A Sexual Initiationbyshambles©
Pierre was not my lover, even though we lived in the same estaminet. But we had been friends for a long time, ever since I had come to live in Paris.. He didn't seem to make friends easily, and I think he was envious of all the friends I had. It was so much easier for a girl in those days in Paris.
He certainly envied me my monthly meetings at the Salon. All he knew about them was that I belonged to some kind of Secret Society, and I refused to tell him anything about it. Anyway, finally I agreed to put him up for membership. We had to wait three months, because the Society only inducted new members in pairs, and the requirements for membership were strictly observed.
Finally the evening arrived, and I took Pierre to the old mansion where we met. He had so many questions--- what we did at our meetings, why it was so secret, why the fees were so steep, and more than anything why he was required to pass a medical examination before being accepted.
He was greeted by two gentlemen, who escorted him to the changing room and explained that he would be required to change into a white robe for the initiation ceremony. After a suitable time had elapsed, he was fetched by the same two gentlemen, and escorted into the main reception room where we all waited.
He must have been intrigued by the requirement to remove all his clothes before donning the ceremonial white robe. He must have been even more impressed by the sight that awaited him. Sixty of us were standing in two lines, thirty men along one side of the banquet hall and thirty women along the other side. All of us stood applauding him, all of us stark naked, some of the men already displaying their anxiety to begin the evening's entertainment, their banners at various stages of erection. The white robe was taken from Pierre, and he was required to walk the length of the room between the two ranks. Few men could have gazed at the row of naked women, all deliberately displaying their sexual attractions as ostentatiously as they knew how, without developing a respectable erection. Pierre was not one of those few. His chopper rose to the horizontal almost immediately, and as he walked across the hall the ladies applauded his tumescence enthusiastically. I should explain that Pierre was a young man of superb stature, and I was already regretting not earlier proposing him for membership.
Another door opened, and another white gowned figure was escorted into the room. She also was divested of her robe, and also required to walk between the two ranks of naked spectators. This was a young lady, beautiful of feature and magnificent of other bodily parts. As we all were, for membership required the qualification of sexual attractiveness.
This new initiate walked proudly past the eighty critical, and in most cases lascivious, eyes, her pointed breasts thrust forward and jiggling from side to side as she walked. Little could be seen of the portion of her anatomy I was sure must already be hungry to swallow the prick she could see waiting for her. Her pubic area was shaved smooth, and her outer lips were still virginally closed.
We broke ranks, and the two initiates were taken to separate couches brightly lit by floodlights. The remainder of the lights in the room were lowered so that no-one's face could be recognized.
The preparations were simple, though stimulating. Each initiate was to be prepared for the ceremony of the nuptial ravishment, and we all gathered round one or other of the couches to watch. Pierre was laid full length on his back, his organ swollen and rampant as he realized the import of the proceedings, and the girl whose name I learned was Rosamund was similarly stretched out on her back. Two beautiful naked nymphs were assigned to Pierre, while two well endowed stallions were to attend his bride of the evening. As I watched the two naked girls whose duty it was to stimulate Pierre to complete readiness, and the girl Rosamund who was to be similarly stimulated, the memory of my own initiation had my own cunt already achingly empty and wetting my naked thighs. Indeed, I had to restrain myself with difficulty from using my fingers to masturbate it. It was against the rules of the club for any man or woman to minister to his or her own sexual desires.
One of the girls gently spread Pierre's legs, and fitted a cock ring over his cock, forcing it down till it lodged against the front of a ball bag that the heat of the room had made large and loose. The other girl poured lotion from a bottle into the palm of her hand, and began to lubricate the prick that was rising like a pole from Pierre's crotch. At first it was a simple act of spreading the liquid over every part of his cock, making sure that no part of it remained unlubricated. But soon it became an act of masturbation, as her fingers enclosed the swelling shaft, squeezing and massaging, stretching the sensitive cleft on its underside and leaving the great mushroom shaped knob to swell by itself.
I took a quick look at the onlookers, though unwilling to miss any of Pierre's initiation into public masturbation. Among the onlookers hands were being taken in hand, and guided to play with genitalia that must have felt like mine, desperate for stimulation. My own arm was already reaching round the naked thighs of the man in front of me, my fingers finding the erection that watching the ministrations of Pierre's two nymphs was evidently causing. Quickly, as I watched the reactions of Pierre's prick, I was enclosing my companion's prick and exploring its whole tumescent length. And then a hand whose origin I was not concerned to trace was caressing my groin, finding the wet opening of my vulva, pressing my clitoris, stimulating my labia, probing the wide open entrance of my vagina.
The raw sexuality of the whole initiation, the sight of Pierre's nakedness, the awareness that almost unbearable masturbation was being suffered by a friend I had never before considered sexually, the excitement of playing with an anonymous prick, and the effects of skilful masturbation of my own genitalia by an unknown hand were combining to take me over the top. My own body began to writhe, and my gasps joined an increasing orgasming chorus from around me.
Meanwhile the knob at the end of Pierre's prick was being encircled by a gentle finger and thumb which caressed the great distended fruit whose surface was so stretched that it shone smooth and bright red. The other naked attendant was leaning over Pierre's face, her swelling nipple pressed into his willing mouth, and instinctively my free hand went to my own breast to squeeze and excite my own nipple. Pierre's thighs were opening and closing, his whole body beginning to writhe as mine had moments before. I wondered how long it would be before he was ready to ejaculate, something that must on no account occur too early in the proceedings. But the girls were experienced, and would know just how far they could provoke him before giving the onlookers the explosion they waited for..
I decided to see what was happening to the other half of the ceremony. Reluctantly I released the swollen prick that my hand was enclosing, and disconnected the fingers exploring my cunt. I had to force my way between the press of naked bodies to cross the room to where Rosamund lay stretched out on a couch, naked, her writhing body being stimulated by her two attendants. One great stud stood astride her head, his rampant prick thrust out from between his thighs just inches above her face while his balls swung close above her eyes. Each of his hands held one of her breasts, caressing, squeezing, kneading, his fingers frequently moving to rub and squeeze tumescent nipples that projected from their aureola like two little penises. The other stud's face was between her widespread thighs, his tongue thrust as far inside her throbbing cunt as it would reach and one thumb rubbing a clitoris like a tiny nut.
As I watched, Rosamund's legs opened wider still, and then convulsively closed to cross over her stud's back, her thighs holding his head imprisoned in her crotch. Her whole body was writhing in ecstatic agony, her breasts thrusting up against her tormentor's hands, her belly rolling from side to side, her navel opening and closing like a winking eye. I could hear a succession of moans and wails as her head tossed from side to side.
I was glad that I had arrived in time, because at that moment the orgasm that had been steadily growing finally erupted. A muffled scream escaped Rosamund's mouth. Her legs flew apart and kicked wildly into the air. Her hands clamped onto her attendant's head to press it even more closely into the cunt that must have already have been soaking his face with her juice, and was now filling his mouth with the cum of a glorious orgasm. And a groping hand belonging to the anonymous person in front of me found my cunt and began to masturbate it at a rate that told me its owner, too, must have been in the throes of orgasm.
Rosamund was lucky, I thought. She could be made to cum again and again, and still be ready for the final act. Pierre would have to be manipulated carefully. The rules required him to be worked up to the maximum before erupting in an orgasm worthy of the occasion, after which he must be brought again to the brink, ready for the triumphant finale. I wanted to return to Pierre, but the hand masturbating me belonged to an expert and there was no way I could tear myself away from the excruciating delight of a coming cumming. I gave myself up to ecstasy, and thrust my groin into the unknown hand, willing it to stretch my cunt wider, to masturbate faster, to never never stop. The sight of the naked girl cumming so violently on the couch, the thought of the excruciating pleasures being induced by her two tormentors having their way with her nipples and her cunt, and the sensations coursing through every part of my clitoris and my vagina finally overwhelmed me. And I forgot about my friend Pierre in the ecstasy of my orgasm.
As I was coming down from the peak, I was aware of a hard object stabbing urgently between my ass cheeks, and I remembered my duty to give to others the pleasure that I had just enjoyed. I reached behind me to find a rock hard prick that unaccountably had no hand to masturbate it to its imminent climax. I was only just in time, because as my hand closed round it and before I could begin pleasuring it the whole rigid shaft surged, and the semen that must have been boiling inside began spurting out and pouring over my cheeks. My masturbating hand knew exactly what to do, and timed its thrusts to the ejaculations, never stopping till it had drained every last drop of jism from deep inside the man behind me..
When I was finally capable of thinking about Pierre again, I made my way through the naked and mostly orgasming crowd
toward Pierre's couch. Pierre's face was out of sight, buried beneath the buttocks of one of his attendants. She was kneeling astride his head, her rounded ass seated firmly down on his face, squirming itself round and round to extract every last scrap of sexual delight from the feel of his mouth pressed into her cunt as she forced her crotch onto his face in her orgasm. This was supposed to be for him, I thought, not for the tormentors. But when I looked at the bloated weapon in the masturbating hand of the other nymph, I could see they had done their job well. Pierre would not last much longer.
I lost interest as my hand encountered an unoccupied prick, not yet fully firm but already able to throb in response to my masturbation. It was always a pleasure to achieve the satisfaction of working a soft prick into tumescence, and then to the stiffness of a lance, and then to milk every last drop of sperm from his loaded testacles.
I looked back at Pierre when I heard a gasp from the audience. Pierre's pelvis was heaving into the air above the couch, and I was just in time to watch a wonderful ejaculation rise like a fountain out of the swollen knob in the girl's masturbating hand. Again and again he squirted his jism into the air, till his spent body sank back onto the couch.
At this point the two nymphs changed places, evidently so that the one with the masturbating duty could experience the cunnilingus her partner had already enjoyed. Pierre was to be brought to the very brink of a second orgasm before being led to the sacrificial altar. I moved back to join those watching Rosamund's preparations.
There had been a change during my absence. The gigantic prick that had been blocking Rosamund's view was now thrust into her mouth, her red lips firmly gripping the shaft while she sucked rythmically at the knob. The other stud had moved his mouth from her cunt to her clitoris, which he was alternately stroking with his tongue and sucking between his lips. As I watched, Rosamund screamed again and flung her legs over the stud, drumming her heels on his back in the intensity of another orgasm.
I had lost count of how many orgasms the girl had experienced. Someone had apparently been counting, because she was lifted from the couch and led slowly toward the sacrificial altar in the center of the room. Her pink brown aureoles had swollen till they stood out cone-shaped from her breasts, and her nipples were a raw red as if they had been sucked till she could bear no more. The outer lips of her cunt protruded from a vulva which was no longer the demure slit we had seen when she entered the hall but a gaping, hungry mouth.
Rosamund was laid across the sacrificial altar, a padded pedestal shorter than the couches had been, with a raised pillow at one end and two stirrups at the other. She lay limply, her arms hanging down from her shoulders, her breasts thrust upward and displaying the tumescence resulting from the attention they had received. Her two studs opened her thighs and raised her knees, fitting her feet into the two stirrups so that her legs were spread wide apart. A spotlight above the altar came on, bathing her naked body starkly in brilliant white light. Every detail of her exposed nakedness showed clearly, though all eyes would have been focused on the sacrificial opening between her thighs. She had been warned beforehand to shave every scrap of hair from her genital area. The Mound of Venus was still pink after the shaving, seeming to rise up more from her belly because of its nakedness. Her wide-stretched thighs were opening her cunt even wider that when her studs had been masturbating her, her lips projecting fleshily on each side of the wide open entrance to her tunnel of love. Her clitoris had been well sucked and showed teasingly out of the cleft in her mound. And as we looked, the cunt-juice was still trickling out.
This evidence of the intensity of her sexual excitement had my very entrails clenching. But then Pierre was being led to the altar, his magnificent erection pointing upwards, thick and swollen, the head bloated and smooth, and this only built up my arousal till I had difficulty keeping my hands away from my own throbbing genitalia.
There was a burst of applause from the audience. Pierre was placed in position between Rosamund's open thighs. One of his nymphs took his prick in her hand and guided it to the opening of Rosamund's vulva. There was a gasp from one of the ladies. There seemed to be no way that enormous cock-head could penetrate the opening in front of it. But that was the reason for all the preparation. After all the sucking it had enjoyed, and after so many intense orgasms, Rosamund's cunt was wider than she could ever have known it. But Pierre's prick was about to widen it a great deal more.
The President of the Club stepped beside the altar. "Go!" he commanded.
The nymph released her hold of Pierre's prick, and Pierre leaned forward. Rosamund's cunt was already an open door, the guarding lips protruding out into her crotch. The door was forced even wider, and the great red cock-head disappeared inside. Once sure that he was in, Pierre thrust hard, and the whole length of his shaft slid into Rosamund's belly till his groin was pressed hard against her crotch.
Now began the contest. Pierre's admission to the Club depended on his being able to make his sacrificial bride cum before he himself came. He would have to pace himself, using all his skill to stimulate the interior of Rosamund's vagina without making himself cum. And yet, he must be already on the brink himself. That was the object of the all the preparation. That, and to provide the members with entertainment, of course.
Pierre was withdrawing, slowly, steadily, till just the head of his cock remained in Rosamund's cunt. Then he started to rotate his pelvis as he thrust forward again, making sure that every part of her vagina was filled and stimulated..
Rosamund's hips began to rise and fall as he rotated. In and out, slowly, powerfully, filling her belly, showing the audience the length of his prick with each withdrawal so that it seemed that when he thrust again his cock-head must be reaching almost to her winking navel. Rosamund was breathing in great gasps, her breasts rising and falling and jiggling at the same time My cunt was alive and almost on the point of orgasm, wishing it could be receiving Pierre's great machine. I felt beside me, feeling for a hand that was not already busy. I found one, and brought it to my cunt. The fingers opened, and explored my open playground ,very slowly masturbating me. But whoever the gentleman was, he was evidently determined not to let me cum before the principal actors showed us their orgasms, in whatever order they came.
My own hand reached out to find the crotch that must belong with the hand that was fondling me. The thighs were
parted, and a stiff, hard pole projected from where they joined.
Hungrily I enclosed it, but unlike it's owner I had no self control to time his orgasm to those on display. I worked that prick as if it had been my own cunt, urgently and desperately.
Pierre had increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. With every thrust Rosamund's belly was raised off the altar and her breasts heaved. Her feet were held fast in the stirrups, but her knees were scissoring. She was squirming her torso from side to side, her breasts rolling with their weight. Then her whole body was rolling, flinging itself abandonedly, out of control. And Pierre's piston was plunging deep inside her, faster and faster, threatening to burst her belly apart with every thrust.
With all the stimulation that Pierre had received from his two masturbators, and the ultimate friction it must be receiving inside Rosamund's cunt, it seemed incredible that his prick could hold out any longer without exploding in the most violent orgasm he could ever have experienced. But still his whole pelvis continued to thrust ever more violently into the angle between Rosamund's widespread thighs. And still his sacrificial bride continued to writhe and heave, her hands held tightly by two attendants who must surely be on the point of cumming themselves, her feet secured into the stirrups and her pelvis anchored by the length of the shaft penetrating so deep into her entrails.
And then it happened. We all heard the scream. "I'm cumming!! I can't hold on any longer. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Oh god, don't stop, keep on fucking me, let me feel you cumming with me. Pour your spunk into me, fill my belly with your cum!"
Pierre complied. I doubt if he could have held back a moment longer. His head went back and a hoarse voice yelled "I'm cumming!! Here it comes. I'm going to fill your belly with semen. Suck it in, deep inside you. Suck me dry. Suck every last drop of sperm out of me."
For minutes more, it seemed, Pierre went on ramming his rod into the depths of the heaving body, still plunging hard but with ever longer intervals between the strokes. Rosamund was gasping and sobbing, no longer writhing from side to side but jerking her belly and her pelvis up from the sacrificial altar with every thrust of Pierre's prick.