Shhhhh ...

Handjobs. Your thoughts?

Personally I love them! I've found they also work really well for me in a phone sex setting. Back in my slut days some of the girls would be pretty adept at describing blowjobs and that may work for you but I've always had trouble in a phone sex situation where the girl is talking about blowing me because in the back of my malicious mind I'm going, um, how are you talking to me?

I told MsGrace a story about a handjob I got in high school when I was (billybear checks various state statutes) eighteen, yeah eighteen. And what is this endless fantasizing about young girls? I don't get that but then again I'm six ways weird if you ask ace. I was in Starbucks this morning having them change my IV when these two high school girls come in. Well spring is in the air let me tell you with their too tight low-rider jeans and flat flat tummies, budding breasts all pert and pokey. Oh yes the billybear mind kicks into overdrive and the same fantasy plays out every time!

Billybear dressed in his finest tux approaches the two unsuspecting lambs. In his best Barry White voice he says, "Hello my treasures, might I inquire as to your names?" while dangling the keys to the family mini-van in the most enticing manner.

Popping gum, with the vacuous, it's all about me stares that only the teenager can manage they reply, "My name is 'felony' and my name is 'seven years without probation'" while giggling in the most delightful manner!

Screeeeeech end of fantasy

As I've trudged along this death march called life I've made some discoveries. I've mentioned it before and I'll mention it again. Women, I love them and more and more, even in the fantasy arena I've come to appreciate a good mind far more than a tight body. Oh what delights a good naughty mind can provide! Princess is blessed with both. Billybear stares off into space recalling his last Princess conversation, both the naughty bits and the not naughty bits ... yummy.

Where was I? ::glares at himself for getting off topic::

Oh yeah, the high school handjob. When is Disney making that movie? Anyway my date and I went to a movie theater and deliberately picked a bad movie because we knew it would be lightly attended. I was hoping for a little boobie action, some serious kissing with soft whispers of "Oh I love you soooo much" that you mean completely when you're that age. That wonderful, hopelessly doomed mad dash up her inner thigh for the holy grail called 'third base.'

Those truly were good times.

This was my first taste of learning who really drove the bus. It fits into that old adage, "The only one who knows if you're going to get lucky tonight is your girlfriend" or something like that.

I didn't know it at the time but she had other ideas in mind. Her name was (and still is) Kathy. It was jacket wearing weather. We weren't at the back of the theater, novices that we were, we were in the middle way off on the right hand side. After the movie started and the kissing and the preliminary attempts at petting she took her fancy jacket and put it over my lap.

Being the nimrod idiot unexperienced dolt that I was I thought, "I'm not cold" and took it off and put it on the chair next to me. She emits this exasperated sigh, reaches over me (her breasts pressing into my side - bonus points for being dumb!) places her jacket back on my lap and puts her right hand high up my inner right thigh. She has this impish grin in her face and her body language and expression scream, "Get it?"

Oh yeah! billybear is all over that page!

She's kissing me and her hand is sliding s-l-o-w-l-y up my inner thigh. I'm being a total boy and trying to help her out some. This may be (if it's not genetic) where girls start learning the power of the tease. It's one of the wonderful differences between the sexes that I've noticed. I think it's an X and Y chromosome difference but I could be wrong.

A girl places her hand on her boy's inner thigh and starts sliding it up and at least in my case I immediately spread my legs, but not too wide or the fabric of my jeans will be too tight across my crotch defeating the purpose, and begin skunching my butt down the seat towards her hand. What's the hold up here? I'm in such pathetic need for intimate contact that I've nearly slid off the chair, or couch or whatever trying to hurry along that wonderful, soft female hand. I want her touch and I want it now!

With a girl, again in my case, it's more of a battle. A wonderful battle! You both know it's gonna happen but she wants to be wooed, convinced that this is the right thing to do. I just love that! The process is slower, more give and take, your hand sides up, you hear the warning moan of "too fast" and you retreat but not as far back, you kiss her neck, smell her perfume, delight in her bated breath, her femininity, try again until you feel her thighs truly part. In my experience with all things female a woman likes to be seduced. She wants to enjoy the moment. Boys are more impatient :-) Your mileage may vary.

So Kathy's hand has reached my naughty bits and after some encouraging rubbing, she's unzipping my pants. I don't know about you but I just love that part! The fly goes down and her hand slides in, exploring, finally dipping under the suddenly too fucking tight waistband of my tighty whities (what was I thinking wearing those tonight?) and pulling me free. The slow tentative up/down up/down motion begins.

A secondary battle was raging at this time. The one for control. Kathy was well positioned to win this battle. She's nestled in along my right side, my right arm around her, her head pillowing on my shoulder. She's looking down at her jacket, studying the motion of her hand and arm, up and down, up and down under it. I'm trying to reach my right hand around her back to touch her breast. My left hand is on her knee and my position is beginning to feel like spaghetti. Then it happens.

Softly she whispers in my ear, "Shhhhhh billybear, shhhhhhh"

And my hands grow quiet, cease their assault. My right hand begins to slowly move across her bra strap. I don't know why I love that sensation of feeling a girl's bra strap through her blouse but I do, to this day. Then my right hand stops that too. I'm docile. Hers.

I get my first "giggle" in my life. I don't get the "good boy" but I feel it in my soul. Kathy knows she's safe, and in total control. I'm feeling her hair against my cheek, smelling her perfume, her shampoo, all the scents that comprise her. Listening to her breathing.

She assumes a more dominant position, turning more sideways to me. Her hand is moving faster and I'm dribbling precum making things slippery, you know, helping out. She's studying me now, watching. She's also keeping her eye out for other movie goers, protecting us. She can see that 'stupid look' on my face and intuitively knows I'm gone. 'Stupid look' is too harsh a term but it's sort of accurate. She knows that I'm going deep into my head, sliding away from the reality of the moment, just feeling. Thinking naughty billybear thoughts. Gone.

She's listening to my moans, and whimpers of pleasure, periodically shushing me if I get a little too loud or enthusiastic. Her hand is moving faster, more insistent, demanding my orgasm.

I cum. Buckets.

Another giggle. She continues her motions until I'm soft, then she puts me away and zips me up. I kiss her, softly, in gratitude.

Later it's discovered that I came all over her fucking fancy jacket! This is for some reason my fault and she's pissed off about it. It's cold outside and I give her my jacket to wear, carrying hers back to the car. She was somewhat mollified by that, but it's still my fault!

In the RealWorld what I've discovered is that I win 'the battle' about fifty percent of the time. I find this in my case healthy. It's all about position and who can reach the crotch first and gain control of it (billybear has established a firm beach head high on the inner right thigh!). And then the first touch of her panties, their wetness, the soft moan of your partner when you establish contact. Wonderful! The darting glances when she realizes that it's her turn to "lose." When I utter "shhhhhh baby" and feel her grow very, very wet in my hand, quiet, listening, docile. It boils down do the trust thing that MsGrace talks about, the trust of handing over control to me, or me to her or Her.

I've also found that most girls like dirty talk, and most RealWorld girls aren't very good at it, their vocabulary consisting of, "You like that?" My "training" in phone sex has served me well in that case, soft smile. I've gotten into some seriously fun and twisted conversations with girls if I'm driving.

Anyway that's why I love handjobs, both giving and receiving. I think both sexes, every now and then need to relinquish control.

I can't speak for the Mistress's because I do not fully understand being a dominant 24/7. However I will say to my fellow human beings (of which they are included) that I hope each and every one of us has someone in our RealWorld lives where we can, when needed, hand over control. Here, YOU drive for a bit!

Shhhhhhhh ...