I arrive home early and find the apartment empty. You must be out shopping or maybe visiting with friends. I am a little disappointed as I have been feeling horny all afternoon and I was looking forward to having sex with you as soon as I got home. I take off my suit, one of your favorites, a dark blue Italian one. As I unzip the pants I feel my balls tingling in their old familiar way and I can feel my penis stiffening inside my tight briefs making a prominent bulge, the outline of my glans clearly showing though. This is going to be difficult, waiting for you to get home before I can satisfy my urgent male needs. The last garment I shed are those skimpy briefs and I slowly roll them down the curve of my ever-swelling cock, over my tightening balls and down my thighs, the nylon lightly bristling against my fair leg-hairs. As I step out of the rolled-up knot of my briefs my unfettered member, as if possessed of a mind of its own, springs up in its fully erect position, slightly curved like a pink banana. I cannot resist gently wrapping my left hand around it, appreciatively feeling the thick vein running up its underside and sliding my slightly trembling thumb around its wet, sticky end. I audibly suck in my breath with a hiss as a thrill runs through my body, making me tremble slightly as I smear my own clear drops of pre-cum around my silky-smooth cock-end. I cannot wait, you may be some time getting home and I feel the undeniable urge to masturbate myself.
I have always enjoyed masturbation and considered it a manly way to satisfy my strong sexual urges. When I was a young teenager and discovered the joys of onanism around thirteen, I reveled in my coming of age. That I could bring myself to orgasm seemed a rite of passage into maturity. I had joined the ranks of men, leaving finally the chrysalis of childhood forever behind me. It wasn’t just for peeing any more; finally I had discovered, all on my very own, its true vocation. In that quiet bathroom all those years ago I extrapolated all those pleasant feelings I had from touching myself as a baby and toddler to this wonderful, exhilarating conclusion. I have always loved the feel of my own hard cock in my hand and I treasure the slipperiness of my own cum. I like the musky smell of my own semen that I can sometimes detect as I swiftly bring myself to ejaculation and watch the warm spurts of milky semen spurt from the tiny orifice.
I like to relax and enjoy myself at times like these and so I get onto the bed where we have enjoyed so much sex together and settle my back against a couple of pillows, propping up my head so I can watch the action down below. I dribble a few drops of baby oil along my stiff penis and run my index finger up and down the vein, sending a tiny thrill from glans to pubis, like an electric current. Gripping myself loosely at first, so my curled-up fingers and thumb caress my shaft lightly, I slowly stroke up and down, waves of pure pleasure embracing me. The luxurious familiarity of my own self-love has never dulled the intensity and relaxation I derive from pleasuring myself. No one else to worry about, only my own self-satisfaction as my total focus. I carefully grip my scrotum in my other hand, still stroking with my left, feeling my two full and heavy balls slip against each other in their delicate little pouch. As I cuddle them more firmly in my palm I feel the skin of my penis tighten slightly, sensitizing my shaft even more.
As I am lost in my own self-gratification I don’t hear the door opening as you arrive home, depositing your bags of shopping in the kitchen. Even as you enter the bedroom I am still intently self-focused when you step across the rug towards the bed. It is only when you speak that my reverie is interrupted and I look around and up at you standing beside my prone body.
“So you couldn’t wait for me to get home before you start the show, you say, a slight mocking tone in your voice.
” I needed this so badly” I start to explain, “I’m sorry but you have to let me come, I need to come, please…” my voice, husky with a combination of passion and embarrassment tails off as I realize I must come quickly. I resume my wanking, picking up the pace of my strokes.
“Not so fast” you retort in a commanding voice, like a teacher who has caught a dirty schoolboy tossing himself off below his desk in Latin class (conjugation and masturbation, repeat after me, Amo, Amas, Amat, Amo, Amasturbate, Amat.).
“You’re forgetting my needs aren’t you? With this you swiftly unbutton your soft summer dress and slipping it off your shoulders you let it slide to the floor. You stand before me in your finely embroidered, white lacy bra, matching garter belt and thin white silk French knickers. You seem tall and commanding from my inferior position below you, looking up at crotch level to the swelling undersides of your full breasts, the nipples sticking aggressively through the lacy cups. I can detect the small round impressions of your suspender buttons and the tracery of the elastic straps showing through the lace-edged, silky panties, the dark chocolate stocking tops showing below, separated from the lacy trimming by an inch of white thigh, resembling a tempting layer cake. A delicious dessert indeed! I notice a spreading damp patch staining the crotch and sticking the wrinkled fabric between your slightly parted thighs. As I contemplate the sight before me, your hands move down swiftly, peeling the silky knickers down your nylon-encased legs and quickly stepping out of them, your heels clicking in turn on the floor.
You get on the bed and kneel over me in a dominant position, knees either side of my hips and your butt on my thighs, holding them down as I lie on my back. The sharp bend in your knees tightens your white suspenders and pulls the tops of your dark-chocolate, seamed nylon stockings into inverted “vees”. Your nylon-covered thighs are very shiny from the tension your full muscles apply to the fine nylon. Very deliberately you slip your cunt lips over the base of my erect cock, bringing your anus to bear on top of my tight balls. I can feel the warm wetness of your moist labia enveloping my stiff shaft, your ample love-juice mingling with my pre-cum into a cocktail of pure lust. You are very aroused, maybe by the sight of my blatant masturbation, and you swiftly hunch down over my throbbing cock and tight balls, intent on your own immediate gratification. You slide your saturated, swollen lips back and forth along my veined shaft and over the rim of my shiny glans, pressing down and exposing your prominent clitoris. I shaved my pubic hairs a couple of days earlier and now, like bare wires sparking electricity, my stubble-coated scrotum is tickling your sensitive anus, sending shivers of sensual delight through you. Goose bumps are visible on your white, naked skin and you are trembling with intensely focused rapture, your eyes glazed and your lips slightly parted in intense concentration, a woman possessed. You are almost unaware of my sentient being; my penis is simply the key to your own private paradise, your sex-tool. In less than a minute (but who can measure time) you speed up, forcing your vulva down and bending forwards in the spasms of an all-consuming orgasm, your breath coming in tortured sobs, gasping as the waves of uncontrollable ecstasy consume you.
I have been observing your self-centered, sexual gratification with longing, my hands caressing and gripping the silky sheer stocking-tops, slipping up to your soft thighs and feeling your muscles tense as you work me. As your labored breathing slows and quietens, your hazel eyes refocus on me lying pinioned below you, your powerful thighs still gripping me in the lock of lust. A slight smile crosses your face, your look almost smacking of sympathy.
“So you couldn’t wait for me then?” you ask mischievously, baiting me.
” Please wank me Kim, please masturbate me and make me come, I can’t stand this any longer. You’ve had your way now please give me some relief,” I plead.
You then reach down and firmly grip my wet shaft, lifting it up and still pressing your lips down over my pubis. You slide your thumb around my red, glistening end, smearing our combined juices around and then along my expectant member.
Slowly you masturbate me, your eyes fixed on mine, unblinking, like a deadly snake mesmerizing its entranced prey, timing its lethal strike. Looking up at you I see an oddly fascinating hermaphrodite image, the position of your thighs, your hunched back, your intent expression all convey the gender-bending image that you are actually wanking your own cock, not mine. You are milking a cock that is no longer mine to control; you possess and control me in the most fundamental way. Your pendulous, full breasts, still in their inadequate brassiere, nipples thrusting though the lace edging, your tight suspender belt and taut nylon stockings give you the sexually ambiguous look of a “he-she” prostitute, a “chick-with-a-dick” as they are described in the advertisements in pornographic contact magazines. I find your image fascinating, I am the willing victim, oh snake strike me in the artery, I am helpless in your gaze.
“Wank, wank, wank Kim! Come all over my belly, shoot your load all over my body, shoot cum all over me,” I burble, almost incoherent with ecstasy.