Hello everyone, in case you didn’t read either of my last entries here’s a little back story on me. I am a very shy 27 year old woman; I am 5’2″ and 105 lbs. My bra size is 34C, and I have shoulder length reddish brown hair. Up until about 4 months ago I have had a very normal sex life, no one had even seen me naked until I was married (yup virgin bride). In fact a crazy night for me before was if my husband, who I will call Josh, and I switched positions so I was on top!

So you may be asking, how did I go from that to exploits of public nudity? Well, I did it for my marriage and I stand by my choice. Josh was in a very unhappy mood for a while and I finally got him to tell me what was wrong. He admitted to me that he has felt unfulfilled with our sex life. He mentioned that he did not feel like he would ever be able to realize his sexual fantasies with me.

Not long ago, in an attempt to help my marriage, I read a healthy marriage book that had a portion that said for a relationship to truly work, both partners must try to fulfill the other’s sexual needs. At the time I didn’t know sex was a problem. I really wanted Josh to be happy again so I took the book’s advice and prepared for the worst. I let josh know that he could be open with me, and even though I wasn’t very experienced I would do my best to fulfill his needs no matter what they were.

One of his desires was for me to write about my experiences, being completely honest on how they make me feel and post them on the net so he could read the comments it gets with me, so here I go again on my next “adventure” as Josh calls them.

For all the people who have commented on my stories saying hurtful things about my husband, know this, I am happy. I get gifts for no reason, I get random kisses whenever he is around, Josh brings me flowers and cuddles up close to watch movies, he tells me a thousand times a day how much he loves me, he holds me close and I feel that love. Josh asks my opinion on everything and is always willing to watch a chick flick with me, or even go shopping. And most importantly he is happy, every day, no matter how rough his day was, he comes home to me with a smile on his face. So if all I need to do for all that is to fulfill his fantasies and feel some humiliation I gladly accept it. So back to my “adventures”…

This most recent adventure involved something I recently tried for the first time, anal. As odd as it may seem, I actually didn’t mind it, and Josh was very gentle so it didn’t really hurt at all.

We have tried it out a few times now, with both toys and the normal way, so Josh suggested for this “adventure” I wear a butt plug under a mini skirt in a public place. Of course I agreed, not knowing then how bad it would be, not that I would have denied him even if I did.

Josh brought me the outfit he wanted me to wear for the adventure. I didn’t even bother looking at it before I put it on. I knew it would be revealing and I was not surprised in the least to see that it didn’t include a bra or panties, but that’s not to say it didn’t make me a little nervous anyway. Once the outfit was on I looked in the mirror to see how bad this would be.

The outfit consisted of a tank top, skirt and heels. The tank top was white and very short; it came down just below my breasts. The skirt was light blue cotton and loosely fitted to flutter around when I walked; it was also very short and came down only a few inches below my butt. My shoes where simple strap heels with an open toe that I might wear any day of the week. The sight made me instantly nervous, as I always get when I know I am going to perform one of these “adventures”.

Josh whistled as he looked me up and down and said “Nice! I never tire of looking at you in these outfits!”

I blushed and giggled a little, oh how I love the way my husband makes me feel.

After a moment of looking me over Josh held me tight and kissed me passionately and said “I love you so much, let me go get the rest!”

Until then I almost forgot that I still had to put in the butt plug. I was a little nervous about walking around with a butt plug in me but as I said I was starting to get used to anal play so it was not too bad and it would be under the skirt so it wouldn’t be too bad, though I had a unpleasant feeling that it would get revealed at some point or another.

Josh got back up and holding the plug behind his back. He said “turn around I want this to be a surprise love.”

I laughed a mocking laugh, though inwardly the “surprise” part made me a little nervous. I turned around as he leaned me over on the table.

I heard a little squirting noise and Josh said “now I am not going to put too much lube on here because I don’t want it sliding out again. It is water based lube so if I put it on lightly most of it should wear away after a little bit.”

With that he began to work in the butt plug, slowly twisting, pushing and pulling on the plug. Inch by inch the plug began working its way into my anus. Though it is kind of embarrassing to admit, even to total strangers, I kind of like the feeling of anal so this part actually turned me on a little. This plug was just slightly bigger than we had played with yet, because josh wanted it to stay in, but Josh took his time and when it finally did reach its apex it only hurt slightly. Then Josh gave the plug just a little more pressure and it quickly slipped inside me causing me to moan and shiver as I felt the bulb quickly plunge into my anus. I noticed once the plug was firmly in place that the indented portion was also quite a bit bigger than I was used to as well.

Josh pulled my skirt back down and said “you can go ahead and stand now so you can look in the mirror.”

I calmed myself down from the excitement and stood up as Josh asked. Once I stood up strait and my butt cheeks came together I immediately noticed something different about this plug. It didn’t seem to have an overly large base at the end to stop it from slipping in further, just a slight bulge that seemed to stick out a bit because I could feel it sticking out between my cheeks. This struck my curiosity and I quickly moved to the mirror and turned to get a look at the plug. Before I had even turned fully around I gasped in shock! The plug had a 1.5 inch black plastic tail on it that stuck out the bottom of my skirt, curling out and slightly up a few inches, scrunching up the back of my skirt ever so slightly.

I turned to Josh and stuttered “b-but people will see the… the t-tail going up into my… my butt.”

He held my face in his hand and said “they will not actually see it go into your butt; they will just see it disappear under your skirt. Now I am sure some people will figure out where it is going and will therefore know you are walking around with something inserted into your anus. But that is part of the adventure love; remember it is supposed to be embarrassing. And it is perfectly legal; I had a lawyer look into it for me… Will you still do it? If not I will understand.”

I could see that Josh was putting on a good act trying to not look too disappointed, but I could tell he really was looking forward to this so I said with all the conviction I could muster “Of course I will still do this love, I would do anything for you…”

He scooped me up in his arms and held me tight saying “Oh baby, I love you so very much. You are the best wife ever! Now let me detach this for the car ride.”

As he spun me around and began unscrewing the tail from the butt plug I replied “I love you too dear.”

He got the tail section of the plug off leaving the bulb and the slightly flared base inside me. Josh ran off in excitement to get stuff in the car and I followed behind him with worry and nervousness.

Once we got in the car Josh said “Jenni wanted to be a part of this but since she is still out of town she couldn’t, but she did actually help me out figuring out some of the details.”

I replied “So that is what she meant when I talked to her yesterday. She said she had been working with you on a surprise for me.”

Josh just laughed and we talked a little about Jenni and her past experiences with me for a bit.

For those of you who may be jumping into this story without reading my other “adventures”; Jenni is a friend of mine who we met on my first “adventure” and is the only one who knows Josh and my real names and the activities we perform. She has actually been involved with a couple of them and she always looks out for me, and also torments me on occasion. We are supposed to be having a big party soon where I will be the main attraction, but that there is no word yet when that will be.

We drove a very long way this time, over two hours. The entire time I was squirming against the butt plug that I still had inside me. To make the drive even more difficult Josh kept reaching over and rubbing between my legs making me incredibly horny. I was going nuts by the time we made it to our destination. I wanted so badly to orgasm; in fact I was so distracted I totally forgot about the humiliation I was about to endure.

Once we stopped I remembered why we were here and began to feel my anxiety build back up and wash away my desire. I noticed that we had arrived at another large mall barely after noon. Since it was a weekday it seemed we had hit the lunch crowd because there were a lot of cars in the lot. This made me even more nervous.

Josh opened the door for me and I got out of the car. He crouched down behind me and re-attached the tail section back to the butt plug. He turned me toward him and held me close. He kissed me passionately and to my surprise pulled my skirt all the way up with one hand while holding me close with the other. I instinctively tried to jerk away at first but controlled myself, reminding myself that this was his fantasy.

Josh pulled away and while I looked around nervously to see if anyone had seen he laughed and said “Don’t worry love I made sure no one was around; though I love that you let me do that not knowing that.”

I just said “Anything for you.” Which was true, I would do anything for him.

Josh picked up a small bag and asked “Are you ready?”

I still have no idea why he keeps asking me that; like I could ever be ready for this kind of thing. But I just nodded to him nervously.

He smiled and said “Ok, you lead the way. I want you to go inside and follow the instructions I text you.” As he handed me my phone. “Oh and if anyone asks what the tail is, or how it feels you must answer honestly, if anyone asks anything else look to me for the answer ok?”

I shuddered a little and nodded my head in agreement.

Josh gave me another kiss and then pointed to the mall saying “Ok love, lead the way.”

I paused beside our car and looked both ways waiting in terror as a young couple passed by going to the mall. The young man looked at me as he passed but otherwise they did not pay me too much attention since my tail was not visible to them. Once they passed I took a deep breath and with all the courage I could muster I stepped out into the open. As I left the privacy of the space between the cars I immediately felt very exposed. Even though I was technically not showing any of my private areas I knew the tail was highly visible and would cause anyone who noticed to stare and wonder where it went. Plus my outfit was much more skimpy than most people would every wear to the mall.

I walked down the parking lot and was almost immediately passed by a car from behind, I was too afraid to look at the driver but Josh told me later that it was a middle-aged man and he was staring intently at my butt as he passed. I just shivered a little and kept my eyes down. Once he passed and I looked up again I noticed that in front of me there was another car coming towards me as well as two men and a woman. There were other people around at varying distances looking at me but none that were close enough to be personally involved.

The car passed me first and I angled myself slightly in hopes of hiding my tail from his view, which seemed to work. Next came one of the men, he was a well-dressed man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He glanced at me before he passed but immediately averted his eyes once he saw me looking at him. He passed me by awkwardly looking away from me, but I was sure he would look back as soon as I passed him, though I didn’t dare look back to see.

Once the man was out of ear shot Josh came up a little closer and said “Until we make it into the mall I would like for you to look back every time someone passes by you ok? That last guy was priceless!”

I just nodded again in agreement, even more nervous at having to see them when they noticed my tail.

Next was a young woman probably right out of high school. She looked me over and lost interest quickly. A couple seconds after she passed me I looked back but she was just walking away, not interested enough for a backwards glance and therefor missed seeing my tail. This relieved me tremendously.

Before the other man got to close to me I noticed a couple of guys getting out of a car just ahead of me. I slowed down to let them get in front of me but they were taking too long to get out of the car and Josh cleared his throat behind me which I knew meant I should keep going. I heard them finally shut the doors a little after I passed their car. They were still within earshot and I heard they were talking about where they were going to eat, but then they suddenly got quiet and I could no longer hear them. I knew this had to be because they noticed my tail, I did not look back, as Josh said I just had to look back at the people who passed me and they did not, they were following behind me, which in my predicament was much, much worse.

By this time the other man I saw was coming up to me. He was an older man, probably in his sixties, and he was looking at me with curious eyes. He did not look away when I looked at him like the last guy, in fact he smiled and even went so far as to say “Afternoon miss” and nod to me as I passed him.

Again after a couple seconds I looked back to see the man staring back at my but with a happy but slightly confused look on his face. I also saw the two men behind me who were watching me intently and talking in hushed tones to each other. Once they saw me looking back they laughed and one of them nodded towards me with a smile. This caused them to laugh even more.

I jerked my head back and just tried to keep walking forward without falling on my face from nervousness. I noticed as I looked forward that a couple of women had come out of the mall doors as I was getting close to it.

I had to stop at the end of the row of cars to let a car pass by, which unfortunately put the two men right behind me. I heard them chucking to each other and fearing they would talk to me I hurried across the street towards the entrance to the mall where I passed by the two women. I was so worried about getting some distance from the men behind me that I forgot to look back after I passed the two women, but I doubt they cared enough to look back at me. I did notice out of the corner of my eyes however that there were now more people coming up behind me from other areas of the parking lot. I hurried into the mall and almost accidently knocked over an old lady in my haste. I apologized and passed by her, keeping my front to her at all times.

Once in the mall I was hit with another wave of fear as I noticed how many people were all around me. There was no way to keep my tail hidden from sight. I looked around in terror as I noticed some people already staring at me, and my tail, in confusion. I was so very embarrassed. I felt my phone vibrate and I quickly looked to see what it said.

Josh sent me a message saying “Find a store that sells costume jewelry.”

I walked quickly to one of those map stations they have in malls and quickly found a store that would do the trick. I hurried off in the direction of the store and got another text saying “Slow down.” With a sigh I slowed down to my normal speed and made my way to the store. I was surprised to note that even though I got a lot of strange looks no one bothered me.

Once I got to the store I got another text saying “Pick out a bracelet you like and take it to the counter.”

I found a simple looking bracelet right away. Turning toward the counter I noticed the two girls working there were staring at me. Both looked about 19 or 20 and were skinny, one was blond while the other had black hair with purple and red dye in it. Blushing red, I walked up to the counter where the two women were and just as I was about to set down the bracelet I got another text.

This text said “Ask the girls behind the counter if they have any jewelry you could use to decorate your tail. Turn slightly, stick your butt out and gesture toward your tail when you do.”

I turned my head toward josh and gave him a pouty face.

He just smiled and nodded toward the counter.

I turned to the closest girl, the blond, and asked her “Do… do you have anything you would reco-recommend to decorate my uh… my tail?” As I said it I turned and stuck out my butt a bit pointing at my tail.

The other girl, the dyed one, tried to suppress her laughter without much success. This made the blond I was talking to blush and smile.

The blond replied “Um… are you messing with us or something?”

I just blushed more and said “N-No, I just want to… to get something to decorate my… this.” Pointing at my tail again.

“Why are you even wearing that thing in the mall anyway?” asked the woman with dyed hair.

I looked at Josh and he just shrugged at me so I just replied “Um… I just… I like to wear it sometimes, that’s all.” I am not a very good liar so that was all I could come up with at the time.

“How does it stay there? Is it attached to your skirt? Or a bikini bottom or something?” asked the blond.

I got really nervous now; this was one of the questions I was trying to avoid because I would have to tell them what it really was. I cleared my throat nervously and with a slight tremble in my voice I replied “Um… well… it is a um… pl-plastic tail that is attached to um… attached to a b-butt plug.”

The blond just stared at me with an open mouth while the girl with the dyed hair said in a shocked voice “No way… you gotta be shittin me.”

I just stared at the counter in shame trembling all over.

The blond stammered out “So… so that… thing [pointing at my tail] goes… you know… in your ass?!”

I trembled with humiliation and just nodded in response.

The two girls just stood there for a moment and I didn’t know what to do.

Finally the blond chimed in again and said “why would you choose to wear that? And in public too?”

I just repeated “I um… I just do… I don’t know. Now could I please just get… well could you suggest something to decorate it so I can leave?”

Again my horrible lying was not helping me, in fact I think it made the girls behind the counter even more confused, and curious.

They just shrugged and probably too stunned to know what to say. The one with the dyed hair finally said “Why do you need to decorate it? Isn’t it bad enough that you are walking around with a tail in your ass? Now you want to bling it out!?”

The blond seemed to brighten up saying “Speaking of bling, we could poke some ear rings into it!”

I didn’t really know what I was supposed to agree to so I just said “Um… maybe that would work.”

Just then I got a text said “Tell them you changed your mind. Thank them for the help and leave the store. Now I want you to find a store that would sell dresses.”

I did as I was told and rushed out of the store as the two girls stared after me. I found another map station down the hall a ways and began looking for a clothing store. I found a one on the map and started walking quickly to its location but caught myself and slowed my pace to normal. I made my way across the mall to the clothing store. All around people stared at me as they noticed my revealing outfit and even worse, my tail. Luckily no one bothered me on my way to the store; they just looked at me without comment, or at least not any I could hear.

Leslie missed teaching high school, but one benefit of working at the Castle Harbor Recreation Center was the hours. Teachers had lovely long vacations, but damn little flexibility when working. A personal trainer at the Rec Center scheduled her own appointments, and Leslie made her Saturday appointments early—starting at 7:00 a.m., sharp, long before Guy even thought about getting up. He had told her that morning, as so often before: “When I was in the Marines, I promised myself that when I got out I would get enough sleep—for the rest of my life.”

“But I do get enough sleep,” Leslie had said, even as she rolled to sit up on the edge of the bed. Guy immediately had rolled toward her and thrown an arm around her waist, tilting her back onto the bed. He cupped a hand over each perfect hillock of her breasts, which rose on her chest round, firm, and deeply tanned. Beneath his palms he had felt her nipples tighten. For a trim, athletic woman, with compact breasts, she had outlandishly large nipples, suitable to breasts three times the size of hers.

For a long time, they had embarrassed Leslie, but as she and Guy had progressed in their “Second Honeymoon”–the madly erotic, promiscuous, no-holds-barred sex life that had begun with joining the secret “Dark Knights”–she had realized both that men were aroused by her dark, over-sized, permanently puffy tits and turned on, as well, because they sensed she was embarrassed to have them seen. And she was, but, as she had told Guy, “Well, my mega-boobed sisters in this world may be a little shy about how men go gaga over their size, but they sure make the most of it.”

And so did Leslie. When she stripped, she liked to turn away from men to slip off her brassiere, then turn back with her hands cupped over her tits, her eyes downcast—the whole show. Then, she would slip away her hands, reluctantly, and say something like, “Well, I guess I can’t spend my whole life with my hands over my titties, can I?”

From then on, most men couldn’t stop staring, catching her eye once in awhile and grinning because she looked sheepish. By then, the soft flesh usually had become as rough as dark sand ribbed by the wind and pouted upward as though she were trying to hitch a ride with her nipples. Elongated a good half inch, they seemed to announce: Turned-on Bitch. And that did still embarrass Leslie.

And so, naturally, Guy never failed to fondle her until the pert, arrogant little thumbs were at maximal extension. Now, Leslie moaned and grabbed his hands. “Oh, don’t! You know we don’t have time, and they’ll be sticking out all morning.”

He still moved his hands slightly, rolling the rubbery stubs, as Leslie tried to loosen his grip. “You mean through your sports bra and everything?” he asked.

“Yes!” she said, struggling to sit up. “Stop!” But it was no use fighting Guy’s strength. “Oh, all right,” she had sighed, and rolled over on her stomach. Her face came down over his belly, her fingers parting the dark, curly hair and took hold of his penis. In a moment, she had popped it into her mouth; Guy’s head fell back on the pillow and he sighed.

Leslie ran her finger tips over his scrotum, stroking the hair, and then, with two fingers, pushed down the flesh around the base of penis, so that it was forced to rear up, stiffening. Her tongue was circling beneath its plump head, already slick with pre-cum.

Then, abruptly, she flipped over, rolling to sit up, and bounded from the bed. “Hey!” Guy yelled, sitting up.

“Fair is fair,” she called. “You have a big stiff dick all morning and I have titties jutting out for all my clients to giggle at.”

He had had leaped up from the bed, but she already was in the bathroom. He heard the lock turn. Her voice called, sweetly, “I told you we didn’t have time.”

“Just wait, bitch!”

Now, as Leslie drove home from the Rec Center, the afternoon was still young, a late October day when Long Island woods flashed in the sun as yellow and red and warmly luscious against the blue sky as in any part of southern New England, which lay just across the Sound, after all. She could do five or six clients—or trainees? Or what?—before 2:00 p.m. and have long Saturday afternoons. And an extra $400 or so above what she made during the week.

The famous village of Castle Harbor with its white churches, ancient arching elms, and pre-Colonial-era houses—not to mention its line-up of high-fashion stores that had displaced so many hardwares, delis, smoke shops, and family groceries on Main Street and Old Town Lane—had seemed so quaintly perfect—and so perfectly dull, especially in the winter—just a year ago. Now, it all had, for Leslie, a smoldering tension like Dodge City or Tombstone, except the tension was sexual. Since she and Guy had joined the super-secret Dark Knights, where S&M and bondage and rape fantasies kept threatening to consume their devotees—like some religion of ecstatic sacrificial rituals—the fire of sexual excess had kept spreading. An early sacrifice had been her career as a teacher; she was not going to trash a record of devotion to students by being fired in disgrace if her private life became known. She had resigned clean and with her reputation intact.

But the strict secrecy of the Dark Knights could not contain the centripetal force of lust that had been ignited in her marriage. There was the passion for Leslie conceived by the quiet, stunning high-school librarian, Delores Gaitley, introduced into the Dark Knights by her husband, Hugh, still the high-school principal. And then the bizarre attempt by the head of the school board, Marlene Owen, to blackmail Leslie—an escapade in which Marlene involved her daughter, Betsy, and Betsy’s boyfriend, Victor. All of it ended with them exposed—literally and completely, their mortified reluctance giving way with dizzying speed to engulfing sexual fantasy and abandon. And so the “secret” kept spreading and now, it seemed to Leslie, threatened to metastasize beyond remediation.

What had happened at the Rec Center a few evenings ago–after closing, with only employees left to shower and lock up—would have had Leslie, just a year ago, screaming over the phone to Guy and three police cars screeching into the parking lot. But she had said nothing to him, the night it happened, and still wondered what to say—and when. Perhaps today…

She parked in their driveway, wondering at a car already there that she did not recognize. She walked around the side of the house toward the long, private backyard that swept downhill to their garden and, beyond, to the woods. Already, she could see over the tops of trees that began where the yard ended, see the quarter mile or so to where the bay stretched off, serene and sparkling under the autumn sun, toward the North Fork of Long Island. They had a lot of privacy, here: no houses in view in any direction—although that was partly because of thick woods.

Soon it would be winter, the oaks and sassafras dropping their last leaves, the dark pines more prominent. The chill in the air was distinct, today; Leslie was glad for her windbreaker in spite of the friendly sun.

She halted abruptly, her head slightly forward as though with the thrust of some unspoken exclamation. What the hell…

It was a completely naked woman, a young woman by the look of her slender body and skin pale and lovely in the sun, but Leslie could not be sure. Because the head was the head of a grotesque bird, striped black and white, with a down-curving beak, the eyes dark and empty. The woman-bird knelt on the small deck at the top of the backstairs, a slender arm tied to the railing of either side. The thing’s head with its great beak was bent far forward, as though trying to see the naked white breasts, large and full, but, with the body bent, pushed forward and squeezed, the pink nipples squashed forward.

Leslie was running toward the stairs. All she could think to say was “Hey!” She had no fear, not what she would have felt a year ago. This was just some craziness, more craziness that was her life, now. At the same time, she felt the first hint of heat between her legs, the tensing of arousal at the pale, helpless body, the degradation of the mask—one of the many she and Guy had loved and bought in Florence—and the lovely, exposed breasts, the kneeling in submission on the hard wood. As she neared, the bird looked up. Leslie began, “Are you…?”

And then, she was up the steps, and gasped: “It’s freezing out here!” She reached down and felt the tender breasts. “You’re frigid! Who did…?” Then she said, “Betsy?”

The bird looked up, and said, with a laugh, “You recognized the Owen boobies! Good for you! Am I all goose bumps and ice-cube nips?” Leslie was bent over, struggling with the knots.

“Who did this?” she demanded.

The bird looked up. “Oh, you know…just Mr. O’Brien…”

“I think you can call him ‘Guy,’” snapped Leslie. “He fucked you on our kitchen table!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“Betsy, no!” said Leslie, abandoning the knots and kneeling. She put her arms around Betsy, felt the chill flesh against her. “What the hell was that evening about but… Oh, but you’re freezing!”

“Well, Victor and I sort of dropped in. I mean, not quite. Cell phone from the car. And Mr. O’Brien…Guy…said ‘Sure.’ I mean, ever since that night, here… Victor was devastated, at first. You know, his balls and all of us with dildos…his ass…But now…”

Leslie had finessed the knots. She took Betsy’s arm and drew her up. Betsy stood for a moment with her arms hugging her breasts. She said, hesitantly, “Now, I wonder if Victor will ever be interested in plain old… It used to be like he couldn’t wait to get me in bed…”

Leslie carefully lifted off the mask. The face was beautiful, but even more striking than beautiful. It had the strong, sure bones, the almost masculine strength of her mother’s face in the cheekbones, the jaw. But the eyes were big and light blue, the lips almost too full. It was a Norse beauty, to go with the statuesque figure. Leslie nodded slowly. She said, “It’s too early for that, Betsy. You’ve barely started. Guy and I…well, we were trying to revive something. But you and Victor are just discovering each other. Why don’t you forget about what happened the other night?”

Betsy did not look at her. She seemed to be scrutinizing the band of blue that was the bay beyond the trees. She said, “If it isn’t too late, maybe…”

Leslie threw her arms around her. “Come in, come in!” She hauled her toward the door. “Those idiots…”

“What the hell is this about?” Guy and Victor, in chairs facing one another in front of a good fire, turned to look at her when she spoke. “She’s freezing out there!” snapped Leslie.

“Hey, Leslie,” called Guy, with a wave. Victor quickly stood up. “Hello, Mrs. O’Brien. I think that…”

Betsy and Victor had been students in Leslie’s junior-year high-school English class, Betsy an ace student and talented writer, who was now starting her senior year at Columbia University, already on a steep trajectory toward initial success as a writer. Victor had done much better at varsity sports than English papers and now was working on the commercial fishing boats that still plied the waters off the East End. That kept Betsy coming commuting back to Castle Harbor most weekends.

“How long has she been tied out there?” Leslie demanded.

Victor glanced down, as though to check his watch, but did not look up again.

Guy said, “Look, Leslie…”

“How long?”

“Maybe an hour…” said Guy.

“You know what?” interrupted Leslie, irritably. “I don’t even want to hear about what the game was.” She turned to Betsy. “Come here,” she ordered. “I’ve got to warm you up.”

Betsy came forward obediently, as though she had forgotten that she was naked. Leslie took her arm and led her to the thick fur rug spread before the fire. Putting her hands on Betsy’s shoulders, she firmly pushed her down.

She turned to Guy and Victor. “Sit down!” she snapped. “You don’t have anything to do with this. You don’t get anything.”

Betsy had lowered herself onto the rug. Standing above her, Leslie jerked her tight black jersey over her head and fired it onto a chair. She seized her sports brassiere and yanked it up over her head so abruptly that her breasts bounced. She bent over and shoved down her tights, kicked them off. She turned to them: “Sit down! I’m going to warm her up. This has nothing to do with you!”

Almost contemptuously, she pushed down her thong. Her long, slender legs ended in a thick, untrimmed, dark-brown triangle. Her body was a lean, compact flow of muscles, tight thighs flowing into a flat belly, the contours of her abdomen, the uplifted breasts with their brazen nipples, broad shoulders… She had the pretty face of the outdoor girl, with pixie hair, over-sized brown eyes, firm and serious lips.

She knelt, now, between Betsy’s feet and gently pushed her back, onto the fur. Betsy let herself fall, sighing, the fire casting dancing rays and flickering lights over her full, sedate breasts and her rounded thighs with the triangle of light blond hair between them. She closed her eyes. At first, she had begun to cross her arms over her breasts, protectively, but caught herself and let her arms lie by her sides.

Leslie’s dark body slid forward over Betsy. There was a pause as Leslie aligned her fat, full nipples to the soft pink circles that topped Betsy’s big breasts. Then Leslie lowered her chest carefully to cover Betsy’s nipples with her own. “My titties are kissing your titties,” said Leslie softly. “All yours,” breathed Betsy. Her eyelids flickered, the perfect face was still, serene.

Now, Leslie lowered her lips to Betsy’s. When Betsy felt the first tickling touch, she started, but then relaxed deliberately, her full pink lips widening into a little smile. At first, the lips stayed firm as Leslie’s lips explored them. Then Leslie’s dark, mobile lips were teasing, pulling, crushing…and slowly Betsy’s lips opened and responded. The lips sought each other, searching, and then came together, locked, and the tongues were darting, invading… Betsy moaned very softly.

Her hips moved ever so slowly, grinding beneath Leslie’s. Betsy’s hands came up, tentatively at first, to on Leslie lean back. Then, as the kiss went on, the hands traveled down to Leslie’s tight buttocks, seizing the cheeks, squeezing, kneading, as the two bodies squirmed together before the fire.

Finally, Leslie drew away her lips, with a gasp, her face rigid with lust. Her head moved down on Betsy’s body, the lips sampling Betsy’s nipples, then the hollow of her lean belly. Suddenly, Leslie heaved to her knees. She grabbed the rug with both hands and yanked sideways, so that Betsy was turned with her thighs open toward the two men. She lifted the slender thighs back, open and back.

Guy and Victor leaned forward, on Guy’s face a half smile, on Victor’s a look of disbelief, his gaze intense. Betsy let her thighs loll wide until her damp blond bush had parted so the wet pink flesh was on display.

Leslie lay half over Betsy’s leg, so as not to block the view of the two men. She put two fingers on either side of Betsy’s swelling clitoris and pressed, pushing back the cowl of flesh so that Betsy’s little nubbin of clitoris shyly butted forward.

As though weary, Leslie let her cheek rest on Betsy’s belly, against the cushion of blond hair, and her tongue came out until it touched the unprotected clit. She wiggled her tongue against it, flicking, pushing, circling. Betsy’s hips were now beginning to jerk, her big buttocks churning. Her breath came quicker, rasping, and the shameless hips were heaving her pubis against Leslie’s tongue. Leslie maintained the leisurely pace, lazily tormenting the swollen pink button that seemed to pulse and throb.

Guy slid off the chair onto his knees.

“Sit back!” Leslie snapped. “I’m warming her up! All you idiots could think of was putting her outside!”

“Do it,” murmured Betsy, her voice shaking. “Just do it, okay?”

Still, Leslie tongue dallied over the slickness, circling the offered clit.

“I need it!” said Betsy crossly, heaving her sweat-dark pussy into Leslie’s face.

Leslie lazily reached up and pushed two fingers into Betsy’s vagina. She began to curl the fingers, dragging against the roof of Betsy’s pussy.

“Oh, shit, yes, my fucking cunt!” It was almost a sob. Betsy was throwing her hips wildly, now. Her face was contorted, lips curled back.

Suddenly, her hand clapped down on Leslie’s head, jamming it. “Do it harder! Come on, you bitch! Do me!” She was mashing Leslie’s face down, angrily, impatiently. “Do me, bitch!”

Suddenly, Leslie lips locked on the fattened button, sucking hard, her tongue lashing the swollen hillock of flesh. At the same time, her hand shot in and out of Betsy’s pussy, reaming it.

Oh, fuck the shit out of me!” It was like a long sob. Betsy’s mouth was open as though to scream. And she did, a long protest against the monstrous pleasure, “No, no, no, no, no…”

Then she violently shoved Leslie’s face away, and, at the same time, heaved over onto her side, her thighs jacked up into the fetal position. And still she murmured, “No, no, no…” panting like a runner.

“Jesus!” breathed Victor. He glanced over at Guy, then looked away, quickly. Guy had slumped in the chair, pushing down his trousers and underwear. His penis was standing straight up, dark in the firelight. He was rubbing his hand and up down the long rod in long, slow strokes.

Suddenly, it was Leslie’s voice. “Stop it! This is disgusting!” She had slapped away Guy’s hand. “I have other plans for you two!”

Guy looked up at her, dreamily. “There is no woman on Earth like you,” he said softly.

“Shut up!” said Leslie, standing over him, hands on hips, still completely naked. Her nipples yearned outward. Her lips twitched, as though threatening a smile.

She turned to Victor. “Get up! I just did your girlfriend for you!” When he did not move quickly enough, she grabbed his collar and dragged him up. “Both of you! Strip to the waist, now! This is no game!”

She turned, bending over Betsy, and for a moment ran two fingers along a smooth thigh. “Come on, Sweets. I think that warmed you up. We have to deal with these buffoons!” Then, she strode off toward the kitchen.

“Okay, hands behind your backs. It’s payback time.” She stalked back into room, a knife and ball of thick twine in her hands. She stood behind Guy. “You first.” Guy complied, not without a sigh, and in short order Leslie had his arms bound behind him, each wrist tied to the opposite arm so that he stood with his arms folded behind his back.

“Now you, Victor,” she said. Moments later, she ordered, “All right, into the kitchen,” and gave Victor a shove in that direction.

Victor turned to look at Guy. “She really knows her knots.” Guy nodded. “Coming from a commercial fisherman, that’s quite a compliment. Anyway, I discovered her remarkable talent with knots this summer—to my sorrow.”

“Oh,” said Victor. She had shepherded them into the kitchen. She placed them beside the table. “Okay, just stand there. Betsy and I have to have some lunch.” She started for the refrigerator. Without looking back, she said, “Betsy, get my husband’s pants off, so we can see his prick while we eat.” Then, she added, “But first, you get yourself dressed.”

“Don’t dress for us,” said Victor.

“Shut up,” said Leslie. She turned and walked back. She stood facing him. He was a good-looking young man, with a rugged face, already deeply tanned from the sun and sea. He had grown a brown beard, which he kept neatly trimmed—a choice Leslie applauded. His bare chest and arms were full and hard, though not to the extent Guy’s were; there was nothing like the Marines–a decade ago, in Guy’s case—to stress the pecs.

Now, Leslie grabbed Victor’s belt, whipped it open, unsnapped his dungarees, and then stooped, seized his pants on either side, roughly yanking down both his pants and his underwear. For a second, his freed penis bobbed up and down and its thicket of brown hair.

Leslie stood up. Victor looked a little taken aback, but far from distressed. In a second, a grin came onto his face. Leslie started to turn away, but, as she did, delivered a quick, sharp slap to his balls with the back of her hand. Victor cried out, startled, and bent over to protect himself. “And stop grinning,” said Leslie, without turning around. “This isn’t going to be fun.”

Guy looked over at Victor and said, “Here we go.”

When Betsy came back, her slim legs snugly fitted into dungarees that were so tight around her hips and butt that she might have been wearing them when they had shrunk, she halted and stared at Victor. He had straightened up, but couldn’t quite keep his legs still, as though he longed to massage his testicles. He looked at her and shrugged.

“Um, okay,” said Betsy. She knelt before Guy and carefully unbuckled his pants, pulling them gently. She hesitated for a moment, glancing up at him, then took his underwear at either side and gingerly eased it down. His thick penis was at the level of her face, arching gently toward her. It wasn’t the first time she had seen it. On the first incredible night when her mother, Marlene, and she and Victor all were the evening’s novelty—or perhaps entertainers—at a dinner party in this very house, she had been crazed after several hours of wild arousal–included stiffening two dicks then used on other women—that had not produced any orgasm for her. She finally had dragged Guy into the kitchen, shut the door, and heaved herself up on the table, naked to the waist, and demanded to be “done.” It has been the most explosive climax of her young life.

Now, Leslie was coming to the table with two plates. “Here we are Betsy,” she said. Then, she frowned at Guy and Victor and said, “You two look like little boys, standing with your pants around your ankles. Come on, finish the job—kick off your shoes and flick away your pants. We’ll handle your socks later.”

“You two are going to have to feed us, you know—bite by bite,” said Guy. “Can Betsy be my feeder?”

Leslie put down the plate and looked at him. Her eyes narrowed, for a moment, and she walked slowly around the table, toward him.

“All right, all right,” said Guy. “For Christ’s sake, run the party the way you want.”

She had come to stand directly in front of him. He looked at her nervously. He started to bend over, instinctively, to protect himself.

“I will do exactly that,” said Leslie severely, turning away as though satisfied. Then, at the last moment, the back of her hand shot out, landing exactly on target, and Guy yelled, then moaned, bending over. “Oh, my God,” murmured Betsy, staring at Guy’s bright red, contorted face.

“What do you think of them, comparatively speaking?” asked Leslie as though chatting with a girlfriend over coffee.

“You mean…”

Leslie nodded.

Betsy examined the two packages presented to her. She frowned a moment, gently biting on her lip. “Both good-sized cocks,” she said, slowly. “I think Victor already has the start of a hard-on, though, and maybe Guy’s things are shrinking back a little, right now…”

“No shit!” hissed Guy between clenched teeth.

“I don’t like the way their balls hide down between their legs, like that,” said Leslie, frowning. “They ought to have to stick right out, like our tits, for everyone to comment on…”

“I see what you mean,” said Betsy. “Sort of shrinking violets, down there, under the dick and all that hair.”

“Tell you what,” said Leslie. “Grab some twine out of that drawer”—she waved toward the kitchen. “Tie a nice tight loop down there, so their packages are on display.”

In the end, Leslie had to demonstrate, grabbing the whole handful of Victor’s penis and scrotum, right at their base, and stretching them away from his body. Then, she said, “Okay, take a couple of nice tights loops as close as you can to his belly, then make a knot.” After a moment, she added, “Not too tight. I want to see purple, not black, you know?” She added: “Ever see a woman’s boobs when they tie them really tight? Yikes, I saw one poor gal with big danglers that they tied so tight they turned almost black. Then, of course, they started to slap the shit out of the poor things! I always wonder what if they left them tied, like that.”

Betsy said, hesitantly, “I think I’ve seen that. I mean, I did check out a few S&M sites, and bondage, and all that. Why do they do so many scary things to tits? Men seem to love them.”

“Seems like men just can’t get enough of experimenting with mommy’s boobs,” said Leslie. “Everything you can think of has been done to tits.” Then, she said, “Good job. They’re really out there, aren’t they? Come sit down and eat.”

She saw Betsy glance a little anxiously at Victor. “Oh, don’t worry,” said Leslie. “You and I will cook them a lovely early dinner, if they behave. I just don’t want them to exercise on a full stomach.”


“I thought a couple miles along the beach, you know? Almost no one there, this time of year, but we’ll wear masks. Just in case someone comes along.”

“Oh, my God,” muttered Victor.

“Yup,” said Guy. “She’s out of her fucking mind.”

Leslie started to get up. “Okay, okay,” said Guy, hastily. “Cool it.”

She settled back in her seat. “Let him off, this time,” she said.

Victor and Guy could deem themselves blessed, Leslie said, as the two women in shorts, warm shirts, and running shoes led the way down the sloping lawn toward the woods. The two men, completely naked, arms still bound behind them and private parts jacked up and out for public inspection, followed after—rather anxiously keeping pace, in fact, since Leslie held looped around her hand the end of a thick piece of twine that was attached, about 10 feet behind her, to the middle of another piece of twine. This piece ran, in turn, from Guy to Victor–attached on either end to the loops of twine already wrapped around the base of their penises and scrota.

Everyone in the strange procession wore a different mask, the bizarre faces of Florentine carnival—wild grins or scowls, grotesque beaks, feathers, only the eyes and mouths mere cutouts. At least, thought Guy, they could see and breathe. And if they chanced upon his employees—or customers—from Castle Harbor Security Services, with any luck no one could identify him merely by his tormented blue cock and balls. He would let Leslie do the talking, if there was any, since her mask was fitted with a mouthpiece that distorted words into a bizarre parody of a chirping bird.

They could reckon themselves fortunate, she had said, because the late October day had become unseasonably mild as the afternoon wore on—much warmer, Leslie pointed out, than when Betsy sat tied outside not even moving to keep warm. When she had pronounced the word, “moving,” Leslie had emphasized it with an angry jerk on the twine, causing Guy and Victor to yelp and hustle forward.

All right, Leslie sang out, cheerfully, as they reached the verge of the woods. Let’s pick up the pace, boys. But be careful on the path, there are lots of roots and branches; don’t want to stub a toe. And try not to take a spill, because that could cause quite a jerk on the other end of that twine, you know?

Soon, they were jogging along the velvety pine-needle path, the women with easy strides, side by side, the men doing their best to stay close to one another since the twine that connected their balls was only three feet long. “What a beautiful day,” called Leslie from the front of the procession.

“Fuck off!” Guy retorted from the rear.

“Hey,” Victor said, anxiously, “watch it…”

But he was too late. Leslie gave a sudden, violent yank on her end of the twine. Both sensitive packages stretched forward, momentarily, balls pulled foremost, bunched tight in their smooth and now distinctly blue scrota.

By the time they broke from the woods onto the beach, all four were breathing deeply, talking less to save breath. Before them, the brilliance of the sun on the 50-foot-wide bay beach forced them squint. Under the bare feet of the men, the sand was toasty warm. Guy shot glances up and down the beach, but saw no one in either direction. He wondered what the hell passers-by might conclude if they encountered two stark-naked men being led by the nuts on a jog along a public beach. “Come to Castle Harbor, where Saturday afternoons on the beach are made for love.”

The desirable privacy prevailed for about 10 minutes, while the caravan pushed along the firm strip of wet sand where the little edge of brownish foam rolled up and retreated, occasionally surprising the men with a final sprint higher that covered their feet in water chilled by the autumn nights.

Typical, thought Guy: all typical–typical of the mad fantasy that their lives had become over the past year, where anything could happen, where nothing was taboo. Although, on second thought, feeling vulnerable, right now, Guy didn’t want to find out if that proposition about “nothing taboo” was true at the extreme. He glanced over at Victor; the young man was holding well, obviously fit, breathing heavily but easily, taking comfortable strides. No doubt excited by the prospect of the next act in the play, with Leslie and Betsy thoroughly turned-on by what they had done, Victor had managed the beginnings of an erection. Ah, youth…

The reverie then collapsed. Guy glanced up and saw, a hundred yards ahead, three young men already clearly visible through the crisp air. They were coming toward them. Now what?

“Try to look your best, guys,” Leslie chirped from ahead. “Remember, you have nothing to be shy about. You both have nice big dicks and lots of sexy crotch hair.”

Victor glanced over. Naturally, Guy could not tell if the young man looked anxious; the mask presented itself blankly, as though reflective of a mind erased of ideas. But Guy noticed that the erection had actually increased. A little exhibitionist streak?

“Don’t say anything,” called Guy to him. “They won’t recognize us, unless your schlong is famous at the gym or something.”

Victor shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said. “Maybe back in the locker room with the football team…” As though to check out this idea, the mask looked down at the penis, now jouncing stiffly with each stride.

“Hi!” Leslie called, with a wave. She brought her troop to a halt. At first, the approaching men waved mechanically, scarcely looking at them. But, as they neared, they began to stare intently. They halted some distance away, as though fearful, and began talk to one another in low voices. Leslie and Betsy kept nearing them, tugging along the men.

Finally, one of the three men asked, with an uneasy laugh, “What the hell is this? Taking the stud horses around the tracks?” The others chuckling, now openly evaluating what Guy and Victor revealed.

“Oh, they’ve been misbehaving, a little,” said Leslie. “They needed to see who ran the stable.”

The men were frowning at her, trying to scrutinize the mask from which the weird voice emanated. “I’m supposed to be a bird of prey,” volunteered Leslie in the disturbing chirp. She pointed at her mouth: “A little thing in here does it. I didn’t even know you could buy a mask like this till I saw it.”

“Looks like carnival,” said one of the men.

The bird nodded assent.

“How do you like our studs?” asked Leslie brightly. She waved her hand toward where Guy and Victor stood, still breathing heavily, lightly glistening with sweat, their masks facing slightly down, as though with becoming modesty about what they could not conceal.

“I like very, very much,” said one of the other men. “VERY much. Both of them.”

“Good enough to eat,” said another of the men.

“Oh,” said Leslie. “That’s what guys sometimes say about us.” She nodded toward Betsy. “Not today, I guess.”

“Oh, you both are really cute,” said one of the men, hastily, and added: “At least as much as I can see. But we’re…” He glanced at the other two. “You know, we’re into boys.”

“Got it,” said Leslie, “sure.” She added, casually, “You’re all involved with each other, I guess?”

“Nah,” said one of the men, with a laugh. “Doesn’t work that way. Any more than guys and girls hanging out together are automatically screwing.”

“We would actually like to meet some guys, out here,” said another. “We took a house together over the summer. Now we have it weekends through Thanksgiving. Lots of gay guys out here, but less action than you would think.” He added, a little wistfully, “At least for us.”

“Well, these are out guys,” said Leslie. “Do they turn you on?”

One of the men glanced at his friends, grinned, shrugged, and said, “Well, yeah. Straight guys. Great bodies…” His laugh was almost a giggle. “Powerful advertising…”

“You can have them, if you want,” said Leslie encouragingly. “Don’t be shy!”


Leslie wasn’t sure if Guy had said it, or one of the men, or both at once.

“No, for God’s sake,” pleaded Victor. “Please?”

“Oh, you let them talk,” said one of the men, gesturing at Victor. “Do they have any say?”

“Absolutely, not,” said Leslie firmly. “They have no say at all. And they’re tied up–but watch for my husband’s feet. He once told me he had six ways to kill a guy with just his feet.” She added, “Don’t worry, he knows he has to behave.”

The young man who seemed to speak for for the others now glanced at them. “Totally, totally weird, right?”

One of the others shrugged. “So what’s going to happen to us? I can get it up, for sure.”

The other man turned back to Leslie. “Well, okay.” He sounded as though he had been offered a sack of gold coins by a stranger in the street and couldn’t quite credit his luck.”

Guy made as though to turn back down the beach.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Leslie, with a tug on the twine.

She turned to the three men. “Come on, guys, strip down. You aren’t modest in front of mere women, are you?”

Hesitantly, at first, then quickly and efficiently, the three were heaving off their T-shirts and dropping their trousers and underwear. In less than a minute, three fairly handsome, well-built, but slightly disbelieving young men stood naked, facing them. One reached down unconsciously to massage himself. Betsy just stared, her mask turned to them. Guy and Victor were motionless, waiting, as though in shock, resigned, but uncertain just what was to happen.

“Only one thing,” said Leslie. She reached into a small bag slung over her shoulder. “I ALWAYS carry these.” She held up three square plastic packages. She said, “You just never know.”

“Sure,” said one of the men, easily. “Good idea,” said another.

“My friend and I can slip them on, for you,” said Leslie helpfully.

“Well,” said one of the men, hesitating and glancing down at himself, “we aren’t ready quite that fast.”

“And it wouldn’t help at all if I gave you a little hand job, to get you started?”

“Doesn’t work that way,” said one of the men sheepishly.

“Okay,” said Leslie, suddenly all-business. “Let’s get this done, okay?” She turned and walked to Guy. Nearing him, she reached out with her hand; he jumped back, but she only took his penis and gave a reassuring squeeze. She looked back at the three young men. “He really isn’t into guys, at all, but we get him raped often enough to keep him in the game.” She turned to Victor. “Sorry we don’t have any lube, but I’m sure they’ll get your asshole as wet as they can.”

She stepped behind Guy and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. At first he resisted, but she held his bound arms, stuck out her leg, and pulled him back back over it. He seemed more to let himself fall, resigned, than to trip. He lay naked on the sand, the expressionless mask looking up.

The men had approached. “Okay,” said Leslie, “get him up on her knees.” She added, “if that’s the way you want him…”

“Kneeling first,” said one of the young men politely. “If that’s okay?”

“Up,” said Leslie. She took Guy’s arm as he struggled to his knees. Leslie carefully raised his mask, but just enough to expose Guy’s mouth. A naked young man stepped forward, put his hand behind Guy’s head, and, with the other hand, lifted his penis and held it out, pushing it against Guy’s lips.

Silently, Guy opened his mouth and took the penis, already erect enough so that he had to stretch his lips wide. Standing before him, the young man began to ease his hips back and forth, slowly, thrusting and withdrawing the shaft that slid in and out of Guy’s mouth, lengthening and reddening as it did. Guy made a choking sound and pulled back his head.

Leslie already had gone to Victor. She didn’t have to trip him. He simply knelt, as though hopeless, after seeing Guy submit. Leslie adjusted his mask, and another of the men soon was feeding a rapidly swelling penis into Victor’s mouth. The bearded mouth closed around it and the rhythmical thrust began.

Leslie turned to the third one, and said, “That leaves only you, I guess. Sorry.”

“Taking turns,” said the man with an easy smile.

“Are you SURE this doesn’t do a thing?” asked Leslie. She reached out and gently took his penis in her hand. She stood close to him, so that the bird’s face was only inches from his. She began to work her hand, moving the stretchy skin up and down the shaft, rolling the head of the penis between her thumb and forefinger. The man slowly closed his eyes.

“I think your cock is stiffening a little,” said Leslie softly. “Do you want to pop it into my mouth?”

The young man slowly shook his head, sighing with pleasure. “No, that’s okay, but this is very, very nice. You have a good touch.”

“Don’t come,” said Leslie, “it’s almost your turn.”

Already, one of the other men was making a sound between a growl and a gasp. Suddenly, he snapped, “Okay, stop! Stop!”

“Down, now,” he ordered, pushing Victor. Victor obediently dropped his face to rest sideways on the sand—the best he could do with his arms tied behind him–his butt thrust up into the air.

Instantly, the young man knelt behind him. Betsy stood watching as the man’s hands parted Victor’s buttocks and the man’s head came forward, carefully letting saliva fall into Victor’s crack. Then, holding his penis, now totally erect and sheathed in the condom, he presented its fat head at Victor’s asshole.

“Here it comes,” he said, unnecessarily, and gave his hips a careful but energetic shove forward. Victor moaned, then made a quick, high-pitched noise like a squeak of surprise. “No…,” he moaned. It was a long, drawn-out, and wholly ineffective cry of protest. “No…” he whined, again.

Abruptly, Victor’s body jerked forward, as if a car hit from the rear. “No!” he yelled. And then, “No…no…no…” with each jolt. It went on for what seemed to Betsy only a minute or so, but Victor’s legs were trembling at the knees, and his breath was a squeal. Betsy never looked away, though the mask yielded no hint of her feeling.

Now, Guy was protesting, too. Betsy turned. Guy was getting it from both ends. The young man behind rhythmically slamming him forward, another in front holding up his head and pushing his pubis into Guy’s face, the penis deep in Guy’s throat. No sound but a sort urgent humming came from Guy.

Suddenly, Victor cried out, and Betsy whirled back to look. The young man behind him, approaching his ecstasy, had reached down between Victor’s legs and seized his balls in a wave of lust. He must have squeezed convulsively, because Victor was gasping and pleading “Stop! My nuts! No! My nuts!”

And then the young man was spurting, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent moan. He still held Victor’s balls.

September 2018
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