THE WHEEL

Chapter 1

I've never told anyone this story, but now I think it's time.  Those who were directly involved have passed on now, and I will probably be following them before much longer.  No reputations will be ruined, no scandals about the living revealed, and the consequences of legal involvement at this late date are negligible.  However, my overriding motivation for telling this story is to, in my own small way, perhaps lay the groundwork for other women to achieve the so very satisfying relationship with their husbands that I had with my own for so many years.

I won't begin at the beginning, for that would require me to dredge up memories of my birth and infancy.  Suffice it to say that one of the most important people in my life was my Aunt Erica, whom I absolutely adored.  She always set the standard for behavior and decorum, and her stylish manner of dress was the envy of the other women in my family.  She had married well, to use the phrase that means her husband had lots of money, and so it was no problem for her to buy anything her heart desired.  Even from my early days, I knew I was her favorite of all her nieces and nephews.  She and her husband had no children of their own, and I suppose the attention she lavished on me started as displaced mothering, but as she said later, by the time I passed puberty she began to experience feelings of another sort for me.

As my high-school graduation present, Erica and her husband, John, gave me a trip on a cruise ship in the Caribbean.  They reassured my parents by telling them I would be accompanied and chaperoned by my aunt and uncle, and that removed any objections my mom and dad may have had.  Mother knew, and probably my father also, that I hadn't been a virgin since I was 14 years old, and I'm sure they thought that if I went on the trip alone, I'd come back pregnant.  What they didn't know was that I had discovered a burgeoning interest in members of my own sex during my high-school years, and although I'd had dates with boys for school functions, none of them were more than casual acquaintances.  For sexual liaisons, I always chose other girls, and firmly believed they were much better at giving and receiving pleasure than boys were.  I've never considered myself to be a lesbian, by any means.  I guess if I were to characterize myself, I'd have to say I was bisexual, with a strong preference for others of my sex.

The three of us flew to Miami, where we boarded the ship.  The first day was spent becoming acquainted with the vessel, and some of our fellow passengers.  Erica seemed to have several friends aboard, which I thought an unusual coincidence.  When I asked her, she said that she belonged to a club whose members were well situated in life, and who loved to travel.  She said the cruise had been a part of their plans for several months, and the idea of including me had occurred to her recently, after she'd become more familiar with my desires.  She wouldn't be any more specific than that, merely promising to explain later.  I was much too distracted by all the new sights and experiences to question her further, and was content to let her continue the conversation at her discretion.

The first evening was truly perfect weather for an ocean cruise.  The sea was dead calm, the temperature was balmy, the full moon shone across the water like a searchlight, and the stars sparkled like diamonds, seemingly close enough to touch.  It was a magical time in my young life, and I was enthralled by the whole experience.

Erica and I were standing by the stern railing, alone among the crowd, as it were.  We chatted comfortably as we watched the wake of the ship dancing in the moonlight.  After the passage of so many years, I cannot recall with accuracy the topic of our conversation, other than it was casual in nature.  What I can recall, though, is my aunt softly caressing my hand as it lay on the rail.  She then placed one arm around my shoulders, drawing me close beside her.  I'll never forget how entirely natural and right that gesture seemed, and I returned it by placing one of my arms around her waist, returning her hug.

She turned to look deep into my eyes then, and the moonlight made the years melt from her face.  She was no longer twenty years older than me, and she looked more beautiful than I'd ever seen her.  She whispered in my ear, "Shall we go to bed now, Sharon?"  I knew there was much more implied by her touch and her question than anyone standing near and overhearing would have realized.  There were no longer any barriers between us, if there ever had been, and I whispered back, "I'd like that."  With no further word, she took my hand and led me to the elevator that would take us to the stateroom deck.

Two separate cabins had been booked for the three of us, and I had assumed my aunt and uncle would stay in one, and I in the other.  My assumption was disproved as we entered the larger of the two rooms, and Uncle John was not there, as I had thought he would be.  At my unspoken question, Erica said, "He's in the other cabin, my love.  This room is for us.  I thought it best to book separate rooms, because I knew we'd need our privacy."  So saying, she once again drew me to her and gave me the most passionate kiss I'd ever received.  My shock faded quickly, and I returned it with equal fervor.

That night is at once one of my most vivid memories, and at the same time just a jumble of impressions.  I don't ever remember undressing, or Erica doing it for me, but at some point in time we were both lying on the bed completely nude.  The love she gave me that night still ranks among the best ever, but I can recall no details at all.  Our lips and tongues were joined in kisses of the highest passion, our breasts felt the delights only the mouth of another woman can give them, and our vaginas thrilled and pulsed with wave after wave of intense passion.  I've had many skilled lovers, of both sexes, in the years since I was eighteen, but I never again experienced such joy and intense excitement as my aunt gave me that night, and I hope that in my unskilled fashion, I was able to return a small amount of it to her.

The second day of our cruise was spent in what is known as "island hopping."  The ship would dock at one of the many small islands in the Caribbean, we would visit some of the shops there, and would then sail on to the next stop.  Erica was lavish in her attentions to me, and although John was always with us, I remember very little about his presence.  It seemed I had eyes only for my wonderful new lover, and even though in the light of day she once again looked all of her 38 years, her appearance was softened by my intense love for her.  We seemed to be holding hands or walking with our arms around each other wherever we went.  Several times we met some of Erica's friends, and they usually smiled approvingly at us, while saying things like, "It looks like things are going well for you two."  My aunt seemed to glow as she responded in affirmation, and many times referred to me as "her lover."  Rather than that making me uncomfortable, it gave me a feeling of pride that a woman of such distinction and obvious sophistication would feel that way about me.  In short, I was infatuated, and deeply in love with her.

The second night was again spent wrapped in each other's embrace, our bodies driven by our impatient passion.  Never had I known such delights, and I realized that what I'd thought of as lovemaking with my girlfriends back home was nothing more than childish fumblings.  What Erica did to me, and I to her at her direction, was true lovemaking, and it allowed me to achieve heights of passion I'd only dared dream of before.

During the afternoon of the third day, the ship docked at one of the smaller islands we'd visited so far.  As the other passengers strolled toward the row of shops lining the waterfront, which I expected us to do also, Erica took my hand and pulled me in the opposite direction.  She said, "We won't be shopping here, my love.  We'll lay over for a few days on this island, and I have something very special planned for you."  Her easy manner assured me that what she had planned would be something I would enjoy, and without hesitation I walked beside her toward a waiting vehicle, which was a gaily-painted open bus, with a fringed canvas top to shade us from the hot sun.

We took our seats aboard the bus, then waited as several couples also climbed on and seated themselves.  I noticed that all of them were her friends from the ship, and as they glanced at my aunt and I in open approval, I felt the swell of pride in my bosom.  I was consumed by the glow of new love, and felt the world was my oyster, with Erica and I two lovely pearls within.

Finally all the seats were filled, and with a glance around to make sure everyone was in his or her place, the driver started the engine and pulled away from the dock.  The trip to our destination probably took less than an hour, but I could not have told you, at that time, just how long it took, or in which direction we proceeded.  Erica was obviously very familiar with the view, for she delighted in pointing out interesting sights, even telling me interesting tidbits of local history as we passed various locations. 

All too soon the bus pulled up in front of a single-story building that was obviously commercial in nature, but that had no signs to indicate its purpose.  I assumed it to be the hotel where we'd be staying, and when we walked through the door, was sure that's what it was.  There was a check-in counter right inside the door, and all the women signed their names in the guest book.  As Erica signed her name, I glanced at the register, and saw there were no men's names there.  Every name was that of a woman, which seemed slightly odd to me.  However, there was no time to give it further thought, as we were escorted to our room by a young man who was very deferential, almost to the point I thought he was afraid of us.  I'd never before seen that sort of reaction in a man, and have to admit it gave me a secret thrill of power.

The evening had begun by the time we reached the hotel, and dinner was to be served in one hour.  Erica suggested we should take advantage of the wonderful jetted tub in our bathroom, and after quickly showering to remove the day's grime, we both settled in the warm, bubbling water.

The tub was in the shape of a rectangle, and as we lay there side by side, Erica's feet were by my head, and mine by hers.  That made conversing very easy, as we were facing one another.  However, it also facilitated our access to each other's private parts, and before many minutes had passed, her hands were pleasuring me, and mine returned the favor.  After several minutes had passed, I knew I would soon reach my orgasm, and parted my legs as much as possible to allow my aunt easier access.  Instead of giving me the release I craved, and which she had been so eager to grant before, she withdrew her hand, saying, "You need to save yourself for tonight, my love.  It will be so much better for us if you don't cum now."  That disappointed me, of course, but I implicitly trusted Erica's advice, and accepted what she had said.

As we walked to the dining room, I asked, "Where is Uncle John?  Will he be joining us at dinner?"

She squeezed my hand intimately, then said softly, "He's being prepared now.  Tonight he'll be the guest of honor."

That only served to increase my curiosity, as she had known it would.  However, she refused to answer any more questions, saying only that my curiosity would be satisfied before many more hours had passed.  That did nothing to quiet my wild thoughts, though, and by the time we had been seated in the dining room, I couldn't stop wondering what she had meant when she'd said he was being "prepared."  Given my wild imaginings by then, it would not have surprised me in the least if Uncle John had been carried to the table on a platter, roasted to a turn and with an apple in his mouth.

The reality was less than that, of course, for when the meal was served it was a very prim and proper prime rib, with every side dish one could imagine.  I'd never before dined on such sumptuous fare, and knew in my heart it would be very easy to become accustomed to such a lifestyle.  I vowed to do whatever it took to make sure my adult years would be spent in much this same manner.

It struck me as odd that our fellow diners were the five other women who had accompanied us to the hotel.  The only men there were the servants who brought the full dishes to us, then quickly whisked them away when they were empty.  They served us in total silence, and with the kind of deference and respect that is based on fear.  I couldn't understand why the men should have been so fearful, but it was obvious to me they were.  Rather than being put off by that fact, it seemed to please me.

After the desserts were served, my aunt rose to her feet, saying, "Ladies, I would like to propose a toast if I may."  As the other women murmured their approval, Erica raised her wine glass and said, "To all of us gathered here on this special night, I wish nothing but happiness and prosperity.  I love each of you dearly, but as you surely know, on this most special of nights, the love I feel for my niece, Sharon, is impossible to put to words.  To us I drink.  May our love never wane."  She made as if to drink, then paused, saying, "Oh, yes.  And may our men stay hard."  That brought a round of raucous laughter from them, and although I tried to join in, my heart really wasn't in it.  I cared only for my wonderful aunt and lover right then, and a stiff penis was not in my thoughts.  However, I did lift my glass and sip from it, to seal the toast.

Before I could drain my glass, Erica placed her hand on my arm, causing me to pause.  She said, "Don't drink it all, my love.  Save some to help wash this down."  She then took a small bottle from her pocket, twisted off the lid, and shook out a pink tablet.  It's an indication of my trust in her, and my complete distraction, that I simply took the pill from her and swallowed it.  If she intended something bad for me, I did not care.  I loved her, and was completely in her power.  I would do whatever she asked of me.

Erica then announced it was time to begin the festivities, and an immediate roar of approval from the six of them sprang forth.  I remember trying to join in, but seemed to be in some sort of haze and was unable to give throat to my own approval.  It was obvious that my unsophisticated lifestyle had left me completely unable to drink as much wine as I'd done that night, and I was feeling the effects of the alcohol.

We left the room, with my aunt and I at the head of the procession, walking arm in arm.  I was glad for her support, and was actually fearful I'd fall without her guidance.  However, by the time we walked outside, into the radiance of the silver moonlight, I was once again feeling in control.  There was one small difference, though.  Deep in my abdomen, centered between my legs, I could feel a growing heat.  At the same time, I knew my nipples were erecting, even though the only thing touching them was the smooth cloth of my brassiere.

As we walked toward a second building, the simple action of my legs rubbing together was bringing me to a state of arousal bordering on orgasm.  I wanted nothing more than to pull Erica, or any of the other women for that matter, to the grass, then rip off her clothes and make mad, passionate love to her for the rest of my life.  She never gave me a chance to do any of that, but instead just kept walking steadily, my arm trapped in hers.

We entered the building and stood in a small foyer, empty except for rows of clothes hooks attached to the walls.  Not a word was spoken as Erica turned to me, then began to unbutton my blouse.  Our five friends gathered around us, their eyes bright and their breathing beginning to quicken as it was slowly pulled over my shoulders, then down my arms.  As she reached under my arms, intending to unfasten my brassiere behind my back, I quickly raised them to give her easier access.  As she opened the fastener, our lips met, and as she slid the bra off my shoulders, her tongue entwined with mine.

She broke the kiss, then moved to stand behind me, displaying my breasts for the approval of our friends.  Their murmurs of appreciation told me they did indeed approve, and that seemed to make my already turgid nipples erect even more.  When Erica's hands began to caress them, then her fingers and thumbs to pinch and pull my buds, I was in ecstasy.  The wetness I was feeling in my pussy at that point was surely enough to run down my legs, and I longed to feel her lips and tongue there, drinking the nectar of my womanhood.

At last her hands dropped to my waist, and at the same time as she directed me to step out of my shoes, she began to push my skirt downward.  Almost before the dress had fallen to the floor, she was sending my panties to join it.  Soon I stood there for their inspection, as naked as the day I was born.  Again the murmurs of approval, and their comments about my beauty and desirability seemed to inflame me all the more.  I wanted nothing other than to tear their clothes from their bodies and give and receive their passionate embraces, feel their burning hands on my body, know the passion of their lips and tongues and they brought me to peak after peak of desire.

I stood in silence, unable to do more than barely breathe, as they began to undress.  In less time than seemed possible, their clothes joined mine on the floor, and then were hung carelessly on the pegs.  They were obviously in just as much hurry as I, but instead of pleasuring me and allowing me to pleasure them, they escorted me through the door and into the main room of the building.  What met my eyes there was beyond shocking, and my untutored brain could make no sense of it for several seconds.

The six women stood there beside me, taking in the panorama displayed before them, obviously taking great delight in both the sight, and in my stunned reaction.  At last the tableau became understandable to me, and I looked to Erica for confirmation that I was truly seeing what my brain reported.  She merely smiled conspiratorially, then turned back to gaze at the scene.

THE WHEEL

Chapter 2

What I saw were the husbands of the six women, each standing in isolation from the others.  As understanding swept over me, I saw they were completely naked, as were we women.  Their arms were drawn over their heads, with their wrists bound together by a rope that rose to a pulley fastened to a roof beam, then descended to the wall, where it was attached to what appeared to be a small hand-cranked winch.  As I looked at their crotches in turn, I recalled my aunt's final toast, and knew it had been at least partially fulfilled.  The six penises were arrayed in all their glory, and as I looked at them, I saw they were throbbing up and down in time to the beating of their hearts.  Their arousal was further evidenced by the glistening drops that had formed at the tips, and as I watched in fascination, one of the drops actually fell to the floor.  I knew the men were feeling the effects of an arousal at least equal to mine.

My uncle was also standing there, just as aroused as his five companions.  His appearance was different from the others, though.  His entire body, except for his head, had been shaved as closely as possible, giving him the pink-skinned appearance of a newborn baby.  I glanced at the others, noticing that they still had all their body hair, except for that area around their groins.  The effect was almost that of a picture frame, drawing attention to that part that stood so stiff and erect in its center. 

Again Erica took my arm, this time guiding me to the winch that held her husband's rope.  She said softly, "Stretch him, my love.  Don't stop until I say to."  She then took my hand and guided it to the winch handle.

I gave no thought to anything other than obeying her command.  My fingers closed around the handle, and my arm turned it, accompanied by a sharp clicking sound as the pawl dropped into each tooth on the geared wheel.  I watched in fascination as my actions caused the rope to tighten, and then, accompanied by a soft popping noise from his shoulders and a groan of pain, my uncle rose into the air.  I'm sure that in my fog of arousal, I'd have lifted him to the roof, but Erica said softly, "That's enough, sweetie.  We don't want him to be so high we can't reach him, do we?"  I had no idea of her meaning, but simply stopped turning the handle, allowing him to turn slowly in silence as the rope stilled.

I heard other groans, and looked around.  The other five men were also suspended above the floor, and their wives were just then walking toward them.  As we stood beside Uncle John, I knew he was in pain from the stretching, and was surprised to see his penis had not softened in the slightest.  If anything, it was bigger and harder than before, and the throbbing was more pronounced.  I watched in fascination as a drop of pre-cum formed at the tip, then slowly trailed to the floor on its spiderweb.  There was no question that he, and the other men, were aroused to heights I'd never thought possible.  As I felt the moisture beaded between my legs, I knew the same was true of me.

After assuring themselves that their husbands were ready for their further attentions, each woman walked to the far wall, where a display case had been attached.  As Erica and I reached the case, I saw that it was entirely filled with things I could not recognize, nor fathom the use of.  I was sure of the identification of only one type of thing in the case, and that was the whips.  There were many sizes and shapes of them, but all had a deadly seriousness to them.  The black leather thongs varied in number and length, but all were attached to handles just aching to be held and used by a woman.  I saw the other women taking one type of whip from the board, and almost as if in a fog reached toward the same type, eager to clutch its handle in my hand, and to swish the thongs through the air as my friends were doing.

Erica again stopped my movement, saying softly, "Not that one, my love.  The floggers are just for play.  Since this is John's last night as a man, he'll feel the pain only a cat can give."  She then lifted a particularly vicious-looking whip from the rack, at the same time indicating I was to select one just like it.  As my fingers closed around the handle, I felt a burst of flame shoot through my whole body, and knew this whip was meant for me.  I also instantly knew the use to which it would be put, and as I thought of using the wonderful, beautiful thing to punish my uncle, the wetness between my legs became an unstoppable flood.  Even without glancing down, I knew my inner thighs were glistening in the subdued lighting.  My breathing became even more ragged, and as we turned to face him, Uncle John seemed to glow with a passion that begged for us to whip him with all our might.  I for one intended to do just that.

Erica's throat was just as tight as mine as we stood before her suspended husband, and it was almost more than she could do to say, "Stand behind him.  When you whip him, use every muscle in your body.  He deserves the most harsh punishment you can give him.  Do your best, my love."  I didn't need her words to tell me to do that, for I knew deep in my soul that what was to come was something I wanted, craved, and needed with every fiber of my being.  I took my position behind my uncle, then waited for my aunt's signal.

Seeing I was in position, she reached out to his engorged manhood and gripped it as tightly as possible.  She hissed, "Spread your fucking legs!  Keep them open, damn you!"  With no response other than another moan, Uncle John began to move his feet to the sides, opening his crotch and exposing his throbbing cock and tightly drawn-up balls.  Erica then pulled his penis sharply to the side, causing him to spin as he hung there.

With no hesitation, she raised her whip high in the air, at the same time saying sharply to me, "Now!  With all your strength!"  I needed no further order, and immediately raised my whip as she had done, then brought it down with every muscle I could bring to bear.  Our whips cracked in unison as they caressed his naked body, and his cry of agony was music to my ears.  Again and again we whipped him with all our strength, our instant reward being his ragged cries of pain.

As my senses cleared slightly, I began to time my blows so they would fall on his member, knowing instinctively that was where they should be aimed.  I could see that Erica was bringing her whip up from the floor just as he was facing me, striking his exposed balls at the same time as I whipped his cock.  By the time he'd turned to face her, we reversed our strokes, and my whip caressed his visibly-swelling eggs as hers added further stripes to his bright red penis.

The minutes, or hours, we spent whipping my uncle were the most exciting of my young life.  I longed to whip him so hard that his genitals would be torn from his body; I savored every whimper, every groan, every cry of pain, every scream of agony that tore from his throat.  I undoubtedly would never have stopped if Erica hadn't placed her hand on my upraised arm, saying, "That's enough for now, dear heart.  He can't feel it any more."

I looked upward then, to his face.  His head was laying to the side, on one shoulder, and his mouth was partially open.  For a moment, I feared he was dead, but then his heaving chest told me he had only passed out from the intense pain we'd given him.  He had stopped spinning by then, and I moved slightly to gain an unobstructed view of his crotch.

The sight of his still-erect cock, with the blazing red stripes my whip had given it, brought such a flush of joy and arousal to my body that I feared I'd pass out.  Below his throbbing penis, still jerking up and down in time to his rapid heartbeats, I could see his swollen balls writhing in their bright-red sac.  It almost seemed as if they were trying to escape their prison, and flee the further punishment that was to come.  Or at least, I hoped more was to come.  Given my aunt's comment about this being his "last night as a man," my brain could come to only one end for this wonderful night.  I longed with every fiber of my being to see that happen to him, and then to the other five men in their turns.  My brain was simply overcome with lust, and it wanted nothing more than for these men, and indeed every other man in the world, to meet their richly-deserved fate this night.

Erica quietly asked me to lower his feet to the floor once again, but no further until he'd regained consciousness.  I hurried to the winch to do her bidding, eager to speed events to the next step.  It took me but a moment to understand the release mechanism, and to begin to slowly lower my uncle's unconscious body until his feet were touching the floor.  After once again engaging the pawl to hold the winch in that position, I watched Erica, hopeful she'd immediately begin some new torture, and especially hoping it would be directed between his legs, at those parts that made him a man.

I was almost disappointed when she didn't do as I'd hoped, but merely slapped him several times while calling his name sharply.  She said, "John!  Wake up!  Do not shame me by passing out."  He began to respond to her by lifting his head, and then to respond to the renewed agonizing pain in his crotch by groaning pitifully.  Erica merely said, "Stop whining!  You know you deserve this, and that you want it as much as I do.  Try to behave like a real man for once in your life."

Her harsh words seemed to stiffen his resolve, if not his cock.  That part certainly needed none of her help, for it had not softened in the least.  It remained as before, bobbing up and down and leaking its disgusting slime.  I felt a hatred for it that I'd never before thought possible, and it was almost more than I could do to not rush back to him and resume the whipping.

Seeing that he was once again in control of himself, Erica nodded to me, and I resumed turning the winch handle to lower the rope.  When his hands were low enough, she untied his wrists, then watched in silence as his arms fell to his sides.  She said softly to him, "Do you want to do this or not?  This is your last chance to back out, because after this, there will be no turning back."  He gazed at her in silence, then nodded his head while replying, equally softly, "Please don't stop.  It needs to be done.  I want you to do it.  Please."

A radiant smile burst over her lovely face then, and I was sure she was close to tears.  Her love for him was written there for all to see, and was plain in her words as she said, "Thank you, my husband.  I've known for a long time this was necessary, but it pleases me very much to hear you say it.  Now you need to give your friends their reward for being here with you, at this very special time."

As she said that, I turned to look at the other five men.  They had also been freed from suspension, and stood quietly in a line facing us, with their wives behind them.  Their cocks were also still quite erect, and given their much more subdued red marks, I was sure the floggers their wives had used on them had treated them much more gently than the cats Erica and I had used on Uncle John.

Before he could reply, she placed one hand behind his back and guided him toward the line of men, stopping when they were about two feet in front of the first one.  Erica then stood behind her husband, with both hands on his shoulders.  At her gentle urging, he slowly settled to his knees, with his head right in front of the man's engorged cock.  Almost before I realized what was to happen, my aunt said, "Open wide, honey."

He began to open his mouth then, albeit slowly.  Erica demonstrated her patience with him by saying nothing, merely standing there in silence as he reluctantly obeyed her.  Finally he must have realized he had no choice in the matter, and his mouth reached its widest opening.  She then placed one hand on the man's bobbing penis and the other behind Uncle John's head.  His initial resistance was quickly overcome, and she continued pushing his head forward until the head of the cock entered his mouth.

The man's arousal was immediately evident to all, both by his soft sigh of satisfaction and the way his hips began to thrust his penis in and out of the kneeling man's mouth.  Almost before I had time to truly comprehend the situation, a sharp intake of breath and one last thrust forward signalled what was happening.  I heard Uncle John gagging, but that reaction was quickly ended when his wife said sharply, "Stop that!  Eat what he's giving you!  You've been on the other end of this many times, and now it's your turn to be the one on your knees.  Do it!"

Her rebuke seemed to steel his resolve to not embarrass her, and I could see his throat working as he swallowed the man's semen.  I'll never forget how fascinating that sight was to me.  I knew that men sucked one another, of course, but I'd never seen it being done.  Somehow the fact that it was my uncle on his knees there, with my beloved aunt standing behind him, made the whole thing much more exciting to me.

It was over with far too soon for me, and I was disappointed to see the man pull his slightly less rigid penis from my uncle's mouth, who continued to struggle to swallow what had been deposited there just seconds before.  Before he had time to react in any other way, Erica again placed her hands on his shoulders, urging him toward the next man in line while saying quietly, "Very good, honey.  Only four more to go, then we can get started on the main event.  Hurry and get this part over with, sweetie.  I just can't wait to get you over there."

He shuffled to the next man while still on his knees, and with no urging opened his mouth and leaned forward to engulf the bobbing cock.  He seemed to be much more eager to perform as expected this time, and immediately closed his lips around the invader.  I could see his cheeks drawing inward, and knew he was sucking with all his might, trying to urge the man's semen from it hiding place.

His wait was not long, and like the first man had done, the second thrust forward at the same time as he groaned deep in his throat.  Uncle John made one tiny gag, then with almost no hesitation began to swallow the load after load that was pumped into this mouth.

The same procedure was repeated on the next three men, until finally the last set of balls had been drained.  By that time my own arousal was at a fever pitch, and I was sure it couldn't possibly increase by even the smallest amount, no matter what the stimulus.  As before during that so very exciting evening, I was wrong, as was proved by what came next.

My uncle knelt there, his throat working rapidly as he tried to swallow the sticky slime that had filled his mouth five times over.  In a very sympathetic voice, Aunt Erica asked, "Would it help if you had a drink, honey?"  He seemed to return to alertness then, and looked up to her face and nodded his head.

She said nothing further, but merely pointed to the floor with the finger of one hand.  I had no idea what that signal meant, but he obviously did, for he settled to his back, then opened his mouth wide once again.

Erica straddled his head, then very slowly began to lower her crotch to his waiting mouth.  In my semi-dazed state of mind, the significance of what was happening didn't strike me until she was settled in place, and in the complete quiet of the room I heard the sound of her stream filling his mouth.  As his throat once again began to swallow, a flush of heat swept over me that was much greater than anything I'd ever felt in my life.  My brain was afire with the thought of what she was doing in his mouth, and the apparent eagerness with which he was drinking it.  It had never occurred to me that a man and woman would do such a thing, but as I watched, and listened to, it happening right there in front of me, I knew it was a very erotic thing, and I craved to be a participant just as soon as possible.

Much too soon the sound of her stream came to an end, and as his throat worked to swallow the last drops of her golden nectar, she rose to her feet.  As his throat ceased its efforts, he whispered a heartfelt, "Thank you," for the gift she'd given him, then lay silent waiting for whatever she wished to do to him next.

She reached for his hand, then helped him to his feet also.  Once again, my eyes fell on his penis, and I knew his own lust was the equal of mine.  Where just minutes ago his pre-cum had been nothing but slowly-forming drops, it was now almost a steady trickle.  I knew he was just as ready, just as eager, for what was to come as were any of the rest of us.

Erica once again stood behind her husband with her hands on his shoulders.  Her eyes passed from one of us to the next, almost as if taking a silent poll, afraid that one of us had left the room.  I know that in my own case, wild horses couldn't have dragged me from that spot, and I'm sure the others felt the same.

At last she cleared her throat, then said softly, "My friends," then looking directly at me, "and my wonderful niece and lover: this is my husband.  I love him with all my heart, and want him to experience the most wonderful thing a woman can do to her husband.  I hope you agree with me that it needs to be done to him.  What do you say?"

She stopped speaking then, and in the stillness of the room, I could hear the rapid breathing of my companions.  The voices of the women then rang out, shattering the quiet.  All speaking at once, they cried out, "To the wheel!  The wheel!  He needs the wheel!"

Aunt Erica smiled broadly in approval, then nodded her acceptance of their verdict.  She turned Uncle John until he was facing the other way, then both stood waiting as one of her friends walked to a nearby wall and flipped a switch.  A flood of light immediately illuminated something close to the back wall of the room, something that to my fogged brain was incomprehensible.  Seemingly without urging, Uncle John began to walk slowly toward the thing, quickly followed by the group of men and women.

I hesitated only a moment before also joining in the movement.  I had eyes only for the thing standing there, and as we approached it, what had been just a jumble of parts began to shape themselves into what has been the central focus of my life for so many years.

THE WHEEL

Chapter 3

The two spotlights mounted in the high ceiling were focused on the place we approached.  In their bright light, my eyes took in the details, and as my brain processed the information, the scene resolved into its component parts.  As understanding swept over me, my throat became so tight I'm sure I would have been unable to speak if that had been necessary.  Luckily, what transpired in the next half hour didn't require me to utter any words whatsoever, but to merely follow my aunt's very clear directions as her husband met his fate.

The dominating part of the scene was a large wheel, set on edge and mounted to an axle that ran through its center.  It reminded me very strongly of a water wheel I'd seen several years before, when my family had gone on vacation through the northeastern United States.  One of our stops had been at a grain mill that had been built before the Revolutionary War, and all the machinery there had been powered by a wheel that was driven by water power.

What was standing there before us was not nearly as large as the water wheel had been, but it was of much the same design.  The edge was about two feet wide, and the diameter was at least 12'.  What immediately caught my attention, though, were the two shackles fastened to opposite edges of the wheel, about 6' above the floor.  There were two more mounted farther down, also on opposite sides of the wheel, but much closer to its center.  There was no doubt whatsoever how the shackles would be used, and my certainty was confirmed seconds later when Uncle John walked to the wheel.

He turned to face away from the edge, then carefully leaned backwards until his back was against the surface.  With no direction from his wife, he placed both arms above his head, stretching his hands toward the shackles.  Erica walked to one side of the wheel, at the same time looking at me and pointing to the other.  I quickly assumed my post there, and when she began to secure the shackle to his wrist, I repeated her actions on the opposite side.

His feet were still on the floor, but were not destined to be there much longer.  Erica released a pawl that was holding the wheel in position, then after nodding to me began to rotate it so that he was lifted off the floor.  I helped moved the thing higher, surprised at how heavy it was.  Uncle John's off-center weight unbalanced the wheel, and I'm sure Aunt Erica would not have been able to move it without my help.  Soon though, our combined efforts had his feet about twelve inches off the floor, and she once again engaged the stop to hold him in that position.

His groans of pain would have been pitiful in other circumstances, but right then I simply didn't care what he was feeling.  I know from repeated experiences in that room that men feel much discomfort when their bodies are forced to conform to the curvature of the wheel, but I've never thought it any more than their due for being men.  After all, they're just lower-order beings, and don't deserve the kind of caring treatment that women deserve.  Don't you agree?

Erica then knelt by his feet, which were resting on the surface of the wheel.  She gripped one of his ankles, then after nodding to me to indicate I was to duplicate her actions, she began forcing his lower leg toward the shackle.  It required a great deal of force to draw his leg that far over the edge and down the wheel, but I was at last able to get the shackle fastened around his ankle.  My lover had finished binding his other ankle before I did, and was already standing beside her husband, listening to his whimpers of pain, by the time I finally stood also.

His crotch had been spread to an extent I wouldn't have thought possible.  The curvature of the wheel, plus the extreme stretching we'd given him, caused his penis to jut from his body, seemingly twice the size as before.  I had never before seen such a large cock, which was in no way surprising, given my very limited experience with members of the male sex.  The boy who had taken my virginity was the same age as I was then, which was 14.  His penis probably was no longer than four or five inches, and given the short amount of time required for him to discharge his semen, I had very little chance to examine it.  After that experience, I'd turned my attentions to other girls, and had never seen any other cock in any condition, let alone erect.

Now, though, there was one belonging to a mature male standing proudly right in front of my eyes.  I couldn't stop my legs from moving my eyes as close as possible to the wheel, and I had my first-ever closeup view of one of the things.  I guessed at the time that my uncle's penis was at least eight inches long, and given the experiences I had with it several times after that night, know that estimate was short by almost two inches.  The diameter of it was also impressive, and I know now that it measured more than two inches through.  Even though I had no interest in males at the time, his cock was still impressive.  I have to admit that it gave me an additional thrill in my crotch to think of the thing buried deep there, even though at the time I had very little outward desire for such a thing.

Aunt Erica allowed me no more time for my examination, and her eagerness to get on with the ceremony was evident for all to see.  I heard her say, "Thank you, Freda," and when I glanced at her, saw she was looking at one of her friends who had brought a small three-legged table and set it down close to the front of the wheel.

I looked down at the table then, and what I saw there destroyed any last shred of doubt that what I had thought was going to happen to Uncle John might be just my overactive imagination.  I saw a metal tray resting on the tabletop, and the five items inside it were starkly simple, yet so very exciting when viewed in the context of that night.

The first item I saw was a metal tube, about one foot long and less than 1/4" in diameter.  One end of the tube had been filed to a rounded shape, and polished to make it smooth.  Laying next to it were two lengths of wire, each one foot long.  The fourth item was a pair of simple pliers.

It was the final thing, though, that was the most exciting of all.  Gleaming in the bright light was a strangely-curved blade of highly-polished steel, at least one foot in length.  It was attached to a very ornate handle, in which had been set jewels of red, green, and white.  I know now that the knife was of the type called a "kris," and it had come from Malaysia many centuries before.  That same knife had been used for many decades by members of our group, and continues to be used for its intended purpose.  Even though I knew nothing of its history at that time, it was still a thing of beauty and power to my eyes, and I was almost consumed with an impatience to see it put to use.

Aunt Erica, though equally as anxious as I, knew the prescribed steps had to be followed in preparing her husband for his part in what was to come.  She picked up the tube, and after showing it for the approval of her friends, came to stand directly in front of the still-throbbing penis, now a bright red from the stimulation we'd given it with our whips.  Without looking at me, she said softly, "Sharon, hold it still so I can get this in it."

Almost as if in a dream, I reached both hands toward the thing jutting so proudly there.  I wrapped one hand around it, close to its base, then repeated that action with the other, but farther up the shaft.  As I had guessed, even with both my hands covering most of the shaft, there was still at least two inches exposed.  His equipment was truly impressive to my untutored eyes, and somehow that just made it all the more exciting that it would soon meet its fate.

As soon as I had brought his bobbing penis to a halt, Erica placed the rounded end of the tube against the tiny slit in the head.  She began forcing the thing inside him, using a twisting motion to facilitate its passage.  The pre-cum welling up around the tube as it was driven in place was a very effective lubricant, and in less time than it takes to tell, it had been seated almost all the way.  Even given the length of his manhood, I was sure the tube had entered his body beyond his balls. 

Erica then said to me, "Now pinch the head against the tube and wrap your other hand around the base of his balls.  Pull them apart as far as possible.  Use all your strength, and don't stop until I tell you to."

It took my fogged brain just a split second to understand her instructions.  Quickly the thumb and forefinger of my left hand pinched the head of his cock as viciously a possible, squeezing it against the metal tube.  My instant reward was his gasp of pain, followed by a low moan in his throat.  My right hand, seemingly of its own accord, wrapped around his sac and squeezed it with a violence equal to what my left was doing to his glans.  With no hesitation, I began to force one hand toward the roof, and the other toward the floor.  Again I was gratified to hear him groaning in pain, which seemed to cause me to redouble my efforts.

Erica had picked up one of the wires from the tray, and when she was at last satisfied with my efforts, she double-wrapped it around the base of his shaft, as close as possible to my lower hand.  After twisting the ends, she used the pliers to draw the loop even tighter, even to the point it sank from sight in his flesh.  That simple operation seemed to create additional agony for him, and caused him to groan in the most pitiful and delightful way imaginable.

As I continued to hold his penis in position, Erica wrapped the second wire around his shaft slightly above the first.  She again used the pliers to tighten the twists as much as possible, but this time no further reaction was produced, which in my extreme state of mind I found disappointing.  It seemed that my aunt had released a sadistic side of my personality that had been completely submerged before, and I reveled in it.  I was sure that my vicious appetites would be whetted in the moments to come, and could hardly wait for the next step to begin.

I was surprised to see my uncle's cock standing quiet when I released it at Erica's signal.  Somehow its frantic bobbing and dripping had fueled my desires to see it punished, and now that it was at rest, as if resigned to its fate, I was almost overcome with the urge to slap it as hard as possible to make it react.

She didn't give me time to do that, however, but immediately began the final phase of this wonderful ceremony.  After placing the pliers on the table, she removed the kris from the tray and held it high above her head as she faced her friends.  She then recited a mantra I've heard many times since, and even gave voice to, with minor variations, on half a dozen occasions when one of my men was on the wheel.

She said in a firm voice, "This man has fulfilled the first part of his destiny.  It is time for him to begin his second life, but as a man no more.  This man, my husband, will henceforth be known as my eunuch."

With no further word, she turned to face Uncle John, who was now lying there in stillness, as if he, like his penis, had become resigned to his fate.  She approached his side once again, then placed one hand on the upper part of his shaft.  The blade of the knife was placed against his cock, between the wires, and she paused to look directly into the eyes of her husband.

I also looked to his face then, just in time to see him nod to her.  She whispered a soft, "So be it," and returned her attention to his crotch, as did everyone else in the room.

The blade must have been razor sharp, for when she pressed it lightly against his trapped flesh, while drawing it slowly toward herself, it began to sink out of sight.  There was a small spurt of blood, but it quickly ceased. 

She continued the cut until the edge touched the metal tube, then began to move the handle in a slow circle around his penis.  When she had cut as far as possible in one direction, she started again at the original area and moved the blade the opposite way.  At last the two slices joined, and everyone there knew he was no longer a man.

Aunt Erica handed the knife to me, without releasing her one-handed grip on what used to be her husband's cock.  As soon as I'd taken it from her, she gripped the severed flesh with both hands, then began to slide it up and off the tube.  In less time than it takes to tell, she was holding the thing high above her head, just as she had held the knife only moments before.

As the applause and cries of approval rose to the roof, I joined in, almost frantic in my efforts to be more enthusiastic than anyone else in the room.  There was one person, though, who didn't join.  When I looked once again at Uncle John's face, I saw his head was lolling against the wheel, and his eyes were closed.  Only his heaving chest testified to the fact that he was still alive, and had only passed out.

After Erica placed the severed thing in the tray, no more attention was paid to her husband by any of the women in the room, including me.  I was aware that the other men were removing him from the wheel, and carrying him from the room, but other than that, I have no memory of him after that time, because I had more important things to occupy me.

My lover clasped one of my hands, then led me to a place close by, were several thickly padded mats lay on the floor.  The other women gathered around us, and I felt their hands and their lips begin to explore my body.  Their attentions were centered on my aunt and I, and as we settled to the mats, side by side, our legs were spread and the pleasures I received caused me to forget about anything else in the world.

That night is still little more than a jumble of memories to me.  I was kissed, licked, sucked, and fucked by the six women, and I did my best to return their attentions.  There is no way for me to know how many times I climaxed, but it had to have been several.  Erica told me the next morning than she had cum three times, and had personally made me do so twice.  She thought her friends had given me at least six orgasms, and probably more.  Whatever the count was, I know it was the most wonderful night in my memory up to that time, and in many ways, even for the remainder of my life.  As Erica said, the first time is absolutely the most exciting.  I have to agree.  I have always climaxed multiple times after the ceremony, but never has it been as exciting as that first time.

There is one part of what we did, and what was done to me, that will forever stand out in my memory of that night.  It involved the use of a very special device that would probably be described as a marital aid in other situations, but in the way it was used then, had nothing to do with the institution of marriage.  In contrast, it was designed for use by two women, and even now, when I think of it, I feel a small twinge of excitement.

The thing was referred to by my friends simply as a "double," although in other situations since, I've heard it called a double dildo.  It had four extensions, two on each side of its center.  The extensions looked to me, on that first occasion, to be very accurate replicas of penises.  On each side there was one large one and one small one.  In use, two women would lie crotch to crotch, with the larger dildos inserted in their pussies, and the smaller in their other openings.  They would then endeavor to give their partner as much pleasure as possible by moving their crotches back and forth, in essence "fucking" each other.  It may not sound like much to you who are reading this now, but in reality it is very much the best fucking I've ever had, both then and afterwards.

I have no way of knowing when the night ended, or of how I ended up in the bed I shared with Erica.  However, that's where we were when I awakened late the next morning, and where the things she told me altered my life forever, and set me on the wonderful path I followed forever after.

THE WHEEL

Chapter 4

When I awakened the next morning, the sun was already approaching its zenith in the sky.  As my sleepy eyes focused, I saw Erica lying there beside me.  Her head was propped up on one elbow, an she was looking at me and smiling.  When she saw I was awake, she said, "Good morning, lover.  It's a good thing you didn't sleep a few minutes longer, or I'd have said, 'good afternoon.'  Did you sleep well?"

I thought about my answer for a few seconds, then replied, "I feel more rested that I ever have.  My body feels so stiff and sore that I must not have moved all night."

She smiled once again, then said, "You did enough moving yesterday evening, after the ceremony, to last for several days."

As she said that, the memories came flooding back.  In an instant, I relived the whipping we'd given Uncle John, then watched him suck off his five friends.  Again we secured him to the wheel, stretched and tied off his penis, then cut it free of his body.  After that, the images were jumbled, but I knew I had climaxed time after time as fingers, tongues, and the wonderful double had stimulated me.

Now the aftereffects of all that swept over me, and my soft groan acknowledged the way my rubbed-raw nipples and my stretched holes were feeling.  The taste in my mouth told me I'd eaten more pussies in a few hours last night than in all my high-school years with my lovers, and the delicious smell in my nose was making me want even more right then.

Even more than that, though, was the sense of disbelief I had that all those supremely exciting things had actually happened.  I was afraid if I thought about it, I'd realize the whole night had been nothing but an intense dream.  Almost afraid to learn the truth, I lowered my eyes and asked softly, "Did it really happen?  Please tell me it did, and that I wasn't dreaming."

She hugged me to her then, and stroked my hair for awhile before at last replying, "Every memory you have is real, dear heart.  I know what you mean, though.  When I awakened after my first ceremony, I thought it had been just a dream.  However, I can assure you it was very real.  Of course, if you don't believe me, you can take a peek at your uncle's crotch the next time you see him."  She broke into laughter then, and I couldn't stop myself from joining in.

Finally we quieted, as she said, "Now, I'm guessing you have lots of questions.  I know I did when it first happened to me.  Before you ask them, how about letting me tell you as much as I can about what you saw last night, and why it happened.  Okay?"  I nodded my assent, and she continued, "But first, I'm starved, and I'm sure you are too.  Let's get dressed and go have something to eat, and I'll tell you everything then."  Again I nodded, and we got out of bed and rushed through getting cleaned up and dressed.  In truth, I was famished, but even more than my hunger, I needed to satisfy my curiosity.

_________________

Our meal was served as we sat at a small table on an open-air verandah.  The waiter demonstrated the quiet deference I'd noticed in other men at the hotel, and once again I loved the feeling of being treated as a superior being.  Somehow it just seemed so right that males would feel that way toward us, and would have learned their place.  In a tiny part of my mind, I knew that when we returned to "normal" society, it would be difficult to stop myself from expecting that sort of treatment all the time.

As we ate, Erica began her story.  I sat in silence, almost dumbfounded that such things could be happening, and had been happening for centuries, with no notice being taken by the world at large.  As she said many times during our long association, "Money talks, and when it says 'shut up,' people do it."  I've learned the truth of that many times over during my long association with The Sisterhood, and have seen it demonstrated time after time.  Money buys silence.

She began her narrative by saying, "I belong to an association of women known by various names, but usually referred to simply as 'The Sisterhood.'  What written records we have suggest that we're an offshoot of the Sisters of Lesbos, which is a group of lesbians.  Since our members are bisexual, it was probably better for all concerned to split off from the parent group. 

No one knows for sure when the group formed, but we do know that it was in full operation during the heyday of Roman society, well over 2,500 years ago.  In fact, according to many records, it was much more open then than it is now.  It was an accepted part of the culture that women could be in charge of sexual relationships, and if that meant that men would lose part of, or even all, their sexual equipment, then that was just the way it was.  I wish we could be more aboveboard now, but given the sexual repressions the 'great' religions foist upon an unsuspecting public, it won't happen.  It's a shame, because openness could solve so many of the world's problems.  We firmly believe that most of the horrible stuff that happens now is due to the sexual repressions of males.  We could help them, if given a chance."

At that time, I was only 18 years old, and had very little understanding of the truth of what Aunt Erica was saying.  Now, with the perspective of my long years, I know with no doubt whatsoever that she was correct in her assessment.  I've seen men undergo complete changes in their attitudes after their visit to the wheel.  In many cases, out-of-control males were taken there and completely neutered.  In the space of just a few weeks, their whole outlook on life improved, and they became better persons because of what had been done to them. 

As I sat entranced by her story, she continued, "The Sisterhood has survived the test of time because it meets a great need, both in women and men.  Many women feel the need to dominate their men, and fortunately for us, many men feel the need to be dominated.  Our group gives both sexes an outlet for their needs and desires.  Not all of our men are brought to the wheel, but most are.  What we did to John last night is the usual case, but some men are castrated instead.  In a few cases, everything is removed, to make the man a total eunuch."

"One of my friends did that to her husband, then took him to a plastic surgeon in Switzerland, where he was given what's known as 'transgender' surgery.  The surgeon made a little pussy in his, or I guess I should say 'her' crotch.  After several months of hormone treatments, and breast implants, what was once the woman's husband became her lesbian lover.  Kind of exciting to think about, isn't it?"

I nodded my head in agreement, since my throat was too tight to utter any sound.  By the time I'd taken a sip of water so I could speak, she had already begun speaking again.

"What we did to John last night will forever be in your memory as the turning point of your life.  After this time, you are no longer a girl, but a true woman, in every respect.  When you think of that occasion, you'll feel a warm glow in your whole body, but most especially so in your pussy.  I know, because I still get that same glow when I think of my first ceremony.  Of course, one thing that made it so much more special to me was the fact that the man on the wheel was my brother."

She paused with a mischievous smile on her lovely face, giving me time to absorb the full implications of what she'd just said.  For my part, I was stunned, and unable to reply, or even react for what seemed like several minutes.  At last, though, I regained enough self control to stammer, "You mean . . .  You did that to Daddy?"  I knew what her answer would be, because of the simple fact that she had no other brother, or sister for that matter.

She almost broke into laughter at what must have been a very comical expression on my face, but was able to reply between chuckles, "Yes.  That's exactly what I mean.  You've never suspected, have you?  It's to your mother's credit that you never knew.  It's always been assumed it would be my job to introduce you to The Sisterhood, and the look on your face just now has made the whole thing worthwhile."

Seeing that I was unable to utter any more words, she continued, "Do you remember when you were six years old, and spent a month with your cousins in California?"  I did in fact recall that time, because it was the first time in my life I'd been away from my parents for more than a few days.  In answer, I nodded my head, and she went on.

"That was when your father was brought down here, and he took his rightful place on the wheel, just as your uncle did last night.  Your mother has always said it was the best thing they'd ever done, and she knew from that instant she wanted the same thing to be a part of your life.  That's when the decision was made that John would be altered right after you graduated from high school, and that you would be a part of the ceremony."

"We've monitored your progress through the years, and have been gratified to see your personality develop as it has.  I can't tell you how happy it made us when you began to choose lovers from your own sex.  I'm sure it helped that your first experience with a male was so disappointing for you, but even with that, you had to have the predilection towards other women to guide you.  Your mother and I share that particular mindset, so I guess it's no surprise you would also do so."

The information she was giving me was threatening to overload my racing brain, and to give myself time to think, I said, "Well . . .," then paused to sip my water before continuing.  After clearing my throat one more time, I asked in a weak voice, "How did you know all that about me?"

Again she smiled, accompanying it with a pat on my hand.  She answered, "When you become a mother yourself, dear heart, you'll understand.  When a girl has had her first sexual experience, she simply acts differently.  You were no different.  Your mother noticed the change almost immediately, and she talked to me about it.  A little detective work on our part was all that was required to be pretty sure we knew the boy who was involved.  The way you showed very little interest in males after that time told us the experience had not been a good one for you.  You shouldn't feel alone in that, though, since the overwhelming majority of girls share that with you.  However, many of them seem to be slow learners, and go right on trying.  The ones who are like us quickly realize that sex with their own kind is much better.  I'm sure you'd agree on that point, wouldn't you?"

She paused then, waiting for my answer.  I could tell she truly wanted to know my opinion, and so considered it carefully before saying, "Yes.  It's much better with other girls.  They're so much more willing to return the pleasure I'm giving them.  With boys, it always seems they don't care about anything other than their own satisfaction.  Of course, you already know that's how I feel, don't you?"  Before she could speak, I added, "Still, it's kind of embarrassing to be talking about this with you.  That's strange, isn't it, given what we've been doing for the past three nights?"

She laughed softly, and tenderly stroked my hand again.  "No, my love.  You can't help the dysfunctional conditioning our society has imposed on you.  Everyone shares that burden with you, to one degree or another.  However, now that you've seen it doesn't have to be that way, you'll become much more comfortable with your sexuality, just as I did, and just as thousands of other women have done through the ages."

We finished our meal in companionable silence then, each lost in our own thoughts.
_________________

After a short stroll around the grounds of the hotel to settle the meal, we returned to our room.  As soon as the door had closed behind us, Erica drew me to her and kissed me with passion evident in every fiber of her being.  As we paused to breathe, she said, "I need you very much right now.  What we did last night rekindled a fire that I thought had subsided.  I guess the combination of a new lover, and finally turning my husband into a eunuch, has provided a stimulation I haven't had in years."

When I replied that I needed her just as much as she did me, she quickly undressed me.  When I returned the favor, she took my hand, but instead of leading me to the bed, as expected, we made our way to the shower.  After quickly soaping and rinsing each other, probably more thoroughly than absolutely necessary, we almost ran to the bubbling hot tub on the deck outside our room.  The time we spent there, and in the bed for several hours afterward, are among the most pleasant in my memory.  My aunt was a very skilled lover, and I sought to return a thousandfold every pleasure she gave me.  Judging by the intensity of her orgasms that afternoon and evening, I think I came pretty close to succeeding.

At one point in our lovemaking, Erica reached under the bed and brought out the wonderful double dildo that had given me so much pleasure the night before.  Instead of inserting it in our respective openings, as I hoped, she held it between us, as if inspecting it.  She looked at me, then said, "I want you to look at this more closely than you did last night, Sharon.  It's always been very special to me, and I want you to know why."

I took the thing from her and held it close to my eyes, examining it closely.  In the light of day, I could see details that hadn't been noticeable in the room last night.  I could see that the thing was not a single piece, as I'd assumed.  Instead, each of the four dildoes was mounted on a framework of stiff rubber.  The very realistic details on the fake penises must have taken hours to add, and it was difficult for me to believe anyone would go to so much trouble to fabricate a sex toy.

I was studying one of the dildoes in quiet concentration when Erica said softly, "They're not plastic, my love.  They're very much real."  She said nothing else, waiting for my reaction.

That was not long in coming, and almost as if by instinct, I dropped the thing on the bed.  She laughed, then picked it up in a manner that was almost loving.  She touched one of the two larger penises, saying, "This one was on the first of my lovers to be brought to the wheel.  I always take special care to use this particular double, since I love to have another woman fuck me with the cock that used to belong to him.  It's the small one on the other end that's probably even more special, in many ways.  It's your father's."

Again I was speechless, and could do nothing more than lie there in silence, my wide-open eyes staring at the thing she was holding.  It was shocking enough to learn that the penises were real, not fakes.  It was beyond shocking that one of them, and undoubtedly the one that had been in my puckered opening last night, used to be attached to my father.  I tried to say something, but simply couldn't force my throat to utter a sound.

Erica smiled lovingly at me for several seconds, then asked, "Do you feel sickened by what I've just told you?"

It required almost no thought to answer, and I said, "Oh, no.  It's not that at all.  It's just that what you said was so unexpected.  Actually when I think about it, it's kind of funny, isn't it?"  I took the double from her and pinched the head of the cock in question, almost as if trying to get some sort of reaction from it.  "In a way it's very fitting that the penis that made me should be the one to bring me so much pleasure."  With no further words, I scooted down in the bed and aligned my crotch with hers.  I asked, "Would you put it in me, my love?  I want you to fuck me with Daddy's pecker."

We both laughed then, but soon became deadly serious as our crotches thrust at each other, trying with all our might to impale the other as deeply as possible.  As the waves of pleasure swept over me, I knew to the depths of my heart and soul that I had found the lifestyle meant for me.  And I vowed to do everything in my power to continue living it, and to introduce as many women as possible to it.  I've done so ever since that day.  This story is my last attempt to show women what is possible for members of our sex.  I hope many of them will follow in my footsteps, and those of countless women who have come before.

The End