Don Russell: The dog ballers

The slender brunette worked her long, slim fingers over the rounded slopes and across Myra's compressed nipples. Then she unfastened one button, then another.

Myra squirmed at the sudden release of pressure. She felt her breasts expand and glanced down at the smooth fullness of their inner curves. She looked at Bonnie and noted the other's continued dissatisfaction.

"Not enough," Bonnie commented. "Honey, you've got really good boobs!" She reached for the next button.

"Don't!" whispered Myra. "Not yet. Please?"

Bonnie grinned. She seemed to have worked off her own apprehension and uncertainty. She was obviously enjoying the game thoroughly. "You're just too damn good to keep covered up like this, honey." She ignored Myra's weakening protests and loosened two more buttons.

The upper part of the smock separated at the front and settled to the sides. It fell free of Myra's breasts and ribs to leave the soft mounds naked. Peach-tinted nipples projected above pale flesh. Her position made the mounds flatten and spread under their own weight, and they bulged at the other sides. Their awkward form heightened Myra's consciousness of her position and the gleaming highlights focused her attention on the lighting. The brilliance of the overhead chandelier, centered over the table, forced itself into prominence. She felt suddenly as brightly illuminated as if she were in surgery.

"God, Bonnie! Can't you turn off the chandelier? It's so damn bright!"

Bonnie laughed softly. "On you, that looks good, honey. You got nothing to hide!"

"Oh, dear," Myra subsided. Pleading would do nothing for her, and she was determined not to draw attention to her renewed embarrassment.

Bonnie leaned forward to clutch Myra's left breast with both hands. "You take the other one."

Leanne giggled self-consciously and glanced into Myra's eyes as if to reassure herself Myra would not be angry. With an apologetic, embarrassed expression, she touched Myra's right breast. "Ooh, you're warm!" she exclaimed. Her fingers probed experimentally at the soft, yielding flesh.

Myra rolled her eyes back and gasped. The sensation of two pairs of hands manipulating her boobs was a novel one. The intensity of the resulting surge of pleasure caught her unprepared and made her arch her back sharply.

"Mmmmmm… oooo, that feels good!" she moaned softly, then bit her lip.

"Ooo, it feels so funny!" Leanne kneaded carefully, as if afraid she was going to hurt Myra. But even in her uncertainty, her fingers seemed to possess an instinctive skill at finding the most sensitive, pleasurable locations and pressures.

Bonnie appeared to be as uncertain as Leanne but less fearful of hurting their captive. She massaged firmly and confidently, pressing inward on the bulges and letting her thumbs imprison the hardening nipple.

Myra jerked first at one wrist, then the other, her shoulders twisting and her head swinging from side to side. The delicious heat that was building in her boobs seemed to race through her and collect in her cunt, and the inner tendons in her thighs worked with convulsive, irregular spasms.

The men's hands grew more insistent. Blunt fingertips probed and squeezed at her belly and sides, and somebody seemed to be kneading her thighs vigorously. She became dimly aware that someone was unfastening the button over her navel, and she squirmed helplessly while one button after another came undone. Her smock slid gradually further open; she felt its treacherous friction at her sides, then at her hips, and suddenly the hem, which had cut deeply into the outer sides of her thighs, let go and fell away. In a mixture of terror and fierce lust, she struggled to raise her head. She stared open-mouthed past the hands that caressed her boobs. Her belly gleamed palely, drum taut from the stretched position of her arms and thighs. Her lower abdomen formed a gently rounded dome, and the wheat tones of her pubic hair glimmered. She was horrified at the way her thighs sloped outward and down away from her hips; she realized her cunt was distended and jutting – an open invitation to the searching fingers of the men.

The picture her naked body presented overpowered her with its suggestion of lewd eagerness, and she let her head sink back. "Omigod!" she whispered. A groan bubbled on her lips.

She had gazed long enough to know Jim had positioned himself between her knees, and she was certain it was he who was now working his thumbs upward along the inner depression along her thighs toward her cunt. Her husband had been on her left and Ward on her right, but she found it impossible to distinguish between their hands as they fondled her belly and worked their fingers into the tangled mass of her pubic hair.

She cried out with pleasure when she felt Jim's thumbs press at her labia. "Eeyaghhh! Mmmm, yes! Gooood!" Her asscheeks winked, and her hips jerked upward. She pushed the backs of her thighs hard against the edge of the table and elevated her pelvis.

Jim stroked the outer surfaces of her cunt, his rough skin catching on fine hair and sliding back and forth in a regular rhythm that drew moans of happiness from her.

"Don't look, Jim. Please don't look!" she whispered. Somehow it seemed all right for him to play with her cunt if he refrained from looking at it. But another quick peek destroyed her hopeful optimism; he was obviously intent on the appearance of the flesh he was caressing. She dropped back with a shudder. "Oh, Jim! Ohhh, Jim!"

His caresses worked gradually inward. She felt a growing tension in her labia and knew they were swelling and opening under her increasing excitement. A sensation of heat, deep inside her cunt and spreading to her cunt-mouth, warned her that she had begun to ooze wetness in response to the delight she felt. She twisted, hot and eager.

Bonnie bent to put her mouth to Myra's breast. She lipped the rigid nipple, her lips feeling soft and moist to Myra as they closed on the puckering sides of the stiff little lump. Myra inhaled sharply and felt a rush of giddiness. Too many things were happening at once for her to brace herself. Bonnie licked at the top of the nipple and chewed gently, her teeth hard and smooth on the quivering tit.

Leanne's fingers stopped massaging, and Myra saw the black-haired beauty eyeing Bonnie's actions.

"Feels good, doesn't it, dear?" Leanne gazed thoughtfully into Myra's contorted face.

"Yes!" whispered Myra. "Oh, God, yes!"

"Doesn't it make you feel funny to have women playing with you?"

"Unhhh! Ooh, yes! But you're both awful good! As if you knew exactly what would feel best!" Myra was startled to realize how deeply she had resented having the women taking part. There was something right and natural in having the men paw at her. In a way, it had seemed inevitable. Give a gang of men a helpless female, and they were bound to start grabbing. But to be fondled by other women had seemed humiliating. The fact she was no longer irritated by the feminine attention puzzled her. Still, she was too inflamed now to make any effort to sort out her confused emotions. "It feels strange, but I can't help the way it makes my body feel."

Leanne smiled tenderly and imitated Bonnie. She caught Myra's other nipple in her mouth and sucked, her tongue playing over the tingling button while Myra tilted her head back and moaned with delight.

Jim's thumbs parted the swelling labia and began to glide through the thick wetness that coated their inner slopes. Myra jerked her hips eagerly. She was no longer able to sort her feelings; if she was embarrassed, her embarrassment merely intensified her excitement. If she was conscious of the violation of convention, the consciousness added a delicious sense of wickedness. If her modesty was being shredded, her lewd position and movements spiced the welter of pleasurable sensations. She abandoned herself to her excitement and writhed furiously.