One For All and All for One Ch. 01

The four of them had been inseparable, ever since grade school. Rob, Tom, Chris, and Bret had been so close growing up as kids in the suburbs of a large Midwest City, that everyone had dubbed them the Four Musketeers. Even in high school and throughout the years at the nearby college, the four stayed together. And even when Rob, Tom and Chris got married, they all lived in the same town and they all routinely spent almost every day and evening together. Their wives came in and just became part of the group.

Rob, Tom and Chris and gone into business together, in a small technology company. They worked together and played together, always competed outdo each other, and always vacationing only as a group of seven, Bret still being single. The favorite pastime was to see if they could find a wife for Bret. Because it was Bret who always seemed to stand slightly above and apart from the other three guys. He was tall, handsome, and while the others were solid engineers, Bret was a genius. He excelled at sports and while the others watched. It was Bret who starred on the college baseball team, while the other three created fantasy sports pools. While they dated seriously, zeroing in on a perfect spouse, Bret was dating and screwing anything in a skirt. His sexual prowess and size of his penis were the stuff of urban legends in the town. But after the game, after the dates, after it all, he always went back to being just one of the gang again, the Four Musketeers. And as they grew older, the competition to best each other grew also.

The rift started several years after they all finished college. While Rob, Tom and Chris and their wives saw each other constantly, Bret began to slowly slip away from the group. They would go for days without seeing or hearing from him, something always considered heresy for the Four Musketeers. And then, hallelujah, a call from Bret announcing that he was buying a home and that they should all come help him move in.

This was certainly cause for celebration. Not only was the house near to the homes of the other three, it was seen as a positive sign that Bret was looking to settle down. Carrie, Laura and Rae, the respective wives, agreed to redouble their effort to find Bret a wife.

Moving day was great. The Four Musketeers packed and unpacked and flawlessly moved Bret into his new digs. It turned out to be an older home in an established neighborhood, not far from the new housing development where the others lived. They all drank beer and laughed and horsed around, just like always.

Bret’s house was indeed a gem, beautiful and certainly one of a kind. Big rooms and hardwood floors abounded and the house teemed with unique nooks and crannies. High ceiling and lots of levels were everywhere. In fact, there was even a locked room on the lower level and the far end of the house. Even Bret hadn’t been able to get into it. Two massive padlocks barred the door. Bret’s real estate agent said that she would look into it, but he hadn’t heard from her again about it. They all laughed about the mystery room, and soon it was forgotten.

Not long after the move, the wives, Carrie, Laura and Rae, were fixing Bret up with dates, left and right. Thus began the quest to find’s Bret’s perfect mate, and for the wives perfect meant somebody who would fit into the group. Unfortunately, none of the setups took and once again, Bret began to disappear from the group. It was three months later that the group received the most shocking phone call of all.

Bret was getting married!! In two weeks!! And they were supposed to come to the wedding.

Absurd! Preposterous! And they had never even met this woman. The group was in total shock - especially the wives. In fact, it was a running joke that each of them in reality had four husbands. Each of the women, Carrie, Laura and Rae had been auditioned, if you will, during their courtships. Only a unanimous vote of approval from the Four Musketeers seemed good enough to lead to serious talk and ultimately marriage.

Laura had been the most difficult to get the men’s approval. She was a bit of a prude and quite outspoken about her devout religious convictions. She never swore and seemed to have no sense of humor. Sometimes it created a little tension in the group, since none of the others were into religious zeal, one way or another. But Tom liked her, so all the other guys went along. Carrie was a real cut-up and fit easily into the group at once. A little chunky and a bit overweight, she made up in humor what she lacked in beauty. Rae, on the other hand, was a beauty. Of Asian decent, she was tall, slim, and very athletic with long jet-black hair almost to her waist. She was an instant winner.

But now, an interloper, an unapproved woman, was to be let in. The group chaffed, but upon the wedding day, they were all there for the small ceremony, with Rob, Tom and Chris all serving as Best Men. The brief ceremony went smoothly and after it was over the real shock began to set in. The problem was the bride, Carla.

Carla was a petite blonde and certainly beautiful. Her tanned, well-muscled body was dramatically outlined in the short, tight fitting wedding dress. She appeared to all to be a woman who spent a great time in the gym, working on a spectacular body. She had large breasts for so slim a woman that the wives instantly nodded in agreement to each other - “boob job.” No, the problem with Carla was not looks. She had plenty of them. The problem was her age. She was at least twenty years older than Bret and the rest. Clearly in her mid-forties, there was no way this woman was going to fit into the group, all the women agreed.

Introductions were cool, at best. Carla was a successful attorney in town and she was bright and articulate. And she and Bret were obviously head-over-heels in love with each other. Like it or not, Rob Tom and Chris and their wives, were sure that this was the death knell for the Four Musketeers.

And for two months, it certainly appeared that way. Not a sound was heard from Bret and his bride, Carla. So when his invitation to host their weekly poker night at his house came, there was hope after all.

And it was great!! The four guys together again. Beer. Cigars. And poker. It was just like the great college days, the old days. Carla was working late at her office, so the chips flew and laughter rocked the house.

It was only when Tom went to take a piss, that the laughter came to a halt. Tom went down the hall to the toilet, and just as he was about to duck into the john, he noticed that the door to the Mystery Room was ajar. The two massive hasps on the door hung empty, free of the giant padlocks that were there earlier on move-in day.

Curious, Tom quietly pushed the door open and stepped in the darkened room. Groping for the light switch, he soon found it and dim, amber lights came on. Tom couldn’t believe his eyes.

“HOLY SHIT!” Tom said aloud.

He was standing in the middle of some kind of torture chamber, a kind of medieval dungeon. Manacles and whips hung on walls all around the room. Harnesses dangled from chains hooked to the ceiling. Several leather covered horse-type apparatuses were located around the room. On the walls, interspersed among the hanging whips were dildos of every shape and color, spreader bars, gags, blindfolds and things Tom couldn’t even identify, even if he had wanted to.

He turned the lights off, dashed out and after a quick trip to the toilet, returned to the game.

“Damn, that was the longest piss in history. Come on, you’re holding up the game,” one of them said.

Tom sat down quietly and stared directly at Bret.

“So, do you have something you want to tell us?” Tom asked. There was a long silence as Bret sat totally confused. And then Tom said, now bragging to the others, “I’ve just been into the Mystery Room.”

Stunned and embarrassed, Bret agreed to talk, knowing that there had never been any real secrets between them and never should be.

“First let me tell you the story behind the room before Rob and Chris see it,” said Bret.

He went on to explain that he had taken it upon himself to track down the previous owner, since the real estate agent had come up emptied handed. Soon he uncovered the name and wrote to the man. Weeks went by and nothing. Then, a letter arrived with a key inside. The letter was from the previous owner. He explained that he had indeed owned the house previously and, it turned out was a retired electrical engineer. He was ecstatic that another engineer now owned the house. He and his wife were an elderly couple and that the room with the locks was their private play room. They had entertained in the room and shared pleasures with each other and with people in the town and beyond. But when his wife died suddenly and prematurely, he was so crushed by the loss that he locked the room and sold the house.

The letter went on to say that the enclosed keys would unlock the room and that Bret was free to keep or destroy anything in the room. It was his now. The old man wanted nothing to do with it.

The room fell silent after Bret had relayed the story of the Mystery Room.

“Well, hell, let’s go see it,” said Rob and they all hurried down the hall.

They stood in the room, the three of them taking in the equipment and devices encircling them. A punishment chair sat in one corner, a type of swing hanging in another. The three were literally speechless as not one of them dared to ask the question that was really on their minds – did Bret ever use any of this stuff? It went unasked.

They all returned to the poker table and were beginning to get refocused on the game when Carla came home. She kissed Bret and then pecked each of the others on the cheeks and was about to go upstairs to change clothes when Bret spoke.

“Did you know that you left the room unlocked? Did you know that Rob, Tom and Chris have been inside? Do you know what that means?” Bret asked ominously.

The stunning older woman gave a slight nod of her head, and turned. Head bowed, she left the room.

“Okay, who’s bet,” Bret bubbled, as if the last awkward minute had never existed. Play resumed for the next five minutes until a large gasp stopped the game. Rob had been facing the door when Carla reentered the room. It was his gasp that caused all heads to turn.

Carla was standing in the room dressed in a long black leather corset, black stockings and black patent four-inch high heels. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly back into a long ponytail and she wore a black leather collar with a large chrome ring in the front. But the men’s eyes were on neither the collar nor the ponytail. The leather corset Carla was wearing came up just under her jutting breasts, leaving her magnificent tits bare. The boning of the corset pushed up in the center of her chest, separating her breasts and forming a pair of U shaped cutouts underneath them.

The other focal point was at the bottom of the corset. The corset was cinched extremely tight, and her rounded hips flared in contrast. Carla’s shaved, naked cunt was totally exposed, there for all to behold, with a small gold ring dangling from a piercing in her right vaginal lip.

“Oh my God!” one of the men exhaled in a barely audible whisper.

“You go to the room. We’ll follow,” Bret ordered and Carla turned and walked slowly down the hall toward The Room. “One for all and all for one,” Bret said grinning. “Leave now or forever hold you peace.” No one left. Bret smiled, stood and followed Carla out. The three men were confused, but eagerly followed close behind, watching the vision of Carla’s exquisite ass wriggle down the hall.

Inside the room, Carla immediately went over and stood beneath a dangling harness hanging from a slotted track mounted to the ceiling. She reached her hands up and Bret snapped her wrist into the manacles of the harness.

“You guys wanna help?” Bret asked.

“Sure!” came the unanimous, resounding reply.

“Lift her legs up and put her in those ankle straps,” Bret instructed

Eagerly the men lifted the petite blonde, and secured her ankles, leaving her hanging facing the ceiling, suspended about five feet above the floor, her legs spread wide apart. Bret finished the job by attaching the waistband of the harness around Carla corseted waist and hooking the attached chain to the cradle mounted on the track.

Bret picked up a small device and pushed the button. At that, an electric motor started and Carla began to glide along the track, feet first toward a large wooden post where the track terminated. Rob, Tom and Chris’s eyes all immediately shifted to the post, the obvious destination of the trip. There, jutting out from the post, was a large, rigid flesh-colored dildo, perhaps two feet in length.

Bret leaned over and whispered, “The old guy did this with a garage door opener. See what an engineer can do when he puts his mind to it.”

It was certainly a sight to behold the guys said. Real engineering at work, as the beautiful blonde glided along the track toward certain impalement on the rigid phallus. Her long ponytail dangled down toward the floor as her head fell backward, waiting the moment of insertion. But with less that three feet remaining before she was to be skewered by the massive plastic cock, Bret stopped the track.

“What do you have to say now?” he asked his dangling wife.

“I’m sorry I left the room unlocked. I’ll never do it again,” she said calmly

“How sorry are you?” Bret asked

“I’m very sorry. Ill do anything you want to make amends,” she said.

“I know you will,” Bret said and pushed the button.

Smoothly Carla slid forward and, as if inserting a key into a lock, slid a good 8 inches onto the awaiting pole. Her moist cunt lips spread apart and yielded easily to the intruding thrust.

“Ahhhhhh!” she shrieked, but it sounded like a shriek of pleasure more than pain to all there.

Bret pushed the button and Carla slid away, freeing herself from the plastic invader. Just as quickly, Bret hit the button again, and she was reversed, being slammed again upon the dripping pink staff. 10 inches of the rod disappeared

“Aaaaoooooowwwww,” she moaned, and it was pure pleasure this time.

“How sorry are you?” Bret asked again.

“Very sorry. And I’ll do whatever you want,” she moaned seductively, her head dangling upside down as she turned and looked at her husband, while still skewered upon the jutting phallus.

“Don’t be sorry to me. It’s poor Tom you should apologize to,” Bret said. “He’s the one you put in the awkward position of finding the room unlocked.”

“Oh, Tom,” she said, shifting her gaze. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” As she spoke, she wriggled her hips slightly, wedging herself even further onto the dildo stuffed inside her.

“Tom, let me help,” Bret said, a wry tone in his voice. “Why don’t you get up on the stand at the other end of the track and we’ll see if she’s truly sorry.

Unsure, Tom moved to the other end of the track and stepped up on a large two step platform. Instantly the track motor started and Carla groaned as she became dislodged form the plastic cock. She started glided in the opposite direction, now moving headfirst toward Tom.

Soon the motor stopped and Carla’s head was dangling two feet from Tom, as he stood atop the platform, positioned at a level with his groin even to her dangling face.

“How sorry?” Bret asked.

“Oh, Tom,” the older woman begged. “Please unzip your pants and let me really apologize.”

Unhesitatingly, Tom unsnapped his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. In another second, his shorts were down and his erect penis bobbed in the air.

The electric motor lurched again and instantly Carla’s open mouth was floating toward Tom’s cock. When she was on him, her chin pushed hard against his pubic hair, the motor shutoff. Tom looked down at the beauty devouring his cock, sucking him as he had never been sucked before. Hanging upside down as she was, Carla’s neck was back and her throat aligned to easily take Tom as deep as possible. Tom realized instantly that his cock was well past her mouth and down into her throat. Deep throated, for the first time, he thought. It was certainly something his prudish wife, Laura, would never do. Or even suck his cock in any manner, he thought to himself. The whine of the motor snapped him back to Carla and the present.

The motor kicked in and Carla slid away, stopping with her mouth open, now ten inches away from Tom. The motor whirred and the warmth of her throat encased Tom’s prick again. An electric burp - and she was 3 inches away.

The room erupted with laughter. It was clear that both Carla and Bret were enjoying Tom’s torment. A click, the motor started and she was on him again, sucking voraciously this time. Carla sucked wildly for another minute and it was obvious that Tom was ready to shoot his hot load down her open throat. Then a click, and as Carla moved away and dangled inches from his cock, Tom erupted, covering her face with his hot juice.

Then she was off again, moving once again to the other end of the track and was split apart by the unyielding phallus. 12 inches deep this time.

“How far can she, you know, how deep…” Rob stammered to Bret, unsure of how to ask the question.

“She taken as much as 16 inches when she really gets warmed up. But I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me if she took the whole two feet one of these days,” Bret said smiling.

Carla was groaning with pleasure now as the massive toy filled her cunt and cum dripped from her face. Bret reversed her and now had her stopped and dangling in the middle of the room.

“Oh, please let me come. Pleeeese,” she begged, this time a note of sincerity in her voice.

“Do you think you deserve to?” teased Bret.

“Please, I’ll be good and keep the room locked,” she moaned. “Please make me come.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Bret said, really enjoying her obvious frustration. “Rob, you’ve bragged about your cunt eating abilities since we were 12 years old. You want to give it a shot?”

Without a word, Rob stepped between Carla’s outspread legs and pushed his mouth hard onto her smoldering cunt. It didn’t take long after that. Carla began bucking her hips, grinding her cunt against his lapping tongue. Rob rolled her erect clit around with his tongue and it was all over. Carla exploded, showering his face with a spray of hot juices.

“Damn! She’s a real squirter,” said Rob. “I didn’t honestly think they existed.”

“They do,” replied Bret, “and she is. No faking it here. When she comes, you really know about it.”

They all helped, unhooked Carla, and took her down from the harness, returning her gently to the floor, each of the three getting a generous handful of the blonde beauty’s treasures as they put her down.

Carla started for the door and Bret snapped, “Not so fast. There’s another apology you owe. You’ve ignored poor Chris and I can tell his feelings are hurt. The horse,” he ordered.

Without a pause, the petite blonde walked over and positioned herself face down on the leather-covered apparatus, her ass sticking directly up in the air. Bret attached her wrists and ankles to the cuffs attached on the corners of the horse.

“Chris, old buddy, I’m sorry but it’s clear that my wife has done you wrong. And she deserves to be spanked. Or paddled,” Bret said.

“Seriously?” Chris asked.

“Very seriously,” Bret said, handing Chris a black, leather covered paddle from the wall.

Chris looked at the paddle, then at Carla’s exquisite ass, made even more enticing by the tightly cinched leather corset. The extreme cinching added a delicious roundness to her ass. Chris handed the paddle back to Bret saying, “This is just too good to pass up.”

He walked over to Carla and paused a moment, taking in the beautiful sight of her exposed and vulnerable ass. Then his hand rose and fell swiftly.