The Afternoon Circle Jerk Society
She liked the smell of cock. She liked the feel of it on her tongue. She enjoyed kneeling between a man with his legs spread wide on a bed, licking and stroking his dick, making it hard. She liked to nuzzle her nose against the shaft, tickle the rim of the cockhead with her tongue. She even liked to take an erect penis down her throat, not to the point of gagging–polite gentlemen always backed off, but just enough to make her feel as if she was taking the man deep. She liked to feel the precum leaking out from the slit of his cock onto her ready tongue. She liked to slacken her jaw and drool over the man’s cock. Any man. Any cock.
“Let’s face it,” Drusilla said, “I love cock.”
“No kidding, Dru, you’ve told me often enough,” said Mary.
Drusilla could tell by the moue of disgust on Mary’s face and the crinkle in her upturned nose that Mary was offended once again by her obsession with the dreaded male appendage to be rather offensive.
“Mary, trust me, you’d have a ball. Actually you’d have several.” Drusilla chuckled at her double entendre.
Mary raised her eyebrows and stirred her Lapsang Souchong tea vigorously whilst smoothing a loose tendril of her dull auburn hair which had come loose from her tightly coiled bun. She knew Drusilla would never want her to be anywhere near her debauched evenings for fear she’d eclipse her or draw attention away from her. Other women in Dru’s circle had learned the hard way that Dru did not socialize with her fellow sluts. Best to play the virgin in Dru’s presence.
“The only way you’ll ever get me to attend is to tie me up and gag me, Drusilla Mariculas Peters.”
Mary Elizabeth Bradshaw slammed her spoon down so hard against the china saucer that it caused several patrons of Lavinia’s Tea Emporium, EST. 1918, to cringe.
“Toots, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome here. After all, it is the twenty first century, you know. I’m not sure these old gits realize it though,” Dru said as she cast her eyes about the beautifully appointed tea room with its silver samovars, a grand piano in the corner, Persian rugs on the floors and portraits by Renoir and Monet on the walls. Drusilla loathed the place.
“I know you hate it here, Dru, but it’s my favourite and you know that too.” Mary sulked and scowled as she watched Dru pour the tea that had slopped over into her saucer back into the cup. Mary dabbed at the sweat on her upper lip with the linen napkin. “Your manners, Drusilla, are deplorable. Where is Martin to keep you in line, as he always does?”
“I sent him off to purchase my corset for this afternoon’s adventures. Why are you so interested in Martin all of a sudden?”
Mary blushed and cast her eyes downward.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I simply want you to behave.”
“I’m much better mannered on my knees with men’s dicks in my mouth, honey bun.”
The two paid separate bills and went their separate ways. Mary to her grandmama’s townhouse on Scaltago Hill to practice her arpeggios and Drusilla to her mansion to get ready for the afternoon’s fun.
Dru’s man dug his knee into her back as he tied her corset laces as tight as he could possible tie them.
“Tighter, Martin,” Dru groaned through gritted teeth. Martin felt as if he was hogtying a sow. He’d been in Miss Drusilla’s service now since she’d come of age five years ago. To the other staff he referred to her as a spinster slut and they all laughed, but he would never do so to her face. He catered to her every whim. Including the most lascivious tasks, such as taking part in the Afternoon Circle Jerk Society, which took place on Tuesday afternoons on the second week of every month and began like clockwork at exactly 2:04 p.m.
His favourite duty was to accompany her to her regular teas with Mary Elizabeth Bradshaw, granddaughter of Sir Albus Bradshaw, the richest industrialist in the entire region. Martin found her quite beautiful and well-mannered. He often wondered what would happen if she let herself lose control.
One morning he’d had to go to her dwelling to drop off a pair of leather gloves she’d left behind while visiting Miss Drusilla. Her maid had assumed she wasn’t home, so let him enter her bedroom. He came upon Miss Mary lying on her bed, stroking herself and moaning. She’d sworn him to secrecy. After the two of them had fallen upon each other like wolves. She told him Miss Dru was impossibly jealous and would be very angry if she knew about their assignation. In fact, any indication that she was as randy as Drusilla would cause Drusilla to drop her socially. This was a hypocritical attitude but Martin knew exactly what Mary meant. Dru did not socialize with the women of the Society.
Still this didn’t stop the two of them from meeting every chance they got to exercise Mary’s talented mouth and Martin’s wonderful wang. Not to mention the fucking. They did it in every position. He sucked her pretty well too. Never had either one met anyone else with such an appetite for sex and such creative orgasmic abilities. It wasn’t long before the two of them had fallen in love.
Martin had a prodigious member and while he was happy to comply with Miss Drusilla’s demands to participate in her licentious activities, he felt oddly shy around the other ladies and gentlemen of the Society. After all he’d seen all their pussies, peckers and been party to their peccadilloes. He’d witnessed the men rogering Miss Drusilla and her friends. He’d even had his own member down the throat of Miss Dru. The thought of it made him randy as a dog. It was alarming. He let his mind wander to the ladies of the Society. There was something about them that made Martin want to forget decorum, pull down his pants, push them to their knees and make them suck his cock.
“I see that look in your eyes, Marty, my boy. You’ll get your chance,” Drusilla said.
The grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway chimed two p.m. Drusilla grabbed one of several silk robes hanging in the wardrobe. She wore no underwear and no other clothes or adornments except for a set of fake black eyelashes and ruby red lipstick. This makeup wasn’t for any fashion, but rather so that she looked alluring from above and so that she could stain a man’s cock with her crimson pout, leave her mark, so to speak. The other item she wore was a pair of black leather stilettos with a ruby on the ankle strap of each one. The ruby glinted as she walked down the grand oak staircase, draping her fingers over the highly polished banister, her mouth open in readiness for the men who awaited her at the bottom of the stairs.
Charles McGee was the first in line, of course. He was such an eager young hound, the brother of a classmate at college. She dropped the classmate, but invited the brother to the Society after their dalliance in the women’s locker room had revealed a prodigious tool that she adored toying with.
Darren Scofield stood quaking beside him, not that he wasn’t eager, but Dru suspected he was a virgin. She adored his long black locks that went almost to shoulder level and his dark wild eyes. But best of all she wanted that virgin cock inside her. After she’d made it good and stiff, of course. And especially after she had swallowed the cum of all the other gentlemen, so-called, in the room or taken it on her breasts, ass, back and face.
Michael Angel smiled broadly. He never missed a meeting of the Society. He hadn’t particularly done anything remarkable yet, nor was his cock anything special, but it was another dick to suck. And me helped make up the numbers. Often there were more women than men. Drusilla preferred the number of men to outnumber the women thereby ensuring a higher ratio of cum per orifice and body part.
Richard Carnegie glowered at the end of the line of horny gentlemen. He always scowled so much that Drusilla didn’t understand why he came at all. She liked to suck him though. He had deliciously large balls that generated a never-ending supply of cum.
Martin was there too, of course, following her down the stairs and taking his place at the end of the assortment of rogues. She liked the way he bowed and scraped.
The Society held its meetings in the parlour, a delightful room sandwiched between the great hall and the dining room. Some Society meetings were so well attended that they had to move to the great hall, but on that particular afternoon, it was a small group of dedicated adherents.
The other ladies waiting in the parlour, naked and on their knees, their mouths open in readiness.
Matilde Hawthorn had great tits and Suzanne Devilliers had a heart-shaped ass and Betty Ann Rutgers could hold her breath and deep throat a man for ages, but Drusilla was the one the men wanted the most because of her insatiable appetite for cock and her ability to make a man come with her hand job, tongue, mouth, nose and throat combination, known as the Drusilla Deadlock.
Drusilla walked to the other women who were in the middle of the floor on their knees. The carpets had been removed to avoid having to get it cleaned yet again. The poor thing was wearing out with all the cum spilled on it month after month. In the gaggle of sluts was a woman Drusilla didn’t recognize. The woman was wearing a mask.
She was gorgeous with her long red hair cascading down her back. Her body was slim with small teats and narrow hips. Her bush had a light smattering of red hair and her skin was pale as a sheet of paper. Her lips were full and open. Her tongue hung out. She looked a bit like a hungry ginger cat.
On occasion, ladies and gentlemen were allowed to participate anonymously in the Society’s activities as long as they signed a waiver to keep secret the names of the other participants and the goings on of the Society. The scandal would be outrageous. The last thing Drusilla wanted was to be disowned. Her papa paid her a rather hefty allowance and she couldn’t imagine what she would do without it. Who would keep her in parasols, silk robes, champagne and occasional jaunts to international houses of debauchery?
Drusilla greeted the masked woman with a nod of her chin, but otherwise said nothing. The Society insisted on absolute silence at their meetings, except for the occasional moan of ecstasy. There were no minutes, no agenda, no calls to order, no motions carried or denied. The members simply got down to business.
The men removed their shoes and their trousers and underpants, but left their shirts, ties and jackets on. The ladies struck their poses on the floor on their knees, their mouths, hands and bodies ready to be used. Kinky statues that came alive at the site of a cock. The men chose the mouths of their choice or the bodies, if you will. Most of the activities involved oral sex, hand jobs and jerking off onto the naked mouths and bodies of the young women, but on occasion, if any party expressed a desire for a full fuck, there were divans scattered around the room and Ming vases full of condoms and bottles of lube at the ready.
Dru found it fascinating to note that Martin headed for the masked woman straight away. Soon enough she had her face stuck in his crotch and was giving him a most satisfying tongue job. Both parties groaned often.
Dru’s mouth was occupied with Darren’s dick while Matilde and Suzanne were being showered with cum by the glowering Richard, his face continuing to scowl even as he was coming all over Matilde’s tits and Suzanne’s ass.
Betty Anne and Michael had repaired immediately to a divan in the east corner of the parlour and were heading into a full anal fuck, Michael was spreading lube on his finger while Betty Anne held apart her lovely dimpled ass cheeks for him while blushing in a most becomingly bashful way.
It wasn’t long before Dru’s lips, tongue, fingers combination had elicited a beautiful cum shower all over her body, making it glisten. She led Darren over to a divan where she proceeded to mount his prick which was still gloriously hard.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the masked woman, who now had all the men surrounding her while they jerked off on her tits, back and ass while she was on all fours. She was frigging herself furiously and moaning.
Drusilla had a funny feeling that the masked woman was familiar but couldn’t put her finger on it. Anyway her fingers were distracted. One of them was up Darren’s tight ass while another tweaked his nipples to make him squeal. This made his cock even harder as it throbbed inside Drusilla’s hungry cunt. In other words, she forgot all about her curiosity about the masked woman and came hard on Darren’s dong.
Soaking in the tub afterward, Drusilla thought again of the masked woman. Her body, even her moans were familiar. She quizzed Martin about it as he washed her back.
“Martin, who was that masked woman?”
“Your own rules, Miss Drusilla, make me obligated to maintain her anonymity.”
Frustrated, Dru swatted Martin with her loofah, covering his suit in lavender-scented bubbles. She took a gulp of Cristal.
“I’m fascinated that you went straight to her, Martin. I wonder why that was. You normally hang back and wait until all the other men have chosen their damsels, but today you were surprisingly assertive. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Martin plunged a bamboo dipper into the tub and poured the hot water over Drusilla’s back, causing her to sigh.
Later that night, Martin made a furtive call to Mary.
“Did she suspect it was me?”
“Not at all, Mary. My god, I was so hard with your mouth around my cock. And I want to see you on your knees with other men’s pricks down your throat. You are such a great cock sucker, even better than Miss Dru.”
Drusilla, who had every phone in the mansion bugged, listened in outrage.
The next day at tea, Drusilla cut her cucumber sandwiches into tiny portions, sliding the knife through each crust as if the small sharp implement were a guillotine.
Mary fretted the whole time, crumpling her napkin, dropping her teaspoon.
“Mary, for heaven’s sake. You’re making me edgy,” Drusilla said. She cut their tea short and went home with Martin who had been standing to the side the entire time, shifting his weight.
“She knows, Martin,” Mary said to him on the phone later that night. “What shall we do?”
Neither of them were particularly good at scheming, but Drusilla was. She organized a contest for the next meeting of the Afternoon Tea Society. The winner would receive a chance to meet the actor and star of the Edwardian Drama, “Well-Manicured Hands,” Milo DeMyle. She knew that Mary was a huge fan of the actor’s and wouldn’t be able to resist the contest.
The goal was to get the most cum on one’s body in an hour. The judge would be the king of lechery, Dr. Alfred Pustley, the founding member of the Society in 1975. This monacled geezer was a fellatio purist. He would insist that the women did not touch the men’s parts for the duration of the contest except with their mouths. All women would have their hands tied behind their backs and would be blindfolded and prone on the divans on either their backs or their stomachs. The men could dip their dicks into the women’s mouths but had to stroke off onto the bodies and faces of the women in order for their cum to be valid. The woman whose body was the most cum-covered would win.
Drusilla was absolutely right, Mary couldn�t resist the contest. Even when Martin told her it was dangerous, that he suspected Drusilla knew the identity of the masked woman and was using the opportunity only to unmask her.
Alas Mary was blinded by her lust for Milo, and in fact, all she wanted to do was prostrate herself on her knees before him and suck the jism out of him while he called her nasty names. She wanted to be the actor’s bitch.
The afternoon was upon them. Drusilla was not allowed to apply her signature lipstick. All parties were to be naked. This wasn’t strictly necessary but old Alfred, the judge, took his perversions seriously and would probably jerk off while watching the scene.
The most important repercussion of the rules was that Mary wouldn’t be able to wear her mask. Martin took the morning off to spend with Mary, who trembled in fear and in desire.
“I know I shouldn’t go, but I can’t resist the chance to finally be with Milo,” she said as she practiced her technique by rubbing her face over Martin’s nether regions.
He groaned and grunted his way to orgasm over her and this caused them both to need a shower. They ended up being late so Drusilla and the rest were already in the parlour sucking or being sucked, cocks hardening and shooting cum.
Mary took her place on a divan as far away from Drusilla as possible. One woman was disqualified when a man rubbed his cock over her tied hands to let her caress him with her fingers. Another one was eliminated from the contest when she yelled out the word “fuck” when two men came all over her back, another rule, the rule of silence, was broken.
Soon only two cum-covered women were left, Drusilla and Mary.
Drusilla cast her angry eyes at Mary whose face, stomach and breasts were dripping with cum. Finally the judge blew a horn and the contest was over.
Pustley examined the two cum-laden women. Dru had been on her back while Mary was on her stomach. The cum was copious on both of their bodies. It pooled in the small of Dru’s back and dripped from the tips of Mary’s nipples. Mary had a lovely pearl necklace while Dru had dots of cum sprinkled on her spine.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “we have a tie. Drusilla Mariculas Peters and Mary Elizabeth Bradshaw shall both meet Milo DeMyle.”
The men clapped. Dru and Mary cleaned up in separate bathrooms, but Dru met Mary in the hallway.
“I have to say, even I was impressed by your performance, Mary.”
“You aren’t angry?”
“No. In fact I’ll give you the win. You can have Milo if you promise never to see Martin again.”
Mary, unbeknownst to Martin, wasn’t contrary, but rather flaky. She readily agreed to the terms of the agreement and spent the duration of her marriageable years following Milo around like a lapdog and being used for his pleasure.
Drusilla continued to hold meeting of the Afternoon Circle Jerk Society on the second Tuesday of every month at 2:04 p.m. precisely, but she no longer drank tea.
Martin was fired and replaced with a butler with a bigger cock.
© 2013 Amanda Earl. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Amanda Earl’s erotic fiction has been published in several Cleis Press anthologies edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and also appears in the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica and numerous other anthologies. Earl is a member of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association. For more information, please visit AmandaEarl.com.