CD’s Magic Love Skin Cream

No one could have guessed the truth about CD’s obsessive sex life. To any casual observer–or even a curious one, for that matter–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 children, 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 “family room” off the kitchen.

He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped off his shoes, and selected a xxx video from his enormous collection. He inserted it into his tape deck and removed the rest of his clothes. He then fondled his erect penis as he watched the sexual fantasies of the evening.

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 satisfy themselves with long, black dildos. He jerked it fast for a minute or so and then released it. 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. 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 much 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 was the most rewarding 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 the gism 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 an exciting warmth.

During the drive back to the office, CD became sexually stimulated by the scent of his new skin cream. He had a tremendous hardon 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 concluded.

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 black triangle between her legs glistened with precum.

The sex they had that evening ranked with the finest CD could remember. After they had intercourse three times, 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 perfume 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 children 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 kids 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 kids home he lathered his body again in cum cream lotion.

After they tucked the children 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 them 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 and produced massive amounts of sperm, he was getting so much sex with so many women, his supply of the magic cum cream was running 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. They would fill containers with 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 together 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 South 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 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 a production assistant for his manufacturing operation.

After 90 days in business, they leased a 4000 square foot warehouse and hired a shipping crew to keep pace with the 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 quick 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 high above his head for all to see. It was the formula for Love Skin Cream. He struck a match and set it afire. He set the flaming paper into an ashtray and they all watched it go up 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 ever be able to find some more of it again.

Today, CD lives in a palatial beachfront home on Ipanema Beach in Rio. His children 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.