Arlene arrived with Tom and Jim in tow. She wanted to make a grand entrance, so she told them to strip.
"Out here?" Tom seemed surprised.
"Yes, out here." The two men did as asked.
"Now that's more like it. C'mon boys, stiffen those puppies up. First impressions last the longest."
"Who we impressing again," Jim asked?
"Girls, that's who; cock-crazy, dick-loving girls. This is your big chance. But a word of warning, you're gonna see a big black guy built like Mount Rushmore, but forget about him. Focus on the girls, okay?"
"Okay," Tom said, "but no vaginas. They're a turnoff."
Jim laughed. "See if they'll take it in the butt," he said.
"That's sick," replied Arlene, "but you know what, it might just be sick enough to work." Tom was a work-in-progress, she thought, whereas Jim was a quick learner. She always wondered what a good ass fucking would feel like, and who knows, maybe she'd find out tonight; redwood boy better watch out. In her wildest dreams Arlene never imagined how much she'd like being in control of gorgeous men with humungous dongs, and if they were gay, so what; that might even be better. Hanging with Jane had brought out Arlene's freaky side, though one cannot forget that long before she met Jane she had sucked cock at a male stripper show and anonymously emailed the video to her boss.
Herman shrieked with joy when he opened the door. "Miss Jane," he called out. "You won't believe this."
"Stand aside, junior," Arlene said. "Pick up their clothes and bring them inside." Grabbing each stud by the arm, they sauntered into the living room.
The next time Herman opened the door it was to let Marlow and Tony in. The muscular dude did a double take when he saw Herman. "Hey, I know you," he exclaimed. Turning to Marlow, he said, "he's the peeper; the one I was telling you about."
Herman was busted - he had gone to the well too many times. On his second spy mission he lingered; fascinated and aroused, watching them fuck. "Is that true," Marlow demanded? "Are you the peeper?"
"Look at him," Tony said, referencing Herman's nakedness and cock-clamp. "Oh yeah, he's the peeper. Who else would walk around like that?"
"Well, you for one," Marlow reminded him. "But maybe not the clamp. It would crack under the strain."
"Oh baby," he cooed, "when you talk like that it makes me ant to...well, you know what?"
"Yes I do." Marlow said, purring right back at Tony. "So I guess we really can't be mad at him. I mean, I think I'd be more worried if he didn't peep." She was a little peeved that this naked pervert-boy had spied on her, but seeing him in person, he looked harmless, even vulnerable. Maybe it was the clamp. "You know," she said half-jokingly, "I ought to be pissed. I should have Tony beat you up." But the truth was that she was more flattered than angry, even titillated, that he was getting his rocks off fantasizing about her.
Tony stepped inside. "Holy crap," he guffawed. "You won't believe this!"
Four naked, boned-up men were lined up in a row, with penises so prominent that even from the hallway Marlow could tell they were major-league dicks. She was an expert by now, courtesy of the Club, aka the Royal Penis. Yes, Marlow now considered herself an expert. Bagging a billionaire was easy - all she had to do was shake her booty and make sure he remembered to take his Viagra, but Tony was a sexual athlete, and he had definitely upped her game.
Jim was currently having his cock measured by Jane. It soared majestically in the air, angling upward like the leaning tower of Pisa. "Stand still," she said, "stop fidgeting."
His cock responded well to the warmth of a female hand. It was catnip to a cock connoisseur like Jane. Expertly laying out the tape measure, starting from where the shaft met the nut-sack, she carefully ran it up the underside of Jim's tree all the way to his pee-hole. "Ten and seven-eighths," she announced. "You were right, Leeny."
"It ain't the length, it's the girth, right?" Arlene was still hoping for a redwood rear-ender, so hopefully Jane would find another dick to her liking.
Marlow and Tony watched. "Wait until they get a look at yours," she whispered. "They'll go nuts." The muscleman slid his hand under her dress and squeezed her butt cheek, which caused the front of her garment to rise up slightly, and Herman, who had been riveted on her crotch, caught a quick view of a triangular panty patch. Mission accomplished!
Pete was next to be measured. "Remind me again why we need him," Connie had asked, when he first arrived.
"He's got the spa. And we need someone to be the coach, or the boss, or whatever the fuck we end up doing."
Pete was on the wrong side of forty, but he was still virile, horny and kinky. He liked sex of all kinds, but his particular craving was having his prostate massaged by an aggressive domme. He was very proud of his nine-inch member, and while this often made him the smallest cock in a roomful of donkeys, he knew that he was way above average, so bring it on.
"He's crude," Connie said. "I wouldn't want to fuck him."
Jane cackled. "Relax," she said, "for what I got in mind, the only sex he'll be having is with Herman."
Connie laughed at the irony. "That's the perfect punishment for him."
"Maybe, maybe not. I think our man Pete's got a bone for Herman."
"No way, he's always with a gorgeous woman..."
"Of course," replied Jane; "he's got money, and he's a fucking horn-dog; that's all it takes." After a brief pause, she added: "damn, he was fucking good at getting girls. I mean, you've seen the videos, you've seen the sluts...what do you think of this one?"
Connie studied Jenn, Pete's date for the evening. He referred to her a Jewish American Princess, and her Brooklyn accent and aquiline nose certainly lent credence to it. Jenn wasn't glamorous like Marlow, nor did she possess Connie's earthy sexiness. She wasn't a beauty like Jane, or a slut like Arlene, but she was curvy, exceeding curvy, which she showed off by wearing a mini-dress of tight, clingy material that flattered her immensely, for she also had a good-sized booty, in contrast to most of the women who appeared in Donkey videos. "Look," Jane said, "she's got a whip or something sticking out her boot. She's a bitch; that's Pete's thing. You know what, I like her. I'd let her do me." Jane ruminated some more. "Christ, I'd even be her fucking slave for a night."
Connie looked at her and giggled. "No more weed for you...but if you want to make it a threesome, count me in. Hey, by the way, where's Hideki?"
Jane signed. "I don't know. Probably upstairs with his flunkies, working or fucking; who knows?"
"Everything all right?"
"I guess; he just doesn't like to fuck me anymore. He fucks Herman more than he does me."
"Marriage is a bitch," observed Connie
Jenn's boots extended above her knee and were one hundred percent latex, she her makeup, while bordering on garish, was at the same time subdued, almost understated, meaning it was expertly applied. It was a fine line Jenn walked between bimbo and elegant, and for now she was pulling it off. Her long dark-blonde hair was clearly lightened, but so what? She passed the eyeball test and the penis test; she was a boner-bender. Jane didn't know her from Adam, but she knew that she wanted her for the project she had in mind.
Jenn's style of getting men aroused was to bark orders at them. "Stroke harder...stand straight...hands at your side...bounce it up and down...okay, you're hard."
Pete stood at attention as nine inches was called out." He wore a shit-eating grin, his cock bobbing up and down in obedience.
Tom's lengthy rod hung parallel to the ground, stiff and straining. He had chosen to stroke it himself, to reach maximum hardness quicker, and he didn't disappoint, proudly showing off the fruits of his labor. His shaft wasn't entirely straight; at one point it rose slightly, causing Jane to call it a 'shillelagh', as in, "What do you think of shillelagh-boy?"
Marlow laughed. Turning to her date she asked, "what you do think, Tony?"
"Not bad, but not great," he replied. "You've seen bigger."
"Well, what's the verdict," Marlow asked, returning the focus to Tom as Jenn finished her measuring.
"Eleven and five-eighths."
"No way," Arlene blurted out. "He's an even dozen." The situation called for a second opinion, so she took the tape measure from Jenn and knelt down to address the issue. She ran her hand lovingly along his penis, in search of another millimeter or two, or it could have been that she just liked stroking big cocks. Squeezing the tip with her forefinger and thumb, she held it out like a trophy for all to see. Jane nudged Marlow. "Look at my house boy. He's positioned himself to look up her dress."
"Interesting," she replied. "Does that explain the uh..."
"It was either that or get him neutered," Jane said. "He can't control himself. It's my fault of course; I spoiled him, but I'm telling you, if I took the clamp off he'd be rubbing his dick against your leg right now and squirting all over you.
"Damn," Arlene said. "Eleven and five-eighths, you were right." But it's still a big one, so no worries."
"And you got a new nickname too," said Jane, "shillelagh-boy."
"It looks more like a tomahawk," said Connie." Everyone laughed, including Tom.
"Tomahawk Tom." Jane smiled. "I like it."
William reigned supreme. For all the talk that Tom might best him, William's twelve inches was still the biggest; and the baddest too. He was the original muscular black Adonis with the Donkey seal of approval, but he had been eying Tony warily. He knew him from somewhere, but couldn't quite place him. A man of William's size need not fear anyone, and we're not just referring to penises, and he quickly laid down the gauntlet. "What about you," he asked? "Show us what you got." William was brimming with confidence, a massive, foot-long erection confirming his status as number-one stud.
"Be careful what you wish for," Marlow joked. "Tony was Mister Nude America." William gulped as soon as she said it, suddenly remembering how he knew Tony.
"My god," William gasped, "you're Tony Grant. I know you." William walked over to where Tony stood and, without being prompted, and to everyone's astonishment, he got down on his knees, lowered Tony's trousers, and began to fellate him.
"What the fuck's going on?" Connie was whispering frantically in Jane's ear.
"I don't know. Maybe he's paying homage to the King."
"What? You think?"
"Sure, why not. He's bigger...Jesus Christ, that thing is fucking scary - I mean, look at that fucking thing!"
