The Network Ch. 02

Part 2: Extravaganza.

If you haven't read the first part of this series, "Quintet Rising", what follows won't make much sense!

*

"So how long have you been developing this fantasy, Jackie?"

"I don't know ... two or three years maybe?"

"Is any of it based on real events, real people..?"

"Not as such, no. Well, the things that happen I just imagine of course, but I think some of the people who come into it are real ... based on real people ... but maybe not behaving as the real person would."

"And your husband? Does Jamie know he has a starring rôle?"

A laugh from Jackie. "Oh good God, no! Maybe I'll pluck up the courage to share it with him one day. You think I should?"

'I'll tell you when I know more about what happens! So, let's be clear. You devise these fantasies -- this 'Network' idea -- when you're in bed, sometimes day-dreaming, sometimes dreaming for real. Later you write them down; and what, sneak them out from time to time to read through them?"

Jackie nodded, watching her friend's reaction carefully.

"Do they turn you on?"

Another nod; another hooded look.

"And when they've turned you on ... do you masturbate? Come on, we know each other well enough for you to answer that, don't we?"

A slightly embarrassed pause, then, "Yes."

"Yes, we know each other well enough, or yes, they help you masturbate?"

"Both..."

"OK, that's fine. And now you want me to read one of them?"

"If you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind at all, I could do with some fun. Are you going to stay here while I read it? Well, we'd better have a glass of wine then, since it's past lunchtime. You pour, I'll make myself comfortable and start on this epic, yes?"

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not, honest, it's just that this is a rather ... well, odd situation. Come on, let's have my glass over here... OK, let's see. So ... Who's Jayne?"

"That's me. Jayne's my middle name."

"And David, that's Jamie's middle name?"

"Right."

"Hang on! Who's this 'Gail' character?"

"She's the hostess. She runs The Network."

"And you gave her my name???"

"She's nice, you'll like her."

"Well that's good news, I'm glad to hear it! So ... I'd better see what I get up to, hadn't I?" said Gail, and settled back with the printed sheets to read.

*

The rain didn't help, and the dense array of cars packed into the driveway of Gail and Gary's house and extending out along the lane leading to it made parking a nightmare.

"Are you sure you got the right day?" grumbled David, struggling to turn their car rather than backing out the way they'd arrived.

"I'm sure," said Jayne, not sounding it at all. "Gail said there'd be lots of people here this time, remember? I didn't expect this crowd though; looks like most of the Network must be here! Why don't you drop me off here, by the house, and I'll go find out what's happening?"

"While I drive back down the lane half a mile to park and get soaked to the skin walking back?"

"Oh come on misery-features, I'm sure you'll warm up quickly enough once you're in! And you probably won't have much need of clothes anyway once the party begins!"

*

"Sounds like the party's already in full swing," thought Jayne, standing dripping on the doorstep waiting for someone to answer her insistent ringing of the bell; music, lots of laughter, some shouting, occasional applause, from the depths of the house -- such a contrast to their first visit. She crouched down, pushed open the flap of the letter-box and peered down the long entrance hall beyond it. At the far end of the corridor a door opened briefly, letting a surge of noise escape from the room beyond, and a couple almost fell, laughing, into her view. The fact that both were wearing elaborate masks and nothing else certainly confirmed her initial observation: 'full swing' seemed a pretty appropriate phrase.

Jayne put her mouth to the letter-box and shouted as loud as she could, "Hello!!! Open the door, pleeeaaase ..!"

When she looked again the couple had disappeared but, thank God, someone was striding down the corridor towards her and moments later Gail's voice called, "Is that Jayne out there? Hang on one sec..."

The sound of bolts sliding back and locks clattering, then she was in.

"Jayne! We thought you weren't coming, you're so late! Oh my, you're drenched! Come in the kitchen and get those wet things off. Did you bring a change of clothes? And where's that lovely husband of yours?"

"We couldn't get the car in anywhere so he's taken it off to find somewhere to park. He'll be even wetter than me when he eventually arrives."

"Oh well, I can look forward to rubbing him dry then! You didn't bring a change of clothes?"

"They're still in the car; sorry."

"No problem. Look, slip out of those wet things and I'll pop up to my bedroom and get you something to wear. Might be a bit of a squeeze to get into them though! Sorry love, just teasing! Never mind, you'll probably not have them on for long, will you? Have a look over the programme while you're waiting..."

Gail passed her a well-produced card, designed to simulate a menu, then rushed off in search of dry clothes. Gratefully huddled close to the open coal fire, Jayne stripped down to bra and panties, rubbed her hair vigorously with the towel Gail had thoughtfully provided, and glanced over the programme.

***"WELCOME!"*** it announced in bold, elaborate lettering, "to the **Second Annual Extravaganza** of the *Network!*

** It's the only time in the year when we invite the entire membership at the same time, so make the most of it!

** Some of the activities listed below are old favourites, tried and tested. Some are new. Try them all!

** Remember that there are no private bedrooms in this house. Feel free to sleep over if you stay late, but don't expect to do it alone or with just your partner!

** There's a bathroom with a lock in the basement. There are three more around the house but the locks have been taken off them, so be prepared for company in those usually 'private moments' too, if you choose to use them.

**Every room in the house is clearly marked with door-labels advertising the activity provided, so ...

** Have fun fucking!"

Jayne had just read down to the first item on the menu -- 'Banbury Cross' -- when Gail re-appeared clutching some expensive looking clothes.

"What on earth is 'Banbury Cross', Gail?" she inquired.

"Don't you remember the old nursery rhyme?"

"Remind me..."

"Ride a Cock Horse To Banbury Cross

To see a fine Lady Upon a White Horse.

With Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

She shall have music wherever she goes.

Remember it now?"

"Ah, I think I get the picture."

"That one's just down the corridor actually, you might like to look in there first; some fine horse-flesh being tried I believe! You're looking good too, Jayne, by the way. Have you lost some weight?"

"Thanks for noticing! Yes, a few pounds."

"Mmmm ... nice. Just wait till Gary sees you, he's still hopping mad that he didn't get into you last time you were here. Anyhow, we haven't actually said a proper hello yet, have we? Are you dry now? Well, give us a quick kiss before you get dressed again then..."

"Of course," said Jayne, walking into her hostess's outstretched arms as if it was the most natural thing for an almost naked woman to do. But then, since on her first visit Gail had enjoyed long, lascivious minutes with her face between Jayne's thighs, kissing hardly qualified as a breach of decorum. "Mmmm ..." Gail purred, "you do taste good. Are you sure you're completely dry ..?" as she slid her right hand down into Jayne's panties...

*

Gail -- the real Gail -- stopped reading for a moment, took a long sip of wine, and looked up to where Jackie was watching her reactions cautiously.

"I'm a bit naughty in this story I see! How far do I go, exactly?"

"Read on and you'll find out."

"Have I ever come on to you, Jackie?"

"No."

"Do you wish I had?"

"Finish the story ..."

*

"Oh my word," cried Gail, "I've just slipped straight in! You are so wet down there! Whatever have you been thinking about, you minx! Listen, I'm not wearing panties, so if you'd like to reciprocate ...?"

Gail parted her legs far enough to give Jayne better access, while the latter reached down under her hostess's skirt to return the fingering.

"Well, you're a fine one to talk about me being wet! What's been happening down here!?"

"Hey! You may have only just got here, but I live here remember, so I've been on the go since the first guests arrived this morning. I must have been fucked at least half a dozen times already."

"And that would have been a sight worth paying to see!" said a new voice from the doorway as a very bedraggled David dripped his way into the kitchen. "I see you girls have started without me. Typical!"

"Never mind sweetheart," said his wife, "Gail's just getting me worked up, nothing serious. You get those wet things off quickly and I'm sure Gail will help you dry off, won't you Gail?"

Jayne gave the pussy she was feeling a last, deep, slow thrust, then pulled out, looking with satisfaction at her slimy fingers; she would have licked them if it had just been Gail's cream there, but the thought of those half-dozen men who'd been mentioned made her pause. Instead she wiped them on her panties and started to dress in the clothes Gail had offered. Seconds later she was on her way to explore the house's offerings while behind her Gail had just hoisted herself onto the kitchen table, pulled up her skirt around her waist, spread her thighs and was holding her pussy lips open for David to slide into. "Mmmm ... yes!" Jayne heard her exclaim, as she closed the kitchen door behind her, "We have some unfinished business don't we David, darling? Last time you were here you fucked me beautifully but not long enough to get me off. This time it's my turn to come, so just keep shagging me like that, lover. Oh, fuck, Yes! Yes! Get my tits out for me..!"

Jayne smiled to herself and set out down the corridor.

*

"Jesus, Jackie! In your head this is Jamie?" A nod. "And Gail is me?" Another nod. "And you walk out of the room while your husband starts to fuck me?"

"Well, it's not the first time..."

"Eh..?"

"In the fantasy. He's had you before, you see ..."

"And you don't mind???"

"Well, it's not real is it?"

*

Jayne paused at each door to study the notes attached outside. Some gave graphic descriptions of what was to be found within. Some were more cryptic. Many advocated the wearing of half-masks over the eyes by participants "to heighten the sensual effect", and helpfully provided boxes of these on tables at each entrance to be picked up or discarded as required.

The note outside the first door she came to simply read -- Cloaca Maxima. She nudged the door open, peeped in, gagged and beat a hasty retreat. The next was labelled Onan's Cave. She knew what to expect there and decided quickly against it; she got enough of that at home.

Then it was Banbury Cross, and this one she wanted to see more closely so she picked up a mask from the box, slipped it over her head and walked in. The lights here were dim and diffused, and very distantly a cello was playing. There were four divans around the room and on each, masked, horizontal and naked, were male figures. They weren't alone. Sitting astride each male was a female, also masked, but fully clothed, riding the man. Their voluminous skirts hid the activity underneath, but it was easy to see from their rhythmic bucking and swaying that they were working hard to bring off the men beneath them. It looked almost like a competition going on, the women increasingly frantic to make the men come; the men loving it but holding out for more, holding back on climaxing.

Jayne wandered from divan to divan, pausing at some just to watch, at others to touch very tentatively the sweaty male torso being teased. Her mask was starting to irritate her so she slipped it off, just at the same moment as did the woman riding the nearest man. Sweat was streaming down her face and she was breathless. "I thought I had him then," she whispered to Jayne, "but he held back somehow. Don't know how long I can keep this up! I keep coming but I can't make him shoot his load..!"

A quick decision from Jayne saw her reach under her skirt to shimmy her panties down and off, then climb up astride the man's masked face. She arranged her skirt comfortably so that the man beneath her was completely covered, then reached up to rest her hands on the shoulders of the woman riding him. "I think this might just do the trick, don't you?" she whispered, conspiratorially as she eased her wet pussy down onto the man's mouth. Almost instinctively his tongue, rigid and probing, came out to meet it and, just as easily, slipped into it. Slowly, so slowly, she stroked herself over his mouth, enjoying how deep into her he was reaching, revelling in how much she was leaking onto him. "I think we've almost got him, don't you?" she murmured, "is he tensing up?"

"Yes, oh yes!" her unknown assistant almost shouted, "he's so much bigger in me now and it's throbbing!"

"Well," thought Jayne, luxuriating in the moment, "he's about to get a surprise. Let's see if this works..." She took a deep breath and relaxed her bladder muscles, instantly feeling herself let go, but still very much in control. The man's mouth was filling, his face trapped between her strong thighs, and he had no choice but to swallow convulsively or choke. He was in a warm, stuffy darkness, all his senses overwhelmed by the rutting, heady smell of a female on heat, drenched in a forbidden cocktail of pee and cunt-spunk. He thrust upwards convulsively, almost as if in a fit, and helplessly shot his load into the twat that was milking him.

*

"Jackie," said a rather breathless Gail putting the pages down once more and reaching for her glass, "I just can't believe you actually thought this, let alone wrote it down!"

"Where are you up to?"

"If I read this correctly you just pissed into this guy's open mouth while he was tonguing you!"

"Oh, yes, I remember that. You haven't tried it?"

"Hey, I thought I knew you! Are you serious?"

"Does it disgust you?"

"I think it's a pretty extreme fantasy!"

"Do you let Gary watch you piss?"

"That's not the same!"

"Why not?"

"It's not for sport, is why not!"

"Does he like watching you do it ..? Does he ever want to feel you up before you can wipe yourself?"

"Well he ... I mean I ... we ..."

"That's what I thought."

*

The next door was labelled simply Trio and a woman outside it appeared to be on guard. Beside her were two boxes of masks which seemed identical at first sight, but looking closer Jayne could see that those in one had eyeholes while those in the other didn't, making them much like the masks used for sleeping.

"What happens here?" she asked.

The woman smiled and handed her a sheaf of large, glossy photographs which illustrated very clearly the activity which this room accommodated. "You need to be with a partner -- or at least teamed up with someone -- to be on the giving end. You're on your own and one of the sofas inside is vacant, so ... do you want to try it?"

Jayne looked over the photos again and came to another instant decision. "Oh yes, definitely ... but I need to get cleaned up first. Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Right behind you," smiled the door-warden. "There's a shower in there if you need it, or just a bidet ... as well as the toilet of course."

The bidet proved fine for her purposes and she was soon back out and collecting her mask for the Trio; as a recipient she needed one of the closed, 'blind' variety. The woman helped her to adjust it so that it was quite comfortable while making her effectively completely sightless. "All OK, then? Right, I'll take you in."

Obediently, Jayne let herself be led by the hand into the room and across to one of the sofas she'd seen in the photos outside. Her knees bumped against it and she put out her free hand to steady herself. "It's OK," said her guide, "I've got you. Can you just climb onto the sofa, then we'll get you fixed up?"

The sofa was firm but comfortable. Its back was a little higher than the usual and a little more upright; other than that the only remarkable thing about it was that extending from the edges of its top were a pair of restraints which she could just feel with her outstretched arms; they were soft velvet in construction and widely spaced, so that when Jayne's wrists were snared by them her arms were spread as wide as they would go along the sofa's ridge. "Is that comfortable?" asked her helper solicitously. "They're designed to hold you securely, but remember ... if you get uncomfortable at all, for whatever reason, just call out and one of us will release you straightaway. In this place you do only what you like doing; nobody will think the worse of you if you want to stop."

Jayne heard the door close quietly as the woman left her, and took some slow, deep breaths, enjoying the sense of anticipation. It was so quiet at first that she thought she must be alone. But then odd little noises contradicted that impression: an occasional low gasp; the sound of material being adjusted; some audible and rhythmic breathing; a moan of pleasure; what sounded like a slightly wet slapping noise which grew suddenly in pace and volume, accompanied by what could only be cries of delight. Yet she remained on her own, ignored. Ages seemed to pass. She began to feel restless and rather foolish, trussed here for the taking but with no takers. Then she heard the door open and close again. Another pause, the newcomers perhaps adjusting their vision to the room's low lighting.

Her ears now acutely sensitive to the slightest sound, she found she could almost feel someone walk across the room towards her, then kneel on the plush carpet behind the sofa, facing her. A woman's voice, close to Jayne's head: "She needs to be a little higher. Can you lift her?" There was something artificial about that voice, Jayne thought; it was as if the unseen woman kneeling in front of her was perhaps disguising it slightly by adopting a lower, huskier register. Or maybe she was just trying to make herself sound sexier?

Behind her she felt the seat of the sofa depress as someone much heavier knelt at her back. Strong but careful hands hooked under her armpits and she found herself being gently hoisted upwards and forwards. Now she was no longer simply kneeling against the sofa's back but leaning right over it, the ridge resting in her midriff; if there hadn't been someone supporting her from behind she would have almost felt that she was falling forwards. In the total darkness it was a strangely disorienting sensation.

"I'm just hanging here and they're making me wait," she thought. "Just left hanging ... in both senses."

Not for long, though. A woman's hands closed on the sides of her face, very gently, and lifted it slightly, bringing her head upright. She felt the tip, just the tip, of a tongue run softly along her lips, as if tasting them. She opened her mouth expectantly and the tongue instantly withdrew. Seconds later when it came back it was exploring her cheeks, with that same, careful, inquisitive passage across her skin. "It's almost animal-like," she thought, "like a wild animal using scent and smell to investigate a stranger." The careful probing became gentle licking; long, languorous licks, under her chin, beneath her ears; then, probing again, inside the ears, straining her sensitivity to its limits. When the lips came back to her mouth again and the tongue slipped inside to caress her own she felt herself almost physically collapsing into surrender to whatever these unknown strangers wanted.