Mimi seemed to be the only one there who did not feel ready to explode. She would have needed a good hard piston pumping at her front entrance (or the back …) to be truly enjoying herself but she knew that her mistress’s desk drawers held an impressive collection of dildos. She quickly reached around the lady she was “tonguing,” as she would sometimes say, and managed to reach the box of dildos, picking two: one for her (a short and fat one she had christened “my big love-rat”) and another more sophisticated one, called “Doctor Pussy and Mister Ass.” It was a curious object indeed, made of ivory and split in two branches: one of them was long and straight, for the pussy, and the other was thinner, shorter, and slightly curved, for the ass. Mimi spun Georgette around and treated her to the more sophisticated of the two. The baker did not really understand what was going on, or what Mimi had in mind, but Georgette was so pleasantly surprised when those two handles drove into her that she began to squeak. Her husband, meanwhile, roared as he accelerated the pace of his pounding into Ghislaine, who growled like a panther in heat.
It was the marquise who sounded off the launch of the collective climax.
Mimi, always the clown, refrained from shouting out “On your marks … get set … ” to announce the arrival of the grand frisson, and instead simply looked at her mistress, who winked at her. Standing behind Georgette, Mimi accelerated her jerking and stroking, pushing the big tool in and out of the once timid baker, moving the “big love-rat” inside her own sex in firm, smooth motions.
The cries, sighs, and moans came closer and closer. Bodies twisted and shook in frenzy, and all four partners came within a few seconds of one another.
Once they all had caught their breath, Ghislaine took the group to a capacious shower where, entirely naked, they all began lathering one another in soap. For a change of scene, Mimi skillfully took care of Georges, while Madame la Marquise did the same with Georgette, who quickly became quite adventurous herself. They all tickled and kissed under the hot jets of water, and it was while sharing uproarious laughter that they all dried one another, so happy they were to caress and thank the flesh that had just given them so much pleasure.
Mimi was the first to be dressed again—hers was, after all, the simplest outfit—and poured the champagne.
“I am very pleased to count you among us, and to welcome you in my pleasure manor. I only wish for you to experience delights in ever-increasing intensity,” said Ghislaine, raising her glass. “And, if you would like us to formalize your initiation into our club, we will now kiss one another, exchanging mouthfuls of champagne. If you would be so kind, Georges? Being the only man, you are going to be our group’s lucky pivot.”
He did not understand the role he was asked to fulfill, and so Mimi explained in simpler terms.
“Okay, what you will do is take a big mouthful of this sparkling wine, and keep in your mouth. I will then stick my lips to yours, and you will offer me your mouthful. We’re allowed to kiss for as long as we like, but we have to be careful not to explode and get champagne everywhere. Ready?”
He obeyed the young chambermaid, and they exchanged a kiss that, once the champagne had been swallowed, continued with ardor. Obviously, Mimi had made quite the impression on him, as he did not seem to want to let go of her, grabbing handfuls of her ass, kissing her breasts with passion.
“What about me? What about me?” said the marquise gaily, elbowing her servant girl out of the way.
She drank up and switched places with Mimi to offer the man a new alcoholic kiss, which he chose to prolong once more.
“What about me? Who am I going to play with?” Georgette asked plaintively.
Mimi caressed her buttocks and gave them a few light taps.
“Well, with your husband as soon as he’s available—or with me, if you wish!”
“I would quite like to try with you, dear Mimi. You took such good care of me earlier. My husband can wait for tonight if we have any energy left. …”
She filled her mouth with champagne, and placed her lips on Mimi’s with some clumsiness. They both stifled their laughter, and their kiss did not go further.
Meanwhile, Georges did not seem to want to let go of the marquise, who had to push him back, firmly, to free herself again. She made up for this forced separation by gently tapping his member that was swelling yet again inside his pants.
“Oh my, Georges, you’re getting hard again! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Truly, no, I’m not. I’m am extremely fond of this little game.”
“And you will be sure to reap its benefits, tonight, in the conjugal bed,” replied Ghislaine with a smile. “After this little start …”
“Jumpstart you mean! Our Georges here definitely has a tiger in his tank now!” interrupted Mimi, which made Georges shake with another fit of laughter.
The marquise put her glasses back on and went to sit at her desk, assuming the position she had at the start of the interview.
“All that’s left is for us to decide, together, on the course you would like to enroll for. Or, at least, the nature of the first session you will choose. Now that you know a little more about our tastes here, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t like to jump right in at the deep end. I’m not talking about the swimming pool, where you will enjoy skinny-dipping with our other club members, but rather about the deep end of debauchery.”
She scrutinized the two spouses, sliding the tip of her ebony pen in and out of her mouth, as if she were in the midst of profound reflections—when really she just wanted to show her lips sucking on an oblong shape. This little affectation did not fail to make an impression on Georges, who could very well envision his own rod replacing that pen.
“Now that I think of it, Georges, you did say you wished to see your wife being taken by a man and to hear her cry out in happiness.”
He nodded in agreement.
“But, what if it weren’t just one partner, such as Sergio, who made love to her … ? If it were several, for her first time, would you mind?”
“Not at all! Quite the contrary. Well, insofar as I could take care of several female partners at once myself.”
“How presumptuous, my poor dear! You can go soft as quickly as you get hard!” Georgette interrupted.
“I think, dear Georgette, that you underestimate your husband’s abilities. You did see him in action moments ago with Mimi and me. He managed to keep it together. And if I’m not mistaken, he was already hard right after our shower, not to mention that this conversation is getting him quite excited. Isn’t that right?”
Georgette looked at her husband and brushed against his staff, which was ready to go once more. She uttered a small laugh.
“It’s wonderful, you really are a miracle worker!”
“And you haven’t seen half of it—you haven’t seen or experienced much at all! As for my previous question: Would both of you be willing to start with a large party of your new pleasure-seeking playmates?”
They were both willing, but Georgette acted like a disappointed little girl who has been denied a promised toy.
“But I would have liked so much to meet your Sergio or that Jean-Baptiste, to have them to myself!”
“Do not fret, they will be at this first session and they will take care of you, believe me.”
“In that case, what more could I ask for? Of course we’ll accept. When will that blessed day come?”
Ghislaine leafed through her diary.
Aquatic Games
The regulars at the Château des Plaisirs stood by the poolside, still amazed by the remarkable feat the marquise had just performed in the arms of Jean-Baptiste, the superbly endowed basketball player. Spectators of both sexes were naked, anxiously awaiting the outcome of this water sports competition.
Eric formally apologized to Ghislaine for ever doubting the feasibility of what she had just accomplished. The maneuver consisted of two partners, a man and a woman, diving into the pool while copulating. But the dive was immediately
followed by a swim back to the poolside under the same conditions. Madame la Marquise had just completed this challenge in the arms of her athlete, but was so worn out she laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and turned to her guests.
“How about we cancel this exceedingly tough trial? We could move on to something more relaxing in the shallow end? What do you think?”
This proposal was accepted by most—except for a few insolent malcontents who thought their youth and vigor would allow them to meet the challenge. Four athletic couples wished to give this cross between lovemaking and water sports a try.
These couples comprised of a set of twin sisters and their new, devoted knights, with whom they had only exchanged kisses and caresses, which was far from adequate as far as all four were concerned. Florence also wanted to try with Chopin, who declared himself a strong swimmer. Mireille, one of the participants in the previous nautical ballet, partnered with Louis—the tennis instructor’s only concern these days was to have his way with her, whether on foot, on horseback, on the road, on the ground, or underwater. He kept touching her mons veneris with an enthusiasm that was only matched by hers as she stroked him during conversations with their friends. They looked at each other with the vacant gaze of lovers who have just begun their physical relationship.
And so it was that four couples volunteered for the lovers’ dive, without any idea of how difficult it actually was to pull off.
Ghislaine, who didn’t want to disappoint them (though she was glad to prove to them she had been right to discourage them from trying), allowed them their attempts while laughing under her breath.
The eight partners did not feel ready for lovemaking in an upright position yet, and so they placed beach mats around the pool and began to have sex under the envious and admiring eyes of the guests clustered around them.
Watching these lovely twins uniting with their two new lovers was a moving sight indeed. How delightful it was to see these eighteen-year-old naked bodies setting out to discover those of their twenty-year-old partners!
Those four were apparently unconcerned by their admirers. Perhaps the knowledge that they were being observed only heightened their passion? Who knows? Weren’t they proud to show their elders, most of whom were at least twice their age the ardor, indeed the fury, of their frolicking?
Jean and Pierre, arms still wrapped around Sirène in her bathing suit, came closer to see how their two students, to whom they had taught so much, were putting their lessons into practice.
Uninhibited, proud to be women, both sisters were going wild. They had laid both boys on their backs with authority and had carefully observed the rods they had in hand before pumping them slowly, skillfully, cupping their balls gently. They were on their knees, backs turned to the water, facing their erstwhile instructors who looked upon them, smiling. As they sucked, they raised their lovely blue eyes toward them, seeking their approval.
Jean encouraged them to proceed further.
“Audrey, it’s time to move on to part two: Crouch on your guy, facing him, and impale yourself. That way, you’ll be ready to take the plunge. Well, almost. … He’ll have to be strong enough to lift you up. …”
The girl obeyed and slid her partner’s member into her and, holding herself up straight, began to slide up and down his shaft. The boy, his eyes wild, didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. He placed them under his rider’s lovely butt, on her breasts that bounced in sync with his thrusting, against her ass, and between her legs, searching for her clitoris between her blonde hairs.
“He’s not going to last long,” Jean opined matter-of-factly.
His brother pointed to Victoria.
She was on her back. Legs raised, her nails digging into the muscled buttocks of the man riding her, she had closed her eyes and swung her head from left to right, faster and faster.
“Oh, I’ve seen this before. She’s about to come, and he’ll follow soon after,” said Pierre with a smirk. “You can kiss the water sports good-bye after that!”
Sirène laughed. Both brothers turned toward her and kissed her one after the other. She held their rods, one in each hand, and did not even seem to notice.
The trio, peculiar entanglement that they were, took a few steps back to see how the other competitors were doing. They were surprised by the coupling of Florence and Chopin: Both were lying on their sides, and made love looking at each other straight in the eye, gently caressing one another. They exchanged light kisses on their necks, noses, and lips, like young lovers discovering each other’s bodies. It was true that Florence was only a shade older than nineteen, while Chopin, though he was thirty, had maintained a romantic disposition. Their bodies gently and subtly swayed without a hint of brutality.
Ghislaine, who came to inspect her troops, was surprised to see that this warming-up session had turned into a real lovemaking session.
Only Louis, the tennis instructor, and Mireille, the aquatic gymnast, seemed capable of holding up and meeting the marquise’s challenge. They had followed hers and Jean-Baptiste’s example, and the pretty swimmer had remained standing while Laurent Dumoulin, armed with his raging tongue, probed her shaved pussy with relish. To be fair, had the gynecologist ever been seen not enjoying a pussy? He was often moved by his patients, but would never, ever transgress the codes of his profession. Hence his wild release at the Château des Plaisirs on the weekends, licking any feminine sex that presented itself before penetrating it. So there he was, working away at this clean-shaven snatch.
Meanwhile, the two lovers Cerise and Bernadette, who never let an occasion to see to a lady go to waste, took care of the swimmer’s lips, breasts, and ass, just as they had with Ghislaine at the start of the presentation. They knew what they were doing.
Three feet away, Louis was being assaulted, as Jean-Baptiste had been, by a pack of his students. They took his member in their mouths in turns, kissed him, pinched his nipples … The tennis instructor was getting a huge hard-on, but managed to hold on to his self-control.
Ghislaine knew they would be the winners. The others, she was quite sure, were heading for a flop.
She wasn’t wrong.
Mimi, diving mask on her forehead, chewed at her snorkel as she surveyed this battlefield dedicated to Eros. She turned toward Ghislaine and removed her mouthpiece.
“Should we … before they all climax?”
“You’re quite right. Time to splash, kids!”
She ordered the couples to take their starting position.
The twins and their partners realized they now had no desire at all to take part in the game. But the marquise insisted and reminded them that it was at their specific request that she hadn’t interrupted the performance.
All four of them were about to explode. The young men tried to stand, but the girls didn’t want them to pull out. The situation was becoming difficult, if not hysterical. Some laughter and some snide remarks were heard. Pierre and Jean let go of Sirène and decided to help them. They crouched by the couples and literally rolled them to the pool’s edge, drawing even more laughter from the onlookers. They took advantage of the situation to touch the twin sisters’ firm behinds, giving them small taps as though they were punishing them for their infidelity. They then waited for the lady of the manor to give them the signal to push them into the water.
Mimi was already in the pool, wearing her mask, ready to referee.
Helped by their supporters, Louis and Mireille came closer, touching each other. Many were vying for the task of guiding his “racket” (the term he used for his penis) into the gymnast’s nether regions. There was no shortage of helping hands. Cerise raised one of Mireille’s thighs to facilitate the operation. Once the cock was in place, the young lady received help wrapping her legs around the waist of her instructor, who did everything he could not to let go of his partner.
“Mireille, if you please, wrap your arms around my neck and lean forward as much as you can. If you lean back, I’m dropping you. Put your chin on my s
houlder—yes, just like that! We’re good, Ghislaine!”
The marquise was crouched besides Florence and Chopin who kept making love in their sweet, tender way.
“Tell me, children, are you ready?”
They looked up at her, dazed. Chopin, between two moans, his head buried under Florence’s abundant red hair, managed to reply:
“We’re giving up, Ghislaine! We’re … dropping out … Forfeit …”
“I see. You aren’t abandoning us; you’re abandoning yourselves to each other. Very well, I can already pronounce you our big losers.”
“Our big winners, more like,” Florence bragged with a contented smile. “Oh, Jérôme, oh my Chopin!” she whispered, slowly swaying her hips as she checked he was still inside of her.
“Lovers are always alone in their world!” mused a fifty-year-old, tenderly.
“Yes, and I sometimes find that irritating,” Ghislaine replied, slightly annoyed.
She grabbed the whistle hanging from her neck and sounded the signal to start.
Louis and Mireille jumped into the water. The twin brothers shoved the two couples into the pool at the same time. Still welded together, they did not last for long: They had barely pierced the surface when Mimi tore off her snorkel and dedicated herself to her role as commentator, crying out: “Audrey and François—disqualified! They came apart under water! Victoria and Germain are still stuck together … but not for long!”
The former pair hadn’t consulted each other on what to do once in the water and swallowed large gulps of water. The latter pair ended up in a standing position, facing each other, but how could they stay buoyant when they couldn’t use their legs? They tried to paddle with their hands, but Germain quickly lost his strength and his swordfish floundered—Mimi lost no time making it known to the others before swimming around Louis and Mireille. They were the only ones to be still joined at the sexes. Calm, attentive, they were making their way toward the ladder.
They reached it and grabbed hold, but Louis was unable to climb the rungs while holding his partner against him the way Jean-Baptiste had done with the marquise. They were both rewarded by much applause nonetheless for their heroic attempt. As for Mimi, she announced, with her mask practically glued against their waists: “He’s still in there, he’s still in there! They’ve won, they’ve won!”
The Merry Widow Page 7
