0 comments/ 76930 views/ 2 favorites Son of the Playhouse By: raself On a damp early Spring afternoon several days after my time up at Melannie’s Playhouse I strolled entranced, the gray light of that cool day glancing starkly off wet pavements. I was no longer sore in every muscle, no longer exhausted. Sounds of workaday traffic whisking by were almost soothing to my ears. I was strangely at peace with the world. There was the oddest spring in my step, and I felt more fit and alive than I had in years. Melannie had brought me to a small efficiency on the second floor of a nondescript building around the corner from Secrets. She said I could remain till I got my strength and wits back, but then I was to return to Secrets. I had slept most of the time, a sleep of extraordinary and highly restorative duration. Although my strength and most of my wits had indeed returned, it was evident I was no longer my own man. I felt deeply changed somehow, and my eagerness to follow Melannie’s order to get back to Secrets as soon as possible was easily obeyed.. I had never been in Secrets this early. There were no customers. Except for the lights behind the bar, the club was dark. Taking a seat midway down the bar, I sat at once poised and relaxed, entirely at home. With nothing more pressing on my agenda, I began a slow inventory of my condition. Although my body no longer seemed my own, I was yet more intimate with it now than I had ever been. I knew so much more where its deepest resonances resided, and I knew so much more about how much it could tolerate. On the wall at Melannie's Playhouse I'd been taught secrets about myself, which I now sat in Secrets pondering. It seemed I must be shining, so glowing did I feel. I knew erotic pain was as stimulating to me as erotic pleasure, and that yes, my appetite for that special kind of pain was thoroughgoing ... and I knew that the peculiar humiliation that was so easily a part of erotic pain also was now as much a pleasure to me as orgasm, and that the combination of pain and humiliation could cause long and complicated transports that turned me delirious with their ongoing complexities ... I knew mere ejaculation was but one of many possible sexual delights available to me now. Idly, I wondered if humiliation itself was the mysterious factor that had me in such a fine state of mind and body, utterly enthralled. My body was more strangely responsive than I had ever imagined, and there were women in this world who were fierce teachers of that very mystery. Secrets was one place where such women came, and the instruction of promising acolytes such as myself was one of their principal activities. The days and nights on the wall up at Melannie's Playhouse were my finishing school, and now I was back in Secrets, ready for what came next. At last a barmaid appeared, an older lady, short and substantial. She reminded me a bit of Aunt Em from up at the Playhouse, although this lady's eyes were much warmer. Nor was her husky body nearly that gross seeming -- she was clearly more at home in her abundant flesh, warmer and more relaxed. I liked her immediately. "You would be, let me see -- Ra's Elf?" She reached across the bar and took my hand. "I'm Doris. Melannie told me you'd be in eventually." Her grip was firm and friendly, like her voice: "What'll it be?" I bent to Doris' hand and kissed it, watching her eyes as I did so. She was amused, but there was no hint of contempt ... "Do you know how I recognized you, Ra's Elf," she asked. "When Melannie said you'd be in eventually, she said I would recognize you because you would look like a man who had come home from far, far away -- and that's exactly what you do look like! Welcome home." "You are so very kind, Doris. Could I have a beer?" "No, you cannot, my friend. I only asked because I'm a creature of habit and I always ask, but I've been told that you must now drink Courvoisier, that you must sip the cognac slowly, and that as long as you sip it slowly, it will be on the house. Melannie wants you to be our Friendly Man, but she insists that Secrets new Friendly Man show class. No more beer for Ra's Elf." Doris grinned at me, then turned to fetch my new drink. When I sipped the cognac its warmth touched me in all my new awareness. Like an intimate caress it radiated within me, complementing my sense of peace while at the same time ever so lightly asking after my zones of arousal. I could feel a tingling tease in my flesh, and the pleasure was most welcome. "That didn't take long," Doris noted, after I had had but a single sip. "I can always tell a new convert ... your eyes are wet, but happy." She went back to wherever she had emerged from, leaving me to my thoughts. I could hear a radio dimly in the back somewhere, tuned to KNOP, the jazz station, and it dawned on me how utterly different Secrets was at this time of day, like a waiting chapel, and I felt very elegant with my cognac, all alone in what I now imagined as the Chapel of Knowing Women. I was their Friendly Man sipping, an instrument for their enjoyment whenever they should choose to appear. The role was absolutely splendid, I decided. When Doris reappeared, she had changed clothes. Although a bulky sort of woman, she certainly knew how to catch a Friendly Man's eye ... I liked the deep cleavage, I particularly liked her fetchingly wide hips, how they filled her snug dark slacks, and when she winked at me I wondered how long it would be before we became better acquainted. "Maybe you'd better go see Melannie now," Doris grinned. "She's in the back ... just follow the sound of the radio, and hey -- take your cognac with you!" Melannie's office entrance might have been in the back, the last door past the restrooms, but the office itself fit in the center of the back of the club. It was a large room, its entire back half separated off by a floor length curtain. Along three of the walls were two-way mirrors, from which Melannie could keep tabs on the stage, the bar proper, and both restrooms. "How's your health, sport?" she asked. Melannie was seated at a desk, wearing a robe. Nothing Melannie did surprised me. Her state of near undress interested me simply because I expected nothing less than that she would appear in whatever fashion she chose, which made me wonder where it all would lead. "I feel especially good today, Melannie. Extraordinarily so, like a new man. And thank you for the cognac ... what a great drink it is!" "Take those clothes off, Friendly Man ... I want to see how all the bruises and lacerations are doing. That was quite an education you got." Standing there naked while Melannie walked around me seemed perfectly correct. I was, it dawned on me then, whatever Melannie decided I was. I would be only too happy to do whatever she demanded. I would stand naked in her office for hours on end, if that was what she required. "It's hard to believe, but not much shows. You took an enormous amount of abuse, and you took it well ... my phone's been ringing off the hook. Yet it appears abuse agrees with you! Who'd of thought? And now everybody wants to know what I'm going to do with you! You're the talk of the town, Ra's Elf, or at least of that part of the town that frequents my Playhouse. All the gals think you're just the kind of loverly slut the joint needs. Imagine how sad and disappointed they’ll be when I let 'em know I have other plans for you!" Melannie ran her hands simultaneously very slowly down from my neck, one hand down my front, the other down my back. My nipples were still terribly sensitive and as her front hand moved along I shuddered involuntarily, my nipples stiffening immediately. When she got to my testicles, she let out an audible gasp. "Fuckin' ‘ell?! Your balls are almost too fat to fit in my hand! You taking steroids or what?!" Her other hand traced down my spine, which began to arch in a similar involuntary reaction. I could feel my male organ beginning to swell and I closed my eyes. "Everything seems to be working," she murmured, stepping behind me. Both of her hands palmed my buttocks and I felt the swelling of my cock assume a full blown erection. When she inserted a finger, I moaned softly. Unresisting, my sphincter caressed her finger’s probe. "I'm not going to fuck you, Ra's Elf, even though I can tell you want me to fuck you ... you want that very badly, don't you?" "It's true," I whispered, my breath already shallow and rapid. I moaned again as she removed her finger. "I'm just checking you out, sport. Now, down on your knees ... time to answer the magic question: can you still give deep ass worship, sweetie?" Placing her hands on her desk and leaning her weight there, Melannie spread her legs. Leaning into her, I pressed the flat of my tongue squarely against her anus, and then began testing it, inserting my tongue's tip. Melannie's anal ring relaxed and my tongue slid deeply up into her rectum, deeper than I would of thought myself capable of going ... With my now burning face buried in Melannie hot butt, I was still able to hear Melannie on the intercom: "Doris, come in here, I need you ... now!" Melannie had begun to respond to my probing worship, breathing harder. "I think your tongue got bigger!" she moaned. "Take down your slacks and panties," Melannie said to Doris as she entered the office, "come over here and lean forward on my desk with your legs spread. Ra's Elf wants to introduce himself properly!" Still naked on my knees, I manuevered myself behind the much larger hindquarters of the waiting barmaid. The deep crease between her cheeks enveloped me as I pressed into them, my tongue fully extended. At first her pucker was so tight I had to lick in rapid wee patterns all around the ring, loosening her up. When I'd try to get it into her, her sphincter would resist, so I’d have to go back to rapidly licking in wet circles ... over and over I tried to gain entrance, until suddenly Doris gave in and her anus totally relaxed and my tongue slid up into her in a rush. I curled my tongue around on the inside of her slackened ring, and began to slide it in and out, tongue-fucking her asshole. Doris grunted and gurgled, her growing abandonment made apparent by her alternately tightening and relaxing uncontrollably on my tongue, fucking me back, milking my tongue with the spasms of her anal embrace while her big butt-cheeks clamped against my face. I knew Doris was reaching climax when her buttocks reared heavily onto my face and her anus went completely slack, my tongue so fully up in her that I could not get any deeper ... her asshole’s spasming was rapid and powerful, clenching my tongue one second, going totally slack the next. I could hear her gasping. I was proud of the length and energy in my tongue, and its rooting up into Doris' ass was protracted and deeply marvelous. I wanted to keep driving it up in her forever. "What're you guys doing, falling in love!?" Melannie barked, pulling my face out from Doris' ass. "If I wanted 'From Here To Eternity' I'd've rented it! Tongue outta there, you greedy fuck! Pull up your slacks, girl!" Doris and I then stood side by side in front of Melannie's desk, me still nude, her now dressed and ready to go back to work. I was hard as a bottle, grinning like a cat. "He's good, ain't he, Doris? Gots tongue like a bitch in heat, I swear. And he can do that for days! I watched him worship ass after ass, take on gal after gal, over and over, and he got 'em all off! Then he did 'em all again! Wore ‘em all out and then begged us for more! Hell, and if you want to fuck him in his own pretty ass, he’ll do that, too! Loves it! And takes beatings you wouldn’t believe! Loves that, too! The man's perfect, and that's the truth. So how'd it feel?" "It was ... well ... it was awful good, Melannie! He really goes way up ... can't say as how I've ever had a guy go that deep ... or get me off so damned fast ... he's got a true gift ... and that's the Lord's own truth!" Doris stammered, smiling with disconcerting shyness and wonder at me. "I don’t want to hear another word about no damn lord and yeah, there ain't nothing like having a well-trained gentle man's long fat tongue tickling and diving up into your asshole -- it's a ride we all like to take. So many gals need to sit on their men, need to tame and deflower their cocky pride, so that when the man they get to sit on craves to please, to be sat on in just that muggy and suffocating way, and then the guy turns out to be as hungry for lapping butt humiliation as our boy here is! Well, Doris, don't y'just know it -- those pent-up ladies will pay cash money for some of that great ass worship! It's a special thrill and they all want it, and they should all get it! Oh, this guy's gonna do wonders for our afternoon trade, you just watch! Now go on back behind the bar, honey, while I tell Ra's Elf what all I've got in mind for him and his thoroughly tongue-untied talents." After Doris left, Melannie stared at me strangely before blurting out: "I've heard of this kind of thing -- older guy gets transformed, gains a whole new life for himself after long spell of heavy duty sexual torment on the wall -- never saw it, but I've heard tell. You're a better man now than you were, Ra's Elf -- even your goddamned tongue is bigger! Son of a bitch! Back on them knees now, Hot stuff! Momma’s butter needs more churnin’ oh yeah – bring on that wild deep tongue, Bubba . . . un-fucking-believable! A true medical miracle!" And that was how I became the Friendly Man, on duty for the pleasuring of amply cushioned ladies in the afternoons at Secrets. Cognac was my drink, Ass Worship was my trade, and my tongue was my claim to fame because apparently it was all true. I not only couldn’t get enough of orally giving worship to abundant hindquarters, but my tongue was clearly bigger, and its size was still increasing! And my energy level was constantly high. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I could even see the transformation in my face -- my worry lines were slowly fading away. My hair wasn't growing back, but all other systems were on a fast track back thru time. I couldn't recall ever feeling so feisty and willing and ready -- in a word, hungry. The triple discipline of submission, humiliation, and never-ending ass worship were new leases on life. The more I bowed to the frantic and assertive cravings of those bawdy and hot-blooded larger women, the better I felt. I had found my place in life, at long last. Days stretched into weeks, and finally time no longer mattered. Melannie would butt fuck me with her fearsome strap-ons and I would butt fuck her with my freaky tongue, and we'd go at each other like that all morning. Not even full afternoons of dining on endless strange women's huge hineys could slow me down. So that once or twice a week, she had to let me go out on my own. Melannie called it "letting the dog out," and I was truly grateful for her understanding. It was usually in the early evening, so that I'd have time to follow my nose ... Melannie liked the thought that something odd and funky would happen to me, something I could tell her about while I was helping her with her weight training in the mornings when nobody was around, something to get her into the mood to strap on the big one and proceed to fuck me silly. After I would already have pistoned her rectum with my tireless tongue for a spell, of course ... Melannie was becoming truly addicted to the tricky, snaking thrills I could drive boldly up between her spread cheeks. A lesser woman would’ve fallen in love by now . . . I would cruise the taverns and bars of the small river town casually, staring at the sleazy interactions and at all the varieties of flirtational oddness that caught my eye -- I was rarely disappointed. After a long day of being the Friendly Man at Secrets, of kneeling down behind demanding big ladies and worshipping their wondrously well-endowed rear-ends, it was a distinct pleasure to gaze upon women who did not know my special talent, women who thought of me only as an unattached male who was afflicted with the usual horny male cunt-cravings. Oh, I was cocky on those nights, sly and dirty-minded as an elder, high and spunky as a lad. Sneaking up on some strange . . . It was so very exquisite to be in normal-man drag, just another stiff dick hoping to have some anonymous woman take mercy on my rigid and utterly immoral condition. They didn't have to know I'd spent the greater part of the early afternoon hours with my nose buried up in the ass cheeks of several variously squirmy ladies who knew me only as the wiggly long tongue that burrowed so willingly, so deeply, uninhibitedly and inexhaustibly ... Rare though it was on my off-day rounds, I'd occasionally spot a jewel, an unsuspecting female of such extraordinary appeal that my fundamental instincts would become inflamed. Usually, such an unsuspecting female would be some married woman out on a momentary lark, out for a tipsy good time, a woman who did not expect to meet a man of my worshipful nature. Valerie was one such lass . . . I first noticed Valerie at one of my favorite bars, Dillinger’s, a low dive that usually was very quiet till after the hours of ten or so. I'd stop by on my off nights right around seven, taking it easy to start with, cruising slow, just looking at whatever there was to see that seemed interesting. Valerie was obviously married. And obviously stopping by for a few drinks after a shift at some local factory -- she wore jeans and a sweatshirt and seemed to be entirely too jovial, as if the booze was goosing her spirits beyond the norm. She and two other gals were shooting pool, but not seriously -- their chatter was non-stop, and the games they shot took forever. Valerie was kind of short, not my taste in that department, but really well-hung from the chest -- she was so top-drop-dead gorgeous and heavy her big breasts would shake and sway with a hypnotic motion when she stroked her shots on the pooltable ... her bosoms were so full and pendulous they were spellbindingly out of proportion to her short stature. My guess was that she probably had two or three little yappers at home that she had to breast feed and I wondered what her nipples were like, if they had been suckled on so much that they, too, were in a state of exaggerated largesse ... I figured that they were probably no longer particularly sensitive, that I would have to suck them long and hard to get her aroused, probably even have to pinch and tug on them some to get her going. I was ready, of course, for all of that. She'd spread her legs when she bent to the balls, and her thighs were strong and her hips were wide. It was the usual thing with me -- I was always such an absolute sucker for the heavier type gals and I just couldn't tear my eyes away, and finally, in the worst kind of abject worship, I put my small change upon the rail. Valerie's two companion gals sized me up as I placed my coins, both of them also in jeans and sweatshirts. One of them was a dirty blond. The other was a tallish Black gal. I loved it when strange women sized me up -- their glances were like subtle probes between my legs, and I would invariably start getting an erection. Valerie's friends glanced with ill-concealed avidity at the swelling that distorted my trousers. I stood off to the side awaiting my turn, leaning and letting my swelling be apparent and obvious, not seeming, myself, to be aware of it -- I wanted my arousal to appear to be something I did not know the women could see. Such coyness invariably worked, simply because the women always saw right thru me. Still, it was my great pleasure to pretend I didn't know they were cutting glances at my growing interest. The more I pretended to be unaware, the more the gals would leer. It was a game we all played, and sometimes it paid off. Son of the Playhouse Valerie's friends became gradually more and more beside themselves, staring openly at my crotch while they chattered, yet they acted like I was not in on their growing lust -- they made like they weren't really staring, getting louder and laughing a lot. Of course, I saw right thru them as well. While I stared at Valerie's enormous bosoms swaying, they leered at my growing discomfort. Everybody was pleased as punch. I was dressed for the occasion. My slacks were thin, snug, and of a soft material, and they hugged my ass cheeks and swollen front. When the women finally finished their game, it was my turn to rack and I squatted to lift the balls out from the end of the table. I spilled them into the rack, then stood and bent forward over the table to tighten them before lifting the rack off the triangle. I spread my legs as I bent over the table to tighten the rack and I could feel Valerie's friends eyeing my ass ... I knew my slacks were just right against my heavy balls, highlighting them, and as I bent I could feel their eyes up under me and on my balls, sizing them up and maybe even wanting to reach over and give them a bawdy squeeze. The loudness of their laughter made the whole game so obvious . . . One of Valerie's friends even emitted a low whistle while I was bent over and that was music to my ears. The touch of their glances on the fabric that caressed my fat, hanging testicles was so palpable a shiver ran down my spine. At any second I expected to feel a hand groping me under my butt, but when I looked for Valerie after I'd finished racking, she had gone over to the jukebox. I stared over at her where she stood punching in the selections ... I couldn't stop staring at how broad and inviting Valerie's magnificent ass was, till I noticed someone else . . . The other woman was standing there also, bending over to scan the selections. She was wearing a long skirt that fell almost to her ankles, but there was no way of concealing the spellbinding broad girth of those incredible hips -- she leaned at the jukebox with her legs spread, just as mine had been, but it was the heft and spread of her hams that drew my eye. Her hip cheeks were lusty loaves awaiting the test of taste, and the way she was bent into the box made those great loaves thrust out, high and full. My cock grew ever heavy and prominent as I fantasized giving my oral talents to those generous charms. I knew that when and if I ever sank my miraculous tongue in there, that gal would groan like ... like a day spent falling slowly from the sky, like a night spent rising slowly from the bottom of sea . . . she wouldn't know what hit her, and I wouldn't be able to get rid of her. My tongue was already a good two inches longer than it had been, close to six inches by now. It was strong and nimble, triple-jointed or so it seemed, and still growing! And what I wanted to do, staring at both extraordinary women bent to pick songs off the box, was sink my tongue deeply where the sun don’t shine . . . Without knowing what I was doing, I found myself walking over to where she leaned, pulled by the gravity of those enormous buttocks which reared out behind her so that I had to edge very carefully around them… I pretended to be looking for the chalk and I brushed her hips lightly as I passed. They were without doubt the largest, lushest pair of cheeks I had seen since my transformation had started happening, and I was certain we were meant for each other! Out of the corner of my eye I noticed her look sharply around at me, then turn back to the jukebox. Oh but my obsession with enormous buttocks was making me careless, so that I had to mentally kick myself, else I would be found out as the hungry, worshipful sap I was. I chalked my cue tip carefully as Valerie swung into her break, hitting the balls squarely and with a solid loud whack! that showed her athleticism. She didn't make any balls off her break, but the power of her stroke was undeniable. "You go, girl!" the Black gal called out. The balls were nicely spread around the table, but I was in no hurry and missed after making just one. "Are you laying down on me?" Valerie teased. "Not yet," I grinned. The gals hooted at this. Valerie got a look of serious intent on her face as she bent to her shot. She held her posture longer than I thought was necessary, so long that I figured she was teasing me back. Her heavy breasts swayed hypnotically, their tips just touching the green felt as she kept slowly stroking. No one spoke, so that it seemed everyone else was also entranced by her. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed even the woman in the long skirt over at the jukebox had turned to stare. When Valerie finally let the tip of her stick glide thru the cueball, everyone exhaled. She made the shot, then made a couple more before missing. And each time she had lined up a subsequent shot, she continued to take her time, teasing us all. When she finally stood up and backed away from the table her nipples were prominent under her sweatshirt. She knew how to perform, and she was proud of how she’d caught us all. So that even though my prick stayed hard, it was as if I'd just lost my audience. Valerie was like an old time stripper who strutted her stuff with skillful indirection. We stayed glued to her every deliberate move, each of us excited by her in our own way. Toward the end of the game the cueball was in a difficult place on the table so that I had to lean to it awkwardly. To make it easier, I had to lift my leg along the rail, standing on one foot. Once again my ass and balls were on display, taking the attention back from Valerie. As deliberate as she had been, I held my posture longer than necessary, slowly moving my stick back and forth. Except for the music on the jukebox, the room grew still and tense. I drew it out even longer, continuing the slow swing of my stick and savoring the attention. Getting my audience back, I even licked my lips, and did so in such a way that Valerie’s two seated pals saw my true gift. I let my tongue curl down under my chin, teasing them. My secret weapon, and I silently gloated. The seated gals stopped laughing. From where she had been standing, Valerie did not see me lick my chin that way . . . she was getting impatient, wondering what the hell was going on. When Valerie took the butt end of her cuestick and wedged it roughly up under my ass against my balls, it was with just enough force to cause me real pain. Startled, I jumped back off the rail, reflexively clutching at the pain, making it seem that the hurt was greater than it was. Truth be known, it hurt a lot, what with my balls already being in such a swollen condition, but not as much as I made it seem. The gals were again laughing and hooting loudly, but Valerie rushed up to me with a look of concern that was also fake. "Oh, I'm so sorry ... I was just kidding around!" she said, "Does it hurt so much?" I looked into her eyes, but they were not at all truly sympathetic. There was mischief mingled with a strong taste of triumphant cruelty flickering deeply in those married woman eyes. She’d imbibed just enough merry booze to reveal the edgy unbridled side of herself. Disguising my true hurt, I painted a look of controlled alarm upon my face, pretending to be brave. "It's ok," I managed, "just give me a second." "Take all the time you need, honey ... I can wait," she said. Cruel, fat, married bitch. She strode over and stood by her pals. I tried to walk it off, passing the gal in the long skirt, who had by then taken a seat by the jukebox. I could tell she hadn't seen my tongue either. She looked me over candidly, staring at my hand that was still cupped protectively at my crotch. When her eyes lifted, there was definite interest, but tinged with amusement. "That wasn't very nice of her," the woman in the long skirt said. She crossed her legs then, hiking her hemline high enough that I could at least see her calves. Despite my discomfort, or maybe because of it, I could have sunk to my knees right then and licked her calf, it was so beautiful and full. "Maybe you should give it a rest for awhile, Honey. Concede the game and take a seat. Give yourself a break." I stared at her, considering her advice, well aware that she was hitting on me. I put up my cue, telling Valerie, "I think I'm overmatched," and then I walked over to the bar and carefully got onto a barstool. My testicles still smarted, so I sat gingerly on the edge of the stool with my legs widespread. I wondered more about the gal in the long skirt than about Valerie, and then, still laughing loudly, the three gals strolled out of the bar. Glancing at them, I saw a look of appreciative wonder on the dirty blonde's face. And the Black gal murmured, "Licked the girls and made them cry!" As Valerie passed, she just had to mock me: "I truly am sorry, sweetie, but you really left yourself open for that one! Such a nice butt you have -! How could I resist? Try keeping both feet on the floor next time!" In my pride, I silently cursed her on her way, but in my abject libido I silently cried out for her to stay. I nursed my beer and stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The humiliation I felt was not the kind that gave me secret pleasure. I just felt crummy and sad. I ordered another and was almost done with it when the barmaid, Jolene, sat yet a third one in front of me. Jolene was a good gal who knew I worked as the Friendly Man over at Secrets. "It's from the lady," she said, nodding back at the woman in the chair with the long skirt. "I didn't see what went down, but she said you were sorely taken advantage of ... she wanted you to know we're not all such bad asses." I looked back, prepared to raise my bottle in thank you, but the woman in the chair was not looking my way. I walked back to the men’s room, still hoping to catch her eye, but still she was looking the other way. I wondered if she was ignoring me, but then out of the corner of my eye I saw that her long skirt had risen higher, up to her kneecaps now. I knew that if I bent lower, I could probably caress her underthighs with my eyes, but I resisted that temptation . . . I went into a stall in the men’s room and dropped my britches, checking to see if Valerie's rough nudge had left a mark. Tenderly lifting my sac, I could see no evidence of her unkind act. Ever since I’d been hung from the wall up at the Playhouse, with a vibrating butt plug up my ass so they could milk ungodly loads of my cum over and over again, my testicles had swollen and had kept generating sperm in unprecedented amounts, so that sperm just kept backing up in me, causing my balls to become so engorged and huge. It also made them extremely sensitive, which Valerie had so cavalierly discovered. I cupped each heavy testicle in turn and they both seemed as full and ready as they had ever been, just as throbbingly primed with juice as ever. Oh how I longed to unload! I was surprised that my cock was also still up, and I smiled to myself at that, aware that for me pain and humiliation were two-sided -- the more I considered it, the more it all seemed not such a bad thing after all. When I emerged from the john, my spirits were back. Feelings of having been mistreated had passed. I decided that the only really bad thing that had happened was that I hadn't been prepared, that I was just too surprised to get off on Valerie's nasty wee deed when it had happened ... had I known what was coming, I'd probably have lifted higher and spread wider, and even stayed with my posture awhile longer after the hit, inviting another! Coming out of the john, I looked to the long-skirted gal, but she was nowhere to be seen. I asked Jolene if she'd gone and learned she had indeed left the bar. But Jolene told me the gal's name was Marlene. She also said she’d let Marlene know I worked the afternoon shift at Secrets. I winked at Jolene, eyeballing her figure appreciatively, and told her I owed her one. "One what?" Jolene laughed. "Just what is it a Friendly Man does to earn his keep over at Secrets?" "I just try to pay attention to the bottom line," I replied. "Melannie appreciates my attention to the basics." Again, I let my eyes rove down over Jolene's full-figured abundance. "You can drop by anytime - my treat!" I was pretty sure Jolene had a perfectly accurate notion of my usefulness to the Secrets agenda, and I was quite willing to give her a free demonstration. "Whatever... " Jolene offered, but I noted the edgy glint in her eyes. To bring out a woman's deeply suppressed will to dominance was my mission in life, the low rung on the sexual/social ladder that I occupied with such eager aplomb. That edgy look that crept into Jolene's eyes was the confirmation of my usefulness to inhibited women. They all needed a Friendly Man to abase and abuse, one who could return their avid interest with fervent adoration, always asking for more, begging for more, giving it up enthusiastically. I was a bar-star to all their lowest aspirations. Hard to beat. Easy to beat. And one hell of a sap for big ass! I left Jolene a generous tip and savored the distinct possibility that I might be seeing her, and also the heavy goddess Marlene and those enormous hips of hers, again soon. I vowed inwardly to stay well prepared for that eventuality. No more rough surprises from the rear that caught me so off guard. Or at least none that I couldn't get off on and ask for more of. When I told the tale to Melannie the following morning, she seemed strangely indignant. She was nude on her back on the weights bench and I was standing near her head, spotting her to make sure she didn't have an accident. Melannie was sweating profusely, the juices making her body shine. "Squat little bitch with big titties, eh? If I see her, I'll cut one off and feed it to her, the cunt!" I was bare-chested, wearing gym shorts with no jock strap, the way Melannie liked when I assisted her in her training ... she liked to stare up under my shorts at my privates while she worked out. Not that Melannie was much of a cock lover, far be it -- she just liked to monitor my states of arousal. Whenever my dick would start to get hard, she'd start telling me how bad she was going to fuck my ass when she got done with her lifting. It would make her exercise all the more vigorously, actually, and the more vigorously Melannie worked out, the harder I got. I liked her hard breathing, and I liked it when she sweated a lot. I always lapped her out when she finished, and the wetness was tart and savory. A distinct treat. "I got a new strap-on for you, Lover, thickest one I ever found, about a foot long," she panted as she hefted the weights. "When my day gal opens up, she's gonna wonder why you're so bowlegged today ... knowing her, she'll probably be all sympathetic ... I bet you really liked the feel of the butt end of that cue socking your balls, eh?" Blushing, I looked down at her and wanted to start eating her out right then, while the sweat was still flowing and her skin was hot from her efforts. My ass was hungry for the thick new strap-on, and I was having flashbacks of being up on the rail at Dillinger's, with Valerie jamming the butt end of her cue into me. I started breathing shallowly and Melannie noticed. "Hotter'n a pistol, balls like grapefruits, dick all stretched and bobbing ... I'd say my Friendly Man's ready for some deep butt fucking," she growled, rising from the bench. She strode over to her desk and bent over it, leaning across it to a drawer that she opened and reached into. Bent over the desk that way, her strong cheeks were high and out-thrust and I quickly knelt behind her, opening my jaws wide and pressing the length of my tongue up into the sweaty canyon between them. I was tasting the rivulets of sweat running down into the crack of her ass when Melannie suddenly pushed back vigorously and sent me sprawling. She turned around, in her hand the fierce new strap-on . . . I looked up at it in awe. It was indeed longer and thicker than the others she'd used on me. She held its apple-headed tip down against my lips, forcing me to suck. I knew that the wetter I got it, the easier it would slide into me, so I opened wide and slicked the thing thoroughly. She then belted it in place around her waist, adjusting its straps so it rode down against her cunt, so that when she fucked me its specially contoured backside would rub against her clit. I got to my feet and stepped quickly out of my gym shorts and went over to the bench, spreading myself, lowering my face and lips to the still-wet bench and raising my buttocks high. I sniffed and licked at Melannie's sweaty bench as the big tool worked its way relentlessly deeper into my bowels. She grabbed hold of my sides for better leverage and the thing sank wholly up into my ass. Very quickly my passage adjusted to the invader, and chills of ecstatic pleasure rocked thru me. Melannie panted and cursed, building up a steady steaming deep rhythm that soon had me panting as well. We were both moaning as Melannie's strokes gained in strength -- she was frigging her cunt with its motion while she fucked my brains out, and tears fell from my eyes, mixing in with Melannie's own sweat already on the bench. I looked back under my own thighs as Melannie's vigor reamed into me relentlessly and I watched as my heavy balls swung crazily beneath the gut-wrenching power of those brutally bawdy & pitiless strokes. What joy! After the long reaming, Melannie pulled the thing out and it gave an audible pop! as it sprang free. She spun me onto my back onto the wet bench and she swung a leg over and squatted her sweaty ass upon my face. Her big bad dildo slapped down onto my chest as my tongue disappeared up into the butter and jam of her hungry anal ring. She tensed her sphincter and I was caught snug and tight. She tightened even more and then began lifting, pulling on my tongue so that my head was pulled upwards off the bench. She began a series of lifts and lowers, clenching on my tongue, holding my tongue up inside her ass, banging my head down onto the bench then yanking it back up again, over and over as she swooned into a series of butt-hole orgasms. I loved to feel the spasms in her rectum as it enclosed my tongue when those orgasms came on. I’d feel well used and well tended, but then she suddenly let her sphincter relax and my tongue slipped easily out of her. I licked around my lips and left my tongue just hanging there. I must have made quite the obscene spectacle, what with that long hanging tongue and my face greased and sloppy from the copious flow of Melannie’s work-out inspired juices. Melannie never permitted me to touch myself to get off (she had other ways to take my cum) so I laid uncomfortably on the bench while she showered. My balls had commenced to throb in their familiar achy way as I listened to her shower. When she came out all sopping wet she squatted her now immaculate cunt directly onto my mouth. I knew what was coming and opened wide to drink from her pussy lips. Her piss was hot and sprayed over my fat tongue and down my throat in a pressurized stream. I didn't waste a drop, and Melannie laughed delightedly when she lifted off my face. She called her piss my aperitif, my toast and my reward, and in truth her hot golden nectar never failed to intoxicate and invigorate me. "Better get your own shower now, bub ... Doris the day girl's due any minute." After I'd showered, I stood at one of the two-way mirrors, watching Melannie out in the bar, getting things ready at the cash register. I adored her, tall and strong and bawdy and demanding woman that she was. Damn my hide, it felt like love. What an honor to receive from and to give to such a wondrous lady. I was one lucky guy, I decided. Doris was in the ladies room so I walked over to that mirror and watched her as I dried off. The blue ache in my groin was very strong as I watched her apply her make-up. The aching was my ally, that very discomfort a sensation borne of controlled, pent-up frustration, a sign of my denial and of my devotion. I relished how the pain radiated from my lower manhood, for yes, it was the very proof of my useful and ennobling submission to my betters. Son of the Playhouse I let the flat of my tongue lap along against the glass, leaving wide wet streaks. Unbeknownst to Doris, I was just inches away, worshipping her already. Worship itself was the abasement I excelled at. No woman was safe, nor needed to be. I lived only to adore them, particularly their broad bottoms, intimately and at length. All I lacked in that moment of open-mouthed covert voyeurism and worship was some third dominant BBW Goddess, whistling whip or flogger in hand, whaling or flogging away at my exposed hindquarters. And oh yes but didn’t my gaping, sore anus involuntarily tense at that prospect! For yea verily there was nothing like a stinging good whipping to firm up a loosened bunghole, to bring back its resistant, defensive wee pucker. All in good time, I knew. My day had just begun and already I was as happy as any man alive . . .