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 . . .