Friday, March 16, 2012

The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X, Installment Thirteen

My darling X,

You are, indeed, a treasure. A jewel more precious than any owned by the crown. A flower rarer than the most exotic orchid. Love and pride for you war for supremacy in my heart. I am so filled with both.

I had no idea what would happen to you in the side chamber. The others would only smirk and make suggestive comments about your “preparation.” One woman claimed that her own initiation had caused her to swoon. Another said that she’d become so overcome with lust that she would have used the first phallic object she could have put her hand on if she hadn’t found a man immediately on entering the main salon. All agreed they’d never experienced such sexual need and frustration.

The entire party declared that my test should be to watch another man fuck you while you were in that state. They even drew lots for the opportunity to offer themselves to you when you emerged. You saw them, dearest, all four of them lined up with their members at the ready to serve your eager cunny. I watched your eyes go wide as your gaze went from the first to the last of them, and I held my breath waiting to see which one you’d choose. I was prepared to become filled with jealousy. Instead, you set your chin at that determined angle I’ve come to know so very well, and you walked past them all.

I could tell how each step cost you. Your flesh had turned the livid color it assumes just before you explode into orgasm. I knew how desperately you needed to spend, and my cock responded so forcefully I thought it might burst through my trousers. When I released Priapus from his confinement, as the others had done, I realized that only one woman could satisfy his demands. Though it could have cost me the opportunity to stay, having failed the test they’d set for me -- to stand by and watch -- I determined that I should be the one to give you relief from your suffering.

Because I approached you from behind, you didn’t realize that it was my arm that had gone around you. I think you felt the love in my touch, though, because although you’d already rejected four potential lovers, you allowed me to guide your hand my throbbing member and then nodded your assent to a frantic coupling.
I found a chair to support you, lifted your shift, and drove myself home. Into your welcoming chamber, so wet and ready to receive me. I instantly discovered an unexpected reason for the height of your arousal. I’d only noted the odd item of your underclothing to the extent to realize that it wouldn’t hinder my entrance into your pussy. Now I encountered the ointment that had so inflamed your pearl. With your juices flowing so copiously, your sex was bathing mine in it.

I went quite mad, my darling. I can only thank the good services of Lady Anne for preparing you so completely for the force of my thrusts. As deep as I went, I couldn’t get deep enough. Nor as fast or as hard. A primitive need consumed me. To possess, to ravish, to leave my mark on you. And I wanted them all to watch so that there could be no question that you and I were mated. We might dally with others, but this union was the one that came from our souls.

We both spent in an instant, my sex taking its cue from yours as your inner muscles contracted rhythmically around my shaft. Everything else disappeared from my consciousness. For all I knew, we were the only two people in the world as my ungracious noises played a counterpoint to your sweet song. I emptied myself into you until you’d drained me.

I scarcely noticed the praise from the others until my mind had returned to some semblance of rationality. We’d impressed them with our performance, but of course, none of the credit really belonged to me. Your bravery had won the day for both of us. We’d been accepted and could now enjoy all the pleasures the salon afforded. I’ll leave it to you to describe what we did next. I’ll now lay my head on the pillow and let memories of the evening accompany me into sleep. I’ll dream of you.

For this night and forever, I remain,

Your adoring Richard.

*
My dearest,

Scamp that you are, you would give me the task of putting to paper our further exploits at Sir Walter’s den of iniquity. Even a woman of my experience has to blush while describing the details of the naughty game the group engaged in. Someone, likely Sir Walter himself, had written sex acts and positions onto small pieces of paper, and each lady drew one. Starting with Mrs. Smythe, who sat in one corner of the room, each lady was to choose a partner and then read her task aloud to the group. She and the gentleman would then perform their assigned act, and the others would score their performance on a card we’d been given.

Mrs. Smythe appointed as her partner a gentleman who’d only tell us his name was George. George, as it turned out, had a member quite marvelous to behold. So long and thick one could scarcely believe it was real. She looked upon it with lust but not, as far as I could tell, any great surprise. She must have craved the monstrosity for some time and now saw her opportunity to have it in her cunny. How we all laughed when she read the instructions to learn that her assignment was not coitus but to fellate the beast to orgasm.

I was quite sure she’d choke if she even tried to put her mouth around the head, which truth be told was as large as a plum and nearly as purple. Still, she dropped to the floor in front of George, gripped his cock at the base, and proceeded to lick him from the root to the tip. She continued with such energy and abandon, that she’d soon coated his length.

For his part, George took great delight in her efforts. His gaze went soft and hazy as his arousal became acute. His chest rose and fell erratically, and his breath came in harsh gasps. The perfect vision of a man receiving the ultimate kiss.

After long moments of the good services of Mrs. Smythe’s tongue, the lady gathered together the courage to confront George’s mammoth tool more directly. Still holding him by the base, she stared at his cock as if it might be a serpent that would bite her. Clearly a woman deciding to face her fears. After a few deep breaths, she slid her lips over the tip. A few of the ladies gasped as she managed to get her mouth around the entire head and then down the shaft an inch or more.

“How does she do it?” one female voice gasped.

“I’d faint if I tried,” another said. “I know I would.”

I watched in rapt attention. I shared the trepidation the others felt, but I also had to wonder how I would breathe around such a pole of rigid male flesh. Of course, if I did, he might reward me with a ride on that stallion. Would that hurt, or would it take the art of fucking to a new level? I resolved, if you’ll allow it, to take have a go with George at the first opportunity. We’d both entered the salon with the intent of having dalliances with others. Why shouldn’t I enjoy George?

My thoughts had wandered, but now George’s grunts brought me back to reality. George’s lust had overcome him, and he’d threaded his fingers into Mrs. Smythe’s hair as his hips moved to push himself deeper into her mouth. The poor thing struggled to maintain some control of how much she had to take, but George was so much stronger than she. When quite himself, he would never have done anything to hurt her, but his orgasm had come upon him.

Again, the ladies exclaimed their concern, and even one of the men remarked that something should be done. Mrs. Smythe finally wrested herself free from George’s grip. Though she struggled for breath, she nevertheless managed to stroke his shaft with the fingers of both hands. All the way from the end to the root, she worked his crimson flesh as he stiffened and released a shout.

Semen streamed from him in waves, landing on her clothing and the floor. An amazing spectacle as it continued, over and over. I’ve seen men spend before, but I’d never witnessed anything like George’s cock as he came. Not even your beloved member has ever given a performance like that. Yes, I shall certainly have George, with your agreement, of course.

All good things must end, and so George finally returned to himself. As the rest of us applauded at how the two of them entertained us, he gave Mrs. Smythe his handkerchief so she could clean up his considerable emissions. She smiled very prettily and begged to keep it as a token of her accomplishment, to which he readily agreed.

After we‘d scored that couple, the game progressed, and I’ll allow you to tell that part of the story as you had a crucial role in it. I know what I saw. I long to learn how you experienced it.

Until then, I’m still,

Your besotted X

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