The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 1

PART III. Comings and Goings

Monday, November 12th, 1895 (After Supper)

When I met Lizzie Dickerson as I was coming out of the dining hall after luncheon, I could hardly wait till we found ourselves alone in a quiet corner of the quadrangle. 'Did everything go to plan last night?' I asked. She gave a merry little chuckle and replied: 'Yes, I'm pleased to report complete success, Henry, and you may claim no small credit for your part in this affair which shows again that amor vincit omni.' (I remembered the translation from Latin class: 'love conquers all'.) 'General Bulstrode is at last now prepared to talk to the young couple about their future instead of shouting abuse at his daughter and her lover,' she continued. 'I am sure that once he gets to know Beresford better, his opposition to their marriage will gradually wither away. 'And Freda Prestwich enjoyed a good poke from the General, which she gets far too infrequently although I understand he always leaves her a present of a guinea which is more than two weeks' wages for a school housemaid anywhere in the country. 'Mr. Hutchinson and I also had a fizzing time. Unlike most Englishmen, he is a dextrous exponent of the art of cunnilingus and we spent twenty minutes in a divine soixante neuf.' Lizzie noticed the envious look on my face for she giggled and said: 'Don't be jealous, Henry, it doesn't suit you.

Now, you be a good boy and I'll show you, George and Johnny Bridges just how delicious a mutual sucking can be when I see you on Thursday afternoon.' This cheered me up and I said that I was glad to have been of service. 'So was I,' said Lizzie as we walked back to the main building where the bell was ringing to warn of the start of afternoon classes. 'Generally speaking, I think it wrong to interfere in other people's love lives, but General Bulstrode was being so unfair. It isn't as if the Tagholm family is in any way inferior to his own, although, as landed gentry in Shropshire, I suppose that Beresford's people may be living in straitened financial circumstances due to the current agricultural depression. 'As far as I can tell, his only objection is to what he calls Beresford's 'communist' politics. Frankly, I think this is an unwarrantable calumny. To the best of my knowledge, Beresford does not preach bloody revolution but only a gospel of social reform to give the poorer classes more opportunity to lead happier and more fulfiling lives. Good heavens, don't I sound like a politician! Mind, it is true that dear Dr Muttley believes me to be a wild woman because of my belief in female suffrage.' 'My father also supports the idea of votes for women,'

I told her as I spied Addington walking towards us. 'However, I very much doubt if this chap does,' I added as I swiftly told her of my contretemps with the prefect last night. 'I don't have time to bandy words with him though because your friend Mr. Hutchinson has said he is fed-up with people coming in late after luncheon and that he will swish anyone who isn't at their desk when he comes in to take the first afternoon lesson. But I'll wager this so-and-so tries something on with me.' 'Who, Addington? Leave him to me if he causes any trouble,' said Lizzie with a sigh. 'I know he can sometimes be most unpleasant but I don't think he will bother you whilst I am in earshot.' However, Lizzie was proved wrong, for as she walked away, the prefect called out to me: 'Dashwood, go to my study and bring down my History of the Punic Wars which you'll find on the table. I'll wait here for you.' 'I'm not your fag, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't go now because the task would make me late for class,' I replied, noticing that he was carrying an ash-plant under his arm. 'Up to you Dashwood, either you get whopped by me for not doing what I say or by Mr. Hutchinson for being late,' he sniggered. I would have been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea if it had not been for the timely intervention of Lizzie Dickerson. Wisely, she did not attempt to take my side but simply said: 'Ah, I'm glad to see you, Addington, please come with me.

Sixth-form classes do not begin for another ten minutes, do they? And, being Monday, you will be studying Latin with the headmaster, if my memory serves me correctly. I have an important message for Dr Muttley that I want you to pass to him. 'I'm rather busy just now, Mrs.

Dickerson,' he stammered. I took the opportunity to walk briskly away and managed to be sitting at my desk relating the above incident to Johnny Bridges and Billy Goodall when Mr. Hutchinson swept into the room. 'Good afternoon, gentlemen, I am pleased to see that you have heeded my warning to observe strict punctuality in returning here after luncheon,' he said. I noticed there was a twinkle in his eye as he paused for a moment and then went on: 'And your good behaviour is now to be rewarded.' Now, my form-master is not like some schoolmasters who may be clever yet lack insight into young minds. To these teachers, all boys are wild dogs who have to be cowed into submission, but Mr. Hutchinson knows that soft words and a pleasant manner carry more weight with us pupils – especially when we know that, in the last resort, he does not shirk from using his cane!

So, when he held up his hand to quell the little buzz of excitement that went round the classroom, we fell silent immediately and he continued: 'The Mayor of Ashford is coming to the school this afternoon to discuss our participation in the forthcoming ceremonies next month which will accompany the granting of the freedom of the town to Mr. Alfred Austin, our local distinguished man of letters who was created Poet Laureate three years ago. I have been asked to join in the discussion in the headmaster's study. 'I'm sure you will be dreadfully disappointed to miss a double-period of French,' he added dryly and then he himself joined in the laughter which broke out at his words. 'Well, the weather is dry and less chilly than we might have expected at this time of year, so Mr. Hare has kindly agreed to referee a game of football in which you can all take part. Um, I appoint Nugent-Bull and Harvill as the two captains and I suggest that the boys sitting on my left make up one side and those on my right the other. Billy Goodall raised his hand and said: 'Sir, there are twenty-three of us in this class, so someone won't get a game.'

'That can be me sir. Mrs. Dickerson has told me I should rest my leg,' I said, for whilst I love playing footer, my shin is still bruised from the encounter with Beddinghurst College and I want to be fully fit for our next big match against St Lionel's in a fortnight's time. Mr. Hutchinson nodded and said: 'Yes, of course, Dashwood, that works out splendidly. I will think of something less strenuous to keep you occupied. Right, now will everyone else please file out quietly to your studies, collect your football kit and go straight down to Fletcher's Fields where Mr. Hare awaits you.' 'Bad luck, old man,' said George as he stood up and gathered up his books under his arm. 'See you in the study after the game.' After my form mates had left the room, Mr. Hutchinson said to me: 'Dashwood, I understand from Mr. Reynolds that you are showing some real talent as a water-colourist. If the art room is free this afternoon, you could do far worse than paint a small picture for the classroom wall – though I would have no objections if perhaps you would prefer to sit on the touchline at Fletcher's Fields and sketch some of your chums in action. I am content to leave the choice to you.' “Thank you, sir, but I'll pass up the idea of sketching a football scene. Frankly, I find that humans and animals are far harder to draw than still-life subjects,' I remarked as I collected my books together in a pile and then followed him outside. 'Well practice makes perfect, you know,' replied Mr. Hutchinson, as he glanced at his pocket-watch. 'I must be on my way or I'll be late – don't forget to show me the result of your artistic endeavours after assembly tomorrow morning.' 'Of course sir,' I called out as he hurried down the corridor. However, I was in no rush and took my time in sauntering across to my study and from there up the stairs to the art room. This is small in size, but being situated on a corner of the second floor of the building, has the benefit of excellent natural light which pours in through the enlarged windows, constructed on two adjoining walls. Few schools such as ours can boast any facilities for budding artists, but Dr Muttley is an enlightened educator who insists that the Albion Academy should offer the widest possible curriculum to broaden the minds of its students. Any artistic capabilities I possess, have certainly blossomed from the skills of the excellent teacher engaged by Dr Muttley, Mr. Michael Reynolds R.A., a critically acclaimed, young Kentish artist whose home and studio are only a few miles away near Wye. I rather enjoy our weekly hour-long period on Tuesday afternoons with Mr. Reynolds who infects us with his enthusiasm for good paintings and especially for the works of Dante, Gabriel Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelites. Mr. Reynolds usually works in his own studio on Monday afternoons so I did not expect to see him after I had climbed up the two flights of stairs and carelessly swung open the door of the art room. However, on this particular Monday afternoon, Mr. Reynolds had chosen to work here, at school and he was engaged in a nude study of Louisa, one of our scullery maids, who was standing in front of him, leaning forward with her hands resting upon the back of an upright, wooden chair. Louisa let out a frightened little scream and Mr. Reynolds growled out angrily: 'What the blue blazes are you doing up here, Dash wood? I don't teach your class on Mondays.' I expressed my apologies for the interruption and hastily explained to him that Mr. Hutchinson had proposed that I spend the afternoon in the art room. His brow cleared, and, with perhaps a somewhat cavalier disregard for Louisa's feelings, he invited me to set up a board and easel and begin making a charcoal sketch of the pretty girl who was standing there, wearing not a stitch of clothing, no more than a couple of yards away from me. 'Thank you, sir, er, so long as that meets with Louisa's approval,' I said, hesitantly. But Mr. Reynolds waved away my concern. 'Tush, she doesn't mind at all, do you my poppet?' he grunted and, to my astonishment, he gave her bare bottom a friendly slap. 'After all, you don't have to do anything extra for your ten shillings an hour modelling fee. Simply keep standing there and look beautiful, a very easy task for such a pretty girl.' 'Flattery will get you nowhere,' she replied pertly. She smiled at me, with no apparent concern that I was unable to prevent myself from ogling her luscious, naked body. 'So, you would like to sketch me, Master Henry? Do you think I will make a suitable subject?' she teased. I gulped hard as I looked with awe at the brazen girl, who cannot have been more than seventeen years old, although she was tall for her age. She was blessed with long tresses of light, auburn hair, slightly golden in tint, and a very pretty face with deep brown eyes, set off by long, dark eyelashes, a full mouth with rich, pouting, cherry lips and a brilliant set of pearly-white teeth. And what magnificent, proud young breasts Louisa possessed, so round and firm, and what a lovely whiteness of belly contrasted by the glistening silky, reddish hair between her thighs. The idea of flaunting her naked charms before me must have appealed to her for the rise and fall of her delectable, bared breasts showed her breathing to have quickened. I noticed that her nostrils flared out slightly when she smoothed her hands across her pussey hair before placing them back on the chair in front of her.

I set up my easel and looked hard at Louisa's enticing curves, wondering how best I could capture her sensual charms. After a while she sighed and pouted: 'Come on, you two slowcoaches, why it's an insult that you still have your clothes on! Michael, aren't you going to make love to me like you always do before you start work in earnest? Surely you're not too shy to fuck in front of Master Henry.'

Mr. Reynolds laid down his brush and palette as he grinned at the cheeky girl and said in a genial voice: 'Louisa, I am well rebuked and offer my humble apologies. Dashwood, would you please be a good fellow and kindly help Louisa pull out the mattress from the wall-cupboard on your right whilst I get undressed?' 'Of course, sir, it will be my pleasure,' I stuttered. I watched the art master sit down, remove his shoes and socks, slip off his jacket and unbuckle his belt. He wriggled out of his trousers and drawers and stood up, his body covered solely by a flapping, blue shirt which he proceeded to unbutton before sliding it off his shoulders. His thickening prick was dangling down, but when he flexed his muscles, his shaft started to rise and his foreskin snapped back to reveal the wide, purple helmet of his knob. Louisa and I pulled the small mattress, which was covered by a clean, if rumpled, white sheet, into the centre of the room. As we passed by Mr. Reynolds, Louisa clasped her fingers around his stiff cock, rubbing her hand up and down the hard, fleshy bar.

This had the desired effect of setting a match to the tinder. The art master pulled Louisa towards him and their lips mashed together in the most fiery, passionate kiss. They sank to their knees upon the mattress and, disentangling herself from the embrace, Louisa climbed on to his lap, facing him, and squeezed her knees along his muscular thighs. Louisa put one arm round Mr. Reynold's neck and with the other she felt for his iron-hard chopper, adjusting her position as she placed his knob at the gateway to her juicy cunney. 'Ready, steady, go!' she cried as she slid down his thick tool until it was fully engulfed inside the warm, wet sheath of her love channel. As soon as it was lodged snugly inside her quim, she swayed back and forth, letting his pulsating prick ream out the furthest recesses of her honey pot. When Louisa was satisfied that she had every last inch of his cock inside her, she hugged him tightly in her arms, kissing the corners of his mouth before whispering in his ear: 'Push your hips up, Michael, harder, that's the way, you don't have to be afraid of hurting me.' She worked her own hips in rhythm with his upward thrusts, riding slowly but firmly upon his pulsing shaft, letting it sink all the way into her juicy snatch and holding it there. His eyes closed in blissful ecstasy. Mr. Reynolds was now in his own private heaven and too far gone, I am sure, to remember that he was fucking this lovely girl in front of one of his pupils. My own cock was now throbbing unbearably as the randy pair panted their way towards a finish. Louisa bounced up and down on my art master's truncheon, grinding her bottom round in tiny circles. Mr. Reynolds shuddered and thrust upwards as his prick spurted its creamy tribute inside her tingling cunney. This was too soon though for Louisa who shot out her right hand and gripped hold of me, pulling at my trousers. 'Michael, you don't mind if Master Henry fucks me, do you?' she enquired as she clambered off his gleaming wet cock which was still semi-erect but obviously losing its stiffness. 'No, of course not, I'm sure that he would be absolutely delighted to poke you,' said Mr. Reynolds generously. 'But be gentle with him, my dear, because Dashwood is probably a virgin.' I corrected him instantly and said: 'Actually I have enjoyed quite a number of experiences, sir.' 'Is that so?' he replied with some surprise. 'Have you really found a willing lass here at the school? No don't answer that question, it is a matter about which I should not have asked. Always remember that a gentleman never discloses the names of his amorata unless he discovers she has bequeathed him a pox, in which case it is his bounden duty to immediately inform all his friends of the danger.

Whilst I digested this wise counsel, Louisa said brightly: 'Oh never mind all that palaver, how would you like it if I sucked your nice big cock before you stick it in my cunt?' Without waiting for my answer (which in any case would have been in the affirmative), she slid her rich lips around my knob. I felt my shaft slide into her throat and she gobbled so lustily that I was reluctantly forced to removed my prick from its sweet prison or I would have very soon spent inside her mouth. I said nothing, but the salacious girl understood and cast herself back on the mattress, spreading her legs wide apart. 'Come now, Master Henry, show me if you really do know what to do with your thick stiffie,' she said teasingly. With my cock waggling in excited anticipation, I clambered upon Louisa's soft body without further delay and I let out a husky sigh when she took hold of my cock and positioned it at the entrance to her love funnel.

Slowly I pushed forward and my knob eased between her yielding love lips and into the haven of her juicy cunt. 'Ahhh, that's divine,' she breathed as I moved gently back and forth to enjoy the feel of the silky grip of her cunney muscles. 'Now keep still and let me fuck your cock.' I did as I was told, holding myself perfectly still whilst Louisa moved her body in a sinuous rhythm, working her clinging cunney up and down my shaft. Then I joined in, pumping my hips up and down whilst my balls smacked against her bottom with every thrust. 'Go on then, Master Henry, ram away!' Louisa cried out as I slewed my shaft in and out of her sopping slit. I pounded to and fro at an ever greater pace, my hands clasping her beautiful bum cheeks as I felt the spunk boiling up in my balls. Sensing that Louisa was somewhat behind me in the final sprint towards the pinnacle of pleasure, by a great mental effort I managed to delay the moment of truth for another half-minute. But as my cock continued to slide against the sleek walls of Louisa's cunney, I knew that my spend could not be denied any longer. With an almighty groan I flooded her crack with a foaming spray of spunk. Jets of jism spouted out from my sated prick and mixed with Louisa's own love juices which now poured from her pussey as she climaxed with me in a wonderful mutual spend.

'Gad, the lad certainly does know how to fuck!' she panted happily. Mr. Reynolds agreed and gave me a curious look as he commented: 'You have certainly benefited from a line tutoress in the sensual arts, Dashwood. Be for ever grateful, my lad, because first love can be either idyllic or an unmitigated disaster, and you have had the good fortune to have had a partner who has obviously helped to make your passage into manhood an extremely pleasant experience.

'Now, we had best get back to work. I have to finish this picture of Louisa for Lord Bresslaw and you had better produce a couple of sketches of her for Mr. Hutchinson. Incidentally, I would suggest that you draw only her face or he might become suspicious!' he added with a chuckle. We dressed ourselves, but frankly, I was still too excited to concentrate on my work. Mr. Reynolds kindly added a few well-judged lines to my own poor efforts before I left to take tea with George Nugent-Bull, Johnny Bridges and some other chaps in my study. As it was George's birthday, Johnny and I had planned a slap-up spread. Dusk was falling rapidly and the football match should have finished. The boys must have still been in the showers for no-one had yet returned from Fletcher's Fields. I opened the cupboard and carefully coaxed a tempting plum cake from its packing. Then I filled our biscuit barrel with a mixture of coconut and shortbread biscuits and set out the meringues and jam tarts we had selected from the tuck-shop along with the other goodies. Then I reached up and brought out the present Johnny and I had purchased for George from a shop in Ashford. It was a travelling chess set with pegged men in a polished mahogany box which cost us half a guinea. But George is a true friend and neither Johnny nor myself begrudge the cash, although after buying the grub for the birthday tea, I shall have to beg some extra funds from Mama to see me through the rest of the term! It was now almost half past four. I completed the feast by preparing two large jugs of lemonade and I remembered to take out the small extra present for George which I had bought from a novelties shop for sixpence and which I thought he would find amusing. As I laid out the glasses, I heard the noise of footsteps and excited chatter in the corridor outside and Johnny Bridges burst in with George, Billy Goodall, Stephen Harvill and Bob Fowkes. 'Hello, Henry, I hope every thing is ready for the birthday boy, it's been a marvellous day so far, a soccer match instead of afternoon school and our team winning a splendid game by five goals to two,' George cried.

When he saw that I had laid out the splendid tea he clapped me on the back and said: 'Gosh, what a feast! Just as well you and Johnny bought so much grub from the old tuck shop, I'm starving after the footer! Come on, chaps, dig in and help me make the most of my birthday.' I was as hungry as the others after my own indoor feats and we fell upon the food like a pack of hungry wolves. Then, after we had assuaged our hunger, we toasted George in lemonade, and on behalf of Johnny and myself, I presented George with his chess set.

He thanked us warmly and I smiled at the puzzled frown on Billy Goodall's face when George mentioned how grateful he was to me 'for the set of extra tutorials.' Not wishing for Billy to pursue this matter further, I gave George my personal extra present of the 'Seebackroscope' which he thought was a most amusing gift. 'With the aid of this instrument, the possessor can see behind him,' he read out from the leaflet which accompanied the small rubber periscope.

'Observe who is following you without attracting attention by turning around, simply by placing the Seebackroscope to your eye. 'Thanks a lot, Henry, this could turn out to be jolly useful,' he said.

Johnny laughed and said that George could also have great fun with the Seebackroscope next year when he stayed with his parents at their summer house in nearby Felpham, standing outside the bathing machines on the beach at Bognor Regis! 'Ha, Ha, Ha! What a jolly idea! And, before then, I'll practise standing with my back to Mr.

Hutchinson and see if I can note down the answers to our maths homework,' suggested George. We demolished the rest of the plum cake and spent the remaining time till 'prep' in a merry mood, swapping ribald jokes. The best of these came from Billy Goodall who recounted an anecdote about a gentleman of the Romish persuasion who went to Confession one morning and informed the priest that he had been fucking one of the servant girls for the previous month. The priest admonished him and warned him that if he did not desist indulging in such carnal sin, upon his demise he would be consigned to the fiery depths. Much chastened, the gentleman left the church but, a mere week later, was back again in the confession box with an agitated expression on his face. 'Father, I tried tremendously hard not to fuck Matilda, but this morning, when I saw her bending over as she filled a shopping basket, I simply could not refrain from throwing up her petticoats and poking her.' 'My son, my son,' cried the horrified priest. 'Think of your immortal soul which will be barred from the doors of heaven!' To which the gentleman smiled wanly and replied: 'Perhaps so, and in the meantime I am also barred from the doors of Mrs. Estelle Cohn's Emporium in Kensington High Street!'

We roared with laughter at this comical tale and Johnny said: 'That joke reminds me of a little “Nursery Rhyme”: “From the depths of the crypt in St Giles, Came a scream which resounded for miles, Said the vicar, 'Good gracious, Has Father Ignatious Forgotten the Bishop has piles?'” This set off a round of rude rhymes of which I can only recall Stephen Harvill's: 'A comely young lady named Ransom, Was ravished five times in a Hansom, When she cried out for more, A voice from the floor Groaned “Madam, I'm Simpson, not Sampson!'” I enjoy a smutty story or poem which possesses genuine wit, but alas, I can never remember even the best of them.

Hopefully I shall now be able to rectify this situation by writing in this diary which will act as a repository for the most amusing jests which I wish to recall. Because of Mr. Hutchinson's absence, there were only some Latin verbs to mug up for 'prep' and George and I had plenty of time to take a short stroll down to the gymnasium to return the referee's whistle to Bunny Hare which George had absent-mindedly left in his shorts whilst changing into his ordinary clothes after the match. No-one was training in the gymnasium when we entered but in the far corner there was a light and a low murmur of voices coming from Mr. Hare's office. 'Why on earth is old Bunny sitting in his office when he has turned off the gas jets in the gym?'

I murmured as I closed the door quietly behind us. 'What the blue blazes can he be up to?' George grinned as he pulled the Seebackroscope out of his pocket. 'Stay here for a moment, Henry and I'll find out,' he said. He padded noiselessly across the wooden floor and climbed silently up the stairs to the changing area. At first, I wondered what he was about, but then I remembered that last week, at morning assembly, Dr Muttley informed us that some wood was found to be infested with dry-rot in the gymnasium and that for a few days there would be a gap of about ten inches between the planks of the upstairs floor, almost directly above the gymnasium office. 'Be careful to avoid this area, there is no danger of the floor collapsing underneath your weight, but we don't want anyone catching their feet in the hole,' the headmaster had warned. I realised that George would have no need of his Seebackroscope for he would be able to peer downwards for a bird's eye view of Bunny Hare's room. I waited for a minute or so and then made my way upstairs to join him, taking care to move as quietly as possible on the boards. Luckily, they were sturdy and didn't creak. When I reached George, he was down on his knees with his eyes glued to the gap and he beckoned me over to see for myself what was happening directly beneath him. As I took up position next to him, he mouthed: 'Just take a quick gander at that, Henry, the dirty beast.' I looked quizzically at George for a moment before squinting through the hole to gaze down at Mr. Hare who was standing by the treatment table talking to Gordon Harding, a good-looking third form boy, who was lying on the table with his head propped up against a pillow. 'I hardly breathed as I saw Bunny unbutton Harding's trousers and slide his hand down the stiff little shaft which he extracted from the vent of the fly. I bent closer to hear what the sports master was whispering to the boy as he slipped his foreskin down from the purple domed head. Harding continued to lie with his eyes closed whilst Bunny fondled his twitching tool.

'Does that feel nice, Gordon?' he enquired. Harding replied: 'Oh yes, sir, please rub faster as I think I'm about to spend.'

Bunny obliged him by working his hand to and fro at a greater pace until, with a sudden spurt, an eruption of white seed burst out of the boy's cock like a miniature fountain. 'This isn't playing the game,' muttered George under his breath. I nodded my head and whispered: 'Let's go downstairs quietly and then make a noise as if we've just come in. That will frighten the balls off them both.'

This is precisely what we did and the result was exactly as I had forecast. By the time we reached the office, Harding was standing fully dressed besides Mr. Hare who was breathing hard but who otherwise looked relatively composed. 'Ah Nugent-Bull and Dashwood – what can I do for you, boys?' he enquired cordially. I frowned at George who I sensed was about to make a tart retort about not needing Bunny's fingers on his cock, and I prevented him from doing so by answering quickly and before my chum could open his mouth.

'We've come to return your whistle to you, sir. Nugent-Bull took it back with his kit by mistake after the footer this afternoon.' I explained. George threw the whistle on to the treatment table and with a steely glint in his eye he said to Harding: 'Hello there, Gordon, are you doing some extra training for the match against Rookwood juniors on Thursday?' Mr. Hare replied for the third former. 'No, no, Harding simply twisted his foot and I invited him here so that I could give his ankle a massage,' he said as he patted the youngster on the head. 'Off you go now, and try to rest the foot as much as you can. With any luck, you'll be fighting fit for the game.' Despite his advice, Harding scuttled out and I pulled George's sleeve as I politely wished the sports master good evening.

'Good evening to you, chaps, and thank you for giving me back my whistle,' he said, as he stuffed it into his pocket. 'The great South African athlete, Laurence Nathan, gave me this whistle whilst we were at Oxford. I used to time his sprints, you know, and next Spring, he's off to represent the Orange Free State at these new Olympic Games some obscure French Baron is staging in Athens.' As we walked back to our study, George argued strongly that we should have confronted the sports master about how we had seen him fiddling with young Harding, but I shook my head and said: 'Look, for what it's worth, I would think that our arrival gave Bunny quite a fright and he won't try and seduce any other boy in a hurry – but if he does, it's odds-on he'll be discovered, just like we caught him out this evening. 'And let me ask you this, old boy. Hand on your heart, would you have got so hot under the collar if it had been Freda or one of the other servant girls whacking off young Harding?' George wrinkled his brow as he reflected upon how best to answer my question and finally said: 'Well, I suppose not, though I would still have considered it to have been a misdemeanour on her part.' 'So would most other people, including myself,' I agreed as we turned the comer into the fifth-form corridor.

'Certainly, no-one has the right to interfere with a fourteen-year-old kid like Harding, not even a well-intentioned lady like Lizzie Dickerson. I think we should have a quiet word with Harding and tell him to inform the headmaster if Bunny Hare attempts to interfere with him again.' 'Very well, Henry, if you insist then I'll go along with what you say,' said George. 'But I still think we should report the matter to Dr Muttley ourselves. After all, Harding didn't seem to need much persuasion to let Bunny toss him off. How do we know if Bunny has pressured other boys who might not be so compliant?'

This was a good point which forced me to reconsider my position.

'Yes, that's true and I must say that I hadn't thought about that,' I confessed. 'Yet, I still wonder whether making a meal out of this incident might not do more harm than good. In all probability, left to his own devices, Harding will forget about this business, especially when it's time for someone like Lizzie to instruct him in the joys of fucking a woman. 'However, perhaps you are right and we should warn Bunny to pick on a playmate of his own size,' I commented.

George nodded and said: 'Yes, I really do believe we should speak to him about curbing his proclivities, on pain of being reported to Dr Muttley. I know you're a tolerant chap, Henry, who likes to live and let live, but Bunny's behaviour is beyond the pale. If he had been having it away with say, Mr. Hutchinson or Smeeth the groundsman…'

The very idea of these gentlemen being involved in such activities made us both burst into laughter and we agreed not to mention the matter to anyone-not even Johnny Bridges-and that we would speak to our sports master after supper.

Tuesday, November 13th, 1895 (During Prep) Last night was so hectic that I did not have time to record all that happened until this evening. What luck that Mr. Hutchinson has gone down with a heavy cold and has not set us any homework. I can use the hour set aside for 'prep' to finish writing up my diary whilst my pals play Ludo with Mabb and Osbourne in the next study.

During supper last night, George and I worked out what we would say to Bunny Hare when we went round to his quarters after the meal.

Neither of us was looking forward to this encounter, but in the end it did not turn out as badly as we had feared. When we knocked on his door he ushered us in and immediately invited us to sit down. Then he sat down himself, and with his elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands, he said quietly: 'Boys, I know why you have come to see me. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you are aware that I committed a senseless, foolish and criminal act this evening in the gymnasium. I deserve no mercy, but for the sake of my parents, I still beg you not to make public what you saw. Be assured, though, I am about to write my letter of resignation to Dr Muttley. I looked across at George who cleared his throat and slowly replied: 'Perhaps that would be best sir, but I want you to know that Dashwood and myself had no intention of telling anyone about what happened between you and Harding except perhaps the headmaster, and if you are leaving us, I don't see why we need to say anything to him.' 'Indeed not,' I said quietly.

Trying not to sound too pompous, I added: 'And it gives me no joy to see you leave. I'm sure that most other chaps in the school will agree that you have been a superb sports master. But, if you really are a follower of this lifestyle, perhaps it would be best if you followed some other career?' 'You may be right Dashwood,' he said unhappily. 'Yet I am far from being a fully-fledged homosexual. If only there were opportunities here to enjoy sex with suitable young females, I would be the first to take them. But the sad fact is that I have never sampled such joys.' 'Good heavens, sir. Have you never fucked a – I mean, never had intercourse?' George blurted out.

Poor Bunny Hare shook his head and said: 'No, I have never had the chance to do so. You see, Nugent-Bull, I was brought up in a very stern environment. No mention was ever made of sexual matters and my mother would never even use such harmless words as trousers – she would call them “unmentionables”. Even the legs of our piano were covered for the so-called sake of decency. At the age of thirteen I was sent to an equally strict school where, in the dormitories, a senior boy introduced me to the joys of masturbation. 'When I reached Oxford I thought at last I would be able to meet some girls, but the Dean of my college was almost as puritanical as my father and I never managed to progress further than a quick kiss or two under the mistletoe with one of the servant girls at Christmas. Since then my only outlet has been onanism'. This was a term neither George nor I had heard of before and George repeated blankly: 'Onanism, sir, what's that?' Bunny gave a ghost of a smile as he explained: 'What is vulgarly known as pulling your pud. Anyway, I have tried to sublimate my sexual desires, but the sight of naked boys playing with themselves in the showers after a game of football brings back memories of the games of mutual masturbation I indulged in at school.

'Somehow, Harding divined my interest when I came across him and four other boys fondling each other's cocks and threatened to report them to their form master. He came round to the gymnasium tonight and complained about twisting his ankle and then, when I was going to manipulate it for him, he said he would prefer me – and I quote verbatim “to massage my cock, for we would both enjoy that more.”

He heaved a deep sight and concluded: 'That is about the long and short of it, my boys. I must thank you both for listening to me, I have never told anyone about all this before and I must say that I'm damned glad to have got it off my chest.' Whilst he was speaking, an idea was slowly forming in my brain. Dr Muttley had taught us that ancient Greek philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle held that punishment brought wisdom. However, when I mentioned this to my father, he shook his head and disagreed. He said that after visiting inmates in Gloucester gaol, he opined to the belief that the punishment meted out was often more brutal than the crime. His words echoed in my mind as I thought to myself that little good would come of Bunny Hare simply resigning and taking up a post at another school. Far better, surely, to find a cure for (again to quote my father) the maladjustment which has led him to offend in the first place. So, I held up my hand and said: 'Sir, before you give the headmaster your letter of resignation, would you permit Nugent-Bull and myself to tell one member of the staff of your affliction? I believe that she can help you. Even if you still feel it would be best to leave the Albion Academy, after her treatment, I'm sure you will never again feel tempted to indulge in shirt-lifting activities with little cock-teasers like Gordon Harding.' The sports master was nonplussed by my request and he stuttered: 'She could help me, you say? Who is it you have in mind, Dashwood?' 'I would rather not say at this stage, sir,' I replied slowly. 'For, in the unlikely event that I am mistaken and she feels she cannot be of assistance in this matter, it might cause her great embarrassment if her identity was made known to you.' By now George had cottoned on to my train of thought and urged Bunny to comply with my request. 'I know what Dashwood has in mind, sir and I give you my word of honour that there is no way that the lady in question would reveal a word of anything told to her in confidence,' he said. I followed up these words by adding: 'In all honesty, sir, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose.' Bunny lifted his head from his hands and looked me straight in the eye. 'Well, I dare say that's true enough-but tell me, Dashwood, why are you taking so much trouble about all this? Wouldn't it be easier all round if I simply resigned and left at the end of term? How do I know that you boys can be relied upon to keep your silence?' 'Of course we can, sir, you have our word, but I do urge you to place your fate in this lady's hands,' I said stoutly.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: 'Very well, Dashwood, as you say, what have I to lose?' I suggested that he should stay in his study whilst George accompanied me to make an appointment. (With Lizzie Dickerson, of course, although I took care not to mention her name in from of Mr. Hare.) 'We will be back with her decision very soon,' I said. George and I raced up to the sick bay where, by good fortune, Lizzie happened to be still on duty, dispensing some medicine to a second form boy who was complaining of a stomach ache.

'There, swallow this down, Thomson,' she said to the reluctant junior. 'Yes, it does taste rather foul but you're bound to feel better in the morning, especially after a good night's sleep – and next time don't scoff Mrs. Mimble's jam roly-poly so quickly. I'm sure that's the reason why you've had to come and see me this evening!'

She shooed him out and wagged a reproving finger at us as she said: 'Now what brings you two scallywags here? You aren't due for another lesson until Thursday afternoon. You have very quickly forgotten my philosophy that I should help the needy, not the greedy!'

'No, Lizzie, you have the wrong end of the stick,' I replied.

When I explained to Lizzie the circumstances which had brought George and I to the sick bay – i.e. to ask if she might be able to help Bunny Hare back on to the straight and narrow, she soon understood that we were not simply there to beg for an extra session of fucking. We went into Lizzie's office and sat down whilst she questioned us more closely about what our sports master had said to us. Then she declared: 'Well, from what you tell me, I'm sure that losing his unwanted virginity would do wonders for Mr. Hare.

'Now, don't think I am terribly 'down' per se on homosexuals. As the famous actress, Mrs. Patrick Campbell recently commented, mankind's efforts to enforce conformity and social morality has a truly disastrous record. Consenting adults should be free to do what they like to each other sexually, so long as they don't do it in the streets and frighten the horses. But, from what you tell me, I think that once dear Bunny has tasted the joys of straight fucking, he will have no further desire to continue with these foolish fumblings.'

'Yes, he needs the opportunity to release himself from his inhibitions as quickly as possible,' I said. 'Oh yes, the sooner the better.' Lizzie: enthused. 'Send him up here without further delay. George, in about twenty minutes time, would you be kind enough to escort Mr. Hare to my private bedroom whilst Henry assists me in preparing for his treatment.' 'By all means Lizzie,' said George, rising from his chair. 'Will you need me for anything else? If not, I'll go off afterwards to write a thank-you letter to my Aunt Mary and Uncle Martin for the postal order they kindly sent me for my birthday.' 'No thank you, my dear,' said Lizzie. When George was out of earshot, she also stood up and asked me to go with her into the bedroom. I followed her in, sat down on the bed and, in all innocence, asked what she now wanted me to do. Lizzie laughed aloud and said: 'Well, as I said to you, it is vital that Mr. Hare sheds all his inhibitions. Normally, I would suggest a gradual leading up to the moment of truth. When teaching someone to swim, one begins with exercises in shallow water, but in this case, we shall have to throw our student in at the deep end, so to speak. The best way to do this is to excite him to boiling point by a kind of instructional poses plastiques exhibition.' I understood the drift of her remark at once and said: 'With you and I as the performers, I presume?' She nodded and, with a mischevious grin, she set about unbuttoning her blouse. In no time at all, she had shrugged off all her clothes except for her knickers. My shaft soon thickened as I gazed up at the swell of her beautiful bosoms. She sat next to me on the bed and, when she kissed me and her probing tongue filled my mouth, my stiff cock began to throb in expectation of the delights to come. Lizzie slid her hands to the front of my trousers and wrenched off the belt as I fumbled with the buttons of my fly. Once I had torn off my trousers and pulled down my drawers, she grasped my hot prick with both hands, rubbing my shaft with such urgency that, almost immediately, I shuddered to a delicious climax and creamy white jism gushed out of my purple dome. 'Oh dear, that's rather a pity, I wanted a dress rehearsal as opposed to a proper performance,' she murmured as she looked down upon my limp prick. I reassured her that my cock would be in fine fettle again by the time Bunny Hare arrived. Whilst I recovered my strength I asked Lizzie if she cared to hear an amusing joke which Billy Goodall had told me a few days before. 'Please do, I always enjoy a funny story,' she said.

So I continued: 'Well, it appears that Lady Farnes-Harnes caught her old butler Jorrocks in flagrante delicto with a pretty housemaid and she sacked the girl on the spot. However, as she did not wish to lose her butler she warned him that he had better turn over a new leaf or he too would be dismissed from her service. But, later in the week, she discovered him in the conservatory buggering the page-boy: “Jorrocks! I thought you promised me that you would turn over a new leaf.” “And so I did your Ladyship,” he retorted. “Only I have begun at the bottom of the page!” This droll tale made Lizzie laugh and she said as she rolled down her knickers: 'Now, why don't you undress completely, Henry, it's so much nicer to make love in the nude.' I readily complied with her request and, within a minute, I was sitting stark naked on the bed and Lizzie was gently stroking my swelling shaft with her long, skillful fingers. Naturally, my love truncheon quickly regained all its former stiffness and then, suddenly, her tousled hair was between my thighs. I felt her tongue swirl wetly over the smooth surface of my uncapped helmet and then she opened her mouth wide and encircled my knob with her lips.

Instinctively my hips jerked upwards to force my yearning prick even further inside her mouth as her wicked tongue washed all around my throbbing tool. Savouring my juices, she drew me in fully between her luscious lips initiating me to fresh heights of sensual pleasure.

I felt I would swoon with delight, but Lizzie ensured that I did not again spend too quickly by easing the suction each time she rightly guessed that I was on the verge of an ejaculation. This successfully prolonged our mutual enjoyment. But Lizzie's blood was up and she pulled me down with her upon the bed, lying on her back with her thighs apart, her fingers stroking her hairy notch. She beckoned me to put my hand there too. I needed no second invitation and thrilled to the feel of the soft, warm lips of her cunney which moistened at my touch. 'That's very nice, Henry. Now suck my nipples,' she breathed. My head sank to her breast and I began to lick each of the aroused red titties in turn. I continued to explore the silky muff of pussey hair between Lizzie's thighs and she clamped her legs together, trapping my hand between them as I inserted my forefinger inside her juicy slit. For a while, she was satisfied to be finger-fucked, but then she released my hand and gasped: 'Now, Henry, now! Stick your big prick inside me! I want it all inside my cunt, you sweet, big-cocked boy!' 'And you shall have it,' I panted as I rolled on top of her and pushed my prick towards the pink, pouting pussey lips. But, in my eagerness, I could not find the gateway to her love channel. So Lizzie took hold of my throbbing tool and guided it home herself, inserting my knob into the welcoming embrace of her cunney. 'Ohhhh!' I gasped with delight, enjoying to the full the delectable sensation as we began our fuck. Lizzie possesses the marvellous gift of being able to contract the muscles of her cunney and she clung to my cock like a tight-fitting glove as I pistoned my sinewy shaft. Faster and faster I pumped, to and fro, and Lizzie bucked and twisted under me, urging me all the while to thrust deeper as she raised her legs high in the air and wrapped them round my shoulders. How tightly her cunt clasped my cock as my balls banged against her bottom! Her kisses rained upon my neck and her tight bum cheeks rotated in my hands as my lusty todger rammed in and out of her juicy crack. For us both, the coup de grace could no longer be delayed and, arching my body upwards, I plunged down one final time, crushing Lizzie's breasts beneath me. My copious emission poured into her and her cuntal juices coated my cock as her clever cunney milked my prick until the last drop of sperm trickled out my shaft. I rolled off Lizzie's heaving body and we lay together in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Lizzie turned her flushed face to me and said: 'Oh Henry, I must compliment you. Without doubt, you are fast becoming my star pupil! I shall miss you when you leave the Albion Academy and will envy those lucky young girls who will thrill to the feel of your cock when you fuck them. Just as some fortunate people can play the piano with the minimum of instruction, so you are a “natural” when it comes to l'arte de faire l'amour.' Now who could fail to be displeased at such a handsome compliment! 'Thank you very much Lizzie,' I said with as much modesty as I could muster. 'But I am sure any credit for my ability in fucking must also be shared with my wonderful teacher.' There was a knock on the door and Lizzie called out: 'Just a moment, if you please,' as she slipped on her dressing-gown and walked over to the door. 'Who is that?'

'It's George Nugent-Bull here, Mrs. Dickerson,' I heard my chum call out. 'Er, I have Mr. Hare with me as you asked.' 'Oh, very good, George. Thank you for your help, you may go now,' Lizzie replied. 'Mr. Hare, I will be with you very shortly,' she added.

Then she swung round and said to me: 'Henry, may I suggest that you take a book and read in the bathroom until I call you.' 'Very well, I know when I'm not wanted,' I grinned as I heaved myself off the bed and, picking up one of the journals on her bedside table, I scurried off to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. But then I realised that I might enjoy watching Lizzie pluck Bunny Hare's cherry, so I gently opened the door and left it slightly ajar so that I could see what was happening in the bedroom. I saw Lizzie open the bedroom door to Mr. Hare and she swiftly put him at ease, offering him a glass of malt whisky which he nervously accepted. 'I think I'll join you,' said Lizzie as she poured the drinks directly from a bottle of Glenlivet on her dressing table. 'I sometimes take a glass of whisky at night with Dr Muttley, especially during the winter months.

'An occasional sip is most beneficial for the circulation, you know, as my elderly uncle Angus up in Banff will readily testify. He takes “a wee dram” of Glenlivet every night without fail and last month celebrated his seventy-fourth birthday and has never had a day's illness in his life! He sends me a bottle of Glenlivet every year at Christmas.' Then Lizzie proceeded to question Bunny Hare with great tact about his lack of opportunity to enjoy any physical relationships with members of the opposite sex. As I had already listened to the sports master's personal history, I did not even try to listen to their low voices but looked down at the magazine I had picked up from Lizzie's bedside table. I discovered, to my pleasant surprise, that I was holding the November edition of The Cremorne.

Opening the journal at random, to my amazement, I found myself reading a letter by a lady of the same name as my father's unmarried cousin, Lady Gwendolen Gaymen of Worcester, which had been sent to the readers' questions column, edited by the club's medical adviser, Doctor Jonathan Letchmore. (Lizzie has kindly loaned me her copy of this randy publication so that I can copy the letter into my diary.) The letter reads as follows:

Dear Doctor Jonathan, A gentleman friend of mine, a lieutenant with the Coldstream Guards, sports a splendid, eight and a half inch cock, with which I can find no fault. Yet, despite my protestations, he is convinced that nature has not endowed him with a large enough tool with which to satisfy me. I know he is an avid reader of this saucy magazine and I would be grateful if you would reassure him that size has little to do with the quality of a man's performance as far as fucking is concerned. Miss Gwendolen Gayman.

I read Doctor Letchmore's trenchant reply with great interest: Dear Miss Gayman, Let me reassure your friend that, to use the pithy colloquial homily of our American cousins, it isn't the size of the ship that counts, what matters is the motion of the ocean. Many girls of my acquaintance who have been fucked by Prince Kochanski of Poland (Who is generally reckoned to possess the largest prick in London Society) tell me that, whilst the Prince is an expert cocksman, after a night's romp in his bed, they tend to suffer from painfully sore cunnies the next morning.

Frankly, I am surprised that any reader of this publication needs to be reminded of this, although note the witty words of the essayist and poet, Miss Elizabeth Thomson; 'Alas, most men believe that penises come only one size – too small!' In any case, eight and a half inches is a very respectable sized cock. If he cares to make an inspection of his fellow officers' pricks, I would wager he will find that at least half have weapons of a lesser size than himself.

Incidentally, may I take this opportunity to remind our readers that the old country saw about being able to gauge the size of a man's shaft by the size of his nose is utter rubbish! It is an accepted medical fact that neither size, weight or bone structure can ever indicate the dimensions of a cock – nor of a cunt, I should add. May the gentleman take note. Doctor Jonathan Letchmore. I quietly placed The Cremorne on the floor and peeped into Lizzie's bedroom. With some difficulty I suppressed a chuckle as I saw Bunny nervously fumble with his shoe laces. Lizzie, having discarded her robe, knelt naked at his feet and I leaned forward to hear her give the novice tome much needed words of encouragement. 'Don't be nervous, Cuthbert,' she said, planting a light kiss on his flaccid tool. (Cuthbert indeed! No wonder Mr. Hare never objects when he hears his nickname bandied across the dressing room!) Lizzie continued: 'This problem must be solved, my dear man. You said yourself that it has vexed you for longer than you care to remember. At your age, virginity must be a terrible burden and it will be my pleasure to lift this yolk from your shoulders.' Bunny's hands clasped hers as he muttered: 'Will you really let me fuck you, Lizzie? You aren't just teasing me, are you?' 'No, I would be delighted if you would slide that line-looking cock in my cunney.' 'At this moment, I want to fuck you more than anything else in the world!' 'Then you shall, Cuthbert,' cooed Lizzie. She slipped her fingers around his now stiffening shaft and began massaging his cock, drawing back his foreskin to make the blunt, fleshy helmet swell and bound in her hand.

Then she jumped and lay back on the bed and told Bunny to lower himself over her. She guided his prick on its first journey through the slippery entrance to paradise and spread her legs further to enable him to push his throbbing tool further inside her cunney.

His whole body trembled, doubtless over come by the elation of finally crossing the Rubicon, but after he had slid his shaft into Lizzie's cunt, he lay motionless. She looked at him in surprise. 'Doesn't that feel nice, Cuthbert? Do be a good man and fuck me,' she urged.

Poor Bunny knew so little about how to make love that he asked in a timid voice what exactly he was supposed to do. I am sure he has since thanked his lucky stars that he was initiated into fucking by such a thoughtful and kindly teacher as Lizzie Dickerson, for some girls might have burst into laughter and teased him about his ignorance.

Lizzie simply murmured: 'It's very easy, my love. Just push in and pull out and let nature take its course until you feel the spunk rushing through your cock.' Her hands slipped down to clasp his taut arse and, despite his long period of enforced virginity, Bunny proved himself to be a quick learner. What he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm, bouncing vigorously on Lizzie's soft body.

She clawed at his jerking bum cheeks and heaved herself upwards to pull him further into her. 'A-h-h-h! A-h-h-h! A-h-h-h!' he groaned, plunging his cock deeper and deeper inside Lizzie's juicy cunt so his cock was caressed to the hilt by the slippery membrane of her love tunnel. Lizzie too was obviously enjoying plucking Mr.

Hare's cherry for I could see her lifting her bottom and rotating her hips to time with his rhythmic strokes. Then, with a little shout, the ecstatic sports master flooded her cunny. After two or three final, frantic thrusts, he removed his shrunken shaft and rolled over, panting, just like myself only a few short days ago. 'Jolly good, Cuthbert,' said Lizzie as she gently patted his limp tool which was lying across his thigh. 'I thoroughly enjoyed myself as well. But you must try to fuck more slowly as it takes longer for a lady to achieve a climax. A considerate lover will always try to hold back and wait for his lover to spend.' His face fell and he groaned: 'Oh dear, I didn't do very well, because I came to quickly for you,' 'Oh tush! You mustn't mind about that. In all honesty I never expect to climax with a novice lover,' she said, as she toyed with his slowly stiffening shaft. 'Think on this though – when you want to prolong love making, you may find it possible to stop the spunk rising from your balls by clearing your mind of sensual thoughts. Try reciting to yourself a passage from Shakespeare like Mr. Hutch- does, or even something as mundane as a list of English counties. Often, this will cool your ardour and enable you to keep fucking for at least another five minutes which can make all the difference to the girl you are pleasuring at the time.' Bunny Hare was too exhausted mentally to catch Lizzie's slip of the tongue but I immediately noted her unguarded remark about 'Mr. 'Hutch-'. I wager half a guinea that she was referring to my form master, Mr. Hutchinson. Lizzie had no intention of letting Bunny off lightly and she was now kissing his chest and slowly lowering her mouth down across his tummy. He writhed and gasped when her mouth reached his navel. She looked up and instructed: 'Cuthbert, just lie back and enjoy yourself. I presume that no girl has ever sucked your cock?' 'No never,' he gasped with barely suppressed excitement. 'Goodness, I have only read about such things – is it as pleasant as fucking?' Lizzie could not resist giving a little chuckle as she replied: 'Oh yes, very much so. Gentlemen love being sucked, and some would say they prefer a good gobble to a fuck. Let's see what you think of it.' Without further ado, Lizzie began to lick his scrotum, flicking her tongue around the hairy, pink sack. Then, she opened her lips wide and took in both of his balls, somehow managing to get them inside her mouth.

As Bunny gasped with delight, she grabbed his now fully erect truncheon in her hands and, after releasing his balls from her mouth, she started to nibble on his wide, mushroom helmet. 'Oh God, that's exquisite!' he cried out as she stuffed the purple knob inside her mouth and began to bob her head back and forth. Her lips worked furiously to capture as much of Bunny's cock as possible, until she had eased almost all of his shaft down her throat. He was in seventh heaven as Lizzie's moist tongue worked up and down, licking and lapping at every last inch of his length. Her hand held his cock steady at the base as she pumped her head up and down, her lips taut as she kissed and sucked on her fleshy sweetmeat. Suddenly, she pulled her lips away and her darting tongue lapped up the juices which were oozing out of the tiny eye of his knob. Then she jammed her mouth over his uncapped bell-end and slurped greedily as she gently massaged his balls. With a hoarse yell, Mr. Hare spunked his load down her throat and Lizzie sucked and swallowed every last drain of it until his glistening, flaccid shaft slipped out of her mouth. I was sorely tempted to toss myself off, my own cock being as tall as a flagpole, but there remained a chance that Lizzie might agree to let me fuck her again, a task for which my prick needed to be at its best, so I resisted the urge. I then heard Lizzie say: 'Now, if you would like to make further progress in l'arte de faire l'amour, come back here on Friday night and I will teach you how to suck pussey, a sadly neglected skill in this country, although it is widely practised on the continent. However, you had better leave now before we are discovered,' she concluded as she jumped out of the bed and slipped on her dressing gown. Bunny thanked her profusely whilst she dressed and was about to open the door when Lizzie said: 'Cuthbert, tell me truthfully – isn't fucking far better than playing with little boys' tools?' His face flushed as he said in a low voice: 'Ah, I was not sure if you knew about that unfortunate business. But I can honestly say that the two experiences are like chalk and cheese and any desires I have had in that quarter have been banished for good.'

'Splendid, I am sure that your sexual development will advance nicely now,' she said with satisfaction. After he left, I came out of the bathroom with my prick standing high up against my tummy as I walked towards the bed. Alas, although Lizzie said she should love to have one final fuck, she told me to get dressed and leave as I would soon have to be in my dormitory. Unfortunately, 'lights-out' is half an hour earlier tonight than during the rest of the week.

Piqued, I began to pull on my clothes whilst Lizzie remonstrated: 'Now, now, don't feel hard done by, Henry! You did the right thing by bringing Cuthbert to see me, for I am sure he will be a new man now he has finally expressed his sexual needs. Yet, you have been well rewarded and I will try to think up something special for our next tryst on Thursday afternoon with George and the new boy, your friend Johnny Bridges.' I smiled as I bent down to tie my shoe laces and said 'Fair enough, Lizzie, but you can't blame a chap for being disappointed.'

Wednesday, November 14th, 1895 (Before tea)

I must note some details of the heated discussion on the status of women in society led by Mr. Hutchinson in our civics class this morning. He asked us our opinion of the current agitation by many females to be freed from the ties of hearth and home, with specific reference to the recent clamour for political rights. I regret that most of the chaps took the side of Cheetham who declared that, in his opinion, the desire of the wild women for equality was as impossible as that of the moth for the star. In his words: 'They repudiate marriage as a one-sided tyranny, willfully neglecting the fact that the normal relationship between husband and wife must be one of control and decision on the husband's side, and of deference and submission on that of the wife. For, where two ride on a horse, one must needs rides behind.' Mr. Hutchinson asked if anyone was prepared to stand up and put forward a contrary view, and without hesitation, I raised my hand and was invited to state my case. I stood up and said: 'Most people would agree on the desirability of free trade, for if artificial restrictions on trade are removed, each country will be able to occupy itself with that industry for which it has the greatest natural advantages. 'Once we emancipate women by removing the artificial restrictions which debar them from higher education and remunerative employment, we will have granted them a fair field and no favour. There is no reason to suppose that, in any respect, women will show themselves either superior or inferior to men. Genius is a patent of individuality and the country cannot afford to let half its citizens hide their true values. I then shamelessly repeated word for word a passage from one of my father's sermons which had angered certain members of his congregation and thundered it out with gusto. I sat down to a noisy mixture of cheers and hisses and the discussion raged on with only a core of fellows-to be precise, George, Johnny, Billy Goodall and the Honourable Gerard Home – taking my side. Thus we lost the vote by a heavy margin. The bell sounded for luncheon and Mr. Hutchinson asked me stop behind a moment after he had dismissed the class. I was concerned that he might speak to me about matters appertaining to Lizzie Dickerson, but my fears were unfounded for all he did was to compliment me on my debating skills. He said with a smile: 'Keep up your attendance at the Debating Society meeting Dashwood. However, unless there is a reason to inflame those who disagree with you on a particular issue into foolish bluster, try to conciliate rather than confront your opponents. Don't forget the dagger kills just as effectively as the cutlass. It isn't wise to make enemies unnecessarily.' Of course I did not wish to embarrass my form master by asking him whether he personally supported my point of view, although I am certain that he had some sympathy with my arguments. So I thanked him for his advice and left the classroom. After depositing my books in my study, instead of going straight to the dining-hall, I thought I would stroll round to the office of Mr.

Walsall, the school secretary, who sorts the mail and leaves any letters and parcels addressed to pupils on a small table outside in the corridor. As I turned the corner, I bumped into Addington, the tyrannical prefect with whom I had the run in whilst I was speaking to Lizzie Dickerson in the quadrangle. 'Watch where you're going,' he snarled, even though he had his head in a book and it was his fault that we collided. When he looked up and saw that it was my head that had butted his chest, he threw a roundhouse swipe at me which I easily dodged and I skipped out of the way. There were two other chaps walking towards him so he could hardly take the matter further but he still bawled: Dashwood, I'll get you later, you see if I don't!' What did he have against me? I wracked my brains to think how I might have offended him as I walked up to the letter table. A letter was waiting for me, addressed in writing that was unfamiliar. I tore open the (lap of the envelope and pulled out a long letter – which I saw had the headed notepaper of Sparsit's School for Young Ladies. My heart leapt as I realised this epistle was from the gorgeous Charlotte Harley. I stuffed the letter into my jacket pocket to read when I had time to pursue it unhurriedly. After luncheon, I shamelessly used the injury to my shin (although it has now completely healed) as an excuse to skip the sixty minute period of physical training. Bunny Hare, doubtless as a reward for my sterling service the previous evening, agreed to let me leave instead of watching the other chaps go through their exercises, and so I had a chance to sit down quietly by myself in my study and read Charlotte's long letter. It reads as follows:

Dear Henry, I did so enjoy meeting you yesterday – the lecture was interesting but the high spot of my visit to the Albion Academy was the lovely fuck we enjoyed in your study! I am writing this letter in the library on Sunday afternoon when we are all supposed to write to our parents – I wrote to mine yesterday to give it to Mrs.

Osbourne so I shan't be hauled over the coals for writing to you instead. We are not supposed to write to boys but Newman, the under-gardener, will post any letters we give to him for a small financial fee. Oh, Henry, what I would only give to have your hands freely roaming across my naked body, sliding your palms slowly over my breasts, cupping my firm bosoms and rolling your fingers along my red nipples. I have taken the liberty of telling my close friends about our liaison and they are madly jealous! Well this is readily understandable, for here we are, two hundred and twenty healthy, high-spirited girls shut up in the heart of Kent without hardly a single member of the male sex to be found anywhere on the premises. It can hardly be a matter of surprise that many intimate and emotional friendships flourish amongst us. Presumably, at the Albion Academy, you are also subject to a similarly repressive regime and, deprived of any contact with the female species, corresponding passions freely abound. There is also a plethora of whispered gossip about you-know-who and so-and-so. To an extent we have lessened the mortfication of rejection and the resulting ribald comments made in scornful notes passed between desks during lessons. This has been done through a convention which has grown up at Sparsit's that, if the object of one's desire is bending over a basin having a before-lights-out wash, it is permissible to approach her from behind and gently run a finger down her spine or smooth one's hand over her bottom. If these advances are not checked, one might slowly rub one's pussey against the swelling cheeks of her bum. Often these caresses are accepted without a word being said or a head being turned!

Many times, whilst busily splashing my face with water, I have sensed a warm presence behind me and felt the delicate touch of soft hands lifting my nightdress and massaging the cheeks of my backside. I have waited in thrilling anticipation for those same hands to reach around and cup my soft breasts, squeezing and rubbing the stalky titties until they stand proudly erect with growing excitement.

And I will not deny that I have often been the instigator and quivered with delight as the pretty girl in question shyly raises her delicious bum to signal that the road ahead is clear. Then comes the magic moment when the nightdress is raised and the rosey delight of her tight, little dimpled buttocks are laid bare, first for an admiring glance and then to be kissed, stroked and perhaps lightly slapped. It is not unknown for others to join in, in a kind of 'daisy-chain' so that one finds oneself to be simultaneously both the instigator and the recipient, frigging the titties of the girl in front whilst your own cunney is being fondled by a girl behind you!

But I can hear the sound of approaching voices and must continue writing this billet doux later this evening. It is now eight o'clock and I have taken an early bath and am sitting alone on my bed in the dormitory in my nightdress. Oh, Henry, if only you were here with me now, we could roll around on the bed with our bodies glued together as we enjoyed a wonderful luck!

Instead, I must make do with playing with my own titties and close my eyes and imagine that it is not my own forefinger but your delightful, big cock which is slowly dipping into my cunny! I sincerely hope you feel the same way and would like to be with me, watching me lie back with a blissful smile whilst you thrust your thick shaft into my juicy crack. As I slip two fingers between my pussey lips, I think of how you would plunge your prick in and out of my welcoming cunt, slowly at first and then harder and faster just like I am moving my fingers now. Then I would wrap my legs around your waist and beg you to fuck me until your cock begins to twitch and the creamy spunk shoots out of your knob and splashes against the tingling walls of my love tunnel. Oooh, my cuntal juices are beginning to flow as my fingers speed in and out of my cunney and I can feel the waves of a climax overwhelming me. Is your cock stiffening up in your drawers as you read this lewd letter? I know that most boys enjoy hearing about our encounters so I will tell you of a lovely time I had with my closest chum Caroline last night. She is a lovely little wriggler of sixteen with the neatest young breasts, a slim waist and a delicious fluffy-haired pussey. We arranged to sneak upstairs to the dormitory after dinner and I locked the door behind us. Then we swiftly undressed until we were completely naked. Caroline lay down with an open jar of cream beside her on the bed. She smeared some cream on her fingers and then, turning her back to display her graceful round bum cheeks, she parted her legs and ran her fingertips along the lips of her pussey. She looked up at me with a wicked little smile upon her face and said: 'Charlotte, I hope you realise that I am only rubbing my pussey with cold cream to keep the skin soft in this area of my body.' I felt my own pussey moisten as I gazed upon Caroline while she smoothed her long fingers up and down the yielding slit of her pussey. Her breathing became more rapid as she drew up her knees and squeezed her legs together against her hand. Her eyes closed and she gurgled with delight as she began to frig herself to a spend. The sight of this was to much to bear and flinging myself down beside her, I hugged her soft, sensuous body to my own. In a trice, we were snuggled in each other's arms, softly nuzzling and cooing little endearments as we pressed our titties together and rubbed our stiff nipples against each other's flesh. As our lips met and opened, we lost ourselves in deep kisses, our tongues entwining and probing the deepest recesses of each other's mouths. I swiftly replaced Caroline's hand which was jammed between her thighs with my own. My long fingers reached out to stroke and tickle her warm, wet pussey before I moved my hand upwards to squeeze one luscious breast. I fed the other into my mouth, sucking her red, rubbery tittie and nipping the stiffened nipple lightly with my teeth.

In turn, Caroline now massaged my own yearning cunney, her fingertips gently running back and forth along the length of my juicy crack, manipulating the erect nub of my clitty so expertly, that in no time at all the clever minx brought me off- I gasped as I felt my climax approach and my body bucked and twisted as, lost in the sheer ecstasy of the moment, I gave myself up to the delicious waves of erotic abandonment which coursed through every fibre of my being.

'Darling Caro, may I lick out your sweet honeypot?' I murmured.

She kissed me and whispered: 'Of course you may, you silly girl, I would love that more than anything in the world.' The sweet girl lay down on the bed and invitingly parted her thighs as I buried my head into her fluffy fleece of pussey hair which was already fragrantly moist with her musky love juice. I slid my tongue between cunney lips and, as I licked and lapped at her aromatic cunt, I could hear her trembling sighs and her breath catching in ragged gasps of pleasure. I nibbled and kissed Caroline's delectable quim, inhaling the musky aroma of her cunt whilst my hands clasped her tight, rounded bum cheeks, and, after a minute or two, I felt her body quiver, tensing with the onset of her orgasm. Then, with a great groan of ecstatic delight, she spent over my face and I gulped down her tangy love juice. We rested for a while but the evening air was beginning to chill out naked bodies so we dressed and went downstairs to join her friends for a cup of cocoa and a chat. Henry, dearest, I must stop here as the other girls will soon he coming in to settle down for the night. So goodbye for now and write to me soon.

Lots of love, Charlotte

What a wonderful, uninhibited letter! My hands trembled as I folded the sheets of notepaper and then pulled at the front of my trousers to try to accommodate my stiffstander. For, reading Charlotte's letter had caused my cock to swell up to bursting point. Indeed, I was just about to unbutton my flies and relieve myself when there was a knock at the door. 'Come in,' I called out as I stood up and to my surprise, the school secretary, came in.

He was a most unexpected visitor for there is rarely any cause for him to venture into the boy's quarters. He said: 'Good afternoon, Dash wood, I have an urgent message for you from Dr Muttley. He has just received an important letter from your father and he would like to see you at once in his study. 'There is no need to be distressed, I understand the letter is about you taking an extra little holiday,' he added kindly when he saw a frown of concern form on my brow. However, the matter must be of some urgency for the headmaster asked me to find you as soon as possible.' 'An extra little holiday?' I repeated with surprise. 'How very strange! Still, I can think of a great many worse reasons for being called to see Dr Muttley!' I thanked Mr. Walsall and walked back with him to the headmaster's study. 'Ah, young Dashwood, just who I wanted to see,' he boomed after I had knocked on the door and entered his private domain. 'My boy, your father has written to me about a recital which the great pianist Prince Kochanski of Poland is giving tomorrow afternoon, in aid of a most worthy, charitable cause, at the home of Lord and Lady Laversham at Laversham Hall which, as you know, is only eight miles from us. 'It appears that your uncle, Sir Robert Bacon, has purchased two tickets to hear this great maestro perform in person, but unfortunately, your Aunt Jennifer has gone down with a severe head cold and is unable to accompany him. So, being aware of your love of music, your uncle has graciously offered to take you to the concert in her place, if I give my permission for you to miss school for this purpose. Sir Robert also wishes to take you out to dine and he will return you here by ten o'clock. 'Well, I know you must be delighted to hear this news, my boy, and whilst it is not my policy to encourage activities which take boys out of school during term-time, Mr. Hutchinson tells me you have been working diligently at your studies and I will not stand in your way on this occasion.

Therefore, I have sent a telegram to Sir Robert and your father informing them that I have no objection to their plans. 'My word, I envy you, for I read only recently in The Times that a leading American promoter asked Prince Kochanski to name his fee for a series of concerts in New York. Naturally this offer was refused as the Prince does not need to get himself involved in any commercial undertaking. 'So enjoy yourself, my boy, Sir Robert's carriage will be here to collect you tomorrow afternoon and I look forward to hearing all about the concert.' concluded my headmaster in a genial voice. He rose from his chair and walked across to pat me on the shoulder. 'Off you go now, and, if necessary, ask one of the servants to iron your best suit, for you'll be mixing with people from the highest echelons of Society at Laversham Hall. Of course, I was overjoyed at this news and thanked the headmaster warmly as I left his study. It was only as I was making my way to our common room to tell my chums of my good fortune that I suddenly realised that I will now miss the promised romp with Lizzie Dickerson! However, the die is now cast because I could hardly go back to Dr Muttley and say that I did not want to go with Uncle Robert to hear Prince Kochanski play.

Even if this were possible, what reason could I give? Anyhow, hopefully I have rearranged the assignment with Lizzie who understood my predicament. Certainly George and Johnny will hardly be concerned at my absence! When I went to inform Lizzie of the situation, I was just about to raise my hand and knock on her door, when it was flung open and out strode a dishevelled looking Addington! His face was flushed and he strode past me without a word, perhaps fortunately for me, not looking up to see who he was pushing out of his path.

Lizzie followed him out and looked up in surprise when she saw me standing there and said: 'Hello, Henry, what can I do for you?' I explained my predicament and, as I expected, she waved aside my apologies and remarked: 'Good heavens, if I had the opportunity to hear Prince Kochanski play, I would also be off like a shot!'

'I'm so glad you understand, Lizzie, I wouldn't want you to think I didn't fancy any more fucking,' I said with a grin. I was about to leave when I had an idea and added: 'Before I go there is one thing I would like to ask you. It's about that bounder, Addington. Why is he being so beastly to me? It's not that I've interrupted his pleasure like I did with Julian Clayton. Can you shed some light on the matter?' Lizzie puffed out her cheeks and thought carefully for a few moments before she replied: 'I think in this case I will break my rule of never discussing any boys personal problems with another, though, as ever, Henry, I will have to trust you to be completely discreet. 'To put it in a nut shell, Addington suffers from an inability to maintain an erection. His prick stays hard while he plays with my titties and even when I rub it, but he has an erectile difficulty when we attempt to fuck. I am sure that this has a great deal to do with the emphasis placed upon the immorality of sexual pleasures outside marriage at his last school. He really must rid himself of his worries about the evil consequences he will suffer unless he remains chaste until he finds a bride. 'I have told him many times that for many men, their cocks reflect the state of their emotional lives. When a man is relatively relaxed and happy, the odds are that his shaft will swell up without a problem. But if he is tense or depressed and is carrying the burden of feelings of guilt like Roger Addington, his prick will register these negative thoughts by failing to rise to the occasion. 'Alas, we haven't yet succeeded in keeping his cock up for a fuck, and I am forced to wonder whether he may, if you will forgive the pun, be more attracted to members of his own sex. In which case, he is much to be pitied for it is difficult in this country for those of that persuasion to live comfortable lives. I would have advised poor Oscar Wilde to leave these shores for France before his trial then he would not have found himself in prison.' 'Anyhow, whatever the reason, when Roger saw you talking to me he must have speculated that you had succeeded where he has so far failed and the thought that a younger boy has managed such a feat has made him angry and jealous.' 'Well I'm sorry for him but he doesn't have the right to take out his frustrations on me,'

I exclaimed warmly. Lizzie nodded her head in agreement. 'You're quite right, Henry,' she replied with a wry smile. 'And, in the circumstances, I think a simple white lie is called for – the next time I see Roger I will mention to him that I have told you that boys must wait until they reach the giddy heights of the Lower Sixth before I allow them to join my little circle.' Now that I am aware of the reason why Addington took such an instant dislike to me, I feel far easier in my mind, especially as Lizzie is taking pains to focus his anger elsewhere. I thanked her for her frank remarks, which I assured her I would not repeat to any one else at school. I took my farewell, promising Lizzie that I would attempt to secure Prince Kochanski's signature for her autograph collection.

Anonymous The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 1 PART IV. If Music Be the Food of Love Thursday, November 15th, 1895 (just before Midnight) I waited with no little impatience for this morning's lessons to pass and found it extremely difficult to concentrate on my work. I managed to get through History without being asked to contribute to the discussion, but I earned Mr. Hutchinson's scorn in Latin when I translated atque cruentum mandit humum as 'and entrusts himself to the blood-stained ground'. However, I hardly heard his scornful rebuke for I was thinking only of the concert this afternoon. I have loved good music since I was a young child and, though only of average competence on my chosen instrument, the violin, I do have the ability to appreciate the skills of a great musician such as Prince Kochanski.

My uncle, Sir Robert, is also a musical connoisseur and recently he purchased one of these new-fangled phonographs from the Army and Navy Store, together with a number of wax cylinders. However, though I marvel at the sound of Dame Nellie Melba coming from the giant horn of the machine, to be quite candid, the quality of reproduction is not of the best and the diva sounds as if she is singing inside a large tin can! Nevertheless, the phonograph is a marvellous invention and I am certain that Mr. Edison's brain-child will be improved, until one day we can hear whole symphonies being played in our drawing-rooms.

Be that as it may, at luncheon I gave my apple pie to George in order to rush back to the study as I wanted to wash and brush up and put on my best suit (as instructed by Dr Muttley) and at precisely three minutes to two, I was standing in the front hall looking down the drive for Uncle Robert's carriage. My uncle arrived almost on the dot of two and as the coachman drew the landau to a halt, my uncle opened the door and nimbly jumped out of the vehicle. He walked up the steps and came into the hall and shook hands with the headmaster who had rolled up to stand next to me. 'Thank you again for letting Henry come with me, I'll return him to you in good time as arranged,' said Uncle Robert cordially as Dr Muttley escorted us to the landau. 'Goodbye, gentlemen, I look forward to hearing all about the concert tomorrow morning,' called the headmaster. I waved back to him as the driver shook the reins and the horses clip-clopped over the gravel drive. I settled back in my seat and exchanged the usual pleasantries with Uncle Robert, but then our conversation took a surprising turn. 'Henry, my dear chap. I'm especially pleased that you have been able to come with me to Laversham Hall this afternoon,' said my uncle, looking at his pocket watch. 'For this gives me the chance to have a few private words with you.' I waited for him to explain further but he fell silent. I looked at Uncle Robert enquiringly and said: 'By all means, sir, what is it you wanted to say to me?' But Uncle Robert remained silent and I noticed that he did not look in the pink of condition. 'Uncle, are you feeling well? Forgive me saying so, but you look somewhat tired.' I enquired. He roused himself and muttered: 'I am, my boy, quite damnably tired and I'll tell you why. Do you remember Maria, that buxom young scullery maid your aunt engaged earlier this year?' 'Y-e-s-s, I think so,' I replied carefully, although of course only a few days ago I had recounted to Johnny and George how, on my last visit to Bacon Lodge, I had heard two of the housemaids gossiping about how Maria had earned a gold sovereign from my uncle for tossing him off. 'H'mph, I thought you might, young Henry,' said Uncle Robert and then he sighed and continued: 'Gad, she's a wanton little minx and, knowing as I do that you're a chip off the old block, I wondered whether you had poked her on your last visit to Bacon Lodge. I looked at him in slack-jawed amazement – was I dreaming or did this coarse comment really come from the lips of my esteemed uncle, the highly respected patron of the arts and close friend of such eminent personages as the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Dunton Green, Lord and Lady Laversham and even His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales? 'Come, come, Henry, there is no need to beat about the bush,' he said impatiently. 'I know you are no longer ignorant of these matters. Mrs. Mutkin informed me how she discovered you in my library engrossed in reading Mustapha Pharte's fascinating book on Eastern sexual practices. So I repeat, did you fuck Maria?'

'No, Uncle, I did not,' I stammered, not daring to admit I would very much have liked to. Uncle Robert grunted: 'You would have enjoyed the experience, my lad, she has the most enchanting little pussey which is always eager to welcome my old todger and that's why I'm so damnably tired. Young Maria is quite insatiable. For the last week or so, I've spent at least three hours a day lucking her until I've reached a point of total exhaustion.' He let out a heavy sigh and went on: 'Marriage is an excellent and most proper institution and I trust that when the time comes, you will have as satisfying and as comfortable a relationship as that granted to me with your aunt. However, when one's spouse loses interest in nuptial relations, it is a great temptation to look elsewhere for the pleasures of the flesh.' Uncle Robert looked hard at me and then he leaned forward and said: 'Now, Henry, the reason I am talking of these matters is simply this – several of the distinguished guests at this afternoon's concert have also succumbed to the lure of forbidden fruit, including an illustrious royal gentleman at the very highest level of Society. Now, being a smart lad, you have perhaps already guessed to whom I am referring.' It was not difficult for me to know whom he meant, for the bedroom antics of the heir to the throne are regularly documented in the pages of scurrilous French publications as well as in The Oyster and other homegrown journals of voluptuous reading. “The Prince of Wales, Uncle Robert?' I answered brightly and he put a finger to his lips as he nodded.

'Correct, my boy, and as Lady Laversham has had to hasten away to be at the bedside of a sick relative, Lord Charles has taken the opportunity to arrange a further entertainment after the concert for a selected number of his guests. I am one and, now that you have reached the age of sixteen, I thought it appropriate that you too should be invited to participate in the fun. It's about the right time that you discovered the joys of, to use the common vernacular, dipping your wick. 'However, it is far from being a compulsory command, and it will be no trouble to arrange transport for you if you would prefer to go back to school immediately after Prince Kochanski has finished his performance. Either way, though, you must treat this matter as strictly confidential,' I hastened to assure him that I would be delighted to take part in whatever bacchanalian delights had been planned and felt it beholden on me to confess that I was no stranger to such pleasures. 'This will not be my first fuck, Uncle Robert. I cannot disclose the name of my partner but I have already been introduced to the joys of love-making by a most kind and considerate partner.' 'Have you, begad? Well, the best of luck to you. And I applaud your reticence in not naming your amorata. Only cads sully a lady's reputation by telling tales in this manner. I am pleased though that you have gone through your rite of passage unscarred. First love can be a most magnificent business – or a disastrous fiasco and you have been fortunate in having a lover who was able to guide you through the experience. 'Most people would say that strict regulations must be upheld with regard to sexual relations or the very fabric of society will fall apart. I disagree and say that if we eased the rigid control of sexual information and encouraged a freer, more enlightened attitude to fucking, there would be far less social tensions in the country – but that's another issue and as those to whom I propound my ideas class me as a dangerous radical, simply because I do not believe in any rules except those of nature, we had best talk of other matters and pursue that particular subject when you are older and more experienced in such affairs.' He sat back and abruptly changed the subject. 'How is your postage stamp collection coming along, Henry? Philately can be a financially rewarding hobby these days. I purchased an 1854 Indian four rupee stamp with the Queen's head printed upside down from Messrs Stanley Gibbons for fifty pounds six years ago. Your aunt upbraided me for my extravagance but only last week I sold it back to them for three times that amount!'

Uncle Robert looked at me with satisfaction as I congratulated him on his coup though I did not feel it impolite to add: 'Unfortunately, I do not have any capital to speculate on stamps, although one of the chaps at school told me that the most valuable stamp in my album, the fourpenny 1861 Cape of Good Hope, is now worth at least sixty pounds.' 'Oh yes, and I would judge that to be a conservative estimate even for a used copy,' remarked my uncle. 'My old friend Sir Ronald Dunn, who you will meet this afternoon, recently paid three hundred and twenty-five pounds for an unused copy.'

Soon we swung into the gates of Laversham Hall and when we entered the imposing mansion, a footman took our coats. We were announced by the butler as we walked into the sumptuously furnished drawing room. Uncle Robert introduced me to Lord Laversham and I heard him mutter: 'My nephew was sixteen last week, Charles. The entertainment you are laying on after the concert will be a capital birthday present for the young scamp.' Amongst the other notable people present, whose faces appear regularly in the weekly illustrated papers, were Sir Ronald Dunn, Sir Dunton Green, Lady Linda Wantman and of course His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. My uncle whispered to me: 'Bertie was going to bring the. Countess of Warwick this afternoon but when he heard that Charles Laversham was organising some racy amusement, he decided to come along unaccompanied.' At three o'clock we filed behind Lord Laversham and the Prince of Wales into the ballroom where the concert was to take place. 'Charles bought a new Bechstein Grand just for this performance,' said Uncle Robert as we took our seats in the fourth row. 'Set him back a hundred and fifty guineas, but then you couldn't very well ask Prince Kochanski to perform on a Bluthner upright piano.' 'No, of course not,' I agreed. Then, to a round of applause, the Prince walked on to the stage with a pretty blonde girl who was required to turn the pages of his music. The Prince was a tall, singularly handsome gentleman, whole face was illumined by large, soulful, brown eyes. He spoke in perfect though slightly accented English as he thanked us for our support of the two charitable institutions which would benefit from his performance – the Musicians Benevolent Home in Croydon and the East Milk Funds. Then, without further ado, he sat down at the piano and began to play. He opened with some Chopin waltzes and then, one of my favourite pieces of music, Mozart's Sonata in D Major. My mother, no mean pianist herself, often plays this brilliant composition although it would be foolish to compare her performance with that of Prince Kochanski. To begin with, the sound which emanates from our old upright instrument cannot be compared with that from Lord Laversham's superb new full-size grand piano, although, having said that, in all honesty I thought the Prince played the allegro slightly too fast and his performance could have benefited from a shade less rubato. During the interval, I said as much to Uncle Robert who did not disagree with me. But the second half of the concert was quite superb. To the audience's delight, after three Mendelssohn lieder, the Prince announced that a gentleman sitting in the back row would join him in a performance of Schubert's 'Fantasia for Piano Duet in F Minor.' 'Good heavens, I didn't know that Motkalevitch was in Britain,' exclaimed my uncle, rising to join the standing ovation given to the great Russian pianist as he smilingly walked up the hall to the stage. Suffice it to say that the two men played the lovely music divinely and as an encore they gave us the third molto allegro movement of Mozart's 'Sonata for Two Pianos in D Major'. Then the guest of honour, the Prince of Wales, made a short speech of thanks to the two artists for their wonderful performances, and with Lady Wantman on his arm, led the audience back into the drawing room whilst Lord Laversham's staff removed all the chairs to enable them to set out a splendid tea. 'Just eat a slice of bread and butter and don't stuff yourself with too much cake, Henry,' advised Uncle Robert.

'You'll need to be in first class physical condition for what's going to follow after the guests who have not been invited to stay on make their farewells.' With some regret, I took his advice and refused the offer of a second piece of the delicious madeira cake. But, within the next hour, I was extremely glad that I had heeded my uncle's wise counsel. Soon the Prince of Wales, Sir Ronald Dunn, Uncle Robert and myself, were the only guests left in the drawing room, whilst Lord Laversham was escorting Lady Wantman to her carriage. 'A damned pretty woman Lady Linda,' growled the Prince to Sir Ronald who Uncle Robert tells me is a wealthy businessman and philanthropist who is a member of the Prince's coterie of Anglo-Jewish friends. 'It's a great pity that she doesn't really approve of poses plasties. Still, on the other hand, gentlemen, I understand that Charlie Laversham has several very pretty girls waiting upstairs for our delectation.' he added.

Lord Laversham caught the end of the Prince's remark as he came back into the room. 'Indeed I have, sir, and they are ready and waiting to perform. Um, Prince Kochanski will be joining us too. I hope you have no objection to his presence.' 'Absolutely none,' rejoined the heir to the throne with a chuckle. 'Konrad Kochanski and I are old friends. In fact, we enjoyed a roaring good time in Paris last Spring at Count Gewirtz's mansion on the Rue de la Paix.' Then he turned to my uncle and went on: 'Now then, Sir Robert, I take it that this lucky, young chap is your nephew who is keen to sow his first wild oats?' 'Yes your Highness, may I present Master Henry Dashwood.' I bowed and the Prince patted me on the shoulder and said: 'You'll enjoy yourself, you lucky young feller-me-lad. My God, I was almost twenty-one before I managed to dip my wick when I was with the Grenadier Guards in Ireland. I opened my mouth to reply but felt the point of Uncle Robert's elbow digging in my ribs. Perhaps he thought I might be foolish enough to boast to His Royal Highness that I had already enjoyed my first fuck, but I was too shy to brag about my conquests, and, in any case, even I realised that it would have been tactless to push forward my early apprenticeship in making love when the Prince had been such a late starter in the game. 'We'll just give the girls five more minutes to set up the stage,' said Lord Laversham. 'In the meantime, let me tell you a strange encounter I had with Lady Hostridge's daughter, when dining at some mutual family friends last week. My wife was unable to be present so I spent most of the time talking to Nora, who proved to be a delightful table companion. She's a pretty girl of about twenty-five, with enchantingly wistful, bright blue eyes, a demure Grecian nose and a soft, yet bold, tremulous mouth. 'In the drawing-room after the meal, we happened to stray upon the subject of these blessed wild women and their demand for the political franchise. Well, Nora took their part in no small way and ended by saying that the forthcoming new century will see a great change in the lives of men and women. '“I don't say that women will become the stronger sex, but we will be able to behave as men do at the present time,” she opined. I shook my head and was surprised when she murmured words to the effect that I should say aloud how much I would like to see the two pictures she had recently purchased from the Grove Gallery. 'Well, I did as she ordered and we went outside together where, instead of taking me to see the pictures, she dragged me up the stairs to her bedroom.' 'I'm sure you didn't need much dragging,' observed Sir Ronald Dunn lightly.

'What happened next?' Lord Laversham gave a hoarse laugh and continued: 'She said to me: “I will attempt to give you an example of what I mean by equal roles, Charles.” She paused, looked me directly in the eye and said: “Yes, I will try but you must understand that I am not one of your blue-stockinged, intellectual, types. To be blunt, I have feminine needs that must be satisfied.” 'I swallowed hard and said: “Do you mean you want fucking?” 'Nora drew herself up to her full height and nodded curtly as she replied bluntly: “It is my chief enjoyment in life to instigate such entertainment. This is precisely why I would like you to take off your trousers and ease your prick into my pussey.” 'She threw herself backwards upon the bed, hitching up her dress and petticoats as she raised her knees and parted her legs. The wanton, little minx was not wearing any kind of drawers and I could see the dark, hairy triangle of pubic curls fleecing the dainty, pink lips of her honeypot. I ripped off my trousers and without further ado, I lowered myself upon her. The lovely girl was clearly experienced in these affairs. There was none of the clumsy fumbling that so often attends fucking a novice. My throbbing cock immediately slipped through the already damp thicket of pussey hair and I found the moist entrance into her love channel.

'She wriggled her bottom into a more comfortable position and almost without effort, the entire length of my shaft sank into her cunt. Slowly, I started to slide easily up and down her clinging crack and she in turn arched her hips upwards to meet my pistoning thrusts.

She possesses a wonderful sense of timing, understanding as though by instinct, when to lower the tension so that pleasure may be prolonged.

'I endeavoured to keep my weight on my elbows as we raised the tempo and I gloried in each huge plunge into her honeypot, making her juices drip on to my balls each time they slapped against her arse.

She implored me to drive deeper, twirling her tongue inside my mouth and as my trusty tool rammed in and out of her pulsating quimmy, she yelped with pleasure. 'Then, with a shudder, I spurted a copious emission into her cunt. But alas, Nora had not reached a climax. My old pego was incapable of further combat, so naturally I finger fucked her until she achieved a spend.' The Prince of Wales nodded gravely and said: 'As would any true gentleman, my dear friend. Now, will the poses plastiques be ready soon? I have only a limited amount of time I can stay here before I return to London.' 'Yes, let's go back to the ballroom,' said Lord Laversham and he and His Royal Highness led the way. I could see from the bulge in the royal trousers that, like myself, he was sporting a gigantic stiffie. Konrad Kochanski rose from his seat when we entered the ballroom and I noticed that he had changed out of his frock coat and was wearing only a dressing-gown knotted with a cord at the waist. My uncle murmured to Sir Ronald Dunn: 'A bit chilly to start stripping off, don't you think, Ronnie? Or is our Polish friend following this strange new naturist fad of running around naked in the cold air?'

'It's quite possible, you know how peculiar some of these foreign chappies can be,' Sir Ronald replied. An under-butler arranged a semi-circle of seats in front of the stage, across which a purple velvet curtain had been draped. 'I've just come back from Sweden where, for reasons of health, people sit naked on benches in a wooden hut heated by hot steam, after which they subject themselves to a light beating with birch twigs and then dive into a cold pool of water.' Uncle Robert shuddered with horror and said: 'Good grief!

How perfectly awful! it reminds me of life at my old school where the headmaster subjected us boys to a similar regime every morning.'

At this point, the lights dimmed and a striking, red-haired girl dressed in a flowing, green robe slipped between the curtains and curtsied to us. 'Your Royal Highnesses, Gentlemen, welcome to our programme of tableaus vivants by the Company of Three, written by Mr.

Newman Gradegate and directed by Mr. Brooke Harrison-Thomas. 'Our first little play is entitled Three Naughty Schoolgirls.' She disappeared back behind the curtains to a buzz of excited conversation which stilled a few moments later when the curtains opened to reveal a scene set in a school dormitory. The red-haired girl was sitting on a bed between two others, a blonde with long, flowing hair and a tall, willowy brunette. All three were wearing long, white nightgowns which they had tucked up to the waist leaving their legs and thighs bare.

They were cuddling and stroking each other's bodies. Then the red-head turned to her blonde companion and said: 'Well, Sally, I don't think the boy who kissed you at the dance your parents threw for you, is coming here after all.' 'I'm sure Harry will turn up, Marcia,' said the beautiful blonde Sally as she ran her hands down the other girl's thigh. 'Do remember, Marcia, that he has to bicycle three miles to get here. When he does, he can climb the ladder we left against the wall up to the window where we will let him in.' 'I suppose we must give the lad time,' sighed Marcia, turning round to the third girl as she continued: 'Penny, don't you agree that it is rather trying having to wait so long to see whether Harry does make an appearance, especially as it can't be guaranteed that he will be able to fuck us all. 'Yes, what a shame, I was looking forward to seeing Harry fuck Sally!' pouted Penny. Then Marcia slipped her hand between her thighs.' Like the other five spectators, I craned my head to see if Marcia was indeed fingering Penny's pussey as she replied: 'You silly girl, of course you will see that happen. What is more important is whether Sally will share his cock with her two best friends.' The blonde girl looked reproachfully at her as she said: 'Now, how could you even think that I would keep Harry's thick prick for my sole pleasure? Did we not all agree that our motto will be like the Three Musketeers – one for all and all for one? Darling Penny, dearest Marcia, you are my bosom friends and I know that if either of you were in my position, you would not hesitate to offer me a share in your good fortune.' The three girls dissolved into an orgy of hugs and cuddles, during which, Penny cried out fervently: 'Ooooh, which of you naughty girls is tickling my cunney? Whoever it is, please stop teasing and bring me off right now.' 'Very well, my love, if that is what you want,' said Marcia as she pulled off her nightdress to reveal her glorious nude body to us. My cock swelled to bursting point as I watched her proud, young breasts jiggle as she helped Penny divest herself of her nightdress, tugging the garment over the tousled head of the tall, slender girl. Penny's breasts were also firm and high-tilted, if slightly smaller than those of her friend, but her pussey was well-covered by a fleece of chestnut hair whilst Marcia's cunt was only fledged with a fuzzy, auburn down. Still in her nightdress, Sally slipped away off the stage leaving the two girls kissing in a most lascivious manner on the bed. Lord Laversharh then stepped forward and asked if someone would be good enough to help him move the bed round so that we could all obtain a better view of what was taking place upon it and immediately I jumped from my seat and volunteered to assist him. I followed him up on the stage and we moved the bed round until it was facing the audience.

When we returned to our seats, Penny turned over on to her tummy and buried her face in the pillows. Then she pushed her splendid bottom high into the air so that all the watching spectators could obtain a thrilling view of her dimpled bum cheeks. From her side, Marcia moved her thighs slightly apart to expose the pouting lips of her cunney and the line of pink coral between them. 'My goodness, Penny, you are a lucky girl! What a perfect backside! So white and firm, and so well developed! Oh, how inviting that dear little cleft looks between your thighs,' exclaimed Marcia as she moulded and pressed the soft, white buttocks, smothering them with passionate wet kisses. 'Oh, I must – I must!' And, without further ado, she slipped her forefinger between Penny's pouting love lips and twisted it in and out of her juicy honeypot. 'There, does that feel nice?' Marcia panted as she finger fucked the delicious girl. 'I would think you do from the way your cunney is clasping my finger so tightly! Ah, I've found your clitty! Goodness me, what a stiff little love button!' 'Oh, that's heavenly, dearest Marcia!' came a muffled cry from the pillow, and at this, the red haired girl rolled Penny over on to her back and spread her thighs so that we could see the enticing red chink between her wet, swollen cunney lips.

Marcia paused for a moment to savour the musky aroma of her pussey which had wafted across to where I was sitting. Then she placed herself between Penny's legs and she rubbed the girl's bouncy breasts, making the titties stand up as she informed us about how she was going to slide her tongue into Penny's pussey and play with her stiff, rubbery clitty. Then she nested her head between her thighs and lovingly began to eat Penny's juicy cunt, forcing her tongue deep into her love channel and nipping at her clitty. The willowy girl bucked and writhed under this sweet stimulation, yelping with joy, as she was sucked off. Marcia's bum cheeks jiggled excitingly whilst she licked and lapped Penny up to a spend and she opened her legs so that her own prominent pussey was displayed to the excited male spectators.

Now, still in her nightdress, Sally briefly reappeared on the side of the stage before descending the steps and padding across to the Prince of Wales. Kneeling beside his chair, she deftly unbuttoned his trousers, freeing the majestic regal cock to leap stiffly into the air. The blonde girl boldly took his pulsing shaft into her hands and said: 'Your Majesty, I have an idea that you would like to fuck Marcia's pretty little auburn-haired cunt-but Lord Laversham promised me first refusal of your fine-looking royal rod. So with your permission…' And so saying she took the huge, domed helmet of the Prince's prick into her mouth, sucking greedily upon his twitching todger whilst reaching down to delicately finger his balls. Sally nibbled daintily on his purple knob and the Prince gave a throaty chuckle of delight. Sir Ronald Dunn called out in a fruity voice: 'Now then, my dear, don't forget that every mouthful should be well chewed before it is swallowed!' The Prince trembled under the vibrations of Sally's giggles as her lips closed firmly over his cock and this time she pursued an insistent passage right down to the very root of his shaft. With his eyes closed and a blissful expression upon his face, the Prince pressed her head down as he sat back and revelled in the exquisite sensations. Sally sucked vigorously on the fleshy royal pole, lashing her tongue along its quivering length until he could no longer delay his spend and with a hoarse gasp, flooded her mouth with a copious emission of sticky spunk. Swallowing and sucking with adeptness, Sally quickly drained his balls and then, licking the last few drops of jism from his knob, she placed his happy but now wilting cock in the palm of her hand and gave it a swift series of farewell butterfly kisses before tucking it away inside his trousers. She lifted her head and said: 'Well, I'm still waiting for Harry to appear, but won't one of you gentlemen fuck poor Marcia. Look at how her bum is wriggling, she is waiting for one of you to take her doggie-style.' Prince Konrad Kochanski stood up and murmured: 'Noblesse oblige, although I will gladly step aside if anyone else is most desperate to fuck this charming girl.' The famous musician shucked off his dressing gown and, stark naked, he climbed up on to the stage, his enormous thick cock bobbing up and down in front of him. Then he jumped up on the bed and nudging her knees apart, positioned his enormous truncheon between Marcia's bum cheeks.

'Are you ready?' he asked. Marcia turned a flushed face towards him and gave him a beaming smile of assent. Then he guided his gleaming knob slowly into the cleft between her buttocks and straight into the warm wet folds of her quim. They began to mate in a brisk, regular rhythm. He bent forward and his hairy chest brushed against Marcia's back as she went back to licking out Penny's pussey.

'Ahhhh! Ahhh! fuck me, you randy rascal!' she gasped as Konrad Kochanski reached under her to cup her plump breasts, holding them in thrall as he continued to pump in and out of her juicy cunney. Her bottom slapped enticingly against his flat, muscled belly as she fitted easily into the rhythm and I for one relished the sight of his pulsating, veined chopper see swaying and out of her willing cunt.

Now Marcia reached behind her to caress his big ball-sack as she rocked to and fro, but it was Penny climaxed first. Marcia licked and lapped up her tangy love juice. Then Konrad Kockanski's torso went rigid and he croaked out, 'Marcia, I'm going to spunk!' Marcia yelped with glee as she spent simultaneously with him, drenching his noble tool with her love juices. He gave one final drawn-out thrust and then sank down on to the girls, who giggled uncontrollably as he tickled their pussies with his hands and they all rolled around on the big, wide bed. Sally reappeared on stage with Konrad Kochanski's dressing gown which she threw at him as she shooed the lewd threesome off the bed. 'I'm expecting Harry Elton at any minute,' she explained as the Polish Prince slipped on his robe and with a naked girl on each arm, descended the steps back to his seat. However, Sir Ronald Dunn pinched Marcia's bottom as she walked by and, letting go the Prince's arm, she sat herself down firmly upon his lap. 'You naughty man,' she protested, although I could see a wicked smile upon her face as she went on: 'How would you like it if I pinched your cock?' 'I don't think I would mind all that much,' said the lascivious baronet, sliding one hand across her young, rosy-nippled breasts whilst, with the other, he dexterously unbuttoned his trousers and brought out his sizeable circumcised shaft for her inspection.

'M'm, that cock looks too nice to pinch,' remarked Marcia as she slid her hand up and down his throbbing tool. 'Thank you, my dear, and I'm sure you can do something hitter than pinching it, can't you?' chuckled Sir Ronald as she gave his stiffie an encouraging rub, fisting both hands up and down his rock-hard tool. Marcia winked at him and then her silky, red hair billowed over his thighs as she buried her head in his groin and lapped all around his mushroom helmet. Then she took her mouth away from his twitching todger and said with commendable directness: 'I don't mind sucking you off afterwards but first, how about a good old-fashioned fuck?' 'By all means,' he replied instantly. 'If you will just get off my lap for a moment, I'll get undressed.' As Sir Ronald struggled to tear off his clothes, Marcia teased him, sliding her hand across her auburn thatch of pussey hair, rubbing her thumb in a series of tapping movements against her erect clitty which had already popped out of its shell and was peeking through her cunney lips. As soon as the lusty Sir Ronald was naked, Marcia pulled him down by his quivering cock on to the thick carpet and she held on tightly to his prick as they kissed and his hands moved over her thrilling, soft body with practiced ease. He moved his lips from Marcia's pretty mouth to her luscious tawny-tipped breasts and licked first one and then the other until both were deliciously erect. At this point, I heard a gentle sigh coming from my right and glanced over to see that Penny was kneeling between Uncle Robert and Lord Laversham, her left hand clasped around my uncle's palpitating stiffstander and the fingers of her right hand clutched around Lord Laversham's substantial boner. She bent her head downwards, first to the left and then to the right to give each cock a slurping wet kiss. Then my attention turned back to Marcia and Sir Ronald. He was now licking the soft, white skin of her belly and then onwards down into her glossy, auburn bush.

Inexorably, his tongue passed down the length of her cunney lips and she moaned with delight as the handsome baronet feasted upon her tasty pussey, licking every inch of her cunney lips before sucking them into his mouth and sliding his tongue inside her cunt. 'Oooh! Sir Ronald, you wicked man,' she squealed happily, her bottom wriggling from side to side as he probed her pussey with his tongue. 'Now stick that gorgeous big cock inside my honeypot – hard and fast, that's how I like to be fucked!' 'Who am I to argue?' he murmured and pulled himself on top of her as Marcia placed his knob directly in front of her pouting pussey lips. He slid home easily and started to thrust in and out of her sopping quim with a firm, pistoning grace and their bodies slapped together as she met each of his plunges with one of her own. Sir Ronald started to pump faster and I could not only see but hear the highly erotic, squelchy sounds of their lovemaking as his shaft slid in and out of her juicy love tunnel. I was reminded that I was not the sole spectator of this grand fuck, for the Prince of Wales had quietly moved across to stand next to me and he whispered 'Go to it, Ronnie! Rattle your balls against her bum, old boy! By gad, what a superb couple they make I only wish it were my prick slewing in and out of that squishy, young pussey!' Marcia now shifted her thighs as Sir Ronald Dunn drove on like a man possessed, fucking her at such an intense speed that I could not see how he could hold back his spend for more than a few seconds. 'More! More! More!' the girl panted wildly. The fierce momentum must have made her pussey flood with love juice for it trickled down her thighs. She brought her legs up to the small of Sir Ronald's back,. humping the lower half of her body upwards to meet the violent strokes of his raging rammer as he bore down on her one final time. His lean, muscled frame was now glistening with perspiration. His body tensed and with a low growl, he spent into her cunt. Marcia swiftly squeezed her thighs together, forcing out every last drain of cum from his spurting length, not releasing him until she had finished milking his cock completely dry.

It occurred to me that I was now the only one of the spectators who had not participated in this voluptuous orgy. However, I only had a few moments to concern myself about this fact because, to my astonishment, from the stage, Sally's sweet clear voice rang out with a message for me: 'Henry Dashwood, where are you? Obviously, Harry Elton has been unable to find a way out of his school buildings and I have no-one to fuck me this evening. So will you come up here and help out a poor cockless girl?' 'Go on, lad, don't be shy,' boomed the Prince Of Wales as he pulled me to my feet. 'Believe me, I know how tiresome an unwanted virginity can be at your age and Sally knows this is your first time and she's as keen as mustard to take your cherry.'

Well, truth to tell, I almost succumbed to a foolish pride which wanted to make His Royal Highness aware that he was mistaken and that I was not a totally inexperienced cocksman. But my more sensible side asserted itself and I stayed silent. Sally took hold of my hand as I walked on to the stage and sat me down on the bed. Then, in one quick movement, she pulled her nightdress over her head and stood naked in front of me. She was a truly breathtakingly desirable girl with her long strands of honey hair framing her adorable face and her sparkling blue eyes and merry smile. Sally's superbly rounded breasts were narrowly spaced and her large, tawny titties jutted out arrogantly as she smoothed her hands over the flaxen fleece of pussey hair. Between her rounded thighs I could see her erect clitty and, as she spun round to throw her nightdress on the bed, I was given a first class view of her luscious buttocks. 'Do you like my bottom?' enquired Sally as she guessed the direction of my gaze. She put her hands on the bed and thrust out her magnificent backside toward me.

'You may touch my arse if you like.' I stretched out my trembling hands and smoothed my fingers along the yielding, jouncy flesh. She giggled softly and said: 'Aren't my bum cheeks firm and round?'

My face flushed beetroot red at her frank question as I answered: 'They're really lovely. May I keep my hands there?' 'Of course you may, Henry,' she trilled, swinging her arm behind her and running her hand along the bulge in my trousers. 'And if you slide your hand under my bum, you will find my cunney which would love to make your acquaintance.' Sally straightened up and turned back to me as she added: 'Come now, let me see how quick you can take off your clothes!'

I threw off my clothes without the slightest inhibition though, at the back of my mind, I was aware that the Heir to the Throne of the United Kingdom and the British Empire, let alone my Uncle Robert and five other gentleman were watching my every move. These thoughts were swiftly banished as the roving hands of the beautiful girl took possession of my rigid cock and she gently massaged my swollen shaft.

She breathed into my ear: 'Henry, are you really only sixteen? This is a grand looking cock that any man would be proud of, it's large enough for a man of twice your age. Do tell me, have you ever used this proud prick for anything else except tossing yourself off?' With my hands behind my back, I crossed my fingers and replied: 'No, though I do have a friend who rubs it for me.' 'Good for her, but it's high time you put your chopper to some real use,' she declared as she lay down on the bed and placed one pillow beneath her head and the other underneath her bottom. Then Sally parted her cunney lips with her finger, opening up the enchanting, red chink for me as I climbed on top of her and, taking hold of my shaft, she coaxed the knob between the yielding lips into her tight, clinging cunney. I pushed forward gently and the sensuous girl began to breathe heavily as I thrust my palpitating cock in and out of her moistening honeypot.

She raised herself to meet my strokes as I fucked her, pumping to and fro at an ever quickening pace. I snaked one hand underneath her to squeeze her luscious bum cheeks and with the other I rubbed her stalky nipples between my fingers. Watching the previous erotic spectacles had excited us both so much that, very soon, we were both on the brink of spending. After only a short time, Sally screamed: 'Oh yes, that's delightful! Ram your fat cock into me, Henry! Ahh, what a glorious fuck! Now empty your balls and fill my cunney with your sticky seed!' My cock continued to pound away and when she reached down and caressed my balls, I spent almost at once. With a long cry I spurted my creamy spunk into her sopping quim, working my shaft in and out until the last drops of jism trickled out and I sank down exhausted upon her. 'Well done, young Henry! You're a chip off the old block and no mistake,' I heard my uncle call out as he congratulated me on my performance. 'I could hardly have done better myself.' 'Yes, well done, indeed, I came twice before you spunked,' added Sally with a cheerful grin. 'I can hardly believe that this was your first fuck.' I looked down to where the men were sitting and saw they were all busily engaged in fucking in one form or another with the other two girls. Mania was gobbling the thick, upright prick of the Prince of Wales whilst she fisted her right hand up and down Lord Laversham's rigid rod and Penny was on her hands and knees sucking Sir Ronald Dunn's circumcised cock whilst she was being bum-fucked by Konrad Kochanski and Uncle Robert was on his back with his face between her thighs licking out her pussey. 'Actually, I am guilty of fibbing to you,' I said quietly to Sally and, without giving any details of where my initiation had taken place, I confessed that I crossed the border into manhood last week. Sally nodded and said with a smile. 'Well, I can't say that I'm surprised, you're a very exciting lover, Henry, and I would like you to fuck me again.'

'Alas, I don't think I can get another hard-on for a few minutes,' I said regretfully as I glanced down to my limp prick.

Sally placed her hand on my arm and said: 'Never mind, you can bring me off with your mouth. Have you ever done that before?'

'Yes, and I'd be delighted to pleasure you in that manner,' I replied. I pressed the delectable girl to me as our lips met in a passionate kiss. Then, remembering my instruction from Lizzie Dickerson, I released my tongue from the sweet prison of her mouth and let it travel wetly down her body, lingering to lick each of her engorged, erect nipples before sliding across her white tummy and down to her delectable cunt. I was flat on my belly and Sally wrapped her thighs around my neck as I worked my face into the silky golden hair of her bush. I placed one hand under her bottom for the purposes of elevation and with the other, I spread her pouting love lips with my thumb and middle finger. I moved my face forward and nuzzled my lips against her pungent pussey which was already oozing rivulets of tangy liquid and flicked my tongue in and out of her delectable cunt, sucking and slurping the cuntal juice. Sally started to writhe in ecstasy as I pushed my mouth hard against her, moving my head back and forth until I found her clitty and sucked it into my mouth, where the tip of my tongue began to explore it from all directions. I could feel it growing larger as her feet drummed up and down on my back.

'Y-e-s-s! Y-e-s-s! Y-e-s-s!' she moaned, gyrating her pelvis as I increased the pressure. My tongue moved even more quickly along the grooves of her cunney, licking and lapping the juices that were now flowing out in a stream. With each stroke, Sally arched her body in ecstasy, pressing her erect clitty up against my flutter ing tongue.

She let out a joyous yell as I inserted my little finger into her bum-hole and she spent copiously, flooding my face with her jism.

When she had recovered, Sally rolled me over on to my back and slicked her hand furiously up and down my thickening shaft until my prick stood up as stiff as a poker. Then she straddled my body, with her legs either side of my hips, before lowering herself upon my quivering cock. My knob slid deep inside her dripping cunt at the first attempt as our pubic bones ground together. For a brief moment she paused, like a rider testing a new mount. Then she clamped her cunney muscles around my shaft and I lay back with a seraphic smile on my face, enjoying to the full the clinging silkiness of her love tunnel. I tried to ram my prick upwards but Sally had deliberately placed her weight upon my thighs so that I was unable to do so, for it was her wish to direct this fuck. She pumped her glorious bum up and down, digging her fingernails into my flesh and each of her voluptuous shoves was accompanied by wails of ecstasy. I grabbed her jiggling, creamy breasts and moved my head upwards to suck on the erect nipples whilst she rode me faster and faster. The tingling in my cock became stronger and stronger and I felt the first gush of spunk forcing its way up from my balls. Sally sensed I was about to come and slowed down now riding me with long, steady movements of her supple thighs. This delayed my climax for a little while but then my shaft started to twitch and I jetted a spray of sticky spunk inside her cunt. Sally began spending with me and the muscular contractions of her quim increased as her orgasm roared through her. She fell forwards into my arms shaking and yelping with delight as her pussey overflowed with our mutual jism. 'Thank you, dear Henry, that was another splendid fuck,' she whispered in my ear as we lay panting with exhaustion. Meanwhile, all around us, the fun had become fast and furious. The Prince of Wales was fucking Marcia from behind whilst at the same time, she was gobbling on both Sir Ronald Dunn's thick tool and Lord Laversham's sturdy shaft. Uncle Robert was embedded in Penny's tight, little bottom whilst Konrad Kochanski was beneath her, nibbling on her clitty. Finally, the girls begged to be excused on account of the soreness of their cracks.

Lord Laversham then presented each of us with a robe and showed us into the cloakrooms where we were able to make our ablutions.

Dinner was to be served early as, like Uncle Robert and myself, the Prince of Wales had to leave Laversham Hall at an early hour. Our host then introduced three more pretty girls who were to dine with us – Claire and Phoebe, whose duties in a gentleman's club in London had prevented their earlier arrival and a local lass, Laura Macfarlane, a striking, big-breasted girl. I am finding that I am always famished after a good fuck and I have no complaints about the menu which was far better than the grub served at Albion Academy: Saumon d'Ecosse fume, Tortue Clair, Sole au vin blanc, Selle d'Agneau, Bouquetiere de legumes, Pommes de terre boulangere, Glace Vanille, Selection des Fruits, Cafe. This feast was washed down with a selection of the finest wines from the famed Laversham cellars and we had a very jolly time. I was sitting between Sally and Uncle Robert who I noticed could hardly take his eyes off the well-developed curves of Laura Macfarlane. I wondered why my uncle was so taken with the girl. When the ladies retired, I took the opportunity to ask him whether it was the sensual swell of her breasts that had intrigued him. 'It is an impertinent question but I could not help noticing that you appeared to be fascinated by her,' I said. Uncle Robert was not annoyed by my impudence and he smiled ruefully as he picked out a large cigar from the box being handed round the table by a footman.

Then, seeing that on my other side, Sally was engrossed in a conversation with Konrad Kochanski and that Penny, who was sitting on his right, was listening to Sir Ronald Dunn's anecdotes, Uncle Robert pulled his chair over to me and said: 'Henry, there is a German maxim that goes Wenn weiber aussernander geben, bleiben sie immer noch ein bisschen stehen. “When it's time to go, there's no need to rush if the women are still talking!” And let me inform you, my boy, that your Aunt Jennifer is no exception to the rule. 'About eighteen months ago your aunt and I had been invited to dine at some friends and, as usual, she was still getting herself ready whilst I sat downstairs in the drawing-room reading the evening newspaper. I was about to help myself to a whisky and soda when Bertha, her personal maid, knocked on the door and came in to inform me that Jennifer had changed her mind about which dress she was going to wear and so would not be downstairs for another twenty minutes. “Oh, very well, but please inform your mistress that we really should leave as soon as possible,” I said wearily and poured myself a stiff drink and settled back into my armchair. 'But, just a minute or two later, there was another knock on the door and Laura, the pretty new chambermaid, came in, She was a most attractive girl with black hair, big eyes and a saucy expression on her face. But her best features were her large breasts which pulsed against the thin, white cotton of her blouse… strongly that the outline of her nipples could be seen very clearly.

'“Good evening,” I said, finding it difficult to resist staring at these luscious, young bosoms. “Have you also a message for me?” 'She shook her head and provocatively stroked her hands over her breasts as she replied: “No, Sir, but I would like to ask you a favour. May I have next Tuesday afternoon off?” 'I wrinkled my brow in surprise and said: “What a strange question to ask me. Surely Mrs. Mutkin, our housekeeper, is the person you should speak to about such a matter.” '“Yes, sir, I know, but I don't think she would permit me to take a half-holiday unless either you or Lady Jennifer instructed her to do so,” she answered. Then she walked right up to me and went on: “I'd be ever so grateful, I really would.” 'I looked up at her and she passed her tongue slowly over her lips before she went on: “You like looking at my big titties, don't you, Sir Robert?

Well, how would you like to see them uncovered? I don't mind showing them to you.” 'The shameless, young hussy unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, leaving only the covering of a thin chemise over the rounded swell of her enchanting bubbles. 'With a saucy glint in her eye, she said: “Your artist friend Mr. Truart is paying me half a guinea an hour to pose for him, but of course I wouldn't charge you any fee.” She slid the straps of her chemise down her arms and lowered the garment and I thrilled to the sight of her bare breasts that now jutted out proudly in all their glory. 'Laura's eyes travelled to the swelling bulge in my lap as I sat transfixed in my armchair. Her hand followed her eyes and, before I could utter a word of protest, she was on her knees and unbuttoning my trousers. The little minx freed my pulsating prick and planted a slurping, wet kiss on my knob as her hands slid up and down my shaft. 'Then, she looked up at me and gave me a merry wink before she leant and began licking my cock, slithering her tongue round my helmet, and sending the most delicious waves of pleasure surging round my body. My tool bulged in her cheek as she devoured me, sucking my shaft with gusto while I ran my hands through her glossy, dark hair. '“M'mm, what a nice juicy prick,” she gurgled as she took a deep breath. Then God knows how, she crammed inch after inch of my tool down her throat until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. 'Her tongue moved inside her mouth, rubbing lure, massaging there, and generally exciting me to tremendous heights of pleasure. She sucked away so noisily that I feared we would be discovered but I would have defied any red-blooded man to tell the girl to cease her exquisite palating.

'So Laura continued to suck my cock until I felt myself nearing my spend. I lifted her head gently upwards and pushed her down on the carpet. Then I hastily straddled her and squeezed her breasts tightly together. I hardly had time to place my bursting member in the vale between those soft, rounded hillocks before my spunk coursed out in a tremendous gush. I moved my shaft from one side to another, drenching her titties whilst she purred and rubbed the sticky, warm cream over her pert, raspberry nipples. 'We dressed quickly and Laura was out of the room by the time your aunt came down the stairs. Of course I promised her that I would speak to Mrs. Mutkin. Evidently, Mr.

Truart had offered to take her to the spring meeting at Exeter Racecourse if she could get the time off.' Uncle Robert downed his glass of port and gave a heavy sigh. 'When I confronted my old friend about this the next day, he did not deny that he was infatuated with the girl who he said was the most voluptuous lover he had ever bedded, and you can believe me, my boy, that was quite a compliment because Lionel Truart has fucked more girls than you've had hot dinners.' 'Did you ever have the chance to fuck Laura yourself?'

I enquired. Uncle shook his head sadly as he answered: 'Alas, I was never given the opportunity, for at the races, Mr. Truart gave Laura five pounds to wager on whatever mounts took her fancy. She backed the favourite in the first race which came in at seven to two and then, against Lionel's advice, she staked her winnings on a rank outsider at fourteen to one which obliged her by winning the race by a short head. Then, damn me if she didn't win yet again. To cut a long story short, by tea-time she had amassed winnings of more than one hundred and seventy pounds, and to cap it all, Lionel introduced her to a friend of his from London with whom Laura became extremely friendly. Within a week, she had handed in her notice, saying she had secured a position with this gentleman and I have not seen her since.

Until this afternoon, that is. I would know those magnificent breasts anywhere. Before I could reply, the Prince of Wales roared with laughter and banged on the table with the palm of his hand as he called for silence. 'Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to any of you who have not yet had the pleasure of meeting her, Miss Laura Macfarlane. During dinner this charming girl informed me that she was recently invited to the headquarters of the Ladies Mutual Aid Society, which Countess Olga Pettroff founded last year in Bayswater. With your permission, gentlemen, I would like to invite Miss Macfarlane to relate to us in uninhibited detail exactly what occurred when she visited this den of vice.' Naturally, no-one would gainsay the Prince even if they so wished, and, in any case, we were all keen to hear what was bound to be a bawdy tale. Sir Ronald Dunn poured Laura a glass of cognac which she sipped as she told us the following story.

It began when she was in London, performing some errands. She was just walking out of Fortnum and Mason's in Piccadilly, having given in the corsage watch which had been given her as a Christmas gift, to be repaired, when a well-dressed lady thrust an advertising leaflet into her hand. Laura continued: 'The sheet of paper gave an address of a mews house off Kendal Street and stated that Countess Olga Petroff of St Petersburg and Paris was forming a select club for respectable young women of modest means who wished to meet and engage in social intercourse with others of similar social standing whilst in London.

Any girl interested in joining the club was welcome to visit the establishment between ten o'clock and six o'clock on any Tuesday, Thursday or Friday at 69 Garden Mews, off Kendal Street.' 'A propitiously numbered address,' interjected Konrad Kochanski.

Laura smiled and continued: 'This all sounded quite appealing and, as I had some time on my hands, I took an omnibus and twenty minutes later I was standing outside the proposed club's headquarters.

'I rang the bell and an attractive maid opened the door. When I informed her of the purpose of my visit she showed me into a sumptuously furnished drawing-room and asked me to wait for a few minutes until Countess Olga was ready to see me. 'Left alone for the moment, I cast my eye about and noticed many pieces of small statuary around the room, all depicting various unclad girls and women. Perhaps I should have guessed there and then exactly what was going on, especially when I noticed the titles of some of the books in the small library cabinet, The Prima Dona, School Life in Paris, Lascivious Scenes in a Convent and other such rude books.

'However, I stayed and leafed through the pages of a periodical until the maid came in and asked me to follow her to Countess Olga's rooms. The Countess was waiting to welcome me and, speaking in perfect English, she poured me a glass of sherry and asked me to tell her all about myself. She scribbled a few notes on a sheet of paper and, when I had finished, she exclaimed: “My dear Laura, you are just the kind of girl we would like to join the Ladies Mutual Aid Society. Let me tell you a little more about our facilities. We have a moderately-priced kitchen which prepares light luncheons, teas and dinners whilst every Wednesday night we have a guest speaker to give informal talks on matters of topical importance. On every day except Sunday, the club is open and you may use the library, enjoy a game of cards or just sit quietly or engage in conversation with your friends.

But our pride and joy is the swimming pool we have constructed which I shall now show you.” 'As she rose, I happened to notice for the first time, the large nude painting of the Countess which adorned one of the walls. She was posed stretched out on white, rumpled sheets and the artist had brought out every detail of her body, even to a patch of curly, black hairs between her thighs and her pink-lipped cunney.

'“Ah, I see you are looking at my portrait,” said the Countess as she walked round from her seat. “It was painted by Minnie Ashe and I do think she did wonderfully well even though she flattered her subject!” 'Whilst I stood admiring the picture she joined me and, in a friendly manner, she slipped her arm around my waist and guided me to the door. We went through to a large room where the floor had been scooped out and a swimming pool had been laid. Splashing about in the pool was a beautiful, naked girl of about my own age. '“As we don't allow any men inside the premises, we are able to dispense with costumes,” the Countess said lightly. She called out to the lovely girl in the pool. “It's far nicer swimming in the nude, isn't it, Kitty?” '“Oh yes, it's absolutely divine,” agreed the girl as she swam over to us and pulled herself half out of the water, her breasts resting on the tiled floor as she added: “Do introduce me to this pretty girl, Olga.” '“Certainly, my dear,” beamed the Countess as six-looked at her wrist watch. “Kitty, this is Miss Laura Macfarlane – Laura, I would like you to meet Miss Kitty Philbrook. Now, would you both excuse me for fifteen minutes as I have a meeting with our Secretary Miss Sykes, to discuss our accounts. Incidentally, Laura is an acquaintance of several of our friends, Including Lord Laversham. I believe you have met the noble Lord unless I am much mistaken.'”

Laura paused here and giggled as she looked at him His face had coloured a deep red and he spluttered: 'I don't think there is any need to continue recounting this anecdote, Laura, no need at all.'

Sir Ronald Dunn attempted to soothe our host's fear and said: “Oh, come now, old chap. We're all men of the world round this table.

No-one will blab a word if your name is connected with some saucy goings-on. 'Of course not,' said the Prince of Wales with a hearty guffaw. 'Anyhow, I am sure that nothing uncomplimentary about you will pass Laura's lips.' 'Lord Laversham has no need to be concerned,' agreed Laura as she put down her goblet and continued her tale, saying: 'So I asked Kitty where she had met Lord Laversham and she replied: “Oh, where I work, actually, at Madame Parfait's Herbal Baths in Great Portland Street. He's one of my regular clients.” '“Really?” I said with interest. “And what is your work?” She looked at me and grinned as she answered: “I'm a masseuse, Laura, I rub down my clients with oils and smooth away all their aches and pains. Lord Laversham has been a regular customer of mine for the last six months and, as you would expect, he always has the de luxe treatment which includes a good sucking-off and a soixante neuf if preferred.” '“A soixante neuf!” I repeated in astonishment. “What has that to do with being massaged with oils?” '“Not a great deal,” she said with a pert chuckle. “Though can you think of a nicer way to ease away the cares of the day? However, I only offer this special service to a handful of well-heeled clients who pay handsomely for the privilege.” 'As I digested this information, Kitty said to me: “Laura, why don't you join me for a swim in this gorgeous, heated pool? One of the maids has just placed a pile of fresh towels in the changing room.” 'Well, it had been a hot day and the idea appealed to me even though I was somewhat shy at first to splash around in the nude, especially if anyone else come in.

Nevertheless, I disrobed in the changing room and stepped gingerly into the pool. Kitty had been telling nothing but the truth as the water was indeed nicely warm and we frolicked around gaily. Then, as I rested for a moment at the side of the pool, Kitty swam up to me and began rubbing my pussey with the palm of her hand. '“Let me give you one of my special massages,” she cooed in my ear. “I'm sure you will like it and will also be nice for me to give pleasure to a pretty girl instead of some randy man.” 'It was the first time any feminine fingers had toyed with my pussey and the sensation was frankly delicious although I did make a nominal protest. “You shouldn't really be doing that,” I murmured when Kitty caress my breasts and tweaked my nipples with one hand whilst with the other she began to rub my pussey in earnest. 'I however, was soon so fired up that the last traced of resistance vanished. Kitty started to murmur softly about how she wanted to stick her tongue inside my cunney and suck my clitty. I kissed her cheek and said, “That's all very well, but you can't eat my pussey in the water.” 'For a few quiet moments we stood grinning at each other like a pair of Cheshire cats, and I found myself gazing into this pretty girl's face whilst she studied me with a look of pure lust in her eyes. Then we hauled ourselves out of the pool and, after drying ourselves with the big bath towels, Kitty led me into Countess Olga's private changing room which was just big enough to accommodate a single bed on which were luxurious linen sheets. 'Running her wet tongue over her lips in anticipation, Kitty gently laid me down upon the bed and said: “Just look at our two little pussies, Laura. You have a beautifully dainty crack, darling, and what a fine contrast we make with your thatch of dark, curly hair and my soft, silky bush.” 'Then, with a smile, she fell upon me and our mouths meshed together as we kissed deeply, rubbing our titties and cunnies together in complete uninhibited abandon. The sensation of her gleaming, naked body pressing against my own heightened my desire still further and, when our nipples touched, tingling spasms of sheer delight passed from my breasts to my wet, pulsing pussey. '“Oh my, that's heavenly,” I gasped when Kitty began to stroke the insides of my thighs and she moved her tousled head down between my thighs to lick and lap along my crack. I wrapped my thighs around her neck and she tenderly opened the yielding love lips and slid her finger into the juicy tunnel of my soaking quim.

'I squirmed and giggled with delight as she found my swollen clitty and playfully nibbled it until I thought I would explode. But, just as I was about to spend, Kitty lifted herself up and, with the swiftness and grace of a gazelle, she twisted herself round and lowered her own pussey on to my face. I thrust my tongue into her rosy chink and we licked each other out in perfect unison until we reached gigantic peaks of orgasmic lust and spent profusely in each other's mouths. 'We lay entwined together on the bed and I closed my eyes and fell into a light sleep. However, I purred like a kitten when I felt Kitty's tongue sliding for a third time into my cunt, lewdly lapping all around the edges before thrusting it all the way in. I closed my eyes and let myself dissolve into a glorious feeling of lubricity as her tongue teased my clitty with long, rasping licks.

'I relaxed and tightened my thighs around her head, but then my eyes fluttered open when I heard a familiar voice say: “Please move over, Kitty, and let me fuck this sweet girl with my new toy.” 'I gasped in astonishment as I saw none other than Countess Olga Petroff standing over us. She was stark naked and I could not but admire the superb jutting spheres of her breasts, which though smaller than mine, were tipped with large, dusky, coral nipples. Her pubic bush was of a thick, curly fleece but her pussey was partly hidden by a leather belt she was wearing around her waist. At the front it had attached to it a polished, black mahogany object, shaped exactly like a giant, erect cock. '“Laura, you will let me fuck you, my dear girl?” begged the Countess. 'I promise you that you'll enjoy it more than any rough male affair.” 'I had never heard of a strap-on member, although I have since read about such instruments in a book by Doctor Lewis, which I have discovered. I was curious to know if it could provide anything like the satisfaction afforded by a sturdy, stiff prick, yet at the same time, I was slightly hesitant about the idea of being poked by another woman in this fashion. 'Kitty sensed my apprehension and assured me that I had nothing to fear, saying: “This particular ladies' comforter was fashioned from a cast made from the cock of General Goldstone of the West Oxfordshire Regiment, one of the best endowed men in the entire British Army. I have heard it said that several rich ladies possess copies of this noted military prick, carved in ivory at a famous manufactory in Paris.” 'Very well then, I'll give it a try,' I said as the Countess climbed on top of me and I spread my legs to enable her to insert her the tip of the penis between my pussey lips. She parted the lips of my pussey with her fingers and slid an inch or so of the wooden cock which was certainly far from unpleasant! I wrapped my legs around her waist and locked my ankles together as she leaned backwards and forwards, making the imitation prick slide in and out of my juicy love channel. I gurgled with pleasure and urged the Countess on. It took her only a little while to get the right rhythm and, once she did, the dildo gave me great sensations. Every time she pistoned it inside me, it rubbed against my clitty and, at the end of each thrust, I could feel sparks throughout my body. My cunny was soon disgorging a flood of love juices as I spent over and over again. Then the Countess asked me if I would like to strap on the dildo and fuck Kitty with it. At first I demurred but then Kitty said eagerly: 'Oh yes, please-do, Laura. Come to think of it, I've been fucked three times by General Goldstone in the flesh at Madame Parfait's, and it will be interesting to see what differences I can feel between his actual prick and this imitation.'

Lord Laversham stroked his moustache and enquired whether she obliged Kitty as requested. Laura smiled as she replied: 'Oh yes, and I must admit I rather enjoyed fucking the lovely girl. It gave me a sense of power having a cock mounted between my legs. However, whilst playing around with the Countess and Kitty made me feel randy, I still maintain that nothing beats sucking a sinewy stiff cock and then being lucked by it!' 'So you decided not to join the ladies Mutual Aid Society,' observed Uncle Robert. Laura shook her head and said: 'Oh but I did and I have visited the club several times since that initial visit. I still prefer being fucked by a man but the sensation of being frigged by a female makes a change when I'm in the mood.' She looked around the table and went on: 'I'm sure other girls here will agree with my.” 'Well let us find out,' said the Prince of Wales, rising from his chair, and we followed His Royal Highness into the drawing-room where the other girls awaited us. There, Laura repeated her story and asked the other female guests whether they would be interested in sampling the delights afforded by the Ladies Mutual Aid Society. Sally put down her cup of coffee on the table and said thoughtfully: 'The idea has some appeal and I for one would keep an open mind on the subject, although I cannot believe that tribadism could rival the benefits of a hot, throbbing tool in my cunt, for that's a joy I doubt can be bettered. Still, I would like to find this out for myself so please do give me the address of this fascinating establishment.' 'I do so agree with you, darling,' said Marcia as she motioned with her hand for me to sit in between herself and Sally on the sofa. 'Between consenting adults I do not see why anything that is physically possible should be regarded as unnatural. I have little experience in intra-feminine amours. Since this evening, the last time was at least six months ago when I was taking part in a tableau vivant at Lady Marguerite Palatine's town house in Chelsea.' Konrad Kochanski pricked up his ears at the name of this famed Society beauty. Lady Marguerite Palatine? I simply cannot believe there can be a hidden tribadic side to her nature,' he exclaimed. Sir Ronald Dunn concurred with this view. 'Nor can I, Konrad, nor can I. I would not want to spread gossip about a lady, but it is hardly a secret that since Sir Thomas left his wife to tour his Canadian estates, Marguerite has entertained several gentlemen at the Palantine town house in Redclilfe Gardens.' 'Well, you can hardly blame her,' Uncle Robert grunted as he sat down next to Penny on a chaise longue. 'As I understand it, since their marriage Sir Thomas has had great difficulty in getting a stand and Marguerite was lucky if she was fucked more than once a month by her husband. It was with his blessing that she began to look elsewhere for intimate comforts.

'I don't blame her, old chap,' said Sir Ronald with a hoarse laugh. 'After all, a fellow at my club informed me that why Tommy Palatine encouraged young chappies to fuck his wife was because he actually enjoyed seeing her poked by other men. Yes it takes all sorts, you know.' He swung round to Marcia and said: 'So you are saying that the lovely Marguerite also consoles herself with female lovers?' Marcia shrugged her shoulders and answered: 'I can't speak in general terms about this lady's sexual preferences, but after what happened between us, I am quite certain that she would be interested in visiting the Ladies Mutual Aid Society. 'Sally, Penny and myself had arrived at Radcliffe Gardens in the afternoon to rehearse our scenes. Everything went well until Sally and Penny went off to take tea and I was left alone naked on the stage, trying out some new dance steps. But, as I crossed the stage to get my robe, I slipped and banged my knee on a bedpost. I cried out and Lady Marguerite, who had just entered the room, came running towards me.

'Oh you poor girl, are you all right?' she asked, as she helped me to my feet and, throwing my arm around her neck, she helped me hobble over to the bed. 'Yes I'll be fine,' I said but Lady Marguerite insisted I lie down on the bed whilst she gave me a massage. Before I had time to reply, she was on her knees in front of me, massaging my legs and I could feel her hands sliding higher and higher until her fingertips were rubbing against the insides of my thighs. To be candid, I found this most pleasant and I made no objection when her fingers lightly grazed the pouting lips of my pussey. 'Then Marguerite suddenly switched her attention to my breasts. She slid her hands around my creamy, soft globes and said 'My dear girl, what truly delicious titties you have, such a strong, raspberry colour and they're so nice and firm to the touch.' 'I smiled my appreciation at this compliment as her busy hands continued to squeeze my bosoms and then her fingers trailed down over my tummy and into my silky, auburn bush as she whispered: 'Spread your legs a little wider, my darling, and I'll give you an extra-special treat.' 'This combination of flattery and the intense tingling sensation which was spreading all over my body made it impossible for me to do nothing more than purr quietly as I obeyed her command. 'I closed my eyes and shuddered with pleasure as I felt lady Marguerite's wicked fingers pirouetting around the folds of my pussey, but I was now already so heated that, as her forefinger slid into my moistening love channel and began tickling my clitty, I achieved a little spend almost at once and I could hear her breathing heavily with excitement. 'Now we lost all pretence of restraint and she kissed me with a fiery passion as she swiftly undressed and climbed over me so that our breasts rubbed together and I could feel her fleecy, black curls brush against my own glossy thatch as she cleverly positioned herself so that our clitties touched every time she pushed her hips forward.' At this point Marcia paused and giggled as she slipped her hand down on to the bulge in my lap and said: 'Oooh, what a big boner, Master Henry! And I would wager that all the other gentlemen are sporting similar hard-ons. What is there about a tribadic tale that so excites you boys?' I was saved from answering this question when Sally picked up one of the new Kodak Brownie cameras from the floor and rising from her seat she said: 'Marcia, I would think that they are in just the right state for us to take some photographs for our collection.'

'Quite so,' agreed Marcia and with a sparkle in her eyes she went on: 'Come now, gentleman. Drop your trousers and prepare to be snapped by Sally's Brownie.' Alas, I need more ink and the nib of my pen is running dry. Sadly, it is now one o'clock in the morning and I have to see Dr Muttley tomorrow. Tomorrow, I shall also have my next lesson with Lizzie Dickerson. What more is there to learn I wonder? It occurred to me on the drive back to school that I can't very well let Sir Robert see this diary without giving Lizzie away so I fear I must forfeit my camera.