Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Reinsertion of Jack's Insertions - October Back Half

Taken from site Jardonn's Erotic Tales

Oct. 17
Have you noticed that, even though our role-play scenes always began with dialogue from another source, the storyline would usually be abandoned? The Johnsons and I were in the early stages of discovery, and what I had learned so far was that the sight of a helpless Frank allowed me to enjoy his wife.
On his face was a look of concern and of doubt, which is only natural when a husband knows his wife is fucking another man. As for his dick, it was an opposite reaction. Frank’s cock was fully charged each time he had witnessed our fornication, and whether he was excited by the sight of me getting my jollies, or of Laura getting hers, or the overall effect of him having no control over any of it, the bottom line was this: as long as Frank’s face said one thing, while his dick said another, I was stimulated to unbelievable heights, which made me feel like the man I needed to be in order to entertain myself and Laura.
With hands cuffed behind his back, Frank was led up the stairs and to the bathroom. I held his dick and we hand-massaged his chest, back and belly. We both planted kisses onto his face and lips, while Frank pissed into the toilet.
The under-the-mattress straps were set up, and after Laura unlocked his handcuffs, I guided Frank to lie down on one side of their bed. He was bound stretch rack style, with arms beyond his head and feet spread about two feet apart, strapped ankles resting at the edge of the mattress.
We left him there and went to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a dishpan filled with warm, clean water, two wash cloths, two towels and a bar of soap. I washed Frank’s feet, while Laura washed his dick and sticky-with-pre-cum belly. She saved his nuts for me to clean.
With the bedside table lamp as our only light, Laura and I laid beside Frank and made love. Orgasm count so far? Laura - 2; Jack - 2; Frank - 0.
Oct. 18
Ah! The joys of a king size bed. Laura and I had plenty of room to roll on top of each other or lay side by side, fondling, kissing and licking one another’s naked bodies, while Frank lay bound and mildly stretched, flat on his back and with peter fully erect. He strained his neck to watch us, and with an equal dose of sympathy and malice, I provided a pillow for his head, so he could get a better view.
Neither of us touched him, but we both kept our eyes on him and each other. Our lustful wrestling eventually found me laying on my chest between Laura’s spread open legs, my mouth ravishing her pulsating pussy. In my sights were the lower half of her breasts, the full length of her belly. To my left was Frank, his expanded chest, his sloping-downward belly with that hard, syrup-dribbling cock again bouncing and dancing above it. With a brief respite from my munching on Laura’s clitoris, I said to her, “Tell your husband how you feel, Laura. Am I working for you?”
“Oh, god, Frank,” she moaned. “You have brought to me a most precious gift. Jack is what you were... 20 years ago. Watch him, honey. Lay there and suffer, while this beautiful young man pleases me the way you once did.”
Such a clever woman is that Laura Johnson. As she drove her point home with those taunting words, I drove my tongue home onto her engorged clitoris. I munched incessantly, while she teased verbally.
“Frank, darling, if you could only know what he does to me. Jack is an artist... oh, god, he’s an amazing artist.” Her body began to undulate. “Why have you done this to me, Frank?” The pitch of her voice steadily climbed. “I don’t know what to do.” She arched her back. “I’m falling in love with him.” Her breasts were thrust into the air. “But I’m married to you.” She began to orgasm, tormenting Frank with words interjected between shrieks. “I’m stuck with you... uh, oh... but I need him... ah, Jesus... oh, my god... Jack... uh... Jaaaaaaaaack!”
It was strange how Frank had become silent. He had not uttered one word since his torture beneath the frame in their basement. What he might be thinking mystified me, because although the look on his face showed a trace of fear – a seed of doubt as to whether or not his wife meant what she had said, at the same time his cock remained fully erect and dripping. Was he acting? Or did he think that Laura and I could truly love each other without loving him?
Whatever thoughts were buzzing in his head did not matter to me, as long as those thoughts stimulated him to maintain his erection. And so, Laura and I reversed positions. Now it was my turn to receive her oral praise, while Frank strained against his straps, pretending or wishing for real that he could join us.
Oct. 19
Laura and I teamed up to verbally taunt our prisoner. Of course, Laura’s words were said in between the time she spent licking and sucking my dick. I chose to lay the same direction as Frank, on my back with hands tucked between the pillow and my head. His head was even with my chest and he was forced to strain his neck to see my eyes, but he did strain to look at me when I deflated him.
“Damn, Frank, your wife is good. Too bad you never put out much effort on my behalf. You might have learned the proper way to suck my cock, but it’s too late now.”
Laura spit me out and added, “Yes, Frank, look at this beautiful thing.” She held my dick vertical and erect so he could see it. “It’s custom made for sucking on. Just the right length and not too fat. Unlike your monstrosity. That damn thing nearly chokes me, not to mention bruising my insides.”
She went back to work as I took over. “I am one lucky fella. Your wife is hot. I’m kinda beginning to wonder what the hell you’re even doing here. I mean, really, what do we need you for?”
Laura chimed in, “He brings home the money, Jack. It’s the only reason I keep him around.”
“Yeah, I guess he is good at that. A good provider, plus he is a good man. Doesn’t argue with us. Just lays there and looks pretty. Come on, Frank. Wouldn’t you love to suck my dick? Or maybe you’d like to plow that behemoth cock of yours into your wife’s ass. Would that turn you on? Look at that freak show you call a penis, damn syrup oozing all over the place. Come on, don’t be a wuss. Try to break free.”
Frank performed for me, as did his wife. He sucked in his belly and raised his chest, tugging at the straps, flexing his arms and legs. Laura picked up the pace of her oral strokes, steadily squeezing my dick tighter and tighter between her tongue and the roof of her mouth.
“Man oh man, Frank. Your wife is un-fucking-believable. God damn, she’s good.”
He started to moan. He arched his back. He displayed himself for me. Frank is my beautiful, manly, tortured hero. It was beyond tempting to reach over and touch his powerful chest, or his hard belly, or his shadow-bearded face, but I did not. If I had, my hand would have disobeyed the wishes of my brain and headed straight for his glorious cock. Another person’s hand is no way for a man like Frank to get off. He deserves better, even if it means he has to wait until we’re damned good and ready to finish him.
“Oh, Jesus H. Christ, Frank. I’m going to cum. I’m going to fill your wife’s belly with my load. You had your chance, but not now. There’s no fucking way you could match this. Come on, flex those big muscles of yours. That’s all you can do. That’s what you’re good for.”
I watched him struggle from a distance, remembering the feel of his masculine beauty beneath my hand, beneath my tongue and lips. I used my memory of the overwhelming domination he unleashes upon a cock sucker like me when his powerful penis is in my mouth, and I flooded Laura’s mouth.
Oct. 20
Pretty good for a 40-something-year-old woman, huh? Three orgasms in one night? Laura and I were spent. We made preparations to use the bed for sleeping. She went to the bathroom off of their bedroom, while I went to the one near the guest bedroom that this guest never used, except for storage of my belongings. When I returned, Laura was flossing her husband’s teeth. Next, she brought a cup of mouthwash to his lips, let him slosh it around and spit it into the same cup.
“Sorry, darling, you’ll have to go without brushing tonight. Maybe in the morning. Now, if you need to pee, just tell one of us and we’ll bring you your bottle.”
I did not argue with Laura’s decision that Frank would be sleeping just as he was, stretched out on his back on the left side of the mattress, where below an empty plastic urine bottle lay on the floor.
We used no covers. Laura turned out the lamp and we spooned, she in front of me and our backsides turned towards Frank, who was several inches away. My dick felt comfortably warm nestled against her soft butt cheeks. My right arm was wrapped across her rib cage and tucked beneath her arm. My hand gently rested upon her breast. I kissed her neck and whispered a “good night,” then inhaled the scent of her hair and skin. Sleep came quickly to us.
Sometime in the dull glow of early morning I awoke and again whispered to her. “Laura, I need to taste Frank.”
There was no response. I tried to slip my arm from underneath hers and that’s when she awoke.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get my mouth on your husband.”
“Do you want to get him off now?”
“Hell no, just a little teasing for my benefit.”
“I’ll join you.”
Frank’s Saturday morning began with four lips and two tongues on his two nipples, at which time he spoke. “I need to piss.”
It had been nearly 10 hours since Frank had said anything and I was more than happy to watch him pee into the bottle. I did the dumping of his urine into the toilet, added my own to go with it, washed my hands and returned to join Laura. She was laying on the bed with his left nipple in her mouth. I stood beside him and did the same to his right tit. A long, drawn-out marathon of torment had begun, as Frank’s dick ballooned to full strength yet again.
Next insertion Oct. 23
Oct. 23
Our first major assault on Frank’s tits was well underway. Both Laura and I kept our hands out of the action, using only our mouths, tongues and light touches of teeth. There was sucking; there was licking; there was kissing and there was no interruption.
The first responder was his cock (naturally), but that had already sprung to life as soon as he had relieved his bladder. Our isolated attack on his tits caused his dick to bounce and sway... and dribble pre-cum. Then, other things started happening.
Frank’s body began to undulate and deep-throated groans came with each exhale of his breath. His eyes were closed, as he arched his back, thrusting his tits deeper into our mouths. After a few seconds of this, he would relax for awhile before raising his chest again.
At this point, we had been working on him for about 15 minutes and my stomach was starting to growl, so I took my mouth from him and spoke to Laura. “Let’s plan on fixing breakfast at the top of the hour. I’m starving. And besides, his tits ought to be sore enough by then.”
The top of the hour was about 25 minutes away.
Oct. 24
That 25 minutes saw some interesting changes in Frank. His undulations were replaced by contortions, as our mouths targeted his isolated nipples while leaving the rest of his body untouched. Frank’s involuntary responses made it appear as though he was electrified.
His legs would shake, toes curl, arms twitch. His scrotum would clinch and hold, muscling his cock to lift off of his belly and stand in mid-air, pointing to the left tit where Laura was working him over. After a few seconds of this uncontrolled twitching, Frank’s body would collapse and rest, but it could not last. Our non-stop assault would again cause him to convulse into a back-arching, chest-expanding, belly-tightening, torso-shaking pose of electrified ecstasy, accompanied by pitiful and breathy moans of suffering. Long, dramatically-pitched expressions of “Ah” and “Oh” were interjected with short, painful grunts of “Uh” and “Huh-huh”.
And about three minutes before our breakfast time, Frank finally begged for us to get him off. He had held out for such an heroically long time, but he could take no more. “Oh, god, I can’t take it,” he groaned. “Please... please... god, you’ve got to finish me.”
That satisfied me. I removed my mouth from his nipple and told Laura it was time to eat. We left the room and headed for the kitchen, leaving Frank to suffer unattended.
Oct. 25
I helped Laura prepare everything she wanted us to eat, then we brought it into the bedroom and sat on the mattress where Frank could smell and see it all. We ate, while he watched. He seemed to have calmed down a bit. At least he had stopped pestering us about wanting to get off.
Laura mentioned that if I planned to swim, the pool would need its daily maintenance, which was Frank’s job. I figured he could either follow me around while handcuffed and tell me what to do, or he could do it himself while I made sure he didn’t touch his dick.
“Tell you what, Laura. After I get cleaned up I’m going to run a few errands. You can feed him and then when I get back we’ll go from there.”
I don’t know if they stayed in character while I was gone, but Frank was still stretched and strapped just as I had left him when I returned. Laura was in the kitchen cleaning up the breakfast mess.
“Did he eat?”
“Ok. Is he a morning shitter?”
“Yes. He’s overdue”
“Do you want to take him to the bathroom, or should I?”
She stood with hands on hips and a smirk on her face, in essence telling me that since I was the one who insisted he be helpless, I was the one who should supervise his shitting.
I had no problem with this. The only question I had to ask myself was should I wipe his ass or should I not.
I released his wrists and told him to sit up. After handcuffing his wrists behind his back, I unstrapped his ankles and led him to the toilet, hoping he could go with me in the room. He could and did with no effort. I flushed, made him stand up and head directly for the shower. After stripping, I joined him and turned on the water.
Oct. 26
With his back to the shower stream, Frank’s butt cheeks were spread open by me. Fortunately, his turd had been the cooperative kind, a clean break, so very little brown water went down the drain. I soaped his skin and of course his cock was hard as could be, but I maintained a professional attitude while lathering first him and then myself down.
I toweled myself first, then him.
“Laura,” I shouted. “Come in here.”
She did and together we took him to the sink, where she brushed his teeth and I put an electric razor to his beard. It was a lousy job, but good enough for him. With a splash of aftershave, Frank was ready to get dressed. We led him to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed, while Laura got him a pair of swim trunks and I presented the first item retrieved during my morning errand – a jock strap. Size? Small.
It was a perfect fit. His cock was bent and doubled backwards. Even then, the fabric only covered about two-thirds of his meat and the waist band was stretched to capacity. The base and pubes were beautifully exposed, while his dick was torturously tucked and confined. Laura put on his trunks, which had a mesh jock strap of its own, I put on my trunks, then Frank and I went to the pool, where I uncuffed him and ordered him to do his cleaning duties.
Everything was finished by high noon and the remaining daylight hours were mostly spent in or around the swimming pool. Frank seemed to enjoy his freedom of movement and I certainly was glad when he got in the water, because we had forgotten to put deodorant on his arm pits.
We enjoyed basking in the sun, cooling off in the water and basking some more. Having Frank and Laura apply layers of protective lotion to my skin wasn’t too bad either.
It was daylight, so everything was recreational with genitals covered, damn it. We did, however, when in the water, get our hands onto Frank’s crotch, just to see if his scrunched up cock was still trying to maintain a state of erection. It was. The poor thing had been denied orgasm for so long that I don’t think any thoughts he conjured up could make his dick calm down, no matter how disgusting.
Laura and I made sure we frequently embraced and kissed like lovers, while ignoring Frank as though he wasn’t there. It is indescribable how horny this made me. It’s also unexplainable, but like I said, Frank is born to suffer. And whether it’s physical or mental, his reactions drive me and Laura nuts... insane with LUST, I tells ya.
Oh, yeah, Laura and I pissed in the toilet. We let Frank go whenever the hell he wanted to. Neither one of us could be bothered to go through the hassle of escorting him to the bathroom.
Oct. 27
Dinner found us feeding Frank by hand, because after coming inside from the pool it was necessary to cuff his wrists behind his back. This way he would not be tempted to take liberties with his hard pecker, which was now free of his swim trunks but not of his little jock strap. You should have seen the way his tucked backwards cock forced his nuts to expand when he sat down at his kitchen table chair. I suspect the pressure applied on those gonads brought a bit of nausea to his stomach, but not enough to prevent him from devouring every fork full of food we directed his way. Sometimes Laura and I would get caught up in the enjoyment of the food on our own plates and forget (or pretend to forget) to offer him a bite from his, but with an occasional nudging on our legs by one of his feet, we’d stuff his mouth to keep him occupied.
Isn’t it amazing how obedient Frank had become? He never pestered us with protests or pathetic begging. He simply accepted whatever we forced upon him, never complaining verbally or struggling physically. Such a good man he was to us – and the eye candy... my, my!
Laura and I decided to watch a movie after dinner. But what to do with Frank? We crucified him... sort of. The wooden X built onto the side of that frame in their basement turned out to be the perfect babysitter. We strapped his wrists to the upper portion, but left his feet free, and the height allowed his feet to touch the floor. It was my idea to put a rubber mat under them. It was one I had seen in their garage... the kind made for removing mud from shoes, with hard rubber spikes about two inches in height. Frank could let the weight of his body rest on his feet and feel those spikes, or he could strain his arms and lift himself up if he needed a break from that discomfort... at least until his muscles gave out and he was forced to lower himself again.
He was a very handsome man in this pose, especially with the jock strap concealing two-thirds of his constantly throbbing penis in a tempting sort of way. When he was standing, Frank’s cock would point straight down between his legs, stretching that fabric as far as it could go. And with his pubes exposed, Laura and I did some grooming.
“Look, darling,” I pointed out to her. “That one there is turning white at the end. It doesn’t belong.” And with that, I plucked it.
“You know, Jack,” Laura joined in. “That one there doesn’t have the nice curls to it like the others. He doesn’t need that one either.” Yoink... another pube was removed.
After all of Frank’s unruly pubic hairs – about a dozen – were plucked from him and only the handsome ones remained, we headed for the couch to watch our movie. He could see it, too, from behind us and to our right, but Laura and I had a difficult time getting in to whatever it was... hmm... I think it was the 40 Year Old Virgin. It doesn’t matter, because after about 30 minutes, Laura and I started fondling and kissing each other right there on the plush leather couch. By the time that film was over, we were on the floor in front of Frank’s feet, intensifying our mutual admiration so he could watch us instead of the blue aftermath on their big screen.
We’d just make our own movie... called the 40 Year Old He-man With a Raging Hard-on.
Next insertion Oct. 30
Oct. 30
“Frank, I am so glad you allow me to partake of your wife – not that you have a choice.”
We were directly in front of his feet, Laura on her back with me laying beside her, resting on my elbow. My right hand was massaging her belly and breasts... and occasionally gliding over her vagina.
“Hey,” I told him. “Lift up your feet so we can see.”
He did, and underneath was one row after another of perforations, tiny holes made from the rubber mat.
“Look at that, Laura. I bet that would feel good rubbing on you.”
She agreed, so I told Frank to lift his legs higher, a feat which his strong belly muscles had no trouble performing. As he did, I helped Laura shift her body onto the mat and throw her arms beyond her head.
“Go ahead, Frank. Show your wife how much you love her, even though you can’t have her.”
He got his right foot onto her breasts, slowly rubbing the perforated sole back and forth across her nipples. He did the same thing with his left foot on her belly.
“Be gentle... not too much pressure.”
Of course, this forced him to use those belly muscles in order to keep his legs elevated and feet working on his wife. As for me, I inserted my fingers to her vagina and found the hot spot, which allowed me to stimulate her while watching him.
That beautiful son of a bitch. You know what a strong man’s belly looks like when he’s doing leg lifts? Well, Frank was holding his leg-lift steady and those muscles were burning... gloriously expanded. There was a deep ridge from the pit of his stomach straight down to the belly button and beyond, disappearing beneath his well-groomed pubic hair. And that navel... holy shit... what was normally an innie was now a quasi-outie, as his abdominals forced the knot to pooch outward until revealed. On either side of that ridge were thick ripples of powerful meat - rolls of the stuff, handsomely painted with dark belly hair.
I couldn’t take it. I had to touch that beautiful thing. Three of my right-hand fingers were inside Laura’s pussy and when I removed them they were slick with juice. I sprang to my feet and stood to Frank’s right. My flattened left hand secured the small of his back, while my clawed right hand dug into his belly, encircling his navel.
“Your wife is about to blow, Frank. But you’ve got to keep working on her.” I dug my fingers in deeper. “Think you can hold out? I’ve smeared her pussy juice on your belly. That ought to give you strength. After all, she deserves your best.” I ground my fingertips into his solid wall of belly muscle with all my strength. “How about it, big man? Can you make it?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he gasped. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“That’s a good boy.” I removed my belly claw, formed a fist and gave him a half-assed punch directed at his navel. Then, I leaned down and buried my face into his flexed muscles, tickled the knot of his belly button with my tongue.
He did make it. I returned to lay beside Laura and resumed fingering her clitoris, while Frank burned those belly muscles to foot-massage her breasts, stomach and belly. Her shrieks and howls of orgasm were satisfying for all of us, and I made Frank maintain his leg-lifting foot massage until she had completed her come-down.
I helped Laura roll away from underneath his feet and enjoyed seeing tiny, rubber-mat-made holes aligned up and down her back. As for Frank, I told him to keep his belly muscles flexed, as I took his right leg and directed it towards the lower beam of the X cross, where a leather strap was waiting. It took all my strength to defeat his resistance, but my left hand pressing his knee cap and right hand pulling his ankle did the trick. Once his leg was aligned with the board, I brought the open-ended strap tightly across his ankle, threaded it through the slit in the board and clamped it with the lever built into the side of the board.
Frank's construction was flawlessly effective and easy to use. I admired his handiwork, as I repeated the process on his left leg. Only then did I say...
“Ok, Frank. We’re done with your feet.”
With a mighty groan, he exhaled and relaxed all muscles. Frank rapidly sucked in and blew out air to send fresh oxygen to those muscles and the sight of this was even more exciting than when he was doing his leg-lift. That’s because Frank Johnson was fully suspended, crucified on the very cross he himself had built.
This is the final insertion for October. Next entry will be Wednesday, Nov. 1 

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