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I walked through the front door of my house and said, “Come on in. Can you stay long or do you need to take your toy and leave right away?”

Dr. Stanley Clarke, the product representative from Cherry Products, Inc. had followed me home from a party to recover his company’s property. Apparently, someone had stolen one of their expensive toys and sent it to me as a gift. It looked like an ordinary bra with matching panties, although they were far from ordinary and I was reluctant to take them off or give them back.

He hesitated. Then he drawled, “Well, now that our product has been activated while you were wearing it, it would be safer if someone could stay with you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Do you live with anyone? Is there anyone who can come over and stay with you?”

“No, and no,” I responded. “What about you? Can you stay with me?”

He froze with a deer-in-the-headlight look of terror. He had revealed at the party that he was still a virgin. His fear was additional confirmation.

“I couldn’t,” he blurted out. “I barely know you. Maybe you can come down to the lab where there are several people who can take turns watching you.”

“No thanks,” I replied while pulling off my boots. The black leather high-heel boots gave my legs a great shape, but I preferred bare feet in my own home. I tossed my pointed witch hat on a chair and decided to keep on the shear black wrap that was the only other complement to my gifts in the mail, the solid black bra and panties with unusual powers.

“I don’t feel like becoming some experimental animal. Take off your shoes and get comfortable. It looks like we are going to get to know each other better, at least until you can find a replacement.”

He stood still for a moment, and then realized he was going to lose on this. He removed his shoes and placed them neatly by the front door.

“Socks, too,” I said, noticing the plain and unimaginative black socks covering his feet.

This time he complied without any hesitation.

“Come with me,” I instructed as I led the way to the bathroom. “If we are going to be around each other for a while, we need to freshen up. We can shower, or we can just rinse off our feet.”

I started the water so that it would get warm.

“I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone just now, and I do not know you well enough to feel comfortable watching you take a shower,” he said with surprising directness.

“Then just the feet,” I said, watching him visibly relax. “For now,” I added, and he stiffened again.

I laid out two towels and then washed my feet and lower legs with soap and a washcloth. I wanted him to see me rubbing myself, but I did not want it to be overly sexual. I watched his eyes and realized he could not look away from what I was doing. I loved this attention, and I wanted more.

After washing off all of the soap, I asked him to bring a towel to me. He did, and he stood next to me while I dried each leg, foot, heel, and toe.

Stepping out of the way, I said, “Your turn. You might want to roll up those pant legs so they don’t get wet.”

Shy innocent Stanley did not roll them up far enough and they got wet.

“Take those off and I’ll run them through the washer and dryer,” I offered. “They’ll be ready to wear tomorrow.”

“What about tonight?” he asked.

Looking at him sternly I said, “I am not going to allow you to walk around my house with dripping wet pants. I assume you are wearing underwear under them. If you are, and even if you aren’t, you don’t have anything I haven’t already seen.”

Now he had more of a wet cat look. Wistfully I wondered how many animals he might emulate tonight.

He took off his pants and handed them to me while I handed him a towel. With a covert glance in his direction, I noticed he was wearing white cotton briefs. Within a few minutes, I had the clothes washer running and gave Stanley a quick tour of my house.

After the tour, I opened some wine and led the way to the living room where we could sit, talk, and listen to some light jazz from my MP3 player.

“Have a seat,” I said while pointing to the sofa and sitting on the love seat next to the sofa.

“Tell me about Cherry Products,” I said.

“What would you like to know?” he asked.

“What does your company do? Where are you located? Why did you pick that name? That will do for starters.”

“We are a high tech company in a place called the Zone. We’ve developed some products that help individuals find some of the pleasures derived from social interactions, but without the need for willing and compatible partners,” he said as if he were reading a product brochure.

“So, you make masturbation toys,” I restated as a clarification of what I heard.

Slightly shocked, he responded, “That is such a misleading and simplistic way of describing the beautiful services and successful resolution of otherwise dysfunctional, frustrated, lonely, and depressed temporary situations.”

I took a drink of wine and repeated, “So, you make masturbation asyabahis yeni giriş toys.”

With a little bit of resignation, he shook his head yes.

“What can you tell me about the Cherry 2001,” I asked.

His eyes lit up. “Our founders are Science Fiction buffs and they got the idea from a 1987 movie called Cherry 2000. It’s about a guy in the future who tried to find replacement parts for his sex robot.”

“But,” I interrupted, “why did call your product the Cherry 2001?”

“They were also fans of the Space Odyssey movies and books. You know, 2001, 2010, 2061, and 3001. They thought that a convincing sex toy for women might be one better than one for men, and so they picked 2001.”

“How does it work?” I asked and then somewhat later regretted asking.

“It is the most amazing piece of nanotechnology that we have developed. All within the appearance of simple pieces of clothing, we were able to combine nonlocalized neurological and environmental sensors, massively parallel tachyon possessors …”

He continued through this list of incomprehensible terms and specifications long enough for me to finish my glass of wine and most of a second glass.

“Excuse me a moment, Stanley,” I interrupted when he paused for a breath. I decided I wanted to ask some questions where the answer might have some meaning for me.

“How did I get these?” I asked while pointing to the bra/panty set that I was still wearing.

He paused for a few moments, and then responded, “We are not sure about that. We have a perpetual inventory system and top-notch security, and somehow they disappeared. I was sent to recover them.’

Finally, an answer I could understand. As I finished the wine, I set the glass down and moved to the sofa next to Stanley.

“These have turned themselves on twice since I got them,” I observed. “What triggers them?”

“They are always on,” he replied. “They don’t have an off switch.”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I’ve already discovered that. But they don’t seem to be on now.”

“That’s because they’ve switched back to learn mode,” he explained. “They are scanning and mapping the environment and the person wearing them. If you, as the wearer, become highly emotional or aroused, they switch to fulfillment mode. It might be better if we avoided that happening again. In fact, maybe you should take them off.”

I put my hand around Stanley’s head to play with his hair. I also let one of my legs touch his.

“Why Stanley,” I said with mock surprise. “You make me blush. I thought you didn’t want to see me naked.”

I turned to face him, straddling his lap with one leg on each side. My hands and arms framed his head for balance, and to keep him from running away.

“Stanley,” I asked with my most innocent and seductive voice, “Do you find me attractive?”

He looked down, either because he was shy or so that he could check out my breasts. I put a finger under his chin and lifted his head so that we could look into each other’s eyes.

“Well?” I asked.

He swallowed and said, “Yes.”

“Good,” I responded. I caressed the side of his head while I told him, “I find you attractive also. I have a favor to ask, and I want you to say ‘no’ if it makes you feel too uncomfortable.”

He remained silent, but his eyes showed that he wanted to know what favor I wanted of him.

“Today has been pretty rough for me. I would feel much safer if you cuddled behind me tonight while I slept.”

He thought about that for a moment, and then asked, “What would we wear?”

“I like to sleep in the nude, but I could keep the panties and bra on if it would make you feel more comfortable. I don’t have any sleepwear to offer you, but you could keep your underwear on.

As I started to unbutton his shirt, I said, “If you don’t mind too much, I would rather feel your bare chest against my back.”

With the certainty of having made a decision, he said, “I will cuddle with you tonight, but it is not safe for you to continue to wear the panties and bra. They could easily reactivate.”

We kissed and I rubbed my bra-covered breasts against his chest while my hands explored his back from inside his shirt.

Then with a smile I said, “The only things keeping your virginity safe right now are your underwear, my panties and my bra. If any of them come off, I would feel better if it were you taking them off.”

I leaned in to kiss again, and felt his hands behind my back. I heard the distinctive sound of Velcro coming apart. He had removed my bra.

“I will keep my underwear on, but we need to get up so that I can remove your panties,” he said.

Was there a tremor in his voice? Secretly it pleased me to know I was having this impact on him.

I stood up and he joined me. He removed my panties while I removed his shirt. I removed the last of my witch costume so that I was completely naked in front of him.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked while turning from side to side.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Good. asyabahis güvenilirmi Let’s go to bed.”

I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. I turned off a few lights along the way, but left on a few so that I could see and be seen.

In the bedroom, I pulled the sheet back, laid on the bed, and spread my arms to invite Stanley to join me. Moving slowly and tentatively, he did. We settled into a face-to-face cuddle and kissed. I may have rubbed my nipples against his chest and stroked his back with my hands, but I was not trying to get him turned on. I was just happy to feel him touching me and keeping me warm.

After a few minutes, I turned around so that he could cuddle against my back. He placed a hand around my stomach. I moved it up so that his hand would cup my bare breast. “It will be easier for you to hold me here,” I explained.

I could feel his erection through his underwear, but it was late and even this was not going to keep me awake. The cumulative effect of a long day, my orgasms earlier this evening, the wine, and a quiet hour with Stanley had been all I could handle. I fell asleep in his arms.

I awoke to early morning sunshine coming through the window, a strong masculine arm wrapped around me with his hand cupping my breast, and an erection poking me between my cheeks. Was it the Beatles who sang, “Isn’t it good, hard morning wood”? Maybe they sang about Norwegian wood. I like the Beatles version, but at the moment I preferred my version of the song.

My hips rocked gently so that I could feel his erection moving against me. He was still wearing his underwear, so his virginity continued to be off limits. It would give me great pleasure to be his first, to feel his joystick sliding in and out of me. However, it needed to be his choice. Until he made that choice, I would be content with kissing and cuddling. Correction, kissing, cuddling, and petting. A part of me wondered whether I could initiate oral. If he would take off his underwear, then I would not need to decide what I could or could not initiate.

“Good morning,” he said, acknowledging that we were both awake.

“Good morning,” I replied.

I turned around to face him, kiss him, hug him, rub my breasts against his chest, and feel his bulge near my mound. Then I rolled on top of him and moved up a bit so that it would be easy for him to kiss or lick my neck. He got the message and ran the tip of his tongue along one side of my neck, and then the other.

“Oh,” I cooed softly to let him know I appreciated what he was doing.

Somewhere down below I felt something stirring in his underwear. I smiled that he was reacting, but knew my attention needed to be somewhere else for now. I moved higher so that my nipples were level with his mouth.

I swayed in a left-to-right and back motion so that each side of my left boob and then each side of my right boob caressed the sides of his face. I felt his lips touch my nipples on each pass, but it was me directing them each time. My invitation could not have been any more clear, and yet he declined to suck, or even lick my nipples.

“Down, girl,” I thought to myself, and with that thought I moved down so that it would be easier to kiss.

We kissed and our tongues danced with each other. At least I was not getting a total rejection. After several minutes of lip and tongue action, I moved further down so that his nipples were at my mouth level. I used the tip of my tongue to trace a line of moisture around, but not on his nipple, and then moved to his other nipple to do the same thing. He shivered slightly, letting me know this was affecting him.

My tongue moved from his areole to his nipple, and I licked the sides and top before moving to his other nipple. This became a pattern, with me escalating my touch slightly on one nipple, and then mirroring the touch on his other nipple. From light touches with my tongue, I escalated to light caresses with my lips. The lip caress became a kiss. My kiss created a seal that let me suck, and while sucking I flicked my tongue lightly against the tip.

My fingers were also busy. For the nipple not being sucked, I used my thumb and forefinger to gently squeeze and rotate it, so there was constant attention to both nipples. His nipples were hard from arousal and his breaths were getting shorter. Perhaps now he would follow my example and give my nipples the same attention I had given his.

I left his nipples and moved up for a few minutes of kissing. Then I moved up a bit more. Breakfast was served, and all he had to do was open his mouth.

He did not, and I sat back with mild disappointment. I had never been with a virgin before, but I knew from my first experience that gentleness and patience were more important than anything else. I would need to slow down and wait for him to get as ready as me.

“Would there be any harm if I put the panties and bra back on?” I asked. I already knew his answer, but I also felt they might be my only hope of getting the stimulation I craved.

“I don’t think asya bahis giriş that would be advisable right now. You are showing signs of arousal, and it is likely that they would immediately switch into fulfillment mode,” he answered.

“Damn!” I thought to myself.

“I don’t want to push you into anything, but I am feeling sexually frustrated right now,” I complained. “Any suggestions?”

He thought for a moment and said, “Perhaps you could take a shower.”

“I thought you had to keep an eye on me,” I replied.

“It would be safer for you if I did,” he said.

“I thought you were uncomfortable watching me shower,” I reminded him.

“I am,” he confirmed, “but I am also concerned that your arousal is a side-effect of our product. A shower is one option that should provide some relief.”

“What other options do I have,” I asked.

“We think the symptoms will go away after forty-eight hours without sexual stimulation. We also think the symptoms will resolve with several partner-stimulated orgasms. However, that aspect of our product has not been thoroughly tested. That’s why we were trying to use it only under controlled conditions.”

Partner-stimulated orgasms sounded like more fun than sexual deprivation. Briefly, I speculated on the possibility that Stanley could be the partner who could give me what I needed.

“With partner-stimulated orgasms, how many were needed?” I asked.

He answered, “‘n’ plus one, where ‘n’ is the number of orgasms supplied by our product.”

I could not remember my particular value of ‘n’, but I doubted that I was going to cajole the needed number from a shy virgin who was reluctant to suck nipples that were placed in his mouth.

“Do you know anyone who might be able to help you?” Stanley asked. “I saw you with someone last night who seemed interested in you. Perhaps he would come over if you called.”

Thinking about the possibility of calling my ex, I came to a decision. “I need a shower,” I announced.

I bounced off the bed and led the way to the bathroom. The water was warm in minutes, and it was fun to feel the soap on my skin and the shampoo in my hair. I washed all over, shamelessly putting on a show for Stanley. As I finished, I still felt frisky.

“Would you like to join me?” I invited.

“No, thanks,” he responded.

“You can leave your underwear on,” I offered.

“And you would make me take it off when I got out,” he countered.

He was right. I could not tolerate having water droplets all over my house.

“You could take off your underwear and then put it back on after your shower,” I counter offered.

“Where are my pants and shirt?” he asked.

“I’ll look for them as soon as I get out,” I replied. I remembered exactly where they were, but I was not in any hurry for him to get them back on.

I got out of the shower and used a towel to dry my hair. “I left the water on for you. I’ll turn my back if that will make it easier for you.”

The shower ran undisturbed for about a minute while I dried my hair and the rest of my body. Then I heard the shower door open. Stanley had finally accepted my invitation.

I resisted a strong urge to turn around so that I could see him in all his glory. After all, I had assured him I would look the other way. This was the price I paid for being trustworthy.

When I finished drying, I put a towel and Stanley’s briefs near the shower and left the room to check on his pants. If I had stayed in the room, I knew I would eventually yield to the temptation to look. I moved his pants from the washer to the dryer and loaded some of my clothes in the washer. As long as I was doing another load, I decided to add Stanley’s shirt and socks. Part of me wished I was adding his underwear to the load so that he would have nothing to wear for a while.

Just as I pushed start, I felt a presence behind me. It was Stanley. He had finished and he was wearing his underwear again. I love the smell of a freshly washed man and Stanley smelled good enough to eat.

I took his hand and led him out to the living room. I pointed to the couch and he sat. I straddled him the same way I had the night before and we kissed. It was nice to feel my nipples rub against his naked chest. I could almost hear them begging me to let them be sucked.

“I’m still horny,” I announced. “Do you have any suggestions other than another shower?”

My fingernails traced circles around his nipples while I waited for an answer.

“How many orgasms did you have when you were wearing our product?” he asked.

I tried to count. It was several. Finally, I answered, “I can’t remember.”

“If I suck your nipples, would that bring you to orgasm?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said with a vigorous headshake. I liked this suggestion much better than his previous ones. “I had some orgasms from the bra before the panties arrived.”

I shifted on his lap and positioned my right boob next to his mouth. He was hesitant at first, but he responded well to my coaching and my occasional request to switch to the other side. I ran my fingers through the hair on the back of his head and made appropriate moans, hoots, and yips when something felt extra right. In about ten minutes, he gave me my first partner-stimulated orgasm since the bra and panties came off.

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