The Peter Files - cfnm, femdom, humiliation

Discussion in 'Work of others' started by Casual_Reader, Nov 15, 2014.

  1. Casual_Reader
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    The Peter Files are a series of loosely related stories about one "Peter Stroker", who keeps finding himself in femdom situations throughout his life

    Some of the stories fit together better than others. One clear arc starts with What the Doctor Ordered ( http://onania.org/asm/archives/34 ). During his college days, the title character finally gets his first serious girlfriend. But when Peter proves somewhat sexually "inept", Brenda insists he seek help from an unconventional expert:

    Later, in The Party ( http://onania.org/asm/archives/19 ), Peter's invited to a party (read "orgy") by one of his therapists. But there's a catch:

     
  2. Casual_Reader
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    Two of Peter's other medical adventures:

    In Overdrawn at the Sperm Bank ( http://onania.org/asm/archives/8 ), a penniless Peter agrees to "make a donation", to pick up some extra cash:

    And then there's Enema Practice (http://onania.org/asm/archives/4086 ). During a routine stay at a hospital, Peter gets drafted to help with a demonstration:

     
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    In Betting the Farm ( http://onania.org/asm/archives/20 ), a young Peter visits his relatives on a cattle farm. And one of his cousins introduces him to the pleasures - and perils - of such a place:

    If it sounds familiar, I think this story was later reworked, given a new ending, and republished elsewhere as Judy's Jewels
     
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    Betting the farm
    That's a very erotic story
     
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    Replacing broken links
    What the Doctor Ordered

    Editor’s Note: Secondary sexual dysfunction is a frequent consequence of excessive masturbation, and premature ejaculation is one of the most common clinical manifestations. Two complimentary processes are at work: frequent masturbation lowers the ejaculatory threshold and accustoms the sexual organs to non-coital emissions, thereby setting the stage for praecox ejaculation; and the moral degradation of masturbation leads to lowered self esteem and increased anxiety with women, resulting in almost unbearable tension when presented with coital opportunity. The result is a loss of normal ejaculatory control, and a habitual masturbator is often unable to accomplish sexual intercourse even with a willing and understanding partner. Usual therapeutic measures are not effective, and the sufferer is well advised to seek a therapist who will take into account the special dynamics of masturbation-induced premature ejaculation. — Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist




    In graduate school I really tried to develop a more normal sex life. I knew it was impossible to break my masturbation habit, but I hoped that I could learn to have normal sex with girls at least some of the time. I was still morbidly shy around the opposite sex, but I became good friends with Brenda, a nursing student, who (to my surprise) seemed attracted to me. After a couple of dates we wound up alone at her apartment and I knew now was the time. I was terribly nervous about having sex, but Brenda was a take-charge kind of girl and, with her leading me every step, we began to make love. But just when I was about to enter her, an irresistible urge to let go seized me, and I spilled my essence at her threshold, leaving her wet, sticky and frustrated.

    Brenda was very understanding about it all, and patiently allowed me several more chances, but each time I became so nervous that I spurted before I could penetrate her. We tried every remedy we could think of: creams, pills, constriction devices; but nothing seemed to help. As we talked about the problem, the whole secret of my masturbation habit came out, and as a nurse Brenda began to understand. She suggested that I see a sex therapist she knew who specialized in treating men with premature ejaculation. I was reluctant to see a doctor about such an embarrassing problem, especially since it involved my shameful habit of masturbation, but Brenda insisted, explaining that the doctor was very famous and known for using the most advanced methods. She would make the appointment for me and explain the problem ahead of time, so that all I had to do was show up and the doctor would take it from there. Being desperate to try anything, I finally agreed.

    On the day of my appointment, I entered the spacious, modern office and announced myself to an attractive young woman seated at the receptionist’s desk. She checked her appointment book and smiled. “Oh yes, you’re Peter, Brenda’s friend. She’s told us all about you!” I blushed, realizing what that meant. “Go right on in, Peter, Dr. Sphincter is waiting for you.”

    I’m not sure what I expected to see as I stepped into the doctor’s private office, but I surely wasn’t prepared for the incredible sight I encountered. Instead of a middle-aged medical doctor dressed in the usual cool-white uniform of the medical professional, I saw a devastatingly beautiful Amazon. She was wearing a black leather garment that covered her hips and waist like a long corset, hugging them tightly. The corset made no attempt to hide her spectacularly large breasts, which jutted proudly bare. A leather strap rose from the front of the corset, running up the deep cleavage between her breasts and spreading them slightly apart, until it joined a band encircling her neck. Her feet were shod in black leather boots which rose from her toes nearly to the top of her thigh. And to complete the extraordinary attire, her hands and forearms were encased in elbow length patent gloves, also of black. As she sat there on a low rattan couch, her knees wide apart in a masculine posture, her commanding presence was overwhelming.

    I was speechless with confusion, and stared in amazement. The image of a dominant woman had always been one of my favorite masturbation fantasies, and I had stroked my penis countless times to photos of women dressed and posed as she was. I was so excited by the vision before me that I completely lost control of myself. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a familiar rush of feeling and realized I was ejaculating in my pants. From my spastic jerks and the telltale spreading wet spot in my crotch, she had no problem concluding what had happened. She shook her head sadly, “Well, Peter, Brenda was certainly not exaggerating. You obviously have quite a problem controlling your emissions.”

    I stammered an excuse, “I… I… wasn’t expecting to see…”

    “No, I suppose not. Peter, I am Doctor Greta Sphincter. I have found this attire useful in treating premature ejaculators. It brings out a patient’s latent fixations, as you can see, and also helps establish a useful doctor/patient relationship. You will see later how important that is. But now it is time to begin. Please remove your trousers and underwear for an examination.”

    I shyly complied, blushing as I stood before her naked from the waist down. To my added embarrassment, my penis still oozed small drops of semen from its involuntary ejaculation. She walked over to me, her large breasts swaying, and stood with her nipples only inches from my chest. Taking my genital organs in her hands, she began examining them. She manipulated the penis up and down and palpitated my testicles with uncomfortable firmness. My penis began stiffening in new arousal in spite of its recent activity, adding to my embarrassment.

    “Hmm…I see nothing physically wrong with your organs. You play with yourself a good deal, don’t you, Peter?”

    I blushed in shame and nodded.

    “I suspect your problem is entirely psychological, caused by repeated self abuse. Quite simply in layman’s language, as a habitual masturbator you lack the willpower necessary to control you emissions. But there is hope for you, Peter. I shall help you gain the necessary self-discipline. Let us begin with the orgasm which you just experienced.”

    With one hand, she took my stiffening penis in a snugly comforting grip and lifted it gently away from my male sacks. She smiled mysteriously at me for a moment, then without warning brought her other hand up suddenly, slapping my defenseless testicles hard with her leather encased palm. I shrieked and collapsed to the floor in misery. “You must learn, Peter, not to ejaculate without first obtaining permission. Otherwise, there will be severe punishment. Now get up and stop acting like a baby. We will begin your exercises.”

    She led me to a small dining table and made me drink in quick succession several large glasses of ice tea. The liquids passed rapidly through my system, and soon I began shifting uncomfortably with the need to relieve my bladder. “Please, Doctor Sphincter, I’d like to go to the rest room now. May I?”

    She smiled cruelly, “No Peter, you may not. This is an exercise to teach you to hold your water. Medically speaking, urinary continence is similar to ejaculatory control, and the self-restraint you learn here will apply to your sexual dysfunction.”

    As the pressure in my bladder grew, I begged and pleaded with her. Finally she seemed to relent, and handed me a small wide-mouthed bottle. “Very well, you may release your water into this specimen bottle. But be very careful not to spill any urine on my carpet.”

    Refusing me any privacy, she watched as I inserted my penis into the bottle and loosed a flooding stream. Although it was humiliating to perform this bodily function in front of her, all other concerns were swept away in the heavenly sense of relief. But as the warm yellow liquid rose toward the top, I suddenly realized that the small bottle could not possibly hold all of my offering. Anxiously I said, “Uh, I’m not done. May I have another bottle?”

    She shook her head, “No, that is enough for now Peter. I want you to retain the rest of your fluid.”

    With the urine nearly overflowing the bottle, I cried in panic, “Please, Doctor, don’t make me stop in the middle. It hurts to shut it off!”

    “Peter!” she said sternly. “Stop at once, I say. Don’t force me to punish you again.” She raised her gloved palm toward my naked genitals. I still felt a dull ache in my glands from earlier, so I grimaced and cut off the flow. The agony of interrupted urination was preferable to another such strike at the core of my manhood. “That’s better. Now empty the bottle in the sink. In a few minutes, I will allow you to discharge another portion of your water.”

    Twice more she repeated the torment, until finally I was at ease.

    “So far so good, Peter. Now we will begin to work on the sexual fluids.” She seated herself comfortably on the couch. “Kneel down in front of me.”

    I knelt at her feet and looked up at her, my eyes level with her magnificent bosom. “Look at my breasts, Peter. Do they make you feel sexually excited?”

    “I .. can’t help it.” My penis was once again thrusting straight out in erection.

    “Do you feel like you need to masturbate? I would like you to show me how you normally do it.”

    I was mortified by her order. “Please Doctor, I can’t. Not while you watch. It’s too humiliating.”

    “Stop wasting time. You’re eager enough to masturbate on your own. Now do as I say and masturbate your penis!”

    It was strange, but the commanding tone of her voice and the awesome spectacle of her Amazonian beauty left me powerless to disobey. Kneeling submissively before her, I took my penis in my hands and began to caress it. My head was level with her large bare breasts, and my eyes were drawn to them, as she doubtless intended. I longed to suckle at her prominent nipples and to bury my face between them, but I knew better than to ask for such a favor. After a while, I began to feel a curious excitement at performing in front of her. I wanted her to see me consummate this most shameful of all sexual acts, to witness my humiliating surrender to the unnatural lust. But she did not long allow me to savor the situation.

    “Peter, don’t think that I am encouraging you to perform this exhibition for your perverted enjoyment. This is an exercise to increase your ability to control your ejaculatory urges. Therefore, when you approach your orgasm, you will at my command remove your hands from your organs and place them behind your back, suspending all further stimulation. I know it will be hard, Peter, you will want very badly to release your semen. But you must exercise self-discipline, for two reasons. First, because it is important for your sexual adjustment and the sake of your cure. And second, if that does not persuade you,” she smiled cruelly, “because if you ejaculate I shall spank you on the testicles until you will wish that you had been castrated!”

    I did not doubt her threat. She watched coolly as I continued stroking my penis, observing the signs of mounting arousal as my orgasm neared. With a skilled professional eye, she waited until I was just seconds from climax and cried, “Stop!” Summoning my last shred of moral courage, I relinquished the grip on my organs. She grinned as I kneeled dutifully before her with my hands behind my back and my forsaken penis bobbing forlornly in the air.

    “Very good, Peter, very good indeed.” She extended her booted foot and flicked my penis playfully with her toe. “For the first time, that is. Again, please.”

    I lost count of the number of times the cruel torture was repeated. Again and again she watched me bring myself to the brink of release only to jerk me back with her command. At last she ceased and motioned me to stand before her.

    “You have done well for your first treatment, Peter, and it is all over, now. It wasn’t so very terrible, was it?” she said, smiling kindly at me. Her eyes focused on my penis, still bobbing very erectly before me. “I see that there is some residual vascular tension in your genitals. That is often a side effect of the treatment. I think you would be more comfortable if we relieved the tension, don’t you?” As she spoke, she took the tip of my erect member and began rolling it between her fingers, holding it just inches from the deep cleavage of her breasts.

    I could hardly believe what she seemed to be offering. “Are you going to… to…?”

    “Masturbate you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, Peter, we must not reinforce your childish dependence on that habit. I will relieve your tension, but in a way more beneficial to your sexual adjustment. Lie across my lap, now.”

    “What… what are you going to do?”

    “Well, you’ve been a very naughty boy. And we both know what happens to naughty boys, don’t we?” She laid me over her lap, carefully placing my penis between her leather-clad thighs. It was dripping with excitement and soon made a slippery home for itself. I could feel the tips of her nude breasts tickling my back. “Comfy? Now I’m going to paddle you, Peter. It will hurt at first, so don’t be ashamed to cry and kick.”

    She began spanking me hard with her hand, the leather glove making a loud popping sound. Indeed, it did hurt, and I began to kick my bare legs and beg her to stop. But in spite of the painful slaps, my penis was rock hard, and with each blow it rubbed deliciously between her boot tops.

    I continued to cry and beg her to stop, but it must have been very clear to her that this was the last thing I wanted. I was getting very close to climax, and the slaps were as hard as ever, but now they felt heavenly. I wanted nothing more than to lie forever on the lap of this divine creature, prolonging the rapture of the spanking eternally. But I could not hold back the course of nature for long, and at last I cried out, “Oh Doctor, I’m going to… I can’t help…”

    But she was fully aware of my state. “Yes, that’s right, Peter, let go on my lap. Just let it come out when you feel like it.”

    My penis quivered and began spurting its fluids between her legs. She accelerated the slaps, timing them perfectly to each surge of my ejaculation, which seemed almost endless. At last I ceased, and the rain of blows became gentle pats on my perspiring backside. “There, there. All done now,” she soothed.

    She left me alone for a few minutes to dress and collect myself. When she returned, she also was dressed, in her doctor’s whites. As she walked me to the door, she asked, “When would you like your next appointment? I recommend two corrective treatments per week.”

    I asked, “Could… could we make it three? I think the extra treatment would be very… good for me.”

    She smiled knowingly. “All right. Three it is, then.”
     
  6. Casual_Reader
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    The Party

    Editor’s Note: Peter has sought help for his masturbation dependency on several occasions, but with little permanent benefit. This chapter describes an incident while he was in a treatment program that emphasized social aversion conditioning. We are fully supportive of this treatment protocol, which intentionally places the masturbator in social situations where his habit is exposed to others and its humiliating nature may be recognized. — Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist

    It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter was very excited. Tonight was the night of the annual "toga party", a wild, anything-goes bash held secretly by the in-crowd of the university, and Sharon had agreed to take him with her, to let him observe how normal boys and girls relate to each other. She made it clear that he would NOT be her date for the evening, but he was grateful just being able to attend the exclusive and (by all reports) wildly erotic party. He answered a knock at his apartment door, and Sharon entered, wearing a mini-skirt and boots. Her large breasts thrust boldly beneath a thin cashmere sweater, and her blonde hair cascaded about her shoulders.

    "Ready to go, Peter?" she asked. "Here’s your party outfit." Reaching into her purse, and extracted a small leather harness. It looked like a pet harness for a very tiny puppy or kitten, with two small leather loops attached to a leash. But Peter knew what the loops were intended to encircle.

    "No, Sharon, don’t make me wear that! It’ll be too embarrassing for the other kids to see me in that."

    She grinned, "Sorry, but I told the other girls all about you, and they want to see you in your genital training harness. Now put it on, or you don’t go."

    With reluctance, he removed his pants and allowed her to snap the harness in place. One loop encircled the base of his small penis, and the other fastened snugly around the neck of his scrotum. Snaps of an ingenious design held the harness in place, and could be released only by a special tool which Sharon kept always in her possession.

    "Now, you won’t need your pants. Just put on your trench coat and let’s go." Following her to her car, Peter felt an odd thrill of excitement being naked beneath the coat.

    The party was held in several adjoining apartments in an old building near campus. In the hall before entering, Sharon stripped off Peter’s coat and produced a pair of leather wrist cuffs. "I want them to see how we treat masturbators at the clinic, Peter. Put your hands behind your back." Over his protests, she bound his wrists together behind him. She rang the buzzer, and Peter stood there bound and naked, dreading the opening of the door.

    A buxom girl in a sexy low-cut bra and shiny red nylon panties greeted Sharon. "Who’s this? Don’t tell me– it must be Peter. Goodness, you’ve got him trussed up like a Christmas turkey! Are you as naughty as Sharon says?"

    He stammered, "I…I…sometimes." He hung his head, and saw his little member drooping out of the harness. Under the sharp inspection of the girl, it began stretching and growing.

    "Hmmm…so I can see. Well, come with me, and I’ll keep you out of trouble!"

    Sharon added, "Put him somewhere he can watch the action. I want him to see how the big boys play."

    The hostess took him by the leash and tugged gently but firmly on his genitals, leading him into the room and over to a couch. "Sit here, Peter, you’ll enjoy watching the party games." She ran a finger over the leather harness and up the length of his aroused penis. "I can see Sharon takes good care of you."

    The party was in full swing. Most of the revelers still retained some clothing, finding it more erotic to leave something hidden to the last moment. But Peter delighted in viewing the many naked breasts and buttocks of the girls, or the firm and proud members of the boys, which the remaining garments more framed than hid. Nor was so much luxuriant flesh exposed to no purpose: all imaginable acts of pleasure were on view as well. Peter was fascinated by the sight of intercourse performed as openly and casually as a disco dance, or fellatio as matter-of-factly as munching hors d’oeurvres.

    For a while he sat on the couch, his hands still tied behind his back. The charming sight of the young man with hands bound and penis stiff in its harness caught the attention of several ladies. Sharon had evidently told them all about Peter’s "condition", and they now made him recount some of his spectacularly humiliating acts of self-abuse. Peter was embarrassed, but his penis grew stiffer than ever under the looks of the girls. The girls laughed, "No wonder Sharon has to keep your hands tied!"

    Just then Sharon passed by, and joined in. She described some of the treatments used on Peter, such as corporal discipline, and then offered to let the girls try spanking him themselves. She held him across her lap while each of the girls took a turn. Peter squirmed and squealed with each slap on his upturned buttocks, but the girls could tell he was enjoying it as much as they. Before long, Sharon felt Peter jerk uncontrollably, and a tell-tale wetness ran down her leg. She made Peter stand up, and he grinned sheepishly in front of the laughing girls as a few final pearly drops oozed from the tip of his softening penis.

    Very soon his erection returned, and Sharon untied his hands. She playfully pinched the tip of his penis, and said, "Sharon’s gonna find herself a man, now honey, so you run along and play. It’s party night, so you just do whatever you want– and I guess we both know what that’ll be! Just don’t work yourself into a prune, and don’t make a lot of mess on the rug."

    He grinned and nodded. "Thanks, Sharon, I’ll be careful." Peter began walking around, idly stroking his genitals. He was intoxicated with the freedom of the party, the license to casually masturbate in full view of all. Indeed, there was so much overt sexual activity occurring, no one even noticed the young man fondling himself. He spent a long time thus, watching the festivities and silently echoing them on his own organs.

    Seeing so many acts of intercourse, Peter began to wonder if he might try it himself. His continuing virginity was a torment inflicted by his addiction to masturbation. On the few occasions when he had attempted the normal sexual act with a willing girl, his member, lacking the familiar manual stimulation, had betrayed him and failed to maintain erection. But he felt that the casual, relaxed mood of the party might be just the right environment to allow success.

    He stopped by a trio, a man and two women, just as the man was finishing intercourse with one girl while the other sat on a couch beside them and watched. The man gave a final thrust and the woman made a deep appreciative moan, feeling his seed thunder within her loins. When they separated, Peter to his delight recognized Sharon.

    Her partner left, seeking liquid refreshments to restore him. Sharon joined her friend on the couch and introduced Peter. He smiled hello, glancing shyly at the gloriously nude body of the girl. She was a brunette, somewhat smaller than Sharon, but with enormous pendant breasts which spilled down her chest. The girl stared fascinated at his erect penis in its leather harness, and Peter’s heart leaped when the she spread her legs and said, "Like to have a go, cowboy? Sharon wore Roger out before he got to me!"

    Sharon laughed, "Cindy, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Peter’s a habitual masturbator, we’re treating him at the clinic. That harness he’s wearing is to control him during genital therapy sessions."

    "Doesn’t he like sex?"

    "He’s never had any. He is so addicted to self-abuse that he is completely incapable of normal sexual intercourse.

    "Gee, is he gay, or something?"

    "Not exactly. He really likes women, but he has destroyed his ability to function as a normal man by excessive, uncontrollable masturbation. When he attempts penetration of a woman, he loses his erection. We call it masturbatory impotence. He becomes very excited during his treatments at the clinic and ejaculates when a nurse gives him a manual release — but he can’t handle a real fuck. Show Cindy how you play with yourself, Peter."

    At first he was reluctant to humiliate himself before his new acquaintance, but Sharon picked up the leash and gave it a warning snap which made him wince. His hands assumed their familiar role massaging his genitals.

    Cindy was fascinated by his very erect member. "You really are a funny boy, aren’t you? You’ve got such a nice little penis, lots of girls would like it inside them. Why do you misuse it so badly?"

    "Oh, Cindy, I can’t help it, I’m a… a… habitual masturbator. I wish I could stop, I’ve tried hard."

    "It must be pretty embarrassing to be impotent. Don’t you ever wish you could have sex with girls?"

    "I’d give anything!"

    "Maybe I could help. Would you like to try to have sex with me?"

    "Ooh, yes! Sharon, would it be all right?"

    She laughed abruptly. "Ridiculous! You know you’ll never get it in her."

    "Please, Sharon, let me try."

    "Oh, all right. But I don’t think you can keep it up."

    Cindy spread her legs, and Peter knelt between them. With her fingers, she parted the lips of her sex and allowed Peter to insert the tip of his penis. Surprisingly, he was able to enter and thrust deep within her womanhood. Sharon said, "My goodness, little fellow, you made it in!" Cindy confirmed, "Mmm…yes, and I can feel it all the way down, …nice…"

    Peter was thrilled at his success, and under Sharon’s instruction began performing sexual intercourse for the first time in his life. "That’s it Peter, in and out. Push against her clitoris, work for her, that’s very good."

    Cindy urged him, "Oh, yesss… push for me, Peter, push for Mama… oooh… you’ll get a gold star for this… mmm… now push! I’m almost there…"

    Peter never knew what it was. An evil genie? Fear of success? Perhaps fear of leaving at last his old and cherished habit of self- gratification, and the loving torture of genital therapy. Whatever it was, almost at the moment of triumph he felt the awful, familiar ebb of tension, and his tumescence deflated inside her. His manhood failed utterly, shrinking and shrinking until it became a pitiful worm which wriggled impotently between the lips of her orifice.

    "You little bastard!" Cindy cried. "How dare you go limp before I finished!"

    Sharon also was angry at him. "Peter! What kind of trick are you playing? You get another erection at once!"

    Peter pleaded miserably, "I… I can’t, Sharon! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to go limp. I don’t know what happened! But I can’t make it get hard again."

    Sharon was disgusted. "You really are hopeless aren’t you? You’ll never learn to have sex like a real man! Now get busy and finish her off with your tongue."

    He quickly bowed down, and burying his face between Cindy’s thighs, began to lick the domed capitol of her pleasures. "Mmm… at least he can do that well enough… Oh, yes… Thank God his tongue is harder than his penis… ohhh…"

    Soon she reached her climax, and Peter sat back on his haunches. She looked at Peter, kneeling before her, and at his member, which was once again jutting in deceptive readiness.

    "I… I’m sorry I went soft, Cindy. I really tried."

    She smiled. "Poor little masturbator. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, you did your best. And your tongue felt real nice. Of course, a girl would rather have the real thing…"

    Sharon agreed, "Yeah, there’s nothing like a big strong penis of a REAL man. It sure beats the licks of a little masturbator."

    Peter hung his head, "You were right to be mad. I know I let you down."

    Cindy stared at the respectable erection bobbing in Peter’s lap. "Look at him. You’d never know that there was anything wrong with him. Are you ready to try me again, little fellow?"

    He looked up hopefully. "C…could I? I might… go limp again."

    Cindy laughed, "Yes, we could bet on that. No, I think we better give you something more your size." She took a nearby bottle of body oil and doused her pretty fingers. She made a loose fist and held it down between her legs for the kneeling youth. "Here, Peter, I think you can handle this."

    Peter obeyed happily. He crawled forward and inserted his turgid member in her fingers. Cupping his testicles in his own hands for reassurance, he began thrusting back and forth. She held her fist very close to her own womanhood, and occasionally the tip of his organ even kissed at the lips. It was thrilling for Peter to masturbate so close to the divine gates. He could almost pretend that he was thrusting within her loins.

    Sharon giggled, "Look, isn’t he funny looking? He’s pushing his hips back and forth just like he was inside a girl. Does that feel good, Peter?"

    "Oh, yes, Sharon, I like it!"

    Cindy said, "I bet you wish you could be inside of me, instead of in my hand."

    "Oooh, I do… but I’d just go limp."

    Cindy encouraged him, "There you are, Peter, rub your little wee-wee in my fingers, you’re doing real good. Maybe someday you can do the real thing."

    Peter was near to climax now, and it was obvious to both girls. He gasped out "Oh… I think I’m going to… I can’t help…"

    Sharon said, "Watch out, Cindy, he’s getting ready to make a big mess. You better make him stop."

    She smiled sympathetically. "No, I don’t mind. Go ahead now, Peter, it’s all right. You can let go in my hand. Show us what a big squirt you can make." Peter murmured his gratitude as he flooded her fingers with his release.
     
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