Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 05

"A strip show!" Justine exclaimed. "How quaint!"

It was apparent that these men had been chosen for their youth, physical attractiveness, and especially their dancing skills, as the routine they were now performing was nothing short of difficult, requiring great talent and coordination. As the music grew more frenetic, so did the dance routine itself, the men whirling about the dance floor at almost break-neck speed, heedless of the cheers of the audience surrounding them. The precision-like timing of their movements was impeccable, and when the music reached a crescendo, they, likewise, lined up all in a row and began to shake their lower bodies so hard that I thought their tiny thongs would fall off. And, unbeknownst to me, that was exactly what was supposed to happen.

As the music swelled to its final tutti, each man grabbed the right side of his strap and pulled on the Velcro attachment. Almost in unison, each man's thong fell to the floor, even as the music stopped playing. We were now looking at a chorus line of twenty-four nude men—twenty-four specimens of spectacular male beauty standing arm in arm, their sublime flesh exposed in the glare of the bright lights for all the women to enjoy. And enjoy it they did.

To the thunderous applause and cheers of the crowd, the dancers slowly inched their way forward to the edge of the dance floor and took a deep bow. They then turned around and bowed again with their backs to us, showing off their muscular bottoms. This brought the house down.

"Look at the ass on that one!" Lenore squealed, pointing to a rather husky specimen on our far left.

"No him!" Estelle exclaimed, almost unable to spit the words out because she was laughing so hard. "The guy in the middle. Look at the size of that dick!"

"I haven't been able to keep my eyes off it," my aunt informed us.

Suddenly, a woman came running up to our table dressed in a long, white, satin evening gown, her short red hair radiant in the glow of the spotlights. It was Dr. Monroe.

"Joanna," Lenore said. "There's one for the record books," she said, indicating the man with the outsized organ.

"I know!" she said out of breath. "Isn't that amazing? Another Mr. Villon!" She grabbed a chair and sat down next to my aunt, still keeping her eyes on the impressive sight. "I'll definitely have to do an examination on him!"

We all laughed.

Porky struck up the band once again, and we were greeted with familiar refrains of a popular stripper song. As the music played, the men wound their way into the audience taking orders for drinks from the women.

"Ladies," Porky said over the microphone, "don't forget to tip your waiters."

This brought a round of cheers from the audience.

"I'd rather have my waiter's big tip," Estelle said, ravenously eyeing the man with the huge penis who was now on his way toward our table.

When the waiter arrived, he was greeted with all kinds of jests and sexual slurs that made it almost impossible for him to take our orders. To his credit, he took it all in stride, even laughing along with us when Dr. Monroe bent her head down to inspect the thick slab of muscle that hung only inches from her face. She looked at it this way and that, commenting on its superb proportions, and comparing it to something that might be seen on one of Michelangelo's statues.

"May I?" she said to him, as she brought one her hands underneath the huge shaft.

The handsome man was taken by surprise, but he allowed her do as she wished, watching in fascination as she hoisted the flaccid pole up so that it almost touched his muscular abdomen.

"What do you think?" she said, turning to my aunt. "In its erect state. Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"At least," my aunt replied with a grin.

"And then some!" Justine added.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Monroe said to the waiter. "I don't...we don't mean to embarrass you but this...this is quite some huge, fucking schlong!"

Hearing the word "schlong" coming from the doctor's lips caused all of us to break into fits of uncontrollable laugher. She was, of course, drunk, as were most of the women at our table. Nonetheless, the use of the vernacular to describe the male appendage sounded especially funny coming from this otherwise demure and professional medical practitioner.

"Have you ever measured this thing," the beautiful redhead asked him.

"As a matter of fact," the young man replied unabashedly, "I have. It's exactly fourteen and a half inches long."

Dr. Monroe whistled through her teeth while the rest of us let out a collective gasp.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely," he replied proudly.

I noticed a sense of haughtiness in him, as if in the manner in which he replied to the doctor's questions, he had something to prove. The doctor let go of his penis and turned to face us, a look of mischief upon her face.

"I think it's probably more like thirteen inches," she said.

"Fourteen and a half," he insisted.

"I don't suppose you'd care to prove it," she said looking up into his face.

Suddenly the entire table broke out into giggles at the lewd suggestion. The waiter himself looked completely shocked and at a loss for words. He stood there, vacillating.

"It's okay young man," Lenore said, noting his ambivalence. "Why don't you just go and get us our drinks."

Dr. Monroe protested. "Oh, you're going to spoil my fun Lenore!"

"Well, he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to show you," she replied.

The waiter took a step back and took a long, appreciative look at the drunken doctor.

"Or do you?" Lenore asked him.

By this time the women sitting at a table in our immediate vicinity were beginning to take an interest in what was going on. They eyed the waiter, waiting to see what his response might be. One of the women was Felicia Antonetti.

"Go and do what the doctor tells you!" she said to him in her distinctive Italian accent. "Pronto! Pronto!"

The waiter gave the beautiful Italian woman a wan smile but didn't budge.

"I'm telling you that my cock is exactly fourteen and a half inches long," he said to Dr. Monroe, trying to sound convincing. "You'll have to take my word for it."

The doctor and several other women at our table chuckled.

"To hell with your word," she said. "I need proof."

"Well what do you expect me to do?" he said, almost whining. "Stroke it in front of everybody here?"

The doctor looked him squarely in the eyes. "Why don't you?"

"Oh, man," he said. "This is really weird!"

"Stroke it, or shut up and get us our drinks," she said turning her back on him.

He looked expectantly from face to face, trying to decide what to do. I could tell she was getting a little tired of playing this game, and if it was going to go any further, it would have to be up to him.

Putting down his pen and tab he took his cock in his hand and began to move his fingers up and down its entire length.

"All right," he said looking straight at her. "I'll prove it to you."

Dr. Monroe smiled. The thought of bringing yet another male under her control, and especially under these circumstances, made her feel sexy and powerful. Under normal circumstances, such a lewd display could never have occurred in this famous place. But this was a private function, forbidden to the public, and it was Lenore and the Sisterhood who were calling the shots. Even the proprietor had to acquiesce to the demands of my aunt and Lenore, who themselves had contributed vast amounts of money to keep the restaurant going when the owners could not pay the mortgage due to the restaurant falling upon hard times a few years ago. Even so, the blatant act was made no less spectacular by virtue of the slackened standards of its tolerant Sisterhood clientele.

As he masturbated himself, the women continued to engage in conversation, stopping at times to admire his deft manipulations of his penis, or to provoke him to stroke harder. It was amazing to see the effects of their words upon him. And as the amount of sexual slurs increased, so did the speed at which he drove his fist up and down his cock. Within only a few minutes, the unimposing and flaccid specimen had grown well over a foot long, until it now seemed too big to be real. The huge plum-like head of its corona could barely be contained in his hand, and he aimed it defiantly at Dr. Monroe.

"Well, go ahead," he said. "Measure it."

She looked at the monstrous prick with incredulity, amazed that the tangible reality of it surpassed whatever vision she had entertained in her own imagination.

"It's so fucking big!" she laughed as she pulled out a small measuring tape from her purse.

My aunt looked at the tape and chuckled. "I don't think that tape is going to be long enough."

"You'd be surprised," the doctor replied, as she extended the tape along the side of his penis.

"Holy shit," she remarked. "He's right! Fourteen and a half!"

"I told you," he said.

She quickly put the tape away.

"I apologize for doubting you," she said. Now take your hands away."

"Why?"

"Just do it," she said in a commanding voice.

He immediately removed his hands from his penis, allowing her to run her long, elegant fingers over the length of him.

"It feels so hot!" she observed, as she brought one of her hands underneath his cock to caress his bulging sac.

The rest of us watched in rapt fascination as Dr. Monroe played with the waiter's penis. He would moan softly now and then as her lithe hands danced ever so lightly along the length of the stiff shaft. She, in turn, used a variety of maneuvers that she had no doubt employed when she was called upon to obtain a sperm sample from a reluctant patient, using both of her hands to stroke, rub, tickle, and tease him to distraction.

"You'd better not do that," he said, unable to take his eyes off her stroking hands.

"Why not?"

"Because I might shoot off!"

She paused a moment to look up into his face. "Not without my permission you won't."

He was too overcome with the overpowering sensations provided by her handjob to offer any retort. He simply moaned again and let her do what she wished with him.

As she continued to toy with his genitals, several women from the adjoining table came toward us to get a better view of the proceedings.

"Come on over ladies," my aunt said waving them on. "You've got to see this."

Felicia was the first to lay her eyes on the waiter's towering cock, the sight of which forced her to stop dead in her tracks.

"Mama mia!" she exclaimed. "That's some sausage!"

There were seven other women standing directly behind her who were now jockeying to get a better look. One of them was the statuesque blonde, Greta Hofsteddar. She worked her way around the group of women and walked right up to the waiter, but her eyes never left his penis or the doctor's hands, which were now feverishly working on it.

"Is that for real?" she said to Dr. Monroe.

"Feel for yourself," the doctor replied, letting go of his penis.

The waiter's face registered almost physical pain at the removal of the doctor's hands, but was instantly rewarded by the introduction of Greta's hand upon his penis.

"Oh, my God!" she screeched. "And I thought my husband was big!"

"He is!" Lenore admitted. "But not like this!"

"It's obscene!" Greta laughed. "Do you need a license to carry this?" she teased him.

End of Chapter 5