Jasper would like to serialize in text what he's told in audio, even though this text was written for audio. This is called Air Tight and is under the Schwangin' With Marrieds banner at the Jardonn's Erotic Tales web site. On the blog I'll simply use names of the three-way participants.
You might remember that last year I spent part of my vacation with the Crosby’s... almost a full week... on the farm... in the summer... planned to coincide with their daughter’s absence. She was at some sort of recreational camp one hundred miles away.
Upon my arrival... early afternoon... Ginny wasted no time... greeting me on the front porch... asking me if I wanted anything to eat, which I did not... and taking me directly to the barn... through the barn... to the back... to the old corn crib... now John’s work shop... where the trap door that would lead us underground was open and waiting... I went first, and down below, something else was also waiting.
John was on his flat workout bench... you know, the weight lifting kind... he was face up... ropes on his wrists... his arms spread wide beyond his head and down towards the floor... his ankles also in ropes... heels on the floor... and legs also spread wide... that poor man didn’t have a stitch of clothes on him...
Now, normally, regardless of John’s situation... he will greet me with a very enthusiastic, hello Jasper... and a big old bear hug... if he’s able to do so... but this time... John looked at me without saying a word... and if I didn’t know better... which I did not... I’d say he was pissed off about something... he glared at me, then at Ginny... he was breathing hard... and growling ever so slightly every time he exhaled...
Now, I’d seen John tied up before... and even though he is a good actor... I can always tell that it’s just part of the game... besides, we do have a safe word... by now you should know what it is... (CAROLINA!)
This time John seemed a little different... like he was in some very real pain.
I turned to his loving wife... I said, hell, Ginny, how long has he been stretched out like this?
She goes... before noon, I guess.
You're telling me he’s been tied up here an hour or better?
Yeah, that’s about right.
What did he do to deserve such punishment?
She goes, it began yesterday... when he decided that he was going to give up cigarettes... since then he’s been taking his frustrations out on me... and I am sick of it. So, I put him on the torture bench... this way I don’t have to be around him if I don’t wanna be.
Well, how long do you think he can take being stretched out like that... with his chest sticking up in the air... and his backbone arched like a slice of cantaloupe?
Oh, don’t worry about him, Jasper... he’s strong as an ox... I could leave him here all day if I wanted to... all night for that matter...
Well, whatever you think... if that’s what it takes to keep him off your case, then I’m all for it. So, what are we gonna do?
I don’t know what you think, but I’d like a screw.
Ha... well, Ginny, I’m always up for that. Let’s go. Leave him here to grumble to himself.
No. I thought we’d do it on this mattress right here... make him watch.
Oh, ok. Hell, doesn’t matter to me where we do it. Let’s just do it.
And finally, as Ginny and I undressed ourselves, John added his two cents...
God damn you... get me off this thing.
Ginny said... John Crosby... you’re not going anywhere... and if you don’t keep your mouth shut... I will shut it for you... I do believe there’s some duct tape upstairs in your shop... are you going to make me go get it?
(John)Aw, shit... the hell with you, then.
Ha... and that was the end of that discussion... John’s torture bench was strategically placed beside the mattress, where all he had to do was turn his head to watch me boink his wife. Ginny laid her soft, healthy skinned body, nourished by clean country air, onto the center of the mattress... and I covered her with my hard, working on the loading docks body... clamping my lips onto hers... as we tied our tongues together... and my chest smashed down on her titties... and my fully engorged cock rubbed back and forth all around the portal to her treasure... and just as I’s about to slide on in there... that god damn man on his torture bench interrupted us again.
Jasper... be a pal... there’s a pack of cigarettes in my truck... go get ‘em... just give me one... that’s all I need... just one smoke... one puff... help me out here, buddy.
Ah, shit, John... are you fucking crazy? You know damned good and well that if I give you one you’re gonna be right back where you started... Believe me, I’ve been where you are... six years ago... and day two is pure hell... you cannot have just one, John... not ever again...
My suggestion to you is this... fill your lungs to capacity with air... take deep breaths every time you inhale... it is the only thing you can do to alleviate your pain... and don’t say another word to me about it, because even though I haven’t had one for six years, just talking about it makes my lungs want one... even though they would not like it if they had it... but after one, then there’d be another... and they would like that one ... and the third and the fourth and six years of effort would be thrown out the window, so shut the hell up.
John took my suggestion... filled his big old chest with air... he pushed that air out... flattening his already stretched belly... there was just enough play in his ropes so he could strain his legs, lift his heels a couple of inches off the floor... he flexed his arms, bringing his hands just a little bit closer to his head... making his massive chest expand and rise even higher... his muscles exploded with power... oh, he was suffering... on his bench of torture... suffering from two hours of being stretched... suffering from the unholy curve in his spine... suffering from his nicotine withdrawal... and suffering from watching me boink his wife.
(next part, next week)