Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 08

"Look at those balls getting all nice and tight!" Janet exclaimed.

"Come on, Holly!" Joanna urged. "Bring him off! You can do it!"

Under normal circumstances I could have varied my grip upon him, and employed inconsistent tempos to regulate his performance, thus preventing my fingers from cramping. As it was, the tryout rules forbade use of any of these devices and therefore my grip slackened a bit. I knew Craig loved a speedy handjob but this was simply not possible now. Instead, I did the next best thing. I gripped his cock just under the glans with thumb and forefinger and used rapid motions to bring him off. When I heard him groan moments later, I knew I had done the right thing.

It was now four minutes into the handjob and I was getting anxious. Judging by Craig's reactions it seemed my ploy had proved effective, but when another thirty seconds elapsed without an ejaculation, my teammates started to panic.

"Do it, Craig!" Zula screamed. "Shoot that fucking cum!"

The others then joined in, shouting at him to release his load of jism. Craig, however, remained unperturbed by all the excitement going on around us. Even when Angelique ungraciously hurled a few vulgar remarks at him, he paid them no mind; his eyes remained focused on the large red marker thirty feet away.

"Ten seconds!" the acolyte shouted.

Oh, my God!I thought to myself.We're going to lose this thing!

I fingered him frantically then, teasing the tiny bit of flesh just under the glans where I knew he was most sensitive.

"Craig!" I exclaimed, looking up into his face.

He made no response. To me it seemed as if he were far away somewhere, his face a study in concentration.

"Eight...seven..." the acolyte continued.

Charlotte and Joanna were holding hands as if in prayer. Time was slipping away. And then I saw a slight smile come across Craig's face.

What the hell are you smiling about?I thought, as I milked him mercilessly.

"Four, three..."

From somewhere behind me I heard a high-pitched squeal. It was Angelique. Her scornful laugh like a slap across my face.

"No!" I screamed aloud, as my tired hands stroked him in an ever-slower rhythm, my hopes for victory as deflated as I knew his prick soon would be.

And then, suddenly, I felt his penis convulse in my slowly stroking hand. From its tip a thick jet of pearly semen shot out with tremendous speed in an ever-increasing trajectory that caught everyone off-guard. And as it flew skyward, an exclamation of awe issued from the crowd, as if they could not believe what they were seeing. For even though my hand was now milking out rope after rope of sperm, the first jet was still in flight, coasting easily over the twenty-foot marker and landing, finally, a few inches beyond it. Before I knew it, my teammates were hugging both Craig and I in a wild frenzy.

"Awesome!" Felicia screeched. "Fucking awesome!"

The acolyte standing nearby confirmed the distance—twenty feet, two inches. It was indeed an incredible cumshot, and everyone, including Craig himself, had been amazed by it.

"I don't know what you did," he said to me. "But whatever it was, you'd better do it during the competition."

"You scared the shit out of me," I replied, somewhat upset at his cavalier attitude. "What took you so long?"

"I've never been under this kind of pressure before. I had to make some mental adjustments."

"Another few seconds and we would have been disqualified."

"I know. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again."

He looked so hurt that I couldn't stay mad at him.

"I'm sorry too," I said. "How could I be angry with a guy who just shot his load halfway across the room? Look, here they come."

The unprecedented feat had attracted the attention of the judges, who along with Lenore, my aunt, and many others, now went to inspect the carpet in person to confirm with their own eyes that Craig's cum had indeed traveled as far as the acolyte had claimed. One of the judges, an attractive brunette who now found herself on hands and knees in front of the twenty-foot marker, almost stuck her face in the whitish puddle as she tried to confirm with her eyes what her brain told her was highly improbable.

"Twenty feet, two inches," she confirmed with a look of disbelief.

Lenore gave Craig a pat on the back. "That was a splendid cumshot," she observed. "You came in just under the wire."

"Thank you, ma'm," Craig replied. "But it was Holly's hand work that did the trick."

"Credit must go to the both of you," my aunt noted. "Congratulations."

Angelique was standing only a few feet away when her mother spoke these words, and although she seemed annoyed at our victory, she was not as displeased as I thought she might have been. She gave me a weak smile and then turned away and returned to her team. The competition now resumed.

Syria, Iceland, Romania, and New Zealand all failed to qualify. Syria and Romania did not reach the minimum distance required and Iceland surpassed the five-minute time limitation. In New Zealand's case, it was discovered that the champion had a hitherto unknown criminal background. It seemed that during an argument between the champion and one of the team members he was romantically involved with, it was revealed in a moment of anger that he had served time in prison on felony charges. The judges spent over a half hour confirming these allegations and once it was proven that he had indeed been convicted of a felony, he and his team were instantly dismissed.

And then it was France's turn.

Jacques LaSalle seemed uncomfortable in his role as champion, which was odd considering that he had won the previous year. He obeyed Angelique's directives and appeared confident and self-possessed, but there was no enthusiasm in his actions. It seemed as if all the energy had been sapped out of him, and all that was left was a facsimile of the once exuberant and virile man I had met weeks earlier tending the vineyards. At one point he caught me looking at him, and he returned my gaze and smiled briefly before bowing his head. Something in his gesture made me feel sorry for him.

Because the other contestants were now crowding around the French team, I told my group to return to our seats where we could watch the final round on the large projection screen. As we took our former seats, a close up of Angelique's face, all grim and determined, appeared on the white backdrop. After speaking a few words to Jacques, she then informed the judges that she was ready to begin. The acolyte then nodded for her to start and her hand quickly enveloped her champion's limp tool.

I could have sworn that the handsome Frenchman wasn't enjoying her insistent pulling very much, yet his prick seemed to have a mind of its own and swelled to its full girth in less than a minute. Angelique's style was very rough and sloppy, so sloppy in fact that several times her hand completely flew right off his cock, making him wince. Despite this, Jacques' prick responded admirably, and another minute later he was groaning aloud, begging for release.

Angelique never looked at him; never said a word. In fact, none of her teammates cheered her or him on either, which I, and nearly everyone else, thought strange. When another minute went by, her boisterous handjob, so carelessly and savagely applied, finally paid off. As she pulled up on him, his cock erupted, sending a massive wad of hot cream flying out across the room. The sperm jet flew over the ten-foot marker and continued on until it landed precisely at the eighteen-foot zone. It was the second best cumshot of the day, but Angelique took it all in stride. I expected her to be dismayed after coming in second to my team, but she seemed to be happy enough. Another apparent enigma I couldn't account for.

The qualifying rounds were now over and seven teams would now move on to the championship contest that would determine the ultimate winner. As the teams and audience dispersed, an announcement was made over the loudspeaker reminding people that dinner would soon be served on the lawn of the west wing.

Although my aunt had spared no expense in catering the affair, it surprised me that a great many people decided to remain in the Masturbatorium after the qualifying rounds had ended. Angelique and her teammates were the first to leave for their training rooms, hardly acknowledging anyone in their haste to depart. Of all the teams, only my own and Italy's attended the dinner party. The rest of them either refused to leave the Masturbatorium or exited en masse to their waiting vehicles at the south entrance. It occurred to me that many of them simply wanted to continue training or go home and rest rather than socialize. I knew this would not go down well with my aunt Phoebe. As it was, my suspicions were confirmed when she approached me on the lawn shortly thereafter looking markedly perturbed.

"You'd think I was offering these people dog food by the way they're avoiding my party. Remind in the future me to spare myself the expense."

"I think they'd rather train, aunt Phoebe."

"Oh, I don't care how much they train. But at least show some courtesy."

"They're more concerned with winning than eating."

My aunt shook her head in dismay. "Well, I think it's disrespectful to not at least show your face. I'm going to say something to Lenore about it."

Before I had a chance to make a reply, a strange woman approached my aunt and led her away by the arm.

My aunt had a point. It was indeed rude for the teams to have not made a least some small attempt to socialize—if only for a short time. She had gone to great trouble and expense to host the contest and their acknowledgment of her efforts would have gone a long way in making her feel appreciated. Thankfully, most of the audience did stay, and I judged that there must have been no fewer than two hundred people in attendance—most of who sat at tables scattered across the lawn.

A huge tent has been set up in the middle of the front lawn from which food was dispensed by a small contingent of waiters. All kinds of meat and fish were available, as were an assortment of fresh fruits, baked goods, and fine chilled wines. I had made conversation with several people before settling down on my lounge chair to enjoy a fruit platter when Craig came to mind. I missed him terribly, but I insisted that he go home and rest for the intense training sessions that were to begin tomorrow morning. I knew that he had a tendency to push himself too hard, often neglecting sleep, to accomplish whatever he set out to do. But sleep was essential if he were to have any chance at winning the contest. He had agreed with my decision, but I knew he was far from happy about it.

A short while later it was announced that some Sisterhood members had just arrived from America. A slew of women rushed to the font gate to greet the visitors, chatting excitedly. Suddenly my aunt came rushing past me, her camera in hand.

"It's Mary Kate and Ashley!" she said out of breath. "And Drew...and...oh my God! Teri!"

In a matter of moments she had disappeared into the waiting crowd.

I was not very much enamored of those people the world had christened "celebrities". And my aunt, for the most part, wasn't either. But there were exceptions when it came to certain stars. And the handful of women who were at this very moment making their way across the front lawn were part of that select few: beautiful, intelligent, women possessed of a particular genuineness and warmth that separated them from the common form of popular entertainers. As the exultant nucleus of women advanced toward the huge tent, I laid back in my lounge chair, amused by the enormous amount of attention paid to these famous Sisters. I was hoping that once the commotion had subsided a bit, I would try and speak to some of them—especially Ashley, whom I greatly admired. She was my own age and had already accomplished great things, especially in the realm of humanitarianism. It seemed to me that there was nothing either her—or her sister—could not accomplish.

The sound of a chair being moved toward me got my attention. It was Lenore.

"I would like to speak with you for a moment," she said smiling faintly.

She took her seat next to me and carefully adjusted her hair. I wondered why she had chosen this moment to strike up a conversation, especially with the arrival of our famous guests.

"You and I are not easily impressed are we?" she began, as the entourage found its way under the tent.

"I'm impressed by a person's character, not by their status."

"As well you should," she readily agreed. "As weallshould."

Just then a huge roar of laughter emitted from the crowd and from the center of the group appeared Ashley, looking radiant in her lovely white dress and long blonde hair. One of the more zealous Sisters had taken it upon herself to bestow the twin with a protracted hug and kiss, which sent the surprised girl looking for relief.

"She is so beautiful," I said as I watched her laughingly fend off the excited fan.

"Ashley?" Lenore asked, following my gaze. "Yes, she is. She is also very smart and has a heart as big as the ocean. Mary Kate too. Both exemplary people. You will find them valuable allies once I am gone."

I turned my attention fully upon her, studying her face. "But that won't be for a long time yet."

"Not as long as you may think."

There was a certain finality in her voice that I found disarming.

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath and let her gaze sweep over the crowd, who were still congealed in one spot under the tent with the celebrities. Lenore and I seemed to be the only two people who had seemed to avoid getting all caught up in the commotion.

"I'll come straight to the point, Holly. And you will forgive me if I'm blunt. But the truth is, I can no longer continue as leader of the Sisterhood. I am therefore effectively resigning my position as soon as your aunt Phoebe has been installed as interim leader. Her official indoctrination ceremony takes place in a few weeks. It's just a formality, but I need someone I can trust to handle things until you are ready to take over."

This news hit me like a ton of bricks. I had no idea that she was going to hand over the leadership to me so soon. I knew it was coming in due time, but I was not prepared for it to be dumped in my lap, as it were, without any warning whatsoever. For a moment I simply sat there looking at her dumbly, not knowing what to say.

"I don't understand," I finally blurted out. "Why are you resigning?"

"I'm getting on in years, and I just don't have the energy anymore. And I do have plans for my life beyond the Sisterhood."

I thought this strange considering that she had spent the better part of her life in service to the Sisterhood.

"You see, Holly," she continued, "a rift has been forming in the Sisterhood for some time now. And Angelique is in the center of it. You know this. She will soon make her bid for power, and the Sisterhood will need a leader with youth and energy—someone from the outside who has not been corrupted by Sisterhood politics—to fight her. That person is you."

For the longest time I had never understood why Lenore had chosen me to be her successor, given so many other competent women who were available to take on the job. But now I was beginning to understand. As a relative outsider, I was immune from the petty associations that must inevitably develop over time within such an organization as the Sisterhood. I was not a member of any particular clique, nor was I partial to any subgroup within the organization. I was literally an "unblemished" member who, because of my kinship with my aunt and mentorship by Lenore, was virtually beyond reproach. In this type of "sacrosanct" status I could lead the Sisterhood with a great degree of fairness and impartiality, as I had no allegiance to anything except the Sisterhood itself.

"I told you I would accept the responsibility," I reminded her. "But this is all happening too fast. I need time to make arrangements back home."

"That is why I am handing over power to your aunt. So that you can put your affairs in order. But you can't wait too long. It is imperative that you assume the reigns of power as soon as possible. As much as I love Phoebe, Angelique is still her child."

"Do you think my aunt would betray you?"

"No. The poor woman knows by now that her daughter must never become leader of the Sisterhood, but she may use her power to show favoritism toward Angelique. After all, it's not in any mother's nature to harm their own child. Certainly not in Phoebe's case anyway."

"You're putting her in a very difficult position."

Lenore chuckled softly. "She knows that. But I have the utmost faith in her, as I do you."

She rose from her chair and looked toward the mass of people who were now dispersing out over the lawn, their preoccupation with the stars now somewhat abated.

"One thing more," she said leaning over me. "Your aunt loves you and would never hurt you. But in the event that she cannot be with you, for whatever reason, I have given you a great and powerful ally to assist you."

"Charlotte," I said, almost without thinking.

Lenore gave me a knowing smile. "She is a visionary like us. And she has a deep and abiding dislike for Angelique. That's a plus in my book."

"Mine too," I said. "And I'm glad to have her on my side. But I am going to miss you very much."

Lenore laughed aloud and lowered her hand to gently touch my face. "Oh, I'll be around. Don't think I'm just going to vanish into thin air. I'm still a Sister and I have many powerful friends. And you will need all of them before long."

She was implying, of course, that I was in for a bitter struggle. But despite the air of foreboding I was feeling toward the imminent war with Angelique, her words brought me great reassurance.

"Just remember," she said, as she leaned over me and planted a gentle kiss on my head. "You are never alone."

With that she turned her back on me and headed toward the direction of the tent.

My aunt was now personally attending to the needs of the small group of celebrities, and although I wanted to be sociable, I was somewhat averse to crowds and the inevitable feeling of claustrophobia that developed from being enclosed within a wall of people—especially overeager women demanding attention from their idols. I decided I would wait a little longer until their fascination with the stars wore off and then I would say hello.

I had met all these celebrities before, so the novelty of merely being in their presence had long since worn off. The Sisters who had not been as fortunate as I gushed and deferred to the celebrities repeatedly, which made me laugh aloud. Some of these Sisters, who had a reputation for being anal-retentive, control freaks, acted like little giggling schoolgirls in the presence of these luminaries. They beamed and blushed just to be near the exalted ones, and some of the more persevering of the group had to be told to back off by my aunt Phoebe and Lenore when it became obvious that such obsequious attention was beginning to annoy the stars.

Teri and Drew, with their many years of experience in handling crowds of fans, withstood the onslaught of devotion admirably; Ashley and Mary Kate, less well. The twin sisters, who were now twenty-one years of age and whom had shed their little girl shyness long ago, were adept at handling themselves perfectly well at orchestrated events where they could address their fans either from a respectable distance or from the safety of a protected environment. But having grown women insinuating themselves upon you in pell-mell fashion was another matter. Ultimately, my aunt demanded that the stars be left in peace to eat and drink and, although disappointed, the devotees soon dispersed.