textfiles/sex/EROTICA/N/negot8-1.txt

Archive-name: 3plus/negot8-1.txt
Archive-author: Doctor Z
Archive-title: Contract Negotiations


     I'm a freelance consultant in the area of computer software
     development.  Call me Al.  I normally work for large
     corporations on a contract basis for a few months per stint.  I
     recently moved to New York from the San Francisco area, and
     since I was starting in a new city where I had no business
     contacts, I was forced make use of contract placement
     companies, also known as "headhunter agencies".  These are
     middlemen who try to get contracts for people like me in return
     for a cut of the money.  They way this works is that after the
     agency gets me a interview that results in a job, I sign up as
     an employee of the agency, who then bills me out at a higher
     rate to the company where I actually work.  It's a sleazy
     business, but without more contacts here I have to work this
     way.

     I got my current contract through a smallish agency.  While
     working on this contract, another agency called me about
     another position that was somewhat more lucrative.  After
     interviewing at the new company, I was offered a contract.
     Now, my existing contract was a typical one in that it was
     open-ended and could be terminated by either party with
     two-weeks' notice, so, barring any major pay raise from my
     current job, I planned to quit my old job and accept the new
     one.  In keeping with my usual policy in these cases, I told
     the new company I'd sleep on the decision and get back to them
     the next day.

     I then left and called the headhunter agency that currently
     represented me to inform them that I probably was going to take
     the other job.  The headhunter there tried to persuade me to
     stay at my current position.  My early termination would mean a
     loss of revenue for the agency, so her reaction was
     predictable.

     However, I told her that barring an increase in my billing
     rate, I was going to take the new job.  With that she put me on
     hold, and when she came back, she explained that the agency
     couldn't get any more money from the company I was working at,
     but that Rachael, the owner of the agency, would be willing to
     take less of a markup and give me a raise rather than lose the
     contract altogether.  When I asked how much of a markup, the
     headhunter said that Rachael wanted to discuss that with me
     personally.  When I explained that I was going to make my
     decision by early the next day, the headhunter put me on hold
     again and when she got back on she said that Rachael would be
     glad to talk to me later that day, if I could make it after
     work.

     I was willing to do that, and so we set up the meeting between
     Rachael and me 6:00 PM that evening.  Although I'd never
     actually met Rachael, I had spoken to her on the phone a few
     times and remembered her as being businesslike, professional,
     and most important, reasonable.  I was hoping I could get
     enough money out of her to make it worth my while to stay at
     this job, since the new position, though more lucrative, was
     less interesting.  I would never admit that to Rachael, of
     course.

     It was Friday evening, and by the time I was able to show up at
     the agency the door was locked and everyone who worked there
     was gone except Mary the receptionist who let me in when I
     knocked and, presumably, Rachael.

     Now, I was familiar with Mary from all the times I had come by
     to pick up my paycheck.  She was in her early twenties and
     quite attractive, with shoulder-length, stylish blonde hair and
     a very sexy, slim body.  She was about 5 foot 2 or 3 and had
     firm, perfectly sized breasts -- not too large and not too
     small.  She was outgoing and flirtatious, and every time I saw
     her she was wearing very stylish and somewhat revealing
     clothes.

     That day she was wearing a silky, button-down blouse with the
     neckline open low enough to show off a hint of her gorgeous
     cleavage.  Her bra was either quite sheer or non-existent, as I
     could make out the contours of her breasts and nipples through
     her blouse.  She had on a calf-length skirt with a slit halfway
     up her thigh.  It was really tight around her hips and ass and
     was thin enough for me to faintly glimpse her skimpy, dark
     bikini panties underneath.  She had on a pair of high heels
     and, as always, wore little or no makeup.  She looked even
     sexier than usual, which is saying a lot.  As I often did, I
     wondered how she got away dressing that way in an office
     environment.

     Mary buzzed Rachael to tell her I had arrived, and when she got
     off the phone she said that Rachael was on an important phone
     call hoped it would be OK for me to wait 20 or 30 minutes.  I
     said it was, and Mary said that Rachael wanted me to know that
     she really appreciated me coming by and told Mary to do
     whatever she could to make me comfortable.

     She asked if I wanted coffee or soda or anything, but I thanked
     her and said I really didn't need anything.  She smiled and
     raised an eyebrow when I said that.  I ignored that and told
     her that since it was late she didn't have to stay on my
     account.  She thanked me quite nicely but said that she had to
     stay late anyway and work.  I made a sympathetic comment about
     Mary's bad luck at having to work late on a Friday, and this
     led to us making small talk for a few minutes.

     On previous visits I often found myself staring at her sexy
     body.  I'd always try to be discreet, but sometimes she would
     still catch me staring, to which she'd react with a coquettish
     smile.  As we sat there chatting she once again caught me
     staring at her, but this time she raised her eyebrows, licked
     her lips, and languidly turned towards me, slowly pushing her
     chest out as she did.  Although her movements were subtle and
     ambiguous enough for her to deny if confronted, this was still
     more flirty than she ever was with me in the past, and I choked
     on my words for a moment in surprise and arousal.  She just
     laughed sexily and then resumed talking to me as if nothing had
     happened.

     Now, this both turned me on and made me nervous, and I tried to
     hide my confusion and arousal as we spoke.  I doubt I did a
     very good job of it, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

     After a few minutes of our idle chatter I had more or less
     calmed down again.  Mary finally gave me a fake-sad look and
     said in a deliberately childish, pouty tone of voice that she
     had to get back to work.  As she walked back to her desk, I
     could see her perfect ass straining sexily against the material
     of her tight skirt as she unabashedly swayed her hips.  I'd
     never seen her do that in my presence before, either, but then
     again, I couldn't remember if I had ever seen her doing
     anything other than sitting at her desk.

     Dismissing her sexy antics as insincere, immature flirtation, I
     plopped down on the couch in the reception area to find
     something to read.  This didn't prevent me from continuing to
     stare at her ass until she sat down, however.  The exagerated
     way she moved her hips was turning me on, and I decided to
     enjoy it while I could -- i.e., while her back was turned.

     Despite my intention to not take Mary too seriously, I couldn't
     help but wonder if perhaps she _was_ trying to get my sexual
     attention.  For a moment, my mind drifted off into a fantasy of
     her slowly stripping for me as I watched from my vantage point
     on the couch.

     But then I sobered up and reminded myself that she probably had
     dozens of boyfriends and there was no way she'd ever consider a
     37-year-old, slightly flabby, balding guy like me.  I thought
     back to what life was like when I was her age, and I had to
     admit to myself that I'm too shy and nervous around women to
     ever have stood a chance with someone like her even back then.
     A woman as attractive as her could easily afford to be as picky
     as she wanted, and I'm sure she'd have no time for my
     insecurities and shyness.  I sighed and forced myself to stop
     thinking those grim thoughts and to just enjoy her flirting and
     her sexy body while I had the chance.

     And I was getting ample opportunity for that right then.  I
     guess she didn't have to man the phones after hours, and
     instead of sitting at the recetionist's desk she was working at
     one of the headhunters' desks typing on the word processor.
     From my seat in the reception area I had a really nice view of
     her profile as she sat there and worked.  I took advantage of
     the view whenever I thought she wasn't looking.

     Although she was quite a sight, I didn't want to appear too
     lecherous by just staring, so I looked around among the
     magazines nearby and tried to find something worth reading.
     The pickings were rather disappointing, and I was trying to
     figure out which of "Business Week" and "Forbes" would be less
     boring, when suddenly Mary piped in with, "If you want
     something more interesting you can read my 'Cosmopolitan'".

     I laughed and said, "I'm not sure if that would be an
     improvement over this shit."

     She gave me another of her flirty looks and replied, "Oh, c'mon
     now, Al.  Do you mean to say that you'd rather read about the
     stock market than to look at the sexy women in Cosmo?"

     Her comment caught me off guard -- she sure was being flirty.
     Covering up my surprise and embarrassment I answered, "Oh --
     you mean in the ads?  I must admit that I have a hard time
     thinking of a woman as sexy when she's blatantly advertising
     clothes or perfume -- or any product for that matter.  It sort
     of detracts from the whole thing, you know?"

     I was proud of myself for hiding my surprise so well with my
     somewhat glib, and actually quite honest reply, but my pride
     was short lived, as Mary quickly flabbergasted me with her
     reply: "Oh.  I guess I know what you mean.  So how about if I
     go downstairs to the newsstand and get you a 'Penthouse'?
     Those women aren't advertising anything ..."  her smile became
     devilish, "... and besides, they're naked.  I think you'd like
     that a lot better."

     I felt a wave of arousal and surprise.  Although she's a flirt
     and a tease, this was a bit much even for her ... at least
     compared to anything I'd seen her do in the past.  The only
     thing I managed to stammer was "Well ..."  before she turned
     towards me.  She lifted her hands to her blouse as if she was
     about to unbutton it, and she said, "Or do you prefer the real
     thing?  I'm not wearing a bra."  She paused, raising her
     eyebrows, and looked at me with an intensely serious and
     provocative expression and with her hands poised ready to open
     her blouse for me.  She kept that pose and just stared at me as
     wave of anxiety and arousal swept through me.

     I was speechless and must have looked like an idiot with my
     mouth hanging open.  After a few seconds that seemed an
     eternity, she slowly lowered her hands, and still staring at me
     intently, she said, "I'll get you a 'Penthouse'," and got up.

     I shook my head disbelievingly and stammered to her to sit back
     down, but before I could stop her she had sashayed out the
     door, her hips swinging even more blatantly and seductively
     than before.

     I was dumbfounded.  What was going on?  Why was she acting this
     way?  Mary was getting me sexually excited, but I was also
     getting nervous and scared.  I'm quite insecure about sex and I
     always feared beautiful women -- they always seemed to be so
     confident and so sure of their abilities to get men to do what
     they want.  And I have always been especially vulnerable to
     that sort of manipulation due to my sexual insecurities and low
     self-esteem.  What did she want, anyway?  I couldn't imagine
     she would want to be this sexual with me just for her own
     pleasure, and I tried to figure out what might be her ulterior
     motive.

     Could it be that she was working in cahoots with Rachael and
     was somehow trying to seduce me to stay with the agency?  That
     seemed likely, but I couldn't imagine what Mary would get out
     of it.  With Rachael, it was obvious: as the owner of the
     company she would profit from my staying on and continuing to
     generate her percentage of my take.  But what about Mary and
     her paltry receptionist's salary?  Did Rachael offer Mary a
     commission to persuade me to stay?  If so, did she tell her to
     use sex?  Or did she just ask Mary to be charming and is this
     all Mary's idea?

     I figured it was likely that Mary _was_ doing this for the
     agency for some sort of compensation -- probably monetary.  I
     got more than a little bit angry at Mary's manipulation, and I
     decided to give her a piece of my mind when she came back, and
     I started rehearsing what I was going to say to her.  But as I
     did, I began to have second thoughts.  Mary had turned me on a
     lot and part of me -- a _big_ part of me, I grudgingly admitted
     to myself -- wanted more.  I became quite scared as I realized
     how much I wanted her to continue with her manipulative
     seduction despite the fact that it may not necessarily be in my
     best interests.

     I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to let her
     get away with this, but my heart wasn't in it and I finally
     gave up fighting myself.  I decided to just let whatever
     happens, happen.  After all, even if I decided to stay on at
     this agency for my current salary, I still was doing just fine
     financially.  And besides, I knew I wouldn't give up the new
     job just for some cheap flirting -- Mary was going to have work
     for her money.  I at least had enough self-control to hold out
     for that ... or at least I hoped so.

     So I began to get excited about playing hard to get and seeing
     how far Mary would go, and I tried to imagine what might
     transpire once she returned.  But then I had another thought:
     what if she was just going to give me the magazine and then go
     back to work?  What if I was assuming too much about her?
     Maybe she really _was_ trying to be friendly and that was it.
     After all, Rachael _did_ tell her to make me comfortable, and
     perhaps the flirting and the 'Penthouse' were simply a product
     of Mary's overzealous desire to be helpful.

     Or worse yet for me, what if Mary was indeed trying to seduce
     me, but suppose she just gave me the magazine and then waited
     for me to make the next move.  Most men would catch the hint
     and be all over her, but I'm so damn shy and insecure that I'd
     never have enough guts to try anything with her -- even with a
     lot of encouragement.  Making a pass at a woman is the most
     terrifying thing I can imagine.  A psychologist would probably
     say its a phobia with me, as is anything involving my being
     sexually agressive and taking those kinds of risks.  And so I
     feared that if she wasn't extremely aggressive, and I thought
     it quite unlikely that she would be, I would sit there like an
     idiot like I usually do in these situations and blow the whole
     thing.

     So instead of being happy with anticipation and looking forward
     to playing hard to get, my mood deteriorated to one of despair
     and helplessness.  This always seemed to happen with me when I
     had a chance to make it with a woman, and I cursed myself for
     being so neurotic.

     I no longer wanted to be seduced.  I felt so confused and out
     of control that I didn't think I could resist her charms and
     act in my own best interests any more.  I feared succumbing to
     whatever it was that she might offer me, and then agree with
     Rachael to terms decidedly to my disadvantage.  I felt naked
     and scared.  In the back of my mind I realized this was
     illogical, but my fear was so strong and I felt so vulnerable
     that I couldn't make logic prevail.  In a state of near panic I
     vowed to resist everything Mary might do.

     Just then the door opened and Mary flounced back in.  She made
     a point of locking the door behind her and winking at me, and
     then she plopped down on the couch next to me.  She gave me a
     lewd smile and started slowly reaching into a bag she had with
     her.  But before she got very far, I blurted out in panic,
     "Wait, Mary, wait."

     She stopped reaching for the bag and slowly lowered her hands
     to her lap and gave me a questioning look.  She stared at me
     patiently while I struggled with myself.  She didn't seem the
     slightest bit upset or even surprised at my obvious anxiety.
     Finally, under the pressure of her stare I started talking,
     trying to get her to stop flirting with me: "OK, Mary, uh, look
     ..."

     "Yeah?" she queried with a friendly smile.

     I was getting more and more confused and panicked.  All I had
     to do was to become cool, thank her for the magazine, and then
     ignore her.  But that sort of thing takes composure and at
     least some strength and confidence.  I had none of those right
     then, and so I just helplessly pleaded, "Like, uh, why, Mary?
     Uh, why are you doing this?"

     She looked innocently surprised and asked, "'Why'?  I'm not
     sure I know what you're asking.  Why did I get you the
     magazine?"

     "Well, uh ... yeah ... I want to know that, but also ..." it
     was hard to get to the point -- I didn't know how to say I
     suspected her of trying to seduce me.  What if I was wrong --
     what a fool I'd feel like then.  So I lamely continued my
     question: "... I mean, why are you ... are you, you know ...
     being this way with me?"

     "Well first," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation, "I
     got you the magazine because I thought you'd like it ..."
     ('Like hell!' I thought suspiciously.  'You got it to seduce
     me.  And cut out the fake innocence.'  But I didn't have enough
     guts to actually say anything like that to her) "... but I'm
     still not sure about your other question," she was saying.
     "Are you asking why I'm being nice to you?"

     She seemed a little hurt, but I didn't believe it.  I wanted to
     say, "No.  I'm asking why you're being such a slut with me.
     Did Rachael put you up to it?  How much is she giving you for
     this?"  But instead, all I could get up enough courage to say
     was, "Well ... yeah ..." I was whining "... I mean, you've
     never been this ... this nice to me before and ... and, well,
     I'm a little surprised and ... and, well, I guess I'm just
     wondering why."

     Never missing a beat she replied, "I want you to enjoy
     yourself, Al."  She lowered her voice and gave me a provocative
     look and continued, "I'm just trying to help."

     I suddenly noticed that despite my panic and anger, she was
     starting to turn me on.  She looked so sexy there right in
     front of me, and her flirty moves were having their effect.
     But I forced myself to ignore that and snapped back
     sarcastically, "Right.  And this is just all out of your
     altruistic love for your fellow man."

     She was totally unfazed by my anger and her demeanor became
     more serious, although no less provocative.  She calmly
     answered, "Not really.  I'm not a self-sacrificing person and I
     don't do things that aren't in my own best interest."

     I had thought so!  Her true nature just came through: tough and
     self-serving.  I no longer doubted she was in cahoots with
     Rachael.  "So what _is_ your interest here?" I snapped back.
     "Surely it's not because you want ... you want ..."  I started
     choking on my words, because I couldn't bring myself to say
     "want my body", even in the negative context I was trying to
     use it.  That's how deep my phobia about making sexual advances
     is.

     She kept her serious, provocative gaze on me and interrupted,
     "It doesn't matter what I want -- what's important right now is
     what _you_ want."

     Damn it, she was a pro!  I was ambivalent, caught between
     wanting to get out of there and wanting to stay and get swept
     up in Mary's apparent seduction.  If we started focusing on
     what _I_ want, she'd use my ambivalence to twist me around her
     little finger.

     I felt desperate to get off of the subject of what I want and
     said, "But Mary, it _does_ matter what you want, because ..."

     She interrupted again.  "No, it doesn't matter.  I'm _very_
     capable of taking care of myself and of getting what I want.
     You needn't be concerned about that.  All you should think
     about is what _you_ want ..."

     I felt weak and powerless, and I didn't know what to do next.
     I was actually trembling with fear and I'm sure she saw it.  My
     panic increased.

     Mary had only paused a second and then went on, "... and I know
     what you want, Al."  She stared into my eyes for a moment and
     she no doubt saw me weaken.  I felt a wave of despair as she
     said, "You want to see some pictures of naked women," and a
     wave of sexual arousal went through me.  Her expression told me
     that she knew then that I would stay for anything she had to
     dish out.  So much for my vow to resist her.

     She shifted her position on the couch next to me -- she got up
     on her knees and then sat on her calves facing me.  Her skirt
     was bunched up a little bit and it rode up an inch or two above
     her knees.  She reached into the bag, bringing out a 'Club'
     magazine and said, "I thought you'd like this better than
     'Penthouse'."  She tossed it on my lap, saying, "It's much
     sexier."

     I had to admit to myself that she knew what she was talking
     about.  I'd spent many an hour masturbating to the pictures and
     pornographic stories in 'Club'.  This masturbation of mine was
     quite private and quite intense: I would get lost in hot
     fantasies, sometimes for hours while teasing and stroking my
     cock, balls, and body.  I felt quite vulnerable and was
     terrified at the prospect of her finding out how much I loved
     to play with myself that way.  I was glad Mary had tossed the
     magazine on my lap, since I wanted to make sure she couldn't
     see the hard-on that was beginning to rise in my pants.

     On the cover of the magazine was a very sexy, shapely blonde
     woman wearing only a G-string.  Her palms covered the fronts of
     her bare breasts, but only enough to hide her nipples and not
     much more.  The crotch of the G-string was a small, frilly,
     black triangle that barely covered her pussy.  This photo
     turned me on quite a bit, and I made a mental note to get a
     copy of this issue to take back home with me that night.

     Speaking slowly, softly, and deliberately, Mary said, "She
     turns you on, doesn't she?"

     She startled me and I jumped in my seat.  Reflexively I said
     no, but Mary just looked at me like she knew I was lying.  Her
     gaze was strong and unwavering and I broke down and stammered,
     "Well, yeah, I like her."

     "So lets have a sexual fantasy with her, Al."

     I was flabbergasted and I looked up at her with pleading
     confusion in my eyes.

     "Come on, Al," she shrugged with mock non-chalance, "it'll be
     fun."

     I was terrified.  "Well ... I, uh ... I don't know ... maybe I
     shouldn't ..."

     She ignored my protests.  "I love sexual fantasy," she said
     cheerfully and with more wholesome-sounding naivete than I
     could believe.  "Come on, Al, let's have one now.  Rachael
     won't be done for at least 15 minutes."

     "I don't know ... how can you be sure that she ..."

     "I know, Al," she interrupted.  "Rachael won't be free until at
     least 6:30."

     I noticed it was then 6:15.  Mary's certainty about this
     reinforced my suspicion that Rachael and she were in this
     together.  No doubt they arranged for me to be alone with Mary
     until 6:30.

     Despite these thoughts, I still found myself wanting to be
     seduced.  This scared me, as a part of me feared what I was
     letting myself in for.  The conflict was beginning to drive me
     crazy.  "I don't know, Mary," I sighed.  "I mean ... it's nice
     of you to offer ...  _very_ nice of you, as a matter of fact
     ... it's just that ... well ...  right here ... is ... it's so
     ...  so public, and ... uh ..."  I looked down and let my words
     trail off.  I was paralyzed with indecision and fear.

     After letting me sit there like that for a moment, Mary
     suddenly said, "Al ..."  the fake wholesome sweetness was
     completely gone from her voice and she spoke with strength and
     more than a little sexual power.

     I looked up and when our eyes met she continued "... I can tell
     you like to have sexual fantasies when looking at magazines
     like this ..."

     I sighed defeatedly.  I didn't want her to know that.

     "... and I think you'd even like it better with me helping
     you."

     She waited for my reply, but all I did was sigh and gesture
     helplessly.  Finally, she went on, her voice low, sultry, and
     almost threatening: "You want to ... much, much more than
     you're letting on, Al.  We both know you'd love it."

     "Well ... I guess so," I murmurred.

     "I _know_ so, Al."  She paused, boring into me with her gaze.
     I squirmed uncomfortably, but finally decided to acquiece to
     her.  What harm would there be in looking at the magazine, I
     thought to myself as I hesitantly nodded my acceptance.

     "So look at her, Al," Mary said, the matter now settled.  She
     pointed to the sexy woman on the cover of the magazine, still
     on my lap.  "I can tell you like her." Her manner was slow and
     deliberate, and she never lowered her eyes from mine.  "But
     don't you want to see her naked?"

     I smiled sheepishly and nodded.  She saw my reaction but she
     pretended not to have noticed it, and she continued, a bit more
     insistently, "Wouldn't you like to see her naked breasts, Al?
     Don't you want to see her nipples?"  She emphasized the word
     "nipples" and pushed her chest out slightly.  The motion was
     subtle, but she did it slowly without lowering her gaze from
     mine, which made it impossible to ignore.  I couldn't help but
     lower my eyes to Mary's chest, and I then noticed that her
     nipples were erect.  I caught myself and quickly looked back
     into her eyes, hoping in vain that she didn't see me gaze at
     her breasts.  But she was just staring at me with a knowing,
     confident look that made me gasp.

     I suddenly panicked and looked away, down at the magazine, back
     at her, off into space, and back at her again.  As soon as our
     eyes finally met again, she said, always slowly and
     deliberately, "And don't you want to see her pussy, Al?"

     She paused, staring, and then continued, "Wouldn't you like to
     look up between her legs and see her crotch -- her naked cunt?"

     With those words Mary again made a slow, subtle motion, this
     time shifting her weight slightly so that her legs spread apart
     a little bit.  I found myself looking towards her well-covered
     crotch as her hemline rode up maybe a half inch higher on her
     thighs.  But I couldn't see up her skirt, much as I wanted to.

     Again I went into a panic as I realized that she knew I was
     staring.  I was getting quite scared, but also rather aroused.
     After our eyes met again, she said, always slowly and
     deliberately, "I know you want to see her, Al.  Here ..."  she
     picked up the magazine, revealing the bulge in my pants.  She
     made a point of looking down at it and then slowly raised her
     intent gaze back to my eyes.  She said nothing about my
     erection, but her gestures were enough to let me know she was
     aware of it.  She continued, "... let me show you where she's
     posing nude."

     She thumbed through the magazine until she found what she was
     looking for, and then she laid it back down on my lap.  The
     model was in a bedroom setting, totally naked, bending over the
     top of the dresser with her ass pointed out at the camera.
     There was a mirror behind the dresser which showed the model's
     naked breasts.  She was looking in the mirror right into the
     camera with a nasty, lewd expression on her face.  One of her
     hands was on her ass cheek, pulling it open.

     Never ceasing to speak slowly and deliberately, Mary said,
     "Look at her nipples."  She paused a moment and continued, "And
     what an ass she has!  Do you like her ass, Al?"

     Mary looked at me, waiting for a reply.  I was practically
     paralyzed with terror, but I swallowed thickly and managed to
     force myself to say, "Yes, I like ... it."  I couldn't bring
     myself to say the words "her ass".

     "What a hot fantasy woman for you, Al!  Imagine being there
     with her ...  staring at her naked body.  She doesn't mind ...
     she wants you to stare.  She's posing for you ... right there
     in front of you ... naked, spreading her ass for you.  See how
     she's looking at you?  She knows how much she's turning you on.
     She's telling you something, Al.  Do you know what she's
     saying?"

     "Uh ... no, um ... I ... I, uh ..." I stammered, nearly unable
     to speak but realizing that I was starting to enjoy what Mary
     was doing to me -- in spite of my nervousness.

     "She's telling you she wants you to take out that big, long
     cock of yours and jack off for her."

     I sighed nervously.

     "She wants you to, Al.  She knows how much you love to jack off
     and she wants to help you.  She does, Al.  She wants to play
     with her ass ... to fuck her asshole with her finger ...  and
     to look you deeply in the eyes and talk really dirty to you ...
     to tell you what she's doing to her herself ... to tell you to
     keep stroking that hot penis of yours."

     Mary paused.  I looked up at her, the beads of sweat starting
     to drip down my forehead.  She stared right through me.  I
     couldn't hold her gaze and I looked down at the picture and
     then nervously around the room.

     "Look at her, Al," Mary whispered throatily.

     I looked back down at the picture, and she said, "I bet you
     love jacking off to photos like this."

     I gasped and went into a panic, stammering idiotic-sounding
     denials: "No, uh ... not really ...  I mean ... well, it's not
     ... I ..."

     She softly but firmly interrupted me, just saying "Al" and
     staring at me.  I stopped my yammering and she continued, a bit
     more deliberately and intensely, "You love how it feels to
     squeeze and stroke your cock while looking at her, don't you,
     Al?"

     I started my protests again, but before I could say much she
     cut me off: "Don't deny it, Al.  I know you do."  She stared at
     me, waiting for a reply.

     I sighed and tried to deny what she was saying, "Mary ... it's
     not what you think ... really it isn't ... I mean, I guess I
     sometimes ... well ...  Mary, damnit, this is so difficult ...
     don't you understand that ..."

     She cut me off in mid sentence, ignoring everything I was
     trying to say.  "Your long penis feels so good when it hardens
     in your hand, doesn't it, Al?"

     Damn her!  But I was paralyzed with fear.  I hadn't wanted her
     to know about my masturbation, and I felt totally demoralized
     to see how much she was able to infer.  All I could do was
     stare at her with my mouth open, my semi-hard cock twitching
     under the magazine on my lap.  Despite my fear I was intensely
     aroused and mesmerized by her.

     She continued, slowly and deliberately, never lowering her gaze
     from my eyes, "Yeah, you love feeling it get hard as you stroke
     it.  You tickle your balls with the fingers of your other hand.
     You spread your legs wide and you thrust your hips in rhythm
     ... in rhythm to the way you squeeze your prick with your fist.
     It's all covered with oil and you slide your hand up and down
     your burning, hard shaft as you pump your wet, spurting cum all
     over her ass."

     I was trembling and nervously fidgeting under her gaze.  After
     a pause of a couple seconds she continued, "You love to do
     that, Al, don't you?"

     I looked down sheepishly.  She quietly said, "Look at me, Al."
     I looked back up into her eyes and she continued insistently,
     but still slowly: "You love making sperm come out of your
     penis, don't you?"

     I murmurred, barely audibly, "Well, I ..."

     She interrupted, even more insistently, "Yes you do, Al.  You
     love shooting it out all over the place.  And you like to watch
     your penis as your semen spurts out.  You stare at that creamy,
     white, thick sperm all over your penis, slowly, thickly oozing
     down all over it.  Your sweet penis gets so wet and slippery,
     and you love playing with your sperm on you ...  rubbing your
     fingertips in it, smearing it into your soft, slippery penis."
     Another slight pause.  "You do that, don't you, Al?"

     I was almost beyond resisting.  She had me mesmerized and quite
     aroused.  I managed to feebly protest, "Well ... no ... but I
     guess ... well, some of what you said, anyway, but ..."

     "All of it," she corrected.  "Every thing I described.  Don't
     deny it," she said over more of my protests.  "You can hardly
     wait to get home, open up the magazine to this picture, and
     take out your cock and jack off -- just like I just described.
     Don't deny it, Al.  I know you can hardly stop thinking about
     what your sperm is going to look and feel like all over your
     dick when you make yourself cum."

     "Mary, please ..." I protested feebly, the words choking in my
     throat.

     "It's OK, Al.  I understand."  She spoke more softly and
     kindly.  "Really, Al.  Now listen to me."

     She paused and I looked at her to hear what she had to say.
     "You're embarrassed and scared of what I know about you," she
     continued.  "Most men don't like women to know that they like
     to masturbate.  They think it makes them less virile and macho.
     Well, Al, I don't care about any of that.  Whatever you like to
     do to yourself is just fine with me, believe me."

     I nodded, although I was quite skeptical.  She went on, "So Al,
     I understand how nervous you are that I know about your
     masturbation, but I assure you I won't tell anyone.  Not a
     single person, Al.  I promise."

     She seemed sincere, but I didn't trust her.  I'm sure my
     skepticism showed on my face, because she continued, "No, Al.
     Really.  I really mean it.  I give you my most solemn assurance
     that I'll keep my word and never betray you."  Her voice became
     an intimate whisper: "It'll be our secret, Al -- our intimate,
     totally private little secret."

     She leaned forward and touched my arm.  "I'm glad I know some
     of your private pleasures, Al," she whispered.  "It's so
     special, so exciting to have someone with whom you can share
     your forbidden secrets."

     She moved really close and whispered very, very softly while
     staring into my eyes.  "Such sweet secrets, Al: all alone at
     home, nude on your bed, your eyes closed, your penis all
     covered with oil.  It feels _so_ good to slide your fist up and
     down your slippery, hard shaft ...  ohhhhh, so _good_ ...
     imagining that woman in the magazine ... that nude woman ...
     standing over you ... making you jack off for her ... making
     you pump out all your sperm ... such intimate, hot, _nasty_
     secrets, Al."

     All the while I was staring, dumbfounded.  She put her arms
     around my neck and said, "You love your sperm, Al," as she
     slowly brought her lips to mine and kissed me long and deeply.

     After she was finished she breathed, "Yeah, you _do_ love your
     your sperm, Al ... and your penis.  It's OK.  Don't worry,
     baby, it's our secret.  Your sperm ..."  she kissed me "... and
     your _sweet_ penis ..."  she kissed me again "...  are our
     private ..." another kiss "... intimate ..." and another "...
     hot ..."  and still another "... _nasty_ little secret."

     With that she pushed me back down on the couch with her on top
     of me, this time hotly embracing me and squirming on me as she
     pushed her tongue down my throat and passionately kissed me for
     at least a minute or two straight.  At first I resisted,
     however feebly, but soon I was tightly embracing her, fondling
     her ass, and grinding my cock against her willing groin.

     After I was drunk and dizzy with desire she stopped and got up
     off of me.  As I panted and slowly dragged myself up off my
     back, I noticed that Mary seemed totally unfazed.  She was
     quite calm and collected as she said, "Take off your clothes
     and masturbate for me, Al."

     Still recovering my wits, all I could do was feebly grunt an
     incoherent protest, which Mary brushed aside with, "I like
     having a man jack off in front of me."

     She gave me a slight leer and paused to let her words sink in.
     I would willingly masturbate for her, but not here ... not with
     Rachael around.  I was almost started crying.  "But Mary ..." I
     stammered, choking on the words, "... please not here ... I'm
     so ... I'm so ... well, I'm kinda scared and ..."

     "You're more than 'kinda' scared, Al: you're terrified."  I
     swallowed and nodded.  It was all I could do.  She continued,
     "I want you that way."

     I looked up at her, surprised and pained.  "It turns you on
     when you're scared, Al," she went on, ignoring my pleading
     gaze.  "Being scared makes you _more_ turned on.  Right?"  I
     looked down and mumbled that she was probably right.  "Don't
     deny it, Al.  You _want_ this ..."  she paused until I looked
     up into her hard gaze and then she continued, "...  you want
     this very, _very_ badly, Al."

     As she said that she put her hands on her breasts and slowly
     lowered them down the sides of her body, her eyes boring
     through me.  "Feel the fear, Al," she said after her hands
     reached her thighs.  She got up on her knees and leaned a
     little closer to me, saying, "Sex scares you, Al."  She grasped
     each of my shoulders and moved her face closer to mine.  She
     licked her lips lewdly and demonicly, and then said, breathing
     huskily, "I want you terrified, Al."  She cupped my cheeks in
     her hands and moved still closer, licking her lips, breathing
     heavy, moaning, and making facial expressions as if she was
     fucking me or masturbating.  I'd never seen anyone act so lewd
     and intensely arousing.  My cock was hard in my pants.  She
     then said, "So scared ... and so _hot_ Al!  Feel the fear.
     Feel how hot you are."

     She continued for a few more moments with this and then said,
     "I've barely gotten started, Al.  This is just the beginning."
     She sat back and looked down at my lap.  My erect cock bulged
     up in my pants.  "And look how hard I've got you already."

     She looked back into my eyes and said, "Take off your pants and
     jack off for me."

     I really didn't want to do it right there in the office with
     Rachael in the next room.  "But Mary," I pleaded.  "Not here
     ... not with Rachael ..."

     She interrupted, "Rachael won't come in.  She'll buzz me on the
     phone first.  Don't worry.  I meant it when I said I wouldn't
     betray your secret.  She'll call and I'll just tell her you're
     in the bathroom ..."  she paused for emphasis "... pissing."
     She hissed out the word and then licked her lips.

     She paused for a moment, staring, and then continued, "It
     wouldn't be far from the truth, you know."  Another pause.  "I
     mean ... if you _were_ in the bathroom, you'd be holding your
     cock and watching your hot _piss_ stream out -- and that's what
     you're going to be doing here, Al -- except it won't be piss,
     of course."

     She got up and went to the chair across from me and sat in it,
     facing me.  She said, just as slowly and deliberately as ever,
     "Now masturbate for me."  I still did nothing, and she
     continued calmly, "I know you want to."  A short pause.
     "You've been staring at my breasts all night."  Another pause.
     "I'm going to play with them while you jack off."  Always
     staring into my eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let
     it hang open.  She raised her hands to her breasts and slowly
     began to caress and tease them.

     "Touch your dick, Al," she said, but I still tried to protest.
     "Tease it ...  tickle it ... come on ... I know you love how it
     feels in your hand.  Don't you want to hold your penis, Al?
     Look at my nipples -- all erect and hard like that hard meat of
     yours.  I know how sensitive your penis gets when its hard like
     this. Come on, Al," she begged mockingly, still squeezing and
     caressing her breasts as she stared into my eyes.  "I know how
     badly you want to slide your hand up and down that rigid prick
     of yours ... milking pleasure into it ...  milking the cum out
     ...  _squeeeeezing_ it so good like you love to do."

     I still was struggling between wanting to run away and hide and
     taking out my cock and furiously stroking it for her, and I did
     nothing.  She stopped rubbing her breasts and said, "Maybe I
     should show you how to do it, Al."  She reached into her purse
     and brought out a rubber, two-headed dildo.  Its color,
     texture, and look were quite lifelike, although it was at least
     a foot long.  She put it down next to her on the chair and then
     unzipped her skirt about halfway up and opened it wide.

     Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly spread her
     legs, exposing her naked crotch, and she said, "I took my
     panties off when I went out to get you your jack-off book, Al.
     Look at my hairy cunt."  I noticed that she wasn't a real
     blonde, but it didn't matter.  The sight of the dark pubic hair
     covering her moist pussy really turned me on.

     She picked up the dildo and held it out for me to see.  "This
     is _my_ penis," she said in her slow, deliberate manner.
     "Watch me play with it."  With that she grasped it around the
     shaft with her two hands so that both of its heads were
     visible.  She slowly lowered it down her body, rubbing one of
     the heads against her breasts and nipples, and then her
     stomach, groin, and to her pussy.  All this time she kept
     intensely, seductively gazing into my eyes.  I was mesmerized
     by her.

     She then positioned one of its heads between her legs, and
     holding it completely still with the other head pointed out at
     me, she pushed it inside of her by slowly grinding and gyrating
     her hips.  Keeping a firm grasp on it with both hands, she
     began to fuck herself with it solely by moving her body -- not
     the dildo.  Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly
     and deliberately bumped and grinded, the now moist end of the
     dildo pushing rhythmically, hotly, and hypnotically in and out
     of her grasping pussy.  After a short while, she increased the
     pace of her gyrations, but not too fast and still very
     deliberately so as to maximize the effect she was having on me
     as I watched her.

     All the while she kept her eyes glued to mine, and I found it
     more and more difficult to resist stroking my cock as I watched
     her sexily writhe before me, the dildo sliding in and out of
     her thrusting crotch.  Soon she said, "Look at my cock, Al.
     See it sliding in and out of my cunt."  With that she lifted
     herself up slightly so that only the head of was in her, and
     she rotated her hips, making the dildo bend and squirm.  She
     said, "Oooooooh, _fuck_ me!" and sat back down so that the
     dildo slid way up in her.  She repeated that sequence a few
     times, each time making me less and less able to resist
     touching and squeezing my own cock.

     Then, she stopped and let go of the end.  About half of the
     dildo was in her, leaving about 6 inches or so sticking out.
     The lifelike dildo looked like a cock sticking out of her.  She
     just sat there for a minute so I could stare at her.

     Then, she squirmed out of her blouse and stood up, unzipping
     her skirt the rest of the way and tossing it on the chair
     behind her.  She was totally naked now except for her
     high-heeled shoes and the end of the dildo sticking out of her.
     "Look at my cock, Al," she said, reaching down with one hand
     and lightly tickling the shaft and head of the dildo with her
     fingers.  "It's so sexy, isn't it?"

     It indeed was, but as soon as I realized that, a wave of fear
     shot through me: that penis-like thing turned me on, and I
     suddenly worried about being gay.  This homophobic fear had a
     strange effect on me: it aroused me intensely -- much, much
     more than I could sublimate or deny.  The more I realized how
     much I liked looking at that penis, the more aroused I became
     in my fear.  My cock grew rigid and pushed the front of my
     pants out noticibly.

     Mary seemed to be aware of the effect this was having on me.
     "Look at my penis, Al," she said.  She moved her hips from side
     to side, causing the cock to shake, too.  Watching it wiggle, I
     felt a palpable surge pulsate through my penis and groin.  I'd
     never before experienced such a pronounced reaction in my penis
     without touching it.  It felt as if I could almost cum just
     from watching Mary sexily making her penis-like thing move for
     me.  This homosexual response scared the hell out of me, and my
     arousal grew with my anxiety.

     "Let's touch our cocks together, Al," Mary was saying.  "Come
     on," she said with a seductive, mock-pleading tone, "Don't you
     want to get nude with me and rub our penises together?"

     I was beyond speech by this point.  Besides, I'm sure Mary
     intended it to be a rhetorical question.

     "I want to touch the head of your dick with mine," she
     continued.  "Ohhhh, yeah -- so good, so hot -- right on the tip
     where your sperm comes out ...  yeah!  Just sorta ... _push_
     'em together ..."  She moved her hips to illustrate how she was
     going to push.  Another spasm went through my penis and groin,
     this time causing me to close my eyes and moan sharply with
     pleasure.

     "Oh _yeah_ Al," she panted seductively.  "Feels so damn good
     inside your dick, eh?  Well this ain't nothin', Al.  We've
     barely gotten started."

     I smiled weakly.

     "Now get up and get nude," she demanded suddenly. "_Now_ Al!"
     she ordered, when she saw that I was still hesitating.  I was
     no longer able to do anything but obey her.  As I nervously
     fumbled with my shoes, socks, pants, shirt and finally my
     underwear, Mary was saying, "I want to rub the head of my cock
     down your shaft ... yeah ... to your balls ... oh yeah, it
     feels so good to rub our penises together ... I'll push my head
     right there on the base of your cock ... right there where the
     bottom of your penis meets your balls ... I'll rub it right
     there, right where you first feel your cum flowing up the
     inside of your dick ... push a little there ...  then slide it
     back up the underside of your penis to right under the rim ...
     on the bottom there right where it meets your shaft ...  and
     push on it there a little, too ..."

     She removed the dildo, turned it around, and put it back inside
     of her with the heads reversed.  The one that was previously in
     her was now pointing at me -- I could see it shine with her
     juices.

     "It's all wet now, Al.  My hot penis is all wet and slippery
     for you ...  so slippery against your dick, Al.  Come on, damn
     it!" she said insistently, "Hurry up and take off those
     underpants and come over here," her voice was filled with
     seductive, mock urgency. "I can't stand it any more -- hurry up
     and let me rub my hot, wet dick against yours ... yeah ...  so
     slippery and throbbing ... oh hurry ... rub your cock on mine
     ...  PLEASE!"

     I was finally out of my clothes and I stumbled to her ... I was
     dizzy with lust and couldn't stand well.  "You're too tall for
     me," she hissed, as she stood up on her toes and pretended to
     be surprised that our penises still could barely touch.  "My
     dick won't reach yours, damnit!  Lie down on the floor ... on
     your back ... I want to kneel over you and rub _dicks_", lewdly
     emphasizing the word "dicks" by leeringly licking her lips as
     she hissed out the word.

     I was on my back in a flash and she was soon straddling me on
     all fours, her dildo poised right above my rigid, throbbing
     penis.  Lowering it down against mine, she did pretty much what
     she said she would: first she pushed its head against mine and
     bounced very, very slightly.  The sensations made me gasp so
     loudly it was almost a yell.

     She then just started moving her hips from side to side,
     causing the dildo to rub and glide against my penis.  Our
     shafts would meet and the slippery sensations drove me wild.
     While she did this, she was rhythmically speaking in a low,
     chanting, seductive whisper: "... ohhhhh ... rub it ...  yeah
     ...  so hot ... the shaft ... oh, oh! ... yeah ... slippery hot
     penis against mine ... your big penis ... look at our penises,
     Al ... yeah ...  so hot ... makes you spasm ... yeah ...  penis
     spasm ... yeah ... such a long hard dick, Al ... rub our dicks
     together ... please! ... oh, yeah ... you love dicks so much,
     Al ... oh yeah ... my dick makes you so hot ... so long and
     hard ... throbbing ..."

     She then leaned down and rested her chest on mine, holding my
     arms down with hers.  But she was still kneeling, her ass up in
     the air and her dildo still rubbing against my increasingly
     aroused cock.  Rubbing her breasts against my chest as well,
     and looking me deep in the eye from just a few inches away, she
     said with a mock pout, "Oh baby, my dick is getting dry."  It
     indeed was.  "Make it wet for me, honey.  Please!  Please cum
     on my dick."  She moved so that the head of her dildo was at
     the base of my cock and its shaft was against my balls.  Slowly
     sliding the head of her penis-thing up the length of my shaft,
     she moaned, "I want your _sperm_ all over my big, long, huge,
     throbbing DICK!"

     Just as she said "DICK", the head of her dildo reached that
     spot she described on the underside of my penis, right where
     the shaft meets the rim.  With that, I felt the first hot,
     burning load of semen flowing up my penis and exploding out of
     the head.  As spasm after spasm of cum gushed out of me, Mary
     kept lightly pushing and sliding her dildo all over my penis.

     "Oh yeah!" she was panting in time with my spasms and moans.
     "Gimme your sperm, Al.  All over my hot dick.  Yeah!  Cum all
     over my penis, Al.  Ohhhh, so wet and hot.  Yeah!  More!  Such
     a hot penis ... such a turnon for you to see and feel my penis
     all over yours ... oh yeah ... you love my penis ...  you love
     looking at it ... you love feeling it ... and you really love
     cumming all over it ... oh, what a sweet penis boy you are!"

     			-- to be continued --


--