Thursday 4 June 2009
The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again - Part 19
VENETIA LEERBOURN-ZEAL
The next day was a fantastic sunny day as usual, the palm trees on the Brompton Road swayed in a gentle breeze. I opened the gallery about eleven o’clock and accepted a delivery of large brass sculptures of Aphrodite by Kimble Dine, a good friend of Sarah Cavendish-Peel. Sarah was at an auction at Sotheby’s for most of the day, there were some old Dutch landscapes by Jacob Van Ruisdael she was after amongst other things. She was quite tired from several days partying, but had plenty of coke to get her through the day. She had the hots for Eckings, so that would help too.
A Mercedes convertible parked up outside the gallery and Venetia Leerbourn-Zeal emerged as cheerful as ever. She was a wonderful silhouette; the undisputed owner of the prettiest legs in London. Blonde hair tied up, huge Balenciaga sunglasses, a Marc Jacobs blue and black outlined zip front spruce cape jacket and blue leather mini skirt, black leather gloves by Lanvin and Jimmy Choo black leather Seattle platform sandals. She carried a large blue leather Chloe bag with a silver zip around the bottom circumference.
‘Hello Hugo darling’ she said joyfully, pivoting on a Jimmy Choo heel, admiring the new Aphrodite statues. She paced around the gallery with an elegant hand held in a loose fist close to her chin and the Chloe bag swinging in the crook of the same arm, click-clicking in her Jimmy Choos. Those Jimmy Choos. A bulge was developing in my Dior underpants and Venetia acknowledged it, as she pushed her sunglasses on to her head, raising a plucked eyebrow.
‘How was the orgy at Carinthia’s, darling’ she asked, running a leather gloved hand along the stone erect penis, similar to the one in the film Clockwork Orange.
‘It was fun, plenty of caviar and sex’ I said.
‘Oh yah, caviar is certainly a prerequisite’ she purred in a very posh accent. ‘I have copious amounts of beluga caviar back at my place, darling. Mmmmmm. I was wondering if you could deliver this beautiful stone penis to my new house on Wellington Square. Such a lovely big cock will harmonize just beautifully with my amorous Rowlandsons. It’s almost as substantial as yours, Hugo’
‘Those shoes are ridiculously high’ I said, my cock twitching as I perused them.
‘Jimmy Choo daaaarling’ smiled Venetia ‘I bought them a few days ago in Harvey Nicks, aren’t they just sooo terribly sexy. I was so close to getting the Alaia sandals with cowries on, too. Maybe tomorrow. Izzy Buckworth-Chard bought some incredible Alaia python wedges.’
‘Hot heels all around’ I said. ‘Of course, I can take the cock back to your place, I’ll get it in the van with the crane and I’ll follow you over’
‘Excellent, well, let’s make a move then, I’m parked in front of your old van’ said Venetia, caressing my bulge with a Lanvin gloved hand. ‘Why don’t you invest in a lovely modern Mercedes van?’
‘The van has sentimental value, it was abandoned on the Fulham Road a while ago, it is stained with fond memories and it does the job, when it starts’ I said. I managed to manipulate the hefty member into the back of the Transit as Venetia sat elegantly waiting in her blue leather upholstered convertible, drenched in sunshine.
I turned the ignition key and the engine turned over but wouldn’t start. The van hadn’t been started for weeks. I wound the window down ‘Sorry Venetia, it may take a while to get the van started’. I tried several times but it wouldn’t go.
Venetia got out of her car and stood on the pavement, arms folded. Sunglasses glinting. Pivoting on a Jimmy Choo heel.
The van engine cranked over and over, but wouldn’t fire. Venetia got back in her car and smoked a Marlboro light. I kept trying to start the van. ‘Come on, old van, Venetia wants her cock from Cairo!’
‘Bloody old clapper’ laughed Venetia, perched elegantly ensconced in the leather seating of her convertible. She put a Jimmy Choo shod foot up on the dashboard. Now she was teasing. Those Jimmy Choos looked like an advert in a glossy magazine, placed on the sumptuous leather instrument panel of her Mercedes CLK. A Guy Bourdin moment.
The van cranked over slowly and erratically as the battery got low. ‘Looks like it needs a new battery’ I said through the open window ‘Do you have jump leads?’
‘No, darling’ said Venetia. ‘I have a dog lead, that’s all’
‘That won’t help’ I said
‘Oh I can tow you’ she said ‘Have you got a tow rope?’
‘Yes’ I said ‘plenty of rope, I’ll get it hitched up’
‘This is all rather novel, darling’ smiled Venetia, getting out of her car and following me into the gallery to get the rope. ‘You can tie me up with that later’
‘Ha ha. I could bring some chains too, if that’s what floats your boat’ I laughed
‘Jolly super’ smiled Venetia, with amazing teeth.
We arrived at Venetia’s Neo-classical facade on leafy Wellington Square. Her pad must have been worth five million. I wonder who gets the interesting job of painting house numbers on all the white columns.
‘Oh look at that fucking hobo in the gardens’ said Venetia with a frown.
‘Disgusting’ I said.
‘Joanna Lamley is supposed to be clearing them away. I shall have to get her to expedite the issue. Dirty pikeys in Wellington Square. Oh how unbefitting.’ She added.
‘Where do you want the big cock?’ I said, maneuvering the stone penis through the front door.
‘Up my leather skirt, darling’ purred Venetia.
‘Hmmm, it may be rather cumbersome at dinner parties’ I said, perspiring a little, in the grand sitting room.
Venetia sat down on a red leather Chesterfield sofa and crossed her long naked legs, twitching a Jimmy Choo shod foot. I looked at her pretty red painted toe nails, in the sunlight that was pouring in through the half drawn curtains in the front windows. Antique bookshelves were arranged with large art books, fashion books, books on architecture and country houses. There was a large book on the two-tiered glass coffee table about Rene Gruau. Above the large white classical fireplace was a mirror, set about with silver candle holders. On the opposite wall there was a large Baroque painting of snooty ladies in hats at Royal Ascot amongst gentlemen in their finery with their willies out by Rowlandson in an ornate gold frame. There were leopard print fur rugs on the polished oak floor. The house smelt of roses, books and leather.
Venetia was directing from her sofa ‘Now Hugo darling, position the stone penis over there by the piano, next to the Etruscan vase. Yah, that’s a good position. Super. Oh you are a darling. Now come over here and get on the floor and kiss my Jimmy Choos.’
I took off my pants and crawled naked across the wooden polished floor and fur rugs towards her long cross-legged figure on the sofa, as she gently swung a leg, sipping a sherry. Her sunglasses were on her head. I loved that Sloaney look. She oozed posh Sloane. I kissed her pretty toes, kissing the black leather strap of her Jimmy Choo. My cock was erect. Her Blackberry sounded and she reached for it, unzipping her Chloe bag.
‘Hello Georgie darling. Yah. I’ve just a bought the most wonderful Egyptian statue. It’s Ra I believe. Ha ha, no it’s not Rah Stockworth. Unless she modeled for it wearing a strap-on! Oh simply adorable, darling. I’m at my new house on Wellington Square. Soooooo lovely. Hugo Posset’s here. He brought the statue here in his van, darling. Well, I had to tow the van, ha ha. It wouldn’t start. What are you doing? Le Caprice. Super darling. Yah. Oh Yahhhh! New York. Oh how fantastic. How fantastic, darling. Tomorrow? Oh isn’t Sebastian a darling. Stay at the Plaza, Georgie, get a suite. Private jet. Absolutely. Fifth Avenue. Yahhh. A Bergdorf blonde if there ever was one. Soooooooo sweet’
As Venetia chatted away to Georgia Barton-Batting, I wanked and kissed her shoes and legs. I was in ecstasy. She was so fucking posh!
‘Yah darling’ she continued on her phone ‘I’m going to plan a party for the High Heels campaign. Oh of course, darling. Jimmy Choos. Soooo bloody sexy. Gosh, must be terribly hot in boots today. Oh yah, Georgia B-B at San Lorenzo in blue suede D Squared knee highs, how awfully ravishing. You are a PR fox. Mmmmmmm.’
I ran my tongue up and down the vertiginous heel of the Jimmy Choo, as Venetia chatted.
‘Yah, Hugo is bashing away, darling. Mmmmmmmm. He’s going to spurt on my polished wood floor by the looks of it. Ha ha ha. Oh, darling are we still on for lunch tomorrow. The Sloane Club. Yah. I’ll call Zara. Oh of course, darling. Lucy’s over in Battersea this evening, so is Olivia. Yah Jemima. Isn’t she? Oh I know. Isn’t it just the most fabulous big leather willy? Lord Baslington. Ha ha. Yah, outside The Botty. Jibby’s gallery. Fantastic party, yah, really bloody fantastic.’
I was fucking Venetia’s leg, my hard penis pressing against her smooth bare leg. I was having a brink of orgasm moment, little pre-come droplets appeared. I kissed her knees. Oh I was fucking horny.
‘Izzy’s place. Gilston Road. I can’t wait for the house warming party, darling. Oh yah, Woodyhead Salliva. Oh, of course, naturally. Oh darling. Darrrrling. Izzy looks too divine with her new vagina! Oh it’s terribly gorgeous. Full leather, darling. Full fucking leather. No no no. Buckskin’
What? Izzy’s got a leather vagina? Surely not. I know the people at Masters and Jones can perform wonders. A leather vagina. How posh can it possibly get? I almost came on Venetia’s Jimmy Choo. I lay down and she gave me a shoe job, rubbing the sole of her shoe in circles on my big excited helmet.
‘Oh darling’ she brayed ‘Hugo is excited by the fact that Izzy has a new leather vagina. Ha ha ha. I just know. Darling, you must. Oh yah. Yah Yahhh. Yahhh. Darling, of course. Mmmmmmmmmm’ I came, hearing her ridiculously posh voice. There were globules everywhere; she trod the spunk into my navel. I was hard again in a few seconds. I had taken Hardlong earlier. Venetia chatted more. She carried on with the shoejob, with spunk stains on the bottom of her shoe.
‘Oh you know I would rather have Hugo spunking on my Jimmy Choos than some dirty gypo, like that disgusting wanking hobo at Jibby’s exhibition. I mean, really. Gosh, I know. How was it for you? What was it like copulating with a pikey, darling? Ha ha ha. Georgia Barton-Batting, you dirty slut. Fumigation is no consolation, darling. Positively riddled with fleas I bet. Oh yah I did see the pug fucking a Hermes Birkin. Hilarious, darling. Sooooooooo hilair! Yah a pug fucking a ten thousand pound Birkin. Dirty beast. Disgusting animal. Ha ha ha. Pugnacity!’
I was up and fucking Venetia as she continued her fit of giggles about the bag-fucking pug; her legs clamped around my back as I pumped on the verge of climax. She tried to carry on the conversation and giggles but dropped the phone moaning in pleasure. Georgia’s voice was still faintly talking until she realized Venetia was in the throes of sexual abandon, as I shafted her and snogged her against the Chesterfield leather and the Mulberry leather cushions. She still had her leather skirt and Lanvin leather gloves on. Her Marc Jacobs cape jacket was on the floor. I sucked sherry off her nipples.
‘More sherry, darling’ she purred
‘Oh yes, more sherry’ I panted.
‘Oh yahh, fantastic. More fucking sherry’ she said in her poshest accent. We were playing the ‘who can talk the poshest game’ as we fucked.
‘More sherry darling’ I said ‘More sherry’
‘Oh yahh. Mmmmmmmmmm. Terribly terribly lovely sherry, Hugo darling! Mmmmmmm. Oh I knew I would be fucking you one day, ever since I met you that afternoon at The Ranger in Parsons Green.’ She was winning.
‘I love Parsons Green’ I said abruptly, fucking faster and faster.
‘Just sooooooo fucking wonderful, darling. Sooo jolly super. I love it too.’ She almost shouted. I shot my load, pulling out and spraying in her mouth. ‘Oh Hugo, darling, lovely lovely spunk’ She scraped a Jimmy Choo heel on the wood floor as she licked my ejaculating cock and I played with her vagina with a Jimmy Choo heel I had unbuckled and removed.
‘Oh I love heels’ she moaned. ‘I love my Jimmy Choos’
‘This is for the campaign’ I smiled. She giggled. I was hard again.
‘Come in my face Hugo. Come in my face at Wellington Square. Come in my face at fucking Wellington Square.’ She boasted.
She grabbed my cock with a leather gloved hand and wanked my cock and I climaxed furiously again, in her face. In her posh face at Wellington Square with the sun coming in through the windows and her Mercedes convertible CLK parked up outside. The hobo was still there, under a plane tree, looking like he was jerking himself off without a care in the world. She was still wearing those big sunglasses on her head. I could see my cock spurting in the reflection of the lenses with sparkly chandeliers forming haloes behind me.
‘Oh I must get those chandeliers cleaned’ she said, with spunk all over her gorgeous face.
A plasma screen flickered into life in Venetia’s sitting room and Emily Shapeley-Legge was interviewing Joanna Lamley about the High Heels law. Emily was sitting cross-legged wearing a short green tartan dress and very very high Christian Louboutin court shoes in dark red. Joanna Lamley was dressed in a black Chanel suit and black platform strappy sandals by Lanvin. Her Chanel quilted two-fifty-five chain bag was on the table.
Emily posed a question ‘So, Joanna, we were both at Stowe together and back then wearing high heels was a prerequisite to our couture shows. Now you say it’s time that wearing high heels should be compulsory if you are an upper middle or upper class woman. I wear ridiculously high Christian Louboutins all the time and I’m not averse to the law, but there may be some who might find it a tad frivolous. There are some terribly chic ballet shoes and gladiator sandals about. What about those? I occasionally wear ballet shoes.’
Joanna replied ‘Ballet shoes are OK and have their place, so do gladiator flats, but for the majority of the working day high heels will be made compulsory for the well-heeled so to speak. We have some absolutely amazing designers coming out of Cordwainers and other prestigious colleges. I hope the new law will sort out the wheat from the chaff. A high heel really does mean business both at work and at play! I wear Christian Louboutins and Jimmy Choos and today I’m sporting very sexy heels by Lanvin, so I’m already setting a jolly good example’.
‘Yah, she wears exquisite shoes’ agreed Venetia, sipping a glass of champagne.
‘Best prime minister we’ve ever had’ I said, naked on the red leather sofa.
‘You also say’ Emily went on ‘If a woman is of the wrong class and she is caught wearing high heels, then her shoes may be confiscated and a spot fine may be issued.’
‘Yah, absolutely’ smiled Joanna ‘we can’t have bloody oiks walking around in stilettos, no no no, it’s unsightly. We want to encourage women of the lower classes to wear trainers. Of course, social climbers from the middle classes will be able to secure a permit, but it will be far too expensive for the lower strata.’
Emily laughed and dangled a Louboutin ‘Gosh, it sounds awfully elitist, not letting chavvy women into Jimmy Choo or Sergio Rossi’
‘It’s going to happen and there’s not a thing anyone can do. We’ve had a long discussion about it in Le Caprice and we’re not relenting. The streets of Chelsea will tap-tap to the beautiful sound of stilettos all day long. Of course, there will be exceptions. As I mentioned, ballet flats will still be OK, but trainers are out.’
‘So if a woman decides to go out jogging, she’s got to do it in her Louboutins?’ Emily frowned.
‘Oh yah, it’s very good for the balls of the feet running in high heels. Samantha and Carrie from SATC do it all the time’ smiled Joanna.
‘I see’ added Emily.
‘What do you think of Emily on the news?’ asked Venetia, digging around in her Chloe bag for a packet of Marlboros.
‘Foxy and feisty. She reminds me of Jemima Barnes. I would love to meet that Emily at a sex party’ I said, getting hard again. Hardlong pills last hours.
‘Oh I doubt you would see her at one of those’ said Venetia, sparking up a cigarette ‘She’s too busy for that sort of thing’
‘Then I’ll just have to dedicate a good wank to her here and now’ I said, stroking my cock.
‘Yah, that’s cool, darling I’ll watch’ said Venetia, crossing her legs. ‘I don’t have to be at Claridges until late afternoon. I’m meeting Barwick Ford and Charlotte Foggins for a drink’
The next day was a fantastic sunny day as usual, the palm trees on the Brompton Road swayed in a gentle breeze. I opened the gallery about eleven o’clock and accepted a delivery of large brass sculptures of Aphrodite by Kimble Dine, a good friend of Sarah Cavendish-Peel. Sarah was at an auction at Sotheby’s for most of the day, there were some old Dutch landscapes by Jacob Van Ruisdael she was after amongst other things. She was quite tired from several days partying, but had plenty of coke to get her through the day. She had the hots for Eckings, so that would help too.
A Mercedes convertible parked up outside the gallery and Venetia Leerbourn-Zeal emerged as cheerful as ever. She was a wonderful silhouette; the undisputed owner of the prettiest legs in London. Blonde hair tied up, huge Balenciaga sunglasses, a Marc Jacobs blue and black outlined zip front spruce cape jacket and blue leather mini skirt, black leather gloves by Lanvin and Jimmy Choo black leather Seattle platform sandals. She carried a large blue leather Chloe bag with a silver zip around the bottom circumference.
‘Hello Hugo darling’ she said joyfully, pivoting on a Jimmy Choo heel, admiring the new Aphrodite statues. She paced around the gallery with an elegant hand held in a loose fist close to her chin and the Chloe bag swinging in the crook of the same arm, click-clicking in her Jimmy Choos. Those Jimmy Choos. A bulge was developing in my Dior underpants and Venetia acknowledged it, as she pushed her sunglasses on to her head, raising a plucked eyebrow.
‘How was the orgy at Carinthia’s, darling’ she asked, running a leather gloved hand along the stone erect penis, similar to the one in the film Clockwork Orange.
‘It was fun, plenty of caviar and sex’ I said.
‘Oh yah, caviar is certainly a prerequisite’ she purred in a very posh accent. ‘I have copious amounts of beluga caviar back at my place, darling. Mmmmmm. I was wondering if you could deliver this beautiful stone penis to my new house on Wellington Square. Such a lovely big cock will harmonize just beautifully with my amorous Rowlandsons. It’s almost as substantial as yours, Hugo’
‘Those shoes are ridiculously high’ I said, my cock twitching as I perused them.
‘Jimmy Choo daaaarling’ smiled Venetia ‘I bought them a few days ago in Harvey Nicks, aren’t they just sooo terribly sexy. I was so close to getting the Alaia sandals with cowries on, too. Maybe tomorrow. Izzy Buckworth-Chard bought some incredible Alaia python wedges.’
‘Hot heels all around’ I said. ‘Of course, I can take the cock back to your place, I’ll get it in the van with the crane and I’ll follow you over’
‘Excellent, well, let’s make a move then, I’m parked in front of your old van’ said Venetia, caressing my bulge with a Lanvin gloved hand. ‘Why don’t you invest in a lovely modern Mercedes van?’
‘The van has sentimental value, it was abandoned on the Fulham Road a while ago, it is stained with fond memories and it does the job, when it starts’ I said. I managed to manipulate the hefty member into the back of the Transit as Venetia sat elegantly waiting in her blue leather upholstered convertible, drenched in sunshine.
I turned the ignition key and the engine turned over but wouldn’t start. The van hadn’t been started for weeks. I wound the window down ‘Sorry Venetia, it may take a while to get the van started’. I tried several times but it wouldn’t go.
Venetia got out of her car and stood on the pavement, arms folded. Sunglasses glinting. Pivoting on a Jimmy Choo heel.
The van engine cranked over and over, but wouldn’t fire. Venetia got back in her car and smoked a Marlboro light. I kept trying to start the van. ‘Come on, old van, Venetia wants her cock from Cairo!’
‘Bloody old clapper’ laughed Venetia, perched elegantly ensconced in the leather seating of her convertible. She put a Jimmy Choo shod foot up on the dashboard. Now she was teasing. Those Jimmy Choos looked like an advert in a glossy magazine, placed on the sumptuous leather instrument panel of her Mercedes CLK. A Guy Bourdin moment.
The van cranked over slowly and erratically as the battery got low. ‘Looks like it needs a new battery’ I said through the open window ‘Do you have jump leads?’
‘No, darling’ said Venetia. ‘I have a dog lead, that’s all’
‘That won’t help’ I said
‘Oh I can tow you’ she said ‘Have you got a tow rope?’
‘Yes’ I said ‘plenty of rope, I’ll get it hitched up’
‘This is all rather novel, darling’ smiled Venetia, getting out of her car and following me into the gallery to get the rope. ‘You can tie me up with that later’
‘Ha ha. I could bring some chains too, if that’s what floats your boat’ I laughed
‘Jolly super’ smiled Venetia, with amazing teeth.
We arrived at Venetia’s Neo-classical facade on leafy Wellington Square. Her pad must have been worth five million. I wonder who gets the interesting job of painting house numbers on all the white columns.
‘Oh look at that fucking hobo in the gardens’ said Venetia with a frown.
‘Disgusting’ I said.
‘Joanna Lamley is supposed to be clearing them away. I shall have to get her to expedite the issue. Dirty pikeys in Wellington Square. Oh how unbefitting.’ She added.
‘Where do you want the big cock?’ I said, maneuvering the stone penis through the front door.
‘Up my leather skirt, darling’ purred Venetia.
‘Hmmm, it may be rather cumbersome at dinner parties’ I said, perspiring a little, in the grand sitting room.
Venetia sat down on a red leather Chesterfield sofa and crossed her long naked legs, twitching a Jimmy Choo shod foot. I looked at her pretty red painted toe nails, in the sunlight that was pouring in through the half drawn curtains in the front windows. Antique bookshelves were arranged with large art books, fashion books, books on architecture and country houses. There was a large book on the two-tiered glass coffee table about Rene Gruau. Above the large white classical fireplace was a mirror, set about with silver candle holders. On the opposite wall there was a large Baroque painting of snooty ladies in hats at Royal Ascot amongst gentlemen in their finery with their willies out by Rowlandson in an ornate gold frame. There were leopard print fur rugs on the polished oak floor. The house smelt of roses, books and leather.
Venetia was directing from her sofa ‘Now Hugo darling, position the stone penis over there by the piano, next to the Etruscan vase. Yah, that’s a good position. Super. Oh you are a darling. Now come over here and get on the floor and kiss my Jimmy Choos.’
I took off my pants and crawled naked across the wooden polished floor and fur rugs towards her long cross-legged figure on the sofa, as she gently swung a leg, sipping a sherry. Her sunglasses were on her head. I loved that Sloaney look. She oozed posh Sloane. I kissed her pretty toes, kissing the black leather strap of her Jimmy Choo. My cock was erect. Her Blackberry sounded and she reached for it, unzipping her Chloe bag.
‘Hello Georgie darling. Yah. I’ve just a bought the most wonderful Egyptian statue. It’s Ra I believe. Ha ha, no it’s not Rah Stockworth. Unless she modeled for it wearing a strap-on! Oh simply adorable, darling. I’m at my new house on Wellington Square. Soooooo lovely. Hugo Posset’s here. He brought the statue here in his van, darling. Well, I had to tow the van, ha ha. It wouldn’t start. What are you doing? Le Caprice. Super darling. Yah. Oh Yahhhh! New York. Oh how fantastic. How fantastic, darling. Tomorrow? Oh isn’t Sebastian a darling. Stay at the Plaza, Georgie, get a suite. Private jet. Absolutely. Fifth Avenue. Yahhh. A Bergdorf blonde if there ever was one. Soooooooo sweet’
As Venetia chatted away to Georgia Barton-Batting, I wanked and kissed her shoes and legs. I was in ecstasy. She was so fucking posh!
‘Yah darling’ she continued on her phone ‘I’m going to plan a party for the High Heels campaign. Oh of course, darling. Jimmy Choos. Soooo bloody sexy. Gosh, must be terribly hot in boots today. Oh yah, Georgia B-B at San Lorenzo in blue suede D Squared knee highs, how awfully ravishing. You are a PR fox. Mmmmmmm.’
I ran my tongue up and down the vertiginous heel of the Jimmy Choo, as Venetia chatted.
‘Yah, Hugo is bashing away, darling. Mmmmmmmm. He’s going to spurt on my polished wood floor by the looks of it. Ha ha ha. Oh, darling are we still on for lunch tomorrow. The Sloane Club. Yah. I’ll call Zara. Oh of course, darling. Lucy’s over in Battersea this evening, so is Olivia. Yah Jemima. Isn’t she? Oh I know. Isn’t it just the most fabulous big leather willy? Lord Baslington. Ha ha. Yah, outside The Botty. Jibby’s gallery. Fantastic party, yah, really bloody fantastic.’
I was fucking Venetia’s leg, my hard penis pressing against her smooth bare leg. I was having a brink of orgasm moment, little pre-come droplets appeared. I kissed her knees. Oh I was fucking horny.
‘Izzy’s place. Gilston Road. I can’t wait for the house warming party, darling. Oh yah, Woodyhead Salliva. Oh, of course, naturally. Oh darling. Darrrrling. Izzy looks too divine with her new vagina! Oh it’s terribly gorgeous. Full leather, darling. Full fucking leather. No no no. Buckskin’
What? Izzy’s got a leather vagina? Surely not. I know the people at Masters and Jones can perform wonders. A leather vagina. How posh can it possibly get? I almost came on Venetia’s Jimmy Choo. I lay down and she gave me a shoe job, rubbing the sole of her shoe in circles on my big excited helmet.
‘Oh darling’ she brayed ‘Hugo is excited by the fact that Izzy has a new leather vagina. Ha ha ha. I just know. Darling, you must. Oh yah. Yah Yahhh. Yahhh. Darling, of course. Mmmmmmmmmm’ I came, hearing her ridiculously posh voice. There were globules everywhere; she trod the spunk into my navel. I was hard again in a few seconds. I had taken Hardlong earlier. Venetia chatted more. She carried on with the shoejob, with spunk stains on the bottom of her shoe.
‘Oh you know I would rather have Hugo spunking on my Jimmy Choos than some dirty gypo, like that disgusting wanking hobo at Jibby’s exhibition. I mean, really. Gosh, I know. How was it for you? What was it like copulating with a pikey, darling? Ha ha ha. Georgia Barton-Batting, you dirty slut. Fumigation is no consolation, darling. Positively riddled with fleas I bet. Oh yah I did see the pug fucking a Hermes Birkin. Hilarious, darling. Sooooooooo hilair! Yah a pug fucking a ten thousand pound Birkin. Dirty beast. Disgusting animal. Ha ha ha. Pugnacity!’
I was up and fucking Venetia as she continued her fit of giggles about the bag-fucking pug; her legs clamped around my back as I pumped on the verge of climax. She tried to carry on the conversation and giggles but dropped the phone moaning in pleasure. Georgia’s voice was still faintly talking until she realized Venetia was in the throes of sexual abandon, as I shafted her and snogged her against the Chesterfield leather and the Mulberry leather cushions. She still had her leather skirt and Lanvin leather gloves on. Her Marc Jacobs cape jacket was on the floor. I sucked sherry off her nipples.
‘More sherry, darling’ she purred
‘Oh yes, more sherry’ I panted.
‘Oh yahh, fantastic. More fucking sherry’ she said in her poshest accent. We were playing the ‘who can talk the poshest game’ as we fucked.
‘More sherry darling’ I said ‘More sherry’
‘Oh yahh. Mmmmmmmmmm. Terribly terribly lovely sherry, Hugo darling! Mmmmmmm. Oh I knew I would be fucking you one day, ever since I met you that afternoon at The Ranger in Parsons Green.’ She was winning.
‘I love Parsons Green’ I said abruptly, fucking faster and faster.
‘Just sooooooo fucking wonderful, darling. Sooo jolly super. I love it too.’ She almost shouted. I shot my load, pulling out and spraying in her mouth. ‘Oh Hugo, darling, lovely lovely spunk’ She scraped a Jimmy Choo heel on the wood floor as she licked my ejaculating cock and I played with her vagina with a Jimmy Choo heel I had unbuckled and removed.
‘Oh I love heels’ she moaned. ‘I love my Jimmy Choos’
‘This is for the campaign’ I smiled. She giggled. I was hard again.
‘Come in my face Hugo. Come in my face at Wellington Square. Come in my face at fucking Wellington Square.’ She boasted.
She grabbed my cock with a leather gloved hand and wanked my cock and I climaxed furiously again, in her face. In her posh face at Wellington Square with the sun coming in through the windows and her Mercedes convertible CLK parked up outside. The hobo was still there, under a plane tree, looking like he was jerking himself off without a care in the world. She was still wearing those big sunglasses on her head. I could see my cock spurting in the reflection of the lenses with sparkly chandeliers forming haloes behind me.
‘Oh I must get those chandeliers cleaned’ she said, with spunk all over her gorgeous face.
A plasma screen flickered into life in Venetia’s sitting room and Emily Shapeley-Legge was interviewing Joanna Lamley about the High Heels law. Emily was sitting cross-legged wearing a short green tartan dress and very very high Christian Louboutin court shoes in dark red. Joanna Lamley was dressed in a black Chanel suit and black platform strappy sandals by Lanvin. Her Chanel quilted two-fifty-five chain bag was on the table.
Emily posed a question ‘So, Joanna, we were both at Stowe together and back then wearing high heels was a prerequisite to our couture shows. Now you say it’s time that wearing high heels should be compulsory if you are an upper middle or upper class woman. I wear ridiculously high Christian Louboutins all the time and I’m not averse to the law, but there may be some who might find it a tad frivolous. There are some terribly chic ballet shoes and gladiator sandals about. What about those? I occasionally wear ballet shoes.’
Joanna replied ‘Ballet shoes are OK and have their place, so do gladiator flats, but for the majority of the working day high heels will be made compulsory for the well-heeled so to speak. We have some absolutely amazing designers coming out of Cordwainers and other prestigious colleges. I hope the new law will sort out the wheat from the chaff. A high heel really does mean business both at work and at play! I wear Christian Louboutins and Jimmy Choos and today I’m sporting very sexy heels by Lanvin, so I’m already setting a jolly good example’.
‘Yah, she wears exquisite shoes’ agreed Venetia, sipping a glass of champagne.
‘Best prime minister we’ve ever had’ I said, naked on the red leather sofa.
‘You also say’ Emily went on ‘If a woman is of the wrong class and she is caught wearing high heels, then her shoes may be confiscated and a spot fine may be issued.’
‘Yah, absolutely’ smiled Joanna ‘we can’t have bloody oiks walking around in stilettos, no no no, it’s unsightly. We want to encourage women of the lower classes to wear trainers. Of course, social climbers from the middle classes will be able to secure a permit, but it will be far too expensive for the lower strata.’
Emily laughed and dangled a Louboutin ‘Gosh, it sounds awfully elitist, not letting chavvy women into Jimmy Choo or Sergio Rossi’
‘It’s going to happen and there’s not a thing anyone can do. We’ve had a long discussion about it in Le Caprice and we’re not relenting. The streets of Chelsea will tap-tap to the beautiful sound of stilettos all day long. Of course, there will be exceptions. As I mentioned, ballet flats will still be OK, but trainers are out.’
‘So if a woman decides to go out jogging, she’s got to do it in her Louboutins?’ Emily frowned.
‘Oh yah, it’s very good for the balls of the feet running in high heels. Samantha and Carrie from SATC do it all the time’ smiled Joanna.
‘I see’ added Emily.
‘What do you think of Emily on the news?’ asked Venetia, digging around in her Chloe bag for a packet of Marlboros.
‘Foxy and feisty. She reminds me of Jemima Barnes. I would love to meet that Emily at a sex party’ I said, getting hard again. Hardlong pills last hours.
‘Oh I doubt you would see her at one of those’ said Venetia, sparking up a cigarette ‘She’s too busy for that sort of thing’
‘Then I’ll just have to dedicate a good wank to her here and now’ I said, stroking my cock.
‘Yah, that’s cool, darling I’ll watch’ said Venetia, crossing her legs. ‘I don’t have to be at Claridges until late afternoon. I’m meeting Barwick Ford and Charlotte Foggins for a drink’
The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again - Part 18
CARINTHIA CAVENDISH-PEEL
The golden car and connected leather penis pulled up outside The Botty, which was heaving as usual. I saw Sarah Cavendish-Peel sitting cross-legged chatting to Barwick Ford and Max Ponds. Sarah was stunning in her new outfit. Black leather mini dress by Gucci with a zip down the front and back with logo zip pulls and large see through gold Gucci logos over each nipple, over her crotch (she was commando), and on each bum cheek. A white leopard print Ballantyne scarf adorned her neck. Black leather Gucci gloves with logo zip pulls. Black leather Christian Louboutin covered platform knee high boots with back zips. Large black leather Chloe Betty zips bag. Dior oversized sunglasses on the head. Lots of silver and black leather bangles. I was dying to stick my tongue in those Gucci logos. Barwick and Max both had visible bulges in their Dior briefs. It seemed as though my penchant for wearing just underwear was catching on, a lot of men were walking about in the hot streets of West London with skimpy thongs on.
‘Hugo darrrrling’ purred Sarah, swinging a booted leg, fiddling with a zip on her Chloe bag and holding a latex toy vagina that she had bought Barwick for his birthday, since he had split with Henrietta for a while. Her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as she asked a few people to stick their fingers in the sex toy, smiling her big posh smile. Sarah Cavendish-Peel, the horniest Sloane in the city in one of the sexiest outfits I’d seen her in this summer. I knew we were going to have a huge amount of sex today. Sure enough, she slid a leather gloved hand down my pants and started jerking my erect penis at the table.
‘Jolly super’ said Sarah ‘Getting lost in Surrey has made you horny’
‘Yeah, that and you’re fucking sex boots!’ I grinned.
‘He’s got his eye on those boots’ said Max, eyeing up Skinny and Buxham who were chatting by the penis. A crowd had gathered around the artifact. One man was standing behind it, pretending it was his cock. What a cock he was.
Sarah rubbed my cock harder ‘Darling, it must have been rather a shock, realizing you were lost in the wilderness. Gosh it must have been like sooo inconvenient’. Damn she was good at hand jobs. I could see her erect nipples under those gold Gucci logos. She’s always flashing off her erogenous zones. I started to finger her through the Gucci logo on her crotch, she moaned and purred.
‘Mmmmmmmmm I soooo adore a bit of Hugo finger through the Gucci logo mmmmmm mmmmmm yahhhh mmmmmmm oh gosh mmmmmm’ she moaned.
‘Ere Hugo, fancy a bit of mango juice’ Max teased.
‘I’d rather have some breast milk mate’ I said, tonguing Sarah’s nipple through the Gucci logo. ‘This is a sensational little number, Sarah’ I said.
‘Mostly Gucci, darling. The boots are Christian Louboutin. Fucking exorbitant but super gorgeous gorgeous leather. I feel terribly horny wearing Christian Lous’ She moved a heel towards my drooling lips. I kissed the soft leather. I ran my lips up along the back zip to her knee pit. Fingering her clit, through the double G logo.
I grabbed her by the gloved hand ‘Come on Sarah, let’s have a quick one over your parent’s gaff’
‘Fucking only been here a minute’ said Max ‘and he’s off again’
Barwick chirped up ‘we’ll be here all night, Hugo, you’d better join us for a beer at some point, instead of fucking all the posh totty left right and centre’
‘Fordy, I’ll try and give it up sometime’ I said
‘And the three fucking bears’ laughed Max, looking at Sarah’s cunt through the G logo.
‘Come on bear’ purred Sarah ‘to Cadogan for naughties we must go!’
‘Hey’ said Barwick ‘Leave the latex cunt, I might need that tonight’
Sarah put the latex vagina back on the table and Max started tonguing it, much to the amusement of some raucous city women who were swinging their Longchamp bags and laughing and snorting. Max went right up to them and made fart noises in it and they were almost falling over in their high heels. He was Sloane Square’s answer to the Pied Piper. He was strutting around the pub, with several pissed women following him, slapping his bum as he tried to blow tunes on the latex vagina. Zanna Buxham and Skinny were in the line, drinking white wine Spritzers, and pinching random men’s bums.
‘The ginger guy really knows how to play a flange’ said Skinny
‘Yah, he’s a total fucking virtuoso’ laughed a woman who looked like Nigella Lawson in red leather Walter Steiger knee high boots.
‘Go on Max, play that funky vagina’ cheered Barwick from his seat, necking a Long Island ice tea.
‘Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to fuck we go’ he sang with about twenty women following him back into the pub and Jeremy Duke at the end. Jeremy Duke!
‘Duke, you old fucker. Finally found your niche have you old boy’ boomed Barwick.
‘Fuck off Duke’ said Max ‘Go and wank over some old umbrellas!’
‘Jolly good idea’ said Jeremy, having drunk way too much beer.
‘I have a beautiful Liberty brolly, darling’ said Charlotte Foggins, who had joined Barwick at the table ‘you’d simply love it Dukers, it’s got a crocodile handle and opens with a very satisfying snap. I know you would like to open it in a downpour and wank yourself off underneath it’.
‘Pitter patter raindrops’ added Barwick.
‘It is rather a lovely one’ said Charlotte, getting Barwick’s attention more and more.
Charlotte crossed her legs. She was wearing a green Chanel croc leather mini skirt suit, flowery-patterned Wolford stockings, a Dolce & Gabbana leather Lily bag in various colours with about eight zips and Balenciaga zip front gladiator shoes in black leather. Her Ferragamo silk scarf had pictures of horses with big cocks on it.
‘I’m bloody horny’ said Barwick
‘OK, my Porsche Cayenne is parked up around the corner, let’s go dogging, darling’ purred Charlotte, swinging a Wolford leg, rubbing Barwick’s crotch with the sole of her Balenciaga shoe.
‘Right, let’s go you hotty’ enthused Barwick, with a bulge like the Matterhorn.
‘It’s brand new, darling, with bespoke Chanel leather interior’ boasted Charlotte as she tap-tapped along the pavement in her high heels.
‘Jolly good show’ said Barwick, almost coming on the way to the car.
I followed Sarah Cavendish-Peel up the mosaic steps of her parents’ Cadogan Square apartment. I watched her shapely hips moving under the soft leather dress and the back of her well-toned legs and the zips fluttering on the back of the Christian Louboutin boots. I was fluttering inside, in anticipation of getting down to business.
‘You know, darling, I think they may have a lead regarding the Nicolas Poussin’ she said
Oh no, no that. She loved that painting.
‘Cool’ I said ‘That reminds me, I need to run off some prints of Two Dildos at Royal Ascot. You said it was proving to be very popular at Jibby’s’
‘How on earth do you know I said that?’ asked Sarah ‘You were in Surrey bonking Camilla SD and Rah Rah’
‘Oh Lord Baslington mentioned it’ I said.
‘Ah, Lord Bionic Willy’ she smiled.
‘Yeah, he’s got a cock like a fucking Ferrari, and he needs it, with that sexy Honor Blackmore driving him around with her dirty husky posh accent. She’s a simulacrum, you know. A fucking Stepford Sloane.’ I entered the sitting room and sat down in a very elegant modern red leather chair with white stitching and a chrome frame from Lambert and Lambert on the Pimlico Road. I looked up at the glinting chandeliers and across at the polished grand piano, on top of which was a large white vase of red roses. Sarah mixed some drinks at the bar. She lit up a Sobranie.
‘A cock like a Ferrari’ she giggled. ‘I can imagine him, tearing down the Brompton Road, ejaculating everywhere’
‘Yeah, coming all over the denizens of Kensington’ I added. Sarah posed on a red leather and gold thirties chaise-longue, like a decadent woman from the same era, chiaroscuro lighting on her leather clad figure, with little glints emanating from her zips and logos. James Tissot would have picked out the details. She smoked a Sobranie in a cigarette holder, wearing those Gucci black leather gloves. Fuck, I was hard.
‘Yah, spunk everywhere, darling. Lord Bazzer shooting his load all over smart ladies in tweed suits and Launer bags.’ Sarah crossed her booted legs. I could see her nipples poking through those Gucci logos, as she breathed. She sipped on a cocktail glass. Sexy rez music was playing on a moderate level. Rez music stimulated my penis.
‘He can’t stop his cock ejaculating’ I continued ‘He runs around and around the fucking Boltons, coming in peoples garden plant pots’
Sarah, swung a booted leg, to the rhythm of the vibrant music, which was vibrating her clitoris ‘Yah, Lord Bazzer soooo can’t stop climaxing all over their classical sculptures and fragrant rhododendrons and sumptuous lawns. He completely enshrouds Zanna Buxham in spunk. She’s positively doing the butterfly stroke in his semen, completely naked, all but those Zuhair Murad shoes she very often wears. Globules flying off the heels, darling. Fucking big globules of spunk’
I started wanking my hard cock, looking at Sarah’s beautiful face in the contrasting light, her big mascara eyes glinting in excitement. I continued the story ‘He sticks his massive shaft up Buxham’s arse right there on her front lawn at The Boltons, making her shout in pleasure. Her long red finger nails grabbing at fallen blossom. He’s relentlessly pumping; that engorged Ferrari engine negotiating chicanes and whoops. The two lovers are at Monaco. Lady Trammerton is commentating’
Sarah again ‘Lady Trammerton is saying there are many more laps to go, the weather is hot and Lord Bazzer is in tip top shape. One orgasm after another. Buxham is thrashing around like a wild beast in the afternoon sun’ I was standing up, looking down at Sarah who started to rub her Louboutin heel on my cock. She had several excellent techniques. She smoked the Sobranie. Twirls of smoke rose to the ornate ceiling, weaving around the chandeliers.
Carinthia Cavendish-Peel tottered into the sitting room, Sarah’s mum. Sarah’s fucking mum.
‘Brilliant story’ she said ‘The two of you should be on radio four, ha ha’
‘Mummy! What are you doing home? I thought you were on the hunt today?’ Sarah regained her composure on the chaise-longue, crossing her legs. I still had my cock out, standing high like a prize marrow.
‘No the hunt’s orf today, darling, so I’m going to chill out. Terribly beautiful cock by the way Hugo’ Carinthia sat down in her Daks tan check skirt suit, diamond patterned Wolfords and Salvatore Ferragamo pointy stilettos in black leather with gold logos on the heel. She placed her Chanel chain bag on the coffee table.
‘So where were we’ she continued ‘Lord Baslington was doing Zanna Buxham up the shitter while she was crawling about in peach blossom’
‘Mummy, we didn’t mention peach blossom’ said Sarah, sipping her cocktail.
‘There are peach trees everywhere at The Boltons, darling. It fits’ Carinthia dangled a pointy stiletto. She was very sexy for a woman in her fifties. She resembled Honor Blackmore. I began to wonder if she was a simulacrum. She wasn’t. She had one of those old money Sloane posh accents, slightly husky, and she spoke very softly.
‘Up the shitter’ I said, looking at Carinthia’s knee, with diamond pattern Wolford stockings. I perused the detail.
‘Yah, up the fucking shitter’ said Carinthia. ‘So Hugo, are you ready to participate in a bit of filthy mother and daughter action? Before I go shopping in Peter Jones for a new Mulberry bag’
‘Mummy, don’t you get enough cock from some of the old randy huntsmen?’ said Sarah, pushing her Gucci logo framed vagina in my face. I noticed several sporting paintings on the walls. Easy to sell, sporting prints, you can’t go wrong in West London.
‘Well, obviously’ said Carinthia ‘old Bertie Shrimley has a cock the size of a musket and goes like a tiger, since he had his Masters and Jones enhancement. They really are terribly clever at Masters and Jones. I’m thinking of having some work done’
‘Mummy, it’s money soooo well spent’ said Sarah, as I wanked, sitting on her knee.
‘Oh Hugo darling, come and sit on my knee’ said Carinthia, crossing her legs. I obliged, I sat on Carinthia’s posh knee. I continued wanking; listening to both of their ridiculously posh accents.
‘Of course’ said Carinthia ‘I have all this money coming in from trust funds and all sorts, I can’t spend it all on shoes and bags’
‘A new fanny from Masters and Jones would be an asset’ I said, wanking faster.
‘Absolutely, darling. Those clever scientists are always inventing new models. I hear the Stimulabia Forty-Two is very popular. They say it’s the Jaguar of vaginas’ said Carinthia; now rubbing my cock with her elegant hand, with painted red nails and a diamond ring around her finger that vibrated. I looked at Sarah, who was sitting cross-legged on the seat by the grand piano, tinkling intermittent notes, as the rez music stimulated us all, both physically and psychologically. We also took some Ultrasex pills and snorted a few lines of coke. I snorted a line off Carinthia’s knee, while I wanked and almost came on her shoes. I licked some powder off the pointy toe of her Salvatore Ferragamo shoe.
‘Hugo, darling’ said Sarah ‘let’s fuck on the piano. In front of mummy. Mummy, watch us fuck on the grand piano.’
‘Jolly super’ purred Carinthia, taking a large gold vibrator from her Chanel chain bag and switching it on. ‘I’ll watch you fuck on the grand piano and you can listen to me moaning in unbridled pleasure as I vibrate my clit into oblivion’.
I fucked Sarah like a mad goat, with her boots wrapped around my back. Her hair was connecting with the succulently large rose petals. I had a good view of our profile in a large gilt-framed mirror from Nick Baslem on the Pimlico Road. I could see Carinthia on the red leather chaise-longue, with her leg cocked up as she stimulated herself with the vibrator. She was still dressed very smartly, aside from a few snags in her Wolford stockings.
‘Oh yahhhh mmmmmm oh you naughty rabbits going at it’ she enthused.
Sarah moaned plenty ‘mmmmmm Hugo darling mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm you big dragon cock mmmm mmmmm’
‘I love your Louboutins’ I pumped away, feeling the leather, sucking on a nipple through the Gucci logo dress, feeling a stiletto heel as she moaned and giggled. I saw our reflection in the polished wood of the grand piano, rose petals were dropping off. Her blonde hair tumbling like soft feathers. I came to orgasm as Sarah went ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm’. I continued, still as hard as rock, licking her expensive boots and wanking fast, licking zips and knee pits. I was up her again, pumping like Charleston pumps Birkins; I was soon coming to another amazing climax.
Sarah’s Blackberry rang in her Chloe bag. She fumbled to get it as I stroked Carinthia’s clit with the gold vibrator. Mother and daughter looked so fucking posh, yet so bloody filthy. I wanked over Carinthia’s Chanel bag. Carinthia licked the pre-come off the soft quilted leather.
‘Hello darling’ said Sarah into her Blackberry ‘Oh Charlotte, are you having fun? Naughty fucking Barwick. Yah he’s a perve sometimes. Yah, we’re soooo having kinky sex. Mummy’s here too. Yahh! We just had the best fucking shag on the piano, darling. Sooooo amazing. I thought I was going to heaven. Oh Charlotte, you should come over. Yah, dogging in Porsche Cayennes is soooo fucking good, yah. Tell Barwick to spunk all over the leather seats and lick it all off! No, we haven’t heard much about the painting. Oh ciao darling’
She dropped the Blackberry back in her bag ‘That was Charlotte Foggins, having a fucking rousing time with Barwick so I hear. He’s forgot about Henrietta BC already. They might pop over for drinks and more sex later’
‘More sex’ I panted, spunking in Carinthia’s Sloaney mouth, her long tongue flicking at my helmet. No wonder she’s popular bonking with the Berkeley. I looked at the faces of the huntsmen in the paintings and noticed they had aroused expressions. Hunting must be fun. These days they hunt a robot fox.
‘Oh there goes my Blackberry’ said Carinthia, opening her Chanel bag, crossing her legs. ‘Hello. Yah, it’s Carinthia. Yah. Oh hello darling, how are you? I was just thinking, I haven’t heard from Henny Girton in ages. Oh yah, you must. Really. Oh yah, pop in darling. I’m with my daughter and her friend, Hugo. Hugo Posset who runs the Royal Gallery. Hen, darling, behave! Naughty Hen. Ha ha. I have to say the old rhyme, darling. At a party in Chelsea I saw Henrietta Girton playing with willies with a leather skirt on! Ha ha. Yah, he’s here with some awfully good tales about Lord Baslington. Yah, he’s the one with the new cock. It was a terribly nasty encounter with a shark. Oh yahh, so super darling. Yah, so good you’re in the area. Yah. Oh see you in a jiffy’
‘Henny Girton’s popping over, a friend I haven’t seen in years. She’s with her daughter, Kinvara, shopping at Peter Jones.’ Carinthia checked her make up and wiped some spunk off her shoes.
Kinvara Girton. Well, I never. She’s a bit of a sexpot. I bet her mum is too, by the sounds of that conversation. The doorbell rang. It was Charlotte Foggins and Barwick Ford, all perspired and disheveled from shagging. No sooner had they enter the sitting room, the doorbell sounded again. It was Henny and Kinvara Girton. Kinvara was in a pink tweed Chanel mini miniskirt suit. She wore pearls again. She was carrying her black epi leather Louis Vuitton Alma bag. On her feet were Christian Louboutin black leather peep-toe shoes with six inch stiletto heels.
Henny was amazing, she looked like Bunny from the Antiques Show with a similar voice. She was wearing an Alexander McQueen dogtooth check skirt suit, Lanvin black leather gloves, a Roger Vivier black leather zips bag, pearls, and Versace black leather knee high boots with pointy toes and five inch stilettos and gold inside zips. She stood with her weight on one leg ‘Oh hello Carinthia darling, mwah mwah. And you must be the devilishly handsome Hugo Posset. Mmmmmmmm, very very nice underpants, young man. I sayyyy! This new underwear fashion for men is jolly refreshing!’ She smiled a broad grin ‘Sarah, how are you, darling mwah mwah’
‘Champagne anyone?’ said Barwick, pouring the Krug. He was like a bloodhound; he knew where the booze was.
‘Oh have you all met my daughter Kinvara' Henny announced, putting her large Prada sunglasses in her Vivier bag. Good zip sounds. She kept looking at my bulge.
‘Hello darling, mwah mwah’ said Sarah to Kinvara. I had to get a sneaky wank in; this kissing ritual was making me hard as a trout.
Barwick was passing around the champagne flutes ‘Sarah, you need a fucking butler!’
‘Barwick, darling’ said Charlotte ‘Don’t swear in front of new people’
‘Oh I don’t care, darling’ brayed Henny unruffled, with her posh accent, making me really hard ‘I’ll be getting one of you young bucks to spunk on my fucking lovely tits later, just don’t stain my Alexander McQueen suit. Then I’ll be cross. I shall have to administer a rather good spanking if you stain my suit’
‘Henny darling’ laughed Carinthia ‘You haven’t changed. Still completely sex mad. You’ll like it here!’
‘Yes, you’ll like it here’ I smiled, looking at those fucking lovely Versace leather boots and her well-toned legs. They say fifty is the new thirty. Here’s proof. She saw me ogling her knee-high boots.
‘Hugo sweetie, get down there and give my Versace boots a bloody good kissing’ said Henny, putting a foot forward, sipping champagne. ‘Carinthia darling, your place is looking super sweet. Love the paintings. I collect sporting paintings, amongst other things. Hugo, darling, I hear you’re acquainted with an artist who paints risqué stuff. I’ll have to jot down his number.’
‘Barwick’ said Charlotte, sitting down on the red leather sofa from Lambert and Lambert, ‘come here, darling; I want to carry on having sex with you.’ Barwick was emancipated from his pants and started snogging Charlotte passionately, ignoring the polite introductory chatter.
‘Hugo’ said Kinvara, with a voice like Liza Goddard, ‘Kiss my shoes too, they’re Christian Louboutin.’ She put a high-heeled foot next to her mother’s.
‘Oh aren’t we all so jolly lucky to be having our shoes kissed by Hugo Posset’ said Carinthia joining in.
‘Yah, my boots haven’t been kissed by Hugo for at least ten minutes’ smiled Sarah. This was a good display of posh leg. Very good indeed as I went from foot to foot, listening to the girls chat about old times and apartments and holidays in Tuscany. I was wanking furiously, on the floor, kissing heel after gorgeous heel, leather toe and boot zip. I looked up Henny’s Alexander McQueen dogtooth check skirt and could see she wearing a butterfly vibrator. Bloody hell, they’re all at it. Vibrators are endemic in the upper strata. Future archaeologists will be saying how kinky those people were that lived in the late twenty-first century. On a par with the Romans, they will say.
‘I saw you looking up my skirt you naughty boy’ admonished Henny.
‘What colour are my knickers?’ asked Kinvara, nudging me with her Louis Vuitton bag.
‘Flesh colour’ I said, kissing her calves.
‘Yah, I’m not wearing knickers’ she laughed.
‘I suppose I better take mine orf too, then’ said Carinthia, leaving her leopard print thong around her ankles. I kissed her pointy stilettos and her wet knickers. Damn I was hard as a baton again. Barwick and Charlotte were fucking like rabbits on the sofa. I love Cadogan Square. I love sporting prints and chandeliers and Alexander McQueen dogtooth check suits. Horny fucking Hugo I am.
‘I’m going to walk up and down the piano keys. Come on Hugo’ said Sarah. The doorbell sounded again. Full house tonight. Was it was an octopus in stiletto heels? No it wasn’t, it was Max Ponds, and he was with Lord Baslington and Zara Parker-Pumpkinson, who incidentally had been home to change into a new outfit. Honor Blackmore strode in, in her Christian Louboutin boots and navy blue Valentino silk mini dress and Lanvin blue leather opera gloves. She carried her Jezebel clutch bag.
‘Look at those zips, Hugo’ she purred, as I said hello.
There were more kisses and introductions. More champagne corks were popped. Barwick took a break from the sofa, as Charlotte lay there snorting coke off the coffee table playing with Carinthia’s gold dildo. The plasma screen was on. Joanna Lamley was chatting to Venetia Leerbourne-Zeal about a new law. The Tories were trying to pass a law that high heels must be worn by the upper-middle and upper classes at all times. Ballet flats were permitted on Sundays. Henrietta was backing the idea fully; Quentessentially would be part of the campaign.
‘Oh it’s about time’ brayed Zara Parker-Pumpkinson, wearing a denim jacket and denim short shorts by Chloe and Patrick Cox mauve leather knee high boots with zips up the front and eight inch platform heels. She had a big Chanel quilted leather chain bag full of sex drugs and coke and her blue dildo, Cameron had fresh batteries.
‘Good to see Lamley discussing the important issues of the day’ said Charlotte, naked as she had disrobed from her Chanel croc suit, resting a Balenciaga zip front gladiator shod foot on a book of Helmut Newton shoe photos on the coffee table, as I kissed the shoe and snorted coke off the leather straps, sucking her toes and wanking, as Zara opened her denim shorts fly and rammed Cameron in there and left it there as she built a Charlie spliff.
‘Come on Hugo you fucking perve; get your lips on my new Patrick Cox boots’ boasted Zara. She put on Lord Baslington’s studded top hat and mimicked the Lord ‘That’s it Hugo old boy, jolly good show, jolly super, get right in there!’
Lord Baslington overheard and applauded Zara, toasting with a full bottle of Krug. Thank fuck for Krug.
‘Oh yah’ said Joanna Lamley on the plasma screen ‘as the camera zoomed in on her ridiculously high Yves Saint Laurent covered leather platform heels ‘I say, if one talks posh, one should wear high heels. In fact the smarter you are, the higher the heel should be.’
‘Absolutely, darling’ said Venetia, smiling a huge smile ‘I’m sooo posh and I’m wearing six inch Jimmy Choos and I feel so much more horny for doing so. It should be compulsory. On top of that, any chavvy women caught wearing high heels should be fined.’
‘Oh that’s a terribly good idea, Venetia. Would you like a job in the Cabinet?’ Joanna Lamley was dangling a Dior platform wedge with a knotted leather vamp. The camera shifted to it.
Zara sat back and smoked a spliff, moaning and coming. I sat on Kinvara Girton’s lap, bashing one out, on the brink of orgasm due to taking a Climobrink pill. Max was sitting on Henny Girton’s lap doing the same thing. It was almost competitive. Lord Baslington was playing ‘Kiss Me Once Kiss Me Twice Kiss Me Three Times You Naughty Boy’ on the grand piano.
‘Oh jolly super musicianship’ clapped Carinthia, dancing around like a flower, still with her panties round her ankles. Sarah was sitting on a mounted Hermes leather saddle, quite drunk, with a hunting bugle, blowing into it and laughing. Some of the sex drugs were doing strange things to people. I think a few Gigglesex pills had found their way into the cocktail.
‘Oh Hugo, let’s go like hell for leather over the Cotswolds, darling’ she cried, kicking her boots.
‘Fantastic riding boots’ I said and started to play with the back zip on one of them, as she giggled and pretended to ride. The rez music had been turned up a notch; my helmet was throbbing sporadically with the pleasure. The Climobrink wore off and I shot my load all over Sarah’s bum.
Lord Baslington carried on singing lewd ditties, masterful with the piano keys. What a dark horse he was. Max Ponds was busy on Henny’s lap.
‘Oh I love your shoes Venetia’ said Joanna Lamley ‘how much were they?’
‘Eight hundred pounds; Jimmy Choo, darling’ boasted Venetia, as the camera zoomed in on a beautiful foot strapped into very high-heeled Jimmy Choo black leather ‘Seattle’ platform sandal.
‘Bloody bargain’ nodded Lamley.
‘Perfect for sex parties’ added Venetia. ‘Especially ones with Hugo Posset. He does appreciate a good pair of heels’
‘Oh he is the perfect gentleman, you know, I often head down to the Royal Gallery to see if he’s got any good sculptures. I do hope he gets the Poussin back. Did you hear about the theft? Lady Trammerton was very upset.’
‘I do hear the police are looking around the World’s End area of Chelsea, darling’ said Venetia
‘Are you in Chelsea?’ Asked Lamley.
‘Oh yah’ replied Venetia ‘I’ve just moved into a rather gorgeous place on Wellington Square’
‘Super darling’ said Lamley.
In the World’s End pub, the TV screen flickered.
‘Fucking hell. Anything goes missing, the old bill assume the good people of Worlds End must be something to do with it’ said Tony the Leg
‘Fuck em’ said Lloyd Perkins, sipping a pint of ale, looking out of the window watching a beautiful chestnut haired Sloane wearing Dior sunglasses totter by in Alaia python platform wedges, a short white dress and a tan Yves Saint Laurent Downtown bag with brass zips flicking about as she strode along in the hot sunshine. Lloyd had no idea it was Clementine Parker-Pumpkinson, Zara’s younger sister. She got in a vintage Mercedes SLK 320 and zoomed off.
Sarah was now pretending she was coming in on the final furlong at the Gold Cup.
‘I’m on Hotty Favourite’ she laughed ‘I’m sooo going to win by a nose’
‘Go on Sarah, not far to go’ urged Lord Baslington, having a break from playing the piano, rubbing his bionic knob.
‘Yah, I can see the finish line, darling. I’m sooo fucking fast’ Sarah bragged, kicking her heels against stirrups.
‘Go on girl, go on girl’ cried Lord Baslington, watching her bare arse going up and down in the leather saddle as she drank Krug. She was climaxing. The saddle was wet.
‘Mmmmmmm yah mmmmmmmm’ She hit the finish line.
‘Hurrah for Hotty Favourite’ clapped Lord Baslington. Carinthia and Kinvara were dancing to the powerful stimulating rez music with Max Ponds, who was naked with his cock swinging about like a fish trying to escape a net. Henny came over to join the dancing as the chandelier lights dimmed and candles automatically came alight. The plasma screen changed to a live view of women trying on shoes in a Sergio Rossi boutique.
Zara just sat on the sofa watching the plasma screen, spaced out and having orgasms, drinking Krug and smelling Carinthia’s knickers in a Chanel leather bag.
‘Oh I fucking love the smell of dirty pants and posh leather’ slurred Zara, giggling and waving Cameron about, switched to full speed.
‘Hugo, darling, come and kiss my boots again, it’s time’ Zara insisted. They were lovely boots, those Patrick Cox ones. She crossed her legs and swung a boot as I kissed and licked the mauve leather. She fiddled with the zip pull; undoing her boot halfway and then zipping it back up again, repeating this action as I got harder and more excited. She held the powerful tip of Cameron against my helmet.
‘Come on Hugo, kiss my fucking boots clean!’ Zara purred. I could hold on no longer and I came like Billy ho all over her legs. She made me lick the spunk off her legs, mixing it with Krug. She poured Krug like it was water on her legs and made me lap it off like a dog. Her legs were fucking tasty. They were goose pimply sometimes.
‘I want to shove caviar up my fucking cunt and I want you to eat it, Hugo you perve’ she laughed.
‘Caviar, there is some in the kitchen’ I said and went to get a jar.
‘Where are you going?’ said Max
‘Getting some caviar’ I said
‘Fucking hell. Dinner is served’ said Max.
‘Dinner is here’ said Zara, pointing at her cunt with Cameron. ‘Feed it caviar’
I smothered caviar around her vagina and buried my tongue inside, yes a lovely flavour it was. Zara poured Krug all over Lord Baslington’s cock when he came over to observe the first course.
‘Etiquette’ snapped Zara ‘where’s your fucking napkin?’
‘I say, I love caviar’ said Lord Baslington
‘Wait your turn’ said Zara making him suck some caviar off the end of Cameron. ‘Oh my god this stuff is an absolutely amazing substitute for KY’
‘That was one of my finest jars’ boasted Carinthia ‘All the way from the Volga’
‘And into the vulva’ said Max.
‘Oh Max, you naughty boy’ said Henny. She clearly had the hots for Max. ‘Fancy heading upstairs for a private dance?’
‘Naughty naughty mummy’ smiled Kinvara, boogieing like Uma Thurman in her Chanel tweed suit and her Louboutin black leather peep-toe stilettos on.
‘Please use the master bedroom’ said Carinthia.
Lord Baslington was shafting Zara furiously from behind; there was caviar and Krug all over the shot. I was licking excess mess off her boots as Sarah gave me a blowjob. Barwick was ramming Cameron up Sarah’s bum and Charlotte was wanking Barwick’s cock with the latex vibrating vagina he got as a present. Honor Blackmore was sitting with her booted legs crossed, watching the plasma TV and Sergio Rossi shoes being tried on. Carinthia was singing some arias at the piano. The doorbell sounded.
Nobody answered; everyone was too busy enjoying the full flow of the orgy. The doorbell sounded. Carinthia tottered to the door in her high heels, preening her hair a bit. She opened the door and there was a tall young policeman standing there.
‘Hello. I am sorry to trouble you, but we’ve had a complaint from another resident regarding the music levels coming from your apartment. Do you have a rez music set up?
‘Yes we do, officer, but we have rez insulation fitted’ she said
‘Well, half an hour ago, several ladies at a tea party next door were all having to be consoled after experiencing large amounts of rez.’ said the copper, trying to hide a smirk.
‘Oh dear, I’m awfully sorry. Are they OK?’ Carinthia was standing with weight on one heel.
‘Two ladies got so excited they almost choked on ginger cake’ said the copper.
‘Oh my god’ said Carinthia ‘We’d better turn our rez system down a notch’
‘Yes, I would advise that’ smiled the copper. ‘I don’t want to have to come back. I would also get the insulation checked at some point’
‘Yes, I most certainly will do. So sorry’ Carinthia pivoted on a heel and came back in.
The copper radioed back to base ‘Yes, it’s sorted out. Yeah, she was a right posh sort. You never know what’s going on behind these expensive facades do you. I mean, for all I know, they’re shoving caviar up their vaginas. Ha ha ha. Yeah, I know, I doubt it. It’s a nice thought though.’
‘Who was it’ asked Lord Baslington, still pumping Zara.
‘Oh just a rozzer. Seems our rez music was too high and some ladies next door had some extended clitoral stimulation. They were having a tea party, ha ha ha’ Carinthia was twiddling her hair.
‘Oh my god, really. Oh dear’ smiled Kinvara.
‘Turn it up to twenty, give them a real fucking buzz’ laughed Zara.
‘Yah, I wondered because I noticed the postman was hanging around outside the front door last week and I had the machine turned up quite high. He’d delivered some letters and was there on the step for longer than usual. So, it wasn’t the decorative swags above the door he was interested in, after all. Oh dear, he must have spunked in his pants.’ Carinthia went to check the machine.
‘Don’t turn it too low’ I said ‘I want some background stimulation’
The rez was lower and it was playing various zip sounds, quite sporadically, but rather exciting. Now it was lower I had to take a few more Ultrasex and I snorted more coke off Zara’s leg.
‘Snort it yahhhh snort that naughty white line’ Zara enunciated slowly and perfectly as I perused the details in her Patrick Cox boot, with Sarah licking my helmet like a cat.
‘Sarah puss’ said Charlotte.
‘Miaowww’ said Sarah, wanking and licking my cock.
‘Naughty Sarah puss’ purred Charlotte, going back to snogging Barwick Ford, as I came to a nice orgasm whilst kissing Zara’s boot, spunking like a fountain into Sarah’s mouth.
I decided to go upstairs and I fell asleep in a four poster bed ensconced in heaps of linen. I could still hear the sounds of people having sex as I drifted off and the rez music was very very subtle.
The golden car and connected leather penis pulled up outside The Botty, which was heaving as usual. I saw Sarah Cavendish-Peel sitting cross-legged chatting to Barwick Ford and Max Ponds. Sarah was stunning in her new outfit. Black leather mini dress by Gucci with a zip down the front and back with logo zip pulls and large see through gold Gucci logos over each nipple, over her crotch (she was commando), and on each bum cheek. A white leopard print Ballantyne scarf adorned her neck. Black leather Gucci gloves with logo zip pulls. Black leather Christian Louboutin covered platform knee high boots with back zips. Large black leather Chloe Betty zips bag. Dior oversized sunglasses on the head. Lots of silver and black leather bangles. I was dying to stick my tongue in those Gucci logos. Barwick and Max both had visible bulges in their Dior briefs. It seemed as though my penchant for wearing just underwear was catching on, a lot of men were walking about in the hot streets of West London with skimpy thongs on.
‘Hugo darrrrling’ purred Sarah, swinging a booted leg, fiddling with a zip on her Chloe bag and holding a latex toy vagina that she had bought Barwick for his birthday, since he had split with Henrietta for a while. Her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as she asked a few people to stick their fingers in the sex toy, smiling her big posh smile. Sarah Cavendish-Peel, the horniest Sloane in the city in one of the sexiest outfits I’d seen her in this summer. I knew we were going to have a huge amount of sex today. Sure enough, she slid a leather gloved hand down my pants and started jerking my erect penis at the table.
‘Jolly super’ said Sarah ‘Getting lost in Surrey has made you horny’
‘Yeah, that and you’re fucking sex boots!’ I grinned.
‘He’s got his eye on those boots’ said Max, eyeing up Skinny and Buxham who were chatting by the penis. A crowd had gathered around the artifact. One man was standing behind it, pretending it was his cock. What a cock he was.
Sarah rubbed my cock harder ‘Darling, it must have been rather a shock, realizing you were lost in the wilderness. Gosh it must have been like sooo inconvenient’. Damn she was good at hand jobs. I could see her erect nipples under those gold Gucci logos. She’s always flashing off her erogenous zones. I started to finger her through the Gucci logo on her crotch, she moaned and purred.
‘Mmmmmmmmm I soooo adore a bit of Hugo finger through the Gucci logo mmmmmm mmmmmm yahhhh mmmmmmm oh gosh mmmmmm’ she moaned.
‘Ere Hugo, fancy a bit of mango juice’ Max teased.
‘I’d rather have some breast milk mate’ I said, tonguing Sarah’s nipple through the Gucci logo. ‘This is a sensational little number, Sarah’ I said.
‘Mostly Gucci, darling. The boots are Christian Louboutin. Fucking exorbitant but super gorgeous gorgeous leather. I feel terribly horny wearing Christian Lous’ She moved a heel towards my drooling lips. I kissed the soft leather. I ran my lips up along the back zip to her knee pit. Fingering her clit, through the double G logo.
I grabbed her by the gloved hand ‘Come on Sarah, let’s have a quick one over your parent’s gaff’
‘Fucking only been here a minute’ said Max ‘and he’s off again’
Barwick chirped up ‘we’ll be here all night, Hugo, you’d better join us for a beer at some point, instead of fucking all the posh totty left right and centre’
‘Fordy, I’ll try and give it up sometime’ I said
‘And the three fucking bears’ laughed Max, looking at Sarah’s cunt through the G logo.
‘Come on bear’ purred Sarah ‘to Cadogan for naughties we must go!’
‘Hey’ said Barwick ‘Leave the latex cunt, I might need that tonight’
Sarah put the latex vagina back on the table and Max started tonguing it, much to the amusement of some raucous city women who were swinging their Longchamp bags and laughing and snorting. Max went right up to them and made fart noises in it and they were almost falling over in their high heels. He was Sloane Square’s answer to the Pied Piper. He was strutting around the pub, with several pissed women following him, slapping his bum as he tried to blow tunes on the latex vagina. Zanna Buxham and Skinny were in the line, drinking white wine Spritzers, and pinching random men’s bums.
‘The ginger guy really knows how to play a flange’ said Skinny
‘Yah, he’s a total fucking virtuoso’ laughed a woman who looked like Nigella Lawson in red leather Walter Steiger knee high boots.
‘Go on Max, play that funky vagina’ cheered Barwick from his seat, necking a Long Island ice tea.
‘Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to fuck we go’ he sang with about twenty women following him back into the pub and Jeremy Duke at the end. Jeremy Duke!
‘Duke, you old fucker. Finally found your niche have you old boy’ boomed Barwick.
‘Fuck off Duke’ said Max ‘Go and wank over some old umbrellas!’
‘Jolly good idea’ said Jeremy, having drunk way too much beer.
‘I have a beautiful Liberty brolly, darling’ said Charlotte Foggins, who had joined Barwick at the table ‘you’d simply love it Dukers, it’s got a crocodile handle and opens with a very satisfying snap. I know you would like to open it in a downpour and wank yourself off underneath it’.
‘Pitter patter raindrops’ added Barwick.
‘It is rather a lovely one’ said Charlotte, getting Barwick’s attention more and more.
Charlotte crossed her legs. She was wearing a green Chanel croc leather mini skirt suit, flowery-patterned Wolford stockings, a Dolce & Gabbana leather Lily bag in various colours with about eight zips and Balenciaga zip front gladiator shoes in black leather. Her Ferragamo silk scarf had pictures of horses with big cocks on it.
‘I’m bloody horny’ said Barwick
‘OK, my Porsche Cayenne is parked up around the corner, let’s go dogging, darling’ purred Charlotte, swinging a Wolford leg, rubbing Barwick’s crotch with the sole of her Balenciaga shoe.
‘Right, let’s go you hotty’ enthused Barwick, with a bulge like the Matterhorn.
‘It’s brand new, darling, with bespoke Chanel leather interior’ boasted Charlotte as she tap-tapped along the pavement in her high heels.
‘Jolly good show’ said Barwick, almost coming on the way to the car.
I followed Sarah Cavendish-Peel up the mosaic steps of her parents’ Cadogan Square apartment. I watched her shapely hips moving under the soft leather dress and the back of her well-toned legs and the zips fluttering on the back of the Christian Louboutin boots. I was fluttering inside, in anticipation of getting down to business.
‘You know, darling, I think they may have a lead regarding the Nicolas Poussin’ she said
Oh no, no that. She loved that painting.
‘Cool’ I said ‘That reminds me, I need to run off some prints of Two Dildos at Royal Ascot. You said it was proving to be very popular at Jibby’s’
‘How on earth do you know I said that?’ asked Sarah ‘You were in Surrey bonking Camilla SD and Rah Rah’
‘Oh Lord Baslington mentioned it’ I said.
‘Ah, Lord Bionic Willy’ she smiled.
‘Yeah, he’s got a cock like a fucking Ferrari, and he needs it, with that sexy Honor Blackmore driving him around with her dirty husky posh accent. She’s a simulacrum, you know. A fucking Stepford Sloane.’ I entered the sitting room and sat down in a very elegant modern red leather chair with white stitching and a chrome frame from Lambert and Lambert on the Pimlico Road. I looked up at the glinting chandeliers and across at the polished grand piano, on top of which was a large white vase of red roses. Sarah mixed some drinks at the bar. She lit up a Sobranie.
‘A cock like a Ferrari’ she giggled. ‘I can imagine him, tearing down the Brompton Road, ejaculating everywhere’
‘Yeah, coming all over the denizens of Kensington’ I added. Sarah posed on a red leather and gold thirties chaise-longue, like a decadent woman from the same era, chiaroscuro lighting on her leather clad figure, with little glints emanating from her zips and logos. James Tissot would have picked out the details. She smoked a Sobranie in a cigarette holder, wearing those Gucci black leather gloves. Fuck, I was hard.
‘Yah, spunk everywhere, darling. Lord Bazzer shooting his load all over smart ladies in tweed suits and Launer bags.’ Sarah crossed her booted legs. I could see her nipples poking through those Gucci logos, as she breathed. She sipped on a cocktail glass. Sexy rez music was playing on a moderate level. Rez music stimulated my penis.
‘He can’t stop his cock ejaculating’ I continued ‘He runs around and around the fucking Boltons, coming in peoples garden plant pots’
Sarah, swung a booted leg, to the rhythm of the vibrant music, which was vibrating her clitoris ‘Yah, Lord Bazzer soooo can’t stop climaxing all over their classical sculptures and fragrant rhododendrons and sumptuous lawns. He completely enshrouds Zanna Buxham in spunk. She’s positively doing the butterfly stroke in his semen, completely naked, all but those Zuhair Murad shoes she very often wears. Globules flying off the heels, darling. Fucking big globules of spunk’
I started wanking my hard cock, looking at Sarah’s beautiful face in the contrasting light, her big mascara eyes glinting in excitement. I continued the story ‘He sticks his massive shaft up Buxham’s arse right there on her front lawn at The Boltons, making her shout in pleasure. Her long red finger nails grabbing at fallen blossom. He’s relentlessly pumping; that engorged Ferrari engine negotiating chicanes and whoops. The two lovers are at Monaco. Lady Trammerton is commentating’
Sarah again ‘Lady Trammerton is saying there are many more laps to go, the weather is hot and Lord Bazzer is in tip top shape. One orgasm after another. Buxham is thrashing around like a wild beast in the afternoon sun’ I was standing up, looking down at Sarah who started to rub her Louboutin heel on my cock. She had several excellent techniques. She smoked the Sobranie. Twirls of smoke rose to the ornate ceiling, weaving around the chandeliers.
Carinthia Cavendish-Peel tottered into the sitting room, Sarah’s mum. Sarah’s fucking mum.
‘Brilliant story’ she said ‘The two of you should be on radio four, ha ha’
‘Mummy! What are you doing home? I thought you were on the hunt today?’ Sarah regained her composure on the chaise-longue, crossing her legs. I still had my cock out, standing high like a prize marrow.
‘No the hunt’s orf today, darling, so I’m going to chill out. Terribly beautiful cock by the way Hugo’ Carinthia sat down in her Daks tan check skirt suit, diamond patterned Wolfords and Salvatore Ferragamo pointy stilettos in black leather with gold logos on the heel. She placed her Chanel chain bag on the coffee table.
‘So where were we’ she continued ‘Lord Baslington was doing Zanna Buxham up the shitter while she was crawling about in peach blossom’
‘Mummy, we didn’t mention peach blossom’ said Sarah, sipping her cocktail.
‘There are peach trees everywhere at The Boltons, darling. It fits’ Carinthia dangled a pointy stiletto. She was very sexy for a woman in her fifties. She resembled Honor Blackmore. I began to wonder if she was a simulacrum. She wasn’t. She had one of those old money Sloane posh accents, slightly husky, and she spoke very softly.
‘Up the shitter’ I said, looking at Carinthia’s knee, with diamond pattern Wolford stockings. I perused the detail.
‘Yah, up the fucking shitter’ said Carinthia. ‘So Hugo, are you ready to participate in a bit of filthy mother and daughter action? Before I go shopping in Peter Jones for a new Mulberry bag’
‘Mummy, don’t you get enough cock from some of the old randy huntsmen?’ said Sarah, pushing her Gucci logo framed vagina in my face. I noticed several sporting paintings on the walls. Easy to sell, sporting prints, you can’t go wrong in West London.
‘Well, obviously’ said Carinthia ‘old Bertie Shrimley has a cock the size of a musket and goes like a tiger, since he had his Masters and Jones enhancement. They really are terribly clever at Masters and Jones. I’m thinking of having some work done’
‘Mummy, it’s money soooo well spent’ said Sarah, as I wanked, sitting on her knee.
‘Oh Hugo darling, come and sit on my knee’ said Carinthia, crossing her legs. I obliged, I sat on Carinthia’s posh knee. I continued wanking; listening to both of their ridiculously posh accents.
‘Of course’ said Carinthia ‘I have all this money coming in from trust funds and all sorts, I can’t spend it all on shoes and bags’
‘A new fanny from Masters and Jones would be an asset’ I said, wanking faster.
‘Absolutely, darling. Those clever scientists are always inventing new models. I hear the Stimulabia Forty-Two is very popular. They say it’s the Jaguar of vaginas’ said Carinthia; now rubbing my cock with her elegant hand, with painted red nails and a diamond ring around her finger that vibrated. I looked at Sarah, who was sitting cross-legged on the seat by the grand piano, tinkling intermittent notes, as the rez music stimulated us all, both physically and psychologically. We also took some Ultrasex pills and snorted a few lines of coke. I snorted a line off Carinthia’s knee, while I wanked and almost came on her shoes. I licked some powder off the pointy toe of her Salvatore Ferragamo shoe.
‘Hugo, darling’ said Sarah ‘let’s fuck on the piano. In front of mummy. Mummy, watch us fuck on the grand piano.’
‘Jolly super’ purred Carinthia, taking a large gold vibrator from her Chanel chain bag and switching it on. ‘I’ll watch you fuck on the grand piano and you can listen to me moaning in unbridled pleasure as I vibrate my clit into oblivion’.
I fucked Sarah like a mad goat, with her boots wrapped around my back. Her hair was connecting with the succulently large rose petals. I had a good view of our profile in a large gilt-framed mirror from Nick Baslem on the Pimlico Road. I could see Carinthia on the red leather chaise-longue, with her leg cocked up as she stimulated herself with the vibrator. She was still dressed very smartly, aside from a few snags in her Wolford stockings.
‘Oh yahhhh mmmmmm oh you naughty rabbits going at it’ she enthused.
Sarah moaned plenty ‘mmmmmm Hugo darling mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm you big dragon cock mmmm mmmmm’
‘I love your Louboutins’ I pumped away, feeling the leather, sucking on a nipple through the Gucci logo dress, feeling a stiletto heel as she moaned and giggled. I saw our reflection in the polished wood of the grand piano, rose petals were dropping off. Her blonde hair tumbling like soft feathers. I came to orgasm as Sarah went ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm’. I continued, still as hard as rock, licking her expensive boots and wanking fast, licking zips and knee pits. I was up her again, pumping like Charleston pumps Birkins; I was soon coming to another amazing climax.
Sarah’s Blackberry rang in her Chloe bag. She fumbled to get it as I stroked Carinthia’s clit with the gold vibrator. Mother and daughter looked so fucking posh, yet so bloody filthy. I wanked over Carinthia’s Chanel bag. Carinthia licked the pre-come off the soft quilted leather.
‘Hello darling’ said Sarah into her Blackberry ‘Oh Charlotte, are you having fun? Naughty fucking Barwick. Yah he’s a perve sometimes. Yah, we’re soooo having kinky sex. Mummy’s here too. Yahh! We just had the best fucking shag on the piano, darling. Sooooo amazing. I thought I was going to heaven. Oh Charlotte, you should come over. Yah, dogging in Porsche Cayennes is soooo fucking good, yah. Tell Barwick to spunk all over the leather seats and lick it all off! No, we haven’t heard much about the painting. Oh ciao darling’
She dropped the Blackberry back in her bag ‘That was Charlotte Foggins, having a fucking rousing time with Barwick so I hear. He’s forgot about Henrietta BC already. They might pop over for drinks and more sex later’
‘More sex’ I panted, spunking in Carinthia’s Sloaney mouth, her long tongue flicking at my helmet. No wonder she’s popular bonking with the Berkeley. I looked at the faces of the huntsmen in the paintings and noticed they had aroused expressions. Hunting must be fun. These days they hunt a robot fox.
‘Oh there goes my Blackberry’ said Carinthia, opening her Chanel bag, crossing her legs. ‘Hello. Yah, it’s Carinthia. Yah. Oh hello darling, how are you? I was just thinking, I haven’t heard from Henny Girton in ages. Oh yah, you must. Really. Oh yah, pop in darling. I’m with my daughter and her friend, Hugo. Hugo Posset who runs the Royal Gallery. Hen, darling, behave! Naughty Hen. Ha ha. I have to say the old rhyme, darling. At a party in Chelsea I saw Henrietta Girton playing with willies with a leather skirt on! Ha ha. Yah, he’s here with some awfully good tales about Lord Baslington. Yah, he’s the one with the new cock. It was a terribly nasty encounter with a shark. Oh yahh, so super darling. Yah, so good you’re in the area. Yah. Oh see you in a jiffy’
‘Henny Girton’s popping over, a friend I haven’t seen in years. She’s with her daughter, Kinvara, shopping at Peter Jones.’ Carinthia checked her make up and wiped some spunk off her shoes.
Kinvara Girton. Well, I never. She’s a bit of a sexpot. I bet her mum is too, by the sounds of that conversation. The doorbell rang. It was Charlotte Foggins and Barwick Ford, all perspired and disheveled from shagging. No sooner had they enter the sitting room, the doorbell sounded again. It was Henny and Kinvara Girton. Kinvara was in a pink tweed Chanel mini miniskirt suit. She wore pearls again. She was carrying her black epi leather Louis Vuitton Alma bag. On her feet were Christian Louboutin black leather peep-toe shoes with six inch stiletto heels.
Henny was amazing, she looked like Bunny from the Antiques Show with a similar voice. She was wearing an Alexander McQueen dogtooth check skirt suit, Lanvin black leather gloves, a Roger Vivier black leather zips bag, pearls, and Versace black leather knee high boots with pointy toes and five inch stilettos and gold inside zips. She stood with her weight on one leg ‘Oh hello Carinthia darling, mwah mwah. And you must be the devilishly handsome Hugo Posset. Mmmmmmmm, very very nice underpants, young man. I sayyyy! This new underwear fashion for men is jolly refreshing!’ She smiled a broad grin ‘Sarah, how are you, darling mwah mwah’
‘Champagne anyone?’ said Barwick, pouring the Krug. He was like a bloodhound; he knew where the booze was.
‘Oh have you all met my daughter Kinvara' Henny announced, putting her large Prada sunglasses in her Vivier bag. Good zip sounds. She kept looking at my bulge.
‘Hello darling, mwah mwah’ said Sarah to Kinvara. I had to get a sneaky wank in; this kissing ritual was making me hard as a trout.
Barwick was passing around the champagne flutes ‘Sarah, you need a fucking butler!’
‘Barwick, darling’ said Charlotte ‘Don’t swear in front of new people’
‘Oh I don’t care, darling’ brayed Henny unruffled, with her posh accent, making me really hard ‘I’ll be getting one of you young bucks to spunk on my fucking lovely tits later, just don’t stain my Alexander McQueen suit. Then I’ll be cross. I shall have to administer a rather good spanking if you stain my suit’
‘Henny darling’ laughed Carinthia ‘You haven’t changed. Still completely sex mad. You’ll like it here!’
‘Yes, you’ll like it here’ I smiled, looking at those fucking lovely Versace leather boots and her well-toned legs. They say fifty is the new thirty. Here’s proof. She saw me ogling her knee-high boots.
‘Hugo sweetie, get down there and give my Versace boots a bloody good kissing’ said Henny, putting a foot forward, sipping champagne. ‘Carinthia darling, your place is looking super sweet. Love the paintings. I collect sporting paintings, amongst other things. Hugo, darling, I hear you’re acquainted with an artist who paints risqué stuff. I’ll have to jot down his number.’
‘Barwick’ said Charlotte, sitting down on the red leather sofa from Lambert and Lambert, ‘come here, darling; I want to carry on having sex with you.’ Barwick was emancipated from his pants and started snogging Charlotte passionately, ignoring the polite introductory chatter.
‘Hugo’ said Kinvara, with a voice like Liza Goddard, ‘Kiss my shoes too, they’re Christian Louboutin.’ She put a high-heeled foot next to her mother’s.
‘Oh aren’t we all so jolly lucky to be having our shoes kissed by Hugo Posset’ said Carinthia joining in.
‘Yah, my boots haven’t been kissed by Hugo for at least ten minutes’ smiled Sarah. This was a good display of posh leg. Very good indeed as I went from foot to foot, listening to the girls chat about old times and apartments and holidays in Tuscany. I was wanking furiously, on the floor, kissing heel after gorgeous heel, leather toe and boot zip. I looked up Henny’s Alexander McQueen dogtooth check skirt and could see she wearing a butterfly vibrator. Bloody hell, they’re all at it. Vibrators are endemic in the upper strata. Future archaeologists will be saying how kinky those people were that lived in the late twenty-first century. On a par with the Romans, they will say.
‘I saw you looking up my skirt you naughty boy’ admonished Henny.
‘What colour are my knickers?’ asked Kinvara, nudging me with her Louis Vuitton bag.
‘Flesh colour’ I said, kissing her calves.
‘Yah, I’m not wearing knickers’ she laughed.
‘I suppose I better take mine orf too, then’ said Carinthia, leaving her leopard print thong around her ankles. I kissed her pointy stilettos and her wet knickers. Damn I was hard as a baton again. Barwick and Charlotte were fucking like rabbits on the sofa. I love Cadogan Square. I love sporting prints and chandeliers and Alexander McQueen dogtooth check suits. Horny fucking Hugo I am.
‘I’m going to walk up and down the piano keys. Come on Hugo’ said Sarah. The doorbell sounded again. Full house tonight. Was it was an octopus in stiletto heels? No it wasn’t, it was Max Ponds, and he was with Lord Baslington and Zara Parker-Pumpkinson, who incidentally had been home to change into a new outfit. Honor Blackmore strode in, in her Christian Louboutin boots and navy blue Valentino silk mini dress and Lanvin blue leather opera gloves. She carried her Jezebel clutch bag.
‘Look at those zips, Hugo’ she purred, as I said hello.
There were more kisses and introductions. More champagne corks were popped. Barwick took a break from the sofa, as Charlotte lay there snorting coke off the coffee table playing with Carinthia’s gold dildo. The plasma screen was on. Joanna Lamley was chatting to Venetia Leerbourne-Zeal about a new law. The Tories were trying to pass a law that high heels must be worn by the upper-middle and upper classes at all times. Ballet flats were permitted on Sundays. Henrietta was backing the idea fully; Quentessentially would be part of the campaign.
‘Oh it’s about time’ brayed Zara Parker-Pumpkinson, wearing a denim jacket and denim short shorts by Chloe and Patrick Cox mauve leather knee high boots with zips up the front and eight inch platform heels. She had a big Chanel quilted leather chain bag full of sex drugs and coke and her blue dildo, Cameron had fresh batteries.
‘Good to see Lamley discussing the important issues of the day’ said Charlotte, naked as she had disrobed from her Chanel croc suit, resting a Balenciaga zip front gladiator shod foot on a book of Helmut Newton shoe photos on the coffee table, as I kissed the shoe and snorted coke off the leather straps, sucking her toes and wanking, as Zara opened her denim shorts fly and rammed Cameron in there and left it there as she built a Charlie spliff.
‘Come on Hugo you fucking perve; get your lips on my new Patrick Cox boots’ boasted Zara. She put on Lord Baslington’s studded top hat and mimicked the Lord ‘That’s it Hugo old boy, jolly good show, jolly super, get right in there!’
Lord Baslington overheard and applauded Zara, toasting with a full bottle of Krug. Thank fuck for Krug.
‘Oh yah’ said Joanna Lamley on the plasma screen ‘as the camera zoomed in on her ridiculously high Yves Saint Laurent covered leather platform heels ‘I say, if one talks posh, one should wear high heels. In fact the smarter you are, the higher the heel should be.’
‘Absolutely, darling’ said Venetia, smiling a huge smile ‘I’m sooo posh and I’m wearing six inch Jimmy Choos and I feel so much more horny for doing so. It should be compulsory. On top of that, any chavvy women caught wearing high heels should be fined.’
‘Oh that’s a terribly good idea, Venetia. Would you like a job in the Cabinet?’ Joanna Lamley was dangling a Dior platform wedge with a knotted leather vamp. The camera shifted to it.
Zara sat back and smoked a spliff, moaning and coming. I sat on Kinvara Girton’s lap, bashing one out, on the brink of orgasm due to taking a Climobrink pill. Max was sitting on Henny Girton’s lap doing the same thing. It was almost competitive. Lord Baslington was playing ‘Kiss Me Once Kiss Me Twice Kiss Me Three Times You Naughty Boy’ on the grand piano.
‘Oh jolly super musicianship’ clapped Carinthia, dancing around like a flower, still with her panties round her ankles. Sarah was sitting on a mounted Hermes leather saddle, quite drunk, with a hunting bugle, blowing into it and laughing. Some of the sex drugs were doing strange things to people. I think a few Gigglesex pills had found their way into the cocktail.
‘Oh Hugo, let’s go like hell for leather over the Cotswolds, darling’ she cried, kicking her boots.
‘Fantastic riding boots’ I said and started to play with the back zip on one of them, as she giggled and pretended to ride. The rez music had been turned up a notch; my helmet was throbbing sporadically with the pleasure. The Climobrink wore off and I shot my load all over Sarah’s bum.
Lord Baslington carried on singing lewd ditties, masterful with the piano keys. What a dark horse he was. Max Ponds was busy on Henny’s lap.
‘Oh I love your shoes Venetia’ said Joanna Lamley ‘how much were they?’
‘Eight hundred pounds; Jimmy Choo, darling’ boasted Venetia, as the camera zoomed in on a beautiful foot strapped into very high-heeled Jimmy Choo black leather ‘Seattle’ platform sandal.
‘Bloody bargain’ nodded Lamley.
‘Perfect for sex parties’ added Venetia. ‘Especially ones with Hugo Posset. He does appreciate a good pair of heels’
‘Oh he is the perfect gentleman, you know, I often head down to the Royal Gallery to see if he’s got any good sculptures. I do hope he gets the Poussin back. Did you hear about the theft? Lady Trammerton was very upset.’
‘I do hear the police are looking around the World’s End area of Chelsea, darling’ said Venetia
‘Are you in Chelsea?’ Asked Lamley.
‘Oh yah’ replied Venetia ‘I’ve just moved into a rather gorgeous place on Wellington Square’
‘Super darling’ said Lamley.
In the World’s End pub, the TV screen flickered.
‘Fucking hell. Anything goes missing, the old bill assume the good people of Worlds End must be something to do with it’ said Tony the Leg
‘Fuck em’ said Lloyd Perkins, sipping a pint of ale, looking out of the window watching a beautiful chestnut haired Sloane wearing Dior sunglasses totter by in Alaia python platform wedges, a short white dress and a tan Yves Saint Laurent Downtown bag with brass zips flicking about as she strode along in the hot sunshine. Lloyd had no idea it was Clementine Parker-Pumpkinson, Zara’s younger sister. She got in a vintage Mercedes SLK 320 and zoomed off.
Sarah was now pretending she was coming in on the final furlong at the Gold Cup.
‘I’m on Hotty Favourite’ she laughed ‘I’m sooo going to win by a nose’
‘Go on Sarah, not far to go’ urged Lord Baslington, having a break from playing the piano, rubbing his bionic knob.
‘Yah, I can see the finish line, darling. I’m sooo fucking fast’ Sarah bragged, kicking her heels against stirrups.
‘Go on girl, go on girl’ cried Lord Baslington, watching her bare arse going up and down in the leather saddle as she drank Krug. She was climaxing. The saddle was wet.
‘Mmmmmmm yah mmmmmmmm’ She hit the finish line.
‘Hurrah for Hotty Favourite’ clapped Lord Baslington. Carinthia and Kinvara were dancing to the powerful stimulating rez music with Max Ponds, who was naked with his cock swinging about like a fish trying to escape a net. Henny came over to join the dancing as the chandelier lights dimmed and candles automatically came alight. The plasma screen changed to a live view of women trying on shoes in a Sergio Rossi boutique.
Zara just sat on the sofa watching the plasma screen, spaced out and having orgasms, drinking Krug and smelling Carinthia’s knickers in a Chanel leather bag.
‘Oh I fucking love the smell of dirty pants and posh leather’ slurred Zara, giggling and waving Cameron about, switched to full speed.
‘Hugo, darling, come and kiss my boots again, it’s time’ Zara insisted. They were lovely boots, those Patrick Cox ones. She crossed her legs and swung a boot as I kissed and licked the mauve leather. She fiddled with the zip pull; undoing her boot halfway and then zipping it back up again, repeating this action as I got harder and more excited. She held the powerful tip of Cameron against my helmet.
‘Come on Hugo, kiss my fucking boots clean!’ Zara purred. I could hold on no longer and I came like Billy ho all over her legs. She made me lick the spunk off her legs, mixing it with Krug. She poured Krug like it was water on her legs and made me lap it off like a dog. Her legs were fucking tasty. They were goose pimply sometimes.
‘I want to shove caviar up my fucking cunt and I want you to eat it, Hugo you perve’ she laughed.
‘Caviar, there is some in the kitchen’ I said and went to get a jar.
‘Where are you going?’ said Max
‘Getting some caviar’ I said
‘Fucking hell. Dinner is served’ said Max.
‘Dinner is here’ said Zara, pointing at her cunt with Cameron. ‘Feed it caviar’
I smothered caviar around her vagina and buried my tongue inside, yes a lovely flavour it was. Zara poured Krug all over Lord Baslington’s cock when he came over to observe the first course.
‘Etiquette’ snapped Zara ‘where’s your fucking napkin?’
‘I say, I love caviar’ said Lord Baslington
‘Wait your turn’ said Zara making him suck some caviar off the end of Cameron. ‘Oh my god this stuff is an absolutely amazing substitute for KY’
‘That was one of my finest jars’ boasted Carinthia ‘All the way from the Volga’
‘And into the vulva’ said Max.
‘Oh Max, you naughty boy’ said Henny. She clearly had the hots for Max. ‘Fancy heading upstairs for a private dance?’
‘Naughty naughty mummy’ smiled Kinvara, boogieing like Uma Thurman in her Chanel tweed suit and her Louboutin black leather peep-toe stilettos on.
‘Please use the master bedroom’ said Carinthia.
Lord Baslington was shafting Zara furiously from behind; there was caviar and Krug all over the shot. I was licking excess mess off her boots as Sarah gave me a blowjob. Barwick was ramming Cameron up Sarah’s bum and Charlotte was wanking Barwick’s cock with the latex vibrating vagina he got as a present. Honor Blackmore was sitting with her booted legs crossed, watching the plasma TV and Sergio Rossi shoes being tried on. Carinthia was singing some arias at the piano. The doorbell sounded.
Nobody answered; everyone was too busy enjoying the full flow of the orgy. The doorbell sounded. Carinthia tottered to the door in her high heels, preening her hair a bit. She opened the door and there was a tall young policeman standing there.
‘Hello. I am sorry to trouble you, but we’ve had a complaint from another resident regarding the music levels coming from your apartment. Do you have a rez music set up?
‘Yes we do, officer, but we have rez insulation fitted’ she said
‘Well, half an hour ago, several ladies at a tea party next door were all having to be consoled after experiencing large amounts of rez.’ said the copper, trying to hide a smirk.
‘Oh dear, I’m awfully sorry. Are they OK?’ Carinthia was standing with weight on one heel.
‘Two ladies got so excited they almost choked on ginger cake’ said the copper.
‘Oh my god’ said Carinthia ‘We’d better turn our rez system down a notch’
‘Yes, I would advise that’ smiled the copper. ‘I don’t want to have to come back. I would also get the insulation checked at some point’
‘Yes, I most certainly will do. So sorry’ Carinthia pivoted on a heel and came back in.
The copper radioed back to base ‘Yes, it’s sorted out. Yeah, she was a right posh sort. You never know what’s going on behind these expensive facades do you. I mean, for all I know, they’re shoving caviar up their vaginas. Ha ha ha. Yeah, I know, I doubt it. It’s a nice thought though.’
‘Who was it’ asked Lord Baslington, still pumping Zara.
‘Oh just a rozzer. Seems our rez music was too high and some ladies next door had some extended clitoral stimulation. They were having a tea party, ha ha ha’ Carinthia was twiddling her hair.
‘Oh my god, really. Oh dear’ smiled Kinvara.
‘Turn it up to twenty, give them a real fucking buzz’ laughed Zara.
‘Yah, I wondered because I noticed the postman was hanging around outside the front door last week and I had the machine turned up quite high. He’d delivered some letters and was there on the step for longer than usual. So, it wasn’t the decorative swags above the door he was interested in, after all. Oh dear, he must have spunked in his pants.’ Carinthia went to check the machine.
‘Don’t turn it too low’ I said ‘I want some background stimulation’
The rez was lower and it was playing various zip sounds, quite sporadically, but rather exciting. Now it was lower I had to take a few more Ultrasex and I snorted more coke off Zara’s leg.
‘Snort it yahhhh snort that naughty white line’ Zara enunciated slowly and perfectly as I perused the details in her Patrick Cox boot, with Sarah licking my helmet like a cat.
‘Sarah puss’ said Charlotte.
‘Miaowww’ said Sarah, wanking and licking my cock.
‘Naughty Sarah puss’ purred Charlotte, going back to snogging Barwick Ford, as I came to a nice orgasm whilst kissing Zara’s boot, spunking like a fountain into Sarah’s mouth.
I decided to go upstairs and I fell asleep in a four poster bed ensconced in heaps of linen. I could still hear the sounds of people having sex as I drifted off and the rez music was very very subtle.
The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again - Part 17
THE GOLDEN CAR
So there was tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, who was once Jemima Cone, but who married Rupert Barnes, the tycoon, who later divorced her when in 2032 she was caught at one of the most notorious fetish parties in London, a spectacular Bacchanalian affair at Lady Leonora Wattleshott’s penthouse at Chelsea Harbour. Jemima supposedly leg-wanked a host of leg lovers into ecstasy in snagged Wolfords that night, including several Lords. I imagine some of the Lords were sporting Wolfords too. Lady Leonora was sporting a see-through fishnet dress and ten thousand pound leather Hermes Birkin bag full of Asprey sex toys. She also wore Chanel quilted leather knee-high boots and a large feathery black hat that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Royal Enclosure at Royal Ascot. Her picture was all over the web. She wore the same outfit for Ascot that year. Her outfit was driving men into insanity. Several people died overdosing on Everlust. One man had such a fierce orgasm; he keeled over off the balcony and smashed himself up on the bonnet of Lord Rabbler’s Aston Martin, while Lord Rabbler was wanking off on the back seat with Venetia Leerbourne-Zeal.
Now Jemima was clinging to the leather penis like a hungry lioness, licking the ridge of the glans, scratching her fingers along the double-stitched seams of leather. Soft Hermes leather. Jemima was completely naked aside from a pair of Chanel brown and cream leather strappy platform wedges, large green sparkly chiffon scarf and her vintage Dior black leather saddle bag. A crowd outside the Duke of Clarence, Old Brompton Road cheered and whistled as the kinky caravan glided by, with Honor’s peaked cap adding refinement, as her Givenchy leather gloved hands steered the golden car as it glided two feet off the road surface. Jibby’s party was mobile! The police would be turning a blind eye to Lord Baslington and Jibby Bream’s exploits. The police balls were always well stocked with champagne due to Lord Baslington’s generous offerings!
‘Oh my god. Darlings, we are all soooo terribly cool!’ sang Skinny Boodle with her long chestnut hair trailing and blowing in the breeze. She was playing with my erect cock and she looked at me and said ‘Not you, you thing from the gutters of London, with your big dirty hard willy, you’re not one of the smart set. The wanking hobo, ha ha. A one cock show. A piece of disgusting conceptual art devised on one of Jibby’s whims.’
Zanna Buxham grabbed her pink leather strap-on dildo with one hand and shifted on the cool cream leather car seat ‘Yah he’s completely common. We’re the smart set, darling, in this new improved elitist London, with all its frivolity and heat and terribly snobby bourgeoisie. We should dump the pikey soon, he’s starting to get a bit whiffy. Ha ha ha ’ She took over from Skinny, wanking me fast and dexterously.
‘Yah, darling’ added Skinny, in between sucking Lord Baslington’s bionic member ‘We should dump him or we’ll all catch beastly hobo fleas. Ha ha ha’
Lord Baslington laughed blessedly loud.
‘I just love the night air, it feels so good on this big cock’ announced Jemima as she rubbed her crotch against the leather cock, as it followed the car.
‘Darlings, I’m sooo having another orgasm’ purred Zara, gripping my cock, guzzling Krug as Lord Baslington rubbed Cameron, the navy blue dildo against her clit. ’Oh my god. I love the Brompton fucking Road.’
‘What do you like?’ grinned Lord Baslington, circling the dildo head around her g-spot.
‘Mmmmmm Mmmmmm mmmmm the Brompton Rrrrrrrroad’ Zara moaned and groaned.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmmm’ agreed Princess Zuleika as I kissed her Balenciaga gladiator boot heels. ‘The Brompton Road is a beautiful boulevard oh it is so exquisite nowadays, with all the tall trees and palm trees and columns and facades’
Buxham chipped in ‘Um…there’s not as much room in this car. Pikey peasant man, come and sit on my knee to make some room before we throw you out into some yobbo suburb’
I was not averse to sitting on Zanna Buxham’s lap, with the pink dildo pressing in my back, buzzing. Her sexy Zuhair Murad shoes with heels higher than high. I wanked off, sitting on her comfy bare knee.
‘Now lick my boots’ ordered Skinny. Skinny’s short little gold dildo dress was sparkling in the evening lights. Her silk Gucci scarf was fluttering in peoples faces. I ran my lips along her John Galliano super elevated black leather knee-high boots with wood heels and zips down the inside and outside. I ran my lips along the zips, as I wanked and wanked, on Buxham’s lap.
‘Yah make my Galliano’s fucking shine, hobo’ Skinny said, sipping on a cocktail she had extracted from the fridge in the back of the Roller.
‘Make her boots shine like a polished helmet’ added Zara. ‘Make them fucking shine like moist lips at a disco in Belgravia, you dirty, filthy, disgusting pleb, ha ha ha’ Zara snorted coke out of Princess Zuleika’s handbag. ‘Mmmmmm leather and Charles! Yum yum’
Buxham added a fact ‘Yah, Zara’s daddy was friends with Prince Hairy! She’s practically the Queen of fucking England’
‘Yah’ agreed Zara with a huge grin, dripping with saliva and spunk from one of Lord Baslington’s fierce ejaculations ‘I’m blue blooded with a big fucking blue leather dildo up my arse, mmmmm mmmmm yah mmmm yahhhh mmmmm’
‘Soooo divine’ purred Jibby, taking photos of the current wave of depravity.
‘Oh darlings’ said Jemima, sitting up on the big leather penis drinking a cocktail ‘You’re all going to be bathing in a car full of manjuice if Bazzer carries on, I shall have to rescue you with the penis lifeboat!’
‘I should hope so too’ babbled Lord Baslington, jerking off and shooting globules like a Gatling gun on Skinny’s boots.
‘We’ll soon all be snogging and fucking in the Baslington Sea!’ Shrieked Zara, watching the Lord ejaculating like an unrestrained buffalo.
‘Oh how extraordinarily chic’ purred Jibby. ‘An archipelago of leather handbags floating on a creamy ocean of sex piss’
‘Yeah, keep wanking Bazzer’ I laughed.
‘Shut up pleb, shut up’ snapped Skinny. ‘He’s Lord Baslington, how dare you speak to him like that’
Honor drove the car out of London and into the sweltering Surrey countryside, with Tamara Wirt in the front, laughing and drinking champagne, feeling Honor’s legs and boots. They stayed a constant temperature.
‘Oh my god, they made you so beautiful’ said Tamara.
‘I know, darling. They did a pretty good job with you too’ winked Honor, in her green leather suit and peaked cap.
‘I hope they don’t throw the pikey out, I think it’s awfully naughty of Zanna Buxham, she’s such a snob’ Tamara said.
‘Tamara, darling’ Buxham overheard ‘Do you like dirty gypo cocks up your vagina then?’
‘I’m told she most certainly does’ added Skinny, fanning herself.
‘Tamara wants your big hobo cock up her’ Buxham purred in my ear, nibbling my earlobes ‘She wants your dirty pikey knob up her disgustingly posh cunt! Don’t you, Tamara darling’
‘Oh you crave it too, Zanna darling, you can’t keep your privileged hands off his willy’ Tamara rebutted.
‘Your privileged hands’ breathed Lord Baslington ‘I like privileged hands on my cock’
Buxham was quiet for a while, giggling, drinking a cocktail and smoking a Havana cigar, with Lord Baslington’s leather top hat on. It was quiet for a time while she jerked off Lord Baslington.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmm! Oh my god. I’ve had sooooo many orgasms’ interrupted Zara, smoking a Davidoff.
‘Darling, how many?’ purred Jibby.
‘Oh at least thitty!’ Zara slurred.
‘Thitty!! That’s super’ said Jibby, smiling.
‘Hurrahh for Zara’ clapped Skinny.
She either meant thirty or fifty I thought, or somewhere in between.
‘Oh my god. I love the tropical country air’ sang Jemima, ‘I’ve always wanted to ride a giant leather willy through the mango trees of Surrey. Gosh it’s so much warmer out of London, simply no cooling machines this far out’
‘Yah, sooo awfully nice to escape the decadence of London’ said Tamara, snorting coke off a diamond-studded gold-framed Asprey mirror.
‘Oh such fucking sensible chatter going on in the front’ snapped Buxham, rubbing her strap-on dildo.
She bit my earlobe ‘Come on let’s fuck like naughty rabbits. The hotter it gets, the hornier I get. Come on you pikey man, fuck me!’
It was a good bunk up, as they used to say in Dagenham. The air was a nice mixture of tropical flora and posh leather and sweet perfume. Buxham moved well, rippling the muscles in her vagina, straddling me with her leather clad back to me, as my hard cock pumped like a piston from behind.
‘Oh yahhhh mmmmmm oh yahhhh mmmmm dirty dirty hobo cock mmmmm yahhhh mmmmmm sooooo big sooooo good’ Buxham was a good talker.
I recalled the sexy picture of her in the Totler from a few years ago. She was sitting on a big red curvaceous leather sofa at her house in The Boltons, sitting cross-legged in black leather knee high boots by Prada and a green Chanel tweed skirt suit and a blue Marc Jacobs Stella bag. I think she had just moved in at The Boltons and I remember tearing that page out of the magazine and wanking furiously over it in a lavatory somewhere.
‘Mmmmmmm pikey cock mmmmmmm big lovely dirty hard cock mmmmmmm’ Buxham moved beautifully.
Skinny rubbed her boot across my face as an added bonus ‘Lick my Galliano boots while Zanna Buxham sits on your cock ha ha ha’
I was on the brink. Then I was more than on the brink.
‘Mmmmmmm you disgusting hobo mmmmmmmmm you are sooooo dis…..guss….ting….mmmmmmm yahhhh mmmmmm’
Then I came while biting the gold zip pull on Skinny’s boot, I came like the clappers.
Then we all heard an old tractor trying to start. I grew very faint as the Surrey woodland started to spin. I fell asleep. People gave up trying to revive me. I was carried from the car and left in a pile of hay, at the roadside near a barn.
‘Let him eat mangos for breakfast’ laughed Skinny swishing her Mulberry Mabel, standing by the car, well over six foot tall in her platform boots.
‘Yah, he’s no good to us unconscious’, said Buxham, sitting in the car, sweating in her leathers and her hair messed up, fiddling with the zip on her D Squared zips bag.
The car carried on up a hill towards the tractor. I started to become conscious again and now I was a in the tractor trying to start it. I felt different, strangely familiar and very fit. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Fuck, I’m Hugo again. It’s been a long time. Camilla Start-Dart and Rah Stockworth sat either side of me on the bench seat.
‘Come on Hugo darling, you’ve been trying to start the fucker for days now, I’m starting to get jungle rot’ frowned Camilla, with her booted legs crossed; those purple leather Westwood boots.
‘Fucking mechanical things’ said Rah, playing with the zip on her left Prada boot resting the heel up on the dashboard shelf ‘Always letting us down’
‘Overheated’ I said as the tractor engine cranked over slowly. I saw a shiny gold car approaching. I recognized some of the posh faces. So did Camilla and Rah.
Rah opened her lovely lips ‘Darling, It’s Lord Baslington’s car. Oh how super convenient’
‘Fantastic’ I said ‘Old Bazzer can give us a ride back into town’
‘Jolly super fucking luck’ Camilla uncrossed her legs and stood by the tractor in her short leopard mini minidress by Lanvin, waving her purple snake Lanvin clutch bag. ‘Rah’ Stockworth jumped up and down in her green Prada crocodile knee high platform boots and Juicy Couture leopard shorts. She grabbed her black leather Mulberry Mabel bag in anticipation of a lift. It was good to see the beauties so animated again.
‘Bloody hell’ said Lord Baslington ‘Hugo Posset. What in gods name are you doing out here in equatorial Surrey?’
‘Oh my god. Hugo darrrrrling’ cried Zara, arms held out wide. ‘We thought you’d been beaten to death by savages from Leatherhead!’
‘Wow, what a consortium’ I said, seeing the display of demure faces in sunglasses and designer bags. Lord Baslington sitting in the middle of it all, with his bionic cock erect.
‘Hello Hugo, mwah mwah’ said Jibby, kissing me on both cheeks.
‘Have you met Zanna Buxham and Skinny Boodle?’ said Zara, putting her hand straight on my big cock. I looked at her very becoming Alaia shoes. I kissed Skinny and Buxham. I had a good look at Buxham’s Zuhair Murad shoes.
‘Well’ said Lord Baslington ‘Miss Camilla and Miss Charlotte, you are naughty kidnapping Hugo. Come on, all aboard the golden fucktrain’
‘Jolly good’ I said ‘Oh and plenty of booze I see, nice one’
Princess Zuleika ran a finger up the zip of her Balenciaga boot ‘Hello Hugo, I’ve heard quite a lot about you and your big willy and little fetishes. Do you want to fuck me in my boots?’
‘Don’t pass up an offer from kinky Zu old boy’ said Lord Baslington ‘You must be full of fucking mango juice’
‘Yes, I am a bit tired of spitting out mango stones’ I grinned snogging Princess and Zuleika and wanking hard. ‘Those gladiator boots are bloody gorgeous’
‘I say, if this isn’t the damn nicest spot. What a good spot you chose to break down you old fucker’ laughed Lord Baslington.
‘Simply Arcadian’ agreed Skinny.
‘Mmmm, deffo’ said Jemima, wrapped in her chiffon scarf, sitting on the penis.
‘Listen, we’re not all going to fit in the car, terribly sorry, some of you will have to get on the big cock with tall and feisty Jemima.’ Said Lord Baslington.
Skinny and Buxham jumped on the cock, with Jemima. They sensed a glare from Lord Baslington, as if to say, get on that big cock you celebrity bitches.
‘Darling, I’m remaining here, with my wanking hobo’ said Jibby Bream vehemently ‘I know it’s crazy, but I can’t leave him alone out here. He put on a jolly good show at the party and I want him to do it again, I may be able to sell the piece. I’ll be OK’
‘Oh my god. Are you bloody mad, Jibby, you can’t sell a pervey hobo’ said Buxham.
Zara interjected, gesticulating with Cameron. ‘She can, she’s Jibby Bream! Seriously, don’t worry about him; he’s a man of the streets. They’re always getting plastered and waking up in skips and urinated alcoves, darling. You’ll find him on the Fulham Road somewhere next week, wanking off under a dirty duvet’
‘Yah, come on Jibby darling, let’s get slaughtered on Krug and have loads of sex’ said Skinny.
‘Come back with us, you’ll get raped out here by spoonbills’ said Jemima.
‘Who is the gypo in question?’ said Charlotte ‘Rah’ Stockworth, already cozy, bare bum on the cream leather back seat, Prada booted legs crossed, next to Hugo who was pounding away at Princess Zuleika.
‘No, I’ll see you all soon. I’m staying here. Have the rest of what’s left in the ostrich Kelly bag my darlings’ Jibby sat down in the grass and looked like a Helmut Newton photo in her Brioni couture leather and fur outfit, amongst the succulent leaves and tropical flowers. There were indeed spoonbills milling about on the fringes of the mango wood. Harmless birds. They kissed her goodbye.
‘Jibby, see you back in civilization soon, I hope’ said Zara.
‘Love your show Jibby, simply astonishing display’ said Tamara, waving her Balenciaga Lariat bag.
Jibby watched the golden car, with its trailing leather penis and waving coterie drift off into the distance. She would wait for Tom Leather to awaken; it could be a long time. He was in a deep sleep. She covered him with a fur wrap and peeled herself a juicy mango with a small platinum fusion knife she bought at Harrods. What a beautiful spot it was.
The car sped down the A3 back into the biosphere of London, everyone feeling the coolness as they entered town, losing the little globules of sweat on their well-bred bodies.
‘I thought you said we were going to a party, darling’ said Tamara to Lord Baslington, who was snogging Camilla Start-Dart.
‘We are’ he said, breaking the kiss ‘my friend just sent me a message on my Blackberry to say that things were hotting up at The Botty in Sloane Square. The good old Botty, always a giggle. It’s wall to wall half-cut city women with Longchamp bags and very high heels. They can be very naughty after a few white wine Spritzers’
‘Oh good, I’ll message Sarah Cavendish-Peel and Charlotte Foggins, they will be pleased to see me, I should imagine’ I said.
‘Naughty Hugo, always two birds in the bush, eh? Ha ha ha’ Lord Baslington rubbed his hand along Camilla’s purple Vivienne Westwood leather thigh boots and Rah Stockworth’s Prada boots, while Camilla played viola on his erect shaft.
Zara crossed her long legs, getting Hugo’s attention ‘Oh yah, I like the Botty, it’s close to my apartment. We can go there and fuck like goats after.’
‘I haven’t been to The Botty in ages. I once let Hugo sit on my knee for most of the night when he was only wearing his pants!’ projected Jemima.
‘Are you sure it wasn’t the Chelsea Brasserie?’ I had a vague memory of it.
Jemima continued ‘Yah, it was the CB, sorry darling; I knew it was one of the two. It was a few weeks after we met at The Ranger that time, in Parsons Green. Hugo was soooo awfully drunk and horny outside the CB, he kept on looking at my black crocodile stilettos by Dolce & Gabbana, jolly high heels they were too with very slim stiletto heels.’
‘Oh those beauties’ sighed Hugo ‘truly hot’
‘I know, darling, so I made you get on the pavement and kiss them, in front of Jeremy Duke, who was sitting at the next table, looking terribly embarrassed.’
‘Oh happy days’ I said, getting a hard on thinking about it ‘and there was another girl with us, very pissed and naughty. Swearing like a trooper, drinking cocktails.’
‘Yah that was Lucy, darling, when she had her hair brunette and shiny! Lucy Possomsby’ smiled Jemima.
‘I love these fetish tales. We should all go and live in a big stiletto shoe in the country’ said Lord Baslington as the car glided along New Kings Road, under an arch of tall palm trees. Princess Zuleika, Camilla and Rah were sleeping. Tamara nodded, smoking a large cigar. Honor took a drag on the cigar with a leather gloved hand. Skinny and Buxham were quietly spaced out gazing at the fashionable denizens of Chelsea.
Zara was checking her make-up ‘Lucy Possomsby, such a posh PR slut’
‘Lucy Possomsby’ I said ‘She was wearing snagged Wolfords, and a short leather skirt and a Chanel tweed jacket. I remember. I sat on Lucy’s knee for a while too, while she rubbed my cock, she put her hand down my pants and rubbed my penis. In front of Jeremy Duke. I never liked him.’
‘Ha ha, he certainly looked at you with disdain’ added Jemima. ‘The way you changed into such a perve over night really haunted him. He took you for such a prudish old Etonian. I don’t think he ever masturbated’
‘Duke! Not a chance, he was into James Smiths umbrellas, he collected old military books from Spottertons, and he had cobwebs for pubic hair!’ I said. There were snorts of laughter. Even Honor was giggling. She’s a sexy one, that chauffeur, Honor. Bloody nice boots.
‘You were on the floor; darling and Lucy kept saying you were looking up her skirt as you played with yourself. Oh it was sooo disgusting. Lucy was wearing a fabulous pair of Chanel courts, with a zip across the vamp and an embossed logo on the toe.’ Jemima carried on.
‘Nice shoes, those, I gave those a jolly good buffing’ I said
‘Yah, Lucy kept dangling and kicking her shoe off and you were playing fetch like a little pug, bringing it back to her in your mouth, soooo sweet!’ Jemima said
‘She was loving that little game’ I said
‘She was in high spirits after her pay increase, darling, and I was celebrating as Quentessentially had given me an awfully good bonus. We both bought Mulberry Roxy bags, in red and in brown. We bought erotic fashion drawings by Jefferson from a show on the Kings Road. Too divine.’ Jemima laughed.
‘Hugo darling, you have such a naughty shoe fetish’ added Zara, putting her Alaia strappy black leather high-heeled shoe on my crotch, rubbing the bulge with the edge of the sole. I was so spoiled, there was a fantastically expensive shoe making me very horny and Zara’s husky voice whispering dirty things in my ear all the way to Sloane Square. Let’s skip The Botty and head straight to her apartment. Look at her sexy leopard print shorts, with the fly open exhibiting her pretty cunt.
I saw her take the dildo from her big Marc Jacobs Stella bag ‘I say, Zara, that’s a phenomenal size’
‘He’s Cameron, darling’ she whispered ‘Bespoke, actually. I’m going to stick him up your arse later, while you lick my shoes. Yah, Quentessentially do pay well’
‘Is she talking about the dildo or the bag?’ said Lord Baslington ‘Can I watch and wank like a dirty teenager?’
‘Definitely the dildo, darling. Let me wank you’ said Buxham coming back into the conversation.
‘Yah, we can do the kinky conga’ laughed Skinny following suit.
‘Hugo, can I snort coke off your cock? I haven’t done yours yet’ asked Tamara.
‘It’s her thing’ smiled Zara. ‘Although, I’m not averse to it’
‘I’d rather you both did it, simultaneously, there’s plenty of room’ I said.
So there was tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, who was once Jemima Cone, but who married Rupert Barnes, the tycoon, who later divorced her when in 2032 she was caught at one of the most notorious fetish parties in London, a spectacular Bacchanalian affair at Lady Leonora Wattleshott’s penthouse at Chelsea Harbour. Jemima supposedly leg-wanked a host of leg lovers into ecstasy in snagged Wolfords that night, including several Lords. I imagine some of the Lords were sporting Wolfords too. Lady Leonora was sporting a see-through fishnet dress and ten thousand pound leather Hermes Birkin bag full of Asprey sex toys. She also wore Chanel quilted leather knee-high boots and a large feathery black hat that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Royal Enclosure at Royal Ascot. Her picture was all over the web. She wore the same outfit for Ascot that year. Her outfit was driving men into insanity. Several people died overdosing on Everlust. One man had such a fierce orgasm; he keeled over off the balcony and smashed himself up on the bonnet of Lord Rabbler’s Aston Martin, while Lord Rabbler was wanking off on the back seat with Venetia Leerbourne-Zeal.
Now Jemima was clinging to the leather penis like a hungry lioness, licking the ridge of the glans, scratching her fingers along the double-stitched seams of leather. Soft Hermes leather. Jemima was completely naked aside from a pair of Chanel brown and cream leather strappy platform wedges, large green sparkly chiffon scarf and her vintage Dior black leather saddle bag. A crowd outside the Duke of Clarence, Old Brompton Road cheered and whistled as the kinky caravan glided by, with Honor’s peaked cap adding refinement, as her Givenchy leather gloved hands steered the golden car as it glided two feet off the road surface. Jibby’s party was mobile! The police would be turning a blind eye to Lord Baslington and Jibby Bream’s exploits. The police balls were always well stocked with champagne due to Lord Baslington’s generous offerings!
‘Oh my god. Darlings, we are all soooo terribly cool!’ sang Skinny Boodle with her long chestnut hair trailing and blowing in the breeze. She was playing with my erect cock and she looked at me and said ‘Not you, you thing from the gutters of London, with your big dirty hard willy, you’re not one of the smart set. The wanking hobo, ha ha. A one cock show. A piece of disgusting conceptual art devised on one of Jibby’s whims.’
Zanna Buxham grabbed her pink leather strap-on dildo with one hand and shifted on the cool cream leather car seat ‘Yah he’s completely common. We’re the smart set, darling, in this new improved elitist London, with all its frivolity and heat and terribly snobby bourgeoisie. We should dump the pikey soon, he’s starting to get a bit whiffy. Ha ha ha ’ She took over from Skinny, wanking me fast and dexterously.
‘Yah, darling’ added Skinny, in between sucking Lord Baslington’s bionic member ‘We should dump him or we’ll all catch beastly hobo fleas. Ha ha ha’
Lord Baslington laughed blessedly loud.
‘I just love the night air, it feels so good on this big cock’ announced Jemima as she rubbed her crotch against the leather cock, as it followed the car.
‘Darlings, I’m sooo having another orgasm’ purred Zara, gripping my cock, guzzling Krug as Lord Baslington rubbed Cameron, the navy blue dildo against her clit. ’Oh my god. I love the Brompton fucking Road.’
‘What do you like?’ grinned Lord Baslington, circling the dildo head around her g-spot.
‘Mmmmmm Mmmmmm mmmmm the Brompton Rrrrrrrroad’ Zara moaned and groaned.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmmm’ agreed Princess Zuleika as I kissed her Balenciaga gladiator boot heels. ‘The Brompton Road is a beautiful boulevard oh it is so exquisite nowadays, with all the tall trees and palm trees and columns and facades’
Buxham chipped in ‘Um…there’s not as much room in this car. Pikey peasant man, come and sit on my knee to make some room before we throw you out into some yobbo suburb’
I was not averse to sitting on Zanna Buxham’s lap, with the pink dildo pressing in my back, buzzing. Her sexy Zuhair Murad shoes with heels higher than high. I wanked off, sitting on her comfy bare knee.
‘Now lick my boots’ ordered Skinny. Skinny’s short little gold dildo dress was sparkling in the evening lights. Her silk Gucci scarf was fluttering in peoples faces. I ran my lips along her John Galliano super elevated black leather knee-high boots with wood heels and zips down the inside and outside. I ran my lips along the zips, as I wanked and wanked, on Buxham’s lap.
‘Yah make my Galliano’s fucking shine, hobo’ Skinny said, sipping on a cocktail she had extracted from the fridge in the back of the Roller.
‘Make her boots shine like a polished helmet’ added Zara. ‘Make them fucking shine like moist lips at a disco in Belgravia, you dirty, filthy, disgusting pleb, ha ha ha’ Zara snorted coke out of Princess Zuleika’s handbag. ‘Mmmmmm leather and Charles! Yum yum’
Buxham added a fact ‘Yah, Zara’s daddy was friends with Prince Hairy! She’s practically the Queen of fucking England’
‘Yah’ agreed Zara with a huge grin, dripping with saliva and spunk from one of Lord Baslington’s fierce ejaculations ‘I’m blue blooded with a big fucking blue leather dildo up my arse, mmmmm mmmmm yah mmmm yahhhh mmmmm’
‘Soooo divine’ purred Jibby, taking photos of the current wave of depravity.
‘Oh darlings’ said Jemima, sitting up on the big leather penis drinking a cocktail ‘You’re all going to be bathing in a car full of manjuice if Bazzer carries on, I shall have to rescue you with the penis lifeboat!’
‘I should hope so too’ babbled Lord Baslington, jerking off and shooting globules like a Gatling gun on Skinny’s boots.
‘We’ll soon all be snogging and fucking in the Baslington Sea!’ Shrieked Zara, watching the Lord ejaculating like an unrestrained buffalo.
‘Oh how extraordinarily chic’ purred Jibby. ‘An archipelago of leather handbags floating on a creamy ocean of sex piss’
‘Yeah, keep wanking Bazzer’ I laughed.
‘Shut up pleb, shut up’ snapped Skinny. ‘He’s Lord Baslington, how dare you speak to him like that’
Honor drove the car out of London and into the sweltering Surrey countryside, with Tamara Wirt in the front, laughing and drinking champagne, feeling Honor’s legs and boots. They stayed a constant temperature.
‘Oh my god, they made you so beautiful’ said Tamara.
‘I know, darling. They did a pretty good job with you too’ winked Honor, in her green leather suit and peaked cap.
‘I hope they don’t throw the pikey out, I think it’s awfully naughty of Zanna Buxham, she’s such a snob’ Tamara said.
‘Tamara, darling’ Buxham overheard ‘Do you like dirty gypo cocks up your vagina then?’
‘I’m told she most certainly does’ added Skinny, fanning herself.
‘Tamara wants your big hobo cock up her’ Buxham purred in my ear, nibbling my earlobes ‘She wants your dirty pikey knob up her disgustingly posh cunt! Don’t you, Tamara darling’
‘Oh you crave it too, Zanna darling, you can’t keep your privileged hands off his willy’ Tamara rebutted.
‘Your privileged hands’ breathed Lord Baslington ‘I like privileged hands on my cock’
Buxham was quiet for a while, giggling, drinking a cocktail and smoking a Havana cigar, with Lord Baslington’s leather top hat on. It was quiet for a time while she jerked off Lord Baslington.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmm! Oh my god. I’ve had sooooo many orgasms’ interrupted Zara, smoking a Davidoff.
‘Darling, how many?’ purred Jibby.
‘Oh at least thitty!’ Zara slurred.
‘Thitty!! That’s super’ said Jibby, smiling.
‘Hurrahh for Zara’ clapped Skinny.
She either meant thirty or fifty I thought, or somewhere in between.
‘Oh my god. I love the tropical country air’ sang Jemima, ‘I’ve always wanted to ride a giant leather willy through the mango trees of Surrey. Gosh it’s so much warmer out of London, simply no cooling machines this far out’
‘Yah, sooo awfully nice to escape the decadence of London’ said Tamara, snorting coke off a diamond-studded gold-framed Asprey mirror.
‘Oh such fucking sensible chatter going on in the front’ snapped Buxham, rubbing her strap-on dildo.
She bit my earlobe ‘Come on let’s fuck like naughty rabbits. The hotter it gets, the hornier I get. Come on you pikey man, fuck me!’
It was a good bunk up, as they used to say in Dagenham. The air was a nice mixture of tropical flora and posh leather and sweet perfume. Buxham moved well, rippling the muscles in her vagina, straddling me with her leather clad back to me, as my hard cock pumped like a piston from behind.
‘Oh yahhhh mmmmmm oh yahhhh mmmmm dirty dirty hobo cock mmmmm yahhhh mmmmmm sooooo big sooooo good’ Buxham was a good talker.
I recalled the sexy picture of her in the Totler from a few years ago. She was sitting on a big red curvaceous leather sofa at her house in The Boltons, sitting cross-legged in black leather knee high boots by Prada and a green Chanel tweed skirt suit and a blue Marc Jacobs Stella bag. I think she had just moved in at The Boltons and I remember tearing that page out of the magazine and wanking furiously over it in a lavatory somewhere.
‘Mmmmmmm pikey cock mmmmmmm big lovely dirty hard cock mmmmmmm’ Buxham moved beautifully.
Skinny rubbed her boot across my face as an added bonus ‘Lick my Galliano boots while Zanna Buxham sits on your cock ha ha ha’
I was on the brink. Then I was more than on the brink.
‘Mmmmmmm you disgusting hobo mmmmmmmmm you are sooooo dis…..guss….ting….mmmmmmm yahhhh mmmmmm’
Then I came while biting the gold zip pull on Skinny’s boot, I came like the clappers.
Then we all heard an old tractor trying to start. I grew very faint as the Surrey woodland started to spin. I fell asleep. People gave up trying to revive me. I was carried from the car and left in a pile of hay, at the roadside near a barn.
‘Let him eat mangos for breakfast’ laughed Skinny swishing her Mulberry Mabel, standing by the car, well over six foot tall in her platform boots.
‘Yah, he’s no good to us unconscious’, said Buxham, sitting in the car, sweating in her leathers and her hair messed up, fiddling with the zip on her D Squared zips bag.
The car carried on up a hill towards the tractor. I started to become conscious again and now I was a in the tractor trying to start it. I felt different, strangely familiar and very fit. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Fuck, I’m Hugo again. It’s been a long time. Camilla Start-Dart and Rah Stockworth sat either side of me on the bench seat.
‘Come on Hugo darling, you’ve been trying to start the fucker for days now, I’m starting to get jungle rot’ frowned Camilla, with her booted legs crossed; those purple leather Westwood boots.
‘Fucking mechanical things’ said Rah, playing with the zip on her left Prada boot resting the heel up on the dashboard shelf ‘Always letting us down’
‘Overheated’ I said as the tractor engine cranked over slowly. I saw a shiny gold car approaching. I recognized some of the posh faces. So did Camilla and Rah.
Rah opened her lovely lips ‘Darling, It’s Lord Baslington’s car. Oh how super convenient’
‘Fantastic’ I said ‘Old Bazzer can give us a ride back into town’
‘Jolly super fucking luck’ Camilla uncrossed her legs and stood by the tractor in her short leopard mini minidress by Lanvin, waving her purple snake Lanvin clutch bag. ‘Rah’ Stockworth jumped up and down in her green Prada crocodile knee high platform boots and Juicy Couture leopard shorts. She grabbed her black leather Mulberry Mabel bag in anticipation of a lift. It was good to see the beauties so animated again.
‘Bloody hell’ said Lord Baslington ‘Hugo Posset. What in gods name are you doing out here in equatorial Surrey?’
‘Oh my god. Hugo darrrrrling’ cried Zara, arms held out wide. ‘We thought you’d been beaten to death by savages from Leatherhead!’
‘Wow, what a consortium’ I said, seeing the display of demure faces in sunglasses and designer bags. Lord Baslington sitting in the middle of it all, with his bionic cock erect.
‘Hello Hugo, mwah mwah’ said Jibby, kissing me on both cheeks.
‘Have you met Zanna Buxham and Skinny Boodle?’ said Zara, putting her hand straight on my big cock. I looked at her very becoming Alaia shoes. I kissed Skinny and Buxham. I had a good look at Buxham’s Zuhair Murad shoes.
‘Well’ said Lord Baslington ‘Miss Camilla and Miss Charlotte, you are naughty kidnapping Hugo. Come on, all aboard the golden fucktrain’
‘Jolly good’ I said ‘Oh and plenty of booze I see, nice one’
Princess Zuleika ran a finger up the zip of her Balenciaga boot ‘Hello Hugo, I’ve heard quite a lot about you and your big willy and little fetishes. Do you want to fuck me in my boots?’
‘Don’t pass up an offer from kinky Zu old boy’ said Lord Baslington ‘You must be full of fucking mango juice’
‘Yes, I am a bit tired of spitting out mango stones’ I grinned snogging Princess and Zuleika and wanking hard. ‘Those gladiator boots are bloody gorgeous’
‘I say, if this isn’t the damn nicest spot. What a good spot you chose to break down you old fucker’ laughed Lord Baslington.
‘Simply Arcadian’ agreed Skinny.
‘Mmmm, deffo’ said Jemima, wrapped in her chiffon scarf, sitting on the penis.
‘Listen, we’re not all going to fit in the car, terribly sorry, some of you will have to get on the big cock with tall and feisty Jemima.’ Said Lord Baslington.
Skinny and Buxham jumped on the cock, with Jemima. They sensed a glare from Lord Baslington, as if to say, get on that big cock you celebrity bitches.
‘Darling, I’m remaining here, with my wanking hobo’ said Jibby Bream vehemently ‘I know it’s crazy, but I can’t leave him alone out here. He put on a jolly good show at the party and I want him to do it again, I may be able to sell the piece. I’ll be OK’
‘Oh my god. Are you bloody mad, Jibby, you can’t sell a pervey hobo’ said Buxham.
Zara interjected, gesticulating with Cameron. ‘She can, she’s Jibby Bream! Seriously, don’t worry about him; he’s a man of the streets. They’re always getting plastered and waking up in skips and urinated alcoves, darling. You’ll find him on the Fulham Road somewhere next week, wanking off under a dirty duvet’
‘Yah, come on Jibby darling, let’s get slaughtered on Krug and have loads of sex’ said Skinny.
‘Come back with us, you’ll get raped out here by spoonbills’ said Jemima.
‘Who is the gypo in question?’ said Charlotte ‘Rah’ Stockworth, already cozy, bare bum on the cream leather back seat, Prada booted legs crossed, next to Hugo who was pounding away at Princess Zuleika.
‘No, I’ll see you all soon. I’m staying here. Have the rest of what’s left in the ostrich Kelly bag my darlings’ Jibby sat down in the grass and looked like a Helmut Newton photo in her Brioni couture leather and fur outfit, amongst the succulent leaves and tropical flowers. There were indeed spoonbills milling about on the fringes of the mango wood. Harmless birds. They kissed her goodbye.
‘Jibby, see you back in civilization soon, I hope’ said Zara.
‘Love your show Jibby, simply astonishing display’ said Tamara, waving her Balenciaga Lariat bag.
Jibby watched the golden car, with its trailing leather penis and waving coterie drift off into the distance. She would wait for Tom Leather to awaken; it could be a long time. He was in a deep sleep. She covered him with a fur wrap and peeled herself a juicy mango with a small platinum fusion knife she bought at Harrods. What a beautiful spot it was.
The car sped down the A3 back into the biosphere of London, everyone feeling the coolness as they entered town, losing the little globules of sweat on their well-bred bodies.
‘I thought you said we were going to a party, darling’ said Tamara to Lord Baslington, who was snogging Camilla Start-Dart.
‘We are’ he said, breaking the kiss ‘my friend just sent me a message on my Blackberry to say that things were hotting up at The Botty in Sloane Square. The good old Botty, always a giggle. It’s wall to wall half-cut city women with Longchamp bags and very high heels. They can be very naughty after a few white wine Spritzers’
‘Oh good, I’ll message Sarah Cavendish-Peel and Charlotte Foggins, they will be pleased to see me, I should imagine’ I said.
‘Naughty Hugo, always two birds in the bush, eh? Ha ha ha’ Lord Baslington rubbed his hand along Camilla’s purple Vivienne Westwood leather thigh boots and Rah Stockworth’s Prada boots, while Camilla played viola on his erect shaft.
Zara crossed her long legs, getting Hugo’s attention ‘Oh yah, I like the Botty, it’s close to my apartment. We can go there and fuck like goats after.’
‘I haven’t been to The Botty in ages. I once let Hugo sit on my knee for most of the night when he was only wearing his pants!’ projected Jemima.
‘Are you sure it wasn’t the Chelsea Brasserie?’ I had a vague memory of it.
Jemima continued ‘Yah, it was the CB, sorry darling; I knew it was one of the two. It was a few weeks after we met at The Ranger that time, in Parsons Green. Hugo was soooo awfully drunk and horny outside the CB, he kept on looking at my black crocodile stilettos by Dolce & Gabbana, jolly high heels they were too with very slim stiletto heels.’
‘Oh those beauties’ sighed Hugo ‘truly hot’
‘I know, darling, so I made you get on the pavement and kiss them, in front of Jeremy Duke, who was sitting at the next table, looking terribly embarrassed.’
‘Oh happy days’ I said, getting a hard on thinking about it ‘and there was another girl with us, very pissed and naughty. Swearing like a trooper, drinking cocktails.’
‘Yah that was Lucy, darling, when she had her hair brunette and shiny! Lucy Possomsby’ smiled Jemima.
‘I love these fetish tales. We should all go and live in a big stiletto shoe in the country’ said Lord Baslington as the car glided along New Kings Road, under an arch of tall palm trees. Princess Zuleika, Camilla and Rah were sleeping. Tamara nodded, smoking a large cigar. Honor took a drag on the cigar with a leather gloved hand. Skinny and Buxham were quietly spaced out gazing at the fashionable denizens of Chelsea.
Zara was checking her make-up ‘Lucy Possomsby, such a posh PR slut’
‘Lucy Possomsby’ I said ‘She was wearing snagged Wolfords, and a short leather skirt and a Chanel tweed jacket. I remember. I sat on Lucy’s knee for a while too, while she rubbed my cock, she put her hand down my pants and rubbed my penis. In front of Jeremy Duke. I never liked him.’
‘Ha ha, he certainly looked at you with disdain’ added Jemima. ‘The way you changed into such a perve over night really haunted him. He took you for such a prudish old Etonian. I don’t think he ever masturbated’
‘Duke! Not a chance, he was into James Smiths umbrellas, he collected old military books from Spottertons, and he had cobwebs for pubic hair!’ I said. There were snorts of laughter. Even Honor was giggling. She’s a sexy one, that chauffeur, Honor. Bloody nice boots.
‘You were on the floor; darling and Lucy kept saying you were looking up her skirt as you played with yourself. Oh it was sooo disgusting. Lucy was wearing a fabulous pair of Chanel courts, with a zip across the vamp and an embossed logo on the toe.’ Jemima carried on.
‘Nice shoes, those, I gave those a jolly good buffing’ I said
‘Yah, Lucy kept dangling and kicking her shoe off and you were playing fetch like a little pug, bringing it back to her in your mouth, soooo sweet!’ Jemima said
‘She was loving that little game’ I said
‘She was in high spirits after her pay increase, darling, and I was celebrating as Quentessentially had given me an awfully good bonus. We both bought Mulberry Roxy bags, in red and in brown. We bought erotic fashion drawings by Jefferson from a show on the Kings Road. Too divine.’ Jemima laughed.
‘Hugo darling, you have such a naughty shoe fetish’ added Zara, putting her Alaia strappy black leather high-heeled shoe on my crotch, rubbing the bulge with the edge of the sole. I was so spoiled, there was a fantastically expensive shoe making me very horny and Zara’s husky voice whispering dirty things in my ear all the way to Sloane Square. Let’s skip The Botty and head straight to her apartment. Look at her sexy leopard print shorts, with the fly open exhibiting her pretty cunt.
I saw her take the dildo from her big Marc Jacobs Stella bag ‘I say, Zara, that’s a phenomenal size’
‘He’s Cameron, darling’ she whispered ‘Bespoke, actually. I’m going to stick him up your arse later, while you lick my shoes. Yah, Quentessentially do pay well’
‘Is she talking about the dildo or the bag?’ said Lord Baslington ‘Can I watch and wank like a dirty teenager?’
‘Definitely the dildo, darling. Let me wank you’ said Buxham coming back into the conversation.
‘Yah, we can do the kinky conga’ laughed Skinny following suit.
‘Hugo, can I snort coke off your cock? I haven’t done yours yet’ asked Tamara.
‘It’s her thing’ smiled Zara. ‘Although, I’m not averse to it’
‘I’d rather you both did it, simultaneously, there’s plenty of room’ I said.
Wednesday 27 May 2009
The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again part 16
JIBBY BREAM GALLERY
I was thrown into the back of a van in the middle of the night quite abruptly by someone dressed as Catwoman and I woke up on a green leather sofa in a very smart office the next morning.
A door opened and in walked Jibby Bream, wearing a leather and fur ensemble all by Brioni, big Prada sunglasses on her head, a Walter Steiger leopard and brown leather beauty bag with a gold zip around the circumference, fishnets, and super elevated brown croc studded strappy stilettos by Donna Karan. Rapture!
‘Darling, I need you for an exhibit. You are the one’ said plummy Jibby. All Sloanes are plummy, get used to it. I nodded, lying on the sofa totally naked. I had been emancipated of all garments.
‘Darrrling, I’m going to turn you into a piece of conceptual art. It’s a piece entitled “The Wanking Hobo” and it forms part of a larger permanent exhibition called ‘Sooooo Kinky’. So, darling, you’re going to be a work of art’ I looked at her shoes, of course I did, and my cock grew without the magic beans.
‘OK, Jibby’ I said. Everyone knows Jibby. Nobody fucks with her. She shoots hobos in the night.
‘Super fucking brilliant, darling’ she smiled. ‘Now come this way’
I followed her into the swanky main gallery and wow, what a scene. There was a large installation of video screens showing a woman repeatedly zipping up her knee high boot. The phonetics was amazing. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip. In one corner was a gold dildo, as tall as a monument, poking up into the domed ceiling. Along another wing was a large leather penis on wheels, sporadically ejaculating Kelly Caleche cream perfume into a pot. There was a huge hologram of Penny Keats’ coiffured head with pearls repeating comments such as ‘Jerry, you naughty naughty boy’ and ‘Oh I say Tom, it’s a mini Matterhorn!’ There was a large baroque painting entitled ‘Two Dildos at Royal Ascot’ accompanied by a group of fashion models from Society Agency including Lily Bottomleigh all wearing Philip Treacy hats, enjoying Pimms and looking through croc leather binoculars. How awfully chic they were. There was a video of Skinny and Buxham, quite drunk; trying to ram their Prada stilettos up a chav’s bum in the lobby of a grand hotel. There were some photos of men jumping rooftops in designer boots. There were vintage Guy Bourdin prints and amorous sketches by caricaturists. There were many videos and holograms of tongues and lips licking and kissing shoes and handbags and very posh leather gloves wanking large penises in classical country house gardens.
‘Tonight is the opening party, darling. There’s your space’ said Jibby, smoking a cigarette in a croc leather holder pointing at some cardboard on the floor with a sign that read ‘The Wanking Hobo’ I sat down on the cardboard. It was warm.
‘Now start wanking and don’t stop until the party is over and all the guests have gone’ insisted Jibby, taking a puff on her cigarette holder. I looked at her Donna Karan shoes. It was easy to stay hard looking at those. On top of that Jibby had left an assortment of sex drugs in a small pink ostrich leather Hermes Kelly bag.
‘That’s it, darling, lots of wanking. There are going to be some very important people here this evening, so be very very naughty! People will be saying very naughty things to you.’ She walked off in her Brioni outfit.
‘I could fuck you’ I said.
‘Keep wanking’ she shouted from the other side of the gallery.
I wondered who would be turning up. I was getting quite excited. I took various sex pills, some of which I had no idea of the consequences. I might die here tonight, in the throes of sexual ecstasy. It had happened to a friend. He took a new pill called Everlust. He spent a day coming, like someone who can’t stop being sick due to sea sickness, well this was similar, only instead of vomiting, he was climaxing. He was at Royal Ascot and he died at the pub afterwards of a stroke. Everlust, a very tricky customer indeed. I made myself comfortable on the cardboard bed and masturbated for a bit. When Jibby was out of sight, I watched Penny Keats’ say some things.
At about seven thirty in the evening a few guests arrived. I recognized them straight away. It was Skinny and Buxham. Skinny was wearing a short dress made entirely of little gold dildos by Hussein Chalayan, a silk trailing scarf by Gucci, and a pair of John Galliano super elevated black leather knee-high boots with wood heels and zips down the inside and outside. She was sporting an orange leather zip-detail glove-clutch by Alexander McQueen. She looked ravishing. Buxham was wearing figure hugging leather down one side of her torso and was completely naked elsewhere, aside from a delicious pink leather covered strap-on penis, with studs. Izzy would be proud. She wore strappy black croc platform stilettos by Zuhair Murad, oh yes those ones, and carried a very large D Squared black croc leather zip bag with gold zips.
‘Oh it’s a pikey’ said Buxham, swinging her bag in my direction ‘Let’s go and piss on him’
‘Later, darling. There are other things to see’ said Skinny, pivoting on a boot heel.
‘Naughty lovely things to see. Jibby’s an absolute wiz’ Skinny continued.
‘I’ll be pissing on you later, you fucker’ smiled Buxham. I’m not even sure they recognized me from the events at Brompton Cross. Maybe they want their Porsche seats cleaning? I started wanking. Jibby was double kissing Skinny and Buxham; congratulating them on their latest TV show ‘How Your Shoes Can Make You Completely Fuckable’. A screen flashed on at the back which showed a close up two fine horses fucking on a glorious hillside in the Cotswolds. Grunting and all. It tied in with the Ascot section.
Then Sarah Cavendish-Peel entered from a Bentley limo. Oh she was divine. My willy went into double takes. Antonio oh Antonio. God I wished I was Hugo again. Maybe Hugo will turn up. What a moment it would be. The first time the two bodies used by the same mysterious person will have been in the same room. It could be very interesting. Sarah CP was wearing a Chalayan zebra print fur top which barely came down to her waist. She proudly exhibited her neatly trimmed pussy. She strutted across the marble floor of the gallery in high heeled black leather thigh boots, with leather garter straps at the top, also by Chalayan. She carried an YSL Downtown bag, with a zebra silk scarf wrapped around the handle. I lay on the floor watching her exchange kisses with Jibby. Jibby could not stop feeling her leather boots. The Krug was starting to flow.
‘Darling, where’s Hugo?’ Asked Jibby with her trademark cigarette holder.
‘Oh he went orf into Surrey with some tarts and hasn’t been back for days’ Sarah said fluttering her big eyelashes like Cleopatra.
‘He’s insatiable, he would have loved my show’ said Jibby.
‘Maybe’ said Sarah ‘although he can be strangely moody about kinky sex. He suddenly became a shoe fetishist, you know. For absolutely years he exhibited no interest in my huge collection of designer shoes and one morning he insisted on kissing a pair of Gucci platforms I had just bought on Sloane Street’
‘Was he just experimenting, darling. He may have been trying to spice things up a bit’
Sarah shook her long mane of blonde hair ‘No, it was the full-blown thing. He really had a passion for those Gucci shoes. Just as suddenly his fetish for shoes went away, which was weird, and then it came back at my leopard and leather party with a vengeance. Which is just as well, I’d spent an awful lot of money on new Moschino boots.’
‘Absolutely darling’ purred Jibby ‘and you’ve come dressed to kill this evening. Those thigh high boots are sooo divine. I think the wanking hobo will appreciate them. He has fetishes for ladies shoes.’
‘Oh yah, you mentioned it briefly, the wanking hobo, is that him over there?’ Sarah pointed in my direction. They both strutted over, with champagne flutes.
‘Oh he’s rather sweet’ said Sarah ‘Terribly common, but sweet. Early twenties I would say’ I had a worm’s eye view of the gorgeous Sloaney Sarah, as I leered at the grainy leather shine of her Chalayan boots, leading the way to her vagina on show for all to see. I wanked like there was no tomorrow.
‘Darling hobo’ Jibby said to me ‘Now that’s brilliant. A fine rhythm you’ve got going. Exquisite in fact’
‘Oh yah’ brayed Sarah, swinging the lovely YSL bag ‘Jolly exquisite, Hugo would be proud’.
‘It’s perfectly disgusting’ said Skinny, who had come over to join the chat. And lots of chat there was, about this and that. I kept tossing the caber, on the floor, at times almost coming into contact with a heel.
‘Now kiss my boots!’ Demanded Sarah, in a firm RP voice. ‘Lick my expensive heels you disgusting peasant’. This was good. Very ritualistic.
‘Yahh, lick her fucking heels’ added Skinny
‘And keep wanking while you do, darling’ insisted Jibby
‘Don’t ever stop kissing my boots’ affirmed Sarah, swigging her champagne and swinging that YSL bag, zips glinting in the gallery lights. I loved to see a good designer leather handbag moving to good effect, with all the embellishments twinkling. I’ve often been in Yves Saint Laurent on Sloane Street and the Downtown bag had often caught my attention. I had seen many models parading up and down Kings Road carrying one.
The sound of that John Galliano zipping boot was perpetually in the background. Sarah’s friend Charlotte Foggins entered wearing a classic green Chanel tweed skirt suit, the skirt being exceptionally short, flower patterned Wolfords, a brown leather Lancel bag and Prada platform heels, two-tone green and black leather. Her Versace silk scarf had fancy pictures of large erect willies and elegant ladies’ hands printed on it.
More guests arrived. The magnificent seven from Quentessentially.com entered the gallery, stiletto heels click-clicking across the polished marble. They were all wearing ravishing outfits and carrying large leather designer bags, naturally, lead by Zara Parker-Pumpkinson with large green leather Marc Jacobs Stella bag and her husky posh accent. There was the ever cheerful Venetia Leerbourn-Zeal, the oh so posh Georgia Barton-Batting, sweet sexy Lucy Possomsby, tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, Izzy Buckworth-Chard who was at the Serpentine event, and the awfully softly spoken Olivia Cheltenham.
Lady Trammerton entered with two pugs, wearing an Alexander McQueen red and black skirt suit and a large hat made of shiny ribbed red leather, with a zip around the circumference. She wore classic black leather Manolo Blahnik court shoes with gold studs on the heel and carried a gorgeous red crocodile Prada bag with a zip along the side. Her gloves were black leather, by Mulberry and had two zips at the sides. Naughty Lady Trammerton. She carried an exquisite walking cane and strutted over to the group of ladies surrounding me. I could see up her skirt and she was wearing a butterfly vibrator. She rested the gold tip of her cane on my chin and it suddenly started vibrating. She moved the tip down my chest to my cock and held it on my helmet. It was very stimulating.
‘A hobo’s big cock!’ announced Lady Trammerton.
The group of women burst out laughing, pivoting on high heels and swigging champagne.
‘It’s a good size, darling’ added Venetia
Venetia was wearing an orange flowery see through minidress and orange leather knee high boots by Jimmy Choo with a black leather Jimmy Choo Mahala bag and a quirky black hat saying ‘Zeal’ in a curve over her head. One day Hugo will be having his wicked way with Venetia. That word ‘Zeal’ will be bobbing up and down.
‘He seems to enjoy kissing ones boots’ nodded Sarah.
‘Super’ said Venetia ‘Kiss my Jimmy Choos you dirty pikey’
‘Oh inspired, darling, truly inspired’ sang Jibby moving nicely in her Brioni leather and fur ensemble dress.
‘I’m almost tempted to sit on his face and piss on him’ laughed Buxham, who had an irresistible urge to do so, and by the end of the evening I imagine she will succumb, after lots of booze.
‘Oh you simply must’ added Olivia playing with the zips on her Gucci zips bag.
Olivia was wearing a fishnet top showing her tits, a blue fur choker, a large black feathery Philip Treacy creation for a hat, leather gloves in purple by Prada, a dark brown mini skirt by Hermes with matching belt, and black leather strappy sandals by Giuseppe Zanotti with a back heel zip.
‘You simply must sit on his face while I suck his cock, ha ha’ Olivia whispered. The quiet ones are always the naughtiest, they say.
‘Oh Olivia, darling, you naughty thing’ said Lucy, sitting on a nearby leather chaise longue, with a large gold penis along the top of it. I was wanking hard, as Lady Trammerton had withdrawn her cane and was stimulating Zara’s clit, who was now on the chaise longue with her legs akimbo. Zara’s leopard print shorts were unzipped and Lady Trammerton’s cane was in there. I looked at Zara’s pleasured face and her feet wriggling in Azzedine Alaia dark green leather strappy platforms. Posh feet in posh shoes and posh moans from Zara’s posh face. I almost came, but I held back. Zara did not recognize me at all from an earlier encounter.
Jibby took some photos of Lady Trammerton’s cane penetrating Zara. Dirty Jibby. A group of naked male models got out of a limo and entered and were automatically greeted by various women. More guests were arriving, including Barwick Ford and Zita Zippa, in her usual black leather Givenchy number and sky high shoes. I saw Henrietta Beauchamp-Slutto in ripped jodhpurs and thigh high Prada boots and a plastic see-through top with studs on it. Very avant garde for Henrietta. Kinky riding chic! She wore a leather riding hat and carried a whip. She whipped a few male models across their bums, as they drank Krug. One of Lady Trammerton’s pugs was fucking a Hermes Birkin bag; it must have been related to Charleston, Liza Blow’s dirty dog. The pug was clearly in a state of rapture as it pushed the bag into my bum. I could feel the soft cold leather, as the pug fucked at it like it was the sexiest lady pug in the world.
The party was a full on orgy by midnight, with lots of action abounding all around, as I wanked away, having come a few times already. I had a very nice orgasm while watching Zara being prodded by Lady Trammerton with Lady Trammerton saying ‘That’s it Zara old girl, work those hips. Zara also administered a large navy blue leather dildo of her own while Lady Trammerton continued to play clitty with the cane tip. Zara made me lick the juice off her dildo.
‘Lick my leather dildo clean you fucking gypo!’ Laughed Zara, crouching down, with her leopard shorts unzipped at the front and her Alaia shoes stained from come and champagne.
‘Uhhhhhhh uuhhhhh’ I came everywhere, all over the cardboard. Olivia, Jibby, Sarah and Skinny applauded. Jibby pushed the Kelly bag of pills closer to me, urging me to take more sex drugs. I indulged in several pills. I continued wanking my excited member. More high profile guests were arriving from both celebrity and aristocratic circles. I saw Princess Zuleika of Aromia and Ed Bunt-Batt going at it on the big pumping leather penis, Zuleika’s hair falling back into the basin of Kelly Caleche cream perfume, as Ed pounded away gritting his teeth. Princess Zuleika was wearing two leather starfish by Versace, one covering her boobs and one on her head as a hat; she wore strappy high heeled gladiator boots by Balenciaga with zips up the front. She kicked those booted legs high as Ed pumped away. I saw a male model sitting on the crossed-leg of one of the Ascot models, wanking furiously. A bit of naughty knee-sitting. She was elegantly sipping Pimms, so very Beatonesque in her broad black and white feathery hat.
Skinny and Buxham were still standing above me chatting about stuff. Barwick and Henrietta were snogging passionately against the front glass window. The place was alive with sex. No sign of Hugo Posset.
I saw Georgia Barton-Batting sit on the chaise longue and cross her long legs. I ached to get up and sit on her lovely knee, all I could do was imagine and wank and wank. She saw that my attention was on her. She was beautiful in her Lanvin navy blue silk bow mini dress and black patent leather knee high boots with gold inside zips by Sergio Rossi and a long red crocodile clutch bag by Salvatore Ferragamo with two gold zips on both sides. She got up and came strutting over, stiletto boots click-clicking. She put her left booted foot up against my lips.
‘Now kiss the patent leather, pikey!’ Georgia’s accent was old money posh and husky. I wanked fast. I kissed the smooth patent leather. I could see reflections of people fucking in them. She drank from the bottle, a large bottle of Krug and she was smoking.
‘Sooo, you were on the streets of Chelsea? How terribly chic’ she said, as I kissed the round zip pull near her knee. She giggled, spilt some Krug. Jibby was taking photos of me kissing her zip pull. Buxham was eating from a tray of expensive cakes and chocolates, laced with drugs.
A few gatecrashers managed to get in, namely a guy whose old van had broke down outside and a woman with only one leg with a scrawny mongrel dog.
I looked up Georgia’s dress and saw her lovely pussy, slightly wet. Her eyes were firmly on my big cock as I wanked. Then she straddled my loins and I watched her smooth bum come down on my cock. We fucked and fucked.
‘Um, sorry Georgia darling, it’s supposed to be “The Wanking Hobo” not the “The Hobo Fucking Posh PR Girl” Jibby was cross.
‘Awfully sorry Jibby’ said Georgia, straightening up her dress and twiddling her disheveled blonde hair. ‘I was sooo wanting to fuck the pikey, so sorry darling’. She stood there in her boots checking her make up and drinking more booze, from trays passing by.
‘Unlucky Georgia darling’ said Venetia.
‘Jibby’s always watching’ winked Lucy, fingering a long snag in her Wolfords, cross-legged on the chaise longue.
‘Yah, she only allows him to wank’ said Jemima giggling, playing with her hair as all ex-public school girls do. She was at Marlborough.
‘They say he was sleeping rough on Fulham Road’ added Olivia ‘I didn’t think that sort of thing was allowed in Chelsea since Lamley got in.’
‘I don’t think the police care about smelly hobos that much’ said Lucy. ‘Oh my god, Georgia, his cock’s been up you!’
‘Yah, and it was terribly good’ moaned Georgia, crossing her booted legs on the chaise longue.
Zara overheard ‘Here, Georgia darling, finish yourself off with my big blue leather dildo. I’ve called it Cameron! Ha ha’. There was snorts and laughter. Georgia uncrossed her legs.
‘Yah, go at it with Cameron, darling’ urged Jibby, smoking a Sobranie twirling the cigarette holder rakishly. Nearby, a male model was being ordered by Buxham and Skinny to sit on a champagne bottle. Buxham clapped, as her strap-on leather penis bobbed up and down. Skinny was making him kiss her Alexander McQueen clutch bag. Dirty bitches. They loved men doing things to their bottoms for some reason. The one legged woman was admiring the Guy Bourdin prints. Her mongrel dog was eating an éclair on the floor, laced with Everlust. Most of the cakes were having an effect on the guests.
It was approaching one o’clock in the morning and a gold Rolls Royce convertible was waved into the gallery via the large sliding side door. The chauffeur; she was a spitting image of Honor Blackman in green leather skirt suit and matching peaked cap and knee high stiletto boots by Christian Louboutin. She even spoke like Honor Blackman, but it was a simulacrum. A sensational simulacrum. She opened the door for Lord Baslington, who was wearing a purple studded top hat and and thong with studs down the front. The Honor Blackman simulacrum produced a black leather Juicy Couture Jezebel clutch bag with double zips down the side of it and proceeded to rub the zips up and down the bulging front of Lord Baslington’s studded thong causing quite intense vibrations. Jibby moved in with her camera, smiling and crouching.
Jibby snapped away ‘Oh darling, darling, darrrrrling! Gorgeous Lord Bazzer! I love the chauffeur; she looks exactly like Honor Blackman. What a super simulacra. Oh those darling scientists are terribly clever these days.’
‘Indeed they are Jibby’ breathed Lord Baslington, trying not to climax, despite the zippy pleasures of the Jezebel playing violin on his crotch ‘I paid a few billion for her, she’s a bloody good chauffeur too and she’s awfully adept at securing theatre tickets at the Royal Court’
‘He loves the Royal Court’ said the simulacrum Honor.
‘Oh you are a fabulous thing, darling’ brayed Jibby ‘in fabulous Louboutin’
‘She goes like a fucking rocket, never ever tires, never never’ said Lord Baslington. ‘Just as well, as I have an enhanced robotic cock, developed by Masters and Jones. Oh they say I’m mad, but fuck me, I care not a jot’.
‘Jolly super’ said Jibby, watching Honor continually rub Lord Baslington’s bulge, which he clearly liked a lot. I was watching and wanking over the scene. It was decadence beyond compare. Guests gravitated to the gold Rolls Royce. There was some conversation with Lord Baslington, who laughed and snorted as the seats of his Rolls Royce were commandeered for furious kinky sex with an array of sex toys, some of which came as part of the car’s deluxe special equipment. I imagine, they too, were under warranty. I saw Skinny and Buxham get on the back seat with the man whose van broke down, who happened to be a large strapping chap who rowed for Oxford who Jibby certainly approved of. There would be no trash hitting this party, aside from me, the wanking hobo. I wasn’t tiring, I was as hard as ever, but I was not coming for ages, really restraining my urge to climax. I saw Buxham fucking the van driver with her strap-on.
Lord Baslington came over and pissed on my leg. He laughed and walked off to get a drink. Then he came back over with a full bottle of Krug in one hand. ‘Stand up you gypsy, stand up and wank like a man, don’t be lying down there with no dignity! Have some pride’
‘Ha ha ha, oh Lord Baslington’ said Lady Trammerton ‘you must be having a ball with your new bionic member.’
‘Yahh, deffo, Trammers. Once that fucking shark in the Thames had severed it orf, I had to get a new one. Luckily the shark spat it out, which was jolly sporting of the fellow. No hard feelings for the shark.’ Lord Baslington was a madman, through and through.
‘Super darling’ smiled Lady Trammerton, switching on her cane.
‘Quite, the surgeons at Masters and Jones are wizards with new cock technology; I get better bloody orgasms now than I did when I was a teen! Ha ha ha’ Lord Baslington ripped off his thong and his techno-lance stood erect like a butternut squash. There were gasps of approval from guests. Lady Trammerton ran her vibrating cane up and down his shaft as they chatted about gardens.
I decided to try on Lord Baslington’s thong. The Lord noticed and summoned Honor over and told her to give me the ‘zip clutch on the crotch’ treatment. I came within five minutes, the zipping sensation was too great and the smell of Honor’s leathers and her husky voice was all too much. I shot my load.
‘Hah ha ha hahh’ bellowed Lord Baslington. ‘Again! Old chap. Again’
Honor went at my bulge again; I was hard as ever, this time I managed to last longer.
‘I bet you come first’ I said.
Lady Trammerton winked at me and concentrated the powerful vibrating tip of her cane on Lord Baslington’s throbbing helmet. I could see he was gritting his teeth in unbridled pleasure, be was on the super brink. I watched him moan and shoot his spunk all over Lady Trammerton’s red ribbed leather hat turning it into a fly agaric.
Jibby clapped and cheered on the chaise longue with Sarah Cavendish-Peel and Charlotte Foggins. Most of the Quentessential girls were cheering. Henrietta Beauchamp Chatto looked on, with Barwick still pumping her from behind. Princess Zuleika and Ed Bunt-Batt were still riding the big leather cock of love, trying unique positions. Lady Trammerton’s pug was busy shagging a Balenciaga Lariat bag that belonged to Tamara Wirt, another model. She was busy snorting Charles off Lord Baslington’s modified penis. Tamara had a fetish about snorting coke off willies. She was often reminded of it by her friends at posh restaurants. Once she pulled a horny waiter’s pants down in Maziti and snorted the white stuff off his penis. She was expelled from Lady Frances Bowland’s College for snorting coke off a model’s penis during an art lesson. She was here tonight, doing exactly that, to as many willies as she could find. Sometimes she substituted coke with the icing sugar on cakes, as she was getting close to overdosing. I took a few Ultrasex pills and laid down on the cardboard, watching spunk and champagne bespattered designer shoes and boots perform their magic. By four o’clock in the morning, the floor was getting uncomfortable, so I laid on my front for a while, fucking the soft leather Balenciaga Lariat bag that belonged to Tamara. It was strangely vaginal. Tamara sat on the chaise longue, in a ripped T-shirt, a very short red leather skirt and black YSL covered platform shoes. Her big hair was a flurry. She sat there, spaced out, rubbing her clit, watching me fuck her Balenciaga bag.
‘My bag is sooo hot’ she slurred and giggled.
‘Oh it is’ I panted, looking up her skirt.
‘My bag has been fucked by a pug, darling. You’re having it after a dog has spunked on it. Oh well, you are a pikey’
I was double hard again, excited by her coked up posh accent and YSL high heels. I sat down and wanked, watching her play with her pussy. Zara Parker-Pumpkinson joined her on the chaise longue and stuck a long tongue into her ear. Tamara giggled with a big toothy grin.
‘Tamara darling, have you met Cameron?’ Zara produced the goods from her stained Stella bag. Tamara licked the dildo on the helmet, fluttering large mascara eyes and rubbed the buzzing helmet of the dildo against her clit. Zara crossed her legs and watched me wank.
‘That dirty hobo finds us terribly stimulating, darling. Look at him wanking like there’s no tomorrow. How’s the dildo?’ Zara had been chatting all night and her voice was huskier than ever. I looked at her feet in those ridiculously expensive, ridiculously high heeled Alaias. I wanked and wanked. The Ultrasex pills were good ones. Barwick Ford came over with a bottle of Krug and sat on Zara’s knee.
‘Hello Zara you old slut’ said Barwick, playing with his cock. ‘I say, it’s Tamara Wirt, what a hotty. She loves a bit of cake off the cock’
‘She’s having a moment with Cameron, darling’ purred Zara. ‘While that pikey gets off on it’
‘Fucking dirty cunt’ said Barwick, rubbing his shaft, pouring Krug in Zara’s mouth.
‘Mmmmmm, I think this is all rather cozy, darling’ said Zara ‘we could almost be at Cadogan Square, in the sitting room’
‘No fucking hobos in my sitting room’ said Barwick, looking at me with his pissed up face, dribbling as he wanked off. To, think, when I’m Hugo he’s one of my best mates. He’s alright I suppose. While I’m Tom the pikey, there’s no rapport, though. Lucky bastard sitting on old Pumpkinson’s knee. Oh wow, look at Tamara get naughty with that dildo. I bet she’d look fantastic at a posh restaurant snorting Charles off the shaft of that beast of blue leather. Shaft. What a great word. I remember a beautiful posh brunette called Helena saying the word ‘shaft’ in the Duke once, she said it over and over with such a passion and then finished with a fit of giggles, spilling her white wine Spritzer. Who could I possibly be?
‘Bloody shame Hugo’s lost’ said Barwick, coming on Zara’s foot.
‘Oh lovely, darling. More spunk on my fucking shoes. I’ll just have to get the dirty hobo to lick it all off’ smiled Zara. Tamara giggled, moaning over Cameron. Hmm, licking Barwick’s manjuice off Zara’s shoes will be a challenge. Zara put her foot in my face and I licked salty come off the leather straps and spat it out as I wanked fast. Zara snorted and laughed as I did so.
‘That’s it, darling, get right in there, and kiss polish them when you’ve finished licking the dirt off’ Zara insisted.
Barwick sat back and drank more Krug. ‘I’m glad you didn’t swallow, Mr Wanking Hobo, I don’t want you having my babies. Ha ha ha’
Tamara giggled.
‘More Krug anyone, there’s a fucking endless supply of this cheap shit back there, ha ha ha’ Barwick was on form as he guzzled. Several people were in the back of Lord Baslington’s gold Rolls Royce as he told Honor to start it up. Tamara got up and clambered in the back with Skinny and Buxham. Zara grabbed me by the arm and we hopped in the front next to Honor. Princess Zuleika tottered over her Balenciaga gladiator stiletto boots and swung a leg over and landed on me. Everyone had a bottle of Krug. Jibby insisted on getting in too, smoking a long long Sobranie.
‘Where are we going?’ sang Jibby
‘To a party’ said Lord Baslington.
‘Oh super darling, a party, how awfully super’ purred Skinny Boodle.
‘Soooo cool’ said Buxham, stroking her pink leather strap on, waving her D Squared croc leather zips bag.
‘Do we have to take the smelly hobo?’ said Princess Zuleika.
‘Yah, we’ll turn him into a gentleman’ said Zara.
‘Oh of course’ giggled Buxham.
‘I’ve got the hots for Zara’s friend Cameron’ said a very spaced out Tamara Wirt, in her short short red leather skirt, gripping her Balenciaga bag.
‘We mustn’t leave this’ said tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, coupling the big leather penis on wheels to the tow bar of the car.
‘Yes, and you must ride it!’ Laughed Zara.
‘Oh I’m on it!’ smiled Jemima. And the car drove out of the large side doors.
I was thrown into the back of a van in the middle of the night quite abruptly by someone dressed as Catwoman and I woke up on a green leather sofa in a very smart office the next morning.
A door opened and in walked Jibby Bream, wearing a leather and fur ensemble all by Brioni, big Prada sunglasses on her head, a Walter Steiger leopard and brown leather beauty bag with a gold zip around the circumference, fishnets, and super elevated brown croc studded strappy stilettos by Donna Karan. Rapture!
‘Darling, I need you for an exhibit. You are the one’ said plummy Jibby. All Sloanes are plummy, get used to it. I nodded, lying on the sofa totally naked. I had been emancipated of all garments.
‘Darrrling, I’m going to turn you into a piece of conceptual art. It’s a piece entitled “The Wanking Hobo” and it forms part of a larger permanent exhibition called ‘Sooooo Kinky’. So, darling, you’re going to be a work of art’ I looked at her shoes, of course I did, and my cock grew without the magic beans.
‘OK, Jibby’ I said. Everyone knows Jibby. Nobody fucks with her. She shoots hobos in the night.
‘Super fucking brilliant, darling’ she smiled. ‘Now come this way’
I followed her into the swanky main gallery and wow, what a scene. There was a large installation of video screens showing a woman repeatedly zipping up her knee high boot. The phonetics was amazing. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip. In one corner was a gold dildo, as tall as a monument, poking up into the domed ceiling. Along another wing was a large leather penis on wheels, sporadically ejaculating Kelly Caleche cream perfume into a pot. There was a huge hologram of Penny Keats’ coiffured head with pearls repeating comments such as ‘Jerry, you naughty naughty boy’ and ‘Oh I say Tom, it’s a mini Matterhorn!’ There was a large baroque painting entitled ‘Two Dildos at Royal Ascot’ accompanied by a group of fashion models from Society Agency including Lily Bottomleigh all wearing Philip Treacy hats, enjoying Pimms and looking through croc leather binoculars. How awfully chic they were. There was a video of Skinny and Buxham, quite drunk; trying to ram their Prada stilettos up a chav’s bum in the lobby of a grand hotel. There were some photos of men jumping rooftops in designer boots. There were vintage Guy Bourdin prints and amorous sketches by caricaturists. There were many videos and holograms of tongues and lips licking and kissing shoes and handbags and very posh leather gloves wanking large penises in classical country house gardens.
‘Tonight is the opening party, darling. There’s your space’ said Jibby, smoking a cigarette in a croc leather holder pointing at some cardboard on the floor with a sign that read ‘The Wanking Hobo’ I sat down on the cardboard. It was warm.
‘Now start wanking and don’t stop until the party is over and all the guests have gone’ insisted Jibby, taking a puff on her cigarette holder. I looked at her Donna Karan shoes. It was easy to stay hard looking at those. On top of that Jibby had left an assortment of sex drugs in a small pink ostrich leather Hermes Kelly bag.
‘That’s it, darling, lots of wanking. There are going to be some very important people here this evening, so be very very naughty! People will be saying very naughty things to you.’ She walked off in her Brioni outfit.
‘I could fuck you’ I said.
‘Keep wanking’ she shouted from the other side of the gallery.
I wondered who would be turning up. I was getting quite excited. I took various sex pills, some of which I had no idea of the consequences. I might die here tonight, in the throes of sexual ecstasy. It had happened to a friend. He took a new pill called Everlust. He spent a day coming, like someone who can’t stop being sick due to sea sickness, well this was similar, only instead of vomiting, he was climaxing. He was at Royal Ascot and he died at the pub afterwards of a stroke. Everlust, a very tricky customer indeed. I made myself comfortable on the cardboard bed and masturbated for a bit. When Jibby was out of sight, I watched Penny Keats’ say some things.
At about seven thirty in the evening a few guests arrived. I recognized them straight away. It was Skinny and Buxham. Skinny was wearing a short dress made entirely of little gold dildos by Hussein Chalayan, a silk trailing scarf by Gucci, and a pair of John Galliano super elevated black leather knee-high boots with wood heels and zips down the inside and outside. She was sporting an orange leather zip-detail glove-clutch by Alexander McQueen. She looked ravishing. Buxham was wearing figure hugging leather down one side of her torso and was completely naked elsewhere, aside from a delicious pink leather covered strap-on penis, with studs. Izzy would be proud. She wore strappy black croc platform stilettos by Zuhair Murad, oh yes those ones, and carried a very large D Squared black croc leather zip bag with gold zips.
‘Oh it’s a pikey’ said Buxham, swinging her bag in my direction ‘Let’s go and piss on him’
‘Later, darling. There are other things to see’ said Skinny, pivoting on a boot heel.
‘Naughty lovely things to see. Jibby’s an absolute wiz’ Skinny continued.
‘I’ll be pissing on you later, you fucker’ smiled Buxham. I’m not even sure they recognized me from the events at Brompton Cross. Maybe they want their Porsche seats cleaning? I started wanking. Jibby was double kissing Skinny and Buxham; congratulating them on their latest TV show ‘How Your Shoes Can Make You Completely Fuckable’. A screen flashed on at the back which showed a close up two fine horses fucking on a glorious hillside in the Cotswolds. Grunting and all. It tied in with the Ascot section.
Then Sarah Cavendish-Peel entered from a Bentley limo. Oh she was divine. My willy went into double takes. Antonio oh Antonio. God I wished I was Hugo again. Maybe Hugo will turn up. What a moment it would be. The first time the two bodies used by the same mysterious person will have been in the same room. It could be very interesting. Sarah CP was wearing a Chalayan zebra print fur top which barely came down to her waist. She proudly exhibited her neatly trimmed pussy. She strutted across the marble floor of the gallery in high heeled black leather thigh boots, with leather garter straps at the top, also by Chalayan. She carried an YSL Downtown bag, with a zebra silk scarf wrapped around the handle. I lay on the floor watching her exchange kisses with Jibby. Jibby could not stop feeling her leather boots. The Krug was starting to flow.
‘Darling, where’s Hugo?’ Asked Jibby with her trademark cigarette holder.
‘Oh he went orf into Surrey with some tarts and hasn’t been back for days’ Sarah said fluttering her big eyelashes like Cleopatra.
‘He’s insatiable, he would have loved my show’ said Jibby.
‘Maybe’ said Sarah ‘although he can be strangely moody about kinky sex. He suddenly became a shoe fetishist, you know. For absolutely years he exhibited no interest in my huge collection of designer shoes and one morning he insisted on kissing a pair of Gucci platforms I had just bought on Sloane Street’
‘Was he just experimenting, darling. He may have been trying to spice things up a bit’
Sarah shook her long mane of blonde hair ‘No, it was the full-blown thing. He really had a passion for those Gucci shoes. Just as suddenly his fetish for shoes went away, which was weird, and then it came back at my leopard and leather party with a vengeance. Which is just as well, I’d spent an awful lot of money on new Moschino boots.’
‘Absolutely darling’ purred Jibby ‘and you’ve come dressed to kill this evening. Those thigh high boots are sooo divine. I think the wanking hobo will appreciate them. He has fetishes for ladies shoes.’
‘Oh yah, you mentioned it briefly, the wanking hobo, is that him over there?’ Sarah pointed in my direction. They both strutted over, with champagne flutes.
‘Oh he’s rather sweet’ said Sarah ‘Terribly common, but sweet. Early twenties I would say’ I had a worm’s eye view of the gorgeous Sloaney Sarah, as I leered at the grainy leather shine of her Chalayan boots, leading the way to her vagina on show for all to see. I wanked like there was no tomorrow.
‘Darling hobo’ Jibby said to me ‘Now that’s brilliant. A fine rhythm you’ve got going. Exquisite in fact’
‘Oh yah’ brayed Sarah, swinging the lovely YSL bag ‘Jolly exquisite, Hugo would be proud’.
‘It’s perfectly disgusting’ said Skinny, who had come over to join the chat. And lots of chat there was, about this and that. I kept tossing the caber, on the floor, at times almost coming into contact with a heel.
‘Now kiss my boots!’ Demanded Sarah, in a firm RP voice. ‘Lick my expensive heels you disgusting peasant’. This was good. Very ritualistic.
‘Yahh, lick her fucking heels’ added Skinny
‘And keep wanking while you do, darling’ insisted Jibby
‘Don’t ever stop kissing my boots’ affirmed Sarah, swigging her champagne and swinging that YSL bag, zips glinting in the gallery lights. I loved to see a good designer leather handbag moving to good effect, with all the embellishments twinkling. I’ve often been in Yves Saint Laurent on Sloane Street and the Downtown bag had often caught my attention. I had seen many models parading up and down Kings Road carrying one.
The sound of that John Galliano zipping boot was perpetually in the background. Sarah’s friend Charlotte Foggins entered wearing a classic green Chanel tweed skirt suit, the skirt being exceptionally short, flower patterned Wolfords, a brown leather Lancel bag and Prada platform heels, two-tone green and black leather. Her Versace silk scarf had fancy pictures of large erect willies and elegant ladies’ hands printed on it.
More guests arrived. The magnificent seven from Quentessentially.com entered the gallery, stiletto heels click-clicking across the polished marble. They were all wearing ravishing outfits and carrying large leather designer bags, naturally, lead by Zara Parker-Pumpkinson with large green leather Marc Jacobs Stella bag and her husky posh accent. There was the ever cheerful Venetia Leerbourn-Zeal, the oh so posh Georgia Barton-Batting, sweet sexy Lucy Possomsby, tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, Izzy Buckworth-Chard who was at the Serpentine event, and the awfully softly spoken Olivia Cheltenham.
Lady Trammerton entered with two pugs, wearing an Alexander McQueen red and black skirt suit and a large hat made of shiny ribbed red leather, with a zip around the circumference. She wore classic black leather Manolo Blahnik court shoes with gold studs on the heel and carried a gorgeous red crocodile Prada bag with a zip along the side. Her gloves were black leather, by Mulberry and had two zips at the sides. Naughty Lady Trammerton. She carried an exquisite walking cane and strutted over to the group of ladies surrounding me. I could see up her skirt and she was wearing a butterfly vibrator. She rested the gold tip of her cane on my chin and it suddenly started vibrating. She moved the tip down my chest to my cock and held it on my helmet. It was very stimulating.
‘A hobo’s big cock!’ announced Lady Trammerton.
The group of women burst out laughing, pivoting on high heels and swigging champagne.
‘It’s a good size, darling’ added Venetia
Venetia was wearing an orange flowery see through minidress and orange leather knee high boots by Jimmy Choo with a black leather Jimmy Choo Mahala bag and a quirky black hat saying ‘Zeal’ in a curve over her head. One day Hugo will be having his wicked way with Venetia. That word ‘Zeal’ will be bobbing up and down.
‘He seems to enjoy kissing ones boots’ nodded Sarah.
‘Super’ said Venetia ‘Kiss my Jimmy Choos you dirty pikey’
‘Oh inspired, darling, truly inspired’ sang Jibby moving nicely in her Brioni leather and fur ensemble dress.
‘I’m almost tempted to sit on his face and piss on him’ laughed Buxham, who had an irresistible urge to do so, and by the end of the evening I imagine she will succumb, after lots of booze.
‘Oh you simply must’ added Olivia playing with the zips on her Gucci zips bag.
Olivia was wearing a fishnet top showing her tits, a blue fur choker, a large black feathery Philip Treacy creation for a hat, leather gloves in purple by Prada, a dark brown mini skirt by Hermes with matching belt, and black leather strappy sandals by Giuseppe Zanotti with a back heel zip.
‘You simply must sit on his face while I suck his cock, ha ha’ Olivia whispered. The quiet ones are always the naughtiest, they say.
‘Oh Olivia, darling, you naughty thing’ said Lucy, sitting on a nearby leather chaise longue, with a large gold penis along the top of it. I was wanking hard, as Lady Trammerton had withdrawn her cane and was stimulating Zara’s clit, who was now on the chaise longue with her legs akimbo. Zara’s leopard print shorts were unzipped and Lady Trammerton’s cane was in there. I looked at Zara’s pleasured face and her feet wriggling in Azzedine Alaia dark green leather strappy platforms. Posh feet in posh shoes and posh moans from Zara’s posh face. I almost came, but I held back. Zara did not recognize me at all from an earlier encounter.
Jibby took some photos of Lady Trammerton’s cane penetrating Zara. Dirty Jibby. A group of naked male models got out of a limo and entered and were automatically greeted by various women. More guests were arriving, including Barwick Ford and Zita Zippa, in her usual black leather Givenchy number and sky high shoes. I saw Henrietta Beauchamp-Slutto in ripped jodhpurs and thigh high Prada boots and a plastic see-through top with studs on it. Very avant garde for Henrietta. Kinky riding chic! She wore a leather riding hat and carried a whip. She whipped a few male models across their bums, as they drank Krug. One of Lady Trammerton’s pugs was fucking a Hermes Birkin bag; it must have been related to Charleston, Liza Blow’s dirty dog. The pug was clearly in a state of rapture as it pushed the bag into my bum. I could feel the soft cold leather, as the pug fucked at it like it was the sexiest lady pug in the world.
The party was a full on orgy by midnight, with lots of action abounding all around, as I wanked away, having come a few times already. I had a very nice orgasm while watching Zara being prodded by Lady Trammerton with Lady Trammerton saying ‘That’s it Zara old girl, work those hips. Zara also administered a large navy blue leather dildo of her own while Lady Trammerton continued to play clitty with the cane tip. Zara made me lick the juice off her dildo.
‘Lick my leather dildo clean you fucking gypo!’ Laughed Zara, crouching down, with her leopard shorts unzipped at the front and her Alaia shoes stained from come and champagne.
‘Uhhhhhhh uuhhhhh’ I came everywhere, all over the cardboard. Olivia, Jibby, Sarah and Skinny applauded. Jibby pushed the Kelly bag of pills closer to me, urging me to take more sex drugs. I indulged in several pills. I continued wanking my excited member. More high profile guests were arriving from both celebrity and aristocratic circles. I saw Princess Zuleika of Aromia and Ed Bunt-Batt going at it on the big pumping leather penis, Zuleika’s hair falling back into the basin of Kelly Caleche cream perfume, as Ed pounded away gritting his teeth. Princess Zuleika was wearing two leather starfish by Versace, one covering her boobs and one on her head as a hat; she wore strappy high heeled gladiator boots by Balenciaga with zips up the front. She kicked those booted legs high as Ed pumped away. I saw a male model sitting on the crossed-leg of one of the Ascot models, wanking furiously. A bit of naughty knee-sitting. She was elegantly sipping Pimms, so very Beatonesque in her broad black and white feathery hat.
Skinny and Buxham were still standing above me chatting about stuff. Barwick and Henrietta were snogging passionately against the front glass window. The place was alive with sex. No sign of Hugo Posset.
I saw Georgia Barton-Batting sit on the chaise longue and cross her long legs. I ached to get up and sit on her lovely knee, all I could do was imagine and wank and wank. She saw that my attention was on her. She was beautiful in her Lanvin navy blue silk bow mini dress and black patent leather knee high boots with gold inside zips by Sergio Rossi and a long red crocodile clutch bag by Salvatore Ferragamo with two gold zips on both sides. She got up and came strutting over, stiletto boots click-clicking. She put her left booted foot up against my lips.
‘Now kiss the patent leather, pikey!’ Georgia’s accent was old money posh and husky. I wanked fast. I kissed the smooth patent leather. I could see reflections of people fucking in them. She drank from the bottle, a large bottle of Krug and she was smoking.
‘Sooo, you were on the streets of Chelsea? How terribly chic’ she said, as I kissed the round zip pull near her knee. She giggled, spilt some Krug. Jibby was taking photos of me kissing her zip pull. Buxham was eating from a tray of expensive cakes and chocolates, laced with drugs.
A few gatecrashers managed to get in, namely a guy whose old van had broke down outside and a woman with only one leg with a scrawny mongrel dog.
I looked up Georgia’s dress and saw her lovely pussy, slightly wet. Her eyes were firmly on my big cock as I wanked. Then she straddled my loins and I watched her smooth bum come down on my cock. We fucked and fucked.
‘Um, sorry Georgia darling, it’s supposed to be “The Wanking Hobo” not the “The Hobo Fucking Posh PR Girl” Jibby was cross.
‘Awfully sorry Jibby’ said Georgia, straightening up her dress and twiddling her disheveled blonde hair. ‘I was sooo wanting to fuck the pikey, so sorry darling’. She stood there in her boots checking her make up and drinking more booze, from trays passing by.
‘Unlucky Georgia darling’ said Venetia.
‘Jibby’s always watching’ winked Lucy, fingering a long snag in her Wolfords, cross-legged on the chaise longue.
‘Yah, she only allows him to wank’ said Jemima giggling, playing with her hair as all ex-public school girls do. She was at Marlborough.
‘They say he was sleeping rough on Fulham Road’ added Olivia ‘I didn’t think that sort of thing was allowed in Chelsea since Lamley got in.’
‘I don’t think the police care about smelly hobos that much’ said Lucy. ‘Oh my god, Georgia, his cock’s been up you!’
‘Yah, and it was terribly good’ moaned Georgia, crossing her booted legs on the chaise longue.
Zara overheard ‘Here, Georgia darling, finish yourself off with my big blue leather dildo. I’ve called it Cameron! Ha ha’. There was snorts and laughter. Georgia uncrossed her legs.
‘Yah, go at it with Cameron, darling’ urged Jibby, smoking a Sobranie twirling the cigarette holder rakishly. Nearby, a male model was being ordered by Buxham and Skinny to sit on a champagne bottle. Buxham clapped, as her strap-on leather penis bobbed up and down. Skinny was making him kiss her Alexander McQueen clutch bag. Dirty bitches. They loved men doing things to their bottoms for some reason. The one legged woman was admiring the Guy Bourdin prints. Her mongrel dog was eating an éclair on the floor, laced with Everlust. Most of the cakes were having an effect on the guests.
It was approaching one o’clock in the morning and a gold Rolls Royce convertible was waved into the gallery via the large sliding side door. The chauffeur; she was a spitting image of Honor Blackman in green leather skirt suit and matching peaked cap and knee high stiletto boots by Christian Louboutin. She even spoke like Honor Blackman, but it was a simulacrum. A sensational simulacrum. She opened the door for Lord Baslington, who was wearing a purple studded top hat and and thong with studs down the front. The Honor Blackman simulacrum produced a black leather Juicy Couture Jezebel clutch bag with double zips down the side of it and proceeded to rub the zips up and down the bulging front of Lord Baslington’s studded thong causing quite intense vibrations. Jibby moved in with her camera, smiling and crouching.
Jibby snapped away ‘Oh darling, darling, darrrrrling! Gorgeous Lord Bazzer! I love the chauffeur; she looks exactly like Honor Blackman. What a super simulacra. Oh those darling scientists are terribly clever these days.’
‘Indeed they are Jibby’ breathed Lord Baslington, trying not to climax, despite the zippy pleasures of the Jezebel playing violin on his crotch ‘I paid a few billion for her, she’s a bloody good chauffeur too and she’s awfully adept at securing theatre tickets at the Royal Court’
‘He loves the Royal Court’ said the simulacrum Honor.
‘Oh you are a fabulous thing, darling’ brayed Jibby ‘in fabulous Louboutin’
‘She goes like a fucking rocket, never ever tires, never never’ said Lord Baslington. ‘Just as well, as I have an enhanced robotic cock, developed by Masters and Jones. Oh they say I’m mad, but fuck me, I care not a jot’.
‘Jolly super’ said Jibby, watching Honor continually rub Lord Baslington’s bulge, which he clearly liked a lot. I was watching and wanking over the scene. It was decadence beyond compare. Guests gravitated to the gold Rolls Royce. There was some conversation with Lord Baslington, who laughed and snorted as the seats of his Rolls Royce were commandeered for furious kinky sex with an array of sex toys, some of which came as part of the car’s deluxe special equipment. I imagine, they too, were under warranty. I saw Skinny and Buxham get on the back seat with the man whose van broke down, who happened to be a large strapping chap who rowed for Oxford who Jibby certainly approved of. There would be no trash hitting this party, aside from me, the wanking hobo. I wasn’t tiring, I was as hard as ever, but I was not coming for ages, really restraining my urge to climax. I saw Buxham fucking the van driver with her strap-on.
Lord Baslington came over and pissed on my leg. He laughed and walked off to get a drink. Then he came back over with a full bottle of Krug in one hand. ‘Stand up you gypsy, stand up and wank like a man, don’t be lying down there with no dignity! Have some pride’
‘Ha ha ha, oh Lord Baslington’ said Lady Trammerton ‘you must be having a ball with your new bionic member.’
‘Yahh, deffo, Trammers. Once that fucking shark in the Thames had severed it orf, I had to get a new one. Luckily the shark spat it out, which was jolly sporting of the fellow. No hard feelings for the shark.’ Lord Baslington was a madman, through and through.
‘Super darling’ smiled Lady Trammerton, switching on her cane.
‘Quite, the surgeons at Masters and Jones are wizards with new cock technology; I get better bloody orgasms now than I did when I was a teen! Ha ha ha’ Lord Baslington ripped off his thong and his techno-lance stood erect like a butternut squash. There were gasps of approval from guests. Lady Trammerton ran her vibrating cane up and down his shaft as they chatted about gardens.
I decided to try on Lord Baslington’s thong. The Lord noticed and summoned Honor over and told her to give me the ‘zip clutch on the crotch’ treatment. I came within five minutes, the zipping sensation was too great and the smell of Honor’s leathers and her husky voice was all too much. I shot my load.
‘Hah ha ha hahh’ bellowed Lord Baslington. ‘Again! Old chap. Again’
Honor went at my bulge again; I was hard as ever, this time I managed to last longer.
‘I bet you come first’ I said.
Lady Trammerton winked at me and concentrated the powerful vibrating tip of her cane on Lord Baslington’s throbbing helmet. I could see he was gritting his teeth in unbridled pleasure, be was on the super brink. I watched him moan and shoot his spunk all over Lady Trammerton’s red ribbed leather hat turning it into a fly agaric.
Jibby clapped and cheered on the chaise longue with Sarah Cavendish-Peel and Charlotte Foggins. Most of the Quentessential girls were cheering. Henrietta Beauchamp Chatto looked on, with Barwick still pumping her from behind. Princess Zuleika and Ed Bunt-Batt were still riding the big leather cock of love, trying unique positions. Lady Trammerton’s pug was busy shagging a Balenciaga Lariat bag that belonged to Tamara Wirt, another model. She was busy snorting Charles off Lord Baslington’s modified penis. Tamara had a fetish about snorting coke off willies. She was often reminded of it by her friends at posh restaurants. Once she pulled a horny waiter’s pants down in Maziti and snorted the white stuff off his penis. She was expelled from Lady Frances Bowland’s College for snorting coke off a model’s penis during an art lesson. She was here tonight, doing exactly that, to as many willies as she could find. Sometimes she substituted coke with the icing sugar on cakes, as she was getting close to overdosing. I took a few Ultrasex pills and laid down on the cardboard, watching spunk and champagne bespattered designer shoes and boots perform their magic. By four o’clock in the morning, the floor was getting uncomfortable, so I laid on my front for a while, fucking the soft leather Balenciaga Lariat bag that belonged to Tamara. It was strangely vaginal. Tamara sat on the chaise longue, in a ripped T-shirt, a very short red leather skirt and black YSL covered platform shoes. Her big hair was a flurry. She sat there, spaced out, rubbing her clit, watching me fuck her Balenciaga bag.
‘My bag is sooo hot’ she slurred and giggled.
‘Oh it is’ I panted, looking up her skirt.
‘My bag has been fucked by a pug, darling. You’re having it after a dog has spunked on it. Oh well, you are a pikey’
I was double hard again, excited by her coked up posh accent and YSL high heels. I sat down and wanked, watching her play with her pussy. Zara Parker-Pumpkinson joined her on the chaise longue and stuck a long tongue into her ear. Tamara giggled with a big toothy grin.
‘Tamara darling, have you met Cameron?’ Zara produced the goods from her stained Stella bag. Tamara licked the dildo on the helmet, fluttering large mascara eyes and rubbed the buzzing helmet of the dildo against her clit. Zara crossed her legs and watched me wank.
‘That dirty hobo finds us terribly stimulating, darling. Look at him wanking like there’s no tomorrow. How’s the dildo?’ Zara had been chatting all night and her voice was huskier than ever. I looked at her feet in those ridiculously expensive, ridiculously high heeled Alaias. I wanked and wanked. The Ultrasex pills were good ones. Barwick Ford came over with a bottle of Krug and sat on Zara’s knee.
‘Hello Zara you old slut’ said Barwick, playing with his cock. ‘I say, it’s Tamara Wirt, what a hotty. She loves a bit of cake off the cock’
‘She’s having a moment with Cameron, darling’ purred Zara. ‘While that pikey gets off on it’
‘Fucking dirty cunt’ said Barwick, rubbing his shaft, pouring Krug in Zara’s mouth.
‘Mmmmmm, I think this is all rather cozy, darling’ said Zara ‘we could almost be at Cadogan Square, in the sitting room’
‘No fucking hobos in my sitting room’ said Barwick, looking at me with his pissed up face, dribbling as he wanked off. To, think, when I’m Hugo he’s one of my best mates. He’s alright I suppose. While I’m Tom the pikey, there’s no rapport, though. Lucky bastard sitting on old Pumpkinson’s knee. Oh wow, look at Tamara get naughty with that dildo. I bet she’d look fantastic at a posh restaurant snorting Charles off the shaft of that beast of blue leather. Shaft. What a great word. I remember a beautiful posh brunette called Helena saying the word ‘shaft’ in the Duke once, she said it over and over with such a passion and then finished with a fit of giggles, spilling her white wine Spritzer. Who could I possibly be?
‘Bloody shame Hugo’s lost’ said Barwick, coming on Zara’s foot.
‘Oh lovely, darling. More spunk on my fucking shoes. I’ll just have to get the dirty hobo to lick it all off’ smiled Zara. Tamara giggled, moaning over Cameron. Hmm, licking Barwick’s manjuice off Zara’s shoes will be a challenge. Zara put her foot in my face and I licked salty come off the leather straps and spat it out as I wanked fast. Zara snorted and laughed as I did so.
‘That’s it, darling, get right in there, and kiss polish them when you’ve finished licking the dirt off’ Zara insisted.
Barwick sat back and drank more Krug. ‘I’m glad you didn’t swallow, Mr Wanking Hobo, I don’t want you having my babies. Ha ha ha’
Tamara giggled.
‘More Krug anyone, there’s a fucking endless supply of this cheap shit back there, ha ha ha’ Barwick was on form as he guzzled. Several people were in the back of Lord Baslington’s gold Rolls Royce as he told Honor to start it up. Tamara got up and clambered in the back with Skinny and Buxham. Zara grabbed me by the arm and we hopped in the front next to Honor. Princess Zuleika tottered over her Balenciaga gladiator stiletto boots and swung a leg over and landed on me. Everyone had a bottle of Krug. Jibby insisted on getting in too, smoking a long long Sobranie.
‘Where are we going?’ sang Jibby
‘To a party’ said Lord Baslington.
‘Oh super darling, a party, how awfully super’ purred Skinny Boodle.
‘Soooo cool’ said Buxham, stroking her pink leather strap on, waving her D Squared croc leather zips bag.
‘Do we have to take the smelly hobo?’ said Princess Zuleika.
‘Yah, we’ll turn him into a gentleman’ said Zara.
‘Oh of course’ giggled Buxham.
‘I’ve got the hots for Zara’s friend Cameron’ said a very spaced out Tamara Wirt, in her short short red leather skirt, gripping her Balenciaga bag.
‘We mustn’t leave this’ said tall and feisty Jemima Barnes, coupling the big leather penis on wheels to the tow bar of the car.
‘Yes, and you must ride it!’ Laughed Zara.
‘Oh I’m on it!’ smiled Jemima. And the car drove out of the large side doors.
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