So Many Parameters - Custom Bras

Then, after some seconds of studying his crotch, she asked very shyly, tentatively, "Would you mind if I looked at your body more closely? Perhaps even touching a little, like you did with me? Would that be okay? We can modify our experimental design to include it!"

It was okay with him: she exercised the permission fully, using eyes and fingertips only. "Kevin, I know that this very interesting erection of yours..." Here she grew bold and twanged his hard-on several times, giggling up at him all the while. "...which is the very first such a one that I have ever seen or touched in person... I know it means you are sexually aroused. But I find it very strange indeed that it is my body that causes this. Or is there some other reason for the phenomenon?"

Kevin shook his head: "It is entirely your fault, Madam! Women generally do not understand precisely what arouses a man -- and often, an aroused man is hard put to explain with any accuracy exactly what turned him on. But this particular erection I fully understand, and I guarantee that it is entirely your doing!"

Then, trying to allay any unspoken but quite predictable worries, he told her "Believe me, it does not mean that you have to do anything about it. Unsatisfied or unrequited sexual lust can be most upsetting but it is never fatal. At least, not in humans!"

She reddened spectacularly, muttered "Thank you for being so nice and understanding! Perhaps we should get into the shower now?"

The shower was large, but still close-quarters for two: it enforced extensive body contact. She accepted his offer of a shampoo, and objected not at all when, standing close behind her, he made use of the excess slippery soapsuds to wash her breasts -- with lavish attention to thoroughness and detail.

His mouth did get involved again shortly thereafter, because (so he explained) it was the ideal instrument for testing to be sure the soap was completely rinsed away. She was happy to discover that his tongue slithering along the under-crease was almost as exciting as it was on her nipples themselves. Plus he paid ridiculously close mouth-and-tongue attention to her armpits, which --again to her surprise -- turned out to be particularly sensitive and in a most delightful way.

He paid almost (not quite!) equal attention to her thighs and feet and calves, but was most gentlemanly and discreet about her mid-body -- very circumspect indeed. He made no attempt to touch her crotch, although he would have loved to do so and lived in hope -- thus far unfulfilled- of at least a tacit invitation.

She followed his lead point for point, telling him repeatedly enroute just how much fun she was having, how wonderful it was of him to have insisted they go ahead with this adventure.

Drying one another was a sensuous delight -- because of the clear respect he had shown for her personal sensitivities, she could relax and enjoy every moment of it -- even encouraging him to dry her bottom and crotch so long as his hands were covered with the thick terrycloth thus avoiding actual touching, once again an unvoiced condition that he obviously understood perfectly.

As they finished drying, he asked if she would like a massage -- a serious whole-body massage. He would be delighted to provide, he loved doing them. It was a gamble on his part, and she responded with unexpected enthusiasm.

"That would be another first for me, Kevin. I have never had a massage, much less from a man. A wonderful idea! I have a bottle of olive oil for cooking -- would that do? Lots of women use it on their skin, so I'm sure it would be alright. And of course we will need a big towel -- oil on the sheets is not a good idea, don't you agree?"

When Kevin agreed wholeheartedly on bed and towel and oil, she led him to the kitchen: her breasts swayed delightfully as she moved, and once again she noticed him studying them and shook her head, then her shoulders so that her boobs almost shimmied at him. "Even now, after this whole evening so far, even NOW after all your examples and explanations and demonstrations, I really, truly have no idea what is so fascinating to you about these breasts of mine. But if they meet your needs, your specifications for attractiveness, well then I shall declare myself happy. Quite happy!"

She reached for the oil, took him back to the bedroom, extracted a huge beach towel from the closet, spread it across the bed. "I assume you will want me on my belly to begin?"

He agreed -- it would be the best way to start, they could adjust as needed. As she lay down, she eyed his still-hard cock and said with a gentle shake of her head, "Does it ever get soft? Surely it isn't that way ALL the time -- you couldn't wear trousers!"

He again made it bounce, took it in hand and pointed it at her, said "You honor, it's all HER FAULT!"

She giggled, said "You are a very silly man, Kevin!", then buried her face in her arms, looked out sideways at him with one eye only, and said quietly "I like the way you seem to be having FUN with my body, and with this whole situation. You do not take things more seriously than they deserve. And you are not pushy, either. That is very nice!"

She buried her face in the pillow again, leaving to him the choice and execution of any next step.

Kevin knelt beside her, began at the nape. He was experienced, his hands were large and strong. She relaxed gradually beneath his touch as he worked slowly southwards down her upper back and shoulders. At the top of her pelvis he made it clear by motions instead of words that his hands were going to bypass much of her buttocks, staying well clear of the centerline crevasse.

He worked the sides of her hips thoroughly, then slowly down the outside verges of her hips As his activity shifted locus, she sensed when he needed better access to the insides of her thighs and knees and calves, so she wordlessly, on her own initiative, shifted her bottom, spread her feet apart significantly wider than really necessary.

He knew that SHE knew perfectly well what his view was, and his brazen erection hardened even more as he scanned the full length of her slit. She had put real skill and effort into the shave -- no trace of hair remained: none! A difficult feat usually requiring barbering by a partner, seldom done so well solo. He complimented her on it - embarrassed, she stayed face-down, snorted in answer.

When her feet were tingling and rosy, from his position kneeling over them he suggested that she roll over so he could do her front. After a moment's hesitation, she did so, tucking a wad of towel under her head so that she could see him clearly, right down her midline like a gun-barrel, in between her side-hanging boobs.

More oil, hard, careful, deep pressures, working north, bypassing her pudendum but working her hips and abs to its very edge, all the while holding her body between his wide-spread knees, his cock eternally erect, now glistening with a casual coating of oil.

Once, and only once, he stroked the very top of her mons with a fingertip, grinned at her as she blinked into wide-eyed alert mode: he said "Just thought I should tell you that your naked pussy is simply gorgeous! That's all."

She said nothing, just turned pink in the face and upper chest, then relaxed again as he went back to work just above the points of her hips, delicately moving north this time.

His hands worked upwards to her floating ribs, then beyond, first to the bottom of her breasts, then fully cupping them in his oily hands, with palming and slow-pinching of hardened nipples and areolas.

At first, she cycled from eyes-closed relaxation, to unexpected erotic delight, to worrying and uncertainty about next steps. But quickly all those disappeared into pure sensuality while he lavished attention on breasts and armpits. There he stayed for many minutes, frequently doing unexpected little things to make her shiver urgently.

Eyes closed, luxuriating, she studied how he touched her breasts -- the touches had certainly BEGUN as massage, but it was now completely unclear whether it was caressing or massaging, whether he'd crossed the line between massage and fondling.

She consciously studied that question, decided that the answer didn't really matter because she was enjoying herself so much-- and when he leaned forward, again in slow motion, and in turn drew each nipple far back into his mouth and massaged it against his palate with his tongue, she was certain that she had never, ever, felt anything more simultaneously soothing and exciting and sensual.

In fact, he was making love to her boobs, she finally decided through a haze of sensations that were occasionally so intense that it was hard to know whether or not she had come -- if not, then it was a very near thing indeed. For whatever reason, Kevin was clearly deeply attracted to her chest -- so, "mirabile dictu!" and she should accept this as an example of the universe's occasional largesse!

After a long indulgence in the form of deep, sensuous nursing, he released her tit from his mouth, lifted his head, shifted so that their eyes were on the same plane, their faces quite close. He was wondering whether she was expecting him to kiss her -- not a bad thought at all from his viewpoint. But she tightened up visibly and forestalled it.

"Kevin," she said quietly, "I must ask of you a small favor."

"Ask. What?"

"I love the sensations when you touch my nipples and breasts. Especially with your mouth -- fingers and hands are also nice but your mouth-touchings are quite special, and they produce some very intense sensations. Quite astonishing sensations, and extremely pleasant! So close to orgasm you bring me!"

"But Kevin, just now you looked as if you might be going to try to kiss me, and that bothers me a great deal. I have my reasons. So I must tell you there can be NO kissing, no matter what else we may do. Please?"

Kevin responded without a question: he just nodded and said "Exactly as you wish. After all, Rhonda, it is YOUR body, and I touch it only at your sufferance. But I am thoroughly enjoying myself."

The question hung there unspoken for another second, until Rhonda finally said "Thank you. And especially thank you for not asking 'why?' Because you did not ask but are clearly curious, I shall explain. A few minutes ago I told you that it was my intelligence that kept me from dating -- but I said there were other things as well."

"Those other things I haven't told you yet, well, they are more explanations of Doctor Rhoda for Doctor Kevin, so he can understand her better. Perhaps so SHE can understand HERSELF better, too! SO, now I am telling you more of my childhood secrets. Sex secrets."

Here she paused to collect herself, and finally continued: "When I was a young girl, only six years, I had a very unfortunate experience, with a young man -- really an older boy, not a man. I think perhaps he had fifteen years, but nearly fully grown. It involved some minor violence, but no injury, and had a great deal to do with my mouth and my vagina."

"I have never gotten over that event. So for me it is no kissing, not at all, not ever, not with anyone. That rule has not exactly made me sexually popular with male human beings! Anyhow, erotic kissing would be exactly the wrong thing for me. Is that okay? Can you understand and make me such a promise, so that I do not need to worry about it? Please?"

Kevin swallowed, nodded: "Of course I can make such a promise. I do make the promise. Absolutely. And I'm truly sorry about your bad luck. But tell me, if the rule is 'no kissing', why have you today allowed me to kiss your breasts without protest? That seems rather --- inconsistent. Odd!"

She smiled at him: "Perhaps it is my own six-year-old logic still working, but in today's situation. When I was attacked, I didn't have breasts. Hardly even nipples: I was many years from having my first period. So there was nothing about the incident that had anything to do with breasts, and therefore today it is okay for you to touch or kiss them. I believe the psychologist's term would be "no bad associations".

"The same thing --but of opposite polarity- applies to my vagina, which you have been politely avoiding and which I have been always ready to protect with my hands -- please continue the avoidance if you don't mind too terribly. The boy was entirely interested in kissing me very deeply and roughly, and then having me do other things for him with my mouth."

"And of course he was interested in getting into my vagina -- first with his fingers and then with his erection. He managed both, at least to some depth. He had absolutely no interest for me to enjoy myself in any way. It was NOT a seduction, it was actually a rape, and fortunately there was no serious physical damage. Clearly there was, and still is, some mental, emotional damage."

She looked at him, studied his distressed face, patted him on the arm reassuringly: "HOWEVER -- my memories are that my assailant didn't have any interest about my butt, and, so your touching it is okay, just like you touching my breasts is okay. Much more than merely okay! My butt, my ass, both inside and outside, is at least as sensitive as my nipples. Maybe even more. But quite different, so it is difficult to compare them."

She giggled through her sudden embarrassment at having revealed so much so quickly: "There -- Now I am being the so-called adult Rhonda again - the perfect scientist, no? Trying hard to devise a system for comparing apples and oranges! How silly!"

Kevin nodded sagely, thought for a moment, and his face brightened with an impish grin that intrigued Rhonda. "What are you thinking inside there?" she asked, tapping his forehead with a fingertip. "Something about the situation has amused you!"

"Not amused, Rhonda. Not at all. 'Intrigued' is a better word. I just wonder---- since bad associations prevent you from indulging in certain touches, or at least from accepting them as okay, may I ask about a detail of your childhood experience?"

She nodded, now puzzled herself. "With your attacker -- was there any contact of his mouth with your body anywhere below the waist?"

She stared at him, then, understanding in a brilliant flash the implications of the question, she blushed a deep fuchsia, bit her lip, and shook her head: "No. None. That wasn't what interested him, I guess."

Kevin grinned at her, said "Good! That should mean that there's no 'bad associations' problem with what I propose as our next step. What do you suppose that might be?"

She said nothing for many seconds, but her deepening coloration said all that was needed.

Finally she managed "Really? You would do THAT THING with ME?" She gave a very unexpected and little-girlish chuckle. "I must admit that I have wondered about it all my adult life, listening to my friends' stories... but why would you do such a thing with me? Clearly it might give ME pleasure, but I doubt it would do similar things for YOU!?"

He very gently gripped her knees and applied opening pressure -- the legs splayed apart far more easily than they might have -- his touches were questions or instructions, but all the motive power came from her.

He responded to the query - "Because you clearly haven't experienced that, and it would please me greatly, be quite an honor in fact, to be allowed to introduce you to a whole new level of pleasure. Not to mention how much I expect it would please YOU! Which is the entire name of the game for today, you know."

"Now... with your permission, if you will just lie back and relax, not give in to embarrassment or worries, and let me play at my very favorite game... we can see pretty quickly whether there's any real interest on your part."

She did manage to relax; and within thirty seconds of his mouth's initial touches on her clit, the interest was manifestly REAL.

Real to the extent of three rapid-fire orgasms of increasing intensity, the final one arching her spine up off the mattress as she spasmodically gripped fistfuls of sheet -- she was aware of, and most happy with, how the fingers of one Kevin-hand gently invaded her bottom and tickled ('tickled' was definitely the wrong word... but what word to use?) deep inside her body where not even she herself had ever gone.

And the brain-body lightning!, and how the other hand cupped a breast and massaged its extraordinarily erect nipple.

Then, aware of her labored breathing, he let her slowly relax. He finally -- with clear reluctance - ceased working on her pussy with his mouth, and ordered her to roll back over onto her stomach "...for another go-around."

She was totally astounded with her bodily responses, almost woozy from the intensity, but more than willing to continue. As she rolled, she eyed his erection, looked up at him and said "Kevin, your penis is the most amazing thing! Are you feeling... neglected? I worry that perhaps I should not be just lying here, receiving pleasures one-way. That seems unfair."

He smiled, shook his head, and said something it took her a few seconds to understand: "I am not at all neglected! I'm enjoying myself immensely, so don't worry. For me, the journey itself is 95% of the enjoyment and the eventual arrival is almost an anticlimax. You are NOT to go worrying yourself over my pleasures! Quit doing so, please!"

He started the "second go-around" by concentrating on her feet and calves for some minutes, then worked northwards again. This time he knelt beside her at hip-level, facing across her hips, and set one hand to working the base of her neck, while the other traveled slowly, firmly, authoritatively, steadily... straight up the backs of her thighs and over the buttocks, digging firmly, kneading, stretching.

He lavished more oil on her upper back, then even more on his bottom-hand, tentatively letting his fingertips approach the upper portion of her cleft. More oil still, the lightest of touches on her bum, tracking the bottom fold of her glutes, as he did serious deep work on her trapezius with the other hand.

Soon he was toying with, no longer massaging, her bottom, without an overt invitation to proceed, but without an implied rejection, either -- certainly she issued no "stop" signals. The fingertips of his bottom-hand carefully, discreetly explored up and down the entire length of the deep, muscle-walled buttocks-crevice, moving softly, carefully, advancing deeper no more than a millimeter per slow stroke, the increase of depth occurring slower than any snail's pace, reassuringly allowing her all the time she might need to study, to consider, to either demand or merely suggest a cessation. No demand issued.

As the depth increased millimeter by millimeter, his fingertips were steadily, silently asking permission, always clearly prepared to be told 'no' and accept it gracefully.

But that wasn't happening. Instead, permission was being granted, not so much by active assent but rather covertly, through lack of protest, by silent acquiescence with each tiny increment of penetration as it occurred. Progress, steady and uninterrupted.

Even, to his great delight, abetted occasionally by the tiniest of wriggles, minuscule seismic readjustments, each of which enhanced rather than impeded the next increment.

He proceeded until his nails were at the bottom of the crevice, slipping fore and aft through the oil. Over the tight pucker of her anus, along the midline ridge of tissue on her perineum, stopping just before the rearmost lip of her pussy's entrance. Back and forth the length of her buttcrack, adding pressures and pauses on the sphincter itself. Finally an overt, prolonged pause atop the sphincter, then the necessary slow, delicate finger-wiggles to locate the actual opening dimple.

Those direct touches produced a long exhalation, and then a slow, firm backwards pressure. No rejection in that.