Room for Two Pt. 04

More stroking, more girl lubrication until the gestalt penis did look as if the olive oil had been poured. But nice as olive oil is it could hardly beat the real McCoy of lubrication! The lubrication intended for penes by nature. Moreover a remarkable blended lubrication - the wetness of three women together.

I can tell you it was exciting, the atmosphere electric. The girls masturbating us and freely masturbating themselves. Even Gina caught up in the eroticism. I am not sure you would exactly call Sharon and Joni inhibited but if you could call Gina that she seemed to have lost her inhibitions completely. If one or the other of her hands was not touching and playing with our penes then it was between her legs. The girls moving around us and breasts pressed and rubbed against our skin.

Unable to move a millimetre against the other male organs, nonetheless the stimulation by the moving fingers was substantial. I felt myself moving towards coming.

Who would be first? Who would be last? As fingers moved, and it was the fingers of three different hands lightly touching and playing, fingers tapping and touching, I could see Tristram was already leaking.

"Remember we want to see them work." It was the first words for minutes. Sharon reminding her colleagues of what they wished to see.

No longer touching the tops of our knobs but fingering around the bulbous sides of the quatrefoil the women left the urethras open to the sky. A light but persistent tapping of finger tips, a moist, sticky tapping with fingertips.

"Oh fuck!" said Tristram revealing he would be the first. And he was - and he almost caught me full in the face what was more! Like the other men, I was looking downwards at our shared penis. One little spurt from his urethra, one rather higher one and then 'blam!'

I saw it coming, right up at me, a flash of white but just before it reached me it fell back. Quite something to see. An erotic sight to my mind, an ejaculation has that, and Tristram did it well. Erotic because of its close association - indeed the exact same thing - to what I enjoyed doing. Indeed Tristram's ejaculation set me off. Of course the stroking fingers and the previous stimulation had a lot to do with it but the sight of Tristram's spurting and particularly the feel of semen falling warm on my knob caused me to follow.

Guttural noises from me and I too was coming, a second of the impossible penis's urethra's working and, of course, half of the bunch of balls working! Nothing like as high as Tristram but spurting well. More warm semen falling down on the shared penis. Sufficient it seemed to trigger Alan into ejaculatory launch. A third urethra pulsing semen into the air.

The girls cheering but not stopping their tickling.

"Come on Cory, join them." Joni's command rather amusing. The action not voluntary - it had to be set off. "Before their stiffness goes."

Cory could hardly complain of either lubrication or assistance. Not now lovely shiny girl lubrication all over but creamy semen simply everywhere, not least on and between the girls' fingers, You could not see Cory's urethral opening so covered was his knob now in - who knew which other or other's - semen. His knob and the other three, the covering semen not differentiating, indeed obscuring the lines where knob pressed against knob. Just a mass of warm, running semen to be seen. There was not just stimulation to the penis but I felt a hand or was it hands on my and all the other men's balls - by way of encouragement! A fondling of the bunch - a big bunch of testes.

As I stared downwards, there was a movement in the covering semen. Something was happening beneath the surface. Perhaps a first spurting from Cory but not strong enough to break through the layer of thick liquid - a momentary disturbance - but then the fourth ejaculation broke through. An eruption of semen! Spurt, spurt, spurt up into the air. The fourth ejaculation of the gestalt penis. Spurt after spurt rising in the air, more semen running down the bound collection of 'rods,' perhaps a bit like the lava of a volcano - hot and steaming!

The impossible cock was covered. It was a total mess. But it was a mess caused by everyone present, indeed the dripping, moving liquid was a complex blend of girl lubrication and male semen. All contributed. It was not an all male thing nor an all female thing. It was heterosexuality gone mad!

"Freaky," said Gina.

"I've got to finish this, I've got to - I'm so worked up." Sharon voiced what the other women were thinking.

A sight to gladden men. The sight of three women flopping down on recliners, one after the other, and openly frigging themselves. Sharon's red bush so beautifully displayed, her vagina so open and, of course, clearly showing where there was room for two; Joni's red fingernails pulling away at herself, not the ends of brushes inside her this time but fingers, her other hand to her breasts and the neat vee of brown pubic hair so very 'there' in the sunshine; and then there was Gina, the young and so delightfully fuckable little black girl, just so as I had imagined her the year before - she had even put on her straw hat against the sun - lying back with widely spread legs showing dark lips, such black curls and pink softness. Pink softness with black fingers inside.

A sight to gladden men, a sight to cause men to erect and come forward with purpose. But of course that could not be. Right scene, right men: wrong time. The four of us were still bound together intimately, bound by rather soggy green ribbon. It was not as if we could not have got at the girls. Though there was a certain eroticism in the idea of us being so bound together that we could not get away from each other, could only stand with erections held tightly together quite unable to free ourselves and feel the frustration of being able to watch but not touch the exposed, wet and freely masturbating women. An utter frustration to bound men, But, of course, bound only by ribbon we could have found a way of breaking free and severing our bonds. We could have done had there been any point: but of course we had just been drained. The very woman now displaying so lewdly and so erotically had figuratively emptied our balls. They hung empty as increasingly hung our recently proud shared penis.

Despite the sight before us our penes were drooping and hanging rather than standing. The binding had not taken in our balls and it only required a pulling from us for us to separate, a stepping back, for each part of our shared penis to become our own again.

How pleasant it would have been to have stood in a row wanking and watching the women, how pleasant it would have been to have been permitted to move from (and into) one woman to the next, a succession of penes entering and stimulating each woman in turn. But there was no stiffness to work with, and rather less interest than there had been. How nice to have wandered from recliner to recliner watching the masturbating women, whilst masturbating oneself, and, ultimately, to have let fly over a naked body. We certainly watched - it was still interesting enough - even offered to 'help' but were not taken up on that, each girl quite capable of bringing her own self to orgasm. We watched but could not wank. Nice though to watch a woman in orgasm - actually nicer to watch three, one after another.

We did go into town to a restaurant for the evening just as we had planned to do before the building - yes, the erection - of the 'impossible cock.' A casually dressed but more than respectable group of seven in the taverna. A happy party at table. Who of the other diners could have imagined the strange goings on only an hour or so before? Not one!