Weekend orgy

CHAPTER FIVE

They all sat nervously, huddled within themselves and their own thoughts, in corners of the high-beamed room. The Count, obviously, had a great deal of money. The room, and what they had seen of the rest of the house, was well-appointed, with antique, valuable furniture and signed oils adorning the walls of every room.

It was a strange assembly, with all of them knowing, or guessing, what they were there for, but none of them making open advances. Now and then someone would flick a glance at another person across the room, only to have that person raise their eyes. Both sets of eyes would then be quickly averted to ceiling or floor out of a strange sense of embarrassment.

Allison Dare sat in a huge chair by the fireplace. Its back and arms were so high that it seemed to encompass and dwarf her petite blonde figure. She smoked one cigarette after another and huddled in the chair as though it were some kind of security blanket that would protect her from the staring eyes of the others in the room.

She didn't know why, but she wished she had been more careful about the clothing she had chosen to wear. The dress was skin tight, so tight that it was impossible to wear any underwear. Fully half of her huge tits bunched together and blossomed outward in clear view from the extremely low cut. As usual, her nipples were hard and their hugeness was clearly defined in the taut material.

The dress was also very tight across her front. The flat V of her belly was clearly defined when she stood, as was the thick patch of pussy hair that pushed the dress outward in a provocative mound between her protruding hip bones.

Normally, that sort of dress would be perfect. It would spell out, to everyone around her, that she was ready and willing to fuck. But, now, here in this room, with all these other beautiful people, dressed the same way, she somehow felt strange and a little afraid.

Gray Hendricks didn't miss Allison's nervousness or the way she looked. He sat in a sofa directly across from her, with his legs tightly crossed to conceal the huge hard-on that looking at her tits had caused in his pants.

Usually when Gray was around a girl that beautiful, with that kind of body for more than five minutes, he would have at least propositioned her. So far he had done little more than look at her, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

Neither could Mark Lester. He would have loved to stroll across the room, slide his hand into the front of the blonde's dress and whisper in her ear, "I'd love to stick my fourteen-inch cock up your cunt while my wife sits oh my face."

But he didn't. And even though Lori felt the same way about Gray Hendricks, sucking him off while Mark poured his cock up her cunt, she couldn't bring herself to start the ball rolling. It had been so long since either one of them had fucked anyone that hadn't been directed to fuck them that neither one of them could remember how to prompt normal sex with another person.

Daphne was there only because Claire had insisted on coming. She wasn't about to let her lover out of her sight with this kind of a crowd. Daphne truly loved sex, but ever since her divorce, she had been afraid to have it with anyone other than Claire. Her doctor had told her it was guilt. She didn't believe him. She called it love, love for Claire even though she hated the redhead most of the time.

Claire was also afraid but, at the same time, she was like a child running wild in a candy store. All these beautiful bodies. She couldn't decide which one she wanted first. The blonde girl in the chair had beautiful tits and her cunt, through the tight material of her dress, pooched provocatively. Claire imagined spooning juices from it with her tongue. She had also noticed the long length of meaty hose running down Mark Lester's inner thigh. Her cunt had started dripping the second she had realized that his cock was soft; my God, she thought, what would it be like hard?

But why, she wondered, hadn't any one of them made some kind of an advance to her? She couldn't very well just go up and ask them if they wanted to fuck. It wasn't ladylike and, after all, it just wasn't done.

"Good evening."

All heads turned towards the doorway. He stood, like an image from the middle of the sixteenth century, calm, cool, cosmopolitan and beautiful. His dress was impeccable from the silk cravat at his throat to the highly polished slippers on his feet. Between was a maroon smoking jacket and a pair of tailored gray trousers with a crease that could slice a finger.

He strolled into the center of the room with catlike grace, his weight, like an athlete's, on the balls of his feet. In his left hand he held an expensive, gold cigarette holder, in his right, a glass of wine, which he sipped while he talked. His voice was low, sensual, and seemed to flow from his throat in a lulling, hypnotic way.

"For those of you who don't already know me, I am your host, Count Domino LeBarron. For the remainder of the weekend, and indeed for as long as we are acquainted, I do hope that can be shortened to 'Dom'."

"Now, I'm sure all of you have a semblance of an idea what our little weekend will be like. Usually my wife, the Countess Donea, would aid me in this little introduction speech, but at the moment she is highly indisposed. She tried to fuck one of the ponies in the stable last night and the beast broke his harness and almost killed the poor girl. She's upstairs soaking the results right now."

There was general nervous laughter following this piece of news, but still no one bothered to check anyone else's real reaction. The Count refilled his glass and continued.

"You all have several things in common. That's why you were asked here this weekend. Among these things are physical beauty far above the ordinary, and a need for sex, equally above the ordinary. Sex, my friends, whether you want to admit it or not, is what you, along with myself, worship above all else. And why not? Since the beginning of time, men and women have strived for sex, killed for it, and died for it. It is the basic human drive and is sublimated to the other basic drives only because society dictates it be so."

"This weekend, I not only plan to show you the ignorance of society, but also the way to profit from that ignorance… as a matter of fact, a great deal of profit."

"To be perfectly frank, we are, all of us in this room, probably neurotic and perverted in a sense. At the same time, all of you are a little fearful of that perversion, even though it's what you really live for. That is why the incredible orgy you are about to experience will relieve your worries and frustrations and allow you to return to your lives in a better and, as I mentioned, more profitable frame of mind."

"Being with, and reacting to, other aimless souls, like yourself, tends to strengthen your life… give it meaning and purpose. You have all indulged in every conceivable sexual act, but never felt at ease doing it without having a gun pointed at your head, so to speak."

"After this weekend, you will be able to not only taste erotica, but live it. In the past you have all considered your strange sexual drives a problem. Most of you have consulted psychiatrists about your 'problem'… and, in all cases, to no avail."

"This is normal. No one is brought up to think this way; our moral codes definitely condemn flagrant and perverted use of sex. The church, the schools, the parents for the most all preach and teach only 'normal' sex. Anything deviating from the norms is dirty and the doer should be punished… but how many practice what they preach? How many are pure? How many go to church on Sunday and sin the rest of the week? I don't know the answer, but I'm sure the percentage of the righteous is very small."

"I propose to show you, this weekend, that you are actually very normal. When you leave here, you will leave as normal, well-adjusted people with not only no fear of sex, but also with the open love and admiration for it that brings you from the bottom of the rest of the society to the very top."

Here the Count paused, letting the silence, add emphasis to his words. He looked around the room, smiling. It was obvious that all of them had questions. But no one spoke. They did, however, start to examine one another, although strangely.

"And now we come to the catch, so to speak," the Count continued, "which is really no catch at all."

"I thought we'd get around to it," murmured Gray Hendricks. "I'll bet it's something to do with profit."

"Correct, Mr. Hendricks. I applaud you for speaking out. Congratulations. But before I explain, I must mention the one other thing all of you have in common. Each of you…" Here he stopped and once again let his eye roam the room, pausing as he looked deeply into each of their souls. "Each of you currently indulges in the use of sex for your livelihood, and each of you hates it. I propose to do away with that hate."

Here his voice dropped an octave and became very stem, commanding, almost accusing.

"Miss Allison Dare, you are a prostitute, plying your trade from a luxury, East Side Manhattan apartment. Yet you feel so guilty about it that for each man you collect a fee from, you search out another and perform for free. Stupid, Miss Dare, frightfully stupid."

The blush started at her hairline and went clear down to the ample cleavage at the front of her dress.

"But you're not alone, Miss Dare," he continued. "Gray Hendricks, you search out old women, married, widowed, or divorced, and do menial labor for them as a livelihood, when your real livelihood lies in your pants. You perform a sexual service for them for a few presents which you later hock so you can indulge in your favorite pastime, being a burn. Your problem, Mr. Hendricks, is that you sell yourself too short, because you feel guilty about your trade. You take money for fucking women you detest so you can fuck younger, more beautiful women for free. You should be making a profit from both of them. As a gigolo, you are a terrible failure, Mr. Hendricks."

"Don't smile, Mark Lester, your case is even worse. You make a pittance for what you do, as does your wife. I know people in Europe who would gladly donate two thousand dollars an evening to your favorite charity if you and your wife would merely attend one of their parties. Needless to say, the favorite charity begins at home. Anyone wasting a fourteen-inch cock on the general public should be ashamed."

This revelation brought a sudden, new surge of interest in Mark Lester by everyone else in the room, particularly the women.

Lori Lester smiled. "I've been telling him that for years."

"And then we come to you, Claire Laurenz. Tall, a red-haired angel with the body of a movie star, the exotic beauty of a queen, and the desires of an alley cat. And rather than feed those desires, you put on cheap little shows for even cheaper men who, in actuality, would be afraid to have sex with you under what they would consider normal conditions. Have you ever wondered why you are subject to arrest for your little shows, when the men who view and pay for them are not? I'm sure Miss Dare has often wondered. It's because the men she serviced for money only buy her once a week. The other failing in its upright members condones that kind of failing in its, upright members. You, Claire Laurenz, are temptation, and temptation must be erased because it might win."

"And now, Miss Daphne Lewis. You are so afraid of sex that you have given it up. When you divorced your husband, you thought you were doing it to be free. Instead, you have become a slave. A slave of the very morals you tried to escape from. And now, Miss Laurenz has become nothing more than the replacement for the husband you left behind."

"You, Daphne Lewis, are the one person who shouldn't be here. But your presence will serve a good purpose. As the weekend progresses, you will be our symbol of society."

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I leave you alone to become better acquainted among yourselves, in any way you so desire. Dinner is in two hours."

He set his glass on an end table by the door, and walked out of the room.

There was a general hubbub of curious conversation in the room after his exit.

"Claire… Claire," Daphne whispered. "Let's pack… let's leave here now."

"Why?" Claire replied, her eyes growing strangely misty.

"Because it's an evil place, I can feel it. That man is evil."

"Evil, shit. He makes a lot of sense to me."

"Claire… where are you going?"

The redhead smiled broadly. "I'm going to measure that fourteen inches."

Gray Hendricks was the only one in the room who had thought ahead and realized that whatever the Count's "catch" was, it had not been fully explained. He supposed that they would all find that out at dinner. In the meantime, he planned on putting some of the hospitality to the test. He crossed the gap between himself and Allison Dare and sat on the arm of her chair.

"Allison, is it?" he said.

"Yes," she replied, looking straight into his eyes.

"Gray… Would you like to fuck?"

The grin spread clear across her face. "Your room or mine?"

Lori Lester understood most of what the Count had told them, but she was curious about his inference to the beautiful blonde, Daphne. She studied the woman for a few moments and then thought she knew. She walked over and stood directly in front of her.

"You're gay, aren't you?" Lori asked. "I mean not just bi… you're really a hard-core dyke."

"You're crazy," said Daphne. "Of course I'm not any such thing."

"I think you are," Lori insisted.

"I'm not," Daphne replied, refusing to let her eyes move up and down the girl's beautiful body. "And I'll thank you to please leave me alone."

"You're not, huh?" Lori said. "Then I don't suppose you'd want a taste of this."

Lori pulled her skirt clear up to her waist. The red hair on Lori's cunt was very thick and much darker than Claire's. The girl's pussy aroma wafted from between her legs and filled Daphne's nostrils.

She closed her eyes. The scent became stronger. Then the pussy hair was tickling her lips.

Domino could hear her splashing in the bath as entered their rooms on the very top floor of the house.

"How did it go?" she called.

"Fine," he replied. "As a matter of fact, very good." He started removing his clothes to change for dinner.

"It's going to be a wonderful weekend," Donea said. "I can't wait to try that boy, Mark. Did I tell you I saw one of those awful films he does? It was silly, but just the sight of his fucking everything in sight was worth it."

"His wife, Lori, is also a gem," the Count called back, and shed the last of his clothing. He stood naked in front of the mirror. He had a hard-on just thinking of all the pussy he would fuck over the coming weekend.

"Did you tell them everything?" she said.

"Everything but the gimmick. I saved that for dinner."

"Do you think they'll agree?"

"No. Daphne Lewis will never agree," he said, moving towards the bathroom. "At least, I don't think so."

She looked up, directly into the eye of his throbbing cock, as he entered the room.

"How's your pussy?"

"Sore," she replied, starting to rise from the tub.

"Sit down," he said. "I'm getting in with you."

Her butt touched the enamel bottom again and her body relaxed.

The Count had enjoyed many women and he would enjoy many more, but none of tern could excite him like his own wife. Often they would be at a party and he would see her across the room. His cock would spring to the ready position and they would have to retire to one of their hosts' bedrooms to satisfy the instant craving they had for each other.

He gazed down into the tub, filling his eyes with the inviting panorama.

Her tits were large, jutting melons capped by reddish-brown tips. Her hips were broad and meaty. Beneath a flat stomach, in the V, was situated a cunt so covered in black, bushy hair that he couldn't see the gash.

Her lush torso was a treat. He enjoyed slim, small-titted women on occasion, but he really was a man who liked his women to be more richly endowed.

He stepped into the tub. Her face was expressionless, a total blank. She gazed at the wall, instead of acknowledging his presence in the water.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look like you really don't want me."

Her eyes traveled from the wall to his waist, then down to his erect meat.

Licentious craving destroyed the blankness.

"Nothing's the matter," she said. "To be honest, I don't want to seem too eager, that's all."

The water level rose as he crouched between her spread legs. It covered her tits, rising to her chin.

"You're drowning me," she laughed. "Imagine going to a watery grave in a bathtub!"

He chuckled and jerked the plug put. He waited till the water receded to a level below her nipples, then he pushed the plug back in.

"How's that?"

"Better."

"Good. Now tell me… how's this?"

Leaning forward, he clamped his hands on her bountiful tits.

"Mmmmm… better still! Kiss me, play with my tits, and make love to me."

His lips crushed hers in a searing kiss. His hands fondled the wet boobs, tweaking and tuning the long, rubbery buds.

His cock was submerged in the warm water. The heat made his balls tingle, and his meat began throbbing, the blue veins sticking out more than they usually did.

She brought a knee up, then rubbed it against his balls. White hot flares raked his body. She lowered her knee after a while, and he dived onto her tits, intent on sucking the fiery tips that his hands had prompted to stiffen.

"Go to it, love," she urged. "Suck my babies. Pretend they're candy. Suck!"

His lips nudged a delicate bud, then drew it inside. He sucked with vigor, and it quivered excitedly. He took the other nipple into his mouth and achieved the same result. She adored what he was doing. She thrashed about merrily, splashing his body. For her sake, and his own, he sucked her tits for some time, going from one reddish-brown tip to the other.

"Yes! Oh, yes! So nice! Suck my candies. Suck 'em real good!"

Her cries became louder and louder. He ceased his actions. His lips returned to hem. Her mouth was hot, and her face was flushed. As he kissed her, he shifted his lower body and tried to lodge his cock in her cunt. He was more successful than he hoped he'd be, and his cock went through her dense pussy bush and straight into her hole on the initial lunge.

"Ahhhhhhh!" she shrieked.

Then a low, contented groan replaced the frantic shrieks that had previously fled from her lips.

He launched a jarring, full-speed-ahead attack. The warm water seemed to add an extra dimension to his fun. Somehow, it made him feel more sensual, particularly when he began humping faster and faster.

She arched her back and circled him with her arms. Their bodies seemed molded together. There was scarcely an inch between them… sufficient space only for the swirling water to jump up the front of them and lap at her swollen tits.

She began working her hips, matching his thrusts. The pace he'd established was a frenzied one, and they were both pounding and writhing against each other under the water.

As they fucked, grunting and gasping for air, her head thumped hard on the enamel, and stars blurred her vision. Yet she didn't complain, she merely blinked and groaned and carried on fucking without breaking stride.

"Now! Now! Now!" she cried, her desperate scream echoing off the walls.

He knew what she wanted. He knew, because he was sharing the experience with her. She was straining, reaching for her orgasm.

Galloping madly, he strained and strained, then he touched it. Ecstasy was his for the taking. She clung to him.

He gave her a final handful of short, deep strokes. Then, his cock drained and satisfied, be pulled out of her cunt.

"We fucked so hard, we splashed the whole bathroom!" she said, grinning. "What do you suppose everyone else is doing?"

"Fucking, I hope," he replied, smiling. "Maybe even in a bathtub!"