Sean Fraser's Predicament

Sean Fraser's Predicament 7

By Ritchie Moore

(I'll forward it to the author)

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Part 7

“I don’t know where to start,” she said with mock ruefulness. “But maybe if you lie down on the chaise I’ll get an idea.” She nodded to the seat and he shuffled over and sat down.

“Well,” she said in an impatient tone, “why don’t you lie back?”

He took a breath and eased himself on to his back, his erection saluting them and his eyes going from one to the other with a sort of desperation. He could see what was coming, and it was worse in a way to have that foresight. He closed his eyes and sighed again.

“Don’t sigh, Sean! Anyone would think you didn’t like this. Didn’t like us. But you do, don’t you? Like us, I mean. Say it. Say you like us.”

He looked up at her cheerful face and felt his penis throb at the sight of her, young and pretty and (God, it was true!) desirable, and said sincerely enough, “Yes, I like you.” Then closed his eyes again and set his teeth.

“I don’t know how honest that was, but thanks anyway. Now just relax and I’ll do your chest.”

He felt her soft fingers on his shoulders, on his arms, on his collar bones, on his chest, smoothing the stuff tenderly over his sensitive skin. The attention of her hands kept him in a quivering arousal, and he heard the odd remark and snigger from the others. Then she was at his waist.

“Aah, I think I’ll pause there. Yes, why don’t you turn over, let me do your back?”

He was glad of the respite, but he knew it wouldn’t last. She’d get to his willie in time. Suppressing another sigh he turned over, wincing slightly as his engorged cock was pressed under him.

“There’s your fine arse again, Sean. And we should all tell you how much we like you, and your arse, and everything else about you!”

The others chorused happily, with audible grins, and egged on the new teenager to continue. She went to his shoulders again, and quickly got to his shoulder blades, which made him wriggle a bit.

“Are you ticklish? I hadn’t noticed.”

He shook his head silently and closed his eyes again. Alexa was taking more time now, deliberately postponing the arrival at his arse (which flinched in expectation) and more arousal. He just knew it. She traced his spine and creamed his ribs, and she was at his waist again. Now!

“Eh, Sean, I’m not sure about this bit. Why don’t you get up, stand up and pose over here ....”

What was she doing? Positioning him in the centre of the crowd, bending him forward—

“Part your legs! Put your hands on the chaise for balance if you must. Are you groggy or something?”

Yes, by God he was groggy, and why not? He leaned against that divan thing and braced himself.

“Come on, Sean, you know what we want! Stick your bum out, I have to get at it!”

Wearily he complied, feeling more ashamed, if that were possible, as if he was flaunting his nudity and inviting them (all six of them) to inspect it. Then he felt her at the base of his spine, spreading the sun cream liberally over the dimples at the top of the nates, down to the sides, to anoint the hollows in his thighs, and on to the swell of the gluteus that those other girls had so admired. She lingered quite a bit at this stage, and the contact helped to maintain that erection, which was remarked on by the youngest, whatever her name was. Then oh! Alexa was at his anus , rubbing the stuff over the hole, over his arsehole, oh God! and muttering something to herself. Then to the others.

“I say, you lot, you’ll like it when you’re at this bit. Are you looking forward to it?”

Another jubilant chorus came from the witnesses, all salivating, he knew, at the prospect. And how was he to manage to endure all this, and endure it again and again, from all of them? From each of them? Oh God! She was putting her hand through to his perineum, and tickling him unbearably. He shivered, and practically danced on his feet, as if to escape, but he couldn’t, and the girls all laughed at the ludicrous spectacle. Then her fingers reached his testicles.

He jerked his pelvis forward, and the others crowed in satisfaction at his pose, his erection (“That’s a hard-on and a half!” said the youngest) jutting forth as if asking for approval, and Alexa decided to finish off the exhibition. “Turn round. Lie back on the chaise. Like that, yes.”

She got him supine and oiled her hands again, looking at his member with fixed determination.
Then, slowly going from loins to crotch, she carefully anointed that sensitive bit of him that seemed to his paranoia to grow in heat and awareness of those delicate touches till it had to be bursting, it’ll explode, burst into flames, oh, oh God, he’d die—

She stopped, and drew back with a cruel smile on her lips. “There now, Sean,” she said with a panting breath (to mirror his), “that’s enough. Take a breather. Relax. We have all afternoon.”

He gasped and looked up at her expression. She wasn’t going to bring him off? No, she wasn’t, and it was quite deliberate. She’d brought him to the crest, but wouldn’t put him over. How could she? She knew he just had to ejaculate, to get release of that sexual tension, to come, to finish! But not yet.

The others were laughing at him, and Dorcas took it upon herself to explain.

“It’s called ‘edging’, Sean. Don’t you know about that? You can do it yourself, when you’re wanking, just stopping seconds away from climax, then starting again. And repeating. In fact, it makes your final climax really special.”

He goggled at her. “Then—”

Veronica, who somehow seemed to know all about things, added “Of course the word means, as well, the trick of going round the edge, with your penis, the edge of the vulva and vagina, just rubbing it round, and it’s really a turn-on. They tell me,” she went on hastily. “Anyway,” she continued with a slight flush of her own, “it’s a bit different from what Alexa did there. Which – brace yourself – is what Kristina is going to do. Oh yes, Sean, it’s her turn to protect your skin from the nasty sunburn, all over, just in case Alexa missed any little bits.”

The middle cousin grinned in delight and flexed her fingers. “On your front, I think, to start with, and then we’ll see.”

Sean whimpered in dismay. He was at their mercy, and couldn’t do anything to protect himself, just lie prone and wait for another pair of hands. With four more to go. He closed his eyes and gave a humiliated sob. How long would this pleasurable torture last?

Kristina oiled his back and bum oh so carefully, spending as much time as her sister on the areas where the bum gave way to the upper legs, and caressing the curves of the glutei, before giving most of her attention to that twitching anus, and indeed (Oh!) daring to insert a finger, inside, oh, inside his arse!

The others laughed uproariously at the sight, and Kristina pushed her finger in further and wiggled it about. Sean shuddered and took a quavering breath, then exhaled with a sort of yelp that brought more laughter from these damnable bitches. He felt her finger pause as it found something in there, a turd, maybe, please no! Christ he had a sudden urge of erotic excitement, what was she doing to him? He opened his eyes wide as Veronica choked with glee and explained to the naïve boy.

“She’s got your prostate. That’s what’s happened, Sean, don’t you know? God, you are simple. That little thing in your bottom winds you up, tightens your spring, in a way, and makes your penis hard. How hard is it? Oh, Kris, I do think he’s crushed against the chaise, it must be uncomfortable for him. Let him up.”

He was allowed to turn over, to show his maltreated penis erect and impudent, and Kristina wasted no time in titivating his nipples and abdomen with those fairy fingers. Sean was taking heaving breaths, looking up at her with a mixture of panic and entreaty, and no, she didn’t pull him off. She got damn close, but somehow managed to gauge what the “almost there” point was, and desisted (reluctantly), drawing her hands away from his throbbing cock with a rueful sort of smile. The others cheered and sat down again to finish off the lemonade, leaving him spluttering in a mix of agony and sensual excitement.

He thought he had recovered by the time Veronica took over, but he hadn’t at all. It seemed he grew harder than ever, and quicker too, and he was oh so near to the delight of release when the fucking bitch stopped and chucked him under the chin with some remark about patience.
After that they thought about swimming again, so they hauled him to his stumbling feet and got him to the pool side, where they seized his arms and legs and with a One, Two, Three! they threw him in, shrieking with laughter.

“Oh,” said Mrs Rathbone, “it’s so nice you’re enjoying yourselves. Are you finished with the lemonade and things? Good. There’ll be more later. And you, er,” she paused, looking at the strange boy, “you’re having a nice time, hm? That’s good. The girls are behaving themselves, are they?” She went off without waiting for a reply to her ridiculous comments, and the girls, who had sobered up a bit at the advent of the adult, grinned at each other. More high jinks to come.

After a while they were out and drying off, watching Sean avidly as he applied his towel to that so interesting body, while he felt his penis react as if it had been physically touched. It was only their sight, their eyes, that were in some sort of metaphysical contact with his poor prick, but he still felt, or imagined he felt, a touch so faint and shy that it was almost not there, but it was there, it was as if they were all grabbing his balls and playing with them. Stupid bastard! He was getting super-paranoid or something. Oh Christ, please let me get through this afternoon, and then....

Betty’s ministrations were really a repeat of the treatment he got from Alexa, except that the twelve-year-old was a bit more tentative in the way she touched him, which itself was somehow more erotic than ever. She was just as good, however, as the cousins at knowing when to stop, and laughed in a hateful childish way at the expression on his frustrated face.

Claire remembered about the prostate, and spent an enormous amount of time poking about his arsehole, commenting to the others in an awful vulgar way about how it felt, while he could feel, or imagined, probably, waves of shamed heat flow over his body. His prick couldn’t take much more, surely?

Dorcas, sixteen years old and evidently more knowing that the rest, took more time, and prepared him by exciting his nipples for quite some minutes before moving on to his abdomen and playing with his navel, which bothered him more, somehow. Then his arse, then his prostate, then his loins, then his perineum (ooh!), then his ballocks, then the warm eager shaft of that nice hard-on, then –

Aha, it had to happen, and finally he was deliberately led over the brink, to show the entranced girls what an edged ejaculation could be like. It really never does take long, of course, but this time it seemed (only seemed, he supposed) to go on for ever, his body writhing in its ecstasy as he spurted long and high in a fascinating exhibition. He staggered back and collapsed on the chaise longue, and the silent girls looked at the inert boy, breathing as hard as he.

“Well,” said Dorcas, “that was ... amazing, I think. Let’s have another interval, what do you say? Maybe more lemonade. Though Sean looks as if he could do with a brandy.”

“Whatever,” said Veronica, “just let the poor bugger rest on his laurels for a bit. Then another swim, and then...?”

The others grinned and looked at each other like conspirators. Sean caught he expression in his half-open weary eyes and knew with an odd confusion of lust and shame that he wasn’t nearly done with his humiliation. The afternoon wasn’t over yet.

(End of File)