Chapter 2
It had taken 15 minutes for my erection to subside enough to comfortably zip my pants back up. Fifteen minutes of sitting quietly in the booth sipping my gradually cooling coffee, praying nobody came close enough to see me under the table, and doing my best not to replay the erotic events in my mind. My best was not very good.
I wasn't even willing to distract myself with my phone, for fear of somebody else seeing some
other
change she'd made.
I went directly back to my apartment, and stripped off everything. I was already hard before I'd finished unzipping my pants. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? To be a 'naked male'? No, that was only half the equation. I wanted β
needed
an observer. A woman to accept me, to validate me β all of me; my body, my desires.
My right hand reached down to my dick, as if guided by an unseen force while my left glided down to my balls. They both started to massage and tickle, vainly trying to replicate the sensations she had given me at the coffee shop. Within seconds, my fingers were coated with my own precum. With considerable effort, I stopped playing with myself. "No, she said not to cum," I reminded myself aloud.
I decided to turn my unspent energies towards sleuthing instead. "She said her place at 4pm β that's just over 3 hours away, but where's her place? I don't even know her name!" Talking aloud helped distract my mind from my heated loins.
I retrieved my phone from the pocket of my jeans sitting crumpled by the door where I left them. "Maybe I can see what else she did." Holding my phone upright caused the lock screen to again illuminate. "I'll change this back after I meet with her again." I pressed my thumb to the home button expecting it to unlock, but it was unable to recognize my thumbprint through my precum-soaked fingers. Finally, I just resorted to entering my passcode directly.
My message app was the last thing she had looked at, and I saw she had sent my nude selfie to a number a didn't recognize. "That must be her number. Still no name, though ... and more importantly, no address..." Backing out of that message, I saw she had also sent it to one of my contacts. My mind raced in panic, until I got a closer look at the contact picture... it was a cropped close-up of just my dick, and the name was listed as "Miss". There was an address, too. "Okay,
this
must be her then. So, who was that other number?" Well, whoever it was, they now had a dick pic of me. I was grateful I decided to leave my face out of the selfie afterall.
The important thing was I knew where I was supposed to go next, and I had plenty of time to get there. The hard part was going to be killing time until then... without masturbating, that is.
***
I arrived at her door by 3:57, after several cold showers, and a moderately long bus ride. The house was a cosy two-story house with a one-car garage, and a couple of oak trees on the front lawn. The porch was shaded by the trees, and took up most of the front of the house.
I walked up the porch steps and was about to ring the doorbell, when a sign taped to the door caught my attention.
Dick!
Before knocking, remember: This will only work if you are as committed to your role as I am to mine. You have expectations about how we will convey ourselves, as do I. Here are mine:
β’ You will never know my true name
β’ I will never know your true name
β’ I will always be clothed β you will never see nor feel my flesh
β’ You will always be naked β you will never again wear