Message-ID: <4784eli$9710111953@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/4784.txt> From: mouthbrthr@aol.com (MouthBrthr) X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: Mint Green Part II (only) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-Id: <19971011102501.GAA00276@ladder02.news.aol.com> The cute disclaimer and my ramblings appear in Part I. Hopefully, there aren't to many typos (I did proofreed a luttle--ha ha). ***** I would describe the bedroom, but my attention was focused on its occupants. I once temped in an office where I was the only man in the secretarial pool. During a discussion of the movie "Showgirls"--don't ask--one of my coworkers said, "I've never been able to figure this out: why do all porn movies have a lesbian scene? What's the turn on?" "Women coming in stereo," was the typically graphic reply of another secretary. "Not really," I said, as the self-appointed representative of my side of the species. "All men wonder what it's like." "Having sex with two women?" "No, being a woman having sex with another woman. The fantasy of being a lesbian." My fellow workers "hmmphed" thoughtfully, quietly returned to their meals, and I realized I had no idea what "all men" see in a lesbian scene. Instead, I just spilled my guts on a personal fantasy. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Watching two people, madly in love, entwine just a few feet in front of me was bittersweet, despite my fantasy or my arousal. I was violating their sanctum, their true intimacy. I glanced down to the floor. Gwen had dropped her unidentifiable device at her feet, and kicked it away as she and Kyle slowly circled, kissing and caressing, making their way toward their bed. The forgotten sex-toy invited inspection. Hoping I could learn my fate, I quietly walked over and picked it up, or at least tried to. There was no central mass to the thing, and cords and buckles kept spilling to the floor. Whatever it was, the maker cared about the wearer's comfort. There were cuffs of various sizes, and fasteners to tighten, but all were cushioned with foam. The device, then, was not designed for pain, and I inwardly sighed relief. A wet moan drew my attention. Gwen sprawled luxuriantly on the bed. Kyle pressed up close beside her, nuzzling and murmuring into her ear, one hand tracing circles on Gwen's stomach, the other sandwiched between her thighs. Gwen arched her neck, teeth flashing, as she fumbled a hand through Kyle's hair. I could have watched them forever, but while the surge of blood through my groin battled with the knot of embarrassment in my stomach, my brain took over. Again, I tried to deduce my role in their fantasy. The bed, while bigger than any king size, was unadorned; no bedposts to lash me to. The walls were decorated tastefully, with paintings and shelves for vases; nothing apparent to chain me to Resting her head on a arm, Kyle looked into Gwen's eyes. "Are you ready?" she asked, her other hand still lazily toying with her partner's cleft. "God yes," came the quiet reply. They slid of the bed. Gwen went to scoop up the device as Kyle marched her juggernaut-female form down upon me. I stood my ground the best I could. When she came close, I smelled musk and sweat. She smiled, reached out, and gently turned me around, so that my back faced her. They began to bind me. It started, as I expected, with a male-corset. Gwen's massive arms reached around my belly and snapped the thing around me. It was like an manic cummerbund, and held me fast, but not constrictively. The two women stepped close. I could feel their breath on my neck and back as they clipped and strung the thing across my body. They work quickly, excitedly, circling me, turning me about. I entered a dizzying world of reaching arms, caressing hands, brushing hair and flesh. My field of vision would suddenly fill with dancing eyes or a bitten lip, then I'd be turned about and hugged by two sets of great, soft arms as wide as my thighs. I cannot speak for all men, but for me, the state of acute arousal just before orgasm is an exact sensation. Focused precisely on the head of my penis, it is a brief, sweet, stinging pressure that then crashes over into surges of release. My blood sang with this sweetness, but prolonged, as if I were fourteen years old again, and I could bring myself to near orgasm with my imagination alone. Gwen suddenly turned to Kyle, lip trembling. She said, with forced evenness, "It's on backwards." The trembling, I realized, was held-back laughter. A cluster of clips, straps, and rings dangled from the binder around my belly. So this stuff goes on my back, I thought. What are they going to do? Hang me from a chandelier, or bungee-jump me off the roof? I endured the incredible experience again, twice, once to remove it, and again to get it right. Without Gwen and Kyle's giggling to break the tension, I swear I would have swooned. At last, they stepped back, apparently finished. I was bound at the waist and chest. Cuffs ran down both my legs, but only my upper arms and not my wrists. In fact, I did not seem restricted at all. With some of the device still trailing behind me, I circled about the room, craning my neck to look backward, feeling like a dolt. Kyle vaulted onto the bed (it strained to catch her, even with it's reinforced steel frame), and stood up on its edge. Her head almost bumped the ceiling. Gwen lead me over to the bed, and stood me on a footstool right below Kyle. The tuft of Kyle's pubic hair tickled my nose, the air heady. I was turned around. I felt the tug of the cords behind me, as Gwen began to affix me to Kyle. I risked a quick twist to see. Kyle was wearing cuffs on her legs and upper arms, too, connected by a handful of umbilicals to my own. Soon, the tension on the cords between me and Kyle became quite tight, and Gwen came around to face me. On the footstool, I came up to her neck. I tried to follow her face, but my eyes kept returning to the spectacular valley below, now shiny with sweat. She reached into my armpits and held me up, as easily as a toddler, and pressed my back close against Kyle's flesh. Kyle's breasts burned against my ears, muffling the world. As Gwen held me there, Kyle synched up the straps. My upper arms were tied to her upper arms, my legs were lashed to her legs, the binder was attached to her thick belt, straps were wound about our chests, and she wore me like a reverse backpack. Eureka! I thought. Then: oh my God… Kyle had to lie down for Gwen to make the final adjustments. This little maneuver proved far less graceful than the others, and she and I flopped onto the bed, my head bouncing hard off her left breast, surely bruising it. I started to say, "Sorry!" but I remember the rules and hoped everything was okay. Laying there with me on top of her, my head wedged between her breasts, by buttocks firmly pressing to the lower swell of her tummy, my erection (bordering on painful now) rising over a foot into the air, Kyle burst into wild giggles. I should have known. Gwen reached over, tightening cords and snapping fasteners in place, the weight of her breasts making delicious dents in my skin. "Done," she gasped. Kyle stood up, testing me out. I lurched into the air. My arms were mostly free, especially from the elbow down, but every other bit of me echoed her every move. Proving my geek-hood, I instantly recalled the final battle scene from Aliens: Sogourney Weaver strapped into the anthropomorphic cargo loader. Just like it, I thought, but in reverse. "Does it work?" Gwen asked, lying down on the bed. Kyle stretched tentatively. I was sure I'd strain a tendon, but the device worked remarkably; I was secure but comfortable. "Fabulously," said Kyle, and she (and I) joined Gwen on the bed. Kyle crawled across Gwen, predatorial and feline. I was rewarded with a long, slow ogle, starting with Gwen's strong thighs, then the curve of her hips, her outie belly-button, the soft rise of her waist, and the impossible diameter of her chest. Kyle leaned down for another kiss, and I saw that chest point-blank. Grinning wickedly, Kyle said, "When my brother said, 'One night with a dick will straighten you out,' I don't think this is what he had in mind." Gwen wrapped her arms about Kyle's neck. "Shut up and fuck me, " she growled. Kyle swiveled her hips, and manhandled me into position. "Slow," whispered Gwen "I promise," Kyle said, propping herself on her hands, and I entered. If the heat without Gwen's body was a furnace, the heat within was the sun. Kyle guided me in and out of Gwen's rippled warmth in a mind-melting rhythm. Gwen rocked with her, matching her, like they had done this a million times before. The total lack of control while being on top, the utter newness and alienness of the whole situation was the only thing holding the sweet pressure from crashing over. "More," gasped Gwen. Although I was not ready, Kyle quickened her pace, and dropped down onto Gwen to feast upon her lips. I was trapped in a writhing prison of flesh. I turned my head to prevent breaking my nose against Gwen's breastbone. I mouthed around their breasts for air, tasting their salt, as their hearts drummed in my ears. We (they) rolled over, and I saw light and felt the cool air again. Without a word, Gwen straddled me, and mounted. My entire waist disappeared between their hips. Gwen place her hands on Kyle's shoulders, and buck frenziedly, like there was an itch deep inside her that I just managed to scratch. I felt a hand wriggle down my thigh and into the cleft on top of which my testicles perched, protected by a plastic cup. Again, my world narrowed into a flesh-mad fantasy realm. Huge breasts rocking and bumping into my chin and lips. A gigantic, plush mouth wetly parted. A frame of wild blond hair. My manhood enveloped in molten softness. The throaty purrs of two beautiful women. Women in stereo. I crashed over into release. Gwen's bucking slowed, and she plopped downward, plunging me into pillowy darkness again. "Did you come?" I heard Gwen ask, as if miles away. "He's in the way, I couldn't tell." "Oh, yes," said Kyle. "Did you." "No," murmured Gwen. "Not yet." I was in trouble. Gwen and Kyle untangled. Kyle rolled across the bed, nearly flattening me in the process, my softening penis protesting from the unwanted stimulation. Thankfully, she ended up on her back. Gwen stood, reached into her vagina, and pulled out a glistening, filmy pouch; a female condom. "I'll be right back," she sing-songed, strolling out of the room. Take your time, I almost squeaked, but swallowed hard instead. Kyle and I lay there, panting for a while, until she noticed my flagging erection. "Hmmm," she said, reaching down, "so this is what it's like to jerk off." Her hands encircled my girth with only a little difficulty, and she began a steady, strong massage up and down my length. Still oozing, I just lay there, convinced I needed a few months to recuperate. "I need some help with this!" Kyle called. Gwen came back, hands on her hips. "Hey, you used to go all night." "That was before I gained all this weight," Kyle said, giggling again, "and when I was made out of rubber." "We'll see," said Gwen, and she joined us on the bed. Now I had four hands encircling me, caressing my entire length. I stirred. Gwen let go, and sandwiched my penis between her breasts. She squeezed and shimmied while Kyle continued her unrelenting massage. I rose from the dead. Gwen climbed back on the disheveled bed, on all fours. Kyle rose to her knees and waddled behind her, and I was presented with Gwen's massive, spherical derriere. With no warning, Kyle thrust upward and plunged me in. Gwen gave a sharp cry as Kyle moved in long strokes, wrapping one arm about Gwen's waist, cupping the other hand against Gwen's clitoris. I was crushed and rolled across Gwen's cheeks. "Oh. God. Oh! God!" Gwen shuddered once, twice, then relaxed around me, and sunk into the bed. "Enough, enough." Kyle withdrew, and fell backwards onto the bed. She picked her head up. "Show me what it's like to get a blow job," she grinned. Still catching her breath, Gwen returned the grin and wedged herself between my and Kyle's thighs. She open her mouth wide and feverishly kissed and sucked, unable to take me deep into her mouth, but swallowing my shaft in her breasts. The sweet pressure rose quickly, stung smartly, and crashed early. She rolled over, and we all lay quietly for a while. To my ears, the greatest sound was Kyle's breathing, like the roar of bellows. "You can speak now, Kevin," came Gwen's voice, deep within a down pillow. "Easy for you to say, " I squeaked. "Would you like your money now?" asked Kyle, her voice rumbling deep within her chest. "Is that all you think about?" I said Gwen laughed, sitting up. "Sometimes, it is." Kyle gave Gwen a Bronx cheer. "I need a shower," Gwen declared. "Ooh!" cried Kyle, sitting up too suddenly "Me too!" "Take me off first!" I pleaded. ****** Well, that's it. I've carried that fantasy around in the closet of my mind for almost 8 years now, and soon I'm about to spill it out into the public, irreversibly. Depending on how badly my ego is wounded by this experience, I will write more. I created 'Mouth Breather' for exactly this purpose: to unload my childhood sexuality onto the unsuspecting public, hoping to finally develop a post-Freudian fantasy life. However, I have no intentions on writing "The Further Adventures of Maglight," but since I'm launching this story into the void of public domain, do with it as you will. I hope you like it. Many people responded to Part I. I apologize to those I left hanging. See you around, Mouth Breather -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /