One Week in the Private House by Esme Ombreux Page A

and glanced towards the chaise longue. Miss Morelli lifted a languid eyebrow and moved her hand from her crotch as if to demonstrate that Jem's efforts had so far failed to arouse her.
    Jem returned to her task. The front of Darren's shorts, supported by his burgeoning pole, had become pulled away from his groin. Kneeling as tall as she could, Jem peered down into the gap between flesh and nylon and saw, in the darkness, the thick set of the youth's penis emerging from a mass of blond hairs. So much for the expensive make-up job, she thought, and pushed her face in to the chink. Her left cheek pressed against the hard smoothness of the concave stomach; her right cheek was abraded by the waistband of the shorts. Her nostrils were assailed by the mingled odours of talcum powder and male sex. She pushed on, using twists and turns of her head to widen the gap between groin and shorts, until her lips made contact with the pulsating rigidity of Darren's prick. Then, almost lifting the youth from his feet as she stretched the waistband to its limit, she jerked her head away from his body until the shorts were clear of the end of his imprisoned member. The elastic waistband snapped back around the tops of his thighs, capturing his testicles in its firm embrace. With commendable restraint, Darren merely uttered a low groan of pain; his unfettered penis, apparently unaffected by this assault, stood proudly to attention only a few inches from Jem's face.
    'Bravo!' Miss Morelli commented, a little ironically. 'Well done, Jem. Now what?'
    The next bit's easy, Jem said to herself; I've had more than enough practice with Rudi during the last few weeks. And, regardless of previous instructions, she raised her hands to yank down Darren's shorts and clasp his tight buttocks. With deliberate care she pulled his thick truncheon inch by inch into her mouth, simultaneously insinuating a finger into the crinkled orifice of his bottom.
    Who's a big boy, then, she thought, as Darren's prick touched the back of her throat before her lips had encountered even a stray hair of his pubic bush. And who's got an easy-access arsehole, too? I wonder who's been up there on a regular basis? Terence Headman? Or is the Morelli woman a dildo freak?
    She pulled away from him until only the velvet plum was in her mouth and only the tip of her finger was encircled by his anus; she lapped with her tongue at the underside of his helmet, and vibrated her fingertip. She felt his body jerk, and realised that he wouldn't be able to stand that sort of treatment for long, so she pulled him deeply into her mouth again, even more slowly than before, and pushed two fingers into his arse.
    He's going to come soon, Jem thought; I wonder what Miss Morelli would consider a suitable finale? I can fix my make-up, but I really don't want spunk in my hair. Then she noticed the odour of Miss Morelli's heavy perfume, and glanced to one side to find that the long-limbed woman was kneeling next to her.
    'Very good indeed, Jem,' Miss Morelli said in a conspiratorial whisper. 'He seems to be enjoying this. Please carry on; I don't think he's quite ready for his climax. He has very sensitive testicles, but as you seem to have your hands and mouth rather full, I'll deal with this tyalls. You just keep sucking, my dear.'
    Leaving two fingers firmly in Darren's arse, Jim slid her lips to the end of his pole and gently licked and kissed the little slit at the tip. In this way she was able to watch Miss Morelli's hand close around the youth's bulging, wrinkled sac, and appreciate the sudden muscular spasm that accompanied his desperate groan.
    'He loves this,' Miss Morelli said, in a voice that suggested command rather than mere comment; she started to flick her fingers against the bottom of his scrotum, almost as if she were chucking a baby's chin. Jem wriggled her fingers inside the youth's anal passage, and circled his helmet with her tongue while she watched the increasingly violent movements