I'll Safeguard Your Confidence
My mischievous fingertips explore the contours of Jackson's shirtless body, starting from his neck and grazing down to his chest. Every so often, I let my sharp nails graze his bare skin. I try to avoid touching his nipples at first.
But not for long.
"You have a captivating physique," I admit, "the part that I can see, that is. Your body is so responsive, but I won't hold you responsible for your response," I add, even if it sounds a bit insincere. "If you were to remove your trousers, even just briefly, in a public park, my hands would continue exploring, towards your belt - obviously - and I won't blame you for it. How could I blame you, given how handsome you are and how naturally tempting you are to me as a woman?"
I inform first-time guys about this being a "skin massage" - something we do after we develop a friendship and choose to meet at a park. I simply can't resist it. "You need to take off your shirt and cover your eyes with it like a blindfold," I instruct, "then lie down on your back."
Teenage boys are enamored with a woman's touch.They're helpless against the pleasure of my "torturous touch," and at the same time, they're compelled to confess their deepest secrets when prompted. Blindfolded and shirtless, teenage boys are like putty in my hands.
I mold them into something more submissive, as they're already that way.
Teenage boys crave the approval of women like me - mature ladies with attractive features and who pay attention to their appearance. A boy's earliest fantasies revolve around his mother. I serve as a sensual substitute for that kneejerk devotion. When I'm out looking for boys, I dress professionally but with a touch of glamor: the blouse is tighter than a business office, the skirt tighter still, and the heels slightly higher. My look is classy, intriguing for men but not overly suggestive enough to draw crude comments.
When I initially meet boys, I try to portray a subdued air of 'the governess look' - one that stimulates their adolescent fantasies: flawless makeup, restrictive clothing, and an air of authority and confidence. It's easy to recognize inexperienced boys, those who'd obey the word of a dominant older woman and never dare to initiate or reciprocate any physical interaction. They make the best candidates for what I'm ultimately after.
Even in the early stages of their development, boys are ready to take off their clothes for me. Even in a public place. Even if I'm the one suggesting it.
Teenage boys also tell me I have a pleasing voice. It's a British accent, which instantly infatuates lads from Jackson's country. When I spend time with such boys, I speak deliberately and with a softer tone than usual.
The moment I put my hand on their bodies while addressing them leaves them completely still. Their breathing adjusts as if on cue.
This is my second encounter and first "date" with Jackson; we convene in a secluded corner of a park adjacent to the university. The grassy hills offer us a bit of privacy. For this meetup, I've toned down the 'governess look' in favor of something less intimidating, aiming to establish myself more as a stand-in for Jackson's sexuality than as a sexual object myself.
It's a hot afternoon, and I'm reclining on a blanket, pressing my back against a tree, relaxing in my bare shoes. Jackson's head rests on my lap. Jackson's arms are at his sides, seemingly frozen in place. I know this park well, visiting it often.
Engaging boys is very simple; their upbeat disposition makes them enjoyable company. Jackson's bare chest lies before me, and I can't help but deviate my hands from their designated course, but only for a short time.
"You must remain completely motionless," I tell him politely but firmly.
Jackson is 19, an obvious Home Stay student, and definitely still a virgin. He has a delicate, stick-like figure. My fingers hesitate before reaching his nipples but quickly resume their caressing once they make contact, slowly rubbing, twisting, and massaging his erect nipples.
The touch is quite gentle.
"I can see that someone appreciates this," I murmur, prompting Jackson to respond with another sound of delight. My thumbs and index fingers remain secure, while the others lightly explore the nearby skin, causing him to shiver and sigh. "Is this pleasurable?" I inquire, "or should I go back to the massage?"
I move away from his erogenous areas, massaging his shoulders and arms instead. I abruptly transition the dialog to the weather, feigning distraction, and then I readjust his shirt, which acts as a makeshift blindfold.
"You're a very handsome young man," I coo silently, "attractive enough to make an older woman lose her mind."
We shared a moment of silence while I continued with gentle caresses. Jackson's trousers were now noticeably tighter. I complimented his physique - his chest and shoulders, emphasizing how appealing he is, then switched our talk back to ordinary topics. On this second date, my objective is not solely arousal, but rather to encourage him to vocalize his arousal.
"I'm not fond of being touched - but you enjoy being touched, and I find it pleasurable to do so."
Two passersby observed us, to which I smiled and waved. What could be odd about a young man relaxing in a park, with a woman in her forties resting her head in his lap?
I'm convinced that by the second meeting, I could persuade Jackson or any teenager his age to become nude in a public space.
We progressed to the psychological stage of the session, as I inquired about his fantasies. Using leading questions, I investigated his deepest desires, helping him begin the confession process. I ran my fingers through Jackson's hair, and his body began to relax. I returned to his torso.
"Please, be honest - do you appreciate looking at mature ladies - at their legs, their faces, their bosoms, don't you? Women my age?"
This touching was now akin to a genuine massage. I urged him to undo his trouser buckle, which he willingly did.
"Describe a recent encounter - a woman you found attractive. What did she look like? What were her attires?"
Lads tend to be reserved at first in the psychological stage, but they grow more candid as the conversation deepens. They crave mature ladies with pretty faces and curvy bodies but not overly so. "If a woman like this invited you home, you would come, and if she wanted to kiss you, you'd reciprocate, of course, you'd kiss her."
Their responses start as censored affirmations, indicating that they'd be comfortable with such an encounter from me. However, when I rephrase the questions as hypothetical situations, I've been met with unwarranted confessions. "I'd strip naked for her, if she commandeered me," or in Jackson's case, "there's a woman living next door..."
Confession is healthy, so I inquired about the woman, urging Jackson to describe her, and what she wore. She generally wore skirts and dresses, and on occasions, she'd smile at him as he passed. Only after persistent prodding does Jackson acknowledge that his neighbor has sizable breasts.
Firm breasts that bounce seductively.
"Big breasts look beautiful on a woman, don't you think? And it's perfectly acceptable for a lad your age to admire a grown woman with big breasts. I'm convinced that she LIKES you admiring her breasts, and you've likely seen her dressed in skimpy outfits before - perhaps a shirt with a few buttons unbuckled?"
Through roundabout questions and coaxing, Jackson admitted that he masturbates to his neighbor's cleavage, yet he begged me not to expose his secret.
"Your secret is safe with me," I reassure. I trace my fingertips on his nipples, giving him my final touch in slow, circular movements until his respiration quickens and his spine curves slightly. "I won't reveal to anyone that you enjoy this, either."
The massage came to a close, and I took away his shirt, moving it to a distance. I resumed small talk. School was going well, he missed his family back home, but now that he was aware of the spectators, his reaction seemed uneasy, though this is a crucial aspect of the conditioning.
"Keep your eyes shut," I say in an exaggerated sentimental tone, causing him to oblige. I trailed my nails over his chest. "I touch you and you don't touch me - is this your agreement?"
Jackson gives a nod in agreement. "There's no need for you to take off your pants, love, even though it's a sunny day outside."
I share a story about my friend who's married and has a young man living next door to her — "a neighbor guy around your age" — who likes to sunbathe naked in his backyard in the afternoons. "She's not single, you need to know," I note, "but it's definitely tempting."
Jackson's breath catches. "You look good without your shirt on," I say again. "It's enough to make a woman forget herself."
I caress his leg, making sure not to touch his growing bulge, but I fiddle with the unfastened belt. "You have a lovely body," I admit, "I mean, the part that's visible."
I'm aware that I can have Jackson strip off in a public park. Or any young man his age, really.
Read also:
- My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
- Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2
- Roommates Fall in Love
- The Apprentice's Desires in Chapter 4
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