Stroing Science

"It's all 'Her pussy dripped from her desire' and 'His cum exploded from his pistoning cock.' I'll try and find something worthy of reading." He looked over at her to see if he had embarrassed her, and then worse, himself.

She had pulled the rolling chair next to his, her expression engaged but otherwise unreadable.

It was a Friday night. Their 4

th

date. They had planned it earlier in the week. They would have sex later, she'd pretty much guaranteed it. But even up to dessert he wasn't certain.

It would be the 1

st

time they'd go the whole way. He was happy as hell. She was beautiful and she'd enjoyed whatever they had done so far; as far as he could tell. It was still early in the relationship - she could be a good faker, but he didn't dwell on that shit. She smelled good sitting next to him. That was enough for now.

"Are some sites better than others?" She leaned forward a little to watch the screen.

"Yeah. Some are a smoke screen claiming to have a 'literary' approach to 'erotica.' Bullshit in a lot of cases. Either they are so tame that they don't do anything for me, or they're just plain old porn. But in a couple of cases I've found some consistent quality worth reading."

It was a strange conversation for him. He would never have predicted

this

was what they'd be doing after dinner when he met her at the restaurant. It was one of those neighborhood places - chef-owner, locally grown, high end drinks, but the atmosphere was low light, the food was fantastic and the prices were within his budget. She loved it and that always helped.

"So, before you met me, were you dating a lot?" She had opened a conversation over the baby greens and oysters.

"Umm, off and on. Mostly not." He wasn't sure how to answer questions like that - if he said he'd been dating a lot, what message did that send? And if he said no, not at all, he'd be signaling he was a loser.

"The reason I ask," she continued after a moment to reflect on her last bite, "is you seem to really enjoy sex, and I was wondering if it had been an awfully long time since you'd had any." She looked up with a mischievous glint and continued: "Or were you happy to just masturbate a lot?"

He smiled to cover his nervousness and buy some time. She was bold, and he liked that, but it made him very nervous when a new girlfriend asked him such personal questions. Not that there was any time he could think of when answering

that

question would make him completely comfortable.

"Weelll...how do I answer that? First, thanks, I mean, yes I really do enjoy sex a lot. Is it contagious?" He hoped the implied meaning was clear while he decided whether to address the second part. He took a forkful of salad and waited.

"I'm just curious," she said softly, her eyes looking up at him and back to the candles. "Yes, I have enjoyed being with you. I'm hoping we'll fuck like bunnies tonight, actually. But I was wondering: a) if you did masturbate then b) do you like to masturbate when you read porn or watch movies or do you just have fantasies?"

He almost choked but managed to maintain an outward appearance of calm, slowly swallowing the remaining bites he had chewed, practically into liquid. Okay, if she was going to fuck him anyway then there was little to lose.

"Yeah, well, mostly I just make stuff up in my head, but it depends. Sometimes I don't have much to think about and need fresh material...so I'll read a little or look at porn. Pictures mostly, I guess.." He stopped, realizing he was basically telling her what a loser he was. He looked up in alarm, and when he saw her face, he relaxed . She looked fascinated, like he was telling her the secret of making a million dollars or the recipe for the best perfume in the world.

"I want to see what you like to read when we go back to your place. But not before I try one of the desserts."

And that was that and here they were.

"Oh, this guy, if it is a guy--you never know--he writes pretty well...".

He didn't know a lot about her, after three dates. He knew she was about 26, that her birthday was in October and that she had three older brothers. He knew she had a degree in Anthropology and worked at a "creative agency." He had smirked when she had said it the first time, imagining some kind of call-girl setup, but after he picked her up there for one of their dates he was impressed.

It was in one of the new warehouse conversions - a brick building with names of the prior companies faded but still legible. When he walked into their suite, though, he was hit by the contemporary design - all metal and wood, spot-lit with art on the wall. She was just one of several beautiful women he saw walking around.

She explained what she did there, when he asked at dinner, but he wasn't sure he understood it. Something about customer ethnography and new product design. It didn't matter if he got it, she was smart; that much he understood.

She looked at the screen and let her thoughts drift while he found a suitable subject. She knew a lot about him, and she knew most of it before their first official date. She gleaned it the night they met at the Halloween party. A group of them had coalesced when each had realized they weren't alone in arriving without a costume. He cracked a joke, she laughed (it

was

funny), he asked her to dance and they agreed to see each other.

She had made a study of males starting around 8 years old. Her older brothers were fascinating to her: charming, heroic, amazingly stupid around women and constantly focused on sex. She didn't catch the last part until she was around 12, and by then her oldest brother, Frank, had left for college, but the other two, Jimmy and Chuck were non-stop.

When she learned about masturbation, first in sex ed class, and realized that boys were probably masturbating already, she was hell bent to satisfy her curiosity about her brothers. In spite of her best efforts, though, she only caught Jimmy once, and even then she wasn't certain--he yelled at her from under his covers and she couldn't see anything.

By the time she had turned 18, long after she had started dating boys from her school, her need to understand the masturbatory behaviors of the adolescent male eclipsed any good sense her girl-friends tried to impart to her. She got a reputation around school as "the girl who'd give a hand job" and that was just fine with her. She had taken an experimental interest in the subject and had more willing lab partners than she needed.

She was amazed at first at how easy the boys were. They would practically drop their pants before the drive-in movie began, knowing she was there to jack them off. In actuality, it wasn't quite that easy and neither was she. To avoid getting labeled a complete Ho, she made them demonstrate how they did it, watching in fascination as they made themselves cum. For any new boy, she used this bit of self-revelation as an insurance policy: if they even breathed a word of her interest in stroking them, a) she wouldn't do it later that evening (after they recovered), and b) she'd happily explain their technique exactly.

By the time she'd graduated, she had mastered a wide repertoire of rubbing cocks until they came. Some guys liked their balls stroked along with the shaft; some just the underside of the shaft, others with her hand wrapped completely around. Still others used the ball of their thumb to stroke the head of their penis, while others practically yelped in pain if she even lightly stroked them there.

Her interest in Anthropology, and ultimately a special interest in ethnography, was set long before she started college, but once she arrived she soaked up the techniques and theories of studying other cultures. She had finally discovered the academics to feed her self-discovered science. The experimental subjects in college continued to flow, so to speak, now under a more disciplined microscope.

By the time she was a sophomore, the guys began to expect more of her. They were more than willing to demonstrate their technique and to enjoy her ministrations, but for some it wasn't enough. Although she never found it all that satisfying personally, her dates seemed to enjoy using her mouth as much as her hand, so in the interests of research she explored this new means of imparting pleasure. Finally, by the summer of her sophomore year she had given up her virginity and truly understood why people ended up having babies.

Still, she knew the entry into a guy's heart was through their hand, and the lessons she had learned by the time she graduated stuck with her. She was continually fascinated by male masturbation and found it the easiest way to get her dates to let down their guard.

Darryn was just another lab rat in so many ways, although she liked him a lot and didn't really think of him as just another entry in her research notebook. He had a great sense of humor, was pretty sharp and a set of pecs she really enjoyed rubbing her cheeks against.

She pulled closer to him, looking at the website and following the story he had opened. His "computer room" as he called it was outfitted with high-tech office chairs -- the kind with all sorts of adjustments and levers. The upholstered backs were held away from the seats by a flat metal plate. As she joined him at the screen, an image of how to take advantage of the furniture popped into her head.

"Why don't you read it to me? I'd be a lot more comfortable."

He looked up at her to see if there was any trace of judgment. Finding none, he smiled and began from the start.

As he read, she closed her eyes, imagining the characters in the story: the first date, a nice restaurant, the guy a little older, the woman a little gullible. She smiled at the image of being asked to remove her underwear and spread her legs for him.

As Darryn read further, he began to lose focus of the room, diving into the scene the words painted. She backed up a little, letting him face the screen more comfortably and casually stole a glance to his crotch. As expected, his little man was raising a fuss...and some discomfort. He stopped and looked up at her at the sound of her chair rolling back.

"Keep going. I'm loving it. It's a great story. The serving spoons are a nice touch. I'm going to let you get a little more comfortable while I do the same."

He leaned over and they kissed, their tongues twisting together, the earlier meal's seasonings recombining. From the way he shifted after they broke the kiss, she knew his cock was causing some pain. He continued to read, even as he thought back to their first date.

She was beautiful. He couldn't believe she said yes to his suggestion for dinner. They met at the restaurant and he almost fell over: she was dressed in a simple blouse and jeans, but the outfit showed off her body in a way he hadn't noticed at the party. The cut of the blouse, off-shoulder, straight across her chest, following her clavicle, along with the jewelry - a simple pendant that drew his eye between her breasts melted him. He wished they could skip dinner and that she'd just let him kiss her all night.

In spite of the reminiscing, he continued reading, even if it distracted him from paying attention to her. She had backed up and quietly removed her top, unsnapping her bra. Rolling her chair directly behind him, she ran her fingers down his arms, lightly gripping his hands and pulled them back gently. Because of her position, he couldn't know for sure if she was half naked, but the likelihood made him stop and turn around. She didn't let him turn completely, urging him silently with her eyes to keep reading as he started to look over his shoulder.

She took her blouse and tied his hands lightly behind the upright of the chair back, wrists together. He had to lean a little forward to avoid cramping his shoulders, and he had to push the chair back slightly to give him enough clearance to read the screen. He was a little surprised, but he knew she was going to have sex with him tonight, so as out-of-the-ordinary as this seemed, he was open to the possibilities.

She rolled around to his side, her naked breasts now obvious to him and his arousal evident not only in the lump at his crotch but the dilation of his eyes. He leaned over to kiss her again, but she directed him to keep reading and turned her attention to his belt. Undoing his buckle, unsnapping his jeans and unzipping him proved to be a little awkward, her breasts jiggling next to him all the while, but she urged him to keep reading. She was getting interested in knowing how the spoons were going to play out as the young woman gives into the man's fantasies on his dining room table.

His cock was now out, waving at her and stiffening pleasantly. She pulled at his pants, letting him help her by lifting his butt momentarily, and she stripped him to his ankles. She stood up and peeled her own jeans down, teasing him with her neat auburn curls next to his face, backing away when he turned to kiss her.

Buck naked in the chair next to him, she watched his erection in fascination. It bobbed as he read, periodically jerking from his near-autonomic response to his own arousal. She unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it down off his shoulders as far as she could without straining his wrists. She saw a tiny bead of pre-come begin to glisten at his hole and she wiped it ever-so-lightly with her pinky, smearing it into his head, forcing a moan from him.

She knew what he needed. He had shown her their first date after he had kissed her in the car before she opened the door. She had slipped her hand into his shirt, rubbing his nipple and stroking the fine hairs on his chest. She suspected it would arouse him.

"I don't like to have sex on the first date," she said, stopping, knowing he was facing the prospect of blue balls or jacking off somewhere between here and his own place. "But I really like you." She kissed him again, moving both hands against his chest.

"Well," he said after catching his breath and turning towards her revealing his growing erection, "we could go in for a little bit We don't have to have sex, but maybe it would be more comfortable to make out inside?"

She smiled. "Yeah. No. I mean, I know we would start out that way, but then we'd both go too far and I just don't like to go too fast too soon. Yeah?" She looked him straight in the face, but made no motion to leave. It always confused them. She offered her mouth and they kissed again. She could practically feel his cock jump.

"I can tell you're getting hard," she said backing up a little and motioning to his crotch. "I know it's pretty uncomfortable for guys. I mean, for me it's just a little stain on my underwear, but I feel bad that you might get a case of the blue balls." She continued to look between his crotch and his eyes. "If you wanted," she said very quietly, "I would be okay helping you get a little relief."

He wasn't sure what that meant if she wasn't going to have sex with him, but the thought of not having to drive around with a woody was sounding pretty good. Maybe she thought sex meant fucking and she would give him head. In any event, she seemed to be moving her hands to his belt and he sat back to let her undo it.

"Actually," she said in almost a whisper, "I'd really like to see you show me yourself." She had stopped just at his belt and he looked at her, trying to guess her game. Whatever it was, it didn't feel weird...it was just a little different.

He opened his belt and pants and let his peter out, a sense of relief flooding him with the cool air. He watched her watching it, watching him.

"Do you want to feel it?" He asked her quietly, not wanting to scare her off.

"I'd love to see how you stroke yourself," she responded, and that was pretty much all it took. She watched him for the next few minutes as he masturbated, eventually spraying his jism on his pubic hair and belly. She kissed him hard when he had finished and thanked him for a wonderful evening, making sure he would call her for another date.

Now she slipped her hand around his cock just as he had shown her he liked to do it himself. He was a "finger-tipper" - gripping the skin lightly between thumb, fore and middle fingers, rubbing it above the deeper flesh. This grip let her feel him stiffen and she knew he wanted to get harder. As the blood filled his shaft further, she pressed a little harder, massaging the urethra and sending waves of pleasure into his balls. He rotated his pelvis in response, losing his place in the story. She could see it was almost finished anyway, the woman was about to get fucked by the guy, the spoons long since forgotten.

She let him go for a moment, got up and sat on the edge of the table, blocking his view of the screen. She spread her legs, opening her pussy, her expectation clear. Moving her fingers behind his neck, she gently increased his angle, pushing his head into her open crotch. She knew he wanted to come as much as he wanted to give her pleasure. His tongue hit her clit like a thunderbolt, his enthusiasm overwhelming his sensitivity to her state of mind. She pushed him harder, forcing his tongue deeper into her and sighed.

They were so easy, she thought as her pleasure mounted. As long as she didn't let him come before her own orgasm was ready, everything would work out fine. She loved to hear the sounds of his tongue and lips against her own; the thought of her fluids mingling with his saliva pushing another moan from her.

The sound of her pleasure urged him on further, in spite of the fatigue in his wrists and lower back. He could rest his chin on the desktop giving a little relief while he pushed into her with his face. He loved her smell; he loved how kinky she was. He could taste the change in her, her juices starting to flow differently and knew she was nearing an orgasm.

She wanted his cock in her. She pulled his head away and pushed him up a little, giving her access to his erection. Slipping off the desk, she straddled his legs, forcing his cock up at an angle, and shimmied her wet cunt around it. Slowly, very slowly, she sat down on him, moving him into her as deeply as the odd position would allow. She reached around to untie his hands, pushing his juice covered face onto her breasts.

Now, with his hands free, he moved to her nipples, rubbing them with his thumbs the way he thought she liked. She moaned and he continued, pushing a little harder, indenting them and not rubbing so roughly across them. She pushed her chest forward and wrapped her arms around his back, pinning his hands between their two chests. He slipped his hands out to her buttocks pulling her buns apart giving him deeper access to her. She was really wet and beginning to move off of him. She lifted off completely, looking down at his cock, his head shiny with her juices. She bent over and kissed his forehead, nose and his lips when he turned to look at her.

With her tongue pushing into him, she lowered herself down. She penetrating while he penetrated. Slowly, teasing, until she bottomed out. Her lips were curling under a little and she slipped her hands down to spread them, lightly stroking the base of his cock with her thumb. She could feel every pulse from him and it started the slow building of her orgasm. It was going to be big, she could tell. The images from the story still played in her head, the smell of his neck, his hands on her cheeks. It was going to happen any moment, and she hoped he could hold out for her, but she was almost past the point of caring.

As her orgasm began to crest, she let out a little laugh, hugging him tightly. She was transported, for just a moment, into a character in a story: the image of them fucking on the chair filled her mind; the sound of her pussy, drenched from her desire filled the room.