Anne

[aimauanca]

The first day.

The first day of the month, and my first day at work, just happened to be a Friday, so I didn’t have much work to do, other than being processed by Human Resources, getting acquainted with my desk and PC, and reading a few company brochures.

I took some time to look at around at my new colleagues, and I was particularly intrigued by Anne, the pretty office secretary. She seemed a typical flirty twenty-three year-old, that in any ordinary office all the male staff would have been drooling over and joking with. Strangely, here I noticed that all my male colleagues treated her vary shyly, almost warily, whereas they were quite normal with the other girls, making quips and comments on the borderline between friendly office banter and sexual harassment.

Why Anne should get such respectful treatment was not at all clear, and to try to understand I spent more time than was necessary browsing brochures on the shelves just near her desk. It was because of this that I heard her say to a friend over the phone that she had nothing planned for the whole weekend, and was at quite a loss in finding something to do.

That gave me an idea, so I strolled across to her desk and asked if she had a map of the city, as I had only transferred here recently and want to get to know my way around. It turned out she knew the city well and so I took the opportunity to ask her out to lunch the next day so she could tell me more. Happily, she smiled sweetly and accepted, and wrote down the address of a restaurant where we could meet.

The Lunch Appointment.

I got to the restaurant early, but luckily I didn’t have to wait long as Anne arrived punctually. She was dressed to kill – a short flared skirt, a tight tee-shirt, and apparently no bra. Other people walking past stared at her – I saw one guy almost walk into a lamppost for not looking where he was going.

Anne led me inside and I discovered that it was really a self-service restaurant, the sort of place office workers go to for lunch on weekdays, but it was open Saturday too. We each took a tray and we both chose salads, mine chicken, hers tuna, and soft drinks – the place wasn’t licensed for alcohol. At the till, I paid for both of us, and received her sweet smile of gratitude.

The seating was organized in booths; in each booth there was a formica table and a bench going round, where two, three or even four people could sit together. Anne chose an empty booth that, once I had sat down, I noticed had a very particular characteristic. It was in a position such that its occupants, though quite visible to anyone walking through the restaurant, could not be seen by many people sitting in the other booths. In fact, there were so few customers that we were completely unobserved.

The meal got underway with some small-talk – “Are you comfortable?”, “How’s your salad?” and so on, but Anne broke the ice, dramatically, very soon – “I suppose my accepting you pay for lunch means you think I’m willing for you to get into my knickers?” she asked.

I choked on the piece of chicken that I was just swallowing. It was more or less the last food I ate for the rest of the lunch-date. “No, of course not” I spluttered, “it just seemed the gentlemanly thing to do”.

“Come off it,” she replied, “why can’t guys be honest about sex? You invited me out and paid for my lunch because you wanted to have sex with me. Be open about it, there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, as I’m free the whole weekend, as soon as we’ve finished up here, we can go back to my flat and have sex for the next 36 hours. If you think you’re up to it, of course … .”

While I stared at her, mouth agape, probably with lettuce still clinging to my teeth, she went on. “I don’t know why people can’t be more honest about sex. You want it? Then ask for it. Sex is wonderful. I love to have sex, in many different ways, and I love its different phases. You start with the planning phase, when you decide the ‘who’, the ‘where’, the ‘when’ and the ‘how’. Then there’s the anticipation, the waiting for the plan to put in effect, the fantasizing on how you’re going to do it, and how often too. I love that phase, and it makes me so wet that sometimes I need to touch myself because I can’t wait for the actual sex to happen. Then there’s the sex phase – the penetration, the grinding, the sucking, the licking, or whatever is involved. And then there’s the orgasm – the intense peak, ‘la petite mort’, and I have great orgasms, and I like to have a lot of them too.”

All this time, Anne had been eating while she spoke, while I was completely immobile, my knife and fork poised over my food, while I stared across the table. Anne’s gaze had been concentrated on her food, and only now she looked at me, and then used her napkin to clean some dribble that was running down my chin. Then she went on.

“What’s great about sex is that there are so many ways to do it, and I like them all. Well, almost all. I love penetration – and enormous hard cock that stretches my cunt wide and plunges deep inside. But not in the missionary position, and not doggy-style either. In those positions the man’s just using me as a fuck object – something tight and wet that’ll make him shoot. No, I like to be on top, sitting over the guy; that way I decide the pace and it’s more like I’m using him as a fuck object. Also, it’s a more hands-free position, so he can caress my breasts, my nipples, my buttocks – all things he’d have more difficulty with if he was fucking me from on top.

“Then there’s oral. I do great blowjobs. I can deep-throat an enormous penis and lick the guy’s balls too.”
I continued staring. She went on.

“Some say that a blowjob is degrading for the girl, but I don’t agree. It puts her in control, while the man looks on and prays for her make him cum, as all men well know that the most intense orgasms are in a girl’s mouth.

“Then there’s cunnilingus. I’ll always have a man lick me. I don’t care from what angle – above, below, kneeling, laid down – I just love to feel a guy’s tongue licking me, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes just my clit, sometimes my whole pussy. Then when I cum I’ll almost break his head in two as my thighs grip him like a vice. I scream too, and the whole neighborhood will hear, especially if the window’s open, but I don’t care. I love to cum and I don’t care who knows it.”

I was still motionless, and my prick was getting harder all the time. There seemed to be no end to her prattling on and on about sex.

“And then there’s masturbation. I love that too. For instance, if I’m at home, and in the anticipation phase I told you about before, waiting to have sex later on with some guy (or girl for that matter), I’ll lie completely naked on my bed and masturbate. First I’ll fantasize about what I’m going to be doing, and then, when I start getting excited, I’ll caress my body as if someone else was doing it to me. I’ll start with my breasts, working round and then circling inwards towards my nipples. They’ll be hard by now and I’ll brush them ever so lightly with my fingertips. Then with just one hand I’ll start caressing first my stomach, then my thighs, and finally I’ll move in to my pussy. With just one finger I’ll push open the lips and feel the sticky moisture. Then, soft as a feather, I’ll pass that finger up and down, up and down my whole pussy until I can take it no more. Then I’ll alternate between frigging my clit and shoving fingers into my cunt, while with the other hand I tweak and pull and rub my nipples till they’re sore. And then I’ll cum, and my whole body will twist and shudder, and I’ll scream out ‘Jesus, fuck’ until the old lady next door bangs on the wall and threatens to call the police.”

There was no stopping her.

“Sometimes I’ll use a vibrator too. I’ve got a whole collection of those. I’ll show you this afternoon. Do you wank?”

She look across and waited for an answer. Of course I wanked – who doesn’t – but it wasn’t the sort of thing you talked about on a first date. On the other hand, nothing so far had been like a first date. Anne was obviously not the prudish type that would object to me wanking, not after what she had just said in her long treatise on sex, but still, I didn’t want to give the idea I was an addicted wanker who took to his hand because he couldn’t pull a girl.

“Well, just occasionally” I mumbled my first words since lunch started.

“How?” she asked.

“How?”

“Yes – how do you wank?”

I could feel my face burning and my prick twitching, but the way she asked me didn’t make me feel I could avoid the question.

“Well” I started, “I’ll choose a porn film that I’ve downloaded and I’ll watch that. Then when I’m really hard, I’ll stroke myself until I cum into a paper hanky.”

“Is that it? Film, wank, cum?”

“Well, of course if it’s not too late, maybe I’ll do it again, after a suitable rest period.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by “Is that it?” but I didn’t want to give the idea that I was only good for one shot.

“No” she explained, “I mean, that’s all you do – stroke till you come? You’re missing out on a whole load of possibilities. You should try to make it last. The first point is to stroke slowly – so slowly that it seems frustrating. I bet you beat your meat so fast your hand seems a blur. The next point is self-awareness – you have to recognize that you’re arriving at the point of no return, the point at which, if you make just one more stroke, then you’re just going to have to cum. That point is the edge, and the trick is to stop just as you reach that point. Then you stop, let your prick calm down a bit, then start stroking again. You can repeat this over and over, stopping at each edge, and then starting again after a little while. Then you should set yourself a goal – maybe edge 50 times, or for the whole length of the film. Once you’ve reached your goal, you wank like crazy and you cum like you never came before.

“Now there’s two ways of doing this” she went on, “the slow way and the fast way. The slow way you let your prick calm right down, taking a few minutes rest after each edge. That way you’ll need a whole lot more stroking to get close again. You can even set yourself the goal of getting semi-soft before resuming. The fast way is more dangerous. The fast way you wait maybe only 10 or 20 seconds before starting stroking again after each edge. This way it’ll take only a few strokes to be back to the edge again and in need of a new rest. The danger is you’ll misjudge it. It just takes one half stroke too much and you’ll be over the edge and past the point of no return. Then cumming is inevitable.

“But if you do it right, you’ll make your masturbation last a lot longer, and the orgasm will be far greater.

“As I said, for you to do it to yourself, you need to grow in self-awareness, and learn to feel that the edge is approaching. Doing it to someone else is more difficult, but I have learned to recognize some small signals in the movements of the muscles in and around a man’s cock to be able to know just when he’s really close and I need to stop. Once, with a friend of mine, Cindy, we masturbated a guy the ‘fast way’ for almost two hours.

“I remember that time well,“ she continued. “We were all naked on my double bed, fooling around before getting into serious sex. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but Cindy and I had planned it all beforehand. At a given signal we each maneuvered one of his arms to a corner of the bed and before he understood what was going on, we had his wrists fastened in Velcro cuffs attached to the bedposts. Now he was helpless, but we tied his ankles too, with his legs spread well out, so that he couldn’t move hardly at all. Then came the oral phase – I slowly deep-throated his throbbing prick while Cindy sat on his face and had him lick her to orgasm. Then we switched round so I was being satisfied while Cindy sucked him inside her wet mouth. We continued this till Cindy and I had come twice each, but all the time we sucked him just slowly enough to keep him close but just not close enough.

“Then came the manual phase. We took turns to wank him the fast way. In turn, each of us would wank him quickly to the edge, and then the other would wait a few seconds before wanking him again. We were both expert in reading the signs of oncoming orgasm, so we were both able to get him close to cumming without going over the edge. This went on for two hours because we organized it as a game. The one who misjudged and made him cum would lose, and a dire destiny awaited the loser, involving butt-plugs, nipple-clamps and ceiling hooks.

“The guy was going crazy. We had to gag him to not hear his pleading, as it’s very off-putting to hear a man whimper. We had it down to a fine art. We had cut the interval time down to five seconds, and then the wanking started again. It took only 2 or 3 strokes to get him back to the edge, and then another pause. His hips kept thrusting but when our hands were off he was humping air. Finally Cindy blew it – she gave just one stroke too much, and we could both see he was going to cum. At that point Cindy grabbed him hard and wanked him like he’d never been wanked before. His cum shot high in the air, in spurt after spurt, and fell on me, on Cindy, on our hair and on our bodies. The guy was totally exhausted, and wasn’t good for anything the rest of the day.”

The Gift

She looked across at me. “So now you know how to wank next time. Think of me while you’re doing it. But back now to serious matters. Do you want to have sex with me for the next 36 hours?”

“God, yes” I replied. If I didn’t have sex soon, my prick was going to explode in my underpants there and then. It was hard as a rock and leaking precum everywhere.

“Then we must exchange symbolic gifts, so that we each declare the pact that we are entering into, to have sex with each other for 36 hours, with the goal of giving, and obtaining, the maximum of satisfaction humanly possible in that time.”

She then glanced around the restaurant to check no-one could see, and then, raising herself slightly from the bench, she slipped her hands under her skirt and pulled down her thong knickers. Then she slipped them over her feet, held them up so that I could see them well, and then pushed them into my trouser pocket.

“Now to complete the pact, you must do the same.”

“I can’t” I exclaimed. “To take off my underpants, I need to take off my shoes and trousers! Someone will see me!”

“No, silly, of course you can’t do that. Go to the men’s-room, and bring me back your underpants. Then the pact is complete, we can finish eating, and then go to my flat for the rest of the weekend.”

I adjusted the position of my prick in my trousers, so as to make the bulge as discreet as possible, and made my way to the men’s room. There I locked myself in a cubicle and stripped. My prick was sticky with precum and I wiped dry with toilet paper. I got dressed again, minus the damp underpants, and discovered that without them, my prick made an even more obvious bulge in the front of my trousers. I’m a 90-degree guy – it sticks horizontally straight out in front. For that reason I had to stay in the cubicle a few minutes, trying desperately to think about my grandmother so that my prick would calm down. I then returned to our table, with my underpants rolled up in a ball gripped in one hand. As I sat, I passed the ball to Anne, who, instead of discretely slipping them into her handbag as I had hoped, opened them out to see, smirked at the dampness, and only then put them away.

Before she started prattling again about sex, I explained that we needed to change the subject. Hearing her talk about sex caused my erection, I explained, and if she carried on, without my underpants to contain my prick, I’d never be able to stand up from the table and walk out onto the street.

I had wasted my breath. Now she started telling me how she planned to spend the weekend.

“I figure we could start making out on the couch, ‘heavy-petting’ as the adolescents call it. Remember I have no knickers on, so you’ll be pushing your hand under my skirt pretty quickly, and if you pull up my tee-shirt you’ll be able to suck on my tits, and that really turns me on. When I’m close to cumming I’ll push you off and lead you to the bedroom. There I’ll lie you down, open your trouser zip with just my teeth, pull your prick out with just my mouth, and then I’ll mount you and fuck you, while we’re still fully clothed. After that we’ll pass the afternoon just vanilla fucking and sucking. Don’t worry if there are times you can’t perform – I know you men have their limits – but in those moments I’ll sit on your face and have you lick me. I can keep on cumming the whole afternoon.

“Later we’ll take a light dinner, and then we can sit on the couch and watch a porno DVD and masturbate each other. Then back to the bedroom to try some of the positions we saw on the DVD, until we’re both completely fucked out.

“Sunday morning, we could try out a little bondage. I have a whole range of toys that I’d like to try out. You don’t need to look so worried, I’m not into pain, but I am into restraint, stimulation, teasing, frustration, and maybe even the occasional forced orgasm, maybe one or two more than you’d really want.”

All this time my prick was standing out as a tent-post in my trousers, and a wet stain was forming from all the precum that was oozing out. Again I pleaded with her to change the subject but to no avail.

“After lunch I’ve asked my friend Cindy (remember her) so stop by, so we could have a nice threesome together. You’ll be pretty tired by then, but I’m sure watching us having lesbian sex on the bed in front of you will soon pick you up. Then you’ll be able to fuck one pussy, then the other, than back to the first. You’ll be able to feel like what it is to have two mouths sliding the length of your cock. Also, Cindy has bigger tits than mine, so you can have a tit-fuck. You’ll sit on her chest, she’ll squeeze her tits together tight, and then you can fuck them until you make her a nice pearl-necklace.

“If you like, when Cindy’s least expecting it, we’ll tie her spread-eagle to the bed and have some real fun. I’ll sit on her face and have her lick me forever, and if she ever stops I’ll pull at her nipple clamps to remind her. At the same time you can fuck her as often as you please, and when you’re ‘between jobs’ you can apply an enormous vibrator to her clit and deep inside her pussy, so that by the time we’ve finished she’ll be so wide open you could drive a Hummer through.”

The Torture

Anne had finished eating. “So, thanks again for lunch. Shall we be off now?”

I looked at her desperately. “We can’t go now! My prick’s sticking out like a tent-pole! You keep talking about sex, I’ve got no underpants on, and this is the result. I told, you’ve got to change the subject, or I’ll never be able to stand up and leave the restaurant!”

“Well that would be a shame, because I’m really hot to have sex with you at least 20 times this weekend.”
Again she glanced round the room, before slipping her hand under her skirt, and then rubbing her wetness across my lips. “Can you feel I’m ready to fuck? Can you taste it?”

I moaned in frustration, and pleaded again with her to stop. Instead she slid round the bench towards me and reached under the table to squeeze the head of my prick in her fingers. My whole body shuddered. Then the torture started. Through the damp patch in my trousers, she started to rub the head of my prick, very, very slowly.

“God, no, please, no” I begged her, “you’ll make me cum and there’ll be an even bigger stain on my trousers.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t cum. I’ll not take you that far – yet. I want all the cumming to be done in my flat, in my pussy, or in my mouth. No, I’ll just keep you very excited, so that you’ll want all the more to come and have 36 long hours of sex with me. And don’t worry about your performance – I crumbled enough Viagra into your orange juice to last you a whole week!”

All the time she kept sliding just one finger along the fabric of my trousers just at that sensitive point under the head of my prick. The wetness of the precum made the sensation intense and the frustration was unbearable.

Suddenly she stopped and stood up from the table. “Okay, let’s go fuck” she said.

“But I can’t! I told you! If I stand up and leave now, everyone will see my prick sticking straight out in front of me. Even if I make it to the street, I’ll be arrested as soon as I set foot on the pavement!”

“I’m sorry, but we made a pact. You agreed to having sex with me for 36 hours. We sealed the pact with gifts. Do you want sex with me or not?”

“Yes, of course I do” I cried, almost sobbing. “But I can’t stand up in this condition!” But maybe there was still a chance! “Please, give me back my underpants! Maybe I can get to the men’s room, and put them on, then with them to restrain my prick, I can just about get out of here!”

“Absolutely not! They were a gift to seal the pact. If I returned the gift, there would be no pact, and hence no sex. If you were a real man you would control your feeble erection, stand up and leave with me. I give you one last chance. Come with me immediately, and then you can cum with me, in me, on me, over me or under me. Stay here one more minute, and none of the above.”

So I had one minute to decide. Walk outside with an enormous and obvious erection and risk being arrested for indecent behavior in public, or sit here and miss out on 36 hours of sex with the hottest turn-on you ever saw.

What would you have done?

[ThomasKu]

Great story!
Do you really get arrested that quickly? Even when you're along with a girl, maybe even hugging and kissing along the way?
Well, anyway there would still be two options: Bend up your cock to your stomach, so there wouldn't be a bulge in your trousers any more. Or you could just put on HER knickers...

[aimauanca]

"Or you could just put on HER knickers..."
You're right - I hadn't thought of that!

[camel]

Very nice!

There is a "moth to flame" aspect that I love... it's obvious he's getting in over his head, she's a freak who's feared by other guys who know better fear, and she crushed viagra into his drink, but she's structured it so that even a trip to her apartment keeps him aroused and off balance.

[wonderbo]

Great setup! I loved the semi-public scenario with her verbally setting up a scenario he really doesn't want to follow through with, but has a hard time saying no. I loved it!

[aimauanca]

by the way, anyone know a (free) video where a girl wanks a guy through his trousers, so that the cum-shot is just seeing the stain spreading?
thanks

[SexualChoc]

I am not sure I see the dilema
I mean, he is still wearing pants?
It's not like he HAS to go out with his dick hanging out.

With tight pants you simply slightly tuck to the left side of your body
Having an errection in your pants- I don't think- will get your arrested
Only public nudity would. It may be embarassing but I don't think it's illegal.

Loose pants are actually more difficult
pull them up tightly against your balls
and with your non-dominant hand gather fabric from the middle/ pocket area
and pull it tight so you can 'tuck' like above.

Basicly it's the same for when I am hiding my chastity belt
which gives me a bulge

[fah0436]

Pretty sure virginia indecency laws include a visible erection - whether through clothes or not.
So technically if a cop sees you like that he could arrest you!

But by that time, if it were me at least, the evidence would be gone - unless a cop took a picture first.

A website I frequent talks a lot about public nudity and exhibitionism. Bottom line, i would be pretty hard to even get arrested for that, far less convicted. Most people think its funny and won't complain or make a fuss. Unless you're stupid and do it intentionally in front of kids.

[ripple68]

great story