Return to Funnel

Thomas shook with passion and humiliation, his pantyhosed legs spread wide and his asshole hungrily sucking at his mother’s wiggling finger. Her stroking hand felt so good and this young girl could see everything that it was doing to him. She seemed so pretty and innocent, but here she was displaying her panties to him like a very cruel prickteaser. Slowly, he risked a glance upward and saw she was actually grinning down at him. In a teasing gesture, she blew a big bubble with her gum- and popped it at him, causing both women to chuckle. His sack was slapping noisily against his mothers masturbating fist as he stared at her white knee socks very close to his face… and the white cotton panties with their taunting words floating in front of him.

“I’m waiting Thomas. Out loud… right this minute.”

“Y… yes… M… Ma’am. Ugh! Oh…. Ma’am… uh…. It says…” Emily interrupted him harshly.

“Her PANTIES, Thomas. Her PANTIES say what?”

“Ugh… Her panties say… s…s…swee… oh god… sweetheart!”

“Thaaats right, Thomas. And she is, isn’t she. An adorable little sweetheart of a girl… who’s watching you getting milked like a dairy cow.” Emily finished with a giggle.

“Just pull them over his head where they belong, Abby. Make sure the ass part is over his nose.”

Abigail did just that, wrinkling her nose with a cute expression of distaste at what this pervert was going to have to do. She remembered the nervous feelings she had had and the several nervous farts she had expelled on her way to the Crenshaws and no doubt their aromas were absorbed into the soft white cotton. After fitting his head with her panties, she paused to look down at him and couldn’t resist laughing at the sight. The word sweetheart scrawled across his face with his nose pushing out at them. One eye peering up at her through one of the pink laced leg openings. She returned to her spot at his rear to resume her ball holding duties. This time, she began a slow rhythmic squeezing of his big nuts as his mother masturbated him into his dog dish.

Thomas whimpered loudly from the sensations that were being wrought upon his defenseless cock and balls. The two women were expertly milking him to their combined delight and he felt every bit the dairy cow his mother had spoke of. He felt the jism boiling in his balls and with a loud braying cry he began his humiliating ejaculation.

Abby cried out in surprise at the force of the expulsion. His balls were giving throbs of muscular contraction as it came out of him in ferocious spurts that landed in his dish with repeated splats. His mother goaded his prostate with firm in and out motions of her finger.

“Come on Thomas. Empty that bone. I want those balls stone-empty.”

He didn’t disappoint. His cock was milked of one thick rope after another, the fingers encircling his length pulling it out of him. Somewhere behind him he could vaguely hear soft, feminine giggling and knew that the girl… the prickteaser was laughing at his spectacle.

Across town a very angry Margaret Blanshtein was stopped in traffic after a long day at the office. Margaret’s disposition was always stern, but when she was angry it was a sight to behold.

“Move it, asshole!” She shouted to the cab driver in front of her. He seemed to be looking back at her through his rearview mirror. She shot him a look that could have frozen lava and he actually braked to let her through. This was what Margaret Blanshtein could do to men… with a look.

Her German ancestry had been responsible for her icy blue eyes and blonde hair, but her temperament was from her mother. She had a large frame that boasted feminine curves and prodigious breasts that shook when she was barking orders at the office.

Punching the pedal with one black heeled pump, she whizzed by the cab driver and held up her middle finger as she did so. Margaret was on her way home and was finally beginning to feel slightly more at ease when she remembered she had to make an appointment to meet with Emily Crenshaw for the weekend. Deciding she would phone her as soon as she got home, she made a mental note to chew out the little prick that was temping as her appointment taker. That semi attractive high school boy who couldn’t do his job right unless you were standing over him and glaring, he would be hearing from her she vowed.

The backyard of the Crenshaw house was filled with snorts and whimpers as Thomas filled his bowl with sperm. Abigail leaned down beneath him to see the last spurts fill the dish. The gooey mess reminded her of a spilled glue bottle. Emily finally released her hold on her son’s penis after wringing the last drops out of him.

“Now, Abigail. Hand me that funnel from inside his little doghouse. I’m going to show you how to feed him.”

-To be continued