Exploring the Springs: Part 2
Chilling in the spa at my condo complex on Monday evening, surrounded by bubbles that attempted to excite every part of my feminine body simultaneously, and accompanied by a second glass of wine--disguised as a large bottle of diet soda, I pondered why I was pursuing a boy with a miniature penis when my vagina felt more isolated than a lone sailor in a submarine. The realization of mepetitively running my hands up and down the hard surface of the soda bottle only fueled my embarrassment.
Warm water excites my desires, and I hoped no nearby neighbors could see me.
Chunky is much younger than I am, isn't pursuing me, and never bothered to share his name even after I initially presented mine. Furthermore, he flaunts his exposed body--sitting nude in a hot desert spring where females frequently remark on the small size of his penis, which, it's fair to say, is laughably small.
A hot spring that manipulates my libido like a plaything, yet strangely doesn't impact him in the slightest.
And while two hours of primping and touching him didn't get the boy any closer to achieving an erection, neither did playfully licking the tip of my water bottle or adjusting the exposure of my top. The boy was completely exposed, sitting next to me for two hours. Is it that unrealistic to expect a naked guy in the prime of his sexuality to have an erection for a woman in her prime as well?
What was I thinking? What could this boy possibly provide for me? Chunky is a pathetic boy, embarrassing, and is just too tiny to satisfy any woman. Certainly, he's too tiny to satisfy me. Would I ever want to face potential shame by being seen with him in public again? It's also probably too much to expect a boy who goes naked in public to have good manners.
When we parted ways, I yearned to trace my daring fingers down Chunky's muscular chest to mess around with his puny acorn that I pictured would soon mature into a formidable oak. To egg his minuscule member into something more respectable. I could have played with that diminutive dong for hours, trying to coerce him into a mature stage.
Something so impressive that it would make other women envious while also satisfying my unmet feminine needs. Yes, I have feminine needs.
The bubbles still needed another twenty minutes to dissipate, and at the rate I was going with this wine, I wondered if I could drink the entire box during the night. I noticed my fingers exploring the entrance of the plastic soda bottle, around and around, then up and down the edge of the bottle. "I'm out of batteries," I thought, gazing down at the rippling water, "but oh, what I would give for a submarine to come cruising around these bubbly waters right about now."
Ashamed, I hoped no neighbors could observe my actions.
"Still, though," I said to myself, "the boy has a handsome visage, a toned body, and if I were to fully transition into a Cougar with this boy, how would I explain the meeting to others?"
What would people think? It's true that single women perpetuate other women's loneliness, given their frosty disposition. They mocked him; they can mock him again. It would be fitting if I jerked him off in front of numerous women. I wouldn't stop stimulating his penis until the boy ejaculated, no matter how long it took or who was watching.
"So you like being exposed to so many women? How would you feel if I initiated a hand job - one that is long overdue - with all these women staring? Would you be ashamed enough to push my hands away or would you be overwhelmed by the pleasure growing in your tiny lingam? Both of us know the answer."
Spectacles like this should be more frequent--naked boys jerked to the point of forced ejaculation in front of countless jeering women.
However, with the last gulp of wine, I found a new perspective, and I started to consider what Chunky may have wanted from this relationship. Sure, at this point, we just crossed paths, but if this were to turn into a long-term relationship, I should likely start thinking about Chunky in those terms.
And now the bottle was empty.
"The experience, not the end goal" is what ladies often share with each other. For men, it's about reaching the end point – but ladies, why not add some unpredictability to the journey? Any woman carrying lubricant and additional tissues in her purse will always have a romantic interest.
I have a little expertise in giving hand jobs.
Furthermore, a second glass of wine and being in a hot desert climate significantly influences my sexual desires. Strangely, I'm considering performing a hand job on a male partner the same age as when I first did it, this time in a public space, and yet I still don't know his name.
I always enjoyed giving hand jobs. The sensual feeling of control over a man's sexual orgasm is captivating. "Wow, look how big you're getting." For beginners, the psychological game of manipulating their thoughts is effective. Boys don't necessarily need a scenario; they just need a hand job, followed by another, and another. I was long overdue in giving them.
However, I had an agenda for Stubby.
Early Tuesday morning, I parked in the lot leading to the trailhead, noticing only one other car there. After hiking to the hot spring, I figured out where the noisy sound was coming from near the warmest pool. "Eileen, is that you?"
"Morning, sweetheart," I replied, turning towards the warmest pool. Once I entered the upper cavern and found Stubby, his body was covered in water just up to his thighs. "It's great seeing you, sweetheart. Wait for a moment while I change, okay?"
I seated myself next to him. My white swimwear, when wet, would partially disappear. As I embraced him, wrapping his arm around me, I tilted my body toward his.
I was about to kiss a naked boy in a public area, where someone could interrupt us at any time. "The water is so hot," I exclaimed, striking a romantic and erotic pose. Kissing him passionately on the lips, I was subsequently taking advantage of the natural eroticism created by the balmy pools, their surroundings accentuating desire, much like the flowers and wildlife in an Eden.
When we first met in nature, I found myself in an Eveless paradise. It's a paradoxical relationship between man and nature: society borrows from nature while contradicting it at the same time. I wanted to dominate this male figure representing such an allure.
My hands traveled to Stubby's hips. I then slid them to his thighs and back to his chest. I was treating him like an octopus, choosing not to touch his penis. His breathing quickened, though there was little reaction from the boy. He fully surrendered himself to me.
The moment was prime, the spot picture-perfect, the encounter phenomenal. I could do whatever I wanted with his naked body – taming him. My mission: to increase the size of his penis beyond its limitations and satisfy myself. Embracing the journey's unpredictability would benefit both of us.
If Stubby preferred playing a passive role, then I'd tame his wild side. I seized his wrists. "You have the body of a god," I proclaimed, while staring into his eyes. As I alternated between kissing his face and whispering to him, "I could spend all day making love to you." I also mentioned the names of the ladies in my hiking group one by one. "Imagine fifty women watching you and all the things they'd like to do with you."
He had arousing body proportions, and I couldn't resist touching his naked skin – all except his penis. Occasionally, my forearm brushed past it, or perhaps my elbow would graze it by mistake. I'd toy with him, touching his body unintentionally. Sooner or later, he would receive his hand job. But before reaching that favored destination, let's explore some detours.
"You would break if fifty women were interested in you, and they would all covet your penis. Are you sure you'll make it big for me?" I massaged his torso and hips.
"Sweetheart, I've got something for you," I said, gripping his member fiercely. When I applied pressure, his body tensed, but I still hoped to guide it in. However, after repeatedly stroking him, he didn't grow any larger. I slowed down, joking, "I'm in no rush, and nor are you, apparently."
I imposed another tight squeeze.
We fluctuated between fast and slow strokes until I discerned that he was nearing climax, at which point I discontinued entirely and resumed kissing him. He returned the kisses. "Everyone will be watching you."
The hot water continued to soothe my skin, and I recited the names of my fellow hiking club members: Brenda, Angela, Mylene, and Patricia. "Imagining what these women would do to you - all of them: Brenda, Angela, Mylene, Patricia, and Caroline...especially Caroline." I accelerated my hand movements until he was about to climax again, but he didn't expand.
"You're powerless, defenseless man. There's an audience of women watching you, and you're incapable of resisting." I resumed stroking and kissing.
It became apparent that Stubby would have a small penis for life, and I would never receive the vaginal intercourse I wanted from him. Nevertheless, there's no shame associated with hand jobs, and as I sensed he was about to cum, I completed him.
Out of nowhere, Stubby's gentle kisses transformed into passionate French kissing - his tongue snaked down my throat, seeking to delve as deeply as possible. I couldn't breathe. The boy was climaxing, and he was insatiable.
I recognized at that moment that Stubby didn't need a large penis to fulfill my desires for consistent penetrative vaginal sex or to satisfy my womanly urges. [Imagery of ladies from the hiking club, children playing in the background, and hiking equipment scattered along the hiking trails.] this is just a simple paraphrase of a sexual scene, nothing more nothing less. also using some elements to add some things to make it sounds more engaging and interesting. I hope you like it :)
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