Here is another story. It's not part of my experiment with POV. As I'm being a little slower than I had hoped getting the rest of that story to you, I thought maybe you'd appreciate a substitute. This one is told in the form of an email. As always let you me know what you think.
- Sure. The boss is out, I need a little something to get me through the day. - Okay…… hmmmm…. The other day I was watching porn. Is that a good start?
- As good as any. Is it a true story?
- does it matter?
- Not really.
- Ha Ha!
So, I was watching porn. I was watching a woman masturbate. I got to thinking, I don't know what I look like down below. I am intimately familiar with how I feel; I’ve just never really examined myself before. I wondered, do I look like her? What would my clitoris look like when engorged? How slick and wet am I when I come? These questions, and more, flow through my mind as I watch the woman playing with herself. I’m slightly surprised it has never occurred to me to look before, but I guess I’ve always been more interested in how things feel rather than how they appear.
- Really? You’ve never looked.
- Sure, I’ve looked, just not examined. You are so much more visual than I am. I know enjoy looking, watching….filming. But that’s another story. In this story, I am alone with my curiosity.
- I remember the filming…
- Are you going to let me tell you this story?
- You should be. Where was I? Determined to rectify the situation, I get off the bed to find a mirror. Finding a hand held mirror in the bathroom, I slip off my underwear, and climb back onto the bed. Propping the mirror up against the footboard of the bed, I position myself in the middle of the bed, leaning against the head board. This affords me an unobstructed view of both the woman in the movie and myself in the mirror. I spread my legs nice and wide, pull my skirt up over my thighs so I have an unobstructed view of my…. This is where I always get into difficulty, what do I call it?
- Pussy, I like pussy. Get on with it
- Don’t rush me. You’ll enjoy it more if I tell it slower.
Anyway, I discovered we don’t look much alike at all. I'm not nearly as big as she is….my anatomy is more discreet, shall I say?
Well, seeing as she was a professional, I thought I would follow her lead. She was rubbing her clitoris with two fingers. I separated the folds of skin with my fingers, found my clit and started to rub. Very gently at first, in fact it was more a caress than a rub. - Damn
- Watching and feeling at the same time was a new and very enjoyable experience. It feels like I’m melting starting from the point where my fingers make contact with my clitoris but it spreads out and through me. But also like watching my pale fingers contrast against the warmer pink flesh between my legs. Are you still with me?
- uh huh. Keep going.
- The heat radiates out from the contact point relaxing and exciting me simultaneously. The heat reaches my breasts, which begin to tingle. I increase the pressure on my clit a fraction. Soon, my heart rate is climbing and my breathing is doing that hiccupy thing it does when I am excited.
- I like that hiccupy thing…
- I wanted to see what it would look like if I put my finger inside me. I press my forefinger into my pussy and close my eyes for a second or two to concentrate on how it hot and wet I am. It’s easy to get lost in how it feels but I am supposed to be watching myself too. When I opened my eyes I find I can’t see anything in the mirror; my hand is in the way, I move my hand slightly so I can see. It looks like my finger was being swallowed by a tight soft red mouth. I put a second finger in.
The folds of my vagina press against my fingers. (It’s quite tight in there, you know?).
- Yeah, I know. :)
- Experimenting a little, I tighten the muscles of my vagina to see if I could tell the difference, to see if I got tighter. I did.
I can only imagine what that would feel like around your dick. If, when I tighten my muscles around you it feels like you are being drawn deeper and deeper inside me…
- Damn, woman.
- I explore the inside of my vagina with my fingers, searching for my happy spot. I find it, curl the tips of both fingers against it and rock my hips slightly on the bed. The warm soft feeling is rapidly being replaced by a far more urgent feeling. I am no longer relaxed, I need more.
By this time I am having a difficult time watching myself in the mirror. I want to close my eyes and focus only on the sensations of my fingers stroking the inside of my pussy, but I force myself to watch. I also watch the woman on my computer, imagining we are masturbating together.
Would you like to watch me masturbate with another woman? - Hell yes!
- Put it on the list. I'm almost done. Are you still with me?
- Very funny… get on with it!
- The inside of my pussy is very slick at this point. My breathing, more like panting and my hips are moving almost involuntarily on the bed. With my free hand, I pull my shirt down, freeing my breasts. I take a handful of boob; my nipples harden quickly under the attention of my fingers, stroking, rolling and lightly pinching. I am very close to coming with the clitoral stimulation alone which, as you know, is very unusual for me. I decide to make myself come without any more vaginal penetration, no fingers, no toys, no nothing. I want to experience a clitoral orgasm. I press even harder on my clit, cupping my hand over my pubic bone to add more pressure. The mirror has been forgotten by this stage. There isn't much else in my mind but making myself come.... I let my head fall back, I don’t care how much noise I make. I writhe on the bed, my hips working furiously with my hand driving me closer and closer.
Then I come.
It is a very sharp and intense orgasm, radiating through my whole abdomen. I think I may have shouted but I am not paying attention to anything but the feeling of release, which lasts for what seems like forever. When it is over I lie on the bed panting, thoroughly exhausted. I smell of sex and sweat and my fingers taste like pussy and I am very pleased with myself.
So…how was that story?
- I’ll meet you in the supply closet in five minutes.
Okay, clearly I have been slacking in my porn writing responsibilities. I’m very sorry. I also have two full length novels in the works and am finding it a little harder than usual to leap from one project to the other. Maybe my ADD is on the wane. Dammit!
This whole writing from the male point of view business is hard. Frankly, I’m stuck. So…. Guys, any insight you can offer will be appreciated!
Until recently, the evening had not been promising. I had been looking at the prospect of spending the evening with my interminably dull boss. But now, instead of having to share a room with my flatulent boss, I am now going to share a bed with Miss. Jones; a very interesting prospect indeed.
When I saw her sitting in the bar, I was surprised but pleased. The few snippets of her conversations I have overheard in the elevator or getting coffee in the morning have proved entertaining, plus she has great legs.
She had been very clearly checking me out earlier, so I dumped the boss on the intern, (that’s why we have them, right?) and made my excuses to spend the evening with a far more attractive companion. Usually she wears a suit; tonight she is wearing some sort of sweater which clings in places sweaters ought to cling, a skirt and the kind of boots which come up to her knee. I love those boots.
After a few drinks, the crossword and some conversation, Miss Jones invites me up to her room. The offer isn’t exactly made out of the blue. We have been sitting fairly close for a while, close enough to smell her perfume. It’s a little bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Under the pretext of doing the crossword, we have also been playing a little footsie, with our knees, under the table.
Whenever the leather of her boots, rubs against my pant leg, it’s hard not to imagine what it would be like to have those long legs wrapped around me. The image is a nice one. She is a good looking woman; curvy, in a round, soft sort of a way.
The offer, when it comes, leaves me feeling flattered and more than a little surprised. I’m not used to women being so blunt.
“Where are you staying?” she asks.
“At the hotel across the street.” I tell her, hoping it isn’t true. I’m hoping I’ll be staying with her.
“Do you want to stay here with me?” The question is asked so casually, I can’t help but wonder if she cares one way or the other.
I watch her for a second looking for clues. “Maybe.”
My non-committal answer annoys her. A flash of impatience is clearly visible in her eyes causing me wonder briefly if it’s smart to bait a red head. Then she leans over and kisses me. Her lips are soft and I think it was probably very wise to bait this particular red head.
She stops kissing me all too soon, but makes up for it by whispering some of her “favorite things” in my ear. They say men are visual creatures; well every one of her favorite things conjured a very pleasing visual indeed.
Leaving me to my wild imaginings, she goes to do something, I have no idea what. I’m fixated on “favorite thing” number three. I can practically feel her warm hands on my….
Miss Jones returns, “So?” she asks.
“So…. I think we can go upstairs.” I tell her, my mind still occupied by visuals of favorite things.
Taking my hand, she leads the way to the elevator. Once inside she hits buttons and I feel the elevator smoothly start its ascent. I think how cool it would be to have an AreoSmith, Love in an Elevator moment but before I can suggest it, she takes hold of my belt buckle, pulling me towards her. Her hand is inches from my dick and it is inches too far.
She kisses me softly again, her hand still on my belt buckle. The other hand touches my face which is oddly sexy. I kiss her full lower lip, taking my time. If I play my cards right, this could play out into a full two day marathon of sex. She tastes like martini and something I can’t quite figure out; maybe chocolate or honey. Excitement and anticipation run through my body.
Her tongue works its way between my lips. I open them to let her explore. When she flicks her tongue into my mouth, I grab her ass, pulling her into me. My dick finally starts to pay attention to the fact we are about to get laid. It stirs in my pants as she pushes her hips into mine. I run my hands over her backside, down her thighs. If I am not mistaken, I feel the lace of stocking tops through the fabric of her skirt. My heart beats just a little faster. Who doesn’t love a woman in stockings?
The ding of the elevator stops me getting carried away; a reminder we are in public. Getting caught with my hand up her skirt isn’t how I want to start this evening. The doors open and we spring apart. Startled, she begins to laugh. It’s a good laugh, not a titter or giggle but a laugh. An older couple is waiting to get into the elevator, Miss Jones smiles at them as she passes, I wonder at the clarity of her mind when I am clearly unable to focus on anything but getting to see those stockings.
Her hotel room is fairly standard with nothing much worth noting, except for the size of the bed. Already four of five steps ahead of myself, I can see us rolling around on that bed, tangled up in a variety of interesting ways.
She closes the door; I think it’s about time I took control. It’s very nice having a woman take the lead every now and again but right now I want to put my hands on her. I want to slide them up under her sweater…
Miss Jones is a woman with a vivid, and some say lurid, imagination. A woman discovering the joys of her own body and those of her lovers.
These are her fantasies, her experiences, her thoughts on the subjects of sex, men and relationships. What do she look like? What is her hair color, her height, weight, cup size? None of that is important. What is important is how the story makes you feel, where the story takes you.
So, let her tell you a story. Are you sitting comfortably?
Then we shall begin. Once upon a time...
**All written materials featured on this blog are protected under copyright. Any use of part or all of this material without the express written permission of the author is an infringement of personal creative property and subject to legal action**