Lady Fitzwilliam 10. Summer of Lust

What an exquisite summer we have passed together here in London and I must own that it is all the masterwork of the most excellent Bentley, who has arranged matters and amusements the like of which I had never dreamed. To think I once dreaded coming to town for the season and its tiresome dinners and fusty balls among the most deadly people in town. Now, all is transformed, not only with the events and adventures he has organised and the people we have met but even within my own household.

Following the game we had played for the Duchess's amusement, where I tried to guess the owner of my young men's penises as they entered me, I sampled the rest of the boys, much to my -- and their! -- delight. In fact, now that they have all happily spilled seed in my sex, it seems that they have become greedy for the experience.

They communicate their desire -- and it is a near constant desire with them being so young -- by entering my presence with an obvious erection in their special breeches but saying nothing. If I am interested, and I own I am almost always interested, I caress them and, often in the presence of Bentley, we end in congress. Sometimes we adopt the position I took when delighting the Duchess, leaning over the back of my chaise while they enter me from behind and I fondle their testicles between my legs. But I must admit, I am fonder of a position where I am facing these beautiful young men, so I can see the desire in their faces as they plough my sex and enjoy the sight of their muscular bodies as they smash their hard bellies into my much softer one.

We even have a new recruit, again, thanks to Bentley. It was this time last week that a most delightful young man appeared at the window of my salon, cleaning the glass. He did not notice me within the room, or he never would have persisted in his employment, which afforded me the leisure of drinking in the sight of this beauty. Tall and dark with a rougher appearance than the young men of my household, his shirt was open, revealing a rather hairy chest while his breeches seemed to contain a great promise.

I rang for Bentley and indicated the young man at the window. He read from my expression that there was an interest and left the room. Within ten minutes, the young man was brought in to me, slightly tidied but still in the disarray of a working man. 'My Lady would like to question you about the cleaning of the interiors of these windows,' said Bentley, with a sly smile to myself.

'Yes, My Lady,' said the lad, who I guessed to be in his early 20s. He went to the window and leaning up revealed a sliver of bronzed flesh around his waist and the top of rounded buttocks in breeches that were slipping. Bentley noticed my greedy eyes devouring this sight and smiled at me.

'I would need to bring a different ladder, My Lady,' said the lad, probably wondering at the interest the Lady of the house was taking in the humdrum subject of windows being cleaned. 'Unless, sir, you have ladders in the house that I could use.'

'I'm sure that we do,' said Bentley to the lad. 'But we have a... tradition in this house that you would need to observe before we could engage you in this work, which would pay handsomely and probably take much of your time, as it is a large house with many windows.'

The boy looked back at him bemused, wondering what could be the tradition that was a condition of this bounty of employment. 'My Lady likes to inspect any young man working in her household... At close quarters.'

The poor lad still looked uncomprehending and so Bentley helped him. 'Remove your shirt, boy,' he said. The boy touched his shirt and looked at Bentley as if to say, 'This?' Bentley nodded. Without any sense of anxiety, the young man lifted the shirt over his head until he was standing before me, slightly besmirched by his work, his hairy chest and hairy belly glistening with sweat.

I approached him and, reaching out my hand, stroked the hair on his chest and on his belly then turned him about so I could take in the sight of his muscular back then turned him back to me. I looked at him in his handsome face and detected there a slight smile. He was not offended by this treatment but was instead rather amused by it. And seeing this reaction, I wasted little time in reaching for his breeches and undoing the buttons of his flap while holding his gaze. The breeches dropped to the floor so he was standing in unattractive voluminous undergarments.

'Step out of your breeches, young man,' I commanded. He did as I requested so he was standing before me in scuffed shoes, yellowing stockings and the ugliest undergarments I had ever seen. 'I'm afraid we will have to dispense of these,' I said, untying the lace that secured the undergarments so that they, too, fell to the ground and the lad was standing before me naked apart from his stockings and shoes.

I took a seat and gazed at the sight of this handsome man, the dark hair that covered his chest and belly and proliferated as my gaze travelled down. Standing semi-erect from a thick bush of hair was a penis that was dark in colour, half covered by foreskin, decorated with the lightest veins and slightly curved upwards. It had a cheerful appearance, somehow.

'Approach me, boy,' I commanded as Bentley looked on and I observed the quizzical expression on the young man's face as he walked naked towards me, wondering what a woman of three score and more years could want from a young working man. He took a position before me, his penis mere inches from my face. I could smell his sweat, his musk. I pressed my face to the thick dark bush and inhaled his odour, the proximity of my face to his penis causing it to rise before me. I looked up. He was smiling a confused smile and slightly shaking his head at the sight of a woman old enough to be his grandmother with his penis on her face.

I smiled back, opened my mouth and took the head of his penis inside it. He groaned and, not being in my direct employ, acted naturally and took the back of my head firmly in his hands. Controlling my head, he started to move his hips so that his penis was dipping deeper into my mouth, into my throat. It was a delicious feeling of powerlessness to me and clearly a delicious feeling to him as he moaned and thrusted into my mouth, deeper and deeper.

My eyes were streaming at the depth of his thrusts and I saw through my tears the concerned face of Bentley, wondering if he should intervene but then he noticed my hands squeezing the lad's buttocks and no doubt heard my own moans. Then, almost without warning, the young man pulled back his hips, removed his penis from my mouth and without permission shot ropes of thick white sperm onto my face, onto my chest and my hair, smiling as each spurt hit me and, when he had finished and was shamelessly squeezing the last drops onto my dress as I tasted that seed that had run towards my mouth, laughed openly.

As he recovered, Bentley stepped forward. 'It's customary to inform a lady -- especially a lady of quality -- when you are about to release upon her,' he said severely.

'I suppose it is,' said the lad, 'but I couldn't resist seeing the look on My Lady's face as my muck hit her. Sorry to offend. But it was quite a sight.'

'No matter,' said I, licking still the sperm from around my mouth. And then to Bentley, 'I like this young man...' Then to the young man: 'Your name, boy?'

'Boy?' he laughed, showing extraordinarily white teeth. 'My name is Thomas, My Lady. Never Tom. Only Thomas.'

'Well, Thomas, never Tom, only Thomas, Mr. Bentley here is going to take you to the kitchen, pay you for my windows, give you something to eat and discuss your joining my household. Do I make myself clear?'

'Oh, yes, My Lady.' And he gave a mocking bow, bent to pick up his clothes and walked out, affording me a sight of his naked buttocks with my claw marks in them.

So, Thomas is one thing I have to thank Bentley for this summer but there is so much more. His schedule of activities afforded me many hours of delight, such as the evening he masterminded a night at the opera with the young Lord Duneaton and his mother. Lord Duneaton, you will recall, is the 19-year-old neighbour from Heaton, whose penis I had been devouring back in the country while his mother was under the illusion that we were planning an advantageous marriage for him.

He let me know of his presence in London for the season but my diary was so full of engagements, mostly consisting of the enjoyment of naked you men, that I had actually found it difficult to include him in my plans. Bentley, however, found an opportunity to reconnect when the young Lord's mother was also in town and arranged a box for us to enjoy a performance at the opera in each other's company. Of course, as we watched the stage -- well, in my and Lord Duneaton's case, feigned watching the stage -- I removed the Lord's exquisite penis from his breeches and, under the amused eye of Bentley, who was standing in the box to furnish us with any beverage or tit-bit we should require, began to manipulate it... with the Lord's mother right by my side.

By blocking her view with my body and lending her my opera glasses in order to engross her further in the performance, I tormented His Lordship by rubbing his own precum over the head of his penis in such a way as to make him wriggle and bite his lips to supress his moans. At one point, his mother reprimanded him over her shoulder, telling him to desist from fidgeting, just as the sperm from his penis was flowing onto my hand. Such delicious perversity to have the mother sitting right there, thinking our closeness was going to lead to a rich marriage for her boy, while I was extracting his sperm and -- delicious again -- tasting it.

Another of my favourite summer adventures was a lunch for ladies at the house of one Marquess of Delaney, a woman so aged she moves either in a chair with wheels or on the arms of two of her young men, all exceeding tall and well built. The theme behind the lunch was that all of the serving boys would be entirely naked for our enjoyment.

We ladies, ten of us in total, were received in the most charming salon, where little glasses of sherry were awaiting us, only the Marquess's fully-dressed butler having been our contact. Then at the ringing of a bell, doors were opened and along the corridor were twelve or so young men on either side on plinths like statues, with bags over their heads to enjoy them complete anonymity. We moved into the corridor, the Marquess at our head and, as we passed the young men, were encouraged to fondle, taste or indeed suck them.

It was clear that the idea of the plinths was to suggest statuary, only these monuments to masculinity were warm and responsive to the touch. It also meant that the young men's penises were at eye level for most of us, maximising our enjoyment on the male beauty on display but meaning also that the frail Marquess and some of the other more elderly ladies of our company had not to bend to enjoy the young men as they passed through the tunnel of lovelies.

Once inside the dining room, a place of splendour, all gilded and loaded with exotic flowers, the theme of statuary was continued as, once we were seated along the table, we became aware that what appeared to be large marble statues along the table's centre were in fact tableaux of young men dusted in powdered sugar to give their skin the lustre of stone. At given minutes through the dinner, at the sound of a bell, the young men would rearrange themselves into different classical poses so that we ladies may enjoy again the sight of their beautiful bodies from different angles.

All this while, our food and wine was served by young men, naked but for the ribbons in their hair, which meant that as they poured or spooned food onto our plates, we could explore their buttocks, their testicles, their penises, which, with all this fondling, were almost permanently erect. And the Marquess being of clearly exotic tastes, the meal ended with the young men on the table performing sexual acts on each other, which was a novelty to me. While they performed oral and anal penetrations on each other, we were free to explore their bodies, feeling penises as they entered anuses or partaking in the sucking of a young man, kissing his companion as we shared the member. It all finished with a licking off of the sugar that covered the young men's bodies after which we were invited to select a young man to enter us. Such a delightful afternoon after which I could not wait to return to Bentley to recount my adventures.

Our own contribution to the summer's enjoyment again came from an idea of Bentley's. As the gardens to my London home are fairly secluded, he devised an afternoon of sports between teams formed of each of our households. There were seven households in total including the Duchess's, the Marquess's, the Lady Squire's, the Comtess of Alba's as well as three others belonging to women I had met over the summer, some at the Marquess's lunch. All households were to field three young men meaning a total of one and twenty. The idea of my garden full of that number of athletic naked young men was so exciting to me that I was all anticipation.

On the day of the event, the weather was warm, sultry even, and my own household was abuzz with activity in readiness for the onslaught. By lunchtime all six ladies had joined me for a light buffet overseen by Bentley, who seemed to be in three places all at once, readying the garden, receiving my guests and managing activity throughout the house. I told him that we were quite able to avail ourselves of drinks and victuals so as to leave everyone else to focus on the upcoming event.

When the time came, Bentley arrived to escort us to the rear terrace in readiness for our sport and we were indeed a merry group, holding each other's arms, exchanging observations and clearly excited about the upcoming display. Once seated on the terrace -- and thank heavens it is a large one! -- the first three young men were brought out in gowns for our inspection. With a great sense of theatricality, Bentley oversaw the disrobing of the first, one of the Duchess's beauties, his gown unfastened so it slipped easily to the floor.

As with the maids on the occasion of the Duchess's party, it was deemed that preparations should be done by a lady other than the mistress of the young man in question, in this case a pale blond with huge arms and a penis that showed great promise. As I was the hostess, I was to go first and held out my cupped hands for Bentley to pour scented oil into. Rubbing my hands first together, I then stood to apply the oil to the young man's arms, shoulders, back, buttocks then, crouching to his legs and finally his penis, which by this time was straining towards me.

'How delightful!' said the Marquess to the Duchess. 'You have exquisite taste in young men, my dear. You must allow me to borrow this one for one of my statues.'

'Of course, Marquess,' replied the Duchess in full hearing of the young man. 'Though I am not sure if he would be appropriate for your after-dinner display. He is a country boy and I fear his proclivities do not extend to being sodomised.'

'You would be surprised, Duchess,' rejoindered the Marquess. 'In my experience, the young men that seem the most unlikely turn out to be those that take to the practice with the most alacrity.' And they laughed as the boy, now shiny with the oil I had lavished on him, burned red.

And so we went on. Now the demonstration had been made, the young men were brought out in batches of seven for us to oil to our satisfaction. I espied Sarah peering out of a window at this and could read the look of envy on her face, this being her favourite pastime, the preparing of the young men.

When all of the contestants were oiled and ready, they were lined up on the terrace and we ladies walked along the line inspecting them. Some were bashful, some were brazen, some were erect, others seemed to be shrinking under the pressure of our gaze. All were beauties and I was satisfied that we were about to spend an exciting afternoon. And so we were.

The first event was Grecian wrestling, with pairs of young men writhing on the marble in front of us, displaying their slippery oiled bodies to great effect so we could enjoy every inch of them as we clapped their efforts. The next event was running and we stood at the balustrade of the terrace and watched as five young man ran naked around the garden, trying to outdo each other as there were prizes for the winners. How delightful to watch those beautiful bodies, the penises flopping from side to side, as they raced.

Next was a test of strength where four young men stood in turn in front of us, facing away across the garden, as they lifted bars with weights at either end, facing away so that we could admire the strength in their legs and backs and also catch glimpses of their holes and their testicles between their legs as they crouched to grip the weights and lift them above their heads.

Then there was a display of acrobatics with three of the most talented young men jumping from feet to hands and back again and balancing on each other's shoulders, a feat that was precarious as their skin was so slick with the oil we had lavished them with. And finally all the contenders were to stand on their hands against the balustrade, quite upside-down, while we ladies walked along the line tickling them, licking testicles, grabbing buttocks, anything to make them lose their balance and bring their feet back to the ground.

At the end of the contest five young men -- including my own Erikson -- were brought forward to be garlanded with golden laurels as champions. Then each of we ladies selected one of the young men -- the Duchess of course chose Smythe, the Marquess chose the Duchess's blond young man, the Comtesse chose Thomas 'not Tom', whose penis I had already ridden following his employment -- and were given access to their bodies to amuse themselves as they would. Everyone started by fondling and sucking and most finished by riding the penises of these beautiful young athletes.

For myself, I chose one of the newcomers' young men, an entirely hairless boy of about 19 with buttocks of steel and a penis traced through with veins and with a half-foreskin masking the tip as if in modesty. I had been attracted to him by his hairlessness and by the prominence of his perineum -- the part between his testicles and anus -- when hand-standing, as that part of the body has always held a fascination for me. I am delighted by the line that runs along the underside of a man's penis, across the centre of his scrotum and then along the perineum to the anus. I cannot see that magical seam without wishing to put my tongue upon it.

With this young lad, I availed myself of that line by having him stand against the balustrade facing away from me, before taking my seat and sucking his penis alongside the Duchess, who was eating the hole of Smythe. I finished by sitting astride him, the oil on his skin making for a sensuous slidiness and a ruination for my best muslin as Bentley watched on, an obvious bulge in his breeches as he enjoyed the sight of this young man's member disappearing into my sex. I eventually commanded him to empty his sperm inside my sex so I could enjoy the sensation of it dribbling out later out while I happened to notice the Duchess lead Smythe away to a corner of my main salon where she drank urine direct from his penis. I am not averse to anyone's predilections, so I salute her and she was certainly in excellent spirits as she led Smythe back to the company. All in all, an excellent day's sport for all.

And speaking of Smythe and the fascination he exercised over the Duchess, I have yet to recount perhaps the most exciting event of the summer, the exchange. You will remember that the Duchess's ardour for young Smythe was such that she struck a deal by which she would spend four-and-twenty hours in the young man's company while I should choose one of her young men in exchange. But she did not expect that I would forego the beauties that had been displayed to us at the party she had hosted and choose instead her butler. But that being the deal, she relented so as to get her hands -- and other body parts -- on the lovely young Smythe.