If any of you have read Jardonn's story, Little Helmut (you can listen to Uncle J.'s audio version, too), you know that there is a time when the Nazi says, "It's time for the torture of the tongues!" and as Laura and I stood in front of Frank, watching him struggle on his crucifixion cross, that is exactly what came into my head.
I don't remember how long Slater had maintained his erection, but Frank had been sporting one pretty much non-stop for more than 24 hours. Being crucified didn't change that. His hard dick pointed forward and down between legs spread wide, scrunched in the tight fabric of his little jock strap. I don't think he cared much for our tongue idea, as he flexed his arms and chest to lift his body a few inches, but we didn't ask him, and his struggle only made us want to hurt him more.
Laura started on his feet; I started on his forehead and face, climbing up the three-step ladder we'd used to strap his arms to the cross in the first place. She worked his right side and I worked his left, as she moved up and I moved down. In words it sounds like we moved quickly. In reality we took our time. Maybe I should use more words to describe exactly what we did...?!?!?
It's simple. We licked everything. We kissed everything. There are plenty of descriptions for Frank body parts in previous entries, so by now you should know what we were dealing with. We met in the middle, both of us awkwardly trying to lick his belly at the same time, and realized we'd had our fill. Besides, I thought I could hear wheezing sounds in Frank's lungs as he tried to breathe.
"Laura, I guess it's time to let his cock out of its prison."
“Damn, here goes five bucks down the drain.” I slipped one blade of the scissors between Frank’s inner thigh and the stretched strap of the jock strap. Snip and... boioioioing, Frank’s dick sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. It waved a couple of times before settling to point straight ahead, fucking nothing right in front of him.
“Bet it feels good to air that thing out, huh Frank?” He nodded his head, while I leaned down to sniff. “Smells pretty good. A mixture of chlorine and sweat... what a combo.”
Frank’s cock was conveniently located about stomach-level to us and I gently ran my index finger along the topside length of its shaft. Laura joined in by adding her finger underneath and we both tormented him, until an involuntary contraction caused his dick to spring up towards his belly, which ruined everything.
“Ok, Frank,” I teased, as we both removed our fingers. “If you want to finish, you’ll have to do it yourself. We’re afraid to touch that thing. It’s getting kind of violent.”
With my prodding, Laura followed me to her closet of goodies and I found what I’d seen earlier. “Is this one of those vibrators?”
“Yes, it runs on a battery.”
I held it up for inspection. “Three levels?”
“Yes, this is high.”
“Set it on low.” She did and flipped the switch. A deep hum said it was ready for use. Laura turned it off and we went back to Frank. She placed the one-inch-wide band around the base of his hard dick, adjusted it for a snug fit, then waited for me to turn it on.
“Hope this will do the trick for you, Frank. Good luck.”
That low-pitched buzzing sound was music to my ears and candy to my eyes, because Frank’s cock sprang straight up when I flipped on the switch. It did this four times before settling into a routine of sporadic, smaller contractions, occasionally interspersed with major ones that shot his dick up to nearly make contact with his belly.
I hate to say it, but putting that vibrator on Frank probably tortured him worse than if he wore nothing at all. On a sensitivity scale of one to ten, I’d say the base of a man’s shaft is about a four, which is ok if other cock parts are being worked on, too. But by itself it’s just a tease. Oh, sure, a man will eventually reach orgasm this way, but it is a long, slow process.
“There you go, Frank. You’re on your own. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
It sure was a delight to watch him squirm. He tried to thrust his hips forward to simulate a fuck, but being on the cross didn’t give him much leeway to do that. I figured we were going to be there awhile, so I went over to a poker table, got a couple of castor-footed chairs and rolled them over in front of our glorious man on the cross.
“Come on, Laura. Have a seat. This is going to be better than any movie you could dream up.”
“Want me to go make some popcorn?”
“Hey, that’s a great idea. Here, let me hit the pause button.” I turned off the vibrator. “Don’t want you to miss anything.”
“You bet. Thanks, angel.”
Next insertion Nov. 6
Frank’s cock weakened just a bit with the vibrator turned off, but that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy sitting comfortably in a modern chair while he struggled to breathe on an old-fashioned cross.
Laura descended the stairs carrying a tray that held my requested goodies and the show began. With a flip of the switch and resumption of the buzz, I launched Frank into Act 1, which he performed with a dramatic flair. His cock lifted towards his belly, hovered at an upward angle for a few seconds and then fell to level. It bounced a few times before stopping perfectly horizontal, a bead of pre-cum oozing from the slit. The sparkling gem grew larger until its weight sent it slowly dropping towards the floor, a thin strand of silk keeping it connected to his cock slit.
“Bravo, Frank.” I clapped my hands. “Is that all you can do, or is there more?”
There was. Another bead popped out and traveled down the same line still trailing from penis to carpet.
“Well done. Maybe if you lift your body you’ll be able to breath a little easier.”
He did. His arms strained against the straps and he forced himself up a few inches... which of course caused the muscles in his arms, legs, chest and belly to expand... which of course thrilled Laura and me no end.
“I guess you know that I can’t release you from the cross until you shoot your load. Think you can make it?”
A groan preceded the first words he had spoken for quite some time. “Do you think I can’t?”
“Oh, I know you can. It’s just a question of which action will come first – shooting your load or dying from asphyxiation.”
This is when Act 2 began. He repeatedly clinched his scrotum and waved his syrup-spitting cock up and down. He thrust his pelvis forward as far as he could to simulated a fuck and grunted like a caveman to make himself believe he was a dominant male.
Laura and I both applauded that one. Unfortunately, all Frank got out of it was more lubricating slime.
Act 3 was instigated by me and it really didn’t involve Frank, but I figured it would be good to have him in our sights.
“Come on, Laura. Let’s fuck.”
The view from underneath was dazzling. I was on the floor on my back with my face directly below the length of Frank’s cock. Every now and then his dribbles would land on my forehead or cheek. That Frank is such a jokester. Laura was riding on my dick near Frank’s left foot, which she would on occasion grab hold of and use for leverage.
He watched her and tried to move in unison. Every time she’d lower herself onto me for full penetration, Frank would thrust his hips forward best he could, as though he was fucking her with me. His dick would raise up and poke the air, but as you know air does not give a man’s cock much friction.
His only stimulation came from the vibrating strap around the base of his penis. And you better believe I got off long before he was even close. Watching him from down there, I could see his balls jiggle, his butt crack tighten and his cock wildly moving in all directions. I listened to the sounds he was making and Laura’s friction did the rest.
I shot my load... loads. After all, I myself hadn’t got off since our Friday-night (actually Saturday morning) multiples. My nuts had been hurting. Just imagine what Frank’s must have felt like. I don’t know when he’d last emptied his nuts. All I know is he had maintained an erection pretty much non-stop without shooting for as long as I’d been there, and that had now been about 30 hours. Ouch.
“Come on, Frank. Fire it up.”
I tried to motivate him into orgasm. Laura joined me as we put our hands to him, reaching up to rub his chest and belly... and I mean hard, too. We were pressing his back against that cross and heating his skin with wild, circular strokes.
The palms of my hands were hot. They dragged his body hairs along with them, nearly ripping them from his skin. I felt the tips of his nipples shrinking every time I scraped across their tops.
“All right, big man. You’ve suffered long enough. Show me your juice.”
We moved down to his legs and feet, applying the same pressurized hand-rubbing, while Frank flexed his arms and thrust his chest forward. He threw his head back, trying to imagine any fantasy that might trigger his nuts to let go. Frank was so fucking beautiful on that cross, expanding his chest, sucking in his belly, moaning and verbalizing self-motivational speeches... hell, I nearly started stroking my own dick to get myself off again, but thought better of it. Figured I better save myself for later.
Instead, I stood up and threw a 75% serious punch into his belly, reached below with my left hand to grab hold and twist the skin on his nuts, and with flattened fingers of my right hand, slapped his cock from underneath. The momentum caused that rock-hard thing to slam against his belly and come back down to where my hand waited to slap him again. His cock got double-sided slaps – my hand on the underside; his belly on the topside, until the fifth attack gave us what we all wanted...
Now men, you probably know, and ladies, if you don’t know I’m about to tell you. Few things in this world leave a man feeling more frustrated than an unattended orgasm. Oh sure, I made Frank shoot, but I didn’t help once his contractions began. Never touched his dick again.
It’s like when you’re in one of those lines at the post office that says, “WAIT HERE FOR NEXT AVAILABLE WINDOW,” and you’re next and a customer finishes and leaves a window, so you take two steps towards that window, but then the clerk turns her back to you in order to do something, so you stop where you are and you’re in limbo, until you decide to go back to your waiting spot, but just then the clerk seems finished with her busy work and turns to again face you, so you move forward, but she turns around again, so you stop again, then she faces you again and stares and says, “NEXT,” like it’s the first time she’s noticed that you’re standing in no man’s land and you feel like an idiot and she looks at you like you’re an idiot and treats you like you’re an idiot and you just want to go to another post office and start all over again to get it right, but you’re already there exposed, so you finish what you came to do feeling miserable during the entire transaction. Ever done that?
Frank’s nuts released his load and his dick started to participate but couldn’t feel anything rubbing its corona, so it only halfway contracted. It was just enough to send the stream to his slit, but the little spermatozoa weren’t sure they were in the right place at the right time. They came on out, and there were plenty of them, but they came out in a dribble because his dick wasn’t urging them on. The end result is that Frank was not a happy man.
It was a dual frustration for him, because not only did he lose all that precious cum he had built up, but when it was over he felt as though nothing had happened whatsoever. I thought he was going to cry when Laura covered all his man juice with a towel to remove it from her carpet. Such a waste.
Imagine waiting for over 30 hours to shoot your load and having an orgasm like that. What we did to him almost made MY nuts ache, but it was necessary. We needed a tool for the weekend, and that was going to be Frank’s cock whether he liked it or not.
On this day in history, November 10 in the year 19??, my Uncle Jasper was born. And to celebrate, I would like to announce that I am a sadist. I didn’t know it until I met the Johnsons, and it is possible that it’s only true when it comes to Frank, but it is true.
My original intent was to take him down from the cross after he had dribbled his load, let him recuperate a bit, and then we’d all go to bed and give him some hero worship until we fell asleep. But that was before I saw and heard how he reacted to his unsatisfactory orgasm.
Frank really was on the verge of tears, that was no exaggeration. The groaning and grunting I’d heard all night continued, but all of a sudden the pitch and tone were different. It was no longer a masculine sound of resistance, but a whimpering sound of near breakdown... almost like the sounds a man makes at a funeral when he’s doing everything is his power to suppress his grief.
Thing is, when I saw and heard that, a rush went through my body like I’d never felt before. Maybe it was a dose of megalomania. This big, strong, always-in-control, manly masterpiece was about to lose it and there was no fucking way I was going to let up on him now. This power trip made me want to literally rip his emotions to shreds.
First, I had to make sure he was in no physical danger, so I unstrapped his ankles and made him stand on the feet-impaling mat again to support his weight. His breathing returned to normal, so I ran upstairs to get his urine jug, came back, removed his vibrator strap and told him to piss. He had no problem doing that for me.
I asked Laura if she had one of those torture movies, and while she figured out which one she wanted to show, I dumped Frank’s jug in the toilet and brought him back a glass of water to drink.
She found a film called “Kings of the Sun” and I gotta tell ya, it is the closest I’ve ever seen to Hollywood getting something right. Ever seen it? It’s got Yul Brynner and has to do with tribal warfare in South America... Mayans versus Toltecs. Historically, it’s bullshit, but there is a scene in which Yul Brynner is bound with nothing but a very skimpy loin cloth on his body. He is stretched very tightly, spread eagle and his back is elevated by something underneath. In other words, his chest is way up in the air and his belly is flat as a pancake. The director gives us plenty of side views, both from above and nearly level with Yul’s body and it is very well done. This director knew how to showcase a man’s physique. Hell, enough of the platitudes... this scene is fucking hot!
We watched the entire film, Laura and I, on the couch. Frank watched, too, wrists strapped to his cross while standing on his rubber spikes. Nearly two hours viewing time gave me plenty of ideas for what to do with Frank.
Next insertion November 13
By the time our film was over, Laura and I were horny again. As for Frank, I don’t think he ever stopped being horny. That orgasm he had didn’t change a thing.
I asked Laura if it was late enough to swim... naked.
“11:30... I’d say so.”
We unstrapped his arms from the cross and led him to the pool, Laura grabbing hold of his dick to use as a leash (my idea).
“Let’s get him wet so he’ll look sweaty, just like Yul.” That’s what I wanted to reproduce.
We shoved him into the deep end and swam with him for awhile, then Laura took his cock in hand to coax him out from the shallow end. I took two seat cushions from their lounge chairs and stacked them near pool’s edge, and then we made Frank lay across the top of them. She stretched out his legs and I did his arms.
“There you are, Frank. In the sweat house.” I refreshed his memory about the movie scene. “We’ll be nice and not tie you this time, because we know you’ll pose for us just like Yul Brynner did.
Laura and I got into the pool so we could have a side view. The water just barely covered our tits where we stood and Frank was about four feet away, stretched like a letter X with those cushions beneath the center of his back.
“Look at that, Laura. See how his sweat glistens in the moonlight?”
“Gorgeous... And look at that chest.”
“Yep. Sticking way up in the air.” My eyes inspected him from head to toe. “How about his belly? Don’t you love the way he exaggerates when he exhales? Makes it look like he’s really suffering.”
Frank was a damn good actor. He pretended to struggle against imaginary restraints, puffing up his chest and sucking in his belly. He’d lift his head and glare at us with his lower jaw extended, posing like a masculine hero.
He was such a good actor that Laura and I started making love. My penis was more than ready to go inside and her vagina was very ready to take me in. We stood with our bodies locked together, my pole poking her hole, our heads turned towards Frank and our cheeks pressed to one another.
Very few strokes were required. Laura started her high-pitched moans, suppressing them best she could so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. I tried to hold myself together so she could get off first, but Frank started moaning, too... low-pitched and man-like.
I couldn’t wait, but it was ok, because Laura’s inside contortions and poorly-suppressed cries signaled her orgasm had come, too. Our eyes stayed on Frank during the comedown and I was just about to let my cock slip out when we were interrupted.
“Frank? Laura? Are you back here?”
“Oh, shit!” Laura pulled away from me. “It’s the McKenzies.”
“Who the hell are the McKenzies?” I whispered.
“They’re a couple we used to swing with.” Laura gingerly moved towards pool’s edge, trying not to splash or make waves. “Frank, what should we do?”
He whispered to her. “I am helpless. You and your unholy tortures. What do you want from me?”
You know, as if I didn’t already love him enough, that clever man nearly made me crack up with that one... staying in character as a way to tease his wife. Too bad I had to stay quiet, but Frank knew I enjoyed him. He was smiling at me like a mischievous prankster should.
“Damn it, Frank... Federal Dollars,” Laura safe-worded him. “Now, what should we do?”
“Fuck it. Don’t answer them. They’ll go away, eventually.”
Frank never moved. His big old cock laid on his belly and he kept himself stretched over those cushions. That beautiful son of a bitch. I just had to tell him.
“Hey Frank, I think you’ll be getting a little body worship... if these people ever get out of here.”
Laura followed his suggestion and moved towards me.
“So, these McKenzies,” I casually queried. “Are they into kink?”
“No, just four-ways.”
“Hmm... don’t tell me... let me guess. Since I’ve been coming over you’ve been ignoring them. Right?”
“Yes, damn it. They’ve been leaving phone messages. I guess I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“Oh, you won’t need to... there’s a woman looking at us right now. Is that her?”
Laura spun around to confirm it. Mr. McKenzie had hoisted his wife onto his shoulders so she could peek over the top of their security fence.
“Why, Frank,” said Ms. McKenzie. “I’ve never seen you looking so handsome.”
“Skinny dipping, are we?” Already, this woman’s voice was irritating me. She got down off her husband’s shoulders, and then he shouted through the fence.
“Hey, Frank, Laura... mind if we join you?”
The best part to all of this was that Frank didn’t do a damn thing. He laid right there naked and all stretched out like nothing was going on, which of course did not please his wife.
“God damn it, Frank. Tell me what to do.”
“Well, shit, Laura. You’ve got to let them in. They’ve seen us naked before, so what the hell are you worried about?”
“Uh, a little thing called Jack. What do you want him to do?”
“Hey, Frank... want me to suck your dick so your pals can watch?”
Ain’t we men awful? Ganging up on Laura to make her more angry than she already was? Hell, bonding with Frank made me wanna suck on him for real.
“Sure, Jack. Might be a good way to get rid of them.”
I was about to do it until Laura stopped me. “All right, you clowns. Thanks for nothing. Get ready for the McKenzies.”
She got out of the water and let them in.
“Hey, you guys, long time, no see.” Mr. McKenzie wasted not time in peeling off his clothes and his wife followed suit, even though I never heard anybody say they could join us. Oh, well. They both were in the water with Laura and me in about 30 seconds.
“Jack, this is Richard and Margaret McKenzie... This is Jack McCutcheon.”
“Call me Dick,” he said. “Call me Maggie,” she said.
“Hi, Dick and Maggie. Call me Jack. There sure are a lot of Mc’s around here. Scotch or Irish?”
“So, uh, Frank, can’t you get it up for Laura anymore?” Dick asked to Frank who still hadn’t moved. Hmm... guess Dick didn’t find my opening question very interesting... dick.
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, it’s up right now.”
“Hey, it sure is.” Maggie apparently had a better memory than her husband. “You look uncomfortable, Frank. Why are you laying like that... trying to get a moon tan?”
“No, I’m waiting to get my dick sucked. Interested?”
I got the feeling that perhaps Frank hadn’t been so flippant about it with these people before, because what I thought was a very mature request was greeted with silence by them, almost like he had insulted poor Maggie. As for Laura, you will notice she was saying nothing, but I could see the steam rising from her ears.
Me? I’d just about had enough, and I’m proud to say that my Uncle Jasper came out of me. These people hadn’t earned my politeness or refinement, so I wasn’t going to give them any. Like Uncle J. says... ‘New people get my courtesy for about one minute, and if I don’t get any back, FUCK ‘EM!’ Since no one else seemed interested, I decided to find out how friendly these friends were gonna be.
“Well, shit, Frank.” I water-walked to pool’s edge right next to him. “If there ain’t any women around here that appreciate that pretty cock of yours...” I exited the pool. “...I’ll see what I can do.”