How You Touch Me Read Online Free Page A

bedroom, one of the two
guest bedrooms in Julian's house. My hand slips under my big t-shirt
and starts toying with my puckered nipple. I can feel myself growing
wet at the thought of Julian's naked body stretched out on his bed,
his cock raging with lust as he yearned for me. What was he thinking
of doing to me? Did he want to suck and taste me, penetrate me and
thrust hard into me? The image of his large, glistening cock pushing
deep into me makes my clit throb with desire and I move my hand lower
down my stomach. My nipples are firm and erect and I release a
shuddering breath as I run my fingers over them and tug them lightly.
My right hand finds my clit and I rub it gently. Should I just take
care of how I am feeling right now, or should I wait? I did sign the
contract to allow Julian to explore every inch of my body and push me
to the very edge with his sex machine. There will be more orgasms
to come. I stop touching myself and turn to my side. Being aroused
is good. I haven't been so aroused by anything, anyone in such a
long time. This aching desire that I am feeling lets me know at
least that I am still alive. Stop dying and start living, like
Julian said. There is nothing to be afraid of. If that strange,
metallic sex machine can stimulate me with air, water, or any other
substances, then I should just surrender to the sensation and let
myself go. It is time to let go of my fear and my inhibitions.
    Dr. Julian James, the devastatingly handsome expert on
human sexuality, is right.
    If you constantly deny your body and your senses,
you'll slowly wither and die.
    So.
    Quickly, I slip out of bed and wash up. At the door, I
stop and frown. I am not wearing anything under my t-shirt, no
shorts, no undies, absolutely nothing. I can't go to breakfast like
this. Nervously, I open the door and peek out. I take a tentative
step out, and my foot nudges against something soft at the side of
the door. My eyes round and I kneel to see a pile of new clothes on
the floor. They are all women's clothes—some blouses, tank
tops slacks, skirts, denim shorts, bra, panties. They've been put
here, at my door, so they should be meant for me.
    I gather them up quickly and spread them out on my bed.
All the clothes and underwear are in my size. It seems that Julian
has noticed that I have discarded the only clothes on my back in his
laboratory, and has gone and bought some nice, new ones for me.
    I pick a matching set of bra and panties, and put on a
blouse and pencil skirt. This will be the first morning that I am
spending in Julian's house. I examine my outfit in the mirror. It
does look a bit too formal, but I guess it's better to be presentable
at the breakfast table. I don't want to look sloppy, not after how I
overreacted last night, crying and careening away from the machine
after the session. There is nothing wrong with being stimulated and
aroused, even if it is by a machine, I tell myself sternly.
    Just do it.
    Smoothing down my skirt one last time, I step out of my
room and walk down the stairs. I am not sure why I am tiptoeing
across the hall towards the kitchen, but the sound of cutlery and
conversation coming from the kitchen is making me feel rather shy and
apprehensive. Last night, Julian and I were alone in this spacious
mansion, and I'd had my first orgasm in his sex machine. I am not
sure how Julian will look at me now, in the harsh, sobering light of
day. Night always feels more private and seductive, making you lose
your sensibilities and judgment. But the morning after...well.
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I'm not sure I'm prepared for
that. Not from Julian.
    At the kitchen door, I hear Julian's hearty laughter and
a woman's voice. The woman's admonishments seem to be more in jest
than genuine annoyance. Julian chuckles, and I imagine his solemn
expression softening and his rugged features lighting up. I take a
small step forward to try to catch a glimpse of his smile. At that
instant, Julian turns around and his eyes