The Secret CFNM Life of Tom Murphy


There was one character trait about Thomas J. Murphy that superseded all others: his innate desire to please people, especially women. As a young boy he would take great pleasure in helping his mother clean the house or run errands for her. His father, having died in an automobile accident when he was just an infant, left a tremendous hole in his mother's life. As time went on, she relied upon him not only for the physical labor he provided, but also for the emotional support that she could not get from her daughter Andrea, who was two years older than Tom. Andrea was a complex, highly spirited, and beautiful young woman who liked to take advantage of her younger brother's generous and self-effacing nature; so much so that his mother had to frequently intervene in order to keep the boy from becoming her plaything. Tom, of course, had no desire to devolve into some obsequious lackey, and as he grew into young manhood he acquired a particular strength of character that could not be easily manipulated. But the desire to please was always foremost in his mind.

This, of course, did not mean that he did not go out of his way to help his sister; he did. More often than not, he took great delight in cooking meals for both his sister and his mother, anxiously waiting to hear their combined moans of pleasure as they sampled their first morsel of food. Unlike most boys in their teen years, who often found themselves in open rebellion against their parents and other siblings, Tom loved being needed by his family. He saw it as an obligation to step into this dead father's shoes and protect and defend the ones he loved. That his mother and sister both seemed to rely heavily upon him for most things pleased him no end. However, beyond this familial devotion, he could be as rebellious as any other young man when confronted with those exemplars of external authority: teachers. And this xtended to even the most placid and sanguine of this species who, of course, were all male.

As time wore on his sister's taunts and manipulative schemes subsided and she recognized him at last for what he truly was: a genuinely loving and caring young man; handsome, intelligent, and by the time he reached his eighteenth birthday, physically imposing at 6' 3" tall. He was also, however, prone to introversion, but when in the company of those whom he loved and trusted, he could easily become the life of the party. In effect, he was a man of composites, showing one face to the outside world, while showing another only to those who inhabited his private inner sanctum.

The Murphy's lived in a lovely, but small, converted farmhouse about twenty miles west from downtown Boston. The town was small too, never surpassing a few thousand in total population. Everyone knew each other, and that was how the Murphy's liked it. But, as Tom was finishing high school, he began to think beyond the limited confines of his provincial town to the wonders that existed in the far-flung places of the world. He felt a little like George Bailey in "It's A Wonderful Life," who always wanted to see exotic and novel places, but was never able to do so for one reason or another. Tom would not allow that to happen to him. He would work and save his money and, after college, he'd make sure to travel the world. He might even take his mother and sister along too, if he could afford to do so. He had a very big heart, Tom Murphy did.

After earning his degree in teaching from one of Boston's most renowned educational institutions, Tom continued to live with his mother and sister, finding a teaching job as an associate professor of political science at Harvard. Although he often had the opportunity to date attractive women, he rarely did so, finding himself at a loss to devote time to pursuits that he found at odds with his devotion to study. He had also promised his mother not to live on campus but to return home every night to be with her. He didn't mind this restriction because it made him feel good to be needed. He truly enjoyed caring for his mother. Not that he was a mama's boy. He wasn't. He was just a dedicated and loving son—a man of rare and exceptional talents who didn't need a woman on his arm at every moment, like some men did.

The few times that Tom did go out on dates, he tended to prefer intellectual, self-confident, pedigree types that represented the antithesis of the provincial, sheltered, and timid varieties, which seemed to flourish in his own hometown. On one occasion, he asked a fellow teacher, a certain Ms. Severance, to have dinner with him at a pricey restaurant in Harvard Square. At first she played hard to get, but Tom's good looks and charming ways soon won her over. She was tall, about 5' 9", and quite stunning, with long, coal black hair that fell to her waist, and eyes that sparkled like two huge aquamarines. Physically, she seemed flawless. But it was not so much her fabulous looks that attracted him—it was her commanding presence that both impressed and excited him most.

Tom dated more often as the school year proceeded, being drawn to any woman whom he thought might offer him an intellectual challenge. He dated women from the college faculty and staff, as well as women whom he met at clubs, parties and other social events. Once he even dated a woman who ran a local salon, simply because she was feisty and was not afraid to tell off some male customer who tried unsuccessfully to come on to her.

But the truth about his nature, which for most of his adult life had been unconsciously suppressed, finally came to light when Ms. Severance and he were conversing in her classroom after normal school hours. They had been discussing an issue relating to world politics and he was losing the argument. Most men would have become angry if they found themselves losing ground to a woman, but he found himself wanting to surrender to this dominant, intellectually powerful Amazon. With each counter argument she offered, his position weakened further still, until he realized that he was becoming sexually excited watching her make a fool of him. As they sat across from the table from one another, he occasionally glanced at her feet and lovely long legs. He wanted more than anything to run his tongue up and down those delicious limbs in humble servitude. He wanted to remove her shoes and suck each pristine toe into his mouth, cleaning each one with his hot, wet tongue, on his knees before her like a supplicant, begging for the chance to devote himself to her every whim.

But what finally drove him to the realization that he enjoyed being dominated by women was when, moments later, a female student came walking into the class to be reprimanded by Ms. Severance. The student, a pretty young girl of nineteen who had been caught with marijuana in her handbag, looked nervous as Ms. Severance ordered her to sit down. Tom quietly seated himself behind the girl and to her left so that he could continue to stare lustfully at Ms. Severance's beautiful and sexy legs.

With every caustic remark delivered to the girl, Tom found himself getting more and more turned on. And as the verbal barrage continued, his cock began to grow. Shielded by the student, Tom could take in more and more of those astoundingly long legs that seemed to captivate him beyond his comprehension. Was he going mad with lust? He didn't know, nor did he care. All that mattered to him at that moment was that he felt a tremendously powerful sexual thrill that made him gasp with pleasure.

And then, in the middle of her strident harangue, Ms. Severance let the shoe from her right foot drop, exposing the succulent foot and its perfectly manicured toes. It was an unconscious effort on her part, but it brought Tom more joy than he could imagine. There was nothing he could do but reach down toward his crotch and begin stroking his aching penis. He knew it was wrong. He knew that, if caught, he might lose his job, but he was beyond caring now. All he wanted to do was to get on his knees and worship those lovely appendages that so captivated him.

As he stroked his stiff prick, he imagined himself completely nude in front of both women. And this new and exciting fantasy began to take on a form all its own as he pictured himself the naked plaything of this commanding woman and the chastised girl. He wanted them both to watch him strip the clothes off his body, his huge jutting hard-on waving in the air, his two bulging testicles overripe with hot sperm, ready to shoot its monstrous load of molten white cream high into the air for both women to enjoy, and then to bask in the sublime radiance of their collective beauty, totally drained and spent.

And then he started to cum. He could feel the warmth of his semen saturate his pants as his hand forced spurt after spurt of milky spunk from the depths of his swollen balls, all the while keeping his eyes focused on Ms. Severance's luscious legs and feet. It felt so good, not only because of the visual treat he was experiencing, but because his orgasm coincided with a particularly virulent verbal attack upon the cringing girl. He had never cum so hard before.

From that moment on, Tom began to utilize the Internet to provide the bulk of his clothed female, naked male (CFNM) experiences. He found many adult sites dedicated to providing its members with quality CFNM videos and photos, and he quickly became a CFNM junkie. For hours on end he would sit in front of his computer jerking off to pictures of naked men being controlled and manipulated by dominant women. He was thrilled as never before.

It was during the fourth year of his teaching tenure at Harvard that he met and fell in love with a strikingly beautiful blonde woman from Cambridge—a socialite from a very rich family who had roots going back to the days of the Revolution. Her name was Abigail Worthington, and she was, at only 22 years old, a force to be reckoned with.

Abigail was a brilliant, strong-willed, and tremendously ambitious woman who had been recently elected to the Cambridge town council—the youngest person to occupy that post. She single-handedly was responsible for initiating a series of tax cuts that brought welcomed relief to the town's struggling economy and also engineered an all-encompassing jobs program that brought an influx of workers into the community from all parts of Massachusetts. For this she was greatly admired by her peers and the average worker, who saw her as a champion of the people. Rich and powerful as her family was, she herself was a person who believed strongly in Democratic principles, seeing this as the only viable route to a town government predicated upon justice and equanimity. For all her money and status, she remained essentially a woman of the people.

During one of her speeches delivered at Harvard one humid July afternoon, she was introduced to Tom by a mutual acquaintance. Tom quickly became enamored of her and she of him. After a brief courtship, the two married and settled in a luxurious apartment on the southern end of Harvard Square overlooking the Charles River. He had never been happier.

During the first two years of their marriage, Tom seldom felt the need to seek out his sexual thrills via the Internet. His beautiful wife was more than a match for his own powerful sexual urges. However, in the third year of their marriage, his desire to seek out anything related to CFNM, so long dormant, suddenly resurfaced, and he began to indulge his passion whenever his wife was not at home. A part of him felt like he was betraying his wife's trust—that what he was doing would not be understood nor appreciated by her. But his desires quickly overcame any misgivings he might have had, and he assiduously pursued his rampant fetish as often as he could, sometimes spending hundreds of dollars per month in adult site membership fees. He charged these fees to his own personal credit card, the bill of which was delivered to his own private post office box.

Tom was extremely careful to erase all evidence of his Internet behavior. The last thing he wanted his wife to know was that underneath all that fa├žade of outward manly bravado lurked a closet fetishist. He knew that he wasn't a true submissive, yet he did enjoy watching naked men humble themselves before women. He also enjoyed watching men's bare bottoms spanked by clothed women and especially enjoyed it when multiple women tied men down to a table and milked their stiff pricks until they lost control and spewed giant arcs of cum high up into the air. He always watched these orgasmic sequences in slow motion, enjoying every savory spurt of cum as the women's expert stroking forced the sperm from the men's excited tools.

But more than enjoying watching ropes of cum cascade into the air, it was the women's reactions to the men's orgasms that really turned him on. Sometimes he would imagine his wife doing the same thing to him, and he laughed aloud knowing her conservative upbringing would never place her in that role. On one hand he was thankful for it, on the other he was dismayed because he wished she were a little more adventurous. The truth was, he was afraid to tell her anything about his clandestine desires for fear she might think him a pervert, which of course he was. She was a woman of quiet dignity and a community leader. She would never understand. It would have to be kept a secret from her—forever.

It was in the fourth year of their marriage that Tom finally made the decision to seek out CFNM experiences in the real world. He had often read about people who took part in wild CFNM parties and he wanted desperately to be dominated by beautiful women and to have them watch as he masturbated in front of them. In truth, he had grown jaded with what was available to him on the Internet. And his wife's focus on conventionality in their bedroom encounters left him hungry for something more exciting and unusual.

Searching through one of the CFNM blogs one evening, Tom came across an ad listed by an organization known for holding lavish CFNM entertainment such as strip shows, private events, bachelorette parties, etc., that catered to women. The company, called "Ladies First," was looking to hire handsome, well-built males to serve as waiters for their all-women events. The men would have to go completely nude with the exception that they must wear bowties and shoes. It appealed to Tom immediately.

He sent an e-mail to the contact listed on the page and the next day received a reply to come in for a personal interview at the company headquarters in downtown Boston the following week. He was to report between the hours of 10:00 AM and 7:00 PM to the "Lansdowne Studio" on Boylston Street, where he would be asked to remove his clothes before an audience of several females. If he felt uncomfortable doing this, the e-mail stated, then he need not apply.

When Tom read this his heart leapt for joy. A chance to finally expose himself before a group of clothed women! Outrageous! And thrilling! That night he hardly slept at all.

The rest of that week, and for part of the next, Tom was preoccupied with the thought of stripping himself naked in front of a bunch of fully clothed women. It was all he could think about. Abigail didn't know what to make of his odd behavior. When she questioned him if anything were wrong he quickly reassured her that it was his workload at the college that was putting a lot of stress upon him. This was true to some extent, but far from the whole story. Somehow he managed to convince her that he was telling the truth. She bought his story and thought nothing further of it.

On Wednesday of the following week Tom arrived at the "Lansdowne Studio" promptly at 10:00 AM, having called in to work sick that day. His wife had already left for an out-of-town company meeting several hours earlier. As he walked in the front door he found the room empty, with the exception of an attractive-looking middle-aged woman who was sitting at a desk at the far end of the room. As he walked toward her she lifted her head slowly and smiled at him.

"May I help you?" she said politely.

"Yes," Tom replied. "My name is Tom Murphy and I have come for the interview with 'Ladies First'."

"Oh, of course." She let her eyes take in the full measure of him. "Please fill out this form and give it back to me and I'll let them know you're here."

"Where are all the people?" he inquired. "I thought there would be a lot of guys..."

"Most of them come in at noon when they're on their break from work and some come after 5:00 PM. This place can get pretty crowded. Be thankful you don't have to deal with that."

The woman handed Tom a clipboard containing some paperwork and a pen, then retreated through a door behind her. Tom sat in a nearby chair and filled in the form with a shaking hand. He had no idea what to expect. And that look that woman gave him! It was downright lustful! He felt his heart begin to beat wildly in his chest as he supplied the necessary information.

A few minutes later the woman re-emerged and in a lilting voice said that "they" were ready to meet him. Tom hurriedly finished writing on the form and handed it back to the woman.

"All done," he said smiling nervously.

She took the clipboard from him and told him to proceed though the door from which she had just emerged.

"Good luck, Tom," she said, almost laughing as she did so.

Tom was not prepared for what he encountered as he opened the door. There, before him, was a large rectangular table around which sat no less than two dozen women—all fully outfitted in business suits and all very attractive—discussing in a most animated fashion the merits of the males whose pictures they had displayed before them. Their ages ran the gamut of what he thought were young girls in their early twenties to more mature specimens in their fifties and sixties. As he walked in their conversations came to an abrupt end and all eyes focused on him.

"Mr. Murphy," one of the older women said to him. "Please come in and have a seat over there."

She pointed to a chair that stood on an elevated platform about a dozen feet from the head of the table. As he sat down all the women shifted their chairs to get a good view of him.

"He has nice shoulders," one young blonde woman commented to another.

There were several giggles and then the older woman spoke.

"Okay, enough ladies. Mr. Murphy, my name is Esther Wallace. May I call you Tom?"

"Please do."

"I have to ask you several questions and then you will be asked to remove your clothes. Is that all right with you?"

"Ah," Tom hesitated. "You mean remove my clothes in front of you?"

"Yes," she replied, in a matter of fact tone. "In front of all of us. Do you have any objections?"

"Well, I..."

"You did read the ad didn't you?"


"Then you know that all our waiters go naked at our events."

"Yes, I know that. It's just that I've never done this before. You have to admit it does seem a bit odd."

Tom's hands were starting to feel clammy. Maybe he wasn't really cut out for this CFNM thing after all—at least not the reality of it.

"If you are uncomfortable being nude in front of women then we really have nothing further to discuss I'm afraid."

"No, no, it's not that," he replied quickly. "I just want to know...will my face be posted all over the Internet? I have a reputation to uphold."

Esther smiled. "You need not worry about that, Tom. All of our clients, as well as those who work directly for our company, are guaranteed complete anonymity. Like you, they have reputations to uphold too."

"Come on!" one of the young girls sitting in the back of the room shouted. "Let's see some beefsteak!"

At her instigation, the rest of the women began to push him to remove his clothes. At first hesitant, he found their raucous encouragement titillating, and when he exposed his muscular bare chest to them to wild applause, he lost all timidity and rapidly disposed of his pants, shoes and socks.




"The underwear, too," Esther gently reminded him.


"Yes, really."

"But I have a..."

"Hard-on," Esther laughed. "Yes, I can tell. Take it out. We all want to see it."

The entire room echoed her sentiments with a huge roar of approval.

Tom felt his legs begin to shake beneath him and wondered if he could take that final step of exposing himself to a room full on clothed strangers. For a brief moment he considered putting his clothes back on and walking out. He thought of all kinds of reasons why he shouldn't be doing this. Notwithstanding the moral implications involved, he was worried about his wife finding out. She would never understand his fetish and it could easily spell the end of his marriage—to say nothing of putting his teaching job in jeopardy. He was taking an awful risk and he knew it. Yet, as his fingers reached underneath the elastic band of his underwear and he began to slowly pull them down, he felt an overpowering sense of exhilaration that he had never felt before. It was as if he were finally accepting the truth about himself; that he wanted nothing more than to please women and to be controlled by them. When his 9-inch erect cock sprang into view the women's collective gasps and moans served as a form of repudiation for all that he felt. There was no going back now.

"Lovely!" Esther remarked as she stared at his swollen cock jutting out before him.

All the women in the room went wild seeing his incredible physique on full display. Tom felt elated but somewhat embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I can't help it."

"Don't be sorry," Esther giggled. "A handsome man with a handsome penis has nothing to apologize for. I just have a few questions for you and then you can go. Ladies, please quiet down."

Tom was invited to sit down as he was being questioned. Most of the inquiries dealt specifically with his sexual preferences, which at first put him off a bit. However, he fought the inclination to be disingenuous and told Esther the truth, causing him a good share of embarrassment and pure entertainment for the women.

"So, how many times a day do you masturbate, Tom?" Esther asked him, trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, I guess it depends on my mood," he answered honestly. "Usually once a day, sometimes twice."

"Do you have trouble keeping an erection?"

A mature woman sitting next to Esther laughed aloud. "Does it look like he's having any trouble? Look at it for heaven's sake!"

The interview went on for another ten minutes, after which he was told that he was hired.

"It's rare that I hire anyone on the spot," Esther said to Tom. "But I have a good feeling about you. I think you'll make a wonderful addition to our team."

"Thank you," he replied as he reached for his underwear. "I really enjoy pleasing women." Never had he felt so alive and willing to make women happy.

"Esther," one of the young girls across the table from her said. "Don't you think he should...?" She started to jerk her open fist back and forth for all to see.

"Oh, yes," Esther replied. "I almost forgot."

She reached into her valise and pulled out a paper that she handed to Tom. "The president of our company just the other day issued a new hiring regulation which states that all employees must be willing to masturbate themselves to orgasm before the hiring board. And that means you, Tom."

The entire room broke out in laughter.

"You can't be serious," Tom objected.

"I'm deadly serious," Esther replied. "Lately many of our waiters have been asked to masturbate themselves or have themselves masturbated by our clients. It's becoming an increasingly common practice these days. I'm afraid you will have to comply with this regulation or we can't hire you."

Tom looked stunned. "You mean you want me to jerk myself off here right now in front of all of you?"

"That's right," Esther said looking somewhat bemused. "It's already hard anyway, so you're halfway there now."

All the women in the room wholeheartedly agreed. They each began to urge him to masturbate himself while they watched.

"Come on, Tom," one pretty young brunette said in a coaxing voice. "You said you want to please women so...please us! Jerk it off. We want to watch you cum."

"Do it!" screamed another beautiful young girl. "Jerk it off for us baby!"

With encouragement such as this, Tom found himself slowly stroking his cock for their enjoyment. He was in his element now and he knew it. Although he was undeniably a plaything for this lascivious group of women, he also had them in the palm of his hands, knowing that his good looks and attractive body were as much an allure for them as his desire to show off for them was for him. He had to suppress a laugh when he thought of how ridiculous he must look. Yet none of the women were laughing—they were groaning with pleasure. If his wife could see him now she'd be filing divorce papers in a minute. But even this thought could not stop the hand that now pulled on his prick with ever increasing speed, forcing the sperm deep within his balls to react violently with each feverish stroke.

During this time Esther took a seat in front of Tom, admiring his technique. She was a very tall woman, about 5' 11", and as she sat there with her beautiful long legs crossed, he found it hard to keep his eyes off them. He wanted to shoot his plentiful load of sperm all over those gorgeous limbs of hers. He could see the cum splashing onto her perfect legs, the jets of hot semen coating her from ankle to knee in one incredible burst of white lava. She knew that she was exacerbating his lust and removed her shoes so that he could see her lovely feet. He knew he could not hold off any longer.

"Better move back," he warned Esther. "I tend to shoot pretty fucking far!"

"Do it," she ordered him, ignoring his warning. "I want to watch every fucking spurt!"

His huge schlong reared back once, and then twice. Suddenly the hot cum flew out of his excited prick with a vengeance, sailing out a good fifteen feet over the head of Esther and landing onto the front end of the table where an enthralled group of girls were forced to lean back to avoid getting splashed. This was followed by a tremendous round of cum bursts, each successive blast flying out further than the one before it. The women sat amazed as their eyes followed the thick white ropes of cream as they shot out errantly around the room. Esther got a huge dose of sperm on her right leg, which caused her to laugh hysterically. A few of the women sitting at the table also got hit with Tom's generous offering, but they didn't seem to mind. When it was finally over Tom was greeted with a roar of applause.

"Amazing!" Esther exclaimed, as she removed a few tissues from her pocketbook and began to wipe the sperm from her leg. "I have never seen a guy cum like that before. Amazing!"

"I've never been worked up like that before I guess," Tom conceded.

"You have a thing for women's legs and feet I see."

"Yes, I do. And yours are beautiful."

"If they can inspire you to do that then you'll be a big hit at our parties I'm sure!"

After he had put his clothes back on he said goodbye to the women and walked out of the room to a thunderous roar of applause.

As Tom was driving home he found it hard to believe what he had just experienced. He felt ashamed of himself for having to deceive his wife in this way, but his lust was uncontrollable. He was a slave to his desires and he had no choice but to obey those desires. The very fact that he knew he was doing something illicit made it all the more exciting for him. Esther told him that he could expect to work his first assignment in about a week. If he could have made those intervening days disappear with a wave of his hand he would have done so, and not have regretted it in the least.


In the days following his interview, Tom was careful not to overcompensate in being nice to his wife. He knew that although she was not suspicious be nature, any overt attempts to cater to her might arouse her curiosity. So, he played it cool and casual—quite in keeping with his nature. Thus, Abigail suspected nothing. But then she had her own professional issues to contend with, and these occupied a great deal of her time, often requiring her to spend days away from home conducting business out of state. Though they did not spend a great deal of time together, the time they did have to themselves was spent wisely and always with great displays of warmth and affection.

It was the day before he was to report for his first assignment that he and Abigail found themselves with an entire evening to share. He business appointment had been cancelled and he had completed grading final papers for the semester. As she sat at the dinner table with him he smiled to himself wondering how on earth she had the energy to work a 10-hour day and still have enough energy to cook dinner. It seemed to him that she must possess some superhuman qualities that mere mortals like him could never possess. As he stared at her he was drawn to the conclusion that she had become more beautiful with the passing of the years. Now at 26, she was at the height of her beauty: a stunning blonde goddess who commanded the respect of everyone, including him.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, finally realizing that he was staring at her.

"Nothing that shouldn't be there, my darling," he said grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

"Then why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm sorry. You're just so damned gorgeous."

"You're an idiot," she replied as she lifted a fork full of food to her mouth.

"I can't help it," Tom protested. "You are".

Abigail shook her head and looked at him as if he were crazy. After she swallowed her food she took his hand in hers. "If you want to get me into bed all you have to do is ask." She impulsively reached down between his legs and laughed. "Hard as a rock! You little fiend!"

Tom had indeed grown erect as he sat there lusting after his wife. Without a further word between them, she led him into the bedroom and threw him down on the bed. "I'm going to fuck you, you horny little bastard," she said as she ripped his shirt off.

Tom smiled. He loved it when his wife played the dominant role—as she had done so often before. He had no choice but to submit to her will and he loved her for it.

"I haven't tasted your hot jizz in a long time," she reminded him as she removed his pants and underwear. "After you fuck me, I want you to shoot your hot load right down my fucking throat. Do you hear me, you little shit?"

"Yes, Abigail. Whatever you want."

"That's right you little fuck. Whatever I want! Now take off those fucking shoes and socks and start playing with yourself."

"Aren't you going to get undressed too?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No, I want to fuck you with your clothes on."

She laughed. "Fine. I'll leave all my clothes on except for these."

Abigail lifted up her skirt and quickly removed her underwear. She shoved them right into Tom's open and waiting mouth.

"The smell of my cunt is all over those fucking things. Eat it up you fucking piece of shit!"

Tom was in heaven. He absolutely loved it when his wife talked dirty to him. It didn't happen often but when it did, he was grateful for it. Looking down, he saw his prick expand to new dimensions under her verbal assault.

She grabbed his huge tool in her right hand and began jerking it off with hard, rapid strokes. With her left hand she caressed his bulging ball sack.

"These guys are full of heavy cream," she giggled. "I don't know if I'll be able to drink it all down. Maybe you should just jerk off in front of me this time."

That was unexpected. Never before had she offered to just sit and watch as he masturbated himself in front of her. It was something he welcomed with utter joy.

"I want you to sit there in that chair with your legs crossed so that I can shoot all my hot sperm all over them."

"You love my legs, don't you?" she said, sensually rubbing her hands up and down her miraculous limbs.

"I adore them. And your beautiful feet too."

"Then start sucking you mother fucker!"

Abigail dragged his naked body to the chair where she forced him to kneel down as she sat before him with her feet in his face. Without a word, Tom started kissing one foot and then the next, finally taking several toes in his mouth and lavishing them with dutiful obeisance. She sat back and watched contentedly as her husband licked, sucked and fondled her toes with his playful tongue, never once stopping until both feet were entirely cleaned to her satisfaction.

"I need to be fucked right now," she said rising from her chair.

Leading him to the bed, she had him lay down on the edge of it with his legs spread apart while she lifted her skirt exposing her astoundingly lovely derriere to his face. His prick was bobbing back and forth in wild anticipation of entering her.

"I'm going to lower my cunt onto your big fucking dick," she said, tossing her blonde mane to one side as she turned to face away from him. "You will fuck my cunt until I have had several orgasms. You will not ejaculate inside me. Is that understood you son of a bitch?"

"Yes, Abigail. I promise not to cum inside you."

"Good," she replied as her nether lips caressed the tip of his penis. "Because I want to see you shoot your hot seed all over my legs."

As she lowered herself onto his towering cock, she gasped aloud. He did too. It was an unbelievable feeling to see her round and tight ass rise up and down the length of his pulsating shaft. He knew that if he saw her lovely face, sexually stimulating in its lustful contortions, it would probably bring him over the edge. As it was, he was happy to have her pleasure herself in this way, as he felt he could hold off ejaculating for a much longer time.

Within a few minutes he felt her cunt lips tighten up around his cock and he knew she was having an orgasm. She cried aloud at the intense pleasure she was feeling as he continued to pump his penis in and out of her hot pussy with wild abandon. This went on for about a half hour until she had experienced more than seven separate and distinct orgasms. Tom was barely able to ride out the last one, as his balls were now sending out urgent signals to his brain that the sperm trapped within them must be relieved, and soon.

Abigail, sensing that her husband was now ready to cum, stood up and quickly sat down in the chair, crossing her long and luscious legs before him. The urge for him to shoot his hot cream was out of his control. No sooner had she sat down than he was on his feet before her stroking his meat for all he was worth.

"Look at you," she said enticing him, coaxing him. "You're like a fucking wild man. You can't get that sperm out fast enough can you, you bastard? You pervert!"

She thrust out her legs at him, inviting him to coat her limbs with his hot spunk.

"You drive me insane!" Tom said, his breath coming now in short gasps.

Abigail laughed heartily at this admission and lifted her feet under his scrotum to play with his overheated nuts.

"Spit it out!" she laughed. "I want to see every fucking spurt of your hot sticky spunk as it splashes all over my feet and legs, you fucking miserable mother fucker!"

His prick could take no more. Tom screamed aloud as the first volley of creamy goo shot out of his agitated prick, flying over his wife's head and splashing into the wall behind her.

"Ha!" she exclaimed, not even attempting to duck. "Nice shot!"

The second load was launched in the same fashion, but this time the ejaculate hit the picture to her right.

"You're not getting it on my legs!" she admonished him.

Forcing his cock downward, Tom let out a continuous barrage of hot semen all over his wife's outstretched limbs. Abigail watched in rapt fascination as her husband's penis discharged its pent up load in a series of volatile bursts, the white cream forming interesting geometrical shapes on her legs as if he were frosting a cake. Much of the sperm settled on the area just beneath her knees, but several shots managed to find their way onto her delicate feet, forming a pasty white patina between her long and well-shaped toes. After wringing the last drops of sperm from his now deflated penis, Tom fell back onto the bed, exhausted.

It was later while they were getting ready to go to sleep that she reminded him that it had been two weeks since they had last had sex.

"I can't believe it's been that long," he said, kissing her goodnight.

"I'd say it was worth the wait," she replied, turning off the light.

"Well," he replied, "it certainly turned you into a foul-mouthed whore!"

"You're not upset with me for calling you all those terrible names are you?"

Tom chuckled. "No, darling, of course not. I like when you take command like that. It's very sexy."

"You know I don't really mean those things."

"I know darling. I know."

"Because I would never really treat you like that. Not you."

"Honey, it's okay. Go to sleep."

Tom leaned over to give his wife a kiss and held her in his arms until she fell asleep.

He had performed well. His wife and he were both happy. But he still could not get out of his mind why she had chosen to keep her clothes on. And he dare not ask her why. Had she somehow discovered his secret CFNM passion? He mulled this thought over and over in his mind until he joined his wife in blissful repose.


The e-mail Tom received the next morning from "Ladies First" made him shudder with excitement. He had waited until Abigail had left for work before he turned his computer on. When he saw the message he was thrilled.

The e-mail told him to report at 9:00 PM that evening to the private residence of a Ms. Hornsby, who lived about 30 miles north of Boston in a small town he knew had been the repository of the state's most wealthiest and powerful people for the past two hundred years. He was given driving directions and a few words of encouragement. He was also informed that all the waiters were to perform "in the nude". The message was signed "Esther".

Tom knew that Abigail would be in Manhattan for several days on business, so there would be no questions about his comings and goings. For this he was grateful. All day long he imagined what the house would look like, how big it was, how many women would be there and what would be required of him beyond the obvious tasks any waiter would perform. His wife had called him around dinnertime to tell him that her drive to Manhattan had been very tiring and that she would be going to sleep early. She told him that she would call him again the following morning. Things were working out perfectly.

By the time Tom got onto Route 93 heading north out of Boston, he could feel his adrenalin pumping. All kinds of wild thoughts flitted around in his head—mostly of an impure nature. If his wife only knew! A whore she might be in the bedroom, but she was a perfect lady otherwise and not the most open-minded person when it came to taking sexual liberties. As the miles passed however, he thought less and less of what his wife might think and only about playing servant to the demands of a group of strange women. He pushed down on the gas pedal as he remembered the show he had put on last week in front of Esther and her associates. He wondered if she would be there tonight.

Even before he reached the front gate of the Hornsby mansion, his eyes opened wide to take in the sprawling vista before him. Never before had he come face to face with such an imposingly beautiful house. It rose before him like some otherworldly megalith; even in the dark its formidable structure bearing down upon him, making him feel squat and insignificant; reminding him by its very existence that he was only some poor schlep, incapable of ever reaching such exalted heights of power and majesty as exemplified by the occupants within.




He gave his name to the attendant and was admitted inside the front gate. He was told to park in the rear of the butler's quarters and then to enter the mansion through the side entrance that led into the kitchen. The small parking area was almost full with cars as he pulled up into the lot, and he could hear the sounds of people laughing and talking loudly from inside the palatial house. The cars were mostly middle-of-the-road affairs, much like his own modest sedan. He knew that this tiny lot was only for the people who worked at the mansion and wondered where the greater parking area was located—where all the luxurious automobiles with their respective chauffeurs would wait patiently for their cherished cargo to return. Although it was dark, the area behind the house was quite well illuminated, and he imagined that the property probably extended for miles into the inky vastness beyond.

"Well, this is it!" he said to himself, as he rang the buzzer on the side door entrance.

A few moments later a handsome young man of about twenty opened the door and welcomed him in.

"You must be Tom," the boy said, shaking Tom's hand.

"Yes, I am," Tom replied, genially. "How did you know?"

"Everyone else is here already, so I just assumed..."

Tom's face grew dark. "I was told to report here at 9:00 PM. I'm fifteen minutes early."

The boy laughed. "Don't worry about it. The mistress...Ms. Hornsby I mean...she decided to move things up a bit in order to accommodate some celebrities' schedules. She was able to reach everyone by cell phone except you."

"I had it on all the time," Tom said somewhat defensively.

"Relax, Tom," the boy said patting him on the shoulder. It's not a problem. We're in the mountains here. Sometimes the signals get lost. Anyway, most of the guys are locals, so don't sweat it."

The boy, whose name was Jimmy, showed Tom around the kitchen and introduced him to the two dozen or so other men who would be serving the guests. All the guys still had their clothes on.

"I thought we were going to all be in the nude," Tom inquired.

"We are," Jimmy replied. We're just waiting for Ms. Hornsby to give us the word. She should be here shortly."

"Is Esther is here too?"

"Yes, but she prefers to be addressed as Ms. Wallace. We are the hired help after all."

"How many celebrities are there?"

"Actually, quite a few. And some you probably won't recognize. But they're rich and powerful nonetheless. Come on, take a peek."

Jimmy led Tom to the doors leading out from the kitchen into the main dining hall. As he looked through the small pane of glass framed into the upper portion of the door, he saw a mass of people dressed in elegant attire, indulging in conversation with one another.

"That's senator Clinton right there," Jimmy said, pointing to the right. "And there's Ashley and Mary Kate Olsen to her left."

"Holy shit," Tom said under his breath. "That really is Hillary, isn't it?"

"Yup," Jimmy replied. "But those Olsen girls are really beautiful, aren't they?

"I had no idea," Tom said, his eyes transfixed on the sight. "But they're so tiny."

Jimmy agreed. "But there's a lot of talent in those little packages."

The young man pointed out several other famous people to an increasingly anxious Tom, who wondered how he was going to be able to walk around naked in front of this group of luminaries.

"I can't believe we have to parade around in our birthday suits in front of them," he said, turning to Jimmy. "Have you ever done this before?"

Jimmy laughed aloud. "Oh, that's right. They told me that this would be your first time. Yes, I have done this many times. It's really no big deal. After a while they don't even notice you."

"Really?" Tom asked. "Do you mean to say that those women out there have naked guys waiting on them all the time?"

"Many of them do, yes. The women are all part of some greater clandestine organization that I know very little about. All I know is that they throw frequent parties and the guys always serve them in the nude."

Tom looked around the room and spotted a woman he thought he knew. "That's a local politician," he remarked. "I know her. She serves on the same town council as my wife does. Her name is Cheryl Adams."

"That's right," Jimmy said. "You'll find people from all walks of life in this group." Suddenly his face brightened. "Look over there!" he said, pointing to the right. "That's Kelly Ripa and Gwen Stefani with a group of their friends. I really love Kelly. She's just so beautiful. And those legs on Gwen. Awesome man."

Kelly did indeed look ravishing, and Gwen's legs were the most beautiful legs he had ever seen. They seemed to go on forever. Tom could hardly believe the flow of celebrities that were now making their way toward him. Within minutes he had counted no less that over 100 Hollywood stars, all elegantly attired and without exception, beautiful.

The first to enter the dining hall after Kelly and Gwen had been absorbed into the crowd were Teri Hatcher, Drew Barrymore, Carla Bruni, and Kirsten Dunst, all of them looking like they had just walked down the red carpet. This group was followed by an astonishingly lovely Patricia Heaton, a classically gorgeous Brooke Shields, a rapturously beautiful Diane Lane, and Connie Nielsen, with her stunning patrician good looks.

Tom looked on with wonder at the amount of female loveliness before him. He knew that despite his anxiety of appearing nude before these women, his lust would provide him with all the impetus he would need to perform his job well. Even now he felt his cock within his pants start to grow.

"We better get ready," Jimmy advised the enervated Tom. "Ms. Hornsby is right there."

With a nod of his head the young man indicated that the mistress of the mansion was indeed coming their way. Tom caught a brief glimpse of her before walking quickly away from the door. She was tall and imposing, but like all the rest of the women in attendance, quite lovely.

The kitchen door swung open and Tom retreated back a few steps. Ms. Hornsby halted a few feet in front of him and looked him over, then let her gaze rest on Jimmy.

"I want this to go by the book," she told the boy as she adjusted the clasp that held her long auburn hair to one side. "You're in charge of these guys. Make certain they do as they are told. If there are any questions you can defer to me."

"Yes, mistress," the young boy replied refusing to meet her gaze.

"Ms. Wallace told me that you have participated in these affairs many times before, so I expect a high level of professionalism from you and all. Two things: no fawning over the guests and, if required, you will perform for them. Understood?

"Yes, mistress."

Tom looked confused. "Pardon me, Ms. Hornsby," he began. "Perform?"

The mistress gave Tom a rather unconcerned look and turned to Jimmy.

"Educate him. Fast."

And with that she walked over to the chef and his crew to give them further instructions.

"Okay guys," Jimmy said. "Let's get these clothes off and get out there. Just remember to keep your bow ties and your shoes and socks on. You can all change in there."

He pointed to a small room just off the kitchen that was filled with folding chairs. As Tom and the other men entered the room and began to undress, he turned to Jimmy.

"The mistress is not too friendly."

"She's always like that—at least toward men. Wait until she gets drunk. She'll be plenty friendly then."

"What did she mean, 'perform'?"

Jimmy smiled. "Sometimes when the women get really drunk and randy, they like to see the guys masturbate for them. It's not done all the time, but let me tell you, it can get pretty wild when it does."

"It's happened to you?"

"Several times. I mean, come on man. Look at those women. They're all fucking gorgeous right? If they want to watch you jerk off, you do it. No questions asked."

"Have you ever had sex with any of them?"

"No. They never go that far. But they will let you eat them out. And some will jerk you off into their faces. But no fucking from what I've seen."

Tom shook his head numbly as he removed his underwear. He was semi-erect.

"Sorry about that," he said to Jimmy in an apologetic tone. "These women are getting to me already."

"It's okay," Jimmy chuckled. "Look around you. A lot of guys are sporting wood too. The women like it. Just don't touch them unless they want you to, otherwise you'll get yourself fired. The mistress doesn't take any shit from anybody—especially guys."

"No problem. I just want to make people happy, that's all."

"Then you just might end up being the star of this fucking show!" Jimmy said grinning broadly.

Tom laughed and put aside his underwear to put his bow tie on.

"It's show time fellas!" Jimmy shouted. "Man your battle stations!"

Tom was one of several waiters in charge of serving drinks to the guests. Each waiter was assigned a certain quadrant of the main dining hall and they were to provide services only to that particular area. With his silver tray loaded with glasses of champagne, he and his counterparts formed a single line that extended from the kitchen door to the end of the galley. On Jimmy's orders, the men began to file out into the main hall, one after the other, seeking their targeted guests.

It was a completely exhilarating feeling that Tom felt as he felt the collective eyes of the female guests turn their attention to him and the other naked men while they sauntered up to the women with their trays full of champagne. He had never been so close to such illustrious people before and he tried very hard to keep his penis from becoming erect even as he found himself in the midst of such beautiful women.

As he began serving out the champagne, he noticed that many women were openly staring at his cock and making comments. At first he thought these comments might be of a derogatory nature, but as he listened more intently he discovered that his penis was being appraised favorably.

"Nice package on that guy," he overheard Teri Hatcher say to some unknown blonde girl standing beside her.

The girl nodded in agreement and then turned away as if it were something she had often seen before.

To his right, Tom saw Jimmy serving champagne to the Olsen sisters. Jimmy's cock was standing at full attention and the twins giggled loudly as they watched his rather large prick bounce up and down in front of them. At one point he saw Mary Kate reach out her hand and give his cock several tugs. Ashley couldn't stop laughing.

"Ah, there you are!"

Tom looked behind him to find Esther Wallace appreciating his muscular round buttocks.

"Nice ass," she said grinning. "I meant to tell you that the other day but I got sidetracked. How are things going here?"

"Quite well, Ms. Wallace," he replied, offering her a glass of champagne.

She accepted the drink and let her eyes survey the room.

Tom was careful not to address her as "Esther," remembering what Jimmy had told him earlier.

"We have more stars in this room than in the whole Milky Way," she said to no one in particular. "I didn't think they'd all show up."

Esther took one more look around and downed the entire contents of the glass.

"Don't let anyone fool you Thomas," she said handing the glass back to him. "We might appear civilized, but underneath we're all just a bunch of fucking sluts!"

She walked away and into a group of middle-aged women who were admiring the genitals of one of the younger waiters. "I just love young cock!" she shouted to the women as she slapped the boy hard on his ass.

The boy's cock rocked to and fro under the impact of her assault and he retreated behind a stout older woman to avoid another confrontation.

Esther was clearly drunk, and it surprised Tom that she would allow herself to compromise herself in this way, considering the professional demeanor she had displayed during his interview the previous week. He continued to make his rounds until all the drinks had been dispensed and then returned to the kitchen to fulfill some orders.

Ms. Hornsby was walking toward him from the opposite direction when she stopped and grabbed him by the arm. "Just watch where you point that thing!" she said staring at his crotch.

He hadn't even realized it but his penis was almost fully erect. And it wasn't just him. Many of the waiters had grown erections simply from being in the company of so many gorgeous women. The entire room was reeking of feminine scent and he felt as if he were overdosing on pheromones.

"Yes, Ms. Hornsby," he said respectfully, admiring her hard, sumptuous ass as she moved past him into the crowd.

With another tray of alcoholic refreshment on his plate, Tom returned to the group of women he had served earlier and handed them their drinks. This time, Ashley and Mary Kate were there, and both girls smiled as they took in his fully erect penis.

"We're glad to see you too!" Mary Kate said, looking down at his cock and laughing.

Tom thought both girls were quite beautiful, but he was enamored of the more demure of the two—Ashley—and he went so far as to make eye-to-eye contact with the lovely twin.

"You have a really nice body," she said to him.

"Thank you, Ms. Olsen," he replied smiling. "Is there anything more I can do for you?"

"Maybe later," she replied coyly.

He wondered what she meant by that, but she just curled her sexy lips into a faint smile and resumed a conversation she was having with another woman.

Suddenly, from across the room, he heard sounds of a commotion. Everyone turned to look in the direction from which the noise was coming. It seemed that one of the women attending the party had found out that her co-worker, a guy by the name of Richard, but whom she insisted on calling "Dick," was one of the waiters serving her group. He politely informed her and the bunch of women in her immediate circle, that he did not like the name "Dick" and preferred to be called "Richard". Of course she would have none of that and continued to call him "Dick". His continual protests only aggravated matters until all the women began addressing him as "Dick." The laughter began coming in steady and unrelenting waves.

"Dick is a great name," Carla Bruni told him. "After all you have a huge one. It makes sense!"

"You wouldn't want to call that big thing 'Richard' would you?" Drew asked him. "A big penis deserves to be called 'Dick'. It's much more suitable."

"But I don't like it," he protested. "My name is Richard."

Hillary put her arm around his shoulder and took in the area around his crotch. "No, your name is 'Dick'. Your name is 'Dick' because you have a really fucking big dick, 'Dick'!"

It was true. Richard had an enormous appendage. It guessed it to be at least a foot long or more. And his balls were equally big and distended.

"My name is Richard, Ms. Clinton," he shouted over their laughter. "Richard! Do you hear?"

Upon seeing this lowly waiter attempt to assert his authority over her, Hillary and the other women let out a long jeer. He cowered, suddenly realizing that he was naked and surrounded by a group of very formidable women.

"I say your name is 'Dick,'" said Hillary, grabbing at his protruding cock.

The horrified waiter dropped his tray. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to jerk you off in front of all these women right now," she said laughing in his face.

"Oh, my God!" Richard exclaimed. "No, you can't!"

"Yes, I can," she said fisting his big pole with relish. "I want to see everything you have stored up in those huge fucking balls of yours. And so does everyone else!"

The entire room was in an uproar. It was something out of a wet dream.

"I want you to say your name for everyone to hear," Hillary demanded of the young man. "Go ahead. My name is..."

"Richard," he replied, moaning as she stroked his stiff meat with great fervor.

"No!" she yelled, slapping his ball sac.

Richard cried out in pain and reached for his cock.

"I'll give you another chance," Hillary said to him. "If you insist on disobeying me, I'll crush you nuts to dust! Do you understand?"

Richard was helpless to do anything but submit to her will. He knew that he could not fight off a roomful of women, even if he did manage to escape the crazed politician's clutches.

"Now," she resumed, as she once again took his huge prick in her hands and began to sensually jerk him off. "What is your name?"

"Ah, it's a...a..."

"Tell me you little son of a bitch!"

She continued stroking him up and down, up and down, seeing the telltale sign of pre-cum forming on the tip of his penis.

"Say it," she insisted. "Say it!"

"Oh, God," he cried out as her hands moved up and down his shaft with increasing speed.

"Say it or I'll..."

Her hands were now a blur on his expanding cock. The women all watched on in gleeful anticipation as he was driven to the point of orgasm.

"I love watching guys cum," Mary Kate laughed.

Ashley said nothing. But I saw her run her tongue over her lips, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene.

"Your name is...?" Hillary roared.

"Dick!" he screamed, as the first spurt of hot white cream shot out of his tortured prick.

Upon hearing him say this, Hillary put all her force into the handjob, demanding every last ounce of sperm from him. 'Dick' did not disappoint.

As Hillary pulled upward on his shaft, an enormous volley of thick, white love juice sailed out into the crowd of astonished onlookers. I watched in amusement as the pasty offering flew high up into the air, cascading in huge downward bursts of pearly nectar that soared over the heads of Teri, the Olsen girls, and even Drew, who was standing a good fifteen feet away. The stringy ejaculate finally found its way onto the dress of Esther Wallace, who recoiled at the sight of it.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she screamed aloud, dropping her drink. "You're at it again aren't you Hillary?"

Hillary was too busy to pay Esther any attention as the next round of explosive climaxes overtook her victim.

I counted at least twelve separate and distinct ejaculations, most of which shot out a great distances, raining down upon heads, torsos, and other inanimate objects. The floor in front of Richard was coated with semen, some even splashing onto Hillary herself as she assiduously continued to masturbate him until she was satisfied that he had been completely drained of his sperm. It was the most intense and sexually stimulating handjob I had ever seen a woman give a man. By the time the last dying spurt of cum had been ejected, Dick had to sit down to recuperate.

Wiping the sperm from her hands and bowing to a tremendous round of applause, Hillary turned to Richard and asked: "What is your name?"

A weary Richard lifted his head and, sadly admitting his defeat, replied: "Dick".

The crowd gave Hillary another round of applause.

"She gave a really great handjob," Mary Kate said to her sister. "How could her husband even think of cheating on her with talent like that?"

"I know," Ashley agreed. "Did you see the load he shot out? I had to dodge it several times or I would have gotten soaked!"

"Me too," Mary Kate said, looking at the sperm-covered floor not more than a few feet from where she stood.

"I can't wait until we get them all to shoot off at the same time," Ashley said, giving Tom a quick glance.

"We're going to need our umbrellas if they're anything like Mr. Dick here," Mary Kate replied with a grin.

Tom's cock was throbbing over what he had just seen. And the Olsen girls' remarks only served to excite him even more. He excused himself and made for the bathroom. There was nothing to do but to relieve the tension in his balls. He passed through the kitchen and into an outer hall that led to the servant's quarters. There he found the bathroom, but it was already occupied.




"I have to go real bad," he said to the door.

"Is that you, Tom?"

It was Esther's voice.

"Ah, yes," he replied. "I have to go."

"I'll be right out," she answered back. "I'm just cleaning off the rest of that damn sperm from my dress. That Clinton bitch always has to get her hands into things. She can never wait her turn like the rest of us. Always has to be first. Little cunt."

In less than a minute she had finished what she was doing and opened the door.

"Well, look at you!" she laughed. "Jerking off on the job?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Wallace. I got so turned on out there that I just have to get rid of this hard-on."

"Don't you dare!" she said sternly. "Now you go right back out there. If you want to get rid of your sperm, you'll do it for everyone to see. Go ahead. Move!"

Taking him by the arm, she led him quickly out of the kitchen and back into the main hall. By now everyone was settling down to take part in the buffet. He could relax for a few moments before he had to start taking drink orders.

"Hey, what's shaking bro?"

Tom turned sideways to see a very tall and muscular black man standing beside him. He recognized him as one of the waiters he had not been introduced to earlier. The man offered Tom his hand.

"Tom. Glad to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. My name is Johnny Appleseed."

Tom tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh. "You're joking right?"

"No, man, I'm serious. That's my name."

"Appleseed?" Tom chuckled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"No problem bro," Johnny replied. "Most people react that way when they hear my name."

"Well, it is unusual."

"Yes, it is. But then again, I'm not your usual type of guy. Catch you later bro!"

Tom glanced down at this counterpart's penis. Even flaccid, it seemed longer than his at full erection. He wondered what it was that gave black men such a distinct advantage over white guys in this area. He could only surmise the answer as he watched

Johnny disappear into the crowd, carrying his serving tray up high about his head while a bevy of women watched his long tool sway back and forth with each step.

The line to the buffet table was long. Tom had to wait, as did all the other waiters, until people began to take their seats before he could take their orders for drinks. His penis had begun to subside now, and he was grateful for it. Although he enjoyed being the object of many women's wayward gaze, he could now concentrate on the job at hand without his penis getting in the way of his duties. Not that the women minded. They didn't. In fact, he had already had several solicitations to masturbate himself for their viewing pleasure. But he had been warned by Ms. Wallace not to masturbate unless explicitly instructed by either her or Ms. Hornsby. To fail to do this would result in his immediate dismissal.

As the people in his quadrant began to take their seats, Tom went around taking their orders. It seemed that the woman at this point cared more about their food than the naked men around them. Jimmy had told him that he shouldn't get too complacent; because once the women had had their fill of food their attention would then be directed to the naked waiters. Jimmy was almost certain there was something "big" going on, as he put it. What "big" meant, Tom could only guess.

Once all the drinks had been served to the guests, Tom and the other waiters took ten minutes to relax and enjoy a quick meal in the kitchen. As soon as they had finished eating, he and the waiters once more returned to satisfying the insatiable thirst of their patrons. He watched in awe as some of the women gulped down what seemed to him to be extremely inordinate amounts of liquor. By now almost all of the women were in various stages of inebriation. Only Ms. Hornsby, keeping a strict eye on the proceedings, did not partake in the liquid frenzy. She hovered about the room like an eagle supervising her young—forbidding and ready to pounce should she discover any breach of etiquette from any of her servants in the pursuit of making her guests happy.

It was now close to midnight and Ms. Wallace stood up before the audience of drunken women and called for their attention.

"I told you she would come ladies!" she began enthusiastically.

The crowd roared their approval.

"The leader of the New England chapter of our beloved Sisterhood is here. She just flew in from New York City— little tired perhaps, but ready to rock and roll. Let's all give it up for our Sister Marie!"

With these words the entire crowd stood up and applauded. Tom could see nothing from his vantage point at the rear of the hall so he simply poured himself a drink and took a quick swig while no one was looking. It took several minutes but eventually the women once again took their seats. His eyes searched for the woman Ms. Wallace had introduced and found "Marie" sitting with her back toward him facing Ms. Wallace. He wondered who this person could be, but was restrained from moving from his territory for fear of reprimand.

Once all the people had finished their dinner, Jimmy gave Tom a heads up as to what was now going to transpire. The young man seemed quite excited.

"I just got the word from the mistress," he told Tom. "Get yourself ready man. Get that thing primed."

He said this while pointing at Tom's still flaccid tool.

"Why? What's happening?"

"Don't know exactly, but the mistress wants all the guys up there on the dais where Sister Marie is sitting. Come on. Let's go."

With Jimmy pulling on his arm, Tom and the other waiters quickly made their way onto the elevated platform at the far end of the room. Johnny Appleseed was right in front of them, and as they passed one table Patricia Heaton called out: "Hey Johnny Appleseed! How much seed do have in those apples?"

The laughter was deafening.

Once all the waiters had found their way to the dais, Ms. Wallace again addressed the audience. Tom struggled to see whom this woman "Marie" was, but without his glasses he could only make out a blurred outline. In addition, she wore a very large black hat and had dark glasses on, making it difficult to discern her features even from a distance of less than twenty feet.

"Now ladies," Ms. Wallace began, her voice slurred from too many drinks. "I told you we were going to have some very special entertainment tonight and I am a person who keeps her word!"

Another roar of applause and cheers greeted her words.

"In honor of our Sister Marie being promoted to head of our Sisterhood chapter, we are going to have a cock jerking party! All of these handsome and very well hung men are going to give up their precious hot seed for the amusement of all of you! What do you think of that?"

It seemed to Tom that the room was going to implode under the deafening roar of the wildly excited crowd. As he stood there in his socks, shoes, and bow tie overlooking the laughing and jeering crowd of some 200 women, he felt a surge of lust overcome him that was so powerful that his cock began to swell—and not only his cock, but almost every other guy standing naked on that platform. To his right stood Jimmy; to his left, Johnny. Both men were quite erect. But where Jimmy's tool was only a mere five or so inches in length, Johnny's super-sized organ jutted out over a good foot. And it was solid muscle too, not hanging down semi-erect like some other well-endowed specimens he had seen in adult films. He envied the big black man but continued to smile at the audience even as they greeted him and the other men with the most lewd and nasty sexual remarks that he had ever heard.

Tom was thankful that he had kept his body in good shape over the years. He was better looking than most of the two-dozen guys standing on the platform with him, and his physique could rival anything in the muscle magazines. His penis, too, was quite attractive in shape, even though he was not as endowed as some of the other men.

As he looked at the faces of the women lustily looking over the prized male flesh, he recognized a slew of beauties whose faces had graced the pages of all the major fashion and entertainment magazines. Some of them were relics of yesteryear who had still retained enough of their beauty to keep them in the fashion limelight. Others were much younger; girls barely out of their teens whose long, lean and ethereal looks had found their way onto the front pages of Cosmopolitan and Vogue. Then there were the actresses. He knew them all. Alicia, Marissa, Charlize, Jennifer, Kim, Alyssa...and many more.

But to his great astonishment, he spotted several well known musicians in the group. Besides Gwen, whom he had seen earlier, he found Madonna, Britney, Sheryl, Miriah, Beyonce...a veritable who's who of the distaff side of the music industry now bent over in laughter as they stood watching him and the other waiters awaiting dispensation from the venerable Ms. Hornsby. He knew that he would be called upon to perform for these women, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon. He found out later that all the Sisterhood events always ended in such a spectacle. The Sisters were a group of women whose cult was based upon the supremacy of the female species. They delighted in turning the tables on the men who so callously had used them in the past for their own selfish pleasure. Now it was the women who would be in control, and the men would be their playthings. He found the idea of it extremely enticing.

Ms. Hornsby walked in front of all the men, performing a cursory examination to make sure that each of them was sporting an erection. She gave Tom a generous once over as she passed him, stopping briefly to watch in amusement as his prick did a little dance for her not more than a few feet from her face.

"Watch out," Teri said to the mistress of the mansion. "It might spit up on you!"

Once Ms. Hornsby had made certain that all the men were fully erect, she commanded them to begin masturbating. The women went completely wild.

Up to this point the guests had maintained their distance from the men, but now, seeing the guys starting to stroke their cocks, they surged forward in an effort to get a better view. Standing right in front of Tom stood both Ashley and Mary Kate, laughing right along with all the other women. Because of their diminutive size, they were allowed to stand in the front so that they could see without their view being blocked.

"Are any of you guys big shooters?" asked Gwen, who was admiring Johnny's huge prick.

All the guys raised their hands at once.

"Holy shit," Mary Kate exclaimed. "I think we're going to get soaked!"

"So what," Drew said. "Let's get soaked!"

"I'm not moving," Ashley said, watching Tom with great fascination as he pulled hard on his excited tool.

He felt as if he were in a dream. The singularly absurd idea that he and a bunch of nude men were standing on a stage jerking off in front of a group of rich, powerful, and beautiful women was almost too much for his mind to accept. Yet this is what he wanted. Every choice he had made in the past year was a deliberate attempt to get himself to this point: to expose his naked body for the enjoyment of dominating women. And now he had achieved that goal. As he stared into the beautiful face of Ashley Olsen, he felt a tremendous surge of lust overtake him. He imagined his cock driving in and out of her luscious lips, her mouth accepting with great relish the entire length of him—swallowing, releasing, tensing, teasing—her hands caressing his bulging testicles until his volatile sperm was forced up though his stiff prick, splashing its contents into the back of her throat. He wanted to possess her but, knowing he never could, it made his performance for her all the more exciting for him. Every time she and her sister paused to share a secret joke, every time she made some lewd remark, every time she laughed at his and the other men's predicament, his lust grew more intense.

Some of the women were now exposing their breasts and asses to the men in order to encourage them to ejaculate. Madonna was one of the first to do so, pulling down her blouse to expose her lovely set of firm tits. She even took one man's cock and placed it between her breasts, jerking it up and down until the tip of his organ became all frothy with pre-cum.

"Foaming at the mouth!" the Material Girl laughed as she continued to milk the waiter's huge schlong with both her boobs.

Another waiter on Tom's far right was already shooting his load. He didn't remember his name, but the man was a rather small, but powerfully built, Latino with a really huge cock. Teri and Drew were holding a champagne glass in front of his prick just as it began to spew and both women laughed as the first jet of cream flew entirely over their heads and into the crowd behind them.

"In the glass for Christ's sake!" Teri shouted over the din. "Get your fuck juice in the glass!"

The Latino man tried his best to aim his prick downward into the glass but most of his substantial offering splashed over the women's hands.

And then Tom heard a cry of joy as Madonna's tits were being covered with spunk. The first shot of cum went straight up in the air and landed right on the singer's hair. Heedless of this, she masturbated the waiter furiously, sending spurt after creamy spurt shooting several feet up into the air, most of it landing right back down on her tits. The crowd was ecstatic.

"Will someone please get me a fucking towel!" she laughed as she pulled the remaining sperm from the waiter's now spent tool.

From behind him Tom heard the sound of chairs being moved, and he turned in time to see Sister Marie rise and walk across the dais accompanied by Ms. Wallace. Something about Marie was beginning to confound him. She somehow looked familiar.

He followed the Sister's movements intensely, hoping that she would take off her hat and glasses. In a few moments she and Ms. Wallace were standing several rows back in the crowd observing the spectacle. She had chosen to stand at the opposite end of the dais from where Tom stood, making it impossible for him to make out her features.

One of the girls in the front suddenly pointed to Jimmy's prick. He was starting to cum.

With a howl the young man thrust his hips forward and pointed his big cock right at Kirstin Dunst. The young actress threw up her hands to cover her face. She need not have worried. The first stringy rope of semen flew several feet over her head and landed in the hair of Gwen Stefani. The sultry singer let out a yelp, feeling the sticky cum drip down from where it had hit her on the forehead.

"I'm getting baptized!" Gwen cried. "Help!"

Jimmy's cock was completely out of control as he launched volley after volley of hot sticky sperm into the crowd. Ashley and Mary Kate were laughing so hard that they were barely able to keep themselves from falling down. Many of the other women were in the same condition: drunk and overcome with laughter to the point where they just didn't care where the sperm was landing as long as the guys kept shooting off. And this the men did, with great gusto.

Tom didn't know where to look first. So many cocks were now firing their loads at the same time that the few feet of distance separating the men from the crowd was literally awash with sperm. He saw a multitude of celebrities getting hit with rope after rope of randy spunk. One of the women—Alicia Silverstone—so drunk that she could barely stand up, stuck her open mouth directly in front of one of the waiter's spouting dicks, eagerly swallowing the hot jets of cream like she was dying of thirst. Tom could barely believe what he was seeing.

The two men to the left of Jimmy were now ejaculating. Their loads ascending up into the air before the eyes of the excited crowd, and soaring a good ten feet before making contact with some women in the third row. Patricia Heaton, not content to just continue to stand and watch, took both pricks in her hands and forced an immense release of sperm into the air, the huge white arcs of paste finding their way into the jeering faces of the lust-ridden crowd. She milked both men relentlessly until she had completely relieved them of their sperm, then walked back into the crowd to the accompaniment of a wild round of applause.

Tom's entire body was now priming itself for the release of his own creamy fluids. Ashley and Mary Kate were standing only five feet away from him, watching intently now that he was on the verge of ejaculating.

"Give us your cum," Ashley screamed over the relentless din. "I want to see it!"

Mary Kate only laughed and made some rude gesture with her open fist.

But wait. Johnny Appleseed was now beginning to shoot his load. Tom stared down at the big black prick as Johnny's hand brought it to the point of no return. Seeing the first jet of semen shot out from the black man's cock, Tom held back and waited for the waiter's orgasm to subside. He waited and waited and waited.

If there was anything more entertaining for a woman to behold, it was a penis that did not know when to stop ejaculating. As long as the cum wasn't getting on them, women really enjoyed seeing guys blow immense loads of cum into the air, sometimes making a game of trying to count all the spurts. Johnny just happened to be one of these guys who could continue to cum for well up to a minute and he was doing so right now. Screaming like a wild animal, Johnny's entire body went rigid as his huge tool shot out multiple spurts of cum into the air. Tom had to laugh as he watched the women's eyes follow each and every creamy trajectory as it made its way into the expectant group of fascinated onlookers.

Carla Bruni was the first to get splashed, a long jet of cum ending up in her thickly coffered hair. Even as she was wiping away the first glob of sperm, two other gooey blasts followed, striking her a second time on the left cheek while the other volley splashed into Liv Tyler's open mouth. The lovely brunette spit the cum back out to the immense enjoyment of her friends, who laughed heartily at her predicament.

The semen continued to shoot out of Johnny's prick, each hard stroke of his hand bringing forth yet another creamy ejaculation. By the time the final shot of sperm had been fired, Tom had counted no less than thirty cum shots—all of which had made contact with the group of women directly in front of Johnny. Despite their skin and clothes getting soiled with ejaculate, the women did not seem to mind and demanded to see more.

Tom realized that he was now the only remaining man who had yet to cum. All eyes in the room were now focused on him and he felt totally exhilarated. This would be his defining moment. If he could entertain these women even half as well as Johnny had just did, then he could be assured of continued employment in the CFNM-based world of these celebrity Sisters. As he stared down into Ashley's lovely blue eyes, her blonde hair flowing down around her spectacularly beautiful face, he knew that he would have no problem giving these women a great show. He would make them proud of him. He would give them something to remember.

The crowd took up a chant: "Shoot it baby! Shoot it baby!"

Now, as his orgasm was approaching, he saw the black hat that belonged to Sister Marie move quickly through the crowd followed by Ms. Wallace. There seemed to be some commotion resulting in the wake of her passage through the wildly cheering audience but he could make no sense of it. All he knew was that she was drawing closer to him even as he was drawing closer to orgasm.

And then it hit him: the most intense surge of pleasure he had ever experienced in his life—and every woman's eye focused on the little slit atop his engorged pole.

"Oh, my God!" he screamed, as he thrust his upper body forward.




Even as he felt the first jet of hot cream exit his prick, he saw the immense black hat come into view directly facing him about three rows back. The glasses were off now and he gasped in delight as his creamy offering shot out over the heads of Ashley and Mary Kate and headed straight for Sister Marie. The woman's face registered both shock and amusement as the huge burst of milky cum hit her square in the face. It was a one-in-a-million shot.

"You!" the newly christened Sister shouted to Tom. "You son of a bitch!"

Tom could just barely make out the Sister's features. He squinted hard in an attempt to see the features of the woman who had insulted him, even as he sent multiple volleys of sperm into the audience, several of which hit Ashley and Mary Kate directly in the face. Both girls erupted into gales of laughter as they sought to evade the milky onslaught, but it was useless. The sperm continued to shoot out at an incredible rate, saturating the clothes of any person within several feet of the exploding dick.

Teri, Drew, Angelina...all were hit with Tom's errant and powerful spray. Scores more were also bathed in his abundant sperm shower. But now, as his dick was preparing to unleash its final load, Sister Marie fought her way to the front of the crowd, her hat off and her features clearly visible to him. The face he now recognized made him react with both surprise and horror, and he fell backwards even as he launched a tremendous load of sperm high into the air—his final coup de grace.

"Oh, my God! It's you!" he blurted out between clenched teeth.

He was reeling. The utter depravity of what he was doing and the blissful pleasure he had derived from doing it made him feel both shameful and enervated at the same time. And now, as his cock was expending its final offering of sperm, he fell back onto the men standing behind him, his every nerve on edge. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, before him, stood his wife Abigail in all her radiant beauty—her hair and face still bearing traces of his sperm.

He stood in awe as he beheld her glowering face, seeing her mouth forming words but unable to hear anything she said over the roar of the crowd. Yes, the crowd. They had embraced him and were now cheering him for his remarkable performance. Even Ms. Hornsby was applauding him. It all seemed surreal. Suddenly the room seemed very small. He felt a pang of nausea and tried to reach out to his wife to explain, but...she had some explaining to do herself didn't she? The screams grew deafening, the faces before him became indistinct...and then he felt himself weightless, floating outside normal time and space. The world was now a tiny speck on an inky black ocean dipping below the vanishing point of the horizon. He reached out to that diminishing point and fell silently into oblivion.


When he awoke, Tom found himself in his own bed. The light of the late day sun filtered through his bedroom window and it was raining. He looked at the clock. It was 7:15 PM. Abigail was in the next room. He could hear her whistling loud and clear.

"Abby?" he called out. "Abby, please come in here."

Suddenly the whistling stopped and he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. Within seconds his wife appeared before him, standing nonchalantly at the door.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"I have a splitting headache but otherwise I'm fine. What the hell happened to me?"

Abigail sat down beside him on the bed and brushed the hair back from his face. "You passed out. It's a good thing that Johnny was there to catch you."

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"You've been asleep for about 12 hours. I think you should get up. We have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, we do."

Tom took a long shower and then had something to eat. He was starting to feel better but he could not get the images of last night's spectacle out of his mind. He wondered what his wife now thought of him and if he had put his marriage at risk. He wondered, too, how she was going to account for her actions. He had lied to her, but then she had lied to him too. If accusations and blame were on the menu, then both of them would have their fill.

"Why didn't you tell me about your fixation with CFNM?" she asked him as they both sat opposite each other on the couch.

"Because I was afraid that you would think less of me," he replied.

"I would have thought more of you if you had told me the truth."

"I wanted to. Many times. But it was easier to keep things to myself. I know, or should I say, I knew how conservative you were about anything sexually deviant, so there's your answer. I was afraid of losing you."

Abigail smiled and moved closer to him. "I owe you a big apology. I should have come clean with you too. I'm just as guilty. I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

"How long have you been involved with the Sisterhood?"

" A few years. I'm sorry, Tom. I should never have keep it a secret from you."

Tom sighed softly. "Look Abigail. Everyone has secrets. And no one, I don't care how much you love someone, ever reveals every secret about themselves. You're always going to keep some part of you forever closed off from others. We were trying to protect ourselves from one another, but little did we know how much we really had in common."

"I know," she confessed. "We're both sexual deviants!"

Tom and his wife laughed aloud and she threw her arms around him. "I will quit the Sisterhood if it's going to put our marriage at risk. You tell me."

"No," Tom replied, kissing his wife full on the mouth. "I have no objection to your being a member of that organization. How could I? They want to hire me for their next party!"

"That's right! Esther told me last night that you, Jimmy and Johnny are all invited to their next event."


"Yup. It seems you guys made quite an impression on Ms. Hornsby. She's still getting calls from all the guests who were there last night."

Tom looked pleased, remembering the look on Ashley's face as his first spurt of cum sailed over her head. "And when is this next event going to be?"

"Next Paris, France!"

"Holy shit! Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am dear husband. I hear there's this really fantastic French woman...well, actually she's an American from LA, but she married a French nobleman, who has this unbelievably huge estate just outside of Paris, and they hold all the international Sisterhood meetings there. They tell me there's always something wild going on in the mansion. Lots of CFNM parties, masturbation contests, you name it—on a much bigger scale than the party you performed at last night. A ton of celebrities always hanging around... I think we'll both have a wonderful time. Her name is Phoebe Anjou..."