I guess you could say that Dick’s fascination with his rectum kind of put a damper on things. I never shot my load into that condom... just kept fucking him until I heard Frank and Maggie make their orgasmic music. I pulled out and best I can remember, nobody bothered to get Dick off. Laura looked bored hanging by her wrists... beautiful, but bored.
Maggie was the only one that looked satisfied. After all, she had felt Frank’s heavenly penis inside her three times in less than 24 hours and I think she got her fix. She looked up at him, and as soon as he withdrew his fading peter from her overdosed vagina, she acknowledged her gratitude and made an announcement.
“Well, Frank, Laura... Jack. This has been a blast. My husband looks worn out. I know I am, so I think we will leave it with you.”
Actually, her husband looked heartbroken and dejected, but none of us were going to argue with her. Laura and myself and Frank were ready for each other, and Frank helped to move things along.
“Yeah. I think everybody’s bushed. Let me get Dick out of those stocks. Jack, you and Maggie get Laura down.”
And that was the end of our games. After the McKenzies cleared out, Frank, Laura and I spent the rest of Sunday and Monday wallowing in their bed... no more swimming... no more basement... no more under-mattress straps.
We slept together, showered together, piddled in the kitchen to bring chow back onto the bed, where we ate together. We talked and we made love... two-on-one sessions of body worship.
It was confirmed to me that Maggie had used that dildo before on her husband in their presence.
“That was kind of what you’d call the beginning of the end,” Laura explained. “Frank and I watched it for awhile, but it did nothing for us.
“Yeah, I started making love to Laura, so we wouldn’t have to watch any more of it.” Frank reached over and rubbed my belly. “That was the weekend before I busted in on you and Jasper, when I interrupted your broadcast.”
“We only got together with them once more after that, until now.” Laura was on the other side of me. They had me sandwiched with me on my back, they on their sides rubbing me with their hands. Before long, they were up on their knees hovering over me, using their hands and their mouths – both to talk and to kiss, lick and nibble.
I didn’t want to know how they’d met the McKenzies. I didn’t want to know anymore about the McKenzies, but I did finally get around to asking about Laura’s comment.
“Hey, you guys made me feel pretty good when they first crashed our pool party... when you let them know you were on my side.”
“I’m sure our snubbing them hurt their feelings,” Laura said. “But there was no excuse for calling anybody names... especially since we’d already seen Dick’s dildo trick. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to accuse you of anything, Jack.”
"Well, me? I could understand that,” I conceded. “After all, I was sucking Frank’s cock. But calling Frank queer took a lot of guts.”
“All right, you two.” Frank’s patience had ended. “Let’s drop it. I’m sick of the McKenzies. We’ve got what we need and he’s right here.”
We did shut up, as I received a heavy dose of praise, climaxed by Laura riding my cock while Frank fed me his. I guess they do love me, just like Laura said. I know I love them. Our three-day, Labor Day weekend festival only solidified what had already started. If I’m turning your stomach with all this mush, too bad. Mr. and Ms. Johnson have made me a very happy man, and the bottom line is that its all about Frank. It doesn’t matter if he’s the top dog, barking orders and running the show, or if he’s the tortured slave, pretending to suffer while defying us like a he-man. Frank is always THE MAN, and without him I wouldn’t be there.
I’m going to limit my insertions during December to, say... three times a week. Everybody’s busy – you, me, and the Johnsons, but maybe I can give you some stimulation to get you through this hectic month. There’s plenty that has happened since that weekend and our relationship is ongoing, so I’ll save the highlights – the events I remember most – for sporadic insertions.
And yes, the McKenzies have joined us a few times, but the emphasis has been on the missus, while the mister has been considerably downgraded. It’s the only way Frank and I will accept him into our family. You’ll see. I keep no secrets.
We’ll start Tuesday, Dec. 5.
There were two nights in late September when Frank came over to my place. He was there to help us record Balance Beam, and even though the story gave us erections, Jasper and Jardonn were there, too, so we couldn't do much about it. Frank played the tortured hero; I played the antagonist; Jardonn played my assistant and Jasper was the narrator. How's that for a stretch?
For the most part, we were pleased with the results and I think Frank did the best job, although I liked him better in Germanicus Divine. In that one his was the only voice... and as you can guess I love his voice. Besides, anything from ancient Rome turns me on and visions of Frank on a stretch rack drive me crazy. And since I'm off subject, I might as well tell you that the text version of Germanicus Divine is the first story in Jardonn's paperback, I'll Never Tell. This is a shameless promotion, I know, but this is his web site and without him there would be no Jasper broadcasts and no Jack's Insertions. Why shouldn't I promote his book? We are all proud of it, and the second one about the Bishop is even better, in my opinion. It's a full-length story of dungeon torture. If all this McCutcheon/Smith family flag-waving offends you, I'm sorry... NOT.
Frank wanted me to be there for Laura's first listening session of Balance Beam, and so on a Saturday evening I visited and she fired up her computer. I clicked on the MP3's and we sat back to enjoy, just like we were listening to old time radio, except we were naked. Hmm... do you suppose people used to get naked, listen to Jack Benny and jack off? There was quite of bit of sexual innuendo to some of those broadcasts... his and many others... if you listen closely.
Laura liked what she heard. I could tell because she was juicy, and of course it was plain to see that Frank and I were proud of ourselves.
"So, dear wife, shall we try to re-create this little tale?"
"Ooh, Frankie, that would be a delightful treat."
Now, I'm sure that Laura was thinking like I was. We figured on using pillows or perhaps some sort of flat bench to substitute for the beam, so imagine our surprise when Frank took us to the basement and told us to wait there. He went into the garage and brought back his secret project. He had constructed a wooden frame very similar to an actual balance beam, but much shorter in length.
I, for one, thought he had lost his mind. "Frank, are you nuts? You'll break your friggin' back on that thing."
Laura agreed. "Honey, I think it's a bit much. Can't we just do something simpler?"
"Come on, Frank. Jardonn's story is just a fantasy. How long do you think you could take that for real? You know my cousin's brain is warped."
"We wouldn't even have time to get you off, Frank," Laura added. "You'd be safe-wording us before we could get started."
We ganged up on him pretty good, and from the look on his face, you'd think we had reached into his chest cavity and yanked out his heart. "Fine... killjoys."
He started to haul his contraption back to the garage, while Laura and I looked at each other with guilt. It should also be noted that, as scary as that thing looked, visions of him trying to take it had my dick fully charged.
"Oh, what the hell," I stopped him. "If you want to try it, we'll try it. I guess you'll need us to be your milking machine."
"No." He sat down the frame. "I've got one."
Next is Dec. 8
Laura and I waited for Frank to get whatever machine he had in mind from out of the garage. When he came back, the joke was on me.
“Jack, I want you to meet my milker, Maggie McKenzie.”
“Hello, Jack. I believe you’ve met my shit-for-brains husband, Dick.”
Maggie was naked. Her husband was anything but, assuming it truly was her husband. He was encased in black leather... boots, pants, top and hood and gloves. The hood had two eye holes, two nose holes and a zipper over his mouth. Around his neck was a black collar with metal eye rings all around. His wrists were handcuffed and the chain linking the cuffs was threaded through an eye hook at the back of his neck. Only one part of this man’s skin was exposed and that was his crotch, where an opening in the leather allowed his balls and cock to hang free and open. With an inspection from a safe distance, I tried to remember what those things looked like last time I’d bothered to look, and yes, I do believe the man mummified in leather was indeed Dick McKenzie.
A chain was hooked to one of the front-side eye hooks on his collar, and Maggie used this chain as a leash to lead him towards us.
“Where do you want him, Frank?” Maggie asked.
“Tie him up over there for now.” He pointed to the frame. “We’ll probably have to move him out of the way later.”
As Maggie wrapped her end of the chain around one of the support beams, Laura had a better idea. “No, wait a minute. Have her put him back in his cage, Frank. Jack’s seen him. We don’t need him. Just get him the hell out of here.”
This I had to see. I followed Maggie as she returned him to the garage, where they’d set up one of those dog kennels, about 3 feet high and 5 feet wide. It was the kind with strips of metal woven up and down, side to side, making a prison comprised of small squares. She led him to the open door and he obediently entered, then sat down with legs crossed Indian-style. It was a perfect fit. Inside there was a large plastic bowl with water, and another one empty for him to piss in, or at least that’s my assumption. Both bowls were made to be used by a dog, which apparently is what Dick McKenzie now was to her... and to us. She closed and locked the cage door, as Frank came up behind us.
“Well done, woman. Now, Jack, we will prepare our milker.”
He retrieved another miniature balance beam just like the one he’d brought into the basement.
“Where the hell did you get those things, Frank?” I was curious. “Did you make them?”
“No. I got ‘em at the hardware store. They’re heavy-duty saw horses. Haven’t you ever seen one?”
"Obviously, I have not.”
“Grab that board right there.” He pointed to one leaning against the wall... about one foot by six... and I followed him and Maggie back to the basement. She turned off the lights to leave her dog boy in darkness.
This set up was easy enough. We placed the two horses parallel and separate by about five feet in an open area of floor space. Then we set the board on top.
“Will you go quietly, or must we do the work?”
Maggie climbed up to lie prone on the board. Frank produced two sets of handcuffs, locking one to each of her wrists, the other ends of which were already shut. He had looped a chain through each one and now took the ends of those chains and wrapped them around the horse nearest Maggie’s head, clamping the chains to themselves with metal clips.
This made for an interesting view. Her arm pits were outside of the edges of the board, while her arms were pulled down just a bit and stretched beyond her head. And as you know, Maggie’s tits are quite handsome when stretched. They are teasingly handsome when elevated and stretched, so just imagine how they looked when Frank spread her legs and dropped her feet off either edge of the board. He had chains waiting for her ankles. They were wound to the inner bars of two heavily-weighted dumb bells, which he placed on the floor beneath her. He wound the free ends of each chain around each of Maggie’s ankles until the chain links were taut, and then clamped them to themselves with metal clips. Maggie would not be raising her legs very much, unless she could lift what I counted to be 120 pounds. I guess she could have done that, but not for long. She didn’t try so it didn’t matter.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Frank.” I wrapped my arm across his shoulder. “That looks just like John Harper on the Balance Beam.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t John Harper, is it?”
Now, I had no clue as to how this poor woman was going to be Frank’s milker, but I had a pretty good notion that something intriguing was about to happen to those sticking-way-up-in-the-air tits.
Next is Dec. 12
Which is exactly what we did. Maggie’s height was perfect, as Frank stood on one side and I the other, a slight bend of our waists bringing our mouths directly to the targets. And although there’s no denying that it was a treat to dine on those vertically protruding, perfectly rounded and divinely stretched gourds with their custom-made-for-sucking-on nipples, somehow they weren’t as satisfying to me as before. They didn’t seem as fresh and supple. They didn’t have the faint aroma or taste of chlorine. In fact, there was a bit of mustiness to them. Perhaps she had exerted too much energy getting her husband into his mummy costume; or maybe it had simply been too many hours since she had showered; but whatever it was dampened my spirits. Something else occurred that shattered the mood for both me and Frank.
“What the hell do you expect me to do?” Laura angrily questioned.
We both removed our mouths from Maggie, as Frank stood with a worried expression, one that a husband assumes when he knows he’s invited the wrath of his woman.
“Uh, how about... hmm... how about you use one of your vibrators? That ought to get things fired up.”
Laura put her hand to her mouth and yawned – not a genuine display, but mockery, which caused Frank some frustration.
“Well, ok Laura... what did you have in mind?”
“Damn, Frank. I don’t have anything in mind. This is all your idea. You tell me.”
I stood waiting for them to resolve this, thinking to myself, ‘Ooh, domestic strife! The Johnsons are having a spat... I love intrigue!’
“Ok, then, Laura, I’ll just ask Maggie what she wants. How about it Maggie? What would you like us to do with you, since you’re all stretched out here?”
“Actually, Frank, I’ve been dreaming of ways to humiliate my husband... been thinking about it ever since I first had him try on his leather suit.”
“Now, that’s a great idea.” Laura finally showed some enthusiasm. “Let’s get him out here and help Maggie beat the crap out of him.”
“Ok, fine.” Frank agreed with very little enthusiasm. “But since we went to all this trouble, is it ok with you if I get off before we cut Maggie loose?”
“Who are you asking, Frank?” Laura wanted to know.
“Anybody who gives a shit.”
Poor Frank. It was just like before. He’d gone to all this trouble to set up his saw horses and spread Maggie out, but nobody wanted to play his game, except for me.
“Hell, Frank, how about a quickie BJ while you work her over with your face?” That was my contribution.
“Whatever you do, hurry up,” Maggie suggested. “My back’s about to break in two.”
“Come on, Jack. Help me with this.” We unchained her. Obviously, the ladies had ruined Frank’s plans, ego and erection. Plus, I can tell you in advance that his mood did not improve much for quite some time. As for me, I appreciated the fact that as the swing man I could mostly remain impartial. If the women and men wanted to bicker back and forth it didn’t matter to me. There was a power struggle taking place and my only challenge was to see if I could remain neutral and horny at the same time.
Next Dec. 15
The ladies wasted no time in retrieving their caged prisoner. After Maggie led Dick in from the garage, she told Frank and I to get him hanging from the frame. We did this with cuffs to his wrists that hooked onto the lowest chain links that were bolted into one of the horizontal, overhead beams. His was able to stand with his leather boots on the floor and his arms spread above his head in a V shape.
If my text seems boring, it’s because I was bored. You see, this is what happens when things aren’t planned out properly... or in this case, when the plans are suddenly altered without consultation from all participants.
Maggie’s idea of fun times (and Laura went along with it) was to completely emasculate her husband, or if you ask me, dehumanize him. And I suppose I might have gotten into it had he been naked, but shit, everything was covered except for his balls and cock... and although they were fairly handsome, they weren’t nearly beautiful enough to overcome the (to me) ridiculous-looking black leather mummy costume.
I think Frank’s original plan was to lower the esteem of both McKenzies by putting Maggie through a workout of erotic tortures, while forcing her husband to helplessly watch without benefit of participation. I would have been all for that, but the women kind of took over to do their own thing, and since neither Frank nor I could get into it, we both ended up being mostly spectators, occasionally helping out with logistical assistance when asked.
So, let me summarize what they did as quicky as possible. Sorry, if you’re into this sort of thing you’ll have to find more enthusiastic descriptions elsewhere, because I can’t write what I don’t feel. Bottom line, they brutalized his cock and his balls. Maggie started by using a black, plastic riding crop, while Laura used her open hands. They slapped his nuts and whipped his pecker and he screamed and called them mistress... you know, one of the ladies would say, “You’re just a bitch, aren’t you?” And he’d say, “Yes, Mistress.” Then, they’d punish him anyway, regardless that he gave the correct answers, regardless that he was obedient. Laura eventually got her flogger and they had his dick so red it almost looked purple.
Of course, such attacks on the man’s penis never allowed it to become fully erect, and so he never was a man. That was the point. And the point was driven home when Maggie unzipped part of his costume to expose his butt. Then, they started whipping him there and on his balls and his cock while degrading him with verbal insults. About the time Maggie donned a strap-on dildo and Laura grabbed a hand-held dildo, I had seen enough.
I guess I was expecting Frank to come up with some clever way to participate, but he never did. I might have expected that Laura and/or Maggie would have used Frank and/or myself as their dildos to more or less fuck some femininity into their prisoner, but that never happened either, thank god. So, while Maggie fucked her husband and Laura flogged his dick, Frank and I drifted further and further away from the scene.
“Hey, Frank, my feet feel nasty after walking in your garage.”
“Are you saying my garage floor’s dirty?”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Ok. Your floor is not dirty, but it’s not spotless either. Let me try this angle, Mr. I-know-you’re-not-that-dense. How about a swim? I need some freshening up.”
“And I need some fresh air.”
So, my December 15 insertion is kind of a downer, huh? Oh, well, not all relationships are perfect, and the deterioration of ours wasn’t the end of the world. You’ve got to go through the swamp to get back on dry land. That night, the water in Mr. and Mrs. Johnson’s swimming pool never felt so good.
Next is Dec. 19