3 comments/ 30935 views/ 9 favorites David's Summer of '61 By: Thorilla It was the summer of 1961 and I was 21 years old and was continuing with my hobby of bird watching. I had spent the previous two weeks on the banks of Brantwood Water in the English Lake District. I had been studying waterfowl including Gadwall, Teal, Pochard, Snipe and Grebes. I had also managed to identify many water margin birds including Warblers, Wagtails and Buntings. I had kept elaborate records in my diary. All in all it had been a brilliant summer and the weather had behaved impeccably. One afternoon I decided to explore the sloping grassland overlooking the lake. I made my way up to a fairly high vantage point, on a south facing slope, and sat there with my binoculars taking in the beauty and scenic grandeur which lay before me. I saw a Merlin falcon hunting some way to the east, hovering in the sunlight. The sun streamed down as I lay there in my jeans and t-shirt. After a while I fell asleep listening to the songs of Meadow Pipits and Skylarks. An hour or so later I awoke, aware of people's voices nearby. I looked around and about a hundred yards to my left, slightly downhill from me, were two women walking up the slope. As they got to my level I waved at them and they waved back. They changed direction and walked directly towards me. As they approached I was aware that they wore 'just below the knee' length summer dresses which appeared a little incongruous for walkers, particularly on sloping ground. As they neared they were clearly out of breath and slowed down to a standstill. "I can't go much further Phoebe," said the taller one with blonde hair. "We'd better stop here for a rest." They called to me and asked whether I minded them joining me. I replied "Not at all." Lying back I looked at them in more detail. They must both have been in their early forties and appeared athletic, slim and tanned. One had blonde hair and 'Phoebe' had auburn hair. Both wore similar floral-patterned summer dresses gathered at the waist and quite full with flounces at the hem. They carried small day sacks and wore flat white plimsolls. These, I suppose, were the equivalent of 'trainers' in those days. My hands behind my head, I squinted at them as they neared. Standing in front of the sun there skirts appeared almost transparent and I clearly became aware of every shapely contour of their legs and thighs. Cynthia, the taller blonde haired one introduced themselves and said they had not meant to climb this high as they had set off merely to explore the lake margin. I told them about my ornithology, and they appeared quite interested. They moved closer and stood with their backs to me admiring the extensive panorama towards the lake. From my low vantage point I became transfixed by the hems of their skirts. Summer breezes lifted them slightly revealing their legs up to the backs of their knees. I thought by moving my head to one side I might secretly be able look under their skirts, particularly Cynthia's. Unfortunately the wind dropped and Cynthia moved out of range further down slope. Phoebe walked up to me, smiled sweetly, and looked down. She said they had some sandwiches and I was very welcome to join them. She appeared to be standing 'too' close to my face for comfort, and again I was aware of gusts of wind lifting the front part of her skirt giving me tantalising glimpses of knees and lower thighs. She asked me further details on my bird watching, Our conversation was a stilted affair as I tried to retain eye contact but instinctively my eyes were drawn to her thighs whenever their was a breeze. I had a fixed, almost insane, smile on my face as my eyes darted from her face to her skirt hem and then to her face again. She asked whether she could borrow my binoculars. I said "Be my guest." as I handed them up to her. She asked me about focusing and stepped back slightly so her leg was within a few inches of my face. I moved closer to her and slid sideways so I could clearly see up her dress at the next gust of wind. "Yes." she said scanning the lake edge "I can see where we've walked from." I said "Oh really," in excited tones, my penis beginning to stiffen. The third gust of wind blew her dress wide open and my eyes feasted on pure white cotton panties with a lace trim. She seemed unaware of my presence beneath her. "Goodness I can even see our holiday cottage," she said in excited tones. "Cynthia, come over here, you can see our cottage," she yelled. Cynthia appeared at her side and I shifted position so I could see up Cynthia's skirt if the wind got up. Phoebe handed her my binoculars. She moved nearer, looked down at me, and asked about focussing which I explained. As she was using it she seemed to lose her balance slightly and stepped back. For some reason she had placed her foot on the other side of my head and ended up straddling my face. I could not believe my luck. From out of nowhere two attractive, slim middle aged women were giving me upskirt views of their knickers. My penis again stiffened. Cynthia became quite animated as she worked out where they had walked from and she transferred her weight from one leg to another. At each movement her legs opened and closed and I noticed she wore a pair of cream coloured lacy panties. She seemed unaware of me between her feet, staring up her skirt as the two women passed the binoculars one to the other. Cynthia, at one point, stared down at me, pulling her skirt in so she could see my face, and asked what sort of a duck had mainly grey plumage. I replied that it was probably a male Gadwall. She let go of her skirt which flared out above me and continued with her search. She stood in this position for about fifteen minutes. Sometimes she looked down at me, asking me questions, while pulling in her dress; other times she'd stand above me, legs apart, with the wind blowing her skirt from side to side. If I wasn't a gentleman I would have been wanking furiously beneath her dress staring up at her beautiful rounded buttocks and singing bawdy sea shanties at the top of my voice. Phoebe said it was time for some sandwiches. I asked if they wanted any help, as Cynthia stepped off me, and they told me that everything was in hand. I remained lying on my back absorbing the sunlight which appeared more intense than ever. A flock of Lapwings flew over, buffeted by the breeze. I was aware of paper bags being opened noisily behind me. Phoebe and Cynthia had established their 'base camp' immediately uphill from where I was lying. After five minutes they announced "Grub up." I turned over and lay on my stomach and was greeted with a rather 'unusual' sight. The sandwiches had been arranged on two plastic plates. A small container full of carrot and celery pieces was close by and mugs of hot tea had been poured. I was handed a mug by Phoebe who was sitting next to Cynthia. Both women sat immediately upslope from me and their alfresco meal. "Those are fish paste and these are cheese and chutney," announced Phoebe smiling at me. I said, "Thanks very much and I do hope that I am not robbing you." What was so unusual about the view, from where I was lying, was that instead of sitting demurely with their legs tucked behind them out of sight, both ladies sat with their knees drawn up together and their feet apart. They had covered their knees with their summer dresses but clearly were unaware that their thighs and panties were on full view. They were either unaware or didn't care. "Help yourself David. We've got more food in the other day sack." Said Cynthia. Each of the two plates lay between each of their feet. They leant forward and helped themselves. I slid further towards them so my face was almost at plate level. I had a fish paste sandwich and an excellent view of Cynthia's knickers. Both women appeared to be dazzled by the sun as they surveyed the view across the valley. They were enjoying a long leisurely conversation about their holiday. I seemed to be temporarily excluded from it. In my state of heightened sexual tension I was quite thankful to be left to admire more 'local views.' From my viewpoint the sun illuminated every detail of the ladies' inner thighs and exposed underwear. It was fortunate that I was lying on my stomach as, with my erection, had I been on my back, Phoebe and Cynthia might have mistaken it for a new peak on the horizon. It appeared, at least to me, to be of those massive proportions. I chewed my way slowly through several sandwiches staring contentedly at both pairs of knickers, a mere three feet in front of me. The tea, I made last as long as possible. Phoebe asked me whether I wanted an apple as she reached into her bag. Speaking to her panties I said "yes please," and was handed a shiny green one. "Don't worry they've all been washed." she confirmed in a jolly manner. I slowly began eating it staring at Cynthia's lacy nylon panties. I noticed that they were slightly stained at the front. They were crying out to me to be sniffed and snuffled. In my head I balanced up the risk of sliding my face up her skirt and into her knickers. At worse she would scream and run away, at best she may allow me access. I moved my head until it was almost in the plate of sandwiches between Cynthia's feet. "Let me move those out of the way for you." said Cynthia moving the food to one side. I put my mug and apple down as I positioned my head further towards her. I was aware of her moving her knees slightly apart as my head brushed her ankle. The atmosphere was electric. My heart thumped wildly. Cynthia was continuing her conversation with Phoebe and began reaching around for things to pass to her including my mug. I pushed further up. I was actually under her dress and her thighs were almost within licking distance. Phoebe asked me if I wanted any more food clearly aware of my progress up her friend's skirt. "I'm quite full thank you," I stammered, rather self consciously. "Pass me that plate please Cynthia," said Phoebe, clearly tidying things away. I moved my face further up her skirt so that I could lick her warm thighs which I did. Her knees slid further apart as she allowed me to continue my underskirt exploration. Cynthia pulled her skirt hem firmly over her knees presumably to shield my lewd activities from Phoebe's eyes. Phoebe was asking Cynthia what they had got in the cottage for tea and whether they should call in at the village shop for milk on the way back. Meanwhile my nose nuzzled her nylon gusset and I breathed in nectar. Her odour was indescribable and seemed to blend with all the outdoor natural smells surrounding me. I rubbed my nose up and down her pubic area, licking and probing with my tongue. After several minutes her juices began to flow and filled my nostrils with an exotic musky perfume. I was delirious with pleasure and wished I could remain under her skirt for the rest of the afternoon. I wasn't sure how far I should proceed with stimulating her, but that decision was taken away from me. I became aware of her closing her legs slightly and felt her hand firmly pushing my head out. Clearly I had overstayed my welcome and she may have been embarrassed at Phoebe's presence. I withdrew my head after kissing her thighs in gratitude and rolled back on my back trying to hide my subsiding erection, I lay there slightly confused. I heard the two women pack there bags and was handed my half eaten apple. To each side of me they took their leave and thanked me for the use of the binoculars. I smiled up at them and thanked them for the food. Both smiled back and turned to go. After a few paces Cynthia turned her head and looked at me and mouthed "Thank you" and smiled at me in a very sad way. I lay back, my mind in turmoil, and listened to the Skylark as the sun's rays began to cool. end David's Summer of '61 Ch. 02 (It was the summer of 1961 and I was 21 years old and was continuing with my hobby of bird watching. I had spent the previous two weeks on the banks of Brantwood Water in the English Lake District and had been studying waterfowl) - After Phoebe and Cynthia left me I pondered for over an hour the now familiar prospect which was illuminated by the fading sunlight. Picking up my rucksack, diary and binoculars I scrambled slowly downhill, my knees aching from the twisting jolting walk. I thought about Cynthia and her sad face and wondered whether I shouldn't perhaps try and see her again. I felt I should befriend her and learn more of her history. In my mind's eye I could see her knees, inner thighs and sad face, and again I experienced confusion. Back at the small hotel near the boat jetty there appeared to be several small cars newly parked outside. The hotel had had only five guests during the fortnight I had stayed there, and that included me. I wondered how the proprietor kept going with such few visitors. Sitting on a bench near the dipping dinghies overlooking the choppy water I could hear rowdy laughter and loud conversation coming from the hotel bar. Women's shrieks punctured the hubbub. One loud woman appeared to be telling a long story which I couldn't quite make out because of the engine sounds of two motor boats approaching from the opposite bank. I felt reluctance to enter the hotel as I was so used to having the bar entirely to myself and my thoughts but I was in desperate need of a long beer so strolled in. Eight middle-aged women, probably in their early to middle forties, glanced up at me as I entered and weaved between them to be served by Henry. "The usual David?" he asked and I nodded smiling at him above the noise. "A bit crowded tonight Henry," I stated, picking up my pint and looking around. He smiled back. The ladies were sitting at two small tables filled with empty glasses which Henry noticed required collecting. I decided to help him out and did the rounds and was greeted by smiles, bosoms, crossed legs, bright lipstick, tartan skirts and dark stockings. The glasses were collected to the familiar 'Thank you young mans,' which I always found annoying and unnecessary. Because I was relatively short and skinny people always thought I was at school, or at least too young to be out drinking. On my barstool, I joined Henry and discussed the local football team and their future prospects in the league. From the women I could make out snippets of conversation from which I gathered that they were spending a weekend away from their husbands and children. This appeared to be an annual reunion event and they had all been at school together. They were all 43. I understood that they had driven up from Manchester that day and that they had booked an evening meal at the restaurant next door and were having their aperitifs with us at our hotel. Their conversation covered all sorts of subjects and I sensed that they appeared rather forthright in their views on risqué topics in particular. One lady asserted that her husband found it difficult to satisfy her physically as he had never really understood the workings of her genitalia. Others agreed with her and confirmed that generally men were useless and disinterested in the 'between-legs department'. One of them, Joyce, told the others that she had tried once to show her husband the intimate individual parts of her pubic area, but was told that he didn't need to know as he was a man. He swiftly walked off to the local pub with their pet Labrador, Jesse. Joyce remarked that he probably knew more about Jesse's private parts than about his own wife's. This was greeted with squeals of laughter from the rest. I laughed to myself as it probably was true. Patricia's husband was put off physically from looking between her legs although he liked to feel her down there. Glenda had asked George, her husband, to perform oral sex on her as George appeared to enjoy felatio from Glenda. Apparently George could not bring himself to do it, or imagine anything worse and would prefer to divorce her, truth be known. Henry, the barman, who was probably in his sixties, was drawn into the conversation reluctantly but remained reticent to join in as he was clearly embarrassed at the comparatively low level of subject matter, and would rather not divulge anything personal to strangers. "But you must have thought about using your tongue on your wife's most sensitive spot?" someone called to Henry. "Have you never thought of surprising her with it?" Henry turned red with exasperation and exclaimed, "My missus would not respect me for it. Who could call a man a man who placed his mouth to a woman's private parts? It ain't natural, it's dirty and I wouldn't do it, and further more I despises men that do it." Red-faced Henry was clearly shaken and enquired whether anyone else wanted a drink before he closed the bar for the night. I said that I would like another pint and he gave me one on the house. Henry told me quietly that he thought the women only said these things to wind themselves up and I should ignore them if they continued. He also warned me that, in his experience, women together, who had been out drinking, were capable of doing 'anything' and that I had better keep out of their way. I winked at him and wished him goodnight. Henry left the hotel quietly and silently cycled off to his wife and cottage further up the valley. The ladies trooped out to the restaurant next door and bade me goodnight, while I remained behind to finish off my two beers. Mrs Tyler, the hotel owner, came down from last-minute tidying and cleaning the communal washing areas upstairs. From the kitchen she brought out my meal which I ate in the bar. "There's a houseful tonight David," she said in her thick Cumbrian accent. "They come here every year and are a 'good laugh' although they are high-spirited and do tend to stay up half the night chattering. I usually sleep in the annex next door where it's quieter. You are welcome to a small room at the rear of the annex for the night if you want." "I'll be OK Mrs.Tyler but thanks very much for the offer." I replied to the kind white haired widow. A couple of hours later the ladies returned. I had been asleep and I awoke bleary eyed. "Hello young man, and how old are you then?" asked one of them looking a little drunk. Clearly they had been enjoying more wine with their meals. I told them my age and they appeared surprised. "Well I never," said one, "I thought he was the same age as our Robert and he's only fourteen!" said a slim lady in a black polo neck sweater. "Have you always been that short?" asked a thick legged woman, and I replied to her incredibly stupid question that, until recently, I had been a 6 foot 5 inch tall body builder and my present puny condition was caused by having to answer too many stupid questions. She looked perplexed and sat down suddenly. They continued with their previous 'sexual conversation' clearly having had to temporarily curtail it in the 'refined atmosphere' of the Cumbrian Ram restaurant next door. Betty narrated a long story about withholding her 'maritals' until Fred learnt how to make her 'happy'. Colleen saw that I was just about to leave and return to my room when she called to me. "Young man, David isn't it? What does the younger generation think about, y'know, women's parts. Would you ever do it down there with your tongue?" I told them that I already had, many times, and opened the door to go. This caused uproar and before I could take things in I was bombarded with questions and firm hands led me back to my chair. The ladies plied me with intimate questions and I sensed the women were becoming sexually charged having discovered that they had a young expert in the art of oral pleasuring in their midst. The inevitable happened and I found myself upstairs in one of their bedrooms on the second floor. It was very crowded. I sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the double bed while the eight women made themselves comfortable, sitting on the bed, on the dressing table stool, on a small sofa and on the floor. It was agreed that Betty would be first. At my low vantage point all around me were legs, stockings and skirts. I felt a wave of intense excitement in my groin, although my body was exhausted from being in the intense sunshine all day. "What do you want me to do?" asked Betty. She was a lady clearly old enough to have had me as her son or nephew and here I was just about to tell her to pull her knickers down. "Pull your knickers down to your ankles, sit on the edge of the bed and open your legs," I said as if about to examine her medically. Below her pink satin blouse she wore a smart dark grey knee-length box-pleated tweed skirt which flared from the hips. She also wore black fine denier stockings with black three inch heeled court shoes. She stared down at me and politely told me to pull her knickers down for her. The other women egged me on while passing around a small bottle of brandy. "Take a swig David. You're going to need it by the time we are all through with you." Said Joyce smirking in an insane manner. I knelt against Betty and slid my hands up her skirt. I felt petticoat lace then the silky smoothness of her slip itself. Inside this nylon sheath her black stockings felt both smooth and scratchy. My fingers touched her suspender clips and reinforced stocking tops which were of denser nylon. Her outer thighs were noticeably warm with a hint of flabbiness. I resisted the temptation to duck my head under her skirt and breathe in her delicious odours which I imagined were waiting for me; I had all night for her and the rest of them I thought. Both hands felt the intricate lacy hems of her loose legged knickers. "My goodness," I said under my breath "Expensive lingerie." What was it about women? Why did they need to dress up expensively for a 'hen weekend with the girls'? I only imagined that their husbands were immune to the subtleties of their underwear drawer and recognised only two types of panties, those which were on and those which were off. I could not believe my luck. Here I was, a 'young' lad, not bad looking but a bit short and skinny, all alone in a hotel bedroom with eight attractive middle aged women. Each woman was dressed to kill, or at least had on sexy underwear which could raise the Titanic if required. In addition they were all in a state of high sexual tension as, as far as I could work out, none of them had experienced orgasms before, at least not of someone else's volition. I experienced a massive erection which remained painfully restricted inside my jeans. Betty's knickers slid down easily. They were jet black and damp at the gusset. I sniffed and snuffled them noisily as they descended to her knees She smelt very aroused. She sat down on the end of the bed, parted her legs widely placing both shoes firmly on the carpet to each side of my knees. I shuffled forward, my bottom on my heels and lifted her slip and pleated skirt over my head. Betty flopped back on the bed and rearranging her skirt neatly over me. Under her shiny jet black slip all I could see was dark pubic hair above her stocking tops. Her body heat was intense and her thighs felt clammy. I delayed my detailed tongue inspection of her vagina until I had thoroughly stimulated the fleshy areas around it. I nibbled her thighs and licked under the accessible parts of her buttocks. Many minutes past as I continued ignoring her most sensitive parts. I sensed that the room had become quiet, very quiet. The other women were clearly wondering what I would do. They could see the outline of my head bobbing about under Betty's pleated skirt and watched her flinch visibly as I persistently teased her. I judged it was time to concentrate my entire attentions on her labia. Her already moist opening yielded to the firm probings from my tongue and nose. My hands scratched tiny circles under, and along, her inner thighs and buttocks. Gradually her inner lips opened revealing her clitoris under its hood. These were tongued incessantly with long gentle licks and with little circular licks. Betty began to respond involuntarily, her thighs shaking markedly. I was in awe of the powerful deep orgasm which was clearly building up inside her. Her responses became more intense and laboured. My repertoire of probings, massagings and lickings was stretched to its limits while I pushed her onward to the inevitable for many minutes. Suddenly I felt her spasm. She clamped her heavy thighs to my head and squeezed tightly. I struggled for air as she took a sharp intake of breath and slowly moaned. Her buttocks were off the bed as she bucked up and down in time to her high pitched moanings. Orgasm swept over orgasm and continued shuddering and juddering her body until she lay back completely exhausted and perspiring. The beautiful slim forty three year old was almost weeping with joy. I removed my head from beneath her hot skirt and petticoat and lay on my back on the bedroom carpet breathing in clean cool air. Frantically I unbuckled my jeans and pushed them to my knees. I slid my underpants down and released my erection. I caressed Betty's shoe with my tongue as she murmured her gratitude above me on the bed. Two ladies helped me off with the rest of my clothes as they could see I was sweating freely. Like motherly types they folded each item carefully and put it in a pile. and got me some water. There was a general conversation regarding Betty's condition. Pamela, a tall curvaceous brunette, her wavy hair in flicks, had decided that it was her turn next so hovered near me, smiling beautifully, mouthing "Me next please." Three others talked to Betty and I heard them mention 'waves' and 'muscular spasms'. I lay naked looking up into Pamela's eyes above me hearing her sweet "Me next pleases" as she stepped over me standing in her smart red shirtwaister dress, white petticoats and black stockings. She stood over my body as if claiming it as a trophy or a new plaything. She stood above my crotch and with great care rubbed her stockinged feet slowly over my stomach and my rock hard erection. "Me next please," she mewed. I realised to my intense pleasure that it was a case of 'one down seven to go'. Again I could not believe my luck. (To be continued.) David's Summer of '61 Ch. 03 (It was the summer of 1961 and I was 21 years old and was continuing with my hobby of bird watching. I had spent the previous two weeks on the banks of Brantwood Water in the English Lake District. I had been studying waterfowl. One night at the hotel where I was staying a hen-party of eight middle-aged women arrived. I was invited up to their rooms when they found out that I did not mind pleasuring them orally) * Pamela stood over my naked body as if claiming it as a trophy or a new plaything. She stood above my crotch and with great care rubbed her stockinged feet slowly over my stomach and my rock hard erection. "Me next please," she mewed. The others were still laughing and joking with Betty who told them that she would like 'more of where that came from'. I told Pamela to stand astride my face and allow me to slide her panties off. All around us the conversation stopped as they watched Pamela stand over me. She reached up under her red shirt-waister and petticoat and slid her panties off as far as her knees. She had an attractive toothy smile and a long slim neck and stared straight into my eyes with total confidence as if she did this sort of thing every night with her husband. In my naked state I couldn't hide the fact that I was aroused and instinctively reached for my erect penis which appeared to crawl further up my stomach. "Go on Pam, drop them on his face girl," urged Colleen. I looked across at the Irish woman where she was sitting on the floor with her knees together but feet apart. I couldn't help but notice that she wore pale blue glossy French-knickers under her black satin skirt and pale blue slip. I stared into Pamela's eyes again and she blew me a kiss and swayed her hips provocatively but kept her knees apart so as to prevent her panties from slipping further down. I decided that it was about time they came off so reached up and slid them down to her ankles as she stepped out of them in a very lady-like, almost elegant, way. I held them to my nose as if they were some sort of special gift. They were simple white nylon briefs with a pale pink lace trim and smelled of perfume and warm moist vagina. I maintained eye contact with her as I breathed in her femininity and reluctantly replaced them to one side. "Go on Pam sit on his face," shouted Colleen who was now drinking whisky straight out of a bottle. I looked at her French knickers and noticed that her other hand had strayed under her skirt. Pamela looked like a giantess from my vantage point. Her hips appeared quite wide and I wondered what I had let myself into. My eyes remained on hers but shot glances up her dress as she swayed from side to side. She was clearly teasing me and I was enjoying it. "Let me know if I squash you," she said, lowering herself, inches at a time, onto me. I watched her bend her knees and open her legs. Her fine denier black stockings came into view under her white flared slip. I watched spellbound as she squatted down and rested her haunches on my face. She adjusted her clothes around her and I felt her underslip and dress rest on my chest and upper arms. She shook down her dress at the front and sides and I stared at her glistening vagina surrounded by dark pubic hair. She was clearly aroused. "Are you alright down there?" she asked. I told her that I was fine and began coaxing her lower lips apart. Soon her juices began to flow and she shifted her feet slightly and allowed most of her body weight to rest on me. Her odour was musky and powerful and soon my tongue was completely inside her and probing the walls of her vagina. I moved my hands to her buttocks and began caressing them and kneading them, feeling the firmness of her flesh and smoothness of her skin. "I wish I could take you home young man," said Pamela clearly enjoying my attentions," but my husband wouldn't quite understand." I licked and flicked at her clitoris which had emerged from under its hood and appeared quite prominent. She flinched as I ran my tongue around it and up and down her cleft. She soon got used to by oral pleasuring and we settled into a sort of rhythm with her rocking on her heels as I licked and lapped, and entered and re entered her vagina. I watched her suspender straps flex and stretch at every movement and from time to time I'd nibble the inside of each thigh. "Ouch, that tickles," she told me more than once. In the meantime my erection was being fondled and stroked my slim cool fingers. I heard laughter as it was handled and lewd comments on its length and girth. One of the women began wanking me and she was clearly an expert. I reached down and tried to help things along but my hand was brushed aside. "No you don't," said a motherly voice and whoever she might be continued with jerking me off. Under Pamela my face was quite sticky as she wiped her fanny up and down my nose and mouth. She was clearly close to 'coming' judging by her breathing and little shrieks. All around me her dress and slip shook and swished. "Yes, yes don't fucking stop," she yelled. "Language Pamela," said someone, "remember there's a young gentleman present." I continued furiously licking her clitoris and used my fingers to scratch her thighs above her stocking tops. Within seconds she 'came'. Her body seemed to tremble, quiver then shudder as wave after wave hit her. "Yes, Oh yes, yes," she screeched and the other women stopped talking and clapped. "Well done Pam," said Colleen. "It was nothing, really," said the woman squatting on my face, and pulled her dress to one side to see what a mess I was in. "Pass me my knickers," she said and began mopping my brow and cheeks. I took them from her and wiped my mouth and chin. I heard her knees crack as she stood up then step into her panties, I watched her rearrange her clothing and pull down her nylon slip which had risen up. "There, Will I do?" she asked one of the others as she adjusted her hair and suspender clips. In the dim light from the bedside lamps I noticed that it was Betty who was still wanking me. She suddenly stopped when Joyce told her that I would 'lose the urge' if I was wanked off completely. Clearly Joyce had had experience in such matters. "Well I'm next," said Glenda, walking towards me. "I don't think I could squat for very long so I'm going to kneel over you young man," she said in a very matter-of-fact way as if she were discussing the weather with the vicar. Glenda was quite tall and slim with blonde hair cut quite short; she wore a knee length navy blue pleated skirt below a white blouse. She wore pearls and expensive looking earrings and bracelets. I noticed from my position flat on my back that her petticoat was white and her seamed stockings were flesh coloured. "Right I'll just tale down my drawers, no peeping ladies," she said and this was met by laughter. She had a kindly face but it was more wrinkled than the rest of them and tanned. Too much sunbathing had taken its toll. "Oooh frilly lacy ones," said Patricia as Glenda stepped out of her panties and waved them in my face. It was predictable where she was going to put them and I was correct. She pulled them over my head making sure the gusset was tight against my nose. There followed another whoop of laughter, followed by more giggling. "Sorry young man," said Glenda, enjoying humiliating me. I didn't really mind as they smelled of 'her arousal' and my penis once more rolled into an upright position. Betty started wanking me again and I shut my eyes with pleasure and stuck out my tongue. "He's waiting for you Glenda, go for it girl," said someone as I watched the tall blonde woman stand over my chest, bend her knees and open her legs. Under her full skirt a white nylon underslip came into view. It was quite flared and decorated with deep flounced lace. It was similar lace to her knickers. Between her legs I noticed dark brown curls waiting for me. Clearly she was not a natural blonde. She tickled me in the ribs and knelt astride my chest. I wriggled under her until her smooth stockinged knees rubbed against my cheeks. "You making yourself comfy?" she asked and I just smiled like a Cheshire cat and stuck my tongue out at her. She knelt up slightly so that I could slide further under her until I could hardly see her face because of her large matronly bosom. "You're a bit of a wriggler young man," I heard her say as she settled her hairy vagina against my nose. The grip on my erection became more intense and could tell that Betty was probably getting worked up at the erotic scene in front of her. If she didn't stop soon I thought it would explode there and then. I reached down and stopped her as I now decided that I would 'come' in my own time. Secretly I wanted to seriously fuck one of these forty-three year olds and would wait for the opportunity. "In you slip," said Glenda pulling her moist labia apart. I noticed her fingernails were varnished in a dark fiery red colour to match her lipstick. She was clearly a smart lady. I slid my tongue into her and watched her rearrange her petticoat over me, then her navy pleats until I was hidden from view. It was just me, her stockings, her lacy suspenders and her petticoat under her dark blue skirt. I felt my penis visibly lengthen. "I could do with a drink Joyce," said the woman sitting on my face. I felt her fidget about as someone handed her a bottle. From underneath her I felt her stomach rumble as she swallowed the liquid. The women were now talking loudly as I wiggled my tongue from side to side and up and down between her inner lips. I could hardly move my head as her thighs gripped me so firmly. As I progressed, however, she spread her legs further and slid forwards. All of a sudden she lifted her clothes off me." Are you OK then Mr. Fanny-licker?" she asked, but before I could reply she had thrown her clothes over me again and I was again in darkness. We carried on like this for many minutes. Betty was now rubbing my stomach as if I was an old dog and I felt different hands stroking and squeezing my erection. Someone left the room to go to the toilet and I heard a flushing sound from the end of the corridor. " It's a bit cold Pamela, I think we'll put the elecric fire on," said someone making a shivering sound. Above me Glenda was beginning toapproach her orgasm. Each flick of my tongue on her clitoris seemed to make her flinch and shiver. It was as if I was turning on a switch. She was clearly highly sensitive and probably only minutes away from 'coming'. She patted my head through her skirt and said "Good lad, you're a good lad down there." Again I felt as if I was a family pet, not a human being. Almost immediately her breathing changed and she grabbed my head. Clearly we were at the point of no return. Betty began wanking me furiously as she sensed that Glenda was close to her climax. Betty was incredibly skilled. The timing and pressure on my exposed glans and foreskin were amazing as she brought me closer, then slowed things down, then brought me closer and slowed things down. I sucked and nibbled at Glenda's clitoris and gripped her buttocks, digging my nails into her. She was bouncing wildly against me almost with savage ferocity. I was close to 'coming' and she definitely was. Then, out of the blue, I felt something well up inside her and she screamed. Everything under her skirt shook violently. I raised my buttocks, gritted my teeth a squirted out warm semen and then it was all over. We had 'come' almost at the same time. Someone flipped up Glenda's skirt and wiped my face with her panties. "Bloody fuck, that were amazing," said the woman kneeling astride my face in broad Mancunian. I had to agree with her that Betty's fingers were amazing and I felt satisfied, at least for the time being. Glenda had to be helped up. Her bosom wobbled as she stood and I seriously wished that she would take her blouse off too. I sat up and wiped my now shrivelled penis with her discarded knickers. "Hey what ya think you're doing," she said snatching them back. Colleen passed me a bottle and I took a swig. The room was now a lot warmer and the fire emitted a cheery glow. "Who wants to be next?" said Heather. "You can if you like," said Colleen who still sat on the floor with her lace-edged French knickers on show. "I know you can see them, young man, that's why I'm sitting like this OK?" she said to me as if challenging me for some obscure reason. In my naked state I stood up and stretched my legs. I saw a reflection in the mirror and thought that the room looked like a scene from an 'adult' movie. I didn't look as short or puny as I had thought I normally did, but maybe this was because most of the women were sitting on the two double beds or on the floor. Heather suddenly dashed off to the toilet and I prepared myself for her return. I got into my usual position on the floor while the ladies swapped stories about their husbands and children. Heather quickly came back and shut the door. She had a sweet face, black hair with a fringe and looked several years younger than the rest. "I hope you don't mind but I've already taken off my panties," she said to me in an apologetic voice and waved them at me. She wore a dark grey skirt suit which was well tailored and fitted her waist quite tightly. She took off her jacket and underneath she wore a simple pale blue blouse. Her bosom was small but I noticed her nipples were quite prominent and jutted out. "Shut up," she said to Colleen, who said something about her tits. Her skirt was very full and ended on the knee and she wore dark tan stockings. From my position at floor level I could see she wore a pink lacy slip. "Where do you want me?" she said in a cocky way as if she was asking a waitress for a table at a restaurant. My mind raced as I thought about the other possible positions we could try. Suddenly it came to me. "Well we could have you on your hands and knees," I replied and pointed to the carpet to each side of me. "You mean facing your feet?" she said placing her knickers on one of the beds. "I suggest you stand over me then kneel forward so that your bottom is over my face," I said almost choking at my own arrogance. Here I was, telling a good looking forty-three year old, to basically do something which I could never expect someone old enough to be my aunt to do. I felt my face go bright beetroot red and suddenly I felt I should crawl into a corner and die. "OK you mean like this?" she said. "Yes," I gulped, as she stood astride my face and allowed me to see up under her skirt. Her slip almost filled her skirt. It wasn't quite 'bouffant' in style but it did give her skirt more shape. I tried to see her vagina above her bare thighs but the light was coming from the wrong angle. "And like this," she said squatting down and suddenly covering my face with her billowing petticoat and skirt. "Yes," I croaked with both embarrassment and amazement. I appeared to have this woman entirely at my beck and call. She swung her knees over my shoulders and put her hands to each side of my waist. I realised that her face would be in the firing line of any wanking I might decide to do. Incredibly Heather asked me whether I'd mind her sucking my willy as her husband likes her to do it. "No, no please do," I gulped," I don't mind at all," I continued almost hysterical with excitement. "Oh good," she said in her delightful accent. "Do you mind if I swallow it?" she asked. I replied "Not at all, not at all," trying to control my shaking at the prospect of filling up this woman's mouth with the contents of my balls. "You just go ahead," I said reassuring her and hoping she would not change her mind. "Are you sure you know what you are doing Heather?" asked Betty. "Of course she does," I said, thinking that Betty was trying to get Heather to change her mind. "Because if you don't I'll suck it instead," said Betty. My heavy penis jerked wildly at the prospect of both women sucking it. I watched Heather back over me lifting her skirt and petticoat to one side. Her arse hung above me and I reached up and pulled her down so that her open legs sprawled on my face. I slid forwards in to the perfect position where my tongue could reach all parts of her anatomy. Pamela pushed a pillow under my head and my tongue's tip lightly brushed the entrance to her vagina. She squirmed deliciously in front of me and I watched her buttocks ripple as she moved. "We'd better make you decent," said Pamela pulling Heather's petticoat and skirt over my head and plunging me once again into darkness. Under her clothes her vagina stank strongly of urine. I wondered whether she had forgotten to wipe herself properly after her visit to the toilet. Nevertheless I probed her between her labia which soon opened and oozed with her juices. "Oh, oh ooh," she moaned, as I wiggled my tongue from side to side inside her. I put my arms around her waist and pulled her even closer into me. My nose was in contact with her anus which smelled faintly fetid but not completely abhorrent. I just adored the way her buttocks tightened at each touch of my tongue on her vagina. Meanwhile I felt my penis in someone's hands. I assumed it was Heather's but couldn't be sure. I lay there in a state of heightened anticipation. I couldn't believe that I had just had a conversation about 'sucking' and 'swallowing' and hoped that they'd quickly do it to me. I didn't have to wait long. I felt a warm wet tongue on my shaft touching it and teasing it. Judging by the movements of Heather's generous arse on my face I guessed it was she who was licking me. The conversation had again stopped as I imagined the other women watching the proceedings with obvious glee and anticipation. "Suck him dry Heather," came the coarse remark from Colleen and the others laughed. "Shut up," said Betty, "You'll wreck her concentration." Evidently this wasn't the case as she licked and probed my fully exposed glans. It felt as if butterflies had landed on the most sensitive part of me. With each lick my penis appeared to bob around randomly, seeking relief from her almost unbearable touches and teases. I stuck my tongue into her as far as it would go and paddled it about. I heard her gulp then take my erection into her mouth. Someone gasped and said, "Well I never, I always thought you were the 'quiet type' Heather; who taught you this?" "Natural," she said," nature," she repeated between sucks. I now felt I was in paradise. Under her wide skirt and petticoat I rubbed my face all over her arse and cunt breathing in her natural fragrance and filling my mouth with the 'nectar' which oozed out of her. I just couldn't get enough of her odours and pushed my nose as far as possible into her vagina and between her buttocks. I could have easily 'drowned' in her perfume. It was very hot and stuffy under her skirt but I didn't care. My penis had grown to what appeared gigantic proportions and I felt her tongue and teeth stimulate me almost beyond endurance. Betty appeared also to be clawing at the inside of my thighs and sooner or later I felt that I was going to 'come' Heather increased the suction on my penis tip and jerked it in and out of her mouth in rapid movements. I tried to copy her rhythms and rapidly flicked at her clitoris. I could tell that she was close to the boil by the way she clenched her arse. I felt that we were involved in a race to see who could make the other 'come' first. I was determined that she would come first so upped the tempo quite considerably. My movements under her white lacy nylon petticoat caused crackling and static discharge. David's Summer of '61 Ch. 03 "Ohwmph." I heard her say with her mouth full of penis. She was on the very brink of coming when I lifted my arse off the carpet and pumped seven thrusts of semen into her. She came within seconds and I felt her involuntary spasms grip my tongue and ripple through her vulva. "Wow," I sighed and threw her skirt over her back. Under her petticoat I could now actually breathe and in the half light I could see the shadows of the women sitting watching. "Was that good Heather?" said Joyce. I heard Heather swallow and ask for a bottle. "Yes that was bloody good," she said and wiped her lips. "I wish my John could do that to me. Where did you learn to do that?" she asked me. I just replied "Natural, nature," and she laughed. Well I'd orally pleasured the first four and there were just another four to go. (Continued in chapter four) David's Summer of '61 Ch. 04 (It was the summer of 1961 and I was 21 years old and was continuing with my hobby of bird watching. I had spent the previous two weeks on the banks of Brantwood Water in the English Lake District. I had been studying waterfowl. One night at the hotel where I was staying a hen-party of eight middle-aged women arrived. I was invited up to their rooms when they found out that I did not mind pleasuring them orally) * I heard Heather swallow and ask for a bottle. "Yes that was bloody good," she said and wiped her lips. "I wish my John could do that to me. Where did you learn to do that?" she asked me. I just replied "Natural, nature," and she laughed. The room felt stuffy and someone opened a window and turned down the electric fire. I lay on my back naked and stared at the central ceiling light. Eileen stood up and walked up to me. "Go on Eileen, knickers off," said Colleen who appeared to be totally drunk. I stared at Colleen's French knickers which were still on view, supposedly for my benefit. Her hand was now blatantly placed between her legs. She leaned back against the bed and urged Eileen on. "Hello young man and how do you want me?" she said in low seductive tones. My penis extended visibly as once again I realised that it was now me who was 'calling the tune'. "Can you squat over me?" I suggested, and was just about to say please when she swung one leg over my chest and stood astride me staring down. She looked a picture. Her makeup and hair were immaculate although I could see greying hair at her temples. She wore a dark brown dress covered in tiny orange flowers. Her outfit had an autumnal look to it. It clung to her curvaceous figure as far as her generous hips then became very full and flared where it ended at her knees. I noticed it was slightly shiny and made of nylon. It made an incredible swishing sound as it slid against her slip and black stockings. My penis was becoming rock hard and ramrod stiff. "You can remove my knickers young man," she said to me, much to the approval of the other ladies who all now appeared to be watching and egging Eileen on. She stood still as I sat up and slipped my hands under her clothes. I slid my fingers up the outside of her thighs, under her petticoat feeling the scratchy smoothness of her nylons. My hands felt coarse next to her stockings and I hoped I wasn't going to ladder them. I found her rear suspender clips and then touched naked smooth flesh above them before seeking the waistband of her knickers. All my instincts told me to duck my head under her dress but I resisted. I was hoping to delay that pleasure a little longer. She lifted her dress at the back and helped me ease her knickers down to her knees. "That's it girl," shouted Colleen and giggled insanely. The silky shiny material felt lacy in my hands and pulled them down to her ankles where she stepped out of them. They were jet black and had a lace panel at the front very fine lacework on the legs. They felt warm and slightly moist. I have to admit that I placed them to my nostrils and breathed in her exquisite natural fragrance. Eileen appeared pleased as she patted me on the top of my head like some old dog. With that I resumed my position flat on my back at her feet. She kicked off one shoe, then the other and rubbed her stocking clad feet over my chest and nipples. I stared up into her eyes and squirmed like a cat. She slid her feet up and down my body from the tip of my penis to my neck. Each movement made my erection twitch wildly around and I reached down and began wanking. "No you don't young man," said Eileen and kicked my hand away," Save that until later," she said standing astride my upper chest. I stole a glance up her dress and there was her petticoat. It was quite full to match her dress and it was also jet-black to match her knickers and stockings. The edge was finished in fine deep concertina pleats in almost transparent nylon. I reached up and let the ornate hems spill through my fingers. "Go on Eileen squat on his face," cackled Colleen who evidently wanted to see some action. "OK, ok, don't rush me," said Eileen placing her feet to each side of my face. I stared up her dress and saw that her suspender belt was also black and her stockings framed her thighs and bush of dark brown hair which awaited me. Slowly she bent and opened her legs and with great care placed her damp cleft over my nose. Although I felt a certain amount of deja-vu with the situation the thing is that I just could not get enough of tonguing women off, and I took a certain amount of pride in doing it. "Oh my gosh," whispered Eileen as she felt my tongue slowly ease her labia apart. She dropped her black petticoat and brown dress over my face so that I was only visible from the rest of the room from my shoulders downwards. I could tell by her sighs and by the way that she fidgeted that no one had ever done this to her before. Betty told her to enjoy herself and clearly had an affinity with her; perhaps they had been best friends at school. My face slowly became sticky with fanny-juice and my nostrils were beginning to fill. I snorted and resumed my licking and tongue-probing of her clitoris which flinched at every movement. Inside her dress I listened to the froufrou sounds of nylon sliding over nylon and watched in awe at her petticoat which hung down over me between her thighs. I stroked her buttocks through her dress and revelled in the slippery smoothness as layer slid over layer beneath my fingers. The whole experience was incredibly sensuous. To be under a woman's derriere with her legs spread across my face and her clothing draped across my naked chest and neck was like being in paradise and their was only one thing more which would keep me on this elevated plane. As if by instinct, or perhaps she just wanted to join her friend, Betty stood up and straddled my waist. I felt her clothing touch my legs as she squatted down. My heavy penis was caressed then held in an upright position until the tip came into contact with some curls. Further movements followed as Betty guided me to her portals then lowered herself onto me. She was incredibly damp and I slid into her in one movement. She squeezed me and told me that it was OK to 'come' inside her. "Betty," said Eileen," I've never seen you like this before," she said to her friend who squatted behind her. "Well I've never seen you with your legs apart squatting on a young lad's face before," she said. I was so thankful that my penis was at long last inside one of the women. I now felt more energised than I had been all night and started bucking my pelvis up and down. Betty followed my lead and matched my movements. I have to say that I was not used to fucking in this position so the whole thing was a new sensation. In front of me Eileen's large fleshy vagina gaped wide open and I pulled a cushion under my head so that I could enjoy her more easily. My hands reached up under her petticoat and kneaded her firm rounded buttocks. She was like putty in my hands and mewed with pleasure as my tongue slurped its way up and down inside her. The two women now were bouncing up and down on top of me. The other ladies urged them on. Colleen was clapping in time with the bounces while Glenda appeared to be counting them. "45,46,47,48....." said Glenda giggling and spluttering at the sight in front of her. Someone tickled my feet. "Don't do that; you'll put him off," said Pamela in her recognisable sexy voice. My tongue was now beginning to feel quite tired. It had been inside so many women that to be honest I was in need of a rest. I thought that at least I'd finish Eileen off then see how I felt about pleasuring the final three. Before long I felt a tidal wave of semen gather in the base of my erection. Betty was expertly taking me to the point of no return and she knew, by the way I reached down and touched her stockinged knees, that I wasn't far off coming. I frantically nibbled and nuzzled Eileen's clitoris which had noticeably grown under its hood. Eileen whispered, "No more, enough, enough" as she began shaking and shuddering, apparently out of control. I watched spellbound as her petticoat and dress shimmied and shook around me making a hissing swishing sound. She stopped her bouncing and placed her whole weight on my jaw. At the same instant I felt semen boil inside me then I released eight spurts into Betty who shrieked with surprise. Meanwhile wave after wave seemed to grip Eileen as she pulsated with her orgasm. She had tears in her eyes as it passed and Betty put her arms around her in an effort to help her. With the weight of both forty-three year olds on me my body felt very weak and vulnerable and I was thankful when first Betty, then Eileen, stood up and allowed me to recover. They shook down their skirts, adjusted their petticoats and suspenders then left the room, presumably to visit the bathroom at the end of the corridor. Colleen watched me like a hawk. She was a relatively large woman and had wide hips and a large bosom. She agreed with Joyce and Patricia that she would 'go next' "I'd like that tongue up me, with me lying on my back," she said in a matter of fact way. Colleen wasn't one to mince words and she knew what she wanted and how she wanted it. "I'll get on the bed and you can kneel on the floor between my legs," she told me. I suspect that Colleen had taken notes and had realised that this position would be the most comfortable for her, if not for me too. Eileen and Betty returned and the room became full of perfume. "It smell's like the proverbial tart's boudoir," said Colleen kicking off her black three inch high heeled court-shoes and sitting on the bed open legged in front of me. I stared at her skirt which was quite full and made of black satin. "You've seen my French-knicks and I prefer to leave them on if it's all the same to you young man," she said pulling her skirt up to her thighs and revealing an equally full petticoat. She lay flat on her back with her arms by her side. She slid forwards so that her feet rested on the floor at the bottom of the big double bed. Her skirt rode up further and I watched the full length of her dark tan stockings come into view. My flaccid penis still dripped with seminal fluid and sperm but the sight in front of me was sufficiently erotic to begin raising it. My head buzzed with lecherous thoughts as I slipped my fingers along her nylons and played with her suspender clips. Colleen shut her eyes and opened her legs even further as I lifted up her petticoat and touched her loose legged French knickers. Her crotch was sopping wet and clearly she was completely aroused. "For fuck's sake get on with it," she pleaded. "Watch your language Colleen," said Pamela and they laughed. "Yes watch your fucking language in front of the young lad," said Glenda giggling loudly. Colleen opened her eyes and smiled wildly at me. She bucked her arse off the bed and pulled her skirt down all around her legs as far as her knees. I took this to mean that she was ready for me to begin pleasuring her. I again raised her skirt and petticoat with both hands and ducked underneath. Her aroma hit me. She smelled mainly of warm moist vagina but she wore a heavy expensive scent which I found intoxicating. I slid my head up to her crotch and breathed in her femininity. She threw her skirt and petticoat over me as I pulled aside one of the legs of her lacy pale blue French knickers and began tonguing her. Soon by degrees her inner labia parted and I slobbered and slurped my way further into her. "Oh my gosh, oh my fucking gosh," she sighed as I found her bud below its hood. She widened her legs even further then placed one foot, then the other, over my shoulders and across my back. By now my penis was rock-hard once more and pushed against the bedcover. I persisted with sucking and nibbling Colleen's clitoris. She appeared hyper-responsive to every lick and movement of my tongue and cursed and swore as she approached her orgasm. "Don't fucking stop," she told me, and "If you do I'll kill you," she went on, moaning and groaning as I mercilessly continued with my tonguing. Under her clothes my face perspired like mad. It was so hot and clammy but her natural muskiness drew me into her. I felt as if I was drowning in the intensity of her female fragrance. Her nylon petticoat shook around me and generated static. Little sparks discharged and crackled about me as I pushed her further and further. For ten long minutes I tongued her with three of my fingers inside her. She appeared almost hysterical as she eventually 'came'. "Yes, fucking yes, yessss," she grunted ferociously as she pulled me more firmly into her so that I could hardly breathe. Then it was all over. Colleen swung her heavy legs off me and pushed my out from under her skirt. I felt Glenda, Eileen and Pamela's eyes on me and on my penis which now dribbled precum. "Oh, oh, amazing," whispered Colleen still recovering from her orgasm. She looked visibly flushed and her face was noticeably red. "So how was it Col?" Glenda asked. "It's the first time I've 'come' like that," she said," amazing, truly amazing," she continued. I smiled and looked at the two whom I hadn't orally pleasured so far. I dashed to the bathroom at the end of the corridor and urinated. I looked in the mirror and admired my toned muscles and stubbly face. Although I was relatively small and puny my upper muscles were well developed: it's the length of my legs which have always been a problem. I smiled at the prospect of having another woman's long legs wrapped around my face and almost growled at my good fortune. Back in the bedroom the ladies were still passing a bottle around. They had easily drunk two bottles of whisky between them. I looked at Joyce and at Patricia and wondered which one would volunteer to be pleasured next. Colleen was still on her back wiping herself with a handkerchief. She still appeared to be telling her friends how amazing it had felt. I took my place naked on the floor leaning back on my elbows. Joyce told me that she would like to go next. I watched her uncross her long shapely legs and stand up. She wore a full flared knee-length black skirt beneath a maroon satin blouse. Her breasts looked heavy and her hips were quite generous. "And how would 'Sir' like me?" she asked, removing her four inch high heel shoes. I told her that I would pleasure her from behind as I found that the most erotic considering she had such a large arse. I told her to stand astride my head facing my feet. She winked at me and then the others and walked up to my face and swung her foot over. Inside her skirt her white lacy petticoat hung down in gathered folds. It appeared that her underskirt was more bouffant than her skirt. I looked up and in the shadows saw her white knickers edged with broderie and eyelet lace were stained along her cleft. Her dark stockings were supported by white lacy suspenders. She reached under and pulled down her knickers to knee level then stepped out of them and dropped them on my penis. In an instant I wrapped the thin nylon around my shaft and began wanking furiously. "He's a one for your undies Joyce," said Glenda, and I couldn't have agreed more. The feel of her knickers on my erection drove me wild, and the view up her skirt was tantalising beyond description. Joyce squatted on my face and my tongue was immediately parting her labia. "Slow down young man," she told me as she knelt forward and spread her legs over my face. I pulled her down on top of me and, with my head supported by the cushion, pushed my tongue inside her and wiggled it about. Her arse was massive but smooth and firm. I couldn't help myself but fondle it and caress it. Glenda pulled Joyce's petticoat and skirt over my head and told her that she must 'maintain her modesty' in the presence of ladies. Everyone laughed. Under her skirt it was quite dark and smelled slightly fetid as my nose was rammed between her buttock cheeks. "Hey that tickles," announced the hefty woman sprawled, legs apart, on my face. I was unable to reply but continued 'ploughing my furrow' up and down her cleft with my tongue and nose. She smelled unbelievable; a cocktail of warm moist vagina, urine and perfume assailed my nostrils and I eagerly breathed her in. I flicked at her clitoris and fingered her labia as she almost squealed with pleasure. "Oh wow, don't stop," she pleaded and it wasn't long before I felt the first signs of an orgasm welling up inside her. She wrapped her fingers around my erection and began milking me with earnest. I felt her hot breath on my testicles then her tongue. Slowly she sucked me into her and I swear that my penis doubled in size. "Who taught you that?" asked Patricia. "You sly old cow Joyce," said Colleen who sounded amazed that most of my manhood was now inside their friend's mouth. Our movements became more and more frenzied as each pushed the other towards the ultimate pleasure. Suddenly it was over. I gushed and jerked semen into Joyce's mouth and she gurgled something as she shuddered and shook her pubic area savagely against my face. Immediately I lifted her skirt and slip and gulped in cool fresh air. My brow was covered in small beads of perspiration and I smelled terrible. I watched her spit the contents of my testicles into a handkerchief and kneel up and then step off me. She smiled at me as if I was a favourite nephew and I saw she still had a string of fluid hanging off her chin. "That was very nice young man," Joyce said and swivelled her hips as if she were shaking a tail feather. She adjusted her stockings and pulled her knickers up over her suspenders. From my position on the floor I stared at her petticoat which she rearranged carefully before shaking her skirt down again. She gave be a playful kick in my ribs and sat on the bed next to Patricia. "You're next Pat," she told a tall slim woman wearing a bright red pleated skirt. "You're not going to watch I hope," said Patricia realising that she would be the last one to be pleasured by my tongue. I lay naked on my back in the centre of the room with my limp penis lying against my stomach in a drying pool of semen. I watched Pat stand up then circle me. "Shall I take them off? They're French ones and quite loose?" she asked as she raised her pleats to show me. Her French knickers looked expensive and had very wide lacy flounces. They were white in colour and had a satin sheen to them which matched her suspender belt and petticoat. I kept wondering why these women appeared to wear their best lingerie at a hen weekend; were they competing with each other? "Come on Pat, squat on his face," came the usual coarse remark from Colleen. "Well young man shall I squat on your face?" she said shaking her skirt and swivelling her hips provocatively. I was struck dumb by her question and could only reply in 'penis language'. There for all eight women to see was my erection growing at, what appeared to be, an inch a second. "It's got a mind of its own," said Glenda admiring my now rock hard appendage. Patricia removed her shoes and stood with her feet to each side of my neck. I stared up her skirt at the now familiar underwear. She rubbed a foot along my cheek as I reached down and began masturbating. "No you don't," said Betty, "that's my job that is," she continued. I felt her run her fingers up and down while someone else scratched the inside of my thighs. Above me Patricia spread her legs and brought her arse down against my chin. I pulled her knicker leg to one side and slurped my way between her labia. She smelled strongly and had clearly been aroused for most of the evening. Just like all the other ladies she shook both her petticoat and skirt over my head so that only my lower body could be seen. I felt as if four pairs of hands were touching my genitalia and legs. Someone pushed my hand up her skirt where I felt moist curls beneath thin nylon. I reached out with my other hand which was placed on someone's knee. I followed the stocking up to the suspender clip and slid my fingers under the elastic of some glossy panties and into more curls. I now felt surrounded on every side and virtually immobile except for the writhing woman on the end of my tongue. David's Summer of '61 Ch. 04 The room smelled of sex, pure undiluted sex and I was its focus. "Don't stop whatever it is you're doing to me," said Patricia clearly at the point of no return. I listened to the swishing and rustling of my head inside her petticoat and under her skirt. She jerked herself furiously over my face which by now was covered by her fluids. "Just don't fucking stop," she spat the words out at me as each thrust became more violent. My fingering of the other women was becoming more ferocious and there was a kind of animal bestiality in the way we treated each other. It was clear that Patricia was fast approaching her orgasm so I pushed her more roughly and tongued her more wildly. She 'came' in a swift splutter of frenzied spasms mixed with swearing and cursing. "Language Patricia," said Colleen with two of my fingers inside her. I had no more strength left and with little effort erupted the contents of my balls over Betty's fingers and lay back admiring Patricia's underwear. That evening perhaps was one of the longest I can recall. It felt strange to have been allowed to pleasure women all old enough to be my aunt. I truly believe that their husbands would not know where to start and my talents were, to say the least, appreciated. THE END