The Theft of Our Lives 14

In contrast to her formerly respectable self, now, Emma's ego was stoked knowing she, and her sweet little sister too, were the focus of these eager ballplayers' rising sexual ardor, not to mention raging hard-ons. Simply put, the thought of their sculpted bodies and rampant cocks using her in ways she never previously imagined was thrilling.

Emma openly savored the possibility of adulterous sex with the leering group of athletes, horny as hell in their worked-up state by the full-bodied MILFs, including the mother of an opposing team's player with her sniveling husband by her side doing absolutely nothing.

After my dissolute wife's public display during the game, for the first time her tattered morality and developing slutwife self-image rose to the surface, easing her conscience while feeding her anticipation of satisfying the hard cocks of the powerful ballplayers with the many desirable charms she possessed.

"Fuck, don't kid yourself, Mrs. Tyler. You and Mrs. Fitz's big tits are halfway out of those tops already. Show us the goods. We want the real deal," Ricky pressed, brazenly joining his compatriots with growing sexual urgency.

"Uh, um, o-okay, but only because we're truly sorry," Emma lied, understanding Kellen's wishes and that their course was set the moment they'd performed the scandalous prank, diminishing her reputation in front of the fans and demolishing what little dignity they still possessed.

"Crank some raunchy music," an anonymous voice echoed in the small room as a grinding hip-hop beat suddenly reverberated, lending a decidedly seedy feel to my accommodating wife and nervous sister-in-law's coming striptease.

A circle of the assembled teammates quickly closed on the pair of suburban mothers, shunting me aside pitilessly as a dozen sweaty, partially-dressed ballplayers pressed forward in anticipation of the marvels of mountainous flesh about the to be unleashed.

This was Kellen Tyler's respectable mother, after all, and I was his spineless father.

Along with the other pretty MILF sporting big tits and looking remarkably similar to Mrs. Tyler, the guys were consumed with getting them naked and whatever followed after that. It was too fantastic to be real and far too good to pass up.

Nonetheless, it was also clear Jerald intended their apologies to be genuine and their punishment entertaining to every slack-jawed guy in the room.

Before wide eyes and gaping mouths, while coolly exhibiting the deliberate ease of a seasoned stripper, Emma inhaled in mock concern about her dignity, then reached to the button at the back of her neck holding the narrow halter straps in place, barely concealing her enormous jugs.

Pausing for effect, my temptress wife gave a deft twist, but held the white cotton briefly above her shoulders, taunting the gawking onlookers by hiding her hidden treasures for one final moment.

"Ooops," she peeped, 'accidentally' dropping the twin panels exposing the mammoth mounds of pale, spongy tit-flesh before the wowed group and playfully giving them a provocative jiggle.

"Holy fuck," a collective sigh rose as one in the locker room, with the players marveling at the giant white tits filling their vision as Emma's heavy breasts came comfortably to rest, rising and falling while proudly dropping her hands to her broad hips.

"Check out those whoppers. They're huge!" Peter Simonson exalted, unable to control his immature bluster about my wife's eyepopping knockers, causing her to blush but without faltering in her effort to please them.

Raising her hands above her head as if a belly-dancer, her sparkling hoop earrings dangling and wildly cropped hair flying provocatively, Emma played her part as sincerely as possible, even swaying her pliant knockers gamely in time to the rhythmic music for an awe-inspiring show.

"Jeez, Kel's mom has nipple rings. Who'd a guessed?" another voice called out indelicately, particularly considering this was a woman many had seen in the stands dressed much more conservatively at previous games watching our son.

"You do those for yourself, or for your wimp-ass old man?" Jerald inquired mischievously, daring to flip the hoop piercing her left nub with a whimsical flick, tightening the meaty bud dense roseate eraser tip in response.

"N-no, I, uh, um, ohhhhh, Kellen suggested that I, well," my wife stammered, flummoxed by the chill of stimulation and improperly blustering the shameful truth before thinking up a convenient lie instead.

"Fuck! Kel suggested! I wish you were my mom," Ricky interjected doubtfully, bedazzled by the very idea of a son proposing his mother get her nipples pierced.

Chastened by the unintended revelation and simply wanting to move on, Emma consciously adopted the submissive role she knew Kellen desired. Indiscreetly, she tingled at the catcalls and whistles as the guys gobbled up the unimaginable sight as if hungrily staring down a hanging curveball with the bases juiced on a 3-2 count.

Unfortunately, so did I, and I did a poor job hiding my arousal as I almost literally slobbered at the obscene disclosure.

Appreciative of their youthful exuberance, my affected bride gave another generous shuffle of her expansive chest, sending the gelatinous mounds swinging sexily in a manner men salivated over without exception.

"You too, babe. You've got a price to pay," Marcus ordered Betsy, shifting on her feet wide-eyed watching her big sister summarily place her nude tits on display to the zealous crowd.

"Y-yeah, um, right," my wife's addled sister agreed, displaying the same spirit as Emma in light of the attractiveness of the young men, her resolution to fulfill her part of the 'apology,' but struggling nonetheless at the idea of stripping before the enthusiastic crew.

In violation of clubhouse rules, cell phones suddenly appeared everywhere, catching every moment as the pixy-haired beauty reluctantly reached for the hem of her tube top and unartfully lifted upward, removing the already miniscule covering in a heartbeat.

"Woo, woo!" the guys cheered as Betsy attempted Emma's bravado, raising the scant fabric above her head with similar flair and swinging it wildly in her best stripper moves, knowingly flailing her lovely D-cup hooters in a lively dance sending them careening uncontrolled as the guys ogled rabidly.

Clicks and flashes lit up the room as some players took photos, while others trained their latest generation cellphone videos on the dazzling women, capturing every second of the performance for their own posterity, and as likely, for anonymously sharing on their favorite adult media websites.

Caught up in the moment, Emma didn't rest on her laurels, deftly unzipping her short skirt at the waist and seductively shimmying the pleated garment over the generous swell of her hips and slowly down her long, muscles legs until hitting the floor to be kicked aside.

Without so much as bra or panties, it was a quick striptease, but her admiring audience didn't mind at all, Kellen's naked mother stood tall with every voluptuous inch of her mind-blowing body exposed, reduced to only her blocked white heels matching her discarded halter top and a few colorful metal bracelets on her wrists.

"Oh man, she's bald! Mrs. Tyler's pussy is bald," Ricky cheered, disbelieving his eyes that Kellen's conservative mom kept her snatch clean as a whistle, with the fleshy mound curving smoothly into the forbidden seam of her ruffled labia.

Shockingly, I watched with jaw agape, enthralled as Emma sidled up to the Latino shortstop and, with arms still waving above her head in a salacious exhibition, bumped a deliberate grind of her hip into the youngster, sending him stumbling with the force.

"Baby smooth, too, if you're lucky enough to find out," she purred with shocking forthrightness, pumping her pelvis forward then backing away quickly before the stunned ballplayer tested her bold assertion.

"Emma, my god!" Betsy exclaimed at the brazen challenge she never contemplated her reserved big sister issuing.

"You too," someone said, and obediently my sister-in-law followed suit, pulling the tight elastic of her yoga shorts lower revealing her own hourglass hips and shaven cunt, leaving her in only her low-heeled sandals.

Naked and exposed, more video rolled, with Emma and Becky fully nude in all their considerable glory before a gaping group of early-20's athletes, preening disgracefully doing their best imitation of harem slave girls performing exotically for an enraptured audience of desert sheiks.

"You are hot mamas, but time to be punished for messing with my little brother," Marcus snarled, stalking their every move as his deviant brain worked overtime thinking of an appropriate penalty.

Emma and Betsy immediately drew still, frozen with trepidation while letting every delicious curve of their bodies be devoured by the greedy eyes of the team.

Infatuated, every player admired the nude mothers head-to-toe, noting Emma's tall physique and impressive tone for a mother of two, and Betsy's abundant appeal, unavoidably focusing on their prodigious tits projecting prominently, remarkably firm and bobbling gently while awaiting Marcus' next words.

At 5' 10", Emma was imposing for a woman, with her height rivaling Luke as the smallest member of the team and looking like a handful for even the beefier players.

On the other hand, Betsy's chestnut curls gave her a playful look speaking of loads of fun in the sack, with her slimmer 5' 9" frame suggesting a vigorous ride on the impressive manhood the athletic youngsters undoubtedly offered.

"Ain't off the hook yet, ladies. When we make a bad play, coach makes us run a lap around the warning track," Marcus announced sternly, assuming the lead in dishing out discipline to Emma and Betsy, especially if it resulted in the fun he anticipated.

"Yeah, you fucked up. Time for a lap," Ricky agreed heartily, with the rest of the team nodding affirmatively as well.

"B-but, we're naked. We can't, um, go out there!" my wife gasped, no longer playing around and truly shocked by the prospect of scandalously tromping around the ballpark warning track.

"Yes, people might still be out there," Betsy decried, as worried as her sister about jogging the perimeter of the field in her birthday suit and feeling just as vulnerable.

By this point in our indenture, Emma and Betsy were accustomed to their nudity at home or in front of others, family and strangers alike. Public exhibitions, however, still upset my usually modest wife and her desirable little sister. They'd even grown to appreciate the unbidden praise heaped on the curvaceous bodies by a yawping audience.

Shuffling naked around a ballpark in broad daylight, visible to anyone remaining in the stands, was another matter altogether - concerned and fearful of exposure, literally, to people they might know.

"Makes it more of a punishment, doesn't it? Sadly, by this point most everyone has left," Reg answered officiously as the assistant coach. "There may be a few groundskeepers, and maybe one or two stragglers in the stands, but it should be mostly empty."

"You know, guys, we're, well, pretty busty. We'll be bouncing all over the place," Emma protested, cupping her doughy handfuls of plump tit-flesh from beneath emphasizing her point but instead only inciting the restless crew further with the unintentional teasing.

"Hell yeah, you will, and those big jugs oughta make quite a show," Peter suggested, an anxious as anyone to witness the bawdy fun of two mature, naked ladies circling the playing field.

"Wait. That gives me an idea. Hands behind your back," Marcus announced, reaching for a large roll of white athletic tape used to wrap injured limbs during game action to continue play.

"W-what, what are you going to do?" Emma huffed uncomfortably, compliantly clasping her hands behind her back despite the tension filling her inflamed eyes following his every move.

"Huh," I exhaled audibly, understanding immediately his intent and breathless at the impure image in my head of the sure result.

"Like that idea, huh, pops?" Marcus smirked, enjoying my impulsive response and experiencing ever greater pleasure at my obvious callowness for permitting these energized young men to manhandle my adored wife so freely.

Wrapping a long strip of tape around Emma's hands at the wrist, Marcus cut it off leaving them firmly bound but not cutting off the circulation.

"Hey!" she chirped when his strong hands pulled her arms together at the elbow, winding the tape several times around before cutting it off with her forearms just as closely joined.

"Fucking perfect, bro! Such perfect fucking tits," Jerald approved through beaming eyes as Marcus backed away letting everyone admire his handiwork.

"Oh, oh," Emma pouted her distress, wriggling against the bonds sending her jello-y jugs jostling back and forth delightfully portending an eventful trip around the warning track.

"Damn, Mrs. Tyler, your big titties are made for that pose," Ricky concurred enthusiastically, eyeing her with the special reverence of a young man whose fondest wishes had just come true.

Indeed, they were, and forced to stand stiffly upright by the tension at the elbows pulling her shoulders backward, Emma's spectacular boobs were consequently projected magnificently forward - unsupported and free to roam.

The dastardly pose was terribly revealing and vulnerable, especially for a woman with the enormous chest sported by my tormented wife, but she did look marvelous, as evidenced by the twinge in my chastity cage quickly gaining full strength.

"How big, Mrs. T? I mean, your tits," Ricky, the self-styled Latin lover asked, brazenly stepping a mere foot before my towering wife and flagrantly lifting her spongy left globe from beneath, with the abundant flesh practically spilling between his widespread fingers.

"Uh, oh my, um, Ricky, is it?" she replied begrudgingly, knowing she'd seen the audacious youngster at previous games but never having been formally introduced.

"That's my name, mamacita," he mocked arrogantly, squeezing the yielding orb with a sneer and noting her wide, dusty rose areola crinkle responsively despite her palpable unease.

"Well, that's kind of personal, but, um, under the circumstances, I'll tell you I'm a 37-DD," Emma offered, her concerns for privacy almost humorous in a nod to her ingrained humility.

"Jeez, fucking ginormous," an unknown player in the back hooted without disagreement from his teammates.

Emma blushed red at the remark, but differently than in her usual embarrassment whenever someone noticed her substantial chest. Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked proud, and also slightly aroused tantalizing the spellbound studs with her huge tits pressing forward in the extreme position.

"You too, babe," Marcus interrupted the celebration of Emma's peerless tits in turning his attention to Betsy, cautiously awaiting her fate by her older sister's side.

Trained by Hank, and subsequently Kellen as well, to strict adherence to orders, my self-respecting lesbian sister-in-law hesitated only briefly before joining her hands behind her back and closing her eyes in preparation for a similar constriction of her arms.

Despite Emma's obvious endowments, sheer beauty, and elegant grace, I've always had a thing for Betsy's body. Since first seeing her nude under Hank's instructions, I've grown secretly aroused whenever she's naked. Now, seeing her masterfully trussed by the assertive young black man, my unrighteous elation multiplied exponentially.

Emma and Betsy stood side-by-side in only their shoes, their large jugs thrust forward awaiting whatever came next as I squirmed meekly nearby, useless as their defender and instead disgracefully turned on by their plight at the hands of the increasing agitated group of hearty males.

"So, you're Kellen's mom. I know how moms help their sons. I bet it was your idea teasing Jer into a strikeout. You deserve an extra penalty," Marcus declared, taking the lead as the older brother.

"These big tits and kinky gold rings are just right for teaching you a lesson," he followed inauspiciously, removing two lightweight padlocks from nearby lockers.

"Huuhhhhh," Emma inhaled deeply when he audaciously grasped her hefty right tit at the base, latching the padlock into the gold hoop at the tip of her nipple and clasping it shut.

"A little something to think about prancing around the park," he elaborated, hooking the second padlock into the ring adorning her left nipple and locking it tight too.

Unusually buoyant considering her age and their tremendous size, Emma's proud tits jutted obscenely forward, but with the thick nipples now drooping slightly from the weight of the metal padlocks, giving everyone a derisive chuckle.

"Oh, please, this is too much," she complained, looking downward in horror at her weighted tits, fearing not only how ridiculous she looked, but also how they'd tug at her tender nubs with each step of her journey around the field.

"Tough shit. Now, the two of you get out there. The sooner you go, the sooner you're done," Jerald barked, aggressively slapping Emma and Betsy's round rumps spurring them to action.

"We'd better go, Em. I just want to get this over with," Betsy advised cautiously.

Not wanting to run, my forethinking sister-in-law also didn't want to tarry, inordinately grateful her own big boobs didn't carry the weights but sympathetic knowing they'd add considerable discomfort to Emma's effort.

"Oh, alright, but this is humiliating," Emma bemoaned, shaking her head in resignation.

"Wait a second. Pops, get your ass over here," Marcus called to me, wagging a finger demandingly, dismissive of my role as patriarch and the husband of Kellen's mother.

"Me? What did I do?" I asked self-servingly, thinking only of myself and fearing retribution I hadn't earned.

"Shit, what a wuss. More concerned about himself than his lady's dignity," the commanding black youth deplored, shaking his head demeaningly but grinning knowing his every suspicion about me was proving well-founded.

"I-I, uh," I stuttered, uncertain how to respond to the accurate charge and mindlessly shuffling his way as directed, just as Hank was training me to do in gratification of my need for humiliation and shame.

"You a slut too?" Marcus challenged aggressively, his face mere inches from my own, intimidating me into passivity.

I couldn't answer, cowed and trembling with regret and fear, knowing every word was true and fulfilling them to his utter delight and disrespect.

"Strip, bitch!" he growled, his breath hot in my face leaving me petrified.

Unnerved and willing to do whatever was required to avoid further upbraiding, I undid my tie straight away, proceeding to undress with alacrity until hesitating when I was reduced to my slacks.

The expression on Emma's face was revealing - disdain for my weakness, but also retribution knowing the secret I concealed in my trousers.

"Off!" Marcus yelled, knowing exactly how to crush my reticence and achieve his goal.

"Yes, um, sir," I groveled, quickly unbuckling my belt, and dropping my pants exposing my women's panties to the room as the group of players exploded in laughter.

"Hell yeah, he's a wimp!" someone howled.

"Fucking baby blue panties. I coulda guessed," Jerald guffawed uproariously.

I shrunk in my abasement, turning every bit as red as Emma had earlier, and unfortunately sensing another pulse in my prick straining my cage, thankful I at least had the underwear hiding my shame.

Perhaps I got lucky, or perhaps they noticed but decided to save my further humiliation for later, but neither Marcus nor Jerald commented on the obvious contraption I wore beneath the light satin fabric.

"Alright, ladies, onto the track," Reg ordered in his usual role as coach.