Then she crossed her legs with a swish of the nylon, provoking an instantaneous response from the men who all leaned forward as one. Her crotch had momentarily flashed red...if you'd blinked, you'd missed it...and her upper leg was now exposed to the top of her thigh, putting on show the full, daintily patterned, top of her stocking, with a band of creamy flesh above it, and a couple of the taut silky red straps and fasteners that held it there in place. With one crimson finger-tipped hand she stroked up and down her leg while she searched for the correct place in the paperback.
"Ah, yes. Here we are..." and she observed the group through her long dark eyelashes above the pages of the book.
All shuffling ceased. Like a head teacher, she had complete control over her minions.
All ears were focused on her voice in the same way as all eyes were focused on the garter straps caressing her thigh.
Her voice oozed a deliberate passion as she began,
'Had he caught a glimpse of her up there, as she'd backed away from the window and into the shadows? Maybe he'd seen the curtain move. She couldn't be sure. All that Lady Constance knew was that she was in complete turmoil as she returned to the deeper recesses of the bedroom, her long flimsy negligee billowing out behind her, outlining the voluptuous curves of her still lithe body in the flickering candlelight. Her breath came in sharp pants...'
Natalie held one hand up to her bosom.
'The sight had been a complete, an utter revelation to her as the object of her unbridled desire had stood there ladling water over his naked, sunburned body, wiping the grime of an arduous day's work from his muscled torso. Colin's penis, she could see, even in that half-light, was so deliciously proportioned. It was something she'd only seen before when her parents had taken her round the farm during the rutting season. Her dear mother had explained to her that such was the way of things and that, if she was very lucky, then when her time came she might also be taken in such a wild fashion. As an afterthought and with a sigh, her mother had added that for that, though, she'd have to be very, very lucky.
Now she flung herself down onto the bed. No, quite frankly, she had not been lucky at all in that respect. That shriveled weed that Lord Chelmont, her husband, called a dick had only provoked scorn in her and left her shamelessly unsatisfied. This was a result of too much in-breeding, perhaps? So what if he was of noble descent going back many generations, and money was not even a matter of concern between them? - she could buy whatever it was that her heart desired - but nothing could ever buy the heart and love and penis of this strapping youth called Colin. She was married, and that was it - not so much for better and certainly it was for worse.'
Natalie's hand was now exploring along the upper reaches of her chest, softly releasing the straps which controlled her dress.
'She knew she needed the loving touch of a real man, a man who would take her into his arms, embrace her, smother her breasts in warm wet kisses, explore her hidden niches with his tongue, press his strong body onto her weak and pliable form, uncover erogenous zones that even she was as yet unaware of...she would show scant resistance...'
Natalie's hand was now delving inside her own top and making urgent circles around her breast. The matching red of her bra came into occasional view, but it was the presence of the engorged nipple as it was manipulated beneath the thin cloth which held everyone's gaze. Her eyes closed and she repeated,
'scant resistance...'
She laid the book on her lap and, her head flung back, began to tug at her own chest with both hands...
"Oh yes, ohhh..."
Then she seemed to remember that her purpose in being there was, after all, to tell a story. Her eyes opened and she released her breasts, though the bra remained exposed where she'd pulled her dress down at the front to engage in her hot fantasy, the straps hanging loosely over her upper arms. She took up the book again.
'...and so she lay spread-eagled on the bed, the negligee sprawled wide across her form, the excited nipples jutting upwards as though they could slice through the fine lace like a pair of daggers, the bristles of her mound forming a rough area through the smooth material like new shoots in the sand after a brief desert rain, before dipping down into the now widening oasis that lay hidden between her thighs...'
Natalie's legs had unfolded. She was now alternately looking at the page and then closing her eyes while probing at the inner reaches between her legs which had slid open to accommodate her fingers. Her hand moved up and down towards her crotch, titillating the insides of her thighs, and the hem of her dress eventually gave up its attempt to retain some token of modesty and remained there, concertina-like, in her lap. I took a brief moment to glance at her audience, and without exception, each had his hand busy down below, engaging in ever less furtive jerkings of his own. Some had even released the zips of their pants and extracted their own tool, without bothering to obscure the fact. I looked down to find my own personal tent that was also pressing urgently upwards from my lap. I leaned back in the chair and pushed my hips forward. There was no way I could resist the urge to stroke it in response to my own mother's wanton display, so I did stroke it, vigorously.
'She allowed her hands to roam freely across her own aroused form, and in her fevered imagination it was as though he was there with her in the room, as though he'd lowered himself down beside her, his breath blowing a gentle whisper across her distended nipples, and as though it was his hand that was beginning to gently explore what, up until now, she'd only allowed her husband to touch. So her own hands emulated what she knew he would want to do, copying what she knew to be their mutual desire. But it was not she who was doing the directing. Her hands seemed to have adopted a life of their own and to know instinctively where the epicenter of her desire was to be found.'
Natalie was by now running her hand up the inside of her one thigh, traversing the material of her damp pantied crotch, and down the inside of her other. Her dress was up almost to her waist. Her legs had opened far wider to accommodate her movements and now her knees were splayed as far as they would go. Ever so gently, she laid herself back onto the table-top and held the book up above her face with one hand and resumed her probing with the other. The further she probed, so it seemed to her that her legs were not spread wide enough.
She lifted them until the stiletto heels were poised on the ledge of the table. And then she managed somehow to widen her legs even more.
'Constance's fingers had rucked up the hem of the fragile wispy negligee and she was now frantically making passionate love to her own soaked pussy lips. She raised her bum to more easily gain access and, like strumming at a well-tuned string instrument, two of her fingers slid her lips apart while a third toyed around the sensitive nub that was her clit.'
Natalie's fingers had likewise also begun to focus in. They no longer tiptoed up and down her thighs, but stroked vertically up and down the equally soaked and now fairly transparent material of her panties. As she delved into the crease, so her panties disappeared with them into the crack, her labia free to jut out and form soft cushions around it to either side. Maybe the material of her panties was preventing the deeper access she needed. Whatever the reason, she extracted her fingers, hooked them around the material and levered them to one side. Her full, pink, wide-open cunt was now on free display to the transfixed eyes of her onlookers who had suddenly forgotten how to blink, and to their mouths which had suddenly forgotten how they should breathe. Then there was a discreet movement, and out of the corner of my eye I was aware of one fellow taking out a pair of spectacles and placing them on the end of his nose and screwing up his face to obtain better clarity. Everyone seemed to exhale in unison, some with a whistle, others with a gasp. And then their activities down below resumed with an added urgency.
'She thrust more fingers inside of her slick, sloppy, slobbering cavern. "Oh, Colin," she gasped, "Oh Colin, how do I tell you I need you? I have to have you now..! Come to me, pleeease..!" and by pushing all of her fingers inside, she thought she might somehow appreciate a poor estimation of the girth of Colin's tool rampantly jabbing its way into her depths. It was indeed a poor approximation, but it was at least succeeding in eliciting a trembling response from her which grew and expanded until her whole being was juddering uncontrollably. "Oh Colin, oh Collllliiiiin, ohhhhh..." '
Up on the table, Natalie's jerkings were paralleling the wild frenzy of Lady Constance in the book. Several of the audience had stood up and were approaching her. Not timidly, but brazenly. Freddy was at the forefront, his hand gripping the base of his engorged purple-headed knob which he pointed straight towards Natalie's open and willing mouth. She turned her head towards it and he thrust it right inside through those painted lips, deep enough to make a sudden bulge appear at the rear of her cheek. He pulled back and lunged it forward again. Natalie let go of the book and used that now free hand to reach round the back of Freddy's ass and to pull his dick further forward into her mouth. All around her now, men were crowding in and openly caressing her legs, exposing her tits, holding onto that hand which was slithering diligently in and out of her pussy and helping to speed it up. White streamers at some point began to fly through the air and spurt at crazy angles across her dress, over her breasts, up the insides of her thighs and into her hair. Freddy's cum, though, was nowhere to be seen because he had already ejaculated fiercely down her throat with an ecstatic groan of pleasure, turning his face up towards the ceiling or to his god, and thrusting his hips forward, ensuring that Natalie had swallowed every drop before extricating himself from between her lips, allowing her to lick up the remaining dribble from his knob-head. She was now gasping and utterly soaked from top to toe, she could scarcely open her eyes because so much was caked across her lids.
