More Annals of the Friday Flower

"Hello," said Cynthia, hoping she sounded less nervous than she felt. The coming minutes would demonstrate whether her protégé would live up to the image she had projected. Of course she believed he wouldn't falter - but she just didn't know. She said, "This is Dariusz. I told you about him."

The formal manner of the young man in a dark business suit wasn't exactly conducive to relaxation; he circled the room, shaking hands, the hint of a bow for each woman in turn. One by one they looked into his intense, dark eyes and wondered. Now what?

There was the briefest of awkward pauses. It was broken by Dariusz himself. "No doubt you find this strange. But there is no need. Cynthia has explained everything. You are not frivolous people. I understand that you propose to act normally." He seemed to think the phrase might have incorrect implications; six women indulging in group sex might not be construed as normal behaviour. He corrected himself. "To act, that is, as you usually do when you meet. And that I shall have one of you later. Well, that is fine. Serious." With that, Dariusz began to undress.

It seemed more surreal than serious, the contrast between the cool, almost stilted manner of this opening speech and the actions to which it referred. But the calm disrobing that was taking place in front of them was beyond ambiguity. Although Dariusz stopped when he was down to his boxer shorts, the bulge at the front diverted attention from the heavy-lidded dark eyes. "Please," he said, seating himself in an empty armchair, "don't be embarrassed."

Jo took the lead. She and Ann had already discussed how they would approach the occasion - Ann with uncertainty, Jo with enthusiasm. But not by holding aloof. What would be the point? Their now established experience of each other would help. Jo slid one hand under Ann's skirt while unbuttoning her own blouse with the other. Her ample breasts, full, round and pink-tipped, came into view. She wasn't wearing a bra. Helen moved over to join them; another hand to help Jo to remove Ann's knickers; a pool of pale lilac silk on the floor. Jo's tongue was soon active.

Cynthia, satisfied that Dariusz would wait for an invitation to join in, turned her attention to Marjorie; the youngest and the oldest of the women in an open-mouthed kiss, uninhibited by an age gap of nearly twenty years. Their hands fumbled to deal with buttons and zips, opening the way to fondling and fingering.

That left Sylvia. Taking a deep breath, she went to stand in front of Dariusz and lifted her navy knee-length skirt. She wore a black pair of Starlet panties, lace with a mesh band, from Victoria's Secret. Designed no doubt for a younger woman, but she was comfortable with the high waist and confident that aerobic classes and the tennis club kept her figure in good shape. Slowly she removed the flimsy knickers and handed them to Dariusz. This had been Ann's idea: that the day's lucky one should indicate her availability with this gesture.

Dariusz nodded his thanks, removed his boxer shorts to reveal a cock that stood proud and ready to serve. He wrapped the panties round the stem, leaving the circumcised head uncovered, and began to masturbate. While he did so, Sylvia stripped. Garment by garment with pauses between. The dark blouse. The navy skirt. The black lace bra. When all that remained were a skein of pearls falling between heavy breasts with prematurely inflamed nipples, and black stockings supported by an insubstantial suspender belt, she rotated to let Dariusz appreciate a bottom whose taut orbs were wasted on her husband. Without turning, she dropped to her knees, supported herself on her arms and looked back over her shoulder. During the past days she had played this scene in her mind many times. All nervousness had been dispelled. She was ready for him.

Unhurried, Dariusz stood looking down at Sylvia, her knickers still sending silken messages to his cock. He knew she would be wet; waiting could only enhance the internal lubrication. A minute passed. Two. Movement in the room was stilled. The other women abandoned their pleasuring of each other to form a circle of onlookers, fingers moving only in response to what was about to unfold in front of them.

A tiny gasp of excitement escaped Helen's lips when Dariusz finally set the warm black knickers to one side and knelt behind Sylvia. A quick test with his fingers confirmed his expectation. His hand steered his cock between the inflamed labia and continued in one fluent flourish to bury itself to the hilt. Soon he was moving inside her, gripping her hips for stability, building the tempo. The women sitting facing Sylvia saw her bite her lip and close her eyes, internalising the ecstasy, storing it in memory. They knew, as she did, that Sylvia was being fucked with a relentless authority her husband hadn't given her for many years. Possibly never. Already it was obvious that Cynthia's claims for Dariusz's ability as a machinelike stud were no exaggeration.

The coupling was little short of perfection, a master class in fucking. Dariusz turned her onto her back, lifted her so that her weight was supported only on her shoulders, her ankles crossed behind his neck while he pounded into her. Some extraordinary sixth sense had told him that Sylvia could absorb this all-out assault. Not only could, but fervently wanted it. The others, their own arousal matching the intensity of the exhibition in their midst, fingering engorged clitorises, wondered if this was how it would be when their turn came. The Club that had been founded for flower-arranging had come a long way via fantasy and wishful thinking to this. It had changed their lives and on this climactic afternoon behind closed curtains in a suburban drawing room none of them regretted a minute of it.

Somehow, despite the contorted position they had adopted, Dariusz contrived that each withdrawal and insertion of his long, thin cock provided the clitoral friction that sent Sylvia soaring out of control. Even as she came, as the roaring wave or orgasm spread throughout her body, Dariusz didn't falter. His only concession was to let her rest more squarely on her back, her cunt more readily accepting the apparently tireless cock.

The first words spoken for a long while were quiet and almost inaudible from Marjorie. She had profited from the unlocking of Sylvia's passionate appetites at earlier meetings. "Come on, dear. Again."

The spell of silence broken, her encouragement was echoed by others.

"Oh yes," from Ann.

"Do it again!" Jo joining in urgently, her hand driving herself on.

"It's good. Please don't stop." Helen, also on the brink.

The cumulative sexual hysteria that had been a feature of previous gatherings had seized them again. They were intelligent, respectable women belatedly liberated from their upbringing. Had they ever been shy, held back by genteel exteriors, conditioned by a society that hid its innermost thoughts? Later they would reassume that mantle and return to the husbands whose inattention had fertilised this delectable delirium. But not just yet.

Sylvia's second orgasm may have owed something to the verbal exhortations of her friends but mainly it was due the the fact that she had abandoned herself totally to every thrust and caress from Dariusz's endlessly proficient cock. Only when he felt the slackening of her vaginal muscles did Dariusz withdraw, his erection unaffected. He intended a finale for the benefit of everyone.

Kneeling astride Sylvia's torso and sweeping her pearls to one side, he indicated that she should squeeze her breasts together. His cock slid between the smooth mounds, recapitulating the sensation started by her knickers and brought to boiling point by her liquid interior. Even now, Dariusz was able to impose his will upon the climax. Rocking metronomically back and forth he prolonged the inevitable until all the others had closed round them, craning forward to watch. Then, drawing back and circling the base of his cock with thumb and forefinger, he released an arc of sperm. Silvery drops spattered Sylvia's breasts and stomach.

Whatever Cynthia had led them to anticipate, the reality had exceeded it. It was the first time any of them had watched two people fuck. They should have been scandalised. But instead, while watching, they had all with their own personal techniques, reached their own satiety.

When Dariusz, dressed again, the serious accountant again, went round the room shaking hands, making his almost imperceptible bow, every one was counting days until the next time.

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The weeks came and went. Dariusz came and went (in every sense). No two Fridays were quite the same. No woman whose turn it was to be serviced was left unfulfilled. And new ideas were fomenting. Curiously, it was Ann, often the most reticent of them, who proposed the most dramatic innovation. She whispered the idea during one of her private sessions with Jo. Jo discreetly mentioned it to Cynthia. Cynthia, intrigued by this latest development in something she had begun with an unguarded word, tried it out on Dariusz. Dariusz pronounced it unquestionably serious.

When Ann's next turn was due, everyone was aware of what was intended. Suitable preparations had been made. The preliminaries were conducted in their usual fashion, except that there was no caressing and fondling among the other Club members. Fully expecting to be aroused in due course, they were determined to watch first, act later.

Dariusz arrived, went through the formal greetings, undressed and took his seat. Ann stood in front of him unbuttoned the front of her cream linen dress and shrugged it from her shoulders. After she had taken off cream silk knickers and presented them to Dariusz for his cock she was completely naked. Her next move took her to her knees, adopting the posture chosen by Sylvia on the very first occasion and subsequently followed by them all. The difference now was that Jo sat cross-legged at her side.

Jo looked up and held out an arm. Helen opened her handbag, took out a small silver vibrator and a tube of lubricant, passed them down. Jo placed them on the carpet beside her before leaning across to plant a series of kisses on Ann's bottom. Her head moved in decreasing circles until, holding the cheeks apart with two hands, her tongue nuzzled against the pink anal aperture.

At Friday Club meetings members had grown accustomed to a slow build-up of erotic tension. This was different. Within minutes of Dariusz's arrival the air of unspoken excitement had become hardly bearable. Sylvia had opened her blouse and was massaging a breast. Cynthia, usually only an observer, had stepped out of her skirt and her hand was searching inside cinnamon knickers. Self-stimulation took hold but it was largely subconscious; Jo and Ann were the focus of each pair of eyes.

After Jo's tongue, the lubricant, squeezed generously round the general area before it was worked into Ann's bottom with a manicured finger. Then the vibrator, not three inches long and hardly more round than a pencil. Jo inserted it with scrupulous care. The buzzing of the battery was accompanied by the sound of deep palpitating breathing by the onlookers.

This far Jo and Ann's relationship had already reached in their private encounters, stemming from a tentative finger in Ann's bottom at the height of a passionate embrace. Ann was surprised but not fazed. It was new and stimulating, and she wanted it again. The vibrator was the natural follow-up. And then Dariusz had appeared. Dariusz with the long, slim cock. Would he? How would it feel? Not vibrating stainless steel but pulsating flesh.

At the age of forty-seven, she was about to find out.

But not as quickly as she thought. For a long few minutes, Dariusz stood behind her, stroking himself with her knickers, making her wait. Until, unable to suppress the urge, Ann reached back to deal with the need herself. Immediately, Dariusz asked Jo to turn Ann on to her back. Once she was fully exposed, he knelt and entered her. Full, deep penetration, but careful to avoid being too forceful.

Whatever was to follow, he took no short cuts, no swift shagging simply intended to let her know she had a real man between her legs. Dariusz fucked with the same intuitive consideration they had learned to expect from him, no matter who his partner might be.

They had already changed positions three times before he assisted her back on to knees and forearms. While Jo applied more lubricant to Ann's bottom, Dariusz took the tube from her and smeared his cock, still glistening with Ann's own juices, with a liberal coating of gel. They were ready.

His first move was to place the head of his cock against the aperture, allowing it to rest there; he was whispering to Ann to relax the anal muscles as much as possible. He understood that she might be nervous, but she shouldn't worry. He promised to stop at any point that she didn't feel able to continue.

For once, his intuition had failed him. Ann had been preparing herself for this experience. She was on heat with no thought of retreat. With her husband, the very idea would have been unthinkable. But she had seen Dariusz with others, had experienced him herself. What she wanted now - she told herself in so many words - was to feel his cock up her arse.

Dariusz pressed gently against the lubricated orifice. There was a brief reflex tightening on Ann's part but then she relaxed and eased herself back to meet the invading shaft. So subtle and so aware was Darisuz's response, the crucial breakthrough, the distending of the sphincter, was achieved virtually painlessly. Centimetre by centimetre, the cock slipped into the passage Jo had prepared for it.

The next test was to start moving. Again, Dariusz took his time until it was apparent that Ann could accommodate this new sensation not only with ease but with pleasure, with avidity. It was what she had wanted and she was not disappointed. Inevitably, this uninhibited desire communicated itself to Dariusz. He could read the signs. He began to ride, crouching on bent legs to achieve the best angle of entry, the smoothest rhythm, never withdrawing completely, always controlling the strength of thrust. The other women had to take turns to enjoy the best viewing position, to see the way his balls swung through at the end of each insertion. More than one of them was imagining herself in Ann's position on another Friday.

This time, though, there was to be no pulling out, no arc of sperm for the benefit of the non-participants. Ann wanted him to come inside her and had made that part of the scenario. So Dariusz reached his own point of no return. His whole body stiffened, he clung to Ann's hips, his cock pressed inside her, the discharge emptying from him in a series of exquisite spurts. When finally he withdrew a flaccid cock, there were murmurs of approval from all.

The Friday Flower Club had moved on again. Ann had experienced her first anal fuck. What was more, it had been administered by the future Count Dariusz Piotczynski of the Kingdom of Poland, Count of Galicia.