The Bowl of Green Glass

Balvan Sing's penis was next. A fine upstanding businessman with a penis to match. Not as dark skinned as Lenny but his cock certainly brown and turgid. Lenny's impression was he would be next to come, and he was right. White semen shooting into the bowl from his pale pink knob. Lenny watched it coming right out of the little slit and wondered to himself at the interest he was taking in other men's penises and ejaculations. Well, it was a penis club after all!

Two more to go - or rather come - the bowl was streaked now with semen, the eight streaks could sort of be made out as individual but the ejaculate was running down the smooth polished slope of the bowl towards the centre, pooling and - yes - mixing; the product of the society's penises mingling.

'Chalky' White was next. Sir Rodney White in formal address, his deep Southern American accent surprising given his knighthood. He was, though, a baronet and the honorific inherited late in life despite having been born in Alabama. A little portly, his cock was sawing away at the glass rim, a sawing action against blunt, but saw-like, teeth of the glass' rim. No doubt he could very much feel but not actually see the penis under his belly! A fine spurting, a surprising forked little spurt at the start, before the pressure of a full load forced the urethral opening fully open and out came a fine dollop of creamy cum to land very much 'splat' in the centre of the bowl, the impact cratering the pooling semen and sending waves across the pool. Another dollop and then another.

And that left Barry Marcote, fresh back from his honeymoon with his fourth wife, the much-regarded young actress, Jessie Chequers. Lenny was sure Barry's cock would have been well used on the honeymoon - he knew his would! The idea of it - Jessie Chequers. Perhaps that accounted for Barry coming last - when he did. All eyes on the ginger haired man, his pale pink penis rising so stiffly from his carroty pubic hair, his long, bullet like knob shining as he scraped it across the blunt glass. It was perhaps the second longest after Lenny's penis - though with his own now seriously drooping there was no question who currently stole the prize. Was Barry perhaps being last on purpose - prolonging the pleasure of the sawing upon the green glass bowl's rim? The penis that had, no doubt, emptied again and again into Jessie - and how Lenny would like to do that - now emptied itself in a very different place, not secretly in hot wetness but in full view of the assembled men. The man exhaled with every spurt of his penis. Ten pairs of eyes watched the thin streams shoot across the bowl.

The men had come. The first part of the ritual was complete. The men looked down into the green glass dish, at their semen running slowly down and towards the floral centre. Ten loads, the male product of the membership of the society.

The President lifted the large and heavy glass bowl and swirled it slightly, seeking to mix the semen. So strange to Lenny to see his semen there with his fellows. More usually he deposited it inside his wife, perhaps within her vagina, not unusually in her mouth of a morning, occasionally in her bottom and sometimes elsewhere across her body. Sometimes he had a wank and exercised his long penis alone, pleasuring himself whilst his mind roamed, the product issuing out into a tissue and quickly disposed: the semen from the ten men was not being hurriedly disposed of at all. A cloth or tissue was not being wiped around the dish - and how soaked would a tissue have been with that much stuff! It was being raised up for all to see clearly and to Lenny's nostrils came the sharp smell of freshly ejaculated semen.

From beneath the table, Turgay Güneş lifted the bottle and uncorked. The scent of aniseed, the drink Ouzo, Rakı, Arak, Pastis or Sambuca, came into the room over the salty scent of the semen. The bottle clear and the liquid within it clear as glass. Slowly and from a height Turgay Güneş poured a thin clear stream from the bottle, down into the pooling semen and as it splashed into the pool, the President gently swirled the bowl.

"Rakı," said Turgay Güneş, "note how the colour changes from clear to milky-white. It is the water within the semen."

Swirling the spirit now milky and the semen, already milky, came together, the wash bringing the sticky ejaculate that had stuck to the side of the bowl into the rotating liquid.

"We call rakı when mixed with water, Aslan sütü, or 'lion's milk'. Lion is a Turkish metaphor for a strong and courageous man." He smiled, "Aslanlar sütü - lions' milk!"

He beamed at the company as the President said, "the milk for the strong." Holding the dish and still swirling its milky contents the President led the way from the room, Turgay Güneş and Lord Yarborough opening the doors. Outside the girls had placed glasses upon a table, tall, thin, delicate glasses, ten in all. It came to Lenny, as if he had not already suspected, what he was about to drink. Seemingly not the girls - he smiled, there were other times they drank semen!

The 'lions' milk' was poured from the dish, so carefully to ensure none was spilt, and one by one the naked men took their glass and raised it.

"To the Brotherhood." The first toast. All drank the aniseed flavoured drink. All drank each other's semen. Such a strange ritual.

"To our newest member." Lenny thought it wrong for him to drink as the second toast was drunk.

"To the Brotherhood's gaming staves. Long may they spend!" The words old fashioned, perhaps, Lenny thought, probably an original phrase of the Society. The men drank again. Their semen flavoured with aniseed and made alcoholic, slipping easily down their throats.

They sat at a round table with ten chairs set with cutlery and a splendid hors d'oeuvre. Glasses were refilled from the bowl and the men ate, drank, and talked. The conversation was erudite, cultured and touched very much upon politics and business. The process of eating taken at a slow and refined pace. It was so very much a small gathering of likeminded people, a gathering at a club. Whilst dinner suits and black bow ties might have been expected, the men were completely naked; perhaps it might have been thought by an onlooker as an indication that they came honest and open with nothing concealed. Easy to imagine in times past it showed a man was not carrying a weapon - well not that sort of weapon! Beneath the tablecloth the men's manly 'weapons' hung limply. They had already been discharged. Lenny had not missed the particularly way the front of the ornate chairs was somewhat cut away, so his particularly low-slung balls actually hung there between his thighs, not at all resting on the wooden seat. He wondered why that was. He was sure he would find out.

The three lovely girls cleared away and brought the fish course and cool white wine in crystal goblets. Lenny had already copulated with two on previous attendances at the club's premises. As a novice, a prospective full member, that had been permitted. Three exquisite women, one her skin so deeply pigmented as to be virtually black, one white as porcelain and the third, an Indian lass, with her dark blue-black hair, prominent nose, and so firm breasts. He had been massaged earlier by all three bare breasted, they now wore perfect little French maid outfits, a somewhat saucy refinement of a waitress' traditional garb. Lenny wondered in a lull in conversation where the girls came from. Clearly well-bred and intelligent; stunning to look at and talented. Did they cook as well? How had the Society found them? An advertisement and then a process of elimination and whittling down, perhaps dramatically as the full extent of their duties became apparent? Well paid, undoubtedly. The Society's fees were considerable, past the annual wage of most men. He could see how some girls would be tempted. Not prostitution, but there would be sex with ten men - ten men only. Well, and sex with their female colleagues. The Society liked to see lesbian activity. The men enjoyed seeing the girls pleasuring each other. An ability to massage, cook, wait, be discreet, converse intelligently, organise, all as well as participate in lengthy bouts of sexual intercourse and other sexual acts all in the job specification.

The main course, wonderful but not too heavy and served with an exceptional claret.

Lenny placed his knife and fork neatly before him, his plate finished. He had not seen a girl slip under the table, but he was suddenly aware of a hand lifting his balls. He spread his legs relishing the gentle stroking to his scrotum and shaft. To his surprise he felt himself lengthening, his penis lifting itself up in the direction of the girl: assuming it was one of the girls. That was an assumption. He did not know. Within the room the men were alone. Perhaps there was a trap door concealed beneath the table, perhaps a spiral stair led upwards and out beneath the table. Perhaps it was not one of the girls at all. Perhaps a young man - he did not know to what particular extent the Society's sexual games and rituals extended. He had so enjoyed the sexual activity with the three girls, had particularly enjoyed releasing his semen within the young Indian girl that he had been more than anxious to accept membership. He had realised he would be naked - and therefore erect - with the other members. He had not been sure what it would all entail - but he could cope, he thought!

Lips probably one of the girls, but he could not be sure, touched the end of his penis, teeth gently biting the sponginess of his now swollen knob before taking the whole of the bulb within and gently sucking. Lenny was delighted to be erect again and not only now with the prospect of sexual activity but the capability - and present reality of full enjoyment. It mattered not, really, whose mouth it was, he could imagine it was the Indian girl, but it might be a young man in reality. Without looking under the table he would be none the wiser. It could even be his wife. Drugged or hypnotised. Stripped naked by the three girls, their hands perhaps arousing her. Lenny's penis surged the more at the thought, growing even more within the fellatrix or maybe fellator's mouth. The thought of his wife upon a massage table with the girls exciting her, oiling her, feminine hands delving into her dark secret hair and penetrating her, their fingers parting her lips, perhaps their tongues lapping at her clitoris before sending her up beneath the table to fellate ten men, one of whom would be her husband. Would she recognise her husband's cock by feel? The thought of her sucking his fellow members' members excited him. To see it, his lovely wife on her knees in front of all those men and her soft and so generous lips closing around penis after penis. Perhaps making the juice flow from all ten and swallowing, turning to him after each ejaculation and licking her lips. She drinking from all ten, swallowing their semen as he had done from his glass - but without the Rakı.

Might that be one of the Society's rituals? The new member's wife drugged and hypnotised for all to enjoy? His most prized 'possession' shared... Lenny swallowed - most prized possession but what if the man had daughters? He had seen Jock Sturgeon's lovely daughter, her dark curls cascading, her full lips and innocent smile and had more than noted the swell of her young breasts and shapeliness of her bottom in her jeans. What if a daughter had to be 'presented' on her coming of age? Drugged and hypnotised to be abused by all the members - yes shockingly all the members! The Society was old, Lenny could not but imagine defloration appeared very much on the Society's calendar in days past. A very popular Victorian and earlier pastime, he understood.

The sucking mouth moved on. Whoever it was had been very good, most likely one of the girls, though maybe a strapping lad with hanging penis. Did it erect as the lad sucked? Was the sucking of penis after penis arousing? Perhaps afterwards the girls would suck the lad or might his penis be offered to the company rather like an after-dinner cigar. Lenny had neither smoked a cigar nor sucked a cock. He was not a smoker, abhorred cigarettes. A private smile to himself. He thought he would prefer the cock!

Conversation flowed until the President announced, 'the pudding.' Two of the girls wheeled in a desert trolley but none like Lenny had ever seen. Mounted upon it, on her back, the Indian girl, naked and with legs hanging either side, presented vulva first to the company. A delicious 'pudding' on her own but she was richly decorated with cream, chocolate, and fruit. Large black cherries had had their stones removed and the cherries fitted over her nipples; swirls of cream wound around her lovely breasts; within her vagina a peeled banana had been inserted and it curved upwards, pleasingly obscene, and, as it curved over her dark pubic hair, it was as if it had ejaculated, shown by carefully positioned rivulets and dollops of cream. Delightful small gateaux were positioned upon her thighs and elsewhere upon her body; chocolate mousse nestled in her armpits. From her mouth curved another peeled banana, so obscenely like an erection or dildo gag.

"There are spoons, gentlemen," said the porcelain white girl, "but..."

The men arose and once more into view came their upstanding penises. 'Gentlemen' indeed! They had all erected again. Perhaps 'something' had been added to their food or drink - or maybe it was just the wonderful sight of their 'pudding.' It came to Lenny that perhaps the men were meant to use their penises as 'spoons,' offering one another chocolate mousse, syllabub, or cream from their 'spoon.' A polite assistance to a fellow member. Maybe.

"You may wish to eat more directly, gentlemen, I can recommend the cherries."

"Mr Branksome perhaps you would like first choice," said the President, "a banana perhaps?"

There were two other bananas held, half peeled, in the girl's hand, held upright as if she was giving them a hand job. The Indian girl's hands had indeed held his own penis like that, though the fingertips had not met. His penis was substantial both in length and girth. It was that now as he bent forward. He was a full member of a penis club; it was only right he should take the girl's pretend penis in his mouth. Not the one in her mouth, nor those in her hands, but the one curving from the join of her legs. The one with the cream upon it. Lenny's lips closed around the banana just as if he were sucking a penis. It was rather what he had expected to do at least sometime that evening - albeit a real penis and not a banana! What would his wife think - what would his wife think of him being part of a pack of men he could now feel pressing around him and presumably already feasting upon the naked girl? Lenny bit and chewed, it really was a perfect banana. Looking up he was amazed by the orgy, nine men not using the silver spoons at all nor offering each other morsels with their flesh 'spoons,' but their lips and mouths upon the girl; not exactly biting into her flesh with their teeth like a pack of wolves or hyenas but nonetheless Lord Yardborough and Turgay Güneş were most certainly biting, if gently, upon the young girl's nipples as Jock Sturgeon licked across her stomach, licking up the mock semen - a rich almond cream in reality. Their pleasure at what they were doing so demonstrated by their rigid organs. It was a most grotesque and obscene sight. Lenny loved it.

Revealed upon the young Indian girl's clitoris another ripe dark cherry. It had been hidden by the banana. Perhaps not so much resting upon it as the clitoris actually inserted into the stoneless cherry, the little fleshy structure poked into the cool flesh of the cherry. If Lenny were to hold it between his lips - the cherry - and squeeze might that elicit a response from the girl as her clitoris was in turn squeezed? Yes!

Were they now going to engage with the girl, her sex now banana-less and exposed there upon the trolley? Might the men stand as the other girls wheeled the trolley slowly back and forth, the motion moving the Indian girl's vagina to and fro upon the erections until they deposited within her? The young women doing all the work: the men merely ejaculating.

But seemingly not - yet. The trolley was wheeled out and coffee brought in by the two waitresses. More was sure to come - come indeed! The men were excited again and would need to release. It was remarkable to stand as a group with Sir Patrick Spry and Balvan Singh, all with their penises extended, delicate coffee cups and saucers in hand, their knobs almost touching, and discuss a platform they would be sharing at a business conference the next week. The audience would see them besuited in perfect bespoke tailoring and so business-like, yet would have absolutely no idea the planning had been conducted naked, with the three so important men's three penises up in the air together whilst drinking coffee and awaiting some sort of communal fuck!

Coffee drunk and a change of activity followed. Lenny discovered he was again to be the centre of attention. What could he tell his wife? Nothing, of course! What would she say if she could see him now? Lenny Branksome, stark naked, his skin shining in the subdued light and his cock gloriously erect, straining indeed, the coffee coloured knob so upright and revealed. He had been told to stand with legs akimbo and his arms and penis raised high. Before him three girls, not naked but not exactly dressed either. Two, the porcelain white and coal black girl, kneeling and bending forward so their heads touched the ground, exposing their anuses and sex to him. Between them the so pretty Indian girl, freshly washed of the remains of the 'pudding,' her breasts decorated with coiled golden snakes, crouched with upraised head, her mouth open as if ready to suck his penis. Flash went the camera. It was a portrait for the Society's records. A portrait Lenny could not risk seeing the light of day, a portrait kept by the Society for 'security' reasons.

The promise of the pose was fulfilled. Again, what would his wife have said? What would she think if she knew, what would she think when she sucked his big penis on the morrow and they performed sexual intercourse, if she was to learn only the night before Lenny had ejaculated in a young and so pretty Indian girl's mouth. That his swollen knob had slid under her delightfully generous nose and between her lips and she had sucked and sucked whilst the other two girls had held a ball each; that he had come to the ministrations of no less than three young ladies whilst around him nine naked men, seated or standing, and mostly themselves erect, had applauded. What would she have said? It did not really bear thinking about.

Now a full member, Lenny Branksome admitted to the ranks of the old established society. Its seventy-fifth member. There were only ten active members at any one time. The other sixty-five had become inactive or passed away - an indication of how long established it was. The society's meetings were fortnightly, but the girls were there alternate nights for the members' use and enjoyment. Food could and would be cooked by them and members could relax in delightful company and, of course, relieve the burden in their testes. It was all very tempting. A stop off at 'The Club' on the way home. Perhaps, when he did that, he could still copulate with his wife before bed, making her, maybe, the fourth vagina he would have penetrated that evening. What a delight!