Chapter Nine
David felt both excited and dazed as he walked towards the dining room along with a line of women, all freshly washed and coiffed for their exciting evening ahead. They had all worn skirts and blouses or sundresses, he noticed, and he asked Siobhan if dinners had a dress code. The Irish Gardener grinned salaciously and retorted,
“Heavens no, silly Naughty Boy. We’ve all foresworn pants for tonight because any of us who want it have free use of that adorable c**k of yours. Who needs the logistical tangle of pants or panties when a randy gorl can just go commando in order to be properly fecked with a minimum of fuss! I can hardly wait for my turn in case ye were wonderin’!”
This last jibe was accompanied by what our hero had come to regard as the customary two-handed fondling
