[An Account from the PRISM Chronicles] Part 8
A Personal Note
My name is Jonathan Stone. Yes, I've written a number of sensuous accounts under the PRISM Designs tag, and most of those have their origin in my personal experiences. I've rarely hinted at what I'm like, but I'm going to do so this time. I've been strongly encouraged by my best friend whom I'll describe shortly. She's convinced that it will make unusual and erotic reading.
I have a sister, Erryne, who is a lot like me. Neither of us knows much about our parents other than a few erotic memories that, remarkably for such situations, are pleasing and delicious. Erryne is Japanese; our parents adopted her at a younger age and were overjoyed ever since. All I remember about her is that she was crabby when we first met but we learned to smooth out things later. She and I got along well but separated when we went off to college.
Like a fool, I lost contact with her and now I can't locate her even if someone gave me a fortune to do so. I'll probably have to hire a PI in order to do this thing right. Guess I will at sometime in the near future.
I'm a bit over six feet in height and weigh in at around 180 pounds, have a strong build from years of hard work and exercise, and enjoy a few other assets that are uncommon to men such as I.
My heritage is Cajun with some mixture of other strains that only my Creator knows. I have green eyes, auburn hair, something that is uncommon for men, and it's very dense, very long...it falls to my waist, and it has those delicious waves that women often want. I have this because my mother at some point was part of a group that believed sons ought to never have their hair cut...some kind of dedication rite, I suppose.
Anyhow, I really enjoy it, and it stimulates me sexually to no end. It is extremely heavy, it curls about my face, and often out in public when I'm wearing it long, I become aroused and.... Well, that's a delicious little problem that I enjoy.
Because of the color of my hair, my body is smooth for the most part. I dislike facial hair, and in my teens I finally decided to shave everything, underarms, legs, all of me except an oval patch of shiny auburn grass just above my shaft to accentuate its pleasantly increasing size. The fur has continued to thicken until now it's a dense, crisp mound that that protrudes noticeably above my cock. I carefully trim it as I caress myself. These sorts of personal acts arouse me to considerable heat.
When I was in college studying engineering at Louisiana State University I took a year off to do something that always intrigued me and seemed heroically erotic; I had a medium-thickness gold ring inserted into the mouth of my cock.
In the immortal words of Clint Eastwood, "It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."
Anybody who believes that is easy is crazy. My specialist at Pandora's Heavy Metal told me that it would take at least three months for my stem and my system to become adjusted, and six months or longer for it to become a natural-feeling part of me. Because I was young, I was in college, and they know everything! I went ahead. She did, too, and for the next several months I alternately cursed and complimented myself. More cursing than complimenting.
When I'd passed the acid test and my shaft had healed, Pandora called me in for what I believed was a specialist-client conference. Oh, did I ever get one of my life's more pleasant and memorable surprises! More on Pandora Brennan shortly.
I reflect on this masterful procedure now and wonder if I was finally getting the college guy out of my system or if I am deeply flawed in some nutty but erotic fashion. Anyway...finally I could enjoy the appearance and delicate stimulating weight of my ring and the delicious, heavy creation in which it's mounted.
During the following summer I made several trips to Caribbean islands and American vacation spots where I could be nude and enjoy it.
I've been blessed with good genes that have produced an attractive body, and something else. Sometime along the way I developed a glandular condition known as something-or-other technical, one day I'll get it right. It's an enlargement of a male's breasts that sometimes departs with time, and sometimes it remains. My mother wanted me to accept it and learn to enjoy it as normal for me, so I went along. I'm not saying it was easy...just that I went along with her wishes.
That took some doing and a considerable amount of hiding, but you do what you have to do. As an adult now I'm thankful I allowed things to continue. I now have a shapely, prominent pair of breasts with firm nipples that are quite plump and are extremely sensitive. My boobs are large enough yet sufficiently firm to jiggle in a most erotic way. And yes, I remember very well that famous statement of guys when they see a majestic chest on a girl..."Man! If I had those babies, I'd play with myself all...the...time!"
All right, I enjoy them often. So? I know, I'm on a silly jag.
To enjoy a seriously nice cleavage as I do is quite unusual. In the beginning I tried foregoing the usual support underwear because my muscles are firm enough to support my breasts. I do get some stimulating stares when I wear my shirt somewhat unbuttoned because my breasts and nipples are easily visible, and I enjoy the sensation. After a time I gave up on that because, though my doctor cannot explain it, my breasts continue to enlarge slightly but definitely. They really do present a striking and extremely erotic view.
When I work out in only shorts and flat-soled, Velcro-strapped shoes, I really get the stares...and glares. At times my means of avoiding some of this crap is to wear a racer top with no support beneath it. Yes, my nipples get hard and swell so much that it makes me hot. Or I surrender and wear a filmy, transparent bra. Best I can do.
And then there are those times when I give in to my urges and simply go without a top working out, washing my truck or doing some other type of labor just to show off my gorgeous tits! Given my physical condition, I rarely get anything but admiring looks and one or two smart-ass remarks. Those people are usually jealous.
Charlotte Bennett, my physician of years, finally remarked with an irritated tone during my most recent exam, "Look, Jon, you're one of only a very few men with this physical problem...or pleasure...depending on how you view it. Frankly, you are the most attractive, sensuous man I've ever met. You are too damned attractive for your own good...you're well-shaped, almost beautiful with your face and that mass of auburn hair and your smooth skin, yet there's an aura about you that warns off people.
"There's something about you that most men want...an air of well-governed threat...but with you it's a natural quality. I've never seen this before. You should enjoy your health and strength, get aroused with that hair, those lovely tits, and that cock most people would kill to have, and go have some other problems. But never this. Hell, come down off your horse and wear a sexy bra if you have to. Take care of those babies!
"Damn, Jonathan! If I weren't happily married, forty-five years old to your thirty-four, and have two wonderful kids, I'd chase you till you dropped!"
She smiled broadly yet had a light in her eyes that said she was not joking about her corrective compliment. She's a real professional, but she caught me off guard when she stepped over to me and kissed me lightly.
"Okay, buddy boy, 'nuff sed. Let's get on with blood pressure, prostate checks and the other business." And we did.
