The Party Boy

In the kitchen I am greeted with an even more bizarre sight. Hanging over the kitchen table is a trapeze bar. On it, upside down, knees well parted and folded over the bar is a naked girl, appearing short and chubby, breasts even larger than Katrina’s. Her wrists are pulled behind her back and secured to her ankles, making her one with the bar. A clear plastic speculum holds open her portal, the bright pink flesh of her moist vagina well displayed. Beneath the girl on the table is a large glass bowl. The girl’s breasts, tipped with elongated nipples, appearing more as udders, are letting down. Lactate drips!

“One of our cows,” Miss Susan casually offers. “She expresses when she’s exposed and aroused. Her proclivity for lactation is handy. Later we’ll need her for coffee. For now she just secretes.”

“Upside down?” I must inquire.

“Gravity. Improves the circulation in those bestial glands of hers. That brings an intense need to be milked. We’ll take turns at the end of the night,” Miss Susan extending her ha

nd to jiggle the low hanging left breast.

Her action causes several droplets to splash to the bowl.

“Don’t worry, honey, they may be throbbing now, but you’ll be well milked by evening’s end.”

On the table is a feather. Miss Susan picks it up and briefly uses the very fine tip to caress a prominently presented clitoris. The girl moans. More lactate drips to the bowl.

“Curious anatomical reaction to pleasure, don’t you think?” returning the feather to the table.

Miss Susan nods for me to sit. She joins me.

“As you can see, our little bridge gathering, as we humorously reference it because some of the girls are married, is for dykes like me who favor the tongue and lips of little morsels of flesh like Katrina. She’s my little whore. And I want to pimp her out, have her earn her keep. Unfortunately one can’t make money being skilled in cunnilingus. No woman ever needs to pay for oral sex. She just has to walk to the nearest street corner and ask the next passing male hound if he’d like to lick her pussy.

“So I need to expand her oral skills. Teach her about the male appendage... how to lick, where... learn to take a stiff cock down her throat. So, before you unlock your boy, I want to explain the reason for this form of entertainment. Unusual for the bridge club to have a male beast in attendance, but there’s only so much I can teach Katrina using a dildo. Does your boy have a problem with premature ejaculation? Hate to end the evening early.”

I smile.

“When and if Jack comes, it is at my command.”

“So he has no expectations about ejaculating?”

“His expectations are irrelevant. In presenting at these parties, sometimes the women want to see him erupt... other times a ruined orgasm is preferred. Depends on the gathering and the whim of the hostess.”

Poor Jack, I am beginning to think. This group could care less about men... and their needs.

“Good. Well I’ll want neither. This is about women’s pleasure... and teaching Katrina how to suck cock. With those tits of hers she’ll get at least a hundred for a quick blow job.”

“I’m going to need some ice... for later... when I put Jack’s penis back in its cage.”

“Not a problem.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Miss Kelly, I need to be milked,” Jack blurts as I again negotiate the George Washington Bridge.

“No, Jack. Next week you’re scheduled for the party in Soho. I’ll want you bursting with juices for your new friends. Meanwhile I’ll have you well worked on the treadmill tomorrow. That will help.”

For an inordinate length of time at Miss Susan’s ‘bridge party’, I pressed Jack’s amazingly firm erection toward the floor while the trollop Katrina licked and sucked, deep throating Jack at Miss Susan’s command, choking on his ten inches, bringing laughter from the skirted women receiving unending cunnilingus.

So much aware of the male anatomy, I learned long ago that a penis cannot erupt when held at such an angle. I thought Jack was going to swoon, enduring for so long at the edge... pleasure not to be ultimately permitted.

And yes, I had to ice him to get his raging penis back into its tight cage.

“It’s not fair,” Jack pouts like a little boy.

“Perhaps. But I have $300 in my bag and for the first time you had your penis sucked. I thought it was rather nice of Katrina. She learns quickly.”

The remainder of the journey home is in silence. As a woman I cannot empathize with the many emotions... most notably the male delight. But Jack is certainly not completely at the losing end of the exchange. He merely had to stand completely exposed, in frustration trying mightily to come in Katrina’s mouth... something my directing hand would not permit.

“I’d like to make love to you, Miss Kelly,” Jack gushes in earnest as I pull the car into the parking garage. “I’d like to have you... come normally... please you like a man!”