Give the Girl a Helping Hand Ch. 02

Smokey Saga #2: "Give The Girl A Helping Hand II: Stroke Of Brilliance"

***

Continued from part one...

"But, first," she said, "You have to do one more thing for me, please."

He waited.

"...What's that?"

She leaned up close to his ear and whispered, "I simply must see those gorgeous hands of yours in action for myself."

She smirked roguishly at him, rubbing him between the legs.

"Masturbate for me.

"Yes, my dear...it's your turn. I am dying to watch you jerk off." Her impish smile grew. "Please take out your cock and stroke it for me. If those two miracles of nature can do what they just did to me, I cannot wait to see what they can do to you."

***

August 17th, 11:24 p.m.

"Mmm..." she deeply inhaled the scent of her candle, eyes closed, lips pursed and curled into an exultant smile. Still adjusting to the miraculous events that had just taken place, she took her steps carefully to maintain her footing, hand on the wall for guiding and balance. Her vision was still somewhat blurry, and she wasn't sure when she would be able to totally refocus, but eyesight was the last on her mind. She was continuing to float on seventh heaven's cloud nine, and didn't want to ever come down.

Her body remained transfixed. In point of fact, at this moment, she felt no less than invincible. Everything—every touch, every sound, every smell—had been elevated to a higher plateau. The carpet seemed to be tickling the soles of her twitching, tingly feet as she glided over it. She could almost feel her fingertips crackling with the electricity in the walls. The gentle breeze of air conditioning caressing her sweat-moistened, radiant, glowing body...never felt so sensual.

It was dark, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. She giggled to herself in amusement at the sight of her irreparably tousled hair pasted to her forehead. She sniffled blissfully and pawed her eyes dry. Her breasts looked truly happy. My tits, happy? What a funny thought. Supple, glistening, calmly rising and lowering...she took her boobies in her hands, gave them a tender squeeze, and felt herself balloon up with joy and pride. Delight encompassed her face. Yes...happy, she thought. Truly happy.

The wick was burnt halfway down. Mentally reliving each jubilant moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in the candle again. She imagined herself prancing like a forest sprite through a beautiful, open meadow on a breezy day. Then she remembered what had led her to this moment, and modified her daydream. She imagined herself naked in her companion's strong masculine arms, barely conscious, lost in a daze, being figuratively and literally carried away through the meadow, as if floating in mid-air.

Her mind returned to reality. Candle in hand, she turned around to see him. She sauntered back and held it for him to smell.

"That's lovely," he remarked. "What is it?"

"Smoky maple," she whispered. "My favorite." She replaced it on the table, picked up the book of matches, and proceeded to relight it. "It's playful and innocent, and yet at the same time, wildly erotic and passionate..." As she described it, she dropped the matchbook, extracted the current CD from the player to insert another, turned back to him once again...slipped her arms around him...nuzzled his cheek with her nose...and whispered—

"Just like me."

He was still dressed in his shirt and suit trousers, now barefoot. She brushed against his front for another long, mesmerizing kiss. As she pulled him close, she felt him harden against her thigh. She smiled through the liplock. Excellent, she thought, becoming quickly exhilarated for the second time this momentous evening. Hearing him also responding to the quickly swelling erection with a soft moan, she knew it was time to get the next movement of her symphony underway.

She took his hands. She felt the same rush again in contact with these two captivating creations, refamiliarizing herself with the marvel to whom they belonged. She took him back to the bed again and sat him down, just as she had upon his arrival.

She drank in another long gaze at his pianist paws. Unable to adequately express her devotion, she slowly shook her head, letting herself fawn. After another few moments she barely audibly mouthed the words, "I love you."

She worked up the energy to release his hands, and lowered him onto the bed on his back, just as with herself. She reached for his shirt, undoing the buttons. When she finished, she smoothed her hands inside, combing his chest hair. Very soft it felt, she thought. He removed the shirt. It floated soundlessly to the floor. Again feeling her anticipation escalate, she next unbuttoned his slacks. He was becoming fully stiff, she could see. She excitedly fondled him through the fabric, slowly sliding down the zipper. He shut his eyes, taking in a deep pleasured breath. She smiled at him, a smile of simultaneous warmth and mischief.

She patted his ass, wordlessly ordering him to lift. He obeyed, and she hooked her fingers between his trousers and waist.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

Green light, she thought, her smile growing to its widest. Trying not to seem too overanxious, she nonetheless very eagerly slid his pants and unders down, tug by tug. She could feel her heart pounding. Gulp. Finally, she gave them a light pull that brought them to his thighs. As he lowered back down, his manhood was unleashed. His completely stiff cock sprang to an erect pose, instantaneously standing at attention perpendicular to his body, at which second her eyes popped wide open and her eyebrows themselves jumped.

For a few seconds, she did nothing but stare, blinking repeatedly. She had seen erections before, but never had one of such proportion launched from its holster upon release, to say nothing of its sheer force. She was almost frightened by its dynamism.

"Am I allowed to see you?"

She said nothing, both hungry eyes glued to his sumptuous, delicious-looking dick. She thought he said something, but didn't hear it. Her mouth hung ajar, beginning to water.

"A—...am I...am I allowed to see you?" he repeated a bit louder.

Finally, she cluelessly looked up. "W-what did you say? I'm so sorry, I...I..."

He asked her the question a third time. She attempted to collect herself and regain composure, wishing to maintain her authority.

"Your choice, lovely."

It was not a difficult choice to make. "But," she stipulated, standing from the bed and retrieving the handcuffs where they'd ended up on the floor, "...I am placing you under arrest, sweetheart. No choice there." She stood looking at him with a seductive expression on her face, letting the cuffs dangle provocatively from her fingers.

He looked confused. "But, then, how will I—?" he started to ask.

"Not your right hand. I'm doing your feet and your left hand, but your right stays free. Because you are gonna jack off for me."

He stared a moment. "...How could you tell I'm right-handed?"

She flashed him her tight-lipped smile. "You're a pianist. I told you, I can tell everything I need to know about you by looking at your hands. And the way you played me so masterfully just confirmed it."

Her answer was sufficient. She removed the trousers completely from his legs, let them drop to the floor, and did as she explained. So that it was now he who was nude and shackled spread eagle on the bed. The bedsheet was very creased and wrinkled, bearing an impression of her body, into which he comfortably sank.

"Do you want me to start now?" he inquired when she finished.

She hopped up. "Not quite yet," she said. She opened the top drawer of the bureau next to the bed, and removed a small bottle.

"What's that?"

She climbed up onto the bed between his legs and perched herself down, showing him. "Well, we do want this to be as heavenly as possible for you, my angel. A little warm lubrication goes a long long way."

"Heat lotion?" he asked, reading the label.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "But, before we use this, I wanna lube you up a little myself." She smiled at him, then at his penis. She slid her legs back behind her, plopped down on her tummy, and took him in her hands. Salivating in her mouth, she ran her tongue up his shaft, from base to glans. He rolled his head back on the pillow at the already warm sensation, just as she had earlier. Her nipples tingled. She licked him up and down the sides, around the head, the balls, the base, top to bottom.

"Almost done," she told him. "But before I let you stroke yourself, I'm gonna need to be certain all preparation's been made."

With that, she slipped his dick into her mouth and closed her lips. His reaction of twisting and writhing about the bed much as his restraints would allow signaled vast approval. She took it slowly down to her throat and back again, once, twice, three times, taking care to pay special attention to the extra sensitive spot just below the head.

He let out a loud, loving moan. She coyly blushed, accepting it as the compliment it was. He continued to writhe like a fish. She noticed with surprise that his gorgeous hands had clenched into fists and that his muscles were tightly flexed. She softly ceased the fellatio and looked behind her to see his legs and feet also tensely twitching.

He could not see her face, his head lolled back on the pillow. She pictured herself in his position, as she'd just been a short time ago. How thrilling to be at his mercy, to have relinquished all control, to have allowed herself to be dominated...controlled...taken over. To have allowed him to consume her, to have her in the palm of his hand. How exhilarating it had felt to have surrendered her body, to be helplessly haunted and taunted by the lure of submission.

Now he's in that position, she delightfully assessed.

Something jumped in her mind. Before she knew it, she felt herself grinning again. The corners of her mouth curled upwards and her cheekbones rose. She was suddenly filled to the brim with girlish glee, at a wonderful new feeling she had not noticed before.

That she was in control. That it was she who now held the power. He was bound to the bed at her mercy. This perception of superiority and dominance, she found, was intensely lighting her fire. It was amazing. What intrigue this held for her! To this point she'd had no familiarity with the concept of being in charge, sexually and dominantly. She had given him instructions, but in and of the act itself, it was she who had first fallen to her knees and given herself over, as slave to her master.

She was so fascinated, to say nothing of being enthusiastically aroused. Here was a man, immobile, shackled down on his back, legs spread. Forced to remain in her custody! And his beautiful reddened cock, standing directly up in the air for her, at a perfect right angle from his body. His lovely dick is worshiping me, she thought with amusement. She had him giving himself over to her, to do as she pleased. So this is how it feels to be a mistress. Or a dominatrix. She was liking this. She knew she would have to explore this newly discovered interest in more depth.

In the meantime, she already had the immediate agenda laid out for her. She was looking much more forward to this at the moment. And she simply could not disappoint him after the bountiful utopian trip he'd just sent her on.

She tenderly, adoringly caressed his manhood with the back of her hand. Then she picked up the lotion, delicately climbed off the bed and meandered to his side, letting her fingernails lightly graze his leg up to the thigh. She scooted a floor-fallen pillow to the bedside with her foot. She then knelt on the pillow and whispered in his ear—

"It's time."

He turned his head to face her. She smiled and nodded charmingly, taking his hand palm up and dispensing a small dose of lotion.

He looked down. It felt very warm.

"And, you're all ready?" he asked her.

"Perfectly, darling," she responded, gesturing to herself. "I'm in the perfect position, you see? From right here I can caress you, I can kiss you, I can tickle your balls, I can do any number of other nice and naughty things to you. And this is also an ideal perspective for me to watch you pleasure yourself." She reached over and fondled him one more time.

"And best of all," she concluded, holding up and squeezing her breasts for him to see, "With me right here, you have a great view of my lovely tits while you're stroking your lovely cock." She kissed his cheek. "See? Everybody wins!"

He smiled at her, and she him, softly running her fingers through his hair with one hand and patting his free arm with the other.

The next peck she laid upon him was on the forehead. "Okay, maestro," she said, lowly and seductively. She again turned strict and authoritative, motioning for him to begin. "Hand on your dick."

He took a deep, preparatory breath, and applied the lotion. Within four seconds, he gasped. "Oh, is that warm!" he exclaimed.

"That's why they call it heat lotion, babe," she purred, settling down for a good show. She picked up the remote to the CD player, which sat on the bureau. She had the disc all cued up.

"I'll be your conductor," she announced. She held up an invisible baton and waved it in the air as she counted, "One, two, three, four!" As she hit "four," she pressed the play button on the remote. Upbeat classical music began emanating from the CD player.

As she was doing this, he achieved satisfaction with the lubing, so he gave his fingers a flex, fastened his hand around his dick, made a few slight adjustments in finger positioning for best results, and began to stroke.

She concentrated as she watched. She paid careful attention to where exactly he placed his fingers and the relationship between. She noted his index and middle were parallel and adjacent, right under the head of his penis, his ring finger and pinkie occupying the more reserved area halfway down the side. She couldn't help but be curious about the finger placement...but she was curious about everything as he jerked for her. What did it feel like to have a penis? How did it feel to wank off with it? Somewhat similar to fingering herself in a way, she would've had to think. Speaking of which, she thought, How does it feel inside a woman's pussy?

Like many women, she absolutely loved the penis. She wasn't sure if she loved it the same way as hands, to the same degree or parameters, but she adored it. She viewed it as a wonder-filled, awe-inspiring creation. She was wowed by the way it just grew and grew when it was happy. She remembered the first time she learned it was blood that makes the cock swell. Where does the blood come from? she'd wanted to know. How much blood does there have to be to fill his cock? And does the man control that?

After she learned that, it made sense when she saw a dick blush as it stood erect. But what she thought about most right now was what he was feeling, what sort of celestial sensations must be flying through his mind and body...thinking about it gave her that tingle inside she enjoyed so much. How it really felt for him was not quite so different from how it felt for her when he had slipped his fingers inside her pussy. He too felt as if he were floating through subspace and riding a cloud above and beyond. She found herself wishing she had a dick just so she could compare this to a female orgasm. She was so intrigued.

He would emit a pleasurable moan each few moments he entertained her. She thought of another wonderful question. What does the buildup feel like? One of the things she loved about her own hormones and her body's sexual makeup was that the build was unpredictable whenever she experienced a sexual high. Sometimes it would steadily jump to the point of climax, sometimes rise and fall, sometimes remain constant and then slowly ascend. She wondered which, if any of these, he was experiencing. She also wondered if it were the same type of buildup for most men, or if all were different. And what if he was experiencing a sort of ascent of libido that she'd never felt or thought of before?? What was that like?!

She kept her eyes glued. The music played on. He was going pretty quickly, she thought, especially for something like this...but then she thought, oh, of course! He's a musician; he's keeping in tempo with the music. Another query that crossed her mind—did all men jack off at the same speed? Just him? Some faster than others? How many strokes per minute? It looked to her even faster than a human heart. She continued studying his manual dexterity and the pattern of his stroke. It looked like the same pattern over and over, for the most part. The same, she thought, but no less captivating.

It appeared now and then almost painful, as if he were strangling his penis, squeezing extra forcefully. But he was still groaning with passion, she figured, so it couldn't have been very agonizing. Then she wondered if maybe she wasn't confusing this with the throbbing, the hot pulsation of the cock when engaged in sex. She didn't know what caused the throbbing, but it made her engine roar like a lion. She felt the desire to suck it again. Then his legs clenched, his feet flexed, just as they had when she prepped him. At last, she thought, one thing she could relate to. She clenched and flexed just the same in the throes of passion herself.

She was so entranced, she barely moved. She didn't kiss him, she didn't caress him, she didn't tickle his balls. And as he stared at her breasts, leaning his head to tongue her nipple, she hardly noticed. Her mind just carried on asking more compelling questions. How long does he jerk before the orgasm? Is that another thing that's different from one guy to another? How does he feel when he's about to cum? What does it feel like when he cums? How does he feel after he cums? She wondered how many of these questions would have analogous answers if applied to her. How does it feel when you play with his balls? Does he like that? Does he—

Oh! she thought. I can find that out right now! She had forgotten all about the naughty and nice things she wanted to do while he stroked himself. She saw that as he was hard, his balls drew up and seemed to tighten up to the base of his dick. She wondered why that happened, and why...oh, gosh! she thought. Stop asking questions and just enjoy it!

She had the opportunity, and seized it. Cautiously, she reached out, around his own hand jerking himself, between the legs, and let her nails gingerly graze across the skin of his balls. She wasn't prepared for the reaction this got. At her touch, he arched his back and let out a loud gasp, followed by a low moan. She was startled. She wasn't certain if he liked it, until he said, "Oh, God, yes!..."

The word "yes!" and the enthusiasm therein totally psyched her. She automatically started playing with them more energetically, and it was thrilling him, she could tell. She was pumped now—wildly jazzed. She could not stop herself. She jumped up and hastened back to the foot of the bed between his legs to catch his feedback from this angle. She kept toying with the balls, evoking similar and even better responses. She began to get that rush of excitement from being in charge again, able to make her playmate feel and react any way she liked, whenever she liked.