A Dozen Oysters


I studied the reflection in the mirror: sleek, smooth, streamlined. Katherine had been right; I liked it. “All body hair to be removed.” Was the requirement. She was absolutely serious. In reply to my askance look she had said; “It will seem strange at first, but you will like it when you get used to it, both the feel and the look, it will make your cock look two inches longer.”

I turned sideways to check, my favourite toy certainly looked bigger than when emerging from the bush. It was in that midway stage, not trying to hide, soft and shrivelled. Not in plane-spotting mode, fully erect, single Cyclops eye pointing skyward. It was in that semi-erect state, thick and heavy with promise, curving elegantly from my bald pubis.

Getting myself into this hairless condition had been interesting. Expensive, time consuming, but not as painful as expected. Quite arousing in fact. And certainly interesting.

Jessica, my wife, has been a baldie for years, ‘Hollywood waxed’ as it’s known. She regularly used a parlour in north London for the procedure, they were a ladies only establishment, but they had an associated business who were unisex. I took the whole day off work, three to five hours being the estimate. My technician, Ulla, from somewhere in Scandinavia, was not only very good at her job, but a startling beauty. She wore a short tight white uniform with a full length front zip. She started on my back, at my shoulders, and worked downwards. By the time she reached my bum-crack, I was feeling horny. Lying face down, my erection was hidden, but when Ulla asked me to lie on my back, very noticeable! I tried to will it to behave, but that had the opposite effect. I apologised to Ulla for my lack of control.

“It’s normal.” She replied.

We took a break for coffee, but when Ulla started to touch me again, the flagpole raised again. Ulla looked at me over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses.

“Would you like me to fix it?” She asked.

“Yes please.” I replied, surprised at the offer.

Ulla slid the uniform zip down to navel level, revealing small firm tits, but keeping the nipples hidden except for when she leaned forward. And she leaned forward a lot. She wrapped her fingers around my straining pole; she was wearing surgical rubber gloves, which made the act seem sexier.

“This is extra.” She warned.

I nodded. She wanked me off very quickly, skilfully catching the spunk in a tissue. It did not completely cure my ‘problem’, but it took the pressure off and Ulla was able to finish my depilation. She did not, however, zip up her uniform, and I was treated to enticing glimpses of her pert treasures for the rest of the session. To complete the procedure, Ulla rubbed an emollient cream into the treated areas, causing regrowth, not of hair, but of erectile tissue.

“Again?” She asked.

I nodded.

This time, Ulla removed her overall, revealing a fine slim body, clad only in a thong, hold-up stockings and high-heels.

“Hands only,” She warned. “no fucking.”

Again I nodded. She curled her fingers, no gloves this time, around my boner. She was on my left, I used my left hand to fondle her firm arse cheeks. She did not object, this was ‘hands only’. I used the other hand to cup and fondle her tits, small, but with large, erect, ‘come-and-play’ nipples.

Using the slick cream as lubricant, she slid her hand up and down my length until the cream dried and the increased friction caused my foreskin to fully retract. Ulla held the base of my shaft with one hand and replenishing the cream, slid the other hand over the sensitive exposed glans until I was close to crisis. Sensing that I was close, she moved her hand to the top, forming a ‘spider’ with her fingers and using just the fingertips to gently but firmly stroke the bulb. I exploded into her hand, blasting her palm with several powerful spurts . When I was spent, she allowed the cum to trickle down her fingers, down my shaft, onto her other hand and on to my newly hairless balls.

Recollection of this had caused my semi to become a full erection. Not surprising as I had not ejaculated for four days, I was saving it up for tonight’s event, the event for which we were now preparing. I finished my business in the bathroom and, showered, shaved and perfumed, well, de-odorised, stepped into the bedroom. Jessica was standing with one foot on her dressing-table stool, adjusting the straps supporting her stockings. A six-strap, cupless basque in smooth black silk. I had not known such things existed, but it was certainly effective. My cock sprang back to attention; did I hear it slap against my belly? I was tempted to throw Jessica on the bed and to blow my savings. I reached for her. Jessica stepped away.

“Save it for later.” She advised.

We finished dressing and I called for a taxi to take us to where my pent-up cum would be released. The twenty-minute ride gave me time to reflect on the events leading up to tonight:

It had started about four months ago. Since before we were married, Jess and I have had an çanakkale escort ‘open relationship’. Meaning that we fucked others. We both travel because of our jobs, spending many nights in hotel rooms, with all the conveniences except the conjugal ones. There are almost always others in the same position and some no-strings sex breaks the monotony. It’s slightly risky on several levels, but we had never had any trouble. We were transparent about our philandering. In fact it added spice to our own sex life, we would relate our experiences, no doubt embellished, as foreplay. I find it a huge turn-on to hear how; “His cock was so big I could not fit my fingers round it, he needed lubricant to get it in my cunt.” Or how; “I sucked his cock until he came in my mouth, his spunk slid down my throat like I was swallowing an oyster”.

The oyster analogy was one of Jessica’s favourites. She has always maintained that semen is similar in taste and texture to oysters. And she loves both. Jess is a dedicated spunkaholic. She told me that she was hooked on it from the first time that she watched it spurt from the cock of a wanking boyfriend.

Our hotel room adventures were put on pause after we each had a bad experience; I had an overnighter in another town and after a spectacular session with a very accommodating red-head, woke up to find her gone, along with my wallet, watch, ‘phone and laptop. I had travelled by train, otherwise my car would probably have gone too. On the same evening, Jessica had gone to the bar of a nearby hotel and allowed a man to pick her up. His idea of pleasure turned out to be inflicting pain and although Jess gave as good as she got, she ended up with a black eye and some bruising.

We decided that we should find a safer way of satisfying our need for variety, by seeking out a ‘sharing’ group. On a swinger’s website I had seen a request for:

“Open minded couples to join a discerning, London-based, mutual pleasure society.”

I took my time to reply, giving careful thought to the wording. Many of the ‘ads’ on sites such as this were a bit crude, with photo’s of genitals and tits, and graphic descriptions of the delights on offer. Something told me that this ‘society’ was more subtle. I eventually settled for:

“Thirty-something couple. Intrigued by your ad.”

It had the desired effect, shortly afterwards we had a reply by email, asking us to complete a questionnaire! Some of the questions were a bit searching and I began to have doubts, but Jess pointed out that if the group was worth joining, they had to be choosy about the applicants. We completed the inquisition honestly.

The next step was to be invited to a cocktail party at a house in an upmarket part of London. Jess bought a new, short cocktail dress for the occasion; I wore a suit, but no tie. There were about twenty people present, ranging in age from, I would guess, late twenties to late fifties. We were introduced to all of them and during the evening, most of them sought us out for conversation. We were being interviewed. All of the guests seemed self-confident and clearly were not short of funds. At about ten, our hostess, Caroline, suggested that we should say our goodbyes. She would be in touch.

Apparently we passed inspection, we were called by a woman named Katherine and invited to tea at her house, in an even more desirable inner-London suburb. At the house, we were met by a Philipino man, who turned out to be the manservant. His wife was the housekeeper/cook and he was the butler/gardener/chauffeur. We were led upstairs to a huge, lavishly furnished drawing room where we were greeted by Katherine.

We had passed muster, now we had to decide whether to proceed. We had been investigated, to check if our responses to the questionnaire were true. I was slightly rankled at the thought of being investigated, but sensing my annoyance, Jessica silenced me with a scowl. Tea arrived and was placed on a low table positioned between the two huge sofas that held centre stage. My attention was drawn to the table. Made from dark wood, it was covered with erotic carvings showing couples and groups engaged in every imaginable sexual activity.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Said Katherine. “My husband’s grandfather bought the entire furnishings from a Paris brothel when they were officially closed in 1946. It’s a whipping bench. It’s no longer used, it’s too valuable, but we have a modern equivalent.”

In response to my raised eyebrows, she went on;

“Sado-masochism is not part of our scene, for ‘whipping’, read ‘fucking’. Sometimes a little mild bondage is involved, but everything is consensual.”

She went on to explain the other conditions of membership, which included: No smokers, no heavy drinkers, no illegal drug use. If I needed Viagra I was probably not suitable. All body hair to be removed. There were never more than 24 members. All members were married couples, all are regularly ‘health-checked’ for STI’s. Any sexual activity with non-members was to be ‘safe sex’, this enabled un-protected çeşme escort sex to take place between members. Members met for regular group sessions and could also call on any other member at any time for private two-somes or more-somes, according to taste. Homo-sexual contact was encouraged, but not a requirement. Dress code for the group sessions was full nudity for men. For women, nudity was an option, but anything that enhanced nudity was permitted, providing breasts, vagina and anus were fully accessible.

Before we could become full members, we would need to submit to the health checks and observe a quarantine period. Then we would have to be initiated. The initiation ceremony was described and it made my hair, and my prick, stand on end.

“Any questions?” Katherine ended.

“Yes,” I ventured. “The initiation seems to put the onus on Jessica, my part seems to be easy, isn’t that a little unfair?”

Katherine smiled and shook her head, then replied;

“A woman is capable of repeating the sex act almost without limit, men need time to recover. While a man is recovering after sex, his partner could service several more men. We simply exploit this fact of nature. The record for number of fucks in a day is supposed to be in excess of nine hundred. If true, that averages a cock every ninety seconds, not allowing for natural breaks! And your part is not as easy as you might think, you will have to witness your wife being used repeatedly, many men could not tolerate that. Then you have to perform when the rest have finished, with a critical audience. And yes, we have had applicants fail. But nobody wants that, at the party where we met there were seventeen members, yourselves and another couple who were also being ‘vetted’. After the party, you received seventeen ‘ayes’, the other pair, just twelve. You were chosen. We want you and we will do all we can to make you feel at ease.”

The manservant, Julius, removed the tea things and Katherine led the way to the basement, the playroom as she called it. The approach was along a corridor, either side of which was a cloakroom and a shower room with WC. The main door led to a room even larger than the sitting room, one side of which was occupied by a small swimming pool. The rest of the room contained gym equipment, against each wall were leather upholstered couches. Katherine explained than the gym stuff was stored away when the room was in use for it’s other purpose.

We agreed to let her know our decision the next day, after we had talked it over and slept on it. And now here we were, pulling up outside the house, ready to give a live-sex show.

Julius opened the door to us and showed us to the basement stairs, where we were left alone. As we descended the stairs, the door to the playroom opened and Katherine, clad only in an ivory coloured cupless basque, stockings and five inch heels greeted us with kisses. I was directed to the male cloakroom, Katherine led Jessica into the other. I stripped completely, checked myself in the mirror and stepped, feeling very vulnerable, back into the corridor. It seemed an age until the ladies appeared. Katherine was a stunningly beautiful woman, but Jess put her in the shade, her full shapely breasts, supported but not obscured by the basque and tipped by rigid dark pink nipples, crying out for attention. We were led to the playroom, the arena where we were to perform.

The members were in small groups, some seated, drinks in hand, behaving as though they were any party. The nudity seemed incidental. Jess and I accepted the offer of drinks, both choosing red wine, which was rich and aromatic.

“Let me know when you are ready.” Said Katherine.

She stayed with us as we surveyed the room and the other guests. Katherine had said that seventeen members had been at the cocktail party. Assuming an even split, eight or nine men. That meant that there were two or three men here that we had not met, men whose first contact with Jess would be by stuffing their cocks up her cunt. Amazing!

The wine began to take effect, helped by the tactile thud of the slow jazz music being played. Jess drained her glass and said to Katherine;

“I’m ready.”

Katherine tapped a long elegant fingernail against her empty crystal glass, the soft ring drawing the attention of the others. The music was turned down, Katherine asked;

“Shall we begin?”

The crowd moved to the sides of the room, revealing a low couch at it’s centre. About a metre and a half long, a metre wide and half a metre high. Upholstered in quilted red leather, it formed the shape of a ‘Y’, with a long base leg. I discovered later that it could also be shaped into an ‘X’, the ends being split and hinged. This was the fucking bench.

Two of the women moved forward and took Jessica by her hands, leading her to the bench. They helped her to kneel on it, her knees fitting into the quilted indentations, lower legs parted by the spread of the ‘Y’. She leaned forward as directed and rested her hands on the other end, so that she diyarbakır escort was on all fours, in the doggy position. One of the woman asked if Jess wanted to be restrained, there were Velcro fraps hanging beneath the bench. She declined the offer. Jessica’s legs were long enough to allow her feet to hang over the ends of the supporting bench legs, revealing the red soles of Jessica’s Christian Louboutin shoes, which matched the red of the bench.

Before they left her, the women checked that she was comfortable, making sure that Jess’s tits hung free of the basque and finally, pulling the rearmost suspender straps in to her bum-cleft. The natural elasticity of the straps pulled her cheeks slightly apart, revealing her moist slit and the dark rosebud anus above it.

Katherine nodded to a tall man who had drawn close. He was Katherine’s husband Gilles. In his late forties, dark hair, greying at the temples. He stepped forward. The room was completely silent but for the muted music, I could hear my heart thudding in my chest.

He ran his hands gently over Jessica’s smooth arse cheeks, causing her to gasp, then down, letting his thumbs follow the indentations created by the taut suspender straps. Finally, he moved his hands back up, thumbs in the bum-cleft, parting Jessica’s cunt lips and brushing gently over her arsehole. Relinquishing Jess’s treasures, he moved one hand to his erect cock and pulled back the foreskin, revealing a bulging purple knob which he placed against Jess’s gaping cleft and pushed so that it lodged at the threshold. He remained still for several seconds then pushed home up to his balls. Jess groaned at the intrusion. Holding himself fully engaged, he reached under to cup Jess’s hanging tits, then moved his hands to her hips, drew most of the way out, and rammed back hard. Jess cried out in surprise as he fucked her very hard and very fast, coming very quickly. I was close, very close, close enough to see his arse clench as his spurts flooded Jessica’s cunt.

He withdrew immediately, a silver string of mucous joined cock to cunt for just a split second before breaking. Gilles’ cock shone with their combined juices. He stepped aside and his place was taken by a second man. Black, quite short, built like a boxer, his head shaved so that he was completely hairless. There were no preliminaries this time, he presented his short, thick cock to Jess’s portal and pushed ball deep in one thrust. Jess yelped in surprise. He fucked her brutally, roaring like a bull when he came in what seemed like only seconds.

Like well drilled soldiers the men queued for their turn, completing the task quickly and efficiently when Jess’s hole became free. They had previously drawn lots for the order of servicing, and they all ejaculated inside her. After the first two or three it would have been impossible to prove, there was so much cum inside her, but they were members, all trusted to complete the act, which required them to add their contribution before moving aside.

Jessica told me later that she was apprehensive until the first cock speared her, then she started to enjoy it. After the fourth however, she had lost interest and simply counted them all in and out until it was over.

After number six, one of Jessica’s attendants called for a pause to check that she was capable and willing to continue. This allowed me a view of her inflamed and sopping cunt. Spunk surrounded her hole and rivulets ran down her thighs to be soaked up by the thick welts of her stocking tops, but most of the combined spendings had run out to form a small pool on the polished wooden floor beneath her spread thighs. I say ‘run out’, this is not strictly true, I remember reading that the head of the penis is shaped the way it is so that it can displace any semen already inside the vagina, then rake it out on the back stroke. This enables the last load to be the one most likely to impregnate the female. Six rigid cocks had displaced and scavenged inside Jessica’s battered fuck-hole. The result was pooling on the floor beneath.

Until that point my cock had been so hard that it hurt, but the gang-bang debris seemed anything but erotic. My cock shrivelled. In front of me, cock number seven was being pushed into my wife. He came. And went. Number eight took his place, then nine. My prick was still like a limp lettuce leaf. I was not going to be able to perform.

My plight had not gone un-noticed by my hostess, she took me in hand and provided some much-needed stimulation. She was assisted by a gorgeous, totally naked black woman who knelt before me and sucked my tip into her mouth, sucking as Katherine wanked. They brought me back to full strength just in time, number eleven was on the short strokes, then blasting his offering into Jessica’s brimming hole.

It was my turn. Holding my resurrected tool, I positioned myself and offered the tip to the sopping fuck-pit. Jess’s count was acurate, she knew that it was me. She looked around for the first time and gave me an encouraging smile. I pushed home. I had been expecting her cunt to be slippery, but not expecting the heat. A hot wet cunt for my pleasure. Jess clenched her pelvic muscles and gripped my shaft, providing the necessary friction as I thrust into her. I fucked hard until I felt the cum start it’s journey. I pulled out of her.

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