Soirée at Lady T's

The drawing room was about the size of four tennis courts; ample room for fifteen to play but one look round the room made me think that it wouldn't be restricted to mixed doubles. Soft illumination came from wall lights and table lamps with heavy shades. It was a room where pools of light were surrounded by shadowy areas. Something for every taste. Lady T wore a severe black frock relieved only by a double row of pearls, but without exception her guests were in varying degrees of undress. In fact, a semi-naked couple on a couch were fondling each other with a fervour that left no doubt about their intentions. Others were taking advantage of large scatter cushions on the floor

Casey took my hand as Lady T approached. "I promised to bring you a present," she said, "and here he is."

"Splendid," said her Ladyship, offering a lightly powdered cheek for me to kiss. When I obliged, she murmured, "I shall expect more than that, young man. But I have learned that any present brought to a party should be saved until last. I'm afraid some people have already begun. But do join in when you're ready. Don't let him stand on ceremony, Casey."

Her hand descended into my groin and explored. Inside my trousers, my erection was beyond concealment. "Good. Very good, I'm sure. I shall look forward to that. But enjoy yourselves, first."

Jordan materialised bearing a tray of champagne cocktails. We stood drinking them while I wondered precisely how we would enjoy ourselves. What was the next move. My uncertainty was compounded by the fact that I had begun to recognise the faces of some of the gropers and the groped who were a stage or two ahead of us. One cabinet member, two female television presenters, a national newspaper proprietor, a black footballer - I couldn't put names to them all but I understood entirely why there would be no formal introductions.

"Would you mind?" I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to reply to a tall man with a craggy face and greying hair; hadn't I seen him recently in a Chekov revival in Shaftesbury Avenue? And the voice was familiar. "Casey and I have met before. I never forget an arse - certainly not one as tempting as this." He ran a hand across the back of Casey's green silk dress, drawing the material taut against her rear. And to me: "You won't mind, will you?"

The smile that Casey gave me carried more than one message. On the one hand it said she knew what to expect and wanted it, but at the same time it was meant to reassure me that whatever might transpire in the next few hours we would ultimately find each other again. For now, nothing is serious. Just have fun.

I watched as the tall actor led Casey to a straight-backed chair. When he sat down, she immediately arranged herself face down across his lap. Clearly, they had met before, probably more than once. He peeled back her skirt to reveal green French knickers. His hand traced the outline of her buttocks. His fingers insinuated themselves between her legs. Casey turned her head towards me and winked. Then she looked back to the man and said something I couldn't hear. When his hand descended on her cheeks with a resounding slap, I seemed to be the only person in the room who paid the slightest attention. Spanking was nothing extraordinary among this group.

My thoughts were interrupted by Lady T. Ever the attentive hostess, she appeared unobtrusively at my elbow to say, "Now that Casey has set an example, it's about time we found some entertainment for you." As she spoke, her hands began to loosen my tie, remove my jacket, unbutton my shirt and on until I was as naked as were - I now saw - most of the others in the room. Jordan had appeared on silent feet to take each garment from his employer before folding them carefully and carrying them off; not to be required until much later.

Lady T bent sedately to take my cock between scarlet-painted lips. She sucked several times, then drew back her head to examine the result of her efforts before repeating the process. It was done with such careful precision I became an almost unwitting admirer of my own burgeoning erection. The fact that it had been brought about by a woman old enough to have been my mother no doubt contributed, too.

Satisfied, she stood, took my hand and led me to where two women were taking advantage of the floor cushions. One was a full-breasted blonde I now recognised as a weather girl; I had seen her face many times on my television screen but her cunt was of course new to my eyes. With a cushion for comfort, she was on her back, knees drawn up and spread wide. Kneeling between them was a much older woman with steel grey hair. Her fingers held her partner's cunt lips apart to allow her tongue tip to flick at the exposed clitoris. The blonde's hands were on her own breasts, working the pink nipples.

Lady T indicated the raised bottom of the older woman. "Now," she said, "I think you could slide in there very easily. And you won't be disappointed."

She was right. As soon as I positioned my cock for penetration, the kneeling woman widened her legs slightly and reached behind her to guide me into her. I presume she had been engaged with the blonde for some time for she was in a state of high arousal. I moved easily between the wet folds and began to fuck. She lifted her head to look back and see who was providing the service, then reapplied herself to the blonde. She began finger fucking to accompany the tongue titillation. I was moving steadily inside her when her efforts were rewarded: the television girl suddenly took her hands from her breasts, clutched the back of the head still active between her thighs and bucked up and back, up and back as the orgasm took its toll.

This wasn't the end. "Can we switch?" The request came from the older woman who was still the beneficiary of my cock. I understood what was intended and withdrew but didn't move away. The two changed places, grey hair now on her back, blonde preparing to perform on her. But first she gave me an electric smile, stroked my cock once and said, "I want plenty of that. Don't hold back. I like it hard."

Don't hold back from fucking this gorgeous creature offering herself so brazenly! I was already wondering whether I would be able to watch future weather forecasts without an involuntary ejaculation. How would I fare now? The answer was very satisfactory. Maybe over the months, fucking with Casey had improved my stamina, allowed me to develop techniques whereby I could control my level of excitement; I knew how to reduce my own demand for release without in any way diminishing my contribution to my partner.

So I was able to watch the older woman screwing her eyes tight and clenching her teeth as she took everything she was being given and opened herself up for more. All this time I was fucking the weather girl in a kind of semi-restrained frenzy. The sensation was so exquisite I was disappointed when the blonde's tongue and fingers took her other half right to the edge. The older woman cried out and pressed fingers to her clitoris to administer the climax. Only then did I become aware of the cabinet minister who had been standing over us, watching and masturbating. The shuddering orgasm on the floor was still in the after-tremors when he jerked his cock hard and sent a stream of cum over the woman's tits. I paused and the weather girl eased herself off my still rigid member. From nowhere it seemed, Jordan materialised offering towels and tissues.

The two women and the minister went in search of champagne and a few moments to recuperate, but I was reluctant to join them. Looking round, I saw that Sally had parted from the actor. Her dress and knickers had disappeared, presumably into Jordan's care. Now she was engaged with a supine black footballer, squatting over his face. She beckoned to me to join not them but a newcomer, a brunette I guessed to be in her forties, slender with high, pointed tits and gorgeous legs (I learned later this was the Lady J who had arrived with her husband after us).

Lady J was sitting in an armchair but whispered in my ear that she wanted to "get into my favourite position before you can have me." With that she turned in the armchair and head first slid down until her shoulders were on the floor, taking her weight. Her torso pointed towards the ceiling. She opened her legs and motioned to me to move in. The manoeuvre wasn't simple but it was worth the effort. I managed to position myself above her so that my cock drove straight down into her cunt.

When I went to work, precariously holding my balance while ensuring that Lady J had the full length of my distended cock, my balls slapping against her arse with each down stroke. I saw that Casey was watching. Her cunt was still being licked by the footballer, but something told me she was registering a possibility for our own fucking at a later date.

So the evening went on, partners changed, orgasms sought and achieved. To my astonishment I had pulled momentarily out of the second television woman when Lady T leaned in and, with a few swift strokes, drew the spunk from my cock. The viscous liquid sprayed over the presenter's stomach and tits. Lady T motioned Jordan forward with a towel. Then she turned to me and said, matter of factly, "I thought you deserved that after all your efforts so far. But now be a good boy and rest. I want you for the finale."

Nearly an hour passed while I lounged on a sofa watching the merry-go-round. Casey, needing a pause herself, came to join me, marvelling at the stamina of many of the participants. The older women, I observed, seemed virtually insatiable. Brought to orgasm by lapping female tongues orcunning probing fingers, or by male insertion, they would take a glass of champagne from Jordan's tray, sip for a few minutes and then go in search of ever more lascivious delights. One or two arseholes were opened up, the ineffable Jordan proffering lubricant. The woman with the steel grey undertook double penetration and, as far as we could tell, satisfied both men before frigging herself.

That gave Lady T the opportunity to declare it was time for the finale. I turned to Casey for enlightenment but she shook her head. "Just watch," she said. "Ladies only now, plus Jordan and - unless I'm mistaken - you."

The routine was obviously familiar for one by one the women took their places on the floor, kneeling, bottoms in the air, legs slightly apart, cunts exposed. Next, Jordan placed a cushioned chair with its back to the kneeling row. He helped Lady T, naked herself now, to kneel on the chair before stepping out of his trousers and displaying his erection. It was something to behold; plainly by far the biggest cock of the whole assembly, eclipsing even the impressive appendage that had been wielded by the black footballer. A purple circumcised head indicated that Jordan had been privately preparing himself for this moment.

Jordan moved in front of Lady T and climbed on to a footstool so that his cock was level with his employer's face. The sucking that followed was surely just for Lady T's pleasure; Jordan needed no added stimulation. She took her time, showing a remarkable ability to absorb almost the whole gleaming length. Finally, she indicated that she was ready to move on. When Jordan stepped down, she called to me to join her. Not, though, to take the butler's place on the footstool. That was removed and positioned for me behind her Ladyship. It proved a perfect height, allowing me to indulge in yet another doggy-style fuck; perhaps my fourth or fifth of the evening - I had lost count.

Lady T gripped the arms of the chair for support and instructed me to giver her "all you've got." At the same time, Jordan moved into his ordained role. I realised why all the women were in a row on their knees. One after another they were to be the recipient's of Jordan's magnificent cock.

He didn't hurry. Each woman was gripped by the hips, penetration was effected, and then she was fucked. Fucked until Lady T judged she had had enough. Then she would command Jordan to move on to the next. From our vantage point, Lady T and I fucked and watched the show. Jordan was nothing short of magnificent, dispensing a series of pumping thrusts into each open cunt, seemingly never losing sight of his role of the dedicated servant.

I knew that Casey was the last in the line, told by Lady T to take that place. Slowly, never leaving his partner short-changed, Jordan worked his way along the line. When he came to Casey he hovered for a few seconds, saw that she was holding herself open for him with both hands, and drove into her. But this was different. No longer was it a calculated, cool fuck; he was into Casey with an awesome ferocity. Lady T was urging him to go faster and harder, at the same time pushing herself back on to my cock and crying out for me to emulate the butler's abandoned pistoning of Casey.

I managed to comply for longer than I could have imagined possible but eventually Lady T's cries of "Fuck me, fuck me," were joined in exhortations to further extremes by everyone else in the room; all control lost, I gave way, releasing spurt after spurt of spunk into our hostess's cunt. Only then did she give Jordan the word. At once, he pulled out of Casey, leapt to his feet and offered his cock to Lady T. Her mouth took everything.

When, some while later, a dressed and once more imperturbable Jordan moved round the room with the champagne tray, I proposed a silent toast.

Thanks, Casey Fernandez.

Thanks, Lady T.

Here's to the next time.