Mmm, listen to the quiet susurration of rain on the tile
roof. A comfortable sound in the warmth of the lounge.
The fire has burned down now, only the embers flaring
briefly to life when the wind outside causes a draft in
the fireplace.
Lightning is flickering on the hills to the east; a
reminder of the storm that passed over here a few hours
ago, and the unpredictable illumination compliments the
glow of the fireplace, and the cool light from this
laptop computer. The candles that were burning before
are just pools of wax now.
I’m feeling very relaxed. The house around me is
radiating a beautiful sense of contentment and
fulfillment. Upstairs five bodies are weary, and happy,
asleep. I’ll join them in a moment; 2:00am is a bloody
silly time to be typing away at a word-processor. Still,
the story won’t let me rest until it’s on paper, so I’ll
persevere and write it while the emotions are still
real.
Pizza, red wine, good company, and a spa and pool. House
rules: No clothes to be worn by or in the pool.
Saturday evening, Janine and Darryl came over to watch
videos and christen the spa-pool. They were armed with a
nice bottle of Cabernet Merlot, and ‘Cat People’, the
video. Nothing can compare to the throaty bass of David
Bowies theme smiting the air through an intimidating
sound system. ‘Dial-a-Dinos’ pizza arrived as scheduled:
7:30pm, the television had been hauled outside with the
speakers from the amplifier, and the evening had become
dark quickly. We all stripped naked and quickly piled
into the spa-pool to avoid the crisp, late winter air.
The best scene from the movie is where Natasha Kinski is
tied to the bed, the camera angle is from directly
above, looking down on her luscious naked body. The hero
who is tying her up spreads her legs just that little
bit more, for the camera. Very tasty.
And then he fucks her.
Now you and I both know that she turns into a panther
here, and that she is helplessly tied to the bed. I KNOW
he fucks her again. Who would miss an opportunity like
that, right? Around 9:30ish the sky was beginning to
turn black-on- velvet with clouds, and the slight breeze
picked up. It was too unpleasant to remain outside, so
we hastily picked up the entertainment and headed
indoors just as the first spatterings of rain began to
speckle the cobblestones.
I started the fire, and dimmed the lounge lights, and
the four of us sprawled out on cushions in a semi-circle
around the flickering warmth. We were all wearing naught
but bathrobes. Darryl deftly fashioned a joint to pass
around. The mellow buzz it produced complimented the
light-headedness of the wine so that we were all relaxed
and at ease in the glow of each other’s company. The
conversation flowed and ebbed, drifting >from topic to
topic; briefly alighting on one subject before flitting
to the next.
A momentary bright flash of light followed a couple of
seconds later by a deep rumble meant the storm was
building up to greater strength, and the rain went
suddenly from a gently hiss on the tile roof to an
undulating roar.
Hamlet, our Great Dane dog, padded quickly into the
lounge looking sheepish. No doubt the storm was making
him nervous, and he had sought us out for the
reassurance. Xanth, our Mastiff bitch, was probably
sleeping through it in the kitchen.
Hamlet stretched out his front paws and lowered his
front half to the floor between myself and Darryl.
Eventually he lowered his tail-end to the floor too. It
seems to be an effort for him to get his rump down to
the floor.
A friend of mine has this theory that Hamlets bum is
full of Helium, and therefore lighter, so it’s harder to
force it down to floor level. Then he awkwardly shuffled
forward on his elbows until his front paws were almost
in the fireplace. As the heat soaked into the heat-
leech, he drifted off to sleep with his head on his
paws.
It was time, therefore, to bring out the deck of cards,
for a game of strip poker. Heather has a lovely deck;
the face of each card has a highly detailed charcoal
sketch of a sexual perversion. The four suits are Spades
= Self-abuse. For example the four of spades features a
woman bringing herself to orgasm with a large, knobbled
dildo; the ten of spades features a man lying on his
back on the floor with his legs lifted back over his
head, cumming into his own mouth.
Clubs = Bondage; variations on the theme of people tied
/ chained / shackled in various positions and
situations; the queen of clubs features a nude man on
his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back, his
head held down by a collar fixed to the floor so his
chin is on the ground. A woman dressed in classic
‘bitch’ attire stands behind him forcing the handle of a
large bull-whip up his arse.
Diamonds = Pedophilia. Children from around age three to
thirteen, boys and girls involved in sex with each other
and adults. Hearts = Bestiality.
I’m tempted to describe each card in detail here, but
I’ll just give a description of my favorites. The three
of hearts features a charcoal drawing of a huge bulldog
mounting a woman from behind, drooling on her neck as he
fucks her. The four shows a man screwing a gorgeous
tigress. The eight of hearts is interesting; a naked man
is held down on the ground by several monkeys, his arms
and legs spread and immobile.
Most of the male monkeys are jerking themselves off, and
cumming on the guy. Two monkeys are licking his chest,
and another is playing with his dick. The big toe of the
guys right foot is firmly implanted in the fanny of a
female ape, who is pleasuring herself on him. Several
apes in the background are screwing / sucking each
other. Quite a detailed little orgy.
Then there is the queen of hearts. This depicts a nice
picture of a woman swimming underwater on her back,
embracing a male dolphin. The drawing is such that her
leg closest the artist is lower, so the dolphins dick
can clearly be seen entering her.
Okay, so we were playing strip poker. Remember, we were
all only wearing bathrobes, so after the first hand
Heather was naked. Then Darryl. Darryl lost the next
hand too. What to do, what to do? It’s kinda traditional
to play forfeits after a player loses strip poker, and
who were we to break a long-standing tradition?
Janine had won that hand so she had the right to set the
forfeit. With an evil glint in her eye she declared that
Darryl had to retrieve the can of Whipped Cream from the
refrigerator, spray it on his balls, and let Hamlet lick
it off.
Personally I thought that it was a rather daring forfeit
to open the game with. Evidently Darryl thought so too,
and scowled at her, but went to the ‘fridge anyway. He
returned shaking the can vigorously.
At the first touch of the cream on his balls he fairly
shrieked that it was, “Fucking cold!”
Hamlet was instantly wide awake at the first smell of
the cream, and eagerly set to licking the sweet goo off
Darryl’s balls as he knelt near Hamlets head. Darryl’s
scowl faded into a look of pleasure at the caress of
Hamlets soft tongue.
Next hand, Janine lost, so she quickly shed her gown. I
hate being the only one dressed, so I deliberately
misplayed my next hand, and lost. Janine lost the next
hand, with Darryl the winner. You should have seen the
look of insane glee that leapt onto Darryl’s face! He
pointed to the can of whipped cream and declared that
Janine had to spray it onto Hamlets balls, and then lick
it off.
The scowl she shot back at him would have frozen argon.
I commanded Hamlet to roll over onto his back, and he
lay there with his back legs splayed out, wagging his
tail. Heather distracted him by scratching his ears
while Janine sprayed the cream onto his balls. He jumped
when the cold touched him, but lay fairly still. Then
Janine leaned over and, tentatively at first, began to
lick the stuff off Hamlets balls.
Soon, with mounting enthusiasm, she was taking Hamlets
whole ballsack into her mouth and sucking gently.
Everyone was getting quite aroused watching, including
Hamlet! Darryl decided she had forfeited enough, and
that we better play the next hand before he lost
control.
I decided to misplay my next hand too, and lost. Darryl
had won again, but before he set my forfeit, Heather
grabbed the cards I had discarded earlier in the hand
and showed them to the others.
“How often do you throw out two aces in poker, hmmm?”,
she smiled sweetly at me. Oops. Busted. Darryl set my
forfeit, and Heather set my punishment; for losing the
hand Darryl wanted to sixty-nine with me, and for
cheating I wasn’t allowed to cum.
We lay on the rug on our sides, face to cock, and I
began to explore Darryl’s balls with my tongue. Similar
sensations were playing on my balls. Nuzzling my face
into his pubic hair I began to lick his shaft, feeling
him do the same to my dick. With one hand I began
pulling his foreskin back and forward as my lips slipped
over the swollen head of his dick. This was echoed on my
own dick, which was putting me in serious danger of
breaking my punishment by cumming.
Normally if I wanted to stave off orgasm for awhile I
would bite my tongue, and think of something dull (just
how DO you differentiate a quadratic equation…), but
with Darryl’s dick down my throat so I couldn’t bite my
tongue, and the sensations he was ministering with his
mouth and hands, I was getting closer and closer to
cumming.
Heather and Janine were sitting close together, watching
our performance. By watching between Darryl’s legs I
could see that Heather was gently massaging Janine’s
breast, while she in turn was stroking Heathers inner
thighs. The way Heather leaned her head back with her
eyes closed told me that Janine’s fingers were getting a
little more intimate.
Suddenly Darryl tensed and his fingers dug into the
flesh of my thighs as his cock spasmed in my mouth. My
taste was flooded with several quick spurts of his warm
semen that I eagerly swallowed. He was involuntarily
squeezing and sucking hard on my dick as he came. It was
too much and I couldn’t hold myself back any longer.
With an anguished gurgle of thwarted willpower I felt
the waves of pleasure wash into me as I came into
Darryl’s mouth.
We rolled apart slightly and I lay on my back on the
rugs with my eyes closed to savor the departing tingles
of pleasure. A bright flare registered through my closed
eyelids, punctuated by the telephone chirping in
surprise. Less than half a second later a huge crash of
sound shook the whole house. I jumped and opened my eyes
to find the room mostly dark. The storm had knocked the
power out so the fire was providing the only
illumination.
Heather left the room in search, I guessed, of candles.
A moment later I heard the rattle of wheels coming down
the hall with the glow of candles preceding. When the
stocks rolled into the lounge, pushed by Heather, I was
a little surprised. Xanth followed her in, woken at last
by the storm, and flopped in front of the fire.
I think I mentioned the stocks once. They are something
I built on a whim once when I had some timber left over
from a wind-shelter. It was built with comfort in mind
(as much as that is possible with stocks). It has a
horizontal beam with three depressions cut into it,
lined with velvet, for two arms and a head. A matching
beam fits over the first and is locked into place with a
padlock, holding the victim bent over so their head is
only slightly higher than their bum, (adjustable, of
course, for shorter or taller people).
The victim’s feet are held immobile between the frame of
the base by chained shackles (also velvet lined). For
comfort, a padded knee-rest has been provided so
although the victim is standing bent at the waist, there
is little muscular strain and they can be held there for
hours without discomfort (from the stocks, that is).
Heather placed the candles around the room and the
effect was quite pleasant; the room took on an air of
ritual, reverence. She turned toward me, “Well, you
broke your forfeit a second time, so you have to occupy
the stocks until further notice.”
They locked me in, nude, bent over and vulnerable. And
then they tortured me. All I could do was watch as
Heather began caressing Janine’s nipples again, then she
leaned over and began to lick them. Gently she helped
Janine lay back, and then ran her hands down Janine’s
body.
With her fingertips Heather traced lines down Janine’s
legs, then dragged her nails carefully up her thighs.
Janine spread her legs, and Heather knelt between them,
and lowered her head to kiss the exposed flesh of her
sex.
Hamlet suddenly stood and wandered over to stand over
Janine’s head. He does that when he’s horny and wants to
be jerked off. I thought Janine would ignore him, but I
was as surprised as Darryl when Janine reached up and
began playing with Hamlets balls.
Looking somewhat affronted, Darryl watched Janine
rubbing Hamlets sheath back and forth over the dogs
growing hard-on, while Heather was tonguing her vagina
lips. Then Darryl shrugged his shoulders and started
scratching Xanth down her back with his nails. She
glanced around and thumped her tail on the ground, then
abruptly rolled over, waving her legs in the air and
snuffling.
Like Heather, Darryl leaned over Xanth to lick her
nipples, eight in all. His tongue traced around each
nipple, then down to the ‘Y’ shaped opening of her
pussy. I have never been keen on the taste of Xanth, but
Darryl was lapping her up with real enthusiasm.
Watching the performance of Janine writhing with
pleasure >from Heathers tongue, while the first squirts
of Hamlets cum splashed into her mouth, and Xanth
bucking her hips up off the floor to meet Darryl’s
tonguing was making me horny as hell. And I was stuck in
the damned stocks, for my sins.
The thunder rumbled deeply again, and Janine started
cumming. She wrapped her legs around Heathers head, and
(rather rudely, I thought) pushed Hamlet away so she
could grab Heathers hair with her fingers. With a moan
of pure delight she rocked her hips as Heather sucked on
her clit.
Xanth too seemed to be in the throes of ecstasy, licking
her lips and humping to force her own hot-spot against
the pressure of Darryl’s mouth.
I needed some action real bad, so although I couldn’t go
anywhere, I could still call Hamlet over. Leaving the
bodies writhing on the floor, he wandered over to me and
snuffled at my balls with his cold, wet nose. “Hup,
Hamlet. Hup”, I encouraged him. No stranger to this kind
of invitation, he jumped up and placed his front paws on
my back. Then he shuffled his feet forward until the tip
of his thrusting penis was poking me around my arsehole.
Normally I would reach around with my hand and guide him
into me, but my hands were kinda restricted, so all I
could do was move my bum around and hope we connected.
Eventually the pointed tip scored a hit on the hole, and
he slowed his thrusting to a sustained push to get the
length of his dick inside me. Mmmm, there is nothing
like feeling the slow penetration of a dogs dick into
your butt. Then he dropped down so his chest was resting
on my back, and his front legs were grasping me around
my waist so he could increase the tempo of his thrusting
to a rhythmic pummeling.
It was quite lucky that he didn’t tie with me; that is
where the swelling at the base of his dick (in Hamlets
case, a lump of flesh the size of a tennis ball) lodges
inside my arse. If he had, at the rate he was fucking me
he probably would have torn my arsehole to ribbons. As
he drove into me, his balls slapped against my thighs,
and the knot of his dick stretched my sphincter to the
point of pain trying to gain access.
Finally he stopped his frantic humping and just held me
with his dick pulsing inside me. Each pulse was a squirt
of dog-cum into my rectum. Personally I think this is
the most sensual moment, where Hamlet is deeply immersed
in the flow of his orgasm, just resting his body on my
back, and I am savoring the sensation of his dick
swollen to its maximum size, pulsing inside me.
The others were watching me and Hamlet now. I didn’t
mind; I’ve always enjoyed my sexual adventurousness.
With a grunt, Hamlet stepped off me, and his dick slid
easily out of my hole. He walked away slightly with his
head down, and dick hanging around his knees, still
squirting jets of clear liquid onto the floor. Then he
lay down and licked himself clean.
Darryl was still hard from the erotic pleasure of
licking Xanth, so he stood and began caressing my balls
from behind. I couldn’t turn my head to look, but when
he grabbed my waist with his hands I knew what was
happening next. With a firm push, his dick slid into my
arse, and for the second time that evening I was being
fucked up the arse. To be honest, Darryl and Hamlet are
about similar in diameter and length (except for Hamlets
knot, the ‘widow-maker’), so he slid easily into me in
the lubrication of Hamlets cum.
He fucked me hard, driving into me so my shoulders were
pushed into the foam padding of the stocks. His fingers
clawed into the flesh on my hips giving me a mix of
pleasure tempered with pain. With a growl that scaled up
into a roar of animal lust, Darryl slammed his dick into
me, and started cumming. The intensity of it caused him
to gouge the flesh of my hips leaving bruises that will
take a week to vanish. Then he leaned over me and
wrapped his arms around my chest, hugging my back while
his dick jumped and pulsed in my bowels.
He lay like that, on top of me until he started going
soft again, and his dick slipped out from me. I clamped
my sphincter tight to stop the liquid from following.
There was a polite smattering of applause from the two
women as Darryl stood. He undid the locks on the stocks
on the condition that I would screw Xanth in front of
everyone. Definitely!! Janine and Heather swapped roles
so that Heather was on the receiving end of Janine’s
oral manipulations.
Darryl was too fucked out to do much so he just lay on
his side on the sheepskin rugs watching the performance.
With a hard-on that was almost hurting, and fire in my
veins, I called Xanth over. She rolled over onto her
feet and stood wagging her tail, then snuffled at my
damp arsehole to lick up the residue of Hamlet and
Darryl’s release.
She forced her nose between my legs and squeezed through
so my balls dragged along her back. I scratched down her
back with my nails as she went, and as her tail flicked
along the crack of my arse and under my balls, we both
shivered with pleasure.
There was no need for lubricants. Clear liquid from my
arousal was flowing freely from the end of my dick, and
Xanth was well aroused from her encounter with Darryl. I
crouched slightly behind her and grasped her thigh with
one hand. The other guided my cock to her velvet-lined
entrance. Gently, but firmly, I pulled her hip back as I
pushed forward.
Entry was so easy, helped by my foreskin peeling back as
the tip of my meat opened the soft lips of her pussy.
Warmth from her body surrounded my meat, and her muscles
gently squeezed and released, squeezed and released
along my dick. I just closed my eyes and leaned my head
back while I pulled her back onto my dick as hard as I
could and held her there, savoring her tightness.
Then I pulled out slightly, just an inch or so, and slid
back into her. Then again, just an inch or so. Paused
slightly to savor her warmth. Again I pulled out and
slid back in, a little faster and a little further, and
the friction of her tight hole stepped up my urgency.
Soon I was fucking her with a steady rhythm, both of my
hands on her hips pulling her back to meet my thrusts.
The pressure of my orgasm started to build and I
couldn’t hold back any longer. As hard and as far as I
could I forced my dick into Xanth in time with the waves
of ecstasy washing into me. For each pulse of my dick,
there was an answering squeeze from Xanth, and I howled
with pleasure and release. When I am fucking an animal,
I become an animal myself. The mantle of rationality
drops, and I become a machine designed to fuck.
Spent, I lay back onto the sheepskins where Xanth
snuggled next to me. At the calls of ‘Encore! Encore!’
from the onlookers, I raised my hand in a one-finger
salute.
We all lay together for awhile in the mellow glow of the
fireplace, and candles, letting the evenings fulfillment
blanket us while the storm played around the night.
Eventually we roused for a late night coffee, then
Heather, Janine, Darryl, Hamlet and Xanth headed
upstairs to bed. I was too wired from the coffee, so I
said I would join them after I had put a few thoughts to
paper.
Well, the rain has stopped, and the storm seems to be
spent. I can hardly keep my eyes open, so I’ll drop this
in the batch upload queue and crash. It’s 4:00am Sunday
morning. I wonder what the day holds.