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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Captive Cock part 1 of 1 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CAPTIVE COCK
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
He was all ready for another tough day of practise. He looked
at himself in the locker room mirror. He was one hard mother fucker, he
had to admit. He had swarthy good looks and an excellent build, built
for action. His football uniform made him look even tougher.
Greg grinned at himself. He turned from the mirror and, with
his usual swagger, headed out of the locker room for the field. He
adjusted his jock strap as he walked. It was rumored among the team
that he had the biggest cock and, while he wasn’t sure (he didn’t
exactly stand around measuring the other players), he knew he wasn’t
small when it came to the penis department. The guys had nicknamed him
“Greg Cocker,” in honor of the size of his cock and the 60’s singer. He
wished sometimes, though, as he adjusted his jock strap, that he’d not
been given such a big one by God because it did make it rather
uncomfortable for him when he stiffened inside his jock strap.
Lately he’d been stiffening a lot. His wife had left him and,
free of her, he’d gone back to his high-school ways, sowing his seeds
and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. With a casual air of
conquest he noticed two females dead ahead as he emerged from the Men’s
Locker Room. One was blonde, the other had very dark brown hair, almost
black. They both had long hair, the blonde halfway down her back and
the brunette almost down to her waist, like Elvira.
Greg laughed to himself. If this was Elvira she’d become
awfully young and cute. The girls turned from gazing through a window
at the men out on the field and looked at him. He realized with a start
that they were both quite young. Junior high girls, not even high
school. Too bad. Just two little autograph hounds. No chance for sex
with them. If they’d been just a few years older, he assured himself,
he would have had them flat on their backs after practise and, if they
weren’t careful, pregnant by morning.
“Hello, Greg,” the waif-like blonde said to him as he came up
to them. They looked like two small children standing beneath him,
rising in height barely to his chest. And they were tall for their age,
both with extremely long legs that they didn’t mind showing under
Catholic school girl skirts that looked as if they’d been shortened.
“Yes, girls, what can I do for you?” Greg asked with the weary
air of a star who’s long since lost interest in signing his name for
people.
“Cocker,” the brunette with hair that was almost jet black said
to him. She had her hand lifted halfway to her chest, as if unsure
where to place it, and her index finger was curled slightly, as if she
might reach out and unzip his fly.
Greg tried to force a laugh. “Aren’t you two girls a little
young to be knowing my nickname?” he asked. “My last name is Cook, not
Cocker.”
“Mmmm, Greg Cook, football player extraordinaire, on and off
the field,” the brunette agreed. Greg realized she wasn’t at all ready
to let go of the sex analogies. There was something mesmerizing in her
attitude, he realized. She had a diminutive frame, the exact opposite
of his. Her shoulders were extremely narrow and frail. Her arms were
slender and her face was almost elfin, it was so cute, with large liquid
brown eyes that seemed to possess some kind of a dark inner fire. Of
couse, they shared one similarity. He had a massive chest and, despite
being no more than 13-years-old, the brunette had two large plump bosoms
that rose from her chest and seemed to poke at his belly, demanding
attention. The girl moved and her breasts jutted forward with her
movement. She tossed her hair back, casually, deliberately, and again
her hand seemed to hover in anticipation of unzipping his fly.
Greg knew he needed to ask these girls to let him sign quickly
or he might find himself in trouble with more than just his ex-wife.
“I got to hurry, girls. You got pads or something I can sign
for you?”
“Do you think we’re wearing padded bras, dearest Greg?” the
brunette asked with a sly grin. Now she was really getting under his
skin. He expected females to worship him, no matter what their age.
Hell, if they were as young as these two they should be falling all over
him, not behaving as this impish little (but well-busted) brunette was.
“I don’t really care if your fucking bra is padded or not,”
Greg said in a harsh whisper to the brunette. He was sure that would
floor her. NO female ever wanted to cross Greg Cocker, at least not
before she’d gotten a taste of his assets. Afterward, maybe, after he
dumped her, or philandered around after promising her he wouldn’t. But
not before. Before was always, “I worship the ground you tread, the
urinal you release your pee into.”
“Gee, you look awfully tight down there,” the blonde said in a
suggestive voice to Greg. She was gazing quite directly at his groin.
She was as small in her build as the brunette, with that noticable
exception the brunette sported so lasciviously, a knockout pair of
knockers. She looked even younger, 12 at most, but Greg knew girls
started growing tits these days at age 8 or 9 so it was improbable, but
not impossible, that a girl her age might be very well outfitted by the
7th grade.
“Look, girls,” Greg said. He wasn’t going to try to intimidate
them. That obviously only excited them to take greater liberties with
his temper. He was going to be calm and cool and get these two cherry
bombs ‘signed off,’ as they say in the trade of groupies and grubbing
boys who think once they’ve managed to meet a star they can take him
home and keep him (or at least dominate the next hour and a half of his
life). “What did you do, travel miles and miles to meet me?” Greg
asked. “I appreciate that. And you’re probably skipping school to do
it. And you’ll probably get in trouble when you get back.” He eyed
their skirts. “Especially for making your skirts as short as you have.
But I’ve got to be on my way, okay? Show me your pads and give me a pen
and I’ll sign my name for you.”
“Oh, we weren’t hoping you’d sign with a pen,” the blonde said
in a rather gushy voice, getting visibly excited. But the brunette kept
her cool.
“What else could I sign with?” Greg asked in a voice that
sounded rather like a snarl. These two were getting on his nerves.
“Well, there’s something else which does put out fluid,” the
brunette smirked. Greg couldn’t believe that. Were these girls here to
worship him or to make fun of him? The brunette reached out her hand
and, swishing back her long hair again, making it seem like an accident,
she brushed her hand across his cock.
This was not a painless maneuver for Greg. He’d been
stiffening in his jockstrap from the moment he’d first seen the girls
(thinking them older), and now, as this damnable brunette actually
touched him, touched him there, his cock popped a massive boner that
made him think he was going to split his jock strap. Of course his
strap was tight and made to keep him well down, not to permit him the
freedom of an erection. So this little brunette with her newly grown
bosoms, which she liked so much to flaunt, had suddenly put Greg into a
painful state of erection inside his tight football pants and his even
tighter jock strap.
“God damn!” Greg said. He was forced, right in front of these
two young waifs, to reach down and adjust his jockstrap.
“Ohhh, your pants really look too tight,” the blonde said,
apparently with honest intent, for her eyes were large and innocent as
she spoke. But the brunette, with her equally large eyes, continued to
regard Greg with a malicious air, enjoying putting him into a cocked-up
state in his pants and laughing, it seemed, at the condition he was now
in.
Greg figured it was time to give in to these girls and just be
totally blunt and direct. “Okay, you win, girls,” he said. “What do
you want me to do, take out my dick and write with it, right here, with
the coach waiting for me and the guys wondering where I am and about to
come looking for me? Should I just drop my pants and take off my jock
strap and just produce my erection for you, and write on your little
pads for you?”
“We forgot our pads,” the brunette said. She wriggled and her
bosoms shook. “We don’t need them.”
“Could you?” the blonde giggled. “Could you write it right on
our bellies?” She lifted her shirt, a starched, buttoned white uniform
shirt, and showed Greg her small little navel. Greg frowned. The
blonde apparently didn’t have the best grasp of the male anatomy.
Apparently she believed he was possessed of some quick-drying seed, like
a pen was, and that he could simply ejaculate his signature onto her
stomach and it would instantly dry and she could take it back to her
school and show it to all the girls.
The brunette, Greg guessed, was a little more knowledgeable.
She eyed him from the height of his chest but her shortness did little
to deter her. “We don’t want your autograph,” the brunette said. She
looked down at Greg’s bulging groin and then back up at him. “We want
to torture you. We want to torture... your cock.”
What in God’s name was this, Greg asked himself. He knew girls
of today were more forward than in his time, when he lorded himself over
his junior high, long ago, using girls up like kleenexes. But what in
God’s name was this? Some girl, no more than 13, with her hymen
probably still intact, telling him she wanted to torture his cock?
Senator Exon was right. These girls were reading too much crap on the
Net and it was high time they went back to doing the the three R’s.
Reading (well... not that one), writing (well... not to Men on the Net)
and ‘rithmatic. Yes, that one seemed okay. Unless they were doing the
math simply to check up on the abilities of the Pentium in their
computer so it wouldn’t fuck up their chat messages and their e-mail.
Greg bent forward a little. He put his hands on his hips and
he looked down at the brunette. He scowled. He felt like taking this
little impish brunette and putting her apple-round ass over his knee and
paddling it. “So you want to torture my cock, do you?” He asked. The
brunette shivered but seemed excited by his question, by his scowl.
“Yes, I do,” she laughed. Still she had the luminous eyes with
the fire of Hell in them, Greg mused. Even now, with him twice her size
and feigning that he was thinking of snapping her small frame in two.
Gulping slightly, the brunette reached out and touched the zipper on his
football pants. And then, quite deliberately, never mind that they were
standing in the middle of the hall, the girl actually tugged on his
zipper. He was unzipped. Not all the way, just halfway. The brunette
looked up from his zipper at him.
Greg felt himself in the clutches of Satan’s daughter. He
could feel a gasp coming from somewhere within the bellows of his
chest. He was possessed with this girl, suddenly. A moment ago she’d
just been somebody’s child. Somebody’s young teen. A girl he was
trying to get rid of as fast as possible. Yet now he felt he couldn’t
leave her. No. That wasn’t possible anymore. If he walked away now,
she would haunt his mind. Most girls lingered in the stands, watching
the players, but somehow he knew if he walked away at this moment she
wouldn’t grant him that favor. The blonde might, but not this
wicked-eyed brunette. She’d disappear and he’d never see her again but
he’d always be thinking about her. He’d never seen such a small,
diminutive, young girl with such a well-possessed manner. She was like
some kind of wicked poison, brewed by his ex-wife and sent to haunt his
nights just as he was sure his philandering had left her lying haunted
and bereft in the marriage bed in their home.
Was this his penalty? Greg asked himself. To suddenly find
himself tortured by some cherry-bomb waif? He found himself in a
quandary. If he left, walked away, he’d see her forever, in his mind,
and want her, and her eyes would be laughing at him, saying, “Yes, Greg,
you missed the best. I may have been only 13, but you missed the best
dish of your life, and let some other more worthy man have me.” Yet, if
he accepted her, if he didn’t get her damn little fingers of his zipper,
she’d promised him she’d “torture his cock.” That phrase, revolting as
it seemed at first, began to itch at him. He’d always had females
falling all over him to please him. What did this small child mean,
she’d ‘torture his cock?’ What, like in the inquisition or something?
Was she some high priestess of Witchery? Some wayward Nun? Greg felt
himself tremble a little as he regarded her. She looked up at him. And
then, again quite deliberately, the girl unzipped his pants the rest of
the way.
“I do hope I’m permitted into your locker room today, you
swine,” Greg heard from behind him. Instantly he knew who it was. The
damnable reporter from The Sporting Herald, who insisted that, even
though she was a woman, she had every right to be in the men’s locker
room, just as any male reporter was. Greg grabbed at his crotch and
yanked up his zipper. Unfortunately in his haste he failed to check
that his jock-strapped cock was completely inside his fly-hole. The
zipper his a portion of his cock which had managed to bulge thru the
hole and Greg let out a howl as the zipper bit into his manhood.
“Ooooch!” Greg said in a voice that sounded like a male
belching. With his hands still on his fly, he turned around.
“Meeting your fans?” the woman reporter asked. Greg gritted
his teeth.
“They’re not MY fans,” he said sternly. How dare she imply
that his fans were sex-kitten girls barely out of primary school?
“Mind if I go in your locker room now that there are no men in
it?” the reporter asked.
“I guess not,” Greg answered. “I’m not in charge of locker
room policy,” he said.
“Perhaps, if I can’t interview you men directly, I can at least
sniff out your strategy for this weekend’s game,” the reporter said.
“I’m sure you can,” Greg replied.
“Ohhh, can we go in too?” the blonde 12-year-old asked.
“No, little girls aren’t permitted in a men’s locker room,” the
reporter answered. Then she turned and, with a sly backward cock of her
head, added, “Enjoy your fans, Cooker.”
She didn’t say it. She wouldn’t, in front of the two little
girls. But Greg knew she was saying it, although being discreet in
doing so. ‘Enjoy your fans, Cocker,’ that’s what she really meant. As
if he was some kind of child molester. Well, he wasn’t. He’d whisk
these two girls away and then he’d be out on the field, running,
tackling, showing the other guys what the word ‘dirt’ really meant. And
what it tasted like, too.
Greg turned around. The girls were gone. He experienced a
sudden sense of loss, like falling out of an airplane with no
parachute. He was shocked that he did. Yet, he did, there was no
question about it. Where had they gone? That lusciously gushy blonde
and her compatriot, the devilish brunette? How could they disappear so
fast? Well, Greg reminded himself, they were children. Kids could
disappear pretty fast. He frowned at himself for wishing they hand’t
left and yet now he was free, wasn’t he? He’d told himself he wanted to
be rid of them and yet now, already, he could see that dazzling
brunette, in his mind, talking to one of his teammates, or perhaps,
even, to some player from the incoming team that they’d play against
this weekend. Tweaking his zipper, telling him her tall tales of how
she desired to torture his cock.
“No,” Greg said aloud to himself. That damn girl wasn’t going
to cuckold him like that. He’d seen her before any of the other guys
and he wasn’t going to allow himself to be humiliated like that. He’d
been a nerd in elementary school. It was only in junior high that he’d
flowered. His uncle had taught him how to lift weights and then his
body had kicked in, giving him hormones, and suddenly he’d gone from
being a runt to being a God. But he still remembered how, in grade
school, the other boys had gotten the better of him and the girls had
passed him by. It had left a mark on him. A mark he’d assauged perhaps
to well, by laying every girl he could, to the point of wrecking his
marriage with his wife. Now, it seemed, the circle had closed, and that
damn brunette had been sent by some wicked Goddess, some skein-weaving
Fate, to destroy him no matter which way he turned.
“Oh, Greg,” he heard. He was advancing down the hall and now
he stopped. He turned around. It was the brunette. “Ready to have
your cock tortured?” she asked him.
Greg stared at the girl. The blonde, soft and nubile, seemed
to float beside her, like some angel who might rescue him at the last
moment. The brunette stared back. Her eyes were like dark sapphires
and he knew she’d gotten her talons into him. Without even touching
him, except on his zipper. She’d won. He’d lost his ability to resist
her. If he walked away, she’d cuckold him. If he stayed, he was
expected to produce his penis for her.
Greg walked toward the girls, hoping to intimidate them. But
they held their ground. He decided to deal with the brunette bluntly
again. Perhaps that would shatter this awful web he was finding himself
descending into.
“Where do you want to torture me?” Greg asked. “My cock, I
mean. Do you want to torture it right here, in the hall?” The brunette
smiled. She reached for his big arm with both of hers and she found his
hand. Lightly she pulled upon it and, like putty, like some kind of big
Gumby, Greg let his arm be tugged forward by her little hands.
“Come along,” the brunette smiled up at Greg. She said nothing
else. She turned, the blonde turned. The blonde took Greg’s other
hand.
“Whew! It STINKS in there!” Greg heard the woman reporter
hollar, emerging from the Men’s Locker Room, but Greg was already around
the corner of the hall, being led by the girls out to the parking lot.
Greg found himself in a medical building, in one of the rooms
upstairs, and he’d agreed to undress and he was now sitting, wrapped in
just a towel, on the edge of a gynecological table. Tabitha’s dad was a
doctor. He apparently was going to be her first patient. Greg mused
over the girl’s name. Tabitha. That was an excellent name for the damn
little brunette. She was indeed like something straight out of
Bewitched. And the blonde wasn’t badly named either. Gwen. Her name
reminded him of the good witch in the wizard of Oz, although he couldn’t
remember exactly if that indeed had been the witch’s name. Sugar and
Spice would have been good names too, Greg mused, straight out of Batman
Forever, one girl good, the other bad, one naughty, the other nice.
The nice one appeared first. She walked into the examining
room wearing just her bra and her too-short schoolgirl’s dress, plus her
bobby socks and shoes. She had barrettes in her hair and she had pinned
on a nurse’s cap. She was holding a tablet, but Greg doubted that
putting his name on it for her would get him out of the jam he now found
himself in. His cock was too stiff for that. It was sticking up from
between his legs and jutting into his towel, lifting it, showing itself
despite his attempts to keep himself modest in front of these girls.
“Is this topless day at the doctor’s offic?” Greg asked wryly.
He was in the clutches of these vixens now and he figured he may as well
try to have a sense of humor about his situation. If anybody found him
with them, it would be curtains for him. Off the playing field and into
the prison yard. The building was stuffed with people. He’d gotten an
odd look coming in, not because of his football uniform (players did get
injured sometimes) but because his two companions were so young.
Catholic schoolgirls weren’t usually the sorts of people who accompanied
a football player with a torn tendon to the hospital.
Yet now, tucked away in the middle of the building, in a suite
of offices Tabitha’s dad leased, they were safe, for the moment. Her
dad had gone to a medical conference and, rather than pay his staff to
loaf while he was gone, he closed the place. Greg wondered what he’d
think if he knew his daughter had reopened it, with herself and her
friend as the nurses.
“Hmmm, and what seems to be ailing you today, Sir?” Gwen asked
Greg. Then she eyed his stiff cock prodding at the underside of his
towel. “Oh, I see. Cockitis. Yes, that’s a terrible affliction in
young men.” The girl began writing on her pad. Greg watched her hand
move fluidly across the pad. Her breasts, captive in her bra, but with
much of her tit flesh showing, for the cups seemed to have been outgrown
by them, jiggled. Greg looked at her belly where she’d asked him to
write his name with his sperm. He wondered if the panties she wore
underneath her short skirt were white like her bra was.
Tabitha entered the room. She had removed her blouse too, and
wore a slinky black bra that obviously had come from a lingerie store.
It hadn’t been outgrown. There was hardly anthing to outgrow. It
barely contained Tabby’s tits and it was made of a soft chiffon thru
which Greg could see her pink nipples. Tabby had tied her hair back in
a pony tail. As she padded into the room, her heels clicking, her hair
flouncily bouncing in a tail in back of her, her chest juddered with
eye-popping appeal.
Suddenly, with a sinking feeling, Greg realized both girls were
virgins. Only virgins would put on this kind of an elaborate show.
They were hiding their fear of sex, disguising it behind tales of cock
torture and wicked little-girl plans to open up Daddy’s medical suite
and trap a big football player in it.
And he’d fallen for it. These two knew no more about real sex
than some nerd who jacked off to Mayfair and posted on alt.sex.stories.
“Cockitis?” What kind of ‘affliction’ was that? But he had to hand it
to them, these two cherry bombs were creative. Look at them! Both in
nurses caps, both with stethescopes dangling down between their boobs.
But what he’d figured would be a quick fuck with two experienced girls
was rapidly turning into some kind of weird game, with himself and his
dick at the center of it.
Greg cleared his throat. He didn’t really want to get any
deeper into the shit with these girls. At first he’d been sure they
were virgins, and tried to shoo them away. Then he’d decided, what with
cable T.V. and MTV and all, they were probably not virgins, and just
wanted a quick poke, and what the Hell, better him than some rival of
his. He didn’t go in for little girls at all but he didn’t want some
dude entertaining these two while they smirked at him, from a distance,
letting him know he’d let such a luscious pair get away and now he could
never have them. He figured, ‘okay, fuck them. then I can say I’ve had
them. I’ll see them with some other guy, maybe, but so what? I’ve done
them already. Or, probably, when I get done fucking them, they’ll be so
blown away that they’ll go back wherever they came from and I won’t need
to think about them anymore.’
But now Greg realized both these girls were total cherries and
the idea of quickly dropping their dresses and plying his rod with their
hands and getting him up inside themselves was something they weren’t
familiar with. The ‘Gas Up and Go’ strategy wasn’t going to work here.
Both of them were probably a little scared of the thought of getting
laid and so they were going to draw the whole thing out, and tease him,
and maybe he’d never get anything from them, maybe they’d just torture
his cock, like Tabitha said they would, and then leave him lying here,
to be found by the cleaning lady.
Greg swallowed hard. He resolved to speak up and tell these
girls that they’d better both drop their skirts and accept him now, if
they wanted him, or let him leave, if they didn’t. He glanced at the
room where he’d left his clothes. Had Tabitha locked that door after
he’d stepped out? It was a dressing room, accessible however from two
sides. This side, where the exam room was, and the other side, which
was the doctor’s office space. Had the damn little bitch locked his
clothes up? He’d have to demand she unlock the room so he could dress
and leave.
“Tabitha,” Greg said.
“Please don’t disturb me when I’m reading your chart, Gregory,”
Tabitha said in a soft, reserved voice. She bent over the shoulder of
her blonde friend and looked with interest at what Gwen had written.
Greg found his heart beating fast. This was so strange! Two
little virgins, both scared of sex, and so playing this curious game
with him and his cock!
“Hmmm, do you really think it’s ‘Cockitis?’” Tabby asked Gwen.
“Well, just look at him, ma’am,” Gwen said. She pointed her
pencil at Greg’s loins. Sure enough, Greg’s big penis was like a rod of
iron under his towel, lifting it up like a tent.
“Hmmm, that will require extensive treatment, I’m afriad,” Dr.
Tabby answered. She put a finger to her lips and thrust out her hips.
Her skirt swished on her hips, forward, then back. Greg realized she’d
traded her schoolgirl shoes and socks for long black stockings and
heels. Yes, high heels. He’d heard them clicking as she came in but it
hadn’t quite registered with him. She’d really put some thought into
this! Good God, lingerie on a 13-year-old, plus heels. Greg wished
Victoria’s Secret wouldn’t sell to such young girls. But, he had to
admit, she had a chest most women would be proud of. If the bra fits,
wear it.
“Yes, see?” Gwen said, pointing. “It just sticks right up.
Nothing he can do about it.”
“Have you asked him?” Tabitha said.
“Well, no,” Gwen answered. Gwen, at least, Greg saw, was
dressed in her schoolgirl bra, though she’d obviously outgrown it. And
she wore her school socks and shoes. He valued her modesty. A
12-year-old in lingerie was more than even he, in his rapidly perverting
state, could stomach.
“Well you must *examine* the patient, Nurse!” Tabitha
declared. “Don’t just write down stuff on your pad by looking at him.”
“I’m sorry,” Gwen answered.
“Here’s let’s see for ourselves,” Tabitha said. She strode up
to Greg and every fiber of his being screamed. Could he really let two
junior high girls at him? The moment was here. It was no longer
theory. No longer a manly monologue inside his head of how he’d get
their panties down quick and give them a fuck and be gone, to boast
about them to a rival, if he had to, to preserve his status. ‘Sure I
had them too, I had them before you, they were okay, too young but
okay. If you’re a creep you can keep them, but remember I had them
first,’ he’d say. And he’d do the girls quick, yes. Quick, before he
could feel guilty about it.
Slowly Tabitha lifted his towel. She held it very lightly by
the tips of her fingers and Greg noticed her nails were well polished,
although Gwen’s polished nails had flecked a little, like the
fingernails of a little girl who gets into mom’s nail polish and then
goes out and swings in a tree.
Greg’s pulsing rod appeared from under his towel. Tabitha
gasped. It seemed to be even bigger than her dreams had imagined. Gwen
drew close to see and then hopped back, as if startled.
Tabitha gazed at Greg’s dick in wonder and then, as if
recovering herself at last, she flung his towel back. The tie Greg had
made with the towel along the side of his waist was broken and the
towel, which was pink, was cast off him as if unsuited for him. Greg
found himself sitting naked on the exam table, which was a gynecological
table, with his dick upright and pulsing, naked as he himself was, ready
for action.
Yet Greg did not control the action. He really didn’t dare, in
the end. After all, the girls were both obviously virgins. They’d just
seen their first penis. His. Perhaps, Greg told himself, that was
enough. He could dress and leave now. He’d brag to himself that,
forever after, these two would measure all other men’s penises against
his. And his was very impressive. Greg was certain of that. He was
probably the biggest on his team and some had said he was the biggest in
the whole League, but he knew that couldn’t be true. There were some
black players in the League who surely surpassed him in size.
Tabitha straightened up and assumed an officious air. “I’m
afraid we’re going to have to give him a male GYN exam,” Tabitha told
Gwen. Gwen scribbled quickly on her pad, making her breasts wiggle in
their cups.
“There is no such thing as a male GYN exam,” Greg said.
“Please don’t speak unless you’re asked to, Mr. Cock,” Tabitha
said to Greg. “It’s most distressing to my chain of thought.” Tabitha
glanced down at Greg’s stiffly presented penis, then looked away, as if
thinking. “Yes,” she continued. “We’ll need a complete examination of
his reproductive system. Particularly of the organ.” She gave his cock
a sidelong glance. Gwen scribbled merrily, as if taking notes, although
Greg suspected she was just doodling.
“Mr. Cock,” Tabitha said. She turned and faced Greg but,
rather than looking him in the face, she gazed instead at his
‘ailment.’ As if his ‘medical condition’ was he himself. Rather like
the doctor who addresses the patient while gazing at the patient’s set
leg, after a break, gazing at the cast and saying, “Now don’t put it in
water, don’t walk on it, I’ll see you back here in three weeks.” Except
Greg had no problems with his penis, and his doctor was a 13-year-old
girl wearing lingerie. “You’ll please lie back on our GYN table for
your examination, Mr. Cock,” Tabitha said to Greg. “Please just lie
back and relax and make yourself as comfortable as you can. The
procedure will take a while, I’m afraid, and I can’t promise it won’t
hurt, but when we’re finished here today you shouldn’t have that
stiffness anymore that you’re obviously suffering from.”
“No, I don’t think I would,” Greg answered. “I don’t think I
would at all.” Just a long term in prison to think about it all. But
he was in deep already, he figured, too deep, yes, too damn deep! And
that’s how far he wanted to put his cock into that damnable Tabitha,
too. He’d show her what a Man could really do with a weapon like this.
And he would have, too, but she was so young and small, except for her
breasts, that he laid back instead, onto the cold hard plastic table.
Greg felt the white paper sheet under his back. Yes, the girls
had picked a wonderful place for two virgins to explore a man without
committing themselves. What a plot! Here he was, a big strapping
football player, and yet it wasn’t them who were flat on their backs,
but himself!
“Please open your legs, Sir,” Tabitha said with easy grace to
Greg. He felt her small fingers on his ankle and he Gwen bend over his
other foot and her breasts, overflowing in her outgrown bra cups,
brushed lightly against his hairy foot. Satin against hairy sandpaper.
Greg let the two little waifs open his legs and spread them and he heard
them gasp as his big bulging balls were presented in all their glory.
Every other patient who’d ever laid down on this table had exposed just
a slit, but Greg was a man, and his reproductive equipment was quite
large and incongruous on this table made for women.
Greg felt his feet fitted into the table’s stirrups. They were
large for the stirrups but they just fit, and he felt the girls wrap the
straps attached to the stirrups around his feet and buckle them in.
When they were finished, Greg tried to lift his feet and found he
couldn’t. Both girls bent and kissed his feet and Tabitha said,
“Try to relax, Mr. Cock. This is for your own good.”
“He has smelly feet. Should I write that down to?” Gwen asked
Tabitha.
“All men have stinky feet,” Tabitha replied. “It’s his organ
I’m worried about. How can something stick up like that?”
“I don’t know,” Gwen answered, in a voice that sounded like
honest amazement. Greg eyed the girl over his hairy chest and saw she
was sucking the tip of her pencil.
“Now let’s do his chest, and then his arms,” Tabith said.
“What?” Greg asked. It was bad enough he was lying here
totally naked, with his dick standing up, and his feet buckled into
stirrups made for a woman. He wasn’t about to have himself strapped
down to the point where he was actually their prisoner!
Greg felt a soft hand descend to his belly, just missing his
cock. It tugged at his pubic hairs and then ran up to his navel,
explored it a moment, and then passed up over his chest, feeling his
muscles there. A sot kiss came to his cheek. It was Tabitha.
“I’ve helped my dad out with local anesthetics before,” she
told Greg. “Giving them to patients. But I’d hate to immobalize such a
cool dude as you. Would you please put your hands up above your head so
I can strap them down? There’s no needle with a strap, and you can move
your arms immediately the moment I release them.” She kissed him again,
almost imploringly. Greg knew neither girl stood a chance of tying him
down unless he allowed it.
Greg threw his arms over his head and let out a giant sigh.
This was too much. He thought he’d conquered the Himalayas of sex,
laying Playmates even, but these two little cherries were more than
anything he’d ever imagined. Would he mind putting his hands over his
head, unless he’d prefer a local? What nonsense! And lying on a GYN
table, with his balls on display? The guys in the locker room would
laugh their heads off if they heard that. That was nothing to brag
about. But Tabitha was so alluring, in her innocence combined with
wickedness, that Greg found he coulnd’t resist. And so he laid his arms
up over his head.
Tabitha and Gwen set to work tying Greg’s arms. Although Tabby
had spoken of straps, in fact they used rubber tubing, tying Greg’s
wrists to the metal bars along the side of the table. They tied his
arms at the very ends of each bar, then ran tubing from one wrist across
to the other to secure each wrist to the other, to keep Greg from
sliding his bound wrists down the metal bars.
As Greg was tied he felt his cock throbbing between his legs.
The girls were right. Only ‘Cockitis’ would ever put a man in this
position. Greg was desperate to cum yet these girls were virgins, and
he was twice their age, and he wasn’t about to force them to him. Even
if he’d succeeded in the ‘quick fuck’ strategy it would have had to be
consensual. He didn’t believe in just yanking some 12-year-old’s
panties down and fucking her against her will. Yet the ‘quick fuck’
strategy hadn’t materialized. Not willing to rape them, and too stiff
to leave, Greg had let them tie him down to the GYN table instead.
When Greg was tied at both ends the girls lifted a heavy
belt-like leather strap from underneath the table and laid it across his
chest. They buckled it and Greg found he was unable to move. Only his
cock could move, and it throbbed mightily, wishing to spend. It stuck
up at the ceiling and Greg could only stare at it now. It was in the
hands of two junior high girls who had little idea, he feared, what to
do with it.
“Temperature time, Mr. Cock!” Gwen said. Happily she pushed a
thermometer into Greg’s mouth.
“Not there, silly,” Tabitha said. “We’re not operating on his
mouth today.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gwen said. She blushed. “I was kinda scared to
touch it,” she admitted. She removed the thermometer from Greg’s mouth
and walked down to the middle of the table. She leaned over his waist.
“What are you doing?” Greg asked.
Gwen popped the thermometer, wet with Greg’s saliva, into his
penis. There was a big red ball on the end of it to keep it from being
swallowed up inside his cock.
“She’s taking the temperature of your penis,” Tabitha said to
Greg. “Please be quiet so I can arrange my surgical instruments
properly.”
Greg looked over at Tabitha. The girl had wheeled a small
table out from a corner of the room. Atop it was a shiny steel box.
Tabitha guided the table to Greg’s waist and opened it. Greg saw the
gleam of surgical equipment inside.
“He does have a big penis,” Gwen mused, waiting while her
thermometer registered Greg’s temperature.
“Do you think there’s too much of him?” Tabitha asked. She
lifted a scalpel from the box.
“Yes, I do,” Gwen answered. “He’s so big and it’s obviously
giving him problems.” She looked at Tabitha. “You remember how he kept
having to adjust his jock strap.”
“Hmmmm,” Tabitha said. “Well, we’ll just have to see. First,
though, we must give him a little shot.
“Okay,” Gwen said. She turned, leaving the thermometer
sticking up out of Greg’s dick, kept from sliding all the way down into
him only by the presence of the red ball at the end of it. Gwen walked
over to a formica countertop against the wall. Greg watched her bottom
as she walked. Her skirt swished behind her, lifting just enough to
give him a glimpse of her panties. They were white. Schoolgirl
panties. What a way for two girls to play hookey. He wished he could
bend them both over a desk and cane them for being truants.
“I like this one best,” Tabitha said. She lifted a big cleaver
from within the steel box. Greg guessed she, or someone with a sense of
humor had secreted it there. It was a big kitchen knife. It had no
place in a box of precision surgical equipment. Tabitha pranced over to
Greg’s loins and placed the edge of the knife right against his dick.
Against the shaft, about halfway between the head of his penis and the
base. Lightly she stroked his shaft with the kitchen knife and Greg
shuddered. The feel was sensual. He’d never imagined a knife could
feel that way. Was it the fear, he wondered, or the shapliness of the
little lass who was weilding it. The knife touched his sensitive organ
and Tabitha giggled and said he should be ‘cut down to size.’
“Is this the shot for him?” Gwen asked Tabitha.
“Yes,” Tabitha said, looking up from Greg’s cock. She still
held the knife against him and he hoped she didn’t drop it. His balls
didn’t need any holes poked into them. “That’s Solumedrol,” she
explained. “I want you to stick it right in the vein of his arm, right
in the inside of his elbow. It will put him on edge, make him even more
virile than he already is.” She smiled at Greg. “We’ve got to see how
huge you get when you’re in an extreme state of arousal. Then we can
decide if any of you needs to be lopped off.”
“Girls,” Greg said. “I don’t want a shot. I don’t need a
shot. Untie me and let me get up!”
“Please, I haven’t done this before,” Gwen said to Greg. “Keep
your arm still.”
“She’s only practised at my house, on a dummy,” Tabitha said to
Greg. “But she did good on the dummy and you’re sort of a dummy, for
letting us tie you down, so hopefully she’ll get your vein on the first
stick.”
Greg groaned. He was forced to hold his arm still for a shot
he didn’t even want. And which he hardly needed. His dick felt like it
was going to explode! Here he was, lying without permission on some
doctor’s exam table, on a GYN table no less, and playing with the
doctor’s daughter. Of course she wasn’t 18, or 22, but 13, and decked
out in black lingerie. And of course, the girl trying to jab a needle
into his arm wasn’t a nurse, just dressed like one. She was barely out
of elementary school, and still had her schoolgirl dress on, although
she’d shortened it to the point that her panties showed when she walked.
“Ouch!” Greg said. His mind hadn’t really registered the
alcohol pad that Gwen had prepared his arm with but it most certainly
registered the needle.
“Tch! Such a big guy like you, complaining over a little
needle,” Tabitha scolded. She continued to scrape at Greg’s dick with
her knife.
“I got it!” Gwen announced. Slowly she squeezed the Solumedrol
into Greg’s vein. Greg felt a flush come over him. And then,
gradually, after the needle had been withdrawn and Gwen had given his
arm a second wipe, he felt his penis grow increasingly agitated. He
really needed to cum now! He ground his teeth and, even though Tabitha
held a knife right against his cock, the sharp edge touching his skin,
Greg twisted his hips. He was hard, so hard, and he needed to shoot his
load very badly.
Of course, with the girls being cherries, that wasn’t exactly
what they had in mind. Instead they wanted to play with him and explore
him. Gwen asked Tabitha something (Greg was no longer listening, his
cock was the focus of his thoughts now) and then she pranced back to the
counter. A moment later she returned. She held a small powder blue
pill in her fingers. And a cup of water to wash it down with.
“This is... how do you pronounce it?” Gwen asked Tabitha.
“Zaroxolyn,” Tabitha said, still slicing very lightly at the
sensitive skin of Greg’s hugely bloated organ.
“Zar... whatever,” Gwen said. “It will help you go to the
bathroom.”
“I don’t need any help going to the bathroom!” Greg said. He
needed to cum, dammit, and these two little cherry vixens weren’t even
thinking of that.
Gwen pushed Greg’s lips apart and, though he tried to keep his
teeth together, she finally persuaded him, with a kiss on his cheek, to
open his mouth. She popped in the pill.
“We need to take a urine sample,” Gwen told Greg in a serious
voice. “This will help you pee out of your penis.” She tilted the cup
and Greg felt cold water splash over his face. Some of it went in his
mouth and he swallowed the pill.
“Do you think he needs Castor Oil too?” Gwen asked Tabitha.
“No, I don’t want him shitting on my dad’s table,” Tabitha
answered. “The cleaning lady would wonder if she came in and saw shit
on a table in an exam room that’s supposedly locked up for the week.”
Tabitha looked up and smiled. “However, if there’s a few sperm stains
on the white paper I imagine they’ll just blend in,” she said.
Greg was oozing precum out of the tip of his penis despite the
thermometer jammed down into it. He trembled.
“Don’t move, dear,” Tabitha warned him. “I’m measuring your
dick with the knife in case I have to cut any of it off.”
“Tabby,” Greg groaned. This was definitely a ‘pay now or pay
later’ girl. He could fuck her, or live to see his rivals have her
instead. He could move now, and be cut, or not move and be cut later.
“Yes, Mr. Cock?” Tabitha asked quite sweetly. Apparently she
was pleased that he’d been so cooperative with his plans. She’d gotten
to play with her cleaver, and her surgical kit, and give him shots and
take his temp. Greg hoped she was running out of ideas.
“I...” Greg didn’t know what to say. Finally decided to fake
needing to pee. “I have to go to the bathroom. Can I get up and go?”
“Tch, of course not,” Tabitha said. “Not after me and Gwen did
all that work tying you down. We still have to ride you, after all.”
“Ride me?” Greg asked.
“Yes, like riding a horse,” Gwen explained in an anxious
voice. “Except we’ll be sitting, well, where THAT thing is,” she said.
She pointed rather nervously at Greg’s huge, stemming erection.
“And we’re wondering if you’re too big for us,” Tabitha added,
scraping the knife across Greg’s cock again.
“That wouldn’t help, believe me,” Greg said.
“We’ve both been on the Pill for a week in anticipation of it,”
Gwen told him. “We saw your photo in the paper, winning last weekend’s
game, and decided you were the one to... you know... to get us laid and
stuff.”
“But we think it’s best to tie you down for it. Too many girls
I’ve talked to didn’t like their first time, because the guy was too
fast, and too much thinking about himself,” Tabitha said. “But you’ll
have plenty of time to think, Greg dear. And to pee, too. Gwen, get
him a cup. He needs to pee!”
“Ohkay,” Gwen said with a small, heartfelt sigh. She pranced
over to the countertop and rummaged around in a drawer for a pee cup.
She found one, broke it out of its plastic wrapping, and returned. “Oh,
yeah. I forgot to take the thermometer out,” Gwen said. She stood on
tiptoe and reached over Greg’s waist. Her fingers rose to the top of
his penis and she tugged on the bright red ball. “Ooops! I think it’s
stuck,” Gwen said. Then she pulled again and the thermometer came
rising up out of Greg’s penis, slick with his pre-cum. “No, it’s not
stuck,” Gwen said. “Hmmm, I wonder what his temperature is, though?”
She got the thermometer free of Greg’s urethra and drew it close to her
eyes. She stared at it intently.
“Tabby, I mean, Dr. Tabitha, do you know how to read a
thermometer?” Gwen asked her friend.
“No, Dad always just has me stick that gun-thing in the
patients’ ears,” Tabitha replied.
“Oh well, you’ve got a good temperature, I’m sure,” Gwen told
Greg. She shook the thermometer. Then she flounced back over to the
formica counter and laid it beside the sink. Greg watched her as she
walked. Again the wriggling of her bottom made her skirt flip up and
show him her virginal panties. How he wished to yank those down! The
Solumedrol was really beginning to take hold of him. If he weren’t tied
down he was sure he would rape her now, never mind that consensual
crap. She was small and lovely and so delicate, yet with a high-set,
pumpkin ripe bottom and delicious tits that jiggled in her too small
bra.
Tabitha was just as lovely. As if to drive Greg further
insane, she suddenly placed the knife on Greg’s stomach, the point
aiming at his penis, and reached behind her back. She unsnapped her
bra. Greg gasped as she popped her bra cups from her tits and exposed
her bosoms. They were young, lovely, uptitled cones of white flesh.
Atop each one grew a perfect cherry nipple. Each was hard, despite the
soft jiggling of her bosoms.
“Oh, shall we go topless?” Gwen asked. She reached behind
herself and, while maintaining a look of complete innocence, unsnapped
her bra. Her cups, too small for her newly grown tits, came off her
bosoms like caps blown from twin heads in a gust of wind. Pop! Pop!
Went each bra cup, and Greg was left with a mouth-watering sight of the
young girl’s newly grown breasts. Again they were white, again they
quivered with soft fleshiness, but each had a perfectly hard little
nipple stem at its tip.
Gwen saw Greg gazing at her and blushed. “I’ve never shown my
tits to a guy before,” she admitted.
“I showed mine to the boy down the street,” Tabitha said.
“Who?” Gwen asked.
“Dalton,” Tabby replied.
“Oh, him. He visits the Hustler web site and tells me he knows
more about my body than I do,” Gwen said. “But I don’t think he does.
I mean, if he’s just staring at photos...”
“I know,” Tabby said. “He showed his dick to me. But then he
got excited and spurted his stuff all over my panties.” She smiled.
She looked at Greg. “So you get to take me instead.”
Gwen stood looking at Tabitha. “You mean you DID it with him?”
“No, I just *tried* to do it with him,” Tabitha said. “That’s
when I decided I needed a real man to do the job, not Dalton.”
“Oh, yes! Well I think we’ve found one,” Gwen said. She
looked at Greg. “And he’s all ours, too. Aren’t you Greg’wy?” The
girl’s voice took on an infantile air. She sidled up to him and poked a
finger into his face, into one of his nostrils. She kissed him again.
Clearly she was anxious about the prospect of riding him and sought
solace in pretending to be a small child. “Greg’wy, do you love me?”
she asked.
“No,” Greg gasped. “I’m just dying to fuck you.”
Gwen slapped Greg. He gasped again. His ears rang.
“He doesn’t love me!” Gwen told Tabitha.
“He’s a football player, silly,” Tabitha replied. She was
still entertaining herself by sliding a kitchen knife along Greg’s
cock. “Football players get lots of girls. Nonetheless, whether he
loves us or not, we’re both going to pop our cherries on him. And
you’re going first.”
“Waht?! I don’t want to go first,” Gwen said. Tabitha placed
her knife back into the tray of surgical gear. She walked around Greg’s
feet and over to Gwen. She reached out and grabbed hold of the hem of
Gwen’s skirt. Bending, she yanked it down.
“You’re going first!” Tabitha said to Gwen. Greg, meanwhile,
stared in abject admiration of the blonde’s bottom. It was as he’d
pictured it in his mind. She had a very narrow waist, with flaring hips
that shaped themselves into the loveliest, roundest pair of hind cheeks
he’d ever seen. Across them, stretched tight, themselves a little
small, just as her bra had been, were Gwen’s panties. They were white,
and caught in her ass crack a little, and he had no doubt in her pussy
lips too, for Gwen stood with her thighs almost crossed, and wiggling
her bottom anxiously as she argued with her friend.
“But I CAN’T go first,” Gwen said. “I’ve never had anything to
do with a boy, except playing post office. You’ve actually had Dalton
squirt his stuff on you.”
“That hardly separates us, my dear,” Tabitha said in a grown-up
voice. “You’re going to go riding on Greg if I have to whack your hiney
to make you!”
“Noooo!” Gwen cried. She tried to dash away from Tabitha but
her skirt was down around her knees and she fell. Tabitha pounced on
her like a cat. She yanked down Gwen’s panties, giving Greg a clear
view of the girl’s virgin white buttcheeks. Down came Tabitha’s hand,
and Greg winced as he saw it leave a bright red mark on the girl’s
bottom.
“Ow!” Gwen wailed.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! “You’re GOING to take him first,” Tabitha
said.
“No, I won’t!” Gwen hollared. “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”
Tabitha held still. She sat atop her friend, who lay sprawled
on the floor underneath her. Gwen’s feet were encirled by her skirt and
her knees were bound with her descended panties. Her lovely blonde hair
stuck out from her head on either side in twin pigtails. Her back was a
like the inside of a shell, sloping along in a concave expanse of smooth
flesh until it drew inward at her waist and then expanded again to form
the bulging cheeks of her now blushing bottom.
“Shhhh! Someone will hear you yelling!” Tabitha warned. There
was a sound of feet out beyond the door of the examining room. “I
thought you locked the front door to my dad’s office!” Tabitha said to
Gwen.
“Ooops,” Gwen said in a small voice.
“You mean you didn’t?” Tabitha asked.
“I forgot,” Gwen admitted.
SLAP! Indifferent now to the fate of the three of them upon
being discovered, Tabitha gave little Gwen another slap on her ass.
“Oooo!” Gwen yelped, but tried to suppress her yelp all the
same, for there were indeed feet just outside the exam room’s door.
“Maybe they won’t come--” Tabitha said, wishing she hadn’t
slapped her friend, for the feet were very close now. Suddenly, before
she could finish her whispered sentence the door opened.
“What th--?!” a woman’s voice asked. Greg’s head snapped from
his right side, where the two girls lay hidden behind the GYN table, to
his left, where in the door now stood one of the loveliest, most mature
women he’d ever seen. She had long dark hair and it was loosely piled
into a bun. She wore glasses, but they seemed to add to her allure as
she peered over them at Greg’s naked form on the exam table. She had a
white medical coat on but it was unable to suppress a view of her
sumptuous breasts, which stood up from her chest like ripe watermelons
waiting to be picked. She had on a blouse and, Greg guessed, a bra
underneath, but the blouse, like the coat, was decollette in front,
leaving an alluring expanse of tit flesh available to the eye.
“Hello Miss Dumpkins,” Tabitha’s voice piped up from behind the
exam table. Her head rose and she peered over the flat expanse of
Greg’s hairy belly.
“Hello Miss Dumpkins,” Gwen chimed. She couldn’t rise, Tabitha
being still over her, if not actually sitting on her anymore, and she
seemed rather resigned to her place on the floor.
“Tabitha? Gwen? What are you two doing here? The office is
closed this week,” Miss Dumpkins said in a voice laced with
astonishment. Yet, gazing at Greg, almost ignoring the girls as she
asked the question, she had a sensuous lisp to her words, for Greg was
all spread out before her and as naked as a jay, with his cock sticking
up like a steeple.
“Hello, Ms. Dumpkins, I’m-- pleased to make your acquaintance,”
Greg said in a halting voice.
“Why, aren’t you--?” Miss Dumpkins began. She pointed at Greg.
“Yes, I won last week’s game against the Rams,” Greg admitted.
“Greg Cook --er.”
“My, I’ve always wanted to meet you,” Miss Dumpkins said. A
man appeared behind her.
“What’s up, dear? Do you want to fuck in here?” He had just
gotten his last words out when he saw Greg.
“Good God, this is kinky! You want me and some other guy to do
you?”
“I-- I didn’t know he was here, darling,” Miss Dumpkins said,
turning to the man behind her. He was young, obviously a doctor,
wearing a white coat and with a stethescope.
“We’re studying the reproductive system,” Tabitha explained.
She stood up fully.
“The male reproductive system,” Gwen said from the floor.
“I-- I think you’ve chosen an excellent specimen for your
study,” Miss Dumpkins said.
“Hey, aren’t you--?” the doctor asked Greg.
“Yes, I’m Greg Cook. I won last week’s game agains the Rams,”
he said.
“I ought to kick your ass,” the man said to Greg.
“I know,” Greg admitted. He glanced at the two girls. Slowly
Gwen was getting up from the floor, her panties around her knees and her
skirt wrapped round her ankles.
“I bet on the Rams,” the doctor said. “Thanks to your damn
last minute touchdown I lost $500!”
“Oh,” Greg said. “We’ll you should have bet on me. The Cock,”
Greg said. He gave his penis a glance. Maybe he wouldn’t lose it with
this doctor and Miss Dumpkins here now.
“Cock of the Walk! That’s what the announcers all said, after
the game,” Miss Dumpkins exclaimed. “Yes, I liked that! But I didn’t
know they meant it so literally.” She gazed again at his cock.
“Well, I’m not small,” Greg admitted, looking down over the
hair of his chest at his penis. Then he looked at the doctor. “And I
do win. Bet $1,000 on me next time.”
“I will,” the doctor said. He approached Greg, Miss Dumpkins
on his arm. “I’m Doctor Johns,” he said. He extended his hand. Then,
with a small utter of “Oh,” he drew it back, seeing Greg’s hands had
been tied to the rungs running along the sides of the table.
Miss Dumpins, on the doctor’s arm, was coterminous with Greg’s
cock. She gazed at it with a mixture of wonderment and appreciation.
The doctor noticed, pulled her back a little from Greg.
Tabitha came round one end of the table and Gwen around the
other. Tabitha was still wearing her skirt but Gwen, kicking her skirt
off, was pulling up her panties.
“God, if I was a pervert I think I’d be in heaven,” the doctor
admitted, looking at the two girls.
“She spanked me, Miss Dumpkins!” Gwen said. She turned and,
with her panties pulled up to her slit in front but still under her
bottom in back, she showed Miss Dumpkins her well-slapped bottom. It
looked like a bowl of jiggly white cream, heart-shaped, with a split up
the middle. It had hand prints on it, visibly, red on the white flesh
of her ass.
“Well, you should both be spanked, for what you’ve done,” Miss
Dumpkins said. “Greg too, I imagine, but he’s rather indisposed at the
moment.” She gave an appreciative glance again at Greg’s cock. The
doctor gazed in wonderment at Gwen’s pretty bottom.
Suddenly, making a decision, Miss Dumpkins reached out and
grabbed Gwen’s arm. The doctor, sensing her decision, perhaps throwing
care to the wind, reached out and grabbed Tabitha.
Miss Dumpkins laughed. “I think I’ll spank you both, for what
you’ve done. What a pleasant entree it would be to an afternoon of
sex! And I don’t think, little Tabitha, that your father would scold me
too badly for doing it either, particularly since he sees me on the
nights his wife is too frigid for him!”
“Oh, I knew you were doing him!” Tabitha said. She seemed not
to mind the revelation, but she did mind the doctor holding her by her
arm.
“Don’t spank us, Miss Dumpkins!” Gwen cried. The dark-haired
woman was pushing the struggling girl ahead of her, still holding her
arm, pressing her at last up against the left leg extension on the exam
table. Gwen was flung over Greg’s left thigh. Her bosoms hung down
between his widely-spaced thighs, one of them brushing against his
testicles. Miss Dumpkins reached for surgical tubing the girls had left
on the floor. She bound Gwen’s wrists, outstretched, around the thigh
of Greg’s other leg.
Greg felt Tabitha’s tits plop onto his stomach as the doctor
laid her torso across him. Quickly the doctor pulled Tabby’s wrists out
in front of her and bound them to the railing on the far side of the
table with surgical tubing. Like Gwen, Tabitha was forced to stand on
tip-toe by the height of the table. The doctor took hold of Tabitha’s
skirt and lowered it with relish. The huddling cheeks of her bottom
were revealed. She wore black panties, matching her now discarded bra.
The doctor grabbed her panties and pulled them down. The white cheeks
of her bottom were displayed to his eye and, indirectly, to Greg’s, who
lay watching, his cock between the two struggling girls’ heads.
“Yes, aren’t they pretty?” Miss Dumpkins asked aloud. “Such
lovely tushies. And never caned, I’ll bet. Well we can change that.”
She lowered Gwen’s panties to the girl’s ankles and then left them
there. Gwen, perhaps feeling some humiliation in this, struggled to
lift the panties back up with her heels and finally, unable to do that,
stepped daintily out of them.
Tabitha’s skirt and panties coiled around her feet. Like Gwen
she seemed to decide having no clothes at all was better than having
them round one’s ankles, and she stepped, with a little difficulty, for
they were tangled within each other, out of the garments. Both girls
kicked up their nude white legs and begged to have their wrists
released.
“Not a chance,” Miss Dumpkins answered. “Don’t you agree,
doctor?”
“Indeed,” he said. “I’ve never seen two naughtier bottoms. Or
ones so young,” he added.
“Well I hope not,” Miss Dumpkins said. “I’d hate to think
you’re a child molester.”
“Hardly,” the doctor answered. “But I do know an opportunity
when I see one. Eh, Cook?”
“I’m just lying here,” Greg said truthfully.
“With that cock of yours sticking up as an inspiration to us
all,” Miss Dumpkins laughed. The doctor laughed. Even little Tabitha
and Gwen, stuck on either side of Greg, tied down, let out a laugh.
Then they watched with trepidation as Miss Dumpkins walked to a supply
closet.
“Believe it or not, Tabby, your dad likes to get his ass
flogged on nights when he’s not home,” Miss Dumpkins said to the girl.
She opened the door to the supply room and reached inside. She looked
back at the girl. “Did you know that?” she asked.
“No,” Tabitha admitted.
Miss Dumpkins drew a long thin cane from the darkness of the
closet. “Don’t worry, I won’t do you any harder than I do him,” she
said.
“Ohhhh, PLEASE don’t spank us, Miss Dumpkins!” Gwen begged.
Miss Dumpkins flexed her cane. “This, my dear, isn’t a
spanking thing, it’s a caning thing, and if the good doctor decided to
take his belt off, I might give you a whipping. Spankings are done with
the hand. This hurts much worse.”
“Ohhhh! My bottom already hurts!” Gwen said truthfully.
“I know, my dear, but not enough,” Miss Dumpkins said. She
reached up and unpinned her hair. To Greg’s suprise, he saw the doctor
take off his gown and hang it up on a clothes rack. Then Gwen took off
her coat and hung it next to his. Together they took a moment to
undress. The girls could only watch, gasping first as Miss Dumpins
showed them, for the first time, her boobs, then her ass and cunt, while
the doctor took off his shirt and pants. He proved to be no slouch when
it came to penis size and the girls found themselves all staring at his
dick with almost as much admiration as they displayed for Greg’s.
“Now this is going to hurt, girls, but I want you to think of
it as more than just discipline for trying Mr. Cook down and playing
with his penis,” Miss Dumpkins said to the two maidens. She walked
round behind them, still wearing heels, and black stockings, which were
matched by black stockings Tabitha wore. Neither female needed a garter
belt. The stockings on both were elasticized. They rose to the tops of
their thighs. Above their cunts showed lewdly and, behind, their
bottoms bulged brazenly. Miss Dumpkins flexed her cane again. She
swished it through the air, a practise stroke, hitting nothing, but the
doctor, approaching her, was forced to step back.
“There is pleasure in pain, girls, provided it’s properly
applied,” Miss Dumpkins said to her newfound pupils. “I want you both
to savor these strokes. It’s taken me months of practise, mostly on
your father, Tabitha, to perfect a stroke that stings without leaving a
welt on the bottom.” She turned to the doctor. “Doctor Johns, would
you please get some alcohol and a rag and wet down the girls’ bottoms
for me? It will accent the sting when I deliver the blows.”
“Sure,” Dr. Johns answered happily. Greg guessed that, as a
doctor, he felt he could be permitted greater liberties than most
people. Two nude girls were just two more patients, in his eyes, and he
was entitled to view them and work his will on them as medical science
or, at least, his own physical needs dictated. He didn’t seem to feel
the conflicted worries that Greg felt.
Both girls turned their faces toward each other. Their
childish breath breathed hotly across the stem of Greg’s penis.
“Oh, pelease don’t whip us,” Gwen said again, but her voice
sounded resigned now, for Miss Dumpkins was practising her stroke behind
the girl and each swish of the cane came closer to connecting with her
bare seat.
Doctor Johns returned with the alcolhol.
“Rub it in good,” Miss Dumpkins told him. “I want these girls
to feel a little remorseful when I’m through. They really shouldn’t be
in here fooling around with Tabby’s dad’s expensive medical equipment.
Or older men,” she added, looking at Greg.
Doctor Johns put a liberal dousing of alchohol on the fresh
cotton rag he’d brought. Then he wiped it across Gwen’s seat.
The blonde shrank at the contact. “Ohhh, no please don’t!” she
begged. Yet the doctor continued, wetting her entire bottom with broad
swaths of the alchohol-drenched rag. He even rubbed it against her
slit. “Oh, not on my pussy! Oooch!” Gwen protested. Then Dr. Johns,
oblivious to the girl’s pleadings, wet the rag again and wiped within
the crack of her bottom.
“Ooooch! It’s getting into my hole! It stings!” Gwen said,
wiggling her fanny.
“As well it should,” Miss Dumpkins said. She appeared to be
growing impatient with the extensiveness of the doctor’s attentions and
she gave him a swishing crack of the cane across his bare buns.
“YeeeeOW! What’re you doing that to me for?” the doctor asked.
“What, you don’t like to get your hiney whacked? Doctor Adams
loves it,” Miss Dumpkins giggled.
“No, I don’t,” Doctor Johns answered. He switched from Gwen’s
bottom over to Tabitha’s. She’d been closer but he’d passed her by,
favoring Gwen first, perhaps to let Tabitha ‘wriggle on the vine,’ while
she watched her friend get wiped down. Now, staring balefully back over
her shoulder, she shuddered as the alcohol rag came wetly against her
bottom.
“Oh, that stings!” Tabitha complained.
“Bear up and take it like a good girl,” Miss Dumpkins said.
“Put it liberally on her, Doctor Johns, all over her bottom. I know
she’s the one who thought of this naughty idea.”
Tabitha strained on tip-toes as the alcohol was rubbed across
her ass and then into her slit and finally into her nether hole. “How
do you know I thought it up?” Tabitha asked through pursed lips.
“Because you’re a little tramp,” Miss Dumpkins said. “Or a
tramp in the making.” She laughed. “You remind me of myself at 13.”
Greg wished he could spare the girls their fate. He saw them
wincing at the contact of the alcohol pad and he knew they’d really
wince when they’d felt the cane. He’d dated a dominatrix, briefly, and
he knew how much a slim whippy cane could sting. Yet, Miss Dumpkins was
right, if applied with care, it could skim the seat and cause pain
without even leaving marking the skin. He doubted Miss Dumpkins’ few
months of training on Tabby’s dad had given her that level of skill.
But he knew she’d apply the cane with care. Yet he’d still have spared
the girls’ squirming seats if he could have. They seemed too young to
him to be subject to such torments, especially since both of them were
still virgins.
Doctor Johns stepped back. Warily he eyed Miss Dumpkins and
her cane.
“Ready, girls?” Miss Dumpkins asked.
“Nooooo,”
“Nooooo,” both girls replied in unison.
“Oh, I almost forgot, they must be gagged,” Miss Dumpkins
said. “They’re not old enough or trained enough yet to keep silent.
Even Tabby’s Dad had to be gagged at first.”
Doctor Johns fetched two strips of cloth from a drawer
underneath the formica cabinet. Returning, he bound Gwen’s mouth first,
then Tabitha’s. The girls tried to twist their faces away from him but,
stretched out over Greg and tied down, they had little chance of evading
him. When he was finished both girls faced each other again, and Greg,
seeing the eyes of Gwen, knew she was resigned to her fate. Along the
side of the table, her long thin legs rubbed together, then crossed.
Tabitha’s did the same.
“Excited, girls?” Miss Dumpkins asked. “I would be too, if it
were my first caning. Let us proceed, then. Remember, this is for your
own good. And my pleasure,” she added. She looked at Doctor Johns.
“You may play with yourself if you wish, Doctor Johns,” she said. “I’m
going to, and these little ones would love to, if they only could.”
Miss Dumpkins, holding her cane in one hand, deftly placed her other
hand within her slit. Immediatley she let out a small gasp of pleasure
and flung her head back. Then, composing herself, but still frigging
herself too, she lifted the cane she held.
“Legs apart, girls!” Miss Dumpkins said. “Don’t try to frig
yourselves by rubbing your thighs together!”
WHICK! The cane came down before either girl could comply.
“Whooo! Hoooo!” Gwen cried. Small puffs of her breath escaped
from behind her gag and washed over the shaft of Greg’s penis.
“Oooooh!” Tabitha groaned. She responded with a shapely buck
of her hips as the cane made contact with her bare bottom and then
bounced off. Her thin legs tensed, her toes curled. She settled down
on the balls of her feet at last, looked over her shoulder, gazing at
Miss Dumpkins with frightened anticipation.
“My, you looked like you almost liked that, Tabby,” Miss
Dumpkins said. “I know you have a cruel streak in you. Are you
imagining already learning the technique of the cane yourself, and
applying it to your friends? Well I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to
follow before you can lead, my dear.”
SWIIIISH! The cane struck Gwen again and the blonde arched her
back and, after the cane had left her, thrust out the cheeks of her
bottom. Then, like a dancer, she kicked up her feet; one to the right
and the other to the left, each foot doing a dance of its own. Miss
Dumpkins laughed at her antics. The balloon of Gwen’s bottom showed
twin streaks where the cane had touched it.
“Yes, Tabitha, time for another stroke for you, too,” Miss
Dumpkins said to the dark-haired girl. Tabby waited with a softly
huddled bottom, standing straight up on her toes.
SWIIICK! The cane came, left a mark in its wake. Tabitha
danced. Her breath puffed over Greg’s shaft.
“Dr. Johns, please lubricate your shaft,” Miss Dumpkins said to
her male companion. “I want you to give these two a little taste of
what it will be like to ride atop Greg.”
“Sure,” Doctor Johns answered. He quit stroking his cock and
went to the counter and rummaged around ‘til he found a jar of petroleum
jelly and, in addition to that, a tube of KY. “Think I should wear a
condom?” he asked. He began to rub lubricant on his penis.
“No, you won’t need it,” Miss Dumpkins said. “You’ll be taking
them in their bottoms.”
“Ooooh! Nooo!” Gwen’s voice howled within her gag. Tabitha
seemed no less pleased at her announced fate, uttering up a screamy
whimper.
“Girls, you cannot pick and choose every man,” Miss Dumpkins
said. “To be proper tramps you must let yourselves be a little free.”
She gave each girl’s seat a fresh whack, more impressive than the
previous ones, and the girls set to dancing like puppets on the end of
strings. Their breath continued to puff out around the stem of Greg’s
cock and he wished, for once, they wouldn’t look at each other as they
struggled under the cane.
Doctor Johns used his hands to turn his penis into a slathered
well-oiled machine. It looked rather like a sausage dipped in heavy
grease and, since he was otherwise naked, the gleam of his wet penis
stood out in sharp contrast to his otherwise dry stomach and thighs.
Only the palms of his hands shared the wet look his penis now bore.
Miss Dumpkins gave each struggling girl ten well-placed whacks
with her cane. She might have continued, but suddenly she threw the
cane down on the floor and ran up beside Tabitha. She kissed Greg’s
hairy chest, then licked his neck and finally forced his mouth (not
unwillingly) to engage with hers in a deep-tonguing kiss.
“Oh, I can’t stand being all hot and bothered and not having a
well-stung hiney,” Miss Dumpkins breathed hotly when she at last came up
for air. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Doctor Johns, would
you please whack my ass while I kiss Greg?” she asked.
“It would be-- an honor,” Doctor Johns admitted truthfully.
With his cock waggling wetly, he walked over to where she’d cast the
cane and picked it up from the floor. Then he flexed it once and,
before turning to her, gave each young virgin trussed across Greg a
quick smack.
“ooooh!” Gwen uttered, but not as wailingly loud as before for,
fearing he might hurt them, Doctor Johns had struck quite lightly.
Tabitha only grimaced, said nothing. She was learning, Greg realized,
with a shiver than ran down to his loins and then up to the tip of his
cock, to take the cane.
“Hard, please,” Miss Dumpkins instructed Doctor Johns. Greg
saw Tabitha’s eyes widen, thinking she was speaking of what she wished
for her. Then the junior dark-haired girl realized Miss Dumpkins was
speaking of herself.
“Mmmmweawyharf,” Tabitha said through her gag to Doctor Johns.
Greg couldn’t make out the words. But he guessed, knowing Tabitha, that
the girl had begged Doctor Johns to strike her companion very hard.
WHACK! The first blow fell and it was not a light one, for
Doctor Johns had not mastered the technique. Miss Dumpkins cried out
but otherwise seemed not to mind. She ground her hips and pressed her
mouth hard to Greg. She cradled his head with her arms. She drove her
tongue into Greg’s mouth. He reeled under the assault. He’d never been
so invaded by a woman before. Yes, he’d dueled with many, but Miss
Dumpkins seemed to possess a fire all her own. Her fury and his
condition, tied between the two underage girls with his cock at full
attention, hearing the sound of the cane cracking across Miss Dumpkins’
bottom, was suddenly too much for him. Twisting his hips on the table,
hoping desperately not to cum, he suddenly found himself spouting cum
like a geyser. It was humiliating. Nobody was even touching him. Yet
his cock, sensitized to the extreme by the Solumedrol the girls had
injected him with and the luridness of his surroudings, fired off a
cannonade of sperm. The two virgins bound above and below his privates
shrieked as they felt hot globs of his sperm splatter down onto their
faces and pretty hair.
“Yes, love, yes! You are so naught to cum! You must be caned
too!” Miss Dumpkins told Greg. This only made him more aroused, and he
ejected yet more sperm, shooting off a whole week’s worth of seed upon
poor little Tabby and Gwen.
“That’s one Hell of a reproductive system,” Doctor Johns
crowed, admiring the display of Greg’s eruption. He laughed. Then he
gave each young maiden tied across Greg’s body another swift crack of
the cane on their bottoms to keep them occupied while he set about doing
the same to Miss Dumpkins. The two girls screamed, despite their gags,
for Doctor Johns had thrown caution to the winds this time, and given
them the cane with the force he desired, rather than with a timid hand,
as before. As Tabby and Gwen wriggled their hips unhappily, tears
bursting from their eyes, Doctor Johns turned back to Miss Dumpkins. He
gave her a blow of the same force. Abruptly she lifted her face from
Greg, drawing her tongue out of his mouth, and shrieked. Her bottom
became a tumult of motion, her cheeks contracting under the blow, then
bounding out as the cane bounced away, then squeezing fiercely. A
bright line crossed over her heinie. Doctor Johnson guessed it would
welt and the thought excited him and he looked at the twin virgins and
saw he’d marked them in a similar manner, his stroke brighter than those
given by Miss Dumpkins, more deeply impressed.
With a cruel gleam coming over his eyes Doctor Johns fisted his
cock and resolved to give Miss Dumpkins the caning she really deserved.
He was no expert at it, but he guessed simply by using his surgical mind
and applying the blows with force he could give her an experience she’d
remember long after their ways parted. He drew up his arm and, his
stiff cock jaggling up and down like a tuning fork, he brought the slim
cane down across Miss Dumpkins’ plump ass.
“Yeeeeooch!” Miss Dumpkins yelled, with obvious surprise. Her
hands were forced to leave Greg’s face and fly to her ass. She rubbed
it like a child fresh from the Principal’s office. Her feet pranced and
she did a little dance beside Greg’s head. Tears sprung from her eyes
and ran down her cheeks. She wore waterproof makeup, of course,
expecting perhaps to cry, if her lover were strong enough with her, and
Doctor Johns found himself disliking her for taking such a precaution.
He wanted her mussed, messed. She was still too much in control, too
much in charge.
“That hurt!” Miss Dumpkins said ruefully. She looked back over
her shoulder at Doctor Johns.
“It’s supposed to,” he answered.
“Not THAT much!” Miss Dumpkins said. Greg thought he heard,
behind her gag, Gwen say to Tabby, “Lookthwhothtalkinth,” which he
interpreted to be “Look who’s talking.” He smiled. His dick, even
though beginning to shrink, felt great. His balls felt relieved. Even
though he hadn’t speared the girls he had showered their hair with his
seed. They were too young, he told himself, for a real ride. Better
they go back to riding real horses and ponies, their hymens intact. And
then he remembered that a girl’s cherry sometimes pops doing things
liked riding a horse. And again, though he tried to fight the thought,
he found himself thinking, “Well, if they’re going to pop anyway, why
not do it for real?” The thought made his cock stiffen up. The girls
watched it, wide-eyed, tied on either side of his loins. He wondered if
they were grinning at each other beneath their gags. They had, after
all, chosen him for their maiden ride.
Despite her newfound fear of Doctor Johns, Miss Dumpkins once
again put her mouth over Greg’s and cradled his head in her arms. With
great bravery she stuck out her damaged tushy at the doctor. He seemed
to have forgotten the Hippocratic Oath, but perhaps she’d been looking
for a man who would. The doctor paced back and forth behind her. He
flexed his cane. His cock stuck out lewdly from his body, waiting for
its turn at the woman. He lifted his arm and brought the cane down hard
again.
“OOOOOOYH--YEEEEE!” Miss Dumpkins cried out. But this time,
despite the severity of the blow, she managed to hold onto Greg’s head.
Her mouth tore from his and Greg watched, her arms clinging round his
head, as she screamed at the ceiling.
“Miss Dumpkins, please do control yourself. You’ll be heard
all over the building,” Doctor Johns said.
“Oh, I can’t!” Miss Dumpkins wailed. “It hurts too much!”
“Then I shall have to forbare, but not for the sake of your
bottom, only for my cock, which is dying to have you,” Doctor Johns
said.
“Oh, no, the girls!” Miss Dumpkins said. “Do them, not me,
they must be trained!” But Doctor Johns was no pervert and he was upon
her in a flash, the cane cast away, his cock prying between her clenched
thighs to find her cunt.
“Give me your cunt or I’ll fuck your ass,” Doctor Johns warned.
“Nooo, the girls!” Miss Dumpkins said.
Greg watched as the woman, her head lifted above his, suddenly
gasped. The doctor had yanked her thighs apart, pulled her butt back,
and found an opening. Greg wasn’t sure which.
“Oooooh! Please not my hole!” Miss Dumpkins said.
“Yes, your hiney-hole it will be then, to punish you,” Doctor
Johns said. “You wish the same for the girls. Well, try it yourself.”
“No, I’ve never had it th-th-tha-at way!” Miss Dumpkins gasped.
“What? God, you’re so tight! I think you’re telling the
truth!” Doctor Johns said. “You didn’t want to ‘train’ the girls, you
wanted to watch them suffer and see what it was like!”
“I know, I know,” Miss Dumpkins confessed.
“Amazing,” Doctor Johns said. “To think you’d play at being
such a vixen, yet be an innocent, at least in your bottom,” Doctor Johns
gasped. His cock was truly being squeezed now. Greg knew the feeling.
He’d porked girls every which way there was and the bottom was as
inviting as a virgin’s slit. Especially if it was virgin itself.
Doctor Johns groaned. Despite all his years as a student and a
resident, nothing had prepared him for this. He was, Greg guessed, a
virgin himself when it came to sticking himself up the female butthole.
Greg laughed. He was bound, trussed up like a turkey, on GYN table no
less, but it was hilarious to an experienced pro like himself to see a
Doctor, A Doctor (!) struggle with his first anal entry.
“There’s an outer ring and an inner ring, doctor,” Greg said to
the man. “The outer one can be gotten open but the inner one requires
coaxing. Go slow, you’ll get it. Otherwise you might tear it and harm
her.”
Little Gwen and Tabitha stared at Greg with wide eyes. He
realized what they were thinking. They’d chosen the right man for the
job. Not Dalton, apparenlty some 13-year-old who completely lacked
sperm control, and not even Doctor Johns, who despite his medical
license apparently had great gaps in his practical knowledge. No, it
was Greg they’d decided upon, hatching their little plot, and now they
saw he was the man to take their virginity from them. In two ways, not
just one, as they’d intended. Greg realized that, for their sakes, if
nothing else, he owed it to them to open them up properly. They were no
longer just children to him anymore. They were young ladies, seeking
knowledge, and he didn’t want to see them left to Dalton or, God forbid,
to some other dude who might injure them. Greg’s cock stiffened. The
girls watched it rise and their eyes, though still smarting from the
cane, appeared mirthful.
The two girls watched attentively as Miss Dumpkins received her
first ride on the male prong. Slowly, taking Greg’s advice, Doctor
Johns forced his way up inside her ass.
“Yes, yes, take it my sweet,” Doctor Johns urged Miss
Dumpkins. Bravely she let the weight of her bottom protrude into his
urging hands. His spear impaled her. Greg guessed the woman was hardly
‘his sweet,’ though indeed sweet to fuck. It was a fling, nothing
more. Greg had spied a wedding band on the man’s finger and knew he
wouldn’t be doing anything more than taking his share of Miss Dumpkins,
so he could boast to his friends that he’d had her, a woman who was
obviously the best-looking in the building, if not in the entire state.
“Ohhhh, no, it’s-- it’s so big I can’t take it all,” Miss
Dumpkins sighed.
“You know you can, I can feel, God, you’re so tight, ah, I must
have your shit all over my dick,” Doctor Johns groaned. “Mmmm, I’m up
high, gonna pull back a little, then ram it up!”
“Oooof! Please don’--” Miss Dumpkins urged, but he was already
quick-thrusting in her, drawing back and then lunging up within her
again. She shrieked. Gwen and Tabitha’s eyes were as big as saucers.
“Hethdointhherthgooth!” Gwen said thru her gag to Tabitha.
Tabitha nodded.
“Ah, up and back, in and out, my sweet, yes, move your hips!”
Doctor Johns said to Miss Dumpkins. Together they began to move in
unison. His cock would draw back as her hips tightened and drew away.
Then, in an increasingly fluid movement, he would jab his big thing up
her as she boldly pushed her bottom out to him. Greg sighed. It was
glorious to watch. But his penis was becoming rock hard again and he
felt a new desperation. He wished he could at least bring his legs
together to console the stirring within his balls. Even a squeeze of
his own hairy thighs upon them would be some releif. But instead they
bulged anew, refilled by his youth and the Solumedrol the girls had
injected him with. His dick stood up ramrod straight and he wished he
could poke it in anything, anything at all. Even the privates of the
two little virgins who gazed (when they weren’t staring at the doctor
and Miss Dumpkins) so attentively at it.
“HethgettinthweallthBIGagainth!” Gwen said to Tabitha, turning
her eyes to Greg’s growing cock. Tabitha, sharing the same mindset as
Gwen, easily understood her and nodded. Doctor Johns, meanwhile,
driving within Miss Dumpkins with passionate force, brought himself to
the brink of climax. The girls turned their eyes, watched. Greg heard
the doctor groan, laughed, felt Miss Dumpkins shudder against him as she
received his seed.
Slowly the two detached themselves from each other. Greg heard
the familiar ‘pop’ as the doctor withdrew himself from Miss Dumpkins’
(formerly) virgin butt. The thought that two young virgins remained, to
be trained to receive the male in all their holes, kept the doctor at
half-staff even after he’d cum. Greg watched the man’s tumescent prick
warily. He wasn’t sure he wanted the less-than-good doctor doing his
chicks. Greg felt very solicitous of his twin virgins now. They were
young, adventurous. In the wrong hands, hands like the doctor’s,
untrained and mean-spirited, they could wind up getting much more than
they deserved.
Yet Greg was tied to the GYN table. He twisted his wrists in
the tubing but the girls had done an excellent job of tying him down.
He suspected that in Girl Scouts, perhaps even in Brownies, the girls
hadn’t been learning how to tie knots with the purest of intentions.
Their Scout Leader might have admired their virtue in learning so well
such an obviously innocent skill, but the girls themselves were
practising for when they’d put a man into bondage, just like they’d read
on (Greg suspected) alt.sex.stories.
Greg tried moving his ankles and found they were just as
secure. He tried rising. No luck. His chest was as tightly bound as
his arms and legs, leaving him just enough room to take a deep breath.
Greg watched with envy as Miss Dumpkins, nursing her behind, helped
Doctor Johns untie the girls from Greg’s body. The girls’ hands flew to
their bottoms as soon as they were released. Still wearing her gag,
Gwen said,
“Thathhurth!”
Tabby nodded, clutching at her own bare behind.
“Wewy, wewy BADTHLY!” Gwen added. She lifted one of her
saddle-shoed feet and then the other. She still wore her bobby sox.
They were folded into little folds around her ankles. Tabitha still
wore her slinky thigh-high stockings.
“Mmmm, Doctor Johns, I do believe you’ve given each of these
girls their first welt,” Miss Dumpkins said in an admiring tone. She
turned each girl, still gagged, but with her hands free and briskly
rubbing her bottom, and gazed at their seats. “Yes. I didn’t dare, but
you did. Typical of a man. Best for them, though, I suppose,” Miss
Dumpkins said.
Tabitha managed, with Miss Dumpkins displacing her hands from
her bottom to see her welt, to lift up her hands. Gwen still kept her
hands round her bottom, hoping, despite Miss Dumpkins’ inspection, to
somehow keep continuously rubbing it, perhaps forever.
Tabitha got her gag untied and pulled it off. “Oh!” she
blurted. “My bottom feels like a hot iron’s been placed across it!”
“Yes, dear, that’s what a welt feels like,” Miss Dumpkins said
consolingly. “I have one too, and so does Gwen. Doctor Johns was
meaner to you than I expected he’d be.”
Miss Dumpkins let go of the rubbery cheeks of Tabitha’s
bottom. She stepped over to Gwen and put her hands to the back of the
girl’s neck. She untied Gwen’s gag, as Tabitha gave Doctor Johns a
rueful raspberry.
“Well, the same to you, except I’m going to preserve my modesty
and not actually deliver it,” Doctor Johns said. “I’m not 10 anymore
like you are.”
“Oh!” Tabitha said. She darted around behind Doctor Johns and
slapped his hairy ass.
Gwen, inspired by her friend, darted from Miss Dumpkins,
leaving her gag in the woman’s hand.
“Take this, you dirty old man!” Gwen announced. She seized the
cane lying on the floor and went chasing after Doctor Johns.
“Whoa! Girls! Don’t--” Doctor Johns cried. “YEEEOWCH!” He
clutched his bare ass as Gwen whacked it with the cane. She struck
again, hitting his hands. “Stop! Stop!” Doctor Johns said.
“I don’t like you,” Gwen said to him. She stuck out her tongue
and gave him an even bigger display of raspberries than Tabitha had.
“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Doctor Johns said. He grabbed up his
clothes from the floor and his medical smock from the clothes rack.
“Miss Dumpkins, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. He nodded
to the woman.
“The pleasure was all mine,” Miss Dumpkins answered. She
smiled. “Including the little present you left imprinted on my backside
and inside it as well.”
“I’ll be going now,” Doctor Johns said. He was going to insult
the girls’ ages again but Gwen lifted the cane menacingly. He darted
past her, she swished it, struck again.
“God DAMN! Little 10-year-old whore!” Doctor Johns said. He
grabbed the handle on the exam room door and turned it.
“I’m not 10-years-old, I’m 12!” Gwen announced. She was about
to chase after him but Miss Dumpkins but a hand to her shoulder.
“Don’t dear, let him go,” Miss Dumpkins said. “It’s time for
your pony ride.”
Gwen shivered. She let the cane fall from her hands. Doctor
Johns, apparently interested only in his own pleasure, and reasonably
satisfied, closed the door behind him. Greg was glad. He could handle
three women. He wasn’t sure he could handle the less-than-predictable
Doctor Johns. When the door had closed Miss Dumpkins stood a moment,
waiting, stroking and pulling at Gwen’s pony tails with her fingers.
Then she went to the door and locked it from the inside.
Miss Dumpkins turned and looked frankly at Greg. “Poor boy,
you’ve suffered so much,” she said. She walked over to him, drawing a
shivering Gwen along with her as she went. She stood over his head,
gazed down into his face. Greg thought she was going to kiss him. He
watched the fruit of her breasts jiggling slightly beside his head.
“Should we do this here?” she asked frankly.
“Huh?” Greg asked.
“I don’t entirely trust Doctor Johns,” she said. “He could
report us. Should we stay, or go?”
“Cum!” Gwen said, putting a hand to her pussy.
“Mmmm,” Tabitha agreed. She nodded her head and, quite
casually, put a finger to her cunt and diddled it within the lips.
“Girls, I know you’re wet and your little cunts are hungry,”
Miss Dumpkins said. “But It’s too risky to stay here now. We must go
someplace else for your denoument.”
“But where?” Gwen asked frankly. “My parents are both home.”
She kept fingering herself, hoping for immediate pleasure.
“I don’t know... let me think,” Miss Dumpkins said. “My
boyfriend’s staying in my apartment. He’s a jealous sort. He’d beat me
if he knew I had another man in my life.” She smiled at Greg. “That’s
why I like him.”
“My mom’s home,” Tabitha said. She looked at Greg. “How about
your place?”
“Um, no luck. I have a girlfriend and while she woulnd’t beat
me she’d never understand me porking two girls just out of puberty,”
Greg said.
“Am I out of puberty?” Gwen asked. Miss Dumpkins smiled.
“I don’t know, dear, but you’ve got a fine pair of breasts that
long to be kissed and a little puss you’d be wasting if you kept it to
yourself any longer. Hmmm, there’s a dungeon downtown. You know, a sex
place. For married couples and stuff. I don’t know if the proprietess
would agree with two, well, two ‘minor children’ getting porked in her
place. But we could try. Otherwise,” she said, with a glance at Greg,
“It’s the Holiday Inn, and you and I, dear, had sex together when we
were these girls’ ages, and we’re their parents.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure they’d fall for that,” Greg said. “While
dialing 911.”
“You never know, with me along it might work,” Miss Dumpkins
said.
“Let’s try the dungeon place,” Greg said. “At least if she
turns us away she won’t report us.”
“Okay, then,” Miss Dumpkins said. “Back into your panties,
girls! And help me untie your friend here, too. I know less about knots
than I think you two do, judging from how well they’re made.”
“I’m an honor scout!” Gwen said.
“I’m sure you are, dear,” Miss Dumpkins said. “But get your
panties on first, and your skirt, in case someone knocks.”
Dressing as best they could, and with rather regretful looks on
their faces, the girls helped Miss Dumpkins free Greg.
Greg sat up. It felt great to be free. He flexed his arms,
his legs. He felt his wrists. He cast a sidelong glance at the
surgical kit Tabitha had played doctor with.
“We’ve got to wash this sperm out of our hair!” Gwen
announced. Miss Dumpkins nodded.
“What am I going to do about this?” Greg asked frankly.
“Your cock?” Miss Dumpkins said.
“It’s hard as a rock,” Greg said. He gazed down at himself.
Behind him, the girls turned on the sink and untied their hair.
“Ouch! Let me go first!” Tabitha said. “Don’t bump your head
against mine.”
“Well if someone comes in I don’t want them to see just ME with
sperm in my hair!” Gwen said.
“Well, we’ll share then, as best we can, but remember it’s MY
dad’s sink!” Tabitha warned her friend. Bumping their heads together,
they managed to both somehow alternately catch the water in their hair
from the handicapped-equipped sink. Although pubescent girls with sperm
in their hair had doubtless not been one of the handicaps the government
intended to address when mandating handicapped-equipped sinks, it was
perfect. The girls picked up a bottle of soap and squirted it on their
heads. They washed diligently. Miss Dumpkins told them to hurry.
It was a little while later that two girls with towels
curiously wrapped round their heads and rather mussed clothes showed up
at the doorstep of the town’s only S&M club. Greg and Miss Dumpkins
entered with them, Greg sporting a distinct bulge in his pants and
incongruously wearing his football uniform. Miss Dumpkins was dressed
as a clinical nurse.
“Whoa, all the costumes in the world aren’t getting these two
past me,” a middle-aged women said, coming out from behind the
glassed-in booth where people paid her their fees to rent rooms by the
hour.
“Hi, Beth,” Miss Dumpkins said. She paused, swallowed. “Um, I
know they’re young, but we’re not trying to fool you about them. We’re
rather in a hurry. Could you let us have a room?”
The two girls wiggled visibly under the middle-aged woman’s
stare. Gwen, suddenly losing her reserve, stuck her finger under her
dress and played with her slit.
“My, I see, you’ve already started,” the middle-aged woman
said. Tabitha looked at Gwen, bit her lip and, copying her friend,
stuck her hand under her dress and let out a small sigh of relief as her
finger found her cunt.
The middle-aged woman looked from the girls to the Greg. She
eyed his boner with obvious pleasure. Finally she looked at Miss
Dumpkins.
“Alright, Sylvia, but just this once,” the middle-aged woman
said.
“Oh, thank you,” Sylvia said. She opened her purse.
“Never mind, just get these two little ones out of my lobby,”
the proprietess said. Greg nodded. He put a hand to the back of each
girl’s head and guided them forward. The proprietess stepped back,
opened a door. She let them into a long hallway.
“I’ll give you the key... ah...” she walked back into her
glassed-in booth, then turned to look at the girls through the open
door. “Are they virgins?”
Greg nodded.
“Room 42, then,” the proprietess said. “It won’t give you the
answer to ‘life, the universe, and everything,’ but it’s far enough back
that people won’t hear them screaming when you pop them.”
Gwen and Tabitha glanced anxiously at each other. But they
kept on rubbing their slits under their shortened skirts.
The foursome entered within the darkness of a room. Miss
Dumpkins felt for a light switch, found it. She flipped it on. A
roomful of bizarre instruments of torture lit up before their eyes.
Gwen and Tabitha gasped. Greg stifled a gasp of his own. He’d mostly
spent his life laying chicks. This gave that art a whole new dimension.
“Yes, it’s a room for torture, but *sexual* torture,” Miss
Dumpkins said.
“That’s a relief,” Greg replied.
“Ooooh, waht’s that?” Gwen asked in a low voice.
“I don’t have time to explain everything to you girls,” Miss
Dumpkins answered. “Or, rather, you two don’t have the time to listen.
You can’t stay wet forever and it’s going to be a difficult enough ride
for you as it is. Get out of your things. You too, Greg. And then get
on that.” She pointed.
Greg looked. He saw a flat table, made of wood, but with its
top covered with padded leather.
“Be glad it has a pad on it,” Miss Dumpkins said. “Room 41 is
bare wood. I get splinters in my ass when my boyfriend makes me lie on
it.”
“It-- It’s a rack,” Greg stammered. He cold see a windlass at
each end.
“Yes, darling, it’s just like the GYN table in many respects,
except Doctor Johns won’t be arriving here with the police, as he might
back in the room we left.”
“You really think he’d do that?” Greg asked.
“Why do you think I took care to wipe your sperm off the table
and floor?” she replied. “Get on the table. I’ll buckle you in.
Spread your legs. I want you as deliciously tortured as the girls are
going to be, having to ride that giant thing between your legs they
think is a cock.”
“It isn’t?!” Gwen asked, wide eyed, lowering her panties.
“Just kidding, dear. I think God switched organs with a mule
when making him, just for his amusement.”
They undressed. It was quiet in the room. Somewhere water
could be heard dripping and Greg wondered what it was, if it would drive
him out of his mind once he was tied down to the rack. He kicked off
everything, stripping down to his bare feet. It thrilled him, in a
creepy sort of way, to be completely naked in such a deadly-looking
place. The girls kept their shoes on, and their stockings, but
everything else came off. At last they were all nude together and for a
moment they just stared, mesmerized by the sight of each others’ nude
bodies in such a wicked place and the thought of what, with just a
little consent, they could inflict on each other.
Gwen and Tabitha glanced around them.
“This is a scary place,” Gwen admitted. Freely she began
rubbing her slit again. Tabitha, her thighs shivering, somehow found
the reserve not to play with herself. Perhaps she was too scared to.
Both of them had eyes like saucers.
“Mmmm, but what a special place to torture a guy like Greg,”
she smiled. Greg shook his head. He was right. She’d be another Miss
Dumpkins someday, loving the lash and everything else that such play
involved. Greg scanned Miss Dumpkins’ body for scars but found none.
He guessed she was lucky.
“Greg, dear, get up on the table, I want to tie you down,” Miss
Dumpkins said to the man. He felt rather stupid obeying, but he did
anyway. His cock was too hard for him to resist. He hoisted his ass
onto the table and felt the leather underneath it. Cool, a little too
much so to sit on, until his flesh warmed it. Then he lay back. He
stretched out his arms and legs. He could see, down below the horizon
of his hairy chest, his dick sticking up like a tower.
Sylvia (it was no use calling her by her proper name anymore,
he reasoned, it was too formal for the intimacy they’d share now) came
up to him and kissed him.
“Hi-- Sylvia,” he said to her.
“Hi Greggie,” she answered. She gave him a polite kiss. He
felt the weight of her breasts in the air, then the brush of them
against his cheek as she straightened up. He lifted his head to catch
at one of her nipples but she drew back, denied him. “Girls, get some
vaseline and KY out of that cabinet over there,” she said, turning to
the twin virgins. “You’re going to have to lube Greg up good to ride on
his prong.”
“Okay,” twin voices piped up. Greg closed his eyes. He tried
to relax. He tried not to worry about the fact that he was in a dungeon
and to concentrate instead on the work ahead. It was, he agreed, best
for the girls that they should get to control him as they rode the male
prong for the first time in their lives. They were young, virgin. He
would never allowed them to take such liberties with him when he was
their age. But now, a well-seasoned soldier on the battlefield of sex,
he had no need to dominate. He could just lie back and concentrate on
retaining his seed while their little hands lubed him, and on holding
back for as long as possible while each of them broke her hymen over his
rod and rode it to glory.
Greg heard the crack of a whip.
“OWWWW!” Gwen cried. He turned his head.
“Girls, don’t play with the cat o’ nine tails! Get the lube!
We’ve got work to do,” Sylvia said.
“She whacked my bottom!” Gwen whined.
“I didn’t do it hard, silly,” Tabitha said.
Gwen stood clutching her bottom. The towel was off her head
and her hair was a damp mass of gold tumbling down past her face and
halfway down her back.
“You don’t *have* to hit somebody hard to make it hurt with
that thing,” Gwen said, a tear in her eye.
“I’m sorry,” Tabitha said contritely. She gave the cat to
Gwen. She turned and presented her bare ass to the girl. “Here, you
can hit me back with it.”
“Girls,” Sylvia called out. Greedily Gwen accepted the cat and
eyed her friend’s bottom.
WHACK! She slashed the cat across Tabby’s rear.
“YEEEEEOOOOOOCH!” Tabby hollared. She leapt into the air like
a caught fish on an angler’s line. She clapped her hands to her bottom
and danced from foot to foot, making her large bosoms bounce lewdly on
her chest.
“That’s what you get for doing it to me,” Gwen said happily,
watching her friend.
“Girls, I’m going to give you both a taste of the cat if you
don’t get some lube and get over here,” Sylvia warned.
“Gosh that does hurt,” Tabby admitted when she’d finally
settled down enough to speak. Tears were in her eyes. Greg guessed she
might have any extra welt or two on her bottom in the morning. Small
ones, from where the cat’s nine tails bit into her tender ass.
Syliva, binding Greg’s wrists, went to his feet next. “You
have smelly feet,” she told him.
“All men have smelly feet,” Gwen announced, trotting over with
a whole handful of lubes, oils, and ointments. She dumped her armful
onto Greg’s chest. “Do I have enough?” she asked Sylvia.
“Yes, dear, you could lubricate Napoleon’s Army,” Sylvia
answered with a grin. “Are you still wet?” The girl reached down, felt
her cunny with her finger, nodded. She rubbed her clit a little.
“Yep,” she answered.
“Very good,” Sylvia said, busily restraining Greg’s feet. She
used leather straps. They cut into Greg’s skin a little, but he didn’t
mind. He was too preoccupied with his dick.
It was ravenous. He’d shot off once but the Solumedrol was
still having its effect. And he needed to pee again, though he’d done
so at the medical building before leaving it. They’d all peed, in a
small toilet, each modestly taking a turn. It had been rather strange,
seeing them go in and out, alone, the others waiting, the two girls
furtively frigging themselves all the while under their skirts. Gwen
had warned them not to orgasm. They’d need all the juice they had for
their horsey ride.
When Greg was tied Sylvia turned the crank that held his feet.
“Hey!” Greg protested.
“Darling, we must make it a little painful,” Sylvia laughed.
“Don’t be such a baby.”
“Damn! I’m-- hey, that’s far enough!” Greg called out.
“Oh, alright,” Sylvia said. She gave him a bit of slack back
but he was still stretched out quite tautly. His hairy chest rose and
fell, nervously. His dick stuck up like a big red spear. It pulsed
with his blood. He hoped little Tabitha didn’t get anymore ideas about
playing with knives.
“Mmmm, he’s SO big,” Tabitha said, gliding up to the rack,
still holding her wounded hindquarters in her palms.
“I go first,” Gwen said. She kneed her way up onto the table.
She turned, showing her bottom to Greg’s face, and picked up a bottle of
KY. She squirted its contents liberally over Greg’s dick. He sighed at
the sudden coolness of the fluid against the hot skin of his cock.
Diligently Gwen, straddling his stomach, began to lubricate the entire
length of his shaft. She could easily get both her hands around his
thing, leaving room to spare. Yes, he was a monster, he had to admit.
He hoped he didn’t injure the girl when she attempted to mount him.
“Let me help,” Tabitha said. Gwen seemed not to wish to share
Greg’s dick with her but Sylvia told her she must. Together the two
virgins coated Greg’s penis with everything Gwen had brought to the
table.
“We’re gonna need it,” Gwen said to Tabitha. Tabitha nodded.
At last the two girls were satisfied that they’d done all they
could to smoothe their ride. At Sylvia’s urging (for they might have
done more, perhaps to unconsciously delay the moment as long as they
could), Gwen turned around. Still straddling Greg’s stomach, she began
to crawl backward.
Greg felt his cockhead bump the girl’s bottom.
“Up, darling, don’t kneel so low. Straighten your legs. Don’t
crouch,” Sylvia urged. Gwen obeyed and got herself up over Greg’s
thrusting prong. “Now settle onto it,” Sylvia said. Gwen nodded,
paused a moment, then spread her small cuntlips with her fingers. Using
her other hand, she grappled with Greg’s cock. It was almost too big
for her little fist to get hold of. But she managed it and, guiding her
childish twat over his big pulsing manhood, she sat onto his prong.
“Oooooh! I can feel him!” Gwen declared. Greg felt his pee
slit touch, then slip within, the folds of her cunt.
Sylvia put her hands upon Gwen’s shoulders. “Bear down, girl.
He’s got to go up you. You’re not to ride on his peehole.”
“Ooohh, no, I can’t!” Gwen pleaded, but Sylvia gave her a quick
shove and suddenly Greg felt himself slide into the girl’s vagina.
“OOOCH!” Gwen cried. She looked down at herself. “Oooh, I’m
stuck on him,” she said. And indeed she was. She was perched atop
Greg’s dick alright, but appeared to be unable to get him up her. Gwen
lifted her hands. She wobbled atop his prong, which waved like a stalk
of wheat in the breezes of summer.
“Look ma, no hands!” Tabitha teased.
“I-- can’t get him out of me but I can’t get him anymore in,
either,” Gwen confessed.
“Bear down, dear. He’s got to pop you,” Sylvia said.
Helpfully she put her hands onto the girl’s shoulders again. She
shoved, harder this time.
“OUUUCCH!” Gwen cried. Suddenly Greg felt a wetness splatter
his cock, his loins. Blood. Gwen’s blood. The blood of her hymen.
The girl began to cry.
“Down, bitch! Bear down!” Sylvia said. She shoved the girl
harder onto Greg’s prong.
“OooooooEEEEEE!” Gwen howled. Like a girl sliding down a
firehouse pole, she slid down upon Greg’s very-well greased pole. Greg
felt her tightness enveloping him and he felt an enormous need to
discharge. But, gritting his teeth, he did his best to hold back. He
wanted to give her a decent ride, and there was still Tabby to go after
Gwen.
“Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh,” Gwen began to babble. She struggled to
rise up but Sylvia would only let her up a little, letting Greg slide
out of her just a few inches, then she’d ruthlessly ram the girl further
down, pushing his shaft even deeper into her.
“Our Mission: To Go Where No Man Has Gone Before,” Greg
repeated wryly to himself, while gritting his teeth against his
impending need to spend. She was so tight! It was delicious, but, he
felt like all the blood was being pushed out of his cock. God, what he
woudn’t do in this moment for a nice loose Woman who could just let him
sluice in her and enjoy it and spend. He’d plumbed the depths of many a
virgin. He really didn’t need this any more. This was Work, plain and
simple. He felt like a horse being taken out for one more lap around a
track he’d long since tired of. But he did his best to hold back. The
poor girl had earned it. Somebody had to pop her and it may as well, he
guessed, be him. But he was no longer doing her for the sake of
boasting, for the sake of beating a rival. Suddenly, as he felt her
tight tube slide down upon him, he felt he would have paid a rival to
take her from him, provided he did well by her. No, he was just doing
her, well, because he somehow cared about how it all turned out for
her. But, damn, she was awfully tight.
“Ooooo, I don’t like this! I’m going to tell my daddy you
forced meeee!” Gwen cried. Big tears rolled down her childish cheeks.
“Shush, dear, you can tell your daddy whatever you like when
it’s over, but right now I want you to ride him! Up and down, up and
down, let Greg’s thing split you wide open!”
“Eek! No! Oook! Stop! I’m POPPING!” Gwen yelled.
“You’re already popped, dear, now you’ve got to learn to get
him all the way up inside you and ride up and down on him,” Sylvia
said. Greg felt the girl’s wet tightness descend lower and lower.
“There, there,” Sylvia said. “You’re taking him! Very good! See,
you’re a big girl now!”
“You’re popped,” Tabitha said from beside the table. She stood
frigging her wet slit with her finger. It looked quite small next to
the big thing Gwen had just had driven up in her.
“Now, let’s get going,” Sylvia said. Gwen was settled now
completely upon Greg’s penis. Sylvia slapped the girl’s bottom. “Up
and down! Move it, honey! I want to see you ride him!”
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Gwen uttered as Sylvia lifted the girl up by
holding her under her arms. Gwen’s eyes were closed and her lashes
fluttered. She reached for her button but wasn’t quite able to reach
it, for it was pressed against Greg’s penis now.
“No, you’re not to be frigging yourself anymore, dear. You’re
FUCKING now,” Sylvia said. She let go of the girl. Gwen’s eyes popped
open and with a prolonged gasp she slid all the way down onto Greg’s
cock again.
“Do him! Ride him! Make him spill!” Tabitha cried from beside
the table, frigging herself furiously. Sylvia, hoping Gwen would ride
on her own now, stepped quickly over to Tabby and grabbed at her wrists.
“Ohhh, don’t!” Tabitha cried. But Gwen caught the girl’s hands
and lifted them up, held them captive.
“You’ll need all the juice you’ve got in your little slit for
riding his Thing now,” Sylvia said. “Don’t orgasm standing here on the
floor.”
“Ohhh, I don’t want to ride his thing, it’s too awful-looking,”
Tabitha said quietly.
Gwen, meanwhile, was beginning to learn what to do. Boldly she
began to bounce up and down on Greg’s cock. He found himself tightly
encased in her little sheath and prayed that he could hold out. ‘One
more, one more,’ he kept telling himself, reminding himself that he had
to do Tabby too.
“Mmmm, this feels good!” Gwen suddenly blurted. Her eyes
popped open and she clutched at her breasts with her hands.
“There, you’re getting the hang of it,” Sylvia smiled. “Your
little clit will get all the attention it needs now, rubbing against
Greg’s penis.”
“Ohhh, yes! Yes! I’m still being frigged even though I’m not
frigging myself,” Gwen admitted, in astonishment.
“It’s called fucking, dear,” Sylvia said. Playfully she bumped
her pubis against Tabitha from behind. The dark-haired girl seemed not
to mind and stuck her bottom forcefully backward, bumping Sylvia’s
puss. Sylvia cast her hips forward again and the two began to playfully
imitate fucking, though neither had anything to do the other with,
possessing only their little pussies.
Gwen rode upon Greg’s tool. Greg gritted his teeth and fought
his need to spend. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I think I’m cumming!” Gwen
announced.
“Greg, give her a little,” Sylvia said. She caressed Greg’s
thigh. When she saw little Gwen was on the brink but Greg had still
managed not to spill, she eased a hand between his legs and, getting it
underneath Gwen’s rising and falling bottom, she caught up one of Greg’s
testicle nuts in her hands. She squeezed him.
“Oh!” Greg hollared. And quite suddenly, just as little Gwen
began to juice him, he shot up inside her.
“EEEEEk! He’s peeing in me!” Gwen cried.
“It’s his cum, dear,” Sylvia answered. “Take it, take it all,
milk him with your little twat.”
“Yes!” Tabitha agreed. She could rub herself again, with one
of Sylvia’s hands preoccupied, and she did so furiously.
Sylvia pumped Greg’s balls with her hand. Greg arched his
hips, impaling Gwen even more deeply. Gwen rose and fell on him, her
breasts bouncing, playing with her nipples and shouting as she joined
with him in devirginating herself. Tabitha, watching, rubbed herself
like a girl gone mad and suddenly howled as she spent on her finger.
“Mmmm, that was luscious,” Slyvia said afterward. They sat in
a small sitting room reserved just for guests. The proprietess, uneasy
at first, had at last relented to let them partake of it. It was a
way-station for those who played, but might wish to play more, or join
with others. It overlooked a small duck pond where, in a clutter of
leaves, ducks circled, quacking happily.
They were still nude. Greg’s erection was limp, but not dead,
and promised to enlarge again. Tabby sat alone in a big leather chair,
her legs spread, showing her still-virgin slit. Gwen, devirginated now,
sat in a big leather chair of her own, but had her thighs pressed
together. Sylvia sipped a cocktail, admired Greg’s penis from across a
throw rug which separated their chairs.
The proprietess hovered nearby. There were certain guests she
felt wouldn’t mind seeing Tabby and Gwen in the sitting room. Those she
would permit to enter. Others would be told the room was closed for
repairs. A maid, barely 18, served drinks from a tray. She was
topless. Greg watched with admiration as her young breasts bounced
nakedly on her chest. She eyed his penis.
“Why don’t you have a bra on?” Gwen asked the girl, perhaps
envious, though she was as well endowed herself, though only 12.
“Why aren’t you wearing panties?” the maid shot back.
Gwen stuck her thumb into her mouth, defensively. “I don’t
know,” she answered.
A couple answered. A nude man and woman. The proprietess had
let them by. The were fresh from fucking, Greg could tell. He could
smell the lust of their adventure together on their bodies.
“Mmmm, hi,” the woman said. She sat down on the couch Greg was
sitting on. Openly she reached over and stroked his penis. Sylvia,
sitting on a loveseat across from Greg, was joined by the man. He
refrained from touching her but he eyed her with obvious passion.
“I’m taken,” Sylvia said to the man. She smiled at the woman
sitting across from her, so as not to offend her. But she didn’t want
to mate with her boyfriend, her husband, whoever she was. Yet she did
cast an appreciative eye over his body, looking just from the corner of
her eye, so as not to display too much interest.
“I have a whole box of condoms with your name on them,” the man
said to Slyvia.
“I’m sure you do,” Sylvia answered.
“She’s a virgin,” Gwen said. She pointed to Tabitha. The
13-year-old clapped her hands to her face.
“Am not!” Tabitha cried.
Gwen, still sucking her thumb, pulled it from her mouth and
said, “Are too!” Then she looked at the man who’d just joined them. “I
just lost mine,” she confessed.
“Mmmm, I have several boxes of condoms with all your names on
them,” the man said.
“We’re-- we’re together,” Greg said. “We’re not looking for
company today.” But the woman kept stroking his shaft and he did
nothing to stop her. And Sylvia added, “Some other time, perhaps. But
you’re welcome to share drinks with us.”
Outside the sun was setting over the trees. The ducks
quarreled over a leaf which fell into the pond, perhaps thinking it
edible. The woman, whose name they didn’t know, sipped a drink the maid
served her and continued stroking Greg’s penis. He didn’t mind. He
suspected the others didn’t either for, once he was hard, it would be
back to the dungeon, to devirginate Tabby. The lone virgin, watching
with interest as Greg’s cock began to enlarge, quietly began rubbing her
slit.
“It would be delightful, don’t you think, to all do it
together?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know,” Greg answered. He looked at Sylvia.
“Are you clean?” Sylvia asked.
“Of course, otherwise I would not propose it,” the woman
replied.
“We could go to our place,” the man proposed. “Bathe there,
everything. Wash our clothes. Then party.”
“Well, a fresh start would be nice,” Sylvia confessed with a
blush. “What do you think, Greg?”
“I don’t mind,” Greg replied. He looked at the girls. “When
do you two have to be home?”
“No special time,” Tabitha said.
“Me neither,” Gwen said. Greg was sure they were both lying
but he was also sure they’d become adept at making up excuses for their
parents. They looked like girls who knew how to do that.
“Alright,” Greg said. They rose.
“I’m Ann,” the woman said to him.
“I’m Greg,” Greg replied. She shook his cock with her hands.
“I’m Ed,” the new man said.
“Ed,” pleased to meet you, Sylvia replied. And she took hold
of his penis, which had grown considerably since they’d entered the
room, and shook it.
They dressed and went to the couple’s home. The proprietess
seemed glad to see them go. The two girls rode with Greg, in his new
Toyota RX-7. Sylvia followed them in her Mustang. Ed and Ann led the
way, in Ed’s Suburban.
The couple lived in a pleasant home on the edge of town. It
looked new. The house was surrounded by trees and they were changing
color as the fall set in. The couple parked their Suburban in their
driveway and Greg and Sylvia parked on the street running in front of
the couple’s home.
Inside, they undressed and shared a shower. The couple had a
gang-type shower, apparently built with just such liasons in mind. Both
men were hard again and everyone washed each other, but, except for an
attentive washing of the loins, there was no sex in the shower. They
emerged refreshed and toweled each other off. The women did up their
hair and applied new makeup while the men retreated together to the
living room and settled bare-assed into cloth covered chairs for a
smoke.
Presently the females emerged from the bathroom. Both men were
pleasantly hard again. There was an air of tension but, except perhaps
for Tabby, who was still a virgin, it was a tension mixed with quiet
pleasure. Ann asked Gwen to help her mix and serve drinks. Tabby
settled onto Greg’s lap. She wedged herself over his penis so that it
ran under her pussy and along the lower crack of her butt. She sat
facing Ed. Greg ran his fingers through her brown hair. First on her
head, and then between her legs.
Tabby wriggled. Sylvia had settled beside Ed and she passed
her hand along the length of his impressive shaft.
“You look full,” she said, gazing down at the weighty balls he
possessed under his dick. They were squashed into the seat of the chair
and pressed in on both sides by his thighs.
“I am,” Ed said. He put his arm around Sylvia’s shoulders.
She let her head rest on his shoulder and sighed.
“Mmmmm, I think it’s going to be a wonderfully long night,”
Slyvia said.
“Drinks, anyone?” Ann asked, emerging from the kitchen. “Ohhh,
a bird in the hand is worth two bushes, I see,” Ann laughed, seeing her
husband’s penis running through Sylvia’s fist. Ann’s pubis was red,
like her hair, and Gwen’s was white-blonde. They both stood with their
hips arched out slightly, as if expecting something perhaps, holding
drink trays.
“I’ll have a daquiri,” Sylvia said. Ann had the drink on her
tray and gave it to her.
“You choose well,” Ann said to her. “You chose what I fixed.”
“I could hear you discussing what to make with Gwen in the
kitchen,” Sylvia laughed.
“I guess we should have asked but... we wanted to make them
quick lest we be left out,” Ann laughed.
“I fixed you lemonade,” Gwen said to Tabitha.
“What?” Tabitha asked.
“She’s kidding, dear, we fixed daquiris for everyone,” Ann
said. “Even for you.”
“And me too,” Gwen said.
Presently, when the drinks had been consumed, and everyone was
feeling agreeable, the two girls with a light buzz in their heads, Ann
suggested that they all head back to the bedroom. Heads nodded. The
men rose, their organs stiff. The females got up, smiling, admiring the
men’s erections with their eyes. Then the women passed their hands over
the men’s tools, took hold of them and, with Ann leading Gwen by the
hand and Sylvia leading Tabitha, each of the women holding one of the
men by his prick, they went down the hall to the bedroom.
The bedcovers were already turned back. A lamp was lit,
casting a dim glow, there was a pile of condoms by the bedside and
bottles of ointment and jelly.
“You girls are on the Pill?” Ann asked.
“Of course, we started last week,” Gwen replied.
A moment’s hesitation. Then, Ed taking Gwen’s arm, he tumbled
into bed with the blonde. He kissed her. She resisted a little, then
relented.
“Get in the bed, dear. It’s time,” Sylvia said to Tabby.
“Oh, I’m not sure I want to!” Tabitha answered. Gwen gave a
small cry as Ed, turning her onto her belly, told her he wanted her
bottom.
“Go easy on her, she’s a virgin back there,” Greg said. He
felt no jealousy. He’d had her twat, and he wanted to fuck Ann. She
was lovely, a redhead. She had large pert bosoms and and beautiful
round ass. But first he would have to break in Tabitha.
“Get in,” he urged Tabitha. He pushed at her small back.
Skittishly she approached the bed, watching as Ed manfully lubed up his
dick. Gwen lay underneath the man, her eyes large, the hind cheeks of
her bottom huddled together like twin overturned bowls of vanilla jello.
Tabitha took to the bed on all fours. Greg gazed at the purse
of her fig, watched as she crawled up to the bed’s headboard, perhaps
hoping to find refuge there. He got in behind her. His dick waggled
beneath him, a great pole of flesh. His balls were full. He kneed his
way into the sheets and reached out his great football hero hands and
took hold of Tabitha’s breasts. She shivered. He lay down, letting his
big penis lie trapped underneath him, sweetly trapped, between the
heaviness of his thighs and the soft sheet of the bed. His balls bulged
between his legs. He suckled on Tabitha’s breasts. The girls sighed.
She let her legs fall open.
“Greg, roll on your side,” Sylvia urged. “I have to lube
you.” Greg complied, still feasting on Tabitha’s virgin tits. To his
delight he felt four female hands come into contact with his groin.
Sylvia’s, and Ann’s. As Tabitha flinched under his kisses the two women
stroked him and applied KY to his organ with knowing finesse. Greg
lifted his head. He felt a thrill pass through his loins at the
redheaded Ann. She would be a choice fuck. He watched her mature
bosoms moving with a gentle, heavy swing on her chest. Then he turned
his face back to Tabby. He took her right nipple into his mouth and,
applying his teeth, he gave it a gentle hickey.
“Oh!” Tabby cried out. It was her first hickey, Greg guessed,
at least in a tender spot like that. She looked down at her bosom and
he moved his mouth to her other tit. She tried to draw back, he held
her. He gave her a small hickey on the areola of her other breast.
“Oh, I am ruined now,” Tabby said. But when Greg moved his
mouth to her neck she didn’t resist. He gave her a hickey there, too,
then placed his mouth full on hers and drove in his tongue.
A minute later and all was in readiness. Greg lay atop Tabby,
mounting her. Beside Tabby, on her belly, lay Gwen. Ed lifted up
Gwen’s bottom and positioned his cockhead over her asshole. Greg,
meanwhile, knelt between Tabby’s legs and felt her bosoms rising and
falling beneath him as she waited on her back for him to enter. The two
women held Tabby’s ankles apart, lest she should resist.
And then the girls were entered. They both gave up yelps,
screamy cries. For both it was a difficult journey. But as the hour
passed they lost their respective virginities, Tabby spilling blood on
the sheet, Gwen not, for Ed went into her back hole with great care.
In the cool of the morning the six of them went for a hike in
the autumn woods. There was a small forest behind the couple’s house,
perfect for such an aventure, and unlikely to be met with by neighbors
so early in the morning. Gwen wore her saddle shoes, and socks loaned
to her by Ann. The men wore their shoes, Ann wore sneakers. Sylvia and
Tabby, not wishing to wear their heels, wore three pairs of socks each,
loaned to them by Ann. The two women each carrie backpacks on their
backs with makeshift clothes, should they be needed.
“Mmmm, smell that crisp autumn air,” Ann said, walking beside
Greg. He smiled. She’d proven as good a fuck as he’d hoped and now she
was right next to him, her large breasts bobbing nakedly, and in time
with the joggling of his nude penis. He was erect, they’d desisted
making love on awakening, preferring a nude breakfast together by the
fireplace and then a walk bare-assed in the woods instead. Ahead of
him, Ed walked hand-in-hand with both Gwen and Tabby. Tabby’s bottom
was still virgin, otherwise all of them in the troupe were now fully
experienced, except that the twin girls hadn’t learned to give head
yet. Greg guessed Ed might teach the girls that skill too and take
Tabby’s bottomhole, but he still felt no jealousy. He had no particular
interest in little girls and Ann was a delightful fuck, not one worth
trading, in his mind, for the hard work of opening up Tabby’s ass.
Sylvia trailed behind, not forgotten, but enjoying, Greg
guessed, the sight of both men’s bare, hairy buns as they walked ahead
of her. She had cut a branch from a birch tree, a slender one, and was
whisking it lightly in the leaves. She carried the knife she’d cut the
branch with in her other hand, blade out.
Beyond the woods was a farm.
“Oh, it looks so lovely!” Gwen cried. She squeezed Ed’s hand.
“I don’t know if anyone lives there,” Ed said. Goats eat the
grass in the meadow, but they may be wild, for all I know. I’ve never
seen the owner.
“Let’s run across the meadow!” Gwen gushed.
“Oh, I don’t think...” Ed said.
“Come on, honey. We’ve never seen anyone living there,” Ann
said. She took off her backpack, carrying half their clothes, and cast
it onto the ground, into the leaves. She stretched. “It feels good to
have that bulky old thing off me. It’s just like you men, to make us
women do all the work!”
“Yes!” Sylvia agreed. She pulled her backpack off her
shoulders. She dropped it into the grass. Then she knelt and carefully
put her knife away inside it. She stood up, picked up her birch stick.
“Let’s run naked across the meadow. Will the goats stab at us with
their horns?”
“No,” Ann said, stroking her fingers over Greg’s balls. “At
least I hope not. Prince Charles met a goat that didn’t like him once,
but these look fairly old and harmless.”
“Well, alright, then,” Ed relented, which was best, since Gwen
was already venturing out into the meadow. “Hardly anyone lives around
us, let alone back here in these fields.” He watched Gwen’s retreating
12-year-old bottom and suddenly darted forward to catch her. She saw
him, ran ahead, he chased her.
A few minutes later the men stood panting. The two of them had
begun to feel their morning coffee in their bladders and they stood
merrily pissing against the side of a tree. The females, snooping
around an old dilapidated barn next to the tree, looked for someplace
where they might go themselves.
“Oh well, I guess we can just kneel down and piss in the
grass,” Ann said finally. She laughed. She knelt in the shade of the
tree. It was getting hot.
A gunshot rang out. Ann looked up with a start. A pair of
birds nesting in the tree above went clattering off through the branches
and into the sky. From around the back of the barn came an old farmer,
dressed in classic overalls and buttoned-up bib. He had a straw hat on
his head and, his hand, he carried a rifle. The blast had been at close
range. Gwen swore she heard a bullet zing past her bottom. All six of
them stood naked and still as he approached, the men even cutting off
the flow of their urine in respect for his sudden presence.
“What d’ye mean to be doin’, peein’ on this here land?” the
farmer asked.
“We... uh... we needed to go,” Ed said.
“Not agin’ a nice tree like that!” the farmer said. “That
there’s part of nature, and you’re defilin’ it!”
“With all due respect, sir, his pee is part of nature too,”
Greg said to the farmer. Tabby stifled a giggle. Gwen tried to, and
failed.
“You’re all just a bunch of smart asses, and ass HOLES too, I
kin see that,” the farmer said angrily. “Git!”
“Yes, sure,” Ann said.
“Not thataway,” the farmer said. “Into the house!”
“The house?” Sylvia asked.
“Yep, that’s where people belong’s that’s undressed. Not
walkin’ around outdoors.”
With the greatest reluctance, persuaded only by the old
farmer’s rifle, the six headed for a farmhouse about a half mile from
the barn. It was a long, slow walk, with the farmer urging them to
hurry and they hoping to find some way to escape him. But, the house
finally looming, they were forced to enter. The front door was open.
They walked right in.
“What?!” a female voice cried inside.
“God Damn! What’re you people doin’ inside o’ my house?!” an
old man’s voice declared.
The farmer came tramping in through the door of the farmhouse
behind the six he was holding prisoner. Indoors, Ed and Greg found
themselves face to face with an elderly man and woman. The girls
huddled close round them.
“We come in peace,” Greg offered, addressing the elderly man.
“But he doesn’t,” Greg said, cocking his thumb at the farmer behind
them.
“I kin see in what frame of mind you cummin’ into my home,
son,” the old man said, looking square at Greg’s cock, perhaps with a
sense of envy. His own had no doubt ceased to be useful in the way that
Greg’s was a long time ago.
“My, my, ain’t that a sight,” the elderly woman said, gazing at
men’s stiff cocks.
“Ebenezer, Eb!” the farmer called, stomping in his boots around
from behind the captured six. He addressed the old man. “These here
nudists was a peein’ on your land, Eb!” the farmer declared.
“My, my,” the elderly woman said.
“Well, ain’t that so,” Eb replied. “And I don’t doubt they had
more on their mind than just peein,’” he added, still looking square at
the two men’s erections.
“I think--” the farmer with the rifle began. “I think, if
they’re gonna be doin’ it, they should at least have the courtesy of
askin’ permission,” the farmer said.
“Hell, yes!” Eb agreed. “In fact, if’n they’re gonna be doin’
it, they can do it right here, where’s we can watch!” He gave the
farmer with the rifle a toothless grin. “Train yore rifle right on
their butts, Eb!”
“I already got it trained real good,” Eb said. “Almost winged
the little one there right in the ass!”
“I told you,” Gwen hissed to Tabitha.
“Look,” Ed said. “Can we go now? It is rather embarrassing to
be caught out in the nude, but we apologize, okay? Give us a bucket if
you like and we’ll throw some water on your tree.”
“You ain’t goin’ nowheres until you city-slicker nudist types
give us poor country folk some of your high-minded entertainment,” Eb
replied. “Us folks cain’t afford to run aroun’ naked and he cain’t
afford no Gol’dang Innernet connection either. We wants some lascivious
sex, right here, right now, right in the living room, yes! The kine ole
Sennator Exon is always decrying, God rest his soul.”
“Look, these two girls are just 12 and 13,” Greg said, pointing
to Tabby and Gwen.
“Thas’ what he’s always decryin’,” Eb replied. “Chillun and
sex! Well, now we’s gonna git some ourselles, God rest our souls, afore
we pass away into the Lord’s care an’ his heavenly paradise wherein they
ain’t got no damn sexx!” The elderly man drew out the word ‘sex,’ as if
savoring a long lost affection. “An throw them damn two wimmen into the
mixture too,” the elderly man added. “For, you know, normal type
purposes, so we don’t all turn into Gol’dang perverts!”
“Well, you heard him,” the farmer with the rifle said. He
jabbed his gun.
“OW!” Gwen cried. He’d poked her in her bottom and the barrel
of his gun was still warm from the shot he’d fired.
“Ain’t ye got a nice one,” the farmer grinned at her. “Almost
winged it, I did!”
“Well don’t poke me with it too!” Gwen said. Her eyes were
wide but she was, at the same time, a little entranced, Greg thought, at
standing here naked in these old folks’ house.
“My, my,” the farmer’s wife declared. Greg could see she would
be no use at all in convincing the men to release them.
“Are you a man of your word, then?” Ed asked the elderly man.
“What?” the elderly man said.
“I said, sir, are you a man of your word?” Ed asked again.
“Why, sure!” the old man answered. “What makes you think I
wouldn’t be a man of my word? All us country folks are! It’s you city
folks likes lyin’ and stealin’.”
“Then let’s shake on a deal,” Ed said.
“Deal? Sure,” the elderly man replied. “But no shakin’ on
it. You’re liable to git the best o’ me and then there’ll be no
perverted sex show.”
“With that little misses’ ass that I almost winged gitten
plenty o’ action,” the farmer with the rifle added.
“Here’s the deal, then, shaking or no,” Ed said. “If we fuck
for you,” he paused. He looked at the four females standing around him
for approval. They nodded. Quietly, docilely, or not at all. He
glanced at Greg. “If we fuck for you, you let us go, okay?”
“Sure, thas’ what we’s sayin’,” the elderly man agreed. “You
fuck, and go too, so’s we kin see those cute little ladies peein’”
“And go home, home free, off of your property and especially
out of your life!”
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” the elderly man agreed. The elderly woman
nodded.
“Do you have vaseline?” Sylvia asked the elderly woman.
“What?” she replied. “Oh... yes, I remember those days now,
yes.” She turned, as if to go fetch it.
“And perhaps a sheet to put over the floor, too,” Slyvia added.
“Yes, yes,” the old woman said, turning, slowly.
“And can we pee, too?” Gwen piped up. The two old farmers
laughed. Gwen scowled. “In privacy,” she added.
“Yes, yes,” the old woman said.
“No, that ye cain’t,’” the elderly man said. “Git them a
chamberpot, maw, let ‘em do a little public peein’ too, jes’ like the
kine Sennator Exon don’t like, God rest his soul.”
And so it was. The six visitors, under the farmer’s well-aimed
gun, put a sheet down onto the floor in the living room and gathered in
the center of it. They were allowed to pee in a chamber pot first, that
the old woman dragged to the side of the room. They dawdled, hoping for
a chance to escape, the two old farmers and the old woman watching,
enjoying the show of the girls squatting over the bowl, in turn, and
then Greg and Ed releasing the rest of their pee, what they hadn’t
already peed against the tree standing across the field by the barn. At
last, all of them having peed, there was no choice but for them to walk
to the center of the room and consider the actual act of fucking.
“I wish he’d put that gun down,” Ed whispered to Greg.
“Sir, could we get you to put the gun down?” Greg asked. The
farmer scowled.
“If’n to please the lady folk, I suppose I may,” the farmer
answered. “But if’n you men think you’ll get an advantage by it, don’t
try. I’ll blow ye fuckin’ dicks off!”
“Yes, of course, thanks,” Greg said.
The elderly woman had passed Sylvia a big tub of vaseline and
now, with some effort, she managed to unscrew the cap. Her naked boobs
wiggled. The two male farmers hooted.
“Let’s make this quick,” Ed said as he Greg gathered around
her. Ann and Gwen and Tabitha reached into the tub of vaseline to help
her grease the men’s penises.
“Hey, we cain’t see!” the old farmer with the rifle said,
lifting his gun.
“Sorry,” Ed said. He made the group spread out a little, to
give the elderly couple and their depraved friend a view.
Greg shivered as the females applied lubricant to his penis.
He was painfully stiff. He felt excited by the idea of fucking like
this, in public, in front of the old people, with a gun on them lest
they fail to keep the lewd bargain they’d made with the old man named
Eb.
Ed, with a nickname similar to the old man’s, but years
younger, seemed to share Greg’s strange enthusiasm. He grinned at
Greg.
“Sorry to get you into this jam, friend, but if we survive this
with our balls still attached we’ll remember this for the rest of our
lives,” Ed said.
“Yeah,” Greg replied. He felt a tremble run through him as he
watched Gwen’s small hands, and Tabitha’s and Ann’s and Sylvia’s pass in
turn all over his huge member. The girls seemed as perversely excited
about their situation as he was. Their nipples stood up erect, their
hips weaved back and forth a little in anticipation.
The farmer with the gun cleared his throat.
“Now first,” he said. “First we want you to jack off,” the
farmer said.
“What?” Ed asked.
“Jack off,” the farmer said. “Go ahead, little ladies. Two of
you grab hold of those big dicks and jes’ whack away at ‘em. Less’n
you’d rather seen ‘em blown away,”
“This is ridiculous,” Sylvia said to Ann.
“Let’s just do as they say,” Ann replied. She took hold of
Greg’s penis.
Reluctantly, Sylvia took hold of Ed’s.
“I’ll bet I can hold out longer than you,” Greg said to Ed.
“Thanks,” Ed replied.
Ann looked at Sylvia. “Let’s do it,” she said.
Slowly, deliberately, the two women began to frig the two men.
Back and forth, their gripping palms easily sliding up and down on the
men’s stiffly presented cocks.
“Mmmm,” Greg grimaced. He looked over at Ed. “Your wife has a
sexy touch,” he said.
“That’s why you’ll cum first,” Ed replied.
Gwen and Tabby, standing alongside the spectacle and watching,
placed their hands quietly over their privates. Not to frig themselves,
however, but to enjoy at least a moment’s modesty from the farmer’s
prying eyes.
“Git yore hands busy, lil’ ones!” the farmer with the gun
bellowed. The girls both leapt, startled, then took their hands away
from their privates.
“What do you want us to do?” Gwen asked.
“Stick them vaselined fingers o’ yourn in yonder buttholes,”
the farmer replied. “By that I mean the men, o’ course.”
So the girls did. Greg and Ed, never having been bungholed
before, were forced to endure the girl’s small fingers poking into their
behinds. At the demand of the farmer, they both bent their knees
slightly, to give the girls better access. Tabby put her free hand
under Greg’s balls and squeezed them.
“Don’t!” Greg hissed. But the farmer liked the gesture and
insisted Gwen copy Tabby.
Ed grimaced. The buggering little Gwen was giving him and her
inexpert squeezing of his balls was blowing his mind. And Sylvia,
perhaps hoping to hurry the show, and more quickly earn their freedom,
wasn’t cutting him any slack. She used every trick she knew with her
hands to get him to cum. She even bent over and blew on him with her
mouth. Oblivious to the vaseline smeared all over his dick, she kissed
and licked it.
Greg was prey to Ann’s hands. She was equally savvy and seemed
to enjoy competing in her arsenal of female tricks with Sylvia.
Together, looking across at each other, the two grinned and set to
work. Ann would try something and Sylvia would copy her, each learning
new procedures on the spot from the other. Meanwhile, Tabby and Gwen,
looking around from behind the two men’s bodies, kept drilling their
sticky little fingers into their holes. They squeezed the men’s balls
lustily.
With a roar Ed suddenly spurted out his sperm. It flew onto
Sylvia’s belly and she passed round in front of him to try a new trick
with his penis. She laughed. Ann, watching, laughed and yanked yard on
Greg’s penis to urge him to cum alongside her husband. And, relenting,
knowing it was silly to fight on, to fight on as a captive of some dumb
farmer, he let his sperm spew out and all over the floor.
Such should have been the end of it, for the six were
grudgingly released by the farmers. The one with the rifle insisted on
accompanying them back across the field. He bid goodbye to them at the
edge of the wood, still swearing at them, still calling them city folk.
They had peed and jacked off for him, nothing else had been needed. The
farmer’s wife had seemed satisifed at seeing the two men cum and
declared that was enough unGodliness in her house.
“An If’n I ever catch ye agin’, I’ll demand much more than that
ole hag did,” the farmer told Ed and Greg and girls.
“I’m sure you will,” Greg agreed.
“Ole hag shoulda kep’ ye at it,” the farmer said.
Somehow, that old farmer’s last words, though they served as a
warning, served instead as an unconscious inspiration. For the six of
them, walking home through the woods that day, still nude, not bothering
with clothing, though they had regained their backpacks, decided to
spend more days like this, walking nude in forbidden places, risking the
chance of getting caught.
“It was delicious,” Ann admitted. “I’ve never felt so
thrilled, and so horrified at the same time.”
“I’m just glad I got out of there with my fanny intact,” Gwen
said.
Despite their fears, they spent the next month travelling.
They forgot entirely their previous lives. The girls did not go home.
They were reported missing but they didn’t care. Ed and Ann didn’t even
bother to do anything more than lock up their house. They left the
lights on, their morning mail they even left lying in their mailbox.
Greg and Sylvia considered going back to their apartments, just briefly,
but decided against it. They were in a similar position to the girls.
They had ‘significant others’ at home who might forbid them to leave
again.
The six of them loaded up Ed and Ann’s Bronco. They parked
they headed South, walking and playing nude wherever they could.
As it inevitably must have, their money finally ran out. But
ever since that day when they’d shed their backpacks for a nude run
across the field, they seemed to have lost something, and gained
something, for instead of doing the sensible thing they stayed on. And
that’s when they met the man everyone in Columbia called ‘The
Conquistador.’
He admired the females from America. He was not put off by the
virility of the two American men. He welcomed the six into his home,
offering them lodging for free. He let them walk in his gardens in the
nude, in fact he insisted. And he offered them the luxury of his
banquet table, and of his bedrooms, stocked with fine linen, and of his
assiduous servants.
But whenever the Americans asked to leave, just for a day trip,
a trip into town, he always put them off. He was, as they’d suspected,
a drug lord, and although the six never saw drugs in the house they
guessed they were grown not far away, for the air smelled sweet with
poppies. And so every day when they asked if they might depart, even
just for a day, the Conquistador put them off, pleasantly at first, then
a little less so, until the four at last realized they were captives.
And then, when they realized it, the Conquistador made them officially
his captives, and forbade them to leave.
Greg looked at the two young females sleeping on either side of
him in the plush bed. A fragrance of poppies came in through the open
window, rustling the saffron drapes. The girls were 13 and 14 now, both
teens. He stroked their bottoms. They were soft and smooth as satin.
Every day he and they had to perform sexually for the sultan, in two’s
or three’s or as a group. Greg turned his head. He kissed Gwen on the
top of her head. Like her, he wore an iron collar around his neck. It
was chained to the headboard with a chain.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly to Gwen. He knew it had been all
his fault that she’d wound up here, and Tabitha too. He turned to look
at the girl.
She raised her eyes, regarded him softly. They still had the
old fire deep in them, though he was used to it now. He felt
responsible for her rather than infatuated with her, though he still,
not wanting to miss ‘the best dish of his life,’ as he once called her,
fucked her daily. She was, indeed, a wonderful fuck, and Ann too, and
Sylvia. Here he was well provided for, and highly regarded by the
Conquistador as an American football hero, but he was also a captive.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Tabby. She smiled. She snuggled
closer to him.
“Don’t be,” she said.
“Why not?” Greg asked. “I took you away from your home, your
family. I nearly got you shot at that farm and now I’ve gotten you
turned into a love slave.”
“Shhhh,” I know,” Tabby replied. She stroked his cock. It
rose under her touch.
“Well, didn’t I?” Greg asked angrily.
“Dwight!” Greg turned. “Dwight!”
“Yes, Mr. Talbot,” Dwight answered, and he remembered his name
wasn’t Greg at all, but Dwight, and it was just as well, he supposed,
for his daydream had ended rather stupidly, with himself taken captive
and forced to be a sex slave and fuck his brains out every day with
underage minor females. (And women too.)
A heavy-set man with a very large stomach came waddling up to
him. Despite his stomach and his waddle the man was 6’ 2” in height.
Dwight was considerably shorter.
“Dwight, as the team’s water boy, I don’t expect you to spend
the whole game standing in this locker room admiring your skinny ass in
that mirror! Get out on the field and get some work done, boy!” the man
growled.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Dalton! Sorry, sir!” Dwight babbled. He had a
bucket of water next to his leg, he realized, and he remembered filling
it up before he’d stopped to pose and posture alone in front of the
mirror while the team was out on the field. As Dwight hurried forward
with his bucket, he tripped. There was nothing on the floor for him to
trip over except his own two feet but he tripped over them anyway, and
as he went sprawling the bucket he was carrying went flying too, and
landed in a splash on Mr. Dalton’s shoes.
“Oops! I’m sorry, Mr. Dalton,” Dwight said from a prone
position on the floor. He adjusted his glasses on his face. Thanks to
the strap he always wore with his glasses, they hadn’t gone flying. And
then pens were still securely in his pocket protector in his front shirt
pocket.
“Your shoes have dirt on them, Mr. Dalton,” Dwight said. “Dirt
from the field, I see.” Struggling forward, still obsequiously on his
belly, crawling forward like a snake, Dwight pulled a handkerchief that
he used to clean his glasses from his pocket and began to rub it across
Mr. Dalton’s shoes.
“God Damn, if you aren’t the poorest, stupidest water boy I
have ever hired from the freshman class,” Mr. Dalton swore. Dwight
looked up at him, still rubbing his shoes with his handkerchief. “I
don’t give a rat’s ass about my damn shoes, boy! They’re supposed to be
dirty! It’s football, for God sakes, and I’m the coach! Get your own
shoes out there and get them dirty doing some WORK!”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Dalton,” Dwight announced. He leaped to his
feet and saluted and then bent and reached for his bucket. He grabbed
it up and went running out the door of the locker room.
In the hall were two girls, one about 12, the other 13.
Through a window they were peering at the team on the field. The
12-year-old had long blonde hair and the 13-year-old had hair so dark it
was almost black. Dwight, with a rising sense of guilt, noticed that
the girls both had wonderfully heart-shaped bottoms and their skirts,
which were skirts worn by girls in Catholic school, appeared to have
been artificially shortened. But as Dwight hurried past the girls,
carrying his bucket, girls did not turn around.
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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