Women Enjoying Naked Men Ch. 01

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Taryn learns to enjoy seeing naked men in pictures and vids.
5.4k words
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/30/2022
Created 02/26/2014
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escriterra
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There are events that happen by pure, dumb luck which, on reflection, somehow seem impossible to be coincidences. Taryn could cite several such serendipitous circumstances in her life that turned out to be miracles of good fortune.

Once, while visiting a city as a graduate student for a science conference, she picked up one of those ubiquitous street-corner alternative newspapers on a pure whim on the way down the stairs to the subway. Opening the paper idly to kill time on the 15-minute ride to the other side of town where she'd found a way less expensive hotel, she read an article describing the city's just-launched initiative in biofuels. The article gave her the idea which became her dissertation.

Then there'd been the time when she'd been talking with a girlfriend in a Starbucks about wanting to throw a killer party for her favorite aunt's upcoming 60th birthday. The woman at the next table overheard the conversation and politely introduced herself. She was an event planner and gave Taryn her card, suggesting she visit the planner's web site. Taryn did just that when she got home, liked what she saw, and hired the planner. The party turned out spectacularly, and Taryn recommended the planner to a cousin who was getting married the following year.

So maybe it wasn't as big a surprise as it could have been when a guy left a book on the seat across the aisle and dashed off the TriMet to wave down someone he knew sitting in a car at the intersection. Seeing what happened, Taryn grabbed the book and started toward the door, but Portland's light rail — ever punctual — remained true to form, and the door was already shut before she reached it.

The guy wouldn't have heard her even if she'd been able to yell after him.

The book was _What Do Women Want? Adventures in the Science of Female Desire_. It wasn't a title she'd otherwise have come across — engineering research held no quarter for female sexual desire.

Not that she wasn't female, and not that she didn't have sexual desire, mind you.

But being the dedicated researcher she was, Taryn's reading, even for pleasure, was mostly about things like biographies of engineers or scientists or the latest teaching strategy to help struggling college students conquer circuit design. Sometimes an interesting best-seller might creep onto her reading list.

No, Taryn Roberts wasn't a woman who would ever have gone looking for a book on the science of female desire.

Curious, she turned the book over in her hands as she settled back into her seat. Quotes on the back cover seemed to indicate the book described research findings that would "surprise" readers about the female sexual drive.

Hmmm.

Taryn opened to the first chapter.

A scientist was doing research to assess women's sexual arousal while watching various kinds of porn. Man-woman porn. Woman-woman porn. Man-man porn. Oral, both man-on-woman and woman-on-man. Oh, and man-on-man and woman-on-woman, too. Males masturbating. Women stroking their naked clits until they climaxed. Nude men, muscular and buff with handsome faces and pretty eyes displayed in videos either in a state of non-tumescence or with rigid, pulsing cocks straining skyward.

The thing was, the woman scientist doing the research didn't depend solely on the female viewers' statements about their state of arousal when seeing the video clips or the pictures. The survey responses were only part of the data collection.

Inside the viewers' vaginas, snugged in securely and with scientific accuracy, was a device that registered the women's physiological responses to what they saw.

Way too often, what female subjects reported as non-arousal was contradicted by their lubricating pussies.

"No arousal" was the answer from many women when they viewed a picture of a naked man with a hard cock in a simple setting with no props to imply some back-story of romantic pursuit.

"Aroused," would be the silent read-out from the plethysmograph, the device measuring the presence of lubricating juices that began right after the picture was displayed on the screen.

"No," would be the response to the survey question about whether seeing two guys mouthing each others' cocks was arousing.

But the physical response of the female subjects who watched as a naked man slid his erection down the throat of a similarly aroused and nude male could not be denied.

"Did nothing for me," would be the written-in comment on the part of the survey where a subject provided feedback not collected with a multiple-choice answer.

The writer's vagina, though, contradicted her statement by providing physiological proof that, yes, watching a video of a handsome, naked man masturbate to the point of climax _did_ do something for her.

Whether the women identified themselves as straight, lesbian, or bi, pictures of nude men with erections dependably launched unmistakable evidence of sexual arousal.

For most of the women, naked male buttocks were also inevitable triggers for that unconscious, not-to-be-denied indication of their inner selves' actual response to what they saw.

The sight of naked male erections and nude male asses was arousing to women, according to the research.

_Is that what women want?_ wondered Taryn, dropping the book to her lap and giggling to herself as she realized she'd fallen prey to the clever title.

Even that action was lucky coincidence. Otherwise, Taryn would have missed her stop.

***

As she walked the two blocks to the loft she'd been renting since she took the teaching position at the city university, Taryn realized something.

The crotch of her panties was damp.

Good lord! Reading about scientific research had revved her up?

Duh. Of course it had. What she'd been reading had prompted visuals in her mind's eye. Even though the research in the book was not salaciously described — it stuck to the facts and didn't elaborate about the details of the videos and the pictures that the female research subjects viewed — Taryn's mind did plenty of elaboration.

_Has it been that long since I've had sex?_ she wondered.

Actually, it hadn't been that long. The guy wasn't necessarily long-term material, but he had been pleasant, had a decent body, and she'd actually managed orgasms with him after their first few couplings.

But it became clear fairly quickly that the sex for him was . . . well, that was the best way to say it.

For him.

He got off on playing with her aerobics-toned body, rubbing against her, delighting in seeing her in a thong because he liked her butt. He loved fondling her pert B-cup breasts and toying with her nipples.

All that would normally be a turn-on, and it was for a while. But he made it clear that initiating sex was the man's prerogative. It had meant that she would be naked before he was on most occasions, and that when he was naked, it was time to fuck. Immediately.

It was a shame. Otherwise, he'd been fun. Taryn liked him. There was just something missing, and though at the time she couldn't exactly identify what it was, she decided she was young enough to move on, looking for other men. If things didn't work out in three or four years, maybe she'd look the guy up to see if he were still available. Perhaps at that point it would be the right time to see whether there was a chance he could be persuaded to change.

If she could figure out exactly what it was that needed to be different.

Now the book was presenting a clue.

_If the sight of naked male erections and firm backsides arouses women — me — maybe I was unconsciously resentful that Steven didn't seem to think it important to indulge me that way_.

Taryn had to admit, though, that she'd never asked him to linger, nude and erect in her bedroom, so she could enjoy the view as she reclined on the bed, maybe twirling a lock of her shoulder-length chestnut hair in one hand to send the message that this show would not be rushed, that maybe she wanted to just lie there for a minute and look at him, naked, with his cock hard, his arousal on display for her.

She had never told him she wanted him to strip then turn around, to show her his ass, to shake it for her and let her play with it. She had never said to him, "Baby, why don't you take off all your clothes for me right now and just walk around your apartment and find ways to stretch and move and bend over in front of me so I can see you naked. It will turn me on. And then I want you to stroke your cock while I watch it get big and hard, and then you can show it off to me, letting me see it throb because you're so turned on."

No, Taryn had never done any of that. She had never even _thought_ about doing it.

The realization was a turning point for her.

She hurried up the stairs to her loft, poured a glass of the nice merlot she'd found recently at the organic market three blocks over, and settled into her comfortable reading chair just as a light rain began to drizzle down the window opposite her kitchen. As the city lights twinkled even more through the rivulets of water zigzagging across the panes of glass, Taryn resumed reading about the scientific research that was producing results contradicting the taken-for-granted assumption that women required an emotional connection to the owner of the erect penis they were looking at in order to be turned on.

Drawing her feet up under her as she got situated with the book propped on the arm of the chair, Taryn paged quickly to the spot in the book where she'd stopped reading. She wanted to find out if other research revealed why women said they didn't get aroused by seeing naked men when the responses from their genitals clearly indicated otherwise.

Did these women just not know they were aroused?

Starting on Chapter Two, Taryn acknowledged the little tug at the back of her mind telling her she was one of the women who would have lied about her reaction to seeing a picture of a naked guy with a hard cock. She grew up believing women just weren't built to get turned on by the sight of naked men.

However the belief took hold, it stuck, including the five years she had been married to Ned.

The marriage followed a too-sign tying of the knot after she got her Ph.D. The sex had been satisfying, even spectacular on occasion, but it was hardly what your average citizen would call kinky. Even when they watched porn together, they both understood it was "aren't we being naughty" time, the occasional surrender to her husband's desire for variety.

(And the porn they had watched was decidedly tame in comparison to some of the things the researchers in the book had shown the women in the study.)

Taryn paused, considering her sexual life with Ned as she turned a page and took a sip of wine. She and Ned must have had an implicit agreement about watching porn: he still liked to see naked women, and she would indulge his cravings in this safe manner, her man beside her, stroking his cock as she intensified his physical pleasure. Truth be told, she enjoyed making him feel good, and she enjoyed handling his erection.

She even enjoyed watching some of the videos, some of the scenes, some of the actors.

But they both abided by the unspoken contract: He was being allowed to derive sexual pleasure from the sight of naked breasts and butts and pussies, and all the accompanying jiggles and curves that were never in short supply on the screen. Her role was to enjoy herself because the playtime was a way for them to share sex, closeness, giggles, and togetherness.

That Ned found her wet and eager when they clicked off the DVD and headed for the bedroom (or the times their eagerness meant a coupling on the sofa or the rug in front of the TV) was always interpreted as a sign that being together and knowing they would make love had been what turned her on.

Taryn wouldn't have given it a second (conscious) thought, either, if she had been filling out a survey asking whether her arousal had been because she'd been in a committed, loving relationship with the man or because viewing the DVD had been sexually stimulating.

Sure, it was probably both, Taryn now realized, but on the hypothetical survey she would certainly have checked only the "emotionally-fulfilling arousal" box and not the box indicating that seeing the DVD's naked men and their hard cocks had gotten her wet. Even given the chance to check both boxes, Taryn knew she would have resolutely said it was only because she was with her husband that she was hot and bothered.

She had never suggested that Ned try to find porn with a particular male actor because she liked seeing his hard cock, or because a certain stud had a helluva sexy ass. She couldn't remember even considering whether she should bring this up, let alone doing the simple thing and selecting the video they would watch together in order to get exactly what she wanted to see.

Looking back on things from her quickly expanding perspective prompted by the book's information, Taryn realized there actually _were_ some scenes that would have aroused her whether Ned had been watching with her or not.

_What was that actor's name?_

_Oh_, she thought, her memory train now coupling one car to another along the track of nearly-forgotten porn-vid scenes, _that silly, campy porn send-up of college life that Ned and I watched one night — damn! Even now I remember the guy playing the stripper at the sorority party_.

Her nipples tingled at the memory of the tall, nude male with the broad shoulders and pretty eyes, impressively long and stiff cock, and perfectly firm, rounded, luscious butt.

It was 3 a.m. when Taryn finished the book. Good thing tomorrow — well, today, actually — was Saturday. No classes. Time to visit her favorite home furnishings store. Time to catch the new movie she wanted to see at the local multiplex.

And time to think about what women want. About what she wanted.

Drawing the sheet and the bedspread across her body as she reached to click off the lamp on the nightstand, Taryn smiled as she thought to herself, _Maybe the book would sell more copies if it were titled, "Women Are Horndogs, Just Like Men"_.

She should have known the dream was inevitable:

Taryn was in a luxurious hotel lobby, fashionably dressed and arrayed with a tasteful pair of diamond earrings and matching necklace. Her long legs made the little black dress look even shorter, and the sexy shoes completed the ensemble perfectly.

She looked fantastic, and it felt wonderful.

Then the first naked man walked into the lobby. His pretty cock was erect; it bounced sexily with each step he took. A second man came in, also nude, also aroused. Soon Taryn was surrounded by naked men pirouetting for her, displaying themselves as she lustfully scanned her gaze up and down their sexy, delicious bodies.

She was wearing neither panties nor bra in the dream, and she was quickly visibly turned on, hard nipples evident through the flimsy material of the sexy black dress, the dampness between her legs growing more pronounced as she enjoyed looking at all the naked male cocks and butts and chests and abs.

The men smiled at her, completely comfortable with their nakedness, totally guileless in their enjoyment about displaying themselves for her pleasure. Their cocks pulsed as her gaze raked across their toned bodies. They were quite brazen, sometimes turning to present their naked backsides for her inspection, arching their backs as they leaned forward, shamelessly showing off their sexy asses.

Tall men, short men, white men, black men and Asian men and olive-skinned studs with piercing black eyes — they were all naked with hard cocks on display.

They were all were there for the sole purpose of sexually arousing Taryn, whose dream-self was truly enjoying the show, her pussy becoming so wet, so eager to enjoy being filled by one (and then another! and then another!) of the men's lovely, erect cocks that she was ready to pick any man at random and mount him.

She awoke as an athletic guy with a trim torso and an impressive erection approached, his cock bobbing with mesmerizing motions as he stepped toward her. He was flashing a handsome smile, his hands chastely clasped behind his back. A telltale drop of pre-cum glistened in the light of the lobby chandelier as Taryn scrutinized every inch of his arousal. He slowed his advance as he came near enough for her to feel the heat of him. She saw the near-purple color of the head of his cock, a clear indication that his shaft was at maximum hardness, that her allure and sex appeal and obvious sexual excitement were making him desperate to ravish her. She locked her gaze on his, her lips slightly parted as she drew in a breath, and reached for his stiff dick . . .

"Damn," she sighed, rubbing sleep from her eyes with a dejected yawn. "Haven't had a really good sex dream in a while, and then I wake up just as the guy gets close enough to touch," she groused to herself out loud as she shuffled to the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, Taryn thought more about the implications of her late-night reading as she settled down from the dream in order to relax enough to relieve the fullness of her bladder.

Has society been feeding women a load of crap for millennia about female sexuality?

Her inclination was to believe it after reading _What Do Women Want?_

A woman who liked viewing porn because it aroused her was supposed to be, at least for girls like Taryn in the relatively insulated southern town where she'd grown up, an aberration according to pastors, to mothers and aunts and teachers, to the accepted normalcy of early '90s, white-bread suburbia.

And a woman who would lubricate instead of saying, "Eewww!" while watching gay porn? She would be labeled abnormal, or bent, or maybe just a freaky slut in the absolute worst connotation of the description.

But it couldn't have been that bad, Taryn thought. She'd seen her share of _Playgirl_ issues when the magazine was still for sale on newsstands. (Or at least on certain kinds of newsstands in her town.) She and a couple of girlfriends in high school had giggled their way through a few issues, just having girl-fun and never lingering over any of the layouts. But they had looked at the guys, and Taryn had masturbated to the memory of one or two of them.

Still, she could not deny the messages she'd grown up with. Problem was, the incontrovertible evidence collected from the plethysmograph contradicted almost everything she had been taught about female sexuality.

Taryn admitted to herself that she did like seeing guys naked. And she liked seeing hard cocks. She just didn't work at finding them, easy as that would have been with the Internet only a click away on her computer.

There was still the subconscious voice, the inner censor, which must have been offering up the mantra, "Nice girls don't."

Ruminating on all of this as she poured some almond milk over a bowl of raisin bran — the perfect rainy Saturday morning breakfast — Taryn made a decision.

She was trained in the scientific method. She was capable of running a quality experiment.

_With me as the subject, why don't I replicate the study?_ she asked herself.

Intrigued and with a few butterflies of excitement tickling the insides of her tummy, Taryn shook out a little more cereal into her bowl to get that perfect milk-to-cereal ratio, then strode to her computer, the bowl cradled in one hand as she spooned more raisin bran into her mouth.

She started by typing, "porn for women," into a search engine.

Goodness.

Some of the sites were clearly just excuses to get her to buy stuff she didn't want or need. Some of the sites were nothing but tease and soft-focus pictures accompanied by euphemism-littered prose. Some of the sites had stunningly beautiful photography of naked men, often in black and white, and often composed thoughtfully and artistically, but at the expense of a full-on display of the men's genitalia.

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