A Man Averse to Insertion

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Thomas regards his genitals as inviolate.
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The 33-floor Condom House on the corner of Erection Avenue and G-Spot Lane almost toppled over as all 2389 females who worked in the building rushed to windows. With pounding chests and breast turgid in disbelief they watched a distinguished looking male waiting to cross Erection and enter the artistically shaped entrance to their building that the filthy-minded recognized as replicating the shape of a wide-open vulva.

These women had arrived at 8:30 to find an email marked 'URGENT'. It read:

Attention Girls

Thomas B. Weaver, recently appointed as head actuary, carries a secret. The job of his exalted department housed on the 32-floor, immediately below senior management and above Treasury which indicates its importance, is charged with predicting the results of failures of condoms as a result of structural failure, penetration of teeth when being pulled on or teeth nipped or from sabotage at the hands of jilted lovers.

Armed with little more than mathematical theory, Tommy Weaver and his team of sixty-nine, mostly egg-heads, are responsible for evaluating future threats facing condom investment, manufacture and usage; finding creative ways to thwart such undesirable events; and reducing the accidents or culpable events that do occur, thus easing company liability for damages.

We have learned that two women in this building have dated Mr Weaver and found that sexual ejaculation internally, on their being or at the hand of a female is something he's never experienced because he's not interested in attaining such experience.

This is an absolute disgrace. It behoves every woman in this building to put this uncooperative male to bed and make him a real man. But don't rush – there's enough of the actuary for everyone actually. Being a boss he arrives at 8.55 – you'll see him waiting to cross Erection, recognizable because he's the only male not attempting to undress the women bystanders. There is no suggestion he is gay; he does suck breast and pussy but that's about all. He won't allow his genitals to be touched, poor guy. – ANONYMOUS.

Thomas looked up at the Condom Building, admiring its realistic shape. Being rounded it let more light through on to the street. Noticing women lined up at the windows he waved impulsively and was staggered to see them all wave back – or at least as many as he spotted.

What a friendly bunch, he thought, and automatically calculated how many days at two dates a week, changing to three a week on alternative weeks, and changing to four on weeks when the moon was full, would it take him to work through that lot. He blinked at the number that came up – he was going to be a busy boy for quite some time. Nah, not many would be interested; the two so far were lucky strikes.

Thomas took the elevator to the 32nd and found it crowded with women, all of whom were giving him funny looks as if they were on heat and shoving notes into his pockets and even down the front of his trousers. How strange.

Miss Cold&Frosty as he called her – his PA – followed him into his office and locked the door. Before he knew it she had him backed against his desk and was lifting up a breast to his mouth. How she managed that one-handed was a bit of a mystery; a mechanical hoist would have had difficulty.

"No thanks Tina, I only have milk or yoghurt on Thursdays. Express that lot for your baby." Tina kept a small electric milking machine in her office; the first time he'd heard it going he rushed in thinking she was riding a motor-cycle in the office without prior permission.

Side-stepping from her grasp, Thomas bent and bit her ass to ensure she knew she was appreciated and watched fascinated as she repacked her superstructure.

Ten minutes later Thomas received a call to go to the office of the financial controller. Mrs Jobbins was slumped in her chair holding her dress up to her chin. "Come around and have a look at this, Tommy."

Dutifully he went around the desk and was confronted by a hairy vulva the size of a dinner plate. He fled and locked his office door and told Tina no calls. She called him fifteen minutes later to say he had 144 emails on his computer, all from females in the office, all soliciting dates.

"Reply to them all – they'll have to wait until I ask them; no exceptions."

"Thank you Thomas – I'll send one to myself and copy it to you as a reminder. I will clear all those other emails from your computer."

"Back up my disk before you do that, Tina. Evidence of an approach could be critical if I'm sucking pussy of someone who decides to change her mind and lodges a complaint." Quickly he copied all emails to CD just in case Tina decided to delete the lot without replying to them as an act of possessive sabotage. He knew that was an ungentlemanly thought and continued to feel bad about it even though that's exactly what happened.

Felicity Smith became famous throughout the entire building when she secured the first date since 'the incident' as it became known – the morning everyone lined the windows to watch Thomas cross the street. Everyone's clit had been throbbing – well, almost everyone's – and they watched this man of mystery cross Erection Avenue. It was even more exciting than years ago when they lined windows to watch Monica drive down Erection Ave in a white limo like Miss America.

Felicity (45) was the head chef in the company's dining room and Thomas had noticed she would serve him personally and when he chose steak it would be a half-inch thicker than the steaks of anyone else received. So he asked her to promenade with him one evening – down the waterfront promenade, of course.

They walked, Felicity with a bra two sizes too small, tight T-shirt and thin shorts, kept rubbing her pussy. Finally, the curious actuary after working out the risk of having his face slapped for asking such a leading question enquired, "Have you an STD or something?"

Although appalled that anyone would think that about her, Felicity gritted her teeth and said no – she just had a dried pussy.

"Oh, I'll fix that for you," Thomas offered. He lifted her on to the seawall, removed her shorts and pants and began licking her – passers-by giving them a wide detour, shocked looks and covering the eyes of children up to the age of twenty-two. Well, Felicity told her workmates next morning, if it hadn't been for his expertise in cunnilingus she would have bopped him one. Instead she put him on the wall after he'd finished with her but he refused to allow her touch him. "I ranted, stamped and cried, to no avail."

Email discussions on Felicity's fearsome fate from the flathead left everyone frustrated.

A deputation waited on Coral, the super-sexy model on whom development egg-heads tried out condoms with trial embellishments including a time alarm and an auto emptying device. Coral agreed to make a sortie and asked which gym Thomas attended.

Coral was pressing weights when Thomas approached – "Sir, kindly help me please. The weight of this press is pushing me out of my Lycra sport cami top."

Thomas could see she was oozing, substantially; he did not recognize her because usually when he saw her at work she was stretched out on a bench having the next trial condom inserted.

"What do you want me to do – take the weights from you?"

"No, that will spoil my routine. Just push me back into my top. Don't bother being gentle, I like a man who's hard."

The boobs were warm and cooperative and popped back, much too fast to Coral's annoyance.

"Sir, sir. Stand in front of me and allow me to suck you off – the result will allow me to power through the rest of my routine."

"I don't engage in fellatio," Thomas said stiffly, and walked away without any further titillating.

Coral took two days off work citing sickness – sexual emotional stress, but she did send a global email to females at Condom House explaining her failure – the first time in her entire adult life she'd not induce a male to shoot his load.

For three months Thomas survived. Every woman in the building now had what was purported to be Thomas genitals as the background screen graphic on her computer – fudged a tad so men couldn't recognize what they were looking at; but women visitors spotted it from fifty feet.

* * * *

Finally Thomas lost his virginity.

The Swedish nurse operating the Sick Room, Quinby – that's Quinby spelt with an 'n', not a 'm', invited Thomas along with two other men and two other women to share in her favorite weekend pursuit – barrel rolling down a reasonably fast waterway. They all loved it, having a great time, going down the race in pairs in the rubber barrel. Quinby went down three times with Thomas, not touching his genitals even when both he and she were thrown together going through rapids. She made sure that one of her sizeable boobs found its way to his mouth – not easy to accomplish in the dark but it was a small barrel.

Thomas told her he loved the action and she promised to invite him again. She called him on Friday night – "Sorry, it's short notice, can you come barrel rolling tomorrow?"

"Yes," he said delighted.

"Good, I'll call you back after contacting the others."

Quinby called back. "Sorry, the others all have something on. It's just you and me. If you don't find me exciting there's no need to come."

Noticing she'd not put any emphasis on the word come, Thomas felt excited, relaxed and unthreatened so meekly said he'd come.

"Oh, you are such a kind man. There's been rain so the river is running high – we'll probably catch a two-mile roll or perhaps three, equaling my record. I'd not like to travel alone over those distances."

The day was fine and they were lightly dressed. The little river was running wild.

Quinby had kissed Thomas, fully on the mouth when he arrived; she tasted as if she'd been eating honey, which she had. Thomas kept looking at those lips, licking his.

They carried the inflated barrel to the launch sight.

"We are both strong people, Quinby said. "I'm sure once we deflate the barrel the two of us will be able to lug it back. But let's have a trial – the first time we stop we exist rather than try to roll the vessel back into the main water flow."

It was exciting and surprisingly Quinby was shrieking, grasping her crew in a bear hug and licking his face. Thomas had just managed to get his tongue into her honey-tasting mouth when they grounded.

"Damn," Quinby complained. "We were going so well; that was the most exciting ride I've ever had."

She unscrewed the exit ring and they evacuated.

Quinby stood in the shallows, chest heaving, her normal pale completion under her blonde hair was an excited pink. Thomas also felt hugely excited and looked down in horror; his shorts were tented.

"Oh, don't bother about that – I'm a nurse," chuckled Quinby, not offering to relieve him as other woman did. Why wasn't she interested in him? His excitement went flat and the tent collapsed.

"Oh, where have you gone?" she asked, looking directly where the tent had been.

"Dunno," he said wistfully.

"Gentlemen get those for two reasons – this one is because you have peaked in excitement. It must be a lovely feeling?"

"Yes."

"Are you interested in seeing my pussy?"

That was said in such a way there was only one answer a gentleman could give: "Okay."

Quinby looked stern. "You'll not see it until you make the request with a lot more enthusiasm. I'm not in the habit of flashing to anybody but I regard you as someone special."

Special? Thomas looked down to his crotch, aware that the tenting crew were stirring into action. "Yes dear Quinby, show me your delectable pussy."

The word delectable did it for him, making her chest heave and she pulled aside her shorts and displayed what he hoped would be his luncheon entrée.

She giggled, he grinned and said, "Lovely – good enough to eat." She gave him that look and the tent was back. She saw that and now it was her lips being licked.

"Come on – let's deflate this – she meant the rubber barrel – and lug it back up to the pump.

After fruit juice and yoghurt biscuits they were away again, clasped in each other's arms before the bouncing started. They were tonguing and Quinby pulled Thomas's hand up the leg of her shorts. They began being really bounce about with Quinby screaming unrestrained, exciting Thomas no end – he began bellowing like a bull. Dimly he became aware that some how she had pulled his erection free and was pushing it up the leg of her shorts.

He was past caring. They were slammed into each othe and tumbled six feet down into new waters which she yelled were accessible only during high water.

At last he felt his cock in a warm, moist refuge. Sweat was pouring off her as she'd fought for almost five minutes to achieve her goal and signaled success with an animalistic grunt.

From then on they didn't have to do a thing: the bouncing, crashing, whirling into multiple spins of the barrel had them fighting motion nausea but their locked legs avoided coitus interruptus. Being an accomplished masturbator, Thomas was aware he'd had four ejaculations during their boisterous descent and he was aware by the different type of screaming that his seducer had achieved multiple releases over his engorged erection.

The sickening tossing motion of their craft finally ceased and they grounded – it appeared to be on sand.

"Leroy's pool, just before the main highway bridge. We've done the three miles – it's only the third time I done this trip, but never like this. I feel really fucked, let's go to sleep."

"Not being used to the feeling of being really fucked, I guess it's what I'm feeling. I want your pussy around my dick forever, Quinby."

"Don't talk so foolishly. I'm only a nurse. I won't say a word about what's happened here today. You invite Rosalie Winter out on a date and woo her. She is the niece of our chairman and a union with her will ensure your rapid rise up the foreskin ladder, as we term it."

They slept.

That night home safely in bed Thomas considered his erection. He knew what to do so left it alone and instead worked out some risk calculations.

Next day Thomas took the third sitting for lunch, knowing Quinby would be there. So was Rosalie Winter but she was no longer in Thomas' thinking – last night he'd considered her and deduced she would be one of those women who merely wanted a husband to take her to her goal of having babies. Quinby wanted someone to share her total life and, as far as he could tell, she would want to share his.

Unlike the other two shifts that filled the dinning room, the third shift left the room less than half full. But that didn't matter. A public display of any size was what he wanted, to kill this fetish the women in this building had for him and to set his course for the future.

Thomas approached Quinby's table with his steak and mushrooms meal and she looked delighted. "Hello," she smiled. "Are we well today? Please sit opposite me."

The other women at the table shifted around one place.

Thomas took the plunge. "It's rubbed a little raw."

Quinby colored and the other women gasped and laughed into their hands.

Thomas went down on to his knees and asked Quinby to marry him. She fainted and Thomas was asked to leave that table. Instead he dumped his meal and trudged to the door. But he was halted in his tracks.

"Yes," called the recovering Quinby.

"Yes," screamed the women at her table.

The news swept the building. His PA announced she was applying for a transfer but Thomas didn't mind. His risk assessment had proven correct – he'd figured his chances of having his two-second proposal accepted had come in at 71.8898 per cent, which is why he made the pitch.

On another calculation he figured he chances of he and Quinby fucking tonight had run out at 100.000001 per cent. He repeated the assessment for exactly the same result. He concluded is really was only a 100 percent chance – errors and omissions accepted.


Basking in the happiness a man does when he knows the tasticis are hin hier favour, Thomas's phone went, Aa deliriously happy Quinby was calling saying she had a question.

"May I sleep at your house this evening?"

THE END

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