Sunday, June 14, 2015

Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 7

I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. Ginny, frantic, saying, Jasper, wake up.... John has escaped.

Huh? Oh, no... he wouldn't... not after five days... any ideas where he might've gone to... to, light up?

Well, slip on some shoes, Jasper... let's see if we can catch him in the act. 

Ginny led the way out the back door of their house... the Friday morning sun no more than a few inches above the horizon... I was in my tennis shoes and underwear... Ginny in tennis shoes, panties and t-shirt... through the open barn doors we ventured... to the back of the barn... into the former corn crib... through the open trap door... and down to the Crosby dungeon...

There he was... upside down... hanging from a horizontal bar bolted to wooden ceiling beam... his ankles in leather straps hooked to the bar... foam padding inside the leather straps... his legs spread wide... his arms hanging free... straight down... fingers... inches from the floor... and the only thing he had on him... was an athletic jock strap... which prevented his dick from hanging down on his belly... no, instead, bulging inside its pouch, John's cock pointed straight forward... with his nuts exposed... dangling on either side of the fabric... ha... obviously, Ginny had already caught her husband in the act... 

John goes... Jasper... this here's my ball munching configuration... so get to munching...

Although it was tempting, I did not fall for his trap... I said, hey, John Crosby, I don't know who you think you are... I take my orders from Ginny, not you... so what do you say, Ginny... about his balls? 

She goes... oh, he's got balls, that's for sure... let me tell you what he did... he crawled over the top of you... left our bed without permission... trying to sneak off somewhere... so I watched him quietly leave the room... heard him creep down the stairs... at which time I left the bedroom to follow him... watched him step into his outside boots that he keeps by the kitchen door... heard the door open and close... I peeked out the window... watched him go inside the barn... so I put on my shoes to follow him... saw him go into his workshop... where the corn crib used to be... and I rushed in just as he was about to light up a cigarette... he had an entire pack hidden inside his toolbox... 

John goes... Jasper... she broke that cigarette right in two... such a waste.

Not only that, Jasper... I grabbed the rest of the pack... dropped 'em to the floor and stomped on them...  

Good for you, Ginny... 

You should have seen him... drooping his head like he's a whipped dog... 

Well, that's exactly what he is... oughtta be ashamed of himself... 

I told him to get his ass down those stairs and suspend himself in these ankle straps... told him not to make a sound until I got back... that's when I came to get you, Jasper. 

Well, thank god you were awake, Ginny... he would have thrown away all of our hard work... can you imagine that... after all we've done for him... this is how he shows his gratitude. 

I know, Jasper... hard to believe, isn't it. 

Yes, it is, Ginny...

The good news is... we have saved him from himself, again... the bad news is... he's just too damn strong for his own good... we're going have to punish him for a long time before we can... get our message through that thick skull of his... 

John says... Well... whatever you're going to do... I wish you'd both shut the hell up and get on with it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the last words spoken by John Crosby for quite some time... because Ginny Crosby told me to go to the storage cabinet and get her duct tape... remember duct tape? I told you it would come into play, eventually... John got a wide strip stuck to his mouth... after Ginny told him to open his mouth about half way... and better yet... Ginny used an ink pen to poke a hole in the center of his duct tape gag... and into this hole she inserted a salvaged cigarette...  unlit... mangled, but still intact. 

She goes... There, mister... suck on that, you want one so bad... 

And the sad thing is... he did suck on it, grumbling underneath his duct tape for us to light it up for him... I said, Ginny... look at that... is that not pathetic?

Tragic, might be more accurate...

Yes, tragically beautiful... well, Ginny, seems to me we've got to find something for his lungs to do... take his mind off of his desires... 

Hmm... well, Jasper, why don't we kill two birds with one stone?

Ok, what did you have in mind?

Well, Jasper, his body is speaking to me, as though it's begging to be stretched.

Ah... as in, stretched on the rack? 

Not only that, I also want him to exert himself... make him fill his lungs with air, rather than smoke. 

She pointed to John's workout bench... do you remember his workout bench? Oh, yes... how he did suffer on that thing... but this time, Ginny told me to bring those two dumb bells sitting on the floor underneath his workout bench... I was more than happy to oblige her... Now, as I reached down to pick those things up... I counted... three, ten-pound plates on each side... for each dumb bell... I rolled them out... did a squat, grabbed 'em... used my legs to bring those things up... and made my way towards... hanging upside down John...

Take 'em, mister... instructed, Ginny... one at a time, 65 pounds was transferred from each of my hands, to each of John's hands... 130 pounds of gravity stretching him... from his split wide open legs down to his straight line arms and strong-ass, clutching onto dumbbell hands... ah, the muscles exploded in his chest, belly, biceps, triceps, thighs, shoulders, back, and buttocks, as Ginny and I slowly circled him like vultures, inspecting every inch of our masculine marvel... oh, yes, he was gloriously stretched, vertically... on the rack. 

Now, the fun began... Ginny knelt down in front of his face... removed the cigarette from his duct tape hole... and said, bring those to your chest... give me ten of 'em... John raised those dumbbells straight up, elbows bending toward us, pressed them onto his chest, and then slowly lowered them... and while he did this exercise, Ginny and I stripped... 

About time we got naked... whew, oh, perhaps I forgot to mention that for... whatever reason, Ginny had turned off the air conditioner in that... now stifling, underground dungeon of theirs... and even though it was still early morning, the temperature was rapidly rising...

By the time John'd reached the count of eight... his arm pits were moist... little beads of sweat had formed on his chest hairs... his belly hairs... and as he completed his first repetition of dumbbell lifts... allowing his arms to hang straight down... allowing 130 pounds to resume his stretch rack torture... John Crosby sounded like a vacuum pump, his nostrils flaring... his mouth, sucking air through that tiny hole in his duct tape.

Ginny gave him about 30 seconds of rest... no more... then she goes, give me flies, mister... twenty of 'em... our strong man lifted 130 pounds to his ear level... elbows bending out... 90 degree angles... his pectorals expanded... his belly flexed tight... every line and curve rising to the surface... he brought his dumbells up fast... let them down slow... straining every muscle... his skin starting to glisten... his voice starting to grunt on his exhales... and as John Crosby completed his 19th lift, his arms lowered, pumped to lift and lower for the final time... Ginny grabbed my hand and we knelt before him, watched up close as he raised his dumbbells, his task nearly finished... until Ginny said... hold it right there mister... he was only halfway finished with his final lift... dumbbells parallel with his ears, arms and chest locked in his struggle to keep them there... Ginny reached for his shrunken tit, told me to grab the other one... we pinched on 'em, tugged on 'em... twisted them... John's body was locked in place... his rock solid muscles... flexing... his muscle-pumped skin... drenched with sweat... his cock doing everything in its power to break out of its fabric prison... the cloth, stretched tight... separating his nuts... 

Ginny goes... Jasper, get the step ladder, climb up there behind him... give him what he wants... there were 3 steps on the ladder... I needed two... my face emerged... inside his wishbone... I opened my mouth... I've called 'em his bull nuts... I've said they were like oranges... each one of 'em is in reality two and one half inches in diameter... do you hear me? Each of John Crosby's nuts is two and one half inches filled with his manly come... fucking monsters... I engulfed the right one, caressed it with my lips... licked it with my tongue, tasted his brine... I finger pinched his left nut... tugging its skin... tugging its hairs... twisting its sweat-covered flesh... Ginny continued pinching his tits... I worshiped his nuts... while the mighty John Crosby hung there upside down... holding his dumbbells at his ears... straining every muscle... grunting, groaning... his hard cock bouncing inside its fabric prison... wiggling like a giant worm... a monstrosity... a writhing sea serpent... and as Ginny gave him permission to finish his rep... he let his arms drop... weight of the dumbbells stretching him again... his vacuum pump struggling for oxygen.

I altered my attack, munched on his left nut... pinched on his right... removed his salt, replaced it with my spit... while Ginny kept working his tits, gave him an order that caused him to whimper... 20 more flies, mister... now!

He strained to raise his arms... his muscles had not been given time to recover... they were burning... they were weak... but still, his belly exploded with power, triceps, biceps, pectorals inflating with blood, pumped to capacity... he groaned with each lift... muffled by duct tape... he sucked in air through his nostrils... their holes wide open... and as his pace became lethargic, as his muscles reached their limits of endurance, Ginny let go his tits, stood up, unleashed a furious assault of fists to his hard belly... ah, shit... and I'm right there close... looking down at his belly... her knuckles smacking against his brick wall... his sweat flying in all directions... hell, he didn't even feel those punches... he was too busy concentrating on his task... his belly flexed tight... as I scraped the skin off his nuts with my tongue... his legs spread wide open... his throbbing cock pointing forward... imprisoned by fabric... I grabbed it with my fingers... fabric separating me from him... I squeezed on his shaft... crushed him in my grip... licked on his nuts... the left one, the right one... while Ginny kept pounding on him... punching on his hard gut... and John counted for us... groaning like a man... 18... 19... 20...

John's body collapsed... dumbbells straight down, stretching him on the rack... Ginny picked up that cigarette... struck a match... lit the damn thing, sucked with her mouth to get it going... kept the smoke in her mouth... blew out the smoke before it could get inside her lungs... here, mister... smoke this... she tried to stick it in his duct tape hole... but he turned his head... here damn, you... I said smoke this... she ripped off his duct tape...  

(John) No... (heavy breathing)... get it away from me... don't want it... you can't make me... I... uh... please, don't make me... get that nasty thing away from me... I can't stand the smell of it... it's making me sick... can't breath... think I'm gonna puke... no... please.

We broke him...

Ginny and I looked at one another... grinning from ear to ear... ha... I stepped down, took the dumbbells from John's failing grip and set them on the floor... then I grabbed Ginny, hugged her... kissed her... took the cigarette away from her and carried it into the bathroom, flushed it down the toilet.

When I got back, John was still hanging... breathing heavy, filling his hard-working lungs with hot, but fresh... air... Ginny climbed the step ladder, while I wrapped my arms around John, pressed my face into his, sweat-slick belly. I lifted him up so Ginny could unhook his ankle straps... and I gently lowered him until his hands reached the floor... supported him, until he got his feet on the floor... and then, we laid him on his back... removed his ankle straps... transferred them to another place...

And now, cousins... I am going to torture you... you wanna know how? I will tell you that we are not finished with John Crosby... not by a long shot... he pissed us off... ok? That was a shitload of hard work he put us through... and we were not happy about it... we were pleased with ourselves for having helped him... but at the same time, we both felt like wailing away on him with our fists... and believe you me, we could have done just that... John was too exhausted to defend himself from anything we wanted to do... but that would have been too easy.

No, we needed something a little more dramatic... and for that part of the story... you are gonna have to wait... that's how I am going to torture you... ha... so, until next time, this is Jasper McCutcheon... good night... good wank... and sweet dreams. 

  

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