1 comments/ 53364 views/ 0 favorites Prepped By: sr71plt Not for the first time I didn't like the gleam in Leon's eye or the lilt in his voice when he told me I had an assignment. He was much too pleased with himself when he handed me the envelope containing the address and the gate key. We'd been getting along better than usual lately—or had been up to the time he seemed to think that meant I was warming to him and he propositioned me again and I turned him down flat again. But if there was a little twist to this assignation, at least it would be short-lived. The address was right here in the city. The Gordan Institute up in the Hollywood Hills. I knew this to be a tony private plastic surgery hospital for those who wanted to be recarved without losing sight of their swimming pools and movie star mansions. Not because I'd done anything like that myself, of course. I was still at my peak, thank you, very much, and wouldn't need any of that sort of help for a good ten years more. Depending, though, I guessed, on what I did between now and then to earn my pay. And when I did need plastic surgery, there was no way I was going to be able to afford the Gordan Institute. I just hoped that Leon hadn't agreed to let me get sliced up. "So, what costume?" I asked. "Oh, just go as you are," Leon answered. And then he laughed. "Chances are you won't be wearing it long anyway." I took the envelope from Leon's claws and gave him a wan "you don't intimidate me—much" smile and headed my Beamer convertible up slope. It was late afternoon on a Sunday and it was "another damn beautiful" day enhanced by the relative lack of bumper-to-bumper traffic. I halfway knew where the Gordan Institute was, and I found it without too much trouble, hulking behind a high stuccoed privacy wall next door to what had once been Bela Lugosi's haunted manse. Leon had given me a plastic key card like they use for hotel room entry, and it opened up the iron gates at the institute a charm. No one was about as I drove in and parked next to a silver Mercedes convertible in an otherwise empty, bricked-over parking pad. By the time I got to the front entrance, hidden in the shadows behind a porte cochere, no doubt designed for privacy in arrival and departure of the well-heeled patients, the entry door was opening and I could see there was at least one other person than me here on a Sunday. The absence of other cars disturbed me a bit. This was a residential facility; was there some sort of law against rich people getting tummy tucks on weekends in May? I wondered. "You were sent by the agency?" a well-modulated baritone voice asked from the depths beyond the opening door. "Umm, yes. Alphonse?" "Come in. Yes, yes, you'll do nicely." I knew that. He didn't have to tell me that. They charged three thou an hour for my attentions. And for that I did quite a bit more than "nicely." The door swung open, and I was facing "Alphonse." He wasn't really Alphonse. I knew that, and I'm sure he knew I knew that. His mug, no matter how many times it had been redone, was well known in town. He was Grant Gordan, the celebrated magic surgeon of beauty. This was his institute. He was playing doctor. Starched, stark-white three-quarter-length doctor's smock over soft-cotton, institutional green scrubs that somehow still gave the impression they had been tailored and cost a bundle. Crinkling transparent plastic booties on what looked like gray bedroom slippers. He was tricked out to be playing the senior physician in a long-running television medical drama. Gray-haired, in his fifties, but handsome, and chiseled to an epitome of perfection that only a millionaire's billfold or an "in the business" discount could provide. A very nice bedside smile that, alone, would have cost me a fortune. "Oh, excuse me," I stammered. "Did I get the day or time wrong? Have I interrupted a procedure?" "No, no, of course not. You're right on time. No procedures today. We're undergoing renovations this week, so no procedures at all. No patients in residence." "Oh, but—" "Oh, these. I was just trying on a new shipment of surgical wear. Dr. Gordan just had these sent in." Hokay, I thought. It's your ten thou, "Alphonse," I thought. I had peeked at Leon's chart—as I always tried to do so I knew when I should be going off the clock. This guy had bought four hours and gotten a discount of two thousand for booking that block of time. This almost always meant at least a double, but I was just as happy if they thought of that in advance and padded the time. Often trying to hammer a recharge and second fucking into an hour—or even two hours—became quite frustrating for the client and often played out in their attitude as something unpleasant. "Follow me, please." And with that, "Alphonse" turned and walked briskly down a corridor leading off to the right of the plush reception room that, with its yawning stone fireplace, vaulted ceiling, and big expanse of glass overlooking a sea of green grass, majestic pines, and parts of of the city looked more like the living room in a mountain lodge than a hospital waiting room. I followed in the wake of the crinkling noise his surgical booties were making with the thought that, if I had known we were going to play doctor, I would have seen if Leon had a nurse's uniform in his wardrobe room. I was ushered into a large, wood-paneled room with book-lined walls except for one well-lit panel that sported what I'm sure was meant to be an intimidating number of framed university diplomas, medical licenses, honorary plaques, and photos of "Alphonse" shaking hands with various extremely well-preserved movie stars and industry titans of old—or at least of older than they had been made to appear. The mahogany desk was massive, the throne behind it that "Alphonse" perched in momentarily was massive, and the sort of wheel chair contraption he waved my butt into was nothing short of strange. It was a comfortable chair and all that, but did he put his prospective clients into wheel chairs this early in the sales pitch? I didn't have time to let this thought percolate, however. "I trust you've been told the scenario and the service." "Ummm. No, actually," I said. "Oh, well, then," Alphonse said. "I do have a contract, you know. And the money's been paid." "Good, fine," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was busy racking Leon over in my brain. I knew there was a reason for that evil little smile. Holding the particulars back from me again. Such a poor loser. By then, Alphonse had bounded back out of his—or, rather, Dr. Gordan's—throne and was moving around the room. "Strip down, please. I want to see if my directions were followed." I stood up from the wheel chair and started to take off my clothes, in the slow, provocative way I'd been taught to do, wondering all the time whether I was supposed to wear something I hadn't been told about. As I did so, Alphonse came around to the edge of the desk facing me and perched there, closely scrutinizing my every movement. I imaged that I was a client asking for a little more here and a little less there, and I wondered if he also was thinking about how I could be recarved to best advantage. But his eyes were slitted, and he was humming softly to himself. From long experience, I recognized this as a sign of satisfaction with the goods. "Ah, yes," he said when I was stripped down, giving out a sigh and letting his hand run across his crotch. "Nice body hair. And a natural blond, I see." Well, no, but he didn't need to know all that was entailed in that. "Sit, please." I did so, and Alphonse was back on the move. He was behind me, and I heard the noise of something being dragged toward me. I looked around in time to see some sort of steel contraption on wheels, supporting a large cylinder rolling up to my chair. But that's all the time I had to see anything, as the doctor was right behind me then, throwing his arms around my chest, holding me down into the wheel chair with one arm and clamping a mask over my mouth and nose with the other. I struggled briefly, but not for long. The gas was fast and effective. When I came to, I was strapped down on my back on a white-paper-covered vinyl operating table. My wrists were bound close behind my head, which pulled my arms up and close beside my head on either side. My ankles were bound too, but to flexible appendages that extended beyond the end of the table, which only reached to the small of my back. It was apparent that these appendages could be manipulated apart and up and even folded to bend my legs. I awoke to a whimper. It was mine. "Ah, good, awake. Be aware that I contracted for the specific service." I focused on the voice. Alphonse—Grant Gordan—all smiles and standing over me with an aerosol can in one hand and in the other—a straight razor. "Oh, God, no," I muttered. "Please—" "You must hold very still, or this will undoubtedly hurt you more than it does me," Gordan murmured. And then he smiled. I knew the look in those eyes. He was aroused. He started squirting foam onto my torso and into my pits. It was cold, and I squirmed a bit. I said nothing; I was still assessing the situation and how and whether to get out of it. Just how crazy was he? Was this just the first stage of something? He lifted the razor and I stopped squirming. I wasn't that stupid. He had music going on in the background. Just what I was used to hearing when I went into a dentist's office. And he was humming as he worked. The razor moved from my right pit to my left pit. This was followed by Gordan's tongue, as he lapped up the residual lather there, which must have been something other than soap, because he was having a good slurping time of it. "You know," he said as he finished there and was carefully shaving around my nipples and along my hairline down to my navel, "For years I watched my patients being prepped by the nurses before surgery, and I never realized why I got a hard-on before surgery. For the longest time, I thought it was the surgery itself that was a turn on for me. And I was ever so grateful that I had gone into a profession that could give me so much pleasure in addition to paying me so well. But then I slowly caught on. I was aroused by the prep. The shaving and the cleaning off of the lather." "I can show you a really good time without this, you know," I stuttered out. "I can give you a fuck like you've never had before." It was grabbing at straws. But I was worried about where this might lead. Whether he had even darker fetishes. I usually liked to be very sure of a client before I was tied up. "Yes, yes, I'm sure—and perhaps you shall," Gordan said in a faraway voice, which told me that he was locked into his fetish. "You know, though, that after I knew what it was that I wanted, I had a dilemma. I couldn't really take the risk of pursuing this on a real patient. Besides the fact that the operating room is full of people in this stage, there where phenomenal risks with the patient's lawyers. So, you know—" He had broken off because his mouth was full of foam and nipple now. He had shaved my chest, down to my navel and was cleaning up the lather with his tongue. He was really good at it, and I wondered how much practice he had had with this. How many before me? If other guys in my profession had gone missing, I think I would have known. The agency would have known. But, what if I were the first? I was so deep in worry and thought that I didn't know how long it had been since he'd stopped tonguing me down. When I looked around, I saw that he already had his scrubs off and was putting his white lab coat back on over his naked body. For his mid fifties, he really looked good. But, at the same time, too good. Plastic. I bet he'd had every inch of his body done and redone. And I wondered if they really could enhance a penis like that with plastic surgery. His body was hairless, so at least he carried this fetish of his through to himself. He opened a condom package and crowned his pride and joy. Time for something I was more familiar with. Gordan moved to below me, and I felt the lower appendages of the operating table, the arms to which my legs were strapped, being widened and bent so that I was in what I imaged to be the "birthing" position. Gordan was standing between my legs, and I saw the gleam of the metal aerosol can caught in the glare of the overhead operating lights. Cold, wet. My pubes were being lathered up. And then my asshole too. I tensed up as I felt one of his fingers breaching my rim and pushing into at least the knuckle, taking lather with it. I did my best to relax as I looked down and saw the razor hovering over my pubes. I panted shallowly and tried to be professional and not whimper or beg as I felt the razor scraping across my groin. Gordan was fisting my cock with his other hand, holding it out of the way and stroking it up and down. I was involuntarily engorging. Which was fine. He'd paid for the service, and I would give the service. If I was going to beef, it would be to whoever I could find in the agency above Leon. It would be no good to let Leon know I thought I had a beef about this assignment; he'd delight in listening to me whine. If I ever got home from this assignment, of course. I watched Gordan's head come down to my groin and lick at the lather and then up the side of my cock, and he swallowed me and constricted his cheeks around my tool. I groaned and strung a series of appreciative-sounding yeses for him and started a shallow rhythm in my hips to let him know that he was a superior suck. After a bit of this, he lifted off my cock but still held it in a fist as he lathered up my inner thighs and began to scrape and tongue again. Then the razor wasn't scraping. The finger wasn't in my hole. I almost lifted up off the table as Gordan thrust his cock inside me, running thickly and deeply at the first thrust, his entry smoothened by the lather he'd shot up into me. The shave was finished. He was fucking me in deep thrusts, fully aroused by his fetish, ready to finish off the surgical fantasy. I knew this part. I cried out for him, telling him how good he was and how I wanted it never to stop, and Gordan rode with it. Thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. Making animal noises, while I moaned and groaned and told him he was killing me but not to stop. He was as good with his cock as he had been with his razor. And I was enjoying this part—but doing all I could to make him enjoy it too. Enjoy it far more than the shaving part and certainly far more than any part he might be planning to proceed to after this. I wanted him to want me to be giving him the best of times and wanting me back some other time. Not carrying on with any possible terminal plans in this session. With an exclamation, Gordan pulled out of me, jerked off the condom and shot up over my balls onto my now-smooth groin. I sighed deeply and collapsed back onto the paper sheeting, only then realizing that I had arched my back and had brought my buttocks off the surface of the table to meet him thrust for thrust in his wild, exuberant fucking. I did everything I could do act like what we had done was totally exhausting, if totally wonderful—for both of us—and that we had done what we were going to do. But then I looked up at the clock on the wall and realized that he had nearly two hours left on his contract. I groaned, and this time it didn't have anything to do with sex. I refocused on Gordan. He was opening another condom packet. This time he rolled the condom onto my cock, which, conveniently, was standing at full attention and was hard as a rock. He let loose another cloud of lather on my capped tool. Then, moving real well for his age, Gordan came up onto the operating table and knelt, straddling my hips, facing me. He held my cock rigid while he slowly encased my cock with his channel and began to slowly ride me. This was another maneuver I was adept at, so I lifted my hips off the surface of the operating table and gave him a good time and appropriate sounds of pleasure and, in the end, a good feel of the bulb of a condom billowing forth to capacity well up his canal. I wondered if the clock had stopped. He still had more than an hour when we were done with that. He went back to the razor and the lather, and my legs and arms were completely denuded and exposed to the breezes. We had come to what I thought of as the danger point, but Gordan's fetish turned out to have its limit. He released me from the table and started talking about how good I was and how he was pleased with the service. This was when the customer service I was known for and that brought me return requests kicked in. Comfortable now that nothing threatening was going to happen, I turned to him and took his cheeks in my hands and gave him a big sloppy kiss on the lips. Our eyes were inches away from each other, and I watched him turn from surprise to pleased to renewed arousal. "God, you're a superb cocksman," I whispered when we disengaged. "You have time left on the clock. Could you fuck me again, please?" Flattered and delighted and immediately up to the challenge, he told me how much he'd like to do that in a flustered voice, and I turned and bent over onto the operating table on my now-hairless belly. I felt the cool, wet lather at my asshole again, and then he was fucking me, slowly at first, and then in a frenzy, as I writhed under him and screamed out at the thick, deep taking. He covered my back with his torso and I turned my head and we kissed. He was trembling almost uncontrollably as he came again deep inside me. I was whistling as I folded the extra thou into my billfold and settled into the BMW for the drive back down out of the Hollywood Hills. Leon wouldn't hear a whisper of complaint or description from me about this assignment. I knew that would drive him crazy. Prepping for Date Night Kyle is a really nice kid who's been dating our daughter Heather for most of their time together in high school. He's a good looking guy with shaggy blonde hair who looks like a surfer. He and Heather go out pretty much every Friday night and we've come to think of him as a member of the family. Both kids will be headed off to different colleges at the end of the summer so their future together is uncertain. And I'm probably just as sad about it as Heather, considering the "interesting" relationship we've found ourselves in. It all started about a month ago. Heather had been late in getting home from work and was scrambling to get ready for their Friday night date. She yelled down the stairs for me to call and let him know she'd be a little late. "Hi Sue, Heather asked me tell Kyle she's not going to be ready for about another half hour, can you please let him know?" "Actually, that's just as well Joan. I don't think he's done masturbating yet, so I'll give him the message." Did she really just say what I thought? "Excuse me?" "Oh my god, I can't believe I let that slip out. Please, please, please don't tell Kyle I told you that! He'd kill me!" "Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with that. I'm just surprised he's so open about it." "Oh he isn't usually, but in this case he's doing it because I asked him to." "You asked him to? What in the world for?" "Joan, you'll probably think this is crazy, but after Kyle and Heather started seeing so much of each other, Jim told me a part of him felt sorry for Kyle because of all the sexual energy he would need to deal with. He said lots of times when he was at the heavy petting stage he'd get so worked up on a date that all he could think about was getting home so he could relieve himself." I got to thinking about it and asked him if it would have made things easier if he'd done the 'reliving' part first. He said he wasn't sure, but that at the very least it would have made him better company because he'd be more likely to engage in conversation than obsess about the physical stuff." "Are you sure you won't tell any of this to Kyle, Joan?" "Go on." "So I said to Jim, what do you think about trying it with Kyle? He obviously masturbates. What red blooded eighteen year old boy doesn't? Jim said it was OK with him, but that he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to lay down the law with Kyle." "So you're really not making this up?" "No. I figured I'm the mom and moms always have to do the hard stuff. So one day after school, I went to his room and told him the plan. He turned beet red and tried to deny that he 'did that'. I told him that was hard for me to believe, but that it didn't really matter because he was going to have to start if he expected to have any kind of social life. It seemed like a big deal at the time, but now it's become so automatic that I don't even think about it. I guess that's why it slipped out just now. We call it 'prepping for date night'." "That's the most bizarre thing I've ever heard. But how do you know he actually does it?" "That's simple. He saves the evidence on some tissues and I make him show it to me before he leaves the house." "You're kidding!" "Nope. Simple, but effective." "Does it help him?" "I don't know for sure, but he seems happy enough. And if we're right, he's more of a gentleman with Heather. Something you might be able to appreciate." "I'll have to think about that one, but it does make me wonder what Heather's doing when she gets home." I was a little embarrassed with myself because I realized the conversation had turned me on. The feeling didn't get any better when Kyle showed up a little while later. I put on my best poker face, but the fact that I knew this sexy young boy had masturbated less than 30 minutes ago, and that he had no clue that I knew about it was hugely arousing. The knowledge was so intense I wondered if he could read my mind; but of course that was impossible. After he and Heather left, I couldn't think of anything else. My husband Bob was on a business trip and not due back until later that evening. Even though I knew we'd fool around when he got home, I was desperate for some immediate relief. I poured a glass of wine, drew a hot bath, and settled in for a nice relaxing session of self-love. My soapy hands moved over my small breasts as I imagined Kyle watching me and getting turned on. I pretended it was his hands caressing my nipples and making them hard. I took my time – relishing in the sexual tension building in my body. I poured another glass of wine and shifted the object of my attention. I thought about Kyle getting excited as he watched me explore my inner folds. I separated by lips and pretended to show him my clit. I thought about watching him while he masturbated such a short time ago. I thought about him getting naked, playing with himself and ejaculating into a handful of tissues before showing them to his mother. I replayed this scene over and over as my orgasm approached. I was oblivious to the world, completely lost in my forbidden thoughts when I realized with a start that I could actually make this happen! I had the leverage to make Kyle do almost anything. The thought of actually watching him do it sent me into a thunderous climax. As soon as a measure of my composure returned, I began working out the details of my plan. Bob and I had amazing sex that night. He had no idea what had turned me into such an animal, but he certainly wasn't complaining. My lucky break came the very next date night. I knew Sue and her husband were going to be out of town for the weekend. It took a bit of deception, but it wasn't hard for me to maneuver Kyle into arriving an hour before Heather would be home. I'd been thinking about this caper all week, and I was as nervous as a school girl when he arrived; right on schedule. I explained that Heather wouldn't be home for a while and offered him a Coke. We chit-chatted for a few minutes before I dropped the bombshell. "So Kyle, since you're not being supervised this weekend, I wondered if you still prepped for your date." He turned beet red. "I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered. "Oh, I think you do Kyle. Your mom let me in on the secret. She didn't mean to, but apparently it's become such a regular part of your routine that it just slipped out when I called last week. She asked me not to tell you, but obviously I've decided not to honor that request. So I repeat my question, did you prep?" "I really don't think that's any of your business, mam." "I'm sorry Kyle, but I disagree. I'm Heather's mom, and I have a right to protect her. Besides, can you believe how much damage would be done to your mom's reputation if your little deal just happened to appear on someone's Facebook page? I'll bet it would make your life a little more interesting too." "You wouldn't dare!" "Are you really willing to take that chance? Now why don't you answer my question?" "OK, you win. Yes, I did. Now are you satisfied?" "Actually, I don't think I am Kyle. How do I know you're telling the truth?" "Why would I possibly lie about something like that?" "Could it be that you see it as a new opportunity with Heather?" "That's simply not true! You have no right to think that!" "Perhaps; but there's an easy way to remedy the situation." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Isn't it obvious? All you need to do is prep right now." "Oh no mam, I just couldn't! I'd be too embarrassed. Besides, I don't know if I could do it again so soon." "Kyle, don't you think it would be more embarrassing if the whole world knew what's been going on?" He shot me a look of resignation. "OK, you win. I'll just go to the bathroom see if I can." "I'm afraid that doesn't work for me Kyle. How do I know you'll really try? You're a clever boy. All you'd have to do is wait awhile, come back and say you couldn't produce. I'd like to trust you Kyle, but there's a limit to how far I can go. I'm afraid the only way for me to be sure is to watch you do it." I smiled at him sweetly. He knew he was toast, and so did I. "We better get started, Kyle. Heather will be home before too long. I think her bedroom would be an appropriate place, don't you?" When we got there, I pulled back her covers, plumped up the pillows and said, "Now why don't you just slip out of those clothes and try to relax. You can start with your shoes." He gave me a look that said he could not believe what was happening and reluctantly took off his shoes. "You can keep your socks on if you want – just in case Heather comes home early." I knew that was not a possibility, but couldn't resist the chance to insert a little urgency into the situation. Next his tee-shirt and shorts came off, but he balked when it came to the finale. Apparently he needed a little more encouragement. "Oh come on Kyle, don't be such a baby. Are you really that afraid to show me your penis? Or maybe you're ashamed to show it to me." My affront to his courage and manly ego did the trick. He inched down his underpants and stood before me awaiting further instructions. He was perfect! Not too small and not too big. He was circumcised and his scrotum hung down loosely with one testicle a little lower than the other. He was not at all intimidating, and had the perfect equipment for an eighteen year old girl's introduction to the male anatomy. I worked hard not to show my arousal, but I could feel myself getting wet. "That's good, Kyle. Now let's start with a few questions. I'm curious. Does your mom's strategy work for you? I've asked Heather if there's any reason why she should be on the pill, and she says 'no' so I know you're not having outright sex. But you wouldn't be normal teenagers if you weren't fooling around? Am I right?" "I suppose so mam." "Why don't you tell me what she lets you do? Surely she lets you touch her breasts." He nodded. "Does she let you take off her bra?" "Uh huh." "How about her vagina? Does she let you touch her there too?" "I guess so." "Outside of her panties or inside?" "At first just outside; but now she lets me do both." "I see. Does she let you put your fingers inside?" "Yes, mam." "And do you rub her clitoris?" "I do when she wants me to." "Does she like it when you do that?" "She didn't at first because I didn't know how to do it right; but then she showed me how, and now she likes it a lot." "That's interesting. Tell me more." "At first, I thought you had to rub right on it, really fast. But she said it was way too sensitive for that, and that it would feel much better if I squeezed it gently from both sides while moving my fingers up and down. It was hard to do at first, but now I know exactly what pleases her the most. Sometimes she asks me to put the fingers from my other hand inside and move them in and out while I do it." "And does that give her an orgasm?" "Yes mam, she says it makes her feel excited and basic, like a woman." "From the looks of your penis, I'd say it makes you feel that way too." He was so absorbed in telling me his story that he forgot about his nakedness, and didn't realize that he had become hard. "It's OK, Kyle. It's normal for boys your age to get an erection just by thinking about girls. I'm glad you're excited. We wouldn't get very far if you weren't, would we? I have one more question before. Does Heather return the favor after you give her an orgasm?" "No mam, not yet." "Do you want her to?" "More than anything mam." "That must be very frustrating for you. Do you think the fact that you've prepped for your date helps you to cope?" "I guess so, but I still usually have to do it again when I get home." He was really opening up to me. "After so much excitement, I can see how you'd need to do that. I'm afraid we're running out of time Kyle. Now I want you to lean back and get started. Here are some tissues for you to squirt into, just like you do at home. Does it turn you on to be in Heather's bed? Can you smell her perfume? I'll bet she's masturbated right where you are hundreds of times – maybe even this morning before she went to work. Does that thought excite you? I'll bet her wetness has soaked into those very sheets. When you think about Heather do you think about the smell of her vagina? Do you use that smell on your fingers to help you play with yourself after a date? Would you like me to find some of Heather's soiled panties in her hamper to help you remember that smell?" "No mam, that's OK." As I suspected, this little speech was all the incentive he needed. He couldn't wait to get started. "OK Kyle. Now just forget I'm watching and do what you normally do when you're alone." I was impressed by his approach. Rather than going directly for pay dirt, he started by gently caressing his face, chest and nipples with his fingertips. Next, he spent some time on his inner thighs – savoring the anticipation. Apparently he had forgotten all about the sense of urgency I had tried to create. "That's very good, Kyle. Just relax and take your time." Gradually, his fingers worked their way to his scrotum and he began to caress it very gently. I doubt if his penis had ever been harder. "That looks like it really feels nice. You're being a very good boy." Finally, he could no longer resist direct stimulation. His technique was one I had not seen before. He encircled his erection with the fingers of one hand and slid them down his length. The other hand followed just as the first completed its journey. I could tell he was using all of his fingers to stimulate the underside of his glans as they slid by. That's Bob's most sensitive place too. "That's a very unusual technique, Kyle. Have you always masturbated that way?" He managed to tell me he did it that way the first time and he still likes it the best, but he has a one-handed method that he uses sometimes too. "Tell me what you're thinking about Kyle." "I'm thinking about Heather and how exciting it is to put my fingers inside her pussy; and the way it squeezes around them when she cums. I'm pretending she's doing what I'm doing to myself right now; and about how proud I would be to shoot for her over and over again so she would know how much I love her and that I'm a real man." "You're doing a very good job of expressing your feelings Kyle. Why don't you pretend I'm Heather? She wants you masturbate for her. She loves that you're not ashamed to do it while she watches. She wants to see you cum for her. Show her what a man you are! Do it now!" I knew he was getting close because a big drop of precum had emerged from his opening and his breathing was getting more and more rapid. He abandoned his two-handed method and began frantically rubbing his most sensitive place with his right hand. His testicles retracted and he was moments away. A few seconds later, I could see him pass the point of no return. He leapt up, grabbed the tissues and began to ejaculate into them. I lost count after five or six spurts. I was mesmerized. Finally, the eruptions subsided, and he used his hand to milk out the last few drops. He was bathed in sweat. And so was I. The tissues were soaked; and he obviously didn't know what to do with them. "That was very impressive Kyle. Here, give me your mess and I'll flush it down the toilet so no one will find it." He sheepishly handed me the semen-soaked tissues. It was clear that this was no repeat performance. "So Kyle, are you sticking with your story about having prepped for your date tonight?" "I guess not." "I thought not. Don't you ever lie to me again. I'll forgive you this one time, but in the future you need to do exactly what I say. If you do, we'll get along fine, and you won't have to worry about people finding out about the deal with you mom. And of course, you'll never have to worry about my telling Heather. Now you better get dressed. She'll be home soon. Aren't you glad you we had this little session? I don't see how you could have gotten through the night otherwise." After he had gone, I examined the semen-soaked tissues. He had produced so much that it had not all soaked in, and there was enough for me to savor the feel of the slippery goo between my fingers. The smell was a profoundly compelling; probably not unlike what Kyle feels when he savors Heather's essence on his fingers. It was time for anther bathtub session before Bob got home. I desperately needed the release – and to figure out what I would make Kyle do the next time. Prepping for My New Life Here I was, jilted by the girl I had devoted the last 10 years to and wondering what I did wrong and how I would trust a woman ever again. All during that time my partner had a fixation with my ass and I was slowly but surely questioning my leanings. It all started with her eating out my rear and progressing to the point that I couldn't cum unless she was ramming her hand up my ass and jerking me off or blowing me at the same time. And I must admit, I was having the greatest orgasms ever with her technique and wondering what it would be like doing it with a real man! Although I love to give a girl head, I couldn't get out of my mind the thought of pleasuring a man by sucking him off till he blew a tremendous load down my throat, hopefully while getting pounded on the other end. So, whenever I was eating her, I would close my eyes, suck down her rather large camel toe and fantasize that I was gobbling up a large dick. Was I turning gay? I didn't know, but half of me wanted to find out . I really wanted a huge cock to gag me and glaze my face and let me taste some precious cum that wasn't my own. Meanwhile, I ordered some toys online and started to prepare for my evolution into a cum slut. I first got a vibrating butt plug, but found it to be too small so ordered the largest one the store had. I'd wake up early morning, wash out my ass, lube up and go back to bed with my toy sending me off to delirious heights. After an hour of so of pleasure, I would use a hand held vibe on my cock and explode all over my stomach and slurp up all the sweet nectar. Well, this was so great but I wanted to feel even more! I found the baby I wanted with a 10" vibrating cock that at first looked like a horse schlong, but at the same time had me drooling in anticipation. I couldn't even get any more that the head down my throat, it was so massive, but I knew I wanted it deep inside me. Well, I picked up the monster at the post office, and was so excited when I saw it, that I called in sick for work and rushed home. I was sick, and really needed to know that feeling right away. So, back to my bed I rushed, greased up my ass with an extra portion of love gel , added lots to my new friend, and slowly rammed it up my waiting love canal. After a little discomfort, I really started getting into the swing and was riding it like a trooper! With a little more effort, I had it all the way in and toy's balls were pounding against mine. Was this what heaven was all about? I couldn't stop, it was so great. Besides the great job it was doing on my prostate, the fullness and feeling of being impaled drove me to new heights. Now it was time to turn on the juice, so I turned on the battery pack and my dick went straight and shot out a load like none I ever knew I had! God, I was screaming to myself, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck my ass!!!". The force of my ejaculation was so strong that it hit my chin, whereas I proceeded to gobble up all the cum, savoring it like a fine Medoc. So, here I am, with the greatest toy ever imaginable and spending day after day pleasuring myself. However. I really wanted something in my other end at the same time. Still not brave enough to find a willing partner, I ordered an ejaculating dildo and after a few trials, concocted a solution of egg white, salt and a dash of plain yogurt that came closest to tasting like my own seed. This baby wasn't as thick around as my vibrating prince so I could slide it in and out of my throat with relative ease and practice my technique for when I give my first blow job. Now I could take my games to new heights by raping myself at both ends at the same time. As I've said, my one dream has for a long time now been to have a cock in both holes pounding me into oblivion , cumming from my ass and cock at the same time, while a huge dick explodes down my throat . So, till the real thing comes along, here I am, greasing up my best friend, putting in new batteries and filling a glass of my fake-cum solution. I start with the butt plug that has a very tense vibrating level, load up my dildo and proceed to suck, lap and savor all the juice that is being released like pre-cum. I am in heaven, yet there is still a higher cloud level to attain. When I squeeze the balls, splurts of my egg solution squirt down my throat and the feeling of making a cock explode drive me mad. I replace the butt plug with Mr. 10 incher and turn on the juice. Bucking away like a common whore,I am totally out of control . With the cock deep down my throat, I am doing my best to scream "deeper, deeper,fuck me harder" but I am gagging to much for the words to form. Meanwhile , deep inside me, there is a fire building that can not be described. I don't want it to stop, but I know it is going to go critical mass any time now. Refilling my dildo, I bounce on my cockmate, it's balls bouncing against mine as my cock explodes and the one in my mouth pulsates streams of great tasting home made love juice! Now exhausted, but wanting more I decide this has to be done with real partners. But where am I going to find willing mates with huge dicks that can replicate this. Living in Japan as I now do, it will be hard enough finding one big cock, much less two, But it's time to start searching. Meanwhile, I have my toy lovers to keep me in practice for when I finally turn that corner. Chances are, it will be in the very near future.