While Wearing a Sweatshirt

My forbidden evening was one of those things I like to remember as I fall asleep and hope I experience it again in my dreams. The morning after was every bit as nice and so, feeling that it's story time again, I'm once again wearing my favorite writing outfit for you, dear Reader.

As I've said, the evening had been long and hot even with the window open but now, as I type, it is cold winter and my open window allows just enough draft to stir the light hair of my naked legs and to tickle my ever sensitive penis. While I work on this story the cool air reminds me of my partial nudity and my cock slowly stirs, its memories of that distant night returning. It was there too, and is hungry to relive it.

It was the morning after our first night together. It was a forbidden situation; I was her supervisor. Never mind how we got there but after many hours of sex during the night we were relaxing, sleepless, on the bed next to the window in the morning sunshine. She had the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts as we chatted, while I was sitting nude on the side of the bed. Seeing my immodesty she said "Well, you're not shy about showing yourself!" with a smile.

As a matter of fact I was rather enjoying my naked display. I saw no reason to conceal myself -- not that I have ever considered my body all that attractive but here we were, with her perspiration and vaginal juices drying on my skin, so I thought her words could be taken as an invitation to some new and creative license. This was many years ago, before easy pornography on the internet so she had probably seen only a handful of naked men -- she was no virgin, I knew that, but I might yet entertain her. It had certainly been dark while we made love so I decided to give her a good, bright look at my body. I climbed up and straddled her with my knees next to her chest.

I was soft but not for long; even after fucking my brains out all night I could still manage another erection. Her eyes widened and she stared with her lips apart. My cock in the sunshine was a little sticky still from the juices of her vagina - and my semen - but I lightly caressed myself until I felt my tireless blood seeping back into my cock and it started to grow. Again.

The sweatshirt that protects my chest and tummy from the draft also deadens some sensation so I reach under it and up and I tweak my nipples. A very special lover taught me that once; nipple play is exquisite, even for a man. I will continue to type, I think, with my little nipple clamps on my chest. Yes, I really am just self-freaky enough for that. I deny myself nothing: I never have and I never will. Ahh, a little ouch at first, then titillation on my chest as the steel chains wiggle and dangle while my hands and arms move over the keyboard.

Ah, I love writing in the near-nude!

I placed my hands on my hips and allowed her to watch my cock harden. It felt so free, so naughty, so taboo -- I felt my first thrill of exhibitionism. She touched me a little, softly, exploring. Her touches caused me to flex myself and my cock made little leaps and soon I was completely hard. I showed her how the skin slides up and down my hardness when stroking and I showed her how my scrotum tightened as I get closer to orgasm, instinctively drawing my testes into safety. She wrapped one hand around my shaft and told me she loved the feel of my cock, and her other hand cupped my balls.

She moved her hands away to caressed my hips and buttocks - oh, such a gentle and bold touch! I was getting carried away with lust. I held my shaft with my right hand and slowly stroked myself as she watched.

Imagine what she was seeing for the first time - a man with a big hardon in the sunshine, masturbating right in front of her face. She licked her lips and I could feel her eyes looking at me. My skin could feel her vision licking me. I should have been embarrassed to show her how I liked to pleasure my cock but I thought we had already broken every rule in the book so why stop? Imagine it was you, what would you have thought and done?

I sit back in my chair now, for a rest, and I close my eyes. My hand is firm around my hard self, and I am imagining she is again watching me from between my knees. I see her pretty face untouched by the years, so many years, but I still admire her youth as she was then. It feels so good -- I don't want to come in front of the text, I just want to remember and feel and love the memory and the feeling. I push my knees apart for a little while and I stroke my hard cock slowly and with self love. When I am ready to come I will pull out my secret little bottle of slippery stuff but until then, one hand enjoys my shaft and the other hand rubs the area just above my shaft -- where the hair grows. This is one of my special little spots.

My cock was feeling better and better as she stared. Clear precum was starting to flow and I scooped up the earliest drop on a fingertip and I fed it to her. She sucked my finger into her mouth intensely and I could feel her tongue licking the whole length of my finger. I could feel the ridges in her mouth, her saliva was wet, her teeth were hard and her tongue was like a free little animal in a dark cave.

"That's a nice taste!" she said. "I always thought that little drop was pee, but it is thick and sweet! Can you make some more?" I nodded. When there was another drop I leaned forward and touched it directly to her lips and I had the incredible sensation of her tongue brushing the tip of my penis. She savored it then leaned forward herself and took the head of my cock between her lips. Oh... my...eff... gaw...

She said "I like that, and the head of your dick is so spongy and soft. Isn't there supposed to some skin covering it, though?" I explained circumcision briefly, reflecting that as well-used as her pussy had been there might still be some things I could teach her.

It was lovely when she had kissed and savored my glans but I didn't want a blow job just then. This wasn't about that; I wanted to display my nakedness. I was by now so thrilled with lust that I leaned back on one hand for support and quickened my strokes toward the climax I wanted to show her. The climax I was now greedy for. I had to have myself.

I'm sure, dear Reader, that by now you must be thinking that this is all a wanker's fantasy, that it never really happened, that a lusty man in his twenties could never have resisted the wet, sucking lips of a pretty girlfriend. I promise you that it did happen. I was thrilling to my exhibitionism, to the raw indecency of masturbating right in front of a watching woman -- a subordinate who could later, if she wanted, make my life at work a living hell by telling the other girls in the office about it. I put the risk out of my mind and quickened my pace.

My hips began to thrust involuntarily. I masturbated for her. The jangling deep inside my loins teased me, teased me, my cock felt like it was the cork in the mouth of a bottle about to burst -- and I let it burst with burning, grateful ecstasy. It feels like peeing fire a little at a time. I aimed my penis at her face and I ejaculated repeatedly onto her forehead, her cheekbones, her lips and dribbling white and pearly onto her throat. I leaned forward on my left arm, the hair under my arms damp and the sweat on my chest in the warm-again sunshine running in droplets over my belly toward my crotch, while my right arm fisted my cock onto her.

She watched me. My load was all over her. She was breathing steadily, looking at me.

I stayed where I was, letting my cock stay in front of her, with more semen dripping between her breasts as my cock softened. I don't remember how long I panted and shivered before her. She took some of it from her cheek with a finger and tasted it. I wiped some onto her lips and shifted my body down and kissed her, trying to give her the sweetest and most intimate kiss I could. I had learned that she did not enjoy French kissing but still, I tried for us both to enjoy the taste of my cooling load.

I cupped her breasts and breathed deeply with her in my arms as I recovered. We lay there a while; spent, there was nothing more I was capable of. I dozed briefly until she gently said she was going to take a shower. I lay on my back while listening to the water running and I concentrated on committing the entire evening to my memory, trying to memorize every last detail and sensation.

Later, sharing coffee, I asked if she would give me a show in return, to let me watch her touch herself, and all she said was "I'll think about it" and it never happened. Another time I will tell you about why it never happen -- well, it sort of did, actually. That will be my next, and last, story about Flora. Yes, Flora was her name. It was short for Floranda. I say that with the certain and safe knowledge that she has long since forgotten all about me.

Ever since then the image of someone watching me from between my knees has been a favorite fantasy of mine. Sometime I wish I could masturbate for her again, and sometimes I imagine it is someone else lying below me watching. I have asked all my lovers after her to play such a game with me but it has been my luck that they never wanted to.

I shan't complain, though, about the luck that I've had. Some men have had more luck than I but I'm sure more men have had less. Certainly, MOST men have no idea of the sensation of plucking nipple clamps off at the moment of orgasm -- a treat I am now enjoying in secret, slippery greed. I pull the bottom of my sweatshirt up to my chest, close my eyes and I fertilize my hairy garden with guiltless pleasure.