I met this woman on the bus. My car was in the shop. So was hers. We got to talking. I was immediately drawn to her. She was a couple years younger than me, an upwardly mobile professional like I am, and she was, I have to say, very good-looking. I’m not much to look at, and not all that great as a conversationalist so I was surprised she seemed to be enjoying our little chat.
My stop came, and she hurriedly handed me a scrap of paper. I knew it was her phone number, and I was more than a little surprised.
Like a damn fool, I let five days slip away before I got up the balls to call her. I almost didn’t even then, because I was thinking it was probably too late. I mean a good-looking lass like that, no way she’d stay unattached for more than a day or two, right?
Then too, she probably had a guy already. But why, then, did she hand me her phone number?
So, very reluctantly, I called. My voice sounded little on the phone while she sounded great. She seemed truly delighted that I called.
We dated several times. At the end of each date, I was super-horny, but didn’t want to press forward too quickly, so sex was completely off the table.
On what I think was our seventh date, she’s the one who put it back on the table, but weirdly.
“I like torturing guys.”
I was like, “Huh?”
“I want to tell you something. Please don’t take it the wrong way. If you don’t understand my little, um… interest, then that’s OK, but…”
My curiosity was killing me, but she started three or four sentences, and didn’t complete any of them. I noticed her cheeks were flushed. What in the world could she be trying to say?
Finally, she blurted it out: “I have this thing I do. It’s not sexual. Oh, well, maybe it is…”
Then she fucking stopped again. Geez! I just sat there, probably looking like a stupid clod, waiting for her to tell me.
“OK,” she broke the silence. “So, don’t think badly of me, but I learned this from my brother. He used to love it, and I’ve since done it with all the guys I’ve met. Oh, don’t get the wrong idea, it’s just been like with maybe five other guys…”
Again, silence. I prompted, “Go on, you’re killing me!”
“So when I did it with Sammy, that’s my brother, he loved it, and every guy I’ve done it with loved it too. I like to tie a guy to a bed or, well, now I have a massage table in my apartment, and then I rub the tip of his dick, his glans, with the palm of my hand.”
I didn’t get it. I’d never had that done, so it didn’t sound like much of anything. I must have looked as dumbfounded as I was.
“Well, we’re getting pretty close now. Would you like me to do it to you?”
I have to tell you, that’s the weirdest come-on I’ve ever heard, and I’ve seen a lot of movies.
I really wanted to get sexual with this woman, so I said, “Sure, I guess so.”
I figured I could put up with whatever-the-fuck it was, and then we’d screw, and a good time would be had by all, right?
She looked like she had one more thing to say. Then she just came right out and crushed me. “But I don’t like sex. I don’t want to have sex. I think it’s dirty, and it’s just not for me.”
Did I look crushed? I must have because she quickly added, “Oh, but you’ll have an orgasm. I just loving doing this thing I do, then giving handjobs to my guys. Can you accept me for who I am?”
I figured any sort of sex was better than no sex, which is exactly what I’d been having for quite a long time now, other than fucking my own hand, so I said, “Sure.”
We arranged for me to come over that night. I know this is weird, but I was literally shivering a little as I rung her doorbell. It wasn’t cold. It’s just that I had made a date to do a very weird thing, and I didn’t quite know what it was, with a woman who frankly, I didn’t know all that well yet.
She answered, looking beautiful. She was wearing a kimono. I hadn’t expected that. We had a glass of wine. Actually, sparkling apple juice. One of the things I found attractive about her is she doesn’t drink.
So, anyway, after some small talk in which we were both evidently trying to avoid the elephant in the room, and yet get started with this elephant, she finally just said, “Come into my second bedroom, take off all your stuff, and jump up on my massage table. I’ll take care of the rest.”
How does one strip in front of a woman, just like that? I mean, this evening was off to a very strange start. But she just stood there staring at me. Slowly, I took off my shoes, then my socks. She seemed in a hurry to get to the good stuff, so as I was unbuttoning my shirt, she reached in and undid the last two buttons.
I hesitated before I undid my belt, but as I finally did, she pulled down my zipper. I practically stumbled out of my pants. Weirdly, when you get out of your pants at home, you just step out, right? But with her watching, I practically fell over.
I was down to my underwear. I knew the only course of action that was right for the situation. I mean, what was I going to do, throw everything back on, and go screaming out of her apartment? Besides I was quite horny. I’m not sure why. Nothing like this had ever happened before. My experience with all the women that I had known, well, three women altogether, is that we’d turn out the lights, we’d strip together, get quickly under the blankets, I’d put on a condom, and away we’d go. Finally, boldly, I threw off my underpants.
She asked me whether I’d mind having my wrists and ankles tied to the table. That really set me back. Who was this woman, really? Could she be trusted? After a moment of hesitation, I decided she was safe. Still, I asked for a safeword.
First, she told me I wouldn’t need one. Nothing she was going to do would be harmful. Still, I wanted my word, so she said, “OK, if you say ‘kittycat,’ I’ll stop immediately.
She had me lay on the table. It was crinkly. There was a sheet of plastic under the bedsheet on the table. She went from corner to corner tying my wrists, then my ankles.
Remember, I was stark naked, and now totally helpless, in front of this beautiful woman in a kimono, and trying desperately to tell myself that as weird as this situation was, it was going to be OK. In fact, I was somehow expecting… I don’t know what, but it was having an effect on me. As she tied my last ankle, I noticed that my penis was rock hard.
That was embarrassing. I don’t know quite why, but somehow, being naked, tied down, and with an erection was just so super-crazy!
She grabbed my penis and started stroking me very softly and gently. I was about to tell her I’d cum if she kept that up, when she stopped.
She dipped her fingers into a little container of Vaseline, then spread it on the palm of one hand, announcing, “This is where it gets crazy. You’ll squirm, you’ll yell, but you’ll be OK.”
Suddenly, it was too much. Too insane. I wanted out of there. I wanted to just be home watching a nice movie or something. But I didn’t tell her. There was another component of me that was really, really looking forward to whatever was going to happen. I’ve been a rather straight, conservative guy my whole life, so to be this far out of my comfort zone, was a real adventure. Or so I was telling myself at that moment.
She grabbed my penis, wrapping her fingers around the shaft with one hand. That felt nice. Then, she started rubbing that greasy palm of her hand over my glans. Just like she had predicted, within a couple of seconds I was squirming and yelling. I was going crazy. I had no idea what was happening. No one had ever done anything like that to me before. It was the most horrible tickle-like feeling in the world. It was also wonderful. I can’t explain it. My body wanted to get away. It was a torture test, but a test I wanted to win. And, after a few minutes, I was starting to win. The feeling was dying down. I wasn’t squirming as much. Instead of pure horrible tickle, it was starting to feel like I might cum. And pee. Come to think of it, the pee feeling was winning. That was kind of odd, because I had peed only a few minutes before coming to her apartment.
Then, it happened. I felt myself let go. She kept rubbing as if it wasn’t happening, but it was. I was peeing all over the place. There was nothing I could do about it. Purely involuntary. At one point, as her palm momentarily cleared away from my peehole, urine squirted onto my face. A little of the salty juice got in my mouth. I did the only thing I could do. I swallowed it. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.
She just kept going, and the next thing I knew, I was orgasming. I hadn’t done anything to cause that to happen. It was just like naturally happening. It was also the strongest and longest orgasm I’d ever had in my life.
We’ve done it a few times since. My girlfriend is quite weird. She’s never asked for reciprocation. I’ve offered every time. This girl doesn’t even like kissing. I’m a bit disappointed in a way that we’ve never fucked, and the only kissing is quick and perfunctory, but I’m so satisfied with the whole squirmy involuntary pee thing, and with her company in general, that I think I’m going to marry her.
Lately, she’s been taking it a step further, which I didn’t think I’d much care for, but now I’m loving it. She gives me what she calls ‘POT,’ post-orgasm torture. After I cum, she just keeps going, until my dick goes soft. The worst part is it stays hard for quite a while afterward. I guess it’s the ongoing stimulation. It’s very hard to take, but I love it.