Mr. O'Connell

Truth to tell, it's all you can do to keep from blowing your wad stroking yourself off, however slowly and tentatively, in front of the great Francesca Majestic sitting there in just her bra, with a look in her eyes (and open lips) letting you know that even a jaded veteran like herself is damned impressed by your debut.

"We're going to need a name for you," she murmurs, evidently thinking out loud. "I'd go with Cawww -- " She interrupted herself and looked a bit sheepish.

"You want me to sound like something a crow would say?"

"No, I'm thinking -- Connor O'Connell. That's it. It has a nice Irish lilt to it, but it sounds a little ... unbelievable. And of course I would reserve the right to any nicknames I choose. Like I might call you ... Conn."

"I see, like ... Cawwwww-nn ... !" you offer, recalling the "Star Trek II" movie.

She stands up. "Caw ... uh, Conn ... I'm going to come around to you." Her eyes on your erection, she automatically takes a ruler from her desk drawer, then notices it and gives another sheepish look, setting it back. "Somehow I don't think this is going to do the job ... !" she purrs, and pulls out a retractable tape measure.

You hold still as Francesca kneels before you and measures your erection. "My God," she murmurs, "the size of you is ... ridiculous!"

"Bad, huh?"

"Maybe 'ridiculous' isn't the best word," she hedged. "Conn, this has got to be the world record breaker of all time ... ! Are you feeling any closer to climax?"

You're using a hell of a lot of control at this point. Fact is, left entirely to yourself, you would have fired full blast long ago, but you're determined to demonstrate as much iron discipline before this queen of porn as you possibly can. But how far can this go, and how to cover yourself if you fail?

"My life's been awfully dull," you say truthfully, "so I'm afraid I've ... been able to keep it up for hours."

"Hours!?" Francesca sounded startled -- or perhaps skeptical.

"An hour or maybe two," you retreat. "Although now that I'm here, now I'm worried I'll be so turned on that I'll keep blowing my wad in no time." You figure, if you're going to admit to a potential weakness, at least couch it in a compliment.

"Conn, listen, we really don't have hours, as you put it. I'm guessing you're a tit man, right?"

Gazing down at lovely Francesca with all her cleavage right there before you, it would be pointless, and silly, to lie. "Damn betcha ... !"

"Conn, I don't want to give you the wrong idea ... but I think I'd better help."

So saying, Francesca unhooks her bra and allows it to slip off, liberating her bosom to an even more spectacular fullness to behold -- and then takes your shaft in her deep warm soft thrilling cleavage.

"Oh my," she remarks softly. "The head of your penis keeps bumping right up against my lips ... !" And very full soft succulent lips they are too, you can't help but notice. She gazes up at you, and you could swear it's with all the joy of a devoted girlfriend eager to please that special man in her life. "Getting closer?"

You wish you could award yourself a medal for having held out this far. "I'm afraid not," you groan, lying flagrantly, as you're tensing up inwardly to keep from splorting.

"Conn ... I don't want you to get the wrong idea ... really, I just want to help."

So saying, Francesca plunges her lovely head down over your tomato-sized glans. In the great scheme of things, getting named Connor O'Connell is a very small price to pay indeed, for this kind of special attention.