Ken's Birthday Gift Revisited

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2023 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/m; M+/f; cuckold; voy; teen; cuffs; collar; bond; outdoors; costume; group; strip; oral; sex; climax; cons; XX

Continues from

There is some necessary fiction here, if I were to tell this too precisely it has the potential to "out" a few people that I just can't do that too, even now.

Part 3

… Drifting up out of a dead sleep can be kind of wonderful on a lazy Saturday morning; kind of like the first day of the rest of your life; sun rises and new beginnings, and maybe even a sated, fresh new outlook on one's problems. The bedroom wasn't my own and had that musty smell of sex, but so did I really; neither of those were strictly speaking a first for me at this point with Ken, been there and done that already with him quite recently, in this very same bed. At least half of last night felt like deja vu to me, like the last time up here with Ken was a play rehearsal, and this was the show, the actual play; and as such I felt a little bit like I was on autopilot, like watching another do those rather wild but practiced things. It was wonderful being with Ken like this, but this time not really a new adventure, but just a replay of a rather enjoyable old one, with several subtle changes…

Could something this extraordinary actually get boring and routine with enough repetition? I asked myself; it seemed unfathomable to me only a few weeks earlier. Hanging from the beams by my wrists had seemed like an awesome dream-like unattainable feat, like naughty nirvana to me, but something else next time I think. Maybe not a "never again" kind of event for me, but not again in the near future anyway, been there and done that, and the other possibilities with Ken, with or without that found bag of restraints, were only limited by one's imagination and willingness…

In the here and now I was also just a little sore from my extended time spent with Ken, but deliciously so, this as well something a bit different as I assumed my body was becoming more accustomed to him and his larger proportions every time, his more aggressive lovemaking too. Ken was rough, but in a "I don't always know my own strength" kind of way, where my guy was tender and sweet. If I made the wrong kind of noise with my guy he'd stop dead for fear of actually hurting me, such a contrast between both young men; one most certainly the "giver," and the other leaning more towards the "taker" spectrum of human characteristics. That's honestly a bit of an oversimplified view, but please bear in mind that I was trying to work that all out in my teenage brain, and to the best of my recollection this was more of my "back then" mindset.

When I got myself seriously amped up on lust though - then, or much less frequently now - rough was what I was after, that was the one sure way to scratch this proverbial itch of mine, something I only learned after our first camping trip together. Before that trip I didn't even know I had an "itch," and after, the one sure-fire way to satisfyingly scratch it was Ken; "a hair of the dog that bit you" I suppose. Before Ken, sex for us was hastily making love and filling a condom in the back seat someplace; but after that, with Ken, more of a messy quasi contact sport, so two completely different things. Now sometimes these things merged together, like with Ken after his initial round-one passion had flared, then what we did together was very close to making love, so something to muddy the waters for me, guy wise. Twice now this was in an actual bed like a husband and wife might do it, and truthfully I both liked that, and thought I deserved such. At this point I was getting oh so done with rushed back seat sex…

I couldn't exactly ask my sweet and tender boyfriend to be rough like Ken either; could I? How then to ask him to turn it on and off as my whims dictated? What if he couldn't turn it off, what if I accidentally created a monster in him? Tender and sweet was rather nice like ninety percent of the time after all, and much more in natural alignment with his overall giving character anyway. If he was willing to let me be me - pretty much without limits - wasn't I obligated to let him be him?

I guess you could easily argue that I was becoming a custom fit for Ken, in more than one way; a little good, a little bad, depending on how exactly you looked at it. This at the very least told Ken that there was a girl for him out there somewhere, that he was normal and desirable enough for that kind of long term relationship, but it may have also inadvertently sent the message that I was that girl. With the girls he had been intimate with in the past - in his string of endless short term hook-up and dump relationships - they likely hadn't had the time or desire to accommodate Ken and his rather robust personality; grow into the relationship. If sex was the draw, almost the first thing you did together as a new couple, what did that leave? Ken was a great guy, quick witted and clever with words, you just had to spend some time getting to know him to figure that part out, to learn what made him tick. If I absolutely had to, I could possibly make a life with Ken, but could he make a long term one with me? I was also already invested in that with another, a generous young man who also had some fine attributes of his own; maybe ones just not properly displayed all the time.

If I was searching for who I was, isn't it likely that he was doing the same though?

Anyway, when Ken was needy and being Ken he could be a bit rough, but overall sweet and thoughtful pretty much everywhere else. It was almost like there were two Kens, the thoughtful witty good friend Ken; and the aggressive "let's try this" Ken, the one to play with rope and restraints, or even pin you to the bed and make you struggle, the one who might even leave some bruises and love bites behind. That Ken wasn't just in it for himself though, for what he alone could physically get from the experience, but a lover who wanted it to be very good for you too, at least in my particular case.

…I know, I know, a contradiction to the taker label I just had given him, and therein lies the problem, both of these young men don't easily fit into a neat little box for me. If writing straight up fiction I could design better characters, but these other humans, just like the human telling this story, were far from perfect, and none of us really fit into a clearly defined little box…

I truthfully didn't know if Ken had been this kind of lover for his other girlfriends, if things had gotten that far along before it ended for them; Ken was a lot to physically accommodate, both in size and duration. Anyway, for me both Kens were fun and great to be around, but it would be almost like going out with two different guys if I hadn't known him so well before we did it together that first time. My guy in comparison was sweet, thoughtful, and quite deferential both in the back seat, and pretty much everywhere else, so the very definition of consistent… with extremely rare exceptions even to this day; because once again, nobody is perfect. Anyway, you might really like one version of Ken if you were an interested woman, in it for the short term physical thrill of hooking up, but what happens when you eventually meet the other Ken?

Anyway, I obviously had to act like this was a brand new adventure up here at the cabin with Ken in his uncle's bed, a first-time "that was wild!" experience; put on that kind of a fictitious show for my boyfriend, as did Ken himself. We had to pretend as if Ken and I hadn't just done almost this exact same thing, less the Barbie costume and detailed personal grooming, and of course my uniquely chained and humbled mirror-watching boyfriend. This implied lie of ours, that all this was fresh and new for us up at the cabin - kink and all - could get a bit too complicated to keep track of, but complex lies often were. With this in mind not talking about things in detail seemed safest - sometimes also interpreted as the silent treatment - but that of course comes with its own set of problems. For that matter though, how could Ken and I possibly come completely clean on what we did like two weeks earlier, especially with how badly we treated him just the night before, AFTER he had helped give such a generous and selfless gift?

Ken and I had a rather magnificent night together, lots of fun, even though it wasn't a best ever event; and my guy for his part in all this got nothing, zero. These were straight up cruel looking actions on our part, at least on first appearance, but my guy's resistance to all this "abuse" doesn't fit the standard profile of an abused young man watching his future wife getting roughly used by our best friend. This maybe wasn't exactly what he had thought would happen when he delivered Ken to his cabin, but still not exactly a hardship either. It was a lot to process, once my lust had been properly sated and I could think rationally once again anyway…

It felt like we had both gone a bit too far in the lusty moment, like we had punished him for his selfless acts and generosity, and I knew how that felt from my own experiences back home. It maybe didn't feel quite like that in the lusty moment to me, but to be brutally honest it was almost easy for me to do to him with both a little wine, and a boatload of festering desire for Ken in the mix. I had focused on Ken, and rather selfishly on myself too obviously, my guy left as number three in the pecking order of things. So, the short story was that I didn't necessarily like what I was becoming, but it was also like I was watching another do these things, things I maybe didn't approve of, but didn't bother to stop either. My guy was a great guy, and here I had sanctioned abusing him just as easily as Ken's aunt had done in the restaurant. In my defense though, it felt almost natural to do so, and he hardly put up a fuss too.

How could I possibly be crossed or disappointed with Ken's aunt, when these were my own actions on full display for easy critique? She had family bloodline concerns, and I primarily had teenage lust and adventure on my mind; the one hardly the equivalent of the other. Yes, there were other allegedly high-minded reasons to make sure Ken got through this rather rough part of his life, but how much of that was an outright mental excuse for my behavior I'll leave up to others to decide.

Dressing and preparing my body for sex with Ken, to be actually gifted to him like this, just wow though! It was an overload emotional condition for teenage-me, kind of like the camping trip, but kind of not as there was little spontaneity here. It was roughly planned out, and it actually happened, although leaving my guy to watch made this slightly less than perfect for me to be honest. I think his watching made me ever so slightly pissy towards him that night, even though staying behind and watching wasn't his idea to begin with; and yes, I know that's slightly irrational. Still, dressing up in a "costume" like this for Ken had liberated a certain part of me; I might not have been able to say and do all those things last night, but dress wearing Barbie easily could. "She" was to be both admired, and feared; but she also got what she wanted…

This percolating lust for Ken lowered my inhibitions and self-control to barbaric levels though, it brought out a side of me that I didn't know that I liked, and my less than courageous intellectual path had been to blame another, blame Barbie. This also gave me something in common with Ken's aunt; not the desire for Ken obviously, but the "at any cost" drive to create a desired conclusion between Ken and I, the same focused determination that put my boyfriend squarely in the way. It was also rather flattering to be held so high like this by these particular accomplished adults, but the fact that I had allowed myself to get manipulated and steered down this particular twisted path like this was a far greater condemnation of my lacking character rather than anyone else's. Your friends can tell you to jump off a bridge, but it's ultimately you who either jumps, or not. Yes, there were unique circumstances at work here, and to also be fair the water under this particular bridge was warm, deep, and inviting, but that sounds like an excuse to me, and I vowed not to give any while retelling this adventure if I could help it.

…Adults, even good intentioned ones, can bend unsure and just as well intentioned teens rather easily though, especially when they think their cause is just… I'll just leave it like that…

Anyway, Ken, who was the quintessential early riser, wasn't snuggled up against me as I half expected, so despite all this I was in effect waking up alone. It would have been better for me if I could have had a few private words with him before "show time" to get our stories straight, but it didn't go like that. I feared being alone almost as much as rejection, they kind of go hand in hand from a certain point of view. Maybe this is the real reason why I've somehow ended up with a steady boyfriend and a spare at this early point in my life, although not intentionally to be sure. Both were potential keepers, but very different young men, and only one of them had any actual experience in keeping a romantic relationship for any length of time; in putting up with some of my less than perfect moments. It was starting to feel like Ken got the very best of me, where my future husband got all of me, the good and the not so good.

Deep, deep down did Ken fear the same thing; becoming permanently alone one day?

Anyway, my impossibly selfless future husband and I had gone out of our way to make this birthday especially special for Ken in light of everything that had happened lately - with my own secret guilt playing it's obvious part - and on that score I think we may have even been successful; but at what eventual price? In the light of this new day with his more mellowed lust, was Ken furious at what I had casually prompted him to do to his best friend - he taking it an additional rather unintended ad-hoc cruel step with his own boiling lust - and therefore was he angry not only with me, but with himself as well for doing so; is this why he wasn't in bed with me? If I had given over to my lust last night in tunnel vision fashion - thinking with my proverbial girl parts - wasn't it possible that Ken had likely done so as well, thinking with his guy parts? He was the de facto alpha male of our little trio, but he was a male first, just twenty years old for a day and as sexually needy as any other. He even had additional pressure to find a mate acceptable to his aunt now, so some serious pressure there.

There was no anger or hesitation with his decisive actions the night before though, perhaps only mock anger and mild torment directed at my subdued future husband, but if I myself thought about things just a bit deeper after the passion had run its course, wouldn't Ken have as well? An orgasm, or several, could bring either magnificent clarity, or deep regrets. Anyway, I resigned myself to taking the full blame for whatever mood eventually awaited me, and letting the chips fall where they may; you after all can't undo what has already happened, only learn from it.

The uniquely placed cuffs had been primarily my idea, but in my highly distracted mind the night before it was all a bit more fun and playful than it maybe turned out in the flesh, despite Ken playfully dragging him around by the cuffs before locking him fast to the pole; anchoring him in place to watch the "show" by his guy parts. In my less than kind mind at that crazy impassioned moment that had been rather darkly amusing to me; his subjugation and torment at Ken's hands like this - even in mock form - had turned me on even more than I thought possible. Again, not some of my finer girlfriend moments, but it is what it is; pretend like it didn't happen, or learn something from the experience.

I obviously now suspect that I got myself way too caught up in our playful cruelty with my guy the night before, Ken taking my handcuffs suggestion and quite literally almost running with it, and with little moderating influence from me. Hell, my guy almost didn't really complain himself, he just gave this look as if to say, "REALLY?" His submission, his gift to both Ken and I was that complete. I was a little numb to his actual needs the night before though, my focus on Ken's more urgent needs, on being the perfect human gift for him. A big glass of wine and a whole bunch of building lust dressed as a human doll/sex toy obviously affected my thought processes; my filter on what I should say and do had been as turned off as I was turned on sexually for Ken.

As a result both guys got a healthy dose of raw and unfiltered me, and I just hoped that I didn't chase either or both of them away with it. It's straight up terrible to even seriously ponder, but one less boyfriend in my life might have almost uncomplicated things a bit in the short term, not that I actually wanted that though. I now had obligations to both young men, and they each had their unique role in my teen life too. One was the dominant playmate - now even the backup boyfriend - one who might even get me into some minor trouble, but also help me to escape reality for a bit. And the other was the steady reliable one, there to provide for you; give you the summer off with a car to drive and spending money too. Ken had very recently done double duty for me with my guy out of town though, and at a pretty severe cost to himself too, and I thought his birthday gift should be at least the equal of all that. Not trying to make excuses here, it was just my teen "try to be everything to everybody" mindset; everybody but my boyfriend though, oddly enough.

At that point in life I think I needed both guys though, a boyfriend and a spare, I joke in my mind today, but back in the day it was pure turmoil.

Anyway, with nature calling I got up from our destroyed and messy shared bed, looking at the condition of my pillowcase and reminding myself why I didn't wear makeup. I hadn't washed what was left of it from my face before going to sleep, and doing laundry someplace today was the obvious price to pay, unless I wanted to leave hard evidence behind that a woman had slept in Ken's uncle's bed. To be fair, there was ample evidence that something pretty wild had happened on those sheets last night anyway, both the smells and the biological residue from the both of us.

…Not that I want to keep going back to that camping trip, but that's another thing different since then for me; my production of "girl cum" or whatever you'd call it, has increased rather dramatically since then. So much so that it was a good thing that the rear seat of my guy's car was easy to clean vinyl, sometimes we drove home afterwards with the windows open to air it out after even a quick passionate romp back there. And when he's going down on me and I orgasm, just wow, I almost feel like I'm feeding him!

There oddly enough wasn't a washing machine at the cabin at this point - Ken added one later on - but still a stout dual purpose cable-run from the rear door all the way to a massive oak tree just beyond the old fenced in dog house enclosure. You could either cable-leash a hunting dog to this long run directly, or even lock him inside the fence for the night as some hunting dogs don't come inside during hunting season so as not to spoil their noses, or so I was once told. The oak tree even provided shade for any dog so incarcerated during the summer months - although captured an incredible amount of leaves for the humans to clean up too - but summer was a time when most hunting didn't happen, near where we all grew up together anyway. I don't know that Ken's uncle ever had a hunting dog of his own as he was primarily a casual fall deer hunter, but perhaps some of his hunting friends did back in the day for ducks as there was a pond very close by.

Anyway, hanging either wet laundry or hunting clothes from this cable was the more likely purpose it has served in the recent past, hunting clothes - I had also learned - don't come inside the cabin as then they would smell human. And, all of these backyard things were impossibly easy to forget about if unneeded, but I was once again reminded of them as I looked out the master bedroom windows and stretched for the rafters in just my skin. Previously they just kind of blended into the background, as if they've always been there, because for me the several times I'd been here previously as an invited guest, they always have. The old dog enclosure was maybe ten foot square, made from an eight foot tall rusty-brown old chain link fence, with Ivy growing up obscuring it further in the tree line, making it almost disappear in anything but the full light of morning. Situated as it was it would be nearly impossible to tell if a "dog" was in there or not with the door closed and latched, except for all that barking and whimpering of course.

Ken only last night had reminded me of the doghouse within, suggesting perhaps that this was a place that we could potentially dump my boyfriend in the future, if the weather was fair. So for young children a great hiding place for playing hide-and-seek, and for us now maybe just as great a place to playfully hide and safely store a teenage human for a bit that was inconveniently in our way; if he was actually willing? In my mind we had to get back to his "willing" cooperation with these games of ours, that was the crux of it. What happened last night did not feel one hundred percent that way to me in the light of this new day, and in my own mind it was therefore not something to be repeated if it didn't have to be.

The appearance of resistance yes - I even liked those things myself - but not actual "against his will" things. "Forced to watch" like on the camping trip maybe, if it absolutely had to go that way, but forced to watch something he wanted to see, even if he didn't realize it at the time. That obviously wasn't my preference - the watching part - but it wasn't always my choice either with Ken in the mix. From the stories that I've used to successfully get my guy off I know that "forced to watch" really does it for him, but I still wasn't completely sure at that point if this was a fantasy only kind of thing. He'd been forced to watch Ken and I go at it once already on the camping trip though, and he kind of got off on that, in a way; but was that a one time unique thing? His offer to Ken and I while traveling to Ken's aunt's house to pick up the bike kind of suggests differently, but how to know how he really, really feels about such things, other than to practice them.

It was a fine line to walk here, and without safe-words - which we had no knowledge of back in the day - we wouldn't do so without occasionally stumbling a bit either. If there's love, compassion, and empathy you can get through almost anything though, but turn one of those off for a bit and things get dicey…

…With little extra money and nothing to do on a rainy Saturday once - well before the camping trip - my guy and I did a free open house tour of the historic old jail; not exactly a traditional romantic date kind of an outing, but I'm quirky enough to want to do something like this; the concept of being locked up in jail kind of hot and sexy to a certain part of my brain. Just going down to the very lowest cold and damp level of that building - the oldest part of the historic old jail - on those narrow stone steps, felt very dungeon-like to me. And then looking at the small cells hidden down there while hand in hand with my guy, and then actually crouching down and stepping inside one briefly too, after being invited to do so by our tour guide; what a turn on.

The small doors and bars making up the "cage" part of each tiny cell set in the masonry walls were very imposing; cages for humans, well naughty humans to be sure, especially back in the day, it boggles the mind. Anyway, this actually left us both rather turned on; it was quite the feeling once inside with the squeaky door temporarily pulled closed too, totally different than looking in from the outside. This concept of perspective stuck with me after that, looking in from the outside was far different than looking out, or actually immersed and living the particular experience first hand. Inside the old jail cell this feeling was even present with the massive door lock disabled and permanently unlockable for the tourist's safety, but what a feeling anyway!

Our fiftyish year old retired sheriff's office volunteer tour guide had caught my eye in that instant, perhaps even seeing my flushed-face poorly hidden teenage sexual excitement, as cops are generally pretty good at reading people; but I bet he'd seen that look before a time or two. It was just a look and a slight smile with just the corners of his lips and went no further, nothing unprofessional at all, but a look can say a great deal, and I caught that man in my random wandering daydream thoughts a time or two, even visiting with me in a rather hot fantasy that I don't want to share right now…

Anyway, incarceration, getting cuffed and locked up behind bars was something that obviously appealed to both my guy and even myself too, and here in the cabin's backyard was an impossibly convenient place to potentially do something similar staring me in the face. Getting arrested, handcuffed, transported, strip searched, jailed, and then even processed before a judge like a criminal, even a mistaken one, was just something that really really turned me on back then for some reason. It actually still does to this day; perhaps it's the authority figure thing, or the helplessness, or perhaps even real world guilt over the few lies I've perpetuated over the years…

Anyway, in the here and now I want something to put on this sunny morning, as I'm not liking the idea of walking around in just my bare love-bitten skin with the chill of morning in the cabin - perhaps even more than one kind of chill awaits me out there for all I know - especially with my freshly pounded and distended girl parts hanging out for all to see in the full light of morning; bald and fully on display. Thinking about human scents and all of that, I retrieve a familiar smelling shirt from the master bedroom closet to again wear, something else to remind me that this fictitious "first" of ours wasn't really a first at all…

A picture's worth a thousand words, or perhaps even evidence of a crime, I think cynically in my mind, willing my brain to forget that particular picture even exists, seeing my captured image in my mind's eye as if still laying on Ken's uncle's bed the first time for Ken, after a slightly disappointing round one. For myself or Ken to accidentally refer to that picture, physical evidence of my being here alone with him once before, at the scene of the proverbial crime, is a sure recipe for disaster, and could leave me with one less boyfriend too. Maybe even two less boyfriends depending on how it all went down…

…Had Ken been anything but a trusted "good guy" he may well have shown that picture to my guy already with this in mind, telling his alternate version of him and I coming up here, one that might make me look especially bad. Forcing me into his arms like this was far different than cajoling me there with physical passion though, and again Ken was a good guy overall, somebody trying to figure it all out just like we were. He fortunately had a lot of playful bones in his body, just not any truly evil and self-serving ones, as far as I knew…

The cuffs are still on my wrists and ankles as I move about the room; I somehow slept with them locked on with the little padlocks, but not to each other. I could have easily removed them myself if I could only find Ken's leather toy bag, but a quick visual search of the room turns up nothing, and my time is limited with the cool air tickling my messy and denuded girl parts. The cuffs almost feel like something else too though, like a wedding ring, like quarters left on the pool table or pinball game; laying claim to the next game. It's like Ken is extending his birthday claim to my body to this next day, like I'm still bound and owned by the one who placed and locked them on. Did "we" offer the whole weekend to Ken, or just the night? I wondered, my specific memory of this little important detail suddenly lacking.

Nature is calling a bit more urgently now that I'm up vertical and out of the warm bed for a few minutes, and the cuffs are therefore a secondary consideration. It's about priorities, you have to take your hand off the hot pot on the stove before you breathe, and you need to breathe before you drink or eat; and the bathroom is fast becoming the hot pot for me. I stretch one more time for the ceiling rafters while looking up, and then out the windows; as is my well established morning ritual.

I've purposely looked up at the rafters there at the windows, half expecting to see some heavy eye hooks set in them, as to my mind this would be an ideal place to leave somebody on hanging display for a bit with these cuffs that I still wear; backlit by the morning light if the "other, or others" were still in bed and watching. This would also place one well on display from the outside of the cabin for whoever was standing in the backyard and looking in. Looking out, looking in; two totally different perspectives on the same thing, but still hot for me either way.

I had a fair amount of teenage body modesty back in the day, if in public, but the idea of being put on display like this was still a serious turn-on for me; if I was lusted up enough. I was nothing but a walking hormonal contradiction back then; so how could any "normal" young man be expected to sort me out?

This eye hook thing is of course assuming the actual owner of Ken's boat-found play bag and the cabin were one and the same, but there is just no hard physical evidence that this is the case, although if such existed it might lend further credibility to what we were getting ourselves into here, so I'm hopeful for that "truth." Still somebody bought these kinky things - even if it wasn't somebody we directly knew - and we're using them as intended, not letting them go to waste. How old are these things? I wonder, it's a fair question that I have no answer for. The boat was old enough but still well maintained and quite nice, but the wood hulled ones were getting less and less common these days too. So no older than the boat itself, logic might suggest, although they also could have been bought much earlier and placed where they were found as a "never to be found" or even a forgotten hiding place. Their condition was stiff and new in that bag, but the leather wasn't cracked from extreme age either, it's truly a mystery…

I then reluctantly exit the master bedroom, making a beeline directly for the single bathroom to use the facilities, clean up a bit, and brush out my hair. Show time, I think to myself, act three, scene one; somehow pretend like this was just as new for me up here in the cabin as it was for my watching guy, maintain that particular false illusion for him, for all three of us really. That short barefoot walk of mine towards the single bathroom wasn't exactly silent either, the tingle of my ankle cuffs and the little locks announcing my passage. I don't look for what I don't really want to see just yet, as I'm not exactly sure how I wanted to handle this, perhaps thinking the inspiration can be found in the medicine cabinet's mirror. Best case scenario, I think to myself, a near repeat of the second day camping trip, with Ken and my guy back on terms "almost" like nothing had changed between them, perhaps even cooking together again, a shared menial task to focus on rather than an awkward conversation… It's actually a good tool that I need to remember for use in the future; education is where you find it after all, and not always in the lecture hall either.

With my hair brushed out and my face properly washed I then make my way out into the living room proper, the wood covers somehow silently put back on all the posts as I slept, as if the debauchery of the night before had never happened. The physical evidence may be partially erased, but the memory is still fresh. On that note, my guy is still nude and my homemade Barbie delivery box is still inside the cabin, but now both are up against the walls of the open main room and out of the proverbial way; both perhaps needed, or not going forward, depending on how the next few minutes goes anyway.

My guy is kneeling and apparently cuffed behind his back, waiting for me like a humbled statue with expectant eyes, less his glasses, which are who knows where. Ken apparently isn't in the cabin at the moment either, so it's just he and I, and I don't know exactly what to expect with how badly I had treated him the night before, really how badly we had treated him; ganging up on him as we did, even with the more playful way I initially intended that to go.

Cuffing him as we did didn't seem all that bad in the actual lusty moment, kind of amusing actually, just the next logical step up from my bootlace leash really, but this morning sober and with sated lust I'm just not so sure on the humor part. He doesn't look angry as I approach, just impatiently waiting for me so presumably we can talk a bit in private, but not so impatiently that he yelled to wake me up - or perhaps somehow hopped himself over and used his head to knock on the closed master bedroom door - thereby pissing me off first thing in the morning; so overall I maybe see this as a good sign.

He can't be truly angry if he's that in control of himself and didn't wake me rudely; he apparently still wants to be on my "good" side. Angry obviously was one thing, hurt another, but I don't see either on his face at all, so all things considered this could be worse. He's keying off of my moods and emotions, looking for approval… but I sadly don't see this for what it is right away.

He had been on one side of that closed bedroom door the entire night, and Ken and I on the other. It's easy for me to discount the emotional wall this places between us, especially when lusted up and "in the moment" as I was. I was "busy" and single-focused entertained, and he was left looking towards a closed door and listening to the sounds coming from behind it for a good part of the night; for almost any other young man this would be simply maddening, infuriating, heartbreaking even.

We have a connection though, he and I, and that had been temporarily severed last night. He was on the outside once again, but not even able to look in this time, just listen to the sounds of the bed squeaking, the sounds of two people who were passionately getting to know each other's bodies a little bit better every time - on an actual bed this time - all while he was locked out. He participated in getting Ken to his cabin to receive his human present, and pretty much right there his active participation ended.

Sticking him in the barn likely would have been much more compassionate and humane for him as well, and I vow to not have him in attendance any more than necessary going forward. There were giggles, silent laughter, and even the quiet "stage directions" of two impassioned lovers that I don't always like; "roll over, bend your knees, right there, that feels wonderful," things like that… and he almost certainly heard them all. I was fairly numb to my guy's needs the night before with both lust and wine - out of sight, out of mind - but now that the fire is extinguished and I'm looking at him my empathy is mostly turned back on… No regrets, I promise myself. It was impossibly fun, and very good for the birthday boy too; not that he'd actually harm himself or anything like that, but one young man can only tolerate so much bad news in his life at once, and who really knows where one's limit is anyway? My guy has me for life if he still wants me after all this private insanity, and theoretically Ken is only borrowing me for a bit, due to his unique needs that I in part caused; both guys have to know this…

"Good morning to you" I offer cheerfully, pretending almost irrationally that this is any other morning, pretending that Ken didn't just like eight or ten hours earlier rip my clothes off and string me up from the rafters, and then finger-F me into near oblivion, right where my guy could watch once again, all as he saw what was for him a first time thing. Ken took me almost all the way to the moon on just his fingers alone, I was that lusted-up wound-tight. And then he had eaten and fingered me to an epic orgasm, and immediately after that he railed up into me from below, taking me to a second epic orgasm as his finger threatened to enter the one thing I had held in reserve. He effortlessly bounced me in my suspension like a toy puppet on strings, boobs gyrating wildly as I rode his thrusting appendage without a care in the world, single mindedly focused on my next big O only. I was nothing but a toy for him to use, it was a delicious vacation-like feeling; but my kneeling and bound boyfriend had watched it all too, saw me at my very worst… at least so far…

This new day I'm both trying, and perhaps failing to add some normalcy to this abnormal relationship we three share, despite the fact that he's bound and kneeling before me by presumably another's hand; nothing "normal' about that for like ninety-nine percent plus of the population, or so my mind suspects. He at least looks and smells freshly showered, his hair is even still wet, and he's also bound in place, so a lot of nearly silent cooperation between both guys had to have happened while I slept in. No fights or arguments obviously, just some kind of an understanding, one that I'd like to also understand myself as I'm struggling here a bit to find the mental box to put this experience inside.

Was this good for "everybody" or just myself?

What my guy just watched was very close to what the fictional boys from Crestmont would just love to do to me, in my kinky fantasy world anyway. That has to be profound for him, he watched that, he actually saw Ken be sexually rough with me, manhandle me far in excess to what he had witnessed on our camping trip, and he also had to see how good that was for me too. I want to know what that was like for him to watch and hear that, but I way don't want to ask him, I'm afraid to broach the subject for fear of the answers I'll get… or the questions I'll provoke…

Best to have worked all this out in my mind before offering myself as Ken's human birthday gift in the first place; but guilt, lust, and desire perhaps temporarily blinded me to the fact that Saturday morning would come no matter how our Friday night gift turned out. Being freshly fired from my job I think made me feel like I needed the approval of being physically wanted, but I maybe realized this a bit later on. I also wouldn't be the only human in recorded history to focus on the technical challenge; as in CAN I do this thing, not SHOULD I do this thing? Ken had a need that I could uniquely provide though - one I had partially created - maybe at the time it was no more complicated than that. The only thing I know for sure was that I had no truly dark and evil thoughts about any of this, it was supposed to be all fun and games, consensual fun and games though.

Anyway, if I can't tell anybody else about what we three do together, he can't either, so this is not only my secret, but really his too, maybe even a secret shame if somebody like one of our other friends should ever find out, let alone one of the involved adults. The one person he could possibly talk about this with is immersed and corrupted by the adventure himself, but I suspect that they had talked about it anyway and come to some kind of verbal agreement, although the details of that conversation were and are unknown to me. I know a few of our friends suspect "something" already, but likely not this, and to verbally confirm that would be just too much, better to leave it unsaid, backseat drunken ramblings aside. Ken's aunt and uncle have now been left with the carefully crafted misconception that I, from their biased point of view, have finally traded up; not that we have a three way anything going on between us. In their minds one is now in the picture, and the other adroitly removed from it, apparently with little to no conflict. We're even still all friends; who wouldn't want that with the history that we share?

Anyway, walking still closer - and then playfully peeking behind him - I can see that he's cuffed wrist and ankle with a short length of chain from Ken's found bag between both, so quite helpless and secure. It doesn't necessarily look all that comfortable either, but his wrists and ankles haven't turned blue yet either, just a light shade of pink, telling me he's been in position like this for a bit. The cuffs aren't as tight as they could be, but I doubt that they're slipping off either; as I know first hand that one has very little strength with their arms pinned behind their back like this. I'm a bit envious of both the position and the semi-private display, I'd actually like to try that one myself again. The thing that Ken and I had already done in his tent with rope kind of went in this same general wrists to ankles kneeling direction, so not one hundred percent fresh and new, but familiar enough for Ken to know it's effective immobilization. Back then in the tent Ken had also given me a kind of crash course on properly giving a well hung man oral - maybe even while venting some deeply held "Cathy resentment." His tutelage eventually had me deep throating him pretty much all the way - while making some rather amusing noises - but I also knew just by looking at my guy's face that Ken hadn't just given the same "class" to my guy, taken the same liberties. I resigned myself to the fact that such guy on guy interactions just weren't going to happen between both guys; so it was best to stop asking.

It turned out for the best this way anyway, but my guy had a bit of hypocrisy here, because he had made it pretty clear once that both he and pretty much every guy he ever knew thought the concept of two girls going at it with each other was seriously hot and sexy; "instant woody material" he had crudely called it back in the day. Ken also nodded ever so slightly when my guy had said that though, but it was maybe something so subtle that he didn't realize that he had done so. Guys can be a bit crude when speaking to other guys, and sometimes these things slipped out as the guys sometimes saw me as another guy-type friend when we were out palling around doing non-sexual things, which was more often than one would think, especially early on.

One of the XXX movies we had all seen together, as a kind of "nothing to do" rainy day dare, had both a somewhat lame bondage scene - rope falling off and all - but also a fairly hot girl on girl scene, and as proof of what my guy had later claimed - the subject brought up on the ride back home - both guys shamelessly confirmed that girls doing girls was nothing but hot, something that every guy ever would just love to watch. I thought they'd like to do more than just watch, as every confident teen guy ever would no doubt like to think he was enough for two girls at once, but saying that out loud would bring up a whole line of conversation that we just didn't have. We did crazy wild sexual things together sometimes, but we didn't talk all that much about them, we just kind of fell into the experience organically, with rare exceptions like Ken's planned birthday gift. Later on things got a bit less spontaneous, but that's a different story.

I had sat right between both guys in that way less than crowded dark old movie theater, and I playfully and discretely rubbed on both guys' with a single finger during those scenes. They had of course returned the favor on and off, stroking my thighs, it was actually a pretty hot little scene for us three as well, and maybe anybody spying on us too. I even kissed one guy, and then the other to say thank you, right in their seats, oh what a show that was! I was impossibly turned on and aroused by what I had watched, this maybe as close as we ever got to an actual threesome between us. In my mind, even back then, I wanted to maybe try two guys at once - to be "forced" into it though - just not with these two guys, as I knew how that would eventually turn out. Another girl, another girl and her guy like in that movie… maybe that would be hot too, but it would have to be an extraordinary set of circumstances to actually make that happen, and both of my guys would have to be good with that too; I couldn't "cheat" on either one, except of course with the other. I had a kind of open-ended vague hall pass for Ken, but not everybody in town, although I had taken some liberties with that hall pass as of late, maybe still in keeping with the spirit of the offer my guy had once made though, or so my conflicted conscience argued…

Anyway, my guy is also kneeling on the rubber entry mat in his corner with his knees as wide apart as his ankles will allow; the front door "welcome" mat amusingly enough. His hanging flaccid guy parts really look no worse for the wear; just some raw red marks at the base from the all night cuffs. I expect that's a bit tender like that, and this is maybe a ready made excuse to keep him naked for the whole weekend; to avoid the chafing of his tight tighty-whities, those being his little boy-like underpants that I now loathe. Ken was a man, and in my mind men wore boxers. There was more to my guy's choice in underwear obviously, like a shared family washing machine, but such was my bias anyway, unfair as that was.

Anyway, his little man boobs are once again prominently thrust out as well, so overall he's not exactly erect and presenting in a manly way. I saw a slightly more emasculated version of this look the night before in the mirror's reflection, and I'm seeing something similar this morning, but there is no way on earth that I want to comment on what I both see and perceive. "Leave it be" I tell myself, nothing good can possibly come from pointing out the obvious. I'm kind of wishing I hadn't seen him modeling the dress my sister and I made now either, again some things you just can't unsee…

He's been easily and silently subdued; apparently by Ken's own hands, but why exactly, and why like this? I ask myself.

…It's dark and playfully evil of me, but I wonder how much more secure and uncomfortable his restraint would be if my cuffs were once again locked on his hanging guy package, with the other end attached to the short chain on his cuffs? Bound like that he'd be even more helpless, pathetically so, and his guy package would once again be tucked out of the way too, enhancing the feminine masquerade for me. This way every twitch and adjustment in his stance, however small that could actually be, would be amplified and transmitted directly to his guy parts, tugging on them and suggesting immediate consequences. It would hurt and cramp when he didn't move, it would hurt and tug on his guy parts when he did; simply torture for him either way.

In a roundabout way, his horny guy parts brought him to last night's show, and it's the ultimate irony for me that his guy parts kept him in attendance. He could have said no to my gift idea early on, maybe, but he went along because he obviously gets something out of this "arrangement" that we have, maybe out of lending nice and cherished things to Ken, but also watching Ken do something with them that he can't; or is that won't?. So here he is, kneeling and bound before me by Ken's own hands; he's helpless, we could do anything we liked either to him, or with him. He's freely and lovingly given this gift to both Ken and I - no apparent resistance at all - and our only choice is to take it and use it with gusto. For either of us to falter and show signs of weakness or indecision at this late hour would call into question this entire gift, and we just can't do that. Ken and I have a duty here, to each other, but also to him. "When somebody gives you something nice to use; say thank you and use the hell out of it, show them how much you love your gift."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" I ask dramatically, like I had just caught a toddler I was babysitting with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, or perhaps a pet dog that just had an accident on the floor. My words and tone set the mood between us, which is playful again. I was feeling just a bit evil and guilty a moment earlier, and I far prefer this. He smiles at me while looking up into my eyes, as if asking "do you still love me, even after all this?" It's the question I should obviously be asking him instead, but his attitude says so much here. He's said it verbally before, somewhat regularly actually; "you could do better, you know that right?" or some version of that. It's his mode, he treats me like something special and precious, but not in a greedy "she's all mine" way either.

It's almost like he has something that he feels unworthy of, and as such he feels obligated to share it, meaning of course me. The no means no conditions on our first car date kind of exemplify this attitude, my desires trump his own, pretty much no matter what. It doesn't matter that he's bigger and stronger than I am, I can easily control him with my words alone, or even just a stern look; what a power to have over anybody. It's almost like a hundred pound jockey riding a thousand pound racing mount; size doesn't matter, but attitude, training, and position does. One is riding the other, one is dominant and controlling the other, getting it - or he - to do things that it never thought it could. That should have been my first clue as to how submissive he could be around me, the power he was freely giving to me, but it took a while and one extraordinary camping trip to really realize this, to see it for what it really was. At that point I was still learning the depth of this gift that I was given, and would continue to do so for a few years…

"I made a mess on Ken's floor," he tells me sheepishly. He's not proud of this though, he's confessing his transgressions; and implied in there someplace is that he's confessing to his superior, to one in authority above him. He maybe feels better telling me this, but it's almost as if I'll think less of him for doing so. Does he expect both judgment and punishment? I wonder.

"Did you now? Is this your punishment then?" I playfully prod while waving my hand towards his bound body, the implications obvious as I have a pretty good idea what kind of mess he's talking about. My guy is so in the moment here, the gifting of himself to Ken as well like this, even post orgasm, putting Ken in such obvious authority over himself. It feels like this should be sexual, like Ken SHOULD have gotten his own special oral birthday gift from my bound and kneeling guy, but it just isn't. Domination and rough handling turns me on - when it's the right guy doing it - but for him it apparently just makes him submit further and spontaneously squirt off all over the place, pretty much ensuring my "once and done" guy isn't having any real sex with anybody. And on top of all that, popping off like this can't feel all that good and satisfying, so maybe it's like cumming without an orgasm, YUCK! I'm not a hunter obviously, but a hunting analogy comes to mind, it's got to be like unloading and losing the cartridge to your single shot hunting rifle in the snow, without ever squeezing the trigger, nor seeing a buck.

"I couldn't help myself" he almost whines, and I hear the disappointment in his voice; this isn't how he envisioned last night going either. "Do you have any idea how hot that was just watching all that last night?" I could live without his whining, but the emotional power of the experience shines through anyway. He's not angry, or even hurt, he's almost mystified by his own sexual response, at popping off while watching Ken have his rough way with me. It's like a boys-from-Crestmont kind of thing, and he watched it live in the mirror's reflection, almost like a custom written porn production in an XXX movie house; is it any wonder why he popped off?

"It was pretty frickin’ hot for me too," I confess. "Were we too rough though, with you I mean?" I then ask. My conscience is bothering me a bit this morning, but I truthfully meant nothing sinister, it was all in lusty fun, but I also know that once he pops off his "fun time" is done, so some part of last night maybe wasn't one hundred percent good for him either.

He goes on to tell me that it's not that - meaning too rough, and I believe him - but he's being a bit evasive with both the tone I hear and the specific words he uses, and I only hear this because I know him so well, and because Ken is out wandering around the pond so my guy and I can have this candid and private chat. It's a rather magnanimous gift that Ken has given here, but he should be feeling pretty good about himself from the night before. I was maybe a bit worried and insecure when he wasn't in bed with me first thing in the morning, but with this bound gift waiting for me to wake up to, I now realize that all is as well as it can be this morning between Ken and I.

My subdued and dominated guy will obviously go well out of his way not to spoil Ken's birthday too - out of love, not intimidation - most especially this one bearing in mind his aunt's condition and all that, and truthfully his submission isn't really a hardship either. He actually drifts into submission rather naturally, but how far is yet to be seen, although I was learning new things all the time here too.

How many people could either of us gift ourselves to, like this, without horrific consequences? The list is obviously a short one. The boys from Crestmont or the leather-clad Harley biker men are obviously dark fantasy characters, but real bad things actually happen in the real world all the time, so some measure of self preservation is wise. I might have been Ken's birthday gift, but Ken was a rather unique gift for the both of us as well - as was my guy - our relationship therefore a bit more give and take than it might seem on the surface. Ken isn't the bad guy here, the villain, he's just a young man figuring things out like we were, he just happens to be the top dog of us three…

I "know" there is something he's not telling me though, either to protect Ken, or even Ken and myself, I erroneously conclude. How do you get angry at somebody for something like this though, for being so selfless? Time to switch gears here, come back to this later in a slightly different way; it's not like he's going anywhere, either physically, or any other way.

"Remember what you told me to make you do once?" I ask, just to let him know who's in charge here; to also remind him how this all started for the three of us. If he gets off on submission, this is after all extremely submissive, to both Ken and myself too.

He actually licks his lips before he answers me and tells me that he does, he's nearly salivating for my messy half-destroyed box, my cheating, naughty, hanging box, with some of Ken's more energetic little swimmers likely still doing laps deep inside of me… poor little things are about to become my future husband's first breakfast. This isn't the middle of the night in a dark campground, where he possibly can't clearly see the wrecked condition that Ken has left me in, but full, sun shining through the windows, mid morning. I don't strip off for him or anything like that because I don't want him to see all the love bites that Ken has left behind. It's strange really, the lasting love bites bother me to share, but my abused womanhood I'm fine with; it's still another contradiction for a young woman with a boatload of them.

I only lift the tails of my borrowed shirt and he reaches for me enthusiastically, seeing my bald box up close and personal for the first time ever. It's been roughly used by Ken and it shows, but this isn't as bad as the first time he and I did it, back then I half thought he had ruined me for life, like he had turned me inside out down there. I pull back as if teasing a dog with a treat, and I think; why do I keep seeing this young man like a pet, like a dog? A loved dog though, a faithful, "I can't imagine life without you" pet. I could perhaps blame my little sister for first seeing him like this, but to be fair I had him briefly leashed up once already too.

This isn't the least bit hot and fresh like on the camping trip though, hours and hours have gone by, and I truthfully expect no more than a kiss down there. He instead soothes my hanging folds with the one tool he has - worshiping my naughty girl parts - and then he gets a bit deeper as I place my hands on his head gently for stability, bumping my unattached cuffs together with a clank of D rings and reminding me of who placed them. Eventually I can tell this isn't all that great for him, even though it feels rather magnificent to me. When I realize this I pull back, I don't ever want him doing something he finds revolting, this the first skin on skin touch we've shared in over a day, and to me more symbolic than anything, especially since it was on my bald and Ken-abused box. He reaches out for me with his face when I pull away though, so I relent and indulge him further, eventually swinging a leg over his shoulder to help him, unintentionally kicking him lightly in the spine with my bare heel. He eventually works over my little button and gives me a very nice little standing o to start my day with, after consuming everything he could still lingering inside of me. It's revolting but magnificent, all at the same time, although I don't know what "box" to put this experience in either. Service at any cost perhaps?

"You're the best friend a friend could ever hope for…" I tell him while coming down in mellow sated fashion, then sinking low enough on my knees to give him a friendly thank you peck-kiss. I intend this to mean the best friend Ken could ever have - other than perhaps me - but those words could also be cruelly friend-zoning him too; more unintentional mixed messages from my teenaged lips with the second hand taste of Ken actually on them…

He gets his friendly kiss, but then I add a rather vulgar "…cock breath!" in his ear, trying to recover from my ambiguous words a second earlier. We both laugh at the raunchy moniker, this isn't demeaning so much as playful though, but his tone is still slightly off here too. Maybe not actually friend-zoned by me obviously, but something is different here this morning, maybe with him, maybe even with me.

"Something you want to share before I get into the shower?" I ask sweetly, letting him know whatever he's hiding isn't a secret from me at all. I've also suggested with my words that no is an answer that I'll also accept. With the secrets that I have, how could I possibly push this any further? What if he were to ask me the identical question?

"Not right now, except that the keys to my cuffs are in the leather bag on top of the fridge."

His "Not right now" confirms there is actually something, but that this maybe isn't the time either. He says so much, even when he doesn't, one just has to care enough to listen.

"Good, I'll need those for myself; anything else?" I ask dismissively, all as I get a look from him. If he doesn't want to talk I'll honor that, but it's not going to ruin my mood if I can help it. My mind is obviously going in one direction, and his another, but he maybe doesn't realize this just yet. If he wants to tell me what's on his mind I'll still listen, but if not I have things to do, and both getting those cuffs off and a shower is at the top of my list. I've just used him for a cleanup tool again, and for a nice little good morning orgasm too, so not needing to "use" him further I'm on to my next thing; it's a hell of a message to deliver after seeing all he had like eight hours earlier. You'd think he'd be angry or hurt, but I think this experience only made him want me even more.

"If you let me go I'll turn the porch lights on; Ken wanted us to do that when we were done talking."

Oh, that's rather direct, I snarkily think to myself… "Tell me what I should do, oh chained and humbled one!" Sometimes my immediate post orgasm mood is quite gracious, but other times it's just a bit salty; this obviously one of the latter…

"Did he now? I think maybe I'll turn them on for you instead, after I get these cuffs off of myself. You stay right there and tell him he can knock and come in and visit me in the shower, maybe do my back for me; if he wants to?"

What a look I got with that one! Keep your secrets, I'll keep mine!

He had told me what he wanted, and I told him how it would go instead; using one boyfriend as little more than a human notepad for the other, to deliver a sexy "just for Ken" offer even. If he deep down wanted "in charge" he was going to get it, if he got off on seeing his best friend use me like a tool - literally squirting off on the floor from watching alone - he was going to get that too; at least until he offered some serious resistance. I'm trying to get my head wrapped around how this is for him, maybe trying to understand what elements specifically "do it" for him. There's something here he doesn't like obviously, but not enough yet to speak up, so he'll passively accept until he no longer can, and then we can have a real conversation, perhaps establish some ground rules going forward…

The leaders set the rules though, and the followers follow, I should have realized, but I had a bit to learn here too…

I got no visitors in the shower, but that was fine by me anyway, as showering was a rather personal thing for me back then, and the offer was more to tweak my guy than a desire for Ken's actual company in the shower. In high school after gym class was the obvious exception - something I'm thankfully done with - but that was a three minute hurry up shower, where it wasn't "cool" to be seen checking out any of the girls showering next to you in the gang showers. That maybe didn't stop the other girls from side-eye noticing my "melons" as they called them, but envious under-endowed teenagers can be quite cruel too. I could hide them most places by careful clothing selections and tight minimizer bras, just not in the gang showers as I lifted each one to wash under them out of necessity. Anyway, I exited Ken's bathroom wearing short shorts and a comfortable full length shirt to hide Ken's love bites, both on my stomach and elsewhere. Ken could be very territorially oral at times, and last night was one of those.

Ken and I discussed our plans for the morning while standing right in front of my kneeling guy, in this way also telling him how it will go, but not exactly asking for his input either. It reminds me again of a pet dog, and the dog's owners discussing what they were doing for the day as the dog listened. My makeup was all over my pillowcase - Ken at one point having me up on my knees with my arms pinned behind my back and my face stuffed in my pillow to mute my squealing - not to mention that our bedding smells both of sex and sweaty exerting bodies, so laundry someplace is necessary, but so is breakfast as I'm starving. I didn't eat much the day before while burning like a million calories entertaining Ken, and I'm getting what my guy affectionately calls "hangry." Ken and my guy are hungry too, but my guy isn't invited, and Ken and I need to maybe have a private talk ourselves; If for nothing else but to get our stories straight. It's only fair to give Ken the privacy to say no if he wants to, as I have something wild in mind that I want to present to him first; it's his birthday weekend and his cabin, and it's a lot to potentially ask too. We'll bring something back for my guy either way as there is nothing "breakfast-like" to cook in the cabin, something I forgot to bring with me, but to be fair I was rather focused on both the long solo drive, and my Barbie gift to Ken. This ironically enough will be a kind of "doggie bag" for him, but more on that in a bit.

We tenderly get my guy laying down on his side, with a blanket and a couch pillow under his head, the contrast to his rough manhandled treatment from the night before stark. Ken's sated, and so am I now, so as far as I'm concerned it's a new day, and a new attitude too. We collectively decide to give him like two feet of slack in the chains binding his wrist cuffs to his ankle cuffs; it's still technically a hogtie, but hopefully a loose enough one that he can do for a few hours if necessary. He didn't complain about the hog tie though, so we don't know if he wants this or not. We don't know exactly how long we'll be gone for though, but I also don't want to give him the open opportunity to self-entertain to exhaustion while aimlessly wandering all over the place either. We perhaps could have simply kept him naked and used him like a maid with an unfinishable list of mindless chores to accomplish I suppose, but the place was rather tidy anyway from my earlier puttering about, and truthfully that just didn't occur to us back in the day anyway. It may seem like another missed opportunity, but we've exponentially grown into this kink that we still share, and this was pretty early on in that adventure. These days I have a maid when we're both in the mood to play, it's a fun game, and he presents well enough with some effort put in on the front end to make it quasi-plausible.

Anyway, I establish that my guy doesn't want a drink of water or anything before we go - more for my conscience than his thirst - Ken turning off the main breaker for the cabin at the same time to eliminate the risk of fire. He thinks ahead like this with most things, but every now and then… Anyway, I slip on some socks and my old comfortable sneakers, getting ready to leave my hogtied guy behind to wash our stinky "smells like sex" laundry, but Ken interrupts me before I finish; "those heels of yours would look seriously hot and sexy with those little shorts" he tells me…

There is just so much to unpackage here, so much said with just those few words, and I catch my guy's face as he watches mine. Has Ken ever said that I look hot and sexy in front of my guy before? My boyfriend and I don't do any kind of PDA in front of him at all out of sensitivity, but Ken literally "does me" in front of my guy; so why should this even be a thing? My guy bought those heels though, and Ken is going to get to have me in them again, by his request, that really wasn't a request at all. Then of course there is the suggestion that I need something extra, some extra accessory to be seen out with Ken. All of this goes racing through my "hangry" mind in like a second…

…And then I take a breath and realize that I'm hangry and bitchy - just a jumble of passionate emotions despite being sated - and Ken saying that I look sexy and hot is a compliment that most girls would appreciate under the circumstances. So, with nothing more than a look from me I recover my proper more gracious "birthday present" attitude, and of course my heels from the two different rooms that they landed in and slip them on instead, and judging by both guys' expressions as I walk towards the door, Ken was right, the heels look good on me. My bound guy is reduced to looking up at me - in more than one way - as his head is on a pillow, on the floor. I feel not only taller, but a little like a fashion model, and now I have to walk a bit more cautiously too - "wait for me-sexy" I think of it in my mind - making Ken now handle the laundry, which he doesn't seem to mind. This is a very husband and wife-like thing to do on a Saturday morning, that little fact not lost on me either, nor likely my left "waiting at home" boyfriend. He'll be left waiting at home with nothing but his thoughts and a closed door to stare at; and not even a proper physical outlet to drain his kink should he wish to. And if he did somehow manage to pop himself off again, that mess too would be super obvious and embarrassing…

Ken closed the cabin door behind us rather firmly with his toe, not quite a slam, but there was a finality to the action; he didn't look back, but he didn't lock it either as his hands were full… I move my guy's clothes from the cab to the back of the truck and stuff them in with our own stinky laundry, and I once again look at his tighty-whities critically, oh how I loathe those things! We drive off and I catch myself looking down at my sexy heels, and it occurs that they're kind of like Ken in a way, sexy and fun, and they do look good on me too, but maybe not one hundred percent practical for every day of the week. My old sneakers in comparison were comfortable, but left behind on the floor in the cabin, just like my boyfriend was left behind; it was profound to see things like this. Ken was the sexy and fun heels that rocked my world last night, and he/they now taking me to town, and my guy the comfortable, broken in, left-behind sneakers, but if I had to choose only one for the rest of my life…

The laundromat is a few doors down from the little diner that we got breakfast in together, we ate and talked as our clothes and bedding went through the cycles; the nice lady at the laundromat giving us a bit of a look seeing us and smelling our laundry. It was almost a look of "I know what you two were doing last night," or so my guilty conscience suggests. This was a nice little town, just a few stores on main street and very friendly people, but also a bit of a ride from the cabin too. We obviously talk at length over breakfast and I hope nobody is listening. We both quietly establish that my guy didn't really like the cuffs on his guy parts, but Ken doesn't bring up the contradiction here, that my guy popped off all over the place while wearing them and watching us do our thing together. This to me is important, because Ken could have easily shared that secret at no cost to himself at all, delivering any of several messages to me by doing so. That means I can trust Ken for what I have in mind, it's just the basic outline of an idea though; I just want to set the proverbial table, I want somebody else to cook the actual meal…

I'm drinking coffee, my belly is full, I've even been recently and properly entertained; although not to exhaustion and actual lingering soreness like on our camping trip together. Men are coming and going, grabbing their morning coffee and the local newspaper. These are adult men, some of which are easily the age of Ken's powerfully built uncle. They say hello to both of us or nod in a very friendly way, nothing outwardly uncomfortable, but my heels and little shorts - even though I'm seated - are catching their eyes, as is the "you're not from around here" look. Ken is here though, so while I maybe feel a bit overexposed, I'm also safe enough, but all alone it might be a bit different, or maybe not for all I know; at least they're not talking to my boobs like some of them do. Ken's presence offers physical security even though it's not really necessary in this setting; it's comforting when a man does that though, kind of caveman-like. Anyway, he offers to transfer the laundry to the dryer as I wait in the little shop with my coffee; which suits me fine as I don't want to make eye contact again with the suspicious lady there. We also do it like this so they don't think we're skipping on the bill for our breakfast or anything, and this gives me alone time to ponder how I want to approach Ken with my crazy offer…

"…Think the guys you work with would like my Barbie costume?" I ask him deadpan, when he comes back in to join me once again.

"Who wouldn't?" he asks rhetorically after a brief "what the hell? look, probably noticing the looks that I was getting in this little place with him. I'm kind of glowing a bit this morning, and Ken for his part looks rather full of himself too, and possibly proud to be in my company - despite the heel thing - telling others that maybe those two looks are related. This is impossibly good for my ego, as will this thing likely be that I have in mind, if the various elements can be put in place. After that it's up to fate and mood, and a million other variables…

"Want to invite them up for a belated birthday party to show me off?" I ask.

I've put Ken in a terrible trap, although maybe not intentionally so. Say yes and who knows what happens with how horned-up-irrational that Barbie costume makes me - it's like I turn into somebody else - say no and it looks like he's not proud enough to show me off to his work buddies. It's a potential lose-lose for him, but with what I've shared of my fantasies with him he maybe wants to find some way to do something wild for me in quid pro quo fashion, even if it's not quite the whole fantasy abduction experience in total. That's a lot to work out in the flesh with anybody though, even with a lot of planning, and I'm not even sure I really want that either. But at the same time I've given Ken a seriously wild experience - two really - and he maybe wants to give me something that "one-ups" that in return, and on top of all that Ken has a hard time saying no to me; he's truthfully a rather wonderful and giving young man himself.

Ken goes on to tell me that he doesn't want the whole crew up here at once with me, and I also think that might be a bit much, and a bit impossible to organize at the last minute too. I told him I was thinking of one or two of his buddies only, kind of like a small party, a select group; a little laughter, music, and maybe dancing between friends, a little wine and pizza maybe to lubricate the social experience. In my horned up needy mind it could be just some flirting and dancing with some guys that I don't know, anonymously acting like the character that would wear a dress and heels like I already wore for Ken.

In my mind the worst case scenario would be that they eventually went home with almost nothing to remember the evening with, and then of course Ken would get to reap what they had sown; a second birthday gift for the very deserving birthday boy, with me horned up enough for pretty much anything he could dream up. In that scenario Ken would look like the stud muffin rock star that he was with his work buddies, a "look what I have to play with guys" kind of a thing, also very good for his own ego too.

Now if things went along a bit closer to one of my fantasies - once the night got rolling along - that could maybe be good too; I didn't know these guys, they didn't know me, and the only problem then becomes what to do with my guy. He'll need to be made to go away for any of this to actually happen - for it to be fun for me - as seeing him hanging around watching me interact with any guys that come up here won't be very party-like. He's not possessive at all with Ken - it's almost impossible to fathom when you sit down and think about it - but I know that "permissiveness" doesn't extend to everybody. And tying him up in the corner and forcing him to watch, or something equally humiliating, would deeply involve these guys in "our" fun and kink, and maybe invite them to take further advantage of him, or worse yet ridicule him; neither obvious to my liking. This was supposed to be vicarious fun for him too, maybe not a kind of fun that I one hundred percent understood at that point in my life, but certainly not evil or mean spirited; again, you had to be there to feel the vibe with all this.

In my mind the high probability at this point is that Ken's work buddies may accept the invite, and we hang out a bit and possibly I'll flirt with them if they're cute and receptive enough. Not my fantasy obviously, but maybe something to build off of for another time with them, or even others, something to twist both Ken and I up for later at a bare minimum, my watching future husband too even. There were obviously a million things that could go wrong, well short of me even flirting with Ken's workmates, let alone anything further. At this point this is still setting the conditions in place - or trying - to see what happens, not a planned "anything else."

"If I tell the guys that you're my "new" girlfriend, and that you just delivered yourself in a box to me as a "do anything you'd like to with me" kind of birthday gift, up here at the cabin, all alone, that just won't pass the smell test, they'll never believe it."

"Yeah, who would do such a trusting thing?" I ask with obvious humor. The one that loved the both of us so much that he was presently chained on the floor and waiting for our return like an obedient slave; that was his actual physical reward for being so very generous! Ken and I got breakfast, Ken and I also got to "do it" for half the night last night - a small portion of that while hanging from the cabin's main support beam like a side of beef - and my guy's reward was to listen and watch that, all to get himself so worked up that he popped himself off all over the place without touching anything… or so he claimed. It was seemingly very one sided, and anything done with Ken's buddies today, or even later on tonight, any kind of party at all, that would be very very one sided as well.

Just like breakfast my guy wouldn't be invited to this either, he couldn't be for obvious reasons, and maybe keeping him bare ass naked for the whole weekend was the excuse we needed. "'Sorry, it's Ken's birthday, and until Sunday night you don't have any clothes to wear, unless you want to hang out with Ken's manly work buddies in just your skin?'" I think amusingly in my mind. Would he do that, would he do that if I made him do it?

"I know these guys," Ken tells me, "it would sound far more plausible for my good friend to have given me a slightly different kind of gift, like you were someone hired on by him to play this part for me up here. Maybe not his girlfriend, but most certainly not mine either, perhaps more of an independent operator, a stranger, hired on to put on a show… providing a service maybe."

"A paid-for boxed-up full-sized talking Barbie sex doll; in other words a costumed escort?" I ask, marveling at the mental and verbal gymnastics Ken was using not to call me one of several bad names. No money had actually changed hands, so technically I wasn't a paid-for anything, but in all reality it's not something that crossed my mind to begin with. The guys pay when we're out together though, and very recently, ever since I was fired, my guy has even given me some spending money along with the keys to his car, but not in exchange for sex though. Maybe with just the implication that one of our dates might work out like that, but not in exchange though; it's a condition that I couldn't imagine either one of us making… Full disclosure here though, "sold for sex" is one of my all time hottest loss of control fantasies; so still another contradiction.

"It sounds just terrible when you say it like that; doesn't it?" Ken tells me defensively, seeing the results of his words on my face. I want him to be able to say anything to me, without judgment, and I had to remember that he was trying to find a way to do something for me that he didn't one hundred percent want to do either. He'd likely prefer to keep me to himself, but if my own guy had taken that route he'd be alone right now too; or then again maybe not…

"Think about it though, most normal guys aren't willing to share something like you; but if you only want to hang out with the guys and behave yourself we could always tell them you and I are actually a thing, therefore a no-touch thing for them. It could still be fun to have them up if they have the time last minute like this, and I could still show you off this way too, but that's as far as it could possibly go without me "losing face" at work. If you even possibly want to do something else though, maybe even just retain the opportunity for that if you get into it, we have to do it this other way, like you're a paid-for commodity; something bought and paid for, unattached with little regrets."

Ken was offering me either future potentially, this the proverbial Y in the road, and this was really more than I had ever hoped for. It scared me to be honest, this would involve other people, just their being up here with us a wild variable thrown into what was already a complex enough human equation for us three. But, I also had this now or never thing going on in my teenage mind; motive and opportunity, it always comes down to that. I was feeling a bit curious, but Ken or I could also stop this at almost any point, so this was as "safe" as such a thing could possibly be; or so I thought…

"I don't like it," I tell Ken. Implying that I'm here for the money only cheapens me, and potentially opens me to other's purchasing my services too. It's a hot fantasy obviously, a great way to potentially pay for that car that I want - a five speed, five liter mustang by the way, as impractical as such a car could be for anywhere that it snows - but these are also real men, and thinking I'm in it for money doesn't work for me on several levels. I'm not necessarily angry or hurt for Ken to suggest this, but I don't know exactly how I should feel. He's read my face though, and he knows he just did something that I don't like, even if I haven't come out and bit his head off or anything. Ken's logic is a bit faulty too, a brand new girlfriend wouldn't box herself up and deliver herself to his cabin; but somehow we could still be attached, and I was a no-touch sleep-over commodity with his buddies because of that?

"…Could you actually do this? I ask Ken, after taking a breath or two before I say something that I shouldn't. My guy wouldn't "sell" me for anything, for no amount of money, or really anything, but he would lend me out to one who needed me; from many points of view quite foolishly. We have to establish the can and can't of this, before we establish the "will" of doing this though…

"Could you?" he counters, and the tone here is almost like we're playing chicken with each other, waiting for the other to yield. "Maybe," I answer in my mind, but I'd like to learn that myself, push those boundaries to see what happens.

"I'd just have to turn up my jerk game a bit," Ken tells me. "I obviously wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, but I couldn't let it slip that we have a serious relationship either. I have to tell you though, the very safest thing for me is not to do this at all; but 'no risk, no reward' as they say."

"No regrets too?" I ask. I think I want this, but Ken isn't the price I'm willing to pay to have it; my "back at the cabin" guy is a lesser consideration for some reason. He matters, but I maybe take him for granted, like he'll be there no matter what, like Ken is the thing to keep or lose here because it's potentially his work buddies.

"Promise, no regrets" Ken tells me, in a way giving me his own kind of hall pass, although I don't one hundred percent know that I really want to do this. It's hard to explain, but I just want to put the elements in place and "see" if it actually happens, perhaps this the more passive human path to such things though. Did my future husband do this very same thing during our camping trip; with rather risky, but wonderful results? That was new and wonderful for both Ken and I, and maybe even wonderful for my guy too, which was still something I didn't entirely get as a teenager. It sets the precedent in my mind though, crazy-risky can and does lead to wild sexual fun, and new opportunities…

Ken then reminds me that I'll have all the skin in this game, or potentially so, depending on how the night goes; goading me I think to back out, but not specifically telling me no either. "Limits?" he asks next, and my deer in the headlights look is likely my answer. I'm a bit caught up in the "could I actually go through with this?" question, not the actual physical details, because in my dreams and fantasies they're faceless and nameless guys looking opportunistically for rough physical fun; they simply snatch me off the street and do as they will while I'm bound, or even just held down helplessly. I don't dream about the actual fornication though - it's kind of an odd dream like that - the men overpowering me, stripping and conquering me, that's the meat of the dream for me.

So now I've seriously muddied the waters for poor Ken here, instead of telling him exactly what I want or don't want, my silence has put him in the potential position to give me what he thinks I maybe want, via an indifferent third party, or even several detached third party work buddy guys he knows. If bad plans lead to bad results; what do no-rules plans lead to? Anarchy or adventure are the obvious answers.

I eventually tell him I don't really know, but I also tell him that I want to at least put the elements in place and just let nature take its course, I keep coming back to this like a skip scratch in a phonograph record, but such thoughts remove a level of potential guilt from me in case this goes south. This is impossibly honest of me, and I'll take honesty over deception every time… we'll almost every time. Speaking of which, the next problem is what to do with my guy. I really don't want him present and watching any of this nonsense - it just can't naturally happen if he's watching - and I don't want to ask his permission either. I'm an adult woman, and also Ken's birthday gift for the weekend, and if he agrees to do this thing for me, share me with his work buddies in any way at all, that's good enough for me. In my mind Ken is my steady this weekend, and my generous guy is reduced to being the spectator, the watching third party.

"Tell them I'm your friend's girlfriend, that he couldn't make it to the party for some reason and I'm here to keep you company. That's my only condition, and it happens to be somewhat close to the truth too. What do we do with him though?" I ask Ken. My "back at the cabin" guy is obviously not here to speak for himself, but he still matters. I want to maybe do this thing, or at least walk right up to the edge of the proverbial cliff, but maybe not actually jump off. I don't want him to actually be part of this, but I don't like hiding it from him either; there has to be some kind of a balance here. I want to do this independently, as independently as possible with Ken and his friends anyway, I also want to have this experience as safely as I can. It's another balancing act really, but it's my decision too…

Ken goes on to remind me that my guy wasn't invited to breakfast, and he's not invited to this potential party either, it's that simple; no invite, no attendance. Ken then gets up, and he returns with the daily edition of the local paper, and according to that the weather will be cloudy and warm for the rest of the weekend, only a twenty percent chance of rain. We've recently had less than accurate forecasts up here though, so I'm skeptical at best.

Ken tells me what he's thinking, specifically about how he wants to get rid of my guy for the next twenty four hours or so, and I see the evil playful smile he has while speaking; presenting his idea to me. Compared to my cuffs attaching his guy parts to a pole in the middle of the room this is mild though, it's what he'll potentially be missing out on that will be the real deal. I've been gifted to Ken though, and my guy also knows that Ken wouldn't let me get hurt either. Sexy "push the boundaries" fun yes, but nothing life altering. My guy himself opened this Pandora's box for me, so in a way this is really on him; or so my conscience argues…

Ken's ideas are impossibly infectious, something inspired by what we did to my guy once, twice really. It's right up my guy's alley, and together we brainstorm this concept into an actual plan, something along the lines of his second day camping trip ordeal, the one where we dumped him off in the woods so Ken and I could get up to our mischief with a bit more privacy. In both our minds this won't be a hardship for him at all, as he's kind of almost the perfect candidate for this already. He'll know some of what's going on this time though - only part of it as it turned out, seeing and hearing what he could from his limited vantage point without his glasses - so not at all like on our first solo trip up here.

That was Ken's reasoning for keeping my guy in attendance the night before by the way, not my obvious choice, but one can see his "no secrets" intent. In this way my guy saw pretty much "everything" he had missed the first time Ken and I spent the night alone at his cabin, and it was a good concept too. The downside to all that was unintended, and it wouldn't come out until a bit later, but the short story is that Ken and I looked the more natural couple that night, appearing extraordinarily comfortable doing what was apparently a first time thing for my watching guy; that for us obviously wasn't. Simply put, we looked comfortable and practiced doing some very kinky high stress things because we were, not because we were "perfect" for each other.

With our laundry done we ordered a child's portion take home doggie bag breakfast meal for my chained and waiting back at home guy, Ken graciously paying for everything as I had left my pocketbook at the cabin. He also makes a payphone call to one of the guys he works with, both inviting him up to the cabin with directions and giving him the phone number there. He's to call another guy they both work with and extend the invitation to him as well, so this thing actually looks like it might happen after all. My heart is pounding in my chest as I'm both terrified and excited. Now I didn't hear the details of the conversation Ken had with the man, and I most certainly didn't hear the other end of the conversation either, but Ken's few words that I did hear along with his smile tells me that the "invite" was well received. He's getting into this, and I have to believe this will do nothing but make him super popular back at his job on Monday morning, even if it turns into nothing more than a friendly visit at his uncle's rather wonderful remote cabin.

The plan we put together to "disappear" my guy so he can't interrupt whatever is to happen during this ad-hoc party we're cobbling together is a little out there, but it has elements of something he's done before. Ken specifically has this flair for creative ways to have him occupied elsewhere, so Ken and I can get up to our mischief; dumping him off at a cartoon matinee with no other way home obviously comes to mind. It's nothing straight up evil, it's more playful evil, "making" him do something that he almost certainly wants to be made to do anyway. To be clear, Ken and I are co-conspirators here, but my mind is on this very big leap of potentially involving others in our games, and not the details of removing my guy from the action. The high probability at this point is that nothing at all sexual happens, and the guys go home after a fun party, leaving Ken to potentially put out the fire that somebody else had started. Anyway, maybe this was Ken's true motivation, giving me an experience, yes, but one that he would eventually reap the benefits of himself. The logic of that is slightly suspect though, because Ken getting me wound up enough for fooling around with him wasn't ordinarily too much of a challenge.

The temporary trade off with my guy for these kinky experiences seems to be me, and while it might not seem a fair trade to most, my guy is into this kind of thing for whatever reason; it simply turns him on to be humbled, to be "forced" to share me with Ken. He's therefore having a kind of fun with these games we play - maybe getting something I can't yet give him on my own - all while Ken and I have our own fun too; and maybe even included in that is his work buddies that he's invited up to the cabin with us. I don't know these guys, and at this point I therefore don't really know where this will lead - how the puzzle pieces will fit together - but I have to believe that Ken chose wisely. It's putting the elements in place, tossing the proverbial dice, seeing what you roll with nothing but chance on your side. It's crazy from today's point of view, but it's what we did; we were young, horny, and looking for adventure. Ken knew these guys though, so it wasn't exactly like getting snatched off of the side of the road by a van full of nefarious characters, but maybe as close as one could get in the real world and still expect to survive.

My chained guy is looking at the door expectantly when we walk back in together, and I can see something in his face, which I'm pretty sure is total "I missed you guys" submission. It's almost a lonely puppy dog look to me, but also a lot for me to put into a look - but this is my version of the events and from my perspective - and therefore to me it's almost as if my future husband is saying "I'm yours in any capacity that you desire, even a supporting role if that's your wish." So his look to me is suggesting, I think, that he would even agree to give me Ken self-sacrificially - like forever - if I thought that would make me truly happy. As in he'd remove himself from the competition in this way without conflict nor malice, so that both Ken and I could have a happy life together… if of course we were that perfect for each other, which - trust me - we weren't.

Ken was a fun playmate, really good and skilled with his masculinity, but my guy was husband material, like forever after, till death do us part…

Perhaps this is a version of "if you love something, let it go…" but I don't want that though; Ken has many fine attributes, but keeping relationships long term doesn't seem to be one of them, and to be fair my guy was there first. Now of course that could be because Ken hasn't found the right girl yet, one that knows he's deep down a rather wonderful young man, and not somebody one dimensional that's simply good with his guy parts. Anyway, there are reasons for my guy's erroneous conclusion - the one that suggests that Ken and I are the more natural fit - but more on that later, although sufficient to say that he had some time to do some serious thinking while staring at the closed entry door in the dead silent cabin.

"I have some good news and some bad" I tell my guy as Ken hangs right next to me with a smug face, we're both standing and looking down on him and I can see in his face that he steeled himself for the worst. They were foolish words for me to use, but once said they can't easily be taken back either. It's temporary mental torture, as is my looking down on him in my new heels that he specifically bought for me, but also unintended on my part.

"We've decided to get a dog, and you're the dog" I tell him quickly to end the torture. He's relieved, I can see it in his face; this maybe isn't what he thought I might say though. We're back to playing a game here, and I haven't just dumped one boyfriend for another, although that feeling might have been in the air for my guy…

"Now every good dog needs a collar," I tell him, and I grab Ken's bondage bag of goodies and pull out a single row wide cuff that I'm going to use as his collar… While shopping in town for some things we'd need, both for the party and the following day, Ken tried on a big dog's 18 inch long collar right in the hardware store on his own neck - all while I made silly faces at him - and since that one fit him, we felt confident that one of the cuffs he already owned could be repurposed for our new pet's collar. Why buy what you already own? And this one was lockable too, which better fit with our plans for the rest of the weekend; and beyond as it turned out…

Anyway, I put the repurposed cuff on my guy's neck and locked it on with the small padlock myself; it's not very tight at all, but it's not going over his head like this either. My little sister did something similar to him once with a real dog collar - although in that case it was quite snug - so I therefore already know he makes a good collared dog. Ken and I both go on to tell him he can either choose to be a good dog, or a bad dog, and Ken describes his elaborate scheme to use most of the remaining cuffs from his bondage bag to cuff his wrists to each other as well as his thighs, and his bent-knee ankles to his waist, making it extremely impractical for him to stand like a human, or even raise his hands all that far above his shoulders. Or, if he wanted to be a good dog instead he could just remain on his hands and knees on the honor system. It was up to him, but both good dogs and bad dogs only whimpered and barked for what they wanted, as in no human words at all, he was told.

"I'll be a very good dog for the both of you," my guy tells us warily, perhaps expecting the other proverbial shoe to drop shortly. He's been through a lot here himself, but he also had humanly spoken his answer, but one has to make allowances, although it's profound to me that he's apparently and voluntarily now Ken's dog as well. He's easily regressed from my giving boyfriend to our naked and collared pet, and it was hard not to see this as a downward spiral; a lessening of the young man before us. This was supposed to be a game between friends though, but this game had Ken's net worth increasing at the apparent cost to my guy's own net worth, surely an untenable long term condition. He almost certainly knows something is going on later too - that some conclusion was reached while Ken and I were out together - but to be fair he's maybe a bit off balance from all that happened in such a short span of time. I then think, if he thought last night with Ken alone was crazy…

With his word given I set out to remove him from his loose hogtie so he can finally eat his breakfast, all while Ken is setting it up for him. He still has a bit of cock breath from going down on me earlier, but I keep that to myself, thinking that eating almost anything to get that taste out of his mouth has to be an improvement. He had that particular taste in his mouth for hours, all while hogtied and looking at that closed door, awaiting our arrival; it had to be maddening for him. Anyway, not to dwell on any of that Ken has a rather devious surprise for my guy, but he's emboldened in his full jerk mode, and this idea was born from that. To be fair he had asked me and I told him I thought it was funny - remembering the dog collar and leash thing with my little sister - but that's before his look that greeted me when walking through the door though. To be fair to Ken I didn't stop this though, but getting my guy out of the way simply must happen now after that pay phone call; there are no other good options for either Ken, nor I.

…In my husband's twenty plus year old account of this adventure, this is the moment we established a safe word between us, which simply didn't happen. It truthfully would have been wise to do so - and I think that was his point, story-wise - this game of ours pushing boundaries all the time, but being the age we were, with the experiences we brought to the proverbial table, we just didn't know about those. The upside to our ignorance was that we had to read faces and body language better, but the downside was that mistakes would happen when dealing with these kinds of passions. Added to this was a change in tone for this game of ours up here, on Ken's "home turf."

My guy had gone from graciously giving Ken the gift of my time and womanly virtues to being his collared pet, mine too really. I'd seen most of this before on our camping trip, but here and now it was somehow more intense; he simply had to know how this would go this time, and still, here we were! But, if I liked Ken to take charge of me, to physically dominate, was it so out there that my guy liked Ken to do the same for him, without the implied promise of sexual servitude? For me the one went with the other and was as exciting as hell, but perhaps my thinking was hetrosexually male-female biased in this, and not all submission for everybody led to actual sex? You submit to an employer, to legal authority, to your teachers even, and no sex ordinarily happens there, so there maybe is something to this rationale. Not that Ken and I had brainstormed this part all the way through to it's logical conclusion; but you don't have sex with your pet either. Pets are trained to submit, to obey, it's really the perfect model for my guy that we've kind of stumbled onto here, and credit my little sister for first seeing this attribute in his character; or perhaps even for planting these early seeds for us to now harvest.

Our brand new pup walks towards the kitchen stiffly on his hands and knees - and also likely grateful to once again be able to move his appendages in any fashion - but stops abruptly when he sees his doggy-bag small breakfast of one egg, one slice of bacon, and a single piece of toast, all broken up into bite sized pieces and placed atop of a stainless steel dog food bowl full of dry dog food, with a dog water bowl right next to it. He looks up at Ken and silently shakes his head, but all in all this is some very minor resistance to his dog-ification; to be perfectly fair he's been a dog for like less than ten minutes of his entire life. It's me that picks up the newspaper that Ken had purchased though, I'm simply not having any of it, so behind his back I roll it up tight, and I swat his ass hard, several times. Just like with a real pup, the noise is way worse than the sting, but this is still a physical correction, a first for me.

"Bark, whine, and don't you dare have an accident in Ken's house," I warn sternly while waving the rolled up newspaper in his astonished face, to which he's slightly taken aback. I meant any kind of mess, to include any accidental manly emissions, and I think he got that. Anyway, the message I hope is clear; we're one hundred percent back in the game now, and this is the way belligerent naughty dogs get treated, and the second message is that I'll swat your puppy ass even before Ken can. I'm maybe overacting here a bit, but I also selfishly want this night for myself, so I need to nip this attitude thing of his in the bud so my deal with Ken can maybe come to fruition. He's to stay in the game-mode headspace, and embrace being a dog for us, embrace behaving and submitting to us like this.

It's only temporary, and whatever he does he better not screw up what Ken and I have planned for later; my actions hopefully communicate. He's still a hungry pooch though, and dropping the naughty ungrateful dog attitude he gets down low to eat his food with little further complaint; I even see him eat some of the dry food that stuck to his "people" food from the diner, but I don't know if he realizes this, and pointing such out isn't in my best interest.

So many mixed messages that particular day, from all three of us, but I was hungry for something, and my guy was foolishly in the way…

If this was the first true "dog" battle, I'd say Ken and I won handily; and yes, my guy still made a good dog, although crawling around on the hardwood floor on his hands and knees looked quite rough on his knees specifically. Knee pads would be in his future, but we hadn't thought that far ahead that day either.

After that Ken gives our new pooch some upright outside naked human chores to do, namely raking out the dog pen and making sure the dog house is fit for later occupancy. It's not strictly speaking a canine activity, but most certainly self-serving for the soon to be caged pooch. Ken got a look with the occupancy comment - likely not knowing I was the driving force behind the "need" to find someplace to park him out of both sight and mind for the night - but not a human word of complaint from our pooch. I locked his new collar to the cable dog run myself, the hanging lead attached and long enough to allow him to have a pretty good path in the backyard left and right of the cable run, and even partially see inside the windows, but not actually leave the yard. The keys were inside, well out of his reach, so he was our pooch until we decided differently.

…The rolled up newspaper turned out to be an effective "correction" device for our pet, but he was so very good and submissive after that it wasn't really necessary all that often; he truly was a natural pet. Now actual corporal punishments for my guy - strap, hand, paddle, or in a pinch a slipper, or even a cutting board from the kitchen - wasn't something I stumbled across until some time later, like years and years later, which seems a waste, but we truthfully grew into that kind of FLR relationship over time. These days my guy might on occasion do or say something he shouldn't have, and I would either call him out on it, or he would sheepishly confess it to me first, accepting his punishment and apologizing. It's a rather fun dynamic for our relationship, but one that absolutely puts me at the top of the ladder; right where he wants me. He likes to be controlled, and at times I do as well, so I can't find fault in this…

I check on my guy from the bedroom windows a few times as he does his Ken-assigned chores, chained by his neck and nakedly laboring with a rake and shovel. He looks far more like a collared human slave rather than an upright pet, but in either event the kink factor is off the charts wild. It's a good distraction for me though, because I'm nervous as hell with this thing that's rolling along; the guys, Ken's work buddies, ARE coming, they're already enroute, and they expect "something" at least. Maybe a party, maybe some music and dancing, maybe something else, but to be sure it will be me as the lone female and these other guys partying with me dressed to get attention. Ken has told me a little about the two guys he's invited, that they're a few years older than we are, and that they're nice guys, with girlfriends, he didn't say. But these guys also run crews, so guys that are used to getting what they want, maybe with a few years more experience in matters of the flesh than we three have as well. I'm possibly ever so slightly intimidated, but this plays into my fantasy nicely, it's just left to be seen how these guys play into that, or even if they do at all.

Did Ken invite guys with girlfriends so that they wouldn't want to become attached to me after whatever happened, happened?

To his credit Ken sees that I'm a nervous wreck, and he hugs up on me from behind as I see our outdoor slave finishing up with his chores from the master bedroom windows, almost certainly placing the two blankets he was given inside the big doghouse. He'll have to scrunch down to get in, and curl up once inside, but even if it should rain he'll be just as safe and secure as a cherished high-dollar hunting dog. We probably wouldn't do this to him in cold or rainy weather anyway, but it's nice and warm out now.

Ken is being one hundred percent comforting with the hug, it's not a sexual hug/grope session - quite loving actually - but the fact that my naked and flaccid guy is outside chained by his neck and working towards the goal of him being locked out of the cabin for the night strikes me; I know what could potentially happen in just a few hours, but he doesn't yet. I'm not in the mood for "it" with Ken at that moment, as crazy as that sounds; that vibe isn't there as he's likely a bit nervous too. But if Ken and I were, Ken could physically "have me" standing at the windows, while my chained guy worked, or even watched; helplessly watching from the outside with no way to stop the action. If that isn't full submission, to the both of us, I don't know what is. Truth be told, he'd probably get off on such a thing, because he had already, but time will tell once the guys arrive, although adding others into this mix is obviously quite risky. I don't think my guy will freak out of anything, but he might be furious by the time it's all over.

Anyway, the cabin wall phone actually rings, which doesn't happen up here all that often, so much so that the overloud bells startle both of us in the quiet room, my chained guy even hearing them outside. Ken answers it, and listening to one side of his conversation, and seeing Ken silently hold up three fingers, I'm led to believe the guest list has grown. Ken looks at me, as if saying "are you still good with this, with three instead of two?" I silently nod my answer, half-thinking that anything involving three other men, plus Ken to make it an even four, just isn't very likely to happen now. I don't actually know how I feel about that; relieved, or disappointed. Back when we were camping my guy possibly only wanted a threesome, and here this was possibly - although now unlikely - a fivesome; oh the irony!

In any event that phone call tells me that I've got a good hour to transform myself back into Barbie, and in that time we have to finalize what to do with our new pooch, what to share with him, the actual details of that. Locked out of sight inside his nice and clean dog pen where he likely can't see a thing kind of suits me, but here Ken has taken charge and told him instead that some of his work buddies are coming over for a belated birthday party to "see" his awesome Barbie gift, and since he's not invited to this party, and has nothing to wear to it anyway, he's to stay out of sight. He's still naked with his clothes locked in Ken's truck, except of course for his collar, so not getting seen peeking in the windows like a perv probably is in his best interest anyway. Ken could obviously give him his clothes back early, but he hasn't offered, and dogs can't speak so as to ask.

If he really really had a problem with this second birthday party he likely would have spoken up anyway, but since he didn't in my mind it's "game on." He knows my kinky mind even better than Ken does; never has the subject of me going to a party with a whole bunch of unknown men while he stays at home ever been broached though. "No resistance" is instead what I see here though…

Ken's message - I think - is implied, but clear, "right now you're privately our pet dog, however, let these working men accidentally see you and your 'shame' gets to be a far more public kind of thing; not good for me, but really really not good for you." What else specifically Ken told him I don't exactly know, but I also don't know exactly what was said over their private dinner either.

It's not like Ken had to argue with him or physically throw him from the cabin, although being the only one not wearing clothes makes it hard to win any arguments, hard to "man-up" like that I suppose. Ken just as easily could have dragged my guy anywhere by the cable lead attached to his collar and he'd have no choice but to follow, or be strangled. It never came to that though, the appearance of resistance yes, but not actual defiance. On top of that is perhaps the "'secret" of my guy popping off all over the place while watching and or listening to Ken and I go at it; Ken might have suggested this as leverage to move our pooch where he wanted him, our pooch perhaps not sharing with Ken that I already knew this myself. It's obviously a lot to assume on my part, but I'm not just asking these kinds of questions twenty plus years later either.

Again something to "assume" between us three, to include the young man I would one day marry, was that none of us knew how far this thing would actually go. Sexy playful flirting could be just that, and in that case my guy might not get much of a show to watch at all.

With food and fresh water placed inside his freshly cleaned dog pen my guy is locked out on his cable dog run with an actual keyed lock, the rear door to the cabin also closed and deadbolt locked too. In other words he's out for the night whether he likes it or not; and after Ken does all this I feel just a bit more free. Ken has taken charge, temporarily, of our pooch, and I'm grateful beyond words. I briefly think of that old jail tour, and I hope he's turned on excited at the prospect of being locked up and out like this. Locked inside the actual cage-like fence would be even hotter if it was me, it's something that my guy and I apparently share together; the sporadic hunger for submission and control.

I don't want to be actually free of my guy, but sometimes it is nice to know I don't have to be such a good girlfriend myself, responsible like a real adult should be. There's some teenaged mischief hiding inside of me somewhere that's screaming like a lunatic to come out and go crazy, and this feels like a one-time perfect opportunity. If Ken all by himself brings out the worst in me though, what will these other anonymous men in addition to Ken bring out? It's a mystery that I'm hungry to solve…

So I shower and get myself ready with a million self doubts staring back at me in the mirror, I even getting Ken to come in with me and adjust the velcro seams of the altered dress that he tore from my body only the day before; cinching it back together once I'm in it so it looks "normal." With that dress on, just wow; panties, no bra, and those cheap heels, so I'm dressed once again for sex, but not just for Ken this time, depending on how it all shakes out. At this point I don't really know how that will actually go, but dressed as I am I'm offering something by implication. It has to be right though, the vibe and mood just have to be there; odd really if this were to be something approaching my biker fantasy.

I shoo Ken out of the single bathroom to do my hair next, emulating my earlier look, which is a departure from my "quick as you can" ordinary style. I don't like the makeup part next at all, but it's part of the costume, part of this other persona of mine. I duplicate - to the best of my abilities - my sister's china doll look, it's not necessarily that I love this particular look, but that it doesn't look like me; so it maintains a certain level of anonymity for me. It's not exactly an original thought, but wearing this "costume" I think I can do almost anything - like a child in a Halloween mask maybe - possibly behaving like I ordinarily wouldn't for some people that I hopefully won't ever see again. They actually turn out to be great guys, but I'm getting ahead of myself a bit…

So I come out with a few minutes to spare and Ken ties me into my display box, but before he does I get him to cinch up some of the velcro seams a bit, I'm going for the "falling out of her, it almost doesn't fit" tight dress look, and there's also just something about the way this thing hugs up on my teen body; just this side of obscene. I feel almost straight jacket-like bound by this tight dress, like I'll have to take short strides to prevent it ripping at my thighs; it's a nice "tight" bodily feeling, being both restricted and on display like this. My box is once again up against the faux beam, but this time since Ken is tying me in himself he ties my ankles, and over my arms just under my boobs, and then my wrists crossed in front of me last, making me his for-real helpless prisoner. It's hot and sexy, just the mental diversion that I need to once again get into my Barbie persona character. I've been selflessly gifted and lent to Ken, and he potentially might even sublet lend me out himself; if that vibe somehow manifests itself for him as well.

In my mind I've somehow become the captured and bound prisoner of four men up here in a remote cabin, my future husband, the only young man who might "save me" from these men is chained naked like a dog outside, with few options other than to covertly watch what they do, the "perversions" they practice… or become a serving part of the "party" himself. Ken might not be interested, but what if one or more of these guys had interest? Not to judge, but what if my guy could do something wonderful for one of these guys himself, leaving a more manageable three for me to entertain?That would be a form of submission too, wouldn't it?

Ken then invades my crazy fantasy thoughts and reaches in and gives me a tender kiss, telling me to have fun with this, which is also letting me know that he was actually listening when I had shared what got me going a few weeks earlier with him. It might not be exactly what he's personally after, but he's still willing to do this thing for me, or as I prefer to think about it, "set the elements in place and see what happens." It's a bit late I suppose, but I ask specifically what he told his buddies to expect, to which he only smiles. Ken then playfully teases up my left nipple in criss-cross fashion through my tight dress with his right index finger, giving me a serious case of the "pokies" with his tickling touch. What had Ken offered? I was left to wonder, as in, what was the other part of that telephone conversation that I didn't hear?

"You have fun with this too, okay." I eventually told him.

The lid eventually goes on my box and a sheet goes over it when we see headlights in the long driveway, and I'm temporarily alone with both my thoughts and pounding heart. I come to the conclusion that talking Barbie is going to do her level best to stay in character - positive upbeat answers to almost any question - and in this way I can have whatever experience fate provides almost guilt free and vicariously through her; getting this lust driven insanity out of my system once and for all. My future husband has played along with Ken and I like no other ever would, possibly watching at this very moment from outside the rear windows and looking in, and also just as unsure as to what's going to happen next. I just need him to be unconditionally understanding for a bit longer, but chained by his neck and locked out of the cabin he has little short term choice, other than to scream and yell like a lunatic I suppose. Ken for his part needs to be rewarded for this selfless giving act too, no matter how this turns out; as in his fantasy next time, no questions asked. I know that this is somewhat outside of his comfort zone, but first things first…

Anyway, I hear the muted ruckus of these guys greeting Ken at the door; it's the kind of excitement that one gets when just finishing a long car trip and you want nothing but to be out of the car, so as to greet who you drove all that way just to see. I hear their back-slapping loud happy birthday good wishes, but I'm not seeing the faces that go along with these deep, manly, powerful voices. These are men, strangers with powerful voices to go along with what I assume are powerful muscular bodies; working men, physical labor kind of men that Ken can easily fit in with. In contrast there is a naked, collared and leashed slightly less manly looking teen hiding outside someplace, perhaps even covertly watching these rough manly men enter Ken's cabin, for, in his mind - just like mine - who knows what. I'm here, and he's there, and he can't stop this thing now, and he can't run away to hide either; other than maybe inside the relative safety of his dog enclosure. So in a way he's as trapped as I am, although even more exposed at the moment; more skin in the game as it were. If I'm nervous and unsure; what's he feeling? It took courage and trust to allow himself to be put into this position; and I sometimes don't think I give that as much weight as I should. Anyway, I'm dressed for sex in a dress designed to be ripped off, and other men have been invited up here to potentially play, and besides all that my guy knows what kind of dark fantasies I have. I've hardly kept such things a secret from him, and still he wants me, wants to share me too, he's truthfully one in a million, a keeper that I intend to still keep at this point.

I've maybe seen the worst he can possibly be, but he hasn't seen that from me… yet!

"Look what my best friend got me for my birthday" I hear Ken say proudly, and I assume it's he that whisks the sheet from my box; I close my eyes to shield them from the sudden rush of light in my nearly pitch black box.

"It's F-ing awesome," I hear one deep voice opine as I feel eyes studying me, to which the others agree.

"It looks so real," another says, the third asking if it's some kind of sex doll or something, to which all of them laugh, including Ken.

Has Ken already told these guys some version of this story; that his best friend gifted him his own girlfriend for Ken to play with for his twentieth birthday?

"You're half right," Ken offers, and he tells the guys to open the box and see for themselves. I still have my eyes closed, not that this was some well thought out plan on my part, it just kind of happened like that, but I went with it anyway. Ken can kind of tell that there is a limited supply of fresh air in there so he's obviously trying to move the discovery phase of this surprise along. I feel their eyes on the dress wearing sex doll in the box, and I breathe as shallowly as possible so as not to give the surprise away any sooner than necessary. I kind of assume that Ken had told them something at this point, but what exactly is not known.

I feel the suction of fresh air when the lid is pulled off my box, but also the warmth of their close bodies, and it takes all the self control that I have not to suck in a deep lungful of air, or amusingly enough, yawn. I feel a finger lightly circle my pokie, but then the hand pulls away when the hand's owner realizes that this "doll" is 98.6 degrees and not ambient temperature cold to the touch; that my nips have responded in a very human and predictable fashion. I'm either going to burst out laughing, or say something, this charade about to end one way or the other.

I don't know these guys at all, and I've already allowed a very intimate touch by one of them; a sure prelude to the night to come…

"Hi, I'm talking Barbie; do you want to play?" I ask cheerfully as I pop my eyes open and break into a broad smile, being rather pleased with myself for keeping it together for as long as I did. These are strong men and I'm bound before them, but they still jumped back slightly when I first spoke. They also have kind smiling faces, and they obviously like what they see; Ken had chosen most wisely. They have some ink on their bare arms, and while not my particular thing, it is manly and rough looking on them, which is extraordinarily exciting to a certain part of my "bad-boy" desiring brain, it's almost Harley biker-like to me. They are maybe mid twenties if I had to guess, so they have a few years on the three of us.

I won't go into detail on what exactly they said next, other than it was highly complementary, like any of the three could almost charm me right out of my panties with little additional effort under these unique circumstances. I'm of course ordinarily not quite that easy in the flesh, but Barbie apparently is! Barbie doesn't have a boyfriend either, she's a single free operator, and these three men, four including Ken, aren't rough on the eyes at all. Looking as they do I'm quite certain that "no" was a word they weren't familiar with at all. So they look good, hell they even smell good; I just LOVE the way a man smells fresh out of the shower, it's almost a fetish of mine!

I'm also a bound teenager in a human sized display box, and these men are looking at me like a kid does a happy meal with a toy inside; like almost salivating over this girl several years their junior presented as a quasi-doll before them. In my box I'm even on display for them, and that objectifying concept does something wild for me too. I was just starting junior high and wearing my first real bra when these men were likely graduating high school, it's profound to think of our age difference like this.

"Should we untie you?" the oldest looking one with the beard asks with a rather playful spark in his eyes. So much to ponder with so few words I think to myself. Ken is hanging back too, letting these guys have their moment with me, this should tell me something about his comfort level here…

I know all their given names even though I'm simply Barbie to them, but their names are irrelevant to the story, and I can't use their real ones anyway for obvious reasons. I could make up names, and I will for clarity, so from here on in they are the eldest or beard-man, black arm ink man, and red arm ink man. I would find out shortly that beard-man was the third man to come along, but he was also very recently and surprisingly single - like Ken - and needed this diversion too as it was an ugly surprise breakup; and it was his new truck that they all came together in anyway. His work friends were looking out for him though, and likely also a free ride, but it's hard not to respect the friendship aspect with what the three have going on together. If they came separately and arrived one at a time it would feel different to me; as it was, this felt a little like an invading army about to conquer some new territory. It's also a rather long story as to why Ken didn't choose beard-man initially, but truth be told, not all that interesting of a long story, sufficient to say that there is a back story there that will likely never be told.

"I would say that's entirely up to you," I tell beard-man playfully. I'm working on this "saying two things at once" form of flirty communication, but Ken is damn near a master at this himself, so he's almost a tutor for me. So with just a few words I've told beard-man - a man I've just said a few words to - that he's now the arbiter of my very freedom. In other words, I've given this man a power over me quite casually. I'm still Ken's birthday present, but I've also just told Ken and the others that I'm willing to maybe be shared, willing to play along, even if I don't know the exact rules of the game. At the same time it's kind of surreal, as if I'm watching another do and say these things for me, things I might not have the courage for otherwise.

I can see that they bought two pizzas and a box of sweet wine with them, suggesting that I might not be a complete surprise to them, as none of these guys look like wine drinkers to me. I think to verbally offer to stay bound for them in some salacious way, but I also think that might be pushing things along a bit too. I want what I want… maybe, but I also passively want somebody else setting the pace; if that makes sense. Drinking and eating pizza with these guys might either be a fun way to start, or the whole deal, but I'm also open to the other possibilities, this both about my very most needy time of the month and a golden opportunity up here at the cabin being away from "adult" authority; if of course I still have the courage.

…My guy maybe has the courage to "let" me do this thing, but do I have the courage myself? Would it even be a let down for him if I were to get almost all the way there, but chicken out when it came time to actually act? I know the concept of my doing something like this pops him off like nothing else, and watching Ken and I roughly go at it seems to do pretty much the same, but it's such a big real world step, others are involved, or soon might be…

Untied from my display box I strut my way over to the wine and accept a full glass from Ken as my new friends watch, I'm taunting them, or more accurately Barbie is, but it's also more playful than straight up sexy. I'm done with deep thought for a bit with all this manly attention, and both Ken and I thank them for the wine and pizza as we three get acquainted while we eat, again great guys, but they don't know what to do with their eyes. It's funny really, I can tell that they don't want to perve out and stare, but they can't help but to look either; again, impossibly good for my at times shaky teen ego. Sometimes that kind of thing is very uncomfortable, like creepy uncomfortable, but here with these particular guys I'm most receptive, and the guys get the message as if it's imprinted into their DNA.

…Back in the day I knew very little about pheromones and all that stuff, but looking back on that night there had to be something "in the air" to explain how we were all interacting; I think both my mind and body were sending signals of availability that those four men were receiving…

I don't always eat the pizza crust - the lipstick doesn't help either - and I find it curious that red-ink man doesn't eat the crust too. In his case he and his live-in girlfriend save them for his at-home pooch - or so he tells me - and this both gives me an idea, and reminds me of our own human pet perhaps hiding in his dog house, or even covertly watching from the shadows. I fight the urge to even look towards the rear windows of the cabin - making eye contact with Ken instead - not wanting to draw attention towards what's outside in the dark as no good can come from that discovery. I will myself to forget he's even there, easier this time because he's on the outside of the dark glass and looking in; it's that perspective thing again. I do briefly think about how very exposed he potentially is though, if someone should accidentally turn on the rear outside door light, or somehow see him in the scant light bleeding out from the cabin's rear windows.

But back to the guys and this ad-hoc party of Ken's - which was my actual focus - the entire feel of the night to that point was friendly and playful, although you just had to be there to get that particular vibe in the room with us. In other words, if I was going for something "against my will" feeling, it maybe didn't look to happen with those particular guys. It's still fun though, and pretty far from my own personal comfort zone too, "easy" not really a vibe that I intentionally give off to strangers.

I'm one teenage woman dressed in something custom altered and cinched tight to show off what nature gave me though - it literally hugs my body - the heels make my legs both look and feel fantastic too, all the way to my mid thigh where my tight former uniform dress forces me to take short steps. I even have some practice walking in these heels now, so that I don't look completely clumsy and awkward while doing so. It might not be a straight up sexy strut, but the guys aren't exactly complaining as their manly attention pumps my ego. I for sure wasn't the best looking teen woman in the state, but I was the best looking teen woman in that cabin; and four sets of eyes are re-reminding me of this perpetually.

These guys all know each other and share a common bond, but they're super attentive towards me and not talking "shop" any more than necessary, as I'm apparently the new interesting element here; the wild variable they want to interact with and get to know. Looking is nice, even for myself, but interacting and knowing a person is obviously better. Ken is even getting into this - I see the hunger in his eyes - although where "this" goes is still uncertain, other than I'm a teen dressed for sex and hanging out with four masculine men in a remote cabin. So far the guys mostly have their manners on, and for nice guys wanting a date or a long term relationship this would be essential, but I don't want nice guys, nor a date with any of them, other than Ken obviously. I'm selling myself way short here, but I'm of the increasingly randy mindset as to see what's physically possible with four men, but we're just not there yet. The feeling might be lurking in the room with us, but none of us has taken that first big leap…

Red-ink man has a live-in girlfriend, and black-ink man has a girlfriend still at home with her folks as she's attending college, but neither girl is present and not really the subject of this adventure either. My future husband has a shared girlfriend too, but here I am, all alone with these four guys instead of him, although so far it's still innocent fun. The wine and comradery have me feeling very playful and loose, it's a nice little get together so far, and the guys' attention is almost like a drug for me, but with that being said, at that point in time it's unsure if it's going much further, despite all that manly attention that I'm soaking in. I'd maybe like it to, but just like with Ken, I'm not asking for it either, at least not directly.

What if I was actually wrong, about the sexy vibe, about everything with these "older" men? I'd be crushed if I pushed for something only to get put off. Two are attached, so I assume not interested in anything but flirting maybe, and with all of them driving up together, it's not like beard-man can stay the night without them. I actually find him powerful and interesting, but there are quite a few miles between interesting and fooling around.

They ask me about my unique doll dress, about its origin, drawing me further into the conversation. I tell the story of how the dress came to be, leaving out that Ken and I are technically steady, and obviously that my actual boyfriend - the young man who agreed to this human gift of Ken's - is also leashed up and outside hiding somewhere, potentially watching all this unfold. I have their attention for something I did now too, not just the picture I present painted up and provocatively dressed like a China doll for them. They think I drove myself here in my car, and that's kind of the way it went down too, other than who actually owns "my" car. I'm a bit vague on my motivations for doing this with Ken, on my boyfriend's too; could they possibly know that he got off on lending me out, that there were guys like that? Could they instead know that Ken was special to me, that he had gifts and abilities that I appreciate, to go along with the inside parts that I also appreciate? They don't ask about my "absent" boyfriend though, we all just kind of steer around the subject, just as I have the girlfriend one for all three of them; looking gift horses in the mouth comes to mind, but only much later on. Guys can be opportunistic though, and horned up men doubly so.

"So, you made it with velcro, to be easily removed, kind of like a real doll dress?" beard-man asks for clarification, but with a playful smile. He's both impressed and intrigued, and he makes no effort to hide this. How he came to his doll-dress knowledge I don't exactly know, but I don't ask either. Maybe a little sister, maybe he's even into dolls? Back in the day I'm pretty sure guy dolls were called "action figures," so playing with them as a boy wouldn't necessarily be all that feminine, but the admission was still curious. He's a very manly man though, but maybe this isn't all that unusual for such men who are uber comfortable in their own skin…

Beard-man is studying my face as he speaks, looking for me to recoil, perhaps at the suggestion that my body - that they've been noticing ever since I stepped out of my display box - and my custom made easy to remove dress, might be separated.

"Ripped off and destroyed" I suggest, upping the ante significantly. I told them collectively that Ken was supposed to do that for me last night, but that I had apparently made my little dress a little too good. I'm not wanting to tell these guys that Ken, their masculine work buddy, hadn't been rough enough with either me, or it last night. I've pretty much said that I've been birthday-gifted to Ken by another though, implying that their buddy got laid last night and everybody involved is good with that, and even this is a huge step for teen-me under the circumstances. This would be an impossible confession to make to any of our friends - even my guy and I don't really talk about such things in detail - but not for Barbie with these "strangers," strangers that I'll, or she'll, likely never see again.

"Sooooo, is Ken going to help you with that after we go home then?" red-ink man asks lecherously, jumping into the exchange with us. His tone is one of, "are you two just using us to get him wound up enough for round two; to maybe properly finish the job?" Red-ink man's tone is maybe a bit jealous - he's playing this very cool though - or perhaps even indifferent for all I know, but I'm rather certain that seeing my dress in tatters all over the cabin floor would be just fine for him as well. He was struggling with where to look when he first laid eyes on me just like the other two, flattering to be sure under the circumstances, but I suspect his eyes have told me where his mind was really at, girlfriend or not. I don't know this for certain though, or about the others, and getting Ken into a spot at his job with this little get together wasn't what I wanted either. Red-ink man has somebody to go home to though, so it's actually only so bad for him; he can get his proverbial appetite in one place, but still "eat" his late supper back home. Then of course is the implied message that I'm needing something further that Ken didn't give me in totality last night, and while this may be technically accurate, Ken didn't exactly leave me in a terribly bad spot last night, sore back and all…

"If I was lusted up enough, could I actually wear out more than one "normal" man in a single night?" I asked myself, the thought suddenly somewhat relevant.

"He had his chance last night" I tell the impossibly handsome red-ink man playfully, letting the implied offer hang in the air. Ken has a playful pouty face on with that, like a little boy that just came to the conclusion that he might actually have to share one of his toys with his big brother, or in this case maybe three of his brutish big brothers, all at once. I could almost imagine a seven year old Ken whining that it wasn't fair, that they'd ruin it on him. In my defense, Ken could have put the brakes on right here, but to also be fair to him he was likely seeing and feeling first hand how much we were all getting into this sexy little exchange; just as caught up in what was in the air as the rest of us were. The way I was introduced to Ken's work friends made it difficult for Ken to lay exclusive claim to me now too; something he had alluded to a bit earlier and proving that he knew them quite well…

I didn't have near the courage to hop up on the table and strip for those guys like a porn star or anything - and that wasn't quite exactly the vibe in the room anyway - but my Barbie persona getting playfully undressed or even stripped "by" them was a totally different thing, totally doable in my mind with how lusted up I was becoming. I had easily and naturally stripped for Ken once though; what does that tell me?

Yes, I had manipulated things in the direction I desired, but stripping for these guys would be putting on a show that I likely didn't have the courage for, although getting stripped and undressed by them, allowing them to do so was right up my alley. For me, it's almost like jumping into a cold pool, as in ‘once you leap, you can't un-leap’. I had to somehow tell these guys - to include Ken - that I was most likely good with that next very big step though, without actually telling them verbally; it was another fine line to walk. These weren't the fictional boys from Crestmont though, once they had me out of my clothes - roughly or otherwise - they would likely then roughly "have" me for real. This was the pounding heart point of no return, I think we all felt it equally, with the exception of my watching boyfriend perhaps. I'm not certain that he had heard the interaction clearly between the five of us inside that cabin, nor maybe seen the body language and felt what we were all projecting; not without his glasses at the distance he had to maintain.

"You know, it was my birthday last month," red-ink man tells us all, and his buddies, and even Ken himself, confirm this with nodding heads.

"Was it now?" I ask with playful suspicion in my voice. These are all good looking men to my eye, but red-ink man was like a magazine cover, like he could model in his spare time.

"Mine's in just two months" black-ink man opportunistically offers, after seeing my reaction to his friends words; jumping on the proverbial band wagon for perhaps his own free ride to the show. Both of their tones are still playful, but their tone also maybe suggests that they'd like something "special" for their birthday too, kind of along the lines of what Ken had just gotten the night before; although we haven't discussed the specific details of that obviously. I see where this is going, but I'm not put off by it, more intrigued at the cautious way that they're approaching this proverbial "free lunch," or more accurately at this late hour, "free dessert."

Either or both of them could retreat back to the humor side of things themselves if I reacted badly though; tell me, or even Ken, that they were just joking. They all work together, so not too much non-consensual can really happen without consequences for all. I selfishly want what I want for me, as kind of a teenage bucket list kind of thing before I eventually get married; but this could also make Ken a rock star at work with the guys, the kind of thing that guys talk about for the rest of their lives maybe.

Ken is intently watching me, to see what I'm wanting, he's not possessively stopping this lusty interaction though, he's instead kind of caught up in the moment himself. Ken himself is a dominant character, but in this company not the most dominant by far, even though it's his place and birthday gift.

"So, you want some help with that, or are you just going to tease us along all night?" beard-man asks for the group. He's still smiling, but I maybe feel a little like I'm getting ganged up on with his "us" comment. Beard-man was not only the most needy apparent ringleader of the three, but also their ride home too, so some solidarity was to be expected. He might even be Ken's boss too, or supervisor or something, but nobody has come out and said that; it's more the feeling that they all work together, like they're one big happy family all on the same level, despite the age differences. Was this the way it was, or this the way it is now, with this special invite, with this implied offer to share "something" private and fun up at Ken's cabin? Comradery and work friendship was one thing, but getting your work buddies laid after a breakup was a whole different thing for a guy; or so I came to once again realize…

I'm a nineteen year old young woman with her fair share of self-doubt about a whole bunch of things; appearance, job worthiness, girlfriend worthiness, a less than ideal home life even, all of it I suppose. Anyway, tamping that down and boosting my ego is now twenty year old Ken who quite literally wants me like nobody else - hung from the rafters even - and now three mid twenties men who were wanting on me too here, making me feel like a magazine's centerfold or something. I've apparently turned four men on, all at the same time, although I don't know why this should surprise me, other than some lacking self esteem. It's great to be needed and wanted for somebody like me, very empowering, and this feeling selfishly makes me want to have some more of it, to give something to get something, so to speak. I can't say for sure what it was that night, excess testosterone and pheromones in the air or something, who knows, but there was definitely something in the air, and I was getting so "up" for what we were all thinking about but not specifically saying; every word I spoke dripped sexual availability…

"Was that what I was doing?" I playfully ask, all while both smiling and putting in all the teenage "come hither" sexual connotations that I could in my tone. I'm making direct eye contact with beard-man maybe five feet away - just outside of my personal space - as I speak; he has very nice honey brown eyes with green streaks of color, they're impossibly captivating. I want to feel that full beard of his too, maybe just with my hands, but a nice deep kiss would be oh so much better. Just like while camping with Ken, I have this sudden urge to make out with beard-man, and I don't care who's watching, and perhaps my eye contact even suggests this, or for all I know he's been going without lately and he's as horned up as I shouldn't be.

"Come here," I tell beard-man, motioning him in with my curled and beckoning right index finger. He wasn't all that far away from me anyway, but my own need and curiosity have driven me to ask for something I didn't think I should have to. I'm like that sometimes, I make walls, doors, and fences in my mind, only to open or hop over them myself. With both hands I feel his beard, it's not scratchy at all like Ken's whiskers get when he hasn't shaved for a few days. I feel the others watching, including Ken, but there is nothing stopping me now. It's like a snowball rolling down a mountain, gaining both speed and mass as it hurls towards the bottom.

Beard-man's hands were both on my hips - he had to put them someplace - and this is still very respectful with how forward I'm being; almost disproportionally so. I pull him down and in with my hands and kiss him, and he kisses me back. It's just lips on lips, but extremely hot with the other's watching us. I feel his hands around me now, pulling me tight, but not really grinding or humping on me or anything. I can't help but to feel his erect self through my dress though, telling me that what I'm doing is no "hardship" for him. He's also toying with some of the velcro just above my butt, and I tell him to go ahead and pull it while only an inch from his face, but he only unsticks a short section and then re-hooks it, the tearing noise it makes quite suggestive though.

"Oh, she's a terrible, terrible tease," Ken chimes in playfully while watching our little intimate exchange - perhaps letting the guys know he's still there, but also maybe giving "permission" to go further - and all the guys laugh a little as it's possibly a bit uncomfortable for them suddenly. It's time to give my own little pouty face in response, but everything is still fun here. The implied offer of - at the very least - "helping" me out of my dress has been voiced, and Ken hasn't walked it back at all, or really set any conditions, so in my mind it's "game on" until somebody stops us. Implied here as well was the "fact" that Ken might need a little help with his borrowed terrible tease of his; that he'd be good with that, in theory at least. The other two guys were unknowns at this point; more spectators for the show, or perhaps additional participants? Beard-man, Ken, and I could probably have a pretty good show together, but what of the other two, three counting our new outside pooch? My collared and locked-out guy physically had little choice but to watch - unless we brought this party into the backyard - but the two inked up men had no such physical restrictions on their behavior at all…

"Last chance…" beard-man tells me, he's looking into my eyes and talking directly to me, taking charge; Ken isn't in this conversation, it's like he's not even there for a few moments. I've already told this man that I'm a consenting adult, an interested consenting adult, and of course that I want to be here, but he's being really sure before we get past the point of no return. There's a finality to his tone, a "we're not playing around here" seriousness, but to me this is still one big game, just another teen sexual adventure. I intellectually know that there are bad men in this world, but I haven't had to deal with them directly, so while those kinds of men are a threat, not a real-feeling one, to me, fantasies aside…

"… We either stay the night, or take off and leave you and Ken to sort things out on your own."

"We're having such fun, please stay," I tell him candidly. So much said with just a few words, yes I want what's maybe to happen, and everybody is invited too, but implied in my mind is that he and his friends shouldn't expect one hundred percent passive cooperation either…

In my mind I'm thinking "I'm Barbie, do you want to F-ing play, or talk all night long?"

It's actually Ken who's on me first, he's tight up behind me and my wrists are in his powerful hands, and just like with my guy the night before he's twisting my wrists behind me, forcing my chest out, but from a standing position this time. I maybe didn't appreciate the helpless feeling of this when it was being done to my naked boyfriend as I dispassionately watched, but with Ken's thumbs reflexively pressing into my pressure points I have like zero strength to resist him. I feel like I'm clamped in a human vice, like resistance is futile, like submission is my only logical choice. Ken passionately kisses up my neck, possibly to soften his rough manhandling, but I also feel his erect guy parts poking at my butt, so I know he's really, really into this himself. I wiggle my butt back at him, to let him know where my twisted brain is at. I hate to say that I was hotter than I'd ever been before because that sounds cliché, but I was very hot and needy, despite Ken taking reasonably good care of me only the night before. I'm like a caged sexual monster, and somebody is about to foolishly let me out…

I don't know how much of this our "pooch" actually saw, the physical details, because the other three men have their backs to the rear-yard facing windows, possibly blocking his view. I'm in the center of a rough circle formed by four muscular men though - one of them holding me fast - and I'm not exactly screaming for help or anything. My chest is wanting to pop out of my modified dress with the way Ken is holding my arms pinned, "presenting me" to his friends like an offer of deeper friendship, which I suppose I am. It's obvious food for thought, but just a bit later as I'm overwhelmed here.

I'm nearly panting, my body getting ready for what it surely knows is next, storing up oxygen. And not one word of complaint from me either, so unless these guys were dead or something, they have to know how into this kinky I am, how very lusted up and in the moment all this manly stimuli has made me. Yes, I had some wine, but my glass isn't even empty yet, it's instead this four on one older man thing that has me like this primarily; no excuses. They didn't get me drunk and take advantage, it was almost the opposite really.

What happened next was kind of a blur, but I'm fairly certain it was red-ink man and beard-man that each have a hand inside the neck and fitted boob area of my modified uniform dress, their rough fingers dragging on my erect and overly sensitive nipples as they stand left and right of me. With the simple move of just taking up the slack in the neck area of my modified dress my stuffed-into-my-dress boobs have already made an early appearance, egging the men on. The flash of intimate flesh is all the catalyst that they need though, as they collectively jerk and rip my dress open and off from the front, making me feel like a tossed around rag doll. I then high step out of what's left cooperatively, denuding myself in the process, less my heels and panties, all as Ken holds me as if I'm clamped in a human vice for them to do the deed.

Permission isn't a problem, Ken is literally holding me for them. My dress wasn't designed to be opened like this though, and thankfully it's finally destroyed and gone for good as beard-man kicks it towards the rear windows with his foot. The tearing sound inside that cabin as well was just incredible, violent really, and there was a finality to it as well. Under different circumstances the implication might be "she has nothing to wear home now," which is hugely committing. Nearly nude in the presence of several clothed others, that's also very hot for me, and another kinky thing that my submissive guy and I apparently share. I have to be pretty wound up hot to ordinarily lose my humility like this, that other lusty part of my brain obviously in full control now…

"Fuck, do you look good!" beard-man tells me as he runs his hands up my sides, then cupping my teenage boobs in his calloused hands, my ribs there to count as he did the deed. He's a bit rough with his hands, but I like that more times than not, and this was definitely a "I need rough" kind of moment. He comes in to suck on one, which I also just love, so much so that a groan escapes my lips and I tip my head back reflexively, accidentally smacking Ken in the face with the back of my head. I'm almost nude, and I have more manly attention than I ever thought possible at one time, this almost can't get any better for me.

Anyway, Ken has let down his guard with both my dress ripped off, and my accidental head butt, releasing my wrists foolishly, not knowing the depth that I'll go to so as to up this game for myself. I take this opportunity to kick off my heels, all to make these guys work for it a bit. A ripped off dress was nice and all, but I want rough manhandling too, and there is one way to do this without actually asking for it directly. My guy is also leashed outside like a naked dog, and while I don't want him physically participating, I maybe want to let him see first hand how playfully I am into this with these guys, that this is anything but non-consensual for me. It's almost the perfect fantasy realized at this point; I'm just so in the moment here!

Anyway, out of the blue I laugh, spin around, and bolt for the cabin's front door and towards the darkness, once I'm actually barefoot, all as the guys look as if to say, "what the hell is she doing now?" They maybe thought they had the measure of me, just a horned up teen looking for some over the top adventure, but this was unexpected. One of them manages to get a good hold of my thin white panties from behind, temporarily upsetting my balance, but his tearing them from me as I run away only fuels their pursuit; and my complimentary desire to run away from them like a terrified hunted animal. I don't want to escape, just to run and be captured; it was a very primal "in the moment" thing I was feeling.

The guys are just a few steps behind me through the door, but Ken apparently isn't one of them, he actually lets his buddies do the deed; but I think his back still hurts. I circle the cabin to the right, running naked and fast with adrenaline to spare, all while being chased by at least two very horned up men that just ripped my clothes off; to anybody watching it would look like a crime in progress, or maybe a very wild frat party. I have home field advantage though, I know the terrain and obstacles, even in the dark. As I round to the backyard I'm running directly towards my naked guy - where he's supposed to be attached to his dog run cable and lead anyway - and this is just not ideal, not really well thought out on my part. The single back porch light is now on too, negating my home field advantage, but this lets me see that the dog cage enclosure is closed, and I assume our new pooch is inside and wisely hiding from the chasing men; who to be honest almost certainly have other things on their minds. Two are behind me and chasing me into the arms of the third, beard-man, who had apparently circled around the cabin to the left cooperatively so as to ambush me; which he easily did.

I'm hamming this up big time even while running pretty much into his powerful arms, but naked and almost in the woods is a very base, emotional, animal-like thing, although I really have nowhere to run to. I'm struggling and mock kicking anyway, and as a result beard-man is forced to abandon his less than powerful grip around my middle just under my boobs to grab me more forcefully by my flailing arms instead, as each of the others grabs a leg each so they carry me back towards the cabin's front door like this, all as my guy apparently watched from the concealed safety of his enclosure; or so I later learned. I'm struggling for real as I'm overpowered and carried completely off the ground towards my "fate," making this impossibly real for me, but I'm also laughing hysterically as if being tickled to death, so everybody has to know I'm good with it, despite my mock resistance. Again, mixed messages from this crazy naked WILLING teen, but it was extraordinarily fun too, a once in a lifetime experience.

Maybe at this point the guys think I'm seriously fun, or insane with lust, or maybe just insane. We had talked though, and I had offered, in a way, so I'm kind of getting what I'm after. In a way too it's all about me, what I want; so giving, but also selfish, all at the same time…

The guys get me inside, although getting through the door was a challenge as they had to turn me sideways and wrestle me a bit to do so. Anyway, they plop me down on my back on the big table. It's an indoor dining table, but it's made like an outdoor picnic table, but with nice looking hardwood timbers, so rustic, but also fitting a rustic cabin. It's an impossibly sturdy table, like you could park a car on top of it, like it was constructed inside - or the cabin itself was built around it - as it couldn't possibly fit through any door with the attached seating benches. It was heavy too; just moving it looked all but impossible.

Beard-man is holding my wrists pinned to the table top over my head and looking down at me from there triumphantly, all while standing at the head of the table like I was the Sunday dinner roast he was about to carve. I'm still panting from my brief run, and his buddies are still holding my legs fairly wide too, so I'm pretty naked and helpless here, my boobs gyrating as I struggle with my captors. But this to me also feels a tiny bit like the dog that chases cars, and now that the dog - or dogs - have caught the car, a "what now" feeling invades the room. I'm super willing and "dressed" for the occasion, but to these guys I could also be right on the edge of my own "Cathy moment," and to be perfectly honest good guys just don't ordinarily act like this. With all that being said though, it's the eldest bearded man that breaks the ice here, no doubt seeing my desire the closest, reading me perhaps the best.

Beard-man then reaches down and kisses me from his inverted position over my head, and oh boy do I hungrily kiss back, no ambiguity here at all. My passion and desire are off the charts wild, and with my actions I've just told everybody there this exact thing. The boys from Crestmont would never kiss up on me though, they'd just get to it, binding me up - maybe even hanging me from the rafters of their barn like Ken had - and then likely doing pretty much wherever they pleased until they ran out of manly energy, but I digress. Anyway, beard-man's beard still tickles me a little, and this is nothing but hot and sexy making out with him like this. I'm pinned to the table and one hundred percent theirs with that kiss, but the guys haven't released my legs yet either, maybe remembering what I did the last time I was foolishly set free.

Beard-man then tells somebody - I'm assuming Ken here, as "everybody" else is accounted for - that we need some rope from the box, but I don't hear the actual answer, as if this is just another order to be followed, no questions asked. I'm fine with rope, and if given the chance I'd even put my wrists together to make it easy for them…

I've maybe lost track of where Ken was for a moment or two, but with his "I have something better," I feel him cuffing up my wrists, as beard-man continues to hold me, adjusting his hold on my arms to further up my forearms. With both wrists cuffed Ken attaches a four-ish foot long chain between them, over my head, but I'm not actively resisting the restraint part of this. This may have the appearance of being a forced activity, but I'm so lusted up and in the moment that I'm in an altered state of mind; something I'm one hundred percent sure these men have already figured out. There is just something about the way men smell when they're aroused, and being the center of so much manly attention like this is just something incredible for me too. These guys aren't doing anything "to" me, but we're instead doing this thing together, cooperatively, even though somebody looking in the windows with a collar around his neck might not realize this.

The chain is cooperatively passed over the end of the table by where beard-man is standing, and then he eases his hold on my arms and lets the leg guys drag me towards the other end of the table and my actual fate; my wrist chain and my wrists trapped over my head by the underside of the stout table itself. My butt is positioned at the other end of the table, half on, and half off, all as the underside leg structure of the table itself stops my wrist chain from sliding further, pinning my wrists over my head most securely. If left alone I could possibly scramble to the head end of the table, roll off, and escape with my wrists still chained together, but to where exactly, not to mention that these men obviously had other ideas. I've teased them up with innuendo and unspoken offers; and now they're going to collect!

Ken takes beard-man's place and reaches in to make out with me too, possibly tasting bead man though, because he only does that for a minute before moving down to suckle one of my still heaving boobs. He's rough with it as he does so and I love it - the noises I'm making confirm this for the others - but he's as amped up as the others, or so it seems. It's beard-man first though, but he's first between my legs with that beard of his to go down on me, which is a very unique feeling to be sure. I twist and flinch half-heartedly as if I don't want this, but both guys are still holding my legs, and the cuffs hold me firm at the other end. The dynamic way the guys respond to my leg thrusts, and then cooperatively split my legs to open them obscenely wide for their buddy; that was maybe even better for me than the unyielding nature of the chains and cuffs. I obviously still love being firmly bound, but this was seriously wild too. Men were doing this to me, more than one; warm, breathing, and lusting men, overpowering me, men with a rough physical agenda! If this were my fantasy beard-man would just roughly have at it as his buddies held me down tight for him, but having an experienced man go down on you is kind of nice too.

With my exhilarating naked run to escape, being captured, then being both held down and chained, all while Ken was working over my chest with another man going down on me, just WOW! I popped off in seconds, zoom to the moon! We hardly got into any kind of rhythm, he and I; flexing my muscles with my big squealing orgasm and taking my spine clear off the table, all as the guys struggled to hold my legs open and out. This was a different kind of struggling, but the guys held me firm anyway. What an ice breaker for how the night might go! The guys all share a look, as if to say "holy F, is this girl hot for it!"

I was also left thinking that beard-man must have really liked the look of my bald womanhood to dive right into it like that; it's an irony really when you think about it, but maybe Ken had boasted about my honeypot nickname for all I know…

To be fair to the guys, I'm sure my powerful orgasm while struggling and riding beard-man's beard was further confirmation that I was seriously into this rough manhandling group thing; that I wanted this as bad as I had perhaps led them to believe, all as I verbally teased them just a few minutes earlier. I could say "be careful what you wish for…" but so far this was a very positive experience; a magnificent sharp and quick orgasm almost bordering on the painfull…

Anyway, beard-man then stepped out of his blue jeans and boxers and was rolling a rubber on before I even knew it. Where they came from was a further mystery, but I'm glad that they had them. It's one thing to have too-big-to-fit Ken have me bare and natural while my guy wasn't allowed to, but obviously not everybody. I'm a wet gushing mess down there though - I even smell my own arousal - and beard-man going down on me first only made this worse, or better, depending on your point of view I suppose. I even see some of me glistening in beard-man's beard, so with every breath he has to be getting some of that, inhaling my scent up close and personal, driving him on towards his own sexual insanity. While an obvious taker of a man, even he gave me something rather wonderful first. I had asked for this though, but this wasn't the talking phase of this ordeal now, it was all rapid action, in my mind almost like a shark feeding frieze on one of those nature channels.

To be clear these were decent and nice working-men, men who worked with both their minds and muscles, but they were men first. I had teased them along with teenage sexual inuendo for the first part of the night - pretty much since I had met them with my objectified alter ego persona - so it's not unreasonable that they were roughly having a bit of what I was offering.

It's still pretty hot and wild, even with the texture robbing nature of the condom, and with everything I had going on, beard-man - only the third man ever at that point to gain actual physical entry to this somewhat exclusive club - has an easy time getting inside of me pretty much all the way, in like three aggressive strokes, all as his buddies watch with an "I'm hungry too!" look on their lusty faces. His buddies have my legs held wide, they're active participants, and between what Ken had done to me the night before, and beard-man's rather brief oral, I felt like I was gaping in invitation for him; so even my body wasn't making this too challenging for him.

I'm no virgin at this point - I already have two somewhat steady lovers - so my body is therefor on autopilot, it knows how to do this attempted breeding thing reflexively, so the result is like both watching and feeling my body - Barbie - perform for and entertain this hungry thrusting man. All three have sexually hungry and determined looks on their faces, I'll never forget those looks, nor that it was I that had driven them to this; to the brink of near insanity themselves. I had playfully teased and tormented them earlier, maybe in a quasi-innocent teenage way and not really knowing what I was after here, but they're collecting anyway. I had accidentally teased Ken like this early on in our camping trip adventure with my almost doesn't fit bikini, but he had somehow held himself at bay; not these rough men in this particular setting though…

Beard-man has my ankles in his own wrists now - instead of my whole foot and ankle wrapped up in his buddies biceps - and he's holding them up, open, and out wide with my knees locked as my legs form the letter "V." He drills into me with a hip-thrusting determined look on his face, our flesh slapping together with nothing but his slick condom between, he apparently savoring even this muted feeling, which feels really good to me too, but not "here we go again" awesome. I've been spoiled by the sensory feelings of large-man no-condom sex with Ken though, it's my preference despite the mess afterwards, although this condom thing with these guys is best all things considered. STD's weren't really a "big" thing back then, but they were still a thing.

Anyway, Ken has temporarily abandoned my chest to perhaps watch his work buddy plunder my body a bit lower, or perhaps make sure he's actually using a condom. Just like my future husband before that camping trip, it occurs to me at some point that Ken has never watched anybody but him even make out with me, let alone "have" me, as my guy and I just don't do that kind of stuff in front of him pretty much ever. Ken maybe doesn't like to do it in front of my guy either, but that doesn't stop him. Ken is overall considerate of my guy, but when lusted up and in the moment, maybe just a bit less considerate, most certainly as this adventure progressed for us three.

For myself this is more like an out of body experience, like I'm watching somebody else do all this crazy stuff, almost like watching a XXX movie from the other side of the camera. I'm drawn back to the here and now when I feel my unattended boobs rocking back and forth on my chest - it's a nice familiar feeling when on my back and Ken is being aggressive with me - all in time this time however with beard-man's thrusting, but only for a bit. Both arm-ink guys temporarily have nothing to do but watch their buddy drill into me, and apparently not being passive "I'd like to watch" kinds of men themselves, each shares a look and then takes one of my rocking boobs "in hand", for some needed attention. The three men share me cooperatively for a bit, but this leaves Ken temporarily out and watching his buddies have all the fun. Ken doesn't necessarily like to watch either, but he's also the host here, although more on that in a bit…

The inked up men are kneading and suckling at my boobs, but I need it a bit rougher, and I tell them so with a single word. They respond and seriously start to roughly manhandle them, all while slobbering all over them as I make little yelpy noises while throwing my head left and right, as if I'm shaking my head "no." I'm also clenching my hands and toes into fists, telling them that this feels really, really good for me with the wild noises escaping my lips; again delivering some very mixed messages to somebody perhaps watching, and not hearing our brief verbal exchange. They're drawing something from them now as I feel the unique tandem sucking and nibbling sensations, milking me just like Ken had done, but both boobs at once this time. It's two men who are doing this to me though, using me at the same time, three really counting the thrusting beard-man standing between my obscenely spread legs; two of them even bumping their heads together on and off as they devour their moving target atop the table like a hot Sunday supper.

It's sensory overload once again for me, and then still-another set of hands holds my sweaty head still so that I'm staring at the beams overhead and the light hanging over the table, brushing the matted hair from my eyes tenderly. He looks at my sweaty veins-bulging head and face, making sure I'm good with all this; it's touching really. I focus on the light overtop of the big table as I now can't even move the one thing I have free to move, burning spots into my eyes with it. I'm getting absolutely pounded on this table as I'm overwhelmed by three men at once - four if you count Ken - and I stare at that light transfixed as I let these sensations roll over and through me. Ken is temporarily left out of the sexual fray though, with pretty much nothing to do but watch his work buddies have all the fun, have their rough way with me and use my body for their pleasure. The sucking, panting, and grunting noises the men are making added to my own yelps and chirps, making for one hell of a soundtrack if this had been an XXX feature at the local adult theater. It's the unique sound of men - meaning more than one - having off the charts wild sex with a single female, not something you easily forget, even twenty plus years later…

There is possibly nothing worse for a little boy than to watch another boy, or several, play roughly with a cherrised toy. Not that any of these men were boys any longer, but it's just the feeling that pops into my head suddenly. There's no stopping this thing now though, this proverbial snowball is rolling down the side of the mountain all on its own with tremendous energy, but I still have a way to include Ken that I think he might like. We don't do this often, he and I; it's hardly a "go-to" kind of thing for us, like my own guy going down on me always seems to be.

"Let me suck you," I offer softly with both my eyes and slightly parted lips, and as strange as it sounds it's like he can hear my thoughts. I've only said a few words once this thing got physical for us back inside the cabin, it's not really a talking event, it's more like raw passion and lust, and breeding instincts driven by countless years of human history; the guys know what to do by instinct, they just have to actually do it, no talking necessary, other than minor "stage" directions…

I'm still focusing on all the competing sensations, but I also feel Ken abandon his hold on my head to clamber up on the tabletop with me, stepping out of his pants and boxers somewhere along the way and turning my head one handed, using the other to smack me in the cheek with his impossibly erect cock to let me know he's there and waiting, as I've once again closed my eyes. This is a hot scene to watch, but overloaded as I am shutting off one of my senses lets me focus more fully on the others. Blindfolded would have been hotter, but blindfolded and gagged and we'd be very close to one of my fantasies, although this bound and held down thing is likely right at the edge of what even these horned up good men will do willingly. Not everybody shares the same kinks obviously, most especially post orgasm when more rational thoughts return.

Ken's also trying not to crush my extended right arm and shoulder in the process, so his positioning is anything but comfortable looking for him, but this is what I have left to offer him at the moment. He's also "up" for this thing with me and his work friends though, there is no hiding that physical fact, although his getting left out of the action doesn't really seem fair; full on hypocrisy I later realize. Anyway, I open up and take him in, but to be fair it's no more than a token effort on my part as I only have so much reserve concentration to offer, but I'm at least doing "something" to include him in this shark feeding frenzy he's helped arrange. So amusingly enough Ken ends up with his big erect cock less than a foot away from the top of one nursing man's head, Ken's bare right knee even lightly bumping his buddies head as he attacks my right boob; which puts black-ink man off once he sees the cause. He can't help but to turn from his task and look, black-ink man's HOLY HELL! adding some humanity to what was otherwise a quite animalistic group coupling.

"You'll ruin her for us with that fucking thing!" black-ink man barks, perhaps pumping Ken's ego, perhaps telling him nicely that he's to go last, even though I'm his gift that he's magnanimously sharing. Size and duration have been a problem for Ken in the past though, so maybe this isn't a compliment to him at all. Or, maybe this is further suggesting to Ken how "perfect" we are for each other, as in custom fit-like?

Go last, or watch from outside and don't "go" at all; which was actually more cruel? I asked myself, but only later on, as there were few deep thoughts that night for me. Ken jokingly calls them sloppy seconds, even when he's going second to his own first, as was his semi-exclusive right before this moment, it's also profound to think of this in those terms. Ken has never had to share me before with anybody - not like this - unlike my guy who shares willingly. In a strange sort of way, this might actually be harder on Ken than it was on my collared and watching guy, but more on that later too…

Anyway, I feel beard-man hold deep and violently fill his condom before he can do anything further for me, paralyzed as he was by his own orgasm, but he did give me a big O while going down on me, and his rough thrusting did feel quite nice too. I see the "that was wonderful" eyes rolling to the back of his head release on his face, but was it sensory overload for him too; hunting me down and then capturing me with his buddies, and then binding me to the table? I later realized that he probably went down on me first so that he didn't embarrass himself and pop off in like three seconds flat, so while wonderful for me, also self-serving for him too. At this point in my life I've had good oral, and magnificent oral; but never bad oral. Anyway, this for me is multitasking taken to a whole new level, and maybe his watching his buddies joining the fray in group form drove him over the top a bit early.

Beard-man pulls out, and I hear the small kitchen metal garbage can get rattled someplace nearby, the sound of a condom getting removed and its wet filled mass being dropped into the can clearly heard. Black-ink man, having been displaced from nursing on me, takes his place next; I realize later on why they sometimes call this pulling a train. Nobody's holding my legs temporarily and I saw and grind them together reflexively, but I'm not going anywhere either as black-ink man roughly grabs my ankles and stretches me out wide once again. He slowly pushes his thick self into me no-handed, but while also still wearing his shirt. My face and eyes light right up with his manly intrusion, and my sharp intake of air perhaps lets the others know how good this actually feels for me.

Beard-man was nice and comfortable, like the perfect size, where black-ink man has some serious Ken-like girth…

Not taking off his shirt maybe strikes me as impersonal though; I'm naked and stretched out on display, writhing on a tabletop for these guys to use; can't they at least reciprocate? They've only undressed as much as necessary to do the deed, either in haste to get to it, or who knows what. Anyway, it starts to get a bit hectic after that, I being pretty certain that it's black-ink man that changes his hold on both my ankles for a two armed grip on my knee-locked left leg, hugging and using it like a lever to drive me into him, easily at first, but my panting-mewing sounds from around Ken's manhood tell him that this isn't a hardship for me at all. He's using me as little more than a convenient place to dump his seed, an object to use for his pleasure, or so I assume. This isn't so much of "I want to hurt you rough" but more of "I know exactly what to do with a body like yours rough."

Beard-man was almost tender, where this man in comparison is a near brute, demonstrating his sexual prowess for this audience of his watching friends. He's showing off, showing off what he can make me do with that short-ish but girthy cock of his, although to be fair he was rather wonderful with my boobs, they being one of several erogenous zones strategically placed all over my body.

I'm not ashamed to say that this feels really good - although there is like a zero percent chance that he'll bottom out inside me like Ken once did - so much so that I can't concentrate on Ken any longer and he kind of abandons my feeble efforts; if oral was my intention to show him how needed he was here, I'd say it was an unintentional failure. Anyway, black-ink man has me totally dominated, and feeling like I'm trying to crawl off the table and out of my skin, twisting and bending on that nice tabletop as the man left nursing on me is nearly thrown off by my wild bodily gyrations. My sense of time is all jumbled too; has he been at it for thirty seconds, or thirty minutes? I'm gushing, and so on the very edge several times, and it just feels so flippin good too! I eventually realize that he's toying with me, repeatedly taking me to the edge like Ken had done only the day before, but stopping just short and intentionally not finishing the job; hinting at skills that we ourselves just hadn't mastered back in the day. My right leg is still free and flailing around with a mind of its own though, and belatedly I place my heel on his thrusting butt, upping his tempo and drawing him into me, participating to the limited extent that I can.

I'm shamelessly begging now - further participation on my part - I don't remember the actual words, but in my mind I'll do anything on earth for the big orgasm that I crave with every nerve ending I have. This man and his friends have reduced me to a pathetic starving sexual creature though; I'll literally do anything for what I want and need. Ken himself has seen but a taste of this when I eagerly cleaned his fingers of my womanly goo, but these guys in mass are seeing it on display just a bit more fully. My teasing and thrusting lover suddenly feels different inside there now too, but ever so slightly so. I'm pretty sure, despite his near Ken-like proportions, that he had rolled a rubber on too, maybe giving the lie to the "fact" that Ken can't wear them himself. Today they come in all different sizes, textures, and materials, but back then it was pretty much one size fits all… or is that most. They're stretchy and resilient, but the downside to that is they're also texture robbing and constricting; making something slick and smooth that nature didn't intend to be. Too much friction for me is obviously bad, but too little is a bit boring; there's actually a sweet spot combination of texture and size that does it for me like nothing else, and so far bare and natural Ken is the one, but it's not like I've had a hundred lovers with which to compare.

…Maybe black-ink man is finally getting tired at this point, but he is sweating up a pretty good storm, just like I am. It's been a tormentful wild ride for me, but the other three men in the cabin with me have been marginalized, reduced to just watching this extended show of their friend railing into me on and off like a machine. Yes, I know, there is a fourth man outside somewhere also watching, and he's been very marginalized by all this.

Anyway, to finally finish me off, and him too as it turned out, he reaches around my hip with his right hand and thumb, rubbing directly on my button and pretty much all over the top cleft of my bald womanhood that he's stretching and thrusting into. JUST WOW! I'm instantly flowing and trembling like I'm having a seizure - I feel my girl parts crushing and milking his guy parts reflexively as I pull up tight on my wrist chains - maybe not a ‘best ever’, but it's really hard to fairly judge. This is a different game though, it's like comparing fast paced doubles tennis to single play, so it's not fair to use the exact same kind of "scoring" system, the same boundaries on the court either. The "this is somebody new" and long build up all rolled into one I think is what did it for me - certainly not any deep emotional connection - and maybe the girthy size of his man parts together with all this kink and "against my will" feeling that I have going on here. I so want to hold him inside as he's gone "muscles-flexed" rigid on me, holding deep himself, clenched and straining, the look on his face is a vein popping mix of pain and ecstasy; I'll simply never forget it.

I'm still coming, still riding through my own orgasm like distant thunder through a canyon, it's a long drawn out one and a first-ever for me to be doing with a stranger, all while the others watch us perform like a circus act; lots of firsts for me that night, the guys too as it turns out. I've kind of forgotten about them for a bit, but logic tells me that they're still there and watching. I want black-ink man to pop off and orgasm too, he deserves this, but despite my trying to hold him in he overpowers me and pulls out anyway, cumming instead while grinding atop my mound and squirting all the way to the underside of my boobs with squirt after squirt of hot cum.

The energy of his orgasm was intense, when his seed hit the underside of my boobs it almost felt like he had flicked them with his strong fingers. I'm perplexed as I had seen the taunt rolled base of his condom still on his thick cock, but then I realize that he must have ripped the top part of it apart at some point while drilling into me, this perhaps the different thing that I had felt. He somehow knew it though, and he even pulled out so as not to cum directly inside of me, even accidentally, which I appreciate, or more accurately would when I was back to thinking rationally again.

I see the winking eye tip of his enraged bare, squirting cock, only the second bare one to ever enter me so far, and neither one of those had belonged to my future husband either. Anyway, both of us kind of remain in that position, he catching his breath and coming down, and I doing much the same; it again feels like quarters left on the jukebox for the next song though. He's left his mess in place on my heaving belly, as if marking his territory, or perhaps he even has his own aversion to touching cum just like Ken has. My guy is like that himself, if it's his cum and he's the one who just came, but when denied and still charged up for sex, Ken's cum is apparently just fine for him, palatable even, fresh, or even not so fresh.

With an exchanged look and smile I eventually spread my still twitching legs to allow him to remove his ripped-condom deflated cock from my belly, I mouthing a silent "thank you" to him. He slapped it on my belly a few times first, taking extra care not to drip anything near my gaping womanhood; why tempt fate? He struggles and winces a bit getting the destroyed condom off and into the short metal garbage can as I watch, and I'm briefly reminded of my guy struggling to put the open cuff on the base of his guy parts what felt like a lifetime ago. I eventually hear the destroyed used condom drop into the empty can, the sound slightly different than the first though.

Black-ink man then comes up to my head as I watch, kissing me tenderly on my sweaty forehead and thanking me verbally this time, but in my ear for me alone. He says a few other things that are very nice and likely won't ever be repeated, but I've also noticed that he elected not to kiss me on the lips, the same lips that were just wrapped around his good friend's cock just a few minutes earlier. Again, time is funny on this particular night, it is measured in extraordinary new experiences, instead of minutes and hours.

Black-ink man's deposit on my belly and under my chest is cool now and starting to pull at my sensitive skin there, but it's red-ink man that tenderly wipes it from me with my discarded panties, which also end up in the metal trash can. Ken is who knows where at this time, but I'm not afraid or anything, that part of my abduction fantasy-realized is falling just a bit flat, but that isn't to say that this isn't just wild and awesome either.

"May I?" he asks softly, like we're out on a date or something. This man is the one with a live-in girlfriend though, but he's also a dog person, and they're usually pretty good people; this one even saved his pizza crust for his pooch back at home. He had a bit of bravado earlier, but I suspect that's a mask to be worn around his friends more than the real him. Anyway, I had given Ken a look and a smile when the dog pizza crust subject came up earlier, and I half wonder if he isn't feeding some of them to our own pooch and checking on him at that very moment. Ken and my guy also have something in common here suddenly; superfluous spectators of my debauchery! It's a different perspective for Ken, and as I would later discover, not at all to his liking.

My smile and wiggled hips are red-ink man's answer; I'm not very sore yet, and no where near sated either. He then rolls on a condom, his two just serviced buddies off who knows where. His entry was easy, and his "love making" almost gentle; if I closed my eyes I could almost pretend that this was my own guy, other than all the restraint and kink anyway. He has handsome blue eyes to go with his longish blond hair, but very little bodily hair like my own guy too. I think he shaves his arms and chest at least, as well as some rather nice looking grooming down below. I hate to say that he's a pretty boy with all those muscles and ink, but this man is easily the best looking one of the three. He's stripped naked for me - likely because looking as he does he's very body-confident - which I like as he has a very nice muscular body; it's very visually appealing to "have" a man like this, as shallow as that makes me sounds. His face is eventually framed by my feet as we settle into a position that works for both of us, but it's not like I have a lot of choices here. He even turns his head and playfully bites my left foot despite the grass stains; all those looks, and mischievously playful too, wow!

He feels very nice and comfortable in there, as slick as I still am, and he's watching me as we go at it, or more accurately, as he goes at it with me, because I'm kind of passively along for the ride chained as I still am. I think he has my legs together to get a bit of friction for himself, after his two friends had me first, most certainly the girthy black-ink man, who was rough physically, but still a nice man overall.

If this man were my boyfriend I'd be the envy of everybody, and "everybody" would want to steal him away from me too, and likely one of them would be successful at some point. This isn't to say that my own guys' aren't good looking young men, but this man was like a paperback novel's cover art, like well above anything I could snag myself. Now logically you'd think a man that looks like this wouldn't have to work too hard at anything in life, but here he was watching me and looking for clues as to what felt good for me - instead of just using me to get off - learning from me too I suppose. He's also watching my boobs roll on my chest too, guys seem to really like that, but to be fair it feels pretty unique to me as well; waves at the beach maybe.

Time was a bit odd for me that night, but this man has his work cut out for him as I've had two powerful orgasms pretty close together, and each subsequent O gets harder to find with me on an ordinary basis, but with all these guys and this kink that might not even apply here.

I kind of have a feeling that this man in particular has somebody quite nice waiting at home too; just looking at him he'd almost have to. Do I feel guilty borrowing him for a bit? Possibly… He probably doesn't want to be number three anything though, probably isn't used to such things. Anyway, he pulls out of me and says "come on" as if I can hop up on my own and follow him, which I can't do easily. I hold my chained wrists up slightly, until the chains pull tight and rattle, and he snickers at his own accidentally made joke; this one seriously has a sense of humor; can laugh at himself too.

Anyway, he drags me up towards the end of the table by my long cuff chain, with me helping him by scrambling my legs backwards towards what I can't even see at this point. I'm blindly following his lead, but this feels much more like one of my abduction erotic stories; dragged to my proverbial fate. He rolls me off of the end of the table in a spotted tumble, next getting the long chain on my wrists behind my back as I cooperatively step over it for him. It's not exactly strict bondage, and I'm sure he could have worked out something better if he only had the keys, but I have a feeling that they are still in Ken's possession; wherever he is.

Is this Ken keeping something back from these men, maintaining a kind of control on the event?

Beard-man and black-ink man look up from their discussion when they see their buddy "stealing" me away someplace - his condom cover cock bobbing almost comically in front of him and leading the way - but they don't intercede either; they've had their fun, and now it's his turn I suppose. If Ken is still in the cabin he's in the bathroom, but I suspect not. There obviously are bedrooms here too, but I'm not being led in that direction.

"Please, not out back," I beg, when I realize the direction that I'm being led. Now chained up nude in the woods for night-time outdoor sex with this man would hardly be a hardship - except for the mosquitoes - but not if we ran into our new pooch while doing so; I had tempted fate too far already with the direction I had run just a bit earlier. This man is apparently not really listening to me though, and while hot and within my abduction fantasy scenario, I just don't want to go out back.

What if he had gagged me? I wondered, the thought both terrifying, and extremely hot for me, all at the same time.

"So, anything but that; my little Barbie doll captive?" he asks playfully. This man has the full measure of me, and here I initially thought he was just a hot body kind of man. There's apparently quite a bit between his ears besides some nice blue eyes, books and covers come to mind, but again much later on.

"Almost anything," I add a condition, but this is still a mostly positive response from "talking Barbie."

He instead recovers my destroyed dress from near the rear windows, and then proceeds to drag me towards the front ones, but what he has in mind is a mystery. I am facing the rear windows for a tiny bit like this, but I don't necessarily see my guy watching from the shadows. The other two men in the cabin are paying serious attention now though, and both are shirtless now as well, telling me that they think there will be more activity before the night is through for them; or they sweat through their shirts during their "round one" with me. The cabin is getting hot and humid for all of us with all this human physical activity, not to mention the distinct smells of sex; the air outside is dead calm, so no breeze to ventilate it either. Beard-man is even sporting a half-stiffy now, apparently already recharging his manly batteries by watching me being manhandled like this. I'm on such a sexual high that I'm nowhere near done myself, Ken and his rather large self entertaining me solo far more than these three have managed to do so far, but time would tell on the rest of the long night.

I'm walked towards the front of the cabin, and in my mind this is now pretty much outside the practical vision of my guy without his glasses, which I know him to be without. I'm ashamed to say that I really haven't been thinking about him all that much, and this change of location makes that even easier for me. Red-ink man has a definite plan for me though, and as he holds my kicked off heels for me to slip into, while also holding my torn to shreds dress, I have a momentary fear, despite all three men's state of dress; do these guys have the intention of moving this party someplace else in that brand new pickup truck just on the other side of that front door, with or without Ken, or his approval? It's an obvious dark fantasy of mine, but the elements just aren't in the proper place…

Anyway, I'm instead led to the open front window to the right of the picture window centered on the step down covered porch. Red-ink man doubles over and lays my dress down on the window sill, and then struggles to take out the screen one handed, his other hand firmly wrapped in the long chain between my cuffs. I think I have a slight clue where this is going now, but such a thing just never occurred to me before, or apparently to either of my guys; but in all fairness one of my two guys is always pressed for time when we're being intimate with each other. I'd like to fix that somehow going forward, but first things first.

Red-ink man bends me in half - past ninety degrees - at the hips and guides the top half of my body through the low window, face down and knees locked, holding my chained wrists firmly behind me and high. The window was fairly narrow, so once settled in it the only place for my arms was atop my back. It's a delicious form of restraint that I'd never thought up on my own; and that's saying something as I have a pretty wicked imagination in matters of the flesh. He even bumped me to where he exactly wanted me, using his naked hip on my just as naked ass. I'm super vulnerable like this, and half in, and half out of the hot cabin, all at the same time. I'm trapped, and I'm loving it, wishing I had thought up something like this myself. Then the sticky window sash is noisily pulled down, and I'm even more trapped, like almost medieval stocks-like trapped. I can't see what's to happen behind me, but I can surely feel it: a half-hard, condom-covered cock slapped up at my womanhood, after he had bumped my legs apart just a bit further.

He's fully hard in seconds and eases into me, I'm a little less ready with this intermission in the activities, but still WOW! what a difference a position and location change makes. This is maybe a first for him too - window sex - but I seriously admire a creative man, and he gets like a thousand points for this one. Maybe his own girl back home isn't up for this kind of thing, or maybe this is a proof of concept before he tries it out on her even. He's trying to hold my hips and the chain, all at the same time, likely so as not to drive me into the window sill and bruise me up too badly, or make it so I can't breathe. My arms being pulled back like that kind of feels like I imagine the reins of a horse would feel, so hot and sexy all at the same time. I think I'm going someplace pretty wonderful once again, we just have to get into a comfortable rhythm with each other, and I have to get over my somewhat understandable fear of falling head first out of the window and doing a face-plant too.

Red-ink man then dips his body under my wrist chain - or so it feels - using his butt and back to hold tension on my arms, freeing both of his hands for my hips. I know who this was behind me, but without being able to look backwards it could be almost anybody back there, and this as well excites me. This feels really, really good, no doubt due to my bent over position and my heels stretching out my legs, and of course the overall kink too. I'm lost in time for a bit, bouncing like a ragdoll and savoring the feeling, but then I open my eyes to see and feel Ken feeling up my hanging and swinging boobs; well, hanging as much as they did back when I was a teen anyway. I can't read his face - but I am making some rather loud squeaking noises in time with red's thrusting - and I kind of assume Ken had been visiting with our pooch in back, although I'm seriously distracted by what's happening behind me inside the cabin. He then told me quite silently that our pooch had been locked away for the night, as if girlfriend-like concern for him had in some way inhibited my night so far. I later learned that meant that Ken had put him inside the pen and locked the door closed with one of the little locks - locking him in, but also the others out as well - explaining where the keys were earlier. That meant that our new pooch was both safely out of sight, and out of mind too…

One thing leads to another and I end up sucking Ken off hands-free as I bounce in the window sill like a rag doll, all as his friend plows into me from inside the cabin. I'm both inside and out, entertaining two men at the same time, it's extraordinary really; and nobody has to ever know. If I thought Ken possibly wasn't one hundred percent into what this night turned into earlier - despite his offering me up to his friends physically - after he popped off his mood only got darker.

This position leaves red-ink man sawing into that special spot that Ken had found and exploited only the day before, but it was like he was searching for it. When he hit the mark with the proper angle though, just wow! It was like little bolts of lightning from my belly all the way to my toes. Maybe it was this man's skills, or the overall kink, or even my blood-rushed head-down positioning, but that orgasm was pretty wild, red-ink man quite skilled with what might appear to be somewhat average condom covered endowments; but to look at him and that hot body of his has to add something to the equation.

…I end up having "window sex" with all three of the guys at least one more time each, but again it's kind of a blur from there on in. Ken is maybe off doing who knows what again during this extended ordeal - out of my sight radius as I stare out at the dark night - but condoms were used and to the best of my knowledge none of them broke this time either. I eventually feel bare and natural Ken take up position behind me, and having popped off once already just like his three work buddies, he lasts quite a while, like until I get seriously sore and beg him to finish. I ham it up a bit to make this look extra good for his friends, feeling a bit bad overall at how the night went for him…

The guys say their thank yous and go home late that night, and I end up sitting in the bathtub, soaking and washing everything. My girl parts have had a busy night and it shows, but nothing is ruined, just slightly bruised and battered. If I had counted there were likely ten used condoms in that metal garbage can in addition to my destroyed panties; the smell impossibly pungent too. I could imagine the "fun" if the guys had slept over and stayed the whole night, the likelyhood of my guys' discovery going up exponentially with the sunrise though, even inside his dog enclosure. Daylight brings all kinds of potential discoveries though…

I sleep soundly, but in my mind before I crash out even I know that this was just too far, that I had let things go off the rails. It's a strange feeling of accomplishment though, like climbing a mountain maybe; although there is no immediate need for a repeat. They were great guys really, three different personalities, a million miles away from the monolithic Harley biker men of my fantasies, or even the rough boys from Crestmont. Ken sleeps with me in the master bed, but with his back towards me, not spooning like he has done in the past. In the morning he tells me rather directly that he simply can't do something like this ever again, but the way he says this kind of makes me think that he's expecting this to be a regular thing going forward.

I thank him for the experience and give him a big hug - although he hugs back just a bit less enthusiastically - but confirm that this, as far as I was concerned, was a "once and done" for me as well. I maybe don't full-on regret doing it, but I'm pretty close to that seeing how Ken is acting. My guy was perhaps more in awe at what he had seen for himself, but he didn't see the whole deal either. It's very hard to know what's exactly in his head, but to me it's like he shares me already, and this was just sharing some more; although this is perhaps an oversimplification. I don't think he wants to see this again, but he hasn't made any demands or stomped his foot and told me never again either.

Anyway, from there on with us three, things only involved Ken going forward, physically at any rate, this the actual high water mark on my physical insanity, but I had an issue or two as well to deal with; collateral damage one could say.

I had somehow missed two days in a row with my birth control, and there was a minor problem down below that required my guy to drive me to the clinic to deal with. He knew he didn't give me this issue, nor likely did Ken either. Nothing bad, but sufficient to say that letting somebody go down on you can give a nasty bacteriological reaction under certain conditions; a further scare to dissuade me from a repeat, even with healthy men. Having the doctor there examine me and "notice" that I had shaved down there just a few days earlier was a bit embarrassing, as was her asking if anybody "new" had kissed me there recently, which I had confirmed that they did. Don't lie to your doctor, it doesn't turn out well…

Food for thought though, it was my guy that took me there and waited in the waiting room for me, told me that it would all be okay, even though we didn't know exactly what was wrong at the time…

Did he get off watching the guys get rough with me? Likely so, but for him as well I don't think he wanted a repeat either. No stern words or threats or anything, but with a more clear head after the fact I felt that this was disrespectful to that young man who had given me so much. Maybe, in a way, my guy and I both climbed the same proverbial mountain, and neither one of us felt the need for a repeat.

A wild adventure to be sure, but not some of my finer moments either. As for Ken, it took a bit, and a trip out on his uncle's boat to really square things up between us. His work friends asked about me now and then, and I have a feeling that his sharing didn't exactly harm his standing with his workmates either…


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