The Oyster Volume VI

CHAPTER ONE. On The Town

'Never look back for the best is yet to come' is, by and large, a sensible philosophy to which I have adhered since my schooldays. Mind, I doubt if I would be able to continue to live by that maxim if I ever contracted such an unfortunate condition as my poor Uncle Bertram who, since his prick began playing him up last year, needs Aunt Rosina to stick a dildo up his arse in order to stiffen the most important muscle in his body.

However, whatever the future may hold, I shall always be able to look back fondly upon the lascivious memories of my boisterous youth, especially those of such vintage months as the autumn of 1906. It is my ardent wish that readers will find much to amuse and excite them in my candid reminiscences of those occasionally riotous times.

As it happened, that particular season of mists and mellow fruitfulness began in difficult circumstances. My dear father-Sir Radleigh Wellington Scott, Bt, O.B.E.-wanted me to take more than a passing interest in the business affairs of our sizeable country estate in Hampshire and it needed all my powers of persuasion to make him agree that I should first live in London for a spell with my chum, Teddy Carmichael.

'I know what the pair of you have in mind, my lad,' he snorted as he rose from behind his desk and glared at me. 'So let me make it crystal clear that I have no intention of allowing you to join that crowd of idle young fellows who take morning rides down Rotten Row and spend lazy afternoons at their clubs before going out to parties, theatres and what-have-you.'

I was sorely tempted to remark that I was far more interested in the what-have-you than anything else, but wisely I kept my counsel and let my father vent his feelings upon the matter. In any case, I was not totally displeased when Papa informed me that he would agree to my leaving the family home in deepest Surrey for what he termed 'The Fleshpots of the Metropolis' on the understanding that I would take up part-time employment as an editorial consultant at the old-established publishing house of Hartfield and Moser in Bloomsbury.

He growled: 'The company is owned by Lord Neumann, an old friend of your mother's family. Not that Freddie actually does anything except attend the annual directors' meeting, of course, but naturally his word is law. So you'll report to Mr. Geoffrey MacArthur, the managing editor, within a week of your arrival in London or I'll withdraw your allowance.' Nevertheless, I was happy enough to promise my compliance with this condition although as I suspected, Mr. MacArthur was hardly brimming with enthusiasm at this idea. However, we rapidly reached a most satisfactory understanding about my duties, the most important feature of which was that I was not expected to put in a daily appearance at Hartfield and Moser's offices in Bedford Square. But I did agree to keep an appointment with MacArthur's secretary every Thursday morning at eleven o'clock to pick up a bundle of unsolicited manuscripts sent in to the firm by hopeful budding authors.

'Like our fellow publishers, we call it the “slush” pile,' explained Mr. MacArthur. 'Perhaps this is because it usually consists of revoltingly sentimental novels written by genteel maiden ladies living in places like Chichester, Frinton-on-Sea or Tewkesbury.

'Still, as it is just within the bounds of possibility that a new Ouida or George Eliot may be lurking in the dross of the “slush” pile, all these stories have to be read. So I'm giving you this responsible job, Andrew. You might as well take the scripts home to read and the following week you can return those you have ploughed through to my secretary who will then send them back to their authors with a rejection slip.'

'Suppose I do come across anything which actually does have some literary merit?' I asked. He grunted: 'That would be extremely unlikely, but by all means let Miss Caughey know if you do find anything genuinely readable.'

This arrangement suited both of us down to the ground and although by late September I had not found a single decent manuscript to show to him, Mr. MacArthur nevertheless invited me to a slap-up dinner at the Savoy Hotel to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of Hartfield and Moser Ltd.

Perhaps it was an over-indulgence when the excellent vintage port was passed round the table, but I didn't wake up until slightly after quarter past eight the following morning. On most days this would have been of little consequence, but today I was due to meet Lord Philip Pelham at half past ten and take a spin out of town in his new motor car with two young ladies from the chorus line of Hold Your Hand Out, Naughty Boy, the latest musical show at the Empire, Leicester Square.

So on the count of three I leaped out of bed to welcome the rays of bright sunshine which were shining through the bedroom curtains. I drew them back before divesting myself of my nightshirt to stand stark naked in front of the window which I opened-only to hear a shocked giggle floating up from our small back garden.

Alas, I had forgotten that at this time young Sally, our daily domestic, might be hanging up the washing. As luck would have it, I looked down at the buxom girl just as she glanced up in my direction with a saucy smile on her face and my best shirt draped over her arm. But the grandstand view of my nude torso did not appear to bother Sally overmuch, even though my cock was standing up stiffly against my tummy (for in these youthful days I invariably woke up with a tremendous hard-on).

Nevertheless, I hastily moved away from the window, although not before my cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment when Sally called out: it's all right, Mister Andrew. Believe me, I've seen more than that on a Saturday night after a good party.'

Oh well, I said to myself as I padded across to my en suite bathroom and switched on the hot water tap, at least this accidental exposure of my prick to feminine eyes would thankfully not lead to such an unpleasant experience as had recently been suffered by my house-mate, Teddy Carmichael.

True, my closest chum had only himself to blame for his misfortune since no one else had suggested that, after a convivial evening at the Jim Jam Club, he should be so foolish as to unbutton his trousers and relieve himself against a lamp-post. Anyhow, the long and short of it was that Teddy was charged with being drunk and indecent. After an uncomfortable night in the cells at Vine Street, he was hauled up at the police court and fined five pounds.

I chuckled as I recalled Teddy's gloomy observation that being a fiver out of pocket was bad enough but that the magistrate who had inflicted this monstrous sentence to the accompaniment of some very offensive remarks was none other than his godfather. This worthy would doubtless be writing to Teddy's parents before poor Teddy could dream up an excuse for his peccadillo.

With a savage scowl on his face, my pal had added: 'To add insult to injury, less than a week later there was an announcement in the Evening News that the old bugger was about to retire from the bench. I happen to know that my beloved godfather has a nice pot of money in the bank as well as a country seat and a thousand acres down in Devon. I'm telling you, Andrew, I wouldn't be surprised if the old swine stuck to some of the fines. Let's face it, five quid here, five quid there-you can see for yourself how it would mount up over a period of time.'

In honour of my forthcoming tryst with Lord Philip Pelham and the two chorus girls, I lathered my face with Roger amp; Gallet Heliotrope Shaving Cream and carefully scraped away the facial hair from my top lip with my new Wilkinson's Safety Razor Even though moustaches are again coming back into fashion, both Teddy Carmichael and myself prefer to keep a clean shaven face. On the other hand, Phil Pelham insists that girls enjoy the feel of his 'tache against the lips of their cunnies when he takes part in his favourite sport of muff-diving.

The bath was now ready and I was about to step into the warm water when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. 'Just a moment,' I shouted out as I slipped on my dressing gown and rushed out of the bathroom to discover who wanted to speak to me. To my astonishment, my unexpected guest turned out to be none other than the pert little maid who had been out in the garden a few minutes ago.

'Hello, Sally, what can I do for you?' I gulped, feeling my cheeks colour up again. She giggled: 'Well, sir, please don't think me too forward but I was so shocked to see you standing at the window in the altogether that I've come over all hot and bothered and wondered if you would let me have a bath in your tub. The hot-water tank's full but it'll need at least two hours to heat up again so I'll need to use your bathwater after you've finished with it.'

I looked at her blankly and Sally patiently repeated her request which in the circumstances I felt unable to refuse. Two charming dimples appeared on either side of the pretty girl's rich red lips when she smiled her thanks and followed me into the bathroom.

'You can sit on my bed and read the magazine on the side table,' I said to her, but the little vixen twinkled: 'Oh, if you like, Mister Andrew, but I think I have a far better idea. My friend Ellen works at Mrs. Shackleton's Salon in Wardour Street and she says her clients really enjoy a Continental-style assisted bath. Let me give you one- Ellen's told me what I have to do and I think we would both enjoy the experience.'

'An assisted bath, eh?' I queried in all innocence. 'But isn't this a service for elderly sufferers from rheumatic complaints who find it too difficult to stand up and sit down by themselves?'

'Oh no, sir, it's nothing like that,' she answered with a broad smile. 'What happens is that I soap you down and sponge off the suds before drying you off with a nice warm towel. Then you lie down and I give you a very special massage.'

'H'm, I must say that all sounds very nice, but why are you unbuttoning your blouse?' I asked her. Sally replied. 'Well, I have to undress, Mister Andrew, or my clothes will get soaking wet.'

She shrugged off her blouse and not surprisingly my cock began to thicken at the sight of the firm swell of her creamy breasts and I could also see the dark outline of her nipples thrusting against the fine white cotton of her chemise.

But this was just a foretaste of what was to come. I drew a sharp intake of breath when Sally unhooked her skirt which fell to the ground. She fleetingly exposed her luscious backside when she turned and lifted the chemise to her hips in order to yank down her knickers which she rolled down to her feet.

The frisky miss swiftly wriggled the flimsy garment off as she turned round again. Not surprisingly I found it quite impossible to avert my eyes from either her heaving breasts or the dark patch of hair I could make out between her exquisitely formed thighs before she lowered her chemise.

'Come on, sir, get into the bath and I can start work,' she said briskly. So I slipped off my dressing gown and stepped into the bath. I was about to kneel down in the tub when to my astonishment Sally took hold of her chemise again, lifting it high over her head before she threw it gracefully behind her. I watched it flutter to the floor as she joined me in the tub, standing in front of me with a sensual smile on her face. Naturally my shaft shot up to its full height, twitching wildly against my tummy as I drank in the thrilling naked charms of Sally's supple young body.

Her bare breasts jiggled delightfully as she rubbed a bar of soap over the honeycombed natural sponge. Her red-berried nipples jutted out proudly towards me as she smoothed the soapy sponge over my torso, dropping the cleansing item into the water after brushing it across the pit of my stomach.

Then she squeezed my stiffie, sliding her fist up and down the rock-hard shaft as she murmured: 'My, aren't you a big boy, Mister Andrew. Your prick must be near enough two inches longer than my boyfriend's and it's much thicker too.'

'Thank you very much,' I said modestly. 'But as I always say to any envious chaps in the dressing room after a game of footer, dimensions don't matter, it's how you use your equipment that counts.'

'That's true enough,' agreed Sally, cupping my balls in her hand and jiggling them up and down in her grasp. 'Still, I must admit that a nice big cock like yours does make me feel very naughty.'

Without further ado she went down on her knees and planted a slurping wet kiss on my knob. Then she washed me all over and, after soaping herself down with the sponge, we rinsed off the water and towelled ourselves dry. We used two of the set of luxuriously soft blanket towels I had purchased from the Army and Navy Stores, an admitted extravagance at 19/2'/4d but I do enjoy wrapping myself up in a large towel after a bath or shower.

When we had finished, I was about to shake a little Johnson's Powder over my body when Sally said hastily: 'No, no, don't do that, Andrew, come into the bedroom with me.'

I had no objection to this request although, quite frankly, I had no choice but to obey her command. For, gripping my erect tool tightly in her hand, Sally pulled me out of the bathroom before instructing me to lie down on my bed. Nothing loath, I lay on my back with my head on the pillow. I discovered instantly why Sally had not wanted me to dust my body with talcum for the feisty vixen now knelt down beside me and began to lick my toes. This was the first time any girl had done this to me and the sensation was truly incredible! Sally worked her way slowly up my legs, twirling her teasing tongue along my thighs until she reached my groin. She glanced upwards and gave me a wide, voluptuous smile as she brought my uncapped ruby helmet to her waiting lips.

I let out a hoarse groan as this ravishing naked creature proceeded to give me a most delightful sucking-off, beginning by tracing hot wet kisses all over my cock and balls, pushing me to the very edge of a spend. Then she swirled her magic tongue around my knob, savouring its firm texture as she sucked me in between her luscious lips, gobbling my shaft from top to base and back again, sending almost unbearable waves of pleasure coursing throughout my entire body. Every time Sally sensed I was on the verge of a cum, she would take my cock out of her mouth for a moment or two to prolong our mutual pleasure which was reaching ever higher peaks of ecstatic delight.

Sally's cheeks bulged as she virtually devoured my cock, sucking my shaft with gusto whilst Iran my hands through her shiny brown hair. All too soon I felt the seed boiling up in my balls (though I would have defied even noted connoisseurs of l'arte de faire l'amour such as Lord Dunn of Stamford Bridge or Sir Robert Bladen to have lasted any longer) and I filled her eager mouth with spurt after spurt of salty spunk which she gulped down with relish, licking her lips as she milked my prick of every last drop of my copious emission.

'Now will you be kind enough to return the compliment, Mister Andrew?' breathed Sally as she swung herself over me and squatted on my face with her hairy quim pressing down upon my face.

'By all means, you dear girl, one good turn deserves another,' I murmured, kissing her pussey before taking her protruding clitty between my lips and sucking on it for all I was worth.

'Oooh, that feels so good,' Sally groaned as I lapped up the jaunty lass's love juice which was dribbling out of her juicy quim. She clamped her thighs around my head and squealed with delight when I began to finger-fuck her sopping slit with my thumb, her lusty moans growing louder and louder until her pussey walls spasmed around my thumb and a spray of spend came shooting out of her cunt as if from the nozzle of a hose.

Then Sally reached back with her hand and raised her eyebrows when she discovered that my sturdy shaft had fully recovered and was again standing as stiff as a poker. 'My word, you are a randy lad, aren't you?' she said with an appreciative little chuckle.

'Well, waste not, want not,' she went on and hauled herself backwards until she was sitting on my thighs and my throbbing tool was pushing against her slick, wet crack. I took her jutting breasts in my hands, lifting the firm globes and marvelling at their lightness whilst I rubbed the pointed tawny nipples between my fingers. Sally lifted herself slightly, taking hold of my straining shaft and pushing herself down upon it, her slippery cunt effortlessly stretching to accommodate its rampant fleshy visitor.

'H-a-r-g-h! H-a-r-g-h! H-a-r-g-h!' gasped my feisty partner as she rocked upon my cock which was buried to the hilt inside her. I soon caught the insatiable girl's rhythm, lifting her up and pulling her down as she threw back her head and hunched her dripping cunney up and down the length of my twitching love truncheon.

Oh, how we both enjoyed this magnificent ride, for my big cock filled Sally's narrow sheath to the full and she squeezed the muscles of her cunt so expertly around my tool that I was swiftly transported to the seventh heaven of delight. We spent simultaneously shortly after she began moving her hips even faster, her delicious cunney gripping and releasing my cock so exquisitely that a gush of frothy white spunk soon shot up into the furthest recesses of her sticky honeypot, flooding her snatch and trickling down in tiny rivulets onto her thighs.

We fell back exhausted onto the bed in a tangled flurry of limbs. Perhaps it was just as well that Sally had several urgent domestic duties to perform before Mrs. Pelgram, our cook-housekeeper, arrived to prepare our meals because, given half a chance, I would rather have waited for my cock to recover from its delicious exercise and fucked Sally once more than been on time for my appointment with Lord Philip Pelham.

However, the opportunity to choose between these alternatives did not arise for after a minute or two Sally swung her shapely legs over the side of the bed and padded into the bathroom to pick up her clothes. I followed her and was greatly tempted to slide my thickening todger between her beautifully rounded bum cheeks when she bent down to pick up her knickers. But I managed to resist this ungentlemanly urge and instead towelled the perspiration from my face as it occurred to me that my flatmate was spending a week in Paris with his Uncle Gerald and that I had the maisonette to myself. So I asked Sally whether she would like to return to the house this evening for a light supper and some further frolics.

'Mister Teddy won't be back from his trip to Paris till tomorrow afternoon and I'll tell Mrs. Pelgram that she can leave after she has prepared a nice cold collation for us,' I said. But she shook her head and replied: 'Not tonight I can't, sir, because my boyfriend promised to take me to the first house at the Tivoli and actually I'm really looking forward to it because Harry Tate's top of the bill and he always makes me laugh.

'But I can be here half an hour earlier tomorrow morning, if that would be convenient,' she said with a wink which caused the cloud of disappointment to disappear from my face. I returned the wink and remarked that this was a splendid idea.

When Sally had finished dressing herself she hurried out to prepare my breakfast and fifteen minutes later when I strolled into the dining room I was greeted by the appetizing aroma of frying bacon. 'Two eggs enough for you, Mister Andrew?' called out Sally. I replied in the affirmative as I poured out a cup of tea from the silver pot which she had placed on a tiny spirit lamp on the sideboard and helped myself to a slice of toast from the rack on the table.

I scanned through the headlines in the Daily Chronicle, then picked up the clutch of letters by my plate and put aside unopened the bills from local tradesmen which would be settled at the end of the month. But I slit open the envelope with an Irish postmark for I rightly surmised that this contained a letter from Lady 'Madcap Molly' Southard, the outrageous daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Hampshire who had told me that she was spending a few weeks with her relations in Killarney. Molly was a close acquaintance of both Teddy and myself, although I hasten to state that neither of us had made love to the extremely pretty girl. In fact, I doubt if any man had ever graced Molly's bed for her sapphic propensities were well-known to all the young blades in London.

Be that as it may, Molly was a great correspondent-as one of her three brothers wittily wrote back to her in Tennysonian parody:

Such newsy letters you send each week

To Mother, Clive and Trevor

At fifteen sheets most ladies end,

But you go on for ever!

Nevertheless, it was always a pleasure to receive one of Molly's multi-page missives and after I had tucked in to my plate of bacon and eggs I poured myself another cup of tea and sat back to peruse Molly's uninhibited letter, which began innocently enough by praising the beauties of the countryside around Killarney. She continued as follows:

I suppose the principal charm of the place lies in its magical variety. There is no monotonous perfection but an ever-changing fascination which every mist that sleeps on its waters, every ray that glances on its mountain tops, every season that clothes its woods in different garb, exhibits under a fresh aspect of loveliness, imbued afresh with a thousand prismatic colours.

My principal companion has been my second cousin Geraldine, a shapely nineteen-year-old blonde girl with whom I had only corresponded and had never actually met before this trip. I fell in love with her from the first, for what a lovely girl she was, with soft honey-blonde hair that shone like gold, large melting eyes of the lightest blue and cheeks tinted with the softest brush of the rose. Within only hours of seeing Gerry (as she preferred to be called) I knew I had to fuck this gorgeous girl or go out of my mind frigging myself every night as I lay in bed thinking of her.

Luckily, I soon discovered that my pretty young cousin and I shared the same sexual propensities. My chance came after a picnic tea one afternoon on my Uncle Clarence's estate. The weather was exceptionally warm and Gerry and I decided to cool ourselves off by bathing in a pool which was hidden from general view by a surrounding clump of beech trees.

'It's far more fun swimming in the nude, don't you think?' I observed as I unbuttoned my dress whilst I watched Gerry pull her chemise over her head to reveal her lithe, supple figure. Her breasts were small but perfectly rounded with large dark red areolae in the middle of which were placed delicious berry-like nipples which I longed to tweak between my fingers.

'Oh yes, I just love the feel of the rays of warm sunshine on my body,' Gerry replied and a wave of desire swept through my entire body when she rolled down her silk knickers to reveal a golden thatch of fluffy pussey hair between her slender thighs.

I quickly finished undressing. Hand in hand we waded into the pool and playfully splashed each other with the cool, clear water. We had not brought any towels so when we came out of the water we spread the tablecloth which we had used for our picnic on a patch of grass and laid ourselves down on it to dry off in the sun. I confess that it took all my willpower to stop myself from throwing my arms around the dear girl there and then.

The opportunity to find out whether she had any similar desires came when I recalled that I had brought a small pot of Professor Pethick's Skin Care cream with me. I reached over for my handbag and brought it out as I said: 'Gerry, we should rub some of this stuff on us to protect ourselves from the sun. If you'll slide over onto your tummy I'll rub some on your back and then perhaps you would do the same for me.'

The sweet girl thanked me as she obediently turned herself over to lie on her front and I smoothed the cream onto the upper parts of her back with my fingertips. Then I looked down at her dimpled peaches of her bum cheeks and said huskily: 'Now I'd better put some on your botty. It's all white and will burn if you're not careful.'

My pussey was already damp when I massaged Gerry's beautiful bottom and my heart began to pound when, without my asking, she moved her legs slightly apart to enable my fingertips to dip between her thighs and lightly graze the edge of her pussey bush. However, I made no attempt to proceed further and gnawing my lower lip in frustration I merely gulped: 'Good girl, now turn over and I'll finish you off.

She swung herself round to lie on her back and I smeared the cream on her breasts, lightly cupping the gorgeous globes as I said with a smile: 'Well, we mustn't let these pretties become red and sore.'

Frankly, I was soon carried away as I began kneading her superb bosoms and finding it impossible to contain myself any longer, I shamelessly let my fingers stray Over her hardening nipples. To my immense relief, Gerry did not push my hand away but sensually wriggled her body and whispered: 'You may kiss them if you like, Molly.'

I needed no further invitation and a tiny whimper escaped from Gerry's lips as my lips fastened on one of her rubbery nipples whilst I rolled the other between the fingers of my right hand. I sucked greedily on the stiffening nipple whilst my hand dropped down until my fingers were entangled in the delicate fluffy hair which lightly covered the swell of her mound. My finger gently probed lower until it lightly grazed the lips of her pussey and now Gerry gasped and pulled me on top of her, seizing my hand in her own as she guided two of my fingers into her sticky wetness.

With mounting excitement I finger-fucked the delicious girl and Gerry had no qualms about making my hand the instrument of her pleasure, rubbing her clitty against it until it protruded beyond her outer cunney lips. I squeezed the fleshy love button between my fingers and she drove me on with increasing urgency as I frigged her faster and faster.

Then I dropped my head downwards, fastening my lips onto Gerry's dripping love funnel as my tongue flicked inside her cunt. I sucked in her tangy love juice whilst she jerked up and down in a frenzy of salacious excitement. I varied the cuntal stimulation by opening her velvety folds and stroking her twitching clitty which sent fresh tremors of ecstasy coursing through her body from the epicentre of pleasure between her legs.

'Have you come, darling?' I enquired, lifting my mouth from her sopping slit when Gerry screamed out her pleasure. Her blissful sigh was answer enough and so I now rolled over on my back, my thighs spread wide and my legs raised as I massaged my own auburn-haired pussey, my left hand moving rapidly over my already swollen clitty and two fingers of my right hand working in and out of my cunt from which trickles of love juice were already dribbling down my thighs.

'Wait for me!' cried Gerry, throwing herself on top of me. Taking my face in her hands, she pressed her lips against mine. We exchanged a fiery open-mouthed kiss, our tongues waggling in each other's mouths until Gerry withdrew to slide her mouth downwards, breaking her journey first to one nipple and then the other before slipping down my trembling belly to my thick brown bush.

'Ahhh, that's so lovely,' I murmured as my delectable cousin carefully moistened my inner thighs and then teased the tip of her tongue along the length of my tingling love slit before gently inserting two of her long fingers between my pouting pussey lips. She brought me off quite beautifully with her thumb and fingers pressed together, stroking, circling and then plunging in and out of my clinging quim. I writhed from side to side in the most delicious agony as Gerry slurped the cuntal juice which was now freely flowing out of my hairy snatch as I shuddered my way to a wonderful orgasm.

'You clever darling, you've made me spend,' I panted as I fought to regain my breath. 'Can you feel my juices running over your face?'

'Oh, I think you can cum again,' she muttered. I fairly screamed with delight as the impudent girl slipped her hand underneath me and frigged my arsehole with the tip of her little finger as she continued to lick and lap inside my dripping honeypot, flicking her tongue around my erect clitty.

In no time at all, I did indeed climax again in a mad frenzy of passion as she pressed her mouth up to my soaking slit, working her tongue deeper and deeper as a second copious flow of cum gushed over her nose and lips.

Our surging desires were still not fully satisfied for we were still at that joyful early stage in a physical relationship when we still had to find out the particular likes and dislikes of the new partner. Fortunately, our tastes were very similar and I immediately nodded my agreement when Gerry suggested a naughty and novel love-play which she said she adored. After the usual foreplay of kissing and cuddling whilst we pinched each other's titties, she rolled on top of me and, parting my pussey lips with her fingers, Gerry directed her erect clitty into my open cunt. Without separating for a moment, our bodies writhed from side to side, swimming in a veritable sea of lubricity as we spent within seconds of each other, feeling the force of our orgasms rushing through our bodies.

We threw ourselves back on the tablecloth which was now much stained with the evidence of our naughtiness. Suddenly Gerry sat up and cocked her head as she said quietly: 'Molly, I could swear I heard footsteps coming from near that big tree in front of us.'

I struggled into a sitting position. I replied that she must have been mistaken for all I could hear was the faint sound of birdsong from some distance away.

'No, I'll bet you a thousand pounds that there's someone watching us from behind that old oak,' she insisted. Scrambling to her feet she darted towards the gnarled trunk and shouted out triumphantly: 'I can see you, young man! Come out here and show yourself!'

With some reluctance, a boy slowly moved out from behind the tree. Being slightly short-sighted, I peered across to see for myself who had been spying on us whilst Gerry ran towards the culprit and, grabbing him by the arm, marched him towards me.

Gerry called out that she knew the identity of this youthful Peeping Tom who was dressed only in a white running vest and a pair of brief athletic shorts. 'Molly, this young fellow is Master Christopher Lewis-Tucker. He's the youngest son of Major Fortescue Lewis-Tucker who happens to be the Mayor of Killarney.'

She turned to the good-looking youth who was tall and well-made for his age and went on: 'What do you think your father would say if he found out what you had been up to, young man?'

Poor Christopher was rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move as a crimson blush of shame spread over his cheeks as he stood with his head hung down on his chest. I could not but feel somewhat sorry for him for it seemed to me that he was embarrassed rather than excited by the sight of two naked girls.

'Well then, what do you have to say for yourself, h'm? 'Gerry demanded. With obvious effort he replied in a shy, apprehensive voice that he had had no idea of our presence when he had decided to take a few minutes' rest whilst running through the woods in preparation for the cross-country race which would be taking place locally on the coming Saturday afternoon.

'Please don't report me to my father or I'll be in terrible hot water because I'm supposed to be swotting for a geography exam next week,' he begged. Gerry winked at me whilst she pretended to consider his plea.

'Very well, I suppose we must give you the benefit of the doubt, Christopher,' she said finally. 'Anyhow, I dare say that Molly and I must rely on you not to sneak on us.'

The boy found his voice and he said: 'Oh, you have my word of honour that my lips will be sealed, Miss Geraldine.'

Gerry grinned at me and then chuckled openly at his discomfiture as she said as bold as brass: 'Good lad, that's all I need to know. But you must answer one more question-am I correct in thinking that this is the first time you have ever clapped eyes on the nude female body?'

Christopher lifted his head to steal a quick gaze at the fluffy triangle of flaxen hair between Gerry's thighs as he replied in a hoarse croak: 'You're right, I've never seen any girl in the nude before.'

To my surprise she said delightedly: 'So it must follow that you are still virgo intacto. Don't be embarrassed, I'll wager there aren't many boys of your age who have crossed the Rubicon. But I know from my own experience how tiresome it is to be a virgin even at your tender age, especially when you are physically ready to enjoy your first fuck. You are physically ready for sexual initiation, I presume?'

Christopher's eyes lit up and he said excitedly: 'I should say I am, Miss Geraldine! Why, I've been more than ready for a long time!'

'Have you now?' she continued with a lusty look in her eyes. 'Well, my young feller-me-lad, it would be best if you stripped off and let me see for myself whether this is so. There's no need to be shy, my dear- Molly and I have already exhibited our naked charms to you so now it's your turn to show us what you have to offer!

She need not have bothered to encourage him because Christopher instantly whipped off his vest and pulled down his shorts to exhibit a thick cock which appeared to me to be surprisingly big for a lad of his age. Gerry reached out and clasped his prick which swelled up to a state of throbbing erection against his flat belly as she fisted her hand up and down the blue-veined shaft.

'Hasn't Christopher been lucky to be blessed with such a thick prick, Molly? 'she said to me. But I shrugged my shoulders and said: 'I suppose so but, to be quite candid, I haven't the slightest interest in cocks of any shape or size.'

Gerry looked at me in great astonishment. 'Well, it's entirely up to you, of course, but I do think you're missing out on a great deal of fun if the sight of a juicy big todger doesn't make you feel even a tiny bit randy. You really should try one out, darling, there's a lot to be said for being fucked by a real prick as opposed to even the wickedest tongue or fingers.'

She turned to Christopher and said: 'This is one of the nicest cocks I've ever handled. Master Lewis-Tucker. I can't believe that all the local lasses would let such a splendid shaft go to waste. Are you absolutely sure it has never been inserted inside a cunney before?'

Christopher shook his head and answered in a voice cracking with emotion: 'No, it never has, though not from want of trying. But the only time I ever came close was when I had a snog after my birthday party with our kitchen-maid who let me play with her pussey whilst she tossed me off!

'And it has had to be satisfied with the ministrations of Mother Thumb and her four daughters? 'enquired my sweet cousin with a lascivious grin as she continued to slide her hand slowly up and down his pulsating pole. 'Well, see how you like this, young man.'

Gerry sank to her knees and delicately licked all round the ridge of his uncapped helmet before jamming her luscious lips over the mushroom dome and lashing her tongue around his rigid rod. She sucked at least half of Christopher's exceptionally thick cock into her mouth whilst her hands played with his dangling balls.

Then she began to gobble him in earnest, drawing her hot wet tongue from the base of his throbbing tool right up to the tiny 'eye' on his gleaming bell-end. He clutched at her hair and shuddered all over: Gerry only had time to swish her tongue over his knob one more time before the coup de grace and Christopher expelled a stream of frothy jism into her mouth which she gulped down whilst she gently squeezed his balls to milk his virgin cock of every drop of sticky seed.

Unfortunately for the eager boy, Gerry had no time to continue this lewd playfulness because we had promised to attend an evening reception at Southard Lodge which my Uncle Lionel and Aunt Rosina had planned for our neighbours and to which Christopher's parents had been invited. And here I must confess that I was slightly miffed when Gerry arranged to meet Christopher at this secluded spot in three days' time when she would complete his first practical lesson in fucking.

Anyhow, enough of such rudery-let me now tell you of the wonderful excursion we made yesterday to Glengariff which must be the most beautiful area in the whole of Ireland. It is set in a deep Alpine valley seldom exceeding a quarter of a mile in breadth and of about three miles in length enclosed by precipitous hills.

At this point I folded the letter and stuffed it back inside the envelope, for to be honest I was far less interested in the beauties of South-west Ireland than in Lady Molly Southard's escapades with her lusty young cousin! In any case, I had no time to read any more or I would be late for my meeting with Lord Philip Pelham whose pet hate is unpunctuality. 'L 'exactitude est la politesse des wis' he would say severely to any errant guests and I had no desire to receive a wigging from my chum.

But, more importantly, Lady Molly's uninhibited epistle had made me feel extremely raunchy and I could hardly wait to be acquainted with the two chorus girls my chum had invited to join us for a drive in his new motor car. I squinted out of the window and, seeing there was hardly a cloud in the sky, I decided to wear my best summer coat, a smart unlined Alpaca which Mr. Motkaievitch had made for me back in April. I made a mental note to send him a cheque at the end of the month because I don't believe in keeping a tailor waiting for more than six months to be paid.

I called out a goodbye to Sally and dashed out into Kendal Street where I hailed a passing taxi to take me to Lord Philip's luxurious apartment in Berkeley Square. Thankfully the traffic was relatively light and the driver was not held up for too long at Marble Arch so it was only ten thirty-five when I knocked on Phil's front door. He opened the door himself and clapped me on the shoulder.

'Morning, Andrew, isn't it a glorious day?' he said cheerfully as I followed him through the hall into his spacious living room. 'Come and have a glass of bubbly. I've just ordered Mutkin to bring a bottle out of the ice-box as the girls arrived only a moment ago and are taking their coats off in one of the bedrooms.'

'How disappointing! I had hoped they would be taking off more than that!' I observed. Phil chortled: 'Have patience, old boy, the day is young. Now take a pew, the girls will be in very shortly. They're both simply terrific fun and I've been wondering which one you will find the most attractive.

'I rather fancy Becky myself but I've no objection to pairing off with Claire instead because I know that you're a real sucker for blondes,' he added generously.

'Aren't we all?' I retorted and rose to my feet as the two girls swept into the room, followed by Mutkin bearing a tray with four glasses of chilled champagne.

Phil swiftly made the introductions and it was clear why he had been bowled over by Becky Fairweather's charms. She was a petite, well-rounded young lady with twinkly blue eyes and a saucy face with a small, slightly retrousse nose and full red lips. Not that Claire Blakemore was any less lovely! She was taller than her friend and her large brown eyes were set in soft, classical features whilst there were deep, natural waves in the long tresses of her shiny hair which reached down to her shoulders.

Mutkin stepped forward. I passed Claire a glass of champagne from his tray and said: 'Phil tells me that you and Becky are in the new revue at the Empire, Leicester Square. You must be jolly good dancers to have been chosen to play at the top music hall theatre in London. I'll wager there were twenty girls battling for every place in the line.'

Claire smiled and exchanged a fleeting smile with Becky as she replied: 'Yes, it's not easy finding work, although Becky and I are both on the books of a leading theatrical agent. As you say, there are lots of girls who can sing and dance well enough and you just have to hope that the director likes the look of your face.'

'And your legs,' chuckled Phil as he clinked glasses with the girls, 'I wouldn't mind being the choreographer at a place like the Empire or the Hippodrome with lots of pretty girls wanting to do their best to attract my attention. Between ourselves, do any of these fellows ask for any special favours, so to speak?'

'Occasionally, but most of them are nancy boys so we don't often get asked for a bit of slap and tickle on the side,' answered Becky with a giggle. 'But there are one or two exceptions like Mike Burge at Drury Lane. He likes girls, all right, doesn't he, Claire?'

'You can say that again!' said Claire with great feeling. 'But he was a real gentleman because he didn't ask me out to dinner until after he chose me as one of the tavern girls in Hallo, Sailor. Mind you, it was a terrible show and closed after only three weeks!'

'I never knew he took you out to dinner, you naughty thing,' said Becky. Phil remarked that the girls could probably write a jolly interesting play about their experiences in the theatre. He winked at me as he continued: 'And it wouldn't be hard to find backers for the production either, though I suppose the best bits couldn't be staged as we would have to tone it down too much because of the Lord Chamberlain's office!'

Becky finished her drink and grinned: 'Not if you could put it on at one of those private theatres a few of those toffs have built in their big country houses. Why, Claire and I could tell you some tales about one or two of the shows the Earl of Hampshire puts on down at his place at Laverstoke Hall near Basingstoke. Why, we had three costumes and if we wore them all at once you could still see our titties!'

'I've never seen anything untoward when I've been in the audience in the theatre at Laverstoke Hall,' I commented ruefully. 'Of course, that may be because I've only been there as a guest of his daughter, Lady Molly Southard. Funnily enough, I received a letter from her only this morning. Did either of you meet Molly, by any chance?'

'No, but I've heard all about her,' laughed Claire, isn't she the lusty tribade the weekly journals call “Madcap Molly”?'

'How did you know she's a tribade? That information was never printed in The Tatler or The Illustrated London News!' I said in some surprise. Claire shrugged her shoulders as she answered: 'Oh, come on, Andrew, don't tell me that you never read any of the “horn” magazines! There was a long article about Molly Southard and her naughty nights at the Arcadian Society for Ladies in The Cremorne!

Phil rubbed his hands together and said: 'I'd love to hear more about these private performances, but let's wait till we get to Putney Heath. Mutkin, will you be good enough to refill the glasses whilst I check with Mrs. Angel that she's packed all the goodies for our picnic'

'M'mm, I adore good bubbly,' said Claire, holding out her goblet which the butler filled to the brim. 'Andrew, have you tried this new drink called Buck's Fizz? It's all the rage in the West End these days. The recipe is simple enough, three-quarters of a glass of champagne to a quarter of fresh orange juice.'

'Yes, and I find it very refreshing although it would be rather wasteful to prepare it with 1902 Moet et Chandon,' I remarked whilst Mutkin emptied the bottle into the remaining three glasses. 'Still, if you're keen on Buck's Fizz, we can stop at a greengrocer on our way to Putney and I'll buy some oranges so you can make up a jar for us.'

'Oh, I don't know whether that would be such a good idea because that particular cocktail makes me feel frisky,' giggled Becky and Phil caught these last words as he came back from the kitchen.

'Whose cock makes you feel frisky, m'dear?' demanded our host with a smile on his face. 'Has the infamous Jerry Fenner been poking you again?'

Phil turned to me and continued: 'I tell you what, old boy, I don't think that there can be any pretty soubrettes left on the London stage who have been able to resist Jerry's charms. My God, don't you wish we had his savoir faire! Why, only a couple of months ago I saw with my own eyes how this years crop of debutantes were actually queuing up to be shagged by Jerry after the Berkeley Square Summer Ball.'

Becky downed her glass and wagged a reproving finger at Phil, 'I said “cocktail” not “cock", your naughty lordship,' she replied lightly. 'Anyhow, I haven't seen Jerry Fenner for ages. The last I heard of him was that he took Lady Daplen's twin eighteen-year-old daughters to Bournemouth at the beginning of the month for a holiday and he won't be returning till next week at the earliest.

'But never mind about Jerry, I'm looking forward to a picnic and a ride in your motor car,' added the perky blonde.

We trooped downstairs and piled into Phil's brand new canvas-covered Rover tourer whilst Mutkin attached a large hamper to the back of the vehicle. The girls sat in the back whilst I sat next to Phil who adjusted his goggles- and my chum gave a happy chuckle as the engine roared into life at the first time of asking. 'Here we go,' he cried and we shot out into the traffic, narrowly missing a passing horse and cart whose driver bellowed a curse at Phil as my pal swung the car into Hill Street.

'What did that cheeky blighter shout out?' asked Phil as we chugged our way towards Park Lane.

'I wouldn't worry about it,' I said comfortingly, in any case, even if you wanted to, I should think it's anatomically impossible. But take it easy, old bean, we want to get to Putney in one piece.

'Andrew, don't be such a spoilsport, I love going fast!' cried out Claire. Of course, this was all Phil needed to hear and he drove at speed through Hyde Park. Now, if I had been called as a witness at the magistrate's court I would have had to perjure myself if I testified that we had been travelling at less than forty miles an hour on the Carriage Road when a policeman stepped from behind a tree as we approached the Prince of Wales's Gate and waved us down.

'Buggeration!' muttered Phil as he brought the car to a stop and waited for the constable to approach us. 'I've already been summoned for speeding this month. Oh well, let's see if I can persuade this fellow to let me off with a wigging.'

I didn't give much for his chances when the policeman arrived and said sternly: 'Good morning, sir. Do you realize what speed your car reached just now? The limit in the park is fifteen miles an hour but since you passed my colleague at Park Close, you were driving at forty-four mile an hour.'

He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and Phil smacked his cheek in horror. 'Dear me, is that so? Then I must offer you my sincere apologies but the truth is that I only purchased this car a few days ago and I'm not really used to driving such a powerful machine.'

'AH the more reason for taking extra care, sir,' said the constable. But as he brought out his pencil to write down Phil's particulars, my chum alighted from the car and said: 'Hold on a tick, officer, I'm a founder member of the Courtesy Motorists Club. Let me show you my membership card.'

Claire leaned forward and whispered to me: 'What on earth is the Courtesy Motorists Club? Becky and I have never heard of it.'

'Neither have I, and I read The Motor every month,' I muttered as I watched Phil pass a small piece of blue cardboard to the policeman who unfolded it and immediately slipped a folded leaf of paper into his pocket whilst he studied the cardboard intently for a few moments.

To my astonishment the policeman refolded the board and gave it back to Phil as he said in a gruff voice: 'Well, in the circumstances, I'll let you off with a caution this time as the road was clear, but you must be more careful in future, sir.'

'Oh, I will be, officer, you can depend on it,' said Phil as he climbed back into the car and let off the handbrake.

I looked at him and scratched my head whilst he drove slowly up to the line of cars waiting at Prince's Gate to cross into Exhibition Road and said: 'Well now, I would have put a tenner on your getting a ticket back there. How did you make that bobby change his mind? Does membership of the Courtesy Motorists Club confer any special privileges as far as the police are concerned? If so, tell me how I can join it.'

He said drily: 'Don't be daft, Andrew, I'm the founder, secretary and only member of that fraternity. The reason why the copper let me go is not unconnected to the view I've often expressed to you that a judicious financial gift to persons in petty authority works wonders. I'm a little surprised that you didn't guess that I had a banknote tucked inside that piece of board.'

'Gosh, wasn't that a rather dangerous gambit?' I said excitedly. 'Suppose he had taken offence at the offer of a bribe to let you off scot-free?'

'Not much chance of that,' retorted Phil. 'Aren't you aware that our coppers are the best money can buy! Anyway, I didn't get off scot-free, it cost me a pound note. Sure, I would probably have been fined only double that amount if I had been brought up before a beak-but think of all the time and trouble I've saved by paying off the chap now.'

'H'm, I'm not too certain whether that argument would hold up if you were ever charged with perverting the cause of justice,' I declared doubtfully-and then burst out laughing as I realized just how pompous I had sounded!

The girls joined in the laughter as we made our way through the crowded streets towards Putney Bridge. Once over the river, though, the traffic thinned out and Phil pressed his foot down on the throttle when we reached Putney Hill. Expertly, he changed to a lower gear as we sped up the incline and by half past twelve we parked the car and Phil and myself carried the heavy wicker hamper to a quiet secluded spot near Scio Pond.

We opened the hamper and it was clear that Mrs. Angel had packed enough food and drink for double our number. There was cold roast chicken, a veal and ham pie, brisket of beef and rolled tongue as well as two large bowls of salad, rolls and butter and pastries.

'What a bumper spread! I hope you boys are hungry,' exclaimed Claire. I grinned: 'And I hope you girls are thirsty, because even though I forgot to ask Phil to stop so I could buy some oranges to make Buck's Fizz, we have four small bottles of champagne, two bottles of seltzer, a bottle of claret and a bottle of hock to knock back!'

'Well, we'll just have to do our best,' Phil declared as he helped Becky spread out the linen tablecloth. 'Tuck in, everybody.'

After this magnificent feast the four of us all agreed that a pleasant post-prandial snooze was now in order. We found comfortable places to rest some twenty yards away from each other and to Phil's obvious delight, he was able to pair off with Becky who snuggled her curvy body next to his lean, supple frame. This did not bother me in the slightest for I was happy enough to have Claire resting her pretty head on my shoulder as I snaked my arm round her waist and brought her closer to me as we lay back on a hillock of dry grass.

Claire let out a little chuckle. When I asked what was amusing her, she replied: 'I was just thinking about Phil's friend, Jerry Fenner. Are you also one of his chums?'

I replied: 'Not exactly, although we have met at the occasional house party. I knew he's a good-looking brute, but I've often wondered how he got such a reputation as a gay Lothario and whether indeed it is justified.'

Claire gave a broad smile. 'Oh, it's justified, all right. But then, what would you expect from a young man who moves in one of the fastest sets in the entire country? I don't know how he is regarded in Society but he's a real stage door Johnny.

Most girls I know have been sent one of his special bunches of red roses with an invitation to dine at Romano's.'

The champagne had loosened my tongue and I blurted out: 'How about you, Claire? Did you ever succumb to his advances?'

'Just the once,' she replied quietly. 'You probably know that Jerry is reckoned by many to be one of the most talented amateur portrait painters in London. Well, he approached me one afternoon as I was going in to the theatre for the last matinee of Hallo, Sailor, my first West End show which you recall had poor reviews and ran for only three weeks. I was feeling very low and he really cheered me up by asking me if I would sit for him one day after the final performance.

'His offer boosted my morale and, to cut short the story, he arranged for his chauffeur to pick me up from my lodgings. He took me to Jerry's posh house in St John's Wood.

'“Mr. Fenner's expecting you, Miss,” said the driver as he opened the door for me. Jerry must have been watching out for my arrival for he opened the door himself whilst I was walking up the garden path. “Hello, Claire, how lovely to see you again,” he beamed, planting a chaste little kiss on my cheek as he helped me take off my hat and coat. He ushered me into the drawing room and gestured me to a comfortable armchair.

'“Do join me in a glass of chilled white wine,” he smiled. Jerry soon put me at ease as we exchanged the latest bits of theatrical gossip. Like many girls, I was quickly taken with this witty and handsome young man. He had dressed himself for the part in a pair of purple velveteen trousers, a loose white shirt with a colourfully embroidered waistcoat and a floppy silk tie secured with a glowing moonstone.

'Anyhow, we chatted away and I am not ashamed to admit that I blushed with pride at the realization that Jerry was obviously rather keen on me. Happily, this was very much a mutual feeling-so much so that I really thought little of it when Jerry announced that he wanted me to model for a nude study.

'“I hope you're not offended by this suggestion but I cannot tell you how excited I am by the thought of capturing your unadorned beauty on canvas,” he went on, looking searchingly at me from across the room.

'Well, if I say so myself, I've never suffered from false modesty, so I rose from my seat and said to him: “You've never seen me au naturel. Suppose you find my figure isn't to your liking?”

'“I can't believe that will happen,” Jerry replied huskily as I reached up and unpinned my hair which cascaded down in tresses down the sides of my face. Then I turned round and kicked off my shoes as I let my jacket fall from my shoulders. I followed this by unbuttoning my blouse and swivelled back to face him whilst I slipped off the garment and threw it across the arm of my chair. With a soft smile playing about my lips, I unhooked my dress and let it slide to the floor with a gentle swish. I stepped out of the crumpled heap of cloth and when I pulled my chemise over my head, Jerry gasped audibly at the sight of my creamy bare breasts.

'Next I sat down and peeled off my stockings and as I stood up, bending my knees whilst I wiggled down my knickers to my feet, I said lightly: “There you are, Mr. Fenner. Do you like what you see or shall I wrap the goods up again?”

'He took in a deep breath and I grinned as I saw his eyes rove up and down my naked body. In a cracked voice he answered: “My dear Claire, even though I have never made any secret of my affection for you, I truly never imagined that my senses would be assailed by such gorgeous feminine beauty. You are so very, very lovely…”

'Jerry's voice trailed off as he took my hand and led me to a carved cheval mirror on the far wall where I delightedly contemplated my nude body in the glass.

'Now nudity-even my own-always awakens my sensual passions and a delicious, liquid sensation was already suffusing my pussey as I looked at myself in the mirror with unashamed delight. With my eyes shining, I allowed my tongue to emerge from between my parted lips and I turned my head from side to side whilst I admired my elegant profile. Locks of silky chestnut hair fell forward, the ends caressing my breasts, and this sent further electric sparks shooting through my body, causing my rosy nipples to harden and rise. Glancing down at my heaving bosoms, I cupped the globular spheres in my hands, squeezing the soft, yielding flesh and tickling the hardening rubbery nipples.

'A wordless growl escaped from Jerry's throat as, watching myself even more intently, I massaged the rounded cheeks of my bottom and then brought my hands round to my gently curving belly until I finally reached the fluffy thatch of curls between my thighs. The merest touch of my fingertips on my outer cunney lips was enough to make me quiver with unslaked sensual lust and a lightning flash of liquid fire shot through my entire body when a stray finger brushed the edge of my swollen clitty.'

It was evident to me that recounting this erotic episode was affecting Claire's composure as she paused to moisten her lips with her tongue before she continued: 'With my eyes blazing with passion, I turned to Jerry and, with my hips undulating in a lascivious rhythm, I pressed myself against him, crushing my breasts against his chest as I felt his steely stiffstander throbbing against my crotch. My arms snaked around his shoulders, caressing the hard musculature at the back of his neck as his mouth opened to receive my darting tongue.

'Now it was Jerry's body that trembled all over as he took my jiggling bum cheeks in his strong hands, kneading the jouncy globes as he pressed my cunt even more firmly against his erection and making me gasp with excitement. Suddenly I was filled with an overwhelming desire to take this palpitating shaft into my mouth and Jerry's eyes lit up in joyful anticipation when I dropped to my knees and ripped open his fly buttons, plunging my right hand inside the open slit to release his twitching todger. I rubbed the palm of my left hand against my love lips when I found his huge boner and immediately bent my head forward to kiss the glowing red helmet, licking up a blob of “pre-cum” which had formed around the tiny “eye” whilst I clasped his meaty chopper between my fingers and filled my nostrils with his distinctive musky maleness.

'He groaned in exquisite agony when I ran the tip of my tongue from the base to the tip of his cock. I followed this by feeding as much of his thick tool as possible into my mouth, sucking strongly and rhythmically as my lips moved backwards and forwards along the hot, smooth shaft.

'My pussey was getting wetter and wetter and an overwhelming sensual craving for Jerry to make love to me shuddered through my veins as I gobbled greedily on my fleshy sweetmeat. So I pulled his gorgeous cock out of my mouth and implored this elegant man to fuck me without further delay.

'I reached for a cushion from the sofa to slide under my head as I laid down on the carpet and he scrambled on top of me, pushing my thighs wide apart so that he could insert his knob between the love-puffed lips of my clingy snatch. I worked my legs upwards, wrapping them around his back whilst he pumped wildly in and out of my soaking slit and soon I had his cock in to the hilt, his heavy balls banging against my bum cheeks as his helmet reached the very back of my love funnel.

'“Fuck me, Jerry, fuck me with your big fat cock!” I urged him, and the dear man responded with renewed vigour, thrusting his tool at speed in and out of my juicy cunt. Like the crack of a starting gun, our thighs slapped together with every pistoning stroke as he corked my cunney to the limit with his pistoning shaft.

'The sensations were simply too wonderful to describe and we gloried in a magnificent simultaneous spend when, after a series of tempestuous spasms, Jerry creamed my cunney with a fountain of spunk and I reached my own superb climax, climbing the highest peaks of pleasure as we thrashed around in those unique magical moments of erotic delirium.

'Jerry rolled off me and instantly I realized why his tool is in such demand amongst young Society ladies, for his thick prick was still as stiff as a poker!

'“Would you care to continue?” he asked as I reached down to clasp the warm wet shaft, wrapping my finger around the base. I was greatly tempted to accept this invitation, but my pussey had been so well stretched by Jerry's colossal chopper that it needed a rest. So I murmured: “To be honest with you, darling, my cunt isn't yet ready for another joust. However, if you would like to lie back, I would love to finish you off by sucking your delicious cock.”

'He promptly lay back. I scrambled up on my knees and, still holding his blue-veined love truncheon, I leaned forward to close my lips over his gleaming uncapped dome. With my free hand I massaged his balls as I slid my lips up and down his swollen shaft, sucking with relish until he began to thrust upwards, in and out of my mouth in time with my own lewd rhythm.

'Soon Jerry's balls began to tremble inside their wrinkled hairy pink sack and I guessed correctly that he was about to spend again. A few moments later a long stream of sticky sperm spurted into my mouth and his massive member bucked uncontrollably as I held his knob lightly between my teeth. My own supreme pleasure flowed over me as I sucked and swallowed the fierce spouts of jism which poured out of his prick.

'I licked up the last drops of tangy cum with my flickering tongue and his silky-textured tool finally softened as I rolled my lips around it. Jerry heaved a long sigh of relief as he lay sated. I straightened up and said with genuine admiration: “My word, Mr. Fenner, your cock certainly has been blessed with an unusual power. Do you perform any special exercises or take any kind of secret medicine to keep your equipment in such good order?”

'Jerry laughed heartily as he replied: “Of course not, you silly goose. Believe me, if such an elixir or exercises existed and a medical man wrote a treatise about them, the queues around the bookshops would stretch for miles! No, the simple fact of the matter is that I am lucky enough to have a strong constitution. Also, I do not indulge in the foul habit of smoking and I drink only sparingly to keep myself in good trim.”'

Claire smiled to herself as she took a bite of one of Mrs. Angel's delectable apple tarts and I said with a hint of asperity in my voice: 'So tell me, did you ever get round to sitting for Jerry Fenner?'

She shook her head and answered: 'Unfortunately not, because by the time he set up his easel and began to make a preliminary charcoal sketch, I could see his shaft was beginning to thicken once more and at my instigation we enjoyed a further doggie-style fuck. I bent over the arm of the sofa with my legs slightly apart and Jerry guided his cock between my bum cheeks and into my impatient cunt. He slid his arms around me and cupped my breasts in his hands as he slewed in and out of my squishy quim. This time we enjoyed a long, leisurely fuck and again I was able to enjoy to the full the mingling of my love juices with Jerry's creamy jism when he shot a copious emission of spunk inside my tingling snatch.

'There was no further time to carry on because he had arranged with a friend to play billiards at the Jim Jam Club before supper and since then our paths have not crossed again. Still, I hope we will see each other again soon and that Jerry will keep his promise to paint me.'

I heard a heartfelt sigh from behind me and turned to see that Phil and Becky had sidled up to us whilst Claire was recounting the details of her rude encounter with Jerry Fenner. Clearly, Claires confessions had aroused their own lascivious desires for the lusty couple were now lying on a raised grassy hillock glued together in an impassioned embrace. I instinctively moved nearer to Claire and slipped my arm around her waist whilst we watched Phil slide his hands over Becky's body, moulding the linen blouse against the rounded curves of her bosom. Indeed, she made no move to repulse him when Phil fumbled with the hook of her skirt. Becky herself unbuttoned her blouse and slid down the straps of her chemise over her arms whilst he tugged down her crisp white knickers and slid his right hand in between her legs.

'Oooh, now you know that you shouldn't do that, Phil. What would happen if somebody came walking by?' asked Becky with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. She neatly trapped his hand by squeezing her thighs together whilst he tickled the entrance of her honeypot with his imprisoned fingers.

'Who cares? If anyone wants to watch, Andrew and Claire can pass the hat round for a collection,' he blurted out breathlessly. 'Now let go my hand, Becky, let me stick my prick in your cunney instead and we'll have a jolly little fuck.'

'Oh, all right then, though it'll have to be a quickie,' she giggled as she released his trapped hand. Phil nodded as he smartly tore off his trousers and drawers. Becky fondled his erect shaft whilst he gently massaged the pouting pink pussey lips peeking out of her curly thatch of flaxen pussey hair.

'Gad, Becky, you really are a delicious little filly,' Phil murmured as their lips met. The ripe young blonde smiled at the compliment, holding his cock in her fist whilst his searching fingertips continued to trace the outline of Becky's crack through the fine bush of golden hair which lightly covered her cunney.

Phil's prick leaped and pranced in her hand as he inserted his finger inside her moist cunney. Becky wrenched her mouth away and pulled his head to her breasts where he turned his lips from side to side to kiss each of her raised-up rubbery nipples.

'Now fuck me, you big-cocked boy,' she whispered. Phil was more than happy to oblige, his entire frame quivering with anticipation as he rolled on top of her and positioned himself along the luscious length of her warm, naked body.

My own cock also swelled up to a throbbing erection. From the gasps of ragged breath emanating from Claire, I could tell that she too was aroused at watching our mutual chums enjoy each other's bodies.

'My word, there's no stopping those two now,' I said quietly as Becky clasped hold of Phils raging cock to guide it carefully between her yielding love lips and into her juicy wet cunt. Phil gently embedded his shaft inside her luscious love channel, moving only very slowly as he revelled in the heavenly sensations afforded by her clingy cunney muscles. Then he began to fuck the blonde beauty in earnest, pistoning his prick in and out of her flaxen muff until their pubic hairs were entwined before withdrawing all but the very tip of his knob and then plunging its whole length in again to the very root.

This controlled, rhythmic fucking had the desired effect upon Becky whose rounded bum cheeks left the ground as she arched her back, cleverly working her cunney back and forth against the ramming of Phils rampant chopper. Soon he groaned hoarsely that he could no longer hold back the tide of sticky spunk in his tightening ballsack which was now shooting up his rod stem.

'Haaah! Haaah! I'm going to cum!' Phil wailed. Becky shrieked: 'Let it go! Let it go!' as she grabbed his arse cheeks in her hands and pulled him forward so that every last inch of his beefy prick was sheathed inside her cunt. Their pubic bones ground together as she jerked her hips up and down to meet his pounding thrusts.

'A-a-r-g-h!' gurgled Phil as he exploded into her squishy quim, showering the walls of her cunney with jism during his copious ejaculation. Becky sighed with delight when he kept his throbbing tool pulsing inside her tingling notch, sending a series of tiny electric shocks speeding to every part of her trembling torso as he shot spasm after spasm of creamy seed into her sated slit. Phil rolled off the girl and lay by her side, his chest heaving as he recovered from his voluptuous coupling. He gasped: 'Phew! That was a truly wonderful fuck, m'dear, but I'm sorry I spent before you climaxed.'

But Becky smiled and said: 'You don't have to apologize, Phil, it's partly my fault because I shouldn't have squeezed your tool so hard with my cunney muscles.'

He smiled, gave her a grateful look and swung himself over her again, nibbling on the nubile dancer's pointy red nipples before lowering his head and planting a wet kiss in her golden thatch of fine pussey hair. Then he moved himself round to kneel between her legs and declared: 'No, no, I insist on putting matters right. Believe me, Becky, it will be my very real pleasure to do so!'

He parted her thighs. The cute little blonde let out a blissful sigh when he lovingly kissed her pouting crack and ran his tongue down the full length of her rolled love lips.

'Oooh, you lovely licker!' she murmured as Phil moved his tongue sensually along her slit, savouring the tangy essence of their joint love juices. Up and down he licked and lapped. Becky breathed deeply as she wound her thighs around Phils neck and lost herself in the excitement of having her new lover eat her pussey. To her great delight, Lord Philip Pelham was proving himself to be an experienced and expert cunnilinguist, as many young ladies, from humble chambermaids to those in the highest strata of Society, could already have testified.

Claire and I leaned forward to watch Phil in action. He began by parting the pussey lips with the utmost care before running the tip of his tongue very lightly along the edges of Becky's crack, sending shivers of sheer ecstasy racing out of her cunt. Then his tongue suddenly darted in and out of her dripping snatch, and she wriggled wildly, tossing her head from side to side when he started to quicken the pace.

'Oh, that's marvellous, it's just like being fucked by your cock,' gasped the ecstatic girl when Phil found the swollen little button of her clitty. He nipped at it playfully with his teeth, rolling his tongue all around the fleshy nut whilst he slid his forefinger into her open wetness.

She clutched his head, scrunching her thighs tightly around it, her cunt spasming as he lapped up the oozing cuntal juices which now flowed freely from her pussey.

Becky was now eager to repay the compliment and as Phil's cock had already hardened up again to its full majestic stiffness, she settled him nicely on his back. Then she climbed on top of him, bending forward to kiss his lips as Phil cupped her luscious breasts in his hands, feeling her stiffened strawberry nipples rub against his fingers whilst she lowered herself upon his cock with tantalizing slowness. Phil growled with unslaked passion as her oily cunney lips brushed against the tip of his uncapped helmet.

Then he let out a deep breath of satisfaction when Becky moved her hips so that her cunney lips slid over his knob: he thrilled to her clinging wetness as she lowered herself fully upon his palpitating length.

'Here we go again,' she said cheerfully as she raised herself up and then plumped herself down hard, impaling her shuddering torso on his rock-hard lust truncheon which slid right up inside her warm, wet love funnel.

Now Phil slipped his hands under her shoulders and bounced the nubile girl up and down. She used her thighs to ride him, and her breasts jiggled invitingly as she bobbed up and down on his cock as he met each of her downward thrusts with an upward jerk of his hips. However, it was Becky who was directing the pace of their frantic love-making and soon Phil was panting furiously whilst she heaved herself up and down on his twitching tool, taking every inch of his cock deep into her juicy honeypot. The continual contractions of her wickedly clever little cunney soon brought him to the brink of a second rip-roaring spend.

His face contorted with effort as he shot a tremendous jet of j ism into Becky's cunt as she rocked from side to side, faster and faster until the force of a fierce orgasm swept over her. With a shriek of joy she achieved her climax, almost swooning away as her cunney disgorged a rivulet of cuntal fluids over Phil's matted pubic curls.

She sank down into his arms and he declared with no little satisfaction: 'H'm, you certainly spent that time even if you had to do most of the work!'

Becky looked up with a happy smile on her face and kissed his chin. 'Oh, don't worry about that, my lord, it was well worth the effort! I love to shag in that way although some of my friends grumble about being asked to go on top, saying that it's a lazy man's way of making love. But I don't mind it at all because I've found that fucking this way always makes the boy's cock rub against my clitty!'

I had been so engrossed by this erotic exhibition that I genuinely had not realized that Claire had become so excited by the lusty scene that she had undone my fly buttons and was wanking my erect shaft up and down in her hand.

She swung herself over to sit on my thighs and, as I glanced at her flushed face, the thought flashed across my mind that Phil's ploy with the constable on traffic duty would be unlikely to bail us out if we were reported to the police by an outraged passer-by. But, as the old saying goes, when the cock goes stiff, common sense flies out of the window. So I said nothing but simply closed my eyes and moaned with delight as Claire washed her tongue all around my bared crimson helmet.

'Woooh!' I gurgled as Claire nibbled at the edges of my knob with her even white teeth before gently easing my cock into her mouth. She gobbled with gusto as I instinctively put my hands up to cup her breasts which swung so invitingly inside the thin covering of her taffeta blouse.

Claire slurped on her fleshy lollipop and wave after wave of exquisite pleasure crashed through my body as I thrust my shaft forward, pressing the crown against the roof of her warm, wet mouth. No cock could resist such a wickedly clever stimulation and just as Phil had notified Becky when he was about to cum, so I called out hoarsely that I would be unable to hold back my spend for much longer.

(In reply to readers who may ask why I bothered to do so, my answer is that I deem it to be a necessary courtesy. For there are some girls, admittedly few in number, who enjoy sucking pricks but do not wish to swallow their boyfriends' spunk. I find this difficult to understand as it can do them no harm. Indeed, masculine seed contains a highly nutritious mix of minerals and vitamins. But, of course, a partner's wishes must always be respected. Only a cad would try to bully his lover into doing something she wasn't happy about but there is absolutely nothing wrong in asking your amorata whether she would be willing to pleasure you in a particular way.)

Happily, I had no need to make any such enquiry of Claire. She clearly adored the taste of sperm for she nodded as she squeezed my balls inside their wrinkled pink sack. With a loud groan I expelled down her throat a torrent of creamy jism which she swallowed with evident enjoyment. She continued to suck my cock with great skill until it had been milked dry and then she lifted her head and smacked her lips in satisfaction.

'Now how about a proper fuck, Andrew? I'm dying for a good poke,' she brazenly declared as she kept my cock stiff by slicking her hand up and down the quivering shaft.

'So am I, but let's wait till we get back to Phil's flat,' I smiled as I gently moved the voracious girl off my legs, it will be far more comfortable because we'll be able to take off all our clothes and won't have to be on the look-out for any Peeping Toms!'

'Quite right, old boy,' interjected Phil with a grin. 'With a bit of luck my chopper will have recovered and if you and the girls are willing we could have a smashing whoresome foursome.'

Naturally, I was all in favour of this idea which also found favour with Becky and Claire so we gathered up the detritus of our picnic and walked briskly back to the car. After the incident with the police in Hyde Park, Phil kept strictly to the speed limit on our journey home but despite some heavy traffic, less than three-quarters of an hour later my chum was ushering us in to his apartment.

'What can I offer anyone?' he asked us as we settled ourselves down in the living room. 'Ladies, how about a liqueur to refresh you after our journey? There's cognac, cherry brandy, chartreuse, creme de menthe, kummel, drambuie. Andrew, I dare say you'll join me in a whisky and soda?'

'By all means,' I replied genially but Claire thought hard for a moment and said: 'Phil, I might have a creme de menthe later, if I may, but what I would really like now is a nice cup of tea.'

'Me too,' piped up Becky which caused Phil to frown and pull his hand slowly down his cheek as he said: 'Ah, now I'm afraid that tea might be a bit of a problem. You see, Mrs. Angel and Mutkin have the afternoon off today so we would have to make it ourselves.'

Becky gave a broad chuckle and wagged her finger at him. 'Blimey, it looks as if my Dad was right after all. He says that toffs like you don't know their arses from their elbows which is why they always need so many servants hanging about around them.'

'He's probably right at that,' grinned Phil as he opened a bottle of Martell's V.S.O. P cognac. 'Nevertheless, you can tell your father that I can tie my shoelaces without any assistance, find my way to and from the bathroom and, believe it or not, my dears, I'll be pleased to prove to the pair of you that I can make a very good cup of tea. So is your liking for Indian or for Chinese?'

'We both prefer Indian, thank you,' Becky replied and Phil winked at me as he asked: 'Darjeeling, or a blend of Ceylon and Congou?'

'Darjeeling will be fine,' said Claire, who had not yet cottoned on that her host was gently teasing them, although she furrowed her brow when Phil continued: 'Lemon or milk?'

'Milk, please,' she replied sweetly, and still keeping a straight face, Phil enquired: 'Jersey, Hereford or Shortthorn?'

The puzzled girl shrugged her shoulders and was about to reply when Becky caught sight of the smile playing on my lips. She threw a cushion at Phil as she called out: 'You rotten beast! Just for that I've a good mind to pull your cock!'

However, Claire and Becky were both good sports and neither of them were really annoyed with Phil, especially when a few minutes later he wheeled in a tea trolley loaded with plates of plum cake and shortbread biscuits and cups, saucers, tea-pot and hot water jug in the new French fire-proof china.

'Here we are, honoured guests,' Phil commented as he sat down on the sofa next to Becky. 'Now all we have to do is wait for a minute or two to let the tea brew.

'Well done, sir! If you don't mind, I'll join the girls and have that cognac with you afterwards. There's no doubt about it, Phil, you'll make a good housekeeper should there ever be a Revolution in England which sweeps away the aristocracy,' I remarked. But my old chum shook his head and said: 'No chance of that, Andrew. Remember what poor old Oscar Wilde said: “In England, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.”'

'Oscar Wilde, did you say? Wasn't he the poofy writer who picked up nancy boys in Piccadilly?' enquired Becky. This caused Phil to frown and say: 'That's the man, but you really shouldn't disparage the fellow simply because he was a pansy.

'Let me ask you something, Becky. Do you eat meat?'

'Of course I do,' she answered promptly. Phil said: 'Very good, so at the table you wouldn't turn away a beefsteak or an escalope of veal?'

'No, I like them both,' said Becky. He nodded: 'Exactly so! Well, if I may take this analogy a little further, Oscar Wilde didn't really enjoy eating beef or veal. He only liked pork and always paid handsomely for his dinners. Therefore I don't believe Wilde should have been sent to jail because in my opinion this is not a question of morality but a simple matter of taste.'

'I agree with you,' said Claire warmly, it's nothing to do with anyone else what anyone wants to do in private.

'So long as their partners are happy about what's happening and children are protected,' she added hastily and then tuttutted when she saw Phil pouring tea into the cups.

'Aren't you supposed to pour in the milk first?' she asked, a view with which Claire and I concurred.

However, my chum would have none of it. 'That's just an old wives' tale,' he scoffed, it doesn't make a scrap of difference either way, although it's true that everyone has their own way of making a “cuppa”. It's quite extraordinary how the preparation and drinking of tea is very much ritualized all over the world. When I went out to India last year, I could see that the tea stall is a veritable institution in every town and village and each chai wallah has his own way of making tea, though it usually comes ready mixed with milk and sugar.'

'Ugh! I don't like the sound of that,' remarked Becky but Phil gave a throaty chuckle as he went on: 'Come to think of it, the best cup of tea I ever had was in India. By Gad, I won't forget that afternoon in a hurry. My brother Cuthbert and I were staying in Agra with General Sir Barnett and Lady Hazel Meade, who are very good friends of my parents. Naturally the first trip on our itinerary was a walk around the Taj Mahal.

'Well, I was so fascinated by the building that the next day I returned for a second visit whilst Cuthbert went off with General Meade to a polo match in Delhi. After a couple of hours sauntering through the magnificent gardens I was feeling thirsty so I bought a cup of tea from an elderly man who had set up his stall on a wooden pallet underneath an awning.

'Now I had been told by Sir Barnett that many of these were great characters and were often the founts of local gossip so I was not entirely surprised when he said to me in that inimitable Indian sing-song fashion: “Sahib, please do not take offence at my asking you this question, but are you not the young lordship from England who is staying with his young brother at the home of General Meade?”

'“Yes, that's right,” I replied in an amused tone, feeling slightly flattered that my arrival in Agra was deemed worthy of talk amongst the local inhabitants.

'What did surprise me, though, was that a gleam appeared in the old chap's eyes and he shouted some words in Hindi to a wiry youth who was lounging against the wall before turning back to me in great excitement and saying: “Lordship, I have been a chai wallah here for many years and am well known to all the highest-ranking officers and their families who are stationed at Fort Vedgama. Often I carry messages for them and I have one for you from the General Meade's daughter, Miss Fiona, who for a reason of which I am not aware was not able to speak to you in person before you left for the Taj Mahal this morning. But she sent a servant down here with a note for you in case you walked through this street and so now it is my pleasure to give this letter to you.”

'He called out again to the young man who ambled up and with a bow produced a sealed white envelope from his tunic which he gave to me. I tore it open and swigged down a gulp of sweet warm tea whilst I read:

Dear Phil,

I had to leave home at an early hour this morning because Mama commanded me to accompany her whilst she carried out an inspection of the regiments new medical clinic. But thankfully she has gone with Papa and everyone else to the polo match which means that I will be all alone this afternoon. So please do hurry back from the Taj Mahal and join me for tea.

Fiona Meade

'” I'll say I will,” I muttered to myself as I passed my glass back to the old chai wallah and gave him a generous tip. He blessed me in English and Hindi and insisted that I allow the young man (who happened to be his nephew) to take me to the Meades' residence in his donkey cart. Well, it might not have been the most elegant form of transport but it was much better than walking and would get me to the fair Fiona that much quicker!'

'Oh, ho, a bit of a corker, was she, then?' Becky laughed and Phil could not prevent a smirk from spreading over his face as he answered: 'I won't lie, m'dear, Fiona was a real smasher. She was a bonny lass of nineteen with gold-dusted light brown hair and, being of a light-hearted disposition, her pretty face was more often than not lit up by a merry smile. Both my brother and I were also entranced by the feminine curves of her figure which were, to say the least, extremely well proportioned and I must confess that during the previous evening I had found it difficult to keep my eyes away from the two proud spheres of her gorgeous breasts.

'Fiona had been eager to hear all the latest news about what people were doing in London and it was as plain as a pikestaff that she was bored with life in India. This was not surprising because there was very little social life for a lively girl like Fiona-although I am sure that there must have been a great many young officers who would have given their eye-teeth for an introduction.'

'Presumably her Pa kept her on a very tight rein,' I remarked. But Phil replied: 'No, not really, Andrew. General Meade was an amiable old buffer, not like a lot of those chaps who come back here with their brains addled by the heat and dust to spend their declining days writing tracts about the secrets of the Pyramids or propounding some fanciful idea about a secret conspiracy of one-legged Spaniards who are planning to take over the British Empire. Her Ma was a bit of a tartar, though, and the poor girl had almost no opportunity to meet any boys of her own age.

'Anyhow, Fiona was delighted to see me and we chatted avidly during tea. Then we decided to take a stroll in the garden. As we left the room, I asked to be excused for a few moments as I needed to wash my hands.

'“I'll wait for you on the patio,” said Fiona as I made my way upstairs to the bathroom where I relieved my bladder of all the tea I had been drinking that afternoon. Then, as I was about to button up my trousers, my eyes fell upon a magazine which had been left on the window-ledge. “Good heavens!” I gasped as I thumbed through the pages of The Star of India. It was nothing less than an Indian version of The Oyster. My shaft stiffened up as I gazed at the randy photographs which showed a good-looking native couple in a variety of revealing sexual poses. Almost unconsciously, I clutched my rock-hard chopper in my hand and slowly rubbed it up and down, closing my eyes as I fantasized about how marvellous it would be to run my hands over Fiona's beautiful breasts, fondling her delectable ripe titties as I slid my hot, throbbing cock into her juicy cunt.

'I was on the verge of spunking when my reverie was disturbed by a gentle knock on the door. “Who's that?” I called out, my hand leaping away like lightning from my prick. Then my heart began to pound when I heard the soft reply: “Its only me, Phil. Are you all right?”

'“Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you,” I panted and rushed across to open the door where Fiona stood with a worried expression on her face. “You're not suffering from what we call 'Delhi belly', I hope?” she asked anxiously. Then, before I could even answer, she looked fleetingly down at my tummy and burst immediately into a fit of giggles.

'What's so funny?' I asked as I followed Fiona's amused gaze downwards. Then I let out a little cry of sheer horror when I saw that I had forgotten to button up my trousers: my erect throbbing truncheon was poking out in a lewd salute towards her!

'I sat down heavily on the side of the bath, my face burning bright red as I stammered out an apology whilst I stuffed my fast-shrinking shaft back inside my trousers. I could see myself being expelled in disgrace from the Meade household. But, to my overwhelming relief, Fiona assured me that she had not been offended by this unintended exposure of my cock. Far from being annoyed at my discourtesy, the sweet girl smiled whilst she sat down next to me and slid her hand inside my flies to bring out my flaccid prick. She murmured: “Oh dear, I didn't mean to upset your shy little cockie. Shall I bring him out again and see if he would care to be petted?”

'Her words shocked me, but somehow I managed to recover enough composure to reply in a husky whisper: “Please do, Fiona, I'm sure he would like nothing better.”

'So she reached into my trousers and slipped her fingers around my limp truncheon. As if by magic, it immediately began to swell up again, rapidly returning to its former length and strength as the gorgeous girl slowly tossed me off, squeezing and rubbing my cock whilst we exchanged a passionate open-mouthed kiss.

'Now, I hadn't enjoyed a romp since Cuthbert and I left England so not surprisingly Fiona's soft, warm hand quickly brought me to the brink of a cum. However, when she realized I was about to spend, she let go my excited shaft and muttered: “Quick, let's go to my bedroom where we can enjoy ourselves properly without being disturbed.”

'I could hardly believe that this ravishing lass was so brazenly offering herself to me! Nevertheless, I wasn't going to look a gift horse (or in this case, a gift fuck) in the mouth. So, hand in hand, we dashed across the landing to the safety of her bedroom. We were both trembling with excitement but fortunately Fiona had enough of her senses about her to lock the door before we crashed down upon her bed and began tearing off our clothes. Quite honestly, I almost spent then and there at the sight of her jiggling bare breasts and I tugged down her knickers myself before clasping her thrilling young body to me.

'Our mouths met as we embraced and my hands ran over her pert, rubbery nipples as we thrashed around, bucking and writhing in each other's arms. I kissed her again and again, almost afraid of hurting her with the intensity of my need. My fingers now strayed downwards to trace a path through the curly hairs which formed a light veil across her pouting pussey lips. Then she wrenched her lips away from mine, saying softly: “Take me, Phil, please take me. I want to be fucked by your lovely big cock!”

'As you might expect, I could hardly wait to obey this sweet command. Quivering with anticipation, I mounted the delectable girl. A low moan escaped from her throat as she grasped my thick prick and guided it firmly inside her juicy cunt.

'“Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh! Oh Phil, how splendidly your cock fits inside me!” gasped Fiona as I embedded my trusty tool inside her luscious sheath. Then I began to fuck her nice and slowly, revelling in the sensations afforded by the muscles of her tight, clinging cunney as I plunged my shaft forward until our pubic hairs were entwined. Then I pulled out all but the tip of my knob before swiftly pistoning it in again. This rich, deep fucking had the desired effect upon Fiona whose rounded bottom cheeks rolled from side to side as she arched her back to work her cunt back and forth while I reamed out her dripping quim.

'“Can I cum inside you?” I panted. She replied with a quick nod as she grabbed my buttocks and pressed me tightly against her so that every last inch of my cock was enveloped inside her tingling sheath. She moved her hips up and down and, with her hands still clutching my bum cheeks, I matched her movements so that my throbbing tool slid in and out of her sopping crack at an even faster pace.

'With a hoarse cry I exploded into her, creaming her cunney with a flood of sticky jism. My fierce ejaculation instantly brought about Fiona's own orgasm. Her body stiffened whilst I rubbed her clitty with my hand and the sweet girl shuddered in ecstacy as the powerful force of her spend swept through her. When I felt Fiona's body relax, I rolled off her and we lay panting with exhaustion in each other's arms.'

Phil paused for a moment and gave a lascivious grin as he savoured the remembrance of his voluptuous coupling. Then he continued: 'Once we had recovered our senses, Fiona played with my balls and asked me if I would- '

But at this point Becky interrupted him. 'Oh, never mind all that! Enough of words, let's have some action!' declared the clearly aroused blonde as she stood up and kicked off her shoes.

Then the wanton young vixen swiftly shucked off her blouse and tugged down her skirt-to reveal that she had not bothered to replace her underwear after her romp with Phil on Putney Heath. My cock shot up as I stared at Becky who now stood stark naked in a lascivious pose, running one hand over her jiggling breasts and letting the other fall down so that she could run her fingers through the flaxen bush of hair at the base of her snow-white belly.

Phil chuckled openly as she stretched out her hand and rubbed her palm against the swollen bulge in his trousers. 'Oooh, Phil,' she said sweetly. 'Have you put a banana in your pocket or do I really excite you?'

Without waiting for an answer Becky unbuttoned his flies to draw out his thick prick which stood stiffly to attention between her long fingers. She looked at Phil's shaft critically for a moment. Then, grasping it firmly and giving it a friendly squeeze, she turned to Claire and declared: 'H'm, I must say that this is certainly a handsome weapon. But it isn't as big a cock as I had imagined it would be after reading about Phil's naughty escapades with Rosie d'Argosse and Sheena Walshaw in The Cremorne.'

'What on earth do you mean by that?' frowned Phil. But this only made Becky and Claire break out into a fit of giggles. I smiled too because I knew what had caused their merriment. I said soothingly: 'Don't fret, Phil, you evidently haven't read the report on your sexual prowess by Rosie d'Argosse. You can be proud of yourself, old boy, she gave you top marks for quality and quantity. In fact, she wrote that your boner was one of the biggest she had ever entertained in her cunt.'

Now this news might have upset some gentlemen but my best chum had been favoured with a light-hearted sense of humour as well as a goodly amount of savoir faire. He simply joined in the laughter and announced: 'Well, what can I say, girls? I'm sorry if my prick disappoints you but size alone is of very little importance and I am happy enough with the dimensions of the equipment which has been given to me.'

'Well said, Phil,' cried Claire as she bent down and planted a smacking wet kiss on Phil's uncapped purple helmet. 'As the Yankees say, it isn't the size of the ship that counts, it's the motion of the ocean.'

I must confess to feeling slightly irritated at watching the girl I was itching to fuck wrap her lips around Phil's rigid rod, especially when Becky joined in the fun and licked his wrinkled scrotum whilst Claire lustily sucked on his blue-veined shaft.

The only consolation was looking at the ecstatic expression on my chum's face as their moist mouths sent spasms of sheer bliss racing up and down his spine. The feel of their tongues slithering around his cock and balls soon brought him past the point of no return. Phil gasped out a warning that he was about to cum, but Claire made no move to extract his jerking prick from the sweet captivity of her mouth. Indeed, she grasped the firm, muscular cheeks of his bum, moving him backwards and forwards until, with a final juddering throb, he spurted an abundant emission of sticky spunk into her willing mouth. She gulped down his spunk-flood, smacking her lips with gusto as the spicy jism slid down her throat. Phil trembled with delight when Claire pulled back her head, leaving Becky to lick up the last drains of cum whilst Claire and Phil sealed their new bond of friendship with a loving kiss.

Becky had no complaint to make about her friend sucking off her lover, but when she bent down to pick up her clothes, she wrinkled her brow and exclaimed: 'Oh my, Phil, I'm afraid that some of your spend has dribbled onto this lovely Persian rug.'

'That's all right,' he replied cheerfully. 'I'll just pop into the kitchen and get a bottle of Professor Goulthorp's All-Purpose Cleaning Cream. A few dabs with this excellent American product will do the trick.'

Phil hurried out and when he returned he sponged the spunky spots with the pungent liquid. 'Now leave it to dry and within the hour you'll see that the stain will have vanished. Honestly, some enterprising trader would make a small fortune if he gained the rights to import it into this country.'

The four of us then retired to the bedroom where Claire, Phil and I stripped off our clothes. Now, though I say so myself, by nature I am not a jealous kind of chap. But watching Claire gobble Phil's todger had done nothing to stimulate my desire to fuck the lissome girl. Rather the opposite, in fact, for when Phil went out to the toilet, despite the close attentions of both Becky and Claire, my cock obstinately refused to budge from its sorry state of dangling limply between my thighs. The girls tried rubbing and squeezing it and Becky even swirled her tongue up and down the sensitive underside. But to no avail.

'I'll have to bow out of the fun for a little while,' I said sadly as Phil returned, his beefy prick already semi-erect when he bounced onto the bed.

'No, you don't have to do that, Andrew,' said Claire comfortingly. 'You don't necessarily need a stiffie to bring me off, do you?'

How could I have been so foolish! I brightened up and moved across the bed to kneel in front of her as Claire spread her legs invitingly and afforded me a delicious view of her pouting love lips peeping through her thatch of pussey curls. Next, she took hold of my hand and placed it directly onto her hairy mound, purring with pleasure as I ran the tip of my forefinger up and down her long crack.

'Haaagh!' she gasped when without warning I buried my head between her thighs and kissed the opening of her moist honeypot. Almost of their own volition, her legs splayed even wider when my tongue raked across her hardening clitty. I feasted my eyes on the glowing red chink before drawing her cunney lips into my mouth, delighting in the musky feminine odour whilst Claires hips rose and fell with added urgency.

The excited girl groaned with joy as I lapped up the free-flowing love juice which was now pouring out of her cunt. How the honey ran when I nibbled at her clitty. She cried out: 'Fuck me, Andrew! Fuck me, you lovely cunney licker!'

Alas, despite this erotic foreplay, I was still unable to oblige her. I raised my head and sighed: 'I'm dreadfully sorry, Claire, but I'm afraid I just can't get a hard-on. Phil, perhaps you will do the honours for me.'

'Only too glad to help out, my dear chap,' he answered as I scrambled away. With a wolfish growl Phil took my place, mounting the lissome girl who grabbed hold of his cock and guided his knob into her aching quim. Once his cock was snugly inside Claire's snatch, she brought her legs up against the small of Phil's back, humping the lower half of her body to meet the plunges of his pistoning prick. He sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her bum cheeks and then inserted the tip of his finger into her arsehole, making her squeal in fresh ecstasies of erotic fervour as he slammed his throbbing todger in and out of her slick, squelchy cunt.

Claire clawed at his back and jerked her hips upward to pull his cock even further inside her as she screamed: 'A-h-r-e! I'm going to spend, Phil! Cum with me, darling! Empty your balls, you randy rogue!'

Phil bore down on Claire yet again, jamming his bursting tool inside her oily orifice. Then he climaxed in great wheezing shudders as he creamed her cunt with a coating of frothy j ism. Claire squeezed her thighs tightly together to trap Phil's cock inside her until she achieved her own orgasm, and a blissful smile lit up her lovely face as the ecstatic sensations swept through her.

Now Becky turned to me and asked if I would care to fuck her from behind, doggie style-but, to my abject discomfiture, my cock rebuffed her advances even when she fisted my flaccid shaft up and down in her soft hand. So when Phil recovered from his previous exertions, for a second time I was forced to watch my chum take my place as Becky slipped out of bed to stand with her feet on the floor, leaning forward with her arms held straight out and the palms of her hands flat against the wall. Phil followed Becky and stood behind her as the luscious girl thrust out her chubby bum cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he guided his thick prick between the rounded globes and into her juicy quim.

'Yes! Yes! Crack away!' cried out Becky as Phil slewed his sturdy shaft to and fro, squelching a passage in and out of her delicious honeypot. She worked her hips in rhythm with his eager thrusts and spent just as Phil made one last lunge forward, his balls cracking against her thighs as he sent a stream of sticky spunk hurtling into her sopping snatch.

Even the two randy girls had to take a breather after these frenetic fucks and the four of us cuddled up under the eiderdown for a refreshing nap. Of course, by the time I woke up about thirty minutes later my cock was as stiff as could be and fairly aching to slide into a welcoming wet cunney. Alas, this was not possible because Becky and Claire had to be back at the theatre for the first house and I felt quite wretched as we dressed ourselves. Claire kindly said to me that she was sure it was only fatigue which had caused my naughty cock to behave so badly and that all it needed was a good rest to regain its potency.