It had been a Mediterranean vacation right out of my dreams: an estate on a Greek island where I and my fiance would roam naked, making love as we pleased. Where I would masturbate a naked young boy many times a day, teach him how to make love to a woman, and eventually take his virginity. Where I used the boy's sperm to re-create a paint recipe that had been lost for centuries. I found myself in a state of almost constant arousal, and I wanted it to last forever.
When we got back to New York, we resumed our lives, with me curating the collections at the art museum where I had worked for a couple of years now and Dom playing his cello in the NBC Symphony Orchestra. We were married that winter in a simple ceremony at the court house. But our marital status didn't prevent our attendance at those nude soirees where our friends exhibited their erotica. The rule, as usual, was that we could flirt with others all we liked, but actual fondling was taboo. More often than not, we found a partner or two for sexual games that were played back in our apartment once the soiree was over. It was usually a single woman, but occasionally we had a couple over, and I got a taste of a cock that wasn't Dom's. But Dom's was the only cock that I allowed to enter my cunt without a condom, and then only on the days that I wasn't fertile. I knew that there would be children in our future, but I wanted to establish myself as a professional woman so that I could later choose a job that would afford me both a career and a family. Fortunately, a friendly pharmacist was able to give us a dozen condoms every week, even though these items were often hard to come by in the years just after the War, due to Blue Laws. And a dozen was usually just enough.
In February, we received a call from the Arkwrights. Their teenage daughter, whom we hadn't met in our trip to Greece, was coming to New York for her spring break from the exclusive girls' boarding school she attended in England. Would we be so kind as to show her around the town? She would be staying at the Waldorf, so we needn't worry about housing and feeding her, but they she would enjoy it more if she were introduced to the city by us rather than by the usual tours. We agreed heartily, and told them that she was welcome here.
It was something of a shock, though, when we finally met her. It was a Saturday morning. Dom and I had just concluded our customary leisurely morning fuck and were eating a late breakfast in the kitchen when the phone rang.
"Well, it's Mrs. Bascombe now. Who is this?"
"I'm Julia Arkwright. Nigel and Elaine's daughter?" Sure enough, her accent was British, very much like Elaine's.
"Julia! I'm so glad you called! When are you going to be here in New York?"
"I'm here now. I'm calling from the hotel. Can I come up and see you this evening?"
"Well, Dom and I have plans this evening. We're going to a party."
"Is this one of those 'erotic art appreciation' nights my mother told me about?" I thought I could hear a chuckle at the other end of the line.
"You know about those? As a matter of fact, it is."
"Can I come along? I can pay my way, so to speak."
"Let's talk about that when we meet you, all right?"
"Sure. I'll be there in an hour." And the line went dead.
I replaced the handset on the cradle with a smile. Even as a child, Julia knew that she was privileged, and that she expected the world to bend to her needs, and not the other way around. Growing up in a wealthy family can do that to you, I reflected.
Sure enough, in an hour our doorbell rang and there she was. Like her brother, she had curly brown hair and olive skin and looked more Greek than English, particularly with her skin a deep tan. Only her brilliant blue eyes betrayed an Anglo-Saxon heritage. She was fifteen, I learned, and studying in England in a very exclusive girls school. Although tall for her age, she was slender, with almost no bust to speak of. Her smile was like her mother's, quick and dazzling.
"Where's your husband?" she asked.
"He just went down to the bakery to get some bread, I replied. "He'll be right back."
"I hope I didn't disturb your plans today," she said. "It's just that I've wanted to attend one of these parties since I first heard about them last Christmas."
"We don't advertise these things, dear. How did you hear about them?"
"From Mum. She told be about your visit last summer. Hey, is it really true that you fucked Derek?"
I blushed slightly as I recalled the feeling of her younger brother's cock spurting inside me. "Did she tell you that, too?"
"No. Derek did. Last Christmas, when I went home. He told me all about your experiments with his ... his cum. And about how you fucked him the last night you were there. I want to thank you for that."
"Well, sure! I love my brother, and I was so happy for him. I was always afraid that he'd end up losing his cherry to some whore who'd give him a disease, or some tart who'd get preggers and ruin his life."
"Well, you're a good sister, Julia. I tried to give him a good time, and teach him a little bit about what we women want in a man."
"You did well, from what he told me. He couldn't stop grinning! Now about that party tonight. Can I come along? Please?"
"Well, you know that they're held in the nude, right?"
"Yes. Mum told me. That's no big thing. I was raised as a naturist, remember. I've seen lots of willies at the beach."
"Did she tell you that all the men would be in a state of ... visible arousal? And that the women would be encouraging that? No fondling allowed, but lots of flirting. Have you ever seen a hard penis?"
"Well, no. Not in the flesh. Just pictures. You know, the ones my parents collect, the ones you saw. But I'm curious about them."
I'm sure you are, I thought. "You said something about 'paying your way.' There's no admission charge for these, you know. It's strictly by invitation."
"I know. But I heard that if you want to be invited, you have to show some artwork. Erotic artwork. I've got a piece like that with me. Mum gave it to me."
I began to suspect (correctly, as it turned out) that Elaine had set us up for this predicament, and that this was being done with her blessing. "What have you got?"
"This!" she said, as she withdrew a padded envelope from a bag she carried. I opened it up. It was the tempera I'd seen at her parents' house: Beatrice, the Renaissance girl just entering puberty. "Would this do?" I heard her say.
"It's beautiful! It would indeed!" The girl with the tiny breasts and slender frame, lying on her side with a leg slightly lifted, pulling up on a cunt lip to expose a glistening pink clitoris as she smiled a secret smile ... I remembered every detail. I tore my eyes away from it as Julia spoke.
"So can I come? Please?"
"You seem determined to go. I bet you'd crash the party if I said 'no, '" I replied with a smile.
"You wouldn't want me to tell my parents that you didn't let me have a good time in New York, would you?"
"Well, we have your morals to think of!"
"Let me worry about that! I've got more morals than I can use!" And we laughed, and then we heard the key in the door, and Dom walked in with a slender baguette, still warm from the baker's oven.
"And is this Miss Arkwright?" he asked.
"Julia, meet Dom. Dom, Julia."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Julia! We're having some bread and wine and cheese for lunch. Would you join us, or would you rather we go out somewhere?"
"Here would be fine. It's a shame to let fresh bread go to waste!"
"Dom," I cut in. "Julia wants to know if she can go to the party tonight with us."
He gave me a level look. "Um, does she know what it entails?"
"Elaine gave her the whole story, it seems. Remember that picture of the nude young girl we saw last summer at the Arkwright's? She brought it as her 'ticket of admission.' I've reviewed the rules with her, and she agrees."
"If it's all right with her parents, then she's in. But I hope she's not going to be disappointed. It's not an orgy, you know. Just flirting and conversation about art."
"Art is my hobby! That studio you used at home was mine, you know. Well, my Mum's, actually, but I use it more than she does."
"Then you should fit right in," he said. I'll bet he's dying to see Julia naked, I thought with a grin. He should have no trouble "keeping it up" tonight!
We spent the day chatting and getting to know each other. After a trip to Central Park, we ate at one of our favorite restaurants in Little Italy. Julia was a brilliant conversationalist, knowing just when to talk and when to listen. The time flew by. Dom was a perfect gentleman, but I found him staring at Julia's chest and probably wondering what her boobs looked like under that blouse and coat. From the moment I met him, I knew he was a tit man, and that was fine with me, particularly since he liked my tits best! I used to think of them as hanging too low and sagging more than they should, but Dom would praise them to the skies and lavish hours of attention on them. He could bring me to a climax just by sucking on my nipples, and I would reward him by oiling them and letting him slide his cock between them as I pressed them together. My mind drifted to those happy moments as Julia chatted on.
.... There is more of this story ...