From mule@tpe.com Tue Dec 31 11:24:57 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Garden 2/2 (F/M)
From: mule@tpe.com (Mule)
Date: Tue, 31 Dec 1996 16:24:57 GMT

Warning: This story contains material of apotentially sexual nature.
Do not read it without permission of your paster, parents or
congressman.

                           The Garden
                            Chapter 2

The phone rang. I did the 100-yard dash from the back yard, and I
nearly tripped over Cleo to get it. "Hello," I said nearly out of
breath.

"Well, you certainly seem to be having a good time," the voice on
the other end responded. It was my girlfriend Gayle.

Gayle and I knew each other since the third grade when she
introduced me to the joys of playing with penises. She had a
willing enough cousin, and we played with him often. Since then,
we share everything about the boys we knew.

We even double-dommed in high school. Not that we knew too much
about female domination in those days. Heck we didn't even know
the term. All we did know is that we liked to tease boys and get
them all hot and bothered, and send them home with blue balls.
We'd stay up all night at her house or mine giggling as we
fantasized how they would go home to jerk off to relieve
themselves.

We actually did team up on one poor boy and teased him until he
couldn't take it anymore, and willingly dropped his pants and
jerked off as we watched. It was fun, and we were hooked on
making males come at our command.

Good old Gayle! Well, not so old. She was 25 like me. "I got your
voicemail," she continued. "What's this about your having 'fresh
meat?' Anyone I know?"

"Sorry, Gayle, this one's a newbie. I met him at the Botanical
Gardens last week."

"Tell me all about it!" she exclaimed.

"Well, he's late 20's early 30's, about six foot two, maybe 200
pounds, all muscle ... blond hair ... " I went on with all the
vital statistics. All but one that is.

"His cock, girl, his cock -- how big is it?" Gayle said with
exasperation.

I smiled, "He's got it where it counts. He's about six and a
half, but he shoots really well."

"Mmmmm," Gayle cooed, "Give me all the kinky details."

Gayle nearly laughed as I told her about his fetish. "Sneakers,"
she giggled, "just sneakers. That's it?"

"Yup," I replied, "he just loves them. Starts dripping at the
sight of them."

"So when do I get to meet sneaker-boy?" Gayle inquired.

"That's what I'm calling you about. Are you free Monday night?"

Gayle indicated that she was.

"Good, be here at six. Bring some wine. We'll make a party of it.

                              -=o=-

I never asked Bob if he were available for Monday night. I
figured if I wanted him to be available, he'd be available.
That's the way it's supposed to work.

Bob arrived early. I suppose it was because he wanted not to
incur my wrath. I giggled and sent him off to the laundry room to
get undressed, and to put on his sneakers.

Meanwhile, I slipped into something more comfortable: A white kit
top with blue trim, short blue skirt and matching sneakers.

Bob came out of the spare room preceded by his erect penis. I
love my men in this condition; totally aroused and totally in my
control.

The doorbell rang.

"Answer that, sweetie." I commanded.

"Like this?" was his extremely predictable response.

"I gave you an order. There were no qualifiers on it."

Reluctantly, he opened the door. There on the threshold, was a
giggling and grinning Gayle.

I could see Bob's penis rise to greet Gayle as she stood there in
her cheerleader outfit. How I envied her! I could never fit in
any of my high school clothes. But she was an aerobics
instructor, and that tended to keep her weight down. She did
substitute Keds for the Reeboks she normally wore to the gym.

"Take Ms. Gayle's purse, Bob. Don't leave her standing there like
that."

I gave Bob a tour of the kitchen and showed him where things
were. "Now, I want you to fix up some hors d'oeuvres and wine for
Ms. Gayle and me. You can serve us in the living room."

Gayle and I retreated to my sanctuary. "Where did you ever get
him. He's so cute." Gayle cooed.

"He just followed me home from school one day," I laughed. "You
should have seen him; looking at all the girls’ feet. Now that I
think back on it, he was getting turned on by 11- and 12-year old
girls. Well, their feet, and what they were wearing on them
anyway."

Gayle looked as if she had an inspiration, "You’re right! Some of
those girls are big enough to wear adult-sized clothes and shoes.
A sneaker is a sneaker, right?"

Bob came bustling in with the wine and some other goodies on a
tray.

"Put them right here, Bob," I said in my coolest tones.

Bob bent over and set the tray down.

"Nice tush!" Gayle whistled.

Bob’s face reddened as he stood our informal inspection of his
body.

"Turn around," I commanded, "Show Gayle what you have."

Bob stood up and turned to face Gayle. Sitting as she was, his
penis was just about eye-level. She looked at it critically.

"They’ve certainly gotten bigger and better since we’ve first
seen one, eh Marylin?"

Bob’s blush extended over most of his body by this time. His
penis, however remained hard, wet and dripping.

"Whatever are we going to do with this?" Gayle said mockingly
while pointing at his penis

"Go fetch a chair from the kitchen," I ordered Bob. Gayle and I
watched the sensuous wiggling of his cute buns as he retreated.

Gayle looked at me and mouthed, "What??"

"Oh nothing," I responded aloud, "I just want to give our little
sneaker-boy something to remind him of who’s boss around here."

"Put it right there," I commanded, indicating a place in the
center of the room facing Gayle.

I walked over to the chair, sat down, slipped off my sneakers and
pointed to my lap. Without a word, Bob walked over and started to
get over my knee.

"Not so fast," I admonished him, "Let me get you fixed up." I
slipped one of my sneakers over his cock. "Now you’re ready."

Turning to Gayle, I continued, "Last time we did this, he made
such a mess!"

Grabbing my other sneaker, I raised it high and brought it down
with the now-familiar "POCK" sound.

Gayle sat watching, smiling and sipping her wine as she casually
crossed her legs, dangling her foot inches in front of Bob’s
nose.

I kept pocking Bob’s ass until I had it bright pink.

"Had enough?" I asked. Bob turned his tear streaked face towards
me. It was answer enough. After all, I don’t want to damage my
toys.

"I think it’s time to give him a rest. What do you think, Gayle?"

Gayle simply nodded. That’s what I liked about Gayle. She always
backed me up. Even when I got some hair-brained scheme when we
were in high school, she’d always play along, even though she
sometimes never knew what I really had in mind. If it involved
boys, she was always on my side.

I led Bob to the bedroom on all fours the same way I did the last
time I played with him.

"Mmmmm, this is making me so wet," I heard from the voice behind
me.

When Bob arrived at the bedroom, he found things differently then
when he left several days ago. There were cuffs and bungee chords
laid out on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Gayle, give me a hand with these," I asked as we picked up the
cuffs and started t shackle him to the bed.

One of the nice things about bungee chords is that they are light
weight, do not set off airport metal detectors, and if you keep
them with your bicycle or in the trunk of your car, nobody
questions why you have them. Another nice thing is that they are
so versatile when it comes to bondage. You can rig them around
just about every type of bed frame found in hotels world-wide.
Even better is that they give a little. The bondee can struggle
and pull at his restraints. He has little potential for hurting
himself, wile you get a terrific show.

Soon, Gayle and I had Bob spread-eagle, face up on the bed. His
penis was sitting straight up and begging like a puppy for
attention. Attention it soon got.

I undid the white laces on my sneaker and used it to lash a small
vibrator to Bob’s penis. Putting the vibrator on low speed, I
placed the sneaker over the entire assembly. I held the whole
thing in place with a bungee chord.

Gayle and I sat down to watch the show. I lit up a cigarette and
casually chatted with Gayle about the daily events in our lives.
Neither of us wanted to give Bob the satisfaction that we were
the least bit interested in his predicament, but I could see that
Gayle was sneaking furtive peeks at him as he tried to hump and
curl his body within the limits of his restricted mobility. I had
to keep from staring myself.

Bob kept straining against his bonds, trying to draw his legs
together. I could tell from the noise made by the vibrator, that
he must have been getting some increased stimulation from the
act.

Gayle and I continued to sip at our wine.

Bob was tiring from his effort. Looking at Gayle, I sought a
non-verbal accord. She smiled subliminally, and gave the faintest
nod. I had her consensus on giving Bob the coup de grace.

I got up and walked slowly towards the bed. Bob strained to kiss
any part of my body. I stayed tantalizingly out of his reach. I
slipped my hand inside the sneaker and he moaned. I twisted the
base of the vibrator. The volume and tempo picked up.

I turned, offering my shorts-clad ass to him. He kissed it and I
giggled as I slowly sauntered away.

Gayle and I sat on the edges of our chairs as we had our eyes
fixed on the spectacle before us. We were like men watching the
Super Bowl. We didn’t want to miss the slightest bit of action.

Bob was wiggling around on the bed wildly. He was trying to sit
up, but the bungees prevented that. I wondered for a moment if
they’d hold, or f he’d break the bedposts loose. He started
convulsing his body. Shuttering, and gasping he let out a yell.
Every muscle in his body tightened. He rocked rhythmically. The
sneaker bounced up and down under the contractions of his orgasm.

After a minute of this, he collapsed, rasping and breathing hard.
I stepped up, and approached his spent frame. I looked at the
pools of come seeping from under the sneaker. Carefully, I
reached in and turned off the vibrator.

I looked back at Gayle. She was wide-eyed. "Wow!" she exclaimed,
"You really know how to show a girl a good time. Can we do this
again?"

I looked at my bound and content pet. He managed a weak smile and
a nod.

--
Mule@tpe.com

For more stories try http://www.tpe.com/~mule