The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The soothing of Penelope

By Maximilian Cummings

Part 2

The real soothing lotion

Another day, another day of intense work. Another day when Penelope had not telephoned the doctors. That came to her at around 6.30pm as she pushed back her chair and prepared to go home. It came to her because she felt a familiar itch to her left breast and right buttock.

“No!” She said out loud. Not that there was anyone to hear. Not even Steve Knowles as he was not in that day. Perhaps if she hurried she could get home before it really hit but already the itch was spreading and beginning to burn. There would not be time. She needed to apply lotion quickly and, she needed to get her clothes off to do so Easy enough to slip out of her cotton skirt, and as Steve had suggested she was wearing nothing underneath. A quick undoing of buttons and then the clasp of her brassiere and Penelope was once again naked in the office. She reached for the drawer to Steve’s desk—but it was locked. She pulled the handle again. It really was locked.

Penelope tugged at Steve’s drawer, her panic increasing, but it did not come open. Her breasts were on fire and tugging at the drawer made them really wobble which did not help one little bit. The drawer did not budge. It was locked. Penelope looked around frantically as if one of her work colleagues might have absent-mindedly have left a crowbar on a desk. What was she to do?

Again she looked around, had anyone else some sort of lotion on their desk? She could not see anything like that. What was she to do? The burning sensation was beyond an itch, beyond scratching.

What was she to do? She could not just stand there. Should she roll about in discomfort and pain on the carpet but the prospect of the scratchy office carpet touching her skin was not something to be contemplated or borne. Penelope decided to run, jog around the office and hope that would relieve the symptoms, perhaps take her mind off her flaring epidermis.

Penelope ran.

Penelope ran, round and round the office, passing desk after desk with all the ephemera people leave on them, desks and chairs all empty—so different from during the day. What would people have thought at the naked, panting Penelope jogging steadily around the office floor, her boobs bouncing up and down in a way men find so pleasing—and quite a few women, as it happens.

It helped but it did not stop the feeling. Jogging, though, seemed to sort of contain it and made it easier to bear. Around and around she went until to her horror she saw the doors from the lift lobby move. She crouched, peering around a desk. Could she hide until the person had gone—but what of her clothes strewn around her desk? Could she withstand the awful itching feeling whilst crouched there?

It was only Steve Knowles. Her relief was palpable.

“Steve!” She stood and ran up the office to him. He looked surprised to see her—like that.

“I’ve been running around and around, it seems to help and...”

“Have you seen the doctor?”

Penelope’s eyes dropped to the floor. It was sort of instinctive, behaviour from when she was young and being told off.

“No—I forgot again.”

“I should put you over my knee and spank you.”

Penelope recoiled, actually took a step backwards, not from the so inappropriate idea of a co-worker spanking her naked bottom and all the sexual implications that had. Patting someone’s clothed bottom was one thing: spanking quite another! But it was not the inappropriateness that made her recoil, rather it was from the thought of the pain her almost burning buttocks would receive from just a light pat let alone a full smack.

“No! I know I should have telephoned, know I’ve been a naughty girl but your lotion, Steve, it’s locked in your drawer.”

“Ah!”

Steve fished in his trouser pocket and Penelope’s eyes followed his hand. She could see clearly he had erected in his jeans, not just the usually shapeless man bulge but a very obvious, continuous bulging as if he had something long and rounded in his pocket. Too big to be a board marker and nowhere near as big as a rolling pin: but Penelope knew what it was. She did seem to be causing Steve a lot of erections.

The keys were fished from the pocket, right next to where Steve’s bulge showed so clearly.

“Come on.”

Dutifully Penelope followed Steve towards their desks. She was impatient for him to open the drawer and he seemed to fumble at it. Why wouldn’t he ‘fucking’ hurry up and stop bumbling and buggering around? Finally, the drawer was open and there it was—the so desired bottle of lotion.

“I don’t think it’ll go on properly, Penny, You’re soaked in sweat. Come on let’s get you in the shower and then I’ll apply the lotion.”

She was tired from half an hour’s jogging, her mind rather fuddled by the burning pain of her condition. She would definitely make an appointment the next day. Perhaps even go to A&E that very night. Those thoughts were in her mind as Steve led her to the office shower. He came in with her and locked the door.

“Oh, the shower,” she said, rather stating the obvious.

Steve turned it on and tested the water. “In you go. I’ll wash you.”

The water felt a little better. She stood under the shower head, her eyes a little unfocused feeling the soft water cascading down warm on her body washing the perspiration away. She was aware, but a little dimly, that Steve was taking his clothes off. All at once he was there in the shower with her. Almost certainly against company policy to have two persons in the shower at the same time.

Penelope shook her head. What was she doing—what was she doing? How had this happened? She was naked and with a naked Steve Knowles, close and intimate in a shower cubicle with the hot water spraying down on both of them. What was worse, Steve had an erection. It was there inches from her tummy, hard and potent as men’s penises are. She was not a stranger to them. Had enjoyed men and their strange, prominent, so extendable sticking out organs. But this was Steve Knowles’ penis, foreskin drawn back and its flared smooth knob with its little eye so there in front of her. It was thick, rather craggy with veins and upon its upper surface, half way down the shaft a couple of moles decorated the skin. It curved up towards her looking like it meant business and right down under it she could see his ‘nuts’ hanging in his scrotum. How awful to be seeing that—Steve Knowles’ erection and now, she realised, she would recognise it anywhere—with those two moles.

Did he mean to fuck her? To anyone seeing them that would have been the obvious conclusion. Despite the terrible itching she knew she must not let that happen.

The sudden touch of Steve’s hands to her body made her gasp, wince and almost collapse. It was not the thought he might be about to penetrate her with his penis but the simple touch on her so sensitive skin.

Upon the shower wall a soap dispenser. Steve had dispensed and applied, he was gently washing her body, washing the sweat from her so he could apply the wonderful, soothing lotion. She knew she must let him do it despite his erection. She had to withstand the awful feeling on her burning skin. She gritted her teeth and stood still.

Steve re-soaped his hands and applied himself to her breasts. His penis bounced. She saw it and he saw she saw it.

“Sorry, Penny, I really can’t help that.”

“No, no, I suppose not. Sort of natural.”

“Turn, let me do you back.”

She was sure, as sure as she could be with her sensitive skin, that, as his hands soaped her back, his knob touched her bottom more than once, even poking at the crack. She could not blame him. It must have been very difficult for Steve standing naked in a shower with a young woman and soaping her and not do anything sexual.

But he was going to, surely! Penelope knew once the wonderful lotion was applied she would begin to feel an intense arousal. He had helped her with that before, not simply left her to it—her and her fingers. He had perhaps forced that upon her but he had been good, very good at it. She knew men liked to play with women’s sexual bits, but would he go further, not just stuff his fingers in her vagina but his cock as well?

Steve was crouching below her now, washing her legs and, she opened her legs wide, his hands went right up between them where the itching and burning was most intense. She almost collapsed right there upon him. That would have resulted in a press of bodies right in the shower tray. Steve stood and faced her.

“Just under your arms.”

She looked blankly at him.

“Hands up for marmalade.”

She knew the formula. It was what her mummy and daddy used to say. She raised her arms high and Steve soaped her armpits. It was at that moment her legs gave way. Steve grabbed at her, preventing her falling to the floor and pulled her from the shower and sat her down on the bench. From apparently trying to keep a distance from her—and she from him—they were suddenly very close—in an embrace really. Penelope had felt the hardness of his penis squashed against her.

“You OK, Penny? Come on let me dry you.”

She was panting, breathing hard, “I think so.” Before her, right in front of her eyes, was the sex organs of a man. Steve’s penis curving so strongly upwards right there, the foreskin peeled and the knob so smooth. So there, in her face.

Steve began to dry her and she could not keep her eyes off the way it—his penis—moved, waggling one way and then the other as he worked the towel over her skin. And then, bliss, the so soothing lotion but with it the change from pain to pleasure, itching and burning to itching and arousal.

He was standing over her, easing the lotion into her shoulders and all over her breasts and the upper parts of her body, his erection had not subsided at all, it was again in her face and Penelope had the strongest urge to lean forward, open her mouth and just suck. So easy to do, she had done that to a lot of men and she could not imagine Steve would mind. She checked herself. Steve Knowles of all people—what was she thinking of!

But the feel of the soothing, slippery lotion on her breasts particularly on the hard points of her nipples was so pleasing, so out and out sexual. Her eyes just stared at the penis, wanting it. Again, she almost brought her head forward, had even moistened her lips when he crouched and began applying lotion to her legs and then her sex.

Wonderful soothing, stimulating fingers within the folds of her sex, her engorged sex. Fingers entering her body, opening her vagina, spreading it as if it was indeed a penis entering her. Penelope looked down between her spread thighs and beneath her curls she could see Steve’s fingers at work. Two fingers from each hand thrusting in and out of her simulating a penis and, down below his hands, sticking up towards her from the join of his crouching thighs she could see the real thing—his engorged cock. All he had to do was stand and thrust. She knew she would not stop him, could not stop him.

She cried out in orgasm. If other people had been nearby they would have heard, and still Steve’s fingers did not stop. They did not stop until she had come thrice.

She was panting, quite exhausted by the jogging and the orgasming but the itching and burning had stopped. Her body was liberally smeared with lotion and between her thighs she was as wet as she had ever known herself. She closed her eyes in relief both at no longer having the pain but also at the feeling of sexual release. Her sexual arousal had been worked through for her.

A movement from Steve caused her to reopen her eyes and she saw him rise from his crouching position, still all erect. She had come thrice at his hands, his fingers had been where she would never have thought she would let him. He had stroked her, expertly, with his fingers in her vagina and thumbs playing her clitoris to wonderful orgasms: so, should she not do something for him?

The thought awful. She had thought of sucking—sucking Steve Knowles’ cock and making it come. She certainly did not want to do that now. Should she just take him in hand, be kind as he had been so kind to her, so understanding, so gentle—lending his lotion and more? Would it not be a proper ‘thank you’ to reach and gently massage his foreskin to and fro whilst fondling his balls with the other hand and saying nice things about how big and fine his cock was until he ejaculated all over her breasts. Perhaps she should even say ‘thank you’ when he had done that.

Steve, though, did not even ask or push himself forward. Instead he picked up the towel and finished drying himself. His cock did not go down one little bit.

“I’ve perhaps a bit overdone the lotion!” He said, looking at her and he began to pat her with the towel, dabbing off the excess lotion, he even dabbed at her pudenda—it was rather wet. He helped her to her feet and dabbed at her bottom.

“There we are. You can skip along and dress now.” It was as if he was treating her as a little girl, after bath time. She almost said, ‘yes, daddy.”

But it was so not like that. Steve was not a close family member, indeed he was not a boyfriend or anything like that, yet there she was, standing naked with him and his penis so very there between them. He unlocked the door and showed her out of the shower room, actually stood outside with her in the corridor naked and erect.

“I’ll finish in here and tidy up. See you upstairs. Sorry about this Penny, I can’t help it.”

His comment made her look once more at the erection, “No, of course not, Steve, completely natural I....” What should she say? “It’s a nice penis.” She bit her lip, what do you say to a guy when really you should have done the decent thing. What else should she say? “Err, it stands very well.”

He smiled and watched her making her naked way back up the corridor.

Penelope wondered if his ‘I’ll finish in here...’ included a wank. Was he, even now as she walked back to her desk, furiously wanking, perhaps even trying to find the wet place on the towel where he had dabbed at her sex to wrap around his organ. Was he already perhaps going splat, splat against the shower cubicle’s tiles and thinking back to how he had been soaping her? She could hardly disapprove. Really she should have rubbed him off. After all that Steve had done—what would she have done without his fortuitous arrival that evening and everything? It would have been the least she could have done.

“Steve, it’s happening again.” Another late evening. Again a deserted office apart from the hunched figures of two co-workers.

He looked up, “And have you been to see...”

The look of annoyance on her face was not simply at his question—she was sure he knew the answer—but at herself for forgetting to make an appointment. How did it keep dropping from her mind? She had had every intention, indeed had written notes to herself on the pad in her kitchen but somehow even when she had reached for the ‘phone she had been distracted. That morning it had been the toast popping out of the toaster and she had not gone back to the telephone.

“No, she snapped.

“Unfortunate.”

Without even turning away Penelope gave her right breast a scratch through her blouse and brassiere. Steve had seen more than enough of her ‘complaint,’ there was no need to be discreet.

She made a cross sound at his comment and tried to resume her work. It only helped for a time.

“Steve,” her voice rather more ingratiating, “could I borrow your lotion?”

She was scratching herself a lot through her brassiere. Steve looked up again. She did not hide what she was doing.

“As I said, unfortunate, you see, we used it all up in the shower.”

He pulled open his drawer and the complete absence of a bottle labelled ‘lotion’ hit her between the shoulder blades. She gasped,

“NO! I’ve got to, got to...” She was rubbing her breasts through her blouse and brassiere. “Can you get some more?”

“Yes, but you know the rules. We can work late but security won’t let me back in with it. You could take it home...”

“Oh, Steve, I don’t think I could wait that long. I’ll try just taking my clothes off. See if that relieves it. I wish...” She looked longingly at the empty drawer as she undid the buttons of her blouse, pulled it off and threw it from her, quite a long way. The brassiere was quick to follow and she did not miss that Steve’s focus was on the way her breasts wobbled with the throw. She could not help that. It was somewhat of a relief to have the cotton away from her skin. It was only her breasts which felt so irritated so she sat there topless in her loose cotton skirt and tried again to work.

It was really no good. She could feel her nipples harden under the irritation. It was beginning to burn. Why, oh why, had she not made that appointment? Why had Steve so unhelpfully run out of lotion, why had he used it all up the other day in the shower, why had he not bought more? Surely he knew how much she depended upon it? How could he possibly have forgotten?

It came to Penelope as she sat there, seemingly out of nowhere, that she had read, it was there in her mind, that semen had soothing properties, the constituent minerals had anti inflammatory properties—so strange as inflammation of penis and vulva was very much what sex entailed. Had she read it in a magazine or was it something she had heard? She could not remember. A search and the Internet reminded her, it was from ‘The Metro’ (17 November 2015). She had read it on the Tube:

Last week, beauty blogger Tracy Kiss, who suffers from rosacea, waxed lyrical about semen as an excellent ‘cooling, natural skin treatment to soothe sensitive skin’.

She claims semen, ‘harvested’ and delivered fresh each morning by a male friend in a (clean) Chinese takeaway pot, is the secret to baby soft, clear, skin.

‘I think people are concerned with the thought of putting semen on their face but actually it’s a very natural and healthy thing to do,’ she says during her lengthy tutorial.

The 28-year-old credits the ‘man moisturiser’, which she rubs into her skin and leaves to soak in for around 20 minutes, with vastly improving her complexion in the last year.

What sort of friend provided a delivery every morning? What an amusing euphemism ‘harvested!’ What a strange morning ritual her friend must have! Make cup of tea, drink tea, read newspaper, shave, wank into Chinese takeaway pot, have breakfast, shower, visit Tracy, go to work. Perhaps he had a wife, perhaps Tracy had arranged it with her, and it was she who did the ‘harvesting.’ Penelope could not help thinking sooner or later the friend would suggest cutting out the Chinese takeaway pot and making a direct application. Much more fun for him, and one good turn deserves another!

Visiting not a clothed but naked Tracy—easier for one thing to masturbate to a real live naked girl there in front of you, Penelope thought, than pictures in a magazine—and ask where she would like the morning’s semen ‘delivered.’ Perhaps his wife might accompany him to do the ‘harvesting.’ Or why not Tracy herself? After all giving a man a hand job with a view to harvesting his soothing balm was a world away, surely, from having sex with him?

Penelope looked down at her co-worker’s trousers with sudden interest. Would it work, would Steve’s semen sooth her breasts? The idea seemed absurd, yet the article seemed real enough. Her breasts felt on fire—it would be the usual lotion and would there be enough?

But she would have to ask him first. Could she do that—of Steve Knowles of all men? It was not as if she had not seen his cock—moreover erect—indeed had almost handled it and worse in the shower. It had been so ‘there’ and no doubt so ready to produce LOTION!

“Steve—could I harvest, I mean could I...”

He looked puzzled.

“Steve, read this article.”

He stood and leant over her. He read but her eyes were turned to his trousers, almost as if she had been programmed to do so, her eyes specifically staring at his fly.

“Oh,” he said, “oh, how strange.”

Penelope did not wait. Her hand reached and tugged at the brass zipper of Steve’s jeans. Her hand fished inside and pulled his penis out. She had done that before with boyfriends. She was not unused to extracting penises from flies.

“Penny!”

She pulled at speed, encouraging the penis to harden

“Can I, can I harvest you , please, please it might work, your semen as lotion. Please can you come all over my breasts, lots of lotion, I mean cum.” A sudden thought. “There is lots in there isn’t there. You haven’t recently... when did you last come? After our shower? I knew I should have done it then. Made you come. Given you a really nice wank as a thank you. I was a bad girl. There was your poor cock, so swollen, so in need of coming—like I hope it is now.” She gave it an extra hard tug. “Did you?”

Steve’s cock was now fully erect, looking as fine as it had in the shower.

“Penny, I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Her fingers rubbed extra fast, “Oh please Steve, let me harvest you, I so need lotion. Please come, oh hurry!”

Steve pulled away from her. She had the awful sudden thought that he might turn tail and run. She felt her body tense getting ready to sprint after him. What a sight. A man running up an office with his erect penis sticking out of his fly being chased by a bare-chested woman!

He was breathing fast, looking flushed, “I don’t mind, Penny, if you want. Yes, OK, I’ll do it but please not so fast. I think you’ll get more if you take it slowly.”

Penelope was torn. She wanted the lotion—the cum—immediately, to soothe her breasts. She could not understand his reluctance. Surely any man would like to advance upon a bare breasted woman—and she had no illusions she was both pretty and amply endowed in the breast department—with penis extended in full knowledge he was about to be wanked to a conclusion?

Steve advanced. There she was facing him on her swivel chair, her blouse and brassiere discarded behind her. Steve Knowles, her disliked co-worker, presenting his erection to her—and she had asked for it—to ‘harvest’ his semen.

She reached again and her fingers closed on the hard, warm flesh. It was torture for her to wank slowly. Her fingers moving in a nice, steady, stroking rhythm as her eyes stared at the end of his swollen pale pink helmet of a knob, willing the little slit at its apex to open and pour out gobbets of semen all warm and soothing over her breasts.

It seemed to be taking such an age. Men, surely, could not hold back their ejaculations by force of will? She thought it was an involuntary action caused by physical and mental stimulation.

Ah—mental stimulation. Was he getting enough?

“Steve, did you want to fuck me in the shower/”

“What—now?”

“NO! Not now, not ever. What I was asking was when we were in the shower did you think of fucking me.”

“Why d’you ask?”

“Because I want you to cum, and I want you to think, um, sexual things.”

“Like fucking you. You were certainly very wet. It would have been so easy and...”

“Sliding your penis inside me like this.” She tried to simulate with her fingers, “Until you spurt.”

“I’m coming Penny. Can’t stop. It’s... oh, oh, oh...”

Such a wonderful sight—or at least it was to Penelope right then—Steve’s penis shooting, with force. The white semen coming out and across to her, onto her breasts. Splashes of warm, soothing lotion. Only it was not lotion—the warmth gave that away! Her fingers continued moving as she coaxed spurt after spurt out—was she harvesting or milking?

It was enough. Penelope had sufficient experience to know Steve had not let her down and had given her a reasonably prolific ejaculation. Already her breasts felt better, even before she brought her fingers to them, cupped and began to smear the soothing semen around.

“No, don’t put it away, Steve,” she said with her eyes closed and relaxing into the comfort of the soothing lotion, “there might be a bit more.”

Perhaps she massaged for five minutes. She rather lost track of time. She closed her eyes and just rubbed the warm, sticky lotion onto and into her skin. When she reopened her eyes, Steve was still there, his penis still out of his fly but drooping right down and, yes, there was more semen at its tip, a nice big blob of the wonderful lotion. Her finger slicked and applied it to her right nipple and then she reached again and held the floppy penis in one hand, pulled back the foreskin and squeezed it along its length, forcing out, a little more, rather like squeezing an almost empty toothpaste tube (or tube of soothing ointment), to get at any remaining semen still in his urethra. She was rewarded. Another gobbet for her other nipple.

Penelope sat, smiling a trifle absently, as her fingers twirled the semen around her hard nipples. The awful sensation had gone and it had not, this time, spread beyond her breasts but now she felt arousal. A deep sexual arousal. It was difficult to stop feeling—indeed fondling—her nipples and breasts. She wanted to delve into her panties, could already feel how sopping wet they were but she had presence of mind not to do that. Steve’s semen was on her hands. She agreed with Tracy about it being ‘an excellent ‘cooling, natural skin treatment to soothe sensitive skin’ but it was not just made up of its special natural minerals, there were spermatozoa as well in their millions and she did not want Steve’s little men seeking to make babies with her. It was time to go home.

Penelope walked out of the office building into the night, pulling her raincoat around herself. She was quite stunned at what she had done. She had wanked off Steve Knowles right across her breasts. The evidence was still there. She had not taken a shower.

Back in the office Steve Knowles settled back down at at his computer, a satisfied smile on his face. His fingers on his computer keyboard as he looked up more about the rather strange ideas of Tracy Kiss, allegedly her real name. ‘The Sun’ newspaper was further illuminating. Clearly Tracy had gone beyond the idea of the organic moisturiser:

A SINGLE mum-of-two claims she beats the flu by drinking sperm smoothies.

Tracy Kiss, 29, from Buckinghamshire, puts a spoonful of her best friend’s donated semen into her drink every morning in a bid to boost her immunity.

“It can taste really good—depending on what my friend has been eating. My other mates think I’m strange, but I don’t give a toss.”

Steve smiled, he was sure that last phrase with its double entendre was deliberate. He read more:

“Sperm is an awesome product and we should stop being so ridiculous about it—the health benefits have been well researched and more women and men should take advantage of it particularly as its made by our own bodies and doesn’t contain e-numbers and chemicals.”

Tracy, who is a vegan, roped her 31-year-old single pal into giving her his semen. He comes round with a fresh tub three times a week.

“I know he’s healthy, doesn’t smoke, drink or do drugs and I made him have an STI check,” she said. “When I first approached him, he was concerned I’d use it to impregnate myself. But once I’d convinced him it was for my beauty regime he agreed—after all, he has a regular supply at hand!”

Steve’s grin widened. Certainly ‘at hand!’

Tracy, a qualified nutritional adviser, has been drinking it every day for the past month and stores it in the fridge alongside her weekly shop.

She mixes the semen with fruit, seeds, coconut or almond milk—but is also happy to drink it on its own.

“Every batch tastes different, depending on what he’s been eating,” she said.

“If he’s been drinking alcohol or eaten something particularly pungent like asparagus, I ask him to give me a heads up so I know not to drink it neat. Things like pineapple and peppermint make it taste better, but I’ll happily take it straight off a spoon usually.”

Tracy has filmed a YouTube video where she talks through her unusual remedy and explains what it tastes like.

“We look at its smoothness and texture, discuss its benefits and then I show people how I use a teaspoon to eat the sperm,” she said.

“Interesting,” he said to the empty office, “very interesting,” and then returned to his work.