The Oyster Volume VI

CHAPTER TWO. Lascivious Liaisons

Despite Claire's optimistic forecast that I would soon regain my potency, I refused Phil's offer to take me out for a slap-up dinner at his club, saying I had indeed been overdoing it a bit lately and that an early night would do me good.

When I returned home I was puzzled for a brief moment to find myself alone. Then I remembered that my house-mate Teddy Carmichael would not be back from his trip to Paris until the following afternoon. Gloomily, I searched in the larder for something tasty for my supper and was comforted to find one of Mrs. Pelgram's veal and ham pies. I cut off a generous portion and washed it down with a bottle of Heineken Pilsener lager.

After I finished this meagre meal, I retired to the living-room and picked up one of the manuscripts I had brought home from the office. As Mr. Mac Arthur had forecast, nothing I had yet read had warranted further consideration by an experienced editor at Hartfield and Moser, and I expected nothing to change as I stared balefully at the title page of Modern Daughters by one Miss Abigail Wiggins.

But as I riffled through the pages, I imagined I saw the phrase 'She begged him to fuck her' appear before my eyes. I was so surprised that the script dropped out of my hands onto the floor. Luckily the pages had been stapled together in bunches which I was able to pick up with ease. I turned to the first page where Miss Wiggins had thoughtfully written a summary of the plot and discovered that the story involved a group of wild women from the suffragette movement who would do anything to secure for their sisters the right to vote.

Therefore it was with an unexpected eagerness that I waded into the novel. I discovered that the heroine of the stirring tale was a feisty girl named Danielle who had planned to seduce Sir James Horobin, a junior Government Minister, in order to win his support for the cause, but had fallen hopelessly in love with him and thus placed herself on the horns of an awkward dilemma.

I read with interest how the affair began when she succeeded in attracting the attention of Sir James who had been quickly smitten by her charms. A few days later she accepted his invitation to accompany him to Covent Garden to hear Signor Caruso and Madame Melba in a gala performance of Carmen. Danielle was aware of Sir James's reputation as a ladies' man but, after they had dined at Jackson's Restaurant opposite the Opera House, she agreed to go back with the elegant M.P. to his rooms in nearby Bloomsbury Way. Told in Danielle's own words, the story continued as follows:

Sir James placed a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket and sat down next to me on the sofa. Then he drew me close to him and we exchanged a brief kiss whilst he caressed my body with long, sensual strokes. Gently he took my face in his hands and now we kissed more passionately, our tongues sliding in each other's mouths whilst his hands prowled beneath my clothes, enticing me to surrender to the feel of his fingertips on my tingling skin.

In a low voice he whispered, 'Danielle, I have no right to speak in this way after only such a brief acquaintance, but you have bewitched me, you dear girl. I must tell you desperately I want to make love to you tonight.'

Intrigued and excited by the sensations which were coursing through me, I said nothing, blocking out everything in my mind except for the excitement I felt when Sir James began to undress me. I helped him by scurrying out of my dress and very soon he was passing his lips over my bare breasts, licking and lapping my erect tawny nipples in great style.

Meanwhile I allowed my hand to glide over the huge bulge in his crotch and this aroused Sir James almost beyond endurance. He groaned as I touched the tip of his pulsing prick through the fine material of his black evening trousers. The feel of his cock made me desperate to get rid of whatever separated his body from mine and Sir James smiled whilst I delicately unbuttoned his flies. He slipped off his braces from his shoulders as he breathed: 'Yes, my darling, please release my imprisoned cock or I may well spunk inside my expensive silk drawers.'

'Well, we wouldn't want that to happen, would we? 'I murmured, slipping my hand inside his trousers to pull out his hot swollen shaft which stood bolt upright in salute. Sir James closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a long deep sigh of relief.

He could be justifiably proud of his prick which was one of the largest I had ever seen with a wide ruby knob crowning a thick, barrel-like shaft. I wrapped my fingers around the palpitating pole and gave the ivory column a tiny tug whilst Sir James raised my head upwards. Our mouths melted together again and I trembled all over with unashamed longing for this handsome man to make love to me.

Our lips remained fastened together as we fell back on the sofa and now, secure in the knowledge that he was pleasing me, Sir James journeyed further. Sharing his sense of urgency, I lifted my bottom so he could tug down my knickers. Then he swiftly disrobed and I was able to explore the hard muscular masculinity of his lean body.

Now his hand worked its way inexorably up my thigh towards my groin and two of his fingers slid between my yielding love lips. I lay back and parted my legs to await the arrival of the smooth helmet of Sir James's cock pushing through my eager lust portal and I purred with delight as he continued to press forward into my welcoming wetness.

'Ooooh, that's nice,' I whispered and for a moment our eyes locked together before he covered my mouth with his own. Clutching my bum cheeks in his hands, he inserted the full pulsing length of his lovely thick prick inside my dripping sheath which magically expanded itself to receive its plump visitor. I could hardly speak for my love tunnel was totally filled by him. His cock squished in and out of my honeypot and his balls slapped against my bum as, with a powerful jolt of his loins, he embedded his mighty weapon to the very root.

Reader, I do realize that some measure of modesty should be preserved at all times-even during these ecstatic moments of erotic ecstasy. Yet I am not ashamed to admit that I immediately cried out for Sir James Horobin to thrust his rampant truncheon back inside my juicy cunt when he playfully teased me by pulling out all but the tip of his knob from my tingling notch.

'H-a-a-r! H-a-a-r! H-a-a-r!' he gasped as we fucked away in joyful unison, our bottoms heaving in rhythm as he slewed his sinewy shaft in and out of my luscious crack. 'What an exquisite cunt you have, Danielle! How tightly it clasps my cock! Carry on, my precious, work your bum up and down in time with my thrusts-but not so wildly or I will cum too quickly!'

We lost ourselves in blissful fulfilment as Sir James's throbbing tool pistoned back and forth. I gloried in each of his powerful strokes as my own juices dribbled down my thighs and sprinkled his ballsack. Cupped in his broad palms, the dimpled cheeks of my backside rotated in lascivious rhythm as his magnificent prick rammed home at ever-increasing speed.

Alas, although both of us wanted this superb fuck to continue for ever, Nature was not to be denied and when I felt the initial waves of an approaching spend rising in my cunney, I panted, 'I'm cumming, I'm cumming! I'm almost there! Y-e-s-s-s! Y-e-s-s-s! Y-e-s-s-s!'

'So am I!' croaked Sir James and buried his face in my neck as he began the climb to the highest peaks of pleasure. We were swiftly lost in the delicious throes of a mutual spend and my quim was soon awash with Sir James' sticky spunk as well as with a flood of my own cuntal juices.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night with him and the dear man fucked me three more times before I woke to see the first rays of dawn shining through the curtains of his bedroom. I cradled his head in my arms and smoothed my hand through his hair whilst I reflected on how much I had enjoyed my night with Sir James Horobin, a gentleman who not only possessed a powerful prick but, even more importantly, also took the necessary time and trouble to cater for the needs of his partner as well as his own.

Here the chapter ended. I let out a deep sigh as I carefully placed the script on the floor before unbuttoning my trousers to release my own throbbing todger which had been aching for relief from the moment I began to read Miss Wiggins's manuscript. I squeezed my shaft but, remembering Claire's farewell comment about needing to give my wedding tackle a rest, I resisted the temptation to treat myself to a five-knuckle shuffle.

Not that I believed that tossing off would do me any harm per se. As I have stated in earlier chapters of this unexpurgated autobiography, I am convinced that a great deal of nonsense is talked about 'the solitary vice'. When poor old Teddy Carmichael was caught having one off the wrist while reading The Cremorne by his school chaplain, the benighted cleric ordered him to dip his cock in a glass of cold water every morning as a punishment.

However, it proved impossible for me not to succumb to the blandishments of Sally the lusty chambermaid who-as readers will recall-had promised to come in half an hour earlier the next day for an early morning fuck. I was fast asleep when I was woken out of my slumber by a gentle shaking of my shoulders. As my eyes fluttered open I heard Sally's voice whisper in my ear: 'Hallo there, Mister Andrew. It's half past six and time for some rumpy pumpy.'

'Six o'clock! My God, that's almost the middle of the night!' I yawned as I hauled myself up to a sitting position and watched the buxom girl slip out of her clothes.

'Not for me, it isn't, sir,' commented Sally as she stepped out of her skirt and sat herself down on the bed to roll down her stockings. 'But I'm afraid that's the price of an early morning fuck.'

'Yes, and I'm delighted to pay it,' I said hastily, 'I'm just not used to being roused at this time of day, that's all.'

She gave a sardonic little laugh. 'Hah! I wish I could say the same, Mister Andrew,' she said fervently, 'I always have to get up at six o'clock, come rain or shine, and when I leave here at about ten, I work with my Mum on her market stall in Paddington Street till tea-time. Not that I'm complaining, you understand, all my friends who are in full-time service work much longer hours for the same money than you and Mister Teddy pay me.'

Quite frankly, although I was pleased to be considered a kindly employer, I could take little credit for any liberality because Teddy had made all our domestic arrangements and I simply paid my share of the household expenses. Nevertheless, after hearing Sally's remark, I resolved never to grumble about any small problems that affected my own easy-going lifestyle.

Meanwhile the lusty lass finished undressing. The sight of her nubile nude body sent my cock shooting up as she pulled back the sheets to slide herself into bed next to me. I had slept without a nightshirt as it had been a warm night and automatically I covered my crotch with my hands. This caused an impish smile to form on Sally's lips as she said: 'Now then, Mister Andrew, why are you being so bashful? It's not as if I've never seen your naughty bits-crikey, have you forgotten already that I not only tossed you off yesterday but that I also gave your prick a nice juicy gobble before you fucked me!'

'Sally, you're absolutely right and I am well rebuked,' I said firmly as I took the impudent girl in my arms. 'What can I do to apologize?'

'Well, you've had my cunney and I've tasted your cock so why don't you give my bum a good seeing-to?' she answered brightly as she scrambled to her knees and jiggled her luscious bum cheeks.

'There's nothing I'd like better,' I declared as I heaved myself up to place myself behind her but Sally said: 'Hold on a moment, Mister Andrew. Your cock is so thick that you'll need to lubricate it first. Pomade would be very suitable.'

I jumped off the bed and rushed across the room to pick up ajar of Golden Macassar Oil from my dressing table. I lobbed it back to Sally who unscrewed the top. As soon as I returned she slicked such a liberal amount of the greasy liquid on my shaft that my balls threatened to release their spermy contents before my tool had even begun to burrow its way between Sally's jouncy buttocks.

To prevent such a disaster, I gritted my teeth and forced my brain to concentrate upon answering a question so tedious that the flow of j ism would reverse itself back to my scrotum. The problem I set myself was how many English towns I could think of whose names began with the letter B. As usual, this stratagem did not fail me and I recommend it to any gentleman who wishes to hold back his cum until his bed-mate is ready to receive his spunky libation.

Be that as it may, once I had overcome this hurdle, I parted the young chambermaid's bum cheeks and slid my knob straight into her miniature starfish-shaped rear dimple. Thanks to Sally's anointment of my prick with pomade I was able to slip my shaft directly into the narrow sheath until it was completely embedded inside her bottom and my balls swung against the backs of her upper thighs.

Holding onto her shoulders, I began to bum-fuck the voluptuous girl with long, deep strokes, raising the tempo from lento to andante and building up the speed to an inevitable furioso. Together we rode the wind as I slid my greasy cock backwards and forwards. It was clear from Sally's high-pitched yelps and the artful wriggling of her beautiful backside that she was enjoying herself as much as I was.

'Go on, sir, shove it in as far up as you can! Then wrap your arm around my waist and play with my quim,' she cried out. This I was, naturally, happy to do. A veritable flood of love juice flowed out of Sally's cunt when I twiddled her clitty and the contractions of her back passage soon brought a torrential discharge of seed spurting out of my cock into her bottom.

'Oh yes, yes, what a lovely cum! Whoooh! Keep frigging my cunney, Mister Andrew, I'm cumming too!' shrieked Sally who almost fainted away as, with a last maddened shudder, she spent copiously over my hand. I furiously pumped out the final creamy drainings of my spunk and with a 'pop' pulled out my shrinking shaft from the sticky embrace of her arse. I rolled over onto my back, my chest heaving up and down as I recovered my breath after these salacious exertions.

Yet, despite this tremendous cum, my cock was still semi-erect as it swung lazily between my thighs. When Sally squeezed my shaft and fisted it up and down in her clenched hand, my treacherous truncheon stood up again as stiff as a poker! Sally relinquished her grip on my tool briefly to go and fetch a bowl of warm water, some soap and a flannel. She washed my now rampant rod with slow, caressing movements, teasing it with sensual strokes until I felt almost on the brink of another spend.

So why hadn't my prick swollen up to its full majestic height for the lovely Claire only a few hours ago, I asked myself silently. But there was no time to ponder on this question because Sally had now clasped my cock between both her hands. I could feel my scrotum tightening as she said: 'Well, Mister Andrew, I must say that you do have a thick todger. It looks good enough to eat, so if you have no objection…'

Sally's voice trailed off and in a trice her tousled head was between my legs. I let out a gasp of delight when she kissed my cock and washed the uncapped helmet with long slow swirls of her pink wet tongue. The hot-blooded young minx looked up at me with a smile on her pretty face and then, bringing her mouth down over my bell-end, she ran the tip of her tongue along the length of my throbbing tool, sending electric shock waves through every fibre of my body.

These erotic sensations were heightened as Sally continued to suck my cock with great relish, cleverly moving her mouth along my shaft to cover every inch of my palpitating prick. At the same time I hauled myself up and slid my hand between her bum cheeks to diddle her clitty as she lightly grazed the wrinkled skin of my scrotum with her fingernails, smoothing her hand gently underneath my ballsack. Soon I began to tremble all over when I felt the approach of a searing wave which was building up at an ever-quickening pace inside me.

My cock started to shiver uncontrollably as Sally's sweet wet tongue slid up and down the sensitive underside of my swollen shaft. I cried out hoarsely: 'I'm cumming, Sally! I'm going to shoot all my sticky spunk down your throat, you ravishing little vixen!'

This lewd warning seemed to make Sally suck even more frantically on my quivering cock and within seconds a fountain of creamy jism spurted out of my prick into her receptive mouth. Sally smacked her lips as she gulped down every last drop of my tangy seed.

I fell back on the bed utterly exhausted from this second ejaculation of my vital fluids but well pleased that, when called upon to perform its party piece, my cock had not repeated its embarrassing reluctance of the day before. For when all was said and done, it didn't matter a jot whether one had the thickest or the longest chopper in the entire country so long as one could count on simply having a prick which worked to order. With this comforting thought in my mind I slipped into a pleasant after-fuck doze but was soon woken by my insatiable bed-mate shaking my shoulder.

'For heaven's sake, Sally,' I spluttered irritably. 'You surely don't expect me to shag you again so soon.'

When she saw the look of annoyance on my face, she put her forefinger on my lips and said apologetically: 'Oh, Mister Andrew, of course not, my cunney needs a rest just as much as your cock. Please don't be cross with me, but I want to ask you to do me a very personal favour.'

I raised my eyebrows and enquired: 'A personal favour, eh? And just what might that be?'

Even though we were alone in the house, Sally cupped her hand around my ear and whispered: 'Don't be shocked, sir, but I want you to shave the hair around my pussey.'

I was staggered by this extraordinary suggestion and, being rather fond of twirling my fingers inside a hirsute bush of cuntal curls, I tried to dissuade her from this drastic course of action. However, Sally was not to be dissuaded and she insisted: 'Doesn't a hairless notch appeal to you, sir? My boy friend prefers my slit to be shaved when he brings me off with his tongue. He calls it a shaven haven and I must say that I find it very exciting to look at my bare pussey in the mirror,'

She kissed me on the cheek and added: 'Come on, sir, be a sport. Whilst you were having your nap, I took the liberty of putting out a fresh bowl of hot water, a pair of scissors and a safety razor.'

Well now, I thought to myself, it would be easy enough to remove Sally's fluffy thatch and if this was what she really wanted me to do, it would be churlish not to oblige the girl. So I shrugged my shoulders and said: 'Lead on then, Sally, I'll be happy to shave off your pussey hair.'

'Oh thank you, Mister Andrew,' she beamed happily as she jumped out of bed. Although I still felt slightly apprehensive about the proposed operation, I followed Sally into the bathroom.

'This is the first time I've ever done this, but I'll do my best not to nick your skin,' I said as she stood stark naked on the bathmat with her legs slightly apart while I carefully clipped her curly thatch with a small pair of scissors. When I had finished, I spread my best shaving soap-Guerlain's Creme d'Amandes-on a new badger-hair shaving brush and, after thoroughly sponging her crotch with warm water, I spread a blanket of creamy lather all over the remaining patch of pussey hair.

My cock began to thicken whilst I carefully shaved around Sally's puffy pink cunney lips with a safety razor. I was sporting a full-blown stiffie by the time I cleaned off the remaining hairs with a flannel and handed her a mirror to inspect my handiwork.

'Well done, sir, you've done an excellent job,' said Sally gratefully and unfortunately my good resolution not to over-tire my cock flew out of my mind when she grasped hold of my boner and led me back to the bedroom. She laid herself down on the eiderdown and stuffed a pillow under her bum to elevate her crotch as I leaped on the bed between her outstretched legs and buried my face between her thighs to chew and nibble on her cunney lips.

'Don't you find it easier to lick my pussey now?' she chuckled. It was certainly true enough that there were no stray hairs to get into my mouth whilst I sucked her sopping snatch. So I pulled my head up and panted: 'Yes, I must agree that a shaved quim tastes even better.'

Then I resumed my tonguing. Sally threshed her buxom young body from side to side as I flicked the fleshy bud of her clitty until, with a high-pitched scream of delight, she achieved her climax and filled my mouth with a flood of salty cuntal juice.

'Oooh, what a gorgeous spend! I love being brought off like that, but not many men can use their tongues as cleverly as you can, Mister Andrew,' she gasped huskily as she slid her hands underneath my shoulders and pulled me up over her. 'Now fuck me with your thick prick and fill my quim with jism.'

Naturally, I was eager to comply with this demand. When I substituted the bulbous knob of my cock for my mouth, Sally thrust her hips upwards as my throbbing tool squished its way into her clingy wet crack. She threw her legs over my back and heaved her body in time with me as we commenced a lively fuck. Despite her juicy lubrication, Sally's cunt was still exquisitely tight, holding me in such a sweet vice that I could feel my foreskin being drawn backwards and forwards with each shove as my cock slid into the folds of her shaven slit.

'Go on, sir, go on!' she beseeched me when I paused for a moment to catch my breath. 'Fuck me harder, Mister Andrew! Slam in you cock! H-a-a-r! That's it, sir, I'm there, I'm there!'

I lunged forward one last time. My balls slapped against her bum cheeks as, with a growl, I spurted a stream of spunk into her cunt. I wriggled my twitching tool around inside her quim as the creamy jism gushed out of my knob, making Sally scream out joyfully as she achieved a second delicious spend.

This lively fuck exhausted even this insatiable girl. Once she had recovered her composure, at my request she ran me a hot bath which I shared with her before we went downstairs. I read the newspaper while Sally prepared breakfast.

Afterwards I decided to catch up with some outstanding correspondence (I owed my parents the monthly letter I had promised to send them). But no sooner had I sat down at the desk in the library than Sally came in with the top buttons of her blouse undone and sat herself on my lap.

'Mr. Andrew, I'm sorry to disturb you but I still feel so randy,' she said playfully while she took hold of my hand and slipped it inside her blouse. 'Can you spare the time for just one more poke before Mister Teddy comes back from Paris?'

I wasn't angry with the lusty girl but my cock refused to rise as I cupped one of her pert breasts in my hand. I released the quivering globe and shook my head, 'I'm sorry, Sally, that won't be possible. I have some important letters to write and then I'll be going out.'

She was clearly disappointed and said anxiously as she slid off my lap: 'You're not giving me the brush-off, are you?'

'No, of course not, you can wake me up like you did this morning any time you want,' I said, thinking how foolish I had been to ignore the advice of my father which he had given me along with a ten-pound note on my last birthday. 'Never form liaisons with the servant girls, Andrew,' he had said solemnly, if for no other reason than that if you poke one, it will invariably end in tears.'

However, I was more concerned to hear what my physician, Doctor Jonathan Elstree, had to say about my prick's refusal to obey orders and I marched out into the hall to telephone his surgery. Except in cases of emergency, it was usually impossible to make an appointment on the same day but luckily there had been a cancellation and he was able to fit me in at noon. The sun was still shining so I decided to walk to the good doctor's rooms in Harley Street. However, before I left the house, I also telephoned Mr. MacArthur at Hartfield and Moser as I couldn't wait till Wednesday to see his face when he scanned the pages of Miss Abigail Wiggins's risque manuscript!

Mr. MacArthur was at a meeting but his secretary said that he would be in his office after luncheon. So I popped the manuscript into a holdall along with the single yet unopened letter for me which had arrived in the morning post. After saying good-bye to Sally, I set off to see Doctor Elstree, a physician who could certainly tell a few fascinating stories if he ever broke his Hippocratic oath and revealed the secrets of certain high-placed members of London Society.

Far from being tired from the strenuous indoor exercises with Sally, I felt fighting fit and there was a jaunty spring in my step as I mulled over the events of the morning in my mind whilst I strolled through Portman Square. However, when I arrived at Doctor Elstree's rooms almost spot on twelve o'clock, I was slightly disappointed to be informed by his receptionist that he had been called out on an emergency soon after I had spoken to him.

She looked at her watch and added: 'My apologies for the delay, Mr. Scott, but he only had to go round the corner to Devonshire Street and he telephoned just now to say he would be back in about twenty-five minutes. So if you would care to take a seat in the waiting-room, he'll be able to see you as soon as he returns because the lady he was supposed to examine at eleven-thirty didn't want to stay and made a new appointment.'

'Fair enough, I've something to read while I wait,' I said and marched through to the waiting-room. After fishing out my letter from my case, I sat myself in an armchair to read it. I opened the envelope and was pleasantly surprised to find that it had been sent by the aptly-named Hilary Pokingham, one of my first conquests with whom I had kept on friendly terms after our romance had ended some three years ago. Nevertheless, we still corresponded on an irregular basis and, as the pair of us had agreed, whenever we wrote to each other we penned in great detail all the juicy details of our current love life! So, with a grin on my face, I settled down and perused Hilary's epistle which, after asking after my health, continued in the following fashion:

As for me, Andrew, I've been bored silly these last two weeks stuck with the family in our country house in the wilds of deepest Herefordshire. However, relief came last week with the arrival for a weekend's shooting of Major William Bucknall of the Honourable Artillery Company and my ennui was shattered in a most delightful way by this gallant soldier.

Before I recount my naught adventure with Willie Bucknall, let me tell you that he is forty-four-more than twice my age-and is thus the oldest gentleman ever to have poked me. But believe me, dear Andrew, I can now say from experience that there is much truth in the saying about how the best tunes are played on old fiddles!

So now I will tell you exactly how Willie and I came to find ourselves entwined together in the nude on top of a pile of straw in our stables! He had arrived earlier than the other guests on the Thursday evening because, like myself, he is a keen water-colourist and wished to spend a day with a brush, palette and easel before going out to bag a brace of quail. So after breakfast on Friday morning I offered to take him to the banks of the River Teme where he would have a marvellous view of the beautiful rolling hills around us.

Willie thanked me and as we strolled through our grounds he regaled me with a string of fascinating anecdotes about what has been happening in London lately, for it must be admitted that Willie is not only well-connected but is also a shameless gossip. In fact, we were both roaring with laughter about a tale he had heard about the recent exploits of your friend Lord Philip Pelham at the Jim Jam Club when Willie unluckily placed his foot in some very fresh evidence of a herd of cows having passed by not long before us.

He ripped out a colourful oath and his artists case went flying as he executed a wild ballet before he fell awkwardly to the ground. I rushed over to assist him to his feet but Willie had twisted his right ankle quite badly and even when leaning on my shoulder, the poor man could only walk with great difficulty.

As fate would have it, the wind now began to freshen appreciably and a grey cloud scudded over the sun. I said to him: 'Look, let's get you over to the stables where you can rest whilst I run to the house and bring a couple of servants to help you back.'

'I think that might be best, Hilary,' he replied as he bent down to pick up his case. 'I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble!

'Oh, that's all right, Willie, accidents will happen,' I said. As I assisted him to hobble towards the stable door the first drops of a sharp summer shower pattered down upon us.

'Ah, that's much better! he sighed with relief when I helped him sit down on a pile of fresh straw. 'My ankle only hurts when I put any pressure on it. So there's no need for you to get soaked, Hilary: wait till the rain dies away before you make your way back to the house!

'Very well,' I agreed. Then I suddenly realized that at least this unfortunate situation gave me the perfect opportunity to practise my skill at Chinese massage, a technique which had recently been shown to me by none other than Lady Molly Southard at one of Johnny Wood's wild parties in Chelsea before I was summoned back home. Of course, being Molly she was only interested in massaging my pussey. But in the end she did agree to demonstrate this technique-which she had learned on her visit to Hong Kong last year-on a less private part of my anatomy.

'Well, I don't suppose it could do any harm,' said Willie doubtfully. But he complied with my instruction to divest himself of his shoes, socks and of course his trousers which were badly soiled with cow dung whilst I took off my jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my dress.

'Now just lie back and relax,' I said and, laying my hands carefully around his lower leg, I began to massage the affected ankle. At first Willie grimaced with pain but after a minute or so he remarked: 'My dear Hilary, there's no doubt about it, you have been blessed with healing hands. My ankle feels much less painful already'

I smiled at him and replied: 'I'm so pleased, Willie. It's a simple enough technique used in the Orient by friends to ease away aches and pains.

'The girl who taught it to me says that it is also a wonderful way to enhance friendships,' I added softly as I moved my hands up to stroke his muscular thighs. I could see the outline of what appeared to be a sizeable cock begin to twitch against the white cotton of his drawers.

Willie looked at me with a twinkle in his steely grey eyes as he murmured: ' “Voila ou menent les chemins du plaisir.”

'The paths of pleasure lead here,' I translated, showing him that my stay at an expensive Swiss finishing school for Young Ladies had not been entirely wasted. There was a brief silence. Then he took me in his arms and our mouths clamped together in a passionate open-mouthed kiss. Willie's tongue thrust sinuously against mine as we rolled together in the straw. In no time at all he had opened up my blouse and pulled down the straps of my chemise to expose the firm swell of my bare bosom to his lustful gaze.

We helped each other ease off our clothes. I shuddered with desire when Willie's head moved down towards my breasts and his wicked tongue curled over their hardening tips. As you might remember, my nipples have always been terribly sensitive and my pussey began to moisten as he sucked on one erect bud while tweaking the other between his fingers. I was further aroused when I reached down to clasp his stiff shaft which was throbbing insistently against my leg for Willies cock was indeed something special: it was so thick that I could scarcely wrap my fingers around the blue-veined barrel of his shaft.

I licked my lips as I capped and uncapped this fiery red-headed truncheon and, foregoing any further preliminaries, I lowered my head and began to suck lustily on this delicious sweetmeat. Willie moaned with pleasure as I washed his knob with saliva and licked and lapped all round the ridge of his helmet whilst his palm rubbed against my damp bush of pussey hair. Gradually we moved into the soixante-neuf position and when my crotch was level with his face he pressed his lips against my pouting slit and wiggled his tongue inside my tingling cunney. He licked out my love funnel with stylish aplomb, lapping up the freely flowing juices which were now gushing out of my excited cunt.

However, just as my pussey was about to explode into orgasm, Willie lifted his face from between my thighs and pulled my lips away from his pulsating prick. I let out a kittenish miaow of protest but Willie swallowed hard and said in a husky voice: 'I'm sorry, Hilary, but I can only cum once these days and I desperately want to make love to you.'

'That would be very nice,' I replied as I caressed his quivering cock. 'So tell me how you want to do so.'

He caressed my breasts as he continued: 'I want to fuck you at the gallop, you ravishing creature. I'm going to cram my cock into your squelchy slit and pump my prick in and out of your juicy snatch.'

'Yes! Yes! Yes!' I hissed into his ear. 'My cunney will cling to your cock and we'll cum together in a glorious spend!'

With a low growl, Willie rolled me over on my back. I lay trembling with desire, my legs apart, as he grasped his colossal cock and rubbed the huge head up and down against my puffy pussy lips.

Now, Andrew, you know that I have sampled perhaps more than my fair share of pricks, but I must tell you that I was genuinely worried that my little quim would not be able to accommodate Major William Bucknall's formidable weapon. Happily, though, my fear quickly proved to be unfounded and when he pressed home, my sopping sheath expanded to receive his massive member. I was overwhelmed by the exquisite sensations as slowly but surely he gained entry into my eager cunt.

Strands of his pubic hair entangled with mine as our groins touched and Willie whispered: 'I'm fully in you, every inch of me-and now I'm going to fuck you, my sweet girl.'

'Go on, then, fuck my arse off if you can,' I replied saucily, wrapping my legs around his tight bum cheeks whilst Willie slewed his superb shaft to and fro. We began what was to be a glorious fuck at a leisurely speed, lingering over each delicious stroke.

Then he quickened the tempo. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts and love juices started to pour out of my cunt as his rock-hard rod squished its way in and out of my dripping snatch.

'Haaah! Go on, big boy!' I gasped as the gallant soldier speeded up the pace to a wild, frenetic pumping. I squealed with delight as my pussey pulsed furiously around Willies colossal column as we fucked away in a savage, tempestuous rhythm.

'Oh God! What a wonderful fucker you are, Willie!' I whispered breathlessly. 'But I'm ready to spend, darling, so you can cream my little cunney whenever you like!'

'I'm almost there myself he panted. 'Watch out, Hilary, here it comes!'

As his huge cock began to vibrate I felt the approach of the first tiny spasms of my own spend and then — whoosh! — I screamed with joy as my climax arrived just as Willie spurted a copious emission of frothy cum into my cunt. Billowing waves of ecstasy flowed out throughout my body from my saturated slit. Then to my surprise I felt a second sticky gush of spunk burst out of his knob while Willie shot another jet of jism inside me. What a man! What a cock! I would have loved to stay in the stables with him until his shaft had recovered its strength for another fuck, but the rain had stopped and one of the grooms might soon have come by to take out a horse for my father who often takes a mid-morning ride around the estate.

However, after everyone had retired later that night, Willie crept into my bedroom and we spent the wee small hours in fucking and sucking to our mutual pleasure. You will be pleased to know that by the morning Willie's ankle was much improved and only a colourful bruise advertised his accident which he agreed with me was well worth the discomfort.

'It only goes to show the truth in the old maxim that there's no gain without pain,' he commented, stealing back to his room before the servants came upstairs with trays of early morning tea.

I must close now, Andrew. Write back soon and tell me all about your own latest amatory adventures. But make sure you keep some spunk in your balls for me when we see each other next moth at Richard Tuckers birthday bash.

All my love

Hilary

I laid down her explicit letter and gave a little chuckle as I mopped beads of perspiration from my brow. Gad! Hilary was quite a girl, always ready to call a spade a spade-or in her case, as Teddy Carmichael once acidly remarked, to call it a bloody shovel.

With excellent timing, the receptionist came into the waiting room just as I folded Hilary's letter back into my pocket. She announced that Doctor Elstree had just returned and was ready to see me.

She escorted me through to his surgery where my physician was busy washing his hands. 'Hallo there, Andrew, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Lady Gaiman wasn't due to give birth till tomorrow but her son had other ideas. Still, she won't grumble especially as she was lucky enough to have a short labour and a nice easy birth.

'So what can I do for you, young man?' he asked as he waved me to a chair and sat down behind his desk. 'You look healthy enough to me.'

'Well, as it happens I do feel very well,' I said and then paused to pass my hand slowly across my mouth. 'There's nothing physically wrong with me, as such. Um, it's rather embarrassing, really, you see-'

'All right, say no more. What's wrong with your prick?' Doctor Elstree interrupted me. 'It is something about your prick which has brought you here, am I right?' When I nodded wordlessly he added: 'Now, I can't believe you've been foolish enough to consort with low women, so what exactly is the matter with your todger, Andrew? Crabs, a red rash round your shaft or some other similar complaint?'

'No, no, nothing like that,' I said hastily and proceeded to tell him how, on the previous afternoon, my rebellious member had failed to rise to the occasion at Lord Philip Pelham's apartment.

'I see,' said the good doctor. I might have imagined it but I thought I detected a twinkle in his eye when he went on: 'Well, I doubt very much if there's anything really wrong with your tool. Still, I'd better have a look at it to make sure all is in working order. Go behind that screen, drop your trousers and I'll be with you in a jiffy.'

I did as he asked and sure enough, after a brief examination and a few questions about my recent sexual encounters, he said; 'Just as I thought, there's nothing to worry about. Mind you, if there were any problems, I realize what a tragedy it would be for a sophisticated young chap like yourself. After all, your cock would really be in danger of dropping off through over-use if there were any justice in the world.'

He leaned back in his chair and grinned at me as he continued: if I subscribed to some of my colleagues' more peculiar ideas, my diagnosis would be that you were suffering from satyriasis, the name given to what they would call an abnormally intense desire for sexual intercourse. But then, I happen to believe that this affliction affects us all to some degree, so there's absolutely no need to panic!

'Actually, that's the most important rule to keep in mind if ever this condition occurs again. In your case, Andrew, I am certain that the inability of your prick to perform was caused solely through physical tiredness. Remember, men reach the peak of their sexual prowess at eighteen and I'm afraid that even at the tender age of twenty-three, you possibly can't fuck for hours and hours without a break like you could five years ago. But I'll wager a pound to a penny that you now possess greater control, have more knowledge of l'arte de faire l'amour and your amorata enjoy themselves far more since you gained the experience essential to extract the maximum pleasure from activities between the sheets.'

Doctor Elstree clearly welcomed an opportunity to ride his hobby-horse and I later discovered that he had written a paper on this delicate subject for an illustrious American journal. He rose from his chair as he declared: 'A number of gentlemen with similar worries to your own have come to see me and in almost every case the difficulty was solely in the mind.

'Nervousness is often a key factor. As I told a patient only a few days ago, it is only natural to feel slightly apprehensive before intercourse if it happens to be the first time you have ever fucked the lady. You may even have drunk a little too much to steady your nerves. Or in this particular case because he was worried that his lover's husband might return home early and catch the pair of them in flagrante delicto!

'Anyhow, my advice to you is simple enough-you should give up fucking for a couple of days, take yourself off to the country for a week or so and have a damned good rest. Take my word for it, that will refresh you more than any pills or potions which I could prescribe. And I guarantee you'll come back to town so completely revitalized that you'll fuck the arse off any girl who tickles your fancy'

'Thank you, doctor,' I said. When I stood up to leave, he patted me on the back and said: 'My pleasure, dear boy, I only wish I could cure all my other patients so easily. Goodbye then, Andrew, and please pass on my kindest regards to your parents when you next write to them.'

'I certainly will, sir,' I promised him as we shook hands. I left the surgery quite elated by Doctor Elstree's professional confirmation of Claire's opinion that all I needed was a short spell far from the madding crowd to restore my cock's ability to perform on demand.

It was now nearly one o'clock so I walked briskly down towards Oxford Circus where I bought an afternoon newspaper and sat down to a light luncheon of tomato soup, fried fish and chipped potatoes and a vanilla ice, washed down by a pint of bottled beer, in a nearby small restaurant. The service had been friendly and efficient so, even though I thought that the three shillings that it cost was somewhat on the steep side, I was fumbling in my pocket for a sixpence to leave the waiter a generous gratuity when I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I looked up to see the face of Sid Cohen, the Jim Jam Club's bookmaker looking down at me.

'Hallo there, Mister Scott, studying form for the big race at Kempton Park tomorrow?' he enquired, jabbing his finger at the newspaper which I had left open on the sports page. 'Your chum Mr. Carmichael has put a fiver on the favourite, Fletcher's Folly, at seven to two. Do you want something on it too? She's a fine little filly but between ourselves I don't think she'll stay for a mile and a half. Still, it's up to you, of course.'

'Well, let's see,' I said as I cast an eye over the page and then turned sharply away before jabbing my thumb down onto the list of runners. 'No, I won't back Teddy Carmichael's horse, as I've picked What A Cracker to earn a few bob for me. What sort of price will you give me, Sid?'

'Twenty-five to one, as it's you, sir,' he answered. I pulled out a sovereign and gave it to him saying: 'Yes, and the nag would be thirty to one to anyone else! Still, I'm feeling lucky today so I'll have a pound on the nose, please.'

'As you like, Mister Scott,' he shrugged as he slipped the coin into his pocket. 'Sure you wouldn't prefer to have ten bob each way? Because you've chosen a rank outsider, even though Martin Neild's a good jockey and will give the others a run for their money, especially if the going stays soft.'

'No, thank you, Sid,' I said lightly as I looked at my watch. 'Just leave the winnings with the porter at the Jim Jam Club on Saturday night, I could do with the twenty-five smackers.'

'So could I,' said the bookmaker with a friendly grin. 'That's fine with me, I'll be only to happy to pay you out at the Jim Jam if What A Cracker does the trick for you. I might even throw in a bottle of champagne because I've probably taken more than I should on Fletcher's Folly and we'll both be celebrating if What A Cracker wins the blooming race.'

'I'll hold you to that promise,' I said as I picked up my holdall, walked out of the restaurant and jumped on a passing omnibus to Bedford Square. As we rattled our way down Oxford Street I chuckled to myself as I wondered how Geoffrey MacArthur might react to Abigail Wiggins's steamy manuscript. There was still a happy smile on my face as I opened the front door of Hartfield and Moser's offices.

I made my way to my employer's office but neither he nor Miss Thompson, his personal secretary, were to be seen. I was about to sit down and wait for their return when a typist came in and told me that Mr. MacArthur had taken Miss Thompson to the third floor boardroom for a private conference, leaving strict instructions that they were not to be disturbed. 'Well, on my head be it, but I must interrupt them for just a couple of moments because it would be best not to leave this particular manuscript lying around. Don't worry, I know where to go,' I said to her as I picked up my bag.

So I trudged up the stairs, the thick carpeting muffling the sound of my footsteps, although when I reached the third floor the silence was broken by a familiar gasping noise that emanated from behind the frosted glass door of the boardroom. There was no mistaking these sounds and a wide grin spread across my face as I realized just why Mr. MacArthur had not wanted to be disturbed! I would have wagered a thousand pounds with Sid Cohen that, rather than planning the publication schedule for the busy Autumn months, my boss was engaged in a rattling good fuck with Miss Thompson, his attractive assistant who had always caught my eye on my weekly visits to the office.

It was inconceivable that the raunchy couple had forgotten to bolt the door so I shamelessly dropped down to my knees and peered through the key-hole. A scene which instantly confirmed my suspicions about this 'private conference' met my gaze!

The large mahogany table had been cleared of all papers and lying across it, stark naked, was Mr. MacArthur. His somewhat corpulent belly sagged without the restriction of the abdominal belt I saw lying across the back of a chair, but he could still be proud of the state of his thick prick which was standing up smartly enough and looked to be in fine fettle. Keeping his pulsing cock as stiff as a poker was Miss Thompson who was standing at his side and whose outstretched hand was rubbing his rigid rod. She occasionally varied the frigging by bending down and planting a wet kiss on his bared helmet. The pretty slim brunette was only half dressed, because Mr. MacArthur had undone the top buttons of her dress: her pert breasts had freed themselves and jiggled saucily up and down, mouth-wateringly ripe for the touch of lips or fingers.

'Rub harder, Annabel, there's a good girl,' grunted Mr. MacArthur. 'Ah yes, that's lovely. Now put your other hand round my balls and give them a gentle squeeze.'

Annabel Thompson obliged the managing editor of Hart field and Moser by caressing his ballsack in her hand while she continued to toss him off until, with a hoarse growl, Mr. MacArthur shuddered and a fountain of frothy jism shot our from the 'eye' of his knob, drenching her hands and liberally anointing the boardroom table.

'Oh dear, I hope the charwoman will be able to get rid of those spunky stains,' she remarked, sliding her hand up and down his shaft to milk the last drops of spermy cum from Mr. MacArthur's twitching tool.

I would have liked to call out to them that a dab or two of Professor Goulthorpe's Ail-Purpose Cleaner would remove all traces of their audacious tryst, but this would hardly have been wise in the circumstances. So I said nothing and kept my eye glued to the key-hole.

'Fuck the charwoman,' said Mr. MacArthur thickly as he pulled Annabel towards him and manoeuvred his hands round her back to unbutton the remaining buttons of her dress.

'That's a job for you rather than me,' she giggled as she stepped out of her dress and pulled her slip over her head. 'My word, Geoffrey, your prick has only gone down a little bit. How does a man of your age manage to keep himself so virile?'

Naturally, Mr. MacArthur was flattered by this compliment. He winked at her and said: 'It may merely be the luck of the draw, I suppose, but for what it's worth, I've found that eating only a light breakfast and taking regular exercise keeps me fighting fit. Now, my dear Annabel, if you would just give my cock a little suck whilst you take off your knickers, I think you'll find I'll be more than ready to fuck the arse off you.'

The willing girl obeyed and swirled her tongue over his knob whilst she divested herself of her drawers. Then she let out a tiny squeal as Mr. MacArthur pulled her up onto the table next to him and, grabbing her luscious bottom, pressed his mouth against hers. Annabel responded by wrapping her arms around him. However, Mr. MacArthur drew back to feast his eyes on her jutting young breasts and on the curly fleece of chestnut hair which covered her cuntal mount.

He slowly moved himself on top of her and pressed her knees apart to admire the glistening moist folds of her cunt. Holding his throbbing tool in his hand, he placed his straining bell-end between her puffy pussey lips and guided his cock into her juicy crack.

'Ahhh!' groaned Mr. MacArthur, swivelling round on the table so that his back was now directly in front of me as he slid into Annabel's slippery sheath. He began to fuck the delectable girl with short bucking movements, making his buttocks wobble in a sensual animated rhythm. She matched him thrust for thrust and they were soon rocking so fiercely that they seemed in danger of falling to the floor!

Her legs shook and trembled but it became clear that Mr. MacArthur would be first to cross the finishing line when he growled: 'I'm going to shoot into you now, Annabel! That's it, my girl, frig my cock with your magic little cunney muscles!'

'Yes! Yes! Oh, Geoffrey, I'm cumming with you!' she howled as she continued to squirm under the surging strokes of his pulsing prick.

'I'm spunking, Annabel! Feel it! Take it all!' he panted breathlessly. The raunchy pair moaned in a voluptuous orchestration of lustful sighs as they climaxed together. Mr. MacArthur pumped jet after jet of love juice into his secretary's eager quim as she gripped his bum cheeks and pulled his spurting shaft deeper inside her.

Now I would do myself a kindness by drawing a veil over the next minute or so. But I promised to set down an uncensored account of my private life so I will record the fact that, as I moved back a step to straighten up from my eavesdropping position at the door, I tripped over my holdall and a wordless cry escaped from my lips as I went down with a thud onto the carpet.

I scrambled to my feet but, of course, Annabel and Mr. MacArthur were now aware that there was somebody outside. I heard Annabel shout out in panic: 'Who's there? Who's there?'

'It's only me, Andrew Scott,' I called back and, after giving a perfunctory knock on the door, I attempted to open it, not expecting for one second to find it open.

However, to my astonishment, it became plain that Mr. MacArthur had forgotten to take the most elementary precaution against being discovered and had left the door unlocked. I sailed into the room to catch my boss ejaculating the final drops of his spunky emission into Annabel's cunt.

To his credit, my boss instantly hauled himself up and attempted to shield Annabel's naked body with his own. 'Andrew, would you please wait for me downstairs in my office,' he said coolly with an admirable level of composure in his voice, 'I will be with you as soon as possible but you must allow me time to get dressed.'

'Of course, sir,' I murmured and backed out of the room, taking care to close the door firmly behind me.

Five minutes later he came into his office together with Annabel whose face was flushed. She was the first to speak, blurting out her apologies, but I held up my hand and interrupted her by declaring: 'Please say no more, Miss Thompson, you had no reason to expect me to breach your privacy. Why, I shouldn't even be in the office today! So if any apology is due it should be from me for my unwelcome intrusion.'

Naturally this fine speech impressed Mr. MacArthur who told Annabel to make the three of us a nice pot of tea. After she had scurried out of the office, he turned to me and shook me warmly by the hand. 'Thank you, my boy. I said to Miss Thompson as we came downstairs that I knew you could be relied on to be discreet.

'How could I have been so foolish? It was almost criminally stupid not to have locked the door. My goodness, it's as well that it was you who caught us in the act and not someone like our chairman who would affect great shock and displeasure at my immoral behaviour and then demand my immediate resignation.'

I gave a wry smile. 'Would he really? Well, that's not my style and not only because I too have been surprised in a similar embarrassing situation. No, it is because, in my experience, moral indignation is often simple jealousy with the addition of a halo instead of a hat!'

'I couldn't agree more though, to be fair to Lord Neumann, I don't know whether that stricture would apply as far as he is concerned,' said Mr. MacArthur as he plumped himself down in his chair. 'Still, I've learned my lesson, Andrew. If I ever manage to persuade Annabel up to the boardroom again, I'll make damned sure to lock the blasted door! It's not as if either of us are married but as Moliere's sardonic little couplet puts it: “Le scandale du monde est ce qui fait l'offence: et ce n 'est pas pecher que pecher en silence.”'

Mr. MacArthur let out a thoughtful sigh and continued: 'Anyhow, what brings you here today, Andrew? Are you going to tell me you have found a nugget amongst the dross of the “slush” pile?'

'Well, I don't know if this novel could be called a nugget,' I said doubtfully as I unbuckled the catch on my holdall and passed Miss Wiggins's manuscript across the desk to him. 'But it's certainly very different from anything else I've been given to read.'

However, somewhat to my chagrin, Mr. MacArthur only glanced at the top page before handing the sheaf of paper back to me. With a slight smile on his face, he said: 'Mea culpa, I should have warned you about Abigail Wiggins, she's been sending us one of these racy stories about every six months since the old Queen died. This one must have slipped through the net because these days we return them to her promptly with only a printed rejection slip. I'll give this latest effort to Annabel and she'll put it in this afternoon's post.

'I do hope you didn't get too excited about your find, Andrew, though I dare say you didn't find it too much of a chore to read through Miss Wiggins's latest steamy story. As it happens, her scripts are rather well-written-but of course I would find myself at the Old Bailey if I tried to publish them! Really, the only way she will ever get into print is if she goes to Paris and shows her stuff to a French publisher. I can think of two or three firms there who would be very interested in her naughty novels.'

Annabel now came into the room bearing a tray with a silver teapot and jugs of milk and hot water. But, feeling rather crestfallen about the dismissal of Miss Wiggins's script, I politely declined the offer of tea and made my way out into the bright sunshine. I decided to go home and see if Teddy Carmichael had returned from Paris but as I was walking towards the taxi-rank in Tottenham Court Road, I heard someone behind me shout out: 'Hey, Andrew! Andrew Scott!'

I turned round to see a swarthy well-built chap of my own age walking briskly towards me from the comer of Bedford Square. At first I had no idea who he could be but as he came nearer I recognized him as Antonio Rubira, a delightful Spanish gentleman with whom I had chummed up when we had met some two years before at a house party given by Lord Philip Pelham's parents, the Earl and Countess of Cheshire.

So I held out my arms and we hugged each other in the Continental style as I greeted him. 'Buenas dias, mi amigo viejo, que tal?'

'Soy muy bien, gracias and all the better for seeing you, my dear fellow!' he exclaimed (and I should add here that Antonio spoke perfect English for his half-Scottish mother brought him up to be bi-lingual). 'Do you know, I was just on my way back to the Savoy where I was going to telephone you to see if you were free to dine with me tonight at Bickler's.'

'Well, if nothing else I have saved you the cost of a telephone call,' I replied. 'And I am free this evening. But I'll be frank with you, Antonio, I can't really afford to go to such an expensive restaurant.'

Antonio smiled broadly and grinned: 'Your father keeping you on a tight rein as usual? Well, that won't matter because our dinner will be on the house. You see, my father has an account with Bickler's because he comes to London quite frequently since the Spanish government invited him to lead a committee to promote Anglo-Spanish trade. He was told that it would be more convenient for the bureaucrats if he would arrange for his bills to be sent directly to the Foreign Ministry in Madrid.

'Mrs. Bickler caters all his receptions in the restaurant or at the Embassy and she's so grateful for the business that she insists on treating me every time I come over here,' he explained. Then he clicked his fingers and said: 'Andrew, I must rush away as I'm having tea with a distant relative of my mother's. But I'm so pleased we can meet up again later. Eight o'clock all right for you?'

'That would be lovely,' I answered as I hailed a passing cab which I insisted Antonio should take as I was in no particular hurry. I waved goodbye to him as I decided that, although I would have a free feed tonight, it was unnecessary to splash out one and six on a taxi when I could sit on an omnibus which would take me to within some hundred and fifty yards of my front door for twopence.

I came home to find that Teddy Carmichael had returned from France just after mid-day. Whilst we munched through the cucumber sandwiches left by Mrs. Pelgram, he recounted the details of an extraordinary sensual affair in which he had been involved during his brief stay in Paris. He leaned forward over the tea-table and said: 'Andrew, you might not believe me, but the day before yesterday after a slap-up luncheon, I fucked the pretty young wife of the naval attache at the American Embassy.'

'Well, lucky old you,' I rejoined with a chuckle. 'But what was so extraordinary about this occurrence? Many ladies attached to naval officers find themselves with an itch which occasionally they find it necessary to scratch in a discreet manner. To be blunt, it must be especially tempting for them to enjoy the cocks of passing acquaintances such as yourself who can be relied upon to keep their secrets and are most unlikely ever to be seen again by their husbands.'

'Yes, yes, I realize this,' he said impatiently. 'However, in this case it was not the lady in question but her husband who asked me to poke her!'

I stared at him in amazement and exclaimed: 'Oh come now, Teddy! Are you trying to pull my leg?'

'Not at all,' he said sturdily. 'Without a word of exaggeration, I tell you that's precisely what happened. Look, it all began the night before when I met Captain Gordon Dashwood at a private view of the latest works of Alfred Kleiman, the German abstract painter whose paintings are the current rage in highbrow Parisian circles. He was sitting by himself on a sofa with a glass of wine in his hand and I could see from the glum expression on his face exactly what he thought about Kleiman's colourful daubs. Anyway, I sat down next to him and when I cautiously mentioned how difficult I found it to see the merits of avante garde art, his face lit up and, putting down his glass, he grasped my hand and shook it vigorously.

'“Let me shake you by the hand, sir,” he said in a pleasant Yankee drawl. “In my opinion, if you showed this crowd a canvas of six splodges of red paint and informed them that the picture was the famous Donkeys Backside by Alfred Kleiman, some idiot would pronounce it a masterpiece.”

'You're probably right,' I said cheerfully.

'“Oh Gordon, you're not boring this gentleman with your reactionary views about modern art?” said a sweet voice behind me and I turned my head to see a pretty young woman standing behind me.

'She really was exceptionally attractive, Andrew, with a well-proportioned figure, a graceful white-skinned complexion, large brown eyes and rich red lips which, when she smiled, revealed sparkling white, even teeth. I was delighted when she sat down next to my companion who sighed: “Very well, my dear, I know you think I am an old fuddy-duddy but I believe that my friend here will stand on my side of the barricades if you want to discuss the merits of Herr Kleiman.”'

Teddy paused and let out a hoarse guffaw as he went on: 'Naturally I leaped to her defence because to gain an introduction to this ravishing creature I would have taken her side in any dispute even if she had argued that two and two made five! I said: “Well, let's not be too hasty. Painters like Kleiman are expressing their ideas in an intensely personal, private fashion which it totally different to the traditional, accepted techniques and I don't think they should be dismissed out of hand.”

'To my delight, the stunning girl clapped her hands and said: “Bravo! Well said, Mister-”

'“Carmichael, Teddy Carmichael,” I smiled, standing up to shake her hand. Two delectable dimples appeared on her cheeks when she smiled at me and said: “How do you do, Mister Carmichael. My name is Valerie Dashwood and this is my husband, Gordon.”

'“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” I said with a bow. To cut short the story, we chatted very pleasantly until the Dashwoods had to leave the gallery, but before they left me, Captain Dashwood insisted that on the following day I should join them for luncheon at Chez Nicole, one of the swankiest restaurants in Paris.

'Quite frankly, I would have accepted an invitation to eat at a workman's cafe in Belleville. Not that I complained at the delicious food at Chez Nicole. We started with caviare followed by sole poached in white wine and then a coq au vin which fairly melted in the mouth, all washed down with a splendid white Sauterne.

'Then Valerie left the table to go to the ladies' room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Captain Dashwood frowned as he looked at his watch and said: “Dear Lord, is that the time? Teddy, forgive me but I've just remembered that I have to see the Ambassador at three o'clock and there are one or two papers I should run my eye over beforehand. So please do not think me rude, but I really must get back to the Embassy. I've already settled the check but I would appreciate it if you would be kind enough to escort Valerie home.”

'“Of course, it will be my pleasure to take Valerie home,” I said. Then I nearly fell of my chair when Captain Dashwood leaned over the table and added quietly: “Thank you, Teddy, and in that case, I should mention that there is one further service you could perform for my dear wife. This morning Valerie told me how delighted she would be if I could persuade you to fuck her.”

'I could hardly believe my ears and I spluttered: “What did you say?” He calmly repeated: “I said that Valerie wants you to fuck her.”

'“That's a pretty poor joke,” I commented. But he shook his head and continued: “It's no joke, Teddy. Don't look so shocked-we've been happily married for eight years but since our first date I've always known that I could never satisfy Valerie's tremendous appetite for fucking.”

'Captain Dashwood stood up to leave us as I slowly digested this information. Seeing the dazed look of astonishment on my face, he shrugged his shoulders and added: “Teddy, it's a price well worth paying to be married to such a luscious woman. Anyhow, I'm truly proud that so many men desire her.”

'I could not refrain from blurting out: “Yes, I suppose I can understand that, although there can only be a small minority of men who are happy to share their wives' favours.”

'“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But it doesn't bother me that Valerie takes lovers now and then. Honestly, I really don't mind because her affairs keep her happy and fulfil her needs.”

'With those words, he waved goodbye and left me with my mind in a whirl. Then it struck me that perhaps I might be the victim of a practical joke (albeit in the worst possible taste) played by Captain Dashwood on both his lovely wife and myself. My hands began to tremble as I thought how dreadful it would be if her husband had been spinning me a barely plausible yarn The consequences would be hugely embarrassing not only for me but also for Valerie. What a bounder she would think me when out of the blue I suddenly proclaimed my desire to make mad, passionate love to her!

'On the other hand, I had no wish to pass up the opportunity of poking the gorgeous woman who was now making her way back to our table. I decided that I would say nothing about the amazing conversation with her husband until I could somehow determine the truth of his remarks.

'I rose to my feet as a waiter pulled back Valerie's chair for her, but my heart sank when she said to me lightly: “You poor man, has Gordon also deserted you?”

'Of course at this time I was still unaware that this short charade had been carefully planned by the Dashwoods beforehand so I found it difficult to answer this seemingly innocent query. I felt a blush spreading across my cheeks as I mumbled some words about how her husband had been called away on Embassy business.

'“Oh dear, how very naughty of him,” remarked Valerie. I hastily added: “But he has asked me to escort you back to your apartment which I hope you will allow me to do.”

'She gave me a dazzling smile and answered: “That's most kind of you, Teddy, I would be most grateful for your company if you can spare the time.”

'Well, here was an opportunity to test the water. Summoning up my courage, I cleared my throat and said: “Valerie, I can always find time to spend with such a charming companion.”

'She flashed a strange glance at me and I held my breath as I anxiously waited for her reply-would she give me any sign of encouragement or just ignore the remark? Or, worse still, might she take umbrage at my words and flounce out of the restaurant in a huff?

'So I almost cried out with relief when the stunningly beautiful girl murmured: “And so can I, my dear and I do hope you won't have to rush away when we get home.”

'Then as if to leave me in no doubt of the meaning of her words, Valerie reached out and gently squeezed my hand whilst, under the cover of the long white tablecloth which almost reached the ground, she sensually rubbed her foot against the side of my leg. Throwing caution to the winds, I leaned across the table and whispered: “Rush away, did you say? No, I certainly won't do that because I have this overwhelming desire to make mad, passionate love to you.”

'She said nothing but ran her tongue between her lips in a lascivious smile. She made no complaint when a waiter came to enquire if we would like some coffee and without even consulting her I shook my head and told him to bring our coats.

'Minutes later we were sitting together in a fiacre wrapped in a wild embrace, our lips melded together in an uninhibited open-mouthed kiss. Valerie seemed to melt against me as my arms went around her, my hands sliding up to cover her breasts and feel under the fine cloth her nipples hardening against my palms.

'I let my hand fall to her lap, pressing it against her pussey, but with obvious reluctance she drew away and breathed in my ear: “Not now, Teddy, we're almost home.”

'However, once we were safely inside the Dashwoods' spacious apartment on the Rue de la Paix, we took up from where we left off in the hallway until Valerie suggested that we moved into the bedroom. There, she pushed me back onto the bed and said: “Teddy, I must go into the dressing room and take off this nice new frock before it creases up. Stay here, I shan't be very long.”

'“Don't worry, I'll be ready and waiting for you,” I replied and as she closed the door behind her, I pulled off my shoes and socks. After all, it didn't heed a Sherlock Holmes to know what Valerie had in mind, so I proceeded to undress down to my drawers and hung my jacket, shirt and trousers over a chair. Then, just as I sat down on the bed, Valerie returned, wearing only a diaphanous silk robe.

'“Ah, I'm glad to see that you haven't wasted any more precious time,” she said huskily as she slipped the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor whilst I gazed in awe at her flawless naked body.

'Andrew, my dear chap, I swear to you that mere words are inadequate to describe her beauty and it needed not a weird artist like Kleiman but a da Vinci, Rubens or Van Dyck to capture this perfect picture of feminine pulchritude. My heart began to beat faster when she lifted her arms to unpin her reddish-brown hair and free her long shiny tresses which now tumbled down to her shoulders whilst her superb uptilted breasts and cherry-sized nipples jiggled up and down with the movement. As you might expect, my shaft shot up like a rocket as my eyes swivelled down to her smooth white-skinned belly and the curly bush of auburn hair which nestled between her ivory thighs.

'I was transfixed by this sensuous vision and sat stock-still, wondering how any girl could have breasts so exquisitely rounded with nipples that thrust out so tight, so hard. Valerie looked at me with an amused smile on her face as she walked slowly towards me with outstretched hands.

'The dappled light streaming in through the net curtains shone on the ravishing girl as I pulled her down onto the bed. Our mouths fused together as I gathered her into my arms. My hands flew to her breasts which I squeezed and rubbed whilst I lifted my hips to enable her to yank down my drawers and gasp hold of my throbbing cock.

'But, probably because this was the first time I had fucked another man's wife, there remained a tiny glimmer of concern in my mind despite Captain Dashwood's encouragement of this adulterous affair. For just a moment I drew back and whispered: “Valerie, you are sure you want to continue? I mean, if Gordon unexpectedly came back-”

'She interrupted me by kissing me on the lips and confirmed the truth of her husbands assertion about his wife's high sexual drive by saying: “Hush now, Teddy, didn't Gordon inform you at the restaurant that he and I have a special understanding?”

'This was all I needed to hear and I wrapped my arms around her again as we locked together in a passionate exploration of each other's bodies. She responded to my every move. Later, Valerie told me how she had meant to take her time but her pussey was juicing so quickly that without further ado she straddled herself over me and impaled herself on my cock.

'She rode me like she would a bucking bronco, pounding the gorgeous soft cheeks of her arse against my thighs as I gyrated my hips upwards and felt her cunney muscles grip my shaft as my knob pounded the depths of her clingy, moist quim. For at least two full minutes we fucked without a pause until I could hold back no longer and, with a low, wordless growl, I flooded her cunt with a deluge of frothy jism. This fierce gush quickly brought on Valerie's own climax and she shuddered to a thunderous orgasm as if an electric shock had crackled through her cunney. With my quivering cock trapped inside her cunt, she clenched her thighs together for one last ecstatic spend.

'I fell back exhausted but was given little time to recover! With a gay laugh, Valerie swung herself round so that she now faced the window. Then she leaned forward, pushing out the glowing cheeks of her shapely bottom so that they were only inches away from my face as she closed her lips over the bulbous helmet of my shaft which was still liberally coated with our mingled love juices.

'Valerie's delicious sucking made my shaft stiffen again and I gasped with pleasure at the ecstatic sensations caused by her warm, moist tongue as she gulped more of my cock further inside her mouth. With the tip of her tongue she began to strum the underside of my shaft, working her way wetly along its full twitching length. I closed my eyes and gurgled with delight as, after just two or three swipes of her wicked tongue, my fully erect chopper was once more as hard as iron.

'Then she pulled her mouth away and murmured: “M'm, what a tasty cock! But rather than suck you off, I would far rather you poked me doggie-style, if you would be so kind.”

'“With the greatest of pleasure,” I answered although, truth to tell, I would have liked a longer period of recuperation because I had just spent copiously after a wild fuck which itself had come after a sumptuous luncheon. Nevertheless, it would have been grossly impolite to refuse her request so I hauled myself up to my knees. Valerie leaned forward and impudently stuck her creamy bum cheeks in the air as she called out: “Go on, dear, my nice wet love funnel is ready and waiting for you.”

'I took a deep breath and guided my pulsing prick beneath her rolling buttocks, sighing with delight as my knob squelched its way into her dripping quim. Valerie squealed happily as we fell into a fresh bout of wild fucking. She pushed her bottom back to force her cunney along the full length of my throbbing boner and beads of perspiration trickled down my face as I slewed my tired but still eager shaft in and out of Valerie's exquisite cunt.

'My balls felt full to bursting and, quite candidly, I made little attempt to delay the ultimate pleasure, quickly exploding into a climactic release. However, Valerie had already milked my cock so expertly that only a feeble rivulet of jism spurted out of my knob as waves of sheer fatigue coursed through me. My shaft softened straight after this paltry emission and I lapsed into a comatose state of complete and utter exhaustion. Much to Valerie's displeasure because, believe it or not, Andrew, the insatiable floozie now wanted me to fuck her jouncy bottom.'

'Well, couldn't you have obliged her after a refreshing little nap?' I enquired, trying in vain to keep a straight face as a tiny smile played about my lips.

'There just wasn't time, old boy, because I had to attend an important auction of eighteenth century silver at Reis et Cie at five o'clock,' he answered gloomily. 'Valerie was clearly very disappointed but she shrugged her shoulders and said: “Oh well, then we'll just have to call it a day. Thank you for the fuck, Teddy, I really enjoyed myself-and so will Gordon when he comes home because he loves listening to me telling him all the exciting details about how my latest lover poked me.

'Captain Dashwood likes to hear his wife talk about her affairs with other men?' I said incredulously. Teddy spread out his hands and shrugged: 'Oh yes, Valerie swore to me that he actually encouraged her to get shagged by whoever she fancied so long as she told him all about it afterwards. Interestingly enough, without divulging the names of the couple involved, I mentioned the incident to a French friend that evening, but to my surprise he wasn't particularly shocked. He said to me that such behaviour is not that uncommon amongst men who are not confident of satisfying their wives and have an overwhelming need to be humiliated.'

'De gustibus non est disputandum,' I commented and he nodded: 'Absolutely so, old boy-though I find it difficult to imagine myself wanting to share my wife's favours even with you! 'Nevertheless, as you rightly say, there is certainly no accounting for tastes!'

Teddy went into the study to write a letter of thanks to his cousin in whose home he had been staying in Paris. Whilst I mulled over his extraordinary story, I heard the sound of a letter sliding thought the flap of our front door so I hauled myself out of my chair and walked to the front door.

The solitary envelope was addressed to me. I raised my eyebrows when I opened it and pulled out the letter which was from Katie Judson, an engaging girl with whom I had enjoyed a platonic friendship during a country house weekend some two months before at her parents' beautiful home in the charming Cotswolds hamlet of Upper Chagford situated in Oxfordshire about seven miles from the border with Gloucestershire.

I hasten to add that the platonic nature of our friendship was not from any lack of ardour on my part. But Katie had been in no state to begin any fresh relationships. The reason for this was that she had only recently broken off her engagement to Anthony G-, a gentleman who soon afterwards was packed off to New Zealand by his family after narrowly escaping criminal prosecution for the foul crime of blackmail. However, since copies of The Oyster now reach Antipodean shores, I will not reveal his full name in the hope that he has changed his ways for the better. Be that as it may, I was delighted to receive this letter from Katie Judson which read:

Judson Manor, Upper Chagford, Oxfordshire

Dear Andrew,

I am counting on you to help a damsel (well, several damsels) in distress! Forgive the short notice, but are you able to accept an invitation to come up to Judson Manor on Friday for a long weekend? The reason why I would be hugely grateful is not just that it would be lovely to see you again but because I have my cousin Susie and two of my closest friends, Alexa and Erika Hansen from Denmark, staying here. Alexa and Erika are twins and their mother is distantly related to Queen Alexandra.

Anyhow, we are all alone here because my father received a telegram yesterday about his Aunt Maude who had reached the great age of ninety-seven but whose health is now giving great cause for concern. Do not think me over-cynical, but as my Great Aunt Maude is thought to have a fortune of more than a quarter of a million pounds, my parents have rushed up to Warwick to be at the old lady's bedside for what are probably her last hours. Of course, this act of kindness has nothing to do with any worry they might have that other unscrupulous relatives might also make a similar journey in order to persuade her to change her will or even — as my father has more than once hinted with regard to his brother Osborn, the black sheep of the family-attempt to forge a codicil or gain a power of attorney over her affairs.

Be that as it may, we four girls have the house to ourselves for at least a week and Susie suggested to me that we should invite some young gentlemen to make up a jolly party whilst my parents are away. Do you recall Ian Pethick, the young Leicestershire landowner, from your last visit here? He is sweet on Susie and as soon as he received an invitation from her, he wired back his acceptance. Our neighbour Colonel Dennison's son, Jack, will also make himself available so we need two more boys to make up the numbers-perhaps your friend Teddy Carmichael would be interested? I would be so pleased if you could both accept this admittedly last-minute invitation.

Perhaps you would send me a telegram saying yea or nay as soon as you receive this letter.

With all my love

Katie

Naturally, I was thrilled to receive this letter-my only arrangements for the weekend consisted of a half-promise to some chaps to take part in a charity bridge evening at the Jim Jam Club in aid of Princess Louise Is East End Milk Funds and a duty visit to my Uncle Hubert and Aunt Gertrude in Ecclestone Square. Well, a cheque to the Funds and a letter of apology to my aunt and uncle would suffice and I hurried into the study to ask Teddy if he were free to accompany me to Upper Chagford on the coming weekend.

'Excellent,' I said when Teddy informed me that he was indeed free and would be very happy to make the journey up to the Cotswolds. 'I'll send a telegram to Katie right now.'

I performed my chores and took a shower before changing into an evening suit for my dinner at Bickler's with Antonio Rubira. I arrived at the restaurant at eight o'clock precisely but it was almost a quarter past eight before Antonio appeared. I was startled to see that he was sporting a large sticking plaster over his left eyebrow and looked far from his usual ebullient self. Therefore I interrupted his fulsome apologies for his late arrival and asked if he had been involved in a traffic accident.

He gave me a rueful look and replied: 'Well, that's exactly what I said to the constable who found me lying on the pavement in a side alley off Dover Street this afternoon. But in fact I had been assaulted and robbed.'

'Good heavens, how terrible!' I gasped. 'But why didn't you tell that to the policeman? Were you in shock? It's not too late to make a statement at the nearest station, you know. I'll go with you if you like.'

'No, no, no, that's that last thing I want to do, my dear friend,' he said quickly. 'After all, the news of what happened might leak out to the newspapers and it would embarrass my father. Besides, I don't want the whole world to know how damned stupid I have been.'

He called over the waiter and went on: 'Let's choose what we want to eat and then after our meal I'll tell you what really happened to me.'

Naturally I dropped the subject although, of course, I was dying to hear what had befallen poor Antonio! Anyhow, we enjoyed a splendid dinner and I followed him upstairs to one of the small private sitting-rooms where we took our coffee and brandy. I settled down in a comfortable armchair but Antonio preferred to stand at the window looking down at the bustle of Piccadilly whilst he sipped his Courvoisier. Then he turned away from the window and said: 'Andrew, I'm so ashamed! I've been a perfect bloody fool!'

He plumped himself down on a small sofa opposite me and sighed: 'Do you remember that when I left you this afternoon I had to rush to meet a second cousin of my mother's at the Ritz? Well, I arrived in good time but a note was waiting there for me to say that he was unable to meet me as he was suffering from a bad cold.

'I won't pretend that I was dreadfully upset and I went back out into Piccadilly and strolled through Green Park. I was about to sit down in a deckchair for a snooze when an attractive girl in a grey coat handed me an advertisement leaflet. Normally, I would have thrown the cheaply printed paper away, but I had nothing to read so I eased myself into my deckchair and saw that the leaflet offered a twenty-five per cent discount off the price of an entrance ticket to anyone who brought it with them to the private poses plastiques entertainment being staged daily on the hour every hour only five minutes' walk away at 3, Albermarle Street.

'Well, now, I thought to myself, if any of the performers in this poses plastiques were as pretty as the girl who had given me the leaflet, they would be worth a visit. When I looked at my watch I saw that it was ten minutes to four which was more than enough time for me to catch the next show. Still, I hesitated, but then as if-how do you say in English-to egg me on, the sun began to move behind a cloud so I decided to heave myself out of my deckchair and saunter across to Albermarle Street.

'I rang the bell and a stout fair-haired man opened the door and ushered me into a small room off the hallway. He demanded a sovereign but accepted fifteen shillings when I showed him the leaflet which he took from me.

'“Very good, sir,” he said greasily. “Stay here, please, and someone will be with you in just a moment.”

'Sure enough, a minute or two later the door was thrown open and who should be standing there but the very same girl who had given me the leaflet in Green Park! However, she had now divested herself of her coat and was wearing only a tightly fitting white tennis shirt and a short sports skirt which barely reached down to her shapely calves.

'She flashed me a bright smile and said: “Hallo there, didn't I see you in the park just now? What's your name? My name is Sheena and I am you own personal pose plastique performer.”

'“Yes, you gave me a leaflet,” I stammered. “My name is Arthur (I find it easier to give this English equivalent rather than have to start explaining how to pronounce or spell Antonio). But I have never heard of a personal pose plastique performance before-what does it mean?”

'“Why, it can mean just about anything you want,” she cooed as she stepped forward and provocatively thrust her large rounded breasts almost into my face. Instinctively I nuzzled my face into her cleavage but Sheena skipped back a pace and giggled: “Not so fast, Arthur, not so fast What performance you get depends on what you pay-so far all you've bought is a ticket for the basic ten-minute show in which I pose in scanty costumes as Diana the huntress, Boadicea the Warrior Queen and so on. However, if you want to see my breasts, you'll have to pay another pound for a special performance.”

'I was about to say that I wouldn't part with a sovereign just to see her titties when the luscious girl nudged me in the ribs and whispered: “But if you can afford it, I recommend that you splash out another four pounds for the extra-special show. You won't regret it Arthur, I promise you.”

'And as if to prove her point, Sheena moved close to me again and lightly rubbed her hand against the outline of my thickening cock as she went on: “For instance, wouldn't you love me to suck your big stiff cock?”

'Well, of course I gave her another four pounds for the extra-special show. As she slipped the money into a pocket in her skirt, the little hussey smiled sweetly and moved her mouth to my ear, gently biting on the lobe before she said: “Oh good, I'm really pleased because I really do fancy you and I'm going to enjoy the next hour as much as you.”

'“Then she beckoned me to follow her upstairs into a well-appointed bedroom where she began to undress until she was stark naked. My rock-hard cock was now making a huge bulge in my lap as I sat on the bed and watched Sheena slide her hands over her beautiful big breasts and tweak her nut-brown nipples between her fingers. I licked my lips as I stared at the neatly trimmed bush of brown curls between her thighs. Seeing the direction of my gaze, Sheena said: “Do you like my pussey, Arthur? Why don't you ream it out with your tongue?”

'“With pleasure,” I croaked. And without further ado, I knelt down in front of her and immediately buried my face in the furry cuntal thatch whilst I grabbed Sheena's chubby bum cheeks and pulled her closer to me.

'“My word, you're a fast worker and no mistake,” she gasped as she clamped her hands on the back of my head and forced my face further inside her moist quim. I worked my tongue in between her pussey lips and soon found her clitty. Sheena let out a delighted squeal when I began chewing on the delicious fleshy morsel.

'“Wooooh!” she yelped as I licked out her dripping love funnel until, with a violent shudder, Sheena achieved her spend and drenched my face with a copious flood of cunt juice. When she had finished she patted me on the head and said in a husky voice: “Thank you, Arthur, that was absolutely divine. Now let me do something for you.”

'I rose to my feet as Sheena fell down to her knees and ripped open my flies, sending my trousers sliding down to my ankles as she slipped her hand inside my drawers to bring my swollen shaft out into view. In a trice her tousled chestnut hair was between my thighs as she kissed my knob and twirled her tongue along the ridge of the bulbous helmet. Her teeth scraped the dome as she drew me in between those luscious red lips, sucking hard as her smooth soft fingers clenched themselves around my throbbing tool.

'“Andrew, mi amigo, the lusty girl then gave me one of the best gobbles I have ever experienced. Her mouth was like a cave of fire that warmed yet did not bum whilst her wicked wet tongue circled my cock, savouring the tasty love juice which was already trickling out of my knob. It must have been clear to Sheena that I was almost ready to spend and she began to suck my prick even harder as she reached down and gently squeezed my balls. This had the desired effect and seconds later a low wordless growl escaped from my mouth as I shot a tremendous stream of foamy jism into her mouth, its powerful force sending the sticky cream to the back of her throat. Sheena smacked her lips as she swallowed my seed, fisting her hand up and down my pulsating pole until my shaft began to soften in her grasp. When she had licked up the last dribbles of cum, I helped her scramble to her feet and we laid down on the bed together whilst I played with her jouncy breasts and she toyed with my limp cock.'

Antonio gave a satisfied grunt as he gulped down his brandy. I scratched my head and said: 'Well, I don't see what's so terrible about that, even though four pounds, fifteen shillings is a great deal of money to pay to be sucked off-or did you recover in time to fuck this frisky wench?'

'Ah, if only this encounter had ended there, I would not have begrudged Sheena a penny,' sighed Antonio whilst he refilled his crystal goblet. 'Alas, the story now takes on a far less pleasant turn.

'As I said, we were resting on the bed when in flounced a nubile auburn-haired girl of no more than eighteen wearing only a diaphanous beige robe through which I could make out the contours of her breasts. “Hallo, you two,” she said perkily. “Can I get either of you a drink?”

'“Oh, I would adore a glass of champagne, wouldn't you, Arthur?” said Sheena. I nodded my head lazily, as she continued to stroke my cock. The girl came back less than a minute later with a tray on which stood a bottle of champagne and three glasses. She set down the tray on the bedside table and unknotted the cloth belt of her robe which opened up to reveal her firm, succulent young breasts. She smoothed her hand along my thigh as she asked politely if she could join the party.

'“Please do,” I replied. Whilst I watched the girl pop open the bottle, (which, incidentally, turned out not to be champagne but a cheap though drinkable sparking Moselle), Sheena said: “Arthur dear, you must give Patsy ten shillings for the bubbly.”

'I reached for my wallet and thought I detected a gleam in their eyes when I extracted a Treasury note from a tight wad of its fellows. Anyway, I forget exactly how it came about, but after we had drunk a glass or two of wine, the girls suggested that, like most men, I would be unable to tell the difference between their pussies with my eyes closed.

'“What nonsense! Of course I could,” I said indignantly. My cock began to stir again as Patsy rolled down her knickers and I gaped at the pouting pussey lips I could see poking out of her thick fleece of curls at the base of her belly. Then Sheena took charge of the proceedings and, after telling me to lie back and close my eyes, she blindfolded me with the belt from Patsy's robe. She said that they would take turns to sit on my chest and press their pussies against my lips.

'“First wash your mouth out with another drink to clear your palate,” she instructed as she placed a brimming glass in my hand. As I obediently swigged it down, I thought the taste was slightly different from that of the previous glass I had drunk.'

I held up my hands in horror and exclaimed: 'Oh no, don't tell me that one of the girls had slipped a sleeping draught into your drink.'

Antonio gave a rueful grimace and replied: 'I'm afraid that's exactly what happened. Suddenly there was a rushing noise in my ears, I felt myself falling back on the pillow and the next thing I knew was I was sitting up fully clothed against a wall in a side alley nearby the house being shaken into consciousness by a kindly passer-by who anxiously asked me if I needed any help. I put a hand up to my head and discovered that I was bleeding from a cut over my eye (they must have banged my face when carrying me downstairs or out through the back door). I staunched the flow of blood with a handkerchief whilst I thanked the elderly gentleman who had woken me up, assuring him that I was all right.

'After a while I managed to haul myself to my feet and staggered across Piccadilly in a dishevelled state back to the Ritz where, after a soak in a warm bath, I began to feel much better.'

'I suppose the girls had stolen your wallet,' I commented but my Spanish chum shook his head: 'No, surprisingly enough. Even though it was an expensive crocodile leather one, it was still inside the inside pocket of my jacket-though it was now empty, of course!'

'Oh dear, how much money did you lose?' I enquired. He answered sheepishly: 'About seventy-five pounds, and they also stole my gold watch.'

'The scoundrels! You really should lay an information against the girls at the police station,' I said warmly.

But Antonio demurred: 'I don't think that would be a good idea, Andrew. Listen, my friend, the fact is that its my word against theirs and even if the police believed me, the case would come to trial. Besides causing embarrassment to my father, I would also hate to see my name plastered over the pages of the popular newspapers.'

I slowly nodded my head and mulled over his predicament. Finally I sighed: 'Yes, I'm sorry to say that it would probably do you no good to go to the police. So it would be best to enter the incident into the ledger of experience and then forget about the-whole sorry business.'

'That's precisely what I plan to do,' he agreed and clapped me on the shoulder. 'So finish your drink and let's finish the evening at the Jim Jam Club. There's a special French cafe-conc ' evening tonight which should be quite fun.'

I hesitated as Doctor Elstree's advice to rest my wedding tackle crossed my mind, but Antonio would not take no for an answer. So I allowed myself to be bundled into a cab which less than ten minutes later had deposited us outside the doors of the Jim Jam Club in Great Windmill Street.

'Do you know, I'm rather worried that they'll not let us in as I've forgotten to pay this year's subscription,' I remarked. But Antonio waved aside this objection and produced his own membership card for the duty supervisor to inspect. Coincidentally, this evening this official happened to be Colonel Aspis, the Club secretary, who sat at his rosewood desk in the hallway flanked by two burly doormen who were always on hand to escort would be gate-crashers off the premises. This happened quite frequently these days as rumours about the raffish goings-on at the Jim Jam had recently begun to circulate amongst the hoipolloi and the Club had been forced to operate a strict policy of admitting only members and their guests at all times.

'Good evening, Andrew, are you keeping well?' he greeted me whilst Antonio signed me in as his guest. 'Forgive me mentioning it, but you must send me a cheque soon or I'll have to suspend your membership. We've a long waiting-list of gentlemen who are eager to take your place if you want to resign.'

'I'll post you a cheque first thing tomorrow,' I promised him. The Colonel gave a wan little smile and said: 'I've heard that phrase so many times, Andrew. As Harry Tate — joked at a gentlemen-only cabaret here only last week, that's one of the three greatest lies ever told.'

In spite of his stricture, I chuckled: 'And what are the other two, sir?'

'Both very simple, my boy,' he answered promptly. 'Specifically, at the dentist's when he says: “This won't hurt at all,” and in general terms whenever a young man swears: “I promise I won't cum in your mouth”!'

Nevertheless, Antonio and I were ushered into the Club. In the large restaurant area the cafe-cone' was in full swing. To a roar of applause from the audience, a line of scantily-dressed chorus girls had just finished their routine as the head waiter came up and managed to find us a free table for two at the back of the room. He took Antonio's order for two large cognacs whilst the chairman stood up and, rapping his gavel on his table for silence, announced that for our entertainment, the Jim Jam Club was proud to present a performance by two leading members of the Nouveau Ballet Parisienne, Monsieur Leon Chauvineau and Mademoiselle Juliette Lebrun.

We joined in the polite round of applause as the lights were lowered and the orchestra struck up a romantic air although, to be frank, I must confess that Antonio and I were a mite disappointed at this news. However, little did we know just how enthralled we would soon be by the sensual performance of these magnificent young dancers.

We watched with growing interest as a spotlight shone on the lissome young ballerina as, dressed in a skimpy silver top and matching tutu skirt, she gracefully moved around the stationary figure of the gleaming, bronzed body of her partner who was bare-chested and wore only a pair of white tights. At first he stood facing the side of the room. But when he turned face on towards the audience, a lady sitting at a nearby table muttered: 'Good gracious! Either that young man has stuffed something down between his legs or else he must be hung like a donkey.'

She was soon to discover that Leon Chauvineau was guiltless of any deception. But my attention was principally drawn to his partner who was now sensually divesting herself of all her clothes to a ripple of appreciative applause before finally standing totally naked in the spotlight. Juliette's haughty high-cheekboned face and slim figure were ravishingly beautiful: naturally, my cock started to swell as I goggled unashamedly at her small but splendidly firm breasts with their perky berry-like nipples which stood out so firmly as she tweaked them up to erection between her long fingers.

My eyes now dropped to her snow-white tummy and dimpled navel below which lay a curly bush of chestnut pussey hair. I heard a collective drawing in of breath as Juliette ran her hand suggestively along Leon's hairless chest before rolling down his tights to expose his enormous thick prick. I could see it spring up and quiver stiffly against his belly before he skipped behind her and slid his arms around her sides and fondled her bare breasts in his hands.

Then Leon moved round and dropped to his knees between her parted legs. He pressed his face into her thatch of glossy pussey hair: she threw back her head and moaned with joy as his tongue found the crack of her cunney. However, he quickly raised himself up and sucked on Juliette's firm titties whilst he dipped his forefinger in and out of her moistening quim.

She used both her hands to hold his huge cock which was truly of an awesome girth. Her own elongated nipples appeared to jut out even more stiffly as her eager companion caressed each of her jiggling breasts in turn.

To the rhythm of the soulful music, they moved towards the side of the stage. Juliette placed herself with her back against the wall and a wide smile lit up Leon's boyish features when she opened her legs and pulled his thick prick towards the waiting wet haven of her cunney, easing the purple knob between her pouting pussey lips and drawing it in inch by inch until their pubic muffs were matted together.

It occurred to me that his colossal cock might cause the slimly built girl some discomfort. But Juliette showed no signs of unease when Leon began fucking her with powerful strokes of his enormous todger. Indeed, she urged him on by throwing her arms around his neck, clasping her legs together around his waist to force even more of his huge prick inside her snatch.

Antonio and I were not the only spectators to be excited by this grand exhibition and behind me I heard a familiar fruity voice declare: 'Go on, you lucky lad! Crash your cock into her juicy cunt and rattle your balls against her bum!'

I turned my head and smiled when I saw that this encouraging comment had come from none other than Lord Philip Pelham, standing against a pillar with a tall fluted glass of champagne in his hand. However, I was more interested in what was happening on the stage where Leon had now increased the pace of the poke, sliding his tool to and fro faster and faster whilst Juliette threshed wildly from side to side, panting with passion as she clung to him, humping the lower half of her body upwards to meet the violent pounding of her lover's rampant red rod.

Leon bore down on her one final time, his youthful torso now shining with perspiration. Then his body tensed and he slammed his shaft into her, jetting his emission inside her juicy cunt as Juliette squeezed her thighs tightly around him. She did not release her grip until she had milked every drop of sticky seed from his spurting length.

A mighty roar of applause broke out as the couple disengaged themselves and slipped on red silk robes before taking a well-deserved bow to a standing ovation. Lord Philip Pelham went round the tables with a small china bowl to make a silver collection which he then presented to the artistes as they left the stage.

After the lights came up, Philip strolled over to our table. As he was chatting to Antonio, I plucked at his sleeve and pointed to a small group of men clustered around a thick-set older gentleman-whose face seemed curiously familiar-as they hurried past our table on their way to the exit. My eyebrows shot up and I turned to Philip and said: 'Am I suffering from an hallucination or did I just see-'

'Yes, you did,' he confirmed with a chuckle, it was no mirage, that portly chap with a neat grey beard is our sovereign lord, His Majesty Edward VII. I'm surprised you haven't seen the king in here before. He often comes to the Jim Jam with some friends to see a risque cabaret. Now unless I'm very much mistaken, His Majesty has gone upstairs to a private room for an assignment with Mademoiselle Juliette or one of his favourite girls from Mrs. Sylvano's establishment across the street.'

'Actually, I think that old Tum-Tum has the right idea,' added Philip, rubbing his hands together. 'Now, I've booked a private room for myself upstairs tonight and you gentlemen are very welcome to join me. Antonio, I've also arranged for two chorus girls whom Andrew met yesterday to meet me there for a late-night supper and it'll be no problem finding a third girl to join the party.'

Antonio looked at me questioningly but I shook my head and said: 'That's very kind of you, Philip, but I must have an early night.' Then I turned to Antonio and said: 'However, don't let me stop you, mi amigo. Becky and Claire are two very jolly girls and you'll have a fine time. Thank you again for a lovely dinner and don't forget to contact me when you next come to London.'

On that note I parted from my friends and took a taxi back home to Kendal Street. To my surprise Teddy Carmichael had not yet gone to bed but was sitting in the lounge in his dressing gown and pyjamas, leafing through the pages of a magazine.

'Are you all right, Teddy? I thought you would be fast asleep by now after such an exhausting day,' I remarked. He looked up and answered: 'Yes, so did I. Truth to tell, Andrew, I'm feeling rather wretched but I simply can't get to sleep.'

'Oh dear, I hope you're not coming down with a chill,' I said whilst I unravelled my bow tie. 'Go to bed, old boy, perhaps you'll be able to doze off now. It's a shame we can't telephone Mrs. Dashwood to visit you because half an hour with her would put you in the Land of Nod!'

He gave a wan smile and wished me good night as I walked through to my bedroom. I finished undressing and, after washing my hands and face, I slumped into bed and fell fast asleep.

Sally woke me up as usual the next day. But instead of diving under the cover for a quick fuck, she stood at the side of the bed with a worried expression on her face and informed me that Teddy had looked very poorly when she brought him in his early morning cup of tea.

I pulled back the eiderdown and swung myself our of bed as I sighed: 'Oh dear, he wasn't feeling too well last night. I'll go and see if there's anything I can do for him.'

Well, one look at his flushed face was enough to see that he was feverish. I said: 'Right, you stay there and try to rest. After I've dressed myself, I'll telephone Jonathan Elstree and ask him if he will come round and see you.'

'Thanks, Andrew, I'm so sorry to be such a nuisance,' he wheezed whilst I drew his curtains and said heartily: 'Don't be silly, old boy, it's no trouble. Anyhow, it's in my interest to have you fighting fit for the weekend with Katie Judson and her pals.'

Luckily, Doctor Elstree lived less than a mile away in Gloucester Place and agreed to see Teddy before his first appointment in Harley Street. As I expected, after examining him, the good doctor announced that Teddy was running a temperature of just over 100 degrees. He went on: 'I don't think he's contracted influenza but he still has a nasty summer chill. But if he stays in bed, has plenty of hot drinks and doses himself up with these new aspirin tablets, he should be able to shake it off pretty quickly.'

I looked in the bathroom medicine chest and found it to be empty. Doctor Elstree said: 'Ah, that's a pity, because this sort of fever should be treated as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I don't have any aspirin in my bag.'

'Blast! None of the pharmacies around here open till ten o'clock,' I muttered but he said: 'No, Andrew, haven't you noticed that Nugent's have opened up a branch round the comer in Edgeware Road? Their shops open at eight-thirty so you can go there now and buy the aspirin for Teddy.

'And while you're there you should also purchase half a dozen tubes of Vaseline,' he added with a low chuckle.

'Why should we do that?' I enquired. He promptly replied: 'Because it's a product which you and Teddy always need to keep in stock if I'm any judge of character. Come on, Andrew, put on your jacket and I'll show you where this new pharmacy has opened up.'

'Thank you very much, doctor,' I said gratefully. But when I arrived at the shop I found a Closed sign on the door although the lights had been switched on and when I peered through the window I could see a pair of long silk-stockinged legs and a shapely bottom sticking out from underneath one of the cabinets.

I knocked on the door and a buxom lady in her mid-thirties scrambled up from the floor. She walked up to the door which she opened, saying apologetically: 'I'm so sorry, sir, but I'm afraid we're shut. For some reason, our chemist hasn't arrived yet. I'm only an assistant and not allowed to sell medicines so I've closed up to do some stocktaking until Mr. Home arrives.'

Then she looked at me closely and said: 'Excuse me, sir, aren't you Mr. Scott from over the road in Kendal Street?'

'Yes, I am,' I said and she gave me a charming smile. 'You don't recognize me, do you? Well, we only met once, about three months ago in the queue outside the Palace Theatre. My name is Edwina Robertson and I was with my best friend, your housekeeper, Mrs. Pelgram.'

Now at first I thought it impossible at such an early hour of the day, but I could have sworn I detected the smell of gin on her breath and when Mrs. Robertson went on: 'Beth Macdougall was top of the bill that week and when you told us that the bearded young gentleman standing beside you-a Mr. Hammond, if my memory serves me right-was her press agent I asked if he could get her autograph for us. Do thank Mr. Hammond when you next see him, sir, because, as he promised, signed photos of Miss Macdougall were waiting for us at the stage door after the performance.'

'Your memory does indeed serve you well,' I replied. I was now somewhat concerned because for no real reason my cock began to thicken and push itself out into a tenting bulge in the front of my trousers even though little more than performing my errand of mercy for Teddy was on my mind. Yet again, I failed to understand why my love truncheon was behaving as if it were an autonomous entity with a will of its own. Mrs. Robertson told me to come inside if there was anything I needed, saying that so long as I did not need to have a prescription made up, there was really no reason why she could not serve me.

So I entered the shop and she locked the door behind us as I mumbled that all I required was a bottle of aspirin tablets for my friend who was feeling unwell. Mrs. Roberston said: 'Ah! We've just taken delivery of a box of Professor Anthony Mulliken's Aspirins. These are a little more expensive, but they're supposed to be the best in the trade. Just a moment and I'll see if I can find them.'

She knelt down and searched through some half-opened boxes. When she triumphantly brought out the bottle she had been looking for, her face was level with the bulge in my crotch. I noticed her eyes widen and felt my cheeks begin to bum as I blushed with embarrassment. I cleared my throat and thanked her as Mrs. Robertson rose and pressed the bottle into my hand.

'It's very thoughtful of you to take such trouble for a friend,' she said. Now I was certain that I could smell alcohol when she breathed deeply and added: 'I wish there was somebody who cared enough about me to go out on my behalf if I fell ill. But my sister has moved down to Maidstone and Mr. Robertson has been away since April-he won't be back till next February at the earliest'

I wondered what circumstances had forced her husband to leave the matrimonial home for such a length of time. But I thought it impolite to ask, so I simply nodded my head sympathetically and enquired whether I might also purchase half a dozen fourpenny tubes of Vaseline.

'Yes, of course you can,' replied the buxom lady, giving me a grandstand view of the swell of her ample breasts as she bent down again to open another box. 'Six tubes, did you say? Who's the lucky girl, then?'

And then before I could make any rejoinder to this impertinent question, Mrs. Robertson's face crumpled up and her eyes filled with tears as she sobbed: 'Oh, Mr. Scott, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, that was the gin speaking. Please don't report me to Mr. Home or I'll get the sack. The fact is that since Herbert, my husband, has been away I've been so lonely and I won't deny that this isn't the first time I've popped a pocket flask into my handbag before leaving the house.'

So she had been drinking, after all! I felt I had to speak out and I said: 'Mrs. Robertson, forgive me saying so but in a responsible job like yours, that's really most unwise. Suppose you made a mistake and gave a customer the wrong medicine whilst you were under the influence of alcohol? The consequences could be tragic'

To my discomfiture, she continued crying so bitterly that I moved round behind the counter and put my arms around her shoulders to comfort her, saying: 'There, there, Mrs. Robertson, I didn't mean to upset you, though I hope you will consider what I said. But what is troubling you so much? Would you like to tell me why you need to drown your sorrows with drink before you go to work?'

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, 'I can see that Hettie Pelgram was right when she told me that you were a very kind-hearted gentleman,' she said in a low voice. 'So don't you know what happened to my husband? I thought it was common knowledge in West London as the court case was in all the newspapers. Well, not to beat about the bush, poor Herbert's doing twelve months in Wormwood Scrubs. Oh, he's not a real criminal, sir, but the silly fool fell in with a fast crowd and he tried to pay off his gambling debts by letting himself get involved in some City swindle.

'So, I've been on my own since April and I do miss him, Mr. Scott,' she sighed, putting her head against my chest as she continued: 'And I'll be frank with you, I'm a hot-blooded woman and I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day Herbert was arrested and taken to Paddington Green police station.'

Now what was I to do? It was quite obvious that the poor lady was extremely distressed, and I felt it incumbent on me to provide such comfort as I could.

It was difficult to realize what Mrs. Robertson wanted. Happily, she made it crystal clear when she whispered: 'The truth is that when I saw you standing outside the shop with a big hard-on between your legs, it brought back memories of how, when Mr. Home asked me to work late, Herbert used to come here at closing time and we would have a lovely little quickie in the stockroom before we went home. Oh, I can hardly tell you how frustrated it made me feel!'

'Well, if there is any way I can help ease this feeling,' I murmured softly. Her eyes lit up as she instantly replied: 'Oh yes, you certainly can, young man. Go into the back of the shop whilst I switch off all these lights.'

The thought of fucking this pretty lady had made my cock swell up to bursting point and I unbuttoned my flies in anticipation whilst I walked through into the stockroom. Seconds later I was standing against the wall with Mrs. Robertson's warm body pressed against me. As our lips met, she stuck her tongue deep into my mouth and ground her pussey against my stiff shaft.

We exchanged a passionate kiss. Then she muttered fiercely: 'Ahhh! How exciting to feel a thick prick rubbing against me again! Oooh, Mr. Scott, the very idea of having your cock slide into my cunt had made me all wet. Feel my quim and see for yourself.'

I ran my hand up her dress and found out that, after turning off the electric lights, Mrs. Robertson had also taken off her knickers because there was no impediment to my fingers slithering into her damp pussey bush. Her body trembled when I began to toy with her clitty and she moaned: 'Oh! Oh! Oh! Quickly now, take off your clothes and fuck me, you dear boy!'

Who could resist such a sweet command? Whilst I tore off my trousers, she too undressed swiftly and in no time at all we were locked in a naked embrace. The underside of my stiff shaft throbbed against her belly as our mouths meshed together and I fondled her large, pendulous breasts.

She reached out, grabbed my palpitating prick and guided me gently inside her. My knob sank between her cunney lips and into the welcoming love channel beyond, the walls of which closed deliciously over my cock, pulling me in deeper and deeper until my chopper was completely engulfed in her squelchy cunt. I drew back and she squealed with joy as I thrust myself into her again. I leaned back against the wall when the happy lady threw her arms around my neck and, with surprising dexterity, wrapped her legs around my waist, locking them behind me so that my prick was fully ensconced inside her sopping cunt.

However, I found the position a trifle uncomfortable and I slid slowly down the wall as she released me from the scissor-like hold in which she had held my frame between her legs. By chance there happened to be a pile of huckaback towels on the floor and I pulled one out to slip under my bottom as Mrs. Robertson straddled me and lowered herself onto me, holding my straining shaft lightly in her hand as it slowly disappeared into her dripping shaft.

The raunchy lady settled herself and then, sitting bolt upright, arched her back so that her big jouncy titties jutted out proudly. She purred with pleasure as I reached up and squeezed them in my hands. Then, putting both hands behind her neck, she shook her head, tossing free her dark mane of hair before taking her weight on her hands. She kissed me wetly on the lips, moving her body upwards so that she was almost clear of my glistening cock.

However, she soon lowered herself again onto my throbbing tool. Now it was my turn to gasp with delight when her puffy pussey lips brushed the mushroom dome of my helmet as she slipped her luscious love funnel down the stiffstanding length of my shaft.

'Oh yes!' I panted as the slick, warm walls of her cunney closed tightly around my swollen lust truncheon. I quickly shunted my shaft up and down in swift, short jabs which brought us both to the very brink of ecstasy as I increased the pace to a near-frenzied speed. At every thrust downwards, Mrs. Robertson's plump backside smacked against the top of my thighs and her juicy quim seemed to tighten its fleshy grip all the more, as if a suction pump had been applied to the bell-end of my rampant todger.

Suddenly the massaging muscles of her juicy cunney tightened about me in a long, rippling seizure which ran from the base of my cock to the very tip of my knob. This clutching spasm sent me to lust's Elysium: a torrent of spunk burst out of my cockend and creamed the inner crannies of her emit. Gush after gush of milky jism jetted out of my knob, spurting deep up inside her. She cried out in joy as she achieved a glorious climax.

We shouted our ecstasy together in a delirium of delight. As I continued to pump upwards, Mrs. Robertson ground her pussey against my groin while she surrendered to the pleasures of her spend. She crushed her breasts against my chest as my fingers dug into the fleshy cheeks of her generous backside, pulling her forwards against me.

When the exquisite sensations finally subsided I pulled her off my cock and reached down into her sopping sheath, dipping my little finger in our mingled love juices. Then I rubbed the pungent wetness over her succulent breasts, anointing her titties with our cum whilst we recovered our composure after the spirited if unexpected coupling.

Then I recalled the original purpose of my visit. So I hauled myself to my feet and searched for my drawers as I said jokingly: 'Well now, after such wonderful service, you can be sure that my future patronage is assured. But I must be going now, Mrs. Robertson, because my poor friend is waiting anxiously for his aspirin tablets.'

She nodded her head, then grasped hold of my cock and gave it a fervent kiss. 'Yes, of course, I quite understand, sir. But if you would like to return here tonight just before we close at seven o'clock, I'll give you a sucking-off you won't forget in a hurry.'

This was a tempting invitation indeed. But I hedged about giving Mrs. Robertson an outright acceptance as I felt it would put me under an obligation to form an on-going relationship into which I had no desire to enter. So I grinned: 'I'll do my best to come back for that sounds too good to miss. But I believe I have to see some relations who live in Belgravia this evening so if I'm not here by seven, don't wait for me.'

Let me hasten to add that my reluctance was not on the grounds of involvement with a woman of a lower social class-if nothing else, my previous liaisons will bear this out-but because I have always steered clear of any attachments with married ladies. I have seen several chaps find themselves in the most devilishly awkward situations through their injudicious poking of other men's wives. Furthermore, in this case Mrs. Robertson's other half might at the time have been incarcerated in Wormwood Scrubs, but with remission for good conduct, he could well have been released even earlier than the following February.

Nevertheless, I had no wish to hurt her feelings, so I added: if I don't turn up tonight, you won't see me for a while as Mr. Carmichael and I are going to the country on Friday for a few days. But I'll contact you when we come back to town next week.

'Now before I go, I must pay you,' I concluded. She looked at me in horror but burst out laughing when I quickly added: 'For the aspirins and the Vaseline, you naughty thing. What else did you think I had in mind?'

I walked briskly back to the house and after Sally took my coat, I handed her the bottle of aspirin. I asked her how Teddy was feeling. 'He dozed off a few minutes ago,' she replied and I said: 'Good, let's hope he can sleep off his cold. Now it's a shame to have to disturb him, but he must take two of the pills every six hours. So in about an hour we'll wake him up. Then I want you to make Mister Teddy a hot cup of tea and I'll bring him a glass of water and make sure he takes two of these tablets.'

The salacious little minx looked at me slyly and answered: 'Very good, Mister Andrew, and shall I bring you a cup of tea as well? You look a bit tired, if you don't mind me saying so. Did you run all the way to and from the chemist's shop?'

'Er, yes I did,' I fibbed, but this only caused the impudent girl to break into a fit of giggles. 'Did you really?' she said with obvious disbelief. 'Well, you must have taken the scenic route because it's taken you ever such a long time. Why don't you go and lie down on your bed for a rest? After I've finished my chores we can finish what we didn't really start this morning because of Mister Teddy's illness. Then I'd be grateful if you could give me some advice that I could pass onto one of my girlfriends who has a worrying problem regarding her boyfriend.'

I looked at the cheeky girl and gave a heartfelt sigh as Doctor Elstree's admonition to abstain from rumpy-pumpy for a few days flitted across my mind. I had already disregarded his advice by shagging Mrs. Robertson and once I let Sally within sucking distance of my cock I knew full well that I would be unable to resist her advances. However, the idea of a cup of tea did appeal to me, so I resolved not to disobey Doctor Elstree's advice again even as I agreed to Sally's suggestion and walked through to my room where I threw myself down on the bed and awaited her imminent arrival.

Ten minutes later she knocked on my door. As soon as she had closed it behind her, she brazenly began to undress until I held up my hand and said: 'No, don't do that, my dear, I really don't feel all that well myself. I'd prefer to fuck you tomorrow morning rather than now. Did you know that I'm going to the country on Friday. I just hope I'm not coming down with the malady which has laid poor Mister Teddy so low.'

To my great relief, Sally accepted this excuse although she was clearly disappointed whenever I refused her offer to suck me off. 'You could just lie there and rest while I give you a nice gobble,' she pleaded. But I was worried that this would over-tire my cock after the fine fuck with Mrs. Robertson so, heaving myself up off the bed, I said: 'No, it's very kind of you, m'dear, but I think it would be best to wait till tomorrow. Now, what's this problem your friend has been having with her young man?

'Nothing too serious, I hope,' I added, concerned that the friend might be Sally herself, for using the cover of a nonexistent chum was often the way a girl with a bun in the oven first broached her plight.

Sally must have sensed my anxiety for she gave a chuckle and said: 'No, no, don't worry, Mister Andrew, neither my friend Chrissie nor I are up the spout. Actually, the problem is to do with Peter, Chrissie's boy-friend. Not to put too fine a point to it, he's been having some trouble with his cock.'

For a moment or two I stared at Sally as she began coolly to button up her dress. This had to be a wild coincidence, for surely it was impossible that the girl should have any inkling that I was suffering from a possibly similar complaint which had led me to consult Doctor Elstree in Harley Street. Nevertheless, I gave her a long hard look as I remarked: is he now, poor chap? What's the trouble with him? Can't he get it up?'

Sally shook her head. 'Not exactly, it's what happens afterwards which is causing all the trouble. As soon as he sticks his prick in Chrissie's cunt, he shoots his load.

'She said to me: “It's so terribly frustrating for both of us but I just don't know what can be done about it.” Now, Chrissie is one of my closest friends so I wasn't offended at all when last week she asked me if I would let Peter fuck me and see whether a fresh pussey would help him.'

I couldn't help but give a chuckle as I remarked: 'Goodness me, I've heard of share and share alike but isn't that taking things a bit far?'

'Well, I don't think so,' she said defensively, if it was all right with Chrissie, it was all right with me. And I don't mind admitting to you that I quite liked the idea because Chrissie had told me that Peter had always been a sensitive lover till his prick started to play up.

'Anyhow, he too was keen on the idea when we suggested it to him, so last Friday night he took me out for a drink and then we went back to my place. My Mum and Dad were already asleep upstairs so we went into the sitting room where we quickly locked ourselves in a passionate embrace on the sofa. Chrissie was right about Peter being a sensitive lover: a lovely warm glow ran through me as we exchanged tender searching kisses whilst his hands strayed to my breasts which he gently caressed whilst I ran my fingers through his shiny brown hair. I was soon so aroused that, when his hand dropped down to rub my pussey, I responded by squeezing the bulge in Peter's lap, whispering to him that he should help me undress as I prefer to make love in the nude.

'He didn't have to be asked twice! After he had unbuttoned my blouse and unhooked my skirt, he tore off his shirt and trousers. Whilst he whipped off my knickers, I could see the tip of his uncapped helmet sticking up under the waistband of his underpants. I could feel my pussey getting wetter and wetter as I sank to my knees and tugged down Peter's pants. His thick cock sprang free and I leaned forward to kiss his knob as I took hold of his hot, throbbing shaft in my hands.'

Sally paused for breath and gratefully accepted my offer of a sip of tea whilst I took the opportunity to observe that so far she had said nothing about Peter that would given any cause for concern.

'Ah, but wait a moment, Mister Andrew,' she exclaimed warmly. 'By now I could hardly wait to feel Peters prick slide between my pussey lips and pound its way into my cunt. So I lay on my back and opened my legs as Peter climbed on top of me. I closed my eyes in blissful anticipation of a delicious fuck-but then I heard Peter choke out a strangled cry of distress. I opened my eyes and saw the poor dear furiously rubbing his previously rampant rod which was now dangling uselessly between his thighs.

'“Relax, Peter, you're just too eager,” I said soothingly and grasped hold of his soft shaft. I slid it up and down inside the cleft between my breasts, thickening up his tool again almost immediately. It looked as if all now would be well, but as soon as I released his prick, it began to deflate back into limpness.'

'Dear, oh dear,' I sympathized as my own cock, which had begun to swell up whilst Sally was recounting her story, now also began to lose some of its stiffness. 'Presumably you tried again to keep Peter's prick hard.'

'Yes, of course I did,' sighed Sally, 'although at first he couldn't even raise a smile. But after I sucked his cock and stuck my little finger up his bum, Peter finally succeeded in maintaining a stand and he fucked me as best as he could. I did enjoy the feel of his thick stiffie sliding in and out of my juicy quim, but I don't think his prick was inside me more than half a minute before he spent. I had to finish myself off by diddling my pussey with my fingers.

'Peter apologized to me as we dressed ourselves. I could see how ashamed he was about cumming so quickly so I tried to put him at ease. However, he could not be consoled. When he left to go home, I watched him walk down the path with his head bowed and looking very miserable indeed.

'So there we are, Mister Andrew-Chrissie and I just hope that you can suggest something that Peter can do about his upsetting condition.'

I stroked my chin thoughtfully as I considered this unfortunate young man's problem. He couldn't afford a visit to Doctor Elstree and whilst I am normally loath to proffer advice on such delicate subjects, I ventured: 'Well, let's get one thing clear, Sally. Neither you nor Chrissie should take this apparent rebuff to your pussies personally. From what you say, Peter is genuinely distressed by his condition and I do know that it is not uncommon and almost always passes away very quickly.'

Then I repeated the gist of what I had heard Doctor Elstree say to his partner when we had played a foursome on the course at his golf club. This gentleman had complained to him that his nephew was suffering from a problem similar to that which had afflicted Peter.

'Premature ejaculation is sometimes caused by over-anxiety,' I went on. 'A chap who is worried about his technique might shoot off too quickly because subconsciously he might believe that this will prevent him from revealing his lack of experience.'

'H'm, I see what you mean, but I doubt if that would apply to Peter,' Sally commented. 'He fucked his first girl when he was only fifteen.'

'Yes, you're probably right,' I nodded. 'And it's more likely that he has another common anxiety which dates back to when he was a boy and first began tossing off. He might have taught himself to come quickly to lessen the chances of being found out and now finds it difficult to change. If Chrissie wants to help him, tell her to try the girl-on-top position because that usually delays the man's climax. Then, when he is about to spend, she should roll off and wait till he gains control before impaling herself on his shaft again to complete the fuck.

'But whatever the reason, this kind of problem feeds upon itself. All Peter needs is time to rebuild his confidence. I'm certain that in due course his cock will make a complete recovery.'

'Thank you, Mister Andrew,' said Sally gratefully, 'I'll tell Chrissie what you say and let you know how she and Peter get on.'

'Please do,' I said. Then, hearing sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen, I said to Sally: 'Mrs. Pelgram has arrived. Would you tell her to prepare some beef tea for Mister Teddy and I'll go into his room to see how he is getting on.'

Well, I am pleased to record that the intensive nursing combined with Professor Mulliken's aspirin tablets helped Teddy shake off his feverish chill by the next morning. By Friday morning he was fighting fit again, straining on the leash to accompany me to Oxfordshire where Katie Judson and her friends were eagerly awaiting our arrival.