Insatiable

Once they start having sex, Bertie finds that Jeeves is…insatiable. NSFW

“Jeeves, would you…kindly step away a bit?”

“Sir?” Jeeves remained where he was, impassive as is his wont. Except for his Rock of Gibraltar pressed firmly against my back whilst I sat at the piano. Not that I didn’t enjoy having his Rock of Gibraltar pressed firmly against my back, but I was dashed exhausted and —

Blast, I’ve done it again. Started in the middle, leaving my readers baffled as to why Bertram’s valet was using his prick as a back-scratcher and Bertram too fatigued to appreciate what to many would seem a gift from the heavens above.

Jeeves and I had recently reached an understanding — a gentlemen’s agreement — an — the hell with it, we’d been making the beast with two backs for two weeks now. Ever since Jeeves noticed that my own stiff-stander was very stiff indeed while he was doing up my cufflinks. We had tumbled into bed, years of repression gone to merry hell as Jeeves tore my clothes off with an avidity that astonished and pleased me. Jeeves was large, pink, and quite well built, made for the Wooster hands to grasp and stroke and the Wooster mouth to lick, kiss and bite. His prick was the biggest I’d seen since my Oxford days. (We don’t need to go into that.) Jeeves was a talented kisser with hands as deft at handling young Bertram’s body as they were at polishing silver. After several rounds of delightful rogering, we collapsed and slept.

Understand, I am a man in the prime of youth, with a virility few give me credit for. However, I was no match for Jeeves. From that first night, he was as a man possessed. Any hour not devoted to sexually gavotting with the young master was a waste of time, in Jeeves’s opinion (excepting, of course, his duties. But they were being performed at a pace that astonished me). I could hardly keep up! The man recovered from an orgasm in five minutes flat! He couldn’t be tired out! I’d fall asleep only to find myself being nudged awake by another enormous erection.

It wasn’t as if I wasn’t also subject to the constant fires of lust. Anyone would be if they found themselves with a delectably naked, eager Jeeves. So I would rise on the stepping stones of my dead self to higher things, which often meant buggering Jeeves again. The feel of my hard prick sliding into his hole, the sound of the slapping together of our bodies, the delicious smells and sounds, his muscular body under mine straining toward climax — well.

That first weekend we didn’t put our clothes on at all.

Then there was that first time on the kitchen table. I walked in to request a cup of tea. Almost instantly Jeeves pounced, laying me flat across the table surface. He unbuttoned my waistcoat and shirt, pulled down my vest and proceeded to suck the rose petal pink Wooster nipples! Helpless against this assault and instantly hard, I flung my legs around him. Jeeves pulled me into a sitting position and proceeded to grind against me, hair falling into his eyes, grunting in a primitive way that sent shivers through my shoulders. Our stiff-standers ground together through our wool trousers, a rough sensation that is hard to describe but that I heartily recommend. My own petit morte hit within moments, but Jeeves continued to frot against me for another ten minutes before he spent, so violently he almost pulled me off the bally table! Would you believe that I had no sooner cleaned myself and fixed my clothing when the maniac turned me around, pulled down my trousers, bent me over the table and proceeded to plow my furrow! With nary an apology!

“Were you always such a beast, Jeeves?” I asked one night as he crawled into bed with me, his eyes glittering with desire.

“I would hardly describe myself as a beast, sir,” Jeeves replied, rolling me over onto my back and grasping my prick in a large hand.

“Then — maybe — ardent?” I gasped as his attentions took effect.

He looked vaguely offended. “I have had no cause for complaint, sir,” he said. Then Jeeves proceeded to engulf my prick with his talented mouth, and I was willing to let the matter lie.

But now two weeks had passed. Whenever I sat down, my eyelids fluttered shut like butterflies who’d had a hard day at the office. Twenty-four hours a day of Swedish exercises could scarce tire one out as much.

“Jeeves, twenty-four hours a day of Swedish exercises could scarce tire one out so much,” I said to the sheet music in front of me.

The pressure against my back lessened a little. “Sir?”

I twisted my head and looked up at his finely chiseled face. “Jeeves, don’t misunderstand me. I’m as delighted as a maiden with a marital aid by the turn our relationship has taken. But one has one’s limits. And I have reached mine. My vitality has been sapped, Jeeves. Your mighty manhood might be ready at all hours of the day and night, but I’m a mere mortal. I can no longer play your organ with the passion it deserves. It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that Bertram Wooster needs a period of celibacy.”

Jeeves blanched. “Sir?” He took two steps back, releasing me from the pressure of his prick. “Celibacy, sir?”

I turned around so that I sat facing him. “Until I’ve recovered my health and well-being, Jeeves. When I am once again the Bertram Wooster of old, you may resume using me as your personal sex toy and vice versa.”

Jeeves pondered this. “Indeed, sir,” he said at last. “I have been remiss in thinking that you feel toward me as I do you — “

“No, Jeeves, no! Banish that thought from your mind! I want to lick you like a lolly. I want to bugger you like a bucking bronco. I want to frot you like a Ferris wheel. But I need a rest!”

My valet’s expression turned gentle. “Oh, sir,” he said, one hand caressing my shoulder. “I didn’t know. I should have been more sensitive to your health.” He paused and took a deep breath. “How long a period of celibacy, sir?”

I could see the man was fighting to control himself. But should I waver, should I give in, I’d be bent over the piano faster than you could say Cock Robinson. “A week, perhaps?” I quavered.

His eyes widened. “A week, sir?”

“A week, Jeeves. And I shall need to sleep alone for the duration.”

He released my shoulder with a deep sigh. “Very good, sir. Would you care for a cocktail?”

I almost fell off the piano bench with relief. “Brandy and soda, Jeeves, not all the soda. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, sir,” Jeeves said in a tone that implied the opposite.

Well, as it turned out, three days was all I could stand of this enforced celibacy. On the fourth morning, I burst into Jeeves’s lair, unbuttoned his pajamas, threw myself upon him and subjected him to activities that left him tired out for an entire afternoon.