Espied Pt. 11

The implication of her neighbour's question was obvious - "Does anyone else wish to pose with Sal?" It would not simply be posing nude with Sal: there would be an erection and more. You could have heard a pin drop. Nobody said a word. It was an invitation to fuck or be fondled or sucked by Sal - nothing more and nothing less.

"Well, if no volunteers, I'll do it."

It took some courage, thought Sal, to undress just like that in front of everyone: not only to be naked but also already erect in front of them. Sal doubted there was any man in the room not tumescent. Or at least she thought those things in retrospect. At the time Sal was thinking very unclearly. Her arousal had not abated, and she still had a cock inside her – even if it was not feeling as filling as before.

Her neighbour was indeed erect, just as Sal had seen him quite a few times before. His was one of the penises she was familiar with. Unfazed by the audience he swung himself up onto the table and simply presented his cock to Sal. Her breasts were held, a penis still occupied her vagina, it seemed almost natural to open her mouth to take in her neighbour's cock. She had sucked it before.

"Hold!" It was Mrs. Riley again, anxious to catch the pose. Again, Sal was impressed with the photograph when she saw it. There was something about an open – female – mouth and an erection waiting to enter. It was very sexual. The club later tried to capture the feeling using fruit and vegetables – bananas, aubergines and cucumbers. 'Eroticism with vegetables' had been one evening's theme. The intention had not originally been to have nudity but Sal and then Mr. Soames had been persuaded. It had been quite a giggle what could be done with juxtaposing the human form with fruit and vegetables!

Her neighbour held the pose and, again, it was not he who made the connection but Sal. Despite the clicking cameras and the jockeying for position by the club she just could not resist what was presented to her. She moved forward feeling the now limp cock pulled a little away from her. Sal's lips encircled half of the soft glans, paused as the camera shutters clicked and then sucked the whole of her neighbour's knob in. But she did not stop there, on and on she went, the penis slipping into her mouth but with the corresponding effect of the lad's penis slipping from her sex. She felt it. A member photographed the one cock going in and the other falling out.

"Oh," said Sal, feeling suddenly empty.

"Oh," said Mr. Soames, "I rather wanted that photograph, err, um, both ends you know."

"That's all right, I'll volunteer," said Vince.

"Me too," exclaimed Al.

Al, though, was the quicker at undressing. He vaulted onto the table as the black lad, penis hanging got off. Al's penis was not at all hanging and the photographs club were treated to a further example of penis variety – a subject, perhaps, for a future photography meeting – in that Al's penis had a pronounced forward curve, that is its curved side was uppermost.

Sal felt his hands on her hips before rather loudly, and with emphasis, Mrs. Riley uttered a single word – "socks!"

Sal did not turn to look, she had a mouthful of cock, but the meaning was obvious. Men really did not look their best in just a pair of short socks. There was a pause, presumably whilst socks were removed and thrown away out of sight of the cameras onto the floor. Again, the feeling of hands on hips and, without invitation from Sal, Al posed as requested – sort of – by Mr. Soames. Al's pose being six inches deep in Sal.

"Yes, that's almost it," said Mr. Soames.

'Almost' was right. The photographs lost something of their quality with the loss of the young lad' photogenic skin, but it did not stop the photography or upset Sal's enjoyment of the moment. She sucked and was fucked – and very willingly. The thought that there was something peculiar at having multiple cocks entering her on the evening of her de-flowering not really entering her head – then. She was just too far gone, too close to further orgasms, too out of control. Greedily – and that was the right word – she consumed Al's semen after her neighbour and he had swopped places: not at the request of anyone but seemingly by mutual agreement, though the photograph of them passing each other atop the table just at the moment their erections crossed and with Sal sprawled beneath them caused some comment at the later showing. Mrs. Riley had been particularly enthusiastic. "Nice to see two at the same time," she had whispered to Sal.

Vince, who had been waiting, took Al's place. His cock lacked a degree of firmness – certainly not flaccid but not anywhere near up to the black lad's mahogany truncheon she had so felt in her mouth minutes before. The firmness, though, came as soon as it was in Sal's mouth. It was not, of course, as big as the black lad's, not big at all but there was a pleasing rigidity and firmness to it. Sal sucked and Sal came again.

"Another position!" Mr. Soames again.

Vince came out of Sal's mouth and her neighbour from her sex. Even that produced a good photograph. Sal looking dishevelled and a little lost with two men with erections standing over her at either end.

The 'doggy' position was dispensed with and then everyone had ideas, revealing a certain knowledge of sexual positions amongst the club. Vince was made to lie on the mahogany table and hold his penis upright as Sal was asked to sit on it cowgirl style. She did as she was told and was soon bouncing up and down with her arms high in the air as Vince fondled her breasts. Sal found she liked that – riding a man. She could imagine Lady Godiva liked that.

Of course, Vince came like that. What man would not? And then the club had her on her back with her neighbour returning to the tableau and lying atop her. 'Missionary' intercourse. A new experience for Sal to have the weight of a man on her, pushing her down, she wriggled a bit and felt his hard penis enter her. Face to face, her breasts squashed against his, he began thrusting at her, the fourth penis of the evening to enter her. "You OK, Sal?" He whispered, his mouth close to hers.

"Yes, very, I think I can come again."

"I meant, with all of this," his penis gave another lunge within her.

"I... I like sex." She was not thinking straight, not with that feeling coming again. Her sex felt a little abused and her clitoris a bit over sensitive, but she was 'OK.' Fuck! She was really enjoying herself. Her own hips pushed up against her neighbour as the cameras clicked again.

And her neighbour came inside her. Once again that feeling, a spurting inside her. He had come but she had not come again. "Anyone else?" It was Sal speaking. The words just slipped out like a boob from a loose bikini top. "I mean, does anyone else fancy posing with me?"

The youngish seeming boy who had joined the club only a few weeks before when Sal had first modelled was pulling his tee shirt over his head but the older man who had joined at the same time was also undoing his buttons.

The young lad's penis was long but thin, it had a newness to it as if it had not yet been much used. Indeed, Sal found out later, it was his first fuck. He posed all right, not very good poses really before he was on top of Sal and mauling at her breasts. There was no finesse and no holding back. In reality he was not modelling at all, just desperate to fuck, the whole scene making him almost as out of control as Sal herself.

Sal felt the spurting of semen – spurting with some force admittedly – as soon as the lad was 'in.' The warmth and wetness had obviously set off the inexperienced penis which, from all the visual stimulation earlier, had probably been on a knife edge for some time. It did not make Sal come and the photographs were not memorable other than the portrait Mr. Soames caught of the young lad's smiling, ecstatic face as he rose from Sal. 'One happy little bunny,' had been Mrs. Riley's summation at the later meeting.

The older man was somewhat less 'chirpy.' He did not leap up on the table like the young lad. Down to his boxer shorts – a nice Paisley pattern – and no socks, he seemed to have second thoughts whilst waiting for the young lad. Even when the boy got off the table and, despite the evidence of his excitement visible in his boxers, he paused, "Perhaps Sal has had enough of men, err, posing with her."

Mrs. Riley chipped in. "Well, I'm not posing with her. Not today, not today anyway. Another day maybe if you'd like an older woman modelling." Mrs. Riley looked at the other women. There was a shaking of heads. It seemed the other women were not up for modelling. It would be up to the men and in particularly the older man in his boxers. "But, if Sal's agreeable I do like the look of all that hair on you."

Clean shaven and balding, it was not at all the same for his body. Thick, dark, greying in places but more than plentiful and all over. Hair covered his chest and was even a little on his back. Within trousers and shirt all this had been hidden.

"And," said Mrs. Riley, "you've clearly something hidden you'd like to show us."

It was obvious the man was excited. His boxers did not hide the erection and there was a wet spot right where its end poked at the cotton.

"Down with them – or do I have to do that?"

"Mrs. Riley!" It was Mr. Soames turn to admonish.

Again, the difficulty of exposure for a man. The old man clearly swallowed and then dropped his boxers catching his erection as they went down. The bounce of his cock making its hardness the more obvious. Even the cushioning of his hairy stomach did not prevent a very audible slap as it bounced upwards against his skin. He went red. He was also not close to the table, meaning he had to walk through the members with them all looking at him. Upon the table, having been helped up by Mr. Soames his hairiness was even more stark. His balls were almost hidden in hair and it grew up the shaft of his penis to about half way. His penis did not stand straight up but curved in the normal direction upwards, with quite a curve bringing the knob, a rather big knob, up to the vertical. Not large but rather nice – or at least that was Sal's thought as she watched it above her. She swallowed – it was her sixth of the evening. What was she thinking? Another cock as 'nice' – but it was. He looked a little like a shaggy bear standing above her. Very photogenic really, in a rather strange way.

The man stood upon the table and looked down at the company and at Sal lying on the table. He shook his head slightly. Sal thought he must be wondering how he had got himself into this position, standing naked and tumescent above a naked woman on that table – with an audience.

"How... I mean, how should I, err, pose? What do you want me to do?"

Seemingly the photographers rather liked him standing over her. The hairy maleness being a different contrast to Sal's pale rather hairless body. She had a rather different view of him – directly from below. He was asked to kneel between her spread legs to give the photographers a nice comparison of her own hairy sex and his own hirsute genitalia. Mrs. Riley even made that comment. He was asked to go closer and certainly Mrs. Riley's photograph of just their joined genitalia, hairy from one body to the other, running from his massed pubic hair, down the hairy half of his cock to where it was buried in Sal's hairy bush, was admired as 'strange.'

The man's face was a picture. Being asked to pose half into a woman who was not his wife's vagina and just hold still! And then asked to fully engage and to pause whilst his and Sal's limbs were arranged by others into the wanted pose with Sal's ankles crossed over his back.

Probably that would have done for the posing for photographs but having got so far – entered the woman – it was a bit unlikely it would all stop there, and for the man simply climb off Sal and get down from the table. His natural instinct took over and Sal felt him begin to move – and it tickled! His hairy penis tickled her opening and on the in-thrust his hairiness really tickled her clitoris. It was different, and it was nice – Sal responded and once again a somewhat out of control Sal was pushing upwards and copulating with enthusiasm. Certainly, the old man reached his peak and ejaculated – an inevitability given the slippery, warm and sexual stimulation – but so, again, did Sal. The sexual sounds of wet intercourse were added to by Sal's moans. No photographs were taken, the members just stood and watched the joined bodies copulating.

And what does one do, when the desire to rut has gone and one becomes acutely conscious of being atop a woman - naked and embedded on a table beneath bright lights and watched by twenty or so people of both sexes? It would probably terrify most men as a prospect. Pressed down on Sal the old man looked around almost in panic. "Oh," he said, "oh." He had had trouble taking his boxers off, difficulty in standing exposed and tumescent on the table but that had been with desire coursing through his veins. Everyone was looking at him and no one was saying anything

"I think, perhaps, that is enough for the evening." Mrs. Riley spoke, breaking the silence.

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Soames, "if you could, um, get off the poor girl. I think she might be a bit exhausted. Err, um, thank you to everyone who has modelled tonight. This has been a, um, rather different meeting from usual. I am sure we shall have some wonderful and, err, interesting photos for our next meeting. And, don't forget to book for our Autumn outing, we need to arrange with the coach company the size of coach and..."

Mr. Soames went on with club arrangements as normal as anything. Finally the older man summoned the courage to rise and separate himself from Sal's vagina.

"It's gone. It's disappeared." Mrs Riley's exclamation caused everyone to look and she was right. No longer hard and tumescent the man's penis had disappeared inside his hair. "We must use you again," she said, "so different, it's as if you are covered in fur!"

It had gone, his curved member was no longer hard and excited or even visible. He slid, sheepishly, off the table towards his clothes to leave Sal as the only remaining naked person.

Sal sat up and blinked, looking around at all the faces and the still present glare of the lights. What had come over her? She looked down between her thighs at her sex, her no longer virginal sex. Semen, the product of not just one man was running from her. The pool of white just got bigger and bigger beneath Sal's spread thighs. She caught Mrs. Riley's eye who was looking at the pool of semen, clearly worried it might leave a mark on the mahogany table.

It is always a risk to polish if something gets spilt. And, certainly, a lot of semen had already been spilt into Sal and now out onto the table! Mrs. Riley turned towards the kitchen and then hurried to it and back with a freshly laundered tea towel and mopped firstly at Sal's dripping sex and then the table. The tea towel was soon soaked.

The members started to pack the equipment away.

Mrs. Riley seemed now to take an almost motherly interest in Sal. She said had never seen a woman quite so overcome with lust as Sal. And to think what a quiet little timid sort she had always seemed. Appearances were deceptive. Mrs. Riley and Sal both looked at the wringing wet tea towel in her hand. It would need washing. Left as it was, Mrs. Riley commented in her practical way, it would be as stiff as a board in the morning as if soaked in Robin starch.

Mrs. Riley helped Sal down from the table and back to the kitchen. She closed the door on them giving Sal privacy in which to dress. "You have a lovely body, my dear, Mr. Riley will be so sorry he never joined the club when I tell him all about this evening. Perhaps you might, perhaps you might consider a private shoot sometime. Just me and my camera – and Mr. Riley of course."

Sal drove home. Probably she should not have driven. She had not had one drink and most certainly was not under the influence of illegal drugs but... but, she was wobbly on her feet and her mind was in turmoil. She had driven to the photography group's meeting a virgin but was not anymore...

Now she had more than a little experience of men. Six men, no less had slid their so strange, but so pleasing, organs into her. The evidence of that was still within her. With one hand on the wheel Sal felt under her dress. She had had no knickers on when she drove to the meeting and she had none now. Her sex felt so different from normal, a sticky mess of... fluids. She brought her fingers up to her lips – the taste of men. She felt 'used' but not at all upset; she did not feel sore and, indeed, even after all that, her arousal had not subsided. Sal needed a shower but was not sure she would not play with herself before and during the wash. She hoped her fellow photography society members had been happy with the evening's poses and their photographs.

It had all been meant to be just the black lad and her posing but, well, things had got a little carried away – out of hand even - and then he had needed to be replaced once the group had found a taste for photographing tumescent penises. She understood that. Had she not been the same when first espying her neighbour and photographing his penis 'in the wild' of his garden? Perhaps, at a future meeting, the club might concentrate on that. She would love to be one of the photographers. Perhaps with all the club men one after another upon the table and being able to photograph erect penis after erect penis or even two or more in juxtaposition - 'a conversation of penises' perhaps. Had she invented a collective noun?

Sal unlocked her door and walked through her house. She pulled off her dress, noting, by the wet patch where she had been sitting in the car, that it would need washing. She stuffed it into the washing machine, walked to the French windows, and stepped out into the night. It was a hot, sultry night, just so appropriate for what had happened. Sal stretched, thinking she might take a little walk, it would be cooling and quiet. It was but a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and there she was at her garden door. All was indeed quiet as she unlocked it and stepped out into the faint moonlight.

Sal sat on the stile looking out over the field, the polished wood, where people had climbed over, under her buttocks. She sat quite still thinking about herself. Her sexuality had surprised her. She would not have thought she could so easily give into her impulses, how easily she had been aroused by the so delicious dark body of that boy and his polished wooden cock right there in the kitchen, and she so knew it was her that had pushed back onto it in the glare of the photography lamps, there upon the table. Not him but her. And had she not invited the other men – really?

Her thighs opened, and her fingers found her sex and played, enjoying how sticky it felt, how tactile, how sexual. Not the usual slippery feel but something else! So sensible of her to have gone onto the Pill. In her heart she had known what was coming: she just did not expect to have so many men all at once. Multiple men spurting their seed into her, men competing to fertilise her – only those million of spermatozoa from so many men would not find an ovum. Just as well! But the thought - virile men with hard and spurting penises. She shook her head. It was happening again, her arousal building. Abruptly she stood and turned to retrace her steps. Perhaps her neighbour was home.

There was light at the end of his garden and silently she moved towards it. The thought that perhaps his friends, Al and Vince, might be there as well. That would be too much. She just wanted to fuck a little... not a lot! Her neighbour, though, was alone, moving around tidying, still in his light shirt and trousers. She knocked on the glass though the French windows were open. He turned,