Schlongue Part Twelve

Dinner with three strange women and my wife was pretty interesting. My wife again made a date with a strange man, and informed the three women that I was their entertainment for the evening, that they could do with me what they liked, Wink - Wink.

When she stood to leave with her lover of the evening, she smiled at the women and then pointedly said to me, “Honey, remember our rules? Make sure you take very good care of these three ladies. See you in the morning about 9:00? I’ll be at the Hotel tonight again.” She leaned over to one of the women and whispered something into her ear. The lady immediately broke out into a broad grin. My wife looked at me with that perfect smile and winked as she sashayed away, her arm in the crook of tonight’s lucky lover. Did this sexy woman ever slow down?

I started to puzzled out what I could and couldn’t do this evening. The rules had severe penalties if I broke them, after all. ‘So…let’s see. I can’t cum, because she won’t be there to tell me I can. But I have to take care of all three of these obviously horney women.’ The two sitting on either side of me were already putting their hands on my thighs. Yep, and there is the foot in my crotch from the lady across the table. I surrendered by spreading my legs so they could each compete for me in their own way. I put my arms on the top of the booth we were sitting in and they snuggled up. My cock, wrapped under me as my wife desired, and attached to my belt behind, was a bit of a mystery to their enquiring hands and foot.

My balls were on the left side tonight, so the lady on my left played with them; a bit too roughly I might add. I think she thought they were my cock. Reasonable assumption if you aren’t married to my wife. Might be a very long night, the way things were going.

I finally suggested we take a walk down the beach a ways. There was still quite a bit of light from the retiring sun. They all grabbed their purses and hurriedly scooted out of their seats.

When we were on the beach they all shed their shoes. Then one of them took off her top, and that was all it took for them to all get naked. To me, they were all a seven to eight ranking on a scale of ten.

They stood thee with their fists on their hips, looked at me and, together said “Well?”

So, remembering that my wife could cut my cock off if she wanted, and knowing that she would probably talk to at least one of the women tomorrow, I invited them to help me strip. Three sets of hands fumbling with my clothes was kind of comical. They were really confused when they discovered my cock ring and attachment to my belt. But when John swung free, they all twittered and cooed. I could see them again assessing whether or not they could accept him.

Remembering that I had to keep them happy, I pulled all of them into my arms with a group hug. We watched the vanishing glow of the sunset as three hands took advantage of their closeness to touch him. I reciprocated by putting my hands on two breasts, gently rotating my finger around their nipples. My body responded instantly. I had some hope of consummation. So I said “Let’s go back to my room. It is going to be cool soon.”

One of the women had a better idea. So we all decided to go to her hotel room. They all grabbed something as we walked toward her room. Only one had a hold of my hand. My ass cheeks were being caressed by two hands. All three kept glancing furtively down at Big John. We collected clothing wherever we found it.

With his renewed girth, John was complaining loudly to me about the ache under the cock ring.

So here I am, I’m walking toward an unknown location with three women, highly competitive women at that, women that clearly have designs on my body. I have a very uncomfortable feeling about the upcoming activities.

As we sauntered along, hand in hand/cheeks in hands, I looked sideways at my three companions. The lady holding my hand was obviously in great shape. Her legs looked like she could run ten miles before breakfast. Her breasts, butt and stomach are flat, more muscle than shape. I decided that she may well be an aerobics instructor. Her hair color is the same in both places, always a good sign. I decided that she will outlast the other two, simply because of her ability to gut things out.

The lady clutching my left cheek has an average pair of hooters, slightly saggy, yet still firm enough to bounce while she walks. Her stomach has a slight pooch, but not enough to jiggle. Her hips and legs are her best features. The legs were very well shaped, and very long. I suspect that two or three orgasms will be enough for one night. How do I just know these things? Not from my very brief marital experience for sure! Must be my intuition. I decide to track reality versus my budding intuition.

The lady handling my right cheek has obviously already had at least one child. She has slightly visible stretch marks around her plump breasts that mar her seamless tan. But she has a real bounce to her walk that makes her breasts bounce saucily as we walk along. The sway of her hips suggests to me she resorts to frequent masturbation when she has no lover. She seems like the one that is most free about her sexuality. She licks her lips in anticipation as I watch her gaze inquisitively at Big John out of the corner of her eye.

The walk to her hotel is too short. Too soon I am watching her unlock her hotel room door. She beckons us inside. We make busy work by folding our clothes after shaking the sand out while standing on her balcony. It is dark, because she has not turned on the balcony light. I feel three hands on my butt as I bend over to lay my clothing on the table. One hand darts furtively down and runs surreptitiously under my sack. The hand then rudely checks out my ball size.

I stand back up and head back into the hotel room. Three pair of breasts follow me. ‘Stretch’ turns on a dim table light across the room from the bed. The three women confer briefly in nervous, giggly conspiratorial whispers, all three watching me out of the corner of their eyes while they whisper back and forth. I could hear snippets, like “..monster…”, “…sex slave…”, “…who first?”, and “…stretch that far…”.

So I asked “Anybody for a game of cards?”

That got their attention and seemed to break the ice. One last giggly glance at each other, and they marched single file over to me.

Stretch breaks the ice. “Lie down on the bed, on your stomach. Keep your legs over the edge of the bed.”

They all tittered nervously as I did what they told me without questioning it. Again three hands on my cheeks, but this time they separated my cheeks and began a manual investigation of my asshole. Two different hands poking at me. Don’t ask! I have NO idea why that was what they wanted to play with first.
“A little lubrication would probably make that a little easier” I suggested, try ing to be helpful. Only one pair of hands disappeared. But soon they were back and I could hear the contents of the tube being distributed to each. Sure enough, cold slick fingers soon were sliding in with no resistance. Within seconds there was again eight fingers inside me, and they began to stretch me open. Someone inserted their hand. I could feel the swell of their thumb, and the smallness of their wrist on the outside of their hand.

Sounded like Stretch again. “Look, his anus can take my fist without even stretching very much!”

One hand drops to my testicles. They were pulled back and down, as though to see their unfurled size.

Another set of hands tugged at John, also pulling him back and up between my legs.

Stretch again, “How big are you?”

“Six foot nine inches, two hundred forty pounds.”
Her voice was devoid of humor now. “No silly, this monster schlongue of yours, how big is it?”

“I can’t tell you. I have never been measured.”

“I’ve got a measuring tape in my sewing kit, I’ll get it.” The hands disappear from within me.

I feel the cool smoothness of a vinyl tape being held down his length. “Turn him over and measure it while he’s lying on his back.”
‘Oh good! Now I will be able to see who is doing what to me!’

Stretch grabs my cock head and vigorously pulls John toward my chest as Pooch again measures me. “Eighteen and a half inches. Pull harder, there, nineteen and a quarter from his stomach to the tip. We need to get him hard so we can measure how big around he is.”

Stretch again, “First measure him from the base of his balls to the tip. That is how you are supposed to measure a cock, right?” She looks at Teach for affirmation.

Teach reaches over and pulls John vertical. “Measure him like this first, then let’s measure him the other way. Let’s see which is longer.” She looked at me. “Raise and spread your legs so that we have better access to it.” she commands me.

They all finally agree that I am just under twenty inches. Then they confer on how to get me hard. They reject the idea of sucking on me because nobody’s mouth is that big. They discard several other ideas, then hit on the idea of tickling him. They search through Stretches suitcase until they find a soft camisole. They start tickling him with the fabric. The result is not satisfactory.

“Use your hands” I suggest.

Without hesitation six hands fondle my shaft, my balls, and my bulging glans. “Look at his cock ring. Look how it makes his schlongue head bulge out and .. wow!... look how small the ring is in comparison to his shaft . That must really pinch! Shit! Look at that rock in his ring!”

I finally appear to be erect enough for them to finish their job. Stretch and Teach continue to fondle John while Pooch measures at various locations on the shaft, and a then final measurement around his bulging head. By now John is beginning to pulsate. They agree that the largest diameter is fourteen inches. They also agree that the largest diameter is around his forehead.

Another conference. It turns into an inter-woman bitching session. “How are we supposed to get that damn thing into us?” and, “No way I could stretch that far” and, “God! That thing will split me!” comes from their huddle.

“Let’s poke him with a pin, so he will go down” proposes Teach.