Frank and I

XIX

At the beginning of January I returned to London and took up my abode at my chambers, I had not seen Frances for some time; so the day after my arrival in town, I started off co pay her a visit, hoping to spend a couple of hours with her, and have a nice, quiet poke, but I was disappointed. It happened to be Frances’ “afternoon”-which I had forgotten-and when the maid ushered me into the drawing-room, I found it full of visitors of both sexes. Mrs. Markham shook hands with me in the usual conventional manner, saying a few commonplace words of welcome, and then I had to take my seat among the chattering throng, just as an ordinary visitor. I swore inwardly, for I wanted a poke badly, and Frances was looking most “fetching” at that moment, both in face and figure. She had entirely given up wearing mourning, and she was dressed in a handsome, richly-laced tea-gown, and she was by far the prettiest woman in the room.

Among the men present, there was one who appeared to pay more attention to the charming hostess, than did any of the other male visitors. He hovered about her constantly, sometimes bending down to whisper to her in a confidential way; and she was very gracious in her manner towards him.

I did not know him to speak to; but I knew that his name was Gilbert. He was a tail, good-looking man, about thirty-five years of age, with dark hair, and a long, drooping moustache-I had got light hair, and I did not wear a moustache.

I drank a cup of tea, and chatted with some people whom I knew; then, seeing that there was no chance that afternoon, of getting a quiet talk with Frances, I bade her good bye, and left her, for the first time, without as much as a kiss.

I called again next day, but she was out; however, I had an interview with Miss Martin, and while chatting with her, I made a few inquiries about Gilbert.

The governess, thinking I was merely asking for information in my capacity as Frances’ “old guardian,” told me without hesitation that they had made Mr. Gilbert’s acquaintance when at Eastbourne during the summer. She added, laughing: “I think he is in love with Mrs. Markham; he is constantly calling at the house, and he often sends her presents of flowers, and box tickets for theatres.”

“Do you think she is in love with him?” I inquired.

“I don’t know whether she is actually in love with him, or not; but she seems to be fond of his company. He is a very nice gentlemanly fellow, and he is very well-off. Mrs. Markham might do worse than marry him.”

Having got all the information I wanted out of Miss Martin; I bade her good bye, and went home to think over what I had heard.

I was not jealous; or even surprised at the news, as I had always felt certain that Frances would marry again; but I determined, at the first opportunity, to ask her to tell me exactly the state of her feelings towards Gilbert.

I did not get a chance of speaking to her on the subject for some days; as she was either out when I called, or else there were visitors in the room. However, one afternoon I managed to catch her alone, and I questioned her about Gilbert,

She seemed to be a little confused; but she told me that ever since she had been introduced to him at Eastbourne, he had paid court to her, and that latterly his attentions had become very marked.

“Do you love him? Don’t be afraid of telling me,” I said, kissing her. “I am your ‘old guardian,’ you know; and only wish for your happiness.”

“Well, Charley, I must confess that I am fond of Mr. Gilbert; and I think he wishes to marry me. If he proposes to me; I will accept him.”

Then she added: “I suppose yon are very much surprised?”

“No, I am not. I know that the man admires you, and he will probably soon ask you to be his wife. If you are sure you will be happy with him, I shall be quite satisfied co let you go.”

“But perhaps he never will ask me to marry him.”

“Then some one else will be sure to do so. A young, handsome, rich widow like you, will not be long without another offer,” I said, taking her on my knees, and putting my hands up her petticoats.

She made no objection, verbal or otherwise, so, with great delight, I laid her on the sofa, took down her dainty silk drawers, and gave her a poke. And she seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, judging by the way she bucked up and wriggled her bottom.

Time passed. I did not see much of Frances; but I often saw Miss Martin, and from her I learnt that Mrs. Markham was being ardently courted by Mr. Gilbert; so I daily expected to hear that she was engaged.

Another week went by, and then one morning, I received a note from her asking me to call at three o’clock. I went to the house at the appointed time, and found her looking rather flushed and excited, but very lovely. I thought that she had something important to tell me; and so she had, but at first she only talked about the most trivial things, and she looked so “fetching,” that I sac down beside her on the sofa and proceeded to feel her hidden charms. I squeezed her bottom, stroked her thighs, and played with the silky hair of the “spot”; then, as she only smiled, I attempted to place her in position for a poke. But she would not allow me to lay her on her back; she began to struggle, saying: “Don’t, Charley! Please don’t do that Let me go; I have something to tell you.”

I at once released her; then she sat up on the sofa and arranged her disordered petticoats, with a curious little smile on her face.

“Well, what have you got to tell me?” I asked, though I well knew what I should hear.

“Mi. Gilbert has asked me to marry him, and I have consented. I have grown to love him, and therefore I do not think I ought to let you embrace me any more. You know I have always been a faithful woman, both as a sweetheart, and as a wife. No man has ever touched me but you, and my late husband. And now I intend to be faithful to my future husband. You are not angry with me, I hope?”

“No, no,” I replied, kissing her in a fatherly manner, “I on not the least angry with you. I have no right to be. I know that you have always been true to me; and I think you are quite right to be true to the man who is going to marry you.”

She smiled, and pressed my hand. Then I asked: “When ire you going to be married?”

“In two months’ time. And I want you to do me a favour.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I want you to give me away. Everyone thinks you are my guardian.”

This was rather a startling request; but after a moment’s thought I decided to do as she wished, when the time came. As I had to give her up, I might as well give her away. So I said:

“Very well, Frances. I will give you away.”

“Oh, you dear old Charley!” she exclaimed, kissing me. “I am so happy now! I was afraid you would take the whole affair quite differently, and be cross and disagreeable. It would have made me very miserable if we had parted on bad terms. We always got on so well, when we lived together.”

“Except on the occasions when I spanked you,” I observed, smiling. “Oh, I didn’t mind the spankings much,” she said, laughing. “But I shall never forget that last birching you gave me.” Then she added in a tone of regret: “After I am married I shall never have a chance of using the rod, as Dora is to go to a boarding-school.”

“If you really wish to use the rod, you will manage to do so, somehow or other,” I observed smiling.

“Oh, I know what I shall do,” she said laughingly, but half in earnest. “I will get a nice little page boy about thirteen years old; and whenever he misbehaves I will birch him. I should like to take a boy of that age across my knees.”

“I doubt if a boy thirteen years old would let you flog him. He would most probably pull your hair down,” I said, laughing. Then I asked: “Has Miss Martin got another engagement?”

“Not yet. But I am going to look after her until she gets a really good situation. She is a dear woman, and I am very fond of her.”

Then looking at me slyly, she went on: “Do you know, Charley, that Miss Martin admires you very much? She thinks you are such a fine, handsome man. In fact, she once told me that she would like to be kissed on the lips by you,”

“Oh, indeed!” said I, with a laugh. “That is very flattering to me. But perhaps she was joking?”

“I don’t think she was. Why don’t you make love to her? You know she is a well-made woman, and you heard her say, the day I whipped her, that she would tike to feel herself b the arms of a vigorous man. Take her in your arms some day, and kiss her well. I know she is voluptuous, and I am almost certain she will let you ‘have’ her.”

“Well,” said I, laughing, “there is an old saw, which says, ‘Never kiss the maid when you can kiss the mistress.’ But as you won’t let me ‘kiss’ you any more, I may perhaps try for the governess some day. However, if she shows any coyness, I will let her alone. I won’t bother myself to regularly make love to her.”

Frances smiled, saying: “Think over what I have told you. And call on me whenever you like. I shall always be glad to see my ‘guardian.’ But,” she added with a. laugh, “he must not attempt to take any more liberties with his ward.” Then she added: “I must run away and dress, as I am going out for a drive with Arthur.”

So saying, she shook hands with me, and tripped out of the room, leaving me feeling rather forlorn. But, after all, I really had nothing to complain of. Frances had always treated me fairly; and in the present case she had acted in a perfectly straightforward manner. I went off to my club, and I played a rubber of whist; then I had a good dinner, with a bottle of champagne; and by the time I had smoked my cigar, I felt much better, and quite reconciled to the idea of Frances’ marriage. Then I began to think about Miss Martin. I had sometimes been inclined to get up an intrigue with her; but had hitherto refrained, out of a feeling of faithfulness towards Frances. But now that all was over between us, I said to myself that I would have a try at the buxom governess before she left her present situation. She had a nice face; her figure was undeniable, and she had a grand bottom.

A few days passed uneventfully; then I received a note from Frances, written b her brief style. It said:

“Dear Charley, I shall be out all day. Call at three o’clock, and ask for me as usual. Miss Martin will be at home alone. Make the attempt! I think you will succeed.

Yours, Frances.” P.S. “She knows nothing about this little plot.”

I laughed and at once made up my mind to try my luck. At three o’clock I called at the house and asked for Mrs. Markham.

The maid told me that her mistress was out, but that Miss Martin was at home. I said that I would see her, so I was shown up to the drawing-room, where I found the lady comfortably seated in an easy-chair beside the fire, reading a novel

She appeared to be glad to see me, shaking hands with me warmly, and informing me that she was all alone, as Mrs. Markham had gone out to spend the day. I feigned surprise at hearing that; then I sat down beside her and we began to chat I do not think she meant to attract my attention to her figure; but my eyes were attracted, and I thought she was looking very desirable. She was leaning back in her chair in an attitude which displayed the swelling contours of her luxuriant bosom, and the curves of her broad hips; her feet were on the fender, and she showed her neat ankles clad in black silk stockings.

After a few ordinary remarks, we began to talk about Mrs. Markham’s approaching marriage, and also about matrimony in general. Then we got upon the subject of love, free and untrammelled, and I quoted some rather erotic passages from Swinburne’s “Songs before Sunrise”; at the same time taking her hand, and squeezing it. The pressure was slightly returned. Keeping possession of her hand, I bent over and kissed her cheek. She shrank away slightly, but did not appear to be offended; so I sat down on the floor at her feet and put my left arm found her waist; then, pressing my mouth to her full red lips, I put my right hand up her petticoats and took hold of her plump leg just below the frill of her drawers. She closed her eyes, a blush rose to her cheeks, and her bosom began to flutter; but she never moved; so, thrusting my hand higher up among the flounced draperies, I opened the slit of her drawers and touched her cunt She started, and uttered a little ejaculation; then throwing one leg over the other, she gripped my hand tightly between her warm thighs; but she did not say a word. I had taken the outworks without any trouble, so I knew that I should soon occupy the fortress!

Taking her up in my arms-she was no light weight-I carried her to the sofa and laid her down upon it; then putting both my hands up her petticoats, I unfastened her drawers and palled them down to her heels. Then my hand strayed all over her most secret charms. I stroked and squeezed her great big bottom, the flesh of which was firm, and I played with the long locks of soft hair which covered the lower pan of her belly; and finally I tickled the “spot” with my forefinger. When she felt it, she squirmed, and covered her blushing face with both her hands; but she lay quite still.

I unbuttoned my trousers; raised her petticoats, stretched out her legs, and got between them; then clasping my hands under her bottom, I began to poke her. But I had actually to part with my fingers, the long, thick hair which completely hid the lips of her cunt, before I could get the weapon into the sheath.

She struggled a little, for form’s sake, exclaiming in a low tone:

“Oh, don’t! What are you doing? I won’t have it!”

However, when I had fairly got into her; she abandoned herself entirely to me, and settled down on her back.

As she had not been poked for upwards of eight years, her cunt had contracted, so that it was wonderfully tight and small, for a woman of her age.

I fucked vigorously, but as slowly as possible; and she seemed to be rather tender; for she winced a little as my big prick stretched the “spot,” which had been virgin for so long a. time. But, nevertheless, she liked the embrace; meeting my thrusts well, and heaving up her bottom in a brisk and lively way, uttering little cries of pleasure and pressing me tightly to her bosom.

When the end came, and I sent the hot stream up to her womb, she gave a squeak, and wriggled herself about under me; gasping out: “Oh! Oh! Oh! — h-h-h!” till she had received the whole of the discharge. Then she laying panting, and sighing; with her bosom palpitating against my breast, and her bottom quivering in my grasp.

I buttoned up my trousers, and she fastened up her drawers: her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were shining, and she appeared to be perfectly satisfied with what I had done to her. Throwing her arms round my neck she gave me a hot kiss, saying fervently: “Oh! that was so nice. I have been longing for years for such an embrace.”

Then she added, coolly: “But I must run away, and take the necessary precautions. I won’t be long. Wait till I come back.”

So, nodding and smiling at me, she left the room, and I made myself comfortable in an easy chair, feeling very well satisfied with the plump governess. She was not Frances, But she was a voluptuous woman, and she had proved to be a luscious poke.

I determined to “have” her as often as possible in future.

She came back in about a quarter of an hour, looking fresh and nice. She gave me a cup of tea; then we had a confidential chat; and she promised to let me know what day she would be alone again in the house. Thus everything being settled to our mutual satisfaction, I kissed her, and went away.

Next morning, while I was dressing, it struck me that Frances would like to hear how I had fared with the governess.

So, at four o’clock, I called at the house, and for a wonder, found the mistress at home alone. After the ordinary-greetings had passed between us; she asked, eagerly: “Did she let you ‘have’ her?”

“Yes,” I replied.

She laughed, saying: “I knew she would. Was she nice?”

“Yes. But not so nice as you,” I answered, smiling, and bowing.

She rose to her feet, swept a profound curtsey, and then sank down again into her chair, laughing heartily.

I remained chatting with her quietly till our tete-a-tete was interrupted by the entrance of some visitors whom I did not know; then I shook hands with her, and took my departure; without having seen Miss Martin.

A few days passed, but I did not pay a visit to Kensington. If I had gone, I should not have got a poke. I knew that Frances would not let me touch her; and I also knew that Miss Martin would not allow me to “have” her if Frances was in the house. The buxom governess had not the least idea that her intrigue with me was known.

However, I daily expected to hear from her that the “coast was clear.” At last the note arrived; telling me that she would be at home alone, all the afternoon; and that she hoped to see me. As soon as I had lunched, I started off, intending to spend a few hours with her, as I had taken quite a fancy to her opulent charms. At half-past two o’clock, I reached the house, and was shown into the drawing-room, where I found her waiting to receive me. She was looking very nice, and I at once gave her a hearty kiss, which she returned warmly; her eyes sparkling, and a pretty pink colour rising to her plump cheeks.

I took her on my knees, and putting my hand under her petticoats, I unfastened her drawers, and played with her in the usual way till my cock was in a full state of erection. Then I lifted her up, and was just going to lay her on the sofa for a poke; when she said, smiling: “Wait a little. I have something to do first. It won’t take me long. I will soon be back, and then we will have a long afternoon together, with nothing to disturb us.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I am going to whip Dora,” she replied in a matter-of-fact way, going to the cabinet and taking out the rod. Then she walked towards the door, saying: “I shan’t be more than ten minutes.”

“Stop a moment,” I said. “Why, I thought Mrs. Mark-ham herself always punished Dora?”

“So she does. But to-day she was in a hurry to go out, so she asked me to whip the girl. I have never hitherto whipped her.”

“What has she been doing?” I asked; taking the rod from Miss Martin, and examining the little article as if I had never seen it before.

“She has been saucy and insubordinate to her stepmother. The girl has been very troublesome lately; as she has been allowed to have her own way a great deal too much since Mrs. Markham has been engaged. However, she shall smart to-day. Her stepmother has told me to whip her soundly. And I intend to do so.”

“What a tiny little rod this is!” I observed, holding it up. “I should not think it could hurt much.”

“Oh yes, it can,” said Miss Martin emphatically. No doubt she remembered how much it had made her own bottom smart.

I laughed, as I thought of the day when I had seen her naked under the rod. Then I said: “I should very much like to see how a governess whips a refractory girl. Could you not let me see you punishing her? I could hide behind the curtains in the alcove, and she would never know that I was there. Come now, Kate,”-her name was Catherine-I added, kissing her: “do let me see you at work. It will give me great pleasure; and I assure you that no one shall ever hear anything about the affair.” She laughed; and after a little hesitation, said: “Very well, dear. If it will really give you pleasure; I shall be delighted to let you see me whip the girl.” I gave her another warm kiss by way of thanks.

Then she went on: “When Mrs. Markham punishes Dora, she merely whips her. But I will humble her as well as whip her. You shall see how a strict governess punishes a rude, saucy girl.”

So saying, she placed three chairs close together in a row. Then, turning to me, she said: “Now hide yourself, and I will go for the girl.”

She then left the room; and I put the rod on the table, and went into the alcove behind the curtains, which were closely drawn.

In a short time, the governess returned with the culprit, who was looking pale and frightened, though not actually crying. Dora was over fourteen years old: she had grown rather tall, and her budding bosom was just beginning to show its rounded contours; but she was still wearing rather short petticoats. She was prettier than ever, and her long auburn hair now reached below her waist. As I gazed at her, I thought what a lovely woman she would be in a few years’ time.

The governess seated herself on a chair, and addressed the delinquent, in a stern voice: “Now, Dora, you know that your mother has requested me to whip you soundly. And I warn you that if you are not perfectly submissive, I will double your punishment. Take off your frocks, stays, and drawers; fold them up tidily, and put them on the sofa.”

The tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, and began to trickle down her cheeks; and she hesitated a moment; then she took off her smart little satin corset Then, putting her hands under her petticoats, she slowly unfastened her drawers, let them slip down her legs to the floor, and stepped clear of the dainty, lace-trimmed garment. Then, with trembling fingers, she folded up the articles, placed them on the sofa, and stood, with downcast, tearful eyes, waiting for further orders.

“Now, get the rod; hand It to me, with a curtsey; say that you have misbehaved; and ask me if I will be pleased to give you a good whipping.”

Dora’s pale face flushed, when she heard the humiliating order, and the tears ran quicker down her cheeks; but she did not move.

“Obey me at once. Every time I have to repeat an order, I will add to your punishment,” said the governess, stamping her foot.

The girl was cowed. She got the rod, and handed it to the governess, with a curtsey, saying in a low trembling voice: “I have been naughty. Please give me a good whipping.”

“I will,” said the governess. “Lie down at full length upon the chairs, and bare your bottom to receive the punishment.”

Dora gave a choking sob, but at once walked to the chairs, and placed herself in position; then she pulled up all her drapery, exposing her lovely little naked figure from the waist downwards. It was six months since I had last seen the girl turned up. Her delicious bottom was as dazzlingly white as ever; but it had become more developed; it was broader and deeper, and the cheeks were plumper; her thighs had increased in size, and so had the calves of her well-made legs. Her small feet were cased in patent leather shoes, and she was wearing long black silk stockings, which showed off the whiteness of her skin to perfection. Altogether, the half-naked girl was a charming spectacle.

My cock sprung up, my eyes grew moist, and my mouth watered, as I gazed at the pretty bottom; and I heartily wished that I had been going to birch it.

Miss Martin now rose from her seat, and rod in hand, walked over to the culprit, and looked down at the “field of operations” for a moment.

Then she said: “Pull your petticoats up higher, and tuck them under your, body.”

The girl drew up all her garments as high as she could, and pushed them underneath her belly; then, covering her face with both hands, she awaited the stroke. But her suspense was prolonged.

The governess laid down the rod, and took out of her pocket some straps, with which she coolly began to fasten Dora’s wrists and ankles to the bars of the chairs; and as the girl had never before been tied up for a whipping, she became dreadfully frightened, and began to whimper.

When she was securely fastened, Miss Martin gave her a long lecture on her bad behaviour; winding up by saying: “I am going first of all to spank you; then I will birch you.”

Dora shuddered, uttering a low groan, and her smooth bottom became quite “goose-skinned” with fear.

The governess sat down upon a chair; so that she was just at the right level to administer the punishment, without having to stoop.

She began the spanking: laying the slaps only on the right cheek of the girl’s bottom, taking care not to touch the other cheek. The smacks sounded loudly as they fell in slow succession on the plump, firm flesh; and at each smack the marks of the governess’s fingers were printed in red on the delicate, white skin. Dora bore two or three slaps pretty quietly, then she burst into a loud fit of crying, and winced at each smack.

When the governess had applied a dozen smart slaps, she stopped spanking, and leisurely inspected the sufferer’s bottom which looked very funny, the bright scarlet colour of the spanked cheek, contrasting strongly with the snow-like whiteness of the untouched cheek. Then she set to work on the white left cheek, giving it also a dozen sharp smacks, which made it match the other in colour. Dora was crying, and wriggling her bottom the whole time, but she did not scream.

“Now, miss; yon shall have twelve cuts with the birch,” said the governess, taking up the rod and making it whistle in the air over Dora’s red and smarting bottom. She turned her head round, and fixed her eyes, with an agonized look, on the threatening twigs, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh-h! Miss Martin,” she cried out in piteous tones: “Please don’t birch me! — Oh! please-don’t-whip me-any more. Oh! I-have-had enough. My bottom-is-burning. Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Swish! Swish! Swish! The birching was begun; each cut extracting a loud, shrill squeal from Dora, and making her twist about in anguish, while small purple weals rose in all directions on the red skin. Miss Martin birched away calmly: and I saw that she was well skilled in the use of the rod. She did not swing the birch high in the air, she merely raised her arm from the elbow, and laid on the cuts with a peculiar sort of “flicking” stroke from the wrist. She never struck twice in the same place; the cuts were all applied with the same degree of force, and she never allowed the ends of the twigs to curl over on to the side of the culprit’s bottom. The flogging was fairly administered from beginning to end.

Dora, throughout the birching, squealed and writhed; cried and plunged; and begged abjectly for mercy. But she was not let off a single cut. The governess threw down the rod, and unfastened the girl’s wrists and ankles; saying: “Do not attempt to pull down your petticoats, or to get up until I give you permission.”

She then went back to her chair and seated herself; leaving Dora lying on the chairs, crying and twisting her hips in pain; and with her wealed, scarlet bottom exposed. When her crying had died away to sobs, Miss Martin said: “Get up; come to me, and thank me for your punishment.”

Dora got on her feet; her cheeks were nearly as red as her bottom; the tears were running from her eyes, her lips were quivering, and her face was full of pain. She walked stiffly up to the governess, and sobbed out, in choking accents:

“Thank-you-for-the-whipping-yon-have-given

“Now, pick up the rod; kiss it, and put it away in the cabinet. Then dress, and go to your room.”

The girl picked up the rod, kissed it meekly, and returned it to its place in the cabinet. Then she drew on her drawers, put on her corset and dress, and slunk, still sobbing, out of the room.

I stepped from behind the curtains, and gave the governess an appreciative kiss, as I was much pleased with the way she had administered the chastisement. She smiled, saying: “Now you have seen how a governess can punish a naughty girl, morally as well as physically. Dora may soon forget the whipping, but she will remember the degradation she has undergone. In having been obliged to ask me to give her a whipping; then, having had to prepare herself for the punishment; then having been compelled to thank me for whipping her; and finally having been forced to kiss the rod. She is a saucy girl, but she is now thoroughly humbled; and I am certain that she will not need another whipping for a very long time.”

“You did the whole thing splendidly,” I said. “The way you spanked one side of her bottom, and then the other, amused me very much; and you applied the rod in a most skilful way. I had no idea that a whipping could be inflicted in such an artistic style.”

She laughed, and appeared to be highly delighted at my compliments, saying: “There is an art both in spanking and birching, as there is in everything else. I have had plenty of practice, and I flatter myself that I can whip a bottom with a fair amount of skill.”

“You can, indeed,” I remarked. Then I added: “Now, Kate, I want you to let me have a good look at your bottom.”

She smiled, and blushed slightly, but answered without hesitation: “Very well You may look at it.”

I made her lean well over the back of an easy-chair; then I turned her skirt, petticoats, and chemise up to her shoulders; and unfastening her drawers, let them slip down to her feet Then, with a stiff prick, and glistening eyes, I inspected her grand bottom, which swelled boldly out in high relief as if inviting a spanking.

I passed my hand over the creamy-white hemispheres of plump firm flesh; stroking them up and down; squeezing them, and playing with them in all sorts of ways, while she looked over her shoulder, smiling.

“You have a magnificent bottom, Kate,” I observed, pinching one of the cheeks with my finger and thumb.

“Yes, I believe I have rather a good one,” she said, thrusting her head round, and glancing down at her big posteriors.

“Will you let me spank you?” I asked.

She hesitated a moment; then said: “Yes. But not too hard.”

“All right, I won’t be too hard. Ill only raise a blush on the pretty white cheeks, and make them tingle a little.”

She braced herself up, stiffening the muscles of her bottom and thighs; and bending well over the chair. Then I began to spank her; and it was a very pleasing task. I laid on the smacks pretty smartly, my hand rebounding from her firm, elastic flesh; and in a very short time the great white half-moons had turned a rosy red, and she had begun to flinch under the hot slaps.

I stopped spanking; then unbuttoning my trousers, I let out my tool, intending to poke her “en levrette.” But when she saw me advancing-to the attack, she looked surprised, and was going to stand up. So, I said: “Don’t move, Kate. I am going to enjoy from behind.”

She gazed over her shoulder, with her large, hazel eyes wide open in utter astonishment-she had evidently never been poked “en levrette”-but she stood still. Taking hold of her massive thighs, I slightly separated them; then clasping my hands in front of her belly, I stooped a little, and thrust my prick between the lower part of the cheeks of her bottom, deeply into her cunt. I began to work vigorously, and she appeared to thoroughly enjoy the novel sensation of being poked from behind. She moved her loins backwards and forwards briskly to meet my digs, squeaking with pleasure; and when the discharge came, she received it with a quiver of voluptuous delight, wriggling her bottom furiously, and heaving a deep sigh of satisfaction.

When all was over, and she had fastened up her drawers, and I had buttoned up my trousers, we sat down on the sofa.

Glancing rather shyly at me, she said: “I have never been embraced in that way before. It quite astonished me. I had no idea there were more ways than one of doing it.”

“It can be done in many other ways, and I hope to show them all to you, in time,” I observed.

She laughed; her eyes gleamed, and her cheeks flushed. She was decidedly a voluptuous woman, and the thought of future pokes in strange positions, was evidently pleasing to her.

We had a short chat, then she rang for tea; and after we had refreshed ourselves with a cup, she sat down on the floor at my feet, coolly unbuttoned my trousers, and took out my limp prick, which she began to handle in a skilful manner. She was up to that trick! When she had got my tool ready for action, she laughed and looked up in my face, her eyes shining with a sensuous expression of desire. I said: “Now, I’ll show you another way of doing it. Stand up with your back towards me.” She instantly rose to her feet and placed herself in the required position, laughing and looking over her shoulder.

“Pull open the slit of your drawers as widely as possible, and then hold your petticoats well above your waist.” She did so: and as soon as the big semi-globes of her bottom-still pink from the spanking-were fairly exposed, I drew her close up to my knees, and made her lower her bottom down upon my upstanding prick, which I guided with my fingers into its proper place, until the weapon was up to the hilt in the sheath. Then I told her to move herself up and down on the “dart,” and she did so, while I gently worked my loins; so, in a short time, the affair was finished; and she had been again poked in a new position, much to her amusement and satisfaction. She remarked, as she lay back against my breast:

“That is a capital way of doing ‘it,’ when a woman has got all her clothes on. The position is comfortable, and it does not rumple her dress,”

“Yes,” I replied. “It is a most convenient position. A man can ‘have’ a woman that way, in a moment, in any quiet corner; or in a railway carriage, or even in a hansom cab.”

She laughed, and asked me a number of questions about the various ways of poking. I gave her full descriptions of the different methods, and by the time I had satisfied her curiosity, it was also time for me to be going, as I had an engagement to dinner. So I gave her a kiss, telling her that I had to go home and dress. She got off my knees, where she had been sitting ever since I had poked her, and arranged her rather disordered attire; saying, with a laugh: “Well, we have spent a pleasant afternoon. I hope to see you soon again, and then you must show me practically some of the other positions.”

I laughed, and replied: “I will show you, in due course, all the other positions.”

Then I shook hands with her, and took my departure, feeling very well pleased with what I had seen, and also with what I had done.