Tag: masturbatrix

The outlaw in-law

If you’ve read my blog in the past, you will know I have an odd arrangement with a gentleman, wherein I role play his late mother-in-law who, by his account, gave every indication of disliking him intensely and yet for years would give him quick, quite rough hand jobs.

If you’ve not already read about this, I strongly recommend you start with the links below before reading on, as what follows might otherwise not make much sense.

https://ladyinseams.home.blog/2023/01/16/if-its-not-one-thing-its-the-mother-in-law/

https://ladyinseams.home.blog/2023/01/25/take-my-mother-in-law/

I’ve not seen much of Phillip of late and I thought our little game might have reached an end. The reason I thought he might have lost interest is that I had persuaded him to allow me to try something different on one occasion when we met. Instead of a slightly ‘dowdy’ appearance, I met him wearing an outfit I felt more comfortable with, namely seamed stockings, five-inch heels and plenty of make-up and I also wore some short cotton gloves. And instead of a very quick wank which ends almost the moment he ejaculates, I adopted my more normal slow build-up and continued to stroke him for some time after his climax. I was still ‘in role’ and pretending to be Margaret, his mother-in-law, and roundly abused him as I masturbated him but the look and approach were more in my style.

However, his feedback was that while physically it had been sensational and visually stunning, emotionally it had not been as powerful as when I was more like her – low heels, hair pulled back in a pony tail, no make-up and a fairly brutal hand job lasting only a couple of minutes and her more disdainful manner. It’s absolutely clear that his greatest sexual fetish is simply recreating the strange experiences he had with his mother-in-law before she passed away.

So I was a little surprised when, a couple of weeks ago, he got back in touch and was very keen for a repeat performance if I was agreeable to doing so in the original style. As they say, ‘he who pays the piper calls the tune’, so I readily agreed.

The ‘set-up’ for our meeting was that I – or rather Margaret – had mentioned the book choice for her Women’s Institute reading group and that he had said he had a copy and would bring it over for her.

As I opened the door, I hoped he might notice the ‘bumps’ of my girdle beneath my sensible pencil skirt and even my RHT stockings.

“What do you want?” I asked as I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“I brought you that book, you mentioned.”

“Come in then. In the lounge – put it there,” I said, pointing at the dining table. He put the book down and turned towards me.

“Look, we both know why you’re here, so let’s just get this over with as quickly as possible. Some my friends from the Institute are due here shortly for tea and I don’t want them to see you here.”

“Oh, am I that ugly?”, he asked and gave a little laugh.

“Yes, you are, actually. But more to the point, they know I don’t like you, so I don’t want them to see you here or they may ask questions. Just remove your trousers and let’s be done.”

He stepped out of his trousers and hung them on the back of a chair. So sensible!

I pulled his boxer shorts down and grasped his already erect cock. And I went at is like a steam engine, pumping the living daylights out of it. As I did so I told him what I thought of him.

“You really are repulsive. You make me sick, do you know that? You’re a disgusting pervert, forcing me to do this.”

“Hey, I’ve never forced you to do anything.” He sounded genuinely hurt by my accusation.

“Shut up!” I shouted. “Don’t argue. Do you think I want to do this, you disgusting little man? I do it because I have no choice.” I was adlibbing wildly at this point but it seemed to be working because he was completely hard. “Come on, come on, I haven’t got all day.”

After a few more very firm strokes he gave a gasp, said “Jesus Christ” and spurted over my fingers and wrist.

Previously, at this point, I would rush to the kitchen and quickly wash off his semen, as if it was toxic waste but I suddenly had an idea, which we had not discussed or agreed. I wiped my hand back and forth over the front of his shirt and said “There, you can clean up your own disgusting mess.” With most of his spunk now smeared across his shirt I said “I’m going to wash my hands and you’re going to leave. Immediately.”

He didn’t argue. He’s such a meek soul. But after he’d left I realised I was very aroused by our little role play and I knew it was time for a little finger action and an orgasm of my own.

Good with your hands

‘I hear you’re very good with your hands’.

Those were the first words Josh said to me when we met at an industry drinks party. Josh, mid-forties, good looking, rather smooth, maybe even a tiny weenie bit ‘too cool for school’. I knew a bit about him, already. Founded an IT business in his twenties, sold it for millions, started another which he still owns, or owns most of at least but no longer involved in its day-to-day   operations, giving him more time to enjoy his expensive car collection, a big motor yacht and a place in Spain, which I have been told is the largest in its region.

I laughed. ‘Yes, I’ve been told that too’.

‘In fact, someone told me you sometimes describe yourself as a Masturbatrix. Is that right’?

Okay, so he knows more about me than I thought. At this point, there’s no use in my being coy, I may as well be completely honest with him. ‘Yes, it’s true, I love to masturbate men. And, though I say it myself, I think I’m very, very good at it’.

He gave a little whistle. ‘Amazing. I’d like to know more. Do you mind’?

‘Not at all. What would you like to know’?

‘Well, what is it that makes you so good, do you think’?

I stopped to think for a moment. And then I explained why I believe I am a very skilled Masturbatrix.

The first and most important reason is that I really, truly enjoy it, love to do it in fact. I love giving men the pleasure, seeing their faces, hearing them gasp and groan in ecstasy but I also love the control it gives me, the sense of power. And I do find it a huge turn on too. By the time a man has cum for me I’m eager, wet, and very ready for my own orgasm.

I think some women will give a hand job out of a sense of duty, or to avoid sex or just to get it over with. Make him cum as quickly as possible and then get back to watching ‘Dancing on Ice’ or whatever. I’m not like that. I make an effort and like to dress properly – usually seamed stockings and very high heels, sometimes boots and low-cut tops, leather, PVC, uniforms, that type of thing.

Another reason I’m so good is that I like to take it slowly, build them up towards their climax but deny release, delay the moment, really make it last. I think I have a sort of sixth sense of when a man is about to cum, even if he tries to hide it. So, I’ll slow right down, stop, even make them wait. Making them beg, sometimes. I enjoy hearing them beg and I’ve had men sob with frustration at being so close to climax but being continually denied their moment of release. Maybe that’s a power trip for me.

And I love to see them cum – their faces, their verbal explosions, the semen pouring out over my hands or shooting up onto my cleavage, or stocking tops or even my face and neck, wherever.  I’ve always loved being spunked on, even in my early teens. I don’t really know why this is, I just know it’s something I love.

And another thing that makes me really good at giving hand relief – I prefer that term, by the way, rather than ‘hand job’– is that when the man has cum and ejaculated and I’ve extracted as much of his sperm and seminal fluid as possible, I don’t stop. So many women make that mistake. I’ll continue stroking for as much as five minutes or more, getting slower and slower to sustain and enhance the feeling for them. I think that makes it special. Plus, things like lots of lube, a great selection of gloves and also, I’m very willing to talk dirty while I masturbate them if this is what they wish.

By this point, I stopped talking and realised I’d almost been thinking aloud.  But I looked up at Josh’s face and his mouth was open and eyes really wide. ‘What do I have to do to experience this myself?’ he asked. Now we’re talking, I thought.

Please note: most but not all of the photos here are of me and the first set are of ‘Lady Sonia’ who has been an inspiration for me to be a Masturbatrix.