Dunyazad: Tale the Second

Most were richly costumed, although none would have suited the village fete back home – invariably, bits of flesh were exposed that the vicar would have felt inappropriate. Some wore masks, though whether to keep their identities secure or to complete their costumes was unclear. There were ancient Romans in togas, and medieval Turks, and wild-west Indians. Nuns and courtesans, policemen and highwaymen were all represented, as well as several corsairs - not unlike ourselves.

Nearest us, on a settee, sat a red-haired gentleman in the antique uniform of a field marshal of Napoleon's Grand Army. He was pleasuring a woman lying next to him using a distinctly phallic ivory baton. Across from these two was a young lady, dressed in nothing but a frilly cream coloured shirt and stockings, seated astride the lap of a black-coated curate. This sweet young thing was deep in conversation with the Marshal, while the cleric was deep inside of her. I could see his member flash between her thighs as he eased her light frame rhythmically up and down.

Dee, while still demolishing her meal, nudged me with a wicked smile to direct my gaze away from this one show to another one, which was behind a partly drawn curtain on our other side. There on another couch was a beautiful young black girl, laying all exposed amidst the scattered costume of a Nubian princess. She was writhing while a naked blonde licked and nuzzled her bright pink cunnie. The sight was intoxicating – both girls were unusually tall (or long, given their horizontal position) - and buxom. The blonde's skin, although lit with the flush of lust, still seemed almost ivory when set against the other's dark rich glow. Both were oblivious to our presence, aware only of their passion. The blonde began climbing atop her partner to offer her own cunnie for similar attention, and my over-stimulated member was beginning to quiver when I heard a polite cough at my elbow.

Having delivered her burden of wine, our guide asked if we wished to continue the tour. While we were enjoying the food and the view where we were, it seemed reasonable to scout out the land, so we followed the girl to another stairway. I was last in the precession, and as we crossed the room I feasted my senses with the wide range of delectable women represented. As we passed, I nodded to acknowledge the polite smiles of 'Marshal Ney' and the curate's pretty friend.

Having gained the stairs, I also gave time to admire the way our guide's broad bottom moved within its satin sheath, before my roving eye finally focused firmly on Dee's glorious backside.

We paused again at the landing, and the girl, whose name was Jane, told us that on this floor were day rooms, and that the top floor gave way to an atrium. I could see the sun shining through its glazing at the top of the stairs, a welcome sight after what seemed like an age underground. Between were several floors of suites, kept by certain patrons. Her glance at Dee's unabashed display of gold suggested that we could expect inclusion in this select company, if we so wished.

Dee without hesitation plucked a pendant stone from her necklace and slipped it in Jane's hand, saying that such a suite would be acceptable, and that we hoped to see more of her. The girl protested that she was merely a cellar maid, and sought no reward for her small service – a remarkable speech in such a place, but evidently a sincere one. I think it even surprised Dee, who brooked no objection, of course. For my part, I was stunned by the notion of staying there. Not because of the nature of the place's business - after all, I had just spent two happy weeks in a similar establishment. It was simply that I was still thinking only of escape. Of course, on reflection I realized I had no better plan.

We were shown into the nearby manager's office. Dee made the arrangements, in the role of an itinerant grandee of great wealth and wantonness (all quite true). The manager was a round little fellow who resembled a banker, though of better humour. At the appropriate moment I produced a small sack of ancient gold ducats, which were accepted without comment, to be placed on account against our meals, lodging, and such other services of the house as we should desire. Dee requested that Jane attend us exclusively, which I would have supposed was of no great consequence to our new landlord. He, however, showed some hesitation, and asked the girl if she approved of such an arrangement. Upon her considered acceptance, he offered his avuncular approval and then invited her to convey us to our new lodgings.

We were speedily brought to a suite of tasteful opulence (a difficult combination to achieve, you'll allow). Jane set off to gather up more food, and when I turned from the door, there was Dee bounding naked on the vast bed - the original, younger version of Dee. With a double bounce she fell on her back in front of me, legs open, her breasts wobbling exuberantly. With a grin she reached down to spread her cunny wings wide, and I eagerly accepted her offer. I flung aside my breaches and climbed up to kneel between her legs. She giggled at my haste, and then gasped in spite of herself when I plunged my rigid member between her welcoming cunnie lips.

Even as I drove it home, I found myself face to face with the lithe Nubian I had fancied. It had happened in an instant, but not so fast that I couldn't see her stretch and darken. It was dizzying, particularly as her full hair vanished so quickly that it seemed to be drawn into her head. But I was wild with lust, and it would have taken a good deal more than that to put me off such a splendid fuck. Now, in all but Dee's merry unchanged eyes, my cock was lodged in a tall ebony-skinned beauty. She bucked and writhed under my assault, her angular hips surging up to meet mine.

After I had ridden her to some rowdy orgasms (mine and several of hers), I nuzzled her slender neck and rolled onto my side. We continued at a more leisured pace, with one of her legs lifted over mine. And then, once again Dee changed her form, more slowly this time. With my every stroke, her skin tone faded, passing through a pleasingly full array of shades, from chocolate to coffee, through a light caramel to a pink so translucent that it glowed with her passion. At the same time her lean, sinewy form seemed to grow more padded and full. When she was done I beheld (and held!) the twin of the Nubian's blond companion. I returned her cheeky smile – you can see that it was becoming harder to astonish me (or at least harder to divert me) – and then I rolled her on top of me and let her pleasure herself awhile astride my still rigid member – which by then, as on the night previous, felt unnaturally large.

As I gazed on her latest form, I began to wonder what had become of Jane – it didn't seem like a good idea for her to see all this - she might just find Dee's transformations alarming. At any rate, no sooner had the thought entered my head than, just as smoothly as before, Dee's body was subtly redistributed. Now she was freckled all over, her breasts plump and firm, and her head and pussy both topped by flaming red curls. Said pussy was wide-split, her nether lips thinly stretched around my thick root - her belly bulged slightly to accommodate the thing. Her eyes were closed and she licked her smiling lips as her cunnie trembled lightly. And then abruptly she snapped her eyes open and we switched places. Disoriented, I began to spasm uncontrollably, impaled on my own just-relinquished prick. The thing seemed to fill me utterly, and a series of orgasms washed over me in a rolling wave.

She rose to her feet, lifting me easily as she did so. I remained threaded on her prick, and when she sat on a nearby chair I found myself on her lap, facing her. My legs hung down on either side, not quite reaching the floor, so that with every clutching tremor of my borrowed cunnie I sank yet further onto the spit. She had to brace me to keep me from slumping forward, although, impaled as I was, it was quite impossible for me to slip off. Again, I cannot easily describe how intense it was. The slightest movement triggered a fresh orgasm, but each orgasm was accompanied by a frenzy of motion. And so it went, on and on. The muscles within my pussy, too, danced wildly, alternately massaging the invading monster and then relaxing to admit more of it. I was having trouble catching my breath, and all I could manage was a series of incoherent grunts. I would on occasion reach down to check on its inexorable progress, and always find more to follow. Just as I thought I would burst, the pressure on my clitoris proved I now contained its rigid entirety.

It was just at that moment that I caught a motion over Dee's shoulder and saw Jane herself enter the room. We locked eyes – Jane of course seeing her exact double, uncontrollably in the throws of ecstasy. Dee sensed the intrusion, and, just as Jane slumped to the floor in a dead faint, we abruptly switched back. Dee took over the orgasms, and, having satisfied herself there was no danger, carried on. She coped far better than I did, even going so far as to worry her pink little clit with a finger. And as her tight pussy pulled and sucked on me, I had another orgasm, of the sort with which I had more experience. I filled her with a flood of my essence, and when I opened my eyes it was to see Dee again. Grinning cheekily, she climbed off my slightly diminished pole to attend to Jane. She lifted the young woman easily onto a nearby divan and covered her with a fur rug, bestowing soothing kisses on her as she did so. Then she rejoined me, and I nodded off to a contented sleep.

~~~

I woke the next morning with a peaceful feeling of floating. Then the memories flooded back and I sat up with a start. I lay in a large feather bed, with bright sun shining in three tall windows beyond my feet. I was alone, and once again I had the nagging fear that I had descended into madness. There was an elegant breakfast set out nearby, half eaten. Strewn about were bits of exotic clothing, jewellery and weapons. Well, then, perhaps bits of it had happened – but surely not all! I had been drugged, no doubt, to become a modern, nineteenth-century hash-hashin, fighting and loving with insane intensity. I felt clearheaded and refreshed now, at any rate. Of Dee there was no sign.

Just then there was a light tap on the door. Speak of the Devil, I thought, and then remembered some of my fantasies with embarrassment. It was not Dee, however, but the redheaded maid, Jane. She bobbed a tiny curtsy and asked it there was anything we needed. She seemed slightly embarrassed herself, and I wondered how my strange recollections had been played out in reality. I asked her if she had seen my companion, and she blushed even more deeply. No, she said, she did not know where M'lady was.

Suddenly I knew that at some point in the night she and 'My Lady' had spent an intimate moment or three together. As to what she had seen beforehand, well, by the light of morning she would be even more confused than me.

But now – and here I positively blushed myself – I also knew that last night I had both fucked this girl and been this girl ... or, rather, I had been Dee in her shape.

It was all a bit much to comprehend. I decided the best thing would be to step out for a walk, both to clear my head and to determine my whereabouts. Telling Jane I would be back shortly, I pulled on my sorry clothing and boots, and stepped out onto the landing. The place was relatively quiet, with only a few cleaning maids on hand. I went down the stairs and took a dark cloak from a rack of assorted unclaimed clothes near the door (other choices included an admiral's coat – possibly not a costume - and something with a great deal of feathers).

At the main entrance were several large gentlemen standing watch. They gave me a nod; neither of them seemed to notice my clothing, but possibly I would have got no more reaction had I worn the feathered wrap. Once past them I found myself in a small street of prosperous looking homes. There was no evidence of the enterprise behind the door through which I had just passed.

Once I had strolled to the next street I suddenly realized where I was – much farther from the little church than I had expected. I took a notion to send a message to Rollo. The sun continued to warm my bones, and very welcome it was after my time underground.

I was far from alert when I entered Lombard Street, and I was almost opposite the door of the post office when I noticed the policemen. One was across the road, watching a group of approaching youths, but the nearer one was a little way ahead, staring hard at me. I couldn't see how the police would be on my trail, but I had the wit to ignore my intended destination and keep walking. Unfortunately the peeler seemed to have decided I was worth his further attention, and he began to stride toward me.

Still between us was a gap leading to a narrow alleyway, and I turned abruptly inside with the bastard now following in hot pursuit. I immediately saw my mistake – around a bend in the passage was a dead end.

Bugger.

Continued in Tale 3 ...