Valentine's Day

I host my third annual Valentine's Day party.

"So, then, I should send, what? Just a letter, or . . ." Deborah breaks off, momentarily distracted from our conversation by,

"Oh, oh, oh" the playful, gently taunting chants of the four women in the far corner of the sunroom across from us.

I pause with her to turn our full attention back to the proceedings we've been intermittently focused on just across the way where a naked young male kneels on a large, padded dressing bench that doubles as an ottoman for the nearby settee. He leans back on two straight arms, knees splayed wide, as he bucks his hips to thrust his erection through the curled hand of my neighbor Mariam. Mariam stands to one side, leaning in to offer her hand. She's careful not to obstruct the view of the three other women who lounge in the cozy corner sitting area on the cushioned wicker chair and settee.

The women chant playfully in time with his thrusting. Mariam lets him do most of the work, masturbating himself by fucking her hand, his young, clean shaven balls jouncing in the sack with each upward buck of his hips.

"There it is." I say softly to Deborah.

"Hmm?" Deborah queries absently as the women continue their chanting, getting progressively more melodramatic, "Oh, Oh! OH! OHh!" in teasing parody of the mounting urgency of his thrusts as he climbs towards ejaculation.

"Ah, the balls, you mean, yes." Deborah says recalling my earlier comments about this particular male's endowments.
It's one of the pleasures of the sport to compare notes and observations on the various physical attributes and performance qualities of the males who put themselves forward for service. It enhances the sense of shared entitlement and feminine camaraderie, creating a secondary layering of objectification and superiority that enriches the purely voyeuristic enjoyment they offer. I would suppose it's not unlike the added pleasure and enjoyment coinsures of fine wines get from discussing and sharing knowing commentary on the characteristics of various vintages. The wine, of course, must still be pleasing to the palette, as this young male's display is to the eye. But the discernment and verbalization of quality, detail and nuance, enlivens and enriches the sensory experience.

In that spirit, I had commented favorably on the pleasing, to me, articulation and jounce of this one's balls in the sack as we watch earlier rounds of his teasing by the group, even as he neared the point of ejaculation.
To be continued

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