A Promising Youth Ch. 02

"Okay, Sheil, you're right. This is definitely a trophy cock. You know what that means - I've got to see it."

By now I was in a state. I was completely aroused, the head of my cock sticking out the top of my slacks but covered by the shirttail Sheila had pulled out; my trousers and lower belly were sticky with precum; I was panting lightly and my body was on fire, sweating profusely. Moreover, I was experiencing a very weird emotion: here I was involved in a sexual situation and, yet, not involved. Marilyn had not once addressed me; everything she was doing with me came after getting permission from Sheila, as though I were just an object, a toy of Sheila's that Marilyn was asking to play with for a while. I had no say in the matter. I turned toward Sheila to try to read my situation in her face.

"Do what she wants, Paul," Sheila said seriously. "Marilyn's my best friend. What's mine is hers. Stand up, face Marilyn and drop trow. Be sure to hold your shirt and jacket up with both hands, so she can have a clear view."

For a brief second of blank astonishment I just sat there, looking into Sheila's face. Seeing no rescue, I at last stood up and turned toward Marilyn. I finished pulling my shirt out of my pants and, awkwardly holding shirt, jacket and tie bunched under one arm, used my hands to unbuckle my belt. I could see the tip of my swollen cock poking out above the waist-band. Usually I was so damn proud of that large piece of meat! But now I was embarrassed. I felt shame at being asked to do something so utterly devoid of camaraderie, of sharing, like a freak in a sideshow exposing his deformity before a crowd chomping popcorn and pointing and laughing, like being dared to do something that will make you look ridiculous. And I felt humiliated at being ordered to do these things by women I still really didn't know, strangers practically. The avidity of their expressions, the naked lust that shone forth actually frightened me. What had I gotten myself into? How far would this go? I had, even at my young age, heard some pretty weird stories!

Still, worse, much worse, would it be to cut and run. And, yes, there was still some pride to be found in the fact that it was my cock they wanted to see. And, curiously, I was drawn into the scene through my fascination with the expressions on the faces of Sheila and Marilyn. That what I had to show could arouse this much intensity, eagerness, in women whom I had formerly known only as cool, sophisticated, unapproachable ladies! I unbuttoned my pants, ran a finger down the length of my cock and back up. The faces of both women were now flushed, their mouths slightly open and their breathing heavy; Marilyn's tongue protruded slightly from her mouth - this was one lost bitch!!

I unzipped my pants. My cock sprang forward, straight toward Marilyn's face and stood wavering slightly in the air, my balls tucked up tightly beneath it. I gave my hips a shake and my slacks fell to my ankles. After a few minutes' staring, her hands unconsciously clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing, Marilyn tore her eyes away from the sight and looked up into my face. Her expression was cold yet inquisitive, like a cat watching a bird with a broken wing flopping about. But then, in an instant, it changed; she raised a hand to cover her mouth and snickered behind it, merriment flashing from her eyes: Young man, why are you standing in front of me with your shirt and jacket bunched up above your waist and your trousers down around your ankles? You look ridiculous.

When Marilyn took her hand away from her face, she turned to Sheila. "Well, I will say, that's a decent-looking pogo stick your young man's got there and, judging from the slimy stuff dribbling out of the end, he's just about ready to shoot his load. But, still, have you ever seen a man in a more ludicrous position? Some stud! He looks like a little boy waiting to get spanked. Hmmm, that gives me an -"

"Not so fast, Marilyn. Paul is my friend, don't forget. You find someone else to play your games with."

"Okay, okay. Anyway, I'm thirsty. Tell him to get us another drink."

"Alright. Paul, would you mind?"

I leaned forward to untie my shoes.

"No!" Marilyn snapped. "Just the way he is, Sheila. I want to watch him hobble over there with his pants around his ankles and his shirt and jacket held up so I can see his cute little butt."

I looked at Sheila. Her eyes were hard. She sighed deeply, as though exasperated, and jerked her head toward the liquor cart. I waited a beat and then, seeing no reprieve, shuffled out from behind the coffee table and made my way to the cart, my legs swish-swish-swishing in my trousers as I went. Behind me Marilyn suddenly burst out laughing.

"There, behind closed doors, in the privacy of the home, is the reality of the macho male! A lost little boy, his trousers down around his ankles, with a stiff dick, looking for something to poke it into." And this time Sheila joined in the laughter.

My face burned with embarrassment. I did feel like a little boy, with his pants down for a whipping. And I was wearing a suit, a man's proper dress.

When I had returned and delivered the drinks, I prepared to sit down.

"Wait!" Marilyn commanded. "Tell him to remain standing where he is. I haven't finished my inspection yet."

By this time I knew better than to hope for relief from Sheila. I did as ordered.

"Okay, Sheil, I know I can't have everything, but I can play a little, can't I?" And, without waiting for a reply, Marilyn reached out and grabbed my cock, yanked it down and tried to force it back between my legs. On a pain scale of one to ten, this was probably a four, but it was so sudden and sharp that I gasped and my knees buckled. While I was still recovering my balance, Marilyn let go and slapped the piece of swinging meat, back and forth, hard, three or four times. It was a sweet and painful sensation I could never have imagined. I would have jumped back but the coffee table was behind me. Shocked and scared, I looked at Marilyn. Her expression was a mixture of gloating (as at someone else's discomfort) and, again, that quizzical wonder: How do you like that, my pretty?

"Okay, Marilyn! That's enough!" Sheila's voice was sharp. "You forget he's young. Paul's not one of those sex perverts you can play your twisted games with; he's a real person."

"Well, Sheil, you don't know 'til you try. Maybe he's one just waiting to be discovered, who knows?"

"Yeah, right."

"Well, there's one way to find out. Let me have one more go at it, and then I'll quit. . . . You might be surprised."

Knowing I had no vote, and curiously unable to direct myself, I turned again to Sheila, awaiting her response. Was it really just moments ago that I had thought to find in her a refuge? Now I knew she was utterly willing to see me used in any way imaginable. I felt very alone and yet so aroused and excited that I was unable to move. Sheila was looking down at the floor, drumming the fingers of one hand on her thigh. Finally, she looked up at me and smiled tenderly.

"Paul, you've been just wonderful these last few minutes. You're so patient and sweet. But Marilyn is my best friend. If we give her a chance to play just a bit more, that will be the end of it. . . . Are you game, my sweet?" She was practically cooing, and had leaned forward to stroke my arm.

I was being abandoned and I knew it. Suddenly something inside me gave way, all resilience, all pride, what was left of my will evaporated; I was just an empty shell.

"Okay, Sheila. Sure. Whatever you want."

"Thank you, Paul. Maybe you should just go ahead and finish taking off your clothes."

IV

When I was completely naked, standing in front of the couch between the two fully-dressed women, my rock-hard pole jutting out in front of me, Marilyn grabbed it and brought her mouth close to the tip. "Hey, Sheila," she said, talking at my cock as though into an old-fasioned telephone, "I'm thirsty again. Can I have another drink?" She let go of my rod and Sheila grabbed it, spoke into it, "Okay, Lyn, coming right up." She let go of the cock and settled back on the couch.

"Would you do the honors again, Paul? Please?"

Without a word I turned and moved toward the drinks cart.

"Damn!! He does have a cute little ass, Sheila. A real pile-driver! And you're right - that cock really is something to behold. I bet he could fuck your brains out with it. Tell me, did he get all flustered the other day when you started talking dirty to him?"

"Not flustered, but definitely embarrassed. His face turned red and he seemed to get dizzy, nearly fell off the stand and, of course, his cock started getting hard, almost poking its way out of his briefs. I could hardly keep from laughing."

So that was the real Sheila.

By now I had gotten to a place where I felt as though they were talking about someone else; a nearly total dissociation. I returned to the couch with the drinks.

"Thanks, honey," Sheila said and, carefully balancing her drink, reached up, grabbed my upper arm and pulled my face down to kiss. "You're the best."

I returned to my place, standing between the women.

"Tell him to clasp his hands behind his head," said Marilyn. I had given up expecting her ever to speak to me directly. "And then I want him to move his hips back and forth like he's fucking the air."

"Paul, honey," cooed Sheila. "Come on. Give her a good show. For me."

I clasped my hands behind my head, as ordered, and began a back and forth pumping motion with my pelvis. My dick swung in a tight arc from side to side as it moved back and forth; my balls had loosened and were swinging around.

"Faster!", snapped Marilyn. I went faster, needing no word from Sheila. "Faster!", Marilyn croaked hoarsely. She was definitely panting now. "Faster!" Now my balls were swinging every which way, slapping against my thighs and threatening to fly off altogether. My breath was coming in short gasps. My cock stood rigidly before me, my pelvis thrusting forward then back, ever faster, here in this big, luxurious home, before two beautiful, sexy women, performing an obscenity for their pleasure.

"Okay, that's enough."

"You can stop now, Paul," Sheila murmured.

"Tell him to turn around and lean down on the coffee table, spread his legs and stick his ass out."

By now I had completely lost sight of what I had thought would be the day's events. My suit lay in a rumpled heap on the floor and, along with it, my idea of Sheila as friend. I was among strangers, a little frightened, and more aroused than I'd ever been in my life (which wasn't saying a whole lot) - definitely not in control of anything.

"Okay, Paul?" from Sheila. I turned and assumed the position, looking back under my left arm. My dick was nearly poking me in the stomach and my balls were swinging freely between my legs. Behind me, Marilyn leaned forward, her right middle finger held tight to her palm by her thumb. An inch from my right testicle, she released the finger. It snapped into my nut with some force. Quickly, she repeated the process seven or eight times. My testicles began to ache. For good measure, she reached in and squeezed each one, quite hard, two or three times. I groaned. Marilyn stopped and sat back. I waited for the command to stand up. It didn't come.

Finally, I felt my ass being gently stroked, the hand also running up and down the inside of my thighs and then back onto my cheeks. Then it slipped into my crack, sliding lightly, almost tickling, up and down, up and down until, suddenly, a finger was poked painfully past my sphincter muscle and into my rectum. It fucked me in and out.

"Sheila, go get the spoon from the martini pitcher!"

A minute later the finger was removed and I could feel the cold glass spoon pushing at my anus. With a pop causing a slight spasm of pain it went in and slowly began fucking me, in and back, in and back, deeper and deeper with each thrust. Almost without realizing it, I found myself leaning forward as the spoon was withdrawn toward the entrance (or exit, I guess it really is) and then pushing back toward the invading spoon when, once more, it was thrust up my bowels. I was actually fucking a spoon with my ass!

"I knew it," muttered Marilyn. "Sheila, come around front and hold his hands down. Do it! I don't want him moving at all. Besides, I want you to see something." Sheila came around, got on her knees and pinned my wrists firmly to the coffee table.

All the while the play with my testicles and ass had been going on, I could feel the pressure building and building in my cock. Now, as I was fucking, and being fucked by, the spoon, and quite without anyone or thing touching my cock, I could feel the pressure building to climax. My whole mid-region, front and back, was afire with sex. I wanted the spoon to come and go faster; I needed it to come and go faster, further, deeper, deeper. I loved being fucked with a spoon - I who had barely fucked anyone in my life, who was still essentially a virgin! Well, I was definitely not a virgin any longer - at least in one sense. I had never imagined losing that cherry! More! Deeper! Faster!

And then, an instant before I came, the spoon was withdrawn. Nobody moved or spoke. Minutes ticked by. Slowly the pressure in my groin began to subside. I waited for what was to come next, knowing that this thing wasn't yet finished.

Sure enough - whack!! Something whipped my ass with massive force! Whack! Whack, whack!! Like a belt. Whack, whack, whack! The pain surged straight through my buttocks, hot, stinging, and very, very sexual. All at once I was back to maximum pressure for release from my cock. It needed to come! Needed to!! Needed to!! My ass was past sore now, nearly numb, and the strokes kept coming, harder and harder. Then, an instant before I came, the belt (or whatever) whistled with force up between my legs and smashed against my balls, and again, and again! That did it. Able to contain itself no longer, the jizm shot from my over-filled cock, the first spurts splashing Sheila's face as she leaned in between my arms to see what was going on. I was past heavy-breathing now, panting from deep within my chest. My entire body was racked with spasms as the belt smashed again and again against my ass and balls. Sperm dripped off Sheila's chin and puddled on the coffee table until, finally, the ejaculation subsided to a leakage of small drops and the belt stopped its work.

Behind me, I could hear heavy breathing. I ducked my head under my arm and looked back. Marilyn's face was red with her exertion and she, too, was panting from deep within her chest. Her eyes were glazed, staring, unfocused. She held a belt in one hand, my belt!, from my own pants!

I turned back to look at Sheila, who still hadn't moved. Incredibly she was licking my cum off her face and using one hand to push what her tongue couldn't reach into her mouth! So it was true! She really did like to drink cum! I couldn't believe it. She smiled at me, her face radiant, her eyes sparkling and, right at that moment, I made a life-altering decision: sex was the most wonderful thing imaginable and I would never get enough of it!

By now Sheila had finished cleaning herself and sat back. Marilyn came around to stand next to her.

"See? I told you when you called me the other day. We have the perfect sex toy on our hands. With Mr. Limp Dick here the sky's the limit."

END OF PART TWO