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Subject: Mint Green Part II (only)
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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

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