Over the next nine months, Sharron and I explored the boundaries of our friendship and our new Clothed Female — Nude Male relationship together. Honestly, I have to say it was nothing short of incredible and breathtaking. Sharron was a perfect and considerate host during my naked visits to her condo – she went to great lengths to make me feel at home – and each time, I enjoyed it more and more.
I ended up spending one CFNM weekend a month with Sharron. Each weekend, we would start out the same way; she would meet me at the door, let me in and then let me give her a nice long hug. I would gently pull her into me, anticipating the feel of her breasts against my chest as we hugged. She would allow me to hold her for as long as I wanted, taking in the fragrance of her hair or her perfume as we hugged. My hands would travel across her back, always hoping to discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra, but I was never that lucky. Sometimes, I would maneuver my hands to her side and try to inch them under her arms to sneak a feel of the sides of her breasts. She would usually allow my hands to get close enough to barely brush her boobs before she pulled away and smiled knowingly at me.
Then, she would walk directly to her couch, make herself comfortable and have me stand in front of her. There, neither of us said a word as I proceeded to strip naked while she watched. Most times, I would have an erection before I had my shirt off, but if I wasn’t hard by the time I was naked, she took great joy in taking my softness in her hands and massaging me until I was hard as stone. I just loved watching the expression on her face as she transformed my penis into a pulsating, throbbing erection – she seemed to enjoy doing it as much I enjoyed her doing it.
When I was naked and hard, she would carefully fold my clothes, hand them to me, and ask me to put my clothes ‘away’. Then, as was our custom, I would walk to the wooden chest she bought just for this purpose, open the top and place my clothes inside. Each week, I ceremoniously locked the chest with the open padlock she hung from the latch, effectively putting my nakedness at her mercy until she unlocked the padlock before I went home at the end of the weekend. We both knew the padlock wasn’t really necessary, but, it was a symbolic act on my part to tell her I was ready and willing to be her naked man – at her beck and call — to do what ever she wanted for the whole weekend.
Once my clothes were locked away, she would sometimes have me stand in front of her and turn around. Reaching around my body, she would grasp my cock in her hands and press her chest against my back while she stroked me. Ever so lightly, she rubbed her breasts against me from side to side while she moved her hands up and down my cock and I would melt into the feeling — closing my eyes and swooning at her closeness. In my mind, I always begged that she wouldn’t stop, but she got so good at sensing my arousal, she would stop and let go of my penis when she knew I was approaching orgasm. Sharron knew just the right thing to say, or do, to bring me to the edge of an explosion and then she would stop. She became a master at making my nakedness feel so normal and good to me, telling me how much she liked my cock and how beautiful it was. Every CFNM weekend was a boost to my ego and I never once regretted my decision to completely bare myself to her.
At the end of the very first weekend, we decided the time had gone too quickly. So after that, I began to arrive at her condo on Friday evening and left to go home either late Sunday night, or early Monday morning. The rules were few and simple: I was to remain naked at all times unless she requested I wear something. In that event, she would go to the wooden chest and retrieve what she wanted me to wear, or she would simply hand me something and tell me to put it on. By my second visit, she’d purchased a few embarrassing things she wanted me to wear for her, including a collection of men’s thongs, mesh t-shirts and some amazing silk briefs with a sleeve hanging out the front to hold my cock. Oh, man, when I wore those briefs for her, my cock would stick out lewdly making me feel more on display than when I was naked. Jokingly, she named them my “Elephant Undies” because my silk-wrapped erection would stick out in front of me when I wore them.
We agreed that I wouldn’t try to hide myself in any way, either soft, hard, front or back, which also meant I had to resign myself to constantly be on display to her. Along with that, she could touch me anywhere, at any time and without asking. Sharron realized pretty quickly that she needed to have tissues handy at all times since her touching almost always produced a few drops of precum at the tip of my member. I laughed at the way she would cradle my hardness in one hand as she wiped the tip of my penis with the tissue.
There were restrictions for me, however, in that I could only touch my genitals if she was watching. She was understanding and gracious about letting me masturbate, though, especially during those times when I would get constant erections throughout the day or night. Many times, she would offer to finish me off by hand and a few times she actually took me in her mouth and let me cum down her throat.
And, Sharron would tease me incessantly. Some of it was blatant and obvious, and some of it was subtle. Sometimes she would wear a certain perfume she knew would make my cock as hard as steel. Sometimes she would dress in demure ways but wear her hair in a way I told her looked sexy, and sometimes she would wear just a t-shirt and her panties. Sometimes she was lady-like and modest, and sometimes it was evident she was intentionally trying to dress seductively. But, I was never chastised for looking at her. I think she was excited to see the way she affected me. But, a lot changed after one of our long talks one Friday night — perhaps I said too much because she learned many things about me she didn’t know before.
Let me explain. You see, typically Friday nights were relaxing evenings for us. We would usually watch a movie or just sit and talk on her couch while we shared a bottle of wine. More often than not, her hand would eventually find its way into my lap and she would casually fondle my cock or my balls, or I might masturbate myself lazily while we talked and she watched. It was during one of those Friday nights that Sharron decided she wanted to play a game.
“Let’s each write down twenty questions to ask each other,” Sharron explained, “then I’ll pick a number and you can ask me the question that goes with that number.” She went on to tell me we would take turns picking a number and answering a question. We had to answer the question fully and truthfully – asking a few questions now and saving the rest for another time.
Soon, we both had written down our questions and she volunteered to pick a number and answer a question first. “Okay,” I said, “pick a number.”
“Thirteen!” She exclaimed. “That’s my lucky number. Ask away.”
I looked down my page and read to myself the question I wrote for number thirteen. After reading it, I grimaced and looked up at her. “You sure?” I asked. “That one is kind of a personal question.” I warned.
“I don’t care.” She replied. “Wait ’till you hear some of mine!” She said, giggling.
“Well, okay, if you insist,” I began, “but, remember you have to answer fully and truthfully.”
“I will,” she answered, “read me the question.”
I took a deep breath and asked “Do you ever think about having sex with me?”
She let go of my cock and pulled her hand into her own lap and stared at me. I knew I had caught her off guard and immediately wished I would have switched the questions and asked something else, but, after a second she said “Can I get a clarification?”
I told her she could and then she asked “Do you mean just having sex — as in just ‘fucking’, or do you mean ‘making love’?”
“Both.” I answered.
“Alright,” she said, “honestly, the answer to both is ‘Yes'”. She went on to explain that the idea of making love with me left her with too much fear that she would fall in love with me, and she knew that would most certainly end up going bad and then we wouldn’t be friends any more. “On the other hand,” she added, “I totally love that beautiful cock of yours. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it turns me on to see it and touch it. And if I thought we could have sex without YOU falling in love with me again, I would be constantly having sex with you. But to answer your question….. yes, after that one time we did it, I would love to fuck you again….. I’ve thought about it a lot. More than a lot, actually.”
I started to ask her to explain that last statement, but she stopped me saying I could only ask one question at a time, and it was now my turn to pick a number and answer one of her questions. Well, fair is fair I guess. “Alright,” I replied, “give me number five.”
Now, I figured she had some personal questions on her list, and I knew I was eventually going to have to answer one, but I didn’t think she was going to clobber me with a huge personal question right off the bat. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“You told me once that you think about me when you masturbate,” she began, half giggling, “I want you to tell me exactly what you think about.”