Male Harem

"Easy, easy!" he cried.

She dried all the water she'd sloshed with a swipe of the towel, scurried back to wherever she'd come from.

Now that he was ready, the boss's wife motioned for him. He crawled on top of her, slipped his cock inside of her, and began to fuck her gently and slowly. He went for a long time. Still she did not come. I was watching her expression closely, both with this fellow and the blond before, and I was quite sure by now that she could have come whenever she chose. She was stretching it out, to milk the pleasure for all it was worth. Finally, she had what seemed to me a rather gentle orgasm. The olive skinned fellow came with her, also gently. Clearly exhausted—he had been holding back the whole while with all of his will—he held her like a lover. She let him hold her for maybe three or four minutes. She then gave him a little kiss, whispered something in his ear. He nodded, rolled off of her, and lay on the floor, spent.

My turn had come up again. She motioned me with her finger. As I approached her spread legs I could see the come of two men oozing out of her pussy. Her pubic hair was wet with it.

"Clean me up a little, Max. Just the outside will be fine. I like to feel my cunt full of come."

So I licked. I licked especially around her asshole, where a lot of the semen had accumulated. I had never tasted much semen before tonight, other than to sample a little of my own, and I was surprised by the very dry, bitter taste.

I licked her pubic hair until it was clean. Unable to stop myself, I sucked on her clit. She let me go on. Every so often I would pause to admire her clit. It was getting red and hard and swollen, like a bean.

She motioned for me to come up and fuck her. I did as I was told, and in a moment I was having the best orgasm I've ever had in my life. She was coming too, hard. Words cannot describe it. I've never experienced such ecstasy. I was in love with her.

She let me hold her for a little while. I desperately wanted to hold her after coming. When I rolled off, she joined the redheaded fellow on the couch and toyed with his little dick. She sat in his lap and fucked him a little, seeming to find amusement in having such a little dick inside of her.

"The good thing about a little cock is that it rubs right up against the clit," she told me, her eyes closed, as she slowly rode him. She had another orgasm, just a little one, smaller even than the first. She was not one of these women you read about who come and come all night. She was really not much different from a man. She could have one, maybe two good orgasms on a good night, and then she'd had enough. Then she was tired, spent. She needed to rest just like we did.

She just fucked the red headed fellow a little for the fun of it, as she would have enjoyed an after dinner mint.

The boss returned. He checked his pocket watch.

"As it is quite late you boys are welcome to stay the night," he announced.

The blond fellow, who was still humiliated, all but ran. We could hear him running down the steps, stopping to pull on his pants, his sports car starting up and tearing out on the shell drive.

The rest of us looked at each other but did not move.

The rest of us stayed.

We stayed all the next day, lounging around on the beach, watching the boss's beautiful wife swim in the surf, throw the Frisbee, laugh, read on her gigantic beach towel. She played around with the three of us after lunch in a light way, toying with us and teasing us but never letting us come. She was saving us for later.

That night there was a new fellow, another blond to replace the Scandinavian, and he did not take his failure to make her come right away so personally. When the night was over, and we all lay exhausted and spent at her lovely feet, the boss offered to let us stay the night again, and we did.

And we stayed the next night, and the next. I asked my boss about work. He told me not to worry. He put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said,

"This is your work now, Max."

"But money."

"Don't worry about money. It's my work to make the money. Your work is here."

And so now we are my boss's wife's male harem. We sleep together in a big room on the upper floors of the beach house. It is a room full of pillows and curtains and beads. The big windows offer views of the sea and the river. We spend our days working out, running on the beach, swimming, and generally doing our best to keep ourselves fit for her. We rub sunblock on each other, as she likes our skin smooth and nice. We read to keep our minds sharp, for sometimes before or after fucking she likes to engage us in conversation.

"I do not like stupid men," she says.

And so we lay on the pillows reading, like students preparing for a quiz.

She keeps us on a weird diet, mainly vegetarian, with lots of tofu.

"Clean arteries make for hard cocks," she says, "and besides, your come tastes much sweeter, creamier, without all that meat."

Most evenings around nine or ten she calls us down stairs. We take off our robes—we rarely bother to put on anything else now—file down the stairs, and stand before her nude, at attention. Sometimes she'll ask us all to have a seat, and we're both relieved and disappointed. We know that she will have all of us and that we'll have a chance to fuck her, but we also know that we will have to share her, and this is hard because we are all by now totally in love with her and very jealous.

But on other evenings she'll have us keep standing for a while in the "line up," as she calls it. She'll walk back and forth, looking us up and down, running her hand down our arms, our chests, our asses, as if she were choosing a dress for the evening. We all hold our breath. We know that she will choose only one or two of us, and each of us is hoping he will be the one.

Still other times—and this is worst, and best, of all—she won't even bother with the line up. She'll choose a favorite and want him night after night for a week or a month or even longer. The rest of us will be bitter and jealous and bicker with each other. We get into nasty fights. She has to come up and calm us down. She knows just how to calm us down.

I tell myself that I should leave this place. I tell myself that I should go out and try to find a woman of my own and lead a normal life. I am ashamed to be a male concubine.

The other fellows feel the same. We often talk about it when we're awaiting the sound of the little gold bell she rings to summon us. We talk a lot about the future, but we always stay in the end. We know deep down that we would never be satisfied with other women after having been with her. We would always be thinking of her.

Sometimes, when she only wants one of us and the rest of us are left frustrated and our cocks are so hard they hurt, we jack each other off, suck each other's dicks, even fuck each other up the ass. We're all pretending, I think, that we're with her. She tells us not to do these things.. When she catches us at it, or more often notices that we don't have as much semen stored up in us as we should have, she gives us little scoldings, shaking her finger at us, threating to punish us—which means not choosing us for a time—and we beg for forgiveness. We fall to our knees and huddle around her, quite literally kissing her ass, and she pats us on the head as though we were dogs.

She wants us to save ourselves for her. When she calls on us, she wants us ready, brimming with desire and cum. But we can't help ourselves sometimes. When we hear her screaming with pleasure below, we lose control. I have more than once come spontaneously at the sound of her voice.

Other women are strictly off limits. "If I ever catch any of you fooling around with one of those vile little beach sluts," she tells us, "I'm done with you for good."

We know by now that she means what she says, and we are loyal as dogs.

One night while we were all in the den, taking turns fucking and sucking her, the doorbell rang.

The fat German maid, whose ugliness did not tempt us, answered. It was the blonde Scandinavian. He was down on his knees, begging to be taken back. He could think of no one but her, he said. He had to be with her, or he would die. The boss' wife gave her maid a sign, and the door was slammed in his face. We could hear him whimpering outside, scraping pathetically at the door. He did not leave until the maid threatened to call the patrol.

I am lucky because I am the favorite now. She takes me into her bedroom every night. She lets me eat her out, crawl on top of her and fuck her, and even sleep with her until morning. The others sneer and glare at me at breakfast. I don't care, so long as I am with her.

Sometimes when we're done fucking and she's holding me, I break down crying and beg her to keep me, only me, and get rid of all the rest, even her husband. She thinks it's sweet. She gives me a little kiss on the forehead, calls me "darling," holds me very close, and promises me she'll be all mine. She says she'll just keep the others a little longer, that it would be cruel to cast them out all at once, with no warning.

But deep down I know she is lying. In a week or a month she'll be in the mood for the olive skinned fellow, or even "Little Carrot," as she calls the little-dicked redhead.

All I can do is enjoy what time she gives me while it lasts.