Precision Solutions

[An Account from the PRISM Chronicles] Part 8

A Personal Note

My name is Jonathan Stone. Yes, I've written a number of sensuous accounts under the PRISM Designs tag, and most of those have their origin in my personal experiences. I've rarely hinted at what I'm like, but I'm going to do so this time. I've been strongly encouraged by my best friend whom I'll describe shortly. She's convinced that it will make unusual and erotic reading.

I have a sister, Erryne, who is a lot like me. Neither of us knows much about our parents other than a few erotic memories that, remarkably for such situations, are pleasing and delicious. Erryne is Japanese; our parents adopted her at a younger age and were overjoyed ever since. All I remember about her is that she was crabby when we first met but we learned to smooth out things later. She and I got along well but separated when we went off to college.

Like a fool, I lost contact with her and now I can't locate her even if someone gave me a fortune to do so. I'll probably have to hire a PI in order to do this thing right. Guess I will at sometime in the near future.

I'm a bit over six feet in height and weigh in at around 180 pounds, have a strong build from years of hard work and exercise, and enjoy a few other assets that are uncommon to men such as I.

My heritage is Cajun with some mixture of other strains that only my Creator knows. I have green eyes, auburn hair, something that is uncommon for men, and it's very dense, very long...it falls to my waist, and it has those delicious waves that women often want. I have this because my mother at some point was part of a group that believed sons ought to never have their hair cut...some kind of dedication rite, I suppose.

Anyhow, I really enjoy it, and it stimulates me sexually to no end. It is extremely heavy, it curls about my face, and often out in public when I'm wearing it long, I become aroused and.... Well, that's a delicious little problem that I enjoy.

Because of the color of my hair, my body is smooth for the most part. I dislike facial hair, and in my teens I finally decided to shave everything, underarms, legs, all of me except an oval patch of shiny auburn grass just above my shaft to accentuate its pleasantly increasing size. The fur has continued to thicken until now it's a dense, crisp mound that that protrudes noticeably above my cock. I carefully trim it as I caress myself. These sorts of personal acts arouse me to considerable heat.

When I was in college studying engineering at Louisiana State University I took a year off to do something that always intrigued me and seemed heroically erotic; I had a medium-thickness gold ring inserted into the mouth of my cock.

In the immortal words of Clint Eastwood, "It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

Anybody who believes that is easy is crazy. My specialist at Pandora's Heavy Metal told me that it would take at least three months for my stem and my system to become adjusted, and six months or longer for it to become a natural-feeling part of me. Because I was young, I was in college, and they know everything! I went ahead. She did, too, and for the next several months I alternately cursed and complimented myself. More cursing than complimenting.

When I'd passed the acid test and my shaft had healed, Pandora called me in for what I believed was a specialist-client conference. Oh, did I ever get one of my life's more pleasant and memorable surprises! More on Pandora Brennan shortly.

I reflect on this masterful procedure now and wonder if I was finally getting the college guy out of my system or if I am deeply flawed in some nutty but erotic fashion. Anyway...finally I could enjoy the appearance and delicate stimulating weight of my ring and the delicious, heavy creation in which it's mounted.

During the following summer I made several trips to Caribbean islands and American vacation spots where I could be nude and enjoy it.

I've been blessed with good genes that have produced an attractive body, and something else. Sometime along the way I developed a glandular condition known as something-or-other technical, one day I'll get it right. It's an enlargement of a male's breasts that sometimes departs with time, and sometimes it remains. My mother wanted me to accept it and learn to enjoy it as normal for me, so I went along. I'm not saying it was easy...just that I went along with her wishes.

That took some doing and a considerable amount of hiding, but you do what you have to do. As an adult now I'm thankful I allowed things to continue. I now have a shapely, prominent pair of breasts with firm nipples that are quite plump and are extremely sensitive. My boobs are large enough yet sufficiently firm to jiggle in a most erotic way. And yes, I remember very well that famous statement of guys when they see a majestic chest on a girl..."Man! If I had those babies, I'd play with myself all...the...time!"

All right, I enjoy them often. So? I know, I'm on a silly jag.

To enjoy a seriously nice cleavage as I do is quite unusual. In the beginning I tried foregoing the usual support underwear because my muscles are firm enough to support my breasts. I do get some stimulating stares when I wear my shirt somewhat unbuttoned because my breasts and nipples are easily visible, and I enjoy the sensation. After a time I gave up on that because, though my doctor cannot explain it, my breasts continue to enlarge slightly but definitely. They really do present a striking and extremely erotic view.

When I work out in only shorts and flat-soled, Velcro-strapped shoes, I really get the stares...and glares. At times my means of avoiding some of this crap is to wear a racer top with no support beneath it. Yes, my nipples get hard and swell so much that it makes me hot. Or I surrender and wear a filmy, transparent bra. Best I can do.

And then there are those times when I give in to my urges and simply go without a top working out, washing my truck or doing some other type of labor just to show off my gorgeous tits! Given my physical condition, I rarely get anything but admiring looks and one or two smart-ass remarks. Those people are usually jealous.

Charlotte Bennett, my physician of years, finally remarked with an irritated tone during my most recent exam, "Look, Jon, you're one of only a very few men with this physical problem...or pleasure...depending on how you view it. Frankly, you are the most attractive, sensuous man I've ever met. You are too damned attractive for your own good...you're well-shaped, almost beautiful with your face and that mass of auburn hair and your smooth skin, yet there's an aura about you that warns off people.

"There's something about you that most men want...an air of well-governed threat...but with you it's a natural quality. I've never seen this before. You should enjoy your health and strength, get aroused with that hair, those lovely tits, and that cock most people would kill to have, and go have some other problems. But never this. Hell, come down off your horse and wear a sexy bra if you have to. Take care of those babies!

"Damn, Jonathan! If I weren't happily married, forty-five years old to your thirty-four, and have two wonderful kids, I'd chase you till you dropped!"

She smiled broadly yet had a light in her eyes that said she was not joking about her corrective compliment. She's a real professional, but she caught me off guard when she stepped over to me and kissed me lightly.

"Okay, buddy boy, 'nuff sed. Let's get on with blood pressure, prostate checks and the other business." And we did.

Guys are simply not my interest, but I definitely get attention from that side of the house. Ladies seem interested, enough so to pursue things with me, some in delicate and classy ways, and some like those drivers of B-train rigs on Canada's Highway 401...sheer, raw goofiness.

I'm thirty-four as Charlotte remarked and while I've had several most memorable and beautiful experiences with women whom I could never forget, the secret of my heart is that I'm in love with my sister and would give anything to find her and rebuild our relationship.

Pandora's Box

This is the right and very pleasing time to describe more about my close and thoroughly enjoyable relationship with Pandora Brennan.

She called me one day and made arrangements for me to go to her other office, something she called Pandora's Box. When I arrived, she ushered me into her attractive office for an intimate and very sensuous conversation.

"Jonathan, you are a special man to me. I have no other male clients who are frankly as beautiful as you. During the time we've known each other and I've enjoyed the very arousing work you've asked me to do on that gorgeous gift between your thighs, I've sized you up; you don't have the remotest idea of just how you look to others and the impression you leave behind.

"In addition, because you cast such a sensuous shadow, you require some assistance with how to maximize your appeal. Without your request, I'm present` to fulfill that desperate need of yours...," and here she couldn't suppress her broadening smile or the wolfish expression creeping over her face.

"Ah, Pandora, are you telling me that I need some help with the way I look and act around others?"

"Yep. That's what I mean. So, here's what we're going to do. My husband and I have a cabin up at the lake. There are neighbors who live nearby, and that's part of what I wat to show you as well. I'm something of an exhibitionist; I'm going to help you with that. In short, you and I are going to spend several days at our home by the lake. My husband doesn't mind...Brent is well aware of my rather sensuous enjoyments, and he doesn't even object to my lover, Emily Rhodes."

"All right, Pandora. What do I need to get for this trip?"

"We'll go in my Hyundai Genesis. Leave your truck here; I'll take you by your place so you can get a week's worth of clothes and the personal items you want."

We did these things, then she set out for her cabin by the lake. I was really tired, so I dozed in the Genesis' remarkably comfortable seat. In two hours we were there.

The weather was warm, all those woods sounds were raging around us, and Pandora set out two lounges on her deck. The mélange of scents, jasmine, honeysuckle and lilac, hovered pleasantly over us like some erotic invisible cloud. She poured two glasses of hard lemonade since she was taking a prescription that forbade any use of alcohol.

I grinned sheepishly at the subtly attractive woman who was more of a friend than I understood at the time.

"Jonathan," she said as she casually removed the colorful blouse that went so well with her deliciously tight shorts, "you are a perfectly stunning man. With your one-in-three-million mass of auburn hair, its highly unusual length, your well-toned body, and that Thanksgiving dinner of a cock sporting my best gold ring, you appeal to women, men, young people...hell, dear man, even the cat out on the fence wants a date with you!"

"Pandora," I began in a shabby effort to say something intelligent, "you're sitting there topless with such a lovely chest and...." The lady broke in.

"Stop it Jonathan! I've got a small but pretty chest, my best assets are my arms, legs, and pussy with its own jewelry...," and here she motioned between her legs, "...so stop it. We're here for you.

"You have absolutely perfect breasts and nipples in a very delicious female sense. I'd try to get you to let me put rings in those luscious fat nipples, but that would be grossly unfair to you, even though I'd get to play with you for a couple of sweet hours. The image you present in anything tight is so erotic...it simply invites somebody to arousal. Lord! ...those big boobs and your nipples stick out better than most women's I know...sheeesh!

"You've got a strange feminine-mixed-with-something-else-extremely-erotic-yet-powerful attraction, and men are going to want you as well as women."

"Really?" I asked. As I remarked before, I'm not pointed in that direction.

"Oh, stop it! I know of five of my finest specimens who's happily spend a year with you. The women, poor things, are like me...we've got the hots for you and we number an uncountable mass!"

I'm not sure what I ought to say to that, so for one of a few times in my life I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of trouble.

"I want to do some work with your hair. I want give you some tips on how to care for it like the gold in Fort Knox because it's not difficult, it's actually a sensuous process for you and me, and you'll enjoy that heavenly mane for your lifetime."

She spent the next two hours washing my hair, drying it, brushing it until it shone and the waves were more pronounced. "Oh, Lord, you're beautiful, Jonathan," she remarked, then she went back to trimming the ends to ensure its continued growth.

Someone messing with my hair always makes me drowsy, but that didn't last long. "Okay, my star performer, get up, please, and undress for me."

"Huh?"

"Jonathan, that's not hard to do...take your clothes off. Right here. See that full length mirror I'm going to roll out onto the deck? That's for you."

"But people will see me," I believe I whined as I looked around, noticing several neighbors on their decks who were casually observing our circus.

"So? They've seen everything I've got with no complaints yet. Emily and I had an incredibly hot weekend together, they even took pictures of us. I'm used to nudity; you get used to it, too, buddy boy. Now take your clothes off."

After a lecture like that from 'mother' I ditched the clothes but still felt like a skinned chicken rather than some icon of male sexuality.

"Come over here," she directed with a broad smile. Look at yourself. I'll pose you and tell you what you see. There's a man so unusually beautiful that he calls attention to himself regardless of where he is. Your lovely auburn...what it is? A mane? Tresses? For heaven's sake, Jonathan, you remind me of some luscious male Rapunzel. I'm trying to be professional, but in reality I just want to screw you within an inch of your life!"

This time I managed to open my mouth before this sensuous stylist-intimate jeweler-special friend and sexpot ordered, "Quiet, Jonathan! I like you better that way."

"You have a body to dine on year-round. Look at your breasts, Jonathan Stone. God, if I only had half the chest you have and a good dildo I'd spend a year making love to myself."

"I'll be happy to help," I offered before I withered under her gray-eyed glare.

"Your mother did you a marvelous favor when she encouraged you to let your swelling breasts alone. They are still slowly growing, aren't they?" I nodded.

"Your nipples are such a pretty color...a very dark brown; getting longer...they're swelling, also, aren't they?" Again I agreed. "It's a really unusual phenomenon that some women enjoy; specialists contend that man can have it, too, but you're the only one I know who does. And yours are ideal.

"What an absolutely perfect rack you've got my boy! Now, turn sideways and stand up straight. Right! See how your breasts press out even farther? That is what you are going to continue doing. Straighten up and fly right, Jonathan. If you don't follow orders, I'll remind you even in the middle of a speech. Understand?"

Pandora allowed me no clothing as we went inside to her computer where she introduced me to the most remarkable, explicitly and beautifully erotic website I'd seen. It was theBeautifulPRISM.com and it had so many stunning photos of...well, everyone in every place. They were all engaged in apparently uninhibited public activities of the most arousing, stimulating erotic sorts.

She escorted me through panels of public intimacy, male and female erotica, perfectly stunning men of great beauty, intimate photos of shemale subjects doing delicious things before a watching world, erotically dressed woman in meetings, men engaged in memorable intimacy alone and with other men, and women doing more things than I knew were possible.

Finally, Pandora found a file of erotic clothing for men and women. She located two pages of crisp, well-done pictures of men, women and young people wearing shortie or half-tops. She pointed and said, "This, Jonathan, is what I have for you to try on. With boobs like yours, whenever you can get away with it, you need to wear tops like this that hang from those perfect nipples or are just a little too short to cover your breasts."

My personal coach opened a box of six tops that fit me perfectly and were hemmed rather than cut off. One was heavy cotton like what you'd have in a sweatshirt. In spite of its thickness, it showed off my breasts to perfection. The second was a thin see-through affair that displayed my breasts completely, nothing hidden; neither it nor the first one had any buttons or openings.

Another was a soft cotton with one button at the neck; the rest of the short top was open to show off my tits to any observer. Selection four was a long sleeve half top of tight, navy blue ribbed fabric that clung to every line of my chest. I knew that if I wore that anywhere I'd get arrested even if I was provably a man. It was so tight and short that my nipples were fully exposed, so of course a good portion of my breasts were, too; it wasn't even designed to conceal my assets.

The fifth creation from PRISM Designs was a sleeveless, soft gray slightly clingy affair that caressed my breasts and showed their soft outlines through the arm holes as well as from outside while not being skin-tight. Her last offering was a short top of the same flimsy fabric but with long sleeves.

"Pick one, Jonathan. You're going to wear it today, and we are going out shopping."

I chose the fourth, most risqué selection and carefully pulled it over my head, much to Pandora's pleasure. Once I got it positioned correctly the sensation and sight of it aroused me...I was so hot. It was soft, comfortable, and bared my nipples and enough breast to guarantee the full attention of any onlooker. I could hardly keep my hands off myself.

"Remember, dear Jonathan, you're all man, oh, Lord, are you all man, but you want to show off those gorgeous big tits and nipples. And you'll get a million stares, but you won't get arrested. After all, you're a guy. People won't really know what to make of you, and that could be an asset."

Pandora had an absolutely hungry look on her face as she said this.

"Now, on to underwear. There'll be times when you must choose boxer or jockey-type shorts, but I'm introducing you to an array of very small bikinis that are so well designed and soft yet strong, they'll contain your beauty down here," and for the first time, Pandora touched my shaft. Her audacity was pleasing to me, and I could tell she enjoyed it. I tried on a variety of designs in subdued colors with pouches that fitted me exactly and accentuated my gifts quite nicely.

The one that aroused me most was a tight, white, semi-opaque piece that held me gently and very closely, suspended slightly by a gold ring from a white elastic waistband in front and passed comfortably as a thin connector between my legs to meet the waistband in back. Its construction caused my shaft to curve downward while pressing it and my balls forward in a sensuous mass. You could also see the clear outline of my ring. I knew I'd order multiples of this beauty.

"Make friends with PRISM Designs, Jonathan. I want you to enjoy the sensuous thrills of the erotica in each part of their website. And, I'm going to photograph you sometime this week. I'm sending them to a friend at PRISM, someone who wants very much to see your pictures, nude, clothed, and engaged in...ah, shall I say...casual delights. And all of this hopefully with me!" she added brightly.