Espied Pt. 10

"Shall I make you come? We don't want to keep everyone waiting."

The last time in the kitchen the lad had made himself come but Sal was having none of that.

The lad looked a little sheepish, "It might speed things up but... but I think I'll oil myself first."

The club liked the look of his body shining with oil. It gave the look of well polished wood to his whole body. His cock a mahogany brown, his body rather darker.

"I'll do it." What a job for the working girl, spreading oil all over a, handsome, tall naked black man! Sal did it properly but, of course, the touch of her hands to his skin were exciting nonetheless. How could the touch of a naked woman oiling one be anything else? Crouching to oil his legs and then thighs with that big thing sticking out; lovely to be oiling his smooth tight buttocks, the edge of her hand sliding all oily in the crack of his bottom; a careful oiling of his delicate balls in their wrinkled sack as she tried not to open her mouth and absorb his knob right there in front of her - and, of course, she had left the best until last.

Sal grabbed: so big and warm in her hand, a big brown truncheon with such a lovely knob at the end. As hard as anything - and how could it not be with her oiling the lad all over. So upright, so big, so strong, so sexual! She wanked it, her oily hand riding up and down making it all shiny with oil - giving it a real polish! Sal loved the feel and the action, but it was not enough, not enough in her state, not enough having covered every inch of him with her fingers. She let go and, instead, grabbed his hand, pulling it to her, between her opened thighs to her sex, the fingers were bent and uppermost and she pushed them up and into herself. "Do me too," she hissed.

Outside the club members were preparing - perhaps - little realising what a photographic event was going on in the kitchen. How many would, perhaps, have rather it had taken place on the table in the bright light and seen from below just what those big fingers were doing to Sal. For a few minutes Sal just revelled in being fingered before her hand once more closed on her friend's erect penis. The feel of the thing, so slippery, so substantial and firm in her hand. In her mind the thought of it pushing between her thighs, the big smooth head, streamlined, and with the sliding skin right back easing her open and then filling her - filling her first with cock and then with semen.

It was not really the moment to hear Mr. Soames call, 'we are ready for you,' but there was, in fact, no call. In the kitchen the mutual pleasuring continued undisturbed. It would have been worse had, rather than calling, Mr. Soames or Mrs. Riley knocked and come into the kitchen and seen what was happening. It was not that they were unaware of what the young lad's 'preparation' had involved the last time. After all Sal had seen, and no doubt they had, the tell-tale oozing of semen from his foreskin as he had joined them in the hall but would not, surely, have expected him to do that whilst Sal was 'changing,' still less that she would do the 'thing' for him. Perhaps, in reality, the club members were hoping he would 'display,' again, happy in the idea of seeing Sal not only naked but with a tumescent big man. A display so much more likely if he had not recently ejaculated.

Worse, if they had come into the kitchen just as the inevitable happened. They did not, but what must they have thought out in the hall at hearing Sal at the moment of her orgasm? She was quite unable to supress its vocalisation. She cried out as electric spasms came from her clitoris making her shake and gasp whilst the lad's strong and big fingers pushed inside her and his thumb flicked that erect little organ. Her hand pulled the faster on his penis and, whereas he might have been intending to use kitchen paper - there was a roll to hand - instead he came freely, spurting upwards and over Sal's breasts and down onto her tummy. Sal not only felt the hot cum spurting onto her but saw it shoot out of the end of his cock.

Standing there, semen dripping from his erect penis and with the recent production dripping and running down Sal they both looked at the door. Sal had been loud. Would it suddenly open and expose them to Mr. Soames, Mrs. Riley and perhaps everyone looking through? What had they thought of Sal's cry, might they think something was wrong, that the lad had 'lost control' and was 'taking her?'

But the door did not open, they were not seen with the guilty evidence of what they had been doing running down their bodies. They were left to make their final preparations - mostly involving kitchen paper!

There was then, indeed, a call of "Are you ready?" and somewhat sheepishly they came out of the door to appear before the assembled club members. All eyes turned to the couple. Sal could not know what everyone was thinking, was there a surreptitious excitement about the evening's potential, was everyone really there for the photography? Whether or not that was so, had they also been greeted by a rising of every penis in the room albeit hidden within trousers, to say nothing of a moistening or real wetting of pudenda, nestling warm and snug in cotton or even silk panties?

Sal's excitement had not abated, the thought of penises rising by way of a greeting and appreciation of naked bodies pleased her. People could clap, whether they really thought something deserved applause or not. The rising of penises was involuntary - if they rose then the appreciation was real! The two of them walked, smiling, to the table and the lad helped her up - a gentlemanly act - but it was perhaps not quite so gentlemanly how so many of the club's members' eyes dropped to the inevitable exposure of what was between her legs as she got onto the table. A difficult manoeuvre to do with dignity.

Up hopped her friend onto the table, his penis safely deflated, it flapped against his skin as he jumped up onto the table, safely under control. And then the two of them adopted poses as instructed by the members. Not, of course, sexual poses though it might be debated what were and what were not sexual poses given both of those modelling were stark naked.

The trouble was, for Sal, her arousal had not abated and all those lenses, all those cameras and faces pointing towards her and seeing her exposed body did nothing to lessen that. She liked being seen and it was not as if she and the lad were not touching. Even innocent poses, like sitting back to back on the table with legs outstretched, was contact, backbone to backbone, skin to skin, and it all had her feeling sexual. They stood together as the cameras clicked, they pretended to walk, she was lifted and held so his body was vertical and hers horizontal, they sat facing each other with lower legs and feet crossing over but with genitalia respectably far apart. The members had her standing, hands resting on his shoulders with the man squatting in front of her. She saw the photographs later and found the eye drawn to his hanging balls and penis dangling against a white background. It seemed to Sal to be a deliberately sexual pose showing the meeting's interest had been in the sexual right from the start, before..., before things got out of hand. Mrs. Riley, she recalled, had suggested the pose.

It was when they had her kneeling and him standing again that it happened. To be fair there had at first been kneeling together, staring at each other as instructed, the lighting arranged to give dramatic shade; then they had had her standing with him looking up at her, but it was when she was kneeling again, and he was instructed to stand, that it happened. Inches from her face - inevitably - was his cock and it began to thicken. The lighting had created dramatic shade below. Sal just stared as it began to rise. At first only the shaft of the hanging penis visible in the light, the balls certainly all hidden, and then only the glint of the oil revealing where it was, its blackness merging with the shade. Sal could see it was growing, could hear the clicking of shutters but was rooted to the spot. Again, her friend's sexual organ was reacting, reacting to her, not privately in her garden or in the hall's kitchen but where all in the room could see.

Up and up towards her it came and, as it did so, the light caught it, as if the light was moving down the shaft rather than it coming up into the light, and then the light caught the curved, bulbous end, his knob. It was like the phases of the moon. At first a narrow crescent of light, then it grew, the crescent thickening until there was a semi-circle of light, the half-moon of the penis. Up and up it came up into the light until the full moon of the glans penis showed. Big - and there was no denying its bigness - and round, the light catching and showing it to her in complete detail, the little opening at the top and the taut fraenum. It looked so sexual, so... appetising.

It was, of course, not just Sal seeing the steady rising of the penis up into the air. It was everyone in the room.

Sal had come perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes before but had not lost her arousal one little bit. It was probably the thought and knowledge of being watched that did it, but something snapped. She was completely unable to prevent a very public meltdown in full view of all the camera lenses, despite nobody so much as touching her! Everyone present saw it happen, one moment she was stock still, kneeling before the other model, the next she was reaching up and then down with her mouth, engulfing the head of the cock in front of her and rather noisily sucking upon it. Did the cameras then click!

"Down a bit Sal, bring it to the horizontal, lovely pose, yes, that is it!" It was her neighbour, Sal could recognise the voice.

"Sal! What are you doing?" Mrs. Riley's voice.

"Sal!" Mr. Soames' ejaculation.

What was she doing? But it was too late now. She had passed the boundary. It had moved from nude photography to... to... hard core in seconds. Sal could not help herself, her friend's knob in her mouth was so big, so soft, so good. How much could she get in?

There was certainly no 'deep throat' for the photography enthusiasts but when Sal saw the photographs later - the best ones of course - she was both embarrassed, impressed and aroused all in one. She had taken a lot of it but moreover the way her lips encircled the oiled shaft, the juxtaposition of mouth, penis and balls was so pleasing - as a photograph and as erotica. And then there was Mr. Soames' so impressive shot when her friend had pulled away, it showed her mouth so open, the knob so full and between them strands of her saliva. It was the wetness glistening that made the photograph. Wet mouth, her wet tongue just showing and the wetness of the sucked penis. "Sex is very liquid," was Mrs. Riley's slightly surprising comment at that later meeting to review the photographs,but all the members present and looking at the photographs had agreed. The contrast between the session and the very proper viewing meeting rather stark.

Sal stared around wildly from the table top, in front of her the beautiful oiled body of her friend, his cock rigid and glistening with oil and saliva looking so like polished wood - a perfectly detailed mahogany cock, an antique dildo for ladies to pleasure themselves with, a thing to stuff in the warm, wet place between their legs and pump; around her the members of the photography group with mouths open and cameras raised; her friend looking down at her with his eyes so wide. What had she done?

"Well, well, well, Sal," it was Mr. Soames, "that was a bit of as surprise. But, whilst there's the opportunity, might we try some other, err, um, erotic poses?"

At first there was no a sound from the other members but gradually there were murmurs of agreement. There was a certain tension in the air. More than a slight tension. It could, indeed, have been cut with a knife.

"On your hands and knees, Sal." It was her neighbour.

Easy to move from kneeling to being on all fours. Easiest in her confusion at what she had done to simply follow instruction.

"Now you stand behind her, no, don't touch your cock, just let it stand over her. Yes, that is it!"

There was the clicking of shutters.

Mr. Soames spoke, "Close your eyes, arch backwards and clench your fists, yes, bit further. Right! Just as if you are about to spurt!"

"Mr. Soames!" It was Mrs. Riley, but her camera clicked.

"Now kneel behind Sal, yes, as if you are about to - penetrate..."

Seemingly Mrs. Riley did not object to her neighbour's use of the word 'penetrate.'

"... not too close. Lovely."

Sal could not see but she saw the photographs later. Photographs taken by different members at different angles: perfect sides views of the two models with the lad's penis pointing arrow-like to her; A view from the end of the table with her looking at the camera and the black lad immediately behind her and her hanging breasts the only really sexual element exposed; a view down her side showing the pointing penis straight on and rear views emphasising her exposed sex with the side of the mahogany coloured shaft and a rear view of the flared knob. So peculiar for her to be seated looking at photographs at the later meeting of her most intimate areas and hearing her fellow members commenting as if they were photographs of wild birds. But as Sal knew, because the photographs were shown in sequence, there were more dramatic photographs to come.

Sal turned her head and looked at her friend, his eye caught hers. Was he hating it or, as he had said, really revelling in the exposure, his cock up and hard in front of all these people, the more so as he had had his cock publicly sucked and now pretending to be about to fuck. She could just see the long barrel and rounded, exposed end of his cock beyond her bottom. The cameras clicked at the new view of her looking back.

"Could you move a little closer, closer, yes," her neighbour again, "Sal, look to the front. Could you spread your legs a bit more, no, not you Sal, yes, bring your cock down a bit, you're aimed at the wrong hole! That's it, perfect."

"That's a bit rude," said Mrs. Riley."

To Sal that seemed, somewhat, an understatement. She blinked rapidly and bit her lip. Behind her she knew, inches or perhaps even just an inch, from her sex was her friend's big erect, as firm as if carved from mahogany, cock; she was dripping with sexual excitement, both at the exposure and the thought; it was awful but she could so feel the wetness, was revelling in being seen like that, knew it was not just her friend whose sexual arousal was shown by his tumescence but her own too was revealed to all, not just in the pointing of her nipples but in the shining lubrication she could feel running from her sex onto her thighs - it would be seen! The thought of being exposed in her excitement seemed to stoke her arousal the more; her nipples were as hard as dried peas; Sal closed her eyes, she was breathing hard - another indication to the company - if someone was to touch or brush her nipples she thought she would come - visibly in front of everyone. The cameras clicked.

"Would you hold Sal's breasts?" Her neighbour again.

It was as if her neighbour could see inside her head, as if he knew what would happen when her young friend did that. Sal held her breath, waiting for the touch.

'No,' she thought, 'don't do that.' But she did not say it and the touch came.

The young man must have leant forward a little, perhaps being so careful not to touch her with his penis - she did not feel that - yet. He cupped both hanging breasts as instructed. Strong male fingers curling around her soft skin, her nipples hard against the palms of his hands. Sal quivered in excitement, perhaps enough to spoil the crispness of a photograph if taken at a slow shutter speed. The feeling from her breasts intense. Cameras clicked.

It was like the blowing of a fuse in her brain or the snapping of the coupling of a train allowing the trucks, that had been patiently following the locomotive up the hill, finding they were free, to change direction and travel faster and faster away from the locomotive, running to their destruction back down the hill. The strain of holding herself in check had become too much. Sal had certainly come not half an hour before in the kitchen but that had not assuaged her desire for more. She was no longer the woman who only occasionally masturbated quietly in the warmth of her bed. She had changed or else found her real self.

A cry from her lips and Sal pushed back hard with her bottom seeking the penis of the man holding her breasts. It was both involuntary and deliberate - a contradiction all at the same time. So well lined up was the penis and its rounded knob that it went straight in in one. It was not the young man who did the deed, it was not him who took Sal's virginity, but herself, not on a normal sized penis but upon a big one, not in the soft seclusion of a bed between crisp sheets, not privately but very publicly. One moment the two sexes were separate: the next inches of thick cock were up inside her banging at her cervix. It was anything but a gentle penetration, but Sal was, after all, very wet, open and supple - more than ready for the insertion of a big cock.

Not a camera caught the act, but they certainly caught what followed. It was not just penetration, Sal kept on pushing against her friend, pushing and pulling, completely absorbed in the new feel of a cock sliding in her vagina. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were screwed tightly shut as her orgasm built the more and then overflowed. She felt it all and, in a way, awfully saw it all at the later photography group meeting, the joined bodies, the cock inside her, her held breasts and her face in orgasm, in ecstasy. All had been recorded by the members' cameras from their different positions around the table. A complete study with no detail missed.

And as her own thrusting back at the cock had slowed the young lad had taken over, pushing against her, holding her breasts hard and really pounding at her - yes, fucking her. She had slipped forwards, dropping onto her forearms leaving her bottom raised the more. She saw the photographs later - obscene or artistic? Certainly, it was of a woman being really 'taken' by a big and strong man. How his skin had shone in the photographs - oil and perspiration - and then there was the one... The photograph!

It was a photograph taken by Mrs. Riley. It was from Sal's front and showed her wide eyed, seemingly in surprise, and with the lad grimacing. The lighting was perfect, the shade glorious in bringing out the detail, the colours so right against the pale backdrop at the other side of the table, the lovely sheen of the polished mahogany table so mirrored by the equally beautiful skin tones of the man together with the contrast with the paleness of Sal's skin. Around the table the watchers could be seen, but blurred and out of focus, only the joined couple in crisp focus. It looked as if the picture had been taken, though might not have been, at the exact moment the lad came in the male way, Sal looking like she was feeling the first spurt from his penis. It was a picture that seemed to tell a story. Her neighbour, she understood, was not the only one to possess a copy blown up to poster size in a frame. It hung in his bedroom, as Sal later saw.

The silence was palpable when the joined couple's movements ceased. Such a contrast with the earlier sucking, squelching noises from the energetic copulation. Eventually her neighbour voiced perhaps what others had been thinking. "Does anyone else wish to pose with Sal?"