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.
At nine, our cab delivered us to the hall where we had the parties. Most of the attendees were already there, flirting and chatting. In less than a minute, Dom and I were naked, having learned to wear a minimum of clothing. Julia took a little more time, whether from nervousness or playfulness I didn't know. But she knew immediately that, from the moment she removed her blouse, she would be the center of attention. As she stood there in her soft bra and panties for a minute, as if to acclimatize herself, the room gradually fell quiet. And when she doffed her underwear, every eye on the room was on her. She had a thin tuft of fur at her slit, brown to match her hair, and small breasts, no more than swelling mounds high on her chest, with dark brown nipples the size of gumdrops. Dom was watching her appreciatively as he stroked himself to hardness, as all the men were doing. She looked like a bronzed goddess, with an allover tan that showed no lines. Even I felt the allure of her sex appeal; I gave my low breasts a squeeze as I smiled at her, and her returning grin got my juices flowing instantly.
Julia took to the situation like a duck to water. She chatted up everyone in the place, confident in her nudity. Every hard cock twitched as she glanced at it and smiled her appreciation. As usual, many of the women were fondling themselves blatantly, and it wasn't long before she was playing that game, too, fingering her slit and pinching her fat nipples to hardness as she chatted.
When her picture of Beatrice was exhibited, it was clear that she knew everything about its provenance, probably from her mother. She gave a very knowledgeable talk on how a young boy's semen was collected into glass balls by women skilled in that art and then mixed with tempera to produce the startling luminosity of the painting. Somebody asked her about the formula. "The precise proportions were still unknown," she replied, but I saw her glance and wink at me. I blushed, remembering Derek's penis spitting its fresh sperm into the glass test tube. But I don't think anybody noticed me. They were all looking at her, particularly since she was running her finger along her slit as she spoke, occasionally pulling her labia apart to expose her own pink clit, as the girl in the painting was doing. The sight of this barely pubescent girl unselfconsciously fondling herself while talking about masturbating young boys sent the eroticism of the room rocketing through the roof. She was the girl that every woman there (including me) had wished that she had been when she was that age, and the girl that all men wished to possess and to deflower.
The party eventually wound down, with more of the people pairing off as they left than was usually the case, as testimony to the supercharged erotic atmosphere of that night. We dressed and went down to the street to meet the cab that Dom had called. As we clambered in, I wondered how the rest of the evening would go. Julia insisted on going home with us, rather than back to her hotel. "I left my purse there," she explained. This presented a problem, since it was our custom to go back home and fuck our brains out after these parties. But we didn't have long to find out.
Julia came right to the point. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen! God, all those boners! So many different sizes and shapes! You know, when we went to all those naturist clubs, I always wondered what it would be like if all those blokes had stiffies. I used to fantasize about it all the time. And now my dream came true!"
"I'm glad you got what you came for, dear," I said.
"Well, I got some of what I came for, but I have a really big favor to ask you. Both of you."
"Let's hear it," said Dom.
"Livy, Dom ... can we get naked again? I'm so horny! I'm hornier than I've ever been in my life! I want to see Dom hard again. I want to see him wank, and play with myself as I watch. Can I?"
"Have you ever done this before?"
"No, but I've always had this fantasy. And you chaps ... I mean, all Derek would talk about was how wonderful you guys were, how you understood about this, how sexy you were ... I was hoping..."
"Julia, are you a virgin?"
"Yes. I mean, I've made out with guys, but I haven't gone all the way. Just necking. I felt a guy's stiffy once, through his trousers, but I've never seen one before. Until tonight."
"Dom, would you be up to this?"
"Only if it's all right with you, Livy."
"Well, since you let me make love to her brother, I don't see why I shouldn't let you make love to her," I said. "As long as you wear a rubber, that is."
Julia spoke up. "I wasn't expecting to get ... you know, fucked. I just wanted to see what it was like when a man shot his ... stuff out of his penis." Her voice was suddenly hesitant, a little girl's voice, no longer confident and sure. She was talking about something she had probably discussed with her friends in endless detail in the dormitory, but which they had never seen with their own eyes.
We looked at each other in silence, afraid to break the sexual tension that descended on the room. Then Dom laughed, stood up, and began undressing. Julia and I smiled and followed suit. Soon we were all naked and facing each other on the three chairs in the living room. Dom's penis was hard in no time, from the hours of stimulation. Julia was staring at it as she fondled her slit, separating the labia with a long slim finger. I remembered my own fantasies when I was her age. Although I had never seen a naked man before my first wedding night, I'd also wondered about the sudden bulge in a boy's trousers as we necked. But Julia was of another generation, and another culture, growing up with naked people all around her and intelligent parents who indulged her curiosity and guided her education in all things, including sexual. And here she was, taking in stride a situation that I would never have dreamed of in my own adolescence. I found myself emboldened by her open sexuality.
I got up. "Wait," I said. "Get up, Julia. Let me sit there." She stood, with a questioning expression on her face. I sat in her chair. "Sit on my lap," I said. "Spread your legs, over mine, and lean back on me." She did so, and I kissed her neck and clasped my hands over her young tits, stroking the nipples with the flat of my palm as I felt her smooth back crushing my breasts. I separated my legs, forcing hers farther apart. "Now finger yourself," I whispered into her ear, "and watch Dom, and give him a show."
As Dom and Julia masturbated, I stroked her breasts, and soon her hand was wanking her clit furiously. I felt her wetness trickling down onto the inside of my leg. "My God," I thought. "She wasn't kidding when she said she was horny." Dom was timing his own strokes to hers, and soon she was signaling her climax. My hand went to her vulva; I plunged a finger in, then two. I felt no hymen. As Julia succumbed to her arousal, Dom gave his rod a few final strokes, and the sperm shot out of it in five pulses, arcing three feet into the air, landing on the hardwood floor between us. As he spurted, Julia held her breath. Then Dom groaned, and we all relaxed.
I found myself needing to relieve my own horniness, so I pushed Julia off me, rose, and lay on my back on the soft rug in front of the fireplace. I strummed my own clit wildly as I writhed, lifting my ass completely off the floor. Dom knelt between my legs and put his large strong hands under my ass, supporting the weight of my hips, as his lips went to my cunt. Then I felt his tongue inside me. And then I felt something else: Julia's mouth, sucking my right nipple. That sent me into a thundering climax, a wave of pure fiery pleasure that washed over me from head to heels, blurring my vision, leaving me sweating and trembling. My clit felt like it was on fire, and I pushed Dom's head away. Dom knew from experience that my clit was now too sensitive to touch, and transferred his kisses to the inside of my legs.
Julia was looking at me in wonder, and it occurred to me that this was the first time she'd seen a woman having an orgasm. I smiled at her, and pulled her down onto the rug, and gave her a hug and a kiss. I rolled her onto her back and Dom parted her legs and began giving her the same oral stimulation he'd been giving me as I in turn kissed her and sucked on the hard brown nipples capping her small titties. She grabbed my arm, squeezing hard, and gasped as the orgasm overcame her. It was her first experience with cunnilingus, I found later, and she adored it.
"Was that your first orgasm, dear?" I whispered as I hugged her and felt her breathing return to normal.
"No. But it was the best! And it was the first one I've had with other people. I'm really good at getting myself off. Or so I thought, before tonight. But this is better!"
"The best sex is social sex, love. That's your first lesson for tonight!"
Together, we licked and sucked Dom back to hardness, and then went to the bedroom. When Julia saw the oil painting of the other "Dom," the boy from Renaissance Florence, which was hanging opposite our bed, she gasped. "That's beautiful! Do you know who it is?"
"I had a dream about him once," I said. "In the dream, his name was Dom. He was one of those boys whose semen was collected into the glass balls you talked about."
Julia stared at the young boy's long, hard cock with its glistening tip. "That's amazing work. It looks like he could shoot any second. Is it by the same artist who painted my Beatrice? There's a lot of similarity in the style."
"I'm nearly positive it is. You have a good eye, Julia."
"I wonder if Beatrice and Dom ever met? Or were they just models hired at different times?"
"I don't know," I said. "In my dreams, they did." I pulled back the sheets of our king-size bed, and lay down on it, followed by Julia and Dom. Retrieving a condom from the nightstand, I showed Julia how to open the package and helped her slip it onto Dom's cock. "Do you want this one?" I asked Julia. She looked at me, eyes suddenly wide, and shook her head. "I don't know if I'm ready for that yet," She whispered.
"Then would you mind if I used it?" I said. "You're free to stay and watch, if you like." When her face broke into a radiant smile, I had my answer.
I stretched out on the bed and parted my legs, and then I felt Dom enter me and surrendered myself to his lunges and thrusts. I knew that, after my huge orgasm moments before, that I probably wouldn't achieve another one, but the sensations of his cock inside me felt wonderful just the same. Julia lay beside us, regarding us gravely as she fingered herself. I noticed through my own excitement that she was timing her strokes to Dom's. At last, Dom grunted and I felt his cock pulse inside me, and then his body relaxed. His cock slid out of me, and I reached down to make sure that the condom had followed it. The last thing I remember was Julia kissing us, whispering, "Thank you, Livy! Thank you, Dom! Thank you so much!" And then I slept, and dreamed...
Dom could hardly believe his luck. Yesterday, the boy was in an unhappy relationship with another boy and learning that such a life was not for him. Not six hours ago, he was homeless, wandering the streets of medieval Rome in search of a bed and a friend. Now he was in bed with two women: women he loved, women who had spent hours pleasuring him in his youth and knew everything about keeping a man on the brink of a climax for hours. No sooner had he planted his seed in one of them than the other would coax him back to hardness and mount him. Four times he came before they would let him sleep. During that time, Beatrice's baby woke once, but since it was Donetta riding him at the time, Beatrice gave the child another feeding and returned to the bed, offering what was left of the milk in her small breasts to him. Timing his suction to Donetta's bouncing, he sucked on the nipple and felt the milk's warm sweetness flow into his mouth. It was as if his fluids were being replenished even as they flowed from his cock. When he finally came into the older woman, Beatrice offered her the breast, too, and Donetta softly suckled it as she felt Dom's now soft penis sliding out of her. And then it was Beatrice sucking on his penis and licking Donetta's juices from it. Less than a day ago, Dom felt he was in Hell, and now he was in Heaven.
He learned the next morning how it all came about. "I heard from my sister that Beatrice was no longer with the Master's household," Donetta said. "And then the Count sent me to live at his son's house here in Rome, to help care for some servant girl with a baby. I had to leave, anyway. The new Countess's staff had finally been trained in all the skills needed to run the household, and I was no longer required there. I was just another reminder to her of the old Countess, and she was glad to see me go. When I got to Rome and found that it was Beatrice who was the servant with the baby, I suspected that Dom was involved somehow. Besides me, he was the only link common to those two households."
"You didn't recognize me at first, Donetta," Beatrice added.
"Are you surprised? I hadn't seen you since you were ten, when I left the Master's employ. I barely remembered you."
"I remembered you, though. You look so much like your sister. And you make love like her, too!"
Dom could not help but wonder at that remark. "You made love to Antoinette?"
"Yes, I did. Father wanted me to learn how to pleasure a man, but Toni thought I should know how to pleasure a woman as well."
"And she does know," Donetta affirmed. "From the moment we met, I knew that we would end up in a bed together. My sister taught her well! I was expected to share Beatrice's bed as a fellow servant, but not as a lover. That came as a pleasant surprise!"
"Does Salvatore know?" Dom asked. Salvatore was the Count's younger son and their current patron.
"I doubt it. And I doubt if he cares, even if he knew. He doesn't interfere with the private lives of his staff, I'm told."
"But would his generosity would extend to me?"
"Why not?" said Donetta. "You can pay your board. And if it should happen that his new cook wants a man in her bed, he would only be concerned if the work suffered. And it won't."
And so it was that Dom moved in with the two women. A week or so later, he was presented to Salvatore, whom he seen at his father's house but had never before met. He was introduced simply as Beatrice's lover and a musician at the Pope's court. When Dom offered to pay for his board, the young nobleman brushed aside the request. "You can pay me with your music," he said. "I've heard you practicing, and you bring some joy into this place. My parents appreciated music, too."
"I know that, my lord. I used to live there, in your father's house."
"Were you one of his musicians?"
"Not then. I was just learning the art at the time."
Salvatore regarded him, as if to say something else, and then dismissed him with a "Be welcome here, my lad." And Dom took his leave. After a month, he was as settled in the household as if he had been living there for years. He would go to the Vatican every day for rehearsals, and then he would return home after visiting the market and buying whatever fresh meat and bread that the kitchens needed. "So I am the butcher's delivery boy again!" he thought with a smile. "But the terms of employment are much better this time!"
In the afternoon hours, he would practice the violin as the baby listened, and the sound drifted throughout the house. Some evenings he would return to the Vatican for a performance, and others left him free to make love to Beatrice and Donetta, who shared his favors without jealousy. In fact, it was Donetta who suggested that he and Beatrice should be married. "Once the baby is weaned, it won't be long before Beatrice is pregnant again," Donetta declared, "and these children will need a father."
From time to time, Donetta got word of the news of the Count's estate from servants who regularly went back and forth between the two houses, and also received letters from her sister at the Master's studio. Donetta's own little boy, now ten, was there performing the same duties for his aunt that Dom had performed years ago, keeping the Master supplied with the ingredient that made his paintings so prized. And Antoinette had a five-year-old boy who was an inseparable playmate of Angelina's six-year old.
At length, Dom asked permission to speak with Salvatore and ask for Beatrice's hand in marriage. He was received into the young nobleman's hall that very evening.
"I have no objection to your marrying Beatrice. You seem to make her very happy."
"Thank you, milord."
"You seem to be making Donetta very happy, as well. I hear that you have a reputation for that."
"Pardon me, milord?"
"I have been asking around about you. My father has told me everything. About how you were raised in that artist's house, and what you were doing there. About being my mother's lover when my father was away."
Dom stood silently, suddenly unaware of where the conversation was to lead.
"I have no hard feelings about that. You gave my mother many happy hours, my father tells me. But I have a question for you, Dom. In all of your sexual escapades, have you ever produced children? Are you capable of doing so?"
"Children? I think not, milord. As for being capable, I truly do not know. Beatrice is not fertile now, since she is feeding the baby. The Countess was barren. Donetta is careful not to sleep with me during the times she is fertile, and at any rate she says she has her ways of making sure that there will be no child. And I have slept with other women, but they were already pregnant at the time." He did not add that one of those women was Salvatore's sister Lucia. He did not think it important, and he wished to preserve her reputation as a faithful wife.
Salvatore sat silently for a while, sipping his wine, and then motioned Dom closer. "I have something to say to you, Dom, and this is not to go farther than this room. Do you understand? My father says that you are an honorable man, worthy to be trusted. I trust you now with a secret that you must not reveal. Do I have your most sacred word?"
"You do, milord. I swear upon my immortal soul."
"Thank you, Dom. The secret is this: I am unable to father children. I had a wound in battle, a few years ago. One of our cannons exploded, as those infernal things always do. There was metal flying all over. It went through my armor, into my groin. I lived, but there was ... damage. This happened a few months after my marriage. I have slept with many women since, including my wife, but have no children to show for it. I fear the damage is permanent."
"I am sorry to hear that, milord."