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.