Himura BattousaiChapter 55 the Request of Okubo Toshimichi
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I looked up from my dreamy haze and couldn’t believe my eyes. His hand was pushing softly against the bulge in his pants as he watched me point and pose my legs. Instead of feeling repulsed, an electric shock coursed through my body, happy to be the object of his desire.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I should tell you how this all came about. I am a happily married 30 year old woman. I know everyone with a story like this says they’re happily married. But, really, I am. It’s just that my husband is in the clothing business and is required to take all-too frequent 3-week long trips to China…and I get sooo horny. If he is away on those days before my period, the sexual tension becomes unbearable.
During one of these trips, a male co-worker approached me at the end of the work day with a proposition that both flattered and, to say the least, flustered me. He complemented me on my clothes and overall sense of style. He was, especially complimentary of my selection of high heels which he said accentuated the shapeliness of “your beautiful legs”.
We have worked together for several years, but he had never joked, flirted or even hinted at anything the least bit untoward before. I couldn’t believe that he was suddenly showering me with compliments. I do spend a lot of time preening myself for men to admire, so I couldn’t exactly be mad because he had noticed.
I had learned long ago that a pair of shapely legs in a nice pair of heels are a magnet for some men. It was a short skirt and high heels that first caught my husband’s attention. I was blessed with strong, but not overly muscular calves that taper down to a narrow ankle and small feet with high arches that many “leg men” prefer. So, it wasn’t terribly surprising to me that they had attracted the attention of my co-worker.
What was surprising was his request for me to put on a leg show for his exclusive benefit.
Well, I feel like I discretely put on a show every day for men who enjoy a woman with nice legs, but I had never entertained the idea of putting on a private show for just one. He told me he was tired of trying to steal furtive glances at me as I walked into and out of our office. He wanted to be able to look and admire me openly.
Although he had approached me in a gentlemanly fashion, I couldn’t believe he had had the audacity to approach me with something so incredible. Blood rushed to my face and I turned around to abruptly walk away from him.
But, that night I couldn’t get his proposal out of my head. I thought about how flattering it was to be asked. I thought about how many times he must have looked at me with lascivious thoughts. I wondered if he had ever gone to sleep fantasizing about me. The thought of being a turn-on for him began to make me feel warm.
I have acted out exhibitionist tendencies before. Once, before I was married, I had gone into a hotel bar in a city that I was visiting on business where no one knew me. I wore a yellow summer dress, no stockings and, yes, matching yellow stiletto heels. Sitting on a stool, I purposely crossed and uncrossed my well-tanned legs, waiting to see if I would attract any attention. Soon enough, there were men circled around me like bees swarming to honey. I thoroughly enjoyed being the queen bee. I allowed my dress to ride up to expose more and more of my thighs. Soon, so much thigh was showing, my nearly see-through panties (yellow, of course) were peeking out from under the skirt, too. Rather than cover up, I acted as though I hadn’t noticed and just let my glory show through. After all, no one there knew me. The guys were grinning from ear to ear as they jockeyed for position to get a better view. I was enjoying letting them have a peek of the honey pot which was turning warm and wet from the hot stares it was getting. At the end of the night they ALL offered to show me the way to my room, hoping they would get to enjoy a taste of nectar.
It could have been quite a night, but I was more into the tease than in actually doing it with a stranger. To their dismay, and, I think, contrary to their expectations given how revealing I had been, I retired to my room…by myself. What I did in that room by myself is a story for another time.
Well, it was one thing to exhibit myself semi-anonymously, it would be quite another to do it in front of someone you worked with and saw nearly every day. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be up for the complications this could create, but like I said, I get unbearably horny when my husband is away and my thinking may not have been as rational as normal. The thought of reenacting what had happened in that bar hotel, but in a more intimate situation began to have some appeal. But, ground rules would have to be set.
The next day I agreed to his proposal under the following conditions. I would dress the way I come to work. Nothing more revealing than that. There would be no touching or photographs. He would have to satisfy himself with that.
We agreed he would stop by for a “visit” at eight the next night. I know its risky inviting a man to your home, but, again, I had known him for years…and I wasn’t thinking rationally.
That whole day my emotions shifted back and forth from apprehension to anticipation. I spent the day deciding what to wear…nothing too suggestive, but nothing too conservative either. In the end I went with black high heels, black stockings, a mid-thigh black skirt and a black sleeve-less knit top. This was less sedate than I would typically wear to work, but it wasn’t overly provocative either.
When the doorbell rang at the appointed hour, I had to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I thought about not answering, but that would have been impolite. I can’t believe that I was worried about being rude, but that was the final thought I had and I went with it.
I opened the door and nervously invited him. While I had not agreed to his proposal with the intent of being unfaithful, I was aware that what I had agreed to was not entirely innocent. And, I must confess to feeling a little titillated by being alone with a man other than my husband.
I led him to a seat at the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure how to start the show, so I busied myself giving him something to drink. Not wanting to fuel the fires, I gave him a soft drink rather than anything with alcohol.
I placed myself on a stool across from him at the counter island in the middle of our kitchen with my right leg crossed over my left as we made small talk. Slowly his gaze began to shift downward from my eyes to my legs, reminding me of why he was there in the first place. Somewhat out of nervousness I began to cross and uncross my legs. As I did, he looked at me…or should I say my legs…openly and intently. I began to warm under the heat of his gaze.
His warm gaze soon turned to hot leers which spurred increasing feelings of arousal in me. The more openly he leered, the more suggestively I folded and unfolded my legs for his purview. It seemed like one action was feeding the other. I found myself succumbing to the sexual energy that was building in the room. I could feel my clit beginning to swell.
I got up from the stool and began to slowly walk around the kitchen. Actually, it was more of a strut than a walk. I felt like a glamorous showgirl being admired… no…worshipped like a sexual goddess.
I wondered if showgirls are in a constant state of sexual heat from all the hot stares they get. I know I was warmed up. I could feel my panties getting moist.
I slowly pirouetted so he could take in all of me. It all felt so wonderfully safe, secure and…naughty.
I moved closer to him, slowly lifting my skirt to reveal the lacey tops of my black sheer stockings. Oh so slowly I continued raising the skirt until my upper thigh was exposed, too. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head in anticipation of viewing more than just my legs.
I was about to give him a peek, but thought better of it and let the hem of the skirt fall back in place.
I sat down in a chair that was right in front of him and crossed my legs so that the calf of my right leg rested on the knee of my left.
I reached down and loosened the heel of my shoe from my foot, letting it dangle from my toes before gently falling to the floor. I pulled my skirt up to the top of my stockings and slowly rolled one of them down the length of my leg. He watched with intensity as more and more of my naked skin was revealed.
When my leg was fully unsheathed, I stretched my foot toward his crotch, looked deep into his eyes, and rested it on the seat of the chair between his legs. It would have been easy for him to reach down to touch me and, even, pull my foot three or four inches to the bulge that was clearly evident in his crotch. But, he remained the perfect gentleman that he is at work.
As for me, I was as randy as I could be and was ready for him to violate our agreement. If he had made a move, I would have spread my legs and let him devour me right there on the kitchen floor. I wasn’t sure where this was going to go. I excused myself to go to the bathroom to try to pull myself together…unsuccessfully.
When I returned I suggested that we go into the living room where it would be more comfortable. Once in the living room, I led him to the sofa and sat on the couch across from him.
I resumed the show by lifting and flexing the muscles of my legs…one still encased in stockings and the other nude. I languidly stretched and posed. I was intoxicated by the nearly hypnotized state he seemed to be in.
I closed my eyes in an effort to burn all that was happening into my memory. It was a blissful moment that I wanted to be able to replay in my mind over and over. This memory, with the help of my hands, would get me through those horny nights to come without my husband around to tend to my needs.
As I said at the start of this story, when I opened my eyes I found him touching the bulge in his pants. An electric jolt shot through my body. Although we had not explicitly prohibited touching himself, it didn’t seem to be in the spirit of our agreement but I wasn’t about to stop him.
Watching him was deliciously erotic. I had never seen a man touch himself before. His open display of a normally private act was thrilling beyond my ability to express in words. I was flattered that just looking at me, in a fully-clothed state, well, except for one leg, was enough to drive him to humble himself before me.
I lifted my gaze from his groin to his face. He muttered an apology and added “I just couldn’t help myself.” The idea that his self-control had finally given way to uncontrolled lust added to the excitement of what I was witnessing. I gave him a smile which seemed to ease any concerns he might have had that I was offended. I just wanted him to continue pleasuring himself…and me. I felt like a jumble of electrons ready to explode.
I heard him softly groan as I lifted my left leg, arched my foot and pointed my toes toward him. My eyes stayed glued to his hand as he slowly moved it down along the length of his shaft. I wanted to see more.
I beckoned him to come closer to the couch. As he stood above me, I looked into his eyes again, reached up and nervously unbuckled his belt. He gently bit his lip while I unzipped his pants. As I pulled the zipper, my hand “accidently” rubbed against that bulge in his pants. I couldn’t believe how emboldened I had become.
When he was fully unzipped, I pulled his pants down to reveal bulging briefs, stretched to the limit by his hard-on. I took his hand and placed it back on his penis.
I laid back down on the couch. With my right foot I traced the length of my left leg from the toes to the knee.
He pressed his hand against his penis while he watched my foot continue tracing the contours of my outstretched left leg. I don’t know if I had ever been so aroused. I was both the exhibitionist and the voyeur. My clit throbbed from the doubly exciting experience. My swollen breasts were begging to be freed from my now tightly fitting bra. I was wishing I had elected not to wear one.
I pulled back both my legs to my chest and than extended them again. The elongating motion caused the calf muscles to tighten and strain against the confines of my one remaining stocking. He slowly pulled and squeezed his dick through the fabric. Wet spots began to appear through his briefs. Watching him milk the cream from his dick was drawing my own cream from my vagina into my panties.
I was surprised by how gently and lovingly he treated his penis. I had expected male masturbation to be a more violent affair.
My nipples grew stiffer than they had ever been before. I wanted desperately to pull and knead them the way he was doing with his penis, but I held back because I really wanted to see what had turned into his show and not put on one of my own that was more adventurous than what I had promised.
I reached up again to pull the top of his briefs away from his body to reveal a glimpse of what was a very stiff hard-on. Another jolt of electricity shot through me at the sight of the first penis other than my husbands I had seen since I got married. I must say my co-worker had a dick he could be proud of.
I continued pulling the elastic band down and away from his body. His penis, which had been held in a downward direction by his briefs, sprang upward in an elegant arc from his thighs to his stomach and then settled back down to point straight at me. A soft groan came from deep inside of me.
A drop of semen was perched on the tip of his penis. I wanted to lick it off. As much as I love the taste of pre-cum and the feel of a warm, pulsating dick in my mouth, I resisted the temptation, fearing what would happen if I became that emboldened.
I laid down on the couch. This time unencumbered by anything that would restrict me from seeing his very ample manhood. With unbridled lust he began to put on a show for me unlike any other I had ever seen.
He placed his thumb and forefinger on the base of his penis and shook it back and forth from side to side. The drop of semen flew off and landed on my thigh causing another groan to escape from my throat.
He pulled his member down, and in a move I never expected, rubbed it against his thigh. He repeated this over and over again as I pointed and un-pointed my toes. I felt like I was a puppeteer controlling the movements of her marionette. It was sooo exciting.
As he continued watching me, he pulled back his penis with one hand so it was flat against his stomach. With his other hand he lightly rubbed the underside from the tip to the base and back up again. When he got to the top, he would give the head a little twist with his fingers which were getting sticky from the pre-cum that oozed out with each twist. Up and down, over and over he repeated this movement. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. If he had licked his fingers, I think it would have. As I said, I have always enjoyed the taste of cum and I wondered if men did, too.
As he watched, I spread my legs and lightly traced a meandering path with my fingernails from my knees down to my thighs. I was tempted to keep sliding my hand down to relieve the pressure on my throbbing clit. The urge to join him in the self-pleasuring was nearly impossible to resist. I had to roll back my lips into my mouth and gently bite them to fight back the impulse. My breathing was getting heavier. His movements were becoming more forceful.
He returned his thumb and forefinger to the base of his dick and began to shake it back and forth as he had done before…only this time the movements were quicker and his cock became a blur of fast moving motion. Pre-cum flew off his hard-on, hitting me in various places along my legs.
I looked deep into his eyes with my mouth open in rapture. I licked my upper lip. My breathing quickened. A breathy “Yesss!”, fell out of my mouth.
My reaction to his show provoked him to put his hand firmly around his dick and begin to rapidly stroke it up and down. This was more like the movement I expected men to do while masturbating.
I began to squirm u*********sly. I can only assume this was my body’s way of funneling the sexual tension overflowing from my genitals into other parts of my body. “Yes, yes. I love it,” I mouthed to him. My pouty look must have sent him over the top because he suddenly froze for a brief moment before his dick began to pump and empty out its load. I couldn’t take it any longer either and blurted out,” Oh...my…god!” Cum soaked into my stocking and I felt the warmth of his wet cream seeping onto my skin.
His body began to go limp, but his penis stayed erect for a few seconds before it too softened and he slumped back to the sofa, exhausted from the release of his own sexual tension.
As for me, I was still aroused. But, I also felt, oh so, full-filled. Feminists would be offended at my acceptance of being treated like a sexual object, but I felt wonderful and empowered by having driven a man to perform that most intimate act right in front of me. I felt a sense of pride at having broken through this male veneer and driven him to reveal how he makes love to himself when no one is around. I wanted to wrap myself around him and thank him for exposing (literally) his vulnerability to me. But, I resisted the urge, choosing instead to help him get dressed and out the door.
Once he had gone, I went up to my bed to expose my own vulnerability. I mentally recalled the events of the evening, and gave in to the urges to touch and feel myself that I had resisted earlier.
I played with my body uninhibitedly as I thought about how he had played with himself while watching me. I was tingly all over from the sensations I was giving myself.
I wanted to go on forever, but I felt myself go over the edge, finally shuddering in ecstasy from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
I wasn’t sure how I would face my co-worker when I saw him at work, but for the moment I didn’t really care about anything but the blissful joy I was feeling. My head was filled with thoughts of how I would get my husband to put on a similar show for me. Yum!
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I should tell you how this all came about. I am a happily married 30 year old woman. I know everyone with a story like this says they’re happily married. But, really, I am. It’s just that my husband is in the clothing business and is required to take all-too frequent 3-week long trips to China…and I get sooo horny. If he is away on those days before my period, the sexual tension becomes unbearable.
During one of these trips, a male co-worker approached me at the end of the work day with a proposition that both flattered and, to say the least, flustered me. He complemented me on my clothes and overall sense of style. He was, especially complimentary of my selection of high heels which he said accentuated the shapeliness of “your beautiful legs”.
We have worked together for several years, but he had never joked, flirted or even hinted at anything the least bit untoward before. I couldn’t believe that he was suddenly showering me with compliments. I do spend a lot of time preening myself for men to admire, so I couldn’t exactly be mad because he had noticed.
I had learned long ago that a pair of shapely legs in a nice pair of heels are a magnet for some men. It was a short skirt and high heels that first caught my husband’s attention. I was blessed with strong, but not overly muscular calves that taper down to a narrow ankle and small feet with high arches that many “leg men” prefer. So, it wasn’t terribly surprising to me that they had attracted the attention of my co-worker.
What was surprising was his request for me to put on a leg show for his exclusive benefit.
Well, I feel like I discretely put on a show every day for men who enjoy a woman with nice legs, but I had never entertained the idea of putting on a private show for just one. He told me he was tired of trying to steal furtive glances at me as I walked into and out of our office. He wanted to be able to look and admire me openly.
Although he had approached me in a gentlemanly fashion, I couldn’t believe he had had the audacity to approach me with something so incredible. Blood rushed to my face and I turned around to abruptly walk away from him.
But, that night I couldn’t get his proposal out of my head. I thought about how flattering it was to be asked. I thought about how many times he must have looked at me with lascivious thoughts. I wondered if he had ever gone to sleep fantasizing about me. The thought of being a turn-on for him began to make me feel warm.
I have acted out exhibitionist tendencies before. Once, before I was married, I had gone into a hotel bar in a city that I was visiting on business where no one knew me. I wore a yellow summer dress, no stockings and, yes, matching yellow stiletto heels. Sitting on a stool, I purposely crossed and uncrossed my well-tanned legs, waiting to see if I would attract any attention. Soon enough, there were men circled around me like bees swarming to honey. I thoroughly enjoyed being the queen bee. I allowed my dress to ride up to expose more and more of my thighs. Soon, so much thigh was showing, my nearly see-through panties (yellow, of course) were peeking out from under the skirt, too. Rather than cover up, I acted as though I hadn’t noticed and just let my glory show through. After all, no one there knew me. The guys were grinning from ear to ear as they jockeyed for position to get a better view. I was enjoying letting them have a peek of the honey pot which was turning warm and wet from the hot stares it was getting. At the end of the night they ALL offered to show me the way to my room, hoping they would get to enjoy a taste of nectar.
It could have been quite a night, but I was more into the tease than in actually doing it with a stranger. To their dismay, and, I think, contrary to their expectations given how revealing I had been, I retired to my room…by myself. What I did in that room by myself is a story for another time.
Well, it was one thing to exhibit myself semi-anonymously, it would be quite another to do it in front of someone you worked with and saw nearly every day. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be up for the complications this could create, but like I said, I get unbearably horny when my husband is away and my thinking may not have been as rational as normal. The thought of reenacting what had happened in that bar hotel, but in a more intimate situation began to have some appeal. But, ground rules would have to be set.
The next day I agreed to his proposal under the following conditions. I would dress the way I come to work. Nothing more revealing than that. There would be no touching or photographs. He would have to satisfy himself with that.
We agreed he would stop by for a “visit” at eight the next night. I know its risky inviting a man to your home, but, again, I had known him for years…and I wasn’t thinking rationally.
That whole day my emotions shifted back and forth from apprehension to anticipation. I spent the day deciding what to wear…nothing too suggestive, but nothing too conservative either. In the end I went with black high heels, black stockings, a mid-thigh black skirt and a black sleeve-less knit top. This was less sedate than I would typically wear to work, but it wasn’t overly provocative either.
When the doorbell rang at the appointed hour, I had to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I thought about not answering, but that would have been impolite. I can’t believe that I was worried about being rude, but that was the final thought I had and I went with it.
I opened the door and nervously invited him. While I had not agreed to his proposal with the intent of being unfaithful, I was aware that what I had agreed to was not entirely innocent. And, I must confess to feeling a little titillated by being alone with a man other than my husband.
I led him to a seat at the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure how to start the show, so I busied myself giving him something to drink. Not wanting to fuel the fires, I gave him a soft drink rather than anything with alcohol.
I placed myself on a stool across from him at the counter island in the middle of our kitchen with my right leg crossed over my left as we made small talk. Slowly his gaze began to shift downward from my eyes to my legs, reminding me of why he was there in the first place. Somewhat out of nervousness I began to cross and uncross my legs. As I did, he looked at me…or should I say my legs…openly and intently. I began to warm under the heat of his gaze.
His warm gaze soon turned to hot leers which spurred increasing feelings of arousal in me. The more openly he leered, the more suggestively I folded and unfolded my legs for his purview. It seemed like one action was feeding the other. I found myself succumbing to the sexual energy that was building in the room. I could feel my clit beginning to swell.
I got up from the stool and began to slowly walk around the kitchen. Actually, it was more of a strut than a walk. I felt like a glamorous showgirl being admired… no…worshipped like a sexual goddess.
I wondered if showgirls are in a constant state of sexual heat from all the hot stares they get. I know I was warmed up. I could feel my panties getting moist.
I slowly pirouetted so he could take in all of me. It all felt so wonderfully safe, secure and…naughty.
I moved closer to him, slowly lifting my skirt to reveal the lacey tops of my black sheer stockings. Oh so slowly I continued raising the skirt until my upper thigh was exposed, too. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head in anticipation of viewing more than just my legs.
I was about to give him a peek, but thought better of it and let the hem of the skirt fall back in place.
I sat down in a chair that was right in front of him and crossed my legs so that the calf of my right leg rested on the knee of my left.
I reached down and loosened the heel of my shoe from my foot, letting it dangle from my toes before gently falling to the floor. I pulled my skirt up to the top of my stockings and slowly rolled one of them down the length of my leg. He watched with intensity as more and more of my naked skin was revealed.
When my leg was fully unsheathed, I stretched my foot toward his crotch, looked deep into his eyes, and rested it on the seat of the chair between his legs. It would have been easy for him to reach down to touch me and, even, pull my foot three or four inches to the bulge that was clearly evident in his crotch. But, he remained the perfect gentleman that he is at work.
As for me, I was as randy as I could be and was ready for him to violate our agreement. If he had made a move, I would have spread my legs and let him devour me right there on the kitchen floor. I wasn’t sure where this was going to go. I excused myself to go to the bathroom to try to pull myself together…unsuccessfully.
When I returned I suggested that we go into the living room where it would be more comfortable. Once in the living room, I led him to the sofa and sat on the couch across from him.
I resumed the show by lifting and flexing the muscles of my legs…one still encased in stockings and the other nude. I languidly stretched and posed. I was intoxicated by the nearly hypnotized state he seemed to be in.
I closed my eyes in an effort to burn all that was happening into my memory. It was a blissful moment that I wanted to be able to replay in my mind over and over. This memory, with the help of my hands, would get me through those horny nights to come without my husband around to tend to my needs.
As I said at the start of this story, when I opened my eyes I found him touching the bulge in his pants. An electric jolt shot through my body. Although we had not explicitly prohibited touching himself, it didn’t seem to be in the spirit of our agreement but I wasn’t about to stop him.
Watching him was deliciously erotic. I had never seen a man touch himself before. His open display of a normally private act was thrilling beyond my ability to express in words. I was flattered that just looking at me, in a fully-clothed state, well, except for one leg, was enough to drive him to humble himself before me.
I lifted my gaze from his groin to his face. He muttered an apology and added “I just couldn’t help myself.” The idea that his self-control had finally given way to uncontrolled lust added to the excitement of what I was witnessing. I gave him a smile which seemed to ease any concerns he might have had that I was offended. I just wanted him to continue pleasuring himself…and me. I felt like a jumble of electrons ready to explode.
I heard him softly groan as I lifted my left leg, arched my foot and pointed my toes toward him. My eyes stayed glued to his hand as he slowly moved it down along the length of his shaft. I wanted to see more.
I beckoned him to come closer to the couch. As he stood above me, I looked into his eyes again, reached up and nervously unbuckled his belt. He gently bit his lip while I unzipped his pants. As I pulled the zipper, my hand “accidently” rubbed against that bulge in his pants. I couldn’t believe how emboldened I had become.
When he was fully unzipped, I pulled his pants down to reveal bulging briefs, stretched to the limit by his hard-on. I took his hand and placed it back on his penis.
I laid back down on the couch. With my right foot I traced the length of my left leg from the toes to the knee.
He pressed his hand against his penis while he watched my foot continue tracing the contours of my outstretched left leg. I don’t know if I had ever been so aroused. I was both the exhibitionist and the voyeur. My clit throbbed from the doubly exciting experience. My swollen breasts were begging to be freed from my now tightly fitting bra. I was wishing I had elected not to wear one.
I pulled back both my legs to my chest and than extended them again. The elongating motion caused the calf muscles to tighten and strain against the confines of my one remaining stocking. He slowly pulled and squeezed his dick through the fabric. Wet spots began to appear through his briefs. Watching him milk the cream from his dick was drawing my own cream from my vagina into my panties.
I was surprised by how gently and lovingly he treated his penis. I had expected male masturbation to be a more violent affair.
My nipples grew stiffer than they had ever been before. I wanted desperately to pull and knead them the way he was doing with his penis, but I held back because I really wanted to see what had turned into his show and not put on one of my own that was more adventurous than what I had promised.
I reached up again to pull the top of his briefs away from his body to reveal a glimpse of what was a very stiff hard-on. Another jolt of electricity shot through me at the sight of the first penis other than my husbands I had seen since I got married. I must say my co-worker had a dick he could be proud of.
I continued pulling the elastic band down and away from his body. His penis, which had been held in a downward direction by his briefs, sprang upward in an elegant arc from his thighs to his stomach and then settled back down to point straight at me. A soft groan came from deep inside of me.
A drop of semen was perched on the tip of his penis. I wanted to lick it off. As much as I love the taste of pre-cum and the feel of a warm, pulsating dick in my mouth, I resisted the temptation, fearing what would happen if I became that emboldened.
I laid down on the couch. This time unencumbered by anything that would restrict me from seeing his very ample manhood. With unbridled lust he began to put on a show for me unlike any other I had ever seen.
He placed his thumb and forefinger on the base of his penis and shook it back and forth from side to side. The drop of semen flew off and landed on my thigh causing another groan to escape from my throat.
He pulled his member down, and in a move I never expected, rubbed it against his thigh. He repeated this over and over again as I pointed and un-pointed my toes. I felt like I was a puppeteer controlling the movements of her marionette. It was sooo exciting.
As he continued watching me, he pulled back his penis with one hand so it was flat against his stomach. With his other hand he lightly rubbed the underside from the tip to the base and back up again. When he got to the top, he would give the head a little twist with his fingers which were getting sticky from the pre-cum that oozed out with each twist. Up and down, over and over he repeated this movement. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. If he had licked his fingers, I think it would have. As I said, I have always enjoyed the taste of cum and I wondered if men did, too.
As he watched, I spread my legs and lightly traced a meandering path with my fingernails from my knees down to my thighs. I was tempted to keep sliding my hand down to relieve the pressure on my throbbing clit. The urge to join him in the self-pleasuring was nearly impossible to resist. I had to roll back my lips into my mouth and gently bite them to fight back the impulse. My breathing was getting heavier. His movements were becoming more forceful.
He returned his thumb and forefinger to the base of his dick and began to shake it back and forth as he had done before…only this time the movements were quicker and his cock became a blur of fast moving motion. Pre-cum flew off his hard-on, hitting me in various places along my legs.
I looked deep into his eyes with my mouth open in rapture. I licked my upper lip. My breathing quickened. A breathy “Yesss!”, fell out of my mouth.
My reaction to his show provoked him to put his hand firmly around his dick and begin to rapidly stroke it up and down. This was more like the movement I expected men to do while masturbating.
I began to squirm u*********sly. I can only assume this was my body’s way of funneling the sexual tension overflowing from my genitals into other parts of my body. “Yes, yes. I love it,” I mouthed to him. My pouty look must have sent him over the top because he suddenly froze for a brief moment before his dick began to pump and empty out its load. I couldn’t take it any longer either and blurted out,” Oh...my…god!” Cum soaked into my stocking and I felt the warmth of his wet cream seeping onto my skin.
His body began to go limp, but his penis stayed erect for a few seconds before it too softened and he slumped back to the sofa, exhausted from the release of his own sexual tension.
As for me, I was still aroused. But, I also felt, oh so, full-filled. Feminists would be offended at my acceptance of being treated like a sexual object, but I felt wonderful and empowered by having driven a man to perform that most intimate act right in front of me. I felt a sense of pride at having broken through this male veneer and driven him to reveal how he makes love to himself when no one is around. I wanted to wrap myself around him and thank him for exposing (literally) his vulnerability to me. But, I resisted the urge, choosing instead to help him get dressed and out the door.
Once he had gone, I went up to my bed to expose my own vulnerability. I mentally recalled the events of the evening, and gave in to the urges to touch and feel myself that I had resisted earlier.
I played with my body uninhibitedly as I thought about how he had played with himself while watching me. I was tingly all over from the sensations I was giving myself.
I wanted to go on forever, but I felt myself go over the edge, finally shuddering in ecstasy from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
I wasn’t sure how I would face my co-worker when I saw him at work, but for the moment I didn’t really care about anything but the blissful joy I was feeling. My head was filled with thoughts of how I would get my husband to put on a similar show for me. Yum!
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