Les Désirs des Femmes Pt. 05

For how long would you stay away from a list like "Les Désirs des Femmes"?

It all depends how much you love sex and the adventures that go with it - the seeking and the finding, the seduction, or the being seduced. And erotic outcomes, just as you want them to be. And pleasure is always the goal.

So, my libido and I fired up my laptop again last night and we were soon back at that all-giving, all delectable, magical, mystical online list of all the women who have ever desired me.

Not long ago, and thanks to the list, I had had an amazing two hours in a Thai massage parlour with three very willing women who all took me to twenty-year-old heaven before, during and after I had made them all come in ways I didn't even know I could.

Before that, thanks to the list, I'd gone up to London and was soon tongue-deep in a beautiful older woman I bearly remembered, in the room above her stylish leather boot salon. She won't forget the lead-up to that climax, and neither will I.

And before that there was the prettiest of them all, back at my local bookstore, just after closing time. Her face was almost a picture of pain as she came, but afterwards she reassured me that it had been quite the opposite of pain. The very, very, very opposite of pain, she said, as she buttoned up her blouse again and kissed me goodbye.

All thanks to "Les Désirs des Femmes."

I raise a glass to those guys, whoever they are...

So, tonight, the list fills my laptop screen again, but there are names here I now know I won't explore again, or at all, for this and that reason, but mostly because I have a taste for the new, the novel, the unknown. And there are enough unvisited names left on the list to allow me plenty more fun. And that's turning me on again, just thinking about it, especially with the lust I have for hot women, and in particular for hot older women - it's an itch which I love to scratch.

Little did I know that the next three days would become a blur of everything from gentle love-making, to hard rutting, to willful sex-slavery, to bondage, to laugh-out-loud hilarity, to... well, you will see.

For absolutely no reason at all, I now went for the shortest name remaining on the list, one which gave me no clues at all as to why it was there. This has become one of the great joys for me about my list; I have no idea who 90% of these women are, and in what ways they might have lusted after me in the first place. But there they are... Let me at them!

So, to the list... Shortest name... shortest name... it looks like it's going to be... Holly Beck.

Oh, Miss Holly. Who art thou? And where art thou hiding? And what kind of lustiness goes through life with you? What, deep down, do you wish a man would do to you to make you grind and shudder? Miss Holly, Miss Holly...

I am coming to get you.

Half an hour later I was pulling up in my car outside a smart address in a town I had always had a soft spot for; for its open spaces, perfect riverfront and air of calm. It is near where I grew up, and coincidentally it's the town where I first kissed a girl, or rather she kissed me, and I smiled inwardly at the fond memory of me as a shy buck, wondering what might happen after that first kiss. But now, back in the present, I locked the car and paced over to Holly's front door, now in shadow as night was falling. There were no lights on at home.

I hadn't even phoned in advance, even though the list gives contact details for all the listed women. Now I just wanted a raw adventure, and if there is a man or a family in Holly's life, well, I was in the kind of bring-it-on mood that meant that whatever I came face-to-face with here... well, I was going to ride the wave, whatever. Better to try and fail than not try at all.

There was no doorbell, just an ormamental bronze knocker quite low down on the impressive pine-finish door. The house itself was a little way back from the other houses in a small, chestnut-lined cul-de-sac, with a neat front garden, leaded windows and room for three cars to park at the front. There were no cars there right now, but there was a whiff of money in the air.

No car? Maybe my Miss Holly's not home.

Shame, as I really, really was in the mood to walk into an intriguing female stranger's life and see if I, or we, could get something gloriously erotic going ASAP.

No overthinking now, mate, that's the rule... so I clanked the bronze knocker three confident times, and stood back to see what the Fates had in store for me.

I waited, and waited some more.

Nothing. No light came on, no sound - and my heart sank a little. I waited a full minute more - still nothing.

This was the first time I had gone out on a 'Désirs' mission, and drawn a blank, and, dumbly, I almost started to blame the list for nor delivering a hot woman there and then right into my lap.

But a moment later I snapped out of that silliness when a car's headlights panned into the driveway where I was standing in the half dark, and I felt that instinctive panic you feel when you're caught red-handed doing something half-odd or half-guilty.

The headlights went out and a figure got out of the car - then a quite prim female voice said:

"Well, that's a trip I never want to repeat! Bloody middle-Englanders! So petty, so unimaginative..."

I thought to myself - Do I stay or go? And what's she going on about? Is this Holly Beck? And why is she not bothered, arriving home to find me in her driveway, with the house empty, at 10 at night?

I took the chance: "Holly? Holly Beck?"

The woman paused and looked at me for a second.

"No, Holly will be here tomorrow. Now, who are you?"

I made the instant decision to go through with this and find out more about the place, the situation, the chance of adventure... I gave her a made-up name and then I said something that surprised even me as the words came out of my mouth.

Crazy, I know, but people with a lively mind, like me, often have both a dislike of the mundane, and a lively thirst for thrills - and here was me spontaneously going for a big thrill. I said:

"Holly doesn't know it yet, but whenever she gets here, she and I are going to have the fuck of our lives."

There was a deafening silence. Then a look passed over the woman's face which I just could not interpret at all. Surely she's going to get mad and scream me right out of the driveway... That's what people would do, right? ...hearing the words I had just said.

But she paced towards the front door, now visible in an elegant trouser-suit. Looking for the right key on a large key-ring and, in a voice almost too soft to hear, she said:

"Cheeky fucker, you'd better come inside."

Reader, I will spare you the full details of the next hour but this is where the story gets even more whacky.

Minutes later, the woman (let's call her Lady M) was sitting across from me at a large dining table. You could see some ageing-lines on her face, but she had style, with long, well-cut blonde hair, and now looking much more attractive indoors in the light. With our two glasses of red wine now mostly empty before us she was looking at me with a smile which was as impenetrable as her earlier look had been.

Since we had opened the bottle, she had been asking questions and I had been answering, and the questions had started out focussing on the every-day, but after a while some of those questions had gotten on to the topic of what I might or might not like to do with Miss Holly, "...since you're so sure she'll just let you fuck her to your heart's content..."

I started to answer, fully prepared to be honest about how lust and chance had taken me there, and about what I would claim was Holly's equally healthy hunger for me, but I barely got half a dozen words out when I saw something in her hand, pointing across the table.

A real pistol.

Lady M had a small handgun trained on me and was now sitting calmly, not bothered about a word I was saying.

"You, young man, have stumbled upon something unusual, and I hope you can live up to the... challenges."

She continued: "This is a funny little household, where the sisterhood and myself have our own naughty ways of getting through the long evenings."

She made me hand over my wallet, phone and keys, assuring me that I would get them all back as long as I "played the game like a good boy."

Long story short - she made it clear why I would have to obey her - and believe me, there were reasons - and then she made me strip her, garment by garment, although all the while I was re-assuring her that she would get no trouble from me.

It was my lust which brought me here, I told her; and she relaxed a little.

She took me to what she called the drawing-room and instructed me to light a fire in the elegant hearth, then, still at gun point, she made me perform a slow strip-tease for her, before the end of which she was giving plenty of good hands-on help, now paying particular attention to my erection, in particular down on her knees, and in particular delivering possibly the best deep-throat seeing-to I had ever encountered...

Then she lowered herself to the hearth-rug and made me lick her ready, then she flipped herself over and told me to take her slowly from behind, strongly and attentively - which I did, until she shuddered out an orgasm which barely found its way out from within her. The tension in her body was almost unnerving, but hot as hell too. All the while she held the pistol trapped under her right hand against the soft hearth-rug.

After she had recovered - and now gripping my erect penis as though she feared it might escape somehow - her dreamy eyes were catching the light from the fireplace flames. I told her that her keeping me at pistol point was really unneccessary.

"You don't have to force me or threaten me. I'm turned on 150% now and when you're ready, I'd very much like to do that again. In fact, I need to come... And if Holly shows up, she can join in anytime."

She smiled a little and pointed to the sofa.

"Stay there. You are one seventh of the way through your challenge here. Good start, by the way, but that's it for you fucking me, for now. Time for the next sister."

She pulled a house-robe around her shoulders and dialled a single number on an old table-top phone.

"Oh, sweetheart," she spoke softly, "We have a... yes, a visitor. Yes. You can all come down now. I think you might like him. He did me well enough just now, and he says he needs to come..."

So, that was it - I was the sex-slave of seven 'sisters' - maybe for some time, and secretly I was loving the idea. Even though I was still at pistol point, I relaxed and focussed on preparing myself, mind and body, for what I hoped would be a marathon ahead.

Whatever happens, I must try not to come too soon. If I come, I'm going to need some kind of rest, and that's going to screw the mood in the room. To put it simply: if the only man in the building comes too soon, he'll need down-time for a while, and that could play badly with the 'sisterhood' in their own home, with them making the rules, and with them having the pistol.

BAMM went the drawing room door, kicked inwards almost violently, and five women aged, I'm guessing, betwen 35 and 60 sashayed into the room.

"I'm next! Oh, let me go next!" shrieked the shortest one as she scampered around the end of the sofa and stood before me.

The following hours went down like this:

There was everything from fast to slow, from active to passive, partner-swap snogging, oral, toys, positions, sweating and growling, thrusting and coming.

It was only the women coming at first, and boy, did they let me know they were coming. I do not know how I controlled my own orgasm, but I managed. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation that helped, but I serviced all six of those women, again and again, until dawn was visible again through the half-drawn blinds.

Luckily, they gave me some breaks, even two very welcome beers, and a ridiculously enjoyable twelve-handed massage "...to get you back in the mood..." they said.

I say twelve-handed massage... I think it was more like nine-handed, since at least two of the women were fingering each other silly as the massage went on - I clearly heard both of their orgasms - and a round of 'Hurrah's went up from the whole troop at each sisterly climax - and all the while, another hand was busy popping M&Ms into my mouth "It's fuel for the motor, young man! You like these, don't you? Who doesn't?"

Then they told me it was time for a change. For my next "performance" of the evening, I was almost jokingly 'forced' to mount the chubbiest sister lying on her back on the hearth rug (and I find cheerful, chubby women so hot, I cannot put it into words...), and as we got going, with her eyes showing how much she loved having me inside her, she looked up at me and said: "You are commanded to squirt your spunky juices into my naughty hole. I command it! Girls, if he doesn't... shoot him!" - and they all giggled along.

And with me setting up a good rhythm for her now she said: "Pull my hair a bit! Pay attention! The very, very mostest sexiest, fuckiest thing in the whole world for me is if I get a hot cream pie! And you are going to give me a big hot cream pie, you hear!?"

I was lost for words for a minute, then she almost shouted:

"I said, you are going to GIVE ME A CREAM PIE!! Comprendez, Signori??"

"Yes," I said, getting into the mood nicely, "If your Ladyship desires, nay, commands a hot cream pie right up the snatch, then she shall get one!"

And I got down to bonking her with more energy, as she almost whinnied over and over:

"Creamy-cream pies! Give me the creamiest creamy pie! He's going to squirt me, isn't he, Sisters?!"

"Yes," they all chimed in unison, "He's going to squirt you good and proper!"

And I followed this up with: "I will be just delighted to do my bestest biggest, hottest squirty-squirts into-"

But my words were cut short as she let loose an outrageous orgasm which started low and hissy but ended up almost as a window-shattering soprano yodel.

"CREEEAAAMMY-SQUIRTYYYY -- YAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!"

# # #

Later as I rolled off her, I was almost sad that I hadn't actually delivered the much hoped-for cream pie. She still looked like she wanted it...

"Never mind, young man," said the next 'sister', "That was always going to happen. Not your fault at all. Now, have a quick wipe down, and follow me."

She led me to where there was an impressive flat-screen TV in the corner of the room furthest from the door.

"Sisters!" she cried, "Get the specimen ready again!"

Soon enough the other five were around me with at least two of them trying to get my semi-erect cock into their mouths, and there was an argument starting down there about who would prevail, but it was hard to concentrate on that as two others were pulling my face down onto their parade of four gorgeous tits all in a semi-circle, making deranged motor-boating noises together, almost at each other, as they almost beat my face up with their glorious racks. There are few better ways of turning me back on, I just loved that...

The sisters down below gave up fighting over who would suck me hard again and, thankfully, they started a very enjoyable four-handed wank-me-off, which ended up being so good - and what with me face-deep in heaving tits too, I was now getting close to properly squirting - I had to tell them to stop...

We were still besides the massive TV, and the screen was now showing - and I am not kidding - the Tellytubbies; and I found hands gripping my elbows and shoulders to line me up behind the woman, naked now, who had led me to the TV corner.

"Sisters," she drawled, "Is his todger pointing at the treasure box?"

They confirmed that it was, and as she herself bent forward over an armchair, the others urged me forwards. Before I knew it I was balls deep.

On the screen I could see the four Tellytubbies coming out of the Tubby-domey thing and skipping onto a grassy slope, accompanied by loud, very child-friendly music in a rhythm that TV-sister now started replicating as I reached for her shoulders and got down to the humping that her moans told me she needed badly.

She thrust back and I thrust forward, and the Telletubbies frollicked on the lawn. The hoover-thing joined them on-screen, and the music played...

Mid-rodgering, TV-sister managed to gasp: "Can you see us Tinky-Winky and Dipsy, can you see him bonking me, Lal-La and Po?" - and the joy on her face was quite something.

"That's right! He's giving me hot Tubby-cock and a good Tubby-fuck, and we've only just fucking begun..."

Another sister whispered in my ear: "Oh, do try to match the rhythm of the Tubby music! She won't come unless you match the music to the in's and out's of your Tubby-tool!"

So there I was, doubling up my energies, all to the right rhythm, and she really started going for it now, and the Tellytubbies were waving back at us. And I wondered if this was a weekly event in this house...

"OOOooooohhhhh..... time for TUBBY CUSTARD! TIME FOR TUBBY CUSTARD!" - TV-sister blurted, and she was almost beside herself with pleasure now. I started to say something about how much Tubby Custard she was about to get when she let out her own amazing, beautiful-agony orgasm, through pursed lips and with spasms in her hard-working thighs, bucking and gasping... and then she slumped forward over the chair-back.

A new voice cut in...

"That, young man, is CRIMINAL! Failing to deliver custard when instructed..." said the next sister, almost icily, as she now appeared at my side dressed convincingly... as a police-woman.

She led me away from her panting 'sister' commanding me forward with very domineering truncheon taps.

"You, Sonny, are in deep trouble now, make no mistake. The only way you can be pardonned is if you ... do me properly..."

Even though I felt like I needed a break, I was really into this game now. I have always found women in uniform ultra-hot, and here in front of me was a gorgeous specimen - and my lust for her was immediate.

She was perhaps the youngest of the sisters, around 35, with luscious dark curls and perfect thick, dark eye-liner - and now she sat me down on the sofa and took a step back. Then, slowly-slowly, she raised her black police skirt teasingly to reveal black stocking tops clipped into garters. And no knickers.

What a gorgeous sight. Well trimmed and glistening with appetite, she was the loveliest apparition I was to see that night.

"Finger me silly!" she ordered, and I needed no second invitation. Soon enough she was purring as I eased into some well practised two-finger frigging, and her eyes were were glazing over, as she steadied herself with hands on my shoulders. The half-smile on her face simply said - Yes, more, jut like that!

But then she surprised me with a change of tack. She told me that her fantasy was to come at the same time as the young man she 'was arresting', and she knew exactly how we were going to get there.

I had seen that she was a big girl, up front, but when she unbuttoned her crisp white police blouse, out sprang such a proud, soft, jelly-wobbling pair of knockers, half locked up in the perfect black bra, that my erection instantly shouted at me to do anything - ANYTHING - to get those tits into my life.

She wasted no time and reached round to unclip her own bra and knelt down, now easing my erection into her amazing cleavage, beween her 'suck-me' tits, and pushed them gently together with a hand on each side.

She mimicked speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie: "This is patrol car X-25, over. We've detained the suspect ...now carrying out the routine procedure, over..."

And she told me to fuck her cleavage, starting slowly then getting quicker - all whilst reaching back down to finger her "...and do it as fucking well as before, or else!"