A Taste of High Society

The greeting ceremony was getting a bit boring. You hand-picked the guests for this small, inner-circle party, but even despite your exclusive status you had to make some compromises. Not everyone you invited was all that interesting or attractive, although you did try. You stifled a yawn when the Duke of Eggington kneeled for a kiss. Nice guy but unexciting. You opened your dress partly, but not all the way. He got to kiss your thigh and should be content with that.

Next up is young Sigurd - an aide to Swedish ambassador. (Or is it Norwegian? You should probably know.) You've seen him a few times and tend to like him. Tall, lean but strong, very polite and respectful. He is definitely into you, but he does a great job of concealing it - not from you, of course, from others. You let him kiss that crease between your thigh and pubic bone.

A few more guests pass by. Some of them get no further than your knee, while the luckier ones get to go quite a bit higher. Still, you haven't let anyone kiss your flower yet. Some of your decisions where driven by whim, some by political considerations, but in general you feel powerful enough to do what you please. Now, who is this pretty young thing? Cute face, very open, definitely smart. Extremely shy - she's glowing red and almost trembling as she kneels before you. You can't remember whose cousin she is, but you like her right away. You open the silky folds of your dress all the way, exposing your flower. Her eyes widen: she's never been to a ball of this scale, and not even in her dreams she could expect such honor. She blushes more than it seemed possible, takes a deep breath and touches your lower lips with hers. As she feels your scent and just a bit of taste, her eyes close and she trembles. She forces herself away but you can easily tell that she isn't just overwhelmed with honor - also desire. Note to self: definitely need to get to know her better.

The line has thinned out, and you're hoping to be done soon and move on to more exciting activities. Oh, look who turned up - Count Fooger. What a buffoon. You didn't actually invite him, but he's so well connected that he can just show up, and he knows it. Your smile is as cold as glaciers in Iceland, and your dress opens only up to your ankle. He can invite himself to your party but not to your body.

I am at the end of the line, and your face still carries a residual frown when you see me. I am a bit of an unknown - you know _of_ me, but not much. You heard just enough to be curious, so you decided to extend a surprise invitation and see what the rumors are about. I see your face light up a bit, and that gives my confidence a boost. Not that I'm worried or scared about socializing with the creme de la creme, but still. You have some reputation.

I walk up to you, bow respectfully, and get on my knees. Well, here it is - the moment of truth, possibly one of many. How far - or how high - will I get? I see just a hint of a smile and a sparkle in your eyes. I look straight at you - as well as I can, from my position. After a brief moment, you make up your mind, and your dress opens up all the way. Wow! The luck is on my side tonight... I lean forward and catch a hint of your smell. It almost makes me lose balance. So subtle but absolutely overpowering - don't think I smelled anything sexier in all my life. As I lean in to plant my kiss, I can't help but wonder: did you do it to spite Fooger? Eh, I don't care - I'll take it.

As my lips and yours make contact, I instantly realize that there is no way I am just letting this go. I know the rules, and I am about to break them. Still looking you straight in the eye, I plant a deep, thorough, wet kiss right on your knob. Your eyebrows raise a bit - I'm not supposed to do this. I also see that you are gasping for air. You're trying to hide it, but you are enjoying this, a lot.

Since I wasn't beheaded on the spot (which was, admittedly, a possibility), I press on. Quite literally - my tongue starts exploring you, and me and my tongue both agree that you are delicious. Exquisite. I get distracted from the staring game, and too focused on tasting you. As I look up again, I see that your eyes are partly closed and you are biting your lower lip. Jackpot. Still, I need to be careful, so I resist the urge to grab your buns and bury my face in your flower. I continue my gentle licking, all the time wondering how - and when - will this end.

In a few moments, I see you gesture to your servants. I have no clue what that means, and whether I need to be worried, but soon I see two of them rushing to you with a chair. It's an interesting design - something like a short lounge chair, quite reclined. They carefully slide it between your legs, and you slowly lower yourself onto the seat. Bold as I am, I am wondering whether I should disengage. My doubts are soon cleared, as I feel your hand on the back of my head. You press me closer towards your flower - not strongly but assertively. I am relieved, as I am no longer an audacious intruder. Your gesture validated me, and also left me no choice. Grateful for that, I concentrate on my task of pleasuring you.

As you lean back on your couchette, you split your attention between the signals coming from your flower (by God, he is _good_) and your thoughts on what is going on. Your spur-of-the-moment decision to spite Fooger may cause trouble in the future, but right now you are really happy with it. You relax, eyes mostly-closed, still scanning the reactions and murmurs around you. He breached etiquette, and so did you, but so what. Your hand stays in his hair, and you give him gentle guidance. You're getting close you your first explosion of the night... Wait, there it is... Just keep doing what you're doing... Instead, he suddenly plunges his tongue hard and deep into your flower, and sucks in your knob. Bang! You arch your back, grab his head with both hands, and feel just wonderful.

...Well, this was indeed amazing, but a bit too fast. The party has obviously transitioned from "greeting" to "main event" - you see most guests standing around you in a circle, observing the unexpected show. You decide to have me carry on. I got my orders and am happy to oblige - your first explosion made your juices flow, and I am positively drunk. If I regret anything, it is that I can't quite see what is going on around me. This is my first time at an event of this kind, so I don't quite know the protocol.

You make another gesture to your guests - the more experienced know what it means, the newcomers follow suit. The gentlemen in the circle all undo their trousers and pull out their staffs. Some are quite hard, they are definitely enjoying the event. You look around, deciding whom you will taste tonight. Making up your mind, you motion for one of the guests to approach. He comes to your couchette, his staff hard as a rock and close to your face. He knows not to move any further, but you like what you see and gently wrap your fingers around it. Pulling it closer, you wrap your lips around the head and lick it. Mmmm, not bad at all. You give him a nod before letting go.

You try a few more, evaluating them, and let the crowd know your verdict. Some are deemed so-so, while some enjoy your approval. This directly affects their chances of bedding someone tonight, so everyone is paying attention. Sigurd, whom you haven't tasted before, turns out to be large, heavy and quite delicious. Your approving "ummmmm" pretty much guarantees that he will be chased by ladies tonight.

Lastly, you beckon Fooger, who walks up to you with a smug grin. Much to his surprise, you give his spear a long look, then make a disgusted grimace and wave him away without tasting. His face goes pale, then red; you hear muffled giggles all around. He's definitely not getting anywhere tonight. Hah.

All the while, I am hard at work. Exploring, caressing, nibbling, twirling. Realizing that you were busy, I toned it down for a while, but now I am turning on the heat. You start wiggling and panting, and the pressure on the back of my head increases. You are about to erupt again. This time, though, you need some cream with it. You wave at one of the higher-rated guests. As they come back to your face, you rather unceremoniously grab them by the sack and shove their staff deep in your mouth. Yes! That's exactly what you needed. You suck him vigorously, and he doesn't last long, filling your mouth with hot cream. Yeeeeees. Once again you reach the top, thrusting into my face, smearing your juices. I feel that my trousers are about to rip.

You pull me up by my hair, and point at your flower. That may sound like a confusing instruction, but at the moment I instantly get it. It takes me a mere second to take off my lower garments, and another to insert my pulsating staff all the way into your flower. I am in heaven, and you don't seem to mind either. I start my motions, trying my best not to explode right away.

As we go on, I see that guests are wandering away and engaging in some fun of their own. You gave them the signal they needed, and now everyone will mingle and look for a partner (or partners). Only the most die-hard fans stay close to you and watch; young Sigurd is one of them. That guy could be drowning in juices right now, and yet here he is. Definitely has a serious thing for you. Hmmm. Someone with a great staff, really into you, is standing right there; you are definitely missing something in your mouth... What gives? Without hesitation, you call upon him, and very soon you are filled with hot flesh from both ends. Watching him enter your mouth is quite erotic, and I start pounding even harder.

After a short while of enjoying us both, you suddenly decide to spice things up even more. Taking him out, you turn him just a bit, so that his wet spear is pointing at me. It looks like it got even bigger. You look at me, not saying anything... I realize that this is a test. If I make the right move, my future will be quite interesting... I know the right answer but I hesitate: I never thought of myself as being into _that stuff_.

...and once again, your palm at the back of my head solves the dilemma... I have my orders...