Contract Negotiations
Doctor Z
I'm a freelance consultant in the area of computer software
development. Call me Al. I normally work for large
corporations on a contract basis for a few months per stint. I
recently moved to New York from the San Francisco area, and
since I was starting in a new city where I had no business
contacts, I was forced make use of contract placement
companies, also known as "headhunter agencies". These are
middlemen who try to get contracts for people like me in return
for a cut of the money. They way this works is that after the
agency gets me a interview that results in a job, I sign up as
an employee of the agency, who then bills me out at a higher
rate to the company where I actually work. It's a sleazy
business, but without more contacts here I have to work this
way.
I got my current contract through a smallish agency. While
working on this contract, another agency called me about
another position that was somewhat more lucrative. After
interviewing at the new company, I was offered a contract.
Now, my existing contract was a typical one in that it was
open-ended and could be terminated by either party with
two-weeks' notice, so, barring any major pay raise from my
current job, I planned to quit my old job and accept the new
one. In keeping with my usual policy in these cases, I told
the new company I'd sleep on the decision and get back to them
the next day.
I then left and called the headhunter agency that currently
represented me to inform them that I probably was going to take
the other job. The headhunter there tried to persuade me to
stay at my current position. My early termination would mean a
loss of revenue for the agency, so her reaction was
predictable.
However, I told her that barring an increase in my billing
rate, I was going to take the new job. With that she put me on
hold, and when she came back, she explained that the agency
couldn't get any more money from the company I was working at,
but that Rachael, the owner of the agency, would be willing to
take less of a markup and give me a raise rather than lose the
contract altogether. When I asked how much of a markup, the
headhunter said that Rachael wanted to discuss that with me
personally. When I explained that I was going to make my
decision by early the next day, the headhunter put me on hold
again and when she got back on she said that Rachael would be
glad to talk to me later that day, if I could make it after
work.
I was willing to do that, and so we set up the meeting between
Rachael and me 6:00 PM that evening. Although I'd never
actually met Rachael, I had spoken to her on the phone a few
times and remembered her as being businesslike, professional,
and most important, reasonable. I was hoping I could get
enough money out of her to make it worth my while to stay at
this job, since the new position, though more lucrative, was
less interesting. I would never admit that to Rachael, of
course.
It was Friday evening, and by the time I was able to show up at
the agency the door was locked and everyone who worked there
was gone except Mary the receptionist who let me in when I
knocked and, presumably, Rachael.
Now, I was familiar with Mary from all the times I had come by
to pick up my paycheck. She was in her early twenties and
quite attractive, with shoulder-length, stylish blonde hair and
a very sexy, slim body. She was about 5 foot 2 or 3 and had
firm, perfectly sized breasts -- not too large and not too
small. She was outgoing and flirtatious, and every time I saw
her she was wearing very stylish and somewhat revealing
clothes.
That day she was wearing a silky, button-down blouse with the
neckline open low enough to show off a hint of her gorgeous
cleavage. Her bra was either quite sheer or non-existent, as I
could make out the contours of her breasts and nipples through
her blouse. She had on a calf-length skirt with a slit halfway
up her thigh. It was really tight around her hips and ass and
was thin enough for me to faintly glimpse her skimpy, dark
bikini panties underneath. She had on a pair of high heels
and, as always, wore little or no makeup. She looked even
sexier than usual, which is saying a lot. As I often did, I
wondered how she got away dressing that way in an office
environment.
Mary buzzed Rachael to tell her I had arrived, and when she got
off the phone she said that Rachael was on an important phone
call hoped it would be OK for me to wait 20 or 30 minutes. I
said it was, and Mary said that Rachael wanted me to know that
she really appreciated me coming by and told Mary to do
whatever she could to make me comfortable.
She asked if I wanted coffee or soda or anything, but I thanked
her and said I really didn't need anything. She smiled and
raised an eyebrow when I said that. I ignored that and told
her that since it was late she didn't have to stay on my
account. She thanked me quite nicely but said that she had to
stay late anyway and work. I made a sympathetic comment about
Mary's bad luck at having to work late on a Friday, and this
led to us making small talk for a few minutes.
On previous visits I often found myself staring at her sexy
body. I'd always try to be discreet, but sometimes she would
still catch me staring, to which she'd react with a coquettish
smile. As we sat there chatting she once again caught me
staring at her, but this time she raised her eyebrows, licked
her lips, and languidly turned towards me, slowly pushing her
chest out as she did. Although her movements were subtle and
ambiguous enough for her to deny if confronted, this was still
more flirty than she ever was with me in the past, and I choked
on my words for a moment in surprise and arousal. She just
laughed sexily and then resumed talking to me as if nothing had
happened.
Now, this both turned me on and made me nervous, and I tried to
hide my confusion and arousal as we spoke. I doubt I did a
very good job of it, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.
After a few minutes of our idle chatter I had more or less
calmed down again. Mary finally gave me a fake-sad look and
said in a deliberately childish, pouty tone of voice that she
had to get back to work. As she walked back to her desk, I
could see her perfect ass straining sexily against the material
of her tight skirt as she unabashedly swayed her hips. I'd
never seen her do that in my presence before, either, but then
again, I couldn't remember if I had ever seen her doing
anything other than sitting at her desk.
Dismissing her sexy antics as insincere, immature flirtation, I
plopped down on the couch in the reception area to find
something to read. This didn't prevent me from continuing to
stare at her ass until she sat down, however. The exagerated
way she moved her hips was turning me on, and I decided to
enjoy it while I could -- i.e., while her back was turned.
Despite my intention to not take Mary too seriously, I couldn't
help but wonder if perhaps she _was_ trying to get my sexual
attention. For a moment, my mind drifted off into a fantasy of
her slowly stripping for me as I watched from my vantage point
on the couch.
But then I sobered up and reminded myself that she probably had
dozens of boyfriends and there was no way she'd ever consider a
37-year-old, slightly flabby, balding guy like me. I thought
back to what life was like when I was her age, and I had to
admit to myself that I'm too shy and nervous around women to
ever have stood a chance with someone like her even back then.
A woman as attractive as her could easily afford to be as picky
as she wanted, and I'm sure she'd have no time for my
insecurities and shyness. I sighed and forced myself to stop
thinking those grim thoughts and to just enjoy her flirting and
her sexy body while I had the chance.
And I was getting ample opportunity for that right then. I
guess she didn't have to man the phones after hours, and
instead of sitting at the recetionist's desk she was working at
one of the headhunters' desks typing on the word processor.
From my seat in the reception area I had a really nice view of
her profile as she sat there and worked. I took advantage of
the view whenever I thought she wasn't looking.
Although she was quite a sight, I didn't want to appear too
lecherous by just staring, so I looked around among the
magazines nearby and tried to find something worth reading.
The pickings were rather disappointing, and I was trying to
figure out which of "Business Week" and "Forbes" would be less
boring, when suddenly Mary piped in with, "If you want
something more interesting you can read my 'Cosmopolitan'".
I laughed and said, "I'm not sure if that would be an
improvement over this shit."
She gave me another of her flirty looks and replied, "Oh, c'mon
now, Al. Do you mean to say that you'd rather read about the
stock market than to look at the sexy women in Cosmo?"
Her comment caught me off guard -- she sure was being flirty.
Covering up my surprise and embarrassment I answered, "Oh --
you mean in the ads? I must admit that I have a hard time
thinking of a woman as sexy when she's blatantly advertising
clothes or perfume -- or any product for that matter. It sort
of detracts from the whole thing, you know?"
I was proud of myself for hiding my surprise so well with my
somewhat glib, and actually quite honest reply, but my pride
was short lived, as Mary quickly flabbergasted me with her
reply: "Oh. I guess I know what you mean. So how about if I
go downstairs to the newsstand and get you a 'Penthouse'?
Those women aren't advertising anything ..." her smile became
devilish, "... and besides, they're naked. I think you'd like
that a lot better."
I felt a wave of arousal and surprise. Although she's a flirt
and a tease, this was a bit much even for her ... at least
compared to anything I'd seen her do in the past. The only
thing I managed to stammer was "Well ..." before she turned
towards me. She lifted her hands to her blouse as if she was
about to unbutton it, and she said, "Or do you prefer the real
thing? I'm not wearing a bra." She paused, raising her
eyebrows, and looked at me with an intensely serious and
provocative expression and with her hands poised ready to open
her blouse for me. She kept that pose and just stared at me as
wave of anxiety and arousal swept through me.
I was speechless and must have looked like an idiot with my
mouth hanging open. After a few seconds that seemed an
eternity, she slowly lowered her hands, and still staring at me
intently, she said, "I'll get you a 'Penthouse'," and got up.
I shook my head disbelievingly and stammered to her to sit back
down, but before I could stop her she had sashayed out the
door, her hips swinging even more blatantly and seductively
than before.
I was dumbfounded. What was going on? Why was she acting this
way? Mary was getting me sexually excited, but I was also
getting nervous and scared. I'm quite insecure about sex and I
always feared beautiful women -- they always seemed to be so
confident and so sure of their abilities to get men to do what
they want. And I have always been especially vulnerable to
that sort of manipulation due to my sexual insecurities and low
self-esteem. What did she want, anyway? I couldn't imagine
she would want to be this sexual with me just for her own
pleasure, and I tried to figure out what might be her ulterior
motive.
Could it be that she was working in cahoots with Rachael and
was somehow trying to seduce me to stay with the agency? That
seemed likely, but I couldn't imagine what Mary would get out
of it. With Rachael, it was obvious: as the owner of the
company she would profit from my staying on and continuing to
generate her percentage of my take. But what about Mary and
her paltry receptionist's salary? Did Rachael offer Mary a
commission to persuade me to stay? If so, did she tell her to
use sex? Or did she just ask Mary to be charming and is this
all Mary's idea?
I figured it was likely that Mary _was_ doing this for the
agency for some sort of compensation -- probably monetary. I
got more than a little bit angry at Mary's manipulation, and I
decided to give her a piece of my mind when she came back, and
I started rehearsing what I was going to say to her. But as I
did, I began to have second thoughts. Mary had turned me on a
lot and part of me -- a _big_ part of me, I grudgingly admitted
to myself -- wanted more. I became quite scared as I realized
how much I wanted her to continue with her manipulative
seduction despite the fact that it may not necessarily be in my
best interests.
I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to let her
get away with this, but my heart wasn't in it and I finally
gave up fighting myself. I decided to just let whatever
happens, happen. After all, even if I decided to stay on at
this agency for my current salary, I still was doing just fine
financially. And besides, I knew I wouldn't give up the new
job just for some cheap flirting -- Mary was going to have work
for her money. I at least had enough self-control to hold out
for that ... or at least I hoped so.
So I began to get excited about playing hard to get and seeing
how far Mary would go, and I tried to imagine what might
transpire once she returned. But then I had another thought:
what if she was just going to give me the magazine and then go
back to work? What if I was assuming too much about her?
Maybe she really _was_ trying to be friendly and that was it.
After all, Rachael _did_ tell her to make me comfortable, and
perhaps the flirting and the 'Penthouse' were simply a product
of Mary's overzealous desire to be helpful.
Or worse yet for me, what if Mary was indeed trying to seduce
me, but suppose she just gave me the magazine and then waited
for me to make the next move. Most men would catch the hint
and be all over her, but I'm so damn shy and insecure that I'd
never have enough guts to try anything with her -- even with a
lot of encouragement. Making a pass at a woman is the most
terrifying thing I can imagine. A psychologist would probably
say its a phobia with me, as is anything involving my being
sexually agressive and taking those kinds of risks. And so I
feared that if she wasn't extremely aggressive, and I thought
it quite unlikely that she would be, I would sit there like an
idiot like I usually do in these situations and blow the whole
thing.
So instead of being happy with anticipation and looking forward
to playing hard to get, my mood deteriorated to one of despair
and helplessness. This always seemed to happen with me when I
had a chance to make it with a woman, and I cursed myself for
being so neurotic.
I no longer wanted to be seduced. I felt so confused and out
of control that I didn't think I could resist her charms and
act in my own best interests any more. I feared succumbing to
whatever it was that she might offer me, and then agree with
Rachael to terms decidedly to my disadvantage. I felt naked
and scared. In the back of my mind I realized this was
illogical, but my fear was so strong and I felt so vulnerable
that I couldn't make logic prevail. In a state of near panic I
vowed to resist everything Mary might do.
Just then the door opened and Mary flounced back in. She made
a point of locking the door behind her and winking at me, and
then she plopped down on the couch next to me. She gave me a
lewd smile and started slowly reaching into a bag she had with
her. But before she got very far, I blurted out in panic,
"Wait, Mary, wait."
She stopped reaching for the bag and slowly lowered her hands
to her lap and gave me a questioning look. She stared at me
patiently while I struggled with myself. She didn't seem the
slightest bit upset or even surprised at my obvious anxiety.
Finally, under the pressure of her stare I started talking,
trying to get her to stop flirting with me: "OK, Mary, uh, look
..."
"Yeah?" she queried with a friendly smile.
I was getting more and more confused and panicked. All I had
to do was to become cool, thank her for the magazine, and then
ignore her. But that sort of thing takes composure and at
least some strength and confidence. I had none of those right
then, and so I just helplessly pleaded, "Like, uh, why, Mary?
Uh, why are you doing this?"
She looked innocently surprised and asked, "'Why'? I'm not
sure I know what you're asking. Why did I get you the
magazine?"
"Well, uh ... yeah ... I want to know that, but also ..." it
was hard to get to the point -- I didn't know how to say I
suspected her of trying to seduce me. What if I was wrong --
what a fool I'd feel like then. So I lamely continued my
question: "... I mean, why are you ... are you, you know ...
being this way with me?"
"Well first," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation, "I
got you the magazine because I thought you'd like it ..."
('Like hell!' I thought suspiciously. 'You got it to seduce
me. And cut out the fake innocence.' But I didn't have enough
guts to actually say anything like that to her) "... but I'm
still not sure about your other question," she was saying.
"Are you asking why I'm being nice to you?"
She seemed a little hurt, but I didn't believe it. I wanted to
say, "No. I'm asking why you're being such a slut with me.
Did Rachael put you up to it? How much is she giving you for
this?" But instead, all I could get up enough courage to say
was, "Well ... yeah ..." I was whining "... I mean, you've
never been this ... this nice to me before and ... and, well,
I'm a little surprised and ... and, well, I guess I'm just
wondering why."
Never missing a beat she replied, "I want you to enjoy
yourself, Al." She lowered her voice and gave me a provocative
look and continued, "I'm just trying to help."
I suddenly noticed that despite my panic and anger, she was
starting to turn me on. She looked so sexy there right in
front of me, and her flirty moves were having their effect.
But I forced myself to ignore that and snapped back
sarcastically, "Right. And this is just all out of your
altruistic love for your fellow man."
She was totally unfazed by my anger and her demeanor became
more serious, although no less provocative. She calmly
answered, "Not really. I'm not a self-sacrificing person and I
don't do things that aren't in my own best interest."
I had thought so! Her true nature just came through: tough and
self-serving. I no longer doubted she was in cahoots with
Rachael. "So what _is_ your interest here?" I snapped back.
"Surely it's not because you want ... you want ..." I started
choking on my words, because I couldn't bring myself to say
"want my body", even in the negative context I was trying to
use it. That's how deep my phobia about making sexual advances
is.
She kept her serious, provocative gaze on me and interrupted,
"It doesn't matter what I want -- what's important right now is
what _you_ want."
Damn it, she was a pro! I was ambivalent, caught between
wanting to get out of there and wanting to stay and get swept
up in Mary's apparent seduction. If we started focusing on
what _I_ want, she'd use my ambivalence to twist me around her
little finger.
I felt desperate to get off of the subject of what I want and
said, "But Mary, it _does_ matter what you want, because ..."
She interrupted again. "No, it doesn't matter. I'm _very_
capable of taking care of myself and of getting what I want.
You needn't be concerned about that. All you should think
about is what _you_ want ..."
I felt weak and powerless, and I didn't know what to do next.
I was actually trembling with fear and I'm sure she saw it. My
panic increased.
Mary had only paused a second and then went on, "... and I know
what you want, Al." She stared into my eyes for a moment and
she no doubt saw me weaken. I felt a wave of despair as she
said, "You want to see some pictures of naked women," and a
wave of sexual arousal went through me. Her expression told me
that she knew then that I would stay for anything she had to
dish out. So much for my vow to resist her.
She shifted her position on the couch next to me -- she got up
on her knees and then sat on her calves facing me. Her skirt
was bunched up a little bit and it rode up an inch or two above
her knees. She reached into the bag, bringing out a 'Club'
magazine and said, "I thought you'd like this better than
'Penthouse'." She tossed it on my lap, saying, "It's much
sexier."
I had to admit to myself that she knew what she was talking
about. I'd spent many an hour masturbating to the pictures and
pornographic stories in 'Club'. This masturbation of mine was
quite private and quite intense: I would get lost in hot
fantasies, sometimes for hours while teasing and stroking my
cock, balls, and body. I felt quite vulnerable and was
terrified at the prospect of her finding out how much I loved
to play with myself that way. I was glad Mary had tossed the
magazine on my lap, since I wanted to make sure she couldn't
see the hard-on that was beginning to rise in my pants.
On the cover of the magazine was a very sexy, shapely blonde
woman wearing only a G-string. Her palms covered the fronts of
her bare breasts, but only enough to hide her nipples and not
much more. The crotch of the G-string was a small, frilly,
black triangle that barely covered her pussy. This photo
turned me on quite a bit, and I made a mental note to get a
copy of this issue to take back home with me that night.
Speaking slowly, softly, and deliberately, Mary said, "She
turns you on, doesn't she?"
She startled me and I jumped in my seat. Reflexively I said
no, but Mary just looked at me like she knew I was lying. Her
gaze was strong and unwavering and I broke down and stammered,
"Well, yeah, I like her."
"So lets have a sexual fantasy with her, Al."
I was flabbergasted and I looked up at her with pleading
confusion in my eyes.
"Come on, Al," she shrugged with mock non-chalance, "it'll be
fun."
I was terrified. "Well ... I, uh ... I don't know ... maybe I
shouldn't ..."
She ignored my protests. "I love sexual fantasy," she said
cheerfully and with more wholesome-sounding naivete than I
could believe. "Come on, Al, let's have one now. Rachael
won't be done for at least 15 minutes."
"I don't know ... how can you be sure that she ..."
"I know, Al," she interrupted. "Rachael won't be free until at
least 6:30."
I noticed it was then 6:15. Mary's certainty about this
reinforced my suspicion that Rachael and she were in this
together. No doubt they arranged for me to be alone with Mary
until 6:30.
Despite these thoughts, I still found myself wanting to be
seduced. This scared me, as a part of me feared what I was
letting myself in for. The conflict was beginning to drive me
crazy. "I don't know, Mary," I sighed. "I mean ... it's nice
of you to offer ... _very_ nice of you, as a matter of fact
... it's just that ... well ... right here ... is ... it's so
... so public, and ... uh ..." I looked down and let my words
trail off. I was paralyzed with indecision and fear.
After letting me sit there like that for a moment, Mary
suddenly said, "Al ..." the fake wholesome sweetness was
completely gone from her voice and she spoke with strength and
more than a little sexual power.
I looked up and when our eyes met she continued "... I can tell
you like to have sexual fantasies when looking at magazines
like this ..."
I sighed defeatedly. I didn't want her to know that.
"... and I think you'd even like it better with me helping
you."
She waited for my reply, but all I did was sigh and gesture
helplessly. Finally, she went on, her voice low, sultry, and
almost threatening: "You want to ... much, much more than
you're letting on, Al. We both know you'd love it."
"Well ... I guess so," I murmurred.
"I _know_ so, Al." She paused, boring into me with her gaze.
I squirmed uncomfortably, but finally decided to acquiece to
her. What harm would there be in looking at the magazine, I
thought to myself as I hesitantly nodded my acceptance.
"So look at her, Al," Mary said, the matter now settled. She
pointed to the sexy woman on the cover of the magazine, still
on my lap. "I can tell you like her." Her manner was slow and
deliberate, and she never lowered her eyes from mine. "But
don't you want to see her naked?"
I smiled sheepishly and nodded. She saw my reaction but she
pretended not to have noticed it, and she continued, a bit more
insistently, "Wouldn't you like to see her naked breasts, Al?
Don't you want to see her nipples?" She emphasized the word
"nipples" and pushed her chest out slightly. The motion was
subtle, but she did it slowly without lowering her gaze from
mine, which made it impossible to ignore. I couldn't help but
lower my eyes to Mary's chest, and I then noticed that her
nipples were erect. I caught myself and quickly looked back
into her eyes, hoping in vain that she didn't see me gaze at
her breasts. But she was just staring at me with a knowing,
confident look that made me gasp.
I suddenly panicked and looked away, down at the magazine, back
at her, off into space, and back at her again. As soon as our
eyes finally met again, she said, always slowly and
deliberately, "And don't you want to see her pussy, Al?"
She paused, staring, and then continued, "Wouldn't you like to
look up between her legs and see her crotch -- her naked cunt?"
With those words Mary again made a slow, subtle motion, this
time shifting her weight slightly so that her legs spread apart
a little bit. I found myself looking towards her well-covered
crotch as her hemline rode up maybe a half inch higher on her
thighs. But I couldn't see up her skirt, much as I wanted to.
Again I went into a panic as I realized that she knew I was
staring. I was getting quite scared, but also rather aroused.
After our eyes met again, she said, always slowly and
deliberately, "I know you want to see her, Al. Here ..." she
picked up the magazine, revealing the bulge in my pants. She
made a point of looking down at it and then slowly raised her
intent gaze back to my eyes. She said nothing about my
erection, but her gestures were enough to let me know she was
aware of it. She continued, "... let me show you where she's
posing nude."
She thumbed through the magazine until she found what she was
looking for, and then she laid it back down on my lap. The
model was in a bedroom setting, totally naked, bending over the
top of the dresser with her ass pointed out at the camera.
There was a mirror behind the dresser which showed the model's
naked breasts. She was looking in the mirror right into the
camera with a nasty, lewd expression on her face. One of her
hands was on her ass cheek, pulling it open.
Never ceasing to speak slowly and deliberately, Mary said,
"Look at her nipples." She paused a moment and continued, "And
what an ass she has! Do you like her ass, Al?"
Mary looked at me, waiting for a reply. I was practically
paralyzed with terror, but I swallowed thickly and managed to
force myself to say, "Yes, I like ... it." I couldn't bring
myself to say the words "her ass".
"What a hot fantasy woman for you, Al! Imagine being there
with her ... staring at her naked body. She doesn't mind ...
she wants you to stare. She's posing for you ... right there
in front of you ... naked, spreading her ass for you. See how
she's looking at you? She knows how much she's turning you on.
She's telling you something, Al. Do you know what she's
saying?"
"Uh ... no, um ... I ... I, uh ..." I stammered, nearly unable
to speak but realizing that I was starting to enjoy what Mary
was doing to me -- in spite of my nervousness.
"She's telling you she wants you to take out that big, long
cock of yours and jack off for her."
I sighed nervously.
"She wants you to, Al. She knows how much you love to jack off
and she wants to help you. She does, Al. She wants to play
with her ass ... to fuck her asshole with her finger ... and
to look you deeply in the eyes and talk really dirty to you ...
to tell you what she's doing to her herself ... to tell you to
keep stroking that hot penis of yours."
Mary paused. I looked up at her, the beads of sweat starting
to drip down my forehead. She stared right through me. I
couldn't hold her gaze and I looked down at the picture and
then nervously around the room.
"Look at her, Al," Mary whispered throatily.
I looked back down at the picture, and she said, "I bet you
love jacking off to photos like this."
I gasped and went into a panic, stammering idiotic-sounding
denials: "No, uh ... not really ... I mean ... well, it's not
... I ..."
She softly but firmly interrupted me, just saying "Al" and
staring at me. I stopped my yammering and she continued, a bit
more deliberately and intensely, "You love how it feels to
squeeze and stroke your cock while looking at her, don't you,
Al?"
I started my protests again, but before I could say much she
cut me off: "Don't deny it, Al. I know you do." She stared at
me, waiting for a reply.
I sighed and tried to deny what she was saying, "Mary ... it's
not what you think ... really it isn't ... I mean, I guess I
sometimes ... well ... Mary, damnit, this is so difficult ...
don't you understand that ..."
She cut me off in mid sentence, ignoring everything I was
trying to say. "Your long penis feels so good when it hardens
in your hand, doesn't it, Al?"
Damn her! But I was paralyzed with fear. I hadn't wanted her
to know about my masturbation, and I felt totally demoralized
to see how much she was able to infer. All I could do was
stare at her with my mouth open, my semi-hard cock twitching
under the magazine on my lap. Despite my fear I was intensely
aroused and mesmerized by her.
She continued, slowly and deliberately, never lowering her gaze
from my eyes, "Yeah, you love feeling it get hard as you stroke
it. You tickle your balls with the fingers of your other hand.
You spread your legs wide and you thrust your hips in rhythm
... in rhythm to the way you squeeze your prick with your fist.
It's all covered with oil and you slide your hand up and down
your burning, hard shaft as you pump your wet, spurting cum all
over her ass."
I was trembling and nervously fidgeting under her gaze. After
a pause of a couple seconds she continued, "You love to do
that, Al, don't you?"
I looked down sheepishly. She quietly said, "Look at me, Al."
I looked back up into her eyes and she continued insistently,
but still slowly: "You love making sperm come out of your
penis, don't you?"
I murmurred, barely audibly, "Well, I ..."
She interrupted, even more insistently, "Yes you do, Al. You
love shooting it out all over the place. And you like to watch
your penis as your semen spurts out. You stare at that creamy,
white, thick sperm all over your penis, slowly, thickly oozing
down all over it. Your sweet penis gets so wet and slippery,
and you love playing with your sperm on you ... rubbing your
fingertips in it, smearing it into your soft, slippery penis."
Another slight pause. "You do that, don't you, Al?"
I was almost beyond resisting. She had me mesmerized and quite
aroused. I managed to feebly protest, "Well ... no ... but I
guess ... well, some of what you said, anyway, but ..."
"All of it," she corrected. "Every thing I described. Don't
deny it," she said over more of my protests. "You can hardly
wait to get home, open up the magazine to this picture, and
take out your cock and jack off -- just like I just described.
Don't deny it, Al. I know you can hardly stop thinking about
what your sperm is going to look and feel like all over your
dick when you make yourself cum."
"Mary, please ..." I protested feebly, the words choking in my
throat.
"It's OK, Al. I understand." She spoke more softly and
kindly. "Really, Al. Now listen to me."
She paused and I looked at her to hear what she had to say.
"You're embarrassed and scared of what I know about you," she
continued. "Most men don't like women to know that they like
to masturbate. They think it makes them less virile and macho.
Well, Al, I don't care about any of that. Whatever you like to
do to yourself is just fine with me, believe me."
I nodded, although I was quite skeptical. She went on, "So Al,
I understand how nervous you are that I know about your
masturbation, but I assure you I won't tell anyone. Not a
single person, Al. I promise."
She seemed sincere, but I didn't trust her. I'm sure my
skepticism showed on my face, because she continued, "No, Al.
Really. I really mean it. I give you my most solemn assurance
that I'll keep my word and never betray you." Her voice became
an intimate whisper: "It'll be our secret, Al -- our intimate,
totally private little secret."
She leaned forward and touched my arm. "I'm glad I know some
of your private pleasures, Al," she whispered. "It's so
special, so exciting to have someone with whom you can share
your forbidden secrets."
She moved really close and whispered very, very softly while
staring into my eyes. "Such sweet secrets, Al: all alone at
home, nude on your bed, your eyes closed, your penis all
covered with oil. It feels _so_ good to slide your fist up and
down your slippery, hard shaft ... ohhhhh, so _good_ ...
imagining that woman in the magazine ... that nude woman ...
standing over you ... making you jack off for her ... making
you pump out all your sperm ... such intimate, hot, _nasty_
secrets, Al."
All the while I was staring, dumbfounded. She put her arms
around my neck and said, "You love your sperm, Al," as she
slowly brought her lips to mine and kissed me long and deeply.
After she was finished she breathed, "Yeah, you _do_ love your
your sperm, Al ... and your penis. It's OK. Don't worry,
baby, it's our secret. Your sperm ..." she kissed me "... and
your _sweet_ penis ..." she kissed me again "... are our
private ..." another kiss "... intimate ..." and another "...
hot ..." and still another "... _nasty_ little secret."
With that she pushed me back down on the couch with her on top
of me, this time hotly embracing me and squirming on me as she
pushed her tongue down my throat and passionately kissed me for
at least a minute or two straight. At first I resisted,
however feebly, but soon I was tightly embracing her, fondling
her ass, and grinding my cock against her willing groin.
After I was drunk and dizzy with desire she stopped and got up
off of me. As I panted and slowly dragged myself up off my
back, I noticed that Mary seemed totally unfazed. She was
quite calm and collected as she said, "Take off your clothes
and masturbate for me, Al."
Still recovering my wits, all I could do was feebly grunt an
incoherent protest, which Mary brushed aside with, "I like
having a man jack off in front of me."
She gave me a slight leer and paused to let her words sink in.
I would willingly masturbate for her, but not here ... not with
Rachael around. I was almost started crying. "But Mary ..." I
stammered, choking on the words, "... please not here ... I'm
so ... I'm so ... well, I'm kinda scared and ..."
"You're more than 'kinda' scared, Al: you're terrified." I
swallowed and nodded. It was all I could do. She continued,
"I want you that way."
I looked up at her, surprised and pained. "It turns you on
when you're scared, Al," she went on, ignoring my pleading
gaze. "Being scared makes you _more_ turned on. Right?" I
looked down and mumbled that she was probably right. "Don't
deny it, Al. You _want_ this ..." she paused until I looked
up into her hard gaze and then she continued, "... you want
this very, _very_ badly, Al."
As she said that she put her hands on her breasts and slowly
lowered them down the sides of her body, her eyes boring
through me. "Feel the fear, Al," she said after her hands
reached her thighs. She got up on her knees and leaned a
little closer to me, saying, "Sex scares you, Al." She grasped
each of my shoulders and moved her face closer to mine. She
licked her lips lewdly and demonicly, and then said, breathing
huskily, "I want you terrified, Al." She cupped my cheeks in
her hands and moved still closer, licking her lips, breathing
heavy, moaning, and making facial expressions as if she was
fucking me or masturbating. I'd never seen anyone act so lewd
and intensely arousing. My cock was hard in my pants. She
then said, "So scared ... and so _hot_ Al! Feel the fear.
Feel how hot you are."
She continued for a few more moments with this and then said,
"I've barely gotten started, Al. This is just the beginning."
She sat back and looked down at my lap. My erect cock bulged
up in my pants. "And look how hard I've got you already."
She looked back into my eyes and said, "Take off your pants and
jack off for me."
I really didn't want to do it right there in the office with
Rachael in the next room. "But Mary," I pleaded. "Not here
... not with Rachael ..."
She interrupted, "Rachael won't come in. She'll buzz me on the
phone first. Don't worry. I meant it when I said I wouldn't
betray your secret. She'll call and I'll just tell her you're
in the bathroom ..." she paused for emphasis "... pissing."
She hissed out the word and then licked her lips.
She paused for a moment, staring, and then continued, "It
wouldn't be far from the truth, you know." Another pause. "I
mean ... if you _were_ in the bathroom, you'd be holding your
cock and watching your hot _piss_ stream out -- and that's what
you're going to be doing here, Al -- except it won't be piss,
of course."
She got up and went to the chair across from me and sat in it,
facing me. She said, just as slowly and deliberately as ever,
"Now masturbate for me." I still did nothing, and she
continued calmly, "I know you want to." A short pause.
"You've been staring at my breasts all night." Another pause.
"I'm going to play with them while you jack off." Always
staring into my eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let
it hang open. She raised her hands to her breasts and slowly
began to caress and tease them.
"Touch your dick, Al," she said, but I still tried to protest.
"Tease it ... tickle it ... come on ... I know you love how it
feels in your hand. Don't you want to hold your penis, Al?
Look at my nipples -- all erect and hard like that hard meat of
yours. I know how sensitive your penis gets when its hard like
this. Come on, Al," she begged mockingly, still squeezing and
caressing her breasts as she stared into my eyes. "I know how
badly you want to slide your hand up and down that rigid prick
of yours ... milking pleasure into it ... milking the cum out
... _squeeeeezing_ it so good like you love to do."
I still was struggling between wanting to run away and hide and
taking out my cock and furiously stroking it for her, and I did
nothing. She stopped rubbing her breasts and said, "Maybe I
should show you how to do it, Al." She reached into her purse
and brought out a rubber, two-headed dildo. Its color,
texture, and look were quite lifelike, although it was at least
a foot long. She put it down next to her on the chair and then
unzipped her skirt about halfway up and opened it wide.
Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly spread her
legs, exposing her naked crotch, and she said, "I took my
panties off when I went out to get you your jack-off book, Al.
Look at my hairy cunt." I noticed that she wasn't a real
blonde, but it didn't matter. The sight of the dark pubic hair
covering her moist pussy really turned me on.
She picked up the dildo and held it out for me to see. "This
is _my_ penis," she said in her slow, deliberate manner.
"Watch me play with it." With that she grasped it around the
shaft with her two hands so that both of its heads were
visible. She slowly lowered it down her body, rubbing one of
the heads against her breasts and nipples, and then her
stomach, groin, and to her pussy. All this time she kept
intensely, seductively gazing into my eyes. I was mesmerized
by her.
She then positioned one of its heads between her legs, and
holding it completely still with the other head pointed out at
me, she pushed it inside of her by slowly grinding and gyrating
her hips. Keeping a firm grasp on it with both hands, she
began to fuck herself with it solely by moving her body -- not
the dildo. Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly
and deliberately bumped and grinded, the now moist end of the
dildo pushing rhythmically, hotly, and hypnotically in and out
of her grasping pussy. After a short while, she increased the
pace of her gyrations, but not too fast and still very
deliberately so as to maximize the effect she was having on me
as I watched her.
All the while she kept her eyes glued to mine, and I found it
more and more difficult to resist stroking my cock as I watched
her sexily writhe before me, the dildo sliding in and out of
her thrusting crotch. Soon she said, "Look at my cock, Al.
See it sliding in and out of my cunt." With that she lifted
herself up slightly so that only the head of was in her, and
she rotated her hips, making the dildo bend and squirm. She
said, "Oooooooh, _fuck_ me!" and sat back down so that the
dildo slid way up in her. She repeated that sequence a few
times, each time making me less and less able to resist
touching and squeezing my own cock.
Then, she stopped and let go of the end. About half of the
dildo was in her, leaving about 6 inches or so sticking out.
The lifelike dildo looked like a cock sticking out of her. She
just sat there for a minute so I could stare at her.
Then, she squirmed out of her blouse and stood up, unzipping
her skirt the rest of the way and tossing it on the chair
behind her. She was totally naked now except for her
high-heeled shoes and the end of the dildo sticking out of her.
"Look at my cock, Al," she said, reaching down with one hand
and lightly tickling the shaft and head of the dildo with her
fingers. "It's so sexy, isn't it?"
It indeed was, but as soon as I realized that, a wave of fear
shot through me: that penis-like thing turned me on, and I
suddenly worried about being gay. This homophobic fear had a
strange effect on me: it aroused me intensely -- much, much
more than I could sublimate or deny. The more I realized how
much I liked looking at that penis, the more aroused I became
in my fear. My cock grew rigid and pushed the front of my
pants out noticibly.
Mary seemed to be aware of the effect this was having on me.
"Look at my penis, Al," she said. She moved her hips from side
to side, causing the cock to shake, too. Watching it wiggle, I
felt a palpable surge pulsate through my penis and groin. I'd
never before experienced such a pronounced reaction in my penis
without touching it. It felt as if I could almost cum just
from watching Mary sexily making her penis-like thing move for
me. This homosexual response scared the hell out of me, and my
arousal grew with my anxiety.
"Let's touch our cocks together, Al," Mary was saying. "Come
on," she said with a seductive, mock-pleading tone, "Don't you
want to get nude with me and rub our penises together?"
I was beyond speech by this point. Besides, I'm sure Mary
intended it to be a rhetorical question.
"I want to touch the head of your dick with mine," she
continued. "Ohhhh, yeah -- so good, so hot -- right on the tip
where your sperm comes out ... yeah! Just sorta ... _push_
'em together ..." She moved her hips to illustrate how she was
going to push. Another spasm went through my penis and groin,
this time causing me to close my eyes and moan sharply with
pleasure.
"Oh _yeah_ Al," she panted seductively. "Feels so damn good
inside your dick, eh? Well this ain't nothin', Al. We've
barely gotten started."
I smiled weakly.
"Now get up and get nude," she demanded suddenly. "_Now_ Al!"
she ordered, when she saw that I was still hesitating. I was
no longer able to do anything but obey her. As I nervously
fumbled with my shoes, socks, pants, shirt and finally my
underwear, Mary was saying, "I want to rub the head of my cock
down your shaft ... yeah ... to your balls ... oh yeah, it
feels so good to rub our penises together ... I'll push my head
right there on the base of your cock ... right there where the
bottom of your penis meets your balls ... I'll rub it right
there, right where you first feel your cum flowing up the
inside of your dick ... push a little there ... then slide it
back up the underside of your penis to right under the rim ...
on the bottom there right where it meets your shaft ... and
push on it there a little, too ..."
She removed the dildo, turned it around, and put it back inside
of her with the heads reversed. The one that was previously in
her was now pointing at me -- I could see it shine with her
juices.
"It's all wet now, Al. My hot penis is all wet and slippery
for you ... so slippery against your dick, Al. Come on, damn
it!" she said insistently, "Hurry up and take off those
underpants and come over here," her voice was filled with
seductive, mock urgency. "I can't stand it any more -- hurry up
and let me rub my hot, wet dick against yours ... yeah ... so
slippery and throbbing ... oh hurry ... rub your cock on mine
... PLEASE!"
I was finally out of my clothes and I stumbled to her ... I was
dizzy with lust and couldn't stand well. "You're too tall for
me," she hissed, as she stood up on her toes and pretended to
be surprised that our penises still could barely touch. "My
dick won't reach yours, damnit! Lie down on the floor ... on
your back ... I want to kneel over you and rub _dicks_", lewdly
emphasizing the word "dicks" by leeringly licking her lips as
she hissed out the word.
I was on my back in a flash and she was soon straddling me on
all fours, her dildo poised right above my rigid, throbbing
penis. Lowering it down against mine, she did pretty much what
she said she would: first she pushed its head against mine and
bounced very, very slightly. The sensations made me gasp so
loudly it was almost a yell.
She then just started moving her hips from side to side,
causing the dildo to rub and glide against my penis. Our
shafts would meet and the slippery sensations drove me wild.
While she did this, she was rhythmically speaking in a low,
chanting, seductive whisper: "... ohhhhh ... rub it ... yeah
... so hot ... the shaft ... oh, oh! ... yeah ... slippery hot
penis against mine ... your big penis ... look at our penises,
Al ... yeah ... so hot ... makes you spasm ... yeah ... penis
spasm ... yeah ... such a long hard dick, Al ... rub our dicks
together ... please! ... oh, yeah ... you love dicks so much,
Al ... oh yeah ... my dick makes you so hot ... so long and
hard ... throbbing ..."
She then leaned down and rested her chest on mine, holding my
arms down with hers. But she was still kneeling, her ass up in
the air and her dildo still rubbing against my increasingly
aroused cock. Rubbing her breasts against my chest as well,
and looking me deep in the eye from just a few inches away, she
said with a mock pout, "Oh baby, my dick is getting dry." It
indeed was. "Make it wet for me, honey. Please! Please cum
on my dick." She moved so that the head of her dildo was at
the base of my cock and its shaft was against my balls. Slowly
sliding the head of her penis-thing up the length of my shaft,
she moaned, "I want your _sperm_ all over my big, long, huge,
throbbing DICK!"
Just as she said "DICK", the head of her dildo reached that
spot she described on the underside of my penis, right where
the shaft meets the rim. With that, I felt the first hot,
burning load of semen flowing up my penis and exploding out of
the head. As spasm after spasm of cum gushed out of me, Mary
kept lightly pushing and sliding her dildo all over my penis.
"Oh yeah!" she was panting in time with my spasms and moans.
"Gimme your sperm, Al. All over my hot dick. Yeah! Cum all
over my penis, Al. Ohhhh, so wet and hot. Yeah! More! Such
a hot penis ... such a turnon for you to see and feel my penis
all over yours ... oh yeah ... you love my penis ... you love
looking at it ... you love feeling it ... and you really love
cumming all over it ... oh, what a sweet penis boy you are!"
-- to be continued --
--