Saturday, December 26, 2015
Tie Me Chicago II
It’s a three hour drive from the fair grounds back to Chicago. Lots of time for thought. And of course repeating in my mind are the afternoon events, the raucous laughter as the crowd of brawny males watched my 220 well muscled pounds succumb. The Matsumoto woman was agile, knowing and used her notable strength to counter mine, though no doubt inferior.
But my thoughts mostly focus on the somatic reaction below, her grazing hand seeming to know exactly what was to be found beneath my zipper. I try to convince myself that such penile tumescence is normal, every male responding to certain pressure and tension at points on the spine and perineum.
But then I reflect on her words... ‘You have enjoyed, Matt. Women of authority excite.’
So my stiffness... more then just taut rope judiciously applied?
I think back some 15 years, to days of adolescence... and an older sister. She was brash. But even more brash was her friend Eve, a girl of size, or so it seemed. At 13, my growth spurt had just begun, though sexual development was well under way. And at 17 Eve was not only fully grown but heavily into athletics. Though a handsome girl, her strength was a more impressive attribute and this gave rise to troubles in dating. I suppose no teenaged boy is comfortable with the notion that his date can physically overpower.
And so Eve had problems relating to the opposite sex at a time when hormones raged and drive countered reason.
Matt the brat, as my sister teased, of course stepped into the situation, adding to Eve’s frustration with pert questions, asking about her latest Friday night date... which of course was at home with her mother. I otherwise taunted, a brat indeed, I suppose my own burgeoning hormones warping any sense of decorum.
Well after many weeks of my stupid remarks and questions, Eve had had enough. She and my sister were in the basement doing laundry. I called out from the top of the stairs, invoking the name of an idolized high school senior whom I knew Eve esteemed but had zero chance of ever dating, suggesting he was on the phone asking for her.
Well, Eve just looked at my sister who nodded concurrence, hinting at some kind of silent conspiracy.
‘Come down here Matt. Take the laundry upstairs,’ my sister wriggling her finger most authoritatively.
Why did I choose that moment to obey, I often ask myself. As a brat I usually ignored such sisterly requests. But I descended the stairs and should have been concerned when my sister passed by me quite quickly to leave me alone with the Amazon Eve.
To shorten the story, with sister abandoning the basement, Eve grabbed at my waist, lowered my trousers, shaking my slim youthfulness about like a rag doll. Moving to sit on a stool she gripped my frame with convincing force, lowering my underpants, and spanked... and spanked... and spanked... relieving herself of many weeks of pent up vitriol and me of any urge to again taunt.
Worse was her masterful grasp... the specifics. With the pain I lurched about most paroxysmally. After some half dozen smacks Eve found it more effective to enshroud my scrotum with her free hand, lessening her efforts to hold me in place and assuring that my futile attempts to free myself would result in more agony.
My little plums captured by a woman! Such ignominy!
The humiliation mounted. And when finally freed, adequate punishment applied, I was summarily pushed from her lap... with a hard on!
So there I stood, dungarees and underpants at my ankles, buttocks smarting, erect penis, limited in size, pointing to a smirking Eve.
"Ha, ha, ha," the derisive laugh lingers so vividly in my memory, "you’ll not be dating much either with that useless little thing... Matt the brat."
I stood, stunned. Eve reached down, grabbing the bundle of loose clothing at my ankles. Stripping me more fully proved to be facile, my shoes parked as always by the front door. Yes, with her quick grasp and a powerful snap of her hand I was deprived of the ability to return myself to cover. And she pulled so vigorously I toppled to the floor.
I now looked up at the girl whom I so brazenly taunted.
“I know what boys your age like to do, Matt. Want to do it now? Want to make that tiny thing spurt for me? You little pervert!”
I was appalled. How was it she knew... how was she aware of my furtive late night penile manipulation? And most disconcerting, this imposing girl... really a woman in the mind of a 13 year old... knew I indeed wanted to make it spurt for her.
She quickly and aptly exposed my charade. Taunting, mocking, exposing her as undesired... sexually unwanted... and suddenly with her hands and words I melted. I indeed wanted to perform for her... amuse her... entertain her. My thoughts and emotions were many and conflicting.
My memories are put aside. Interstate 57 ends. I must guide the car into the urban traffic of Interstate 94. There are more recollections concerning Eve, curiously spurred by the provocative words of Midori Matsumoto. Such will need to wait.