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Chest

By: WFEATHER



I sat on the bed, reading more of the Star Doc series, when movement at the edge of my peripheral vision caught my attention. Looking up, I was pleasantly surprised to see my newlywed wife enter the bedroom. All she wore were a favorite black thong and one of my old faded blue flannel shirts, unbuttoned and just barely hiding her feminine swells. 

With a smile, I set the book aside and held my arms wide. Anya knelt in my lap and leaned into me, kissing my neck as I wrapped an arm around her waist and slipped my other hand inside the flannel shirt. Anya purred like a contented kitten, obviously enjoying my touch as I balanced a breast in my hand, feeling its gentle weight as I gave it a subtle squeeze. 

"You could fondle me all night," she whispered, "and I still wouldn't get tired of it." 

"Perhaps I will, then," I said softly with a smile, squeezing the breast a little harder and a little longer. 

"Just remember, mister," she countered with a laugh, "that I really am more than just my chest." 

"But you know I've always been a breast man. But how about this: Why don't you lean back against me?" 

"Sure, sweetie." After sharing a brief kiss, my young wife shifted her position, leaning back into my chest and then placing my hands upon her own chest. 

"I thought you said you're more than just your chest," I observed. 

"I am!" Anya agreed vigorously, letting her hands finally drop to her lap. 

"I know you're of course much more than your chest," I said, kissing her soft cheek. 

"But can you blame me if I like to fondle your breasts like this?" As I spoke, I caressed and lifted and gently squeezed her breasts, enjoying their weight and feel and warmed. 

And Anya purred yet again. 

"But..." I removed my hands from my wife's chest (begrudgingly), and caressed her shoulders. "But, I also like your shoulders." 

I kissed the side of her neck. "I also like your neck." 

My lips moved upward. "I also like your cheeks." 

My fingers toyed with the long strands brushing her shoulders. "I definitely like your long, sand-colored hair." 

"More than my breasts?" Anya asked. Even though I could not see her smile, I could practically hear the ends of her lips curling upward. 

"Perhaps," I admitted, slipping my hands down the front of my wife's body, rhythmically squeezing her ample feminine swells through the flannel shirt. "Then again, perhaps now." 

Anya purred again, practically melting as I manipulated her chest. Briefly, her hands covered mine, causing me to squeeze a little harder. 

"But I also like your stomach," I added, slipping one hand down to her belly, briefly dipping a finger into her navel to cause Anya to giggle quietly. 

"But you apparently REALLY like my chest. You still have a hand kindly groping my breast." 

I dropped my other hand to her thigh. 

"No, no, no!!!" Anya grabbed both my hands and placed them back on her chest, this time inside the open flannel shirt. "That's better!" 

For several long minutes, I lovingly fondled my wife's chest, listening as the sound of her breathing subtly changed in response to my actions. "You chastise me for thinking only of your chest," I finally whispered into her ear, "yet I can tell from the sound of your breathing that you love it when I focus my attention on your chest." 

Anya nodded as she whimpered softly. 

"Wrap your arms back around my neck and keep them there." 

Anya complied, and I felt her fingers intertwine at the back of my neck. This position naturally forced her chest forward, and I took the opportunity to squeeze harder, and even pull at her breasts. My beautiful young wife responded and I had expected, mewing and moaning as she squirmed a little from my slightly-rough treatment of the most visible symbols of her femininity. 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you naughty girl?" I challenged. Anya simply nodded, her breathing heavier and louder now. "You knew that I would ultimately molest you like this when you came into the bedroom, didn't you, you naughty girl?" She nodded again. 

My wife yelped when I slapped a breast; in fact, she practically jumped out of her own skin. But she then quieted considerably, grunting softly as I spanked her chest, purposely avoiding any semblance of a rhythm to keep her guessing and off-balance. Since I was only wearing briefs myself, I knew she was enjoying this erotic play from the moisture seeping through her thong and onto my thighs. 

I lost track of time as I played my wife's breasts as if they were a pair of drums. I varied the force of each strike, generally keeping each strike somewhat soft, but occasionally giving her a hard staccato blow, just so I could enjoy her related slightly-pained vocalizations. 

Eventually, just as suddenly as it had begun, the breast-spanking ultimately ended. Instead, I returned to caressing and hefting and kneading and generally admiring and respecting each feminine protrusion. Slowly, Anya calmed and relaxed, slumping back against my chest. Once again, she purred as I massaged her breasts with all the care and desire and respect and love within me. 

Throughout the entire ordeal, I had been able to essentially ignore my throbbing erection., Anya seemed to finally take notice. 

"Now let me fondle my favorite part of your anatomy," she said with an audible smile.

Chest Stroking Cock Wanking Girl



Note from Author: This audio is between two consenting adults over the age of 18.

This audio is an exploration of your desire for the male chest and how it makes me feel you stroking it. You masturbate me and make me cum, thankyou xx

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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (15.5 min/mp3)

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Chesterbury Tales Pt. 01



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter One: The Theatre Company Manager

'Shit!' Emma swore out loud to herself. She had left the new contract file on her desk at the flat. A file she would need with her in Cambridge. There! That's what comes of letting Rick have an early morning farewell fuck, instead of getting out of bed, she thought, stuffing her arms hurriedly into her coat.

That self-indulgence had delayed her. It meant that she'd had to rush round to get herself ready and pack her case. Still, when she recalled the exquisite pleasure of his Romeo deep inside her Juliet - goodness, she thought, the silly names we give to things - and the satisfying orgasmic relief, she reckoned it was worth the delay. After all, the journey was only about ninety miles so, providing there were no hold ups on the way, she would still get there in good time to meet Jake Castle and his agent by lunch time. And her flat was only a short walk away.

She snatched up her diary and her pen, dropped them into her bag, grabbed her brief case and hurried out of her office, calling to the secretary as she left that she was, finally, on her way. 

'I'll phone in tomorrow and check out with you. Don't forget that message for Douglas.' 

'OK! Have fun!' came from inside the other office.

'I'll try,' she called, hurrying out of the door. Fun! Not very likely, she thought. The touring company had run into a series of problems and she had to rush to Manchester to sort them out. She wasn't sure how Jake Castle would go down with the others actors in the company, either. Still! To hell with them!, she told herself.

She reached the car park to drop the brief case on the passenger seat of her new Capri. From there she walked quickly to her flat, on the first floor of a converted large Victorian house, the erstwhile family home of some lace magnate. Running quickly up the carpeted staircase, she fumbled in her bag for the key and let herself into her lounge. There was the file, on the desk where she had forgotten to pick it up in her hurry to leave for the office. As she took up the folder, she froze. She thought she heard someone crying in her bedroom.

What on earth ...! she muttered to herself. Emma held her breath, straining her ears to listen. Sure enough, the sounds were coming from the bedroom. It sounded like a woman in there, quietly wailing and whimpering. She tiptoed to the door, which wasn't properly closed. Pushing it ajar a few inches she peeped into the room.

Her jaw dropped in astonishment. There, on her bed, the heaving buttocks of Rick were bouncing up and down. He was plunging vigorously between the wide open legs, pointing to the ceiling in a large V, of the groaning woman. Hearing the rhythmic slapping of Rick's balls against the girl's bottom, it crossed Emma's mind that copulation between humans looked ridiculously clumsy when you weren't the one doing it.

'Yes, yes, yes!' The unknown woman was gasping softly but urgently to herself, her legs trembling and sawing the air, her loins bucking wildly and hands clawing at Rick's back.

As his rhythm disintegrated, loins bouncing hard at the hidden thighs, Rick cried out triumphantly 'I come, I come, my heart's delight!' The very expression he had used only four hours earlier when coming into Emma. The file she was holding slipped from her grasp and shuttered to the floor.

Rick turned in sudden surprise. Emma was glaring at him in astonishment and disbelief. As he turned, pulling away from the girl, Emma watched his discharge spurting into the condom, filling its sac. She also saw that the recipient of Rick's heart's delight was one of the new young acting members, Jenny Carver, with her thighs yawning wide, showing wet, tousled, hairy genitals. And on the bedside table Emma saw an empty packet. Her own condoms! For God's sake!

It took a great deal of effort to draw on a composure she certainly didn't feel. There was a short silence.

'Please go, and put my flat key by the phone as you leave.' Emma spoke in her calm, cultured voice as she picked up the file.

She went into the kitchen where she leaned her back against the fridge for support, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The bloody traitor! she thought. The fucking, bloody traitor! Her fury began to rise in her gullet as tears of anger filled her eyes. How dare he? She wiped away the tears of humiliation from her cheeks with the back of her hand with a brusque gesture. 

Then, with a resolute thrust, she pushed herself away from the fridge and stormed back into the lounge to have it out with him, only to see the front door closing behind the disappearing couple.

'You fucking louse!' she yelled as she collapsed into the arm chair, breathing heavily.

Pull yourself together girl, she told herself taking deliberate deep breaths. He's only a stupid actor. It's your own fault for falling for such a corny line. Quotes from Shakespeare, Keats and goodness knows who else besides. She shook her head in disbelief at her gullibility. After all those years of firm self-discipline, to surrender herself to a young Lothario was stupid.

Collecting her thoughts, she went quickly into the bedroom into go through to the bathroom to repair her make-up. The bed-clothes were in a tangle and the sod had even had the bloody cheek to leave the used condom beneath her bed-side lamp. And on top of her new copy of The Clockwork Orange, no less! She lifted the sticky receptacle between forefinger and thumb, held it at arms length, went into the bathroom and dropped it down the lavatory pan. So much for up-and-coming young actors. Sod 'em all! she spat out loud to herself, angrily flushing the handle.

As a final insult, the condom refused to be flushed away the first time, bobbing in the turbulent water as a kind of mockery

Emma left her flat in a confused state of mind. She returned to the car, thinking that it was just as well she was going to be away for a few days. It would give her some time to sort herself out, to decide what attitude to take on her return. She headed out on the A52 worrying that she was going to be late. Well, if she was, Jake Castle would just have to wait, that's all!

Actors spend most of their life waiting, anyway! Waiting at rehearsals, waiting to go on stage, waiting to get another job. Thankfully, though cold, the weather was dry and clear. Even so, she didn't like the look of the clouds gathering ominously to the west. She switched on the car-radio to hear the news and weather forecast.

'Oh, my God! Snow!' she moaned out loud.

As the Senior Company Manager, Emma Shaw was responsible for every member of each production company in the country. She was a brisk - sometimes brusque - well-respected manager, highly intelligent, quick-witted and fiercely efficient. She felt that it was necessary for her to be that much better than her male counterparts if she wanted to maintain her authority over a wide selection of characters, all with their own individual emotions and problems. Women in positions of authority were few and far between. She'd worked hard to get to where she was.

Emma wasn't considered beautiful in the accepted sense, but she had plenty of poise and confidence, with a personality approaching celebrity status. She also had exceptional charm which made everyone she spoke to feel that they were the most interesting person in the world. It helped that she genuinely found people fascinating; they found her equally fascinating. She was never at a loss for words, always able to keep up a conversation with a complete stranger with no sign of embarrassment or hesitation.

Every member of the company was in awe of her. In particular, her peers in management had enormous respect for her total dedication and supreme competence. She was nobody's fool, nor any man's mistress.

Until Rick came along, that is, and swept her off her feet!

Rick had disturbed her stability rather more than she would have cared to admit. She was, for a time, completely infatuated with the young actor. Not a spark of scandal had ever been associated with Emma's name. She had been very careful. In fact, some men had speculated whether or not she was a lesbian. But this was probably because she had often rejected amorous advances from them and it was just their way of retaining some masculine pride.

But she was not a lesbian. She was very fond of men, or more accurately, that central essential part of them. But she did not believe in mixing sex with business. Not any longer. It just wasn't worth the aggro. In truth, she was afraid of becoming involved and the possible loss of her self-control in an amorous affair. It was OK for men in top jobs to fool around - indeed it was almost expected of them - but not for women. Unfair, perhaps, but true!

The brief torrid affair with Rick had proved to her that self-control wasn't always possible. The silly thing was that she could always find a willing virile male body when she felt the need. She was not entirely without the usual feminine attributes.

Her figure was in good shape. Her hair was a genuine blonde colour which she kept swept back, tying it at the nape of her neck to emphasise the shape of her high cheek bones. Her eyes were a light hazel colour, emphasised by the large blue-framed spectacles she wore. Though slightly warped in shape, her nose was well-proportioned. If not exactly beautiful, it was a face full of character.

Emma always took great care with her make-up and dressed unpretentiously but well. Nothing too flashy. With salary-plus-expenses, she could afford simple, fashionable clothes. In every way, Emma was a very sophisticated lady, a resolute feminist who still cared about her appearance, dressing to be as attractive as she could whilst avoiding the over-frivolous.

Driving along, her mind wandered back to Rick. She tried to remember what excuse he had used to invite himself back to her flat for lunch. But she couldn't recall the details. She only remembered that, once inside the door, he had taken her in his arms, telling her that he was enchanted by the softness and secret promise in her hazel eyes. He wanted to gaze deeply into them. His own were a wide bright blue with an ingenuous, appealing quality, looking as though they were about to shed a tear.

The looks, in fact, which had sent millions of housewives mooning over him on his very successful television debut. Rick never looked back!

He cupped her chin in the palm of his left hand and gazed hard at her. Emma was mesmerised.

'I've been watching you all morning in rehearsal, studying your lovely face and soft lips, so ripe for kissing.' And he leaned his face to her, brushing his lips lightly against hers before pressing them firmly together.

She was spellbound by his sudden, intriguing confession, remembering that she had, indeed, been conscious of his eyes fixing on her from time to time whilst she was in the rehearsal room. It had made her feel a little uneasy but flattered.

She remonstrated breathlessly, 'Rick, what on earth ...' But he placed a finger to her lips before pressing his lips to hers again, his finger between them. The kiss was firmer and longer than the first. 

He murmured urgently in her ear. 'Emma, you are true beauty personified. Truly ravishing. Many people told me of your charm and kindness, but no one warned me of your fatal attractiveness.' He looked into her eyes. '"If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say 'This poet lies: such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces." What's more, you smell divine.'

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. 'Clean and fresh!'

She thought he smelt appealing as well!

He drew her closer, inhaling deeply through his nose. She melted in his arms, closing her eyes with a sigh, completely overwhelmed by his expression of admiration, even though it knew it was written by Shakespeare. His tongue sought hers. She made no protest as his hands roamed over her breasts. He unfastened two buttons, pushed the blouse and bra strap from one shoulders, softly caressing the naked swelling orb. 

'"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand and softer breast,"'

His soft voice wooed her as he lifted the breast from its cradle, cupping it in the palm of his hand, rolling his thumb over the inflated nipple. Emma was proud of her teats which, when aroused, swelled up until they resembled chunky chestnuts protruding from the whites of her full breasts. When Rick felt their stunning size and shape he leaned back away from her to unfasten the remaining buttons on her blouse. He slid the garment and bra from the other shoulder, looking down with admiration at her jutting baubles.

'"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower ..."'

Without ending the sentence, he bent his head to take the swollen object of his praise between his lips, suckling it tenderly. Emma was in a daze, still standing there with eyes closed in the middle of her spacious lounge. With guts churning, the juices started to bubble inside her. She felt his fingers unbutton her waistband, pushing her flowered skirt to the floor. Thumbs hooked into the top of her knickers, pushing them down her thighs as he sank to his knees in front of her.

A wisp of warm breath on her lower belly betrayed the closeness of his face to her genitals. A sudden tremor rippled through her loins as his lips disturbed her patch of hair, brushing against her clitoris. The knickers were removed. The tip of Rick's tongue nudged its way under the hood and her legs buckled beneath her, loins juddering with the thrill of sexual arousal. His tongue found her clitoris.

My God! she thought, what am I doing? I hardly know the man! But she did nothing to resist his advances. She thrilled to the touch of his questing tongue teasing her button of ecstasy.

Rick brought Emma to her knees, placing them either side of his thighs, facing him. He took her again in his arms, pressing her to him, murmuring into her ear, in a barely audible voice.

'Emma! You are love's idol made for dalliance and playful delight. Your body is made for adoration and worship. O, let my Romeo worship you with the passion he hungers for.'

He slipped a hand between her thighs to cradle the oozing lips of her vulva whilst the other guided her left hand to his rigid staff protruding from his light cotton trousers. She looked down at his proud hero. A droplet had already formed at its head. Rick noticed her look.

'My Romeo weeps for joy. He searches for his Juliet.' His gasps were rather melodramatic Emma thought, but as their mouths met in another passionate embrace, open-lipped, tongues exploring each other with a yearning for love, she was a slave to her senses.

With an eager movement, she brought her open thighs closer to his lap, pushing her impatient lips towards the object of their desire. Her fingers brought the head of his erect shaft between the lips, holding it in the portals of her shrine. Once there, it paused whilst Emma thrilled in anticipation of the joy to come before sinking onto the staff.

Little by little, she felt the head of Rick's hero press inside, fill her, exploring every warm fold of her inner temple, her citadel of rapture and love.

Emma responded in a hoarse whisper, 'My willing Juliet greets your Romeo, craving his visit. "Oh gentle Romeo! If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully." Let him enter and welcome Juliet's embrace.'

And she squeezed the internal muscles of her vagina to cling to every contour of the welcome intruder, clenching and unclenching them. 

'It fits as perfect as any glove made for love. My Romeo at last has found the elusive Juliet he has sought. Our lovers are united in a tender embrace. Their oily essence mixed to one sweet salve.'

His silky smooth voice made Emma's senses reel. She fell backwards, pulling Rick with her, until she was on her back, open-thighed, with his rigid Romeo filling her aching Juliet.

'Do it beautifully, darling. Do it beautifully,' she implored him urgently.

He slowly withdrew himself, until the bulb was barely held between her clinging lips, before plunging back deep into her. The stiffness slid in and out of her with slow thrusts, savouring each separate stroke. Emma was in bliss, overwhelmed by the joyful feeling in her bursting flesh. This wonderful intruder gave her such delicious sensations within. As he began to gather more pace, the churning inside Emma became more intense. Her senses focused on her very epicentre. The fetters of frustration tightened within as the idol drove into her citadel. The thrusting became more uncontrolled. The tension within her increased.

'Yes, yes!' she groaned. Her breathing became harsher. 'It's coming, coming, coming! Faster, faster! Harder, harder!'

Her voice rose into a hoarse frenzy. Her loins began to jerk and buck. 'You're killing me, Rick. Make me come, make me come!' she begged urgently.

Her senses and thoughts were hammering at the barrier in her groin, shrieking for release, sensations tumbling over each other in their frenzy to burst out. She had no thought for anything or anyone else. Only her own sensual liberation. Romeo was now driving fast and hard, dragging her little hood up and down. Rasping against her sensitive clitoris.

Emma's knees trembled violently; fists beat the floor in wild frustration. Her mind was ready to erupt in her agony. Then, with a mighty wrench, the barrier broke. Sensations exploded in her citadel, washing over every nerve in her body with an enormous feeling of elation.

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When her senses began once again to take in external things, she realised that Rick was gasping hard and grunting. His loins juddered and jerked until, with one huge lunge to a dramatic cry of 'I come, I come my heart's delight,' he ejaculated, washing the walls of her shrine of love with the essence of his testicles. She squeezed her loins hard to siphon out all his seed, sucking it high into her belly.

When Emma regained her breath she was ready for a second dose. One she could enjoy, now that the self-indulgence of the first one was over. She licked his eye-lids and kissed his ears.

'Come to bed!' she said softly and seductively. And they removed their clothes before clambered onto the bed. Emma hinged her thighs wide open to present the opening of her vulva, the blonde curls now tangled with their combined juices. She caressed his back, stroked his bottom, slowly arousing her emotions ready to receive him again. Her hand reached further to cradle his testicles. She was taken aback. What enormous balls!, she thought. They're huge! Absolute whoppers!

'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou?' She whispered.

Rick re-entered Emma's willing body, his thrusting loins soon urging him once again into a strong rhythmic plunging motion.

'The second coming is always better than the first. Let's really enjoy ourselves. Once more unto the breach,' he said. And he looked down to watch his gliding, honey-smeared shaft, slide in and out of Emma's pink flesh.

Each concentrated on the delicious awareness of their united genitals, giving the other delightful sensations throughout the body, until passions began to rise once more. Tensions rose. Loins were flexed. Emma fluttered her fingers on her own clitoris to bring about another overwhelming orgasm.

Rick continued to thrust in and out of her, his massive balls slapping against her bottom, before the inevitable result. With a grunt and a lurch of his hips, he emptied into her a second time to a cry of triumph.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 01



'My God! Look at the time!' Emma gasped breathlessly.

There was some panic in getting Rick back to the rehearsal on time but he made it, leaving Emma lying dazed on the bed.

She was disturbed at the way she'd allowed herself to respond to the rather obvious charms of the young man. In fact she was angry! That's it! she thought. No more! Still, he is rather special, and what woman in the country wouldn't be green with envy!

After a quick shower Emma got back to her office with renewed resistance, to face a barrage of messages. The preparation for a new season was always hectic and it was already half past five when Rick put his head round her door to invite himself to her flat for a cup of tea before getting ready for the evening performance.

She found herself unable to refuse. Her resolve melted at the sound of his voice. After tidying her desk whilst listening to the latest theatrical gossip - there was always plenty of that - she put on her coat and hat and they left together. No sooner had they reached the flat and closed the door behind them, than Rick took her in his arms. He crushed her to him hard in a passionate embrace.

He whispered '"I die as often as from thee I go, Though it be but an hour ago, And lovers' hours be full eternity."'

Emma purred, enthraled at his sound, pressing herself to him as they kissed. She pushed him away. 'But how about that cup of tea?' she asked, taking off her hat and coat, hanging them on the stand.

Rick pressed himself up against her back, sliding his hand up the sides of her skirt, between the cheeks of her bottom, to cup the warm plumpness between her thighs. 'O spray my laughing face with nectar of your honeyed lips and I shall no more succour seek.'

She laughed softly as she leaned her head back into his shoulder, letting him briefly flutter his fingers over her moistening genitals before breaking away and going into the kitchen. Not to be brushed off, Rick followed her in to stand behind her as she prepared the tea-pot, slipping her blouse and bra strap from her shoulders down to the elbows. The tea pot attended to, he turned her around to take her stiffening nipples between his lips, muttering.

'On these fair hills let me batten my dry lips so that I might suck the sweetness from her buds.'

Emma smiled and shrugged off the blouse whilst Rick unbuttoned her skirt. His trousers were the next to go before leaning her back against the edge of the table, plugging the head of his elegant penis into the slippery lips between her thighs. Emma leaned back on her hands, looking down at his intruder. 

Suddenly her passion rose and she felt the irrepressible urge to be fucked hard again. She moaned. 'Give me your Romeo, Rick. I want to feel it. Submerge him deep into his Juliet!'

'"Open the temple gates unto my love, Open them wide that he may enter in."' With a firm lunge he buried himself inside her and fucked her roughly with fast, driving thrusts.

After the theatre performance was over, Rick returned to the flat again. After enjoying a grilled steak, sharing a bottle of claret with Emma, they engaged in a lengthy mutual oral session. He showered her yet again with words of praise about her body, until he spurted into her mouth, hungry for his sperm.

Then he took her again, this time from behind, under the sheets of her bed. Emma was in a delirium of happiness, engulfed by the passion of this young man, ten years her junior, giving her such delight and worshipping her body.

She awoke the next morning to the feel of Rick's morning erection pumping into her. She lay in a warm stupefied state of semi-consciousness whilst the smooth strokes of his penis rubbed against her little bud. He eventually brought about her orgasm. His seed splashed into her hot vagina. More embraces with kisses, fondles and much caressing, kept Rick firm and virile. She took him a second time before they tumbled reluctantly out of the bed.

For a whole week they made love four times every day. The whole of Sunday was spent by them walking around the flat without clothes, nuzzling and licking each other frequently. Emma lost count of her orgasms and, even after a lengthy morning and lunch-time fucking, they continued fondling and playing with each others' bodies for the entire evening culminating in an intense orgasm for Emma, on the rug in front of the fire.

Rick was hungrier for sex that anyone she had ever come across, with a seemingly endless supply of sperm. He was insatiable! Unbelievable! And, oh boy, could he fuck!

After that astonishing week of passionate love, Emma had to go to Cambridge on Friday morning to meet the new actor Jake to take him to Manchester before returning herself to the theatre on Sunday.

Perhaps it was as well for her to have this break from the most sexually active week she had ever known in her life. It had seemed like one continual act of fornication. Her vagina was probably more sensitive than ever with all the activity. It needed some time to recover! Emma had thought herself immune to actors' advances. But goodbye to all that!

After discovering him in bed with that young whore, Emma now realised that Rick had used her to satisfy his own selfish desires. Fuck him! She had now reached the A1 and could put her foot down and enjoy the sporty feel of her new car.

Well, she now would have some time to sort herself out, give herself a good talking to. She wondered how she could possibly have fallen for all that poetic rubbish. But what a seductive voice! And what an innocent youthful expression! Every woman wanted to mother him. Many would willingly open their thighs to him. With Emma, he had clearly used his skilful charms to satisfy his own lust. And what sexual stamina! Inexhaustible! 

As she drove to meet Jake, she sang to herself in a loud voice, 'I'm goin' to wash that man right out of my hair, I'm goin' to wash that man right out of my hair, I'm goin' to wash that man right out of my hair, and send him on his way ...' 

What Emma didn't know, was that Rick had wagered a fiver with a colleague that, despite her reputation, he would get Emma Shaw's knickers off and shag her within a week. After the very first lunch-time encounter with her, Rick had tried to collect his winnings - indeed, he told his friend, since he had shagged her twice, it should be a tenner - but he just wasn't believed. 

Emma Shaw, he was told firmly, just wouldn't do such a thing. Not ever! Never! And in any case, how could he prove it? Word soon got round that the young upstart, Richard Jones, was a conceited, lying braggart, and that his boasts should be taken with a very large grain of salt.

The young, sexy actress Jenny Carver, perhaps, they said. But Emma Shaw? Never!

Emma's reputation had survived.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 02



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter Two : The Travellers Rest Inn

On that same morning, when many couples throughout the country were starting the day with bodies joined together at the groin, Julie awoke slowly with a comforting hand nestling between her warm, damp thighs. She was in her large, mahogany, four-poster bed, its canopy rich in embroidery, complemented by an ornamental velvet valance, and heavy, multi-coloured brocade hangings at each corner, held back with thick cords of golden silk adorned with heavy tassels. Julie was warm and comfortable, snuggling deep under the Swedish duvet with duck-down filling.

The sleeping form of her partner, on his side, was cuddled up into the contours of her back, his torso pressing against the full cheeks of her bottom. She was aware of his stiff morning pride pushed in the crack between them. Reaching between her thighs, her hand lazily explored the body behind her, locating and cradling the soft, hot bag between his legs.

The first memory to surface from her drowsy mind was the exhilarating session of the previous evening when, to conclude a night of private debauchery in the bar-lounge, Robert had taken her long and brutally over the back of an arm chair, spurred on by the other guests.

The young balletic man with the long, elegant cock had just withdrawn from her, unable to hold back his ejaculation long enough. Roger had taken over to finish her off. Julie loved it! She had, earlier, enjoyed flogging the flabby bottom of James, a middle-aged MP, with a leather strap until his cheeks were scarlet, whilst Mary jerked at his penis.

He was squatting on all-fours over Mary, she lying on the carpet, whilst tossing him off vigorously. When it spurted its thick contents all over her breasts, in seven gushes, the guests squealed with delight.

The memory of those encounters had Julie already feeling randy again. That unmistakable dragging ache deep in her secret female passage begged for attention. It often did, for Julie had a powerful appetite for sex. And she enjoyed the feeling of power it gave her over others. Fortunately she had a partner who understood her needs and pandered to them. And in doing so, had created a very lucrative business!

She fondled her damp flesh in the drowsy warmth, squeezing her full breasts and soft limp nipples, her palms gliding over the sensuous texture of the shantung silk nightdress. Her pride and narcissism about her breasts were justified, for they were in excellent shape. Her nipples were long, almost like udders, and relished massage. They had already started to stiffen in response to her own caresses, as she purred at the memory of those long deep thrusts into the clutching flesh of her slippery folds. Julie adored the soothing sensation she got from that private passage tucked away between her thighs. Her cunt!

She adored her cunt! It gave her unlimited joy and pleasure. Some people tried to avoid using that word, thinking it vulgar, but she liked it. Cunt! It was old fashioned and basic, falling easily from the lips. Cunt, cock and fuck expressed Julie's taste for the baser instincts. She thought to herself that there was no other fulfilment - either mental or physical - to compare with fucking as she lovingly fingered the warm, moist pouting lips of her bare cunt, ever willing to be filled to the brim with thick cock.

Julie luxuriated in the quiet contentment feeling herself gave her. Now turned thirty, she hungered for sex more than ever, worshipping the proud, rigid staff of male flesh and, beneath it, that lovely pair of plums in the bag her hand had returned to fondling. Lovely hot prick and squidgy balls! Hmmmm! The bigger the better! She remembered reading recently that the gorilla has the largest balls relative to its weight because the female needed regular fucking when on heat.

If human beings came second in the sex stakes, Julie was among the front of the field. She worshipped her body! She loved to bend over whilst being fucked, watching the proud cock between her thighs, stretching her flesh, pushing aside the heavy, crinkled lips at the entrance to the dark inner folds of her cunt; the dangling balls swinging as the prick slid in and out of the juice. Giving her pleasure. Pleasuring her!

Julie's private reverie was disturbed by the sound of the door opening. She half-opened one eye lazily. Through her eyelashes she saw the familiar bed-side table with its brass lamp and scarlet shade, the small clock showing eight o'clock. A slight gash of light where the brocade curtains joined was the only source of light in the quiet, darkened room. She opened the eye fully, watching Mary approach the bed with a tray of morning tea. Her tall body of perfect shape and poise, glided across the room.

'Mary will satisfy my urges', she thought, easing up her nightdress up to her shoulders as Mary put the tray on the small table before going to the window to open the curtains.

'Good morning, Mary. Have you seen to the guests?' Julie asked quietly.

'Yes. That's all my jobs done for now. For a short while, anyway. Anne's busy in the kitchen, and the tables are laid for breakfast. There's only four people to cater for this morning.' 

Julie smiled at her. 'Come on, then, Mary. You can cater to me. I'm desperate for some attention,' and Julie lifted the corner of the sheet to show her naked breasts and thighs.

Mary chuckled happily as she came to the side of the bed. She saw Julie's protruding nipples were already fully aroused. 'Didn't you get enough last night?'

'Do I ever?'

Mary knelt beside the bed to slide her hand over Julie's thigh above her knee, stroking the warm skin. Straying further up Julie's leg, Mary felt the smoothness of the shaved mound below her belly. The first flutter of excitement rippled in her own gut as she leaned forward to take a long stiff nipple between her lips. Julie let out sigh of pleasure. Although her nipples were large, Mary remembered being taken aback by the giant teats of one of last night's private visitors. What a mouthful they had made! Roger had suckled them eagerly and lustfully to the noisy delight of the lady herself.

Julie gave a slight sudden gasp, mild shock waves rippling through her, followed by a second surge, as Mary's expert fingers found the pleasure-bud above the moist folds of flesh. Dipping between the dark warmth of Julie's thighs, the fingers caressed the tender lips, now oozing with slippery moisture. Half-bending her right knee, Julie raised it to allow Mary's prying fingers easier access to the hairless, fleshy entrance to her wet womanhood.

Robert became half-conscious. He opened an eye to see Mary's lips teasing his wife's right nipple, her hand working under the duvet. Drawing back the covers slowly to expose the impressive cheeks of Julie's well-rounded bottom, Robert reached down to caress them sleepily. Mary's tongue traced a wet passage from the nipple, down Julie's belly until it nudged its way into the top fold of her nether lips to nibble at the little swollen bud. With a whimper of delight, Julie held Mary's head between her hands, pressing it eagerly into her groin.

Applying her mouth and tongue to Julie's luscious flesh, Mary's hand reached through the parted thighs to grasp Robert's stiff shaft, stroking it lightly. Her tongue parted the juicy petals of Julie's vulva, revealing the dark pink warmth of her passage. She drew Robert's cock between the lips, watching the familiar stiff column of flesh stretch and part the pink folds as it sank between them. Julie writhed and whimpered with pleasure as the thick column withdrew again, dragging the sticky crinkled lips with it, before thrusting once more into the yearning gap with strong regular strokes.

The uncovered clitoris was being lashed with Mary's tongue, whilst Robert's powerful thrusts brushed against her cheek. She was getting aroused herself. She felt the honey seeping into her vagina. Reaching up her own skirt with her other hand, her fluttering fingers found the oozing lips. The flesh was still sensitive from last night's buffeting but the lips thrilled to the touch, even so.

Mary reached up to Julie's left breast, rolling the hardened, rubbery, nipple between thumb and fore-finger. The combination of hard flesh driving in and out of her inner warmth, Mary's probing tongue on her clitoris, and the nipple massage, was stirring Julie's lust, bringing it to the boil. The muscles in her groin flexed as the tension rose within her. The thighs rippled and jerked. With a sudden surge Julie came to a screaming climax. It raged throughout her body, her head thrashing on the pillow with a harsh groan.

Robert was now driving hard into her at a faster pace. Muscles in his buttocks tightened. His rhythm faltered. Tighter and tighter. Grunts of agony escaped until, with a flood of relief, his loins bucked erratically at her buttocks. Growling loudly, he pulled his penis out of the warm flesh, transferring it straight into Mary's waiting, open mouth. The seed gushed forth in copious spurts.

This brought about Mary's own quivering climax. She bounced her hips up and down on her fingers impaled within her wetness, holding Robert's thick discharge in her cheeks, still sucking on the shaft, her nose nuzzling Julie's slippery crack. There was an all round sigh of pleasure and relief as their muscles relaxed. Mary slithered up to Julie's face to kiss her lips, allowing Robert's salty juices to dribble into her mouth. The two women's tongues fought for a share of the prize.

'Thanks Mary, that's just what I needed to start the day,' Julie murmured happily.

Robert lazily drew the warm duvet up to his chin. 'Good-morning, Mary, and thanks for the waking service - and the tea.' 

'You're both very welcome!' Mary laughed as she got up to open the curtains. 'It's snowing fairly hard out there. It's piling up and the forecast isn't too good.' She poured out two cups of tea, added milk and put them on the two bedside tables. 'I'd better go and give Anne a hand with the breakfasts. She's on her own and I expect she's wondering where I've got to.'

Julie giggled happily. 'You'd better not tell her where you've been or she'll be jealous!'

After she'd closed the door behind her Julie sighed. 'She's a real treasure that one. We might have to take her in as a junior partner. Or perhaps a sleeping partner!' She laughed.

Julie sat up against the pillow, sipping her tea, looking at the large print on the wall facing her. It showed one of the positions of the Kama Sutra with the man enjoying the congress of a herd of cows, with a woman bent backwards impaled on his lingam whilst he plays with the yoni of four others maidens; two with his fingers and two with his toes. Prints of other positions were to be found in the other bedrooms during these special week-ends. They were, of course, replaced with landscapes during normal business.

Mary had worked at the Travellers' Rest Inn for the best part of three years, since she was eighteen years old. For much of that time she had indulged in the erotic activities of the owners, Julie and Robert. An intelligent girl, Mary had a wide range of interests, but an insatiable sexual appetite to match that of Julie. She found her work at the Travellers' Rest offered plenty of opportunity to satisfy her sexual hunger, besides paying well.

She didn't normally do the morning tea round. She was more usually to be found behind the bar during the evening, with little to hide her natural charms, with their pert, puckered nipples. Indeed, there were times when the heat of the bar lounge forced her to work entirely topless, to the delight of the patrons.

Mary might also be seen doing a strip-tease on certain evenings. Her bouncing breasts and rotating tassels, with writhing hips, would mesmerise the guests, men and women alike. The small dance floor was specially lit with carefully placed spot lights for such entertainment. The guests would gaze wistfully through the blue haze of tobacco smoke at the carefully coiffured covering of light pubic hair, shaped to accentuate the swollen pad between her permanently parted thighs. Even when her legs were together, there remained a small gap at the join showing puckered brown-pink lips peeking through the golden curls.

Julie and Robert took good care of Mary and several of the well-heeled guests made sure that Mary got good bonuses for her excesses.

But on this particular morning the room maid hadn't turned in because of the bad weather. Mary, who lived in at the hotel most of the time, had substituted for her. Robert switched on the bedside radio to catch the latest weather forecast. Sure enough there were snow warnings and heavy falls were expected over high ground which probably meant them.

The Travellers' Rest was a seventeenth century building, having been extended from time to time to provide additional comfortable accommodation. It was situated on a secondary road leading up to the moors in the heart of England, some four miles or so from the nearest town. It was often used as a short cut from East to West and vice versa to avoid the more circuitous major route whilst offering superb scenery. There had been talk of building new motorways but that would probably be some time off. The M1 was still incomplete, so traffic was likely to get snarled up if this weather continued.

The eight guest bedrooms of the Travellers' Rest were luxuriously appointed with modern en-suite facilities. All of them had king-sized four-poster beds, beautifully curtained and sumptuously fitted. There was excellent fishing down by the river and, during the season, some grouse shooting. Good fell-walking was also there for the energetic.

Robert and Julie did a good trade with wealthy, middle-class clients. Several upper-class clients as well! The private club they had developed with great care and discretion over the years catered for the sexually liberated. They met during very special week-ends for couples seeking something rather more exciting than fishing and shooting - for those whose enjoyment came from pleasures of the flesh. Besides occasional evenings, Robert and Julie arranged six of these week-ends each year for carefully vetted clients who could afford such excesses.

Altogether, they had a clientele of around two dozen couples, mixing their invitations to avoid too frequent repetition of the same people. This ensured continued variety and interest. After the recent Profumo affair, the need for special security was paramount. This particular week-end was intended to be one of those occasion, but it was beginning to look as though it would be a non-event if the weather didn't improve.

One of the week-end couples, Laurie and Enid, had already spent the previous night at the inn, but the other seven may have difficulty getting through. Ah well! Time would tell.

By the time Robert came down for breakfast one of the couples from the previous evening, though not involved in the week-end of pleasure, had already settled their bill and left. They had been assured by the AA that the road into Shropshire was still open. Robert was relieved. Martin and Delia had phoned to say that they would leave early and expected to be with them before lunch.

Mary was chatting and laughing with the second couple over a cup of coffee remembering the merrier moments of the previous night. Enid, a small, very beautiful lady, was dressed in a smart tweed suit with her fair hair combed back and tied into a bun. She wore tortoise-shell spectacles on a slightly pinched nose, looking for all the world like a prim school mistress of the Miss Brodie sort. In fact she was the managing director of a special consultancy organisation, enjoying a long week-end.

Her husband, Laurie, was well built, with thinning hair brushed straight back from the forehead. He wore a Vyella check shirt and woollen tie with diamond pattered socks and brown brogue shoes. He didn't look the least bit like a cabinet minister, but he was. Not, however, in one of the great departments of state.

'What on earth did you put in those drinks last night?' Enid asked Mary. 'I must have been well away.' A flush spread across her tight cheeks, her pale grey eyes had a rueful look, and her thin lips compressed. 'To squat down on the bar and pee into a glass. I must say!'

Mary laughed. To look at Enid, she thought, no one would ever suspect her capable of doing such a thing - certainly not into a wine glass! 'The men do so enjoy watching a woman pee, though I can't think why. They couldn't get close enough to you last night and that thin chap, Andrew - he was the one standing behind you - actually trickled it through his fingers.'

Laurie roared with laughter at the memory. 'Your party piece with the banana was the high-light of the evening, though. I made sure last night that I had the last bite.'

His wife nudged him with a laugh. 'You dirty devil!' she scolded. 'You'd already had a double helping of sweet at dinner!' There was more laughter.

'I've been doing that trick for a good many years now. It always brings the house down.'

'And the men's cocks up,' Enid added. 'Particularly our local MP's last night!'

'Who were those two young ones? Such a tall, elegant lady. Both had beautiful bodies. Their naked tango was terrific. Not a hair on either body - well, except for the head. We were all treated to ample crotch watching. Not a soft prick in the house!'

'Nor a dry fanny!'

'Hers certainly wasn't! It was almost dripping with honey! Thought he'd screw her there and then.'

'It was a very elegant penis, wasn't it? I suppose it looked longer with him being shaved. Like Robert's.'

'I was surprised when she lay down on her back and brought her legs right over her head. I thought she was just wanting to expose her bare open vulva. Then, when she started licking her own fanny... well! Extraordinary party piece!'

'And her partner just as supple, getting his head between his bent knees to suck his own cock.'

'But he didn't seem to mind when John couldn't resist any longer from stuffing his curious misshapen cock into the girl as she licked her own clit.'

'Well, her young man repaid by taking Julie before Roger gave us his finale! Screwing Julie to the sound and beat of the Beatles!'

Roger joined them just then to explain that they may be facing being snowed in for a good while so, if they wished to get away before they were trapped or make any personal arrangements, then they should go ahead.

'Nothing to go home for, old boy. No meetings.' Laurie said. 'May as well make the most of it, eh?'

Another couple expected was their good friend Bill - a young Viscount after his father's untimely death in a recent air disaster - and one of his models, Gertie. They had only a few miles to drive from his stately home. They would almost certainly make it. Still, he would ring Bill to suggest an early start.

As the morning wore on it was looking worse. Robert asked the cook, Anne, if she would be prepared to stay over if necessary. She always kept spare clothing at the hotel in case of emergencies. She made a phone call to her sister to explain the arrangement. 

Anne was a well-preserved, childless war widow of thirty-eight, a willing accomplice to their special entertainment, though she preferred not to get involved in some of the more outrageous events. Serving topless was fun for her because she was proud of her unsullied breasts, pale and full, topped with dark nipples.

During the remainder of the day the hotel prepared for the week-end visitors. Immodest pictures were hung on walls, large photographs showing couples in various coital positions adorning the dining room walls, with some of Rowlandson's lewder prints in the lounge, with illustrations from the Kama Sutra in the bedrooms. By the end of the afternoon, the hotel resembled an exhibition of erotic art.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 02



The stage was set for a week-end of sexual adventure.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 03



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter Three : The Partners Arrive

By the time the evening came at the 'Travellers' Rest', only four couples were there, Susan and George being the last of them. Three other couples had phoned to make their apologies. However, it would still be a cosy gathering, even though the main organiser of these special week-ends was one of those unable to make it.

The guests always dressed for dinner on these occasions, grouping themselves round the blazing log fires at each end of the room. There was a snug feeling of contentment amongst the guests as they sat nursing their cocktails, reminiscing about snow storms of earlier years. Although the Profumo affair was mentioned in passing, it was not considered polite to enquire into any detail in the presence of the minister.

It had already turned dark outside, the snow driving into deep drifts. Talk turned to the winter of '47, when the door suddenly burst open. Two snow covered figures were silhouetted on the threshold, snow flakes whirling in behind them.

Robert leapt to his feet. 'My God! Nanook of the North! Come to the fire for goodness sake and get warm.'

He closed the door before helping the couple off with their snow-caked outer clothes. Whilst removing her coat, Robert took a good look at the lady. 

'A shapely woman,' he thought. It must, however, be said that Robert's first reflection on meeting any woman for the first time was to speculate what her naked body would be like; the shape of her breasts and thighs. A close study her face, the mouth in particular, might give a clue to the shape and size of her vulva. This one was wide and full. Robert wondered if the lady enjoyed a good fuck.

'They usually do,' he thought, 'though not always.' Robert was always willing to oblige anything feminine between the ages of sixteen and sixty. 'Not a great beauty, perhaps, but otherwise ...!'

'Thank goodness we made it.' She shivered, interrupting his thoughts as she struggled out of her coat. 'I'm afraid the car got stuck about half a mile from here and I vaguely remembered there being a village somewhere round here.'

Mary took her coat, eyeing her up and down as the visitor shook her hair loose.

'Ah!,' Robert warned, 'that's another mile up the road. You'd never have made it. Not in this weather. Where are you making for?'

Jake handed his outer coat and hat also to Mary with a smile of approval, which she returned as their eyes met and held each other for a moment. There was promise in both their eyes.

'I think I'd better introduce myself. I'm Emma Shaw and this is Jake Castle. I'm the company manager of a touring theatre company and Jake is one of our actors. I was supposed to take him to join the company for tonight's performance in Manchester. May I use you 'phone please? They'll be wondering what's happened to us.'

'Certainly,' he said taking her hand. 'I'm Robert, your host. I'll show you where the phone is.'

Before Emma made her call, she was assured that rooms were available for them both because of cancellations. She and Jake were welcome to them. Julie was brought in to meet the new guests. An immediate jolt stabbed her in her gut as she took Jake's hand.

'A black stallion,' she thought! 'I shall enjoy riding him!'

In the same way that Robert speculated about women, Julie's first thought when meeting a new man was to speculate on his physical attributes. The size, texture and hardness of his prick; how he performed in the fucking department. Whilst Julie was scheming how to get Jake into her bed, Emma was busy telephoning the theatre. Robert was working out how to get the overnight cases from the abandoned car. He asked Jake if he was able to use snow shoes.

'It so happens that, in spite of my colour, I am quite a good skier. I had to learn to move around in deep snow for an adventure film I was in a couple of years ago.'

Jake was a milk-chocolate coloured young man of South African origin, with a powerful physique. He had an open, friendly smile, with smoky dark eyes, close-cropped curly hair and a firm jaw. Robert asked Mary to pour stiff brandies for the newcomers, saying he would change into some suitable clothing so that they could get into the snow skis and rescue the baggage from the car.

Having spoken to the stage manager of the company in Manchester, Emma came back from the reception desk, settled by the fire with the large brandy, and looked around. It was cosy and comfortable. She was slightly taken aback by the subject matter of the Rowlandson prints, but made no outward reaction to them, smiling at Robert with tired eyes. Her eyes glanced down at his crotch, her idle imagination speculating what might be hidden there.

Robert noticed her quick glance. He interrupted her thoughts. 'Come! Let me introduce the other guests. This is Enid and this, Laurie.'

The prim, rather stiff couple, said Hello! to Emma and Jake. Enid, small, very beautiful in a doll-like way behind those unflattering spectacles which only served to accentuate the daintiness of her features, smiled warmly. Emma thought she recognised Laurie. He looked familiar to her. She was sure that she had seen him before somewhere but hadn't time to think about it before she and Jake were introduced to the others.

Delia and Martin, a quiet fair haired man with good strong features, large blue eyes, straight nose and square chin. Average of build he was not yet running to fat and was very handsome. He had a quiet, confident air about him. Emma was surprised to see Delia. A popular TV presenter, she was a willowy blonde with features not unlike Marilyn Monroe. Mysterious blue eyes, a generous sensuous mouth and pointed chin. She held her head high with a tendency to look down her nose with a slightly dignified air.

Later, Emma would be impressed by Delia's poise and dignity off screen. But right now, her generous bust was shown to full advantage in an exquisite dress. 

'It must have cost a packet,' she thought. She would learn later that Martin was the marketing director for a large international food manufacturer, whilst Delia was the second daughter of a Earl. Both smiled sweetly at Emma and Jake.

Susan was an irrepressibly jolly lady, full of bounce and laughter, with long, red, almost copper-coloured hair flowing down to her shoulders. She had green eyes and a small upturned nose, set in a round face. Julie recognised her as the new best-selling writer. Her husband, George, was confidently attractive, with brown eyes that twinkled at her and a soft seductive voice. They looked to be in their late-thirties, Emma thought. The last couple to be introduced were Bill and Gertie.

'He looks very much like the famous fashion designer,' Emma thought. He smiled at her warmly, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. He wore an elegant, midnight blue dinner suit, was very suave, well-built and fairly tall. Emma thought him very good-looking with his tanned face and thick curly fair hair. She felt a spark of magnetism flash between them.

His partner, Gertie had a flawless, olive skin with a healthy sheen. A strikingly beautiful face, with large, innocent dark brown eyes set wide apart a straight nose. The lady's mouth was wide with exquisite lips above a small pointed chin. Her black glossy hair was tied back in a simple pony-tail. Emma thought there could be some Polynesian blood in her. She wore a long flowered evening dress, low cut to promise firm pointed breasts showing a mole on the right one. Her narrow waist gave her figure an hour-glass shape with long, shapely legs.

The host, Robert, was well-tanned with curly auburn hair and a thin moustache.

'He does rather look like Clarke Gable,' Emma thought.

The hostess, Julie, was also well-tanned, suggesting that there was a sun-bed in regular use. She looked seductive and sexy in a slinky, copper-coloured, long satin dress to complement her shoulder-length, dark-auburn tresses. The gleam in her eyes, as she smiled up at Jake, revealed her inner excitement.

Introductions over, Emma apologised for interrupting their party.

'It's obviously a special affair. Everyone looks so formal and elegant.'

Julie laughed. 'Not really. It's tasteful to dress properly for dinner from time to time. We always do it on these occasions. I'm sure I can find an evening gown for you to wear at dinner. It's as well to be like the rest of us, then you won't feel out of place. I'll look some things out for you and leave them on your bed whilst you have a hot bath. I'm sure you're ready for one. And I'm sure Robert can find a dinner suit which should fit Jake fairly well.'

Julie took Emma to her room. Here again, she was bemused by the large picture illustrating a Kama Sutra couple both of whom looked completely unmoved by their coital position, which didn't surprise Emma since it looked to her rather uncomfortable, if not impossible.

The accommodation impressed her and, whilst the baggage was being collected by Robert and Jake, she ran a hot foam bath. At the side of the wash basin she noticed an upright black plastic penis on a base of generous testicles. She smiled as she picked it up to find that it was a liquid soap dispenser. Pointing it into the palm of her other hand, she squeezed the testicles to squirt a jet of white soap from the head. She laughed to herself with a twinge of arousal at the thought it provoked.

After the stress of the difficult journey through the blizzard, together with the worry of not getting Jake to the theatre for the evening performance, now thankfully cancelled due to the weather, a soak in a hot bath was a luxury. The warmth permeating her body, helped her to relax the tension in mind and limbs.

But, once again, Rick intruded into her thoughts. She cursed herself for getting involved with him. He was a fine actor with a bewitching, mellow voice and an attractive, innocent personality. It was a lethal combination, which she supposed is what she fell for. She couldn't deny having enjoyed the sex. But to disgrace her bed - their bed - by fucking that silly young Jenny Carver on it was unforgivable.

Emma closed her eyes to let the luxury of the hot water seep through her. Her thoughts recalled that evening of surprises, when she was home from college earlier than expected for Christmas. Her mother had always been a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky lady. As a leading light in the local operatic society, her charms were admired by all the men; old and young alike!

As a young girl, Emma had often sat on the edge of her parents' bed, watching her mother dress to go out for the evening to the theatre. She envied her those gorgeous creamy breasts, with saucer-shaped summits. They were carefully positioned in the white bra cups, one at a time. Then she would step into her silk, pastel-coloured French knickers, before pulling on an under-slip.

Well, now Emma had creamy breasts of her own. In the warm bath, her hand slipped unthinkingly between her thighs, prodding its forefinger under the little hood to caress her clitoris. In times of stress and tension Emma found that massaging her tender button relaxed her, both in mind and body. 

Her mind went back to the evening she stumbled on the sexual activities of parents. She recalled the scene. For some reason she couldn't now remember, Emma was in their darkened lounge as a car drew into the drive before the front door. Its lights were extinguished and the engine turned off. The lamp over the front door illuminated her mother being embraced by a man Emma didn't recognise.

Slumped back in the passenger seat with her companion, whose hand was down the top of her dress, fondling her mother's soft breast and kissing her scarlet mouth. Emma couldn't make out what her mother's hand was doing in her companion's lap; to her astonishment, she realised it was stroking the man's cock!

After a few moments, head-lights of another car swung into the drive. Her mother and the driver quickly got out of the car, slamming the doors shut. She didn't know why, but Emma didn't wish to be found at home just yet. She felt to be an intruder. Running swiftly to the top of the darkened staircase in her bare feet, she leaned over the banister, straining her ears.

The front door opened; some urgent whispers before her mother's rippling laugh called out a welcome to more people tumbling from the cars arriving in the drive. Lots of laughter as several people stumbled into the hall. They took off hats and coats, handing over bottles of beer and wine. The whiff of cool air and cigar smoke reached Emma on the landing.

From the refuge of her bedroom, Emma had often listened to the sound of the parties below. Laughter and songs as doors opened and closed. Her bedroom was at the end of the upper landing, just beyond the bathroom. She usually drifted off to sleep without difficulty. But, that night, the image of her mother being kissed, her breast fondled by a stranger, kept her mind in a whirl.

She was still trying to work it all out in her head, when she was startled by low voices outside her door. Emma was so deep in thought, she hadn't heard anyone coming up the staircase. Was she dreaming?

'No, Joe! What if someone comes?' A breathless low voice.

'We'll hear them coming. If they do, you just go down the stairs and I'll nip into the bathroom.' A man's whisper.

A gasp. 'Oh, you beast! If you keep touching me like that, I'll ...' But Emma never heard what the outcome of being touched like that would be. The voice tailed off into a long sigh amidst the rustling of taffeta.

'Just open your legs, darling; just for a minute.' Joe's voice was distinctly begging. 'You shouldn't have turned me on in the car, you prick teaser!'

'No!' A warning whisper. 'We mustn't! I'm longing for it myself, Joe, but...' And there was another sigh and rustling of taffeta.

'These are very accommodating knickers.'

Emma had her ear against the door by this time, listening avidly to the hushed exchange. Just to the left of Emma's door, on this side of the bathroom, there was a deep storage alcove. It was a good hide-away. She assumed that's where they were.

A sigh. 'Ooh! When you touch me there... Gosh! Shall we go into the bedroom? Then I can feel you more easily?'

'Too risky. No escape route.'

'Hurry, then, Joe. But let me feel it first. Gosh! I'd forgotten how long it is. Ooh! Go on! Put it in!'

'Wait! I want a good feel of your fanny, first. Your gorgeous, wet, slippery fanny.' Stifled grunts, moans and groans.

'Do it now! I can't wait, Joe. Put it in now! Please!'

A pause. A rustle. A sigh.

'Ooh, yes! It's in! That's great.' Joe's soft voice.

All this passed to the background of laughter and music from below. The heavy rhythmic panting went on.

'You're fantastic, Jane!'

Emma's realised with a sudden blow that it was her mother out there!

'Humph! Humph! Humph! Humph! You're soaking wet! Can I get one of your tits out? Let's suckle a nipple!'

'S-h-h-h! Not so loud.' More heavy breathing. 'Come on Joe! Quick! I'm ready. I'm coming! Ah-h-h-h-h!' A long strangled sigh.

'Argh!' A gruff muffled cry. 

'Ah, uh -uh -uh -uh!' Her mother's quick staccato grunts reminded Emma of her own orgastic choking sounds under the sheets of her bed.

A swish of clothes. The door to the bathroom opened and closed. Silence!

Holding her breath, Emma turned the handle and eased her door open with the slightest of gaps. She peered through at the bathroom door. She listened, agog. After the toilet flushed the bathroom door opened and, sure enough, her mother emerged, smoothing down her dress as she went to the half-landing. She paused there to take a deep breath before going back down the stairs.

It seemed like ages before Emma heard another person coming up the stairs. It was her smiling auntie Julie, giggling softly, looking unsteady, holding on to the banister rail. She disappeared into the bathroom. After about half a minute, the sound of someone else coming up the stairs. As they turned onto the upper landing she saw that was her father!

To Emma's amazement, he unbuttoned the flies of his trousers as he silently approached the bathroom door. He gave it one light tap. A second's pause. The door opened. Auntie Julie stepped out, threw her arms round her father, kissing him hard. He pushed her against the banister, dragging the hem of her dress up. There was plenty of light spilling from the bathroom for Emma to notice that her aunt was not wearing knickers just as her father took his stiff shaft in one hand, stuffing it between the bare thighs. Emma didn't get a proper look. It was covered by his hand. But it sank immediately between her aunt's hairy gash as her knees folded wide open. She pulled aside the top of her dress, exposing her bare breasts.

'Kiss them! James! Ooh!' Deep breaths. 'You've got a wonderful cock. Give it to me fast and hard!'

With wide, unbelieving eyes, Emma watched as her father fastened his mouth on one of the drooping breasts - smaller and less firm than her mother's - his hips bucking heavily against her aunt's half-slumped body, dress tucked up round her waist. Apart from the occasional mutter of 'Yes! Yes!' from her Aunt, neither said anything, but sighed and whimpered and gasped and grunted.

Her Aunt's thighs pushed forward to meet his thrusts. After about three minutes, her father's hips lurched erratically with violent thrusts. A sigh of relief. Emma watched the bodies part and she looked in awe as the glistening shaft emerged. They kissed quickly before her father slipped into the bathroom whilst her aunt smoothed her dress on her way downstairs.

Emma was dumbfounded by these revelations. Unable to sleep, she heard the guests depart. Cars drove away down the gravel. Shortly afterwards, her parents stumbled up the staircase, laughing softly. Applying an eye to the crack in her door, Emma watched them sway onto the upper landing. Their bedroom was opposite the bathroom. Her mother was giggling uncontrollably, her father chuckling.

Her mother's dress was pulled up at the back, her father tugging at something, whilst she kept trying to knock his hands away. They staggered into the bedroom. There was the sound of the springs as something fell on the bed. Then her mother's subdued rippling laughter and father's chuckle.

'Come on, Jane, let's get you out of these clothes. You drunken whore!' His voice was subdued.

Sounds of a struggle and laughter. Rustling, a slapping sound, more laughter.

A fierce whisper. 'You beast! Get off! I'm tired James. Wait until the morning? Let me get into bed.'

'No! Besides, you're only teasing. You've been teasing me all evening, flashing your tits at the men. I thought old Ken would have a heart attack when you flaunted your cleavage under his face. He was itching to see those nipples. And I could see Joe's prick like a tent pole! You randy whore! Open your legs!'

'Oh, James! No, don't! You can't lick it tonight.' Sounds of a light struggle. 'No!'

'Come on! You'll love it, darling! You always do.' A short silence.

A sigh. 'Mmmmmm! I do love it James, but you're a beast. You know I can't resist that. Ooh! Aaah!'

'You taste salty tonight darling,' her father muttered. 'Whose sperm is that I can taste? Bet it's Joe's?'

With her heart in her mouth, Emma had opened her door and slipped quietly on to the landing. Her parent's door was open. So eager was her father to get her mother onto the bed, he hadn't bothered to close it yet. A bedside lamp was lit at her mother's side. It had been left on all the evening.

In the triple mirror of the dressing table in front of their window, Emma could see her father kneeling at the foot of the bed, his head buried between her mother's wide-open thighs. The legs were still encased in silk stockings, though the suspenders were unfastened.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 03



The movement of his head suggested that he was licking her vulva. Sighs of contentment from her mother told Emma that she was obviously enjoying it. The sighs became more vocal and her mother's hips began to tremble and lurch as her father held on to her thighs. His head bounced with more vigour.

Finally, with a sigh, her mother's body relaxed. Her father stood. Taking hold of her mother's shoulders, he lifted her to a sitting position against him. Through the mirror, Emma watched her father thrust his thick penis between the smudged scarlet lips of her mother's mouth. For some minutes, her mother sucked and licked at it lovingly, whilst her father cradled her head towards his groin, with his own head thrown backwards, eyes closed. Murmurs of pleasure escaped him. 

'You taste fishy!' her mother whispered with a mocking tone. 'Whose juice is that? Is it Julie's?'

When the cheeks of his bottom started to clench, her father gently pushed her mother back onto the bed, pulled her waist forward to the bottom edge, before kneeling between the gaping thighs, slowly sinking his hard penis deep into the secret, dark gap.

During the succeeding pumping movement, both were clearly enjoying the relaxed action with the occasional murmur and squeal. Then, to Emma's astonishment, she heard her mother's soft whisper.

'Did you manage to get into Julie's knickers tonight, darling? Was that Julie I could taste?' There was a pause in the movement of her father's loins. He chuckled.

'No!' he said. 'I didn't get into her knickers. She wasn't wearing any.'

Her mother laughed softly. 'The wanton hussy!'

'But we managed a quicky. And you?'

There was a longer pause whilst her mother purred. Her father resumed his regular rhythm, sliding in and out of her mother's gap.

'Poor Julie!' A pause. 'I just couldn't get rid of Joe. He started feeling me up in the car and was groping me all evening. You were right. His prick was like a tent pole. Embarrassing, really. So I brought him up here on the landing for a few minutes to dampen his ardour. It wasn't very good, though. Too rushed. But it lowered the pole. Was yours exciting?'

'Not really. Julie was so frustrated, she came as soon as I got it in. Then she got worried!'

A pause whilst the regular thrust of his loins continued. By this time, they were both getting more excited and intense. Her mother's arms were round her father's waist, pulling him into her. She was gasping. 'Give me more. Come on! Deeper! Harder!' Her father's movement got more violent, the strokes lengthened.

'Your Julie has a very wet pussy, though,' her father gasped softly, as his exertions increased. 'But not as syrupy and juicy as yours. Doesn't have your grip, either.'

'Beast!' she hissed, her loins now heaving back at him, butting against his thrusts.

'What about Joe's?'

'Mind your own business!'

They began to shake and tremble. And her mother began lashing her body around on the bed, wailing quietly. Her father's buttocks gave a huge heave. Then a succession of short jabs accompanied by gruff grunts.

Emma returned to her room a much more educated young lady than she was before! After that evening, she witnessed several amorous encounters at parties, though hot at home! Emma had always been ashamed of her masturbation, thinking her sex drive was something of a freak. Until now, that is!

By this point in her recollections, Emma's fingers had encouraged tingling ripples through her groin. She had brought herself to the boil with her memories. She closed her eyes to capture the images. Her fingers worked faster. She speculated on what Bill was hiding between his legs, but before she could bring that fantasy into focus, the muscles in her groin clenched, her loins trembled as she swiftly reached the peak of a pacifying orgasm. Her body sank back into the warm suds with a sigh.

Emma found the dress left by Julie to be a reasonably good fit. It was a very beautiful shot-silk number, though a little tight round the waist and large round the bust, showing rather more of her breasts than she thought prudent. She pinned the fine silk lace stole at her neck with an Edwardian cameo brooch which had in her jewel case. It had belonged to her grandmother. After arranging her hair carefully she applied a simple make-up before going down to the lounge. She felt much fresher. More attractive. The rest of the company were enjoying a cocktail before dinner.

When Emma appeared, Jake was already over by the far fire, looking very smart in his dinner suit and black bow-tie, already being entertained by the host and hostess - particularly the hostess who was laughing rather effusively. The velvet gown she wore displayed her creamy-white shoulders and the swell of her ample breasts. A suggestion of the areola showed but failed to show the nipples them-selves. Noticing Emma's appearance on the staircase, Robert excused himself to come forward with a big appreciative smile to greet her. 

'She looks ravishing,' he thought. 'I really must get my prick in there before she leaves.'

Others turned their heads to acknowledge her entrance. Emma felt rather grand, making an entrance down the central staircase. So, in the manner of an actress, she paused on the turn in the staircase to strike a brief pose. The guests were clearly impressed.

'What can I get you to drink, Emma? G and T? Martini?' Robert ushered her to the bar where Mary was serving.

'You're very kind. A gin and tonic with a splash of Italian would be super.'

'Emma, you look ravishing. The dress might have been made specially for you. Fortunately, Jake is more or less my own size.'

Mary smiled as she handed her the Waterford cut-glass goblet and a bottle of bubbling tonic water. 'Gin and Italian it is! Help yourself to the tonic.'

Robert looked at her thoughtfully for a moment whilst sipping her cocktail. 'Emma,' he leaned an elbow on the bar. 'I thought I should have a quiet word with you about the guests before we go in for dinner. You may have already recognised the faces of one or two of them. They are here to enjoy a private week-end together incognito, for a free sexy time. Normally, of course, there would be no strangers amongst us, so I would like to be sure of your absolute discretion and that of Jake. We certainly do not want a repetition of the Profumo scandal.'

'Have you spoken to Jake about this?' Emma asked.

'No, not yet. I thought I would mention it to you first, though Julie's probably saying something to him right now, I expect.'

'Good! Well, you can rely absolutely on my discretion, Robert. In my job I have to keep more secrets about famous entertainers than anyone has the right to know. The 'News of the World' would make me extremely rich if I spilt the beans! As for Jake, he's only recently arrived from South Africa, so he won't know any of your guests. Even so, I shall speak to him.'

Robert smiled with an audible sigh of relief. 'Ah! Thank you, Emma. You see, this is one place where these high-society people can really let their hair down without fear of discovery. Only the most scrupulously vetted people are invited. They share the same philosophy of freedom of the spirit and body. The body in particular! 

'It's not exactly a cult but it owes something to the school of Tantrism which believes that God is not to be found by shutting oneself away from the world, but through the pleasures of making love. Well, it's rather more than that, obviously. Indeed, it's a great deal more than that, but you may see and hear some rather unusual happenings. If you're offended, please say so, and we'll make our activities as discreet as possible. There is a television lounge which is nice and quiet if you prefer to sit out.'

Emma laughed lightly. 'I've seen some fairly immodest happenings in my time, Robert, and attended my share of sex parties. So, I'm not easily offended. In fact, I might be tempted to join in! And I think you'll find that Jake has experience of working in sex clubs in South Africa. So he's no stranger to the erotic. What they get up to in South African clubs is nobody's business! We'll play it by ear!'

'That's great! Come on, then, we'll join the others.' And Robert took her by the elbow, steering her to the fireplace. Julie explained that she had already briefed Jake about the 

party and that there were no obstacles. 

'Sounds thrilling,' Jake smiled. 'But Mum's definitely the word. I understand.'

Robert turned to the other guests. 'May I have your attention for a moment before going in to dinner? I have explained our predicament to Jake and Emma. I think I can assure you of their cooperation and absolute discretion.'

There were murmurs of approval and relief.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 04



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter Four : The Host's Tale

Emma and Jake shared a table with Julie and Robert, finding them entertaining company, enjoying an excellent meal with a cool bottle of Pouily Fuisse with the fish, and a smooth vintage beaujolais with the pheasant. Noticing Emma looking at the photographs on the walls, Robert explained that they were studies by Bill.

'We display erotic pictures of explicit sex for our guests, to stimulate discussion and put them into the mood for an uninhibited week-end. And it looks as though Susan's already lost hers '

Susan had broken into a loud, coarse laugh. The others turned to watch as she dipped her hand down the top of her dress, hooked the palm of her left hand under her right breast, and heaved it free from her gown, tipped with a hard, thimble-shaped nipple. 'How about that, then?' she asked.

'Beautiful darling ' Martin cried, 'absolutely superb ' Susan bent over her goblet of red wine, dipping the nipple in the ruby liquid before offering it to Martin.

'Have a taste.'

He promptly leaned over to take the dripping nipple between his lips. To Emma's surprise, the beautiful, sophisticated Delia, sitting opposite Susan, who had been the one to badger her into this display, laughed gaily.

'Here, George What do you think of this, then?' she asked. She hoisted a large milky-white breast from the top of her gown. 'They're far more sumptuous than Susan's, don't you think?'

George peered closely at the proffered breast. 'Stand up the two of you, and let's have a proper look.'

George and Martin helped the ladies out of their chairs. They stood side by side, unhooked the bodices of their gowns, allowing the breasts to swing free. Susan's were long and pointed, with a faint tracery of light blue veins, tipped by pink, pimpled areola around brown thimble-shaped nipples.

Delia, on the other hand, had large heavy breasts, sagging slightly under the weight. They were almost as white as alabaster, with flat, pebble-shaped, stiff nipples surrounded by pale areola. The ladies thrust their chests forward and shoulders back to emphasise the fullness of their breasts.

The men looked with mock concentration at the two ladies, each taking their time, weighing with both hands the breasts of first one, then the other lady. They stood back, whispering seriously to each other. The remaining guests laughed, offering words of flattery to the two ladies.

Martin and George then turned to face the ladies. George was the spokesman. 'We think that both pairs are perfect specimens of female charm. We have concluded that to compare them with each other would be meaningless. So, let's just say that they are different - thank God - but equally delightful.'

Martin nodded his agreement. 'Absolutely '

The whole company applauded, the two ladies kissed each other's cheek before the men assisted them in returning their breasts into their bodices, but not without a some squeezing and shameless fondling of the supple, soft flesh. Julie called for attention. 'We thought it would be rather fun, since we're to be imprisoned together for rather longer than we expected, to have a story-telling week-end. It's not absolutely imperative for you to tell a story, and nobody expects you all to be a Chaucer. This is hardly Canterbury Tales, but if you can join in the spirit of the thing, don't feel embarrassed. But of course, if you do tell a story, it is expected to be on the sexy side. In fact the sexier the better. And if the stories encourage you to act out your fantasies, feel free. We'll enjoy watching, or even participating. But for anyone with objections to a little exhibitionism, we won't mind them slipping off to bed if things get too embarrassing for them.'

There was a general ripple of laughter and comment.

'Embarrassing? Absurd ' said one with a chuckle.

'We're all good friends I hope,' said another.

'Let's go into the lounge where Mary has agreed to take charge of the bar. And to make our theatrical friends feel at home, she has volunteered to dress in a fancy costume. And Anne has decided to join her.'

The guests moved into the lounge. Emma noticed the four exquisite Victorian oil lamps and two silver candelabra illuminating the room, aided by blazing log fires at each end of the room. It looked cosy and warm with the snow piled up in the windows. The chairs and settees were deep and comfortable, liberally supplied with cushions. Robert drew the heavy tapestry curtains across the large window to shut out the wintry weather.

Mary entered from the dining room with a dramatic display of a showgirl, dressed in a white fluffy leotard, with cut-outs displaying the nipples of her lush breasts thrusting through the apertures. Nor did it do anything to hide the cheeks of her pert bottom. The head-dress was in the shape of rabbits' ears, she wore white mesh stockings with a broad red garter on the left leg, and a cheeky bobtail on top of the cleavage of the cheeks of her pert bottom, completed the costume.

Her flowing, wavy hair hung loose over her shoulders giving tantalising glimpses of her nipples as her long tresses swayed. A cheer and a ripple of spirited applause greeted her. Jake's eyes opened wide, staring in appreciation whilst Emma, with her professional eye, examined Mary's figure and bearing with approval.

Anne was dressed as a schoolgirl wearing a white blouse which was at least two sizes too small. It stretched over her bust threatening to burst the buttons, her full unsupported breasts and proud nipples showing through the flimsy material. A pleated navy-blue skirt barely covered her rounded well-buttocks or the fleecy joining of her thighs. She wore black socks with flat heeled shoes.

The two scantily clad ladies were greeted with applause and compliments from the guests. After the noisy welcome, Mary moved between the guests, replenishing cocktails. Emma, who was sitting with Jake in one of the settees, noticed his eyes twinkle with pleasure as Anne, facing away from them, leaned over to pour coffee showing the lush bare cheeks of her bottom displaying a surprisingly hairy cleft.

Jake was reminded of similarly dressed women when working in some of the illicit night-clubs in South Africa. Then, however, the skin of the girls was glowing dark-brown and probably more lustrous. Julie called for attention.

'To start the ball rolling and to break the ice, so to speak, Robert will tell us the first encounter.'

Emma and Jake sank themselves deep in a comfortable sofa. The other guests were scattered in armchairs and other sofas in couples. Emma noticed that the women were not sat with the men she supposed to be their husbands. But there was no sign of jealousy; it was a party atmosphere where everyone was smiling and jolly.

'Our first sexual encounter, then, is when Robert and his first wife, Anji, went to an eighteenth birthday do. It was over ten years ago now. Robert and his first wife lived near Leicester. They were deep into amateur dramatics in those days and Robert had got a reputation for coaching young hopefuls for RADA auditions. One of these hopefuls was Dennis, whose eighteenth birthday it was. Go on Bob, it's your story.'

Robert took up the story.

Well, it's a story in three acts, I suppose. Dennis fancied himself as an actor but hadn't really got the necessary talent. He was pretty, but no charisma. He'd just played the part of a servant in a play with Anji, and they had got on well. Anji always got on well with men.

Dennis had enjoyed a good review for his performance from our local press critic and friend, so he was feeling pretty good about it. After the official birthday party for his family and friends during the late afternoon, we went home to change for the evening party intended for the younger people.

For the prologue to the story, I have to tell you that Dennis's parents went to stay with his aunt and uncle to avoid embarrassment. After all, the lad was eighteen now Anji and I had a couple of brandies at home whilst changing into more casual gear before going back to the party. When we got there it turned out to be rather crowded.

It so happened that these parties often had the same nucleus of people. As the evening progressed and alcohol was consumed, couples got together in dark corners, groping and snogging, sometimes fumbling into clothing, feeling for the aroused private bits. 

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Anji under the staircase with one of our actor friends. He'd got one hand down her dress squeezing a breast and the other stroking the cheeks of her bottom. Anji's hand was rubbing slowly up and down inside the fly of his trousers. I expect he'd end up with sperm all over them 

I ended up in the arms of a slim young woman, whom I knew only vaguely but who seemed to know me. She sat me in an armchair in the corner of the lounge and perched on my lap. She was rather drunk, pestering me to coach her for a RADA audition. I thought she was Dennis's girl-friend, but wasn't sure.

She seemed very young. I had one arm round her neck reaching under her sweater, into her bra. Her breasts were mere swellings and I could feel the ribs under her spongy nipples when I rolled my fingers round them. My other hand was up her skirt, exploring her willowy thighs, trying to find a way to the tempting warmth I could feel in her knickers. She didn't mind being felt this way. In fact she seemed to be enjoying it.

'How old are you?' I asked her. She kissed me passionately, if somewhat unskilled, rubbing the palm of her hand over my own bulge.

A moment passed before she muttered 'Nineteen ' adding 'but no-one ever believes me ' She went on to promise all kinds of personal favours, trilling with delight as she nibbled my earlobes, if I coached her for drama school. But matters didn't often go much further than fumbles and feels at these parties. From time to time these fumbles would be put on hold whilst the men went to refill their glass and that of their partner of the moment.

During such a pause for refreshment, whilst I tried to work out how to breach the girl's impregnable knickers, I was way-laid by a tipsy lady, an actress I knew well. She dragged me into the kitchen for a passionate exchange, so I couldn't get back to the young slim girl straight away. My new companion had looser fitting knickers which allowed me a quick grope at her hairy sloppy fanny, much to her gasping enjoyment, and a quick tickle of her clitoris. She squirmed and twitched.

'Mmmm You've got such sensitive fingers,' she told me. 'I've just had a lovely mini orgasm '

When I eventually got back to the young willowy girl she was snogging with another fellow who had her skirt waist high, his hands on the small cheeks of her bottom stroking them sexily over those tight invincible knickers.

Anyway, the evening wore on and the guests eventually began to leave in ones and twos until there were only four of us left. Anji was slumped in one corner of the settee looking dishevelled with the top buttons of her dress unfastened, showing an expanse of white breast. Her dress was riding up her parted thighs. She rarely wore knickers on these occasions - she claimed they got in the way. I could just see her fanny lips with a tuft of dark hair under the folds of the skirt.

I was in the armchair again with the same young girl slouched across my knee, her hand on my erection. Dennis was draped, eyes closed, along the settee, his head in Anji's lap. He had one leg flopped onto the floor. An empty beer glass dangled from his hand. I was pretty drunk by then with my hand up the girl's sweater playing carelessly with her nipples. By this time, her bra was round her neck and I still couldn't get over her almost flat chest with chunky nipples. Nineteen, I mused She doesn't seem more than fourteen to me. Even so, I was still trying to work out how to get into her warm, damp knickers.

Now for act one It was as I was trying to breach the girl's impenetrable knickers that I noticed the long bulge in Dennis' jeans. They were skin-tight. He must have soaked in a hot bath with them on to get them to shrink to such a tight fit. They were moulded to his narrow hips and thighs, so that any shape inside the jeans stood out. And his penis was certainly standing out.

His shirt was open to the waist, a medallion dangling from a chain round his neck over a hairless chest. The young girl suddenly decided that she wanted to go to the toilet and left the room. Gazing through the boozy haze at the Adonis-like Dennis with his softly contoured face and tousled, blonde curly hair, I thought how attractive he was. He was completely relaxed, with a contented look on his face.

My gaze was held by that bulge down one thigh in Dennis's jeans. I got an irrepressible urge to undress the beautiful young man. I'd never had any inclination before to play with another man's prick, but on that occasion Dennis looked so innocent and irresistible. I had a sudden, irrational urge to fondle his prick. To rape him even Perhaps it had something to do with the frustration of not being able to get inside the young girl's knickers, but I was feeling frustrated and randy.

I slid across the carpet on my knees and gently unbuttoned the waist band of the young man's jeans. Before unzipping him I had to slide my hand down the inside of the fly - you could cause a nasty injury if you caught hairs, or, worse still, your willy in the zip. Without even opening his eyes, Dennis pulled his stomach in to ease the passage of my hand into the waist band. I don't think he realised it was me.

Probably thought it was one of the girls. I folded back the jeans, which freed his stiff prick. It sprung out just like a released spring, slapping against his belly. And it certainly had got stiff. He wasn't wearing any underpants because the shape would showed through the tight jeans. Instead he wore a translucent pouch which was pushed to one side, not holding very much of his equipment at the time.

I sat staring at this pale prick. I remember thinking how exquisite and fragile it looked against the light silken curls pointing up to his navel. There was hardly a mark on the smooth, almost white skin. His testicles were almost hairless, tightly wrinkled. Anji lifted her left eyelid to see what was happening, her eyes opening wide in surprise.

We glanced at each other impudently, before I unashamedly put my tongue to his willy, running it along the underside from balls to tip. She gave a challenging look as if to say I dare you I smiled back at her to turn my attention to the elegant column of solid pale flesh.

Willies come in three basic shapes Julie tells me. The straight truncheon shape, the torpedo shape and the curved banana shape. Each shape comes in various sizes of length and breadth. Dennis had a slender torpedo shaped willy; a bit thicker in the middle, narrow at the base and pointed at the end. It was the first time I had seen another man's at close quarters.

I curled my forefinger and thumb into a circle, placed it over the tip, drawing the foreskin down so that I could take a look at his knob-end. I could feel Dennis's groin begin to tense. It seemed to me, on closer examination, that this was a very beautiful willy indeed. Smooth, pale and forlorn. It was already seeping from the end and I smeared it over the bulbous head, paying particular attention to the sensitive joining of the foreskin to the underside of the shaft.

Dennis was obviously enjoying the experience, so I knelt back on my heels, removed his shoes and socks, peeled his jeans over his legs, removing them and the silky pouch altogether. He was naked from the waist down, his stiff willy really outstanding from the light blonde curls, his balls dangling defenceless between his narrow thighs. The shirt fell open. He was virtually naked; almost nymph-like.

When I glanced up again, Anji had taken her left breast from her cup bra, to push the swollen, brown nipple between Dennis's lips. I should explain that Anji's tits were pretty big, though slack and mushy like bags of jelly. Her muscles had long ago given up trying to hold their weight firm, so she squeezed them into a half-cup bra which lifted them into a terrific, seductive shape with a deep cleavage. Her nipples were the flat, hard variety.

She was smiling at me, watching me stroke my hand delicately up and down the pale shaft, cradling Dennis's soft, squashy balls in the other. He was just lying there, eyes closed, enjoying the attention he was getting, clenching and relaxing the muscles in his groin. Anji was caressing his hairless chest, teasing his pimpled nipples with light scratches. I was fascinated by his genitals. His penis was almost feminine 

It was at this point that the young lady came back in. She looked on thoughtfully for a few seconds before squatting down between Anji's legs. Then she pushed Anji's dress up to her thighs exposing her hairy groin, and, to the surprise of us both, thrust her head between Anji's legs, to lap at her drooping lips.

Now, Anji's fanny lips were very bulbous and long. They dangled They hung low, like her tits You could take them into your mouth like grapes and suck on them. She loved that After the first show of surprise, she smiled happily and closed her eyes. She was enjoying being suckled at the breast and the fanny at the same time by different people. So I took the plunge. I levered Dennis's prick from his belly and slipped my lips over it, slowly taking it until it was completely engulfed.

By this time I was feeling irrepressibly randy. I chewed lightly on the willy, rolling it round the mouth with the tongue, teasing it mercilessly. I felt a hand fumble with my zip to release my own stiffness. It was the young girl who had come up for air from between Anji's thighs. When she saw my stiff willy, she pushed my trousers down to the knees to get my balls in her hand. Then she just watched me sucking prick as she fondled me.

By this time, Dennis was fully aroused, moaning softly. I held his delicate shaft in one hand, thumb pointing up the underside, not too tight, and began to pump it. At the same time, I sucked the head in and out, running my tongue around the rim. Suddenly, his hips jerked, his prick stabbed hard, his sperm splattering against the roof of my mouth. It was fantastic I kept my hand and mouth going until he'd finished. It was an incredibly lecherous experience.

I leaned over to kiss Anji, emptying his sperm into her mouth, before rolling him off the settee onto his knees, turning him over with his face thrust into Anji's cleavage. By this time she'd unhooked her bra and opened her blouse. I saw the tight cheeks of Dennis's small buttocks, just like a girl's, with a pink-brown puckered opening, right there in front of me.

In a moment of sheer lewdness I pushed my prick between the cheeks of his arse, meaning to fuck his cleavage. I was desperate for release. At the same time, I put my arms round his waist, grasped his half-softened prick, stroking and pumping it. Suddenly he grunted, suckling on Anji's hard nipple, and pushed his buttocks against me. To my utter amazement, my cock nudged at the brown hole and sank a couple of inches into his arse. Just like that Easy A bit tight, but easy

The young girl saw it slide into his bum, her jaw dropped and eyes popped with disbelief. She was still fondling my testicles. It was such a fantastic feeling, I just couldn't hold back. The excitement just welled up in my groin and I shot my load with some force into the youth's bum. His hips were parted, jerking as I came into him. His buttocks were trembling. They fluttered I was still holding his prick and cradling his balls but he didn't spill any more come. But I'm sure he had a dry orgasm.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 04



I pulled out of Dennis, and sat back on my haunches. He rolled onto his back, propped against the settee, eyes closed tight, lips apart. Anji was thrown back into the corner of the settee, slowly fingering herself. She had watched me fuck Dennis.

We all felt a bit sheepish I think, but rather pleased with the unusual experience. There was a mug of flat beer on the floor. I took a swig of it to wash down the remains of the sperm.

Any embarrassment was dispelled by the other girl. She sat cross-legged with her eyes screwed-up tight, rubbing between her skimpy thighs. She'd obviously left off her knickers when she was in the lavatory. Perhaps she'd done that so that I could feel her. I don't know. Anyway, her hair was mousy-coloured, tousled and wet.

The narrow chest and thin waist were more like the figure of a little girl, I thought. There was only a light covering of hair around her fanny. Eventually she started to whimper quietly, squirming as she tried to orgasm. Her fingers were pushed deep into her slit. But she couldn't. Her wailing of frustration was sad. This erotic sight had stiffened Dennis up again.

I pulled him to the floor. 'Let's start the second act,' I said turning to my wife. 'You look after Dennis, Anji.'

I lay at the side of the girl, facing her feet, my head towards her middle, trousers still round my ankles, and pushed my mouth into her eager vulva. Slipping off her skirt, Anji pushed Dennis onto his back at the side of me, and straddled his head in the sixty-nine position. Her mouth closed over the slender penis, gobbling at it hungrily.

Dennis responded by tonguing Anji's grapes. Then I felt my own willy encased in a warm wet mouth. So the four of us sucked hungrily on each other. Willies and fannies. We fondled, we stroked testicles and tits. There were moans of frustration, murmurs of pleasure and squeals of joy until Anji grunted with a half-a-dozen warm splashes gushing into her mouth as Dennis's prick erupted again

The excitement of that moment was so intense that I suddenly jerked myself, erupting my own squirts in the girl's mouth and over her face. Then still chewing the girl's vulva, I heard Anji crying out with release. Her hips were bucking wildly against the youth's head.

Then there was this long drawn-out stifled scream from the girl as her head thrashed from side to side, eyes wide open in astonishment. It seemed to last for ages As we calmed down, sat cross-legged on the floor, I cuddled the girl's thin fanny in one hand and Anji's fat one in the other for a few minutes.

Then we stood up, dressed and went home. Dennis drove the girl home. We walked. Anji was curious to know what it felt like to a man, sucking cock.

'Terrific But I don't think I'll make a habit of it. How about the girl?'

All Anji said was 'Sweet I enjoyed it Will you give her some coaching?'

'Why not?' I replied. Anji just chuckled.

In bed we performed the third act. Whilst we fondle with each other, getting ourselves ready for action, Anji described licking the girl's fanny which, she said, oozed copiously - almost like dribbling spunk. I described Dennis's elegant prick and salty sperm. We screwed each other like crazy for half-an-hour. But we never repeated the performance of that particular play again.

The first coaching session was on a Saturday afternoon in the rehearsal room at the theatre. She wore a jacket over a thin sleeveless top and a long black rehearsal skirt. I had thought that the episode at Dennis's party was a result of the drink and now forgotten. But as soon as we'd got into the room, she put her arms round me. She looked at me with wide-eyed innocence, like a child virgin, and gave me a long, passionate kiss.

'Hey , I said to her, when we came up for air, we're here to work at your auditions. 

She looked at me with those large innocent eyes, her lips pouting slightly. With one hand still round my neck, she stroked the other up and down my groin, already half swollen with interest. 'Later,' she whispered in her low tone, 'later '

'She slid down onto her haunches, deftly undid my trousers and, hey presto , my stiffened cock was held in the slender fingers of her small hand.

'Beautiful ' she whispered, her eyes glued to it. 'I adore prick ' And she placed her puckered lips on the end of it, her eyes looking up at mine appealingly, rubbing her lips gently over the leaking head. Then she started to gulp on it with relish, squeezing it up and down with her hand. Her other hand was up her skirt playing with herself.

Her action got more frenzied and in hardly any time at all she gripped her thighs together, pumped my prick hard between her lips, helped with her hand. I just shot my load into her mouth. She slid her lips completely over the spurting penis until it relaxed. Then, with it still in her mouth, she looked up at me with wide-eyed wonder. 

She stood up, shook her skirt free and smiled. 'Right, let's work And we did. For about an hour and a half.

When the session was over she said 'Now let's do it properly.'

Her skirt came off - showing she had no knickers on - then her blouse and bra. She stood facing me, like a little waif, absolutely naked. Almost titless 'Now you '

I slipped my shirt off, unfastened my trousers, and slid them off with the underwear. I stood before her, equally naked, with my excitement clearly showing. It was quickly filling hard, she just watching it twitch and swell.

'Get on the floor,' she said huskily, and I did.

She stood over my waist. The sun shone through the windows behind her. It filtered through the wisps of light-coloured hair surrounding her vulva, like a fine web of gold. Her thin lips were swollen, almost purple, pushing aside the outer labia, coated with her juices. She slowly lowered herself onto my waist, balancing herself on her feet, knees bent. Her vulva opened its pink secret to me as her thighs spread apart.

She took hold of my erection and forced it against her waiting labia. As she sank carefully onto it, I watched the foreskin peeling back allowing the head to penetrate the warm, young, womanly flesh. It was wet and snug. She did all the work, heaving her body up and down, slowly at first, then with a heavy bouncing, then slowly again. Her expression was sheer ecstasy.

As her movement became more irregular, her loins began to tremble. She opened her eyes and looked at me with sheer lust. That girl had one of the most expressive pairs of eyes I've ever seen. You could read her thoughts Her bouncing got more vigorous with one hand pressed into her groin.

'I just love fucking,' she blurted. 'I could fuck for ever '

The pace got faster and more frantic. The hand rubbing her clitoris was a blur of movement. Her bottom lurched and jerked. Then her eyes opened wide. Very wide. They had a look of utter disbelief, as if she'd seen the Kingdom of Heaven. And she let out a long wailing cry which was awesome and exhilarating at the same time.

I just fountained my sperm up into her clutching wet cunt. She just wailed in anguish.

'Oh God I adore cock Sperm Give it all to me Choke me with it Fuck me with it '

As Robert ended his tale, there was applause, mingled with laughter and giggles of appreciation from the guests.

'Very theatrical Pull the other one ' Delia joked. 'A likely story, Robert '

'It's absolutely true And let me tell you, that slip of a girl is now a very famous actress.

'And you actually coached her?' Delia asked with a smirk.

'Yes I did. Actually '

'In acting or fucking?'

Robert laughed. 'She didn't need any coaching in the fucking department, I can tell you 

'Wow ' muttered Martin. 'How often did that happen?'

'Just three times Then she went for her audition. She was accepted, of course, and my part of it was over.

She swore that she'd fuck her way to the top. But she didn't need to. She was a natural And was nominated for an Oscar. You've all seen her on the tele, and in films, but I won't tell you her name, for obvious reasons '

'Yeah Because you don't know it ' Susan scoffed.

'She's a very, very sexy actress Emma might even know her ' Robert teased. 'But I'm sorry to say that Dennis got no-where with his audition '

Telling the story had clearly affected the company. The ladies' cheeks had taken on a pinkish colour beneath their carefully applied make-up, and most of the men were adjusting their trousers to accommodate the swelling at the groin. Emma noticed Jake trying to disguise his bulk 

She smiled to herself. There was obviously a lot more sex to come. 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 05



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter Five : Black on Blonde - Welcome exchanges

During the telling of the host's story, Emma had sat comfortably with her legs tucked beneath her on the settee. Jake was sitting with her in the semi-darkness, his six -foot frame, seemingly all legs and arms, lounging all over the cushions of the settee. His dark brown skin was taught over his noble face and his dark serious eyes reflecting the warm glow of the fire-light as he listened to the story.

The sexy tale had made Emma, to her pleasant surprise, feel rather sensual. She was aware of the lower part of her body already flooded with warmth, dampness in her knickers. Glancing down into Jake's lap Emma could see the bulge signalling his own arousal at the story. She watched it for a few seconds, mentally lowering the trousers to expose it. Ah well Jake went to the bar.

Julie called out. 'Right, Mary and Anne will replenish your drinks folks whilst I see to the kitchen for five minutes.'

The men ogled Mary's swelling bosom which threatened to burst out of the bunny bodice at any moment - particularly when she bent forward to pour a brandy for Bill - and Anne's dark nipples pressed against the tight cotton blouse as she poured glasses of wine. Jake returned to the settee with a glass of wine each for Emma and himself, sitting himself beside her.

At the bar, Bill was looking at her. Their eyes met. His held a twinkle; she was sure he had noticed her interest in Jake's bulge. She suddenly laughed silently at him. He returned the smile. She thought how pleasant it would be to have him roaming his hands over the more arousable secret curves of her body.

He was alone at the moment. Diverting her eyes to the back of the room, she could just make out a couple snuggled up together, chatting quietly. It was Martin, with his hand inside the top of Susan's dress, slowly fondling one of her breasts, whilst her hand was hidden inside the open flies of his evening trousers. The other members of the party were strewn around the room lounging in the settees or in the deep arm chairs, feeling each other's intimate parts. 

Jake looked across at Julie. He fancied her. Thinking of her creamy breasts had already brought about a part erection which was difficult to hide. Julie turned her head and their eyes met. Both knew what the other was thinking 

He had already ejaculated once that evening. After returning from the car with the luggage, Jake had filled a bath of hot water, generously dosed with Imperial Leather bath foam. He climbed into it up to his neck to relax, thinking that this was a great deal better than his usual dingy theatrical digs.

As he closed his eyes, he thought of the promise in Julie's sensual fuck-me eyes when she greeted him. He imagined the sight and feel of those exciting heaving tits which she had deliberately, though discretely, flaunted in front of his eyes. Experience had taught Jake to read the signs of women giving him that look. Something about coloured men filled white women with curiosity. A good number of them had had their curiosity satisfied, to say nothing of their pussies.

His penis began to stiffen in response to the carnal thoughts and enveloping heat. When it reached it's full magnitude, Jake half-opened his eyes to contemplate its bulbous head jutting out of the foam. Like most men, Jake was very proud of, and devoted to, his genitals. His hand encircled the shaft and drew back the foreskin to expose the polished head, like a ripe plum, with its pinky-brown inner foreskin covering his shaft like a second skin.

Casually soaping the bulbous head with the foam, he felt the familiar flexing in his groin. He raised his buttocks a couple of inches so that he could admire the full might of his weapon. Like other vigorous young men, Jake had a strong sexual drive which was beginning to overtake his will. His hand started to lengthen its stroke. It wasn't long before the tightening of frustration gathered in his loins, encouraging him to quicken his stroke.

There was the familiar pulling at his groin which intensified until, with impulsive jerks of his bottom, several thick globules of the familiar greyish liquid spurted from the single eye. He watched them splash over his throat and chest, making craters in the foam. The sight of his semen gushing from his penis had always mesmerised Jake. He loved to see it fountain. It gave him a sense of importance. Millions of little Jakes 

Now, sipping his drink, his attention was drawn to Anne's breasts with a deep lust burning in his eyes. Such promise in them.

Curled up at the other end of the settee, Emma was still watching Bill at the far end of the bar. He looked across at her. She found herself feeling very attracted to him. What the hell she thought. I'll go and talk to him. In uncurling herself out of the corner of the settee her elbow caught Jake's arm as he raised his glass to his lips, spilling the contents of red wine over his lap. Thankfully it didn't soil the chair or cushions.

There was the usual reaction and profuse apologies from Emma. Come on, we'd better wash that out straight away, otherwise it'll end up with a stain which might be hard to remove. I've got some stain remover with me which should get it all out. 

Jake never considered arguing. You didn't argue with Emma She took over as the mother figure. Julie watched them move to the staircase with a look of disappointment. She had her eye on Jake. Ah well There'll be other opportunities, she thought.

Emma took Jake's hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom, conveniently placed at the top of the staircase. Inside the room there was plenty of light reflecting from the snow through the window, but, nevertheless, she switched on the small lamp beside her bed. It threw a pool of soft light. Jake remained darkly silhouetted in the doorway, hesitating to enter the room.

He knew Emma by reputation as an efficient, exacting manager who stood no nonsense. He was slightly nervous of her. Besides, he had his eyes on Julie who, he was sure, had given him the come-on. But there's always tomorrow, he thought, and the next day perhaps. So he went into Emma's room and closed the door.

Emma was rather cross that she had jogged Jake's arm, but there it was. Accidents do happen. If she could get the stain out quickly perhaps she might return to the lounge to see if Bill was still around. He, at least, might make her forget the infamous, cruel Rick.

'Come on in, Jake, and slip your trousers off. I assume you're wearing something decent under them.' She laughed easily. 'I'm not going to bite you, you know. Sit on the bed and pour yourself a drink. There's a bottle of whisky and a glass on the bed-side table. A night-cap is one of my little habits.'

Jake did as he was told and handed the dinner-suit trousers to Emma who whisked them away into the bathroom. She found the tin of stain remover among her toilet things and busied herself dabbing the lotion to the stain, sponging it off carefully. When she returned, trousers over her arm, she stopped in surprise in the doorway. Jake was lying full length on the bed, legs slightly apart, sipping his whisky.

He looked up at her with a disarming smiled. What had attracted Emma's attention was that Jake did not have underwear on and was sporting what she assumed was a semi-erection. At least, the dark brown penis, lolling like a great thick sausage across his left thigh, seemed to be in a state of some arousal, so she suspected it was partly engorged. If not, it was certainly a sizable specimen.

So, what they say about coloured men is true after all, she thought. Wow Below the penis was a large wrinkled sack of testicles hanging from a forest of black curls. Remaining in the doorway of the bathroom, Emma redirected her gaze with a quizzical look into Jake's eyes, her head slightly to one side. His eyes were still smiling mischievously at her, if not his lips. He was watching her reactions carefully.

'You see, Emma,' - he gave just the hint of a shrug - 'contrary to what you just assumed, I just wasn't decent underneath the trousers. I sometimes don't wear them. For comfort. Sorry '

'Ah ' was all that Emma could say. Her gaze returned to the handsome male muscle, now slowly thickening out, lengthening and stiffening in small spasms. In normal circumstances Emma would have dismissed the incident, taken a deep breath, and merely asked Jake to cover himself up in a matter-of-fact voice. She had determined to restore her rule not to meddle with members of the company. Particularly after the Rick affair.

But, since she was already in a state of some arousal herself, and looking forward to some private stimulation in bed later, the timing was perfect. Besides, his enlarging phallus suggested that Jake was just as aroused as she was, hoping for some feminine company for his stiff friend.

Emma's resolve was not as firm as it should be. Perhaps she might - definitely for the last time - defer her self-imposed rule. This was, after all, an unusual encounter with an unusually handsome stranger in very unusual circumstances. It would satisfy her curiosity, she hoped, as well as her body. And her body responded to the vision, telling her that it urgently wanted some stiff male flesh inside her.

So, Emma merely moved into the room. 'Well, you don't have to apologise. It's a very fine specimen from what I can see at this distance. And I'm sure you must be very proud of it. Not without cause. Since it's now all present and correct, so to speak, would it embarrass you if I took a closer look to confirm my first impressions? The light's not too good in here.'

'Certainly not, be my guest. It's been admired on many occasions, so it's used to such attention.' And he parted his thighs to reveal more of his dark dangling testicles, raising his glass in salutation to Emma before bringing it to his full dark lips . She moved to the left side of the bed, sat on the edge, watching intently as the penis reached its state of full erection, swaying slightly and twitching a little as though nodding in recognition of her flattery. Her belly fluttered with anticipation.

Emma smiled up at Jake. 'Absolutely fascinating ' She had never seen a coloured man's genitals before and had often wondered if what she had heard about their size was true. Well, here was the evidence. Eat your heart out Rick, she thought. This mighty Othello puts your randy little Romeo well and truly into the shade.

She gazed intently at it, now strong and hard, like a polished cudgel of deep mahogany, pressed in a forest of black curls against the muscles of his belly. She reckoned it was well above the average six inches - perhaps seven or maybe seven and a half - and thick and sturdy, with a curve half way down the shaft.

'May I?' and without waiting for a reply, she circled her fingers and thumb round the middle of the shaft to test it's firmness, with its tracery of violet veins. Her hand couldn't fully encircle the shaft. She gave it a trial squeeze, feeling the outer skin slide easily over the solid hardness of the engorged muscle underneath.

'Be my guest,' Jake opened his thighs another few inches, putting his whisky glass on the bedside table. Taking hold of it in both hands, curling the thumb and forefinger round its neck, Emma drew the outer skin slowly down the ebony shaft. She watched with fascination as the foreskin stretched, gradually sliding away from the end of the dark penis, until the dark purple, almost black, bulbous, glistening head was revealed.

A tear slowly oozed from the eye of the engorged penis and, using the foreskin as an eyelid, she drew it up and pulled it down again, to wipe away the tear. It was immediately replaced with a second droplet oozing from the eye. After inspecting the seepage with complete concentration, she touched it lightly with the tip of her index finger, smearing the silky liquid over the polished top.

Then, trailing her long fingers down the swollen channel on the underside of the iron shaft, she reached the large, heavy bag of warm testicles which she cupped in the palm of her hand, gently massaging its wrinkles with kneading fingers. She gripped the sack and carefully pulled the whole assembly towards her, so that the ebony rod was parted from the brown torso. Having studied it for a second or two, Emma bent her head to press her slightly open lips against the lustrous end, running her tongue softly over the velvety flesh.

She smelt the sweet, musty flavour of his sexiness in her nostrils and gave in to a sudden desire. Her lips opened, and her mouth lowered itself slowly over the thick quivering phallus, grasping its base in her right hand to prevent it lunging too far into her throat. Even though Emma had a mouth of generous proportions, she had to open her jaw to its fullest extent before she could accommodate the thick head in it.

Gripping the top of the shaft between her lips, Emma nodded her head up and down on it, pressing her tongue against the underside, where the foreskin joined the shaft. After a few oral thrusts, she paused to nibble the sensitive area around the rim of his bulbous head, lashing her tongue around it, before resuming lunging her mouth on the shaft. Her other hand still cupped his soft, heavy testicles, gently squeezing, kneading and caressing the plums.

Even after his private ejaculation in the bath, Jake felt unable to withhold for long when having his genitals manipulated in such a sensual manner. He was in delirium of delight. Emma felt his muscles begin to flex and tense with involuntary jabs of the shaft. His balls tightened in her grasp. He's going to come already, she thought with some surprise. Well, why not? It's too exciting to stop now 

Taking a firmer grip on his column with her whole mouth, Emma pressed harder with her tongue against his sensitive trigger point, quickening her plunging movement. As she did, she glanced up at Jake's tortured face with its screwed-up eyes. Emma felt the increasing tension in Jake's thighs like a tightening coiled spring. A violent shudder ripped through his middle as the muscles of his buttocks suddenly clenched tight, and, with an explosive groan, his loins jerked convulsively as the spring snapped.

Lifting her head away, Emma pounded the shaft rapidly up and down with both hands. It was spurting copiously. A succession of forceful jets of starchy juices erupted from the eye of the purple penis, splattering her cheeks and parted lips. She watched the ejaculation with utter absorption, a spectacle she always found utterly captivating, none more so then tonight, with the white starch spurting from a near-black lunging penis.

As Jake's convulsions subsided, she squeezed the shaft to expel any remaining liquid, swiftly sucking the end clean of any remaining sperm. It had a bitter-sweet taste. A taste she savoured. It was very erotic Strong and musty. She reached for a handful of tissues from the side of the bed to wipe the dripping juices from her face. Jake's face was relaxed and peaceful, his eyes still closed as Emma stood, unhooked her gown, shrugged it carelessly from her shoulders, unfastening her bra. Hooking her thumbs into her knickers, she dragged them to the floor and stepped out of them.

Naked apart from stockings and stole, she hoisted her body over the reclining brown torso, with one knee on either side of Jake's hips. She was determined to fuck away Rick's memory from her mind. Emma reached between her thighs, parted her honeyed lips with the first two fingers of her left hand, guiding the still erect ebony rod between them with her right hand to position it against her gaping aperture. Emma closed her eyes in pleasurable anticipation with a long murmuring sigh, as she lowered herself slowly onto the thick, stiff rod.

Her clutching lips gripped the head of his shaft, pushed back the foreskin, the bulbous helmet slid out of its sheath, nudged its way between her swollen lips, stretching them to their widest limit. The mighty guest was admitted into her hot passage. She felt the tightness as it pressed into her fleshy muff. It was a wonderful sensation Eat your heart out Rick my boy, she thought. This is more like prick This is a mighty Othello 

She wallowed in the sensation of being gradually filled up as every millimetre of thick phallus embedded itself inside her, pushing up to its very base. My God It's a monster she purred, her fingers cradling his balls, drawing them into her groin, straining to have every last fraction of penis into her warm spongy centre. Her other fingers found the swollen bud at the top her fanny lips, and toyed with it, sending vibrations shivering through her whole body. She whimpered softly with sheer delight.

Jake took a breasts in each hand, caressing them and teasing the long swollen nipples. Emma remained still for a few moments, fully impaled to the base, luxuriating in the sensuous feeling of being possessed by a virile male body whilst still in control of it. Then, slowly lifting her torso, Emma began sliding the engorged dark intruder against her sensitive, wet lips, lifting her body until only its tip remained in her, before sliding herself back onto his groin. She repeated the movement with increasing vigour, pressing her clitoris against the sliding shaft to increase the intensity of the stimulation.

Emma sang to herself in rhythm with her thrusts. 'I'm goin' to fuck that man right out of my heart, I'm goin' to fuck that man right out of my heart, I'm goin' to fuck that man right out of my heart, to show him I don't care '

A wonderful feeling of warmth sprawled outwards from her very core, flooding throughout her body as the muscles of her fanny gripped the invader with increasing possessiveness until every nerve in her body was trembling with a thrilling exhilaration. The action got faster and faster until, with a tearing, throaty cry, the physical explosion convulsed her body in a long rippling orgasm.

Fuck you Rick she screamed out to herself. This was utterly agonizing ecstasy Sheer heaven 

She slowly subsided onto the bare, sweat-moistened mahogany chest of her lover. Emma felt exhausted with a deep physical contentment. With Jake still filling her with his virile, rigid shaft, Emma was determined to repeat the experience, but this time with rather less impatience. She intended to arouse him slowly to the point of ejaculation again, concentrating on his every sensation, enjoying his body to the full. She would swear him to complete secrecy during his time with the company, otherwise she would not be pleased with him. She was already losing her memory of the unfaithful Rick to her present visitor.

Throughout Emma's erotic reverie, Jake was laid back, enjoying the surprising incident. That was a mighty good blow job he thought. Emma's not at all the cool unemotional woman I've been warned about, although he knew that her immediate interest was confined to his thick prick. And why not? He was very proud of it, only too willing to share its magnificence with one so appreciative as Emma.

There were times when he had to use all his powers of persuasion on a girl friend to sample its delights. Some were wary at allowing such a monster to stretch them, thinking their vaginas might never fully recover, whilst others were sure they would never be able to accommodate such a huge brute without a lot of pain. But once they had overcome their worries they mostly found the experience wildly exhilarating, many of them coming back for a second helping.

Jake was able to regenerate his sperm supply fairly quickly, keeping his erection for two or three hours at a time without difficulty. The ladies loved that 




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 05



Jake was too astute to brag about Emma's indiscretion. There were plenty of women he could boast about if he chose, but he preferred to retain their trust and keep his experiences to himself. After all, he might want a repeat performance. He felt Emma start to embrace him again, licking his face and generous lips.

Her inner muscles were flexing, tightening their grip on his prick as her loins started to twitch fractionally up and down, her hands roaming over his body with increasing passion. This time, he thought, it's my turn to ravish her. Jake heard her low whimpers of submission as she nibbled his ears, running her tongue down to his chest, whilst rubbing her body sexily against his.

Jake held her tight before rolling over, his prick still embedded deep inside her, until he was on top. Emma's eyes were closed, her lips parted with rasping breaths. Jake cupped his hands behind each of her thighs, lifting them level with his shoulders, her legs high in the air. Her vulva was now wide open to him at it's most vulnerable.

Looking down at the stretched lips clinging hungrily to his thick penis, shining with their mingled juices, Jake slowly withdrew so that only the head remained embedded in the juicy hole. He paused fractionally before thrusting it back to its deepest extent. Emma gasped She was tight but wonderfully smooth and silky.

Jake determined to work hard on this one. He began plunging in and out with a slow, measured rhythm. For what seemed like an age, he kept going, listening to Emma's contented groans, squeals and murmurs which gradually became more passionate as her body responded with supreme joy to the pounding shaft inside it's most sensitive part.

Taking one of her hard, bulging nipples between his thick lips, he nibbled it, roused further by Emma's squeals and clenched teeth. He knew she was coming to the boil. During copulation, Jake was adept at timing his own ejaculation to coincide with his lover's orgasm - a feat which made him vastly popular with women who regard such timing as the ultimate token of sexual empathy.

He quickened his stroke, thrusting harder and harder, feeling his own sexual tension building up in his gut. His thighs begin to tremble violently. Jake knew that it was time to hold back and concentrate on his partner. Still ramming into her with great force, thumping the breath audibly out of her at each driving thrust, he relaxed his muscles to delay his climax.

Emma's breathing became heavier, her loins starting to shake. She clawed his back, opened her mouth wide, screwing her eyes tight. She was coming As her body twisted violently, her silent scream announced her release. Jake let himself go with a mighty lunge, spurting the first jet of seed deep into her. She gave a muffled cry of anguish, clasping her legs round his waist. Banging herself violently against his loins, Emma gripped his battering ram with her internal muscles as his spasms shot spurt after spurt of his juices into her clutching, hungry fanny.

Rick was forgotten. He'd been well and truly fucked away. Emma was glowing with satisfaction and bliss.

Whilst Jake and Emma were enjoying their sexual activity, down in the lounge, the other guests were engaged in a different erotic approach. There was some relief amongst the guests that Emma and Jake had left so that they could begin their usual sexual encounter. Nevertheless, Julie reflected, as she started the tape recorder, that it was a pity she wouldn't get the chance of enjoying Jake's body. Not yet, anyway The music started. Tchaikovsky ballet music. Without a word being spoken, the men stood in a circle round a large ottoman, the ladies behind them. Julie went into a sedate strip tease with Robert's help. It was almost a dance. He removed her white wrap-around satin gown to show her superb figure, accentuated by a white translucent basque, trimmed lavishly with the finest lace, cut low to emphasise the cleavage of her creamy breasts. Matching cut-away panties and white silk stockings, held up with snowy-white lace garters, and trimmed with white roses, completed the image. She looked stunning.

Mary was on hand to take the discarded clothing as, with Robert's help, Julie pirouetted out of the basque and removed the panties with balletic grace. Only the white stockings remained. Whilst the men stood watching the erotic dance routine, the ladies carefully and slowly removed the men's clothes until all were naked. Their genitals at different stages of arousal, but all on the up and up.

The ladies embraced their partners from behind, caressing their bodies before moving clockwise to the next man where they repeated the embrace and intimate fondle, and so on until, having gone full circle, they returned to their partners. Needless to say, all the cocks were stiff and upright.

Meantime, Julie removed Robert's clothes before draping herself gracefully over the ottoman, her long shapely legs apart to display her satin-smooth groin and inviting, hairless vulva.

Mary and Anne brought in a pile of soft white towelling robes. Anne handed each lady a gown which she draped over her husband except for George. When the music changed, he was the first to approach Julie quietly for the first act of devotion of the week-end. His hard erection was already seeping juice. He stood cupping her vulva in the palm of his hand, slowly stroking it up and down.

Mary and Anne stood either side of Julie, holding her legs well apart, which unfolded the lips of her puffed vulva. The others watched in silence as George positioned his stiff cock between the inviting folds of flesh of Julie's pink entrance. Closing his eyes, he slowly drove his sturdy six-inches directly into the warm moist folds until it was embedded as far as to the hilt. Julie moaned softly with the joy of it.

There was a gasp of excitement from Susan. The sight of penetration always thrilled her. This was the cue for her to approach the head of the ottoman facing her husband. Robert stood behind her, casually unfastening her dress before removing it, encircling her with his arms. Susan stood there in her stockings.

As her husband thrust effortlessly in and out of Julie's oozing lips, Susan leaned forward, resting her hands on the side of the ottoman, on either side of Julie's head, watching closely the familiar sturdy penis penetrate the sex folds of another woman. She pushed her bottom out and parted her legs to show that she was now oozing copiously.

A blunt nudging at the entrance to her pouting vulva, devoid of hair, became the thrill of a strong thrusting cock filling her hot, welcoming vagina. A warm tongue from below searched for her clitoris. Julie was tonguing her, sending shivers of delight deep into her groin. The other three couples watched with gleaming eyes.

Laurie and Martin joined the action to gently massage Julie's breasts whilst Enid and Delia stood on either side of Robert, caressing the cheeks of his steadily rocking bottom. It was all ritualistic.

The sight of George's thick penis sliding in and out of Julie, together with the attention being given to her own genitals by Julie and Robert, brought Susan to a rapid climax. She quaked and shook as the shock of the orgasm rippled throughout her body. At the same moment, George's rhythm faltered, giving a lurch and a grunt. Throwing his head back with closed eyes, George withdrawing his hard slippery shaft, pressing it against the smooth lips. The guests watched the sperm gush out in five jets, spurting across Julie's smooth belly.

Julie murmured with happiness, reaching down to massage the warm sperm into her skin, whilst Laurie replaced George between her thighs. He repeated George's ritual, first feeling the warm vulva before filling it with one firm thrust. Susan was helped into a white, fluffy dressing gown as Enid replaced her at the head of the ottoman, to be undressed by Robert as she watched her husband service their hostess.

Robert's large stiff cock found her slender lips, slipped between them, now fully lubricated by the sexual excitement of events. As Laurie drove in and out to the rhythm of the Beatles, Robert fucked Enid to the same rhythm, and Julie jabbed her stiffened tongue against Enid's clitoris. Laurie's rhythm begin to waver, his hips to jerk. Enid knew the signs. He was about to come 

And he did He withdrew as several grunts accompanied the splashes of sticky sperm discharged over Julie's flat belly. It took Enid several seconds longer before the tension started rising deep in her own loins. But Julie was expert at cunnilingus. The welcome spasm, as her orgasm splintered her brain with flashing lights, gave her moans of rapture.

Julie wallowed in the sensuality of the devotional fornication with her guests, one after the other, whilst fondly licking the vulvas of their wives, studying Robert's engorged cock sliding effortlessly in and out of each succulent cunt. This routine was always their first act of sexual devotion, this sharing of bodily worship.

Martin and Delia followed, whilst Laurie and George knelt at either side of the ottoman, nibbling Julie's hard nipples. Bill and Gertie ended the group copulation in similar fashion. Julie had been too intent on the enjoyment of satisfying her guests to reach her own orgasm, but now it suddenly burst on her.

Bill had a way of stimulating her clitoris as he fucked which brought her to the peak of ecstasy. She managed to ride on its crest for several seconds, relishing the thrilling sensation, before crashing under the waves of anguish and delight.

To complete the act of mutual friendship, Anne knelt between Julie's thighs to lick and nibble at the lips and clitoris, whilst Mary was screwed by Robert, Julie tonguing her little bud. After Mary had reached her climax, they changed over to the general enjoyment of all the guests, who watched with enthusiasm, becoming aroused for more.

Robert finally excited the guests by thrusting his throbbing penis into his wife before his hips bucked and jerked. He withdrew in time to allow the guests to watch his plentiful spurts of sperm gushing over her vulva, thighs and clitoris. The guests returned to form the circle around Julie and Robert.

Bespattered with sperm, Julie massaged it into her breasts helped by the Anne and Mary. Then she stood beside her husband.

'Welcome friends,' she said simply.

'Welcome,' added Robert.

The week-end of lust and enjoyment had begun. After a refreshing night-cap, the couples retire to bed together. This would be the only night of their stay they would sleep together, to satisfy their own sexual arousal. After that, it would be a different partner each night.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 06



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

Chapter Six - The Company Manager's Tale

The morning of the second day dawned with no improvement in the weather. Although the snow had stopped, the sky looked grey and threatening. There was no chance of getting out of the inn and no sign of the road being cleared of the deep snow.

At half past eight, Anne came round the rooms with trays of tea, arousing the sleeping guests. She was soberly dressed, in contrast to the previous evening. This would be the last time she expected to find the original partners in bed together for they would change each evening after the story telling session.

Emma enjoyed a refreshing shower before joining Bill at breakfast. She found herself telling him the story of her life. For some reason she couldn't quite fathom, she told Bill all about her parents, her upbringing, everything. She talked her head off! He was a good listener.

'Robert told us of an eighteenth birthday party last night. Would you like to hear about mine?'

'Only if you want to tell me.'

'I do!' And she told Bill all about the evening she discovered her parents sexual infidelities.

'My mother taught me a lot. She had a lovely rippling laugh. Until that night, I thought grown-ups didn't indulge in sex after having children. I thought myself a freak for wanting sex so often. So mum gave me a long talk about men and how a woman could take advantage of them.

'She explained the then shocking, revolutionary idea that the body demanded its ration of sex just as the stomach did food. But some needs are greater than others. And the mind needs stimulating with excitement as well. The thrill of the chase, which is probably something to do with our long forgotten ancestry.

'She explained the need for the female to shop around to make sure she gets the best quality sperm going. And the need for the male to spray his seed wherever he could find a willing - and sometimes not-so-willing - recipient. A combination of the two needs is often exhilarating.

'That, she explained, is why a quick liaison can be such exciting fun. The fear of being discovered adds to the thrill. Some women need different men at different times. And vice versa! To deny yourself of that can be emotionally disturbing. Some women want two men at the same time, just for the sheer enjoyment of sex, but really to ensure the best chance of conception with the most virile sperm.

'That was certainly advanced thinking in those day,' Bill admitted.

Emma smiled at the memory of those early words of advice from, her mother.

'I promised her I would resist the call of the flesh until I was eighteen. Though what that magic figure is for, I've no idea!'

'Coming of age! You're on your own. Responsible only for yourself.'

'Yes! Well, then came the eighteenth birthday party. I had a regular boyfriend then, called Johnnie, and I'd already decided that he would have my virginity before the night was out. I was raring to go! My parents were away at the time. Drinks, starting with punch, flowed. But, boy! I was feeling randy with anticipation!

'There were many people there. We played silly games and there was a lot of snogging all round. The atmosphere was getting pretty hot! Most of the games required the lights to be turned out and girls to be kissed. It was all very lecherous and I got randy as hell, what with all the snogging and groping.

'Before tackling the food, we played a game of Murder. It was a quiet lengthy affair. All the lights had to be turned out throughout the house except for one lamp in the lounge. Johnnie was disappointed when he drew the card of the Detective because that meant he would have to stay in the sitting room until the so-called murder had been committed. So, feeling a bit unsteady, I decided to go to my room for a rest and sober up a bit.

'On the staircase I felt my hand taken by another and on a sudden impulse I dragged the strange person into my bedroom. In the darkened room, without saying a word, he put his arms round me, pinned me against the wall by the weight of his body and kissed me passionately. I was a bit too tipsy and confused to object.'

Emma chuckled at the memory. 'In fact I pressed my hand into the back of his head and gave him a real tongue job! During the kiss, our bodies slowly sagged down the wall until I was squatting on my bottom, in a knees-bent position with the mysterious stranger kneeling between them. Before I really knew what was happening, he had got my breasts out, fondling them. It was hot and sticky I remember, and very thrilling.

I enjoyed having my tits cuddled. Always did! So I responded by returning his kiss, pushing my tongue deep into his mouth. Mother was right! Making love with a stranger was exciting. There was no need to pretend, or to feel any inhibitions at all. It was like being blind-folded.

I felt at his trousers to find out if his cock was stiff. It certainly was! His fingers were probing into my bush as well, pushing my skirt up and shoving the crotch of my loose knickers to one side. Needless to say, I was dripping wet by this time! He knew I was hot for it.

He was pretty expert at fingering my passion-filled labia, teasing the clitoris. I was gasping with exhilaration. We were both perspiring in the heat and impatience. I unfastened his trousers and pushed them down. At that time I'd only ever felt one cock properly - Johnnie's, of course - and being somewhat heady, my natural curiosity wanted to have a good feel of a different shape!

And what an incredible sensation! I held my breath as I grasped this rubbery hot shaft of flesh. I was so absorbed, fondling and squeezing the new toy, the next thing I remember clearly was him lying on top of me with his knees prising my thighs open. My genitals were more than willing by this time.

Before I realised it I'd reached between our bodies with my other hand to part the lips for him to lunge straight in! I certainly gasped! The next thing I knew, I was filled to the brains with cock! It felt so good! Great! Marvellous! I didn't quite fathom what had happened. There was no pain, just a sensation of being filled up. Ready to explode.

I grabbed at his balls for a good feel. Then he was thrusting in and out. It wasn't until then that it suddenly struck me! Oh my God! I'm being fucked! What was new to me was the smell of sex. Pure animal smells of sweating bodies and oozing sex. The aphrodisiac effect was fantastic! I took in deep breaths of the fetid fragrance, wallowing in it.

But, although desperate for it, I'd promised my virginity to my boyfriend. A girl was supposed to object to intercourse. Glad to say, though, my arms and legs were pinned to the floor by his weight, so I couldn't! He just went on banging into me with strong firm strokes. Something inside me wanted to stop him, but couldn't!

I must have been groaning with delight because he shushed me. I was savouring the new wonderful bursting sensation. And the heat! Perspiration trickling down the cleavage. It wasn't the least like I'd imagined it would be. In spite of being warned how painful it might be the first time, I realised it wasn't in the least! I just returned his thrusts, joining in with the rhythm of his strokes. It was exhilarating, but then I suddenly felt ashamed.

I started to sob with outrage, beating his back with my fists as my body bucked into him. I'm sure he thought I'd orgasmed. He suddenly gave a heavy jerk before subsiding with a long sigh of relief. After a brief pause he whispered 'Thanks love. Happy birthday!' withdrew his cock. As he stood I had a whiff of his sperm - a real sexy stench. Then he went. I wanted more!

I'd sobered up by this time. My God! I thought. We fucked! I'm not a virgin any more! I remember putting the palm of my hand between my legs to feel the damp skin and mixed juices dribbling onto my fingers. What on earth will Johnnie say if he finds out?

Well, he wouldn't find out! And I didn't even know who the fellow was! My emotions were very confused. I went into the bathroom, used the bidet to wash my genitals and sponge my breasts and face. I just hoped that whoever the stranger was would keep his mouth shut. Men usually can't, can they? They have to brag!

Then I realised that he may not have known who I was either! Except that he'd wished me a happy birthday! Shit! I finally gritted my teeth and left the bath-room. I was sure that everyone would be able to tell immediately what I'd been doing, but I went quietly into the sitting room and sat down.

'Whoever it was who had taken me, I knew I'd encouraged him. Too much alcohol I expect. I just couldn't stop my body responding. It didn't take any notice of me! It was great!

'During the night, half-asleep on the floor, I felt myself being fingered between the gusset of my French knickers. It was Johnnie. I was wet again down there. There were several couples scattered round the room sleeping. I was still feeling randy so I just opened my thighs to give him a some room to feel me properly.

The danger of being discovered added to my excitement, as mum had said it would. I reached into his lap, his erection was already exposed. I put it into my wetness and let him push its way up my fanny. I didn't dare move in case I woke the others so I just squirmed to get him deeper in, whilst he steadily fucked me. My loins began to tremble with a rippling orgasm.

I closed my eyes and hoped like hell that no-one would wake, though hoping they might, secretly watching. For the second time that night, sperm was oozing out of me.

'A virgin no longer. I was determined to enjoy my new-found freedom. I decided I couldn't stick with just one man, so Johnnie and I parted company. On friendly terms. Well, he was also wanting to grope around a bit.'

* * * * *

The breakfast dishes had been cleared, the washing up completed and Robert had managed to speak to the police, only to discover that it was likely to be some time before the local roads could be cleared. The main trunk roads were taking priority.

Coffee was simmering in the DeLonghi coffee maker, and it was time for another tale. Julie had persuaded Emma, over drying the dishes together, to tell them something about the erotic events which everyone knew went on behind the scenes of a theatre company.

So, after all were sitting in the comfortable lounge with blazing log fire, Emma said that she had decided to tell the true tale - slightly exaggerated of course - of her own rise in the world of theatre to become a Company Manager. To make the story more impersonal, though, she would change her name to Janie when telling it. Her story started several years earlier.

The theatre director, Michael, was an internationally famous actor; equally well-known for his wild and lascivious life-style, as well as his addiction to whisky and to women.

To everyone's astonishment, he had recently married an internationally famous film star, their photographs blazoned over all the press and society magazines. A well-matched couple was the general opinion, though the bride must have known of his reputation. Still, Michael had a persuasive tongue which, reputedly, had got him into bed with most, if not all, leading actresses he played opposite.

Janie was an Assistant Stage Manager on the first of his productions after his return from the honeymoon. She found herself at a first-night party in his company where, true to form, he drank far too much wine and took a fancy to her. The Stage Manager quietly warned her to avoid Michael. Even though recently married, his appetite for different women was as strong as ever.

'I think I can handle it,' she had said. The SM shrugged and smiled.

The party broke up and guests dispersed. Michael was feeling morose and the worse for drink. Taking Janie by the arm, he asked her to see him safely to his flat. Assuming him to be incapable of molesting her, she did. It wasn't far from the theatre. Whilst she made a bee-line for the kitchen to make a cup of strong coffee, Michael disappeared into his bedroom, returning in a beautiful silk dressing gown. Janie put the cup of hot coffee on the table at the side of the arm chair.

'Have a scotch, er - what's you're name?'

'Janie,' she smiled. 'Do you think you should? A coffee will do you more good.'

He ignored her, pouring two large measures of whisky into cut glass glasses. 'Do you know, Janie,' he slurred, 'my wife is a beautiful lady, but she's a bit straight-laced. I never knew that, you know. She was passionate enough before we married. And still is sometimes. In bed. But it's all missionary stuff. Nothing inventive. No real lust there. Now, me! I enjoy a long session of foreplay.'

He handed Janie the glass and sat in the arm chair. 'What's the point of having a gorgeous body - beautiful tits and straight, shapely legs - if you don't enjoy its pleasures to the full? Tell me, er - sorry! what's your name again?'

'Janie.' She laughed and sat cross-legged on the floor at the corner of the chair. His candour was disarming. He spoke as though she was his closest friend! Right then, of course, she was!

'Tell me, Janie. You have a good figure from what I can see of it - which isn't much, I agree - you've got a good figure, don't you agree that it should be enjoyed?'

'Well, since you ask, yes! And I do enjoy it - frequently - daily, in fact. Sometimes I allow others to enjoy it as well,' she added with a laugh.

He looked at her, eyes wide in astonishment. 'You mean you play with your pussy? God! Masturbate? Every day?' 

'Yes!'

She was going to get her way, she thought. She would be as forthright as him. The wine she had taken had given her the courage to confide in him. She'd play him at his own game.

'Look.' Janie put her glass on the floor, opened her blouse, unfastened her bra and slipped them off. She was naked from the waist up! Michael paused with the glass at his lips, whilst he looked with undisguised interest and admiration at her breasts. Janie cupped them in her hands, lifting them up for his better inspection, flaunting her large chunky nipples. 'What do you think?'

'Bea - utiful!' He whispered, taking a sip of scotch.

'But I suppose you've seen just about every size and shape in tits going.'

'Even so,' he argued, 'a new pair is still a joy to see. You have extraordinary nipples. Oo, look! They're swelling, just like balloons!'

'My turn to look,' Janie reached into his lap, parting the dressing gown to be confronted with a half erect penis. He was completely naked underneath the gown. The swollen penis was pulsating, slowly filling and stretching. It was pale and smooth.

He shook his head in sorrow. 'You'd have thought that a great actor would have a prick to match, wouldn't you? The irony is that its very, very ordinary. Even the balls are puny!'

Janie silently agreed, watching the flesh fill and stiffen. There was nothing magnificent about it. But, still, it was a cock. And its owner was a great actor. No matter what its size, she loved them all. And it was clearly capable of doing its job.

'Never mind, though,' he went on, 'it's dipped its way into many well-lubricated fannies of the famous and beautiful. Even a princess! Gosh! She could really go! Screwed like a rattle snake! Insisted on calling me Mr Aspen all the time. "More, Mr Aspen! Fuck me harder, Mr Aspen!" she would cry.' He imitated her aristocratic inflections to perfection. 'Bloody sex maniac she was, though.'

He paused to sip his scotch, looking bleary-eyed at Janie. 'Do you want to fuck?'

'You only fuck with actresses and the aristocracy I'm told,'

'I might make an exception in your case.' 

'We'll see.' Janie smiled, taking hold of his now fully erect penis. 

He went on. 'People think that just because a woman is beautiful and shapely, she'd be good in between the sheets. Don't you believe it! Some are a big disappointment in the fuck department, I can tell you! I suppose some men are the same. Full of promising looks but lousy when it comes to the balling.'

Janie was stroking his almost full penis whilst cupping his small testicles in the other hand. She adjusted her position so that she could take the stiff object between her lips.

'Hey!' he cried out, 'do you enjoy sucking cock?'

'Mmm! Love it!' And she worked her tongue up and down the shaft whilst Michael opened his dressing gown further, spreading his knees as wide as he could. His penis wasn't big enough to be uncomfortable. She could take it all in, even as far as to the hairy groin.

He murmured with pleasure.

'Now that's something my wife would never, ever do! She would call that filthy! Dirty! Depraved! But there's nothing in life better than relaxing with a glass of scotch whilst your cock's being sucked by an experienced lady. Mmm! You've got a wonderful, sensitive, hot tongue. You know just where to lick. But being a bit drunk, it may take me a while to come. So enjoy it!'

And Janie did enjoy it! She worked her tongue under the foreskin with relish, running the tip round the rim of the head. Her lips squeezed hard over the shaft as she bobbed her head up and down, her hands working on his inner thighs and testicles. It was a good cock to suck. Just the right size.

Eventually, Michael's loins began to clench, his groin to lurch. His breathing became more erratic, his eyes clenched tight. Janie felt his muscles clench and tighten. Increasing the pace of her mouth, she used her hand to add to the stimulation. His glass of whisky was on the table, now forgotten in his increasing concentration on the sensations dragging at his loins. Michael was moaning softly.

His jerking and clenching got more urgent. With a loud grunt, his body lurched. Janie felt the hot jet of sperm explode into her mouth. Another! And another! Several more spurts filled her mouth as his hips jerked until the body finally began to relax. Janie slowed down the sucking rhythm, lips gripping the shaft firmly, until the spasms were over.

Slowly, she pulled her mouth off the stiff penis, her lips licking off the sticky, faintly bitter sperm. Before swallowing the ejaculate, she rolled it round her cheeks, savouring its taste and texture.

A sip of whisky swilled round the inside of her mouth, helped it down. Michael was fully relaxed, eyes closed. He was, in fact, asleep.

Smiling to herself, Janie sat back on her haunches, watching the penis of the great actor slowly soften as she reached between her own thighs to scoop the oozing vaginal honey onto her fingers and massage it into the bud of her clitoris, sending ripples of excitement through her body, like an electric current.

Her orgasm came quickly and silently.

She closed his gown, spread a blanket over him and left him sleeping in the chair.

After that evening, Janie often gave Michael sexual relief with her mouth. He became a glutton for it. Even when driving the car to a meeting she would take it out and fellate him. But he never asked to fuck her. He enjoyed the oral satisfaction. She had persuaded him to appoint her as his personal assistant so that she could relieve him whenever he felt the need. And no one ever knew!

Within twelve months Michael had left to run a theatre in Australia. So she turned her attention to the Chairman, Sir William. Janie knew that the company intended appointing a company manager - a top job which would open all kinds of doors for her. With Michael gone, she needed someone of influence to support her application. Who better than the Chairman of the board?

He wasn't a handsome man. In fact, he was rather repulsive with a fat belly and protruding eyes, but was reputed to have an eye for young girls. His own wife, the severe Lady Dorothy, not surprisingly, had no interest in sex at all. It wasn't difficult for Janie to insinuate herself into his affections and lustful desires.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 06



He had his personal fetish, Janie discovered. Acutely embarrassed by his small penis, he got his sexual kicks from a close, detailed examination of the female genitals. He delighted in separating every fold delicately, lifting the hood of her clitoris, and parting the lips to peer up her pink, wet entrance.

For many minutes at a time he would scrutinise her labia and clitoris. Fingers would paddle in her juices and smell the pungency. Janie would place her body in different positions giving him unlimited access to her secret orifices. The small petals of flesh hiding the entrance to her secret passage would gradually open with rhythmic pulses, revealing the cream oozing down her vagina. She relished her power over his pathetic interest in her vulva. Even her rectum was of interest to him.

Finally, Sir William would ask her to masturbate herself whilst he watched. But he insisted that she closed her eyes as she did so, so that he could jerk himself off without her ever seeing his inadequate penis.

Often, it was necessary for Janie to fake the orgasm. Her cries and whimpers were convincing enough for Sir William. When she felt splashes on her thigh, accompanied by his hard asthmatic breathing, she knew she had succeeded. Keeping her eyes closed until he told her she might open them, she never did see his penis, but she got the job! It was shortly after that Sir William resigned through ill-health.

That was when she decided that it was time to develop a new reputation - a reputation for being unavailable. No word had ever got round about her sexual activities with either Michael or Sir William. A woman wouldn't be able to hold down a job like hers without the complete respect of all the company.

So ended the Company Manager's tale. The guests agreed that it was most diverting and an unusual insight to the goings on behind the scenes of the theatre.

What Emma did not tell the guests was that the up and coming famous young actor Rick Jones, had been an exception to her rule. So it was a terrible insult for Emma, after those countless acts of unrestrained love between them, to find him with his rampant penis embedded deep inside another, albeit younger, girl so soon after having enjoyed it pounding inside her own vagina. She had felt angry, jealous, and not a little sorry for herself. But the events of the previous evening had totally wiped from her memory Rick's puny penis! No doubt others would follow.

'As Emma told us, even royal princesses are not immune to a bit on the side,' Bill told them. 'Or in her case, rather a lot! It also reaches the lower members of the household with servants getting screwed by the sons of the aristocracy. There's also some erotic goings on in stately homes, I can tell you.'

'Oh, do tell!' cried Enid, always eager to hear about the sex life of the upper classes.

'Well, here's one from my own experience.' And this was his tale.

I was an only child. And being brought up in an aristocratic family with a large mansion, I didn't mix with other children very much. I never thought much about sex and was only mildly curious about it, until I went to college, that is.

One late afternoon towards the end of summer, after the harvest had been brought in and I was lying in fresh hay in the stable day-dreaming - I loved the smell of fresh straw and hay - the stable lad came in with one of the servants. Edith they called her. She was a large, buxom girl with plump pink cheeks and eyes that twinkled.

She was looking a bit hesitant and I overheard her say 'Suppose we're caught?' But the lad reassured her that the family were in the town and the other servants were all busy. 'You're not expected for half-an-hour yet,' he told her. Being hidden in one of the stalls they hadn't seen me.

The stallion was in his stall, quietly munching his oats, or whatever. He lifted his head, shook his mane and snorted as they came in. The girl giggled. 'Just look at his enormous thing!' she cried. 'He wants his mare!' The lad took her in his arms to kiss her. 'And I want mine! Come on, you can look at mine instead,'

After the kiss, I heard him tell her 'Put your hand down there.'

She giggled. 'Is it all stiff and ready?' she asked. 'You'll find out!'

Edith fumbled at his trousers and gave a gasp. 'Oh! My God! What a whopper!' she cried. 'Nearly as big as the stallion's! I must have myself a taste of that! Come on then! Get it in!'

She lay herself down on the straw in the stall next to where I was hiding. Peeping through the crack between the planks of wood there she was, feet facing me. She'd hoisted up her skirt round her waist, parted her legs with knees bent upwards. I could see her pink gash clearly, surrounded by a tangle of matted hair.

Of course, being a total innocent, I had no idea about women's genitals then. I just assumed they were a bit like boys, but flatter. I knew they had to sit down to wee but I thought that was only because they wore skirts. So I was taken aback at my first sight of a plump fanny between the massive cheeks of her bottom. It was fascinating.

The lad was unfastening his belt, dropping his trousers. Then out sprung this thick willy, stiff as a poker. It looked pretty big to me. I watched goggle-eyed as he knelt between her thighs.

She gasped as the lad pushed at her but all I could see were his buttocks bouncing up and down as she moaned. 'Oh, you'll kill me with that enormous thing!' I heard her cry.

'hen she said, 'Here, you lay down an' let me fuck you!'

The lad rolled off and I could see his glistening willy and huge dangling balls. When Edith sat up I noticed her bodice was undone, with her immense breasts bulging out. The nipples were equally over-sized and swollen. Then she straddled over him, facing him, exposing the tremendous orbs of her buttocks.

There, in front of my eyes was her fanny, with droopy brown lips slightly apart. I thought some of her insides must be hanging out of her crack. They looked as though they were sweating. But she took hold of his stiff shaft and guided it into the gap before sinking onto it. It disappeared completely into the thatch a dark hair.

She bounced up and down vigorously and I could see the lad's willy sliding in and out of her. She was groaning and grunting like a pig. Her mighty buttocks shook and trembled with the frenzied activity. With bouncing breasts, her thrusting got heavier, her panting harder until she finally gave a huge judder. 

I didn't know what to make of that episode but I remember feeling strangely aroused. It was hot and I could detect the smell of their sex mingled with the fragrance of the hay. I had an urge to dip my swollen willy into a woman's hole. Like the stable lad, to feel what it was like.

And after they'd gone back to the house I went to the stall and stood looking at the straw where they had fucked. I took mine out. It had got stiff with excitement so I tossed it off, spurting into the straw.

'So what next?' Emma asked.

I realised that watching others fuck was exciting. So I took to spying on the servants and even the guests when they came at week-ends. I realised just how much of this fornication was going on, right under my nose.

I became more and more curious about women and tried various means of accidentally feeling into their clothes. My nanny and I were very close and I was never so happy as when I was cuddling into her soft bosom. She was a small, buxom woman with a happy laugh.

Even when I was home from college, we still cuddled on the bed. I was small for my age, I suppose, and didn't get much affection from my parents. I would push my hand into her bodice between the buttons during our cuddles. I don't remember her objecting to this at all. She probably thought I just wanted to snuggle up to her.

At bed-time, when I was dressing for bed, she would come in to say goodnight, and we'd play tickling games. These became fairly boisterous at times. On this particular occasions I ended up with my night shirt round my chest. In the excitement my penis had stiffened. She suddenly stopped to look at it.

'What a big boy you are getting to be, for sure.'

I asked her if she would rub it to make it spurt before I went to sleep. I remember her blush. 'Don't be so rude!' she snapped. 'Gentlemen and ladies don't do that!'

I told her that they did! I'd watched them do it!

She didn't say anything, but just gave me a peck on the cheek and left. Eventually, though, she did toss me off. I think the sight of a young erection aroused her if the truth were known.

After that first time she did it fairly regularly. She would examine my stiff penis first, peeling back the foreskin and fondling the testicles, 'to make sure there's nothing out of place' she explained, before masturbating it.

Her cheeks would colour, her eyes gleam as I ejaculated into her palm. During these sessions I started to stroke her plump thighs under her long skirt. At first, she kept her thighs closed but I finally managed to get beyond her garter and felt the bare flesh of her thighs. I groped into the legs of her long knickers and felt the roughness of hair.

I can recall quite clearly how nice and warm it felt. When I touched something slimy she closed her thighs again and told me I was very naughty. I was to go to sleep. But her eyes would be shining still and her cheeks flushed.

I lay in bed sniffing the pungent odour on my fingers. As she became used to it, she let my fingers explore her for a bit longer until I got them into her hairy, wet warmth. That alluring female smell has stayed with me ever since. It really turns me on!

I can't remember why Nanny left the house, but I enjoyed playing with my stiff cock in the hot bath. On one occasion a young maid came unexpectedly into the bathroom when I was masturbating. I hadn't bothered to lock the door.

She was a thin slip of a girl, I remember, with mousy hair. Catching me with my stiff willy in my hand, she was taken aback for a few seconds by my abundance of hair. Then she came to sit on the edge of the bath staring at my erection. 'That's a nice one William,' she said. 'What do you call it?'

I probably blushed. 'Willy, of course.' It was beginning to wilt with the embarrassment.

She smiled at me with twinkling eyes. 'Have you ever fucked with a woman?' she asked. I said not. 'Have you ever seen a woman's cunt then?'

I pretended I hadn't, though I told her I had felt one though not whose. 'Now, if you'll do what I ask, I won't tell your ma what I found you doin' in the bath. Jump out and let me dry you,' she said, 'then I'll show you how to fuck.'

She locked the bathroom door before drying me off with a warn fluffy towel, paying particular attention to my penis. Then, she took off her skirts, pulled off her knickers, and sat on the edge of the lavatory seat with her legs wide open.

'You see that gap, there,' she was pointing to her hairy gash, 'just push your stiff willy in between the gap in the flesh. You'll be surprised to see it disappear.'

I examined it in detail. It was nothing like as fleshy and hairy as plump Edith's. The cleft was narrower, though wet and slimy. Her hair was a mousy colour and fairly sparse. The cheeks of her bottom, small and tight. I was fascinated. I scooped some of the ooze onto my fingers to sniff. It smelt fishier than nanny's but succeeded in rousing my willy again.

She got impatient in case someone would knock on the door. 'Come on!' She was breathing harder than usual and held out her hand to pull me towards her.

I knelt in front of her. 'Put the end of it between them lips,' she said. She had her arms round my bottom by this time. 'Now, push it in.' I did. It felt lovely and warm.

At long last, my willy was gripped by a muff of womanly flesh. I remember thinking how lovely and snug it felt. Her breath was rasping. 'Go on!' she begged, 'push it in and out as fast as you can!' Her hands were pulling my bottom in to her with a rhythmic motion.

Then, she transferred one of her hands between our bodies and rubbed herself between our groins. It wasn't long before her face was screwed up in pain. I was bit scared. I thought I was hurting her, particularly when she started to moan. Then, suddenly, I ejaculated into her. I just spurted and spurted. Thought I'd never stop!

I remember being scared when she started to thrash around whine in pain. After she had recovered, she pulled me out of her. 'Bravo!' she cried! 'What a great willy you have there! Just like your father's.'

I wondered how she knew that. Wiping me clean and putting on her knickers and skirts she asked 'Shall we do it again sometime?'

I nodded. Anyway, we didn't. She was dismissed a few days later. I don't know why but I recall Mama was very cross with her. I heard that she was having a baby.

'Yours?' Emma asked.

'Who knows? Perhaps father's.'

Susan chuckled happily. 'You should have tried Edith.' she said.

Bill looked at her in amazement. 'I did!' he cried. 'And I succeeded! It was during the summer vacation in the very same stall I'd first seen her fuck. Her bottom was really huge and her fanny like the proverbial honey pot!'

The company became hysterical with laughter before all retiring to prepare for lunch. 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 07



It is winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high-class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

After a torrid affair with their leading actor, Emma, the Theatre Company Manager is stranded with an actor new to the company and is soon in his bed, after the host has related the tale of a wild bisexual birthday party. Emma's tale the next morning, involves her rise in the Company by bending to the sexual whims of those with influence.

Chapter Seven - Anne & George's fantasies

And still it snowed! When everything had been cleared away after lunch on the second day of their incarceration in the Travellers Rest Inn, the hostess, Julie, invited the men to change into the clothes they would find in their bedrooms and to assemble in the bar. Meantime, the ladies were invited to move into the lounge, where they would find other costumes, which they were asked to change into.

Mary dispensed cups of coffee to the men when they returned, whilst Anne, the chief waitress at the inn, and Julie provided refreshments for the women. Anne was in her standard waitress outfit, black blouse and skirt with the top corners of the bib of her white apron pinned to the blouse with small brass safety pins.

Since she had lost her husband in the war, Anne had not re-married. She had found out during her first marriage that she enjoyed sex to be varied, being too curious about the male body to be tied to one man. She wasn't obsessed by sex but had a healthy appetite for it when it presented itself. Working at the Travellers' Rest provided her with whatever opportunities she wanted when she felt like it.

Of average height, Anne's body was on the plump side and often sought after by those who liked some flesh to press. Her legs were shortish and well padded.

After the coffees were distributed, Julie took Anne to one side. 'Anne, I wonder if can you spare a moment? The men need a little help in there. Would you mind helping out?'

'OK!' Anne nodded.

Julie took Anne through into the bar where she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of six men in dog collars, dressed in black suits, sipping coffee. They wore identical, white half-masks and black hats, each carrying a rolled umbrella. Leaving Anne looking rather aghast, Julie took George by the arm - she recognised him by the colour of his shoes - and beckoned him to follow her into the lounge.

Anne remained standing still as the chatter stopped, the men turning to look at her. She had walked straight into the scene of one of her fantasies! A group of anonymous vicars!

No one spoke. One of the men stepped towards her, pointing to a low coffee table, gesturing that he wanted her to step up on to it. Slipping off her shoes, Anne nervously got onto the low table with a feeling of some apprehension. The man hooked the tip his brolly under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up high to reveal her white frilly knickers, which were too small to hide the bushes of dark hair emerging from either side of them.

With her heart beating fast, Anne's mouth had turned dry. The five 'vicars' put down their coffee cups and gathered round the front of the table to stare at her. Two of them came either side of her, hooked a fore-finger into the top of her knickers, slowly easing them down to her ankles, revealing her pubic hair in all its glory. Anne was excited, if a bit scared, wondering what they were going to do to her.

The man gestured to Anne that he wanted her to step out of the knickers. No one moved as she lifted first one foot, then the other, out of the white frilly pants. She looked at them all staring at the mass of dark luxuriant curls covering her navel. She was asked to part her legs to display the thick covering of glossy hair on her genitals, spreading down her inner thighs, through to the cleft between the cheeks of her bottom.

For some curious reason Anne blushed deeply when one of the men who had removed the knickers leaned towards her, to peer closely into the plump swelling of her vulva.

'Yes, gentlemen. There you are.' The first man spoke softly. 'You see an example of the hirsute female in her natural state. A fine example. Turn round please,' he asked Anne politely, 'and I'd be most grateful if you'd remove your skirt.'

She did as she was told, the skirt dropping to the floor behind her, exposing the rounded cheeks of her firm bottom, drooping seductively over the tops of her thighs. 

'Would you mind bending forward, please.' he asked, flicking the skirt to one side with his umbrella. He then pointed with his brolly. 'There you will notice, gentlemen, the way in which the hair grows thickly between the tops of the legs. There is a large tuft in the valley of the anus, with hair spreading well down the inner thighs, and a lush covering around the orifice itself.

'This is a really wonderful example of the hirsute female. It is rare to find one these days in which none of the hair has been trimmed or, indeed, removed entirely. In its natural state, the hair also grows thickly in the armpits and, in some cases, around the nipples. To some gentlemen, this is a very erotic condition.

'We shall see shortly whether or not this specimen has more body hair, or whether she has committed an act of folly by removing it? But before doing so, we must examine what lies hidden in this undergrowth.'

He groped into her groin, parting the hair on her vulva to reveal the brown, crinkled lips. With his thumb and forefinger, the man held open the lips to show the coral-pink flesh, glistening with her honey.

'Ah! There we are! The entrance to the lady's soft inner flesh and the reproductive system. And there you can see the juices beginning to exude from the orifice. That means that the lady's vagina is now overflowing with her lubrication, ready for penetration by the male penis.

The men muttered and murmured amongst themselves, eventually turning and nodding their approval.

'Would you please stand up and remove your blouse?' Anne was asked with studied politeness.

The man had allowed the hem of her dress to fall back into place, as Anne stood upright, turned, still wearing the pinafore, which hid the hairy navel. She unfastened the brass safety-pins to remove it. Her blouse followed, the garments falling to her feet.

Her full breasts, set high on her chest, were topped with stiff, swollen, dark-brown nipples. Her belly was well rounded, with the curly hair peaking at her navel. There was no hair sprouting from her nipples, but evidence of hair-tufts could be seen sprouting from her armpits.

'Please raise your arms above your head.'

There was a gasp from the men, as the full glory of her fleecy armpits was revealed to them.

'Gentlemen, you are now allowed to stroke the specimen wherever you wish, run your fingers through her hairy patches. Admire and enjoy the feel of it. But respect the lady at all times.'

Anne was immediately surrounded by the five men who explored her firm, silken flesh with roving hands as though she were a marble statue. Not one of the men laid aside his brolly. Her buttocks, hips, calves, breasts and arms were all caressed and patted. The men nodded and murmured their appreciation to each other.

To Anne, it was very arousing, her heart palpitating and her vagina leaking freely. Then hands began probing her inner thighs, stroking the hair, lightly fingering the pouting lips barely visible through the mass of curls.

'Tut, tut!' muttered one of the men as he examined his finger, now stained with her juices. He held it out for the others to take a close look. They peered at it intently, before exchanging looks with each other.

Then another of the men tentatively pushed his second finger into the crack. After prodding it around the hidden folds, he took it away and looked at it in disbelief. He sniffed it before holding it out for the others to inspect.

There was shaking of heads and much tutting. Then all five groping hands felt carefully between her thighs. Into the lips of her vulva, the crack of her bottom, her clitoris; flicking, rubbing and caressing the oily skin, drawing out the honey. They were all muttering to each other words of mock surprise and disbelief. Anne, with a dry mouth, was lit up with excitement and salaciousness.

Her thighs trembled and her buttocks shook as the agitation built up within her groin, deep inside her belly. Her vulva was now seeping copiously, soaking into the hair, to the great excitement of the gentlemen. An orgasm overtook her with a wave of joy, her knees trembling uncontrollably, her whole body shaking with the intensity of it whilst she leaned heavily on two of the men, others holding on to her firmly.

'Come down, please,' the first man asked when her convulsions had subsided, and helped her to step off the table. 'Lie on your back on the front of the table, with your buttocks on the edge please.'

Anne did as she was told. 'Open your legs wide, please, and lift them as far to your shoulders as you can.' Anne was only too happy to comply. 'Now gentlemen, you have witnessed the female body at work, preparing itself for it's main purpose. The act of fornication. The function nature designed it for. If we ask the lady to rub her fingers repeatedly over the vulva and the clitoris, we will see the result.'

Anne began to gently masturbate, her middle fingers exploring the outer lips, dipping into her vagina, smearing the white honey over her little white button, an act, which always aroused her to a peak of excitement. As her fingers parted the hair round her entrance, the wetness between her thighs had increased, as yet more juices could be seen oozing and dribbling from her aroused vagina, which was now throbbing and dilating, revealing the inner tunnel in all it's secret wonder.

'There you are gentlemen. It appears that this specimen is more than ready to be penetrated by the male penis. The vagina is already eager to be entered. Its petals are opening and closing with expectation of penetration. A rhythmical thrusting in and out of the vagina by the penis will stimulate the lady even more.

Having strange men watch her masturbate gave Anne extra stimulation. She closed her eyes as her hips and loins shuddered and rolled with delight and excitement as her body responded to the expert touch she had perfected over the years of self-enjoyment.

'The pumping action of the penis will also activate the little hood you see covering the clitoris,' he explained, pointing to the part in question, 'by dragging it up and down over the sensitive button, so stimulating it. This will, eventually, result in the lady having rapid contractions and convulsions.

'You have already seen how the lady behaves when that occurs. She collapses. That is the orgasm. A most exciting moment for the lady and one in which her inner muscles will draw the sperm into her tubes, to search for the egg. Let's see if we can coax another from her. Perhaps one of you would oblige her.'

And, almost immediately, Anne felt a stiff blunt weapon prodding at her vagina. She took a deep breath as she trembled again in a small, silent orgasm, brought on by the probing finger with the added anticipation of being sexually violated. The other men looked on with fascination, unfastening and dropping their trousers, pulling out their bursting erections.

'Please restrain yourselves, gentlemen, by limiting yourselves to twenty deep thrusts each, so that you can all sample the delights of this delicious example of feminine charm. The main purpose is to stimulate the lady by filling her impatient vagina with a variety of stiff penises and satisfying it's ache by giving her as much pleasure as possible in the encounter.'

One by one the men serviced Anne with a twenty firm plunges into her slippery, warm flesh before withdrawing to make way for the next one. Jake was the fourth man, filling her with his thick penis, and yet another wave of agitation built up inside her as the large thrusting object massaged her inner folds.

Anne thought she would explode with frustration - tighter and tighter - it was sweet agony. Then, the welcome, shuddering orgasmic release ripped through her body, the spasms accompanied by loud cries of joyful exhilaration. The last man slid into her for his twenty thrusts whilst Anne continued to gasp and moan, enjoying her climax to the last sigh.

Whilst all this was going on, George had gone through the door of the lounge. As it closed behind him, he was surprised to see five nuns in the room, each wearing a white porcelain-like mask. They were chatting away to each other animatedly before one of them raised a hand to silence them. They saw her looking at him and all turned their faces to study the newcomer.

Emma felt aroused by the fact that she was anonymous. There was nothing to identify any of them to George.

George was the novelist Susan's husband. At 37, he was a highly sexed man and was capable of ejaculating at least three times a day. Being a handsome man, he was attractive to women. He owned his own highly successful business of an electrical contractor started by his father straight after the war. He was, of course, a multi-millionaire.

He frequently took his young secretary, and another of the office girls together in his office during the lunch hour, and Susan at night. Even so, he sometimes had to masturbate to keep his sexual needs fully satisfied. In his younger days would masturbate frequently. He was in love with his penis.

And here he was faced by a party of nuns!

'Ah! This will be our specimen, sisters.' One of the women crossed to him. 'Please remove your clothes from the waist down, Father, and stand on that table.'

He was helped by two nuns undoing the waistband and flies of his trousers. They expertly slipped off his shoes and socks before removing his trousers. The bulge in his Y-front pants drew the attention of the nuns.

The leader pointed to it. 'Within that cotton support, sisters, rests the means by which women are impregnated. It appears to be in a relaxed state at the moment, but we shall try to arouse it to a state of readiness.'

The underpants were quickly taken down leaving George naked from the waist down; his semi-soft penis slumped over the tight testicles. 

'I am the Mother Superior,' the first nun told him. 'I would like you to do as I ask. Up onto the ottoman, please,' she instructed brusquely.

George stepped up onto the large, square ottoman in his bare feet, still dressed in his shirt and tie, jacket and bowler hat. The nuns grouped round the front of him as the Mother stood to one side of him. She placed a pencil beneath his flaccid penis and lifted it up for them to examine.

'I expect that most of you will be unfamiliar with this interesting part of the male anatomy. That, sisters, is the cause of much trouble in the outside world. It is what many women of the world yearn for but which we, in our order, have promised to deny ourselves. The penis, here in its state of repose. For some men, that state is fairly rare, but today we will witness how it becomes aroused to a standing position, ready to enter the woman's vagina.'

Some of the nuns craned their heads forward to take a closer look at the innocent looking tube of flesh. 

'The hair of this specimen is unusual in that it lacks the usual curls. The majority of male pubic hair is very similar in texture to our own. Some is coarser than others, of course, which is the same as with women. But here we see wavy hair devoid of curls. That is unusual. However, it does not affect the performance of the penis itself. Perhaps you would care to take its measurements, sister, in its relaxed state.'

One of the nuns stepped forward with a dressmaker's measuring tape and placed it at the base of his stem.

'Four-and-a-half inches long,' she said, before wrapping it round the shaft, 'and four inches in circumference.'

'Good! Now we shall see if we can arouse it and persuade it to stiffen and enlarge.' And the first nun began to fondle the specimen. 'You may fondle and embrace his testicles' she told the others, 'and stroke his thighs and bottom. This movement helps to arouse the base instincts in man.'

Four of the nuns joined in the exploitation of George's flesh. Normally, George would have erected in no time at all, but the unusual nature of the encounter and the strangeness of the company deterred his usual speedy inclinations. But the stroking of the flesh and the fondling of his genitals soon had the desired effect.

'There you are, sisters,' she purred, 'you can see the way in which the male organ is beginning to inflate. Feel it's spongy texture beginning to harden. Watch carefully as it sways and hoists itself slowly from its resting place as the inflow of blood fills its spongy interior. Soon it will be stiff and proud.'

The nuns were all staring at the growing shaft until it finally stood stiff and upright against George's stomach, his shirt tails draped over each side of it.

'Would you care to measure it again, sister?'

The tape measure was put to use once more.

'Five and seven-eighths inches long - call it six inches - and five and a three-quarters inches in circumference at its widest part.'

The Mother explained. 'The shape and size of the male penis does vary, which makes it an object of constant unquenchable interest to many females. However, it rarely exceeds six inches in a European man, although in my youth I saw, and indeed sampled within me, larger specimens. This particular example is what we refer to as the torpedo because of its shape. We do have here, though, an unusually slack foreskin. Would one of you care to examine it?'

Emma remembered Jake's penis being much larger than this one. Bigger than the average. But then he was a black man! She reached out quickly. With the thumb and forefinger of both hands, she slowly drew the foreskin over the head and down the full length of the shaft. The other nuns gasped as the head emerged.

'In the interest of personal knowledge and physical experience, could I be allowed to try to put it inside me to see if it fits? I think I should experience the problem faced by other women.' 

It was the tall dark nun who was itching to get it inside her.

'Certainly, sister. I think we should each have the chance to test it out.' She turned to George. 'Step down please and sit on the edge of the ottoman, leaning back as far as you can.'

George did as he was asked, resting on the palms of his hands behind him, his stiffness projecting proudly, its head glistening with a pearl of moisture. The Mother pulled up the shirttails as far as she could.

'Notice the bead of moisture which has formed at the head of the shaft. This helps the lubrication of the foreskin as it slides over the head and back again during copulation, stimulating the trigger point of the penis until the ejaculating muscle is activated and sperm is ejected out of the shaft. It will be necessary for me to pull the stiff shaft away from the belly; otherwise penetration may be difficult. In the more usual man-on-top position, this problem doesn't arise.'

The dark-haired nun lifted her black habit, stood astride George's legs, with her back to him, lowering her groin onto the head of his stiff penis, which the first nun presented to the gap between her vaginal lips.

'Can you all see,' she asked as the other nuns bent over to get a good view. 'You'll notice from the nun's vaginal lips that her lubrication is already oozing from her. This is to allow the easy passage of the male organ into her opening. It is a natural function.

This nun has a good, copious supply and you can see it beginning to trickle down her inner thighs. No doubt you are all experiencing similar natural stimuli, and are yourselves oozing in readiness for your own personal test.' There was a general nod all round between the nuns together with some licking of dry lips.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 07



The squatting nun slowly lowered herself onto the stiff penis whilst the others watched avidly with eager eyes as it sank, bit by bit, between her moist lips.

'Now, slide your groin up and down twelve times. The other nuns also wish to sample the feel of the male organ implant inside them before it ejaculates.' And the dark-haired nun raised and lowered herself slowly to the obvious delight of the others.

'Right, time to change over. It may be necessary, at times, to lubricate the penis with saliva to allow easy penetration of the vagina. Particularly if the penis is a thick specimen or the lady's vagina on the dry side.'

Emma leaned forward, took George's stiffness in her mouth, giving it a generous covering of her saliva as she rocked her mouth up and down it lightly. She then hoisted her skirt and slowly lowered herself onto the offered penis closely watched by the others. Her complete anonymity aroused her lust so that after twelve strokes, she was desperate for more.

The other nuns followed this example, one after the other, lifting their black habits up to the waist, sinking their loins onto the erect penis, whilst the rest looked on with keen interest, eyes shining and licking their dry lips, as the stiff penis penetrated their vulvas one after the other.

When all the nuns had tasted the delights of George's stiff erection, the Mother took it in her grasp, pumping it up and down in front of their eager eyes.

'And now, sisters, to the moment when the seed is ejaculated from the end of the penis, to flood the cervix and seek the egg to penetrate.'

Still pumping the cock, the Mother Superior crouched in front of George's groin, with open mouth. He had almost reached his climax during the nuns' trials and it wasn't long before his buttocks jerked violently, erupting several jets of starchy semen spurted into the Mother's open lips, some it dribbling onto her black habit, white pearls on black fabric.

The nuns squealed and clapped their hands together with delight at this amazing sight. The leader passed from nun to nun, kissing each one on her lips to pass on a sample of the sperm from her mouth, before swallowing the remains.

'The Lord has given us these physical attributes for enjoyment in the act of love, but we nuns have sworn to denounce such pleasures of the flesh. When the need arises you must come to me for solace.' The nuns watched the penis begin to slowly deflate.

Julie had stood aside to watch this performance with relish and arousal. Now, as the nuns thrilled to the sight of George's ejaculation, she peered into the bar to see how Anne was getting on.

Anne was bent over the table, whimpering in the middle of orgasmic contortions. Julie's eyes glistened with exultation at Anne's joy. Julie moved into the room.

'Now, gentlemen, please remove your underpants and shoes, and come with me for private absolution.'

The men wasted no time in carrying out the request and stood in line at the door. Julie stared with greedy eyes at the dark brown half-filled tube lolling over the large bag of testicles as Jake stepped out of his pants. She licked her lips in eager anticipation of feeling it penetrate her. 'Soon,' she thought! 

Tearing her eyes away, she returned to the lounge where she spoke to the nuns. 'There are five more men waiting to be inspected.'

The Mother Superior turned to the others. 'Stand in a line sisters, and we'll escort them away in turn as they enter.' She turned to Julie. 'We're quite ready.' Julie opened the door and beckoned the men to enter.

Emma was taken aback at the sight of five masked men in morning coats and bowler hats, naked from the waist down. Her eyes couldn't decide which penis to rest on first. She looked from one to the other. All five were in a state of partial arousal, swinging between their thighs as they approached the line of masked nuns. Each was met by a nun, smiling behind her mask, which lead him by his genitals into another part of the room.

Although supposedly unaware of their identities, Emma found Bill. She guided him by his swelling protrusion to the corner of the room where she had him lay on the carpet. She examined his genitals in detail. His penis was of average length, though unusually thick, surrounded by a mass of fair pubic hair covering enormous testicles.

'Now, they're really something,' Emma thought. 'Bigger than Jakes!'

She stroked his hairy thighs, nuzzled his genitals, thoroughly engrossed in her private sexuality with the stranger. She remembered the thrill of her first experience with a stranger on her eighteenth birthday and her first smell of sex.

After rolling the foreskin back and forth a few times, Emma lifted her black skirt, straddling his waist facing his feet. Taking the stiff penis in one hand, she held it in one hand to rub it over her hot, wet vulva. She stabbed it under the hood of her clitoris, rolling the hard head against it to masturbate herself.

When the excitement in the pit of her stomach reached breaking point, she sank heavily onto the penis, feeling its girth pushing through the supple walls of her vagina, stretching the folds. The sensation was exhilarating.

Emma bounced savagely up and down on it, desperately trying to reach the elusive relief. With the fingers of her other hand, she clawed at her clitoris, anxious to add to the final thrill. Her breathing became loud, gasping out audibly for sexual satisfaction.

It was almost there! Hump, hump, hump! 'Oh! Come on! Come on!' she shrieked to herself.

Emma tried to push the huge testicles into her passage in her frustration. 'God! I'm coming! I'm there!' And the gates of her orgasm crashed open, coursing through her as she continued to bounce uncontrollably onto the erect penis filling her vagina. She was aware of the cock inside her pitching and knew that the seed of life was being pumped into her.

Within a few minutes all the other nun's vaginas were enjoying being serviced by solid rods of male flesh. Some were on their backs, others bent over with legs wide apart, others sat astride their partner, all with their black habits hoisted up to the waist.

Julie saw Mary, the Mother Superior, clutch at Jake, leading him to an armchair to enjoy that weapon of sheer joy.

'I'll have him later,' she thought. She herself joined George on the ottoman, sitting over his lap, facing him, her well-lubricated and eager vulva impaled fully on his freshly aroused projection.

George sighed with contentment. 'How did you know my fantasy was to fuck a nun?'

'Ah!' Julie replied. 'A little novice told me!' And she started to bounce up and down impatiently on his sturdy prick. Very soon, the room was full of various sounds of pleasure and squeals of surprise and delight. One by one the noise of orgasmic relief was heard above the general orchestration of lovemaking, until all were spent and the clamour subsided.

After a well-earned rest, satisfied laughter and relaxation, whilst lunch was being prepared, the guests all retired to their rooms, retaining the secret of their identity. Except that one or two of the women had recognised the vital parts of their partners.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 08



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities. The Host had told of the birthday orgy involving a current top film star, and the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor. Fantasies involving nuns and priests had also been acted out.

Chapter Eight - The Marketing Director's Tale

On the second day, after dinner, the guests moved into the warm lounge with its blazing log fire and subdued lighting. Anne and Mary, scantily clothed, poured coffee and liqueurs as Julie came into the centre of the group.

'Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks as though were here for some time yet. So, now you're all settled, our story this evening is from Martin, who is going to tell us about a smooth-taking lecher whose elaborate plans to seduce his secretary were foiled.'

Martin, an international marketing director for a food company, was a quiet fair haired man with good strong features, large blue eyes, straight nose and square chin. He was of average build but not yet running to fat and very aristocratic-looking. At thirty-two, he seemed average in other ways, having a perfectly straight and sturdy six inch penis. Unfortunately, he wasn't always able to control his discharge which often resulted in a generous flow of oozing semen, long before the climax hit him. 

But he enjoyed a lavish international life style, often seen in national society magazines with his attractive Television presenter wife, Delia. With her winning smile and attractive blonde features, she was a photographer's dream. Her calm exterior and imperious bearing, head held high with a tendency to look down her nose, gave her a slightly superior air. In spite of the media exposure, they had remained married for longer than most celebrities.

Delia often claimed to her friends that half the male population masturbated in front of her when she was on screen, splattering their TV with sperm! Camera crews drooled over her and fellow presenters tried to chat her up. But she kept aloof, private and mysterious, only letting herself go among trusted friends.

Martin came forward and sat in the storyteller's armchair adjacent to the fireplace with his coffee and brandy which he set on a table at the side of him. He told this story.

Edward never acknowledged the name Ted. He ignored anyone who called him by that name. He had been christened Edward, and that was his name. Not Ted, nor Ed, nor Eddie. Edward. He was thirty-five, had fair, wavy hair, his only facial blemish - if indeed it was one - being a slight cast in his right eye. He spoke softly and carefully with a slight nasal tone, meticulously cultivated to impress the American directors of the company for which he worked.

Edward had a sumptuous office. He sat at a large desk devoid of papers except for those he was currently working on. In the top right-hand drawer, he kept a yellow duster to keep the desk-top spotlessly clean and free from dust. His three telephones, one red, one white and one black, were on a side table to his left.

Ever since he was told by an American psychologist over dinner one evening that to use the left ear made a person respond more crisply and more intelligently than if they used the right ear, he used only his left ear when speaking on the phone.

He always dressed immaculately in a dark grey suit made-to-measure in the West End, a white silk shirt with gold cufflinks and a light grey tie. A carefully arranged white silk handkerchief was tucked in the top pocket of his jacket. His aftershave was the latest vogue in men's perfumery.

Edward's personal secretary - not private secretary, but a personal one - sat at a desk outside his office. Delia was a strikingly beautiful girl of twenty years. In fact, she was a remarkable lookalike of Grace Kelly. Her blonde hair was swept back into a bun without a stray hair to be seen. Edward wouldn't have allowed it. Her eyes were a bright blue and her skin clear and fresh looking.

She was a serious-looking girl, though. Not that she had any serious thoughts, it was more of a blank expression, reflecting the state of her mental activity. Delia had that serene appearance of purity and innocence. It was one of Edward's ambitions to seduce Delia. And, since he almost always got what he wanted, he was prepared to wait, taking great care with his planning.

He planned his campaign of Delia's seduction as he would market a new product. He had already taken Delia to lunch at expensive restaurants on several occasions. On these occasions the other diners would turn to admire the beautiful lady as she came into the dining room. Several would, no doubt, believe that they had dined in the same restaurant as Grace Kelly, telling their friends all about it that same evening.

Delia was, of course, perfectly aware of what Edward was after. She was, in fact, rather surprised that he hadn't yet invited her into his bed. Delia, however, didn't fancy Edward at all. Had she done so, she would have opened her legs for him long ago. But she just didn't fancy him.

For a start, he was too pernickety. Perhaps, if he should invite her to accompany him on one of his exotic visits abroad, she might think about getting into his bed as recompense. Though with Edward, she thought, sex would be too much of a hassle. He would give me a performance just to show off his sexual prowess.

On the Friday evening, ten days before Delia's first Christmas working for Edward, the company held its staff party. A catering company had been retained to provide a first class buffet meal with a well-stocked bar. Wine and ale would flow freely. A dance band had also been hired for the evening with entertainment by a well-known comedian.

The large area was lavishly embellished with miles of decorations, a large Christmas tree at each end of the room and, around it, several smaller ones festooned with trimmings and tree-lights. Tables were arranged round the room, leaving a sizable dancing square in the centre. Boyfriend, girlfriend and spouses were invited to the party, but most of the staff came on their own to see what spare male, or female, talent might be available for a spot of flirting. About a hundred and fifty people were expected. 

It so happened that Edward was in America, not expected to return until Sunday. Because Delia had no current boyfriend, and knowing how she would be pestered if she went singly, she had decided not to go to the party. Her mother said it would be a shame to miss out on such a lavish party. So, if Delia wished to go, she would be pleased to go along as her guest and chaperon. Besides, it would be a welcome night out for her as well. After some hesitation, Delia said OK, so it was agreed.

Now, Delia's mother, Alison, was born in Bath. She was such a beautiful lady with a graceful figure and refined looks that most men thought her frigid and untouchable. How looks can lie! Alison had had two husbands, but had been far from a faithful wife. Her sex drive was too high-powered for that.

Alison's second husband had found her too demanding, leaving her to live a quiet life in a small bachelor flat. Like Chaucer's Wife of Bath before her, with the same name, whose exploits she had read, Alison's sexual boredom factor was low.

'Alas, alas, that ever love was sin!' She believed that it would be wrong to fight her basic personality. So she hunted and seduced where she felt desire. Following the example of her esteemed predecessor, she called her genitals her quoniam. An uglier word than vagina, perhaps, but more mysterious and erotic; or so she thought.

Having reached the age of forty-two her appetite for sex was greater than it had ever been in her life, which meant that she just couldn't get enough. Her quoniam constantly ached for attention, getting insufficient to keep its fire slaked. So she determined to have a good time at the party and, if she could, seduce a young, clean, virile man.

Alison and Delia made a stunning pair of extremely beautiful, sophisticated ladies. Even the taxi driver, usually immune to sights such as these, was overcome by their beauty. When they arrived outside the company's offices in Waterloo Place, there was already much activity. A doorman came to open the door of the taxi for the two beauties as Delia paid the cabby before hurrying to the entrance.

At the top of the staircase leading down to the reception area was the ladies' cloakroom. After touching up their make-up and hair arrangements, they went down to the reception area, clutching their matching evening handbag.

The Managing Director, Bernard Hathaway-Jones, and the Marketing Director, David Lutyens, were clearly impressed by the sight of two exquisitely beautiful ladies approaching them. It took David a second or two to recognise Delia with her flowing blonde hair, but he greeted her with much warmth and courteous enthusiasm.

Her mother was introduced, being received by both men with much effusive admiration. David was particularly attentive, escorting them to his personal table, saying that he would join them for a drink shortly. Meantime, he beckoned over a waiter, ordered two glasses of chilled champagne, two bottles of Moet et Chandon to be put into ice buckets and three glasses.

David had always lusted after Delia. She was the most attractive of the secretaries amongst his London staff. Tonight, he thought, she looked sensational. David was in his late thirties, estranged from his South African wife, and the son of a colonial baronet. His slim, athletic figure was kept in trim with a half-hour workout each morning.

He was glad Edward's not here he decided, as he returned to the reception area where Bernard, now in his paunchy fifties, was overwhelmed by the two gorgeous-looking, self-assured women.

'Wish I was a bit younger, by Jove, eh, David? I would certainly fancy my chances there!'

The younger man smiled at his boss. He'd never heard him express any views about women, or indeed sex, before. 'Bernard! Surely you're not passed it yet!'

'Certainly not, old boy! But the ladies think I am!' He lowered his voice. To tell the truth, old boy, I'm reduced to having to pay for a bit of enjoyment these days!' He barked with laughter.

As the waiter brought the glasses of champagne with an ice-bucket with two bottles, Alison and Delia were approached by two young men from the personnel staff, well-known to Delia, who invited them to dance. The room was getting noisy and hot, already fairly full of rocking couples.

Alison was well pleased with the stir she was creating among the men. They turned heads to look at her, wondering who this beautiful lady could possibly be. Alison thought that she might well encourage the young man by pressing herself closer to him and holding him a little tighter than necessary during the slow footrot. He smiled warmly at her.

She returned the smile. A slight stirring in the front of his trousers reassured her that he was interested in more than just dancing with her.

Returning to the table after the dance, Delia and her dancing partner had already got there. David had also arrived, and the champagne was being poured. After inviting the two young men to join them, two more men came up to ask Delia to be introduced to her charming companion.

One of them, Jack, was David's assistant whilst the other, James, was a merchandising manager. The two ladies had no sooner joined in the general toast of 'Cheers!' with a sip of champagne than they were whisked away for a dance by the two newcomers where they enjoyed yet more flattery and attention.

Bill was Alison's new dancing partner who explained that he worked in another of the marketing departments. Alison promised to take a look his product display later in the evening, they rejoined David's table. 

Delia and Alison had, by this time, five attractive men paying them attendance, taking it in turn to dance with first one, then the other. The men were, by this time of course, slightly tipsy and becoming rather impertinent, when dancing, making immodest comments to the ladies about their outstanding figures.

As the evening wore on the dancing partners became bolder, holding the ladies closer, stroking their bottoms as casually as they could. Neither lady objected to this attention. After all, most of the other dancers were doing the same.

Alison made up her mind to screw David's brains out before the end of the evening, whatever else she did. She was conscious of his swelling, prominent beneath his evening trousers, though not fully erect, pressing into her groin. One of his hands was stroking the bare flesh between her shoulder blades in a provocative way.

She casually rubbed her groin against his as they danced together provoking a responsive jerking in his trousers. Alison looked up at him smiling sweetly.

'Oh dear! What have I done?'

'I think you have a pretty good idea, you tease. We may have to leave the dance floor for a quiet drink to give time for it to subside.'

Alison pouted her lips. 'Oh, what a shame. It felt quite interesting. She pressed herself hard against him so that she could distinctly feel his stiffness pushing against her belly. 'That's nice, but naughty!'

'I like being naughty, don't you?'

'Oh yes, I just adore it. Can we be naughty together, do you think?'

David looked at her quizzically. 'Not here, and not just now. Perhaps after supper. I'll think of something.' 

Delia was no less in demand, enjoying a similar piece of teasing as her mother. Poor Jack was red with embarrassment when Delia pressed herself against his hardness as they danced together. She gave him a sympathetic smile. 'Don't worry, Jack, it's just the natural lusty male reaction. It's easier for me. You can't feel my enthusiasm quite so easily.' After a pause she added, 'I can feel it though!"'

Jack was encouraged by this. 'How about if I feel it for myself?'

Delia giggled. 'You mischievous thing! Certainly not!' She ground her belly into his swelling adding 'Well, not just now, anyway! Later perhaps!'

She was enjoying teasing the men tonight who had all reacted properly if stiffly.

So far, she thought, James has got the stiffest though David's seems to be the biggest! Poor men, she mused, they can't get turned on without it being obvious.

Before sitting down for supper, with soaked knickers, Delia excused herself to go to the powder room to dry herself. Her mother joined her for a similar reason. They both had a good laugh together comparing the various states of the stiff male members they had pressed up against. Both agreed that they were having fun.

Teasing's OK, but I don't intend going any further, mother. I mean! Think of me having to face the staff on Monday if I did! These things soon get round, you know. Men can't keep a confidence of that sort.'

Her mother smiled in sympathy. 'You'll not be the only one. I expect there'll be other blushing secretaries come Monday.' 

During the meal, Alison sat next to David. She asked him nonchalantly where his office was saying that she would like the chance to see round the executive floor. David explained that he would have to pop into the offices later to check the teleprinter for messages. Perhaps she would like to accompany him?

His voice was matter of fact but his intentions were clear to her. He was aroused at the prospect of exploring the warm secret between Alison's warm thighs. Alison smiled at him with a slight nod of acceptance, unobtrusively reaching under the table cloth into David's lap, to squeeze the swelling she felt in his groin. She was heartened by the splendid shape she felt beneath his fabric of his trousers. 

Delia, who sat on other side of David and next to James, also understood the significance of the overheard invitation, noticing the slight movement of her mother's arm underneath the table. She knew what her mother was up to. Delia announced offhand that she had expected a message earlier in the day from Edward, which may have arrived after she had left the office early to get ready for the party. She would need to go and check shortly, she told James sweetly, smiling at him sympathetically. She stroked his thigh softly, each stroke taking her fingers closer to the bulge of his already stiff penis straining at the fabric. Delia gently traced its outline being rewarded with a responding jerk. She patted his bulge affectionately, smiling at him before removing her hand in case his enthusiasm overflowed inside his trousers.

When, after coffee and cognac, Brian and Bill left the table to visit the toilets, David suggested showing Alison the executive office suite.

'We'll come with you.' Delia announced, as she got up she pulled James to his feet. 'Come on, James. We're taking a walk. Excuse us, Brian.'

The four left the room to just round the corner where a lift was already waiting. They went to the fifth floor, stepping out into the deep pile carpet of the executive suite. There was a deep silence. Widely spaced low-wattage emergency lights were the only lights, augmented by street lamps shining in through the windows. This was enough light for Alison to absorb the elegance and luxury of the office area. All four crossed the darkened reception area in silence. Delia unlocked Edward's office suite.

As soon as they got into the room, Alison stepped to the front of the Guy Rogers sofa. Wasting no time, she turned to face David, took him in her arms with a deep intake of breath, and kissed him passionately. Her tongue prised his lips apart and explored his hot mouth; one hand stroked the back of his head, fingers feverishly snaking through his hair, the other pulling his waist close to hers.

By the time Delia had closed the door behind them and turned round, her mother was already in an ardent embrace with David. She hadn't expected her mum to get involved with her daughter around. But Alison's hands were already smoothing over David's shoulders, removing his jacket which she threw over a chair.

His belt went next whilst Alison crushed her tongue passionately into his mouth. Although a bit taken aback by the sudden assault, David responded by stroking his hands sensuously down her back. Finding the top of a zip-fastener, he unfastened her gown down to the cleavage of the luscious cheeks of her bottom.

As Alison shrugged away the gown, her naked breasts sprang into view. She stepped back, the gown falling to her ankles, to reveal her black lace French knickers and silk stockings held up by scarlet garters. The gown kicked to one side, she stumbled back into David's waiting arms with an animal growl of lust.

David clutched her loose breasts pressing himself into her, rubbing the hardened nipples in his palms. Alison reached between their bodies, unfastened the waistband of his trousers, and pushed them impatiently over his hips, down to his knees. Her thumbs hooked into the top of his underpants, dragging them down his thighs, sliding down his body at the same time to kneel in front of him.

She was getting desperate! Couldn't wait for it! Alison was impatient to see it, to kiss it, to nuzzle it, feel it penetrating her. His powerful penis sprang out in front of her eyes!

Moaning greedily, Alison gazed at the proud object of her lust, with its swarthy stiffness and tracery of thick veins. She noticed the slight upward bend in it as she took the beautiful, all-powerful staff in one hand, cradling his heavy balls in the other. What strength and power in these, she thought, drawing the bulbous head towards her mouth. A droplet of liquid had already oozed from the eye of his manhood.

After peeling the foreskin over the pronounced purple ridge she ran her tongue around it, kissing the tip in homage to the plaything about to pleasure her. The gusset of her French knickers were frenziedly unbuttoned with her other hand, desperate to fill her quoniam with this powerful stranger. She fell backwards into the sofa pulling David down on top of her, guiding his stiffness to the portals of her wet quoniam.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 08



Prodding it between the soaking, puffed lips, the probing shaft nudged its way into the warm waiting opening. She was growling with impatience.

'Come on lover, get it in! Fill it! Fuck it! I'm desperate for it!' And, in less time than it takes to tell, Alison was being screwed.

'Ahhhhrgh! Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!' She breathed a long sigh to herself unable to share that delicious moment of penetration with anyone. Her only thought was of her own sensation, the thick column of masculinity pushing her honeyed lips aside, filling her wet flesh.

She whispered fiercely, 'Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Come on! Give it to me!'

David responded by thrusting hard into her warm vulva, plunging in and out with extraordinary vigour accompanied by grunts of effort. Alison's eyes were tightly clenched, her head rolling from side to side in a delirium of joy. She gripped his powerful, plunging penis with the internal muscles of her quoniam, thrusting her hips against him in time to his own rhythm.

At last, she was being ravished by a virile male! It was thrilling! Her whole body was reacting. She was in her private paradise!

But, alas! In no time at all, David's groin began to buck wildly at her, thrashing deep and violently into her. He couldn't control himself. With a stifled grunt he spurted his offering into her. Alison mewled with delight squeezing her fanny hard to expel every last drop from his jerking penis. Even so, she was disappointed it was over so quickly. Her own orgasm wasn't very far away. Tantalisingly close.

'Sod it! Hell! Keep it going!' Her fingers clawed at her clitoris and ground against her sex lips to maintain the excitement. But he was already beginning to droop.

Her disappointment was quickly overcome. His place was taken by another stiff penis! A different shape and size, plunging and heaving into her with long, unhurried, strokes. A pair of thick thumbs were massaging her inner thighs, squeezing together the sides of her sensitive button.

Delia hadn't realised there was anyone else in the room other than James. She opened her eyes, the excitement beginning to swell up inside her, and saw it was Bill hammering his groin at her. Where he had come from she had no idea. She didn't care, either, as heavy balls slapped against the white cheeks of her bottom. Her legs curled round the heaving loins to grip him tighter, pulling him deeper inside her body with slick ease, her passage now lubricated with David's sperm.

Ecstasy started to flood over her with increasing power until, with a long rasping whine of triumph the wave crashed over into a stunning orgasm. Her loins thrashed in long convulsions. Feet battered against the still plunging loins as the climax swept through her. Sheer rapture!

While all this was happening, Delia had also been busy. As soon as she got into the room she crossed to the desk, looking at the various papers, her back to the others. James was aroused to a fever pitch of lust at the sight of Alison surrendering herself to uninhibited wantonness, David plunging into her.

James grabbed Delia in his arms, twisted her round, kissed her violently and tugged the top of her dress to get at the tempting tits beneath. Delia returned James' kiss, but, aroused though she was, she pushed his hands away, arching her back from him, grunting her disapproval. 

'No, James. Wait! You'll tear my gown!'

Suddenly, she felt the zip behind her back being pulled down. 'What the ...' Taken by surprise, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jack behind her. She hadn't even noticed him come in!

When Jack and Bill had returned from the toilet, Brian told them that the ladies had gone up to the executive suite with David and James. Not wanting to be left out of any fun, the three of them had followed straight away, using the stairs. They had reached Edward's office just as Alison was dragging David to his knees between her splayed thighs with James looking on, goggle-eyed.

When James grabbed Delia by the waist, twisted her round and started to embrace her, they slipped silently into the office. Jack immediately stepped up to Delia to unzip her dress, desperate to see those marvellous breasts. He had fantasised about them so often, he was now determined to see them in the flesh. James got the message, slipped fingers under the shoulder straps of the dress and slipped them off her shoulders, over her arms.

Jack unhooked her strapless bra. Her glorious full breasts bounced into view in all their free glory. He gazed in sheer admiration before putting his arms round her to grasp the objects of his passion, one in each hand.

James had lowered his trousers to reveal a long, throbbing hard-on. Delia looked down at it. Already fully aroused herself, she glanced across at her mother's animated body enjoying its pleasure. Hell, she thought, so what's a job? I can always find another. She was soaking wet, her muscles twitching with lust. Bending forward over the end of the bare desk Delia hooked her thumbs into her knickers. Together with the gown, she pushed them to her ankles, kicking them free.

'Who's first?' she asked hoarsely.

A pair of hands gripped her legs parting them. It was Brian, who was mesmerised by the sight of Delia's sex lips pouting from the soft blonde curls between her thighs and the other pinkish-brown, puckered orifice between the rounded cheeks. James sank to his knees between the pale thighs, placed his mouth over the nectar-shrouded vulva and pushed his tongue deep into the cleft.

When his tongue found the hard little button where the honeyed lips joined, a spontaneous tremble inside her belly jolted Delia's thighs further apart. She pushed them at the hot, exploring mouth. James savoured the sweetness of her nectar on his tongue as he gazed at the plump, succulent cleft with its inviting protruding lips. He stood, placed the end of his now roused penis between her wet lips and thrust it firmly into the delicious inner warmth of her vulva.

Hearing whimpers of anguish, Delia turned her head to see her mother raise her hips underneath David's bucking. Bill was standing beside David, unfastening his trousers. After David had withdrawn his smeared shaft and stood aside, Bill got between Alison's thighs, manoeuvring his engorged banana-like penis at her entrance.

He placed his palms on her groin with his thumbs together squeezing her clitoris, before thrusting himself roughly into her. Alison opened her eyes, cried out with joy, her body jerking uncontrollably as she reached her peak of devouring passion with a stifled, tearing yell.

Delia's attention was drawn back to her own aroused sensations as James pistoned vigorously in and out of her whilst the others watched with mounting excitement. Her body squirmed in response to the steady rhythm caressing her inner warmth. Delia pushed her buttocks against the hard invader, striving for deeper penetration

The others were keen to join in and Jack turned Delia's head to confront his own half-filled penis. Moans of pleasure escaped her as she greedily took the stiffening shaft into her warm mouth, tasting its salty tang. Her body began to tense and shake with a growing crisis. Moving her head feverishly backwards and forwards on the hard shaft, she began to reach her own pinnacle of delight. But before she could get there, Jack's rhythm faltered, gave a lurch or two and he slipped out of her grip.

Delia moaned with frustration and beat the top of the desk with her fists. To her relief, another rigid shaft slid deep into her, thrusting in and out with strong, hard strokes. The penis slipped from her mouth as unseen hands drew her bodily away from the desk, the new invader still pumping energetically into her slippery hot flesh, until her arms and shoulders rested on the front edge of the desk.

Her full breasts now hung free, the nipples swollen and firm, to be fondled by eager exploring fingers. Delia closed her eyes to concentrate on the delicious feeling between her thighs. Her inner muscles clenched fitfully at the delightful sliding flesh. Internal convulsions built up again, one after another, each getting more intense as they washed over her senses until she burst into a crashing climax, her bottom ramming erratically against her penetrator.

A stifled cry of delicious torment was evidence of her triumph over frustration. After that she forgot any reservations she may have had about the person fucking her. If she was going to lose her job, she'd make it worthwhile. She concentrated only on that part she felt embedded deep within her clamouring flesh. The whole erotic scenario had aroused her lewdness and she was impatient for as much as she could get.

David stood back recovering, watching the two gorgeous ladies with naked, pale splayed thighs, being wilfully ravished. He listened to their murmurs and moans of enjoyment, mingled with the grunts of exertions from the men pounding hard into their bellies. As he heard Delia cry out in her orgasm, David felt cool air swirl against the back of his bare legs.

He turned to see Bernard standing in the doorway with a dropped jaw. David held his finger to his lips and beckoned to him.

'The ladies really wanted this. They actually asked for it! Just listen to them!"'

They were certainly whimpering and moaning with enthusiasm, voicing their physical passion. Bernard had come up to his own office to replenish his cigar case when he heard the scuffles in Edward's office across the central area. He had gone to investigate.

The sight of the two beautiful ladies, with bouncing breasts, open naked thighs, being serviced by five trouserless men sporting jutting erections, had taken him aback. He looked at David perplexed.

'Can anyone join in?' he asked quietly.

David shrugged and, without waiting for an answer, Bernard moved to the side of Bill who was beginning to pant as his climax drew near, jerking violently into Alison. There was no way Bernard's could get his corpulent shape between her spread thighs to penetrate her from a kneeling position. With Bill's help, Bernard lifted her thighs and rolled her over in one move, so that she was draped, face down, over the arm of the settee, her shoulders dropping onto the cushion seats.

Bernard stared at the gaping sloppy portal displayed shamelessly to him in the glow of the street lamps outside. Dropping his trousers from his overhanging paunch, he opened the gap in his underpants, took his thickening penis in his hand and guided it into the oozing, fleshy orifice.

Alison cried out with rapture as she felt herself filled yet again. For Alison there was no other feeling in the world to match that of a fulfilled quoniam. The identity of the man at the other end of the prick was of no longer of any interest to her. So long as it filled her cavity and pounded into her, the owner was of no consequence to her in the least. She was in heaven!

She agreed with the seventeenth century writer who had proposed that a woman is ten times more inclined to, and delight in copulation than a man. To give the lady's vulva full justice, Bernard was obliged to hoist up his paunch with both his hands to achieve the deepest penetration. He arched backwards to thrust his thighs at the delightful opening.

It was some time since Bernard had been with a woman; he was enjoying the smooth experience. So was Alison, who was groaning with shameless delight in her depravity. 

When Bernard had mounted Alison, James knelt at the side of the chesterfield, to fondle her large, stunning breasts, rolling her protruding stiff nipples with the ball of his thumb. Opening her eyes, Alison saw in front of her, James' softened manhood, still showing the signs of Delia's nectar on its shaft.

She cupped the taught testicles in her right palm to lift the genitals to her lips. She opened her mouth, took in the soft penis and gently tongued it. Alison enjoyed the feel of a penis inflating in the mouth until it reached bursting point, ready to bow to her will.

She whimpered softly with sheer delight whilst James was completely absorbed by Bernard's thick slippery penis gripped between soft slick lips, thrusting in and out of the stretched vulva. The sheer sexiness of the sight excited him to a pitch he had never before experienced.

David watched Jack empty himself into Delia with five stifled grunts accompanying the jerks, then positioned himself to take Jack's place. At last, David thought, I'm going to fuck the most beautiful secretary in the office. When Jack finally withdrew and stepped back, Delia's honeyed crimson lips were spread open like inviting petals, begging for attention.

David cupped the whole vulva in the palm of his hand, feeling the semen trickling from Delia's hot, sticky entry. He caressed the genitals softly, savouring the feeling, paddling his fingers between the swollen lips and massaging the clitoris. Delia moaned and squirmed her groin against the tender, fondling hand.

'Oh yes! That's good! Slip it in! Come on! I want it!'

David could wait no longer. He put his prick against the entrance to Delia's paradise, gently parted the lovely pink lips with his fingers, and slipped between them. He watched intently as his taut rod slowly sank into the deep, sloppy warmth. With a murmur of contentment he penetrated the inviting orifice to the very root of his penis. He was in paradise. At last, he'd realised his fantasy!

Delia echoed his sigh of rapture. She was in heaven. Her brain was spinning.

'Fuck me! Fuck me! Give me all of it! Every inch!' she cried fervently.

Whilst Delia was being screwed by David, Bernard finally shot his sperm into Alison and was immediately replaced by the highly aroused James who couldn't wait to sink himself deep into that beautiful lady.

And so, for upwards of an hour, each of the two ladies enjoyed the full devotion of six men in nonstop energetic, powerful copulation with massage and stimulation of breasts, caressed bodies and all the effects of carnal pleasure. The women handled a range of testicles, some tight, others dangling, savouring the variation between them.

They nuzzled the different genitals, enjoying, both in mouth and vulva, the shapes and thicknesses of each penis. All six gave the ladies untold pleasure and countless orgasms - some small and some overwhelming - until their quoniams became swollen.

Bernard, surprised at his own forgotten virility, left the office after he had managed a second discharge into Delia, pleased with his performance. The other men also slipped away after their lusts were slaked, no longer of any use to the ladies. Only David and James remained.

Whilst the fatigued, contented ladies were recovering sprawled in David's arms, one either side of him on the chesterfield, James took four glasses and a bottle from Edward's private cocktail cabinet, generously filled the goblets with golden brandy which he placed on the coffee table. He stood there, looking down at the two ladies.

The sight of Delia laying in a state of tousled disarray, naked breasts proudly displaying their swollen dark nipples, her thighs still slightly parted, revealing her drenched blonde curls and reddened pouting lips still open like a flower aroused his lust yet again. In spite of her untidiness, she still looked tempting.

James knelt between her knees, placed his mouth softly over her swollen mound, gently licking and sucking her tender lips. Delia closed her eyes, whimpering softly as she hinged her legs open wider to enjoy the soothing lapping on her swollen quoniam.

The moans became more intense as she climbed yet again to the peak of excitement, a fulfilling, if not exactly shattering, orgasm. James now turned his attention to Alison's puffed vulva. He slithered himself into position between her thighs, gripped the cheeks of her buttocks.

With one finger lightly toying with the brown puckered entrance to her other orifice, now wet with trickling juices, he piercing her bruised entrance with his pointed tongue, lapping at her open lips and bud. At the same timer he inserted his middle finger deep into her rear passage. Almost unexpectedly, Alison's loins bucked recklessly as James held on to her buttocks, working his tongue strenuously at the quoniam.

Her whole body shook and trembled uncontrollably, until she felt a massive eruption inside her, centred on her bud. It crashed over her, shattering her entire body into a thousand agonizing barbs of joy. A shout of tormented conquest accompanied her physical convulsions. Both the men were drained dry by the hungry demands of the women.

The following day, Delia went into the empty offices to leave her resignation on Edward's desk and to pack up her personal belongings. When Edward returned to work early on the Monday morning, he was surprised and disappointed by Delia's letter of resignation. He had brought her an expensive gift from the States, intending to invite her to accompany him to Paris where he hoped, finally, to seduce her.

Bill dropped by into Edward's room to ask how he was, but in reality, to tell him about the party, to gloat about the sexual exploits with Delia and her mother, right there in his office. The mother in the chesterfield and Delia across his polished desk. Edward was well trained in hiding his emotions.

He was, nevertheless, taken aback at the news that Delia had been screwed by six members of the staff - including the boss! Ah well, he thought, the expensive gift will have to keep for my next secretary.

Edward smiled thinly at Bill.

'Well, you lucky things! What you get up to when I'm away! You'll need to get me a temp for a while until we can find a suitable permanent replacement. The usual specification.'

After looking round the room, he added, 'and Bill, I think I'll have a change of office furniture. Can you arrange for me to have a new desk and settee, please?'

There was a flutter of laughter and applause at the end of Martin's story. By general consent, Edward was generally thought to have got his just deserts. He shouldn't have dallied so long, even though he had believed Delia to be an innocent woman who would require much careful wooing. Perhaps he ought to take more care of his wife, or even better, invite her along to The Travellers' Rest for a relaxing weekend! This provoked even more amusement.

'Well,' suggested Susan, 'there are those who, like Alison, doesn't worry about who she has sex with. There are others who say there's no difference - who, in the dark, couldn't tell the difference between the husband - or wife for that matter - and a stranger! So what was so special with his secretary?'

'Nonsense!' cried Laurie. 'All you ladies are singular beings. Not just sexual receptacles for goodness' sake! So are we men, I hope, not just sexual tools. That's what makes it so exciting.'

'The best aphrodisiac in the world is a new partner. Don't we all know that?' insisted Delia. 'I mean, isn't that's why we come to these parties?'

Whilst they argued the point, Mary and Anne brought in trays of hot drinks and plates of cheese and biscuits. Emma chose a cup of hot chocolate. To Emma's pleasure, Bill brought his cup of coffee and joined her on the settee. 

'We've all missed the point, Emma. As you told me this morning, there are those who need more variety than others.'

'Yes,' Emma admitted, 'but I think there should be some attraction between the couple, don't you?'

'Why? You enjoyed a stranger for your first experience. Was there any attraction there?'

'Well, in a way. I can't explain it properly. For example, when I role-played a nun this afternoon, I was very attracted to the stranger I had.'

'Did you know who it was. Would you recognise him a second time?'

'Ah, perhaps I have without knowing it.'

Bill gazed into her eyes with a twinkle. 'I think I'd recognise you, had you been the stranger.'




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 08



'Oh, come on now, Bill! You've nothing to go on, have you? We haven't been in a naked embrace.'

'Well that can soon be put right.'

Emma chuckled. 'Are you propositioning me?'

'Yes!'

'You can't be serious, Bill! There are women here far more beautiful than me. There's Gertie for a start. She's stunningly beautiful. And what a perfect figure.'

'Yes, she is very beautiful. All models are. That's why they're models. And of course she has the perfect figure. That's why most men want to see her naked, fantasise about making love to her. No! Not to her - to it! Her body! They just see a wonderfully shaped piece of attractive flesh. But that's as far as it goes with me. On the other hand, you are an attractive, interesting lady. I'd like to get to know you better and what better way than to make love?'

Emma reprimanded him playfully. 'Make love? What has love got to do with it? I thought you were all here for a weekend of free and uninhibited sex. I've nothing against that, I hasten to add, but satisfying your body's hunger for sex, can't be described as making love.'

'Not with you, Emma! Exploring each other's character, both mind and body, will, to me, be an act of love. Rather more subtle than just a vigorous fuck or two, pleasant though that would be.'

Emma looked at him pensively. 'But what about Gertie?'

Bill looked across the room. 'She seems to be happily occupied elsewhere. I don't think she'll miss me.'

Emma looked across at Gertie, talking earnestly to Robert, rubbing her open palm against the large bulge in his crotch whilst he cupped in the palm of his hand one of her full breasts still covered by the silk gown.

'And Julie?'

Bill nodded over his shoulder. 'She seems otherwise engaged with your big dark friend.' And sure enough Julie had her face close to Jake's, covering it with soft kisses, his hands having replaced the cups of her bra, supporting Julie's superb breasts, with their long, swollen nipples.

'Julie is very good in bed. He'll have a great time. And she takes her time over it.' 

Emma wondered idly if Jake might think her own performance last night inadequate, after sampling that of Julie's expert action. She shifted her gaze to the corner of the lounge where Martin had his arm round Enid's narrow waist, kissing her nipples fervently, whilst she stroked the matt of hair on his chest.

Laurie was trouserless at the side of the fire place kissing Susan's face and neck with small pouts, whilst both pairs of hands caressed the cheeks of the other's bottom. Delia was kneeling between George's thighs, his hand inside her dress stroking her breasts whilst hers were busy exploring his genitals.

Emma's eyes wandered back to Gertie, Robert's trousers were now round his ankles, exposing his stiffening penis which Gertie was lightly toying with. Remembering the masked men, she thought, 'So, he's the one with the large shaven genitals.' Her enquiring gaze returned to Bill.

He suddenly threw his head back and laughed. 'Gertie's not my wife, Emma. I brought her along to introduce her to one of the guests who wasn't able to get here.'

'Ah! I thought ... well! You were introduced together, so I, naturally, assumed ...'

'Good heavens! I thought you had recognised me and knew I was a bachelor gay. That is a light-hearted gay, not homosexual gay!'

Emma certainly felt relieved and contented in Bill's company but was unconvinced about his motives. 'Couldn't you explore character, mind and body with Julie - or Susan, or any of the others you know.'

'Not really! They are driven by the physical sex urge. It governs their lives when they are here. They all have demanding jobs and this is their way of shutting out their worries for a few days. I'm not saying I don't share a healthy sex drive, but it doesn't overwhelm me. And you seem to have a similar control on yours.'

Emma wasn't sure. She didn't want to cheapen herself in his or anyone else's eyes. Not that any one of these people would think anyone cheap for displaying and enjoying their sexuality. Bill was very persuasive but she didn't want him to think her too anxious to jump into his bed. He might read the wrong message - or right one, depending on your point of view! Still, it might be an enjoyable experience for them both. Bill was an interesting and amusing man. She liked him a lot. Carefully showing her doubt, Emma looked at him earnestly.

Why did she care, she wondered? Everyone is here for the sex. Emma looked round the room. 'Well, we seem the odd ones out. But not in public, I don't think. I'm not ready for that yet. Let's go upstairs, then. Let's give it a whirl.'

Bill stood, and helped her out of the settee. He smiled. 'Your place or mine?'

'Mine, I think. Just in case Gertie changes her mind. We won't be interrupted in mine.'

'Don't worry,' he assured her. 'Group sex worship is about to begin down here. Jake will take over my place as host and Gertie as hostess. Each of the men will fuck Gertie until they ejaculate over her belly. At the same time, each wife will watch whilst being fucked by Jake. So they'll be some time. Then they'll choose a partner to sleep with.'

'Come on, then. I'm not ready for gang bangs yet!' 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 09



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host had told of a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Director of how the 'wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team.

Chapter Nine: The Government Minister's tale: The Husband's Revenge

Following the tale of the Wife of Bath, Emma and Bill had left the other guests to their own devices, whilst they went up to Emma's bedroom.

'Don't worry,' he assured her. 'Group sex worship is about to begin in the lounge. Jake will take over my place as host and Gertie as hostess. Each of the men will fuck Gertie until they shoot over her face and breasts, watched by their wives, whilst they themselves are being fucked by Jake. So they'll be some time. Then they'll choose a partner to sleep with.'

'I've already chosen you,' Emma smiled.

Inside her bedroom, Emma switched on the bedside lamp. It illuminated the room with a warm glow. She turned to Bill and stood waiting for what might happen next. He smiled, came to her, took her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers in a friendly lingering kiss, his tongue pushing gently between her lips, running over them slowly and provocatively. She felt stiff and reserved at first, but his persistent tongue and roving hands started to unloosen her defence.

She began responding to his caresses, opening her mouth to take his exploring tongue which answered in a playful, unhurried way. His hands stroked her face with a tenderness which was both genuine and loving. Pressing her face more eagerly to his, Emma felt him open her gown, push the narrow straps off her shoulders so that it fell to her elbows, revealing her naked breasts.

Bill's hand groped for her stiffened nipples, pausing with admiration when it found them, jutting proudly on the peak of her breasts. 

'Superb! Just like a pair of perfect rosebuds.' He looked down at the prominent features. 'You must let me photograph those buds. They are absolutely terrific!'

Emma laughed at his enthusiasm. She kissed him gratefully. No one had offered to photograph her nipples before, though they were admired by all who saw them. She was melting into the mood. Yes, she thought, I shall enjoy making love with this interesting man.

'Just leave off glorifying my nipples, Bill and try taking my gown off. Tthen you can admire the rest of me.'

He smiled at her happily. Her underwear was quickly stripped away, leaving nothing to obstruct him as he ran his hands softly down her whole body and over her thighs. Wrapping themselves round the pronounced nipples, the areola speckled with goose pimples, his lips suckled them with eagerness and delight. She felt the flutters inside her belly as her juices began flooding her vagina.

His hands roamed her smooth skin, eventually stroking lightly upwards the inside of her thighs to find her warm slippery groin. Sinking onto his knees, his thumbs carefully spread the sex lips to reveal her fleshy opening, now oozing with her honey. He nipped the little bud at the apex of the lips between his thumbs. Emma gave a pleasurable shudder.

'You were my nun,' he suddenly announced. 'Your body scent is distinctive. So attractive. I'd recognise it in a pig stye!'

Bill leaned forward to plant a kiss on the oozing lips, allowing the heady perfume of her body to filter into his nostrils, drinking in her fragrance, boosting his desire for her.

Closing her eyes with joy, Emma put her hands on his head pressing it into her groin with a light moan.

'Oh, Bill, darling. You are wonderfully gentle. Can you drag yourself away from down there, so that I can join in the fun. I want to see what I already had sunk inside me this afternoon.'

He stood and smiled at her. She sat on the side of the bed to remove his jacket and shirt with unhurried hands. 'We have all night. Why rush the pleasure,' she thought.

To her surprise, Emma found that his body was covered with fair hair. She had never seen such a hairy man! It was absolutely fascinating! His figure was taught and tanned with surprisingly large brown nipples jutting out from the silky growth. She nibbled them lightly between her lips before snaking her tongue down his torso to the navel.

She slid onto to her knees. Her fingers unfastened the waist band of his trousers to unzip his fly. Kneeling now in front of him, she slid his trousers down to the floor, placing a kiss on the hard bulge in his Y fronts. Stepping out of his trousers, Bill planted his legs apart to tease Emma with the prominent swollen bulge, only his Y fronts and socks remaining.

With concentrated attention, Emma hooked her thumbs into the waist band, carefully easing them over the top of his erection. And there it was in all it's glory!

She paused with his Y fronts across the tops of his thighs, to absorb the sight of his throbbing hard penis. Her mouth went dry. Emma's eyes were glued with rapt attention to the solid shaft of flesh protruding from the mass of fair hair.

'You're right, Bill. That is the wonderful penis I enjoyed as a nun! How marvellous! Fancy it being yours!'

Licking her parched lips, she lowered the Y fronts further, remembering being taken aback by his huge testicles, diverting her attention from the thick penis. She pushed the pants to his ankles, helping him to step out of them, then took the swaying penis in one hand and his mighty balls in the other, to studied its contours and run her fingers down the tracery of veins.

Pulling back the foreskin the threatening, shining mauve head was uncovered, already showing evidence of his arousal. It looked angry, as though frustrated in its search for a mate. Emma inhaled the musty tang of his maleness and the faint scent of his perspiration. At such times, Emma knew she was a cockaholic at heart. She was drunk with the desire for thick cock. But any cock? She wondered. All pricks are beautiful.

With a sudden bow of her head, Emma took the shaft and sank it fully into her mouth. She got a great deal of enjoyment from sucking prick. It gave her a sense of control over the dominating male part and most men adored giving in to her coaxing tongue. Bill's penis wasn't excessively long - perhaps a touch under the regulation six inches - but was thicker than average. It was not as thick as Jake's, however, so she was able to take him entirely into her mouth with relish.

At her mother's suggestion, Emma had practised the art of deep throat with various vegetables, fruit, and dildos before pushing them deep into her aching vagina. Now, she was able to encompass the entire length of most men's penises without discomfort.

Jake was an exception, and she thought Robert's might be as well, from what she'd seen of it. She tasted the salty flavour and delighted in her growing power over this omnipotent piece of human flesh. Her fingers ran through the hair on his chest and belly as she gobbled vigorously.

Enslaved by this exquisite treatment, Bill's eyes closed in rapture. He placed his hands on Emma's head as his buttocks flexed in rhythm to her sucking. The excitement within him grew, his loins thrusting in and out of her warm wet mouth until Emma felt them begin to tremble.

She lifted her mouth from the shaft, grasped it in her fists, squeezing it hard to prevent him coming too soon. As Bill's excitement died down, Emma spent a few more moments closely studying his penis. This magnificent tyrant of stiff flesh which made slaves of women, admiring the sheer sensual power of the mighty organ, glorying in its solid pride. Her brain became alive with images of huge erupting pricks, deluging her in their abundance of warm sperm.

Bill lifted her from her knees and lay her on the bed. He opened her thighs, caressed her wet furry vulva with his fingers, parting the swollen lips to reveal the puckered, pink entrance to her mysterious passage. Dipping his head between the thighs, Bill thrust his tongue as far as he could into the warm stickiness, running it over the lips and across the clitoris.

Now in a frenzy of lust, Emma was responding with groans and twitches of her loins to his tongue, washing around the whole vulva. It slithered in and out of her orifice, flicking at her clitoris. His hands were busy caressing her breasts, her waist, the cheeks of her bottom as she wallowed in her delightful lewdness. 

'Bill, oh, Bill! You're marvellous,' she whispered through her gasps of excitement. 'You make me feel so desirable and wanton. Ahhhhrgh! Oohhhh!' she sighed. 'You'll have me coming in a minute! I want to lick your prick and balls. Please, Bill! Get over me!'

And Bill moved his legs until they straddled Emma's head, his huge hairy testicles suspended over her face. Sheer debauchery overcame her as she saw these mighty, hairy balls. She tried to get them into her mouth, but couldn't. She could only lick and nibble them, gently squeezing the plum-like objects.

Her other hand fondled the thick quivering shaft. Almost without warning, her loins unexpectedly flexed and jerked as she felt a rapid build up of tension in her clitoris. It was unstoppable. It burst over her, swamping Emma with emotional release, sweeping her along its crest. It surged through her body in huge waves of passion. With the rippling release came a strangled screech.

'Aarrrgh! I'm there! I've come already!' Bill already knew that!

'Wonderful darling, wonderful!' she cooed as a flood of emotion wept over her for the man who had given her this supreme fulfilment and joy. It was not just the usual flow of emotional gratitude she felt for a lover who had helped her to an exquisite orgasm, but an overwhelming, choking compassion for Bill. She wanted to crawl inside his warmth for protection.

Bill smiled to himself with relief. He knew that the first orgasm was often the most stubborn, particularly after holding it back, but thereafter it was plain sailing. He gave Emma's sticky vulva a gentle kiss before turning himself round so that he could lay on top of her, face to face. His mouth closed over hers in a long affectionate kiss. He felt a suffocating, overpowering affection for this lady.

He wanted her to be sexually satisfied and emotionally happy. Dammit! He wanted her to love him more than anyone else! Taking her face between his hands he looked searchingly into her eyes, saw the glitter of happiness in them as she returned his gaze. He kissed her with tender love and emotion. For the first time in his life, he felt unable to control his feelings. He was becoming emotionally unstable.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Over breakfast, Emma and Bill had to take a few jocular comments from the other guests about how they were hurt at having been ignored the previous evening, and denied Emma's body and Bill's charms. But all had enjoyed a night of passion with a different partner, exploring new hills and valleys of the flesh. It was an invigorating experience for them all.

Julie was still smiling inwardly with satisfaction at the wonderful night spent in the arms of Jake. In two or more hours of pure uninhibited sex, they kissed, licked and fucked, each to the delight of the other, before falling asleep exhausted, with Jake's cock still embedded inside her vagina.

At breakfast, Julie, feeling more lively than she had any right, looked at Bill and Emma gazing at each other, sensing a touch of romance in the air, which added an extra dimension to their special week-end activity. It would be interesting to see how long Bill would be content with the one female. He was very much a rover at these events.

When the time came for morning coffee, after tables had been cleared, dishes washed and coffee served, and all had settled with their selected partner for the morning, it was Laurie's turn to tell his story.

Laurie was a Member of Parliament and a minister of state in the Ministry of Labour, with particular responsibilities for employment. Having reached the age of forty, he was well built, with thinning hair brushed straight back from the forehead. In fact, he was what everyone would expect a government minister to look like. Solid, serious and thoughtful.

How looks can deceive! He was anything but! Laurie had a strong appetite for sex and flirted with any woman who allowed him to - and some who didn't as well! Although slightly podgy and with a plump belly, he had good sturdy legs. His pride and joy was his penis which had a pronounced bend in the middle - shaped like a banana. This pronounced bend gave him the ability during intercourse of reaching places other cocks wouldn't reach, often stimulating his partner to shattering orgasms.

Laurie was proud of his ability and still had frequent, fulfilling sex with his wife Enid after ten years of marriage. They had first met at an official function in the City and took to each other straight away, and found a common appetite for sex. Laurie was but a junior minister in those days. A busy political life on his part, and business life on hers, kept them apart for many days at a time, and, although he fancied his twenty-eight year-old secretary - a small dainty woman of perfect shape not unlike his wife - he preferred to keep business and pleasure apart.

This morning, Laurie wore a Vyella check shirt and a woollen tie, diamond pattered socks and brown brogue shoes. The very picture of staid country gentleman, which he was not. His father had, in fact, been a clerical worker, and his mother a junior teacher. Before taking up a political carreer, he too, was an office worker.

After the usual preliminaries, there was a expectant pause, the guests waiting for him to start. Laurie looked thoughtful.

'I'm not sure that I should tell you this tale,' he explained. 'It's sexy alright, but has a violent twist to it. But, I suppose some sex is violent, isn't it?'

'Unfortunately, yes!' Robert agreed. 'But don't let that stop you. We're quite content to hear a more serious story.'

Laurie smiled. 'Alright. It's a story about a woman called Brenda.'

This was Laurie's tale.

Some years ago now, she was my secretary for a short time. She was a plain woman, heavily built with wide hefty hips and untidy hair. I suppose had she tried, she could have looked more attractive.

She dressed 'sensibly' as they say, which in her case meant a tweed skirt and jumper. She was always in a hurry. She moved with her body leaning slightly forward in an aggressive way. She strode out, files tucked under her arm. She never paused to relax, chat or smile. In fact she always wore a worried look.

Brenda was the sort of person who could not look you straight in the eye. I had chosen her from the amongst the applicants for the job partly because she was not too attractive. A young, pretty secretary could be distracting, particularly in an office populated by randy young men - though all bar one of them married! And my previous secretary, a good-looking lady, had managed to get a crush on me, which had caused some problems, but that's another story.

My choice for her replacement wasn't a very popular one with the rest of the staff and I took some stick from my colleagues. However, she was a gem of a worker, asking no favours and getting on with the job. Perhaps because she had not expected to be offered the job, Brenda was desperate to please. Her work was always first-class.

She never left the office for home until all her work was complete and letters put into the post box. Nothing was left over for the next morning, except perhaps a bit of filing. It was sad to see her total lack of self esteem and I would frequently praise her work to try to give her a bit of confidence. I suggested she relax a bit. But all she would do was frown and look down into her lap.

She had only been with us for six or seven weeks when, one morning, she didn't turn up for work. At about half past ten, her husband called me on the phone to ask if she was there. He was clearly embarrassed and I told him she hadn't come in to work, but was curious to know why he seemed not to know that she hadn't.

'Did she leave the house to come to work?' I asked.

'Well, no...! As a matter of fact, er, she wasn't home last night, and I er... wondered...'

I didn't know what to think. Perhaps they'd had a family row but that was no way my problem. 'Are you saying that Brenda's missing from home?' I asked him. 'Perhaps you should go to the police.'

There was a pause. 'No, er... that won't be necessary,' he said, 'I think I er... know er... where she might be.' And, with an apology, he rung off.

The following day Brenda still didn't appear at the office. There were no messages. Fortunately, one of my colleagues was away for a few days and his secretary was able to take on the work I had. It was after lunch that the receptionist phoned through to tell me that Brenda's husband was downstairs asking to see me. 

Down in the reception office, I met him. He was a big, hefty, tough looking character. He was a builder, unshaven, and in his working clothes. At least, I took them to be his working clothes. He looked pale and nervous, twisting his cap in his hands.

I held out my hand. He wiped his down his trousers before taking mine. Shaking his hand I introduced myself to him. 'Has Brenda turned up?' I asked.

'Aye,' he said after a pause, 'but I'd er... like a word in er... private, if you don't mind.'

I told the receptionist that I would be in the interview room but didn't want to be disturbed and asked him to follow me. 'If you don't mind,' he said, 'can we talk in the pub next door?' I looked a bit surprised I suppose, because he went on, 'I'd not feel comfortable in your posh office. In a bar I feel more at home. I'll be able to talk better.'

I turned to the receptionist. 'That's where I'll be. Perhaps you'll take any messages for me. Thanks!'

When we settled into the smoking room of the pub - they still had them in those days - I suggested 'A pint of bitter, perhaps, or a whisky?' He smiled and accepted both! I ordered two pints and a scotch and waited at the bar until they were drawn. I carried the foaming thirst-quenching beer to the quiet table in the far corner, went back for the whisky and then settled into a chair facing him and smiled encouragingly.

'Well, Mr Broadacre. What's all this about?' I asked, offering him a cigarette, which he refused. 'I don't,' he said.

This was the story he told me, without the many hesitations and verbal stumblings. He wasn't a natural easy talker and it must have taken a lot of courage on his part to open up to me in this honest way. Anyway, this is what he told me.

I've known Brenda ever since we was teenagers. She came to live in the house opposite in our road when she was about eighteen and she was a lot brighter 'n me, but I allus admired her. I was a year older 'n her and I was labouring in t' building trade. I suppose yer might say I was in love wi' her even in them days.

But she wouldn't have owt to do wi' me. I'm not sure why, but there it is. It used to upset me a lot, I can tell you, but there was no help for it. She's not pretty but she's a lotta character an' I was a quiet, self-conscious sort o' lad and a bit of a loner in them days. I'd got no brothers nor sisters. Brenda knew I fancied her from the start.

She'd tease me, then deliberately ignore me. She preferred the gang of lads in t' next road 'cause they were more boisterous and treated her as one of them. My mother used to call her all sorts of names - a slag, a gypsy urchin, a trollop - and told me to have nowt to do wi' her. Well, I'd've given all I had to be wi' her. It were her who'd 'ave nowt to do wi' me.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 09



(He took a draught of beer, I remember. 'I hope yer don't mind me tellin' yer what I'm goin' t' say, but it all helps to explain what's happened.' I nodded encouragement and lit another cigarette.)

She told me much later that the main reason she joined in wi' the gang was to get screwed. (He saw my surprised reaction.) Aye. Well, it's true. But none of the lads fancied her like I did. Not a one. She was just another one of the lads to her. And she was bigger 'n most o' the lads, so nobody made up to her, like.

She was so frustrated, she said, that her secret little bud, as she called it, throbbed all the time and her body begged for attention. She cried wi' frustration many a night. I only wish I'd known, but there it is, she'd have nowt to do wi' me. Anyway, she has big fingers and they had to do the job o' pacifying her. Sometimes twice or even three times in a day.

She could never get any lad interested enough in screwing her. She didn't want to make the advances herself 'cause she'd have been treated as a slut, and 'ave been rejected. A slut, I suppose, if we're honest, is what being too keen on sex really made her. Even we rough 'n' ready lads expected our sisters - girlfriends - to behave wi' respect for themselves.

It's a bit different today, i'n't it? So, for a long time she had to make do wi' her fingers and other things. She could even get herself off by riding a bicycle - just rubbing against the saddle. Anyway, she were doin' well at college an' all that, until, one day, a new lad - Dennis - turned up in the gang, an' it were him as got into her knickers first, but quite a bit later on.

It were in the lad's garden shed in t' back garden, one afternoon afore his mother got 'ome. She'd tell me this tale often as a kind o' turn on. She knew that her honest descriptions of her having sex got me going and she liked to taunt me wi' these tales of her escapades. He was a big lad, she said. Big where it mattered. And that day she reckons she discovered paradise.

Once she'd had the feel of it inside her, she just couldn't get enough. The more she got the more she wanted. He didn't love her, this lad. He didn't care for her at all, really, but just used her for his own sexual satisfaction. Which was fair enough, I suppose, since that's all she was using him for.

Anyway, the garden of the house where this lad lived backed on to ours. From the little back bedroom where I used to sleep, I saw them one Saturday afternoon, sneaking into the shed. Being a bit jealous and wondering what they got up to in there, I crept down to the privet hedge at the bottom of our garden where I could see through the window of their shed.

It was a bit grubby, like, and I couldn't see all that well, but well enough to watch him banging in and out of her as she bent over, holding on to a shelf, and yelling at him to go harder. Well, his chopper was pretty fair, but nowt really to write home about, I thought.

She never knew that I watched 'em at it. Somehow, I didn't want to admit to Brenda that I was a peeping Tom, so I've never let on. Still haven't. So she doesn't know that I'd seen her having it off in that garden shed. When nobody was about, I cleaned the outside of the window so's I could see inside a bit better.

The gang had taken to using the lad's garden shed as their gang hut. The lad's father was no gardener so they all set to and cleared it out to make it comfortable. They had paraffin lamps to light it in the winter which they hung up on nails from the roof supports. Then, one day, I saw her sneaking down to the shed wi' the lad and his pal. Two of 'em.

I'd go straight down the garden and hide in the hedge. I'd found the best place to watch by this time, and saw them both shaft her, one after the other. Whilst one was at it, she'd have the other lad's chopper in her mouth. Well, it seems that this other lad couldn't keep his trap shut and blurted t' story out to t' other lads in t' gang about Brenda's willingness

This was when they were playing football in t' rec an' Brenda made a bit of a muck up of a pass and t' other lad said all she were good for was being stuffed. This Dennis were mad wi' him for splitting on her, but it were too late. The others now saw her in a different light and made her show 'em her tits, which were a fair size, I can tell you, and open her legs for 'em to look at her hairy slit.

She said that first time they'd taken her behind the lavatories in the rec. and made her show 'em her body, but she was willing enough. The excitement of having six or seven pairs of eyes gaping at her bare tits an' her fanny was enough to make her come she said. One of the lads took out his chopper, all stiff, and started to toss it off in front of her. She couldn't take he eyes off him.

Then another dropped his trousers and started to jerk off in front of her face. Soon they were all at it. Then one of the lads groaned and spurted his cum all over her face. It wasn't long, she said, before they'd all splattered their load into her mouth and over her cheeks and chin. That was sheer ecstasy for Brenda; to be dripping with cum.

The others decided they all wanted a share o' t' action. So the next Saturday morning I saw the whole gang arrive at the hut, and heard something of a commotion, so I crept to my hiding place and there they all were, egging on one of the lads who was screwing Brenda like mad, laying on the old wooden table.

The others were playing with their stiff willies, waiting their turn. She had a few in her mouth to keep them ready. They all 'ad her, one after t' other. An' some went for a second helping. She loved every minute of it she told me, an' were only sorry when it were all o'er. But on the second time I watched them at it, the lad's father came home from t' pub, a bit worse for wear, an' wondered what on earth were goin' on in the shed. I wanted to warn them, but couldn't, of course.

Well, he opened t' door to t' hut and caught 'em at it. He were speechless! I saw it all! The gang all pushed past him an' scarpered. The lad who'd been caught actually screwing her stumbled as he tried to pull his pants up on the run. It were bloody funny.

(He laughed at the memory and took another pull of his ale.)

Any road, the lad Dennis had had his turn and had fastened his flies up but he just stood there looking sheepish. His Dad sent 'im up to t' house. 'I'll deal wi' you later,' he told 'him.

Well, Brenda was sat up on th' edge of t' table, legs still apart, her fanny dripping with the lad's sperm. She still had her blouse open wi' her big tits hanging loose and her skirt and knickers on t' floor. Her face were crimson with embarrassment.

T' lad's father turned to her. 'Na then, young lass, what the 'ell do ye think you're up to? Yer all only kids an' behaving like rabbits, t' lot o' you. You're not even twenty-one yet! Does yer mother know about this carryin' on?'

He sounded angry, but all the while, the fellow's eyes were drawn to the sight of her brown nipples, then to the mass of hair between her legs. 'Lay back, lass,' he told her 'an' let's see what it is they find so tempting.'

Brenda did as she was told, presenting her open fanny to his stare. As he gazed with wide-open eyes, I watched him lick his dry lips. 'Well ... er .... we won't say nowt to yer mum but I'm goin' to 'ave t' teach you a lesson you'll remember.'

And he dropped his trousers and took out a really enormous chopper. At least that 'ow it looked to me. A bit short p'raps, but bloody thick wi' it. An' he stepped in between her legs and pushed it straight up her. I heard her gasp.

She squirmed and bucked as he banged away at her like a bloody piston, huffin' and puffin' like an engine. When he finished, he drew it out, stuffed it straight back into his trousers, pulled 'em up, and buttoned his flies.

'Let that be a lesson to you, young lass. Now, get off home!'

He watched her as she jumped down from the table, fastening her blouse, pulling up her knickers and skirt. And she left. She told me later that he was t' best of the lot, was t' father.

Now, I suppose you'll wonder what on earth I saw in a lass who some would say was no better than a prostitute. But to me, you see, she weren't a slag at all. As I figured it out, she were no different from those chaps who can't stop gambling', or can't stop smoking', or drinking', nor the lasses who can't stop eating' chocolates.

It's just an obsession wi' 'em. Is that the right word? Anyway, that's all it were. I couldn't stop lovin' her because, y' see, she was my obsession.

The only difference was that I couldn't satisfy mine like some others could. It's as simple as that really. When I watched her bein' banged by all them lads, I felt jealous, yes, but I also felt glad for her 'cause it's what made her happy. Same as you havin' a fag after you've been without for a few hours. Just sheer enjoyment.

She's told me often enough that she only feels alive when she's full of cock. The rest of the time she's nobody nor anything. She only really lives when she has a chopper up her inside. It might sound daft, but that how she puts it.

Anyway, the inevitable happened. She got herself pregnant. She'd no idea who'd fathered it. It could ha' been any one of 'em, couldn't it? So, because she couldn't point a finger to its father, nobody wanted to know.

Her mother was bloody annoyed, as you can imagine. She'd worked her fingers to t' bone to save for the lass's education only to be repaid by Brenda wi' a bun in t' oven. An' nobody to marry the lass. When I heard this tale from my own mother, I decided to ask her to marry me. I promised to pretend I was the father of the bairn and to bring it up as my own.

Brenda was bowled over! So were her mother! But they couldn't look the gift 'horse in the mouth, could they? In them days, having a bairn out of wedlock was still frowned on. Even living' in sin was against the morals of t' people. So I married her.

(We paused whilst I refilled our ale glasses, and put him a large scotch on the side. I wasn't sure why he was telling me all this, but it was such an absorbing tale, I wanted to know the end of it. He took a large gulp of the beer, then knocked back the whisky.)

That's o'er twenty years since. An' we've been as happy as any other couple, I expect, which probably isn't saying much. We all have our ups an' downs, but, by an' large, we've been happy together.

After the bairn were born we both worked hard and t' lad's done well enough an' is studying to be a vet. He's at Edinburgh. Keeping' him's a bit hard, but he got a good scholarship, so we can manage if Brenda keeps working'. But that's the bother of it.

After we'd been married a few years the old cravings came back to her. She was open enough to me about it an' we both did what we could to keep her happy. But, one day, she called into one of our old haunts after work, where she met a couple of the old gang, had a few gins wi' 'em and that were it. She went off the rails.

She came home late bedraggled and exhausted. But radiantly happy. She told me what had happened, which got me worked up and I would fuck her mangled fanny, still wet wi' others stuff. I put it on one side as just one o' them things.

But it happened again a few months later. So, remembering the days when I used to watch her through that grimy garden-shed window, I decided to set up some proper arrangements, without her knowledge. I could always tell when she were ready for a good banging, 'cause she'd start to get moody.

I won't bother explaining the details of how I managed it, but every couple o' months or so, I'd secretly watch her getting stuffed by three mates o' mine what I could trust. But I misjudged her moods and about two months ago she went off the rails again. Only this time, she didn't come home all night. An' I got worried.

But she turned early up the next morning in a rough state with a black eye, bruises on her body and a big hang over. She couldn't really remember what happened except that she got in with this crowd o' rough necks. One of 'em were in the old gang, so he knew her.

But he weren't the gang leader, she said. T' gang leader were a short chap, wi' a mop o' ginger hair, and as strong as an 'horse, she said. She went with 'em into an old barn behind the pub and gave her a real banging. This chap wi' ginger hair was the one who roughed her up and smacked her about the face and taunted her with beer bottles asking how she'd like one that size up her with another stuck up her arse.

He bashed her about the 'head an' had the others hold her down over an old saw horse. She said some of the others weren't keen on joining in, but they were too scared of 'im to refuse. He made one of 'em stuff 'er up the backside whilst he stuffed her from the front.

Anyway, when they'd 'ad enough, they tied her up and left her in the barn. The ginger chap came back early the next morning an' 'ad another go at her before letting her go, warning her to keep her mouth shut. I begged her to tell me where this pub was, but she wouldn't. But she promised not to go near it again.

(He paused and shook his head and took a long pull of his beer. I lit another cigarette but said nothing. He went on.)

Well, she did! Two nights ago! Like an obsession, you see, she couldn't keep away, even though she got beat up. She didn't want to. But she couldn't stop 'herself. This time, only two of the others chaps joined in. The old member of the gang of her younger days cried off. He didn't want to get involved.

After she'd 'ad a few gins, she went with 'em into this 'ere barn. They ripped her clothes off her - aye, ripped - an' after all three had fooled around wi' her, biting her nipples hard and banging her, rough like, they beat her up, spit on her, even pissed over her. One of 'em even made her take his chopper in her mouth and pissed in it 'til she nearly choked.

They called her names and told her what a filthy whore of a bitch she were. Mucky Brenda, they called her. They behaved like hysterical animals an' she began to sober up an' get really scared. It wasn't a game any more. They threatened to pour petrol over her and set fire to her but she didn't think they meant it. She really thought they meant to do her in altogether, though.

As it were, two of 'em banged her again before they kicked her in the stomach and beat her unconscious and, finally, the ginger chap with a great leer stuffed an old beer bottle up her. Only this bottle were a broken one. She didn't know that at the time until when she came round and found it sticking out on her, wi' blood trickling from the bottle-neck.

She knew that if he came back sober t' next morning he'd realise he'd gone too far and be forced to kill her. She was in a lot o' pain and bleedin' bad, but she managed to get herself out of the rope - she said they were too drunk to tie it properly - and crawled out of the barn.

To say she was distressed would be an understatement. Lucky for her, as she staggered down the street in the early hours of t' morning, a cruising police car passed. They saw her an' thinking she were drunk, stopped. When they saw what a state she were in, they took her straight to t' hospital. An' that's where she is now.

(He looked at me and shrugged. I just didn't know what to say. To tell the truth, I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I asked him how he found out about all this. He told me.)

When they came to fetch me at about five in t' morning, I thought it were her coming home. But when I opened the door an' saw the blue helmets, my heart stopped. I thought Oh! Bloody 'ell! What's 'happened?

They told me that Brenda'd had a bit of an accident and 'ad been taken to t' infirmary. They told me to put some clothes on an' took me to see her. When I saw her, her face was in a right mess. All bruised and swollen black and blue. Her black eyes so puffed up she could hardly see out of 'em. Several teeth were broken and her lips were gashed an' swelled up. Her jaw, cheek bone, collar bone and some ribs - all broken.

She told me that there were deep teeth marks on her tits. One nipple was half-bitten off. The other injuries were a result of the broken bottle. They'd patched her up wi' stitches until the proper surgeon came on duty. I just went wild inside! I were boiling!

Why couldn't they have just banged her an' enjoyed it? But I said nowt to her. I just kissed her an' told her that I loved her. 'Cause, you see, I do. Then they wanted me to go to t' police station to question me as though I'd done it. She'd already told them it weren't me, but they wanted to be sure.

You see, she wouldn't tell 'em where she'd been or who she'd been wi'. She pretended not to remember. All she knew was that it weren't me. They asked me if I knew who'd done it and where she'd been, but I said I didn't know a thing - which were true. But when I went to see her again last night, she finally told me the name of t' pub, but pleaded wi' me not to do anything nor tell t' police. They'd get to her and do her in, she said, if she split on 'em.

She promised she'd never go back again. T' Oddfellows. Bottom o' London road. That's where it were. But you see, knowing it were her obsession, I couldn't be sure she wouldn't go back when she were better. I couldn't risk it. They'd kill her if ever she went back there.

Well, last night I dropped into this pub myself' after work. It were about half past six an' not many drinkers in. I noticed this loud-mouthed, ginger-haired chap in a corner drinking and laughing wi' two others. They looked right rough types.

I stood at the bar an' ordered a pint. I got into casual conversation wi' them. As you do. They told me they were laughing about this ugly, old, randy bitch who came in looking for spare chopper. 'Bloody 'ell,' the ginger one said, 'you'd need a skinful afore you'd stick yer chopper up that smelly old bitch.'

They all laughed. 'Still, they're all t' same in t' dark they say! So, what the 'ell! We took her into the barn at t' back an' give her what she wanted, didn't we lads?'

More laughter! 'Will she be in tonight, do y' reckon,' I asked.

'Doubt it,' the ginger one said with a guffaw.

It were that guffaw what did for 'im. I was boiling wi' rage inside. But pretended to be enjoying the joke. 'We give 'er enough last night to last her a week or two, didn't we lads?'

They howled with laughter. 'You're telling me!' one sputtered. But he couldn't stop bragging', this ginger-haired chap. 'Once they've 'ad a taste o' my chopper,' he said, 'they always come back for more, don't they lads. Again an' again! Then, when I've 'ad enough, t' others can 'ave a go. These two.'

He nodded at t' other two. 'And anyone else who 'happens to be around and fancies a bit o' rough.' It wasn't long afore the ginger chap wanted to go to the lavatory to relieve himself, so I followed 'im out, joking' about how I wished I 'ad his talents.

'I could do wi' a bit o' spare myself,' I joked.

The lavatory were across a cobbled yard. An old, dirty outside bog, with a single stone slab and gutter wi' a bunged-up outlet. Next to it was the barn.

When he'd finished peeing' and giving' it a shake, I said 'Go on then, let's see this monster o' thine then.' He couldn't resist boasting. He laughed and turned and faced me to show off his semi-stiff chopper.

I suppose talking about it 'ad got him a bit excited, like. So, I kicked 'im hard in the balls. There an' then. Hard as I could.

As he doubled up I' pain, I banged the insides of my wrists into his ears, grabbed him by the hair on either side of his head and jerked up my other knee to smash it into 'is face. There were a squelchin' crunchin' sound.

I think I broke his nose.

With luck I'd burst 'is ear-drums as well. Then, as he jerked backwards from that, I kicked him very hard in the balls again, and when he lolled forward, cracked him as hard as I could on the back of his neck wi' a rabbit punch. He didn't really know what 'ad hit 'im.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 09



They taught us how to do that in t' army. Unarmed combat, they called it.

He just dropped to t' floor like a stone. I rolled him over, held his face in a pool of stale piss a few times - the outlet had the usual blockage of butt ends and the like - then dragged him into the barn round t' back. In the light of a street lamp through a window I could see the dark patch in the straw.

It looked like t' blood o' t' wife, but I don't know. His nose was bleeding, that's all. So I kicked his head in, an' booted 'im 'hard in t' balls two or three times for good measure. As I walked through t' bar, t' other two were still laughin' and joking' in t' corner.

I don't think he'll be stuffing any more women for a long time.

At this point in the narrative, Laurie told the guests, he drank off his pint and I took his empty glass and went to the bar to refill it. I needed a little time to reflect on this amazing tale and why he had told it to me. I wondered if he'd killed the ginger-haired chap.

When I returned to the table I said I was glad he'd been able to tell me the story, but asked him why he'd told me. It was only necessary for him to have phoned to say Brenda had had an accident and was in hospital for a few days. His reply surprised me.

'My Brenda thinks a lot about you. She says you're a considerate, kind sort o' chap, an' somebody she could trust. She talks quite a bit about you. You're a bit of an idol, I suppose. So I thought I'd come to ask you what you think I ought to do about this business. I badly needed to talk to somebody about it. Get it out of my system I suppose. I mean this chap asked for all 'e got.'

Well, I told him that it might be a long messy business if he complained to the police and, if he thought he'd evened up the score, it might be best to forget it. Just a bar brawl. Not unusual in the pubs round that part of the town. I didn't think the police would really want to get involved in a private dispute.

However, he'd need to make sure that Brenda never went near that place again. When she was better, she could always have her job back with me.

He looked surprised. 'Nay,' he said, 'she'd never do that! She'd be far too embarrassed. She's said so. One of her main worries in all this is that she's let you down. She'll perhaps come in for 'er wages when your not 'ere, but she couldn't face you again. She's told me as much. I'm real sorry. An' so is she, 'cause, as I say, she thinks a lot about you and is right sad she's let you down.'

Well, that was the end of his story. After thanking me for the advice, he went. It was some weeks later that a friend I hadn't seen for a while joined me for a pint and a bite of lunch. He told me the story about how a man had been found unconscious in a barn at the back of the Oddfellows pub. 

It seems that whoever had beaten him up had made a thorough job of it, smashed his balls in, chopped off his penis from the base - with anvil secateurs apparently, which were found in the straw - and stuffed it in his mouth.

The fellow had nearly choked on the loss of blood from a broken nose, but it seems that two of his mates found him in time and he was rushed off to the Infirmary. The Infirmary! Perhaps in the ward next to Brenda!

Laurie paused. 'So that's my tale!'

The guests remained silent for a few moments.

'Serve the sod right!' Delia said with feeling. 'He won't be molesting any more women for a long time, I'll bet!'

There was a murmur of general approval.

'I think that calls for cocktails all round' was Robert's comment. 'Then we should all retire for a rest and change for lunch.'

The couples ambled into the bar, before dispersing gradually, hoping that the next tale would be less gruesome. A good laugh is what they all wanted.

'From what I have heard of Gertie's tale, a good laugh is what you should get this evening,' was Julie's prediction.

But first, there would be the after-lunch fantasies!



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 10



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host had told of a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team, the Politician about the husband's revenge.

Chapter Ten: Susan's Fantasy Becomes Reality

When lunch time came on the third day of the confinement of the five couples and their hosts, there had already been four erotic tales to entertain the guests. The snow had now stopped, but the deep drifts almost covered the whole front of the inn still, with no chance of escaping yet. At the rear, at least six feet of snow had turned the lush country landscape into a white wilderness.

But there was an adequate pile of logs and other fuel for the fires, the electricity was still available and the telephone lines in working order. So, although isolated, the inn was in communication with the authorities who promised to rescue them as soon as other, more urgent, priorities had been met.

After doing the domestic duties allocated to them, and listening over coffee to Laurie's tale of the revenging husband, the guests took the opportunity of an hour's rest before lunch, to prepare themselves for the afternoon's activities.

In their rooms, they found on their beds simple, rough-looking, Saxon-like costumes to wear for lunch. There were wigs for the men and dresses with low-cut bodices for the women. No underwear by special request. They assembled in the dining room to be greeted with glasses of mead. It was strong!

Anne had prepared a casserole in a large cauldron. It was placed in the centre of the long trestle table with chunks of rough bread. Pewter flagons of ale, together with mead in stone jugs, provided the liquid refreshment. Chairs had been replaced with wooden benches, a cheerful log fire burned in the open hearth, everything looking cosy and homely.

The assembled company was called to order. 'Martin is to be the Saxon Lord for the afternoon, and Delia his Lady,' Julie announced. 'Pay homage, serfs!' And the remaining guests bowed and scraped.

Martin was the Marketing Director for an international food company. At thirty-two he seemed average in every way. A quiet, fair haired man with good strong features, large blue eyes, straight nose and square chin. Average build but not yet running to fat.

Martin's wife, Delia was a famous TV presenter. At thirty-one, she was a tall, willowy blonde with features not unlike Marilyn Munroe with a generous sensuous mouth, pointed chin and excessive bust which tended to sag without support. She had the calm exterior of a duchess. She held her head high with a tendency to look down her nose with a slightly superior air. Her large bust was shown off to its best advantage in an exquisite dress. She was featured regularly in the society pages of the glossies.

Delia explained that the knowledge that there were men throughout the kingdom, with eyes glued to the TV screen, dying to fuck her, was something of a turn-on for her. 'In fact,' she had said in her sexy contralto voice, 'I hear that some men actually kneel in front of the screen and masturbate, spurting their semen all over my face!' She laughed.

Indeed, Delia added, there were plenty of men in the TV studios who would jump at the chance of feeling her up, if not actually fuck her.

Appointed Lord for the afternoon, Martin insisted on fondling the breasts of each lady, claiming that it was his right as Lord of the Manor. Delia joined in the spirit by insisting, with great dignity, that she must feel under each man's tunic to make sure they were not wearing anything underneath and, at the same time, to weigh his balls in the palm of her hand.

'The one with the heaviest balls can feel my royal pussy,' she told them. Since Bill had not yet arrived on the scene, Jake was declared the winner.

Delia lifted her long gown to her waist with an imperious gesture, parting her legs, inviting Jake to run his open palm back and forth between her thighs a few times, which he did with exaggerated enjoyment. Her labia were plump, and her thick juices trickled down her inner thighs. Jake had never know any woman lubricate quite as copiously and freely as Delia.

She was purring! 'Ooooh! That's lovely, serf. But enough!' she told him letting her skirt drop. 'You'll start me off if you're not careful. Not before lunch, darling, if you don't mind. There are some things you just don't do before lunch - but as much as you like afterwards.'

This brought some rude comments and laughter.

After a few draughts of the ale and mead, they sat themselves at the table to eat. The atmosphere became boisterous and very jolly, with everyone enjoying the food and liquor. Martin sat at one end of the long table, passing the platter of bread, the jugs of mead and flagons of ale. Delia at the other end, enjoyed arousing Jake on her right and Laurie on her left, by frequent fondles under their tunics.

When the meal was over, Julie called the guests to attention.

'Listen everyone! We have a little surprise for Susan today. So, you come with me, Susan. The rest of you can carry on drinking.'

Susan burst into laughter. 'Surprise for me? What on earth ...' but Julie took her by the arm to lead her into the ladies powder-room.

'Take off your belt. Unfasten the dress,' Julie told her.

Amid splutters of inebriate laughter, Susan did as she was told, removing her sandals, and unfastening the belt and buttons of the dress so that it draped loosely from her shoulders.

'What's the game about, Julie?'

'You'll find out in a minute.' Julie smiled. 'It's a surprise, but don't worry! You'll enjoy it!'

Susan panicked a bit. 'I hope it's not going to hurt, is it?'

'Good heavens, no! Nothing like that. You'll love it! Honest! You're in for a big thrill.'

'Now for the blind-fold,' Julie announced. More laughter accompanied an eye shield being placed over Susan's face.

'You're going to enjoy this, Susan. Come on!'

And Julie led an uncertain, chuckling Susan out of the powder room, her groping arms held out in front of her like antennae, wondering what sort of game this was.

Susan was led over the carpet where she was eventually stopped and turned round several times. Someone took hold of her arms, easing her down to sit on a flat surface. Then her blind-fold was removed.

All the curtains in the room had been closed. It was lit only by candles, lots of them, standing on the long dining table. Partly dazzled by the flames, Susan could make out some of the guests sitting smiling at the other side of the table, still in their Saxon outfits.

Turning to see who was holding her by the arms, the sight of a witch, complete with large wart-encrusted nose, straggly hair and wide-brimmed hat, took her by surprise. A black cloak hung loose over an apparently naked body.

Her breasts were long, shrivelled bags, hanging low, crowned with huge, black, leathery nipples. At her other side stood a second person dressed in a similar manner. A nervous giggle burst from Susan as the witches leered at her, holding her arms firmly behind her, pulling open the tunic. Susan's long pointed tits thrust forward in a creamy glow from the open tunic.

As the witches held her wrists, Susan realised that she was perched on a long, narrow side-table, with Julie standing behind her, at the head.

Then came an unexpected explosion, a shower of green sparks in a billow of smoke at the end of the room to her left. A shout of delight and a burst of applause from the table greeted two men who appeared from out of the smoke, dressed as demons, with balaclava-like helmets, sprouting short horns.

Under a black cloak, their chests had a dark-brown shaggy texture. They were naked from the waist down, each cradling in both hands a huge stiff cock, crimson in colour, protruding from their loins!

Susan was fascinated by these grotesque cocks, with their tracery of heavy blue veins, as the devils approached her with a sinister laugh. Kneeling each side of her waist, they grasped her ankles, yanking open her chubby legs fully to expose her vulnerable genitals to the assembled guests. Her ankles were quickly manacled to the front legs of the table.

At this, there was another explosion from the other end of the room, smoke billowing amidst a shower of red sparks. A tall figure, with a black cloak drawn across his body with his left arm, appeared out of the smoke. His head was covered by a full black mask.

Susan could just detect his eyes glinting through the slits. A threatening rumble of thunder was heard as he approached her. Susan's flesh turned to goose pimples. A sudden thrill of apprehension shuddered through her body as the figure slowly threw open his cloak.

There was a shower of green sparks and, held in his other hand, was an enormous stiff green phallus waving in front of her. A huge hairy sac of testicles swung beneath it, thrusting from the hairy torso. Although his chest looked almost bare, from the waist down to his feet he was covered with coarse hair, like a goat.

Susan couldn't take her eyes off the giant green phallus prodding of it's shaggy base, swaying from side to side in the flickering candlelight.

Susan stared at it, whimpering. But whether in fear or exhilaration was difficult to tell.

'No! No! Please don't touch me,' she moaned.

The figure, ignoring her plea, moved slowly between her open legs, looking down at the unprotected genitals with their pouting lips, the mound topped with ginger hair. Cupped fingers grasped them, caressing the already damp folds before placing the head of the enormous prick at the puckered entrance.

It nudged into the pink opening. Susan whined and struggled, her eyes glued to the monster, hips and buttocks writhing from side to side. But she was no match for the fastenings round her ankles, with the witches and demons holding her down firmly.

The two devils reached over her thighs, opening up her vagina to allow the huge phallus to slip slowly into the heat of her wet flesh. A shock went straight to her centre. The penis was as cold as ice! A huge orgasm suddenly slammed at Susan's body as she arched her groin. With a strangled cry, she flung her shoulders back onto the table, screwing her eyes tight in the anguish of the climax, her body embracing the hideous, cold monster.

With a smile of triumph, Julie opened her thighs, straddled Susan's head, lowering her wet vulva onto the pretty face.

Susan lapped Julie's warm lips eagerly as the Devil began to fuck her with long strokes. Slowly at first, but gradually quickening, whilst the two demons sucked on her swollen nipples. Susan now concentrated on the thrill she was beginning to feel inside. 

The huge prick completely filled her, stretching her soft fleshy lips to their fullest extent, the pink folds accommodating it's girth and length. She felt as thought she was being split apart down to the entrance to her bottom. Tremendous lunges threatened to burst through into her womb. It was exactly as she had imagined it in her fantasies. Fucked by the devil!

The awareness of being defenceless, her soft body being brutally violated by an ugly monster triggered off her second orgasm. It surged quickly to a peak, crashing over her senses as the massive penis continued to pound her mercilessly.

Susan became aware of other beings at her side, touching her, feeling her body, taking liberties with her bottom. They pinched her breasts, her bottom overhanging the edge of the altar they invaded her anus, they felt and squeezed the stretched the lips of her genitals as the penis lunged in and out of it.

Hands everywhere! Breasts squeezed by hands and suckled by wet mouths. Julie had stood away from Susan to allow a stiff prick, sticky with sperm, to be pushed into her face, rubbing urgently against her cheek. She took it into her mouth and sucked on it passionately.

Her hands, still held by the witches, were guided into hot, hairy groins, dripping with female honey. Her fingers paddled in the soft fleshy folds, probing the creases. Another orgasm swept through her as she almost lost her senses in a sea of sensuous lust.

There was a loud, hoarse shout. The penis in her mouth suddenly erupted filling it with salty, warm liquid, before withdrawing. Hands turned her head roughly to the other side where another stiff shaft was thrust harshly into her mouth. It fucked her lips frantically, accompanied by urgent grunts, until it too quickly exploded into her, washing her throat with spurts of hot sperm.

With her brain spinning with visions of spouting pricks, the tangy taste of bitter-sweet sperm filled her throat. Hot female genitals pushed themselves onto the fingers of both her hands. Sighs of pleasure, murmurs of ecstasy and squeals of delight assailed her ears.

Suddenly, the Devil bellowed 'Hallelujah!', withdrawing his shaft from between her almost numb genitals. She felt a succession of warm gushes cascade over her belly.

Opening her eyes as she swallowed the last of the sperm in her mouth, Susan saw her body dripping copiously with starchy liquid. One of the devils thrust his red penis into her ravished vagina, pumping into her with rapid strokes. Others were leaning over her, massaging the thick liquid into her belly and pubic hair.

The demon gave a victorious shout, withdrawing his red penis as it spurted jets of more liquid over her groin. The second demon fell on her, aiming his shaft between her wide, plundered thighs, driving deep into her swollen lips. Orgasmic spasms swept over her.

She screamed and screamed and screamed uncontrollably with each deep thrust of the demon until, with a loud 'Hallelujah!', he gave a final thrust, gushing jet after jet of sperm inside her. No sooner had he withdrawn than a fourth stiff penis entered her with a strong thrust.

Her brain began to spin. Her breathless screams continued with each savage thrust, getting hoarser, as wave after wave of ecstasy continued to sweep through her almost exhausted body. She was unaware of the ruthless, jerking loins between her bruised thighs, ejaculating its libation into her battered flesh.

Susan was totally fatigued, sobbing with delirium as the blindfold was replaced over her face. Arms reached beneath her shoulders, hands under her buttocks and legs, lifting her from the table, floating her away. She was completely overcome with a feeling of physical joy and mental ecstasy. Susan had never known such complete fulfilment and happiness.

When the blindfold was eventually removed, she opened her eyes to look up into the smiling face of Julie. Realising that she was now wrapped in a warm gown, resting in a comfortable settee before a roaring fire in the lounge, she was content to just hug herself and gaze into the flickering flames.

Julie handed her a glass of brandy and champagne. She took a sip, swilling it round her mouth with her tongue before swallowing it. It was a few minutes before she was able to speak. 

'Thanks, Julie. What an absolutely fabulous experience. How did you do it?'

'Do what, darling?' Julie asked with innocent, wide eyes. 'You've been dozing in front of the fire here. Had too much mead, I expect. How do you feel?'

Susan looked at her seriously. 'Hey! That was no dream! I've just had the most wonderful experience with the most fantastic orgasms ever. I didn't dream that! No dream was ever as real as they were!'

'Why? What happened?' Julie asked, eyes still wide open with mock innocence.

Susan looked at Julie keenly. After a moment she told her.

'I was ravished by the devil. Fucked brainless with his enormous green prick. Then his demons fucked me with bright red pricks. Others followed. Witches with horrible tits and various other vile fiends violated my body. My mouth was fucked and fucked again, my nipples chewed, my breasts pummelled, and I was made to feel up two of the witches' hot sloppy cunts!'

'Wow! Sounds great!' Julie said ingenuously.

'It was! So there's no use pretending you didn't know about it.'

'Just a dream!' Julie replied with a smile.

Susan looked at her steadily for a few seconds. Then opened her gown. 'Look!' And she pointed down to the sticky mess on her belly and the wet, matted, dark pubic hair. 'I didn't dream that! That,' she said seriously, 'is the devil's come!'

She opened her thighs. 'Look at those poor battered fanny lips,' she pointed to them. And sure enough, they were looking rather swollen and raw. 'I didn't dream that either!'

'Well, you did ask Robert and Jake to help you to sleep,' Julie said with a laugh. 'And they can be a bit rough, sometimes.' Then she suddenly burst out laughing. 'OK! Anyway, have you recovered enough to rejoin the others?'

As they went into the dining room, the guests were still in their Saxon outfits, sat on the benches which had been drawn up to the log fire. A burst of applause greeted Susan's entrance and a place made for her in front of the fire.

After many mock denials of involvement, the others admitted their part in the fantasy. Robert showed her the cucumber and green pouch made that very morning from a piece of fur fabric, holding two large stones, which were the devil's genitals. The bottom half of a bear costume completed the torso.

'Good God! Did you put that huge cucumber up me? But how did you come all over me!' Susan cried.

Anne held up plastic bottle. 'Just warm starch, made for the purpose.' she told Susan, laughing. 'It doesn't half gush when you squeeze it!'

Amid much laughter, Susan was shown the large, shaped red candles of the demons with wax dribbled over the heads.

'But you were actually fucked with the real thing,' Martin assured her. 'Robert here was so worked up that he finally dispensed with the cucumber and finished himself off with his own.'

The witches, Mary and Anne, showed their masks and false breasts made from latex rubber filled with a new expanding foam, with baby-bottle teats painted black for the nipples glued onto the ends.

'It was only because of the dramatic lighting that we got away with the rough amateurish props.' Julie told her. 'They were a bit make-shift.'

'And your willingness to believe it, of course.' Delia added. 'Robert's special indoor fireworks added a dramatic touch.'

'This is all very well,' Emma spoke up. 'But of all fantasies, the best one is being made love to by the man of your dreams.'

'Er,' Julie looked at her with interest. 'Go on!'

'The sexual act should be an act of worship. Mutual worship. Both partners should be carefully prepared in advance for the final fulfilment by equipping the mind and body for the final act of penetration of the citadel; the entry into the heavenly paradise. 

'The body must be tuned slowly and consciously to a high pitch of anticipation and joy. That is the ecstasy of adoration. Not frustration and anguish. Wham, bam, thump. Wow! thank you madam. It should be a journey of exploration, of discovery of the mystery of life. Time and time again. An awesome and beautiful experience every time.

'The woman's paradise must be prepared in order to receive her partner, her lord, her slave; to welcome him into her warm sanctuary. But this requires careful preparation. Both partners must be lulled into a state of relaxation and contentment.'

Enid interrupted. 'Soft caresses, constant sighs, hushed words of love and encouragement. Praise for the beauty of the body, admiration for the perfection of the breasts, the nobility of the penis.'

'Exactly! The slave, the master may smother the body of his mistress with tender kisses, all over her face and body, with lips and fingers, from the head to the breasts and nipples. Fingers fluttering gently over the sensitive areas of skin. Until attention eventually centres on the gates of paradise itself.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 10



'Fingers search through the soft fleece hiding the heavenly portals, until they encounter the soft folds of warm, defenceless flesh hidden there, wet with passion's honey; a signal that the gates are ready and willing to open wide, to admit the intruder, the slave, the master. Those gates may then be touched with the master's lips, a sign of worship and adoration, lapping the pink folds, which will now be distended with eagerness.

'The woman must keep control over her excitement, concentrating on the sensations trembling within her body, radiating ecstasy throughout her body, but not giving in to the desire for climatic release. She must focus her feelings on the wonderful, delectable sensation of her secret, sensitive vulva being explored and penetrated by a hot tongue. Her clitoris teased and her lips nibbled in gentle, loving bites.

'Warm hands stroking her body, her breasts, flicking over the nipples and caressing the belly. In this way, the exhilaration and delight is heightened for her complete enjoyment. Her partner searches the moist folds of inner flesh with his tongue, running it round the portals, scooping out the honey, tasting it's flavour, delighting in the knowledge that he is giving his goddess delicate sensations of supreme joy.

'He will be sensitive to her inner trembles and tremors as she rejoices at his touch, taking care to stop his teasing if she becomes too excited at this stage. She will be murmuring sighs of contentment, whispering her feelings of exhilaration and passion.

'During this preparation, the woman will have been fondling her partner's body, feeling the hardness of her partner's weapon of love. Testing its firmness between her fingers, exploring its contours, softly running her fluttering fingers over the length and teasing its bulbous head. Studying the smoothness of the foreskin and weighing the heavy bag of testicles in her palm, gently squeezing them and feeling their plums.

'Her admiration for his genitals will be muttered into his ear. She will tell him what a wonderful staff of hardness it is, how it throbs to be inside her, how much she wants to feel it penetrate her secret depths and fill her to bursting. In her state of near readiness, now is the time for her to turn more attention to her partner. To give in return. To kiss with soft lips the hard object of her impatience, now bursting with passion and desire.

'It should now be bursting with agitation, anxious to penetrate and worship her sanctuary, the supreme throne of pleasure and love. Her tongue will trickle up the underside of the taught flesh, licking over the exposed head, taking care not to over stimulate the almighty idol to discharge his offering too soon.'

The guests were listening open-mouthed, to Emma's eulogy, hypnotized by her voice.

'His response will be a pulsing and slight irregular jerking of the penis and loins. His muscles will tighten and beads of moisture form on the tip of the shaft, to be gently kissed away with the touch of a butterfly's wings. She may now engulf the hard penis in her warm mouth, caressing it with her tongue.

'At the moment of mutual readiness, the goddess will part her thighs, giving the master, her slave, a full view of her aching vulva with its lips spread open to receive her idol. Positioning himself between her open knees, the master, her slave, will present his rock-hard phallus, skin stretched tight over the bursting shaft, to the very portals of her warm paradise.

'Reaching down, taking his rod lightly in her fingers, she will position it and encourage it to enter her willing, eager sanctuary, dripping with the honey of desire.

'The moment of truth, of worship, the secret of life is about to be discovered. The massive weapon will nudge its way between those pink, ravishing lips. It is an awesome moment of beauty. Slowly, deliberately. Savouring every second, the inner folds of warm womanly flesh clutching impatiently every contour of the deity entering her citadel, her exquisite shrine.

'Whilst she will marvel at the feeling of being filled, stretched, by this welcome intruder, he will be astonished by the warm welcome as he slides into her secret pocket. His sensitive weapon encased in the warm honeyed sheath of lightly clenching flesh. The goddess may then fold back her knees to press her heels against his bottom, urging him to even deeper penetration.

'She will encourage him by whispering her need for more, deeper penetration. The lord will then begin to thrust his piston in and out of the captivating temple. Slowly at first, gathering speed and intensity as he feels his goddess respond by light convulsions of the body and jerking loins, urging him to even greater effort.

'He will be marvelling at the wonderful sensation of being immersed in this warm sheath of joy. Sharing the sensation of ecstacy as his loins begin to tighten. His muscles tense and jerk. His thrusts will become more and more powerful. His loins now thrashing brutally against the woman's vulva; his testicles slapping her groin.

'The tension rises in him to an even higher pitch, a screaming pitch, his thrusts becoming more convulsive. Still the tension taughtens. Tighter and tighter. He tries to hold back; to prolong the sweet agony. Suddenly, with a mighty lunge, his whole body seems to explode. Spurt after spurt of his seed erupts into the voracious shrine in an overwhelming act of worship, of wonder and awe.

'As the sound of heart-beats crescendo in her ears, drowning out the sound of his voice, The goddess submits herself up to the turmoil within her body, responding to the internal stroking of her thrilling flesh by the hard conqueror. Her whole being is centred on her sex. Nothing else exists for her. This is the only meaning of life. Her only reason for being.

'Excitement becomes overwhelmed by an awareness of growing frustration and anguish. Her whole groin begins to glow with delirium and twitching spasms in her muscles. Feelings of exquisiteness, defying description, swirl through her, growing in intensity, rippling from her groin through all her muscles. Convulsions begin to erupt in her loins, her thighs jerk spontaneously. Her grip tightens on the wonderful thrusting shaft inside her.

'The internal muscles clutch at it wildly, begging its offering. Her thighs begin to buck and thrust down hard on the slave, her master, as a great spring tightens inside. Tighter and tighter. She can't breathe easily. She is gasping. Thrusting. Jerking.

'She groans loudly with anguish, arching her loins. Thrashing arms and cries of torment. An electric shock hits her belly and her body leaps like a rag doll being tossed around. Sheer heaven is a great release of joy, happiness, delirium. Her vagina is awash with life, swilling into her cervix. A great convulsion sweeps through her.

'She slowly becomes conscious of the sensation of the idol still massaging her inner wet flesh. Contentment returns as her limbs relax. Her body is tired, but responds with flutters of rapture, reminding her of the wonderful experience of the sheer joy and wonder of the orgasm.

'Love making is giving and receiving.'

Julie applauded warmly, the others joining in. 'I think we all agree with that, Emma. It's just that some people like to give and receive from several partners. Everyone to his own.'

'And there are times when a good hard screw with a lovely cock is all I need,' chipped in Susan. 'A sheer physical need, rather than the emotional one you have described, Emma.'

'True,' added Gertie, 'a good violent fuck is a real tonic, but a long loving screw is a wonderful, satisfying experience.'

Gertie's eyes were shining with greed.

'You've started me off with that, Emma. I'm now going to take two men in my fanny at the same time. Robert and Laurie here have seen me perform this before.'

'I'm game,' George offered, indicating his groin.

'And Robert's never been known to refuse,' Gertie added, noticing his penis filling and swelling. 'Come on, then.'

She placed George lying on the ottoman with a cushion under his buttocks at the front edge and opened his legs. Facing him, Gertie straddled her body over his thighs, took his rigid prick in her hand, rubbing it up and down the length of her crack until the lubrication was flowing freely.

'Now, Robert, kneel between George's legs and ease yourself into me from behind.'

Gertie was fully embedded on George's rod, Anne helping out by holding open the flaps of her fleshy lips whilst Robert nudged the head of his prick into it. Thrusting bit by bit, he inserted the whole head before pausing.

'When you feel my muscles relax, Robert, just slide it in. One, two, three.' And she flopped over George in total relaxation. Robert drove firmly into her, his shaft penetrating to its base.

'Hey!' he cried, 'George's prick is pressing against mine.'

The other guests were delighted by the feat taking particular interest in the way the fanny lips were stretched round both shafts.

Through her grunts Gertie gasped out.

'Fuck me both together, then, and, if you can, come at the same time,' which was easier said than done. But the two men managed to work together with Anne cradling both sets of testicles to help the process along.

'Oh! That's marvellous!' Gertie gushed. 'Keep them going! I'm coming! Gosh, it's good! Very - good!'

Her gasps became more urgent and irregular until a long moan accompanied her twitching loins. But the men continued thrusting uninterrupted. They thrust deeply in and out of Gertie with the same rhythm as she murmured and gurgled with delight.

Jake came to the side of the table, knelt, and fastened his thick lips over the nipple of her dangling breast, nibbling it's swollen bud. Martin followed suit on the other side, suckling the large, firm, dark nipple.

George grunted. 'Look out! I'm starting to come already,' he gasped. 'It's starting now, it's tightening up,'

The rhythm got a bit faster.

'Go on, George. Mine's boiling up as well.' Robert's breathing came hard as his jerks became erratic. His thighs began to tremble as he started to lose all control over his jerking loins.

Robert gasped, his voice getting louder, 'I'm coming! Come on! Come with me! Both of you!'

His words rose to a climax as he bucked hard into Gertie whose gasping breath was rasping in her throat in rhythm to the thrusts, until his juices burst into her, a gushing torrent of hot juices.

The sudden feel of hot sperm splashing against the head of his own penis brought George over the top with a loud yell, his prick erupting, just as Gertie's crying moan rose to a long tearing screech, her own orgasm slamming into the pit of her loins, exploding and engulfing her with rippling intensity.

She convulsed her buttocks, thrashing them around on the two spent pricks.

Emma was impressed. 'That was absolutely amazing!'

This erotic sight had given Emma an urgent appetite for a good hard prick deep inside her belly. Bill was also well and truly aroused, having kept his sperm to himself during all this lewd activity.

As the guests dispersed for the remainder of the afternoon, Emma and Bill hurried to his room, tumbling straight onto the bed. They couldn't wait to remove all their clothes. Only those garments necessary to allow them to join their ravenous bodies together and engage in a vigorous fuck. They banged turbulently at each other, thrusting and battering violently with loud grunts and eager words of encouragement.

'Yes! Come on Bill! Fuck me! Hurt me! Let me feel that hard prick deep in me! Fill my brain with cock!'

Bill rode Emma's loins vehemently, crying out with violence.

'I'm going to choke you with prick! Fill you up till you're split wide open! This gorgeous fanny was made for fucking! My fucking! Our fucking! Gorgeous, wonderful fucking!'

Emma snarled at him impatiently. 'Yes, Bill! Fuck me! Please! Give it to me hard! Harder! Yes! Yes! I'm coming! I'm - coming! I'm - coming!'

And with an explosive cry, Emma bucked and juddered through a long sliding climax. Not needing to hold back any longer, Bill clenched his buttocks, driving relentlessly into Emma with great force. With a final upheaval, his body in violent convulsions, he splattered his pent-up juices deep into her.

Spurt after spurt after spurt, until his sperm was fully emptied into her.

'Gosh! I needed that!' Emma sighed, after they had collapsed from sheer exertion. 'All that sexy action downstairs turned me on to full.'

'Me too!' Bill agreed. 'Come on, we can get out of the rest of our clothes now and do it again.'

They undressed each other to settle down in engulfing arms to a longer session. Gentle caresses, murmured endearments and gentle love-making. They lingered over the exploration of their flesh, savoured the stroking of limbs, probing the warm, secret folds between their legs, kissing long and deep, until they had aroused themselves once more to a state of impatient readiness.

Bill eventually slid himself over Emma, lay between her parted thighs, nudging his hard staff against her groin. When he felt her warm wet lips, he found the soft orifice welcoming his arrival. The probing penis slipped slowly into Emma's supple flesh until he was fully embedded. He fucked Emma slowly and tenderly.

After sharing the joys of a long gentle session of total devotion, culminating in satisfying, intense orgasms for both, they had a refreshing sleep.

Before dinner, they showered together, leisurely drying each other in the large fluffy bath sheets, Bill paying particular attention to Emma's breasts and groin, then dressed for dinner.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 11



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host had told of a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team, the Politician about the husband's revenge.

Chapter Eleven - The Model's Tale - Going to Heaven

During dinner on the fourth day, there was lively discussion about fantasies and their aphrodisiac value. Did the reality live up to the expectation? Susan was impressed by the effects and the props used to give a realistic feel to the event. It was generally agreed that Robert and Julie must have an inexhaustible supply of costumes and props.

'Gathered over the years,' was Julie's explanation, 'mainly from old musical comedies, as you could probably guess by the style and quality!'

'No, no! Most convincing.' Laurie assured her.

'Well, Gertie as a tale to tell this evening, after we've cleared everything away and put the kitchen back into ship-shape order!'

Gertie had accompanied Bill for the week-end party, but was not his partner in real life. She was a model for girlie magazines, enjoying dominating men and showing off her body to make them drool! At twenty-six years of age she was getting towards the end of her marketable life already! But her beautifully smooth olive skin with a well shaped body together with a striking face, large dark brown eyes, long narrow nose and wide mouth with thin lips and small pointed chin kept her in demand for the time being.

There was some Italian blood in her on her mother's side. Smooth shoulders with firm, large breasts set wide apart, suspended on either side of her chest. The right breast had a mole on the inner slope and the nipples were very dark chocolate coloured set in polished saucer-shaped circles of coral. Gertie was 5'9" tall, mainly due to her long legs. The cheeks of her bottom were firmly rounded and provocatively outstanding.

With long frizzly hair, which was almost black with a blueish lustre, Gertie had a completely bald groin below her completely flat belly. Not a hair was to be seen anywhere on her vulva or mons. She stood with an arrogant and self-assured posture, and sat down with a casual elegance, showing off her long legs to perfection, inviting onlookers to speculate on what lay between the upper thighs.

Her story was about a simple country girl and her aunt.

Some of you will know that Albania is a rugged country with villages dotted around the mountain sides. Even many years ago the country was rife with warring factions and religious disagreements. But The town of Kukës has possibly the most beautiful setting of any town in the country. It is high above Lake Fierza, just below the bald summit of Mount Gjalica. there are some beautiful quiet small villages nearby with a mainly catholic population. Of no particular political or economic significance, it was left alone for many years.

But as time went on, in the mountains of the north, the spread of the Muslim faith was strongly opposed by Roman Catholics. But slowly, backwardness, illiteracy, the absence of an educated clergy, and material inducements overcame the objections.

Mary was a simple country girl whose parents had died when she was quite young. She had been brought up by the nuns, helping to tend the cattle and sheep, churn butter and so on. She was deeply religious, but, when she became of age, she went to live with her maiden aunt, a small unattractive lady in her early forties. Both Mary and her Aunt Ruth were ignorant of the facts of life, living a frugal life on their small farm in the country, taking produce to market on a Friday and going to church twice every Sunday and never forgetting to say their prayers before retiring to bed.

One day, Mary awoke from a dream in which she had seen her father in heaven, and had talked to him. All that she could remember, now that she was awake, of what they spoke about, was her father suggesting to her that she went into the village church to seek the way to heaven. She was left with a feeling of joy all the next day.

She spoke to her Aunt Ruth about it, and after a long talk, they agreed that Mary should go to Father James and ask him about the way to heaven and what, if anything, he could do to help her to see her father once again.

Father James was a benign sort of man, with a serious aspect. He was a celibate bachelor, of course, but employed an elderly lady to keep house for him. Having reached the age of fifty, he had no hopes of attracting the opposite sex for, though a man of the cloth, he had a fertile mind. In his younger days he had seduced quite a few members of his flock in return for utter silence and promising them salvation and a place in heaven.

But his lewd activities amongst the parishioners had come to the notice of the Cardinal who had quietly moved him to this small village community where his actions would be closely watched by his flock. Village gossip would make quite sure that he kept his cock to himself.

When Mary approached him after the early Sunday service, he saw a simple young lady with a pleasant round face and well proportioned body. He was reminded of those far off days when the younger females would allow him liberties with their bodies as a way to reaching up to heaven. And some mature ones as well!

So, when Mary told him about her dream, and her father's advice, she asked him how she might see heaven.

'The path to heaven is steep, my child,' he said in a quiet tone, 'requiring the deepest devotion and unquestioning service to God. Are you prepared for that?'

'I am aware of the price I may need to pay in prayer and extra devotion,' Mary assured him quietly. 'But my father was insistent that the church would pave the way to him. And I would like to try.'

'Come to the church tomorrow morning at half past eleven and we'll see what we can do for you.'

So, with a skip in her step, Mary returned to their cottage with her Aunt.

The next morning, when everyone was in the fields working, or tending to their livestock, Mary nervously entered the door of the church, standing in the gloom, allowing her eyes to get used to the dark. Father James was there and beckoned her to join him. He welcomed the innocent young lady and escorted her into a small side chapel where he sat her down facing him.

'First, Mary, a sip of wine to relax your spirit.' and he handed her a glass of rough red wine from the local vineyard. Being unused to alcohol, it went straight to her head.

'So, you want to see heaven, Mary?'

'Yes. To find my father,' she replied quietly.

'Reaching heaven is a serious process of self discovery,' he explained. 'But I can help you do that but it will require the Holy Spirit to enter your body, seek out the key that is hidden within you, to unlock the gate of paradise. We must pray together for that to happen. Is that what you would like?'

Mary nodded.

'But first, I must ask you to remove your clothes, for we enter the world naked, and we can only hope to enter heaven if we are naked as well.'

Mary hesitated.

'It is the natural state that God made us in his image,' the Vicar explained. 'There is no sin nor any embarrassment in nakedness, that is a convention designed by man to protect his mate from unwanted molestation. In the eyes of God, there is no sin it, and, if we are to sacrifice ourselves to the Holy Spirit, and allow it to occupy our soul, it can only be done through a naked body.'

Mary stood, slowly unbuttoned and discarded her dress, followed by her bra and knickers until she was standing before him naked. Her breasts were small, but nicely rounded with little pink nipples. Her belly was also rounded with a deep navel. Her hips and thighs were not particularly voluptuous, but the pride of the body was the patch of luxurious ginger hair over her pubis and vulva.

James's eyes were glued to the beauty of it. His penis stirred at the sight of a twenty-year-old virgin.

'Let us kneel together.'

Keeping his eyes on her sturdy body, Father James took hold of Mary's hands between his, squeezing them lightly.

'Dear Father, give this thy child Mary, the strength and courage to welcome the Holy Spirit into her being, that she might seek salvation and the sight of heaven. Bless the flesh of this lady, your newest recruit to the Kingdom of Heaven. Give her joy in her heart to overcome her fear. Fill her with thy mercy and with the Holy Spirit.'

They muttered 'Amen' together. Mary felt bewildered and mesmerized by the soft voice of Father James, but was appeased by his gentle words.

She was asked to face the small altar, which she did. Her back was now facing the vicar, and he was able to study her firm buttocks and notice the tuft of ginger hair in the crack. Her waist was fairly thick and her shoulders sloping.

'Please kneel' He placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly pressed her to her knees on a fairly large padded stool facing the rail.

He gazed on her buttocks. It will be a great pleasure for him to enjoy having his Holy Spirit enter her, but he might need to take things slowly to gain the young lady's confidence.

'Look up, Mary.' And she gazed on the stained glass high above the altar. The late morning sun was streaming through it, throwing a shaft of light onto her face, and the ginger curls of her hair, glittering like threads of gold.

He whispered to her quietly. 'The Holy Spirit enters your body, Mary, through the soft secret passage between your legs. It is in the most inaccessible part of your body. That is why the Lord put it there. It is a momentous moment for you to be filled with the spirit. It is a form of holy communion. But it is not a step to be taken without careful thought. I believe you are a virgin, unknown to any man.'

'Yes, sir.' Mary muttered, with bowed head., blushing.

She was aware of the special feeling she got in that part of her body from time to time, though she had been warned by the nuns to ignore it until the time came for her to be married. Until then, it must be left untouched and unattended. To be kept hidden away. Not that she felt the need very often. Just occasionally, when she saw the youth of the village, stripped to the waist, getting in the corn, did she feel any uncomfortable stirring.

'Then we shall have to proceed with care and sympathy,' Father James went on, 'but you must know that the Lord in his wisdom, has provided you with the means of adequate lubrication, to assist in the passage of the spirit into your body. Shall we test it out?'

Mary nodded.

'Well, Mary, the nipples of a woman's breasts are usually sensitive to the touch. They often trigger the production of a special lubricant in your private passage, to make it soft and slippery. Let's try.'

And from behind, he put his arms round her, placed one palm on the belly and the other over her right breast, beginning to rub the small nipple in small circular movements, feeling it stiffen and swell, much to Mary's embarrassment. But she felt a rippling feeling in her loins that was new to her. A bubbling sensation. Father James felt the twitching in her belly as well, with smiling satisfaction.

'Good! Now lean over the rail for me, and part your legs a little.'

Mary did so. Father James raised his eyebrows. Her virgin gash was well endowed with thick, heavy labia, surrounded by a thick growth of ginger hair. Although innocent of any salacious anticipation, the vaginal opening was now moist, nature having worked its own way of stimulating the glands that released the precious honey.

'Are you ready to accept the Holy Spirit into you today, Mary, or would you prefer to wait for a few days to get used to the idea?'

'Oh, now please! I can't wait,' was the response.

'First we must make quite sure that you are ready to receive the holy visitor. To do this, I shall need to touch you between your legs.'

Mary winced as Father James placed his palm against the lush vulva, squeezing the heavy lips gently to feel the honey oozing into his hand. He marveled at the wonderful contours of the virgin vulva - or any other vulva for that matter. But to be the very first to touch a maiden's pussy is something extra special.

Spreading the inner heavy brown labia apart with his fingers, Father James studied the pink valley of flesh that opened up, with its little buds surrounding the oozing vaginal opening. The opening which was now flexing to show the white starchy honey. He raised the clitoral hood to uncover the pale nub of her sex.

Pressing it with his finger sent a shudder through Mary's loins. Mary had not felt that jerk before. She couldn't decide whether it was agonising or thrilling. It certainly gave her a sudden tingle of unexpected delight.

'You are quite ready,' he smiled. 'Then, open your body ready to receive the love of God through his servant, in your personal secret shrine, designed in his wisdom for the act of worship.'

Propping herself against the rail, legs spread wide, face lifted to heaven beyond the shaft of sunlight, Mary suddenly cried out. 'Take me into thy bosom, O Lord.'

Father James lifted his cassock and looked down at his turgid penis, half filled. He took it in the palm of his hand, wet with her juices, as if weighing it. It was some time since it last sank into a warm vagina. As he fondled it, the penis grew harder and longer. Today, he would begin transporting ladies to paradise again.

It wasn't a very large penis. Just over five inches long and not too thick. In fact, an ideal size for a virgin to lose her maidenhead.

'Now, Mary, you will feel your hidden passage penetrated and begin to stretch and fill. Since it has taken no visitors before, you may find it a little uncomfortable, but that will pass as it continues its journey to seek the key to your paradise. Then you will be filled with delight and joy. Whatever happens, though, you must not speak or the spell will be broken.'

Mary felt the bluntness nudge at her vulva. She was frightened, but daren't speak. The lips were slowly pressed apart to allow the shaft to reach the portals of her vagina - her most secret mystery. Holding her breath, the experience of having her vagina penetrated for the very first time was overwhelming. Her mind focused on the sensation of the flesh moulding itself round the intruder.

The shaft slowly pushed deeper and deeper into her tight passage until she felt it entirely submerged within her. Then, gradually, it started to slide up and down. In and out. Behind the dizziness, and whirling in her head, she heard Father James whispering.

'The Holy Spirit is seeking the path to your mystery. Exploring and searching your hidden passage for the key to open the gate to your heavenly paradise. Praise be to God for his goodness and mercy.'

'Praise God!' Mary panted in awe as she focused all her being on the first fuck of her life, though if course, she herself had no concept of fucking.

And Father James ravished the sweet virgin pussy with steady, firm thrusts. It was tight and warm and slippery. It was a wondrous feeling for him to once more relish the rapture of fucking. His cock slid in and out of her warm, soft pussy with ease as he continued to lull Mary into a feeling of security with soft words of praise for her bravery.

But Mary wasn't really listening. She was beginning to delight in the new experience of having her pussy filled with cock. It soothed and excited her at the same time. Her loins clenched and her internal muscles gripped the Holy Spirit. She looked up at the window in continued amazement as her body reached a curious feeling of joy and ecstasy. There she saw the kingdom of heaven in the stained glass. She cried out 'Hallelujah.'

Then, at the pinnacle of a supreme peak of rapture never before experienced, she fainted, just as the Holy Spirit spurted its blessing into her.

After she had recovered, Mary was still in a daze of exaltation. She asked to visit the church again the following day, so that she could renew the wonderful feeling of being filled with the Holy Spirit and having it search her body for the key to heavenly bliss.

Mary didn't confess all to her Aunt Ruth. She told her that they had just had a preliminary talk, for Mary had sworn on the bible to tell no-one whatsoever about her experiences. If she did, she doubted if she would be allowed a repeat visit.

So on her second visit, Mary wore a simple cotton muslin dress over her otherwise naked body. The anticipation of her visit had affected her loins to the extent that she felt the juices seeping from her secret passage already. She longed to have it felt and penetrated again, to feel that exquisite moment of happiness.

Once naked before Father James, sipping the red wine he had given her, Mary asked if she might see the Holy Spirit that had so easily sought her mystery and gave her such heavenly bliss, before doing so again.

'Ah, that is a most private and heavenly thing,' he explained. 'But if you swear on the bible never to divulge what you see to any other person, I think I might be able to show you the Spirit.'

All this she swore solemnly before Father James raised the hem of his cassock to expose his genitals, now soft and relaxed.

Mary gasped. She was spellbound at the sight. She had never before seen the genitals of a man. She thought it was beautiful.

'But how can a thing as soft as that penetrate my secret passage?' she asked in awe.

'Ah,' came the reply, 'we have to persuade the Holy Spirit to enter it, to fill it with its holy blessing. Once that has occurred, the instrument of the Lord will once more be capable of filling your mysterious passage in its quest for the key to your heaven.'

Mary stared wide-eyed in wonder as the penis began to stir and thicken. Encouraged to touch it, which she did in silent reverence, Mary saw the shaft lengthen and thicken in her hand.

'You have filled the instrument with the essence of the Holy Spirit. It is time to allow it to penetrate your secret.' And once again, Mary leaned over the rail, her buttocks thrust out proudly, eager to accept the visit of the Holy Spirit. She gasped with joy as she felt it reach into her, searching for the key.

Father James was delighted with his new convert, fucking her greedily with long, slow strokes until the urges of the flesh forced him to gather pace, propelling him to the final thrusts of agonising triumph. Jerking loins and heavy muscular spasms emptied his sperm into her willing vagina.

For her part, Mary was convulsed in a spasms of her own. She had discovered that touching the little button above her filled passage helped to bring about that most thrilling of bodily resolutions as she looked up at the window of heaven, crying out God's name and her thanks for his beneficence.

Mary was eager to repeat the event straight away, but Father James assured her that she must not be too demanding of the Holy Spirit, who had to be allowed to recover from the labour of his worship. He told her to be patient and to return again the following Monday when he would once again transport her to heavenly joy.

Not surprisingly, Aunt Ruth was curious and not a little suspicious that Mary should be so reluctant to talk about her meetings with Father James. But she didn't make too much of it. Instead she determined to follow her niece the next time, and see for herself.

So it came about the following Monday that Ruth followed Mary at a discreet distance. But when she slipped quietly into the church, her niece was nowhere to be seen. As Ruth was about to leave, thinking perhaps the Manse was the place to go, she heard voices.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 11



Tracking them down to the little side chapel, reserved for private prayer, Ruth peered through the latticed screen. What she saw made her jaw drop in disbelief. There, sitting facing each other was her naked niece holding the erect penis of Father James in one hand, and her left breast in the other, whilst he intoned, with hand held together in prayer.

'Dear Father, give unto this thy servant Mary, the wisdom and joy in welcoming the Holy Spirit into mysterious passage, that she might seek heavenly bliss with the multitude of angels. Bless the body of this young lady. Give her joy in her heart and fill her with thy mercy and with the Holy Spirit.'

She looked on in incredulity as Mary bent herself over the altar rail to be speared by the priest's cock. His buttocks bounced vigorously as he held onto Mary's waist whilst thrusting deep into the willing passage.

'The Holy Spirit searches for the key to your magic,' he continued in a shaky voice as his passion grew, 'ready to anoint thee with the outpouring of his love and sympathy.'

By this time, Mary was moaning and groaning, her hips grinding and flexing with excitement as she gazed up at the window. Ruth had seen enough. She strode into the chapel with determination.

Father James turned with surprise, his cock springing from Mary's vagina, just a the point of ejaculation. The sperm spurted from the end of the cock, spraying the floor of the chapel at Ruth's feet with its white droplets. Young Mary was too delirious to notice her aunt's entrance at first.

When everyone had recovered, the priest explained to Ruth how he was trying to help the young lady to join the heavenly host by being a bride of Heaven, whilst he, as the servant of God, was the instrument used to fulfil her wishes.

Mary, full of enthusiasm, tried to persuade her Aunt Ruth of the wonderful feeling the Holy Spirit offered.

So it came to pass that a sceptical Aunt Ruth insisted that the priest filled her with the same spring of the Holy Spirit as well, so that she could be the judge.

Although uncertain whether or not he could achieve a second coming, Father James decided to give it a try. Ruth was certainly no beauty, but taken from behind, the priest would be spared having to gaze at her face. Besides, another female body to explore and ravish would probably provide him with the enthusiasm and strength.

So Mary watched as her Aunt Ruth removed her shift and underwear, standing naked in front of the priest. Never before seen her aunt stark naked, Mary was fascinated by her figure. She had a shortish body, with big, fat breasts whose large nipples drooped onto her solid belly. The patch of mousey-coloured hair covering her lower belly was sparse. The globular buttocks were firm and rounded.

Keeping her eyes closed, Ruth was aware of the priest studying her charms, his hands squeezing the breasts to test their resilience and rub the nipples. The action soon had the areola swelling. Ruth had not had anyone other than herself toy with her breasts. The experience pleased her. She whimpered with contentment.

As before with Mary, Father James asked her to kneel before the altar and open her thighs so that he could test the readiness of her passage to accept the Holy Spirit. Mary watched in fascination as the priest ran his hand over her thick vulva, slipping his fingers into the gash.

Unlike Mary, her Aunt's labia were fully hidden within the outer lips. When the priest drew the outer labia apart, the inner valley of flesh was flanked by two thick ridges of deep red folds, joining together at the clitoral apex, where the sizable button protruded from its cover. About half way down the valley they merged into the surrounding flesh, giving way to four sizable folds concealing the woman's most closely kept secret, now leaking white honey, her private juices.

The priest intoned prayers similar to those he had with Mary, who was gazing at his cassock being pushed out with the stiffening cock beneath it. Lifting the hem to expose the now stiff penis, he rubbed Ruth's essence from his fingers over the head, before placing it at the entrance of her hot vagina. One firm thrust had the shaft fully embedded and, during the few minutes of forceful fucking, Ruth expressed her approval with a succession of grunts and whimpers.

Ruth was transported with the unexpected thrill of being penetrated for the first time. It was a phenomenal feeling. One which she wished to go on forever. The cock lunged unto her, caressing the inside of her passage, stimulating the nerves of the vagina. Her loins tensed and flexed, jolted and jerked with uncontrollable muscular contractions.

Mary looked on, all smiles and a gladdened heart as her aunt cried out her invocation to be taken into the arms of the angels. She screamed and whimpered with ecstacy.

Father James was pleased with himself when he felt his loins begin to tense and flex. As he intoned the prayers, now screwing her hard, spasms rocked his groin until he filled Mary's aunt with holy juices.

But when Ruth asked for a second offering, he preached the necessity of prudence, by abstaining from excessive action, explaining that the union could only occur when his instrument was inhabited by the holy spirit. When the spirit left him after such an event, it would be some time before it could return.

And so it came about that Mary and her aunt would take turns during the week to slip into to the church for an hour, to satisfy their new-found desires, wallowing in the penetration of the holy spirit to their passage of mystery, whilst enjoying the vision of heaven as ripples of rapture overtook their bodies.

But alas! One fateful day a marauding band of bandits ransacked the village, taking the priest as hostage and rounding up the women to rape and molest them. Fortunately, Mary escaped this, being out of the village at the time, looking for a missing sheep in the fields. But seeing from far off, the band of thugs sweep into their village, she ran away to the nuns who had brought her up.

She never saw her aunt again.

It was soon evident that Mary was putting on weight and, lo and behold, a few months later, she gave birth to a baby boy. Mary was astonished! When asked who the father was, all she could say was that the holy spirit had entered her body, and none other. No matter how many times she was asked, and what dire threats were made to her if she didn't tell the truth, she always insisted it was the holy spirit.

Because there were no men left in the village, no one could check if any of them had taken the virginity of the young Mary. Though had this been the case, the nuns were sure the culprit would have confessed to Father James.

A visiting cardinal questioned Mary closely, but the simple young woman repeated that she had been entered by the holy spirit in the church, and none other. He accepted that the mother was immaculate and the child was pure, born of the holy spirit. As the enormity of this news spread, the nuns were visited by many rich and famous people, all wishing to see for themselves the new virgin Mary.

The nuns built a wonderful convent with the generous gifts showered on them and a separate small side chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, for Mary's private use. Her great disappointment was that she was no longer able to see heaven.

The boy grew up to be a carpenter of course.

The guests applauded Gertie for her ingenious tale but, however unlikely in today's enlightenment, agreed that such a thing could have happened to a simple young lady without any prior knowledge of sex or biological explanation of the procreation process. 

'It's really the same tale that Boccachio recounted, about putting the devil into hell, isn't it?'

'Ah, but here the young lady is being transported to heaven to see her father.'

'And did she see him?'

'Of course not, but she found the journey so delightful, she wanted to make it again and again!'

'Don't we all darling,' was Julie response. 'What a shame she was cut off in her prime, so to speak.'

'Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to go to heaven. Will you all join me?'

It was Delia who had spoken as she stood, inviting Martin to join her in the centre of the room, beside the large ottoman.

'Come, darling, show our friends what I have to offer.'

And Martin, took Delia's robe by the shoulders, opening it to display his wife's naked front. The Marilyn Munroe look-alike, a thirty-one year old willowy blonde had the calm exterior of a duchess. She held her head high with a tendency to look down her nose with a slightly superior air. Her large alabaster bust was large, sagging a little without support. The chunky nipples were large, and swollen with desire, on a bed of dark pink areolas.

Her navel was rounded, with neatly trimmed pubic hair, as blonde as the rest of her hair. There was no doubt, she was very attractive. As Martin slid the robe from her shoulders, Delia held her arms high, turning her body for all to examine the perfect buttocks. Lowering her arms, she allowed her hands to caress the breasts before Martin helped her to sit on the ottoman.

'I remember the first time I watched Delia have sex with another partner,' Martin explained. It was the most exciting, erotic experience I'd ever had. Mind blowing! I still find it remarkably exciting. But that first time was something special.'

'Same here!' Delia agreed. 'I think our initial act of welcome when we come here is so thrilling and - oh, I don't know - truly wonderful in a way. A real sharing experience. We're both so happy for our partner to be sharing the joy of sex with other friends.'

From his pocket Martin produced an eye mask which he placed round Delia's head.

'I prefer not to see who is pleasuring me at any time, so that I can concentrate exclusively on the sensation his cock is giving inside my body. Each cock is different in shape, and each guy has his own technique.'

Delia settled herself on the ottoman, knees bent, legs spreadeagled, arms thrown wide, displaying the charms of her body to the full. Robert approached her, unfastening his gown to release his already stiff cock. It was a generous size, extremely hard and thick and perhaps half-an-inch or so longer than average. His completely shaved groin gave the appearance of a bigger than usual weapon.

Swarthy, with an olive bloom, rearing vertically above a bag of hairless flesh distinctly showing two large plum shapes weighing down the sack. The shank had a thick inch-long scar on the upper side, the result of an unfortunate accident when he was younger she was later told. It provided a natural hard ridge below the natural hard swelling where his large bulb met the shaft.

Robert was very proud of his penis and he adored it with a narcissistic intensity. He would gaze at it in the mirror each morning with his erection, pull back the foreskin to admire its girth and length. He would stand sideways and thrust out his groin to admire its reflection and worship its power. Vitamins were taken regularly with other herbs to improve the power and abundance of his ejaculate. At least, that was what he believed.

Gazing at Delia's vulva, he studied the plump folds, with thick juices trickling down her inner thighs. Leaning over her, propped up by arms either side of her, he directed his cock at the squelchy entrance of the puffed vagina. The four petals of pink flesh guarding the entrance to her secret joy, opened out as the puckered vagina dilated at the feel of the cock nudging at her.

Watched by the others, with a single stroke, Robert plunged the cock up to the hilt inside her a far as to her cervix.

Delia gasped with joy at that unique moment when her vagina was entered, jerking her loins to welcome the intruder. Her mind concentrated on the ever-wonderful sensation of a thick shaft sliding into her, invading the sensitive soft flesh, triggering off the delicate nerves inside the passage. Flutters of sheer bliss filled her belly. The delicious long deep thrusts thrilled her as she moaned her appreciation, squeezing her internal muscles to clutch the visitor.

Unaware of the identity of the person behind the invading cock, Delia knew that his partner would be standing at the head of the ottoman, her gleaming eyes watching his cock thrust in and out between the soaking labia. She felt hands exploring her large, supple breasts, nipples and pubic hair. Her whole body felt ablaze with lust.

Delia wallowed in the ecstacy of being shagged. Her body was responding with growing intensity, asking for more, more, more! Greedy for cock! She was in a seventh heaven, sighing and gasping as the cock reached deep into her body, again and again. Her eyes were screwed up with pure rapture, her head rolling from side to side.

The strokes became faster and more erratic as the cock battered her gorgeous pussy, but before she could reach the climax of the ecstasy developing inside her, she heard a loud cry of triumph as the cock withdrew from her. A moment later, to a smattering of applause and happy laughter, Delia felt a shower of warm juices splattered her breasts and chin. She refused the strong temptation to rub her clitoris to bring herself off, knowing that it would come later.

Then, suddenly, she gasped with elation as another cock plunged into her hungry fanny. A shorter variety, but with a pronounced bend in the middle which had the ability of stimulating parts of her vaginal flesh not usually reached during intercourse. And Delia, being half way into an orgasm, reeled at the sensation of the cock thudding into her delicate passage with heavy, rapid strokes. She cried out in sexual exuberance, crying out for still more.

With her loins rising and falling to meet the fast rhythm, the tension within Delia built up to a rapid climax. It was the most indescribable thrilling sensation in the world for her. Wave after wave of delicious joyfulness swept over her, it seemed for ages, each wave more powerful than the previous one. Just as Delia was in reach of the ultimate goal, she was deprived by the withdrawal of the cock, splattering its contents over her. The guests groaned their disappointment at the short time it took for this one to ejaculate.

Desperate for release, Delia thrashed her legs, rolled over, pushing her bottom out, the puffed lips of her ravenous fanny begging for more cock.

'More!' she cried in despair, 'I need to be fucked! Now! More!'

And she was immediately obliged by a thick shaft ramming straight into the beckoning orifice. 

'Yes! Yes!' she cried out in eager triumph as she felt it sink into her.

Not aware of the owner of the penis, Delia reckoned it was only just above the average six inches - perhaps six and a half - but it was thick and sturdy. And that's all that mattered to her. It was pounding into the vagina with thrilling deep thrusts, bringing her to the boil very quickly. Beneath the penis, the large sack of testicles slapped noisily against her clitoris sending showers of thrills throughout her body. 

Lips were now suckling her nipples, fingers kneading deep into the soft flesh of her breasts. A stiff cock was pushed between her lips into her parched mouth, gasping with passion and urgency. It fucked her face softly.

It was coming! She felt the waves welling up inside her loins again, crashing against her internal nerves, sending her brain into a whirl of sexual fever. Then, Delia's mind suddenly exploded. Her body jerked and thrashed. She saw the glory of her own private heaven flashing in her lust-ridden imagination. Erupting cocks, like fountains, drowning her in sperm. Pouring over her in a warm deluge. Awash with the sticky fluid, Delia was panting for breath, whimpering and moaning in agonised rapture.

As she subsided, she snatched away the blindfold to see, over her shoulder, Jake still fucking her helpless body, until, with a mighty lunge, he withdrew. Three successive gushes of thick starchy liquid exploded from his penis shooting up into the air in glittering sprays. The guests cheered and clapped.

George was the last of the male guests. Delia had slumped in exhaustion, but George grasped her by the hips, twisting her onto her back again, before pushing her legs as high as her shoulders, and pressing down hard on them. He looked at the defenceless, battered vulva, the open vagina still in a dilated state, after being stretched wide by the four preceding cocks, before placing the end of his own against the swollen lips.

Susan had taken up her place at the head of the ottoman, watching her husband shag her friend. It was a fascinating and exciting event for her. Group sex never failed to turn her on more than any other sexual act.

George's slender cock slid effortlessly into the wide open vagina. Delia closed her eyes again, moaning with happiness as another cock split her vaginal lips apart, searching for her mystery deep within her. George fucked deliberately with regular full strokes, watching his cock appear and disappear into the fanny of one of the world's most beautiful women. That, at least, was one magazine's claim of her.

The guests watched the ritual copulation until George felt the sap rising, withdrawing to spurt his offering over Delia's shoulder and across her breasts.

To everyone's surprise, Gertie stepped in between Delia's open thighs, to place her bunched fingers into the sloppy opening. Delia's hips lunged and bucked, as she felt Gertie's whole hand slowly penetrate as far as her wrist, into the stretched passage.

Martin manipulated Delia's clitoris as Gertie pushed her whole hand in and out. Delia rose to another climax still lingering in her loins, until, once more, her body thrashed and jerked in a convulsion of orgasmic tremors.

After Delia had subsided, Enid, who had a craving for sperm, carefully licked all the pools and dribbles from her body.

At this stage, Emma and Bill decided to retired to engage in their own adoration of each other's body, whilst the others re-enacted their physical devotion to the art of sex. Mary and Jake took on the role of hosts. After the group activity, the guests paired off for private devotion in their respective beds. Enid made sure that she was with Jake for the night. She would give him a night to remember! So she invited Anne to join them for the first half-hour.

George and Martin made it a foursome with Gertie and Julie in the master bedroom. Susan paired off with Robert and Delia with Laurie for a sexual marathon. 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 12



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities. The Host had told of a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team, the Politician about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale told how a country girl found heaven between her legs.

Chapter Twelve. The Stockbroker's Tale. The Husband's Relapse

Emma came to consciousness the fourth morning with a feeling of well-being glowing throughout her body. She snuggled into the warmth of her self-satisfaction as the events of the previous night began to trickle through to her consciousness. The detail came to her piece by piece and she realised that Bill was still beside her, snoring lightly.

She turned her head to look at him. He was tousled and had morning stubble on his face but he looked peaceful and content. Her hand stole to his groin and gently fingered the flaccid penis which had filled her so often during the night with such joy and exhilaration. Without trying to wake him, Emma lifted the covers to steal a look at his soft penis.

The warm stale smell of sex invaded her nostrils provoking her sensuality. She wriggled herself under the sheets until she could smell his strong musky scent and nuzzled her lips into his hairy thighs, finding the soft tube and drawing it into her mouth. She tingled with arousal as she felt it twitch inside her cheeks, the legs parting slightly with a instinctive reaction.

The whole length was now in her warm mouth and her hands were fondling the large plums in the huge hairy pouch. Throb by throb, the shaft thickened and stiffened as she felt Bill begin to stir. A long sigh announced his approval. He lay on his back, legs now wide apart, enjoying the attention Emma was paying to her new idol of manhood. Bill pushed back the covers to watch her head nodding up and down.

Emma felt his loins begin to rouse, tremble and shake until, with a lunge, he erupted his first seed of the day into her waiting mouth. Emma gulped down the discharge, licking the spent shaft until it began to soften again. She cuddled up in Bill's arms happy and content. He smiled at her.

'Good morning darling! Will you always wake me up in that way?'

'Hello! I will if you like, though sometimes it would be nice if you woke me with something similar.'

He laughed. 'I promise darling.' He went down on her to stimulate her genitals and flick his tongue over her clitoris, until Emma shuddered into a quiet orgasm.

On this fourth morning, the weather was slowly improving, but it looked as though they would be stranded for a day or two more yet. After an eventful night spent by the various couples, breakfast was a lively event, with personal jokes and exchanges of private experiences.

After it, the guests met to hear another tale, this time by Enid.

At thirty-eight, Enid was a high flying, very wealthy stockbroker, and wife of the Laurie, the government minister. She was small, and not particularly pretty, though not unattractive. Slim, dressed this morning in an expensive tweed suit, her fair hair was combed back and tied into a bun. Enid was wearing tortoise shell spectacles, looking for all the world like a school mistress of the Miss Brodie sort.

With pale grey eyes and thin lips, no one who didn't know her intimately would have thought she had any sexy thoughts at all. Though not a recognised beauty, Enid had a voracious appetite for sex and, to make up for her lack of beauty, she had studied and perfected the art of satisfying men. She also had an unquenchable appetite for sperm, collecting it in a liqueur glass, to sip and savour the texture and taste.

Fellatio, erotic stimulation and knowing exactly when to prevent ejaculation and so keep her partner on the brink of sexual agony until they beat their heads and cried out in frustration, was her speciality. She also had a few tricks up her sleeve to increase their arousal. She had ultimate control over her bladder and could trickle urine onto their chests and into their navels and into a wine glass at will, without difficulty.

Emma remembered Enid's naked figure from the group activities. She was not very tall, with sloping shoulders and small rounded breasts, set close together on the front of her chest, with almost girlish pink buds for nipples. Slender hips showed prominent thigh bones, and between them, the sparse light hair covering her flat mound. Her legs were a good length and well proportioned but, like the rest of her body, on the thin side.

The outstanding feature of her body was the surprisingly large bean-shaped clitoris, its tip jutting out from under the prominent dome of flesh, which men found fascinating and loved to suck and nibble like a grape. Some women as well! She was also very good at reaching awe-inspiring orgasms with thrashing limbs, screams and wails as though in her death throes.

A slim vulva barely protected the thin pink gash, with its protruding, small puffed lips. Enid's nectar was quite salty with a faint flavour of mushrooms.

This was her tale.

A city stockbroker, called Charles, was in something of a quandary. His wife's cousin had come up from the country to spend a few weeks with hin and his wife, Amanda, following the death of her husband some weeks earlier from a tragic road accident, leaving her a wealthy widow. His problem was that she was extremely attractive and Charles - who had a weak head where attractive women wearing expensive perfume were concerned - had fallen for her straight away.

Amanda had welcomed her cousin, Rachel, with delight and enthusiasm, since they hadn't met for several years. Both were the same age, and their mothers were identical twins. The cousins were delighted to find that they had many physical similarities. Hair colouring, build, general deportment - all were strikingly similar. Perhaps that was why Charles took to her, though her perfume was most alluring.

The main difference between the cousins though, was their general attitude to life. Whilst Amanda was something of a bimbo - a beautiful butterfly, blonde and simple - Rachel was intelligent and forthright, though no less beautiful. During her marriage she had a number of discreet affairs with distinguished men of equal discretion, whilst Amanda doted only on Charles, ignoring any outside attention from others - of which there had been plenty, though she probably hadn't noticed.

Her husband, however, was not so single minded and recently had been discovered having an affair with one of Amanda's charming friends. There's nothing worse than competition between a woman's friends for her husband's heart - well, his genitals actually! Amanda was heart-broken and it took much persuasion, and a diamond necklace from Charles to persuade his wife that it was just a minor relapse on his part, and that he loved her, and none but her. She believed him. I said she was simple!

Now, by a strange coincidence, always a vital ingredient in these tales, one of Charles's colleagues, also a city stockbroker was seriously affected by Amanda's quiet beauty. He found her irresistible. He doted on her. He dreamed of her. His case was desperate, but there was nothing he could think of which might persuade the lady to return his passion. The coincidence is that Derek had been included as one of the distinguished lovers of Rachel, having finished the affair some time before he first met Amanda.

Lying with her husband in bed on the evening of Rachel's arrival, Amanda asked Charles what he thought of her cousin? A bemused Charles admitted that Rachel was very beautiful, but that he personally was not attracted to her in any way whatsoever. She believed him! He didn't even blush at the lie!

'Oh, lovely!' his wife retorted. 'Then you won't mind if she stays for a week or two?'

Charles heart missed a beat. 'She may stay as long as you wish, darling.' And he immediately started to work out how he could seduce the visitor. The anticipation of sinking his manhood deep into Rachel, affected his enthusiasm and, tentatively feeling his wife's vulva, and finding it rather damp, he drew up her nightie, rolling on top of her to show just how much he adored her. With every stroke, of course, he was thinking of her cousin. Amanda whimpered and oo-ed and ah-ed until she reached the satisfaction of a delicious orgasm - the first one in several weeks, before he discharged, withdrew, rolled over and slept..

It has to be said that Rachel was not altogether immune to Charles's attractions, for he was a handsome man, witty and attentive. And above all, wealthy and distinguished. She was drawn to him. Were he not his cousin's wife, she thought, she would make a play for him, enticing him into bed. 

Over lunch the day following Rachel's arrival, Charles admitted to Derek - for that was his colleague's name - that he was really stunned by his sister's cousin. When Derek discovered that they were talking about his previous mistress, Rachel, he persuaded Charles to invite him to join them for cocktails that very same evening, to meet her. And so it was that Derek and Rachel met up again to reignite their association - but as a means of helping each other, for Rachel had not altogether given up on the idea of a sexual fling with Charles.

'We agreed our affair was only a passing whim on both our parts,' he told her when they were alone for a few moments. 'Though I am cut to the heart by Amanda. She dotes so much on the husband, that I am a loss to work out how I am to seduce the wife?'

Rachel patted his hand. 'Leave all to me, she said. 'I shall prepare the ground, but I need you to put it about that Charles is having a torrid affair with a woman in the office. I'm sure there are many attractive ladies in the City office.'

'Oh, that's easy,' he grinned.. 'they cue up to be seduced!'

That evening before dinner, Charles took his customary walk round his large garden. He was accompanied by Rachel, Amanda having excused herself to deal with domestic matters. Charles was unusually quiet, for his mind was in a turmoil having this delightful woman alone at his side for the first time.

'Are you feeling well, Charles,' Rachel asked. 'You are very silent. Have you no conversation this evening?'

'Well, I confess to be out of sorts, in a way.'

'Can I be of help?' Rachel asked.

'Ah! Now there's the problem. In one way that would only make matters worse. In another unlikely way, it would solve everything.'

'This sounds most intriguing. Tell me more.'

'I'm afraid if I do, you would run to my wife and repeat everything to her.'

'Goodness me. What do you take me for? I respect you both far too much to be the runner of tales.'

And so it was that Charles poured out his heart to her, saying he would not rest until he had his arms wrapped around her delightful body and taken her. And with that he took her in his arms and embraced her.

'The very perfume you wear intoxicates. It drives me to such lascivious thoughts that I dare not name!'

He didn't need to. Rachel knew only too well what they were. She kissed his cheek lightly and touched his crotch as though by accident, before pushing herself away from him, with some reluctance, with a flutter of excitement rippling through her loins.

'You must go in to Amanda immediately,' she said, 'we can't be seen like this.'

He walked briskly away towards the house just as Derek appeared at the gate. They waved. Derek had seen the furtive embrace, sensing that the cat was well and truly out of the bag. This was the time for the second act.

'I think one good turn deserves another,' he told Rachel. 'Charles is fond of you, which the flush on your face tells me you are not unhappy about. I am fond of his wife, which she is unhappy about. If we play our cards right, you can enjoy the fruits of Charles body, and I can enjoy those of his wife.'

'Oh?'

'Convince her that Charles is still seeking affairs, and she'll seek revenge in the arms of another. That is, me!'

The following morning it fell easily into place. Whilst taking their early walk in the park, Amanda asked her cousin about her love life. Having been assured that there was no man sharing her bed - but with a little time, her circumstances in that direction might change - Amanda shared her best-kept secret with Rachel without prompting.

'I have to confess, Rachel, that there are one or two rather dishy men sniffing around me,' she confided, ' but one particular you know.'

'Oh, do tell!' she was implored.

'Why, it's Derek. But, of course, there's no chance that I would ever succumb to his advances. So why am I surprised that I do not find the thought of it unwelcome?'

'Ah,' he cousin retorted, 'it certainly isn't love, then, but perhaps ...'

'No, no. No-one will ever replace my husband in my heart. Nor even in my bed!'

'What? Not even if you were a slighted wife seeking revenge?'

'O goodness, Rachel! No revenge should ever be taken against a husband if they falter. To wrong his bed is such a vengeance, which of all vengeances -

'Is the sweetest,' Rachel broke in with a light laugh. 'Oops. Sorry, darling, I'm talking silly, aren't I?'

'Yes, indeed. Surely one can forgive a single, silly indiscretion in ones' husband.'

'No man worth having is true to his wife, or ever was, or ever will be so. He has strayed once already, you say. So, why may he not stray again?'

'Dear Rachel! Do you really think so?'

'Once a rake, always a rake. That's the trouble with men, my dear. Once they've deceived you and got away with it, they'll try again, believe me!'

This troubled the simple Amanda. And that very same morning over coffee with other friends at the fashionable coffee house in the town, it was divulged that Charles had been seen embracing one of his staff in very intimate circumstances. Amanda was devastated.

The other friends pretended to be shocked at the revelation. Rachel smiled inwardly. Derek had wasted no time in setting up the rumour. Nevertheless, she persuaded Amanda not to confront her husband for the time being, until they'd devised a suitable revenge, which was agreed.

Amanda was still upset at lunch.

'I'm plagued to death. I don't know where to turn. Why do husbands do it? We women may come in different shapes and sizes, but that essential part of us which they all seem to find so desirable, is the same in all of us. Why do they seek for it all the time in others?'

'To make quite sure what you have just said is true. After all, how else could they be persuaded that all women were the same in the vital respect?' 

'You think the gossip true - that he's going astray again?

'I suspect so,' was Rachel's response. 'Yes, I did suspect as much, but did not wish to alarm you.'

'Alarm! What should I do? Advise me, please. What would you do?'

Rachel shrugged. 'Care as little for him as he does for me.'

'That wouldn't stop him. He'd never notice!' Amanda sobbed.

'Look, Amanda, if you knew ...' She hesitated. This was the time to put the knife in. 'Listen. You yourself are likewise to be led astray if you would consent to ...'

Amanda interrupted. 'Aye, but more as a joke than in earnest.'

'You call it a joke, do you? Well, I must tell you in earnest, what I've had to put up with on your account.

Amanda looked at her in surprise.

'I have been forced to sit,' Rachel went on, 'and hear you praised for hours, without one compliment about me! Not one. If you are a real woman, you'd have been in an ecstasy to hear how feelingly he spoke of your hair, your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your teeth, your tongue, your chin, your neck, and ... well, so on, and so on. He's smitten by you.'

'Hang on. Who is this you're talking about?'

'The guy you find objectionable, and who is becoming a target of my attention. Derek.'

'Rubbish! I'm sure I am not in love with him, nor never shall be. So I am no rival to you in his affections. But do you think my husband could play false?'

'All husbands are false their wives. Deceivers all. I told you only yesterday - once a rake, always a rake. That's the trouble with men. And your husband is no exception. Women find him a very attractive dish. And being egotistical, like all men, he can't resist temptation!'

Enid interrupted her story again at this point, to assure the guests that present company were, of course, excepted in this generalisation. All those present did not deceive their spouses - indeed, they were encouraged to admit their fantasies and preferences. Although, in her heart, she knew Rachel was correct. Men found it difficult to resist the temptation of a handsome woman, and women of a handsome man, for that matter!

This sparked off a short discussion about temptation and whether men were to blame for not resisting it or women for putting the temptation in their way in the first place. This was an argument Susan and George had had several times, after she had discovered his affair with a willowy blonde. With immediate recriminations over, it led to a much more open sex life for them.

Now sitting across Johnnie's lap, Susan could feel the stiffness of his cock pressing against her. The attention he had given to her breasts and nipples whilst Enid was telling her story, had got her worked up. She decided she wanted to feel full of cock. Her kimono was spread like a tent over both laps, so she groped in the opening of Johnnie's gown, steering his stiffness directly into her cock-ready vagina.

The guests settled down to the rest of the tale, the couples gently fondling one another.

Well, continued Enid, Rachel decided that it was time to be open with her cousin. Otherwise matters might get into a, awkward tangle she wouldn't care to unravel should it happen. Much as she would have liked to have made love with Charles, to upset her cousin was not a price she was prepared to pay. And, Amanda would argue, some men are small and some are very tall, some are fat and some are thin, but that fascinating piece of anatomy dangling from their groin is the same in them all.

Poor Amanda. She really was naive and lacking in experience! Maybe it's better that she stays that way, for once she discovers the truth about the wonderful variety to be found in men's appendages, she might lust for more and more! If, for instance, she fell for Derek's charms, she would certainly feel fulfilled once penetrated. Yet, Rachel realised, she didn't know what Charles was hiding there. It's a shame she never would!

'Look, darling,' Rachel began, 'I'm going to confess to you quite simply, that the other woman your husband is chasing, is your own cousin. Me!'

Amanda gasped and stared in disbelief. 'But he promised me ...'

'Promises are nothing to a man with lust in his heart. But I have no wish to give in to his desires,' she lied. 'So, I have devised a plan to uncover their deceit for what it is. For neither of them know what is in the other's mind. Derek is prepared to cuckold his friend, and Charles is prepared to be disloyal to his wife. So! Trust me!'

And Rachel outlined her plan which they intended to put into action the following evening. Assignations were made by Rachel for both parties, persuading Derek that Amanda was reluctantly willing to revenge her husband's infidelity like for like.

Then she promised Charles that she would assuage his uncontrolled desire to sample the delights of her body and explained how he might pretend to meet a business colleague, whilst sneaking into her room by the back stairs.

Neither of the men suspected anything amiss, so impatient were they both to fulfil their aim of sinking their shaft into the target of their lust.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 12



Over after-dinner mints, brandy and coffee in the lounge, Amanda and Rachel made final arrangements that following evening before the men were expected to arrive. They would exchange nightgowns, bracelets and ear-rings, so that the distinctive scent on the clothes would confirm their identity to the men. Amanda would go to Rachel's room to await her assignation with Charles, and Rachel to Amanda's. Derek was expected to arrive at around nine, making a so-called surprise visit to seek Charles's advice on a delicate matter of urgent business.

Enid interrupted her tale here, to explain that Charles's house was a handsome Georgian pile in substantial grounds, with rooms and corridors all over the place. A regular rabbit warren. Bedrooms were sometimes connected by dressing rooms, and were all accessible from the servants staircase at the back of the house.

She continued:

'I shall meet him here in the lounge,' Rachel explained. 'I'll tell him that you're resting in the dark during your husband's absence, devastated by his infidelity, and that you weep and sigh for a lover to wreak revenge. Then I shall tell him which is your room and leave. He will debate for some moments before venturing himself into your room, and the housekeeper will offer him some refreshments.'

'What do you do when he appears in the bedroom?' Amanda asked

'Put up a light struggle, because to give in too willingly will make him suspicious. And you must not speak, other than to utter squeals and groans.'

'It's all very exciting,' giggled Amanda.

'I shall go to the writing room, then run up the servants stairs to your room. He won't suspect a thing. There'll be time enough to slip into your nightclothes, put on your bracelet before reclining on the bed. Hush, That's the bell. Quick!'

'I can't wait,' Amanda giggled as she went to her room.

After a few moments, Derek was show in by the housekeeper, who had been told that a practical joke was to played on the Master and his friend, and to show no surprise at whatever might transpire.

'I hope I'm not unwelcome at this hour of the evening?' he asked smoothly for the benefit of the housekeeper who had escorted him in. 'If so, you can turn me out again.'

'Charles is not come home yet,' Rachel explained, and he usually keeps good hours. Amanda is waiting for him in her bedroom. She suspects him of being with the mistress I told her of, even as we speak. She is feeling sorry for herself and in need of comfort.'

'I shall be only too delighted to be her comforter!'

'Her room is at the top of the staircase. Although she waits for him, I don't think you'll be refused, whilst she waits. Indeed, you must pretend to be her husband for her to accept what she is doing. He'll be some time I guess.'

Derek explained that he was told about half an hour ago by Charles that he was going to meet with a business colleague at his club, which he expected would keep him out till after midnight.'

'Well, in that case perhaps I should write those letters I've been promising myself all day. I'll go through into the writing room.'

Left to himself, Derek looked around the room, looked in to mirror to make sure he was properly presentable, relishing the moment he would make love to his friend's stunning wife, waiting for him between the sheets of her bridal bed. Revenge indeed! There was no immediate hurry. He would sip a little brandy first. 

Meantime, Rachel went into the writing room, then ran swiftly up the servants staircase, through the joint dressing rooms, and into Amanda's room, where her cousin was waiting to help her to quickly into Amanda's nightgown, rings, and all the things they had planned. Amanda was already wearing Rachel's negligee and nightgown, sprayed with her perfume, and she now tiptoed hurriedly down the back corridor, and let herself into Rachel's bedroom.

Rachel slipped between the sheets of Amanda's bridal bed, switching off the bedside light, to await her lover, smiling wickedly. She thought it might have been nice had she been waiting for Charles, but then, in the dark, one man is very like another!

Reaching Rachel's room, Amanda sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh of relief, heart pounding! Now to wait for Charles! She thought it very strange to be having a secret assignation with her own husband. And exciting!

But there was a hitch in the arrangements. Charles had already entered the house through the back door, ran silently up the servants' staircase and into Rachel's room, where he hid himself in her private bathroom. He removed his clothes, except his shirt, and was now waiting to listen for Rachel to come into her room.

Unaware of his presence, Amanda was sitting on the bed composing herself. The bedside light was lit and she was contemplating how long she'd need to wait when she suddenly heard his voice.

'My dearest!' he whispered

Amanda gasped with fright, grasping for the bed-light switch to plunge the room into darkness. Her heart was pounding even more at the thought of their plot being discovered!

'Shhh! It's no ghost; take it in your arms, you'll find it solid flesh.' Charles grappled with her round the waist, pulling her back onto the bed, kissing her neck and shoulders.

'That perfume,' he sighed. 'It quite overcomes me!'

Amanda sighed with relief. He believed he was with Rachel.

'Is the coast clear? Where is my wife?'

'Derek,' was all that Amanda could gasp.

'Then we are safe enough. Therefore, my dear, charming angel, let us make a good use of our time.

'What ..?'

'Hush! Don't speak. My wife's bedroom is through that wall. She may hear.' And his hand strayed into her nightgown and began to caress her soft breasts. The perfume quite overcame him. It also had a remarkable effect on his penis!

'Help! help!,' Amanda whispered to herself. 'I'm being ravished!' And it was a most exciting feeling. She almost wished it really was another man than her husband.

She reached down beside her, allowing her hand to discover and engage with his already stiff cock. She gave a sharp intake of breath.

'Goodness,' she thought, stiffening slightly, 'this is even bigger than I remember. The excitement of another woman has inflamed him beyond all reason.' and she toyed with it whilst his hand threw open her gown and made straight for the central treasure he so eagerly sought.

Charles was enraptured! Her gasp at the feel of his cock pleased him. She was clearly impressed by what she found there. Her own genitals were soft and dewy with delicious juices, the surrounding swollen lips had a light covering of golden curls, which his exploring fingers found charming. They dabbled in the juices leaking from her. He would not rush matters. This lady's body demanded the fullest attention and he would ensure that she got it!

Amanda was enthralled with Charles's love-making. She could remember no previous occasion when he had paid so much attention to her face, neck, ears, breasts - all of her was being smothered with kisses and roving hands intent on discovering every inch of her anatomy. Special attention was given to her fleecy inner thighs, the hidden creases and valleys, and the secret fleshy orifice leading to the luscious vagina, the seat of her heavenly wonder. Her body responded with tremors and small, delectable spasms of ecstacy.

Never before had Amanda enjoyed the heavenly delights of having her vulva kissed, nibbled and licked. It was an sensational revelation for her. On earlier occasions that Charles had tried, she had refused, believing it to be unclean, but as his mistress she couldn't refuse in case he realised who she was. So a new sexual experience was relished.

Amanda responded by caressing her husband's thighs and buttocks, stroking the length of his hard shaft, feeling at his testicles. She didn't normally consider his testicles as anything arousing, but tonight she squeezed them gently, her fingers exploring their shape and size. Never before having bothered to examine his genitals, she now found discovering them anew, fascinating and enchanting.

When Charles eventually rolled Amanda onto her right side, thighs apart, he threw one leg across the delicious cheeks of her bottom, pressing his erection against the soft flesh of her labia. Amanda felt like a virgin again, waiting for the first injection of male flesh into her innocent vagina. She caught her breath as it nudged itself into a position ready for penetration.

But Charles paused to savour that exquisite moment when his manhood would begin its journey into sheer, unbridled ecstacy. Then he slowly allowed the thick shaft to part the flanking lips of flesh, and sink into the delicious softness of a warm, sopping female pocket, designed for this specific act. It was heavenly.

He whispered to her how he felt it a privilege and great honour to be entering her mystery, a favour many men would pay dearly for. She was the most sought after woman in the city since her arrival - all who met her lusted after her, but only he had been allowed to experience the joy of entering her paradise. She had a superb, perfect body, beautiful breasts, and so on. He had never felt so delighted with any woman.

Men say many things in the heat of love. Charles promised that he would adore he for evermore, with undying passion. He was never lost for complementary words of love and tenderness throughout the whole act of love. His ejaculation, when it finally came, was greeted with whimpers of delight and joy by Amanda. So much so, that she rose to an shuddering orgasm such as she had never before experienced. It was a revelation to her.

Lying half across the soft female body he had just ravished, his cock still embedded deep into the wet warmth, his face nuzzling the back of the exquisitely perfumed neck, Charles was most reluctant to leave. So delightful had the encounter been for him, that he longed to repeat the wonderful event. But it was time for him to leave quietly by the servants' back entrance.

Slipping back into his clothes, he bent over the reclining figure to kiss the cheeks of the bottom that had so recently cushioned his thrusting loins, before sliding silently out of the door to return to his car, parked in the side road by the back garden gate.

Meantime, after relishing a small brandy, Derek had silently mounted the staircase, slowly turned the handle of the door Rachel had pointed out to him, and slipped into the dressing room, dimly lit by a nightlight. To his right was an open door leading into the dark bedroom, from where he could hear the soft sound of whimpering.

Quickly shedding his clothes, Derek approached the bed. The hub of his lustful ambition lay with her back to him, quietly sighing and weeping. Her shoulders trembled and quivered with emotion.

Lifting the edge of the coverlet, he slid in beside her and placed an arm over her warm body. Although it stiffened slightly, there was no other reaction. He was emboldened to rest his hand on the beast, caressing the swelling gently, which was pushed away brusquely. But not too firmly, he thought.

After a few seconds, he tried again, whilst pushing the hardness of his manhood against the delicious buttocks. There was no resistance. He quietly stroked the cheeks of her bottom, whilst toying with the nipple of her right breast.

The sobbing slowly turned into a relaxing sigh. He felt the buttocks gently press against him. Having pulled up the hem of the silk nightie as far as he could, to lay bare the thighs and glorious cheeks of her bottom, he pushed a tentative finger into the hairy gash of her labia. It was pleasantly hot and wet. As the thighs parted a little for him, he slid the finger in and out to feel the lubrication.

The lady's hand reached behind her to grope for the stiff shaft of manhood pressing into her. Finding the throbbing object, Rachel grasped it lightly, drawing it to the entrance of her mystery. Although Derek was surprised at the eagerness of the lady to be penetrated, he allowed the head to be inserted in the unique opening nature had made for it, and, relishing every second, he slid the shaft deep into the honeyed flesh.

Rachel squirmed and moaned with joy as she felt the object of every woman's desire enter the secret fleshy folds of her body. Already, she felt the start of an orgasm stirring in her loins.

As he made delicious love to her, Derek whispered his undying love in her. He swore he worshiped her, and would gladly marry her had she been single, and remain devoted for life to the most wonderful, delightful woman in the whole world. We women all know the kind of rash promises men make when they are deeply engrossed in the act of fornication. And we all want to believe them, poor dears.

When the lovers had explored every act lovers are capable of, taking supreme pleasure in each other's body, and Derek had filled Rachel with the copious seed of his loins for the second time, whilst she had wallowed in a sea of unbridled lust and several sweet orgasms, the time came for the rapture to end. They heard the squeal of car-tyres come to a halt in the gravel of the driveway by the front door.

Derek jumped quickly out of bed, giving his partner a deep kiss, before rushing into the dressing room to dress quickly and slip quietly into the rear passage, down the servants staircase and out of the back door. Rachel had thoughtfully let him have the key to the side gate. His car was parked a little further up the road beyond the main gate. 

He was quickly followed from Amanda's bedroom by Rachel who scurried into her own from the servant's entrance, quickly changing nighties, gowns and ear-rings with Amanda, before ushering her out of her room back into her own bed, still warm and crumpled from the earlier sexual activity. She threw the cover over her trembling body and lay panting, waiting for her husband's return.

It was with great reluctance that Charles had to leave Amanda, now purring in Rachel's bed, some minutes before, but he was expected to return around this time. Not wishing to give his wife any grounds for unnecessary suspicion, he deliberately pulled up sharp before the house so that his arrival would be noticed. Charles climbed the stairs to his bedroom, pausing to glance down the corridor to where he had ravished the handsome Rachel, who even now, he thought, would be remembering their encounter with fondness.

He would certainly repeat the event if the opportunity arose. In fact he would like to do so at this minute, but his wife would be anxiously waiting for him.

After undressing, hanging his clothes, donning pyjamas, he slid into bed beside wife. She stirred and murmured sleepily, turning her back to him. He caught the whiff of Belinda's magic perfume, still lingering in his nostrils. But the memory stirred in his loins and his erection started to grow yet again. He would imagine he was still screwing Rachel.

He caressed his wife's body softly for some moments, reliving the moments of his earlier encounter, whilst the penis assumed its fullest stretch. Raising the back hem of her nightie, his fingers found the object of his carnal desire, marvelling at its sloppiness before inserting his manhood deep inside her.

Amanda relaxed with a happy sigh, allowing herself to be thoroughly ravished once more, as her husband's hard cock screwed her quietly for quite some time before achieving a second coming.

The following day, being Sunday, the four arranged to meet in the local cocktail bar for drinks and a light lunch before taking a trip on the river to show Rachel the latest sights. Whilst Charles and Amanda were parking the car, Rachel went into the cocktail lounge to be greeted by Derek.

'Considering your nocturnal activities,' he teased her, 'I'm surprised at the brightness of your eye.'

'Oh, my dear sir,' she replied, 'I slept a sleep of joy and replenishment.'

'Well, my incomparable Rachel, how shall I repay you the favour?

'Oh, don't trouble yourself about that. Virtue is its own reward. There's a pleasure in doing a good turn for someone, which repays itself. I know it's not the done thing to inquire into another's affairs, but I am curious to know if you achieved the satisfaction you hoped for last night?'

Derek smiled. 'A thousand times, I can assure you.'

Rachel laughed. 'I'll never believe that. I suppose the lady was likewise ... er ... requited?'

'She was so transported that she never spoke a word. Sighs and moans announced her delight, though. Her body responded eagerly to my advances. But I could have wished she sighed for me rather than Loveless.

'In the dark, Derek, who cares? But look where she comes, hanging on her husband with a smile on her face like a cat that's got the cream.'

'Perhaps she has.'

'Do you think so?' enquired Rachel.

'Are you jealous?' he asked.

'Are you?'

Before he could reply, Charles came to join them.

'Cousin Rachel, we have just had an invitation - all four of us - to drinks this evening to welcome back one of our friends from their honeymoon.'

'Now, that's a strange coincidence,' said Rachel, 'for I have a good mind to become a bride myself.'

Amanda laughed. 'Congratulations, darling, but first you need someone to propose.'

'Oh, but Amanda, I have already had an offer. It was made last night.'

Charles looked over his shoulder with some discomfort. Surely, he thought, she's not about to denounce me in front of my wife.

'Who's the fortunate groom to be,' asked Derek?

'Why, you are, Derek.,'

'Me?' was the confused and spluttered response. 'How do you make that out?'

'Well, in the throes of passion, you swore you would make me your wife, if I were free to accept. Well, I am free to accept. And I do!'

'What?' stuttered an incoherent Derek.

'Accept,' Rachel repeated.

'Well, I'm very happy for you cousin. And I hope you'll be as happy as Charles and I, because last night, he also declared his undying love in the throes of passion. He swore he would adore me for evermore. Isn't that nice?'

'Wonderful,' cried Rachel.

Charles was the one to sputter now. 'Just a minute ...'

But Amanda stopped him. 'Now, surely your memory can't be that bad! Although I must confess, the second time was less passionate than the first.'

Charles stared at her in disbelief. But the facts were inescapable. And so embarrassing for him. 'Was it you in Rachel's bed? Was it you I ...?

'Screwed? Yes it was. And again in our own bed when you returned home late.'

The penny was also dropping with Derek. 'And was it you Rachel, having persuaded me to ... but I thought...'

Rachel laughed. 'I know you did. But the less said, soonest mended. For Charles here can really trust his wife ... even with you.

Charles and Derek looked at each other in obvious discomfort. Charles was aware that whilst he thought he was screwing Rachel, Derek thought he was screwing Amanda! He suddenly realised that he didn't much like the idea of another man fucking his wife behind his back.

'Come on Derek,' Rachel insisted, 'I won't let you go back on your word. We'll call the banns and we'll settle down.'

Derek suddenly burst out laughing. 'Well, the joke's on us. You two are the best of women! Schemers the lot of you.'

'We but learn the art of deception from our menfolk.'

'Well, Charles,' added Derek, 'it was only a minor relapse on all our parts.'

Charles took Amanda in his arms. 'I swear I shall never deceive you again. Besides, you make a wonderful mistress - in matters of sex, better than a wife - so let's keep it that way.'

'Ho, ho!' jeered Rachel.

But Amanda discovered the trick of finding out what the name of the perfume was, used by the women her husband found most attractive, and bought some! She even got a range of different night clothes, so that Charles would think he was making love to other women. She would continue with the role of mistress.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 12



And Rachel made sure that Derek's sex life was varied and interesting. And they all lived happily ever after.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 13



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities. The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them.

Chapter Thirteen. Enid's Fantasy

Enid's morning story of the cousins deceiving their partners by swapping beds, had amused the guests, though Emma did say that it reminded her of the play by Vanbrugh, called 'The Relapse.' 

'Ah, but in the play the men get their woman. In my story, the women get their man!'

'True,' Emma conceded. 'A great story, though, either way!'

The guests had been invited to dress for lunch in Eastern robes and turbans, as members of a Sultan's household. The ladies were to regard themselves as concubines in the Sultan's harem, the men as slaves or eunuchs. The dining room windows had been transformed with drapes of coloured silks festooned with heavy tassels, giving the appearance of a large tent.

The table had been removed, in its place a large board, set some eighteen inches from the floor, was covered with a golden damask cloth. Large coloured cushions were spread on the floor around the board. On it were large bowls of fruit of every kind, cold meats, salads of several descriptions spiced with herbs. Large metal finger bowls were set down the centre of the table, with silver goblets filled with wine, whilst large silver jugs full of various wines were on side tables. Places were set with plates, forks and large napkins.

Before the meal, the guests were offered glasses of a strong, sweet liqueur to freshen their appetites. It was received with smiles and appreciative murmurs. A deep reverberating gong sounded to summon the guests to take their places at the table. Julie announced that Bill was take the place of the Sultan, and sit at the head of the table.

Bill made a royal entrance followed by Emma as his Sultana, to sit on his right hand. They approached the head of the table to sit on the cushions. A signal for the guests to follow suit. Anne and Mary, dressed in long diaphanous dresses which did little to hide their heavy breasts, with belts round the waist, their hair hanging loose over their shoulders, took the parts of wine maidens, making sure that the goblets of each guest was never empty.

The wine maidens stood at wine tables set behind the Sultan, moving to the guests whose goblets required replenishing. As they leaned over to fill the goblets, their full, heavy breasts hung from their bodies, swaying tantalisingly beneath the almost transparent fabric. The rub of the silk against their nipples kept them aroused and stiff.

As the meal was coming to its end, strong Oriental coffee was handed out. Julie took Enid by the hand, helping her to her feet.

She turned to the Sultan. 'Today, O Great One, is a special surprise for your charming concubine, Enid. With your permission O Great One.' Julie bowed. 'Come with me, Enid, for you shall enjoy the excitement of your dreams.'

The giggling Enid was escorted into the lounge area where Julie had already arranged a selection of locks and chains.

'I'm to put you in chains, Enid, and return you to the Sultan as his slave. There you are to receive your reward.' 

Enid's eyes lit up. 'How did you know about my fantasy, Julie?'

'Let's just say a little bird told me,' Julie replied as she fastened Enid's wrists behind her back. Leg irons were fastened round the ankles connected with a length of chain.

More chains were wound around her waist and, finally, a blindfold was placed over her face and a gag over her mouth. When the shackling was complete, Enid was escorted back into the dining room and left standing in a silence.

A voice suddenly boomed out. 'O evil one! Thou hast been discovered fornicating with the Sultan's stable-man whilst watching one of his highness' white stallions at stud. You were caught at the moment of your orgasm, even as the stable man ejaculated copiously into your willing vulva.'

There were gasps of mock despair from the guests as the charges were made. Enid recognised the voice of Jake.

'The stable man was publicly castrated this morning before being beheaded for his miserable misdeeds. It is now your turn to be punished. Your nipples will be sliced off with my scimitar and your clitoris gouged out with my dagger. Then they will be thrown to the dogs. Do you plead for mercy? Are you ready for your penance?'

Enid held her head high. 'I do! I am!' she called in a loud, clear voice. The blindfold was suddenly snatched away from her face. The room was now lit by carefully placed coloured flood-lights complemented by several s spot-lamps, two focussed on her, throwing grotesque shadows on the walls and silk drapes.

The table and the food had been removed, the Sultan reclining on a low ottoman with the Sultana at his side, her right hand delving into his silk pants, casually caressing his genitals. Squatting at his feet, legs tucked beneath them, were three maidens in silver masks, displaying naked breasts, each maiden holding a golden goblet.

At the Sultan's left shoulder stood Jake, tall and proud, naked from the waist up apart from a fancy neck-band and turban. He wore baggy silk pants fastened round the ankles with red bands, and at his waist, a thick sash from which hung a curved scimitar on his right and a fancy dagger inset with jewels on his left. His feet were bare and, in his hands he held a parchment scroll.

Glancing round, Enid saw four other warriors, similarly dressed but with open blouse-like tops tucked into the waistband. In place of scimitars they wore leather batons. On the head of each warrior was a turban and a plain white cloth mask covering the whole face with the exception of eye slits and a breathing hole. They held long whips.

Jake rolled up the scroll before placing it on a small circular marble table at his side. At a gesture from the Sultan, the four warriors flicked their whips with menacing loud cracks. Enid felt herself grabbed from behind, her arms lifted high behind her back, making her head and shoulders bend forward.

A wide plank covered in red velvet was passed through her manacled wrists and ankle fetters. Before she realised what was happening, two women took hold of her thighs, tipping her backwards on the wide plank, her feet planted wide apart. The chains round her waist were removed noisily as Jake stepped forward to her.

Taking hold of her flimsy gown, he ripped it apart from top to bottom with one violent gesture. The torn remnants draped from her sides revealing her small palpitating breasts with their girlish pink nipples, now like hardened buds.

Jake took hold of the right nipple between finger and thumb, holding it away from the breast. His eyes shone with evil excitement. He took the scimitar in his other hand, threatening to slice off the nipple. Enid looked on in horror. For one dreadful moment she really thought he was going to do it!

'No!' she cried. 'I'll do anything you ask but please not that!' Jake smiled cruelly as he replaced his scimitar and released her nipple.

Enid shrieked again as Jake's powerful hands gripped her knickers and ripped them apart. Between her slender thighs, with their prominent thigh bones, the sparse covering of light brown hair was insufficient to hide the large clitoris pushing out from beneath it's hood. The small inner lips were pouting from between the meagre outer labia, glistening with her dew.

After contemplating her slim-lipped genitals for a few moments, Jake took his dagger and pointed it at the clitoris, chuckling in a sinister way. Running his middle finger upwards between the puffed lips, he scooped her juices onto the pad of his finger. After inspecting it he suddenly thrust his hand to her face. 'Lick, bitch!' he barked. 'Suck!'

Enid opened her mouth and took in the finger, wet with her own juices. Jake removed it and repeated the scooping action, this time with two fingers, presenting the sticky ooze to Enid's mouth again. 'Suck!' he ordered. And she did.

He stepped back gesturing to the three naked women. With an excited yelp, they scrambled to their feet and ran to the bound Enid. All three half-crouched, wiping two middle fingers through the lips of their own oozing genitals, before rubbing the slimy wetness over Enid's lips and into her mouth.

'Since you are so fond of penis, you shall have a large one. Pushed fully inside you!' barked Jake as the three women continued to wipe her face and lips with their sticky secretions.

'Look!' Jake moved away to the side of Enid's head. Enid's mind whirled. From her angle of forty-five degrees she saw Mary walk forward, holding a silver salver on which was laid a long, thick, dark-purple baton, one end chisel-shaped, the other encased in a large hairy sack, with purple stains which looked for all the world like blood. She went cold as she realised what it was supposed to be and what they intended doing with it!

'Before this hardened pizzle is inserted into your wanton vagina, until it is completely submerged, you are to be whipped unless you repay your sexual transgression by offering homage to my stiff pizzle!

Jake reached into his baggy trousers. He drew out his big, hard penis. Taking Enid's head in his hands, he jerked it towards his groin.

Enid groaned hungrily. 'Give it to me! Let me have it!' She was ablaze with the fire of lust.

'Suck!' he ordered, thrusting his penis at her face. Enid opened her mouth, pressing her face into Jake's groin, her hot tongue lapping at the shaft as it slid over her soft palate to the back of her throat. Enid was no stranger to fellatio. She had practised the art of deep throat until she was able to take a fully erect penis into her throat without discomfort.

When manipulated in this way by Enid's insatiable tongue, no man was able to with-hold his climax for long. Two of the naked women transferred their attention to her girlish nipples, teasing them with nibbling teeth and massaging tongue.

The third naked woman took a close interest in Enid's genitals, pulling the lips apart to examine the pink folds of wet flesh. She flicked her fore-finger over the prominent clitoris, rolling it between her thumb and second finger, sending Enid into shivers of rapture.

This stimulation of her nerve centre spurred her on to extra effort in exciting Jake's large shaft, her head bobbing back and forth with her tongue, lips inflaming his sensitive head until he could hold back no longer. With lurching hips, he was racked with muscular spasms until, a loud grunt he wrenched himself out of her mouth to aim profuse sprays of sperm into a goblet, held by Julie, to the maidens' gleeful squeals of delight.

Once Jake's ejaculation was finished, the goblet was presented to Enid's lips, the starchy-white contents slipping into her welcoming mouth, to be rolled around her gums and cheeks, relishing the taste and texture. Enid was a zealous sperm lover. The male seed, in all its varieties and tectures, fascinated her.

Delia's fingers - it was she who was the third masked woman - working on Enid's love bud, had so provoked her sexual lust that the captive was fast reaching her orgasm. 

Enid swallowed the precious sperm, blurting out 'Fuck me! Please! I want a hot prick in me!'

She whimpered and squirmed until a tight scream choked in her throat as the spring of frustration coiled tighter and tighter inside her groin.

Then, with a piercing screech, her orgasm exploded, releasing the tension in her loins. Her legs thrashed in their chains, her hips bucked and twisted until her agonized cries finally subsided and she fell back on the supporting plank, panting. The spectacle of Enid's orgasm was awe-inspiring! It never failed to impress the onlookers with its sheer animal intensity. There was a ripple of applause from the ottoman as the Sultan and his lady clapped and smiled in appreciation of her performance.

'And now,' Jake growled at her, 'before the final humiliation, you will be violated by each of the warriors as punishment for your misdeeds.'

And the first masked warrior stepped forward, handed his whip to Anne, taking hold of tyhe sturdy baton from his waistband. Enid look on is disbelief. Surely he wouldn't thrust that thick shaft into her soft vagina! The warrior presented it to the portals of her passage. She closed her eyes.

The warrior opened his trousers to present his erect penis, foreskin already retracted. Two other warriors approached Enid on either side, lifting her hips from the plank to allow the first to plunge his sturdy weapon between the small puffed folds of her vulva, to its deepest extent. This brought a cry of shock from the captive, believing she was penetrated by the baton. She squirmed her hips, but was firmly held by the two strong warriors as their colleague lunged into her hard and furiously.

Enid rolled her hips with hunger, begging for more with a demanding shout. 'Fill me to the brim! Give me your cock! All you've got! Give it to me!'

It wasn't long before the clenched muscles in the warrior's buttocks showed him to be reaching his peak. A grunt announced his climax, withdrawing from her as his juices spluttered into the wine goblet held by Julie. Having had much practice, Julie was expert in catching the jets of sperm, though the dribbling ejaculation was easier to catch.

The warrior turned to the Sultana to display his still erect shaft, semen leaking from the head, bowing his head in salutation. She applauded him with a smile. Anne knelt before him, taking his softening penis in her mouth, to lick it clean of sperm before returning his whip to him.

Meantime, Enid was lifted bodily to allow the plank to be withdrawn from behind her back before being turned over roughly by the arms of four men. Two women held her ankles up so that her thighs parted to expose her taught buttocks, puckered rear entrance and gaping vulva. Scented oil was dribbled down the crease between her buttocks by one of the maidens as, suspended by strong arms, Enid was swung gently back and forth.

Another warrior stepped in to her, pulled out his solid staff to present it to her proffered gaping entrance. As Enid was swung towards him, with one thrust he embedded his shaft deep inside her anus. She yelped with its force, swinging gently back and forth on the solid phallus. Before the warrior reached his climax, Enid's body started to tremble and shake.

'Yes! Yes, yes!' she gasped, crying out in the joy of another triumphant orgasm. As she subsided she was allowed to hang still until the warrior's buttocks began to quiver and jerk as he pulled away to spurt his offering into the wine goblet.

As he, in his turn, posed his proud weapon to the Sultana, Anne greedily sucking away the juices, a high bar stool was brought to the performers. Enid was rearranged into a sitting position on the stool, tipped backwards, supported by strong arms, with her legs pulled up high and wide.

A third masked warrior came up to Enid holding his jutting erection. Without preliminaries, he lunged straight into Enid's unprotected, defenceless orifice. At the same time, Julie, now fully aroused, straddled Enid's head, rubbing her yearning cunt over Enid's nose and mouth as the warrior fucked her.

She moaned with elation as his cock flogged her poor vagina with unremitting vigour, his testicles slapping her small buttocks with each thrust, urged on by the other onlookers. Enid wept and whimpered. With her body submitting to the battering it was taking, she licked furiously at the vaginal lips of Julie, now whooping with jubilation.

The warrior was equally vocal, grunting and groaning with each thrust until his rhythm was broken by convulsive lunges. Just in time, he withdrew from the swollen vulva, to erupt with several jets of thick sperm, deftly caught in the goblet by Julie, sparking off yet another orgasm in Enid's tormented body.

Julie gave a final yell of victory. She and Robert had jointly defiled the millionaire wife of a cabinet minister! She felt terrific satisfaction at watching the smooth bodies of the rich and famous being violated and treated with disdain. Fucking, she thought, was a great leveller. Queens and kitchen maids were no different when it came to being fucked. And there was more to come for Enid.

The fourth warrior was already standing in preparation. As soon as his colleague had withdraw to display his weapon to the Sultana, before presenting it to Anne to be cleansed, the fourth warrior took his place at Enid's buttocks, sliding his rigid column into the warm, soft interior, still quivering with orgasmic release. He penetrated her impatiently and ruthlessly, first with slow then fast pounding stokes, now deep, now shallow.

Enid was in a trance of sheer sexual delight. The warrior's breathing became heavier and more erratic until, eventually, he ejected his sperm into the waiting goblet.

'Now!' Jake barked at the tray carriers as the warrior payed his respects to the Sultana.

Two warriors replaced the plank through Enid's chains, tipping it backwards so that it was necessary for Enid to support herself with open legs planted below her. Her well-used vulva was leaking, her fair pubic hair tousled and wet.

The two maidens moved forward with the salver between Enid's legs as she looked down at the dismembered penis. It no longer mattered to her numbed brain that this object was enormous. She was intoxicated by the voluptuous feeling in her body. They laid the tray on the floor.

Mary took up the dark purple object attached to the large, stained, hairy sac, holding it high in front of her ceremoniously, where it was silhouetted dramatically in the spot lights. A hush of expectation descended on the harem. In complete silence, Anne took up a small stone jar, pouring the contents over the top of the object. A thick white cream dribbled down the shaft.

The awesome object was lowered until it's head was placed against the entrance of the fleshy vulva. Enid couldn't believe that they were going to penetrate her with that terrible weapon. But Anne on one side and Delia on the other, pressed their fingers into the tops of her thighs pulling them apart to open up wide the thin entrance of Enid's vulva.

'No!' Enid screamed suddenly, throwing her head back. 'No!' She screwed her eyes tight shut, jaw open. With great glee and a certain amount of malevolence, Julie poured the contents of the goblet into Enid's open mouth. It gargled in her throat, half choking as she frantically tried to swallow it. Julie laughed to see Enid's puny body being violated with such savagery.

'Yes' Jake ordered loudly. Mary began pushing the object into the orifice.

Enid's scream strangled in her sperm-infested throat as her vaginal muscles took a grip on the thick shaft. It felt tight and inflated, stretching every fold of her vagina, finding every crevice between them, filling her with a supreme feeling of lust. Moaning with her sensuality she strained her thighs as wide as she could whilst Mary finally inserted the full length of the pizzle into the expanded vulva. Enid felt brimming over with prick.

'Fuck me, please! Give me all if it! Fuck me with it!' she sobbed, writhing her thighs on the huge inserted object. 'Split me open with it!'




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 13



After holding it there for a few moments, Mary slowly withdrew most of its length before thrusting it back into her depths, to a loud wail of anguish from Enid. The thrusting became stronger and faster, each thrust expelling the breath from her body with a harsh moan, getting shriller with each thrust, until she was screaming uncontrollably. Her thighs trembled and jerked with growing convulsions of delirium. Her tension spiralled, driving her wild with lust, her hips shaking violently.

When it finally came, the orgasm shattered through her entire body. Again and again and again! A long, noisy wail escaped her throat as a ripple of orgasms crashed over her, each one, it seemed, bigger than the previous one. Mary continued to crush the huge staff in and out of Enid with harsh thrusts until the prisoner began to subside slowly, with trembling limbs and shaking muscles. Mary slowly withdrew the shaft, turned to the Sultana, holding it up for her to see before placing it back on the salver.

There was a burst of applause as Enid collapsed completely exhausted on the plank. Though her body shook and trembled uncontrollably, it glowed with contentment inside. She had never felt so satiated. The busy life of a government minister coupled with her own hectic business life, left Enid and Laurie with little time for sex. These special sex breaks allowed them time to catchup on their passion. Dildos and vibrators kept her satisfied between the breaks.

Laurie was always aroused at the sight of his wife being screwed and shagged. Raped even! As he watched the action eagerly, he had one arm round Anne's plump waist whilst the other kneaded her pliant full breasts. Anne returned his interest by stroking his semi-stiff cock, already displaying its distinct bend.

Emma was impressed by the sheer realism of the action. 'I think you should all form an acting company. You're so totally convincing!' 

The warriors gently lifted the plank carrying Enid from the room into the lounge. There, they removed the plank whilst Julie unfastened the irons and locks to remove them from her limbs. A large glass of brandy was offered to the bruised lady. She sipped it gratefully, unable to speak after the stunning experience.

Julie showed her the make-believe pizzle. It was a length of thick, continental salami sausage encased in a thin red latex tube, attached to the bag they had used to deceive Delia the previous day.

'It looked so real in the theatrical lighting!' Enid exclaimed, still panting. 'And it felt real, as well! Superb! I never thought you'd get it in! I must review my dildos when I get home!'

'Now, it's my turn,' Julie explained whilst draping herself with several fine gauze silks and a head-band of gem encrusted gold. At least, that was the impression it gave to Enid. 'Come!'

Enid heard oriental music playing in the dining room as Julie opened the door. Once inside the room, Julie went into an oriental belly-dance routine. She performed the dance of the seven veils in a most evocative and sexy manner whilst the guests watched in complete silence and admiration.

She finally stood triumphant before the Sultan, arms outstretched, legs wide apart, hips thrust forward and shoulders back. Her luscious breasts were pushed forward proudly, glistening with perspiration. Her flat belly was held in, emphasising the tuft on her love-mound. She loved displaying her superb body. The eunuchs were all in a state of arousal, with one of them, George, sporting a full erection again.

'That eunuch must be punished!' the Sultana cried with a dramatic pointing gesture. 'He dares to show his stiffened pizzle before the Sultana.'

Two other eunuchs pinned his arms behind him whilst the maidens knelt in front of him, caressing his thighs and bottom, squeezing his testicles and running palms lightly down the shaft. He was made to sit on a stool when the Sultana came to him with a bowl of honey, dribbling it over the head of his erection. The maidens squealed with delight, starting to rub the sweet, sticky coating over his genitals and into his pubic hair. Julie took him in her mouth, licking the honeyed shaft like a lollipop, whilst the others caressed his torso and nipples with sticky fingers, nibbling his ears and chin. As his loins began to twitch and jerk, Julie stopped her stimulation until the twitching died down.

She repeated her teasing again and again until George was crying out in frustration. His whole body was alive with jerks and trembling. Julie paused again, looking defiantly at George. His whole body was on fire. Finally, Julie took the erection in her hand and pumped it fast until, with a heaving thrust of relief, his milky offering gushed into Julie's palm. She blended it with the honey, to the delight of the maidens, taking turns to lick the shaft clean. 

'My chief guard will now pleasure Salome for our entertainment,' the Sultan ordered.

The company settled down in couples in the cushions with their drinks to begin fondling each other's bodies.

Jake then approached Julie, now reclining on a divan, knelt before her and pulled apart her white thighs, displaying her open voluptuous vulva lips, heavy with her dew. His large brown shaft was positioned at her opening, then slowly thrust its way into her warm depths. A few lunges drove it deep into her.

Julie wrapped her legs round Jake's back as he took her in his arms and lifted her onto his groin. She put her arms round his broad back as Jake stood, Julie impaled on his weapon, and walked round the room. The guests looked closely at Julie's soft, silky lips wrapped round the dark shaft as she hoisted her groin from him, and dropped onto him, again and again.

Eventually, Jake took her to an arm chair, draped her over the arm and proceeded to screw her hard and long. Perspiration trickled down his face and chest, each thrust driving the air from Julie's lungs with a loud gasp. His movement became more irregular and agitated. The muscles in his thighs and belly rippled and trembled. Breathing became laboured until, with a roar he plunged violently at Julie, withdrawing quickly to show his hard cock spouting his sperm over her belly.

The guests were aroused at the sight. Lips kissed nipples and fingers casually fondled genitals, exploring their secret folds. When Julie and Jake finally relaxed, they found the rest of the company in various stages of sex play. Sitting with fresh cups of coffee, they watched with interest as the women aroused the men.

One by one, the pricks stiffened, raising their heads with curiosity. Emma was now sufficiently relaxed with the others to have Bill make love to her in their company. He muttered words of unending devotion into her willing ear, completely oblivious to others, as he slid his stiff rod smoothly in and out of her. One couple after another embraced together, combining their bodies in the beautiful act of fornication, heaving and murmuring with delight and elation.

Mary was straddled over George, her gorgeous heavy bottom slowly heaving up and down, whilst Laurie's banana-shaped cock was sunk deep in the hairy forest between Anne's ample thighs which were clamped round his waist. Martin was laying between Gertie's long elegant tanned legs, thrusting in and out of her, nibbling her luscious breasts, to her moans of delirium.

Sitting with his back against the wall, Robert's arms were wrapped round Delia supporting her weight. She was squatted on his lap, knees bent, her fat leaking labia bobbing up and down, her hair swaying to the rhythm, her superb soft breasts swinging against his chest.

Not to be outdone, Susan and Enid stood looked at each other in silence for a moment. With a look of lust in her eyes, Susan stepped slowly towards Enid. She pushed aside the front of the silk robe to disclose Enid's small rounded breasts with their small perky nipples. Almost like a girl's, Susan thought, as she slowly encircled Enid's narrow waist, pulling her towards her own warm naked body. Their soft breasts met in a warm embrace.

Still looking into Susan's gleaming eyes, Enid wrapped her hands around the plump buttocks, lifting the slightly sagging cheeks in the palms of her hands before stroking them tenderly. Eyes closed as their lips met in a long tender kiss.

Susan began fondling Enid's left breast, moving her mouth to kiss her neck and nibble her ears hungrily and noisily, whilst her other hand caressed her body, snaking over Enid's flat belly, through the sparse fine fleece covering her mound, closing in on the large clitoris, rubbing it lightly with the pads of her two middle fingers. She felt Enid's loins jolt at the touch.

Joining in the intimate body probing, Enid slipped her hand between Susan's plump buttocks, to search for the sloppy flesh between her naked thighs. With hair removed from her vulva, Susan's swollen chubby labia were pliant and smooth, slippery with vaginal secretions. She lowered her face to the tubular breasts to take a long, stiff nipple between her lips, suckling and chewing it.

With buckling knees, the couple sank to the floor, Susan pushing Enid onto her back, throwing her thighs over Enid's face for her vulva to engage with Enid's mouth. Susan's thin lips sucked the reddish-brown fold of flesh into her mouth, a stiffened tongue darting between the soft coral-pink buds of flesh, into the exposed vagina, exploring the peaks and valleys of the fascinating centre of her friend''s feminine secret.

Susan placed her thumbs on either side of Enid's vulva, drawing them apart to expose the thin ridges of flesh that stretched down from either side of her clitoral hood, until they met below the small buds of flesh, framing the puckered opening to her mysterious passage. Her attention was drawn to the large clitoris. It was very pale and resembled the head of a miniature cock though without the urethra, which she could see below it.

Fastening her lips onto the little cock, licking and munching lightly, Susan felt the loins reacting to the provocation. She licked and bit the whole vulva. The valley between the outer and inner lips, the labia themselves, pushing her tongue as far as she could into the vagina. She was hungry for her friend's genitals.

Such effusive attention could only lead to the inevitable build up of excitement and bliss in their loins. Licking and nibbling Susan's vulva in return, Enid felt the ripples of an orgasm flutter up from her legs through her loins, peaking in an explosive release of sheer ecstatic agony. Though not a full female ejaculator, a light gush of juices splashed Susan's lips, as Enid screamed with joy.

Susan responded with her own orgasm, grinding her vulva against her friend's mouth and nose. Though not as dramatic as Enid's, it was a wonderful release. She continued to kiss her friends vulva lightly, as both simmered down. It had been an afternoon of almost endless orgasms for Enid. Really terrific!

Eventually, to sounds of squeals and sighs, loud grunts of effort, the other couples achieved relief one after the other until all lay in the arms of their partner, happy and satisfied.

After such a orgy of orgasms and ejaculations, a quiet rest before dinner was called for. And another tale to look forward to afterwards - a tale of incest and murder in the aristocratic orgy!



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 14



THE CHESTERBURY TALES.

It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them.

Chapter Fourteen. The Viscount's Tale. Mistaken identity.

After an exhausting afternoon of nonstop copulation, following Enid's group sex in the Sultan's harem, the guests had rested and showered before dinner. They assembled as usual at the sound of the dinner gong, and during cocktails, Emma asked Enid about her story of the cousins trick on their men.

'Bill and I were a bit confused about the logistics of your tale. One minute Charles is screwing his wife in her cousin's bed and the next he's screeching up the drive in his car. Er ... how?'

'Perhaps you missed a bit, or perhaps I didn't make it clear. After his romp with his wife, believing her to be cousin Rachel, he bemoaned the fact that it was time for him to leave her in order to arrive home 'officially'. So, whilst Derek was still screwing cousin Rachel in the next room believing her to be Charles' wife, Charles dressed quickly, and slipped out by the servant's entrance. It only took a couple of minutes to reach his car parked by the back gate and drive round to the front arriving home on time.'

'Ah! So where was it he said he had been?'

'Nowhere really. Having a business drink.'

'So it was a quickie, then?'

'Not necessarily. Don't forget, he was already waiting in the dark in Rachel's room when his wife came in, and got down to some serious screwing, whilst Derek was still treating himself to a brandy before his leisurely screw with Rachel. Charles was well ahead of the game!'

'Well,' Julie butted in, 'Bill has volunteered to tell the next tale, after dinner, about a famous actress who moved around in aristocratic circles.' 

Bill was twenty-eight. His full name was William George Anthony Joseph Bradstone, the 6th Viscount Baring of Landry. Not surprisingly, he was known to all his friends as Bill! He succeeded to the title when his father was killed in a plane crash two years earlier. He was a well-built 5'10" with fine fair hair, which covered much of his body from neck to toe. It was a hereditary characteristic.

He was a freelance photographer and in his work, came across many beautiful women which turned him on, but professional etiquette prevented him from taking advantage of his position. Look but don't touch! Many of the models would, however, have been delighted to be Viscountess Baring!

He settled down on a settee with Emma beside him and told this tale.

This is the tale of an actress who is very famous both here and in the States, and who got away with murder! I shall call her Alice because she still has living descendants who might take unkindly to the story I am about to tell if her real name became known. The story was told to me by an old respected knight of the theatre who shall also remain nameless, who had unwittingly stumbled on Alice's diary. The revelations in it would make a fortune if published, he had said.

She was born Alice Beaver in the County of Cheshire. When she was barely ten years old, it seems, Alice's father deserted the family home for another, very beautiful, woman. An actress. The little girl had idolised her father and was at her happiest when he would take her on his knee before her bed time and tell her stories of adventure and fairies. When returning from visits to other parts of the country, he would return with presents for her, and recount tales of the travellers he had met.

Alice was aware of disagreements between her parents, but was distraught when her idol left them because, not unnaturally, she believed that he had abandoned her. Indeed, she was encouraged to think so. She thought that she herself must have been very naughty in some way for him to have left her, though she had no idea what it was she could have done.

Alice wept and grieved bitterly and her maternal grandmother, who was a dominant matriarch, refused to allow her father any contact with Alice. His letters and presents to her were intercepted and destroyed before Alice was aware of them.

This was helped by the fact that when he left home, the father moved away to make his fortune, as they say in adventure stories, whilst she was brought up to distrust men, all of whom are inherently selfish and cruel, and to despise her father in particular who had, she was told, left them almost penniless. Alice was not to know, of course, that her maternal grandmother had been seduced, became pregnant, and was obliged to marry the father, when but a girl of nineteen.

No other course of action was possible in those days, of course, and in some ways her grandmother was fortunate that the young man was willing to accept the child as his own and not to disown the woman, as happened all too frequently. To society, a single woman with child was treated as nothing better than a slut. Indeed, there was a time when she would have been beaten and placed in the stocks.

The ambition of Alice's grandmother, which had been to become a dancer in the ballet was consequently ruined, and, on top of that, the eventual birth of Alice's mother had left her with a damaged heart. She bore her affliction with great fortitude and a certain amount of enjoyment, but left no doubt about her feelings towards her husband and her general opinion of all men.

Her husband was an employee with a coaching company, and, being a thoughtful man and ever wishing to please his wife, in spite of her lack of feeling for him, Alice's grandfather died of heart failure when he was but forty-eight.

So, Alice grew up in a stern matriarchal society and came to be systematically brainwashed about the evil ways of the male. She was taught to hate her father with a burning passion, he whom she once adored, and was continuously instructed in the ways of revenge on the male sex. Her grandmother tutored her never to contact her father at any time, and to refuse any attempt by him to contact her in the future.

During these instructive years, money was not plentiful, but they managed to keep head above water. Her grandmother received a sum of money from a deceased relative and used it to send Alice to Madame Thorpe for elocution lessons. This lady claimed to have taught many of the famous stage actors and actresses of the day, and it was probably true, because Madame Thorpe ultimately found Alice a place in a respectable touring theatre company.

It was a hard struggle at first, and Alice had to learn to be unscrupulous and to look after herself by every means. Nature had endowed her with plump, prominent genitals, with generous lips and strong internal muscles to clutch its visitors. She had practised hard on various objects, and had become an expert at the art of seducing both men and women.

By planning and snaring people of influence in the theatre with her charm, she found champions to look after her interests and, eventually, reached the London stage where she made a big hit in a revival of a play by Mr Oscar Wilde. From there on, her future was assured and her liaisons more selective. She had taken the stage name of Alice Winsford, from a local town where she was brought up, and was now able to provide a comfortable house for her ailing mother and herself in the fashionable part of Pimlico.

By this time, her grandmother's sick heart had finally bowed to the inevitable, and she had been laid to rest at the age of seventy-two, having teetered on the brink of the grave for fifty years! Alice was now in great demand by society and was invited to private parties of the famous, and even some infamous, top-ranking aristocracy! She had succeeded in seducing, and having affairs with, two very rich patrons, men of property and political influence, both of whom had repaid her handsomely in return for her discretion and silence.

During all this time, however, in public life she kept her admirers at bay and gained a reputation for being haughty with men. It was even hinted that she preferred the company of women in her bed. She had, indeed, chosen a maid who was both able and willing to give her the physical satisfaction which her body frequently demanded, but she always welcomed a stiff cock of her choice, when the proper upper-class opportunity arose.

Alice's grandmother's plans worked perfectly in that Alice grew up to be self-sufficient and to wilfully use men entirely for her own spiteful ends. If she could humiliate them in some way at the same time, all the better. She never saw nor heard from her father ever again. That is, until in her mid-thirties when, to her astonishment, she saw him across the drawing room at Lady Banisher's end of season ball.

Alice was being escorted on that particular evening by the Hon. Arthur Frobisher, MP, who was a Parliamentary Under Secretary of State in the Commonwealth Office and one of society's most eligible bachelors. Arthur was the second son of a baronet, and was very fond of Alice. He had already hinted to her the possibility of a marriage contract between them, but Alice had been decidedly cool, though as gracious as ever, at the idea.

There was no doubt that Alice was a very attractive woman, though not a great beauty in the generally accepted sense. Her nose was too big for a start, and her eyes rather too wide apart. Her bosom was a little on the small side for what society usually required of the body beautiful, but, being an actress of repute, she was an expert at make-up and knew precisely how to make the most of her natural charms and how to dress to advantage.

She had had her hair - all her hair - re-coloured a burnished copper colour and was striking enough in her deportment to turn the heads of the young society stags. Alice was never punctual for any social gathering; she preferred making an entrance when announced, which usually caused something of a stir. Her eventual arrival at Lady Banisher's on the arm of the Honourable Arthur Frobisher was no exception.

They were greeted by Lord and Lady Banisher and made their way down the grand staircase to many admiring looks from the guests. There they joined the two-hundred or so guests - Lady Banisher was a popular hostess and anyone who was anybody in the London social scene could not afford to be absent from one of her social occasions - and through the blue haze of cigar smoke over Arthur's shoulder who was listening sympathetically to the Duchess, gossiping away about other guests, beyond the mass of overheated, chattering guests, Alice clearly saw the face of her hated father.

Her heart missed a beat and her face flushed as she fluttered her fan in her initial alarm. Although clearly older than she remembered him from her only photograph of him, he still looked remarkably young in the glare of the chandeliers, but the strong, firm nose and blue eyes were unmistakably those she remembered. When she had recovered her composure by taking several deep breaths, she closed her fan and tapped it lightly on her companion's forearm.

'Tell me, Arthur, who is that gentleman over there talking to Lady Dorothy?' Arthur peered over the heads and shoulders of the guests and spotted the man Alice referred to.

'Ah! That's Sir Ronald Beaver.' So she was right! 'He was recently knighted for his help in restoring the Tory party to power. Now the member for Chester.' It was indeed her father! 'He made a very large sum of money by speculating on an improbable venture in South Africa but which, remarkably, came off making his fortune. That was before I joined the Commonwealth office, so I'm not sure of the details.'

Alice stared at her father with curiosity. He was still a very handsome figure and had clearly taken care of himself during the past twenty-three years. Alice was unsure whether or not he would recognise her but was fairly confident that he wouldn't recognise, in her sophisticated appearance, the little girl of nine years old he left behind all those years ago.

'Do you want to know him?' Arthur asked.

'No! Not really. Not at the moment, anyway. I thought I had seen him before somewhere, that's all.'

Alice wasn't anxious to confront him, not knowing how she should approach the man she most hated. She wanted some time to adjust to the new situation.

'You may have seen him before,' Arthur told her, 'although he has only this season joined the London social scene.'

It was at a weekend private party in the country given by Lady Dorothy where Alice and her father next came together. Alice was aware that he would be invited and had spoken to Lady Dorothy about him. This party was a very much smaller affair and it was well known that most of the guests would, at one time or another, after plentiful glasses of wine or spirits, be expected to remove all their clothes and, perhaps, indulge in games of an explicit sexual nature.

So it would be impossible for Alice and her father not to be introduced to each other. On this occasion Alice had chosen to be escorted by the older Earl of Studeley, a widower of great wealth, charm and dignity. Beneath his noble appearance, however, was a sensual man whose sexual excesses in his younger days were well-known amongst the upper classes.

Indeed, it was rumoured that his wife had been the unfortunate victim of one of his more extreme sexual perversions, the result of which had been carefully hushed up. The country parties of Lord and Lady Bowler were very informal, and the entertainment, which was usually of a bawdy nature, often led to illicit assignations between some of the guests.

That was the whole idea, of course, and the guests were chosen with great care for their free-thinking attitudes and their utter discretion and were mostly known to each other. Newcomers were introduced with caution, even after being championed by the hosts, until their confidentiality and complete prudence was approved.

At the reception for her guests on the first evening, Miss Alice Winsford and Edward, Earl of Studeley, were introduced to Sir Ronald Beaver. He was accompanied by a small, pretty lady whom he introduced as Gloria, claiming her to be his niece. Alice could not recollect having any cousin called Delia, or any other name for that matter, but she smiled calmly at Sir Ronald as their eyes met.

There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes as he took Alice's hand and bowed formally. 'I have much admired your performances, Miss Winsford, since coming to London, and congratulate you on your great beauty.' And more in the same vein of flattery. When she saw that her father didn't recognise her as his daughter, Alice relaxed and began to enjoy the chat. Her secret gave her a certain feeling of power over him.

He had certainly retained his charm and handsome features. He laughed easily and lightly. Alice was curious to know what had happened to the mistress he left his family for, but her good breeding prevented any enquiry of that sort.

'You have remained single, I understand, Miss Winsford. That must be a great disappointment to the young society girls, since it keeps the young men looking in your direction rather than theirs.'

Alice laughed. 'It is a great misfortune to be pursued by so many of the young men, Sir Roland. But not as great as the misfortune of being ignored by them.'

Sir Roland enjoyed her Wildean wit. Alice found she could quote many of Wilde's aphorisms without embarrassment, for if they were recognised she was thought clever enough to have remembered them, and, if not, clever enough to have thought of them. The effect was the same.

'One can always tell the married man, Sir Roland. A married man has no morals whatever. And hopes that his pretty companion lacks them too. Do you have any morals, Sir Roland?'

Her father chuckled. 'Now, why should a handsome woman like you wonder that?' he asked. 'Would you rather I had none?'

Alice fanned herself calmly. 'My dear Sir Roland, a lady's views on morals should be known only to herself and her maid. But I might be persuaded to reveal them to you in the right circumstances.'

'And what circumstances, pray, might they be, Miss Winsford?' Sir Roland enquired with a smile.

'Ah! If I knew that I should have no morals left!' she retorted. 'But what should I be doing here, at Lady Dorothy's, if I took morals seriously? Or you, Sir Roland for that matter.'

As the light chat went on, Alice had the ridiculous thought that it might be rather fun, and appropriate, to revenge herself on her father by seducing him and then to denounce him as a rapist. He was, after all, as good as a stranger to her, and an attractive one at that. But that would hardly be appropriate or even believed, at a weekend party such as this one.

She would need to think of another means of revenge. As they spoke, such a plan began to develop in her mind.

On the second evening, the guests were invited to attend the reception wearing only dressing gowns. But these dressing gowns were very elaborate affairs; more like fancy oriental robes of the most exquisite materials. Others were simple, but elegant. Eastern and Oriental influences were abundant in style and colouring.

The guests made sure that they still appeared at their finest and most elegant. Lady Dorothy wore a superbly ornate, embroidered silk satin dress of Japanese origin, with a short train, which accentuated her full white bosom without concealing too much of it and without any additional support.

Even her mother, the Dowager Duchess now in her early sixties, was dressed in a decorative decollete gown which accentuated the broad white expanse of her upper bosom. She was still a beautiful lady with plenty of life in her yet!

Alice, on the other hand was adorned in a simple white gown, flowing from the waist with a heavy ruche hem, a necking which plunged to her navel, and sufficiently diaphanous to allow the darker patches of nipples to be seen and the heart-shaped patch of hair below her belly, carefully shaped by her maid, to be tantalisingly discernable. It was designed to tease the men and, perhaps, excite one or two of the women.

The men looked mainly like rich sultans, some even sporting turbans. Others, however, chose to dress in richly embroidered Japanese kimonos and matching shoes. The assembly resembled the cast of a Verdi opera.

In the ballroom, a temporary stage had been erected at one end, and small tables surrounded by comfortable chairs were scattered around the room. Bottles of port for the men and carafes of wine for the ladies were placed on each table for consumption during the entertainment, to help release any inhibitions of the guests who were expected to enter into the spirit of the evening.

A music-hall entertainment was provided and the Chairman of the proceedings introduced a famous comedian, a popular ballad singer, scantily-dressed dancers and other entertainers.

The Chairman's introductions became progressively bawdy and the show ended with six otherwise nude ladies wearing large hats, white stockings held up with fancy garters, and shoes, being wooed by six lusty young men dressed only in straw hats, open blazers, transparent pouches to hold their genitals and prevent them from flapping about during the dance routine, short white socks and shoes, to the popular song 'Tell Me Pretty Maiden'. The choreography had managed to place the couples in sexually provocative positions to the amusement and appreciation of the whole audience.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 14



After the final curtain came down, the nude ladies appeared in the audience to tease the male guests, whilst the lusty young men, having discarded their pouches, came amongst the spectators to offer their stiff projections to the lady guests. Alice was amused as Edward nibbled the proffered nipples of one of the nude dancers whilst she herself enjoyed cradling in her lace-gloved admiring palm, the rigid protrusion of flesh being presented to her by one of the handsome young men.

As she did so, she glanced across to catch her father watching her attentively. Their eyes met as she deliberately and provocatively stroked the attractive manhood in front of her. The look between them sealed her father's fate, but was interrupted by a young nude lady throwing herself into his lap with a giggle and stroking his cheek.

At his side, his 'niece' had already opened her robes to display her plump breasts which were enjoying the attentions of one of the sturdy young men, whilst one of the older guests was exploring the folds of flesh between her thighs. Alice wondered which of them would be the first to penetrate those folds. Perhaps both would make an entrance before the night was out.

She turned her attention to the throbbing instrument she was holding. It looked hard and would be most efficient at its allotted task, but she looked up and smiled languidly at the owner of the handsome length of stiff flesh, shaking her head slightly at his inquisitive look. She would never, ever become involved in any public sex performance. He moved away to another likely lady. There would be no shortage of takers.

The music hall chairman called for attention and reprimanded those who were unable to wait before indulging their lusts. He explained that there was to be a display of sex to begin the evening, begging the gentlemen not to get too carried away too soon, leaving nothing for later.

'It would be only right and proper' he announced 'for the Dowager Duchess to lead off with a show of genteel behaviour. Her paramour is to be Sir Nigel, a young nobleman and a distant cousin of Lady Dorothy.'

The guests discontinued their own amorous activities, adjusted their gowns and gathered round in a circle as the Dowager Duchess came calmly into the centre of the floor conscious of her elegance and style which had taken hundreds of years to breed.

A couch had been placed in the middle of the room. She draped herself along it and sipped her red wine serenely and smiled modestly at her audience, her soft grey eyes watchful, though betraying some nerves as she adjusted herself on the couch. Her white hair was exquisitely arranged in a Pompadour coiffeur, pinned in place with pearl pins and ruby studded clips.

Her maid had applied her skills to the Dowager's face to give it a porcelain-like glow with subtly shaded eyelids, carefully lined eyelashes and scarlet lips. He was the picture of health and beauty in the soft light of the chandeliers. In fact she looked stunning and seductive.

Sir Nigel approached her from behind and smoothed his hands over her sloping shoulders, then, bending over to kiss her neck and nibble her ears, the hands slid down under the gown to cover her breasts. He was a young buck barely twenty years old with the reputation of a rake with whom no woman, had she that essential furrow between her legs, was entirely safe.

With her eyes closed, concentrating on the pleasure she was experiencing from the amorous lips of the young nobleman, the Duchess casually pulled the end of the cord around her waist and allowed the gown to fall open revealing her nakedness. Daily massage and exercise had kept her figure slender and the muscles taught. She was a remarkable looking woman and appeared in the flattering light no more than in her mid-thirties.

She knew it and savoured the gasps of admiration from men and women alike as she revealed her body to their gaze. Her small melon-shaped breasts remained fairly firm, though now covered by Sir Nigel's roving hands, and if her waist was a little on the thick side with a well-rounded flawless belly, her thighs were taught and clear-skinned with a tuft of cultivated well-cropped white curls above their cleavage.

The men gazed intently at this wonderful aristocratic body. Sir Nigel eased round the back of the couch, hands roaming down her silken skin as he kissed her dark protruding nipple until he reached her thighs. There, he massaged her inner thigh and gently lifted her the leg nearest to him, bending it up to his body to part the legs and reveal the full glory of her inner thighs.

The guests leaned forward to gaze on that secret aristocratic passage between two plump rolls of flesh pushed apart by the swollen brown labia guarding the puckered entrance which had bewitched many paramours. Alice was ever fascinated by the Dowager's vulva and, as she gazed at it in admiration, wondered how many hundreds of proud male parts had entered through that aristocratic portal over the years.

Although a highly sexual lady, the Duchess had maintained her poise and discretion at all times over the years of promiscuity. The lips were already glistening with moisture as Sir Nigel stroked down the thigh until his fingers met and touched her wetness, her head fell back on the cushions as she murmured her appreciation. His fingers raised the hood at the top of the lips to reveal her little bud and, as he gently caressed it with his second finger, everyone could see the excitement flutter through her belly and thighs.

Parting her legs wider, which pulled open the access to her love channel, she displayed the soft pink flesh, liberally covered with her nectar. Sir Nigel moved round the end of the couch and knelt between her thighs, scrutinising her most secret part before leaning forward and licking the sugary lips with his tongue. This brought a sigh of pleasure from the Dowager and her legs trembled with desire.

Whilst fingering the soft lips, he sat back on his haunches and, with his other hand, opened his scarlet gown to uncover his iron-stiff penis with a foreskin already retracted exposing its shining purple bulb. There were gasps of delight and a spontaneous ripple of applause from some of the ladies looking on - which pleased Sir Nigel. He stood and, clasping his hands behind his head, gyrated slowly so that all could see and admire his stiffness, and the bag of large bulbs beneath, jutting from the blond curls.

The guests could also see the pearl of liquid oozing from the end of his penis, and he proudly displayed it to the Dowager who had opened her eyes to gaze on it with covetous eyes. She reached forward and took it in her right hand and leaned forward to kiss the globular end and run the tip of her tongue over it.

After a few moments of homage to the rigid staff of life, she drew it towards her middle. Sir Nigel accepted the invitation and knelt once more between her thighs, allowing her to place his staff between her willing lips. He nudged it between them, pausing for a moment so that all could see him poised at the opening, before easing it slowly forward until the whole shaft was buried to the very hilt inside the warm female sheath.

Alice marvelled, as always, at the suppleness of the female vulva and its ability to accommodate the male organ, no matter how thick or thin, short or long. She watched engrossed as Sir Nigel's iron-stiff rod pushed aside the fleshy lips and sank into the silky warmth of the woman's body. He slowly withdrew to within half-an-inch, so that all could see the juices smeared along his shaft before thrusting it hard as far as it would reach.

His thrusts gathered pace slowly as the Dowager began to breathe more heavily and rock her head from side to side, groaning and whimpering softly with the agony of delight she felt. Sir Nigel now rolled his thumb over the exposed oily bud as he pummelled in and out of the widespread loins which were rising and falling to meet his thrusts, with louder cries and moans from the Dowager, eyes tight shut, urging him to greater effort.

The combined motion of his thumb and piston brought the Dowager to a paroxysm of uncontrollable jerks and twitches and she began to scream as streams of fire enveloped her body, so much so that Sir Nigel had difficulty keeping his place inside her.

The onlookers held their breath in anticipation as a final shout, with threshing legs against the couch, announced her final release from the mounting agony within her. After a few more thrusts, Sir Nigel pulled out of the warm sheath with a cry, spouting his seed with eight successive jerks, like a fountain, over the Dowager's chest up to her neck. The guests cried out in delight with generous spontaneous applause.

The Dowager pushed away the proffered towel from her maid and, with her open palm, massaged the pools of sticky juice over her breasts and nipples until they had been completely absorbed into her skin. Only then did she wrap her gown round her, incline her head with an appreciative smile at the guests and return with her maid to the comfort of her deep armchair.

Alice thought how wonderful it was of nature to allow a woman such ecstatic enjoyment of her body, even after all those years of continued use and experience. It was a sensation which couldn't be matched for most women, and once experienced demanded to be repeated time after time. Every orgasm was like a new experience to be sought for again and again. She herself enjoyed one daily.

'Next, ladies and gentlemen,' announced the chairman after the murmur of appreciation had finally subsided, 'our dancer, the beautiful Marguerite, will offer herself up to any gentleman,' - there was a general movement among the men - 'but, gentlemen - who had first proved his staying power against another with two volunteer ladies.'

Sir Roland's 'niece' immediately stepped forward as a volunteer together with Lady Dorothy herself. They paraded round the circle of guests to cheers and rude comments, flapping open their gowns to display their naked bodies to the gentlemen.

Two men stepped into the circle. One was the young Lord Fotheringham, a handsome eligible batchelor who had recently taken over the title on his fathers early demise, and whose mother was among the guests, and the other was the older Sir William Fosdyke whose wife was also among the guests.

'Ladies and gentlemen, it is the task of our two delightful ladies to ply their charms in any way whatever to these two gentlemen with the object of bringing them to their climax. The one who withstands the temptress longest will finish his desires with Marguerite. Please gentlemen, sit on either end of the couch.'

And they did. Gloria immediately set to with Lord Fotheringham, kneeling before him, opening his gown and slipping it off his shoulders. She took his thickening staff, placing it in her mouth, and cupping his warm soft bag of plums in her palm, squeezing them gently as she bobbed her face up and down on his shaft feeling it stiffen and thicken in her mouth.

Meanwhile, Lady Dorothy was soon cooing over the rearing phallus of Sir William and stroking it expertly between the palms of both hands, pulling the foreskin back on the down-stroke and rolling it back again on the up-stroke. She nibbled his nipples between her lips and trailed her own stiffened nipples up and down his thigh.

There was much vocal encouragement from the guests as Gloria, once she had achieved Lord Fotheringham's full erection, pushed him back against the couch and straddled over his lower belly.

Alice acknowledged the beauty of Gloria's thighs with their ivory silky-textured skin completely free from any blemish, meeting together in a thick bush of black curls from which a pair of puckered coral lips protruded. She placed his shaft against the fleecy lips, impaled herself on it and pumped up and down energetically for several moments so that her copious lubricating juices could be seen drenching the base of the shaft, giving a slopping noise as she pushed up and down in it.

Then, lifting herself off the shaft now covered liberally with her nectar, she pressed the slimy shaft against the soft wetness of her vulva with her hand which she slid up and down in the gluey wetness. Her thumb was firmly held to the top underside whilst her other hand continued to caress his tight testicles showing trickles of her juices over the crinkled skin, her slippery second finger toying with the puckered entrance to his rear entrance and the tip even, at times, invading its dark orifice.

Meanwhile, Marguerite, now wearing a short white jacket which did nothing to hide the curls above her legs, joined the circle. She had long, perfectly shaped and proportioned legs, with slim thighs and wide hips, which allowed her vulva to be seen at all times. She had a narrow waist and well-rounded cheeks of her bottom giving her a beautifully shaped spine. She had a truly magnificent figure with firm high breasts of perfect texture, tipped with pink nipples and chunky buds.

Marguerite carried out some high kicks exercises and balletic stances designed to display her womanly charms to the whole company, but particularly she teased the two contestants, holding her leg in the air against her shoulder so that her love tunnel opened its pink treasures to their gaze.

Alice admired the beauty of her gaping secret passage, its lips drawn apart, offering to a visitor a journey of joy and delight culminating in ecstatic fulfilment. After some three or four minutes, Lord Fotheringham could hold back no longer and with a mighty bellow spurted his seed into Gloria's pressing palm which she quickly spread over his still twitching shaft.

Marguerite at once knelt between Lord Fotheringham's thighs and took the dripping column into her mouth, licking away all the evidence of his emission, whilst her nose nuzzled against the top of Gloria's open lips and excited her little bud.

Then she stood to a shout of approval from the guests as Lady Dorothy stood and held Sir William's hand high in a victory salute. Lord Fotheringham smiled and shook Sir William's hand.

'For me, Sir William, that was the hors d'oeuvres. I look forward to the other four courses during the rest of the evening. Perhaps I can share the final savoury with your wife later.'

'I'm sure she will be only too delighted to taste your dish my Lord!' Sir William replied with a laugh. 'My appetite rarely exceeds beyond two or three courses at the most these days.'

The tall figure of Marguerite then faced the end of the couch, parted her legs and bent over, placing her hands on the couch and thrusting out her bottom. Sir William studied the scene before him with obvious relish studying the twin orifices before parting the pouting, crinkled inner lips of the lower one, with the thumbs of both hands and presenting the purple polished end of his stiff rod against their slippery entrance.

Alice examined Sir William's equipment with interest. It was her first sighting of this particular specimen. She approved of its slight upward bend, its thickness ribbed with prominent veins, the ridge of gathered foreskin below the pointed bulbous end and the low-hanging testicles, surrounded by a forest of thick brown curls. She could not recollect having seen a weapon as pointed before, as she watched it disappear into the tunnel, stretching the puffy lips apart.

With a long sigh, he slid deep inside the receiving flesh and slowly bucked back and forth into the pink velvety warmth. Marguerite wriggled her bottom with delight, then placed one foot on the end of the couch, leaning hard against Sir William, followed by the other leg so that she was crouched with her hands between her splayed feet, bouncing her bottom on the stiffest part of Sir William.

He supported her with his hands under the cheeks as spontaneous applause burst from the guests at this feat of contortion. Then, with accurate timing, Marguerite spun round, disengaging from Sir William, and took his thickness into her mouth, cradling the hanging balls with one hand. As the muscles in his bottom began to stiffen and twitch, Marguerite took the shaft from her mouth and grasped it in her hand and watched the stream of sperm spit from the eye of the bulb and splatter her face and shoulders.

This was met with a shout of appreciation from the lady guests and to everyone's delight, Marguerite scooped up the globules with her fingers and sucked them clean before finally wiping off the remains with a towel handed to her by one of the maids.

Others were beginning to enter into the spirit of the evening. Lady Dorothy was slouched in an arm chair, arms hanging loosely over each chair arm, obviously enjoying what one of the young studs was doing to her with his head pushed high between her ample thighs. Alice knew the enjoyment of lapping at those honeyed lips.

Alice decided that the time had come for her to retire quietly with Edward before she became drawn into a compromising situation. Under different circumstances she would have arranged her own private orgy, but she had other plans for her satisfaction that evening. She turned to Edward, who was being fondled between his thighs by another of the beautiful naked ladies, and whispered softly in Edward's ear before she moved through the writhing couples to the door and into the hall.

As she passed Sir Ronald, she paused to watch the young nude lady fondling the warm bag below his groin and running her wet tongue slowly up and down the length of his erect stiffness. She smiled mockingly as his eyes met hers and her fingers brushed aside the top of her gown to reveal her swollen nipple to him. She raised her eyebrow with an enquiring look. He smiled and inclined his head in a slight nod.

When she reached the hall, Alice moved swiftly up the staircase, down the corridor and into the Earl of Studeley's room. A fire was burning in the grate and an oil lamp was burning low, illuminating the room with a warm glimmer, throwing her shadow against the wine-coloured damask-covered walls.

For a few moments, Alice stood inside the door, a little out of breath, feeling her heart beating fast with excitement and anticipation. She moved swiftly to the table in the centre of the room where she opened her small evening bag and took out a folded paper packet. Unfolding it, she tipped the white powder it contained into a cut-glass goblet. The paper was screwed, returned to her bag, and she reached for the decanter of claret.

Next, she filled the goblet, and held it up to the lamp, watching the powder dissolve in the ruby coloured liquid as she swirled it round inside the glass. After setting it down on the table, Alice poured a brandy from another decanter into a glass and replaced the stopper. A little water was added from the carafe before taking a sip. She then looked round the room.

It was dominated by a large bed with heavily carved mahogany ends and red hangings from the canopy to match the wall-coverings, tied back to either side of the bed-head. The Earl's night clothes were already laid out on the bed. To the right of the bed was a door leading into a dressing room which was shared with the adjoining bedroom which happened to be that occupied by Sir Ronald Beaver.

Lady Dorothy had been only too pleased to comply with the request made by her popular actress friend, and incomparable occasional lover, that Sir Ronald and the Earl occupy adjoining rooms. Alice opened the door into the darkened dressing room, with its low burning fire, and could just discern the furnishings and gentlemen's clothes hanging from their frames. The valets would be in the servants quarters, no doubt enjoying their own Bacchanalian feast, and not expected to appear unless summoned by the bellpull

The door opposite led to Sir Ronald's bedroom which would be a replica of the Earl's. She crossed quickly to the door and turned the handle, but the door was locked from the other side. Alice hadn't expected that. She took a thoughtful sip of brandy and returned to Edward's room just as he was entering.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 14



'Darling Edward!' she whispered as she crossed to him, placed her free arm round his neck and kissed him ardently on the lips, pressing her groin against him. 'Come,' she said, 'I shall be your valet this evening and undress you.'

She went to the table and picked up the goblet of claret. 'But first,' she said, handing him the drink, 'a toast to us!'

He smiled at her, clinked her brandy glass, and stood sipping his drink whilst Alice, after putting her glass on the table, unfastened the buttons of his gown and opened it. She knelt in front of the exposed half erect penis, cupped the genitals in both gloved hands and planted a kiss there.

Alice looked up at the Earl and smiled. 'I can see that you've already enjoyed someone's adoring lips, Edward. But there's none gives you pleasure to match mine.'

He smiled in return. She knew what the Earl liked. She felt his staff begin to throb and grow and, opening her lips, took the half-soft protrusion into her mouth where it continued to swell.

When it had reached a satisfactory stiffness, Alice stood, slid the gown over one arm, moved his goblet into the other hand, and slid the gown over his back and let it fall behind him to the floor. Although getting on in years, the Earl still had a reasonable figure, perhaps tending to stoutness, and the hair on his chest and lower belly had turned white.

He parted his legs as Alice once again sank to her knees to pay homage to the stiff pride jutting from its white furry nest. It no longer hugged tight against his belly, pointing forward rather than upward, but remained, nevertheless, a good, solid specimen of male flesh. After a few moments of kisses and fondling, Alice stood, opened her gown, and placed the jutting flesh into the join of her thighs. She pushed herself back and forth several times, sliding over the stiffness, caressing it with the wet lips of her vulva, before leading him to the bed and sitting him on the edge.

'Drink up darling,' she said, 'I'm ready for some fun.'

Edward knocked back what was left in the goblet and Alice took it from him and put it on the table at the side of the bed. During all this, the Earl had said not a word, but merely smiled with pleasure at the treatment. He laid himself back on the bed and closed his eyes and Alice knelt between his knees and ran her tongue round the head of his sensitive part, teasing that part where the bulb joined the foreskin.

After a short time the Earl's breathing became deep and regular and the stiffness began to soften. Alice stood and looked down on the reclining figure. Fast asleep! It didn't take long for a sleeping draught to work at his age. She took his lower legs, lifted them and swung them onto the bed, covering him with his dressing gown. Crossing to the door to his room, she turned the key and placed it in the pocket of her gown before looking round, satisfying herself that all was in order.

On the dressing table was the thin-bladed knife, used as a paper knife, which Alice had smuggled up from the writing room and placed there earlier in the evening when joining the Earl before going down together for the reception. She would have to risk holding it behind her back and hope her father wouldn't notice it.

She went through into the dressing room with a feeling of growing excitement and anticipation. Alice closed the door, crossed the room lit only by the flickering flames of the coal fire, paused at the door opposite and pressed her ear to its panels. She held her breath as she listened intently. Silence!

She stood back, adjusted her gown, and taking a deep breath, tapped gently on the door. There was a long pause. Nothing! She began to panic, wondering if there had been a hitch. Had he not got the message, she wondered? Should she tap again?

She lifted her knuckles just as she heard the key turn in the lock. She stood back as the door was pushed open and the shaft of light fell across her. Sir Ronald was silhouetted in the door way. 'Welcome,' he said quietly, standing to one side to allow her to enter the bedroom. She moved swiftly into the room and crossed to the dressing table, turned and leaned back against it, placing the knife silently on the table.

During this Sir Roland closed the door, then crossed to the other door and turned the key in the lock. 'Better to make sure we're not disturbed by careless staff,' he said coming to her.

He stood before her, breathing calmly, and looked carefully into her eyes. There was a curious look of tenderness in them, she thought, as she returned his gaze with a certain defiance. Nothing was said between them.

She smiled. 'So!' she whispered and reached into his gown with her right hand to feel for his warm softness. 'Hmmm,' she murmured, 'that feels good and strong.'

It was slightly tacky. She wondered if he had already discharged into the young nude blonde he had been fondling. Or perhaps it was just her spittle which had not quite dried on him. She felt a certain obscene elation in holding her father's swelling cock in her palm, but she was not at all repelled by it. She had thought she might be.

Her mother must have felt this same stiff part of him on many occasions, and thrilled to its intrusion into her body. Their eyes continued to search each other's as though trying to understand the significance of their actions. He was now swelling fast and his breathing was getting heavier as she strengthened her strokes.

Sir Roland slid to his knees, parted her gown, and put his hands behind her. By the light of the oil-lamp, he gazed at the pronounced mound with its shaped tuft of hair, whilst caressing the soft flesh of the cheeks of her bottom, and admired the way that the removal of hair had accentuated the swollen inner lips bursting through the fleshy opening.

He placed a kiss on the sensual swelling at the join of her thighs and manoeuvred his tongue under the hood of flesh which protected the nub of her private pleasure. Her hips jolted spontaneously and she gasped out loud with pleasure, arching herself into him, and gripping his shoulders as the tip of his tongue discovered her clitoris.

'Yes!' she blurted, 'go on!'

He rolled his tongue between her soft slick lips until she almost forgot her purpose. Her body was reacting strongly to his kisses and her bottom wriggled against him. She felt she was losing control over herself, desperately wanting to feel him sink into her. Things were not going the way she had planned at all.

He stood up, holding her thighs. 'Come to the bed,' he said almost as a gentle challenge.

'No,' Alice gasped, 'not yet. Later! Do it here! Now!' There was urgency and desperation in her thick voice. 'Do it to me here! I can't wait! A quick hard one first! Then a lingering one later!'

She leaned back against the table, folded her knees wide open and drew his stiffness towards her. Positioning the end of it into the sloppy portals of the secret warmth he had already licked open and made wild with lust.

'Split me with it!' she begged as she thrust her groin into him.

With one firm push, the rock-hard stiffness invaded her. It filled her. My goodness, she thought, now I know what mother must have thrilled to. Alice knew instinctively that he made a marvellous seducer and it felt incredible. Though he had become a stranger to her, she felt utterly promiscuous at being penetrated by her own father. She knew that she would soon dissolve into a rapturous orgasm if she didn't keep a grip on herself, and that her irrepressible lust for more would overtake her plan for revenge.

She concentrated hard on her father to help him to his growing excitement, building up her resolve. 'I hate you! I hate you!' she repeated to herself over and over again. 'Revenge for my mother, I hate you! I hate you! You're a rat! You must be exterminated like one!'

He was now bucking into her powerfully, eyes closed as the tumult grew within him. Listening to his laboured breathing and groans of pleasure, seeing his eyes screwing up tight, and his thrusts become more violent and irregular, Alice reached behind her to pick up the knife from the table.

Grasping the handle with both hands, she placed the point against her father's left ribs and, before he could possibly know what was happening, he pulled out of her with a stifled cry of anguish. He jerked his shoulders backwards whilst his waist pushed forward and his juices began to spill into her heart-shaped tuft. At that very moment, Alice hugged him tightly to her and the sharp point of the dagger slid effortlessly through his rib cage and deep into his heart.

'Revenge!' she cried triumphantly. He died instantaneously at the moment of his agonizing orgasm, and slumped, lifeless, against Alice. As she held him there in her arms, she felt his convulsions and the warm seed still continue to gush onto her belly until the muscles relaxed their last.

The seed of a dead man! Millions and millions of little potential brothers and sisters going to waste on her belly. Oh that she might have been a mother to her own sister! This was a fantastic, mind-blowing experience. Then, to her astonishment and supreme gratification, her own body began to shake uncontrollably, and, with a violent spasm, a shattering orgasm swept over her to reach every nerve ending of her body.

With a stifled cry of relief, her knees buckled under her with the intensity of the most thrilling climax of her whole life. She had never imagined that coitus with her father could be the biggest sexual thrill ever. 

After listening to her own gasps for air, Alice recovered her breath, struggling to support the weight of her dead father slumped against her. A dressing chair was close to her right. Judging the position carefully, she took a deep breath and heaved the body into it, steadying it as the body collapsed into the seat, arranging the lifeless form so that the head slumped forward.

The hilt of the knife pointed upwards, silhouetted against the lamp. Alice checked the sleeves of her gown but found no spot of blood. She then went quickly to work. She poured a little water from the water jug into the bowl, took the flannel draped over the wash-stand, dipped it in the water, and wiped her father's still half-swollen genitals, then her own belly, to remove all signs of their activity as thoroughly as she could, then dried them with the hand towel hanging over the rail at the side of the wash-stand.

The flannel was squeezed out and returned, with the towel, to where she had found them, then she drew the gown round the dead body and tied the cord. Alice stood in the silence of the room for a few moments thinking about her next moves.

After a good look round to make sure that everything was in place Alice noticed another paper knife lying on the dressing table. She decided it would have to be smuggled back to the writing room before breakfast the next morning, to replace the one she had taken. It would then appear that his own paper knife had been used.

In the distance she heard the squeals of laughter of the guests enjoying their party.

Alice went through the things she must remember to do.

After checking the outer door of Sir Roland's room was still locked, she must leave the key in the lock. Back in the dressing room she would lock the door to his room after her, and slide the key under the door to lie on the carpet. People would think it had just fallen out.

Next, once back in Edward's room, she would drop his gown where she had let if fall earlier and climb onto the bed with Edward. Then she would then smear whatever mingled juices she could from her genitals over his soft penis, lay beside him and assume sleep.

When they awoke, Alice would remonstrate with him jokingly for splashing all over her and making such a mess. The Earl was too proud not to accept the responsibility for such an act. No one could possibly suspect her. The dead man would be found in his room with both doors locked from the inside. If necessary, the Earl would swear that she had been with him all night.

Alice looked round the murder room once again. Ah! The paper knife. She mustn't leave that.

It was when she crossed to the dressing table for it, that she noticed the letter. It had been pushed back into the envelope which was laid open at the back of the table, with the paper knife that had been used to open it beside it. As Alice took up the knife, her curiosity about the letter overcame her and she picked it up.

She straight away recognised her mother's handwriting. Alice was bewildered by the discovery! It was addressed to Sir Roland Beaver, MP, House of Commons, London SW and had a Pimlico postmark dated ten days ago. What on earth could her mother be doing, writing to her father, she wondered? She had always maintained that he no longer existed for her.

What was it she had to say to him after all these years of silence? Taking the letter from the envelope, Alice crossed to the lamp as she unfolded it. It was a single sheet and certainly from her mother. She read it.

'Dear Roland, I see from the Times newspaper that you have managed to return to London society and I suppose I must congratulate you on your appointment to a knighthood. That must have cost you a pretty penny. But then, I suppose you can now afford it if all I hear about your financial ventures are true. I must tell you, however, that I am very ill and am fearful of dying very soon. As a final request, I wanted to beg of you, before I finally meet my maker, that should you ever come across Alice in your socialising, you would continue to keep the secret of her real father's name from her. You do know, I expect, that she is now a famous actress with the stage name of Alice Winsford .....'

The letter fell from Alice's hand and fluttered to the floor.

There was a silence in the room as the guests absorbed the meaning of the letter.

'What an interesting story,' was Emma's immediate observation. 'So, her father knew all along who she really was.'

'I see!' it was Martin who spoke. 'Alice thought she was committing incest.'

'Yes, but he was quite aware that he wasn't, since his wife had been impregnated by another.'

'I suppose Alice got caught and done for murder,' Enid asked.

'Not at all', Bill replied. 'One of the servants was blamed, but no one could find any evidence or any motive. But Alice took poison some months later, unable to live with what she had done!'



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 15



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home.

Chapter fifteen: The TV Presenter's tale. The African Ambassador

After the enactment of Enid's fantasy of a gang bang in the harem of a Sultan, and the story about the stately home orgy, Julie persuaded Enid to end her special day of sexual excess by showing the guests her party trick. Although she remonstrated at first, Enid eventually agreed.

Julie placed a large cut-glass bowl in the centre of the coffee table, inviting the guests to arrange themselves round it. Enid slipped out of her robe, got onto the table, squatting over the bowl. The guests all peered eagerly at the exposed vulva, for no matter how often she had displayed it to them, everyone was anxious to examine it again. As they were every vulva!

Enid was fairly tall, with sloping shoulders and small rounded breasts, set close together on the front of her chest, with almost girlish pink buds for nipples. Her hips were slender with prominent thigh bones, and between them, the sparse light hair covered her flat mound. The outstanding feature of her vulva was the surprisingly large clitoris, now obvious in all its glory between the squatting thighs.

The small puffed lips, ridges of brown-coloured flesh, did little to hide the pink valley with its main passage clearly visible, though protected by small buds of flesh. The other small slit was clearly visible below the clitoris. The labia started just below the clitoral hood, running down each side of the central valley, meeting below the vaginal buds.

Enid pulled her outer labia apart, looking down into the bowl. After a few light squeezes of her internal muscles, a stream of golden stream trickled into the bowl. She stopped and started again, filling the bowl with short bursts to the amazement of the guests.

'That's some control!' Laurie remarked. 'Though I'm not sure why we are so fascinated by watching a lady pee!'

'Once I've started, I just can't stop,' Susan admitted.

'Me too!' Gertie agreed.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Laurie aimed his cock at Enid's chin, sprinkling her neck with his own golden stream. It trickled down her body, over her belly, through the sparse covering of hair, into the crevice of her vulva, where it dribbled into the goblet, filling the bowl.

There was a spontaneous round of general applause for Enid and Laurie, who took up the bowl, offering it to anyone who fancied a taste. There was much laughter, but no takers. Robert gathered up Enid's gown, wrapped an arm round her shoulders, and steered her towards the stairs. He would spend the night in her arms.

Julie invited George to her bed, with the ever-ready Anne to make a threesome, whilst Delia took Jake in her arms, giving him a tempting kiss. As they moved to the staircase, Susan approached Martin, leaving Gertie and Laurie to share a bed.

During the night, the silence of the darkened hotel was broken gently with sighs and moans of sexual pleasure and effort.

On the fifth morning, Emma awoke with Bill quietly asleep at her side. As she looked at him she recalled the events of the past week. It was unbelievable! Until she had allowed Rick Jones, the famous young star of the international theatre company she managed, to seduce her, her sex life had been quiet. Having got to her top position in the company by sexual favours to the Theatre Director, then the Chairman, Emma resolved to build a reputation for sober coolness. Her body was not for others! She would remain aloof from the members of the acting company. 

Then Rick had come along, and she astonished herself by breaking her own resolve. He was persuasive - flattering and so attentive. She cracked! They fucked morning noon and night. His appetite for fornication was without end! A marathon of fucking!

Then, returning to her flat that fateful Friday morning for a forgotten file, she discovered him in her bed, shagging the young actor Jennie Carver. After all he had said to her when he had fucked her on th same bed but a couple of hours earlier! The rat! In her bed! She was seething with anger and indignation during her drive to collect Jake, a black actor joining the company.

Stranded by appalling weather at a lonely inn, Emma and Jake found themselves in illustrious company on an illicit weekend of unrestrained sex. After a night with the stallion, Jake, with his big black cock, Emma had become attracted to Bill. They had hardly left each other's side since. Three nights of love-making with Bill had been delicious. Rick was forgotten - well, pushed aside to make room for better memories of lust - first with Jake, then with Bill.

Ten days of non-stop sex had been exhilarating. And what company! A government minister, his millionaire wife, a famous TV presenter, a top model, a best-selling author and her international marketing guru husband. All dropping out of their hectic lives to wallow in a few days of unrelenting sex, to recharge their batteries!

A handsome host and his gorgeous hostess wife, with two voluptuous 'maids'. Wife swapping, group sex, played out fantasies and story telling had filled the last four days. Emma could hardly believe it!

Turning to the sleeping Bill, she gently placed her hand over his groin. Yes! Early morning pride! His cock was stiff. Emma carefully straddled her body over his until she was kneeling over hi, hoping not to wake him. With one hand she managed to guide the stiff cock to the entrance of her pussy. As she sank her loins onto the stiffness, Bill opened his eyes.

'That's some wake-up call, ' he muttered, reaching up to kiss her lighty.

As Emma started to fuck in earnest, Anne came in with their morning cup of tea. She placed it on the bedside table without interrupting them.

Now, on this fifth day, the sun was shining. So, after breakfast a party of four decided to explore the dazzling, snow-covered country-side. Robert had managed to provide galoshes for those in need of them, and the snow-shoes were taken along as a precaution. It was a refreshing, very clear, crisp day, giving the adventurers an appetite.

By the time they returned for coffee, though, the weather had changed. Dark, threatening clouds were gathering from the west. More snow was likely.

Julie called for attention from the guests.

'This evening, Jake has promised a fascinating story of love in the jungle, so as a curtain raiser for that, we have another story of African sex interest, though it takes place I believe in England. It's Delia's turn to tell her story.'

At thirty-one, Delia was a willowy blonde with a face not unlike Marilyn Munroe with a generous sensuous mouth, rounded chin and excessive bust. A very popular TV presenter, Delia had the calm exterior of a duchess, holding her head high with a tendency to look down her nose with a slightly superior air. But this was due to her shyness. Her bust was large which always drew attention of viewers, though they might be a little disappointed to know that it tended to sag without support. She was often seen in the society pages with her slight smile, looking unapproachable.

She was most at home in the company of friends who didn't ogle her tits all the time. Although envied by some women who had less to offer, Delia was rather embarrassed by them, which accounted in part for her apparent air of superiority. Although, when her tits were handled with care, or even fucked, she enjoyed the wonderful arousal it gave her!

All turned to Delia waiting for her tale of eroticism. This was her story.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, you probably won't believe this! I had a very unexpected and eventful afternoon at one of the Shakespeare Birthday Celebrations a few years ago. What a day it turned out to be! I was working on the local newspaper at the time, covering the events of the day.

At the official lunch, I was asked by the Committee Secretary if I would sit beside one of the African Ambassadors and keep him company. I'd been chosen to 'entertain' his highness, for he was also a Prince of his country, besides being its ambassador. Prince Mtoto - or something! I had no idea which country he was from - they did tell me, I've just forgotten! - but his stature was large. Gosh! He was almost seven feet tall and built accordingly. His chair was barely adequate for his size. The knife and fork seemed as dolls-house cutlery in his large fists.

He spoke softly and easily about his interest in Shakespeare and how grateful he was to have been invited to the Birthday Celebration lunch. And to be seated beside so charming and beautiful a lady. He was so very charming and easy to get along with. I didn't feel any embarrassment at all.

I noticed very quickly his interest in me, though. Or rather, my body! Whenever he turned to me, his eyes strayed into my cleavage, searching for a glimpse of the nipple. It was warm for April and I had the top button of my blouse unfastened, which allowed a fair expanse of breast to be seen. He certainly noticed! Perhaps he thought I'd done that for his benefit.

He had a deep resonant voice. Melodious and soothing. It had an almost hypnotic quality. Even so, I only half listened to him. You know me! My mind was engaged in speculating on what he would look like naked. An African God! I always wonder about the genitals of any man I meet! No one would think it to look at me, but I'm just fascinated by cocks. And I was wondering if the Prince's cock was as large as the rest of him. If so, it must be a mighty weapon. The mere thought of it filled my knickers with pussy juice, I can tell you!

Well, although there were four others at the same table, he seemed interested in conversing only with me. He spoke about the beauty of his country, its varied culture and the proud bearing of its women. He invited me to visit his country, which he said he would arrange personally. Would you believe that!?

Anyway, as the wine flowed during the excellent meal, I began to imagine myself as Desdemona spread naked on the brown sheets of the bed, as my Othello approached, his massive black cock swaying eagerly in from of his ebony torso. Then I realised that he was inviting me back to his hotel suite for a special coffee. Gosh!

'But are you not expected to the matinee performance in the theatre?'

'No, no. I and my party are the guests of the Artistic Director at this evening's performance. The company will be touring Africa next year. Will you be there?'

'I'm afraid not. After lunch my escort duties are over, though I may see you again tomorrow in the Guild Chapel for a short concert.'

After the speeches, the afternoon was half over. Guests stood and chatted idly, as people started to drift away, some towards the theatre for the special matinee performance. The Prince stood and gallantly helped me to my feet. After profusely thanking the Secretary for an excellent luncheon, and for providing such a delightful companion, he turned back to me just as I was about to disappear.

'Please. Come,' he asked in a voice filled with hope and expectation with that hypnotic voice. How could I refuse such an invitation. Besides, he had me by the elbow propelling me forward.

And so it was that I went with the Prince, his spotless white robes flowing around him, to the waiting white limousine at the gate, where his two bodyguards and the chauffeur were already in position. I settled with him into the rear seats of the warm interior before the car glided away from the theatre gardens.

During the journey he asked me all about myself, but his interest in my boobs was now barely disguised. The whites of his large eyes showed their excitement as he stared into the cleavage. The second button of my white fine muslin blouse had become unfastened, displaying an uninterrupted view of the upper swelling encased in a flimsy white bra, showing the promise of my large swollen nipples hidden beneath the fine lace.

His conversation soon turned to my so-called beauty, my perfect body, my graciousness and his sheer delight in sitting beside an English rose! I'm nearly forty for goodness sake! I laughed lightly at these flattering comments, brushing them aside with a wave of the hand which the Prince caught up in his and kissed gently, gazing meaningfully into my eyes.

'You are truly beautiful. Such exciting breasts.'

The car swept into the hotel forecourt, his bodyguards quickly going before us to find a lift waiting. We were whisked up to the top floor where the Prince had the penthouse suite overlooking the sweeping hills of the Cotswold countryside. The lounge was spacious, luxuriously furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas. It was so posh! Gosh!

We settled into the cushions of the sofa facing the picture window overlooking the view. Glasses of brandy appeared on the coffee table in front of us. I was rather bemused as we raised our glasses in a silent salute to each other. As the liquid trickled hotly down my throat, I knew it was brandy, certainly, but it had an unusual flavour.

And it had a curious effect. I felt so wonderfully relaxed and content. I closed my eyes. When I felt the Prince's large hand stray into the top of my blouse to lightly stroke the smooth skin, I felt no revulsion. In fact it was pleasant to have my boobs caressed in such luxury. And when the blouse was unbuttoned and slipped easily from my shoulders, the bra unclasped, I made no attempt to stop it. Though my boobs are firm and full they slumped forward slightly.

The nipples were nuzzled by thick lips whilst large hands explored the soft contours of my shoulders and boobs. Then I realised that the fastenings of my skirt were being released. But do you know what, Jill? I didn't care. I slid a little further down the sofa as the skirt was pulled over my thighs, the flimsy panties with it. Knowing that I was now completely naked, showing my body to this black giant, gave me a strange feeling of pleasure and pride.

I know my waist is not as narrow as it once was, and my thighs are a bit meatier, but I am blonde and pale skinned. Even my pubic hair is blonde, as you know. So the big black prince will be happy enough.

He searched the lightly covered mound above my pussy, running his large fingers through the blonde curls, cupping hy whole vulva in the enormous palm. The thick middle finger sought out the entrance between my floppy lips and found the slippery entrance. It was almost like a cock entering, so thick was the finger. But it told him all he wanted to know. As you all know, I lubricate rather copiously. So it was clear that I was fully prepared to be fucked.

Hey! I was then scooped up into his arms and carried into the next room and laid softly on the bed! I just lay there being quietly studied. Half opening my eyes, I saw the Prince facing the bottom of the bed, his two guards helping him to slip off his robes. He was naked underneath. His powerful black body shimmering like ebony! The sunlight was shining through the gauze curtains behind him, silhouetting his gorgeous frame. I know it sounds like a romantic novel, but it's true!!

And his cock? My eyes were drawn straight to the most important bit of him, naturally! Did I say 'bit'? Although it wasn't fully erect, it was a weapon to gawp at! I watched transfixed as he just stood there, arms folded, looking down at me whilst his cock filled with each pulse of his heart! It swayed and jerked, and rose to an imposing size. I've never seen anything like it! On the Prince it didn't look particularly large, but then he is a huge man and so was his cock!

My goodness, I thought. I'm to be sacrificed to his will. Is he going to try to get that monster into my pussy? But I did nothing to dissuade him. In fact I slowly parted my legs and lifted my knees a little to expose my wet pussy for him, begging to be penetrated. His eyes were glued to it.

'Such beauty must be admired before being sacrificed to the warrior god,' he said. 'Such a pale body, with golden hair. You never find such a one in my country.'

I smiled at him. 'You look pretty handsome yourself, your highness!' I murmured rather stupidly!

'We black warriors cherish the pale white blonde. It is a very special prize for any conqueror. In olden days, we raided villages where there were known to be missionaries, just to admire - and probably ravish - the blonde women amongst them.'

'We're all the same where it matters, though.'

'Don't you believe it ma'am! You are just delicious! A golden fleece framing the delightful, beautiful crevice of desire and mystery.'

For several minutes, he just gazed in wonderment at the vision of sacrificial, pale womanhood enclosed in a surround golden curls, before drawing my body to the bottom of the bed so that my legs hung over the bottom edge. He stood between them to present his handsome weapon before my stare. I was transfixed, then gingerly touched it. Hard as steel, and, though heavily veined, smooth as black silk. For a few moments I just stroked and worshiped it whilst he smiled down, taking in my contours. It was awesome as well as handsome!

Eventually, he sank to his knees to study my pussy at closer quarters. Stretching my thighs wide open with his huge hands, he parted the labia to display the dilated entrance to my secret altar of desire - my pink beauty, now coated with thick female syrup - his eyes continued to drink in the sight.

'Your vagina leaks copiously, Delia. It will adequately lubricate my entry into your mystery.'

'But not all of it, please, your highness! I couoldn't take your whole length.'

'Fear not, madam. I shall take care not to hurt you.'

He scooped my juices which, by this time, were trickling down to my bum, onto the tips of his first two fingers, smearing them carefully over the end of his gleaming cock before placing it against the entrance. The sheer feeling of its presence set a light orgasm rippling through my belly.

It was with a long sigh of tense anticipation that I reached that utter magical moment we ladies live for. That of having a stiff cock about to penetrate our secret shrine. But this was an extra special moment. My long-held fantasy, feeling a large black cock slowly nudge its way between the folds, stretching them wide to force its passage. Although I winced as the flesh stretched to its limit, what an ecstatic feeling of utter joy to have your pussy filled as it has never been filled before. It was everything I had ever imagined it would be. Bloody glorious!

When it reached the furthest depths of me, there was still some cock left! I daren't allow it to penetrate to the hilt. I knew I would never get it all in, so I grasped the base of it in one hand to prevent being torn open!

When he start to fuck me - once the tightness had eased - it was just indescribably marvellous! He sang my praises all the time, each thud pushing the air out of my lungs, making me grunt with joy. His two henchmen took hold of an ankle each, keeping my thighs apart, giving his large hands the chance to explore my tits and stroke my belly. Both guards had full erections. Boy! What a lot of cock! My dreams come true!




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 15



Then with a mighty lunge, with a loud grunt of effort, which I must say gave me a jab of discomfort, his loins lunged violently and the cock exploded in a succession of erratic spasms, filling my fanny and sending my brain into full orbit.

I screamed and screamed as I ejaculated, spurt after spurt of girly-juice, all over the Prince's belly, soaking his forest of black hair. He was astonished and delighted at seeing me gush all over him.

I know you've had lots of cock, Julie. What is the biggest you've managed to embrace with your pussy, I wonder?

'I'm lucky, darling,' she responded. 'I have a cavernous vagina. Can be a disadvantage sometimes, though.'

Anyway, when I came back to earth, the Prince had dislodged himself, letting one of the guards take his place. I wasn't expecting that! Another large black invader thrust its way inside, filling my pussy, dripping with the Prince's sperm, soaked by my own juices, whilst the other guard started to masturbate over my face. I could see his huge cock being jerked in front of my glazed eyes.

The Prince was sitting in a chair watching the action, grinning broadly whilst toying with his half-full cock. I was almost numb with being fucked hard. I could see the whites of my new partners eyes, gleaming with lust, his hands stroking my white skin in awe, his loins thudding against my tender vulva. The soft, stretched flesh of my vagina clung to the thick shaft. Smeared with mixed juices, each time it withdrew before slamming back in. 

My breasts were being fondled by one hand of the other guard. The nipples were hard, protruding like thimbles from the swollen areolas. He was fascinated by them, as his other hand casually jerked his hard black cock. I turned my head to face it, opening my mouth to encourage it to enter.

The guard read the signs, pushing the cock at my mouth. It was all I could do to get the head in. I sucked and licked at it. He was grunting and jolting his loins in my face, as he continued to pump his cock.

The skin was dark chocolate in colour, also with pronounced veins scattered beneath the surface, the head was no thicker actually than the shaft, though that was thick enough for my mouth! The head was a dark vermillion colour, oozing his juices. I nibbled and scraped my teeth over the whole length of it. 

Watching his guards ravish my pale body aroused the Prince again. He had now recovered his full erection and approached the other side of me. I turned my head to examine his huge monster. As I did, I grabbed the second guard's cock. He was getting quite excited by this time, grunting loudly with lurching hips, until he spurted his copious thick white juice all over my face and in my hair. I was fascinated as the large globs oozed from his cock!

The guard fucking me was getting excited as well, spasms beginning to shake his loins. His breathing was erratic and noisy. My poor vagina was stretched to the absolute limit with black cock. It was lubricating like mad, and my own loins were tensing and throbbing, deep inside. Another orgasm was stirring up quickly.

He withdrew from me as I came violently, crying out in anguish, my body jerking and lurching about. Once again, I spouted several gushes of girly-juice. His sperm shot everywhere! Over my tits, face and shoulders. Spurt after spurt. I thought it would go on for ever, splashing all over me. Absolutely mind boggling!

'You ejaculate like a man, Delia. How do you manage to do that? It's incredibly erotic!'

'Just over excitement', I gasped. 'I've always come like that! It's messy, though!'

When I had recovered my breath, it was time for the Prince to cram his cock into me again. The guards watched as he eased his weapon between the sopping lips. I gazed transfixed at the shaft pushing the labia apart to force an entry into the passage.

This time, I was able to concentrate on the sheer bliss of being fucked by such a monster, with my vagina now more used to being fully stretched, but I was glad he didn't try to penetrate to the hilt. He fucked with deliberate strokes, his eyes glued to the sight of my fanny being violated. He was in heaven!

When the Prince started to climax, the thrusts got more erratic, but I was able to take it! And what a climax! His second coming splattered over my face and tits. Phew! What a session!

He presented me with a lovely ring, which I have treasured ever since.

'Wow!' It was Enid who was entranced by the story who expressed everybody's thoughts at the end of the story.

'And was that it?' Julie asked.

'That certainly was, yes!'

'Is it true, Jake, that black men treasure a white blonde woman.'

'Just as white blonde women treasure a large black cock!' he laughed.

'Mmm! We certainly treasure yours!'

Before breaking up to prepare for lunch, Laurie begged Mary to perform her banana trick for them. Some of the guests hadn't seen it and Laurie had been telling them about the interest shown in it the previous week. 

Mary remonstrated but the general encouraging noises from the others eventually won her over. For this trick she had to be half lying on an ottoman with her legs wide apart, knees held high by willing hands. After removing her skirt and underwear, there was no shortage of offers to assist Mary into this position.

Her waist was narrow, spreading to wide voluptuous hips and a perfectly shaped bottom. Her groin was shaved clean except for a carefully coiffured covering of light hair, shaped into a circle to accentuate the swelling of the pronounced mound leading to the pink clitoral hood and prominent bud. Between her permanently parted thighs, thrust apart by thick puffed lips, clean shaven, themselves pushed open by the determination of the inner crinkled fleshy lips to show through.

What she was about to perform involved Anne part peeling a greenish banana - so that it had a firm fruit - and inserting the fruit into Mary's vagina. Anne selected a large banana, peeling it to almost half its length before slipping the white fruit between Mary's genital lips. Using the power of her inner muscles, Mary sucked the fruit inside her, very slowly and with great concentration, whilst Anne carefully peeled the remaining skin.

Eventually, the whole fruit was completely engulfed inside her, the lips closing tightly.

whilst the others stood round staring at the disappearing fruit. This called for much urging from the onlookers until, after Anne held high the empty skin with a victorious wave, everyone applauded with enthusiasm.

After the men had examined her minutely to make sure there was no outward sign of the fruit, Mary now relaxed her muscles a little. Coated with her nectar, the banana began to emerge.

'Now, gentlemen, a bite of honey-coated banana for each of you,' Julie said.

The men bit off sections of it as it inched its way out. The trick aroused astonishment, laughter and lust. Jake took the last piece but kept his tongue slowly encircling Mary's puffed lips and prominent bud. Her loins began shaking and tensing until, eventually, she cried out in release as an orgasm crashed over her, to a laughing joyous shout from Susan, and general applause and words of praise all round.

'Succulent hors d'oeuvre!' George suggested.

'Very tasty,' Jake agreed.

Julie laughed. 'And now prepare for lunch proper!'



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 16



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's was of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards. 

Chapter Sixteen: Delia's wartime sex fantasy

as the six couples were relaxing over cocktails, the hostess, Julie, turned the conversation to conditions at home during the war years, particularly in finding food. She explained something about the rations in wartime England, though most of the guests remembered something of them, particularly the lack of sweets and fruit..

'Each person was allowed one egg per week, if you recall, with two ounces of butter and four of margarine. Members of my family used to bargain with each other, swapping their rations - perhaps their butter ration in exchange for the jam ration.'

The guests exchanged memories of those frugal days. For lunch, Anne had even arranged a second world-war menu. A starter of prune juice, followed be piece of toast scraped with margarine, with a poached egg on it. A cup of tea accompanied the meal, which ended with a piece of carrot cake.

Afterwards, the guests had been asked to wear a topcoat, or raincoat - nothing else - and assemble in the lounge. Julie explained the purpose.

'During the war, most husbands, boyfriends and young men had been called up to serve their country, leaving wives and girlfriends sitting at home, alone and frustrated. Masturbation is okay, but there are times when a girl wants a thick cock inside her. There was no street lighting. Everywhere was pitch black, unless there happened to be a moon. So when the frustrations became too intense, some of them would roam the streets in search of cock.'

Anne chimed in. 'There was always the cinema, of course, where they could hope to meet up with some soldier on leave, or students whose call up to the forces had been deferred until they were twenty-one. There were also reserved occupations, like coal miners, and others whose work was essential for the war effort.'

'They had the pick of the women left at home, lucky people!'

'The back row of the cinema was usually full of couples kissing eagerly, and feeling up each other. In many cases it was their first exciting time of having their vulvas felt by a man! But the usherettes were told to keep an eye open for the more active couples, by shining their torches on them.' 

'Spoil sports!' Laurie laughed, remembering the many times he had felt the breasts and vulvas of his girlfriends on the back row, and soaked their handkerchiefs with a copious helping of his daily sperm allowance to the accompaniment of muffled groans.

'A handful of hot sperm was often the outcome, even so, and a stifled orgasm. If you happened to see a fluttering handkerchief on the back row, you knew why it was wanted.'

Julie went on. 'The local park was often used as the best place for illicit meetings. People would go there with the sole object of getting some sexual excitement - even getting laid in the dark, if you weren't too fussy about the owner of the cock - or pussy, for that matter. Besides, if you were desperate, it didn't cost anything. So, if you ventured into the park after dark, that was what others assumed you wanted. And you usually got it.

'The form of dress was a raincoat, or light coat, depending on the weather, and little else. Perhaps a blouse for the women, or a pair of trousers for the men. So, now you know why you're dressed in this fashion. I want all of you to got into the lounge except Delia. She is to be the frustrated woman wanting sex. Any sex will do! With anyone!

Delia was the very beautiful popular TV presenter. She could appear rather arrogant and stuck-up, but that was only to hide her inner shyness. In the studios she was often called 'the duchess'. Her large breasts and narrow waist had all the men ogling. Julie had a whim to violate that lovely figure - treat it with utter contempt. She hoped the others would have similar lack of respect.

The memory of her encounters in the dark had Julie already feeling randy again. That unmistakable dragging ache deep in her secret female passage begged for attention. Now turned thirty, Julie had grown into womanhood during the years following the war, with men coming home from active service, some to find their wives with babies they knew nothing about.

It seemed that with each succeeding year, Julie hungered for sex more than ever, worshipping the proud, erect staff of warm male flesh and, beneath it, that lovely pair of plums she loved to fondle. Lovely hot prick and squidgy balls! Hmmmm! The bigger the better!

Julie had a powerful appetite for sex. And she enjoyed the feeling of power it gave her over others. She had grown up to adore her cunt! It gave her unlimited joy and pleasure. The cluster of damp flaps of flesh, crushed together between her thighs, pushing aside the heavy, outer lips guarding the entrance to the dark inner folds of her cunt. Some people tried to avoid using the 'C' word, thinking it vulgar, but she liked it. Cunt! It was old fashioned and basic, falling easily from the lips. 

Cunt, cock and fuck expressed Julie's taste for the baser instincts. Why bother with the many euphemisms for the basics of nature? She thought to herself that there was no other fulfilment - either mental or physical - to compare with fucking. Which was why she and Robert had developed their business of supplying the rich and famous with an undercover hide-away to indulge in their sexual hang-ups on occasional weekends, away from the glare of publicity.

It was during Robert's theatrical directing days that Julie had first met him. They formed an immediate rapport at a sexy after-show party. Robert had sought and found her heavy breasts, with their hard, elongated nipples. Irresistible! They had found a spare bedroom where they indulged in much oral foreplay before fucking hard. After that, they fucked at every opportunity, eventually getting together permanently.

Leaving the uncertainty of the theatre of the sixties, Robert found an isolated roadhouse. They developed the inn into a popular, comfortable hotel which became fashionable for the upper class and wealthy middle class. It could not be regarded as a high class brothel, since they catered for couples who wished to share their fondness for open sex with others of similar interests. Anne and Mary, however, two well endowed women who worked in the hotel, were often useful in making up the numbers where necessary, or indulge in threesomes with the clients if asked. The host and hostess were also at hand for wife swapping or foursomes. Julie found having sex with wealthy - even titled - women and additional turn-on.

Sex was a great leveler! The girls working in the dark mills were as able to enjoy the fruits of sex just as much as the princesses and film stars, though perhaps in less grand surroundings. Big breasts or small ones made no matter. Fat or thin. In the throes of orgasms, who cares about the wallpaper?

The many shapes and sizes of women's vulvas fascinated Julie. She particularly enjoyed mutual cunnilingus in the sixty-nine position, whilst watching a man's hard cock above her face, thrusting in and out of the other woman's cunt, driving between the wet labia, whilst she herself nibbled and licked the clitoris, until the woman bucked and jerked in a series of orgasmic spasms. If accompanied by a female ejaculation splashing all over her face, that only added to the excitement!

The guests always came back to the inn for more at regular intervals. Discreet and satisfying.

So, after lunch on the fifth day, wearing a raglan style of tweed coat and nothing else, Julie invited the guests to follow Anne into the large lounge area. Delia watched as the others drifted into the room, laughing and giggling, speculating on what might happen. She had always been turned on by the thought of having sex with a stranger in the park. Someone who wouldn't know of her celebrity status. Just a simple fuck of nature, doing what men and women were designed to do by nature.

Once inside the room, Anne asked the guests to take up a position, but not to move about, letting Delia do the moving. In that way, they would know that it was Delia they were touching, rather than another guest. With the snow still piled up outside the windows, and the curtains tightly drawn, the room was totally dark.

A tape deck in the corner of the room was playing popular dance music of the time, very faintly.

A blindfolded Delia was brought into the room by Julie who closed the door behind them before removing the blindfold, then moving to one side, standing quite still.

Total darkness! There was an eerie pause before Delia eased her way into the centre of the room. Mingled with the faint dance music was the sound of breathing. She felt curiously nervous, and rather excited at the thought of being molested in the dark. Her nipples were stiff and swollen from the contact with the silk lining of her coat. She felt a knot of tension in her belly and a dry throat. Total darkness can be scary.

There was now the distant droning sound of aircraft with the pop, pop, pop of anti-aircraft guns. They were supposedly in the middle of an air-raid not too far away. The crunch of exploding bombs was intermingled with the aircraft noise. It all felt so realistic.

Suddenly Delia sensed someone close to her. Perhaps it was the faint sound of breathing that caught her attention. She remained quite still, holding her breath. Her nerves were fully alert, her mouth dry. When her arm was touched, Delia gasped and tensed. The fingers trailed up the outside of the coat to the shoulder, exploring the contours, reaching her neck. She didn't move. She couldn't!

Having found the front of the coat, the hand slipped inside it, discovering the softness of her large pendulous breasts. It began feeling her, probing the stiffened nipple, fondling the delicate flesh, whilst another hand found her trembling belly. Caressing fingers slowly teased the pubic hair as they slipped down between her thighs, eager to find the centre of her being, to cup the swollen vulva in its palm.

As her leaking genitals were squeezed hard and carefully probed by the hand, Delia held her breath, enquiring fingers seeking out the labia and the vaginal opening. It was exciting, and somehow dangerous. Her loins fluttered as two fingers forced their way into the most private part of her being, fucking her roughly and avidly. She was being violated! Lips latched on to her left teat, sucking and chewing hungrily at the distended nipple.

Delia eventually decided to respond by feeling for the intruder's own body. Her fingers came upon the buttons of the coat, slipping inside the gap. There she felt the soft belly and the contours of a woman's groin. Disappointed by what she had found, it was not what she was hoping for. Although enjoying the genital attention she was getting, after a brief feel of the fleshy labia, Delia was now anxious to find a stiff cock. Withdrawing herself from the woman, she moved away, suddenly bumping into another body.

A pair of arms immediately encircled her, drawing her close. Her coat was pulled opened and she felt a naked body press against hers. A hard cock pushed into the flesh of her belly. It was hard and stiff. Just what she was looking for! Lips eagerly latched onto a stiff nipple, as the cheeks of her bottom were grasped tightly, kneaded eagerly by a bunch of large fingers.

As the man bent his knees, easing them between her thighs to prize them apart, Delia was eager to get the cock inside her. The man thrust his cock against the groin until it found the cleft of her warm, dribbling vulva. Delia's loins jerked at the touch of cock, anxious to embrace it. She threw her arms round his waist and drew him hard into her. The cock nudged at the folds of warm flesh, into the deep crevice, pushing its way into the willing passage.

A voice whispered in her ear. 'Slut! You just want cock, don't you? You're gagging for it! You're a cock maniac!'

Delia didn't recognise the voice! Had a stranger indeed got into the room? She hoped so, gasping with joy and relief as the shaft penetrated her to the very depths of her mystery, before starting to jerk hard and fast. This was crazy! An unknown cock shagging her like a battering ram. Panting and grunting, her own loins moved to the same rhythm, encouraging the invader to even greater effort. It was sheer heaven!

'Come on, come on!' she whispered urgently. 'Fuck me hard! Harder!'

'You asked for it baby!' and the lunging got more savage.

The gasping in her ears became irregular. Her own muscles were tensing and twitching with lust, her vagina hungry for relief, willing the climax to reach up into her belly. A loud cry, with lurching loins announced the arrival of the man's climax as he withdrew. Delia felt a gush of warm liquid on her belly. And the man stepped back from her as suddenly as he had taken her.

With her arousal now inflamed, another cock was what she desperately wanted to satisfy the craving in her belly. The deep throbbing ache in her loins cried out for a thick shaft of stiff flesh to penetrate to the full.

Delia thought she could hear the sound of another couple fucking. The whimpers and grunts were unmistakable. She eased her way further into the room until another pair of hands grasped her arm. She was twisted round roughly. A pair of lips crushed her mouth as a hand grabbed her breasts in a cruel squeeze, the other drawing her close to the hard body. She forgot the other couple.

It was Delia who now clawed with desperation inside the coat of her assailant, searching for the shaft of rigid flesh. Finding it, she jerked and dragged at it roughly, wanting to feel it inside her urgently. Her loins ached for it. To feel the stiff cock enter into her body, sliding in and out of her vagina, thirsting for sex. Pulling open the front of the man's raincoat, she hoisted one leg over his waist to get his cock close to her open vagina. She was breathing hard.

'Come on! Yes, yes, yes! Give it to me!' she begged in a loud whisper.

With her arms now round his neck, Delia hoisted herself up, sitting over his loins, allowing the cock to penetrate her willing body. With both legs wrapped round the man's waist, she pushed down on it, before lifting herself up, then bouncing hard on the sturdy shaft. Sheer heaven! Except for the faint sound of airplanes and gunfire mingled with panting breath, there was nothing to concentrate on other than the hard cock crashing into her vagina. She grunted with each push, as the shaft forced air from her lungs.

From the direction of the sounds, Julie judged the place where Delia was busy fucking. Hidden in the pocket of Julie's coat was a cucumber. A large one! Groping her way to the sound of the sexual activity, she came across Delia lurching up and down. Lifting the hem of Delia's coat with one hand, she felt for the bouncing bottom, stroking the inner thighs as the cock plunged in and out. Her honey juices had dribbled over the cleft of the cheeks of the bottom.

Then, finding the soaking opening to her other passage, Julie inserted the cucumber in one swift push. Deep into her gut! She felt Delia give a huge lunge, yelping with surprise, as a stiff shaft now filled each passage. Julie took much wicked pleasure in cramming the gorgeous Delia's ass with cucumber, ramming it in and out in rhythm with the cock. She secretly hoped that Delia was in some discomfort, if not pain with it!

But for Delia, already reaching the delirious heights of inner tension, the sudden agonising sensation of penetration in her rear passage drove her to the very peak of ecstasy. She screamed out in relief, the orgasm exploding in her belly.

'Oh, God!' she screamed. 'Fuck, fuck fuck! Argh! God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!'

Still crying obscenities, she tumbled from the grasp of her partner onto her back, her whole body thrashing in uncontrollable convulsions. Both invaders slipped from her as the spasms continued to rack her loins.

But immediately, Delia felt another body fall on her. Hands felt for her quaking legs, pulling them apart harshly by the knees. Fingers grappled for her groin, feeling for the hot entrance. Still breathless from the exhausting orgasm, another stiff shaft forced its way into her tender vagina, starting to shag it hard and mercilessly. Almost too fatigued to take in what was happening to her, she found herself almost smothered by a bunch of warm flesh pressing down on her mouth and nose. A slippery clutch of sloppy pulp ground against her face.

Julie was relishing rubbing her cunt over Delia's face. Smearing her sticky honey over the TV pin-up's nose, lips and cheeks. She wanted to humiliate this haughty blonde. She squeezed her bladder hard, trying to wring out some urine into Delia's mouth. Pressing her vulva hard over the wide open mouth, trying to gasp for air, a spurt of golden liquid escaped, then another, almost choking Delia who started to gag.

The thought of this beauty being violated by her cunt brought on an orgasmic shudder. After a third spurt, the gasping Julie moved away quickly. Delia mustn't know it was she who had peed into her mouth.

Then Delia's face was unexpectedly slapped. It stung!

'Whore!' was blurted into her ear. 'Bloody whore! You need a lesson!'

Her nipples were brutally bitten. She cried out in pain. The cock withdrew. Delia felt she was being assaulted, twisted over by her legs, her buttocks slapped and punched. Grabbed by her hair, her head was vehemently pulled back until she was forced to hold herself up herself on her arms. With her face now looking half upwards, her mouth open, fingers explored her face and lips before she felt a hard slap on her cheek, then the other.

'Whore! Whore! Whore!' The chant was taken up by others.

Delia's face was slapped hard on the face, right and left several times. She screamed 

'Don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me,' she begged.

Then a cock was pushed into brutally into her mouth. It fucked her throat cruelly, almost choking her with its intensity. Her head was spinning. She was gasping for breath.

'Whore! Whore! Whore!' The chant was taken up again.

Quite suddenly, she was released. She collapsed onto the floor panting for air. She felt giddy. She couldn't hear properly. Her head was in turmoil. Hands took hold of her, hauling her up to her knees.

Silence! A torchlight was snapped on. It blinded her before the beam moved around. On to her large bruised tits. Delia was aware of being surrounded by men, all with coats hanging open, the beam of the torch flashing over their hard erections. In the pale reflection of the torch beam against the pale skins, Delia could just male out their faces staring down at her. She wondered which of them had punched her in the face.

The women had moved behind the men. Putting their arms round the men's waists, they took hold of their rigid cocks, stroking them casually. As they did, Anne moved behind Delia, taking her head in both hands, yanking it back. Delia was apprehensive. She was being treated roughly once more. What next, she wondered?




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 16



The women began jerking off the cocks. The torch beam rested on one stiff shaft. Delia stared at the jerking hand, studying the head of the cock in front of her eyes. It looked familiar. Someone started to clap lightly in rhythm to the jerking.

Others joined in as the rhythm got faster and faster, until suddenly, a jet of thick cream struck Delia's cheek, followed swiftly by a second, then a third. She screwed up her eyes. The spurts splattered on her nose, her eyelids and chin as the clapping turned into applause, until the seven gushes had been ejected. The warm juices dribbled slowly down her face.

The torch beam moved round to light on another cock. The shaft closed in on her, as the woman behind it pushed it forward into her face. The clapping started up again. The jerking got faster in sync with the clapping, Delia found herself anxious for the sperm to erupt. She was fascinated by sperm. She loved to see it ejaculate from the end of the cock. That breath-stopping split-second when the eye of the cock dilated before the seed burst out. She felt a hand reach between her thighs, cupping the leaking vulva. Two middle fingers started to stimulate her clitoris, rubbing hard. It had a woman's touch.

The jerking of the third cock seemed to go on for ever until a grunt told her that the explosion was due. To a round of applause and whoops of delight, the white starchy goo showered over Delia, adding to the pools already settling into the hollows of her face. Still her clitoris was rubbed as she counted each spray spurting into her hair, over her shoulders and into her open mouth. But before she could savour it, the torch moved away, to light on a third cock.

This cock was already being jerked quickly. It was lunging and thrusting. A gasp. Whilst Delia was licking the sperm from her lips, the eye of the cock dilated and whoosh! Hot sperm gushed over Delia's mouth and chin. This one didn't spurt. It bubbled and oozed, like a volcanic lava flow. Thick creamy liquid. She examined the sperm issuing in spasms from the little crack until the torch moved away. Her loins were now in turmoil, but she was too engrossed in the jerking cocks to pay much attention to her own interests.

The fourth cock was caught in the torch beam, being stroked to the rhythm of the clapping until it, too, splashed its load into Delia's face. And the fifth and sixth cocks followed in fairly quick succession, until Delia's face, now in the spotlight of the torch, was streaming with pools and rivers of sperm. Two hands started to spread the juices, massaging Delia's face like face-cream, with the copious supply, down her neck and over her heavy breasts. The sticky hands smeared the men's emissions all over her upper body.

The smell of the sperm, the feel of the silky juices on her skin, the rubbing of fingers in her vulva, encouraged the clenching of her own muscles. Deep inside, Delia was clawing with a rising wave of lust. It swirled round her loins like a whirlpool. As it rose to the surface, it brought her to another orgasm, with her own ejaculation filing the palm cupping her vulva.

As her spasms quietened down, her own emission was slapped against her tits, kneading it into her nipples. She fell backwards to the ground, humiliated and exhausted, still illuminated by the beam of the torch.

She saw a pair of buttocks lowered over her breasts. Loose labia dangled from between the cheeks. Fingers parted them to allow a golden stream to spurt onto her sperm-smeared breasts. The loins above her moved upwards for the stream to dribble onto her nose and lips. Short bursts which trickled into her hair and her mouth, over her neck before soaking into the coat she was wearing. Then the body moved away, leaving her covered in sperm, cunt juice and urine.

After the curtains were opened and the light spilled in, Julie lifted Delia from the floor, slipping the soaking coat from her back and wrapping her in a warm bathrobe. Anne passed her a glass of brandy and helped her into a chair. The others were silent as they helped to clear away the tarpaulin covering the carpet, returning the room to its normal condition.

'It wasn't unusual,' Julie commented, ' for women to be roughly violated rather than just molested. They went into the parks for sex. Some got more than they bargained for. I remember being told by a friend that she had got beaten up by three men. At least, she thought they were all men. One might have been a woman.

'In fact she went to the police to complain, but they told her she deserved all she got if she went into the park unaccompanied.'

'No sympathy in those days!'

'Some men had no respect for girls who openly invited them to fuck her,' Laurie added. 'They certainly did that, but might be so disgusted by the event, they worked off their anger on the woman physically. They were sluts as far as the men were concerned.'

Delia smiled weakly. 'It must have been a terrifying experience. I was scared myself, I can tell you. But I do enjoy playing the slut, rather than hiding behind a facade of good breeding in front of the cameras. Don't ask me why! Is my face bruised?' she asked.

'No, darling,' Martin assured her. 'Reddened and a bit swollen, but that'll settle down in an hour or two. Come on, we'll run a hot bath for you.'

'Okay, everyone. Relaxing time. See you all at dinner.'



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 17



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's related a tale of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards. During the afternoon, adventures in the park during the dark hours gave Delia a taste of sex with strangers.

Chapter Seventeen: The Actor's Tale

After dinner, the guests made their way into the lounge where coffee was ready with mint chocolates and liqueurs. The brandy decanter and port were placed on the centre table for the guests to help themselves. After everyone had settled down with their chosen partner, Julie invited Jake to tell his story.

Jake was an actor, a milk chocolate coloured young man of African origin, with a strong-looking forward thrust of his thighs. All the women guests had sampled the delight of his powerful, handsome cock sliding in and out of their well-lubricated vaginas, and some had tasted the copious emission from it. Enid in particular, had savoured the delicious sperm, rolling it round her cheeks and under her tongue, before allowing it to trickle down her throat with a cat-like smile.

With a friendly face, those smoky dark eyes coloured people often have, close-cropped curly hair and a firm jaw, he was fully relaxed. His six foot frame, seemingly all legs and arms, lounging all over the cushions of the settee. He glanced round the couples as they settled together. It was incredible to think that, since he had become stranded with the company manager, Emma, in this isolated, high-class roadhouse, he had screwed all the women there with the exception of Gertie. She was curled up beside him on a settee, her left breast visible in the top of the gown she was wearing.

Having inadvertently gate-crashed an exclusive week-end orgy party, with couples from the society pages of the glossy magazines, he couldn't believe his good fortune!

Delia, a popular TV presenter, was sitting with the host, Robert. It was sheer heaven for Jake to have had a wonderful encounter with her body. She was so lovely, it was a real joy to have ploughed her dripping vulva. Such a lot of love juice, he remembered, and a violent female ejaculation during orgasm. The hostess, Julie, was giggling with Martin. She had been after Jake all the time. A very active lover indeed, with a great line in cock-sucking. Beautiful breasts - soft and pliable.

The best-selling novelist, red-haired Susan, had laughed and giggled through three hours of sex with Jake. She had long, pointed breasts, with heavy nipples resting on her rounded belly. He discovered that her plump figure had a shaved vulva, apart from a tuft of ginger hair above the clitoral hood. She loved games and role-playing. Fucking was a whole heap of fun for Susan. The government minister, Laurie, would have a great time with her.

Enid, the stockbroker millionairess, was chatting earnestly with George. To look at her, one would think she had little interest in sex. Doll-like features with rimmed spectacles, she looked more like a school mistress. Small framed with breasts to match. But she adored being fucked, which she did with much enthusiasm, ending in earth shattering orgasms. Jake had never found any woman whose orgasms were quite so noisy and violent. Her body thrashed around for ages during the spasms. Then she'd start all over again!

Jake's dark brown skin was taught over his noble face and his dark serious eyes reflecting the warm glow of the corner table-lamp as the guests, making themselves comfortable, settled into silence, ready for him to relate his story. 

This was it.

Many generations ago, amongst the tribes of central Africa, there was one called the Mbobo tribe. It has long ago ceased to exist, but it was a peace-loving race, ruled by a firm despotic king who was also their chief Witch Doctor, capable of weaving spells and striking fear into the hearts of those who opposed him.

He was a large, handsome figure, with decorations in his pierced flaring nostrils and a flamboyant head-dress. When dressed in his formal Witch Doctor garb he made a fearsome sight. His wife was a tall, dignified lady, with full 

breasts of a polished ebony colour, wearing row upon row of multi-coloured bangles on both forearms, showing her position in society. Her skirt was made of a fine hand-woven woollen fabric, exquisitely embroidered in coloured threads.

She was the daughter of a King of a mighty neighbouring tribe, the marriage having been arranged to protect the peace between their peoples. The Queen and her Witch Doctor King, had an only child. A princess daughter, Swala who, not surprisingly coming from such princely parents, was a woman of great beauty and greatly admired by the whole tribe.

Her face was noble and serene, her head was held high, no doubt helped by the strings of beads worn around the neck. Her sleek body was firm with high proud breasts of glowing dark brown skin. The nipples sat like dark cups on top of the substantial breasts, rather than at the lower extreme, their tips the texture of large dried apricots, which would swell to resemble ripe plums when aroused.

The name for the male organ was Rnami, and of the female organ the Talma. These were neither clinical names nor euphemisms. There was no equivalent to our coarse names for the genitalia. Rnami simply meant proud or firm. And, as you may have guessed, Talma meant eternal bliss. The language is now out of use since the tribe became extinct. There were few sexual taboos in the tribe.

Young maids having reached their eighteenth birthday were expected, indeed encouraged, to experiment with the youths until the time came for marriage, though actual penetration of the girls was prohibited before that event. Punishment was severe, but there were other means of relieving the young of their frustrations. Highly developed manual and oral techniques were most often used.

After marriage, total loyalty to the intended spouse was expected, except on special ceremonial occasions when communal entertainment involving the enjoyment of sex was held publicly by the whole tribe. There was an exception to this rule. Whilst there was nothing immoral or obscene about sex in the Mbobo tribe, by tradition, the Witch Doctor had the choice of deflowering each girl as she reached her eighteenth birthday, as part of the public birthday celebration. It was a ritual designed to bless the girl with fertility when she eventually married.

The Witch Doctor, however, might choose to penetrate the girl merely to break her hymen - or derma - the ceremony of Patalma, named after the Goddess Patalma, the keeper of the gates to eternal bliss. The girl's parents could opt out of the actual penetration part of the ritual, using instead the rnamidu. This was a large carved ivory baton with mystical qualities, shaped like a small rnami, hence its name, used to break the hymen and so preserve the girls' virginity for marriage.

For this they would expect to pay the King two calves or three sheep or goats. The exact payment would be negotiated, the amount depending on the beauty and desirability of the girl which became a measure of her worth as a wife. The girls always looked forward with excitement to the ceremony - it was their coming of age, after all. The day they left their childhood behind to become a woman.

The young men of the tribe were mostly tall, with muscular limbs developed by frequent physical exercise in hunting, and competitive games they all enjoyed taking part in. For the young men, the Queen had the traditional option of taking a young man's virginity, also on his eighteenth birthday, should she wish. But she could select a substitute for the ritual after the ceremonial washing, oiling and decorating of the erect penis.

In order that the young man might not lose his self-control during these preliminaries, a special balm was applied, which maintained his erection but calmed his enthusiasm. The Queen usually reserved her own ceremonial right for those endowed with an unusually large rnami. This took the form of a symbolic penetration, but made the youth very proud to have been selected for her attention. Such a youth became very eligible for marriage.

Otherwise the youth would be initiated into manhood orally by a single woman, preferably a cousin or a widowed aunt , always withdrawing in good time to make sure that the final spectacle of his ejaculation could be seen by all.

After the ceremony, old ritual dances to the rhythm of drums, involving penetration of the talma - or amicatalma as they called it - between several people would take place before the Witch Doctor and his Queen, for the entertainment of the villagers. 

The princess Swala was, of course, different from the rest of the village society. On her eighteenth birthday, the King would choose a consort for his daughter. At that time, she would perform with her consort an elaborate form of the Patalma ceremony in a ritual festival involving much food and drink, and dancing of the youth of the tribe, lasting well into the night.

For this ceremony, the special balm was used to equip all the young men of the tribe with erections, which would then last for several hours. This was done to avoid any embarrassment of those youths who were unable to control their rnami during the erotic dance with the maidens. That would have been humiliating for the youths in question, so they were all able to sport their hardness without fear of ejaculation.

No-one, parent or child, was disconcerted with this sight. It was tradition. And so was the painful ritual of circumcision, when the young men reached puberty, a ritual they could not escape. The youths were removed from their family by the elders, had their foreskins cut off, and other mutilations of the shaft of the rnami. Various ointments were used to help the healing process before the youth was returned to the village, a fully fledged man, proud of his scars.

These scars, when the rnami became swollen, would form hard ridges along the shaft, giving additional pleasure to his wife. Insufficient pleasure during intercourse by the wife was considered grounds for divorce.

The King of the Mbobo had selected for his daughter the handsome son, Dwindali, of another tribal ruler some five days march away. A provisional contract was made and dowry agreed if the prince in question was happy to accept the young bride. What a celebration there would be! What feasting and revelry would be shared by every member of both tribes, for the young Prince would bring many guests with him and, when he returned to his village with his new bride, many of the villagers would return with them to continue festivities.

But one day, a young stranger entered the camp. As all strangers, he was made welcome, was offered food and drink. He was a tall and very attractive male hunter. The children and girls of the village came out to look at the stranger, fascinated by his appearance and physique. The princess Swala also saw him and immediately fell in love with him, whilst he, being unaware of her status, found her equally appealing.

After he had drunk his fill, and shared their simple mid-day meal, the princess and the stranger disappeared together into the princess' hut. One of the elders, however, concerned that the taboo of the princess might be in jeopardy, hurried to the Witch Doctor, her father, who was taking his afternoon rest. He told him of the occurrence. The Witch Doctor was mightily troubled by the news, took up his blow-pipe and some special darts, and strode to the Princess' hut, followed by his Queen and the elder.

They found Swala with her body pressed against the young warrior her thighs parted, her arms hanging round the stranger's neck, kissing his face and murmuring sighs of love. Hearing the bead curtain move, she swung round to see who had entered her hut uninvited. The warrior, not surprisingly, was already sporting a stiff rnami of fine proportions and the intruders were struck dumb in a mixture of rage and astonishment.

Swala ran to the King to beg forgiveness, knowing that she had broken the taboo and must be punished. The King in his anger had raised the blow-pipe to his lips and blew. The young warrior was confused by the interruption but the special dart projected by the Witch Doctor, struck him on the neck, freezing the young man in his movement almost straight away.

The Witch Doctor flung his distraught daughter to the straw covered floor and, before she could speak, bent over her with a phial of green liquid which he emptied between her parted lips with an angry growl. 

He lifted his face and intoned with great bitterness

'For this foul deed which thou hast done today Thou'lt roam the world a vile repulsive witch. This binding spell with thee shall stay Til lover's kisses part thy slimy ditch.'

As he spoke the others drew back in fear at his terrible wrath, watching as, before their very eyes, the shape of the young beautiful girl begin to change. Her frame heaved and shook. A hump erupted on her left shoulder and both arms withered from the joint. Hair grew on the back of her hands and her long elegant fingers curled into claws with long talon-like nails.

Worst of all, when she looked up, her noble face had changed completely to a flat gorilla-like nose, hairy cheeks and warts. Sunken cracked lips oozed saliva over toothless gums. Her eyes were a rheumy yellow, red rimmed with large hooded lids devoid of lashes. Her well-groomed thick, lustrous hair had turned to a thin, wiry and tousled mass. Her bold, proud breasts slowly sagged until they rested, empty unshapely bags, onto the swelling wrinkled belly.

She looked with astonishment into her father's face.

He turned to his queen. 'Give her food and gold before we banish her from the village.'

The Queen raised her daughter to her feet and took her out onto the village common where members of the tribe stood in fear and apprehension. One of the elders came forward with a shoulder bag made from deer skin, filled with bread, fresh fruit and vegetables, whilst the queen handed her a bag of gold.

She was then taken to the northern path out of the village, where she ambled away, in shame and in fear of her life. She didn't look back.

When Swala had left the hut, the Witch Doctor turned to the spell-bound young man. He took a phial of violet liquid from his cloak and drained its contents into the young man's vacant eyes, intoning the spell.

'Nor memory nor sight shall thou retain But tramp the world with only dog as guide. This spell shall shut thy sight and freeze thy brain 'Till thou be kissed by lips of virgin bride.'

The sightless young man was led, groping before him, from the hut, given a long rough staff and a small dog on a simple lead. The elders hung a bag of provender round his neck and guided him to the southern edge of the village. There, they pointed him in the direction of the path into the forest where he groped slowly, feeling the way forward with his staff, led by the dog.

There was much sorrow and grieving in the village that their beautiful princess, who had everything to look forward to and a rich life before her, should have brought herself this dishonour.

Swala wandered through bush and swamps, moving from village to village. When her food ran out, she lived from the fruit of the land and from trapping the occasional rabbit for a special treat. She was shunned, sometimes stoned, by the children and villagers alike. When she tried to buy food and shelter, she was stoned and her gold stolen.

She was chased and threatened by vicious dogs. Some of the older villagers took pity on her and gave her scraps of food. She begged these villagers to trust her, telling them that she was under a spell, and promising their young men riches beyond their wildest dreams if they would but kiss her drooling, toothless lips. She would intone a simple rhyme. 

'Who kisseth me, the dew from off my lips Shall get him beauteous maid both rich and true, For gold beyond their wildest dreams outstrips To live fore'er in luxury anew.'

This suggestion raised great merriment among the youths who mocked her, struck her, and tugged on her long, leathery dugs. They cried 

'Who kisseth you shall poisoned be And live with horrible witch. Sunshine shall he never see But always lie in swampy ditch.'

One desperate, drunken man, who must have been half-blind, on the outskirts of a village, tried to interfere with her talma. Before he could thrust his half-swollen rnami into her, the secretions burnt into his skin, his swelling shrivelled and he yelled in pain. Had he been more sober, he might have beaten her, but she scampered away quickly to hide in the bushes. 

Three years and more of this harsh life had passed when the disfigured hag, sitting at the side of the dusty track, munching on a crust begged of a worker returning from the fields, saw a blind man, led by a mongrel dog, stumbling down the lane. The tall emaciated man was covered with grime and dust, his shoulders bowed with fatigue.

The dog stopped as he saw the hag and began to snarl at her.

'I mean no harm stranger,' cried the hag, 'call your dog to silence and come share my crust of bread. You look in need of food.'

He quieted the dog who continued to growl but kept his distance from the hideous hag.

'You are very kind lady,' he replied. 'I shall accept your kind offer. As you see, I am blind and was unaware of your presence.'

As they munched their stale bread, Swala slowly realised that, since the man was blind he was unaware of her repulsive appearance. In spite of her changed appearance, Swala's voice had remained low and soft. He may be persuaded to break the cruel spell.

She propositioned him. 'Good sir,' she said, 'some three years past I was, I fear, placed under a cruel spell which made my appearance unwholesome to my fellow men. The spell, I was told, may be broken by a kiss. All my worldly goods and beauty shall be his that breaks the spell.'

The man replied, 'Dear lady, you have been good to me this day, and kindly too. Your voice, though tired, has a soft and tender tone. I will tell you that I, too, was placed under an awesome spell. I was struck with blindness, so I know the pain that you must feel. Allow me to make bold with you, good lady, and kiss your tender lips.'

But, to her surprise, the blind man felt for the hem of her ragged skirt, lifted it and groped beneath its folds with his stubby, grimy fingers. They encountered the soft, secret place between her thighs. Could he have but seen what lay there, he would have beheld the ripe, plump vulva of a young virgin girl, with pouting inner lips, nestling between the skinny thighs of the wrinkled hag.

The startled witch parted her thighs without a thought, allowing the grubby fingers to probe her much-neglected talma. A half-remembered excitement raced through her mind. A turmoil overcame her inner belly like that of a butterfly fluttering within her. The blind man's quivering fingers felt the warm nectar oozing from the fleshy lips of her talma.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 17



With great sensitivity, he pushed his head beneath her grimy skirt and applied his cracked lips to the sweet dew, rolling the tip of his dry tongue between the moistened lips and over the honeyed bud at the joining of the soft inner lips. The witch, numbed by this sudden turn of events, lay back on the grassy slope and wrapped her thighs around his head. As the tongue continued to tease her, she felt a mounting tide of agitation spread out from the very nerve centre of her talma button and wash over her in waves until it intensified into a shattering climax.

It was as though a clap of thunder had burst. An explosion of multi-coloured shards made her cry out in exquisite pain as she squeezed her eyes tight at the brightness of the flashing eruption. In her frenzy, she took the man's face in her hands and kissed his lips with gratitude and fervour before pushing it back between her thighs.

It was now the man's turn to be amazed. A milky, mistiness washed over his eyes. The blurring cleared rapidly until he gazed in rapturous wonder at the soft flesh of the talma laid bare in front of him. A ripe, dark fruit, soft and juicy. Placing a hand beneath each twin orb beneath her thighs, with his thumbs gripping either side of the talma, he eased the sweet lips apart to reveal the vulnerable soft pink flesh, coated with the honeyed dew inside the dark brown lips.

The lips unfolded, like a flower opening its petals, displaying the delicate beauty of its inner cuticle. With an intake of breath and a soft moan, the man once again placed his parched, cracked lips to the warm pulpy orifice, savouring the sweet juices. His tongue explored the whole talma with great sensitivity, until he felt again the lady's thighs begin to tense.

Wave upon wave of exquisiteness trembled through her body. Swala grasped the man's head and pressed it against her yearning talma. The waves crashed over her faster and faster until, with a great, tearing moan she jolted her hips into the air as she dissolved into a peak of yearning, leaving her with a deep rooted glowing sensation. Raising his head, the man saw before him a beautiful young girl with moist, brown eyes gazing at him with affection and tenderness.

(At this point in the narrative, the guests broke into spontaneous applause at the good fortune of the two lovers being re-united. Jake then continued his story.)

Swala immediately recognised the handsome warrior who had won her heart. She was overjoyed that it was he who had released her from the wicked spell of her father. The man felt a wave of choking fervour overwhelm him and, as his eyes embraced the graceful beauty of the lady, he knew that he loved her completely.

Swala saw that the man's rnami was stiff and appealing, begging for attention. She was overjoyed and, taking it in her grasp, eased him towards her, where he penetrated her silky wet talma to the fullest depth of his handsome rnami. The delicate skin of his shaft was delicately stimulated by the soft inner flesh of the beautiful virgin's mystery.

They lay motionless for a while, in each other's arms, luxuriating in the unity of their two yearning bodies until, slowly and easily, he began to pump his rnami in and out of the ravishing inner secret nest of the princess, gathering pace until his seed, pent up for so many months, exploded with great force.

With a massive lunge of his thighs, it spurted deep inside the lady. He purred with happiness and satisfaction, engulfing him in her arms. She looked into his contended face.

'Tell me your name, and how you came to lose the sight which is but now restored by a seeming miracle.'

'Nay,' the young man replied, 'miracle indeed. My name is Dwindali, son of the King of the Shinli tribe, living in the great forest of the heart-lands. I was chosen, by the mighty King Witch Doctor of the Mbobo, to be betrothed to the Princess Swala. In my impatience to see her before the wedding contract was agreed, I came in private to your village, but immediately my eyes lighted on your beauty, my fate was sealed and my heart lost forever. 

'It was only you I wanted. The King Witch Doctor punished my intrusion, for reasons I never could discover, with a spell which took away my sight and memory, until I should be invited to kiss a virgin bride's honeyed lips. The rest you know.'

Swala listened with increasing excitement and, when he had finished, she sat up quickly.

'But I am that same Swala," she cried. 'When my father put his spells upon us, he assumed that you were just a straying warrior, come to the village to seduce his virgin daughter, and claim a large ransom. Come, let us return to my father and tell him the truth behind his mistake.'

After refreshing themselves in a nearby stream, they begged charity from the nearest village, who were pleased to help the handsome couple whom they had, if they but knew it, turned away with abuse and stoning only a few hours earlier. They refreshed their bodies in a stream, vowed their betrothal contract and made all speed to return to the Mbobo tribe. The sheer labour of their arduous journey which they were making with all speed, exhausted them so that they slept well in each other's arms beneath the star-studded skies.

During their journey, they made love frequently. He kissed her talma tenderly, savouring her private honey whilst she licked and sucked on his rnami with deepest affection, tasting the wonderful juice of her hero.

It took them two days to return to Swala's village. They were greeted with jubilation and rejoicing by the villagers. When the old king had heard to their tale he wept with shame and remorse at his mistake, but also with joy that they should be reunited by breaking the spell he had placed on them. Messengers were sent straight away to the great King of the Shinlis who thought his son had been killed by some beast of the forest.

The Queen herself helped the King's personal nurse to bathe and pamper Dwindali, trimming his hair, which had grown long during his years of banishment, and massaging his muscular body with special oils to burnish the skin. She paid particular attention to his handsome rnami, majestic even in repose.

'Swala will have a delightful toy to while away her nights,' she laughed.

The young prince looked down at his future mother, admiring her superb breasts, still firm and full, like plump aubergines, with swollen saucer-like sucklings tipped with large, dark purple, protruding nipples. She was a magnificent lady. He stood over her whilst she rubbed the balm into his stiffening rnami, laughingly placing it between the swelling orbs, trapped it by squeezing the breasts together.

'And the King must take much enjoyment from fondling your superb toys, my lady, he retorted.

The Queen and the nurse both laughed and watched as Dwindali thrust upwards with his hips, teasing the queen by using the friction of the breasts to retract the foreskin of his rnami and unveil the imposing, dark velvety, bulbous end, which paid homage to the queen by shedding a tear from its single eye.

The nurse chuckled, her shoulders shaking with merriment. 'I doubt that it will wait until the night, my lady.' The queen seemed entranced by the weeping rnami. She sighed deeply as she stroked it soothingly. The King had been an insatiable lover in his younger days and the villagers had loved to watch him perform. But he was now past his prime.

'Pass me the lotion to dampen down his impatience,' the Queen said sadly. The nurse took the jar, watching as the Queen took away the tear from his weeping rnami with a light kiss before applying the lotion. The stiffness quickly subsided, all three smiling sadly as it deflated.

Within five days the King of the Shinli tribe, with his warrior guard and others servants arrived with majestic ceremony to the village of the Mbobo. There was glorious rejoicing among the eminent people. A large wild boar was roasting on the spit and many delicious spices were added to it's basting. The special mead was brought to toast the couple and large butts of wine were tapped. Large trestles were set up round the centre of the village and covered with food of all descriptions until they groaned beneath the weight. 

Meantime, the couple were prepared with great care for their ceremony. Swala was tended by several nubile maidens who bathed her in warm water and massaged her with perfumed oils until her torso was a polished mahogany and almost incandescent.

Her hair was combed to a glossy lustre and twisted into two plaits in which were entwined flowers of yellow, blue and pink. A head-band of strings of white and blue polished beads, made from small shells, was wrapped around her.

Her face was decorated with blue and white paints applied with hollow shoots. Her hair around her talma was combed and pruned, rubbed with sweet smelling lotion, and set into small delicate bows with sprigs of exquisite flowering herbs.

Her breasts were embellished with silver ornaments and the nipples, each encompassed by a wide swollen circle of dark flesh which was painted red, were massaged with another lotion, engorging them until they swelled and stretched to their fullest extent, like ripe plums, removing every wrinkle. Brightly coloured strands of beads were tied in festoons from them.

Finally, Swala's face was painted in a delicate design made up of bright colours and her lips coated with bright red unguent. When the ceremony was about to begin, a small pellet of a special paste was inserted deep into her talma to encourage the flow of her natural juices, which, under the stress of the occasion a bride was often unable to produce unaided.

Dwindali was adorned by the Queen and the nurse. After washing his whole body, scented lotions were applied to his skin and rubbed in, until his torso gleamed and rippled like polished oak. Decorations were painted onto the torso and arms in white and red, using brushes made from coconut hair. Strings of multi-coloured beads were wound round his forehead and bangles of shells round his biceps.

Many small red and white flowers were entwined into the hair of his groin. His rnami rose to its full extent during these attentions, and was carefully rubbed with balm to increase, for at least three hours, its normal hardness and dimensions. It gave a iron-like solidity to it before being decorated with gold and coral shapes, interspersed with a fine tracery of silver, enhancing its proportions to the onlooker but also to symbolise its potency.

His testicles, djamie, were suspended into a palm full of warm lotion to swell them and loosen the texture of the skin so that they hung very low, large and heavy between the thighs. They were then dipped into a bowl of golden liquid giving them a translucent incandescence when dry. The djamie themselves glowed through the thin translucent skin.

The Queen was an expert body decorator, taking great pride in carrying out this work, envious of her daughter's eventual delightful amicatalma with the beautifully ornamented rnami. Garlands of blue flowers were hung around his thighs and genitalia and bands of pretty herbs fastened round his arms.

When they had finished their task, the Queen and the nurse were highly satisfied with their artistry. Finally, Dwindali was offered a small cup of syrup, made from a mixture of a gorilla's milk, honey, the ground root of the cataloma plant, and powdered boar's horn which had been soaked for twelve hours in the sperm of a bull and mixed into a paste before adding the milk and honey. This was intended to help increase his sexual potency. He drank it down in one gulp.

When the moment for the ceremony arrived, Dwindali was led out of the hut and led by the Queen round the circle of the crowd proudly displaying his exquisitely decorated rnami to the villagers, who admired its proportions and deep scars with gasps from the men and sighs from the women, finally being led to a thick trunk, set into the centre of the circle.

Here his hands were tied behind the trunk which was then lowered to a shallow angle, and his legs planted wide apart on either side of the trunk exposing his glowing, inflated djamie which had responded well to the effects of the syrup, hanging hugely, glowing mysteriously beneath the mighty, ornamented, gnarled rnami rearing into the air.

The Witch Doctor approached the reclining figure and performed a brief dance during which he touched the glorious rnami projecting stiffly from the garlands surrounding it, with his ceremonial switch. The Queen stepped forward, lifting the engorged shaft with her hand, displaying it to the assembly.

They roared their approval. At the end of the Witch Doctor's dance, Swala, looking extraordinarily beautiful and colourful, was led proudly into the circle. She paraded round the front of the assembly until she faced the reclining figure of Dwindali.

The Queen met her, holding up behind the bride an exquisitely embroidered cloak, in gold thread and many bright colours, with exotic motifs. Both Swala and the Queen advanced to the feet of Dwindali. Swala turned her back to the reclining figure parted her legs slightly, then took two steps backwards until she straddled the reclining thighs.

At a sign from the Witch Doctor, Swala placed her hands between her own thighs. With one hand she drew apart her flowered talma lips with index finger and thumb, with the other, she positioned the rnami at its entrance. Then, she lowered herself onto it.

The Queen dropped the cloak over Swala's lap, as the rigid rnami slid, effortlessly, deep into the warm pink flesh until the cheeks of her bottom were resting hard on his groin, crushing the flowers. Swala hugged him firmly inside her, throwing her head back and raising her clasped hands above her head.

At this, there was a mighty roar from the assembly and the two maidens approached to stand either side of Swala facing the reclining Dwindali. Swala placed a hand on the near shoulder of each maiden and hoisted herself up a few inches, pausing before plunging herself again onto the stiff rnami. She repeated the movement again and again as the people began to clap their hands to the rhythm, slowly increasing their speed as the bride, with remarkable upright dignity, thrust herself up and down on the bridegroom.

The maidens smiled happily as Dwindali's knees began to shake and his body to tremble. Swala, sensing he was nearing ejaculation, tightened the inner muscles of her talma and squeezed hard on his rnami as she increased the speed of the amicatalma. Then she felt Dwindali begin to shudder uncontrollably under her and start to lunge his groin at her until, with a loud shout his seed gushed into her with several violent jolts threatening to dislodge Swala from his lap.

As she heard the first of his shouts, Swala screamed out as loud as she could - though in truth any orgasm was a long way off - and there was a loud cheering from the crowd as the naked girl dancers appeared into the circle followed by the young men, thrusting their own stiff rnami in front of them, displaying them proudly to the girls in the assembly.

With the maidens, they performed the dance of the Goddess Patalma the gyrating bellies of the maidens and the swaying breasts of all sizes, rousing the fervour of the young men. The drum beats got louder, the rhythm stronger. The dance became wilder. Swinging breasts, waving stiff rnami, flailing arms and savage cries.

This was the cause of much encouragement and cheering from the crowd until, one by one, as the dance neared its end, each young man in turn stood in a rigid stance, legs apart, held thrown back, before a ceremonial bowl presented by the King's nurse. He trod the earth fiercely with his feet, as he masturbated with ecstatic, terrifying moans, watched avidly by the young maidens on the look-out for the most virile male.

Thighs jerked, shoulders heaved, the youth's grasping hand a blur of movement until, with a loud bellow, his lunging rnami spurted its starchy liquid into the vessel. The whole assembly threw their arms up in jubilation as each young warrior splashed his offering. When one young hunter achieving ten copious spurting jerks before he was finally spent, he was hailed the Queen's champion and, at the end of the ceremony of the virility bowl, carried high on the shoulders of the others to the Queen.

He was set down before her and sat on her right hand. This brought about much vocal acclaim and clamour.

'Meantime, Swala stood and wrapped the colourful cloak around her whilst her maidens released Dwindali from the post and cloaked him in a large multi-coloured woollen blanket. They walked hand in hand, with happy smiles to join the King and Queen's party where they were greeted with joy and happiness.

The ceremonial bowl containing the offerings of the loins of the village youth, blended with the specially prepared syrup, taken earlier by Dwindali, was handed to the couple. They lifted the bowl to their lips and shared the contents which was believed to increase their sexual potency.

The whole assembly cheered themselves hoarse before many of the couples, drunk with liquor and jubilation, aroused by the joy of the ceremony, entered the centre of the arena and fucked - always in the animal fashion - to the rhythmic clapping of the onlookers. It was an uninhibited sexual orgy, where anything could happen - and did! So the night wore away and the villagers eventually fell exhausted into their beds.

So Swala and Dwindali became life-long partners and their tribes, for many generations, lived peacefully as neighbours. But, when the white man invaded the continent, trying to impose their values on the tribes of Africa, many thousands of lives were lost and many traditions disappeared for ever.

During the telling of the tale, the guests had become somewhat aroused themselves. Hands were groping inside hot damp thighs, or clutching at erect cocks. Not wishing to lose the erotic moment, the couples hurried to their bedrooms for lengthy sexual encounters of their own, leaving Jake to the mercies of Gertie.

Gertie was not a particularly active partner. She preferred to be pampered. She was feeling very sexy, and arranged herself on the rug in front of the now dying fire, parting her thighs wide, to show her most private possessions, defenceless, and spread out for Jake's attention. With the right guy, and the right atmosphere, she would let her partner use her body any way they wished. She just enjoyed having her body being used for sex.

After studying her gorgeous body for some moments, Jake knelt between her thighs. Parting the labia with the fingers of one hand, he applied his lips to the leaking aperture. He licked her with enthusiasm, taking a deep delight in tonguing the soft flesh and clitoris of such a gorgeous woman. Gertie's body responded with squirms and shudders, murmuring sighs, little squeals and whimpers all the while, until she enjoyed spasms of agonising happiness. She would have several more before the night was out!

Eventually, Jake was content to straddle himself over her, poised on top of her beautifully smooth olive coloured body, thighs open wide, firm breasts set wide apart on her chest. Noticing the mole on her inner slope of her right breast, and the dark chocolate-coloured nipples, he paused with his cock at the entrance to her vagina. Savouring that exquisite moment of penetration, he slowly and deliberately immersed his stiff cock between the long slender labia.

Gertie sighed long and deep with joy as Jake reached the fullest depths of her mystery. She had longed for a large cock to fill her. She had such a large passage to fill! And Jake's cock did! He fucked the slender lady long and hard as they gazed into each other's dark brown eyes, relishing in the sensations within them. When Jake felt the tension building in his loins, his strokes became rather more erratic. The juices gathered behind the dam, until it finally burst, filling Gertie's delightful, hungry body with his sperm.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 17



After a few moment of reflective calm, both revelling in the happiness they felt, Jake whispered 'I need to fuck you again, Gertie. Let's repeat that in my bed.' And they slowly mounted the stairs, arm in arm for an night of sheer fucking delight. 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 18



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's related her experience of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards, whilst Jake, the actor, had a delightful story about an African tribe whose Princess found her Prince.

Chapter Eighteen - The Author's Tale: Which one will win Delia?

The host, Robert, told the group over breakfast that the weather conditions were improving. It was confidently expected that help would arrive the next day. Just seven days after they were trapped inside the roadhouse. Although the guests had taken advantage of their situation, it would come as a relief to return to normal. Besides, the food in the freezer wouldn't last forever!

So they all set to after breakfast to do the chores, tidy the rooms, and generally restore the roadhouse to its pristine, top class condition, in readiness for a final day of erotic tales, of fun and games. All the guests except Susan and George, had recounted tales of a wide variety. Today, hey too would have a story to tell.

Susan was a novelist. A short jolly lady of thirty-five, with red hair arranged in bubbles. Her green eyes and small upturned nose, were set in a round face. Slightly round shouldered, her breasts were long and pointed to brown cone-shaped nipples resting on her rounded belly. Her stocky thighs and short legs completely hid her private parts but, when opened, showed that the hair had been shaved off her vulva to reveal plump outer lips which did nothing to hide the chunky inner labia protecting a small, but no less accommodating entrance to her warm tunnel. She rarely stopped laughing! She was not as sex driven as the others but enjoyed group sex and could have a sequence of orgasms lasting at least half an hour.

During their stay in the roadhouse, Susan had enjoyed romps in her bed with each of the other men, and with three at a time. But her most enjoyable activities were with the group role play. Nuns and vicars, and the Sultan's harem. They had an air of unreality about them which appealed to her sense of humour.

Since she discovered some years ago, that her husband George had been having sex on the side, rather than create a bitter argument, she decided to join in sex with other men so that George could watch her having it off. She hadn't thought that George might find this exciting, but he did and encouraged her in developing their group sex activities. This roadhouse was ideal for the occasional sexual blow-out with discreet friends, eager to engage in similar activities.

As they settled down with their coffees in the morning of the sixth day of their imprisonment, Susan announced that she had a tale to tell of two French students who fell for the same English girl, but which of them she would choose to sleep with was anyone's guess. She too, was called, Delia. She had a serious boyfriend called Johnnie and expected to become engaged to him when she reached twenty-one years of the age, the following year.

Delia had exchanged letters for two years to a French pen friend called Pierre. It was all part of education then, to encourage young people to learn a second language by these means. Pierre was a university student in Rouen. The following summer, Pierre brought his friend Jacques to stay for a week at Delia's home. During their visit, Delia, aided and abetted by her mother, indulged in all kinds of silly horse play. The sexual innuendo was obvious but her mother thought it great fun. Needless to say, Johnnie was not too happy with this uninhibited play.

It was arranged for the two French youths to sleep in Delia's double bed whilst she had made a bed for herself in the small single bedroom. Pierre was a tall handsome youth with a shock of unruly blonde hair, who made it clear that he was after a good time. And all Delia's lady friends were attracted by his handsome figure and the fact that he was French

Jacques likewise, though smaller and dark-haired, also found no problem in attracting the girls. They soon became the centre of attention of Delia's college friends. But both Jacques and Pierre fancied Delia. The question was, who would be the one to get her before they returned home? Pierre claimed she was his pen friend, and therefore he had priority.

The two youths were psychology students, which included the study of Eastern philosophies. Delia and her mother found this fascinating but try as they might, Pierre was reluctant to talk too much about it at first.

One evening, after they had been to the theatre with three of Delia's girl friends, all came back to Delia's house for a light supper which her mother had prepared. Delia put records on playing softly in the background. It was Beecham and his Royal Philharmonic playing Delius. The girls persuaded Pierre to tell them something about the Eastern philosophies, even though he explained to them that Western religions did not accept the teachings of the East, even finding them objectionable

Many generations of Western religious teaching had created a prejudice in the mind against an open and free approach, in particular to matters of sex.

'No matter,' Peggy, the slender dark-haired girl told him. 'We're all open minded enough.'

Pierre shrugged. 'We shall see! All of us, I guess, were taught to be ashamed of our bodies, to cover them up and to ignore the existence of sex.'

He turned to Delia's mother who was looking uncomfortable. 'It is not easy to change a person's outlook, to see it from the opposite direction so to speak. In Eastern religions, hiding sex behind false morality was not the case. Indeed, the opposite was frequently taught, where the body was regarded as a thing of beauty to admire and respect. But who is to say what is right? Each teaching uses the same basic gospels as their starting point to justify their philosophies.'

Enid was enthralled. 'Tell us something about the Eastern approach.'

'I obviously am not able to tell you the details in such a short space of time,' Pierre explained, 'but the principle is that God made man and created woman from Adam's rib to be his companion. If he made man in His own image, some argue, then he created woman as His goddess for man to honour, bestowing on her the secret of cosmic mystery.'

The ladies exchanged looks.

'In some cultures, a naked woman is looked upon with equal admiration and impartiality as that of the unfathomable secret of nature. Man must discover deep within himself the intrinsic mystical value of her secret.'

There were gasps from the girls who were spellbound by Pierre's soft, modulating voice with it's French accent. It was almost hypnotic.

'But,' he continued, 'before man can do that, woman must search her own body to find and recognise the goddess within herself. There is nothing ugly in the human form, man or woman. It is a beautiful form made in God's image. Yet Delia here probably wishes her breasts were not quite so large, whilst Peggy would probably like hers to be larger.'

The friends giggled. 'True,' Peggy muttered.

'It's a question of Western values, wishing for perfection. But what constitutes perfection? Nearly all bodies are perfect even if different. Woman must learn to accept and respect her body, to explore it's possibilities and to enjoy its pleasures, both physical and mental. To express her physical nature in total freedom. To move, to dance, to project boldly her sensuality and self. And to participate fully in the act of love worship whilst consciously enjoying it.'

'Is that why Eastern women dance in that provocative way?' Peggy asked.

'Yes!' Pierre replied. 'It is part of the ritual. And the act of love, properly conducted with ritual and openness - rather than the clumsy gropings of Western man - comes close to divinity. They argue that it is through this constant quest for spiritual development that we come closer to our maker. Divine intercourse, someone called it'

'Gosh!' The ladies were impressed.

'It isn't human love as we Westerners might recognise it, but an act of worship between compatible partners where the female body is the idol, if you like, and the coupling a ritual act of worship. We find that notion repulsive in the West because we have been brought up to believe otherwise. We snigger behind our backs at the Kama Sutra, for example, but to people from the Indian continent, that is how they have been taught. How they have been brought up.'

All this was too much for Delia's mother whose eyes were wide with apprehension and foreboding. She had been brought up to ignore sex, though she hadn't always succeeded. But to discuss it openly! Never! She didn't want to upset the others but wished Delia would go to bed rather than listen to this flagrant immorality. In any case, she felt she herself had to leave them. She muttered an excuse and left the room.

Once outside the door she leaned heavily against it for several moments before going into the kitchen to pour herself a recuperative brandy.

Inside the room, the girls were so absorbed that they hardly noticed that Delia's mother had left them.

'How do women go about finding their inner secret?' Enid asked.

'Through daily acts of physical aggressive exercise, designed to express the female body mad with love, to experience the mystical naked truth about her body and its secrets. To learn that woman is not submissive or inferior to man. But God's offspring, a goddess to be adored.'

Pierre stood up and turned out the lights, leaving only the glimmer from the dying embers of the coals in the fireplace. The music of Delius was still playing softly in the background.

'It takes a long time to develop, but let's give you a sample. Close your eyes and concentrate everything on your inner self. Let the music wash your mind clean. Touch and caress your breasts lightly. Concentrate on the feeling of sensuality within them.' 

The ladies stood and did as they had been asked.

'Feel the texture of the skin. How beautiful it is. Explore the pleasure breast massage gives. Rub your belly and gyrate your hips, feeling the muscles inside your yogini. Sense how exquisite it feels to know that you are a goddess, made by God for man, made in his image, to worship and, through your body, to reach an inner calm and the mystery of life. Only women know the inner mystery entrusted to them by God for his own delight.'

At this, Enid stood in the near darkness, gyrating her body to the rhythm of the music, softly moaning to herself as she squeezed and stroked her breasts. As the moans and gyrations became more uninhibited she unbuttoned her blouse letting it flutter to the carpet. Her hands reached behind her back to unhook her bra which fell from her shoulders to reveal her quivering naked breasts. She rubbed them ecstatically, her palms massaging the erect nipples.

After watching this with a hypnotic stare for a few moments, Peggy stood to join in with erotic movement of her hips. As Peggy shed her blouse and bra, Enid was stepping out of her skirt, followed by underskirt and panties until she was stripped naked undulating her hips to the music, belly and thighs glimmering faintly in the light of the burning coals.

It was at this point that Delia's mother left the kitchen on her way up to bed. Passing the door to the front room, however, she heard Enid's moans over the music. She stopped to listen and remained there in a state of mild shock and astonishment trying to interpret the sounds until the lights clicked on again. It wasn't until she got into her bed that she realised she had herself become aroused. Her body had oozed. She felt ashamed. Time for prayers of forgiveness, she decided.

Meantime, Pierre continued to encourage the girls with his soft voice. 'Concentrate on your bodies, imagine the whole of humanity suckling your teats. All mankind. You are being milked. You are the mother earth. The earth goddess of mankind, made in God's image. If flows freely and willingly. Your whole body is liquid and light. Feel it, stroke it, enjoy it. Above all, adore it!'

Jacques was sitting all the while on the settee, watching the exhibition with obvious enjoyment. Enid stroking her belly, with one hand between her thighs, probing into the hair covering her vulva, caressing the hot dampness of her mystical secret and toying with her passion button.

Peggy, with eyes screwed shut, had slipped out of her clothes, caressing her whole body with arms, wrists and hands, paying particular attention to her small breasts until she, too, found her hand straying to the hairy patch between her thighs.

Delia didn't wish to be seen as a coward in this. After watching Enid and Peggy undulate unashamedly, weaving about their naked bodies, moaning and whimpering with self enjoyment, Delia removed her blouse and bra before standing up. Her large pendulous breasts swung heavily from side to side as she began to sway her hips.

'Your skin is on fire with craving, your breasts are swollen with the milk of desire and your whole belly is ablaze with the secret torment of sexuality and passion.' Pierre was telling them in his quiet hypnotic voice as he released from his trousers a long swollen penis throbbing with lust, gripping it in his hand to ease the yearning within his groin.

Jacques was openly rubbing his erection through the fabric of his trousers, his eyes bulging at the sight of three very different girls jiggling naked around the hearth rug and masturbating themselves with total disregard of modesty.

Jacques glanced up at Pierre with a look of appeal in his eyes. Pierre shook his head. He knew that the first encounter was a delicate exploration which might easily be disturbed and ruined. The girls had made believe that they were alone with their own emotions. It could do more harm than good to interrupt the fragile emotional intensity of the path to fulfilment. An attempt at this stage to fornicate with them would be disastrous for them all. Whereas Pierre knew that time was on their side.

Only Rita failed to respond to Pierre's spellbinding performance, watching with disbelief as the other three undressed and danced naked. Out of the corner of her eye she could just discern Pierre standing at the door, grasping his stiff phallus.

Enid reached an orgasm, crying out loud, thrashing her hips and jerking her groin. This was followed by a joyous shout from Peggy as her body convulsed, arched and bucked with her climax.

They both sank to their knees with emotional exhaustion, opening their eyes to see Delia, her breasts slopping around violently, moaning and gasping with an uncontrollable intensity until she too collapsed to her knees, fingers rubbing furiously in her patch of hair. A strangled shriek announced her orgasm as she grasped her trembling genitals tightly in the cup of her palm.

Unable to control his excitement at the sight, Jacques had taken out his throbbing shaft with one hand, his handkerchief with the other, and, after a few quick strokes, the former spurted copiously into the latter. During these emotional crises, no one noticed that the music was finished.

As silence descended, Pierre whispered softly. 'There is no shame in this. Do not feel any embarrassment. No regret whatsoever. You have openly shown that you can find the enjoyment of the goddess within you. You have admitted the delight felt by the goddess part of you at being worshipped at the portals of her fortress. Do not blush. Do not feel embarrassed. Jacques and I will now close our eyes to allow you time to redress yourselves. Of course, we too have shared in your joy and fulfilment. It would not be human to do otherwise.'

Rita was stupefied. Unable to believe it had all really taken place. Too shocked, in fact to be sexually aroused in any way herself.

After a few silent minutes disturbed only by the rustle of clothes, Pierre turned the lights back on, smiling at the girls. His own deflated genitals was now modestly resting inside his underwear but not before having discharged their contents into his handkerchief.

Enid broke the silence with a sigh. 'That was a wonderful experience, Pierre,' Enid told him. 'I have never before unashamedly enjoyed my own body. I've always felt so guilty. But now I feel so peaceful and relaxed. Thank you. But I must admit, I do still feel a little ashamed.'

'Don't be!' Pierre told her. 'God gave you your body for enjoyment and fulfilment. Not to make you ashamed of it. Love it. Explore it. Satisfy it!'

A farewell party was arranged for their final night. All Delia's friends came along for an evening of games and fun, including Johnnie and two other boy friends, to have a good time and to say goodbye to the French pals. There were more girls than boys. Of course, news had gone round the girls about Peggy, Enid and Delia's having danced naked, and the way Pierre had explained the excitement and mysteries of Eastern philosophies. This made Pierre popular with all the girls.

During Postman's Knock, together with the other kissing games, Pierre took advantage of his popularity by fondling as many breasts as he could. In the dark, his own bulging groin was handled more than once by clumsy, excited hands, leaving him wild and horny.

During the game of Murder he very nearly made it with Peggy, who whispered to him behind a settee that she felt much more relaxed about her sexuality after the experience of other evening. She let him caress her small breasts, making no objection when his hand stole up her skirt probing her thick forest of hair to fondle the wet lips of the slit inside her damp knickers.

In fact, she reciprocated by sliding her own hand gown the front waist-band of Pierre's trousers, pushing her stretched fingers over the stiff shaft of his cock. Had the bell not rung and the lights come on, he would surely have jerked himself into her hand. She gave his cock a squeeze before removing it.

Jacques, on the other hand, the quieter boy of the two, had rather more success than Pierre. A passionate kissing session with Enid during the Murder game had resulted in him groping between her thighs, actually spurting into her knickers as she pressed his thrusting cock against her rough hairy groin. It was something that she had never allowed her boyfriend to do! But this was different!

Jacques had also managed long probing feels in the knickers of two other girls, both of whom had responded by grasping and stroking his hard erection with evident enthusiasm. Certainly one of those girls had managed to stifle an orgasm but he wasn't sure about the other. He was as horny as hell! Their boyfriends were blissfully unaware of the thrills their women were having.

Johnnie had managed to keep Delia away from the French boys during most of the games, kissing her openly to show the others that he was Delia's mate. They had probed each other passionately during the evening, but Delia had found herself more than once stealing jealous glances across at Pierre, cuddling with the other girls.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 18



Delia knew that Peggy fancied Pierre like mad. Probably ready to let him fuck her if the chance arose. Her fantasies about Pierre certainly made her particularly amorous and wet between the legs with her silken honey.

In spite of Johnnie's protection, Delia had managed to be with both the French boys during one or two of the games, having allowed both Jacques and Pierre a quick, furtive grope into her knickers, with a feel of her pendulous breasts which had left Jacques gasping. She herself had managed to grasp their bulges during Postman's Knock but was too nervous of trying to go further. All this sensuality left her panting with frustration, desperate for fulfilment.

After the party was over and the guests had gone home, Delia parents returned from their night out. There was more horseplay in the home, before they all retired to bed. Jacques and Pierre had reluctantly agreed that their hopes had been unfulfilled and that neither of them would get between Delia's thighs, even though both felt she would have been willing had the opportunity arisen.

Jacques was asleep quickly after his tiring evening but Pierre was unable to sleep for the painful frustration in his groin, the insistent throbbing of his hard penis.

He didn't want to wake Jacques with his squirming so he decided that the best thing to do was to go into the bathroom to jerk himself off. He stole silently out of bed, standing in silence, listening intently to the quiet stillness of the house itself, before opening the bedroom door with great care. 

He stood still on the dark landing, straining his ears. The bathroom was to his right. The door to Delia's bedroom was to his left, beyond her parent's door. It was slightly ajar. With his heart in his mouth, he suddenly made the decision to creep discreetly to her room. With a pounding in his chest, he tip-toed slowly past the parent's door, pushed open Delia's door very slowly, sneaking softly into the bedroom.

It so happened that Delia had not been able to sleep either. It was a warm night, and her body was too much in a turmoil of frustration after the sensual atmosphere of the party. The furtive gropes and stolen kisses in which she had been a willing participant had left her feeling so thwarted that her aching genitals were wet and hot with lust.

With hands pressed between her legs, squeezing her thighs together, she rubbed her clitoris to bring about the climax she hoped would release, if not completely relieve, the deep seated longing in her genitals. But the orgasm just refused to come! She was in a despair of frustration!

There was a faint disturbance in the air as the door of her bedroom swung silently open. Delia always slept with the window curtains open to give a glimmer of light in the room because she was rather afraid of being in total darkness. The small bedroom was at the front of the house. A street-lamp outside her window threw an eerie glow into the room.

Delia turned her head as Pierre closed the door behind him. He had expected her to be asleep but saw the faint reflection from the whites of her wide, imploring eyes gazing up at him. Pierre stood motionless at the side of her bed looking down at her. Delia's eyes turned to the stiff, clean cock jutting proudly out of his pyjamas from its nest of blonde curls.

Staring at it in the dim light, she realised that she desperately wanted to feel it inside her. Although only a standard six-inch penis, it seemed bigger. It dominated. The shaft of light from the sodium street-lamp outside the window caught it in it's beam, imparting a curious orange glow to it's pale skin. The surrounding dimness of the room suffused the upright shaft with an inner personal glow, giving it a stature of strength and mystical divinity of its own.

It was beautiful. All-powerful. An arrogant deity.

Being a fairly religious person, Delia had thought a lot about Pierre's explanation of Eastern morals. She had tried to rationalise the desire of the flesh in relation to the needs of the mind and soul. She remembered Pierre telling them about Tantrism where God is not to be found by shutting oneself away from the world, but through the pleasures of making love.

He had on a later occasion told her about Taoism in which the couple making love share in the motion of the universe. She had been fascinated by, if rather cynical of, these strange, rather erotic ideas. Staring now at Pierre's proud penis as it reared above her face glowing in its own light, Delia realised that what she was seeing was the god of the flesh given to man by God in Heaven for woman's pleasure. To seek the goddess within her, her private bodily heaven, that soft, tender part nestling between her thighs.

From these warm, demanding folds of flesh, she was able to achieve a private ecstasy to complement the ecstasy of the mind when worshipping God the Father. She hadn't fully understood the philosophies Pierre had spoken of, but after listening to his description of the Eastern rituals, she could not believe that sex was wrong and dirty, which was what her mother would have her believe.

This stiff, incandescent column of flesh rising before her was the god of flesh. She must worship it as God's agent. More than anything else at that moment she craved to have it enter her heaven, into her womanly paradise, warm and moist, longing to embrace this proud god to seek divine fulfilment from it.

Pierre stood quite still, quietly clenching and relaxing the muscles of his groin to retain a strong erection. The clenching action made his penis twitch and quiver as if it had a life of it's own. Delia stared hungrily at its arrogant glowing beauty, reaching out to trail her fingernails lightly up its length until they reached the tip.

There, she pressed the thumb and forefinger gently over the crown, peeling the loose foreskin down its shaft, to reveal the glistening head. A pearl of clear liquid formed on the tip. She watched transfixed as it lazily trickled over, down the flesh of his retracted foreskin.

Lifting her face, she placed her puckered lips gently against the tip, to pay homage to this arrogant god. Delia had never ever thought of kissing a penis before. But here, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to honour the idol swaying in front of her face. Folding back the corner of the bedclothes she raised her knees before flapping them wide open, showing Pierre the mass of dark, damp curls spread over her genitals - her heavenly paradise - inviting him to enter her.

The hem of her nightie was already round her waist as Pierre looked down at her open thighs covered by the dark forest spreading from her navel, across the expanse of her lower belly, down her inner thighs to conceal the whole genital area. She was certainly the hairiest woman he had ever seen. The sight encouraged his cock to stiffen even more

Nevertheless, he could clearly see the dark inner lips of her vulva which thrust out of the hairy gash like a pair of testicles, glistening with her dew in the yellow glow. Pierre felt a surge of wild sexual arousal at the sight of such a magnificent vulva. There was nothing insipid about this throne of love. It was vibrant and glorious in its sheer sexuality.

Pierre climbed slowly on top of her, lowering himself with great caution, to avoid any squeaking of the bed springs, between her wide-open legs. He groped for the hot opening of the heavenly passage with the head of his shaft, as Delia parted the heavy, swollen lips with the her own fingers to lay open the vaginal gap.

Her other hand grasped Pierre's handsome stiffness, guiding it towards its goal. Once placed at the portals of paradise Pierre lay immobile, focussing his senses on the hot sloppy lips wrapped round the head of his powerful penis. He allowed the impatient clenching and unclenching of Delia's internal muscles to suck the conquering idol, oh so slowly, into the eager, slippery glove of tender flesh.

They both held their breath until, with a deep sigh of joy, the invader finally reached the very seat of Delia's heaven, embedded to the hilt in her warm nectar. They tried to suppress their excited breathing as they thrilled to the penetration. Both remained quiet, listening, in each other's arms, to their suppressed sighs.

As Delia concentrated on her own sensuality, the freedom of her own sexuality, the feeling of release, of joy, she clasped and relaxed her muscles rhythmically on the proud god within her. She exalted at its very presence within her. After a while, a growing feeling of ecstasy radiated from deep inside her vagina. It filled her every nerve.

She emptied her mind, focussing exclusively on the mystical union of the flesh, feeling the sensation of her idol's solid form and shape inside her. She concentrated on its shape. The soft warm flesh clutched at it hungrily. Her body began to flutter, ever so exquisitely at first, growing gradually to a trembling in her muscles.

Delia bit her top lip to prevent her rapidly rasping breath making too much noise. The trembling grew to a shake. She couldn't prevent the moans and whimpers in her throat as she reached uncontrollable shuddering spasms which shook the whole body. An orgasm began to erupt as she muttered God's name repeatedly.

She quaked violently, revelling in the forbidden glory of sex. Pierre held hard on to both sides of the bed fearing they were making a noise, whilst the tumult inside Delia's body brought about his own shaking climax. He was incapable of escaping the spasmodic wrench in his jubilant loins. His long pent-up discharge exploded deep into Delia's joyous paradise.

His cock filled her with spurt after spurt of his liquid libation. Delia wanted to cry out in glory and exultation her thanks to God for his bounty. After the succession of judders subsided, their bodies slackened until they became still, foreheads touching. A brief rest was followed, with much caution, by Pierre pushing slowly in and pulling out of Delia's citadel, careful to prevent the bed from squeaking, while brushing his lips over the nut-hard nipples of Delia's drooping breasts.

But Pierre's visit to Delia's room had not gone unnoticed. Delia's mother had sensed the sexually charged atmosphere, thinking rightly that the last night of their visit would be the time for any attempts to taste the forbidden fruit. She had felt disturbing feelings of sexual arousal ever since the other evening when she was unable to stay to experience the freedom of sex.

Memories of earlier days had persuaded her to feel at her own soft lips, encased in their hairy frame. She felt the juices leaking from her vulva and felt ashamed of her sexual desires. But they were not to be denied. Whilst her husband slept peacefully beside her, she played furtively with her clitoris until the tumult in her belly reached a peak. The jerk f her loins were unavoidable.

On this night, she heard the faintest of squeaks of the hinge as a bedroom door opened, and the light cat-like tread outside her own bedroom. She knew every creak and whisper of the house. Her husband was sound asleep, helped by his usual sleeping pill, but she had determined to remain awake, straining her ears for the slightest sign of nocturnal activity.

The slight click as a door closed told her that a visitor was now in Delia's room. She wondered what Delia would do but was soon enlightened by the faint rustle of bed clothes; the almost imperceptible rasp of the bed as it resisted the weight of the extra body. It seemed, then, that her daughter was to allow Pierre - she was certain it was he - to make love to her.

She was glad that it wasn't the boy-friend Johnnie. She couldn't get to like him at all. And, as she had tidied the French boys' bed earlier in the day, she had noticed Pierre's wallet on the dressing table. Tell-tale rings made by condoms were clearly visible. A sly peep into the wallet confirmed a packet of three. So there was little danger of conception.

As these thoughts crossed through her mind she fancied she could hear irregular breathing and sighs, but perhaps it was her fancy. There was little she could do other than have a confrontation with the whole household in the middle of the night. Had it been Johnnie, she might have done something about it, but a Frenchman whom Delia was unlikely to see again gave her a curious sense of approval.

The newly discovered desire in her own loins took her by surprise. Yes! There was no doubt that her desires were aroused at the thought of the handsome blonde boy fucking her daughter - though fucking was a word she would never use. Fornicating! Delia was fortunate.

Pretending to herself that she wanted to be sure that it was, indeed, Pierre who had visited her daughter, she slipped softly out of bed to move silently onto the landing. Her ears were cocked at Delia's door. Sure enough, although there was no sound of bed springs, the sound of irregular breathing suggested physical effort.

The door to the boys' bedroom being open, she peered inside. There was no Pierre. Just Jacques fast asleep, lying on his side. The covers had slipped half off the bed, revealing his hairy chest and navel, with his half swollen penis lolling from its thick nest of hair over the top of his thigh.

Something disturbed Jacques, for one of his eyes opened a crack, to catch Delia's mother staring at his naked genitals. He immediately closed it again, not wishing to embarrass her. Then, the thought of a woman's eyes examining him, stirred his imagination which resulted in the object of her admiration beginning to thicken and jerk as it became aroused.

Jacques was well known among his friends for his interest in having sexual intercourse with women of any age, being particularly fond of ladies in their late thirties and forties who, he believed, could give a man more satisfaction than a younger, less experienced woman.

Delia's mother had a good figure, nice breasts showing beneath her thin cotton nightie, though perhaps somewhat thick round the middle. It would certainly accommodate his crusading penis which she found so fascinating. He wondered where Pierre was until it suddenly struck him that he must be in bed with Delia. That thought only served to complete the swelling of his now magnificent erection, pressing hard into his navel.

Time to open his eyes and smile. So he did! The older woman gave him a serious glance then returned her gaze to his stiff cock. Unable to resist, she reached down to hold it gingerly in her hand, feeling its warmth, throbbing with life.

He spread his arms inviting her join him. After a moment's hesitation, she threw caution to the wind, lay face down on the bed, parting her chubby thighs. Jacques was soon laying on top of her buttocks, taking hold of his rod to present it to the hot lips of her vulva.

After nudging the shaft up and down the crack, she felt the plentiful lubrication seeping onto the outer lips, before it was thrust slowly into her yearning tightness. Her genitals had been so long neglected, she felt like a virgin all over again, marvelling at the feel of a cock deep inside her once more. It was unbelievably wonderful! To be a woman again. To feel her body revel in the joy of union with a male.

To her delight, Jacques performed long and powerfully. She was thankful that the bed had a silent mattress to conceal the activity, until that wonderful sensation she had almost forgotten, flooded her body and she reached a trembling, energetic orgasm, helped by Jacques fingers flicking over her clitoris.

When her shaking had subsided, Jacques rolled her onto her back, sat straddled over her waist before taking hold of his stiff shaft. She watched transfixed as he jerked it in front of her face. It only required a few fast strokes before his sperm splashed abundantly in a succession of gushes over her nightie.

After a few moments of silence, she slipped off the bed from under him, without looking back, returning quickly to her own bed. Shortly afterwards, she heard the soft tread of Pierre returning to his room.

It was, in fact, half an hour after her mother had joined Jacques, and following a second ejaculation from Pierre into Delia's responsive citadel, with much fondling and sighing, that he returned, happy and contented, to his own bed. Curiously enough, at no time had the lovers' lips met. It was a mystical meeting of the genitals, a glorifying of the physical act devoid of any tender feelings.

Delia realised that, though deeply in love with Johnnie, she worshipped the hard conquering cock inside her with an insatiable and joyous lust. She felt no remorse - indeed she felt elated - as the waves of sexual relief had swept through her body twice. She turned onto her side with a satisfied smile and slept like a baby not caring that Pierre's offering was trickling into her nightie.

The following day the two French pals, laden with luggage, were seen off at the station, Delia and Pierre exchanged gentle kisses and an appreciative squeeze of the hands. They never met again.

That evening, after her mother - in an unusually happy mood - had retired to bed, Delia, with a touch of guilt, allowed Johnnie an exploratory penetration of her, providing that he remained quite still, making no attempt to copulate. She relived the magical moments of the previous evening, relishing the sensations inside her rather than remembering the youth himself. After all, he had only been the carrier of the God in his cock. The youth was unimportant. After a quiet orgasm, she asked Johnnie to withdraw, before she took his handkerchief to manipulate him to his own spluttering climax before her father returned home from his late shift.

There was a murmur of approval from the company as Julie's tale ended.

'And did she and Johnnie become engaged?'

'Why, of course. It's what everyone expected. And society would allow no other course! But she never forgot that French youth's mystical fuck. She decided, indeed, that she would seek out other discreet men to frolic with, to share her feminine delights.' 

'And what about Johnnie?'

'Him too! Several mistresses. On the quiet, of course.'



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 19



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's violent revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her pastor. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's related her experience of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards, whilst Jake, the actor, had a delightful story about an African tribe whose Princess found her Prince and enjoyed the sexual rites of marriage with the whole village. On the morning of the sixth day, the Author told her tale of two French pen pals vying to fuck their English correspondent - one of them got the mother instead.

Chapter Nineteen: Gerties's Fantasy

The sixth day saw an improvement in the weather. During morning coffee, the main topic of conversation was the prospect of the road being re-opened.

'Who was it who wrote the story of a party who left town to escape the plague?' Enid asked.

'Ah, that was The Decammeron of Boccaccio. Seven ladies and three men left Florence to escape the plague. They were away for ten days and nights!'

'Poor men! I'll bet they were shagged out when the got back!' Susan laughed at the thought.

'No! They each told a story every night. A hundred in all!'

'What! No time for debauchery?'

'Well, apparently not!'

'I doubt if ours'll last ten nights.'

'Huh, I doubt if we men will either!'

Julie asked the guests if they would dress for lunch in the Greek outfits they would find in their rooms. They would also take on the names of various Greek gods and goddesses which would be allotted to them. They would also wear eye masks. This, Julie explained, was to help them develop relationships, acting out their fantasies without fear or inhibition.

'But I don't expect you to remember all the relationships. They are complicated. I shall be Cassandra and Robert, Apollo. For those who don't know the story, Cassandra was touched by snakes in her sleep and, when she woke up, found that she could understand the language of the birds. Her great beauty attracted Apollo, who taught her the secrets of prophesy. But, because she refused his sexual advances, he placed a curse on her that the prophecies she made would never be believed.'

This provoked considerable response from the guests. Undeterred, Julie went on to tell them who their various characters were.

'Laurie will be Neleus, a King of Pylus; Martin is Odysseus, King of Ithaca. Jake is Theseus and George the hero, Nestor, who happens to be the son of Neleus. Theseus is, of course, the famous hero the King of Athens. As for the ladies, Enid is Queen Niobe, Delia the goddess of erotic love, Aphrodite.'

The response to this bit of casting was predicable. 'Gertie will be Hera, goddess of marriage, and Susan, Theseus's Queen, Antiope.'

There was a murmur of surprise from the guests, wondering how on earth they would remember the curious names.

'Don't worry,' Julie assured them, 'the names are not important. Wait and see! To complete the cast list, Emma and Bill are Venus and Adonis.' This raised a cheer before the guests dispersed to their rooms.

In the cocktail lounge at the appointed hour, the men appeared in simple tunics, or chitons, fastened round the waist with wide leather belts. Nothing else! The tunics were short, only just managing to conceal what lay hidden beneath them. Their partners wore flimsy white chitons, slung off one shoulder to expose a breast. A knotted cord was fastened round the waist, emphasising the seductive shapes of the buttocks beneath.

In the background, Greek music could be heard playing. As each couple appeared, Julie announced them by their Greek names to those already there. After some time at the cocktail bar, the names of the Greek gods and goddesses became more familiar to everyone. When the food appeared, everyone was fluent in calling the others by their new name.

The meal was set out on three low tables, the six couples sitting on soft cushions placed round them, to eat the from the many dishes. Julie opened the discussion on the role of men and women in society, insisting that the main purpose of the male was to fertilize the egg of the female.

'That makes we women the superior sex. Not in physical strength, of course, but in spirituality.'

'I think we may have a difference of opinion about the respective roles of the sexes, Cassandra,' Apollo confessed. 'But that need not spoil the enjoyment of our afternoon.'

'Surely not. For we women posses what you men most desire. Tucked away between our thighs lies the delicious entrance to the secret of life itself, which lies buried deep within us. It is the secret of existence. We are happy to allow those we trust and admire to enter us and share that secret, to experience the delight of our private paradise. But it is a journey man can make only through their devotion to female sexuality.

'Without it there is no joy! You men may shout and be aggressive, but we women are more subtle. We know how to tease you. Think of Lysistrata! She brought an end to men's wars by persuading her women to deny their husbands their connubial beds. I admit it was as difficult for some of the more randy married women as it was for the men, but, there, it worked!'

'Nonsense!' cried Nestor. 'Pure theory! A dramatist's invention!'

'Male chauvinism!' Aphrodite sneered, picking up Cassandra's argument. The two looked each other in the eye with a certain respect and amusement.

'We women can easily hold our own where wit and strategy is concerned. Men's only weapon is their strength.'

'Nonsense!' cried Nestor again.

'But my argument is already won, for see! For you men are all sporting stiff erections.' And the six men's tunics were, indeed, raised to a tent-like shape, the fabric of some having slid away to reveal the object of women's desire.

Theseus joined in the debate. 'Ah! But with such beauty to stimulate our fantasies, what man could fail to show his appreciation in the best possible manner.'

'Well, I am sure we ladies are more than willing to allow you to worship at the altar of the beautiful Aphrodite.' It was Hera taunting him. 'You must admit that the temptation is too strong to resist. You are all anxious to penetrate the secret of our all our womanly shines. And your weapons are a good selection. Theseus, in particular sports a monumental idol. Dark and menacing!'

Sure enough, the ebony shaft had pushed aside the folds of the fine cotton tunic to rear it's head proud and arrogant. The goddesses turned their gaze to the shaft.

'But you see, ladies, it is you who worship,' Theseus taunted them. 'You are fascinated by these idols. The penis. The great phallus itself! It is the ambition of most women to pay homage to the great idol of the phallus.'

'Nonsense,' Aphrodite responded. 'It is a mere toy for our pleasure. If we are attracted to the toy we play with, we will take it into our shrines for our own entertainment and delight. For you mere males to worship at our altar.'

'Yes, oh Queen. My weapon is ready to worship at the altar of Aphrodite. Ready to lay its prowess before it and to inject the seed of life deep into the shrine of lust.'

Sat beside him, Aphrodite clasped her pale hand round the stiffness, squeezing its warmth. Theseus leaned back on his haunches, propped up by his arms, thrusting his groin forward. Niobe, on his other side, unable to resist the invitation, leaned over to take tip of the tempting head between her puckered lips. Her tongue slithered over the eye, removing from it the warm pearl of Theseus's desire.

'But, there you are. You women must worship the sheer beauty and strength of the phallus. You kiss it. You fondle it with respect and charm.'

'Perhaps you would care to enter my secret shrine?' Niobe suggested, rather breathless.

Theseus slipped a hand beneath her tunic, where he found a wet, slippery vulva.

'It is certainly ready to be entered,' he smiled.

'But first, the sweet course!' Apollo interrupted, clapping his hands.

Anne, in a short, diaphanous tunic, revealing her full figure, brown tipped breasts clearly visible, brought in a trolley with a selection of fruits and a variety of sweets, with cream and other toppings. These were placed on the low tables and the previous dishes removed.

The guests' attention was captured by a change in the music. The urgent beat of 'Zorba the Greek' was heard. Mary, dressed as a voluptuous dancer appeared, moving to the rhythm of the music. With thighs swaying provocatively, she stepped onto the now empty central table. She held up before her a bunch of grapes taken from the fruit dish.

The music changed to a low roll of the side drum. Pulling one grape from the branch, she placed it between her thighs, inserting it between her own purple, grape-like, vulva lips. This was followed by a second, then a third. The men watched in amazed amusement as the belly-dancer inserted eight black grapes deep into her vulva.

The women were equally engrossed by the performance. Mary stood on the table, legs apart, her finger beckoning to the first man - Neleus - to bring his mouth between her open thighs. He did so, slicking out his tongue. A grape emerged from between Mary's labia, to drop into his mouth.

There was much laughter and applause at this. Neleus rolled away as the dancer invited Theseus to do the same. Positioning himself, head between her open thighs, open mouthed, another grape was deposited into his mouth. So with Nestor, Apollo and, finally, Ulysses. As everyone laughed and clapped with appreciation, the dancer expelled the remaining grapes, one by one, onto the table to great applause and a crescendo from the drummer.

The grapes were picked up by the women and eaten with relish!

Apollo turned to the table which had on it a plate of chocolate eclairs. Taking one in his hand, he opened it out, folding the cream filled torpedo around his stiff shaft, before offering it to Venus for her to bite. With the encouragement of the others, she managed to open her mouth sufficiently far to take in the first two or three centimetres, biting off the eclair, whilst sucking the knob end it encased.

She licked the chocolate from her lips with a smile as he moved to Athena, sliding the eclair forward to the head of his shaft. She had difficulty in getting her lips over the end of it and, amidst laughter from the rest, resorted to nibbling round it. This was repeated with Niobe and Aphrodite, but it was Anne who finished off the rest of the eclair, leaving his shaft smeared with cream.

Athena stood in the centre of the table.

'Ulysses has decided to take his strawberries and cream à la Athena.'

She lay on her back in the middle of the table, folding her knees open, doubling them back over her shoulders so that her genitals were facing upright, her glorious cheeks alluring. Taking a strawberry from the dish, she delicately popped it between the lips of her vulva, pushing it well inside the vagina.

'How many would you like, sir?' she asked, pushing more strawberries into the gash. 'Help yourself to cream.'

After they had overcome their initial astonishment, the guests began to enjoy the display, encouraging Athena to fill her vagina to the brim.

'Enough,' cried Ulysses. 'Leave room for the cream.'

He leaned over Athena, parting her labia wide with one hand, and pouring the thick cream into the orifice with the other until it overflowed. The excess trickled down the cleft, over her rectum.

'Before you feast on it,' Nestor called, allow me to make it into a strawberry fool. And he squatted against the cheeks of Athena's bottom before levering his body over her folded figure. Niobe took his quivering penis, aimed it at the brimming entrance to Athena's vulva, for Nestor to slide the stiff penis into the cream.

The guests cried out with admiration, Aphrodite clapping her hands together with glee. The cream sloshed out as the stiff cock displaced it, stained with crushed strawberry juice. After a few strokes, Nestor removed his penis, coated with strawberries and cream, offering it to Hera to taste.

'Strawberry sauce, ma'am?'

Ulysses pulled Athena on top of his face, scooping the fruit from her dripping vulva with his tongue before pushing her down to mount him, his elegant shaft sliding in and out of the vulva, frothing with crushed strawberries and cream, flooding his pubic hairs, staining them bright red.

Aphrodite pushed Neleus onto his back, squatting over his face as she took an eclair from the dish. She slowly inserted the chocolate-coated eclair between the parted lips into her vagina until most of it was immersed. Then, tensing her inner muscles, the cream was extruded from the eclair into Neleus's mouth.

He happily gobbled away at the eclair as Aphrodite expelled it out of her vagina. After gobbling it all, Aphrodite slid down his body to impale herself on his hard shaft. Melted chocolate coated her soft folds, assisted by the secret honey of paradise. She plunged herself up and down on his manhood with great vigour!

Meantime, after Hera had licked Nestor clean, he pushed her onto her back, lifting her thighs. Looking round he spotted the ice-cream logs in a dish. He thrust one deep into her vulva. After a few strokes, the outer layer of chocolate started to melt. With the shock of the cold seeping into her warm vagina, Hera cried out with an orgasmic shriek.

Nestor crushed the cream deep into her with his erect penis with a firm shove, before bucking furiously into her. The sensation was incredible. Nestor was unable to resist the effect it had on him. With a cry of surprise, his own cream spurted into Hera's lush receptacle, now awash with melted chocolate, cream and sperm, as she moaned and whimpered her delight.

Niobe had twisted sideways to face Theseus beside her, who was sat back, propping himself up with his elbows, watching the others with amusement in his keen eyes. Taking up the jug of clear honey, Niobe poured a generous helping over his massive, ebony phallus, straining proudly, adding a spoonful of cream, before going down on him.

As she did, Theseus reached over for the bowl of chocolate truffles, and stuffed five of them into Niobe's vulva. Then, rolling her over onto her back, he crouched across her so that she could continue licking away at his shaft. He took up a half-empty bottle of champagne, stuffing the neck between her soft lips, smeared with chocolate.

Jerking it in and out vigorously, the fizz almost brought Niobe to an orgasm. The sensation was like a thousand little tongues licking every little fold of her vaginal flesh. After the cool wine had quenched the fire in her loins, Theseus's tongue searched inside Niobe's vulva for the truffles, now melting to a sweet, thick sludge.

But Theseus was getting too aroused, eager to thrust his heavy weapon, of matching colour, into the mud. He rotated his body and slid his thick shaft directly between the coated lips. Niobe gasped with shock as the shaft stretched her chocolate-filled vagina. Once penetrated, she revelled at the sensation trickling through her loins.

Venus and Adonis sat to one side, watching the four couples roll on the cushions, fornicating wildly. Hands were everywhere, breasts were kneaded, vulvas filled with cocks, testicles squeezed. Cream and chocolate was smeared everywhere. Aphrodite and Athena dragged Theseus and Nestor from their partners, ruthlessly rolling them onto their backs to mount their stained penises.

The two other men moved quickly to Niobe and Hera, penetrating their dripping vacated passages without any preliminaries. Moans and whimpers, loud and uninhibited, filled the room as the couples wallowed in sheer eroticism, melted chocolate, crushed strawberries and cream, soft ice-cream and honey generously smudged over their bodies.

During the wrestling, Neleus scooped a handful of thick cream from the jug to smear it over Hera's olive-coloured breasts, massaging it vigorously as he thrust his cock heavily into her. Ulysses fell sideways from Niobe, found the chocolate sauce and poured it over her belly. Clotted cream was applied to Theseus' penis; strawberry puree coated Neleus's testicles.

Soon, the bodies were intermingling. Various sauces and toppings were emptied into the mass of bodies, eclairs crushed between clefts of buttocks. Cocks were thrust in and out of different vulvas, whichever happened to be empty at the time. The women grabbed with abandon at the swaying cocks, gobbling them voraciously before recklessly crushing them into their vaginas.

They turned into animals, growling and snapping. Thighs and tender cheeks of bottoms were bitten, breasts were slapped about, testicles pulled. Cries of pain began to fill the air. Cassandra and Apollo, now naked, armed themselves with leather straps. They set about flaying the seething mass of bodies, indiscriminately aiming for soft buttocks and thighs.

The sounds of the whacks mingled with screams, moans and whimpers, filling the room with sounds of sheer, wild sexual desire. Sprays of cream and chocolate rose from the thrashed bodies.

Niobe, bounding on Nestor's penis, was beaten over her back by the strap. Seeing Theseus pull away from Aphrodite, his penis spurting powerful jets of sperm, Hera reached out to catch the spray in her mouth before he threw himself on her shoving the massive shaft, still-dripping, deep into her vacant vagina.

Nestor was beginning to buck violently against Niobe. He was near exploding. Anxious to see the spurting sperm, her favourite sight, Niobe pulleded her loins away, pushing them at Nestor's face, taking his smooth penis in her hand, pulling at it as the muscles contracted. Nestor's tongue lapped furiously at Niobe's clitoris and labia, sending waves of excitement through her loins.

With a thrust of his hips, and a loud groan, Nestor's penis erupted, showering Niobe's hands with several bursts of thick, hot man-made cream. The sight of such an offering brought about a wave of pure lechery, triggering her own explosive orgasm and cry of joy as she ground her vulva against Nestor's eager mouth.

Neleus was being fellated greedily by Aphrodite, whilst Ulysses licked and nibbled her vulva and clitoris, Cassandra lashing her back with the strap. The screwed-up eyes and rolling head, twitching loins, showed Neleus to be nearing his climax. But Ulysses's teasing tongue bought about Aphrodite's orgasm first.

Her groin thrashed about wildly as the release swept over her, sucking recklessly on Neleus's throbbing shaft. With a yell, his vaulting hips thrust his cock deep into Aphrodite's hot mouth, showering sperm into her throat. After the first jet, she pulled it away, allowing the sperm to splash its globules over her shoulder.

Ulysses's penis was now being mouth-fucked rapidly by Athena, brushing the bare glans between her lips, as the foreskin was pulled back and forth. His sperm spurted against her teeth, dribbling over her chin and hand.

When their spasms had all subsided, the three couples watched silently as Hera, now in the dominant position, battered relentlessly against Theseus's groin, shuddering and bouncing her loins over the thrusts of the huge phallus beneath her. Her folds of flesh clung urgently to the driving shaft as it pulled out, to be crushed back into the opening as it drove back again.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 19



Then the fantasy took another twist. Standing one on either side of the heaving buttocks of Hera, Cassandra and Apollo struck the cheeks with their leather straps in rhythm with the strokes. The flesh rapidly took on a crimson and blue blotched colour. Furrows of angry red stripes swelled up on the skin.

Hera's cries of agony were terrible to hear. She screamed for mercy. She whimpered and groaned. With writhing body, recoiling against the blows, her thrusts continued uncontrolled, until the orgasm crashed into her groin. It was violent and noisy. Hera shrieked furiously, eyes crewed shut, tossing her loins about, her breasts swaying lewdly.

'Show us your volcanic eruption, Theseus,' Niobe cried as she saw his hips begin to heave. Withdrawing from Hera, his penis rested in the cleavage of her buttocks.

They watched his loins tense and quiver, his penis jerk. His thick cream suddenly erupted, several spurts spraying the blotchy cheeks of Hera's trembling bottom. Niobe watched in awe. She was endlessly fascinated by male ejaculations. Although his second coming, Theseus's sperm was still thick and copious.

Aphrodite reached over to caress the stickiness gently into Hera's tender flesh.

As a finale to the orgy, Apollo shouted to Cassandra.

'Come here, bitch! It is not your place to beat the Gods and their women without permission. You have to be punished for your insolence!'

He grabbed her wrist and forced Cassandra to lean over the table. Taking up one of the discarded straps, Apollo raised his arm high and brought the instrument down hard across her lush, rounded bottom. It sank with a sickening sound into the soft flesh.

Without pause, he raised his arm again and again, lashing Cassandra's unprotected behind. His body twisted with the effort, his long stiff penis waving lewdly. It wasn't long before the soft flesh was swelling with crimson weals.

The puffy vulva didn't escape punishment either, for Apollo's aim was indiscriminate. Cassandra screamed and wailed as her body jolted like a rag doll as the blows rained down, stings of searing pain racking her voluptuous frame. Suddenly discarding the weapon, Apollo took hold of his stiff shaft, driving it deep into her hot vulva, now burning with stinging pain.

She cried out again, but this time with sexual hunger. Her body shook with lechery and exhilaration. The ravishing was vicious. Hera, incensed by the savagery of the assault, took up the strap and laid heavily into the naked Apollo. She beat his taught buttocks without mercy, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, until he jarred his loins heavily, pulling out of the tight vulva as jets of sperm arched over the heaving back and red-blotched buttocks of Cassandra.

After the writhing bodies had quietened, the guests lay exhausted on and around the tables, amongst the crushed fruit, the chocolate and the cream. They eventually wrapped themselves in towelling robes. Gertie was overwhelmed by the action. When she had recovered with a liberal helping of brandy, she asked Julie how she knew about her fantasies.

'Simple!' she replied. 'I asked Bill. He told me you enjoyed to watch, and even indulge in, fruity sessions and the occasional flogging. So! Voila!'

The showers and baths were occupied most of that afternoon.



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 20



It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's violent revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her pastor. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's related her experience of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards, whilst Jake, the actor, had a delightful story about an African tribe whose Princess found her Prince and enjoyed the sexual rites of marriage with the whole village. On the morning of the sixth day, the Author told her tale of two French pen pals vying to fuck their English correspondent - one of them got the mother instead. After lunch, they had enjoyed a Grecian romp amongst the soft fruit, chocolate sauce and cream.

Chapter 20. The Director's Tale. The Wedding Nuptials

After dinner the guests made their way into the lounge. Everyone was in a jolly mood. Emma sat with Bill in one of the copious settees whilst Mary and Anne, both wearing only leather thongs for a halter bra, a heavily studded leather belt round the waist, and calf length black leather boots, served coffee and liqueurs.

The contrast between the two ladies caused much good humoured comment. Mary with her shaven groin, inner thighs and vulva except for a circular patch of close cropped curly hair on her swollen mound contrasted with Anne's genitals, which were covered with a prominent expanse of lush, black curly hair reaching a peak at her navel, spreading from hip bone to hip bone, down the inner sides of her thighs, entirely covering her vulva - so that her clitoral hood peeped out of the thicket rather like a small penis - continuing into the cleft of her bottom.

Emma had rarely seen such a thatch on a man, let alone a woman. The two women allowed themselves to be teased good-humouredly, their nipples to be kissed and nibbled by the men and the cheeks of their bottoms stroked, as they served the drinks.

Julie called the guests to attention. 'Tonight's story is from George. It's about a succession of mistaken bedrooms, I believe.'

George was a Director of a large international food company, whose wife, the insatiable bubbly Susan, was a best-selling author. At thirty-seven, he was a highly sexed man and boasted to be able to ejaculate at least three times a day and, being a handsome man, was attractive to women. His secretary and another of the office girls were attracted to him and he frequently took both of them together in his office during the lunch hour and Susan at night. Even then, he sometimes had to masturbate to keep his sexual demands satisfied. In his younger days would masturbate frequently. He was in very much love with his penis.

George settled down with a happy chuckle. 'For this story, I want to take you back to the days, not all that long ago, when hotels were staffed by page boys who carried messages, boots who collected shoes from outside the bedroom doors in the early hours of the morning to have them polished, maids who brought tea and biscuits to your room if requested, and your morning cup of tea to the bedside.

'They even filled the bath with hot water if you asked them to. In those days you couldn't take a companion other than your spouse to your bedroom and hall porters were expert in spotting non-guests crossing the foyer - they claimed that it was an inevitable look of guilt in the eyes which gave them away. The central figure in my story is called Barry.'

This was his story.

Barry was feeling a bit depressed. He'd been told by his manager that he was to help with staffing an exhibition stand for his company which he had joined only a few weeks earlier straight out of a secretarial college. He was only twenty.

This duty involved driving up North on Saturday morning to meet up with two older colleagues in the exhibition hall after lunch. He hadn't met either of them before, but understood they would be travelling separately, one with his secretary.

Barry was made welcome, and they spent the rest of the day, up to dinner, checking the exhibits, preparing the hospitality cupboard - having freely sampled the bottle of brandy - and making sure that the coffee machine was in working order. In short, doing the thousand and one jobs that need to be done before an exhibition hall opens its doors.

Mary helped the day to pass with her cheerful banter. She was in her late twenties and still a spinster, though she was attractive enough. Barry was mildly curious to know why she was still single. He didn't know her well, since she was from the Yorkshire regional offices.

Kevin was one of the sales managers and Mary's boss. For a Yorkshireman, he was fairly quiet but, as Barry would later find, had a genuine sense of humour. He was a slender six feet tall with auburn wavy hair and a neat moustache. Barry guessed him to be in his mid thirties.

Jack was the eldest and a Mancunian. Running to fat with an unhealthy complexion, hair turning grey at the temples, he had a dry sense of humour. His conversation was liberally peppered with swear words. He couldn't construct a sentence without them. As the day wore on Barry found that Jack did as little manual work as he could, using his authority to persuade Barry to do most of it.

'I've bloody done enough of these bloody exhibitions in my time. I've bloody sweated enough! It's the youngster's bloody turn now,' was typical of his view. 

Mary and the two colleagues kept Barry amused - and each other for that matter - with a flow of lively banter which helped the day to pass without boredom.

After finishing the work, they went across to their hotel, which was just on the edge of the town, to freshen up and change before dinner. When they got there, they found a wedding party in full swing in the ballroom, with a dance band and couples gliding round the floor. There was a lot of laughter, with tables groaning with cold meats and other delicacies. The four workers agreed to meet up in the bar in half-an-hour's time after freshening up.

It was an olde worlde tavern, full of character and charm, not unlike this one, but short of the full range of modern amenities. Well, it was still the early fifties, after all! There was a wide, central staircase with heavily carved rails, leading to a rectangular gallery, around which were a number of bedrooms. At each corner of the gallery were toilets and bathrooms.

Barry's was a comfortable room, decorated with mock-tudor panels (or perhaps it was real Tudor for all Barry knew about these things), a double-bed covered with a fluffy eiderdown, a central four-branched chandelier, and a vanity unit in the corner by the window. The thick piled carpet and bedside table lamps added a touch of luxury. Never having stayed in a proper hotel before, Barry had nothing to compare the facilities with. As far as he was concerned, it was a very comfortable room. And so it was.

He put his suitcase on the stand behind the door, closed the heavy, lined curtains and, since he was to stay their for four nights, unpacked his clothes into the wardrobe and drawers. After a quick shave and wash, he changed into casual slacks and blazer. Then down to the bar.

The wedding party was getting a bit rowdy, with a group of young men in shirt sleeves, loose ties and florid faces, making a lot of noise. Barry noticed the bride, still in her bridal veil and gown, sat at the far end of the room with a small group of older people. Barry noticed some pretty girls among the guests making him wish that he could be a part of the gaiety.

He passed through into the bar. Only Kevin and Mary were there, sat on stools, half way through a drink, talking seriously, heads close together. It was an intimate scene. Barry noticed Kevin's hand patting Mary's thigh as though to underline what he was saying to her. When Barry approached, Kevin quickly took his hand away and grinned.

'What'll you have, Barry? Beer? Or a sherry, perhaps?'

Barry chose a pint of John Smith's bitter. A waiter was busy behind the bar, filling large glass jugs with foaming ale to be taken to the wedding guests. Mary handed Barry the dinner menu for him to consider whilst his pint of beer was being pulled. Jack finally arrived in the bar, adding to the order for beer, claiming that his wife had kept him on the bloody phone complaining about the neighbour's bloody dog chasing their cat.

It was an excellent meal, with much lively talk over it, two bottles of wine to help it along, followed by brandies and cigars for the men and a glass of port for Mary. All on expenses of course! During the meal, Jack mentioned that he had stayed in this hotel once or twice a few years ago, when it was frequented during the week by a number of sales executives.

They had confided to Jack that if you would like a visitor to relieve your loneliness during the night, you should leave the door of the bedroom slightly ajar, and a five pound note on the bedside table. Now five pounds was quite a lot in those days. Ten times at least today's value.

This produced much laughter and disbelief from the others, but Jack insisted that it was true.

'It was bloody extra income for the maids on night bloody duty. Many took advantage of it! They're not all bloody pretty or even fucking young. It's usually the older bloody ones who take advantage of the extra income. Nor are they all fucking chambermaids,' he went on.

Susan explained that she would cut out Jack's frequent swearing, leaving it to the imagination of the guests!

He went on to tell them that some of the visitors were local wives who came to the cocktail bar early, looking for the extra buck. The floor maids could make an extra fifteen pounds in one night, or even more if there's a lot of salesmen staying. That can add up to quite a lot in a week.

'And, after all,' Jack added, 'with a few drinks inside you, what chap worries about appearances in the dark.'

Mary chipped in. 'And what hungry maid worries what the chap looks like when there's a crisp fiver on the bedside table for the taking?'

'And some of these salesmen live away from home for night after night, so it's not surprising they get lonely for a warm lady to cuddle up to.'

Mary teased Jack with having sampled the delights of the hotel himself, and that was how he knew all the details.

'Oh no! I don't go for that sort of thing these days. But there was a time, you know, when you could get the porter of the most respectable hotel to arrange for a lady to join you in your bedroom. Of course, you'd have to be a regular, known to the porter, and agree to the going rate. The porter got his cut from the ladies.

'Strictly against the rules of the house, of course, but there you are. Fornicating was a crime, you know, until relatively recently. True!' He nodded to underline the truth of what he was saying.

Mary laughed at the serious look on Jack's face.

'Well, it's still not exactly tolerated today, is it? In spite of the new permissive society. I mean, my cousin was cited as correspondent in a divorce case not long ago, and her father threw her out of the house. Although she protested her innocence, he said she'd brought shame and humiliation on the family. It turned out that she was quite innocent, but that didn't matter! She'd been cited, and that was enough! The mud would stick.'

Mary gave a sudden yawn. 'Oh, do pardon me!' she apologised. 'It's been a hard day. I think I'll have an early night. Another busy day tomorrow!'

She left the three men to get themselves more drinks in the bar. Over a night cap, Jack reminded the other two that the general hotel lights would be switched out at midnight, apart from an emergency light in the lobby. Energy saving was all the rage. So his advice to them was to use the bathrooms in good time if they wanted to avoid falling down the staircase! Then he too decided to retire early for the night, with Kevin following shortly afterwards.

It was still only around eleven o'clock, so Barry got himself a final drink, sitting quietly in the corner of the bar where he could see across the hall, through the double doors to the ballroom, the remnants of the wedding party winding up. The band was still playing, with several couples slouching round the dance floor pretending to dance.

A knot of women was standing in the far corner talking animatedly. One was the bride and two of the others were obviously bridesmaids. They were casting dark looks at four men in striped trousers and shirt-sleeves, swaying with an excess of alcohol, arguing drunkenly, though it was clear that they didn't know what it was they were arguing about. One of them finally failed in his effort to remain upright and crumpled to the floor. The others bent over him trying to bring him round, but he was flat out.

The bride broke away from her companions, sweeping across the room to the foyer, followed by the two bridesmaids. She spoke to the hall porter, who called for the duty porter and handed him a key. He went up the stairs followed by the bride with one of her bridesmaids.

The other bridesmaid paused to speak angrily to the four inebriated men before following up the staircase in the wake of her friends. Two of the four managed, with some difficulty, to lift the unconscious one to his feet. With one arm over each of the two men's shoulders, he was lugged through the hall and, with his feet dragging behind, bumping on each step, hauled up the staircase.

The fourth man came into the bar, looking rather bedraggled, to order a brandy. He noticed Barry.

'Pissed out of his mind he is!' he said, shaking his head sadly. 'What a wedding night he's going to have!'

'Is that the groom?' Barry was surprised.

'Aye!' he said as he paid the barman for the brandy. 'I'll just have this nightcap then I'll have to be off. The wife'll no doubt kill me when she gets me home! At least, the bride's in for a quiet night's sleep!'

And with that, he staggered his way across the lobby back into the ballroom.

Barry finished his drink, asking the porter for a pot of tea to be sent up to his room, before going up to his room. There was a scattering of colourful confetti on the stair-carpet. He heard raised voices from the room next to his but couldn't make out what was being said.

Leaving the door off the latch for the maid with the tea, he got himself into his pyjamas. There came a knock at the door. Barry slipped on his dressing gown, as he called for her to come in. The floor maid turned out to be a young, fresh-faced woman carrying the tray of tea and biscuits.

Thanking her, he pressed a shilling into the palm of her hand as a tip. Barry smiled at her pleasantly. She returned him an open, warm smile of thanks, pocketing the coin without looking at it. As she left the room the maid paused in the doorway to wish Barry goodnight, with a wistful smile, before closing the door behind her.

Barry stood looking after her thoughtfully. She was a very pleasant young lady. A bit in the plump side and very cuddly. Barry sat on the bed sipping a cup of tea whilst speculating about Jack's story about leaving the door ajar to tempt a visitor. That maid had certainly given him a friendly smile. He wondered!

He took his toilet bag with him to the bathroom and tried to imagine her climbing into bed with him. Back in his room, he switched on the radio above the bed head, keeping the volume low, listening to the end of Saturday Night Theatre whilst he finished his tea. His thoughts were never far away from the maid's winning smile. In his imagination he watched her undress, revealing her naked white breasts with their deep pink - almost brown - nipples thrusting out. He was aware of his penis stirring at the prospect of a bit of action.

'Huh! Fat chance!' he thought. 'Still, I wonder? Well, there's nothing to be lost, and you never know.'

So before getting into his bed, he placed a crisp, white five pound note on the bedside table and took the door off the latch so that it was barely ajar. Only if it was pushed could someone be sure if was not closed properly.

He switched off the bedside light. In spite of his curiosity about the maid, plus a healthy erection, physical weariness overcame him so that he was soon fast asleep, cradling his hopeful cock in his hand.

Now, in the room next to Barry's, the drunken groom snored away, sleeping off the excesses of the wedding party, whilst his dismayed wife lay at his side in a state of resentment and bewilderment.

During the reception and evening supper dance, she had watched helplessly as the groom got more and more incapable. No amount of warning had prevented him from getting paralytic drunk with his rugby pals. It was just as much their fault, she knew, but at least, on his wedding day he might, for once, have restrained himself from drinking too much.

Her parents, thank goodness, had left before he had started rolling about. Belinda had finally had enough when he collapsed in a drunken stupor running from the ballroom to the bridal chamber in tears of anger, with her two sympathetic bridesmaids pursuing her. The groom's mates had managed to drag him up to the bedroom and undress him.

It was so humiliating for her, to sit by the dressing table watching her husband being stripped naked. The bridesmaids looked away, but Belinda stared sadly at his lolling, indolent penis with its sagging balls as the two mates pulled on his pyjamas before rolling him between the sheets, covering him up. They looked at her with shamefaced eyes before leaving her. Some wedding night!

Belinda had kept his sexual advances at bay for the past eighteen months so that their wedding night would be one to remember. It hadn't been easy but she had managed by mutual masturbation to hang on to him.

Technically she was no longer a virgin since a problem had required her to have the hymen removed clinically, but she remained unpenetrated by any male. All the anticipation and expectation for the final fulfilment of her wedding day to the man she loved, dashed by his selfish over-indulgence.

Tears of self pity filled up her eyes as she slowly unfastened the wedding dress and hung it in the wardrobe. She pulled her under-slip over her head, unclasped the brassiere and draped them over the back of the chair. She removed her silk French knickers in a delicate shade of rose pink. The sexy garters were intended to excite her husband in readiness for their nuptial love making. She peeled off her silk stockings.

Standing in front of the mirror the bride massaged her full breasts which had been so squashed and marked by the pinching brassiere and fluffed up her pubic hair, before taking out of the drawer her wedding-night nightdress. It was of fine silk with a delicate embroidery, allowing the nipples to show through provocatively.

'All a waste of time and money,' she thought in a fit of self-pity, as her inert husband lay quietly snoring. She slid into bed and cried herself to sleep.

But Belinda woke up with a pressing bladder. In her disappointment, she had overlooked going to the bathroom before getting into bed. The champagne and white wine she had drunk had worked through her system. She lay in bed for a few moments, trying to work out where the bathrooms were.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 20



She remembered there was one on either end of the landing. The dial of her watch showed twenty minutes past midnight. Sliding quietly out of bed she slipped on her silk dressing gown. Belinda decided not to switch on the bedside light in case it woke her husband, since the bedroom door was at her side of the bed. She opened it silently, leaving it slightly ajar to make it easier for her to find the room on the way back.

She groped her way down the dark landing to the bathroom easily enough. After relieving herself, Belinda groped her way back down the landing, feeling cautiously at the doors until she came to the one left ajar. She went in, closed the door silently, dropping her dressing gown on the floor beside the bed before slipping between the sheets.

Belinda curled up to go back to sleep. Her husband put his arm across her, gently touching her left breast. She wasn't sure whether he was still asleep or just trying to make up to her. Her nipples started to stiffen up. His penis started to do the same against her bottom. But she was still very angry with him, so decided not to encourage him.

In fact, she avoided even whispering to him. Let him stew until morning. But, even so, the manipulation of her nipple accompanied by his stiff cock pressing against her thighs, aroused her body, whether she wanted to or not. It would, she supposed, rescue something from the disaster of her wedding night, though hardly the night of passion she had looked forward to.

'A quick fuck is better than none, she thought.' The familiar flutter of excitement in her belly surely meant that she was starting to lubricate freely down there. She was in no mood for a passionate session, but her loins were certainly heating up.

'Damn it!' she thought, 'my wedding night isn't going to be entirely platonic. I've waited long enough for cock, so I'm going to have it!'

She pulled up the hem of her nightdress and stealthily fingered between the lips of her sex. She was juicy enough to let him in without undue fuss, so she reached between her legs, took hold of his stiffness, played with it for a few minutes, then directed it to her entrance.

She nuzzled its head between the open lips and wriggled it about until it slotted into the entrance of her secret opening. She felt him thrust into her without any difficulty and gave herself up to his rhythmic plunging.

'Oooooo! God! That's lovely! Oh, yes! Much better than a banana or cucumber,' her usual sex partners, she thought as she relished her first experience of a hot cock deep inside her at long last. 

As he became more animated she rolled onto her front, her face hugging the pillow. Opening her legs fully, Belinda pushed her bottom up to his lunging. It was much more sensual than she had imagined it would be. It was indescribably wonderful! She felt his fingers on her swollen clitoris, rolling and paddling in the wetness.

Her breathing started to rasp, becoming irregular as he worked his fingers, still lunging his cock hard into her with quickening and deeper thrusts. This was sure to bring her to the boil, quickly bringing her to a crashing orgasm. Her body stiffened and the tension reached its shattering peak as she thrashed her legs in the throes of her ecstasy, to the accompaniment of a harsh, low cry.

The penis went on plunging, its own juices gathering the pace increased. The thrusts became more violent. Then, an abundant ejaculation stabbed into Belinda, with juddering jerks. Spurt after spurt of seed gushed deep into her sloppy, willing flesh. After his spasms had subsided he rolled off her allowing her to turn back onto her side. He bent over her to kiss her nipples.

Belinda stiffened with utterly astonishment. What had happened to his moustache?

'My God,' she thought, 'who is this person who has just fucked me?' She pushed the face away from her breast, sat up and peered into the darkness, but could make out no features.

In a panic she slipped out of bed, picked up her dressing gown, putting it over her shoulders as she moved to the door. She slipped quickly from the room, groped her way down the corridor to find the next door was also ajar.

'Bloody hell!' she thought. 'I've been in the wrong room and been fucked by a stranger. He's taken my virginity on my wedding night! Oh, my God!'

It was certainly not one of those very realistic dreams Barry had woken from! It had really happened! The scent of her perfume lingered. The maid had obviously gone to the trouble to make herself seductive, he decided. She hadn't said a word, but just lay on her side, with her back to him.

Her sudden departure was a disappointment; he'd wanted a lingering cuddle and another feel. Ah, well! He looked at his watch. It was quarter to two. Everything had happened so quickly that he had hardly had the time to take it in. He wasn't complaining but it was all something of a puzzle.

Would he tell the others about his nocturnal visitor? No, perhaps not! They wouldn't believe him and would only tease him unmercifully. After all, there were three more nights to go. The young maid may wish to repeat the adventure. Barry smiled happily at the prospect, cradled his satisfied, but still willing genitals, as he rolled onto his side to sleep. It was worth every penny, he thought.

Whilst this episode was taking place, Mary hadn't been able to sleep. Kevin had visited her bed for a short time earlier, but he was tired, without the energy for a sexual encounter. He had left her frustrated with unfulfilled desire.

It occurred to her that Barry might have fallen for the door ajar story. She had felt sure that he would. Chuckling to herself, Mary decided that it was worth a try. Besides, he would think she was one of the maids come to claim her fiver. Just then, Mary heard someone creeping down the corridor.

After a few minutes wait she stole from her room, leaving her door slightly ajar so that she could find it again, and fumbled her way by feeling the wall. Hers was next to the end room but she wasn't sure where Barry's room was. But if he had left it ajar, she knew she'd find it.

Sure enough, she found the door which swung slowly open noiselessly to her touch. She edged her way quietly inside, pushed the door to, but left it off the latch. There was the sound of light snoring from the bed, with a faint smell of stale beer mingled with a heavy scent.

'Strong after-shave,' Mary thought as she tiptoed to the side of the bed. Giggling to herself, she slipped her hand under the covers, groping around until she found the soft penis and warm testicles. The snoring was interrupted by a grunt but no sign of him waking up.

Nevertheless she soon felt the soft muscle begin to stiffen and expand slowly in her palm. Mary always enjoyed the process of bringing a man to full stiffness with her inquisitive fingers, but this time it took her a little time to bring it to a reasonable rigidity. She drew the covers back carefully, to take the half-stiff penis in her mouth to try to get it harder, with some success.

Not wanting to bring him off yet, she knelt on the bed, straddling over him, and impaled herself on the thick column of flesh. Her wetness was still adequate enough for it to slip into her warmth without difficulty.

So, whilst the bride in the next room thought she was being fucked by her husband, Mary was fucking the groom, thinking it was Barry.

She softly jostled her bottom up and down whilst manipulating her clitoris with her fingers. Eventually, as her breathing became heavier and irregular, she felt the tightening of her orgasm rising to a crescendo. Just as it hit her, she was aware of the door opening and someone coming into the room.

'Goodness!' Mary thought, 'it must be one of the maids come to earn the fiver after all!'

But it was too late for her to prevent stifled grunts of pleasure as the orgasm hit her. The door quickly closed again. After two or three more final clenching thrusts Mary paused to regain her breath. Just as she was climbing off the grunting form, she felt the penis jerk, ejaculating its sperm between her lips with final dribbles into his pyjamas.

'What the ... ' The figure in the bed moved and began to moan and mutter. 'Wha'satime?'

Mary drew the clothes back over the reclining form and felt on the side table for the five pound note. If Barry was to think his ruse had worked it was necessary to keep up the pretence by taking the money.

There wasn't any.

'Oh what the hell, where is it?' she wondered. 'I'd better get out before he wakes up properly!'

But, poor Belinda was mortified with embarrassment!

She had returned to what she thought was her bedroom but had intruded on couple having a good fuck from the sound of things!

'Oh dear! I must have mixed up the rooms,' she thought, leaning against the wall outside, feeling completely disorientated. 'Where the hell am I? Perhaps I've gone the wrong way.'

Retracing her steps, carefully feeling along the wall, she found a door ajar. It was with a heaving sigh of relief that she slipped into the dark room, taking care to lock the door before taking off her dressing gown, and slid between the sheets.

It wasn't until then that she realised that her husband wasn't in the bed.

'What the ...? Ah! he's probably woken up with a bursting bladder - not really surprising - and gone along to the bathroom. I'd better unlock the door for him to get back in.'

And she did, before curling up to go back to sleep feeling somewhat bewildered.

As Belinda was trying to come to terms with the events of the evening, Kevin, in the next room had regained consciousness with a decidedly hard, throbbing penis. He had been too tired to do justice to Mary earlier, but he was thirsting for it now! He remembered her parting words.

'If you change your mind, I'm just next door. Don't bother to knock. It won't be locked.'

'Now! There's an offer I can't refuse,' he thought to himself. So he swung his legs out of bed, went to the door and opened it a crack to look out into the corridor. All was dark and quiet, so he eased his way to the door of the next room.

As Mary had promised, it was unlocked. He crept in, reached the side of the bed, knelt there, slipping his hand under the cover, feeling for the cheeks of Mary's bottom.

Kevin began caressing the luscious globes of warm, firm flesh, allowing his strokes to carry his hand between the thighs which opened slightly to give him access to the hot, sticky mass of hair covering her genitals. He was pleasantly surprised at how soaking she was.

Only, of course, it wasn't Mary. It was Belinda! 

'She must be as randy as hell!' he thought. 'I wonder what she's dreaming about?'

'I'm not going to let on,' Belinda said to herself, still feeling full of remorse for having been taken by a stranger. The caressing hand of her husband, she thought, returned from the bathroom was consoling.

'I'll pretend to be asleep. But that first fuck was so nice, it's given me the taste for more, so I'll open my legs for him.'

And she did!

With this encouragement, Kevin cautiously peeled back the bedclothes so as not to disturb her, reaching over to plant kisses on the cheeks of her bottom. His roaming lips and tongue sneaked into the crack between the cheeks, down into her warm humid crack.

Belinda knew that her husband enjoyed licking her pussy. She daren't stop him, even though he would be unaware that the oozing honey he was lapping greedily was mostly the remains of Barry's discharge.

Feeling her to be well worked up, Kevin moved to a kneeling position between Belinda's thighs, now wide apart. He lifted her waist gently, sliding his rigid cock cleanly and smoothly into her hot, tight waiting passage.

'Gosh!' Kevin thought, 'she's a bit on the tight side tonight. That feels wonderful.'

Belinda purred contentedly to herself as the stiff cock ploughed deep in and out of her snug soaking flesh.

'At last!' she thought happily. 'This is so good! I love it!'

Pressing herself against the thrusting loins, she savoured the long thrusts whilst lightly fingering her clitoris. Her orgasm was swift and powerful as she grunted her joy and approval at the sweet release. Kevin put extra effort into his thrusts until he himself felt the tenseness gripping at his testicles. His seed exploded deep into her willing body.

After a few moments of rest, Kevin whispered to her. 

'Thank's love!' Then he stole out of the bed, returning quietly to his room without another word. 

Belinda's eyes opened wide with bewilderment. Why should her husband should leave the room again?

'Why the hell did he thank me? she asked herself. She groped her hand over the bed side table to look at her husband's luminous watch. But in its place she found a small lady's wrist watch!

'Oh my God!' she wailed to herself. 'Where am I? And who was that who's just fucked me?'

Belinda switched on the bedside lamp only to find a woman's clothes draped over the chair. 

She began to weep tears of anger and anguish! She would have to think things through carefully! 'I'll go back to the bathroom again and start from scratch.'

It was then that she remembered that their bed-room was the one opposite the head of the staircase. 'That's where I'll start!'

At the moment Kevin had crept into Mary's bedroom, Mary had left what she thought was a bewildered Barry, chuckling to herself.

'I'll ask him in the morning if he put out a fiver!'

She groped her way along the darkened corridor feeling for her door off the latch. When the door of the next room swung open silently, she sneaked into what she thought was her room. But was, in fact, Barry's.

Mary shrugged off her robe in the dark, slipping between the sheets. To her surprise, she felt another body there. Her searching hand found a semi-stiff penis. It never occurred to her that she was in the wrong room.

'Kevin must have decided he wanted a fuck after all,' she thought happily, with her own lust still unfulfilled. Barry awoke with a grunt to find another woman fondling his cock.

'Sh-h-h,' Mary warned him. 'I wanted some more sex, as well. Just lay back.'

Assuming it to be the maid returned, and not wishing to refuse the lady, Barry lay on his back.

'Well, she's not getting another fiver!' he told himself.

Mary folded back the sheets to take his now fully stiff cock into her warm mouth, giving him a long sensuous mouth job. She knew Kevin liked to lick her out, particularly after he had ejaculated deep inside her.

With this in mind, she climbed over Barry, kneeling with open thighs above his face, and lowered her groin over his face. Mary pushed her soaking wet fanny against his mouth, allowing it to dribble over his lips, whilst continuing to gobble at his stiff cock and fondle his balls.

Barry lapped at the dripping fanny in a delirium of disbelief! It wasn't long before Mary felt his muscles begin to tense. Desperate to feel hard cock deep inside her, she turned round to impale her soft aching fanny onto the stiff, throbbing cock.

So while Belinda was mistakenly being fucked vigorously by Kevin thinking it was Mary, Mary was now was fucking Barry thinking it was Kevin! And she was getting close to her orgasm.

A flicker of her fingers against her little button, as she bounced her bottom heavily up and down on the cock, brought about the sudden shock of a mighty orgasm. She wriggled and bounced vigorously, her head thrown back, her eyes screwed tight.

The welcome, heady, sensation raced through her muscles, her vaginal muscles tightly clutching its visitor. This was all too much for Barry. His cock spurted with grateful enthusiasm into the plunging sloppiness of the eager fanny. Their muffled cries went unheard in the next room, where the couple were similarly stifling their own enjoyment.

When she came round from her reverie, Mary reached for her watch on the bedside table, but realised that it was a man's watch.

'Oh hell!' She thought. 'I must have somehow got into bed with the newly married groom, probably whilst his wife's in the bathroom.'

She remembered hearing someone creep past the door. She quickly got off the bed, picked up her gown and left the room, breathing heavily.

The next door up the corridor was ajar. She went in cautiously, satisfied herself that this indeed her own room and lay down with a sigh of relief.

'Gosh!' she thought, 'three fucks with three different cocks. Things are looking up. So this is what they mean by the permissive society!'

It was then that she heard the boards creak faintly outside her room. 'Just in time!' she thought. 'It's the bride creeping back to her room.'

Indeed, it was Belinda, who finally managed to locate her bedroom at the top of the staircase, to join her husband in bed. He turned over.

'Is that you, darling?' she asked stupidly.

'Who the hell did you think it is? That was a great fuck darling,' he muttered to her thickly, 'but I wasn't fully awake. So, let's have another.'

Unable to understand what he was talking about, but having been twice fucked already, she was in no position to refuse. It was with a sigh of relief that her hand found his thick swollen cock, fondling it to still greater hardness.

'Come on then, darling. Get it in and for goodness sake, shag me hard and long. But let me given you a good suck first.'

She pulled her nightdress over her head so that her bare breasts hung loose in his groping hands. During a long passionate kiss his hand felt at the clammy heat between her legs.

'You're certainly ready. I've never known you as wet as this before. It's actually dribbling down your thighs. Let me lick it out.'

And much to Belinda's shame, throwing her thighs wide apart and lifting them as far as her shoulders, her husband's tongue scooped up the cocktail of sex juices seeping from her fanny. And Belinda tasted Mary's juices smeared on his shaft as she suckled it.

Before long, they were fucking hard. So it was that she was filled with her third load of sperm, reaching her third wedding-night orgasm. It was certainly a night to remember but somewhat different from the one she'd expected!

The following morning Barry was bewildered to see that the five pound note was still where he had put it the previous evening. Perhaps the maid had just suddenly panicked and ran? Both times?

A floor maid brought Barry a cup of tea at 8.30. It was a different maid to the one who came to him the previous night so there could be no meaningful exchange of looks or glances. He eventually went down to breakfast.

Kevin and a bleary-eyed Mary were just leaving the breakfast table.

'Did you get your fiver back?' Mary asked with a knowing smile.

Barry looked blankly at her before joining Jack. He put his room key on the table beside him. It was one of those huge brass affairs with the room number stamped on it in large digits, which ensured you didn't leave the hotel with the key in your pocket.

The other two had already eaten. Barry ordered his Sunday morning breakfast of bacon and eggs with coffee and toast and was well into the toast and marmalade when the newly-wed couple passed their table.

As the fragrance of the bride's perfume wafted across the table, he recognised it straight away as that worn by the first lady who had come into his bed the previous night. He looked up in undisguised surprise, their eyes meeting briefly before she diverted her blushing face. She had noticed the number on his key fob. It was the room next to theirs!

Barry decided to leave his door ajar again that night. But, alas, there were no visitors.

There was a swell of laughter and spontaneous applause for George's story from the other couples.

'I don't believe a word of it!' Laurie laughed, 'but it was fun while it lasted.'

'Well, I suppose I have embroidered it a bit, but the basic story-line is true! The bride really did get into the wrong room and what young man would look a gift horse in the mouth? Or, in this case, a gift bride?'




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 20



There was a flutter of amused talk between the guests, speculating on the misfortune of a bride losing her virginity to a stranger by mistake. The potential outcome was too embarrassing to contemplate

As George paused to finish his coffee. It was agreed that, under the circumstances, the woman could hardly be aware of any physical difference between her new husband and another man until she discovered the absence of the moustache.

'I wonder if she became pregnant from the amorous encounters?' asked Julie.

Everyone roared with laughter. 



Chesterbury Tales Pt. 21



 The end of the story will only make sense to those who read the first chapter.

It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home. The TV Presenter's related her experience of group sex with an African Chief and his bodyguards, whilst Jake, the actor, had a delightful story about an African tribe whose Princess found her Prince. The final tale from the Marketing Director was how, on her wedding night, the bride managed to lose her virginity to three men!

Chapter Twenty-one: The final game

After the story of the wedding night, and since this was to be the last night of their captivity, it was agreed that the men should retire to their rooms, leaving the doors ajar. The ladies would then slip into a room and enjoy half an hour of sex with the occupier before moving into the next bedroom, until each had lain with all the men.

Julie spoke up. 'Before we retire, though, ladies, I think we should all show our genuine love and affection for Jake. It's up to all of us to thank him for his generous love during the past few days. He's given us a new dimension to our love making!'

'Hear hear!' Susan added, serious for a change.

Julie sat cross-legged on a settee, with Jake's head reclining in her lap, whilst the others sat around his relaxed body. They began to cuddle him, pet him, caress him, stroke him, kiss him and fondle him. Not in an overtly sexual way, but in a show of real love and affection. Every square inch of his body was fondled and caressed. His torso stroked, his thighs smoothed, his lips kissed, his face licked, his ear lobes nibbled.

Eventually, and inevitably, attention turned to his genitals. The women were gratified to see his fine, ebony penis respond, jerking itself throb by throb to a full-blown, stiff rigidity. After a few moments of careful attention to the rearing monster by the women, kissing and licking it, fingering the dark, wrinkled testicles with light strokes, Gertie straddled over him, facing his parted feet.

Emma took hold of his prominent prick, pointed it at Gertie's cunt lips who impaled herself slowly on the rigid rod. Turning to Robert and Martin, Susan - laughing with delight as usual - and Enid sat on their laps, impaling themselves on their stiff pricks, wriggling their bottoms from time to time. With the help of the other ladies, who busily caressed the men's thighs and fondled their testicles, they were kept on the boil, watching Gertie and Jake.

Gertie was slowly gliding up and down Jake's thick black rod, the swollen lips of her vulva clinging tightly to the rigid shaft, her juices coating it liberally with her honey. The strokes came faster and more reckless as she began to feel the enthusiasm growing within her.

Emma knew from her earlier experience what Gertie must be feeling with that thick hard shaft filling her willing soft flesh. Her eyes were glued to the scene before her, watching the large dark-skinned shaft slipping in and out of the swollen, almost purple, lips of Gertie's ample vulva. Emma was feeling promiscuous with all this erotic activity, making no objection when she felt fingers probing between the cheeks of her bottom.

They reached through to fondle the warmth of her floppy folds of hairy flesh. She glanced round to see who it was and found Mary smiling at her over her shoulder. Emma smiled back in encouragement and pushed herself back firmly on the teasing fingers, reaching her own hand behind her to return the complement by feeling Mary's smooth, wet genitals between smooth thighs, toying with the protruding dribbling lips. Their faces closed together and met in an affectionate kiss.

Bill took advantage of Emma's distraction to cup his hand between the plump thighs of Anne, who was occupied fondling Jakes testicles. Bill was fascinated by the hairiness of Anne's genital region, trailing his fingers between the silky curls, snaking their way into the slippery folds of her vulva. His other hand reached for her breasts, set high on her chest, to softly squeeze the fulness and caress the hardened nipple.

Gertie felt Jake begin to tense his loins, starting to jerk with involuntary spasms. 'He's going to come girls!' she announced, lifting herself off him and sliding backwards until her wide furry loins covered Jake's mouth and nose.

She grasped his throbbing ebony rod in both hands. The women craned their heads nearer, holding their breath in anticipation and exhilaration.

The tension continued to mounted inside Jake. His groin began to tremble and shake visibly with increasing intensity. His knees juddered spontaneously. With eyes screwed up, his groaning mouth gobbling furiously on the sweet cunt, his whole face twisted into contortions of frustrating agony. The trembling grew wilder as the ladies kept their eyes on the small crimson crevice at the tip of the large polished bulbous head. Their fascination intensified with excitement as Gertie tried to control his jerking body.

With a sudden explosive yell from Jake, an abrupt thrust of his groin, a small globule of starchy liquid emerged from the crevice, dribbling over Gertie's fingers firmly massaging the column. Almost immediately, another thrust of the hips brought a bigger spurt, then, with a mighty lunge accompanied by an animal cry, three successive gushes of thick starchy liquid exploded from the opening and erupted in glittering sprays onto Gertie's right cheek and shoulder.

The ogling ladies gasped in awe and girlish delight at this display of virility. Susan clapped her hands together, laughing with pleasurable surprise. During a short tense pause before a sixth less forceful jet of juice burst from the opening, Emma let out a long murmur of incredibility as an orgasm, brought on by the combination of Mary's fluttering fingers on her clitoris and watching the surging semen, rippled through her.

The thick globule of Jake's sperm splashed over Gertie's breasts, followed immediately by a seventh and eighth with successive diminishing force and quantity, as the tremors of Jake's body abated. A late, minor twitch brought out a ninth blob of thick juice which dribbled down Gertie's hand, now grasping the bottom of the shaft and pulling back the skin to show the women the liquid oozing from the dark purple head.

She leaned her head down, placed her open mouth over the bulb of the ebony shaft, squeezing her hand up the shaft until the last drops of Jake's emission was expelled onto her tongue. The whole ejection process had lasted some eight seconds. Jake was smiling broadly and happily, gently licking Gertie's generous cunt.

Gertie slithered forward, sat once more on the still erect shaft as Enid stepped up to her with a desert spoon to scrape the thick trickles from her face, shoulder and breasts into its bowl until she had gathered up all but a smear.

'Look!' she said, presenting the spoonful of semen to the other ladies. 'That's some load of come girls!' 

Emma whispered, 'Wow!'

The spoon was passed round for the ladies to sniff at. Emma dipped in her little finger, licking it as she sat back to nestle her vulva in Mary's warm palm beneath her. Delia laughed at that, took a goblet from the side-table, placed the spoon in it so that the thinning liquid tricked from the spoon, adding champagne until the glass was full.

Stirring the spoon briskly in the pale liquid, she swigged the lot down to the amusement of the others. Emma clapped her hand together with delight at this aphrodisiac show of lust whilst Susan chuckled merrily.

Susan stood up from Martin's lap to reveal his sturdy six-inch shaft, rising proudly from its sparse nest of fine fleecy hair. His testicles hugged tightly to the bottom of the shaft rather than tucked beneath his legs. If anything, the balls stood slightly proud of his thighs.

Delia squatted to the right of George's chair, reached into his lap and drew back the foreskin of the pointed penis uncovering the head, which wasn't broad and round but shaped more like a small rugby ball. She began jerking it up and down slowly.

'Look,' she called to the others, holding her hand still, drawing their attention to the trickle of clear fluid leaking from the end. She looked into George's face, grinning as she continued the stroking at a faster rate.

'Lean back,' she told him. He did as she asked and Mary immediately stood astride his face, lowering her shaven cunt to his mouth. Delia's hand rubbed faster and faster as she concentrated on the slit in the end. More liquid seeped out onto her clenched fist. To help him along, she leaned over and took the penis in her mouth, continuing with her jerks whilst rolling her tongue over the end and closing her lips holding over it to nibble the end.

George licked at Mary's cunt with relish, pressing his tongue round her clitoris, between the cunt lips, scooping up the juices into his mouth. It wasn't long before his hips suddenly lifted from the seat, his hand gripping the side of the ottoman as his loins started to clench and his thighs flutter. He moaned louder and louder with frustration into Anne's cunt as the tautness built up inside his groin.

Delia lifted her head and looked down with open mouth as she concentrated on pumping his wet shaft even harder until his loins began to jerk fitfully with increasing vigour. The onlookers leaned forward, all eyes glued onto the end of George's torpedo. It continued to buck in a paroxysm of jerks, his knees flexing rapidly as liquid oozed from the end of his shaft.

When it seemed that George would burst, he gave a mighty bellow. His shaft erupted in a long stream of white semen. It gushed out, splashing into the corner of Julie's waiting mouth. After a brief, breath-taking pause, another cry accompanied a second, then a third jet. His convulsions abated but twitches continued as two more spurts of liquid flowed from his penis over Julie's slower moving fist.

The liquid was less thick than Jake's and came in short streams rather than thick globules. It ran down Julie's cheeks and dripped onto his groin. The ladies were overwhelmed by the loud shouts and sheer power of George's orgasm. Only when he gave a huge sigh of relief with a final trickle of sperm did they clap, with murmurs of approval and congratulations.

'That calls for another pick-me-up,' Julie announced and Mary brought him a glass of brandy and champagne as Susan ran to his side and kissed him passionately on the lips.

'Thank you darling!,' she said to him, 'that was absolutely magnificent. Such a wonderful orgasm; I was so proud it,' and she nuzzled her face into his lap, kissing and lapping at his softening torpedo. He pressed her face into his lap as he smiled with self-esteem at the other ladies.

Finally it was Robert's turn to show off his prowess. He was a natural exhibitionist, enjoying the undivided attention his erection demanded. He flexed the muscles in his groin to make his stiffness jerk back and forth. The ladies enjoyed watching that! It was as though it had a life of its own.

He stood and exhibited the pride of his firm athletic body. Not quite up to Jake's extraordinary dimensions, Emma thought as she studied Robert's swaggering penis, but still a superb example of male endowment. The lack of hair round the base made it appear bigger, perhaps. Certainly the lack of hair gave it a depraved appearance, with its swarthy, olive bloom, rearing vertically above a bag of hairless flesh distinctly showing two large plum shapes weighing down the sack.

Only a rock-hard penis could hold that weight up, she thought. She saw that the shank had a thick inch-long scar on the upper side, the result of an unfortunate accident when he was younger she had been told. It provided a hard ridge below the natural one where his large head met the shaft, giving an additional thrill to the ladies during intercourse.

He was now ready to show his virility, since he had been taking his usual aphrodisiacs during the day; Korean ginseng and Spanish fly which a regular customer had brought him from Switzerland, strong ale and champagne washing down half-a-dozen oysters for his lunch. Besides, the scenes he had just witnessed had turned him on.

His cock was swollen to near bursting point but he knew that the firm discipline he applied earlier in the evening to avoid ejaculation would give him some additional staying power before the final moment of release. Mary gave him a brandy and champagne cocktail which he sipped slowly as he stood, legs apart and groin thrust forward for the benefit of the audience.

Julie laughed. 'Come on Bob. We've seen it before. Get on with it.' But Emma was hypnotised by it, unable to avert her eyes from his pride. Bill watched her fascination with quiet amusement.

Robert smiled at Julie. 'We'll do it standing up, I think, Susan. From behind me. Anyone can join in if they feel like it.'

Julie laughed again. 'If they like the feel, you mean!'

Susan stood laughing behind Robert, pressed her body into his muscular back and, reaching her hands round his middle, grasped the upright shaft in both hands and began slowly to jerk it up and down. Robert looked down with pride at the sight of the half exposed head with Susan's closed hands sliding the outer sheath of skin up and down the stiff inner shank, pushing his foreskin over the head and dragging it back over the shaft.

Emma was now kneeling in front of Robert, her gaze rooted to his prominent part, scrutinising the raised scar and every vein and the baldness of his groin. The muscles in his thighs and bottom were tensed and prominent, like whipcord.

Mary suddenly called out, 'Shoot it into Emma's mouth.' Emma leaned back onto her heels, her arms propping her up from behind, sliding her knees between Robert's parted legs, positioning her mouth in front of the cock.

'Go on, Bob! Do it!' Julie cried out.

Robert loved a challenge. 'I'll have to finish myself off then, so that I can get a proper aim!'

He took over the manual urging of his shaft with his right hand from Susan, whilst she reached through the cheeks of his bottom. Chuckling happily, she cradled his heavy balls in one hand whilst, having wet the middle finger of the other with the slime of her nether lips, she eased the first inch of it into the brown puckered orifice hidden between his thighs. Robert gave a jerk as he felt the finger enter his anus, pushing slowly in and out.

He was beginning to breathe hard. Enid, kneeling, had edged her way to Emma's side and started to finger her vulva, opening its petals to show Robert the pink inner flesh whilst rubbing her thumb over the clitoris. Mary, Anne, Julie and Delia all stood in front of Robert, wide open knees half-bent, loins thrust forward. The fingers of one hand parted their fanny lips, the other fingers fluttering around the genitals, flaunting them at Robert.

Robert's senses were aflame with at the sight of all the women flaunting their genitals at him, fingering their various cunts. His loins were now tightening, clenching and unclenching, desperation growing inside his groin. The finger invading his anus was inflaming his craving for release. He deliberately relaxed his muscles to boost the taunting tension to a higher pitch, watching pearls of fluid drip from his bulb onto his slowly jerking fist.

Involuntary twitches abruptly gripped his insides until his groin was in the grip of a supercharged tension. Gazing at the tantalising display of women's vulvas, he still held back, keeping his muscles relaxed with all his will-power. But a persistent trembling shook his entire body. He threw his head back, screwed up his face with the effort, howling like a wolf as his knees gave beneath him, his hips beginning to buck wildly.

He was starting to lose control of his muscles but still he managed to hold back. Then, with a snarling howl, the cock suddenly burst. His head snapped forward to look down at Emma as he pulled back on his shaft, thrusting his hips forward.

With a great surge of relief his floodgates opened with a huge outburst of viscous fluid. Forcing his stiff shaft downwards, the first emission caught Emma's nose, trailing into her mouth. This brought up a loud cheer from the onlookers. Robert's loins recoiled and thrust forward again, twice in quick succession, disgorging more gouts of his seed. Emma moved her head quickly, managing to catch one of the spurts in her mouth, the other splashing her chin.

'Yeah!' cried Susan as the shaft convulsed yet again with a double contraction, spilling a seemingly unending stream of gelatinous juices splattered over Emma.

Emma counting nine spurts at irregular intervals before the convulsions had finally died down. Robert must have been ejaculating for over twelve seconds. Gertie had taken the desert spoon to hold under the end of Robert's projection. He squeezed his hand up the shaft to empty a long dribble of liquid into the spoon.

Scooping up what she could of the gooey sperm from Emma's face and breasts, Gertie filled until the spoon would hold no more. On the side of her little finger, Enid scraped up the sticky remains sucking it clean after each wipe. Robert was grinning with pleasure and self-admiration. The ladies were amazed by the abundance of sperm. Julie clapped her hands in delight.

'That, ladies,' she told them, 'is what you get from swilling down oysters with champagne and applying self control until your body overwhelms your efforts to resist it's irresistible sex drive.' 

Emma was most impressed. 'Gosh, how often can you do that?' she asked. Robert just smiled at her.

'OK folks!' Robert called them to attention. 'It's your own time now. Just settle down and relax to prepare for the night activities.'

Emma immediately crossed to Bill, sat him in a chair, lowered herself onto his lap, kissing him long and hard with eager tongue exploring his inner lips and teeth. She was going to enjoy her last evening to the full. His limp penis was beginning to show signs of life once again as Emma fondled it, feeling the pulsing expansion of the shaft.

Julie, on the other hand, made a bee-line for Jake, hauling him onto the floor among a nest of cushions to kiss him passionately. She whimpered with sensuality as her hands roved freely and eagerly over his dark body, her fingers running though the mass of curly hair below his belly, curling them between his hips and cupping his balls for a few moments before moving up to grasp the base of his iron-hard shaft.

'You have a simply wonderful set of equipment, Jake,' she purred into his ears. Her kisses moved down his chest and belly until her cheek butted up against his stiff ramrod.

'Yours are superb as well!' he whispered in response. 'Such sexy tits and a welcome slippery fanny. I can't remember having spilt so much sperm over four days before.'

'And still more to come, I hope!' She turned her head and took the bulb between her lips as her hand began to slowly stroke the dark rod. She felt his sensitive fingers exploring her bottom and inner thighs, dipping into her wet entrance as she parted her legs.




Chesterbury Tales Pt. 21



'I sure hope so, ma'am! I sure hope so!' His lips found a long, ready nipple as his cock responded to the loving attention.

After a relaxing half hour or so, with wandering hands exploring genitals, whilst they sipped strong cocoa and brandy, the men finally got up to saunter up the staircase into the various rooms. The ladies then passed a few moments reminiscing about the few wonderful days of unbridled sex they had enjoyed before moving upstairs. They went up in alphabetical order, agreeing to close the bedroom door they had chosen after entering.

Being the first to leave, Emma knew which room Bill would be in. She wanted to spend the whole of the last night with him, having succumbed to the party spirit by joining in the sexual romps earlier in the evening. She would close and lock the door! Enid followed, then Delia, Julie and Susan.

Once in the darkened room, each lady would slip into the bed beside the reclining figure already there. Hands would slowly begin to search the warm body, stroking the flesh, wandering over the buttocks and thigh, seeking out the rod of female bliss. That piece of man made for her pleasure; the shaft which would penetrate her soft centre, her luscious pliant vagina. Once found, a few tender strokes would succeed in bringing the length of muscle to full stretch, ready to delight her.

The reclining body would reciprocate by reaching a hand behind to feel for the inner thighs of the female body, fingers trying to locate the slippery lips of feminine rapture, swollen with anticipation of a welcome visitor, penetrating the soft inner folds of her shrine of love. The soft valleys between the thick labia would be examined, the labia parted and the soft buds protecting the entrance to the very object of their search, pushed aside th allow the finger to probe the secret passage, leaking juices of expectation.

In a few minutes the only sounds in the hotel were those of sighs and murmurs of delight, accompanied by the light sounds of sucking lips, tongues kissing other lips and tongues and other noises of sexual activity. Unidentified hands and tongues were busily caressing bodies - warm slippery folds of flesh, dangling damp bags of plums, stiff smooth rods of hard flesh, soft pliable breasts with erect nipples and velvety cheeks of bottoms.

Before very long, legs were sprawling apart to admit the hard rods into the welcoming warmth of slippery womanly folds, provoking sighs of ecstasy. Heaving loins were evidence of that ultimate ecstatic experience between woman and man. Some breasts would be bouncing as their owners took the initiative, lunging on men's groins, controlling the penetration and force of their encounter.

In each bedroom, hands clawed at swaying breasts and swinging balls as grunts and whimpers became more intense. Wet tongues licked nubbly nipples; dark secret fleshy flips between thighs; hard columns of smooth trembling flesh. The activity increased to a writhing mass of half-naked figures fulfilling their natural purpose, enjoying the process to the full. 

After her first orgasm, Emma usually reached further climaxes without problems. So she enjoyed a quick orgasm with Bill, before relishing in several more of varying intensities until she felt Bill finally discharged his appreciation inside her.

Various shrieks, loud gasps and wails rustled in the air in the corridor, announcing that the other women had also enjoyed the experience. Cries of 'Fuck me! Fuck me!', 'Oh! Christ!', 'Harder, faster!' could be heard amongst the strangled screams of agonising joy. Enid in particular reached her peak of ecstacy with an awe-inspiring orgasm, with thrashing limbs and screams of anguish.

After a few moments of quiet, bedroom doors began to open as the women appeared in dressing gowns, assembling in the lounge until all had appeared. Nothing was said as Enid rose to climb the stairs and push open another bedroom door. The others followed at intervals.

Once again, the hotel was soon alive with copulating bodies on heaving beds. This routine continued until well into the early hours of the morning. A final heavy silence descended over the building as exhausted bodies succumbed to a refreshing sleep.

During a break in their passionate activities, Bill begged Emma to join him for the next week-end at his country home.

'Look, Bill. On the first night, and tonight, we've both thoroughly enjoyed sex with other strange partners. OK, so I haven't been fucked tonight, though you have. I've just sucked. And I loved it! Is that the proper basis for a permanent relationship? Would it last?'

'Why not? If we recognise each other's needs and feel no pang of jealousy when they're being met, that's great! We can have as much or a little additional sexual fun as we might want without our relationship suffering.'

Emma wasn't so sure, but promised to consider it.

'But I think we should stay apart for at least two weeks, Bill. After all, it might be just a passing infatuation on both our parts. And conditions here have been rather unusual, to say the least. I know deep in my heart that I love you as I have never experienced love before. I never even knew such depths of love and respect for another person were possible. But I still enjoy other men - I should say other pricks I suppose. Look, when we get back to our real lives, the prospect may look very different.'

'I want you to promise, then, that you will get in touch with me in two weeks time. Otherwise, I shall come to find you.'

Their lips met. As they kissed each other deeply and passionately, their bodies caressing each other until Bill's aroused shaft once more nudged it's way between Emma's thighs into her welcoming, warm vagina. After a long, tender session of love-making, they fell asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening brought Emma out of her sleep. She half-opened one eye lazily to see Mary, looking bright and cheerful, putting the tray of tea on the bed-side table. Her hair was tidy and she was wearing a neat, conventional waitress outfit. She was very attractive, Emma thought. And with perfect breasts.

Mary smiled at Emma and whispered, 'Eight-thirty! Hope you slept well!' She added a cheeky wink before opening the heavy curtains part way to let a shaft of sunlight into the room.

Emma felt warm and snug with Bill still curled up behind her, sleeping. Her hand found his hot groin, lightly touching the soft, damp genitals inside his pyjamas. She was feeling sad that their time together was nearly up but time would tell whether or not her relationship with Bill and their feeling for each other were deep and sincere enough to continue.

Right now, she wanted him. Emma ducked her head beneath the bed-clothes to wriggle down to Bill's waist. Her mouth found his soft penis. With her tongue, she rolled Bill's cock over to trace the tip of it along the warm skin before taking it fully into her hot mouth. She tasted the remains of their love-making. A salty, rather stale and musty taste. Not unpleasant.

But nothing about Bill could be unpleasant, she thought.

The softness began to stir, swelling in her mouth as her tongue caressed that most loveable piece of flesh. It slowly stiffened to fill her mouth with the stimulation. With her teeth gripping him lightly, Emma drew back his foreskin to lap devotedly at the sensitive head.

Bill awoke to the carnal pleasures of sex as Emma began to move her head up and down on his now rigid shaft. He adored being fellated. Pushing back the bed-clothes, he put his arms round Emma, managing to jostle her into a position which allowed him to haul her left leg over his face. Her warm, heavy sex lips, already fully aroused and damp, were poised over his face.

He studied that wonderful vision, with its light covering of blonde hairs, before nuzzling his nose between the lips, savouring the smell of her oozing flesh. His tongue lapped at her plump folds, seeking out the special button, the very centre of Emma's body. He felt her quiver lightly as his tongue found it's target, his hands now stroking Emma's soft, pliant breasts, teasing her large, proud nipples.

As they both became more aroused by the other's fondles and kisses, Emma slid down Bill's body, twisting herself round so that her groin was above his. Reaching behind, her hand took hold of Bill's stiffness to guide it to the portals of her sloppy vulva. With a slow sigh she slid down onto him, gripping his hardness with her vaginal muscles.

'I just can't get enough of you, darling,' she whispered.

Emma moved slowly up and down with sobs of emotion and tears in her eyes. Bill's hands caressing the cheeks of her buttocks, his mouth nibbling at her prominent, hard nipples, increased her tension and clenching groin. With a loud, sobbing sigh a feeling of sweet agony swelled quickly within her as she reached her climax. Bill immediately rolled her over without withdrawing from her, pulled her knees up high, and thrust his stiffness into her depths with increasing vigour. Emma's fingers found her clitoris, agitating it in rhythm to Bill's thrusts.

Still sobbing and sighing with emotion, Emma felt Bill's loins tense and shake until, with a loud grunt he emptied himself into her grateful orifice. She had lost count of the number of orgasms she'd had over the past four days. They seemed almost continuous.

They never left each other's side. In the bathroom, in the shower, holding hands quietly as much as they could until it was time to separate.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Julie had taken advantage of Jake's body for a last time, sitting over his large, handsome dark prick, thrilling to her body's excited response to the sliding shaft. Jake's large hands roamed sensuously over Julie's gorgeous full breasts, thumbs paying particular attention to the hard, prominent nipples.

She lowered her body so that Jake could enclose each eager nipple in turn between his sensuous lips. Julie moaned in ecstasy! Her buttocks bounced hard, forcing the large, thick muscle as deep into her cunt as she could. She thrilled as the familiar feeling rose in her until she burst into a climatic wail, lashing her loins against Jake's thighs. Tensing his own muscles, a few strokes was all Jake needed to gasp out loud, jerking his cock as spurts of thick, creamy sperm filled Julie's warm cunt.

Similar sexual activity was being followed in the other bedrooms as the guests took their final chance of mutual enjoyment of the other body. Because of their duties to the other guests, Mary and Anne had taken their joint pleasure with Robert an hour earlier, before preparing trays of tea. Whilst Robert thrust ruthlessly into Mary's hungry vagina, Anne kissed her whimpering face tenderly, stroking her thighs and nuzzling her breasts. Then they reversed positions until, first Anne, then Mary reached noisy orgasms, encouraged by the other to reach exhilarating heights of bliss on Robert's handsome cock.

After calming down, Mary finished by masturbating the hard cock quickly, until she felt his muscles begin to tense more and more. The two naked women listened to Robert's grunts and gasps as his loins jerked in jolting spasms until the sperm exploded from the great shaft, splattering its contents over Anne's heavy breasts. As Robert subsided, the women dabbled their fingers in the pools of sperm, purring with contentment.

Their next pre-occupation for amusement was in guessing who they would find together in the various bedrooms and what they would be up to as they took in the trays of tea. The one certainty was that there would be no singles to cater for. They found Martin in bed with Enid, both still sleeping. Laurie was with Susan, who was still asleep with a smile of contentment on her face.

In the next room, as Mary entered with the tea tray, George was already engaged in fucking Gertie, whilst Delia assisted. Gertie was in the midst of her orgasm, crying and whimpering her pleasure as Delia suckled the dark nipples on the olive-coloured breasts.

At breakfast, everyone was in a jolly, if slightly subdued mood. There was an air of resignation at them having to leave.

'Well! Couldn't last forever,' Laurie said, with a sigh, stating the obvious. 'Back to the grindstone, Cabinet meetings, civil servants and official replies.'

'Never mind, we'll meet up again soon,' Susan laughed, 'though I don't think it'll be quite the same. It was the spontaneous nature of this week-end which made it special.'

'Much better in Boccaccio's time,' Laurie suggested, 'to say nothing of Chaucer's pilgrims. Took them rather longer.'

It was late morning by the time the noise of the snow plough was heard. The guests had spent the morning packing cases and storing them in the boot of their cars.

Robert denied that Emma and Jake owed him anything for their accommodation. 'Goodness me,' he protested, 'you've earned your keep here. All the guests are extremely thrilled at the way you both entered into the spirit of the stay. Bill, in particular, Emma. To say nothing of Julie, Jake! But I think you both already know that.'

To her own surprise, Emma blushed, stammering something about how nice it had been meeting them all. In truth, the other well-heeled guests had made sure that Robert was not out of pocket.

When the sounds of the snow-plough reached them they were drinking hot coffee in the lounge. The men went out into the yard to greet the plough as it came to standstill at the entrance to the drive. Robert hailed the driver and his mate, offering them a hot drink and biscuits.

An AA van followed closely behind to see if there was anything they required of a technical kind. It was suggested that he might just check over the ignition of each car. He was given to key's to Emma's Capri and asked to bring it to the front of the hotel. A reporter and a photographer from the local press had followed behind. Bill, Laurie and Gertie scampered away to hide as soon as they caught sight of a camera.

The reporter took a few details from Robert, asking how they had managed to keep themselves entertained during their days of imprisonment. Showing no sign of embarrassment he merely answered 'Oh, we told a few yarns, played a few games. You know ...'

Fortunately, the reporter did not know!

After lots of hugs and kisses, promises to keep in touch, the odd emotional tear, Emma and Jake got into their Capri. The engine burst into life without hesitation and they slowly crept out of the drive into the road, waving to the others until the car rounded the next bend.

Emma was silent for quite a while. Jake was looking thoughtfully at the snow-covered countryside. As they approached the first town, Emma broke the silence.

'Well, Jake! Did all that really happen or did we dream? Perhaps we went into a time warp or something.'

Jake laughed out loud. 'If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!'

Emma too burst out laughing, suddenly remembering Rick and his fondness for quotations. She'd forgotten all about him until just now! She really had fucked him out of her heart and mind. No messing!

Jake went on. 'I've never in my life had as much sex in such a short time. My testicles have worked overtime! My prick is quite sore with it all!'

'I must say that I feel rather tender and swollen myself,' she said. 'Well! Mum's the word, Jake!'

'Don't you worry about that, Miss Shaw,' he ensured her. 'We were lucky to find a place to stay at all. But as for the guests, well, such a collection of middle-class, middle-aged old farts would be difficult to imagine! What a bore! Still, it gave me time to learn my lines.'

Emma laughed happily. 'Right! I'll drink to that! But I do hope you really found time to learn your lines during those boring days and nights! You've had plenty of time to do it!'

'Yes, ma'am!' Jake chuckled.

When they finally reached their destination, reality had taken over and the Travellers' Rest was like a distant dream. They parked the car at the side of the theatre, and Emma followed Jake through the stage door where she was met by a harassed looking assistant.

'Thank goodness you've arrived, Miss Shaw. As soon as you've sorted things out at this end out they want you back at base, urgently.'

'Whatever for?' Emma asked. 'I've only just got here! Oh, this is Jake Castle, by the way. Maggie is one of our assistants,' she explained to Jake.

Jake smiled at the woman. 'Hi!' he said, speculating on what sort of naked figure lurked beneath her dress - nice tits, he thought.

Without even returning the greeting, she went on. 'There's been some sort of an accident. It seems that Jenny Carver's husband found her in bed with Richard Jones and stabbed him with a paper knife. Up his bottom, I believe. There's a rumour that Rick was shouting something about his heart's delight.'

Emma burst out into fits of laughter. Maggie stared at her in amazement.

'But he's in hospital, in a lot of pain, Miss Shaw! Probably for some time. His understudy is having to carry his performances! There's talk of a court action!'

'Sorry, Maggie!' Emma controlled her mirth. 'No, it's not funny.' But it serves the randy bugger right, she thought. 'I'll get on the 'phone in a minute. Meantime, would you mind taking Jake through to the green room, introduce him to the others. Then I'll try to find the director.'

As she turned to go into the manager's office, a voice called after her. It was the doorman.

'Excuse me, Miss Shaw. These flowers arrived for you half-an-hour ago.' And he handed her an enormous bouquet of superb pink roses.

'My God! These must have cost a packet at this time of the year.'

She opened the little envelope to take out the greeting card. The message was simply 'I love you. For ever. Take care of my roses until we meet again. Bill.'