The Oyster Volume V

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

Being a shareholder in the Mersey Railway Company, last week I accepted an invitation from the joint contractors of the Mersey Tunnel, Major Isaac of London and Waddells of Edinburgh, to descend the shafts of the tunnel and inspect the works beneath the river now that they have been practically completed. Readers may care to note that the excavations have amounted to more than twenty thousand cubic yards, all got out by hand.

The project was first mooted twenty-five years ago but the excavations have been dogged by many difficulties. However, since Professor William Bucknall's famous boring machine got to work three years ago, progress has been swift and very shortly the tunnel will be opened to the public.

Afterwards, along with a group of other major shareholders, I was invited to dine with the Lord Mayor of Liverpool at the Adelphi Hotel and stay the night at that august establishment as a guest of the Company. Naturally, after descending into the bowels of the earth, so to speak, I decided to run myself a bath before dinner. I began to undress but whilst pulling out my bathrobe from my valise I noticed that a handsomely bound book had been placed at the bottom of the bag. This was most curious as I had not instructed my valet, Stanley, to pack any reading material for me. I picked up the book and opened it to find that a card had been clipped onto the first pages.

Who could have sent this to me? I unclipped the plain white card which read: 'Leon, in case you get bored in Liverpool, I thought you may care to see the latest selection of French photographs just published by Monsieur Pierre Breslau of Paris. All best wishes- Rodney.' Now all was clear! You see, just a few days beforehand I had invited Sir Rodney Burbeck and his current amorata to spend a few days in London as my house guests, and the wealthy baronet must have surreptitiously smuggled this much-sought-after new book over from France. How kind of Rodney to give me a copy, I mused, as Monsieur Breslau's books are highly prized by the cognoscenti.

I sat down on the bed and browsed through the pages which were full of coloured photographs of the most lascivious evolutions of l'arte de faire l'amour. There were naked youths and girls with their cocks, pussies and bottoms displayed as they frigged, sucked and fucked in all kinds of varied positions. Perhaps my favourite was one of a most beautiful dark-skinned girl seated on the lap of her lover. Between her voluptuous thighs her cunt is seen delightedly engorged with his thick standing prick. Her arms are round his neck and her face is turned up, beaming with the satisfaction she is experiencing in her well-filled cunney.

Another showed a handsome couple dancing together, the boy pressing the soft bum cheeks of his partner who is holding his stiff prick in a tender, loving grasp. In the next plate the buxom beauty is shown lying nude on a bed, her legs apart with her splendid cunney protruding its full rounded lips from the midst of a covering of crisp curly hair, Whilst the crimson crack between gives promise of a warm reception to his stiff standing prick which she has in her hand.

'I wouldn't mind taking his place for an hour or two,' I murmured to myself. And then I almost jumped out in shock! For a sweet feminine voice chimed out: 'And I wouldn't mind changing places with the girl either.'

I swivelled round to see who had entered my room unannounced and unbidden. No, it was not one of the sneak thieves who make a specialty of breaking into hotel bedrooms, but simply a very pretty young chambermaid, a slim young girl of no more than eighteen years of age, I judged, who sported a mane of long black hair, a pair of large blue eyes and a pretty retrousse nose.

She brushed back her hair sensuously as she said: 'Oh, I am so sorry to have startled you, Sir. I came in to turn down the bed but you failed to hear me.

'That must be a very absorbing book, Sir. May I have a look at it?' I nodded and the little minx sat down on the bed next to me and reached over to take the book. As she did so, her hand brushed against the bulge in my undershorts. 'She is a lucky girl,' said the maid softly, 'Just look at her aroused nipples, her luscious lips, she is just ready and waiting to be fucked.'

'I like the look of her too,' I said hoarsely and, before I could say anything more, this sweet girl pulled out my cock from my drawers and started pulling the swollen shaft up and down. Nothing loath, I unbuttoned her blouse and found that she was wearing nothing underneath! I began massaging her beautifully rounded breasts and then I pulled her skirt up with my other hand and soon we were locked in a passionate embrace.

'I've time for a quick one if you have,' she said softly, so lifting her in my arms I placed her on top of the bed. Soon we were fully nude and I started by sucking her breasts and massaging her clitty and pussey lips with my long fingers. I raised her legs and rested them on my shoulders as she directed my cock to her juicy pussey. I fucked her in my most favoured fashion, alternating slow and fast rhythms, responding to her thrusts. We were voyagers on a journey to the seventh heaven of fucking as I kissed her luscious lips and sucked her long, hard nipples. She exploded with multiple orgasms and my own pleasure was heightened by her moans and sighs. I pounded home the strokes faster and faster as we rocked together, climbing to almost unimaginable heights as my raging prick slid now uncontrollably in and out of her sopping love channel.

She moved excitedly under me as my prick jerked inside her and I could see by her wriggles of delight how much she was enjoying this glorious surprise fuck and she panted: 'Oh Sir, how nice, how lovely, oh, how I am spending! I can feel my juices gushing. A-h-r-e, now, now, spunk into me!' I prolonged the pleasure for as long as possible, slowing down my thrusts to feel the delicious throbbings of cock and cunney in their perfect conjunction, but nature was not to be denied and I soon shot a copious stream of creamy white sperm inside her cunney as we swam in a mutual emission, both of us being so overcome by our feelings that we almost swooned in our ecstasy.

We would both have preferred to stay in bed for a repeat performance, but such a desire could not be granted as Sally (for we exchanged names after the fuck) had work to do and I could not excuse myself from attending the Lord Mayor's Dinner as I had accepted the invitation to propose the loyal toast.

I must note here what splendid fare we were offered at dinner. After a delicious thick vegetable soup I relished some excellent poached turbot followed by a selection of roasts: beef, mutton and fowl. But the highlight was a dessert of a succulent array of peaches, plums, apricots, nectarines, raspberries, strawberries, pears and grapes all grouped in generous pyramids among the flowers that adorned the buffet table.

So I was quite tired by the time I climbed into bed later that evening. I fell asleep almost immediately and I dreamed about fucking Sally again, sliding my cock into her wet pussey as I fondled her full breasts, and kissed her neck and shoulders from behind. Then I lay back and let the dear girl suck my cock to full erection before she mounted me.

Amazingly, awakening from my slumber, I realised that this was no dream! I was lying on my back and I could see and feel a girl bouncing up and down on my prick! I tried to speak and reached for the lamp but my lips were sealed with soft hands and a sweet little voice murmured: 'It's all right, it's only Sally. Everything is just fine.' Then she kissed me as she rode my cock and I fondled her stalky nipples, rubbing them to stiffness against the palms of my hands. Faster and faster she rode and as she cried out with joy, she spent and I felt her warm love juices trickle down my shaft.

She started to gyrate her hips round and round and I grabbed her bum cheeks as I jerked upwards to meet her downward thrusts. Her lithe young body slipped up and down on my throbbing length, taking every last millimetre of my shaft deep into her pussey and the continuous nipping and contractions of her cunt soon brought me to a climax. I tried at first to hold back but I could feel the hot spunk boiling up in my balls and I crashed powerful jets of love juice up into her womb as she moved her hips faster and faster. The feel of her beautiful body rocking to and fro kept my cock hard even though I jetted spurt after spurt of spunk, filling her cunney with my cream. Gad! What an Elysian spend!

Yet still this highly sexed girl remained unsatisfied! She lay panting next to me, her long dark tresses shimmering in the moonlight that poured in through the window. She stretched and arched her back, caressing her pert young breasts and moving her legs suggestively as I placed my hand on her crisp, damp bush. I licked my lips and moved over to kiss her white belly and then ran my tongue lower, through the tickly pubic moss. My hands circled around her glorious bum cheeks as I buried my head between her thighs and drew her against me. My tongue found her glistening crack and she gasped and shivered as I found her clitty immediately and began to roll my tongue around the erectile piece of flesh.

'Oh! Oh! Leon, you suck clitty marvellously. That's gorgeous, gorgeous!' she cried out: 'Now let's try something else!' And with those words she wriggled herself onto her belly and twitched her rounded bum cheeks provocatively at me. Despite our previous exertions, my cock swelled up again at the sight of this lovely naked girl and I gave my shaft a little rub to bring it to its fullest stiffness.

Yet I hesitated for a moment as she pushed her bum upwards and opened her legs to give me a good view of her bum-hole. I looked at it for a moment and then placed my knob, which was still wet from our spendings, to the entrance of the puckered little rosette. 'Yes, yes, Leon,' she panted. 'Go on, go on, I want a nice thick length of cock up my bum. Go carefully though and we'll have a lovely bottom fuck.'

I angled her legs a little further apart to afford a better view of her little wrinkled nether orifice and gently eased my knob between her cheeks. At first I encountered a difficulty but then her sphincter muscle relaxed and I slid my cock in and out of the tight sheath, plunging in and out of the now widened rim as she reached back and spread her cheeks even further, jerking her bum in time to my rhythm as I wrapped one arm around her titties, frigging each of them in turn, and snaking my other arm round her waist I was able to finger-fuck her pussey to afford her a double pleasure.

Her bottom responded gaily to every shove as I drove home, my balls bouncing against her smooth rounded cheeks. I worked my proud prick in as far as it would go and I enjoyed a delicious tingling as I corked her to the very limit. I moved in and out as she worked her bum to bring me off in a flood of gushing spunk that both warmed and lubricated her delicious backside. As I spurted into her I continued to work my prick back and forth so that it remained stiffly hard until, with an audible plop, I withdrew from her well-lathered sheath.

'That was very nice indeed, Sally,' I said with genuine solicitude. 'I always worry a little about suggesting a bottom fuck myself as unless performed with care it can be painful for the lady.'

'Thank you for being so thoughtful, my dear. I wouldn't like to be cornholed every day but it makes a pleasant change now and then,' she smiled. 'Do you know something, I am rather thirsty. Now I hope you will excuse the impertinence but I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of iced champagne to be sent to your room. I brought it up myself and I hope you don't mind too much.'

'Of course not, Sally! So long as it's a good vintage,' I laughed.

Now the champagne (a Moet and Chandon '82) invigorated me to a further bout which began with a lovely kiss and cuddle. We lay in a comfortable soixante neuf with Sally's thighs clasped round my head and her spunk-coated pussey lips pressed firmly against my mouth. As I licked up the morsels of our previous repast, she sucked my cock up to yet another fine erection and licked around that ultrasensitive area between my arsehole and my balls. Then she moved her wicked little tongue up my cockshaft to my helmet, flicking at it with the very tip so expertly that I could feel my balls tightening and my prick swelling up to a rocklike hardness.

I slowly entered her until my prick was in to the hilt and I stayed still a moment, savouring to the full the delicious little contractions of her cunt as it welcomed my cock into its portals. I don't think I have ever experienced a more soothing, moist, warm home for my throbbing prick.

We started moving together and Sally treated me to a long, slow fuck as I glided my shaft in and out of her pulsating pussey. Then we raised the tempo and our lips meshed together as our bottoms began to work in unison. How tightly her cunt enclasped and sucked upon my prick! We gloried in each giant thrust as her juices dripped onto my balls as they banged against her bum. She implored me to drive deeper by twirling her tongue in my mouth and, cupped now in my broad palms, her bum cheeks rotated eagerly as my trusty tool rammed in and out and she cried out with joy at the stinging excitement of my thick prick driving furiously into her soft depths. I felt the white froth spurt upwards and Sally gave a little yelp of pleasure as the hot creamy spunk flooded and I felt her shudder as she drained me of every last drop of love juice.

She let my now limp tool slide out of her before covering me with kisses and we fell exhausted into a deep sleep. Luckily Sally was not on duty until two o'clock the next day for we did not wake up until half past eight in the morning. In order to keep our assignment secret from the hotel management, we shared the large breakfast that I ordered to be sent up to my room and Sally hid in the bathroom when it was brought in.

Although she asked for nothing (except the use of my cock!), I insisted on leaving her a present of ten guineas in gratitude for making my stay in Liverpool so pleasant, which after first demurring to take, she accepted, thanking me heartily for my generosity.

Now, Sir, my old friend Sir Robert Dixon has chided me for leaving 'such a trifling sum' whilst Mr. Peter Stockman of Sevenoaks insists I was wrong to even offer any money at all! I would be most interested to read your comments upon this matter.

I am, Sir, Your Obedient Servant

Colonel Leon

Standlake Goldstone

House Cramley

Near Stafford

March, 1885

The Editor replies: The general consensus in our office is that your behaviour was beyond reproach. It is easy for Mr. Stockman to criticise for it is well known that certain ladies pay him large amounts of cash for their weekly fuckings. But then, is there a man in Britain who can equal the length and girth of Mr. Stockman's extraordinary organ? He occasionally is guilty of forgetting his good fortune.

Sir,

Like the poet I too best enjoy the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' and I trust your readers will find to their liking this completely true tale of autumnal lechery in which I must confess my involvement. Well now, perhaps 'confess' is the wrong word to use for I am not in the least ashamed at what took place. In the words of Mr. Sheridan, 'certainly nothing is unnatural that is not physically impossible' and I would be happy to submit to your judgement of my admittedly lewd behaviour.

Last Wednesday I decided to take a post-prandial constitutional stroll through Hyde Park. It was a fine if slightly chilly afternoon but I enjoyed my unhurried walk, listening to the first thrushes singing and watching a group of starlings swarming around a clump of crab apple trees, pecking wastefully at the ripe fruit. Leaves were still to be found lingering in some trees-deep, shiny yellow on the birches, pale green and golden on the elms.

I was so engrossed by the beauties of nature that I failed to notice that a girl who was walking in front of me had stopped to deposit an unwanted newspaper in a litter bin and a slight collision ensued.

'Oh, I do beg your pardon,' I gasped. 'How very foolish of me, I was simply not looking where I was going.'

'That's alright, Anna, no damage done,' said the girl cheerfully. 'It's just as well though that you were not at the wheel of one of these new horseless carriages or a really nasty accident could have ensued.'

How did she know my name? I looked at her closely and although I recognised the voice, I could not quite place the face of this extremely attractive blonde-haired blue-eyed creature who giggled and said: 'I do believe that you have forgotten who I am. Mind, it must be four or five months ago since we dined together at my cousin Jenny Everleigh's house in South Audley Street, Mayfair, a few days before I sailed to New York.'

Suddenly my memory returned. 'Of course I remember you! Your name is Molly Farquhar, Jenny's cousin from Cockfosters in Hertfordshire. What a nice surprise to meet you again. Yes, I recall your telling me that you spend a great deal of time in America. When did you come back home, Molly?'

'I returned last week as my Mama insists that it is time for me to “settle down” and look for a suitable husband. As she says, ad nauseum, you are now twenty-two Molly and we don't want you left on the shelf! Aren't parents difficult!'

'Well, mine are away in France until November. But tell me, Molly, have you any beaux in England? I have just ended a friendship with Benjamin, Sir Ronnie Dunn's son, as although we enjoyed each other's company very much, neither of us wishes to make a commitment in respect of a permanent relationship. So I suppose I am on the lookout myself for male friendship.

'Ah, you poor love. Have you been saddened by the ending of the affair? I hear from my cousin Jenny that Sir Ronnie wields a good stiff prick but I don't know whether his son is as good a cocksman as his father.'

I was somewhat shocked at her forthright speech but I was determined not to appear unsophisticated and replied: 'Oh, Ben could fuck very passably. He was a most gentle and considerate lover and his prick was always up to the mark.'

'That's good to know for a hard man is good to find. One so often comes across those who after just one spend can no longer raise any further interest, which can be most unsatisfactory, particularly if one has not yet spent oneself,' commented Molly as we continued our stroll together. 'Tell me, though, Anna, have you ever experienced the joys of female-only fucking? I can thoroughly recommend it as it makes a very pleasant change which I know from my own personal experience.'

'Not since some horseplay in the sixth form dormitory of Lady Bracknell's Academy for Young Ladies,' I said doubtfully. 'I think it would take a lot to persuade me that it could rival the benefits of a hot, stiff cock in my cunney, a joy that surely cannot be bettered.'

Molly laughed and said 'I used to think like that but since I joined Lady Slapbum's Ting Tong Club in Redcliffe Gardens, I have changed my mind about tribadism. Look, if you have no appointments this afternoon, let's hail a hansom and I'll show you round the place for as a country member I am entitled to sign in up to three guests per month. In any case, they serve a delicious tea at the Ting Tong which you will enjoy whatever you think of the goings-on at the club. I always try and smuggle out a slice of Mrs. Bickler's sponge for my current beau and pretend that I made it.'

My diary was free of engagements so I accepted her kind invitation. We were fortunate enough to find a cab almost immediately and within ten minutes we were at the entrance of the club. Molly insisted on paying the driver and we climbed the stairs to the front door. An attractive young girl dressed in a rather scanty maid's uniform opened the door and took our coats as I signed my name in the visitors' book.

'Are there no footmen?' I asked Molly quietly. 'An establishment such as this should really boast a butler or some other male flunkey.'

'Are you joking?' whispered Molly. 'Why, they wouldn't even let a eunuch or a nancy-boy darken its doors. They say that even Lady Slapbum's Pekinese is a bitch! Anyhow, let me show you round the club.'

It certainly was a luxuriously appointed house with rich fittings in every room; All amenities one would expect to find were provided — a lounge, card-room, dining room etc., although smoking was not permitted except in the billiards room as a majority of the members disliked the smell of tobacco.

'There are a number of bedrooms upstairs for the use of members,' said Molly brightly. 'Shall we take a look?'

I somehow guessed that we would be staying a while upstairs, but I allowed myself to be shepherded aloft and Molly pushed open the door of the room on the right at the top of the stairs. 'Take a look at this bedroom, Anna,' said Molly, inviting me inside. 'See, through there is the bathroom and Lady Slapbum has installed these new showers which I find most invigorating.'

'Really,' I said with interest. 'Do you prefer using them as opposed to taking a bath?'

'Well, I always enjoy a nice soak in a warm tub but these new showers do tone one up as well as cleansing the grime of the city from the skin. One can adjust the hot and cold taps so that the water comes through at just the right temperature. Look, I will call down and see if we can try it out here and now.'

Her call on the internal telephone system was quickly answered and she gaily informed me that the room was ours for the next two hours. We undressed in an unhurried manner and I followed Molly into the bathroom where she switched on this new-fangled equipment, and after putting on special caps for our hair, we splashed around together underneath the warm water that cascaded down on top of us. Afterwards we dried ourselves on the large soft towels provided and Molly curled herself up sensuously on the bed.

I must admit that I had already noticed her superb figure and I envied her golden blonde locks of hair as I have always been firmly of the opinion that gentlemen prefer blondes.

Nevertheless, although her firm uptilted breasts were well proportioned, I judged that mine were larger and my legs were perhaps slightly longer than hers. At the base of her flat tummy there was conclusive evidence that Molly was indeed a genuine blonde for her silky pussey hair was also that fine shade of gold which I so envied, although my own black bush has been the object of admiration from not only young Benjamin Dunn but by such well-known cocksmen as Gordon McChesney, David Haines and Colonel Philip Pelham of the Lancashire Fusiliers.

Molly was leafing through a copy of Cremorne Gardens and I leaned over to see if there was anything worth reading in this naughty publication. 'Come and lie down with me and read out one of these stories. I do love listening to lewd tales,' said Molly invitingly, patting the snowy white sheet with her hand.

I obediently lay down beside her, snuggling my head inside the welcoming crook of her arm, and began to read from a story by Madame Estelle de Quentonne, the famous French courtesan who is reputed often to entertain the Prince of Wales when he makes one of his frequent visits to Paris. However, in the tale from which I read, she was writing of an enjoyable little joust with Claude, the sixteen-year-old nephew of Eduard Raspis, the industrial magnate. I began: 'My lips were drawn as if by an invisible magnet to the mushroom dome of Claude's lovely young cock. I kissed the smooth, hot head and thoroughly wet the top as I opened my mouth and took in the glistening knob, lashing my tongue around the succulent sweetmeat. Ah, it tasted so masculine, with a fresh salty tang that I closed my lips around it as tightly as possible and worked on the tip with my tongue, easing my lips forward to take more of the shaft. In his eagerness he pushed my head down to take in more of his throbbing tool but I almost choked in doing so.

'He retracted slightly so that it lay motionless though pulsating inside my mouth. I closed my lips around this monster and moved my tongue across its width. I sucked greedily on his youthful cock and twisted his head down so that his face was pushed into my own sopping groin and my body shook with delight as the clever lad realised what he had to do and began to circle his tongue around my dripping slit.'

It may have been inappropriate to read such a tale inside the Ting Tong Club but it certainly aroused myself and Molly who was by now idly running her cool hands up and down my thighs and, combined with the stimulating story I was reading, we were both soon squirming around on the bed. She took the magazine from me and threw it on the carpet and leaning over me, she kissed me fully on the lips before transferring her tongue to my ear which set shivers all through my body, especially when she started to press my titties between her fingers which intensified the tingling sensations tremendously.

By now my whole body was shaking with lust and when Molly began stroking my pussey I grasped her hand and pushed it firmly between my legs which I squeezed together, crushing her hand between them. She understood my urgent need for she let her head slide down from my ear to my tummy and into my black thatch of pussey hair. She parted my lips with her fingers and slipped her tongue into my wet cunney, licking all round the edge with the tip before thrusting it all the way in. She was teasing my pussey to unbelievable heights, using tongue and fingers to spread my wetness all round my cunt. I just closed my eyes and let myself dissolve into a glorious sea of lubricity as her teeth now nibbled along my cunney lips whilst her pink little tongue teased my clitty with long, rasping licks. Up and down, in and out her long tongue lapped up my slippery juices as, by now totally abandoned, I threw my legs high up upon her shoulders.

Now I could feel myself begin to experience the first sensations of a spend build up inside me. 'Oh, Anna, your juices taste so delicious. I love sucking your juicy cunney,' gasped Molly, diving back again to give me the final coup de grace. She lashed her tongue against my clitty, rubbing it until it stuck out between my lips. Then she wrenched her mouth from my sopping muff and replaced it with her fingers, finding my swollen clitty which she tugged only for a few seconds before I was away! My body thrashed wildly about in a frenzied ecstasy as her finger slid into my bum-hole. I exploded into uncontrollable spasms of excitement and my juices flowed freely as I reached a gigantic peak of orgasmic lust.

Molly and I writhed about in each others arms, our breasts crushed together, our tawny titties rubbing against each other as we kissed feverishly until a second eruption made me arch back again, almost crying with joy as the raging storm of my spend coursed through me.

Now it was my turn to make Molly spend and she laid back expectantly as I kissed her stalky red nipples with their saucer like brown aureoles, drawing circles with my tongue, flicking the nipples up to a ripe hardness. Then I kissed her belly all the way down to that soft, golden nest…

Dipping my face close so that I could nuzzle into that silky blonde pussey, I licked my fingers and separated her folds, inhaling the tangy feminine odour of her dripping slit. Spreading her lips with my tongue, I explored her sopping pussey, gauging her responses, then sliding my arms around her thighs I adjusted my position and relaxed into flowing movements with my head, my tongue nudging her clitty, pushing against the hood. Her pelvis set the tempo, coming to meet me faster and faster as I increased the speed, pressing down with my teeth as she began to toss from side to side.

'Oh, Anna, that's marvellous. Oh yes, oh yes! Now darling, finger me,' she panted. 'Finish me off with your fingers.' She put her hands on her inner thighs and pulled her legs apart, revealing her fleshy pink outer lips. She was so swollen and wet that she hardly noticed three of my fingers slide into her sopping cunney. But she certainly did when I started to work up a pacey rhythm, working my fingers in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster as she got wetter and wetter. She now frigged her clitty at the same time, working the little rosebud around with her thumb and forefinger. I straddled her and whilst I jerked one hand in and out of her pussey I roughly tweaked her titties with the other, making her moan with pleasure as she spent profusely, shrieking so loudly with delight that I was afraid we might be disturbed.

Well, dear readers, we were indeed disturbed-but not by any outraged members of the Ting Tong Club. What we had failed to hear in our haste to enjoy each other's bodies was the sound of a ladder being placed against the window and the thwack of the window cleaner's shoes as he climbed up the rungs to undertake his duties. It was Molly who first discovered that we had been performing in front of an audience. She suddenly shot out of bed and grabbed a towel to cover herself as she padded towards the window.

'Anna, look outside, we have an unannounced guest!' said Molly fiercely, opening the window to drag in a young man of about twenty-three who was still clutching his washleather. 'Shall I call Lady Slapbum and tell her that we have a Peeping Tom or-'

'Oh please don't do that,' said the young man who spoke in a far more educated voice than one would have expected from a London workman. 'I'm only doing the job because the regular window cleaner is ill and my aunt, Mrs. Norma Swaige, who lives next door told me to offer my services to Lady Slapbum with whom she plays bridge every Wednesday afternoon. I had no idea this room was occupied but I must admit that when I saw what was going on, I was transfixed and just could not bring myself to move away.'

'Yes, I thought you were a member of the leisured classes as your face is quite familiar,' I mused, quite forgetting that I was sitting up in bed stark naked in front of this handsome young man who was now engaged in the most fulsome of apologies for looking in on our love-making.

'My name is Richard Gewirtz,' said the handsome youth with a slight bow. 'My father is Count Gewirtz of Galicia and though he never married my mother he immediately settled ten thousand a year and a London house upon her when I was born and he has kindly allowed me to bear his name.'

'I know your father,' said Molly promptly. 'He is a very kind gentleman as you rightly say. Why, after fucking my cousin Jenny Everleigh he insisted upon sending her first class tickets for herself and a friend to travel to New York upon the Dutch liner S. S. Rotterdam.'

'Well, it wasn't all that kind,' admitted Richard with a short laugh. 'After all, he does own sixty per cent of the Trans Europe Shipping Line and he gets more free tickets than he knows what to do with.'

'Still, he need not have offered them to Jenny,' smiled Molly who was now mollified by Richard's forthright explanation and apology.

'Meanwhile, I have an excellent idea. You can make up for your intrusion by lending us your cock for the next thirty minutes. I have a great fancy for a fuck whilst I am sure that Anna would also be interested in seeing what you have to offer and whether you can use your tool half as well as your dear Papa,' she added.

He blushed shyly and said: 'Nothing would please me more but I feel so nervous that I don't know whether I will be able to-'

'Oh don't worry about all that, we'll get you in the mood, have no fear. Now you go and undress and take a quick shower. When you come back we will be ready for you,' commanded Molly.

Richard stripped off and I stole a quick look at his hairy, muscular torso, his well-made legs and tight little bottom as he made his way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile Molly clambered back onto the bed, but this time she leaned over and took out a wooden box standing upon the bedside table before wrapping an arm around me. “This is a Ting Tong dildo box,' she explained. 'Let's hunt around and find something to play with whilst Richard gets ready.' It didn't take long for us to discover a superbly fashioned ivory double-ended godamiche which we put into immediate use. Molly lay back and pushed one end into her soft, sticky pussey. I lay with my legs through hers and positioned myself on the other end of the dildo. What a great feeling it was, cunt-to-cunt with a dear friend and with a nice thick staff inside me. We rocked back and forth together, enjoying the wonderful feeling of rigidity inside us. I love that sensation of having something hard and stiff pushing up inside me, filling me up whilst my cunney juices flow all around it. It was extremely stimulating although of course it could not really rival the hot, throbbing hardness of a genuine cock.

Richard came back into the room as we finished our spree. Neither of us had actually come but our pussies were now well juiced up and ready for a male intruder. 'Come and join us, there's no need to be shy,' I said, as the young man still held back. He smiled and dropping the towel which was draped around his waist, he walked towards us. He certainly was blessed with a thick stalk between his legs, but though it was swinging heavily, it was far from being ready for business but as I judged at the time, he only needed a little encouragement to light the fire.

For how quickly things changed when we got Richard onto the bed between us. We rolled him over on to his back and I sat across his knees while Molly sat perched on his chest. I took hold of his prick in my hand and it immediately swelled up under my soft touch. I knelt down and rubbed my breasts and nipples over his stiff shaft and then took the gleaming helmet into my mouth and began sucking noisily upon it as Molly moved up to place her pussey over his mouth so that he could tongue her cunney. Molly was making throaty noises as his tongue probed inside her cunney lips. His now huge prick was more than a mouthful for me as I sucked away on his knob, caressing his shaft until it was as stiff as iron. Then I shifted myself and lowered my lubricated cunt over his pulsating penis. I sank down gratefully, feeling the ivory column penetrate deeper and deeper inside me. Molly and I bounced up and down on poor Richard in unison and together we wriggled atop our young stud and I could feel waves of arousal taking me over.

After a minute or two of this treatment he removed his face from Molly's pussey and let out a loud growl. I felt his cock throb wildly and shoot out a rivulet of frothy white spunk as he spent copiously, the hot love juice filling my cunney and running down my thighs. A considerate and thoughtful man, Richard recovered himself enough to keep stimulating Molly's pussey with his tongue while his fingers now sought my clitty to finish me off. Molly came quite quickly and he lapped up her love juices as she spent copiously over his face.

'I can't get there without a cock in my cunt,' I said regretfully as I did not believe that Richard was capable of raising any interest for a while. But happily he proved me wrong as the young sportsman simply gave his cock a swift shake and I was amazed to see it swell up to its former flagpole-like state. I took hold of it in my hand and found that such was the girth that I needed two hands to grasp the thick pole. Molly made way for me to lie on my back and Richard threw himself across me. He took his monster cock in one hand and drove home. I could feel it stretching my muscles beyond any previous capacity and I experienced a fulfilment that was simply divine and the thought flashed through my mind that as nice as the little tribadistic episode had been with Molly, nothing could beat the sensation of a big fat prick up one's cunney. Ah, what bliss! Every millimetre of my nook tingled to the pumping of his surging shaft as his wrinkled hairy ballsack bounced against my bum.

'Oh, you big-cocked boy! Fuck my juicy cunt with your thick prick!' I panted as he thrust home, sliding his shaft in and out of my squelchy wetness.

Several times I thought he was on the point of spunking yet somehow he held back until I was ready for him. Again and again, faster and faster he pounded in and out of my crack until my lips emitted one long, hoarse wail as I climaxed again and again in a seemingly multiple orgasm.

Then suddenly he pulled out and reared over me. He gripped his prick hard, giving it two or three convulsive jerks until a huge squirt of salty sperm spouted out, arcing towards my breasts, splashing my nipples, streaming down my belly and into my curly bush.

'Oh, how lewd!' gasped Molly who was watching avidly, frigging herself unashamedly with her hand as she watched me rub the spunk around my erect nipples and all over my belly.

'I haven't finished yet, Anna,' grunted this son of Count Gewirtz, one of the most famous fuckers in Europe. 'Let me show you how I earned my soubriquet of “the gobbling Galician”.'

For yes, dear readers, young Richard Gewirtz's cock was still standing stiff as he knelt back between my legs and slipped his rigid rod back into my soaking slit. Frankly, I just could not keep up and whispered that my pussey could not take too much more cock without a rest. Being a gentleman he replaced his thick prick with his soft, caressing tongue which soothed my sore pussey. He moved round so that his cock was dangling over my face and I took it immediately into my mouth, sucking hard on it. I flicked my tongue against the ridge of his helmet, moving my lips from balls to tip and back again, faster and faster, intoxicated perhaps by the rhythm we had set up.

Suddenly I felt that warm ripple begin in my womb and at the same time his tight buttocks jerked and his great cock shoved hard against the back of my throat. Then his hot frothy flood was released and I felt it spurting out as I greedily swallowed all his love juice, milking that lovely prick until the last drops had been drained from him.

When we had recovered we discussed a plan for Richard to visit us when he was next in Mayfair (for the lad was currently living in Islington) and he exited from the room through the window and down the ladder to the ground.

'Lucky for us that Lady Slapbum will never get to hear of what happened here this afternoon,' commented Molly, 'or I would be expelled from the Club.'

We talked about our three-in-a-bed frolic over tea and I maintained that despite my enjoyment of being finger-fucked by Molly, I still preferred boys as, shall we say, the main course as compared to the girls who could provide a dessert. If a choice were imposed, I would happily live on the meat and easily forgo the pudding-especially if all the cocks measured up to that of Richard Gewirtz.

So ended a grand afternoon's fucking, Mr. Editor, but now I must ask you-was I too forward in accepting Molly's invitation to take part in lesbian love and should we perhaps have simply ignored our randy young window cleaner who may have only fucked us both out of politeness?

Your humble scribe,

Anna Curkin-Nayland

69 Laurie Mansions

Kensington Gore

London, W.

July, 1891

The Editor replies: I am sure that all our readers agree that you deserved your enjoyment. One must experience as many of the joys placed before us by a beneficient Creator as possible or we could be accused of scorning his gifts.

As Mr. Coleridge has it: All thoughts, all passions, all delights. Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but minister of Love, And feed his sacred flame.

I do hope that you continue to enjoy an active and varied love-life.

Sir,

One of the most stringent areas of control exercised by our so-called 'betters' has been that of human sexuality. It is drummed into us that all sexual expression, other than the minimum required for the purposes of procreation, are 'bad' and we ourselves are somehow sinful if we 'pander' to those normal deep-seated biological drives.

Of course, there must be rules and regulations for the conduct of civilised sexual relations. Men who force themselves upon unwilling partners — both inside and outside marriage — are worth little more than the beasts of the field and deserve the harshest of punishments.

However, there can surely be no harm in fantasising about fucking and I must admit that if, for example, I were fortunate enough to be dining with Miss Jenny Everleigh, the scenario would unfold in the following fashion…

After a sumptuous repast in my London pied a terre in Dyott Street, Bloomsbury, I would slip under the table and gently kiss her knees until she relaxed. I would lift her skirt and continue kissing her legs, gradually working higher and higher, my tongue making wet tracks on her soft inner thighs.

When I reached the edge of her brief knickers I would breathe deeply to inhale her pungent feminine odour and then I would place my lips on the crotch of her knickers and blow gently, my warm breath causing Jenny's pussey to become damper and even more fragrant. She would then wriggle her delicious bottom to assist me in pulling down her knickers so that I could nuzzle my face into her silky pubic bush. I would then kiss those pouting pussey lips and, spreading them apart I would alternately drive my tongue deep into her cunney and then pull out to tickle her clitty with small flicks of the tip of my tongue. Finally, I would suck upon that hard button until she gasped with pleasure and flooded my mouth with her tangy love juice.

We would then move to the bed where we would undress each other and she would lay down on the sheet, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as I fondle her breasts and suck the nipples up to a delightful erection. Then I would slip first one finger and then several into her cunt, playfully rubbing her engorged clitty. Occasionally, I would slip my sopping fingers out and let her lick off the salty wetness.

My cock would now be throbbing as Jenny stroked it and gently squeezed my balls. She would smile at the way my hot, hard prick would leap around in her hand and then she would slip down and lap at the fiery red helmet before tonguing my shaft and giving each of my balls a little suck. She would then transfer her attention back to my knob, lapping her wet tongue around the 'eye' before taking my prick into her soft mouth, her wet lips straining to encircle it, finally sliding juicily up and down my pulsating prick until she sucked it deep into her throat, all the way up to my balls.

Somehow, I would manage to turn round into a 'sixty-nine' so that my face was level with her pussey and I would lap up and down her lips, pulling them apart with my fingers so that I could concentrate on her erect little clitty. She gasps with joy and cries out: 'Yes, yes! You're so good. Keep sucking! Eat my pussey! Oh, how I adore it!' and I flick her clitty harder until she spends, her hips bucking as her juices soak my lips.

It is all that I can do not to spend myself, but I manage to maintain my composure as we separate and she would raise her knees and spread them, inviting me to implant my cock into her warm, private love hole. I move up and place her legs on top of my shoulders as I bend down to kiss her. I rub the head of my cock against her soaking crack and slowly I sink into her gorgeous cunt. I pull out and re-enter; each stroke brings me slightly deeper and she whispers fiercely: 'Fuck me, Stanley! Fuck me! What a huge cock you have and how divinely you use it!' Thrusting deep into her dripping pussey I feel her cunney grasping my cock as I slide into the hilt. Her slick channel clasps my shaft lovingly with each long, slow stroke. My hands are roving around her fabulous breasts and she cries: 'Tit-fuck me, darling! There's a good boy! Squirt your spunk on my lovely nips!'

As always, I am ready to please a lady so I pull out of her cunt and she wraps her big breasts around my cock. I thrust between the jiggling flesh and with every stroke she kisses the crown of my cock…

It is too much and I finally erupt with wads of white sperm shooting out of my cock and she opens her mouth and catches some to swallow. She takes hold of my throbbing shaft and sucks it feverishly, milking my prick of every last drop of frothy juice.

Time is closing in on us so once my cock has hardened up again (with a little help from Jenny's friendly tongue), I am ready to fuck her pussey and she turns on her hands and knees and, raising her tight little rounded bottom cheeks, begs me to fuck her doggy-style. I guide it into her sopping slit from behind, my knob sliding easily between her cunney lips and she thrusts her bottom out as I pump forward, locking us into a sensuous rhythm as my thick, stiff shaft rams in and out of her soaking crack. But all too soon I can feel the hot sperm bubble up in my balls and up through my prick which is now thrusting at speed in and out of Jenny's delightful passion pit. I let out a cry of warning and then wham! I plunge my trusty tool as far into her cunney as possible and my balls bang against her bum cheeks as the gorgeous girl thrusts back her bum to receive the spurts of spunk that shoot out from my cock.

Alas, she cannot stay the night and we bathe and dress for she must return home before midnight or risk the wrath of her Mama. Ah, if only I could but translate a fond fantasy into a glorious reality, at the end of my days I would enter the fields of Elysium.

Yours sincerely,

Stanley Wright

Stamford Bridge

York

September, 1892

The Editor replies: I have taken the liberty of sending your billet doux to Miss Everleigh who is spending the summer in the Lake District with Lord Goulthorpe. She asks me to convey her sincere regards but regrets that she is currently being fucked by Sir Graham Giddens and cannot entertain any further pricks until further notice. Nevertheless, she was most flattered that she was the object of desire in your spellbinding fantasy. She is in possession of your name and address, and if the occasion ever arises that she finds herself in Yorkshire, be assured that she will contact you.

Sir,

This cautionary tale will demonstrate the necessity of keeping an accurate appointments diary.

Last Thursday evening I invited three friends from my Club round to my apartments for a few rubbers of bridge. For the record, these gentlemen are probably known to many readers of The Oyster, Sir Lionel Trapes, the bon viveur and Permanent Financial Secretary at The Treasury; Captain Jock Gibson of Edinburgh and Mr. John Walsh, the noted author and critic.

As I shepherded my guests into the lounge, I instructed my man, Bacon, to put a magnum of champagne on ice and bring it in when the bottle had chilled.

'Very good, Sir,' said Bacon who then, instead of retiring with our hats and coats, laid his hand on my arm and hissed: 'Sir, I hope you will not mind my reminding you that you have a rendezvous tonight with Lady Paula Platts-Lane. I could not help but overhear your telephone conversation with her the other morning.'

'By Gad, Bacon, it had completely slipped my mind. I was going to take her to some wretched concert this evening at the Wigmore Hall. Damn, damn, damn! I can't even contact her as she's spending the afternoon with friends out of town.'

'What shall I do, Sir?'

'Well, she said she would take a Prestoncrest carriage and meet me here at eight o'clock, but if she was delayed she would simply come round here as soon as possible and we would spend the evening quietly together.'

'Let's hope she is so engrossed with her friends that she decides to forgo the pleasures of the concert,' said Bacon hopefully. 'After all it is only a charity affair tonight put on by Lady Valerie Fitzcockie of Finchley, and so long as you have bought the seats it hardly matters whether or not they are occupied.'

'That's true enough,' I said. 'Nevertheless, at best I shall still have to explain to Paula that we will be unable to dine a deux as I promised. She will be very angry, to say the least.'

'But so long as you fuck her, Sir, I am sure that she will be satisfied,' murmured Bacon.

I smiled briefly and ordered him to announce Lady Paula and to show her into the lounge whenever she made an appearance. I then followed my guests inside, mixed them some hearty drinks and we sat down to enjoy our game, though I warned them that I had forgotten my previous arrangement with my current amorata.

As it so happens, Paula did not arrive until nearly nine o'clock so that in any case we would have been unable to attend Lady Fitzcockie's concert.

Bacon brought in some sandwiches and champagne, which went down perhaps a little too well as between us we managed to finish the best part of two bottles of my best Scotch whisky even before we began to eat. I freely admit that I was having a slight problem distinguishing spades from clubs and diamonds from hearts for frankly, I have never been a great imbiber and am unable to consume the vast amounts of alcohol that Messrs Walsh and Gibson, for example, can enjoy without any apparent ill-effects.

I well remember, however, that I was dealing out the cards when Bacon threw open the door and announced the arrival of Lady Paula Platts-Lane. I rose somewhat unsteadily to greet her along with the other three gentlemen and I apologised most profusely for having double-booked the evening.

'Oh, don't worry, Larry,' said Paula brightly. 'We would never have been able to go to the concert and I'm quite tired with all the talking this afternoon. You see, some of us girls are going to start up a ladies' club in Belgravia to rival some of your wretched men-only institutions.'

'I trust you do not plan to exclude men from this new establishment,' commented John Walsh, his eyes roving over Paula's wavy brown hair, her attractive face, slim figure, well rounded, firm breasts and long, shapely legs. 'Alas, our club committee will not countenance a lady being introduced into the place.'

'No, we are not so blinkered as the members of the Rawalpindi,' smiled Paula. 'Men will be allowed inside our club, but strictly by invitation only.'

I finished dealing the cards but none of us made to pick any up. Like my three friends I was staring unashamedly at Paula's cream-coloured blouse which was made of such a flimsy material that it was quite transparent and we could easily make out the outline of her large, heavy breasts for she was wearing nothing underneath it, and despite my somewhat dazed state, my prick began to stir as I gazed upon her dark, swollen nipples that pressed against their thin covering.

Paula knew full well what we were staring at but she said nothing except to tell us to finish our game. Slowly and unwillingly we picked up our cards and tried hard to concentrate upon bridge and to banish the sight of Paula's titties from our brains. It was a most difficult feat to accomplish and Sir Lionel, who is generally considered to be amongst the best players in London, unnecessarily trumped John Walsh's winning ten of diamonds whilst I foolishly neglected to cover Jock Gibson's queen of hearts with the king. In normal circumstances such plays would have brought forth cries of rage from the wronged partners, but our minds were no longer on the game.

Indeed, play slowed to a complete halt when Paula said: 'Hasn't it been a warm day, gentlemen? Larry, you do keep this room far too warm. I do declare that you must have also forgotten to instruct Bacon not to light a fire in the hearth.'

With a gleam in his eye Sir Lionel suggested that perhaps she might like to take off some clothes. 'Some clothes, Lionel?' echoed Jock Gibson. 'All of them, more like. How about it, Paula?'

She said nothing but looked the gallant Scottish soldier straight in the eye as she undid the buttons on her blouse and slowly peeled it off. If Bacon was listening at the keyhole (a habit which is endemic in many servants) he must have heard the collective intake of breath as we were given full view of her nude breasts that jutted out proudly, the large titties pouting lasciviously as she caressed her delicious globes, rubbing the nipples up to a stalky firmness.

Then she quickly undid her ankle-length skirt and we gasped as she let it fall to the floor. She was wearing only the briefest of frilly lace knickers and after she stepped out of the skirt which lay on my Persian carpet, she sidled up to Jock and in a tantalising whisper said to him: 'Well, Jock, do you like what you see? Is your Caledonian cock rising in your drawers? If you'll pull down my knickers I'll show you that even an empty whisky bottle has its uses for a clever girl.'

'This promises to be interesting if my guess at what Paula has in mind is correct,' grinned Sir Lionel lewdly.

'Wait and see,' she replied throatily. 'Larry, be an angel and play a little light music on the piano to get me in the mood.'

You are already in the mood, Paula, I thought to myself as I acceeded to her request. What should I play? Brahms, perhaps, or maybe Lizst? No, let it be Beethoven, I decided as I knew how fond she was of his music. I struck up the chords of the beautiful Appassionata and this certainly set Paula off. She danced sensuously around the room before sitting on the sofa with the empty bottle in her hand. Then she slowly leaned backwards, her legs pressed tightly together and she caressed the neck of the bottle with her lips and tongue. Then she moved it lower, running it over her breasts and snow-white tummy before moving it even lower to cut a path through her thick brown bush of curly hair at the base of her belly.

Then she moaned and opened her legs so that we saw her pouting pink pussey lips appear and she moved the bottle between them, pressing the neck gently into her pussey, frigging herself off with it, sliding it in and out of her dampening cunney. This stimulating sight sent Jock Gibson's blood boiling and in a trice he had stripped naked, and holding his stiff shaft in his hand he padded over to the couch. He leaned over Paula to massage her lovely big breasts and she lifted her head to press her mouth over the bulging uncapped knob of his thick prick.

The sight of the beautiful girl holding Jock's cock while she lustily sucked his balls drove us wild and my hands left the keyboard to tear wildly at my trouser buttons so that I could release my huge erection that was threatening to burst through the crotch of my trousers. Sir Lionel was the first however to divest himself fully of his clothes and he sunk to his knees between Paula's legs and firmly removed the bottle that had been sliding in and out of her pussey and replaced it with his tongue as he licked and lapped at her juicy quim, his nose buried in her mossy mount.

'Now, Lionel, that's enough of your tongue — stick that thick prick up my cunt, there's a dear fellow,' cried Paula, her lips temporarily leaving the glistening shaft of Jock Gibson's meaty cock. 'I want it all. Oh, Lionel, please fuck me!'

As befitted a gentleman and a scholar, Sir Lionel raised-his head to her titties and lapped at them in turn as the excited girl took hold of his throbbing tool and guided it herself, inserting the uncapped knob into the welcoming folds of her cunney. At the same time, Paula resumed sucking Jock's veiny staff, noisily slurping away as he fucked her mouth, his slippery shaft almost fully between her red lips, so that his knob must have been almost touching her tonsils.

She wriggled merrily as Lionel pumped his raging shaft in and out of her sodden cunney. Paula bucked and twisted, all the while urging the randy baronet to thrust deeper, deeper as she raised her elegant legs and wrapped them behind his broad shoulders. Cupped now in his palms, her tight little bum cheeks rotated savagely as he pushed in, pushed out and pushed back again, his balls slapping against her bottom.

John Walsh reached this lewd trio just seconds before me and Paula grasped his erect penis with her right hand leaving me to stand alongside Jock Gibson so that she could clasp her fourth cock, which was standing high against my belly, with her left hand. 'This is better than bridge,' declared John and we all chorused our agreement except for Paula, whose mouth was still engorged with Jock's huge cock, but she managed to nod her head slightly in agreement.

What a tableau greeted Bacon as he wheeled in a trolley of assorted sandwiches! There in front of his astonished eyes were Lady Paula naked on the Chesterfield being fucked by Sir Lionel as she fellated Jock Gibson whilst frigging John Walsh and myself with her hands.

The old valet stood transfixed as with a yell Jock shouted: 'Hoots! Here it comes!' as he ejaculated a veritable flood of spunk into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could but the juice ran out over her lips and down her chin as with a grunt Lionel expelled his essence into her cunney, the white froth filling her love channel to trickle down her thighs. John and I were the next to spend which we did simultaneously, our fountains of spunk jetting upwards to rain down on Paula's large titties and we rubbed in the white love juice around her nipples as she herself shuddered with a most delightful series of climaxes.

We lay panting in an exhausted heap as Bacon cleared his throat and said: 'I have taken the liberty of running a bath, Sir, and perhaps you and your friends might like to allow Lady Platts-Lane to avail herself of the facilities.'

'What a splendid idea, Bacon,' I said and after Paula had finished in the bathroom we four men took showers before assembling back in the lounge where we refreshed ourselves with smoked salmon, caviare and champagne.

After we had quaffed our fill, Paula giggled and said: 'Larry, I have a confession to make to you.'

'Really, darling, and what might that be?' I asked.

'Well, I did not actually spend this afternoon quietly discussing the formation of a new club with my friends Carolyn and Melanie,' she began.

'Ha, ha, ha,' laughed Sir Lionel. 'I'll wager a thousand pounds there is a man involved somewhere. Come on, Paula, don't be shy-who was the lucky fellow? Anyone I know? Jonathan Arkley, perhaps, or young Harry Price? Or is there some dashing new young man about town?'

'Oh, Lionel, I can never keep anything from your sharp brain. Well, if you must know, there were two boys involved,' admitted Paula. 'But I don't think I should really tell you exactly what went on.'

'You'll do much better if you make a clean breast of it,' suggested Jock Gibson firmly and John Walsh nodded his agreement.

'You won't be angry though, will you, Larry?' asked Paula anxiously. 'Promise me you won't be cross.'

'Of course I will, my sweet,' I reassured her, kissing her on the lips. 'After all, anything you did will pay me back for forgetting our arrangement tonight, though truth to tell I am well satisfied with the outcome so far this evening.'

Paula downed the rest of her champagne and said: 'Very well, then, I will tell all. I did take tea with Carolyn and Melanie and we did talk about the possibilities of starting up a new ladies club-but at five o'clock who should walk in but Carolyn's fiance, young Antony Jammond, with his friend Fred Noolan. We chatted gaily to the boys about this and that but I noticed that poor Antony looked somewhat miserable and far from his usual bright, cheery self.

'“Is anything the matter, Antony?” I asked him. “Oh, don't worry about him, Paula,” said Fred. “He is agitated over a personal matter and although I and several other friends have assured him there is no cause for concern, he cannot rid his mind of a foolish and unrewarding notion.”

'“This sounds serious,” said Carolyn. “Darling, do tell us what is worrying you. Perhaps we will be able to take the weight of whatever is troubling you off your mind.”

'At first Antony was bashful but in the end he admitted what was causing him such anxiety — “It's the small size of my prick,” he said. “I have noticed in the bath after cricket that all my friends are far better endowed than me. I am sure that Fred here, for example, can give the ladies far more pleasure with his huge chopper than I can with my relatively tiny little instrument.”

'Melanie frowned and said: “It never ceases to amaze me that so many men are obsessed with the size of their pricks.”

'“ Yes, but we girls worry in the same silly way about the size of our titties,” said Carolyn.

'“We're as bad as each other,” I summed up, “for as everyone knows, it is quality not quantity that counts. As Jenny Everleigh puts it, what counts is not the size of the wave but the motion of the ocean!”

'“All very well,” said Antony. “But ask any one hundred young men if they would like another three inches of cock, and if they answer honestly, you would find that the huge majority would reply in the affirmative.”

'“I agree,” said Carolyn. “And if you asked one hundred girls if they would like extra inches added to their busts, you'd get a similar result, I'll be bound.”

'“Let's face it,” added Antony, “we are not created equal. Carolyn would like a bigger bust and I would willingly give anything to be able to boast a nine-and-a-half-inch prick like Fred here.”

'I gave Fred's crotch an admiring glance, for though I stoutly maintain that size is not all-important, I must admit that the sight of a big thick prick does cause my knickers to moisten! However, I turned my mind back to the problem of how best to show Antony and Carolyn the error of their ways.

T decided that only a physical demonstration would show how misguided they were about this whole matter. So I asked if they would be prepared in a practical fashion to help me prove my point that size is immaterial so long as both partners are in receptive mood. They readily agreed and so, very sportingly, did Fred and Melanie who needed no persuasion to take my point of view but were eager to assist their misguided friends. 'To cut this story short, I began by instructing the two men to leave the room, and to take off all their clothes upstairs in the main bedroom where we would shortly join them. After they left us, I explained to the other girls what they had to do and they laughed heartily when I explained my plan.

'We three also stripped naked but before we went upstairs, I borrowed three of Carolyn's silk scarves which I took up with me. When we entered the bedroom the two boys looked goggle-eyed at the three pretty naked girls and their shafts stiffened up nicely as we fondled their cocks and balls and let them play with our titties and cunnies. Then I blindfolded the two girls before guiding them over to a small table and telling them to bend over it. They obeyed, giggling, and the boys licked their lips at the sight of this pair of rounded bums thrust out towards them. It was time now to explain to Antony that he was to be blindfolded and I bound Melanie's scarf around his head until he assured me upon his word of honour that he could see nothing. At the same time I called for complete silence and for all conversation, to cease.'

'What a splendid story, I can't think what you had in mind. I am sure we are about to hear of a most richerchi happening,' said John Walsh enthusiastically offering Paula a fresh glass of ice-cold champagne.

'Hold on and all will be revealed,' laughed Paula, accepting the glass from the handsome literateur and bon viveur. 'Despite his blindfold, Antony's cock was still stiff as a poker as I grasped it and brought his sturdy shaft (which was admittedly only of average proportion) to the vale between Carolyn's well-rounded contours. “Listen, Antony,” I said to him. “I am now placing the crown of your cock between the cheeks of this delightful girl's bum. Can you feel your knob sliding into her juicy grotto? Now gently thrust your shaft all the way in until your balls bang against her inner thighs whilst at the same time you take hold of her breasts in your hands and flick her titties up to stand hard and proud against your fingers. Let your prick throb its pleasure inside that juicy cunt but let it stay immobile until I tell you to begin fucking. And please remember, everybody, if this experiment is to work there must be no talking.”'

T then turned to Fred Noolan and stretched out a hand to caress his huge prick which was at least two inches longer than Antony's instrument and whose girth was appreciably thicker. I rather fancied being fucked by Fred myself but my experiment had to take precedence. I inserted his cock into Melanie's cunney from behind and then said: “Very well, begin fucking but remember, not a word from anyone!”

'The lack of conversation did not inhibit in the slightest and the only sounds to be heard were the smacking of bellies to bottoms and the squelchy sound of pulsating pricks sliding juicily in and out of clinging cunnies. I frigged my own sopping pussey at the lascivious sight but I wanted a cock in my crack so I squeezed Fred's big ballsack and then Antony's smaller little bag to make them spend quicker. The touch of my soft fingers worked its magic and both boys squirted out copious emissions of love juice into their partners' pussies.

'Fred moved away and I was delighted to see that his glistening shaft was still semi-stiff. I took hold of Antony's hand and led him to the centre of the room where I took off his blindfold and at my bidding we all sat down as I began to question him. “Now, I know you will all promise to answer my questions truthfully,” I said. “First, let me begin with Carolyn. Now, who do you think was fucking you just now? But before you answer, was the thick cock sliding in and out of your pussey big enough to satisfy you?”

'“I think it must have been Fred fucking me, Paula, for in answer to your last question, yes, indeed, the owner of the cock concerned can be justly proud of its length and girth. What a whopper! It stretched my cunney muscles delightfully.”

'I said nothing but turned to Antony and said: “And which girl do you think had her love channel filled by your charger? I noticed that you had your hands around her breasts whilst you were pumping your spunk inside the lucky lady's pussey. Can they provide a clue?”

'Antony thought the matter over for a moment and said: “I really cannot be positive but as the girl concerned possessed ample bosoms and the most delightfully stalky nipples, I will plump for Melanie. Yes, I am sure that I was fucking her and not Carolyn.”

'I bowed and said: “I rest my case. Both of you, Carolyn and Antony, wrongly judged the identity of your erstwhile partners and without any prompting from me you both stated how satisfied you were with the equipment a beneficent Creator has provided!”

'“A rock solid case,” chimed in Fred. “I think they both owe you a debt of gratitude for neither should worry any longer about the intimate side of their future life together.”

'To their credit, both Carolyn and Antony showered praise upon me but more than anything, I preferred to be rewarded by being fucked by Fred. The happy engaged couple left the room and left us to it. It was quite stimulating to see us both nude in the dress mirror and I pushed Fred down on the bed and kissed him passionately on the lips whilst my hand stole up and down his thick staff whilst his hands roamed freely all over my curvaceous body. Then shaking clear a fringe of hair from my face I leaned downwards to kiss the uncapped helmet of his cock and I opened my lips to take it in my mouth. I sucked slowly, tickling and working round the little “eye” on the top of the bulbous dome whilst Fred parted my unresisting thighs and inserted two fingers into my moist, longing cunt.

'I could feel a delicious sensation spread from my cunney to all over my body as he moved carefully across me. I was able to keep sucking his great cock as he managed to wriggle over and nuzzle my pussey lips so that we found ourselves in a perfect soixante neuf. He nipped lightly at my lips, running his tongue along the edge of my crack which fairly turned my insides to liquid. Oh, Fred was a marvellous artiste with his tongue and I tossed and turned as his wicked lapping in and out of my cunney brought me off to a spend. I sucked a little harder on his cockshaft and massaged his balls as I sucked away with relish. Soon I felt his balls tremble inside their sack and I judged that he was about to spend. In a moment a stream of hot cream spurted into my mouth and his prick bucked as I held his knob between my teeth. Again, I enjoyed the supreme pleasure as I swallowed the copious rivulet of spunk that poured from Fred's magnificent cock. Then, as the last drops had been gathered up by my flickering tongue, I felt the spongy textured tool soften as I rolled my lips around it.

'But I mightily desired this magnificent cock in my cunney-and the question which had to be faced was whether Fred could build up another head of steam. I gently drew him over my body and directed his semi-stiff prick between my pussey lips. He was hardly fully ready for business but the instincts of nature triumphed as he helped shove his shaft inside my willing love channel. At first we lay motionless, billing and cooing with out lips, till I began a slight motion with my bum to which he eagerly responded. Ah, what ecstacy as I felt his thick prick swell inside my luscious sheath which received it so lovingly.

'How I enjoyed that delicious fuck! Fred opened the lips of my splendid cunney gently with his fingers and tie cunningly frigged me with the mushroom helmet of his cock until I got so excited that I began thrashing around and shouted out: “Oh! Ah! Shove it in, Fred! Do push it in further, Fred darling! I must have it! Oh! Oh! Ah-h! Ah-h-re!” and I wantonly heaved my bottom upwards to each of his lustful thrusts.

'This was such a delightful engagement that I tried to keep Fred from spending for as long as possible. Once every last inch of his magnificent tool was inside me and our pubic hairs were mashed together, I closed my thighs, making this handsome young chap open his own legs and lie astride me with his cock sweetly trapped inside my cunt. Fred could not really move his shaft forwards or backwards as the muscles of my cunney were gripping his staff so tightly, but then I ground my hips round, massaging his shaft as it throbbed powerfully inside my juicy love-channel which was dribbling juices all down my thighs. He grasped my bum cheeks (something that I absolutely adore whilst being fucked) so I eased the pressure round his prick very slightly and he began to drive wildly in and out, fucking me at high speed which was most exciting.

'My pussey clamped down in a final burst of joy as his stiff jerking prick gave a final throb before jetting out a torrent of hot cream deep inside me. I pushed my pussey up against him, burying his pulsating cock even deeper and let all that wonderful white froth bathe my inner walls as my whole body glowed with lust. Fred pumped away until his cock was milked of every last drain of juice and he slowed his thrusts to a halt. Panting heavily, he rolled off me and we lay gasping for breath as we gradually recovered our senses. What a magnificent cock! But even more important, as I gently reminded Antony, was that Fred was a passionate and considerate lover who would make any girl happy even if he had not had the good fortune to have been blessed with such a large instrument of pleasure. However, the thought did cross my mind that a big, big prick like Fred's did wet the appetite more than Antony's relatively puny little penis.

'We dressed ourselves after a refreshing warm bath and enjoyed our tea. Don't you all find how hungry one feels after a good fuck? We wolfed down sandwiches, cake and later toasted each other with a farewell glass of brandy.

'And that,' concluded Paula brightly, 'is how I spent this afternoon. It was a most energetic affair, but do you know, gentlemen, the recounting of these lewd happenings has made me terribly randy again. Perhaps I could prevail upon you, John, to fuck me as I have a great desire for it just now.'

Well, as readers of The Oyster will know, John Walsh does not have to be asked twice! In a trice the pair were thrashing around naked on the sofa and John was moving his hands around her gorgeous body with practised ease. He squeezed her firm breasts, rubbing the big dark nipples against his palms, making them rise up into little red stalks. He then began to kiss her entire body from her forehead downwards until he arrived at her open pussey and I could smell Paula's tangy feminine aroma as she guided the good-looking young critic's thick prick into her yearning wet cunney.

She wrapped her arms and legs around his well-built frame and urged him to make it 'hard and fast, John — let me feel every inch of your big tool.' 'As you wish, my love,' replied the literary cocksman politely as he slowly moved on top of her and Paula responded excitedly, opening her legs wide and clamping her feet round his back as he guided his throbbing shaft into her soaking little nookie. She took up the rhythm of his thrusts and I could see her legs shake and tremble and from my own encounters with Paula, I knew that she would soon be spending.

This erotic spectacle was too much for me to bear and I grabbed hold of my own swelling shaft and pulled my fist up and down, frigging it to its highest erection. 'Join in, Lawrence, join in!' cried Paula so I approached them, my cock in my hand as I knelt down to insert my knob into Paula's willing mouth. She grabbed hold of my cock and pulled three inches or so into her mouth, lashing my pole with her tongue as she sucked noisily away upon it.

Sir Lionel Trapes now approached us, his great aristocratic cock twitching uncontrollably in his hand, but just before Paula could grasp it he cried out: 'I'm spunking!' and he pumped out spurt after spurt of hot sticky cream over the entwined Paula and John, who, oblivious to their coating of jism were still panting and thrusting. The end was nigh, however, and I felt the sperm boiling up in my balls as with a gasp I shot a fierce jet of juice into Paula's mouth as John gave a powerful surging stroke and drenched Paula's eager cunney with a flood of frothy sperm as her hands grabbed his bum cheeks, pushing him deeper and deeper inside her until they collapsed, utterly exhausted, in a tangle of limbs on the cushions, and I must confess that the somewhat uncharitable thought flashed through my mind that I would have to instruct Bacon to sponge the sofa as soon as possible with Lady Gaffney's special stain remover as love juices can be the very devil to remove.

Well, Mr. Editor, so ended the evening for me as Paula decided to spend the night with John Walsh and I was left to spend the night quite alone. As I wrote in the foreword to this missive, it certainly does pay to keep an accurate appointments diary, and I commend the diligent keeping of such records to all readers of The Oyster.

I am always, Sir, Your Obedient Servant,

(The Hon.) Lawrence Judd-Hughes

Dunton House

Albemarle Street

London, W

September, 1889

The Editor replies: Readers need not shed too many tears for Mr. Judd-Hughes who must surely be one of the most famed cocksmen in Old London Town. We know for certain that in the last six weeks he has plugged the cunnies of Lady Emily Aldegonde, the ravishing young redheaded ingenue at the Drury Lane Theatre, Miss Beatrice Buxley and the lovely Lucy Lockette, the seventeen-year-old daughter of Lady Clare, after first having his way with her dear Mama the previous evening!

If these memories of past glories fail to mollify our correspondent let him remember the verse he himself penned in a previous issue of this magazine two years ago:

When wishes first enter a maiden's breast,

She longs by her lover to be caressed;

She longs for her lover to do the trick,

But in secret she longs for a taste of his prick!

Her cunney is itching from morning to night,

The stiff cock of her boy will yield her delight;

She longs to be fucked, and for that does deplore,

For what can a young maiden wish for more?

She'd like very well to be laid on the grass,

To have two ample bollocks sent bang 'gainst her arse,

If fever or sickness her spirits doth shock,

Why, we know what she needs, 'tis a stiff standing cock!

Sir,

It is with pride that I pen this epistle to you for I believe that I can justly claim to be the first girl to be fucked by-Mr. Jeffrey Longbottom M.P. inside the portals of the House of Commons. Of course, I do not claim to be the first feminine recipient of Jeffrey Longbottom's cock in my cunney — his many conquests have been the subject of gossip in London Society for several years. However, I do claim the distinction of being the first to enjoy the pleasant sensation of lodging this clever politician's prick in my pussey during a Parliamentary debate, and at the suggestion of my old friend Sir Lionel Trapes I now set down the circumstances of this historic coupling, which I trust your readers will enjoy as much as I delighted in partaking of this lewd experience.

I had met Jeffrey at a dinner party hosted by Doctor Le Baigue in aid of the Society For The Dissemination Of Useful Knowledge Amongst The Deserving Poor and I was pleased to find that I was sitting next to him during our meal. During the small talk that accompanies introductions, we discovered we had friends in common in Scotland and we had indeed met before (though we had not actually been introduced as such) at Colonel David Taylor's summer ball at his country seat just south of Glasgow. Anyhow, Jeffrey and I chatted about this and that and I asked him about the newspaper reports on rowdy scenes in Parliament — were they as bad as had been detailed in the newspapers?

'Not really, m'dear,' he replied. 'It is quite true that in the House of Commons we have nowadays occasional scenes of disorder which are not very creditable to us. And amongst the Radicals there appear to be a few ill-mannered individuals who seem unaware of their responsibility and who bring contempt upon the body of which they ought to be proud. But I am sure that this is by no means a new state of things and that in former times similar scenes occurred.

'After all, we live in a sensational age,' he continued. 'The popular papers take up a little contretemps and blow it up out of all proportion. So readers are told about scenes in the Commons and think that the country is going to the dogs. They forget, though, how smoothly and on the whole satisfactorily the Government of this world-wide Empire with its three hundred million subjects is being carried on.'

'That is good to hear, Mr. Longbottom. However, I do hope that not all the business carried on is conducted in a terribly serious and formal way as I had planned to visit the House tomorrow as part of my studies for my entrance examinations to university.'

'Good heavens, you are not going to study Political Economy are you?' he gasped. 'Is a pretty young girl like you about to turn into one of these wild women who are demanding the vote?'

'I'm afraid that I am, but don't let's argue. After all, we won't convince each other of the correctness of our positions. And as I am sure that women will gain the vote in the end-for the tide of history cannot be turned back-there is little point in engaging in a debate.'

He laughed and said: 'By George, that's a fine way to win your points! I must use that trick in the House! But to reply to your original query, no, not all the business is conducted with great solemnity.

'It is a very curious thing but the House of Commons always seems to contain one amusing fellow. Mr. Joseph Chamberlain told me only last week that there is always one wit in the House and when he dies or ceases to be elected, another springs up immediately to take his place.'

'Is he usually a Liberal or a Conservative?' I enquired.

'Oh, he could belong to either party for along with his predilection for buffoonery he has a hatred for which ever Government happens to be in office.'

Now it was just at this point, when the lobster bisque was being spooned into the tureens of Doctor Le Baigue's famous and indeed almost priceless seventeenth-century French china dinner service, that I felt a foot insinuate itself between my own and rub gently up and down my leg. Surely it could not be Jeffrey Longbottom for the Honourable Member had given no indication of amatory intent whilst he was speaking to me. I glared at the gentleman on my left but he was busily engaged in conversation with the lady on his own left flank…

The intruding foot continued its journey, rubbing sinuously against my leg, getting higher and higher and almost reaching my knee as Jeffrey concluded: 'Oh yes, m'dear, there will always be a place in the House for one chap who is a little cracked. He is there today, he was there fifty years ago and will doubtless be there fifty years hence.'

Yet still I could feel this mysterious foot which had insinuated itself between my feet and was now moving between my legs up to my knees. I glanced at Jeffrey and I could see that strange as it might be, it was indeed this handsome MP who, being a supple athlete, was moving his right leg in time to the movement I could feel underneath the table. I said nothing and he stopped caressing me with his foot until the ladies retired. I went straightaway to the powder room and when I emerged, he was standing in the hallway having taken his leave of Doctor Le Baigue and the other male guests in the dining room.

'I am bored by all the masculine talk in there,' he said lightly, pointing behind him. 'Why not join me upstairs for tete a tete coffee and liqueurs in Doctor Le Baigue's inner sanctum?'

'Will we not be missed?' I asked anxiously. 'Won't people start searching for us?'

'Unlikely, but even if they did, no guest would venture into Denis's little private room,' said Jeffrey cheerfully. 'It is so private that he fucks Kitty the chambermaid on Tuesday evenings and Betty Morgan the actress on Thursday afternoons here.'

'You are remarkably well-informed,' I said, trying to sound sophisticated rather than shocked at his frankness.

'Well, we are old friends and he often confides in me,' he replied simply, opening the door of the aforesaid room for me. Obviously, the rogue had prepared everything whilst I had been in the powder-room for there was a pot of steaming coffee on a gas burner and a fine selection of liqueurs arranged on a small table.

'Do you fuck, Debbie?' asked the rascally politician. 'I hope the question does not offend.'

I suppose I should have at least credited him with posing a question in a straightforward fashion but I was rather cross at the crudity of his approach. 'Yes, of course I do not refuse myself the pleasures of the flesh,' I replied. 'But I find your bluntness unappealing. Like the vast majority of women I prefer to be wooed.'

He begged my forgiveness and then insisted that it was my beauty that had captivated him; that the sight of my breasts bulging out of the admittedly low neckline of my evening gown had given him a huge hard-on which was still troubling him almost an hour later; and that he desperately needed to relieve his feelings.

I looked down and sure enough there was a meaty bulge in the area of his crotch. I leaned forward and stroked it and he groaned as I felt his staff pulse through the material of his black evening trousers. 'Oh, do take it out, Debbie, or I will spunk inside my drawers,' he whispered fiercely. I was now aroused and I could feel my pussey dampening as I unbuttoned his fly and drew out his cock. It was a fine specimen with a large ruby head and I took hold of the sturdy shaft and gave the ivory column a preliminary little tug. He smiled and placed his arms round me and I made not even a show of resistance as he raised my head upwards and closer to his own and our lips closed upon each other's and we melted away into a most arduous kiss.

I felt myself being borne back and we fell together, Jeffrey taking extreme care however that I would come to no harm in doing so. As our lips remained glued, he carefully unbuttoned my dress and somehow I managed to wriggle out of it. He pulled down my drawers and with a certain roughness that I did not find displeasing he thrust my legs apart, raising himself a little above me on one hand whilst with the other he pulled down his own clothing as the large knob of his cock pressed down upon my cunney lips.

'M'mm, that's nice,' I murmured as his knob continued to press into my wetness. For a moment our eyes locked together and then, with a heartfelt sigh, he inserted an inch or so of his thick prick and was full upon me. Our lips meshed and I wriggled my arse to obtain more of this meaty morsel. Jeffrey understood my need and clutching my naked bum cheeks, embedded his throbbing cock down to the root and in some magical way my cunney expanded to receive it…

'Would you enjoy a thick prick sliding in and out of your juicy love-channel, m'dear?' panted the randy rascal. 'A-h-r-e!'

I could not speak. I was filled by him. His big balls hung in their hairy sack beneath the bulge of my bum as his lips savaged my own. With a passionate jolt of his loins, he inserted the full length of his hard, smooth shaft inside my cunney. Then the rotter took out all but the very tip of his knob which made me beg for its immediate return! I know that some measure of modesty should be present at all times even in the first few moments of erotic bliss but I cried out unashamedly for his cock to be thrust back into my ever-dampening cunt.

We began to fuck in joyful unison, our bottoms heaving together as he worked his staff in and out of my luscious crack. 'Oh, what a delicious pussey you have,' he gasped. 'How tightly it clasps and sucks upon my cock! That's it, Debbie, work your arse! Ah, now not too much or I shall spunk before you are fully ready to receive my juice!'

Fortunately no-one entered the room during our joust, though in truth we were lost in that sensual world where fulfilment is all. Jeffrey's cock slewed in and out of my slit, pistoning back and forth and I gloried in each powerful stroke as my own juices sprinkled his balls. Cupped now upon his broad palms, the tight cheeks of my bum rotated savagely as his lusty tool continued to ram in and out of me at an increasing pace. I was now ready for his libation and I cried out: 'I'm almost there! Empty your balls, you big-cocked boy!' And with his face buried in my neck and his hot breath on my shoulder I could feel that he too was passing the point of no return. Though we both may have wanted it to last, we were very soon lost in the throes of orgasm and I felt my cunney awash with spunk as my pussey exploded around his throbbing cock. We were enveloped in the delight of a beautifully judged simultaneous climax as we collapsed in a rather undignified heap of limbs.

'That is a truly fine member you have there, Jeffrey,' I said, complimenting him upon his prowess, for I always believe in praising a good lover. Especially in London, I rarely fail to lavish affection when due, as unlike back home in Scotland, down South a hard man is good to find. Perhaps I lack the necessary information for a scientific appraisal, but my own empiric research shows that Scots possess thicker pricks than Englishmen — Jeffrey Longbottom, of course, is an exception to this rule.

We dressed hastily, for we did not exactly care to explain where we had been, and fortune was with us as we were not missed by the other guests. Jeffrey offered to escort me home but I explained that I had already booked a Prestoncrest carriage for the short journey to Brown's Hotel, Mayfair.

However, we arranged to take tea together the next day at the House of Commons and I hardly slept that night as I was so excited at the idea of being escorted round the grand Parliament Buildings.

Jeffrey had informed the attendant at the gate of the visitors' entrance that I was expected and a messenger was dispatched to find him. 'What constituency does Mr. Longbottom represent?' I asked the gatekeeper.

'He represents Cockermouth in the Liberal interest,' said the liveried flunkey. How appropriate, I thought to myself, as Jeffrey's tall figure came into view.

'Hello, Debbie, how nice to see you,' he said as we shook hands. 'Look, if you're quick we could nip into the Lords and you could see Black Rod.'

'I saw enough of “White Rod” last night,' I said gaily.

'Ha, ha, yes indeed, and I trust you enjoyed the view. But as I am sure you know, the Black Rod to which I allude refers not to the colour of the King of Cameroon's cock but to the officer of the House of Lords and Order of the Garter whose job it is to summon the Commons at the Opening of Parliament.'

We didn't see Black Rod as a matter of fact but Jeffrey escorted me into the Distinguished Strangers Gallery of the Commons chamber where a debate on agricultural matters was taking place. The speaker, Mr. Derek Tong, MP for West Kent, was droning on about the high incidence of poaching. He was railing about the pathetic pictures which are frequently painted of the game laws and the constant and pitiless persecution of the poor poacher.

'It is really quite laughable,' added Mr. Tong, 'to all who know that during the last thirty years, poaching has been steadily followed as a “trade” by men who will not work even when work is plentiful and easily found. We can all sympathise with the occasional starving labourer whom some overzealous keeper has found with a couple of rabbits in his pocket which he had knocked over for his wife's pot; but to bestow words of sympathy on the lazy scoundrels who shoot hares and net the partridge preserves must be left to the friends of humanity who become sentimental at the expense of sound old-fashioned common-sense.'

The debate continued and Jeffrey whispered to me how interesting it was to compare the colours of dress favoured by the honourable members. 'My friend Professor Trower says that to look our best, we should wear colours suited to our personalities.

'Strong, solid types like Arbuthnut Powell, the Under Secretary for Home Affairs, should dress conservatively in medium tones such as brown. Bright sparks like the Financial Secretary, Harry Price, look best in navy and in summer should forget any muted colours and go for striking shades.'

'An interesting theory,' I murmured over the drone of Mr. Tong's voice. 'But not so interesting as that bulge between your legs, Jeffrey Longbottom.'

He grinned and sidled round behind me, looking around to check that there were no other visitors in the Gallery. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear he cheekily slid his hands under my dress and proceeded to pull down my drawers! I looked behind to see him unbutton his trousers and take out his swelling shaft, slipping the skin down to bare his purple-domed helmet. I licked my lips as I took his erect prick in my two hands and dropped down on my knees.

My hair tumbled over my face as I moistened my lips and let his knob slide into my mouth. I could feel his cock gliding in till it was at the back of my throat-I gulped and it slid down and down. He withdrew slowly and began to slide my lips slowly over his fat crown and then I was sliding my mouth faster and faster up and down that hot shaft. He bucked his cock in and out of my mouth and I could feel his balls slapping my chin. My climax was building quickly inside me as I felt Jeffrey's fingers in my hair and suddenly he grunted as his body went rigid and then his prick was bursting in my mouth and jet after jet of his thick salty spunk was hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed and swallowed, gulping down the tangy juice as I milked his cock of every drop of his jism.

Slowly his cock slid from my mouth and now it was my turn to gasp for air. But silently, the honourable member for Cockermouth laid me down on the padded bench and, throwing Up my skirt, began to kiss and lick at my dampening pussey. He wiggled his tongue all around my crack. My senses reeled and I started moaning and panting as his tongue flicked against my clitty. I pulled his face tightly against my cunt as his lips slipped inside, his warm tongue prodding through my wet cleft to lead me to a little series of tingling peaks.

This was nice but I fancied a proper fuck, so I whispered to Jeffrey to lie on his back on the bench which he did with his noble cock waving like a flagpole, and then I sat astride him, pressing the lips of my aching slit down upon the glistening knob.

I spread my cunney lips apart and directed the tip of this glowing cock to the entrance as I slowly eased myself on top of him, spitting myself beautifully on his rigid rod. His hands slid round to clasp my bum as I wriggled around to work the hard staff as far up inside me as possible.

I bounced merrily away as I leaned down to Jeffrey and chuckled: 'Keep your cock up! Oooh! That's marvellous, you're giving my clitty a good rub as well! Somehow we stayed silent as I worked my bum from side to side as Jeffrey jerked his hips up and down in rhythm to my own movements. But whilst I enjoy the so-called female superior position as a variant in one's pattern of fucking, it can be quite exhausting when your legs are in a cramped position as mine were on that bench. So I let the rhythm slow down as Jeffrey continued to thrust upwards to meet my own downward pushes.

Meanwhile, on the floor of the House, Mr. Tong was still on his feet. 'From what is called “game",' he said sternly, 'the national commissariat derives an annual contribution of twenty-seven million pounds weight of wholesome and palatable food. Abundant evidence exists to show that sport wrongs no-one and benefits many. Those who rail against all forms of sport should bear in mind that the pastimes of country gentlemen help thousands of the lower classes earn their daily bread.'

'Do you want to come now, Jeffrey?' I asked just as Mr. Tong was building up to a rhetorical point, is there anyone here who dares disagree?' he thundered.

'Yes! Yes! Yes!' growled Jeffrey, oblivious to everything except the boiling sperm that was building up in his balls.

Mr. Tong looked up angrily at the Gallery where fortunately only my face could be seen over the rail. Luckily he could not see his fellow member's hands running freely across my breasts, tweaking the stiffly standing little nipples under the thin silk of my blouse. I smiled sweetly at Mr. Tong who looked angrily at me but who, after a brief interlude, decided to return to his speech.

As he continued, with a fierce little groan Jeffrey worked his cock up inside me and commenced pumping his spunk in a copious emission until all was done and I lifted myself off the sodden shaft, still quite thick and long, as it dribbled its tribute in a snail's trail of white froth along his thigh. I had come several times and had also splashed Jeffrey's trousers with my spendings. 'Goodness me, I hope you are not needed to vote in a division,' I giggled softly.

'It's just as well that I'm not needed,' he murmured, it would take a far cleverer politician than me to explain away these spunky stains. Not even my friend Professor Trower could help me here!'

Coincidentally, the Speaker then called on the members to vote. 'All those in favour say “Aye"' he shouted. I joined in the chorus for though I am not and probably never will be a Parliamentarian, I think my conjoining with an honourable member entitles me to at least a footnote in Hansard!

A final word to feminine connoisseurs: Mr. Longbottom's spunk is tangy enough but though plentiful, cannot compare in smoothness of flavour to that of the Duke of Hampstead or of the Laird of Midlothian.

I am concerned, though, Mr. Editor, that my making love in a chamber other than that of the bed will not upset the sensibilities of your many readers.

I am, Sir, Your humble servant,

Deborah Davenport

Castle Abroch

Loch Hayim

Scotland

October 1890

The Editor replies: It is to be hoped that Miss Davenport feels no worry about her enjoyment of this erotic encounter in the Mother of Parliaments. Again, let me use Lawrence Judd-Hughes' verse to illustrate my feelings upon the matter:

'Let maidens of a tim'rous mind

Refuse what most they're wanting;

Since we for fucking were designed,

We surely should be granting.

So when your lover feels your cunt,

Do not be coy, nor grieve him;

But spread your thighs and heave your front,

For fucking is like heaven.'

Sir,

I know it is the policy of your publication to print only letters which give the name of the writer. But I must beg your indulgence and pen this epistle under the cloak of anonymity for if my identity were to be established I would almost certainly lose my position as a private tutor.

I must explain that whilst the majority of my students are of a mature age and drawn from the very creme de la creme of our best families, very occasionally I am called upon to coach younger persons for school or university entrance examinations.

Perhaps I should add that I myself am the second son of a most respected clergyman whose parish is not a thousand miles from the parishes of St James and St George and many parents entrust their sons and daughters to my unchaperoned care. Until last week, none of my students have distracted my attention from the work to be performed but as the old saw has it, there is always the first time…

Let me set the scene for you; picture if you will the study in my apartment near Baker Street. I await the arrival of Miss Tilly Diddlecombe and her younger twin sisters, Lottie and Eugenie. Tilly needed extra preparation for her final examinations at Bedford College where she is taking a degree in Modern Languages whilst her Papa, the Reverend Mark Diddlecombe, had informed me that he would be grateful if I could also assist Tilly's twin sisters who needed help with their French as they wished to gain proficiency in that tongue before setting off on a grand tour with Sir Timothy and Lady Heather Shackleton, who as many of your readers know, take young people every summer on a cultural tour of the Continent.

It was last Thursday afternoon when I first set eyes upon my new pupils. My maidservant, Minnie, ushered the girls into my study and I must admit that my eyes fairly goggled as three of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen walked demurely into my room. Tilly was twenty-one years old, somewhat tall and slender of build with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair that seemed to shine in the bright sunlight that was pouring through the bay windows.

As for Lottie and Eugenie, they were only just eighteen and both were as pretty, nay prettier than the girls whose faces adorn the boxes of expensive confectionery. They had come straight to their lesson from riding in Rotten Row with their boyfriends and were attired in white blouses which well accentuated their firm, well-shaped breasts, and tight riding trousers that moulded the contours of their tight little arses to perfection. Each had the face of an angel and a twinkle in their eyes as they apologised for not changing before coming to see me. I sat in my chair, fighting back an erection that was threatening to push my prick through the thin material of my flannels.

I passed round the syllabus for the first French lesson and caught sight of Tilly's tongue running over her raspberry-red lips, adding a glisten to her sensuous mouth which did nothing to bring down the bulge in my crotch. Then, still reeling, I spied Eugenie's hand slipping up Lottie's smooth thigh, rubbing sinuously up between her legs. Lottie moved her head back slowly, suppressing a sigh of delight whilst her sister's hand gyrated intricately above her crack.

'Excuse me one moment,' I said in a small choking voice, 'I will just check my own books before we start our French lesson.'

The girls giggled and Tilly said: 'Oh, Mr.-, never mind work for the moment. Perhaps you will appreciate another kind of French exercise at which my sisters and I are most proficient. Yes, I am certain you will prefer it to those boring Old books. I know that we do, don't we, girls?'

'Very much so,' chorused the sisters as they joined Tilly in crowding round my chair. The elder girl smiled as she placed her soft hand on my raging hard-on that stood out like a sore thumb between my legs. She rubbed my crotch ever so gently as she turned her head to the twins and winked. I saw the outline of Lottie's nipples rigid under the straining cloth of her blouse as her twin sister caressed her breasts with one hand whilst she rubbed her own pussey with the other.

'You don't object if we call you Henry, do you, Sir?' cooed Eugenie.

I silently nodded my consent and then my attention was distracted as I felt my fly buttons being opened by Tilly's delicate hands and, in a trice, my eight-inch shaft was bared in her grasp. She slid her fingers up and down my truncheon, capping and uncapping my knob until she swooped down and sucked in at least half my eight-inch column into her saliva-filled mouth, lashing my cock with her tongue.

The twins now undressed each other and stood naked in front of me, their proud breasts jutting out defiantly as they moved their hands across to play with each other's auburn-haired pussies. Tilly realised that the sight of these two thrilling young bodies would speed the passage of sperm through my prick. So she alternated her lusty sucking with a nibble on the underside of my cock as she cupped my ballsack in her hand.

'As the eldest, I claim the right of having the first fuck with Henry,' said Tilly calmly, 'I think I would prefer to be taken from behind, if that is alright with you?'

I was only too happy to oblige as the sweet girl tore off her clothes with reckless abandon. Just the sight of her rosebud-tipped breasts was enough to cause some pre-come juice to dribble from the 'eye' of my helmet. Add to that the sight of her gorgeous, undulating bottom cheeks to those golden globes and you may well imagine the frenzy to be found in my loins. I raced over to the delightful girl who was now leaning over the mahogany table, waggling her bum in a most sensuous fashion. Holding my shaft in my hand, I entered her juicy cunney immediately and the warmth and smoothness of her velvet channel sent me into a delirium of delight. An added bonus was that there was a mirror on the wall facing us and it was an unbelievable stimulation to watch myself fucking this beautiful girl.

She squealed in ecstasy as I pumped in and out and she screamed out: 'Yes, yes, yes! More, more! Make me come!' It was easy to oblige and in seconds she was yelling and shaking as I brought her to a full climax as my own explosion burst through my staff, flooding her cunt with hot, creamy froth and she shuddered blissfully as she drained me of every last drop of love juice, as I pumped my fluids into her dark, secret warmth.

Now the twins clamoured for a taste of my cock and as I withdrew my still semi-stiff shaft from their sister's cunney, they handled my cock so cleverly that within a moment or two it was again as hard as steel. The twins dropped to their knees and took turns to suck my throbbing stalk as they played with themselves. This was too much to ask of any man-I just had to fuck them both and I gasped out the instruction that they should both lie down on the carpet with their legs spread wide to receive the gift of my throbbing truncheon.

Then I too dropped to the ground and rolled first onto Lottie, who returned my burning kiss with equal ardour as she took hold of my cock and guided it immediately between her pussey lips. After a few thrusts I leaned back and withdrew my glistening length. After all, how unfair it would be to leave Eugenie out in the cold. The sweet girl was rubbing her cunney in eager anticipation as I leaned over her and let her first kiss and gobble my knob for a few moments before I tit-fucked her, rubbing the crown of my cock on each of her nipples before finally sheathing my ecstatic column into her juicy cunt. I reached over to slide my hand between Lottie's legs and I massaged her pussey as I fucked Eugenie, ramming my cock in and out of her dripping cunney. Shrieks of delight left their breathless mouths and my own thrusts increased in tempo as a second spend fast approached. I flexed myself and with a hoarse cry poured out a luscious flood of creamy sperm into Eugenie's cunney, which like her sister's was already awash with her own juices.

But, Mr. Editor, now I was faced with a problem of how to satisfy poor old Lottie as both her sisters had reached the pinnacle of delight but my cock was in no state for a third game. Hard as the pretty girl tried, rubbing and sucking my limp penis produced no resultant erection.

I kissed the sweet girl passionately on the lips and laid her down on the carpet. Then I draped her long legs over my shoulders and dived down headfirst into her yearning love box. Her pungent pussey was already wet as I lovingly began to eat her, forcing my tongue deeper and deeper into the warm, juicy slit, sliding up and down the crack as I savoured her tangy aroma. Lottie gasped with joy as I probed between her cunney lips and thrust deep, finding her clitty which I rolled and sucked between my lips as she writhed around, rubbing herself off against my mouth. As I let the tip of my tongue dart in and out of her snatch she grabbed my head and pressed my face deep into her minge as she felt the first stirrings of a gigantic spend. Her juices dribbled like honey from her parted labia and her erect little clitty swelled even more as I flicked gently at it with the tip of my tongue. So I moved my hand up to my face and Lottie opened her legs even wider as I frigged her slippery clitty with my thumb. Her body was now jerking up and down which made the affair even more exciting as my face rubbed against her silky red bush. 'A-h-r-e!' she yelled as I worked my tongue around until my jaw ached, but I was rewarded by the lovely young girl achieving a tremendous orgasm, splashing my mouth and nose with her juices as her cunney spurted love juice all over the place until, as it subsided, she gently pushed my face away from her.

Well, the hour of tuition was nearly up and we dressed ourselves quickly, only just finishing in time before Minnie knocked on the door to announce the arrival of young Harry Barr whom I am tutoring for his entrance examinations to Oxford University.

The girls are due back tomorrow for a further French lesson and I will endeavour not to repeat last week's performance but actually instruct the delicious ladies in the French language. Whether I will be able to resist temptation is a matter upon which this pedagogue must ponder. Perhaps you, Mr. Editor, with your vast experience of human behaviour, can advise me.

I, am, Sir, anxiously, ever Your Obedient Servant,

Henry 'X'

Marylebone,

London W.

April 1892

The Editor replies: I see no reason why you cannot teach these delightful girls the intricacies of irregular verbs whilst tickling their titties and playing with their cunnies. There is nothing wrong in combining work and pleasure. Are the girls cognisant of the important French words for pricks, pussies, etc?

I have taken the liberty of showing your letter to Mr. Peter Stockman, the proud possessor of the biggest prick in London, and he assures me that his mighty penis is at your disposal should you need another stiff tool at your disposal during the next French lesson. Indeed, should you require a third, I understand Herr David Zwaig is in town and his continental cock is also available at no cost whatsoever should you require it. Both gentlemen may be contacted through my office.

Sir,

The merry month of May has always been known for its propitious influence over the voluptuous senses. It will give me the greatest of pleasure to share with your readers a little incident of such matter that occurred the day before yesterday when I went to visit my family's country seat in the heart of the Sussex countryside.

The house is a large enough residence, standing in spacious grounds of its own and surrounded by small fields of arable and pasture land, interspersed with numerous interesting copses through which run footpaths and shady walks where one is unlikely to meet anyone in a month of Sundays, even during the summer season.

Sheltered in many of the hollows in the hills you may find a Downland 'dewpond'. These are shallow depressions half-filled with water that may be seen on some of the highest hills of the Sussex range. The curious have often exclaimed on beholding these watering-pans which are well supplied with water yet with no apparent sign as to its source. In even a hot, dry season such as we have at present they very rarely fail the passing shepherd.

So when on a very warm afternoon I decided to cool myself by bathing naked in such a pond, I believed the chances of anyone else being in the area were slim. I had no idea that I was about to meet a rugged blond farmer's boy.

Jeremy was a real Adonis, tall and well-muscled but with the slender grace of a true athlete. I did not hear him approach as I splashed cool water round my dark pubic bush and at first I almost believed that he was part of a heat-induced fantasy. When I realised that he was in fact real, 'I jumped out of the pool and wrapped myself in a bath-towel that I had brought with me.

'I must apologise for disturbing you, Miss Norma,' he said with an engaging smile and not a hint of embarrassment.

'The fault was mine,' I said. 'But how on earth do you know my name?'

'We were introduced at Christmas at your parents' annual party for their tenants,' he replied. 'My father, Martin Lawbress, farms forty acres near Old Payning to the west of your fine mansion, and I had the pleasure of escorting you into the ballroom after dinner. But as I recall, you were suffering from a bad headache and you left the party before the dancing which was a disappointment, may I say, to me and every young man in the hall!'

I laughed. 'How kind of you to say so! I do remember you now, Jeremy Lawbress, and if my memory is correct you are attached to the purchasing office of Count Gewirtz of Galicia in London. I haven't seen the Count for some months now. Is he planning to visit England this year?'

'I doubt it as he has an invitation to spend the autumn in the United States with the President and he will probably go on to visit his Australian sheep farms,' said Jeremy.

'Really,' I said. 'He must be an extremely wealthy man. But is he a generous employer?'

'Oh yes, he is a surprisingly kind gentleman. When he was informed that I had suffered a severe bout of influenza, he telegraphed that I must take a long, fully paid leave at my parents' place in the country out of the poisonous London air, and that I should not return until I had fully recovered.'

Jeremy's handsome face attracted me and I invited the youthful lad to join me for an al fresco luncheon. As we sat there admiring the beauty of the surrounding countryside I could barely keep my mind on our conversation. I have not been involved with a man since last February and it was driving me insane to see this good-looking boy sitting across from me, the sun turning his blond hair into gold, and the smooth muscles rippling under his bronze skin when he took off his shirt to lie in the shimmering heat. I could feel my excitement growing and my love tunnel getting damper all the time.

It was hardly difficult to attract his interest. I shifted position, sitting so that my long legs were in full view and he was afforded just a hint of my pubic bush. This had the desired effect as Jeremy stopped in mid-sentence about the latest acquisition of Count Gewirtz, and had to swallow hard a couple of times before he could continue. His gaze travelled up and down the length of my legs and he now shifted somewhat uncomfortably as I noted with delight a bulge swelling up in his lap.

'It is so warm that I suggest we go in the water for a quick dip,' I suggested shamelessly, throwing off my towel and exposing my nude body to his glowing eyes. I stroked my large breasts suggestively before walking sinuously down to the water's edge and splashing my way in.

'Come on in, it's not cold at all,' I called out as Jeremy hesitated for a moment before shucking off his clothes and following me in. I noticed with satisfaction that he was blessed with a thick penis, already almost erect as he joined me in the pool, which was so small that we could scarcely help but bump into each other. As his hand brushed my hip I moved closer and stroked my fingers through the soft golden hairs on his chest. Jeremy took a deep breath and then decided to take what I was obviously offering to the lusty lad.

His strong arms wrapped themselves around me as our lips came together in a passionate kiss. I squeezed one of his tight little bum cheeks and brought his hips hard against mine. The throb of his rock-hard cock rubbing against my belly afforded me the greatest satisfaction and I was dying to find out what this huge sausage would feel like inside me…

Jeremy began by kissing my neck and shoulders and stroking my breasts until I was moaning and begging him to touch me. We climbed out of the pool and onto our piled-up clothes to continue our love-making. Jeremy sucked and licked my nipples while his magic fingers played around my pussey, before moving down and letting his lips and tongue take over.

I adore having my pussey eaten and Jeremy's cunnilingal technique was quite superb, especially for a relatively inexperienced young fellow. He first knelt between my open legs and deftly parted my wet cunney lips with his fingers. Ah, how I shuddered as he smoothly massaged the inside of my pussey with his tongue, an arousing prelude rarely practised, alas, in this country although our continental cousins are adept at this arousing art. (Afterwards, Jeremy told me that Count Gewirtz himself had coached him in this valuable skill with ladies from Madame D'Arcy's salon in Brighton.) But now he moved from my inner lips to my clitty and began to suck on it very lightly as his hands moved up to my distended nipples which he rubbed in small, precise circles. I always find this produces a delicious sensation that courses throughout my body and already by now I was floating, my orgasm building up inexorably inside me. My love juices were flowing wildly as the tension grew and I could wait no longer to feel his bulging prick inside my raging love channel.

I let my right hand grasp his magnificent cock and, my God, was his penis big and stiff! There must have been at least nine good inches of it, hard as steel and panting with hot lust. Its thickness too was almost extraordinary and I could not fully wrap my hand around the throbbing shaft.

'What a whopper!' I exclaimed with undisguised admiration.

'Thank you, Miss Norma, it is very kind of you to so comment,' he replied modestly as I smoothed my fingers up and down this enormous pole.

At first he just teased me with this wonderful weapon, only inserting an inch at a time until I was crazy with lustful excitement. I rolled him onto his back and took his full length into my sopping crack, sliding up and down on my glistening charger as we thrust hard at each other, our cries of passion echoing around the empty hills until we spent together in a burst of ecstatic glory.

We lay together quietly for a time and then we went back to the pool to wash. To be certain that Jeremy's cock was really clean I began to lick and suck it until it was soon swollen up to full erection, standing stiffly up against his flat belly. This way and that I played with his cock in my mouth, now sucking deep, now licking only the very tip with the softest tongue of velvet. Jeremy sighed his delight, whispering to me how incredibly good my kisses felt and I was getting so turned on that I rubbed my nipples with one hand as I held his twitching tool in the other. Such high peaks of pleasure could not be long contained and all too soon his body tensed and he spurted a fountain of hot, creamy spunk down my throat. Not till his lovely cock had quite shrunk down did I withdraw my lips.

We returned to the bank to dry off and Jeremy finger-fucked me to another orgasm before we finished the afternoon with a final soixante neuf. It was time now to dress and return to our respective homes. Jeremy and I plan to spend further afternoons at the dewpond, but I shall have to journey to Doctor Nettleton's in Cocking for a jar of his famous cunney lotion for my poor pussey will need refreshing if Jeremy's mighty prick again batters her waiting portals.

I trust, Sir, that the loyal devotees of The Oyster will have enjoyed reading this true account of my unashamed lewdness as much as I have taken pleasure in recounting this tale.

Your humble (and happy) scribe,

Norma Radlett

Grove House

Lower Charlton

West Sussex

July, 1893

The Editor replies: Miss Radlett may be interested to hear of Professor Allendale's new idea for the easy insertion of big cocks into tight cunnies. He recommends the placing of the half skin of a peach, turned inside out upon the tip of the man's prick before he begins fucking.

Alternatively, a thorough sucking of the prick usually suffices. Lessons in this exquisite art may be obtained from Lady Margaret T-, Mrs. Tessa P- and any of the inhabitants of a certain well-known house in Great Portland Street. Or again, readers may be safely recommended to purchase a bowl of cold cream from any reputable chemist.

Sir,

Undoubtedly one of the most remarkable evolutions of recent years has been that of the athletic girl. Against a hurricane of protest she has come surely and by deliberate intent into her own until, as the well-known (and aptly named) medical authority Professor Herbert Balls recently declared at a meeting of the Royal Society: 'the girl who has played games and entered into the spirit of games is not only the best made for any man who respects his comfort and happiness but is mentally and physically best suited to acquire a clearer and franker relationship with the opposite sex.'

My own observations upon this matter would seem to bear out the truth of the good doctor's remarks. For since taking up the sport of lawn tennis, my dear lady wife Helene has been a different woman who now is completely forthright about what she expects and enjoys in the bedroom. We have only been wed for six months and until now we have both been somewhat shy in telling each other what we most enjoy in the marriage bed.

Perhaps I should explain that as an Old Nottsgrovian I have always been wary of being too forceful in l'arte de faire l'amour. It was rightly drummed into us by Doctor Simon White, our revered old headmaster, that no girl should ever be asked to do anything against her will. This excellent maxim still holds good, of course, but perhaps I have taken it a little too far and consequently been somewhat inhibited in even questioning whether we have experienced the full range of sexual delights of fucking and sucking and we have never been totally open in admitting our fantasies to each other.

Since Helene has taken up tennis, however, all this has changed. The first barrier we surmounted was the uninhibited use of language to stimulate our love-making. One night last week, after a particularly randy session, I was unable to restrain myself any longer and told my sweet wife how much I loved to fuck her dear little cunt. Rather than be angered by my use of strong language, Helene sighed that she loved my big strong cock above all and could not think of anything nicer in the whole wide world than being fucked by her powerful husband!

This lewd talk sent our blood boiling and during the next few days we hardly spoke of anything else. She would whisper about how she wanted to kiss and suck my hot, throbbing cock whilst I murmured my desire to lick and lap at her warm, wet cunney. Both of us would then hug and grab and grope before settling down into a delightful soixante neuf, my wife gobbling greedily on my helmet whilst I thrust my tongue in and out between her full cunney lips, nipping her erect little clitty playfully with my teeth, and you may well imagine that it took but a little while before my face was drenched in her juices whilst her mouth was filled with my tangy sperm which she swallowed with evident enjoyment.

Last Wednesday night came a real surprise of which I had not the slightest hint. We were lying naked on the bed and Helene was idly fondling my cock, rubbing my shaft up to peak erection and playfully capping and uncapping my knob as she pulled at my foreskin. Then suddenly she exclaimed: 'Harry, I must be totally honest and ask if you will take part in a very special little intimacy that I know will excite us both.'

'What exactly are you thinking of, my love?' I enquired, caressing the insides of her soft thighs.

'I want you to shave my pussey!' she whispered firmly in my ear.

Sir, I could hardly conceal my astonishment at this brazen suggestion! At first I was speechless but then I thought to myself how interesting a shaved mound would be and Helene's wispy dark pubic bush would be easy enough to remove.

'Your wish is my command,' I said with a smile, and within a few minutes I had organised a bowl of hot water, scissors, shaving cream and a safety razor. First, I just clipped her bush but then I spread the cream all over her pubic hair and carefully proceeded to shave the lot away! I shaved around her thick, red outer cunney lips until all that could be seen, clear and true, was her bald pussey. I handed Helene a small mirror and she squealed with delight as she took a good look.

After cleaning her up with a warm washcloth I rubbed a light oil over her now even more voluptuous cunt. By this time we were both feeling extremely randy and my cock stood up like a flagpole as Helene lay down and spread her legs invitingly. I needed no further encouragement and went down on her without pausing. I chewed and lapped at her cunney lips and let my tongue dart between them to find her erect little clitty. After rhythmically circling it with the tip of my tongue, I nibbled and sucked on the dear morsel and indeed she tasted even better than before. She spent passionately over my face before I withdrew and substituted my knob in place of my lips. Helene eagerly thrust up her hips as my cock slid into her sopping crack. She threw her legs over my back and heaved up and down in time with me as we commenced a most excellent fuck. Despite her own libations, her cunt was exquisitely tight, holding me in the sweetest vice imaginable, so much so in fact that I could feel my foreskin being drawn backwards and forwards with every shove.

But her juices were now flowing so freely, oiling her cunney walls so well that my further thrusts were made easier as my trusty tool buried itself within the luscious folds of her shaven slit.

'Harry, Harry!' she yelled. 'Now, my dear husband, fuck me hard! Push in, push in, there's a love. Oooh! How marvellous, how gorgeous, how you make me spend!'

I made one last lunge forward, my balls banging against her bum cheeks as with a hoarse cry of triumph I shot a stream of hot spunk into her pulsating pussey. I wriggled my shaft around inside her as the sperm continued to gush out of my prick in great jets as we writhed around together, enjoying this great fuck to the full.

On Sunday night we discovered a further bedroom delight and I do not believe it to be merely coincidental that it arose after Helene had taken part in a hard-hitting game of tennis with Mrs. Fitzcockie, the Northern Area champion.

Let me note here that neither of us were ignorant of the practice of masturbation but we had not imagined it to be part of our sexual relationship. Last Sunday evening proved how wrong we were!

Often, before and during a fuck, I would bring Helene to orgasm by playing with her clitty. Occasionally, I would bring her hand to play with her pussey but before now she was reluctant to do so. On this night, however, I simply asked her to finger-fuck herself and she took off as one obsessed! Whilst I was inserting my cock in her cunney from behind as she bent over the bed, she reached down and grabbed her clitty and manipulated it superbly. She soon reached a tremendous orgasm moments before I spunked my stream of juice into her cunt from between her bottom cheeks.

Since then she has been doing this whenever I ask her — and occasionally even when I don't — and she even finger-fucked herself in our carriage on the way to Sir Andrew Stuck's literary soiree in Bloomsbury the other evening.

Helene is a most stunning creature and it is a beautiful sight to see her writhing in ecstasy as she masturbates, her shaved pussey arching upwards as she approached her spend, her head thrust back and her tits straining against the thin material of a summer blouse.

Indeed, yesterday afternoon Mr. Colin Ramsay, the well-known photographer, came round to our house to take some portraits of Helene in the nude and she put on a special performance for the great man; and there is one shot (for Mr. Ramsay was so excited that he worked all night to be able to show us some sample proofs early this morning) of Helene, one hand caressing her nipples and the other fingering her cunney, that deserves publication in your esteemed journal.

I must add that after Mr. Ramsay left this morning Helene insisted that I join in the fun and toss myself off in front of her, an idea that had indeed crossed my mind. At first I was hesitant, not having wanked in front of anyone since our circle jerks in the third form at Nottsgrove. However, after swallowing a large whisky and soda, I pulled off my clothes and took my penis in my hand. My initial shyness prevented me from really letting go but then I gradually got into the swing of things and my hand sped faster and faster along my shaft until with a gasp I shot a stream of semen all over Helene's waiting titties and she rubbed in the white juice over her stalky strawberry-coloured nips.

Incidentally, my wife's tennis has much improved too and tomorrow afternoon she is playing in the London and Middlesex Championships at Hendon. Those knowledgeable in the game confidently expect her to reach the final rounds and if Helene plants her drives and volleys with as much grace and enthusiasm as she now shows in her fucking, I do believe that I will soon be the proud husband of an international player. So I have a great deal of which to be thankful to the game of lawn-tennis, which is why I have today donated two thousand pounds to the organisers of women's tennis so that more young ladies will be encouraged to take up this most edifying of all sports.

I believe that all patriotic men should follow my example for in conclusion I quote again from the lecture given by Professor Balls: The husband of an athletic girl may find his friends wondering why he does not sigh for the “foolish little thing” of other days. But in place of the fragile young flower, prone to swoon at every turn, we now have a growing number of well-built young women of amazing cheerfulness and vigour with a grip on life and upon themselves.' And indeed, if I may be so permitted to add, upon their husbands' cocks!

Yours faithfully,

Harry S. Wharton

Watford Lodge

Rondunn Road

Hampstead

London, N.W.

August, 1894

The Editor replies: My sincere congratulations to the gallant gentleman and his lady wife on discovering that all forms of fucking tend towards achieving the acme of felicity.

Captain John Gibson of Edinburgh, who happened to be in my office when your letter arrived, suggests there is a further avenue which you may care to follow, best expressed in the following verse:

There was a young lady of Glasgow,

And fondly her lover did ask: 'Oh,

Pray allow me a fuck,

But she said: 'No, my duck,

Though you may, if you please, up my bum go!'

Sir,

I am happy to share with readers of The Oyster the ecstatic experiences of some fine fucking I was recently privileged to enjoy on a railway journey to Bonnie Scotland.

As a demure (sic) young girl of just nineteen, normally I would have been chaperoned on the night sleeper to Edinburgh. But my mother's companion, Miss Harrow, had turned her ankle quite badly that very morning, after tripping up over Rex, our pet corgi, so to my great joy it was decided that I could travel alone as Cripps the butler would escort me to Kings Cross Station and I would be met at Waverley, Edinburgh by Colonel McGraw's personal carriage.

I was travelling to Edinburgh to attend the coming-out ball of one of my oldest friends, Susey McGraw, in whose company I spent not only my schooldays at St Hilda's Academy in South Devon but also a year at Fraulein Metternich's Finishing School For Young Ladies in Zurich, Switzerland. Susey and I both lost our virginities during the first term at Fraulein Metternich's to the same handsome young mountaineer, Konrad Kochanski, but that is another story which, Mr. Editor, I will relate at a later time if you so desire.

Be that as it may, when I boarded the train five minutes before we were due to depart, the first class lounge was almost empty, and by half past eleven all the other passengers had retired except for two young men who invited me over to their table for a nightcap. This sounds terribly forward but I must hasten to add that Kevin Durie (of the Argyll Duries) was known to most of the best families in London and had been a guest only the previous month at one of my mother's musical evenings where we had been introduced. The older of the two- previously unknown to me-was none other than that infamous man about town Sir Andrew Stuck, whose reputation was of course known to me although I had not had the pleasure of being introduced to the handsome young baronet before this unexpected meeting.

'I did enjoy your mother's concert, Miss Bunter-Dunne,' said Kevin politely, 'I am particularly fond of Mendelsohn's string Octet which I thought the little orchestra played with great brio.'

'Yes, it is a fine piece of music,' I agreed. 'The piece has astonishing instrumental and contrapuntal skill that serves an original conception of delightful freshness. It is quite extraordinary to think that Mendelssohn was only sixteen years old when he composed it.

'Are you fond of music, Sir Andrew?' I asked.

'Not overmuch, to be honest,' he grinned, 'I prefer the theatre to the concert hall and a rousing chorus of a Gilbert and Sullivan show to the boring dirges of many of the so-called classical composers.'

'Not only are you a Sassenach but you are also a barbarian,' grinned Kevin, but we chatted amicably enough, polishing off an alarming proportion of the bottle of malt whisky Kevin had brought with him to while away the journey.

Then the door opened and who should come through but Clare Corisande, another alumni of Fraulein Metternich's establishment (and who had also been deprived of her maidenhood by Konrad Kochanski, by the by) and who was also bound for Edinburgh and Susey McGraw's dance. Her Aunt Maud, who was accompanying her, was fast asleep in the lounge. She knew Sir Andrew very well and I was pleased to introduce her to Mr. Durie. In honour of this pretty girl, whose blonde tresses I had much admired, we finished Kevin's bottle and then prepared to make our way to the sleeping compartments.

But as we rose, Sir Andrew said: 'Tell me, ladies, are either of you familiar with Scottish dress?'

'Not really,' said Clare, indeed, this will be the first time I have been North of the Border.'

'Well, they have some curious customs in Scotland,' grinned Sir Andrew. 'For instance, let me show you a photograph of Kevin here in his kilt at Lord Bourne's ball.'

Clare and I looked at the photograph of Kevin in what appeared to be a tartan petticoat which left his knees naked to the elements.

'Did you waltz in your kilt?' asked Clare mischievously.

'Aye, I did, right enough,' said Kevin. 'And why not?'

'Oh it is just that I would have thought that the whirling motion of dancing would have caused your kilt to fly up and expose your…' and she stopped suddenly and giggled.

'Arse, you were going to say, Clare,' chipped in Sir Andrew gaily. 'Well, what would have been the harm in that? Girls like to get a glimpse at a man's firm bum cheeks sometimes.'

'Andrew, hold your tongue,' scolded Kevin, colouring as we looked again at his photograph.

'I have a far better one taken from the front,' leered the randy baronet, taking another photograph out of his wallet.

'Don't you dare!' panted Kevin, trying without success to grab the offending picture, but Sir Andrew laughed and passed it across to me. My eyes widened as I looked at it for there was Kevin, holding up his kilt to show that nothing was worn underneath that garment. His prick looked of a fair proportion, a thought that crossed Clare's mind as she told me afterwards, and we both noticed how Kevin's heavy balls hung low in their hairy sack.

'Kevin,' said Andrew, 'I do not believe that the girls think the sight of your Caledonian cock is more beautiful than the view of your bottom.'

'Well, that proves that our education has not been neglected,' said Clare boldly. 'For as the catechism puts it: “What is the chief end of man?'”

'My dear girls, we are all quite private here as the guard has gone to his compartment. Would this not be a fine opportunity for you to view the genuine article? Come on, Kevin, be a sport and show the girls your prick in the flesh,' said Sir Andrew. 'Meanwhile, you must excuse me for a minute whilst I answer a call of nature.'

Kevin blushed but I said: 'Now then, don't be shy. Both Clare and I are familiar with the sight of a naked prick. We will give you our honest judgement upon the dimensions and general look of your staff of life.'

'If you insist, then,' he said, unbuttoning his fly and baring his erect cock, 'I am always ready to please the ladies.'

Clare and I inspected his tool and we told him fairly and squarely that it was as big as he had any reason to expect and was well-fitted for all but the most cavernous cunt.

'I would be more than happy to entertain this cock in my cunney,' said Clare, moistening her lips with her tongue.

'So would I,' I agreed and I took hold of Kevin's rock-hard shaft and gave it an encouraging little rub. A few moments later the three of us were in his compartment, all quite naked and kissing and cuddling up together. I found myself on my back with Clare lying on top of me, our tummies and breasts pressed together with her legs stretched out between mine. Kevin moved between her legs and, after he had pulled her up to him, pushed his prick deep into her bum-hole. As he fucked her wrinkled little rosette she moaned and sucked upon my own rosy titties and when he spunked into her arse she almost achieved a climax herself as she grabbed my hands and held them very hard.

Clare then pulled one leg over mine and pushed her thigh up against my cunney. We were both wet with love juice as she began rubbing her lithe body up against me. Kevin moved his head towards my face and we kissed, our tongues inside each other's mouths as Clare continued to rub sensuously against me. He now climbed up on top of us and placed his twitching tool against my lips. I opened my lips to suck in his helmet and I lashed the succulent shaft with my tongue before taking in another three inches of his delicious cock in my mouth.

Meanwhile Clare was now kissing my erect little titties and I could see the shadowy figure of Sir Andrew Stuck in the background, undressing as fast as he could. In a trice, the randy baronet had his cock in his hand and was sliding in beside Clare, guiding his mighty rod towards my waiting cunney lips, which opened as if by magic to enclasp the crown of his thick tool.

All three were now fucking me in perfect rhythm and it was the most exciting sensation I have ever experienced. I came simultaneously both with Sir Andrew who spurted a copious emission of spunk splashing against the walls of my juicy cunt, and Kevin who filled my mouth with his frothy white jism so wonderfully well that I could not gulp it all down and some of the juice ran down my chin.

After a short intermission we paired off and I lay down with Kevin as I had not yet had the pleasure of having his cock in my cunney. We embraced in a kiss of blazing ardour and then his tongue moved downwards from my mouth, circling one nipple and then the other as they hardened under his tongue. I purred with pleasure as I ran my fingers down the length of his shaft, and then delved underneath to tickle his unusually heavy balls.

He must have read my mind for he said softly: They're overflowing with spunk and it's all for you, Fiona,' as he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled my bum up so that my dripping cunney lips were brushing against the tip of his knob. For a few moments he continued to tease my sopping crack as he rubbed his knob all along my slit, but then at last he slid the bulbous mushroom head into my welcoming cunt and began fucking me with long, gentle thrusts.

I could feel his lovely staff getting even larger inside my cunney and he groaned, reaching up to tweak my titties with one hand and fondle my clitty with the other. My juices were now simply seeping out of me as he flicked that little button backwards and forwards as he continued to move his shaft slowly in and out of my pulsating pussey. His hips were thrusting that hard rod further and further up me and the walls of my love channel were opening and closing around it. And then whoosh! with a great shudder he creamed my cunt with a huge flow of hot sperm.

After that I reckoned he would need some time to recover, but as he removed his sticky shaft from my pussey I could see that it was still stiff and would need only a little help to regain all its former glory. I slid down his chest to crouch over his knees, leaving a trail of love juice all the way down to his belly. Whilst his cock was still wet I clamped my lips round it and tasted our combined juices. They were quite deliciously tangy and I could not resist a lusty suck of Kevin's big balls before tonguing his shaft up to its full height and hardness.

I lay back to receive a second shafting from, this majestic prick, but as he inserted his cock as far in as possible so that our pubic hairs matted together, I decided to change positions. Still holding his staff firmly inside me by contracting my cunney muscles, I rolled over on top of him and sat astride his broad chest to ride him in what turned out to be a magnificent St George. I bounced happily up and down, pivoting gracefully on this throbbing column as we spent almost together, our juices mingling in a further flood of mutual jism.

As we lay recovering from our exertions, I glanced over to see that Sir Andrew was being given the full treatment by his delightful partner. He was lying flat on his back whilst the gorgeous girl was holding his erect prick in her hands. She wet her lips and knelt between his long, muscular legs and then took the finely formed crown of his cock between her lips, clamping them around his not inconsiderable shaft, her blonde tresses spreading along his thighs as he jerked his hips upwards to stuff as much of his shaft as he could inside her soft mouth.

But when he tried to establish a rhythm, she lifted her head and giggled. 'No, Andrew, I would rather have your big cock inside me, if you please,' she said, and straddling his body she pushed herself down upon his sturdy truncheon, squeezing his thighs with her knees and riding him like an American rodeo rider, pushing him harder and harder until he spent with a husky groan.

At once, Clare rolled off and propped herself on one elbow, watching Sir Andrew's face as she traced delicate patterns along his limp prick. 'Are you all done so soon?' she teased. 'Let me see if there is any more spunk that I can milk from your lovely cock.' The handsome baronet sighed and said: 'I fear that what you see is all you will get.'

'I think you are capable of better things,' said Clare, and before Sir Andrew could reply she began licking the perspiration from his body — first his chest, then along his arms and legs. Her hands cupped his bum cheeks, probing and massaging and lo and behold his prick began to stir again and with a smug smile Clare said: 'Just one little suck should do the trick.'

She rolled his stiffening white column between the palms of her hands and sucked his helmet into her mouth. Her prognosis was absolutely accurate for it took only a few seconds before she withdrew her lips a second time from his now rock-hard prick and smiling smugly, she knelt on all fours in front of him, thrusting her firm white buttocks into his face. 'Now give me a firm pressing of juice up my bum!'

Nothing loath, Sir Andrew scrambled up to mount her, his left hand prising open a channel between the cheeks of her splendid arse, the other holding his massive blue-veined tool that had risen rigid from its nest of dark curly hair. He forced his knob to the rim of her wrinkled little brown bum-hole and Clare cried out at first as he slowly forced his huge knob inside after wetting it with some spittle. But then her sphincter muscle gradually relaxed as he entered the tightened orifice and she told him to sink in all of his shaft up to the hilt.

Sir Andrew leaned forward to fondle her breasts, his eyes bright with excitement as he pounded his shining, slippery shaft into her lithe young body. His prick rose in and out of its narrow sheath, plunging in and out of the now widened rim, pumping and sucking like the thrust of a steam engine.

'Ah, Clare, what an arse, what warmth, what tightness!' groaned the lucky young rascal, patting her flanks and savouring no doubt the plump rondeurs of her bottom cheeks against his belly. A gentle movement of Clare's hips sufficed to show the pleasure she was evidently sustaining.

'Do not move your cock for a moment! Oh, Andrew Stuck, fuck my bum, you big-cocked boy!'

And with those lewd words, the pretty blonde reached back to spread her cheeks even further, jerking her delicious bum to and fro until, with a tremendous shout which I feared would wake the sleeping passengers, Sir Andrew shot a jet of frothy sperm inside her as they spent together in perfect accord.

He withdrew his still semi-hard prick with an audible little plop and we all lay together in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.

I have always wondered, Mr. Editor, why the male of the species is known as the stronger sex for both Clare and I were ready and willing to continue this sensuous joust, but both Kevin and Sir Andrew were now deep in the arms of Morpheus and we girls were forced to play with each other for the next hour or so-not that I minded too much, for Clare managed to bring me to a truly superb spend. I just about have enough time left to tell you about how she did it…

She began by licking her finger and placing it at the base of my throat. And then slowly, very slowly she traced a line down the middle of my body. She kept licking her finger so that it was always wet as it slid down my body, between my breasts, over my belly and down into the silky dark curls of my pussey hair. Then she insinuated the other between us and manipulated my firm breasts, tweaking my rosy nipples up to a peak of hardness and I gasped and twisted for the caress was even more enervating than I had judged and my aroused globes seemed to swell to her touch.

The tips of our tongues met and then we were exchanging the most burning, the most devouring of kisses as my own arms wrapped themselves around the sweet girl. I gasped again as Clare carefully slid her knuckles around my oily cunney lips and at this first ardent rubbing of my pussey I was on my way to Elysium. My legs parted, enabling her to slip full length upon me. Withdrawing her urging finger, her furry blonde mound now nestled moistly against my own. My whole body tingled as I felt the rubbing of our cunt lips, the tingling merging of our pubic hair as, coiling her arms under my knees and raising and thrusting my legs back, she caused our cunnies to meet and rub fully together. I clasped her shoulders as our bottoms squirmed in mutual delight. Very soon, a violent shuddering racked my body as I achieved an enormous spend and my cunney spattered out its juices all over Clare's blonde bush.

With a sigh, the gorgeous girl rolled off me and I kissed her sweet lips saying that I would now ensure that she too achieved the delight that I had just had the pleasure of experiencing.

How could I best have my way with the beautiful blonde girl who languidly stretched naked before me, purring like a kitten, her legs wide open and her hand playing around the silky hairs of her golden pubic bush?

Without hesitation I rolled on top of her and licked her titties up to a fine state of hardness, letting my eyes feast on her delicious pussey. The blonde hairs were silky and the lips looked oily with the excitement of our previous encounter. Oh, how she wriggled and writhed as I worked my tongue first into the whorl of her navel and then my lips slithered down to her hairy mound until they were directly over her eager quim and I could inhale the unique feminine aroma from the rich cunney juices which were already flowing freely from her. I parted her thighs to ease my head down into a comfortable position and then plunged my pointed tongue back and forth inside her pussey. Clare squirmed under my ministrations, pressing her mound up against my nose and almost threatening to choke me with her hairy muff.

'Oh, Fiona darling, don't stop now!' she pleaded as I paused for breath.

She need not have been concerned as I had no intention of ceasing to suck that delicious cunt. My tongue slid through her smooth passageway and outlined the mound of her erect little clitty which rose up to greet me. I licked and lapped all around it, sending Clare into a delirium of delight as her legs waved this way and that as my tongue continued remorselessly to slurp around it. Then I took the pulsating morsel in my mouth, rolling my tongue around it and nipping it ever so gently with my teeth. She squealed with joy as I continued to work my tongue until she heaved violently, arched her back and then came in a fierce spurting. My hand slipped under her comely bottom and as her love juice flowed out, I worked my forefinger in and out of her bum in a most exciting way.

I continued to suck her cunney until her orgasm finally faded and we lay happily together as the last drains of our juices were released, oiling our thighs as we too now fell into a deep welcoming sleep.

By the time we reached York the boys had woken up again although Sir Andrew was still a little groggy. However, I sucked his balls which had the desired effect and we formed a nice little fucking chain that lasted almost until we passed Tyneside. I lay on my tummy, thrusting my bum cheeks out towards Kevin who fucked my pussey from behind as I gobbled Sir Andrew's thick prick. Meanwhile, Kevin had his hand working in and out of Clare's cunney as she kissed Sir Andrew, whose hands roved along her bosom, his hands squeezing and caressing her jutting young breasts. Clare and I changed over and after she rummaged in her travelling bag for a 'ladies travelling companion', or dildo as the common vernacular has it, we were able to vary our positions.

Perhaps my particular favourite 'wholesome foursome' was fucking Clare's lovely bottom with the dildo as she sucked away on Kevin's smooth shaft whilst the dear lad was lapping at my pussey. At the same time I used my other hand to toss off Sir Andrew as he tongued Clare's cunney in rhythm with her bottom fuck afforded by my thrusting of the dildo (which was bound in soft leather) in and out of her arse.

As you may imagine, we were all quite exhausted by the time we reached Edinburgh, but it did not stop us enjoying a grand holiday in the Athens of the North. Susey McGraw's dance was a great success and she has just sent me a photograph from the Scottish Tatler which shows me in conversation with her cousin, Jack Webster of Aberdeen, a most good-looking young man whose cock was to enter my love channel some three hours after the photograph in question was taken!

Alas, tempus fugit, Mr. Editor, and I must now close for I am already late for my appointment with Monsieur Josef, the new French hairdresser in Bond Street much favoured by Society since Princess Alexandra became a regular patron earlier this year.

However, I must not forget to add a footnote from dear Clare-she is presently spending the summer in Italy with her Papa and Mama at Lord Horn's villa and would be grateful to hear from any gentleman of good family between twenty and thirty-five who might be visiting that country from now until September. She may be contacted by telephone (Florence 1189) or by post at Via Cavour 69, Florence, Italy.

Yours in haste,

Fiona Bunter-Dunne

21 Belgrave Square

London S.W.

June, 1894

The Editor replies: A splendid letter, Fiona, and reading your adventure sent my pego standing stiffly to attention. Fortunately, Miss Reddie, my faithful secretary was on hand to suck me off or I would have been forced to indulge in a five knuckle shuffle.

Do accept, with my compliments, the gift of a magnum of champagne and feel free to come round to my office at any time. And do give the young rogue Sir Andrew Stuck my kindest regards when next you see that randy baronet.

Sir,

After our final examinations at trinity College, Cambridge this summer, members of the Epicurean Society at this august seat of scholarship decided to hold a ball-and I was lucky enough to find a girl who was prepared to take this invitation literally!

There must have been some forty of us crammed into the supper rooms at Mr. Burbeck's famous hotel (and there being only ten or so girls from the neighbouring college for schoolteachers, I was hardly optimistic about the chance of a kiss let alone a fuck). Anyway, our senior tutor Dr Tagholm began the proceedings with a spirited rendition of an old Sussex drinking ditty sung at harvest suppers in that rustic county. It goes like this:

'The miller's old dog

Lay on the mill floor,

And Bango was his name, O!

B-A and N-G-O

And Bango was his name, O!'

Then he instructed us on how the company should join in. Now the method of singing this song was as follows: the leader would sing the verse, repeating the fourth line thrice and then turning to his right-hand neighbour, would say 'B', the next man would say 'A', the third 'N' the fourth 'G' and the fifth 'O' whereupon we all had to roar out the chorus — but if any singer missed his proper letter he had to drink a glass of champagne-hardly an onerous forfeit!

Well, an inexperienced group such as ours made quite a few mistakes and within a short space of time we were all very merry indeed! To cut a long story short, after half an hour or so I got up and answered a call of nature. As I washed my hands, however, I noticed in the mirror that the door was open and leaning against the wall in the hallway was a perky little blonde girl whom I had noticed sitting with her friends in front of me. I smiled at her as I came out and we exchanged some small talk and later our forenames.

'I was looking for the ladies' room but I fear that I have been misdirected,' she said, a delicious dimple appearing on her right cheek as she smiled.

'It is just down here on the left,' I said, motioning the way with my arm. 'I will wait here and escort you back when you have finished.'

'Thank you, Clive, how nice of you,' she said and, well, again, to be brief, when she returned we agreed that it was too noisy a party for our liking and she accepted my suggestion to see my rooms which were only over the way in my college.

It was easy to smuggle her past the doorkeeper and once in my room Lizzie herself closed the door and locked it. As soon as I turned round this little vixen was all over me. 'Ah, you dear boy, I fancy you,' she whispered in my ear as she grabbed my bum and pulled me towards her. 'It is the champagne which always has this effect on me.'

'Gosh, Lizzie,' I stammered as her finger stole round to rub against my swelling penis. 'Does this mean you want, to, um, I mean, would you like to, er-'

'Oh very well, you persuasive young man,' she laughed. 'You've talked me into letting you fuck me.'

With those words she stuck her tongue in my mouth and, showing commendable dexterity, unbuttoned my fly to release my erect prick which was straining against the confines of my trousers. She pulled me down upon the bed and took as much of my cock in her mouth as she could, stroking my staff with one hand and teasing my testicles with the other. Somehow we managed to strip off all our clothes and we rolled over as she spread her creamy thighs. I buried my lips in her buttery bush and as I licked her, I ran my thumb into her cunney and this drove her absolutely wild. She grabbed my hair and pushed my head back into her curly motte. 'Eat me!' she commanded and a few moments later her cunney was grinding down on me as her juices soaked my face.

By now my balls were aching and I needed to spend. Lizzie anointed my thick young flagpole with her wonderfully wet tongue and then climbed aboard for a ride. Guiding my cock into her cunt, she leaned over so that her big, stalky red nipples brushed my chest. I have a mirror on the wall opposite my bed and it was unbelievably erotic watching us fuck. All too quickly I spurted a huge flood of spunk inside her as she bucked to and fro on my sturdy pole, reaching, as the first jets of spunk hit her cunney walls, a truly shattering orgasm.

My cock was still hard so Lizzie took hold of my wiggling prick Which was sticking high in the air and rubbed my knob in the vale between her large titties with their deep red nipples. Then, kneeling before me, she slung my legs over her shoulders and taking my stalk in her hands, began to tongue my hairy ballsack. Then she moved up to embrace my knob with her lips. She opened her mouth and sucked in my shaft until it touched her throat. Oh, how I loved being sucked off! Up and down, up and down bobbed her head, until, with a low growl, she changed the steady movements into an erotic circling pattern until I could stand it no longer. I bent forward until I was almost doubled-up and shouted: 'I'm going to shoot, Lizzie! Do you want it in your mouth or in your cunt?'

She pushed me back and before I could spend, she sprung back and laid herself on the bed, encouraging me to throw myself Upon her in the most ardent terms. She threw her legs over my back and we commenced a short sharp bout of the most enjoyable fucking. The muscles of her cunney tightened gloriously around my shaft as, with a gigantic whoosh, the white froth burst out from me, hot and seething, into her eager nook. Gush after gush spurted uncontrollably deep inside her as Lizzie happily screamed out that her own climax was upon her and our cum juices mingled as we came together in a glorious mutual spend.

We could both have wished to continue but, alas, Lizzie had promised to rejoin her friends on the charabanc back to their hall of learning. But we have arranged to see each other again during the summer. She lives eighty or so miles from my home but it is a journey I would happily make by foot if necessary for another hour with Lizzie, an honours graduate in l'arte de faire l'amour.

I have the honour to be, Sir, Your Humble Servant,

Clive Kiniston-Jones

Belsize House

The Grove

Norwich

June, 1890

The Editor replies: You do not say whether the young lady has completed her studies. If she has not and requires employment during the long summer vacation, do not hesitate to pass my address to her.