Have Pussy, Will Travel

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The muscular man in the armchair moaned softly, closing his eyes and letting his head loll against the plush chair’s headrest. That was a good sign, Sharon told herself, signifying his enjoyment. She wasn’t certain, but it seemed that he was harder, too, and longer.

Smiling, she gripped the clump of his balls in one hand, drawing her loose fist lightly up, along the shaft of his erection, and she felt him tremble. He groaned, his head turning left and right upon the headrest. When her hand reached the top of his shaft, she closed her fist more tightly about the thick organ, getting a chokehold, so to speak, on Drake’s rigid member. She pumped her hand up and down, vigorously, holding fast to the bloated shaft, and, this time, Drake squirmed.

She released his cock long enough to hold her palm over its purpling glans while touching the shaft with her fingertips, so that her hand formed a shape like an umbrella. She lowered and raised her cupped palm, letting her fingertips push and pull the tight skin up and down upon the straining shaft of his cock. Drake shifted in his seat, sliding his bare buttocks back across the leather upholstery, further aroused. His scrotum was red, instead of pink, as was his cock, the tip of which was a deep, ripe plum color.

Sharon reversed her hand, turning it 180 degrees. Gripping his cock, she yanked his prick up and down, hard, several times, causing Drake to grunt. He opened his eyes, surprised at the intensity of her actions, but closed them again, immediately, the better to focus, she suspected, upon the sensations that her touch caused him to experience.

Over the years, Sharon had learned a lot about masturbating guys. At home she’d masturbated both her father and her brothers (although separately, without any of them knowing she provided the same service for the others), and she’d avoided sucking dates’ uncircumcised cocks (a real turnoff, as far as she was concerned) more than once by substituting a hand job. Men were easy, really. The main thing was to tease them, bringing them near orgasm again and again, before, finally, letting them climax and shoot their loads.

When a man ejaculated after being teased in such a manner, she’d found, they always seemed to come longer and in greater quantities than they did if they were brought swiftly to their points of no return. She needed the position for which she’d applied. It would pay handsomely, making her wealthy beyond her dreams in only a few years, and it would take her to far, exotic places in the company of the rich and famous. To be offered the position, though, she’d have to do well at each of five auditions, beginning with this one, which meant, at the moment, pleasuring Drake.

Most women were merely perfunctory in masturbating men, Sharon knew. They weren’t really interested in holding, kissing, squeezing, and kneading a man’s genitals the way Sharon had learned to do–and to love doing. In sexual matters, most women hadn’t grown up in households in which their fathers and their brothers were also their teachers. To become good at masturbating men, a woman had to jerk off a lot of cocks and, equally as importantly, she had to love her work.

There was a bit of the feminine in every man, Sharon knew. Some guys would rather die than admit that they were “tainted” in such a way, as if femininity were a disease of some kind. Nevertheless, it was true. Even the most ripped, buff men–men like Drake–had female hormones in their bodies, just as the most demure and submissive woman had testosterone in her system, thanks to the pituitary gland. It was all merely a matter of how much of the opposite sex’s hormones a man or a woman harbored. Sharon liked men, but she had to admit that their sex would be improved, in her opinion, if they had a little more estrogen and a lot less testosterone in their systems.

Curling all of the fingers of her right hand back except the forefinger and the middle finger, Sharon poked these digits into Drake’s scrotum, between the ovals of his balls. She lifted her hand, jabbing the stiff fingers down, into the deep valley between his testicles, finger-fucking his scrotum as if it were a cunt. Drake squirmed on his chair, opening his eyes again to check out the action. His cock stiffened, swelling and thickening before Sharon’s bemused gaze.

It was obvious that he liked the strange sensations that her odd technique produced–or, perhaps, she thought, his enjoyment of being finger-fucked had more to do with psychological than physiological matters. Maybe Drake, despite his ruggedly handsome, virile appearance, was more in touch with his feminine side than most men were whom Sharon had known. The clear drop of pre-cum, or Cowper’s fluid, that glistened at the tip of the purple crown of Drake’s cock certainly suggested that he was enjoying being treated like a woman.

Perhaps, he was enjoying the technique too much, Sharon decided. Not wanting to lose him to orgasm so soon, she abandoned the technique in favor of adopting another masturbatory method, one she’d learned from her Uncle Thaddeus. Working his cock with her left hand, instead of her right, this time–switching hands could make it feel to man as if another, second person were masturbating him–she used her right hand to massage the root of his cock, which rose from behind his balls, along his perineum.

Although the bulb was not quite as sensitive as the external length of a man’s cock, (the shaft, the frenulum, and the glans), it was plenty sensitive enough, and the unexpectedness of her massaging this “hidden” part of his sex was often exciting enough in itself to make a guy cum. Drake grunted, gasped, and moaned as her fingers lightly pinched, kneaded, pressed, and stroked the cylindrical bulge between his thighs. As she rubbed him here, she occasionally spanked his balls lightly, enough to distress, without harming, him.

However, she didn’t give him time to get used to this approach any more than she’d given him time to become bored with any other technique. Holding the base of his cock in one hand, she masturbated him, fast and furiously, with the other, holding his prick at the extremity of its length, so that the strokes she delivered were concentrated mainly upon his glans. A second drop of Cowper’s fluid oozed up from Drakes’ prick.. To Sharon, it looked like a diamond that she’d mined from the depths of his masculinity.

Drake’s cock was definitely longer, thicker, and harder than it had been when Sharon had first started working him over. His current state was a testament, she thought, to her masturbatory skills. Her boyfriends–and the male members of her family–had taught her well, indeed.

Judging that she’d teased him long enough, Sharon decided to use the method she called the two-fisted approach to bring Drake to his climax. Grasping his prick, hand over hand, she jerked his cock, both hands operating in tandem. The twofold grip gave her almost complete control over most of the length of his monster-size member. She brought him close to release twice, and then continued to jerk him off, fast and hard, until he lost control, spurting his thick, warm, white seed in jets and banners that streaked across his belly, chest, and face, unfurling themselves in white ribbons that splattered against, and across, his flesh, so that we wore his own viscid semen. She wiped the sperm that had run down his prick onto her hand onto his thigh, and smiled up at him, as if to ask whether she would be hired.

“Thank you, Ms. Cade; that’s all” is all he said, though, in a raspy voice, peering down at her through half-lowered eyelids, as if he were a king and she a vile and worthless peasant. Now that he’d attained the nirvana of orgasm, his whole demeanor had changed. Before, when she’d had a useful service to offer, he’d been at least civil. Now, despite his “thank you” and his addressing her as “ms.,” he was aloof, even cold. Maybe, Sharon thought, that was part of the protocol for the auditions. Maybe he was merely being careful not to be too familiar.

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