Further Annals of the Friday Flower
The members of the Friday Flower Club took a while to attune themselves to the dramatic change in the nature of the Club. None of its previous metamorphoses – from flower arranging via creative writing to cookery – had prepared them for the impact of collective masturbation. The experience, powerful and irresistible as it had been, arrived without warning. They were, after all, six women, all more or less of a certain age, with respectable if unexciting life styles. Even when Marjorie had introduced the subject of sex to their teatime conversation, not one of them could have foreseen that within minutes they would have been working towards self-induced communal orgasm.
Beyond any doubt, they had enjoyed it. That was the problem. While their upbringing induced feelings of guilt, the experience left them wanting more. Marjorie, the original catalyst, was the one who persuaded them that no harm would come from continuing. The problem was quite how to begin when they next gathered together.
A possible solution was offered, very tentatively, by Helen. She was the oldest of the women by a year or two but still with an open mind and an imagination more vivid than her husband would have believed. “If you remember last time,” she said, peeling back her skirt and opening her legs for the others to see that her knickers were coffee-coloured and lacy rather than the everyday white she had worn at the earlier meeting, “you will recall it was Marjorie who started us off; but we still needed something else to take us all the way. You know, help us – I think the expression is – get ourselves off. And that was when Jo knelt down in front of Ann and …”
Whatever the next expression was meant to be, Helen couldn’t quite bring herself to articulate it. No matter. Nods of agreement were enough. They all remembered Jo with her head between Ann’s thighs, the way Ann pressed forward on to the lapping tongue, and finally the sight of Jo’s heaving frenzy as she reached her own resolution.
“Well,” Helen suggested, “perhaps Jo would start us off now. With someone else.”
“I think I might like that very much,” said Jo, getting to her feet. “I think, too, that you could be the one to help me. What we’ve seen so far looks good. Stand up and show us more.”
Helen could hardly refuse; in truth, she felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect of succumbing to Jo’s sexual advances while the other women watched. They stood together in the centre of the room. Jo, with a rounded figure and full breasts, was a few inches taller than Helen, whose neat waist and pert bosom made an interesting contrast.
“First, let’s get rid of some clothes.” Jo reached round her izmir escort partner as though to unzip her dress at the back; instead, she drew the older woman into a firm embrace and then a deep, demanding kiss. Helen’s mouth opened. Tongues probed. Helen clung on to disguise the weakness seeping into her legs.
When the undressing proceeded, Jo encouraged Helen to play her part. Garments were discarded until only knickers remained, Jo’s lime green, Helen’s coffee. Jo made Helen bend over so that the onlookers could see the fabric stretched across her bottom. Marjorie leaned forward from her chair to caress the protruding buttocks before gripping the waist band to initiate the removal of the final veil. Jo stepped out of her own underwear. Her vulva was shaved and protuberant. Helen’s groin displayed a trimmed triangle of greying hair.
They kissed again, slowly, deeply, sensuously. Helen, all inhibitions swept away, reached for Jo’s breasts and drew out the stiffening nipples before allowing herself to be taken down to the carpet. Cynthia gave them a cushion from the sofa to place under Helen’s bottom. Jo knelt between Helen’s legs and began her ministrations. It was cunnilingus demonstrated by a mistress of sapphic artistry.
Around the focal pair the others were no longer passive spectators. Marjorie was now as naked as the two who were giving the exhibition. Sylvia had stripped to the same white silk knickers that had been admired before. Ann and Cynthia’s clothing was in varying stages of disarray only because they had been unable to wait before starting to masturbate.
Once again, desire overcame any vestige of self-consciousness. Helen was moving with mounting intensity as two fingers in her vagina combined with an insidious tongue that danced on her clitoris. Determined that Jo should not miss out, Marjorie fell to her knees behind her, kissing plump buttocks, her tongue teasing the exposed pink sphincter while her hand between her own legs sustained her own high level of arousal.
A week earlier the climax of this erotic explosion had been partially subdued, moans and gasps repressed by women unused to losing control in the presence of others they knew only socially. Now it was different. There were wails and wordless cries as one orgasm erupted after another until all were done.
The aftermath, too, was unlike its predecessor. Inevitably some reticence remained but there were smiles and giggles as discarded garments were retrieved by their owners. The atmosphere had changed significantly. One such surrender to the senses might have been dismissed as an aberration, a moment of contagious alsancak escort madness. Twice had been a matter of choice. They were committed, content to be where they were. Before they broke up, it was agreed that Jo should continue to be ice-breaker, at least until all had taken a turn at the centre of attraction.
In fact, that proved unnecessary. At the next meeting, while Jo was attending to Cynthia, Marjorie plunged a hand inside Ann’s knickers; soon there were three couples side by side on the floor. Sixty-nine positions were taken. Partners were exchanged. The last pair to finish were Cynthia and Sylvia, brought to the brink and beyond, noisily and unrestrainedly, by the fingers and lips of those already sated themselves. It may not have been an orgy but it was certainly the next best thing.
The Friday Flower Club had entered an era from which a return was neither necessary nor desired.
There was one small downside. Between the first and second meetings, Ann and Jo had taken more than one opportunity to console each other for the lacklustre and infrequent bedroom performance of their respective husbands. Jo, as we have seen, had an innate empathy with another woman’s sexual need and the skill to develop it in new, consuming directions before taking it to its ultimate fulfilment. Under such loving caresses, Ann blossomed. But when Jo’s talent was directed towards another member of the Friday Flower Club Ann could not deny a sharp needle of jealousy.
The unhappiness was confronted when Jo drove them to the next meeting. Ann was reassured to have the issue out in the open and was gratified when Jo chose her to start the Club carousel. Before the afternoon was over she had relaxed into multiple orgasms brought on by more than just Jo.
By fortunate chance, they had been meeting at Cynthia’s house a few miles beyond where suburban housing gave way to open countryside. On the return trip, Jo asked, “Are you in a hurry?”
“Not really. Roger’s got a meeting. Drinks afterwards, probably. Won’t be home for a couple of hours yet.”
“Good.” Jo said no more before turning into a country lane which led into a wooded area with a car park used during the day mostly by dog walkers and hikers. This late in the year, it was already dark and the car park was deserted. Nothing needed to be said. Ann opened her mouth to Jo’s kiss, unbuttoned her friend’s blouse, turned back her own skirt and sighed contentedly when Jo’s hand slipped easily between her legs. She was still wet from the multiple frictions from many hands and lips she had enjoyed earlier.
Before buca escort long, both were bare from the waist down and Jo was crouching down to administer the kind of attention that could lift Ann to the outer edges of ecstacy. The car began to rock on its suspension. Jo was talking softly while her fingers engendered controlled arousal. There was time. The longer Ann’s orgasm could be delayed, the more emotional was the moment when she could endure no longer and cried out to be given release.
But the sound she suddenly uttered now was unfamiliar, a cry almost of fear. “What’s the matter, darling,” Jo asked. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean – “
“No – look. Outside!”
Jo lifted her head from a soaking vulva and looked where Ann was indicating. A middle-aged man was standing close to the car, peering inside. His zip was open and he was vigorously handling an erect penis.
“Don’t worry.” Jo put a hand on Ann’s shoulder to keep her down; there was unfinished business. “A voyeur. My fault. I suppose I should have expected it but I got carried away. He’s almost certainly harmless and we’ve given him a good show. Wait.” She wound the window half open. The man began to back away but Jo beckoned him to approach. When he did so, she scooped up her knickers from the car floor and handed them out to the man. Momentarily, he hesitated, then understood. Nodding his thanks, he wrapped the cream silk round his penis and resumed masturbating. Jo closed the window. “He won’t trouble us. It will be like being watched at the Club. Maybe better.”
With that, Jo settled again to her task. Scarcely able to believe herself, Ann found she was turned on by this new element, the male involvement in a kind of arm’s length threesome. She allowed herself to come easily under Jo’s touch, then reversed positions and applied her mouth to the shaven lips between her friend’s thighs, felt them tremble, was aware of Jo’s hands on the back of her head, and suddenly it was done.
Coming up for air she looked out in time to see the man steady himself with a hand against the car roof while his other hand whipped the silk knickers along the length of his shaft. She had not realised before how formidably endowed he was. After two more strokes, he shuddered and instantly held the intimate garment a few inches from the tip of his penis so that they had a clear view of his prolonged ejaculation; his repayment for what they had allowed him to see.
The man used the knickers to clean himself, then held them out, offering them back to Jo. Smiling, she shook her head and blew him a kiss. He gave a thumbs up and put the knickers in his pocket before melting away into the trees.
Tissues sufficed for the two women to absorb excess moisture. Nothing was said until Jo had started the car and set off for home. Ann looked sideways at her friend and said, “I’m learning things about you all the time. Things I would never have believed.”
Jo smiled. “Good,” she said.
(To be continued)