This article was originally posted in the Usenet newsgroup rec.arts.sf.tv.babylon5, on Thursday, October 5, 1995.
An individual, hitherto known as MR COMPASSION, posited:
| I'm sure the right man might be able to give you enough manual | gratification to satisfy your needs. | Some men realise that sex is more than just penetration, | you know. And we have manipulatory digits and opposing thumbs, | just like women do. | Not to mention our oral structures ...
Finishing your theorizing and looking up to make sure nobody disagrees, you notice that Dianne is now staring at your bound form with a slight grin developing across her lips. "Well, yes, that is certainly an interesting idea," she says, with growing humor. "Yes, indeed. In fact, I think I'm going to have to think about this one for a while. But while I do, I have a friend here who would really like to... get to know you."
You notice, in surprise, a form coming out of the shadows in front of you; someone must have entered the room while you were previously in thought. As the figure becomes more clear, Dianne continues, "John, meet MR COMPASSION. MR COMPASSION, meet Mr. Sheridan. Have fun, boys." With an unsettling gleam in her eyes, Dianne plants a final light flick of her whip across your bare ass, and walks out of the light that glows around your helplessly bound form.
As you feel her presence leave the room, you begin to focus your attention on the man standing before you. With slightly disheveled hair, he seems to exude a feeling of good humor; his eyes appear to twinkle in the light, as he looks back at you. Looking down from the sharp jawline on his rough, though recently shaven, face, you notice the pressed white shirt which hangs open on him, as if he had just been interrupted from getting dressed; the dark hairs of his chest poke out from it, and disappear with growing density into the blue slacks below. And now, within those blue slacks, you notice an increasingly obvious bulge.
Following the trail of your eyes, a smile grows across John's face. "Heh, I see that you certainly aren't afraid to jump in head first. I like that. But I think today I'll be kind, and let us focus on you, rather than have you get in over your head. For now." And with just those few words, all of that good nature glowing from him suddenly seems... predatory.
John advances, carefully feeling the knots which bind you, wrists over your head, feet spread apart. "Good, these shouldn't come loose. Your safeword is 'n'."
Again that unsettling, ambiguous smile floats across his face, as his hands proceed to move from the knots to your body. You begin to smell the faint musk of his body, and his big hands examine your raised arms, chest, stomach, legs. "Nice and firm, I like that. I hope you do, too. Good legs, strong arms, flat stomach, nice ass. What more could I want?" He emphasizes each comment with increasingly stronger prodding in the referenced areas.
His hands now move back to your chest, slowly circling through the hair there, toward your tits. "And I especially like -these-." With that, he lowers down and puts his lips around your left tit, continuing to manually manipulate the right. You feel the stubble of his face on your chest as he slowly sucks, increasingly stronger; his musk grows more masculinely strong, and mixes with the similar smell of your own developing excitement on its way to your nose. Just as the sucking begins to become painful, he switches to the other tit, while continuing to manipulate the first with his hand. The other hand reaches around to cup your exposed ass.
After the same amount of stimulation, John suddenly stands back up, leans over you, and places his mouth over yours as he enfolds you in an embrace. His tongue probes through your lips, exploring; you feel his face scratching against yours, and smell the pungent musk of him right against you. His arms explore your back, nearly massaging it, his strong hands pressing firmly into the muscles there. As his chest presses against your own, you feel his hairs entwining in yours, and tickling your now sensitive nipples. His legs press against your own, taut; the bulge in his pants grinds againt you, as your own begins to grow.
No doubt feeling your reaction, John removes his mouth from your own. Looking in your eyes, you can feel his hot breath across your face as he nearly growls, "Ah, I think we can now get down to business."
Slowly untangling from you, he moves down, rubbing along your body, massaging it with his mouth. As his head reaches your crotch, his hands reach around and firmly grasps your as. "So beautiful," drones deeply from his chest against you, as he takes your member into his mouth. You feel him working it with his tongue, the way only a man can know how; almost involuntarily you feel yourself grow rock hard, as the just past attention paid to your body seems to suddenly burst down and focus behind your cock. His strong hands continue to kneed your ass, as if to more tightly focus the pleasure, drawing it out, playing it like he is playing your member. His scent and your scent seem to be burying you, drilling down your gut, filling every part of you, and the ropes around your wrists remain the only thing that is supporting you.
As you explode into the searing white heat of an orgasm, you almost hear the disembodied voice of a woman: "Yes, he just might have a point."
| Dianne Kyra Hackborn <hackbod@angryredplanet.com> | Last modified: Wed Aug 14 14:09:46 PDT 1996 |