Jerboy Life

She made me beat off again.

I felt like an idiot, kneeling there in the kitchen while my wife and her mother enjoyed their beverages. Pants around my ankles, holding my balls and presenting my hardening dick.

"See? He gets off on doing this," my wife said mockingly as my member surged to full erection. The shame was making my heart race.

Mrs. Landtree's covered her mouth. Then she arched a dark eyebrow and her hands fell away to reveal a salacious smile.

"Just for you, or other women, too?"

Sarah, my wife of seven years, adjusted her chair at the counter above me to turn toward her middle-aged mother. Mrs. Landtree adjusted to face me directly. I watched her greedy eyes rape my cock. I heard Sarah's sweet voice say, "Ask her, jerkboy."

"Please. Please may I masturbate . . . for you."

My mother-in-law's laughter echoed off the pans hanging in the kitchen and inside my empty skull. I was just a stupid animal when Sarah took over like this - primal urges, needs, reflexes. The humiliation was overwhelming if I allowed myself to think.

"That's what he asked me, Mom. I couldn't believe my ears, or my eyes when I let him do it. He's completely obscene. This is what I married."

"I see. So. Is he going to . . . do it? Right here in my kitchen?"

"If you want. I let him get close to, you know, getting off . . . and then I made him tell me who else he wanted to beat off in front of before he could make his mess."

"Oh, my." Mrs. Landtree leaned down and held my chin in her palm. I could see down her blouse. See her white bosom hanging, straining against her expensive skin-tone brassiere.

She noticed me staring and just said, "He doesn't have any hair down there. Like a little boy. Do you need to play with yourself for Mama?"

Sarah snorted derisively. "I think you're catching on, Mom. Boobs and playing with his pee-pee are his thing."

Mrs. Landtree ran her fingers into the hair on my head. I was dying to rub my dick. "Girl, there are a lot worse things that could be wrong with him. Is he devoted to you?"

"He's showing his devotion right now, in his own pathetic way."

"His thing doesn't look so pathetic." My stomach did flips as she gazed downward. Clear pre-cum was oozing over my angry knob.

Sarah sighed. "It gets the job done. Ask her again."

"Please . . . may I masturbate for you?"

"Why?"

"He's only allowed to ask permission to beat off," Sarah said. "And beg for permission to, you know, let it squirt."

Mrs. Landtree laughed at that one. I felt my ego leaving my body, seeping through the floor . . . kneeling there holding up my hard dick by my balls in front of my matronly mother-in-law.

"I want to know why."

"Fine. Have him tell you while he's masturbating. Doing it is like some kind of truth drug for him."

"Hmmm. Okay." Mrs. Landtree leaned back on her chair and surreptitiously undid a button on her blouse.

"Beat off for Mama."

The sensation of touching my aching cock infused my body, mind and soul. I closed my eyes as my hand worked the dickslime over and around my glans.

"Eyes up, jerkboy. Look at my mother while you degrade yourself."

Crushing shame hearing my ballsack slap and gazing stupidly, longingly at Mrs. Landtree, knowing she would never forget seeing me like this, knowing I was beating off again in front of my wife . . . .

"I like this," I saw Mrs. Landtree mutter softly.

"He'll do it whenever you want, Mom. My gift to you."

"My own, what did you call him? My own jerky?"

"Tell her."

"Jerkboy," I panted. "I want to be your jerkboy."

"Slow down there, buster," Mrs. Landtree said. I interpreted her words as a command and it emptied my consciousness.

"I want a nice long show." She leaned forward and held my chin again.

"Look at those sad eyes. Tell me why you're doing this."

"I . . . need to. I love you."

"Oh, good christ," Sarah hissed.

"Mama loves you, too. Why is . . . showing me your dick so important?"

"I have to." My hand massaged my meat as I leaned back to present my genitals to her.

"I don't understand. Sarah, are you making him do this?"

"Forcing him is part of his kink, Mom."

"Wow. Go really fast for a minute. Show me, boy, but don't you come!"

I flogged my penis and thrust my hips in a wanton, degenerate display. There was no going back now.

Sarah soon made me stop, lose the pants, get on all fours and turn my ass toward my mother-in-law. I knew this caused my balls to hang and bounce obscenely between my thighs when I stroked my cock. Utter humiliation suffused me.

"I've never seen a man do this," Mrs. Landtree said conversationally to her daughter.

"Doesn't look like much of a man to me," Sarah replied.

"Don't be so mean. He's very vulnerable right now."

"That he is." I groaned at the toe of a shoe tapping my nuts.

"May I?"

"He's your jerkboy. You can beat his balls, or make him do it. You can beat his butt, too."

I heard my wife's voice and felt a gnawing dread. Then I felt the manicured fingers of my mother-in-law cupping my scrotum.

"Mom, get off the floor."

"Shush. He's like a little pony, with his dick hanging. Let go of it. I want to feel these smooth haunches."

"Let's put him on a table, then, and stand over him. It's not dignified for you down there on the carpet."

Sarah stood, snapped her fingers and walked. I followed on my hands and knees into the living room. She cleared the coffee table of books and magazines, snapped her fingers and pointed. I climbed onto the low walnut table.

"There," my wife said as she plopped herself onto the sofa. "He's all yours."

"And he's dripping. Get back to rubbing it, boy." I felt Mrs. Landtree feel my bottom and stroke my legs. Her touch was bringing me to orgasm, and soon.

"Please Mama, may I come?" I whined.

"This is too rich! Let go of it, roll over and show me."

I got onto my back, grabbed my ankles with my arms on the inside of my legs and forced my knees open. Splayed, my cock, balls and anus were utterly exposed for their view.

"What's this?"

"One of his positions. Like a doggie, he's showing his subservience."

"Outrageous. I want to feel it. If he's my jerkboy . . . can I jerk him myself?"

My eyes locked with Sarah's. Maybe she had thought her mother would just be content to watch. I saw an evil smile rise in the corners of her pretty mouth.

"Go right ahead."

Sarah watched her mother tentatively grasp my member. I saw her squirm a little when Mrs. Landtree used her other hand to massage my balls as she stroked me. I was pretty sure this was arousing my wife.

"You can use him however you want, Mom," Sarah mouthed. "Just leave enough hard dick for me."

I groaned under my mother-in-law's ministrations. A finger was sneaking its way down my perineum toward my anus.

"How many times can he come before he's . . . used up?"

"I haven't let him squirt for, what is it? Nearly two weeks babe?"

The finger was circling and worming now. My body was going to be finger-fucked in front of my wife. My mind struggled between the humiliation of reality and the warm ocean of submission to womanhood.

"Two weeks! Sarah that's cruel. A man this age needs to . . . ."

"He's not a man. Not like this. Look at him. Wriggling his butt hoping you'll slip a finger into his sissy hole."

I heard Sarah's voice and felt another wave of shame. She was going to make me show her mother I was an asswhore, too.

"His what?" Mrs. Landtree smiled and winked at me when she got her finger inside.

"Let go of your ankles and spread your ass for her. Show my mom what kind of sissy husband I've married."

That's when I rolled my head to the side, grabbed my cheeks, pulled back my knees and showed Mrs. Landtree I wanted to be fucked in the anus.

"You're just full of surprises, little boy! Are you going to come for Mama, right here in my living room, while I finger you . . . right . . . here?"

Cock in hand, she knew I was close. Sarah's mother flicked and jabbed at my asshole while she tortured my glans. When she leaned down so that I could smell her perfumed and powdered breasts, I knew I couldn't hold off.

"Please!" was all I could blurt before I spurted into my own face. I cried out from the chasm of complete devotion to my wife and her mother, involuntarily expending myself for them forever . . . or as long as they would let me. Whenever they would let me.

When I opened my eyes I saw Sarah had strategically placed a sofa cushion in her lap to hide the hand that was down the front of her yoga pants. While her mother went for a towel to clean me up, I watched my wife's glazed eyes squeeze shut and then she sighed as she had one of her small, quiet orgasms.

Mrs. Landtree seemed sort of proud to have brought me off and was enjoying rubbing the cum off my face, chest and dick. The rough terrycloth towel aroused me again.