'How do you feel about charity work, Carl, dear?'
It was a strange question to wake up to, especially seeing as Doreen had clearly already had Carl's penis in her mouth while he slept: her lipstick was on it, there was precum on her face and Carl had been having the most sensuous dream in which he was fucking (he didn't know who) but clearly in the real world, it had been Doreen's mouth.
'Erm, I think it's good,' said Carl... referring to the charity work as Doreen licked her lips, licked the end of Carl's hard penis and sat up to look at him.
'Because I have been approached... we have been approached to help at a charity event in aid of a local... oh, I can't remember what, but a local something. It's tonight and I've rented a tuxedo for you to wear.'
It seemed strange to Carl that Doreen should be so keen to help with a charity that she wasn't even familiar with so he assumed it was the event she was interested in rather than the actual charity work. Whatever. Carl did as he was told at all times and if it meant serving at a charity dinner or showing people to their seats, then that was OK with him.
The day passed in its usual way, albeit with an air of excitement emanating from Doreen. She gave Carl his morning milking on the dining room table, collecting his sperm in a jar, then gave him his usual shower, inspecting him for hairs with more than usual thoroughness. But, when it came to his afternoon milking, she just said that they were going to skip it and that Carl should have another shower to make sure he was extra fresh for the dinner.
When he came back from his unsupervised shower, Doreen was sitting on his bed already done up in a long dress, her hair up, more make-up than Carl had ever seen on her and smelling strongly of perfume. She was there to watch as he put on the clothes she had arranged for him. First, there were underpants. Real underpants! Not pouch-panties! Yes, they were small and tight and stretchy and when he put them on you could see every last contour of his semi-erect cock (Carl's cock was always semi-erect if someone was looking at it and, as Doreen was always looking at it, it was pretty much permanently in a state of arousal) but underpants was a real first.
Over the underpants he pulled tuxedo trousers -- again tight enough that you could make out both balls and the shaft and head of his penis in them. Then the shirt, jacket, socks, shoes and finally, the bow tie. Carl had never tied one before so Doreen stood on a little stool and made a fuss of getting it just right.
'You look so handsome!' she said, drinking in the effects of her work. He caught himself in the full-length mirror she always encouraged him to look in but which, in reality, he barely ever used. He had to admit, he looked alright. Especially when she brushed some sort of goop through his hair so it sat down in a way that looked old-fashioned but quite cool.
A taxi arrived, they climbed in, Doreen -- as usual -- kept her hand proprietorially on Carl's thigh, high on Carl's thigh so that his penis was already twitching in the tuxedo trousers. But then that really was the purpose of the hand...
The event was seriously sophisticated and held in the local Masonic Hall, where Carl had never been before. A lady at a lectern greeted them at the door, checked a list and said, 'Oh, you're very welcome...' with a bit of a leer to Doreen, while giving the extra-handsome Carl the once over. She then waved them towards an area where people were standing with glasses of champagne.
Carl had never drunk anything in Doreen's company before -- barely in his life before -- but she took a glass of champagne from a tray that was being circulated by a waitress and handed it to him. Shouldn't he have been passing around these trays? He thought he was supposed to be working this party. As they stood drinking, or sipping, people came over and said hello to Doreen and thanked her for her kind contribution - which she waved away modestly - all the while looking Carl up and down. Strange, thought Carl, that she should have given money to a charity when she couldn't remember what it was. And strange that so many of the people here were women.
There were a few men dotted around the room but the majority were women of various ages -- from around Carl's age, 19, to older women more Doreen's age -- all done up in sparkly dresses, elaborate hairstyles, evening make-up. And, Carl supposed, seeing as there were so many women and so few men, that would explain why he was getting so much attention. And maybe the reason some of the attention was physical, as in touching: his arm, the base of his back, his buttocks... one older woman, while talking to Doreen, even smoothed her hand across his fairly obvious bulge, which Doreen allowed.
Sophie, Doreen's friend from the notorious coffee morning, the woman who ran the life-drawing class that Carl had posed at, came over to say hello and introduce the only other man Carl's age at the whole event.
'This must be Kevin,' said Doreen, appraising the young man, who was tall but not as tall as Carl, well-built going by the breadth of his shoulders and dark where Carl was fair. His hair was slicked back like Carl's but was almost black as were his eyebrows while his eyes were so dark it was difficult to tell whether he was looking at you or not.
'Oh, very nice, Sophie,' she said, her eyes still running up and down Kevin. 'He's your neighbour, isn't that right?' Sophie nodded. 'And I hear that you've already had a few adventures together, Kevin...' Kevin blushed and nodded, avoiding Carl's gaze. The moment was embarrassing for the young men, both of whom hung their heads. Looking down, Carl couldn't help but notice that, like his own, Kevin's trousers were almost skin-tight so you could see all the details of their contents.
After a few minutes of this -- Doreen and Sophie small-talked excitedly, Carl and Kevin stayed silent and smiled -- a little gong was sounded and people started to drift in to a huge room laid out with round tables.
'Well, we will see you later, Sophie. Kevin,' said Doreen, putting on airs, Carl thought. The boys nodded at each other and each taking the arm of the older woman they were escorting, moved into the dining room. At the entrance was a board with a map of the tables and names on and Doreen quickly worked out that they were on one of the front tables, right near the stage. She must have donated a fortune, thought Carl.
Taking their seats, Carl noticed that on the next table, equally close to the stage were Sophie and Kevin. And like Carl's table, that table had only one man, which was Kevin. The women all took a keen interest in Carl and, he could see when he glanced over, in Kevin. 'You look so handsome in your tux!' 'Have you been to a formal dinner like this before?' 'How long have you known Doreen?' 'How did you meet?'
A lot of these questions were fielded by Doreen who spoke of Carl with great pride, occasionally looking at him and rearranging an imaginary hair or brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. It was her way of showing ownership, Carl realised by now.
The waitresses arrived carrying bottles of red and white wine. 'Have a little white, dear,' said Doreen, noticing that Carl was wondering if he was allowed. The waitress poured, looking at him rather than the wine, which disconcerted him. Then more waitresses came out with plates containing the starter, some sort of pâté served with a triangular piece of toast.
While Carl was still eating, the woman from the lectern on the way in came over and whispered something to Doreen, then went over and had a similar exchange with Sophie. 'Carl, dear, they're ready for you backstage now,' said Doreen.
