Lady Lovecome's Diaries: 04

Dear Diary, picture this:

A small slim woman with big black eyes, massive podgy lips, and an annoyingly big bottom struts across her lawns toward a waiting mirror-black helicopter. Her fists are clenched. Her little feet are bare, as is her annoying bottom under her black Bellenciaga cocktail dress. Her dress and her sharp black bob are blown all about by the whirling blades and she finds this exhilarating, especially the powerful wind about her naked nethers. In the distance, behind her, stands her annoyingly big-choppered gardener-stroke-boyfriend. She tosses him a glare and flicks up the back of her skirt so he gets a-- hopefully torturing--flash of bare buttock.

Bullseye! His eyes swell with worry, and his hand raises in a confused farewell.

"Fuck you, Bill," the woman says. But the helicopter drowns it out.

Now, picture this:

One hour later. The same furiously desirable woman is starfished naked on a graphite silk bedspread, writhing in orgasm as she's fed on by eight naked billionaire starlets while their rippling husbands watch in sated, post-coital awe.

Yes Dear Diary, dear Father, dear Bill, dear Whoever-the-fuck-is-reading-this, today I was angry with Bill and took revenge in my own unique way.

Remember, my muscle-bound giant of a gardener and I, Lady Bathsheba Ottoline Lovecome have been having an illicit--if not a little cliched--affair. In my last instalment, my best friend Gabrielle came to stay, then stayed to come, and much excellent fun was had. Eventually.

A few days later, Gabrielle sent me a dildo replica of my apparently loyal gardener's erection. This, remember, is her art, so it's not as odd as it might sound. She has many casts of many excellent penises. So more fun was had. I think I even confessed to you, dear Diary that nothing feels better than being simultaneously licked and fucked by the same man. But then it hit me: how, and when had Gabrielle made a cast of Bill's erect penis? Not just your everyday morning glory either, we're talking Bill at his biggest and hardest, as if someone had been playing with him for some time...

As an aristocrat, I have a rather unique little-black-book. You know that list of numbers everyone has for when they're lonely or needy down below? Well mine is full of invitations mostly, to upmarket sexy soirees that want their reputations made by nearly-royal patronage. I collect the invites for fun because generally they look just awful. And anyway, until recently Bill looked after me rather well down below so I haven't needed to party in that way.

Not today. Today I chose the most exclusive sex party I could find, the kind that sends a helicopter to collect you, and I scrubbed inside and out, deep down clean, ready to be dirty as I liked.

Diary, Bill, It was epic, and I'm going to recount it for you, and then make sure you read it. I understand we're not a couple in the traditional sense, or even exclusive fuck buddies. You're just my gardener for fuck sake. In fact we're doomed to part as soon as Father arranges a marriage for me--the only downside to a life as an entitled billionaire. But still, I didn't expect you to fuck my friend; well, not secretly anyway, not without me. I want you to see how it feels imagining me with someone else, like I'm forced to feel your betrayal every time we use the fucking dildo SHE cast from your monstrously erect penis. What did she do to get you that hard Bill? For me, you only get that veiny when I suck you, and when you're about to come. Or sometimes when I've come on your mouth. Is that what she did? Come on your mouth and suck you? Did you fuck her after? The one thing we deny each other since my father's death threats over getting me pregnant? Where did you come, Bill? In her cunt? Did you like coming in her cunt more than in my mouth? I've never enjoyed cum with anyone before, you know that don't you? Only yours.

So read this. And know I loved every last drop of it.

THE UNICORN AND THE BEAST OF A THOUSAND MOUTHS

The party was in a Bond villain mansion on its own island somewhere. Doesn't matter where. When I arrived, eight beautiful couples were milling about a golden terrace, sipping sunset cocktails and making awkward pre-sex small talk. They were the world's most highly paid models--all female--and their trophy husbands, all of them buff, witty, and--it turned out--very eager to please.

Jaws dropped when I walked onto the terrace. Mouths actually gaped. Any self-consciousness I had about my bubble bum offending these lithe angels fled. In my enforced solitude at Father's estate, it's easy to forget how the press has built me up into something of a unicorn. "The Most Desirable Woman Of All Time" Vogue called me. Little me! And the more invitations I ignore, the more desirable I become it seems. You'd do well to bear that in mind sometimes, Bill. Anyway, you should've seen how these beauties converged on me. I felt like a zookeeper at feeding time.

So many flirty smiles. So many pink cheeks.

The host bowed and scraped and I ignored her, grabbed a glass and drained it, then reached for the tallest, poutiest, cheekboniest girl I could find. I pulled her face down to mine and kissed her hungrily. She tasted as good as she looked, and perhaps she felt the same about me, because she whimpered in my mouth then melted and hummed on my tongue. My hand sought her husband's approval with a huntress will of its own, grabbing the swelling lump in his trousers. He very much approved. In seconds, with a flourish, and without unsuckering from his wife, I had his trousers unfastened and his naked rod bucking in my palm.

The onlookers laughed. Some clapped. All drew closer.

"A room," I said to my glowing host. "Now." Then I strode after her with a beautiful woman in one hand and a beautiful cock in the other. "All of you. Come," I demanded. And not for the last time either.

In a blink and a sashay we were in a bedroom that jutted out from cliffs over the sea. Aside from a floor-to-ceiling panoramic view of the surf, the room was decorated in shades of stormcloud, including a cumulus bed set beneath a mirror--like a silver lining! The monochrome interior of stone and leather and silk seemed purpose-made to make us baubles pop.

Eight couples, that's sixteen people, smooched over me as we explored our possibilities. Other than the one cock I'd unwrapped, we were all still dressed, and the planet's finest fabrics slid over me, hinting at hardnesses and softnesses beneath. Wherever I turned, smiling lips met mine, and glorious perfumes, and hands slid over my arms and back, and, as I filled my grip with firm buttocks and hard fronts and pert breasts, so my admiring crowd's hands returned the favour. I felt like a ball of dough being deliciously kneaded, but also deliciously needed.

Have you ever been adored by a crowd, Bill? I mean tenderly pawed at by sixteen beautiful, highly successful and tasteful people? For their pleasure? Well I can heartily recommend it.

I felt wrapped in some fabulous creature intent on my pleasure, thirty-two hands stroking and squeezing, sixteen mouths seeking mine, or just any bit of skin, and pulling my clothes aside to find it. It was a girl who first discovered I was naked under my dress, because I remember the purr of delight and the claws digging into my bum. My knees wobbled but even gravity didn't matter against this kind of sexual force and my toes left the floor, born aloft by hungry doting. I threw back my head and laughed and the mirrored ceiling showed me flat out and held high, like a stage-diving rock-star, caught and totally in the hands of her adoring fans.

I watched my Ballenciaga unfurl itself from my body and snake away, leaving me naked and exquisitely vulnerable among the elegantly dressed crowd--this beast of a thousand mouths. Happy lips found the places they craved with moans and giggles. My feet parted, and touches got cheeky on my inner thighs and abdomen, spiralling in but still restrained. I was like a starfish floating on an ocean of caresses, being loved up by soft, hot jellyfish.

They turned me this way and that for their delight, while I squirmed in their grip to kiss whoever I could, wherever I could. More clothes peeled away, from my admirers this time, and soon nipples were offered to me, then, tipping me almost upside down, bouncy bottoms met my kisses, and sweet sexes, some yielding and wet, others hot and hard. Meanwhile a thousand little kisses rained down on my breasts and bottom and, at last, my clamouring sex. Then held like a bloom into which they nuzzled and cooed.

My adorers sat me in the middle of the bed, and there were so many naked bodies pressed in on me, I was bewildered by sweeping curves and veiny muscles, all smoothed in every shade of brown and bronze and pink, all shoving or spreading for me. I worked by touch alone, exploring proffered limbs with fingers or lips or tongue in order to determine their masculine or feminine form. Even unexpected combinations of both: a girl stood astride my lap to offer me a kiss with her rudest lips, but a huge and eager penis slid under her from behind until I was licking and sucking both at once. Remember when Gabrielle did this for us, Bill? I didn't, I was enjoying the juicy meat in my mouth too much. Then my eyelids grew heavy. Tongues took turns beneath my splayed, kneeling thighs--and bodies seemed to morph. I mean one minute I'd be running my tongue down the lovely grooves of some epic abs, but just as I got to the great club I was after, the shapes all changed into a bottom, which bent over to present a sopping slot and little pink knot, which melted on my tongue into lovely warm balls dropping into my upturned mouth.

All the while, men rutted at any soft cleft on my body, while women rubbed wetly on any lump, and my mouth couldn't keep up with the demands of it. My cunt, licked by two, sometimes three people at once, fizzled like a firecracker.

Too much. So I put my foot down. "Stop," I said. "Girls, wait. Men, fuck me." I stretched out on my side, cocked a leg, and reached under to spread my cunt and bum cheeks wide."Fuck all of me."

What do you think of that, Bill? Would you like that? To fuck my cunt and my arse? Or would you agonise over it, but fuck Gabrielle instead? Well, all eight of these muscle-bound fuckers leapt right to it.

The women stopped feeding off me to become my handmaidens, manoeuvring their husbands into place for my pleasure. There was a rush for my cunt at first, but I made them promise this was an "excuse me" dance, and all should move on if asked to do so. I also told them that no man could come without my permission and when they came they should do so together and, most importantly, withdraw. I wanted to watch them explode on me. Women were to make sure their men behaved, but in the process could cum as much as they--we--liked. Lucky us.

So, Dear Diary, dear Bill, dear Father, dear Strangers, I was utterly, utterly fucked. Cunt, anus and mouth obviously, but also my hollow fists too as I rubbed a couple of monsters on my nipples. Even the soft pads of my feet joggled on a couple of clubs and my ears were teased by dancing tongues while another cockhead pattered on my giddy clitoris.

I shut my eyes and let myself get profoundly stretched and deeply stuffed. After so long denying myself I felt like an itch was finally, properly getting scratched. Sorry Bill. But isn't that how you felt fucking Gabrielle?

The women did a marvellous job of synchronising their men and licking--or dripping on!--cock tips so they were always slippy on nipples or clit or toes. I felt like I was being force-fed pleasure. The dough of me was pulled this way and that, to let new configurations get access to my arse and cunt and clit, while a constant delicious rut of cocks presented themselves to my mouth and fists for a royal blowjob-cum-titwank.

What started as sensuous, almost exploratory slidings, deep in and out of me, became harder and demanding. I grew needy too, taking meat into my throat, and grinding hard at thrusts down below, possessed of the delirious notion that I might get all the cocks to knock together in my middle. I gobbled at every end. Even my hands milked hard and fast. Even my feet!

The women were crimson-cheeked and glistening-thighed, smirking as they fingered themselves or helped their men swap holes, or just panted into frothy little orgasms. Their men were clearly having trouble holding back, and soon each hot head that plugged my gob was salty with precum. Since you Bill, this taste always sets me off, did you know that? Well it did again today, but this time it wasn't my gardener's precum was it? It was the overexcited juices of a slew of strangers. I sucked as many as I could before I couldn't hold back any longer, and joined my sisters in orgasm. I went rigid, and exploded in rolling, tingling waves. I screamed, cock-muffled by one lucky specimen. The women cheered. The men groaned, but thankfully fucked on. One of them cursed and begged to cum, probably the one in my mouth. I gasped nasally on him and juddered against my pummeling strangers.

My climax didn't go, not really. It left a need behind it, so I ignored the men's quivering, uncontrolled thrusts and the women muttering to hubbies to,"Hold on, hold on!" and the men moaning, "Ma'am, please..." and I shoved and rubbed and sucked for more.

Flash frame: A lithe dancer kneeling by my head arches back, rigid in my mouth while his wife wanks him into me. A dark hulk standing between my splayed thighs is lodged deep in my cunt, his knotted muscles popping. Another huge, hard mattress of a man lies trapped under me, shoving up into my anus while his wife watches, jaw thrust and two fingers knuckle-deep in her cunt. My fists blur two cocks over my stiff nipples, while their wives dip into the scrum to wriggle wet tongues over their tips. A woman, standing behind her sleek, bronzed man--both straddling my leg--jiggles his cockhead on my slippery clit and he rises onto tip-toes and grinds his teeth at the ceiling. Powerful, hirsute twins rub my soft feet frantically on their clubbish cocks while their wives suck their balls.

So I said, "Mmm! Mmm!" And they understood. And eight men roared in chorus, and came.

And they kept their promise too. All inside withdrew--even the man in my mouth--and blasted thick liquid heat over my cheeks and lips, and my cunt, and my bum and my nipples and fingers, and all over my toes. Jet after jet glazed me while men cursed and spasmed in their wive's milking fists and I deliriously nuzzled for more, more, more.

I new ball of fire swelled in my middle, as if filling the space the fucking left inside, ignited by laval splatters across my skin.

"Girls! Now--now--now!" I blathered and the women all but clawed their spent men from me to have their go on the most desirable woman of all time. In the mirror, I looked attacked by lionesses, barely visible beneath the feeding-frenzied heads. Hot tongues lapped every inch of me, cleaning, eating and reheating me. They slurped and sucked at my nipples and fingers and toes, and, oh my good fucking God, my gooey clit and anus.

In a split-second of crackling-edged clarity, like a calm before a storm, I watched their dirty dance. Dutiful husbands took station behind and beneath their wives, burying heads or indefatigable cocks between slippery spread thighs.

The world's most beautiful faces licked cum from me, and from each other, while writhing on their men, gasping, and offering me white-slicked lips and tongues like kisses of life.

Too much! My skin furred, then blossomed, and I released a squeal that came right from my soul. A lightning bolt arched me onto my shoulders and heels and I writhed as if tasered. The girls came with me, grunting and grinding on their lover's mouths or cocks, gaped jaws dripping semen. I wrapped my arms and legs about them, my adoring beauties, and held them tight as I cackled insanely and they jerked and spasmed and cackled with me.

Spent, I drifted into a doze. A few last cat laps cleaned me up, then languorous kisses covered my body, while bass and alto voices murmured breathless thank yous into my ear.

One-by-one, the happy couples gathered their things, and their loved-ones. And they left me alone.

Outside, the surf sighed. For a silly, comatose moment I thought it was your breath.

And here I am, Bill, one helicopter ride and one soapy soak later, wrapped in my towel and thinking about how I'm going to get this into your head. I hope it turns you on as much as it did me. I hope it breaks your heart like you broke mine.

#

Oh dear. Oh no. Oh fuck.

Diary, this arrived on email. A video from Gabrielle. I'll describe it to you.

THE VIDEO

"Bonjour, petite! C'est moi, your sexy little minx best friend. Mwah. Mwah."

It was filmed on a laptop camera in her bright, creatively messy artist's studio. Gabrielle looked gorgeously Hepburn in a sixties baby-doll dress. I was considering how silly Bill got when I wore mine, then realised Gabrielle was wearing that actual dress and that she must've stolen it. I filled it better than her, though. It hung like curtains on her neat little frame and its turmeric colour clashed with her copper curls.

"So, today sweet Bash I am doing you a favour." She leaned conspiratorially into the frame, even though she was quite alone. "I have invited your lovely man to my studio and I will test him for you. I sense you both are hiding big feelings under your skins, so it is my duty to make sure Bill is a man you can trust, non?"

She reddened, like I needed any other proof her motivation was bullshit. She just wanted to fuck my gentle giant. Again. She twirled her hair, and stared into the distance, then cleared her throat. "So. You watch while I tempt him and let us see." A doorbell rang. "Bon!" She scampered off.

Bill wandered into the frame. Too close to see more than his hips, but unmistakably him judging by the tweedy gardeners' uniform my Father made him wear. Then I noticed Gabrielle had set a mirror behind them, revealing their full frames as well. She clearly wanted me to see every detail of what was about to transpire. I guessed this was the day she made a cast of his erection. My stomach flip-flopped. Whatever happened next was bound to hurt.

He looked like he was being dragged into the room. I'd seen him approach a wasp's nest with more bravado. "Miss Gabrielle," he rumbled, and took off his cap.

Gabrielle pressed her front against him and threw her arms around his neck. He patted her back lightly.

She held on too long, strained up on tip-toe, her hips nudging at his front. "Bill, I have been thinking too many thoughts about this morning. My knickers, they are ruined."

She leaned back to check his reaction, kicking a playful foot behind her. His cheeks blazed. "Miss Gabrielle, I must remind you--"

"I know I know. You said in your message. You're just doing this for Bash, so you can fuck her."

He uncoiled her arms from his neck. "That's not what I said. I want Lady Bathsheba to be happy, and this seems a way I can... please her without risk of pregnancy and her father having me killed."

"Bof." Gabrielle shrugged. "I don't get it, but she's your girlfriend, so..."

"She's my employer not--"

"Merde!" Gabrielle clawed her hair. "I don't care. You are both too fucked up. Just" --she waved at his hips-- "get it out OK? And we'll start."

Bill shifted awkwardly.

"Oh come on, I have seen your penis. In detail. I have orgasmed on it and I have sucked it dry, and now you are shy of showing it to me?"

"But that was for Lady--"

"Stop talking." She unfastened his belt, dropped his trousers and yanked down his boxers. She picked up his long shirt tails and peered under at his flaccid cock. "Monsieur this is pretty but will please no one." She pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it away. She sighed over his powerful torso. "Hmm. Bash is so lucky."