The Apprentices Ch. 01

"Monica, may I be naked like you are? I feel as though I should be."

"Well of course, dear," she responded from the bath. "I would love to see you. If you wait a minute I can help you out of your clothes."

"It's just a suit. I can take it off just fine on my own," he explained.

Nathan heard a chuckle from the other room and carefully took off his shoes and socks. He hung up his suit coat and turned around to find Monica behind him, her skin clean and glistening with water.

"It's not a matter of needing help to undress," she told him as she started untying his necktie. "It's simply more fun when someone else undresses you."

Monica's smooth, manicured hands deftly undid his Windsor knot, and she whipped it out of his shirt and tossed it on the floor. Pushing him against the wall, she kissed him greedily as she practically ripped his shirt open, getting the buttons loose as swiftly as she could. She stepped back and observed the tent in his pants.

"I thought so," she said. "This could be a long night." She felt his strong, young arms and shoulders, and ran her hands along his chest, feeling his lean, sculpted pecs and abs underneath his white t-shirt. Nathan crossed his arms and pulled the t-shirt over his head, while Monica, with swift, precise motions, had his belt unbuckled and his pants pooled at his feet. Nathan stepped out of them and removed his socks as gracefully as he could, leaving him clad in nothing but his shorts.

Monica led him by the waistband of his boxers to the bed, where she sat and had him stand before her. She looked at him with a broad smile that set his heart racing. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she slowly lowered them, allowing his erection to spring into view. She brought the band to mid-thigh and let them fall to the floor.

Nathan stepped out of his underwear, never taking his eyes of Monica, as she took his member in hand.

"This is a beautiful penis," she told him.

Nathan furrowed his brow. "You mean my 'cock?'"

Monica leaned forward until her face was right in front of it, as if she were speaking into a microphone. "There are many names." She gave it a quick lick, and Nathan jumped slightly in surprise. "Penis is the medical, the scientific name. It's also a dick," she took another lick, and Nathan sighed, "a Johnson," she took the tip into her mouth and Nathan moaned, "and a phallus," she told him, and took half his length in.

Nathan's face became a mask of lust, and he grabbed both sides of Monica's head and rammed himself down her throat, taking her by surprise and completely off guard. Her eyes bulged, but she quickly regained composure, swallowing and catching her breath through her nose.

After a brief pause he withdrew, caressing her cheek with his slick, throbbing manhood.

"I want to try something," he told her, feeling like something had just changed between them, though he wasn't sure what.

"Of course," she replied, and Nathan had Monica scoot onto the king-sized bed, where he joined her. She lay down on her back, he got on his knees, between her legs. Nathan leaned down and kissed Monica passionately on the lips, then let his kisses wander around her face. He wasted little time after that, kissing his way down her body, stopping and one nipple, then the other. Then down to her navel. For some reason it excited him that his... juice... had been all over this landscape.

A few more kisses, and here he was. Her place. She liked fingers in there. And since he liked being licked so much by her, it would only stand to reason that...

Monica gasped in surprise as Nathan licked her inner petals. The taste was not at all what he was expecting, but it wasn't unpleasant. Strong and tangy. It mingled well with the perfume she used elsewhere, on her hair and neck. With her legs spread as they were, it looked like a flower had opened up to him. He noticed that with the exception of the patch of fur above, everything was devoid of hair. He licked all around, from one outer lip to the other, and the all around the "flower," top to bottom.

Nathan tried to observe his lover's reaction to see what she liked. Whenever he got to the top of the opening, where the petals met and there was a funny knob, Monica bucked her hips to meet his face. He tried this again and again, and each time her moans of delight became more intense. She grabbed his hair and pressed his head into her crotch. Her legs lifted up and wrapped around his back.

Much to Nathan's disappointment, his tongue wasn't too well suited to plunging into her inner depths. This was somewhere he was determined to go, somewhere he must go. He quickly sucked on two of his fingers, and slid them into her hole, while returning his mouth to the top of her opening.

"Oh... GOD!"

Nathan licked and sucked, and his fingers stroked Monica's insides. She was now moaning loudly, every time his tongue passed over that knob.

"Oh... oh Nathan, you're going to... you're going to make me..."

Nathan turned his fingers to feel the top side of Monica's canal, and found a strange rough patch. He pressed his index finger into it, while at the same time pressing his tongue into her knob, and sucking all the flesh around it. Monica made a successive series of "ah" sounds, each louder and higher pitched than the one before. Finally she made one loud screech, and Nathan felt her squeeze around his fingers. There was a pulsing feeling and fluid started to run out over his already soaking-wet hand, got all over his chin, and made a steadily growing wet spot on the sheets below him.

He continued to stroke and lick and suck until Monica stopped making incoherent sounds of ecstasy, and her breathing returned to normal.

Nathan got up from between Monica's legs, and looked her in the eyes. "That was..."

"...an orgasm, yes," Monica could barely answer between breaths.

"You came," Nathan said, looking down at his soaking, sticky hand. "A lot."

****

"What IS that thing?" Daphne asked, not taking her eyes off Gordon's erect member.

"It's my penis," he told her. "My manhood. My cock. Prick. Male member. Unit..."

"Why's it got so many names?" she asked with more than a hint of skepticism in her voice, as if to imply that nothing good and honest would operate under that many aliases. "Why not just one?"

"Well, for one thing, it behaves differently depending on context." Gordon closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and his "unit" started bobbing downward, towards the funny bag between his legs. It got smaller and finally rested innocuously against the bag. Daphne couldn't help but giggle. She crossed the room, around the bed, got on her knees, and had a look. It was so innocuous, like a little baby fire hydrant.

This shape-changing only increased her mistrust, however, and she sprang to her feet, backing up a few paces. "Take your clothes off," she said. "All of them."

"What?"

"I wanna see what other weird things you're hiding under there."

"As you wish," Gordon replied, and Daphne watched as he casually removed his tuxedo, one piece at a time. When he started unbuttoning his shirt, she was initially dismayed by all the hair on his chest, but it seemed to compliment the musculature underneath. It belonged there. His body was sort of like a woman's body, but with all the nonsense and frill reduced away, and just the raw power and grace remaining. Naturally this was a place hair would want to be.

Gordon now stood completely naked before Daphne, his penis still relaxed, soft, and shrunken. She walked around him, eying him carefully. Downy hair covered his forearms and legs, and the nest of hair at his crotch was much more extensive than her own.

He was beautiful, rather like the way an animal like a deer or a horse is beautiful. It was a wild thing, with power in its arms and legs, ready to bound over a fence at a moment's notice. "He," not "it," of course, but there was so much of the animal in him. And then there was the butt. The butt made her smile.

"No hidden parts, no secret weapons," he reassured her.

"Except for the one," she clarified. Daphne reached for the bag underneath the penis. "And this must be where you keep the ammunition," she mused, giving it a squeeze.

"Yow!" Gordon shouted, shying away from her hand. "Careful with that."

"A-ha! I knew you had to have an Achilles' Heel. Is this just you or all men?"

"Every man who's ever lived."

"This is a valuable thing to know."

Gordon rolled his eyes.

Daphne meanwhile liked where she had this man, him fully naked and her almost completely dressed. It made her feel safer. In control.

"Make it hard again," she told him.

"Most men can't just do that on command," he explained.

"Can you?"

"Yes, but I've trained for..."

"Do it. Please?" she asked.

Gordon nodded, closed his eyes, and exhaled. His member bounced back to life, reaching its full height and hardness in seconds flat. Daphne applauded and skipped a bit.

It wasn't so scary now that she knew it a bit. But...

"What's it for?" she asked. "I mean, I assume you... go... out of it, but what does it need to be," she gingerly placed a hand around it and found it to be much harder than she thought, "all stiff for?"

Gordon drew Daphne near him and wrapped his arms around her back. She had to admit she liked the closeness as she put her arms around his neck. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said.

"Then show me," she answered, with just a hint of trepidation over exactly why a cock got stiff and what it did. Her own body was sending her all sorts of signals, making her rethink whether she liked him being the only naked person in the room. "I'm starting to feel funny being dressed when you're not."

"Then take off your clothes," replied Gordon.

"I also like being dressed when you're not."

Gordon leaned in to kiss her, and she accepted. This time it was a long, languid exchange. Daphne let her hands drift from around his neck, dropping to his hairy chest, and then his stomach, and finally... Should she do it? She was afraid to do it. She wanted to do it. Should she ask Gordon, or just...

Daphne grabbed Gordon's cock, eliciting a moan from the naked man. She pulled the skin up and down the iron underneath, feeling its power, feeling its strength.

"Undress me," she said. It was as much a decision as a request.

Gordon undid the buttons of her blouse, untied the lace, and pulled it open at the waist, revealing her brassiere. She felt the air on her skin, and she blushed, exposing this much of herself. He eased her out of the blouse, leaving just the flesh-colored undergarment as the only thing worn above the waist. He ran his hands all over Daphne's bare skin, giving her goosebumps.

His manhood was aimed directly at her stomach, something which she noticed when he pulled her close and it pressed against the bare flesh of her stomach. She should have been taken aback, but instead this warm, impossibly hard intruder filled her with excitement and expectation. Daphne positioned it so it could slide straight up towards the space between her breasts.

"Your penis is drooling on me," she said with a grin.

"It thinks you're worth drooling over," Gordon replied.

"It thinks now, does it? Who makes the decisions for you, you or it?" she asked with a sly grin.

"I wonder that myself sometimes," he replied.

Gordon deftly undid the front clasp of her bra, faster than she could have done herself. Daphne made no resistance as he swept the garment off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts, impossibly firm, strong, and proud, the way only an eighteen-year-old's can be, were fully exposed for his eyes. He gazed upon them briefly and then back up into her eyes. "They are beautiful. Men will weep for these. They would kill in pursuit of them."

Daphne's blush deepened.

The skirt was mostly a hindrance at this point, dropped immediately and gladly stepped out of. Now clad only in panties, Daphne could step into Gordon's embrace and feel his animal power wrap around her.

When he reached for the band of her panties, she pulled his hand away, meeting his eyes and shaking her head. Instead she let him onto the bed.

"You're nice to look at, and you're nice to feel," she said. "I want to feel you some."

Gordon lay on his side, and Daphne spooned her body behind his. He smelled different from a woman. Sharper, somehow. It was nice. His back was smooth and ripply. No hair on it, though, which would have been weird looking, or maybe not. She ran her hands over his chest and abdomen, her fingers combing through his body hair.

"This is nice," she told him. "Lying here, feeling things. Being together. I only met you a few minutes ago, but I feel like I always have been with you."

"You've never met a man before. You're not used to this."

Daphne ran a hand through Gordon's pubic hair and then wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft. Gordon let out a long, slow sigh. She gripped it and released it a few times, not sure what to do.

"How do you feel? What are you thinking?" she asked him.

Gordon took another deep breath of air. "You don't want to know that. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, men are dangerous creatures, every one of them," he explained.

"Oh, you can't all be that bad," she said.

"For another, well, it has to do with what that thing you're holding is for."

Daphne wanted to face him, so she rolled Gordon onto his back and straddled his legs. "I think that this man, at least, is sweet. And he's nice to look at, too." She leaned in to kiss him and felt his cock slide up her belly. She had never quite come down from that near-peak experience she had earlier, when Gordon's finger was almost in her...

"When you had my hands inside me, what is the name of that place?" she asked.

"Inside, that's the vagina," he said with such confidence. "Outside, the vulva." We also call it a pussy, which has lips..."

"Inner and outer," Daphne finished.

She rose up on her knees and noticed that Gordon's cock was pointed straight at her panties-covered...

Oh, no.

Daphne lifted herself off of Gordon and sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Gordon sat up and put a hand on her hip. With only a look, he asked what was wrong.

"No. No, no, no. This is not going to work."

"What isn't?" he asked.

"I worked out what that thing is for. And what my secret... my... vagina is supposed to be for. And it's just not happening."

Gordon moved his hand up to her shoulder. "Do you think it might be defective somehow?" Daphne looked at him with embarrassment in her eyes, then down at her own navel. "Because something as big as a cock could never fit in there?" His own was deflated and politely tucked away in his lap.

Daphne slowly nodded again. "How did you know?"

Gordon explained to her what it meant for a woman to be a virgin, and she listened and nodded.

"If I only have to break my hymen once, can it be with you?" she asked with both clinical bluntness and love and affection.

"There was a time when the court offered virgins to select dignitaries, but it was considered barbaric, and is no longer practiced," Gordon explained. "You are free to hold on to your virginity for a time, or lose it now, to whomever you please. You are not a slave; you are an apprentice in the art of love, learning to become an artisan, and someday, a mistress."

Daphne realized there were many other men in the world, and she had only met this one. And only a short time ago. Yet she knew she could trust this man, and the world out there was a sea of the unknown.

"Do it," she said, leaning over him, grabbing his soft penis and feeling it stiffen and grow in her hand.

Gordon helped Daphne out of her panties, and she straddled him once again, the two of them clad in nothing but their own skins, Gordon's hard cock pointed straight towards Daphne's virginal opening.

She grabbed his hand and fell onto her side in front of him. "Before we do this, I want you to feel me the way I felt you earlier."

"Of course," he responded, as if this were a natural thing to ask of him, and he turned on his side and drew her towards him. She could feel his hard cock pressed into her backside, along with his breath against her ear, and it felt exciting and comforting all at once. He kissed up and down her neck, sending waves of warmth through her entire body. One of his hands slowly caressed her hip and moved towards her fuzzy mound, while the other slid between her breasts without touching them. Gordon's movements progressed at a glacial pace, and it had to be a good ten minutes before he finally touched either place. But in the meantime he had stoked a fire Daphne was afraid would consume her.

When he finally cupped one of her naked breasts, she gave a low moan and scissored her legs slightly, longing for his touch down there as well. Rather than relenting to her unspoken desire, Gordon grasped her hand in his, his palm against the back of hers, their fingers intertwined. Daphne wasted no time in leading him down to her sopping wet pussy.

His finger slid down between her lips, and this time it was his turn to moan when he realized just how wet she really was. He slowly rocked his finger up and down, from her vestibule to her hooded button - her clit - and back, again and again and again, while his other fingers massaged her inner and outer lips.

"Faster," she asked, almost a command. "Move faster."

Gordon started to move his hand in a circular motion, his fingers in all the right places, the stimulation on Daphne's clit breathtaking and almost unbearable. His other hand grabbed each of her breasts in turn, squeezing each nipple with just enough roughness to make it stand out, stiff, red, and proud, from the pink areola and white flesh surrounding it. His cock seemed to grow even harder, and pressed rudely into her ass cheek. Meanwhile, he assaulted her ear, face, and neck with kisses and at times, gentle bites.

The fire growing within Daphne turned into a raging inferno, and she knew that the something she had felt coming was going to happen, and she may not be able to stop it from happening. She wanted to do this right, even if it was painful. Even if it was terrifying.

This man was hers, and she would have him.

"Get on your back." This time it was an order. Gordon obeyed, even as Daphne's stiffened arms were on his shoulders to force the issue if necessary.

Daphne examined her man, lying beneath her spread knees, his hands on her hips, his eyes telling a tale of tragic desire. Her own body was now an overheated cauldron, and it would boil over whether she wanted it to or not. She grabbed his cock, appreciating its hardness, its size and shape. This was going to hurt, but like a bandage, she rationalized that it would be easier to take it off in one swift stroke than little by little.

As she aimed his penis at the opening of her sopping vagina, Gordon's eyes went wild. He looked like he wanted to say something, but words wouldn't come forth from his mouth. Daphne felt a distant thumping from somewhere in her loins. Something was coming, at it would be good. In one swift movement, she fell upon the phallus and let it impale her.

"OH GOD!" she screamed as pain and pleasure ripped through her body and her mind. When the pain subsided, the pleasure not only came to the foreground, but grew. The distant thumping turned into wave after wave of convulsions, once again blinding her. Maybe blinding, or perhaps transporting her to some higher plane on which the affairs of this petty world don't matter.

After what might have been thirty seconds or five minutes - she couldn't tell - she collapsed onto Gordon's hairy chest and listened to his heartbeat, all while his steel-hard manhood remained inside her newly uncovered hole, filling it perfectly and bringing her unspeakable contentment.