2:00 am
                                   ~~~~~~~
                                   by Nevyn


Mmm. Listen to the quiet sussuration of rain on the tile roof. A comfortable
sound in the warmth of the lounge. The fire has burned down now, only the
embers flaring briefly to life when the wind outside causes a draft in the
fireplace.  Lightning is flickering on the hills to the east; a reminder of
the storm that passed over here a few hours ago, and the unpredictable
illumination compliments the glow of the fireplace, and the cool light from
this laptop computer. The candles that were burning before are just pools of
wax now.

I'm feeling very relaxed.  The house around me is radiating a beautiful sense
of contentment and fulfilment.  Upstairs five bodies are weary, and happy,
asleep.  I'll join them in a moment; 2:00am is a bloody silly time to be
typing away at a word-processor.  Still, the story won't let me rest until
it's on paper, so I'll persevere and write it while the emotions are still
real.

Pizza, red wine, good company, and a spa-pool.  House rules:- no clothes to be
worn in the pool.

Saturday evening, Janene and Darryl came over to watch videos and christen the
spa-pool.  They were armed with a nice bottle of Cabernet Merlot, and 'Cat
People', the video.  Nothing can compare to the throaty bass of David Bowies
theme smiting the air through an intimidating sound system.  'Dial-a-Dinos'
pizza arrived as scheduled: 7:30pm.  The television had been hauled outside
with the speakers from the amplifier, and the evening had become dark quickly.
We all stripped naked and quickly piled into the spa-pool to avoid the crisp,
late winter air.

The best scene from the movie is where Natasha Kinski is tied to the bed, the
camera angle is from directly above, looking down on her luscious naked body.
The hero who is tying her up spreads her legs just that little bit more, for
the camera.  Very tasty.  And then he fucks her.  Now you and I both know that
she turns into a panther here, and that she is helplessly tied to the bed.  I
KNOW he fucks her again.  Who would miss an opportunity like that, right?

Around 9:30ish the sky was beginning to turn black-on-velvet with clouds, and
the slight breeze picked up.  It was too unpleasant to remain outside, so we
hastily picked up the entertainment and headed indoors just as the first
spatterings of rain began to speckle the cobblestones.

I started the fire, and dimmed the lounge lights, and the four of us sprawled
out on cushions in a semi-circle around the flickering warmth.  We were all
wearing naught but bathrobes.  Darryl deftly fashioned a joint to pass around.
The mellow buzz it produced complimented the light-headedness of the wine so
that we were all relaxed and at ease in the glow of each others company.  The
conversation flowed and ebbed, drifting from topic to topic; briefly alighting
on one subject before flitting to the next.

A momentary bright flash of light followed a couple of seconds later by a deep
rumble meant the storm was building up to greater strength, and the rain went
suddenly from a gentle hiss on the tile roof to an undulating roar.

Hamlet, our Great Dane dog, padded quickly into the lounge looking sheepish.
No doubt the storm was making him nervous, and he had sought us out for the
reassurance.  Xanth, our Mastiff bitch, was probably sleeping through it in
the kitchen.  Hamlet stretched out his front paws and lowered his front half
to the floor between myself and Darryl.  Eventually he lowered his tail-end to
the floor too.  It seems to be an effort for him to get his rump down to the
floor.  A friend of mine has this theory that Hamlets bum is full of Helium,
and therefore lighter, so it's harder to force it down to floor level. Then he
awkwardly shuffled forward on his elbows until his front paws were almost in
the fireplace.  As the heat soaked into the heat-leech, he drifted off to
sleep with his head on his paws.

It was time, therefore, to bring out the deck of cards, for a game of strip
poker.  Heather has a lovely deck; the face of each card has a highly detailed
charcoal sketch of a sexual perversion.  The four suits are Spades =
Self-abuse. For example the four of spades features a woman bringing herself
to orgasm with a large, knobbled dildo;  the ten of spades features a man
lying on his back on the floor with his legs lifted back over his head,
cumming into his own mouth.  Clubs = Bondage;  variations on the theme of
people tied / chained / shackled in various positions and situations;  the
queen of clubs features a nude man on his knees with his hands cuffed behind
his back, his head held down by a collar fixed to the floor so his chin is on
the ground.  A woman dressed in classic 'bitch' attire stands behind him
forcing the handle of a large bull-whip up his arse. Diamonds = Paedophilia.
Children from around age three to thirteen, boys and girls involved in sex
with each other and adults.

Hearts = Bestiality.  I'm tempted to describe each card in detail here, but
I'll just give a description of my favourites.  The three of hearts features a
charcoal drawing of a huge bulldog mounting a woman from behind, drooling on
her neck as he fucks her.  The four shows a man screwing a gorgeous tigress.
The eight of hearts is interesting;  a naked man is held down on the ground by
several monkeys, his arms and legs spread and immobile.  Most of the male
monkeys are jerking themselves off, and cumming on the guy.  Two monkeys are
licking his chest, and another is playing with his dick. The big toe of the
guys right foot is firmly implanted in the fanny of a female ape, who is
pleasuring herself on him.  Several apes in the background are screwing /
sucking each other.  Quite a detailed little orgy.  Then there is the queen of
hearts.  This depicts a nice picture of a woman swimming underwater on her
back, embracing a male dolphin.  The drawing is such that her leg closest the
artist is lower, so the dolphins dick can clearly be seen entering her.

O.K., so we were playing strip poker.  Remember, we were all only wearing
bathrobes, so after the first hand Heather was naked. Then Darryl.  Darryl
lost the next hand too.  What to do, what to do? It's kinda traditional to
play forfeits after a player loses strip poker, and who were we to break a
long-standing tradition?  Janene had won that hand so she had the right to set
the forfeit.  With an evil glint in her eye she declared that Darryl had to
retrieve the can of Whipped Cream from the refrigerator, spray it on his
balls, and let Hamlet lick it off.  Personally I thought that it was a rather
daring forfeit to open the game with.  Evidently Darryl thought so too, and
scowled at her, but went to the 'fridge anyway.  He returned shaking the can
vigorously.

At the first touch of the cream on his balls he fairly shrieked that it was
"Fucking cold!".  Hamlet was instantly wide awake at the first smell of the
cream, and eagerly set to licking the sweet goo off Darryls balls as he knelt
near Hamlets head.  Darryls scowl faded into a look of pleasure at the caress
of Hamlets soft tongue.

Next hand, Janene lost, so she quickly shed her gown.  I hate being the only
one dressed, so I deliberately misplayed my next hand, and lost.  Janene lost
the next hand, with Darryl the winner.  You should have seen the look of
insane glee that leapt onto Darryls face! He pointed to the can of whipped
cream and declared that Janene had to spray it onto Hamlets balls, and then
lick it off.  The scowl she shot back at him would have frozen argon.  I
commanded Hamlet to roll over onto his back, and he lay there with his back
legs splayed out, wagging his tail.  Heather distracted him by scratching his
ears while Janene sprayed the cream onto his balls.  He jumped when the cold
touched him, but lay fairly still.  Then Janene leaned over and, tentatively
at first, began to lick the stuff off Hamlets ballbag. Soon, with mounting
enthusiasm, she was taking Hamlets whole ballbag into her mouth and sucking
gently.  Everyone was getting quite aroused watching, including Hamlet! Darryl
decided she had forfeited enough, and that we better play the next hand before
he lost control.

I decided to misplay my next hand too, and lost.  Darryl had won again, but
before he set my forfeit, Heather grabbed the cards I had discarded earlier in
the hand and showed them to the others.

"How often do you throw out two aces in poker, hmmm?", she smiled sweetly at
me.  Oops.  Busted.  Darryl set my forfeit, and Heather set my punishment; for
losing the hand Darryl wanted to sixty-nine with me, and for cheating I wasn't
allowed to cum.

We lay on the rug on our sides, face to cock, and I began to explore Darryls
balls with my tongue.  Similar sensations were playing on my balls.  Nuzzling
my face into his pubic hair I began to lick his shaft, feeling him do the same
to my dick.  With one hand I began pulling his foreskin back and forward as my
lips slipped over the swollen head of his dick.  This was echoed on my own
dick, which was putting me in serious danger of breaking my punishment by
cumming. Normally if I wanted to stave off orgasm for awhile I would bite my
tongue, and think of something dull (just how DO you differentiate a quadratic
equation...), but with Darryls dick down my throat so I couldn't bite my
tongue, and the sensations he was ministering with his mouth and hands, I was
getting closer and closer to cumming.

Heather and Janene were sitting close together, watching our performance.  By
watching between Darryls legs I could see that Heather was gently massaging
Janenes breast, while she in turn was stroking  Heathers inner thighs.  The
way Heather leaned her head back with her eyes closed told me that Janenes
fingers were getting a little more intimate.

Suddenly Darryl tensed and his fingers dug into the flesh of my thighs as his
cock spasmed in my mouth.  My taste was flooded with several quick spurts of
his warm semen that I eagerly swallowed.  He was involuntarily squeezing and
sucking hard on my dick as he came. It was too much and I couldn't hold myself
back any longer.  With an anguished gurgle of thwarted willpower I felt the
waves of pleasure wash into me as I came into Darryls mouth.

We rolled apart slightly and I lay on my back on the rugs with my eyes closed
to savour the departing tingles of pleasure.  A bright flare registered
through my closed eyelids, punctuated by the telephone chirping in surprise.
Less than half a second later a huge crash of sound shook the whole house.  I
jumped and opened my eyes to find the room mostly dark.  The storm had knocked
the power out so the fire was providing the only illumination.

Heather left the room in search, I guessed, of candles.  A moment later I
heard the rattle of wheels coming down the hall with the glow of candles
preceding.  When the stocks rolled into the lounge, pushed by Heather, I was a
little surprised.  Xanth followed her in, woken at last by the storm, and
flopped in front of the fire.

I think I mentioned the stocks once.  They are something I built on a whim
once when I had some timber left over from a wind-shelter. It was built with
comfort in mind (as much as that is possible with stocks).  It has a
horizontal beam with three depressions cut into it, lined with velvet, for two
arms and a head.  A matching beam fits over the first and is locked into place
with a padlock, holding the victim bent over so their head is only slightly
higher than their bum, (adjustable, of course, for shorter or taller people).
The victims feet are held immobile between the frame of the base by chained
shackles (also velvet lined).  For comfort, a padded knee-rest has been
provided so although the victim is standing bent at the waist, there is little
muscular strain and they can be held there for hours without discomfort (from
the stocks, that is).

Heather placed the candles around the room and the effect was quite pleasant;
the room took on an air of ritual, reverence.  She turned toward me, "Well,
you broke your forfeit a second time, so you have to occupy the stocks until
further notice."

They locked me in, nude, bent over and vulnerable.  And then they tortured me.
All I could do was watch as Heather began caressing Janenes nipples again,
then she leaned over and began to lick them. Gently she helped Janene lay
back, and then ran her hands down Janenes body.  With her fingertips Heather
traced lines down Janenes legs, then dragged her nails carefully up her
thighs.  Janene spread her legs, and Heather knelt between them, and lowered
her head to kiss the exposed flesh of her sex.

Hamlet suddenly stood and wandered over to stand over Janenes head.  He does
that when he's horny and wants to be jerked off.  I thought Janene would
ignore him, but I was as surprised as Darryl when Janene reached up and began
playing with Hamlets balls.

Looking somewhat affronted, Darryl watched Janene rubbing Hamlets sheath back
and forth over the dogs growing hardon, while Heather was tonguing her vagina
lips.  Then Darryl shrugged his shoulders and started scratching Xanth down
her back with his nails. She glanced around and thumped her tail on the
ground, then abruptly rolled over, waving her legs in the air and snuffling.
Like Heather, Darryl leaned over Xanth to lick her nipples, eight in all.  His
tongue traced around each nipple, then down to the 'Y' shaped opening of her
pussy.  I have never been keen on the taste of Xanth, but Darryl was lapping
her up with real enthusiasm.

Watching the performance of Janene writhing with pleasure from Heathers
tongue, while the first squirts of Hamlets cum splashed into her mouth, and
Xanth bucking her hips up off the floor to meet Darryls tonguing was making me
horny as hell.  And I was stuck in the damned stocks, for my sins.

The thunder rumbled deeply again, and Janene started cumming. She wrapped her
legs around Heathers head, and (rather rudely, I thought) pushed Hamlet away
so she could grab Heathers hair with her fingers.  With a moan of pure delight
she rocked her hips as Heather sucked on her clit.

Xanth too seemed to be in the throes of ecstasy, licking her lips and humping
to force her own hot-spot against the pressure of Darryls mouth.

I needed some action real bad, so although I couldn't go anywhere, I could
still call Hamlet over.  Leaving the bodies writhing on the floor, he wandered
over to me and snuffled at my balls with his cold, wet nose.  "Hup, Hamlet.
Hup", I encouraged him.  No stranger to this kind of invitation, he jumped up
and placed his front paws on my back.  Then he shuffled his feet forward until
the tip of his thrusting penis was poking me around my arsehole.  Normally I
would reach around with my hand and guide him into me, but my hands were kinda
restricted, so all I could do was move my bum around and hope we connected.

Eventually the pointed tip scored a hit on the hole, and he slowed his
thrusting to a sustained push to get the length of his dick inside me.  Mmmm,
there is nothing like feeling the slow penetration of a dogs dick into your
butt.  Then he dropped down so his chest was resting on my back, and his front
legs were grasping me around my waist so he could increase the tempo of his
thrusting to a rhythmic pummelling.  It was quite lucky that he didn't tie
with me;  that is where the swelling at the base of his dick (in Hamlets case,
a lump of flesh the size of a tennis ball) lodges inside my arse.  If he had,
at the rate he was fucking me he probably would have torn my arsehole to
ribbons.  As he drove into me, his balls  slapped against my thighs, and the
knot of his dick stretched my sphincter to the point of pain trying to gain
access.

Finally he stopped his frantic humping and just held me with his dick pulsing
inside me.  Each pulse was a squirt of dog-cum into my rectum.  Personally I
think this is the most sensual moment, where Hamlet is deeply immersed in the
flow of his orgasm, just resting his body on my back, and I am savouring the
sensation of his dick swollen to its maximum size, pulsing inside me.

The others were watching me and Hamlet now.  I didn't mind; I've always
enjoyed my sexual adventurousness.  With a grunt, Hamlet stepped off me, and
his dick slid easily out of my hole.  He walked away slightly with his head
down, and dick hanging around his knees, still squirting jets of clear liquid
onto the floor.  Then he lay down and licked himself clean.

Darryl was still hard from the erotic pleasure of licking Xanth, so he stood
and began caressing my ballbag from behind.  I couldn't turn my head to look,
but when he grabbed my waist with his hands I knew what was happening next.
With a firm push, his dick slid into my arse, and for the second time that
evening I was being fucked up the arse.  To be honest, Darryl and Hamlet are
about similar in diameter and length (except for Hamlets knot, the
'widowmaker'), so he slid easily into me in the lubrication of Hamlets cum.

He fucked me hard, driving into me so my shoulders were pushed into the foam
padding of the stocks.  His fingers clawed into the flesh on my hips giving me
a mix of pleasure tempered with pain.  With a growl that scaled up into a roar
of animal lust, Darryl slammed his dick into me, and started cumming.  The
intensity of it caused him to gouge the flesh of my hips leaving bruises that
will take a week to vanish.  Then he leaned over me and wrapped his arms
around my chest, hugging my back while his dick jumped and pulsed in my
bowels.

He lay like that, on top of me until he started going soft again, and his dick
slipped out from me.  I clamped my sphincter tight to stop the liquid from
following.  There was a polite smattering of applause from the two women as
Darryl stood.  He undid the locks on the stocks on the condition that I would
screw Xanth in front of everyone.  Definitely!!

Janene and Heather swapped roles so that Heather was on the receiving end of
Janenes oral manipulations.  Darryl was too fucked out to do much so he just
lay on his side on the sheepskin rugs watching the performance.  With a hardon
that was almost hurting, and fire in my veins, I called Xanth over.  She
rolled over onto her feet and stood wagging her tail, then snuffled at my damp
arsehole to lick up the residue of Hamlet and Darryls release.  She forced her
nose between my legs and squeezed through so my ballbag dragged along her
back.  I scratched down her back with my nails as she went, and as her tail
flicked along the crack of my arse and under my ballbag, we both shivered with
pleasure.

There was no need for lubricants.  Clear liquid from my arousal was flowing
freely from the end of my dick, and Xanth was well aroused from her encounter
with Darryl.  I crouched slightly behind her and grasped her thigh with one
hand.  The other guided my cock to her velvet-lined entrance.  Gently, but
firmly, I pulled her hip back as I pushed forward.  Entry was so easy, helped
by my foreskin peeling back as the tip of my meat opened the soft lips of her
pussy.  Warmth from her body surrounded my meat, and her muscles gently
squeezed and released, squeezed and released along my dick.  I just closed my
eyes and leaned my head back while I pulled her back onto my dick as hard as I
could and held her there, savouring her tightness.

Then I pulled out slightly, just an inch or so, and slid back into her.  The
again, just and inch or so.  Paused slightly to savour her warmth.  Again I
pulled out and slid back in, a little faster and a little further, and the
friction of her tight hole stepped up my urgency.  Soon I was fucking her with
a steady rhythm, both of my hands on her hips pulling her back to meet my
thrusts.  The pressure of my orgasm started to build and I couldn't hold back
any longer.  As hard and as far as I could I forced my dick into Xanth in time
with the waves of ecstasy washing into me.  For each pulse of my dick, there
was an answering squeeze from Xanth, and I howled with pleasure and release.
When I am fucking an animal, I become an animal myself. The mantle of
rationality drops, and I become a machine designed to fuck.

Spent, I lay back onto the sheepskins where Xanth snuggled next to me.  At the
calls of 'Encore! Encore!' from the onlookers, I raised my hand in a
one-finger salute.

We all lay together for awhile in the mellow glow of the fireplace, and
candles, letting the evenings fulfilment blanket us while the storm played
around the night.  Eventually we roused for a late night coffee, then Heather,
Janene, Darryl, Hamlet and Xanth headed upstairs to bed.  I was too wired from
the coffee, so I said I would join them after I had put a few thoughts to
paper.

Well, the rain has stopped, and the storm seems to be spent. I can hardly keep
my eyes open, so I'll drop this in the batch upload queue and crash. It's
4:00am Sunday morning. I wonder what the day holds.