                         THE BEDPOST
                     by Michael K. Smith


     As the slender, naked girl flung her arms about his neck and ground her pelvis
against his, the big man leaned her back against the lathe-turned wooden spindle rising
from the front corner of the bed. He nipped her lightly where her throat curved into her
shoulder and she gasped and squirmed, and freed one hand long enough to urge his thick,
stiffening cock between her youthful thighs. She was only partly successful because of
their difference in height, but she managed to rub the shaft of his organ against the
opening of her cunt.
     He took a deep breath, squeezed the globes of her smooth, athletic ass in his large
hands, and raised her into the air. She squealed and then moaned with mounting lust and
lifted her legs around his waist. She expected him to impale her on his engorged penis
and she tensed, waiting for him to enter her -- God, his cock was so huge! She'd never
done it like this before. But instead she continued to rise until her widespread crotch was
leaving damp marks on his breastbone.
     He inhaled one of her small breasts and she felt the rigid nipple react even more
vigorously to the suction. She groaned again and without being quite sure how she'd
managed it, she found her knees draped over his wide shoulders. She was bent double,
kneecaps pressed against her collarbone, and she felt incredibly sexy. She knew her pussy
was gaping wide open now, and she writhed a little, rubbing her parted labia against his
chest.
     His hands slid up to lock behind the small of her back. He squeezed and smiled as
the pressure forced her to exhale. Her bent elbows were trapped within the circle of his
muscular arms and she liked the helplessness she now felt -- which was how she was sure
he wanted her to feel. In fact, she loved this whole feeling of vulnerability, and she
shivered and prodded the front of his throat with her tongue.
     He leaned her backward again, only an inch or two, and she felt the tip of the
wooden bedpost spindle tickle the very base of her tailbone. She fantasized that it was his
cock, grown two feet longer and hard as the oak; she shivered again, the moist backs of
her thighs trembling against his chest.
     He knew exactly where the spindle's narrow tip was and he held her body tightly
immobile as he lowered her onto it, inch by fraction of an inch. When she felt the
polished surface slide against her clit as it slowly invaded her vagina, she stopped
squirming and froze. Please, God, he didn't lose his grip on her body now!
     The blunt wooden spike was less than two inches high; below it was a flared
section shaped like a small doughnut skewered on a stake. Then a small gap, then another
flared section -- a series of four in all. Below that was a tall, fluted column that flared out
at its base to join the bed's footboard. The narrow upper section of the spindle never
exceeded two inches in diameter and she trembled uncontrollably as the first two wooden
bulges pushed into her cunt. She'd masturbated with bananas and candles, but no object
so long and thick had ever before penetrated her.
     The erotic mental images produced by her doubled-up position against his hard,
muscular body, combined with the rigid foreign presence in her pussy, and the knowledge
that she had no control over any of it, were nearly overwhelming. She felt completely
helpless and extremely sexy and this man was responsible for it. She was nervous but she
sure didn't want him to stop!
     The tip of the spindle pushed firmly against her cervix and the upper three bulges
completely filled her. She pressed her forehead against her knee and whimpered a little.
But he seemed to know exactly how much of the bedpost would fit inside her. Without
even breathing hard, he lifted her slowly until the tip of the spindle was again hovering
just at the entrance to her cunt. Then he lowered her again, more rapidly this time, and
lifted her again. He did this several more times and the friction of the dark, varnished
wood against her heated clit was remarkable. Now her whole body was trembling and she
knew her face was flushed with arousal. Her breath came rapidly and she felt herself
teetering on the brink of one of the strangest orgasms of her young life.
     That realization -- that she was about to be brought to climax by a bedpost -- was
enough to tip her over the edge. Her pelvis shuddered with hot little spasms and she knew
the man holding her so tightly was aware of the sudden increased wetness from her
splayed cunt oozing down his abdomen. He chuckled deep in his throat and arched
forward so the head of his quivering penis prodded her sweating buttocks, the bedpost
hovering just below.
     Now he'll fuck me himself, she thought, but he surprised her by straightening and
raising her vertically once more. Not the damn bedpost again, she hoped. It had been
exciting and kind of bent, and certainly very different -- as was her continued posture,
with her knees slung over the man's shoulders and her slender calves bouncing against his
upper back. Her arms were still pinned by his but she had managed to work them around
to the front far enough to brace the palms of her hands against his upper ribs. The other
receptionists were never going to believe her next Monday morning when she related her
adventure to them in the ladies' room!
     He lifted her higher than before and she wondered a bit nervously what he had in
mind this time. Maybe it would be something else just a bit perverted, that she could
relive in her memories when she masturbated in bed. Maybe she'd really like it; there
were so many sexual things she'd heard about and hadn't yet tried. Her private questions
were answered when the blunt wooden spike, still shiny with her vaginal juices, pushed
its way through her unsuspecting sphincter.
     She went rigid at the invasion -- she'd never even slid her finger up her asshole,
though she knew girls who said they had. There was no pain yet; her ass was spread so
wide by her posture, it would have been a difficult target to miss. I've read about anal sex,
she thought wildly. He'll stop after an inch or two and lift me off again. He's just teasing
-- just playing. And he did lift her off again, but only to lower her with more force.
     With a liberal application of Crisco, the first doughnut-shaped section of the
spindle might have popped through the muscular brown ring of her anus more easily. Or
perhaps previous ass-fucking experience would have taught her to relax. But she was
young and slender, with a tight, virgin ass, and the wooden bulge was just a little larger
than she could accommodate easily. When the rigid knot tried to force its way in, she
gasped in pain and began to whimper again and to struggle.
     The man paused and squeezed her doubled-up body so tightly she feared her spine
or her thigh might snap. He hadn't spoken since he stripped them both naked, but now he
murmured in a hoarse, low voice, "If you don't hold still and keep quiet, I might turn you
the other way around and stick that thing down your throat instead of up your ass." She
began to feel real fear.
     Up she went again and she squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as she
came down. This time, the hard bulge stretched her anus as wide as it could go without
tearing and the post popped into her moist rectum. The momentary blaze of fiery pain in
the vicinity of her asshole brought her to tears and made her bite her tongue. He kept up
the pressure, forcing her downward so that a second and then a third wooden bulge
entered her. She was in an agony of pain and humiliation and was becoming increasingly
fearful of the outcome of this quasi-rape. Finally, he relaxed his hold on her -- though not
his confining grip -- and she felt the last thick bulge force its way into her by her own
weight.
     She was impaled on eight inches of hard, rigid wood and she was afraid to move
for fear of puncturing something. The initial pain had subsided to a throbbing ache and
she suddenly realized there was nothing remaining of the bedpost but two feet of vertical
column. If he released her *now*...!
     He shifted his grip so she could move her arms. "Better wrap your arms around
your knees," he muttered. "Tightly. And keep your legs pointed straight up."
     Frantically, she did as she was told and tried to put out of her mind the presence of
the wooden shaft thrust into her. She was still bent double, but the man's grip slowly
shifted upward, from the small of her back to her thighs -- his big hands encircled them --
to her upper calves. She felt her body trying to unbend; only her convulsive clutching of
her own legs and the warning sideways pressure within her rectum kept her torso stiffly
vertical. Another moment and the only force holding her off the bedpost was his hands
raised above his own head, locked rock-steady around her ankles.
     She was weeping openly now and pleading with him not to drop her, please,
*please*, lift her up again, rescue her from her impalement, she would never tell anyone,
please! She couldn't make out his face through her tears but she knew he was smiling in
anticipation as she felt the viselike grip of his fingers begin slowly to loosen.


                             END


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Copyright 1998 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere for
personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.
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