C.D.s Magic Love Skin Cream





CD’s Magic Love Skin Cream

By J. J. Scribe

No one could have guessed the truth about CD’s obsessive sex life. To
any casual observer—or even a curious one—he appeared to be a perfectly
normal man. He was a junior partner at his firm in Philadelphia, with a solid
financial future in front of him. Though he didn’t attend regularly,
he was a member of the First Methodist Church, a friendly face at
coffee hours and social events.

Though divorced for five years, he remained friends with his former
wife and was a loving father to his three c***dren, sharing them on
alternative weekends and summer vacations. He had not been fortunate
enough to find a new lover, though he dated frequently. He had a
small circle of men friends from college and spent time with them on
weekends watching sports events on TV or attending Penn State football
and basketball games.

He clocked long hours at the office and his work closing contracts
with clients involved a certain amount of pressure. CD learned to use sex to
relieve that tension. He was an inveterate masturbator. No matter how late
he arrived home from the office, he went through an almost invariable routine
of pleasure that washed away all the cares and concerns of business.

As he came home each day, he drew the curtains, removed his coat and
tie, poured himself a glass of white wine. He then went into the
little home theater he’d built into a corner of the “f****y room” off
the kitchen. He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped off his shoes, and selected a porn
video from his enormous collection. He inserted it into his tape deck
and removed the rest of his clothes. He then fondled his penis to erection
as he watched the sexual fantasies on the screen. He loved playing with it
while watching the erotic movies.

He had a particular attraction to Oriental women so many of his videos
consisted of montages of Chinese and Japanese lesbians engaged in sex.
He had dozens of the tapes so he never became bored, even though he’d
watched them many times. As soon as he saw the first lesbian kiss,
the first tongue reach out to penetrate an open vagina, he inhaled
quickly and deeply as he pleasured his penis with his palms.
He jacked it slowly as he marveled at the women satisfying themselves
with long, black dildos. He jerked it fast for a minute or so and
then released it so it would calm down a bit.

He’d learned how to make his pleasure last. He traced his finger around
the mushroom head of his cock and down his shaft to caress the hair on
his testicles and underneath them to his perineum. Then he resumed the
heavy jerking until he could stand it no longer. He fell to his
knees and watched the foamy white spurts shoot from his cockhead.

Cumming fascinated CD. From what he had learned reading sex and
medical research journals, he was confidant he ejaculated in greater volumes
than most men. After years of masturbating once in the morning before going to the
office and once or twice again after returning home, he began to need
more. Watching it erupt and experiencing the feeling that went with it was the most
satisfying experience of his life. His hunger for it was all but insatiable.

He began driving home for lunch to masturbate. After about a week of
this heightened activity—while playing with himself as he watched a
video of Malaysian prostitutes---he noticed the skin on his hands had
become uncomfortably dry. He needed some lotion. With his cock bouncing
between his legs, CD went to the bathroom to find some moisturizer
and found none in his medicine cabinet. Then, seeing his reflection in the mirror
with his cock still quite erect, he flashed upon an idea that would change his life.

He began jacking frantically. When he exploded, he caught his
ejaculate in his palms and began rubbing it over his hands. The
sensation it produced gave him such a thrill he rubbed more of it on
his arms and face. It could be his imagination, he thought, but his
skin not only felt softer, it radiated a new kind of warmth.

During the drive back to the office, CD became sexually stimulated by
the scent of his new skin cream. He had a tremendous hard-on when he
pulled into the Chevron station for gas. He went into the men’s room
and latched himself inside a stall and masturbated with glee.

At about 3:30 that afternoon, Linda Tasca, his assistant, delivered
some contracts to his desk for his signature. She sat them in front
of him and sniffed the air. “Are you wearing a new aftershave, CD?”
“Oh, I think it must be the new moisturizing cream I’m using. My skin
dried up all of a sudden. I didn’t notice it had any particular
odor.”

“It has a really nice fragrance, CD. Really nice.” As Linda was leaving
his office, she glanced back over her shoulder to flash him a flirtatious smile.
As she went out the door, she moved her rear end provocatively. Linda was
a professional, a very proper young woman. In her five years of employment
with CD, she had never once shown the slightest sign of physical attraction to him.
Later, he passed by her desk on his way to the men’s room to masturbate.
She wiggled a finger at him, motioning him toward her. She leaned close
and whispered, “May I see you tonight after work? At my apartment?
I know it’s a sudden impulse, but I was just wondering if we could,...ah,
y’know a get together for a drink.”

CD was almost speechless, then quietly answered, “Why, yes, Linda,
what a pleasant idea. Yes, after work then.”

He fantasized about Linda during his drive home. He couldn’t imagine
why this conservative woman would be so bold as to invite him to her
apartment. Then the realization hit him. It must have been the “skin
cream” he’d massaged into his hands and face that morning. Yes, she
had asked him if was wearing a new aftershave lotion. That must be it,
he thought. So he decided to give himself an extra dose of skin cream before
visiting Linda’s apartment. Fantasizing about what she might have in
store for him, CD needed no visual stimulation to achieve an erection.
He disrobed and stood before his bathroom mirror and jacked off to his
own reflection. He came quickly and shot thick strands of creamy cum
into his bathroom drinking glass. Then he rubbed it all over his neck
and face, under his arms, on his chest and stomach and around his
testicles and shaft. His skin glowed. He was ready.

Linda was completely naked when she answered his knock at the door.
She pulled him in and stepped back to display her body for him. “Do
you like it? Do you want it?”

“Linda, I...., oh, yes.” She undressed him as he kissed her lips and face
and fondled her breasts.

Linda took him in her arms and licked his face. “CD I don’t know
what’s come over me. But I just have this sudden urge to make love to
you.” She thrust her pelvis up against him and began grinding it into
his erect penis.
“Linda, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured and then closed his lips
around the pointed tongue she shoved into his mouth.

“I don’t know what it is, but when I saw you this morning, something
just swept over me. Oh, CD, follow me.” She ushered him to her bedroom and
leaped on the bed. She raised her legs and spread her pussy wide and asked
him to take her. The dard triangle between her legs glistened with precum.
The sex they had that evening ranked with the finest CD could
remember.

After they had intercourse twice, Linda gave his entire body a tongue bath.
She was not only gorgeous, she seemed to be totally fixated on him. She
kept saying, “You taste so good, you smell so irresistible. I just can’t get
enough of you.”

Now CD was sure of it. Linda had been overcome by his new cum skin
cream. He had noticed just the slightest musky fragrance from it as he
rubbed it on his body that day. Apparently it was a powerful
aphrodisiac.

The next day he took his experiment a step further. After depositing
another load of his cum into a small bowl, he mixed it with an equal
amount of commercial skin moisturizer to make it go further. The
thickness and color of his semen matched it exactly. Then, based
entirely on intuition, he added some powdered St. John’s Wort to the
mixture, and also put in a pinch of ordinary baking soda and half
teaspoon of liquid vitamin E. He whipped it all up together and
studied its shiny consistency. After testing its aroma, he finished it
off with a few drops of oil of cloves.
He couldn’t wait to see if the new additives would make his new skin
cream even more powerful.

It did. Other women soon joined Linda in asking CD for sex.
One of the most exciting of them all was his former wife, Cindy. When
he dropped by to pick up his c***dren for the weekend, she grabbed him
by the lapels of his sport coat, pulling him closer, “CD, I think it’s
time we tried for a reconciliation. I need you. I know that now.”
She opened her mouth and kissed him, flicking her tongue around his
mouth. Before he could respond, she raised her skirt and pulled down
her panties to reintroduce him to her black bush. “Remember this?
I’ll have it hot for you when you bring the k**s back on Sunday. I
can’t wait, CD. Don’t disappoint me and, believe me, I won’t
disappoint you!”

And she didn’t. Before he took the k**s home he lathered his body again in cum cream
lotion. After they tucked the c***dren into bed, she pulled CD onto the couch.
She ripped his clothes from his body and began licking it. By the
sounds she made in her throat she was especially enjoying sucking his
seven-inch long phallus. Then she mounted him and climbed on his
shaft. She kept saying, “Oh, God, yes.” And “More, give me more!”
He began to reconsider their divorce.

But his former wife was not the only woman who wanted him. In almost
every situation he found himself, women—even ones he’d never met
before—approached him with an eager aggressiveness, inviting him to
their boudoirs, begging him for sex. They wanted to please him with
any sort of sex he wanted. In return, they all wanted the same thing
for themselves. They wanted to lick his body and to give him a
ferocious fuck. Afterwards they always wanted more. Anytime, they said,
whenever he could find time for them. No matter what they were doing they
would cancel any plans to be with him, so long as he would consent to
fucking them.

Soon, CD ran into a problem. Though he was a prodigious masturbator who
produced massive amounts of sperm, he was getting so much sex with
so many women, his supply of the magic cum cream began to run
dangerously low. He needed more sperm than he could produce. So he
invited four of his old pals over to watch a Penn State football game on TV
and to ask for their help. It was, of course, necessary for him to tell them at
least part of his unusual story. He told them how he made the cream
with sperm and hand lotion and all about the reaction it produced in
women. (To protect his formula, he omitted telling them about the
other ingredients.)
“It drives them wild for sex,” he explained with a satisfied grin.
They reacted predictably: “You’re shittin’ us, CD. Man, I always
knew you had an imagination, but this is over the top! You’ll have to
prove that one to us, man.”

Before the football game was over, he gave each of them a sample of
the cream. He rubbed a small amount of it onto the backs of their
hands. He also made them a wager. “You’ll see how well it works when
you get home. And I’ll bet you this: If your wives don’t drag you into the
bedroom I’ll write any of you a check for a thousand dollars. You’ll see.”

And, of course, they did see. The next time they got together none of
them asked him to write the check. They reported their wives had
ravished them and wouldn’t stop until they’d licked the backs of their
hands. “My wife “fucked my brains out,” as one of them put it. He
said she had an uncontrollable urge to rub the back of his hands
against her erect clitoris. The others said they’d had similar
experiences.

That was proof enough for CD’s friends to agree to help him make
more product. They would fill containers with their sperm for CD to make
up enough for all of them to enjoy. Each week they masturbated daily
and collected their spunk in little glass jars they kept in the refrigerator.
When they delivered a full individual container of semen, CD exchanged it
for a vial of the lotion.

It became a bonding connection for CD and his friends. Soon, they
began masturbating together. They sat around in a circle, cocks in
hand, sharing tales about the sexual conquests that had come to them
since they began using CD’s sex cream. One of the men in the group—
a man named Milton Houser—suggested they sell CD’s new product.
“Considering what it’s done for all of us, we’ll be millionaires! What say, CD?”
Houser was a talented marketing man. He suggested calling their new
product “Love Skin Cream,” with a price tag of $75 per vial.
CD would be in charge of manufacturing. Dave Penser and Howard
Bullock took on the responsibility for sales. Houser would handle the
marketing. His plan was to use the power of e-commerce, to establish
a web site and sell it over the net.

Houser began by setting up trade-out cross selling ad banners, hot
links and flash screens on compatible sites to attract customers. He
wrote the text for the home page and found a free lance web site
designer to take care of the code writing and graphics and getting it
on a server.

CD came up with the idea for the logo on the package, a stylized
drawing that was inspired by the shape of testicles. Penser arranged
all the details for encrypted bankcard sales transactions over the
net. They all agreed that once the orders started coming in they’d get
together every weekend not just to masturbate create more product
but to put labels on the containers and wrap them for shipping.
Orders began pouring in on the web site from all over the world. Word
of mouth recommendations from satisfied customers increased the
business incrementally, week by week. They grossed $150,000 in the
first 30 days. Ninety percent of the customers reordered more.
CD and his friends were each masturbating four to six times a day to
keep up with the orders. But as much as they tried, they simply could
not keep up with their burgeoning enterprise.
They had a meeting to resolve the crisis and Houser suggested getting
together with the Jack ‘n Jill club in Philadelphia. It was an
ensemble of about 30 couples and singles who met weekly to masturbate
for each other’s pleasure. The president of the club, a tall thin man named
Rick (“No last names required in our club,” he explained) made CD and
his friends an attractive deal. He agreed to have an attendant collect sperm from
the jack off shooters in the club for a cash payment of $5.00 per
load. He said he could use the money for paying the hotel room where
the Club met and also for and some snacks and drinks for the members
of his group.

CD’s group agreed to a similar arrangement with an Asian gambling
house on the East side. The manager said he would inform every man
in the room that he could collect $10 for masturbating in the back
room and leaving his deposit in a vial. He figured the more money his
customers had, the more they’d lose at his card tables. This setup
was more expensive than the Jack’nJill’s Club deal but CD and his
friends went along with it because they were desperate for additional
raw materials. Still, they knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep up with
the growing demand for the Love Skin Cream. So they ran ads in the
college newspaper proclaiming they were conducting a scientific study of
male sexual potency and promised to pay volunteers $7.50 for each load
of sperm they delivered. They even opened a small clinic near the university
where students came in to watch xxx videos and drop a load.
Ultimately, this proved to be the most abundant source of supply.
Penser posed as a research physician and no one questioned his
credentials. He oversaw the work of two clinic clerks who collected
the spunk from the undergraduate men.
All these sources combined allowed CD and his associates to increase
production by more than 500%. CD had to hire more production assistants
for his manufacturing operation.

After 120 days in business, they leased a 4000 square foot warehouse
and hired a shipping crew to keep pace with ever-increasing
orders. They raised the price of the product to $150 and within six
months sales increased to $400,000 a month. After boosting their price
to $250 per unit a year later, all of them quit their jobs. They were
rich beyond their wildest expectations. CD renewed his relationship with
his ex-wife Cindy and they were remarried in a small chapel in Las Vegas.

A few weeks later CD and his partners had a party in the Rainbow Room
in Manhattan to celebrate their success. They’d earned nearly five
million dollars each. CD, who was after all, the inventor of the
stuff, had received a larger share of the profits. His stock market
portfolio now had a value of $7,540,290.

Houser and the others raised their glasses in a toast to the founder
of the Love Skin Cream phenomenon.

“Thank you, boys,” CD responded. “I certainly couldn’t have done it
without you. But now I have an announcement for you. As you know, I
have re-connected with my former wife. We have all the money we’ll
ever be able to spend and all of you do, too. I think it’s time for
us to whack off one final time together and then move on to the next
phase of our lives, whatever that may be. I see no further need for
us to continue jerking off into our communal corporate jar.”

So they all followed CD back to his suite in the Waldorf Astoria,
unzipped their slacks and pulled out their proud poles. A dancing
nude Asian girl CD had arranged for pranced out of a closet and gave
them good reason to pop up their woodies. They all jacked off in unison,
watching the dancing girl finger her pussy.

Then CD held a piece of paper that contained the formula for CD’s
Magic Love Cream high above his head for all to see. He struck a match
and set it on fire. He set the flaming paper into an ashtray and they all watched
it disappear in smoke.

There would be no more Love Skin Cream. But the stories about the
product continued, and a legend grew up around the brand name. Women
who had personally experienced the private pleasures the fabled lotion
provided them kept the mystique alive.

A decade after it had ceased to be available, women still gathered in
groups around the country to talk about it, wondering if and where
they might again be able to find some more of it.

Today, CD lives in a palatial beachfront home on Ipanema Beach in Rio.
His c***dren are happy and bring him immense joy. His wife Cindy
understands his needs as never before. And CD continues to make small
batches of Loving Skin Cream for the exclusive use of himself and his
wife.

Should the stock market ever fail and his fortune go down the drain,
CD may once again make his magic lotion available to the masses.
Until then, only one couple in the world will ever again be able to
enjoy its fantastic pleasures.



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Categories: Sex Humor
Posted by jjscribe1
4 years ago    Views: 376
Comments (3)
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billddrum...
retired
4 years ago
great story with a wonderful happy ending!
4 years ago
VERY GOOD
4 years ago
Good story. Since you revealed the formula in the story, I think I'll make a batch for myself. Thanks.