Anonymous - The Oyster Volume V

Bacon brought in some sandwiches and champagne, which went down perhaps a little too well as between us we managed to finish the best part of two bottles of my best Scotch whisky even before we began to eat. I freely admit that I was having a slight problem distinguishing spades from clubs and diamonds from hearts for frankly, I have never been a great imbiber and am unable to consume the vast amounts of alcohol that Messrs Walsh and Gibson, for example, can enjoy without any apparent ill-effects.

I well remember, however, that I was dealing out the cards when Bacon threw open the door and announced the arrival of Lady Paula Platts-Lane. I rose somewhat unsteadily to greet her along with the other three gentlemen and I apologised most profusely for having double-booked the evening.

'Oh, don't worry, Larry,' said Paula brightly. 'We would never have been able to go to the concert and I'm quite tired with all the talking this afternoon. You see, some of us girls are going to start up a ladies' club in Belgravia to rival some of your wretched men-only institutions.'

'I trust you do not plan to exclude men from this new establishment,' commented John Walsh, his eyes roving over Paula's wavy brown hair, her attractive face, slim figure, well rounded, firm breasts and long, shapely legs. 'Alas, our club committee will not countenance a lady being introduced into the place.'

'No, we are not so blinkered as the members of the Rawalpindi,' smiled Paula. 'Men will be allowed inside our club, but strictly by invitation only.'

I finished dealing the cards but none of us made to pick any up. Like my three friends I was staring unashamedly at Paula's cream-coloured blouse which was made of such a flimsy material that it was quite transparent and we could easily make out the outline of her large, heavy breasts for she was wearing nothing underneath it, and despite my somewhat dazed state, my prick began to stir as I gazed upon her dark, swollen nipples that pressed against their thin covering.

Paula knew full well what we were staring at but she said nothing except to tell us to finish our game. Slowly and unwillingly we picked up our cards and tried hard to concentrate upon bridge and to banish the sight of Paula's titties from our brains. It was a most difficult feat to accomplish and Sir Lionel, who is generally considered to be amongst the best players in London, unnecessarily trumped John Walsh's winning ten of diamonds whilst I foolishly neglected to cover Jock Gibson's queen of hearts with the king. In normal circumstances such plays would have brought forth cries of rage from the wronged partners, but our minds were no longer on the game.

Indeed, play slowed to a complete halt when Paula said: 'Hasn't it been a warm day, gentlemen? Larry, you do keep this room far too warm. I do declare that you must have also forgotten to instruct Bacon not to light a fire in the hearth.'

With a gleam in his eye Sir Lionel suggested that perhaps she might like to take off some clothes. 'Some clothes, Lionel?' echoed Jock Gibson. 'All of them, more like. How about it, Paula?'

She said nothing but looked the gallant Scottish soldier straight in the eye as she undid the buttons on her blouse and slowly peeled it off. If Bacon was listening at the keyhole (a habit which is endemic in many servants) he must have heard the collective intake of breath as we were given full view of her nude breasts that jutted out proudly, the large titties pouting lasciviously as she caressed her delicious globes, rubbing the nipples up to a stalky firmness.

Then she quickly undid her ankle-length skirt and we gasped as she let it fall to the floor. She was wearing only the briefest of frilly lace knickers and after she stepped out of the skirt which lay on my Persian carpet, she sidled up to Jock and in a tantalising whisper said to him: 'Well, Jock, do you like what you see? Is your Caledonian cock rising in your drawers? If you'll pull down my knickers I'll show you that even an empty whisky bottle has its uses for a clever girl.'

'This promises to be interesting if my guess at what Paula has in mind is correct,' grinned Sir Lionel lewdly.

'Wait and see,' she replied throatily. 'Larry, be an angel and play a little light music on the piano to get me in the mood.'

You are already in the mood, Paula, I thought to myself as I acceeded to her request. What should I play? Brahms, perhaps, or maybe Lizst? No, let it be Beethoven, I decided as I knew how fond she was of his music. I struck up the chords of the beautiful Appassionata and this certainly set Paula off. She danced sensuously around the room before sitting on the sofa with the empty bottle in her hand. Then she slowly leaned backwards, her legs pressed tightly together and she caressed the neck of the bottle with her lips and tongue. Then she moved it lower, running it over her breasts and snow-white tummy before moving it even lower to cut a path through her thick brown bush of curly hair at the base of her belly.

Then she moaned and opened her legs so that we saw her pouting pink pussey lips appear and she moved the bottle between them, pressing the neck gently into her pussey, frigging herself off with it, sliding it in and out of her dampening cunney. This stimulating sight sent Jock Gibson's blood boiling and in a trice he had stripped naked, and holding his stiff shaft in his hand he padded over to the couch. He leaned over Paula to massage her lovely big breasts and she lifted her head to press her mouth over the bulging uncapped knob of his thick prick.

The sight of the beautiful girl holding Jock's cock while she lustily sucked his balls drove us wild and my hands left the keyboard to tear wildly at my trouser buttons so that I could release my huge erection that was threatening to burst through the crotch of my trousers. Sir Lionel was the first however to divest himself fully of his clothes and he sunk to his knees between Paula's legs and firmly removed the bottle that had been sliding in and out of her pussey and replaced it with his tongue as he licked and lapped at her juicy quim, his nose buried in her mossy mount.

'Now, Lionel, that's enough of your tongue — stick that thick prick up my cunt, there's a dear fellow,' cried Paula, her lips temporarily leaving the glistening shaft of Jock Gibson's meaty cock. 'I want it all. Oh, Lionel, please fuck me!'

As befitted a gentleman and a scholar, Sir Lionel raised-his head to her titties and lapped at them in turn as the excited girl took hold of his throbbing tool and guided it herself, inserting the uncapped knob into the welcoming folds of her cunney. At the same time, Paula resumed sucking Jock's veiny staff, noisily slurping away as he fucked her mouth, his slippery shaft almost fully between her red lips, so that his knob must have been almost touching her tonsils.

She wriggled merrily as Lionel pumped his raging shaft in and out of her sodden cunney. Paula bucked and twisted, all the while urging the randy baronet to thrust deeper, deeper as she raised her elegant legs and wrapped them behind his broad shoulders. Cupped now in his palms, her tight little bum cheeks rotated savagely as he pushed in, pushed out and pushed back again, his balls slapping against her bottom.

John Walsh reached this lewd trio just seconds before me and Paula grasped his erect penis with her right hand leaving me to stand alongside Jock Gibson so that she could clasp her fourth cock, which was standing high against my belly, with her left hand. 'This is better than bridge,' declared John and we all chorused our agreement except for Paula, whose mouth was still engorged with Jock's huge cock, but she managed to nod her head slightly in agreement.

What a tableau greeted Bacon as he wheeled in a trolley of assorted sandwiches! There in front of his astonished eyes were Lady Paula naked on the Chesterfield being fucked by Sir Lionel as she fellated Jock Gibson whilst frigging John Walsh and myself with her hands.