Hey, Peaches free porn video

HEY, PEACHES by Throne "Hey, Peanut!" How I dreaded to hear my wife's boyfriend, Frank, call me. He's big and rough and loves to see me feminized and cuckolded. My wife Tyra takes care of the former and he's always grabbing and pawing her, which leads to lots of the latter. In the year since they met my life has changed drastically and it doesn't look like anything can reverse that. When he hollers I'm quick to respond. I set aside his work boots, which I had been cleaning, and paused for only a moment to tug down the pale apricot, shortie camisol I was wearing and pull up the matching panties that sat so low on my hips. The cammie would just ride up again, leaving my midsection bare and the panties, well, they were so brief in the crotch and had only a thong in the back, so no matter what I did with them I was well exposed. I hesitated at the bedroom dresser's mirror to make sure my wig was on straight. It was short, pixie-cut, blond with blue highlights. As I patted down some stray hairs I simultaneously examined my make-up. My eyelids were tinted deep pink, cheekbones emphasized with shading, and lips outlined and colored bright red to make them appear puckered. I rushed to the kitchen where he was sitting at the table in boxer shorts and sleeveless T-shirt, with a can of beer in front of him. There was a sandwich that he hadn't even bothered to put onto a plate. I stood there, mute and passive, hoping that he wouldn't make any demands on me or, worse, inflict some sort of punishment. Frank grinned at me and I sensed immediatly that he wanted to conduct one of his humiliation sessions. He said, "So, let's have a peek at that little peanut you've got in place of a cock. Go on. Get those panties down to half mast." My cheeks grew warm and I knew I was blushing noticably. I put my fingers under the waistband of the inadequate panties and began to lower them, hating that he was going to see my hairless crotch. In fact, I was already upset that he was seeing my hairless everything else. Tyra insists that I can't have any hair on my body below my eyebrows, and even those are slightly thinned and shaped to add to my girlish appearance. When I go to work at my menial office job they draw a few curious looks, just enough to make people suspicious about my sexual orientation. I'm straight, but being short and slightly built, and meek by nature, I don't need anything else that hints I might be a sissy. I'm NOT a sissy. "Speed it up, sissy," Frank barked at me. Down came the panties to mid-thigh and, along with my smooth skin he could see my penis, which is tragically small. I hate to admit it but calling it a 'peanut' isn't much of an exaggeration. The same goes for calling me by that insulting name. He laughed at how I was demeaning myself and then told me to bare my chest and play with my nipples. That almost drove me to tears, which I knew would only amuse him even more. Barely keeping my emotions under control, I did as I was told, beginning to toy with those super-sensitive spots and feeling a current of sexual stimulation race from them to my tiny dick. I started to get hard and Frank laughed. "Damn," he said wonderingly. "I can never get over how your peanut isn't just so small, but when you play with yourself that way it hardly gets any bigger." He took a swallow of his beer and thumped the can back down. "Now wet your fingers and play with those nippies real good." After a minute of that, which had me moaning from need, he decided that I should stroke myself, too. "But just use your thumb and one finger, peanut-dick. I don't want you trying to fool yourself into believing there's anything more than that baby nubbin down there." He kept me wanking, making me use my other hand to continue the nipple play. I was mewling and involuntarily jerking my hips when Tyra strolled into the room in a cammie like mine and NO panties. Seeing her was wildly arousing. Being seen by her was deeply shameful. She went to Frank, leaned down, and nuzzled his neck. He groped one of her round bare ass cheeks and pulled her closer so he could kiss the side of a plump breast through the thin material of her top. My wife told her lover, "You were fantastic last night, baby. As usual." "Yeah," he agreed immodestly. "You were howling like an alley cat in heat." She giggled girlishly, as if he had said something cute and flattering, rather than crude and sexist. Tyra rubbed up against him, reinforcing the cat-in-heat comparison. My jealousy rose and threatened to make me break down and beg him to stop. He would have been thrilled if that happened. Instead, he pushed her away and went back to his beer and sandwich. She came over to me, which I knew meant trouble. Frank really enjoys seeing her mistreat me. It gets him primed for more sex. And Tyra always wants more sex. So she's quick to do whatever she can to make me suffer. "All right, Peanut," she said with a sneer in her voice. "When Frank and me were in bed last night and I had you out in the hall on your knees, I heard you whimpering. Were you trying to ruin our romantic mood?" Romantic? She had been rhapsodizing about his cock, saying what she was going to do to it with her eager mouth, and then demonstrating how expertly she could back up those promises. I think my whimpering had started when she began licking his heavy balls and, between actions of her tongue, telling him how much bigger they are then mine. Just the memory of it made me want to break down all over again. "N... no, dear," I said in a fragile lightweight voice. "I didn't mean to. I'll be more careful next t... time." "That's not good enough. You keep imagining that you still have some kind of rights around here. That you're at least partly a man. And that's not true. Is it?" "I... I didn't... I'm not..." I was on the verge of getting myself into more trouble. Even so, it's never easy for me to agree with her low opinion of me, or to confess how thoroughly I've been emasculated. I finished with an apologetic, "I'm sorry. I know I don't have any rights. And that I'm not a man any more. I'm just a s... sis... sissy." That word is still hard for me to get out. "Then you had better show me how much of a sissy you are. Show me and show Frank. You could start by..." Tyra put the tip of her forefinger to her softly rounded chin. "... by striking some sexy poses. Not just sexy but... dirty. You want to be a dirty girl, don't you, Peanut?" Almost choking on my words I lied, "Yes, darling. I want to be a dirty girl. A very dirty sissy girl." Maybe that would appease her. Or at least be a start. But I couldn't fail to do what she really wanted. I turned my back, leaned forward to grip the edge of the kitchen counter, stuck out my still uncovered butt, silky smooth from the lotion she made me use on it daily, and wagged it invitingly. I looked back over my shoulder and purred, "Aren't I naughty? Do you..." Here came something else I definately didn't want to say. "... think I need a spanking?" Hoping that she wouldn't agree if I moved on to some other self-insult, I turned back to her and grabbed my penis, which hadn't shrunk all the way back to its flaccid rosebud dimensions. I gave it a squeeze, rubbed the palm of my free hand over my nipples in a figure-eight pattern, and licked my lips in a way that I hoped would be lascivious. Trying to sound seductive, I said, hating every word, "You know I'm a filthy girl. I would do anything you wanted." Thinking only of convincing her that I was totally submissive, I repeated, "Anything." "Oh? So you're telling me you would do any nasty act for me?" She paused for effect. I sensed that something was wrong. Tyra loved to be unfair in these situations. To intentionally misread what I said. To make unreasonable demands. What was she about to say? Hesitantly, I nodded and assured her, "Anything for you." Her critical expression melted away to be replaced by one of smug triumph. She said, "Anything for me. But NOT for Frank? Do you think that's right, sissy Peanut? How do you think that makes my lover feel?' Oh no. No, no, no. That wasn't at all what I had meant. It was bad enough to have to disgrace myself with what I said, to touch myself improperly. But now, this was awful. My mouth opened and close but I couldn't find any words. Anything I said would simply make my problem worse. What could I do? With my lips quivering, I sank to my knees, put my hands on the floor, and moved towards Frank, who gazed down at me with open contempt. When I was directly in front of him, I bowed my head and brought my lips to within an inch of his bare foot. "I'm sorry, Sir," I whispered. "So sorry. Should I kiss your foot?" He snorted derisively. "Sure, wimp. Kiss my foot. Sorry I didn't get a shower last night, but I was busy humping your wife. She likes me sweaty. And then you can suck my big toe, though I'm sure there's something ELSE you'd like to get your sissy mouth on. Isn't that right, Peanut?" "Y... yes, Sir. There's (choke) something else I'd rather be s... sucking." I kissed the top of his unwashed foot. "Something I'd really like to (gag) get my lips around." I gave his foot several more kisses and then took his first toe into my mouth, fellating it with feigned gusto and appropriate vocal sounds. He chortled at my debasement. "Maybe I'll let you do that sometime, sissy." My wife offered, "You know, I had a funny idea about something we could make Peanut do. I'll tell you later, while she's polishing my new boots you got me with Peanut's charge card." Noooo. I was never good for me when Tyra had one of her 'funny' ideas. It was always something that entertained her, turned on Frank, and utterly humiliated me. At the same time, those all ended up with the two of them in bed, usually with me kneeling in the hall, or maybe crouching in the closet, having to listen to their bedroom romping. Her ideas had been growing progressively meaner and now I would have to worry about what this latest one would entail. Wait and worry until she sprung the trap. ********* It was the next weekend when she had everything set up, whatever it was going to be. Tyra announced that I had to be dressed 'extra pretty'. She took me by the ear, gave it twist, and marched me to the bedroom. Frank was under the sheet, having just taken a nap after one of their bouts of furious sex. My wife went to the dresser, picked up some items she had already set out, and handed them to me. Tyra said, "You can get dressed while we watch. Put on a fashion show for us. And make it slutty." She got into bed with Frank and they exchanged a hot wet kiss while I stood there like a statue. They noticed that I wasn't moving and both of them gave me critical looks. I shook off my upset and concern and checked to see what I would be wearing. Unhappily, the first article of clothing was a pair of panty hose -- which were fishnet -- and had no bottom -- and lacked a crotch. As I worked them carefully up my sleek legs I was humiliated by how they left me uncovered where it counted, while additionally drawing attention to those areas. Next was a top, of an even finger mesh, which had very short sleeves and ended right under my nipples. I was more undressed than dressed. "Hey, Peanut," Frank complained. "Where's that fashion show you promised us?" "Yeah," seconded Tyra. "Let's see some runway action. Strike a pose." My knees trembled but I still managed to take a few steps, stick out my bottom, grind my undersized dick against thin air, touch my nipples (but not enough to get me excited), and flick my tongue at them. They had a good laugh and then shared another deep probing kiss, while I stood there feeling utterly foolish. My wife told me to open a shoebox that was on the dresser and in it I found a pair of sexy red pumps with heels that were, I was relieved to see, only an inch high. But my relief was short lived as I slipped them on. First, they were at least one size too small and squeezed my feet. Second, I had to wonder why she didn't want me hampered by more challenging footwear. What was planned? Frank spent some pleasurable (for him but not for me) minutes exploring my wife's body with his big hands. She reciprocated by throwing back the sheet so she could get her mouth on his large cock and bring it immediately to a full impressive erection. I gaped at it enviously, my own tiny endowment pulsing slightly, not -- I told myself -- because of what I was looking at, but because it was so rare for me to be allowed any sort of sexual relief. And when I was, it always had to be under some embarrassing circumstance, like having to hump my pillow... and then sleep on it. Tyra played with Frank's superior manhood while I stood there for a quarter hour wallowing in self-pity. They got out of bed and dressed quickly, in casual clothes, although my bride managed to pick items that showed off her figure and were a bit trashy. Frank got back into what he had been wearing before they hit the sheets. He looked at his watch and nodded, saying, "Our guests should be here real soon." To me he said, "I hope you put plenty of beer in the fridge, Peanut." As I nodded to him my wife said, "You know, while our visitors are here, we should call my wimpy husband something else. More girly. How about... Peaches?" He snickered and said that would be fine. Then he clamped a hand on the back of my neck and applied vicelike force. "Let's go, little queeny. I mean Peaches. We want to be near the front door to greet your new friends." He marched me to the living room and peered out around the edge of the curtain. I was liking this less and less. Frank let me go and flopped onto the sofa. He snapped at me to wait by the door. When the bell rang my heart felt like it missed a beat. Or maybe two. In a calm easygoing voice, as if nothing odd or disturbing was happening, Tyra told me to see who it was. I nervously opened the door and was confronted by a young good-looking couple, not unlike my bride and her boyfriend. As they swept past me I got a jolt. Behind them there was a small unhappy guy, quite a lot like me. He had on a very short dress that flared out at the bottom and left his legs entirely bare. It was accompanied by knee socks and saddle shoes. He wore a golden-blond wig with long pigtails on the sides, each tied at the bottom with a large floppy bow. His wig was quite a contrast to my short red one, with its hair up in spikes. He had cosmetics on his face, but they were more conservative than mine, too. He looked kind of like a schoolgirl with no one to tell her that her outfit was too revealing. Looking absolutely shame-faced, he did a deep curtsey and, to my shock, raised his skirt high enough to reveal that he wore nothing under it. And his penis was as undersized as my own. We stood there, him with his dick still on display, me with mine never covered in the first place. Belatedly, he entered, throwing a concerned glance back over his shoulder, I suppose to see if anyone had witnessed his unmanly appearance and performance. My wife greeted the new couple as Tony and Barb. Frank offered the guy a beer, which I was sent to fetch. As I left I heard my wife's lover say he wanted one, too, and tell the other sissy to get it. Tony amplified the command, using the name Creamy, and calling him a pansy husband. As we reached the kitchen and I opened the fridge, our eyes met, and we clearly both knew that we were in the same fix. Cuckolded husbands who had been turned into sissy weaklings. Well, we had always been weaklings, and cursed with tiny dicks. But this made it all worse, being shown off to strangers and experiencing each other's shame. When we returned with the beers the guys were on the sofa talking about sports. The wives were on the short couch opposite them, gabbing about different ways they sissified their husbands. Us. Peaches and Creamy. I cringed inwardly at the added insult of those names, taken together. It looked like it was going to be a long, long evening, with us waiting on them hand and foot. But would there be more? Please, no, I hoped silently. But I wasn't that lucky. Not me or my new sister-in-shame. After Tyra went and got two glasses of red wine for herself and Barb, and they were seated once more, Barb gave myself and her loser-husband a smirking smile. She said, "You pair are really two of a kind. I'll bet you'd like to get acquainted. Get to know each other a LOT better. Hmmm?" I said in a small choked voice, afraid to disagree and risk upsetting her, "Yes. Yes, Ma'am." "Wellll," she considered out loud, "we don't want to push you into anything you don't really want to do. Maybe you could just give each other a hug. That wouldn't be too much, would it?" she asked reasonably. We shook our heads, agreeing that it wouldn't. Creamy and I turned to face each other and slowly brought up our arms. I knew from his conflicted expression that he considered himself straight, the same as I did, and had no desire to touch another man in any way beyond shaking his hand and perhaps slapping him on the back, although if he was like me a backslap was probably more then he was accustomed to delivering. Our arms moved awkwardly as we put them around each other. The embrace was half-hearted at first, but then Tony made a disgusted sound and said that if we didn't put some effort into it, maybe him and Frank should put us over their laps for a long, hard old-fashioned spanking. We both flinched at the suggestion and started holding each other tightly. My chin was on Creamy's shoulder and his was on mine. I could feel him shuddering. Barb got up and took something from her bulky handbag. She came over and told us to 'break that clinch'. When we stepped apart she reached down and I saw the oversized bobby pin in her hand, like one you might use to fasten a diaper. She lifted the hem of Creamy's brief skirt in front and attached it to the waist of his dress, so it would stay there and leave his genitals uncovered. "Now," she said with obvious relish, "let's see that hug again. It'll be so much better if you can, you know, put your heads together." The others chuckled at her wordplay, knowing that she meant we would be pressing the heads of our dicks against each other. When we uncomfortably hugged once more, sure enough our male parts made contact. Tyra said we shouldn't be so shy and ought to rub up against each other. Blinking back tears of humiliation, that's what I did, and my unwanted partner did the same. I felt his immature penis against mine and, to my horror, realized that he was getting stiff. And so was I!!! Barb made us perform some slow dance steps and grind ourselves together more firmly. To my mortification, I had a complete hard-on. Granted, it wasn't very big, but that was no consolation as Frank made us part and our arousal was exposed. "Haw!" Tony hooted. "I told you, Barb. Your reject of a husband is a faggot." "Yeah," Frank echoed. "I've been thinking the same about Peaches there. Let's see them do some swordfighting." What? The guys saw our incomprehension and explained that they wanted us to get close together and 'duel' with our hard little dicks. It was impossibly demeaning, to be dressed and exposed the way we were, wearing make-up and wigs, intimidated by two real men into not daring to object. Yet without further urging we moved closer and started to swing our hips side-to-side, our miniature erections wagging before us. The room was filled with laughter, from everyone but us, as we had to execute faux duelling moves, bump our penises against each other, wave our hands in the air and prance around, while being called fairies and princesses. Barb made us turn back-to-back and knock our bottoms against each other, then rub them sensually together. I tried to wish away my erection but it refused to go limp. Frank said, "You two queer ducks are getting to know each other so well, so quickly, that it's obvious you want it. So how about if you give each other a sweet kiss? Right?" I felt dizzy. I wanted to start crying, run away, go to bed and hide under the covers. If I did, they'd probably make Creamy get in bed with me, which I definately didn't want. Was that were this was leading? To some sort of intimate conclusion? I started to sway dizzily and grabbed hold of my equally unwilling partner. But he must have misinterpreted my action and thought I was going to kiss him. Probably as disoriented as I was, he moved first and pressed his mouth against mine. I clung to him. Without thinking I resumed mashing my crotch against his. He countered by shoving his tongue forcefully past my lips and teeth. Suddenly we were sharing a sloppy probing kiss. What was happening? I only wanted to stop and insist to everyone -- especially to Creamy -- that I was straight. "Go on," Barb urged. "Feel each other's asses." "Do it!" Tyra snarled. "And grab those little hard-ons. Give them a tug." Not knowing how to stop, Creamy and I got our hands busy. His backside was so soft. He held my penis so firmly yet gently. I cupped his tiny balls in my palm and massaged them, telling myself that all of this was to keep the two avidly watching couples satisfied, to avoid earning ourselves a double-spanking, or who knew what other discipline. The two of us were spiraling out of control, nearly assaulting each other, our physical passion rising as quickly as our thinking descended. Frank shouted at the top of his voice, "BREAK TIME! Go to your respective corners, sissies." Creamy and I stumbled backwards, stunned, staring at one another. I threw an arm across my chest as if I had breasts to conceal, and clapped a hand over my upright prick. He shoved his own offending organ back between his legs and held it there with clenched together thighs. We were panting. The onlookers waited expectantly. I broke down sniffling. The other helpless husband gasped repeatedly, unable to catch his breath. "Sit on the floor, you queers," Barb told us. "Side by side." "That's the way," Tyra added as we got down. "And hold hands." The mood relaxed, with the two couples making jokes about what we cuckolds had done, and how fervently we had done it, how naturally. I couldn't bring myself to even glance at Creamy. I heard him sob softly. The four lovers chatted about TV shows they liked, with the guys getting into a one-no-one about sports programs and the gals bringing up fashion shows and the possible tips they might get from them for dressing us. "I'll tell you where else I look for ideas," offered Tyra. "It's an on- line site called Story Mania or something like that. There're some stories about sissies like ours having to do stuff with each other, like what we've been making these two pansies do, but then they go further. Sometimes this one writer calls them 'sissy sisters' and he has their cheating wives --" She looked significantly at Barb. " -- and the wives' boyfriends --" She grinned at Frank and Tony. " -- tell them they have to get really down and dirty with each other." "Ohhh," Barb reacted. "That would be soooo much fun." The guys looked at each other questioningly. Tyra noticed and said, "And it would get us girls soooo wet." That made Frank and Tony sit up and nod. "Sure," said Frank. "Let's have the sissies go further with their performance." He had that look which said he wanted to see me shame myself, and that it would turn him on. "Let's," echoed Tony. "Make them go lots further." He appeared as enthused as Frank. My head was spinning. It had to be just an idle threat. Sure, that was it. The gals were getting off on seeing how upset they could get us. Yet none of them was treating it like it was just a ploy. I peeked over at Creamy and he looked as concerned as I felt. My deepest fears were realized as Tyra said, "I want to see our sissy sisters kiss each other on the... thighs." "Yeah," Barb seconded with glee. "And they should stretch out, facing each other's feet." The two of us on the floor got into position unhappily. Creamy's thighs were bare and satiny smooth. I pressed my brightly colored lips to one of them and he moaned softly. He kissed me through those almost-not- there fishnets and I couldn't keep from inhaling sharply. This was NOT going well. In fact, my penis was twitching ever so slightly. I dared to look at his and saw that it had begun to grow, at least within its limited abilities. Not going well at all. Frank and Tony got into it, telling us to slowly work our way higher. I skirted Creamy's crotch and found myself kissing a tight circle around his belly button. At the same time he was licking his way over my lower ribs. The guys had us move further up, so that we could use our mouths on each other's nipples. Creamy was obviously as receptive there as I was and in seconds we each had a raging -- though small -- hard-on. That produced fresh laughter from our audience of four. They kept us at our foreplay a while longer, letting us worry about what appeared to be the inevitable conclusion. Sure enough, after several additonal minutes of us unhurriedly moving crotchward once more, the dreaded command was delivered. It was Frank who said, obviously delighted to drag the two of us through the depths of humiliation, "Alright, sissies. We all know what you really want to do. So we're going to let you. I want to see those pretty lips pucker up and kiss some dick. Let's go, girls." No, no, no. I did NOT want to do that. But what could I say? Frank was so big and strong and commanding. Reluctantly, I pursed my mouth and gave Creamy's penis a light kiss. At the same moment I felt him doing it to my dick. He groaned. I groaned. The onlookers hooted. They kept us at it, making sure we smooched balls and kissed our way up and down each other's shaft, also placing our lips on the heads and tips of the proffered penises. As I kissed the end of Creamy's penis I got some clear pre-cum on my mouth. It went on and on, with everyone giving us orders. "Kiss longer." "Get your mouth behind Creamy's balls." "Lick Peaches' belly button." "Kiss the insides of each other's thighs while you're whispering words of love." Were they going to make us 'go all the way'? Would we have to go beyond kissing to sucking? I didn't want it to happen but, at the same time, I was growing increasingly desperate for release. It would almost be worth the shame of becoming a cocksucker... and cocksuckee... just to empty my small but very full balls. They were sooooo sore. But eventually, to my simultaneous relief and frustration, we weren't made to finish each other. And there was a reason for that. "Can you believe it?" Frank marvelled. "We gave our horny sissies a chance to get their rocks off... or maybe I should say get their pebbles off... and they didn't do it. The only explanation I can think of is that they're just being defiant." "Yeah," agreed Tony. "They're a couple of stubborn difficult girls. Spoiling their own fun just to get at us. What should we do to punish them?" Almost as one the wives answered, "SPANK THEM!" It was all so unreasonable. The guys grabbed us and yanked us to our feet. They made us go and get two wooden chairs from the kitchen and put them in the middle of the room. Frank and Tony sat down and gestured for us to get iln front of them. Shivering at what was to come, we moved closer, were grabbed, and had ourselves draped over their laps. Frank put one of his big hands on the small of my back. I was shamefully aware of how my fishnets failed to cover my bottom cheeks. Creamy and I were facing each other so we could each witness our fellow sissy's suffering. Tony lifted the back of Creamy's skirt and tucked it under his top. "Hold on," said Barb, taking out her cell phone. "I have GOT to get a few pictures. Wish I'd thought of this earlier." "Me too," enthused Tyra. "I'll be careful not to show any faces... except for the sissies'." They each took a few shots and both mentioned sharing them, maybe even posting on some kinky adult sites. I had an awful premonition of the revealing images going viral. Frank raised his hand and I involuntarily tensed. The same was happening with Tony and Creamy. One of the wives - - I was too shaken up to be sure which -- counted down from ten and the guys swung at the same time, landing their wide open hands on our backsides simultaneously, eliciting loud yelps from us. Our spankings were hard and fast, blow after blow landing on our upturned sitters, making us kick our feet and grip the legs of the chairs. We wailed and wept and begged but it didn't stop. I foolishly looked to Tyra for help and saw her leaning forward, a devilish grin on her pretty face. And I kept meeting eyes with Creamy, seeing the tears streaming down his cheeks and how his eye make-up was running. His wife had probably gotten him some cheap brand, maybe at a dollar store, to make sure that would happen. We were both reduced to blubbering begging sissies. My nose was running. I had trouble catching my breath. Then, all at once, it was over. Frank and Tony slid us off their laps and let us sink down onto our knees. They stood up and shared a congratulatory handshake. The gals made fun of our lack of fortitude. Creamy and I got unsteadily to our feet. We were told to go and stand in the corner and think about how naughty we had been. When we tried to walk to two different corners one of them told us that we had to share the same spot. So that's how we wound up, crammed together into one space, our faces competing to occupy the juncture of two walls, my right ear against his left, our well spanked posteriors on display. I had gotten a glance at Creamy's punished rump when we rose, and it was bright red. I was certain mine was similarly colored. While our spouses and their lovers drank, chatted, kissed, and began talking about sex, we had to remain in that demeaning position. Finally we were allowed to move, but it was only so that further humiliation could be heaped on us. We each had to lower the pants of our wife's lover while thanking them for the spankings. Then we were made to kneel close by while our brides got down between their legs. The women began to play with the men's cocks. "Now pay attention," Tyra told me. "I'm sure a sissy like you wants to pick up tips on how to handle a real man's meat. In fact, I'll bet your jealous that I've got this big tubesteak all to myself. Aren't you?" I had to answer. My voice was wispy and muted, "Yes, dear. It... it's a lovely cock." She chortled, "Sure is," and put her mouth over the fat head. Barb said to Creamy, "Pay attention, you fairy. See how I'm handling these big balls? Hmmm? And stroking this thick shaft with my other hand? You have to learn to do two things at once when you're taking care of a handsome three-piece-set like this one. And to use your mouth at the same time." She bobbed her head down and flicked her tongue over the tip of his member, then asked Creamy, "Don't you wish it was you having all this fun?" He answered sheepishly, "Yes, dear. I wish it was me enjoying that big..." (gag) "... prick." "I'm sure you do. But for right now just watch and learn. And remember that if you had a full-sized cock instead of that tiny joke between your legs, and if you weren't a sissy trying to pass for a man, I might be doing this to you." She engulfed Tony's rod all the way down to its base, happily deep throating him. My wife was more conservative, licking up and down, sucking the head, and placing butterfly kisses all along the underside. But soon she was taking in the entire length as well. We had to watch our brides eagerly acting like a couple of sluts as they pleased the virile men who they found so attractive. We two sissies could only stay where we were, endlessly upset by the close-up view of their infidelity. At last the guys could hold back no longer and blasted their loads into the gals' mouths. Both women made sure they had only the heads past their lips, while they hand-pumped the shafts, so that the full load of sperm stayed in their mouths. As soon as they were done they pivoted toward we husbands, locked lips with us, and delivered deep kisses, using their tongues to make sure most of the spunk ended up in our mouths. I moaned and wanted to pull away, but the threat of Frank's anger stopped me. If he gave my rump even one more swat I didn't know what I would do, though collapsing into a ball, with my legs drawn up and my arms hugging my torso was a likely consequence. After Creamy and I had been given our feedings of jism, we were told to be nice and share it... with each other. Still on our knees, we had to kiss, holding each others' heads, and stay that way until our watchers stopped howling with laughter and allowed us to seperate. But our ordeal still wasn't over. Tyra decided, "We should do something nice for you two wimps. Peachy, go into the bathroom and get the big jar of lotion that's on the shelf." I did and, when I returned, she wanted to know if I'd like to have the soothing product spread all over my blazing ass cheeks. I said I would, with mental images of her gently applying it. Creamy was asked his spouse and gave the same answer. My wife said, "Terrific. You can put lotion on each other's rear ends. Let's go." Upset by this new indignity, but with no hope of reversing the decision, I opened the jar and held it out to Creamy. He took a big dollop on three fingers and I did the same. As I set the jar aside he began spreading the cool substance over my sore skin. Though it was a bit awkward to both reach around at the same time, I started doing the same for him. We couldn't avoid having our bodies against each other but at least, to my relief, neither of us got hard again. Our wives made sure we did a thorough job, especially getting lots of lotion between our buttocks. At that point, though I still didn't get an erection, I did feel plenty of unwanted tingling in my penis. Again I reminded myself that it had been a while since I was permitted to ejaculate, and that my enforced abstinence must be the cause of any physical reaction I was having. "All right," Tyra announced. "It's bedtime for you sissy sisters. I have something sweet picked out for you to wear. And I'm sure our visiting pansy won't mind sharing Peachy's bed." To Creamy she expained, "Our sissy gets the guest room all to herself sometimes, when Frank and I are spending the night in the Master bedroom. And when Frank is there, it really is the MASTER bedroom." She gave her lover and suggestive look, which he answered with a sly grin. So the wives walked us to my room, which had been done over in pink and white, and supplied with a small four-poster bed in the same colors, along with ruffled pillows and strongly scented sachets. What she had picked for us to put on was a pair of baby doll nighties, filmy nothings that were see-through, pale apricot, and lacked matching panties, or for that matter, any panties. We got out of what we had been wearing and they had us slip the nighties onto each other and then share a lingering hug. Again I felt that unwanted tingling. "Now you girls squeeze into bed together," my wife advised. "I'm sure you won't mind that the mattress is so narrow. It'll give you an excuse to be nice and close to each other. And you can share that one big fluffy pillow." We obeyed wordlessly. I had to move two of the perfumey sachets toward our feet to get them out of the way, but there were two more under the oversized pillow. Creamy really was close to me, so near that we couldn't entirely avoid touching each other. Barb told us, "Don't be shy, girls. Snuggle up with each other. Go on. That's the way." She snickered at our unwanted intimacy. "And stay like that. I'll be checking on you later. You know, after Tyra and I have been properly taken care of by our men. They can cum more than once a night, unlike sissies, who are only good for one shot and always finish too soon." "And as a bonus," my wife added, "you can do anything you want together. And I do mean ANYthing. I'm not saying you have to. But after tonight it might be a long time before either of you is allowed to empty his itty-bitty balls. So, if you don't want to be sore down there, aching all the time, even walking funny because they hurt so much, you might want to think about getting each other off. No solo stuff. It's sissy- on-sissy fun or nothing at all. And if you try to just each wank yourself -- " She switched to a threatening tone. " -- we WILL know and you WILL suffer for it. Understood?" Both of us squeaked, "Yes, Ma'am." "That's our good little sissies. So goodnight and have a good time. But only if you want to. I know Barb and I will be having a fantastic time with our dates." She chuckled at us. "Right?" Again we chimed, "Yes, Ma'am." Tyra switched on a nightlight and turned off the overhead. The wives turned to the door, wagged their asses at us, I suppose as a reminder of what we were not allowed to have, and then were gone. Creamy and I looked at each other in the dimness, as we lay there with our bodies pressed together. His hand moved, found mine, and held it. He said softly, "I know we're both straight. Right?" I agreed. "But we've already gone halfway. Or most of the way. And after what they said about how we're not going to be permitted to finish for a long time after this..." He left the thought hanging. "And how they'll know if we break the rules they gave us," I resonded, my voice girlish like his. "I mean, Tyra can always tell if I cheat on anything she says I have to do." "Barb, too. So maybe, I mean, considering all those things, we could just sort of, start to do something, and then we could always decide to stop. You know, because it's sort of the only choice we have. Unless... unless..." "I know. Unlesss we want to go without for who knows how long. So I guess we could experiment a little and then, naturally, just stop if we wanted to." I squeezed his hand. "Sure," he began to wriggle down the bed and, halfway there, swung around so that he was facing my feet, his head level with my crotch. "Okay?" "I... um... suppose so." Creamy lightly stoked my smooth hairless thighs and, once more, that tingling sensation touched me, except that this time I felt myself growing hard. My balls were still sore from prolonged denial, and the pleasure I was feeling took my mind off my still burning sitter, so I figured I could go just a little further. I ran my fingers along his upper legs, noticing how much they were like a girl's. He got hard too. Our hands explored shyly, and repeatedly brushed against the essentials before retreating. It went on like that for a short while and then, suddenly, as if prompted by some silent signal, each of us clasped his hands on the other's soft bottom, heedless of the thin remaining coat of lotion, or of the pain we might be causing to those spanked areas, and plunged our faces against warm stiffnesses, kissing furiously. Probably both of us were reluctant to actually take a penis between our lips, but that was the only way we were going to achieve the goal we were increasinly desperate to reach. I remembered the loss of control I had experienced earlier and felt myself rushing toward a repetition of it. I sensed from the mounting intensity of his kisses that Creamy was undergoing the same change. Together we opened our mouths and sealed our lips around small dicks, sucking eagerly, digging our fingers into bottoms. His forefinger probed between my buttocks, found the tightness there, and entered. It was like some potent drug had been administered to me. Though lying down I still felt dizzy, and did the same to him. Our inserted forefingers wiggled and pumped. This new drug was instantly addictive. Our mouths didn't slow down at first. But then we eased off, freeing each other's member so we could use our tongues in subtle ways and, despite our belief that we were both straight, perform some of the techniques that our spouses had so recently demonstrated for us on their boyfriends. It went on timelessly, with our bodies squirming against each other, intermittent panting and moaning filling the air, and a few muttered words ("Don't stop." "Slow down." "More of that." "I want to... I don't want to...") as we approached a point of no turning back. In the end we returned to penis gulping, butt grabbing, and supersucking until, only seconds apart, we pumped our stored up reserves, small though they were, into each other's busy mouthes. As soon as our passion had peaked I was overcome by shame at what I had just done, and how spiritedly I had done it. Creamy groaned and the sound told me he felt the same way. He reversed position once more and despite our humiliation, with no one else to comfort us we embraced fervently. Without thinking I pressed my mouth against his and was surprised to find his lips parted and waiting. For the next hour we experienced unfamiliar but not unpleasant feelings, physical and emotional. We couldn't escape our deep shame and yet it also intensified everything else. It all ended with some tender kissing before, once more overcome by unease, we turned back-to-back. As I lay there with sleep slowly overtaking me, I had two thoughts. First, instead of hearing Frank bellow "Hey, Peanut," at me, it would most likely be "Hey, Peaches" from then on. That was somehow an improvement. And second, we had proved our tormentors wrong. Sissies could get aroused and not lose control right way, and they definately could finish twice in one night, as we had just proved. I wondered if we would get the chance again and, if we did, where it would all take us. Slowly I drifted into sleep. ********* (Whew! Talk about a story that gets out of hand and begins to write itself, this was one of those. Hope it pleased the readers who mentioned in their reviews that they'd like to see more about sissies made to get intimate with each other. The theme has plenty of possibilities, doesn't it? Suggestions?)