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Once or twice a
week, Melannie let me go out on my own. It was usually in the early
evening, so that I'd have time to follow my nose ... she liked the thought
that something odd and funky would happen to me, something I could tell her
about while I was helping her with her weight training in the mornings when
nobody was around, something to get her into the mood to strap on a big one
and proceed to fuck me silly.
I would cruise the
taverns and bars of the small river town casually, staring at the
interactions and at the varieties of flirtational oddness that caught my eye
-- I was rarely disappointed. After a long day of being the Friendly Man at
Secrets, of kneeling down behind demanding big ladies and worshipping their
well-endowed hindquarters, it was a real pleasure to gaze upon women who did
not know my special talent, women who thought of me only as an unattached
male who was afflicted with the usual horny male proclivities.
It was truly
exquisite to be in normal male drag, just another stiff dick hoping to have
some anonymous woman take mercy on my rigid and utterly immoral condition.
They didn't have to know I'd spent the greater part of the early afternoon
hours with my nose buried up in the ass cheeks of several variously squirmy
ladies who knew me only as the wiggly long tongue that burrowed so
willingly, so deeply, uninhibitedly and inexhaustibly ...
Rare though it was
on my off-day rounds, I'd occasionally spot a jewel, an unsuspecting female
of such extraordinary appeal that my fundamental instincts would become
inflamed. Usually, the unsuspecting female would be a married woman on a
momentary lark, out for a tipsy good time, a woman who did not expect to
meet a man of my worshipful nature. Valerie was one such lass.
I first noticed
Valerie at one of my favorite bars, Dillingers, a low dive that usually was
very quiet till after the hours of ten or so. I'd stop by on my off nights
right around seven, just looking at whatever there was to see that seemed
interesting.
Valerie was
obviously married. And obviously stopping by for a few drinks after a shift
at some local factory -- she wore jeans and a sweatshirt and seemed to be
entirely too jovial, as if the booze was goosing her spirits beyond the
norm. She and two other gals were shooting pool, but not seriously -- their
chatter was non-stop, and
the games they
shot took forever.
Valerie was short
and terrifically hung from the chest --she was so top-heavy her heavy
breasts shook and swayed with a gorgeous motion when she stroked her shots
on the pool table ... her bosoms were so full and pendulous they were
spellbindingly out of proportion to her short stature. My guess was that she
probably had two or three kids that she'd breastfed and that's why her tits
were large and hanging ... I wondered what her nipples were like, if they
had been suckled so much that they, too, were in a state of exaggerated
largesse ... I figured that they were probably no longer particularly
sensitive, that I would have to suck them a long time to get her aroused,
maybe even have to pinch and tug on them some to get her going. I was
ready, of course, for all of that.
She'd spread her
legs when she bent to the balls, and her thighs were thick and her hips were
wide. It was the usual thing with me -- I was always so much of a sucker
for the heavy gals and I just couldn't tear my eyes away, and finally, in
the worst kind of abject worship, I put my small change upon the rail.
Valerie's two companion gals sized me up as I placed my coins, both of them
also in jeans and sweatshirts. One of them was a dirty blond. The other
was a tallish Black gal.
I loved it when
strange women sized me up -- their glances were like subtle probes between
my legs and I would invariably start getting an erection. Valerie's friends
glanced with ill-concealed avidity at the swelling that distorted my
trousers. I stood off to the side awaiting my turn, leaning and letting my
swelling be apparent and obvious, yet not seeming, myself, to be aware it --
I wanted my arousal to appear to be something I did not know the women could
see. Such coyness invariably worked, simply because the women always saw
right thru me. Still, it was my great pleasure to pretend I didn't know
they were cutting glances at my growing interest. The more I pretended not
to be aware, the more the gals would leer. It was a game we all played, and
sometimes it paid off.
Valerie's friends
became gradually more and more beside themselves, staring openly at my
crotch while they chattered, yet they acted like I was not in on their
growing lust -- they made like they weren't really staring, getting louder
and laughing a lot. Of course, I saw right thru them as well. While I
stared at Valerie's enormous bosoms swaying, they leered at my growing
discomfort.
I was dressed for
the occasion. My slacks were were thin, snug, and of a soft material ...
they hugged my butt cheeks and frontal swell. When
the women finally finished their game, it was my turn to rack and I squatted
to lift the balls out from the end of the table. I spilled them into the
rack, then stood and bent forward over the table to tighten them before
lifting the rack off the triangle. I spread my legs as I bent to tighten
the rack and I could feel Valerie's friends eyeing my ass ... I knew my
slacks were just right against my heavy balls, highlighting them, and as I
bent over the table I could feel their eyes up under me and on my balls,
sizing them up and wanting to reach over and give them a bawdy squeeze. The
loudness of their laughter made the whole game so obvious ...
One of Valerie's
friends even emitted a low whistle while I was bent over and that was music
to my ears. The touch of their glances on the fabric that caressed my fat,
hanging testicles was so palpable a shiver ran down my spine. At any second
I expected to feel a hand groping me under my butt, but when I looked for
Valerie after I'd finished racking, she had gone over to the jukebox. I
stared over at her where she stood punching in the selections ... I couldn't
stop staring at how broad and inviting Valerie's ass was, till I noticed
someone else.
The other woman
was standing there also, bending over to scan the selections. She was
wearing a skirt that fell almost to her ankles, but there was no way of
concealing the broad power of her hips – she leaned at the jukebox with her
legs spread, just as mine had been, but it was the heft and spread of her
hips that drew my eye. Her hip cheeks were lusty loaves awaiting the test
of taste, and the way she was bent into the box made those cheeks thrust
out, high and full. My cock grew ever heavy and full as I fantasized giving
my lips to those generous charms. Almost without knowing what I was doing,
I found myself walking over to where she leaned, pulled by the gravity of
those enormous buttocks which stuck out behind her so that I had to edge
very carefully around them. I pretended to be looking for the chalk and I
brushed her hips lightly as I passed. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed
her look sharply around at me, then turn back to the jukebox.
My obsession with
enormous buttocks was making me careless, so that I had to mentally kick
myself, else I would be found out as the worshipful sap I was. I chalked my
cue tip carefully as Valerie swung into her break, hitting the balls
squarely and with a solid loud whack! that showed her athleticism. She
didn't make any balls off her break, but the power of her stroke was
undeniable.
"You go, girl!"
the Black gal called out.
The balls were
nicely spread around the table, but I was in no hurry and missed after
making one.
"Are you laying
down on me?" Valerie teased.
"Not yet," I
grinned. The gals hooted at this. Valerie got a look of serious intent on
her face as she bent to her shot. She held her posture longer than I
thought was necessary, so long that I figured she was teasing me back. Her
heavy breasts swayed hypnotically, just touching the green felt as she kept
slowly stroking. No one spoke, so that it seemed everyone else was also
entranced by her. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed even the woman in
the long skirt over at the jukebox had turned to stare. When Valerie
finally let the tip of her stick glide into the cueball, everyone exhaled. She made the shot, then made a couple more
before missing. And each time she lined up a subsequent shot, she continued
to take her time, teasing us all. When she finally stood up and backed away
from the table her nipples were prominent under her sweatshirt. But even
though my prick stayed hard, it was as if I'd just lost my audience.
Valerie was like an old time stripper who strutted her stuff with skillful
indirection. We stayed glued to her every deliberate move, each of us
excited by her in our own way.
Toward the end of
the game the cue ball was in a difficult place on
the table so that I had to lean to it awkwardly. To make it easier, I had
to lift my leg along the rail, standing on one foot. Once again my ass and
balls were on display, taking the attention back from Valerie. As deliberate
as she had been, I held my posture longer than necessary, slowly moving my
stick back and forth. Except for the music on the jukebox, the room grew
still and tense. I drew it out even longer, continuing the slow swing of my
stick and savoring the attention. Getting my audience back. When Valerie
took the butt end of her cue stick and wedged it
roughly up under my ass against my balls, it was with just enough force to
cause me real pain.
Startled, I jumped
back off the rail, reflexively clutching at the pain, making it seem that
the hurt was greater than it was. Truth be known, it hurt a lot, what with
my balls already being in such a swollen condition, but not as much as I
made it seem. The gals were laughing and hooting loudly, but Valerie rushed
up to me with a look of concern that was also fake.
"Oh, I'm so sorry
... I was just kidding around!" she said, "Does it hurt so much?"
I looked into her
eyes, but they were not sympathetic. There was mischief mingled with a
sense of triumphant cruelty flickering deeply in those married woman eyes.
She had imbibed just enough merry booze to reveal the edgy unbridled side of
herself. Disguising my true hurt, I painted a look of barely controlled
alarm and discomfort upon my face, pretending to be brave.
"It's ok," I
managed, "just give me a second."
"Take all the time
you need, honey ... I can wait," she said. Cruel, fat, married bitch. She
walked over and stood by her pals. I tried to walk it off, passing the gal
in the long skirt, who had taken a seat by the jukebox. She looked at me
candidly, staring at my hand that was still cupped protectively at my
crotch. When her eyes lifted, there was definite interest, but tinged with
amusement.
"That wasn't very
nice of her," the woman in the long skirt said. She crossed her legs then,
hiking her hemline high enough that I could at least see her calves. "Maybe
you should give it a rest for awhile. Concede the game and take a seat.
Give yourself a break."
I stared at her,
considering her advice, well aware that she was hitting on me. I put up my
cue, telling Valerie, "I think I'm overmatched," and then I walked over to
the bar and carefully swung onto a barstool. My testicles still smarted, so
I sat gingerly on the edge of the stool with my legs widespread. I wondered
more about the gal in the long skirt than about Valerie, and then, still
laughing loudly, the three gals walked out of the bar. As Valerie passed,
she mocked me: "I truly am sorry, sweetie, but you really left yourself open
for that one! Such a lovely butt you have. How could I resist? Maybe you
should try keeping both feet on the floor next time!" In my wounded pride,
I silently cursed her on her way, but in my abject and hungry libido, I
silently cried out for her to stay.
I nursed my beer
and stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The humiliation I
felt was not the kind that gave me secret pleasure. I just felt crummy and
sad. I ordered another and was almost done with it when the barmaid,
Jolene, sat yet a third one in front of me. Jolene was a good gal who knew
I worked as the Friendly Man over at Secrets. "It's from the lady," she
said, nodding back at the woman in the chair with the long skirt. "I didn't
see what happened, but she said you were taken advantage of ... she wanted
you to know we're not all such bad asses."
I looked back,
prepared to raise my bottle in thank you, but the woman in the chair was not
looking my way. I walked back to the mens room, still hoping to catch her
eye, but still she was looking the other way. I wondered if she was
ignoring me, but then out of the corner of my eye I saw that her long skirt
had risen higher, up to her kneecaps now.
I went into a
stall in the mens room and dropped my pants and briefs, checking to see if
Valerie's rough nudge had left a mark. Tenderly lifting my sac, I could see
no evidence of the unkind act. Ever since they'd hung me on their wall at
the Playhouse with the vibrating butt plug up my ass so that they could milk
my cum over and over again, my testicles had been swollen, generating sperm
in unprecedented amounts. The sperm kept backing up in me, causing my balls
to swell up and stay that way. I cupped each
heavy testicle in turn and they they both seemed just as full and ready as
they had ever been, just as throbbing primed to unload as ever.
I was surprised to
note that my cock was also still semi-aroused, and I smiled to myself at
that, aware that for me pain and humiliation were two-sided -- the more I
considered it, the more it all seemed not such a bad thing after all. When
I emerged from the john, my spirits were back and all feelings of having
been treated poorly had passed. I decided that the only really bad thing
that had happened was that I hadn't been prepared, that I was just too
surprised to get off on Valerie's nasty wee deed when it happened ... had I
known what was coming, I'd probably have lifted higher and spread wider, and
even stayed with my posture awhile longer after the hit, inviting another!
As I came out of
the john, I looked to the long-skirted gal, but she was nowhere to be seen.
I asked Jolene if she'd gone and learned that she had indeed left the bar.
But Jolene told me the gal's name was Marlene. She also said she let
Marlene know I worked the afternoon shift at Secrets. I winked at Jolene,
gave her figure an appreciative once over, and told her I owed her one.
"One what?" Jolene
laughed. "Just what is it a Friendly Man does to earn his keep over at
Secrets?"
"I just try to pay
attention to the bottom line," I replied. "Melannie appreciates my
attention to the basics." Again, I let my eyes rove down over Jolene's
full-figured abundance. "You should stop by sometime – my treat!" I was
pretty sure Jolene had a perfectly accurate notion of my usefulness to the
Secrets agenda, and I was quite willing to give her a free demonstration.
"Whatever... "
Jolene offered, but I noted the edgy glint in her eyes. To bring out a
woman's deeply suppressed will to dominance was my mission in life, the low
rung on the sexual/social ladder that I occupied with such devotion. That
edgy look that crept into Jolene's eyes was the confirmation of my
usefulness to the inhibited. They all needed a Friendly Man to abase and
abuse, one who could return their avid contempt with fervent adoration,
always asking for more, begging for more, giving it up enthusiastically. I
was a bar star of the lowest aspirations. Hard to beat. Easy to beat. A
sap.
I left Jolene a
generous tip and savored the distinct possibility that I might soon be
seeing Marlene and those enormous hips of hers again. I vowed inwardly to
stay well prepared for that eventuality. No more rough surprises from the
rear that caught me so off guard. Or at least none that I couldn't get off
on and ask for more of.
When I told the
tale to Melannie the following morning, she seemed strangely indignant. She
was nude on her back on the weights bench and I was standing near her head,
spotting her to make sure she didn't have an accident. Melannie was
sweating profusely, the juices making her body shine.
"Squat little
bitch with big titties, eh? If I see her, I'll cut one off and feed it to
her, the cunt!"
I was bare-chested
and wearing gym shorts with no jock strap, the way Melannie liked me when I
assisted her in her training ... she liked to stare up under my shorts at my
privates while she worked out. Not that Melannie was necessarily a cock
lover, far be it -- she just liked to see if I was getting aroused.
Whenever my dick would start to get hard, she'd start telling me how she was
going to fuck my ass when she got done with her lifting. It just made her
exercise all the more vigorously, actually, and the more vigorously Melannie
worked out, the harder I became. I liked the sound of her hard breathing,
and I liked it when she sweated a lot. Oftentimes, I'd get to lap her out
when she finished, and the wetness was tart and savory. A distinct treat.
"I got a new
strap-on for you, thickest one I ever found, about a foot long," she panted
as she hefted the weights. "When my day gal opens up, she's gonna wonder
why you're so bowlegged today ... knowing her, she'll probably be all
sympathetic ... I bet you really liked feeling the butt end of that cue
socking your balls, eh?"
Blushing, I looked
down at her and wanted to start eating her out right then, while the sweat
was still flowing and her skin was still hot with her efforts. My ass was
hungry for the thick new strap-on as well, and I was having flashbacks of
being up on the rail at Dillinger's, with Valerie jamming the butt end of
her cue into me. I started breathing shallowly and Melannie noticed.
"Hotter'n a
pistol, balls like grapefruits, cock stretched and bobbing... I'd say my
Friendly Man's ready for some deep butt fucking," she growled, rising from
the bench. She strode over to her desk and bent over it, leaning across it
to a drawer that she opened and reached into. Bent over the desk that way,
her strong cheeks were high and outthrust and I quickly knelt behind her,
opening my jaws wide and pressing my tongue up into the sweaty canyon
between them. I was tasting the rivulets of sweat running down into the
crack of her ass when Melannie suddenly pushed back vigorously and I got
sent sprawling. She turned around, in her hand the fierce new strap-on ...
I looked up in awe. It was indeed longer and thicker than any of the others
she'd used in me.
She held its
apple-headed tip down against my lips, forcing me to suck. I knew that the
wetter I got it, the easier it would slide into me, so I opened wide and
slicked the thing thoroughly. She then belted it in place around her waist,
adjusting its straps so it rode down against her cunt, so that when she
fucked me its specially contoured backside would rub against her clit. I
got to my feet and stepped quickly out my gym shorts and went over to the
bench, spreading myself, lowering my face and lips to the still-wet bench
and raising my buttocks high. I sniffed and licked at Melannie's
sweat-soaked bench as the big tool worked its way relentlessly deeper into
my bowels. She grabbed hold of my sides for better leverage and the thing
sank wholly up into my ass. Melannie panted and cursed, building up a
steady deep rhythm that soon had me panting as well. We were both moaning
as Melannie's strokes gained in strength -- she was frigging her cunt with
its motion while she fucked my brains out, and tears fell from my eyes,
mingling with Melannie's own sweat already on the bench. I looked back
under my own thighs as Melannie's vigor pounded me relentlessly and I
watched as my heavy balls swung crazily beneath the power of her long,
merciless strokes.
After the long
reaming, Melannie pulled the thing out and it gave an audible pop! as it
emerged. She spun me onto my back onto the wet bench and she swung a leg
over and squatted her sweaty ass upon my face. My tongue disappeared up
into the butter and jam of her hungry anus and when she tensed her
sphincter I was caught snug and tight. She tightened even more and then
began lifting, pulling on my tongue so that my head was pulled upwards off
the bench. She began a series of lifts and lowers, clenching on my tongue,
holding my tongue up inside her ass, banging my head down onto the bench
then pulling it up again, over and over again as she went into a series of
butthole orgasms. I loved to feel the spasming of her rectum as it enclosed
my tongue when those orgasms came on. I felt well used and well tended, but
then she suddenly let her sphincter relax completely so that my tongue
slipped easily out of her. I licked around my lips and left my tongue
hanging there. My face was sloppy with the flows of Melannie's many juices.
Melannie never
permitted me to touch myself to get off so I laid breathlessly on the bench
while she showered. My balls had commenced to throb in that familiar achy
way as I listened to her shower. When she came out all sopping wet she
squatted her now immaculate cunt directly onto my mouth. I knew what was
coming and opened wide to drink from her pussy lips. Her piss was hot and
sprayed down my throat in a pressurized stream. I didn't waste a drop, and
Melannie laughed delightedly when she lifted off my face. She called her
piss my pertif, my reward, and in truth her golden nectar never failed to
intoxicate and invigorate me.
"Better get your
own shower now, bub ... the day girl's due any minute."
After I'd
showered, I stood at one mirror, looking at Melannie out in the bar at the
cash register. I adored her, tall and strong and bawdy and demanding woman
that she was. What an honor to be allowed to receive and attend such a
lady. I was one lucky guy, I decided.
The day girl was
in the ladies room so I walked over to that mirror and watched her while I
slowly dried off. I was in no hurry. The blue ache in my groin was very
strong as I watched her apply her make-up. It was a sensation borne of
pent-up frustration, a sign of my denial and of my devotion. I relished the
pain radiating from my nuts, for yes, it was the very proof of my useful
submission to my betters, and it made me let my tongue press against the
glass. Unbeknownst to the day girl, I was just inches away, worshipping her
already.
All I lacked in
that moment of covert voyeurism and worship was some third woman with whip
in hand, whaling and flogging away at my easily available ass. And my
willing asshole involuntarily tensed at that rich prospect. Nothing like a
good beating to firm up a loosened bung, to bring back the resistant,
defensive pucker. All in good time, I knew. My day had just begun and I was
as happy as any man alive.
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