Frank & John, Not Lovers Ch. 04

Phoebe undid a large, gold-plated belt-buckle, loosened her wide black leather belt, then unbuttoned, and lowered, her maroon trousers. Out popped a large black dildo. It was attached firmly over Phoebe's crotch, thanks to a brown leather harness that was designed to give the wearer as much control as possible. Straps circled Phoebe's waist and upper thighs. The taut leather was buckled firmly, digging visibly into Phoebe's pale flesh. It looked uncomfortable, but Frank knew that the discomfort was worth it: it would also give her the necessary leverage to maneuver the enormous phallus precisely. Frank had used the same contraption to penetrate Phoebe, after all.

"Rape her throat!" the crowd began to chant.

Phoebe clasped both hands, firmly, around the back of Frank's head. Using this new-found leverage, she tried to roughly force the dildo past Frank's lips. Frank kept her mouth clamped tightly shut, causing the sex toy to slide awkwardly past her left cheek. A collective groan arose from the crowd.

In apparent response to this mass expression of disappointment, a hole formed in the human circle surrounding the two young women. Striding through this temporary orifice, a tall, thin woman appeared. Her long, dyed blond hair was tied up into a bun and she was wearing a dark red ringmaster's outfit with black trim. She crouched down behind Frank's head, her tailcoat bunching up on the dance floor. Frank could not see as the severe woman placed metal hooks in either side of her mouth. They had a slightly acrid taste. The ringmaster pulled gently but firmly on leather straps attached to each hook, and buckled them firmly behind Frank's head. The apparatus dug into Frank's skin, and she could no longer fully close her mouth. Phoebe, once again, encircled her hands around the back of Frank's head, clasping her fingers over the metal buckle, and thrust the head of phallus past Frank's now parted lips.

Frank woke up.

Frank's dream did not fade as John's had. She remembered it in its entirety, even as the minutes passed. The unusual events portrayed in the dream had not disturbed her, either, even though she would never consent to wearing a gag of any kind in real life. Clearly, she felt, the plot had been inspired by the final time that she and Phoebe had made love. Frank used the words "Phoebe hate-fucked my throat" when, a few days later, she described the lovemaking session to Debbie.

Frank was aroused by the dream, the first sex dream she had had since the break up. Her heart was pounding and the material of her boxer shorts felt damp between her thighs. She probed with a speculative finger. It moved easily past her moist labia, and encountered equally little resistance as she pushed into her vaginal opening. Everything was soaking wet. Encouraged, she decided she would recreate the aborted ending of the dream. "If it got me feelin' like this, I ain't gonna over-think shit," Frank reasoned.

The strap-on paraphernalia that Dream Phoebe had been wearing was familiar. It closely matched the real-world version that Frank had experience with as both as giver and receiver. She wished she had it now, so that she could pick up where the dream had left off. The gear, however, had been Phoebe's, who had pointedly taken it with her when she stormed out of the house. Frank was at a momentary loss. She had many sex toys of her own, but none were suitable for deep throating. Principally, none of them resembled a phallus, not even a stylized one. She had strict boundaries about what form any object she put in pussy could take. Even a short, narrow vibrator, for example, was too penis-like and made her feel uncomfortable. She had only crossed this line once, with Phoebe. She had vowed never to allow it to be crossed again.

This very restriction was to provide the fuel for an increasingly heated series of verbal battles between the two of them. Phoebe accused Frank, in their penultimate fight, of being a "control freak" and complained that she herself never got to be "in charge." Frank had to concede the latter point, but was offended by the former. Her stance was that setting boundaries about her own body should not be labeled as "controlling", and she had always respected any and all of Phoebe's (admittedly few) boundaries.

Phoebe had retorted with the childish yet unassailable assertion, "That's what a control freak would say."

The argument continued on in the same vein, and it seemed as if they might end their relationship right then and there. In an attempt to rescue the situation, Frank proposed the idea of having make-up sex. Frank would let Phoebe be "in charge" by allowing Phoebe to have free reign over her throat.

"You can literally do anything to it, Fee," Frank had offered.

Unlike her vagina, Frank did not have any particular boundaries about this portion of her anatomy. She felt no qualms about taking objects inside her mouth or down her throat, phallus-like or not. Phoebe was mollified, at first, by this concession. Thus, no lines were crossed, for either of them, and both young women enjoyed themselves passionately for the next forty minutes. Frank remembered feeling, briefly, that the make-up sex had worked.

But it had not. After showering together, they returned to Frank's bed and, exhausted, spooned with each other. Phoebe was behind, nuzzling Frank's neck, and she placed her hands on Frank's breasts. Frank pushed her hands away. Her boobs were not to be touched.

Another fight, even worse than the one they had just had, ensued. It ended badly, with Phoebe, carrying all of her belongings, strap-on paraphernalia dangling from the crook of her right elbow, slamming the front door in Frank's face. Frank had not seen or heard from her since, despite periodic attempts to call and text her.

Memories of this both wonderful yet horrible night of sex and conflict bubbled up into Frank's consciousness, as she replayed the dream in her head. While painful, the resurgent recollections proved serendipitous in one respect. They reminded Frank of a solution to the problem of the missing dildo. When Phoebe had forced the large black toy past Frank's painfully stretched lips, Frank now remembered comparing it to one of her mom's. Debbie had once shown her a light tan dildo of her own during a candid mother-daughter sex talk. It was about the same size as its black counterpart. Her mom would surely not mind if she borrowed the tan phallus, assuming it was still in her possession.

Frank exited her room. She slunk stealthily up to John's closed bedroom door, and listened to see if he was awake. Not hearing anything, she assumed that he was sleeping. Moments later she had padded her way across the length of the house and was in her mom's room, the master suite.

One wall of the suite consisted of floor-to-ceiling, mirrored sliding doors. Frank slid back the rightmost door, revealing a built-in dresser. She opened its large bottom drawer, with some difficulty, and it was filled to the brim with a disorderly pile of sex toys. Frank was disappointed not to see the big tan dildo among them. She dug around to confirm that it was not just buried in there. "Did mom take it with her?" she wondered. Frustrated, she slammed the drawer shut. The drawer immediately above it opened several inches.

Frank breathed a sigh of relief. In the slightly-opened drawer above she could the tail ends of a number of dildos. She opened the drawer fully and her jaw practically dropped. The left-most one was, Frank estimated, around six or seven inches long, and the longest one, all the way on the right, was a little over a foot in length. Frank paused for a moment when she realized that there were no empty spaces in the drawer, implying that Debbie had not taken one with her on her long work trip. "That's weird for her," Frank thought, frowning. Her mom, normally, used one every day, as far as Frank knew.

Discovering this unfortunate detail added yet another weight to Frank's shoulders. Debbie had, understandably, seemed especially depressed since her divorce. But even before then, Frank, had been growing increasingly concerned. With hindsight, she could now trace the seeds of Debbie's present malaise to when John and his family moved away, two years earlier.

Seeing that her mom would willing go without her favorite type of toy, for weeks on end, palpably increased Frank's anxiety level. Her mom had explained, on several prior occasions, that she could only have orgasms using long and thick toys. The tan one, which was in the middle of the pack at around eight inches in length and two inches in diameter, was the smallest such toy that worked, according to her mom. Leaving all of them behind had serious implications. Debbie was a firm believer in sexual health, and had drilled into her daughter the importance of regular orgasms.

Frank briefly considered, then rejected, the notion that Debbie might be planning to hook up with some stranger during the trip. This seemed unlikely. Debbie had gone thru a series of fruitless, short-lived relationships immediately after separating from Will. But that had ceased months ago. Shaking herself, the still-horny Frank forced herself to put thoughts of her mom aside. She actually had a plan to help her mom, but it did not need any immediate attention.

Frank's fingers were just about to brush the supple body of the tan dildo. Then she paused. Something about its slightly-larger neighbor to the right had caught her eye. It was the only item in the drawer to feature a suction cup. She had been worried about how to mount the tan one such that she could readily force it down her own throat. For maximal erotic effect, she wanted to mimic her body position from the dream. The black dildo could be mounted at the proper height to facilitate Frank being on her hands and knees.

There was a downside, however. The dark beast was nearly ten inches in length and, compared to the other, an additional half-inch in diameter. She opted to take it anyway, despite the unwelcome added bulk. Other than being frighteningly big, it was perfect for her purpose. She immediately christened the large black dildo "King Dong" and hoped Debbie would let her keep it for a while. In her excitement, she forgot to close the dresser drawer before leaving her mom's suite.

She crept quietly back towards her own bedroom door. On the way, she paused outside John's door: still nothing. She passed through her own doorway, then hesitated. Frank disliked closed doors. She was not aware of any specific reason for this and was not one to psychoanalyze herself; she just preferred not to shut them unless absolutely necessary. Still, given what she was about to do, it seemed best to make an exception. "His little brain couldn't handle it right now," Frank thought to herself.

Frank's room featured a smaller version of the master suite's mirrored closet. Frank got down on her hands and knees in front of the far left-hand side. She crawled forward until she could lick the closet door's mirrored surface, leaving behind a small amount of her saliva. Then she lapped her tongue on King Dong's suction cup. Frank was momentarily surprised by the mildly salty, but not unpleasant, taste that accompanied the anticipated rubbery taste of the suction cup. Then she realized that the added flavor must have come from someone's saliva, presumably Debbie's. After five more licks the suction cup still seemed too dry. Frank was worried it would come off under the vigorous pressure she intended to apply. She spat several times on the suction cup, then, using her tongue like a paint brush, spread her spit as evenly as possible over the rubbery membrane. Satisfied with her efforts, she mounted the dildo firmly over the wet patch on the mirror. She batted twice at King Dong to make sure it would not detach from the smooth glass surface.

Frank now surveyed her personal sex toy collection. Like her mom, she had also devoted a drawer to the purpose. Frank paused for a minute, then selected a toy she had affectionately christened "TPD", which was an acronym for "The Pussy Drop." It was a light blue, lozenge-shaped toy, slightly larger than her own thumb. The "lozenge" was attached, via an insulated wire, to a combination battery pack and control switch, itself about the size and shape of a cigarette lighter. The instruction manual had been in Japanese only, but it was not hard to figure out how to use it. "Stick it in and turn it on," had been Frank's precise thoughts when she bought it. There was a four-way switch on the controller which allowed it to either be turned off, or else vibrate at one of three different levels of intensity.

She inserted the lozenge easily into her still-wet vaginal canal positioning it so that the vibrations would reach her G-spot. From experience, she knew it was likely to move around and would probably have to adjust its position several times. Then she set it to the lowest vibration level and let out an involuntary, audible groan. "That dream," though Frank, "Fee's still in my head."

She had positioned her body such that her feet could push against the platform of her bed. Frank had convinced her mom to buy her a king-sized bed after the divorce. This had been during the same period of free-spending retail therapy in which Debbie had purchased the massive television and other luxury goods. The bed took up more than half of Frank's modestly-sized room. Her feet could easily push against the solid baseboard that ran along its perimeter. She would not have to extend her body outside of her hands-and-knees position from the dream. She got back down on all fours and placed her lips on the tip of King Dong. She paused. Up close, it looked gargantuan. The surface of the mirror was a full ten inches away, and Frank felt intimidated by its thickness as well. Phoebe's smaller dildo had made Frank gag and choke; this would be worse.

"Fuck it, I never back down," she thought. She reached her left hand down between her thighs, grabbing TPD's control unit with a practiced motion. She pushed the control switch downwards with her thumb, increasing the vibrations inside her vagina to the third, maximal, setting. The sudden increase in intensity made her open her mouth and gasp involuntarily. Without missing a beat, she pushed her head forward with as much force as she could muster. The tip of the dildo pushed past her teeth and lodged in the back of her throat. The realistic glans was firmly lodged near her tonsils. Frank started to gag. The phallus was so wide that there was almost no room for anything else. It was pushing outwards against the side of her molars, and her tongue was flattened into the floor of her mouth. What space remained was filled with saliva. Frank took a deep breath through her nose and pushed hard with her feet. She kept her neck muscles tight. The massive head of the dildo, though, would not budge past the entrance to her throat. Frank tried this for several minutes before conceding defeat.

"Phoebe had better leverage," thought Frank, as she tried to visualize the real-life blowjob. Frank, naked save a dark purple sports bra, had been kneeling in front of Phoebe. Phoebe was completely naked aside from the leather harness around her waist and upper thighs. Unlike Frank, her high, widely-spaced, handfull-sized breasts were bared.

Frank's face was aligned with the dildo. Phoebe grabbed the back Frank's head, firmly, with both hands, and used her hips to thrust the tip of the dildo into Frank's unprepared, virgin throat. Even on the first thrust, the glans slid painfully past Frank's uvula and tonsils. It stopped two inches into her throat. She felt like she was about to vomit. It took every fiber of her being not to push back on Phoebe's hips. Frank knew she was the stronger of the two of them and could easily get relief this way. But she was sincere about wanting to give everything she could to her girlfriend.

Only when Frank nearly passed out did Phoebe withdraw the tip of the dildo back into Frank's mouth. Once Frank caught her breath, however, Phoebe pitilessly thrust the toy forward once more. This time it stopped three inches into Frank's throat. Now Phoebe began to rhythmically pull back one inch, pause, then push forward again. Whenever Phoebe thought that Frank was about to pass out, she would give her lover some relief by pulling the tip up past her uvula, but only until it seemed that Frank had just caught her breath. Frank lost count of how many times Phoebe repeated this process. It must have gone on for at least fifteen minutes. She felt like she had the worst sore throat of her life, except magnified tenfold.

By the time Phoebe was done, however, Frank was not focused on the intense discomfort in her mouth and esophagus. Frank felt proud. She had an athlete's mentality towards physical adversity. She had been hurt many times on the basketball court, and had learned to ignore pain and stay focused on in-game objectives. In one of her most memorable games, the fifteen-year-old Frank completed a come-from-behind victory with a triumphant three-pointer, the last play of the game. Only when the buzzer sounded had Frank noticed the blistering pain that was lancing up from an area near her left foot. She passed out and woke up in the hospital. She had in fact torn ankle ligaments a full two minutes before her magnificent final shot sailed through the basket.

By the end of the deep throat session with Phoebe, she was able to engulf most of the dildo. It went so deep into her body that only one inch of space remained between Frank's lips and Phoebe's harness. Frank's nose and chin were drenched in own her sticky saliva. She looked up at Phoebe's face and saw there a look of intense satisfaction. This made Frank's heart soar.

"I'll do that whenever you want, as long as you want," she told Phoebe at the time.

Phoebe beamed and ran one hand through Frank's hair, the other hand still firmly holding the back of her head.

Now, in the present moment, Frank was anything but proud of herself. After working at it for a while longer, she remained unable to force the dildo past her tonsils. Frank realized it was futile to attempt this by herself, at least not that night. Perhaps later she could research how to deep throat a giant sex toy by oneself. Or perhaps she could get John to help her push it down her throat, if he promised not to freak out. Tonight, though, she was too tired. Compounding her dejected mood was the realization that she not had, at any point, had an orgasm. TPD's furious vibrations had come close, at one point, but had failed to take her over the edge. She withdrew the toy and put it back in the drawer along with King Dong. "Tonight, officially, sucks balls," Frank thought.

Although failing to bring her to climax, TPD had not failed in stimulating Frank's bladder. She needed to pee, badly. She pulled up her boxer shorts and padded back into hallway. Here she was surprised to find that, unlike before, John's bedroom door was wide open. The bathroom door, on the other hand, was closed. Frank wondered if John had been able to hear any noises from her room. "I hope he didn't hear anything that would damage his innocent psyche," she thought, then added, "Hey at least I haven't lost my sense of humor!"

From within the bathroom Frank could hear the shower running. There was only one explanation for why John would be taking a shower in the middle of the night. "That fucker! He's getting himself off again already," she thought, She felt as competitive about this as she would about any athletic endeavor. To get him back, she stood, patiently, in front of the door; the tip of her nose touched the wood. She was as silent as a cat stalking a mouse. After a minute, she could clinking sounds, probably from John removing the shower nozzle from the holder. Then the sound of the shower abated. She could hear some kind of shuffling, presumably from John drying off and getting dressed. The door opened and a startled-looking John was standing right in front of her, wearing boxers and a t-shirt.