How very weird it felt to be walking up to the Norton's front door, erotically excited over the anticipated and inevitable sexual encounter but at the same time apprehensive over the unfamiliar surroundings; being on foreign ground. Hell, I was only going next door!
Mrs Norton greeted me in the hallway; I had learnt her name now - Moira. What a suitable name (old fashioned even) for a normal middle-aged suburban housewife; except this lady wasn't normal. Normal housewives of her age don't answer the door to neighbours with their nipples erect and showing under loose chiffon shirts, their breasts held aloft by a black rubber peephole brassiere. The equally sheer floral skirt was inappropriate given that it betrayed the fact that underneath she wore traditional stockings and suspenders, which in turn were attached to a tightly laced up black corset.
I was late arriving due to answering an unexpected phone call from my husband who was still away on his trip.
"Of course I am behaving myself," I told him, "Are you?"
The phone rang again almost immediately and it was Brenda to whom I told a lie and said I was having an early night and wouldn't be joining her to go out for a drink.
I walked into Moira's living room noticing her husband wasn't present but quickly realised he must be down in the basement as noise filtered up through the floor. I was trembling a little as Moira openly admired my very short skirt and tits that sported a cleavage easily comparable to hers. Given that I knew how the evening might progress I wore no underwear.
"Whatever happens tonight," I told Moira, "I must not be left with any tell-tale marks. I want you to promise!"
The woman smiled, "Don't worry," she reassured me in a soft velvety voice.
I let her see that I too was openly ogling and admiring her, already feeling aroused knowing we were both lusting after each other.
"When you're ready we'll go downstairs -- the party has already begun," she said.
"Party?" I knew nothing of a party but felt a surge of excitement run through me knowing that I was about to step down into a dark cellar, not knowing just what depraved ideas and intentions this couple had in mind.
"Remember," I said, "No lasting marks!"
How deliciously decadent it felt being aware that I was essentially giving permission, fully willing in fact, that this couple could tie me, shackle me, spank me, paddle me, while they sexually assaulted me both front back and in mouth! An admission on my part that I would enjoy and receive sexual pleasure from almost any act performed or made to perform.
I carefully balanced my cocktail as I descended the wooden steps ahead of Mrs N. The diffused light was too dim making it a little precarious. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I scanned the room looking for old Norton, noticing how tastefully it was decorated and not the damp cold cellar I had expected. A nice light fitting hung from the wall but also some other curious fittings too. A large contraption, two in fact, sat in the corner and between us a selection of benches and chairs. How out of place seemed the double bed. The lights slowly increased in brightness as though some person had stood ready by the dimmer switch. I almost expected people to jump out and shout "Surprise!" like at an unexpected birthday bash.
Yes, I was surprised all right! The voice that spoke first belonged to the man who had first invaded my back passage the other night -- the man who had 'tanned' my arse and fucked me. Confused, my head turned to see his pal, already stripped naked below the waist, his cock at attention.
"You knew each other -- all the time you have been fooling me!" I hissed but the next voice, a female voice - prevented me from waiting for a reaction.
As one of the contraptions slid along a rail fastened to the ceiling, operated electronically by an equally undressed and cock-ready Norton I spied no other than my friend Brenda. On her knees, lash in one hand, she had paused from sucking the penis of a young man who was tethered to a large cross, an X-shaped wooden device designed so a person of whatever size could be manacled and strapped to the thing by a series of adjustable straps. It seemed that the DIY talents of old Mr Norton from next door extended to more than just fixing cupboards and the plumbing.
The young man gazed at me through watery eyes then squirmed as Brenda, sucking hard on his dick moved far enough away to give her arm space to lash his testicles and erect dick. I gazed back at the boy with astonished amazement, guilty and shamed now that I was there to witness the torture and assault; for the young man gazing back at me wasn't just any young man, he was known to me. Naked and manacled to the cross, having his cock alternately whipped then sucked, was Simon. Simon was the young nephew of my friend Brenda! Brenda was sucking, licking, then lashing, the penis of the son of her sister. I had to repeat this fact mentally many times, in many different ways, before my brain accepted and registered the enormity of the depravity. In front of others Brenda was whipping, and sucking the cock of her young nephew!
The others were undressed, dicks hard -- had they been fucking Brenda, allowing the boy to watch how his aunt enjoys cock?
The boy grimaced as I looked into his eyes. The lash had cracked across his erection. Lowering my gaze I observed the red bulbous knob-end almost glowing, a swollen beacon on the end of a thick long pole. In spite of my shock I found it impossible to avoid staring, thrilled at the sight of Simon's magnificent penis, almost too big, out of proportion to his slim boyish body, his blonde Adonis innocent looks. Dirty thoughts and memories came flooding back. I remembered the many times I had secretly lusted after this boy, using his image as a fantasy to aid masturbation. I recalled the times when I had been careless with my state of dress hoping for him to notice me in a sexual, not motherly way. Oh those days when I saw a large bulge form in his tight jeans, the outline of his young cock. Simon was twenty-five now, a man, but still a boy in terms of his behaviour (and to me!)
Here he was, naked in front of me. How jealous I felt that all this time, maybe for years, Brenda had been secretly able to sexually enjoy her sister's son. As the whip cracked across his cock the boy winced and yelped. One of the men had gone to his rear and was doing something to his arse. It was an un-natural sight for the boy to be able to maintain such a powerful erection through such pain. Simon, I realised with amazement, was not being tortured against his will, but was experiencing sexual pleasure at the hands of his tormentors. Simon was perversely receiving sexual gratification from his aunt's use of the whip -- and mouth!
Norton pressed a button on his control box and lowered the cross.
