Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 02

"Look at your face, Holly!" Angelique screamed with joy.

Both Megan and I had looked at each other with utter astonishment as Delvin's joy juice sailed off into the void. I had to admit that my look of surprise even amused me.

"God, that's so funny!" Megan laughed. "Look at how far it went!"

We watched as several more shots were fired off, and then we were treated to the triple offering of sperm, which had turned Brittany's face into gooey, white mess. Upon seeing her face receive multiple cumshots in slow motion, Brittany fell on the floor, laughing.

"I can't believe I did that!" she screamed.

"I can't believewedid that!" I said, unable to take my eyes of the spectacle.

I watched my hands traverse the length of Delvin's 10-inch tool, the sperm running down the shaft and spilling over onto my hands and then Megan's, as she and I stroked him furiously in our attempt to relieve him of every drop of his milky-white cream. After it was over, I had counted over one dozen separate ejaculations. It was extraordinary to say the least.

"Have you guys had breakfast yet?" I asked as the tape ended.

"Are you kidding?" Angelique said. "We had to see this first. Isn't it amazing?"

She had a wild look in her eyes for a moment, as if she had other plans for this erotic masterpiece of ours.

"We made our own CFNM video," I said with mock pride. "Now put that tape away before your mother finds out what we've done."

"Don't worry," she replied. "She'll never see it."

Of course, I couldn't tell my cousin that her mother would have probably enjoyed our little attempt at homemade erotica, but whether she would have approved of our brief foray into the porn business, despite her hedonism, was another matter.

"Take it out of the VCR and hide it," I said adamantly. "My parents are flying in tonight. It's the last thing I want them to see."

Angelique reluctantly did as I asked and removed the cassette from the machine. We then went back to the recreation room and watched as she placed the tape in a box with her collection of other assorted pornography.

"Okay, Holly? You happy now?" my cousin said as she closed the closet door containing our recent collective effort.

"Yes," I said. "Now can we all go and get some breakfast? I'm starved."

With the arrival of my parents that evening, and the subsequent departure of Brittany and Megan, our wildly erotic adventures came to an abrupt halt. Lenore, Estelle, and Justine left the day after my parent's arrival, and my aunt Phoebe once more adopted the persona of the responsible parent, all for the sake of my mother. I noticed that the two books Lenore had given to my aunt had been discreetly removed from their place of prominence on the bookshelf of my aunt's study, and any and all traces of anything remotely connected to my aunt's wanton lifestyle had mysteriously vanished.

The next two weeks were spent visiting various cultural spots and taking almost daily cruises on my aunt's yacht. I got to spend a lot of time with her during this period and marveled at her chameleon-like ability to adapt her personality to suit any occasion. No one, not even me, would have guessed that underneath that exuberant and proud demeanor lurked the heart of a formidable dominatrix, still in the making, and awaiting only one short year in which to emerge from her chrysalis a new and complete entity, like Athena who sprang fully formed from the head of Zeus.

All during my parent's stay, Angelique and I continued to sleep in the recreation room, and we spent many evenings looking at adult Web sites—especially those that were either CFNM of femdom-related. It was eerie to see how much like her mother she really was, and that the two of them had no idea of their incredibly similar sexual natures. I wanted desperately to tell her about the Sisterhood and all that I had witnessed that day in her mother's study, but I was too afraid to confess my secret for reasons I have stated earlier. In any case, Angelique had made me aware of an entirely new erotic world that I had no idea existed, and my aunt had done the same, albeit without her knowledge. Seeing Delvin's wild cumshot for the millionth time in slow motion still made me laugh, and the shocked look on Brittany's face as she received her bukake-like tribute of sperm made me laugh even more. By the time my visit had ended, I felt like I had made the shift from novice to expert in the realm of sexual matters, and I had Angelique and my aunt to thank for it.

On the day my parents and I were to leave for home, I brought up the issue of Delvin to my cousin. The fact that she had not mentioned a word about him—outside of the comments she offered while watching the tape—made me curious as to why she had chosen to put him out of her mind after seeming to be so infatuated with him.

"He was the one who ended it," she said in a distinctly cold tone of voice as we stood outside the front entrance of the house waiting for Jake to pull up in the limousine.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because he wanted to fuck me and I wouldn't let him."

"When did this happen?"

"When you, Megan, and Brittany were in the bathroom cleaning up. I told him there was no way I was going to fuck anybody untilIwas ready."

"So, he ended it, just like that?"

"Yup. Just like that."

I noticed a glint of contempt in her otherwise placid demeanor.

"All men are shit heads, Holly," she resumed. "All they want to do is get off."

Judging by what I had seen during these eventful weeks, I knew that half of what she said was true: guys did love to "get off," as he put it. But I had a hard time accepting thatallmen were jerks.

"Believe me, they are," she assured me. "Even my father keeps a mistress."

This news startled me, as I always believed my uncle to be entirely devoted to my aunt.

"Are you kidding?"

"Would I kid about something like that?" she answered with scorn. "My mother just found out about it yesterday through one of her friends back in Paris. Keep your mouth shut about it because she doesn't know I know."

"How did you find out?"

"I overheard her on the phone. She was up crying half the night."

"I'm sorry, Angelique," I said as I gave her a gentle hug.

"Just remember what I said. All guys are shit heads."

My mother and father, along with my aunt who was teary-eyed from saying goodbye, or from her knowledge of her husband's duplicity, or both, came out of the front door just then and said their final farewells. My mother gave no indication to me that she had learned of my aunt's misfortune, but I could tell she knew something was wrong by the way she kept pressing my aunt for information. When Jake pulled up a few moments later, my mother reluctantly got into the limousine looking troubled, but none the wiser about my aunt's situation. After kissing my aunt and my cousin goodbye, I followed her into the car. My dad took the front seat next to Jake, striking up a conversation with him as soon as we began to drive away.

I waved to Angelique and my aunt from the rear of the car, noticing how small and forlorn they appeared as the limousine put more distance between us. At last, the beautiful estate by the sea became a tiny speck on the horizon as we sped toward the airport. At one point my mother asked me if I knew why my aunt had seemed so unhappy. Remembering my promise to Angelique, I merely shook my head and told her that her sadness was due to our departure and nothing more. I don't think she accepted my flimsy explanation, but she didn't force the issue, sensing that I, too, was feeling quite downhearted.

On the plane ride home my thoughts once more centered upon the events that occurred in my aunt's study only a short three weeks earlier, and the enigmatic name that kept popping up in my head over and over:Masturbatorium. Lenore had stressed that my aunt's introduction to this mysterious place was to be kept a surprise, and strictly secret. And I recalled that Estelle had referred to it as "really something to experience." Little did I know that, barely a year later, I would be stepping foot into this exclusive world of the Sisterhood, and that my newly transfigured aunt and her daughter would be serving as its commander-in-chief and first lieutenant, respectively, commandeering the helm of a vast network of subterranean empires all predicated upon, and dedicated to, the idea of female supremacy.

************

My first year at UCLA went by quickly. I applied myself assiduously to my studies and earned a 3.9 grade point average, which earned me a tap on the shoulder from the head of the English department to take over helm of the school newspaper from a departing senior. I enjoyed my new role as editor and made many new friends, but because of my academic schedule, I had little time for boys. The few that I dated tried to push intercourse upon me early on, and I wound up jettisoning them out the proverbial window. Sometimes I wrote about my dating experiences in the school paper, which earned me much praise from my teachers and classmates, who enjoyed my satirical and iconoclastic writing style. And sometimes I wrote about more serious issues that pointed out the many inconsistencies in the American sociopolitical system, forcing me into debates with other people in which I had to scramble to defend my position. In time I learned to steer clear of these issues and concentrate on humor, as it brought me—and my readers—far greater enjoyment.

I was already enjoying the first few days of my summer vacation when my mother handed me a letter from my aunt Phoebe. For the past six months my aunt's communication with us had been sporadic. By this time my parents had learned about her marital problems, but it did not explain why my aunt's phone calls had come few and far between. When my mother questioned my aunt about this, she refused to go into particulars, but did hint that her new business enterprise was consuming much of her time. What this new enterprise was, she did not say.

The letter was an invitation extended to me, and me alone, to visit with my aunt and Angelique at their estate on the outskirts of Paris for the duration of my summer vacation. My aunt would pay all expenses for the trip, and I could leave any time I wished. Although my parents were puzzled as to why they were excluded from this generous offer, they graciously consented to let me go, considering it a reward for my recent scholastic achievements.

I had spoken to my aunt and Angelique only a handful of times during the past year, and I missed the repartee we enjoyed when they were living in San Diego. The thought of going to Paris got me all excited—more so because I was going to spend time with my aunt, rather than anything the city itself had to offer. I had seen Paris many times and, although beautiful, I found other European cites like Rome and Vienna more to my taste.

When my mother called my aunt to tell her I was coming, she was thrilled. I spoke with my aunt and Angelique and both of them seemed anxious to see me, though they seemed a bit evasive through their joy. It was arranged that I should depart LA in two days and that Angelique and Jake would meet me at the airport when I arrived in Paris. My aunt also made an unusual request. She told me to pack several bottles of my favorite hand cream, as the weather was uncommonly dry in Paris this summer.

On the appointed day, my mother and father drove me to the airport and, after a tearful goodbye, I boarded the plane. Sitting to my right were a boy and a girl around my own age, apparently very much in love and conversing solely in French. Several hours into the flight the two of them were hard at work fondling each other, and at one point I saw her hand disappear down the front of his jeans.

After dinner was served, I decided to do some writing in my journal, and after about an hour I began to doze off. I slept for several hours, and when I woke up it was well past 1:00 AM. Looking around, I noticed that most of the passengers were asleep, including the two lovebirds to my right. I shut my eyes and went back to sleep.

My sleep was erratic, and several times I thought I heard laughter creeping into my head. I opened my eyes to discover the source of the interference and found that the two lovers had placed a blanket over their laps and were giggling softly. In the middle of the blanket was a distinct lump that rose and fell in time to the motions of the girl's left arm, which was moving back and forth under it. I knew immediately what she was doing, and Brittany's high-altitude blowjob story came vividly back to mind as I watched her nonchalantly fist him.

I was occupying the window seat with the boy seated next to me, so I had to pretend that I was still asleep for fear of startling them. She was a pretty girl; very petite, with short blonde hair and enormous blue eyes. And he looked like he could pass for her male counterpart, with the exception of his darker hair. Her entire body swayed back and forth as her hand performed its duty under the blanket, and at times she would look underneath the protective covering to see the results of her work. On one occasion, she raised the blanket up high and I was treated to a magnificent view of his very large penis, its tip wet with pre-cum.

The girl kept working on him for several more minutes, but it was clear that her hand was growing tired. It was at this point that she caught me looking at them, but instead of panicking, she just smiled at me and continued as if nothing was amiss. By this time her boyfriend's eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, and it was obvious he was going to cum very soon.

And then she did a most remarkable thing. She reached over with her right hand and took my hand in hers, inviting me to take over masturbating her boyfriend's cock. I couldn't believe that she could be so forward about the whole thing as to allow a total stranger access to her lover's genitals, but as strange as it may seem, I allowed her to guide my hand onto his swollen prick, where I began employing the same hand motions on him that I had used a year earlier on Delvin's ample equipment. The truth is that I was extremely turned on by her handjob and was looking forward to seeing him cum. During the entire time his eyes had been closed. But now, feeling a new hand upon him, he sighed lightly and gave me a most appreciative look as his girlfriend now rearranged the blanket so that I could see his 8-inch cock in all its tumescent glory.

She said something to him in French, and a moment later he pulled both his pants and underwear down to his ankles, leaving his cock and balls completely at our disposal. I found myself surrendering to the highly erotic sensations of once again being in control of a man, and this time I couldn't blame it on the influence of marijuana.

As my hand glided up and down effortlessly over his fat pole, his girlfriend laid her head in his lap and began licking the base of his shaft, every now and then giving his huge balls a few light tugs with her fingers. A few times she pulled my hand away and absorbed his cock into her mouth, looking straight at me with her intense blue eyes, proud of her ability to deep-throat such a big penis.

Suddenly, I heard a faint stirring coming from directly behind me, and the sound of women's voices giggling softly. I turned around to find two older women, probably in their mid to late thirties, watching the whole thing from between the spaces in the chairs. They muttered something in French that sounded to me like a slur, judging from their tone of voice, and the girl looked at me and smiled, indicating with a shake of her head that I shouldn't pay the women any mind. She once again took my hand and I got back to the task of jerking off her boyfriend, who now seemed about ready to explode.

I used a firm grip on him, paying close attention to the sensitive area just under the glans, as I knew this would provoke an intense cumshot. His cock, still wet from the girl's sloppy blowjob, provided some lubrication as I casually beat him off with very rapid strokes. As his moans increased, the two women behind me stood up to watch him ejaculate. No one said a word; just the gentle laughter of our bold voyeurs filled the air.

As I pulled up hard on his cock, I felt his body go entirely rigid, and I knew the sperm was on its way. The women behind me realized it too and leaned their bodies in to get a better view. He only had time to utter something in French before the first jet of sticky semen shot out of his prick and flew above his head to land into the leering face of the woman in the aisle seat behind me. She drew back quickly, her and her companion both laughing uncontrollably as she reached for something in her pocketbook to wipe the cum from her face.

His girlfriend did nothing but watch me masturbate him, giggling as the hot spurts of joy juice fired out of his prick one after the other, soaking the back of the chair in front of him, as well as his own thighs, with a river of sperm. I enjoyed the feeling of the gooey cum as it cascaded over my fingers, greasing my palms with his generous offering. The women behind me continued to observe my forceful handjob, thrilled to see so much semen being ejaculated through my relentless efforts. Over and over the creamy spurts shot out, one actually flying out several aisles up and landing on the back of a sleeping passenger's chair. This was greeted by one of the women exclaiming, "Épatant!" followed by unbridled laughter.

It was their laughter that finally caught the attention of the flight attendant, who came running over just in time to watch him ejaculate a fantastic volley of white cream that my wild handjob caused to shoot out in several directions at once, one stream finding its way straight onto the unsuspecting woman's skirt.

"Oh, my!" she said, laughing at the trail of sperm on her clothes.

Suddenly, everyone on the plane started to awaken at once and began to crowd around us to watch the ribald show. And then it dawned on me that all the spectators were women—not one man amongst them with the exception of the one from whose penis I was now extracting copious amounts of cum.

"Some people have no shame," said a petite, middle-aged woman with gray hair as she watched my hands mechanically continue to milk stream after stream of cock juice from the boy's convulsing prick.

"But it doesn't stop!" said another woman as the semen spouted out from the tip like a geyser.

The sperm continued to fly in all directions, sometimes shooting so high up that it impacted upon the roof of the plane. It was impossible that one man could ejaculate such a tremendous amount of semen, yet the barrage continued unabated, and my hand kept stroking his cock as if it hand a mind of its own.

"You're doing well young lady," the gray-haired woman said to me. "You have him completely under your control."

She laughed as the multitudinous ropes of cum arced into the air around her, never once touching her.

"I must congratulate you," she continued, as the milky white seed washed over my hands. "You have a most interesting technique."

I looked up at her momentarily only to find that her facial features had somehow undergone a mysterious transformation.

"I know you," I said to her.

The woman laughed and continued to follow each arc of sperm as it flew around us.

"You're Lenore aren't you?" I said.

A tremendous jet of sperm flew into the face of the woman next to her.

"Who?" she replied, as yet another woman was instantly christened with a tremendous wash of errant cum.

Seeing the woman's distress, the entire crowd now broke out into fits of laughter. Even the boy and his girlfriend were laughing, and yet his cock would not stop ejaculating, nor would my hand release its grip upon him.