Dans le Murs

Therese set aside the camera suddenly and moved to Laurant who was briskly masturbating. She crouched in front of him, took his swollen length and, putting the head in her mouth, rubbed frantically at it. Laurant climaxed almost immediately and Therese lapped hungrily at the fountain of lust in her mouth. Once the initial flood had stopped she released the still dripping penis and turned to Robert. He heaved his gigantic prick out and pointed it to her mouth. She opened wide and took in the swollen head and began to blow him. He shagged her face furiously then, with a guttural cry, began to let fly a mammoth load. Glutinous come bubbled from between her lips and streamed down the shaft of the jerking cock. Pierre moved across between Denise and me. "Welcome to Joker Industries." he smiled shaking my hand, "Oh, Denise mon petite, uncle Pierre needs your attention". Although he spoke in French I understood what he said. She turned to him and calmly opened his fly, put in her hand and pulled out the fattest erection I had ever seen. After a few gentle strokes and caressing of his balls and hairs she went down on one knee and began to fellate the monster. He began to grunt and dribble over her chin and I half expected him to fire off a salvo at any time but he held his climax back somehow.
"No," he said sharply, pulling his prick from her sucking mouth, "sit."

He sat on a chair with his swollen meat pointing upwards and outwards. Denise raised her skirt and sat astride him, guiding the spear into her delightful crack. Together they eased the slimy tip into her treasure and then she drove down onto him spitting herself on his manhood. He grunted with pleasure and, with her skirt held high so that we could all see the arena, they proceeded to screw avidly. Her young lips gaped as they spread around his penis and they rolled as he drove in and out of her minge. It lasted for less than a minute before he thrust hard into her belly and began to gasp in guttural jerks. Denise squealed as she received a gush of creamy come. He stayed inside her, pumping her full of lust, for about fifteen seconds before slipping out. She held the still climaxing penis against her pube and let the pulses of grey semen spray out from under her fingers. The child released the slippery penis from her hand, giggling as she looked at the bubbles of white cream over her slim cunt. She tripped off as Pierre wiped the froth from his drooping knob and forced it back into his fly. Filming was clearly over but the night was young.
"Let's have a party," suggested Pierre now fully recovered from his activities, "I suggest we go to Le Petite Verre."

I looked somewhat bewildered but Michelle, who had mysteriously reappeared, explained, "It's a small, very private club," she informed me, "with a cellar that has a cabaret most nights from midnight. And the cabaret, wow!"

We left the studio in three cars; I drove, sandwiched between the Peugeot and the XM. We made our way toward the city centre, crossed the peripherique and stopped near the flower market. With Marcel in the lead the group meandered around the cobbled streets until we reached the Boulevard des Peuple Belge. Crossing the now empty parking area we found ourselves in a little street, Rue Descartes. About halfway along was a well lit portico and we trooped through the open door. Inside was a dimly lit reception area with a concierge sitting behind a sumptuous leather top desk. To the left we could hear music and conversation coming from a hidden loudspeaker system. Pierre spoke to the concierge and, smiling, she pressed a small button on the wall behind her. After a few moments a lounge suited man appeared from the right corridor and beckoned us to follow. Like lambs we did so. On reaching a leather padded door we stopped while suit man picked up a telephone and spoke animatedly into it. There was an electrical buzz and the door, some 100mm thick, swung outwards and we followed him inside. We were in a dimly lit lobby at the top of a winding staircase. As we watched the door shut the staircase was suddenly bathed in soft fluorescent light. Down we went; down over 200 steps, until we were arrested at the bottom by another leather-padded door. More telephoning, more buzzing, then we all filed through the door. I then stopped in my tracks.

Gone was the austerity of the stairs, here was luxury. Around the raised circular podium, all decorated with chiffon and flowers, were leather chaise-longes sunk into the sumptuous carpet. From hidden loudspeakers came the sweet sound of soft music, Richard Clayderman I think. In a semicircle was a bar, fully stocked and almost entirely mirrored, whilst the barman, or in this case bargirl as was very obvious, stood ready to serve us. We were not alone for there were about thirty others sitting around talking, laughing and drinking. There were a spread of ages from mid twenties to early fifties but, in the main, the females were younger. Suit directed us to a large table close to the podium and beckoned the bargirl over. As she left the confines of the bar we saw that she was nude. She was also ravishingly beautiful. Slim with lightly tanned skin, her firm breasts gently bounced as she moved slinkily toward us. The dusky pink nipples pointed upwards and slightly outwards. Her flat belly topped a delicious triangle of auburn fur in her groin. As the distance between us closed I could see that the pubic hair was tightly curled and trimmed so that her exquisite slit was obvious even to the casual observer; and we were certainly not casual observers! She greeted us and the smell of her was spicy and exciting. She gathered our orders, her pert tits bouncing gently as she bent close. Pierre had a massive hard on and he tried to ease it in his trousers. The bargirl saw him and spoke to him, "Non, monsieur," she said with a wicked smile, "that is my job. Let me make you feel more comfortable." With that she put down her tray and knelt beside Marcel.

With deft precision she opened his fly and drew out his enormous erection. Without ceremony she began to wank the foreskin to and fro concentrating on the bubbling stream of fluid that spread, shining over her ministering fingers. Marcel lay back, not touching this voluptuous angel, as she briskly masturbated him. Others were watching the action and at least one other couple copied.
"Here it comes!" growled Pierre as he thrust his pelvis upwards. The girl continued to stimulate him, stroking her finger over the slippery tip, until a gush of fluid spurted from the end. Her left hand moved rapidly and encased the head in a large tissue she had been holding. Her right hand still gently squeezed the throbbing, florid rod as he filled the tissue with slippery cream. With a gasp he put his hand to hers to stop the stroking. She skilfully took the sopping tissue away, gently wiping the glistening peak as she did. He wiped the remainder of the come from his softening prick and the bargirl kissed it fully on the tip before slinking off to the bar once more.

"Merci mademoiselle." he called after her slipping the now satiated organ out of sight. The girl returned shortly, smiling with our drinks. After putting them on our table she hesitated for a moment and looked at us all. I think all the male members of our party were erect, except Pierre of course. I was aching for a shoot and I could feel the dampness spreading from the excited prick. I caught her eye and stroked the mound in my trousers while suggestively licking my lips, "Sucer, mademoiselle?" I suggested. She grinned widely, nodded and ran her pink tongue around her wet lips. I sat on the edge of the settee and opened my legs. The nubile youngster knelt between them and nuzzled her face into my groin feeling up and down the full length of my hard meat. After what seemed an age but was, in fact no more than 30 seconds, she found the zip and slowly eased it down. As the opening grew she nuzzled her nose and lips into the gap kissing and buffeting the massive tip. She could see, feel and smell the secretions and her sensual actions made them more profuse than ever. Like a teenager I could feel myself aching to let go. The young girl sensed my urgency and deftly opened my fly fully and eased the elastic over my streaming cockhead. The massive, lubricant slicked head thrust out about 10cm from her parted lips. She pressed a kiss onto the bulbous, pulsating end and an abundance of warm moisture surged from the opening in the blunt tip, coating her lips and dripping sluggishly down the firm shaft.

"Suck it," I growled, gripping the base and directing the purple head at her inviting mouth, "take it into your mouth before I shoot off in your hand."

She got the message in one. Putting her tiny hand around the firm base she opened her lips to form an "O" and guided the aching knob onto her probing tongue. She gripped my penis with her lips and sucked and rolled it in and out of her mouth. I could feel her tongue swilling around the leaking head, tasting the lubricant that flowed freely from the near climaxing prick. Her right hand squeezed and rubbed me while her lips stimulated the tingling end. I slid my hands behind her blonde, bobbing head and gently pulled her to me pushing my shaft deep into her throat. "Here it comes!" I squealed as it began to violently throb, sending sticky semen surging over her tongue. She drew hard on it taking the maleness into her. Even so some dribbled out and bubbled in the corners of her mouth as my come flowed very copiously indeed. With my hands on either side of her head I gently shafted her sweet mouth as her hand tenderly stroked the trembling penis. Much as I wanted the terrific sensations to continue, the ejaculations eased and I began to soften. I pushed her head away and the shiny, slippery head, still dripping creamy semen, flopped from her lips and smeared her chin with juice.

Her tongue lashed out to catch the dying drops and she licked her glistening lips in a highly suggestive manner. "Merci monsieur." she smiled as she stood up and wiped the spunk from her cheeks. She trotted off and I eased my now satiated penis into my trousers. Looking around I could see at least two other couples similarly employed. To our right was a youngish couple, mid twenties I should guess and she was really slurping on his meat. He had his hands inside her blouse while she was swinging on his slim cock. He was not well endowed but she was making good use of what he possessed. To our left was a black couple really hooked on the oral kick. Her tits were out for all to see with her partner’s hands milking them. On her part she was getting as much of his prick into her mouth as she could. Trouble was that she was rather petite and he was hung like a bull. He must have had at least twenty-three centimetres and it was like a baseball bat. Her mouth just contained the head and a little below it while her hand was frantically milking the rest of his jet-black pole. We watched as he began to grunt and push his hips toward her. We all knew the signs, so did the woman. She perched on the end of the monster and prepared herself. He grunted and then, with a wide-open mouth and tightly closed eyes, he began to shudder. The woman gurgled as puddles of thick cream slopped from her lips as he shot off. After about five seconds the girl pulled off, grey sperm dribbling from her lips, and pulled at the still rigid pole with her hand. The man gave a deep-throated groan as gouts of glistening seed spewed from the black, sleek, helmet-like head. The girls face was a picture of concentration as she milked the ebony staff that was pulsing in her hand letting the sap drip lethargically over her shuttling fingers vividly contrasted against the black skin. Suddenly it was over, she released the meat and sat down on her chair. Her partner cleaned the now redundant semen from his still impressive penis while she wiped her face and chin and swilled a glass of wine. A young girl appeared and mopped up the few drops that had sprayed onto the floor as if this was a normal practice; perhaps it was. The music faded as did the lights and a blue-white spotlight pinpointed a man on the raised dais. He spoke in French, "Mesdames et Monsieurs. Welcome to the Le Petite Verre cabaret. Tonight, as on every cabaret occasion, the audience will form part of the performance from time to time." He grinned widely and continued, "For the first time in Le Petite Verre we are proud to present Mme Latour, M Latour, Phillipe Latour and Celeste Latour. Mesdames et Monsieurs, la famille Latour."

The spotlight extinguished to be replaced by four, softer, semi-floods picking out the people on the stage. From where we were sitting it certainly looked like a family. Mme and M Latour were probably in their late thirties, she was about five feet two, blonde and with a very lithe but desirable figure while he was over six feet, auburn haired and looking very fit. They were both dressed in evening wear and would pass muster at any occasion. Phillipe and Celeste were about sixteen and fourteen respectively. Phillipe was a younger version of his father, tall and muscular. Celeste was 'tres petite’; her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders while her blouse was well thrust out with perfectly proportioned breasts. The parents approached each other while the children stood to one side but still in view. They kissed and we could see her hand caressing his groin. He groped at her pubis and her breasts until it was clear that he had the makings of a mighty erection. Pulling apart Mme Latour deftly unzipped her husband and released his penis to the world. He was uncircumcised and some sixteen centimetres long. Getting down on her knees she took the meat into her hand and began to kiss and suck it. While she was slurping on the curving knob the two children moved closer as if to watch. M Latour eased himself fully out of his trousers and thrust his stiffness into his wife’s mouth, which she appeared to enjoy immensely. As the two children watched she deliberately let the tip slip from her mouth and we could all see the glistening fluid over the head. It disappeared again as she fellated him avidly. Phillipe was rubbing his groin and then he pulled out his own prick. He was young and firm, slim and uncircumcised and, from this distance, a little damp already. Celeste pretended to be shocked but soon she was looking closely at her brother’s organ.

He said something to her and she shook her head. He gripped her shoulders and pushed her down so that her face was level with the tip. Taking it in one hand he wiped it gently around her cheeks and lips until she kissed it gently. Pulling the foreskin back he pressed it against her lips until she took the swollen head into her mouth. The parents now stopped their oral sex to look at their offspring. Mme Latour gently unbuttoned Celeste's blouse and loosened the white bra. M Latour, his cock still rigid and dripping, crouched down and began to milk the beautiful breasts of his daughter. Mme Latour removed her bra and thrust her tits at her son. He had a short fuse! In the light of the spot we watched as Celeste's head jerked back and her throat began to work overtime. Abruptly the sculptured head, with its upturned tip, slid clear of her mouth and we could all clearly see the pearly drops of his semen pouring out in glistening globules over her soft cheeks and lazily dropping in glutinous masses onto her tip-tilted breasts and down the cleavage. Phillipe took hold of his jetting penis and worked the loose skin firmly to and fro whilst pressing the flowing tip against his sister’s soft cheek. The rivulets of his semen over her skin were clear and glistening as he continued to pump his cream out. After what seemed an eternity Phillipe pulled away as his prick began to droop and his sister's tongue flicked out and lapped at the slippery helmet and removed the last drops of his sap. By this time Mme Latour had taken it upon herself to remove Celeste's skirt and panties. Her belly was slightly puffed with puppy fat but she was definitely all feminine. Her sex fur was on the blonde side of light auburn and looked sparse. Her slit was still slim like a child’s but, despite looks, it was definitely inviting. Mme Latour's fingers parted the sweet gash and we could see the soft inner flesh, sweaty with her excitement. Her brother, now with soft penis knelt down to kiss and suck the delightful valley whilst Mme Latour restored her husband to his full erection. Then, taking one arm and one leg each, Mme and Phillipe lifted Celeste and lowered her until her parted thighs and soft fur rested on the wickedly fat tip of M Latour. He gripped his gristle and wiped it up and down the little crack until, with a slight nod of the head, he pushed up and the others bore down slightly. The little slot parted and the first two centimetres disappeared into his daughter. The baby lips opened wide to contain the monster and soon four out of his eight inches were embedded in her pube.