The Secret CFNM Life of Tom Murphy

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A college professor leads a double life.
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fmcchris
fmcchris
565 Followers

There was one character trait about Thomas J. Murphy that superseded all others: his innate desire to please people, especially women. As a young boy he would take great pleasure in helping his mother clean the house or run errands for her. His father, having died in an automobile accident when he was just an infant, left a tremendous hole in his mother's life. As time went on, she relied upon him not only for the physical labor he provided, but also for the emotional support that she could not get from her daughter Andrea, who was two years older than Tom. Andrea was a complex, highly spirited, and beautiful young woman who liked to take advantage of her younger brother's generous and self-effacing nature; so much so that his mother had to frequently intervene in order to keep the boy from becoming her plaything. Tom, of course, had no desire to devolve into some obsequious lackey, and as he grew into young manhood he acquired a particular strength of character that could not be easily manipulated. But the desire to please was always foremost in his mind.

This, of course, did not mean that he did not go out of his way to help his sister; he did. More often than not, he took great delight in cooking meals for both his sister and his mother, anxiously waiting to hear their combined moans of pleasure as they sampled their first morsel of food. Unlike most boys in their teen years, who often found themselves in open rebellion against their parents and other siblings, Tom loved being needed by his family. He saw it as an obligation to step into this dead father's shoes and protect and defend the ones he loved. That his mother and sister both seemed to rely heavily upon him for most things pleased him no end. However, beyond this familial devotion, he could be as rebellious as any other young man when confronted with those exemplars of external authority: teachers. And this extended to even the most placid and sanguine of this species who, of course, were all male.

As time wore on his sister's taunts and manipulative schemes subsided and she recognized him at last for what he truly was: a genuinely loving and caring young man; handsome, intelligent, and by the time he reached his eighteenth birthday, physically imposing at 6' 3" tall. He was also, however, prone to introversion, but when in the company of those whom he loved and trusted, he could easily become the life of the party. In effect, he was a man of composites, showing one face to the outside world, while showing another only to those who inhabited his private inner sanctum.

The Murphy's lived in a lovely, but small, converted farmhouse about twenty miles west from downtown Boston. The town was small too, never surpassing a few thousand in total population. Everyone knew each other, and that was how the Murphy's liked it. But, as Tom was finishing high school, he began to think beyond the limited confines of his provincial town to the wonders that existed in the far-flung places of the world. He felt a little like George Bailey in "It's A Wonderful Life," who always wanted to see exotic and novel places, but was never able to do so for one reason or another. Tom would not allow that to happen to him. He would work and save his money and, after college, he'd make sure to travel the world. He might even take his mother and sister along too, if he could afford to do so. He had a very big heart, Tom Murphy did.

After earning his degree in teaching from one of Boston's most renowned educational institutions, Tom continued to live with his mother and sister, finding a teaching job as an associate professor of political science at Harvard. Although he often had the opportunity to date attractive women, he rarely did so, finding himself at a loss to devote time to pursuits that he found at odds with his devotion to study. He had also promised his mother not to live on campus but to return home every night to be with her. He didn't mind this restriction because it made him feel good to be needed. He truly enjoyed caring for his mother. Not that he was a mama's boy. He wasn't. He was just a dedicated and loving son—a man of rare and exceptional talents who didn't need a woman on his arm at every moment, like some men did.

The few times that Tom did go out on dates, he tended to prefer intellectual, self-confident, pedigree types that represented the antithesis of the provincial, sheltered, and timid varieties, which seemed to flourish in his own hometown. On one occasion, he asked a fellow teacher, a certain Ms. Severance, to have dinner with him at a pricey restaurant in Harvard Square. At first she played hard to get, but Tom's good looks and charming ways soon won her over. She was tall, about 5' 9", and quite stunning, with long, coal black hair that fell to her waist, and eyes that sparkled like two huge aquamarines. Physically, she seemed flawless. But it was not so much her fabulous looks that attracted him—it was her commanding presence that both impressed and excited him most.

Tom dated more often as the school year proceeded, being drawn to any woman whom he thought might offer him an intellectual challenge. He dated women from the college faculty and staff, as well as women whom he met at clubs, parties and other social events. Once he even dated a woman who ran a local salon, simply because she was feisty and was not afraid to tell off some male customer who tried unsuccessfully to come on to her.

But the truth about his nature, which for most of his adult life had been unconsciously suppressed, finally came to light when Ms. Severance and he were conversing in her classroom after normal school hours. They had been discussing an issue relating to world politics and he was losing the argument. Most men would have become angry if they found themselves losing ground to a woman, but he found himself wanting to surrender to this dominant, intellectually powerful Amazon. With each counter argument she offered, his position weakened further still, until he realized that he was becoming sexually excited watching her make a fool of him. As they sat across from the table from one another, he occasionally glanced at her feet and lovely long legs. He wanted more than anything to run his tongue up and down those delicious limbs in humble servitude. He wanted to remove her shoes and suck each pristine toe into his mouth, cleaning each one with his hot, wet tongue, on his knees before her like a supplicant, begging for the chance to devote himself to her every whim.

But what finally drove him to the realization that he enjoyed being dominated by women was when, moments later, a female student came walking into the class to be reprimanded by Ms. Severance. The student, a pretty young girl of nineteen who had been caught with marijuana in her handbag, looked nervous as Ms. Severance ordered her to sit down. Tom quietly seated himself behind the girl and to her left so that he could continue to stare lustfully at Ms. Severance's beautiful and sexy legs.

With every caustic remark delivered to the girl, Tom found himself getting more and more turned on. And as the verbal barrage continued, his cock began to grow. Shielded by the student, Tom could take in more and more of those astoundingly long legs that seemed to captivate him beyond his comprehension. Was he going mad with lust? He didn't know, nor did he care. All that mattered to him at that moment was that he felt a tremendously powerful sexual thrill that made him gasp with pleasure.

And then, in the middle of her strident harangue, Ms. Severance let the shoe from her right foot drop, exposing the succulent foot and its perfectly manicured toes. It was an unconscious effort on her part, but it brought Tom more joy than he could imagine. There was nothing he could do but reach down toward his crotch and begin stroking his aching penis. He knew it was wrong. He knew that, if caught, he might lose his job, but he was beyond caring now. All he wanted to do was to get on his knees and worship those lovely appendages that so captivated him.

As he stroked his stiff prick, he imagined himself completely nude in front of both women. And this new and exciting fantasy began to take on a form all its own as he pictured himself the naked plaything of this commanding woman and the chastised girl. He wanted them both to watch him strip the clothes off his body, his huge jutting hard-on waving in the air, his two bulging testicles overripe with hot sperm, ready to shoot its monstrous load of molten white cream high into the air for both women to enjoy, and then to bask in the sublime radiance of their collective beauty, totally drained and spent.

And then he started to cum. He could feel the warmth of his semen saturate his pants as his hand forced spurt after spurt of milky spunk from the depths of his swollen balls, all the while keeping his eyes focused on Ms. Severance's luscious legs and feet. It felt so good, not only because of the visual treat he was experiencing, but because his orgasm coincided with a particularly virulent verbal attack upon the cringing girl. He had never cum so hard before.

From that moment on, Tom began to utilize the Internet to provide the bulk of his clothed female, naked male (CFNM) experiences. He found many adult sites dedicated to providing its members with quality CFNM videos and photos, and he quickly became a CFNM junkie. For hours on end he would sit in front of his computer jerking off to pictures of naked men being controlled and manipulated by dominant women. He was thrilled as never before.

It was during the fourth year of his teaching tenure at Harvard that he met and fell in love with a strikingly beautiful blonde woman from Cambridge—a socialite from a very rich family who had roots going back to the days of the Revolution. Her name was Abigail Worthington, and she was, at only 22 years old, a force to be reckoned with.

Abigail was a brilliant, strong-willed, and tremendously ambitious woman who had been recently elected to the Cambridge town council—the youngest person to occupy that post. She single-handedly was responsible for initiating a series of tax cuts that brought welcomed relief to the town's struggling economy and also engineered an all-encompassing jobs program that brought an influx of workers into the community from all parts of Massachusetts. For this she was greatly admired by her peers and the average worker, who saw her as a champion of the people. Rich and powerful as her family was, she herself was a person who believed strongly in Democratic principles, seeing this as the only viable route to a town government predicated upon justice and equanimity. For all her money and status, she remained essentially a woman of the people.

During one of her speeches delivered at Harvard one humid July afternoon, she was introduced to Tom by a mutual acquaintance. Tom quickly became enamored of her and she of him. After a brief courtship, the two married and settled in a luxurious apartment on the southern end of Harvard Square overlooking the Charles River. He had never been happier.

During the first two years of their marriage, Tom seldom felt the need to seek out his sexual thrills via the Internet. His beautiful wife was more than a match for his own powerful sexual urges. However, in the third year of their marriage, his desire to seek out anything related to CFNM, so long dormant, suddenly resurfaced, and he began to indulge his passion whenever his wife was not at home. A part of him felt like he was betraying his wife's trust—that what he was doing would not be understood nor appreciated by her. But his desires quickly overcame any misgivings he might have had, and he assiduously pursued his rampant fetish as often as he could, sometimes spending hundreds of dollars per month in adult site membership fees. He charged these fees to his own personal credit card, the bill of which was delivered to his own private post office box.

Tom was extremely careful to erase all evidence of his Internet behavior. The last thing he wanted his wife to know was that underneath all that façade of outward manly bravado lurked a closet fetishist. He knew that he wasn't a true submissive, yet he did enjoy watching naked men humble themselves before women. He also enjoyed watching men's bare bottoms spanked by clothed women and especially enjoyed it when multiple women tied men down to a table and milked their stiff pricks until they lost control and spewed giant arcs of cum high up into the air. He always watched these orgasmic sequences in slow motion, enjoying every savory spurt of cum as the women's expert stroking forced the sperm from the men's excited tools.

But more than enjoying watching ropes of cum cascade into the air, it was the women's reactions to the men's orgasms that really turned him on. Sometimes he would imagine his wife doing the same thing to him, and he laughed aloud knowing her conservative upbringing would never place her in that role. On one hand he was thankful for it, on the other he was dismayed because he wished she were a little more adventurous. The truth was, he was afraid to tell her anything about his clandestine desires for fear she might think him a pervert, which of course he was. She was a woman of quiet dignity and a community leader. She would never understand. It would have to be kept a secret from her—forever.

It was in the fourth year of their marriage that Tom finally made the decision to seek out CFNM experiences in the real world. He had often read about people who took part in wild CFNM parties and he wanted desperately to be dominated by beautiful women and to have them watch as he masturbated in front of them. In truth, he had grown jaded with what was available to him on the Internet. And his wife's focus on conventionality in their bedroom encounters left him hungry for something more exciting and unusual.

Searching through one of the CFNM blogs one evening, Tom came across an ad listed by an organization known for holding lavish CFNM entertainment such as strip shows, private events, bachelorette parties, etc., that catered to women. The company, called "Ladies First," was looking to hire handsome, well-built males to serve as waiters for their all-women events. The men would have to go completely nude with the exception that they must wear bowties and shoes. It appealed to Tom immediately.

He sent an e-mail to the contact listed on the page and the next day received a reply to come in for a personal interview at the company headquarters in downtown Boston the following week. He was to report between the hours of 10:00 AM and 7:00 PM to the "Lansdowne Studio" on Boylston Street, where he would be asked to remove his clothes before an audience of several females. If he felt uncomfortable doing this, the e-mail stated, then he need not apply.

When Tom read this his heart leapt for joy. A chance to finally expose himself before a group of clothed women! Outrageous! And thrilling! That night he hardly slept at all.

The rest of that week, and for part of the next, Tom was preoccupied with the thought of stripping himself naked in front of a bunch of fully clothed women. It was all he could think about. Abigail didn't know what to make of his odd behavior. When she questioned him if anything were wrong he quickly reassured her that it was his workload at the college that was putting a lot of stress upon him. This was true to some extent, but far from the whole story. Somehow he managed to convince her that he was telling the truth. She bought his story and thought nothing further of it.

On Wednesday of the following week Tom arrived at the "Lansdowne Studio" promptly at 10:00 AM, having called in to work sick that day. His wife had already left for an out-of-town company meeting several hours earlier. As he walked in the front door he found the room empty, with the exception of an attractive-looking middle-aged woman who was sitting at a desk at the far end of the room. As he walked toward her she lifted her head slowly and smiled at him.

"May I help you?" she said politely.

"Yes," Tom replied. "My name is Tom Murphy and I have come for the interview with 'Ladies First'."

"Oh, of course." She let her eyes take in the full measure of him. "Please fill out this form and give it back to me and I'll let them know you're here."

"Where are all the people?" he inquired. "I thought there would be a lot of guys..."

"Most of them come in at noon when they're on their break from work and some come after 5:00 PM. This place can get pretty crowded. Be thankful you don't have to deal with that."

The woman handed Tom a clipboard containing some paperwork and a pen, then retreated through a door behind her. Tom sat in a nearby chair and filled in the form with a shaking hand. He had no idea what to expect. And that look that woman gave him! It was downright lustful! He felt his heart begin to beat wildly in his chest as he supplied the necessary information.

A few minutes later the woman re-emerged and in a lilting voice said that "they" were ready to meet him. Tom hurriedly finished writing on the form and handed it back to the woman.

"All done," he said smiling nervously.

She took the clipboard from him and told him to proceed though the door from which she had just emerged.

"Good luck, Tom," she said, almost laughing as she did so.

Tom was not prepared for what he encountered as he opened the door. There, before him, was a large rectangular table around which sat no less than two dozen women—all fully outfitted in business suits and all very attractive—discussing in a most animated fashion the merits of the males whose pictures they had displayed before them. Their ages ran the gamut of what he thought were young girls in their early twenties to more mature specimens in their fifties and sixties. As he walked in their conversations came to an abrupt end and all eyes focused on him.

"Mr. Murphy," one of the older women said to him. "Please come in and have a seat over there."

She pointed to a chair that stood on an elevated platform about a dozen feet from the head of the table. As he sat down all the women shifted their chairs to get a good view of him.

"He has nice shoulders," one young blonde woman commented to another.

There were several giggles and then the older woman spoke.

"Okay, enough ladies. Mr. Murphy, my name is Esther Wallace. May I call you Tom?"

"Please do."

"I have to ask you several questions and then you will be asked to remove your clothes. Is that all right with you?"

"Ah," Tom hesitated. "You mean remove my clothes in front of you?"

"Yes," she replied, in a matter of fact tone. "In front of all of us. Do you have any objections?"

"Well, I..."

"You did read the ad didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that all our waiters go naked at our events."

"Yes, I know that. It's just that I've never done this before. You have to admit it does seem a bit odd."

Tom's hands were starting to feel clammy. Maybe he wasn't really cut out for this CFNM thing after all—at least not the reality of it.

"If you are uncomfortable being nude in front of women then we really have nothing further to discuss I'm afraid."

"No, no, it's not that," he replied quickly. "I just want to know...will my face be posted all over the Internet? I have a reputation to uphold."

Esther smiled. "You need not worry about that, Tom. All of our clients, as well as those who work directly for our company, are guaranteed complete anonymity. Like you, they have reputations to uphold too."

"Come on!" one of the young girls sitting in the back of the room shouted. "Let's see some beefsteak!"

At her instigation, the rest of the women began to push him to remove his clothes. At first hesitant, he found their raucous encouragement titillating, and when he exposed his muscular bare chest to them to wild applause, he lost all timidity and rapidly disposed of his pants, shoes and socks.

fmcchris
fmcchris
565 Followers