Not Just Another Happy Ending

This piece of erotica was one of two (Managing His Member) created to complete the Sexually Speaking series on hand jobs.  Malflic represented the Male Perspective, Alice King the Female side of the story and then they combined in a conversation to close things out.  This story while fiction is set in Mal’s hometown and touches on an unpublished Fetish of his.  An obsession with paper quality (no matter what the paper is for ) and his own custom stationary, it’s a little too American Psycho for me at times but is as much a part of who he is as vintage amplifiers,  book collections, far too many bags of rope, and the omnipresent boots.   Besides he’s the only guy I’ve met who orders custom paper just to write me dirty notes on.   
Happy Perving!
The Chesty Blonde  
Not Just Another Happy Ending

Liberty Avenue
Liberty Avenue in Pittsburgh was once well know for hookers, porn shops, and Nude dancers

Sex and a fair amount of it was really just part of their regular routine.   Dress Up, costumes, any flavor of sexy role play was pretty much par for the course but in the end it really came down to both Tom & Liz just loved to get each other off.   It started with a healthy carnal appetite that was fed by 52 Invitations to Great Sex which they had taken as inspiration to turn into more than 4 years worth of weekend long pleasure fests that ranged from simple and intimate to gratuitous, decadent, and frenzied.  Each of course held its own special charm.
Every other weekend had planned fantasies. With the couple alternating whose turn it was to plan and share.  The in between ones were left to capricious lustful whimsy.  Tom’s planned weekend adventures always started the same way. A small envelope containing a linen note card would appear.   From there it went one of two ways; meticulous instructions for the entire scenario, or a simple tease.  Something that was just enough to tantalize until the next card arrived with more details, requests, or instructions.  Liz on the other hand was the reigning queen of hints. Not one who was predisposed to written plans but rather she would spend the entire week hinting at her plans and intentions for the coming weekend.  Then when the time was right she would more or less spring on him what she had in mind.
 
This time though it was a little different. It was Liz’s turn to pick the festivities but not so much as a word escaped her lips.  On Wednesday she asked if Tom could give her a ride to work on Friday. It seemed like a senseless request but he simply agreed.   A minor inconvenience, a change of a well established routine but nothing he would let eat at him.  Thursday came and went without a hint of her plans.   Work had been hectic so perhaps it was just going to be a whatever type few days all last minute spur of the moment.  It wouldn’t be a first he thought because no matter what occasionally other parts of life get in the way.  Holidays were a prime example of this.  Friday at exactly noon Liz’s text came across and read.  “I’ll be running a little late today.   Call before coming to pick me up.”   Whatever he thought and went back to work.  His expectations were lowering themselves for the coming weekend’s escapade.   Secretly he had hoped she had something really different in store, the past few months when it came to her turn the spark of new and fresh idea’s just wasn’t quite there.   Perhaps it was time for a break or change in what had been an amazing routine.
At 4:30 a text from Liz came across. Tom thought oh here we go she’s going to be really late.  He could feel himself getting annoyed, getting stressed out.  It was silly but changes in routine especially this routine were not something he enjoyed.   He tried to adjust but when he saw.  “Going to be 90 minutes late. Have a beer or 2 but not too many.  I’ll let you know when I’m finishing up.”   Tom spent the next 30 minutes staring at his computer, not working, not thinking about work, not putting the finishing touches on anything but just trying not to get agitated with Liz.   At 5:15 he finally shut down and headed for the door.   He was not in the mood to socialize and went to a watering hole where quite literally no one would know his name.  The first draught went down smooth and quick by 5:30.  He was still festering but forced himself to sip the next one slowly as he threw his diet out the window and gobbled down 5 of the free hot wings from the buffet.  By 6 the second one beer was gone.  Contemplating a third he decided just to start heading toward Liz’s office.  He could cool his jets somewhere near her.
Traffic was miserable, and easy mindless jaunt became a gauntlet of disruptions, irritations, and ever mounting frustration.  Somewhere along the way a text came through.  He expected it to be more tales of woe and delay from Liz and ignored it.  Finally having enough he pulled into a coffee shop parking lot and looked at the text.   It read “ Look in your brief case, zipper pocket by your note cards”.  Tom looked and in with his beloved ivory note cards was a pink envelope with a smeared red lip imprint on it.  Carefully opening it “It’s a nice night for whoreing about. I’d suggest 2 blocks west of the convention center on Liberty”
Tom wasn’t completely sure what it meant but he knew where he needed to be and it was only 6 blocks from where he had been.  “FUCK!” He thought to himself as he slogged his way back through traffic.   The sun was all but set as he turned on to liberty.  The evening pedestrian traffic had shifted from post work to pre-theater and early party goers. Standing in front of the deli he spotted a woman who looked like the living embodiment of a street walker.   He chucked to himself slightly as he watched her from 3 blocks away that they never will really be able to fully sanitize this street.  As he got closer though he realized the woman in question wasn’t a real prostitute; it was Liz.   As she spotted him she went from holding up a wall to marketing her goods.  Her skirt was clinging to her hips and far too short, Liz’s lower ass cheeks were all but hanging out. Her top was thin and extremely tight showing off her full breasts and perky nipples.  Her heels were cheap, bright red, and dangerously high.  He slowed with the flow of traffic and she approached the car.  Tired, frustrated, and unhappy just like a real John he rolled down his window and at first sight it was obvious that Liz was the one who probably really needed a little release but she didn’t break character.
“Hey Sexy, Looking for a date?” she said wantonly in his direction.
“Sure hop in?” Tom said unlocking the doors and recognizing the color painted on her lips matched the kiss mark on the envelope.
“Let me see the money.”   He fished a 100 dollar bill out of his wallet and waved it at her.
Liz jumped in the car and gave him instructions of where to drive that was really nothing more than a seedy darkish alley a few blocks away by the Federal Reserve and the back of a porn shop.  She rubbed his hardening cock through his pants as they made their way to the shadows.  “Now I’d like my money please.”   Tom looked on thinking she was kidding but she stayed in character and so did he “Half now and half when we’re done. I never pay a whore in advance because she’s liable to run off without performing the agreed upon service”   He tore the bill in half giving her part of it and tucking the other half under the floor mat by his door.
She audibly huffed but stayed with it and began unzipping his pants and removing his still hardening cock.  He inquired what his money was buying him “A little magic from my hands” she said in her best slutty voice.  “Really hand jobs cost a hundred bucks?”  It wasn’t meant as an insult or challenge it was simply a statement.  The truth is he had no clue what a good hand job or anything else cost.  Liz still in character “mine do and they are worth every penny and probably twice the price”
 
She reached into her oversized purse pulled out a condom and slipped in over his dick.  Something about the way she unrolled it slowly over his cock made him even harder.  Using a rubber felt different. Like suddenly it wasn’t his wife but someone completely different.  She began to jerk him off, not slow and sensually but like a girl on the clock wanting him to blow his load and then get on to her next prospective customer.   She figured a good minute or two and all would be said and done.  Tom however like every john had other plans and wanted to hold out as long as possible.   She slid closer to him, her hand going faster and faster up and down his dick. Knowing exactly what to add to begin to bring him to orgasm she placed her other hand and the base and began playing with his balls too for a few seconds but moments later found herself launching into “Do you like me jerking your big hard dick?  I know you do.  You just love dirty little sluts pulling on your cock, their hands going over that rock hard cock of yours faster and faster.   Tickling your balls as they get ready to squeeze every last drop of cum out of you. Just jerking your dick until you finally get to cum”
 
It was working she had all but gotten him to begin to purr so she continued.  “I bet you are imagining sticking your dick in my ass, just fucking me like the slut that I am, bent over and just letting you pound my tight little ass instead of this.  Or maybe you want to cream all over my tits.  You should see them without the shirt they are amazing and look even better when they’ve been painted white”   And just then he couldn’t help himself.  She had been working on him so hard and fast that the thoughts of how and where to cum were just too much and he simple began his release into the rubber just as she had planned.   She milked him almost recklessly filling the reservoir.   Squeezing him harder with each pass causing the tip of his dick to ache from the extra blood she was driving into it.  Finally stopping to catch her breath and give her arm a rest. She looked at the clock on the dash.  9 minutes.  It had taken her 9 minutes of hard, focused work , and absolutely filthy suggestions to get him to come.  More than 4 times her estimate of how long a hand job would take on a recently undersexed horny partner.
Deftly removing the condom and putting himself away he started the car and began to drift back to the busy city streets.
Liz broke the silence and asked “Did you enjoy it?”
“Of course” He answered causally.
“I’m not complaining.  But what took you so long to cum?   I was trying to get you off quickly so we wouldn’t be seen” she asked almost tentatively.
Tom smirked evilly “I wanted to get my hundred dollars worth.”  And with that he flipped her the other half of the hundred dollar bill.  “For services rendered” he laughed.
Liz picked it up, she hadn’t thought that part through but as she held the two parts together it made her feel, dirty in a way she never quite expected.  She had exchanged dinner and favors for sex like most people but it was quite clear that he had literally paid her in cash for a hand job.  It was something new and dwelling on the feeling it felt wild, and reckless, and it made her feel dirty in a whole new way.  It was a way she really liked.  Maybe if she played her card rights they could skip dinner and he could treat her like a whore all weekend.   Suddenly the possibilities were once again endless.
 

– Copyright Michael Malflic 2012 –

Hand Jobs – Sexually Speaking, They Said

Sexually Speaking He Said She Said Graphic by Malflic.comWelcome to part 3 to the He Said, She Said piece on Hand Jobs.   Malflic wrote the original Male perspective and Alice King wrote the Female piece.  Two Erotica Pieces Followed (Managing His Member & Not Just Another Happy Ending).  In this final installment on the topic the two discussed live Hand Jobs and in typical fashion failed to stay completely on topic but here’s the more useful portion of the conversations.
 
Malflic (Mal) : It’s on you!  After all, Ladies first.
Alice King (AK): I don’t like being first damn it.  At least not at this kind of stuff.  I love to come first, and second and or third when it comes to some things but not at this.
Mal: So was there anything from the male perspective on hand jobs that struck you as completely off base or maybe something you hadn’t thought about in a while?
AK: Nothing off base other than the fact that I really haven’t been giving any hand jobs to speak of in recent years. It’s funny how you get away from things because there is always so much other cool stuff to check out that sometimes the simple pleasures just get forgotten.
Mal: It’s funny that when writing the article I stopped and went back and recalled people who hadn’t been in my thoughts for 10, or 15, and in some cases even 20 years.  What and how they did things and what I liked then and now.
AK: I actually thought about my first huge hickey which the guy gave me while I was giving him a hand job.   I still laugh about how I went around telling people it was from a soft ball until my brother outed me to my mom that there was no way it was from a ball…of any kind.  Of course it’s not like my mom ever wanted to hear anything about sex.
Mal: I was always being told you can’t keep walking through the house in your underwear or naked so of course that is exactly what I’ve spent my entire life trying to do.  My world is pretty much clothing optional whenever it is appropriate.
AK: Oh I walk through the house and anywhere else I can naked as often as they’ll let me.
Mal: Is there anything else you want to add that you didn’t put in your original article? Like any intense plans to go on a massive hang job spree to make up for lost time?
AK:  There is huge potential for that this coming weekend! (Editor’s Note Alice will be attending Frolicon Easter Weekend which is the alluded to potential)  There is always hope and the opportunity for lots of practice.  Which Ironically since we started this I have been practicing the art of the hand job a lot more often.
Mal: Well I think someone should be sending me a thank you note for the benefits they’re receiving.
AK:  You know after focusing on it again I’m still a no lube kind of girl when it comes to hand jobs.  There’s just something about lube that makes it too sticky and slimy; and not the good kind of job well done sticky and slimy.
Mal: and some of thick stuff!  You might as well be fucking an oil can.   That might actually have a better sensation not that I’ve ever fucked an oil can.
AK: and some of the flavored stuff
Mal:  why the fuck do they even make that stuff.  I know a certain woman who has a drawer full of it.  Really like the world needed a single use vanilla bean flavored lube that all but instantly turns to glue.  Had I bought it, it would have been the end of the fucking world the first time it got sticky.  If I need something with vanilla bean I’ll put my clothes on and head down the street and buy a Crème Brule.   How long do you have to fuck to burn off the calories from a dessert like that?
AK: I don’t even know. I had a bunch of flavored lube until Monday when I started going through the black bag and packing it for this weekend.  We got rid of all most all of the flavored shit.   There was one that had never been opened or used and it just looked nasty.
Mal: So why did you even have that junk? (Not that he has a bias toward bad lube and low quality toys or anything)
AK: I was doing those black bag parties, which is how I got my black bag in the first place. One day in the mail I got it and it was just loaded with all these dildos, and vibes.  All kinds of cools stuff.  So by the time I gave that up I’d amassed quite the collection for myself.  I figured fuck it I know what I like and I’m keeping it.
Mal:  That reminds me a few years back the Blonde went to one of those parties a few neighborhoods over with a bunch of her girl friends.  I guess they were pulling the sex toys out of these foam padded flight cases that each held one or two.  Imagine a pistol case custom built for sex toys.  At the end of the night all the girls were fessing up to what they were ordering and when they ask her what she liked she had to admit that we already owned 90% of them and that I’d bough her the first toys 15 years earlier.  She got a few cool things but it was nowhere near the missing 10%.
AK:  I still have that picture you did for the Naked Nurse with some of your toys laid out on the table.  I just showed it to a few friends and ended up explaining you were into all different types of sensation play not just the heavy impact kind.
Mal: That’s true and probably something I don’t talk as much about as other kinks and interests.  By the way you should definitely add a Wartenberg wheel to your collection. They’re fucking amazing for sensation play.
AK: Oh I’ve got one (We can only imagine her wicked grin)  Someone had forgotten about it until I found it in the bottom of the bag. He had all kinds of fun with it then I took it and had my fun with him going after the area’s I know are the most sensitive.
Mal:  See there’s that Alpha Sub thing again.
AK: Who me? Just because the first place I went was the one I knew was most sensitive on him as his eyes rolled back into his head.  Which then lead to some hand job practice.  So there you go it just all ties in.
Mal: That’s a great point you can work other things into a simple hand job to make it unique.
AK: In fact I was trying from your write just working with the thumb.  That is really interesting.
Mal: It was just a magical skill.  I’ve never met anyone else who could just give a hand job once the guy was hard by just using their thumb on the head.  It certainly wasn’t hard and fast but she had this amazing skill I’ve never found in another human being.
AK:  (giggling) Now I have a new goal of trying to obtain that skill.
Mal: I left out the fire starter story. I don’t think I’ve even told you this one.  I had one partner who’s big thing was rolling my dick between her hands, just like you would a pencil or anything else.  Think of using a stick to start a fire with basic friction like in some old cowboy movie.  She would vary not just the speed but the pressure from her entire hands to just the palm by the pinkies down by the base to her index fingers up on the head; using a back and forth rolling motion to adjust her hand position on my dick. When she was working right on the head’s underside, on the glands it was a whole new sensation and very, very different.
AK: and there’s the key doing different things so there is different feels. Variety even in the basics takes you some where completely different and you end up finding something totally new.  Now I’m just looking at all my toys.   Can you hear my wheel?
Mal: No but I hear a lot of, umm, nondescript buzzing.
 
If you’ve enjoyed this month’s Sexually Speaking He Said She Said Series be sure to check back next month where the topic will be sensations.  Or knowing Alice & Mal Sinsations which will most likely get a little heated in one way or another.

The Lost Art of the Hand Job

The Lost Art of the Hand Job
So if I had to document the many twists and turns of my own sexual evolution the 80’s was all about blow jobs for me with the SM type stuff toward the end of the decade.  I was young and while probably into the entire fetish thing a bit young for the period I assure you I wasn’t the only one playing with whips and chains in my age bracket.  Then again I had my first 3 way at barely 18 which was I’m told was far less common then than it is for all the crazy kids out there these days.  And having sex in the same room as other couples was almost a given on most Friday and Saturday nights.  Life was good.
The 90’s continued to evolve my love of a great B.J. and rough sex but add in a little more role play and more dynamic encounters, my first orgy, a basic understanding of swinging, a healthy doses of Sex Caffeine and Rock n Roll.  Early in the decade I considered Vibrators and Toys to be something you only needed if you couldn’t get laid or your dick didn’t work.   Now they are as much a part of most of our sexual routines as our traditional sexual organs.   God I love progress and can’t imagine life with a woman who wasn’t comfortable using toys.  Life was still good and getting better.
The 2000’s well for me it was nude beaches and resorts.  A very memorable week at Hedo, a few hot nights on St, Martin  some mind blowing parties in South Beach and despite it all I think I learned what I always really knew not only did I like sex but in fact I’m truly the happiest when surrounded by other adventurous people who feel the same way.  I would be completely remiss if I didn’t mention the internet and what it has done for sex, lifestyle and Porn (both good and bad).  This was my pants optional in public period.
Somewhere along the way and in between the parties and resorts and with the ability to create and share erotic stories, dirty pictures, and professional like home made porn complete with sound tracks and props something at least in my little corner of the world was lost.  Before during and along the way was the hand job.   I’m not talking about masturbation because despite all the advances in technology and sexuality the fact remains that all of us are pretty much self equipped to get off whenever we need with what we already have  add a little spit and a healthy imagination.
A lover once told me “no matter how good you are it will always feel better if someone else is doing it for you.”  She was a wise and wily little slut who by the way gave amazing hand jobs.   Which is really the point of today’s story.
I’m a lucky guy I get my dick rubbed, tugged, played with, sucked, and fucked on a pretty damn regular basis but somewhere along the way people stopped just jerking me off to make me cum?   Is it a sexual evolution or a lost art form?   Fine tickle my balls as I explode inside of you the more stimulation and the longer I hold on the better the orgasm I’m all for it.
You can stoke me until I could cut diamonds and I won’t complain.  Hold me firmly with your thumb rocking under my head in small pressure filled circles and I’d moan in delight.   A soft long touch with no lube to tease me or pull hard and fast before impaling yourself on me with a wet well rubbed pussy is a wonderful little interlude.  Once upon a time there was one person who world roll me between her hands and she was most masterful at varying the speed and pressure.  Despite all of this I can’t tell you the last time someone just took my dick out and gave me a good hand job with nothing more than a coy look maybe a little dirty talk.   It seems to me that the hand job has become an appetizer to the main course and dessert.  Again don’t get me wrong I’m all for drink followed by the 5 course meal but some nights I just want an appetizer.  I don’t really need the soup, salad, main course, pasta and dessert.   Similarly on occasion in its most basic form I just want to cum,  I don’t want to perform, reciprocate, and selfishly I don’t want to worry about anyone else getting off on anything other than getting me off.
And that is the very reason why I believe that the hand job is very much a lost art that hearkens back to the heady and lust filled days of my youth.  Rather than always breaking new ground and because the choice of options has gotten so wide, the acts so lurid, dirty and deviant that the joy of the little things is lost.  Even if the little things is the very place where innocence once began to shatter.  After all who really needs 3 types of batteries, 5 kinds of specialty lube in 4 different flavors, and a porn collection to rival a university library when a little spit, an eager hand, a dirty mouth and a tissue at just the right time will do just fine.