Page 28 of Blowing Off Steam

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Calliope as Field shoved Rushy to a coat hook in the wall. Calliope whisked the garments that hung from the hook, and Field commenced binding Rushy’s wrists behind his neck with anchor hitch knots. “This fellow thinks he can just maul me whenever the mood strikes him. What do you say, Field? Shall we show him what it feels like to want to spend but not be allowed to?”

She was at her valise shuffling around for something as Field cinched Rushy’s wrists to the hook just slightly above his head. Field admired the way Rushy’s cock and scrotum filled his broadfall admirably, already inflamed by their bawdy talk. Field couldn’t resist sliding his hand down the hot, tight abdomen to cup the bulging crotch in his hand. The massive bull’s penis twitched when Field tickled it with his thumb.

“Yes,” Field said steamily against Rushy’s splendid underarm that radiated wood and cigar smoke, manly scents he’d never known made him hot. Field buried his face in the silken hair of the hollow while squeezing the jutting tool, and he licked and nibbled at the velvety spot to stimulate Rushy even more. Gooseflesh rose on Rushy’s arms and chest, pebbling his nipples. The sight roused Field to pinch the nipple, making Rushy gasp, but Calliope now slapped Field’s hand away.

“No touching!”

She echoed his own words, so Field had to retreat, content to merely tickle the silken underarm with his fingertips.

“Listen,” Rushy said huskily, his voice drenched in the saloon’s cigar smoke. “I’m not a fellow as can take much abuse.” Was Rushy faking the tremor of fear in his voice? “I ran away from school when the headmaster beat me with a ruler.”

What was Calliope doing? She posed before Rushy in her salmon-colored dressing gown, one hand atop the braids piled on her head, the other on her hip. “Oh, we’re not abusing you, my little tadpole.” She ran her palms up her stomach to cradle her own juicy titties in her hands, her breasts so bursting they nearly popped from the confines of her corset. “We’re just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” She posed like a burlesque dancer, in profile, so Rushy could get an eyeful of her uplifted bosom.

Field was agape at her brazenness, too. Didn’t she realize she was torturing him as much as she was Rushy? Field’s own dear wife Victoria, a Puritan from Pennsylvania, had never touched herself in any manner. That he knew of. Then again, her dressing gown was of dark blue flannel and underneath she wore another long flannel toilette. And if Victoria had seen this flashily colored striped corset, she would have thought it was a table centerpiece.

“Oh, land’s sake,” Rushy groaned, squirming like a fish on a hook. “This is torture, of the worst sort. Please, Field. Take out my cock.”

Field’s hand delved into the humid depths of Rushy’s crotch, and he nearly groaned himself when he wrapped his fingers around the stiff root of the prick. His other hand unbuttoned the broadfall to allow the drooling cock into the air.

“Field, please,” Rushy pleaded. “Stroke me. Do something. I can’t watch that vixen touch herself. I’ll go loco.”

“Oh, you’ll be touched, all right,” said Calliope as the pink gown sleeves slid to her elbows. With hands on hips, she turned to allow Rushy to see her bare back, and she wiggled her ass like a giant plumed bird. Balancing her chin coyly on her shoulder, she added, “Touched in the head.”

Rushy squeezed his eyes shut as Field plunged his fingers into the bush at the base of his prick. Field didn’t know Calliope’s aims, so he was afraid to do more than nuzzle the long erection at the juncture of his fingers. Her aim became clear when she materialized a long white plume from the bodice of her corset. She brandished it like a magician, swishing it about in the air while crooking her finger for Field to approach.

He reached for the ostrich plume, but Calliope held it fast in order to glide her palm over his hip and take a big squeeze of his pulsating cock. Field gasped to finally feel her touch, and he hoped she wasn’t disappointed that his cock wasn’t quite as monumental as Rushy’s own horse’s tool. Balancing himself by gripping her powdery, bare shoulders, he arched his pelvis into her hand.

“Does that make you hot?” she asked with an effective combination of sweetness and filth.

“Of course it does,” he said breathlessly.

“Not this,” Calliope said, clutching his cock so skillfully he thought he might faint from lack of air. “I mean Rushy. The first two times I watched you, you were sucking each other’s tongues. The second time, Rushy stroked your cock until you ejaculated in his hand. Does it make you hot, looking at his beautiful, manly body?”

Field could admit no such thing, so Calliope held the ostrich feather further back. “Now, now. I’m not going to give you this feather until you say it aloud.” Yet she squeezed his prick even more fervently, using the ball of her palm to massage the bursting glans, like he’d done to Rushy last night. “Say it, Field. Say you love looking at Rushy’s beautiful…long…thick…erect cock.”

Field gulped heavily, wishing he had something to drink. All in a rush, he said, “I lust after his long thick prick and wish I could suck it down my throat.” There! This masterful hellcat he was in love with! She tortured him into admitting shameful things he would never admit to a wall.

When he opened his eyes, her shapely mouth was curled into a smile. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” She tickled his lower lip with the white feathers, then handed him the plume.

Now that he could breathe, he whipped the plume from her hand and, crushing her ass in his other hand, jammed their pelvises together. Why should he not torture her? He kneaded the entire length of his prick directly over her pubic mound and licked those wet strawberry lips. Over her shoulder, he could see Rushy’s reflection in the mirror, cock taut at attention, turning purplish from craving, hips straining forward. “It’s not difficult to admit I desire someone who is so…utterly desirable,” Field said ambiguously.

Kissing her, he ripped the light pink gown from where it hung at her elbows, leaving her nude aside from the corset, turquoise stockings, and those infernal heeled slippers. He slapped her bare ass as her headmaster must have done, causing her to jump and her eyes to shine. He gathered her to his crotch again, only this time he bent at the knees and snaked his long fingers from behind into her juicy crack, gratified to feel her pussy juice drip over his fingers.

“Oh,” Calliope said with wonder as his fingers performed an eager glissade past her slit to her button. “Oh!” She jumped a full foot when he struck the swollen, distended clitoris.

Again there was a jealous twinge in his stomach. She’d best not be this wet for Rushy. To ensure this, he diddled her slick button with dexterity as she fairly climbed up his thigh, emitting tiny, feminine gasps. “Engineers are nimble,” he said slyly before diving in to take a large slurp from her bosom.

“Oh, dear God!” she cried. “Field!”

“Hey!” Rushy bellowed. “Ah, I’m over here? You’re torturing me pretty nigh into fits here.”

But Field’s mouth was plastered to the valley between Calliope’s ample titties, his fingers describing all manner of Arabian symbols to the sides of her elongated clitoris. What did he care for Rushy? Let him stand there tied to a coat hanger, his beef bobbing there stupidly, pants around his ankles.

“Ah!” Calliope cried in an impossibly high pitch as he struck a particular nerve. But she stamped her little heels firmly to the deck and shoved him away with both palms flat against his shirtfront. “Not yet!” she huffed, panting and shiny-eyed. “What do you think that plume is for? Go, man, go!” She pointed at Rushy.

All right, if that was the way it was, then! Like a stubborn youth, Field approached his erect partner. Seeing the pleading, vulnerable cast to Rushy’s chiseled face, Field reveled in his power again. If neither he nor Calliope could gain satisfaction before this lummox did, well, he would wield that power to the utmost!

Field leaned on the bulkhead next to Rushy and casually tickled just the very purple tip of the penis. His other hand slapped the muscular haunch he so admired, and Rushy gasped at the sudden pain and pleasure. Field took his cue from Calliope when he said salaciously, “You like this, don’t you? Having your big horse’s cock tickled with this feather? You’ve got a big, juicy prick. But you know that, don’t you? How many other men have you tormented with this juicy, long horse’s cock, partner?”