Saturday, July 11, 2009

Cad Story

by Kortpeel
(July 2001)

By the time I was 25 I'd learnt how to seduce women. That was after agonies of frustration all through my teens when I'd ached to get into any girl's pants and didn't know how.

Funny how it's actually so easy. Basically I'm a very ordinary guy, about 5' 10'', not particularly good looking and of average build. Yet somehow women seem to see what they want to see in a guy and not what he actually is. Given that, all you have to do is be courteous, attentive, polite and charming. "Charming" simply means getting them to laugh at your jokes. Be well groomed most of the time and treat them as sensible human beings, albeit female ones, and not as sex objects.

A few well placed compliments work wonders. Give your target time to get used to you and when she is let it be known by body language alone that you fancy her. After that her own mind and needs work for you. Just find a legitimate way to create the opportunity and she'll strip off and get into bed with you of her own accord.

I found that amicable disengagement from a relationship was the hardest part and certainly the one aspect to which I hadn't given much thought back in my teens. In those days the problem never arose. It's important because you don't want a lot of disappointed vengeful women around hating your guts. It could be bad for business. I own and run the Abbott Mills Appliance Repair Centre. Sorry if that sounds like an ad - but we are in the phone book with a branch near you. My name is Miles Abbott.

I realised that by getting involved only with married women the subsequent, inevitable disengagement was a lot easier. There was also a special thrill from knowing you were screwing another man's woman and the poor sap had no idea. I also got a kick out of the whole thing by counselling the wife how to make her marriage work: how to make her husband become the kind of man she wanted him to be. I would say that about 80% of the time I sent a well fucked wife back to her husband and back into a contented, happy and permanent marriage. That's something I'm proud of. The other times the couples were just incompatible and the marriages were doomed before I got involved. Then it could get tricky.

Sometimes the wife saw me as second husband material and disengagement without rancour could be a lengthy and difficult process. On several occasions I'd managed it by introducing them to my bachelor friends - most of whom were actually quite keen to get married but as time went by this source began to dry up.

Once I got desperate. Maureen, a beautiful lovely creature, was keen I should buy her a diamond ring before she asked Albert for a divorce. However Maureen had a very expensive hobby: her own body and its adornment. She was forever buying clothes. She was very good at it too. She wasn't much interested in anything else. Husband Albert, much older than her, was very serious minded and a successful lawyer. Being sued by Albert was the last thing I needed and for a while it was on the cards whatever I did.

In the end I put a dress my wardrobe. When Maureen found it she got angry, very jealous and wanted to know about it.
"It's my little secret," I told Maureen. "I like to dress up in it sometimes. I thought perhaps after we're married we could have all girls together evenings."

Thankfully it worked. Maureen dumped me on the spot, went back to Albert and kept her mouth shut.

Other times I have to say goodbye to a really super woman that I would love to have for my own. Sometimes my own ethics give me a hard time. It's perfectly OK to screw some guy's wife, have an ongoing affair even, but it's not done to steal her away for keeps.

I was really sad when I finally had to send Patti back to Grahame. She was a super woman who was just my type and I missed her terribly. It was such a pity that that stupid dumb pig of a husband had found her first. I briefly considered going for it permanently with her but her little boy had too much of Grahame in him and I couldn't stand the brat. That Patti loved her obnoxious son only made me admire her the more.

However the Patti episode was dangerously unsettling. After it I became vulnerable to obscenely seductive visions of true love, finding a girl and settling down. I even had visions of my own children running around. I toyed briefly with the idea of therapy but decided that with my experience I could safely dip a toe in the water and try out a single girl.

It proved astonishingly difficult to meet one at first. Single girls generally aren't into domestic appliances. Those that are haven't had them long enough to need a repair service. In the end I had to ask Mrs. McCoy, my office assistant and treasure who does all the boring donkey work that comes with any business. Helen McCoy is very happily married and I wouldn't dream of making a move on her. She is far too valuable to my business for that. To show my appreciation I simply pay her well. Never let it be said that Miles Abbot is cheap. There are times when I've been tempted to give her a whirl but sanity prevailed. I always remembered in time that what I want from her isn't sex. Even so, she is attractive and has a lovely dry cynical sense of humour. I never talk about my conquests but I suspect she somehow knows about them.

Her reaction when I asked her was not what I'd expected. She just burst out laughing. "What on earth do you want to get involved with a single girl for?"

"Well I er … I just thought I er… You know."

"Hmm. So we burnt our fingers with Mrs. Willmore did we?" She was referring to Patti.

"Really Mrs. McCoy. You know I always treat our customers with perfect courtesy."

"Yes I know. We have a long list of satisfied customers to prove it. Satisfied in every respect." She added the last bit under her breath. I was going to say something but the phone rang and distracted me.

I knew that women are born match makers and hoped she wouldn't be able to resist introducing me to someone. However, Mrs McCoy knew me far too well to introduce me to some sweet young thing and on reflection that was probably very wise of her. It hadn't occurred to me before but sometimes there can be a fine line between match making and pandering.

Unfortunately much the same idea had occurred to Mrs. McCoy. The only advice I could get from her was to sign up for an evening class in motor vehicle repairs. Apparently girls do that thinking they'll meet guys but no guy ever attends those classes.

As it turned out it wasn't bad advice. There were nine single girls in the class, me and one married couple. I felt a bit of a fraud there. In my time I've built a couple of hot rods and tuned up Ford and Chevy V8s to develop over 600 horse power. I wasn't expecting to learn much that I didn't already know. As far as automobiles were concerned that is.
I tried to keep a low profile to begin with. Here were nine bright, lively women all well-motivated to get a husband. The first thing they wanted to know about me was "Is he single?" and if so "Is he in a relationship?" Later came the question "Is he straight?"
It was the closest I'd ever come in my life to being a sex object. I thoroughly enjoyed it and I can't see why the women's lib people get so upset about men treating women as sex objects. The idea that nine pretty young women were acutely interested in me was wonderful. The snag was that I had to get to know them before I got involved with one of them. I suspected the rest would back off once I did get involved.
Man! But it was difficult to hold back and not respond to the come ons. I found that if I acted a bit shy and nervous they would accept that. Of course I was friendly and courteous toward them, which in their eyes made me more attractive. They even seemed to like my apparent naiveté.
Inevitably I was the subject of a great deal of speculation in that group of nine girls. I let it be known that I really wanted to know more about autos and fancied the idea of restoring old cars which was why I'd enrolled for the class.
The class itself started with a lot of basic theory presented by a grizzled old mechanic who must have been around when it was all invented. I sat through a whole load of stuff about the four stroke cycle which any normal kid knows before the age of ten. The practical work was so basic that anyone who didn't know it shouldn't be on the road. I kept my mouth shut though and learnt how to check tyre pressures and change a wheel. It did get better after that.
I suspect that our class presenter had seen through me the moment I picked up a wrench but he didn't say anything for a while. One evening he took me aside "You learnt anything yet you didn't already know?"
"No."
"Thought not." He left it at that. What he didn't say greatly increased my respect for him.
As the class went on the members of the group all got to know each and quite a good camaraderie developed. I'm glad I held back with regard to those girls because as I came to know them I realised that some were a lot better than others as far as a relationship with me was concerned. Anna was assertive and bossy. Caroline a lovely tall willowy girl, was just a career wife type who wanted a husband to keep her in luxury. Jenny, also attractive in a different way, was a hot tempered passionate creature.
It was Emily, a pretty brunette, who caught my eye. She was taking the course seriously and actually trying to learn something. There was a down to earth quality about her that along with a slender figure, good looks and a practical approach to life attracted me, She was bright enough and I learnt she had a successful career in banking.
So half way through the course I asked Emily out.
"Why did you choose me?" she asked during the entrée at the discrete, expensive little restaurant I'd taken her to.
"Gosh! Am I that obvious?"
"Well, we all wondered who you'd pick. Don't tell me you didn't know how much speculation there was about you."
I lapsed into my wide eyed innocent act that, so I thought, I'd become quite good at. "Uh speculation?"
"We all saw you as the mysterious romantic handsome stranger, like in a woman's novel."
"Oh dear. I am sorry to let you down. I'm er just me."
"Ah! But who is 'me'? I have to report back on you to the rest of them."
"Oh I see. Are you really going to tell them I'm the illegitimate off-spring of European Royalty and I need a wife to run my fairy tale palace in Transylvania."
"Transylvania?"
"Yes. The Draculas are our nearest neighbours, you know. Charming people."
She laughed. "I can tell them you have an off-beat sense of humour. What else?"
"I tell dreadful lies. I'm not really related to royalty."
"How disappointing. I was going to tell them about your palace. Caroline would have loved that."
"Never mind your report back, Emily. Tell me about you. What makes you tick?"
"Oh I'm just a sweet old fashioned girl who works in a bank. You know, regular hours, steady routine and I have to act nasty and chase up people who owe us money."
"Now that business I understand," I said in a Godfather accent. "Sometimes you have to hurt people to keep their respect. Send Emilio and the boys around to rough them up a little."
"No. We bankers aren't into violence at all. Just words."
"Pity. It could have been a good career opportunity."
"Let's get serious. What do you actually do."
"I fantasise a lot."
"For a living."
I looked at her very seriously. "This is going to be terribly disappointing for you and the girls."
Emily looked equally serious at me. "Risk it."
"I'm a fully qualified, certified and authorised washing machine repair man."
Emily did look disappointed.
"I suppose that'll stop the speculation," I said.

"I think I preferred Transylvania."

"So do I. But in fact what you see is what you get."

Emily looked at me. "I see a lot more than a washing machine repair man."

"How many other washing machine repair men have you met? We are rather special you know."

Emily looked at me, thinking aloud. "You've got too much self confidence and style for that." Having satisfied herself on that score she came in from a different angle. "How come you're not married already?"

I took the last question to be the one she really wanted to know the answer to. "Ah. That is a long story."

And with those words I had her total undivided attention. So I gave her a story worth listening to. Most of it was the truth, sort of, but I hadn't seen it that way at the time. "Once, when I was quite a lot younger, I fell in love with a beautiful girl and worshipped her, idolised her even. She was a little older than me at a stage when that is important."

I filled in my tale with long descriptions and small details. By the time I'd got to the bit where this heart broken young man, me, was callously dumped by a cold hearted fickle siren who'd scorned him I had Emily almost in tears. "And since then I've never had the confidence to get involved with anyone else," I finished up as we were having coffee and liqueur. "So I'm still single."

As I say, there was a lot of truth in it. Patti had gone back to her husband and I hadn't been romantically involved since. Physically, yes but not romantically.
"That is such a beautiful story," Emily said reaching out to touch my hand. Then she blew her nose.

"So despite all my superficial sophistication, underneath I'm a very shy lonely guy who's still nervous with women. I really had to pluck up courage to ask you out this evening."

I knew at that point I had her hooked. All we had to do was go back to my place and her clothes would come off by themselves, just like her married sisters. However Mrs. Wilson's dish washer earlier that same day had needed a service so I was able to resist the temptation. I wanted to see how Emily would play it.

I settled the bill and I knew Emily was reassured at the sight of the platinum card. She'd probably seen the Omega too so her mind would be at rest as far as my personal status was concerned. Obviously there was more she wanted to know but she must have felt that she had the gist of me by that stage.

On the drive home I asked her what she was going to say to the girls at her report back.

"I'll just stay with Transylvania. They'll enjoy that. But you must promise to watch out for Caroline."

At her apartment building I walked with her to the main entrance. " I hope this evening hasn't been too boring for you."

"No. Of course not."

"If you like, we could go out again and this time we talk about you. I'd love to hear the Emily Edwards story."

At her door she said "I'd like that. To go out again."

I shook her hand and left. I like to think she was just a little disappointed that I hadn't come on to her.

Next date she did give me an edited version of the Emily Edwards story. She told it well and even got a few of her great loves into it. "I have to admit it. I do have a past."

"Not a bad thing. At least your sophistication is real and not just skin deep."

"You don't mind?"

"No, of course not. It makes you sort of .. more of a real person. You command more respect."

She liked that thought and toyed with it for a moment. "Yes. I think so. I'm glad you see it that way. I was a bit nervous about telling you that."

"Well, I confessed to you all my embarrassing secrets."

"About your unrequited love?"

"And er not much of a past."

"I like that in a man. It's so refreshing."

I liked Emily very much. We got on so well together.

At work I even told my right hand woman about her. "Mrs. McCoy, I've met a very nice girl at the auto repair class."

"That's nice."

"She thinks I am. Please don't spoil it for me when you meet her."

"I wouldn't dream of it. What is it you like about her?"

She was interested so I raved on at length about Emily, concealing nothing.

"So why did you lie to her?"

"I didn't."

"You told her you didn't have much to do with girls."

"I haven't. Girls wouldn't have much to do with me."

"And Patti , Maureen, Mrs Wilson to name a few?"

"Mrs. McCoy!" I sounded shocked. She looked like she'd overstepped the mark. Then I changed to a self justifying tone. "Besides, they're women, not girls. I genuinely haven't had much to do with girls. The subject of women never arose."

I went out with Emily quite a few times and, because I was serious about her I got all stupidly idealistic and didn't make a move on her. I wondered how she'd cope with that.

Quite easily. She kissed me and she initiated a kiss and cuddle session. I rather enjoyed forcing her to take the initiative. It wasn't her nature to do so but for her it was a case of needs must.
"How come you are so slow?" She eventually asked me. We'd been out for the evening and had gone back to her place.
"Oh dear. I'm shy and nervous about this sort of thing. I told you I didn't have much experience and er …." I tailed off.
"And what?"
"Well you've been out with plenty of other guys I was a bit scared that er … I might not measure up, so to speak."
She had to smile. "Do you mean measure up in the literal sense?"
I gave her a wry grin. "That and any other sense."
"I really don't get you. You are so darn smooth in every other way. This isn't some sort of game you're playing. Is it?"
"Hell no. There's nothing I'd like more than to get into your -. Oh never mind Emily. I'm sorry."
She held me close and murmured in my ear. "I'd love for you to get into my pants."
There are some tragic ironies to life and I stumbled across yet another of them. Because I was sincere and genuine with regard to Emily and I really did like her I was as stupid and clumsy and nervous with her as I would have been as a fifteen year old - if I'd ever gotten that far.
I was actually trembling as Emily helped me undress. If she hadn't helped I don't think I'd have done it. I know what it was: for once I really cared and wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to raise her to the same height of ecstasy as I done with Patti. I wanted, like a stupid teenager, to impress her with my prowess as a lover.
As it was, it was an embarrassing fiasco: I ejaculated before I'd even got in. I was so embarrassed I wanted to withdraw from the scene there and then. I would have done but Emily had other plans. As far as she was concerned my performance tallied exactly with everything I'd told her about me.
Afterward I sat there totally naked, dejected, disappointed and ashamed. Emily disappeared made coffee, presumably to cover her own embarrassment at my performance. It was a shame. Emily must have been screwed by some real studs in her time so she certainly would know dross when she saw it.
She came back with the coffee. "What's up?" She must have known what I'd been feeling.
I managed a wry grin and a bit of a shrug.
"Men! So with no experience whatsoever you think you're going to be the world's greatest lover?"
"Well, I didn't think -"
"Don't worry. You'll learn. Premature ejaculation is normal in inexperienced guys. What I like about you is you don't have that cocky know-it-all conceit like most of the others."
Normally I have more conceit than other guys and I really am the world's greatest lover but then and there I really was down. I had no conceit at all. I was grateful that she was being decent enough to dig for something positive in all this.
It was only as I was sipping my coffee I noticed that Emily had put on a wrap. I was, I realised with some embarrassment, still nude. I got up to put on some clothes.
Emily saw what I was doing. "Don't get dressed."
I looked at her.
"It's kinda nice having a naked guy around. I like you like that."
The way she said it made me feel that I had the same status with her as a pet poodle. It was humiliating; degrading even that I, Miles Abbott, the world's greatest -. Oh shit! I was a getting a hard on at the thought. What sort of a woos did that make me?
Emily noticed what was happening. "Ah. That's very good," She said it in the tone of voice that she would have used to encourage a small boy. "Recovery time in less than fifteen minutes. I think we might manage a second attempt. Don't you?"
"Er -"
"No rush Miles. Finish your coffee first."
I felt like a kid who had to eat up all his meal before he was allowed out to play. It occurred to me that I had completely lost the initiative in this situation. Furthermore I didn't mind at all. In some weird way I was enjoying being Emily's pet poodle and decided to go with the flow.
"Now the important thing Miles is not to rush it." She was leading me back to the bedroom. "You've waited all your life for this moment so another half hour or so isn't going to hurt you."
She pulled back the duvet cover. "Now into bed with you."
I got in and watched as she took off her robe. She really was incredibly beautiful with all those lovely female curves. Her lovely firm boobs were perfect, the curve of her hips going down to her thighs just induced pure naked lust in me. I saw the triangle of hair marking the gateway to paradise and I had a vision of the pleasures that awaited within.
She got into bed with me and I moved to embrace her.
"No Miles, not just yet. Remember what happened last time."
So I stopped. Emily was in charge.
"I think the problem is that you've had so little experience of girls that suddenly having access to one is too much for you to handle. The first step is that you have to get used to me and to know what to do."
"Ok."
"So I'm going to give you a lesson in foreplay. First of all just hold me in your arms."
I did so, embracing her, holding her close to me. I could feel my prick pressing against her and it was lovely. It was twitching involuntarily.
"Oh no." she moved away from me.
"What's wrong?"
"You're going to come too soon again." She got out of bed. "We have to do something to prevent that." She went over to the built in cupboard. "Look, I know this is a little unorthodox but I think it will help. Put it on."
She handed me a panty girdle. "Tuck yourself in between your legs and this will keep it in place."
It looked all dainty and feminine but it was like steel as far as keeping my prick under control was concerned. Duly clad I returned to our embrace and it felt like I didn't have a penis. That added a whole new dimension to the eroticism of the situation.
Emily took me through foreplay step by step. As I was kissing her left nipple it occurred to me that being in charge was a novelty for her. She'd never got to order a guy around like this before and it was a turn on for her. She was loving it. It was an aspect of female sexuality that I hadn't considered before. It seemed to me that having a pet guy doing just what she wanted was in it itself arousing for Emily, quite apart from what she was getting the guy to do to her.
Emily's lesson in foreplay was thorough. I learnt that her clitoris was too sensitive to touch directly and she liked gentle pressure applied around it. That got her excited and she was approaching a climax. "Now with the tongue," she gasped. The tongue can be a devastatingly effective sexual tool when properly applied. Emily's climaxes were like a volcano erupting where spurts of magma are thrown into the air with each wave of pleasure.
After she'd come down from her plateau and had her voice under control she told me that I'd done very well. "Now it's your turn and try not to be too quick." In her voice I sensed that she'd had her pleasure, didn't expect too much from this but it was time to throw the dog a bone.
I rolled down the panty girdle to just above my knees. Emily had a condom out ready and I put it on. I climbed on top of her. Emily opened her legs and I slid in. She was very moist and ready. My aim was simply to last. By that stage I was past grandiose dreams of fucking her as she'd never been fucked before.
And I lasted. At first I just kept still, enjoying the feeling of having my prick inside Emily, enjoying the sensation of her vagina enclosing me there. I got through those first few moments when the desire to come is almost overwhelming. Then I felt I had a degree of control.
I risked a few gentle strokes, purely for my own pleasure. I still had control so I continued. Nothing forced or too passionate, I just concentrated on maximising my own pleasure and not getting too close to an ejaculation. I eased off when I felt I was approaching a danger point.
After a while Emily slipped into heavy breathing, then an occasional gasp, growing in intensity. Then it was "Oh God! Yes. Yes . YES" and more to that effect. I switched strokes slightly so that my pube pressed on her clitoris at the top of each stroke. The thought occurred to me that if she remembered her lessons from the auto class she would know she was operating on the two stroke cycle.
It's nice when a woman is having a climax under you. There's that sense that you're doing something right. It allowed me to recover a little of my ego after that earlier fiasco. I just kept going, working for my own pleasure.
Emily was kind of sobbing and gasping and then she worked up to another climax. Her vaginal wall muscles were contracting. That was too much for me. I let go and came, happily coinciding with her climax. Afterwards I lay on her for a while. She was sobbing and whimpering.
She sighed when I pulled out and got off her.
"Thank you, Emily. That was wonderful."
"Thank you."
"You didn't have to fake it for me, you know."
"No. I didn't. That was all real. You were fantastic." She kissed me affectionately, put her arms around me as if to hold on to me, and then she went happily to sleep.
What the hell! It was pleasant there in Emily's arms. I dropped off too.
Sometime during the night that last cup of coffee worked it's way through and I had to take a leak. Still half asleep I got out of bed, stood up and fell over. That damned panty girdle was around my ankles.
Next morning Emily woke me with a cup of tea. "All right. Now give me the truth. What did you do to me last night?"
"Well, I think that's what they call fucking. I fucked you."
"That wasn't just fucking. That was a lot more than that."
"Making love then?"
What was meant as a flippant remark hit Emily between the eyes. I should have known that words like "making love" mean much more to a girl than to a man.

"God!" She got all serious as if she'd just received a major insight.

She was still digesting that when I said "Of course, I was taught how to do it by an expert, you know."

"Who?" she spoke sharply and there was jealousy in her voice.

"You of course. Who else has there been?"

Her face lit up in a loving smile. She got back into bed with me and kissed me. "I do love a fast learner."

Some days later we were in the jeweller's shop in the mall looking at engagement rings. I, Miles Abbot, the world's greatest lover had chosen Emily to be my wife. I was surprised to see Mrs. McCoy, my office lady, come into the jeweller's shop.

"Miles I'd like you to meet my sister Helen," Emily said.

I think it was my look of total dumbfounded astonishment that made them both burst out laughing.



End

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