tagExhibitionist & VoyeurOur Friend Nelly, the Preacher

Our Friend Nelly, the Preacher


This story is based on an actual incident that occurred around 1980. I have altered some identifying information to protect the anonymity of my wife "Lynn," our friend "Nelly," and me, "Ben." The experience of that Saturday afternoon has spawned many masturbation fantasies for the past 25 years, and so I've added a few details from my imagination to spice it up a bit. A very few very close friends may be able to recognize us in the story, but if they are Literotica readers, I don't really mind if they do.

Lynn and I were about 30 at the time, Nelly was a year or so younger. Lynn and Nelly had become friends while getting their master's degrees in counseling psychology. Lynn went on for her Ph.D. at a university in Connecticut, where she and I met. Nelly, being a Christian, worked as a youth minister at a church for awhile before entering the Master of Divinity degree (M.Div.) program at Yale University, which she finished about the time of this story. She was working as an assistant minister at the time. Lynn and I are atheists, and playfully refer to ourselves as "infidels." We three had many thought-provoking conversations about religion and theology, without making any effort to "convert" anyone else to our own way of thinking – Nelly is the only Christian I've ever met who was able to do that. We lived in Connecticut at the time of this story, but have since moved west.

Lynn and Nelly are both petite women with trim figures. Lynn is 5' 2" and Nelly an inch or two shorter. Lynn is busty (a source of great pleasure for me, and for her, since she enjoys my enjoyment of her bountiful breasts). Nelly's breasts (as I found on the occasion being related here) are smaller, but beautifully shaped. Nelly always dressed conservatively, wearing loose clothes and baggy tops that hid her very attractive figure – an unfortunate consequence of Christian guilt about her sexuality. Her most noticeable characteristic was her face – she had had severe acne as a teenager, which left her face pock-marked. She also had had an eye injury as a child, which resulted in some additional facial disfigurement. Feeling unattractive, and being repressed about her sexuality, Nelly had never seriously dated anyone. My hypothesis, which I once shared with her and which she did not deny, was that her involvement in the church and pursuit of a career as a minister was a way to avoid dealing with her fears of inadequacy due to unattractiveness, and her ambivalence about sexuality. Still, as Lynn and I were to discover, Nelly had a secret fantasy life that was richly sexual.

Lynn and I, on the other hand, were unabashed about our sexuality. We had been together about two years at the time – we later married and now have two children. We had sex on a whim, whenever either of us expressed an interest . . . which was often. We went to Misquamicut, Rhode Island, several times each summer for the nude beach there. I have an unusually long penis (eleven inches erect, five to seven inches flaccid, depending on how cold the water is) which dangles and flops from side to side when I walk unclothed, along with my low-hanging testicles in their loose sac. Part of our pleasure on the nude beach was watching others' reactions to seeing us as we strolled along the water's edge. I loved seeing men stare lustfully at Lynn's large, soft, swaying breasts with nearly silver-dollar sized light brown nipples, and she loved seeing women stare disbelievingly at my dangling penis and testicles. We joked that putting each other on display for others to ogle hungrily was our foreplay; we would later rush back to our motel room and feast on each other's bodies.

We also participated in nude massage parties where six to twelve couples would meet at someone's home for a potluck dinner followed by everyone getting naked and taking turns giving massages. Typically, two or three couples would share a massage table, each individual being the recipient of a 20-minute massage by the others' well-oiled hands. For the first ten minutes the recipient was face down, and the second ten minutes face up. Except for rolling over when cued, the recipient was to be completely passive and silent. Lynn's petite form and large breasts, and my over-sized genitals made us favorite massage partners. Breasts and genitals were treated just like any other part of the body, not as explicitly sexual organs, and so were freely touched during the massage as were shoulders and thighs. Inevitably, sexual arousal occurred, although it didn't lead to intercourse – at least during the party. Each couple no doubt exercised their arousal as soon as they got home. Lynn and I always did.

Despite the norm of regarding all body parts equally, the other men at our table always enjoyed massaging Lynn's breasts, and the other women enjoyed massaging my genitals, which usually produced an erection. Although we didn't talk while a massage was in process, playful remarks were often uttered at the end of my massage about the size of my erect penis. My masseuses commented about the difficulty they were having in "relaxing my tubular muscle" that apparently was "in painful spasm" despite their valiant efforts to "work out its obvious tension." Sometimes the slick, oily hands of two or three women stroking my erection at the same time produced the predictable result: my contribution of a quantity of additional slick fluid to the viscous mix in their hands.

Lynn eventually proposed masturbation games and contests for the women to perform on the men after all massages had been completed. Some couples preferred to only watch. I was an eager participant, however, and Lynn enjoyed putting "her" cock on display for other women's enjoyment. She devised devilishly creative contests, putting the other women into competition for who could most sensitively judge when my ejaculation was about to erupt. She showed them how to hold my balls firmly in one hand, hooking the index finger of the "ball hand" around the base of my penis, and stroking my shaft slowly and deliberately with the other – the "cock hand" – in order to know when to halt stimulation just in the nick of time.

Lynn had perfected the art of bringing me to the very precipice of ejaculation, sensing my impending orgasm by the involuntary retraction of my balls and the sudden hardening of the base of my penis as semen began to enter my shaft. She then paused, keeping me in exquisite arousal, teasing me mercilessly until she was ready to let me erupt. Sometimes the game involved making me guess a number between one and ten before each round. If I guessed the correct number, she (or her understudy) would continue stroking until I had a complete orgasm. If I guessed a wrong number, she would slowly stroke me to the brink, then stop abruptly, saying, "Sorry, wrong number. Guess again." After a minute or so of making my throbbing cock "suffer" without more stimulation, on display to all observers, she would repeat the process. I would never know if I had guessed the correct number until she finally let me ejaculate. She and the other women seemed to enjoy watching my emotional intensity as my orgasm swept through my convulsing body.

Other women in the massage group were eager students of Lynn's cock-teasing techniques, and I was a favorite "victim." Lynn would usually ask one woman to stand at the head of the table, leaning forward so her breasts hung directly over my face, while another woman practiced the cock-teasing technique. Sometimes I was allowed to fondle her hanging breasts and suck on her nipples while my genitals were receiving "the treatment"; other times, I was instructed to remain completely passive, my "consolation prize" for guessing the wrong number being to fondle the breasts that happened to be over my face until the women exchanged places and I made another attempt to guess the correct number. I always suspected that it didn't matter whether I guessed the right number or not – Lynn and the other women just kept "torturing" me until they decided to finally give me release from my torment. Of course, I loved being the "victim" in these torture games.

Lynn and I became close friends with one of the couples we met in the massage group and occasionally would exchange partners for sex. Other than that, we weren't really "swingers."

Now you have some of the background leading to our experience with Nelly that is the basis of this story.

Lynn and Nelly were close friends who regularly met for lunch and got together on other occasions. I was included sometimes, and felt fully accepted by the two women. In fact, it often seemed that they engaged in very frank "girl talk," hardly noticing my presence. I enjoyed being present and generally didn't intrude into their exchanges unless my input was invited.

Being single, Nelly still lived with her parents in a nice home in the countryside of eastern Connecticut with a secluded pool set among dense trees in the back yard. On the occasion described here, her parents were vacationing in Europe and Nelly had the house to herself. She invited Lynn and me over for a Saturday at the pool.

Lynn wore a bikini that showed many of her charms. I wore, as usual, a bulky pair of trunks to hide the eleven-inch erections that I frequently get when I'm around Lynn in her bikini. Nelly wore a much more conservative two-piece bathing suit.

It was a sunny and unusually warm afternoon. Between dips in the pool, we sat at a table under an umbrella, sipping an occasional beer. The conversation turned to Nelly's social life, her lack of a boyfriend, and her sense of hopelessness about ever finding one. She admitted to being attracted to men, although she was still a virgin and had had virtually no experience, never even having kissed a man. Nevertheless, she admitted with a shy smile, "I have a vivid fantasy life."

Lynn, a skilled counselor and interviewer, asked Nelly to elaborate on what she finds attractive about men and to say more about her fantasies. Her somewhat evasive answer finally led to a surprising admission: "I like penises," she said quietly. "I think about them a lot, and think I would like to 'get acquainted' with one some day." She looked at me sheepishly, seeming to have just realized that I was present. With some embarrassment, she asked me, "Does that surprise you, Ben, that a preacher-woman would be interested in penises?"

"No, not at all," I replied. "Seems completely natural to me."

Lynn picked up the questioning. "What is it about penises that interests you, Nelly?"

Feeling more comfortable, Nelly answered, "I'm intrigued by how they get big, and spurt semen – not that I've ever seen one do it. And the bigger the better. I have a fantasy about being in control of a man's huge penis, where I have the power to decide when to let him have an orgasm that he desperately wants. He's tied up and I tease him for a long time, increasing his desire. He gets more and more needy, begging me for release. Then, when I'm ready to watch the show, I masturbate him slowly until he spurts."

She paused, looking down, seeming ashamed about what she had just said. "Oh, I shouldn't be talking about this. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything about male sexuality except what I've read in books. I don't even know for sure how to make a man ejaculate. I'm just being silly."

While Nelly was speaking, Lynn looked at me quizzically, raising her eyebrows in a questioning gesture. I knew exactly what she was asking. I shrugged and nodded my consent, indicating approval of her yet-unspoken idea.

Nelly looked up and saw our nonverbal exchange, glancing back and forth between us. "What?" she asked. "What's that about? Do you think I'm crazy?"

Lynn leaned forward toward Nelly, asking earnestly, "Would you like to see Ben's penis?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" Nelly answered emphatically. "That wouldn't be right. You two have a special relationship, and I wouldn't do anything to interfere with that. I love you guys as friends."

"I wouldn't mind," assured Lynn. "And Ben wouldn't either, would you Ben?"

"Absolutely not," I replied with evident interest in the prospect of introducing our friend Nelly to the world of male sexuality.

"Nelly, Ben and I would like to help you with this. It would be a special gift that we could give you. After all, do you know anyone else you could talk to about this?" Lynn was persuasive.

"No. There's no one I can talk to as openly as I do with you two," Nelly replied quietly. "But it would be too embarrassing."

"Ben has a really big one," Lynn said, teasingly.

This seemed to pique Nelly's interest. "How big?" she asked, looking toward me.

"He's eleven inches long when erect," answered Lynn on my behalf.

"Wow! I thought they were about six inches."

"That's average," explained Lynn. "But Ben's is anything but average. Would you like to see it?" Her offer was irresistible. Nelly sat in silence, looking back and forth between Lynn and me, seeking some reason to reject Lynn's offer. She found none.

"Ben, sweetie, how about standing up and dropping your trunks?" Lynn proposed.

After a respectable pause of a few seconds, enough to allow Nelly to intervene with a change of mind, I said, "OK." I slowly stood up, untied the drawstring at my waist, and began to lower my trunks. I was flaccid, but lengthening a bit in anticipation of proudly showing Nelly my equipment.

The waist of my trunks gradually lowered, first revealing my pubic hair, then the top inch or so of the base of my penis, then the top four inches and the beginning of my scrotum. A bit lower and I paused, only the head of my circumcised penis remaining on the agenda.

Seated, Nelly's eyes were transfixed on the revelation taking place about three feet in front of her face. Her mouth hung open in anticipation.

"Do you want me to continue?" I asked, wanting to be sure she still approved of what was happening.

"Yes," she croaked weakly, her throat dry from the excitement.

I let my trunks drop to the ground and stepped out of them. I stood in front of Nelly, stark naked, her eyes glued on my genitals.

She swallowed hard, and looked up at my face. "I'm sorry, I should be staring. It's just so beautiful."

"It's OK," I replied. "Look all you like. It's nice to be appreciated." I moved my feet apart a little, clasped my hands behind my back, and twisted my body gently from side to side, causing my dangling genitals to sway back and forth. Nelly's eyes returned to the display in front of her. She licked her dry lips. My penis was lengthening as she stared at it.

I looked over to Lynn, who was watching our exchange with intense interest. We quickly exchanged agreement with a glance.

"Would you like to touch it?" Lynn invited Nelly.

"Uh, I don't know . . ." stammered Nelly. "Maybe that's too much for Ben. It looks like it's getting bigger. Won't he just feel frustrated?"

Lynn understood what her friend wanted. "Ben, step forward so she can touch" she instructed. I complied, moving forward so my now-horizontal penis was about a foot from Nelly's face. Nelly seemed immobilized, not moving, only staring.

"Go ahead," urged Lynn. "See what if feels like."

Nelly slowly raised her right hand toward my cock, now standing at full attention, 45 degrees from vertical. She lightly touched the shaft with one finger, then moved her hand slowly around, touching it from its base to its tip, pushing it to one side and watching it return to center. "Can I feel your testicles too? I understand they can be easily hurt."

"You can explore everything," I replied. "I'll let you know if anything you do hurts. But don't worry, you're not even close."

With that assurance, Nelly felt my balls with her left hand and put her right hand around my shaft. She gently rolled my balls around inside their sac while slowly moving her right hand up and down the shaft. I was now completely hard.

"Do you masturbate?" she asked, before interrupting herself. "Oh, that's a really personal question. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

"Yes, sometimes," I answered. "It feels really good for you to stroke me like that."

With that permission, Nelly stroked my shaft more assertively. Soon some precum leaked out. She immediately withdrew her hands, leaving my throbbing cock bobbing in the air in front of her face, dripping its juice. "Is that your semen?" she asked, fearing that she had made me ejaculate against my wishes – I remembered some bible verse about the "sin" of "spilling seed upon on the ground" and wondered whether Nelly may be feeling that senseless Christian guilt.

Lynn spoke up. "Nelly, how about if I show you a few things about men's genitals? Ben, lie down. Spread your legs and put your hands behind your head. I'll help Nelly learn about men." Lynn took charge, not really asking for my permission, nor Nelly's, to proceed. Of course, she knew I did not object.

I laid down on a large comfortable pad in the shade and did as I was told. I knew that my job now was to remain silent and let Lynn do the instructing, using my genitals as her teaching tools.

Lynn sat down cross-legged on one side of my body and gestured to Nelly to sit on the other. They scooted forward so they both could easily reach my cock and balls.

For several minutes Lynn encouraged Nelly to touch, fondle, and manipulate my genitals, demonstrating how firmly she can hold and squeeze testicles without hurting them. She also demonstrated how firmly to grip my cock while stroking up and down so that the skin moves up and over the ridge around its head. She explained that the ridge is like a "trigger" that makes ejaculation happen, and encouraged Nelly to practice stroking it. A couple of times I felt the early signs of an orgasm beginning to occur deep in my groin, but Lynn skillfully paused the stimulation to prevent ejaculation

Nelly was intrigued. "It is SOOO big," she exclaimed. "Even bigger than my dildo!" She suddenly realized that she admitted to having a dildo, which implied that she masturbated by inserting a cock-like object into her vagina. "Oh, my, I didn't mean to say that." She blushed vividly. "I REALLY didn't mean to say that!"

Lynn reassured her, normalizing the fact that women use dildos to masturbate. "I've got one too. Mine has a vibrator in it, does yours?"

"Uh, . . . yes . . ." Nelly answered hesitantly. "Look, guys, I really didn't mean to let that slip. I'm SOOO embarrassed."

"Hey, it's completely OK. I know it's really personal, but Ben and I are truly comfortable with sexuality. You have nothing to be embarrassed about with us. Anyway, I'd like to see your dildo. Let's compare it with the real thing, OK?"

"Well, I guess so. This feels really weird. Are you sure it's not too crazy?" Nelly hesitated.

"Not at all," Lynn answered. "Go get your dildo."

With a shrug, Nelly stood up and went into the house. While she was away, Lynn unsnapped her bikini top and took it off, letting her bountiful breasts free into the open air. I smiled approvingly. "Maybe this will encourage Nelly to do the same," Lynn said, knowing that I would approve.

Nelly returned holding a pillowcase containing her "toys." She glanced furtively at Lynn's bare breasts, but didn't say anything.

Lynn said, "It's hot, so I took off my top. OK with you? Feel free to do the same. Ben won't mind." She winked to me.

Nelly sat down. "No, I'm comfortable. Besides, Ben wouldn't want to see me topless. You're so beautiful."

Lynn prompted me with a glance. "I'd love to see you topless," I reassured her, trying to imagine how her breasts and nipples look.

"No . . . not now," Nelly replied. The hint of a possible future caused my throbbing cock to bounce involuntarily. She reached in the pillowcase and slowly pulled out a large life-like flesh-colored dildo with prominent veins along the shaft. It looked like it had been molded on a human model. A condom fell out too, which she quickly put back into the bag. "Well, here's my boyfriend," she handed the dildo to Lynn, shyly holding it by its base.

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