Gentleman’s…
More than just a valet.
I hate cum. I love cum.
When Bunty and her ‘girls’ have been in the ‘stable room’ having a party and there’s cum everywhere, I hate it. Have you ever tried to get sperm (wet or dry) out of velvet?
I’m Bunty’s valet (officially he’s Bertram, the Lord Stamford) so it’s my role to clear up after him. To make sure he’s dressed accurately in the right clothes at events, to put his stuff away, to keep everything clean.
I think of him (her) as Bunty because he and his little group of friends all refer to each other (out of earshot of everyone else) as ‘she’ and have feminine nicknames. Edward = Edna, Douglas = Doris, Montagu = Mable, George = Gertie. The only one who doesn’t have a woman’s name is Duncan, or Beaky, which might be because he has a big nose and/or because he has a big penis.
I’m never quite sure whether Bunty regards my receiving his cock in my arse as his entitlement as my employer (maybe he thinks it’s a hereditary thing, as my father was his father’s valet, too).
Occasionally, he likes me to shove my dick into his bottom, although that happens far less frequently, but he apparently regards it as his right.
I love cum. When seed is leaking out of my arsehole and running down my legs, I love cum.
I also love it when I’m sucking my own out of a rectum I’ve just juiced into, when I’m filling a rear end with it, when I’m licking it up off someone I’ve just sprayed, when I’m swallowing a load or when I’m covered in it.
Bunty likes to take me from behind… on my hands and knees with him kneeling behind and his not inconsiderable length moving in and out, tantalising my muscles (both my ring piece and further down my channel). “I say, Thomas!”
Or there’s what I think of as horse riding, when he squats over me (I’m again on all fours), repeatedly filling my arse with his circumcised dick but from a higher angle. “Top hole!” Anyway, it really feels good.
Then there’s the basic bend: just standing and leaning forward while he shafts me from behind, his hands using my hips to give him extra purchase and position my buttocks and the hole between them just as he wants. “F(Ph)uck!”
Finally, there’s on his bed: I just flop forward onto my chest and let it take my weight, so there’s no tension involved in keeping myself upright. “You’re the bee’s knees!”
He particularly seems to enjoy shagging me when he’s wearing his kilt (I think he thinks traditional highland dress is more masculine but he’s got spindly little legs and no calves, so he doesn’t look nearly so butch as he imagines).
Speaking of horses: there’s a kind of folklore about the aristocracy and their stable boys, but I’m Bunty’s main shag.
Which is not to say that the equine staff here at Stamford House (John, Fred and William) don’t bend over at regular intervals. Even Seth, who’s old, flabby, and ugly (certainly not the kind of man you’d choose for a roll in the hay) can make your eyeballs roll back when he’s inside you or do things with his anal muscles that make your cock feel remarkable.
I don’t get to participate in the ‘stable’ parties often... I’ve reasoned that’s because Bunty fucks me most days and he wants, when they’re happening, a bit of variety and a ‘change of scene’.
I didn’t get invited to the Thursday night party, which was OK because it gave me time to recover and sort out his Lordship's clothes after the big event.
Bunty and some of the other 'girls' went up to the Abbey, in their once-in-a-lifetime finery, for Elizabeth II's coronation on the Tuesday. Then afterwards, they all travelled up to Stamford House for a few days of revels. The 'girls' had a ‘stable’ party on the Thursday evening. As usual, it fell to me (mainly) to clear up after. The instructions, though, were different this time... tidy up first and then prepare the room for an even bigger party on the Saturday evening, one to which I and the other valets... and one or two others... were invited... a naked masquerade!
I’d played with almost everyone at the event before but it was nice to reconnect... to feel them push their cocks into my arse and to shove my own into them.
Then 'Dafydd' arrives and the atmosphere changes.
'Dafydd' seems to promote and enjoy a deference that his physicality doesn’t warrant.
He is fairly average body-wise. If you’re being unkind you'll say ‘lithe’. Nothing to write home about.
His blond hair is parted, as is fashionable, and tufts stick out round his full-face mask. Behind the eye holes, his blue eyes dart around, as if he is waiting to be recognised.
His cock is unremarkable. Circumcised and average.
Yet, everyone wants his attention: the 'girls', the valets and the handful of other guests. As the evening progresses it becomes noticeable that even the (normally) tops are ready to bend over for 'Dafydd'.
It’s odd, because it seems clear that although he fucks every arse that is presented to him (in any position) he really wants, as far as I can observe, to take dicks up his own passage.
When my turn comes, I do what he seems to want. I suck his dick into my mouth, working it with my tongue, then switch to his right nipple, teasing it first with closed lips, my nose, my chin bristles (such as they are) and then with my mouth and tongue.
Then, it’s back on my knees and back to his dick, this time playing with it with my lips, tongue, teeth and throat. I take his six-inch but slender member in my throat several times briefly between teasing his shaft.
He really loves it when I get a bit rough with his left nipple, biting it, sucking hard on it, tweaking it sharply between my fingers and then laving it with my saliva.
When I let the tip of my tongue tickle his little round target he gets quite vocal. I've ‘set' him on his back and pushed his knees up towards his chest, so he has nothing to hide, even if he wants to.
He gurgles as I tease his hole and gasps as I use my teeth to gnaw gently at his anal lips. Gradually, his little ring of muscles loosens and the folds of flesh release a little. His "Oh, I say!" is definitely different from what I mostly hear when I rim a man and makes me smile, which again gives him a different sensation.
He becomes non-verbal as I paint his crack with broad swipes, resorting to grunts and moans until, quite suddenly, he spits out: "For God's sake! Fuck me!"
So I do.
I line up on his pucker and push my helmet through it, seeking out the eyes in the full-face mask's eye-holes and waiting for the tension around them and the pain within them to fade away. When it does and I begin to slowly push my length into his hole, those eyes begin to twinkle. With each stroke, the brightness shines a bit more.
Dafydd is tight but, judging by the way he hooks his ankles behind my back, he’s used to being fucked. "Go on, Thomas" "Ride me like a pony!" "Go on, boy!"
His mouth morphs into a grin and he clearly loves the feel of my shaft massaging his channel.
I feel movement behind me and look back to find Beaky, who reaches down and plays with my entrance. He rubs his nib against it, clearly making ready to push it into me.
All around me, men are on their knees, on their backs, and penises are disappearing into other men and reappearing at every speed imaginable.
Dafydd switches, unhooking his ankles, so I can hold his feet as Beaky spears me.
I rock my hips, alternately filling Dafydd's passage and then sliding Beaky into my own. Dafydd really seems to enjoy the strokes this creates.
I expect Beaky to last longer but soon my arse is filled with cum. That triggers me and I grimace as my juice explodes into the man on his back before me. As he takes my load, Dafydd shoots thick strings of jizz onto his own belly and chest.
As is my place, I feel it my duty to clean up, slurping up as much of his cum as I can, savouring it as it slides on to my tongue and playing with it in my mouth
The revels continue... I lose count of the number of men who shag me, the number of men I shaft and the number of men who dump their loads in me. All the time, though, a tune is going through my head: I've Danced With A Man, Who's Danced With A Girl, Who's Danced With The Prince Of Wales.
'Danced'!
This story was written as part of a Naked Men Talking Writing Workshop, in response to the prompt "Historic Cum". Copyright remains with the author - this story cannot be republished or distributed without the consent of the author.
Gareth Johnson