“Guided” masturbation stories are fictional fantasies about males masturbating in the presence of, guided by, or masturbated by females. They are posted under the category
http://onania.org/asm/archives/category/stories/guided-stories
Check back from time to time for new postings in this category.
This is a series of interviews with masturbators on their life styles. The interviews are conducted by various phone sex mistresses (who specialize in guided masturbation) and double as promotions for their services, but the interviews are genuine (I was one). It might be of interest to other masturbators.
Here is a free sample of guided masturbation instructions from a phonesex masturbatrix
Strokes For Me New Audio - Ode to T Boy Guided #1 - Tribute to guided masturbation phone sex in
This is from a commercial phonesex mistress, but it is well said:
Let’s face it, boys. When you’re a chronic masturbator, you can’t help but notice the lack of energy and stamina after you’re blown your load. Most orgasm denial phone sex focuses on the phone humiliation aspect Don’t you agree when you haven’t splooged for a week or so you’re more focused, more productive and even more creative? Think about how drained you feel when you’ve orgasmed, how weak and limp and useless… In fact… when you leave all your juices where they belong, you’re a better man for it.
Many so-called secret sexual practices like tantra revolve around sexual intercourse or masturbation to the edge, over and over without orgasm at all. Satisfaction is attained by the slow build, the anticipation, the increased sexual awareness that leaves you eager, energetic… unlike the weakness that orgasm brings. In this vein, it’s not so much cockteasing blueball that’s the goal, rather raising your consciousness by deliberately containing your most vital essence, semen. It’s about keeping it inside, flowing free. There’s no real celibacy, stimulation is encouraged, often required…. so this isn’t about chastity training in the least.
Do you feel more ambitious when you’ve mastered self control? Does the feel of your aching balls remind you of all the things inside you that need release, not just your spunk? Balzac claimed that with every orgasm, another novel was lost. Perhaps you need this self control, this erotic denial to push you closer to the man you long to be? Orgasm denial isn’t always about humiliation or female domination, often it’s an act of self mastery and control. Does that fascinate you as much as me? If so, give me a call and let’s explore orgasm denial as a journey of enlightenment, not humiliation or domination.
College student exhibitionist caught by coeds and made to perform. Dec 2004, from groups.yahoo.com_group_exposedandhumiliated
Part 1
Tom was an exhibitionist, pure and simple. He loved to let the girls see his cock. He attended college in the early 80s when short shorts were still in style, which Tom found very convenient for his hobby. Tom liked the “accdental” type of flashing over the “guy-in-the- raincoat” type. Wearing his shorts with no underwear allowed his cock to “accidentally” fall out or be seen by the young co-eds. One of his favorite ways to do this was to go to the campus library to study. There was a reading loung on each floor with comfortable chairs and couches for the students to read and study. Tom would find a loung with a seat oposite a girl or girls and while sitting would prop a foot up on one of the tables giving a good view up the leg of his shorts. He would make sure his cock was in sight of the girl(s) and slyly check their reaction. (This was also before the days of cell phones which gave him a small sence of security even if he was to expose himself to someone who decided to do something about it). Most girls would either look away in disgust, smile or laugh, or some would glance over now and again to get a look at the cock before them.
A Guided Masturbation Story
The man is shy and uncertain; the woman is confident of her womanly power over him and controls the pace of the relationship. I especially enjoy the element of almost ritualistic breast worship.
from the net, circa 1998
Though it happened eight years ago, it hangs in my mind as if it took place yesterday. I have tried to reconstruct a little dialogue at a few crucial moments though I’m sure the exact words were different. It was my first year in Southeast Connecticut where I had recently arrived in January as a young professor in the humanities. Having recently purchased a CD player without realizing the major expense would be compact discs, I was glad to find an extensive collection of classical CDs at the local library. These could be checked out for two weeks intervals just like books. I was even more happy to meet the librarian who handled the music section.
Let’s call her Rachel to protect the innocent (or, on this case, not so innocent!). Rachel was one of those women who naturally exuded the radiant warmth of an earth mother (despite her young age of 25) while at the same time being unbelievably sexy and feminine (at least in my eyes). I was immediately drawn to her infectious laugh, sparkling personality, and somewhat flirtatious manner. I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was also taken with her luscious breasts which she seemed to emphasize by wearing clingy tops. Rachel had lustrous black hair which cascaded thickly around her face and over her shoulders and set off her smooth, pearly white skin. Her eyes matched her hair and flashed like dark jewels. Most of my attention, however, was usually riveted on her heart-stopping hourglass figure. Her hips swept out from her waist with large, full curves which rolled sensuously back and forth with every step. As if in musical counterpoint, her lush, Junoesque breasts accented these larger movements, swaying heavily beneath her knits, sweaters, and silk blouses. While I have always been a sucker for full women, I was mesmerized by Rachel’s ripe femininity. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before I began visiting the library more often to try more classical CDs and get Rachel’s advice on all things musical.
A young college student is very well cared for over the knee and between the bosoms of his landlady. Anonymous, circa 1995
- Part I
Before applying to college in 1963, I spent a number of weekends visiting prospective schools in Ohio and Pennsylvania. I had already heard a lot about Smithson College from my first cousin, Fred who was then in his senior year and full of stories about wild parties, road trips, and other mayhem. As a scholarship kid, he lived inexpensively off campus by renting a room from a widow who worked as a children’s librarian in the public library. In exchange for a modest rent and help around the house and yard, Fred enjoyed the benefits of a normal home. Mrs. Bellano did all the cooking and even took care of his laundry. In contrast to dorm life with its tiny rooms, bad food, and noise at all hours, Fred had it pretty good, especially since Mrs. Bellano was a great cook. The only downside was the need to observe basic household rules. Fred had to be in by 10:30 on weekdays and 12:30 on weekends. He also had to keep his place neat, do his chores on time, and not bring liquor into the house. Though he sometimes missed the freedom of dorm life, he saved a thousand dollars a year over the costs of campus room and board. And since he was a scholarship kid, he didn’t really have much of a choice. Living on campus was simply out of the question.
Though I could never tell Fred, I had a particular interest in hearing about his landlady. It seems she still spanked her fifteen-year old son, Tommy. And on a few occasions when Fred had forgotten to do his chores, Mrs. Bellano had even hinted Fred would have gotten the same treatment had he been her child. The idea that my cousin lived with a woman who spanked her teenage son and believed such discipline was still appropriate for a misbehaving twenty-year old aroused many fantasies in me. For nothing intrigued me more than the idea of a loving, maternal figure who doled out spankings in her home. Such fantasies emerged from years of personal experience in a household where spanking was frequently used to maintain discipline. I had been spanked by my mother right up til puberty which came rather late at the age of sixteen. Even then, I think my mother stopped more because I was getting erections than because I was too old. By then, domestic spanking was central to my sexual fantasies. When I masturbated, I pictured a sexy, older woman spanking me while I wriggled on her lap or bare thighs until orgasm. Sometimes she consoled me afterwards by suckling me at her breasts or by taking me into her bed for passionate lovemaking. In hindsight, such fantasies emerged from my sexual insecurity and extreme shyness around girls. By imagining I would be initiated sexually by an older, experienced woman, I created sexual scenarios which were non-threatening. (Up until college, I had never even dated, much less kissed a girl.) Given this background, it is easy to see why I was so excited and curious to hear that my cousin’s landlady still spanked her fifteen-year old.
A nurse fantasy by FantasyMan
“Good morning Chad,” she says with a smile, “I am Nurse Stacy. I’ll be performing your Penis-Cream Therapy today.” She’s wearing a professional white lab coat, short black skirt, nylons, and high-heels. Chad is clearly nervous, intimated by her beauty, and stammers: “Good morning Nurse Stacy.” She smirks to herself, catching his brief but predictable glance at her large breasts. They press provocatively against a semi-transparent dress shirt and separate the unbuttoned front-V of her lab-coat with authority. She makes a point of wearing lacy push-up bras (black for contrast) for this procedure - she enjoys making men squirm! Her heels click cleanly on the floor as she takes a few steps and indicates a bed in the middle of the room: “Please lay on your back so we can get started.” She gives it a few pats with her palm.
After Chad mounts the bench and lies on his back Nurse Stacy begins to unfasten his pants. “Have you removed all your pubic hair Chad?” It’s clearly an unnecessary question [she'll have a clear view in a moment!] but she enjoys the added embarrassment when the patient needs to verbalizes it. “Yes,” he finally says with a small voice. She finishes unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and takes hold of them at either sides of his hips. “Lift your hips please…” she says calmly before pulling his pants/underwear down together with a smooth, practiced motion.
It started off as a short hike into the woods above the valley I live in. I just wanted to get away for awhile and enjoy some of Mother Nature’s soothing powers. I came prepared with a knapsack to hold the few things I might need to enjoy myself. The usual things like a towel, lubricant, and something to drink. As I walked down the familiar trail the anticipation grew in my head. I made my way through a secluded meadow to a clearing on top of a hill overlooking the meadow. I had been there before and felt safe and secluded. A light breeze rose over the ridge of the hill and warmed me. My groin was tingling as I scanned the area to make sure I was alone.I spread a towel over the soft grass that covered the ground and started to undo my pants. All the hiking had kept my cock hard with the rubbing of my tight jeans. It felt great to slowly unbutton the waist and fly, slide them down and expose my legs to the warm breeze. I was turned on standing there with my shorts bulging from the strain of my erection trying to rip its self free, it’s shiny head peaking out the top. I stepped out of them and turned around slowly, looking over the beautiful surroundings. My hand quickly found its way to my crotch and the protruding head of my rod. I kneaded the firm bulge with the palm of my hand, moaning softly as my hand caressed the length of the shaft. The fabric of my shorts pulled tightly around my balls and my mind filled with the excitement of masturbating in the open. I felt the thrill of taking the chance of being caught while stroking my rod, putting on a show for someone to see. The thought sent a shiver up my spine and a small wet spot appeared on tip. I continued to rub firmly as I sat down on the towel, dreaming of the thrill of being caught just as I blow my load.
A Guided Masturbation Story
Johnny Chap. 1: Invited to Dinner
By Soulstroker (a.k.a. Magnifico Giganticus)
Story Codes: F/m, older woman/younger male, masturbation, gentle Fdom, maternal domination, authoritative/reluctance, mild humiliation/teasing, big natural breasts, nursing fetish.
Synopsis: A shy young man becomes sexually aroused at a dinner party and is taken in hand by the beautiful hostess.
Copyright © 2008, Soulstroker (a.k.a. Magnifico Giganticus). ALL Rights Reserved.
Johnny and his family pulled up into the driveway of a nice looking middle class home. It was already dark and it had taken a few minutes to find it even with the excellent directions they had been given. The house belonged to one of his father’s new employees. Johnny’s dad worked for a large computer company and had recently been promoted and placed in charge of the R&D department. As a result, his parents, along with Johnny and his older sister had been invited to dinner by one of the new people who would be working with his father, a woman named Andrea Winters.
In the drive over, Johnny’s mother had reminded her children to be polite, and refer to couple they were about to visit with as Mr. and Mrs. Winters at all times. Upon seeing the women who greeted them at the door, Johnny had forgotten any last minute instructions his mother had given him. Her beauty was stunning. She was a blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, and rather tall for a woman. She had a large crimson painted smile, which accented her high cheekbones. By far her most attractive feature was her well-developed chest. Her magnificent bosom gave her the classic hourglass shape that reminded Johnny of some 1950’s movie starlet. The conservative black dress accentuated her Ruebenesque form, and Johnny quickly lost himself staring at the small glimpse of milky-white cleavage it provided.