Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 10

Presently, he heard the clatter of metal upon metal; a dull, persistent hammering that was accompanied by the strident, high-pitched voice of a woman growing increasingly impatient. He now got to his feet and determinedly made his way toward the direction of the voice, forced to keep his distance by the tangle of spidery flora that blocked his way.

And then, when the vegetation would allow him to go no further, he noticed a small aperture that had been cut through the thick, green mass and which appeared no wider than three or four feet, but wide enough for him to crawl through on all fours. Crouching down on his hands and knees, he slowly guided his body through the prickly tunnel of weeds and dense overgrowth and found himself looking upon a small clearing, devoid of trees and grass and completely and safely ensconced within a greater tangle of wild and omnipresent vegetation.

And in the middle of this clearing stood a very old edifice that rose up over twenty feet high from its massive concrete base, its roof still partly draped over with pervasive, dark-green, ivy tendrils. One of its huge and ponderous iron doors had been ripped from its hinges and now leaned diagonally on one side against the wall. Even with the aid of his binoculars, he could see nothing beyond the entrance but sheer darkness.

This structure, he recalled, could be nothing more than the bunker built by the Germans during the Second World War. But from what he had been told by those from whom he purchased the property years ago, it had completely caved in and was buried under more than a half century of vegetation: obsolete, inaccessible, and best left untouched. He had never bothered to investigate what he believed would have been a dangerous and foolhardy enterprise, so he contented himself to overlook the ancient structure and concentrate his efforts on more pressing utilitarian matters while the weeds continued their obdurate course in overrunning the bunker into ever greater stages of obscurity.

He wondered why Phoebe would have bothered to undertake such a task, having expressed absolutely no interest in the bunker and knowing that such an excavation would avail nothing. It made no sense.

Suddenly he heard voices emanating from a point just beyond his field of view. Dragging his body closer to the mouth of the opening, he now saw what it was that had captured his attention. And what he saw amazed him.

Seven or eight women—young women he thought, maybe in their early 20s or so, and all wearing a modicum of clothing—were gathered around an apparatus of some unknown design and were in the process of putting it together under the guidance of a gesticulating blonde-haired girl. Sometimes she spoke to them in French and sometimes in English, but her intent was very clear. She seemed to have grown impatient with the general incompetence of the group and was now demanding that they get it right or be punished.

He raised his binoculars to his eyes and his mouth fell open. Catching himself just before he made the foolish error of uttering a cry, he lowered the binoculars from his face and swore quietly under his breath. He recognized the stern and threatening supervisor as none other than his wayward daughter, Angelique. She was dressed in a pair of white tennis shorts and a pink blouse. On her head was a white cap and she wore sunglasses that seemed too big for her face. Her feet were bare.

"You fucks better get this thing working by 6:00 PM or I'll make each of you go for a ride on it!" the angry young woman exclaimed as she stamped the ground with her foot.

"What the hell is this?" Pierre muttered to himself.

Again he peered through the binoculars, hoping that an increase in his visual acuity would somehow increase his comprehension of what was going on. From what he could tell, the women were engaged in assembling a rather massive device that seemed to evoke images of some bygone terror. As he watched them work, he noticed that the source of the light, which had led him on his quest in the first place, was nothing more that the reflection of the sun upon the shiny, metallic surface of the machine's most nethermost projection: a mysterious and intimidating set of metal arms that looked as if they could ensnare even the most powerful of men.

The women worked assiduously, never once stopping to take a break as long as their superior was watching over them. Despite his wariness, Pierre couldn't help but laugh derisively as he watched his daughter boss everyone about as if she were a commandant in a prisoner-of-war camp. He knew the Sisterhood was a strange and misguided group of misfits, but what had compelled Phoebe to undertake such a thing? What person in their right mind would have gone through the effort and expense to refurbish an old, decrepit, and potentially dangerous bunker? Phoebe had always maintained a marked disinterest, and even a morbid distaste, at the thought of resurrecting the remnants of a sleeping behemoth that represented, to her, the symbol of a far more cruel and unenlightened age. Such blatant and militaristic artifacts of warfare were simply alien to her refined sensibilities. He settled back on his side to continue viewing the proceedings with a curious eye.

Pierre had no idea what they were assembling, but the sight of the thing, even in its intermediate stage of construction, made him feel very uncomfortable. Maybe it was those long, menacing metal arms that gave him pause, or maybe it was its sheer size, standing well over 8 feet in height and containing a large, central aperture through which he imagined a human body could pass through. Whatever it was, he felt an instinctive repugnance toward it.

He once more raised his binoculars to his eyes, hoping to find an answer to the purpose of this enigmatic machine. And just as the first, faint glimmer of understanding reached his brain, he felt something rise up in his throat like the remnants of an unsuccessfully digested meal. The binoculars fell from his hands and, stifling a cry, he hurriedly forced his body backward through the leafy tunnel. Once upon his feet, he began to retrace his steps through the forest in the direction from which he came. As he quickly made his way once again through the dense underbrush, he came to two distinct conclusions: that his ex-wife was almost certainly unaware of what was going on, and that his daughter, whatever clandestine motives she now entertained, would seek to keep it that way. There was no doubt in his mind. Phoebe would have to be told.

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

Le Trois was the name of restaurant in the heart of Paris, long known for catering to an upscale clientele, and even more so for the questionable antics sometimes performed under its roof by some of its most prominent and kinky patrons. It was also a place where the rich and famous could go and be left relatively in peace as they dined on sumptuous, but vastly overpriced fare. It had been in existence since the middle 1960s, and had grown in reputation ever since, acting as a watering hole for artists, musicians, writers, actors, and all sorts of celebrities from around the world. My aunt Phoebe was a frequent customer, but I had never seen the place until now.

I had been told to meet Mary Kate and Ashley at 8:00 PM, and had arranged for a cab to take me into the city, the twins promising me a ride home. As I entered the foyer, I was greeted by the hostess who immediately took me to the far end of the main dining room and led me through another door leading into a relatively small area with only one large circular table and several chairs surrounding it. I noticed that there was another door behind where the table stood, presumably opening out into yet another room.

"Here I am!" I announced, as I walked briskly toward my dining companions.

Both girls raised their glasses in salute as the hostess sat me at the table.

"Right on time as usual!" Ashley noted with a hint of gaiety in her voice.

"I hate people who are always so precise," Mary Kate said half-mockingly. "Life doesn't run like a clock."

Ashley laughed. "Have you ever noticed, Holly, that Mary Kate seldom wears a watch?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," I replied. "I don't like wearing them much either."

I showed them both my bare wrists.

"See!" Mary Kate said to her sister. "She's just like me."

The younger twin poured herself some champagne and took a long swig. Ashley waited until her sister finished drinking and then looked me fully in the face.

"You're not like her, are you?"

She said this with feigned distaste.

"Well, I really do hate to wear watches on my wrists, but I always have my cell phone with me, and my blackberry."

Ashley grinned at her sister. "Not so much like you after all is she?"

Mary Kate shrugged. "I don't think I can stand two anal-retentive people in my presence at one time."

"Deal with it," Ashley said, cajolingly.

The waiter, a handsome man in his late twenties, entered the room just at that moment and asked us if we were ready to order. His name was Anton, and the girls and I were instantly taken by his great charm and good looks. We began to make small talk with him even as we placed our orders. After he left the room, Mary Kate giggled and confessed to me that I was in for a treat.

"He's the guy we told you about. You know. The one who can do tricks with his penis."

A look of horror came across my face. "Please don't tell me he's going to do his act during diner or else I'll puke!"

Both girls laughed simultaneously. "No, no, no," Ashley said. "After dinner and downstairs in the café."

I relaxed a little after that. The last thing I wanted to think of was seeing a pubic hair in my food.

The dinner was exceptionally good, and after having imbibed a full glass of wine, unusual for me, I felt a little precocious. When Anton came back out to present us with our check, I couldn't help but speak aloud what was on my mind.

"So," I said to him, my voice somewhat slurred, "I hear you're the guy with the magic schlong!"

He looked at me for moment with puzzlement until Mary Kate pointed directly at his cock.

"Oh!" he laughed. "Oui mademoiselle! Schlong. Penis. I understand. Yes. I can do tricks with my dick."

"I'm looking forward to seeing it."

"And I am happy to oblige," he replied as he placed the check on the table. "Showtime is in twenty minutes."

"I hope you have refrained from masturbating," Mary Kate said to him.

"Oh, oui, yes. I have not had an orgasm for seven days."

Both sisters tittered with joy.

"You know what that means?" Ashley squealed.

"Enormous amounts of cum?" I asked, looking the waiter in the eyes.

"Exactly. This guy can toss some mean ropes."

"How do you say it in French?" Mary Kate asked the waiter.

"Le jus cordage," he replied.

Ashley insisted on paying the bill, but I dutifully let a tip. Anton, after having returned with her credit card, told us that he had to get ready for his performance and was looking forward to seeing us in the audience.

"We have seats in the front row." Ashley told him. "Just do me a favor and point your cock away from us when you cum."

"I will mademoiselle. Do not worry," he assured her.

Mary Kate was checking her face in a hand mirror. "Anton, would you mind showing us one of your tricks now?"

"Well, mademoiselle," he began, reluctantly. "I don't know..."

"We'll leave you a very big tip."

"Come on, Anton," Ashley insisted. "One little trick, please."

"Yeah," I added. "Show us."

To reinforce her promise, Mary Kate threw down a handful of bills on the table, which Anton clearly appreciated.

"I think I just have enough time," he said as he removed his belt and let his pants and then his underwear fall to his knees. "Now watch closely."

His penis seemed quite average to me as all three of us stared at it. But then again, it was still in its flaccid state. After thirty seconds nothing seemed to be happening.

"So, what's the trick?" I asked him.

"Give him a minute," Mary Kate replied. "He has to concentrate."

As the seconds ticked by, something indeed was happening: his penis was beginning to get hard.

"Oh, look at that!" Ashley chuckled as Anton's cock rose perpendicular to the floor. "See how long it's getting? And without any stimulation at all."

It was true. As the three of us focused our eyes on his cock, it began to swell by imperceptible degrees until he was fully erect. It had only taken him a little over a minute to achieve the impressive results.

"Voila!" Anton said proudly as he stared down benevolently at his fully engorged penis.

"Amazing!" I said. "I've never seen any guy do that! How do you do it?"

"Well, I just think of a beautiful woman," he replied eyeing me. "Such as yourself. If I may be so bold."

Mary Kate laughed. "Someone has an admirer!"

I shook my head and tried not to blush. "So how big is it, Anton?"

"I'm not sure, mademoiselle," he replied. "At least 10 inches I think."

"At least," Ashley said, admiring his equipment. "Mary Kate, you have a little measuring tape in your purse. Why don't you measure him?"

Without a word, Mary Kate reached in her purse and withdrew a tiny, metal tape measure. She extended the ruler as far as it would go. "It stops at twelve inches," she said.

"So, go ahead and measure him," Ashley said impatiently.

"Come in a bit closer," Mary Kate said to Anton.

The waiter moved so that his penis was only inches away from the lovely girl's face. Mary Kate held up the ruler to Anton's cock and placed one end at the base of it while she took the measurement.

"Yup, he's right," she said smiling. "Just ten inches from base to tip."

"Well, Anton," I said. "You certainly have something to be proud of."

He seemed pleased. "Thank you, mademoiselle. I am glad you approve."

With a deft flourish he guided his turgid prick back into his underwear and pulled up his pants. "See you at the show!" he said as he walked gaily out of the room.

Ashley looked a bit disappointed.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"If he didn't have a show to do tonight, he would've performed his multiple cumshot routine for us. That's always a blast, right Mary Kate?"

"We'll still get a chance to see it," she replied. "He told me that was going to be the finale of the show. Not just him. Several other guys too."

Ashley's beautiful face suddenly brightened. "Really? That's great! Holly, you are going to flip out when you see this!"

"I can't wait," I said excitedly. "I love watching guys shoot off."

"Me too," Mary Kate said.

"Yeah," Ashley added, letting the tip of her tongue playfully touch the rim of her glass.

The show began punctually at 10:00 PM. Thanks to Mary Kate and Ashley's influence, we got a front row seat. The layout of the room reminded me of those bygone days of the omnipresent supper clubs that used to host universally second-rate talent all across America. However poor that talent might have been, the ambience sort of made up for it.

The audience was comprised primarily of women, but I did see one or two guys hanging out at the back of the room. I was under the impression that this was going to be something of a strip show, but I was soon corrected on that account.

"No, this isn't anything like that," Ashley enlightened me. "These guys are going to do tricks with their cocks. It's kind of like the Cirque du Soleil only I call it the Cirque du Pénis. You're going to love it!"

As the lights went down all conversation immediately stopped and our attention was drawn to the dimly lit stage. A Straus waltz was heard in the background as a troupe of ten men cavorted onto the stage from both sides, wearing nothing more than colorful bowties and black leather boots. As they strutted around the stage in a precisely choreographed routine, I saw Anton sneak a look at me and smile.

"I think he's in love with you," Mary Kate whispered in my ear.

At first the dance routine seemed almost boring to watch, but after a full minute of prancing around naked the stage lights went up and the audience broke out into a roar as a group of women came dancing onstage in various sexy outfits, each holding some kind of apparatus in their hands.

It would be too much to relate here, but the overall effect was to help the guys get erections, and this the women accomplished by various means of hand manipulation. What followed was something that made me clutch my seat in amazement.

One man had a cord tied around his penis and large metal plates were hung from it, effectively treating his cock like some kind of pulley. And pull he did! I think more than 50 pounds of weight was applied to his penis, but he managed to walk around the stage with little difficulty. He earned a tremendous round of applause from the crowd.

I watched in utter amazement as two men played a form of table tennis with each other, using their cocks like racquets to bat around a small ball back and forth. At the end, one of the men caught the ball in his mouth, much to the delight of the audience.

As the show wore on, we were astounded to see how many ways the penis could be employed as a form of entertainment. One guy had dressed his cock up like a puppet in the form of a snake, and he used ventriloquism to act out some lewd fantasy with his nether companion. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen. Mary Kate laughed so hard that she nearly fell off her chair.

And the guy following him did a fantastic type of aerial display using a high wire, where he had some device strapped to his penis that allowed him to lay his body flat along the trajectory of the wire and perform all kinds of dazzling aerobatics. I had never known that the penis could withstand such rigorous applications.

Anton made us all laugh when he used his ample cock as a bat, swinging at pitched tennis balls of which a few landed almost in our laps. Even while he was performing his act, the same women ran around the stage, always making certain that each man remained erect. Their combined antics drove the crowd into a frenzy.

However, it was the routine of the guy who came after him that really made us laugh. Taking center stage, this rather tall and slender man pulled three different colored hollow plastic balls from a box and began to juggle them, using his long penis as a third arm. It was quite fascinating to watch his prick jerk upwards every time one of the balls landed on it, and he was greeted with a thunderous roar of applause each time he did so.

About an hour into the show, the lights went down and the men stood in a long line in front of the audience, their cocks glistening with lubricant that their female assistants had applied. Mary Kate indicated to me that this was the finale of the show, where each cock was going to ejaculate without any kind of assistance whatsoever. I had never seen this feat accomplished before, so I was anxious to see if it were really possible.

The atmosphere had gone from one of unbridled gaiety to one of hushed anxiety in a matter of seconds. The music that blared from the loudspeakers reminded me of the same kind of music you would hear on game show such as "Millionaire". It evoked a sustained suspense that unconsciously kept you at the edge of your seat. Two minutes went by, then three. And then purple strobe lights came on.

"I think we're going to see our first cumshot," Mary Kate said, elatedly.

"Which one?" Ashley asked her sister.

"Him," Mary Kate answered, pointing to the guy on the far right. "Look he's starting to shoot now."

How Mary Kate knew this I could not comprehend, but she was right. Even as she finished speaking, the guy thrust his hips forward and cried out. With no stimulation whatsoever, his huge cock reared back and fired a giant salvo of hot white cream into the audience, almost reaching the women in the table next to us. Not only did the cum travel a long distance, the strobe lights made it look like it was moving as if in slow motion, with the long arc of sperm broken up and highlighted into its constituent globules. It was a startling effect that astonished everyone in the audience.