twice a month i visit the city. it provide me with a necessary breath of impure and delicious air. even the underground train is saturated with the refreshing scents of sex - and though it is often a little stale, and mingled with sweat, it has its own purity. it certainly renews my spirit, and faith in the human condition.
i stay with old friends in a slim townhouse that overlooks one of the many parks that grace this fine city. it is neat and elegant building on the outside. the interior is a little less... respectable - though it is hardly a den of debauchery. the decor is eclectic and, aside from a fine collection of japanese erotic prints, it offers few hints of the weekend 'parties' it has become infamously famous for over the years.
as a guest (perhaps even a respected one) I have the advantage of my own room, which is much appreciated as the 'parties' themselves are less delicious to me as they once were, and i like a place to withdraw to should i feel it necessary.
the seething and writhing of the communal fuck does not hold the allure that it once did. it is a rather untidy arrangement for my tastes, all those limbs and cock and cunt and very little time taken to properly savour the moment. to my old eyes it is a confusion, a rut and pound of flesh, and all too rushed to provide the means of pure pleasure.. to me at least. though i would never deny this delightful brood their indulgences. and, occasionally, i have been known to encourage them in their labours.
generally, though, i prefer to have my hostess join me in my room. and while her husband of twenty two years, revels in the yards of flesh in the room below, we explore other... possibilities.
it is my hostesses habit to bring with her a 'novice' for our 'corruption'. pale women, as a rule, and rather timid in their manner. M attends the local methodist church specifically for this purpose. she says that she has learned to know, almost by instinct, which of these sallow and saintly creatures is most likely to have impure thoughts.
'they pray so much more... devoutly, than the others,' she explained once, 'as though to be saved from their internal sins.'
quite how M introduces these women to the subject of their sexual liberation, remains a mystery to me. all i know is that her 'serpent' temptations, more often than not, prove to sweet to be resisted.
on my latest visit the creature she presented looked very dry and unpromising. not quite frail (she was barely out of her forties) but brittle to look at, and there was little in her eye to suggest arousal.. to begin with. she was dressed as the church-mouse she was. a neat wollen suit, a modest beige blouse and very sensible shoes. i liked her immediately.
'this is G,' said M. 'she is a church widow, keeps a very neat house, and says that her husband, sadly passed, was a.. tepid lover. rarely hard and always.. conventional'
G blushes a little and lowers her eyes. but her thin lips are moist now and and there is a trace of a smile (not quite wicked) beginning to form.
from below the sounds of fucking have intensified.
M gets down onto all fours. she is wearing a modest and pretty dress which she now hoists to expose her naked arse. i watch G as her eyes, despite her best efforts, stray in the direction of M. unconsciously she licks her lips and i can almost feel the dilation of her pupils. i can certainly see that her nipples have begun to bud.
'spread you cheeks,' i instruct M. 'let G see your cunt, and how wet it is.'
M is very compliant at such times.
'have you ever tasted cunt G?'
G shakes her head. in fact she is shaking all over by then. little shivers of some delight or other passing up her bony frame. she is no longer blushing.. but now wears a bright and promising flush on her cheeks.
'get on your knees now.. and taste her,'
i love the city. so much happening, and never a dull moment.
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