High Tea

The silence persisted and thickened like tapioca pudding. The sunshine was hot, the air like warm molasses with a hidden icy tinge.

Angela sighed, and then they looked at one another. Kirk didn't seem to notice. Then, slowly, as if choreographed, the two of them stood up. Angela spoke first. "Kirk?" He looked up, mildly startled. "Janet and I have been talking. Comparing our personal histories. Comparing notes. We have some interesting findings..."

Kirk flushed very nearly beet-red, looked back and forth between them, then away to the far horizon. He didn't seem inclined to say anything.

Janet took over and spoke next, looking at Angela to make sure what she said was okay with her: it was, judging from the tiny little grin on Angela's face. "We have a proposition. You have ten seconds to think about it. We blindfold you right here and now and you stay perfectly silent for the rest of the afternoon, and you are our slave, to do whatever we want. Until we say otherwise. Lunch was a good start. Accept that plan, and we don't bug you, now or ever, with what we discussed. Otherwise, your life could get very, very interesting. We could be really NASTY, most likely! Will you accept?" She began counting down from ten: at eight, Angela chimed in to count along, and reached over to hold Janet's hand. Kirk's eyes widened. Then, at "two" he nodded, and whispered "I agree!"

Janet's bandanna made a fine blindfold. Their first instruction was simple: Angela told him, "Strip. Naked. Slowly. Put on a little show for us." Kirk was, clearly, painfully embarrassed, but he did a crude bump and grind, complete with a couple of pirouettes in slow motion. First went his tee-shirt, then belt and hiking shorts, leaving just his jockey shorts and boots. The two women watched, giggling slightly at his mild clumsiness. His chest was flushed red. Janet wondered if - at least in part - the flush were sexual? He paused with thumbs hooked in the waistband, looking very Li'l-Abner-ish himself in big boots and heavy socks, and white undies. He had a thundering great erection, covered but not hidden by the thin cotton briefs. He waited for several seconds, then took a deep breath and dropped the underwear, stepped carefully out of them. His cock sprang free, stood smartly to attention in the sunlight, bobbed. He dropped the underwear and stood there. Long, lean runners-legs, flat belly - and a blue-steel hardon begging for attention.

Janet and Angela looked at one another, then back at the urgent cock before them. Janet whispered "You know, he really hasn't changed very much in nearly forty years! This is one of the reasons, outside his brain, that I kept coming back, I guess. A nearly-permanent hardon, great body, and knowledge of how to use both. It's rare, dammit! I envy you, Dearie!"

Angela was nonplussed. She was expecting to be, she OUGHT to be, both embarrassed and screamingly jealous. This was now HER MAN, wasn't it? But Kirk and Janet did have that long, long history. So why wasn't she upset, sitting here "semi-sharing" her man with his old lover... sharing at least visually and (perhaps?) a little bit emotionally as well? She thought about it as she watched the tip of Kirk's cock bounce with his pulse. Finally, she decided that it must be the agreed-upon depersonalization. She was actually contemplating this body before her not as her lover, but as a fucking machine. The ultimate dildo, as Janet had put it so nicely. Kirk's being blindfolded, plus his silence, heightened the objectification. It put her into a very odd, trancelike state. It was, she finally decided, rather FUN in a mildly perverse way!

Angela finally managed to find her voice: "Thanks, yes, it's rare!" Then, "Well, that certainly is a nice-enough hardon, isn't it? Looks serviceable and all that."

Janet nodded in agreement: Kirk just stood there, as ordered, silent. Then Janet reached out and twanged the cantilevered tube. "I suppose - or at least, I can HOPE -" she said, "that it might be capable of staying that way long enough to service two horny middle-aged botanists."

Angela's stomach did a major flip as she watched the familiarity of that contact, watched this other woman fondle HER man. Disconcerting, yes: panic-inducing, no. That was interesting. The depersonalization held: the nice cock-thing on the big two-legged dildo had a perfectly fine "twang-factor". "But..." said Angela as she looked first at Janet, then at Kirk, "...I don't think there is any reason to give it permission to have its OWN enjoyment. That is, not until it has totally satisfied its constituency, and not until it gets actual permission to come. What do you think, Janet?"

Janet agreed heartily, grinned, and reached out to clasp Angela's hand. Angela's brain buzzed: what a tableau! What the hell was she doing, anyhow? Why was her belly suddenly in such a stupendous uproar? High-altitude adventure! Perhaps she was a little hypoxic? She muttered "I know this dildo of yours can stay hard a long time, and at least a few years ago he could hold on and not come pretty much forever: he seems to get his pleasure from the process of giving pleasure to his partner, not just from going 'poke, poke, squirt'. But I have an idea how we can be absolutely certain that he lasts through whatever we decide we need from him. I learned this from another lover, who had erection problems once in a while. Care to help me, Angela?"

Janet reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pony-tail rubber-band, one of the wrapped-in-cloth type, really a miniature bungee cord about an eighth of an inch thick, covered with smooth red satin.

"This slave of ours will stand bloody still, won't he? And stay perfectly SILENT, too! Or else! Right, Angela?" Angela giggled, nodded, then realized that Kirk couldn't see the nod and said loudly, "Right!" Janet showed Angela how to install the device: together, they stretched it wide, threaded Kirk's cock through it, then his balls. They rolled it down to the cock-base, where it snugly encircled both cock and scrotum, making the ball-sac protrude cutely.

The ladies stepped back to admire their handiwork. Then Angela said "Men! They have no fashion sense, do they? And they simply cannot accessorize! We should help him." She knelt and picked two large white daisy-like flowers, bit the stems to be about three inches long, handed one to Janet. Together they threaded the stems through the band, and down the sides of Kirk's scrotum, until the flowers were against the naked, clean-shaven skin of his crotch. They stepped back to admire again, and Janet said "Looks like a true flower-child, doesn't he? I think that's much better crotch-decoration than the Brillo-pads most men sport, don't you?"

Angela murmured agreement: Kirk had been shaved clean when first they made love, and by the end of that first session, so was she. She had been truly amazed at her willingness, no, her absolute eagerness, to expose herself to him that way, on such short notice. She should have been embarrassed, but all it did was turn her belly-heat up about fifty degrees in two minutes. She had never even considered going back, either. Angela wondered if he'd done Janet the same way during their first time? What if it had been with the very same razor? The one he used on her had been quite old, almost antique! Maybe later, she could ask. Not just yet, however. Kirk's cock was enormously hard now, the veins along its length standing out in relief. The band was certainly having an effect.

In parallel, they eyed Kirk. His cock stood out solid and proud, waiting their commands. Arrogant, almost, as if it were the center of THEIR erotic universe the way it was of HIS. The cock's owner knew better, of course, but the cock gave no indication it understood.

Angela spoke first, softly. "I suppose we should get naked ourselves, don't you think? Shall we undress one another while Mr. Dildo here gets to imagine it instead of watch?" Kirk shifted his weight, spread his feet well apart, displaying his testosterone-darkened, perfectly hairless scrotum all crinkled and taut from the cool breeze and his urgent need.

They stripped one another silently. Four breasts rock-hard in the sunshine, covered with goose bumps as a little cloud played eyelid for the sun. Janet's tit and pussy-lip jewelry glittered. Then they swung their attention back to the Dildo. Janet cleared her throat, and asked "So, Angela, after a year or so with this guy, what particular little things about his equipment do you really like? I only ask because he has a couple of body-details that drive me absolutely wild, and I wonder if all women would pick the same ones!?"

Angela grinned, and said "How'd you know there were little specialties? For me, well, I really like, oh, the big dimple right here where the base of his cock joins his pubes, when it's good and hard and you pull the dick down like a pump-handle, just like this..." She suited action to words, and touched the spot. Kirk shivered visibly. An inch or so from the base of his cock was a short, red scar with two or three stitch-marks across it. Janet reached across Angela's cock-filled hand, slid one fingertip across the scar and said "Hmmmmm... nice to see - that little cut healed quickly, didn't it!?" Beneath her touch, Kirk squirmed almost violently, as if in pain or being tickled. Janet suddenly looked almost flustered. Angela briefly wondered why? Must be some little memory that just popped to the surface in Janet's mind, she thought. Janet quit touching, looked over at Angela and grinned, her composure restored: "He can be ticklish, can't he!?" The two women smiled at one another. "I also like the soft, sort of male smell down between his ball-sac and his inner thigh. Maybe there are human pheromones in it: that could be why I really like it. Those are my own favorites." Angela took a huge mental breath and managed to ask in a normal voice, "What about you?" There! The exchange of intimate knowledge, of intensely personal doings, was beginning again. What next? She waited.

"Ah!" said Janet. "We DO have differences! That's reassuring, somehow, isn't it? Me, I like two little things: the very tip of his cock, with its little eye. I used to put my tongue-tip as far inside that eye as it would go. Not very far, really! Sure was fun to try, though." She giggled. Then "And way back here, behind his balls, there's this tiny little midline ridge of tissue that runs between his sac and his anus..." She took Angela's hand, introduced Angela's fingertips to the feature. "That thing just drives me NUTS! And I haven't a clue why!" Angela couldn't believe what she was doing, letting her man's old girlfriend guide her hand around, showing off little secret things about his body. This whole improbable scenario absolutely had to be the craziest thing she'd ever done in her life. So, why was she so urgently wet? Why were her nipples so painfully hard? Some part of her brain was certainly having a ball, wasn't it?

They moved their hands, one down each side of the taut, chicken-skin ball-sack. When they were clear, Janet looked at Angela, and said "Well, madam, since this dildo now belongs to you, you should certainly go first, and probably last as well, if the machinery is worth its upkeep. What would milady like? Your nips, by the way, are advertising the fact that you are really, truly horny and ready for something!" This flummoxed Angela: not the nipple observation, but, unexpectedly, the question of etiquette! Weird! So, just what rules of etiquette DO apply here, she wondered? What would Miss Manners say was the proper "next step"? Even the question was amusing! Should she do a polite "After you, dear?" and let Janet go first? What did it MEAN to go first? Sucking, fucking, licking, touching, what was the recipe for this social interaction, anyhow?

Angela thought for a long second, and then her southern-hospitality background took control. "No, dear, let's be real. You have been the longest-deprived of the two of us. After all, I had a good session with Mr Dildo just last night, and..."

Janet shushed her with "Nope! I'm the intruder, and I'm not going to let you be overly polite. We're probably equally horny, so why don't you begin? Don't worry, I'll catch up, and HOW! I'd be curious to watch, just a little bit, anyhow, since I've never done much of the voyeur thing. It'll be a treat, I think. What would you like as an appetizer, Madame? I'll be happy with seconds or left-overs. Really!"

What, indeed? Angela looked at her man, and contemplated. She was gooey-wet between her legs, her labia swollen and full and heavy. She wondered whether that was the sensation a man had when he carried an erection? Then Kirk licked his lips, and she knew instantly what she wanted. She barked out, in a voice and demeanor she didn't know she owned, "Slave! Get down on your back right here. Put your hands under your butt and leave them there. And don't you even dare think about coming until we tell you it's okay!"

Janet almost giggled aloud, watching.

Kirk did as commanded, and lay down on the thick moss, tucked his hands beneath his bottom. His cock stood up twitching, ready, expecting to be called for duty. Instead, Angela straddled his chest, faced his feet, and slowly knelt down until her crotch was exactly over Kirk's mouth. She looked up at Janet, who was standing expectantly beside Kirk's feet with an expression that approximated a cheerleader about to launch another call for hurrahs. To Janet, she said "Excuse me if I disappear into something more comfortable for a minute or two? I probably am going to be a lousy conversationalist for a while!" She sat down, adjusted. Kirk did what she wanted, as she knew he would. She sighed deeply, took just the right amount of tension in her thighs: didn't want to suffocate the poor man, but this activity did need real, solid contact. A delicate balance. Kirk was, they were, good at it. She settled. Kirk's mouth met her, welcoming and warm and wet and sensual.

Janet watched, then said in a barely audible whisper, "How-come you're facing that way, towards his feet?"

Angela grinned at her and said, eyes closed, through her concentration, "Because I really like having his NOSE pushing against my anus while he licks me! Sounds silly, but it turns me on something fierce!"

Janet nodded and watched. She understood completely.

In moments, Angela was climbing her own little mountain of sensations. She rode his mouth for several long, slow minutes, climbing her peaks and slipping down, only to start again. It was glorious. Behind closed lids she tried to decide if she were simply this horny or whether having Janet standing, watching, three feet away was really making a difference. Both, she decided. Both. Then came a tap on her shoulder, and Angela opened her eyes. Janet was smiling into her face, and whispering "It looks as if Mr Dildo could service two at once. At any rate, it's a great shame to be wasting such a nice hard-on, don't you think? Would you mind if...".

Angela shivered her way into and out of yet another short, intense climax. She understood the question, and managed to whisper back, as she started up her orgasm-climb yet again (yee GODS!) "Not at all. Be my guest. Mother always said that well-mannered girls share things, and of course it isn't nice to waste something this good!" She was almost shocked at herself: she was really participating actively in all this! What, indeed, would Mommy have thought? Her attention returned with a snap as Janet moved.

Janet stepped to straddle Kirk's legs, her feet even with his knees. Angela was concentrating on her own pleasure, yet found time and attention available to watch: she'd never seen anything like this in real life. Janet was facing Kirk's feet, her back to Angela. Angela was wide-eyed, fascinated, as Janet did a slow Asian-style squat, her long thigh muscles tautening under the strain. One part of Angela's mind watched the skin textures of Janet's legs and bottom as she moved, and was pleased that they displayed little imperfections, tiny ripplings between muscle and epidermis, just like her own. But not bad, not bad at all. Damn the woman anyhow! The thought didn't linger. Janet's squat spread wide her bottom, and as her crotch approached Kirk's cock, his hand suddenly snaked out from beneath his butt to lift and guide his erection. Obviously he could feel what was going on, even if he couldn't see it.

Angela startled herself again: she slapped hard at his hand and barked through her excitement, "No! Dildos do NOT self-adjust. Hands belong under your butt!" The hand retreated. Janet's bottom was now hovering inches above Kirk's abdomen. Her chest and thighs and back were a-swarm with goose-bumps. The two women's hands met fingertip to fingertip as each reached to adjust the toy. Together they pulled his hardon vertically upright for Janet's use, set it just SO. Janet patted Angela's hand: together they waggled the cockhead within the socket of Janet's pussy-opening.

Angela wondered whether Kirk could feel the six silver rings in Janet's labia: did they tickle? Did they yield any sensation whatever? To him? What about to Janet herself? Surely those bits of metal must titillate various nerve endings in new and different ways. Other than visuals, just exactly what did they do for Janet? She didn't ask.

Angela watched the penetration intently. Her imagination was in hyperdrive: she could almost feel the cylinder sliding into her own body. Janet controlled the penetration perfectly - with a long sigh, she settled slowly, inexorably, one millimeter at a time. Angela shivered as she watched her man's tool disappear. The sight poured unexpected gasoline on her belly-fire, and her inner spasmings increased steadily. The points of Janet's bottom contacted Kirk's thighs. He couldn't get any deeper, not in this position. Bottomed out. She wriggled slightly. Angela's eyes stayed glued to the scene, a mongoose-cobra sort of thing. Janet pulled slowly, deliciously, up off Kirk, and left his cock glistening wetly against his belly... Angela was amazed. The WETNESS! So early into a fuck. This woman must be a fountain, down there!

Then Janet reached behind her, lifted the cock to the vertical again, positioned it at her anus. It looked to Angela rather like a stylized sexual gun-sight, the taut tube anchored in the curving vee of Janet's butt-crack. And then Janet sat down. Hard. Her bottom opened and, apparently effortlessly, swallowed Kirk to the very base. As she engulfed him Janet let out a whooshing gust of breath and a groan, muttering at the very end "Ye GODS! Exactly what I needed!" as her back flushed bright crimson and she came just from the initial penetration.

Angela was not only impressed, but she came herself, just watching the act. Her trigger was that glorious, effortless penetration. It felt as if it were happening to her, but somewhere inside her brain instead of down in her lower belly. What an unexpected rush of a turn-on it was, to watch these bodies join! She had watched her quota of porn, and never found it very interesting: first-person reality made all the difference. Through her haze, she wondered at the difference in capabilities of her own bottom and Janet's... Angela had never, ever been able to just start out that abruptly. Kirk understood that, too... his approach was always gentle, careful, considerate... even when (as it often was) very strong! He would always probe delicately at her, using his cock like a smoothing iron, reaming and pressing out all the tautness and interior wrinkles, gently, gently, until after several minutes he would be pounding fully into her, mercilessly, and she would be biting her hand to keep from screaming her pleasure aloud. What a difference, here!

Janet cycled luxuriously up and down, thighs flexing, sweat popping out with the effort, exposing and hiding the long length of hard, slippery hot cock. She rotated atop it, stirring her innards deeply.