Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium

Craig Lundquist was finding it difficult to go to sleep. He wasn't thinking about the "Long Shots" training he was about to undergo the next morning and all that it entailed. Nor was he thinking so much about his tremendous attraction for Holly McKenzie, although he did try, but in vain, to dispel the images crowding his troubled mind with thoughts of her. What was bothering him was the inexplicable behavior of his erstwhile friend, Barney Cole.

Although Barney was almost 15 years older than Craig, the two men had forged an almost instant friendship. Craig looked up to Barney as a sort of ad hoc mentor and Barney thought of Craig as just one hell of a nice kid—someone who reminded him of the kind of man he was at a younger age. They found that they had much in common, despite the age gap, and they wound up spending an inordinate amount of time together as best friends are wont to do. So when Barney had called that night a few weeks ago and told Craig he was going back home to Canada, and Craig having received no satisfactory explanation for Barney's quick and mysterious departure, the blonde boy was dumbfounded. Enigmas were something that Craig could never abide. And this one had hit too close to home.

Craig recalled the wild sexual adventures he and Barney were made to undergo back in Stockholm under the expert guidance of the beautiful Dr. Swensen and her equally beautiful colleague, Dr. Hellstrom. He remembered how Barney helped break the ice between him and Dr. Swensen's assistant, Cheryl. And how Barney acted as best man during his wedding to the girl who eventually left him after only a few months because she realized that she really didn't love him. Even after she left him, Barney was still there—a friend as constant as the Northern Star.

In time he and Barney decided to join a popular men's strip show revue and made a fairly decent living singing and dancing in the nude for crowds of women who would enthusiastically cheer them four or five nights a week at various venues in and around Stockholm. Not only were he and Barney paid well, but both men were the lucky recipients of sexual favors lavished upon them by the clubs' female clientele. It was the kind of life that most men only dream of. But when Dr. Swensen offered to take both men with her on her visit to Paris, Craig and Barney couldn't refuse. The good doctor had made the trip a gift to both men, in gratitude for all the help they had given her during the infamous "EJAX-472" experiments, and they both were looking forward to the journey abroad.

Now, the mystery surrounding his friend's hasty exit from the country preyed upon his mind. It was unlike Barney to be so disingenuous. He wondered if it was something he had said or did that drove the handsome black man away. But what? Craig and Barney had always spoken their minds plainly and openly, never holding back anything that might get in the way of their mutual understanding. It simply made no sense. And so he could not sleep.

He looked at the clock on his night table. It was almost midnight. In seven hours he would have to get up and get ready for his first day of training at the Masturbatorium. He simply had to get to sleep or he would be useless. He tried to put thoughts of Barney out of his head. He would force himself to think of something else—anything else but his friend's unexplained desertion. Presently he found himself recalling his recent past, just a few years before he had become involved in the EJAX-472 experiment. He laughed into his pillow when his mind recalled the two attractive, middle-aged women who first introduced him to the exuberant joy and privilege of being naked in the presence a dominant, clothed woman.

They were both good friends and nurses by trade. Irene Terry was the one that had introduced him to the term "milking," a process by which she eventually trained him in such a refined and methodical manner that his conception of fulfilling sex was to be forced onto his hands and knees and milked like a cow. Craig had been cutting her lawn one hot July afternoon just days after his eighteenth birthday and she had been sunning herself on a lounge chair watching his every move. Her husband was in South America on business and she was desperately randy—a state her taciturn spouse had been failing to recognize for some years. The painfully handsome young man in his cut-off jeans, who looked every inch a god, was just too tempting a treat for the 40-year-old vixen to disregard.

Craig remembered how she had blatantly seduced him right there in her kitchen, forcing him up on the kitchen counter where she administered a blistering blow job that made his young prick dance for joy. When he came, she had kept her lips tightly sealed around the tip of his shaft while he pumped her mouth full of hot, creamy spunk. He had never received such a blowjob before or since. But it was the milkings that soon came to dominate his sexual life. And it was during these "sessions" that he learned how to surrender himself to a woman and abide by her will.

Irene Terry was of average height and had a voluptuous figure, although she was not nearly as busty as her friend Kimberly Barber. She was pretty, but not beautiful. Most of the time she liked to wear her luxuriant brown hair in a ponytail because it made her look younger. It was at her house that the milkings, outdoor nude sunbathing, and other fun things happened to Craig during that splendid summer he spent working for her. Irene's younger sister, Kelly, who was in her late thirties, was a divorced woman with two young children, and often dropped by her sister's house while her kids were at school to enjoy swimming in the backyard pool. It wasn't long before she, too, became enamored of Craig, and took part, along with her sister, in his nascent sexual education. Craig laughed aloud when he recalled the sisters telling him that they had learned the "art of milking" from watching their mother milk their father on top of the bed way back when they were still both in college. This thought amused him greatly.

Kimberly was a few years older than Irene. She was tall and slim, and had enormous breasts. Her long black hair matched her dark eyes, and gave her a very striking appearance. Her husband had died a few years earlier, leaving her with a small fortune but no children. She was justifiably proud of her legs, which she took every opportunity to display. Like Irene, she too was a very skilled milker, and could make Craig moan uncontrollably with her talented hands. It was she who first shaved his cock and balls, telling him that it would add to his pleasure when they masturbated him.

The fact that she and Irene were older and more mature than he was had added greatly to the eroticism of their sexual encounters. Before the summer was over, he had experienced no fewer than a hundred separate milking sessions, and he eventually came to long for the feeling of their hands on his genitals. Their intimate handling and teasing of his cock and balls was performed with such skill and grace that he soon became a slave to their will, doing almost anything they asked of him with humble submission.

What Craig enjoyed most about these milking sessions, beyond the actual physical contact, was that both women enjoyed talking dirty to him. As they stroked his cock they would frequently say something wickedly erotic to him or to each other. Things like, "Oh, Irene! Look at how big you've made his cock get!" Or, "That's the way Craig! Yes, baby, keep shoving that big dick back and forth in my hands. I want you to shoot that hot cream all over my fingers!" And a million other myriad phrases designed to increase the eroticism of his masturbatory experience. Craig loved all the sexy, lewd, and suggestive comments that they would shower upon him. He reveled in the power these women had over his young and splendid body, and he did all he could to please them.

Many of the milking sessions had gone on for hours, with intervals for conversation or eating. The two mature vixens teased and denied the young boy repeatedly, knowing that this technique would produce the most robust cumshots. Sometimes the women would allow him to masturbate them or perform oral sex on them, but they forbade sexual intercourse. He never understood why, but it was something they had made clear to him from the beginning and he never questioned their decision after that, grateful instead to be their boy toy and enjoy the pleasure of their combined hands as they treated his body as if it were their own private playground.

Of all the sessions he had enjoyed, it was the very first and final encounters with Irene, Kimberly, and Kelly that would forever remain etched in his mind. He remembered how utterly excited he had become when he watched Irene and Kimberly lay a blanket upon the dining room table and had him climb on top of it, positioning himself on all fours. He remained in that position for several hours as their hands and mouths hungrily explored every inch of his taught young body. They would masturbate him relentlessly until he was begging them to let him cum, and then they would abruptly stop and wait for him to beg them to let them continue. It was this tease and denial process that partly explained the great staying power he was able to maintain in his future sexual encounters. He smiled when he recalled seeing Kimberly produce a large white plastic pail from her kitchen pantry to place directly underneath his swollen cock and balls. She referred to it as her "milking pail," and it was into this receptacle that he would shoot gallons of sperm for the women's delight over and over again all summer long.

The final time he spent with the three women was to leave an indelible impression upon his mind, and epitomize for him what a true CFNM experience should be.

Craig had come to learn that his mistresses were members of a group of women who called themselves the "Purple Hats"—the color purple signifying their founder's penchant for wearing this particular hue. Anywhere from fifty to a hundred women attended these regular monthly "meetings" at an upscale country club on the outskirts of Stockholm. On the surface this group seemed hardly more exotic than a ladies social tea, but in reality it provided an opportunity for its members to enjoy some ribald fun. This "fun" took the shape of male burlesque shows. Ostensibly, the men who performed in these shows never went completely nude, but that was not always the case. Depending upon the level of drunkenness, one could expect to see more than one penis on display before the night was over. And many times those penises were brought to impressive orgasms for all the women to enjoy. This is where Kimberly and Irene had perfected their hand skills. And the coup de grace that was to cap off his summertime frolicking was his being ordered to perform, with the blessing of all three of his mistresses, for this demanding group of debauchees.

Craig felt a slight twinge in his balls as he recalled the leather cock ring that Kelly had expertly attached to his genital area during many of his milking sessions, and which she had used on that final night as she paraded him around the dance floor for all the women to see. He was exhibited like a piece of horseflesh and he loved it. His huge, stiff penis, made even more pronounced by its forced encasement within the cock ring, amazed the lecherous group, and Kelly had to fight off the more aggressive types who sought to claim his penis for her own.

The cock ring had enabled Craig's teachers to both masturbate and perform fellatio on him without having worry about him ejaculating in their hands or mouths. The ring prevented that from happening, yet it also provided him with unrelenting, exquisite pleasure. He laughed when he remembered the funny looking contraption called a "ball stretcher," which was nothing more than a leather-type sack that could be stretched to accommodate his very large testicles. The ball stretcher could be snapped into place, allowing his sperm-laden spheres to remain about four inches away from his body. It sensitized his testicles to the point that he could feel every deft movement of their fingers no matter how gently they rubbed him. Hours later, when they finally removed the sack, his balls would hang even lower than normal, swollen to twice their size with a heavy amount of semen waiting to be coaxed out by their expert hands.

He could never forget when Irene had allowed all 98 women in attendance at the country club that night to come up to the dais and take turns masturbating his magnificent prick. And all of them gladly did so, some with the ulterior motive of getting him to cum, but all with the sense of utter enjoyment. One woman, who had to be in her early 60s, fisted him with hard, rapid strokes, in an attempt to provoke a cumshot. But even though Craig was immensely turned on by the attractive older woman, the cock ring was persistent in doing its job, and after a full two minutes of fierce stroking, the frustrated woman gave up and returned to her seat clutching her tired arm.

This ribald show went on for over two hours until at last the young man could stand no more. Sensing his need to ejaculate, Irene removed the cock ring and ordered him to masturbate himself to completion before the expectant crowd. Having seated themselves in the front row of chairs next to their screaming comrades, Irene, Kimberly, and Kelly encouraged their protégé to give the ladies what they so desperately wanted to see. As Craig looked around him he saw a sea of faces—some pretty, some plain—but all concentrated on his prick and the huge load of sperm that was demanding to be released.

Directly in front of him sat Irene, her cute face all aglow, proud of the man-boy she had educated in the ways of female dominance. To her left sat Kimberly, her long sexy legs crossed in cheesecake fashion, which she knew drove Craig wild with lust. She had taken off her shoes so that she could wiggle her lovely feet back and forth as if she were masturbating his turgid prick from a distance. Kelly sat a few seats away, laughing as she followed each frantic movement of Craig's pumping fist.

Craig felt his heart beat loudly in his chest as he remembered the women's good-natured laughter and cheers while he steadily brought himself to orgasm before their eyes. Thanks to the training he had received, he felt no sense of embarrassment as he masturbated himself. The only thing he felt was a tremendous sense of excitement and an overwhelming desire to please—the same feelings he had experienced during all of his earlier milking sessions. The only difference now was that he was performing to a crowd, and he, to his own surprise, was proving to be nothing less than a consummate showman.

He sighed with pleasure as he remembered how the sperm rose up in his shaft, compelling his hand to bring him to orgasm. He knew he was going to ejaculate soon. The women seemed to know it too and had cheered him on incessantly. During the final moments when he was just about to cum, he noticed that some women left their seats and came close to the dais to better observe him. This thrilled him greatly, as he always loved the type of woman who was somewhat, but not overly, aggressive. He looked at their legs and their hands, two areas of the female body that greatly enticed him, and imagined shooting ropes of sperm all over them. He watched their expectant faces, how they laughed and made teasing remarks with one another as they encouraged him to jerk off for them. He remembered seeing one very raunchy woman pumping her fist up and down over an imaginary prick as she licked her upper lip and grinned lewdly. But most of all, he remembered one very attractive middle-aged woman with huge breasts who sat to his immediate left and who kept a big glob of whipped cream on the edge of her tongue, treating it as it were sperm, playing with it unashamedly as she sucked it in and out of her mouth several times while trying to keep from laughing. Unaccountably, it was this simple lascivious act that had finally served to push him over the edge.

All at once the room became completely silent, and then suddenly exploded with a huge roar as the first jet of sticky spunk was violently expelled from his excited tool. Higher and higher went the creamy salvo, careening over the heads of every woman in the first several rows, finally finding its mark on the tiffany chandelier about a dozen feet away. Craig remembered the look on Irene's face as she struggled to comprehend the significance of this great feat, and how she buried her face in Kimberly's arm as she was overtaken by a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Kimberly was still looking at the chandelier, her mouth agape, amused at the sight of the thick strands of sperm that hung obscenely from the crystal spears. She turned her head just in time to see Craig's rapidly stroking hand bring forth an awesome double-decker rope of creamy white spunk that splashed head on into the torsos of several women sitting just behind his incredulous teachers. The outburst of laughter was like a tidal wave of sound that beat down upon his naked body, enervating him, charging him. He saw faces covered in sperm, women spitting out thick streams of slimy paste, hands reaching for anything to wipe off the offending liquid. A few women ran straight for the toilets. And over all this commotion, a thick wash of sound in the form of deafening laughter and clapping hands.

And then, something unexpected happened: something that he never could have imagined. To this day it has remained a point of contention between himself and his three former mistresses, but it nevertheless did occur, much to everyone's surprise and delight.

Even as the second volley of cum had succeeded in drenching those closest to the errant spray, another thicker and more substantial eruption was soon to follow. Craig likened the feeling to a volcano that spits forth a few relatively mild rivulets of lava, and then erupts suddenly with intense force, spilling its hot contents over the entire landscape in a spectacularly hellish show. And this is exactly what he did.

From somewhere in the pit of his low-hanging balls, his wildly pumping fist coaxed out a succession of white bursts: long, stringy ropes of cum that followed one upon the other without pause, flying high into the air like a fireworks display and coming down upon the heads of the amazed and amused audience like a shower of lava. The crowd roared. The first few rows were bathed in spunk, which fell down upon them as if they had been caught in a brief, but intense, summer rain shower. Irene, Kimberly, and Kelly had been among those who were so christened, but instead of trying to escape from the cum shower, they laughed and let themselves be bathed in its creamy effluence.

After two or three more explosive bursts of cum sailed out into the audience, Craig's ponderous weapon finally grew silent. It had been an unprecedented display of male virility, and the women stood up and applauded him enthusiastically. Craig had stood there in front of them, his prick and hands covered in sperm, smiling broadly. But most significant of all, he had pleased his mistresses beyond their highest expectations, and this satisfied him to no end. The culmination of months of training had paid off handsomely. His adventures with Irene, Kimberly, and Kelly were now over, but unbeknownst to him, he was getting ready to embark on a brand new adventure that would take him to places he had never been. And Paris was just the beginning.

These prurient thoughts had managed to get Barney out his mind for a short time. But now, as he felt himself drifting off to sleep at last, the far away sound of girlish laughter that he had heard while talking to Barney on the phone came back to him. Barney's unexpected departure still troubled him greatly, but sleep finally, mercifully, overtook him.