Visiting Sherie & Rick Ch. 08

I can't sleep. Rick is crying himself to sleep. Sherie is showing little sympathy -- she's reiterated several times: "That's what bad little boys deserve."

Thankfully, she had not laid a finger on me. Even when Rick moved me from their bed to 'my' bed -- the pink frilly canopy bed -- Sherie stayed modestly clear of my nakedness. Only the wash-cloth covered me. And yes, it survived the afternoon on my tent-pole. I did everything possible to not hump it into the air as I might normally have done. But Sherie sounded dead serious about the consequences. And Rick's tears bore witness.

True to her word, apparently Sherie had indeed doubled-down on their previous picnic punishment, doubling the 10 birch branches, and doubling the strokes from each set. She made Rick recite the afternoon's events to me. But I also saw the blanket as evidence. Bloody and cum-stained.

Yes, cum-stained. Even in his cage, she whipped him and taunted him, humiliating him for asking a guy (me) to jack him off Saturday night. If he was such a perverted gay husband, she reasoned, then he would also likely ENJOY his whipping and would even get off on it. And she was determined to continue till he did.

"So think your perverted little boy thoughts so you can get off before I thrash you to pieces, faggy boy!"

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!...is how he described it between whimpers. But I could scarcely comprehend it all, while still doing everything I could to maintain my composure, still carefully balancing the wash cloth tent, trying not to twitch or pulsate.

"I didn't want to think those thoughts about us, Harold, but I knew I had to get off any way possible, and quick. Sorry buddy.". And he broke down crying again, humiliated."

"Tell him what thoughts, Pervy.". (She had apparently made him voice his thoughts amid his beating."

I don't want to hear this, much less repeat it here.

"Harold is jacking me off again, like Saturday night. Head under the covers. And spitting on my hard dick. I'm cumming, Harold. I'm cumming Buddy."

"What then, Ricky? Tell him what you said next, as I beat your ass red."

"Harold, open wide. Here it comes", he admitted sheepishly."

"And he exploded into the blanket full force and I whipped him just as hard as he rightfully deserved. Then I scooped up a handful and fed him his 'picnic lunch'. Good boy, Ricky."

"See what you helped create, Harold? A face-fucker. And in his mind, you swallowed him. Nice job, Harold. Would you like a chance to swallow him now? Maybe I should have Ricky get up on the bed right now, and put his little pecker in your face; whaddaya think? Would you like to taste him, Harold? Would you?"

She knew better. But again, she loved taunting me. And watched my wash cloth for an answer.

"Hell no!"

Thankfully, even though she talks big, and apparently whips big -- at least her hubby that is -- at the end of the day she still tries to maintain her modesty with other people."

So here I am, now in my own assigned little frilly pink bed, hands loosely tied behind me, sleepless and wondering what tomorrow's basic training will be like. And trying to get Rick's words out of my head.

And mentally I applauded Sherie loudly for beating him as hard as she could when he said that about me.

Still, I wondered what Rick's involvement in my training would be. And I sure don't want to turn out like him.

***

I awoke with a morning woody, and no ability to do anything with it except roll around on it, hoping no one would come in, as had happened too often already.

But as always, in they came. Rick, sheepishly, and Sherie teasingly.

"Rise and shine, Sleepyhead. Time to begin your training day. Sleep comfortably, Harold? Why are you laying like that, Harold? What are you covering up, Harold?"

And she covered my naked butt with the little wash cloth.

"Hey Ricky, since Harold seems reluctant to get up right now, why don't you lay down beside him, face down just like him. And I'll spread some ointment on your red stripes. Sound good?"

"Yes please."

I could feel the bed move rhythmically as she soothed his backside. But I dare not move, lest I lose the wash cloth.

She continued to taunt me.

"Would you like to finish this job, Harold?"

"No. Of course not."

She laughed out loud and slapped Rick's butt.

"You're done, Ricky. Time to get Harold's training started. Harold, how would you prefer we proceed to get you in shape for Jen: The easy way, or the hard way.

"The easy way, Sherie. Please."

"Ok then, the easy way it'll be. This week you can train at your own pace. Stretch often, and take breaks as necessary. We don't want you pulling a muscle in the early going. And you can determine your own training regimen. Sound good?"

(I'll have to admit, this is suddenly more like the Sherie I've known all these years. Actually even nicer yet. In years past she has pushed my buttons by being a bit flirty but then snarky when Jen came around. And in the end, she'd always give Jen advice as to how she should keep me more in line. She'd imply that I was being a bad example to Rick, and that he would get his expectations too high as to what a husband could demand of his wife. Usually she'd refer to him wanting more sex in their marriage -- and then she would right there in fron of us all correct that notion. "Both partners must agree before sex is performed, don't you agree Jen?"

(And then when Jen was looking up & away, embarrassed by the question but pondering, Sherie would give me a flirty smile and a wink. And yes, with Rick watching. With a bit of a sad, downcast demeanor.)

So today's start to my month of training was a bit of a surprise. A pleasant surprise.

"Ok Harold, all I ask is that you make some amount of progress this week. By Saturday evening. So that gives you 6 training days at your own pace. You can come & go as you please. Up & down the hill country out back. Just make some progress, Harold. Fair enough?"

"Sure, Sherie. And thanks for letting me stay here and work at my own training pace this month. I'll do fine, I promise. You'll see."

"I knew you could, Harold. You're sharper than Rick here. He couldn't do it on his own -- he needed constant supervision to get him to the shape he's now in. But I've always admired your athletic achievements. Kind of sexy, even, watching you out there shooting baskets or lifting weights. So just make progress this week, and I'll just enjoy watching it all from my kitchen window. In fact... "

"...Do good, and toss me a little wink when you know I'm watching, and I might flash you a little encouragement to inspire you."

(I can't believe she said that right here in front of Rick, even!)

"Oh wait, I didn't mean *THAT*! I just meant, a smile or little hand-clap. You'll see. And don't worry, Rick. You know I'm faithful to you. You're the only one that will ever get into my... well, you know." (And again she gave me a flirty wink.)

"Oh, and one more thing Harold... If you're successful by Saturday night... and sufficiently accomplished EVERY Saturday night, I will make this the best month of our friendship, if you know what I mean. Stopping just short, of course, of what Rick seems so worried about. Poor little ricky, I wouldn't go that far, would I ricky-poo? But I will make this a month to remember, Harold. And I know what you like, don't forget -- we've been neighbors for too many years to think I hadn't noticed you at the window when I was out gardening or mowing the lawn in my shorty cutoffs."

"So now, as you train up & down those hills, think about that. And what could top it, as your reward this month. Ready go. Go get em, Harold! And don't pull a muscle."

Sherie untied my hands and turned her face away as she took her washcloth with her as she flitted out of the bedroom.

Free at last. And hard, as I had laid there listening to her encouragements, while embarrassing Rick at every point. But I can't risk this positive turn, so I donned a pair of running shorts and headed out. Thankfully my back was to the kitchen window as I jogged away, my flopping hardon soon going away as I labored onward & upward.

***

And so it went for the first few week. I worked hard to make overcome the aches and pains. My breathing wasn't nearly so easy as I remembered from my youth. But true to her word, Sherie was often at the kitchen window as I descended back down to their home, often with a smile and a wave. Sometimes pointing at her Fitbit and then clapping. Was she timing me? So of course I turned and was energized to try even harder next trip up & back.

As the sun started to descend out of site (early, in hill country), this time she was out on the deck and gave a little hip wiggle, them motioned me in for dinner. I was too tired to get hard, but I knew what I'd be thinking about tonight in my pink canopy bed. Pretty much the same as I had been thinking about every night this week: Sherie.

***

Instead though, after a delicious Saturday evening meal, Sherie followed me up to bed. She wouldn't let Rick come along; she said she didn't want to embarrass him as she would have some high compliments for my hard work that day.

And indeed, her lavish compliments up in my bedroom became yet more fodder I would be thinking about during my masturbation session tonight. Moreover, her hands were all over me as she talked, pretending to check for progress in my physique. She put a finger to my lips, not letting me bashfully deflect her praises. I could feel my penis moving. And upward. Harder. Did she notice? Would her hands rove down there? It's now rock hard, hoping she'll keep going. But instead, she coaxed me to be sure and get a good long soapy shower -- "We can't have you sweaty in our little girl's frilly pink bed, can we?". And again, the sexy Sherie-wink that made my now-hard penis jostle in my thin silk running shorts. And she knew it.

"You go shower. I'll wait for you right here, she said as she ran her hands over the pink frills."

I pretty much ran to the bathroom. And jacked my soapy dick toward release.

"Hey not too much soap, though. We wouldn't want any accidents in my shower, Harold. And I can't wait out here forever, you know. If you want what awaits you out here then you need to come get it, Sweetie."

Is she serious? Is she actually going to do what she promised Rick she wouldn't? And just not tell him about it? Or is she going to flaunt it later, making some excuse why I'm so much better than him that she had to? And will I really go through with it? My now soapless dick throbbing as I toweled it off, tells me I will. After all, she was right: I have always had a thing for Sherie, watching her every move over our years together as next-door neighbors. Her smallish breasts, under a thin sleeveless blouse and almost training-sized bra, and shorty jeans created quite the stir in my own jeans as I watched her mow the grass with their old reel-mower. To this day, the sound of it quietly sheering off grass-blades gives me a hardon. And here I am now, naked but for the towel, ready to go slip into the pink bed with Sherie's cute little body... while Rick waited patiently downstairs. I opened the bathroom door, and bee-lined for the 4-poster and pulled back the covers to jump in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, big fella. Easy there. Sit here a minute, first."

"Sure." I picked up her petite hand and lifted it to my lips to give it a soft kiss, to acknowledge I'd happily slow down to her pace."

"Aw, that's so sweet, Harold. But first, I have a little present for you that came today. I couldn't help noticing how hard.... you worked this week." (She intentionally drew out the word 'hard' to make sure I knew she knew its condition.)

"Wanna see?"

"Of course, Sherie. You are absolutely making this training a delightful time that I could only have dreamed about."

"I'm glad you're feeling the way I do about it, Harold. I was afraid perhaps I was taking you down a road that you didn't want to go. And betraying my lifelong friendship with Jen. But now that I see you feel the same way about me, I think our next step is inevitable. Our passion for it is too much for anyone to humanly overcome. Rick & Jen will just have to adjust to fate. Don't you agree?"

And she moved her hand under my towel, and up my thigh, stopping just short of its ultimate target, but close enough she could see the towel raise like a magician's levitating act.

"Just as I thought, Harold. You need this, as badly as I do, don't you? Say it."

"Yes Sherie. I need it. Badly. Very badly."

Pulling her other hand from behind her, she presented me with a small gift-wrapped present.

"Ok, Harold, indeed you may have what you've always needed. Here. Unwrap it and go in the bathroom and try it on. If you do, I promise you every fantasy will come true that you've ever had about me. Or at least every fantasy that I've ever had about me & you. Go on. And I'll keep this. It'll go nicely on my necklace."

"Oh, and don't forget your towel, Harold. No immodesty around this house. Ok, go on. Try it on. We'll have fun. I won't be mean. I promise."