Richly appointed in silk robe and slippers, with only boxer shorts underneath, George eyed his friends' apparel dubiously while he walked around the large oak table and refilled their wine glasses.  He wasn't normally known for making such servile gestures around his companions, but in fact the serving of the wine had a typically selfish motive:  it was laced with a rare berry extract of Thai origin, reputed to boost both sexual desire and endurance.  His youthful friends probably didn't need it, but he figured it couldn't hurt.<br/><br/>(In fact, there<em>was </em>a small possibility the extract could induce a massive sudden heart attack ... but that wasn't<em>likely</em>.  Besides, George figured, what they didn't know ...)<br/><br/>"The first matter of importance, gentlemen, will be our attire.  We'll be getting down to business shortly after the ladies arrive, so there's no need for the formal -- or<em>informal </em>-- outfits," he said, sneering with emphasis as a bit of a jab toward his more casually dressed colleague.  "You'll both find robes similar to mine, if not<em>quite </em>as comfortable, in the bathroom down the hall, where you are free to leave your clothes -- the servants will see to them."<br/><br/>Waiting for the others to return in their robes, George looked down at his stomach and clenched and unclenched his abs.  He didn't normally invite exclusively younger men to his parties, and he was feeling momentarily self-conscious.  Smiling down at his enormous cock, though, the moment passed.<br/><br/>Once his friends reappeared, George began to wonder why the girls were taking so long.  Perhaps the servants had misinformed them about the proper timing for their arrival?  If so, they'd be summarily fired.<br/><br/>As it stood, George decided he would make at least one of the young ladies pay for making them all wait ...