Lady Fitzwilliam 5. the Visit

There was a particular air of excitement at Heaton at the prospect of a visit. As lady of the house, I had obviously received many visitors, both for lunches and dinners and balls and also that tiresome habit families with more money than employment have of encumbering one with themselves for weeks - even months! - at a time. With the exception of a handful of cases - usually where the sons of the family were young and handsome -- these extended visits were frequently burdensome affairs. But this was just a tea even if it was my first outing as a hostess in my own right since the demise of his lordship.

Bentley arrived at my chamber himself on the morning of the visit, drew back my curtains and presented me with a cup of chocolate. He also stood by my bed discussing details of the visit while I openly appraised details of his penis, which looked uncommon fine in the new-style breeches because the ridge of his helmet was beautifully pronounced meaning I could make out the exact shape of his manhood at just a glance. Not that I would have any trouble in securing its removal from the breeches at any time but there were moments when the view of it cosy at home was all I needed to provoke the now familiar flutter in my sex.

'The young men are all prepared, my lady,' he said as I gazed at that prize. 'But I wondered if my lady would like to take this occasion in order to examine her entire staff at her leisure...'

'Bentley?' I was not sure I understood his meaning.

'My lady, I was thinking a line-up of the young men for your intimate perusal might be a fitting start to such an auspicious day. I also think a de-spunking might be appropriate seeing as there are going to be distractions for the young men today. And I fear even the facilities of the Masturbatorium would be over-subscribed if we were to divest all these young men of their sperm.'

Ah, yes. Distractions. The family coming was the dowager of the next village, a woman of some five and fifty, handsome in appearance, haughty in temperament, a woman I hoped to bring down a peg during her visit. Accompanying her was a daughter of some twenty years or so, having come to her mother very late in life, a girl whose plainness was a match only for her dullness. She had no sparkle. But I could see that new female company might be 'distracting' for the young men of the household and was disposed to counter anything untoward.

'A most excellent idea, Bentley,' I said. 'Make sure they are all bathed within this two hour so we may convene in the salon for my full inspection.'

Those two hours, I may tell you, were spent in the most delicious anticipation of what was to occur in this very salon where I write these words. Sarah, who had not been privy to my conversation with Bentley, immediately apprehended her mistress's excitement and enquired as to the reason for it. I decided to withhold this information so as to surprise Sarah at what was about to pass and dissimulated that it must be a little excitement about the visit this afternoon, a fiction she seemed to accept.

Then, at around 11, there was a knock on the door and Bentley appeared in a new more formal uniform with the tight breeches, a cut-away waistcoat and jacket, which framed the beautiful sight always awaiting me in the front of his trousers. 'If my lady is quite ready, her staff is ready for inspection,' he said, all business.

I looked round at Sarah, who had looked up from her needlework. I raised an eyebrow as if to communicate to her that this was something she was going to enjoy. 'Very well,' I said to Bentley, standing and exhorting Sarah to stand also. 'Send them in.'

With a click of his heel on the parquet to signal the commencement of the inspection, an overwhelming sight greeted both Sarah and me: a line of seven entirely naked young men filing in and standing before us. All my familiar boys stood before me with their hands behind their backs, looking at the wall behind me out of respect, their nakedness complete from their heads, where bows tying back unruly hair were their only garments, to their naked feet.

Bentley stood at the head of the line and said, simply, 'When my lady is ready...' at which I walked towards him and stood in front of the first lad in line, Smythe. Smythe had been my first after Bentley and I had such affection for the smooth, golden lad. I reached out and felt his skin -- as soft as I remembered -- his nipples hard little rivets, his penis already extending from its golden nest at my touch.

'See Smythe,' I said to Sarah, who had enjoyed the vision of him on the very first day as I brought him to climax in front of the room. 'See how fresh he is. Feel his skin. Such softness...'

She reached out a hand, felt his side, down to his hip, came closer and reached around to feel his buttocks. 'Yes, my lady, such softness...' In reaching round to feel Smythe's backside, Sarah had inadvertently brushed the head of his penis with her dress and his penis had responded by rising to horizontal.

'Even the skin on his penis is like satin,' I said to her, grasping his cock and then passing it to her.

'Yes, my lady. It feels like rose petals only with steel beneath.'

Next we passed to Stephenson, smooth and shaved as he always was since that very first bathtime. Next to Smythe, he looked dark, swarthy almost, with eyes so black you knew not where they looked. 'And look at Stephenson,' I enjoined Sarah. 'See how smooth I have made him.' Saying this I reached out and caressed the hairless area around his penis, causing a reaction in that area, and his balls. 'Please...'

Sarah again reached out her hand to touch only the third penis in her long life. 'Yes, my lady, that is as smooth as butter.'

'Turn boy,' I said to Stephenson. He did so and I pushed him in the middle of his back to entreat him to bend, which he did. 'And look how smooth he is even here,' I said to Sarah, leaning forward and pulling the young man's buttocks apart until the pink rose of his hole was visible to us.

'Oh that does look so pretty, my lady,' said Sarah, looking at this beautiful anus. 'Does it trouble my lady much to maintain this state?'

'Not at all, Sarah,' replied I, looking saucily at Bentley. 'If I am employed so as not to be able to attend to Stephenson, Bentley makes sure that everything is tended in the way that pleases me the most. Turn back, boy.' Stephenson was burning with shame at having to be examined so intimately in the company of his workmates, who, I could see, were mirthful at his humiliation.

Moving onto the third member of staff, Sarah needed no introduction as it was Daniel, with his red pubic hair and prodigious member, so far in a soft state, the head of his penis hidden behind foreskin. He still did not know for sure whose was the second mouth on his penis the previous day but our joint inspection must have given him a suspicion.

'Ah Daniel,' I said, looking into his raspberries-and-cream complexion. 'What a beautiful sight you always manage to present.'

'Thank you, my lady,' he said, blushing deeper, his penis growing with the compliment. How delightful to be so young and so desirous of attention that a mere kind word can inspire such a physical transformation. Sarah and I decided to stand and simply watch as the penis grew to its full size.

'That is a beautiful sight, to be sure, my lady,' said Sarah, gazing at what just hours ago had been in her greedy mouth. I decided we should leave Daniel's penis untouched, not only as we had enjoyed it fully the day before but to make the lad wonder at our failure to reach out to it.

Next in line was Erikson, already smiling cheerfully as we arrived in front of him. Standing next to the whiteness of Daniel, he looked golden, as if he had been dipped in syrup and there was, in fact, a strand of Erikson's own syrup dangling from his half-erect penis. I reached out my hand, collected it on a finger and put it to my lips while looking Erikson deep in the face. He almost laughed and looked down so as not to commit an impertinence.

The remainder of the young men I shall describe at a future date but the inspection for now complete, Sarah and I took our seats in front of the beautiful, naked and mostly tumescent young men. 'And now Bentley,' I said, calmly as if this was the most natural request in all the world, 'we would like to enjoy the staff pleasuring themselves to completion. And I would like them to look at me while they do it.'

I wondered if the young men would need an explanation from Bentley but he had clearly warned them of this morning's duties and they each took their member in their hand and started to manipulate it. Within moments droplets of moisture appeared at those little eyes at the end of many of the penises and putting my hand into a pocket I had artfully unstitched earlier that day express for this purpose, started to secretly stroke my sex as I watched these fine young men pleasuring themselves expressly for me to behold.

And how various were their ways of eliciting pleasure for themselves. Daniel gripped his penis in a fist and worked it hard causing his balls to fly about while Smythe took his almost daintily between two fingers and a thumb and gently worked it. Erikson, being circumcised, wet his hand before he started to draw it back and forth over the knob, his head thrown back a little in ecstasy but his eyes still fixed on my own while Stephenson caressed his testicles and occasionally reached underneath to stroke his smooth little hole. So his enjoyment of being shaved was as my own!

This sight we enjoyed for some minutes, leaning into each other to comment on such things as the froth that had built from Daniel's precum and the friction of his masturbation and the way Smythe's testicles disappeared up into his body and needed to be coaxed down into his scrotum again. Then, when I could see that certain among the group could contain themselves no more, I said, 'Bentley, they may complete now...'

There was an instant splat from Daniel, who must have been riding the crest of a climax for some time, and whose sperm landed at my feet in a blob. His body shuddered with the orgasm and, as it desisted, I stood, walked towards him and crouched to lick the last of his semen from that head.

As I did so, Erikson, with a groan, shot a rope of sperm onto my dress and arm and looked so crestfallen at having, once again, completed without permission.

'Never mind,' I said to him and to make him feel better chased the streak of sperm with my finger and placed it with relish on my tongue.

Still looking me in the eye, it was now Stephenson's turn and without speaking but just nodding his head for approval, I granted permission with a slow close of my eyes and, positioned by now in front of him, let the full strength of his output hit my face and bust.

Then it was time for Smythe, who simply said, 'If it please my lady...' And it did please her. His sperm drizzled rather from the eye in his penis as he continued coaxing it with his two fingers and thumb. I caught the load in my hand, examined it for a moment and then consumed it whole, while I bethought myself how different these young men were in terms of both sperm and orgasm: some spurted, some dribbled; some tasted salty, some sweet. All seemed divine to me in my inexperience.

With my floor all spattered with the seed of my young men, I dismissed them and left Sarah to clear the mess in private. Whether she tasted any of that young semen, the first she would ever have tasted, is a matter only she is privy to but by the glint in her eye when I left her alone with it, my suspicions are that she did.

For myself, I left with Bentley and took to my room in preparation for the day's visit. When I came down in fresh muslin and jewellery, which I rarely wore these days, Smythe was still in the kitchen bathtub. I looked over affectionately as he washed his now shrunken penis as I approached my kitchen staff to discuss details of this afternoon's repast.

The cook is from the north and a very manly specimen, muscular, heavy and deep of voice. His name is Anton and he is helped by two handsome young lads, Bullock and Twee. 'So Anton...' I commenced.

'Yes, my lady,' said he, a slight bow as he turned to me. 'Here is the list of victuals I was thinking of preparing for this afternoon's visit. If your lady would like to read and approve. Or suggest any alternatives.'

I frankly was wholly disinterested in the tea but scanned the list and gave my approval and took my leave to check that the salon was fit for my guests. Unseen boys had done wonders in arranging flowers, airing the room, making every bit of silverware shiny and generally presenting the reception room of a wholly respectable lady of some sixty-something years.

I had no fear of discovery when my guests should arrive. It is fairly common for visitors to only ever see male servants, the females usually kept either in the kitchen or employed cleaning unseen, especially by those outside the household. I had also arranged for Sarah to be sitting quietly in a corner to lend an air of respectability to the scene of the tea.

And so the moment arrived. Bentley stepped into the salon, where I was pretending to read a volume of verse, and announced that the Dowager Duchess of Duneaton, the Lady Minette Duneaton and Lord Duneaton were arrived. The Dowager Duchess -- we shall call her by her first name, Sophie, in the interests of brevity -- was widowed like myself but unlike myself she had benefited in no way from the death of the late Lord Duneaton. I supposed children around the house will hamper liberty. Besides, Sophie was respectable to the point of ridiculousness. One felt her blush at the sight of a table leg.

The three entered the room with sounds of affection, which I did not entirely believe. 'My dear, how are you?' said Sophie, approaching me with open arms while her doltish children stood behind her.

'I am as well as can be expected,' I said, thinking of the young sperm that had been coursing around my mouth as I said it. 'And how are these two delightful children. Let me look at you child...' I said to Minette, holding out my hands to her. Such falseness is, I am afraid, a staple in the English country house. The child smiled and thanked me.

'And who is this handsome man?' I said, humorously turning towards the young Lord Duneaton. I had said it in sarcasm but looking at the young man, he actually was rather handsome, having grown well into his looks now he was in his late teens. A strong nose, dark almost curly hair, a plump sensuous mouth and, as I appraised the rest of him, and interesting shape in the front of his breeches.

'Please, sit,' I said, beckoning them to a little arrangement of chairs around a table. 'Lord Duneaton, sit at my side so that I can look upon these two beautiful women more easily,' I purred, nodding towards Bentley to have the tea brought in.

Within moments, Bullock and Twee, in their brand-new formal uniforms appeared with plates of sandwiches and they looked more delicious than the tea: their breeches were brilliant white and tight enough to make out the exact shape of their penises and their testicles inside them. Sophie took a lingering look, I noticed, while the young men set the plates on the table, although she would have been mortified to know that I had spied her. And Minette blushed deeply as Bullock stood beside her, his bulge almost resting on the table, passing sandwiches onto her plate. Another Bentley masterstroke as he was the author of this little scene. Most excellent Bentley!

As we started our sandwiches and peppered them with the smallest of talk, I crept my hand under the tablecloth and caressed Lord Duneaton's knee. His shock was visible to me but not to his mother or sister. I took my hand from his knee and travelled it up his thigh and, apart from a little colouring around the cheeks, he kept my secret well, as I chit-chatted to his mother about local news, none of which I was really interested in.

From his thigh, I took my hand to the young man's testicles and caressed them secretly as I inquired of Sophie's new butler and how difficult it was to get staff. Not if you pay them correctly and take their penises in your mouth, I thought to myself. The true history of Sophie was that she had married well in terms of a title but, once married, discovered that the late Lord Duneaton was running through his fortune with gambling and drinking and, when in town, womanising. It was quite the scandal and, despite her haughtiness, very much a shadow on Sophie's respectability. It was for this reason that she was prepared to throw this handsome son of hers at a woman old enough to be his grandmother, knowing that I had an immense fortune and no relatives by whom it could be inherited. She -- and perhaps he! -- had decided that a short marriage to an elderly lady was worth such an immense elevation of fortune.

By this time, my hand had reached the young man's penis, by now hard in his breeches, and it was delicious to me to see his face keep the secret of what was going on beneath the tablecloth from his mother as she prattled on.

'And I hear you have two new horses!' she exclaimed, no doubt envious of anyone who could afford such a thing and eager to hide that envy.

'Oh, yes,' I said. 'Such beautiful creatures. And seeing as we have finished our tea, why don't I get Bentley to take you and the Lady Minette to see them. I know what interest you both take in such things. I'll stay here with the Lord Duneaton and discuss matters pertaining to our estates.'

Sophie clearly took the hint, thinking I would be interviewing her son in prospect of a match, and almost jumped from her chair, taking Minette's hand to hurry her from the room. Bentley was in place and escorted the women to the front door and from there, with a look full of meaning over his shoulder towards me, towards the stables, whence the crunch of their feet on my gravel could be heard. Sarah, meanwhile, had clearly decided that she would stay at her place in the corner to observe what was about to take place.

'So, young man,' I said to Lord Duneaton, determined not to call him by his title in order to bring him down a little. 'Please stand up so that I can see what I have been exploring with my hand beneath the tablecloth.'

Astounded at my boldness, he at first hesitated but after a moment or two where decisions were being made visibly in his head, he stood and displayed a fine bulge in breeches, which, if not as tight as my boys', showed his form off to his advantage.

'Step towards me, boy,' I said. He obeyed. I put out my hand and caressed the visible bulge in his breeches, running my fingers along its length, cupping the part of the bulge I assumed to be his testicles, all while he stood with the greatest of respect with his hands behind his back looking into the distance.

'I'd like to see more,' I said, looking at the bulge. Again, I could see thoughts travelling through the young mind, blood rushing to those handsome cheeks.

'As my lady wishes,' said he, at which, looking directly into his young proud face, I unbuttoned the flap on the front of his breeches and let it fall. Underneath was the material of his tucked-in shirt and undergarments. I was so pleased I had dispensed with undergarments in this house. Such an unnecessary obstruction to a lady's enjoyment of a young man.

I could feel the boy's nervousness as I took the waistband of his breeches and descended them until they were around his ankles and he was standing before me in his undergarments, which I wasted no time in similarly removing until only the tissue of his shirt stood between me and what looked like a thick young penis.

Lifting the hem of the shirt, I revealed what I had suspected, a penis that was almost too thick to fit one's hand around, dark in colour and emerging from a thick bush of black hair. 'Oh, my,' I said, looking at him, wondering if I was the first woman to enjoy his manhood. 'You are quite gifted, boy,' I said. 'Sarah, step forward and see what we have here.'