by Noel Amos
Melissa began to sing but she was not alone on stage, she had Arnold by the hand and addressed the song to him. She sang it differently too, at a faster tempo and Seb could be seen casting anxious looks in her direction as he urged the orchestra to keep up.
The audience were with her. They had not regained their seats, indeed they had pushed towards the front and were clapping in time. Some of the women at the back had climbed on men's shoulders, many stood on seats and waved their arms in the air. Wraps were cast aside, jackets shrugged off and ties unfastened. This was party time...
On stage Melissa began to strip Arnold. First his bowtie, then his cuff-links, then off with the jacket. Her singing got raunchier, she began to bump and grind, Arnold shimmied back, the temperature rose.
Billy had a strange premonition about what was going to take place. But then he knew what kind of weaponry Arnold carried in his pants.
In the crowd many breasts were bare, strapless gowns had slipped unheeded and blouses had been magically removed by eager hands. Few erections had subsided, the Bedside Punch had seen to that, and those that had were revived by the display of flesh - both on-stage and off.
Melissa was an innate show-woman and she turned Arnold's back to the audience as she eased his thin briefs over his firm buns, keeping the discovery of his penis to herself. For a moment her voice faltered and then swelled in triumph as she took in the unique proportions of what she had uncovered.
There were shrieks and yells from the women in the crowd. They were impatient to see it, too, and so she teased them, prolonging the moment before she slowly, tantalisingly, turned him round.
Billy thought he saw two women in the crowd faint but he couldn't be sure. The collective gasp at the sight of Arnold's gargantuan dick drowned out the orchestra and then things got a little out of hand.
Melissa pushed Arnold onto his back, hoisted her dress and impaled herself on his rearing cock. She sank down on it in one movement like a disgraced Roman on his sword. But the smile that split her face as she did so was that of a woman who had found the answer to her prayers.
And then the mass fucking began.
Chapter 63
Arnold's punch was not intrinsically strong - at least according to his calculations. His aim was to loosen a few inhibitions, to provide a way of slipping free from the straitjacket of polite society. He wanted an evening of midsummer madness. It could be said that he got it.
In the event, Arnold's punch was more powerful than planned, the night was hotter than he had foreseen and the audience drank like fishes. Even the teetotallers. 'Have you tasted it, darling? It can't be that strong. Lovely evening. Think I'll have another.'
The consequence was that by the time Melissa Melone had pulled her dress up her statuesque thighs and fed all of Arnold's tremendous pole into her gaping pink split, the audience were in a frenzy of excitement.
In the aisle by Henrietta Sumner a tall thin blonde crouched on all fours, her black sequined skirt pulled up over her bare and quivering buttocks.
'Stick it in, Hugo,' she commanded her boyfriend who knelt behind her, fumbling, 'and hurry up, for Christ's sake!'
Henrietta coolly bent over, took hold of his big penis and helped him to ease its length into the girl's impatient hole. Then she slipped her arms from her crepe bias-cut gown and pulled the boy's head into her still-girlish and trembling bosom. 'Oh yes,' she cried, 'that feels wonderful. Suck my tits, you naughty boy, and promise you'll fuck me next!'
The orchestra played on as the stage filled with bodies, many naked, many still clinging to incongruous bits of finery. Seb Silk was wearing just his socks as two of the mini-skirted Drax sisters, now minus their halters, took it in turns to mouth his cock. While they did so he moved his left hand backwards and forwards across their dangling titties and conducted the orchestra with his right.
Candy Kensington, down to just her suspenders and stockings, took on all-comers on top of a dais at the back of the stage. It cannot be said, however, that she had lost all sense of the occasion. Assisted by a naked Katie Crisp she demanded money in aid of her cause before allowing admirers to place a finger on her seductive form. A naked suitor protested that he had no means of payment to hand. Katie produced a camera and took a full-frontal shot. 'A cheque in the post tomorrow, or else,' she said as Candy twined slim fingers round his bobbing member, 'made out to Poor Pussy.'
'It'll be Filthy Rich Pussy by the time the night's out,' he muttered as he allowed Candy to guide his aching hard-on between her legs.
In the small box above the stage young Thomas and Giles would have had a terrific vantage point from which to add to their store of sexual knowledge. However, they only had eyes for their shapely aunt who had now stripped to the waist to allow each of her young admirers to suckle on a swollen tit. The boys were trouserless, as she had decreed, and so her hands were able to roam at will over two firm and springy erections thrusting up from their youthful loins. Such bliss!
'Bite harder on my nipple, Giles, don't be afraid. Oh, that's so nice!'
Which one, she pondered, would she have first? Thomas, the younger, was bigger and she longed for the full-up feeling she knew he would give her as he stretched wide her long-neglected cunt. It might be best, however, to let Giles fuck her first and then big Thomas, coming second, would open her further. What a problem for a maiden aunt! Perhaps she'd let them choose, she didn't want to show favouritism.
Minty Hush had her eye on the royal box. The drink Lionel had brought her had not had an effect for a while. And when things began to hot up, clothes began to fly and a flushed Lionel had turned to her expectantly, she had pushed him away.
'Ask her,' she had said, angrily pointing to a buxom nymphet congoing raunchily in the aisle amidst a crunch of groping bodies, 'she's just your type.' To her chagrin Lionel took the rebuff in his stride and now, as Minty was only too aware, he was fucking the nymphet doggie-fashion over a row of seats, his hands juggling the generous pears of her dangling breasts.
It was while watching this display that the urge had hit Minty, like a match flaring in her loins and lighting a fire that now raged unchecked throughout her body. God, she needed a fuck!
But Minty was not someone to throw herself to the mercy of chance, even in the throes of lust she calculated. She had not been to bed with anyone who wasn't worthy of a colour-supplement profile for years and she wasn't about to start now. Which was why she slipped out of the auditorium and crept up the stairs to the royal box.
Her luck was in. The detective assigned to Prince Roger now lay on the lawn outside on top of Lavender Roe, his trousers round his size-fourteen feet.
Minty boldly entered the box and found herself witness to an act of royal buggery. Inez lay across two chairs, her rosy rump thrust upwards to receive Prince Roger's diminutive but willing member in the tight little hole of her anus.
'Good gracious,' he said, 'it's Minty Hush. Where did you spring from?'
'I wondered,' said Minty, seizing her opportunity, 'if I might have a private word with you, sir.'
'You can have anything you like. I'm a great fan of yours, you know. But just at the moment I'm a bit tied up.'
Minty bent her mouth to his ear and whispered, 'I'm surprised you want to put your cock in that particular orifice, sir, you don't know who's been there before you.'
'Eh?'
The Prince stopped pumping.
'We ran an investigation on Inez for the programme, sir, but we didn't dare show it. There's been an army of Spanish playboys up her bum before you.'
'Good Lord.' The royal dick jerked rudely backwards, vacating its cosy home in some haste. Inez cast a bemused look behind her and was obviously surprised to see they were not alone.
'Get lost for a bit, will you, Inez? I've got some things to discuss with Miss Hush.'
Inez opened her mouth to protest but the royal hand fell with a smart slap on her exposed buttocks. It rose again but Inez had got the message and she scampered out of the door cla
d in nothing but her blouse and suspenders, shooting Minty a venomous glance as she did so.
Minty was unfazed. She presented her back to the Prince, her curves tightly delineated in form-hugging satin of canary yellow.
'Perhaps, sir, I can provide a substitute for your attentions.' And she began to pull the material of her dress upwards over the backs of her thighs to her hips, revealing a deliciously curved derriere, whose twin cheeks were flimsily veiled by matching yellow knickers. She bent over to present her bottom to its best advantage, the sheer material stretching taut over the full moons of her buttocks. And as she felt rough fingers tugging the underwear impatiently down her thighs, then delving feverishly between the tender rounds of her cheeks, she thought to herself, 'Scoop!'
Chapter 64
Billy Dazzle watched in amazement as members of the Marian Mucus troupe, this time authentically naked, twirled and pirouetted in the centre of the stage. He compared legs and breasts and pubic muffs - or the absence thereof - while at the same time marvelling at their grace. They flew through the air as light as thistledown, their long legs scissoring open, their little buttocks twinkling, their high small breasts scarcely wobbling on their chests. Two of the girls had shaved their pussies and, though he was a good twenty feet away, he imagined the neat pink valves between their legs opening and shutting with each bound of their buoyant limbs.
A knot of admirers avidly watched the show. Every so often one of the dancers would twirl away from the group and pick herself a man from the crowd to exercise her lithe skills upon. Then she would return to the dance, her thighs glistening with a film of spunk, a satisfied grin upon her face.
'What a remarkable scene, dear boy,' murmured a gravelly voice in Billy's ear. 'It's positively Dionysian, isn't it? We are privileged to be present at one of the great orgies of our age.'
Billy immediately recognised the fruity tones of Peregrine Carstairs, the television arts presenter. His was a name to conjure with, a profile on one of his programmes was a passport to celebrity on the Hampstead dinner-party circuit. Billy, fortunately, had no such ambitions.
'You ought to make a programme about it,' he replied.
'Alas, the forces of repression would rise against us. We'd probably lose the franchise. I am, however, thinking of featuring the Mucus nymphs. They are remarkably talented.'
At precisely that moment, as if to demonstrate his point, the tallest of the dancers beckoned to a trouserless man in the crowd. Ushering her chosen partner to the centre of the stage, she instructed him to lie flat on his back and hold his penis perpendicular to his body. Then, with a skip, a run and a flying leap she did the splits upon the lucky fellow, skewering the head of his impressive member in the moist little notch of her hairless cunt. She sank upon it with the grace of a future prima ballerina, her arms describing a classic arabesque, her large pointed nipples dark smudges in the half-light.
'I see what you mean,' said Billy.
'You are a discerning young man. I've been watching you. You stand aloof from the crowd and observe. However, I wonder if I could persuade you to participate on this memorable occasion? How would you like to suck my thing.'
Billy was suddenly jolted from his envious contemplation of the dancer's undulating buttocks.
'I'm sorry, Perry,' he said. 'Though naturally I'm flattered, your kind of thing is not mine.' And he fled, fast.
Billy was not remaining aloof for any particular reason. He had not abstained from Arnold's punch - far from it - and desire burned in his loins just as furiously as it did in others. However, this was indeed a unique occasion. All around him were luscious women - beautiful, expensive, pampered, exotic women - and, for once, they were stripped of their inhibitions. He could have almost any of them for the asking. So he looked around for one he really wanted.
He found her in a box at stage level which was partly filled with lighting equipment. Imogen sat in the near darkness coolly smoking a cigarette. There was an empty chair beside her and Billy subsided into it.
'I've just been propositioned by Peregrine Carstairs.'
'Poor Perry,' said Imogen, 'he's having a tough time finding a partner tonight. I had half a mind to tell him to try Prince Roger but Minty Hush has jumped the queue.'
'My God, I didn't know the Prince was gay.'
'According to Inez, he's a latent bumboy. Apparently he tried to bugger her so she ran off and left him to Minty.'
'She'll soon straighten him out.' Billy had no doubts on that score. He knew for a fact that Minty Hush was a persuasive performer once she had warmed up.
'I suppose you've come to claim your bonus,' said Imogen, blowing a cloud of smoke in his direction.
'Well...' Faced with her imperturbable stare, Billy was struck by a sudden failure of confidence.
'Get on with it, then,' said Imogen. 'Fuck me if you want to, I won't stop you.'
She took hold of the bodice of her white satin dress and jerked it down to her waist. Her soft ripe breasts spilled out, the long pink tips firm and pointed. She continued to smoke. With her free hand she cupped her left breast and squeezed, pushing the nipple into greater prominence. Billy remembered how she had displayed her breasts for him before.
She smiled. 'You like them, don't you?'
'Yes.'
'I suppose you want to see the rest.' She didn't wait for a reply but reached down and pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist so that the expensive gown lay bunched in a band around her waist. She braced her feet apart on the floor and thrust her pelvis forward. Her legs were long, her nylons were sheer, her thighs were firm. She wore no panties and her cunt was framed by the thin white straps of her suspenders. She ran a hand through her bush, fluffing the hair up and out, teasing it away from the long crack that ran from north to south between her legs.
Billy sat motionless, his eyes focused on those teasing fingers, his heart pounding in his chest.
The half-slumped figure of Imogen slowly finished her cigarette while she played with her pussy for Billy's pleasure. She was excited now, he could see that. Her vaginal juices glistened on her probing fingers. She dropped her cigarette butt and ground it out with her heel.
Both hands were now in her wide-open crotch, one at the top of her split, two fingers splayed downwards in a vee, opening her treasure to his gaze. She plunged the fingers of her other hand into the pretty mouth of her cunt, in and out in an obvious rhythm, her top hand rubbing over the hood of her engorged clitoris.
Billy watched her inviting bosom rise and fall as her breath came harder and faster. He resisted the temptation to reach out and grasp those tempting, trembling mounds of flesh. He was determined to wait until he had seen iceberg Imogen melt completely.
She came in a frenzy, her hand buried almost to the wrist within her, her left forefinger flicking over her clit. Her head tossed from side to side, disturbing her elaborately styled hair which now tumbled down her swan-like neck. Her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open and she made no sound apart from a succession of breathy grunts which were swallowed up in the tumult around them.
Billy waited until she had completely finished and she lay slack and dull-eyed in front of him. Her thighs lolled apart, revealing her wet and puffy pussy lips.
He got to his feet and began to undress.
'Don't take your clothes off,' she said, 'take your cock out.'
'You do it,' he said, stepping close to her, his bulging crotch on a level with her head.
She did as she was told, unzipping him in a trice and prying his whole tackle into the open. One hand was around his shaft, the other cupped his balls. Her eyes sparkled.
'My secret weapon,' she said. 'I'd better show my gratitude.'
She lowered her head and sucked his aching knob into her mouth, running her tongue around the cap. She let it slide from her mouth and licked the length of his shaft to take first one ball, then the other into her mouth.
'Mmm,' she said. 'I think you do deserve your bonus after all.'
Bi
lly fell to his knees between her thighs and held the head of his penis against her enlarged clit, thrilling her sweetest spot.
'For God's sake, put it in!' she hissed.
'You really want me to, Imogen?'
'Yes, I do. I want that big thing in me to the root.'
Billy could not hold back any longer, sliding his swollen member down the length of her split and thrusting it between the lips of her gaping pussy. She twined her legs behind his back, locking her ankles together, whimpering with pleasure as she did so. Her arse was now completely off the seat, giving him free access to fondle and squeeze her firm bum cheeks as he swung his big tool deep into the delicious channel between her legs. Their mouths locked and they kissed hungrily.
It did not last long. The pent-up passion could not be restrained for more than a minute or so. She began to come first, this time in a long sustained moan that rang out through the auditorium, and his groans mingled with hers as the two of them shivered the course of a cataclysmic orgasm.
When it was over she pushed a lock of hair from out of his eye and kissed him tenderly.
'I'm sorry to tell you this, Billy, but you're fired.'
'What do you mean?'
'What I say, that's why I was reluctant to grant you your bonus. You see, I never fuck the help.'
She jostled her loins companionably against him. His cock was still hard within her.
'However, now you're off the payroll, I don't see why we can't socialise.'
'Is that what you call it?' said Billy, grinning now, after all he had only lost a client, not a career.
Her hand was now between their bodies, ringing his cock at the base where it thrust between her pussy lips. 'Come on, private dick, socialise me again...'
Chapter 65