The Masturbatrix

"The thing about Amy," Jay said over his shoulder, "is there's more to her than meets the eye."

"What do you mean?" I was intrigued by what Jay was telling me about his long-time, female friend.

"Well," continued Jay, "she's a nice looker, for sure, but that's not her real talent. She's a bit kinky."

"Amy? Really?" I was not buying what Jay was trying to sell. We had ordered drinks in our favorite watering hole, and Jay had bought the first round in order to maintain my attention.

"Yeah. Seriously. I'm not kidding." Jay emphasized his words by leaning in closer. "Kind of surprising what lurks under the surface." He paused just a bit too long for effect. "She is obsessed with jacking guys off. And when I say obsessed, I am not exaggerating."

"Bullshit." I was used to Jay and his crazy stories.

"No, really, man. Hand jobs are her 'thing,' and she likes to do it. A lot. And repeatedly. She even has a name for it. She calls herself a 'masturbatrix.'" Jay pronounced the word slowly and with purpose. "The chick is proud of it."

I blinked, shook my head, and leaned forward in my chair. "Come again?"

Jay smiled and slowly pointed his index finger right into my face. "Exactly. Exactly right," he said with a smirk.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." I still thought Jay was feeding me a line of crap. The bartender handed Jay our beers and he began walking to a nearby booth.

As he walked, Jay continued with his sales pitch about Amy's proclivities. "She won't take 'no more' for an answer. She jacks you off, and then she jacks you off again. And maybe even again after that. And you really don't care because she's superbly talented. She makes you want it over and over again anyway."

I truly did not believe what I was hearing. "Let me get this straight," I said. "This friend of yours, this Amy, this, 'good person for me to meet under the circumstances', she's a... what... an easy lay?"

"No. Definitely not. Not at all." Jay shook his head and sat our drinks on the table in the booth, smiling benignly at my confused look. "Sit down. You are not listening. It's not about sex. It's about control. She loves having control over a man. She does it for pure enjoyment, not to have sex or even for money. She's not a professional. In a sense she's an amateur, but that's the wrong word. I'm making her sound inexperienced. In point of fact, she's a fucking expert; a superbly-skilled, refined, expert at jacking off guys, and she's looking forward to meeting you. Here. Tonight."

Fortunately, I didn't have a mouthful of beer or I would have choked. "What the hell, Jay! Just what have you told her about me? What have you arranged?"

Jay sat across from me and took a draw on his bottle. "Don't worry, nothing indiscreet, nothing incriminating. Only your first name, and that you're a friend of mine. I've known Amy a long time, and we hang out sometimes. We drink; we gossip. I've told her how much you've bragged to me over the years about your supposed multiple orgasms. How you say you can cum sometimes two or three times when you fuck. She's really into things like that. And I haven't really 'arranged' anything at all. I just suggested that you two might like to get to know each other, no more than that."

I was annoyed. "If you think that I'm going to just meet up with a total stranger for sex --!"

Jay was quick to cut me off. "No, no, I've told you already; she doesn't fuck, she's a masturbatrix. She positively isn't interested in screwing you. Believe me; I've tried to get in those pants more than once. She's wonderful. I love spending time with her, and she gives off this incredible, sexy, vibe. But she only likes to... no, 'likes' is too much of an understatement; she's totally obsessed with dicks, with playing with them, teasing them, making them stiff as hell, and relentlessly and mercilessly jacking them off. You have to experience it to believe it."

I put my drink down. My knee-jerk protests died away as Jay's description of Amy began to sink in. Thinking of the whole idea was starting to get to me - somewhere in my groin area, actually. The prospect of meeting this person, this Amy, was becoming a whole lot more interesting. "But what does she get out of it?" I persisted, still with some doubts.

"Yeah," continued Jay, "I've wondered that too. It seems to be like a personal mission of hers. She's driven to go on and on until you've really -- and I mean really - had enough. Then she just leaves you and goes home."

I shook my head in disbelief with a look on my face that clearly expressed my distrust in what Jay was saying.

"Yeah, I know, it's weird as hell. She once told me, when I really pressed her, that she re-lives her best experiences as fantasies when she's by herself. Gets off on it, I suppose. Prefers it that way. Go figure." Jay sat back and smiled. "So, what are you gonna do?"

I opened my mouth, but I will never be able to remember what I was about to say to Jay, because at that moment the door to the bar opened and an eye-poppingly attractive woman walked in. After glancing in our direction, she began waving to Jay.

"And there she is -- speak of the devil. Excuse me a moment." As I watched, Jay walked over to the woman and gave her a big hug. Was this Amy? I felt my heart begin to pound. Was I ready for this? I had brief fantasies of retreating to the bathroom and escaping out of the window into the alley. But the two of them stood between me and that route of escape. I was cornered, and I was not going to be able to walk out without being noticed or incredibly rude.

Too late; here they came, their conversation too muffled to make out. Jay said something about having somewhere else to be. I stood up as Jay gave me a wink over the woman's shoulder and said his goodbyes as he sped, maybe a bit to quickly for my comfort, out of the bar. The two of us were alone.

"Hello, I'm Amy. You must be Scott." She was petite, but fit and toned, with her red hair in a loose knot on the top of her head. She looked in her late thirties. Quite pretty in an elfish sort of way with an angled face, nice cheekbones, vividly blue eyes, and strong smile creases outlining her mouth.

"Uh, hello." I stammered awkwardly. "Yes, I'm Scott. Very nice to meet you. Jay's told me a lot about you." My response sounded absurdly and inappropriately formal, given what Jay had just told me. She held out her hand. I almost flinched, imagining she was reaching straight for my cock. But fortunately, I realized she was just responding in kind to my formality. I felt like an total idiot as I reached to clasp her hand. "Would you like something to drink, Amy?"'

We held the handshake for what seemed just a moment too long, then she turned to remove her coat and sit, and I took the opportunity to admire her petite figure and especially her ass as she leaned over to place her coat on the chair. Most any man with a pulse would find her attractive, not just her looks, but also an apparent warmth and directness that immediately spoke to me. But how much were my feelings being influenced by what Jay had just told me about her?

Jay had given me no sense of an agenda beyond meeting for drinks. He had made it clear this was not dinner or a date. I was beginning to panic and expect an awkward and uncomfortable evening between two strangers with little in common, the time filled with stilted silence. I was completely wrong. After a few minutes of conversation, I was relieved to find Amy and I were surprisingly well-matched. Our discussion soon felt oddly familiar, talking together as if it were the most natural thing. I realize now that it wasn't because of me. It was primarily Amy. She had an ease about her and a knack for conversation. It made me incredibly comfortable from the very start. She commanded respect and easily directed our discussion to a variety of topics. She was obviously intelligent and able to speak knowledgably about most any topic. Now, I don't remember any of the details of what we talked about, but I do remember feeling stimulated -- intellectually and not just between my legs. Amy was expertly seducing my brain. She made me forget why Jay had suggested we get together in the first place.

After an hour or more, I was so relaxed I decided to be bold and try to take control of the situation. I abruptly changed the subject and asked, "Would you like to come over to my place for a cup of coffee? I only live a few blocks away."

Amy smiled and did not miss a beat. "I'd love to," she said, "but I will warn you that I expect quite a bit from a cup of coffee. Exactly what type of equipment do you have?" There was a glint in her eye as she paused and looked directly at me with a wry smile.

Her innuendo went right over my head. "Oh, I grind my own beans with an Italian burr grinder. I've got an espresso machine or a French press, take your pick."

"The espresso will do nicely," she continued, "I love the chance to brew up a hot cup, get things really steaming, bring the milk to a frothy head, and squeeze out every bit of flavor, right down to the last drop." My mouth fell open, and I sat speechless. Even I couldn't miss the double meaning this time. "Come on," she said, grabbing my hand. We stood and started walking to the door. I felt suddenly and surprisingly warm. She turned and looked up at me sideways as we walked. "Are you okay? You look flushed?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Must be the liquor." I offered not too convincingly.

We were soon walking up the street, side by side. The cool night air had brought me back to my senses, and I was feeling more relaxed.

"How much has Jay told you about me?" Amy asked.

My mouth opened and closed. I just couldn't say it straight out like that. Besides, he might be playing a huge practical joke on me. That would be just like him. If it was a trick, I would look like an idiot. But if he had been telling the truth.... I decided to risk a reply. "He said you were an unusually... gifted person." I offered tentatively.

She looked thoughtful a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Yes, that's how I could imagine him describing me." she said. "How do you feel about that?"

I felt instant panic; neither of us had yet to say anything explicit about sex or our mutual expectations. I could still be the unwitting victim of Jay's practical joke, and it this could result in a hugely embarrassing misunderstanding. However, after a pause I managed to get out, "I have to say it was a bit difficult to believe, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued. I'd be very interested in finding out more."

She took my arm and hugged it to her. "Oh, good. I'm glad." I saw Amy's smile widen and we quickened our pace up the street.

We walked down the block in silence, Amy still holding onto my arm. We continued without speaking even after crossing the few intersections between the bar and where I lived. Every so often I looked down at her, only to see her glancing back at me, a furtive smile on her face. I unlocked the street entrance to my building, and we stepped into the vestibule. The moment the door closed behind us and we were out of street view, Amy turned to me as if about to speak. But instead, she pressed her entire body against me. I could feel the softness of her breasts pressed tight against my chest. She rapidly reached between us and firmly cupped her hand over my crotch. She sighed and murmured breathlessly into my chest, "I'm very much looking forward to this, Scott. Are you sure you're OK?"

My surprise at her boldness made me totally mute. I put my arms around her, and we stood silent for a moment until the outer door began to open, startling us both. Another tenant entered and was surprised to discover us. We quickly separated and walked the remaining distance to my apartment. Flustered, I somehow managed to unlock and open the door without dropping my keys. Once we stepped inside my apartment, she pounced on me again, straddling one of my legs with hers and wrapping her arms around my neck. But then she quickly drew back as if she had completely changed her mind. I was utterly confused.

"Oh, I forgot to ask, does anyone else live here?" she looked at me quizzically.

"Nope, we're all alone," I said. "I'm thankfully past the point where I need or want a roommate."

"Good!" She responded, leaning back into me and venturing a light kiss on the cheek. She appeared instantly relaxed and made herself right at home. I watched as she flittered around the apartment, giving herself a quick tour, looking first into one room and then the next.

As she moved through the apartment, I was struck again by how sexy she looked. I intercepted her as she flew past, pulled her to me and tried to kiss her. I instantly realized I had made a huge mistake. She planted her hands firmly on my chest and pushed me away, looking at me wide-eyed with a slow shake of her head. "No, no, no. Scott, that is not going to happen. I obviously don't know everything Jay told you. But you need to be clear and understand. I need to be the only one who initiates things tonight. You must follow my lead and my directions, or this is not going to work. You do this my way or not at all."

I was still confused and puzzled as to just what we were supposed to be doing, but I was determined not to mess things up. "I'm sorry, Amy... I just...." I began my apology, but she raised her index finger to her lips.

"Shhh. Not to worry." Slowly, she knelt down onto her knees directly in front of me. Her head was even with my crotch. She tilted her face upward. "No need for apologies. This probably seems rather strange to you, Scott. That's why I asked you what Jay had said about me."

"Well, he didn't go into a lot of details, but he said you liked to... that you liked... well,... that you like penises." I felt my face flush red with embarrassment. Jesus! I probably sounded like an complete dip-wad.

Amy threw her head back and laughed. "I seriously doubt Jay phrased it quite that way. I know him better than that. More accurately, I like dick. I love a stiff, hard, throbbing cock and a man that will let me have my way with it," she said as her eyes twinkled. "Listen, Scott," she went on looking more serious, "I really like you. I mean it, even though we've only just met." She paused a moment as if to gauge how I was doing. I nodded. "I'm not offering to be your girlfriend or your lover. Please be very clear on that. Nor do I want or need you to fuck me. In fact, I'd really prefer it if you never ever even ask me about that. OK?"

What was I supposed to say? This was not a normal situation. Not normal at all. I had no idea how to respond. "Sure, okay." I stammered.

"But," she continued again, "what I do need from you is a promise that you will agree to do whatever I say tonight. I am the final authority here, and if you can't handle that, then I need to know it right now. I am running this show, and there can be no confusion about who is in charge -- that would be me. I will not allow you to question my authority. In exchange, I will guaranty that you will be safe, and I will not hurt or injure you. We are both here for our mutual enjoyment, but you will have no say in what happens tonight. If you can't accept that, then I need to just leave."

I stood silent and thought for a moment. This entire situation was crazy. I was even crazier for being a part of it. But I was aroused as hell by the concept of what Amy was saying. My level of horniness was overriding any vestige of good judgment. That was the deciding factor. So, I nodded and said, "Okay, I agree. Just tell me what I am supposed to do."

"For the moment, just stand still. I've been dying to see what I get to work with tonight." Amy began nuzzling my crotch, nibbling the fly of my jeans and running her hands up and down my thighs and ass. It felt great, but she looked a bit ridiculous. After a few confusing moments, I realized she was trying to open my zipper with her teeth.

Now it was my turn to laugh. "There are easier ways of doing that, you know," I said. She responded by turning her face upward and breaking into a mischievous smile.

"Never could resist a good challenge." And she renewed her efforts with her mouth. The zipper started to come down but stuck half-way as it usually does on that particular pair of jeans. I instinctively reached, but she brushed aside my helping hands. "Hey! Remember, I am the boss, and I am in charge here. I will do this myself, or not at all," she said quite firmly.

"Fine, you are on your own," I responded. "I am putty in your hands."

"Not for long, if I have anything to say about it." she said, reaching inside my now gaping pants. I loved her quick tendency to make a joke or pun at my expense. It was incredible how she could keep her sense of humor while simultaneously fishing inside my underwear to grab hold of my cock. It was all so captivatingly sexy.

Amy's hands on my dick got my immediate attention. My cock had already begun to stiffen when she was fiddling with my zipper, but as she expertly maneuvered it out of my briefs and began seriously stroking it with both hands the flesh rapidly swelled to full size. She rolled the stiff rod between her hands, gently kissing it from time to time. I felt a bit weak in the knees. "How long since you last came?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Though I was surprised by the question I couldn't help but give her an honest answer, "Not for about four days. I've been completely swamped at work, and by the time I get home from the gym, eat and do what I need to do around here, I am so tired out, I have had no urge to masturbate. It's not like me really. I usually enjoy it, but I just haven't felt like it." I imagined I saw a multitude of emotions rapidly cross Amy's face - surprise, sadness, calculation and concern, all competing with one another.

She seemed to reach a decision. "Okay, then I think you'll need a quickie first. You know, just to get things off to a nice start." I opened my mouth to question what she meant by 'first' -- but then I remembered my promise to do what I was told and also what Jay had said about Amy's expertise. Amy swiftly got to her feet, whirled around behind me and pressed the full length of her body against my back. Her hands reached around my hips, the right one seizing my dick and the other cradling my balls in the palm, fingertips reaching backward. She began stroking my cock in an efficient, business-like fashion. The strokes were rapid and vigorous, holding my straining dick between her thumb and three fingers. It felt fucking incredible! I had been horny as hell since Jay left us at the bar, and everything that happened since only added to the equation. The fingertips of Amy's left hand reached further back under my balls, pressing firmly upward into the space between my sack and asshole. Before I even knew what was happening, I felt the orgasm coming. With a few more quick strokes, Amy's magic hands had me squirting halfway across the room. Rope after rope of cum spewed from the end of my cock. It was almost as if Amy's hand movement was synced with my contractions. I groaned and watched the thick white goo spatter on the floor. I hadn't lasted even thirty seconds.

Amy laughed enthusiastically. "You respond very well! And how fortunate that you have hardwood floors and not carpets," she observed. I could not help but laugh along with her. This situation was unbelievable. What had just happened? We hadn't been in my apartment for five minutes, and Amy had already made me cum all over the floor.

Amy led me by the hand, and we made our way to the sofa. A short while later, we were lounging and chatting about nothing in particular, sipping coffee (that Amy had expertly brewed with my espresso machine). The only odd thing was that I wore nothing below the waist. That was at Amy's insistence.

As we talked, she snuggled against my chest and stroked the tops of my thighs, lightly at first, tickling the leg hairs, and then going in circles, gradually moving down to the smoother skin on the inside of my thighs, bit by bit sliding up until she was just brushing the underside of my balls. "I like the fact that your clean-shaven. That is so hot. I can really see and feel what I'm doing." Part of me knew precisely what was going on and yet another part of me was distracted by her chatter. Before I knew it, I had the beginnings of another hard-on.