She Said Yes - a Covid-19 Story

(All characters are over 18 years old. They have no memory of anything that may or may not have happened before their eighteenth birthday.)

The bedside clock said it was 5:30 in the morning. I got up and went to the bath. While I sat there on the pot, I realized something: The "Oh Fuck" was not about me.

The third part of the video we made yesterday was not about me. I knew that. None of the video was about me, even when I was kicked in the nuts, it was not about me. But what I realized was that while I was putting my all to spanking Julie, she was giving her all to Amanda. The "Oh Fuck" was Amanda's response to Julie giving head! Julie's struggles were not about what I was doing to her butt, but what she was doing with Amanda's clit.

I went back to bed to ponder this discovery a bit. Amanda's commands were not directed at me, but rather Julie. Two women, two beautiful, powerful women, two amazingly sexy women, having sex in my presence. I actually participated in their encounter. I was a part of it, even if an invisible part.

OK. Now, prick in hand, I was going to have to relive this event in my mind. I kicked off the sheet and stretched out, knees apart, ankles caught in shorts and underwear, cock erect, both hands ready. This situation called for a full two-handed jerk off. I began by teasing the tip in a circular motion with the palm of my hand, while using the other to begin the up and down stroke. Through long practice I have perfected this style - mushroom capping. It is not easy, like rubbing your belly and patting your head, two different but simultaneous motions. It takes practice. And I have practiced. I'm really good at it.

I remember feeling Amanda's knee against my thigh. I remember it shaking. I though it was because of Julie. I thought it was because of the spanking I was giving. But no, it was because of the tongue Julie was giving. The "Oh Fuck" marked Amanda's orgasm. I shifted to gently shaking my balls between two fingers of one hand and stroking with the other.

In my mind's eye, I pictured Amanda arching her back, muscles tense, legs shaking, yelling "Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!" I abandoned all pretense. Pressing with my legs and arching my back, I lifted my butt off the bed. Cock high, balls squeezed in one hand, I stroked furiously.

It didn't take long. The mental image of Amanda in the throws of orgasm, my expert masturbation technique and the physical memory of Julie over my lap brought on a truly satisfying catharsis. All tension relieved, I lay still in the afterglow, my hand sticky with ejaculate.

There was a knock on the door and Amanda's voice, "I have a question for you. I need a favor. May I come in?"

"Just a minute. I'll be right there."

I jumped up, trying to pull my shorts up with my clean hand. I didn't want to risk Amanda opening the door and seeing me the way I was. My underwear would not untangle from my shorts with only one hand. Normally I would have waddled over to the sink to rinse before pulling them up, but I didn't have time. Thinking quickly, I licked the drool of cum off my hand and pulled up my pants.

I went to the door. "I was just about to strip the bed to do the sheets."

"That's sort of what I wanted to ask. Apparently, I double booked myself. Julie is coming over to video a bondage session and I booked a Skype call right in the middle of it."

Amanda was dressed in a white cotton tee that was a bit tight. Her nipples stood out. Had I not just masturbated, my prick would have stood out too. Good thing I prepared. Again, masturbation allowed me to focus on what she was asking.

"I cannot leave Julie bound without someone watching over her. Plus, I need to make a video of her struggles. Would you have the time this morning to record Julie being tied up and struggling to free herself?"

"Ah, let me check my calendar. You're in luck! I have an opening this very morning."

Amanda laughed. "Well, that's so good to hear. The other problem is we need to separate the two activities, Skype and video recording. Could we use your room for the video?"

"Um, OK. I don't really see a problem."

"We can remove any personally identifying stuff. And I would like to have just a clean white sheet on the bed. I will put her in a hogtie on the bed and leave for the Skype call. You will video her struggles and be her life guard. I'll return in about a half hour and tease her a bit before untying her."

"Sure. I can film the whole thing and watch out for Julie while you are gone."

As if there would be any question of my willingness to participate. I put a clean fitted sheet on my bed. A naked Julie spent an hour on it being tied up and then struggling to escape. I recorded the action with Amanda's new Nikon set up on a tripod.

I didn't have much in the room that would identify me, but who would be looking at the background anyway. We set it up to use the available light from the window. I did most of the video from the corner of the room, zooming in when it seemed appropriate.

Julie, for her part looked suitably nervous as we began, embarrassed to be stripped and patient while the ropes were looped and twisted. Her wrists were bound near her ankles, her knees bound together, her elbows drawn toward each other, her hair twisted and tied by rope to her feet. Head up, her back was stretched backward into an arc. Amanda left her with a ball gag in her mouth looking up at the camera.

For half an hour Julie struggled. She rolled from side to side, turning, trying to loosen her bindings. Every few minutes she would look up at me, or at the camera, with a pleading look in her eyes. There is no possible way I could be flexible enough to be in the hog tie for three minutes, let alone a half hour.

I thought she might actually need help, but she didn't give our agreed signal. I waited and I filmed and I watched her breasts heaving. Amanda returned right on time. She must have ended her Skype call as planned. Later she said it was a humiliation scene, incompatible with having Julie in the background.

Amanda began "playing" with her bound victim. Nipple clamps went on first. I could tell from Julie's reaction, these were mean. Then Amanda rolled Julie over enough to press a vibrator between her legs. The effect seemed instantaneous. I have no idea whether Julie was acting or not, but she convinced me. The vibrator melted her resistance.

Amanda went back to working the nipple clamps, massaging Julie's breasts. Then she tormented Julie with vicious tickling - under her arms and along her sides. It looked like sensory overload. The tickling set off new struggles; one of the nipple clamps rubbed off on the bed. Julie was completely exhausted. I could see the sweat on her chest.

I filmed the untying and the hug between Julie and Amanda on my bed. Then it was over. But it will never be over for me. A naked Julie, bound and struggling on my bed, a scene forever imprinted in memory.

I handed the camera and tripod to Amanda. Julie got up and collected clothes, ropes, gag, nipple clamps and vibrator. She didn't bother to get dressed. I said I would take care of the sheets, and like that they were gone.

I thought I might not change the sheet. Where Julie had been, the bed felt cool, damp. I could smell her. I lay there in that spot. I undressed so I could feel her presence with my whole body.

And I could feel her presence. I lay on my stomach and pressed my face into the spot her breasts had been. I thought about the awful torment of those clamps on her nipples. I thought about how her back must have hurt. I thought about way her sides near her breasts must have felt to Amanda as she tickled.

As I lay on my back in the cool of Julie's sweat, I focused on Amanda's tickling. I thought about Julie's struggles, her torment, the way she looked up at me, or at the camera: pleading, desperate, beautiful, vulnerable, desirable. I though about how she cried out through her gag as the clamps were applied and how she simply melted after the vibrator was inserted.

Briefly, I wondered what Amanda might be doing with the naked Julie now. But by then I climaxed, unsatisfying though it was. The second time in the morning is never the best, but, in this situation, warranted. I used the classic helicopter move, spinning a flaccid penis in circles, to get an initial erection. It was my second time that morning - it took a little time. I achieved full erection with some fingertip teasing on the underside. Strong downward strokes with pressure from the heel of my thumb brought me to a climax, such as it was. I got up, cleaned up, and made the bed without changing that precious sheet. This time I had time to wash my hands and my prick.

Later, with Julie gone, Amanda and I made our noon meal. I chopped a salad of greens and vegetables. Amanda suggested we talk about my essay and purposeful living. She quizzed me on ways I thought could make improvements. Of course, there was no way I was going to tell her that my current strategy was to masturbate more often. I had to make something up.

"I've thought humor might help break my pattern of impulsive behavior. For example, I made a joke about my calendar when you asked if I would help video Julie this morning."

"I see. You make a little joke to buy time to think and make an intentional choice. Should you help or not? That is a common strategy. Many women use self depreciating humor to buy time and redirect situations. Is it your plan to interrupt your impulsive responses with misdirection?"

"I hadn't thought it through that much."

"I expect to be entertained by your comedic therapy."

"You know me, always good for a laugh."

"That's it, the self depreciating style. . ." She paused and got a little serious, "Actually, I don't know you, not really. You were a client I saw for brief, highly ritualized sessions. But because of your regularity and demeanor, I expected you to be a safe person. I believed your invitation was honest, if impulsive. So, I took the risk of moving in. Now that we live together, I'm beginning to like being with you."

She really said that! 'She likes being with me.' What do I say to that? How should I respond?

I hesitated, "Um, I appreciate you took the risk to be here. You have already taken me to places I would never have imagined."

She chuckled, "Oh, you mean like this morning's little activity? I apologize for that. I don't usually double book. I try to keep a good schedule. I'm glad you were here to help out. I'm afraid Julie tried to tease you while you made the video, looking all pitiful for you."

"I assumed she was playing to the camera. It was very effective. She looked so vulnerable."

"She is good, isn't she? Doing the video in your room was also good. It is larger, with better light."

"It's perfectly OK for you to do more in there. I hope you enjoy working in there."

"I know you enjoy what you do in there."

How does she know what I do in my bedroom? Is she just guessing? Can she hear me? What if she can? What if she knows?

"You do it quite a lot, you know. Most guys your age have your stamina - multiple times a day. We should probably clock you, maybe set some kind of record."

Again, I didn't know how to respond to that. Impulsively, I reacted the only way I knew: "Sometimes I think I can concentrate better afterward. You know, better able to be intentional about what I say and do afterward."

"Ah, the true strategy. Jerk off more to reduce impulsive behavior. Must keep your hand pretty busy because the effect doesn't seem to last long."

I swallowed very hard. The salad just went down un-chewed. I couldn't speak for a minute. A piece of cucumber momentarily lodged in my throat. I coughed it up. Amanda didn't seem to notice. She went right on.

"I was thinking the opposite, actually. You disappear into your room two or three times a day, plus mornings and evenings. That's a lot of time you could spend doing other things."

"Other things?"

"Yes, like self improvement - like mental and physical exercises - instead of jerking off you could take an online course or do pushups. Anything that would lead to a better future and demonstrate a more purposeful attitude."

"You think I masturbate too much."

"Oh no, there is absolutely nothing wrong with masturbation. I do it all the time, not nearly as much as you, but often. Perhaps I have sex with a partner more often, but still..."

She paused, as if considering what to say. I was completely unprepared for this conversation. I had no idea where she was going. It has been a while since I had sex with someone. That's why I am such an expert in masturbation technique.

"Anyway, I have had a number of clients who found it helpful to intentionally limit their orgasms for a period of time. They reported their energy redirected in purposeful ways. It usually worked best for them if they gave control of their orgasms to me so they wouldn't have to make that decision every day."

"'Intentionally limiting!' Why would they do that?"

"Because I asked them to."

"And you want me to try it?"

"I only suggest it because I like you and I think it might be helpful in moving our project forward. The point is when you put me in charge of this area of your life, you are likely to discover other, more fulfilling activities."

"The live more purposefully project?"

"Yes. I think if we took away this one behavior for a while, you would replace it with another. And, if we work together on it, that replacement could be to your long-term benefit."

"You want me to give up jacking off for a while? How long?"

"Well, we could work that out. Certainly, long enough for alternative behaviors to set in. Say a week to start?"

"You think I should keep from masturbating for a week? I don't know. I can't remember a day I haven't jacked off since my eighteenth birthday. Maybe when I was sick, I might have missed a day in my 20's, but even then. I don't know."

"Look, I get it. This would be a massive change in your life. I really like you and I think this could have a positive effect. Why don't you think about it? If you decide to try it, I'm here to help. Just like you helped me out this morning, I'll work with you."

I thought about what Amanda said while I cleaned up the kitchen. She had a Skype call scheduled. The fitted blouse she wore had a lace-up open neckline, perfect for her call. I'm sure her client appreciated it. I liked that her lipstick matched the dark red of her top. Her amazing lips were coated in this glossy, commanding red. Still, what I remembered of our talk were her eyes as she said she liked being with me. They somehow caught the light.

Maybe, if she says it will help, I could try not masturbating for a day or two, but a week? It is so easy to rub one out in the shower. How would it be possible not to? Maybe I could try to limit myself to just one in the morning just as an experiment. I suppose we could talk about it. I won't say no.

Now that I think about it through, how am I to cope, with her in my condo, dressed the way she does every day, all day, all night? I used to masturbate for days after visiting her for a couple of hours. Now it's 24/7. She's the reason I need to jack off 24/7. It's her fault I'm like this.

And then there's Julie. Amanda brought Julie here, into my life. There is no possible way to be that close, for that long, to an extraordinarily fuckable, bound and vulnerable woman who gives enthusiastic permission to watch her torment, without somehow being able to get your rocks off.

Nope, in this environment there is no way to go without ejaculating more than once a day. Maybe back when my day was filled with the problems of the restaurant. I might have been able to cut back on the number of times, maybe limited to just one time a day or maybe every other day, but I had other diversions.

Now my one diversion is to be driven to distraction by sex workers making sex tapes in my own condo. How the hell can I survive without an outlet? Nope, there is simply no way. I need to tell Amanda this is a really bad idea. Besides, I don't want to stop and I don't think I need to. Why should I give her the right to choose when I get to beat off?

On the other hand, I think she is sincere about wanting to help me. Maybe she does know best. Maybe I can be less obvious. Maybe I can limit my daytime wanks and focus on uninterrupted times. Times when I am alone in the condo. When Amanda is out on a run, when she will not notice. It will be less a big deal.

But then, she says it will help me, maybe I could try an experiment, just to see. Perhaps I could try it out her way. Maybe I could try a new plan today. Amanda is on a call. Theoretically I have the time to smell the sheet again, to be when Julie was, to feel her presence, without Amanda knowing anything. But if I don't, what if I do something else, maybe that's enough. Amanda wants me to do self improvement. I could do some exercises in my room.

But what I really want to do is lay down and smell Julie's scent on my sheets. What I want to do is a long slow afternoon wank, followed by a nap. I think I'd like to do the old "hump the bed" style: face down, butt up, legs spread. I want to put my face in the spot Julie was, to smell her if I can, while I hump for as long as I can.

I used to like this position: on my front, pillows under my chest, knees spread, humping into my hand. Not too difficult, but it required some careful arrangement of support on knees and chest, bridging high enough to give clearance for the prick. With a little lube, this used to be a favorite move, moving my hips to fuck my hand. I don't know why I stopped doing it. Julie has given me a good excuse to try it again. My face where her face was, my hips above where her hips were.

But, when I think about it from her side, Amanda just wants the best for me. She wants me to be better. She wants self improvement.

I have an idea: What if I make it a reward? What if I make a rule that I have to do 50 sit-ups before I get in position to hump the bedsheets? I think that accomplishes everyone's goals: Amanda's self improvement plan coupled with a good old fashioned reward system.

I have finished in the kitchen. Everything looks good. Amanda is still on her call. I can hear her voice, not quite sure what she is saying, but it sounds like she is being cross with someone.

Yeah, well, I don't like hearing that voice. I've heard it before when I disappointed her, being late for one of our sessions. When she uses that voice, she becomes overly articulate, announcing in no uncertain term what I have done wrong. There is no wiggle room when she is in that mode. I do not like her to be cross.

I went to my room. The plan was to do 50 sit-ups before humping the bed where Julie lay. But Amanda's cross voice was in my head. I didn't like hearing that voice. I decided to take a shower instead.

Under the warm water it was easy to forget everything, save the image of a naked woman in my bed. Long soapy strokes allowed me to forget Amanda's cross voice. I visualizing the way Julie's breasts moved, alternately fully displayed, then pressed into the mattress as she struggled. I used one hand to rub the tip of my cock against my other hand. (For this move I lubricate with hair conditioner. It lasts longer than soap.) Still, it didn't take too long, even as my third of the day, to finish off my mind-clearing wank with fast hard strokes. I pushed a soapy thumb up my ass to feel the contractions of my orgasm.

I thought about doing my 50 after the shower. But first I had to shave and brush my teeth. Then, wouldn't you know, I discovered I had no clean underwear. With the video of Julie this morning, I had forgotten I had laundry to do.

I figured I was clean, having soaped my ass, so I put on shorts 'commando style' and a tee. I walked out with a pile of laundry. Amanda was on the sofa reading her kindle. She was still in that red, open neckline top laced partly closed. Her luscious lips, still bathed in deep red, dominated the scene for me.