"The Chronicles of Lord Dashwood" I look over and see Lord Dashwood, he is naked and admiring himself in the large mirror that fills the wall of this private ante room. He turns sideways to the mirror; his head turned away from me as he flexes his firm muscles and admires his profile. I pull my gaze from him and look over to Doktor Miles. His nakedness lacks the grandeur of Lord Dashwood’s chiselled physique, an abundance of good living clearly taking its toll. Doktor Miles was particularly partial to Swan, free range Elephant sourced from the Dark Continent, copious amounts of fine port, and these days his only exercise took the form of whatever diversions he could entice from the other club members. OK, that is a little unfair. As one of the three founding members, whilst in this club the Doktor doesn’t need to entice anyone onto his fine appendage. His position within our hierarchy entitles him to plunder the charms of all the other “apprentices”, which is just as well, as outside these walls his bachelor lifestyle is more a condition of circumstance rather than a choice. It was three years ago when I first met them. As any gentleman of standing will tell you, a lot can happen in three years, but I never thought the journey I would take would lead me here. I look down at my own nakedness, the feelings of inadequacy I had three years ago a distant memory. I remembered our first time naked together, how both Lord Dashwood and I gasped as loud as a maiden who had just met her first foreigner, when the Doktor first unveiled his magnificent tool. Long and broad, it looked out of proportion on his small portly frame. If Lord Dashwood’s pride had been dented by this display, it was difficult to tell. Under his well groomed moustache his upper lip remained stoic when it transpired he sported the smallest of our three phallic heroes. Oh, both the Doktor and I had bigger guns, but Lord Dashwood soon proved he could out shoot us both, often hitting targets we missed, and his ability to reload and fire again so quickly was an accolade soon added to his reputation. I remembered the first time I witnessed his marksmanship skills first hand. It was while the club was still being built, and Lord Dashwood invited us down to Kent. Before his foray into the untamed lands where the foreigners still rebelled against our great Empire, he had been an airship commander in the Navy. Although he had left the service over 5 years prior, he still had contacts who served, sailing the skies of the Empire. One such acquaintance was a splendid specimen of womanhood. Captain Jane Carlton-Smith, second in command on the HMS Aked, a destroyer class airship which happened to be moored in the Kent dock yards for a refit. Captain Carlton-Smith was slender, almost athletic, save for the swell of her chest held tightly captive under the tan leather of her tunic. I could tell that a career in the Navy was well suited to her, as with her plain looks, a place in London’s society would not have been easy. She was not ugly, but nothing of note would have turned a gentleman’s head at anything other than a masked ball. Lord Dashwood introduced us to Captain Carlton-Smith over brandy and cigars in the wardroom. I must admit to being slightly taken aback at not only the fairer sex being in the wardroom, but also how she handled the fine Cuban with the skill equal of any male officer of the line. The way she drew in on the fat roll of South American leaves, her bosom heaving as she filled her lungs with the fine smoke, was clearly a signal that neither the Doktor nor I dared act upon. Our erstwhile college, Lord Dashwood however dallied for not a minute. He swept her up in his arms, passionately kissing her, devouring her submission from her soft lips under the might of his finally waxed moustache. The Doktor and I shuffled uncomfortably whilst they kissed, until they finally split from their embrace. However, it was not as I at first suspected, to regain some composure. No, for Captain Carlton-Smith it was to draw deeply on her Cuban and finish off her Brandy. Lord Dashwood used the time to run his fingers over his moustache, ensuring it remained well groomed after the abrasion the airship Captain ardently inflicted upon him. “Come Gentlemen.” The captain had finished her brandy and addressed us all. She drew in another deep lungful of smoke, before seductively exhaling her heady mist over us. I tried to meet her gaze, but was drawn to the swell of her bosom as it rose and fell. “I have a fire burning deep within me, and in the many months away from my England I have tried to quench that fire” she said firmly. Lord Dashwood gently ran his hand up and down her skirts, his eyes studying her intently. “I’m sure you had your crew attempt to douse those flames on your long voyages” he said. “Of course, I am the Captain after all. But the rank and file have no breeding, and lack the social skills needed to fully sait my need. Oh, they had an abundance of enthusiasm, and stamina, and...” The Captain trailed off, lost in her memory of some sordid orgy upon her airship. “And?” the Doktor enquired. Captain Carlton-Smith opened her eyes, and smiled at the Doktor. “And they do have a rather amazing ability to follow orders” she muttered as Lord Dashwood stepped away from her and rejoined the Doktor and I at the edge of the room. “Gentlemen, clearly Captain Carlton-Smith needs the help of three of England’s finest, in order to extinguish the flames of desire that burn tirelessly within her. And furthermore” he added with a theatrical flourish “I believe, we are such gentlemen!” And with that, he stepped forward and began to remove his clothes. Unsure what the correct etiquette was at this moment, I looked over to the Doktor, who it seemed had decided the correct etiquette was to also undress and assist Lord Dashwood in removing the vestiges of modesty from the airship captain. Lord Dashwood’s deft fingers manipulated her leather jerkin from her whilst the Doktor eased down her skirts, both garments discarded on the floor. I can’t recall my state of mind, or any clarity of thought of that time, only that I found myself behind the Captain, slowly unthreading the lace on her corset whilst taking in the tanned skin of her undraped shoulders. The Captain let out a gasp, throwing her head backwards, the aroma of her glossy hair over powering my senses. I looked down at her face, contorted in pleasures I did not know women in such circumstances would enjoy. She gasped yet again, and reluctantly I forced my gaze from her face down past the heaving globes of her bosom to the top of the Doktor’s head. At some point the Doktor had removed the Captain’s bloomers and dropped onto his knees, and I surmised was administrating ministrations to her honey in a way I had only ever seen street tarts perform on men. Lord Dashwood had retreated a step, and hastily discarded his attire. His frock coat, gold boroc waist coat and shirt lay crumpled at his feet. He had not fully removed his britches before he attempted to return to attend to the Captain’s growing needs, and stumbled like a youth in his first brothel! As I finally eased enough of the corset’s lace to enable its removal, Lord Dashwood began to massage the swells of her heaving breasts in his eager hands. My hands began to work on my clothing with no conscious effort from my distracted mind. As I watched Lord Dashwood break from his kiss with the Captain, and the look of empty longing in her eyes, I found myself naked. The Captain regained some of her composure and authority, and led Lord Dashwood over to the leather covered couch. Silently she turned her back on her charge, and knelt down over the back of the couch, exposing her peachy seat to us all. Lord Dashwood slowly began stroking his iron stiff rod mere inches away from Carlton-Smiths’s slicken lower lips. Without stealing a look backwards she spoke to Dashwood. "Sait my desire Sir. Fill my cunt like I am a lowly maid." "By God yes" Dashwood replied in a voice thick with lust. He positioned the tip of his straining member at the airship Captain’s glistening opening. "I bet that feels good doesn't it?" he teased. "Oh God…. Oh God Yes." She responded quivering in desire. Without warning Lord Dashwood forcefully plunged his lust into Carlton-Smith. Her pleasure engulfed her immediately, screaming out in her violation. "Oh my Lord, yes," she cried as her body went into a rolling spasm of orgasmic pleasure. Lord Dashwood began ploughing in and out of her furrow. I watched transfixed as his buttocks clenched and relaxed as he reamed his woman hard. Carlton-Smith reached back between her legs and grasped his balls gently and began to rub them. "The whore responds to your masterful abuse of her cunny", the Doktor encouraged. "See her wetness. I do declare she has spent already" he chided, whilst gently stroking his own powerfully looking member. Captain Carlton-Smith was rolling from one orgasm to the next and Lord Dashwood was grunting with each thrust and he seemed to race toward his own release. The Captain pushed gently on his balls increasing the intensity of his pleasure. My own trooper was spasming in my hand. So caught up in the events being played out in this ward room, I had yet again not consciously noticed I was administering such pleasures to myself. I slowed the tempo of my strokes to prevent a sticky end to activities, for me at least. I now knew I wanted to fuck the Captain, and part of me was curious as to how that would play out. My own role in this debauchery was still uncertain and I was equally uncertain about what I would allow to happen. The only thing that I was certain about was that at some point I wanted to feel the flesh of this wanton harlot on my throbbing rod. Suddenly Lord Dashwood grunted and I recognized the tell tale loss of control that signalled his orgasm. “By Christ, I’m spending!” he cried as he ploughed with slow long deliberate strokes. This went on for about 15 seconds until he collapsed on top of the Captain. Both were heaving and panting in post orgasmic exhaustion. The Doktor, clearly impatient let Lord Dashwood have a brief moment of rest before pulling him back from Carlton-Smith. His semi flaccid tool slid out of her and Carlton-Smith groaned at its absence. I watched Carlton-Smith as her large breasts shook across her chest, her dark nipples erect, her full lips open, her eyes rolled up in pleasure. I then looked down at her thin, long back, her fundament exposed, her hair hanging loosely to the side of her head. She was panting heavily. “Next” she commanded as Lord Dashwood poured himself a brandy. The Doktor willingly moved forward. I was not about to deny him this moment. He took up a position behind the Captain much like Lord Dashwood had done. Her cunny was slick and angry. Her nether lips puffy and flushed, crimson like the blush of a virgin. That hot pot of honey was absolutely covered in a mixture of Lord Dashwood and her own secretions. She was trembling from the intensity of her own orgasms that still had not fully run their course through her body. Oh yes, how I remembered that time. It seemed so long ago despite the passing of only three summers, that first night with the Airship Captain.