The Lickbox

Garry

"How was dinner with Helen?" I asked my wife Samantha after she got home.

Sam sighed. "Terrible. She really gave me an earful about her relationship with Frank. It's safe to say she's not at all satisfied in the bedroom."

"Oh? Anything you can share?" I asked hopefully. I always thought Helen was one of Sam's hotter friends, and although I wasn't happy to hear that she was doing poorly, the ever-present male undercurrent of lust made me want the sordid details.

Samantha spilled the beans. Helen and Frank hadn't had sex since Christmas—over six months—and she was desperate! The couple times she had gotten any from him, it was very perfunctory: wham bam thank you ma'am. Plus, Helen loved to receive oral sex, yet Frank had only ever gone down on her two or three times during their entire marriage. Sam told me that Helen didn't believe in divorce, but she was going out of her mind with pent-up desire.

This really made me mad. I didn't really respect Frank in the first place, but to see him treat a beautiful woman like that was really disgusting. I absolutely loved going down on a woman, and Samantha knew it well. She always bragged to me about how amazing my tongue felt on her pussy, and I loved to keep it there. And sometimes she bragged in a very round-about way to her friends about my talents. She ended her description of Helen's complaints to me with "It's too bad I can't rent you out."

My cock involuntarily twitched. The thought of being a pussy slave to two beautiful women—my wife and her friend—was very exciting, and passion rushed through my veins. I answered, trying not to sound too eager, "Yes, thatistoo bad!"

Sam knew what I was thinking. "Look, don't get any bright ideas. Although I don't really consider oral sex cheating, I could never have you service one of my friends. That would totally ruin our friendship, and probably wouldn't be all that great for our marriage, either."

"Well, I suppose I agree about that," I replied thoughtfully. After a moment I added, "But what if I could provide a valuable service like that without me knowing who I'm eating, and without her knowing it's me?"

Samantha looked at me quizzically. "Let me get this straight. You'll eat Helen. But she won't know it's you, and you won't know it's her?"

"That's what I'm proposing."

"Well, I guess I won't consider that cheating since it's only oral sex. You'll get to lick another woman, which I know you adore. Helen will have her first vibrator-less orgasm of the year, no thanks to her selfish husband. I'll be saved the embarrassment of being humiliated in front of my friends, and have a little secret thrill knowing I'm pimping you out. I hate to say that I'm considering this, but I actually don't see the downside! Except of course, what you're suggesting is impossible."

"Let me worry about that," I said. "Are you sure that it's okay? I don't want regrets afterwards."

Sam hesitated. "Can I sleep on it?"

I heartily agreed, "Of course."

Samantha

The night before, I had gone out with my friend Helen. She told me about how sexless her marriage had become—I had no idea. The poor girl was not getting laid at all, and my husband Garry weaseled the details out of me. I'm not normally a dirty girl, but he suggested something that really made my fantasies run wild. I was joking about pimping him out to service her, and he said that if he could do that without either he or Helen knowing who it was, would I agree? I spent the rest of the night thinking about it non-stop.

His offer to service my friend was interesting. Of course, if the person giving her head was anonymous, I'm sure she would go for it. She told me she was on the verge of just going to a bar and picking the first anonymous fuck she could find to get any kind of action. A more controlled environment would be much safer for her.

I know Garry's a pussy hound. He loves to go down on me. I can drive him wild by rubbing my finger between my wet lips, and then waving it under his nose so he can pick up my scent. It's almost sad how easily I can control him by rewarding or withholding a taste of me. I try not to abuse it, but I have been known to let him lick me only after he completes a particularly terrible "honey-do" around the house. It's bad to abuse my power, but sometimes it's the quickest and easiest way to get things done.

I have to say that the thought of using Garry as a rent-boy really turned me on. I gave me a thrill when I tortured and teased him with pussy deprivation. Seeing just how desperately he ate me after I finally gave him the chance was completely hot. And thinking about the extra level of torture, enticing him with another woman's pussy? Fantastic. I loved the idea of being his pimp, telling him who he could lick and when and how long he could lick her. Seeing him on his knees in front of another woman: through him I would be indirectly give her an orgasm.

I would never consider letting him fuck another woman. That is cheating in my book, pure and simple. For some reason, oral sex isn't the same. And I wouldn't want him going back for seconds without my approval. I think I could live with him eating another woman, but I wouldn't allow it if he wanted anything more.

I had dirty dreams all night. Man after man going down on me, eating my pussy, fingering me senseless. I couldn't see their faces, so I could never be sure who it was. In parts of the dream, Helen was laying beside me, also with her legs spread wide, having her own team of men lined up one after another. They were licking us both at the same time. We were holding hands when we came, and she would turn towards me and smile thanking me. I looked down between her legs, and I could see my husband's face smiling up at me.

When I woke up, my pussy was damp. I felt the sheets underneath, and there was a wet spot. I don't know if I came in my sleep or not, but I must have been close. That pretty much clinched it—if Garry could figure out how to do it without anyone knowing anything, I would let him. I turned over in bed to tell him this, but he had already gotten up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and I pushed my fingertips inside myself, making sure they were nice and wet. I walked into the bathroom and got my robe, and went downstairs. Garry was sitting at the kitchen table scratching on a pad of paper and sipping a coffee. I came up behind him, and hugged him from behind. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. "If you can make it anonymous for everyone, you can do it."

"Really?" he said, as if he had just won super-bowl tickets.

"I promise," I replied. I took my still wet fingers and rubbed them across his upper lip. With my wet musk under his nose it didn't take anytime at all for him to get my other message either. He turned around, and lifted my robe, gazing at my pussy.

Garry admired me and said, "God, you're gorgeous." He kissed my bellybutton, and trailed a small chain of kisses down my belly to the top of my fur. He looked up at me. "I mean, all of you, not just your pussy. But her too."

I reached my hand into his hair, and softly pulled him into me. "Please don't stop," I whispered huskily to him.

He put one arm around my waist to support me, and with the other propped up my foot on the chair he was sitting on, spreading my thighs. My wet vulva was now open, and he dipped his head gently to give me a kiss on my exposed pussy. He delicately parted my lips and started peppering my bush with slow, wet, sloppy kisses. I tilted my head back with a sigh, and pulled his head deeper into me. He suckled at my cunt, licking and slurping her like a little boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He slid two fingers inside me, and started simultaneously milking my G-spot. After my night of wet dreams, I couldn't last long against his combined onslaught, and I cried out as I came, forcefully pulling his mouth against my pussy as tight as I could as each wave passed through me.

I finally came down from my orgasm and a little weak in the legs, plopped down next to him. "Good morning sleepy-head," he said with a shit-eating grin, wiping my moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Good morning," I gave him a breathy reply, my pleasure-lidded eyes barely keeping open.

"Do you want to see what I've been doing this morning? Other than eating you out, of course?"

I gave him a demure glance. "Sure. What?"

"Take a look," he said, as he pushed the pad of paper across to me. I looked at it, and it was a rough schematic of something. "What is it?"

Garry gave me a huge grin. "Look very carefully, and tell me what you see."

I looked at it again, trying to shake the remnants of the orgasm from me. The drawing had measurements and lines all over it. I started describing it to him.

"It's a box. But it looks like there's a horse saddle on top."

"Yep. Keep going."

It finally dawned on me what it might be, but I wanted him to tell me. "What is this?"

"This my dear, is something that will let me lick your friends without them knowing it's me, and without me knowing who I'm licking. I call it, appropriately enough, a Lickbox."

I stared at the paper wide-eyed. I could see that the box was large enough for a man to sit in; a dashed line outline of a figure sitting on his heels showed the position. The box had a rounded frame on top. In the center on the crest was where the saddle was placed. It was like a cross between a mechanical bull and a motorcycle, except there was a cutout near the top of the saddle, conveniently right near the seated figure's head. The sides of the box had stirrups like mechanical bull, presumably for the rider's enjoyment. There were a couple of other lines and notations I didn't understand, but I certainly got the basic gist.

I pointed to the diagram. "So, she sits here, you can't see her, and she can't see you. Clever!" The thought of my husband in the box, servicing a woman he couldn't see started to turn me on again.

"Right. I'm still working out a few details, but I have it basically designed. And I know how to frame it and fiberglass it too," Garry added.

"How on earth am I going to convince her to sit on there?" I asked incredulously.

Again, Garry gave me a smile. "I've thought of that too. You pretend you've been selected to demo a new sex toy for women. There's all kinds of Sybian and vibrator parties; this is just another one. Invite a few other friends so it's legitimate. They can all try it out so nobody is too embarrassed to do it alone."

"Now wait a minute! I said you could eat Helen, not a whole troupe of women!" I protested.

"How do you suppose I would not know who I'm going down on? If it's just Helen who rides, I'll know. If it's you and Helen, I'll recognize the taste and scent of your pussy so I'll know then too. The only way I can not know who it is, is with several women. Besides, if you're okay with me eating one woman anonymously, aren't you okay with me eating more than one? You're the one who does the selection process, so it's totally in your control."
I had to admit, he had me there. If I was going to pimp out my husband's tongue, I would have to do it big time.

Helen

I had a tearful, but useful, night of venting about my awful sex life to my best friend Sam. She was a great friend, and she would do anything for me. She listened patiently, and helped me prop up my fragile ego. My husband Frank never seemed to be interested in sex, and I just wasn't feeling attractive anymore. But I still had urges, and my vibrator just wasn't cutting it these days. Thank God for a friend like her to confide in.

The next week Sam called me up, all bubbly. "Hey, whatcha doing Friday?" she said.

"Not sure, let me look." I grabbed my day timer. "Nothing. Why?"

Sam giggled, "Can you come to a party I'm hosting?"

"Sure! What's the occasion?"

"I've been asked to be a local rep for a new woman's sex toy. I know how things are for you lately, and so I thought you might be especially interested to spice things up."

"You know it girl!"

After a short pause, Sam added, "Say Helen?"

"Yeah?"

"Come wearing a skirt, but no panties."

She couldn't see me over the phone, but I blushed. "Are you serious?"

"It's for the demonstration. I'm asking all the girls to do the same."

"Okay, I guess I can muster up the courage if I'm not the only one. Who else is coming?"

"Oh, you'll know most everyone, but it will be a pretty small party. This isn't the kind of thing I want to spread around, if you know what I mean."

"Sure, gotcha. What time?"

"Around 6 o'clock. I'll have snacks, so you don't need to eat dinner."

"Sounds great—looking forward to it!"

I was wondering about what could be an interesting change of pace for my non-existent sex life. When Friday came around, I left Frank a note telling him I'd be out for the evening with friends. I changed into a red top and a flirty plaid skirt: not a schoolgirl number, but maybe just a little young for me. But what the hell—I couldn't part with it from younger years, and an occasion like this seemed to be a just cause to bring out a little of my inner slut. I made sure to take off my panties too, but I wadded them up and stashed them in my purse just in case.

I got to Samantha's house at six on the dot. Sam welcomed me in and let me to the living room. The light was low, mostly candles and votives, and some soft jazz music was playing with a volume noticeable, but just below conversation level. Scattered around were several trays of appetizers and small nibbles. In the center of the room was a large object, covered by a sheet.

"You're the first girl here. Wine?" Sam asked.

"Please. Do you have anything chilled?"

"I just took a white out of the fridge. I'll go open it and get a couple of glasses." She stepped out for a moment, and came back with two tumblers generously full of Chardonnay. "You'll be wanting this," she said, nodding towards the enormous amount of wine she was handing me.

I was curious. "How did you get Garry out of the house?" I asked.

Sam smiled a big smile, and said "I asked him to do a special project for me."

I laughed. "You're a lucky woman. He really treats you right."

Sam laughed too. "Well, he treats everybody right."

I had to agree. "Yeah, he's always been very nice to me. Probably nicer than my own husband."

Sam turned away for a moment, lifting her hand to her mouth to stifle a cough, and then with a grin said "Well, that's just the kind of guy he is."

The doorbell rang, and Sam went to greet the next guest. It was Misaki, an old friend of Sam's that she had met at work. I had met her a few times before, but we didn't really know each other that well. It seemed that us girls must have been eager to start, since two of her other friends arrived at almost the same time immediately after Misaki. Paige and Georgia were friends of Sam's from college, and I did know them pretty well, having been to a lot of the same parties. It would just be the five of us.

Sam got us all seated, passed around more wine. For a while we had some small talk and expectantly nibbled at the trays of food, and Sam finally said "Well, this is it!" We all laughed and blushed, with the obvious contraption covered on the floor in the middle of us.

She continued. "I've been asked by a distributor for an adult products company to try out a prototype for a revolutionary new sex toy for women. I wanted to pick you all because I know you very well, and since you're all here, I guess you've all got at least some interest in sex." At this she smiled, and gave me a sideways glance.

"Remember, this is just a prototype, so it may be a little rough. The manufacturer is looking for feedback, so be honest and don't hold back. They've also asked us to do demonstrations in a group setting, so I wanted to pick women who could be comfortable with each other. And yes, that means that one of you will be using the device while the other girls watch. I hope that we can move past any embarrassment and treat this as a bonding experience. But I certainly understand if you can't expose yourself like that. If anyone is too freaked out by this, you can go now."

Samantha held the room and scanned around the other girls' faces. We were all a little pink in the face, but nobody said a word. I didn't know if I could or would come in front of the other girls, but at this point I was so horny and so curious, that I wouldn't let fear rule me, so I stayed put. I suspect that the other girls felt the same way.

Tension visibly lifted from Sam's face. "Great! I was hoping you would all stay. Okay, so you've heard of the Sybian, right?"

We all nodded softly, some more emphatic than others.

Sam grasped the sheet covering the object in the center between her fingertips. "The name here is still being worked out, but I present to you the Lickbox!" With that, she pulled the sheet from the device with a flourish.

It was a large white rounded machine with a black leather saddle on top. It was much bigger than a Sybian, and in fact looked more like a mechanical bull. The saddle was a black leather Western saddle, complete with a horn. Dangling below the saddle were couple of long straps with foot rings at the end. At the back were small indents for your feet so you could climb up the thing. On top in front of the saddle were big red and green buttons: one each.

I was the first to pipe up. "Wow. Looks neat, and with the non-mass produced look I can tell it's a prototype. But I don't get it. How does it work?"

Sam pointed to the front of the saddle. "This little velvet part here massages your bits. You know the Shiatsu massage chairs in Bed Bath and Beyond? It's kind of like that, but far more gentle."

I looked where she was pointing, and saw that I had missed the velvet patch in my first glance. The curve of the saddle was such that a woman would have to spread her legs wide to sit. There was a large area cut out from the front of the leather saddle where the saddle sloped up that would easily cover a woman's entire vulva.

"This is why I wanted you all to wear skirts with no panties. You can sit on the Lickbox and get stimulated without anybody else seeing what's happening. Of course, we'll probably see the results!" Sam blurted.

We all giggled, and looked at each other nervously. Most of the girls took big swigs from their remaining wine. Sam reached to the table behind her and grabbed a hat. "I'll ride it first to break the ice. After my ride, you'll grab a number to figure out the order. We all get to ride, for as long as you want. Make sure that you don't say which number you are out loud—we want to keep the suspense. You can make as much noise as you want: this is a party. We should all be having fun!" Sam passed around the hat, and I drew my number. I lucked out—number two!

Sam wasted no time, and climbed up the back of the device, lifting her skirt to fall all around her waist as she seated herself in the saddle. I could tell she had tried out the machine a couple of times already before we came, because she knew exactly where to put her feet in the stirrups, and she grabbed the saddle's horn with confidence.

"The red button turns it on. You have to press it again to turn it off before you step off. Here goes!" she cried, pushing the red button. A small motor sound started, like a fan. It was surprisingly quiet for such a large machine. Samatha's skirt pooled completely around her legs so we couldn't see what was happening, but the machine had definitely started its massage. Sam starting softly moaning, with her head tilted back. She kept her eyes closed, but if she had looked around she would have seen all of her friends staring at her with open-eyed amazement. We were completely silent in rapt attention as she started getting worked up; her hips were rocking back and forth against the machine.