This was, indeed, an advanced exercise.

He tried to coordinate his thrusts, but the mouth-piece went astray while the anus-entry jammed. He pulled back, and both mouth and vagina disconnected. The anus clung to its member, compressing the glans. That one was about ready to fire. But would it be good form to spurt in one place and not the other two? Was it, in fact, possible? They all connected to the same fundament, after all.

Prior was sweating.

If the medieval devils had come naturally equipped—assuming that an unnatural creature could be said to have natural endowments—with such tripart penises, they must have had a hell of a time fornicating! Maybe that was what it meant to be damned!

He thought he heard Oubliette chuckling.

Damn it, he was not going to fail this test! She thought he couldn't do it, that he wasn't man enough to handle a super-phallus like this. Once a four-incher, always a four-incher, she thought. Well, he would prove that he was a two-footer!

He juggled the swinging mouthpiece into place again. He angled the six-inch, thick-bodied member back into her slippery vagina. He plunged the third, thin cock all the way into her rectum. "Fuck you!" he cried.

"Fuck me!" she echoed, still amused.

Why was she so light-hearted about it? After all, she was concerned too; she was the one getting the business end. She acted as though she were only a spectator.

Spectator....

Maybe that was his mistake! He had been concentrating on his own management, forgetting that sex was a two-person action. He couldn't have a climax without taking her with him; that would be just half a copulation. There had to be interaction; she had to come too.

He found that with the proper contortions he could leave the anal penetrator anchored while he slid the other slowly in and out of her vulva and held the two-footer in place except for some sidewise vibration. This served to equalize the stimulation, letting the sphincter-bound member cool off while the others heated. He was getting the hang of it.

He commenced a balanced offensive on three fronts: (1) Into her mouth, where her tongue lapped around the slender instrument, sending two-foot waves of pleasure back to his loin and, he trusted, into her throat as well; (2) Into her anus, where the tight sphincter muscle contrasted to the roomy interior, stirring up her bowel in what ought to be a provocative manner; (3) Into her luscious vagina, haven of deep delight, rubbing at the sensitive cervix to make her respond.

He no longer needed his hands for support. He reached around her midriff on either side and caught her breasts, massaging the nipples until they sprang out vigorously. He pressed them together around the shaft of the long member, squeezing it evenly. It was impressive for him, feeling his thrust through enveloping mammaries, but for her too, for breasts were made to be caressed.

Oubliette was breathing hard now, responding to the triple onslaught. She caught the long penis gently with her teeth, nipping it as her breath caressed its hollow tip. Her buttocks pushed back against his crotch, absorbing as much of the nether shaft as was physically possible. And her vagina was quivering with excitement, agitating the entire length of its companion-piece. Now it was this member that was incipient.

Prior let go her breasts and moved his hands down to her hips. He held her bottom tight while he kneaded her inner thighs and buttocks and accelerated all his tools. He wrestled her entire torso about, half-lifting it, impaling it on the fork behind while her mouth struggled to subdue the whiplashing rod ahead. His entire gut seemed to gather itself for the building effort: prostate, seminal vesicle, kidneys, bladder and colon interacting to produce a potent liquid lava. His heart pumped raw serum down through the arteries to mix with the sperm cells swimming up from the steaming testicles. A boiling pool of ejaculate formed, swelled, pressed behind the safety-cock—

HOLD! he cried to his system.

In that physical and chemical and emotional pause he planted his two thumbs against her pulsing clitoris and pressed in, squeezing the little organ unmercifully.

Oubliette stiffened as though electrocuted.

Then he burst. The valves flung open, the turbulent concoction coursed out. It rammed into his penis, split into three channels, blasted up each separate tube. Prior felt it spewing into the dual chambers of her ass, rising along the passage to her mouth. Urge after urge—and finally the vanguard spurted over her tongue. Only a few precious drops, after the split and the enormous length of piping—but it signified success.

That was when she came. Prior was largely finished, but his members retained tumescence, and he held them in place while she rocked herself into ecstasy. Both holes clamped about the two short members, milking them of the last boiling drops, savoring the hard-won serum.

As she subsided, he mashed her clitoris again, working it savagely between his thumbs.

"No!" she cried around his mouth-organ. But he would not relent. He kept his waning members jammed in place and continued exercising her button, wrestling with it and pulling it and twisting it.

She groaned, she cried—and she climaxed again. But still he did not stop.

Her third consecutive orgasm began to turn the tide on his own cycle. Slowly his members regained strength, wedged inside her heaving body.

"That's enough!" she screamed as the fifth climax hit her. "No more, no more!" But he was working up his own second heat now, restimulated by the violence of her involuntary motions. He was making her respond; he had a feeling of power, and this turned him on as much as her body and reactions.

She began to fight him, kicking out her legs and falling flat on the bed, but he clung like a leech, outside and in. "Bastard!" she gasped as the seventh climax tore through. "Sadist!" with the eighth. "Eeg demon!" with the ninth.

But it was not until the eleventh that he came again, and it was slow and painful and immensely satisfying though only two of his organs remained lodged.

Only then did he let her drop, his two penises sucking out limply. The long one was still stiff, since it was naturally rigid, but it was buried beneath one of her breasts and he was sure the small ejaculation had not reached its terminus.

He was exhausted. He felt like a spent balloon. But he had put this filly through her paces. A dozen jumps!

"You pass," she whispered as his dilute sperm drooled across the crevice of her rear. "You just graduated. With fucking honors."

Prior knew that already.

Chapter Nineteen

He was whole again, in a manner of speaking, and in a major respect better than ever. His 3.97 had been replaced by a galaxy of serviceable instruments that could plumb the depths of any woman. Never again would anyone look disparagingly at his ready member and inquire politely when he was planning to have his erection. If it was sheer size they wanted, he had it; if special effects, he had them. All ready the moment he plugged in his choice.

Yet he was unsatisfied. He kept thinking of his original miniature. It had never been much, but at least it had been him. He had had it all his life; he had screwed his small share of women and his larger share of token-slots, and he had beaten it when both distaff and tokens were in short supply. Maybe the little fellow didn't have an impressive track record—but such experience as he had had, it had brought him. He had grown accustomed to it.

And it had protected him from venereal disease. What more loyal service could he ask than that?

The new array was impressive; he couldn't fault it on any reasonable grounds. Size, shape, sensation—Oubliette had more than done her job. But dammit, a fuck wasn't real unless the penis was real—and all of these were artificial. So he was unreasonably dissatisfied.