This story is based on an actual incident that occurred around 1980. I have altered some identifying information to protect the anonymity of my wife "Lynn," our friend "Nelly," and me, "Ben." The experience of that Saturday afternoon has spawned many masturbation fantasies for the past 25 years, and so I've added a few details from my imagination to spice it up a bit. A very few very close friends may be able to recognize us in the story, but if they are Literotica readers, I don't really mind if they do.
Lynn and I were about 30 at the time, Nelly was a year or so younger. Lynn and Nelly had become friends while getting their master's degrees in counseling psychology. Lynn went on for her Ph.D. at a university in Connecticut, where she and I met. Nelly, being a Christian, worked as a youth minister at a church for awhile before entering the Master of Divinity degree (M.Div.) program at Yale University, which she finished about the time of this story. She was working as an assistant minister at the time. Lynn and I are atheists, and playfully refer to ourselves as "infidels." We three had many thought-provoking conversations about religion and theology, without making any effort to "convert" anyone else to our own way of thinking – Nelly is the only Christian I've ever met who was able to do that. We lived in Connecticut at the time of this story, but have since moved west.
Lynn and Nelly are both petite women with trim figures. Lynn is 5' 2" and Nelly an inch or two shorter. Lynn is busty (a source of great pleasure for me, and for her, since she enjoys my enjoyment of her bountiful breasts). Nelly's breasts (as I found on the occasion being related here) are smaller, but beautifully shaped. Nelly always dressed conservatively, wearing loose clothes and baggy tops that hid her very attractive figure – an unfortunate consequence of Christian guilt about her sexuality. Her most noticeable characteristic was her face – she had had severe acne as a teenager, which left her face pock-marked. She also had had an eye injury as a child, which resulted in some additional facial disfigurement. Feeling unattractive, and being repressed about her sexuality, Nelly had never seriously dated anyone. My hypothesis, which I once shared with her and which she did not deny, was that her involvement in the church and pursuit of a career as a minister was a way to avoid dealing with her fears of inadequacy due to unattractiveness, and her ambivalence about sexuality. Still, as Lynn and I were to discover, Nelly had a secret fantasy life that was richly sexual.
Lynn and I, on the other hand, were unabashed about our sexuality. We had been together about two years at the time – we later married and now have two children. We had sex on a whim, whenever either of us expressed an interest . . . which was often. We went to Misquamicut, Rhode Island, several times each summer for the nude beach there. I have an unusually long penis (eleven inches erect, five to seven inches flaccid, depending on how cold the water is) which dangles and flops from side to side when I walk unclothed, along with my low-hanging testicles in their loose sac. Part of our pleasure on the nude beach was watching others' reactions to seeing us as we strolled along the water's edge. I loved seeing men stare lustfully at Lynn's large, soft, swaying breasts with nearly silver-dollar sized light brown nipples, and she loved seeing women stare disbelievingly at my dangling penis and testicles. We joked that putting each other on display for others to ogle hungrily was our foreplay; we would later rush back to our motel room and feast on each other's bodies.
We also participated in nude massage parties where six to twelve couples would meet at someone's home for a potluck dinner followed by everyone getting naked and taking turns giving massages. Typically, two or three couples would share a massage table, each individual being the recipient of a 20-minute massage by the others' well-oiled hands. For the first ten minutes the recipient was face down, and the second ten minutes face up. Except for rolling over when cued, the recipient was to be completely passive and silent. Lynn's petite form and large breasts, and my over-sized genitals made us favorite massage partners. Breasts and genitals were treated just like any other part of the body, not as explicitly sexual organs, and so were freely touched during the massage as were shoulders and thighs. Inevitably, sexual arousal occurred, although it didn't lead to intercourse – at least during the party. Each couple no doubt exercised their arousal as soon as they got home. Lynn and I always did.
Despite the norm of regarding all body parts equally, the other men at our table always enjoyed massaging Lynn's breasts, and the other women enjoyed massaging my genitals, which usually produced an erection. Although we didn't talk while a massage was in process, playful remarks were often uttered at the end of my massage about the size of my erect penis. My masseuses commented about the difficulty they were having in "relaxing my tubular muscle" that apparently was "in painful spasm" despite their valiant efforts to "work out its obvious tension." Sometimes the slick, oily hands of two or three women stroking my erection at the same time produced the predictable result: my contribution of a quantity of additional slick fluid to the viscous mix in their hands.
Lynn eventually proposed masturbation games and contests for the women to perform on the men after all massages had been completed. Some couples preferred to only watch. I was an eager participant, however, and Lynn enjoyed putting "her" cock on display for other women's enjoyment. She devised devilishly creative contests, putting the other women into competition for who could most sensitively judge when my ejaculation was about to erupt. She showed them how to hold my balls firmly in one hand, hooking the index finger of the "ball hand" around the base of my penis, and stroking my shaft slowly and deliberately with the other – the "cock hand" – in order to know when to halt stimulation just in the nick of time.
Lynn had perfected the art of bringing me to the very precipice of ejaculation, sensing my impending orgasm by the involuntary retraction of my balls and the sudden hardening of the base of my penis as semen began to enter my shaft. She then paused, keeping me in exquisite arousal, teasing me mercilessly until she was ready to let me erupt. Sometimes the game involved making me guess a number between one and ten before each round. If I guessed the correct number, she (or her understudy) would continue stroking until I had a complete orgasm. If I guessed a wrong number, she would slowly stroke me to the brink, then stop abruptly, saying, "Sorry, wrong number. Guess again." After a minute or so of making my throbbing cock "suffer" without more stimulation, on display to all observers, she would repeat the process. I would never know if I had guessed the correct number until she finally let me ejaculate. She and the other women seemed to enjoy watching my emotional intensity as my orgasm swept through my convulsing body.
Other women in the massage group were eager students of Lynn's cock-teasing techniques, and I was a favorite "victim." Lynn would usually ask one woman to stand at the head of the table, leaning forward so her breasts hung directly over my face, while another woman practiced the cock-teasing technique. Sometimes I was allowed to fondle her hanging breasts and suck on her nipples while my genitals were receiving "the treatment"; other times, I was instructed to remain completely passive, my "consolation prize" for guessing the wrong number being to fondle the breasts that happened to be over my face until the women exchanged places and I made another attempt to guess the correct number. I always suspected that it didn't matter whether I guessed the right number or not – Lynn and the other women just kept "torturing" me until they decided to finally give me release from my torment. Of course, I loved being the "victim" in these torture games.
Lynn and I became close friends with one of the couples we met in the massage group and occasionally would exchange partners for sex. Other than that, we weren't really "swingers."
Now you have some of the background leading to our experience with Nelly that is the basis of this story.
Lynn and Nelly were close friends who regularly met for lunch and got together on other occasions. I was included sometimes, and felt fully accepted by the two women. In fact, it often seemed that they engaged in very frank "girl talk," hardly noticing my presence. I enjoyed being present and generally didn't intrude into their exchanges unless my input was invited.
Being single, Nelly still lived with her parents in a nice home in the countryside of eastern Connecticut with a secluded pool set among dense trees in the back yard. On the occasion described here, her parents were vacationing in Europe and Nelly had the house to herself. She invited Lynn and me over for a Saturday at the pool.
Lynn wore a bikini that showed many of her charms. I wore, as usual, a bulky pair of trunks to hide the eleven-inch erections that I frequently get when I'm around Lynn in her bikini. Nelly wore a much more conservative two-piece bathing suit.
It was a sunny and unusually warm afternoon. Between dips in the pool, we sat at a table under an umbrella, sipping an occasional beer. The conversation turned to Nelly's social life, her lack of a boyfriend, and her sense of hopelessness about ever finding one. She admitted to being attracted to men, although she was still a virgin and had had virtually no experience, never even having kissed a man. Nevertheless, she admitted with a shy smile, "I have a vivid fantasy life."
Lynn, a skilled counselor and interviewer, asked Nelly to elaborate on what she finds attractive about men and to say more about her fantasies. Her somewhat evasive answer finally led to a surprising admission: "I like penises," she said quietly. "I think about them a lot, and think I would like to 'get acquainted' with one some day." She looked at me sheepishly, seeming to have just realized that I was present. With some embarrassment, she asked me, "Does that surprise you, Ben, that a preacher-woman would be interested in penises?"
"No, not at all," I replied. "Seems completely natural to me."
Lynn picked up the questioning. "What is it about penises that interests you, Nelly?"
Feeling more comfortable, Nelly answered, "I'm intrigued by how they get big, and spurt semen – not that I've ever seen one do it. And the bigger the better. I have a fantasy about being in control of a man's huge penis, where I have the power to decide when to let him have an orgasm that he desperately wants. He's tied up and I tease him for a long time, increasing his desire. He gets more and more needy, begging me for release. Then, when I'm ready to watch the show, I masturbate him slowly until he spurts."
She paused, looking down, seeming ashamed about what she had just said. "Oh, I shouldn't be talking about this. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything about male sexuality except what I've read in books. I don't even know for sure how to make a man ejaculate. I'm just being silly."
While Nelly was speaking, Lynn looked at me quizzically, raising her eyebrows in a questioning gesture. I knew exactly what she was asking. I shrugged and nodded my consent, indicating approval of her yet-unspoken idea.
Nelly looked up and saw our nonverbal exchange, glancing back and forth between us. "What?" she asked. "What's that about? Do you think I'm crazy?"
Lynn leaned forward toward Nelly, asking earnestly, "Would you like to see Ben's penis?"
