Cunning Lingus


Margeurite, Comtesse de Fouet, was coming to my home for a dinner party at which she would be the guest of honor. Recently I had traveled to India to obtain a 5th century lingus from the renowned school of Kama Sutra in Punjab, where it served as a constant inspiration to young women training in the sexual arts. The Comtesse intended to take the enormous phallic statue from me for display in her own private gallery. Indeed, I had traveled abroad at her bidding, interested to discover what these novitiates were learning in school. At the same time I had no intention of simply relinquishing this stone treasure for a few thousand francs. Marquerite would have to earn the prize. I wondered if she would be willing and able.

The bell rang at precisely six. Marguerite was wearing a long dress of finespun gray wool. I could not tell whether it was the irritation of the fabric or the brisk September air that caused her nipples to protrude beneath its solid weave. I unlocked the door of the shop and led her back to the salon. The lingus, prominently displayed on a mahogany table, elicited no reaction whatever. I bade her sit and wait for Coco. Her eyes flashed. Coco was a recent addition to my staff, a serving girl from Martinique. Her silky,chocolate skin, her pert breasts with even darker nipples and oversize aureolae, and her feline, muscular frame were the envy of many a guest to my home. I left to make final preparations.

A hole in the wall of my dressing room allowed me to observe the Comtesse. She sat perfectly still on the plush velvet couch, her eyes focused everywhere but on the object of her desire. When she was certain that no one was about to enter the room, she let her eyes drift to the immodestly proportioned phallus. She cupped both breasts in her hands, her fingertips caressing the still hardened nipples. Then, suddenly shy, she dropped her hands to her lap. After a deep breath, she rose to her feet, finding herself eye to eye with the imposing phallus. She drew near it with caution. Did she imagine it could harm her? Then, looking round once more to reassure herself she was alone, she reached out and placed her aristocratic palm on the head of the lingus, Akbatı escort bayan closing her eyes and letting her sense of touch guide her. Her hand made its way slowly up and down its surface, her fingertips tracing the delicately sculpted veins. She then began stroking it with both hands, encircling the shaft and toying with the head. She gave it a hug.

Lost in an erotic reverie, she failed to notice Coco entering the room. She was about to plant her lips on the massive head when Coco touched her sex, whose shape was hardly concealed beneath the taut wool dress. The startled Comtesse nearly leaped out of her skin.

“It is a very beautiful lingus, Madame. But there is a kind of lingus I am even more fond of. Can you think what that is?” Coco asked. The Comtesse softened her rigid stance and smiled at my dark beauty. “No, ma belle Coco. What kind might that be?”

“Cunnilingus. Have you heard of it?”

“Be so good as to explain.”And with that the Comtesse lay back on the velvet couch and opened her long legs, lifting her dress by its hem to expose her nether lips. I watched Coco’s long tongue dart at Marguerite’s clitoris, sliding again and again over that pink pearl.

From the dressing room I could hear the slurping and sucking. I could also hear the gasps and moans which the Comtesse was unable to stifle. I could even smell the pungent aroma of their mutual desire. The stage had been set. I burst into the salon. Coco arose gracefully, not in the least disturbed by my interruption. She had been expecting me. She wiped the juices from her moistened lips and laughed. I nodded for her to leave us.

Marguerite was still lying on the couch, dazed. She made no effort to conceal her glistening sex. I pulled down the hem of her dress for her and helped her to her feet. “Dinner is ready,” I said. The Comtesse de Fouet was startled to discover eleven masked men seated round the dinner table. I took my place and rang for Coco, who set an extra chair directly to my left. She then brought in the lingus for a centerpiece.

The Comtesse was at a loss. Here were eleven men in tuxedos and masks, but now that she cocked Escort Aksaray her head and looked more closely, none of them were wearing trousers. They were naked from the waist down. Her hands fluttered in her lap like wild birds. “My dear Comtesse,” I began, “this lingus has, for hundreds of years, inspired a great army of love. Those young women of the Punjab lucky enough to enter its School of Kama Sutra, looking upon this cock, were reminded of their supreme duty, to serve the gods of pleasure. No woman could leave without passing over the lingus. That is why, after several centuries, the stone is so very smooth. To prove yourself a worthy owner, my guests, seated round the table in order of size, will open you so that you too may pass over the lingus. None of them will take his pleasure. They are here only to serve you, to broaden you and render you worthy. The choice is yours. However, if you refuse the ritual, the lingus shall remain with me.”

The Comtesse blushed. Knowing her well, I saw in this reaction but the prelude to acceptance of my challenge. She rose and lifted the hem of herdress above her vagina. “I almost forgot,” I added, “as each man enters you from the front, the previous man shall enter you from behind. For the true student of Kama Sutra, every hole must serve the gods.”

The Comtesse gulped but said nothing. The first man, being the smallest, barely grazed the Comtesse’s loins. I was afraid she would laugh at the gent, whom I had nevertheless chosen for his size. As the Comtesse moved to straddle the second man, this miniature Lothario pushed into her anus. The Comtesse arched her back. He was a perfect appetizer. The men entered her to the hilt then quickly retreated. So quickly that the Comtesse found herself spinning like a dervish as they passed her along from cock to cock. Reaching the far end of the table, Marquerite found the men now large enough to fill her completely. It was from here that she would be stretched beyond her normal limits.

Coco brought in Virgin olive oil from Greece. The Comtesse managed to laugh as Coco spread a prodigious amount of oil upon her heated sphincter. The next two Ankara escort men entered her without incident. At the ninth man, moans of pleasure mingled with moans of pain as each man pushed through the still taut muscle that guarded her backside. Her vagina dripped with her own nectar.Even the tenth man to enter there did no harm. But as the ninth forced her derriere, she screamed.

From here on, each anal penetration elicited further screams, and even her sex was swollen. I offered to end the ritual then and there. I would have given her the lingus at that point, for I never dreamed she would go so far. But she had made a decision. She wished to prove herself worthy in her own eyes. There was nothing I could do to stop her. When she had finished the eleventh man, the Comtesse placed both arms around me to support herself. As she did so, she brushed again the bulge in my trousers. I do not brag when I confess the one gift nature has endowed me with is an exceptional virile member. Not so large that it would be painful for a woman accustomed to sex, but neither of a size as to invite comparison with ordinary men. I unbuttoned my trousers and exposed myself to the Comtesse. On seeing my manhood, she somewhat regained her composure. I sat back in my chair and pulled her down on my shaft. My last guest very slowly pushed into her burning anus. By this time, pain no longer registered. She begged him to continue as he retreated from her anus.

His exit left the Comtesse alone with only myself and Coco. I lifted her from me and turned her backside toward me before pulling the muscle slowly down over my manhood. Marguerite was in a state of complete abandon now, riding up and down its length. I could feel the tip of my penis pressing against her distended prostate. She lurched forward and back, but stopped suddenly when she realized that Coco was now holding the lingus at the entrance to her burning sex.

“Now, Coco!” she cried. Coco pushed, paused, then pushed again. Slowly, very slowly, the head of the lingus forced its way into her. It was larger than a fist. I thought to myself that it was like giving birth in reverse, taking into herself this monstrous idol. One final cry echoed off the walls as the lingus disappeared into her vagina, forcing me from her anus. I rose and moved around front. I could see half the lingus hidden inside her.

“It seems this lingus has found a welcome new home,” I said. The Comtesse de Fouet had indeed earned her prize…

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