Meryl Lee - The younger the better

Denise Pritchard had no triangle of dark hair. Even her daughters had that, Bryan knew from glimpses of the girls in their mother's bathroom when the shade had been forgotten. Mrs. Pritchard had a flesh triangle that was a lust center. Her mons rose like a tiny hill under her panties. Her cunty cleft was a clear dark line barely visible before it disappeared with the inflaming curvature of her pubes into her crotch.

"Look at it, Bryan!" taunted Sandy beside him, frustrated that her mother had center stage. "Doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

"Whuh… what's goin' on… hey… please!" pleaded the captive sagging against the barn wall and straightening instantly to the prick of splintery wood on his ass cheeks.

"You are in a medieval dungeon." Mrs. Pritchard turned, pointing to the barrel wheel she had been attaching the hose to. "This is where we punish prisoners with a potency problem."

"Aw, hey!" No sensible word wanted to form as Bryan tried to absorb her meaning. Instead, he was feeling those violent inner vibrations that warned he was losing control. Last desperate try to make sense out of what had overthrown his private world of girl lusting for the next door neighbors. "I don't… guh… gosh… understaaannnn…"

"You don't have to!" giggled Pammy, the plight of super-body Bryan delighting her. "You know what we want to see."

"Bryan." Mrs. Pritchard was directly before him now, her luscious breasts jutting not an inch from his trembling chest. "The girls… my daughters… tell me you hurry into this barn at least four times on your mowing day."

"Six last week," corrected Sandy. "Always when we're in the yard or by the pool."

"And we know what he does when he sneaks out on his job. He peeks at us and plays with it." Pammy was ecstatic at the guilt in Bryan's face.

"With what? This?" Mrs. Pritchard backed half a step away and looked skeptically at the rubbery length curled over the edge of his trapped fist. "That? But how?"

Three pretty faces, smiling and mischief-loaded, were at waist height, kneeling before his trapped body. "You'll see how," promised Pammy. "I saw it just when it went hard under his show-off trunks last week once and it's really unbelieva – wow! WOW! Look!"

No way that Bryan's psyched penis, starved by a three-day famine from any frig play, could hold off any longer. He felt a kind of quicksand sensation deep in his testicles. Then the elastic snapped. Helpless in the snug grip of a bowline hitch behind his waist, Bryan Archer Quinby was on naked and devastating display to three intoxicatingly stacked females. Feeling like the end of the world, he gawked at their staring faces, inches from his hard-on, trapped by the rope laid across his wrist. Compelled to grip himself.

"I do not believe it!" exclaimed Denise Pritchard, inching closer than her daughters till the tip of her cute pug nose nudged the bulbous crimson crown. "You said it leaped, Pammy, but this has jet power!"

"Mommy… you promised," whispered a suddenly awed Sandy, reaching tentatively to touch the swollen cap and snatching her hand away when a maternal slap stung her fingers. "It's ours to learn from, right?"

Mrs. Pritchard looked casually up Bryan's muscular front. "You admit my girls have aroused you?" No harshness in her demand.

"Yeah… ah, hell! Can't you… untie me? Please?"

"Do I disturb you, too, Bryan?"

He fought for air and felt the warning urgency bubbling far off that warned of a growing spontaneous combustion in his groin. "Sure… you're, gee…!" He felt the friendliness behind her voice. "You're enough to drive any guy bananas."

"Go bananas, Bryan Quinby." Matter-of-factly she kneed forward. Now her boobs were at his thigh level. "Lower our sex slave," she ordered Pammy holding the rope. "He will jerk off at our breasts. He wants to."

It couldn't be happening to him, Bryan told himself as he felt the rope lower him till his legs bent and his cock brushed directly into Mrs. Pritchard's deep booby cleavage.

Something happened when she felt the contact of his aroused flesh. Her fingers clawed behind her shoulders to release her bra halter. Rich and jutting, the bared globes leaped for freedom.

"First demonstration, girls." She wormed closer and now her boobs framed his helpless phallus, its red cap actually nudging into the warm breast valley. "The male loves this feeling. You can make a vagina sensation with your breasts. Aren't they lovely, Bryan?" Her hand darted to both girls' bikini halters, spilling the cover from boobs as excited as her own.

"Do it, Bryan," demanded a breathless Pammy, unlike her twin sister never having seen or touched a boy in her fourteen years. It was a promise they'd made to Mommy, who had in turn, five years earlier, made the promise to them she would lead them into womanhood when they were fifteen. "Show me how a boy does himself." Pammy's eyes sparkled in expectation.

"Loosen the rope so he can move his arm," ordered Mrs. Pritchard, her head swimming to the delight of educating her two made-for-loving daughters. "Now… Bryan! Show us."

In mixed anger and lust he stared directly into the three faces, then down their curvaceous fronts at six equally staring nipples. His focus centered on Mrs. Pritchard's and the way her cleavage held his cock so naturally. Go with their game, his dazed mind urged. "So you gotta make 'em tight for me?" he croaked.

Denise Pritchard clutched her middle as the laughter bubbled. "He wants you to squeeze my breasts together over his penis while he does it. You want to feel what a pretty pussy grabs like, Bryan?"

"Sorta." He gasped the admission. "Golly, I got to!"

His fist tightened white-knuckled on his prick and he began to stroke, feeling the sweet warm clasp of the pressed-together breasts. Wild sight. Each girl tenderly gripped one of Mrs. Pritchard's ripe boobs, forcing them snugly against his cock. He'd had wild dreams about the three of them, but never this wild.

The build-up was slow coming and he knew it was a mixture of shock and the lack of traction for his feet barely touching the floor boards. The imprisoning rope was unnoticed pain on his upper arms. He would have stayed right where he was without the rope. Sudden arrogance took him as he saw the entranced stares watching him drive his cock into Mrs. Pritchard's breast cleft.

"Yahhh!" he growled, ripping his turbulent cock into view and brandishing it before three startled faces. "You want to see a man do it, do you? Well, stay right there… I dare you! You'll see!"

"See what?" Contempt dripped in Sandy's question and she leaned closer.

"This… and this!" Bryan flailed his hard-on in impetuous swipes across her cheeks, then pumped feverishly, directly into their faces.

"Look… look at the eye wink! That horrible red head jumps in and out of his fist!" shrieked Pammy.

"And something else jumps," squealed Mrs. Pritchard, sensitive to his climax nearing and seeing orgasm paralysis stiffening his frame. "Watch out!"

The seizure of his orgasm snatched all reason from Bryan. Before him three gorgeous girls with golden glorious bodies were on display. Tumbling red hair, boobs bouncing with excitement, and pink, almost transparent nipples reaching for him from each girl, forced a cry with his ejaculation. "You want to see it jump?" he shrilled hysterically. "It'll jump all over your tits!"

Milk-white and rainshower-wild, his semen shot at the eager expressions, splashing out of control into dancing eyes and open-mouthed excitement, dripping down onto three animated torsos. The three were suddenly savagely changed as they took the warm spray of his come. It was Mrs. Pritchard who seemed most jolted by the sensation.

"Oh, how it makes you feel to be masturbated at!" Her hands massaged urgently across tenderized boobs. It was follow-the-leader as both girls caught up in their mother's spell, rubbed Bryan's glistening semen into their breasts' cleavage and across their middles.