Why Would I Touch That?

Why would I touch that little dick of yours? Don't get me wrong – I think it's adorable and I do love playing with it, but why would I touch it the way I would handle a real cock? When I was a little girl I had all kinds of cute little stuffed animals – bears, lions and tigers mostly. But, of course, I grew up to appreciate the difference between those toys and the real thing. I've still got a few of those stuffed animals in a storage box and they're just as cute as ever, but I guess I've just got more grown-up interests these days. I suppose the same goes for where I choose to spend my sexual attention too.

For better or worse, (better, I think) my looks and financial independence have always opened a lot of doors for me. Being able to pick and choose men is a privilege I didn't really appreciate and certainly didn't make the most use of until I turned about 25. In the 4 years since, it's definitely been an eye opening experience to realize that I really could just step out there into the world and get whatever I need. In my early twenties, I might have considered spending time with a guy like you or even sleeping with you. My thinking would have been that you seem like a nice enough guy and you sure do seem awfully sweet on me so why not give you a fair shake? If we did end up in bed, I'd probably even have excused your performance and other shortcomings thinking that there's more to life than some fantasy about being with the "perfect man." I suppose it was inexperience or just trying to be "nice" that drove a lot of my attitudes and behavior in those days. Things certainly have changed a bit. For one thing, despite all the complaining that a lot of women seem to do, it turns out that the "perfect man" really is out there. And there are actually a lot of them out there if you know where to look and you've got what it takes to get and keep their attention.

I suppose the big eye opener for me was a particular experience I had with a guy I met when I was 25. Life was already pretty good – I loved hanging out with my girlfriends, money was great, I had lots of nice guys interested in me and I really didn't know any better than the perfectly acceptable lifestyle I was already living. That sure changed in a hurry one day during an innocent trip to the dry cleaners.

I walked right past his car on the way in. I thought about it just long enough to mutter to myself one of those "some macho jerk with a little prick" comments. Who the hell drives a Lambourgini to the dry cleaners and parks half sideways like a total asshole? Well, it looked like I was about to find out because he and I turned out to be the only two standing in the store waiting and hoping that eventually a clerk would emerge from the back. "Mr. Sports Car" sure fit the bill – tall, dark, handsome, a few years older than me and, I was sure, compensating for not being very gifted between his legs. I certainly wasn't going to strike up a conversation and I'm sure I would never have said a word to him if circumstances hadn't forced an icebreaker. As I went to lay my dry cleaning on the counter, of course the one thing that slips out and falls to the floor is a pair of my panties.

I suppose it's been one of my little indulgences since I was a teenage girl, but I've long been a bit of an underwear connoisseur. And sure enough, before I realized they had slipped out of my bag, there was a pair of my lacier, sheer panties on their way to the floor of the dry cleaner. They settled on the floor right at his feet and all I could do was shake my head before reaching down to pick them up. But before I could bend over, he was already doing the "gentleman thing" and was already handing them back to me. This was the last guy I wanted touching my panties up until the moment I looked him in the eye to thank him. I had always dismissed guys like this but, for some reason (maybe I was just feeling bold), I decided right then and there I was going to find out just what exactly he was made of.

The flirting was easy. I thanked him, I blushed a little, he got interested, I played it a little coy, he was hooked. I wasn't going to waste any time. I poured it on pretty thick and he got the message. Fifteen minutes later we were upstairs in my apartment and I was ready for the fumbling, nervousness and disappointment I was expecting this guy to deliver. But then something happened. Out came a cock that definitely shattered my stereotype. Long, thick and textured by veins, it looked like one of those overwrought dildos that my girlfriends and I had nervously giggled over at the occasional bachelorette party. I was standing there in front of him, both of us fully clothed, his pants unzipped and his full cock weighing heavy in my hand. He was only half hard and already I couldn't believe the mass and the heat of his amazing dick.

Well, my attitude about this guy wasn't going to be shaken that easily. I quickly switched to the conviction that he was about to reveal himself as a terrible lover. All I can say about that is that four hours later I was lying there in his big arms having just been fucked in a way that has since changed my life forever. This "asshole" turned out to be the man who fucked me right for the first time in my life. His arrogance was confidence – and well deserved. His ridiculous car was actually a hobby for a guy with too much money (he had actually been an apprentice for Lamborghini while living in Italy as a young man – how cool is that!). His gym body was the product of his other hobby as a fitness trainer. And his cock – well, I suppose only genes can account for that. I had never felt such a sensation of being so completely filled and satisfied. I had never even imagined such full, thick balls pressing against my ass. And I certainly had never been with a guy who could cum so big then do it all over again four times in a row. Two of those times were in my mouth and on my tits because I simply could not get enough of the feeling that I had stumbled across the most magnificent and masculine cock in the world. Usual concerns about safety went out the window. I needed to feel that man cum with nothing between us. I needed to taste every bit of him and he was all too happy to feed my hunger.

Well, to make a long story short, he was just the start of an awakening that has taken me from being a pretty girl with a string of nice, sweet boyfriends to a woman who knows exactly how good it can be and exactly how to get it good from the kind of alpha male stud that, frankly, I deserve. I still love wearing sexy underwear, but now I do it for real men, not the sad little pussies I was willing to entertain before. And I guess that brings me back to you.

I know that your little cock is hard right now. I know it's straining and twitching over the thought of me spreading my legs and taking a hard fucking – not from you – but from the kind of man you know I deserve. The tip of your dick is probably even a little wet now. Is it staining your underwear or are you holding it in your hand? Reach down, rub that precum with your pinky finger, raise it to your lips and take a little taste of the pathetic little pussy you are. Good boy.

Now there's just one image I want in your head. Concentrate. Here's the picture: I'm lying on my beautiful bead, my head is thrown back, my mouth slightly open, legs spread, my sheer panties pushed aside, my stud above me, his thick shiny cock sliding in and out of my perfectly manicured pussy. Big masculine balls pushing against me. No condom. I need him to cum so badly but I don't want him to stop. He's in deep. He just keeps going. God I love that alpha cock.

Now squeeze that little dick of yours. Rub it hard like a good horny little boy. Picture me with my stud – your superior. Now cum. Cum on yourself. Cum on your own sad little cock while you watch a real man show you how it's done. Are you all slippery now? Give yourself a little taste. Just a little. Do as I say and maybe I'll have a special little treat for you tomorrow.