Readers of The Oyster were invited to write to Doctor Jonathan Arkley about any sexual queries, worries and anxieties, with the assurance that all letters would be treated in the strictest confidence and would be answered individually, even if the letter was not published in the magazine. Many may be surprised to learn that one hundred years ago, the 'agony uncle' was soothing away very much the same fears that crop up in contemporary advice columns.*** A MERRY MASTURBATOR Dear Doctor Jonathan, We laughed at the Nursery Rhymes For Our Times in the June Issue of The Oyster-perhaps you recall: There was a young man of high station Attached to the British legation.
He liked being fucked And adored being sucked But he revelled in pure masturbation! I am concerned because like that young continental gentleman, sometimes I am achieving more satisfaction out of playing with myself than actually fucking Alice, my girl friend. Indeed, if I had to choose between fucking Alice and the five fingered widow, I am not sure that I would not plump for a session with the five fingered widow. I have always enjoyed tossing off (for a start, one can choose one's own fantasy) and a recent occurrence also demonstrated to me the joys of taking oneself in hand. Alice stayed for the weekend recently and, early on Saturday morning, I decided to take an early morning stroll before breakfast to purchase a newspaper. When I returned home I padded softly up the stairs, not wishing to wake my dear lady friend. I opened the door as quietly as possible and, to my surprise, saw that she was engaged in a masturbatory exercise. She was lying totally naked on the bed and her legs were spread wide open. One hand was caressing her left breast, tweaking the nipple up to hardness, whilst the other hand was between her legs fingering her juicy pussey”. Her eyes were closed and she did not see or hear me as I stood framed in the doorway. I stood and stared for a minute or two and then went to the bathroom to pull out my erect, throbbing cock. I beat my meat until I shot a huge load of creamy spunk into the bath. My balls were completely drained and I experienced one of the best spends I have ever had in my entire life-I am thirty-seven years old-so I am wondering whether, after all, solitary sex is just as good as actual fucking. Incidentally, Alice told me later that she had seen me in the doorway that day but she was enjoying herself so much she pretended not to have noticed me and that she too is a devotee of frigging.-What do you think? Mr. Philip P. Pelham Street Manchester, Lanes DOCTOR JONATHAN REPLIES:
Sir,
Certainly, nothing is unnatural which is not physically impossible, and it appears that you and Alice could well enjoy a mutual masturbation scenario, which I would recommend. Solitary frigging can be very satisfying and indeed is far, far, better than celibacy-but I would suggest that it can never equal the intensity and the glow one achieves from an orgasm that has been reached 'through sharing and caring' as the American popular song puts it. There's absolutely nothing at all wrong with an occasional tossing off, but frankly speaking it is far more satisfying to fuck. Perhaps you need the stimulation of a new sexual partner, or simply the novelty of some new sexual enjoyments. Do you and Alice engage in soixante-neuf? Write back to me in six months if there is no change in your feelings-you may well like to purchase a bottle of Professor Taylor's tonic wine, meanwhile, which I find to be a fine stimulator of all appetites! Or alternatively purchase Mr. Colin Davis' fine little volume 'Fucking for Beginners' which may be purchased from any progressive bookseller.
Dear Doctor Jonathan, The other evening I was walking down the Strand on my way to a matinee performance of Mr. Michael Cook's new melodrama, The Warehouse, when who should I see striding towards me but the great Mr.
Peter Stockman, perhaps the biggest cocksman in Old London Town.
'Good afternoon, Miss Smyth-Bedforde,' said the handsome old rogue, 'What brings you to town on a warm summer's day?' 'I'm planning to see a performance of The Warehouse at the Lyceum Theatre,'
I replied. 'The reviews of Mr. Cook's production have been so good.'
'Oh dear, I'm afraid that today's matinee has been cancelled due to an outbreak of influenza amongst the east,' he said. 'Such a pity and how disappointing for you, Mary-and for me, too, as I had also decided to see the play this afternoon.' 'Alone, Mr. Stockman?' I said with a cheeky grin. 'I can hardly believe that!' 'It's the truth! Captain Mellor of Kent was supposed to meet me for a game of snooker at our Club, but he cried off this morning as he has been asked to fuck Mrs. Nottsgrove at three o'clock. Her husband is in India, you know, and the good Captain, Doctor Hellen and myself have been taking it in turns to ensure that the loneliness of separation has been eased by some extra-marital frolicking whenever the opportunity arises.' 'How kind of you, Mr. Stockman, to make your prick available to a poor lady in need.' 'It is the least one can do,' he said modestly. 'However, I am surprised that you too were planning to visit the theatre without a gentleman or a chaperone to escort you.' 'Oh, well, to be honest my dear old friend David Taylor was called away suddenly to see his brother who lives in Cockermouth -' 'Perhaps the most suitable place for Mr. Taylor to visit,' he interrupted with a saucy smile playing around his lips. 'It is said that in his home town of Glasgow he is without peer in the art of cunnilingus, though I am sure that I could give him a run for his money.' 'I'm sure you can,' I retorted. 'I doubt if there are any virgins over the age of sixteen left in London thanks to you and your friends! Anyhow, I am foot-loose and fancy free until he returns the day after tomorrow.' We walked back along the Strand and took tea at Philip Ajao's Covent Garden restaurant, which is now perhaps the most fashionable place to see and be seen these days. We stayed an hour or so, and saw Dame Carolyn Caughey there, incidentally, planning some intrigue I'll be bound with Lady Roberta Cripps, Mrs. Langtry and Mrs. Keppel. Then lo and behold, I found myself in Mr. Stockman's delightful apartment in the Adelphi. Even as I write, I have hardly any memory of how we arrived there! 'Let me open a bottle of white wine. Mixed with a little seltzer water, I think you will agree it is a most refreshing drink in this warm weather,' said this sweet Lothario. I shall spare myself and your readers any further blushes, but most people who purchase The Oyster know of Mr. Peter Stockman's well-deserved reputation… I was certainly no match for his polished technique of seduction. Which girl could resist the charms of a mature, tall, good-looking and wealthy man like Peter?
Inside the hour I was lying naked on his bed watching him undress and his slim, athletic frame contrasted so well with my current beau's rather corpulent body. Like so many girls before me, I gasped with wonderment when he pulled down his drawers to reveal his astonishingly thick cock which sprang upwards from the mass of black curly hair at the bottom of his belly, and the tip of which reached above his navel.
He kissed me beautifully, nibbling my ears, and whispered his intentions 'to enjoy your body to the utmost' whilst his calm, experienced fingers caressed and massaged my breasts, rolling my nipples into erection whilst my pussey became decidedly damp, moistening like a dew-drenched flower in eager anticipation of what was to come. 'I am going to eat your pussey now, Mary, and I am certain that you taste even sweeter than Mr. Ajao's cream cakes,' he murmured. Doctor Jonathan, I must state here and now that Mr.
Stockman is a world champion of the fine art of sucking pussies! He placed a large silk pillow beneath my buttocks to ease his access, and then he pushed my knees up to my large breasts and parted them, thus totally exposing my honey blonde bush which almost perfectly matches the colour of my hair. He complimented me on my fine-looking pussey with its pouting lips, and then his head dived between my legs and I felt his tongue gently parting my labia, darting inside as I moaned softly with the pleasure this afforded me. He placed his lips over my clitty and sucked it into his mouth with one hand now under my bum for extra elevation, and the other round my thigh so he could spread my pussey lips with his thumb and middle finger. He soon found the magic button under the fold at the base of my clitty and twirled his tongue cleverly all around it. The faster he vibrated his tongue the more excited I became, and I gyrated madly as his tongue moved even more quickly along the silken grooves of my cunt, licking and lapping my delicious juices that ran down like a stream. With each stroke I arched my body in ecstasy, pressing the erect clitty against the tip of his flickering tongue. 'Aaah!' I moaned, and then yelped with joy as I exploded, flooding his face with my juices as I spent exquisitely in great tumbling spasms. As he rolled off me I reached down to take hold of his enormous shaft which throbbed like hot velvet under my touch. I gave it a little kiss when Peter asked me whether he could have the pleasure of fucking me from behind.
'Certainly,' I replied. 'But please do not go up my bum.' I raised myself up on my knees and turned to face the bedstead and stuck out my bum as provocatively as I could. Peter leaned over me and I felt the crown of his monstrous cock nudge against my pussey lips. He slipped his cock inside me and gently moved in and out in slow rhythmic thrusts. It is quite extraordinary how my poor little pussey channel managed to accommodate his mighty monster, but my juices eased its passage as he pushed in, withdrew, pushed in, withdrew as I shuddered in voluptuous ardour. I know of no feeling of pleasure quite like that of the initial penetration of the cunney by a cocked and loaded prick. Peter felt wonderful, thick and hot, stretching my pussey and filling my cunney deliciously. He used his cock expertly, varying his angle and speed, and his staying power was immense. We must have fucked for at least ten minutes until the wonderful performance ended as he shot thick wads of creamy jism into me as I screamed with delight, for I too spent almost instantaneously as the hot, frothy spunk drenched the walls of my womb. He stayed hard in my cunney for a little while and then slowly withdrew, his cock glistening with our mingled juices, and though we were both ready for another round of fornication we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr. Stockman's friend had sent him a wire asking him to dine at her house tonight as a gentleman had dropped out at the last minute and they would otherwise be thirteen at table unless he made up the numbers. (The alternative would be my poor Uncle Philip having to dine downstairs, which would create problems, as my aunt suspected a relationship between my uncle and Clare, the scullery maid.) So we did not have the chance of fucking in my favourite position, Doctor Jonathan, which brings me now to my question: I enjoyed being fucked from behind, and Mr. David Taylor has had me in various situations: standing up, me on top, sitting on a chair, etc. But I honestly prefer the good old-fashioned way of laying on my back in a comfortable bed and letting the man do most of the work! Am I missing out on hidden joys? Yours affectionately, Mary Smyth-Bedforde 69 Balls Pond Road London, N. July, 1895
DOCTOR JONATHAN REPLIES:
Madam,
This is a psychological problem and I believe that you both need to work towards a solution. Certainly, your partner must respect your views and never force you to take part in activities which do not give you pleasure. The so-called 'missionary' position, where the man lies on top of the woman whose legs are spread apart to accommodate him, is the commonest sexual position by far, throughout Europe. It is so popular simply because it is, in my view, the most comfortable sexual position of them all! However, there can be many refinements which are detailed in Fucking For Fun by Professor Kenneth Hall and A Gentleman of Quality, a volume I would recommend to all interested in this grand sport. It may be purchased at Hotten's, Piccadilly and other specialised shops for twelve shillings and sixpence and is worth every penny.
With regard to the missionary position, Professor Hall comments that the sexual act performed thus can be even more enjoyed if the woman twines her legs around the man's waist as he is then capable of thrusting deeper into her vagina with increased sensation accruing to both as the entire length of the man's penis is then stimulated. Another most favoured way to extract additional joy is for the woman to learn the ancient Chinese art of Youg Me Dous, a most clever method of tightening the vaginal muscles enabling her to clasp the entire shaft of the man's penis. This also stimulates a feeling of closeness via the leg embrace, setting it aside from the simplest, straightforward position in which the woman simply lies prone, her legs apart and straight out and where there is therefore only a minimum of body contact.
But variety is the spice of life, Madam, and I think you will miss out if you do not at least experiment with alternative methods of fucking. One of my own favourite positions is that of rear entry. The girl balances herself on her hands and knees, her legs spread as the boy enters from the rear. This can be made more pleasurable if the woman bends forward, throwing her bum cheeks up in the air as high as possible. This method is frowned upon by some misguided moralists as being too 'animalistic', though anatomically it is a most natural position for sexual contact. A girl can support a boy's weight more easily since she is on her hands and knees with her back and thigh muscles (the strongest in the body) working. Both of the boy's hands are free to fondle and stimulate the girl's breasts, nipples, legs and bum and indeed can thrust his penis inside the vagina whilst at the same time frigging her clitoris to afford his partner extra joy.
Another position I can recommend was demonstrated to my by Miss Susannah O'Mahoney, the well-known bicyclist. Being athletic, after I have inserted my pego inside her oily love channel, she manages to keep one leg on the bed and is then able to lift the other one right up over my shoulder so that she is almost performing 'the splits'.
This enables her to spend very quickly as different positions of the legs create different pressures inside the vagina and this particular exercise makes my cock seem larger and penetration even deeper.
My advice, therefore, is to follow an empirical philosophy regarding your fucking. Partake of all the many joys of love-making, refining those arts that you enjoy and discarding those which you do not find pleasurable. This will take some time to accomplish, for the Indian Kama Sutra lists at least twenty major sexual positions, though Professor Hall insists that there are really only six, with all others being mere variants.
Dear Doctor Jonathan,
I will not hide behind a veil of false modesty. I am nineteen years old, raven-haired and blessed with a pretty face and a pleasing bodily development of large breasts, a small waist and long legs. I have been fucked by a clutch of lovers, including Sir Ronnie Dunn, Count Gewirtz and even the great cocksman himself, Mr. Peter Stockman.
All these gentlemen and the others whose pricks I have sucked and fucked have given me great pleasure, but none have managed to make me spend as liberally as my next door neighbour. What is so surprising about that? you ask. Well, my next door neighbour is a sweet-faced girl of the same age as myself, who I did not realise harboured lesbian tendencies until an experience I shared with her last week at Lord Adrian's Midsummer Ball for Aged Booksellers at Bourne Castle, near Ashby de la Zouch, Leicestershire. Although the dancing did not begin till past nine o'clock, the weather was extremely close and my neighbour-her name is Miss Clare Ponsonby-and I found ourselves sitting outside the ballroom on the terrace. We had deliberately not filled in our cards for the fourth and fifth dances as we had guessed that the room would become extremely hot.
'Georgina, why don't we go down to the stream at the bottom of the garden?' suggested Clare, and I readily agreed with her idea as I thought we could well find some cooler air there. 'I have left two large towels there which we can sit upon and let the air get to our bodies,' she added. We made our way carefully down to the stream, and even thought it was now almost ten o'clock, there was still some light coming from the darkening sky. The stream runs through a rather deep bank and as we clambered down we heard some rather exciting sounds emanating from behind a bush. Who should we discover there but Mr. Oscar Wilde buggering a pretty young man who was in Lord Bourne's service. 'Mr. Wilde, I thought you had turned over a new leaf!' scolded Clare. 'So I have, my dear,' panted the poet, thrusting his prick in and out of the poor lad's bum.
'Only I have begun at the bottom of the page!' I burst out into a fit of giggles as we moved further along the wide bank, when Clare said: 'Why don't we cool ourselves off by taking off our clothes and lying naked in the grass. I see that the towels I brought down earlier have not been purloined by others, so we have something upon which to lie.' We lay naked together on the large towels Clare had thoughtfully provided and I was resting peacefully, when the wicked girl rolled over and nibbling in my ear said: 'Darling, you have the most fabulous breasts. I wish mine were as plump as yours with such large, beautifully formed pink aureoles and high-tipped nipples.'
I was so dumbfounded that I said nothing when she placed her fingers around my left nipple and began to roll it around on her palm until it stiffened up like a miniature cock. She then placed her hand upon the fine downy hair that covered my delicate notch and began to massage my thighs. The experience was not totally foreign to me as we had experimented in such matters at St Carola's Academy For The Daughters of Gentlefolk, but though I had enjoyed the experience at the time, I had reserved my pussey exclusively for cocks and dildoes since those days. However, Clare's busy fingers made my heart quicken and my whole body tremble with desire. I soon felt quite light-headed as she took all the liberties she desired with me, kissing and sucking my pretty breasts, frigging my erect little clitty and handling my bum cheeks lasciviously. When she eased a finger into my dampening crack, I sighed and raised up my bottom to enjoy to the utmost the delicious sensations. Now her finger was joined by a second and then a third as she finger-fucked me at an ever-increasing rate.
Clare now moved up over me and, still keeping her fingers embedded in my cunt, kissed me passionately on the mouth. Her velvet tongue slithered between my lips to make contact as her fingers plunged in and out of my juicy cunney. Oh, it was such blissful agony!
The clever little minx then left off her manual stimulation and replaced her fingers with her tongue as she grasped my bum cheeks, one in each hand, and buried her face in my pussey, her mouth pressed against the soft, yielding flesh, probing my slit gently with her tongue. Soon we were entwined together in a soixante neuf. Her head was firmly ensconced between my thighs whilst my own tongue licked and lapped around her sweet snatch. My mouth was now glued to her dripping slit and I rolled and flicked my tongue across her delicious pussey, sucking and nipping at the tender clitty in much the same way as she was working at me. We sighed and groaned together as we lay side by side with our heads deep between each other's legs.
I was tonguing deep inside her beautiful cunney and her juices were flowing freely and her clitty was quite enormous with excitement. I nipped her clitty again, playfully sucking and biting it as she in turn sucked up the love juice pouring from my own pussey, licking and lapping with a great ardour. 'Ooooh! That is delightful!' I panted. 'Now please pull on my clitty and make me spend!' The gorgeous girl wrenched her mouth from my sopping muff and replaced it for a second session with her long, tapering fingers. Immediately, she found my swollen love-button and stroked it expertly. Before my body began thrashing wildly about in a frenzied ecstasy as she slid a finger into my bottom-hole. I thought my body would fairly explode as spasms of excitement ran through my body, culminating in a gigantic peak of orgasmic lust. 'Now it is my turn to spend, darling,' she said, writhing delightfully as I pushed my mouth hard up against her, moving my entire head back and forth. I nuzzled my lips between her swollen cunney lips that were oozing love juice and I sucked upon her hard little clitty, flicking my fluttering tongue in and out of her lovely little hairy quim, sucking and slurping the juices from her cunt, filling the night air with the scent of raw sex. I could feel Clare's orgasm build inside her and I worked my tongue even harder, whilst at the same time inserting my forefinger into her sopping muff, deeper and deeper, until she screamed with delight as she spent copiously in waves of pure energy that coursed through her body.
We lay panting with exhaustion, but suddenly I heard the sound of heavy breathing just behind us. I turned my head, Doctor Jonathan, and perhaps you and readers of The Oyster will divine the sight that met my eyes. There, just ten yards from us stood young Adam Bucknall, nephew of the infamous Sir William, his trousers down by his ankles and his erect shaft cupped in his right hand, playing with himself, capping and uncapping the knob of his stalwart staff. 'Don't mind me, you two, just carry on!' he muttered as he rubbed away furiously at his thick prick. Well, it seemed like a terrible waste to let that fat cock spunk into his hand, so I called out to Adam that he should join us as soon as he had divested himself of his remaining clothes.
With commendable alacrity he shed the offending garments, and in a most gentlemanly way he asked me if I would consent to be bum-fucked as he had a great fancy for such action. 'Oh, Adam,' I faltered.
'I have never had a prick up my bottom before. I hope you wilt not hurt me.' 'Have no fear, Georgina, the bottom-hole can be a most delightful channel of bliss and it will open up your senses to a ravishment of which you have hither had no conception. Besides, you won't get a swollen belly from being fucked in the bum and you can truthfully tell your current beau that you are saving your pussey solely for him!' he said cheerfully, bending down by the stream to wet his stiff cock with water. I lay down as instructed on my elbows with my bottom cheeks firmly pushed out, and he angled my legs further apart to afford himself a better view of my wrinkled little rosette.
But despite his promise, it felt uncomfortable when the crown of his thick prick entered the tightened orifice. 'Ow! Ow! I don't think this is much fun,' I gasped. But Adam pushed on and the sphincter muscle gradually relaxed and I began to enjoy the delightful frigging of my cunney as he drew his arms round me, pushing gently but firmly with his cock so that, as Adam had forecast, the initial pain gave way to a most extraordinary and pleasurable sensation as his movements stirred me up to the very highest pitch of excitement. His cock throbbed and bounced inside my tight sheath as if spring-loaded and it now plunged in easily to and fro, pumping away like an engine. I reached back and spread my cheeks even further, and my bum jerked in time with Adam's rhythm until he exploded into me in a rush of liquid fire as we spent almost together in perfect accord. He withdrew his still stiff weapon with an audible 'pop' leaving my puckered nether-hole well-lathered for the first time in its life. 'I think there is still some life there,' said Clare thoughtfully, taking Adam's cock in her hands and rubbing up the shaft till it stood up as proudly as before. 'It looks good enough to eat, don't you think?' It certainly did and Clare and I knelt down naked in front of this magnificent prick, taking turns to lick the shaft, and then Clare gobbled the knob and two inches or so of the shaft greedily into her mouth and began to suck lustily upon it. I kissed and licked around his pulsating ballsack.
Then we swapped places and I licked and lapped at the pink knob, savouring the salty sensuality of its taste. He thrust his slippery prick deeper into my mouth as I helped him by sliding my lips as far down the shaft as possible, feeling his wiry pubic hair tickling my nose as I inhaled its perspiring fragrance. He spent very quickly and I swallowed his spunk in great gulps, pulling him hard into my mouth as he delivered the contents of his big balls deep in my throat. I sucked on his cock until the last drops had been milked and his member began to shrink back to its normal size. Now, Doctor, my question is this: am I really a tribade manque for allowing myself to take part in two-girl sexual activity with Clare, and do you think I was wrong to let young Adam stick his prick up my bum? And indeed, do you feel it was wrong for Clare and I to share the sucking off of his lovely penis? I await your comments with great interest, Your obedient servant, Georgina Cambridge c/o Rotherwick Lodge Luton, Bedfordshire May, 1890
DR JONATHAN REPLIES:
No, I do not believe that a single enjoyable sexual experience with a member of your own sex makes you a tribade! And certainly, I would be the first to suggest that whilst the good old-fashioned man-on-top method of fucking is the most widely practised, many couples prefer very different and indeed strange ways of achieving satisfaction. My old friend Sir Graham Giddens prefers to keep his hat on in bed, whilst one of the most sophisticated young men about town, Monsieur Max Dalmine of Bordeaux, never fails to anoint his prick with champagne before attempting an anal insertion. So do not worry simply because you enjoyed a sexual experience away from the established mainstream. I have always maintained that the whole experience of sex is greater than the sum of its parts, though every part has its pleasure and every pleasure its part. In normal love play, anything can happen-and usually does sooner or later.
Dear Doctor Jonathan, I am sixteen years old and am currently in the Lower Sixth Form at Reverend Dunton-Green's Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk in Kent. The school is run on liberal principles but there is an appalling dearth of female company. The only women on the School premises are Matron, Cook and a handful of maids. The strange, unnatural separation of the sexes leads to some pretty rum behaviour, as you may well imagine, and it is rumoured that the captain of cricket has buggered more than half the boys of Form 3C. However, though we are forced to turn to copies of The Oyster and other such splendid magazines for our edification and stimulation during our nightly five-finger exercises, it is common knowledge that wanking is but a poor substitute for the genuine article of fucking. This sets the scene for my narrative, Doctor, which began last Thursday afternoon. We were playing Charterhouse at football and we beat them, I am glad to report, by three goals to two. I shall scorn false modesty and relate that I scored two of the goals. After the game we repaired to the wash-house but, alas, the plumbing, which had given trouble last winter, obstinately refused to deliver more than a trickle of water. So instead we used the facilities in the school itself and, being a sub-prefect, I enjoyed the luxury of my own bathroom which adjoins my study. I filled the bath with lashings of hot water and after stripping off, plunged myself into the warmth.
I soaped myself down and relaxed, enjoying the comfort of the deep bath. I looked at the towel-rail and saw that in my haste I had forgotten to put out a towel. I heaved myself out of the water, not hearing my study door open as I padded out to retrieve a towel from my linen cupboard. I opened the door and I don't know who was more surprised-myself or Sarah, the cheeky little girl who worked for Matron, who was standing open-mouthed in the middle of the room with a linen-basket at her feet. I was bollock-naked, if you will excuse the expression, and I hastily cupped my cock and balls with my hand as I gasped: 'Oh, I am sorry, Sarah, I did not hear you come in.' 'No matter, Master Charlton,' she giggled. 'I only came in to change the sheets on your bed. My, you are rather wet, let me give you a nice, clean towel.' With that pert remark, the pretty young miss stepped across to my cupboard and threw a towel across to me.
Naturally, to catch it I had to use both hands and thus exposed my prick and balls to her gaze. I draped the towel around my back and, realising my nudity might offend (and to tell the truth I was a little embarrassed!), I turned aside and began to dry myself.
'Oh, don't be shy,' she said, walking towards me. 'I know how much you young gentlemen fancy fucking the girls. Have you ever thought how tempting it is for us, so near and yet so far from your youthful masculine good looks, to come in to your study one day and tear off your trousers?' I was dumbfounded at her directness. I was lost for words but nevertheless I slowly turned round to face her.
She reached out and cupped my balls in her hand. 'You really are a most beautiful boy,' she murmured. 'But your cock is dangling down there in such a doleful fashion. Let me see if I can do anything about that.' She swiftly undid the buttons of her blouse, exposing her naked breasts to my amazed, delighted gaze. What globular perfection!
Such curvaceous whiteness topped with the red cherries of her large nipples. I could scarcely believe this was happening to me and I shut my eyes for a moment. I opened them again to see Sarah kneeling down in front of me, kissing and sucking my knob as her busy hands drew back my foreskin and began to rub up and down my fast-stiffening shaft. I felt a delicious stab of desire as she sucked my cock up to full erection, teasing my knob against the roof of her mouth with her tongue and in no time at all I felt the surge of a powerful spend coursing through my throbbing cock. Sarah sensed this and took her sweet lips away for a moment. Then she returned to the attack as she stroked her tongue along the underside of my prick, making it ache with excitement as it throbbed more and more urgently. She squeezed her hand round the base of my shaft, sucking me harder until I could no longer contain myself. My lusty young cock pulsed in her mouth as I gave a small cry and, arching my back, jetted spurt after spurt of creamy white semen full into that adorable mouth, which did not cease to draw upon it until the last drops of white essence had been swallowed. Sarah murmured with satisfaction as she raised the head, kissed my gleaming cock which was only slowly losing a little of its stiffness. 'That was delicious, Jack, your spunk has a lovely salty tang to it. Now what would you say to a real fuck?' 'Yes, please!' I stammered as this gorgeous girl swiftly completed her undressing and stood naked in front of me. We made our way to the bed and she pulled my face towards her and sank her naughty little tongue in my mouth. I stroked her wiry black pussey bush as she then lay back, her head supported by her hands. She moved her tongue between her lips and, taking hold of me, she pulled me across her. I clambered upon her without delay as she opened her legs to allow me to kneel in front of her open cunney. She took my rampant cock in her hand and guided it between her cunney lips. What exquisite pleasure! I enjoyed the grip of her velvet cunney walls as she moved her hips sinuously, as I pumped up and down, my balls smacking lewdly against her bottom with every thrust. I pounded to and fro, my hands clasping her full, round bum cheeks as I felt the spunk boiling up in my balls for a second libation. Alas, I could not wait until she achieved her climax. With a mighty groan I flooded her cunt with a torrent of sperm, as jets of frothy love juice poured out of my prick, completely filling her cunney and dribbling down her inner thighs. To my great regret, she had to finish her domestic duties and so we did not have time for a third encounter. But she has promised me that we will be able to meet again on her days off. I saw her yesterday and we made an arrangement for next week, as her monthly period will have ended by then. Now, Doctor, my query is this. Am I beholden to this charming girl who took my virginity in such a sweet fashion? Should I reward her with a present of some sort, and would monetary gifts be spurned? Jack Charlton c/o Dunton-Green Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk Kent March, 1891
DOCTOR JONATHAN REPLIES:
My dear young man, may I congratulate you on your good fortune to find so kind a mistress on your first journey across the sea of lubricity, upon which we all desire to sail. First love may be idyllic or it can bean unqualified disaster. You will always remember your first sexual union with great pleasure, and I am glad that you wish to reward your partner in some way for her services. I think the actual gift of money would be incorrect. It smacks too much of a commercial transaction. But a gift of clothes or of perfume would not come amiss. It so happens that your name is not entirely unknown to me as I recall Mr. Peter Stockman, the greatest cocksman south of Birmingham, telling me that his sister Mrs. Charlton had a son at your school. So I have taken the liberty of passing your letter to your uncle, who says that you may buy anything up to the value of twenty pounds on his account at the new emporium in Oxford Street, London, Messrs Selfridge's. If you obtain the opportunity to enjoy a whole afternoon of fucking with Sarah, do try and have some refreshments like sandwiches and lemonade available, for the worship of Venus and Priapus requires continual stimulation by the fuel of tasty eatables. Finally, do pass me the address of this delicious girl as I would very much welcome the chance to offer my medical services to her.
Dear Doctor Jonathan,
My boyfriend is the noted publisher Mr. Kenneth Watkins, who is not unknown to readers of The Oyster as his dalliance with Lady Pentos was well documented in these pages two years ago. Mr. Watkins possesses a large country seat in the Midlands and sports a fine ten-and-a-half-inch-long prick, about which I can find no fault except perhaps that my poor cunney does get somewhat sore after a good night's fucking. I can gladly testify that he is a skilled and considerate lover, even though he can now only perform four times a night these days. Not that he has left youth far behind, but as he said to me over a glass of wine the other day: 'to know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom and one of the most difficult chapters in the great book of living.' Alas, he has now developed an obsession about climaxing, of which I hope you will help me rid him. I can best illustrate the problem with an example. Last night we were guests at a dinner given by Lord and Lady Nayland for the noted author Miss Heather Dewsnap whose novel The Shackled Heart has won such wide critical acclaim. We arrived back home just before midnight and I was first to undress after we had completed our toilets. I sat on the bed fondling his rock-hard cock through his trousers, which he unbuttoned to let his manly staff shoot out like a coil. He sat down beside me and worked his hand down my dampening mound, moving his hand between the edges of my crack as we exchanged a passionate kiss. I clasped his hand between my legs as I lowered my head to kiss the majestic crown of his thick prick. 'Let's continue this in bed,' he whispered, and he quickly finished undressing as I admired his good looks, his handsome face, ice blue eyes and firm, manly chest as well as his extremely big cock which stood straight up against his belly. We smiled and embraced, our tongues entwining in each other's mouths. He rolled me over on to my back and firmly pressed his diamond-hard monster against my pussey lips. I was really enjoying myself and my cunney lips were now swollen with desire. With a deep groan he thrust his magnificently strong prick straight in without the slightest difficulty. His balls slapped against my bum as I wrapped my legs around his broad back and dug my nails in his shoulders. We rolled around on the bed until I found myself on top. His chest and shoulders were glistening with sweat as I rode him like a jockey rides a thoroughbred. My cunney was now on fire as dear Kenneth's huge cock trembled and twitched in a manner which I knew heralded his spending. I felt his body go rigid and then he arched his back upwards and shot once, twice and his spunk jetted out with such intensity that I could almost imagine it splashing off the rear wall of my cunt. Indeed, so abundant was his spurting that my thighs were well lathered until his tingling prick withdrew and rubbed itself amorously in a last salute against my sticky cunney lips. 'You haven't spent yet, have you, Margaret?' he queried as we lay together recovering from this grand fuck.
'I'm afraid not,' I replied. 'But it really doesn't matter a bit.
I enjoyed the fucking immensely and I don't have to spend every time.'
This truthfulness caused him to frown. 'Yes, it jolly well does matter,' said Kenneth. 'I am sure that achieving peaks of pleasure at the same time is what we are supposed to aim for, and I must be doing something wrong if we don't manage it.' I tried hard to assure him that he was wrong but he refused to be comforted. Please, Doctor Jonathan, will you add your voice to this debate as he reads your column religiously and does take heed of your wise words. Yours in hope, Margaret Finchley Bedford Manor Dunstable December, 1894 DOCTOR JONATHAN REPLIES:
My poor girl, I do feel so sorry for you! Of course there is no point whatsoever in working towards simultaneous climaxes. If they occur, jolly good luck, but there is absolutely nothing to be gained in labouring diligently and holding back or forcing forward merely to achieve such a situation. One can become obsessed with timing and become so involved that everything else is forgotten. In any case, climaxing at different times allows one partner to concentrate on exciting the other which is far more important. Yes, it can be fun to spend together but as far as I am concerned it's a very minor matter, and I hope Mr. Watkins will soon forget all about it.
Sir,
Your readers will be aware that in almost every country in Europe today there is either war or rumour of war between employers and workmen. Not a week, scarcely a day passes but we witness determined struggles between those opposing bodies, the workers demanding better conditions, and the employers resisting these demands. Strikes and lock-outs are so Common that it would be difficult to find a manufacturing town in Great Britain of any importance where one or more such struggles are not now being waged. This situation indicates a terrible discontent, and I do not hold to the view of those grandees who care to pretend that it is all due to the work of a few mysterious agitators who refuse to let well alone. Neither does my old friend Lady Henrietta Hughes, who I visited at her lovely country house in the Kentish village of Orpington recently. Although cruelly widowed at the early age of thirty-two after Sir Roger succumbed to a fever whilst in India, she retains a delightful bloom with her gold-dusted light brown hair, expressive large eyes, rich ruby lips and pearly white teeth. 'My dear Count,' she said as we sat taking some refreshment in her garden after a leisurely ride round her estate on a delightful summer morning. 'In my opinion the lot of the working class will be eased not in one isolated phenomenon but as a necessary corollary of other changes which have been gradually and steadily modifying the social history of Europe. There will be a political change, hopefully not of a revolutionary character, based upon the social, educational and economic changes which have already taken place. The political machinery of the country will be adjusted to fit the altered social conditions of its inhabitants.' 'You mean that we will turn to Socialism,' I asked, sipping my coffee.
'Whatever that may mean,' she agreed. 'Above all, there must be a change in social attitudes between the so-called aristocracy and the working classes. It will happen, mark my words, even in a class-dominated country like England. 'Do you know that my neighbour, Captain Botley, was over here yesterday and in the course of conversation said casually that he didn't know whether working class girls had hair on their cunnies! He was so ignorant of his fellow citizens that he imagined a proportion of them to be of another race!' 'Hasn't he ever fucked a serving wench?' I enquired.
'No, I doubt it. He has been involved since he was a young man with Mrs. Archibald Leach, who once told me that he could only get it up very infrequently, poor man. Doctor Tong of Harley Street, London has prescribed him some pills but little seems to work. He asked me to suck him off to see whether that would help. I did my best-for one should always come to the aid of a neighbour-but even tonguing around his helmet could not arouse him, poor man. 'Anyhow, I do not harbour such prejudices as Captain Botley,' she added, smoothing her hands down her thighs which were encased in her tight riding breeches.
'I am sure you do,' I teased. 'How many butlers have you had in your bed, Henrietta?' 'None, I prefer page-boys,' she smiled back wickedly. 'I see I shall have to demonstrate this to you or you will not believe me, you old rogue.' In fact I would have taken her word for it but it was obvious that she was keen to show off her latest conquest (for she is inordinately fond of fucking) so I did not demur. She stood up and beckoned me to follow her to the very back of her garden, which is well-shaped by umbrageous elms of a venerable age where, facing the south, a summer-house stood under the trees by the side of the small lake. 'Lawrence, are you in the summer-house watering those plants as I asked you to?' she called. 'Yes, ma'am,' came back a youthful voice from inside the well-constructed erection. 'Please bring out three large shawls, as we would like to sit on the grass,' she instructed. Out came Lawrence, a handsome youth of sixteen or so with the shawls and two pillows. 'I thought you might like these as well, ma'am,' he said. Lady Henrietta took the pillows from him and he spread the shawls out on the ground.
She then bent down and deliberately flaunting the rondeurs of her beautifully formed backside to the lad, bent down to arrange the pillows. She fiddled around for a few moments, plumping them up until she straightened up and said quite coolly: 'Lawrence, I detect that you rather enjoy looking at my bottom. Do you like what you see?'
Amused at the reddening up of his face, she eyed him carefully for a moment and did not fail to espy a bulge in the front of his trousers. 'Well, Lawrence, what have you got to say? Don't be shy now.' 'Well, ma'am, you are so very beautiful, and your arse looks so inviting that my cock has swollen up.' 'I'm glad to hear it. So you like my bum, do you? Here, you may feel it. Don't worry, I shan't tell and neither will Count Gewirtz for he knows I shall cut off his testicles if he speaks of this without my permission. Now Lawrence, dear, put your hand all around and under it. Doesn't it feel firm and round?' 'It's really lovely, ma'am. Can I keep my hand there?' 'Yes, of course, feel right under my bottom, Lawrence, and you will come to my cunney which would like to have that truncheon of yours plunging into it.' 'Oh, goodness, may I really take that liberty?' 'Yes, yes, you may fuck me so long as you promise never to tell tales.' 'Ah, no-one could ever wring the secret from my lips. I shall never forget such a favour,' he said with bashful excitement. 'Very well, Lawrence, we fuck here and now. I know you must be a perfect Cupid and I would like to see you naked just as much as you would like to see me unclothed. Let's see who can get undressed the quickest!' I suppose Lady Henrietta cheated for I was called upon to help divest her of her riding boots but Lawrence was first to expose his young, strong body in its admirable total nudity. The young man was blessed with a broad, hairless chest, slim flanks and shapely legs. And for one so young he boasted a very well-sized purple-headed prick, which rose majestically from between his legs to stand almost straight up against his flat belly.
Henrietta, too, was now naked and I admired her adorable rounded breasts, each topped by a rosy nipple, her narrow waist and long legs between which nestled a glorious thatch of silky dark hair. Her roving hands took possession of Lawrence's prick and she peeled back his foreskin to uncap the vermilion knob as she massaged his shaft gently with both hands. 'This is a grand-looking cock for one so young,' she murmured. 'Such fine, smooth skin, yet so hard and stiff to the touch. Quite large enough for a man of twice your age. Have you ever used this noble member for anything else except tossing yourself off?'
'No, ma'am. I wanted to try it with Lettie but she wouldn't let me.' 'What a spoilsport. I'll try to get Lettie along here afterwards as I'm sure that Count Gewirtz would appreciate taking part in a quarter,' she laughed impudently. I returned her smile and said simply: 'I always enjoy a good fuck but I am quite happy to be a mere spectator. I only wish I had my new camera here so that I could record your passion for posterity.' 'Perhaps it is as well that you cannot take any photographs, Count, as I don't want too many people to see me coming!' she replied with her quick wit. Lady Henrietta lay down on the shawls and placed one pillow beneath her head and the other under her buttocks. She opened her legs wide and, with her finger, opened up her delicious red-lipped slit for the lucky young rascal. He knelt down in front of her as she gently rolled her foot on his huge prick. She gently drew him over her and, taking hold of his mighty staff, she inserted the knob between her waiting cunney lips as his tight little arse fairly quivered with anticipation of the joys to come. How she enjoyed being fucked by that boy! Although this was his first fuck, Lawrence had a natural understanding of what to do and he did not, like so many boys of his age, rush in and out in a mad frenzy, but thrust home slowly, then withdrew and re-entered further. This had the desired effect upon Lady Henrietta who was now in a state of high excitement. 'Ah, that's delicious! Make me come! Ram your fat cock into me, Lawrence! Empty your balls, sir!
Aaah!' she screamed as her bottom rolled violently as she clawed the boy's back and he grasped her shoulders and began to ride her like a bucking bronco. Her legs slid down as she arched her back, working her cunney back and forth against the ramming of Lawrence's young, thick cock. I leaned forward to obtain a closer view of his glistening tool pounding in and out of Lady Henrietta's pussey, and she reached down to caress his balls as she rocked to and fro. This proved to be the coup de grace for Lawrence whose torso suddenly went rigid and his cock spurted spasm after spasm of sperm inside her cunt. His orgasm was so powerful that it seemed his body was being shaken to pieces as he gave a last drawn-out cry and collapsed on top of her, the perspiration pouring from him. 'Well done, young man!' I said, congratulating the boy on a fine performance. 'I could not have done much better myself.' 'Well done, indeed; I came twice before you spunked,' said Lady Henrietta cheerfully. I was paying such close attention to this erotic scene that I was quite startled when a hand tapped my shoulder. I looked up to see a pert young blonde-haired miss with a country fresh colour and sparkling blue eyes that were set off by a merry smile. 'I am so sorry to have disturbed you, Your Excellency,' said this delicious girl who was dressed in a low-cut black maid's uniform that showed to best advantage the swell of her firm young breasts. 'This is Lettie,' said Lady Henrietta languidly, clasping her hands around Lawrence's semi-erect penis, capping and uncapping the rubicund head as she playfully rubbed his shaft up to its previous rock-hard stiffness. 'Lettie, I am glad you have remembered to address our visitor in the correct fashion. Have you a message for us?' 'No ma'am, but I was taking the dog out for a walk when I noticed you out here having such a good time and I wondered if I could join in.' 'Well, you can't have Lawrence's cock yet. You spurned your chance when he offered it to you, and now you will have to wait until I have finished with it. That is only fair, isn't it?' 'Absolutely,' said the owner of the penis in question. 'Lady Henrietta has first call on my cock.' The pretty girl smiled at me and said: 'I don't mind at all as I've had my fill of young boys. I've never been fucked by a member of the aristocracy before, even if he is a little fat and a foreigner to boot.'
'Don't be so cheeky, Lettie,' said Lady Henrietta, trying hard to keep a straight face. 'She only speaks the truth, my love,' I said mildly. 'I do not take offence and will gladly fuck her if she really wants me to.' 'That she does, Your Excellency,' said Lettie with a gay laugh as she set to work unhooking her dress and loosening the strings and laces. She stepped out of her dress and took off her chemise and, to my surprise, I saw that she wore no drawers as she paraded her naked charms just a metre or so away from my face. I reached out to caress her succulent breasts which generated great excitement through my entire frame. Lettie's firm globes were well separated, each looking a little away from each other and tapering into two delicious points. The taut nipples acted as magnets to my mouth, and I sucked and nibbled on the ruby stalks that stood up in honour of my attentions. 'Do let me help you undress, Your Excellency,' she said as she unbuttoned my trousers and took out my naked erect prick which was now standing at its fullest height.
Tickling it lightly she wrapped her rich lips around my straining shaft, lustily slurping her tongue around my knob until I told her to desist or I would spend then and there. 'That would never do, because I want your cock in my cunney,' said Lettie, lying down beside Lady Henrietta who moved on top of Lawrence to allow Lettie and I some room on the shawls. I quickly divested myself of my remaining garments and knelt down in front of Lettie's open legs which gave me a fair view of her hairy cunt. 'What a superb cluster of blonde curls you have around your cunney, Lettie,' I said. 'I must pay homage to the shrine of Venus before I fuck you.' 'And I will do the same at the altar of Priapus,' called out Lady Henrietta, moving herself between Lawrence's legs and moving her head down to begin lapping and licking the knob of his prick. I saw her eagerly lash her tongue around his rampant young pole, slowly encompassing every inch until her lips touched his wiry pubic hairs. I now leaned forward to kiss the pink pouting lips of Lettie's crack which beckoned me so invitingly, set as they were so delightfully in her silky blonde muff.
I worked my mouth all around her lovely crack, tasting the musky female scent as I licked all around her bush, and rubbing my mouth against her cunney lips sent Lettie into a frenzy. 'Put your fingers in, please, Count,' she begged me. She put her hands on her inner thighs and pulled her legs further apart, exposing her outer lips, and her cunt was now so wet and swollen that I easily slipped three fingers into her snatch. I worked up a good rhythm, slipping them in and out of her juicy cunney, slowly at first and then increasing the tempo. At the same time she slipped a hand down to her clitty to frig herself, rubbing the little rosebud around her thumb and forefinger. I replaced her hand with my own as I simultaneously took over the frigging of her clitty whilst lapping away inside her deep pussey. She let out yelps of pleasure as she reached her climax and her luscious love juices filled my mouth. Her tangy juices were delicious and pushing my mouth hard up against her cunt, I moved my whole head back and forth until her pussey was sopping wet. My tongue moved quickly along her cunt as I licked and lapped her sweet juices that overflowed onto her thighs. 'Please fuck me now,' she asked and I obliged immediately, moving my body up across her so that we could kiss passionately as my knob forced its way between the portals of her cunney lips. As it slipped in I sucked on her firm little titties, which made her writhe with pleasure. I fucked her powerfully, plunging my prick in and out of her sopping pussey, my balls banging against her bottom as my shaft slipped all the way in her cunt so that our pubic hairs mingled together. Oh ye gods! How tight did her pussey clasp my pumping prick, and how luscious was the suction created by the juicy folds of her cunt as my trusty cock shoved in and out of its sheath. How magnificently she met my thrusts with the most energetic heaves as we revelled in voluptuous delights. All too soon I felt myself approaching the ultimate pleasure as the spunk boiled up in my balls, and though I tried to delay the ultimate moment as I was enjoying fucking this lovely young girl so much, my body was being wound up tighter and tighter until finally I exploded into one climatic release as I shot my hot, sticky sperm deep into the young lass who writhed beneath me, her hips rotating wildly, her cunney throbbing as my cock spurted jet after jet of love juice inside her, lubricating her love channel as we went off together, our mutual spends soaking her cunney and for some moments neither of us moved as we just lay there luxuriating in utter bliss. But next to us Lady Henrietta had stopped sucking Lawrence's lusty young cock and had climbed up on him with her knees on either side of his body. She pulled open her cunney lips and we saw her guide his straining shaft into her pussey, slowly tightening the walls of her cunt so that she held his twitching prick in place. Her expertise as a horse rider may have helped for she rode his vertical cock with great assurance, twisting her hips and bumping and grinding away, leaning forward so that the boy could take her cherry-coloured nipples in his mouth which drove her completely wild. 'I'm going to come,' panted poor Lawrence as Lady Henrietta rocked backwards and forwards on his cock, thrashing about as she screamed: 'So am I! Just spunk into me whenever you like!' They ran a delightful course and as they died away in a mutual spend, Lettie said to me: 'I quite enjoy being on top, but I don't think I can ride a St George as well as Lady Henrietta. Mind, it is nice to sit down and work your cunney muscles round a strong, hard cock as then, whilst you are grinding your arse about, you give your clitty a good rub as well.' This lewd talk sent my prick swelling up again, but this time it was Lady Henrietta who bent over to give me a thorough wash with her tongue. She licked my prick from the tip all the way down to the balls and back again. I gently raised her head and told her to lie back as I desired to fuck her. She did as she was told and I lifted myself on my knees between her legs, which I hooked over my shoulders so that her bottom was lifted into the air, and I cupped her bum cheeks in my hand. A low gurgle of anticipation escaped from her lips as I viewed with delight the narrow triangle of bushy brown hair that fringed her cunt. I was about to repeat my tonguing of Lettie but Lady Henrietta panted: 'Oh, Johann, stick your lovely cock inside me. I want your prick rather than your tongue!' What could I do but obey. In fact Lettie took hold of my throbbing tool and guided it herself between her mistress's glistening red cunney lips. I slipped my shaft slowly inside her hole and began to pump in and out of her inviting crack. She contracted her pussey so that it took hold of my cock like a delicate soft hand frigging the shaft, and she wriggled away as I pumped my raging tool in and out of her sodden cunney, her vaginal muscles caressing my prick as we went faster and faster as she bucked and twisted, urging me to thrust deeper as she raised her legs to wrap them behind my shoulders. How tightly her cunney clasped and sucked on my cock, and we gloried in the lubricity of it all as her juices dripped against my hairy balls as they banged against her arse. Cupped now in my broad palms, her tight bum cheeks rotated almost savagely as my lusty shaft rammed home, and her kisses rained upon my neck as the friction in her cunt reached new heights.
She reached climax after climax as my throbbing tool slid in and out of her dripping cunney. I plunged down hard, crushing her luscious breasts beneath me as her cunt squeezed my prick even tighter. The continuous voluptuous pressure was too great for me to bear. I could feel the boiling spunk rising and then, with a whoosh, it surged out of me, spurting from my knob deep inside her in a spend that seemed to last and last as I pumped my creamy white froth into her juicy dark warmth. She squeezed my balls gently as I withdrew and the last creamy drops of sperm trickled down her thighs. We lay back exhausted but, at our side, Lettie was holding young Lawrence's shaft at the base whilst she sucked upon his rigid pole. It was not long before his cock began to twitch as Lettie's head bobbed up and down and she sucked as much of his spunk as she could, gobbling the ruby knob of his youthful cock as her hands jerked up and down the shaft, milking his prick with a flourish. 'Oh, I do love sucking cocks,' she said smacking her lips. 'Young Lawrence here has a grand salty tang to his spunk. Mmm, nothing tastes as clean and fresh as frothy sperm straight from the cock.' 'I do so agree,' said Lady Henrietta. 'I only wish that men could hold back a little longer, but sucking off drives them wild. Boys are the worst for coming too quickly.'*I did my best, ma'am,' said Lawrence anxiously.
The girls reassured him that they were talking in general and not in the particular, and we entwined ourselves again in a further bout of fucking and sucking. Lady Henrietta licked out Lettie whilst she sucked me off, at the same time tossing off young Lawrence. Then I fucked Lettie up the bum whilst she sucked off Lawrence, who nibbled Lady Henrietta's erect little clitty as she sat on his face. So all in all, a great day's entertainment. As Mr. Kipling has commented: 'Lucy O'Grady and the Colonel's lady are sisters under the skin.' For my part, Lettie's tremendous ability in the art of fucking reinforces my belief in the democratic doctrine. Who cares about class so long as the lady in question is as the girl in the popular poem:
She's pert and slim And takes a swim Down by the harbour wall. She's only a cobbler's daughter But she gives the boys her awl! That's a different way of looking at it as the fly said when he landed on a mirror. I remain, Sir, Your Obedient Servant Count Johann Gewirtz c/o Lady Valerie Fitzcockie 46 Allendale House Belgrave Square London, S.W. June, 1893
Sir, I have often fantasised about the joys of multiple fucking, and I am pleased to report that my fantasy turned into reality last weekend. I am twenty-three years old and am considered attractive by the many young men who have attempted to pull down my drawers. Most have failed in their attempt, but occasionally I have enjoyed the attentions of several noted cocksmen, including Sir Robert Bacon and Captain John Gibson of Edinburgh, whilst currently I have been fucking the Honourable Anthony Bodley-Cape, a young man of no mean talent in l'arte de faire l'amour. For some time now I had suspected that Anthony had the similar desire for a bed party. He would tease me by saying that he suspected my ambition was to fuck before an invited audience. I denied the accusation but, frankly, the idea sent the adrenalin coursing through my veins. We attended the party given by Lord Tagholm at Ajao's restaurant in honour of Madame Melba the famous opera singer, and afterwards we took a hansom cab back to Anthony's apartment in Welbeck Street. He sent me into the bedroom whilst he locked up and paid a visit to the bathroom.
He came to bed some ten minutes later with a mischievous grin on his face. He joined me on the bed after carefully folding away his clothes and, as usual, I reached down to encircle his fast-swelling prick in my hand. When his staff was at its proud, fullest height, I leaned over to take the fiery red crown between my lips. I had just opened my mouth when I heard a noise outside. 'What's that, Tony?' I asked With a start. 'Are we being burgled?' 'It's nothing, darling, it's only old Rex the dog scratching around,' he said soothingly.
I took his word for it and jammed down his foreskin before enveloping his cockhead between my lips. I sucked hard, taking half his shaft into my mouth whilst I toyed with his rather small hairy balls. False modesty is as unbecoming as overweening pride, so I shall not neglect to mention that I am considered to be one of the best cocksuckers in London. Tony cooed with delight as I sucked his shaft with a firm motion, sliding my lips up and down his rigid staff, slurping noisily as his knob slid along the roof of my mouth to the back of my throat. The juices were really flowing when again I thought I heard a noise, and I opened my eyes to see that we were not alone! Two of Tony's friends, Sir Andrew Stuck and Tommy Dashler, were standing by the door watching me suck Tony's cock. Now I realised that the noise I heard was Tony leaving the door on the latch-poor old Rex was guiltless of making any noise as he was doubtless fast asleep in his basket. At first I was unsure whether or not to proceed-the sight of two men watching me suck my lover's prick at first confused me, but then I thought to myself, what the deuce does it matter, so I climbed on top of Tony's flagpole and bounced merrily away until I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. To my astonishment I saw that Sir Andrew had stepped out of his clothes and was standing beside me stark naked with the biggest thickest prick I have ever seen in my life! I made no protest when the lusty baronet guided my hand downwards to his enormous tool. It was incredibly thick and my hand could not reach round it. I leaned forward and licked at this luscious dome as Tony jerked his body upwards to restart our love-making rhythm. This erotic sight was too powerful for young Tommy Dashler to resist, and very soon he was stroking my breasts and lapping at my hard little nipples. I reached across with my left arm and took his prick in my hand. What an experience! I had a cock in my cunney, one in my hand and Sir Andrew's monster shaft in my mouth! To cap it all, the three men and myself came almost together and I screamed and shuddered as wave after wave of orgasm swept over me as my juices flowed like a torrent to mix with the frothy jism Tony was unleashing inside my pussey. Tommy's rampant prick spurted out a generous amount of juice, but Sir Andrew's libation was so copious that I could not swallow all his salty spend. Tony and Tommy were now hors de combat, but Sir Andrew's shaft was still rock hard and I readily assented to his invitation to continue this escapade. Perhaps I looked frightened as I stared at his huge weapon for he kindly whispered, 'Don't worry, Julia, I would never hurt you. If I push in too deeply just tell me and I will withdraw immediately.' He slowly slid his ruby knob between the lips of my sopping cunney and I could hardly believe that I could accommodate such a noble tool. He filled my body with his hardness and slowly built up his speed as he thrust and probed inside me. I was astonished that something so big could move so gently inside me. His balls banged against my bum as he” thrust more urgently, and I felt an enormous wave of orgasmic pleasure starting to course throughout my body. 'I'm coming, I'm coming!' he cried out, and so I squeezed his balls with my thighs and the feeling of his spunk jetting through his shaft took me over the brink into Elysium. He exploded into me with a tidal wave of hot, white juice. Poor Tommy was unlucky as I could not face another bout after Sir Andrew's mighty machine had penetrated my love channel. I administered manual relief to the sweet boy, however, so that he did not feel too frustrated about the affair.
Although I do hold a grudge against Tony for inviting his friends to watch us fuck, regrettably I had to inform him that our liaison was now at an end. I don't believe any girl will be satisfied with her lover after taking Sir Andrew Stuck between her legs. I don't know how long I will be able to keep him in my bed, but meanwhile I shall make the most of my time with him.
Carpe diem, guam minimum credula postero has always been a maxim I have scrupulously followed.
Your Obedient Servant, Julia Hurchille Callil Mansions Osbaldeston Road London, N. February, 1889 Seize the present day, trusting the morrow as little as you can.