CFNM (clothed female, nude male) stories, pictures or anything else
Chapter 4 of my CFNM story “What She Says” is up on Literotica.
I hold your jeans apart so nothing touches your cock. It bobs in the cool air, trying to find something to press against. Your mind is elsewhere, and mine almost is too as I watch it. I glance down at the path: no-one is paying any more attention to us than if we were sitting having a picnic.
The third part of “What She Says”, called “Hotel Room”, is up on Literotica. It’s more CFNM fun, with our couple meeting up in London. Here’s an excerpt:
“Well, I guess you can’t do anything while you’re tied up…”
Your eyes widen. You’ve barely seen a bare arm, and now you’re going to see me naked? The pressure in your briefs increases again.
I look at you questioningly. “Would you really like me to?” I say, teasingly holding the edges of my robe.
You smile and your eyes glaze over: of course you would.
You can read the next chapter in this CFNM story over on Literotica.
If ever there was a blog that I didn’t expect to exist, this compilation of penises in high heeled shoes must be it.
Here’s a sample:
See more on their website.
The second part of “What She Says” is up on Literotica. The CFNM action continues, and this time with video:
“If that’s true, then if I asked, say, that you take your jeans off, you wouldn’t be able to resist? No?” I can’t believe I managed to form that sentence. You can’t believe I was brave enough to ask.
Your mouth drops open. “Well… I….”
“Would it help if I said please?” I ask and then cover my mouth as I giggle.
The laugh really does cast a spell over you. A smirk grows on my face. Will you really go through with this? My smirk breaks into a broad grin.
For a reason that you’ll never really understand, you start to unbuckle your belt. I lean forward again, transfixed by the movement of your hands.
If you missed it, you can read the first part here and
the second chapter is here.
After lamenting that CFNM photos aren’t really for me, I’ve been keeping my eye out for some that are more of a turn-on. I think they need to be one-on-one, with the woman (i.e. me) in complete control.
Having written a couple of ENF stories and started a CFNM story, I’ve been wondering which I like best, both as a reader and a writer. The answer, it seems, is both.
After coming to that startling conclusion, and not being entirely sure why, I started thinking about erotic photography, and which of those I prefer. It seems that CFNM pictures do almost nothing for me. I think that’s because I can’t identify with the man in the picture, and the situations are often groups of women humiliating a man and I wouldn’t want to be part of that.
On the other hand, professionally shot ENF pictures are often beautiful to look at because, let’s face it, the female body is usually more beautiful (from a non-sexual perspective) than the male’s, but also because I can often put myself into the picture – albeit I may not be quite as beautiful or skinny enough to pull it off, I’m sad to say. My love of ENF falls completely if the picture portrays force or anything non-consensual, though. At that point it becomes a complete turn-off.
Enough of the words, however, as I think it’s time to post a picture:
Oh, to be blessed with that body and the mask of anonymity… what a fantasy.
I’ve taken a break from the ENF (embarassed nude female) category and written a short CFNM (clothed female nude male) story.
The first chapter happens entirely over a telephone call. As well as being an experiment in writing some CFNM it’s also a try and mixing first and second person storytelling. Not surprisingly, it’s quite difficult to do, and I’m not sure there are many places where it could work. But it’s been an interesting challenge and, if the responses are positive, I’ll get to work on a second chapter.
Here’s a short excerpt:
“And you’re still nervous?”
“Yeah… a bit.”
“Anything I can do about it?”
The line goes quiet and then you hear me giggle.
“What ya wearing?” I ask. I can’t believe I just blurted out one of the clichés of Internet chat. It makes you laugh, though.
“Oh, nothing much…” you say teasingly. I raise an eyebrow, forgetting you can’t see it. “Just t-shirt, jeans, socks… how much detail to you need?”
Kara Bryn 