Jardonn's Erotic Tales.com

Jack's Insertions


a single man's guide to a happy marriage


how I became Mrs. Johnson's bull lover


 August 2006

First entry
August 21, 2006 -
As you probably know, assuming you have listened to Uncle Jasper and me in our "Suckin' Spit & Talkin' Shit' episodes, I was seduced by one Frank Johnson. At least that's how I remember it. He might feel as though he was coerced by both Jasper and me to soften his conservative attitude towards us and our broadcast, but whatever, the end result is that Mr. Johnson and Jasper and myself have an ongoing understanding.
All that has happened since the day Frank chose me over Jasper is worthy of its own telling, and in the next few days I will be making entries to this log until we are up to date. Then, I will add to it when something of note happens between us.
Yes, I did get his telephone number. No, Jasper never did get his lecherous hands on it. The following day, and every weekday for the next several, Frank and I would use our one-hour lunch breaks to meet at my apartment, where he would receive my stress-relieving BJ. In return, I would receive his manual, strong-but-caring strokes to drain my testicles.
Now, one might think that this would be enough satisfaction for any queer man/married man arrangement, and even though for me it was, for Frank it was not.
He never asked about anal intercourse, which is good because it did not interest me, but rather, he guided me in another direction. He introduced me to his wife. Together, they have introduced me to a world I never before dared to consider, and, much like Navy John was to the young Jasper, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are rapidly becoming my mentors. My insertions will take you there with me.
August 22
Frank and I had carried on for nearly three months before he threw me the curve - he asked me to come for dinner - to his home - with his wife.
"Uh, geez, Frank," I stumbled. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"Sure. There's nothing to worry about. Our relationship is solid. In fact, I've already told her about you."
This did not necessarily please me. "Shit, man, don't you think you should have let me know you planned to tell her? And by the way, what did you tell her?"
"Nothing about this. I told her you came in to apply for a broadcast license and that we started talking about football. She thinks you and I are in the same fantasy league. That's all."
I let it go at that. I figured I knew enough about football to hold this charade together, and besides, Frank and I are fanatics of the NFL and discuss it often. What the hell. If something was said; if one of us slipped up, it could only hurt Frank and the missis. As for me, that would be the end of Frank and I'd have some good memories to take with me, assuming I got out of their house intact before his outraged, heartbroken wife extracted my blood. It has never been my desire to be a home wrecker. I can only assume a man looking for blowjobs knows how to handle his own marital situation.
All went well, but imagine my surprise when, during our after-dinner coffee and slices of cheesecake, Laura Johnson said to me, "So, Jack, Frank tells me you are quite skilled at sucking his dick."
August 23
Mercifully, they only allowed my irregular heartbeat to continue for a few seconds, then Laura and Frank Johnson burst into laughter.
"Let me congratulate you, Jack," Laura said. "That cock of his is hard to handle and I'm not very good at it - not with my mouth, anyway."
Frank joined in. "Besides, she doesn't enjoy sucking on it and I quit asking her."
"I told him to go find somebody who knew what they were doing," Laura said.
"Yep. And I struck gold when I found you, Jack."
"Well, damn, Laura," I was finally allowed to speak. "Frank said your relationship was solid. He wasn't kidding."
They both joined me on the couch, forcing me into the middle between them, and Frank said, "Laura has many talents and we share all secrets. One of them is downstairs. Want to see it?"
"Sure, Frank. You've got me all excited. See?"
"Come on," Laura said.
They escorted me to the basement. It was a full, finished space with a roomy, 10-foot ceiling, carpeting, furniture, the works. Standing against one wall was a wooden frame, black in color. The height was at least nine feet. Two horizontal boards crossed the top, leather straps dangling from one, chains dangling from the other. On one side, two sets of wooden stocks ran from the front to the back of the frame, while on the other side, two boards connected front to back, corner to corner, forming the letter "X".
"Come on, Jack," Frank said. "It's got rollers underneath. Help me move it."
We brought the frame to an open area in the center of the room.
August 26
While I undressed, Laura taunted her husband. "Why do you constantly disappoint me? You know what my flogger can do. You know how it can shred your skin."
As she spoke, she also toyed with him, draping the suede leather strands across his shoulder, then slowly dragging them down his chest. She circled him, stalked him, threatening to strike, but only teasing with brush strokes down his back or chest. Frank remained erect on his knees, arms hanging limp with mouth silent.
"You must enjoy the pain," she continued. "Otherwise, why would you disobey me? Huh? Why, Frank? Answer my question."
He looked up at her, not with eyes of remorse as I expected, but with a look of hatred. "Because I like it, that's why. He's a professional. You are pathetic. I did it, and I'll do it again. Nothing will change my mind."
She let the flogger fly, striking him with medium force across his chest, stomach, arms, back and shoulders. He never made a move or a sound, just remained upright with arms at his sides while staring at the ceiling. After about a dozen blows, she turned to me.
"Jack," she hesitated for a few seconds and scrutinized my body, smiling at me with a rather lustful gaze. "Go to my cabinet. On the left wall are two padded cuffs. Bring them to me."
As I followed her orders, she berated her husband with a new round of flogging. "All right, mister. Sure, you can take my blows, and you will. But we will see how tough you are when your skin is stretched; when I bring those nerve endings to the surface. You will regret your obstinance, and it won't be from the pain alone. No, no, no, I have other ways of cutting you down to size."
Again, Frank took his beating like a man, silent, motionless. I found the cuffs. They were padded inside, black leather outside, with a metal O-shaped ring attached to each. I brought them to her and she told me to clamp them onto his wrists, while she continued flaying away on his back. After figuring out how to release the latch, I opened one, knelt in front of him and took his hand. First, I secured the cuff, then I clamped it shut and repeated the process for his other wrist. When I was finished, I stood and Laura stopped the beating.
Laura circled in front of her husband. "If you move, I'll give it to you with all my strength. This was just a warm-up."
She took me by the arm, led me towards the frame. "Jack, see those two chains?"
"Yes." They dangled a few inches beneath a horizontal board at the top. Attached to the final link of each were metal hooks.
"Those O-rings go on the hooks. He won't fight you. Get him up there."
I grabbed Frank's arm and he voluntarily stood, then cooperatively walked with me to the frame. I lifted the arm and connected the O-ring of his cuff to the suspended hook. To repeat the process with his other arm, I had to pull his body upwards with it. When hooked, Frank was suspended from the top of the frame, arms spread about three and a half feet apart and tips of his shoes barely touching the floor.
Seeing this man suspended, shirtless, helpless, did something to me. Even though I had seen him shirtless many times before, suddenly the beauty of his chest and belly was magnified. And when Laura resumed flogging his back, my penis, which had been erect since Frank and Laura had first surrounded me on their couch, began to discharge its syrup. I guess you could say I was getting into the right frame of mind for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's little playroom.
"How does it feel now? Still think you're tough?" She intensified the strength of her blows, circling to strike his back, rib cage, chest and belly. As for Frank, he was beginning to feel it. Slight moans came with each blow. He threw his head back, then jolted it forward to glare at her. Frank was still defiant, but beginning to soften.
The whipping stopped and Mrs. Johnson barked an order to turn the screws on him just a bit more.
"Jack, strip him."
August 28
I removed everything from him, starting with the shoes and ending with his boxers, which I violently yanked to the floor with great pleasure. His penis was swollen to about one-half its potential and I was tempted to bring it to full force with my oral expertise. Instead, I stayed with the game, backed off to admire our chained prisoner and waited for the woman in charge to direct the proceedings.
Silently, she circled behind him and laid the flogger to his ass. This time it was a bit more forceful, or so it seemed to me. Her arm reared back and flayed his butt cheeks with a definitive smack, causing Frank to let out deafening groans, uh's and ow's.
I never expected that such a scenario would stimulate me, especially since the victim was a man I admired and considered my friend. But seeing that his punishment had triggered an erection on him as hard as I had ever seen it made me realize that this beating was a major turn-on for him. Knowing this, combined with the sight of him flexing his muscular body, nearly caused me to jack myself right then and there.
I was quickly distracted, however, by Laura's harsh voice berating her husband. "All right. You like to get you dick sucked. Well, that's fine, darling. I understand your problem."
She stopped the flogging and stood in front of him, then spoke to me with menacing sweetness. "Jack, do your thing. Work on that throbbing cock of his, but when I stop, you stop."
I knelt before my temple, opened my mouth and engulfed his beautiful penis, while Laura put the flogger to his chest.
"Yes, my darling," she tormented him. "You can receive Jack's services... when I say you can. But there is a price to pay."
She moved behind him and resumed punishing his back and buttocks. "From this day forward, when you feel the warmth of Jack's mouth, the scraping of his tongue, you will also feel the wrath of my flogger to go with it. No longer will you feel one without the other."
This was hot. I could feel Frank's dick surging with power each time the leather strips snapped against his skin. Glancing up, I absorbed the sight of his masculine chest and belly, as it flexed and contorted in reaction to her blows, but just as my pace intensified and I prepared to drain him, Laura shouted, "That's enough!" and the beating stopped. I obediently abandoned Frank's primed cock and gleefully watched it rise and fall in mid-air, wondering what happened to my finishing touch.
"No," he pleaded with her. "Don't stop now. Let him finish me."
"Oh, you poor thing. I'm so sorry. You know I cannot allow you to finish. Not until you have asked me properly."

Before the pitiful man could respond, she resumed her whipping on him and I resumed my sucking on him, until again she stopped and I released his tortured cock.

Frank howled once more, begging for release. His tone, however, was not one of politeness, and so the pattern was established. This man would be broken. The only question was how long did he want his agonizing denial to continue. I hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon.
August 29
Frank did not disappoint me. His stamina was amazing, as he repeatedly withstood his wife’s punishing flogger and my teasing tongue. Oh, he begged, but not in a manner suitable to a man who had been humbled. His pleadings were of the “Oh, god, don’t stop now. Finish me, damn you.” ilk, never once expressing remorse or hinting of surrender. He remained defiant, which is just how I’d hoped he would be, and with each round of punishment-followed-by-denial, Frank was brought closer to the edge. Several times I sensed his nuts start to contract, forcing me to release his cock before his wife had finished whipping him.
I also was pushed to the brink. I was forced to take great care that I didn’t touch my own penis, because any friction whatsoever would have triggered my own explosion. Sensing that she had pushed both of her men about as far as they could go, Laura dropped her flogger and stood in front our prisoner. He was breathing hard and had worked up a pretty good sweat. She placed her fingers onto his sternum, removed some of that sweat and tasted it, then scooped another sample and gave her fingers for me to lick. Knelt just behind her left leg, I sucked her digits dry, savoring the taste of this man.
“Did you see that, Frank?” She mocked him. “Jack knows how to please a woman. He knows how to perform the tasks I ask of him. He respects me, but you continue to defy me.”
She picked up the flogger and used it to tease him, dangling and brushing the strands along the length of his pulsating cock. Moving the flogger beneath his scrotum, she tormented him with brush strokes to his swollen nuts. “Are you still horny, Frank?”
“You... can see that I am.”
“There it is again. I ask a simple yes or no question and you respond with sarcasm. That’s fine. Men who are loyal to me get their reward. Men who defy me must suffer.” She brought the strands down on top of his hard dick, striking with medium force, which caused a pained yelp from her victim. “That’s you, Frank.” She struck him again for emphasis. “You can just hang there and watch Jack get his reward. I have needs too, you know.”
She turned and violently grabbed my arm, pulled me to the floor near Frank’s feet and forced me to lie on my back. Within seconds, for the first time since my initial, high school-aged experimentation of the confused, my rock hard, fully primed, queer cock was inside a female vagina.
August 30
Laura Johnson sat on me, riding up and down my pole. The shock of it, the sudden realization that I was somewhere I did not want to be, caused my dick to lose its strength. But then, I was distracted by Frank, as he howled in protest. “Damn you to hell. Get off of him, you two-timing whore.”
Oh, my god. The view was magnificent. My head was directly in front of his left foot and I took in the glorious male form above me; his bulbous testicles, filled with semen, ready to explode; his powerful cock, fully erect with pre-cum dribbling from its slit; his upper body, torturously suspended, muscular belly flattened and mighty chest expanded; and the determined face of defiance, hatefully staring down at his conniving wife.
“That’s right, Frank.” Laura taunted him. “He’s my boy toy now. Bet you didn’t know that Jack is more man than you’ll ever be.”
Jesus Christ, I was confused. For so many years, I’d convinced myself that pussy was not my thing, but Frank’s performance above me prevented my thoughts from dwelling on it. He strained against his suspension, slightly lifting his body upwards. He thrust his chest forward, sucked his belly inward. His hard penis bounced in mid-air, sending a droplet of ooze down to land on my chest. I scooped it with my finger and tasted its sweetness. His head dropped forward and the eyes had switched their focus to me. His teeth were exposed in a grimace, but the lips hinted at a grin. His muscles flexed for me. His voice groaned for me. His masculinity inspired me. And the warm, tight, frictional massaging of his wife’s vagina masturbated me.
Frank thrust his leg forward and placed his toes onto my mouth. I reached with both hands, clasped onto his ankle and slobbered all over the sole of his foot. My tongue raced in between his toes, while my hands ruthlessly rubbed his shin and calf, absorbing the feel of his manly hairs.
Laura grabbed his other foot and started to lick and kiss. I continued to work on his left foot, while unknowingly reaching with my left hand to clasp onto Laura’s breast. She called out my name. I called out Frank’s name. Laura shrieked with delight. I groaned with ecstasy, and Frank displayed his gloriously tortured physique for both of us to enjoy.
Keeping my spent penis inside her, Laura cast her husband’s foot aside and leaned down to kiss my chest. I continued to kiss Frank’s foot and he said the words. “Federal dollars.”
“Ok, honey,” Laura answered. “Are you ready to come down?”
“No, but I’m ready to get off.”
“That’s you, Jack. Go for it.”
I was there in a second and Frank fired his load in about fifteen, suspended by his wrists, flexing and contorting every muscle in his beautiful body.
They insisted I spend the night. It was a Friday and Jasper was out of town on vacation, so with no need to do one of his recordings, I stayed. They also insisted I join them for an evening swim. In the Johnson back yard, surrounded by a wooden privacy fence ten feet in height was a rectangular pool perfect for a hot August evening. Here, naked, we swam, and we talked, and we dined on food and drink prepared by the wife. I was given many details about their lives together. Their history, their relationship, public and private, all was explained to me with words and the affections of human touch.
August 31
It was a relief to hit that refreshingly cool water. All three of us had raised our body temperatures quite a bit during our heated session, especially Frank. What amazed me was that I didn’t see any marks on him. After each of us swam a few laps, we congregated in the center of the pool where we could stand with the water level mid-chest. Tits were exposed. Glistening tits are always a pleasure for the eyes, whether male or female.
“Frank, tell me something.” I inspected his body, especially the back and still saw no evidence of his flogging. “I’m surprised you’re not beat up. I don’t see a scratch on you.”
“It’s all for show. I don’t like intense pain. Everything we do is pure fantasy.”
“As for leaving scars,” Laura joined in, “suede leather can be used with a little more force than finished leather, without putting whelps on his skin. Believe me, Jack. We’ve experimented for years to find the right tools for what we like to do.”
“Well, how did it all get started?” I asked.
“Boredom,” Frank said. Things were getting stale in the bedroom, so we started experimenting with role reversals. Actually, I think I was the instigator. Anytime Laura would end up on top of me, I’d more or less assume a posture of surrender. I’d reach up and grab hold of the bed posts, then let her work me over.”
“It took me awhile to get into it,” Laura added. “At first, I’d just fuck him and let it go at that. But eventually, I put my husband on a sort of pedestal. I’d worship every inch of him with kisses, licking and finger massages. And it seemed the longer I made him wait, the more exciting it became for both of us. Then one day, Frank came home with two sets of handcuffs, you know, the standard metal kind.”
“And that’s what did it?” I asked.
“Not at first,” Frank answered, while wrapping an arm around his wife. “We did too much thinking and not enough feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
Laura jumped in, “That was my fault. I went on the internet and got the idea that Frank wanted me to dominate him in a cruel way. I bought a leather outfit, cuffed him to the bed and started talking to him like he was dog shit. I slapped his face, scratched him with my nails, even whipped him with a leather belt... lightly, of course, but it wasn’t working for either of us.”
“It was my fault, too. I didn’t know exactly what it was I wanted. Since I didn’t tell her, she assumed I wanted to be degraded... emasculated, I think they call it. But that wasn’t it at all.”
“So, what was it, Frank?”
“It was a movie that saved us,” Laura smiled.
“Yep. One with Steve Reeves. I think it’s called Romulus and Remus.” Frank pecked her cheek with a kiss.
“That’s the one,” Laura confirmed. “There’s a scene where he’s tied to an X cross that spins. Some sweaty man is whipping him as the cross is being rotated.”
“So that night, I’m cuffed to the bed posts, saying my usual, ‘Yes, Mistress, I will obey. Please don’t hurt me’ bullshit and without thinking, I changed my dialogue.”
“All of a sudden he starts to defy me, just like that chained muscle man, Steve Reeves. Frank started puffing up his chest, flexing his muscles and thrusting out his lower jaw. He was throwing me challenges, saying things like, ‘Do your worst. I’ll never talk. Torture me all you want.’ And guess what, Jack.”
“Frank’s dick was as hard as can be. That did it for me too. Hell, I didn’t want him to be a pussy boy. I wanted him to be a super man.”
“We did that scene from the movie right then and there,” Frank said with another kiss.
“I got the belt and half-way whipped his chest and legs. We added our own dialogue to make it even more sexy and needless to say, we both had the best orgasms we’d had in years.”
“Yeah,” Frank laughed. “That bed was spinning out of control, at least in our little fantasy.”
I was impressed... and erect. “So, that’s what you meant by fantasy role play.”
“That’s right,” Frank answered. “We get ideas from movies, books, art, anything that features an heroic male figure, bound and tortured.”
“And we put our own spin on them as we go along.”
Frank grabbed my arm and I joined Laura next to him. Then, I received a Frank kiss to my cheek. “Jack, tonight’s session was just to get you involved. Kind of light weight by our standards. Not much of a plot.”
“Well, you guys. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but why did you start your dialogue the other way?”
“You mean the... ‘please Madam, don’t hurt me’ part?”
“We wanted to ease you into it. I know you’re a web surfing monkey, so I figured that angle would be more familiar to you.”
“That is mostly what I’ve seen and heard. Honestly, I’m glad you changed into her adversary. Rather see you as a man than a cowering wimp.”
Frank kissed my forehead and I asked the obvious. “So, why do you want me involved?”
This time, I received a kiss from Laura. “To answer that, dearest Jack, we’ve got to go back to the beginning. You boys stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Frank and I passed the minutes with some man to man adoration instigated by me. I put my hands to his chest and belly, then guided him into the deep water. Once under the diving board, I told him to reach up and grab hold, so I could worship his body as it hung suspended halfway in the water.
“I missed this, Frank,” I said between kisses to his middle section... to his nuts... and peter. “It was the hardest part for me not to have access to all of you.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. You’ll always have access, it’s just a question of how long you’ll have to wait. That’s what makes it exciting.”
Laura returned with a tray. I could see glasses filled with drink, but was too busy with Frank to inspect any further. Whatever it was, she left the tray on a table and joined me in the water. Her presentation would be delayed for awhile, because Frank Johnson was about to fire his rockets again.
And that, my dear friends, is the last of my August insertions.
I have been invited to their home again, this time for the Labor Day weekend. Jardonn has run off with Mike Carter to the Gulf Coast, supposedly to help build new houses for victims of hurricane Katrina. He hasn’t bothered to contact us, however, so we’re not sure exactly where they are. Jasper will be spending the weekend with John and Ginny Crosby, but says he wants to record sometime late Monday.
I’ll plan my next insertion for either Monday or Tuesday.


Sept. 5
Now, you'll have to forgive me, but I intend to dwell on this pool activity. You see, even though I had sucked Frank off many times and had put my hands on him many times, never once had I worshiped his belly with my mouth.
Several things came together for me, and if you can picture it I'm sure you'll understand. Like I said, Frank was holding onto the diving board. His body was hanging arms over head, with the water line just below his crotch. The distant light from their house illuminated his still-wet skin, caused his still-wet fur to glisten, and every muscle he had was dramatized by his suspension from the diving board.
His belly felt like heaven... a bit cushiony on the outer layer, solid as a rock beneath. I’m sure you’ve figured out that Frank is considerably older than I, but believe me, this man is in perfect health.
I lingered on that belly of his, burying my face into it, kissing and licking it, while clutching my hands onto his butt cheeks to keep myself above water. And even though mine was floating, adding my weight to his stretched and tightened those muscles even more. I lost myself in this man’s body, while his hard dick was forced down into the water by the pressing of my chest.
Although I knew his wife had taken a position behind him, I paid little attention to what she was doing, pretty much figuring she was working on his back the same way I was working on his belly.
Laura Johnson got my attention in a big way, however, when she snaked her arms inside of Frank’s thighs and clasped her hands onto my butt cheeks. Her arms forced Frank to spread his legs wide and brought Laura’s body closer to mine.
She took me again.
Sept. 6
My hard dick was smothered by Mrs. Johnson’s clamping pussy, coming together underwater beneath Frank’s upside-down-V positioned legs. Hanging onto the diving board kept him halfway out of the water; hanging onto Frank kept me head and shoulders out of the water; and hanging onto me kept Laura head-up out of the water. That beautiful man was supporting the floated weight of three and this goaded me into finishing Frank.
I buried his massive man-meat to the back of my throat and all three of us grunted with exhilaration. My mouth locked him into its vise, crushing his surging cock between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Laura wrapped her legs behind my knee caps, locked her ankles together and humped me, while I began tongue-stroking her husband’s throbbing tool. Every now and then I’d interrupt my strokes to spear my throat with his mushroom. This is so I could stretch my tongue to the extreme and lick his balls at the same time. It’s a luxurious freedom, not needing to worry about drooling all over the place. The water took care of that.
Frank got moves from me I’d never tried before and Laura put moves on me I’d never felt before.
I don’t know how a man his age could have flooded my mouth the way he did, especially as the second coming of his evening. I do know why I contracted to spurt inside his wife the way I did. I can no longer deny it – being inside a female pussy is an ecstasy like no other. No asshole can match it. Only the expertise of a world-class cock sucker can begin to approach it. And with Frank’s glorious body contorting and flexing, not to mention his charged tool rocketing his man-seed down my throat, well put it all together and imagine what kind of orgasm I had – if you can.
Mr. & Mrs. Johnson were conspiring against me. I offered no resistance.
Sept. 7
After we untangled, Frank dropped into the water to cool off, then we all exited the pool. The three of us towel dried, then sat down at the table where Laura had left our sandwiches and melted-iced tea. She brought us new ice cubes.
They asked if I wanted more and I did, so at Laura’s suggestion we moved inside to raid the fridge. I noticed that Laura had what looked like a photo album with her. It had been on the table outside, then the kitchen counter inside, but was shown to me in their bedroom, where the three of us sprawled naked on a king-sized mattress.
Laura did most of the talking, as she gave an historical account of the coming together of Frank Johnson and Laura Honsinger. Frank was in college; Laura worked at a nearby, off-campus bar and grill. Love at first site? Not really. It wasn’t until Laura’s employer held a cook-out and swimming party -- a ten year anniversary of the bar get-together at his house, thrown for regular patrons and employees of the bar before Frank and Laura took notice of one another.
“It was her tits,” Frank said. “Bouncing so beautifully in her two-piece suit. Man, when she climbed out of the water I nearly shit my trunks.”
“It was his chest,” Laura said. “And the hair. Just a small patch on the sternum, then a thinly painted line right down the center of his stomach, through the navel and beyond.”
She showed me a picture. “This is him a few months later... on a camping trip. The first night we did it.”
He stood near a river bank, shirtless, and what got my attention was that he looked like I do right now, at least in the composition of the body and the fur covering.
“Damn, Frank. You looked just like...”
Frank was asleep. Poor guy, we’d sapped him of everything.
“We’re glad you’re here, Jack,” Laura said. Then, she closed the book. "Let’s call it a day.”
Pampered is a good word to describe my treatment, as I slept in the middle between them. Mystified is a good word to describe my reaction, when I awoke in total darkness to feel one mouth on my nuts and another one on my dick.
Sept. 8
A marathon of body worship, that’s what I got. Never was sure if I fully woke up or not, but hell, I didn’t need to. They lathered me up good. All I had to do was lay there on my back, as they smothered my body with kisses and licks and finger rubs.
The word marathon is not to be taken lightly, because their praise continued non-stop until I thought my nuts would explode. I quit opening my eyes to distinguish which shadow was doing what. I no longer cared. I certainly didn’t care when my dick was finally, mercifully taken into a warm mouth to be sucked with slow, tantalizing, wet-tongued scrapings. Nor did I care when butt cheeks sat onto my chest and a hand lifted my head, directing my tongue to the open V of a heated, human crotch.
My concern only came when I realized that the crotch was comprised of neither balls nor dick. Laura was filling my mouth, which meant that Frank was sucking my cock, which meant that he was doing something he had never done to me before.
Sept. 11
What could I do?
I was trapped. Sure, I could have jerked my head away to verbalize my protest, but not without disrupting what was happening to my cock. After all these months, Frank was finally pleasuring me with his mouth instead of his hand, and if eating his wife’s pussy was the price I had to pay for Frank’s services, then it was a small amount indeed.
I focused on what my dick was feeling, not what my tongue was tasting and nose was smelling. I lost myself in this momentous occasion – the most generous gift Frank could give to me – and without realizing it, my head no longer was in the clutches of Laura. I began to voluntarily service her, and unlike my previous, teen-aged experience, this woman tasted fresh, smelled clean and was willing to assist me in my exploration.
She guided her clitoris towards my tongue, exposed it with her fingers to make sure I knew what I was tasting and feeling. Once I was successfully locked onto her, Laura leaned forward, clasping her hands to the headboard. This gave me easier access to her sensitive sweet spot, while leaving her dangling breasts to hover above me. I had fully adjusted to the darkness. Her inflated balloons were cast in a shadow of blue. Without forethought, I reached up to touch them, to fondle them, to grasp them in my clutches while stimulating her nipples with a gentle rubbing of my thumbs.
This was an alternating ecstasy for me. The nerves in my groin sent strong messages to my brain, reminding me that Frank was becoming more comfortable with each slow, tantalizing stroke executed on my cock. Then, this message was usurped by my hands, thumbs, tongue and nose. They were reminding me that Laura was there, too. The delicate softness of her breasts; the stimulated firmness of her nipples; the vibrating heat of her clitoris; the pleasurable sweetness of her vagina, all combined to send a return message to my surging cock.
My alternating ecstasy became a mesmerizing, never-ending cycle, as shockwaves of pleasured messages charged from groin to brain to all extremities between and beyond. Only my finish could end this madness and the orgasm that did finish me put all arguments aside. My defenses were obliterated. My doubts were no more. My desire for man and woman were equal.
Damn them. They had tricked me... and I loved them for it.
Sept. 12
Laura must have been pleased with all that had transpired so far. I know this because Frank and I awoke to the smell of coffee and the sounds of a cart rolling on the bedroom floor. Breakfast in bed is what we got – enough food to feed a Roman legion. I asked Frank if this was the norm.
“Are you kidding? She cooks all week, but when the weekend gets here she’s a slacker. I have to do everything.”
“Careful,” Laura said. “It’s too early for you to start upsetting me.”
Their bedside table clock said 11:42. “You call this early?” I asked.
“It is when you go to sleep around 5 am.”
“Wow, is that when I passed out on you?”
“Jack, darling, as soon as Frank drained your nuts you were out like a light."
“Uh, did I get you off first?”
“No, but he took care of me. His mouth was very, very busy.”
“And effective,” I added.
The key word for Saturday? Pool... as in swimming and table. They had a beautiful nine-footer in the basement. Daytime swimming was with trunks, mine being a pair of Frank’s drawn up from loose to acceptable with the string.
I got a few more details – about their two kids, now grown, one at college, the other married with an expecting wife.
“Hey, your first grandchild. Does it make you feel old, Frank?”
“Hell, no. It’s good to know my sperm is so useful.”
“And tasty.”
We swam for awhile, sunbathed for awhile, then Frank and I headed downstairs to play pool, while Laura prepared dinner. As we dined, Laura said tonight’s entertainment would be a movie.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Which one?”
“Well, let’s see if you can guess. It starred Richard Burton and Victor Mature. It’s set in ancient Rome, around the time of Jesus’s crucifixion. Any ideas?”
“Uh, ‘King of Kings’.”
“Ok, I give up.”
Frank joined in. “You look less than enthusiastic, Jack, but don’t worry. We will only be watching one scene.”
“And will I be Richard Burton or Victor Mature, whoever the hell he is?”
“Never you mind, Jack,” Laura teased. “You will be neither.”
This satisfied me. Ah, the drama, the intrigue, the boner under the table. Just hearing the word crucifixion mentioned with Frank sitting there shirtless was all I needed to hear. That, however, was not where we were headed. Not this night.
Sept. 13
Still in our swimming gear, the three of us migrated to the basement to view “The Robe” on their high-definition big-screen. The movie clip was shown to me several times, first at regular speed, then at half-speed. The final viewing was Johnson-chosen clips from the clip itself shown at one frame per second.
I thought the scene quite kinky, considering the film was a major Hollywood production from the 1950's, but like most such scenes, I was left frustrated and wanting more. I was thinking, ‘If only they would have done this when he said that,’ or ‘If only they would have shown me that part from the side angle.’ In any case, on the 10-point turn-on meter, I’d give it an eight. On the 10-point erection meter, it gave me a 10.
Frank announced that he needed to cool off in the swimming pool and we followed him there. The sun had just set. He stripped and Laura stripped, so I stripped.
I suspect the swim was merely to make us all smell clean like chlorine, because within five minutes both Johnson’s had exited the pool. Our garments were left right where we dropped them, as we toweled off and headed for their bedroom. This act would be played out on the king-size mattress using under-the-bed straps.
Oh, in case you haven’t seen this film I’ll give you a quick summary for our scene of interest. The Romans have the Victor Mature character roped to a horizontal table in a spread-eagle position. They are interrogating him to find out where the Richard Burton character is hiding. They whip his chest, then crush his middle section using a board laid across him. Apparently, underneath the board there are nails or spikes, because when they turn a wheel and the board presses down on him, he starts moaning and arching his back, while his feet raise off the table. The poor fellow is stripped to his loin covering, which in the 1950's meant that it was half-way up his abdomen, concealing his navel.
See what I mean when I said it was frustrating? Why didn’t they just strip the guy naked like the Romans probably would have done? So much for historical accuracy.
Sept. 14
Our first stop was Laura’s closet full of goodies in the basement, and while she picked out instruments she thought she would need, I stood behind Frank, rubbing my hands up and down his chest and belly. Comforting him before torturing him seemed the thing to do.
Laura handed us her choices – two short whips made of tightly wound nylon rope, her trusty flogger and the strap system. She told us to go on up to the bedroom and that she would join us shortly.
Like the movie itself, our scene would begin with the man already bound to his torture table. Frank and I ran the strap system underneath the bed, bringing their four ends up to lay on the mattress at four corners. He laid one pillow in the middle, stretched out over it and extended his limbs in four directions, as I helped him thread his hands and feet through the loops. With Frank’s direction, I adjusted the straps until he was stretched taut like the letter X, then he had me tighten each one a bit more to his desired tension.
He told me that there was a dark brown towel in the bathroom and that I should wrap it around him to fashion a loin cloth, which was easy to do, because the length of his pillow ran from his deltoids to the middle of his back. This caused his buttocks to barely touch the mattress, while his chest and belly were elevated. ‘Twas a fine view from any angle.
Laura returned with two wooden poles, former mop handles perhaps, but without the mops. Both poles were rounded at one end, flat at the other, and she laid them near the pile on the floor where Frank and I had dropped her whips and flogger.
Laura stood beside me with one arm around my shoulder, her hand fingering my chest. “Those poles should do nicely for his belly torture, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do.”
We admired our victim for awhile and Frank kindly entertained us, straining against his straps, looking around as though seeking a way to escape, exaggerating his exhales to dramatize his stretched and flattened belly. It was exposed to the beginning of his pubic hair, thanks to my expertise in designing his only garment.
I was erect; Laura was moist. She said, “Well, darling, you have everything you need. Our safe word is still the same. Do you remember it?”
“Yes. Federal dollars.”
“Correct. Get to it.”
“Yes, Jack. I can’t be the Roman interrogator. I’m female. That would never be allowed. You are in charge. I’ll play this man’s wife, brought here to witness his torture.”
Oh me, oh my... life is good.
Sept. 15
“Onto the floor with you, in that corner, wench!”
That was my command to the wife, who silently did as I told her. The Burton character’s name was Galleon, and with one of the rope whips in hand, I began the interrogation as scripted.
“All right, slave. Where is Tribune Galleon?” I brought the whip down across his chest. “Where is he hiding?” I struck him again, then again, taking aim at his nipples.
The slave tensed his body to receive my blows, straining his arms against the straps. His eyes were clamped shut and teeth clenched together, while deep-toned, guttural groans rumbled from his throat.
To shut him up, I clutched my hand to his throat. “You will talk, slave. Before I am finished, you will long for death, but it will not come so easily.”
I pinched his nipple with my finger and thumb, repeated the act on his other nipple, then resumed his lashing. Glancing to his wife, I was given a nod of approval that the severity of my blows was appropriate, so I continued to target both tits and interrogate. “Talk, damn you. Where is Tribune Galleon?”
My god, he was beautiful. The muscles in his arms, chest and belly were flexed to capacity and he twitched and jerked as though the whip were carving him to pieces. As for words, he said none.
I ordered to myself, “Give him the wheel.”
I dropped the whip to the floor and picked up both poles. Leaping onto the bed, I stood with my feet between his spread open thighs and drove the stakes into his belly midway between his navel and pelvic bone.
My glorious male victim arched his back, sucked in his abdominal cavity and tensed every muscle in it. He raised his head to peer over his expanded chest with lower jaw thrust forward, then violently threw his head back to the mattress, arching his back even more while making sounds as though he would puke. I leaned onto the poles. My weight brought them down deep into his muscle and his grunting became louder.
I know there was pain here. I could almost feel it myself, but the slave took it, relished it, until I removed the poles from his belly.
Returning to stand beside the mattress, I motioned to his wife. “Bring the woman.”
She ran to him, flung her naked tits across his mighty chest, pleading with him. “Oh, please tell them. Don’t make me watch this any longer. I can’t bear it.”
“Oh, you will bear it, woman,” I mocked. “Not only will you watch, you will also participate.”
I handed her the flogger.
“NO! I won’t do it.”
“You will, or I will beat you until you change your mind.”
I laid my whip to her buttocks. When she rolled off of our slave to escape, I laid it to her tits. She moved towards the corner and I circled the bed in pursuit, striking her as she cowered below me.
“Leave her alone, you bastard,” my slave finally spoke. “I’m the one you want. Torture me.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I will. But this wench will do her duty or she will be crucified. Is that what you want? I suggest you persuade her to assist me in your torture.”
“Do it. Do as he says. It is no use for both of us to suffer.”
With that settled, the wife went to work on his chest with her expert flogging technique and I again gave him the wheel, but this time while kneeling on the mattress beside him. It is the view I desired and my victim did not disappoint. Before I even began grinding the poles into him, he locked his eyes onto mine. He arched his back, despite the flogger coming down on him. He pulled on the straps, flexing his muscles in preparation for the impalement of his belly. Oh, yes, and his belly was flattened as low as he could make it go.
Our assault on him was lengthy. My questioning was ceaseless. And this man’s performance was magnificent. Not once did he speak. Instead, he glared at me with his lower jaw thrust out, mouth clenched, back arched, chest expanded, fingers and toes curling forward and backward. And the sounds he made... music to my ears. Masculine groans, grunts of near-regurgitation. I absorbed the sights and sounds of my hero standing up to his torture like the man he was... is.
When I finally removed the poles from his belly, the woman stopped flogging his chest and our victim collapsed. A sheen of sweat had broken out to highlight his male form. He continued to groan with each exhale of breath. From the side view: heaven. Powerful chest elevated; muscular belly flattened; both rapidly rising and falling in harmony, our bound prisoner overwhelmed his tormentors with his masculine beauty. We stood in awe, neither of us able to imagine a more glorious scene. There was only one thing that could intensify our excitement.
That towel had to go...
Sept. 18
Of course, the unleashing of Frank’s penis could not go without a verbal introduction, and I provided it.
“Well, slave, your strength is impressive. This I cannot deny, but there are other ways of persuading you to loosen your tongue.”
And with that, I ripped away his loin cloth, allowing his fully-charged penis to flip onto his belly. He strained his arms against the straps, raised his head to confirm his nakedness, then glared at me while protesting with a manly, “Ugh”.
His incredible, masculine physique struggled against its bondage. His mighty cock rose into the air, triggered by involuntary clinches of his scrotum. It remained suspended for a few seconds, then fell onto his belly, bounced and again lifted itself. My slave’s phallus was begging to be tortured and I kindly granted its request.
“You, woman... look at his powerful tool. Look at his bulging testicles. How many times have you serviced them? How many times have you lovingly taken this man’s penis into your bosom? Into your mouth? Well, it is no longer yours. It is mine, and I order you to flog him. I command you to assault his manly organs.
“NO!” she begged. “I will never do it. I surrender to you. Do with me as you please, but I beg of you, don’t force me to destroy his beautiful phallus.”
“You must. Do it now, or prepare for your crucifixion. What will it be?”
“Crucify me, then. I don’t care. I will no longer participate in your torture of him.”
Again, she was coerced by my tormented slave. “Do as he says, my love. Nothing he does to us will make me talk.”
He struck a pose of manly defiance, expanding his chest, sucking in his belly and spewing his wrath at me. “Go ahead, you bastard. Torture me all you want. I will never tell you.”
“Do it, wench.”
And she did. The flogger came down with the proper fury of an expert, across the top of his engorged shaft, upon the sensitive head of his oozing mushroom, onto the flesh of his swollen testicles, and our victim performed magnificently. Each lashing brought deep-throated “Argh’s and Ungh’s; each carving caused his body to tense, muscles to flex, and head to turn from one side to another; each blow triggered his toes to curl and fists to clench; and each sound, each reaction caused my penis to surge, syrup to dribble and balls to ache.
How could the intensity of the scene I had created be elevated? Was it possible? Shouldn’t I just ravage his body with my face and lips right then and there, while she whipped him into an orgasmic frenzy? Hell no. There was no way I could let him get off that easily.
Sept. 19
I grabbed both his nipples and pinched them, twisted them. “Now slave, will you talk?”
“Ungh... no... never.”
“Shall I torture you until nothing is left? Talk, now, before it is too late.”
“Aghhhh... never... damn you to hell.”
“Very well... give him the wheel.”
I released his tits and grabbed a pole, grinding it into the pit of his stomach while the flogger heated up his cock and balls.
My questions were continuously answered with defiance. I drove the stake in deeper and he took it, grunting and groaning, but still spewing phrases of denial. Oh, god, I wanted to finish him, but then again, I didn’t. I did not want this to end – not yet. I removed the pole from his stomach and commanded the woman to, “Stop!” And I accompanied my order with a slight backhand across her face. She reacted much more violently than the degree of my assault called for, and flung herself backwards to lie on the floor.
My slave shouted, “Damn you! Leave her be. She has done everything you’ve asked of her.”
He was desperately struggling to break free of his bondage, aching to get at me.
“Ah, ha,” I sneered. “Perhaps I have been torturing the wrong slave. This woman is important to you. Is that it? We shall see just how important.”
Sept. 20
I circled the bed to check on Laura, who was laying on the floor pretending to be nearly unconscious.
“Federal Dollars,” I whispered. “Are you ok?”
“Sure. Are you about ready to finish him?”
“Do you want me to finish him?”
“You’re in charge... and you’re doing a wonderful job. Keep him waiting as long as you want.”
“Frank’s doing a pretty good job, too, Laura. I need something from your closet. Is it unlocked?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I went to the basement, leaving Frank to recover and leaving both of them to wonder what I had in mind for finishing this scene. I returned with a length of rope in one hand and a leather belt in another. God only knows why she had this belt, but it probably was part of some dominatrix outfit.
It looked like something one of those heavy metal rockers would wear on stage, Gene Simmons from Kiss, for example. It was black leather, about five inches wide, and imbedded all the way around with silver-colored metal pyramids. Each was about two by two inches, and the point of the pyramid extended about two inches from the belt surface.
“Stand up, wench,” I commanded to the woman. Once she did, I wrapped the belt around her belly – not her hips, snapping it uncomfortably snug.
“How does that feel, my love?” I queried, mocking her husband.
“I... I can hardly breath.”
“Don’t worry. I will alleviate the pressure.”
I took her wrist and brought her to the side of the bed, so her husband could see both of us.
“Now, slave, since you love this woman so much, I will bring you both together. You can share your love in mutual agony.”
He struggled against his straps. “What do you want from her?”
“Everything. Bind her to the rack!”
Sept. 21
I bound her wrists together, then made her sit on the side of the bed. Climbing up, I grabbed the man’s semi-erect penis and moved it off of his belly to point towards his foot, then, standing behind his wife, I lifted her arms overhead and raised her body. I stepped over my male prisoner, draped his wife’s body atop his belly, continuing to the other side of the mattress with her arms still in my grasp. Stepping down to the floor, I stretched her arms, then tucked the extra length of rope under the mattress.
Now, both man and woman were my captives – man beneath, still stretched atop his pillow like a letter X; woman crossing him, her arms stretched close together beyond her head, the small of her back intersecting with her husband’s belly. Together, their bodies formed a letter t and the woman’s back was arched in reverse, thereby forcing her belly to flatten.
“There, woman, I told you I would alleviate the pressure from that belt. I merely transferred the pressure to your arm pits.”
And what about the belt? Well, at least two of those pyramids were pressing down into the belly of my male victim, who was kindly groaning from the piercing, pointed apex of each, while his wife kindly kept her ankles on the mattress, legs spread wide. She also moaned from her stretched and bent-backwards bondage, even though she, unlike her husband, could easily escape at any time.
I knelt next to her upper torso between his legs. With my mouth I ravaged her breasts. With my left hand I fondled her husband’s cock, until he once again was rigid. Then, I left the bed to stand near his face.
“Why do I call you slave? Because you have nothing, except for this woman. It is what you believe, but you see, she does not belong to you. She, like you, belongs to me. And until you talk, you both must suffer. One last time, where is Tribune Galleon?”
All I got from him was a glare of hate, a flexing of his muscles and a manly display of defiance, which could not have made me happier. I flogged them both – he, across his mighty chest; she, across her voluptuous breasts.
The sounds they made were ecstasy to my ears. Feminine shrieks, masculine groans, shouts of anger and pain, all were a symphony of suffering that thrilled me no end.
What had they done to me? Was I becoming a sadist? And if so, why was nobody complaining?
Sept. 22
Although no serious plotting had been done on my part, through trial and error I had created a scene of intoxicating beauty. Both man and woman were displayed before me in a most glorious form of vulnerability, and as the flogger came down upon his chest and hers, their flexing and defensive postures electrified me with lust. Now, the time had come for me to greedily satiate my raging desires.
I cast aside the flogger and climbed onto the mattress. “Now, watch slave, as I take your woman away from you for good.”
I laid atop her. I speared her vagina with my neglected-far-too-long penis. I impaled her husband’s belly by adding my weight to hers, driving the spikes of her belt deeper into him. The heel of my left hand pressed onto his pectoral, my fingers squeezing tightly to that muscle. The curled grip of my right hand clutched his penis, squeezing its long, swollen shaft. My belly was also impaled by the pyramids on her belt, because her belt-adorned belly and my bare-skinned belly were the only parts touching one another – except for my penis meshed with her pussy.
“Both of you, husband and wife, man and woman are mine,” I berated them. “Your fate is in my hands. Your release comes when I choose.”
The groans and grunts coming from this man and woman were matched by my own, for you see, I was further stimulated by my own, self-induced pain. I had chosen to finish this woman by impaling myself upon her belt. I could have supported my weight above her with my hands, but I chose instead to masturbate my man and clutch onto his chest, while stirring my woman with my hardened cock. My chest was elevated; hers sloped downward. My legs were close together; hers were spread wide. I was the third person, the apex of this human pyramid and the pyramids of her belt further agonized me, as the apex of each scraped the skin of my middle section with each grinding penetration -- penetration propelled by my knees alone.
I duplicated Frank’s torment for myself. I equaled his agony upon myself, which heightened my admiration for him, my longing for him, my unbridled lust for this powerful, glorious, tortured man.
The orgasms were merciful. I do not remember theirs – when or how they came – I only recall my own. I only cherish the frantic, testosterone-overdosed, manly-beast-in-heat ecstatic explosion that finished us all – completed in a scene of incredible intensity, dramatized with human sweat, belly impalement, pussy impalement, masculine dominance, masculine helplessness, feminine surrender and orgasmic joy.
Screw Hollywood. What do they know? The Johnson’s and I had acted out a script like no other. My torture victim never did talk. Hell, I was too busy to keep asking. Frank only spoke with his magnificent cock, and I do remember the gobs of his seed on my hand. Not all of it was captured, but whatever stuck to me was transferred to his wife’s stretched titties, and I forced Frank to lay there and watch as I licked her titties clean.
Enjoy the weekend, everybody.
Sept. 25
Exhaustion doesn’t begin to describe the state I was in and I know the Johnson’s, being 20 years my senior, had to feel the same or worse. We wasted little time in discarding the gear we had used, doing our bathroom duties and collapsing into sleep. Nothing was said about what had just happened. Three brains were dead.
Laura is the one who woke me up by dabbing my belly with peroxide-soaked cotton balls. I hadn’t even noticed the scratches I had made on myself, having broken the skin in several places, but now that I knew they were there, her nursing made it all better.
This wild weekend was essentially over. Frank and I got breakfast in bed again, which arrived at about two in the afternoon. Then the three of us lounged around until hands and lips started going astray. Apparently, there was still more to do in completing my acceptance into this union, because what followed was a series of two-against-one marathons of body worship and a succession of three orgasms.
That did me in for good, so I told them I had to get home. I hate to admit it, but those two old farts had worn me out, even though I was excited to imagine what our future hook-ups might bring.
The Johnson’s had the equipment. We all three were of a like mind as to the mode of bondage and domination we enjoyed, so everything was in place and I knew my weekends would be reserved for them... or so I thought.
Sept. 26
What I did not expect was to be cut off for three weeks. Frank did call me on Monday as usual, and to my surprise, we resumed our normal routine of lunch-time blow jobs – at least for that one day.
It was at this time he told me that their daughter would be in town mid-week and over the weekend. After that both he and Laura would begin their vacation. They planned to visit their son, whose wife would be due to squirt out their first grandchild.
“What will you do with the frame in your basement?” I asked, in reference to the elaborate device where we had suspended him in our first session.
“Oh, it breaks down easily. I’ll store it in the garage with the other junk.”
“So, what about the rest of this week, Frank?”
“Today will be it. Tomorrow I’ll be doing an orientation for new agents and Wednesday my daughter will be here.”
I tried not to let it show that I was disappointedly pissed off, and with a few moments of reflection, I came to the conclusion that abstinence from the Johnson’s would only make our next meeting more enjoyable. As for now, Frank was here and I planned to make the most of it.
I told him to strip. I told him to sprawl out on the bed, to shut his eyes and to shut his mouth. I knew what time he had to leave and I knew how long it would take me to get him off, so I dry kissed every inch of his topside and fondled him with my hands. I sucked on his cock like I’d never done before, nearly gagging myself by ramming his ram rod to the back of my throat and licking his balls with my tongue. My fingers replaced my tongue to pinch and twist his testicle skin, while my mouth viciously stroked and crushed his thick, sturdy tool.
He was drained good and I swallowed it all, refusing to drink or eat anything for the remainder of the day, so I could cherish the taste of his seed as long as possible. Does that gross you out? Tough shit. Frank is a very healthy man. His discharge tastes good and now it also reminds me of his wife, Laura. When I taste Frank, I can feel Laura’s warm vagina crushing my pecker.
(Next insertion will be Sept. 28)
Sept. 28
Frank called me Sunday night, the last one in August, wanting to know if he could see me the following day. Our Monday-lunch-hour-encounter came exactly three weeks since the previous and Frank made the decision that I was to get off first.
“I think I’ll do a better job on you if I’m still horny,” he explained.
This meant that he would no longer be satisfied with using his hand to take care of me, but his mouth. Unfortunately, and unexpectedly, Frank’s oral experience was not efficient enough to bring me orgasm. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine, because fantasies of him were no longer sufficient to do the trick. He was there with me. I needed to touch him – to see him and to taste him.
Laying on my back, I raised up to watch the top of his head frantically stroking up and down, side to side, as he knelt between my legs. He clearly was tiring of his desperate, useless attempts to finish me. I rose to a sitting position, reached down to clutch his flaccid pecker. With a gentle tug of his tail, I coaxed him to pivot towards me. I forced him to reverse position, until he was on all fours with his cock above my mouth. My fingers clamped into his butt cheeks and I coerced him to lower his hips, until his lifeless worm was within range of my lips.
My hard dick was still in his mouth and his was in mine. Its swelling was instantaneous, power increasing until Frank was fully erect. His lesson in the art of the man-to-man sixty-nine was about to begin.
Sept. 29
I know Frank loves to fuck and I know he’s damn good at it. I’ve seen him do it. It was during our last round of orgasms in their bedroom on Sunday afternoon, when he pleasurably consumed his wife with that manly battering ram of his. It was a display of tradition, done with simplicity – man on top, smothering his female beneath. I was there beside them, on my knees, slipping my hand between them to fondle Laura’s breasts, laying my lips onto Frank’s back to feel his powerful, undulating muscles. I watched him stroke her to submission, masterfully pivoting his hips to penetrate her from every possible angle.
I marveled at his artistry, absorbed the sounds coming from their groins and their mouths, and I took mental notes.
Frank quickly understood my desire. All it took was my hands on his hips to pull him down a few inches, then push him back up. From there, Frank took charge and I had what I wanted: my dick in his mostly stationary mouth, his dick fucking the back of my skull. He was directly above me for my eyes to observe... his bulging nuts, dangling and swinging in unison with his thrusting and retracting hips; his hairy ass crack, narrowing and widening as the scrotum clinched in conjunction with the stimulation of his cock; the back sides of his muscular thighs, efficiently lifting and lowering his mighty fuck tool to receive that stimulation.
My hands were free to roam. They slid underneath him, along the length of his belly and his chest. I squeezed his flexing pectorals, massaged his firm nipples with my fingertips. I rubbed his hard stomach, his tightened belly, then encompassed his mighty bull nuts in my hand, following them up and down, as he increased the pace of his strokes.
For him, my mouth became a warm, tight, pussy hole. My tongue wrapped around the top half of his cock, the roof of my mouth took the other half and I crushed him in between. It was a battle of wills – my crunching vise doing everything in its power to prevent him from fucking me; Frank doing his best to bull his way through, savoring my wet friction, overpowering my attempts to crush his thick meat down to nothingness.
The contest was a draw, and Frank’s brain convinced him to coordinate his mouth strokes on my dick with his dick strokes on my mouth.
Humans learn quickly when their admiration for one another transcends the physical – when the desire to please your partner outweighs the desire to please yourself. This is when orgasms are magnified tenfold, and this is what Frank and I achieved that afternoon. The art of the sixty-nine was easily mastered.
By mutual agreement, nothing more would happen between us until the weekend. Upcoming was Labor Day, which meant a three-day weekend and I was invited to their home for the second time.
For us, August was coming to an end. For my insertions, September has come to an end. Join me on Monday, October 2, as I continue to tell the saga of Jack, Frank and Laura.


Oct. 2
Let's call this episode our Indian Summer encounter, even though it was Labor Day weekend. I got there about 6 pm Friday and they fed me, then announced that their first grandchild was a boy. I saw pictures and heard about the delivery, etc., and I don't mean to brush it off as though it's not important, it's just that the subject does not make me horny. There is nothing cute about a red-skinned, squinty-eyed, alien-looking creature, unless you're related to it, which I was not.
Of course, after three weeks of denial from the Johnsons I was plenty horny that night and was relieved when we finally got around to watching some movie clips.
Our scene was to be cowboys and Indians. I was the Indians, Frank the cowboy and Laura, well, you will know soon enough. Actually, it was Indians versus white settlers and Frank had foolishly set up his homestead near hostiles. For this, he was brought to our village and, shall we say, cock tortured?

Ok, let's.

Before we got to the cock part, however, I wanted to try something I'd never tried before.
Oct. 3
My village was in the Johnson basement near the frame, which Frank had kindly reassembled so we could punish him on it. I used the lower set of wooden stocks – put his feet in there and made him lay down. His torso was underneath the horizontal beams where we had suspended him in our first session. I considered leaving his arms free, but decided Frank stretched is much more stimulating, so we got ropes out of the closet and tied his wrists. His arms were pulled towards the feet of the X frame, where we tied the other ends of rope. He laid flat with arms stretched like a V, while his feet were in the wooden stocks, five inches off the floor and about two feet apart.
Frank wears a size 10 shoe. I know, because once when he was at my place I looked inside one of them. Smelled it, too.
Now, for fantasy purposes, I am the Indians, ok? I know full well that they are properly called Native Americans and that the sordid history of the “Christian” eradication of them on this continent is written by the white man, and so what we did to them was ok, but what they did to us was brutal savagery. Exaggerations of the awful treatment perpetrated upon white captives furthered the justification for wiping each tribe from the face of the earth. What we did and said in the Johnson basement was strictly so Frank, Laura and I could get off. As whites, we know damn good and well that there is plenty of blood on the hands of our ancestors. This is not a history lesson, so if you’re going to get all bent out of shape over Indians torturing people, go find some politically-correct web site and jack off there.
The beauty of this is that Indians didn’t torture people for information. They did it for sport and to send a message that it was unwise to invade their territory, so I didn’t have to say much – just do.
What I did was work on those handsome feet of his... with feathers... the quill kind, which Laura had used on him herself before I came along.
There is an elegant symmetry to Frank’s feet, especially when viewing the bottoms of his soles. His are the kind with a slight curve to the arch and plenty of meat from the topside of the foot to the bottom. The second toes are just a fraction of an inch longer than the greats, and small tufts of hair dot the tops of each toe, plus the bridge of each arch. The soles are thick and sturdy, and therefore, quite capable of absorbing punishment.
The gist of my story had already been told to Frank and Laura. Like I said, they were homesteaders and my tribe had burned their house and taken them prisoner. I ordered my men to “bring the white woman” and force her to torture her husbands feet, while I watched from above.
Mrs. white bread did a masterful job on him with her two feathers, running them along the soles of his immobilized feet and toes... in between his toes. He is a bit ticklish there, but not to any great degree. For us, however, he groaned and curled his toes forward in an attempt to defend himself.
The Indian Chief was not satisfied with fake suffering, so he concocted a more effective use for these feathers. He knelt next to the woman, yanked one feather from her hand and pushed her aside.
Oct. 4
The Chief reversed grip on the feather. He assaulted the white man’s right foot with the sharp-tipped end of the quill. He scratched the thick skin of his sole, jabbed its sharp point into it and the white man’s groans became real. Then, the Indian poked the tiny dagger into the sensitive skin between his prisoner’s toes. The white man desperately tried to wiggle his foot side to side in defense, but the red man clutched onto it with his free hand.
Using his feather, the Indian pointed to the white man’s left foot. “You, woman, do.”
And she did do. We enjoyed drawing tiny white lines upon the soles of Frank’s feet. I even made a little smiley face between his heel and the ball of his foot. As for Frank, he was making a concerted effort to wiggle his feet away from us, and because he couldn’t, he was also making manly grunts and groans come from his throat. No feigned torture this. Frank truly was having some problems dealing with this teasing, tormenting form of punishment.
His cock was somewhat interested, I’d say about 50 percent, but we were not yet concerned with that. Laura and I sat with our legs crossed Indian style and created our artistic designs upon the helpless white man’s manly feet.
The time did come, of course, to erase our lines and start all over. What did we use for our erasers? Wetness.
Oct. 5
I tossed the feather aside and laid on my belly, resting on my elbows, then ordered white woman to do the same.
My tongue greedily licked his feet clean of their lines of torture, while my nose inhaled the air between his toes. Frank is a proper man. He wears quality clothing and goes to great lengths in maintaining his body, inside and out. He only eats foods that help him maintain his health, which is why his semen tastes alive and invigorating. He respects himself and his wife and strives to be his best for her. Now, I am included in this equation. Frank is a proper man for both of us.
So, you can see why I chose Frank’s feet for my first-ever sampling of such body parts. It was a sound choice. They were pleasantly aromatic and fresh, smooth-skinned, but sturdy... and 100 percent masculine. Frank’s feet stimulated me more than I could have imagined. As my licking and kissing and nibbling continued from one minute to another, I became drugged. I fell into a mesmerized stupor, not planning what I might do next or why. My tongue was not my own, nor were my lips, nor were my teeth.
I bent back his toes with my hand, put my teeth onto the ball of his foot. My mouth was wide open. I closed it, lightly scraping my teeth along the thick surface of his skin. I planted my tongue onto the heel and saturated it before moving onto the arch, where I did the same along the entire length of it.
Moving closer to the target, I continued with my tongue work, maneuvering onto the top side of his foot. I licked the hairs on the bridge. I licked and kissed the hairs atop each toe. His nails were perfect, trimmed and filed by the owner himself. I clamped the hairs on his great toe into my lips, tugged them towards Frank, forcing him to bend all five toes back. Then, my fingernails dug into the ball of his foot and I viciously ran them towards his heel, scraping the entire length of his arched foot. He immediately curled his toes forward in defense, leaving two of those great toe hairs in my lips, plucked from him by his own reaction to my attack.
This was my ecstasy. Frank’s feet satisfied all expectations. And I use the plural here, because when I glanced at Laura, she also was lost in a fantasy world, heaping her own brand of incredible praise on her husband’s left foot.
Our actions did not go unnoticed. An inspection of Frank’s penis showed that he was more than satisfied with all that was happening to him.
Oct. 6
I grabbed my female assistant by her hair, forcibly leading the hapless woman to the center of her husband’s body. With a violent, downward yank of her locks, I coerced her to sit and cross her legs beside the prisoner’s left hip.
I brought the two feathers and sat beside the white man’s right hip. One feather was given to her and we both proceeded to tantalize our captive’s genitals… his bulging nuts… his throbbing penis. We tormented that poor man, running the feathers along the length of his shaft, and his balls, and his scrotum.
Next, we coaxed his mighty cock to dance for us. A stroke of the feather across the triangle near his slit caused it to rise up off of his belly, at which time another feather attacked the mushroom. As Frank’s cock stood in midair, two feathers assaulted him upon the entire head of his cock. Every inch was covered, top, bottom, left and right, while the manly tool defied gravity, dancing up, down, and side to side.
60 seconds? 120 seconds? Maybe it was longer, but whatever length of time it was, Frank’s dick got no rest, nor did his scrotum. It remained clinched from our stimulating feather attack upon the head of his cock, directing its ecstatic, mid-air war dance to continue uninterrupted.
Oh, yes, it was a war dance. Frank’s beautiful man-meat was ready to do battle, as was Frank. He was struggling to break free of his bondage, arms straining at the ropes, torso writhing, back arching, chest expanding, belly flattening. Frank was in that ‘look at me’ frame of mind, displaying his masculinity, tempting us to find out what his cock could do for its grand finale.
I suppose I was tempted. Looking at him, listening to his heavy breath and watching his phallic ballet tempted me to intensify the torture of his cock. If Frank thought I was planning to let him shoot anytime soon, he was sadly mistaken.
I handed Laura my feather, then encircled the base of Frank’s pecker with the thumb and first two fingers of my right hand. With my cock ring firmly secured, I placed my open left hand onto the middle of his shaft (the top side nearest his belly) and lifted his cock until it stood vertical. It was folded where my right hand ring held the base, still in its position of pointing towards his belly. Frank’s hard dick was bent nearly 90 degrees with its bulging, turning purple head pointed towards the ceiling.
Looking at Laura, I smiled and she knew what to do. She attacked his mushroom with both feathers. Her tormenting strokes encompassed all of it – the slit, the corona, even underneath the rim that defined its shape, and as she continued her feathered assault on its head, I hand-manipulated the shaft and base, wrenching it into multiple directions and angles.
My left hand fingers wrapped around the middle of his shaft, leaving the head and one inch of cock length exposed. With my right hand cock ring holding firm, I held the base vertical and then bent the middle shaft to make his mushroom point in whatever direction I desired. Towards his nuts, towards his belly, to the left or to the right, Frank’s stiffie was forced to bend at 90 degree angles with a stationary grip on its base and movable grip on the shaft.
Laura’s feather assault never stopped, while I maintained my cock ring, using my left handed clamp to bend his penis. My movements were lethargic, like a slug, torturously slow. Laura’s movements were frantic, like a nest of hornets, maddeningly fast. And for Frank, there was no escape, only suffering. Frank suffered from the agonizing, multi-directional bending of his stiff pole, coupled with the two-pronged, feathered teasing of his isolated mushroom.
Frank was born to suffer. The drama of his powerful physique is magnified when he is in bondage. His futile attempts to break those restraints only further increase the excitement he creates for us. In this session, tormenting first his feet, and then his cock, plus watching and listening to his reactions, convinced me to push him further. It was my intention to test the limits of his endurance and I make no apologies for it. It is Frank’s fault. With his own actions he demands to be punished and I have accepted his invitation.
Next insertion Monday, Oct. 9


Oct. 9
There comes a time when a man’s constant groaning starts to annoy, and for me that time had come. I suppose I could have stuffed something into his mouth to muffle the sounds, but I thought it might be more entertaining for all of us if his wife were to do that.
I removed both of my hands from Frank’s cock, yanked the feathers from Laura’s grip and laid them on the floor. Using her hair for a leash, I forced her to stand, and then dragged her towards her husband’s head. With a tug of her hair, I forced her down to smother his face with her pussy. She straddled his head with her knees while turned towards the length of his body. Her taint was on his nose. She placed both hands on his chest for leverage and Frank consumed her gooey, vaginal drippings, as he inhaled the sweet gap between her pussy and her asshole. As for me, I nestled chest-down between his thighs and consumed his bulbous, cum-filled nuts.
Success! Frank’s moans now were muffled, garbled with gurgling sounds that were intermixed with gagging sounds, but still undeniably masculine sounds. Laura made sure the heels of her hands were strategically placed onto Frank’s nipples, so that while his bondage kept them stretched lengthwise, her hand pressure stretched them sideways.
Laura had her territory and I had mine. Hers was from Frank’s face to the end of his rib cage. Mine was from the end of his rib cage to his nuts. They were eaten, one at a time. My lips caressed them, my tongue massaged them, and my teeth taunted them. Before me, sprawled directly in front of my eyes, this man's powerful cock bounced and swayed, wondering why it had been abandoned.
I’m quite sure Frank knew that more punishment would be unleashed upon his manly meat, his glorious tube. I am also sure he was hoping the next assault would trigger the impending explosion for which I had prepared him, but if he did, he was way off the mark.
Frank’s phallic war dance intensified, while I plotted against him with his nuts in my lips and feathers at the ready.
Oct. 10
Fine by me, Frank Johnson... go ahead, slurp on your wife's pussy... sniff her aromatic taint... I'll just lay here between your legs and munch on your balls. I'll watch your handsome white cock do its war dance, but there will be a price to pay for those gyrations.
My feathers were brought into the action – not the soft, tickling parts, but the lethal, pointed parts. I jabbed them into the meat of Frank's thick shaft. His prick was pricked for but brief seconds, as I used the daggers like the paintbrush of a pointillist. Dot, dot, dot, dab, dab, dab, my sharp tips tormented the fat, fleshy width of his cock's lower shaft, while my tongue relentlessly licked and scraped his ever-tightening balls.
His dancing became frantic, as each sharp poke of my quills caused his majestic penis to perform an out of control, acrobatic display. With my ceaseless ball munching and Laura's face-sitting as its catalyst, Frank's bouncing pole contributed to its own torment. All I had to do was hold my daggers a fraction of an inch above his cock and wait for it to meet them in mid-air. Little by little, I directed them along the length of his shaft. Minutes passed. His contractions caused him to continuously torture himself, until my pointy pin pricks neared the rim of his corona, targeting the super-sensitive skin below the slit of his piss hole.
Contact of the needles here made Frank's body twitch and contort. Grunts of very real discomfort came from his wife's pussy. These grunts actually came from Frank, but were muffled by her pussy. She smothered him. She drowned him and I enjoyed listening to him gurgle his sounds of agony – the agony of a cock relentlessly tortured, the pain of a cock mercilessly on the edge of eruption, the tragedy of a man's penis denied its finish.
Oct. 11
Nothing seemed to satisfy my lust to punish him. I refused to end it, because I knew his pain was minimal, while his pleasure was phenomenal. I released his nuts from my mouth and knelt beside him, hovering over his belly. There, the torture of his cock continued with an increased accuracy. My daggers were aimed on either side of his penis. As it majestically rose to pierce the air, my pin prick attacked from one side, which caused his dick to jolt in the opposite direction, where it was greeted by another sharp prick.
And then, I launched into a free-form of brush strokes, jabbing him anywhere and everywhere from the head to the base. This time, his nuts were not to be spared. My torturous pokes assaulted every inch of their tight, sensitive skin. I also included his belly, as my frantic dabbing and dotting impaled his solid muscle, even going so far as to attack the darkness inside his belly button.
Oh, god, I loved watching him writhe... hearing him moan... and slurp, both for air and for pussy juice. His feet were frenetic, toes curling forward and arching backward. His back also arched. His belly flattened. His cock relentlessly bounced up and down, swayed side to side, as every needle-sharp jab of my quills coerced rapid-fire clenching in Frank's scrotum.
There was no planning on my part, only action and reaction, based on his reaction. I dropped one feather, clutched his cock shaft into my fingers and held it vertical. I squeezed it, crushed it, forcing all blood into his mammoth mushroom. I painted it with my pin pricks. I jabbed and released quickly, relishing the brief second of white dot at the point of impact, before the color of red returned. I placed the pointed tip onto the triangle of his cock just below the slit, and I held it there. I impaled the skin, slowly increasing pressure, driving it in deeper and deeper.
Frank spit out his wife's dripping vagina and howled with ecstatic agony. I waited for his safe word, but it did not come. He took his punishment, until I removed the dagger and released my clutching fingers. Frank's cock bounced onto his belly, and then rose again, at which time I slapped it. With my flattened fingers, I repeatedly slapped the top side of his shaft and mushroom, slamming his dick down onto his belly again and again. I bounced his cock between my hand and his belly like it was a pinball, mercilessly trapped between two bumpers.
It was enough – not because I was ready to grant him mercy, but because I needed to get off. I grabbed the woman's hair and forced her to uncover his face, and then we both stood above him, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest and belly and cock. Born to suffer. That is Frank Johnson. I cannot imagine anything more stimulating than to see his powerful, yet helpless body laying there, stretched spread eagle, gasping for air and flexing with readiness.
These two had sent me on a power trip and I planned to take full advantage... of both of them.
Oct. 12
I glared down at Frank, but then something drew my eyes upwards. It was one of the horizontal boards – the one from which we had suspended Frank on our first night together. I looked at the chains dangling from the board, and then back to Frank. Could it work? The angle seemed correct, but what about the height?
There was only one way to find out. I went to the closet and retrieved those two wrist cuffs. Tonight, they would be for Laura and I clamped them onto her. Standing on Frank’s chest and belly, I lifted her up, hooking first her left arm, then her right. Her toes dangled just to the left of Frank’s rib cage. I grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me. Yes! It could be done, but first I would need to get my peter worked up again.
That was no problem. Frank’s dick was still hard. A little taunting of him was all I needed, and I broke my long silence. “The white woman is mine.” I knelt beside his chest, taking both of his nipples between my fingers and thumb. I pinched them. I twisted them. “You bring her to my lands. I take her from you. She is yours no more forever.”
He said nothing, but his cock said plenty. Frank looked at me, and then gazed up to his suspended wife, her pitiful tits stretched, her heaving belly flattened, her wet pussy available. Frank’s penis renewed its bouncing dance, his belly hairs slick with the pre-cum of his long-neglected and tortured cock.
I was ready. Placing one foot onto Frank’s chest and the other on his stomach, I clutched onto his wife’s hips and brought her towards me. Her body swung freely. My hard dick invaded her dripping pussy, and both of my prisoners groaned with ecstatic agony, as I locked eyes with my male victim. “Mmm,” I grinned with cruelty. “White woman feels good to red man.”
Oct. 13
Naturally, Laura and I both were near orgasm long before our sex tools came together, and the fact that she came only seconds before I did was no surprise. The aftermath is what surprised me, because I did not know the man inside me. Rather than releasing Laura from her suspension so that we both could finish Frank, I walked away from the entire scene, leaving them in bondage, helplessly wondering what I planned to do next.
I needed to urinate and that’s what I did, without saying a word to either of them. There was a hunger pain in my stomach, so I climbed the stairs to invade their refrigerator. Returning to the basement with a plated sandwich, I calmly sat on the sofa and turned on their television to watch the evening news.
Once my belly was satiated, I returned to the frame, stepped again onto Frank’s chest with my left foot and his belly with my right, but this time his cock was underneath that foot. I crushed his pecker into his belly with my weight and listened to him groan. I stared at Laura. She seemed a bit uneasy, as though she wasn’t sure that choosing me to direct our play had been a wise decision. Hell, I wasn’t certain myself, but her fears and mine were soon to be alleviated.
It’s hard to explain, but the thought of Laura’s discomfort did not please me. More than this, it did nothing to fire up my peter. I needed her to desire me, not to accept my penis because she was forced to do so.
Perhaps my reasons were selfish. Perhaps she would have preferred I take her again by force, but I could not. I released her. I positioned her to stand to the right of her husband, and then I stepped down to join her.
We embraced. Her heels were near his rib cage, as I stood in front of her, grasping her naked body with a hug. We kissed. I forced her breasts to nuzzle against my chest, and then I bent my knees, so that I could get my mouth onto those breasts.
Our fondling transformed into the second insertion of my peter to her pussy, as our lips locked together and tongues explored one another. And all the while, just below us, Frank watched, helpless to do anything else. As for his cock, its war dance was renewed, and with a slight shifting of my hips, I crushed his dick beneath my right foot, while slowly stirring the innards of his wife.
Laura and I became partners. Frank became spectator. For the second time, his wife and I pleased ourselves while he suffered below.
In Laura’s closet was a pair of handcuffs, and while she sat near her husband, recovering from our recent, double explosions, I took those handcuffs from her closet and brought them with me back to the frame. Frank’s wrists were untied, but we left his feet in the stocks. We helped him to sit up, and then brought both of his arms behind his back. The handcuffs were locked onto his wrists. Together, Laura and I opened the stocks to free Frank’s feet.
I said to her, “Come on. Let’s take him to the bathroom so he can piss. Then, we’re going to bed.”
Next insertion Oct. 17
Oct. 17
Have you noticed that, even though our role-play scenes always began with dialogue from another source, the storyline would usually be abandoned? The Johnsons and I were in the early stages of discovery, and what I had learned so far was that the sight of a helpless Frank allowed me to enjoy his wife.
On his face was a look of concern and of doubt, which is only natural when a husband knows his wife is fucking another man. As for his dick, it was an opposite reaction. Frank’s cock was fully charged each time he had witnessed our fornication, and whether he was excited by the sight of me getting my jollies, or of Laura getting hers, or the overall effect of him having no control over any of it, the bottom line was this: as long as Frank’s face said one thing, while his dick said another, I was stimulated to unbelievable heights, which made me feel like the man I needed to be in order to entertain myself and Laura.
With hands cuffed behind his back, Frank was led up the stairs and to the bathroom. I held his dick and we hand-massaged his chest, back and belly. We both planted kisses onto his face and lips, while Frank pissed into the toilet.
The under-the-mattress straps were set up, and after Laura unlocked his handcuffs, I guided Frank to lie down on one side of their bed. He was bound stretch rack style, with arms beyond his head and feet spread about two feet apart, strapped ankles resting at the edge of the mattress.
We left him there and went to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a dishpan filled with warm, clean water, two wash cloths, two towels and a bar of soap. I washed Frank’s feet, while Laura washed his dick and sticky-with-pre-cum belly. She saved his nuts for me to clean.
With the bedside table lamp as our only light, Laura and I laid beside Frank and made love. Orgasm count so far? Laura - 2; Jack - 2; Frank - 0.
Oct. 18
Ah! The joys of a king size bed. Laura and I had plenty of room to roll on top of each other or lay side by side, fondling, kissing and licking one another’s naked bodies, while Frank lay bound and mildly stretched, flat on his back and with peter fully erect. He strained his neck to watch us, and with an equal dose of sympathy and malice, I provided a pillow for his head, so he could get a better view.
Neither of us touched him, but we both kept our eyes on him and each other. Our lustful wrestling eventually found me laying on my chest between Laura’s spread open legs, my mouth ravishing her pulsating pussy. In my sights were the lower half of her breasts, the full length of her belly. To my left was Frank, his expanded chest, his sloping-downward belly with that hard, syrup-dribbling cock again bouncing and dancing above it. With a brief respite from my munching on Laura’s clitoris, I said to her, “Tell your husband how you feel, Laura. Am I working for you?”
“Oh, god, Frank,” she moaned. “You have brought to me a most precious gift. Jack is what you were... 20 years ago. Watch him, honey. Lay there and suffer, while this beautiful young man pleases me the way you once did.”
Such a clever woman is that Laura Johnson. As she drove her point home with those taunting words, I drove my tongue home onto her engorged clitoris. I munched incessantly, while she teased verbally.
“Frank, darling, if you could only know what he does to me. Jack is an artist... oh, god, he’s an amazing artist.” Her body began to undulate. “Why have you done this to me, Frank?” The pitch of her voice steadily climbed. “I don’t know what to do.” She arched her back. “I’m falling in love with him.” Her breasts were thrust into the air. “But I’m married to you.” She began to orgasm, tormenting Frank with words interjected between shrieks. “I’m stuck with you... uh, oh... but I need him... ah, Jesus... oh, my god... Jack... uh... Jaaaaaaaaack!”
It was strange how Frank had become silent. He had not uttered one word since his torture beneath the frame in their basement. What he might be thinking mystified me, because although the look on his face showed a trace of fear – a seed of doubt as to whether or not his wife meant what she had said, at the same time his cock remained fully erect and dripping. Was he acting? Or did he think that Laura and I could truly love each other without loving him?
Whatever thoughts were buzzing in his head did not matter to me, as long as those thoughts stimulated him to maintain his erection. And so, Laura and I reversed positions. Now it was my turn to receive her oral praise, while Frank strained against his straps, pretending or wishing for real that he could join us.
Oct. 19
Laura and I teamed up to verbally taunt our prisoner. Of course, Laura’s words were said in between the time she spent licking and sucking my dick. I chose to lay the same direction as Frank, on my back with hands tucked between the pillow and my head. His head was even with my chest and he was forced to strain his neck to see my eyes, but he did strain to look at me when I deflated him.
“Damn, Frank, your wife is good. Too bad you never put out much effort on my behalf. You might have learned the proper way to suck my cock, but it’s too late now.”
Laura spit me out and added, “Yes, Frank, look at this beautiful thing.” She held my dick vertical and erect so he could see it. “It’s custom made for sucking on. Just the right length and not too fat. Unlike your monstrosity. That damn thing nearly chokes me, not to mention bruising my insides.”
She went back to work as I took over. “I am one lucky fella. Your wife is hot. I’m kinda beginning to wonder what the hell you’re even doing here. I mean, really, what do we need you for?”
Laura chimed in, “He brings home the money, Jack. It’s the only reason I keep him around.”
“Yeah, I guess he is good at that. A good provider, plus he is a good man. Doesn’t argue with us. Just lays there and looks pretty. Come on, Frank. Wouldn’t you love to suck my dick? Or maybe you’d like to plow that behemoth cock of yours into your wife’s ass. Would that turn you on? Look at that freak show you call a penis, damn syrup oozing all over the place. Come on, don’t be a wuss. Try to break free.”
Frank performed for me, as did his wife. He sucked in his belly and raised his chest, tugging at the straps, flexing his arms and legs. Laura picked up the pace of her oral strokes, steadily squeezing my dick tighter and tighter between her tongue and the roof of her mouth.
“Man oh man, Frank. Your wife is un-fucking-believable. God damn, she’s good.”
He started to moan. He arched his back. He displayed himself for me. Frank is my beautiful, manly, tortured hero. It was beyond tempting to reach over and touch his powerful chest, or his hard belly, or his shadow-bearded face, but I did not. If I had, my hand would have disobeyed the wishes of my brain and headed straight for his glorious cock. Another person’s hand is no way for a man like Frank to get off. He deserves better, even if it means he has to wait until we’re damned good and ready to finish him.
“Oh, Jesus H. Christ, Frank. I’m going to cum. I’m going to fill your wife’s belly with my load. You had your chance, but not now. There’s no fucking way you could match this. Come on, flex those big muscles of yours. That’s all you can do. That’s what you’re good for.”
I watched him struggle from a distance, remembering the feel of his masculine beauty beneath my hand, beneath my tongue and lips. I used my memory of the overwhelming domination he unleashes upon a cock sucker like me when his powerful penis is in my mouth, and I flooded Laura’s mouth.
Oct. 20
Pretty good for a 40-something-year-old woman, huh? Three orgasms in one night? Laura and I were spent. We made preparations to use the bed for sleeping. She went to the bathroom off of their bedroom, while I went to the one near the guest bedroom that this guest never used, except for storage of my belongings. When I returned, Laura was flossing her husband’s teeth. Next, she brought a cup of mouthwash to his lips, let him slosh it around and spit it into the same cup.
“Sorry, darling, you’ll have to go without brushing tonight. Maybe in the morning. Now, if you need to pee, just tell one of us and we’ll bring you your bottle.”
I did not argue with Laura’s decision that Frank would be sleeping just as he was, stretched out on his back on the left side of the mattress, where below an empty plastic urine bottle lay on the floor.
We used no covers. Laura turned out the lamp and we spooned, she in front of me and our backsides turned towards Frank, who was several inches away. My dick felt comfortably warm nestled against her soft butt cheeks. My right arm was wrapped across her rib cage and tucked beneath her arm. My hand gently rested upon her breast. I kissed her neck and whispered a “good night,” then inhaled the scent of her hair and skin. Sleep came quickly to us.
Sometime in the dull glow of early morning I awoke and again whispered to her. “Laura, I need to taste Frank.”
There was no response. I tried to slip my arm from underneath hers and that’s when she awoke.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get my mouth on your husband.”
“Do you want to get him off now?”
“Hell no, just a little teasing for my benefit.”
“I’ll join you.”
Frank’s Saturday morning began with four lips and two tongues on his two nipples, at which time he spoke. “I need to piss.”
It had been nearly 10 hours since Frank had said anything and I was more than happy to watch him pee into the bottle. I did the dumping of his urine into the toilet, added my own to go with it, washed my hands and returned to join Laura. She was laying on the bed with his left nipple in her mouth. I stood beside him and did the same to his right tit. A long, drawn-out marathon of torment had begun, as Frank’s dick ballooned to full strength yet again.
Next insertion Oct. 23
Oct. 23
Our first major assault on Frank’s tits was well underway. Both Laura and I kept our hands out of the action, using only our mouths, tongues and light touches of teeth. There was sucking; there was licking; there was kissing and there was no interruption.
The first responder was his cock (naturally), but that had already sprung to life as soon as he had relieved his bladder. Our isolated attack on his tits caused his dick to bounce and sway... and dribble pre-cum. Then, other things started happening.
Frank’s body began to undulate and deep-throated groans came with each exhale of his breath. His eyes were closed, as he arched his back, thrusting his tits deeper into our mouths. After a few seconds of this, he would relax for awhile before raising his chest again.
At this point, we had been working on him for about 15 minutes and my stomach was starting to growl, so I took my mouth from him and spoke to Laura. “Let’s plan on fixing breakfast at the top of the hour. I’m starving. And besides, his tits ought to be sore enough by then.”
The top of the hour was about 25 minutes away.
Oct. 24
That 25 minutes saw some interesting changes in Frank. His undulations were replaced by contortions, as our mouths targeted his isolated nipples while leaving the rest of his body untouched. Frank’s involuntary responses made it appear as though he was electrified.
His legs would shake, toes curl, arms twitch. His scrotum would clinch and hold, muscling his cock to lift off of his belly and stand in mid-air, pointing to the left tit where Laura was working him over. After a few seconds of this uncontrolled twitching, Frank’s body would collapse and rest, but it could not last. Our non-stop assault would again cause him to convulse into a back-arching, chest-expanding, belly-tightening, torso-shaking pose of electrified ecstasy, accompanied by pitiful and breathy moans of suffering. Long, dramatically-pitched expressions of “Ah” and “Oh” were interjected with short, painful grunts of “Uh” and “Huh-huh”.
And about three minutes before our breakfast time, Frank finally begged for us to get him off. He had held out for such an heroically long time, but he could take no more. “Oh, god, I can’t take it,” he groaned. “Please... please... god, you’ve got to finish me.”
That satisfied me. I removed my mouth from his nipple and told Laura it was time to eat. We left the room and headed for the kitchen, leaving Frank to suffer unattended.
Oct. 25
I helped Laura prepare everything she wanted us to eat, then we brought it into the bedroom and sat on the mattress where Frank could smell and see it all. We ate, while he watched. He seemed to have calmed down a bit. At least he had stopped pestering us about wanting to get off.
Laura mentioned that if I planned to swim, the pool would need its daily maintenance, which was Frank’s job. I figured he could either follow me around while handcuffed and tell me what to do, or he could do it himself while I made sure he didn’t touch his dick.
“Tell you what, Laura. After I get cleaned up I’m going to run a few errands. You can feed him and then when I get back we’ll go from there.”
I don’t know if they stayed in character while I was gone, but Frank was still stretched and strapped just as I had left him when I returned. Laura was in the kitchen cleaning up the breakfast mess.
“Did he eat?”
“Ok. Is he a morning shitter?”
“Yes. He’s overdue”
“Do you want to take him to the bathroom, or should I?”
She stood with hands on hips and a smirk on her face, in essence telling me that since I was the one who insisted he be helpless, I was the one who should supervise his shitting.
I had no problem with this. The only question I had to ask myself was should I wipe his ass or should I not.
I released his wrists and told him to sit up. After handcuffing his wrists behind his back, I unstrapped his ankles and led him to the toilet, hoping he could go with me in the room. He could and did with no effort. I flushed, made him stand up and head directly for the shower. After stripping, I joined him and turned on the water.
Oct. 26
With his back to the shower stream, Frank’s butt cheeks were spread open by me. Fortunately, his turd had been the cooperative kind, a clean break, so very little brown water went down the drain. I soaped his skin and of course his cock was hard as could be, but I maintained a professional attitude while lathering first him and then myself down.
I toweled myself first, then him.
“Laura,” I shouted. “Come in here.”
She did and together we took him to the sink, where she brushed his teeth and I put an electric razor to his beard. It was a lousy job, but good enough for him. With a splash of aftershave, Frank was ready to get dressed. We led him to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed, while Laura got him a pair of swim trunks and I presented the first item retrieved during my morning errand – a jock strap. Size? Small.
It was a perfect fit. His cock was bent and doubled backwards. Even then, the fabric only covered about two-thirds of his meat and the waist band was stretched to capacity. The base and pubes were beautifully exposed, while his dick was torturously tucked and confined. Laura put on his trunks, which had a mesh jock strap of its own, I put on my trunks, then Frank and I went to the pool, where I uncuffed him and ordered him to do his cleaning duties.
Everything was finished by high noon and the remaining daylight hours were mostly spent in or around the swimming pool. Frank seemed to enjoy his freedom of movement and I certainly was glad when he got in the water, because we had forgotten to put deodorant on his arm pits.
We enjoyed basking in the sun, cooling off in the water and basking some more. Having Frank and Laura apply layers of protective lotion to my skin wasn’t too bad either.
It was daylight, so everything was recreational with genitals covered, damn it. We did, however, when in the water, get our hands onto Frank’s crotch, just to see if his scrunched up cock was still trying to maintain a state of erection. It was. The poor thing had been denied orgasm for so long that I don’t think any thoughts he conjured up could make his dick calm down, no matter how disgusting.
Laura and I made sure we frequently embraced and kissed like lovers, while ignoring Frank as though he wasn’t there. It is indescribable how horny this made me. It’s also unexplainable, but like I said, Frank is born to suffer. And whether it’s physical or mental, his reactions drive me and Laura nuts... insane with LUST, I tells ya.
Oh, yeah, Laura and I pissed in the toilet. We let Frank go whenever the hell he wanted to. Neither one of us could be bothered to go through the hassle of escorting him to the bathroom.
Oct. 27
Dinner found us feeding Frank by hand, because after coming inside from the pool it was necessary to cuff his wrists behind his back. This way he would not be tempted to take liberties with his hard pecker, which was now free of his swim trunks but not of his little jock strap. You should have seen the way his tucked backwards cock forced his nuts to expand when he sat down at his kitchen table chair. I suspect the pressure applied on those gonads brought a bit of nausea to his stomach, but not enough to prevent him from devouring every fork full of food we directed his way. Sometimes Laura and I would get caught up in the enjoyment of the food on our own plates and forget (or pretend to forget) to offer him a bite from his, but with an occasional nudging on our legs by one of his feet, we’d stuff his mouth to keep him occupied.
Isn’t it amazing how obedient Frank had become? He never pestered us with protests or pathetic begging. He simply accepted whatever we forced upon him, never complaining verbally or struggling physically. Such a good man he was to us – and the eye candy... my, my!
Laura and I decided to watch a movie after dinner. But what to do with Frank? We crucified him... sort of. The wooden X built onto the side of that frame in their basement turned out to be the perfect babysitter. We strapped his wrists to the upper portion, but left his feet free, and the height allowed his feet to touch the floor. It was my idea to put a rubber mat under them. It was one I had seen in their garage... the kind made for removing mud from shoes, with hard rubber spikes about two inches in height. Frank could let the weight of his body rest on his feet and feel those spikes, or he could strain his arms and lift himself up if he needed a break from that discomfort... at least until his muscles gave out and he was forced to lower himself again.
He was a very handsome man in this pose, especially with the jock strap concealing two-thirds of his constantly throbbing penis in a tempting sort of way. When he was standing, Frank’s cock would point straight down between his legs, stretching that fabric as far as it could go. And with his pubes exposed, Laura and I did some grooming.
“Look, darling,” I pointed out to her. “That one there is turning white at the end. It doesn’t belong.” And with that, I plucked it.
“You know, Jack,” Laura joined in. “That one there doesn’t have the nice curls to it like the others. He doesn’t need that one either.” Yoink... another pube was removed.
After all of Frank’s unruly pubic hairs – about a dozen – were plucked from him and only the handsome ones remained, we headed for the couch to watch our movie. He could see it, too, from behind us and to our right, but Laura and I had a difficult time getting in to whatever it was... hmm... I think it was the 40 Year Old Virgin. It doesn’t matter, because after about 30 minutes, Laura and I started fondling and kissing each other right there on the plush leather couch. By the time that film was over, we were on the floor in front of Frank’s feet, intensifying our mutual admiration so he could watch us instead of the blue aftermath on their big screen.
We’d just make our own movie... called the 40 Year Old He-man With a Raging Hard-on.
Next insertion Oct. 30
Oct. 30
“Frank, I am so glad you allow me to partake of your wife – not that you have a choice.”
We were directly in front of his feet, Laura on her back with me laying beside her, resting on my elbow. My right hand was massaging her belly and breasts... and occasionally gliding over her vagina.
“Hey,” I told him. “Lift up your feet so we can see.”
He did, and underneath was one row after another of perforations, tiny holes made from the rubber mat.
“Look at that, Laura. I bet that would feel good rubbing on you.”
She agreed, so I told Frank to lift his legs higher, a feat which his strong belly muscles had no trouble performing. As he did, I helped Laura shift her body onto the mat and throw her arms beyond her head.
“Go ahead, Frank. Show your wife how much you love her, even though you can’t have her.”
He got his right foot onto her breasts, slowly rubbing the perforated sole back and forth across her nipples. He did the same thing with his left foot on her belly.
“Be gentle... not too much pressure.”
Of course, this forced him to use those belly muscles in order to keep his legs elevated and feet working on his wife. As for me, I inserted my fingers to her vagina and found the hot spot, which allowed me to stimulate her while watching him.
That beautiful son of a bitch. You know what a strong man’s belly looks like when he’s doing leg lifts? Well, Frank was holding his leg-lift steady and those muscles were burning... gloriously expanded. There was a deep ridge from the pit of his stomach straight down to the belly button and beyond, disappearing beneath his well-groomed pubic hair. And that navel... holy shit... what was normally an innie was now a quasi-outie, as his abdominals forced the knot to pooch outward until revealed. On either side of that ridge were thick ripples of powerful meat - rolls of the stuff, handsomely painted with dark belly hair.
I couldn’t take it. I had to touch that beautiful thing. Three of my right-hand fingers were inside Laura’s pussy and when I removed them they were slick with juice. I sprang to my feet and stood to Frank’s right. My flattened left hand secured the small of his back, while my clawed right hand dug into his belly, encircling his navel.
“Your wife is about to blow, Frank. But you’ve got to keep working on her.” I dug my fingers in deeper. “Think you can hold out? I’ve smeared her pussy juice on your belly. That ought to give you strength. After all, she deserves your best.” I ground my fingertips into his solid wall of belly muscle with all my strength. “How about it, big man? Can you make it?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he gasped. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“That’s a good boy.” I removed my belly claw, formed a fist and gave him a half-assed punch directed at his navel. Then, I leaned down and buried my face into his flexed muscles, tickled the knot of his belly button with my tongue.
He did make it. I returned to lay beside Laura and resumed fingering her clitoris, while Frank burned those belly muscles to foot-massage her breasts, stomach and belly. Her shrieks and howls of orgasm were satisfying for all of us, and I made Frank maintain his leg-lifting foot massage until she had completed her come-down.
I helped Laura roll away from underneath his feet and enjoyed seeing tiny, rubber-mat-made holes aligned up and down her back. As for Frank, I told him to keep his belly muscles flexed, as I took his right leg and directed it towards the lower beam of the X cross, where a leather strap was waiting. It took all my strength to defeat his resistance, but my left hand pressing his knee cap and right hand pulling his ankle did the trick. Once his leg was aligned with the board, I brought the open-ended strap tightly across his ankle, threaded it through the slit in the board and clamped it with the lever built into the side of the board.
Frank's construction was flawlessly effective and easy to use. I admired his handiwork, as I repeated the process on his left leg. Only then did I say...
“Ok, Frank. We’re done with your feet.”
With a mighty groan, he exhaled and relaxed all muscles. Frank rapidly sucked in and blew out air to send fresh oxygen to those muscles and the sight of this was even more exciting than when he was doing his leg-lift. That’s because Frank Johnson was fully suspended, crucified on the very cross he himself had built.
This is the final insertion for October. Next entry will be Wednesday, Nov. 1


Nov. 1
If any of you have read Jardonn's story, Little Helmut (you can listen to Uncle J.'s audio version, too), you know that there is a time when the Nazi says, "It's time for the torture of the tongues!" and as Laura and I stood in front of Frank, watching him struggle on his crucifixion cross, that is exactly what came into my head.
I don't remember how long Slater had maintained his erection, but Frank had been sporting one pretty much non-stop for more than 24 hours. Being crucified didn't change that. His hard dick pointed forward and down between legs spread wide, scrunched in the tight fabric of his little jock strap. I don't think he cared much for our tongue idea, as he flexed his arms and chest to lift his body a few inches, but we didn't ask him, and his struggle only made us want to hurt him more.
Laura started on his feet; I started on his forehead and face, climbing up the three-step ladder we'd used to strap his arms to the cross in the first place. She worked his right side and I worked his left, as she moved up and I moved down. In words it sounds like we moved quickly. In reality we took our time. Maybe I should use more words to describe exactly what we did...?!?!?
It's simple. We licked everything. We kissed everything. There are plenty of descriptions for Frank body parts in previous entries, so by now you should know what we were dealing with. We met in the middle, both of us awkwardly trying to lick his belly at the same time, and realized we'd had our fill. Besides, I thought I could hear wheezing sounds in Frank's lungs as he tried to breathe.
"Laura, I guess it's time to let his cock out of its prison."
Nov. 2
“Damn, here goes five bucks down the drain.” I slipped one blade of the scissors between Frank’s inner thigh and the stretched strap of the jock strap. Snip and... boioioioing, Frank’s dick sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. It waved a couple of times before settling to point straight ahead, fucking nothing right in front of him.
“Bet it feels good to air that thing out, huh Frank?” He nodded his head, while I leaned down to sniff. “Smells pretty good. A mixture of chlorine and sweat... what a combo.”
Frank’s cock was conveniently located about stomach-level to us and I gently ran my index finger along the topside length of its shaft. Laura joined in by adding her finger underneath and we both tormented him, until an involuntary contraction caused his dick to spring up towards his belly, which ruined everything.
“Ok, Frank,” I teased, as we both removed our fingers. “If you want to finish, you’ll have to do it yourself. We’re afraid to touch that thing. It’s getting kind of violent.”
With my prodding, Laura followed me to her closet of goodies and I found what I’d seen earlier. “Is this one of those vibrators?”
“Yes, it runs on a battery.”
I held it up for inspection. “Three levels?”
“Yes, this is high.”
“Set it on low.” She did and flipped the switch. A deep hum said it was ready for use. Laura turned it off and we went back to Frank. She placed the one-inch-wide band around the base of his hard dick, adjusted it for a snug fit, then waited for me to turn it on.
“Hope this will do the trick for you, Frank. Good luck.”
Nov. 3
That low-pitched buzzing sound was music to my ears and candy to my eyes, because Frank’s cock sprang straight up when I flipped on the switch. It did this four times before settling into a routine of sporadic, smaller contractions, occasionally interspersed with major ones that shot his dick up to nearly make contact with his belly.
I hate to say it, but putting that vibrator on Frank probably tortured him worse than if he wore nothing at all. On a sensitivity scale of one to ten, I’d say the base of a man’s shaft is about a four, which is ok if other cock parts are being worked on, too. But by itself it’s just a tease. Oh, sure, a man will eventually reach orgasm this way, but it is a long, slow process.
“There you go, Frank. You’re on your own. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
It sure was a delight to watch him squirm. He tried to thrust his hips forward to simulate a fuck, but being on the cross didn’t give him much leeway to do that. I figured we were going to be there awhile, so I went over to a poker table, got a couple of castor-footed chairs and rolled them over in front of our glorious man on the cross.
“Come on, Laura. Have a seat. This is going to be better than any movie you could dream up.”
“Want me to go make some popcorn?”
“Hey, that’s a great idea. Here, let me hit the pause button.” I turned off the vibrator. “Don’t want you to miss anything.”
“You bet. Thanks, angel.”
Next insertion Nov. 6
Nov. 6
Frank’s cock weakened just a bit with the vibrator turned off, but that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy sitting comfortably in a modern chair while he struggled to breathe on an old-fashioned cross.
Laura descended the stairs carrying a tray that held my requested goodies and the show began. With a flip of the switch and resumption of the buzz, I launched Frank into Act 1, which he performed with a dramatic flair. His cock lifted towards his belly, hovered at an upward angle for a few seconds and then fell to level. It bounced a few times before stopping perfectly horizontal, a bead of pre-cum oozing from the slit. The sparkling gem grew larger until its weight sent it slowly dropping towards the floor, a thin strand of silk keeping it connected to his cock slit.
“Bravo, Frank.” I clapped my hands. “Is that all you can do, or is there more?”
There was. Another bead popped out and traveled down the same line still trailing from penis to carpet.
“Well done. Maybe if you lift your body you’ll be able to breath a little easier.”
He did. His arms strained against the straps and he forced himself up a few inches... which of course caused the muscles in his arms, legs, chest and belly to expand... which of course thrilled Laura and me no end.
“I guess you know that I can’t release you from the cross until you shoot your load. Think you can make it?”
A groan preceded the first words he had spoken for quite some time. “Do you think I can’t?”
“Oh, I know you can. It’s just a question of which action will come first – shooting your load or dying from asphyxiation.”
This is when Act 2 began. He repeatedly clinched his scrotum and waved his syrup-spitting cock up and down. He thrust his pelvis forward as far as he could to simulated a fuck and grunted like a caveman to make himself believe he was a dominant male.
Laura and I both applauded that one. Unfortunately, all Frank got out of it was more lubricating slime.
Act 3 was instigated by me and it really didn’t involve Frank, but I figured it would be good to have him in our sights.
“Come on, Laura. Let’s fuck.”
Nov. 7
The view from underneath was dazzling. I was on the floor on my back with my face directly below the length of Frank’s cock. Every now and then his dribbles would land on my forehead or cheek. That Frank is such a jokester. Laura was riding on my dick near Frank’s left foot, which she would on occasion grab hold of and use for leverage.
He watched her and tried to move in unison. Every time she’d lower herself onto me for full penetration, Frank would thrust his hips forward best he could, as though he was fucking her with me. His dick would raise up and poke the air, but as you know air does not give a man’s cock much friction.
His only stimulation came from the vibrating strap around the base of his penis. And you better believe I got off long before he was even close. Watching him from down there, I could see his balls jiggle, his butt crack tighten and his cock wildly moving in all directions. I listened to the sounds he was making and Laura’s friction did the rest.
I shot my load... loads. After all, I myself hadn’t got off since our Friday-night (actually Saturday morning) multiples. My nuts had been hurting. Just imagine what Frank’s must have felt like. I don’t know when he’d last emptied his nuts. All I know is he had maintained an erection pretty much non-stop without shooting for as long as I’d been there, and that had now been about 30 hours. Ouch.
Nov. 8
“Come on, Frank. Fire it up.”
I tried to motivate him into orgasm. Laura joined me as we put our hands to him, reaching up to rub his chest and belly... and I mean hard, too. We were pressing his back against that cross and heating his skin with wild, circular strokes.
The palms of my hands were hot. They dragged his body hairs along with them, nearly ripping them from his skin. I felt the tips of his nipples shrinking every time I scraped across their tops.
“All right, big man. You’ve suffered long enough. Show me your juice.”
We moved down to his legs and feet, applying the same pressurized hand-rubbing, while Frank flexed his arms and thrust his chest forward. He threw his head back, trying to imagine any fantasy that might trigger his nuts to let go. Frank was so fucking beautiful on that cross, expanding his chest, sucking in his belly, moaning and verbalizing self-motivational speeches... hell, I nearly started stroking my own dick to get myself off again, but thought better of it. Figured I better save myself for later.
Instead, I stood up and threw a 75% serious punch into his belly, reached below with my left hand to grab hold and twist the skin on his nuts, and with flattened fingers of my right hand, slapped his cock from underneath. The momentum caused that rock-hard thing to slam against his belly and come back down to where my hand waited to slap him again. His cock got double-sided slaps – my hand on the underside; his belly on the topside, until the fifth attack gave us what we all wanted...
Nov. 9
Now men, you probably know, and ladies, if you don’t know I’m about to tell you. Few things in this world leave a man feeling more frustrated than an unattended orgasm. Oh sure, I made Frank shoot, but I didn’t help once his contractions began. Never touched his dick again.
It’s like when you’re in one of those lines at the post office that says, “WAIT HERE FOR NEXT AVAILABLE WINDOW,” and you’re next and a customer finishes and leaves a window, so you take two steps towards that window, but then the clerk turns her back to you in order to do something, so you stop where you are and you’re in limbo, until you decide to go back to your waiting spot, but just then the clerk seems finished with her busy work and turns to again face you, so you move forward, but she turns around again, so you stop again, then she faces you again and stares and says, “NEXT,” like it’s the first time she’s noticed that you’re standing in no man’s land and you feel like an idiot and she looks at you like you’re an idiot and treats you like you’re an idiot and you just want to go to another post office and start all over again to get it right, but you’re already there exposed, so you finish what you came to do feeling miserable during the entire transaction. Ever done that?
Frank’s nuts released his load and his dick started to participate but couldn’t feel anything rubbing its corona, so it only halfway contracted. It was just enough to send the stream to his slit, but the little spermatozoa weren’t sure they were in the right place at the right time. They came on out, and there were plenty of them, but they came out in a dribble because his dick wasn’t urging them on. The end result is that Frank was not a happy man.
It was a dual frustration for him, because not only did he lose all that precious cum he had built up, but when it was over he felt as though nothing had happened whatsoever. I thought he was going to cry when Laura covered all his man juice with a towel to remove it from her carpet. Such a waste.
Imagine waiting for over 30 hours to shoot your load and having an orgasm like that. What we did to him almost made MY nuts ache, but it was necessary. We needed a tool for the weekend, and that was going to be Frank’s cock whether he liked it or not.
Nov. 10
On this day in history, November 10 in the year 19??, my Uncle Jasper was born. And to celebrate, I would like to announce that I am a sadist. I didn’t know it until I met the Johnsons, and it is possible that it’s only true when it comes to Frank, but it is true.
My original intent was to take him down from the cross after he had dribbled his load, let him recuperate a bit, and then we’d all go to bed and give him some hero worship until we fell asleep. But that was before I saw and heard how he reacted to his unsatisfactory orgasm.
Frank really was on the verge of tears, that was no exaggeration. The groaning and grunting I’d heard all night continued, but all of a sudden the pitch and tone were different. It was no longer a masculine sound of resistance, but a whimpering sound of near breakdown... almost like the sounds a man makes at a funeral when he’s doing everything is his power to suppress his grief.
Thing is, when I saw and heard that, a rush went through my body like I’d never felt before. Maybe it was a dose of megalomania. This big, strong, always-in-control, manly masterpiece was about to lose it and there was no fucking way I was going to let up on him now. This power trip made me want to literally rip his emotions to shreds.
First, I had to make sure he was in no physical danger, so I unstrapped his ankles and made him stand on the feet-impaling mat again to support his weight. His breathing returned to normal, so I ran upstairs to get his urine jug, came back, removed his vibrator strap and told him to piss. He had no problem doing that for me.
I asked Laura if she had one of those torture movies, and while she figured out which one she wanted to show, I dumped Frank’s jug in the toilet and brought him back a glass of water to drink.
She found a film called “Kings of the Sun” and I gotta tell ya, it is the closest I’ve ever seen to Hollywood getting something right. Ever seen it? It’s got Yul Brynner and has to do with tribal warfare in South America... Mayans versus Toltecs. Historically, it’s bullshit, but there is a scene in which Yul Brynner is bound with nothing but a very skimpy loin cloth on his body. He is stretched very tightly, spread eagle and his back is elevated by something underneath. In other words, his chest is way up in the air and his belly is flat as a pancake. The director gives us plenty of side views, both from above and nearly level with Yul’s body and it is very well done. This director knew how to showcase a man’s physique. Hell, enough of the platitudes... this scene is fucking hot!
We watched the entire film, Laura and I, on the couch. Frank watched, too, wrists strapped to his cross while standing on his rubber spikes. Nearly two hours viewing time gave me plenty of ideas for what to do with Frank.
Next insertion November 13
Nov. 13
By the time our film was over, Laura and I were horny again. As for Frank, I don’t think he ever stopped being horny. That orgasm he had didn’t change a thing.
I asked Laura if it was late enough to swim... naked.
“11:30... I’d say so.”
We unstrapped his arms from the cross and led him to the pool, Laura grabbing hold of his dick to use as a leash (my idea).
“Let’s get him wet so he’ll look sweaty, just like Yul.” That’s what I wanted to reproduce.
We shoved him into the deep end and swam with him for awhile, then Laura took his cock in hand to coax him out from the shallow end. I took two seat cushions from their lounge chairs and stacked them near pool’s edge, and then we made Frank lay across the top of them. She stretched out his legs and I did his arms.
“There you are, Frank. In the sweat house.” I refreshed his memory about the movie scene. “We’ll be nice and not tie you this time, because we know you’ll pose for us just like Yul Brynner did.
Laura and I got into the pool so we could have a side view. The water just barely covered our tits where we stood and Frank was about four feet away, stretched like a letter X with those cushions beneath the center of his back.
“Look at that, Laura. See how his sweat glistens in the moonlight?”
“Gorgeous... And look at that chest.”
“Yep. Sticking way up in the air.” My eyes inspected him from head to toe. “How about his belly? Don’t you love the way he exaggerates when he exhales? Makes it look like he’s really suffering.”
Frank was a damn good actor. He pretended to struggle against imaginary restraints, puffing up his chest and sucking in his belly. He’d lift his head and glare at us with his lower jaw extended, posing like a masculine hero.
He was such a good actor that Laura and I started making love. My penis was more than ready to go inside and her vagina was very ready to take me in. We stood with our bodies locked together, my pole poking her hole, our heads turned towards Frank and our cheeks pressed to one another.
Very few strokes were required. Laura started her high-pitched moans, suppressing them best she could so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. I tried to hold myself together so she could get off first, but Frank started moaning, too... low-pitched and man-like.
I couldn’t wait, but it was ok, because Laura’s inside contortions and poorly-suppressed cries signaled her orgasm had come, too. Our eyes stayed on Frank during the comedown and I was just about to let my cock slip out when we were interrupted.
“Frank? Laura? Are you back here?”
“Oh, shit!” Laura pulled away from me. “It’s the McKenzies.”
Nov. 14
“Who the hell are the McKenzies?” I whispered.
“They’re a couple we used to swing with.” Laura gingerly moved towards pool’s edge, trying not to splash or make waves. “Frank, what should we do?”
He whispered to her. “I am helpless. You and your unholy tortures. What do you want from me?”
You know, as if I didn’t already love him enough, that clever man nearly made me crack up with that one... staying in character as a way to tease his wife. Too bad I had to stay quiet, but Frank knew I enjoyed him. He was smiling at me like a mischievous prankster should.
“Damn it, Frank... Federal Dollars,” Laura safe-worded him. “Now, what should we do?”
“Fuck it. Don’t answer them. They’ll go away, eventually.”
Frank never moved. His big old cock laid on his belly and he kept himself stretched over those cushions. That beautiful son of a bitch. I just had to tell him.
“Hey Frank, I think you’ll be getting a little body worship... if these people ever get out of here.”
Laura followed his suggestion and moved towards me.
“So, these McKenzies,” I casually queried. “Are they into kink?”
“No, just four-ways.”
“Hmm... don’t tell me... let me guess. Since I’ve been coming over you’ve been ignoring them. Right?”
“Yes, damn it. They’ve been leaving phone messages. I guess I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“Oh, you won’t need to... there’s a woman looking at us right now. Is that her?”
Laura spun around to confirm it. Mr. McKenzie had hoisted his wife onto his shoulders so she could peek over the top of their security fence.
“Why, Frank,” said Ms. McKenzie. “I’ve never seen you looking so handsome.”
Nov. 15
“Skinny dipping, are we?” Already, this woman’s voice was irritating me. She got down off her husband’s shoulders, and then he shouted through the fence.
“Hey, Frank, Laura... mind if we join you?”
The best part to all of this was that Frank didn’t do a damn thing. He laid right there naked and all stretched out like nothing was going on, which of course did not please his wife.
“God damn it, Frank. Tell me what to do.”
“Well, shit, Laura. You’ve got to let them in. They’ve seen us naked before, so what the hell are you worried about?”
“Uh, a little thing called Jack. What do you want him to do?”
“Hey, Frank... want me to suck your dick so your pals can watch?”
Ain’t we men awful? Ganging up on Laura to make her more angry than she already was? Hell, bonding with Frank made me wanna suck on him for real.
“Sure, Jack. Might be a good way to get rid of them.”
I was about to do it until Laura stopped me. “All right, you clowns. Thanks for nothing. Get ready for the McKenzies.”
She got out of the water and let them in.
“Hey, you guys, long time, no see.” Mr. McKenzie wasted not time in peeling off his clothes and his wife followed suit, even though I never heard anybody say they could join us. Oh, well. They both were in the water with Laura and me in about 30 seconds.
“Jack, this is Richard and Margaret McKenzie... This is Jack McCutcheon.”
“Call me Dick,” he said. “Call me Maggie,” she said.
“Hi, Dick and Maggie. Call me Jack. There sure are a lot of Mc’s around here. Scotch or Irish?”
“So, uh, Frank, can’t you get it up for Laura anymore?” Dick asked to Frank who still hadn’t moved. Hmm... guess Dick didn’t find my opening question very interesting... dick.
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, it’s up right now.”
“Hey, it sure is.” Maggie apparently had a better memory than her husband. “You look uncomfortable, Frank. Why are you laying like that... trying to get a moon tan?”
“No, I’m waiting to get my dick sucked. Interested?”
I got the feeling that perhaps Frank hadn’t been so flippant about it with these people before, because what I thought was a very mature request was greeted with silence by them, almost like he had insulted poor Maggie. As for Laura, you will notice she was saying nothing, but I could see the steam rising from her ears.
Me? I’d just about had enough, and I’m proud to say that my Uncle Jasper came out of me. These people hadn’t earned my politeness or refinement, so I wasn’t going to give them any. Like Uncle J. says... ‘New people get my courtesy for about one minute, and if I don’t get any back, FUCK ‘EM!’ Since no one else seemed interested, I decided to find out how friendly these friends were gonna be.
“Well, shit, Frank.” I water-walked to pool’s edge right next to him. “If there ain’t any women around here that appreciate that pretty cock of yours...” I exited the pool. “...I’ll see what I can do.”
Nov. 16
“Oh, my god!” Maggie whined.
“Damn, Frank, that is sick,” Dick opined.
I guess they thought it was a joke... never thought I’d actually do it, but I sure as hell did and Frank’s dick was one hundred percent hard. He didn’t think it was sick, but naturally, those two had some pretty serious hangups about it.
“Holy cow, I can’t believe you’re letting him do that.” That was Maggie’s next expression of the shocked and amazed.
“Hell, Frank, I didn’t know you were queer... letting that faggot do that to you.”
Oops... dickhead Dick went a little too far with that one. I spit Frank out and Frank started to get up with me... until Laura said the first words out of her mouth since the McKenzies had come through her gate.
“All right, you two. Think he’s a fag, do you? I’ll show you what he is.”
She came out of the pool and joined us. “Frank, get your ass on that cushion.” He resumed his position of the tortured. “Come here, Jack, you beautiful son of a bitch.”
Laura laid down right there on that hard concrete next to her husband, pulling me down with her. Frank was there in full view and that’s all I needed. I mounted her and made it dramatic. I growled and I groaned and I grunted and I thrust my cock into her as though I didn’t care about her, then I remembered she was on concrete. Shit... I slowed my ass down in a hurry and made sure I hit her sweet spot. I reached over with my left hand and used Frank’s belly to keep me propped up and under control. My right hand was flat on the concrete and I focused on pleasing Laura, instead of showing off for the McPeaBrains.
“Laura, darling... you’re just like a milk shake... so thick... so creamy... I gotta stir you up... nice and slow.” That’s how I did it, and every time I rubbed her clittie, she squeaked... and she twitched. I put the belly claw to Frank and felt those hard-ass muscles of his... and I picked up the pace on Laura. I looked at Frank’s face. He had his head turned so he could get a good look, and he had just about the biggest smile a man could have... almost like he was telling us how proud he was of us... and Laura closed her eyes and squeezed the poop out of my cock... because she got off... and everybody there knew she got off... and then I got off and they knew that, too.
Couldn’t help notice the McKenzies weren’t saying much now... mother fuckers weren’t leaving either.
Frank goes, “Hey, Dick and Maggie... Jack's done wonders for our home life.”
One mission accomplished... they still had nothing to say... the silence sounded good.
“Nobody’s fag and nobody’s sick... not in our house... we don’t categorize people.” That was Laura’s contribution. “At our house... there’s only men and women... and Jack is one of the men... and Frank and I both love him... got it?”
Damn, (I thought to myself) ... that’s a rather heavy word. Maybe she was just using it for emphasis.
Nov. 17
Mr. & Ms. McKenzie got out of the pool and they did apologize, but not to me or Frank.
“Geez, Laura, I’m sorry,” said Ms. McK. “You should have told us you’d moved on to other things.”
“Maybe if you’d have returned our phone calls, we’d have known better than to barge in on you.” Dick was trying to make them feel guilty and it kinda worked.
“You’re right, Dick,” Laura answered. "I meant to call you before Frank and I went on vacation, but got so busy and all.”
Sure was sad watching them awkwardly try to dress when their bodies were dripping wet. Thing is, they weren’t too bad looking when they kept their mouths shut, and since I was still on a bit of a power trip I thought I’d see if I could trick them into staying.
“Hey, you two... don’t take it all so serious. Hell, it’s just sex.”
“Not the kind we’re interested in,” Dick said.
“So, what are you going to do? Go home and turn off the lights and try to remember what your bodies look like?”
“My wife can take care of me just fine.”
“Oh, yeah? Show us.”
“I wouldn’t give you the privilege. Maggie can suck a dick like nobody else and I sure as hell...”
“Hold on, Dick.” Maggie had been offended in a different way. “Let’s do it. We came over here because we were horny. Let’s show them what we can do.”
They asked if we could go inside for some privacy and of course we said yes. Frank and Laura took us all to the basement and the McKenzies tried to do it right there on the floor, but I guess Dick was a little bit nervous with me there. He couldn’t get it up.
“Well, Maggie,” Frank said. “Maybe if you suck on him awhile."
She coaxed him onto his back, while Laura, Frank and I sat all around them at a close distance. Dick laid there with his arms at his sides and all tensed up, while Maggie started sucking on him.
No good... she was strictly amateur and he could only get half-way hard. I looked at Laura and she looked at Frank and we all said to each other with our look but no words, ‘these people need help.’
I didn’t know what kinds of four-ways the McKenzies had been in to with Frank and Laura or anybody else, but they were about to get a lesson in lust from Jack and the Johnsons.
Next insertion Nov. 20
Nov. 20
Dick never said a word when Laura jumped in to help Maggie get him revved up. That’s because she smothered his face with her pussy hole, so about all he could do was make slurping sounds. We figured Dick would be fully erect in no time.
It never did happen. What did happen about 15 seconds after the assault began was that Dick tensed up and shot his load into Maggie’s mouth. Yep, I couldn’t believe it either. I had never seen a man have orgasm with a limp peter, but that’s exactly what he did. And I know for sure he did, because Maggie, the amateur, nearly choked on it and let a big gob dribble down onto his nuts.
Now, how the hell can you have any fun with a man like that? Where’s the reward for the rest of us?
Dick seemed rather proud of himself, while his wife seemed to be relieved that it was over. Thing is, Dick finally relaxed – after the event, as Laura kept sitting on his chest.
Guess what I saw? His pecker finally took off and got fully erect. Craziest damned thing I’ve ever seen. Drained with a limp dick, THEN he gets a hard on.
I looked at Frank and he knew what I was thinking.
“Well, Maggie, looks like your husband wants another blow job.” But as she reluctantly bent down to take him, Frank put his hand on her shoulder. He stared at me, and then looked at Dick’s cock.
Message understood.
Nov. 21
Frank made sure Maggie would never know what was going on. He did this by sprawling her onto the carpet on her back with his body between her eyes and her husband. Oh yeah, he also stuck his cock into her vagina, which kept her sufficiently entertained.
Meanwhile, Laura covered Dick’s face again, forcing him to eat her out. With both McKenzies occupied I did my thing, and although Dick was unable to confirm it in words, I will guarantee you that he’d never had his dick sucked like that before. He twitched and he squirmed and he howled gurgling expressions of ecstasy, while giving me a minuscule amount of semen – all that his balls could produce so soon after his wife had wasted his good load.
The downside to all of this is that Frank was allowed to have the wholly-satisfying orgasm we had denied him for so long. All of our hard work went down the drain – that drain being Maggie’s pussy. The upside is that Frank’s dick was the main reason Dick and Maggie McKenzie had left all those phone messages. She needed that monster inside her. She had felt it before, but had been denied it for too long. Once she got it, and once she nearly crumbled the walls with her screams of pleasure, both Maggie and Dick were ready to go home.
After Laura got off of his face, he stood up and in a rather indignant tone announced, “Well, we got what we came for. Come on, Maggie, let’s go home.” Dick never said a word about his blow job. I guess he was trying to convince himself that it never really happened, because he never looked at me.
Frank exited and rolled off the top of her, and then Maggie stood up and started to follow her husband towards the door. But she noticed something new in the basement against the wall. “Frank, what is that?”
“Oh, it’s just a frame where we torture people. Want me to give you a tour?”
Nov. 22
“Oh, Dick, look at this. Think of how much fun we could have with one of these.” Maggie’s eyes lit up, as she inspected Frank’s frame, but her husband seemed critical.
“I’m not into all that weird shit,” he snorted while hovering near the door. “Come on, we both got off, I’m tired. Let’s go... h...o...m...e.”
Dick lost his thought. That’s because his wife had jumped up and grabbed hold of those two leather straps. When he saw her hanging like that, Dick was transfixed on her form. He meandered towards her, walking left and right to view from all angles. Of course, Maggie couldn’t hang on her own for more than a few seconds and she dropped.
“Wait a minute, honey. Do that again.”
She did for as long as she could and I think I know what he was seeing. Maggie’s tits are the kind that look like a ski slope. The tops have an indented curve, ending at her nipples. But when she stretches them, they become beautifully round with the nipples perfectly centered. The overall appearance is that of two juicy targets, with her brown pointy nipple tips the bull’s eyes.
“Show me how this works, Frank,” Dick insisted.
Guess the McKenzies still weren’t ready to let us get back to what we had been doing... and that was fine with us.
Nov. 23
Laura got the padded cuffs from her closet, and then Frank and I got Maggie set up. With our new victim hanging there suspended by her wrists, the Johnsons and I stepped back to see what Dick was going to do. He stalked her for awhile, pacing back and forth to inspect his prisoner, and then reached up with both hands to fondle her tits while verbally taunting.
“Well, fair lady. You got yourself into quite a fix, didn’t you?”
He flicked his tongue onto her nipple tip, and Maggie reacted like a proper submissive. She recoiled, pulling her tit away from him, but her dominating husband put his hand to her deltoid and brought her forward to re-establish his authority. Dick resumed his assault, using his hands, lips and tongue on both of Maggie’s breasts.
“You must not resist me. It will only make matters worse. You are mine, dear one. I will do with you as I please.”
Now, you probably have guessed that prior to this there had been no reason for me to admire or show any interest whatsoever in Dick McKenzie, but this Dick was a different man. This Dick was much more intriguing. His short, stocky, and mostly hairless frame became more attractive, plus I was growing fond of his slightly rounded, but still-firm belly. His air of manly domination was far preferable to that of a whining asshole, and his cock played its role as well. It was a perfectly proportional tool – about six and a half inches in length, one and a half in width.
So, I thought I might try to soften his attitude towards me.
“Sir,” I approached from his left. “May I have a taste of this pitiful woman?”
“Yes. Prepare her below, while I attack her above.”
That meant he wanted me to lick her pussy, which I did, while he mouthed and manipulated her tits, which he did.
Hers was a heavenly sliver of meat, handsomely framed by closely-cropped, dark brown hair. Her pink was dangling a bit and retracted when it felt my tongue. Maggie pulled her hips away from me, so I clamped onto her butt cheeks and returned her to my mouth. It didn’t take her long to surrender, because whether she knew it or not, her legs spread open inches at a time as I dug my tongue in deeper and deeper.
And above me, I could hear her husband slurping and kissing, with slight grunts rumbling beneath his breath. Maggie’s moans raised in pitch and volume, little by little, as Dominating Dick and Jack-of-all-trades Jack ravaged her helplessly suspended and exposed hot spots.
Nov. 24
Dick and I were becoming best of friends... partners, if you will. I assisted him with the torment of the helpless female. Kneeling before her, I orally assaulted her pussy, as she spread her legs and arched her back to accept my vagina-invading tongue. Dick’s feet and legs straddled me. He leaned forward to paint her tits with saliva, licking and kissing, while smearing the wetness all around with his hands, fingers and thumbs.
Our prisoner was losing herself in our two-pronged worship. She relished her helplessness, dramatizing her state of torment with groans of ecstatic agony, while arching her back to surrender her tits and spreading her legs to sacrifice her pussy.
There was a tension in the air, as Mr. & Mrs. McKenzie explored for the first time a new kind of sexual excitement. The thrill of total surrender and trust for her... the thrill of dominating power for him... their journey was taking them to new heights of satisfaction. Maggie’s undulations and moans intensified, as my tongue targeted her clittie. I could feel Dick’s hard pecker poking me between my shoulder blades. His pre-cum was dribbling and smearing my skin with sticky goodness. Perhaps they did not realize how close they were to blowing their loads, but I did, and I did not want them to waste this moment.
I removed my tongue from her. “Sir, the woman is ready for destruction. It is time for her to feel your power. Please use me as your stool for elevation.”
He moved aside and I laid on my back in front of Maggie’s feet, just barely below her dangling toes.
Dick stepped up with his bare feet onto my torso... one on my stomach, one on my chest. I tensed my body and turned my head to the right, where Laura and Frank were standing silently, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. They were spectators thoroughly entertained, as Frank sported a boner and Laura was dark with wetness.
I watched from below as Dick entered the helpless female. With his hands clamped firmly onto her hips, he guided his wife to and fro, impaling her on his manly rod. Finally, Frank and Laura involved themselves by standing behind her, fondling her breasts with their hands. And then, Dick completed her undoing. He stood firm and stationary on my torso, while manipulating Maggie’s pussy to cover and smother his cock. He jacked himself with her snapper. He pounded her meat to hamburger until she screamed in painful delight... and Dick McKenzie answered his woman’s call with the grunts of a caveman.
If you ask me, I had the best seat in the house. I suspected that after a brief intermission, the McKenzies would somehow be lured further into our play.
Next insertion November 27
Nov. 27
Maggie definitely was ready to come down. She was just hanging and gasping for air, totally exhausted from what most likely was the best orgasm she’d had in months. Dick seemed kind of bedraggled, too. After he pulled out, he stepped down off of me and immediately laid on the floor on his back, also sucking air.
I sprang to my feet to help Frank bring Maggie down. We removed her cuffs and she joined her husband, laying her head on his chest with her body in a fetal position next to him.
Frank, Laura and I knelt around their feet and legs. We started to rub and massage their feet and legs, both McKenzies too weary to care whose hands were doing what. I guess the Johnsons and I never realized how much we thought alike. We were totally in synch and our attention upon the McKenzies proved it. None of us spoke, because we were waiting to hear what Dick and/or Maggie would say about what they had just experienced. No prodding from us would be allowed.
Neither of them said anything for what seemed forever. We were beginning to wonder if they had dozed off, but when one of them did speak, it certainly wasn’t what I expected to hear. It was Dick and it had nothing to do with their recent session of Dom/sub fucking.
“Jack, you’re all right. Sorry I was so uptight.”
“Uh... no problem, Dick. We learn as we go.”
“You have a very talented mouth,” Maggie added. “I was primed and ready when Dick did his thing.”
“You can thank Laura for that. I’d never tasted one before until I met these two.”
That was a stupid thing to say, because naturally they wanted to know our history, but we didn’t feel like going into it. Instead, Laura told them to lay on their bellies and both of them got back rubs. Laura convinced them to spend the night, setting them up in a guest bedroom.
“Now, don’t you two do anything but sleep,” Frank warned. “We’ll be looking for you in the morning. Save yourselves for us.”
And with the McKenzies safely tucked away, Laura, Frank and I collapsed onto the Johnson bed. It was 3 am more or less. We suggested Frank get in the middle. Laura and I used his chest and belly for pillows and we plotted our next move... which would come sometime later Sunday morning... or afternoon.
Nov. 28
Good news is that we didn’t need to wake up the McKenzies, because they woke us up horny and ready for action; bad news is that the clock said 8:00 am, a little too early for me and the Johnsons.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you crazy woman?” That’s what I said to Maggie, as she pumped my piss-hard-on hard cock in her fist.
“Come on, people,” she enthusiastically urged. “It’s time to play.”
Frank, like me, was none too pleased, but used his anger fake or real to spring the plot. “Wanna play, do you? All right, lady. You’ve got it.” Maggie had fallen right into our trap.
He sprang off the mattress and reached under the bed to retrieve our restraint system. “Everybody clear off the bed.” We did and Frank stacked the three pillows in the center. He tossed two ends of the straps to me and together we set up the under-mattress bondage device. “Now, sweetheart,” Frank pointed to Maggie. “Get your ass on that bed.”
She laid down and I grabbed her left wrist. “Hey, Dick, do something useful and get her other wrist.” We got Maggie stretched out over those pillows with her tits sticking up in the air, and while Dick and I secured her wrists, Frank took care of her ankles. In a flash, Maggie was stretched spread eagle. Her spine was curved backwards, chest up and belly flat. It was nice – for everybody but her.
Frank decided we wouldn’t be needing Laura for anything other than assisting us. “Inform her of the safe word and how this works. Then go get the wand.”
Laura obeyed, while Frank and I simultaneously added our pee to the toilet water.
“Maggie’s kind of a hottie,” I told him.
“Yeah, she loves to have her tits worked over.”
“So, that’s why you wanted her over the pillows. Good idea. Those are the hottest of her hottie parts.”
When Laura returned from her basement closet of goodies, Frank gave her another task. “Give the Hitachi to Dick. Then you can go cook our breakfast.”
“For everybody?”
“Yes. Even her.”
Apparently Dick had manipulated the wand before, because he powered it up and tested the two speeds, sporting a full erection the whole time. Meanwhile, Frank and I crawled onto the bed on either side of Maggie and Frank set the mood.
“All right, you rude, thoughtless, worthless female... ruin my sleep, will you?” He knelt next to the right side of her chest, leaned over and smothered her titty with his mouth. I watched him for a minute or two, enjoying the sight of my manly man Frank ravishing the helpless woman’s tit. Maggie already was playing her part well, turning her head side to side, raising her chest higher and sucking her belly lower, which of course turned me on even more.
It was amazing to me how her tits could be so average-looking in their normal state, while when stretched they became electrifying. The damned things formed two perfectly circular balloons about 6 inches round. And in the center of each were exact, rounded nipples in circles of one and a half inches. The tips were also majestically centered, rising about 3/4 of an inch from the surface, and each nipple was colored a heavenly, medium-brown with just a hint of a reddish hue.
As soon as I put my mouth to her left tit, Frank removed his from her right. “Woman, I think you better apologize for interrupting our sleep.”
Maggie pulled against her restraints, which made her chest expand and breasts raise up even higher. “Never.”
“You better say you’re sorry.”
“I’ll never say it.”
“I think you will.” Frank joined me in a simultaneous assault of her pitifully vulnerable titties. Oh, god, how she writhed.
She lifted her head to watch us torture her nipples. “Ugh, you sadistic bastards. What are you doing to me?”
“Are you going to say you’re sorry?”
She looked at her saliva-soaked left tit, then the right, and then she dropped her head to the mattress, turning it side to side with her eyes closed. She was grunting, moaning, arching her back to thrust those breasts deeper into our mouths. And yes, I could see her upper teeth flashing just a hint of a pleasured smile.
Without interrupting his oral assault, Frank pointed to her pussy and Dick joined the game. He clicked the switch and the wand made a buzz. I kept on licking, while watching Dick put the tip of that thing to the top of her hood. Maggie’s body tensed, as she tried to bring her legs together, which of course her straps would not allow. She looked up between Frank’s head and my head to see her dastardly husband torturing her pussy, as he worked the wand into her a fraction of an inch, then pulled it back to the hood. Each time he forced it in just a little deeper, working it side to side and lifting the curve to vibrate the top lip of her vagina.
“Are you sorry, now?” Frank asked between tit-sucking.
“Ugh,” was her answer, as she dropped her head back to the mattress. Maggie no longer was grunting... she was moaning every time she exhaled. Her legs no longer fought the restraints... they were opening up wider.
Dick kept working the wand, as now his penetration was about half its total length. He added to her punishment by putting his face to her stretched belly. He licked it; he kissed it; and he buried his tongue into her tragically elongated navel. I decided to devote my hands to her torment, joining my tongue and lips. My right hand clamped around her bicep/tricep. I squeezed and pushed it down to further stretch her arm pit and the skin leading to her breast. My left hand rubbed flat on her lower chest and upper stomach, heating her skin with warm friction.
Warm did not describe what was happening inside our helpless female. Her husband targeted that wand to her G-spot and the poor woman convulsed. Her entire body tensed, and then she twitched and contorted as though electricity was running through her. The sounds she made grew louder, the pitch-level sang higher and higher.
Oh, it is one hell of a scene for a woman to be stretched spread-eagle, her vulnerable breasts thrust high into the air while two men ravage them with lips and tongues; her tight, flattened belly mercilessly assaulted by another man’s lips and tongue, her abdominal wall made even more beautiful by the woman herself sucking in that belly as far as it could go; her helplessly unprotected, spread-wide-open pussy invaded by the tantalizing vibration, her vaginal walls and muscles quivering inside and out, inviting three dominant males to torture her more... more... MORE!
Her talented husband buried the tool completely into her and turned up the power. He manipulated the evil impaler in and out, side to side in a torturously slow and ecstatically mind-blowing buzz-fuck... and our woman spewed. She arched her back until I thought her spine would snap. She screamed with each gravelly-throated exhale – exhales which came few and far between. Her body flexed to capacity; her fists clenched and toes curled; her head shook side to side and she coated that wand with her milk.
Finished, her body collapsed, but only for a few seconds. Dick continued to poke her with his hand-held dick and she convulsed for another round of orgasmic writhing. Her second coming was expressed with pleadings for mercy.
“Oh, god... I’m sorry... Yes, yes, yes... I am sorry, Frank... Forgive me, Jack... Dick... oh, god, please stop... you fucking men... god, I am so sorry... oh, god, yes, please.... no more... please...god, not again... no... I’ll be good... please forgive me... ...”
Well, you get the idea. She wanted it to end and she wanted it to never end. Poor thing couldn’t decide. Round number two for Maggie seemed to go on for several minutes, all accompanied by unbridled writhing and verbal expression, until Dick finally withdrew the wand and turned off the switch. Maggie collapsed in total exhaustion, while we three men rubbed her down with our rough, masculine hands.
What a trooper this woman was. She renewed her writhing from our touch, smiling pleasurably and moaning with satisfied “Mmm’s.” Frank, Dick and I looked at one another and were quite pleased with what we had done to her, but, being men, we quickly forgot about it when Laura came into the room.
“Breakfast is ready, boys.”
“Thank god,” Frank exclaimed. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” I added. “What about her?”
Frank grinned. “Men eat first. Women get the leftovers.”
And you will notice that nobody said anything about "Federal Dollars."
Nov. 29
Laura had set the table for five, but only four were seated. She’d cooked us scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and cut up a bunch of fruit. After everybody had gotten their fill, Frank fixed a plate for Maggie, handed it to me and downed the last of his coffee.
“Jack, you’re coming with me. You two can clean up this mess.”
“But, why do I have to do kitchen work?” Dick wanted to know.
“Can it, McKenzie!” Laura answered his question. “In this house, Frank’s the king... we’re the peons.”
“And Jack’s my jester. Come on, fool. Let’s go feed our prisoner.”
How’s that for a role-play flip-flop? Without the McKenzies, Frank was our slave; with them, he was top dog. Now I had to decide which I liked better. First thing he said to Maggie was the safe words, which was a smart move. This was only her second time in bondage with us, and this time her husband was not with her.
“Maggie, is everything all right? Do you need to go to the bathroom or anything?”
“Well, I’m ok. My back hurts a little and I’m starving.”
“As you can see, Jack brought a plate.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Ok, darling. We’re going to play some games. Don’t forget... say Federal Dollars if you want us to stop... understand?”
“Yes, Frank. Federal Dollars.”
Frank kissed Maggie on the lips, and then motioned for me to kneel on the mattress space between Maggie’s face and the headboard... between her stretched arms.
“Jack, this woman would like her breakfast now.” He winked at me and slightly turned his head side to side.
“Well, let’s see. We have some eggs; we have some toast... and fruit... oh, here we go... let’s start with the bacon.”
I grabbed two strips and set the plate down. Holding one of each between the fingers and thumb of my right and left hand, I waved them in front of Maggie’s face. She opened wide, I thrust it towards her mouth and quickly pulled it back.
“It’s not right to waste such good-tasting bacon,” I teased. “They will probably taste better here.”
Holding each strip flat, I placed them atop the tips of her nipples and used them to scratch her.
“Hey, Jack, come on. Enough silliness. Let me have some.”
Frank had already got himself on all fours, his knees between her thighs and hands straddling her rib cage.
“Lady,” I addressed her. “I think you misunderstood what we said. FRANK is going to feed you. This food on the plate is for him.” And with that, Frank snatched one piece of bacon from her tit with his teeth, while inserting his hard dick to the opening of her vagina.
“Oh, you sons-a-bitches!” Maggie was not pleased. “What did I do this time?”
“What did you do?” Frank gobbled the other strip of bacon. “You got your nasty cunt juice on my very expensive pillows. That’s what you did.”
Frank kept his cock at the portal of her vagina. Only his corona had entered, as he waited for the next course. I made clumps of scrambled eggs with my hands and placed one ball apiece onto her nipples.
“Well, you shouldn’t have put your damn pillows underneath me.”
“There’s no need to be indignant,” I scolded. “Besides, nothing you say will matter now anyway. Will it, Frank?”
Frank was busy swallowing his eggs. After the balls were sent down the hatch, he licked all remnants from her nipples with a heavy, scraping tongue. There were two pieces of toast with butter and jelly. I laid them atop her breasts, then forced them down until her nipples pierced through the center of the bread.
“I don’t want toast.” Frank whined.
“Well, don’t eat it then,” I barked. We admired the configuration of Maggie’s handsome nipples sticking straight up through the middle of the broken toast... trickles of butter and jelly dribbling onto the meat of her breasts.
“Here, have these.” I put strawberries onto her tits. Frank ate them. Next came wedges of cantaloupe. Frank at those, too. As for Maggie, she was starting to get into it. Her eyes were closed and mouth shut. The roundness of her nipples was shrinking and her tips were rising. There was pineapple, then more egg balls, then Frank simply ate Maggie’s tits.
“Aren’t you filled up yet, Frank?” I asked him, in order to taunt her. “If you don’t want that toast, get out of the way and I’ll eat it.”
He moved away so that I could get at her. I lifted with my tongue the tit-framing bread from her right breast and chomped it, sending crumbs to roll down her balloon. Piece by piece, I stuffed my mouth, until nothing was left on her breast besides spilled butter, jelly and crumbs. And as I proceeded to lick away the mess I had made, Frank started to slow grind her pussy while kissing the crown of my head. Her right tit licked clean, I moved onto the left to repeat the process.
Frank fed her heavenly hole with slow strokes, penetrating with half his cock and rubbing his mushroom onto her clitoris. We started to hear familiar moans coming from our starved prisoner, while her undulations made it an adventure for me to get that toast into my mouth. But I did succeed and I did lick the hell out of her tit to get all the butter and jelly, not to mention getting Maggie to moan a little louder.
“And now, my dear, if you truly are hungry, I suggest you eat this.” I positioned my cock near her semi-inverted face and coaxed her to open her mouth. It didn’t take much coaxing, as she eagerly wrapped her lips around the head of my dick. I held my position, keeping myself steady for her to suck, while I watched Frank’s beautiful ballet. He masterfully swivelled his hips, targeting the head of his dick to rub on her clittie from left, right, above and below. And then, he lowered himself atop her raised chest. He smashed her titties with his furry chest and took his cock to the depths of her pussy. Maggie shuddered, as did I. Naturally, it scared me when she was jolted because she had my dick in her mouth, but she professionally maintained control. I never felt her teeth, only her lips and tongue.
As Frank lifted off of her to resume targeting her clit, I leaned forward to mouth her titties, while gently thrusting my dick to and fro. I didn’t really expect to get off. After all, her tongue was on the wrong side of my cock, but watching Frank approach her in the same, tantalizingly slow manner got me fired up pretty good. Neither one of us were there for any other reason but to get her off, and we definitely did that in a big way, but Maggie’s orgasmic cries and undulations brought Frank to the brink, while his performance did the same to me. I pulled out of her mouth so I could jack my load onto her tits; and Frank pulled out so he could jack his load onto her belly.
“Here, sweetheart... here’s your breakfast.” Frank scooped his come from her belly and stuck his finger into her mouth. I smeared my jizz with both hands all over her tits, then let her lick my fingers and palms dry.
“Are you happy, now?” I asked her. She answered with affirmatives, some of which were actual words, but mostly just garbled expressions accented with slurping.
“Well, Jack, we better see if those two got my kitchen cleaned up.”
We left Maggie without safe wording her. I carried the plate with remaining food while following Frank, and when we turned the corner into the kitchen, it was clean but they were gone. We went to the living room... empty. We went to the guest bedroom and Frank opened the door. Naked Dick was gliding back and forth across the top of our naked cook, who looked over his shoulder and smiled at us.
"Hi, boys. We cleaned your kitchen, but Dick got tired of waiting for you."
“Well, I’ll be god damned go to hell.” I got that from Uncle J., in case you’ve never listened to any of our broadcasts.
Frank added. “Some people have got a lot of nerve, eh, Jack? Turning my house into a whore house.”
“Yeah, and with your wife, no less. Didn’t even have the courtesy to ask you.”
Nov. 30
Remember how on Saturday we made Frank get the pool ready for use? Well, today, that would be Dick’s duty. We never said another word to Dick and Laura, just closed the door and went back to Maggie.
“Federal Dollars,” Frank let her out and we both removed her straps. “Maggie, your husband has been a very bad boy.”
“I wondered where he went. What’s he doing?”
“Well, right now, he’s in your room fucking my wife.”
“Are you shitting me? That son of a bitch.”
Frank and I chuckled with glee, as we helped Maggie limber up her spine so she could roll off the mattress.
“I’m going to kill that bastard.” She started to go towards the guest bedroom, with me and Frank right behind her, but then she stopped. “Frank, do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Let’s go to Laura’s closet.”
Imagine my shock when Maggie picked out a rubber dick from the shelf. Were they actually going to do what I was thinking?
“Where’s the lube, Frank?”
Holy shit. They seemed to be heading in that direction. I couldn’t believe it. Of course, I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking to myself. ‘Are you going to tell me that Mr. Macho, who was so offended at the thought of some queer touching him, liked cock up his ass?’ Well, cousins (as Uncle Jasper would say), that is exactly what they did.
Maggie burst into the room. “Dick, you low down son of a bitch. Like to fuck, do you? Well, fine. You can have it at both ends.”
She greased that thing up, while Frank and I stood to watch. It wasn’t any monster... one of those black ones about 10 inches – but as Maggie lubed it up and pressed it between Dick’s butt cheeks, he raised his ass a few inches, ready and willing to take it. His own cock was still inside Laura, and as Maggie shoved the head of that dildo past the rim of his ass, Dick started thrusting forward to fuck her, then raised his ass to take more dildo. Each time he withdrew from Laura, his wife would force that thing into him a little deeper, until he eventually took it all. From then on, she kept it plugged into his ass while he screwed the woman laying under him.
Frank was not into this. His dick was limp. I wasn’t either. My dick was limp. But obviously the McKenzies had done this before on their own, as well as with the Johnsons.
Dick got off and Laura got off, then we all made plans for the day, but I can tell you that from that point on, I lost all interest in Dick McKenzie... the fucking hypocrite. Of course, this event at the Johnson home predates, but when I heard recently of that guy in Colorado... Haggard... I thought of Dick McKenzie. Same mind set. Big time preacher railing against the sins of homosexuality, when he’s a little closet queer himself. Made me wish that dildo Maggie used had been about two times bigger. I wish she would have, as they say, torn him a new asshole.
This is probably going to piss some people off, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s a free read, so if you don’t like it, skip it. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong, but I ain’t into assholes. All I can think of is shit... and shit smells bad... and bad smells ruin good sex. I’ve always loved men, (and thanks to the Johnsons, I now know I love women, too), but I need a man to be a man. To me, taking a dick up your ass is not being a man.
Laura took Maggie to the kitchen to fix her some breakfast (around noon?), while we men donned swim trunks and made Dick clean the pool. That’s how the afternoon was spent – swimming (with suits), sunbathing, napping, and raiding the fridge whenever we felt like it.
I said very little to Dick throughout the day, but enjoyed conversations and water play with his wife and Laura and Frank. At one point, I managed to have a private conversation with Frank. We were both in the kitchen, while the others were outside.
“Hey, I’ve got some real problems with Dick McKenzie.”
“Yeah, Jack, I can tell.”
“Too bad we can’t get rid of him and keep Maggie.”
“Well, let me work on it. I’ll come up with something.”
I actually was hoping the McKenzies would decline when Laura asked them to stay for dinner, but they accepted and we all five worked in the kitchen together. After we finished eating, everybody kind of sat around wondering how we should get back into some sort of role play. And just as he promised, Frank came through for me.
“Maggie, I don’t know about you, but I’m still pissed at your husband and my wife for their little adventure.”
“Yes, Frank. They could have at least asked your permission.”
“What do you think we should do with them?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Well, I think your husband should be forced to watch us have our own fun.”
“I trust your judgement, Frank. Show me what to do.”
Frank had put some planning into this. He walked over to one of the cabinets. “Your husband needs to be kept on a short leash. And here it is.”
He handed Maggie a leather collar with ring and leash attached. She secured the velcro-connecting collar around Dick’s neck and stood ready with leash in hand. He never made a move or said a word.
“Come on, Laura.” Frank took his wife by the hand. “I know you are smart enough to take your punishment without resisting me.”
With Frank in the lead, we headed for the basement, Maggie tugging her husband along to take up the rear.
“Everybody strip.”
Goodbye, damp bathing suits..Frank got me to help him cuff Laura’s wrists, and then we got her suspended. He opened the latch on the upper set of wooden stocks, and then lifted the top half to separate them. They were about three feet off the floor and were designed with three holes, instead of the lower stocks that had two (remember, that’s where Laura and I had Frank’s feet when we did the feather thing). On the upper stocks, two holes were for wrists and one in the middle was for the neck. Frank took the leash from Maggie and dragged Dick towards the device. Leaving the leather collar on him, Frank forced Dick to bend over with his neck resting in the middle half-circle, while Maggie and I put his wrists into the two on either side. Frank closed the hinged top half of the stock and locked it.
Dick was bent at the waist about 90 degrees, with his body outside of the frame supports. His wrists were in holes about one foot on either side of his head, and his face looked towards the floor inside the frame supports. His feet were flat on the carpet and unrestrained. He could see Laura if he turned his head to the right, but it was not a comfortable move to make.
“Well, Maggie, I think these two should learn the proper way to do things. And who better to show them than the three of us?”
Frank went to the closet and motioned for me to follow him. He never said a word, just handed me a tube of lube and a condom.
He and Maggie proceeded to lay on the floor in front of Laura’s dangling feet and below Dick’s immobilized head. They embraced, laying side to side, kissing one another and rubbing their bodies together. Once Frank rolled on top of her, and invaded her, my dick took off like a rocket.
I didn’t really have much desire to fuck Dick McKenzie. It certainly couldn’t match the loving warmth of a pussy hole or a talented mouth, but as I kindly worked my way into his vulnerable ass, I began to get a bit of satisfaction... not from the act, but from the reason I was doing it.
Frank had set this up for me, and I began to understand why. I was not cruel. I did not fuck in a way to hurt him, but I did call him some ugly names. This was only because he had called me ugly names, and now, even though he couldn’t have stopped me if he wanted to, he took my cock up his ass and liked it. His dick was hard and it wasn’t just because he was watching Frank fuck his wife. It was also because of what I was doing to him and my name-calling that went with it. Bitch.
It’s too bad, really. I kind of liked him when he had been Dick the Dominator, working on his suspended wife while standing on top of me. He had turned me on then. His body and his cock were growing on me. I had totally forgiven him for all the smart-ass comments he had made, but no more.
Revenge is a dish best served hot, with ass-fucking... if you can stand the smell.
Friday is December 1st, but look for my insertion right here on this page.
Dec. 1
I guess you could say that Dick’s fascination with his rectum kind of put a damper on things. I never shot my load into that condom... just kept fucking him until I heard Frank and Maggie make their orgasmic music. I pulled out and best I can remember, nobody bothered to get Dick off. Laura looked bored hanging by her wrists... beautiful, but bored.
Maggie was the only one that looked satisfied. After all, she had felt Frank’s heavenly penis inside her three times in less than 24 hours and I think she got her fix. She looked up at him, and as soon as he withdrew his fading peter from her overdosed vagina, she acknowledged her gratitude and made an announcement.
“Well, Frank, Laura... Jack. This has been a blast. My husband looks worn out. I know I am, so I think we will leave it with you.”
Actually, her husband looked heartbroken and dejected, but none of us were going to argue with her. Laura and myself and Frank were ready for each other, and Frank helped to move things along.
“Yeah. I think everybody’s bushed. Let me get Dick out of those stocks. Jack, you and Maggie get Laura down.”
And that was the end of our games. After the McKenzies cleared out, Frank, Laura and I spent the rest of Sunday and Monday wallowing in their bed... no more swimming... no more basement... no more under-mattress straps.
We slept together, showered together, piddled in the kitchen to bring chow back onto the bed, where we ate together. We talked and we made love... two-on-one sessions of body worship.
It was confirmed to me that Maggie had used that dildo before on her husband in their presence.
“That was kind of what you’d call the beginning of the end,” Laura explained. “Frank and I watched it for awhile, but it did nothing for us.
“Yeah, I started making love to Laura, so we wouldn’t have to watch any more of it.” Frank reached over and rubbed my belly. “That was the weekend before I busted in on you and Jasper, when I interrupted your broadcast.”
“We only got together with them once more after that, until now.” Laura was on the other side of me. They had me sandwiched with me on my back, they on their sides rubbing me with their hands. Before long, they were up on their knees hovering over me, using their hands and their mouths – both to talk and to kiss, lick and nibble.
I didn’t want to know how they’d met the McKenzies. I didn’t want to know anymore about the McKenzies, but I did finally get around to asking about Laura’s comment.
“Hey, you guys made me feel pretty good when they first crashed our pool party... when you let them know you were on my side.”
“I’m sure our snubbing them hurt their feelings,” Laura said. “But there was no excuse for calling anybody names... especially since we’d already seen Dick’s dildo trick. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to accuse you of anything, Jack.”
"Well, me? I could understand that,” I conceded. “After all, I was sucking Frank’s cock. But calling Frank queer took a lot of guts.”
“All right, you two.” Frank’s patience had ended. “Let’s drop it. I’m sick of the McKenzies. We’ve got what we need and he’s right here.”
We did shut up, as I received a heavy dose of praise, climaxed by Laura riding my cock while Frank fed me his. I guess they do love me, just like Laura said. I know I love them. Our three-day, Labor Day weekend festival only solidified what had already started. If I’m turning your stomach with all this mush, too bad. Mr. and Ms. Johnson have made me a very happy man, and the bottom line is that its all about Frank. It doesn’t matter if he’s the top dog, barking orders and running the show, or if he’s the tortured slave, pretending to suffer while defying us like a he-man. Frank is always THE MAN, and without him I wouldn’t be there.
I’m going to limit my insertions during December to, say... three times a week. Everybody’s busy – you, me, and the Johnsons, but maybe I can give you some stimulation to get you through this hectic month. There’s plenty that has happened since that weekend and our relationship is ongoing, so I’ll save the highlights – the events I remember most – for sporadic insertions.
And yes, the McKenzies have joined us a few times, but the emphasis has been on the missus, while the mister has been considerably downgraded. It’s the only way Frank and I will accept him into our family. You’ll see. I keep no secrets.
We’ll start Tuesday, Dec. 5.


Dec. 5
There were two nights in late September when Frank came over to my place. He was there to help us record Balance Beam, and even though the story gave us erections, Jasper and Jardonn were there, too, so we couldn't do much about it. Frank played the tortured hero; I played the antagonist; Jardonn played my assistant and Jasper was the narrator. How's that for a stretch?
For the most part, we were pleased with the results and I think Frank did the best job, although I liked him better in Germanicus Divine. In that one his was the only voice... and as you can guess I love his voice. Besides, anything from ancient Rome turns me on and visions of Frank on a stretch rack drive me crazy. And since I'm off subject, I might as well tell you that the text version of Germanicus Divine is the first story in Jardonn's paperback, I'll Never Tell. This is a shameless promotion, I know, but this is his web site and without him there would be no Jasper broadcasts and no Jack's Insertions. Why shouldn't I promote his book? We are all proud of it, and the second one about the Bishop is even better, in my opinion. It's a full-length story of dungeon torture. If all this McCutcheon/Smith family flag-waving offends you, I'm sorry... NOT.
Frank wanted me to be there for Laura's first listening session of Balance Beam, and so on a Saturday evening I visited and she fired up her computer. I clicked on the MP3's and we sat back to enjoy, just like we were listening to old time radio, except we were naked. Hmm... do you suppose people used to get naked, listen to Jack Benny and jack off? There was quite of bit of sexual innuendo to some of those broadcasts... his and many others... if you listen closely.
Laura liked what she heard. I could tell because she was juicy, and of course it was plain to see that Frank and I were proud of ourselves.
"So, dear wife, shall we try to re-create this little tale?"
"Ooh, Frankie, that would be a delightful treat."
Now, I'm sure that Laura was thinking like I was. We figured on using pillows or perhaps some sort of flat bench to substitute for the beam, so imagine our surprise when Frank took us to the basement and told us to wait there. He went into the garage and brought back his secret project. He had constructed a wooden frame very similar to an actual balance beam, but much shorter in length.
I, for one, thought he had lost his mind. "Frank, are you nuts? You'll break your friggin' back on that thing."
Laura agreed. "Honey, I think it's a bit much. Can't we just do something simpler?"
"Come on, Frank. Jardonn's story is just a fantasy. How long do you think you could take that for real? You know my cousin's brain is warped."
"We wouldn't even have time to get you off, Frank," Laura added. "You'd be safe-wording us before we could get started."
We ganged up on him pretty good, and from the look on his face, you'd think we had reached into his chest cavity and yanked out his heart. "Fine... killjoys."
He started to haul his contraption back to the garage, while Laura and I looked at each other with guilt. It should also be noted that, as scary as that thing looked, visions of him trying to take it had my dick fully charged.
"Oh, what the hell," I stopped him. "If you want to try it, we'll try it. I guess you'll need us to be your milking machine."
"No." He sat down the frame. "I've got one."
Next is Dec. 8
Dec. 8
Laura and I waited for Frank to get whatever machine he had in mind from out of the garage. When he came back, the joke was on me.
“Jack, I want you to meet my milker, Maggie McKenzie.”
“Hello, Jack. I believe you’ve met my shit-for-brains husband, Dick.”
Maggie was naked. Her husband was anything but, assuming it truly was her husband. He was encased in black leather... boots, pants, top and hood and gloves. The hood had two eye holes, two nose holes and a zipper over his mouth. Around his neck was a black collar with metal eye rings all around. His wrists were handcuffed and the chain linking the cuffs was threaded through an eye hook at the back of his neck. Only one part of this man’s skin was exposed and that was his crotch, where an opening in the leather allowed his balls and cock to hang free and open. With an inspection from a safe distance, I tried to remember what those things looked like last time I’d bothered to look, and yes, I do believe the man mummified in leather was indeed Dick McKenzie.
A chain was hooked to one of the front-side eye hooks on his collar, and Maggie used this chain as a leash to lead him towards us.
“Where do you want him, Frank?” Maggie asked.
“Tie him up over there for now.” He pointed to the frame. “We’ll probably have to move him out of the way later.”
As Maggie wrapped her end of the chain around one of the support beams, Laura had a better idea. “No, wait a minute. Have her put him back in his cage, Frank. Jack’s seen him. We don’t need him. Just get him the hell out of here.”
This I had to see. I followed Maggie as she returned him to the garage, where they’d set up one of those dog kennels, about 3 feet high and 5 feet wide. It was the kind with strips of metal woven up and down, side to side, making a prison comprised of small squares. She led him to the open door and he obediently entered, then sat down with legs crossed Indian-style. It was a perfect fit. Inside there was a large plastic bowl with water, and another one empty for him to piss in, or at least that’s my assumption. Both bowls were made to be used by a dog, which apparently is what Dick McKenzie now was to her... and to us. She closed and locked the cage door, as Frank came up behind us.
“Well done, woman. Now, Jack, we will prepare our milker.”
He retrieved another miniature balance beam just like the one he’d brought into the basement.
“Where the hell did you get those things, Frank?” I was curious. “Did you make them?”
“No. I got ‘em at the hardware store. They’re heavy-duty saw horses. Haven’t you ever seen one?”
"Obviously, I have not.”
“Grab that board right there.” He pointed to one leaning against the wall... about one foot by six... and I followed him and Maggie back to the basement. She turned off the lights to leave her dog boy in darkness.
This set up was easy enough. We placed the two horses parallel and separate by about five feet in an open area of floor space. Then we set the board on top.
“Will you go quietly, or must we do the work?”
“Quietly, Frank.”
Maggie climbed up to lie prone on the board. Frank produced two sets of handcuffs, locking one to each of her wrists, the other ends of which were already shut. He had looped a chain through each one and now took the ends of those chains and wrapped them around the horse nearest Maggie’s head, clamping the chains to themselves with metal clips.
This made for an interesting view. Her arm pits were outside of the edges of the board, while her arms were pulled down just a bit and stretched beyond her head. And as you know, Maggie’s tits are quite handsome when stretched. They are teasingly handsome when elevated and stretched, so just imagine how they looked when Frank spread her legs and dropped her feet off either edge of the board. He had chains waiting for her ankles. They were wound to the inner bars of two heavily-weighted dumb bells, which he placed on the floor beneath her. He wound the free ends of each chain around each of Maggie’s ankles until the chain links were taut, and then clamped them to themselves with metal clips. Maggie would not be raising her legs very much, unless she could lift what I counted to be 120 pounds. I guess she could have done that, but not for long. She didn’t try so it didn’t matter.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Frank.” I wrapped my arm across his shoulder. “That looks just like John Harper on the Balance Beam.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t John Harper, is it?”
Now, I had no clue as to how this poor woman was going to be Frank’s milker, but I had a pretty good notion that something intriguing was about to happen to those sticking-way-up-in-the-air tits.
Next is Dec. 12
Dec. 12
Which is exactly what we did. Maggie’s height was perfect, as Frank stood on one side and I the other, a slight bend of our waists bringing our mouths directly to the targets. And although there’s no denying that it was a treat to dine on those vertically protruding, perfectly rounded and divinely stretched gourds with their custom-made-for-sucking-on nipples, somehow they weren’t as satisfying to me as before. They didn’t seem as fresh and supple. They didn’t have the faint aroma or taste of chlorine. In fact, there was a bit of mustiness to them. Perhaps she had exerted too much energy getting her husband into his mummy costume; or maybe it had simply been too many hours since she had showered; but whatever it was dampened my spirits. Something else occurred that shattered the mood for both me and Frank.
“What the hell do you expect me to do?” Laura angrily questioned.
We both removed our mouths from Maggie, as Frank stood with a worried expression, one that a husband assumes when he knows he’s invited the wrath of his woman.
“Uh, how about... hmm... how about you use one of your vibrators? That ought to get things fired up.”
Laura put her hand to her mouth and yawned – not a genuine display, but mockery, which caused Frank some frustration.
“Well, ok Laura... what did you have in mind?”
“Damn, Frank. I don’t have anything in mind. This is all your idea. You tell me.”
I stood waiting for them to resolve this, thinking to myself, ‘Ooh, domestic strife! The Johnsons are having a spat... I love intrigue!’
“Ok, then, Laura, I’ll just ask Maggie what she wants. How about it Maggie? What would you like us to do with you, since you’re all stretched out here?”
“Actually, Frank, I’ve been dreaming of ways to humiliate my husband... been thinking about it ever since I first had him try on his leather suit.”
“Now, that’s a great idea.” Laura finally showed some enthusiasm. “Let’s get him out here and help Maggie beat the crap out of him.”
“Ok, fine.” Frank agreed with very little enthusiasm. “But since we went to all this trouble, is it ok with you if I get off before we cut Maggie loose?”
“Who are you asking, Frank?” Laura wanted to know.
“Anybody who gives a shit.”
Poor Frank. It was just like before. He’d gone to all this trouble to set up his saw horses and spread Maggie out, but nobody wanted to play his game, except for me.
“Hell, Frank, how about a quickie BJ while you work her over with your face?” That was my contribution.
“Whatever you do, hurry up,” Maggie suggested. “My back’s about to break in two.”
“Come on, Jack. Help me with this.” We unchained her. Obviously, the ladies had ruined Frank’s plans, ego and erection. Plus, I can tell you in advance that his mood did not improve much for quite some time. As for me, I appreciated the fact that as the swing man I could mostly remain impartial. If the women and men wanted to bicker back and forth it didn’t matter to me. There was a power struggle taking place and my only challenge was to see if I could remain neutral and horny at the same time.
Next Dec. 15
Dec. 15
The ladies wasted no time in retrieving their caged prisoner. After Maggie led Dick in from the garage, she told Frank and I to get him hanging from the frame. We did this with cuffs to his wrists that hooked onto the lowest chain links that were bolted into one of the horizontal, overhead beams. His was able to stand with his leather boots on the floor and his arms spread above his head in a V shape.
If my text seems boring, it’s because I was bored. You see, this is what happens when things aren’t planned out properly... or in this case, when the plans are suddenly altered without consultation from all participants.
Maggie’s idea of fun times (and Laura went along with it) was to completely emasculate her husband, or if you ask me, dehumanize him. And I suppose I might have gotten into it had he been naked, but shit, everything was covered except for his balls and cock... and although they were fairly handsome, they weren’t nearly beautiful enough to overcome the (to me) ridiculous-looking black leather mummy costume.
I think Frank’s original plan was to lower the esteem of both McKenzies by putting Maggie through a workout of erotic tortures, while forcing her husband to helplessly watch without benefit of participation. I would have been all for that, but the women kind of took over to do their own thing, and since neither Frank nor I could get into it, we both ended up being mostly spectators, occasionally helping out with logistical assistance when asked.
So, let me summarize what they did as quicky as possible. Sorry, if you’re into this sort of thing you’ll have to find more enthusiastic descriptions elsewhere, because I can’t write what I don’t feel. Bottom line, they brutalized his cock and his balls. Maggie started by using a black, plastic riding crop, while Laura used her open hands. They slapped his nuts and whipped his pecker and he screamed and called them mistress... you know, one of the ladies would say, “You’re just a bitch, aren’t you?” And he’d say, “Yes, Mistress.” Then, they’d punish him anyway, regardless that he gave the correct answers, regardless that he was obedient. Laura eventually got her flogger and they had his dick so red it almost looked purple.
Of course, such attacks on the man’s penis never allowed it to become fully erect, and so he never was a man. That was the point. And the point was driven home when Maggie unzipped part of his costume to expose his butt. Then, they started whipping him there and on his balls and his cock while degrading him with verbal insults. About the time Maggie donned a strap-on dildo and Laura grabbed a hand-held dildo, I had seen enough.
I guess I was expecting Frank to come up with some clever way to participate, but he never did. I might have expected that Laura and/or Maggie would have used Frank and/or myself as their dildos to more or less fuck some femininity into their prisoner, but that never happened either, thank god. So, while Maggie fucked her husband and Laura flogged his dick, Frank and I drifted further and further away from the scene.
“Hey, Frank, my feet feel nasty after walking in your garage.”
“Are you saying my garage floor’s dirty?”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Ok. Your floor is not dirty, but it’s not spotless either. Let me try this angle, Mr. I-know-you’re-not-that-dense. How about a swim? I need some freshening up.”
“And I need some fresh air.”
So, my December 15 insertion is kind of a downer, huh? Oh, well, not all relationships are perfect, and the deterioration of ours wasn’t the end of the world. You’ve got to go through the swamp to get back on dry land. That night, the water in Mr. and Mrs. Johnson’s swimming pool never felt so good.
Next is Dec. 19
Dec. 19
“Well, Frank, looks like the ladies took over your show.”
Frank and I had already been in the water about five minutes, swimming separately above and below the surface to chlorine away the smell of their basement. Their basement didn’t smell, the activity taking place in their basement smelled.
“That’s ok. You know how it is, Jack. Whatever makes Laura happy is all right with me.”
We had congregated in the deep end with our arms folded atop the concrete deck near water’s edge. Our chins rested on our forearms while our legs casually tread water.
“Did you know Maggie planned to do that to him?”
“No. My understanding was that he’d be hooked up to the frame while we worked on her, and then Laura and maybe me.”
“It’s kinda gross.”
“No doubt. I can’t figure a man wanting his cock treated that way.”
“I know. The damn thing was turning purple.” I kept my right hand on the deck and reached into the water with my left. “Yours might be a limp rag right now, but it’s still a handsome fella.” I pumped him in my fist to try and bring his pecker to life.
“Hell, his dick was limp, too.” Frank pretended not to notice my hand. His penis certainly didn’t notice. “What’s the deal, Jack? There’s no fucking way a man can get hard when someone’s doing that to his peter. Beating on it with a riding crop, for Christ’s sake... how’s that supposed to turn a man on? That’s what I don’t understand.”
“Well, Frank, I don’t know much about it and haven’t bothered to learn because I don’t care. You know me. I want a man’s cock to be fucking something or getting sucked. Other than that, leave me out of it.”
“What I really don’t get is Laura. She told me she didn’t care much for shoving dildos up a guy’s ass. That’s why we kinda drifted away from those two, but she sure did a 360 tonight.”
“Hey, Frank, it’s ok.” I shifted myself closer to him so I could improve my manual stimulation technique. “Maybe she enjoys whipping the guy’s cock and balls. Maybe she’s thinking, ‘Here, take that, you little sissy.’ Or maybe she’s just trying it out to see if she likes it.”
“Yeah. She probably’s curious as to whether or not it’ll turn her on.”
As I moved behind Frank and used his shoulder to keep myself afloat, my left hand finally felt some growth. Meanwhile, Frank kept on talking as though nothing else was going on.
“Having them around worries me a bit.”
“I like Maggie ok, but never really have cared for Dick... not sexually... not even as a friend. Laura likes him a lot more than I do.”
“So? Why shouldn’t she? She likes Dick’s dick the same way you like Maggie’s tits and pussy. There’s nothing more to it than that. Right?”
“Hope so.”
At this point I let go of Frank’s cock, even though I had managed to bring him to full erection. “Come on, Frank. Laura worships the ground you walk on. I don’t know much, but I know when she looks at you her lips salivate. That means her pussy salivates, too. She never ever looks at him that way. What happened to you? Worried about a little prick like Dick McKenzie? Fuck him. In fact, I’m sick of the McKenzies... tired of thinking about ‘em and talking about ‘em. Turn your ass around and let me give you an underwater BJ. I need you to be a man, Frank. Think of your god damned wife who loves the hell out of you and give me a Frank Johnson load.”
Frank did turn around and moved to the corner. He clasped the palms of his hands onto the pool deck in a quasi-crucifixion pose, leaving his body to hang and float with the water’s surface just above his tits. Taking a deep gulp of air, I submerged, clasped onto Frank’s butt to keep me under and buried his dick to the back of my throat. I stroked on him until it was time for oxygen, surfaced, gulped and repeated. Again and again I went under, and each submersion brought him closer to explosion. Each submersion also became shorter in time, because my own excitement and underwater activity quickly used up my oxygen supply.
“Ok, Frank,” I panted the sixth time I surfaced. “If I drown, at least it’ll be a happy death. Don’t mourn for me.”
My good sense of humor must have pleased him, because he gave me his load on that one, but it was risky business on my part to stay down there until Frank was finished and I had everything sucked out. Frank’s seed tastes just as good under water as above, not that you needed to know that. When I came up to fill my tortured lungs, Laura was standing on the deck right behind her husband’s head. His eyes were closed and apparently had been for some time.
“Hey, Frank,” I coughed. “Look... (choke)... who’s here.”
“Hi, darling,” he turned around happy. “Jack and I had a good long talk.”
“I don’t know how Jack could talk, from what I just saw.”
“You’re right, Laura. (Cough)... Frank’s peter did the talking.”
“You aren’t angry, are you?” Frank couldn’t decipher her mood and neither could I.
“Frank, I want you and Jack to get those two people out of my house.”
Next is Dec. 22
Dec. 22
Those words were music to our ears. We sprang out of that pool and headed for the basement in this order: Frank, Jack, Laura.
“Jesus H. Christ!” That was Frank’s reaction, while mine was a silent revulsion.
Maggie had clamped two alligator clips onto Dick’s balls, which supported two chains, which supported two weights of metal, which had the skin of his nuts pulled down two and a half, maybe three inches. It was hard to tell, because Maggie was tapping the weights with her fingers to make them swing back and forth. Dick was howling in agony, while his wife repeatedly asked him if he was going to be good... if he wanted to keep his balls or if he would prefer she remove them. He said he would do anything she said... kept saying, “Yes, mistress” this and “Yes, mistress” that, but guess what? That strange man was moving his hips back and forth to make those weights swing even more, and although I wouldn’t swear to it, it looked like blood was staining the teeth of his alligator clamps.
To make matters even more sickening, red lines of blood cris-crossed his pecker from where she’d whipped him, but again, let me say that if such things turn people on, that’s fine by me. Frank and I were willing to stay out of it as long as Laura was in to it, but Laura had seen enough, so Frank interrupted their scene.
“Hey, are you two about ready to wrap this up?”
Of course, Dick was not allowed to answer, so Maggie did. “Oh, Frank, things are getting hot. What he needs is a big cock up his ass, just like yours. Maybe then he’ll pay attention to what I say.”
“I can’t do that, Maggie. It’s not my thing. In fact, none of us are enjoying this. It’s too heavy and we never discussed going in this direction. If you want to mutilate your husband I think you should take it to your house.”
The silence was rather intense. Maggie stood there naked with a riding crop in one hand, glaring at Frank as though he was due some of her punishment. Did she dare challenge him? In his own house? No pretend drama here. This was the real thing. I couldn’t tell what her husband thought, because all I could see were his eyes peeking from the holes of his leather hood. Besides, my eyes couldn’t get off those hideous nuts of his while the weights continued to swing, thanks to the slight movement of his hips.
Maggie ended her glare-down of Frank, glanced to me for a few seconds and then looked at Laura.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes, Maggie. It’s too much.”
“What happened? I thought you wanted to help me with him.”
“I did, but you never said anything about drawing blood. I think it’s best if we break this up. I can’t have this sort of thing in my house.”
None of us waited for Maggie to agree or disagree. Frank and I unhooked Dick’s cuffs and stood ready in case he wanted to get belligerent. He didn’t. In fact, he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion.
“Get that stuff off of him, Maggie,” Frank ordered. “I’ll go get your clothes.”
That was in the garage. Maggie helped her husband take off the alligators, and then his leather outfit. Once opened, the musty sweat inside the leather and on Dick’s skin nearly caused Laura and I to gag. It permeated the entire room, adding more nastiness to an already ugly atmosphere.
Both McKenzies put on their street clothes and gathered all their bondage possessions, and just when we thought they were going to leave peacefully, good ol’ Dick had to make an ass of himself.
“Have a good time with your boyfriend, Frank.”
“Oh, I will. Have a good time with your girlfriend, Maggie.”
Frank’s a sharp man. His quick comeback seemed to leave both McKenzies speechless, which is easier said than done.
Laura was not at all pleased with the droplets of blood staining her carpet. The three of us worked frantically to remove them before they dried into a permanent ruination. Then we sprayed down the room to eradicate all remnants of Dick and Maggie McKenzie... forever.
I guess you could say we returned to our roots, sort of. The late September air was cool at night, and soon naked swimming would be put on hold until spring. So, that’s where we ended up. In the water is where we tried to wash away all the unpleasantries created by those other two people, and we did so without words. Our bodies did all the talking. That will be the gist of my next insertion on Dec. 27.
Dec. 27
I think a good way to gauge the health of a relationship is by how well actions are synchronized when few or no words are spoken. With the troublesome McKenzie duo once and for all banished from participation, Frank, Laura and I swam freely to lessen our blood pressure, and then congregated in the same deep-end corner where Frank had received his BJ.
Why the thought never occurred to me I don’t know, and why it popped into my head at this moment is an even greater mystery, but I had a pretty good idea as to why Laura had rebelled against Frank earlier that evening. It was not so much anything he had done, but more what Maggie had caused both of us to do. Our incessant praise of her tits had created a female rivalry, for the tits of the other woman had been neglected, and so, when Maggie was stretched out on Frank’s board and we again started working on her while leaving Laura wondering what to do, Laura shifted the focus of activity to Dick, knowing full-well that neither Frank nor I would be interested in such a thing.
Fortunately, the McKenzies had gotten a bit to weird for Laura as well and she decided that they would no longer be welcomed in her home. Laura’s breasts are juicy whether stretched or not, especially when glimmering with water and the glow of distant light. This is why I began to nibble on them, and this is when it dawned on me that I had not been there for far too long. Frank also realized it. He followed my lead, as we coaxed Laura into the corner so she could spread her arms with hands outside the water on the pool deck, just as Frank had been. And here began a water-enhanced marathon of breast worship, Frank on her right tit and I on her left. The water line was just below their curves, which gave the appearance that Laura’s tits were floating. They were wet with water and made wetter with male spit. I sucked on her nipple as though it were a baby bottle, using my tongue to stimulate its ever-sharpening point. The supple skin surrounding her nipple was lavished with kisses wet and dry, as I occasionally glanced to where Frank’s mouth was making contact in similar fashion.
More moisture was added to the scene. Tears outlined the eyes of Laura, as she fully understood that both Frank and I realized our mistake. We were making up for lost time, and in the process bringing Laura to a heightened sense of erotic pleasures, as well as a tightened bonding with the men in her life. Frank and I made a smooth transition, as he immediately took control of the tit I abandoned when diving below. I had perfected the technique on him. Now I put it to good use on Laura, holding my breath to eat her underwater pussy. The difference this time was that I would not be forced to repeatedly dive to bring her orgasm. This was merely a tease of the tongue to further increase her juicy, pre-show production, so that when Laura was fully primed and on the brink of explosion, all I had to do was insert my hard dick and gently rub on her clittie. Frank and I again moved as though precision dancers, as he shifted to the side on my third coming up for air. And as soon as my peter was involved, Frank got behind me, wrapped his manly arms around his wife and pressed his hairy chest against my back. I was sandwiched between man-tits and woman-tits. I was kissed on the neck by man-lips and kissed on my lips by woman-lips. Laura was sent straight to heaven.
Frank and I saved our loads for her. She followed us when we exited the pool. She walked between us when we journeyed to the bedroom, her left hand held by my right and her right hand held by his left.
My gauge told me that all was well with our relationship, because we required no lighting to worship this woman. We remembered her features, where they were and which ones were especially longing for the touch of a man. Laura had two men at her disposal and no competition. She remained the focus of our attention throughout the night.
Dec. 29
I should say that I’m sad to say, but must say that I’m glad to say that Saturday’s escapades were purely vanilla, except that there were three of us. Our intimate fondling and kissing of Laura certainly vanquished any doubts she had that she was our preferred female. It also made me wonder about the softness of a woman’s skin. I’m not saying that the surface of a man’s skin is unpleasant to touch, but a woman’s skin is different. Maybe the pores aren’t as big; or maybe it’s because they are more likely to use special moisturizers; but whatever, the contact of Laura’s skin to my lips seemed to soothe them as though medicated balm. This was especially true with the meat of her breasts, where Frank and I spent most of our time.
There were other moments when Laura was not the focal point of all praise. Frank and I got our turns, too, and mine culminated in Laura laying atop me with my penis firmly inserted to her vagina. Frank made her the meat of our sandwich by laying on top of her, crushing her breasts against my chest, while poking between her clamped-together thighs with his big cock. By the time we finally rolled out of bed Saturday afternoon, had our breakfast and prepared the pool, we were ready to try something a bit more frisky.
We swam, had our dinner, and gravitated to the basement under the pretense of scanning the channels for something to watch on television. But Frank’s contraption was still there just as we had left it, and Laura was the one who sprawled herself atop his board-on-sawhorses pedestal. We didn’t use restraints. There was no time or desire to mess with them. All we needed was our hands, fingers, tongues and lips, as Frank and I reinforced our fondness for this woman. Her breasts were just as beautiful as Maggie’s, whether stretched, elevated and exposed or not, because the woman to whom they belonged was far superior to that other woman. Laura was milked, first by Frank’s talented tongue and then (about 30 minutes later) by my rapidly rubbing finger, at which time her spine could take no more.
Next, I got my turn at playing John Harper, as Frank and Laura assaulted my stretched out tits and belly. I also went twice. Once into Laura’s mouth and once by Frank’s hand. We could always save Frank for last, because no matter how spent Laura and I might be, we could always get horny when Frank’s body was surrendered to us.
Just as we had, Frank grabbed onto the sawhorse with his hands to feign restraint. But unlike we had done, he didn’t keep his feet atop the board. Frank dropped his legs off either side of the board and let his feet dangle, which arched his back even more and raised his chest even higher. Frank had to be the big show-off, the strong-man, putting himself into a more tortured position than we had. We loved him for it. We loved him with a marathon of body worship combined with a total disregard for his cock. Frank was not milked like John Harper... he was denied until he could take no more. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he could have taken the denial much longer and would have been forced by us to do so, but like us, Frank got to a point where his back couldn’t take any more.
Remember way back when? When I told you that the reason I was brought into the Johnson mix was because Laura felt inadequate as a cock sucker? At least with a cock the size of Frank’s? Well, I fixed that. I gave her a tip. I showed her how to work on him as though his big dick were a nipple... like a baby bottle, using just his head and about one-third of the shaft from there.
“Like this, Laura.” I climbed onto the board and knelt between his thighs to show her, and then I made her do it, while I stood beside her mouth and his cock, coaching her until she got it right. And she did get it right. She got it so right that soon she was deep-throating him with no discomfort and no gagging. My star pupil passed her test with impressive skills, proven by the reaction of her husband when he exploded into her mouth. And I am proud to say that she drank her husband’s cum with no choking, as though his load was nothing more than a milk shake oozing from its straw.
And so, I guess they really didn’t need me anymore after that, but for some reason I’m still around. That reason shouldn’t be hard to figure out. If you’ve read any or all of these insertions, you should know that by this time the Johnsons and I had progressed far beyond sex. The McKenzies, with all their flaws, helped us to realize how much we admire one another and how much we desire one another.
Although I’ve heard him say it many times, I never fully understood what Uncle Jasper meant when he said it, but this is true for me as well. You can throw away all the chains and whips and floggers and everything else, because my biggest thrill is to be the voyeur. When Laura lays her soft-skinned body down on the mattress, and her hard-bodied husband lays atop her to fill her loins with his mammoth cock, I enjoy watching them and listening to them. His undulating muscles; her clutching-onto-his-back fingers; his manly grunts; her feminine moans; his soft chest hairs feathering her erect nipple tips; his hard-flexed belly grinding against her soft-flattened belly; his wiry pubes meshing with her wet pubes; his arched feet and toes working inside of her curled feet and toes to propel him forward and back and to connect his throbbing mushroom to her vibrating clitoris, all of this combines to give me a performance unmatched by any theatrical play, any feature film, any adult film, or any entertaining event that could be imagined. It is the purest form of love ever conceived and I am privileged to be a part of it.
There is nothing more to tell you regarding Jack, Frank and Laura. Our weekends together continue, and hopefully nothing will change this in 2007 or beyond. This is how we feel today. It is what we want to feel forever, and so, I’m taking it private. If something comes up of note, if we break up or if there’s interference from outsiders again, you will be told with another round of Jack’s Insertions.
Until then, I might join Jardonn in writing some fiction, perhaps inspired by something very real. And I will continue to be a part of Uncle Jasper’s audio recordings.


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