The Oyster, Volume IV

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir, This little report may reassure your readers who took issue with the recent judgement of a correspondent in the Manchester Guardian who opined that the age of chivalry has forever passed. Last Wednesday I had the pleasure of attending a gala charity performance of Mr. Henry Irving's Macbeth at the Lyceum Theatre. As your readers will know, this event has been the talk of London for many weeks well before the opening night. The tongue of rumour had been well primed with comment upon the huge costs of the costumes and scenery, the golden dinner service to be used for the banqueting scene, Sir Arthur Sullivan's music, the scenic effects for the appearance of the witches-for artistic Society it was 'the play's the thing'. And assuredly, however fierce the wordy war raised over its merits in the press, there was but one voice of praise for the beauty of Miss Ellen Terry whose enchanting presence added yet further lustre to this magnificent production. I was honoured to meet this delightful lady after the performance. But I must start this tale from the beginning; I was escorted to the theatre by a relatively new acquaintance, Lieutenant John Lynch of the 69th East Kent Mounted Rifles-certainly the appropriately numbered regiment for this young rogue whose luxuriant moustache was grown solely at the wish of Mrs. Dunton-Green, who in turn shaved her pussey hair for the Lieutenant's delectation. His strange desires, I am sure, will come as no surprise to your readers who have met the randy Lieutenant, for his prowess as a cocksman cannot be denied. I would take this opportunity, though, of stating as fact that despite his claims to the contrary, his penis is not the equal in length to that of Mr. Peter Stockman, though that in itself is no shame for who indeed can hold a candle (please forgive the analogy) to Mr. Stockman when these vital statistics are compared?

Incidentally, I am reliably informed that Mr. Stockman's extraordinary member has even been awarded a royal seal of approval after its penetration of Her Royal Highness Princess Helene of The Netherlands. You would agree, Sir, I am sure, that his tryst with Princess Helene could form a most interesting essay in its own right in the unlikely event of his finding spare time from fucking to compose a dissertation about the affair for our vicarious enjoyment.

However, I digress; John and I were invited to a select reception for the principal players after the performance of the play given by Sir James Salter, Chairman of the good cause (The Society for the Propagation of Useful Knowledge To The Deserving Poor) which benefited from the funds raised that evening. I found myself standing next to Mr. Irving when the great man suddenly turned round and asked which scenes in the play I had most enjoyed. 'The acting throughout was of the highest quality,' I said carefully, and I could see from Sir James's approving nod that my thoughtfulness was much appreciated. 'I was most impressed with the staging. I heard one gentleman sitting near me remark that no finer piece of stagecraft has been effected, even by yourself, than in the scene in which the murder of Duncan is discovered. The rush in of Macduff and his followers, the terrible roar of fear and thirst for vengeance, the glare of the torches and, above all, the white-faced figure of Lady Macbeth expressing her unutterable agony whilst her husband stalks amid the angry soldiers-an embodiment of disguised guilt-all this was marvellously conveyed to the audience.' Mr. Irving smiled and said: 'Miss Everleigh, you should take up the profession of a dramatic critic. Your little earhole (at least I think that is what he said, though by this time we had quaffed a bumper of champagne and had partaken of a sea-food buffet) knows more about the theatre than Mr. George Bernard Shaw and the rest of those bounders who turn a dishonest penny scribbling for the newspapers. Take my word for it, as far as theatrical, criticism is concerned, Mr. Shaw does not know his arse from his elbow!'

The party broke up soon afterwards, but not before Johnny rather unwisely told the story of the vicar who was enjoying a cup of tea at Mrs. Fairweather's, when young Miss Fairweather dropped her chocolate onto the rug. 'Oh dear,' said the vicar. 'You've got hairs on your sweetie.' 'Yes,' she said. 'And I'm only fifteen!' 'Ha, ha, ha!' said John to a most embarrassed and deafening silence. 'Jenny, I think it is time for us to be off.' 'I think we are about three minutes too late.' I muttered to Sir James who noted my remark with a wry smile. In the handsome cab on our way back to Johnny's rooms in Albemarle Street, I ticked him off about the recounting of an improper story. 'It was appreciated as much as a pork pie at Lady Cohen's soiree next Thursday,' I remonstrated, as the handsome boy snuggled up to me and began to play with my breasts, cupping them in his hands and squeezing gently as we exchanged kisses and cuddles which raised my sensual appetite enormously. I moved my hand to the front of his trousers and felt a hard rod that threatened to tear the material that covered it. His thighs moved as he tried to ease his erection, but I had already decided to offer a helping hand! I could already feel the desire emanating from that throbbing tool, so great was my desire to hold and play with that rampant thumper. So I unbuttoned his fly and grasped his thick penis that showed out of his trousers, quivering like an arrow. He had a long foreskin that I gently peeled back, leaving the purple knob completely uncovered.

Nothing loath, Johnny unbuttoned my blouse and fondled my naked titties as I rubbed his ivory shaft up to peak hardness. When I felt that he might spend too soon, I took my hand away and we locked ourselves into a lingering, erotic kiss with our tongues probing inside each others' mouths. I then kissed him all over until my lips found my way to the top of his lovely long shaft which must have measured at least seven and a half inches (well below the dimensions of Mr. Stockman, of course, though I suppose that is neither here nor there in this context). I took the pulsating knob between my lips, jamming down his foreskin and lashing my tongue around the rigid shaft. I sucked hard, taking at least a third of this extraordinarily long tool into my mouth whilst I played with his hairy balls. Then I began to lick this monster member, drawing my hot, wet tongue from his balls right up his shaft, flicking briefly at the gleaming red dome.

He clutched at my hair and shuddered as I circled my tongue all around the smooth flesh of Johnny's uncapped helmet, paying particular attention to the sensitive ridge. Then I decided to perform my party piece, which leads every man I have ever known to spend within thirty seconds! I removed my hands and, clasping them back, I sucked up almost the entire length of his long shaft, bobbing my head up and down as I slurped greedily on the hot, velvet sweetmeat which, true to form, jerked wildly before shooting jets of frothy spunk into my throat. I greedily swallowed every tangy drop of his copious libation but to my astonishment, his pego began to shrink limply in my mouth.

Goodness gracious, I thought, surely this could not be the prick of Lieutenant Johnny Lynch who often boasted that he could fuck like a rattlesnake (though whether this small reptile, indigenous to the area of North and Central America, has extraordinary stamina and prowess in l'art de faire l'amour is at best debatable). Where had I gone wrong?

My own love button was now sopping wet and I could feel the juices trickling down my thighs, but Johnny lay panting, his limp penis hanging loosely out of his trousers. I looked out of the window and saw that we had almost arrived at his apartment, so I stuffed his sorry sausage back into his trousers and we quickly buttoned up and composed ourselves as the cab turned off Piccadilly into Albemarle Street. Johnny paid off the cabman and, in the hallway of the small block, who should we meet but Ellen Terry and young Mr. David Haines, one of Mr. Irving's company who played some of the minor roles, the Bleeding Sergeant, a Messenger, Young Siward etc. in the play we had just seen. We greeted them cordially as we crowded in the elevator which deposited us on the second floor. Miss Terry and Mr.

Haines made their way to Flat Three whilst we went next door to Flat Four. We soon found ourselves on the Chesterfield sofa engaged in a most passionate embrace, and I was pleased to feel Johnny's hands move downwards, stroking my thigh from my knee to my bum. I felt him slip his hand under my skirt and shivered with anticipation as I felt his fingers on the bare skin above my stockings. His hand inserted itself between my thighs and then his fingers worked themselves into the leg of my knickers and began to torment the wet lips of my cunney.

I endeavoured to assist him find the quickest way home, so I wriggled my little bottom and was delighted to feel his fingers penetrate me.

But then, to my alarm, J felt the dear lad's body stiffen and, though still keeping his fingers in my fanny, he suddenly groaned: 'Oh, Jenny, I feel rather unwell, I really do.' 'What is the matter with you?' I asked anxiously. 'Where does it hurt?' 'It's my belly,' he replied between clenched teeth. 'I really do have a most piercing ache in the pit of my stomach.' And then he withdrew his hand from its nesting-place between my legs, rolled off the sofa and doubled up in obvious pain upon the carpet. I cried out: 'Poor Johnny, we must get you a doctor. Have you a telephone installed in the apartment? You have one? Good. Now, is your doctor on the phone?

Yes? I will ring him straightaway.' Johnny was a patient of Doctor Tong of Welbeck Street who I had met socially at dinner parties, so at least the learned gentleman would know who was speaking at the other end of the apparatus. Fortunately the good doctor was at home-I was later to find out that he was in the middle of fucking the beautiful young daughter of Lady Bracknell, which made his decision to come round immediately even more meritorious. I made Johnny lie down on the sofa and tried to make him as comfortable as possible when there was a loud knock on the front door. 'Who is there?' I called out,* for Doctor Tong could not possibly have arrived so quickly.

'It's David Haines here,' said an equally anxious voice from the hallway. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm worried about Miss Terry.

She has been violently sick and is in great pain.' I opened the door and saw the handsome young actor was in a state of some distress.

'That's strange,' I said, 'for my friend Lieutenant Lynch has been similarly affected. But look, I've sent for his doctor who I am sure will be pleased to treat Miss Terry as well.' 'Oh, how clever of you,' he said. 'I will tell Miss Terry and await the visit of the doctor. I don't know much about these matters, but I would guess that they are suffering from food poisoning.' 'You could be right as they both partook of a lobster salad at Sir James Salter's reception at the theatre.' 'Yes, of course, I thought I saw you there, Miss Everleigh. Well, I didn't have anything to eat except a few nuts as Ellen, that is, Miss Terry and I had eaten a light supper before the play. But she cannot resist lobster so she accepted a small portion.'

'So did Johnny, although we too had taken a light supper at Ajao's smart little cafe in Covent Garden,' I sighed. 'I suppose it serves them right really for being greedy. But I do hope your doctor arrives soon as Miss Terry is feeling very unwell. I had better go back and comfort her,' said the good-looking young man. 'Perhaps you would call me when the doctor is free to examine Miss Terry.'

Doctor Tong arrived about five minutes later and examined the two patients. 'They are both suffering from a bad case of lobster poisoning,' he commented, 'and although there is no danger to life, I would suggest that both Lieutenant Lynch and Miss Terry rest as peacefully as they can until the offending food has passed through their systems. 'I have given both of them sleeping draughts and they should now sleep soundly for at least three hours. Whenever either of the patients wakes up, give them some weak tea or barley water, but on no account give them anything to eat,' he told Mr.

Haines and myself, for we both volunteered to nurse our respective patients back to health. 'Very well, then, now may I present you with my bill for five guineas,' said Doctor Tong calmly. 'I presume Lieutenant Lynch, as primary patient, will settle the account?' I thought to myself that poor Johnny, who was almost always broke, would be quite distraught at having to find such a large sum from his already strained bank account. Then a thought struck me and I put my hand on the Doctor's arm and whispered: 'Couldn't we settle the account in kind?' 'Whatever do you mean?' he said. I let my hand fall suggestively to the front of his trousers and rubbed my palm on the rubbery rod that I felt twitch noticeably under my touch.

'I do not fuck for money,' I hastened to add. 'But I would be pleased to let you view my superb feminine charms in all their glorious nudity, and if you like, I will relieve any tensions by a special French massage.' Doctor Tong's eyes brightened as he said: 'In the name of medical science I will accept your offer, as I have never been given a French massage and I think it best that I try one for myself as it might prove a valuable tool in the alleviation of certain mental and physical troubles.' 'Will you excuse us for a few minutes, David?' I said to Mr. Haines. 'Of course, Jenny, I will be in Miss Terry's rooms and I will make you a cup of tea if you will join me there later,' said the considerate young man, taking his leave of us. I turned to Doctor Tong and said: 'Just sit down on the Chesterfield, Doctor, and relax. To entertain you I shall give my impression of the pose plastique as performed by Miss Norma Blakeley at the Jim Jam Club, Great Windmill Street every night at nine o'clock.' 'I have an even better idea,' said Doctor Tong. 'I will play the piano to accompany your performance.' He sat down at the piano and began to play softly a lovely Chopin Polonaise. I undressed to the sound of music until I was nude except for my chemise. Doctor Tong quickened the tempo as I shrugged off the chemise to stand quite naked in front of the mirror. At this juncture, I must confess that I could not help but admire my body. Well, why not, Mr. Editor? I make no apologies for my behaviour, for have I not always held that false modesty is as foolish as overweening pride? Surely there cannot be any readers who would disagree with my philosophy? Therefore I shall not disguise in the slightest my approval of my own unblemished skin or my swelling, firm breasts, each looking a little away from the other, each perfectly round and tapering in luscious curves until they came to two ruby points set in pink aureoles. My belly, too, was as white as snow and gleamed under the electric light-Johnny Lynch believed in obtaining all the conveniences of modern life-and I smoothed my hands over its broad yet flat expanse, dimpled as it was with a sweet little navel, like a perfect plain of snow which appeared the more dazzling from the curly locks of silky blonde hair which formed a golden triangle around my pussey. I stood on tip-toe and swivelled round to face Doctor Tong, opening my legs a little to give him fair view of my demure little crack, complete with its pouting lips. I moved towards him and slid my hand down to the lump in his crotch and closed my fingers around the solid stiffness of his erection. To protect the material of his trousers, I opened his fly buttons and out sprang his bursting stalk which was quite small, being only some five inches long, but beautifully formed and well ornamented by a pair of tight-looking little balls. As I have written in previous missives, a small prick poses no problems for me. Indeed, I think that I prefer them to monster weapons, for smaller pegos are more manoeuvrable when thrusting into a hot, slippery cunney. As my Australian cousin, Joanna Clarke, says: 'It's not the size of the waves that count, but the motion of the ocean!' By now the randy doctor was breathing heavily, so I reached out and stroked his throbbing rod. I giggled as it twitched violently in my hand and I said: 'I know you would like to spend though we haven't too much time for preliminaries. However, if you like the idea, I will let you spend over my titties.' Doctor Tong nodded his approval as I gently took hold of his blue-veined shaft and briskly rubbed my hand up and down from his balls to his knob. I knelt down and with the other hand took my already erect nipples between my fingers and coaxed them up further so they began to resemble two miniature red stalks. 'Come on now, doctor, I want you to soak my bubbies with your love juice,' I urged him as I wrapped my hand tightly around his prick and felt his ultimate pleasure approaching fast. He gasped with delight as he let fly great fountains of frothy spunk which sprayed a white necklace across my globes. I leaned further forward to rub his jerking cock between the valley of my breasts, smearing the sperm all round my saucer-shaped aureoles. I squeezed my breasts together and stuffed his still stiff shaft into my cleavage, and he cried out in ecstasy as he spurted the remnants of his spunk onto my chin. 'Thank you for coming so quickly, Doctor,' I muttered as he lay back on the Chesterfield, quite exhausted from this somewhat hurried sexual exercise. 'What a splendid little how-do-you-do,' he said, heaving himself up as he adjusted his clothing. 'I must thank you most sincerely for a most invigorating tonic, which I only wish I could prescribe for my patients.' I slipped on Johnny's bathrobe and replied: 'It was my pleasure to administer the treatment, Doctor Tong, though I trust you will be as discreet as I about the elixir involved.' 'Dear Jenny, my Hippocratic oath assures you of my total discretion,' he promised, tearing up the bill he had previously made out. Stuffing the pieces of paper into his pocket, he made his way to the door. 'May I wish you a very good night and express the hope that we may soon meet again.' After he had left the apartment I popped in to check that Johnny was still safe in the arms of Morpheus. He looked so sweet, lying there with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, that I was tempted to wake my sleeping beauty with a kiss. But it would be foolish not to follow the strict instructions of Doctor Tong and so, without disturbing him further, I left John sleeping soundly as I closed the door quietly behind me.

I was about to cross the hallway to take up my neighbour's kind offer of a cup of tea, when I heard someone knocking gently on the front door. I opened it only to find David Haines standing there holding a silver tray complete with a pot of tea, a milk jug, a fruit cake and two cups and saucers. 'If the mountain will not come to Mahomet, then Mahomet must come to the mountain,' he grinned. 'May I come in, please, Miss Everleigh?' 'Of course you can, Mr.

Haines,' I said, welcoming him in. 'You have saved me a journey. Tell me, how is Miss Terry feeling?' 'Oh, she is deep in the land of Nod,' he said. 'Now, shall I pour the tea or would you prefer to do so?' We sipped our tea, which I found most refreshing, and we chatted away in a most amiable fashion. We were soon on forename terms and David told me how he entered the theatrical profession. His parents had owned a small hotel in the Midlands which was frequented by many players en route or returning from the capital city. David had been in charge of the restaurant and earned a high wage, 'but I had always wanted to act on the professional stage,' he explained. 'One evening I auditioned for a role in Mr. Peter Webb's travelling troupe of Shakespearean artistes. I was engaged to play minor roles at first, but I progressed until I won some fame in provincial theatres. My Laertes in Sevenoaks was much admired, whilst my Pistol was commented upon most favourably in Littlehampton and Penistone.' 'How appropriate,' I laughed gaily, 'and was Pistol's cock up?' 'Oh, yes, and flashing fire did follow,' he replied, remembering his lines from the Bard of Avon's Henry V. Yes, Mr. Editor, before you and the readers of your splendid magazine ask the question, I will admit to enjoying intercourse with the handsome young actor. We were attracted to each other, of course, and we had both been fired earlier that evening by the anticipation of a night of connubial bliss with our partners, joys that had apparently been dashed by Sir James Salter's noxious lobsters. However, I did try (though not overmuch!) to dissuade the dear lad as he slipped his arm around my waist and drew me close to him so that he could nibble my ear. 'We shouldn't really do this,' I said as he tenderly took me in his arms.

'Is this fair to Johnny Lynch or to Miss Terry?' 'Ah, Jenny, if you do give me a kiss, what will Lieutenant Lynch lose?' he whispered, inserting his hand between the folds of my robe and letting it rove up to caress my breasts. 'After all, a slice from a cut loaf is never missed as Ellen herself often tells me, for she does not live the life of a nun when we are working in different cities.' I could not help but giggle as our lips met and we eased ourselves down onto the rich pink Persian carpet which was almost as comfortable as a mattress. Slipping off his jacket, I began to unbutton his trousers.

Turning them down, my eager hands wandered under his shirt, feeling the firmness of the rounded contours of his buttocks whilst I did not fail to see his linen stand out in front. I lifted up the shirt to reveal a truly massive truncheon that stood up magnificently from the morass of dark hair around his pubic area. This was a truly prizewinning sapling at least three inches longer than Johnny's and far thicker than that of Doctor Tong's. I put out my hand to grasp this monster tool when I suddenly realised there was something else different about it. As I pulled my hand up and down the hot, smooth-skinned shaft, I realised that the fiery purple helmet was totally uncovered, yet there was no foreskin to pull back. My surprise must have registered on my face as David murmured: 'Dearest love, I hope my prick does not disturb you.' 'Oh, no,' I said reassuringly. 'I have seen several circumcised cocks in my time. They are quite pleasing to the eye and even more pleasant to the taste as there are no smelly parts with which to be concerned. Several high-ranking gentlemen have had their foreskins removed for one reason or another whilst, of course, Sir Moses Abrahams had his whisked off in early infancy.' 'Ah, yes, the Jews perform the operation eight days after birth. And in my case, the cut was made when I was but two and a half when I was diagnosed as suffering from a tight foreskin which caused me problems whilst relieving myself. The only bother since then is assuring ignorant girls that my skinless shaft is still in perfect working order! We kissed again and I shed the cotton robe to lay naked in his arms. He, too, removed the rest of his clothing to be as nude as I as our bodies threshed wildly away on the carpet. Now he laid me down and opened my legs to expose my already dampening pussey. His head shot between my legs and I clamped my thighs around it as his mouth glued itself to my cunt. His trembling fingers parted my cunney lips and he licked my juicy crack from bottom to top. I writhed with ecstasy as his fingers now penetrated my soaking quim and he sucked the engorged clitty between his full lips.

He mashed it hard as his fingers darted in and out to be followed by the most lascivious licking and lapping of his clever tongue. I soon felt my cunt spasm and I scrunched my thighs tightly against his head as he tasted my oozing juices, lapping up my spend, savouring its salty taste. It was my pleasure to repay the compliment so I settled David Haines nicely on his back which let his cock stick up like a flagpole. I knelt down beside him and thoroughly wet his smooth mushroomed-shaped dome with my tongue. Then opening my mouth as wide as possible, I slipped the huge knob inside. His taste was quite delicious and I closed my lips around it as firmly as I could and worked on the bulbous knob with my tongue, easing my lips forward to take in as much of his enormous staff as I could. I circled the base of this gigantic cock with my hand and sucked lustily until it almost touched the back of my throat. David was now really excited and his hips lifted off the carpet as my licking and sucking increased in tempo. I cupped his hairy bollocks, feeling them harden as the sperm boiled up to shoot up his shaft. His rigid staff jerked convulsively and then, whoosh! A veritable jet of juicy spunk hit the back of my throat and, as even the most dexterous fellatrix will tell you, when a big-cocked boy spends in your mouth, it is hard to swallow with your mouth full of gushing love juice. But practice makes perfect and I swallowed the wonderful flood of tangy spunk until the fountain eased to a dribble. Now the important question was whether I was to be disappointed a second time after the failure of Johnny Lynch to stay erect when my sucking had emptied his balls. Gladly, I can report that after a few rubs up and down his thick shaft, my handsome young actor was ready to tread the boards again! I coaxed his rock-hard stiffness into my dripping pussey and he gently eased his great cock between the soft folds of my cunney. At first we lay motionless, billing and cooing with our lips until I began a slight motion with my buttocks to which he was not slow to respond. He slowly started to pump his rod in and out of my squelchy pussey, and it took only seven or eight strokes before I was twisting away like crazy, clawing his back with my fingernails, as he raised the tempo of his thrusts. What ecstasy I enjoyed as his smooth circumcised cock worked in and out of my welcoming pussey! How it seemed to swell inside the luscious sheath which received it so lovingly! How expertly he fucked me, pushing his massive weapon in time to my own thrusts upward so that in no time at all I screamed with joy as I spent copiously, coating his cock with my juices. This brought dear David onwards to his zenith and now, frantically, we pushed towards each other and our lips fastened together as I felt his entire frame shiver with expectancy as a streaming, molten flood washed the walls of my cunt and my pussey exploded into yet another delightful orgasm. Our mouths came together in a more leisurely kiss as we rested our warm bodies tenderly together. Alas, I had spent so liberally that there were two large damp patches on Johnny's expensive Persian carpet. 'Oh my goodness, David, I do feel somewhat guilty about what I've just done.

Not only have I fucked another man in my boyfriend's apartment, but I have stained his precious carpet with my spendings!' I said.

'Don't worry about it, I have the solution at hand,' cried David, scrambling to his feet and putting on his trousers. 'I will be back in a moment.' He ran lightly to the front door and out into the hallway and I heard him open the door of Miss Terry's apartment. He returned a few moments later carrying a small bottle of silvery liquid and a soft cloth. 'This is Professor Kenneth Watkins' famous stain remover, Jennifer. We use it all the time in the theatre for, as you may well imagine, our costumes are often dirtied with make-up, powder and goodness knows what else. 'Look, I'm dabbing some on to a clean soft cloth and the offending marks will simply vanish within a few minutes,' he added. 'What a useful product for all households,' I said, pleased indeed that the evidence of fucking would be irrevocably erased. 'Yes, it's hats off to Professor Watkins, who I understand has made a mint of money from his cleaning fluid. He also claims it has a valuable secondary use as a fertiliser for growing marrows! Actually, that reminds me of a rhyme Mr. Lear is supposed to have composed, though I am sure that Dr Lezaine of Brussels is the true author: 'There was a young lady from Harrow, Who complained that her crack was too narrow, For times without number She would use a cucumber, But could never accomplish a marrow.' We laughed gaily and David slipped off his trousers to reveal that his prick was already swelling up again, despite our previous exertions. I took hold of it and, leading him by the shaft, sat him down on the Chesterfield. I lifted myself across him and eased his now hard cock into my cunney. I bounced merrily up and down on his amazingly powerful joystick and he looked on happily as he saw his staff slipping in and out of me, watching my juices running onto his belly. As I rocked to and fro, lifting myself up and down onto his mighty rod, we worked ourselves into a frenzy. We spent together in perfect accord though, this time, David withdrew a now shrunken cock after drenching my cunney with his copious emission of love juice. What a fabulous man! What a delightful prick! We lay naked on the floor, absolutely exhausted from this additional bout of fucking. David was actually asleep and my eyes were half closed when I wriggled into a more comfortable position, only to make out the outlines of a figure above me. I opened my eyes fully and brought my hand to my mouth as I gasped with embarrassment. For above me stood a pretty girl of some twenty years of age, looking down on us with a mixture of surprise and amusement. I pushed my palms on the floor to lever myself up, but this attractive young redheaded miss said: 'Oh no, please don't get up. You both look most fatigued. Allow me to refresh you with some champagne from the icebox.' I nudged David awake and at first he, too, wondered what on earth we could say to this delightful creature who appeared to be anything but nonplussed at finding a naked couple on the floor of her apartment. Wait a moment, I thought to myself, these rooms belong to Johnny Lynch, so how on earth did she get in? Who had given her the key? She must have been reading my mind, for as she came back with glasses of champagne she said: 'I feel I should introduce myself. My name is Eliza Doolittle and I am a close friend of Lieutenant Lynch. Whenever he has spare time from his military manoeuvres, he calls me and I come down to Albermarle Street from my family's house in St John's Wood for a good fucking.' 'You and me both, Eliza,' I said, attempting to disguise a little pang of bitterness. 'My name is Jennifer Everleigh.

I do hope you were not of the belief that Johnny Lynch reserved his prick for your sole usage.' 'Oh, no, not at all, Jennifer. It was not difficult to divine that there were other girls who were testing his tool,' she said cheerfully. 'I must compliment him upon his taste if you are one of his bedmates. And you, sir, although we have not been formally introduced, may I compliment you on a most well-formed circumcised penis. I hope you will be able to show it to me at its fullest extent after we have drunk our champagne.' I completed the introductions and David suggested that Eliza divested herself of her clothes and sat down on the floor beside us, an action that she found most acceptable. He pulled down some soft cushions from the sofa as the lovely lass unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, together with her skirt, to reveal that she wore no chemise nor indeed any underclothes of any kind. Again she sensed my curiosity: 'You may wonder why I am so lightly dressed. The fact of the matter is that it is so warm tonight and, as I know I will be staying here till breakfast as my parents are away in the country this week, there seemed little point in putting on anything but the minimum of clothing. I always keep some spare knickers in Johnny's bedroom.'

If David had not been so tired from our previous lovemaking, I am sure that his big prick would have already been standing smartly to attention, but all he could manage at the sight of this beautiful nuda Veritas was a slight erection to half mast. I admired Eliza's sparkling reddish hair, her large blue eyes and her alabaster white breasts which were almost as large as mine. They had deliciously rounded aureoles upon which sat two delectable little nipples that simply ached to be sucked. Her tummy, too, was chalky white, setting off so well the luxuriant covering of silky red hair which surrounded, yet did not hide, the pouting cunney lips between which the glowing red chink looked so voluptuous and enticing. After we consumed the champagne Eliza had opened, we drank a second bottle that the lovely girl had thoughtfully extracted from the icebox. By now, despite the champagne, David's fine cock had climbed up to its full height, standing up high against his flat belly. Eliza took hold of it and kissed the pulsating knob. She then lay back with her head on the pillow as David lifted his body over her to kneel astride her gorgeous body. She opened her mouth and began to suck his sinewy shaft with uninhibited joy. Meanwhile, she took a hand from his pumping prick to place my hand on her already damp mons veneris. I wriggled until I was in front of her and inspected her exciting pussey at close quarters. Her splendid mount was liberally covered with silky red hair, and from the serrated vermilion lips of her cunney projected quite three inches a stiff, fleshy clitty as big as my thumb. I opened her lips even further with my fingers and passed my tongue lasciviously about the most sensitive parts, taking that glorious clitty in my mouth, rolling my tongue around it and playfully biting it. 'Oh, Oh, Oh, I am coming, I am coming!' she wailed as she built up to her sublime culmination in fine style, frantically sucking David's huge shaft whilst I continued to flick my tongue dotingly against her salivating cunney. She spent profusely over my face as I tongued her clitty to its ultimate excitement, whilst David jetted his torrent of spunk into her mouth and she gulped it down, smacking her lips as she tasted his manly essence. The three of us were cooling down when who should come staggering out of the bedroom but Johnny Lynch himself! 'Sod me! What the hell is going on here?' he cried out, holding onto a chair for support. 'I should have thought that was obvious,' replied Eliza cheekily. 'We have been partaking of a heavenly three-way fuck. I can only speak for myself of course, but I am sure that David and Jenny would be pleased to enlarge the trio into a quartet.' His eyes gleamed and he pulled his nightshirt over his head. 'Well now, I take pleasure in accepting your kind invitation, although as Jenny may have informed you, I have been feeling rather unwell this evening and am not on my best form. So if you need a second stiff prick I think that you girls will have to help it rise to the occasion. Mind, at best I don't think I can match that monster tool,' he added, looking enviously at David's enormous whopper. 'Oh, Johnny, don't be so silly. Why do these men have such a fixation about their equipment?' asked Eliza. I laughed and said: 'I don't know, Eliza, I am always telling Johnny that it is quality not quantity that counts, although I must say that Mr. Haines here possesses one of the largest pricks in London.' 'Thank you very much,' said David modestly. 'Although I do know where the biggest may be seen.' 'Where's that?' asked Johnny, fondling his shaft back into life. 'On Jumbo the elephant in Regent's Park Zoo!' retorted the charming thespian. We all laughed at his witticism as we leaped up to follow Johnny into his bedroom for, by now, even the richness of his carpet could not prevent further fucking on the floor becoming rather uncomfortable, and a nice soft mattress would enable us to continue our orgy for another grand session of sucking and fucking. The two cheeky young men lay down together on the bed and waited for Eliza and I to begin the proceedings by sucking their pricks which were raised in fine states of erection. 'Shall I begin?' asked Eliza. 'I do so enjoy the taste of salty spunk. It is so invigorating and I am convinced it has excellent medical qualities, as well as getting bellies up.' They chorused their agreement as Eliza took David Haines' thick prick in her right hand and Lieutenant Lynch's lesser, yet still sizeable, weapon in her left hand and gave the two shafts a thorough rubbing so that they stood up like two flagpoles in her grasp. Then, getting down on her knees, she pulled them gently together and took both gleaming red helmets in her mouth, washing them with her tongue, causing them both to moan with unalloyed delight. The two pricks bounded and swelled in her hand as she jerked her wrist up and down the swollen shafts. It was so exciting to be sucked off at the same time by this pretty minx, that very quickly they spent almost together and spurted great globules of frothy sperm into Eliza's willing mouth. She took every last drop until both cocks shrunk down to half mast. Eliza then snuggled down between the two men and I knelt in front of her to give her saturated clitty another licking out. But David gently pushed me away, saying that it was his turn to pay his respects to the delicately sculpted pussey that pouted so provocatively from the mass of fiery red hair spread so profusely around Eliza's mound. Not to be denied, I slid on my back between David's knees to hold his swelling truncheon as he sucked happily away on Eliza's muff. Naturally, Johnny had no wish to be left out of our line-up and brandishing his stiffening cock, he pulled himself across me to fit his knob against my cunney lips. I took the head of David's cock in my mouth as I released my hands to guide Johnny's cock to its desired haven. The double sensation of being fucked whilst sucking another prick was most exciting, and my whole body tingled with excitement and I was soon coming off in a series of delicious spendings. Johnny too began to shudder and he held me in a tight grip as we rocked together to a glorious mutual climax. Moments later, David spilled his spunk into my mouth and I felt completely sated. Eliza now turned over onto her tummy and, slipping a pillow underneath her, stuck out her glorious bum cheeks, opening her legs slightly so we could see the wrinkled little brown rosette winking away at us. The boys tried to flog their pegos up to a good stiffness and, not unexpectedly, David was the first to position his hard, throbbing shaft between the glorious rondeurs of Eliza's bum.

Carefully I took hold of his warm, velvety cock and directed its head to Eliza's bottom crack. I stroked the pretty girl's pulsating nipples whilst, alongside her, Johnny dipped two long fingers inside her dripping cunney. Eliza's hips jerked at the first nosing of David's huge cock into her bum-hole. Her startled cry and the febrile twitching of her delicious bottom cheeks led him to temporarily withdraw and anoint his prick with pomade. This time his cock slid freely in, forcing its way through the sphincter muscle as Eliza cried out: 'Aaaah! Ooooh! Your prick is too big, David Haines! Yes, no, don't stop! Aaah!' He was now ensconced in her bum, and from the excited wrigglings of her backside and her flushed face and sparkling eyes, I could see how much she actually enjoyed being cornholed in this fashion, especially as I continued to play with her erect nipples and Johnny continued to diddle her juicy pussey. David's excited cock revelled in the tight-fitting fundament of the exquisite girl, and we rocked and plunged to such an extent that it was a miracle we did not all fall out of the bed! 'This is simply exquisite, oh, keep rotating your bum, Eliza and I shall soon spend,' groaned David who delighted in the manner the clever girl mashed her bumcheeks against his belly. The sperm was already bubbling in his balls but by great mental effort he made to delay the moment of truth. Eliza began pushing her bum cheeks to and fro as she called out: 'Oh, David, yes, you are coming! Oooh, what a lot! What delightful spurtings! Fill me!

Flood my bum!' We rode on whilst David expelled his balsam of creamy white juice inside Eliza's bottom. He withdrew his prick with a 'pop' from her arse and Johnny and I slowed our manual ministrations to Eliza's titties and pussey to a gradual stop. Sir, I have previously read in your columns a letter from a Lady of Quality on the poor performance Of the male when it comes to matters of sexual stamina. Certainly, I must agree that in this case Eliza and I remained disappointed that whilst our appetites had not yet been fully satisfied, we could not bring the two penises up to play again despite all the tender ministrations we attempted with our hands and mouths.

Truth to tell, John and David were both almost asleep when I turned to my side to examine the beautiful naked charms of Eliza who lay beside me. My eyes drank in the beauty of the large globes of her breasts, and my hand reached out to rub one of the little nipples to a hardness. She sighed as I did so, and moved onto her back as I slid my hand along her thigh till my fingers rested upon the curly moss of red hair that overhung the entrance to her cunney. And what a pussey the lovely girl possessed, a most ravishing affair almost beyond description. The bushy Mount of Venus swelled up into a hillock of firm flesh, surmounted and covered with the rich profusion of red hair, silky and smooth to the touch. The lips were most luscious, pouting outwards, and my finger and thumb found the hardening clitty as she gasped: 'Oh yes, yes, Jenny, finish me off as soon as you can!

I am likely to spend very quickly!' 'You have a delicious cunney, Eliza, and if I were a man I would be delighted to fuck you,' I said, kissing her full gorgeous pussey. My tongue ran the length of her parted lips and she shuddered as I stopped at her clitty which was by now already hardened into a little ball. I gave it my best attention, nibbling from side to side, up and down as she jerked and writhed, making it a little difficult to keep my mouth on her passion pit. I played with her titties for a little and then resumed my licking and lapping as Eliza threw back her head and twisted from side to side in a paroxysm of erotic fervour as her climax neared its peak. 'Oh!

Oh! Push your tongue further up my cunney! How exquisite! Further!

Harder!' she cried out as, with a shudder, she gained her release, yelping happily as her love juices dribbled over my face and I swallowed as much of her emission as possible. 'I think I want to spend again,' panted the adorable titian-haired beauty. 'Sit on my face and we can suck each other's pussies.' So I straddled her and thrust my blonde pussey over her mouth. Her teeth nibbled along my cunney lips and gently over my clitty whilst her pink, pointed tongue teased my pussey with long, rasping licks. I dove down to give her cunt another thorough stimulation with my tongue and fingers. Her pungent feminine juices tasted like nectar as I played with her love button between my lips. I pushed my arse in the air so she could thrust her tongue deeper inside me, and soon she was greedily licking the very inside of my cunney. 'I'm going to spend!' I told her.

'So am I, let's climax together! Fill me with your tongue and fingers!' Quickly I pushed two fingers up into her crack, still keeping my mouth glued to her pulsating pussey. She ground her mound right into my face as she arched her body and came with a great silent scream, drenching my face again with her juices which flowed freely from her cunney. 'I'm sure you can come again, Jenny,' Eliza said with a wicked little grin playing around her mouth. She lay me flat on my back, my thighs spread wide and my legs slightly raised. The dear girl then massaged my pussey with both hands, the left hand moving rapidly over my clitty and two fingers of her right hand moving briskly in and out of my cunney as I let out a sharp cry of pleasure, my hips now bucking up and down as Eliza sank her fingers deeper and deeper inside me. 'Aaah! Here I come!' I cried out as I writhed as one demented, shuddering to a lovely orgasm, then I lay still, gasping for breath. The exertions of the evening coupled with the ill-effects of the lobster salad meant that Johnny Lynch was still hors de combat, but David Haines' magnificent penis was now rising to the occasion, stimulated no doubt by the display of tribadism he had just witnessed. With one bound he was on top of us and he pushed me to one side and rolled Eliza onto her tummy. 'On your knees my darling girl!' he commanded as she obediently pushed her delectable bum cheeks out towards him. He gently forced her legs open a little further and clasped her round the ribs to play with her horned-up nipples, squeezing and nipping them as she stooped down with head nuzzling into the pillow. David's monstrous cock was now springing up between the rondeurs of Eliza's luscious bum when the trembling girl called out: 'No, not in my bum, dear David, as it is still recovering from the last encounter. But do feel free to go up my cunt from behind.' 'Your wish is my command, lovely lady,' said David, and I helped matters along by taking his great shaft in my hands and guiding it slowly towards her inviting wet crack until the tip of his knob touched her cunney lips. 'That's divine, darling, what a splendid staff you have. Do slide it in my wet, waiting pussey,' she encouraged him. 'Wait, though, perhaps Jennifer would like your big cock in her cunt. If so, I think you should transfer to her lovely little crack.' 'You are very kind but I think I would rather watch than participate,' I said. 'If you are sure, sister, then I will enjoy myself with this slick truncheon that is filling my juicy cunney so delightfully,' she responded. Her bottom rose with every shove as he drove home, excited to such raging peaks, the contractions of her delightfully tight cunney soon sucked the boiling seed out of his tool, sending the hot frothy spunk pumping through in thick wads as he heaved his throbbing shaft in and out of her dripping crack with all his youthful strength. We slept peacefully until dawn, when David padded quietly back to Miss Terry's rooms to ensure that she was still asleep. He woke her up with a cup of tea and two slices of dry toast and thankfully, both she and Lieutenant Lynch were fully recovered by mid-day. Now, Mr. Editor, you may well ask why this little escapade shows that the art of chivalry is thankfully still with us? My answer is simply this: firstly, we must consider the chivalrous manner of Doctor Tong who, on hearing that Lieutenant Lynch was suffering from a severe stomach pain, withdrew his therapeutic tool from the moist, clinging cunney of Gwendoline Bracknell to rush over post-haste to Albemarle Street. Then we may consider his generous acceptance of tit-fucking me instead of presenting a bill for a substantial sum. Then I may point to the spirit of 'what's-mine-is-yours-and-what's-yours-is-mine' extant between Lieutenant Lynch and David Haines as far as both Eliza and myself were concerned. And, of course, there was the similar share-and-share alike attitude between Eliza and myself to be taken into account. To close this true, unvarnished aide memoire, I should add that Eliza wished to be acquainted with the sexual potency of Doctor Tong and, as I quite fancied the idea myself, I readily consented to take part in a little jeu d'amour. So, two days later, we found ourselves naked on the crisp white sheets of Doctor Tong's bed, with the good doctor slipping off his robe and exposing his trusty truncheon which saluted us by standing stiffly up-against his belly.

This was a luscious sight and we begged him to fuck us as soon as possible, without too much foreplay. 'With pleasure, my dears.

Jenny, please be so good as to straddle my face so I can tickle your pussey with my tongue, whilst Eliza rides a St George on my cock,' asked the genial doctor. This was most pleasurable and, as Eliza and I faced each other, we kissed and fondled each other's breasts, making our nipples rise up until they resembled rich, red stalks, whilst Eliza slid her extremely juicy cunt up and down the doctor's shaft. I too bobbed up and down as he licked and lapped my own dripping pussey. After this, each of us sucked his prick and balls in turn and then he mounted me from behind and pressed his cock between my bum cheeks into my willing cunney, whilst Eliza kissed and sucked his hairy ballsack. He climaxed with a great groan and oiled my pussey with a copious emission of spurting seed, after which followed my own delightful spend. Doctor Tong was so enamoured with our fun and games that he proposed another session, this time with a third lady, Miss Catherine Sloper, the American heiress who is known for her delights of orgiastic joys in both London and New York. He will also attempt to interest the greatest cocksman of them all, Mr. Peter Stockman, whose enormous prick is the talk of London Society, but I fear that his diary of fucking engagements is full until late September, in which case Sir Andrew Stuck will no doubt kindly act as a not unworthy substitute. However, whoever takes part, I know they will be pleased to see my report in the pages of your excellent publication. I am, Sir, Your Obedient and Humble Servant, Jennifer Everleigh Webb House Hill Street Mayfair London, W September, 1892 N.B. I shall be abroad until the end of October. My cousin Miss Molly Farquhar and myself have been invited by Count Gewirtz of Galicia to be his guests at the Celebration Ball to commemorate the Silver Wedding of The Prince and Princess of Shmocklestein, and we shall spend some weeks with Sir David Cuthbertson in Paris. When we return, I shall recount our adventures in a letter which I hope will interest readers of this splendid journal. And may I take this opportunity of stating that HRH has never spent the night with me. I have indeed sucked the Royal Pego but our liaison has never gone beyond the bounds of good taste. I trust these few words will now scotch this foul rumour.

The morals of the young are not what they were in my day. Now, do not imagine that I shall now launch a tirade about Our Youth Going To The Dogs. I leave such nonsense to Mrs.

Grundy, the Reverend Bowdler, and all the would-be killjoys who sub rosa much envy the golden boys and girls who have boldly decided to sample all the forbidden joys of l'arte de faire l'amour. No, Sir, I write to you not in such a mean spirit of anger or of jealousy; my purpose in taking up my pen is solely to illustrate how the iron hand of repression can never jail the spirit of desire and how young people today are determined to experience the fruits of love-for as Mr. Disraeli comments: 'We are all born for love-it is the principle of existence and its only end.' This illustrative narrative is written, I must assure you, with the permission of all those whose names appear in this racy tale. Most of the action took place at Sir Trelford Stamp's London house in perhaps the most fashionable street in Belgravia. I shall not divulge the full address, or those of your readers not acquainted with the gentleman may pester him for invitations to his next dinner party. Those of us privileged to count ourselves friends of the seventh baronet know him to be of a most liberal disposition. This, of course, befits a handsome bachelor of some forty-five years of age who, whilst employed as a senior writer by one of our more salubrious journals, is himself extremely wealthy in his own right having had the good fortune to inherit three hundred and seventy five thousand pounds from his Uncle Rowland, twenty-seven years ago. Far more important than his scribblings, however, are his somewhat recherche parties held in D*** Street, one of which I was invited to last Wednesday week after meeting Trelford by chance in the lounge of the Jim Jam Club in Great Windmill Street, to which I had journeyed for my weekly game of whist. I play there every Tuesday evening with Lord Adrian Bourne, Doctor Jonathan Arkley and Mr. Peter Stockman whose gigantic penis must one day fall off from extreme wear and tear if there is any justice left in the world. The latest rumour is that Mrs. Keppel and Mrs. Langtry have both sampled the joys of Mr.

Stockman's extraordinary member, but that is neither here nor there, as the actress said to the bishop. Fortunately for my own bank account, Lord Bourne has as much card sense as a pair of Lady Everleigh's tweezers, but he is man enough to pay for his lessons in card play. Nevertheless, he should watch carefully when I mix and deal the cards as I must admit that my Lord Bourne could then, with more truth than he would realise, recite the words of the poet: 'I do not like the way the cards are shuffled, But yet I like the game and want to play.' However, I am guilty of digression; Sir Trelford invited me to dine with him the next evening and I accepted with pleasure. However, as we were taking our leave, I suddenly remembered my promise to John, the son of my country neighbours Professor and Mrs. Walsh, that he could visit me for a week during his half-term holiday as a sixteenth birthday treat. 'Trelly,'

I called after him. 'I have just remembered that Professor Walsh's son John is staying with me for a week beginning tomorrow. The scamp is looking forward to coming to London immensely and I cannot let him down.' 'Great God, I haven't seen John for ages-is he really sixteen now? Well, I'll be damned, how time flies. I expect he's a chip off the old block like all those hot-blooded young pups. I last saw him some years back when I went down to his school to present the annual prizes.' 'He would very much like to be a gay young blade but John is very shy, and at Greyfriars he has been given no chances whatsoever to sample even a morsel of the delights afforded by wine, women and song,' I said with a note of genuine regret. 'Whilst John is a very agreeable young chap who, like myself, is a bit of a bookworm and appears to like nothing better than to peruse the stock at Gastons' Library during his vacation. Nevertheless, I did see him once looking at the prints in Harts Holywell Street shop, and from the bulge in the front of his trousers, he is at least a devotee of the undraped female form and has left the usual public school nonsenses far behind him,' I added. 'Well, no matter, Freddy, no matter, bring the boy along. I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll invite Colonel Neil and ask him to bring his niece. You know the man, by the way? He is something of an arriviste who has tunnelled his path into Society through brown-tonguing the necessary persons who supposedly make up the great and the good. Anyhow, his niece Patricia lives with him, whilst her parents are in America, and she can partner young Walsh,' said the genial baronet. 'Thank you, Trelly, that is awfully kind of you. I'm sure John will be tremendously bucked by being invited to dine in D*** Street. We'll see you tomorrow, then, at eight o'clock,'

I said, waving to Lord Bourne who had just entered the club. In fact, I won only ten pounds at cards that evening, but I was in a good temper when young John Walsh arrived at my house the next day. After ordering Perrick to take up his cases, I settled the handsome youngster in a comfortable chair, passed him a whisky and soda and decided to tell him of our new arrangements without delay. 'I have some exciting news for you, John. We have both been invited to dine at Sir Trelford Stamp's house tonight. I know I said we would visit Covent Garden, but we can see this new Opera, what's it called, Cavalleria Rusticana, another evening. In fact, I've accepted the offer of old Jolyon Forsyte's box there for Saturday night, so you will not miss out.' The boy flushed as he said: 'Sir, that is very good of you, but I've never attended a formal dinner party before, and though I know which way to pass the port, I am totally without experience in making conversation to adults other than my family. Surely it would be most unfair to burden other guests with my presence.' 'Stuff and nonsense,' I said heartily. 'In fact, Sir Trelford needs you to squire the niece of one of his friends, Colonel Neil of the 69th Paisley Division, who has also been invited. I am sure that you will enjoy the evening immensely.' He hesitated a moment before saying: 'Must we really go?' 'Of course we must go!

As I said, you will have a jolly time there. Ah, wait a moment, perhaps I have worried you by telling you about Colonel Neil's niece.'

'How sagacious of you, sir! I will admit it, I am deucedly shy when it comes to meeting girls. I have had so little experience, you see, and frankly, I am terrified that I will make an ass of myself.'

So it was with some foreboding that I ordered Perrick to lay out our white ties and tails for seven o'clock sharp. In fact, John looked quite splendid in his evening attire. His curly hair, his handsome face and winning smile would surely not disappoint Colonel Neil's niece who I had heard was an extremely pretty young lady. I am a stickler for punctuality, so my coachman deposited us just seven minutes after eight o'clock at Sir Trelford's magnificent house. We were ushered into the morning room where some earlier arrivals were drinking champagne. Sir Trelford pulled us over to a rather stout Scottish gentleman and said: 'I don't think you gentlemen have met each other before. Colonel Neil, this is my old friend the Reverend Horace Bent-Organ, and the young man is John Walsh who I had the pleasure of giving the Victor Ludorum Award for English Literature at the annual Grey friars School prizegiving some time back. Horace, young Walsh, meet Colonel Neil who I believe is about to make one further introduction.' 'Indeed I am,' said the plump gentleman, gently pulling round a blonde-haired girl who had her back to us as she put down an empty glass on the tray proferred by a waiter. He continued: 'This is my niece, Miss Patricia Hiller of Kensington.

Patricia, may I present the Reverend Bent-Organ and Mr. John Walsh.'

Well, the Colonel may have been rather stout and plain of countenance, but Miss Hiller was a truly lovely girl, perhaps just a year or two older than my own protege. Her pretty face was set off by a mop of blonde hair, a pair of large, merry blue eyes and a generous mouth. And her low-cut peach gown set off admirably the snowy prominence of her large bosoms. Both John and myself were momentarily tongue-tied as we drank in her beauty, and it was fortunate that Miss Hiller herself broke the brief silence by saying in a sweet voice: 'Are you still a pupil at Greyfriars Academy, Mr. Walsh? I once met Clive Wingate who I believe was Captain of the School.' 'Oh yes, Miss Hiller, Wingate was a capital fellow, but I have not seen him since he went up to Oxford in September. He was also captain of football and I played with him in the school team.' 'Offer her a drink,' I hissed quietly at John, who was still somewhat ill at ease, 'and then ask her about how she likes living in London, which is something you have always wanted to do.' He took my advice to heart, perhaps over-enthusiastically, for I saw him make several trips to the champagne bar. In fact, Sir Trelford had arranged a buffet supper which I have always enjoyed for its informality. I noticed the young couple deep in conversation and, whilst waiting for my own paramour to arrive (this is, of course, Lady Jacques who had told Sir Trelford that she would not be able to arrive until ten o'clock as her husband was catching the sleeper train to Aberdeen that evening-I mention her name as our liaison is hardly unknown to readers of this magazine), I decided to eavesdrop on the two young people who were sitting side by side on the couch in Sir Trelford's drawing room.

'So you won the Victor Ludorum?' said Patricia gaily. 'Is that anything like the Victor Pudendum award given at the special shows at the Jim Jam Club?' Good heavens! How could this sweet young girl (who I found out from Colonel Neil was only eighteen years old) know about the orgiastic affairs at the Jim Jam! Could my ears be deceiving me? 'The Victor Pudendum,' stammered John, 'I don't know anything about that.' 'Silly boy, it is only the most sought-after trophy in London. Members of the Jim Jam Club award it monthly for the best exhibition of fucking,' laughed Patricia gaily. 'It is hardly an event advertised in the columns of The Times, but I assure you that some of the very best people in town can be seen there as either spectators or participants.' 'I've never been to a show myself, but I know Sir Trelford rarely misses a performance,' she continued. 'And as for my dear uncle, Colonel Neil, he managed to wangle himself a place on the judges table last month. May fair gossip has it that it was he who ensured that Sir Antony Mulliken and Mrs. Robert Wapping won the golden goblet that is given to the winners. Yet most people who were present opined that the trophy should have been awarded to Mr. Denis Le Baigue and Lady Roberta Cripps who fucked blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs.' At this juncture, I must state that I fully agreed with Patricia's assessment, for I must confess that I was at that affair as a guest of Lord Pokingham and, like others, believed that Colonel Neil may have made a prior arrangement with Mrs. Wapping as she is commonly reckoned to be extremely accommodating whilst her husband is in Australia. 'Perhaps we could go together to the Jim Jam for the next Victor Pudendum,'

Patricia murmured, snuggling up close to John and placing her hand on his knee. 'Meanwhile, John, I suggest we leave the party until the dancing begins in about an hour or so. 'Let us retire upstairs to one of the bedrooms. I am sure we will not be missed,' added the forward little golden-haired minx with an undisguised gleam of lust in her eyes. What should I do in this awkward situation? After all, I was acting in loco parentis as far as Master Walsh, was concerned, and perhaps some of your readers are of the opinion that I should have barred the way to the couple at the foot of the staircase by delivering a well-chosen sermon on lust. But it seemed to me that Miss Hiller was a girl of no little experience and would only enjoy the supreme pleasure of the flesh is she were protected against any unwanted consequences. Just in case there were any problems, however, I decided to follow the couple upstairs and, if necessary, view the proceedings through the keyhole. If Miss Hiller wanted John to spunk outside her cunney, I would at least be on hand to advise him-and anyhow, I am always keen to watch a happy young couple disporting themselves. Indeed, the very thought of that night's adventures is making my old pego stand at this very moment. It happened that my task was made easier when I heard Patricia tell John to go into the third bedroom on the left, and that she would follow him a minute or two later. Now I knew (do not inquire as to how this knowledge came into my possession!) that this room, which also enjoyed an en suite bathroom, was connected by a door to the adjacent smaller guest room into which I slipped whilst no one was looking. I locked the door behind me and scuttled across to the connecting door. I found it was already slightly ajar, so I switched off the electric light and brought up a chair so that I could view the proceedings next door in comfort. I guessed correctly that Patricia and John would be too involved with each others' bodies to even notice the fractionally open door into my darkened room. John was sitting on the bed when Patricia came in just moments after I had settled down in my chair.

She locked the door behind her and placed the key on a side table before taking out her hairclips, allowing her golden locks to fall freely down to her shoulders. 'My, my, John, haven't you even taken your shoes and socks off yet?' she teased my shy lad. He blushed to the roots of his curly hair and said: 'I never thought about removing even my jacket. You see, I have never been alone with a girl before and I don't really know the form.' 'You mean you've never kissed a girl before?' she said incredulously. 'Not ever, John? Can that really be true?' 'I'm afraid so-except for a peck under the mistletoe at Christmas and last term at Greyfriars, Julie, one of the kitchen maids, one afternoon let me touch her titties for two shillings whilst she rubbed my cock behind the sports pavilion. But we had all our clothes on, of course. So I will confess to you that I have never seen a naked girl before in the flesh, though together with my form-mates I had a jolly good look at some prints young Vernon-Smith brought back from Hotten's Bookshop in Piccadilly on his last half-holiday.' 'Your honesty does you credit,' said the delicious girl slowly. 'However, I think it is high time that your education was taken further than Hotten's photographs or the pages of The Oyster. Take off your jacket, waistcoat, shoes and socks and lie down on the bed, John. Let's see what you make of the real thing.'

He obeyed her with alacrity and sat propped up on the bed as she slipped out of her shoes and ran quickly to the bathroom. She emerged a minute later with her dress unbuttoned and, standing just a foot in front of the lad, bade him tug at the sash of her gown. He pulled it, the sash fell to the ground, the gown opened and she stepped out in all her naked glory. Whilst in the bathroom she had obviously removed her stockings and underclothes and she stood before John (and myself!) like a glorious statue come magically to life. Her beautiful full breasts swung gracefully as she pirouetted lightly on the balls of her feet, letting John have full view of her total nudity. What a delectable, ravishing, enchanting sight! Her creamy white skin showed off her curvaceous breasts to their best advantage whilst her well-rounded shoulders tapered down to a small waist; her delicate feet expanded upwards into fine calves and her thighs were full and proportionately fashioned, whilst hanging down between them, forming a perfect veil over a pouting little crack, was a mass that contrasted so well with the whiteness of her belly. Poor John was quite overwhelmed at the sight of her delicious naked body, though the perceptible bulge in the front of his trousers showed that he was very appreciative of the display. Patricia now jumped on the bed beside him and said: 'John Walsh, do not fib, are you really a virgin? Tell me the truth for you have nothing of which to be ashamed.' 'Yes, I have yet to fuck my first girl, though the delightful thought of having such an opportunity has exercised my mind for many months.

Indeed, I think about nothing else. Even in the middle of a mathematics lesson my cock will suddenly swell up whilst I am trying to concentrate on algebraic, formulations,' he whispered. 'Oh, how dreadful,' she said, kissing him lightly on the lips. 'We can't have this terrible problem affecting your schoolwork, can we?

Virginity can be a great burden at your age, and it will be my delight to lift this yoke from your shoulders.' His trembling hands clasped hers as he said: 'Will you really? You aren't just teasing me, are you?' 'No, I mean what I say. You are fortunate indeed that my monthly bleeding has ended only this morning, so there is no bar whatsoever to any lovemaking if you really would like to do so.'

'Would a man crazy with thirst refuse a drink?' he countered, his voice cracking with barely suppressed emotion. 'Patricia, I would love to fuck you more than anything else in the whole, wide world!'

For an answer, she smoothed her hand over the hillock which had formed over his lap and slowly unbuckled his braces. She then expertly opened the buttons of his fly and took out his bursting tool which was of a surprising thickness for one so young, and began to massage the shaft, drawing back his foreskin to make its red crown swell and bound in her hand. 'I will spend if you do that for much longer. Please may I fuck you without further ado?' begged the anxious lad. Patricia gave a little smile and murmured that usually some foreplay occurred that added spice to the occasion. 'But then I have taken you down to the edge of the sea and it would be wickedly unfair to deny you a bathe.' She reached down to guide his throbbing penis on its first ever journey through the slippery entrance to heaven. His blunt fleshy knob hovered between her juicy cunney lips and she spread her legs well apart to enable him to push further down. I saw John tremble, almost overcome with the emotion of crossing the Rubicon, but after sliding his shaft fully into her pussey he lay motionless and Patricia looked at him in surprise. 'Isn't that nice, John? Now be a good boy and fuck me.' 'What do I actually have to do?'

'It's very easy, my poor boy. Just push in and out until you feel your spunk rushing through your cock and then let nature take its course.' Her hands slipped down to clasp his taut little bottom cheeks, and young John proved himself to be a quick learner. His arms went under her shoulders as she eagerly lifted her hips to welcome the thrusting prick that slid in and out of her juicy cunt. What the lad lacked in experience he certainly made up for in enthusiasm, bouncing up and down on her pneumatic bosoms as she clawed his jerking bum and heaved herself upwards to pull him further into her. His jerking became even wilder as he plunged deeper and deeper, feeling the delights for the first time of his cock being caressed by the slippery membranes of Patricia's cunney. He rode her like a jockey at Royal Ascot as she lifted her arse and rotated her hips as she felt his body stiffen and knew that the moment of truth was all too near. John pumped even harder and I could hear the sound of his balls slapping against her bottom as, with a little shout, he unleashed a flood of hot spunk into her cunney so powerfully that the juices oozed out of her luscious love nest and trickled down her thighs. After a few further frantic quiverings, he took out his semi-limp affair and rolled over onto his back, drained emotionally rather than physically from the experience. 'Was that good for you?' he panted. 'I enjoyed it, but you must try and fuck more slowly at first. It takes longer for a lady to spend and a considerate lover always waits for his partner if he possibly can.' 'Oh dear, I'm afraid I didn't do very well.' 'Yes you did! For a first-timer you score top marks!

It is so strange, though, that youths in their physical prime do find it so difficult to hold back their climaxes. This is why I prefer to fuck with older men, though your tool looks good enough to eat. Oh, I assume that this too will be new to you, for presumably no lucky girl has ever sucked this velvety skinned monster.' 'Sucked it?

Goodness I have only read about such things-is it as pleasant as fucking?' asked the young pupil of his kindly tutoress. Patricia could not resist smiling as she said: 'Many gentlemen would say they actually prefer it, and most ladies enjoy it, as one can suck, at any time without the worry of becoming enceinte. I will show you how it is accomplished.' She knelt down to take the already stiffening shaft in her grasp. Then she gave a quick little moistening lick to the purple knob and proceeded to suck in at least three inches of his twitching tool into her mouth. Patricia was an excellent exponent of the art of fellatio, and John was in the seventh heaven of delight as her moist mouth worked up and down, licking and lapping at every inch of his length, her hand grasping the base as she pumped her head up and down, keeping her lips taut, kissing and sucking until suddenly she pulled her lips away. The juices were now oozing out of the 'eye' on his knob, to be lapped up instantly by her darting pink tongue. One hand now gently massaged his balls and the other clamped itself round his shaft as she jammed her mouth over the mushroom dome and slurped greedily on her lollipop. With a hoarse cry, John spunked a fresh jet of gushy foam into her mouth. She sucked and swallowed every last drop of milky sperm until his prick stopped twitching and began to shrink back to its normal size. They lay sated on the bed, and my own penis was now so uncomfortable within the confines of my trousers that I unbuttoned my flies to let my rampant cock stick out, naked and unashamed, as stiff and as hard as a flagpole. I was sorely tempted to toss myself off, but all being well Lady Jacques would arrive later and I wanted to be in peak condition to fuck this old friend who knew she could rely on my prick for satisfaction and on my mouth for both discretion and a good nibbling around the pussey. Interestingly enough, as this thought crossed my mind, Patricia gave John's cock a final stroke and said: 'Later on tonight I will tell you how to eat pussey, which few Englishmen really know how to do very well. But we had better get dressed and go downstairs now before we are missed-listen, I can hear the band striking up the first waltz.'

Unfortunately, Lady Jacques never arrived at the party as she was suffering from a heavy cold and thought it unwise to travel in the night air. However, my little adventure in voyeurism partially compensated for her absence, and I was delighted for young John Walsh who I know is destined to become a fine cocksman well into the twentieth century. Indeed, if such exciting contests as the Victor Pudendum at the Jim Jam continue to be held, I am certain that he will one day win the treasured golden goblet. The next day I asked him how he enjoyed the party and he told me that he owed an apology for his previous apprehension. 'I would not have missed it for the world,' he assured me, thanking me profusely for insisting upon his attendance, but saying nothing of course of his grand adventure with Miss Hiller. Now the moral I wish to draw from this story is this; years ago such behaviour would have been frowned upon by members of Polite Society. Nowadays, I am glad to say, more liberal attitudes to extra-marital fucking abound, especially amongst the young. Also, the strange notion that a man who manages to plunge his plonker into as many pussies as he can is a rattling good chap, whilst a lady who enjoys sexual sport is no better than she should be, is at last on the wane. Whilst I am not in favour of wanton promiscuity, as the music hall song has it 'a little of what you fancy does you good'!

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant, The Reverend Horace Bent-Organ Dyott House Nicklee Street London S.W. May, 1894