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about a woman being in charge of a man through his genitals.  Anybody
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including this disclaimer.  Hope you enjoy.

It’s Probably In The Genes…
By Hector’s Pup

Did I ever describe Amanda?  When I married her I thought she was a
goddess.  She had yellow blond hair and a clear Scandinavian
complexion with a natural rosy glow in her cheeks.  I used to think it
was almost a crime for her to use makeup but a little darkening of her
eyelashes and a little reddening from lipstick on her lips and she
could have the world at her doorstep.  At 5’ 7", she was neither tall
nor short.  She was a well toned package, strong but not overly
developed or rippling in any areas.   And, those breasts, wow, she was
a natural 36D, a 25-27" waist, and 35" hips.

Because her mother, Monika, could almost pass as her older sister, I
could see twenty-five years into the future to preview what Amanda
would look like as she got older, and I sure liked what I saw.  Monika
was a remarkable lady for having delivered and raised three girls and
a boy.  Amanda was the youngest and the four kids were about eighteen
months apart on average, except Amanda, who came three years after her
brother Jon, the next youngest.  Monika must have told her husband
Carl "No more." after having four so close together.

Monika was a talented artist by trade.   By all appearances, people
saw her as a sweet lady, a little ditsy, maybe a la Maude of "Harold
and Maude", only thirty years younger.  Pictures of her as a girl and
younger woman, showed how much she looked like Amanda, well at least
as beautiful as Amanda.  She was naturally flirtatious, I think, as a
way of dealing with all of the attention her physical beauty brought
upon her.  But, what ever one might say about her, she did stay
married to Amanda’s father for thirty-three years until his death when
Monika was fifty-one.  Now that I am divorced from Amanda, I am able
to put pieces together to better understand Amanda and her unusual
family, and how much she and her mother were alike.

As far as Monika is concerned, I can now weave a thread through some
isolated instances that go a long way to explain my unusual
relationship with Amanda.  Like the time I came over to Amanda’s house
to go jogging with her on a warm summer morning.  Monika was outside
watering a garden spot on the side of their house.  I stopped to make
polite conversation with her, as I was courting her daughter.  Her
neighbor made a friendly pass at her as he was getting into his car to
leave.  As Monika turned to respond to him she directed the column of
water from the hose directly onto my crotch.  When she saw what she
had done, she laughed before apologizing and didn’t instantly turn the
water away.  The water was cold and hit my crotch with some force
which had me bending at the waist.  When Monika put the hose down and
turned off the water she came up to me and used the small towel draped
over her shoulder, she used to mop her brow, to pat me down in front.
This was a not to gentle process and I pleaded with her to not be so
helpful.

Monika insisted that I come in and give her my shirt, shorts and socks
so she could run them quickly through the dryer, since Amanda wasn’t
down yet anyway.  She gave me a towel to wear and coaxed me to sit in
the kitchen to keep her company while she put dishes and things away.
I sipped on an orange juice as I watched her move around her domain.
She unbuttoned her sleeveless summer shirt complaining that the
kitchen was heating up in the morning sun.  She had on a bikini top
which amounted to two triangular patches that exposed the sides of her
full breasts.  She acted like she didn’t notice my glances at the
glimpses she was giving me of her breasts or her leg, which would
become exposed when her wrap-around skirt, made of a scarf-like
material, would part as she squatted or bent.  Eventually, she took
off the shirt all together and asked me how I was recovering, as she
stared at the swelling under the towel with pride.  Then Amanda came
through the door with my clothes in her hand tossing them to me
saying, "Come on, let’s go before the sun makes it too hot to run."  I
think she and her mom exchanged looks as I walked passed her a little
bent to hide my reaction to her mom’s teasing.

Then there was the time, while Amanda and I were engaged, where we
went out with Carl and Monika to a popular movie that we had to stand
in line for.  Carl was in front to pay for all of us and I was between
the ladies with Amanda behind me.  Monika was standing with her right
hand resting comfortably in the palm of her left hand in back of her.
Amanda was growing frustrated with people walking through the line
between her and I so when a group of guys wanted through, she stepped
forward putting her hands on my shoulder and sort of hugged my back.
This felt good until she lurched forward at the hip as if one of the
guys had pinched her butt.  This pushed my groin into Monika’s hand
and instead of just bouncing back from it she gave my groin a
momentary squeeze.  As I lurched back into Amanda, she turned me
around and gave me a passionate kiss on the lips and I just let the
whole incident pass.

One Thanksgiving, after we were married, Amanda’s oldest sister, Kara,
hosted the meal.  I was sitting across from Amanda, and Carl, opposite
me, was across from Monika to my left.  Carl started to grow a little
uneasy it seemed to me, and then I felt Amanda’s stockinged foot
flicking my balls and cock around in my loose fitting slacks with a
challenging grin on her face.  I was torn between getting her to stop
and having her continue.  At one point, the pleasure became painful
and I lurched my chair back a bit.  So not to draw attention to
myself, I reached under the table as if to retrieve my napkin.  As I
came back up, my hand glanced Monika’s leg which was extended in the
direction of Carl.  I must have turned every shade of red as Monika
smiled at me and patted my upper thigh.  Amanda tilted her foot in the
direction of her mother’s hand and touched it with a toe.  Monika
looked at her daughter smiled and winked.

After we were married, Amanda accepted for me to sit for her mother's
figure drawing class.  She assured me that it was professional, that
people did it all the time, in fact her father did it when he was
younger, and that was how her parents met.  What Amanda wanted, Amanda
usually got.  Amanda and I kept our bodies in good shape, and that is
what the class would appreciate.  Without Amanda's insistence,
however, I would never have given this a moment's consideration.

So, 10:00 Saturday morning I appeared at Monika's studio.  What do you
wear to a "disrobing" anyway?  I chose Speedo swim trunks, tank top
shirt under a short sleeve shirt, shorts and sandals.  When I arrived,
Monika was demonstrating to a class of all women, about twelve strong,
six with easels and six with lap-boards or sketch pads, ranging from
college age to early forties.  When she saw me appear at the door, she
said, "Oh class, this is my son-in-law.  He has agreed to help us with
figure drawing this morning, please make him feel welcomed."

With this the class turned around and looked me up and down like a
horse at auction.  Some smiled, some looked on unemotionally, and some
looked to be a touch embarrassed.  I don't know what they had to be
embarrassed about, I was the one going down to my skivvies. 

Monika extended her arms to me to direct me to a dressing screen off
to the side of a raised platform.  "We'll have you come out when you
are ready and take your place here." she said pointing to piece of old
fashion furniture, the size of a love seat with only one armrest at
one end, and went back to talking to the class.

When I appeared, I had taken everything off except my Speedos and my
tank top.  "Oh Honey,"  she exclaimed, "we can't draw your muscle
definition with this on." And with that said, she pulled the top off
over my head.  My  embarrassment went up several notches, being
unceremoniously disrobed by my mother-in-law in front of this room
full of clothed women, with eyes glued to every part of my body and
movement that I made.  "Let's have you sit here like this for
starters."  She positioned me seated with my arms wrapped around my
knees in a knee-chest fetal type position, my chin resting on my
knees.  What a relief this was, because my jock strap and Speedo
Trunks left little to the imagination.

Monika was giving instruction to the class on how to do quick captures
or something and the class started furiously sketching for a few
minutes.  I didn't pay much attention, because I knew I would be
required to remain  motionless.  I let my mind drift off into random
thoughts, when my reverie was shaken by Monika's hand on my arm as she
started to unwind me into another position.  

This time she had me stretch my legs out straight and point my toes,
feet together leaning forward, hands on my shins at my ankles.  In
this, as with the other pose, I didn't have to look at any faces going
over my features, as I  stared off at a cleanup area to the side.
Lost in my thoughts again, this wasn't so bad after I got used to the
idea.  Except for being introduced as related to Monika, it was a
relatively impersonal task until...

Monika came over to rearrange me again having me lean on one arm, legs
bent, the back leg knee up, the front leg knee pointing at the group
and the arm in back resting on the knee at the forearm, hand hanging
down.   I was to look back over at the dressing curtain.  In this
pose, my groin was on full display.  I steeled myself to the task as
Monika slowly walked backwards examining the pose.  Suddenly she
stopped, and started coming back towards me saying, "Let's lose these,
shall we?"  With that, she reached her hands in the back of the
Speedos and quickly pulled them off before I could mount any protest.
She deftly put me back in place turning my head away from the group to
the side as before.  If the art students were painting true to color,
they would have to get out the reds at this point, because all that
protected my modesty from my mother-in-law and a room full of
strangers was my jock strap.

How do you act professional at this point.  Wait a second, I wasn't a
professional, nor did I aspire to be one.  My heart was beating
heavily now and my breathing was much deeper.  Heck my chest was
giving the sketchers a "moving" target.  Just when I got used to my
circumstance enough to have normal breathing and a heart free from
attack, Monika approached me again. She had been walking around
looking at each of the student's efforts. Now  she grabbed my
jockstrap and pulled it off saying, "Why don't we give them a greater
challenge, OK?" 

"Monika, why don't you let me answer your questions before you proceed
on your own." was all I had time to think at this point.  Boy that
lady could be quick and decisive.

So there I was on complete display in one of the most humiliating
experiences of my life at the hands of my mother-in-law and my wife as
accomplice.  That morning didn't get much better from there.  I was
posed this way and that, but all in ways that displayed my manhood to
the sketchers.  At one point I  actually thought about what they were
doing, drawing my cock and balls with their hands.  This was a mistake
as the connection of my genitals to their hands caused me to get an
erection that wouldn't quit.  It was in a pose with me facing the
group leaning back on the couch, my feet on the floor six inches apart
and my knees tilting out to the sides.  What created a little stir of
whispering and shifting in chairs was that my head was tilted straight
back looking at the ceiling cradled in my interlocked fingers.  So my
cock twitched itself hard without my even touching it as if, from
their perspective, it had a mind of its own. 

Monika chimed in, "Quickly girls!  New pages. This might not last
long." 

Little did she know, that my awareness of the dilemma, the classes
continued reaction to it, and the new intensity she was generating,
made my cock twitch and twitch and twitch until a precum appeared.
Then, moments later, my world imploded in an orgasm that shot up and
hit me in the face on down my chest.  

How I could cum like that without even being touched, I'll never know.
The humiliation crescendoed when some of the ladies trying to hold
back laughter, lost all semblance of professional cool and burst out
laughing to the point of tears. "Ladies, Ladies!" Monika implored, "I
think we have had enough excitement for the day.  You may all be
dismissed.  See you next Saturday." 

As the ladies packed up their things, they kept looking over at me
hyperventilating, going into shock, as Monika came over with a soft
towel to wipe me off from head to cock.  One thirtyish woman came up
to me as my breathing started to calm down and handed me a card with a
phone number on it telling me that, if I was interested in doing any
more posing, to please give her a call. Then she turned to leave.  I
was in too much shock to reach up for the card, so Monika accepted it
for me with a wry smile.

Well, there was this other time, well into our marriage but still
before her father died. It probably doesn’t count, however, because it
was a fix I got my self in.  I saw Amanda bending forward drying her
hair in front of the standing mirror in our room.  The robe she was
wearing was open in front and pulled apart by her arms that were
holding the dryer and tussling her hair.  Her legs were apart for
balance, or to let her pubic hair dry out.  I was taken by the moment
and I had just come in from working in the yard.  I slipped off my
shorts and snuck up behind her.  In one smooth motion, I lifted up her
robe and slid my erection forward along her pussy and reached around,
grabbed her breasts and hugged her back.  Off went the dryer, and
still bent, she reached up between her legs and grabbed my balls with
one hand and the underside of my erection with her other.  I was in
the process of kneading her breasts and sawing my cock against her
clit, when I heard Amanda’s voice at the door, "Mother, do you need
anything el….What are you two doing?" she said, looking at us in
amused horror.

Instantly my hands went straight out to the sides but my balls and
cock were now in a locked grip.  I turned my head and looked at Amanda
saying "Wha…wha…Oh…My…Goddddd!"

"Oh I’m all right Honey.  I just got this rapist here by the balls."
Monika said in jest.

"I can take over from here mom."  Amanda said, as she took over her
mother’s grasp of my balls and pulled me backwards till I was sitting
on the edge of the bed stunned like a deer in sudden headlights.
Monika straightened up and turned around before she bothered to wrap
Amanda’s robe around herself, giving me a glimpse of the finest body
on a forty-six year old you could imagine.   "How could you do this to
my mother, you pig?  What do you have to say for yourself.  What do
you have to say to her?" Squeeze!

As I broke from my grimace, I attempted to say, "But… but… I thoug…
though….I thought it was you darling.  Monika, please forgive me.  You
know I wouldn’t have done such a thing if I had known it was you.
What are you doing here, …in Amanda’s robe…in our bedroom?"

"Oh we have had a major water main problem on our block for a couple
of days and I came by to do some laundry and freshen up.  Didn’t you
see me come in?  And what was that crack about not finding your
mother-in-law sexy enough to want to do her?"

"No. No. I find you very sexy."  Amanda squeezed.  "No. No. I mean you
are very attractive like Amanda.  In fact I thought you were Amanda." 

"So you think of me as someone in her forties?" Amanda challenged.  I
wasn’t going to win this one so I decided to keep my mouth shut and
take what was coming to me.  "I’ll deal with you later, Mister.  Now
why don’t you bring in the things from the back of the car while I
help my mother deal with the ordeal you put her through."  She let go,
I bent to pick up my shorts, and she held out her hand, "Why don’t I
hang on to those for a while?"  I knew what she meant and left the
room only to hear the two of them burst out in laughter despite their
efforts to stifle it.

Carl died a couple of years before the end of our marriage.  Amanda
was twenty-six and took it pretty hard.  Carl was a proud, happy man,
who worshipped Monika.  She was beautiful, bright, and adventuresome,
what was not to like.  He was twelve years her senior like I was ten
years Amanda’s senior.  He and I must have been a lot alike, as I grew
to piece together later.  He had a business bankruptcy a year before
he died and left Monika hurting more than emotionally with his
passing.

Monika persevered, however, but grew to rely on me more and more to
help her with things.  Amanda grew to treat me more as property than
the man she loved and encouraged me to be at my mother-in-laws beck
and call.  It was in these last couple of years that I learned the
pattern to work the threads of understanding through.

At Monika’s house, she always needed things moved, fixed, hung,
re-hung, and so forth.  Like Amanda, she would ask me to wear, or not
wear, certain clothes when I helped her out.  She would explain that
if it was good enough for my house then it should be good enough at
hers, besides, she would explain that it wasn’t anything she hadn’t
seen before.

Monika would fish for compliments and would dress provocatively to get
reactions from me for her own reassurance.  One night, she asked me to
sit next to her on the couch, and proceeded to talk about how she
missed Carl.  As she broke into tears, I put my arm around her
shoulders and guided her head to mine.  She put her hand on my
genitals and said, "Would it be okay with you if I held these for a
little bit?  Carl used to always let me hold on to and play with his."


It took some courage, but I stopped my hand that was going to the
rescue of my male anatomy and decided to let it ride.  If I were to
close my eyes, it would have been easy to imagine it was Amanda in our
earlier years fondly caressing my equipment.  It was really too weird
to keep my eyes open for this so I closed them with the thought that I
was doing a magnanimous thing for my mother-in-law.  I could get lost
in the exquisite sensations when all I heard was sniffling and sobs
but every time she would talk about Carl, I would be snapped back into
the role of a martyr.  If I was going to get past that and enjoy this,
I was going to have to figure out a way to keep her from obsessing
while she stimulated my erection and balls. 

"So Monika, what would Carl do for you while you did this wonderful
thing for him?" I asked with some trepidation.

"Oh, he would try to discover ways to make me squeal."

"What were your some of your favorite things that he would do that
would make you squeal?"

"Oh, when the kids were grown, we would play games."

"Like what sort of games?"

"Oh we might start out with me as a farmer’s daughter and Carl as a
farmhand who would capture me at night and tie me up in the barn with
my hands over my head and he would tickle me with feathers and things
everywhere until I was near exhaustion."

"Then what would you do?"

"Then I would be a Nazi nurse in a prison camp where we would test the
limits of unwilling prisoners to the sexual powers of women."

I gulped audibly.  "How did you do this?"

"See that eyelet screwed into the beam over there with the plant?"

It sure was overkill for that hanging plant, come to think of it.
We’d tied each other up there to that cleat on the wall behind the
curtain."

I got up, my curiosity overcoming me, and walked over to the window.
Monika watched me discover their secret with bobbing cock.  She sat
with her elbow on top of the couch, head on fist and one leg bent on
the place where I was sitting.  "How did you get the rope up there?" A
lame question, but a telegraph of where I was going with this.

"That ladder at the foot of the stairs in the basement would always do
the trick."

"And the rope?"

"Should be close to it I imagine."

"Mind if I see for myself?"

"Wouldn’t care to stop you I figure." She said with an air of
confidence, but showed the frightened anticipation of a virgin
anticipating her first night with her expression.

Sure enough, there was a six foot step ladder against the wall and a
box with rope and other goodies under the stairs.  It was a battle,
but I managed both in one trip back to the living room.

"I would think Carl would set up the ladder here."  

"Ah..ha"

"He would have to take the plant down from here like this."

"Ah..ha"

"Then the rope must have gone through the eyelet this way, so these
cuffs would hang down and the other end of the rope would reach the
cleat here."

"My you’re smart, on top of being good looking."

"Would you struggle when he led you to the cuffs?"

"Sometimes, but he was a big strong farmhand and I would figure that
it would go worse for me if I struggled too much."  As she came to put
her hand in mine.  "But first he would make me take off all my
clothes, because he would have to ruin them if he did it after I was
cuffed up."

"Could you show me how you did that, please?"

"Since you asked so nice.  He would actually like it if I sort of
danced and took my time doing it.  He would lie down on his side right
there in front of me with a pillow, like that one, pretending he was
on some soft hay.  I would imagine some nice music and move something
like this and watch his reaction to make sure he was continually
pleased, so he would go easy on me."

"I bet he was pleased.  You look fantastic right now."

"Oh, thank you dear.  But he acted a little harder to please than you
are right now."

"Forgive me.  Please go on.  I’ll be quiet now."

"It’s okay, your way can be fun too.  But, about now I would start to
unbutton my shirt like this.  It was better when I took my time
between buttons.  He seemed to like it better if I were to draw it
out.  Usually, I wouldn’t have this bra on.  I would leave this
sleeveless shirt on with one middle button holding it together until I
removed my skirt or pants.  For now, I could leave the bra on until
the end instead like this.  Would this please you?  Just nod.  Now
down to my bra and panties like this I would plead with him not to
make me remove them.  But he would insist so I would remove one…and
then the other like this.  He would get up and take my hands away from
my breasts and pubes and hold them to my sides as he’d walk me to the
hanging cuffs.  That’s right, just like this.  I would think about
resisting having my hands ensnared and arms hoisted over my head, but
would back down and let him proceed."

I hoisted her up to her tiptoes, took several deep breaths to keep
from passing out with excitement and admired her perfectly shaped
body.  If she weren’t my wife’s mother, I could have just as easily
fallen for her under different circumstances.

She really seemed to need this right now and Amanda had taught me for
years to delay my own gratification until she was completely satiated
with hers.   Besides, regardless of my relationship to her, there was
something exquisitely erotic about a woman as beautiful as Monika
being as vulnerable as she was right now.   

"Well, you know this doesn’t seem exactly right.  You see that handle
across the top of that wooden box?  It slides out and fits into
notches aside those lined cuffs there.  If you wanted, you could make
my legs be forced wide apart and I wouldn’t be able to close them, no
matter what you had in mind for me.  Unless that rope stretches a
little more, I think you’ll find you’ll need to let me down a bit to
attach it.  That’s it.  On his way up, Carl might see fit to both
smell and blow his breath between my legs.  Yessss…like that!
(Breath) (Breath)  Before looking me intensely in my eyes he might be
found to brush my nipples with the back of his hairy hands…Oooo…yesss.
(breath) (breath) You might walk around me slowly, like he would, and
see if you like what you see.  If you like it, you might choose to
unwrap what is in that cloth in the box and see if anything suits you
tonight.  What ever you choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to take it.
No! No! Please not that! I can’t bear it. No! No! Pleasssse!"

It was like a dream.  I had Monika squealing for over an hour.  When
it was obvious that she had no more energy to go on, I let her down,
wrapped a blanket around her and led her over to the couch, her head
on my shoulder, my arms around her, slowly rocking back and forth.
Her hand slipped out of the blanket and slowly reached and cupped my
genitals, just gently holding them, no motion, and we were basically
back where we started, except, Monika was now asleep in my arms.  I
sat there motionless for a while with Monika now sleeping on my lap, a
hand still on my groin, imagining the interesting life she must have
had with Carl.  What would it take for Amanda and I to have this kind
of relationship?  That would be a premature thought, as it turns out.
I’ll try to tell you the rest of the story soon.