After The Party

Once Professor Van Zaadvocht had unloaded onto the smiling, upturned face of Penelope, he staggered backwards to plop down on the couch. He watched the two remaining men frantically pumping their cocks, working up their sperm-tributes to their kneeling, spunk-faced hostess.

Penelope’s squeal of happy excitement joined in with the rumbling groans of the naked man standing over her when his orgasm hit him. Thick globs of gooey gunk splattered across her sperm drenched features. She reached up with one hand, caressing his tight nut-sack, as if coaxing out every last globule of splooge onto her expectant face. Waiting with breathless anticipation of more of her sought-after man-sauce.

When the man stumbled away from Penelope after dumping his load onto her, Van Zaadvocht heaved himself up from the sofa. He started dressing, as the others were doing. A couple had even finished the procedure and were standing off to the side, watching the final scenes of the performance. For some reason, the Professor thought of Troy. Not of the face that had launched a thousand ships (or, in this case, received a half-dozen loads), but of the historical city. Or cities. Each one built on the ruins of the others. Penelope’s face was layered like that. One ejaculation atop of another.

Penelope’s giggles drowned out the last-man-standing's grunts and moans. Her face was radiating happiness from beneath the multiple coatings of cum.

Two fully clothed men approached her when the last donor retreated. One offered his hands to help her up. Which she needed. She had been at it for almost an hour and was a bit wobbly when she stood. She nearly lost her balance as she rose, but the man assisting her grabbed her forearms and steadied her. Giving her support. The second man retrieved her discarded robe and held it for her as she slid her arms inside the sleeves.

“Whew!” she panted as she tried to catch her breath. “That... that was quite a showing. I want to thank… thank all of you Gentleman for... for participating!”

“Our pleasure, Penelope,” one man replied, and another started clapping. Penelope just grinned and looked down, shaking her head as all the men stood around her in a circle. Applauding.

Once all the men were dressed, and Penelope had located her high-heels (they had come off sometime in the midst of the group blowjob), goodbyes were said as each guest took leave of his hostess. Unlike the polite nods of his arrival, the men all shook Van Zaadvocht’s hand and said things like, “Glad you joined us”, “It was great to meet you”, and “Hope to see you again.”

The Professor was about to depart as well, but Penelope put her hand on his arm and said, “Stick around, Abe… You probably have some questions.”

Which he did. So, he parked himself once more on the couch and waited. As soon as the last man had left, Penelope joined Van Zaadvocht on the sofa, curling her legs up under her and sitting at an angle to face him. She demurely arranged her robe to cover her legs, although she had not wiped the sperm from her face.

“I did not tell you what was going to happen this evening when I invited you,” she said. “I was afraid it might scare you off. And even after you arrived, I wasn’t sure if you would take part.”

Her hand sought his, entwining her fingers with his fingers. “I’m glad you did.”

“So am I,” Van Zaadvocht replied.

“Now… a bit of explanation,” she began.

“You don’t have to explain,” he interrupted.

“Yes, I do,” she continued. “I am a book editor. Each year I have to read dozens… no, hundreds… of manuscripts. Searching for just the right one that fits the company’s profile. The type of book that we publish… And then, when I find one, if the senior editorial board approves of my selection, I have to work with the author to get the manuscript into shape.” She chuckled. “You would not believe the amount of baby-sitting that goes on in getting a book to the printers.”

“That does not leave me much time for a social life,” Penelope shrugged. “But I like men.”

“Obviously,” Van Zaadvocht responded. But he said it with a smile so that she would know the remark was not intended as a criticism.

Penelope sniggered. “Which means I cannot expect exclusivity from a man. I can’t offer him enough of my time to be a… steady girlfriend… I sound like a teenager now,” she critiqued her own words. Once an editor; always an editor. “And I don’t want to just ‘hook-up’ with some random stranger and end up with my head banged in and lying face-down in some gutter.”

“So you do this?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, no!” she laughed. “I just have these parties once in a while. Sort of like a monthly meeting.”

Strange how the corporate mind-set affects an individual’s personal actions. “Normally it is a one-on-one encounter. Depending on when I get a free moment and the other person’s availability.”

“Like a stable of… talent?” Van Zaadvocht asked.

“Yesss,” Penelope answered as a wide smile spread across her face. Her face that glistened. Reflecting the light from the dried sperm on her skin. “I like that term. A stable of stallions.”

“Now this is not meant as opposition,” he told her. “Not mean as opposition at all… But why me? Where do I fit in? Aren’t six… stallions… sufficient?”

“Hmm,” she nodded. “They are. But there is something, oh, I don’t know… magical… about the number seven. Lucky seven. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Seven days a week. Double oh seven. Seven wonders of the world.”

“Seven hills of Rome,” Van Zaadvocht added.

Penelope nodded in agreement and reached up with her free hand to stroke the side of his face. “As for why you… You are handsome, intelligent, urbane…” She gave a coy smile and glanced down at his lap before lifting her eyes back to his face. “And you can deliver the goods.”

Van Zaadvocht laughed at that. “Fair enough.”

“Now remember,” she said with a serious look. “I can’t give you much time. Can’t go away on vacations or weekend getaways. The concert last night was a rarity… So I do not expect you to be… committed… to me. Date others. Form relationships. I won’t be able to see you all that often.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Take a day or two to consider. And if you are not interested…” She shrugged. “I won’t take it personally. You do not have to worry about hurting my feelings or anything.”

Like Penelope, Van Zaadvocht also lived in a corporate world. That of a University. He had attended enough meetings to recognize when one was being adjourned. Rising to his feet, he nodded down at her. “I would kiss you but…”

“Oh, I know!” she sang out, waving in the air with both hands. Making a fanning motion. “I am a total mess!”

“That you are,” he replied, grinning from ear-to-ear. Her hair was disheveled, her mascara smeared, her face caked with dried sperm. “I have never seen a woman more wrecked.” He bent over from the waist, reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips. “Or one more lovely.”

As he departed the room and exited the house, he wondered what Odysseus would do.