Two_Sides_to_Every_Story_(part 3)

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

back to index

Two sides to every story
By PB.

Part Three


Monica

By the time I got home from work I'd made my mind up. 'If at first 
you fail, try, try again.' That was another thing Dad used to say. 
I'd make Tom show me how he masturbated again - and this time I'd 
make sure I watched more carefully. So my plan was to do that the 
moment I got home, then circumcise him first thing in the morning - 
or the other thing, whichever. If I left it too much longer I was 
afraid I'd change my mind.

I'd had to screw my courage up to do it after yesterday, so finding 
Tom wasn't home left me kind of flat. I showered, did some housework, 
sat at my desk for a while and read another chapter of the kit book. 
It was making me horny again. I'd have to watch that.

Tom came home some time later, I'm not sure when. It was only when he 
called along the passageway to ask if I wanted to eat yet that I 
realized he was back. It was my chicken casserole from yesterday. Tom 
must have rescued it - I'd forgotten about it, just gone to bed and 
left it on simmer. Afterwards I let him wash the dishes while I 
slipped off to my bedroom and got changed. My red silk nightie, I 
thought. It was sheer and almost see-through. And to go with it ... 
hmmm ... the black lace bra and panties. Was that overdoing it I 
wondered? Naah - he's a boy, there's no such thing. Should I use 
perfume? Maybe just a touch. This time I was going to turn him on and 
make him masturbate - but I wasn't going to let it get to me. Cool 
and professional, that's what I had to be. 



Tom



When I'd finished with the dishes, I thought I'd catch a ball game on 
TV, but Monica had her own idea. Usually, she's pretty modest round 
the house; casual maybe, but it's not often she wears anything 
revealing. Not deliberately, anyway. She didn't have to tell me what 
she wanted - the sort of expectant, calculating expression on her 
face and her almost see-through nightie made it plain.

"I want you to do it again, Tom. Slowly. Can you do that for me?"

She lifted up the hem of her red silk nightie and hooked her thumb 
into the waistband of her panties, made to pull them half off her 
hip, paused until I nodded. Then she stepped closer, pulling the 
other side of her panties half down as well until they barely covered 
her pubic hair. I was hooked. I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted 
to.

"Take your clothes off first. I need to see you doing it."

It was like a dare or something. I skimmed my tee-shirt off and she 
skimmed off her nightie, bent close to me and unhooked the front 
clasp of her bra, held it there till I stood up and dropped my jeans, 
then released it and let her breasts fall free. She half lay, half 
sat on the cushions in front of me, spread her legs apart when I 
dropped my boxer shorts. I stared at her half-lowered panties, her 
hairy little pussy so close to me. Her eyes went straight to my dick.

I started masturbating, staring at her breasts, her black lace-
pantied pussy with its little curls of light brown hair escaping from 
the sides.

"Slowly. Don't spurt until I tell you."

"Are you going to take your panties off?" I blurted.

"Only if you promise not to spurt until I let you."

I nodded again. Somehow I managed not to come just yet, but the 
feeling in my cock was very, very close. Monica was watching me like 
a hawk. She pulled her panties down a little further down her thighs, 
exposing her pubic bush to me and a flash of pink pussy-flesh through 
the leg holes. Without me thinking about it my hand sped up and I 
felt the first warning spurts of pre-cum.

"Don't you dare!" she said, and sat up suddenly, putting her hand out 
to slow my motion. She was only just in time.

"Let me see what you're doing. Show me."

I sort of half-opened my fist so that she could see better. Usually 
when I masturbate I take the skin around the middle of my penis head 
and roll it back and forwards across the tip. I showed her that and 
then because she seemed so interested I guess I started showing off a 
little, using both hands now, my left hand on my balls and up my 
shaft.

"Do you always do it that way?" she asked.

"Mostly. Sometimes different. It's just, I don't know, whatever feels 
good." That seemed to satisfy her. She leaned back and quickly pulled 
her panties all the way off, then sat up again still watching my 
hands work on my cock, working faster now as I started to climax. I 
could feel the rush of lubricant on my hand, under my foreskin.

"Wait a second" she said, lifting her knees to move in closer to me 
as we sat on the floor, her feet touching mine. Her legs were still 
tight together, hiding her sex from me but there had been little 
flashes of pink below her light brown curls as she moved.   "Do it 
slowly."

I used my other hand to pull my skin right back so she could see my 
shiny wet penis head and slowly rubbed that half-spurt of pre-come or 
semen into it. As I did that, Monica began to move her knees apart 
for me, inch by inch, ever so slowly letting me see more and more of 
her pussy, dark pink and puffy-lipped against her pale skin and thin 
brown pubic hair. I rubbed directly on my now-slippery penis head and 
inner foreskin, stretching it taught with my other hand to get the 
maximum sensation, and staring in ecstasy at Monica's half-open pussy 
lips and puffy clitoris as I came.





Monica



I watched, fascinated, as Tom did it for me. I'd seen boys penises 
before, of course. Twice I'd had sex with a really cute buy I'd been 
going out for a while, but I'd never seen anybody masturbate till 
now. (Not counting last night.) I concentrated on staying cool, 
detached, on not letting it affect me the way it had last night. It 
wasn't easy but I managed. I made sure not to touch myself, not even 
accidently and tried to focus my thoughts 100% on my duty.

By the time I'd stripped everything except my panties off he had his 
hand moving up and down his penis, making little semi-conscious 
grunting sounds and staring at my breasts. I had to speak quite 
sharply to stop him squirting again before I could see what he was 
doing. I made a deal with him, promised to let him see my pussy if he 
waited till I told him he could come.

He was good about it too, controlled himself when I asked him too, 
and sort of half opened his hand so I could see his penis as he 
masturbated it. He was using the palm of his hand to grip his 
foreskin, rolling it up and down. At the top of each stroke he 
squeezed in with his fingers and the ball of his thumb, I guess to 
feel the friction better where his penis-head was smaller than the 
shaft.

He was a roll-the-skin type then. I felt relieved. Tomorrow I could 
circumcise him, trim the loose, wrinkled skin off and he would be 
cured. I could have stopped then, should have because I could feel 
myself getting aroused, but he'd been so good. I told myself he 
deserved to see me take my panties off and show him my pussy like I'd 
said I would. I pulled them down slowly, keeping my legs together for 
modesty, and making a big effort not to let it stimulate me, to stay 
cool and unaroused until after Tom was gone. (I don't often 
masturbate but tonight I promised myself that I'd use my fingers for 
some secret pleasure, like I had last night. I guess that was another 
reason for taking my panties off in front of him - to make his penis 
spurt right away, so I could go to bed early and relieve myself.)

I kept watching him masturbate while I took my panties off. He mostly 
used his foreskin, rolling it up and down, but he was doing something 
different now. What did this mean? Was he really a roll-the-skin type 
or was this more his usual style?

"Wait a second" I instructed - I wanted to see closer so I moved in 
nearer to him and watched more carefully. He'd pulled his penis skin 
right back towards his testicles, stretched it tight, and he was 
rubbing his cock directly, on the head and shaft. Slowly, a little 
reluctantly, I opened my thighs and spread them wide apart to let him 
see my sex at last, close up. I felt moist down there but not too 
much, not dripping wet like yesterday, so I didn't think he'd notice 
it this time. He hadn't changed his motion but as he saw that most 
intimate part of me, my crotch, my pussy lips, my clit, his penis  
started squirting, a look of total concentration on his face as he 
shot his semen in the air. 



*     *     *



Afterwards, I went to my room and didn't even stop to put my clothes 
back on. I'd been so cool and professional about everything - now 
that I was on my own, I could give myself some release. Later on I'd 
have to start thinking like a mother again, sit down and make some 
hard decisions about him, but right now I could feel my sexual urge 
going into overdrive. I closed the door, leaned against it, let my 
bundle of clothing drop to the floor. Very lightly, I brushed the 
flat of my hand across my lower belly, let my fingers stroke my pubic 
hair, let the anticipation build for a moment. Time enough to worry 
about Tom's problem when I'd taken care of my own desire, I thought. 

My fingers drifted lower, to that fleshy mound above my slit. My hips 
were moving now, rotating slowly as I found myself visualizing Tom's 
penis, his fist around it, the way he'd rolled that cute brown 
foreskin up and down on it. I knew it was wrong of me to think about 
my brother's sex this way, but I was going to do the proper thing for 
him, and I told myself that no-one would ever know about my fantasy, 
just for these few minutes. I guessed that rolling his skin inside 
his fist felt like ... something like what I was doing now, with my 
hand a little lower, two fingers either side of the top of my slit, 
rolling my skin around and around my clitoris. God it felt good to 
touch myself that way! Maybe I should let Tom do it one last time 
before I cut his foreskin off.

I dropped onto my bed, used my other hand to drag the covers over, 
rubbing with my whole hand now, up and down the crease along my 
thigh, feeling the slick of creamy wetness that was leaking out from 
the back of my vagina towards my asshole, still not touching my clit 
directly, not quite yet. This is what it must be like for Tom, I 
thought, once more seeing his hand masturbating the skin up and down 
over the end of his penis, and feeling the hard little lump of my own 
female penis under its skin. 

Already, I could feel my orgasm building. And my understanding 
growing - this was why Thomas couldn't stop masturbating - it just 
felt so good. This was why I had to help him by circumcising his skin 
off. I had two fingers to my own surplus skin now as my orgasm 
started, vibrating the loose fold of wrinkly flesh over my clitoris. 
As I threw my head back and started to come, I realized I already 
knew what I was going to do: I had to take as much skin as I could 
off Tom's penis, cut him really tight so he couldn't make himself 
feel like this, make it impossible for him to ever masturbate again. 


*     *     *



I lay there afterwards trying not to let my sense of guilt overwhelm 
me. Why should I feel guilty? I was an adult (I told myself) entitled 
to have sex if I wanted to, even masturbate so long as no-one knew 
about it. Unlike Thomas, I could control myself. I told myself these 
things but even as I did, underneath, I was shocked at the way my 
body had reacted. My body? Or my mind? There was something deep and 
scary in the surge of lust that ran through me whenever I thought of 
... well, anything to do with doing things to Tom's manhood: 
circumcising him, cutting his balls off, or most of all, cutting off 
his penis. Already I was rubbing myself again, just at the thought of 
stooping over Tom, holding his hard little cock in my hand and 
slicing, slicing it off - for his own good, of course. 



But I wouldn't do it, of course. I wouldn't cut his thing off just 
because it made my horny. I'd already decided I was simply going to 
circumcise him. That way, he could still grow to be a man, have a sex 
life, have children and, maybe, with a woman's soft folds of tender 
flesh to rub against (having sex I mean) maybe then one day he could 
once again feel that exquisite peak of pleasure I'd just felt myself, 
was starting to feel again already as I masturbated.



Come to think of it, both my boyfriends had been circumcised, maybe 
not as tight as I was going to do Tom, but it hadn't stopped them 
enjoying sex. I slipped my finger inside myself, as if it were a 
penis, and tried to imagine what making love to me would feel like 
for a circumcised man. Yeah, Tom would be OK; he'd just have to wait 
till he got married before he could have that wonderful feeling 
between his legs again - the feeling I had now as I rubbed my finger 
in my slit.



With an effort I stopped, got up, slipped on a robe, and sat at my 
desk to go through the kit again and plan out how I was going to do 
it. Somewhere deep inside me there was still an urge to go further, 
to cut everything off. It was only now that I admitted it to myself, 
and realized just how powerful it was. I'd just masturbated twice, 
well, one and a half times, and I still felt a sudden surge of wet, 
guilty lust in my groin from just thinking about it, thinking about 
taking his entire sex off. But no! I wouldn't let that influence me. 
I was determined to do the right thing for him, and I'd never be able 
to live with myself if I cut my brother's balls or penis off just 
because it turned me on so much. 

Or was I overcompensating?

Was I making too much allowance for my own guilty feelings and not 
paying enough attention to the actual facts? Tom was in big trouble 
at school, and his masturbation habit was putting his whole future at 
risk. I had to take that seriously. I had to be absolutely sure that 
he was cured. It all came down to what sort of masturbator he was. I 
checked the book again.

It definitely only mentioned two different sorts of masturbaton: boys 
who rub their foreskins, and boys who rub directly on their penises. 
I'd watched carefully when I made Tom do it in front of me and I was 
quite sure he masturbated with his foreskin, rolling it around over 
the head of his cute little penis. Circumcision would stop that, a 
good, tight circumcision just to make sure. But then he'd done it the 
other way too - pulled the skin back and masturbated his penis 
directly! The book didn't say anything about that. I needed to 
understand it.

What did it feel like, I wondered. How was doing it that way 
different to rubbing his skin up and down? Maybe I could get an idea 
by trying it myself.



With my left hand I reached down to my pussy and used my fingers to 
peel the lips back. I used my right thumb to pull the small flap of 
loose brown skin up, exposing my clitoris. At first it was too small, 
but it swelled up hard under my finger; hard and too sensitive to 
touch. I couldn't masturbate like this, and if I couldn't, Tom 
probably couldn't either. After circumcision he wouldn't be able to 
masturbate, I thought.



But he had done it like that! How could that be? Were boys that 
different? 



Then I remembered the sheen of lubricant on the head of his penis as 
he did it for me. I dipped my finger lower to coat it in my vaginal 
juices. Now I could touch myself, feel good, feel an especially 
intense pleasure as my index finger made tiny movements directly on 
the head of my clitoris. Not the same as when I masturbated in my 
usual way, but more intense, more localized. If it could feel this 
good for me, then it would probably work for Tom too. While he had a 
penis he would masturbate.



Now I knew what I had to do. In the morning I'd take his penis off. 
It would be hard for him but there wasn't any other way. As my finger 
brought my orgasm crashing down on me I promised myself I'd let him 
have one last go with it before I cut.