Games SOME People Play! Ch. 09

"Am I still a prisoner?" asked Susan. She turned, still kneeling at my knees. Her mouth and chin were slick. So were the ends of her breasts; I concluded that she had been playing with them while her mouth was servicing me.

Both Stephanie and Sandra were examining me. I think I had swollen to some kind of personal record—a personal best of about eight-and-a-half inches. My prick was so stiff I could feel my pulse throbbing in it. I hoped my mother-in-law and sister-in-law were proud of Susan.

Sandra said, "Well, it's Tommy's birthday. I think he has some choice in the matter."

Stephanie nodded. I noticed she was squeezing together her thighs, rhythmically. I think I know what she had being doing while she watched Susan do me. She said, "Tommy's choice, but I want to watch Susan's face when she comes."

"Oh, naturally," said Susan. You too Mom, right?"

"Well, if Steph is going to ..."

I said, "Okay, love. Just get up, right there, and bend over. Put your hands on the coffee table."

Susan had one hand on the table already, as she rose from the floor. "Oh, I'm getting it from behind?"

"So they can watch your face," I said. I added thoughtfully, "I also I think it's very exciting to watch a woman's breasts jouncing and clapping together while she's getting banged. Especially hanging ones."

"Good point," said Susan. She already was in place.

Sandra said, "Your head is hanging down, Susan. All we see is blond hair."

"Oops!" Susan looked up. From where I was, it seemed as though she had launched a stare-down contest with her sister.

I rose from the chair, aware that all eyes were on the war club I swung in front of me. Looking at three beautiful naked women, all different, didn't wilt it a bit. As I positioned myself behind Susan, my palms on her curvy haunches, I said, "Don't expect me to last long."

"Oh, okay, then I'm going to rub my clit," said Susan. She added, "Assuming that's all right with my captors."

"I might rub mine, too," said Stephanie thoughtfully, as though saying, "Maybe the salad, for me, too." She turned to Sandra, "You, Mom?"

"Most certainly not!" said Sandra. "I probably will when I'm by myself. I don't mean that I find this un-erotic..." And then, "No one but your father ever saw me come."

Susan moaned. I had started abruptly and when you shove in more than eight inches, the vagina knows it. "Oh, slower, slower," gasped Susan—but they all say that. Maybe because men love to hear it. Of course, I rammed her a bit harder.

"Oh, careful, Tommy," said Sandra from the sidelines.

Susan's tone, although her voice was breathy as her big body jolted forward, then backward, was reproachful—but mostly embarrassed. "Mom! I can watch out for my own cunt! This isn't our first time, you know!"

"Sorry," said Sandra humbly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Jeez!" gasped Susan, and I couldn't tell if she was replying to her Mom or my prick, which felt to me even larger, now.

Stephanie said, "I'm watching Tommy's face, too. He makes such funny expressions! Every time he really slams Susan, his tongue comes out!"

With rather rhythmic gasps, Susan managed to get out: "Stephanie, I can't see what you're doing to yourself... Oh! Oh! Why don't you... Uh! Spread'em... Oh, wait, Tommy! Uh! Spread'em, I mean...oh! You've spied...ah! On me since I was 18...oh!"

Agreeable Stephanie lifted her knees, resting one small foot up on either side of the coffee table at her end. Not enough. She moved one foot over to an easy chair. Now, she was fully on display. We could see all her good work, the unkempt patch of sandy bush soaked on either side, and, in the exposed center, the light pink button of her little clit fiercely pushing out of its cowl and the stem above it swollen enough to see for an inch or more. She had lifted away her hands, as though to say, "Walla!" and looked at us for approbation.

"Sizzling pussy, Sis," gasped Susan.

"Oh, God," I moaned. "I know I'm not going to last long!"

"Hey," said ever-enthusiastic Stephanie. "I can help out on that! Watch!" She jumped up, came around the coffee table, a big grin on her face.

"Steph, what the fuck are you...?" gasped Susan.

Stephanie had slipped behind me, sat in the easy chair. It was a cinch, now, for her to reach between my parted legs. I felt the small hand wrap around my balls, a nice, hefty handful, pulling them down a little, so I felt my foreskin inside Susan stretch. "What is this?" I gasped.

"See!" and she gave my nuts a squeeze—hard! Just as I cried out, she started to roll my berries together in her hand—hard! That has to be the most disconcerting sensation—if you've ever felt it.

"No!" I yelped. "No!"

"Steph!" Susan snapped.

"My balls!" I yelled.

"See," said Steph, pedantically, "are you still as close?"

I wasn't.

"Steph," said Susan, straining to look down beneath her body, between the pendant boobs, to see what was happening. She said: "Will you please let go of my husband's equipment, so I can finish getting fucked? And go back to where you were? I was loving watching you play with your clit."

"I had no idea that this operation could be so complicated," remarked Sandra drily. "Imagine back when it was just a man and his wife lying in bed."

Stephanie had resumed her position. How shall I say this? I was off my stride. Still wildly aroused, um...psychologically... But my balls ached. I mean, when you feel you're the bull, rampant, the cow beneath you a mere quivering vessel, your member ruling all... And then a small hand turns you into a whimpering supplicant...

"Well, it is softer, now," I said, my tone adequately vexed, I'm sure.

"It works!" boasted Stephanie from the other side of the coffee table, her legs again shamelessly flung open, with two fingers at work. Right then, her beautiful little pixie face began to change, the mouth open wide, the eyes begin roll up in her head, and she was panting. That was fast! Her fingers slid madly over her slick pink clit.

That did wonders for me. I began to jolt Susan's big ass, again, taking it easy. But then, I noticed that Susan was making small gasping noises, breathing hard. I got it: My wife had kept working herself right through the drama! I mean, while little sis was grinding hubby's big nuts. Little sis was spread into maximum yoga stretch. Showing big sis her hot little cunt.

"Oh!" Susan cried out. "Fuck me, Tommy! Shit! Oh, that's it! Shit!" Not eloquent, but somehow expressive.

That informed my vigilant dick it didn't have to wait any longer and it rushed to catch up with Susan's orgasm. I vaguely perceived that Stephanie had finished-off her orgasm... Now, she jumped up, again, hastily edged around the coffee table, and, with a wild smile, reached under Susan's chest...

"Jeez, Steph!" Susan protested. "No! No, not my titties! Oh, God, yes, you're killing me! Shit!" The very ample ass was bucking back at me and jerking side to side--anything to bring her cunt in hard contact with my prick.

"Steph, no! Oh, that's beautiful! Eeeee... Don't pull them off, you stupid cunt! Oh..."

I stood there, still now, attending my final divine spasm, my dick hot inside Susan. Her ass was shifting sedately, now, bringing herself down.

She lifted a hand to her chest and said crossly, "Jeez, you ruined me, Steph! They're only nipples, you know! You handled them like wing nuts you had to tighten with pliers! Are they going to turn black, now?"

"Sorry, Sis," said naked Stephanie, standing beside us humbly. "I'm a little into S&M, you know."

"Well...it did make my orgasm crazy. I wonder why."

"Want to haul my hands up to the ceiling with the rope and you and Tommy can take turns whipping off my fat ass?"

Susan sighed. "Not this visit, Steph."

"Did you ever whip a babe's tits? Wow!"

"Nope. Have you?"

"Sure, Angelina's, for one. I used a Ping Pong paddle and kept splashing them with ice water. She was speaking in tongues before I finished with her. I can't believe what I did to her poor chest."

No longer impaled, Susan straightened up, but slowly, arching her back. She glanced down at what she had thrust out in front. She said, "Angelina had such perfect little ones. What's the point of beating the shit out of them?"

"Same as beating the shit out of your jugs, I guess."

"Maybe sometime," said Susan vaguely. "But not with a Ping Pong paddle. Maybe one of those super-soft leather floggers."

"Yeah! How about when we get together for Christmas?"

Sandra piped up, "Oh, no! I don't..."

"Kidding, Mom!" said Stephanie. "For Christ's sake, kidding."

"Oh!"

"Jeez! What do think I am? I mean, let's not forget, I was invited here by Susan, expecting a weekend with my friends, and I find Tommy strung up, and he starts goading me..."

"Stephanie!" warned Sandra. She gave her a withering look, meaningfully shaking her head.

"Well," said Susan, taking a deep breath, "that's all history. I think the party's over, for now, girls. I don't think Tommy will forget his big 30."

"See, your plan did work," said Sandra, ever-seeking to hail successes on the part of her daughters.

"The plan didn't work, Mom," said Susan, a bit wearily. "The plan was all in my mind, but, I'll tell you, I was so sure it would work. I mean, I was thinking of it for weeks!"

"Weeks?" I asked.

"Yup!" She was walking over to the cabinets beside the fireplace. She bent and swung open a door, giving us a look at a sublimely rounded ass above perfect legs, and, cuddled between them, a dark, enticing slit. She was saying. "I had hoped this would record the orgy and we could laugh about it when Tommy and I celebrate our fiftieth!" She chuckled appreciatively at her joke. Somehow, the rest of us did not appreciate the humor.

She straightened up, holding a silver disk. "She gestured at the top of the bookshelf that dominated the room. "See that little circle up there? There, right between the red book and the orange one! You'd never notice it. That's the lens. I paid a guy $1,500"—she glanced at me—"sorry baby, my own money, and I did it for your birthday... $1,500 to install the camera so I could record it all, for us."

Sandra, Stephanie, and I, standing more or less in a row, bare ass but oblivious, stared at the disk in Susan's hand as though she held a loaded pistol.

"Oh, yeah!" she assured us. "The recorder is down there," pointing at the cabinet.

"Anyway," she sighed, shrugging, "I have the whole day on disk, but it isn't going to be XXX rated, I guess..."

She bent over and pushed the disk into the DVD player. "Let's just watch when Mom changes into her birthday suit, okay?"

She clicked on the TV.

"Susan," Sandra began, but petered out.

Susan had lifted a hand to shush her. On the screen, Stephanie walked into the living room, the very room where we stood, now, and spotted me. And we heard her say: "What have we here?"

"Here we go!" said Susan happily.