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DOWN ON BENDED KNEES
Part Three of The Chronicles of Little Standing

Two days after the episode with Mrs. Carter I was again rising early in the morning. Well, the fact that it was in the morning meant that it was early for me. The country ways were clearly having their effect. I showered and dressed before going downstairs because I was not going to be caught by Mrs. Carter again.

Not that I hadn’t enjoyed the spirited and rampant fuck that had ensued from her finding me masturbating in my lounge room but I felt that it was probably better as a one-off experience.

Apart from the fact that she lived locally, did my household chores a few times a week and had a very hairy beaver I had no other knowledge of her. If she was Mrs Carter there was obviously a Mr. Carter somewhere and I did not need to meet an enraged yokel - and his shotgun - on some lonely lane. No. Playing it cool was my plan.

After our sweaty session in the kitchen she had quickly resumed her working personality and made it clear that I was better off out of her way. Out of the house would be even better. Fine by me! I had taken the hint, strolled about my small parcel of land, taken a few shots on my expensive camera and soaked up the sun, all the time enjoying the feeling that a well fucked bloke carries with him; one of smug satisfaction.

When I had returned it had been to find Mrs. Carter ready to leave. There were a couple of meals prepared for me. The open parts of the house (I was still unfamiliar with several closed-up sections of my own property) had been tidied and cleaned. Laundry hung on the line outside the kitchen window and another load swooshed about in the machine. I assured her I was able to handle that myself.

She had arranged to return the day after next and left me with a small smile, a coy little meeting of eyes and very little other indication that only hours before I had emptied my balls deep in her pussy. The kitchen floor that had displayed small puddles of our combined juices was now as clean as a whistle.

I had just made some breakfast when Mrs. Carter arrived for her arranged shift. “Morning to you,” she breezed. “Just met the Postie and there’s a couple of bits for you. Not wishing to be nosey but I reckon you should open the one on top first.” I studied the small pile that she had laid on the table beside me.

I could see the brown envelopes that donated the sort of bills that accompany any new address but on top was a splendid affair of an envelope. Just by looking I could tell that the paper was heavily expensive and once I picked it up I recognised its quality. The address was hand written with fine copperplate writing and the back flap carried a heavily embossed crest. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at Mrs. Carter.

“It’ll be Lady Penelope up at the Big House. You been summoned, you have!” Mrs Carter began to fill me in on the details.

Very soon I had discovered that the very head of the valley in which Little Standing nestled was overseen by the longest established household in this area. By longest established I mean more than a millennium. The family of Standing that gave their name to the Valley, had been in these parts prior to the Norman Conquest and had quietly, ruthlessly and exceedingly lucratively managed to keep on the correct side of every vagary of English history since. According to Mrs. Carter, anyway.

“So, don’t keep her waiting if you know what’s what,” she said turning away with a small smile playing about her mouth. I’m almost sure I heard her mutter something like, “...and she’ll show you what’s what, alright,” but I couldn’t be certain.
I slit the envelope with the clean knife that Mrs. Carted handed to me and a thick piece of paper slid from it. It was a formally addressed invitation to luncheon in two days. It apologised for such short notice which, it said, explained why it was a letter and not a card. OK, I’ll take its word for it, I thought! It then stipulated a code of Country Dress.

Luckily, I had come across this before and so it was that at the appointed time I was correctly attired as I crunched my way across the gravel approaching the heavy wooden double doors of Lady Penelope Standing’s country house. I tugged on the bell pull and almost at once the door was opened by the personification of an English Butler except that he seemed on the young side. I put him at about 30 rather than 50. However, he radiated a sort of genial warmth and I was whisked through the doorway and towards Lady Penelope’s presence with almost a smile.

The butler, he had named himself as Marston, rapped discreetly on a wood-panelled door, paused and then entered before announcing me. I strode in. I am quite confident when meeting titled persons, having been schooled with a few and met their families over the years. However, I am aware that many prefer a little deference at first from those of my “rank”, despite what they claim, and this is my usual approach. Let the fuckers believe I am in awe if they want to, I know the truth. Nevertheless, I was not prepared for Lady Penelope.

Mrs. Carter’s information regarding the long history of ancient power held by the family had made me think that I was to meet some sturdy, moustachioed old battle-axe, dressed in heavy tweed and expounding pre-war sentiments on the place of the working classes. What I had not expected was a simply gorgeous 35 years-old, dressed demurely but fashionably and seeming to be a little nervous.

She sat at a small table, bearing a simple floral display, before a large bay window that showed a view of the whole of the green valley below. As I crossed the polished floor I felt as if my knees were on backwards and that my arms were fitted with two elbows apiece, so awkward did her cool beauty make me feel.

She remained seated and so I had to bend forward just a little to take her proffered hand, a trick, apparently, that The Queen uses when she meets well known anti-royalists. It means that they have to perform a sort of bow no matter what!

The Lady was just that: an English rose etc but matured. Fair colouring, hair held back by clips from her face but tumbling to her shoulders. Large sparkling blue eyes, clear pale flawless skin with just a hint of a flush on the cheek. A longish but fine nose that gave her face character. Her small smile revealed perfectly white even teeth.

She wore a deeply blue cashmere cardigan that mirrored her eyes, over a blue, yellow and white floral print dress with a square neckline, a string of fine pearls loosely hanging over what was clearly a moderately sized bust. The fabric, looking light and summery, was held by a thin white belt at her waist so that it then flared gently from her hips. It ended just at her firmly closed knees as she sat.

Her legs were encased in fine tan nylons and her narrow feet were slipped into shiny black nothings of a high heel with enclosed toes, a fine strap circling her trim ankles as they rested one alongside the other.

With a jolt I suddenly realised that I had quite blatantly run my hostesses’ body under my gaze from head to toe. I snapped my head up from her shapely ankle to meet her gaze. It was just a touch less friendly than it had been and I felt myself colour slightly. Fuck! First I couldn’t walk properly and now I was practically blushing.

Luckily, any awkwardness was covered by the return of Marston announcing lunch. Lady Penelope stood and gestured me towards a door in the far wall that Marston had used. I allowed Lady Penelope to go before me of course and I noticed her slender build as well as the rounded swell of her bottom.

Tearing my eyes away and gulping I followed her through the doorway, breathing in her light floral scent. Here we found a large table that almost filled the room but was set for only two places, both at the end closest to the window. Lady Penelope explained that it offered a good view and we settled down to a civilised lunch. A few light dishes and just a couple of glasses of a light pale wine.

However, Lady P (as I couldn’t help thinking of her) had several glasses of water in addition to this. Another health fad, I assumed and I too drank this at her encouragement. We talked about the area and how I was settling in and so on. Polite small talk.

“One hears that you’ve made a few little friends amongst the villagers already,” said Lady P at one point. My first thought was the brief visit I had paid to the small local shop on the previous day and the somewhat over-friendly and inquisitive banter from the lady behind the till.

Lady P delivered this line with a completely straight face but Marston, who had just set the plates of the third course, seemed to make a small choking noise that alerted me to the fact that there may have been a slight undercurrent to her statement. He rapidly turned this to throat clearing and the moment passed. As he left the room Lady P began to tell me about some of the local events and pointing out landmarks in the vista.

Her voice was clear and well educated. It didn’t have any of the local people’s countryside burring and slurring but it hadn’t quite the cut-glass piercing tone of the poshest people I had met so often before either. It was a mesmerizing voice. Young and lively. Expressive. Entrancing. Sexy.

I found myself watching her painted lips forming the sounds and shapes of the words rather than listening to the actual meaning. I nodded, smiled and made small prompting sounds as she wove her magical spell around me with her language. After a short pause I offered a few comments regarding the village and the area but I refrained from asking her direct questions and she did the same in return. This seemed to go down well, rather than a blunt Q&A session. As the luncheon drew to an end she became a little more business like and offered an explanation for my summons.

“I actually hold a fair amount of power locally,” she informed me. “All sorts of legally binding ancient statutes go with the title. Your land is within my boundaries, so to speak. You have all the modern rights but I have a few that pre-date yours by several centuries… at least. In short, I am a presiding Lord of the Manor. I have a room here where I am as empowered as any Judge in the High Court, within my own bounds of course. If we go there now I can legally give you the nod, as it were, and you can settle in. Would that be suitable for you?” I nodded dumbly. “Jolly good,” she breathed. “Come on, then.”

She stood and made for another door. I followed, once again taking in her rear view. I noticed that the nylons she wore had a seam running down the back of her legs and I twigged that they were actually old-fashioned stockings. Her stride was now quite bold and confident and I pattered along behind her as we made several twists and turns into older and older looking corridors. Finally, we reached a set of heavy wooden double doors with arcane carvings in the panels. Before she so much as touched these they swung inwards. She strode though and I followed.

The small room we entered had at one end, to the left, a raised stage, only a foot high, made with wooden floor-boards. On this was a heavy wooden desk with an ornate high-backed chair behind it. The wall behind had two large flags, with their poles crossed. Running along the centre part of the front of this stage was a waist-high wooden bar. This was a sort of barrier between the desk and the lower area in which we stood.

There were then a few yards of space before four rows of old wooden benches. The floor was covered in drab linoleum the only feature of which was a small drain by the farther wall. I noticed that the floor sloped slightly towards that side. In that wall were a couple of small church-style windows, high up, letting a diffused sunlight through.

As I took in this I was startled by a movement behind me to my left. I turned sharply and saw an unsmiling Marston closing the double doors. He was wearing a robe that covered him from neck to toe and was of a rich blue material embroidered in gold thread. I goggled at this transformation and heard Lady P’s light titter.

I turned back to her and saw that she was now on the standing on the stage in front of the desk but behind the barrier. “Yes, it’s quite a fashion statement isn’t it? They are ceremonial robes and add a little pomp and gravitas to the event. Marston is a stickler for the old ways as his family has been here almost as long as mine. It is entirely customary,” she breathed, “and one does like to keep the old traditions alive. Now, come over here,” she ordered.

I walked to Lady P once more taking in her cool beauty. I got within three paces of her and she held the flat of her hand up.

“That’ll be close enough, I think,” she purred. I halted. “Now, the applicant - that’s you, dear - should get down on their knees. So down you go.”

I hesitated a moment but she merely notched her head slightly to one side and raised a beautifully groomed eyebrow. I lowered myself to my knees. She leant forward slightly so that she was resting against the bar, the edge of which cut across her lower belly. She planted her feet shoulder width apart, the toes of her black high-heeled shoes pointing straight forward at me.

My eyes were level with her stomach and I could not but notice how the light material of her floral print dress now hung between her parted thighs as the barrier forced her dress material gently backwards. I could make out the smooth mound of her sex under the thin fabric.

“Now then,” she began, and, raising her right hand a little to one side said, “I, Lady Penelope Honoria Standing of the Standing Valley, exercising the time-honoured powers invested in me, do hereby grant the applicant,” and here she spoke my name, “full and unfettered access to all parts and parcels, paths and by-ways that lie within the boundaries of my demesne providing that he not abuse this honoured position of trust. There, that’s done!” she drawled.

I made a move to stand but… “Ah, no, if you’ll remain kneeling please. There is a second part that comes into play in this situation when the title holder – that’s me – is of a different gender of the applicant, providing that they are legally unattached. Now, I believe you are a single man?” I nodded dumbly.

“Jolly good,” she sighed. “You see, in the past the Lord and landholder were nearly always males. When he performed this ceremony for a woman it was either because she was the only surviving offspring of a farmer’s family or she was a widow of the same. The old Lords took it upon themselves to grant themselves the right of congress with all such women. Being terribly sexist they did not expect the title holder to be a woman. Which I am,” she smiled. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now what with your incessant ogling of my body since you first arrived!”

“Busted!,” I thought. But merely flushed a little and dipped my head in acknowledgement. This woman had the most incredible power radiating from her so that any sentence she uttered seemed entirely true and justified and was immediately obeyed.

“So, you are going to have to act out a small ritual to seal the bargain we’ve made.” At this she delicately turned side-on to the bar she had leant against and raised her bottom on to it. Then with a flowing move she lifted her legs around to the front so that now she was resting her backside against the barrier rather than her stomach.

The flowing move sent her skirts lifting and I was treated, as I knelt before her, to a glimpse of stocking top, creamy upper thigh and also a silky pair of champagne coloured French knickers. I felt a sudden tingle in my balls at this. The close proximity to such a delightful sight, her delicate perfume flooding my senses and several glasses of wine floating in my brain all combined to arouse me. What followed simply stunned me. Still looking haughtily down on me she grasped the edge of her dress and slowly raised it so that it tented out from the belt at her waist.

At this I felt Marston move behind me and his powerful hands gripped me under the armpits and lifted me bodily forward. My knees were now up against the stage and my face just inches from Lady P’s silk clad pussy. Gently but firmly Marston pushed at the back of my head until I was resting my cheek against the warm flesh of her thigh.
Lady P spoke. “The old Lords would take the woman they wanted, as I said, until, as the documents have it, their completion. In other words, until they orgasmed. I intend to do the same to you.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand. At this she lowered her skirts and I was encased in crisp cloth.

It was clear what I was to do. I was suddenly eager to pleasure her despite the head-spinning rapidity with which the situation had arisen. Marston must have realised I wasn’t resisting and his hand stopped pushing at me and merely rested on my shoulder.

Almost at once in my entrapped cover I noticed the unmistakeable scent of a woman on heat. The slightly sharp fragrance, yet warm and musky at the same time. As I felt my prick expand in my pants I ran my hands quickly up under dress on the outside of Lady P’s thighs. The stockings were smooth and rich under my touch and then there was a brief touch of firm warm flesh as I reached the tops of them.

I was under her skirts within a fairly dim room but I could see enough to find the edge of her loose lingerie. I deftly moved the loose legged garment to one side and was rewarded with a close up view of a delicately furred groove. Her legs parted a little more and I leant the last inch forwards.

My tongue snaked out and I felt the light tickle of soft curls against it before it made contact with her sex. That first contact conveyed the heat of her smooth skin and I lapped gently there. Then, emboldened, I probed further until my tongue touched the sticky flesh of her inner slit. It wasn’t yet slick but the heat of her made it feel tacky to my touch.
My hand slid under the silky material and I eased her mound delicately to one side thus opening her humid groove. Again, her thighs inched wider and then I had fully engaged my mouth to her pussy. I felt one of her legs lift and hook itself over my shoulder, pulling me closer.

Her sex opened fully onto my mouth and I was amazed at how wet her innermost parts suddenly became. Her slick flesh smeared itself across my lower face as her twat spread itself and I extended my tongue to penetrate her hole. Its tangy taste sparkled on my taste buds as I curled the tip against the soft ridges of flesh that it encountered deep within her. The full blast of her oily scent flooded my nostrils.

She pushed herself onto my mouth and I felt a subtle rhythm begin in her hips. I gently bounced my mouth in response whilst I flicked and curled my tongue inside her hot, gently clasping, orifice. My hands massaged her thigh on one side and, where she had straddled me, her butt cheek on the other.

Marston still had a hand on my back and I felt it massage me before his other hand joined in. This awareness was secondary to how focused I was on my pleasuring of Lady P. I had enjoyed the fresh delicate taste and aroma of her cunt so much that I had gone straight to the source of her moisture. I now became aware of the hard nub of her clitoris against the side of my nose and automatically began to lap my way to it.

I withdrew my tongue from her depths and slathered over her slippery outer slit, sucking her slimy skin into my mouth. She bore down on me from her dominant position and I felt my tongue suddenly rasp against her clitty hood, pushing it off her tiny spike. I gobbled this between my greedy lips and formed a vacuum around its base with them, drawing the tingling organ into my hot mouth there to flick and circle it with my fluid tongue.

Even with my head buried beneath her skirts I could now hear her gasps and sighs as her pleasure grew. I also realised that Marston’s firm hands had been busy too. He had slipped my jacket off, loosened my shirt from my trousers and had managed to unbutton it a little too. As I knelt before her Ladyship I felt firm hands begin to caress my buttocks. I was in a state of great arousal now but this did give me a little pause.

I’ll be honest and say I’ve had one or two close encounters with blokes in the past but it had been a while ago and generally I was all about the ladies. But something about the action of those firm hands on my arse and thighs only added to the thrill of this already unusual situation. Basically, I thought, what the heck - go for it!

As Lady Penelope was on her raised platform I was knelt almost upright to be able to orally service her. It was easy then for Marston to slide his hand to my front and deftly loosen my belt and trousers. He eased them down my thighs and then did the same to my underwear. He had to hoick the elastic over my raging erection before he could finally free my cock. I felt it wave and sway as I continued giving a damn good licking to her Ladyship’s dripping fanny.

By now her thighs were thrusting at me and my head bobbed back and forth as I sucked greedily on her clitoris. I still grasped one arse cheek but now I slid a hand from her thigh to her pussy and pierced her cloying labia with first one then two fingers. I kept them right at her entrance and wiggled them side by side to stimulate all her nerve endings there.

Then I felt upwards and outwards with my digits to lightly clamp the internal wrinkled mound of her G-spot. This was what finally did it for her and I felt her bend forward as she pushed down onto me. She squealed and shuddered as she ground her cunt hard against my face, her hands gripping the back of my head. My fingers shot deeper up her hole as she writhed on them and her fleshy tube clenched them in orgasmic spasms.

I was flexing myself too, lower down, so that my cock jerked solidly. Just as I considered grabbing it I felt another hand grip the base of my shaft and squeeze. Marston had left off his fondling as Lady P. orgasmed but he was back now. His hand, however, was not rubbing me -just gripping as if to limit my movement.

Lady Penelope came down off her orgasmic high and slid her leg from my shoulder to the floor again, thus closing her legs. Marston returned a hand to my shoulder (one still gripped my dick) and eased me backwards. Lady P. pulled the dress from over my head and the cool air of the ancient room ran across my juice-smeared face and mouth. I looked up and saw Penelope smiling benevolently down at me.

She still held her dress up away from her crotch and I had a lovely view up at her from my lowly subservient position. Her lightly furred pussy gleamed with her recent spending and her flesh was flushed with her heat. The pink inner lips now protruded slackly from the twin outer labia. I felt my prick throb in Marston’s hand. I could now see he was kneeling beside me, still wearing his ornate robes.

Slightly breathlessly, Lady Penelope spoke. “You’ve certainly fulfilled your essential duty. Admirably, if I may say so. There is, however, a second part to the ritual that is more of a custom than a necessity. From what I’ve heard of your behaviour with the Tanya girl on your arrival you’ll be agreeable to our ways!” As she spoke her well-manicured fingers lightly stroked her swollen labia.

I gaped at her. How had she known about the quick rutting I’d had with a local maid on the night I arrived? “Don’t be surprised,” she said, “very little remains a secret around these places for long! No, I speak of the little welcoming tradition she was performing when you met”.

Again, I gaped at Lady Penelope. Tanya had attracted my attention when she had become entangled in bushes whilst pissing near the entrance to my newly bought land. She later claimed it was a kind of tradition dating back eons but I hadn’t really believed her. I had thought it a way of passing off an embarrassing incident.

“You mean the pis… urinating she was doing?” Weird how, even though I’d just sucked the love juice from between this woman’s legs, I couldn’t bring myself to say “pissing” to her!

“Quite,” she replied coolly as she continued her slow self-arousal. “Now. Will you join in with our custom?”

I felt in no position to decline. I was after all still kneeling before her, semi naked with a raging hard-on that was being gripped by an oddly dressed servant! I nodded my assent. “Very well,” she said, ”let Marston help you”.

The butler released my prick and quickly slipped my shirt from me and then helped me to stand. Just as proficiently he removed my shoes, socks and then the bundled mass of my trousers and underwear. A true butler! I was now standing stark naked and throbbingly erect as Lady Penelope continued her slow, dreamy stroking of her slick sex.
She nodded to Marston. “Disrobe,” she ordered. In one movement the butler gripped the neck of the heavy robe and pulled it apart. It had covered him to the floor and I now saw that he was entirely naked beneath it! He had a well-muscled body with dark hair covering the lower belly. This led down to a well-trimmed pubic area, equally as dark. Standing proudly from this stubbled mound was as fine a dick as you could wish to see.

As I’ve said I am basically hetero but having been to an all-boy’s school and mixed with the wilder elements of rock musicians whilst on the road I have had a few experiences of same-sex fooling about. Marston was moderately tanned and though not tall was compact and powerful in his appearance.

His penis stood a good 7 thick inches vertically from his groin where as mine tends to protrude at 90 degrees to my body. His shaft was also tanned and dark, with smooth skin along its length rather than a gnarled veiny appearance. He also had a foreskin, the rim of which was just pulled back enough to show the eye of his cock and the glistening pool of pre-cum oozing from it. A pair of heavy balls swung low from below this shaft.

I am circumcised and my taut exposed helmet was bulging a deep red colour as it too oozed juice. Even as I eyed Marston’s cock a long strand of my clear emission strung itself toward the linoleum covered floor. I saw Lady Penelope’s fingers increase in speed over her pussy as this happened and heard a little moan emerge from her.

“Quickly, please, Marston…unzip me.” She turned her back to us, shrugging off her cardigan, and Marston stepped up to loosen the zipper at the back of her neck. In one swift movement the pretty garment fell to the floor where Lady P. kicked it to one side. I noted how the silk of her French knickers cling to her beautifully firm bottom before she turned again to us.

A lacy bra cupped her moderate breasts but her nipples were clearly erect beneath the expensive material. Her firm stomach was now exposed to me, the navel peeping out just above the elastic band of her knickers. “You will have noticed how I insisted we both drank water with our wine?” she asked. As soon as she spoke I realised just how full my bladder was feeling.

“It’s all part of the custom. Please, Marston,” she said with a nod. Despite the strangeness of the situation the manservant knew his duty. He knelt, gathered his cloak and spread it on the floor and then indicated that I lay on it. Suddenly I knew what was coming.

I eased myself back onto the luxurious cloak and stretched out. I propped myself up on my elbows so that I could still watch Lady Penelope. My prick now twitched along my body, it’s dripping eye smearing my stomach with my excitement. It pulsed and throbbed with both arousal and the almost sharp pains of a straining bladder. Lady P stepped from the stage to the floor and stood at my feet looking down at me. She hooked her fingers into her panties and let the silk flow to the floor.

Expertly she caught the material with one foot and took a couple of paces to one side. Standing now to my left she raised her left foot and let the sleek cloth play across the taught length of my raging prick. She swept it back and forth and my penis bucked and reared uncontrollably. I looked up towards the side view of her protruding sex mound and greedily took in the view of her small flaps playing peek-a-boo.

Marston was stood to my right side, opposite his Mistress. His upright cock also twitched and I saw a strand of his lubrication bulge out from his slit and then slowly descend in a thinning trail towards me. It landed just at the junction of my shaft and scrotum with a warm and luscious feel. His Mistress flicked at this pool of juice with the silk cloth and smeared it over my ball sack. Her fingers had returned to her pussy once more.

Then she flicked the knickers from her dainty shoe and straddled my hips. I whimpered a little in anticipation and more clear juice slicked from my cock. She slowly lowered herself so that she was squatting over me, her crotch just inches below my balls. Marston’s heavily pulsing shaft was by her face as he stood almost to attention but she was focused on my body.

She put a hand either side of her slit and spread her sex wide. I could see her slim inner lips encircling both the pit of her vagina, its own outermost muscle clearly evident as it gaped open a little, and also the small mound of her urethra as it stood proud of her tautly stretched snatch. Crowning this her clitoral shaft was short but thick and the pale point of it had poked its nose from its cover.

She breathed heavily through her nose a couple of times and her belly muscles writhed and flexed. Then a small jet of palely yellow liquid squirted from her piss-hole. It hit my shaft dead on and I felt the heat of it before it abruptly stopped. Then, this initial bolt shot, the full flood of her golden nectar sprang from her and gushed, frothing, over my balls and prick and belly.

I yelled out loud as the heat of it covered me and then, beyond any control of mine, I too released a thick stream of piss. It was painfully ecstatic and ecstatically painful to pass such a heavy torrent through my iron hard cock and I groaned as the flow arched up my body, over my chest to my throat.

Lady Penelope too was crying out at the sight of my piss-soaked body before Marston dropped to his knees, grabbed my pissing shaft and aimed it back towards his Mistress. This had the effect of restricting the flow to an almost painful degree but again the pain was mixed deeply with pleasure.

Between them they aligned our two flows so that as her hissing liquid speared at my engorged glans my own stream – now split into two distinct arcs due to the tautness of my erection – coated both her pubes and her deeply pink sex simultaneously.

Our flows seemed endless as the rich steamy aroma of our waters filled the room. The robe beneath me squelched warmly around my taut buttocks as I began to make small fucking motions into Marston’s hand where it gripped the base of my shaft. His knuckles where drenched in the hot piss of his Lady as she continued to spend her bladder’s contents over me and my hot shaft slid easily back and forth.

As a river of our piss snaked across the sloping floor I realised what the small drain was for. I ached for a release much deeper than that of my piss yet revelled in the sight of my pee slickly blasting the perfect pussy of this glamourous woman. Her tan coloured stockings darkened as stray jets from both of us ran from her sex to them.

Inevitably both of our streams began to falter and ease but just at this point Marston managed to extend the scenario. Whilst still holding my shaft he took hold of himself with his free hand and pointed his vertical erection downwards. The strain of this on such a fully erect shaft saw the covering of his foreskin pull back to reveal a deep purple knob. The skin caught momentarily on the ridge of spongy flesh before the helmet fully popped free.

I saw the whole organ bulge in his grip and then the good servant cried out as his own fierce stream gushed from him. Almost at once the heavy flow divided itself so that almost perfectly it began to drench both Penelope and myself. Lady P adjusted her cunt slightly so that she caught the full force of one of the streams and began to frig herself lustily.

Now Marston released the base of my dick and so I grasped the top of my prick and squeezed a big glob of my pre-cum into my palm. Instantly I began to strop away at my cock, still greedily gazing at the hot piss streams coming from him as well as the flashes of pink as Lady P’s cunt gaped and closed, gaped and closed under the assault of her fingers dripping with her servant’s urine.

In tune with one another both Lady P and I wanked rapidly as Marston continued to drench us in his hot piss. He knelt now with both hands on his hips, eyes closed, the great arcs of his liquid raining down on the pair of us. I was fast approaching climax and just as the last of the few dribbles of my own piss left me I watched as Marston’s torrent reformed into one single line and powerfully splash across the chest of his Lady.

Instantly, the pale brassiere became translucent under the scalding stream and her darkened nipples became visible. Sensing this she tugged violently at one nipple through the soaked cloth whilst continuing her pussy rubbing. It was this that sent me over the edge.

Once more I cried out, this time as a thick bolt of my creamy grey spunk shot from me and fell across my soaked belly. It landed on my chest with a splatter and spread across the piss there. A second bolt of equal ferocity ripped from my shaft but I had pushed my cock vertical and this jet shot all around like some fleshy garden sprinkler.

Blobs of cum sprayed every which way. Some hit me, some landed on Marston’s thighs and still more flew onto Lady Penelope’s hand and stockings. I think it was this that finally did it for her and she too wailed and rammed her fingers deep into her slurping hole, pounding herself to another orgasm. I continued to pulse diminishing squirts of cum from my prick as her knees hit the floor either side of my hips, her orgasm draining her strength.

As a final act in this bizarre ritual Marston stood up, regripped his still pissing cock, and began to rapidly slide his foreskin back and forth over his vastly swollen bulb. Penelope quickly climbed off my legs and lay herself down next to me on the saturated robe, pressing her hot body along the length of my side and breathing heavily onto my neck.


I too watched his sexual display and it kept my cock in a semi rigid state, still slowly leaking sperm, to watch his beautiful organ being so ably stroked. Finally, after several heavy grunts his dark balls tightened in their sac. Then with a few rapid squeezes right on the tip of his prick he shot a massive load of sperm from it.

The ejaculation was so long and forceful that, rather than the usual micro-second long squirts, it left his cock like it was another full-on stream of piss. It must have lasted a good few of seconds for the first load alone. This vast torrent of thick jism jetted over both Lady Penelope and me as we lay at Marston’s feet.

Penelope’s wanking suddenly increased and once more she came, this time biting into my shoulder as squirt after squirt of thick spunk pattered down upon us. My own cock gave a final sympathetic throb and produced a last gobbet of oily cum to mix with the magnificent juice and piss of the servant that had splashed over my chest and stomach.

Marston’s efforts finally ended and his wanking slowed. He tottered backwards and slumped onto one of the wooden benches there. Both lady P and myself remained flat out on the floor, entirely drained, in every sense of the word! I for one drifted into an almost hypnotic state before I felt her Ladyship stir. She rolled away from me and before I could get my eyes back open she was standing upright beside me. Then she quickly gathered her dress and slipped it back over her head.

“Marston,” she spoke, “zip me up.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said the still naked servant and shakily stood up to assist her. Once covered Lady Penelope turned on her heels and looked over the room imperiously.

“Once you’ve helped our guest with his attire and shown him out, Marston, I want this place thoroughly cleaned!” So saying she swept majestically from the room without a backwards glance.