The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again Part 1

SARAH CAVENDISH-PEEL

One day I became Hugo Posset. How, I can’t tell you, but that doesn’t matter. I became Hugo Posset, a well respected London art gallery owner, good looking, a mere 22 years of age with a big cock. Before I was Hugo, I was an East End barrow boy, with a penchant for posh girls and an insatiable libido. It was the posh accent that made me horny, and now I was Hugo Posset I would have access to hundreds of Sloaneys.
I woke up and Sarah entered the bedroom at Cadogan Square, braying to a friend on her Blackberry phone. She threw her Chanel bag on the bed; I grabbed it and smelt the new leather. I could smell her Hermes Kelly Caleche perfume inside it and her Porsche car keys. Sarah Cavendish-Peel was an art buyer of very high regard with long gorgeous legs and a cascade of blonde hair. Her Moschino sunglasses were perched on her head. My cock was as hard as a baton.
‘Hugo, you naughty boy’ she said ‘come on, get up, you have a gallery to run!’
I noticed her super high Jimmy Choo shoes, with a zip up the front. God I was horny.
‘We’ll go once I’ve kissed your shoes’ I said.
‘Umm, Hugo. I never knew you were a shoe man, you naughty thing’ Sarah cocked her leg up and put one foot on the bed ‘they are a rather lovely pair of shoes. Jimmy Choo. Seven hundred pounds. Very very essential, darling’
‘Definitely’ I said ‘Here’s to Jimmy Choo’.
‘Oh yah’ brayed Sarah. I studied the shoe and all its intricacies with her perfectly pedicured feet strapped in, balancing on the five inch high stiletto heel, denting the leather bed. I wanked furiously, kissing the delicate leather straps.
‘Oh Hugo. You’re sooooo kinky’ said Sarah is her poshest Sloane accent.
‘Keep saying that’ I panted, while I wanked.
‘Oh Hugo, you’re sooooo kinky! You’re just sooooo kinky! Naughty, naughty Hugo.’
Here was one of the poshest women in London polite society telling Hugo Posset he was a kinky bastard. Oh, the working class lad in me was enjoying this. This woman was something straight out of a Jilly Cooper novel and here I was kissing her Jimmy Choo shoes and playing with my cock.
‘Hugo, darling, I think I’ll wear these shoes to Glorious Gooders next week, if you haven’t eaten them by then’ Sarah giggled.
‘I do like a bit of Jimmy Choo’ I moaned, on the verge of climax, but restraining.
‘Oh I suppose we could have another half an hour of shoe kissing’ said Sarah, swinging her Chanel handbag back onto a leather chair.
Half an hour, well, I liked the sound of that. I wanked in slow pumps, resisting the urge to go for the vinegar stroke. Sarah’s Blackberry buzzed and she spent fifteen minutes chatting to Charlotte Foggins about Hermes bags. To my surprise, Charlotte was coming over. Charlotte Foggins was the owner of the Posh Pussess, a rather swanky gallery in Parsons Green. She spoke posher than the Queen and always wore knee high boots.
‘Charlotte’s just sold a painting for a million’ said Sarah. Money made Sarah very horny, even the mention of a friend getting more made her wet.
‘Good stuff’ I said, almost climaxing.
‘Oh Hugo, with your free hand, use this Rampant Rabbit vibe and bring me orf, there’s a good bear!’ Sarah and dildo were both switched on. I pushed the dildo up her short skirt, she wasn’t wearing knickers, and she seldom did. ‘That’s the ticket. Oh jolly super, that’s the fucking ticket!’
‘You dirty fucking posh whore’ I said, which only served to arouse her even more. Then I told her how much money I had made this week and her floodgates opened.
‘You’ve really changed Hugo’ she gasped.
‘I know, oh I know I have and it’s for the best’ I said, kissing the zip on her shoe. Then I had to come and I came like Buffalo Bill, yee-hawing all the way. I made sure I spunked on her stiletto heel as well, which she thought was too erotic and started having spasms.
Charlotte knocked and came in, wearing a Chanel tweed suit and wonderful black leather knee high boots by Yves Saint Laurent. She swung her big YSL downtown bag in the crook of her elbow.
‘Oh Hugo, you naughty boy’ smiled Charlotte ‘I never knew you were into shoes! Who ever would have thought it?’
‘He’s just come out’ said Sarah, wiping the semen off her shoe heel.
‘I’ve just come’ I laughed.
‘Naughty Hugo, in Sarah’s parents’ bed too. Really’ admonished Charlotte.
‘Ha ha, yeah. Hey, Char how about you let me wank in your grandma’s bed.’ I suggested.
‘Umm, tish tosh, I don’t think so’ said Charlotte, prodding her large Dior shades on her head.
‘What is it with you posh birds and sunglasses on your head?’ I asked in a pseudo cockney accent.
‘Really Hugo, you’re turning into a bit of a chav of late, it’s rather disconcerting. You’ll be drinking down the East End with Kev next’ said Sarah, putting the rabbit dildo back in her thousand pound Chanel bag. ‘We really can’t have a chavvy Hugo’
‘I am a fucking dirty chav cunt’ I laughed, seeing the reaction.
‘No, you’re Hugo Posset, son of Lord and Lady Posset, owner of the Royal Gallery in Chelsea. You are not a dirty chav. Dirty yes, but not a chav’ insisted Charlotte in a very posh voice. She seemed to get posher as the days went by.
‘Fuck off Char, with your knee high boots on that I want to rub my cock on!’ I grinned getting up out of the bed with my big Hampton swinging like a prize marrow.
‘Has he been on the Vi-ag?’ smiled Charlotte taking a small bottle of champagne from her downtown bag.
‘Do you want me to shove that little bottle up your botty?’ I asked, rubbing my cock some more.
‘Hugo! Settle down now, darling’ said Sarah ‘We do have to go now, remem, Lady Trams is coming to look at that Poussin’
I laughed ‘Oh yeah, Lady Trammerton, she’s that ageing sexpot from Kensington. Last time I met her, she put her Hermes leather glove down the front of my pants outside Le Caprice. God, she was drunk. I decided to let her keep her hand there until the Rolls turned up’
‘Oh dear, Lady Trams does do that sort of thing’ giggled Charlotte, taking a swig of mini Krug.
‘Yeah she does do that sort of thing’ I echoed. ‘What’s she going to pay for that Poussin then?’
‘Well, it is the Orion, so it’s worth a few mil’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll make sure we get the best price, darling’
‘Lovely painting’ sung Charlotte.
‘Lovely bag’ I nodded at Charlotte’s YSL. ‘Nice leather, good zips’
‘Never knew you were a conno of ladies bags’ said Charlotte.
‘Oh I used to design them for a short time’ I said
‘Really Hugo, you do have a few dark secrets’ laughed Sarah.
‘He’s having us on’ grinned Charlotte, zipping her bag up.
‘I used to work in Peter Jones, but I got the chop, cos I got caught wanking over a nice Longchamp. A posh lady was asking me the price and I said “I don’t know, but look at my cock rubbing against it”! You should’ve seen her face as I spunked all over the logo. I thought I might get a sale by doing that’
Sarah looked stern ‘Well, you may have done such a thing in a dream Hugo, but you should keep your naughty dreams to yourself. Charlotte and I don’t always want to hear about your masturbatory escapades in PJs’.
‘Yar’, said Charlotte ‘we often go there and don’t really want it sullied ’
‘Oh sorry ladies, next time I’ll come along with you and we can have a ménage a trois in the brasserie’ I was quite excited by such a thought. My cock grew to marrow size proportions again.
‘Oh Hugo, you are insatiable today, someone has swapped you for a mad libidinous satyr! You really are beginning to worry me’ Sarah was ready to go. Sarah’s Blackberry buzzed and it was Lady Trammerton, waiting outside the gallery.
‘It’s Lady Trams’ I laughed ‘the old girl wants to stick her hand down my pants again’
‘God’ Charlotte shook her head.
I followed the two Sloaney babes down the large staircase, listening to their heels tap tapping on the marble steps. A lovely tune. Charlotte said cheerio and I hopped in Sarah’s Porsche. What a lovely smell of leather.
‘So, you’re not going to bother getting dressed then?’ said Sarah, looking at my naked body in the passenger seat. She covered my cock with her Chanel bag ‘Don’t move that, we don’t want you getting arrested!’
I sparked up a large Fior de Florach cigar and opened the window, checking out the talent on the Kings Road. I whistled at three Sloaneys walking along linking arms and they blew kisses back. Sarah was not perturbed in the slightest.
The Kings Road had gone through a renaissance since Joanna Lamley had become PM. Yes, it’s hard to believe that, but in 2012, she became PM. Chelsea had never been better since the days of The Pheasantry. The hardcore Sloane Rangers were back in their heartland. God, it all made me so horny. Sarah’s vibrator went off in her Chanel bag and almost gave me an orgasm. I reached in the bag and switched it off.
‘Well averted’ said Sarah.
I swapped the bag for a pair of Dior pants. ‘So, after Lady Trams has bought the painting, I reckon we should head down to Pelham Crescent. Rubbernose is having a barbecue. There might be some hot action’
‘Who the fuck is Rubbernose? Hot action?’ Sarah frowned beneath her shades
‘Oh he’s an old buddy of mine, used to be a builder, now he’s going by the name of Barwick Ford, and owns a few clubs. You must know Barwick’
‘Yar, Barwick the Bear, as they say’ nodded Sarah.
Rubbernose Ricky was a builder, a real hardcase, well he’s now Barwick Ford. Don’t ask me how it happened, but I know. This is fucking fun, it really is.
‘I never knew Barwick was a builder, surely not’ said Sarah, parking up in Brompton Road, opposite the gallery.
‘Oh he was once’ I winked.