Letter From St. Louis

Dear Shoeblossom...

I must write you about my tenant, Portia. She seems to have taken over the house...she's 23 and a hellion!

I gritted my teeth, kneeling on hands and knees on the kitchen table as Portia's thick razor strop crashed against my tender bottom.

She swung again, and it landed once again, and tears spurted out of my clenched lids.

Can I be a man? Can I take what she's giving out?

"Remember, Millard"

Portia's sweet voice came through,

"Be a man, show no reaction."

Portia raised the strop yet again...oh, that razor strop!

Made of high quality leather and fine weave linen finish, it could find its target in such a thwack!

Portia's father was an old fashioned barber--and he'd used this strap for thirty years before Portia had introduced it to me!

"Wait, wait, Millard." Portia said casually.

She separated my legs and pulled my testicles out behind me, and then pushed my legs closed again.

"Now we'll see if you dance!"

Portia's arm rose and fell with muscular enthusiasm. I knew I must not cry, or cry out, or it would be far worse!

The strop landed against my balls, nearly flattening them, and I almost blacked out, but I blinked rapidly and stayed awake.

Oh, the pain was intense.

The strop landed again, bursting a blister from last week's whipping.

She really knows how to land them!

Jesus, I'm made of manhood, aren't I?

Platoon leader, 6th infantry, aide-de-camp to the commanding general in Saigon, two Purple Hearts, and three Silver Stars..

Assistant commander of the 3rd Marine Division, Task Force Delta commander, and 25 years head of Millard H____ Home Security and Data Collection Corporation...

I'm a tough guy. So why can't I take a whipping?

I bit my lip and again the strop landed on my left buttock, utterly singing it.

I look behind her...she is so exquisite pink and gray sweater hugging her cantaloupe sized breasts.

Portia smiled at me.

"You're doing so well, Millard, just take it like a man." SLAP!

Again the strop slapped, this time on the lower end of my trembling cheeks, and I began sobbing softly.

It just hit too hard, that time!

Portia paused, and looked at me, as the tears streamed down my cheeks.

I made no sound, but she could see I was in serious pain.

"Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt, honey? Was I too much for you?"

Portia's tone was deceptively soft, but I tried to show I was all right, shaking my head.

"But, sweet Millard, I told you--we agreed that you must learn to be a big boy and not cry. Now you need a lesson, right? Stand up and put your pee-pee on the table."

"N-no, please, Portia."

I begged, "N-not that."

But she looked adamant, so I climbed off the kitchen table.

"Please, Portia, not my wee-wee." Portia shook her curly head, smiling sweetly.

"Honey, I'm doing this for your own good. I'm trying to teach you to be more obedient, and be a stronger person.

Now lay your big dick on that kitchen table before Aunt Portia gets mad."

If I wasn't so worried, I'd smile, having this girl 28 years my junior with tumbling blonde curls refer to herself as "Aunt Portia.".

So I hesitantly stepped up to the table and flopped my nine inch penis on it. I closed my eyes, and put my hands behind my back, grabbing my right wrist with my left hand.

Portia reaches forth a manicured hand, long pink nails gently stroking my penis into happy rigidity.

"Now this is how you'll learn once and for all to stop making those silly crocodile tears."

Portia lifted the strap.

WHACK! Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if Portia didn't make me put my penis over the table, but when the strop hit my penis, knocking it into the Formica kitchen table, I nearly fainted from the pain.

Five times the strop came down--and finally, I covered my face, pulled my dick away from her cruel strop, and fell to my knees, weeping softly.

And then came Portia's taunts.

"Oh, big baby...you can't be a man? Loser. Why did I ever move in with a sissy-creep like you? I might as well be living with a rubber squeak-doll or something."

She's so cruel, my Portia...and I'm still not sure how she got into my life!

I came home one day five years ago, and my wife and Portia were standing in the living room.

"This is Portia" my wife said, looking askance at the attractive young woman. "She is interested in renting the apartment in the basement."

Portia smiled at me.

"Hey! Florence says that you're a former Marine officer! That's so cool."

I still remember how Portia looked that day. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

All those tumbling curls, and a nose ring--

Shirley Temple as punk rocker...and then she had a -purple top that accentuated her full breasts, and it pulled up so you could see her navel, which also had a little piercing.

Portia took my hand, pressing it intimately.

"I really like the downstairs room. I've had a little man trouble, you know, so moving here would be a good plan."

At the time, I tried to look detached but I felt an uncomfortable lump in my pants.

Portia stood a little closer, and lightly touched her knee to my groin, and my erection grew a bit.

"It's great to meet you, Millard" she said, with an adorable crooked smile.

"I don't know about her, Millard" Flo said, out of earshot.

"She was trying to kiss up to me, I think--telling me she is a Martha Stewart kind of girl, as if that establishes that we're both middle class.

She says she can't afford both the first month's rent and the security deposit." Florence huffed.

"She says she isn't working right now. Between jobs is unemployed in my book.

But then Portia winked at me!

Although I am the tough military officer with a huge home security company, Florence is the practical one--raised our five kids across three continents,

Usually I let her make decisions like this one...but I kept looking over Flo's shoulder at the winking wench with that tumble of blonde curls...

As I looked, Portia smiled, ran a tongue across her full lower lip, and pulled her little purple shirt down, tightening the top around her full breasts.

"Let's give her a chance, Florence" I urged. "She seems like a sensible girl."

At the end of the first month, Florence began clucking because Portia was late on the rent.

"I'll go down and talk with her, dear." I said firmly.

I knocked and came downstairs, and Portia was sitting on her bed wearing only a long pink T-shirt, and she leaned over and waved at me, showing her full cleavage.

"I came about the rent." I said, trying to deepen my voice.

Portia had many interesting reasons for not having the rent.

The most compelling was her back.

"I want to work, Millard, but my back is killing me.

I pulled it moving a dog kennel with my brother just a few months ago...you know, those big metal fences?"

Portia looked into my eyes, and it just seared my heart.

"Where does it hurt?" And I gave her an expert massage, and she moaned with pleasure.

"Oh, that's so much better, Millard. Rub harder..."

When Florence called down to ask me if we were still going to Home Depot, I told her to just go without me.

About twenty minutes later, I thought I heard Portia sobbing.

I lifted my big hands off her little back in fear.

"No, it's just that you are releasing all this tension."

Portia turned and looked at me quite seriously.

"Do you mind if I take my shirt off so you can really get into the kinks?" Needless to say, the rent didn't get paid...

And three weeks later, Florence caught us in the bathtub together, and as I was already on probation for some other indiscretions, after a big fight, my wife of twenty-six years left.

All of a sudden, my life was changing.

None of my kids would speak to me, but I didn't really give a shit--I'd put the whiny little bastards through college and paid their therapy bills...

Hell, they were self-supporting now, who cared?

Portia was incredible. She moved upstairs and we were making love every day!

And then one day she kind of stopped.

She'd taken over the master bedroom, and pushed me away one night as I approached her.

And then it was a couple of nights...but she still walked around in front of me wearing belly shirts and thong panties.

I followed her around with hungry eyes.

Portia was taking care of the food, and cooking, but she'd brush by me, rubbing her round little bottom against my crotch as she searched for oregano.

I'd reach for her, and she'd go "No, no, horny boy" and pull away from me.

I began staring at her constantly as she loafed around...

"Like this shirt? This is my snake print keyhole top..." she'd say, waving her boobs at me.

"But no grabbing, now."

One day she asked for my Platinum Visa so she could get some stuff for herself. "You know...for job hunting, and maybe a little lingerie?"

I gave Portia my credit card and I never got it back, and she still wouldn't touch me.

Then I tried the cold shoulder treatment, and Portia approached me one night.

"Will you feel my breasts to see if I have a lump?"

I gave her a thorough examination, and she thanked me with a full kiss...but when I tried to push her to the bed, Portia skipped off...

Portia still hadn't looked for a job, but of course I had let that go when she became my concubine...but now all she seemed to do was watch daytime soaps.

One evening, as I was sitting down to remonstrate with her, Portia was resplendent in a tight gray top, hugging her considerable breasts, and panties.

She was rubbing some lotion on her long legs.

"I am um, distressed that we don't make love any more." I said hesitantly.

Why was I so scared I had always been a confident mover with women, and had been quite the tomcat in my marriage to Florence.

Portia looked up at me briefly, and rolled her eyes in that twenty year old way.

'You just don't seem to let me touch you very much.'

I watched her glossy red nails pumping lotion into the suppleness of her thigh, and my erection came on strong, like that of a fourteen year old boy.

"It's just that you're too grabby, Millard...I like stuff to be spontaneous." Portia looked intensely in my eyes.

"Why don't you put some of this lotion on my legs? Rub it in there for me." I grabbed the lotion and began rubbing it throughout her thighs, as she moaned.

I oiled her leg, beginning at the ankles, working up and over the hip, and stroked oil into the back of the knee.

I spent a great amount of time rubbing her gorgeous calves and the back of her thighs, and soon she heard me gasping and moaning.

"Aaw honey, what's wrong?" Portia said, turning to me seductively. She trailed a finger down my chest.

"I-I just want you so badly, Portia." I said, willing my erection down. "P-please..."

Portia sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"I just feel icky right now, I don't want to be touched. But maybe I can touch you a little bit."

She got me to take off my clothes, and she bound my hands behind my back with clothesline.

"This way I can be sure you're not going to grab me and stick it in."

Portia lay me down on my back just below her bed.

She pulled off her long pink shirt, revealing a frilly bra and panty set and, taking the lotion, she rubbed it into her feet.

Then she began running her feet up and down my tumescent cock. Portia's toenails were painted with glittery purple polish...

Portia grabbed the head of my penis between her big toe and the next toe of her left foot, and began rubbing my penis up and down with her right foot.

Then Portia began tickling my frenulum with her toes, and I gasped.

She rubbed my penis vigorously with the flat of her foot and I began gasping and moving my hips up and down.

She was right about me wanting to hump her--the clothesline kept me from doing this, but just barely!

Portia pulled and stroked my penis with her feet for nearly forty minutes, and then, just as I was about to cum, she let my dick go, and kicked me lightly in the balls.

"What did you do that for, Portia?" I asked, the tears rolling down my cheeks.

She smirked at me, and juggled her boobs in both hands. Her full breasts bounced cheerily in the sheer, stretch lace demibra.

Portia bent over and helped me up, laying me on the bed, my penis bouncing like a metronome. She pulled her panties off and climbed above me, rubbing the edge of her hairy slit against my purple erection.

"Did bad Portia hurt little Millie's wee-wee?"

Portia asked in a baby-girl voice.

"Is Millie's wee-wee hurting...Bad Portia a sad girl."

I thrust my penis against her slit, but Portia deftly rose up on her feet so my poor cockhead could just barely touch the wet lips.

Then Portia crawled across my chest and lowered her pussy over my mouth.

"Now Millie's going to do his duty and make Portia feel good...and maybe Portia will make Millie feel good too!"

I licked Portia for an hour and a half, bringing her to about seven orgasms. By the time she lifted her twat from my face, my jaw was numb.

"So, honey, are you going to help me out now?" I asked, my mouth moving painfully.

"Well, darling, what do you mean?" Portia said with an innocent look.

"Are you going to help me get rid of this erection, dear?" I pleaded with her.

Portia smiled. "Well it depends on the definition of get rid of, I guess."

Reaching into the belt loops of my pants, Portia pulled out my thick leather belt, the one I'd used for 20 years to keep my sons in line.

WHACK! WHACK! The belt singed the edge of my penis, and then Portia gave it to me buckle first. Six times the buckle hit my tender glans and I was crying once more.

But my erection had diminished.

Later on, putting my dick in ice, I vowed to throw the nasty little bitch out. I'd gotten rid of my dedicated, helpful, nurturing wife of twenty-eight years for this?

But then, walking in the living room, I saw Portia and her friend Marissa, a strawberry blonde, jogging in place--both wearing athletic crop tops and shorts, their boobs bouncing.

Portia smiled at me. "We're just going to jog down to Ted Drewes for frozen custard, do you want to join us?"

So I jogged with them. Why not?

And it was great being at the custard store, having everyone look at this grizzled old guy with two hot little babes with nose rings, etc.

I bought their custard, and they held onto my arms, and both kissed me in the ear, and all that sort of nonsense.

On the way home, I bought them each a cute little green squirt gun...they were such cute twenty year old kids!

When we got back home, Portia confessed to Marissa what had happened that afternoon.

Marissa wrinkled up her cute little nose.

"Portia! You bad girl! After Millard was so nice to lick you between your legs and all that." She smiled at me and winked.

"And the worst part of it is, poor Millard didn't get to cum...but I feel icky right now." Portia said, again in the little girl voice.

"Right, so you don't want to do you-know-what" Marissa said.

"Well, I'm having my period...sorry Millard. Why don't you jerk off?"

I reddened. I had not masturbated since high school...women were too easy to get.

But I was horny. "Perhaps you ladies are right" I said gaily. "I'll take care of it upstairs."

Portia shook her head earnestly. "No no...you can do it here. We don't mind."

Marissa giggled, and her breasts bounced a little. "Sure, and we can give you a little show if you like."

A minute later I was naked on my knees in front of the girls, pumping away at my hard cock. I expected they would undress for me, but they just sat there and smiled.

"Keep going, Millard!" Marissa said, giggling. "You're really cute this way!"

I pumped, noting the swell of Portia's breast against her crop top. Ohhh. It did feel good.

I jerked my cock over and over again, gasping with the effort...and soon I felt that familiar load pushing against my dick. I was getting close.

Just as I was about to cum, I was hit in the face by a stream of water! That goddamned Portia was shooting me with the water gun I'd bought her!

"What the hell?" I asked, dropping my dick to wipe my face off.

"Is there something wrong with you, young lady?"

Marissa began giggling.

"You are so fuckin-bad, Portia!" she said. "Leave him alone...let poor Millard finish his stroking."

Finally I resumed jerking my dick, and Portia and Marissa made amends by flashing their nipples at me. This was more like it.

"Are you sure you girls wouldn't like to fool around?" I asked, as I played with my cock. "Maybe a blowjob?"

Portia shot me in the face again. "No dirty talk there, buster. Let's see you go to it on that dick, now."

I jerked faster and faster, grunting and breathing through my nose. At the point where I was about to ejaculate again, I got another shot of water, neatly into my left nostril, this time from Marissa.

The coughing fit I got into was just incredible.

I rolled around on the floor, finally looking up at her, with a tear rolling down my cheek. "Why did you do that, Marissa? I was about to cum."

"I want you to make us a strawberry daiquiris." Marissa said imperiously. "Why should you be having all the fun, Millard?"

But we didn't have the ingredients for a strawberry daiquiris, I protested.

"Go shopping."

So I went out to three stores and bought strawberry schnapps, rum, lime juice, powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

I was so horny at this point.

I rushed home and put the whole thing in a blender and made them each a strawberry daiquiris, and they motioned me to undress once again and begin masturbating myself.

I began rubbing my hands and fingers up and down my penis...it had been days since I'd last cum, right before Portia had cut off the sex.

I looked up, and Marissa was licking strawberry foam off her upper lip. She winked at me, and flashed a nipple, and I gasped and continued to stroke myself.

Portia was watching me, twirling one of her long curls and absently putting it in her mouth. It was true, compare that to Florence's steel wool hair and jowly disposition, and there was just no contest.

I bent over to rub my dick faster and I got a shot of water on my forehead. I looked up.

"Sorry, that was a mistake" Portia said sweetly. "You're doing a good job, there."

But I noticed that the water, now streaming in my eyes, stung a bit.

"We put salt water in this time, just for fun." Marissa explained. "While you were gone, looking for the daiquiris ingredients."

I opened my mouth to object, and got a streamy shot of salt water for my efforts.

I humbly returned to my masturbatory task.

I pumped and pumped, and occasionally looked up. Once I was startled to see the two girls necking.

Marissa's tongue was in and out of Portia's mouth, and I was agape.

Portia looked at me, and shot me in the eye (the salt really stung) "What're you looking at, pervert?"

"Oh, no wonder you aren't interested in me, Portia...you're gay." Was that it?

Marissa giggled. Portia snorted. "We're not gay, we like boys...we're what's called fluid...

We do what feels good with whoever we want, which currently isn't you. So why don't you just choke your chicken."

Holding back tears, I returned to jerking my penis...and it felt good, and I was indeed aroused by the young ladies...Marissa was now kissing Portia's cleavage, oh my!

I jerked and jerked, and again I was close to the finish, and this time I was hit with two streams of water in the face, from both guns.

"We want dinner! We're hungry...do you only care about your own needs, old man?"

So I bit my tongue, and got up and went to dress. My cock was bloated now with backed up semen.

"Do you need me to quiet that down for you?" Portia said, brandishing my belt. Suddenly my penis wilted.