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Licked Out

All around the room couples were now turning to each other to finish what Sammy and the tall girl had helped them prolong and heighten.

Johnnie's wife was kneeling on the sofa now. One man was kneeling up behind her, fucking her, while she took another man's penis in her mouth.

But I couldn't concentrate on Josh. Guilt and concern for Sammy got the better of me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I've got to go and see how she is."

Josh shrugged. I left the attic, not bothering to put my clothes on. Everyone seemed to be naked now.

I met Sammy on the landing, she had just come up from the kitchen - she was looking for Paula. The tears were still streaming down her face, she was very upset.

We found Paula in the master bedroom. She was spread-eagled on the bed, her wrists and ankles tied to the four posts. Martin lay on his back beside her, fast asleep.

Sammy rushed in and clambered onto the bed beside Paula, snuggling up to her. She ignored Martin.

"There there, my baby," Paula said to soothe her.

Sammy was struggling to free her hands from the cuffs that still bound her. She was looking at me, her eyes imploring me to undo them for her.

"Can I undo them for her?" I found myself asking Paula.

Paula nodded. I undid Sammy's wrists. Sammy wrapped her arms around Paula, clinging to her, her tears subsiding now.

Martin had woken up. He looked guilty and unsure what to do or say.

Paula said to Sammy, "I've been having sex with Martin for you. He's a dear boy. I might even put you with him one day." Then to me she said, "Such stamina! I thought he would never finish!"

Stamina indeed. So this was Paula's turn on. Being spread-eagled and having Sammy's boyfriend.

"Sammy, untie me would you," Paula said when Sammy had stopped crying.

Sammy undid Paula's bonds.

"I need a wash," Paula said. And with that she sat on the edge of the bed. "Get on the floor, Sammy, lick Martin's spunk out of me."

Sammy was down between Paula's legs in a trice, lapping at Paula's leaking sex. Sammy seemed much happier now she was being loved.

While Sammy lapped at her, Paula asked me if I had enjoyed myself, and she suggested I try Martin. Martin, I noticed, had incredibly got yet another erection. I politely declined Paula's kind offer. I winked conspiratorially at Martin.

"That'll do, Sammy," Paula said. "Come here, let's have a nice cuddle."

Martin and I left them lying in each other's arms kissing and fondling. Sammy was as happy as could be.

I took Martin upstairs. He couldn't believe the scene up there. People doing it in all sorts of ways to all sorts of people.

A redheaded girl was kneeling in front of Josh sucking his cock. I leant down and whispered in her ear. She looked up at Martin and nodded. I whispered to her some more as she continued to suck Josh. I told her Martin had been a virgin until this evening, but she was not to let on she knew that. I asked her to do whatever she had to do to make sure she came when Martin made love to her.

She got up and took a surprised Martin in hand and led him over to a bed.

"Josh," I said. "Come and sit down in this chair. I want you to come in my mouth."

Josh readily complied.

I knelt between his knees and took his cock into my mouth. His cock was so fat it filled my mouth completely. I flicked my tongue from side to side under the head, at the same time feeling his balls with my hand. I think he must have been close to coming with the redhead because it was not long before I could feel him tensing, and hear him panting. I was going to feel it, I was going to feel semen ejaculating into my mouth for the first time in my life. I tried to concentrate so I could fully savour the experience. Josh gave a final jerk and then it came.

The sheer force of the semen hitting the roof of my mouth caught me by surprise. It streamed down my throat. I gagged. Coughing and spluttering I took his cock from my mouth, only to receive his second and third spurts over my face.

I felt a hand patting my back as I choked. Then more hands on my back. I looked over my shoulder. There were six girls around me. Now their hands were everywhere! On my breasts, stroking my back, in the cleft of my bottom, around my sex, in my sex. Johnnie was standing, arms folded, looking on.

"Happy birthday, Jeanie," he said.

The girls rolled me over onto my back. Somebody kissed me deeply, her tongue meeting mine. My breasts were being kneaded, stroked, my nipples sucked. I felt a mouth on my sex, a soft tongue on my clitoris. I felt fingers enter my sex, my thighs being stroked, a finger probing my anus. There were too many sensations to be able to separate and experience them individually.

I looked up and saw that it was Johnnie's wife who was performing cunnilingus on me. And how expertly! I lay back, letting everything relax. I closed my eyes and soaked up the pleasure all those hands and tongues were overwhelming me with.

I came to orgasm with Johnnie's wife's tongue inside me. Even then I did not want to stop, I wanted this to go on.

Someone produced a huge vibrator. I was turned over and positioned on all fours. I felt the vibrator being forced deliciously into me. Hands were playing with every part of me. I felt something enter my anus. Something small. As it slid in I felt it was ribbed. Then it started to vibrate too. Oh God, the sheer wanton pleasure of all this!

One of the girls was lying on the floor sucking my hanging nipples. Another girl was lying between my legs, and as Johnnie's wife moved those two vibrators with such superb effect the girl flicked the tip of her tongue to and fro across my clitoris. I could feel another tongue in the cleft of my bottom, running down to where the little vibrator entered me, then up between my buttocks then down again. A girl was sitting astride my back massaging my shoulders. Another girl was lying on her back in front of me. Her legs were wide apart and she was masturbating herself, watching me watching her.

When I came, the ribbed vibrator was pulled out of my bottom, even as I was in the throes of a wonderful orgasm. And the pleasure that that gave me as I felt its ribs popping out of me as I came was glorious.

I slumped down onto the carpet, spent. Johnnie lay beside my inert frame and stroked me. He kissed me.

"Happy birthday, Jeanie," he said again.

The action seemed to have finished. People started to drift off. A few went home, most stayed. Johnnie and I slept in a bed together. Some slept many to a bed. Others slept on the sofas. People used the exposed lavatory to pee, careless of being observed.

In the morning there was a scene of devastation in the attic. Bodies half covered in duvets, clothes strewn everywhere. When I came round Johnnie was gone. In the far corner I could see two girls in the shower. A man was soaking in the bath - a girl got in with him. People were picking over clothes trying to find something of their own to put on. The only people I saw having sex were Martin and the redhead who were energetically humping away under the blankets.

I had a bath with a girl who had been one of the six who had been so nice to me the previous evening.

I followed the smell of bacon to the kitchen. Sammy was at the cooker.

"Bacon and eggs?" she asked brightly.

Hungry people in various states of dress or undress were tucking into breakfast, sitting at the table or balancing a plate on their knees.

Each time Sammy handed someone food they kissed her on the cheek and gave her a little cuddle. Sammy looked radiant. I kissed her when my food was ready and gave her arm a friendly squeeze.

Roger Freeman came in and apologised that he hadn't been able to join us the night before, but something had come up, business. "Next time I'll make up for it," he said.

I wondered who would clear up all the mess in the bedrooms and the attic - and shampoo the attic carpet. Later, Paula told me that Roger hired contract cleaners to do the job - what must they think?

Before I left I took a few phone numbers, and gave mine to anyone who asked for it.

I said goodbye to Johnnie and thanked him for getting me invited. I asked him if I'd see him soon. 'Perhaps' was all he said.

I took Sammy to one side and said that if she ever needed a safe haven I would always be there. She laughed and said she had the perfect life as she was, but she thanked me all the same.

I found Roger Freeman and thanked him for the party.

He said, "I'll see you next month at the Parish Council. I think I've got that site you wanted for the scouts."

"Thank you," I said. "I'll try not to blush."

I wrapped my coat protectively around me and ventured back into the outside world.



For two weeks after the party I felt no need for sex. I spend most waking hours reliving it. I did see Roger Freeman at the Parish Council meeting - nobody would ever have guessed that we had both been party to such an experience. It made me wonder how many other people round that table also had dark secrets that one would never suspect.

Weeks went by. Winter was setting in. I began to feel the itch once more. I had all those phone numbers, but didn't like to call them, I don't know why.

I revisited my shady petrol station and bought some magazines. I had decided to have a party of my own.

I answered eleven advertisements. While I awaited the first replies I also rang Sotheby's to see what had happened to their valuer. A very helpful lady put me through to the wine department where a polite gentleman apologised that I had not been contacted and promised to look into it immediately.

I discovered that when you answer many advertisements you need to keep track of who is who. I hadn't. When the first person rang I had no idea which she was. The wife of the voyeur? The girl pictured wearing a muzzle?

I told her I was thinking of having a party and wanted to invite people who did not know each other, would she be interested?

She was rather off hand, but said she might. I explained that I wanted to meet everyone first, socially, to get to know what they liked - what did she like and could we meet?

She said that she was 'in to flashing'. Ah, the exhibitionist. We agreed to meet in a pub.

And so it was that I found myself arriving for the first of the selection interviews on a wet and windy night in a country pub. I felt daring, like a private detective. I got a thrill just from being there.

I recognised her car and parked beside it. I couldn't see much of her in the dark, but we greeted each other and headed for the pub's welcoming warmth.

I bought us a drink and we sat down. She was in her mid twenties, brunette and quite slim. More was hard to discern as she wore a long sheepskin coat wrapped tightly around her against the cold and damp.

After a few pleasantries I reminded her I was thinking of having a party and wanted to know what each person liked so I could select compatible people. I asked her what she liked.

She was a little put off by my questioning I think, but she said, "Flashing mostly."

"Flashing?" I said. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant.

"You know," she said by way of explanation.

I didn't. I looked at her buttoned up tight to the neck, she didn't seem to be someone who enjoyed showing off her body.

When I persisted with my questioning she became a little agitated.

"Flashing," she said. "You know, flashing."

Her command of the English language could have been wider. Then in a final fling at an explanation she said, "there's nothing underneath, you know."

Did she mean she was wearing nothing under her coat? It didn't seem likely on such a cold evening in such a public place.

"Nothing under your coat?" I said.

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"That's it," she replied.

I tried not to look surprised.

"I'll show you if you want," she said.

I had visions of her opening her coat for the whole pub to see her charms.

"In the ladies," she added.

Now, why did that suggestion give me quite a sexual charge?

"No, no," I said. "I believe you."

I explained I was going to hold a party for young people at which I would dictate events for my own delectation - I had to explain delectation to her - and no, I didn't know yet what was going to happen. Anyway, she said she was game for anything.

As we spoke I noticed her undo the bottom button of her coat. The next button, still fastened, was at waist level. Her legs were crossed, but her coat worked its way open to reveal more and more thigh. Then suddenly as I was speaking she uncrossed and crossed her legs, giving me a fleeting glimpse of her sex.

I don't know why that should excite me after all I had seen and done in the past few months, but it did. She was looking straight at me with a look of satisfaction in her eyes.

I said, "You enjoyed that, didn't you."

"Uhuh," she replied. "Did you?"

I had to be honest. "Strangely," I said, "I did, yes."

"Jean," she said. "Then I would like to come to your party. Think up something dirty for me to do, anything, anything so long as people are watching me. Will you ring me?"

"Yes, I will," I said.

And with that our meeting was over. She got up, quite careless whether her coat might or might not fall open and reveal her nakedness.

Well, that was one. How many did I need for my soir?e?

Before I had had a chance to interview anyone else I had a phone call. It was a Mr Vine. Sotheby's had asked him to view some wine I had for sale, when would be convenient for him to call?

He came round next day. Mr Vine was about my age, a little older perhaps, a tanned, fit gentleman.

"Please, call me Gerald," he said. He apologised that he was a bit pushed for time, so could we start straight away? We went down to the cellar.

As he started to look at the names on the boxes of wine and pull bottles from the racks to study their labels he began to warm to his task.

"Do you want to sell it all?" he asked.

"It's no use to me," I said. "So it might as well all be sold. Perhaps I'll keep a few bottles for entertaining, but that's all."

"Forgive me for asking, but are you selling it to liberate funds?"

How delicately put. But I wasn't hard up. "No, not really."

"Uhha." He looked at several more bottles. "I don't suppose you have a cellar book do you?"

"There's this." I pulled open the drawer of the little table and took Harry's notebook out of its protective plastic bag.

Gerald sat down and opened the notebook with great care. He soon became engrossed.

"This is magnificent," he said. "Did you accompany your husband on these trips?"

"Most of them. We used to have two holidays a year on the continent, and we'd always come back with several boxes of wine."

"Yes, and bought at the chateau," he said looking at the notebook. "Your husband was a meticulous man."

I offered Gerald a cup of tea which he readily accepted. I left him to read Harry's notebook.

When I came back he was still absorbed.

"That was quick," he said.

I had been at least half an hour. Harry was like that, when he was writing up the notebook he lost all sense of time.

"What do you think, then?" I asked.

Gerald took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, you have quite a treasure house here. You've been collecting for what, thirty years?" He paused. "May I make a recommendation?"

"Of course," I said.

"Well, some of the wine is ready to drink now, some, frankly, is a little over the hill, but still very good wine. However, some will improve for five, ten, even another thirty years. If you don't need the cash now my advice would be to keep the wine that will improve. You have ideal storage conditions here, and the wine will appreciate a lot faster than money in a building society. And be tax free."

This seemed like honest advice. I trusted this man.

"I'll be guided by you," I said. "How much do you think I should sell now?"

"Well, I'll need to do a bit more work of course, but I would think about two thirds could be sold now and a third should be kept. If I could borrow the book for a few days I could make a detailed recommendation and give a valuation. I assume nothing has been removed from the cellar since your husband passed away?"

"No. Oh, well, two bottles actually, but that's all."

I was apprehensive about Gerald taking the cellar book away, it was a part of Harry.

He saw this. "I promise I will take great care of it," he said. "I know how much sentimental value these things have." He carefully replaced it in its plastic bag.

I nodded. He could take the notebook. "Do you have a rough idea how much it's worth?" I asked.

"Well, it does depend upon the auction of course, but I would say, oh, you should raise in the region of, ooh I don't know, sixty thousand?"

"Sixty thousand pounds!" I had no idea the wine was worth anything like that.

"Oh yes, your husband knew what he was doing, he bought well, very well. And he bought shrewdly, some of these cases he bought for under a hundred pounds are now worth thousands. And of course when you come to sell the remaining third in years to come that should raise, well, another forty thousand I should think, at least. And that's at today's prices.

Another forty thousand! That was a hundred thousand pounds in all. I was flabbergasted.

At the front door Gerald bid me farewell and turned to walk down the path. But he stopped and came back.

"Ahem, forgive me," he said. "But I don't suppose you would care to have dinner with me one evening, would you?"

I must have looked surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have been so presumptuous."

"No, no, really. Yes, I'd like to, thank you."

"Tell you what," he said, "I'll get to work on this, do a provisional sale list, then perhaps I could come and review with you on Friday, and then we could go on for dinner, if you are free that is?"

"I would be delighted," I said.

Gerald came back on Friday with a neatly produced list of wines he recommended I sell, with a valuation of each. It came to just over seventy thousand pounds. He took care to put the cellar book back in its place in the cellar table drawer.

I asked whether he got commission on the sale. He said he didn't, but was paid a fee by Sotheby's for preparing the list - it was really just a hobby. He was a wine importer by trade, semi-retired now. I asked him which of all the wines I was selling was the best, his favourite.

"Well now, those are two quite different questions. The Latour '56 is probably the best wine you've got, but my favourite at the moment is, oh, perhaps the Haut-Bages Liberal '86. It just suits my taste."

"And how much have I got of that?" I asked.

"Well, let me see now..." He consulted his neat list. "Two cases."

"Good," I said. "They're yours."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly," he protested.

We compromised. He accepted one case, thanking me effusively.

He drove me in his Jaguar to a restaurant beside the river. He ordered an expensive bottle of vintage champagne to thank me for my generous gift. It was wasted on me, but I told him it was wonderful, which I am sure it was. He was quite charming.

When he dropped me at home I invited him in for coffee, but he declined saying he had an early morning flight to Frankfurt to see a shipper. He wondered if we could do this again sometime. I tried not to appear too eager, and we arranged a date for the following week.

The next week he did come in for coffee. We had our first kiss as he left.

The next time we met we slept together. And no, I wouldn't dream of telling you about it. At breakfast he said he thought it would be a good idea if I met his family. He had a son and daughter, John and Caroline. He invited me to spend the following weekend with him. He'd see if his children could make it and would give me a ring.

He rang a few days later. His phone call chilled my blood.

"Jean," he had said. "The kids can make it, they're coming over on Saturday morning. John's bringing his girlfriend Becky."

John and Becky! Oh my God! What was I to do? I had no way to get in touch with them in time.

"Jean," Gerald had said, "are you still there?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, I..."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, really. I've just got out of the bath, I must have got out too fast," I lied.

"Well sit down, old thing, can't have you keeling over."

"I'm fine, really." I said I would see him on Friday evening.

I'd be calm of course when I met John and Becky. But what would their reaction be? And if Gerry realised they knew me, how would we explain? I had visions of it being like one of those films in which people make up explanations which are contradictory then have to invent further stories to explain away the contradictions.

But the following day John rang me. "Jean? It is you, isn't it? You and Dad?"

"Oh, John, I'm so glad you rang."

"I didn't think there could be two Jeans with a case of Lafite in their cellar. What are we going to do?"

"Just pretend we've never met. Can you two manage that?" I said.

"Yes. That's what we thought."

I was relieved he was being so sensible.

"Do you mind, about me and your father?" I said.

"Mind? No, I think it's great. I haven't seen him so happy in years. Was it you or the wine he fell for? You must have two of the most compatible wine cellars ever."

"Oh, get away with you," I said.

Gerry's house was beautiful. He had very good taste.

John and Becky were as good as gold. Becky was so demure you would never have guessed. Gerry's daughter Caroline was older than John, very high powered - she worked for a merchant bank in the city.

Gerry and I slept together, which caused much leg pulling at breakfast about the morals of the older generation. Gerry said he was very pleased I had got on so well with 'the children'.

Later that week, at our riverside restaurant, Gerry proposed to me. Of course I knew he would. I had my reply prepared.

"Gerry, before I give you my answer there is something you must know." I looked down, avoiding his gaze. He didn't interrupt me. He held my hand.

"Since Harry died and I've been on my own I've been a little, shall we say, adventurous." I looked up at him to see if he understood. "I've had..." But I could not quite find the right words.

He held his hand up to stop me. "Jean, my darling, I understand, there really is no need to tell me about it."

"No, it's not quite what you might think. I've been to parties where, well, you know." I looked away again.

He laughed. "You have? Well, good for you! To be equally honest, when my wife was alive we went to similar parties, in our youth anyway."

I brightened and smiled at him. "You did?"

"Hmmm," he nodded. "But you don't have to tell me about it. Keep the memories as yours. And when we're married, if you want to, well, be adventurous, that's all right."

"Gerry!" I was just a bit shocked. It had never crossed my mind that I would do anything like that again after we were married. "I wouldn't dream of it!" I said.

"Well..." he said giving a little shrug, leaving the option open.

We were married six weeks later. Johnnie came to the wedding. At the reception Gerry cast a glance at Johnnie, then looked at me raising a questioning eyebrow. I smiled and nodded. Gerry nodded knowingly. He looked impressed.

Of course, he will never know about John and Becky.

I rang the flasher to apologise and wrote to the others I had contacted. My party would remain for ever an entertaining fantasy.

I sold only the 'over the hill' wine at Sotheby's. Gerry sells cases of the ready to drink here and there to his favoured customers. We drink bottles alternately from his cellar and from mine. Well, he does anyway. When he sells one of my cases he is fastidious about giving me a cheque for the full amount. Not that I really need the money. I have sold the house. The wine and I now live very happily with Gerry.

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