1. Disgust


    Date: 10/5/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: BradleyStoke, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    of magic, like ‘Hey Presto!’, or even a bit of excitement, but all the lurching about from one almost-a-tune to another only made her suffering the worse. The musicians weren’t the only plug ugly people in the outsized music room. The private performance of the Aspettare String Quartet’s recital was for the benefit and pleasure of guests hand-picked and invited by none other than Sir Kenneth Chandler: knight of the realm, patron of the arts and private philanderer. To Susan’s eyes almost everyone in the audience was grotesque, with the exception of those younger women who were there for much the same reason as she was. How was it possible for so much of God’s creation to be so unhealthy, unwholesome and seemingly in-bred? In fact, if evidence was ever needed that God, if He existed, was either far from omnipotent or just playing a cruel and elaborate joke, then this could be confirmed by a scan of the corpulent, sallow-skinned, aging or misshapen men and women all sitting stock still in one of Sir Kenneth’s more opulent chambers and at least pretending to listen intently to the Aspettare String Quartet. Susan was familiar with most of Sir Kenneth’s chambers, from the billiard room to the library, from the private cinema to the indoor swimming pool, and from the vast kitchen to the opulent bed chambers. And it was in this last room that Susan, and a few other of her colleagues and acquaintances, became most familiar with the most grotesque and least appealing aspects of Sir ...
    Kenneth and his many friends and associates. Sir Kenneth’s naked body exhibited a blend of the scrawniness of middle age and the corpulence of good-living. But at least he was a man whose stomach didn’t obscure or even flop over the proof of his manhood which he, like so many men, was so keen to flaunt at close proximity in Susan’s face. Susan had seen it all before, of course. She’d seen fat ones; thin ones; ones with a prominent bend; ones where the balls put the penis to shame (although they were most often also nothing to be proud of); dark ones; crinkled ones; circumcised ones; and very many that were either far too eager to jump to attention or needed a huge amount of attention to coax into any kind of useful life. There was always some consolation for the awkward fumbling, the clumsy manhandling and the unreasonable demands on her body. And these most often eventually found their way up her nose or ingested in a ceremony more elaborate and often more pleasurable than the lovemaking it was intended to supplement. At long last, there was the customary uneasy halt to the performance where the audience looked around at one another to judge whether an applause was required. And this would soon break forth when the cue was given by a couple of firm handclaps: usually initiated by Sir Kenneth who himself relied on a discrete nod from his decidedly cultured and foul-breathed cultural curator. And then like waves crashing on the beach or, more often, a strong wind against the ...
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