Professional Excellence Ch. 10

She smiled sweetly. I interpreted the quiet request as the command it was and went over to open another bottle. Marjorie was speaking again.

'I don't know what you ladies think, but I've had a mind for some time to suggest a change of direction for the lodge.'

There were non-commital sounds from Linda and Mona who were obviously waiting to hear more. April was clearly confused by the whole conversation.

'For too long, we've had a hidebound programme of events. For goodness sake, they wouldn't be out of place in the nineteenth century let alone the twenty first.'

For this there was more agreement. Most of us only participated in these things because of our husbands. They insisted the lodge was good for their business careers and went along with the most odd things in order to fit in. Marjorie was pointing out that they did, however, make sure they had plenty of things like this weekend's golfing expedition to lighten the tedium.

'And strippers at their Gentlemen's Evenings.'

Linda had piped up. She didn't sound resentful but her emphasis was loaded with sarcasm.

'Precisely. I'm not suggesting that we have to indulge in the same degree of lasciviousness. Necessarily.'

Something about the way she said it, and the timing of her pause before the last word, which made us all laugh. I circled the group with the bubbly and filled their glasses again.

'But if someone like Monica, for instance, was wife of the president and therefore in charge of activities.'

She stopped there. It was clear to all but Nigel and April that Marjorie was planning something. The reaction she was getting was noticeably more positive now. As the wife of the town's most prominent businessman she was the power behind the throne. I wasn't in any condition to consider what the implications of her plans might be. I knew it would be good for Howard, but did I want to be lumbered with all the expectations? I mentally pinned myself a note to talk things through with both of them at some later date. Marjorie had clearly finished for now. She donned one of her sweetest smiles before nodding to April and deliberately placing her well-manicured fingers on Nigel's knee.

'But enough of this shop talk. I'm sure you younger ones must be getting bored.'

April perked up at the compliment. Nigel straightened himself in his seat and began to pay attention again. Linda, Mona and I exchanged knowing looks. Something was definitely up in the wider world and inside the room. I waited to see what would happen next.

'So tell me Nigel. You'll have to forgive me I've never been fortunate enough to attend one of these male striptease shows.'

I suppressed a giggle. The tone and pace of her query would have been appropriate for a question about the intricacies of French cooking.

'Do you and your colleagues intend to take off all of your clothes when you perform? Everything?'

'Yes, of course.'

Poor Nigel was bemused. April was beaming at his discomfort. Everyone else was all ears. We waited for the other shoe to drop. Marjorie adopted a nostalgic, far-away tone as she continued.

'It's such a long time since I was able to indulge myself with the sight of well-muscled young bodies.'

She squeezed Nigel's thigh for emphasis. And left her hand where it was, significantly closer to his groin.

'And so well-endowed.'

She stared pointedly at his still erect penis pushing against the fabric of his trousers.

'Do all of your men manage to remain so, upright shall we say, for so long? I'm sure I have not been the main focus of your attention this evening, but I'm very flattered nonetheless.'

This time she stroked the length of Nigel's thigh, all the time maintaining eye contact. There was louder agreement from the rest of us. As well as one or two comments on the side about the stamina and size of their menfolk. Marjorie turned slightly. It had the effect of signalling that she was including all of us in the next part of the conversation.

'Have any of you heard of CFNM? I was thinking about it as I watched the boys being entertained by those young ladies earlier.'

We all had blank faces, but credit where credit was due, everyone had a stab at coming up with the meaning of the acronym. All off us got stuck about half-way through, mostly becausefuck was the only word we thought might represent the 'F'. Nigel didn't even try. All eyes turned back to Marjorie.

'Clothed Females Naked Male.'

She waited while her words sank in. I whistled, Linda smirked, Mona guffawed, April hugged her knees and rocked as she silently broke up, Nigel's shy smile widened as he realised what was being suggested and the reaction of his prospective audience. We were all alcohol-hazy by this time so I had no doubt this was going to happen. I was intrigued by the how, not the what.

'You mean we get Nigel to strip off and sort of parade around?'

Linda wanted the rules of engagement clarified.

'That all sounds a little clinical, don't you think? I believe we would have to put the whole thing on a proper footing. After all, the young ladies of Spain were hardly entertaining those reprobates out of the goodness of their hearts.'

Marjorie was appraising Nigel's reaction as she spoke.

'Howard is not a reprobate. He's just a very naughty boy.'

My comment brought cackles from the girls. Even Nigel sniggered. There's nothing like an old Monty Python line for all-round family entertainment. Marjorie had removed a fifty pound note from her purse. She folded it in half and waved it around like a conductor's baton.

'I'll leave the decision as to whether this goes to the charity, or your university fund, to you Nigel.'

She leaned over and tucked the note inside the waistband of his trousers, taking the time to arrange it neatly over his belt buckle. I'm sure the fact she needed to rest one hand over his hard dick to correct the symmetry was entirely coincidental. Linda and Mona were looking around for their handbags to follow Marjorie's lead. She cut them off, announcing it was her treat and that there was another fifty waiting if she was happy with his performance. I hoped she'd done that to save April's blushes at having to reveal her impecuniousness. Marjorie was shrewd as well as sensitive. All eyes were now on my son. His was clearly the next move to make. He slowly raised his hands to the top button of the tight, white shirt he was wearing as part of his waiter's uniform.

'Normally we wear things which are easier to get off.'

Marjorie reached out her hand again and placed it over his.

'Don't worry dear. We wouldn't dream of asking you to do all the work after your generous offer. I'm sure the girls would be more than happy to assist you. Why don't you stand up?'

He did as he was told and looked rather awkward, shifting from one foot to the other and constantly moving his hands as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. Strangely, he wasn't jumped on immediately as I'd expected. My friends all slowly got to their feet and approached him, but no one seemed wiling to make the first move. April, Mona and Linda kept casting sly glances in my direction as if seeking my approval to dive on him. Clearly my presence was acting as a sheet anchor on proceedings. I felt the dilemma myself. The booze-enhanced, randy-girl side of my character was screaming for me to get down on my knees and suck his dick; the sensible, maternal and, lets-not-do-anything-we-might-regret-whilst-pissed hostess I'd been managing to keep to the fore all evening, was telling me to steer clear of whatever was going to happen.

'I fancy some coffee. Shall I make it for everyone?'

I took their complete ignoring of me as they closed in on their prey as a sign of assent and made for the door. I looked back before I went through. Marjorie was still in the same position she had been for most of the evening. Her face bore the same look of benign approval she'd maintained for as she regarded the rest of the crew. She looked over at me and winked. I smiled back.

The others were too busy to notice me leave. Linda and Mona were standing each side of Nigel undoing the buttons on his shirt. That is, they were undoing when they could drag themselves away from running hands across his stomach and chest underneath the cotton material. Both of them were also pressing their boobs against him. He had a hand on each of their arses and was squeezing them rhythmically. April was on her knees in front of him, the position I had fantasised filling myself. She was being more systematic than I would have been, however, and was busy unlacing his shoes rather than ripping at the clothing covering his penis which would have been my approach.

The kitchen was welcomingly cool. I leaned back against the fridge-freezer for a moment more to try and calm myself down than gather my thoughts and analyse the situation. That was pretty clear. Just like my friends - with the possible exception of Marjorie - I was a clump of seething lust. But as the primary sex-object's mother, there was no way I could indulge myself the way they clearly were. The sound of cheering, off-key whistles and almost macho-laughter permeated easily through the two closed doors between me and them. I busied myself with a bit of tidying.

There were a lot, and I mean a lot, of empty bottles. I found a cardboard case and filled it with the ones cluttering surfaces. I dumped the debris of half-consumed foodstuffs in the recycling bin and loaded the dishwasher. But I was fooling myself. Playing the happy housewife was not helping to calm my libido. All the necks of the bottles and thicker handles of utensils were just making me thinkdildo. I could feel the wetness in my thong without even touching it. In the end I just surrendered.

We don't have any comfortable chairs in the kitchen. The last thing I wanted was Howard and Nigel relaxing in there and getting in the way. I tried to settle in a few positions before hoisting myself onto a high stool. I hooked one heel around the foot rest and stretched the other onto the newly-cleaned island-top. The sopping gusset of my G-string was easily pushed aside and I had two fingers inside my pussy, pulling firmly against the upper wall before my bum was properly settled on the seat. I closed my eyes and filled my mind with images of buff guys with stiff pricks.

It had been a while since I'd got myself off manually. I usually took my time in a warm bath and let my orgasm build slowly as I savoured the experience. Now, I needed a McOrgasm. I was starving for it. I switched to pushing my clit against closed fingers which I spun quickly, with the occasional break to slap it gently. The familiar warmth started growing almost immediately. Small contractions in my pussy followed. I started to feel my muscles twitch as jolts of electricity shot up my body. My mouth was agape as I gulped in air and as I climaxed I couldn't stop myself letting out a yelp. The mental image which froze in my head as I came was of Nigel's dick pushing into me and April sucking on my nipples.

It was an itchy discomfort in the same region which started bringing me down from wherever I'd been taken. I felt an irresistible urge to scratch. As the real world came back into focus, I realised the sensation was being caused by the stretching of the adhesive holding the pasties in place pulling at my skin as my nubs had engorged. They say knowledge is power. Once I had identified the reason for the itch, it seemed to begin to subside. I lowered my legs and tentatively tested out standing. I could still do it.

Almost straight away I started to feel guilty as all good hostesses must when not in the presence of house guests. Even though I could hear from the noises emanating from the front room that everything was still going swimmingly, I couldn't stop myself looking round to check I hadn't been observed. Hostessing 101 immediately wrote the guilt-fuelledurgent agenda. First, I washed my hands. All I could smell was the aroma of my own juices. The rational side of my brain told me it was unnecessary, but still. Then I had to change my underwear. I couldn't spend the rest of the night with a soggy crotch. Finally, hair brushed and make-up retouched, I filled the percolator.

With nothing to do but wait after filling a tray with cups, milk and sugar; the only cream we had was an aerosol which Nigel and Alice used to make sundaes, their favourite non-sexual activity, I had plenty of time to listen to my friends. The different kinds of laughter told their story. Sometimes it was raucous - Nigel doing something lewd, I guessed; at others embarrassed - perhaps residual shame at some daring act; there was lots of encouraging jollity - no doubt celebrating the normalisation of the attentions of a naked man to a roomful of fully-dressed almost-matrons; the guffaws I interpreted as socially-acceptable naughtiness and the short moments of quiet which preceded them I assumed was the anticipation of one of them crossing another moral line usually followed by shrieks of quasi-shock at the new daring. To sum up, I was jealous as hell.

I've had years of practise at opening doors whilst carrying heavily-laden trays, so no one noticed my return to the room, at first. It was quite a scene. Nigel - still naked - glistened like a wrestler. He was holding a large bath towel open around his waist whilst thrusting his hips towards a seated face. A quick head count told me Linda was the lucky recipient of his attentions. Whether the blow job she was giving was voluntary or coerced, I couldn't tell. The hoots of encouragement from the rest told me she wasn't the first to have his penis in her mouth.

'Hi mum.'

Nigel was clearly unphased at what was going on. No one else seemed bothered either as they cheered my reemergence from the kitchen. Marjorie, looking only marginally discombobulated, patted the seat next to her after nodding for me to put the tray down. I did as I was told.

'Looks like you're all enjoying yourselves.'

'Oh, we are, we are. But don't worry. I've already told them we have to leave after coffee.'

'You shouldn't have. You're welcome to stay as long as you like.'

She shushed me and gave me a patronising smile.

'Let's be honest. Linda's currently got Nigel's penis in her mouth - she's not the first, by the way. What do you think will end up happening if we let things run their course?'

'Well...'

'Exactly. We've had a great time, more fun's been had than all other ladies nights put together. But let's draw a line under it all before relationships are put at risk.'

'Fellating Nigel isn't going to do that?'

'I hope not. Especially as everyone here has done it. No pot is going to call the kettles black.'

'Even you?'

It came out more like a squeak than the considered question. It was so loud Mona and April briefly looked over before turning back to the main action. Marjorie was unabashed.

'Of course. After oiling him up with that stuff I bought from Gina.'

'I thought he was looking shiny.'

'I enjoyed that and thanking him in that particular way seemed like the polite thing to do.'

'I see.'

I didn't. But her politesse was unquestionable, as usual, and saying anything else would have appeared prurient. Linda chose this moment to emerge from between the folds of the towel. She looked flushed and her hair was in disarray, but I had never seen her grin so broadly. Nigel let the bath sheet fall to the floor.

'Hello Monica. I didn't realise you were back.'

'I could see you were otherwise engaged.'

She giggled. I sat up and made a move towards the coffee. I needed a distraction. Nigel's cock was bobbing like a metronome. The effect was almost hypnotic. He reached down to stay my hands.

'Let me.'

'No, its OK. I've got this.'

'Mum.'

His don't-be-silly tone put a full stop on the conversation. After all, what's the point of having a waiter if you don't let them wait. I sat back and watched as he circled the room taking instructions as to how my guests wanted their drinks. I couldn't help but notice that each of them needed a moment to consider. A moment they filled by grasping his member still glistening with saliva. He smiled indulgently while they played. Marjorie craned her neck to examine the tray whilst idly caressing his ball sack.

'Is that cream?'

'I'm sorry. Its the one thing I forgot. We only have the canned type.'

She patted my knee with her free hand.

'No need to apologise. Pour me a cup of black coffee would you please Nigel. Bring the cream so I can judge how much I need.'

He gave the can a few shakes before pouring. Marjorie took the cup and made a show of considering the contents whilst idly agitating the cream.

'The problem with this stuff, if memory serves, is you never know how much is going to come out.'

She squirted a tentative blob onto two fingers as if to test the pressure. She seemed satisfied with the walnut-sized amount and looked around. I assumed she was looking for something to clean her fingers on. I had overlooked napkins.

'Just step a little closer would you dear?'

She was looking past the swinging dick, up into Nigel's face. He did as he was told. To my surprise, but no one else's it seemed, she then delicately transferred the globule of aerated cream onto the purple, shining bell-end of his cock. She stroked the sides of her creation almost like a clay modeller before declaring herself satisfied with the result. She leaned back to get a better perspective on her handiwork.

'Perfect.'

She fastidiously sucked and licked her fingers clean of the remaining residue, never taking her eyes off his. Everyone was fascinated by the display. And even though it was perfectly clear what she was going to do next, I gasped and the rest cheered when she widened her mouth and slowly took in his entire length. Nigel let out a soft groan as her lips met the base of his shaft. He raised his eyes to the ceiling before closing them; the rest of us shuffled around to get a better view as our doyenne slowly drew her head back, lips still firmly pursed around the cock, until it popped free and resumed swinging as if being wafted by a gentle breeze. Marjorie had not finished, however, If the cleaning of her fingers had been diligent, the way she delicately stroked the bell end with her tongue, occasionally rolling it inside her mouth, to clean off the - mostly imagined - remains of the cream was fastidious. The room was silent, save for the soft background music and Nigel's whimpers, even after she finished, raised her cup and took a first tentative sip.

'Now that's how I like my coffee.'

'It's a pleasure to serve.'

We erupted into laughter and soft applause. It was as if they had rehearsed the whole thing. There were probably four decades difference in age between them, maybe more, but the whole display was almost like watching new lovers take their first kiss. Nigel turned towards Mona.

'Milk and two sugars, wasn't it?'

'I think I've changed my mind. I'll take mine the same way as Marjorie.'

'Coming right up.'

What followed was messy. None of the others were as controlled as Marjorie when it came to squirting cream. April, in particular, created serried peaks along his whole length. It took some shifting, but both of them seemed to enjoy the experience. At various times gobbets fell off onto carpet or clothing. These, with my approval, were just rubbed in. Nigel was, however, pressed into action to lick errant deposits off breasts and tummies. And of course, once he'd done it for one, everyone wanted a go. I poured myself a coffee and settled well back in the sofa. That was more for the protection of my own reputation than anything else. If Nigel offered toserve me like he was doing for the others I couldn't trust myself not to throw myself into it with the same enthusiasm as my friends.