Women Enjoying Naked Men Ch. 03

The muscles in her hips she had pressed into use as she fucked fantasy-Darrian the night before were actually sore the next morning as Taryn went through her gym routine.

It was a delicious soreness.

She looked forward to exercising those muscles so they wouldn't be sore.

Taryn was ready.

She just couldn't find a guy to peg.

So it was good ol' dependable Cory, squirming and moaning and gasping as her imaginary strapon cock plunged into his sexy, imaginary asshole, that frequently served Taryn's man-fucking desires. Cory and a nice complement of other men, some of them plucked from pegging videos, some of them pressed into service on their backs even though the pictures of them on her monitor showed them seated or standing or crouching or bending or reclining sexily on a couch just made for sexplay.

And true to the research findings she had read in the book, Taryn was aroused by the pretty, hard cocks on each of them as they looked back at her through the photographer's lens.

She loved their pretty eyes that went along so nicely with their pretty cocks!

She loved the freedom she had given herself to enjoy looking at every inch of their erections, to delight in the arousal of gazing lustfully at their naked butts, imagining how hot and sexy it would be to grab those firm bottoms, to squeeze and fondle them, to pry those sexy cheeks apart to expose their private openings.

And now she truly loved seeing their pretty assholes, too, finding those hidden, private openings arousing in all they offered, all the possibilities they provided for her fingers, her strapon, and even — as the surprising yet thoroughly arousing make-believe sensation of pressing her lips around fantasy Darrian's exposed asshole had proven — even her tongue.

("Rimming," as she discovered the activity was named, is something Taryn was certain she never would have thought about doing before she added strapon fucking to the mental movies she enjoyed while masturbating. But her fantasy-fuck with Darrian had confirmed that it sure as hell turned her on now.)

Before her revelation, Taryn knew she would have instantly put into the "Eewww!" category any shot of a nude guy on his knees, his chest pressed to the floor, his butt upturned with his cock and balls dangling between his spread legs, his eager asshole displayed completely and intentionally in the picture.

Now, that kind of picture always triggered for her an imagined entreaty from the guy thus positioned: "I so-o-o-o-o want you to play with me, Taryn! Please fuck me with your strapon. It will make me come so hard for you!" She always preferred that such pictures be preceded by pictures of the guy in other poses that let her see HIM, see his eyes, his face, his body — but when the picture of the guy came into view that showed his private opening, it was so hot, so primal, such an enticement to the crazysexy role reversal she wanted so badly to experience, that she looked forward to such poses in photo sets of handsome, naked men.

Those kind of shots were few, but she loved finding them!

If those pictures managed to show both the guy's asshole and his eyes as he looked into the camera, Taryn would often clench her thighs in an immediate, involuntary reaction. Inventive photographers and flexible guys could make this position look natural in shots of over-the-shoulder gazes back at the camera by a guy on his hands and knees. Her favorite pose — and how very fervently she wished the photo set of Cory had included it — was a naked man straddling a chair with his back to the camera, the chair turned around so he was resting his forearms on top of the chair's back as he looked back toward the camera.

He would be scooted back on the seat of the chair, his pelvis tipped forward as he leaned his torso forward, too. The result was a beautifully spread ass, firm, toned cheeks in full view, strong back muscles sweeping upward to his shoulders, his neck craned around so his pretty face turned to look backwards at the photographer.

To look at the woman viewing the picture.

To look at Taryn.

And his expression always said to her, "Yes, I want you to look, Taryn. I want you to see where I'm desperate for your touch, your tender caress, your teasing penetration. I'm open and vulnerable like this on purpose so you can see how much I want you to take me, how much I want you to slide inside me and fuck me until we both come hard."

Yep. That was a fantastic pose! She didn't find it often, but when she did, it always made an impression.

_What if I were the photo director for a sexy layout with a naked man? thought Taryn_. _What if I could put the guy into any pose I wanted?_

_I would undoubtedly have to spend a lot of time in the photo session to get that particular shot j-u-u-u-s-s-t right_, Taryn thought, giggling to herself.

"Can you lean forward a little more, Cory? Yes, that's it. I can see more of your pretty asshole like that. This is such a sexy pose, and you are so handsome and hot and exposed in this position, and . . . oooh, darn — you leaned a little too far. Let's do it again."

Fantasy Taryn was having all kinds of fun in her role as photo director.

"Please don't be embarrassed, Cory. At least for this photo shoot, we don't want any embarrassed expressions in the pictures. We need our readers to believe you have no worries about how exposed you are, about the fact you're showing them your most private opening."

Then, in these Taryn-as-photo-director masturbatory scenarios, she would say to the naked male model who was being paid to follow her every direction, "We need your expression to say to our readers, 'I'm showing you because I want to open up completely for you. I want you to know how desperate I am for you to slide your strapon inside me and make me come.'"

And watching on the screen of her fantasy-mind as the handsome, nude model positioned himself in a shameless display of every millimeter of the most private part of his gloriously naked ass while he looked at the camera with sexy eyes and an expression that conveyed exactly what Taryn directed invariably produced a wonderful orgasm.

Naked men on the Internet. Hundreds of young, sexually eager men on campus. Those male professors at the gym (including at least one who was not married, as she learned one evening when he held the gym door open for her, left hand extended out across the horizontal press-bar to keep the door from closing while she walked through). Guys sitting in their window seats on flights down to Southern California, their gazes idly tracking the passing scenery out the window as Taryn watched them, wondering what they might look like naked as she passed the time on her monthly trips to a SoCal university where she was collaborating on a research project.

Handsome, nude male models in her imagination taking direction obediently no matter how exposed they were as a result . . .

Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

Then someone threw her a lifeline.

And — wouldn't you know it — coincidence struck again, and again it was on the TriMet.

A copy of the university's student newspaper lay on the seat next to her. Looking for a way to pass the time as she commuted home at the end of a long day at the end of a long week, Taryn picked up the newspaper, skimming quickly past stories about the building renovation on campus, the upcoming talk in the student union by an author known for environmental advocacy, and the latest loss by the university basketball team.

Then, on the inside back page, she came to the small ad. The business, billing itself with the tagline, "Intelligent fun in the bedroom," was one Taryn recognized as a regular advertiser. Portland was a pretty progressive town, the university included, and sex shop ads in the student newspaper were old hat.

But this ad was different from others she had seen. It listed a series of upcoming "workshops" to be held at the store:

--Get your kink on: First-timers and light bondage. --G-spot orgasms: Fact or fiction? --Role play for couples.

Each class listing was followed by a couple of sentences about "course content."

Then:

--Pegging: Convincing him, convincing her.

The description that followed read, "Strapon sex play between women and men is becoming more common for one simple reason: IT FEELS GREAT! Ladies, if you've ever wondered what it would be like to trade places with your guy, and gentlemen, if you've ever wondered whether your girlfriend or wife could learn something new that would totally rock your world, then this is the class for you!"

Taryn read the ad three times, checking to make sure she wasn't misinterpreting, wasn't misreading.

"Check out our website for more information," was the notation at the bottom of the ad, followed by the URL.

Taryn folded the newspaper and slipped it into her valise.

She went straight to her computer after tossing her keys on the table and locking the door of her loft behind her. There was additional information about the classes on the shop's web site.

She'd visited the web site once before, and considered going there to browse through the merchandise — the shop looked clean, classy, safe, well lit, and it obviously catered to that subset of the general population who didn't snicker at sex play between consenting adults who enjoyed erotic fun in their bedrooms.

But it occurred to Taryn that going there to purchase a dildo or a vibrator or any piece of merchandise might not be wise. What if a student in one of her classes was working there! It would surely be too tempting to gossip with friends about "kinky Dr. Roberts" coming to the store for any student in her class to refrain from spreading such a juicy story.

The anonymity, prices, and selection at amazon trumped such a risk easily, and she had not been back to the site since.

Now, though, was this information about next week's workshops, taught by a female blogger whose mission, as quoted in the write-up about her and the class, was to change the world, "one ass at a time," by helping women and men discover the joys of pegging.

The write-up also included the link to the woman's blog, a site, Taryn found, that housed lots and lots of information about pegging. The "pegging expert" would be up from Southern California on a visit the following week and would be teaching her 2-workshop series about female-to-male strapon sex. There would be a beginner's hour-long workshop followed after a break by a workshop for those more practiced in the activity.

_More practiced in the activity!_ thought Taryn. There would be couples there who had been doing this erotically mind-blowing kind of sex for . . . who knew how long!

Maybe there would be single guys there who had done it, who liked it.

Who wanted more of it.

Then her hesitance about going to the shop returned. What if someone from the university were there and recognized her?

Well, they would be just as compromised as she would be, Taryn reasoned. That would not, however, eliminate the risk of someone in one of her classes being there as an employee or going to the class. For college students to work at a sex shop or go to such a class wouldn't raise any eyebrows, but a student there who saw a divorced female professor from the mostly male engineering department at a strapon class in the local sex shop . . .

That would definitely crank up the rumor mill.

But — damn! — the chance to learn more about strapon fucking a guy. The chance to talk to women who had done it instead of simply reading blog postings (which held no tone-of-voice or facial-expression clues about whether you could believe what the bloggers had written).

Simply being around conversation about female-to-male strapon play would be sexy fun!

And who knew what kind of things would be talked about during the workshops. Maybe she would hear guys who'd had it done to them talk about why they liked it and what they especially liked for their female partners to do when they fucked them with their strapons.

Surely she would hear and see a couple ask something about strapon sex, knowing the woman had fucked the guy in the ass and they had both loved it!

Simply imagining the class was enough to dampen Taryn's panties.

How could she not go?

The woman's site who would be teaching the class contained all manner of information Taryn did not know about pegging a guy, about the different kinds of strapons (double-enders?!), about toxic toys (was the dildo she bought toxic?), about how — exactly and in precise, excruciatingly exquisite detail — to slide a strapon dildo into a man's lubed-up asshole.

This reading was exciting not just because she knew it would help her in her first pegging session (and in all others, for that matter), but because the topics discussed on the site, the acts described, the advice given in order to give a man an orgasm ten times more powerful than he had ever experienced — all of it was incredibly sexy because it was all about the act Taryn was desperately horny to consummate.

How could she not go?

What if she were recognized?

How could she not go?

The pegging expert's web site indicated there were classes in the city where she lived in Southern California, but those classes were two months in the future. Two months! The class in Portland was next week!

The following Thursday night, Taryn went to the shop promising "intelligent fun in the bedroom," timing her arrival for five minutes after the advertised start of the beginner's strapon workshop, figuring it wouldn't start exactly on time. She would thus avoid having to mingle with the other workshop attendees beforehand, thereby minimizing the chance someone would recognize her, but not jeopardize the chances of catching every juicy detail shared in the workshop.

Deciding on a nondescript sweatshirt and well-worn but still nice jeans as starting points for a disguise that could be disavowed if someone did recognize her, Taryn tried to make peace with her decision to go.

So what if someone recognized her?

Then, losing a bit of nerve, she decided she needed to do a little more to avoid recognition. The lack of make-up helped (she took care with her appearance on campus, never overly made-up — a no-no in the academic environment — but always nicely presented, except when at the gym when no make-up was a requirement). Finally, she pulled her normally shoulder-length chestnut hair back in a pony tail and tucked it through the opening of a plain brown ball cap.

It would have to do.

She was not going to miss this opportunity to learn more about the sexual obsession that had been frustrating her for months while at the same time providing so many exciting masturbatory sessions, always capped with lovely orgasms.

Taryn slipped into a chair on the back row just after the beginner's workshop began.

"So what are you hoping to find out tonight?" asked the woman leading the workshop.

No one was shy. Four hands went up immediately.

"I want to know why a guy like my boyfriend, a totally hunky, masculine kind of man, wants me to do this to him," said a black woman who looked to be in her thirties. "I mean, why? What I want is for him to pick me up in his strong arms, carry me to the bedroom, toss me on the covers and just do me until I see stars!"

The teacher and all the attendees laughed.

It was going to be a fun workshop, Taryn thought.

The teacher, a long-legged redhead seated comfortably on a loveseat at the front of the room, replied. "Oooh, aren't you the lucky one! A hunky, manly man who wants you to do him in the ass with a strapon." The woman paused for effect. "That is so-o-o-o hot," she said, a wry smile forming on her lips.

More questions. More interesting, enlightening, fun and sexy conversation. It was easy to see many people were there without their partners, coming for information because they had been surprised by an intimate request for pegging and didn't know anything about strapons and how a woman could use one to fuck a man.

Other people (Taryn guessed maybe 30 people were in attendance) were there as couples, anxious to find out how to "do it right" so they didn't hurt their partner, or how to choose equipment, or where to find good pegging porn.

(_Good luck with that_, thought Taryn when hearing the question, having learned in her own pegging porn hunt that the ratio of BDSM, humiliation strapon videos to sexy, both-partners-loving-the-act videos was at least nine to one. But the woman leading the workshop had some good answers.)

Then came the question Taryn knew would be asked. It was the number one concern women had about guys who wanted to be pegged according to the workshop leader's web site.

"Does this mean he's secretly gay?" asked a young woman who looked the part of the quintessential farm girl transplanted to the big city: long blonde hair, freckles, big boobs, and speaking in a halting voice, barely audible.

The teacher was well prepared for that question, definitively erasing the notion that wanting to be pegged meant a man was gay.

The hour rushed by, and near the end, the woman pulled an assortment of pegging paraphernalia from a suitcase next to the little sofa where she sat. She spoke to the pluses and minuses of each piece of equipment, then followed with two stories of anxious, cautious, yet eager couples who took what they learned from the workshop back to their bedrooms and then wrote into her blog to report success and excitement about their first strapon fuck.

Then, in what for Taryn was the highlight of the beginner's session, the workshop leader — also an author of erotica — closed with a story of her own that stoked everyone's desire to go home that very night, women strapping into their dildos, men offering up their asses, and both parties exploring the hottest, most erotic, most intimate ways to give each other sexual pleasure.

"I am not one to kiss and tell," the woman began, settling back into the sofa, "but I will share a little bit about how one handsome man approached me for pegging information," she began, settling back into the loveseat. "He was a guy who'd been masturbating with butt plugs but had never been pegged." The workshop leader paused, smiling broadly at the group. "Can you guess how hot I find it to peg a virgin guy, one who's already worked at preparing himself, one who knows having an experienced lady initiate him is going to be the most intensely pleasurable sexual experience he can possibly imagine?"

Having read the woman's blog-posted stories, Taryn was nervous but excited as the author began her tale. Already revved up as a voyeur to the night's exchange of information about her favorite, though yet to be experienced, sexual activity, Taryn couldn't help but lean forward in her seat to catch every word.

A regret flitted across her mind as she adjusted her pony tail and squirmed a bit, trying to get as comfortable as possible to listen to the story. _Too bad I don't have a recorder_, Taryn thought. _I would LOVE to hear this story at home where I could masturbate as I listened_.

The workshop leader did not disappoint:

"It was at a conference where sex-positive people gather to hear experts, writers, researchers, porn stars — you name it — share information about sex. This gorgeous man at the conference had pretty brown eyes with the longest lashes I'd ever seen on a guy, and he was so nicely dressed in a tan t-shirt covered by a navy blazer. He wore jeans and smiled shyly when I caught his eye."

Leaning forward conspiratorially on the sofa, the woman brought the audience into her confidence: "All the ladies at the conference were hitting on him." She smiled and leaned back, continuing her tale. "I really wanted to see him naked. He looked delicious!" she laughed, extending a long leg in front of her and turning slightly in her seat.