Venus 2000 stories

Added: Chanel Pike - Date: 12.11.2021 04:51 - Views: 16479 - Clicks: 1416

Straight boy Dean expects a professional massage but soon finds himself attached to a milking machine that makes cum over and over again in this story by Hephistian. It's more his story than mine, but something to think about and enjoy. Of course, the author cannot be held responsible for any sudden erections you mayexperience during future massage sessions.

The human body has always fascinated me. Anatomy and physiology were my favorite subjects in school, and while nursing was my intent, it ended upthat massage therapy was a lot Venus 2000 stories rewarding to me. I'd always found touch to be a powerful and useful tool in healing, and so after a few years of doing the "salon-spa thing," pawning my skills in back of people giving perms and pedicures and making little money, at 32, I decided to open my own business out of my home.

And it was the best move I ever made. Now, I'm what I guess you would call "bi," though I think limiting yourself with labels is ridiculous. The body is beautiful, whether male or female, and I Venus 2000 stories this has truly helped my business with a diverse clientele. And I should point out that whether rail-skinny, or lean and muscled, or sporting some extra padding, the body and its intricate de are simply amazing to me; it seemed that people of all walks were comfortable on my table. But what I found most interesting was the way the body responds to touch -- in particular the way men react to it.

See, women are very receptive to touch, allowing themselves to "live in the moment," giving themselves over to the sensations and not so reserved about relaxing and vocalizing their enjoyment of the massage. A moan, a sigh, or even the gasp of discomfort, they were all expressed freely. Then there were the men, who always seemed to have something to prove. They'd typically "just lay there and take it," as if the massage was some right of passage, a test of their manhood showing that they could unplug themselves from the experience.

And honestly, it became annoying to me. I found myself getting an odd pleasure from having their bodies betray their calm composure, watching their penises twitch and throb under the sheet, seeing it rise and drip as I calmly and professionally worked the groin as though I didn't notice.

And soon, having a guy loose himself in the feeling of the massage, hearing him groan in pleasure, seeing the precum gather on the tip of his penis, this became a guilty pleasure of my own. So for the past few years, I have been studying the "art" of the "Penis Milking Torture. My subject this evening is Dean. Dean is a white male, 19 years old, married, has one child and is a carpenter. He is 6 feet tall and of average build and looks, with short-cropped blondish-brown hair. While hardly what I'd call "hot," he's got great dimples, an easy smile, and that kind of personality that you just enjoy being around.

He's quick with a laugh, and sports the big hands and small gut that tells of hard working weeks and hard drinking weekends. I instantly liked him. Dean has never gotten a professional massage before and we talk to kind of loosen things up a bit. It seems that Dean lost his footing while decking a roof, and in catching himself from falling off the trusswork, he pulled his groin and hamstring. Not unusual. But as we talk, he starts telling me more about his background, his problems at home, a recent DUI, and other tensions.

He asked if I could help with Venus 2000 stories as well, and I said of course. Now truth is, Dean was referred to me by a mutual friend who has been "milked" by my setup three times, and he begged me to introduce Dean to the process.

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My professionalism forced me to say no, but upon meeting Dean, I was starting to think differently. I introduce him to the massage room, which is an upstairs spare bedroom in my house near a park. The idle chitchat becomes talk of the table and the standard questions. I ask him if he is comfortable and to disrobe and lie face down on the table, naked if he'd like but underwear is okay if he'd prefer. I leave for a few minutes, check voics, come back, knock lightly, and re-enter the room. Dean is face-down on the table, covered by a light sheet, and listening to the New Age music on the CD player.

He seems relaxed, so I spread some warm oil on my hands and his back and begin. I find he is suffering from serious tension, so I work the knots in his back and shoulders for a while, hearing his breathing soften and his sudden intakes of breath as I hit a sore spot; but true to form, he mostly remains quiet and still.

After working my way down his back to his legs, notice he has removed all his clothes as I suggested. My mind thinks ahead to the possibility of milking the boy, but again, I try to remain professional and focus on his trouble areas. But honestly, his obvious effort to keep stoic is annoying me. I want to hear this guy make some noise. As I work his thighs, I can see his penis poking down, mashed in next to his scrotum. My hands sweeping nearer and nearer his genitals, pressed tight under his body's weight, they make a few casual brushes against his cock and balls.

He twitches at first, but quickly recovers, mutters something like "sorry," and I continue. My deep fingerwork finds its way closer and closer to his "taint," and as I continue to massage his obviously virgin glutes and between his spread legs, I notice his cock is growing tighter and smoother under him. I suddenly say, "Here you go," and reaching under the table, release the padded panel aligned under his crotch.

As the panel opens down, his penis and testicles hang freely and slightly stiff under the table. But in the moment I spy his equipment, what strikes most me was the thickness of his cock -- it was clearly as big around as it was long, giving it a stubby, blocky appearance; and at the circumcised tip, a head that was so fat, it seemed almost square. That was it, I had to do it. I would get this stump of a cock aching for release, and before I was done with him, the boy was going to cum for me. I straighten up and say, "So, Dean, you are a mess of tension.

I can get it done now, no extra charge for it, but it'll take a few minutes to get set up. Are you alright with trying or would you rather wait? I need something, anything, to get rid of all this shit. Do whatever," he says.

I smile. Is that alright? I want you to be comfortable. With his cock and balls hanging conveniently down through the table, they will Venus 2000 stories easily manipulated, so I begin to immobilize Dean with padded Velcro straps ankles, knees, thighs, waist belt, wrists, elbows, back strap, neck strap and head harness and soon he is completely Venus 2000 stories to move.

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Returning to his taint, I begin working my fingertips in small circles, ever closer to his tight hole. I feel the area throb repeatedly, knowing his cock is twitching and waving under him. Over the next five minutes, I get closer and closer to his pucker, sweeping my hands over his ass, between his cheeks, and grazing his clenching anus.

This is truly the tricky spot, but having gone this path dozens of times, I know the best things to say to keep the guys calm and receptive. Probably from sitting, but also from stress. I'll keep it very short and if you experience any discomfort or pain, you tell me, I'll stop.

He's out to prove something, and doesn't want to appear the pussy to another man. He'll "suck it up," even when his mind is pushing back. With plenty of oil on my hands, I quickly wipe some lubricant on my fingertips, and start the entry of Dean's ass. Slowly, gradually, my index finger massages his tight pucker, Venus 2000 stories tiny circles over it. And after a few patient minutes, I gently push inside him. His hole folds inward, tight against my digit, and I feel his oil-slicked ass-hairs against my skin. His body tenses, probably knowing this intrusion was coming, and I gently slip my finger out.

You're doing great, Dean. But then I push inside, deeper this time, then out. Deeper then out. And soon, two fingers are exploring Dean's firm prostate as he numbly breathes away the violation. With my other hand, I lean over him and continue rubbing and stroking his taint. I feel his ass push back, just a fraction of an inch, his hips trying to hump his thickening cock against thin air. It's nearly time. We continue this for another five minutes or so. Dean is confused but cooperative under my touch, his body sending his mind als it finds hard to translate.

But his cock is having no trouble understanding it all. While not fully erect, there is a thin, clear line of precum connecting Dean's cock to the Venus 2000 stories I folded under the table. It twitches with his pulse; I'm sure his heart is pounding away in his chest. I gently pull my fingers out, and run my other hand tenderly down his back.

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His hole clenches a couple times as I withdraw, and he visibly relaxes before me. Kneeling next to the table, I ask, "How are you feeling, Dean? This is obviously not the type of massage he had imagined, but he's too polite and too proud to let on. Just relax. In fact, it looks like you're doing very well.

I reach under the table and touch his rubbery dick. It's hot to the touch, and he lurches slightly in the restraints. He can't move much, and this realization probably only now hits home. Time to act. My voice, firm and reassuring. I see his head try to turn slightly as I speak. A specialized technique that has some tantric roots.

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But no, I'm not gay," I half-lie, "and you're safe. I promise, you're not going to get a handjob from me. He laughs again, that pitiful, nervous laugh that's as much to ease his own mind as it is for my benefit. Without missing a beat, I continue to gently stroke and squeeze his dick with one hand and quietly get two squirts of lube on my hand from a pump bottle under the table. By now the subject is semi-hard and at least very curious as to what is going to happen.

I thoroughly lube up his cock with the Astroglide that matches well with what's in store for this helpless teen.

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Opening the small foot locker box under the table reveals the true tools of my torture device -- the device that will forever change the way Dean looks at dairy cows. He alternately tenses and relaxes as my fist coats his cock with lube. I slide his slippery rod into the liberally lubed "receiver" -- a sheath inside a clear plastic tube that is just longer and wider than Dean's stiffening cock.

The receiver's velvety smooth texture sliding along his prick makes his cock almost rock-hard now. The receiver is connected by a very flexible hose to the Venus check it out at www.

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Because of health and safety concerns, I use new receivers for each victim -- er, uh, subject. The penis is encased in an enclosed soft latex liner inside a clear tube that will stroke at practically any speed and depth.

Venus 2000 stories

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