Dinners with Arnold

But the ladies were not to be left out of the fun. Two were facing each other and gossiping about some bitch when each felt a male head rise up between their thighs and begin licking.

“Have you heard that . . . that.”

“Oh God. Oh sweet God Almighty.”

“You mean that she . . . she . . .”

“Oh my.”

Both young men were now on final approach as their licking of one thigh followed by another, made maddeningly slow advances.

Both ladies saw what was happening to the other. But they weren’t along. The other guests paused in their sipping of soup as they looked on.

But the ladies were bent on not giving in to the other’s smearing looks. As one would struggle to utter more gossip the other would sip her soup as she looked her in the eye.

Then they would reverse. The gossip about that bitch had now of course turned into staggered bits of nonsense. But they kept on trying as the others were finishing their soup. You see, down below the kids were so well organized that they knew when to stop and leave one unfulfilled.

With a hand-pat signal both male’s tongue below reached their targets. Tongues began to work clics in harmony. This brought the gossiping to an end.

The two ladies were eye-to-eye now as they sipped their warm creamy soup between gasps for air. By damn if one was going to give in to the other and climax.

Arnold smiled at his wife at the far end of the table. She returned his knowing smile with a wink.

All could see both women begin their upward paths to climax as their mouths opened wide and they no longer made any attempt at sipping soup, yey didn’t have the ability under these circumstances to lay down their spoons. No; both were still holding them aloft.

And just like that, nothing. With a hand-pat signal both young men below broke off their engagements.

It’s always distressful to have an engagement broken. So unsatisfying.

Now lowering their spoons the two ladies looked at each other and then up and down at all the guests would were frozen in place.

Ding - ding. Ding – ding.

Ding – ding. Ding – ding.

But alas it was a house servant who answered the call.

“Are you finished, madam?”

“Finished? Are you crazy? No, I’m not finished, you fool.”

“I meant with the soup, madam.”

The college kids down below had to struggle not to laugh aloud.

They too were having their fun.

***

Next came the entries. This evening they were German. In the center of each plate was a knackwurst in a fresh, natural casing of a size and shape of a male cock with a hard on. Beneath one end of the crescent shaped wiener were two, testicle-size red potatoes. Sauerkraut lay at the base of the knackwurst cock about the testicle- potatoes like pubic hair.

From the knackwurst cock head flowed a stream of mustard which ended in a dipping pool.

As a touch of added refinement, an annular groove was cut near the end of the wiener distal the mushroom balls.

A fine Burgundy red wine had replaced the white.

“Why I think I recognize Walter here,” said one woman with a laugh as she smiled at her husband.

“So do I,” said another, who was not his spouse.
More laughter.

“I hope you have take-home boxes,” added another.

Ah; diner at Arnold’s.

And for the entries there would be no teasing or letup from down below. No, entries were to be entries both above and below the table. The main events.

“How do you like the cock, Edith,” asked Arnold.

“Quite enticing. But I would like some Grey Poupon.”

“And Alice, dear. How are the balls?”

“Quite nice and red. But shouldn’t they be shriveled?”

“Good point. I’ll ask the chef. But he can be so touchee.”

“Oooo. Oouuuu,” plead the hostess at the far end. “Is that you young Henry?”

There could only be a muffled response heard.

“Henry?”

“No it Gregory, ma’am.”

“Nice touch, Gregory. OOOOH. OOuuuuuuuu. Aaaaa.”

“Oh my.”

Just as one of the gentleman cut into his wiener right in the groove, he jerked. Something obviously had taken hold of his other wiener at about the same local.

He jolted again as he felt his entire cock become encapsulated in feminine warmth.

He sliced too hard which sent his wiener cockhead sliding off his plate and onto the plate of the lady seated to his side.

“Ralph; your cock head just popped in unannounced. When I’ll want your cock I’ll let you know.”

“Ha ha.”

“Do you have my phone number?”

That brought a few laughs. But Ralph didn’t respond. Now he was feeling the head and hair of a co-ed in his crotch who was face fucking him so hard that her mouth and nose were striking him and his pubic hair.

Ralph started panting and moving about in his chair. Then the lady to his side presented his severed wiener cock head to him, holding it daintily by her thumb and forefinger.

“Good God Almighty, woman. Can’t you see I’m . . .”

She cut him off by flipping it into his open mouth.

The face fucking continued down below without let up as Ralph struggled not to swallow his wiener cockhead while his own personal cockhead was going in and out of the throat below.

“Would you like some mustard, Ralph,” asked the lady who had done the flipping. “It’s Grey Poupon, you know.”

Ralph’s response to that quaint inquiry was to spit the wiener cockhead into the table centerpiece of flowers as he spewed forth cum down below.

“Ralph,” said his wife who was seated across from him. “One does not spit one’s cockheads at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, honey,” he replied as he sank down into his chair expecting the young lady now to withdraw. But she didn’t. Somehow she managed to retain his joint in her mouth as it withered some.

He reached down underneath the table cloth and took hold of her head. In this position though he didn’t have much leverage.

As he tried to push her off she wrapped her arms and hand around his back and held on. Guests seated nearby could see her forearms as they wrapped about him.

A struggle ensued. As he tried to push her away and off his manhood she resisted. The guests could now see a tug of war going on.

“Enough,” he whispered.

“Enough? Don’t tell me you are already finished,” asked Arnold. “The wiener is Bavarian, you know.”

Ralph gave up and raised himself back up in his seat as the co-ed continued to keep his spent ding dong in her mouth. She was acting as a savings bank. Early withdrawal would come with a penalty.

What feminine fortitude.

Ralph picked up his glass of red wine as all looked on. He discovered that sweat had formed on his forehead. He had managed only to take one sip before the creature from the deep started in again, face fucking.

Under everyone’s gaze he tried to ignore the attack and sip more wine. But then he felt himself start to harden again. So did the young lady down below as his cock swelled.

“Have you tried the sauerkraut, honey,” asked his wife with a knowing smirk.

Without attempting to frame a response he put his fork to it and took a bit.

“Very nice.”

A muffled response could be heard coming from down under.

He took another bit.

Now the co-ed was massaging his balls as she began to throat his re-hardened cock.

He couldn’t help but to respond by jerking his hips.

“I see you decided to have more, honey. And I don’t mean the kraut.”

“Screw you, Kate,” he responded as he took a death grip on the arms of his chair and began to thrust unabatedly.

“My but Ralph does enjoy the sauerkraut,” said the hostess. “I’ll certainly have to tell chef.”

And again all served witness to seeing Ralph explode into the throat of the young lady down below.

Fortunately, it was an underground explosion with no atmospheric fallout for then it was time for dessert.

***

Cherries Jubilee. The lights were dimmed and the harpist took a break.

In marched the house servants with sparklers a- sparkling. It was so impressive that few noticed the sly departure of the co-eds. The men had had their fun and now it was time for the fair sex to have theirs. To have their extra desserts.

Well, not exactly.

The four male students beneath the table found that with the departure of their female counterparts that they now had space to roam and romp. After all there were seven pussies to service as their owners ate their cherry jubilees.

So much choice.

So little time.

Half of the cherry jubilees went beside the host and hostess where they were flambéed. After serving the host and hostess each servant made it way done one aisle of diners scooping out individual portions as the sparklers sparkled on.

As each dipped a spoon into their dish the young men did likewise. Every other lady jolted as she felt a head rise up between her thighs and begin a gentle licking campaign on her thighs. The others of course couldn’t help but notice. Naturally the guest initiated small talk with those expressing adventuresome distress to add to their confusion.

“I love cherries jubilee, don’t you, Edith?”

“Ugh . . . ugh . . . . ooo . . . yes.”

“It matters not that your own cherry has long since been busted.”

“My own cherry? Oh yes. Yes.”

Now the tongue below had reached her clic.

“Oh God; yes.”

“You do recall your cherry?”

“My cherry? Oh yes YES!”

“You’re dripping.”

She took a napkin and dabbed away some vanilla on her chin.

“That’s it. Oh Yes.”

Ding ding. Ding ding. Others were demanding service.

“Oh God,” came a plea further down the line of diners. All looked to see the newcomer start down her road of coming.

“Dear; don’t feed the pets at the table,” ordered her husband sitting across from her.

“That’s quite all right,’ said the host Arnold. “They want leave a mess. They are very well trained.”

“But she might make a habit of it.”

“So you have pets at home?”

“Goddamn right. I mean yes,” said his wife who was trembling and tingling.

“YES YES YES!”

Right at that moment another woman had almost choked having taken a heaping spoonful of the liquor- laced dessert and just put it in her mouth.

“There; there,” said the gentleman seated next to her as he took her hand that was holding the just emptied spoon. The woman gasp with her mouth and eyes wide open.

“Too cold?”

“Cold? Are you crazy? Oh yes; that’s it. YES YES YES!”

“You mean another spoonful?”

“SHUT UP.”

“Shut up? But it’s clear you’re having a jubilee.”

“Praise Jesus.”

Ding ding. Ding ding. Service, damn it. I need servicing before it melts.”

On the opposite side of the table a woman had just put a cherry to her lips, holding it by its stem, when lips down below encased her clit. By reflex action her hands jumped forward leaving all to see her facial expression of shock with the cherry still lodged in her puckered lips with its stem dangling out.

While still encasing her clit with the young man’s lips he began licking it like a dog lapping a bowl of water. In response to each upward lip the woman’s head with jilt upwards with the cherry still lodged in her puckered lips and her eyes wide open.

As opposed to the others, she was speechless. Speechless until one fateful lick to her clip sent the cherry a- flying as if shot from a cannon.

And so it went until all of the women had had their turn and met their fate.

Ah to be invited to dine with Arnold. Always such a Devine, devilish delight.