. It sounds so much more powerful. I might make him cum without touching his cock, wouldn't that be fun?

Carl moaned helplessly, his knees began to shake. "Pleeeaseee......"

"Please what? Carl. What do you want? You can tell me!" Mrs. Swanson had him literally by the balls and she was enjoying every minute. She knew that training Carl would be even better than training his father. Carl would be second generation CFNM. The movement was growing. A movement that had existed in isolation since time began. But now, in the modern era, the ease of communication had broken down the barriers that limited its growth in the past. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"I need to cum!" Carl pleaded. "Make me cum!"

"I like spurt, Carl. Can you say 'make me spurt' for me."

"Oh.h.h yes.s.s.s please.. Make Me Spurt!!! Please make me spurt."

"Isn't it just wonderful how anxious a young man gets when he's really excited, Miss Bridgeway?"

"Indeed it is! Mr. Morton can't seem to keep his hips still and you haven't even touched his pretty penis. He looks so sweet thrusting his hips and clenching his butt cheeks."

Carl was on the brink of cuming but Mrs. Swanson knew how to keep a slow steady pace that would keep him that way as long as she wanted.

"From now on Carl you will live by my rules! You must promise that you will never masturbate yourself unless one of the Sisters gives you permission."

"Yes, ma'am." Carl moaned.

"All of your semen belongs to The Sisterhood. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Say it, Carl. Promise!"

"All of my semen belongs to The Sisterhood and I will never masturbate without the permission of a Sister."

"You won't regret this, Carl. The Sisters can make a nice young man feel very loved and wanted. And when we find the right Sister to be your wife you will be prepared to please her in every way possible." Carl's breathing was very shallow but rapid. Those quick short breathes that let Mrs. Swanson know he was on the brink of ejaculation. His eyes were closed and he was panting, he was like putty in her hands and she once again felt the stirring in her pussy that only came out when she exercised her power over a naked man. How many times had she done this? Too many to count but watching a penis as she teased it never failed to make her wet. "It's almost time, Carl. I must put on my apron first. You wouldn't want to soil my nice blouse now would you?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, please. Please! Make me spurt for you!" Carl was desperate.

Mrs. Swanson put on a white apron, the kind worn by cooks and sat down on the edge of her chair. "I want you to place your feet on either side of my legs, Carl. A little closer, dear. When you spurt for me I want to catch it on this apron. We don't want to make a mess now do we?" Carl just moaned. "Would you massage Carl's balls now please, Miss Bridgeway?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She giggled as she assumed her position behind Mrs. Swanson's newest recruit. She was always amused at how easily Mrs. Swanson could get a young man to do her bidding. Her warm hand cupped Carl's balls and gently rubbed them. Her free hand rubbed his chest teasing the tiny nipples that were hard as little stones.

Read more . . .

Come here and get over my knee.

Femdom Island

Femdom Island

JackBro

The Milking Chamber

"Oh my God!" I cried out at the sight in the square in the middle of the park. "I can't believe it!" The sight was too shocking for my mind to accept.

"I said you would be surprised!" Lori smiled back at me, standing by my side.

I knew an assignment into this female dominant culture was going to be a challenge - a challenge, that is, for me because I was male. For Lori, I think she enjoyed it.

If I had known the extent of the challenge, I never would have volunteered. Each time I thought I had adjusted, another little aspect of the culture surfaced to surprise me. What I saw in the middle of the part was the most shocking of all.

The challenge began on my first day on the island, when I had to take off my clothes. The female dominant island of Femdom imposed strict laws on men and the clothing we were required to wear. That is, us men were not allowed to wear any. The male half of the human species was required to remain bare-assed naked at all times. I mean we couldn't cover ourselves at all, even with our hands. The last time I wore clothing was on the boat we sailed to shore. I wore a set of swimming trunks, but those came off just after I jumped into the water and waded to the shore.

It felt very embarrassing at first; I mean walking around in public in the buff. Women were able to check out my dick whenever they wanted. They could look at my ass whenever they felt like it. It was humiliating, but only at first. Surprisingly, I quickly became accustomed to it. I think the sight of all the other men put my mind at ease, for they were all naked too. Knowing I was not alone somehow relieved the embarrassment, but it did not eliminate it altogether.

The cause of my continued source of embarrassment rested with my partner, Lori. I use the term "partner" loosely, for there was no 50/50 relationship between male and female on the island of Femdom. I could say she played the part of my wife, but no marriages existed on the island, at least not in the traditional sense. The relationship was more like master and servant. In fact, it sometimes boarded closer to mistress and slave.

For as I had to remove all my clothing, Lori got to keep all of hers. In fact, she got to wear whatever she wanted, which was probably a good thing. Not that she was ugly or anything like that. Quite the contrary, Lori was exceptionally good looking, which caused another problem. I knew a lack of clothing around her body would only serve to increase my embarrassment a few inches further.

Lori was a 25-year old brunette with a pretty face and a pair of sexy brown eyes. She stood about five-foot-five, and kept in great shape, and liked to eat healthy and do a lot of exercise. The result was a shapely, very sexy body. She wore narrow hips and what must have been a set of C-cupped tits; maybe even Ds.

I felt it a few times already. Every once in a while she faced me at the perfect angle or bent down right in front of me. Once I even saw a portion of her boob through a half-open button in her blouse. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have been a problem. But being naked, I had to look away. I had to ignore it and quickly try to think of something else to get my mind off the subject. Walking around naked was humiliating enough. Walking around with an erection would be a lot worse.

It was getting more difficult to resist the temptation with every passing hour. We had already been on the island for three days. We were into our fourth day when we went to the park. Four whole days without release was longer than I was used to.

* * * * *

"John, do you realize what they are doing?" Lori interrupted my thoughts. She brought me back to reality and the sight of the extreme humiliation displayed on the stage before me.

At the center of the park, in a square, sat a raised stage. On the stage laid a naked young male. He was bent over a contraption that left his body exposed and immobile. His arms hung down and his wrists were tied to two posts in front. His legs pointed down and were spread to two wider posts in the rear. Both wrists and ankles were tied, which made him look like an animal on all fours about to be sacrificed.

"John, do you see what they are doing to him?" Lori asked me again.

I knew full well what they were doing to him. In his tied position, the man was exceptionally vulnerable. Worse, a woman took advantage of his vulnerability. She knelt behind him with her hand swung around his leg. In her hand she held his cock. I watched her stroke it.

"It's a competition," Lori casually told me. "One of my new found friends told me about it last night. I didn't believe her at first, but I just had to walk down here to take a look for myself!" She spoke with a tone of genuine excitement. I could see why. Before us stood the most demeaning thing I had ever seen done to a man. It was worse than a male strip show. It was worse than a male slave auction. Not only was he naked, but he was also displayed in his full glory. And not only that, he was being forcibly stroked in public. I never imagined such a humiliating display was possible, although I notice he did not seem to mind it much. Even though his legs and arms were tied down and he couldn't escape the woman's eager hand, he wore a great big smile on his face. She was definitely keeping him very much aroused.

"Do you see what she is doing?" Lori gave me a nudge with her elbow to ask me a third time.

"Yes," I decided to answer finally. Of course I knew.

"She's jacking him off," Lori told me anyway. "She's masturbating him up on stage!"

Lori spoke with excitement. She wore a great big smile on her face. I find it hard to believe how much this demeaning sight turned her on.

"And there's more!" She practically jumped up and down in anticipation. "There's actually more to it than what you think! Just watch!"

I did not watch very close, but I couldn't help but notice the man enjoy it more and more. He seemed to get increasingly excited. I knew what this meant and what would soon happen.

Glancing to my side, I could tell Lori knew it too. She watched it like a little girl watching her favorite Saturday morning cartoon. It seemed like she actually looked forward to what would soon happen. I noticed she stood on her tiptoes and smiled.

And then he did it! The guy was forced to cumm! Even worse, he was forced to do it in public! At least two-dozen women watched the spectacle. A collective sigh went up among the crowd as I watched the guy squirt out his load of sperm. And then they clapped. I noticed Lori sigh and clap along with them.

"That was a good load," She told me. "That was the best one so far."

I stood beside her in shock. "How many times have you watched this?"

"This is number three," She answered. "I watched two others this morning, before you woke up, but it's not over yet. Just watch!"

I did not know what Lori meant by this, but then I looked up to see for myself. The woman doing the pumping action stopped for about a minute to rest, and then she started right back up again. I couldn't believe it! The guy just cummed, and then she tried to get him to do it again.

"Oh my God!" I involuntarily spoke with disbelief.

Lori looked at me and smiled even more. "One of the girls told me about it yesterday. They call it the male milking competition."

"Milking?" I expressed shock. I never before heard a man's ejaculation described as a milking, and then add: "Competition? What do you mean, competition?"

"It's a game," Lori explained. "As each man cumms, his sperm is collected into a container below. Whoever makes their male cumm the most sperm, wins a prize!"

I stood in awe. I simply could not believe it! I never thought something like this was possible. How utterly humiliating! I thought to myself. There had to be at least two or maybe three-dozen women watching this man being forced to repeatedly eject in public for their entertainment.

I suddenly came to the realization that the women were not just in charge on the island of Femdom, they were the masters over the men. And the men weren't just slaves, they were sex slaves. It was evident by looking at the man up on stage. The male did not fight against his captor. He fought a little at first when she started to pump him the second time, but then he stopped fighting and seemed to enjoy it. Despite the embarrassment, I noticed he got hard anyway. I realized he was going to be forced to do it again.

I took a hard swallow and questioned Lori. "How many times do they make him do it?"

"As many times as they can in thirty minutes," Lori answered. "Each contestant is given exactly thirty minutes to make as many deposits as possible. The two guys I saw this morning each did it three times."

'Deposits!' I thought to myself. Lori was starting to think like them. She was starting to become affected by the culture that surrounded us. She called the sexual function of a man a deposit - as though he was putting money into a bank.

"My friend told me that they starve them beforehand," Lori went on to explain. "I mean they sexually starve them. They don't allow them to cumm for three or maybe four days beforehand."

I noticed her smile at me when she said this. It made me wonder if she knew how long it had been for me, and then I realized of course she did.

"And they also feed them something called goat's milk," She went on. "Goat's milk is supposed to increase the male's quantity, if you know what I mean! I'm told it makes them big, ripe, and very swollen."

Of course I knew what she meant. I knew exactly what she meant. I also noticed how she talked about a man's balls like they were a piece of fruit. The men on the island of Femdom were not considered human beings. They were more like animals kept around to sexually please their female masters. That was why men were not allowed to wear clothing. They had to walk around in the nude so their female masters could keep an eye on them - every inch of them.

"What do you think John?" Lori asked me. "Do you think this is exciting?"

I didn't know how to answer. I noticed the poor man up on stage was again hard as a rock. The woman kneeling behind him was again beating his meat with a constant stroking action. It was easy to picture myself in his place. All I could think about was a woman's hand tightly wrapped around my cock, but then I realized how utterly humiliating it would be to have it done on stage.

"Look at him go!" Lori did not seem to appreciate the humiliation at all. Instead, her eyes focused to the stage and to watch the humiliation with pleasure.

I looked too, and saw the woman let go of the cock. It convulsed, but not much came out. Only a short glob of white liquid dropped into the container. A white line of fluid quickly followed it. His cock drooled into the pan below.

"That was a good size squirt, don't you think John?" Lori questioned. "I mean, for the second time in about twenty minutes, he's really got a lot of sperm."

"He's very good," I took a swallow and agreed.

"Do you think you could be that good?" Lori next asked me.

It took a moment for the question to settle in. I looked to my side and see Lori looking back at me. She wore a smile on her face. I could tell she really enjoyed this.

"It's disgusting!" I quickly disagreed with her assessment. "That man is being raped!"

Lori glanced down, and then she looked back up at my face. "That's not what the rest of your body says."

I looked down myself to see it. I also felt it. A full erection stuck out proudly from between my legs. A tremendous sense of embarrassment was suddenly instilled within me. I realized it was the first time Lori got to see me with an erection. I also realized many of the other women could see it too, but Lori bothered me most of all. I felt like a man caught with his pants down in the middle of the girl's locker room.

Without thinking, I instinctively brought my hands forward to cover myself.

"No! No! No!" Lori quickly corrected. "You know the rule! Men are not allowed to cover their bodies, even with their hands."

I remembered the rule. Lori reminded me many times before. A man was never supposed to cover himself, especially his cock and ass. Punishment was a ball-busting. That was where a woman got to take a man's balls in her hand and slowly squeeze down on them. Thoughts of a ball-busting made me face the inevitable.

Despite the embarrassment of showing an erection in public - and more important, an erection in front of Lori - I forced my hands behind me. I had to grab my wrists to resist the temptation to bring them forward, and then I turned away so Lori couldn't see. Of course, I know this exposed me to a lot of other women, but they didn't bother me as much as Lori. They were being entertained by the cock on stage, and I mostly worried about Lori.

Lori, to my surprise, laughed at me. "Come on John," She followed me around and looked anyway. "Don't be shy. I like it!"

She faced me and then took hold of my upper arms. She held me so I could not turn away, and then she looked down between us. "It's actually very nice. You should be proud of your prick!"

I turned red with embarrassment. "Please!" I tried to get her to look away.

"It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," She ignored me and continued to look anyway. "I always knew you were well hung, but now I see for certain. You're cock is most definitely of the large variety."

I was sure I turned even redder at the sound of her words. "Please!" I tried again. "Stop looking!"

"Not huge, but plenty big enough," She continued to ignore me and began speaking like a professional doctor giving her opinion of my size. "Nice and long and plenty thick too. Most certainly longer than average! What is it John, eight inches?"

"Oh Lori!" I couldn't help but say. "Please! This is so embarrassing!"

"Only embarrassing for you," She finally acknowledged my words. "I kind of like it! You've got a nice cock! You should be proud of it.

I gasped for breath. I couldn't believe she was vain enough to say such a thing. The culture was most certainly having a negative effect on her.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," She finally looked back up at my face at the end of her long stare. "What is it John? Really? Eight inches or a little bit longer? Tell me or I will get out my ruler and measure the length of your organ myself."

I had no choice but to tell her. I figured I might as well since she could already see it.

"A little over seven," I spoke shyly.

Lori laughed. "That's a good boy," She laughed at me. "Now, what were you saying about the poor man on stage? If it is so disgusting, why is it turning you on? Are you thinking about bending over in his place?"

"No!" I quickly rejected. "Of course not!"

"Come on John," Lori stepped closer and looked into my eyes. She was right in my face. Our noses almost touched. At my waist, I felt the head of my cock gently brush against her full compliment of clothing, and instinctively pulled back. "Admit it John. It turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" I countered with less enthusiasm.

Lori backed away and then turned to face the stage again. "Look at him!" We watched the spectacle together. "Think about what it would be like to be in his place, with the hand of a good looking girl encompassed around your shaft. Stroking! Pumping! Stroking! Pumping! Again and again! Over and over! Until she gives you an orgasm."

Lori smiled at my face, and then she looked down at my cock again. She held onto me tight by the elbow so I couldn't turn and I couldn't run away. She was able to look down upon my projecting hard-on from the side.

"And don't lie to me," She added. "I know what you're really thinking inside."

She was right. She saw how sexually stimulated I was. I could not cover up the ecstasy I felt inside.

"Please stop looking," I attempted to get her to break her stare.

"No!" She informed me succinctly. "I like looking at your cock, and I think I am going to keep look as much as I want. You just keep your eyes on the stage and tell me when he's about to erupt. I don't want to miss it if he has a third ejaculation."

I did as she suggested. The sight of the man on stage at least helped me keep my mind off the eyes of Lori on my cock, but only temporarily. I could still feel her look at me. Every time I sneaked a glance over, I noticed Lori had her eyes firmly locked down onto my member. I don't know how long she looked, but it seemed like several minutes. I only know it was impossible to get soft knowing she looked at me with a hard-on.

Meanwhile, the man on stage was being pumped again. The woman attempted to milk him a third time; three times in only 30 minutes.

"Look at it!" Lori finally broke her stare on me. "Look how hard it is! And look how long the thing is. It's really very nice, and the guy up on stage isn't too bad either."

I realize she was actually talking about my own cock. She hadn't broken her stare on me at all, but was looking down upon my length the entire time.

"Listen to him moan," She commented. "And listen to him grunt! It sounds like he's about to erupt again. Make sure to tell me when he's about to erupt. If you only knew how much an erupting cock turns me on."

Glancing to my side, I noticed Lori was almost panting. I hadn't noticed it before, but she was really getting turned on. I could see her sweat. I could tell her heart was racing. I couldn't help but wonder if the source was the cock on stage or my own.

I looked around at the other women in the audience. Their attention was mostly riveted up to the stage in front of us, but then I noticed one of them take a glance down at me and then give me a smile. I wondered how many others saw me too. And then I wondered how much longer we were going to stand here and witness this spectacle, and how was I going to walk home in my present condition.

"He's cumming," I actually told her. I couldn't believe I actually did what she told me to do.

"Oh yes!" Lori immediately turned her head towards the stage. "Look at him go! Look at him squirt!" She nearly jumped for joy.

My attention switched to the same scene. He didn't exactly squirt. He no longer had enough sperm left to squirt. It was more like a drool, but he did output some more sperm. Obviously, he did not have much left.

"Now admit it John! This turns you on, doesn't it? The thought of a good looking young woman forcibly jacking you off really makes you hot."

I took a hard swallow. "Well, maybe a little," I answered shyly.

"I knew it!" Lori responded like a warrior who just won a battle. "But what would you say if the good looking young woman was me? What if it was my hand?"

I looked at Lori in shock.

"Yes John!" She knew what I was thinking. "Imagine it. Imagine if you were on stage, and it was my hand around your shaft. Think about what it would feel like to have my little hand wrapped around your wiener, stroking it up and down. Pump! Stroke! Pump! Stroke! Again and again. Over and over, until I made you perform just like the man on stage."

"Lori!" I looked back at her in shock, realizing how much my heart raced too. Her words were very arousing.

"Answer the question," She turned her attention back to me after the man up on the stage was spent. "Tell me John, does it turn you on to think about being forcibly jacked off? And then jacked off again? And what if I was the jacker?"

Read more . . .