I would like to believe that I would have cried for the assistance of Hazel’s mother in helping me to avoid a somewhat conflicting episode regarding my genitals. In the eyes of the lord I was given to my lovely (if not somewhat dull) wife, and could not bear the guilt of this utterly arousing episode.
But the fine mother’s hands were deep inside my mouth and I could make neither consonant nor vowel; and so Hazel ran riot as she pleased. She appeared to be spurred on by the mound pointing west and did her duty to release it, undoing my three layers.
My mind was torn between the above and the below. The zinging sensation pulling at my gums and the naughty little house girl pulling at my phallus. She had taken it in her hand and was very much intent on making a quick effort as she began firing away with in a loose fist with great haste.
“Ah yes, I see this is quite the nasty tooth…” came back Mother, “it was good that you came today, now by my reckoning I can pull this out without too much trouble, deep breath.”
And with that the two women set to their task. Hazel, hiding behind the buttocks of Mother, rubbing me with terrible exaltation and Mother wrenching with all her might at my molar. My eyes, watering both in pain and emotion. The symphony building in my mind, void of words or clear thoughts, just swaying between acute pain and a lust for release.
It was a birthing canal. A pathway to the divine god himself. My muscles tensing to the overwhelming stimulus and my dry breath, panting through my open mouth.
It was Mother that pulled the first noise from me. I gave out a guttural noise of some natural horn as the pain passed a threshold I did not realize existed. Hazel, taking this as her cue, pulled up the front of her dress and sat herself upon my hardness, fully penetrating herself in her almighty wetness.
For this was the moment I cried out with such release I am sure I popped open the buttons on my shirt. The sight of this wanting mistress sat upon me caused me a heavy explosion deep within her, semen firing with an apocalyptic intensity. Mother, with one final tug getting the final tips of the molar to release.
For a moment, the world went silent. I am sure I was bound to heaven and left to fall sharply to the ground. Only the taste of metal in my mouth and wetness between my legs kept me in the land of the conscious.
On coming round, I saw an attentive Hazel, dabbing my mouth with a rag which smelled heavily of oil. She seemed to have acquired a patchy flush on her pale cheeks. I could only assume that she had not only achieved what she had wished from me, but did so with such professionalism that Mother was clearly none the wiser.
In fact, Mother had all but left by this point. It was once again down to Hazel to complete the task. Unfastening the now sweat coated buckles that chained my every limb extension. Helping me to my feet and ensuring that I gave a handsome sum for the task, quite literally, at hand.
And so I stumbled home, the front of my trousers thoroughly soiled, the collar of my shirt pink with blood and saliva. It had been the kind of day that one could only wish for in fanciful novels. I never saw either of the two women again. Partly by chance and partly from not wanting to know if Hazel had in fact achieved her goal of stealing my seed for her own offspring and freedom.