Love StorybyBetty Johnson©
It was my twenty-second year, and I had figured it out. I realized only one thing could bring me real happiness. It was a simple thing that happened every day, yet somehow I had never experienced it.
I just wanted to fall in love.
Then I saw him, and I felt like a princess in a fairy tale. He was tall and handsome, though not too athletic. There was a nerdyness to him, but I sensed something strong underneath, like Clark Kent before superman emerges. I knew I had to meet him before he got away. As I was crossing his path, I pretended to twist my ankle.
He was so attentive and concerned. I assured him I was fine while grimacing in feigned pain. He eventually offered to drive me home.
Before I knew it, we were sitting on my couch together, about to have a wild time, or so I hoped. A flash of confusion swept across his face. "I thought you hurt your ankle."
"Oh, it is much better now, thank you. I heal very fast."
Something in his manner was so disarming and my body ached for his touch, but I didn't want to scare him off. I gave him a big hug and said, "Thanks for rescuing me and giving me a ride home. I feel like rewarding you in some way for being so kind. What could I do to make you happy right now."
He swallowed hard and said nervously, "Gosh, I don't know. Do you mean money?"
I coyly said, "I was thinking of something more intimate."
"This intimate." I crawled onto his lap, raised my mouth to his, and gazed into his eyes before giving him a warm, moist kiss. His lips made my blood feel like it was on fire, and I knew right then that this man was my one true love. I fantasized about another, more carnal love, and wondered what kind of equipment he had.
He whispered heavily, "That was the best reward I ever got."
"Maybe you want more? I can feel a bulge in your pants. Does that mean you like me, or is there something in your pocket?"
He started to get flustered. "You know, this is going a little too fast for me. After all, I just met you."
I stroked his cheek. "We can go slower if you want. What do you want to do?"
"Maybe we could just talk for a while."
As we got to know each other, I learned that he was a single accountant by the name of Donald Masters. He was always very polite and never spoke above a level where I could just barely hear him. We talked for hours, though that wasn't what I wanted to do. Men can be so frustrating sometimes. Just when I find Mr. Right, all he wants to do is talk. Fortunately, I mostly listened, though I couldn't stop my mind from drifting occasionally to other possibilities. I had a burning desire to see and feel his love muscle inside of me. I fantasized about how he would look naked, and I felt a ripple of anticipation as he reached down to straighten his equipment.
But when I was able to concentrate on what he was saying, I came to admire his driving intelligence. As the night drew to a close, he said that he had to go home. He seemed more confident then. When he asked me over to see his apartment the following evening, my heart danced with excitement. I gave him a hug and a hungry smile as he left. I could see the spark of eagerness in his eyes as he smiled back, and I knew he had real passion buried inside him. He just needed someone to bring it out.
The next day, I wore the sexiest outfit I could put together. A blouse that showed plenty of cleavage in the front and a tight skirt that showed some more cleavage in the rear. He'd prepared an excellent meal and we shared a nice bottle of red wine. By the time we had finished supper, I was ready to rip this guy's clothes off and rape him if necessary. But I restrained myself. I told myself that he made me feel good and I was glad to be with him even if we didn't make love.
He attentively asked, "Did you enjoy your meal?"
"Yesss." I moved closer to him on the couch so I could hear him better. Now his nearness was overwhelming. "That takes care of one hunger."
He smiled shyly. "I guess that I may as well admit that I have been thinking about you all day."
"Me too," I said as I put my hand on his thigh. As I started to rub the inside of his leg, he began to pitch a tent in his pants. "Oh you must be glad to see me this time. I know you don't have anything in your pocket. Why don't you give him some air? He needs to breathe."
"No, I can't do that. I'd be embarrassed."
"Just relax and let me do everything. I'll give you something to keep your accountant's pencil sharp." With that, I carefully unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear. He was blushing, but I continued in a matter-of-fact way as if it was an everyday occurrence. He was too mesmerized by my actions to offer any objection.
The shock of my discovery was written on my face as I inspected the most beautiful love-tool I had ever seen. It was a nice size, with a smooth round shaft and capped with a prominent, perfectly-shaped helmet. A luscious ladies' lollipop that looked so tasty that I just had to bend down and kiss the tip.
He flinched and blurted, "What are you doing?"
"Don't tell me you've never had a blow job."
"Well, actually... No, I never have had a woman touch my tally-whacker in any way."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I have only been with a few women and they never took much pleasure in sex. Generally, they just laid back and I did everything."
"No, are you serious with that word 'tally-whacker?' I haven't heard that term in a long time."
"Well, that's what my mom called it. I don't really talk about sex with anybody."
"Really, it's okay. That term is perfectly okay. It's just very archaic nowadays. I guess there was a time when that was the preferred term. It is really kind of sweet. You call it that any time you want."
He smiled bashfully. "I must admit that it was exciting to have someone like you kiss me that way."
"I can do a whole lot more. But maybe we're going too fast. Why don't we go to the bedroom and just lay down and talk for a while."
We went to his room and laid down in the 69 position. Our clothes remained on, but his dick was still hanging out. I decided to take charge. "Now Donald, I want you to tell me in as much detail as you can remember, everything you need to know to be a first rate tax accountant."
"Yes. Start from the beginning and tell me everything you know."
As he started rattling off volume after volume of tax code and standard operating procedures, I took his gorgeous piece of meat in my hands. I kissed it, pulled on it, wagged it back and forth, licked it like a popsicle, twisted it back and forth, sucked on it carefully, and generally played with it every way possible. This must have gone on for hours. I was surprised that none of my activity affected his concentration. He just continued regurgitating the vast quantities of information he'd absorbed through a lifetime of study. There was so much knowledge in him, I think it insulated him from his feelings and needs. Well, I was determined to fix that.
I thought since he had some previous "missionary position" girlfriends, we would start there. "Why don't we get out of these clothes and you can show me the way you made love to your previous girlfriends."
"Okay. Well first off, Betty, we need to turn out all the lights so we can get undressed."
I tried not to sound patronizing. He was fragile and would have to be brought along slowly. "Alright, I don't like to show off anyway. Besides, I've already seen your best part."
"Now, lay down on your back with your legs spread and be sure not to move. One of my girlfriends pulled her knee up just as I was diving into bed. She caught me in a very sensitive place and I was writhing around in agony for almost thirty minutes."
"Don't worry. I would never do anything like that. You probably shouldn't be diving, though. Take your time."
He nodded and climbed on top of me. Immediately, he started shoving it in and out at a furious pace. No foreplay, no warning, and not much pleasure for me. I didn't get mad because I was well aware that this kind of lovemaking was all that he knew. He may as well have been making love to one of those sex dolls. I was finally starting to get aroused and was just beginning to enjoy the sensation of his fabulous cock filling me up. Then suddenly, there was nothing, and a second later I heard a door slam. He had cum and dashed to the bathroom, cleaning up almost before I knew it was over. As he came out, I reached down to feel how much he had shot into me and there was nothing.
He saw me checking myself and said, "In case you're wondering, I always wear a pre-lubricated condom. It's no reflection on you, but you can't be too careful these days."
I nodded. "I understand completely. If we're going to be seeing each other for a while, maybe we should both get tested and show each other the results. I'm on the pill, so there's no chance of me getting pregnant. That way we can try new things. What do you think?"
"Sure, sounds like a plan to me."
During the next few months our intimacy grew. I showed him many new positions and, most importantly, I taught him how to please a woman. He wasn't really selfish; it's just that no one had ever told him what to do. He quickly became an expert pussy-licker. Each time we were together, he was expecting to be taught a new method of love-making and pleasure. Fortunately, I have a boundless imagination.
Our love-making sessions always started with some penis play. Just as he had that first time, he would rattle on about accounting while I played with his prick. I took special pleasure in nibbling and biting his shaft while he obliviously recited his tax codes. When he was concentrating on accounting, it was like he was in a trance. I could do anything to his cock and he was unaffected. Whether sucking it sweetly or biting it hard, he didn't seem to feel it.
But I came to realize something. Even though he was a good-looking guy with a pleasant disposition, he had the most boring personality I have ever encountered. His mind was like a computer print-out. Hour after hour, he would spout tax regulations like an idiot savant. Not once could I remember him laughing. He never surprised me with an interesting or original observation. There wasn't a spark of interest in music or anything, whether cultural or just plain fun.
But I didn't mind because I had fallen madly in love with his sweet-meat, his pocket-rocket, his schvontz. I was enraptured with that beautiful "tally-whacker," as he called it. His personality was like elevator music while I was engrossed with his adorable love-stick. I even went so far as to prepare some tax-related questions for him so he'd think I was paying attention. Besides, it was the only thing we could talk about.
Then, a day came when he entered my apartment with a glazed look of despair. I knew something was wrong and I was swallowed by a feeling of impending anguish. "What's the matter, Donald?"
He replied in a low, serious voice, "I'm going away. My company is re-locating me to Japan. I didn't really want to do it, but it includes a fat promotion. I can't refuse. When I get back, I'll be able to write my own ticket."
"How long will you be gone?"
"About five years."
I was overcome with bitterness and loss. Five years? He might as well have said, "Forever." My throat felt so tight, I could barely ask, "How long do we have before you go?"
"I'm leaving next week." His words seemed vicious and hurtful, though his intent was not. Torment greedily gnawed at my insides. I'd never been in love before. I'd never had my heart broken. Tears slowly found their way down my cheeks.
"I've got to run. I have to put my stuff in storage and get rid of my apartment before I go. We should get together one last time before I leave." He stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll call you. Bye." He was seemingly unmoved by my tears as he walked out the door.
As it closed behind him, I gulped hard, and then yielded to compulsive sobs. I wept aloud the rest of the night and throughout the next day. My mind finally started to work again by the third day. The realization came over me suddenly that I wouldn't really miss much about him. I was glad to be rid of his boring personality and his endless monologues on tax accounting. His good looks were not irreplaceable. There was only one thing about him that I could not live without. It was his beautiful cock that was the true object of my affection and I felt I would die without it.
The obsession I had with his dick haunted me night and day. The thought that I would be left with nothing but the memory of it was too painful. Then one night while I was surfing the net, I saw an interesting web-site. As I looked over the possibilities, a plan started to develop in my mind. I could think of nothing else for the next few days while Donald got ready for his trip to Japan and his fat promotion.
Donald was cool and relaxed as he came to see me for the last time before leaving for Japan. He entered the apartment without knocking and was greeted by silence and the dim light of a few candles. "Betty?" he called uncertainly. Then he saw me standing at the end of the hall. I was dressed in a long black satin dress that spread slightly as it touched the floor.
"Hello, my love," I said seductively.
"Betty, you look so different."
"Just for you, my love. I wanted to make this night very special."
"So do I. Why don't we go out to eat at the fanciest restaurant in town?"
"I'd hoped we could stay in. Are you hungry?"
"No, I'm not really that hungry."
"Me neither. At least, not for food." His ears turned red with embarrassment, but he grinned salaciously. I took his hand. "Why don't we go in the bedroom and lie down for a bit?"
"Okay. I am feeling a little tired. It's been a pain getting ready to go."
"Not too tired for some tax code, I hope? I'm just about ready to take my CPA exam."
"I'm never too tired for that."
I led him into the bedroom. "Good, I want you to tell me about asset removal and how that affects the overall tax situation."
"Sure. Should the asset have a salvage value?"
As I began helping him out of his clothes, I answered, "Oh yes, it has a big salvage value to me."
"Will the company's profit and loss statement be hurt by not having the asset?"
"Well, at first the company will suffer because of the asset forfeiture, but eventually they won't even remember having the asset. It will never be missed in the long run."
"Why is the company having the asset removed?"
"They didn't decide to remove it. It is more like repossession by another company who needs it more."
Now naked, he climbed onto the bed and laid down on his back, folding his hands on his stomach. He began as usual, spouting off regulation after regulation to handle every possible detail of asset removal. As he did, I slipped out of my gown and crawled between his thighs. As he rambled on, I played with his dick, getting it as hard as possible by sucking and licking. Once he was rock-hard, I began putting heavy duty rubber bands around the base of his cock. Each one squeezed it a little tighter and made the shaft and his beautiful helmet bulge out in all directions. At first it was very red with countless blood vessels standing out from his tight cock-skin. His dick looked like a balloon with too much air. I wondered if it would pop if I stuck a needle into it.
It started to turn purple as I sucked with wild abandon. His swollen head almost choked me as I deep throated his cock. Each time, I went deeper to stretch my throat muscles. As I got ever closer to the base of his manhood, the warmth of his flesh gave me a tingle of excitement in-between my legs. I reached my hand down to massage my now soaking wet pussy lips. I was getting close to an intense orgasm.
Donald continued with his tax code, ad nauseam. The pleasure was building within me as shivers of delight raced through my thighs and lower belly. Finally I forced my head all the way down his shaft. Resting my teeth at the base, just above the rubber bands, I couldn't help but notice how much smaller his cock was at this one point. The rubber bands were doing their job nicely.
I came like never before. A screaming orgasm. As my legs and entire body jerked and convulsed with the intense ecstasy I was feeling at that moment, my teeth came together like the jaws of a bear trap. Each jerk caused my teeth to dig deeper into Donald's compressed cock-flesh. I was swept away in a frenzy of lust, biting down with everything I had.
When Donald carried on about tax laws, he was so engrossed that he didn't even feel pain. But this time, he definitely felt it. "Aaaahh, my God! Stop! You're biting it! Stop! STOP BITING!!"
My teeth were just about through his shaft when he pushed my head back with as much force as he could. The few threads of flesh holding his cock were ripped free and I fell back off the bed with blood running down my chin and his cock still in my mouth.
"Aaahhheee! Look what you did to me! You bit off my tally-whacker! God Damit!"
"I'm so sorry, Donald! I was in the middle of cumming! I didn't know what I was doing! It was an accident! I swear." I don't know if he understood me. I never thought to spit his cock out.
"Noooo! Look what you did to me!"
"Donald, don't touch the rubber bands or you'll bleed to death! Get your clothes on fast and I'll take you to the ER! They can sew it back on! I promise! They can sew it back on!"
I ran into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. As I came back into the bedroom, I showed him how I had put his penis into a ziplock bag with some ice. He was almost ready to go.
As I drove him to the ER, I kept reminding him, "They'll sew it back on as good as new, Donald! Don't worry!" He had calmed down considerably by the time we got there. I sent him through the front doors, baggie in hand, while I drove around to park the car. But instead, I just drove home.
A friend of mine is an ER nurse in that hospital. She gave me the details later. Donald told them that an accident was the cause of his detached penis. They whisked him away to the operating room and started preparing him for micro-surgery. He was completely under when they pulled his penis from the plastic bag, only to find out that it was a carefully sculpted sausage. It had been made to look like Donald's penis by someone who knew every detail better than Donald himself. His real penis was still in my refrigerator, floating in a bottle of formalin.
The web site that I saw that fateful night was devoted to penis plastinazation. You just send it in with a payment and they take care of the rest. You get your intimate love toy back before you know it. I sent it in that very night with great anticipation.
Donald never told what really happened that night and I never saw him again. I guess he knew that any investigation would interrupt his trip to Japan and interfere with his long-anticipated promotion. I think he is happier concentrating on his accounting without sex as a distraction.
Now when I am feeling lonely, instead of putting on soft music, I put on some of Donald's tax code that I recorded before he left me. I lay back and play with my special love toy. It is amazing how little has changed since he left. If I want to use his dick for a dildo, sometimes I put on a pre-lubricated condom to remind me of him. You can't be too careful these days. Ha, ha, ha.