(It was the summer of 1961 and I was 21 years old and was continuing with my hobby of bird watching. I had spent the previous two weeks on the banks of Brantwood Water in the English Lake District. I had been studying waterfowl.
One night at the hotel where I was staying a hen-party of eight middle-aged women arrived. I was invited up to their rooms when they found out that I did not mind pleasuring them orally)
*
Pamela stood over my naked body as if claiming it as a trophy or a new plaything. She stood above my crotch and with great care rubbed her stockinged feet slowly over my stomach and my rock hard erection.
"Me next please," she mewed.
The others were still laughing and joking with Betty who told them that she would like 'more of where that came from'.
I told Pamela to stand astride my face and allow me to slide her panties off. All around us the conversation stopped as they watched Pamela stand over me. She reached up under her red shirt-waister and petticoat and slid her panties off as far as her knees.
She had an attractive toothy smile and a long slim neck and stared straight into my eyes with total confidence as if she did this sort of thing every night with her husband.
In my naked state I couldn't hide the fact that I was aroused and instinctively reached for my erect penis which appeared to crawl further up my stomach.
"Go on Pam, drop them on his face girl," urged Colleen.
I looked across at the Irish woman where she was sitting on the floor with her knees together but feet apart. I couldn't help but notice that she wore pale blue glossy French-knickers under her black satin skirt and pale blue slip.
I stared into Pamela's eyes again and she blew me a kiss and swayed her hips provocatively but kept her knees apart so as to prevent her panties from slipping further down. I decided that it was about time they came off so reached up and slid them down to her ankles as she stepped out of them in a very lady-like, almost elegant, way.
I held them to my nose as if they were some sort of special gift. They were simple white nylon briefs with a pale pink lace trim and smelled of perfume and warm moist vagina. I maintained eye contact with her as I breathed in her femininity and reluctantly replaced them to one side.
"Go on Pam sit on his face," shouted Colleen who was now drinking whisky straight out of a bottle. I looked at her French knickers and noticed that her other hand had strayed under her skirt.
Pamela looked like a giantess from my vantage point. Her hips appeared quite wide and I wondered what I had let myself into. My eyes remained on hers but shot glances up her dress as she swayed from side to side. She was clearly teasing me and I was enjoying it.
"Let me know if I squash you," she said, lowering herself, inches at a time, onto me.
I watched her bend her knees and open her legs. Her fine denier black stockings came into view under her white flared slip. I watched spellbound as she squatted down and rested her haunches on my face. She adjusted her clothes around her and I felt her underslip and dress rest on my chest and upper arms. She shook down her dress at the front and sides and I stared at her glistening vagina surrounded by dark pubic hair. She was clearly aroused.
"Are you alright down there?" she asked.
I told her that I was fine and began coaxing her lower lips apart. Soon her juices began to flow and she shifted her feet slightly and allowed most of her body weight to rest on me.
Her odour was musky and powerful and soon my tongue was completely inside her and probing the walls of her vagina. I moved my hands to her buttocks and began caressing them and kneading them, feeling the firmness of her flesh and smoothness of her skin.
"I wish I could take you home young man," said Pamela clearly enjoying my attentions," but my husband wouldn't quite understand."
I licked and flicked at her clitoris which had emerged from under its hood and appeared quite prominent. She flinched as I ran my tongue around it and up and down her cleft. She soon got used to by oral pleasuring and we settled into a sort of rhythm with her rocking on her heels as I licked and lapped, and entered and re entered her vagina.
I watched her suspender straps flex and stretch at every movement and from time to time I'd nibble the inside of each thigh.
"Ouch, that tickles," she told me more than once.
In the meantime my erection was being fondled and stroked my slim cool fingers. I heard laughter as it was handled and lewd comments on its length and girth. One of the women began wanking me and she was clearly an expert. I reached down and tried to help things along but my hand was brushed aside.
"No you don't," said a motherly voice and whoever she might be continued with jerking me off.
Under Pamela my face was quite sticky as she wiped her fanny up and down my nose and mouth. She was clearly close to 'coming' judging by her breathing and little shrieks. All around me her dress and slip shook and swished.
"Yes, yes don't fucking stop," she yelled.
"Language Pamela," said someone, "remember there's a young gentleman present."
I continued furiously licking her clitoris and used my fingers to scratch her thighs above her stocking tops. Within seconds she 'came'. Her body seemed to tremble, quiver then shudder as wave after wave hit her.
"Yes, Oh yes, yes," she screeched and the other women stopped talking and clapped.
"Well done Pam," said Colleen.
"It was nothing, really," said the woman squatting on my face, and pulled her dress to one side to see what a mess I was in.
"Pass me my knickers," she said and began mopping my brow and cheeks. I took them from her and wiped my mouth and chin. I heard her knees crack as she stood up then step into her panties, I watched her rearrange her clothing and pull down her nylon slip which had risen up.
"There, Will I do?" she asked one of the others as she adjusted her hair and suspender clips.
In the dim light from the bedside lamps I noticed that it was Betty who was still wanking me. She suddenly stopped when Joyce told her that I would 'lose the urge' if I was wanked off completely. Clearly Joyce had had experience in such matters.
"Well I'm next," said Glenda, walking towards me. "I don't think I could squat for very long so I'm going to kneel over you young man," she said in a very matter-of-fact way as if she were discussing the weather with the vicar.
Glenda was quite tall and slim with blonde hair cut quite short; she wore a knee length navy blue pleated skirt below a white blouse. She wore pearls and expensive looking earrings and bracelets. I noticed from my position flat on my back that her petticoat was white and her seamed stockings were flesh coloured.
"Right I'll just tale down my drawers, no peeping ladies," she said and this was met by laughter.
She had a kindly face but it was more wrinkled than the rest of them and tanned. Too much sunbathing had taken its toll.