Return To Funnel Ch 02

Abigail Moran had retrieved the black plastic funnel from the doghouse and returned it to Ms. Crenshaw. She watched, fascinated as the woman forced it into her son’s mouth and buckled the connecting straps about his head so he would be made to keep it in place. Then she took up the semen filled dogdish and brought it up near his face.

“Now Thomas. Be a good boy for Ms. Abigail and me and swallow every last bit of your nastiness. I want it all down in your stomach where it belongs, do I make myself clear?”

He gurgled his response, trying not to meet the gaze of the pretty blonde girl in front of him.

“Good boy. Here it comes.”

With that said, Abigail watched with bright blue eyes in wide astonishment as Ms. Crenshaw dumped the creamy sperm into the open mouth of the black funnel. She combed her long fingers through her son’s hair, soothing him as he swallowed down the full load of sticky semen that filled his mouth.

“That’s it, Thomas. Eat it all up. Make mommy proud.”

Abigail was both fascinated and completely disgusted by what she was witnessing. She had heard stories of the stuff that boys made from their penises when they got too excited. Her own mother was always going on about that “horrible cream” of theirs. She had even heard about something where a girl was supposed to put a boy’s big thing in her mouth until he made his mess. That really sounded gross. To watch as this dirty young man was forced to swallow down all of the cream that he had made was something she had never thought she would see. At one point, he seemed to cough on the stuff and a whitish bubble of sperm appeared at one of his nostrils. His mother admonished him for it.

“Shame on you! I don’t want any more mess from you, young man. Finish your dinner, then I’m taking Abby in to show her around the house. The house your not allowed in.”

Dutifully, he gobbled down the remains of his forced feeding before the straps that held the funnel in place were removed. The two women then left him there in his caged section of yard to contemplate the swaying rumps of their backsides as they leisurely sauntered into the house.

Inside the comfort of her living room, Emily Crenshaw was sipping her lemonade along with her son’s new nanny, Abigail Moran. At eighteen, the teenager had led a very sheltered upbringing concerning boys and their penises, Emily thought. She began to probe her for her reactions to the milking she had participated in.

“So, Abby. What did you think of my little demonstration outside?”

Abigail thought for a moment, acutely aware of her bare pussy just under the short skirt- her panties still stretched over the head of Ms. Crenshaw’s son.

“I, um… I suppose… I guess it was sort of fun.”

“Really?” Emily raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You thought it was fun?”

“Well, I mean… I had fun teasing him. And I liked holding his… uh… balls.”

“His balls, dear? What was fun about holding my son’s balls.”

Abby cleared her throat before looking down at her saddle shoes. She was a bit embarrassed by the frank line of questioning her new employer was exerting.

“I’ve never felt a boy’s balls before. It was neat. And when his thing made a mess… that was very exciting.”

Emily chuckled, which seemed to put the young girl more at ease. “Yes. And it’s an important part of Thomas’ daily regimen. He must be thoroughly milked several times a day. The thing to remember is that it is something that should always remind him of his status. You must admit, milking a young man is rather humiliating. Isn’t it Abby?”

“Yes, Ma’am. It seems like it is.”

The room grew quiet as the two women sipped their lemonades.

Margaret Blanshtein dropped her purse onto the kitchen table and pressed the button on her answering machine. Sitting down to remove her shoes, the mechanical voice announced two messages. The first was from a telemarketer, the second from an old friend. “BEEP! Hello- Margaret. It is Isabella Fortune. I want to see if you had chat with my friend Emily. She has boy for you. He is good fun… very naughty. Call me soon. Tell me everything.”

Still in her business clothes, Margaret played with the damp toe reinforcement of her black silk stocking as she smiled to herself. She felt tingly all over. At fifty years of age, she was a striking woman, tall with wide hips and piercing blue eyes. Her ass was like cast iron due to her workout regimen and she frequently wore out the seat of her fullback panties on its muscular firmness. She wore her blond hair short, which added to her severe look. For the past month, her friend Isabella Fortune had been going on and on about this Crenshaw boy. “Funnel”, she called him. When she had told her why, Margaret had chuckled wickedly and rubbed a finger over sensible nylon panties to tease at her distended clitoris. A sperm shooting, sperm eating perverted male whom was young enough to be her son. And such a coward that his own mother still had such power over him! She had to meet this “Funnel.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sounds of whimpering coming from the basement. She realized she had left the door ajar this morning. Slipping back into her shoes, she strode imperiously over to the doorway that led down to her unfinished basement. She scowled and placed her hands on her hips as she hollered down to the darkness.

“What is it now, you asshole?”

There was silence. The whimpering coming to an abrupt halt as if in fear.

“I’m asking you a question, Marvin. What the hell are you crying about down there.”

“P…. please!”

“Please what? Spit it out, you stupid little dickhead.”

“P…please may I s…smell your stockings, Ma’am?”

Margaret Blanshtein threw her had back and laughed loudly. It was not a comforting sound.

Thomas was resting on his side. His shriveled penis lay on one thigh and the white panties with their little pink polka dots still sat snugly on his head, mocking him. The garment, with all its lace and ribbons almost made it look like a baby bonnet. Inhaling deeply, he filled his nostrils with the aromatic smells of young girl-anus. It would be evening soon, he thought. It was a time that he associated with deep embarrassment of a sexual nature. Soon the sorority house next door would be a bustle of activity as the girls who lived there came out to tease him. His cock gave a little throb at the thought of what might lay in store for him.

Emily had finished her full explanation as to what was expected of her son’s new nanny. Abigail was flushed but very excited at the prospect of what she would be allowed to… no, she corrected herself. Required to do with the naked man out back.

“Do you have any questions about your duties, Abby?”

“I… I don’t think so, Ms. Crenshaw. But I might need help… I mean, at first.”

“Well. I will always be close at hand, but you really must learn to do these things on your own. It is why I hired you after all and why I am entrusting you with my son.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best, Ms. Crenshaw.”

“You’ll do just fine, dear.”

With those words said, Emily excused herself only to return a moment later carrying a wooden paddle in one hand. She was about to instruct Abigail on how to deliver a disciplinary spanking to her son when the phone rang. With the paddle clutched in one hand, she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh… yes. Ms. Blanshtein, Isabella told me all about you. Yes. Yes, I do. Well, as far as I’m concerned- a friend of Ms. Fortune’s is a friend of mine. Yes. I see. Okay- how about this weekend. Yes. It’s no problem. You can stay in my guestroom if that’s okay. Well, I know you will have a good time. Good. I will see you then. Goodbye.”

She hung up the receiver and the two made their way back outside to Thomas and his doghouse.

Around the time that Emily was outlining the job description to Abby, Thomas was kneeling on all fours, head lowered, ass raised and with a full erection. His cock was throbbing angrily between his legs as the girls threw wads of chewed bubble gum at his naked balls. It was night and like clockwork, the sorority doors of his neighbors had opened to reveal eight young women who had marched right over to his fence. They were all very pretty and their giggles were like tinkling music. It always made him feel so self-conscious when they were in a pack like this. The ringleader was as usual, Rebecca- a short redhead with nearly flat chest, a big ass and the cutest smile he had ever seen. She wore her red hair in a pageboy cut and her black hornrimmed glasses gave her a perverse look of studiousness. Her black T-shirt had the name of some girl-band on it. Her shorts were denim cut-offs, while a pair of red and green checkered tights outlined her extremely muscular legs and helped to proclaim her as the art student that she was. A pair of combat boots completed the kinky ensemble. Most of the other girls wore sweatshirts with Greek letters on them and white shorts. A few were in tube socks and sandals, while the others went barefoot.

“Oh I nailed his balls!” There were loud laughs all around as Rebecca had landed a wad of freshly chewed pink gum to Thomas’ sac. He could feel her spit all over it.

“Okay, Stacey’s next. Go for it girl!”

Thomas flinched as the tall blond volleyball captain smacked her gum-wad against the tender area between his balls and asshole.

“Ohhhhh! Good one!” There was a chorus of agreement from her friends. Rebecca then dialed up his humiliation.

“Tommy? Could we talk for a little bit?”

He looked over his shoulder at the redhead. She looked so innocent and sincere, while all of her friends were grinning mischievously. He slowly turned around to face them on hands and knees. The panties stretched indecently across his face brought a round of snickers.

“Over here. By the fence.” She cooed.

He paused, wary of what might await him. He barely noticed Dana, a short and petite bubbly blonde freshman who was holding her hands behind her back and smiling.

“It’s okay Tommy. We just want to talk. Come on over here.”

He slowly shuffled over to them, his hands dragging through the grass. When he was about eye level with their socks, they peered over the fence partition to talk more directly to him.

“We all like your pretty pantyhose today, Tommy.” More giggles.

Sherrie Denton, a longhaired brunette with braces agreed. “Yeah- really cute, pantyface.” Outright laughter. Rebecca leaned over the fence to pull the panties off his head and tossed them to the ground.

“There he is.” She sang out. “The little pantyhose boy from next door, come to play with his girlfriends.” They all snickered about the little game she played of calling them his “girlfriends”. The blond volleyball captain squatted down beside him and pulled a pencil from her back pocket. Her tanned thighs were bulging with feminine muscle and her white sweat socks contrasted with the sun-darkened skin. The girl, Stacy, then pushed the pencil, eraser end first, through a hole in the chainlink fence to jab repeatedly at his hanging scrotum.

“Anything in there tonight, Tommy?”

He grunted from the playful ball jabbing the pencil eraser provided but watched as Dana inched closer to Rebecca who took something from her. Too late, he noticed what it was: the extremely well worn jockstrap of one of the football players. No doubt, Dana was one of the lucky player’s real girlfriends.

Without warning, Rebecca leaned back over the fence and shoved the soiled jockstrap into his mouth. Their accompanying laughter was punctuated by the return of Abigail and his mother who, he saw was carrying a wooden paddle in one hand.

Down in the dingy basement of Margaret Blanshtein, Marvin Blanshtein was being assaulted with odor. His wife of ten years was feeding him her very sweaty and very smelly stocking feet. The man was completely naked as he was kept at all times. Under the stern authority of his domineering wife, he was not allowed clothing or kindness. On his knees he was cuffed to a wooden beam that jutted up out of the floor behind him. His wife sat comfortably on a stuffed black leather chair; her heels were off and silently cooling on the floor. From his vantagepoint, she looked magnificent. Her snug suit skirt was hitched high up on her thighs, exposing so much of her silky stockings it was breathtaking. The antique silk stockings she insisted on were in vintage condition and she demanded that her dominated husband keep them that way. The white elastic straps that held them taught to her open bottom girdle seemed to creak at the strain of her thickly muscled thighs. The cruel glint in her blue eyes as she glared down at him, bathing him in the full venom of her contempt was reserved for these moments. She was wiping her sweaty soles off on his face, pushing her toes up his nostrils where the thicker stocking fabric if her toe reinforcements rubbed and left red marks on his skin.

“That’s right. Sniff your dirty stockings for dinner, Marvin. As the lowlife pervert that you are… its all your going to get. Deep snorts pig. I want to hear them.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He murmured through her smelly stockings.

He made a real meal of them. The black hosiery had that sulfurous heat of a full day in closed toe leather pumps. The feet of each stocking were actually wet with her perspiration and smeared their odors across his face. Marvin’s sizeable cock banged against his thighs as he feasted on the sweat stains that adhered to the toe reinforcements. The sight he provided his fully clothed wife was a testament to his weakness and was met with her characteristic scowl. Her feet were aggressively rubbing all over his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips and mouth. With a grunt, she shoved one stockinged foot deeply into his mouth, forcing it further and further in until he gagged and the powerful stink along with the clogged airway made his eyes water.

“Do a good job, asshole. Maybe I’ll have you fuck one of my shoes for dessert. Then you can have a shit before I put the plug back up your rear.”

The butt plug was huge and his wife only took it out several times a day. Usually for his toilet needs. His cock was like a big cobra protruding out from between his legs. She rarely let him ejaculate as she said it was disgusting. As a result, his big balls were fattened from the ponderous load of jism he carried around.

Later on, true to her word, Margaret Blanshtein forced her naked husband’s indecently swollen cock into the snug toe of her well-worn shoe. She knew from experience that the pointed toe area would pinch at his bloated cockhead and that he would be battling in his mind between the wickedly uncomfortable pinching and the hugely erotic act of being inside her shoe up to his balls. She held it firmly in one hand and delivered a stinging smack to his rear end to get him to move.

“Come on, shoefucker. Show me how much is in those hairy nuts of yours.”

On his knees he began to humiliate himself by pumping his hips and forcing his cock to fuck her shoe, as she had required. The friction was exquisite. The textures were mapped around his dickhead and the worn leather had a softness that soothed his hardened cockskin. The underside of his rampant penis was treated to the coveted sole where her silky stockings had deposited the heated foot perspiration of an entire day at the office. His balls, snug in the heel of her shoe were being pulled at each time he sought to withdraw. His cruel wife held the shoe, unmoving as she watched over his performance. Another smack was brought to his asscheek.

“Always whining about how much you need to make your awful, spermy messes. Fuck my shoe, Marvin. Fuck it until you stop your pathetic whining.”

The motion of his hips was speeding up. Despite the cruel buttplug his wife made him keep up his anus, he could feel it goading his prostate and contributing to the wonderfully erotic sensations he was feeling. He could still smell her stockings on face. He knew he would be terribly ashamed after his ordeal, but she had a way of using his fetish addiction to underscore his lowly place in her world. He began making the jackoff sounds that annoyed his wife so much and she began spanking his ass as he fucked her shoe.

“Squirt pervert. Empty that sac so we can get your shit over with and I can get to the evening news.”

He began to pump seething hot spurts of gooey semen into her shoe. His balls kept dumping it out of him as his vision went blurry. Her hand rested now, possessively on his bare behind and she squeezed his asscheek with each contraction it made to help him along. Inside the shoe, he could feel the hot cream surrounding his spurting cock and coating the sole. It had been so long since he had been allowed to cum, it seemed as if it was fountaining out of him and would never stop. Eventually, it did stop and his wife adjusted the shoe to bring it off his cock with a disgusting shlupping sound that made Marvin experience true shame for what he had just done. She regarding the inside of her shoe silently, twisting it this way and that so the rich puddle of white sperm flowed sluggishly back and forth. It made him feel like a child who had just been caught after wetting the bed. She looked at him with real and undisguised contempt.

“Well. I certainly hope you’re proud of yourself little man. You made a big slimy mess in my shoe and you sniffed my stockings so much your going to have their smell on your face for the next week. I’m certainly glad that your little spectacle is over with. Now I’ll get the potty and you can take your shit... shithead.”

Despite his acute shame, he couldn’t help but marvel at his wife’s big bottom moving back and forth under her snug skirt as she went to get his potty. That ass, he thought, was the instrument of his enslavement and had been the beginning of the end for him. If he was lucky tonight, he might find himself kneeling behind it and worshipping at the tiny brown hole… with his tongue. He absentmindedly brought his tongue to his lips to swallow down a stray piece of stocking lint he found there.

-To be continued