Simone

Simone Comes Home

"It's perfectly alright, dear." Clarice says, rises slightly from her reclining position in the patio chair. She's looking towards the open sliding glass doors where a young woman I recognize as her niece, Simone, stands clutching a small travel case.

I watch Simone's expression as her eyes scan the scene of her aunt and I in our lounge chairs with our afternoon cocktails and, reclining across from us, a thirty something male of whom Clairice had insisted 'You simply must see him. He's absolutely delicious!' It's unclear from Simone's expression whether she would agree with her aunt on that; there being, perhaps, a bit too much information presented on the subject for her to process on the fly, having just walked in on us unexpectedly.

"CiCi," Simone says rather blankly, her brows knitted, her eyes scanning from her aunt to the male who reclines in the chair across from us, then to me, then back again to "CiCi," she repeats "what are you..."

"Sorry if we startled you dear." Clairice says soothingly. "Your mother said you weren't due back till Tuesday and so we could..." she breaks off, noting as I do that Simone's gaze has strayed now quite intently back to the male who...

"Ah, fuck." he sighs softly and takes his hand away from the erect penis he's been languidly stroking for Clairice and I as we relax and decide what further use, if any, we want to make of him.

It is, to give Clairice her due, a fairly delicious penis; large without being carnivalesque, circumcised to display a prominent, bulbous head and paired with - I affirm my appraisal again as he moans and rolls his pelvis up and under to better display or, as my internal narrator prefers to see it, 'offer' - a set of large and entertainingly responsive balls I have enjoyed watching as they periodically lift upwards and separate, stretching the scrotum tight across the root of his cock, or relax back down to hang more loosely as he varies the stimulation applied to the penis.

The male's response tells me he interprets Simone and her arrival as a welcome and exciting (certainly to him) addition to the number of women potentially interested in making use of him. As to the particulars of that display, it is a conditioned response for a male in service; it hardly requires 'training' it is such a reflexive and pleasurable act for them to display their eagerness and plead for the privilege of serving any woman or group of women by offering up their balls in this way. The form of the display will vary depending upon the position of the male at the time, but offering the balls is a confession of vulnerability and submission.

I find myself torn between my own conditioned pleasure response at seeing a well hung male submit this way; the visceral twinge of arousal and entitlement it triggers to see the strong thighs spread wide, the feet planted firmly to lift the hips, the tight clench of his ass as he strains to curl the pelvis under to lift and offer his balls; and my realization that a young woman not (to my knowledge at least) acclimated or conditioned as I am, walking in unexpectedly on a naked and erect male masturbating might not have a similar reaction when, rather than 'covering up' or taking some other socially expected 'evasive' action at being 'discovered in a compromising position' (oh, the glories of polite euphemism!), the male instead moans "Ah fuck!" and... you get the picture (I restrain my narrative urges, for all I might enjoy describing it for you again).

I don't want to offend Simone's sexual sensibilities. But, on the other hand, just look at him. If Simone's unexpected arrival is going to interfere with or restrain my use and enjoyment of that, of him, I will be deeply disappointed.

"Really, dear, it's perfectly fine." Clairice says. "I mean, I've told both you and your mother that I occasionally..."

"Yeah." Simone says distractedly, her brows still knitted in either consternation or bemusement, "But I thought you were just..." she shakes her head slightly as if trying to clear it.

"What? Just joking?" Clairice asks with a laugh, but it is an uneasy laugh. "Why on earth would I joke about something like that?" clears her throat. "Like this?" she tries to seem unruffled, but I can see that slight wince as she continues in a more apologetic tone; "I mean, it isn't a complete surprise, is it? I always try to be open, with family especially. I don't like secrets and..."

"Yeah," Simone waves this away with a weak sweep of her free hand, "you always say that. But I guess I... uhnm." She tilts her head slightly to one side, her gaze fixed between the wide spread legs of the male. "So, this is really..." she frowns and her eyes swing back now to her aunt, "what you do." she finishes.

I can't read her. She hasn't fainted or run away, but her body seems poised in that open door as if still debating the later.

"I can see you're troubled, dear." Clairice says.

But the more I watch Simone as she turns her attention back to the spread, erect male, I'm thinking, is she actually troubled, or just needing a moment to adjust?

"But, look," Clairice continues, "we're all adults here."

Aunty tries to normalize things a bit. But while technically accurate; we are indeed 'all adults'; the age disparity between the middle-aged Clairice (let alone my own forty odd years) and her 19 year old niece is not insignificant in terms of maturity and life experience. And, as 'open' as Clairice may have been about her recreational pursuits, there's 'information' (titillating or otherwise) and then there's reality; like that late twenty to early thirties erect male with the (just ask aunty) delicious penis who... yeah, then there's reality.

"You've met my friend Laura." Clairice continues, I'm thinking somewhat doggedly, trying to defuse whatever familial time-bomb she may fear she's pressed the 'go' button on. "And you know Bradley." She says with a slight grimace, motioning towards...

"Isn't he supposed to be your...?" Simone starts to ask but breaks off, her gaze lifting to meet Bradley's briefly before settling again, but as it seems to me more appraisingly, back between his legs. "Yeah, right, this is Bradley, huh?" causing him to moan softly again and buck his hips in pleasure at her attention.

"My web guy, yes. And he is." Clairice says quickly. "My web guy, I mean."

"So, is this, what, like, part of his job?" Simone asks but I note the tension in her forehead seems to have eased, her expression softened.

"No, no, of course not!" Clairice says. "But, you see, there are a few links and features of the site he was building for me that contain, well... Still, it was all very professional; the web design part of it anyway. But there was no way he could do the work without at least noticing some of the content. And so, we got talking and..."

"Does Mom know you're here?" Simone cuts this off, and I'm seeing something different in her expression now, her eyes narrowed at Clairice almost as if she suspects this was an intentional ambush. "She knows you're doing this," a pause for emphasis, "here?"

"Of course." Clairice answers somewhat defensively. "I mean, you know your mother, she doesn't ask for details, but she has no problem with me using the patio and pool when..." breaks off, "Honestly dear, we all thought you'd be gone till Tuesday. I hope there wasn't some problem with the interview or..."

"No. No problem. The interviews went fine." Simone waves this away casually, "Just..." and for the first time I think I catch just the glimmer of a faint smile as her gaze swings back to, "So this is Bradley." she states rather than asks.

"Ahn, fuck, yes!" Bradley answers, his voice tight.

He had settled back in the interim, perhaps realizing (belatedly) that this new arrival might not be just another sportswoman come to play. But Simone's shift in demeanor renews his hopes. He raises his hips up off of the lounge once more, his feet planted wide on either side, offering a nice reprise view of his tightly clenched, runner's ass as he strains to display his non-web related qualifications.

"You had him jerking off?" Simone asks. "You were gonna watch him jerk off?" she reformulates slightly.

Clairice meets my gaze, obviously a bit disconcerted by this shift in her niece's demeanor. I lift my brows in the universal sign of; 'you're-asking-me?' with the unspoken related corollary of 'she's-your-fucking-niece!' Because, though I know Clairice pretty well, I've only met her sister (Simone's mom) briefly a few times and Simone only twice before. I have no idea what the family dynamics are here. Simone's mom may or may not have an understanding, even accommodating view of Clairice's 'eccentricities', but may also harbor (I'm speculating here) an understandable 'NOT WITH MY DAUGHTER YOU DON'T!' attitude toward those same eccentricities. Yet, knowing Clarice, I have a feeling her claim that she's been 'open' about these things with her niece implies she's conveyed a bit more than generalities in her quest not to have 'secrets'. So, setting the 'mom' question aside, if I were to offer an opinion (which I definitely will not) the vibe I'm getting from Simone is something like this:

Simone is young. Yes, she was surprised, startled even, to walk in unexpectedly on her aunt and I enjoying ourselves with 'Bradley'. It took her a moment to get her bearings and also some effort to counteract that instinctive social response to withdraw from an unexpectedly intimate scene. But after her initial surprise it registers, if at first only vaguely, that there's something familiar to her about the whole 'aunty likes to play with naked men' paradigm. Simone knew this already about aunt 'CiCi', didn't she?

Knowing isn't the same as walking in and seeing it. But Simone is acting in a way that suggests she's given the matter of her aunt's recreational activities at least some thought before this. And, of course, Simone was curious. So (again, this is my guess) she did a little internet browsing with key search terms. And even though porn video cfnm is more for males with a humiliation fetish and less for women (like yours truly) who have a sporting and coinsurer's attitude toward the use and enjoyment of men, the general idea likely got across.

As a healthy young woman of a certain assertive, self-confident disposition; let's say, as in the present example, the type who would go by herself to a campus interview for a prestigious pre-law program, apparently ace it, then rebook her own plane reservations without informing anyone and come home unexpectedly early; for a young woman of a certain temperament, the images and ideas of women using males for sport and entertainment in this way could have some appeal. For that type of young woman, initial 'curiosity' might blossom into something more robust and experimental. That is, if given an opportunity.

"CiCi," Simone prompts when Aunty still hesitates, "he was gonna jerk off for you, right?"

Clarice gives me a pained expression, raises a brow. I shrug; not my place to say. But my read of the situation is, whatever the family politics may be, this young woman is ready and itching now to get her CFNM boots wet.

Clairice turns away from me to look back at her niece.

"Simone, we were just..." she starts.

"He was jerking off." Simone interrupts with a slight flash of irritation. "I saw what you had him doing." She sets her travel case down somewhat decisively to one side on the stone tiling, takes a step out onto the patio.

That does it. It's clear to me she isn't going anywhere.

"Actually," I offer with an appeasing glance towards Clarice, "he was auditioning for the chance to do that for me, or maybe to entertain us some other way."

I can see this sudden prurient candor has some effect. Expecting a bit more resistance, maybe an attempt to persuade her to leave, Simone's expression shifts, she sniffs and crosses her arms, looking at me with her head tilted slightly to one side as she considers...

"So, you mean you, this is like a thing with both of you." It's something between a question and a statement; rhetorical, verbal filler to make space for her to adjust.

"Using males for CFNM sport, you mean?" I ask easily, and sense Clairice wincing slightly beside me. "Like Bradley here." I add, motioning towards him casually.

Simone's eyes go there, come back to mine, "Yeah, I guess." she says and I see her gain just a bit of color.

"Definitely a thing." I tell her and give her my best 'welcome to the girl's club' smile.

Her eyes go over to Bradley then come back to mine once more. Then, there it is; a small huff and the trace of a thin smile as she turns back and survey's the male with smug appraisal. Yes, Simone, that what he's here for.

"But, unlike your aunt," I continue, "I haven't had the opportunity to use Bradley before. She told me about him; said she had a new male with a decent body and a great penis she was sure I'd enjoy," at the word 'penis' I see her press her lips together like she's stifling a laugh, her eyes coming back to mine. Yes dear, relax, it's just a penis; "said she really wanted me to try him out, at least see what he had to offer." I ramble on. "Because, as you say, it's a thing with us and several of our friends and it's not always easy to find good quality males who want to serve, so,"

I pause, let her see my eyes go meaningfully towards Bradley. Yes, that's my girl, her gaze goes back there, stays, as I continue.

"Anyway, we were just starting, getting acquainted as it were, letting him display and plead a little, show me why he deserves to..." I pause again, trying to gauge how explicit to make this? But I see that lifted chin of hers, that narrowed gaze and slight curl at the edge of her mouth as she surveys the male, as if she knows I'm testing and... fuck it; give the girl the true 'Laura' version; "show me why he deserves to empty his balls for me."

"Ahn, fuck, please." Bradley responds to the prompt, reaches back in to grip his cock, his hips still raised which accentuates the bob of those balls in time with his renewed stroking.

Simone watches. There, that's the smile we want; appraising, slightly smug; seeing him now from a sexual consumer's point of view.

Yes, Bradley, 'fuck please' indeed. But aren't you just so pretty that way; your ass clenching and thighs twitching as you make those balls you're pleading to empty bob for pretty young Simone as I ramble on,

"I may let him jerk off for me later. But he hasn't earned that privilege yet. So, technically at least, Claire's right, he wasn't jerking off." I laugh. "Not off anyway. He's just auditioning; hoping for the chance."

I wait, watching her as she watches.

"I see." she says after a moment.

Yes, I think she does.

"Simone, dear," Clairice prompts gently after a moment, "are you sure you...?"

"It's fine CiCi." Simone cuts this off with a slight whisk of her hand, not looking away from that stroking hand and those gently bobbing balls, "This is fine." she nods to herself. "I like Bradley. This is fine."

Another long pause then,

"Would you like a drink?" I ask, motioning towards the still half-full pitcher of Matai on the side table.

Simone looks at me, then her aunt and "Sure." She snorts.

"Bradley," Clairice says holding her niece's gaze affectionately, I might almost imagine proudly, "stop that a minute. Bring another glass from the kitchen and fetch that other chair, pull it over here between ours for Simone."

*

"So, he just does this?" Simone, hands on her hips standing beside her newly positioned patio recliner, asks as she watches Bradley head toward the open sliding door to fetch a glass from the kitchen.

"What do you mean, dear?" Clarice asks as I watch that lovely, pert ass disappear into the house.

"I mean, are you like paying him to do this or..."

"Paying him?" Clarice and I exclaim in unison.

"My god, dear," Clairice laughs, "why on earth would we be paying him? You did see how excited he was to have you walk in on us, didn't you? He'd probably pay us for the privilege, and then pay double to have a pretty young thing like you partake."

"Partake." Simone echoes, looking down a bit skeptically at the empty recliner. "But he's like," she frowns, "he's like a smart guy, right? Does your web site design anyway. And shit," she pauses, looks at me and, despite my attempts to put her at ease by showcasing my own prurience, I can tell she's still calibrating how candid she should be, "the guy's hung. I mean," her eyes go back to "CiCi, not like I'm some expert or anything, and maybe he's a jerk so nobody wants him but, come on, I'd swipe right on that every time. At least to meet him."

"Course you would." Clairice says, "That's why I just had to share him with Laura. He's such a wonderful find." she enthuses.

Simone laughs, "You make it sound like he's some sort of..." she shakes her head, "like you found him in a bargain thrift shop or..." her eyes shift to me. "And you, what were you saying about checking him out, wanting to see what he had to offer? Something about you and your other friends might have him do this later, like for a bigger group of women?"

"Well, that's certainly what he's hoping for anyway. But yes, I host the occasional CFNM event. Often the women supply their own males, I make my husband available, but there's always..." I pause, seeing her expression.

"Wait, you mean available, like..."

"Bradley here, yes."

"Your husband."

"Yes."

Her eyes go to Clairice. "Wait, so you've... with her husband? He's..."

"Yes." Clarice says with an amused shrug, "Her Mathew is always a welcome addition; very entertaining." Then, "I know this is a bit much all at once..." she starts.

"So, uncle Ed...?"

"No, no, dear." Clarice says quickly. "It just happens that Laura's husband is..." she looks my way.

"Suitable for it." I finish her thought. We're getting off track here. Because, getting back to today's assignment, "That's the point with putting Bradely through his paces; checking him out as you say. Not all males are good for this. I confess, I'm already fairly persuaded with this one. But the pleasure of making them audition, evaluating them when they know they're..." I sniff. Then, "Sit down." I say gently. "You want to be settled, comfortable, before he gets back."

"Okay, but..." Simone sniffs, then, "Yeah, okay." sits down, swings her legs up onto the recliner and clears her throat then glances towards the sliding door. "Does he even know where the glasses are? I mean, I could have gotten a glass myself, but I guess" she frowns slightly, crosses her ankles, adjusts her skirt, "you've got him doing a waiter thing."

"Well, he's doing whatever he's told." Clairice says. "Within certain bounds, of course." she laughs. "He won't write us a check for your first semester tuition or anything. But in terms of service, he wouldn't want to miss his chance to, as you say, do the waiter thing. Especially as he knows he's auditioning and now you're part of the judges' panel."

"I am, huh?" Simone raises her brows skeptically.

"You'll see." I tell her and reach across the short space between us to pat her forearm where it rests on the arm of her recliner. "They normally wouldn't approach unless told to, but being made," I smirk, clarify, "allowed to play waiter, let's them get close where they can be inspected and appraised or handled. It's up to you, of course, whatever you're comfortable with. But, as you weren't here for his initial viewing, unless you shoo him off, or want me to, he'll want the opportunity to present himself properly for you, submit to your evaluation so you can..."

"You mean..." she starts but.

"Here he is." Clairice says brightly as Bradley emerges through the sliding door back out onto the patio with a glass for Simone, his erection swaying side to side in a pretty upright arc, like a mushroom tipped metronome, as he steps towards us.

I feel a rush of vicarious anticipatory pleasure, recalling my first reactions to his initial presentation for my appraisal - standing over me by the arm of my recliner in that open, at ease stance, hips thrust forward, his penis blushing prettily for my attention - picturing what Simone is about experience as (what I assume is) her first CFNM toy presents himself for her perusal. Such a nice start for a young, aspiring sportswoman. Indeed, such a wonderful find.

I watch her expression as he draws near, looking for any signs of panic or unease, her eyes scanning his body as he comes closer.

"Just here will be fine." I say without looking up at him, motioning to the small side table between Simone's and my recliners, still watching her for any indication this may all be a bit too much too fast, but certain that if she just let's things...

"Yes, thank you." Her voice a bit tight. But that was a 'yes' and she's not pulling back as he steps now in between our chairs, leans to set the glass down on the table.

She turns her head to follow his movements and our gazes meet briefly, as if she's checking in. But it's quick and I can't quite read it before hers goes back to his penis as he straightens up slightly, reaches for the pitcher and...

"Yes, thank you." Simone says again as he pours, her voice firmer this time.

Bradley sets the pitcher back down softly, picks up the glass and shifts his stance to turn towards Simone, straightening up slightly, but still leaning down far enough to offer it to her as she sits in the low recliner.

"Your drink, Ms. Simone." he says.

"Yes." Simone says again, but doesn't immediately take the proffered glass, looking up at him as if considering, then, "So," pauses, clears her throat softly, "Bradley," pauses again.

I note the change in the timbre of her voice; lower, deliberate, self-regulating. He holds position, bent forward at the waist, looking at 'Ms. Simone' intently as he waits for her to take the drink.

She doesn't, not yet. I see her eyes make the circuit from his face to the proffered drink and then his cock as she considers, tests, keeps him there, that 'So, Bradley' dangling along with those balls she's eyeing between his legs as she decides what she might be 'comfortable with' given that,

"Laura thinks you want to present for me." she says with a trace of sarcasm, her eyes lifting from between his legs to his, "Something about wanting my evaluation?"

She still doesn't take the drink from him; she's testing her control of the situation, his compliance, keeping him there waiting on her when she could just lift a hand and take that drink from him. How long would he just hold position like this, holding that drink out, offering it (and, by implication, himself) without pushing or insisting? She's gauging her own level of comfort with that implication, her eyes dropping once more between his legs as

"Yes, Ms. Simone." he answers, his penis flexing up hard against his belly. "Your drink." he says shifting his stance slightly, growing restless.

Simone looks past him now to me, raises a brow as if asking 'is this how it's done?' or maybe just reassuring me as a means of asserting to herself that she's got this.

I smile and raise a brow back at her; yes, you got this. Go on.

"You'd like that, then?" she asks with a sniff, looking back up at his face, "To, how did she put it?" she asks with a short laugh, "submit to my evaluation; you'd like that?"

"Aahn, good girl!" Clairice exhales softly as

"Yes, Ms. Simone, I would." the male answers hoarsely. "Please."

Ms. Simone decides, takes the drink. "Go on then."

Repetition is a curious thing; it can dull or deepen one's appreciation and emotive response to any given stimulus. Spring is repetitive; every year the same lengthening days and fury of daffodils. Yet it evokes in me a host of emotive responses and reminiscences that make each year's return blend into and gain resonance from all the soft, stealing glories of the years before it. Now you, dear reader, may find this a far too sublime analogy for the 'tawdry', semi-ritualized display of male bodies and genitalia recounted here. But I suspect that is because you do not take seriously enough the sublime improbability, the open secret of the mundane; the pearl for which the wise man sold all his goods. What is Spring, after all, but a slab of mud, a swarm of gnats, the risk of tick-borne disease, and the certainty of pollen driven inflammation?

But I digress; sort of. Because the response of my body, the rush of feeling and pleasure, that restless, happy yet undirected impulse to do, touch, say something, purr and luxuriate like a sundrenched kitten, or pounce like a Bengal tiger... it is impossible to convey without refence to the conditioned associations, emotive memories and visceral traces in my tactile and visual synapses of all the triumphal, liberating, amusing, arousing, shared and individual gratifications stirred up when I see a male present himself for feminine sexual appraisal. Yes, I've seen it probably hundreds of times, in as many contexts with a vast variety of males offering themselves this way to me, other women, or even several males together lined up and presenting for the appraisal of audiences. And yes, it is always 'the same'; the penis fully erect, wide stance, hips forward, pelvis curled under and up to lift the balls for viewing, hands hung free at the sides, asses clenched, eyes forward seeking to acknowledge the female gaze without excuse or evasion; it is nothing new; like Spring. But, like Spring, it makes me happy and restless and flooded with inchoate anticipations, but also that oddly content feeling that all is right with the world that hath such things in it.

Bradley straightens up, turns fully towards the arm rest of 'Ms. Simone's' lounge chair, opens his stance, his back arching to bring the hips forward, the pelvis curling up and under. From behind I watch that fine ass clench hard, the pretty hollows in the side of the buttocks accentuated by shadow in the glancing, late afternoon sunlight; and I am fully immersed in that happy swirl of sexual arousal, the legacy of every man who has ever offered himself this way and all the pleasures shared with my sisters that have followed therefrom; he is just another; yes, just another Spring.

"So," Simone says after a moment, "he wants to be evaluated. Am I supposed to rate him now, give him a score from one to ten or something?"

"It's whatever you like, dear." Clairice says. "He's just excited to have your attention, to have you inspect him as you would a dildo you might consider using." she laughs, waves that away. "Or whatever. So go on, handle him, send him off, keep him there like an ornamental vase while we talk. And sure, if you want to rate him or offer comments, they love hearing us discuss their" she pauses, smirks, "endowments." she says melodramatically.

I'm looking past his thigh as he holds that wide stance beside the arm of Simone's chair, watching Simone's expression as she looks up from her slightly reclining position at his 'endowments'. She seems slightly bemused, as if Clairice's 'whatever' has left her a few too many options. So, I suggest a starting point for evaluation, choosing, to my taste at least, one of his better attributes.

"What do you think of the balls on this one?" I ask, clearing the verbal air of the 'endowment' euphemism in a way that I hope will encourage a pleasurably frank discussion.

"Ahn, yes." A soft male moan, a small eager jerk of the hips to jog the topic of discussion in the sack in helpful (if helpless) illustration.

Simone knits her brows thoughtfully. "The balls." she echoes, which elicits another reflexive jerk and moan from the male at which, "Jeeze," she snorts and smirks, "you weren't just saying that about how they like to hear..." breaks off, glances at me with a playful gleam in her eyes then, turning back, "Uhnm, what do I think of the balls on this one?" she asks, looking back up and tilting her head slightly to one side to accentuate her inspection of them.

"Yes, Ms. Simone." The male exhales in response and shifts his stance, sliding one foot slightly away from the side of her chair to angle his display to offer her a more full-frontal view.

"Really." Simone breaks out in a delightful, girlish giggle, looks my way again, pressing two fingers to her lips to suppress her amusement, and, "Sorry," she says unapologetically, "I mean," looks back up at "his balls are fine I guess." Eyes back to me. "But is this really, like...?" her voice trails off, then, "You get together and do this, like today, before I got here you had him...?"

"Absolutely." I answer. "Especially with new males, like Bradley here, new to me at least, I insist on it."

Simone snorts softly, shakes her head but looks back up at him with a more settled expression.

"So then," she says after a moment, "I guess when in Rome..." she shifts her drink to her opposite hand then reaches up.

I lean back further in my chair to see past his hip, watch his penis bobbing excitedly above her hand as...

"Ooh, is that cold?" she asks as her hand, chilled from holding her drink, toys with his balls.

His body shudders slightly but I doubt it's from the cold. "Thank you, Ms. Simone." he exhales raggedly.

"Yeah, okay. I like his balls." she says with another soft laugh and quick glance my way. "He's bigger, I mean his cock too, than the guys I've had lately, but there was one, Greg, in my sophomore year I dated for a while," she sits up slightly to reach higher, curl her hand around Bradley's cock, and, "yeah," she says, squeezing it as if testing, "he was hung pretty well." her eyes narrow slightly as she runs her curled fingers up the shaft, stopping just below the head, tipping it down slightly to examine the purple cap, "Not this good though, I don't think." she says over the soft, reflexive moan of

"Yes Ms. Simone, please." From Bradley who bucks slightly in her grip.

"Turned out to be kind of jerk though." she continues chattily, brushing her thumb over the glans to smear a drop of pre-come over the head. "Greg, I mean. Uhnmm, aren't you a pretty boy?" she says. "Nice knob on this one too. Man," she shifts her grip slightly back down the shaft, squeezes, "he is so stiff. I like that," she lifts her gaze to, "Bradley," she half purrs, half sneers, "you're so hard for this. This really does excite you, doesn't it?"

"Ah, fuck, Ms. Simone." Bradley groans and I can see the pulse in the base of his cock as it spasms in her grip, "Yes."

"Are you glad I came home early?" she teases.

"Yes."

"Came home and caught you jerking off for my aunt and her friend on my patio?" her hand slipping up and back lightly now on his penis.

"Yes, Ms. Simone." he gasps his hips thrusting in response to her soft strokes, "Ah fuck yes."

"Not off though. Laura says not off; just jerking weren't you?" her voice syrupy, like talking to a puppy.

"Yes." Another shudder wracks him.

It is so lovely to see a young woman take charge of a man this way; assert her control of his body, play and toy with his responses like a kitten with a mouse, make him jerk, shudder and gasp to amuse her.

"Well, go on then." she says after a moment and takes her hand away. "As you were." She smiles blandly up at him, motions with a nod of her head back towards the recliner he had been in. "Let's see it."

A moment later Simone is looking back and forth between Clarice and I, hoisting her glass, saying

"Okay, so that was fun. I can see why you make em do it." as that great ass of Bradley's flexes as he walks back to his recliner. "But so, mom knows you're doing this and you told her, what? I mean you just said, 'Hey sis, found this guy with a big dick and wanted to invite a friend over, use your patio'..." she frowns, "and, where is she anyway? She vacate the house so you could..."

"Slow down, dear." Clairice says soothingly as I watch Bradley settle back into the lounge, lay back, open his legs curl his hips up to give a good view of his ass and, again, so sweet how they offer their balls.

"Ah, fuck, Clairice," I say happily as Bradley's hand comes in to grip his cock, stand in up for us and "he does that so prettily." those responsive balls shifting, separating to either side of the root of his cock as he starts to stroke. I share what I'm thinking because it intensifies the pleasure of thinking, feeling it; "I do love the balls on this one; how they pull up and separate that way like they're smiling when he strokes it just right." I laugh. "That's it, smile for the ladies, Bradley."

"Ah, yes Ms. Laura." He moans softly and lifts his hips up higher.

"That is kinda sweet." Simone says, watching. "So, is that like a thing with you? I mean, you like good balls, you look for that on a guy?"

"Ah, fuck yes Ms. Laura, please!" he moans and bucks, jouncing them, "I want you to enjoy it. Yes." Bucks again.

"Whoa there Ms. Laura." Clairice says with laugh. "You're gonna talk the come right out of them in you keep it up. Let's slow down, answer a few more of Simone's questions before that."

"Okay." Simone says, "But, I just wanna get how this works; we are gonna get to the 'off' part before he's done, right?" Simone asks. "However you guys were gonna have him do it but, that is part of this, right? You weren't just gonna..."

"Not to worry dear." Clairice says with an affectionate shake of her head, "You get to see him come, if you stay. But it's early still, we were just starting and you were asking about your mother and I suppose we need to decide how you want to handle that. You're an adult now, I meant that. You decided to stay. I have no objection to that. But I'm not going to lie to her about it if she asks. If that's what you're thinking, counting on, you should go right now, because..."

"No, no, CiCi, it's fine. I'll deal with it. Just, no need to rub her nose in it."

"Of course not, dear. I would never."

"Then we're good."

And with that, the three of us settle in for what turns out to be a relaxing, arousing and entertaining afternoon.

*

"But Uncle David," Simone says at one point. Bradley is now facing us, on his knees, thighs spread wide, his upper body angled away as he leans back on one arm and masturbates. "he never says anything about this. He must know, though. I mean, you say you don't like secrets, but you and mom, you never mention it, say anything when he's around and he never..."

"Oh, he knows, dear." Clarice says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He also knows it's just a hobby for me; nothing serious. But he's not like me, dear. Your Uncle is a very private person. And your mother and I both respect that. Whatever we girls might say among ourselves, the topic of our sex lives is not something he would be comfortable having discussed in mixed company. He and I, we tell each other everything. He knows. But like I said, it's just a hobby. I'm not having affairs or fucking anyone else. I'm not bringing home any STDs or secretly texting toys, like Bradley here, in the dead of night or getting romantic notions every time some male dispenses his jism in my presence. It's a social sport to enjoy in the company of other women; recreation. Out of respect for your uncle David and his privacy I'll only say this; if you're thinking my hobby means he's being neglected in the bedroom, it's much the opposite, and he knows it. An afternoon playing this way will certainly work me up. But, as the saying goes, he doesn't care where I get my appetite, long as I come home for dinner."

"Hmmm." Simone pulls her chin thoughtfully as she watches Bradley. Then, "I think Bradley really needs to come." she says, looks back and forth between the two of us, "I mean, we've had him at this a while now and his balls," she motions, "poor things, up so tight." she sniffs, laughs, "I mean really."

Indeed, Bradley's balls, those 'poor things', have lost all their jounce; drawn up hard and fast to either side of the thick root of his cock. Even that desperate buck of his hips at hearing Simone's reference to them, fails to jog them.

"Well, I'm sure he does, dear." Clarice says with an easy shrug. "But that's always the case once they've been going for a while. They'd come in the first five minutes if we let them. Sometimes that's fun; seeing how helpless they are not to."

"Yeah, okay. But you did say you're gonna let him." Simone says, "And he's been good, right?"

"Yes, he has." I offer, look past Simone to Clarice. "I'm good. Got what I need in terms of his eagerness and compliance. I want to see that cock dance before I make any final decision. But..."

"You and your dances." Clarice interjects with a smirk. Turns to Simone, "Laura's favorite way to have them come; let them dance." she exclaims like a carnival host. Then, back to me, "I haven't coached him on that. It's more your thing, so you'll need to tell him how you..."

"Easy enough to explain." I say with an amused huff, turn to Simone. "I do like to see them dance. But really, in terms of evaluating them, it's the best way to judge how motivated they are to entertain us, as opposed to just getting off for their own sake."

Simone blinks. "Okay." she says tentatively.

I can tell she's unsure of the terminology. Not to worry, it'll be clear soon enough; a picture is worth a thousand words.

"I like the looks of him there, on his knees. You want to see him come this way?" I ask her.

"Sure." Simone says quickly, then, "But, you know, however it works for you. You were saying something about dancing. If he needs to..."

"No, no, dear." I say quickly. "Where he is is perfect. He can just lean back and spurt it up onto his chest and stomach. It's his cock I want to see dance while he comes. You'll see, it's..."

"Jesus, fuck please..." Bradley interjects his opinion on the matter.

"a fun way to try them out." I continue over his moan. "Not always so much for all males. But with the good ones, the ones most excited to show us, I think it almost makes them spurt harder to dance for the ladies."

It's all true. But it's also verbal masturbation for both the male and myself. I'm a verbal creature and even if I'm not speaking, the silent sexual narrative of my own thoughts is like a constant clit teaser. Saying it aloud, making him moan in desperation as I casually tell Simone that watching him spurt his come up onto his chest and stomach should be 'fun'... Every word makes me want it more.

"Yeah, okay, great." Simone says with a little smile, shaking her head slightly at the erotic melodrama. "Let's see Bradley dance. See how he does." She puts a hand to her lips, stifling a laugh, as the male bucks and moans.

"Ah, fuck yes." his voice constricted by the physical strain of his position. He drives his curled fingers down hard against the base of his cock to display it and his sincerity, "Thank you." as it pulses in his grip. "Thank you." His eyes go to each of us in turn to acknowledge, then he goes back to stroking.

"You heard Ms. Simone." I say officiously, "Time to empty those poor, tight balls."

"Thank you." he says again in a soft gasp, his hips bucking in excitement at his release to release.

"Yes, you're so grateful." I sniff at him condescendingly. "But Bradley, I want to see your cock dance for Ms. Simone. That means, when you start to come, stop stroking, take your hand away and let it bob and spurt on its own. Give Ms. Simone a pretty show."

"Ah, Jesus, fuck." he gasps, "I'm gonna..."

"You understand," I press, fairly sure he does but "when it starts, let it dance for Ms. Simone."

"Yes, yes..." he has that bleary, half lost look they get just before.

"Come on, do it." Simone sits up straight in the recliner, leans forward. "Jerk it off." she urges.

He does. He's obviously been working to hold back so it doesn't take long.

It's the way I like it done; simple, direct, no distractions; the male stroking himself with nothing to drive him but his own hand and his need to show us, to offer it to the audience.

I love seeing a young woman like Simone come into her own this way, assert her entitlement to be served, entertained.

"Come on." she urges, leaning still further forward to watch, "I wanna see you dance. Do it. I wanna see you... Yeahhhhh," she exhales happily as he bucks and suddenly pulls his hand away.

He freezes momentarily, on his splayed knees, leaning back now on two arms, back arched to thrust the pelvis towards us. Then a shudder, his cock flexing up hard off his belly as it spurts a thick rope of semen up onto his chest.

"There you go, uhnm." I purr at him as he spurts again. "Dance for Simone."

He does, very prettily; his cock very lively. That's really a very nice penis; a wonderful find.

"Yeah, there you go." Simone echoes me delightedly, "Oooh! Ooh!" she coos at him, laughing, in time with the small reflexive jerks of his hips with each flex and spurt of his cock.

He shoots it well, generously, four nice ropes, then less effective bobs and spasms that pulse out lesser gobs, his chest and stomach prettily splotched and slicked with it. I take special pleasure, as I often do, in watching this one shudder as his cock continues to spasm futilely with ejaculatory dry heaves, the balls emptied but the hypersensitive penis still flexing mechanically. They seem endearing this way; their grand moment passed but still on display, flailing helplessly.

"Ah, you still want to give us more." Simone taunts him gently, apparently sharing my enjoyment of the after show.

I glance aside at Clarice. She raises her brows at me, tilts her head meaningfully towards her niece and gives me a bemused smile.

I nod, lift my brows back; yes, that genie isn't going back in the bottle. Simone will likely be joining us at our next event.

I get a sudden, intense rush picturing my husband standing before pretty young Simone, offering his balls as I introduce him breezily with, 'Oh, and this is my Mathew.'