Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
A Short Story by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)
This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that’s not your thing, don’t read it. If it is unlawful for you to read this type of material where you reside due to your age or whatever, don’t read it. Nothing in this story is intended to represent real people, events or actual medical conditions. All characters in sexual situations are over the age of 18 regardless of any age portrayed for dramatic or narrative purposes. Please enjoy this story responsibly and do not repost without permission. This story is copyright©2016 the author.
(Author’s Note: This story is set in the same universe as Aria. See my Works page.)
~~~
I was a Sophomore in high school when the women moved in next door. They were a beautiful couple in their late twenties with matching wedding bands. Same-sex marriages were still a novelty in Texas then, especially here in the panhandle.
Much to my surprise, my mom, a dyed-in-the-wool conservative who was never in good health, wound up befriending them. When I came home from school I’d often find Gretchen and Sonya chatting and sipping wine with my mom on the back patio. It made me happy to see Mom so cheerful. My father had walked out of our lives back when I was a baby and she never remarried. We never had any financial worries because Mom was one of the last original Texas oil heiresses, but I know she got lonely in our big old house with just me for company.
I had been particularly bad company since I hit my teenage years. I did not know how to deal with my mom’s illness and so retreated into my two obsessions: cars and online porn. We had several old junkers on our property and my head spent more time under their hoods than in my school books. Getting one of these beaters to run gave me a badly-needed sense of accomplishment and control in my life. The rest of the time I was locked in my room humping my greased-up fist to an endless waterfall of internet smut.
I was a snarky, defensive and solitary kid. I had no friends or girlfriends and told myself I didn’t want them. In my own way I was as lonely as Mom.
Sonya and Gretchen changed all of that. They made the last three years of my mother’s life wonderful. They drew me out as well. They were gorgeous and gregarious and funny. I always liked being around them. Moreover, I liked me when I was around them. They brought out a funny, articulate, sociable side of myself I never knew I had. They included me whenever they came over, which I knew did my mother’s heart a world of good (and mine too).
Sonya was a buxom blonde with topaz-blue eyes and great masses of hair like braided sunshine. When she let it hang loose, it fell to the small of her back. Gretchen was a gold-filtered brunette with green eyes. Her hair fell in waves to her shoulder blades. She was just as chesty as her wife but perhaps a little bit bigger in the ass department. They were both the exact same height: five feet, seven inches.
One day, about a year after we met them, they were in the kitchen with Mom chopping up some exotic salad or other and I noticed Sonya’s T-shirt. It said, Some Chicks have Dicks–Get used to it. The words were in a circle with multiple male-and-female gender symbols spiraling from the center. It was the emblem of the Ouroboros Society, a nonprofit safeguarding the rights of women with Sandoval’s Exoplasia. I knew from trawling around online that cases were spiking again. Not as much as in the early two-thousands, but almost. I wondered if Sonya or Gretchen were packing. Or maybe both.
As it turns out, I didn’t have to wonder long. Mom came hobbling into the garage one Tuesday evening as I tinkered away under a jacked-up old Cadillac Eldorado. She sat down painfully and thumped her cane on the floor. That was her signal for me to stop what I was doing and mind her. I did.
“Barnesworth,” she said. “I’m sure you know summer’s just around the corner.”
I glanced at the bikini calendar on the wall and saw to my surprise that she was right. In our part of Texas, the difference between winter and summer pretty much amounted to warm-and-dry versus hot-and-dry. The seasons have a way of sneaking past you.
“It’s supposed to be very hot this year and I have given our friends an open invitation to use our pool. I trust I can rely on you to behave in a mature and respectful manner should you come home to find them in their bathing suits?”
“Oh Jesus, Mom!” My pimply moon face burned to the way to the tips of my jug-handle ears. It felt like cartoon steam might blow out of them. “Of course you can. I’m not a kid.”
Underneath my embarrassment and resentment, my dick was doing somersaults. Seeing our voluptuous neighbors in bikinis would be marvelous. Not to mention masturbatory gold to bank in Fort Spank.
Mom smiled at me. “You are a kid, Barnesworth.” She erzurum escort threw a dry glance at the row of nudie pin-ups tacked to the wall. “At least until you grow up a little more.”
I stared at the floor. I was eighteen, but it was pointless to remind of her of that. I was the oldest Junior in my high school. I’d under-performed a few years back and had to repeat a year. Mom never let me live that down.
“I won’t embarrass you,” I muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said with real exasperation. “They like you, Worthy, and I don’t want you to wreck that. You need mature female friends in your life.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll be cool.”
I honestly didn’t know how cool I could be around the Tantalizing Twosome in skimpy swimwear, but I was resolved to try.
Mom drew a deep breath. “There’s something else I need to say. Gretchen has a…well, a condition. They call it Sandoval’s Exoplasia.”
“She’s a dickgirl?” I blurted. Having that confirmed by my mother was the last thing I’d expected.
“Barnesworth!” She snapped. “I don’t ever want to hear that word in this house again. It’s a slur, as you very well know. The proper term for women with Gretchen’s condition is Exoplasian.”
“Fine.”
No one ever called them that. Exoplasians sounded like invaders from planet Dildor. Everybody used nicknames like exo’s or dickgirls.
Mom let out a deep and long-suffering sigh. “It’s important to me that they feel at home here. I want Gretchen to be comfortable. Her…condition will be impossible to conceal if she’s wearing some teensy little two-piece. I don’t want her to feel self-conscious. Which will be impossible if some googly-eyed teenage boy is staring at her with his tongue hanging out. Do I make myself clear?”
My ears steamed up again, but I bit back a dozen sarcastic retorts. “All clear.”
The bikinis were still a while away. In the meantime, I got to know our married neighbors. And they got to know me. Which, in a way, meant I got to know me as well.
They asked me questions and were honestly interested in the answers. It was the most amazing thing. Through our conversations, I discovered my own thoughts and opinions.
I began to understand why my mother valued her new friends, and why she wanted them in my life. They became my friends as well, or at least I was able to talk to them without becoming a googly-eyed, tongue-dragging idiot. This last part took a while; not only were the ladies poised and lovely, but also achingly well-curved, even in the modest caftans and sun dresses they wore.
I wanted them to like me, so I behaved. There was nothing I could do about the erections they gave me, however, and those were many. I always tried to be sitting down if we talked for any length of time. I always tried to have a table between us. I became a master of the nonchalant leg-cross.
I’m certain my mother never knew how often Sonya and Gretchen gave me wood (and petrified wood at that). Sonya may have noticed once or twice, but Gretchen had a dick. There was no way I was ever fooling her. Every time I would employ some boner-concealing tactic, a slow and knowing smile would spread across her beautiful face. She would say something like, “You know Grace,” (my mother’s name) “the speeding fines around here are awfully stiff,” and throw me a cheeky look.
If it made me visibly uncomfortable, she’d follow it up with something like, “I had tennis elbow last year, and it was just throbbing.”
When I really started to squirm, she wouldn’t let up at all. “I hope ya’ll like the guacamole, the recipe was really hard.”
Every time she’d give me that I-know-you’ve-got-a-stiffy smile. She was a beast.
One day Gretchen’s covert sassy talk gave me a particularly persistent and painful one. I managed to flee the kitchen by volunteering to take out the trash. I scuttled to safety holding a big garbage bag in front of my crotch and then dashed up the back way to my room.
I locked the door and masturbated. My release was explosive; I shuddered all over as the gloop pumped into my favorite hand towel. I laid back, relaxed and light-headed.
The amount of sperm I was producing amazed me. Ever since our neighbors started coming over, my balls seemed to have tripled their output. I swear my dick and my nuts even looked bigger. I could come three or four times in one sitting, and while that might not be overly impressive for a boy in his teens, I got the feeling I could keep going. Time-and-sleep constraints seemed to be the only things holding me back.
Later that day, after my mom went upstairs for her nap, I overheard Sonya and Gretchen chatting in another room.
“You tease that poor boy too much, Gretchen.”
“Oh, come on, he loves it. Besides, how can I resist? He’s at that age, you know? All hard-ons and embarrassment and jism. He’s adorable.”
My ears steamed up again (no esat escort adolescent boy likes to be called adorable) but my boner resurrected at once. I had to tiptoe back up to my room to masturbate again.
~~~
The bikinis arrived on a scorching-hot Saturday in May. I was swimming in the pool, trying to stay submerged and out of the heat as much as possible. I was resting for bit after a few laps, leaning against the side with my elbows up on the deck. I heard my mother and her friends come home.
My mother was having a good day; she had felt up to hitting a few delis and the local supermarket. I heard her call out, “Give me a minute, you two, I’ll see y’all on the deck.”
I basked in the sun for a few moments and then I heard the patio door slide open. I glanced over and did a classic double take. Sonya was stepping out onto the back deck wearing the smallest string bikini I had ever seen in my life. It was neon yellow and it stretched and strained against her bowling-ball breasts and double-bass hips. It looked like it might snap in several places any second. A pair of raised-heel sandals completed her outfit and she waved to me as she took a sip of her extra-large salt-rimmed margarita.
“Hey there Worthy,” she called out. “How’s the water?”
“It’s…fine,” I choked.
She had an inswept waist that took my breath away. Her ovular navel hypnotized me. I remembered my promise not to act like a hormone-crazed teenager and wrenched my eyes up to hers. She had a wry smile on her glamorous face. She knew the effect she was having on me. She was sympathetic, but I could also tell she was enjoying herself. I smiled back, probably with way too much enthusiasm.
“You look great, Sonya!”
“Why thank you.” She did a little spin, and I almost gasped out loud. Her bikini bottoms were thong-backed. A tiny little lemon triangle sat at the top of her crack and concealed absolutely nothing of the full, balloon-tight cheeks below. They brought a lump to my throat and my bathing suit.
“Glad you like it,” she said.
Gretchen followed her out, and this time I couldn’t conceal the gasp. Her boobs were as big, her hips as wide and her tummy just as sleek as her partner’s. Her bikini was even more brief. The top was a pair of bright orange triangles that didn’t even cover the under-curve of her breasts. They barely covered her areolas. And the bottoms rode so low that they clearly showed she shaved her privates bare.
What pulled the gasp out of me was the long tubular extension made into the crotch piece. It was clearly designed as a sheath for her penis, with an under-pouch for her testicles. This ‘penis cozy’ hung two-thirds of the way down to Gretchen’s knees and there was no slack in it at all. It was stuffed full, the fabric stretched tight.
Gretchen’s dong was massive.
The sleeve was the same neon-orange as the rest of her bikini, and it strained just as hard to contain her. I could see the exact shape of her glans through the fabric, including the ridge of her foreskin. Her penis was thick too, the codpiece made no secret of it; she was thicker than me at full mast on my best day. It had clearly been tailored to fit her with some staggeringly exact and specific measurements. In a surreal bit of whimsy, the sleeve even sported a stringy fringe like a cowboy’s chaps.
Kinda makes sense, a dry corner of my liquifying brain noted. She’s a Texas dickgirl after all.
My reaction to her was an absolute mess of envy, fascination, disbelief and arousal. Sonya had already given me an erection. Gretchen just about made my Speedos rip asunder. She walked with a naturally sexy hip-sway that swung that bikini-encased salami back and forth like a wrecking ball on its tether.
“Bet you’ve never seen a bikini like this before, huh Worthy?” said Gretchen cheerfully. She did a little hip-shimmy and her penis spun in a circle. The fringe flew. My eyes just about popped out.
“Nope,” I said with a rictus grin.
I remembered I had a hard-on in a swimsuit. I leapt off the wall and splashed to the deep end. I trod water vigorously to churn up the view of my lower half.
“Water’s great today,” I babbled.
Sonya dove in. When she came up, her wet bikini top clung so closely to her breasts that I could see not only her nipples (which were erect from the water) but also the raised circles of her areolas and their little bumps.
For a second there, I honestly thought I was going to shoot off in my swimsuit. Despite my best intentions not to get all google-eyed, I was doing just that, and swiveling my head back and forth between Gretchen and Sonya. Sonya was smiling at me. Fortunately, it was a kind and reassuring smile.
“Relax, Worthy,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to take in. We’re all friends here. No one’s going to judge you as long as you keep your hands to yourself. If you want to look, look. Just keep it cool when your mother comes out.”
“Okay,” esenler escort I said hoarsely.
Gretchen proceeded to lay out on one of our poolside chaise-lounges and slather her already-golden skin with suntan oil. This did absolutely nothing to make my erection go away.
A few minutes later Mom came out in one of her ultra-modest one-piece swimsuits and a wide-brimmed straw sun hat. My mother was a tiny woman with a compromised immune system and a whole laundry list of other conditions. She had an oxygen tank by her bedside and cupboards filled with prescription bottles. Before Gretchen and Sonya entered our lives, she barely got out of her bedroom most days, never mind the house.
Seeing her take the chaise next to Gretchen in her big black Jackie-O sunglasses gave me a surge of happiness that confused the hell out of my hard-on.
Gretchen passed her the tanning oil and my mother applied it to her pale and slender arms and legs. I tried to focus on swimming laps and not stare at Sonya floating tits-up in the deep end.
“I trust Barnesworth hasn’t been getting underfoot?” Mom asked.
“You don’t give him enough credit, Grace,” Gretchen chided her gently. “He’s a perfect gentleman.”
“Gentleman, hmmph. You should see some of those nasty videos he watches. They’re so graphic.” She gave a genteel shudder.
“Mom!” I yelled, aghast. “I’m right here!”
She and her friends giggled at my discomfiture.
“So Worthy, did you see Gretchen’s super suit?” Mom asked, and they all giggled again.
I was torn. On one hand, I liked that Mom was feeling up to teasing me. On the other hand, my mother making coy allusions to Gretchen’s bikini-wrapped monster cock made me supremely uncomfortable.
“No, Mom,” I answered tartly. “I hadn’t noticed. I am legally blind.”
They burst out giggling again.
“There’s a place in California that makes them,” explained Gretchen after the giggles dissipated. “They have an online store.” She waggled her dick again, looking down critically.
“They got the length just right this time,” she said. “But I think they were a little off on the width. It feels kinda tight.”
I did my best not to gape like an idiot. I succeeded, but just barely.
“I just adore that little fringe,” my mother declared. “All it needs is a cowboy hat.” More giggles.
“More like a ten-gallon Stetson,” I muttered.
They heard me, of course. My mother spluttered, “Barnesworth!” as the other two laughed out loud.
Gretchen rolled over. The view of her glorious butt cheeks made me wince. My penis throbbed every bit as angrily as Al Pacino’s performance in And Justice for All.
You’re out of order! This whole trial is out of order…
“Grace, would you do my back?”
“Sure, honey bunch.” Mom began squirting the sunscreen onto Gretchen’s back and rubbing it in. Gretchen reached back and undid her top. As the strings fell to each side, they bared the less-tan flanks of her great pillowy boobs bulging out to the sides. I almost choked on my tongue.
I felt envious of my mother as I watched her hands glide around Gretchen’s glistening, tawny back. From the look of her, Mom was enjoying herself. Her eyes glowed as they feasted upon Gretchen’s almost-nude body. She bit her lip. From the way her fingers spread as they scooped into the small of Gretchen’s back, I could tell she really wanted to touch her butt. I couldn’t blame her. It was weird to be co-ogling Gretchen with my mother. I didn’t know how to feel about that.
My hard-on, of course, was entirely unconflicted. Its feelings were crystal clear: it wanted to see more.
“Shall I take my bottoms off, Grace?” Gretchen asked. “After all, we don’t want any tan lines, do we?” She hooked her thumbs into her bottoms and began teasingly pulling the waist-string this way and that.
To my shock, my mother slapped Gretchen’s ass. Gretchen squealed.
Mom pronounced, “There’s not enough bikini there to leave any tan lines, missy,” and swung her legs back onto her chaise and lay back. She was smiling and blushing and trying to conceal both with her hands. Sonya hooted and clapped.
As for me, I just stood there stunned. I couldn’t believe my mom had just fetched that sexy lady a swat on the tush. Mom was not one for hugs and pats and other familiar touches, even with me. I had to re-evaluate the extent to which our friends had drawn her out.
Sanity prevailed for a while. Mom and Gretchen dozed in the sun while Sonya and I swam laps.
Then Sonya and Gretchen traded places. Sonya lay on her back and slathered on the sunscreen while Mom pretended not to watch through her sunglasses. Gretchen gingerly slid into the pool and settled into an easy rhythm of front and back crawls alongside me.
Her penis drifted like an errant styrofoam floatation noodle. Her wet bikini became even more clingy than Sonya’s. Blood resurged into my dick just as it started to relax.
I behaved, and didn’t try to cop any feels. I couldn’t say the same about my mom. When Sonya rolled onto her belly, Mom promptly reached over and undid her top for her. Without any prompting, she shifted out of her chaise, knelt beside Sonya and began to smear lotion onto her bare back.