My adventure, if you can call it that, began just over 12 months ago when I was flying to New York to start my new job playing the clarinet in the Metropolitan Opera orchestra. I was in my early thirties with no romantic connections having broken up with my girlfriend three months earlier, so when my agent mentioned that the Met were recruiting I jumped at the chance.
I was travelling business class courtesy of my father's senior position in major broadsheet newspaper — a perk I didn't feel at all awkward about taking advantage of — and I was looking forward to watching a movie on the flight across the Atlantic or even catching some sleep. Events turned out otherwise.
Sitting opposite me in the window seat was an attractive middle aged woman whom I took to be in her fifties, although I learned later that she was well on her way to seventy years old. She was expensively dressed and obviously took great care over her makeup and coiffure, and when she spoke it was in the well modulated tones of someone from the Upper East Side of Manhattan; an accent I recognised from my teens when my father was the New York correspondent of his newspaper. Although we lived outside of the city in Westchester County, he was frequently invited to the many cocktail parties of New York socialites and my mother and I usually accompanied him.
I had displayed musical talent early and while we were living in New York my father arranged for me to have extra classes at the Juilliard School in addition to the tuition at my exclusive private academy. We often attended performances at the Metropolitan Opera and New York City Ballet — my mother's choice, and it was from her that I obviously inherited my ability since my father was tone deaf. Unusually for my age therefore I developed a taste or even a passion for opera, especially the works of Italian composers of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. We returned to London when I was eighteen, but despite my lack of the appropriate British examination results I was admitted to the Bachelor in Music course at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. The great thing about studying in London was that I was able to supplement my allowance from my father by performing as a session musician and in jazz clubs, where I learned almost as much about playing the clarinet as at college. On graduation I was fortunate to be accepted by one of the London orchestras, no doubt owing something to my father's influence.
The role of a jobbing musician is not conducive to forming long term relationships but I had a succession of girlfriends and a number of affairs with fellow members of the orchestra when we were on tour, some of them married. It was one of these ladies who introduced me to the naturist lifestyle when we were on tour in Croatia where there are many pretty nudist beaches, and where sunshine and warm clear blue seas are more or less guaranteed. I discovered to my surprise that I am an exhibitionist at heart, and while I definitely enjoyed the female pulchritude on display I equally enjoyed the admiring glances I received which I found to be very arousing. I should say that while my penis is only just over average size many women have commented that they were attracted by its aesthetic appearance, especially when erect.
To return to my story. My travelling companion, whom I learned was called Marilyn and also that she was recently widowed, struck up a conversation and I don't know whether it was the excellent wine with the meal, or because I was feeling rather horny after several months when my only sexual companion had been my right hand or perhaps because of something in her manner, but I found myself telling her things that I had not shared with even my closest friends and colleagues. When I admitted to my pleasure at going nude in public there was something in her response and the look in her eye that indicated more than polite interest. Eventually the food and wine had their usual effect and I felt myself growing drowsy, so I made my excuses and stretched out to go to sleep.
At some time later into the flight I was roused by a hand reaching under my blanket to feel for my penis. I feigned sleep, interested to see where things might be leading. The roving hand which obviously belonged to my female travelling companion, eventually found my trouser fastening which she carefully unzipped so that she could slip her hand inside to find what she was seeking. By now I was fully erect and quite prepared to abandon myself to a delightful hand job. Marilyn was clearly a highly skilled expert in the art of manual sexual stimulation because rather than hurrying to the natural climax of penile caresses she held me on the delicious edge of an orgasm for fifteen or more minutes so that when I eventually ejaculated it was with a greater than normal intensity. The ecstatic look on my face must have betrayed that I was no longer asleep, but far from looking guilty or embarrassed Marilyn just licked my semen off her fingers with a look of pleasure before finding a tissue to clean me up.
"Young man," she said a little later, "I have an interesting proposition for you which I hope that you will accept and which I'm certain you will find extremely pleasurable."
I was intrigued by what this outwardly respectable upper class lady might be proposing so I replied that I was listening.
"My friends and I," she continued, "have a very naughty hobby. We like watching attractive young men stripping and then masturbating until they climax and there is a secret club in New York where we can indulge our pastime. However we have recently found a way to take our little fetish to a higher level."
"Please go on," I replied, by now very interested in her story.
"I don't know whether you have heard of the practice of CFNM — that is clothed females and naked males — but we have started holding monthly CNFM soirées in one or other of our apartments. There are usually about a dozen of us, mostly widowed or separated, and we invite three or four men to be our naked playthings. The only condition is that they allow us complete access to their bodies for our own pleasure and over the course of an evening we will usually make them cum three or four times — I should have said that we have discovered a taste for cum and we often get them to ejaculate into a champagne glass. To ensure that they remain hard for the duration of our parties we supply them with sildenafil tablets to take a couple of hours beforehand."
Although I had never come across this particular fetish before, I was more sexually excited by her proposition than I had ever been my more conventional heterosexual practices. The very idea of being naked in the presence of beautifully dressed mature women and being used by them in the way she described lit up something in my mind that was entirely new and highly desirable. Although I had never thought that I might be a sexual fetishist I knew that I wanted to be a part of it very strongly indeed.
"Madam," I said in my most formal manner, "I find your proposition extremely attractive and it would give me the greatest of pleasure to allow you and your lady friends to take advantage of my body, in fact I can think of nothing I would desire more."
