Gabriel
Noel arrived twenty minutes after I spoke to him on the phone. He treated me like a long-lost friend whom he mistakenly thought had died in the trenches. At about this time the other guests were arriving. When we were finally all seated for dinner there were eighteen of us, including the host and hostess. Since I was the guest of honor, I was seated next to Sir Harry at the head of the table. Noel sat on my right. The Circle welcomed me with a toast and we laid to on the best poached salmon and roast pheasant I have ever eaten.
The guests ranged in age from about seventeen to sixty. There was a member of Parliament, a well known female pop singer, a cab driver, a greengrocer, an aging film beauty who would be easily recognized, and the young female who was deflowered in the film I'd seen earlier. The sexes were very close to being evenly divided. I was told that the total membership was about thirty, but that it was very rare for all of them to show up at the same time.
Table conversation was based on the general topics of the day. There was absolutely no way of knowing that this distinguished, sophisticated gathering would soon be writhing together in orgiastic fun and games. Every one was impeccably dressed. Betsy was nowhere in sight.
I was deep in conversation with the gentleman across from me concerning the US dollar devaluation. He was a fairly well-known economist of somewhat unorthodox persuasion and I was finding him quite interesting when he stopped in mid-sentence, tilted his head back, closed his eyes and groaned under his breath! It was disconcerting, to say the least. My initial impression was that he was in the midst of a coronary. No one else at the table seemed to be paying him any attention and moments later he returned to our discussion as if nothing had taken place at all! Then the very attractive young lady next to him, who had been introduced to me as his daughter, jumped in her chair as if some one had goosed her. With studied elegance she laid down her knife and fork, pressed both hands against her breasts and let out a long deep sigh. Again no one paid much attention. The gentleman next to her, a wirey little guy, whom I had been told was a jockey, was next to react He slumped low in his seat and stared abstractly around the room, seeing nothing through glazed-over eyes. It was then that I realized where Betsy was and what she was doing!
My turn arrived during the salad course. I felt Betsy's hot hands snaking up under my short skirt, pulling it back so that her mouth could make contact with my pussy. I spread my legs as much as possible to afford her better access. Her tongue probed briefly, opening me up as it called forth a gush of cunt lubricant. Then her mouth withdrew and a moment later I felt an intense cold-hot sensation on my cunt lips. Something hard was being shoved in. An ice cube! I sat through salad clasping my legs together, shifting in my chair, activating the hard little cube into a sensuous device which I maneuvered around with my cuntar muscles. Five minutes later it was all gone, the only remaining evidence a small pool of water at my feet.
The remainder of the night, the next five or six hours, are with me as a series of impressions. Suffice it to say that as you the reader have no doubt ascertained by now, I have had in a few brief years a fairly sophisticated series of sexual experiences. I had assumed that I understood sex, was aware of my own physical reactions, likes and dislikes, and my desires and hang-ups. I felt I had experienced (with one major exception) just about all there was to experience sexually. I was wrong. If there was some way to measure sexual response, some unit that could be used similar to the erg or ohm or lumen, it would be found that during those six hours of my initial experience with The Circcle I experienced more "units" of sexual pleasure than during all my previous sexual experiences… all of them put together!
After dinner I was lifted in the arms of four or five men and carried over their heads into The Room. I don't remember my clothes coming off, but I do recall standing under the ministrations of eleven women, whose lips and tongues lapped and sucked every palpitating inch of my squirming, twitching flesh. This was the start of my initiation into The Circle. I was the main event!
The woman laid me put in the gazebo-bed. They ate me, every inch of me. They slithered their wet cunts across my tit flesh and sat on my face with my tongue reaming their cunts and assholes. I recall Carol (who later became a best friend), the daughter of the economist, fucking me with her tightly-clenched breast… running it up and down my slit, trying frantically to stuff it into my cunt which was being held open by two other women. Then Lady Sarah had Carol's tit in her mouth, while others took over my cunt, licking, sucking, drawing cascades of pussy grease that boiled over and dribbled down between my arching buttocks.
I don't recall any specific orgasms; it's my impression that I came once and kept cuming all night. At least a few times I found myself listening to screams of passion, cries of obscenities… it was my own voice.
I looked up at a squishy cunt descending onto my face, I didn't know whose it was, but it was flavored heavily with mint… I ate, sinking my face deep into the steaming aroma. Later, much later, Carol kissed me tenderly and I was lifted bodily and carried off.
I found myself bound to the pool table. A soft pad had been placed under me, but I was totally immobile. I was on my back, my hips over the edge of the table, legs spread as painfully far as they would go. My arms were bound together at the wrists and tied down also. I was informed that according to the initiation rites, every man present was required to drop a load into me. My position was ideal for this-all the man had to do was stand between my spread legs and fuck. A blindfold was placed over my eyes.
I didn't attempt to keep track, but I found out later that I received the discharges of 12 men. One after another they lined up between my legs and fucked into my hot, steaming cunt, disgorging globs of gism… squirting, bursting in me! My naked crotch and inner thighs were sodden with the sticky, thick white spunk. It mixed well with my own effusive flow of cunt juice cascading like an oily river out of my floating pussy. One after another they fucked me, each cock different from the one proceeding it. Hard, thrusting, pistoning cocks, never ending, never stopping, fucking into quarts of gism left there by cocks that went before. I am a cunt! I AM A CUNT! An open cunt! Everybody put your cock in me… thrust in me… ream me with your hard, fat pricks! Spurt your cream into me! cum in me, piss your gism into my open cunt mouth! Fuck me with a thousand pricks! I'm a fat, deep, hairless, open, gushing CUNT!
Later, with the mask removed and the bindings loosened, Lady Sarah licked my crotch and thighs clean. Carol kissed me tenderly. "How do you feel?" she asked, slowly caressing my breast.
"I don't know. I think I'm still cuming. Ohhhh Carol, the feeling of being tied down… you can't move, there's no defense, nothing. You're just a gaping cunt. It's marvelous… God!"
"You've lovely, Gabriel."