by Ed Bemand
It was his favourite. He loved the feel of it under his fingers as he touched it and her.
“Good girl. Now, you will do as you’re told, won’t you?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
By the end of their conversation the buzzing had been persistent for a while and the speed of the vibrator had been turned up. The sound combined with Laura’s gasps and moans and carried through the party wall. The neighbour had heard them shagging plenty of times but he hadn’t heard anything since Richard had left. At first he assumed that she had another man over but he listened more and realised it was just her.
In time they learned to play other games, games that others might have thought odd. They found other toys to involve in their games. Sometimes they dabbled in pain but that was really just to intensify feelings. It was all about pleasure for them. Keeping things interesting meant coming up with new things for them to do with each other. Like the time that he made her sit there for half an hour with clothes pegs on her nipples, or the time that she made him bind his cock into a tight little bundle with a shoelace and then teased him with the most exquisite whisperings while his cock strained painfully against its bindings. He could have untied it any time he wanted, just as she could have removed the pegs, or never put them there in the first place. They could have just lied and pretended. That wasn’t the point. The point was to do it all regardless, to play the game wholeheartedly.
Laura and Richard took it in turns to be dominant and submissive in this part of their relationship. They both knew the pleasures that could be derived through adopting either position and would not have chosen to be denied half the fun be restricting themselves to only one role in the relationship.
It wasn’t always easy for them to find the time to make sure they were there for each other and often when they spoke they didn’t have long enough to do more than just chat briefly, but at least once a week they would take it in turns to make sure that the other climaxed.
“What would you like me to do?”
“Show me that you’re mine.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to shave for me.”
“What?”
“Your pussy. I’d like you to shave it.”
“Oh really, you’ve never said that before. Why?”
“It would turn me on thinking about you doing it.”
“On one condition. You’ve got to do it too.”
“I haven’t got one.”
“You know what I mean. Will you do it?”
“Why?”
“It would turn me on thinking about you doing it.”
“Anything for you.”
Though it would have been possible to not do it and just pretend Richard couldn’t find it in himself to do so. They did it while talking to each other, cradling the phone awkwardly as they told each other to cut their pubic hair with scissors. Richard found it very difficult to hold the phone and use a razor at the same time. He was experienced enough at wielding a razor over his face without fear of drawing blood but this was new to him and he was fearful of damaging himself. Laura shaved her legs and underarms at least once a week and always kept herself neat, removing substantial portions of her pubic hair on a regular basis so she found it easy.
“Tell me that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
By the end of the year they were both very comfortable with their assumed roles. As the time approached for him to return home she became nervous about seeing him again. They had created new identities for themselves in the conversations they had had. She had said things to him she could never have imagined herself saying to anyone before. He had talked to her about doing things that had always sounded shameful and unpleasant and something about the distance between them and the reliance upon speakers and microphones made it seem like it was their minds that were connecting more closely now that their bodies could not. She was scared that it wouldn’t be the same for them now, just living together. The combination of his words and her fingers had guided her to more powerful orgasms than she had ever experienced from the touch of any man.
It seemed strange when they were back together. She met him at the airport. They kissed and embraced for a long time. Their first night together they were both too preoccupied with simply being close again to even want sex, plus Richard was tired and jet-lagged. They slept late the next day. When Richard woke up he could smell frying food. She came into the bedroom a few minutes later carrying breakfast.
They went out for dinner that night, to a restaurant they had spent a few lovely evenings in before he had gone away. By the time they left with good food and a bottle of wine in them apiece they were feeling pretty good about themselves. When they got home they headed straight upstairs and started shedding clothes.
Things were awkward. They kept getting in each other’s way. There seemed to be too many arms and legs for the bed to easily accommodate them both. After half an hour of inconclusive fumbling that was doing nothing to arouse either of them Laura muttered something obscene under her breath and disentangled herself from his embrace.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, though it was clear what was.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just stay here.”
A buzzing vibration from the bed-side table alerted him that his phone was ringing. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. Her name was blazoned across it. He smiled and answered the phone.
Two: How a virgin had many children
There are many ways in which technology can be used to help bring people together but it can also make it easy for people to be alone and still get what they need.
James was what might bluntly be described as an inveterate wanker. It was a habit that he had got into young and excessive repetition had never diminished the pleasure he took in the act. It was a rare day that passed without him finding at least one opportunity to fondle himself to climax and more often than not there would be two or three sessions of self gratification per day.
Psychologically, James was independent. Even as a child he seemed scarcely interested in spending time with his peers. It wasn’t even because he was shy, he simply didn’t see a point in engaging with other people. Why would he want to waste his time and energy on trying to forge intimacy with others when his own hand was so able to offer him everything that he could have needed with such a small amount of effort?
This mindset developed as he aged, manifesting in a persistent disinterest in those around him. His own hand gripped around his cock was as close as he ever needed to get to human contact. His mother would later tease him with tales of his refusal to let go of himself as a toddler. Apparently left to his own devices he would permanently have had a hand down inside his trousers.
So far, so commonplace. There are many who if obliged to be honest can admit that they are happiest in their own company and it is a rare person that is incapable of giving themselves pleasure.
He had no need for pornography or fantasy. He wasn’t trying to project his lusts upon some imagined other person. His hand was his hand and that it was his hand that made him cum was a good thing to him. What could be more satisfying than staring down into the eye of his own cock, seeing it squirt forth his pleasure as he pumped it with his hands?
It was a basic physical process. Applied stimulation and pressure in the right places brought about a desired result. He had been known to spend hours pumping away until his wrists ached from the strain and the skin of his cock felt chafed. If his cock was battered and sore it made it harder to do his favourite thing and doing it again would only make it worse. Stopping didn’t feel like a viable option. He rapidly learned the advantage of lubricants to minimise the chance of it happening.
As a teenager, when others were eager to spend their time and money on intoxication and youthful indiscretions James was happier focussing on his studies. When he ti
red of his labours, he could always take a break to spend time doing his favourite thing. It became practically a ritual for him. So much work done entitled him to so much time wanking.
A positive side-effect of James’ self-sufficiency was that it left him freer of distractions than usual for a youth of his age and bestowed as he was with an above average if not remarkable level of intelligence and academic ability, he was able to do very nicely for himself in his schooling, even if it was a frequent comment from the teachers that it was nigh on impossible to get him to engage in any form of collective or co-operative activity. The only sports he demonstrated an interest in were solo pursuits and his ability as a distance runner was great enough that his games teacher rapidly became resigned to leaving James to spend his games lessons just running. He justified it with the very occasional trophies that James won when he took part in local competitions.
As an adult James continued to be satisfied enough with his own company that he never bothered to make any real friends, or have any sexual relationships. He remained a virgin even if he continued to give himself pleasure on a very regular basis.
He developed a moderately successful academic career with a focus on literary criticism and analysis. While lacking in any personal creative abilities himself he had a keen analytical mind and was always ready to find fault with others.
He never made very much money in his work and even the quiet and independent life he led on occasion required more than he had available and it was this that first led him to consider selling his genetic material. The university that he worked at had a strong biomedical presence and even though their laboratories were not his usual haunt he became aware by chance that due to shortages in suitable material they were offering more than usually generous expense payments to those that were willing to share their time and their seed. What could possibly be better than to be paid for what he spent so much of his time doing?
He booked an appointment and was subjected to questions about his medical history and a basic check-up. When asked to produce an initial sample he spurned the offered literature to assist him. He was well practised at this act and had no need of artificial stimulus.
He deposited his sample in the receptacle provided, then returned to the desk and handed it to them. He left the clinic and waited for the verdict on the quality of his seed.
A few days later he was summoned for a second appointment. To his immense satisfaction it was confirmed that he had very healthy sperm and it would make a fine addition to their repository. After that he went back for regular appointments, expressing more of his seed each time.
Over time he made more deposits than he could remember and grew to look forward to his visits with the eagerness that others might have had for a liaison with a fresh new partner. The pots he was given to fill were like a succession of lovers, each represented to him a kind of conquest. The still small amount of money that he was given in compensation for his efforts was rapidly forgotten. He grew to find more pleasure in the manipulations of his cock in the confines of a small institutional room at the clinic than he had previously been able to milk from himself in his bed.
Over the years the sperm that he had deposited was used to help give many people children that they might not otherwise have been able to have, and these people in turn were acting as a way for James to have the children that his habits and predilections precluded. When in due course James died still a virgin, he left behind him many children even if they didn’t know him to mourn him. In earlier times that such a man could leave so many progeny behind him without ever touching a woman would be considered a miracle or vile sorcery, depending on who was judging it. Such simple proof once again of the marvels that man’s science can work.
Three: How Lucille became a woman & lost a friend
Lucille and Thérèse had been friends for years. They had attended a succession of schools together and had been a part of each other’s lives for as long as they could remember. The constancy had brought them close.
Through childhood Lucille had been plump, something her parents had always explained away as puppy fat. They were proved right when she shed the majority of it shortly after her sixteenth birthday but she was never destined to be a waif. She had stopped growing in height when she was thirteen.
Her mother had always told her off for not being graceful and feminine enough but it didn’t matter, Lucille just liked to do what she liked, and if sometimes that meant climbing trees or falling off bikes and getting muddy and grazing her knees, why shouldn’t she? She liked girlish pursuits too and lavished a great deal of affection on her beloved toys and dolls over the years, but never saw why that should stop her from doing anything else. She loved to draw and paint and spent lots of time messily creating works of art. Her mother was politely enthusiastic but her father criticised her for wasting her time on such ephemeral pursuits. He believed in the value of honest work and didn’t like the thought that Lucille would allow herself to be distracted by useless things rather than focussing her efforts somewhere more appropriate. When she was older she would need to either have a decent enough job to be able to fend for herself, or find a rich man to look after her.
Thérèse was skinnier. Her hair was very dark and seemed to naturally shine with rich lustre. Thérèse had been a tiny thing through childhood but kept growing through puberty, in time becoming taller than Lucille. She was delicate and graceful and didn’t like to get her hands dirty. She was a wilful child and would rapidly descend to hysterics if she didn’t get what she wanted.
Lucille and Thérèse spent a lot of their time together, drifting freely between each other’s houses. Lucille had been more laid back and willing to go along with what Thérèse wanted as a child. She didn’t really mind whose house they ended up having dinner at, though she did find it embarrassing that Thérèse didn’t think they should warn anyone and preferred to just turn up and expect to be fed. Despite her slender frame she had always had a hearty appetite.
Lucille was one of five, the middle child. She felt like just part of the scenery for her parents a lot of the time. Thérèse had been raised alone by her mother since her father’s departure when she was three. Thérèse had been too young when her father left to have any real understanding of why he had left but she always blamed her mother for it. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Thérèse had asked after him for a while after he left, but the answers had always been the same, her mother didn’t know anything. After a while she stopped asking. It had been a long time since either of them had mentioned him.
As the only child with an absent father Thérèse monopolised her mother’s attention to a great extent. She also had a strong temper. Thérèse’s mother always looked a bit stressed. She worked a lot and spent the majority of the time that she was not working attending to Thérèse’s wants for years. Her name was Monique.
When Thérèse was a teenager, almost a decade after her father left, Monique nervously brought up the subject of men. After so long alone, she wanted to start dating again, hopefully she would meet someone. Thérèse was awkward and objectionable about it, but Monique was sincere. It led to Thérèse staying at Lucille’s house more often so Monique could go out.
Lucille’s parents were used to being constantly inundated with children between the five that were their own plus each child’s friends that had a tendency to drift in and out and treat the house as their own. They cared for all of their children but the number of them that they had sometimes made it difficult for them to be able to spend very much time with them as individuals. There was just a collective sense of the presence of “the children” in the house and it was a comfortably variable commodity as different ones were present each day. It was no great imposition for Lucille’s parents when Thérèse stayed the night. Lucille’s mother always cooked as if expecting a crowd to appear at any moment. And though not much interested in the finer side of cuisine, she was more than capable of creating a hearty repast suitable for sating the appetite
s of garrulous children.
Monique started to see a man regularly. it meant that Thérèse spent more nights with Lucille. The man she was seeing was called Jean-Luc. He was older than her and a widower of some years. Monique and Jean-Luc married when Thérèse was seventeen. He moved into the house and brought his son by his first wife with him. The boy was named Armand. He was a couple of years older than Thérèse. He had dark hair and eyes. He went to parties and had girlfriends. He even had a job, driving a van delivering stuff for his father’s company.
Since Thérèse’s father had left, the people who had spent the most time in the house had been Monique, Thérèse and Lucille. No men had spent any great amount of time there in long years. There was an inevitable time of adjustment as the household had to come to terms with this sudden influx of masculinity.
Thérèse and Armand didn’t seem to get on that well. They bickered like real siblings and Thérèse seemed to resent the additional freedoms that Armand was accustomed to having, as well as the intrusions upon the space that she was used to being the unspoken ruler of and now was being usurped by this man. It was Jean-Luc that Monique listened to now. He would even tell Thérèse what to do sometimes.
Lucille was spending the night in Thérèse’s house for a sleepover. Thérèse hadn’t bothered to mention it to her mother and step-father who already had plans elsewhere for the evening. Thérèse had made it clear that they were capable of looking after themselves without needing to be supervised.
When questioned about his own plans for the evening Armand had shrugged and said he was “going out” but wouldn’t be drawn on the details.
Between the two of them the girls managed to make dinner and pass the evening happily enough without causing any major damage to the house. Lucille had an improvisational approach to cooking and Thérèse preferred to stand back and advise rather than be too directly involved in the work.
They watched films and gossiped about their friends. Thérèse took pride in being the first to hear any salacious news about any of their schoolmates and couldn’t resist spreading a juicy rumour. She seemed to know exactly who everyone that they knew had ever kissed or done anything else with. Lucille wasn’t sure that she understood the reason for being so interested in such details.
