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- Jun 28, 2024
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Lena went swimming every Wednesday with her best friend Jack. She was especially fond of him because he was gay, and she valued him as a male friend who would not try to sleep with her. So trusting was their friendship that they changed in the same cubicle. They changed standing back-to-back, supposedly for the sake of privacy; but Jack did not seem to notice that there were mirrors just so positioned at Lena’s side of the room that she could see his whole body when he undressed. She watched it very eagerly.
It did not trouble Lena much to be using Jack in this way. Male nudity was, after all, a joke. Women did not stare dumbly at naked men the way men stared at strippers: they just laughed. It did not matter much, therefore, that Jack happened to be a particularly fine specimen. On one day she might spy, through one mirror, the toned face of his torso; the v-shape leading down from his hips to the root of his cock. The male genitalia were a joke enough. Dick, prick, pecker, willy. It looks silly whatever the size, people make jokes about the size, people know that size doesn’t matter.
When he stood at a slightly different angle, she could watch the other side of him through the opposite mirror. So he was standing today. He pulled his shirt off in a single movement, and unconsciously and nonchalantly adjusted his stance. Then, unbuckling the belt, he let his trousers fall to the floor and stepped out of them, treading them carelessly under foot. Finally he placed his thumbs at the sides of his boxer shorts and pulled them a few inches down, leaving bare his buttocks as the last scrap of clothing on him fell to the floor. Lena felt that his buttocks were the funniest joke of all, made only slightly funnier when you could make out his balls dangling between them. (Jack and the beanstalk, anyone?) However firm and muscular and well-formed they might be (as Jack’s were), there was something immature about boys’ hind cheeks. It was where teachers in the old days liked to hit them when they’d been naughty, apparently. They were cute, pert, cheeky, just like Jack.
Lena fantasised a bit about him. She secretly revelled in her hypocrisy - choosing him because he wouldn’t fuck her, and then imagining herself fucking him anyway. What did he do for other boys? She imagined him lustily smacking his cheeks on the open thighs of some other well-toned stud. Two massive jokes in one, and the punchline shrieked in an hour-long crescendo. Then she thought of him, in a moment of madness, grabbing her and shoving her against a wall, his hastily unbelted trousers riding down his little-boy bum, as its nodding movements pushed his cock (size doesn’t matter, but he needn’t hear that) deep into her ...
‘Lena?’ she heard. He had put on his swimming trunks as her mind had wandered.
‘Oh, sorry, Jack, I was miles away. Nearly ready to swim.’
It did not trouble Lena much to be using Jack in this way. Male nudity was, after all, a joke. Women did not stare dumbly at naked men the way men stared at strippers: they just laughed. It did not matter much, therefore, that Jack happened to be a particularly fine specimen. On one day she might spy, through one mirror, the toned face of his torso; the v-shape leading down from his hips to the root of his cock. The male genitalia were a joke enough. Dick, prick, pecker, willy. It looks silly whatever the size, people make jokes about the size, people know that size doesn’t matter.
When he stood at a slightly different angle, she could watch the other side of him through the opposite mirror. So he was standing today. He pulled his shirt off in a single movement, and unconsciously and nonchalantly adjusted his stance. Then, unbuckling the belt, he let his trousers fall to the floor and stepped out of them, treading them carelessly under foot. Finally he placed his thumbs at the sides of his boxer shorts and pulled them a few inches down, leaving bare his buttocks as the last scrap of clothing on him fell to the floor. Lena felt that his buttocks were the funniest joke of all, made only slightly funnier when you could make out his balls dangling between them. (Jack and the beanstalk, anyone?) However firm and muscular and well-formed they might be (as Jack’s were), there was something immature about boys’ hind cheeks. It was where teachers in the old days liked to hit them when they’d been naughty, apparently. They were cute, pert, cheeky, just like Jack.
Lena fantasised a bit about him. She secretly revelled in her hypocrisy - choosing him because he wouldn’t fuck her, and then imagining herself fucking him anyway. What did he do for other boys? She imagined him lustily smacking his cheeks on the open thighs of some other well-toned stud. Two massive jokes in one, and the punchline shrieked in an hour-long crescendo. Then she thought of him, in a moment of madness, grabbing her and shoving her against a wall, his hastily unbelted trousers riding down his little-boy bum, as its nodding movements pushed his cock (size doesn’t matter, but he needn’t hear that) deep into her ...
‘Lena?’ she heard. He had put on his swimming trunks as her mind had wandered.
‘Oh, sorry, Jack, I was miles away. Nearly ready to swim.’
اسم الموضوع : Jack and Lena, part 1
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المصدر : Sex Stories
