Anonymous

Rosie: Her Intimate Diaries

Foreword

Why should I not publish my diaries? In its pages there dwell far more interesting anecdotes about noted personages from across the entire social spectrum than appear in the censored, restrained recollections and apologies of our best-known and respected men of letters-though when I informed my greatest friend, Sir David Nash, the infamous Mayfair rake, of my intention 'to publish and be damned', his cheeky comment was that most of the letters in my manuscript would be French!

But I firmly believe that the truth should be told and I have not succumbed to the mealy-mouthed hypocrisy of the age by bowdlerising events. If I may be allowed to quote from a critique by Captain Philip Pelham, who has kindly reviewed this volume for that jolly little magazine, The Oyster. 'Rosie D'Argosse has charted her erotic career for the delectation of all lovers of gallant literature. Her lusty narrative, as liberal as her sensual appetite, is as joyous and unfettered as the forbidden fruits she so lovingly nurtures. As she eloquently recalls her graphic, undraped stories of licking and lapping, fucking and sucking, she takes the reader on a delicious and voluptuous voyage of endless arousal, a journey enhanced by the sweet, stirring sensations of Rosie's pulsating prose.'

One final word-some may be surprised that I have not hesitated to name those ladies and gentlemen with whom I have enjoyed the noble art of l'arte de faire l'amour during the last four years. Let me assure any concerned reader that all who have been named have given me their express permission to mention their roles in my intimate experiences. Perhaps surprisingly, none have flinched from what some may feel is scandalous exposure and, indeed, even my dear old uncle Lord Gordon MacChesney has been eager to refresh my memory about certain rather recherche events that took place down at Argosse Towers down in the heart of the Sussex countryside.

Rosie D'Argosse

1. Early Days

I had the greatest of good fortune in growing up in our family seat in the heart of the South Down country of West Sussex. Argosse Towers is an imposing mansion that stands in delightful surrounds some three miles from the sleepy little market town of Midhurst.

The characteristic Downland landscape is a perfect panorama of moulded promontories and ample spaces. Gracefully rounded hills run into each other in gently curving lines, and in the distance the far horizon is shut out by vague blue hills, and across to the east lies the Wealden plain, divided by dark hedges and brightened by the red and grey roofs of the villages, the greenery of wide woods and fields, the purple of plough-lands and the yellow acres of corn.

There is little I need to say of my life up to the day of my sixteenth birthday, which took place on the twenty-second of June, in the year nineteen hundred and five. I was happy enough, to be sure, for my Papa and Mama were the kindest parents one could wish for, but I did not see them as frequently as I really wanted. You see, dear reader, Papa enjoyed a most successful career as Permanent Second Secretary in the Foreign Office. This meant that he had to spend weekdays in London and frequently Mama would journey up to our London house in Belgrave Square and, accompany him to important Government receptions for visiting dignitaries and the like.

Mama also traveled with Papa when he felt it necessary to go abroad to spend time on delicate diplomatic business. During these more prolonged parental leaves of absence, my younger brother Jonathan and myself were left in the charge of my Mama's bachelor brother, Lord Gordon MacChesney, who supervised the running of our house-a task he relished for (though it was not until shortly after my sixteenth birthday that I knew it) my nice Uncle Gordon loved to fuck Sarah and Alice, the prettiest of our maidservants and to have his cock sucked by young Polly, the daughter of the local blacksmith.

More of Uncle Gordon shortly; for the moment let me state that my education was first at the famous Trippett College For Young Ladies in Chichester, but my final schooldays, before I left Sussex for finishing-school in Switzerland (and I write of these uninhibited days later), were spent at St Hilda's Academy for Young Ladies in Devon. My brother Jonathan, I should add, had followed my father's footsteps and had gone to Eton after attending a private preparatory school near our home.

And indeed Jonathan figures in the first incident of intimacy that I ever witnessed at first hand which took place on a glorious afternoon just a few days after this all-important sixteenth birthday.

I had decided to take myself off for a walk to Letchmore Woods. The weather was perfect for such an activity. Although it was one of the hottest days so far of a glorious summer, the air of the Downs is always fresh and pure. It has a quality which elevates the spirits and even on the warmest day you will almost always find a soft, sighing zephyr to cool the mopping brow.

So I ambled across the springy turf, idly considering what games we might play at my birthday tea, which was being postponed to the following weekend in order to allow Papa and Mama to attend for they had been in London since Tuesday. I had invited five of my best friends, Sheena, Katie, Gillian, Mary and Susie to the feast and I was looking forward eagerly to the party.

All was peaceful and serene as I made my way to the top of a knoll and I had decided to lie down on the dry grass and study a chapter of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, for Miss Caughey, my English teacher, had set this book for us to peruse during the summer holidays and we would be tested on our knowledge of it when we returned to St Hilda's in the autumn. It should have been a perfect place to read Mr. Dickens for no noise comes from the plain but the occasional lowing of cattle from Farmer Massey's fields or the musical tinkle of a sheep-bell as the flock moves along a slope.

But this afternoon this rural tranquillity was broken by what appeared to be sounds of some kind of human activity from behind a large bush that grew half way down the small hill on the opposite side to that which I had just climbed. From my position I imagined that I could hear three young, boyish voices and, as I was curious to discover what they were doing behind the bush, I scrambled up and walked quietly down the hillock to find out exactly what was going on.

The voices were now becoming clearer and the first voice I recognised belonged to Alfred, our page-boy, who was six months younger than me. Then I made out the dulcet tones of my brother Jonathan who himself would soon be fifteen. But as I drew nearer I realised that the third voice was in fact that of a girl-and unless I was gravely mistaken it was young Sarah, the prettiest of our maidservants, who was at least a year, if not more, older than me, who was larking about with the boys behind the bush.

Now I could clearly make out the words which were interspersed with a great deal of excited giggling. 'Look at my willie, Sarah, it's swelled up so big,' I heard my brother say excitedly. 'Won't you play with it like you did with Alfred's?'

'Why, Master Jonathan, you naughty boy, how rude you are,' scolded Sarah in a tone of mock severity, 'though I must admit you've got a very thick prick for so young a lad.'

'It's not so big as mine though, is it?' claimed Alfred. 'And I bet he can't spurt out as much spunk as I can.'

'No, probably not, but let's have a little contest to make sure. Come over here, Alfred, and stand next to Jonathan and I'll see what I can do,' said the lewd girl.

I was shocked by this bawdy talk for though I had secretly read copies of The Oyster which Papa kept locked in his private cabinet, I had never actually heard, let alone seen, anything like this! So you may well imagine that I was fairly trembling with excitement as I dropped to my knees behind the trio and peered round to see what Sarah had in mind.

Well now, I had surmised that I might see something I had never seen before, but I was shocked by the lewd scene which began to unfold before my very eyes.

Alfred and Jonathan had taken off their shirts and trousers and were standing naked as Sarah pulled off her clothes and (to her credit) busied herself folding them into a neat little pile, though naturally my gaze was turned immediately towards the two boys whose tools had grown into enormous flesh poles, hard and stiff and topped off at the end by uncapped ruby-coloured helmets. You must remember, of course, that this was the first time I had seen an erect prick in all its manly glory. I noted that neither Alfred nor Jonathan had more than a light covering of hair around the root of their cocks, but when I turned my head round to look at Sarah, a sharp intake of breath escaped my lips. For her love mound was covered by a veritable thatch of curly black hair, far thicker than the silky covering of down which lay between my own legs. I looked on in breathless excitement as the lusty girl stepped forward towards the boys and grasped their rampant shafts in her hands.

She proceeded to rub their staffs up until they stood like two bursting truncheons high against their bellies. 'Dear me,' she laughed, 'it's very hard to judge these fine specimens. Your prick is longer all right, Alfred, but I do think Master Jonathan's is just a little bit thicker. Now let's see how much cream I can coax out of you two beauties.'

I watched entranced as Sarah grasped the two red-helmeted cocks and continued to frig them vigorously as the boys yelped like two puppies with the sheer pleasure of being tossed off by this uninhibited girl, who appeared to be equally aroused from the gleam I saw shining in her eyes. Within a very short time the young scamps began to spend and the first spurtings of white juice shot out of their pricks like miniature fountains. Both boys produced substantial streams of sperm but I was proud to see that my young brother's emission was just as copious as that of his older companion.

'Oh, that was really super,' sighed Alfred, as he looked down to see his staff slowly subsiding into limpness, 'but I would so love to experience the real thing which I bet is even nicer.'

'So would I,' chipped in Jonathan eagerly. 'Please let me fuck you, Sarah. You can see that I'm quite capable of it.'

Sarah burst out laughing. 'I've seen that you both are, Master Jonathan, and I'm equally sure that I'd enjoy it too. But I haven't got time today and anyhow you've both just spent by yourselves.

'Well, with just a little help from me,' she added modestly. 'Don't be greedy, boys. After all, you've both been tossed off and you've had a good look at my titties and my bum. That will have to suffice you for the present. Come on now, we'd better get dressed because if we don't get back soon, Alfred and I will be missed at the house.'

The boys looked very disappointed but obeyed her and slowly began to pull on their clothes. 'It's a jolly shame for you that girls can't toss themselves off like boys,' remarked Alfred.

Sarah looked at him with a grin. 'What do you mean? Why, don't you know that we can enjoy ourselves without anyone else just like you?'

'Gosh, can girls spend by themselves too? I didn't know that,' confessed Jonathan shyly.

'Of course we can, you silly boy. Shall I tell you how I like to play with myself?'

'Yes, please,' they chorused, and I could feel my face turn scarlet as I felt embarrassed that anyone, let alone my young brother, should know of my secret pleasure. However, eavesdroppers seldom hear any good of themselves, as the old saying has it, and besides, this would constitute a sufficient punishment for my admittedly inadvertent spying upon this randy scene.

'Well now,' Sarah said, with a wicked smile playing around her lips. 'My favourite is at night just after I've had a nice warm bath. I then stand in front of the bathroom mirror and slowly dry myself with a towel. I close my eyes and imagine that in fact there's a handsome young man running the towel over my breasts and between my legs, making my body shine with a silken glow.

'Then I open my eyes and I look at my dark, thick cunney hair which curls round my crack. I let my hand slide down and let my fingers move lovingly around there and play around my moist pussey. When I'm ready I part my pale pink cunney lips with the tip of one finger and begin to rub myself off which makes me feel good all over.

'When I find my clitty stiffening up I scuttle into my bedroom and lie on my bed with my hand mirror and ladies' comforter which cost me four shillings at Dr Bucknall's Surgical Stores in Chichester last year. By setting up the mirror between my legs I can see myself playing with my pussey. Then I separate my cunney lips and can see right inside my juicy damp cunt. I'm getting really excited now and all my juices are flowing as I push two and then three fingers in and wiggle them about to get myself really wet. It's time now for Dr Bucknall's imitation cock which I pick up and rub up and down my slit which tingles now with anticipation of a good fucking.

'After a few moments I push the dildo inside my cunt and then gently take almost all of it out. Oooh, just thinking about how lovely it feels is making my knickers wet!'

Truth to tell, this racy narrative was also making my pussey damp and I just couldn't stop my hand from diving down to start stroking myself as Sarah continued: 'I play like this for a while and gradually pick up speed, twiddling my titties with one hand as I push my dildo in and out faster and faster, deeper and deeper until wooosh! A lovely feeling explodes in my pussey and sends lovely waves all over me as my love juice now flows out of my sopping crack. I used to do this quite a lot but since Lord Gordon's been here I don't need a dildo because I've got his big thick tool ready and waiting whenever we feel like a little fuck. He's already told me to come to his bedroom this evening so I know that I won't be getting much sleep tonight.'

'Isn't Lord Gordon too old to have hard-ons?' asked Alfred, to which Sarah gave an immediate answer. 'Not at all, young Alfred, that's something else you and Jonathan should know. People aren't past it by the time they've reached forty. Why, Lord Gordon's sixty-five and he can still fuck like a rattlesnake.'

By now they had all finished dressing, but I could see that Sarah's story had excited Alfred and Jonathan so much that their cocks were fairly bursting out of their trousers. Sarah giggled as she too saw the huge bulges in front of the lads' trousers and she reached across to pat them. 'I can see that you were certainly hanging on to every word,' she chuckled, 'and that you can't wait to have me finish you off. Well, let's get back to the house and I'll see what I can do after tea. Be in your room at five o'clock, Master Jonathan, and I'll come to you just as soon as I can.'

'That's not fair, I won't be able to join in,' protested Alfred, heatedly.

'Don't worry, I'll see to you after supper,' Sarah promised, as they walked down the hill towards our house, leaving me feeling extraordinarily frustrated as I scrambled up to my feet, flushed with all the exciting images which were spinning through my brain.

When I followed them back a half hour later, I could hardly contain the strong feeling of pleasurable anticipation which seeped throughout my entire body. What was so especially exciting was the fact that Uncle Gordon's bedroom was next door to my own, and, unknown to him, when I was younger, Papa had a hidden peephole fashioned into the adjoining wall between the two rooms. This work was carried out so that the nurse who slept next door could keep an eye on her charge without disturbing me, for as a child I was a very light sleeper. Tonight though, this secret peephole would afford me my first view-and a grandstand one at that – of sexual copulation and I could hardly wait until ten o'clock which was the earliest time I could go to bed without arousing any suspicion of feeling unwell or getting into mischief of some sort or another.

At dinner I could hardly take my eyes off Jonathan, who looked terribly pleased with himself and I wondered enviously whether Sarah had helped him to make his first journey across the Rubicon just a couple of hours before. You lucky boy, I thought, there is no man I really want at Argosse Towers to rid me of my tiresome virginity. If only Jimmy lived with us instead of in London. I should explain here that Jimmy was the Honourable James Harold Fortescue Horobin, second son of Viscount and Viscountess Sevenoaks, who were amongst my parents' oldest friends. Jimmy was eighteen and had just gained a place at Cambridge University to read English although his father had hoped that Jimmy would follow his footsteps and take up a commission in the Grenadier Guards. More of Jimmy shortly, dear reader, for very soon he enters this story.

To return to my tale, Jonathan had gone to bed at half past nine and at the stroke of ten, I put down the book I was reading and walked across to my uncle who was engrossed in his copy of the Sporting Life.

'Good night, Uncle, I am feeling a little tired so I shall go to bed now.'

'Are you m'dear? Well, have an early night and you'll feel fully refreshed tomorrow,' he replied, and he gave me a chaste goodnight peck on my cheek as I moved away from his chair.

Now, Uncle Gordon rarely retired before midnight. But as I fully expected, on this occasion I heard him climb the stairs and enter his bedroom not more than a quarter of an hour later! Five minutes after I heard the door close, I glued my eye to the peephole and was very soon rewarded. Uncle Gordon had taken off all his clothes except his vest and undershorts and he was sitting on the bed looking impatiently at his door.

Neither of us had long to wait for very soon I heard a knocking on his door and Uncle Gordon sprang up and rushed across the room to open the door. In popped Sarah, clad in a dressing-gown and slippers and as soon as Uncle had whisked her in he bolted the door behind her. 'No one saw you, did they?' he asked, anxiously. 'No, of course not,' she said. 'And even if they did, it's none of their business 'cos it's more than their job's worth to peach on us. After all, who would Lady D'Argosse believe if such a story were told to her? The tittle-tattle of servants of Lord MacChesney, her own blood brother?'

'Don't bank on it,' said Uncle Gordon, gloomily, 'because whatever else she maybe, my sister Cynthia is nobody's fool and she would probably believe a servant's tale rather than any explanation from me in such circumstances. Mind, it would be me who would get into hot water rather than you if we were found out as she would insist that I seduced you.'

Sarah giggled and replied: 'And so you did, Lord Gordon. I was a good little girl till I met you.'

'Go on with you, m'dear, you have had more pricks in your pussey than I've backed winners at Sandown Park races,' said Uncle, joining in her laughter.

'I must almost be a virgin then because your bookmaker sends you a box of cigars every month and he wouldn't do that if you were a lucky punter!'

'Ha, ha, ha! No, I don't suppose he would, just like I wouldn't give you a five pound note every week if your clever little cunney didn't tease my old cockie so deliciously, you naughty miss.'

This teasing badinage continued as Sarah and Uncle began to kiss and fondle each other on the bed. Sarah slipped off her dressing-gown to reveal that she wore only a thin nightdress underneath it. She rolled up Uncle Gordon's vest and pulled it over his head whilst he repaid the compliment by doing the same to her nightdress. The happy couple then dissolved into a loving embrace and my uncle's hand cupped one of her firm, full bosoms as they freely exchanged a most passionate kiss. My little titties began to tingle as I saw him squeeze Sarah's white globes, first one and then the other, and I rubbed my own nipples up to little red stalks as Uncle Gordon's lips broke away from Sarah's to move downwards to suck on the rosy red stalks that topped her sinuously ripe breasts.

Sarah's right hand now strayed to Uncle Gordon's lap and her fingers dived into the slit in his drawers to release his naked prick from its uncomfortable prison. Beforehand I could see the outline of a great bulge straining against the material of his pants, but I must confess that I was absolutely staggered by the tremendous size of my uncle's todger.

Though till this afternoon the only male organs I had seen had been limp and soft; compared even to the stiffstanders of Jonathan and Alfred I had viewed only hours before, the upstanding length and girth of Uncle Gordon's erect penis astonished and frankly frightened me. I judged its veiny thickness to be five inches in circumference whilst I estimated the veiny staff which Sarah was stroking with such eager relish to be at least nine inches long. There was no way that such a monster could be accommodated in my tiny crack and surely Sarah would be unable to take in this huge staff in her cunney even if she had already stretched her slit from previous fuckings?

I watched with fascination as Sarah leaned backwards and my uncle clambered over her. But he did not lay upon her but knelt down with his knees pressing the sides of her beautiful body. He then moved himself forward so that his prick, which still stood up as high as a flagpole, was positioned just an inch away from Sarah's mouth. This puzzled me until Sarah grasped hold of the veiny shaft with one hand and cupped his hairy pink ballsack with the other and I wondered as to what on earth was she planning to do with his throbbing prick.

In just a few seconds my question was answered for Sarah licked her lips and encircled the purple helmet of Uncle Gordon's cock with her tongue, jamming down his foreskin before taking the smooth knob between her lips. She sucked hard, taking at least a third of his rigid rod into her mouth while her hands played with his dangling balls. I could hear the sound of her tongue slurping round his pulsating pole before letting it out of her mouth. She then began to lick the swollen staff, drawing her tongue from the base right up to the gleaming knob. He clutched at her hair and shuddered violently as the lewd minx circled her tongue all round the fleshy red dome, washing his knob so sensuously that a hoarse groan of sheer delight escaped from my uncle's throat.

'Suck me off, Sarah! My balls are bursting with spunk!' he grunted, a request which she seemed happy with which to comply, for she took hold of his thick prick and with a sharp intake of breath somehow managed to cram all but the last inch or two of his enormous shaft into her mouth. She held his huge cock, lightly in her hands as he moved his hips backwards and forwards, releasing much of his rigid rod from her mouth before pushing it back in again. Sarah sucked away vigorously, keeping her lips taut on his length, kissing, suckling, licking and lapping as she took him into her mouth in long rolling sucks.

She continued to suck until with a cry of 'Here it comes!' he sent a stream of jism down Sarah's throat and she gulped down as much as she could of his copious emission. Despite all her efforts, however, Uncle Gordon pumped so much love juice into her mouth that some of his jism spilled out from between her lips and onto her chin. Sarah obviously enjoyed the taste of his libation for she rubbed his twitching shaft furiously to coax out every last drain of love juice from it.

'Oh my word, Sarah,' panted my uncle, as he removed her hand from his now deflated tool: 'I do believe that you are truly the finest fellatrix outside London.'

Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression. 'Fellatrix? What's that when it's at home? There's no need to go calling me names just because I'm a simple country girl and not one of your high and mighty ladies in society.'

'No, no, m'dear, you misunderstand me,' said my uncle, hastily. 'I assure you that I paid you a compliment. Fellatio is the posh name for oral sexual intercourse and a fellatrix is a girl who performs the noble art.'

'Fellatio, you say? Well, that may be how you say it in London but down here people simply call it good old-fashioned cocksucking.'

'Good enough, my girl, why don't you show me again just how well you do it?'

'All right then,' she agreed and kissed the tip of his tool and drawing back the foreskin to uncover his smooth round knob. But despite taking it into her mouth and licking it all over, my uncle's prick obstinately refused to swell up even when Sarah took the limp shaft between her lips and nibbled away with her white little teeth.

She took the soft tube of flesh out of her mouth and said: 'Oh dear, oh dear, Lord Gordon, I really thought you wanted to fuck me.'

'I do, my dear, of course I do. I just can't raise a cockstand just now,' he replied, gloomily.

Her face brightened. 'Don't worry, darling, I'll stick some hot mustard up your arse. That's the cure for a drooping prick we use round these parts.' Not surprisingly, my uncle blanched at even the mention of this famous old Sussex remedy. 'That's very kind of you, Sarah,' said my uncle, faintly, 'but I think I know an easier way for you to make my poor old prick rise up again.'

'What do I have to do?' she asked.

'Smack my arse with your slipper,' he instructed. 'A good whacking rarely fails to give me a hard-on.'

Sarah shrugged and picked up her slipper as my uncle turned over onto his tummy and stuck out his dimpled bum cheeks, opening his legs slightly so that both Sarah and I had a god view of his hanging ballsack. Sarah passed her hand lightly along his bare bottom and then lifted her arm. Thwack, thwack, thwack! She laid into him with a will and I could see his posterior change its hue to a warm, pinky tint. Watching her chastise his wriggling backside made me tingle with arousal. An awakening interest crept into my loins and I closed my eyes for a moment to allow a blissful familiar feeling radiate out from my dampening pussey to my titties and then all over my entire body.

At this point Sarah dropped the slipper and began slapping Uncle Gordon's arse with the palm of her hand. This obviously excited him for he gasped: 'Yes, yes, crack away, Sarah! A-h-r-e! How invigorating! Cut away, my girl!' Obediently she struck a few more blows with quite a considerable force. Then she passed her arm around his waist to see whether her hard work had achieved the desired result. He moved across the bed and lo and behold, what a difference Sarah's spanking had made to his previously flaccid penis! It was now standing up stiffly to attention in a rampant state of erection. He drew back his foreskin himself making its purple helmet swell and bound in his hand.

Sarah looked lasciviously at his gigantic stiffstander and murmured, 'Go on, Gordon, stuff that big donger in my juicy cunney.' He needed no second bidding as she lay on her back, her legs slightly apart-in a trice he was on top of her, his hands roving over those lovely alabaster-white breasts, moving his hands over the large pink aureoles and raised red nipples. He gently squeezed these succulent little cherries up to perfection as Sarah's body arched like a sleek cat as my uncle kissed her knees, her calves and her inner thighs, his hands all the while massaging those divinely full breasts.

She now parted her legs further, exposing her luxuriant-crisp bush and for a moment I could see her protruding cunney lips before his head buried itself between her legs and I could hear (though not actually see) him licking and lapping around her open crack.

My own cunt cried out with unfulfilled desire as Uncle Gordon continued to suck and play with Sarah's slit and my mound was on fire as he now lifted himself over the trembling girl and mounted her, guiding his enormous ramrod inside her squelchy cunt. Directing every last inch of his shaft snugly inside her cunney, Sarah now closed her thighs so that his cock was well and truly trapped in her nookie. Uncle Gordon could hardly pump in and out because Sarah's strong cunney muscles were gripping him so tightly, but he had no complaint as she started to grind her hips round, which massaged his prick quite exquisitely. I could imagine his hard pulsating penis throbbing powerfully inside her love channel and when he clutched Sarah's plump bum cheeks and smack his lips over one of her engorged stalky nipples, my pussey became wetter and wetter as I wriggled my hand between my legs and rubbed my pussey as hard as possible.

Now Sarah shifted her thighs and as the pressure around his pole eased, he began to drive wildly in and out of her delicious slit, fucking at such speed that I marvelled at his athleticism. 'Oooh, Gordon, you fat-cocked fucker, you've made me spend already-Oooh! I'm going off again!-Oooh! Oooh! Oooh! AAAH! What a glorious spend! Come on, darling, fill my cunney with spunk!' she panted as she writhed in ecstasies of delight-for the lucky Sarah was being brought off time and again and she worked herself off to a huge orgasm as the fierce momentum of my uncle's fucking sent her cunt into new paroxysms of pleasure.

For the grand finale, she brought her legs up against the small of his back, humping the lower half of her body upwards to meet the violent strokes of his raging member which shafted in and out, in rhythm with the ever-quickening jerks of her hips. The contraction of her sopping pussey now sent Uncle Gordon to the brink and with one final thrust he melted into her as he reached his climax, spilling spasm after spasm of love juice into her vitals as she herself shuddered into an explosive spend and even my own now saturated pussey sent out delicious waves of pleasure crackling throughout my entire body.

Sarah and Uncle Gordon were equally happy with the result of their exertions. 'What a splendid old cock you have there, my lord,' said Sarah, her bosoms rising and falling as she lay gasping for breath. 'My God, you filled me up completely which is more than most young chaps can do, that's for sure, with that big old cock. It's as they say, the old fiddles play the best tunes.'

'Thank you very much, m'dear, but I always say that it's not the age of the ship that counts, it's the way the captain steers his ship,' he replied modestly, 'and let me add that you have an absolutely divine love channel, Sarah. It must be the prettiest little cunt I have ever fucked. I just love the way my cock slides against its wet, velvety walls. Truly it must have been a cunt such as yours that the Scots poet David Taylor had in mind when he wrote:

How oft I've sworn to my true love

The world no sight can show,

To match her locks, her lips divine,

Her bosoms hills of snow.

But yet I find myself forsworn,

Two lips I have beheld;

Still lovelier on this happy morn,

A mount that hose excelled!

Her bosom boasts no swell so fair

No tints that these eclipse;

Her head had no such jet black hair,

Nor such enchanting lips!

'Thank you, Gordon, that's really lovely. Would you write that down for me please?' said Sarah, snuggling up beside him. 'Now, I suppose that another little fuck is out of the question?'

''Fraid so, my love, my old soldier won't stand up again for another couple of hours at least, not even if you tried out your peculiar idea about shoving mustard up my arse, which in any case sounds jolly uncomfortable, if you don't mind my saying so. Look, you can stay here all night, can't you?'

'Yes, of course I can, only we won't be able to have a lie-in. I must be up early to begin my work. If I'm not downstairs by half past six, Mrs. Callaghan the housekeeper will come into my room and see that I've spent the night elsewhere,' she warned.

'Gad, that would never do. But don't worry, I'll set the alarm on my bedside clock for six a.m. I don't mind waking up so early, especially because my prick will be standing up nice and stiff again by the morning.'

'Then you had better set the alarm for half past five,' said Sarah, with an infectious giggle which set Uncle Gordon laughing and at this juncture I leaned back from the peephole. This erotic encounter had been most pleasurable to watch but I positively ached for a stiff prick of mine to slide into my cunney. Then suddenly I had a brainwave- whilst it would take too long for a letter to reach my boyfriend Jimmy Horobin in London, and in any case I would be terrified of my billet-doux being seen by someone else, I could always contact him first thing in the morning, for last year Papa had a telephone installed. Hurrah for Mr. Alexander Graham Bell! I rejoiced as I settled down in my bed to dream of what sensual joys Jimmy Horobin could offer me.

2. My First Fuck

I was too excited to sleep well and I was only in a doze when I was fully woken by the shrill sound of Uncle Gordon's alarm clock. I heaved myself up to look at my watch-for dawn had already broken-and saw that it was only just after half past five, far too early of course to telephone Jimmy! But were my uncle and Sarah already engaged in a further bout of copulation? I went over to the peephole and fastened my eyes upon the couple who were entwined together in what was to me a new fashion.

Sarah was standing naked on the floor but leaning over the bed with her elbows on the mattress. The rounded contours of her backside jutted out and waggled invitingly as Uncle Gordon, who was also quite nude, suavely smoothed his hands over the quivering springy globes of her lovely derriere. He then took hold of these delicious rondeurs and parted them as he carefully positioned the stiff shaft of his penis between her two lovely bottom cheeks until the tip of his knob was touching the crinkled little entrance of her bum-hole.

'H-a-r!' grunted Sarah. 'I think your pego is a bit too big for bottom-fucking, darling, unless you can grease it well with some pomade.' {This was a perfume oil used to make the hair smooth and shiny-Editor).

'No problem, my dear, I have a bottle to hand. You must forgive me, for I should not have to be reminded to oil my tool before buggering you,' he cried, as he rushed over to the dressing-table and proceeded to lubricate his shaft until it fairly glistened in the sunlight that now poured into the room.

He repositioned himself behind her and sure enough this time his cock slid freely inside her, quickly enveloping itself between the in-rolling cheeks of Sarah's mouth-watering arse. I noticed that Uncle Gordon pushed in slowly at first and he considerately asked Sarah is she could take more of his thick staff. 'Oh yes, yes, don't stop now!' she gasped and so he worked his shaft in and out of her uninhibitedly, pushing his whole body forwards and backwards, making her delicious buttocks smack loudly against his belly as he heaved away.

'My cock's right up your bottom, Sarah!' he cried out as he leaned over her to fondle and weigh her lush breasts and to diddle her juicy pussey. She turned her head round to meet his lips with her own and as they kissed I could see from the provocative wiggling of her posterior there was no doubt how much she was enjoying his thick prick pounding in and out of her gorgeous backside.

'This is too wonderful, oh, keep rotating your arse, Sarah and I'll shoot my spunk into you,' my uncle groaned, as the aroused girl mashed her bum-cheeks against his belly. 'Now, Gordon, give it to me!' she commanded, and he needed little effort to obey, for within seconds, with a tremendous jerk of his hips, he flooded her rear dimple with such vibrant thrusts that I could almost see the ripples of orgasmic delight that ran down Sarah's spine as she achieved a superb climax. As she artfully pushed her bottom back and forth, spout after spout of creamy spunk lathered her puckered little orifice as Uncle Gordon pumped his jism he groaned with joy.

He withdrew his still-stiff staff from her arse with an audible 'pop' and Sarah turned round to grasp his rammer which glistened wetly from his own copious emission. 'You know, I think there is still some life in your old cock,' she said, thoughtfully, rubbing the shaft between her palms until it stood up almost as proudly as before it entered her nether regions. 'Why, it looks good enough to eat, don't you think?'

'Suck it and see,' said my uncle, hoarsely, as Sarah knelt down in front of him and began to lick the spunk off his cock. She gave his prick a loving squeeze and uncapped the mushroom shaped crown which she greedily gobbled into her mouth. Uncle Gordon eased in a further three inches or so between her lips and Sarah sucked noisily upon her sweetmeat. I noticed with interest how she varied her sucking with long lingering licks along the underside of his now fully erect penis, a technique I had only read about in the pages of The Oyster. But now I could see the technique actually performed and in great style as Sarah switched to nibbling the rosy dome of Uncle Gordon's throbbing prick with her teeth. Then she circled the base of his shaft as she sucked in almost all of his twitching tool and this brought Uncle Gordon to the brink of ecstasy. An aching cry of release escaped from his throat as, arching his back, he jetted spurt after spurt of sticky semen into Sarah's waiting mouth as she sucked and swallowed again and again until the last drops of his manly essence had been discharged.

'Oh, I did enjoy that,' said Sarah, as she kissed Uncle Gordon's gleaming shaft which was now losing its hardness and had visibly shrunk back into its normal flaccid state. 'I must say that your sperm has a really tasty salty flavour to it. Now then, what would you say to a little fuck?'

'Hello, little fuck,' he said, wittily. 'And that's just about all I could say, Sarah, you wicked minx, it'll take me all day to recover as it is.'

'You can always try the mustard-up-the-arse treatment,' she giggled, and for a reply he smacked her lovely bum-cheeks in mock anger. 'I don't think so, my girl. Anyhow, you'd better get back to your room before Mrs. Callaghan comes storming upstairs to find out why you're not already at work.'

'Gosh, you're right, I'd better go,' said Sarah, slipping on her dressing-gown and slippers. I was later to discover that Uncle Gordon was also fucking our housekeeper every Tuesday and Thursday evenings which was another reason he wanted to keep secret his tryst with Sarah -but that is another story which will have to be told at another time.

As the stimulating show next door was obviously ended, I rushed back to my bed, threw up my nightgown and plunged my fingers into my fur-lined little pussey which was already wet through with excitement. I only had to jerk my fingers in and out for a few seconds before my girlish cunney juices gushed down my thighs as I brought myself off.

After my morning bath I joined Jonathan and Uncle Gordon at the breakfast table. I only required a simple meal of orange juice followed by tea and toast. Jonathan, too, ate sparingly, for he was going to play tennis at the Nettletons' with his school-friend Frederick and some other young fellows. We were fortunate enough to have Colonel and Mrs. Nettleton as neighbours for their son Charles was an excellent player who won the All-England Championship at Wimbledon last year and he was kind enough to coach the local lads who expressed an interest in this game which is fast growing in popularity. (Why I take the time to mention this fact will become clear shortly.)

In contrast, through, my uncle Lord Gordon MacChesney munched his way through porridge, a generous plate of kedgeree together with lashings of buttered toast plastered with Mrs. Callaghan's admittedly delicious home-made strawberry jam. Obviously, my randy relative needed to refresh himself after all the indoor exercise he had taken and indeed I was soon to learn that the devotions at the altar of Venus and Priapus can be most tiring and the body should always be revived by good food and drink after an enervating stint of sucking and fucking.

It was time now to telephone Jimmy who was hopefully in London. To secure total privacy I went to my parents' bedroom and locked the door behind me. I recognised the voice of Miss Maggs, our local telephonist, when she told me that she would try to make the long distance connection straightaway, and I hoped that, unlike many country operators, she did not listen in to people's conversations. However, Miss Maggs achieved the link with London without any trouble and I prayed that Jimmy would be at home as I gave my name to the servant who answered the telephone at the other end. I asked to speak to Jimmy and I almost jumped for joy when he asked me to hold the line for just one moment.

'Hello Rosie, what a lovely surprise to hear from you,' said Jimmy, cheerfully, when he came to the phone. 'How are you all down in the country?'

'I'm very well, Jimmy, but I am not ashamed to admit that I am very lonely. Papa and Mama are away, Jonathan is out playing tennis and Uncle Gordon is not much company for me. Would it be possible for you to come and visit me? We could spend lots of time together, just the two of us.' I was tempted to add a remark of perhaps a more intimate nature but who knows who might be listening in either here or at Jimmy's house-nevertheless, I added: 'I would love to take a walk in the woods with you and have a picnic lunch. The weather is wonderful today, blue skies and lots of golden sunshine.'

'It's very tempting,' he said, with an eagerness that broke through the distance between us. 'I was going to watch the cricket match between Eton and Harrow this afternoon but as luck would have it my parents are also away so I'm just going to skip the cricket and take the first train down to Midhurst.'

I squealed with delight. 'Oh, how marvellous! I'll have the coachman meet you at the station. You'll manage to get the eleven o'clock train from Victoria, won't you?'

'I'll be on it, never fear,' Jimmy promised, and after a short pause he added somewhat shyly: 'Er, should I bring an overnight bag?'

'You can stay overnight, Jimmy? I'm so pleased-perhaps you can stay for a few days. I'm sure we can find plenty to do all day.'

'And what about at night?' he asked teasingly.

I was so happy that I became reckless and caring not whether Miss Maggs or anyone else was listening to us, I replied: 'Ah, that will be our special time. I have some secret plan for the warm summer evenings which I know you will enjoy even more than taking outdoor exercise during the daylight hours.'

'It sounds spiffing, Rosie. Let's say goodbye now as I must get Goulthorp to pack a bag for me. Should I bring my man along, Rosie, or will you spoil me as usual so that I can leave my servant at home?'

Jimmy might have guessed that I had planned some hi-jinks when I told him to leave Goulthorp in London as the staff at Argosse Towers hardly had enough to do in the absence of my parents. After blowing a kiss to each other down the line we said au revoir and I replaced the receiver with a blissful smile on my face.

The sun was now shining fiercely and as I entered the drawing room Uncle Gordon looked up from his armchair and the sheaf of papers he was studying and said: 'Rosie, my dear girl, I hope you won't be going out for too long in this weather because I don't want you over-tiring yourself-but if you must venture outdoors, do remember to take your parasol for too much sun will affect your lovely complexion.'

I informed him that I was only going to Midhurst Station in the carriage to meet Jimmy Horobin who would be staying a night or two with us. My uncle frowned. 'Really, Rosie, you should have told me beforehand that you were expecting a guest. I shall have to tell Mrs. Callaghan to prepare a room for young Horobin. Is his man coming too?'

'No, he is coming alone as it is only a short informal visit. I'm sorry I forgot to mention the matter before but I have only just confirmed the arrangements with Jimmy on the telephone.'

Uncle Gordon sighed. 'Very well, Rosie, but could you have not simply written a letter instead? A telephone call to London costs at least five shillings. I won't sneak on you this time, though your Mama will accuse me of needless extravagance, for she has it in her head that I use the telephone constantly to speak to my London friends when the truth is that I come down here to get away from the noise and bustle of the city.'

And to fuck our prettiest servant girls, I added silently, and live off the fat of the land. Still, Uncle Gordon was a nice old stick really and he and Sarah had just afforded me a most educational and entertaining diversion, so I meekly accepted his rebuke which, after all, was not unfairly given.

'I am going out myself shortly to Mr. Andrew Bennett's house over at East Lavington and I don't expect to be back till around six o'clock because you remember my interest in folk songs? Well, Mr. Bennett has purchased the latest recording equipment and we hope to get some villagers to sing into the machine and preserve these old ditties for posterity. You and young Horobin are welcome to join us this afternoon if you are interested.

'Than you, uncle, but I think we have already made other plans,' I said, with genuine regret, for I have always derived great enjoyment from all kinds of music. 'Do send me a set of the recordings when they have been finished. Are those sheets on your lap some of the songs you will be recording?'

'Yes, we'll try and get through as many as we can. Look, here is one of my favourites. Would you like to hear it? It's called 'Rosebuds In June':

Here the rosebuds in June, and the violets are blooming;

The small birds they warble from ev'ry green bough,

Here's the pink and the lily,

And the daffydowndilly,

To adorn and perfume the sweet meadows in June.

'Tis all before the plough the fat oxen go slow

And the lads and the lasses to the sheep-shearing go.

A pleasant, simple melody, don't you agree? Farmer Massey is giving his labourers an afternoon off to come and sing for us and Mr. Bennett is providing a barrel of beer to loosen their throats. I'm sure we'll have a most rewarding day.'

Not as rewarding as the day I hoped to have, I said to myself as I pulled the cord to summon Sayers the butler and inform him of the day's arrangements and of the impending arrival of our guest. I also suggested a luncheon menu he should ask Mrs. Moser, our cook, to prepare for Jimmy and myself.

I could scarcely wait until just before noon when Haines came to the drawing room to inform me that the carriage awaited me, Haines the coachman had brought out a very smart landaulet (a small four-wheel carriage with a top in two parts so that it could be closed or thrown half or entirely open – Editor) and in no time at all we were at the station. The London train was as punctual as ever and my spirits soared as I saw Jimmy leap down from his compartment. He had already pulled out his two cases by the time I reached him (I could not be too forward in front of Haines) and offered only my hand in greeting.

'Welcome to Sussex, Jimmy! It was so good of you to drop everything at a moment's notice for me.' I said, brightly, as Jimmy clasped my hand and kissed my cheek. 'How could I spurn such an urgent invitation,' he smiled. 'I can hardly wait to find out what surprises you have in store for me.'

'You won't be disappointed,' I promised, as we walked to the carriage. I told Haines to lower the roof so that Jimmy and I could talk privately and as we pulled away from the station Jimmy whispered: 'You know, I may have the tiniest inkling of what is in your mind, Rosie. I just pray that I've guessed correctly because I'll be overjoyed if I am on the right track.'

I pondered my reply as I looked at my handsome hero. Jimmy was so good-looking, being blessed with a slim figure, a fresh-complexioned face with sparkling blue eyes and a trim moustache as fair as the hair on his head which he wore always slightly on the long side, which I am sure he knew pleased the ladies but irritated his father, Viscount Sevenoaks, who was an old-fashioned 'short-back-and-sides' individual. I decided to act boldly. 'Did you have in mind something like this?' I said softly, and without further ado kissed him firmly on the lips. He responded by taking me in his arms and returned my advance by embracing me as our mouths mashed together and I could feel his cock rise against my tummy.

This was as far as we had ever journeyed on our voyage to paradise although I had let Jimmy feel my breasts through the silk of my ballgown as we canoodled together in a quiet corner during the dancing at his eighteenth birthday party back in March and I had often wondered about his hard, bulging manhood which had so often pressed against me.

I fought to keep control as Jimmy's tongue entered my mouth and we french-kissed with a burning passion. But his hands were roaming freely across my body and my nipples hardened as he fondled my firm young breasts. My own fingers were dangerously near the big bulge between his legs and it took only a little gentle pressure from his elbow to force my hand lower and stroke the hard pole I could feel straining against the soft flannel material of his trousers. Our tongues were now moving madly in each other's mouths as Jimmy unbuttoned my blouse and slipped his hand inside to ease down the straps of my chemise over my shoulders. He now squeezed and rubbed my bared breasts which made my pussey dampen perceptively. With his left hand he somehow managed to tear open the first buttons of his flies-but just as I was about to handle a naked cock for the very first time, the landaulet suddenly jerked to a halt and we almost found ourselves sprawled out on the floor.

'I'm terribly sorry, Miss Rosie,' called out Haines. 'We're at the railway level-crossing and the bloody keeper's rushed out of his cottage to close the gates on us, stupid bleeder. Oh, beg your pardon, miss.'

Somehow we managed to stifle our laughter as we heard our driver shout out: 'Why the hell couldn't you let us through, Mr. Tong? There's not a train in sight, you silly old bugger!'

'Don't you talk to me like that, coachman, I've got to shut the gate at twelve eighteen, train or no train. Be patient and you'll live longer,' said the offended Mr. Tong.

Haines lapsed into an angry mutter but I took the opportunity of delivering a little smack on Jimmy's wrist. 'Take your hands off my titties, we'll be home in ten minutes. After luncheon we'll be able to find somewhere private and we'll have all the time in the world for spooning without any interruptions/

Of course Jimmy was as frustrated as me at the unwarranted intrusion on our petting but his face brightened as he buttoned his trousers and I readjusted my chemise and did up my blouse. 'Gosh, that sounds great-a romp in the sun with Rosie. What more could a chap ask?'

'Well, how about a decent lunch for starters?' I said, and we snuggled up side by side as we waited for the twelve twenty-two train to Chichester to chug through and we moved forward again as Haines snarled a final imprecation at Mr. Tong.

'That old fool really is what my housemaster would call a “jobsworth",' said Jimmy lightly.

'What's a “jobsworth", Jimmy?'

'Oh, one of these people with tiny authority who never deviate from the rules even when it is pointed out how silly the regulation might be. Ask them to be flexible and they always say: “I'm sorry, sir, but it's more than my job's worth to do that.” '

I smiled at his shrewd comment but felt it necessary to say that Mr. Tong was not entirely in the wrong. 'Suppose the twelve twenty-two express had been a couple of minutes early? We would have been sent to kingdom come if for some reason our wheels had become jammed in the railway track and in a panic we were unable to alight quickly.

'On second thoughts, you are absolutely right. Haines was simply in far too much of a hurry to get home for his lunch,' he agreed.

'He was more likely in too much of a hurry to get his hands on Alice, the chambermaid who will be making up your bed tonight. I've seen them cuddling in the servants' quarters before now and I once heard Alice tell Sarah, who looks after my room and Uncle Gordon's suite, that Haines has got the fattest prick she had ever seen.'

'Isn't she a lucky girl, then?' Jimmy chuckled, as we reached Argosse Towers and I saw Sayers waiting at the steps to open the door of the landaulet for us. With him was young Alfred, the page-boy who would take care of Jimmy's luggage and I hurriedly whispered to Jimmy that Alfred was also well-endowed for a lad of his age. 'How on earth do you know that?' grinned Jimmy. 'It must be this fresh country air.' 'No, no, I just happened to come across Alfred and my brother comparing the size of their cocks.' I explained hastily, deciding to leave Sarah out of the story in case Jimmy got any naughty ideas about her!

'I'm sure you'd like to change before luncheon,' I said, as we strode inside. 'Would a simple meal of vegetable soup, red mullet and salad with Mrs. Moser's famous apple pie and cream to finish off with be enough for you? We will dine fully tonight when my Uncle Gordon returns.'

'Sounds absolutely scrumptious-can you give me half an hour to unpack and wash my hands?'

I have a sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Moser and all those downstairs knew that Jimmy was a very special friend of mine. Certainly, Sayers and Sarah (who deputised for Dennison the footman who Uncle Gordon had taken to Mr. Bennett's) waited upon us at luncheon in fine style and could hardly have been more attentive than if His Majesty King Edward VII had been sitting in Jimmy's chair! And afterwards, just before we were about to retire next door to the comfort of the superb Blue Room to enjoy coffee and petit fours, Mrs. Moser herself appeared in the doorway-a rare sight indeed, for she was rarely seen outside of the kitchen.

'Excuse me, Miss Rosie, Mr. Horobin, I hope you will forgive me coming in but I do hope that you enjoyed your lunch.'

TO say we did, Mrs. Moser,' said Jimmy, heartily. 'I wish you would come and work for us in London. Since we lost Mrs. Bidder's services to Lady Arkley, Mama has found it impossible to find a really first-class cook.'

Mrs. Moser was really pleased. “Thank you, sir, that's very kind. But I'm very happy here and I've been to London twice already and it's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't like to live there.'

'Well, I don't think I'd disagree with you. But before I leave, I must especially compliment you on your apple pie-it was absolutely delicious and just a little bit different. What's your secret, Mrs. Moser?'

'I don't really know, sir, except that in the filling I use the rind of a small lemon and two tablespoons of lemon juice with a pinch of mixed sweet spices in the filling.'

I think Sarah was a little jealous of the praise Jimmy was lavishing upon the cook for I was sure I heard her mutter something about a dab of mustard! So somehow managing not to giggle, I said: 'And the meal was served quite splendidly too, wasn't it, Jimmy?'

He turned and gave Sarah a dazzling smile. 'Oh yes, Sayers was as efficient as ever and Sarah, you were quite splendid-and much prettier than Dennison!'

Sarah returned his smile and bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, sir, it was a pleasure to serve you.'

Now it was my turn to feel an irritable twitch of jealousy.

'Good, now let's have coffee in the Blue Room, Jimmy. Then we'll go for a walk, alright?'

'Yes, yes,' he said, but I noticed he was still looking at Sarah who I could have sworn had provocatively licked her upper lip at Jimmy as he turned away to follow me out of the dining-room. Nevertheless, I put the incident out of my mind as we relaxed together on the new Chesterfield Papa had purchased at Harrods a few months before. But soon after we had taken a few sips of coffee, Jimmy put his arms around me and murmured softly: 'Dash it, Rosie, it's jolly hot outside, why don't we take a short walk to my bedroom?'

'What a splendid idea,' I replied. 'Only we must be careful and ensure that we are not observed. All it needs is one servant to discover us and you can be sure that the gossip will spread not only all over the county but even back in Society circles.'

'Damn Society, I despise it,' he grinned.

'Don't say that, Jimmy. As Mama says, only people who cannot get into it take that attitude.'

'Fair enough, Rosie, but I do so want you to come with me. Can't I persuade you?' he asked, with a roguish smile.

Jimmy held out his hand and pulled me to my feet. To be honest, I needed little or no persuading for frankly I wanted to fuck just as much as Jimmy but it would have been unladylike of course to have admitted it at this stage. So as we made our way carefully to his bedroom I pretended to chide him saying how naughty he was to drag me upstairs and how we would be far better off taking a gentle afternoon stroll round the estate-which was actually all very silly because I would have been extremely angry if he had taken note of my protestations and actually turned back! Mind, if I had genuinely not wanted to be fucked, I would have disengaged my hand from his and simply stalked off into the drawing-room. Just as I have never believed in prick-teasing, as the vernacular succinctly describes the practice, I demand to be respected when I decline an invitation to have sexual intercourse. Not that Jimmy would ever have tried to force me to do anything against my will-and let me say here and now, woe betide any man who would attempt such a contemptuous course. Fortunately I have only ever had to knee one over-persistent man in the groin and that was Sheik Yormonai from Mesopotamia at a soiree given by Papa's friends at the Foreign Office.

But on this never-to-be-forgotten afternoon there was an unspoken yet telepathic desire for sexual congress between this handsome youth and myself, a desire of such power that nothing could prevent or deny its fulfilment. I do not believe that even if, for instance Uncle Gordon had returned unexpectedly, we would have just passed him by with a hurried greeting and continued our way up to Jimmy's bedroom without interruption.

As it turned out, to the best of my knowledge we managed to reach our haven without being seen. Once we were safely inside, Jimmy wisely locked the door behind us and held me in his arms. 'Rosie,' he began, but I put my finger to his lips for at this moment no words were necessary. Our bodies crushed together as we held each other tightly, kissing and cuddling with great fervour as we staggered as if intoxicated by the emotion of the moment until we fell in an untidy heap upon the bed.

If anything, this total tangling of our limbs intensified our passion-our lips were still locked together and our tongues continued to make darting journeys of exploration inside each other's wet mouths. I shuddered with excitement as I felt Jimmy's hand move slowly, lingeringly over my shoulder and down towards the valley of my breasts, moulding the silk of my blouse against the skin. This sent shivers throughout my body and I smiled dreamily at Jimmy as I heard him catch his breath when he deftly undid all the buttons of my blouse. For as I shrugged off the garment he saw that I had taken off my chemise whilst he had unpacked his bags and my swelling breasts now stood out proudly in glorious nudity. He let his quivering hands cup my rounded bosoms and then his mouth moved from mine and he kissed me all over my neck and throat before his lips reached my already erected little titties. He took each nipple in turn between his lips whilst I unbuttoned my skirt and wriggled out of it as Jimmy sucked eagerly on my red, tingling titties.

I was now engulfed in frenzied waves of ecstasy and I raised my bottom upwards to let Jimmy pull down my nickers. His hands then moved from my breasts across my flat stomach to the golden triangle of crisp blonde hair that nestled between my thighs. His fingers began to caress and stroke and probe until my pussey was wet through with love juices. Carefully, he gently inserted the tip of his finger in my sopping slit and I cried out with the almost unbearable sensual pleasure of this new joy.

I closed my eyes and let the erotic electricity of his frigging send sparks of fire throughout every nerve and fibre. And then he parted my thighs and dipped his head between them and with his tongue licked and lapped at my cunney which nearly brought me off then and there. Not surprisingly, when he forced his tongue between my cunt lips, my clitty swelled up to greet him, popping out of its hood and he playfully nibbled at it with his teeth, nipping and sucking, which sent me quite mad with desire. 'Take me, Jimmy, take me!' I begged, a heartfelt cry that was answered just as soon as he somehow managed to tear off his clothes whilst continuing this divine oral cuntal stimulation.

When he was finally naked he raised his head from my drenched pussey and lifted his wiry frame over me. I was aching for the feel of his prick which I grasped in my hand. It was as smooth as silk to my touch, as big and firm as a polished wood baton and I slowly rubbed the hot pulsing pole which made him sigh with a fresh lust. 'Rosie darling, I want to fuck you,' he breathed softly. 'Are you ready for me?'

'Oh yes, Jimmy, yes, please fuck me,' I whispered back, still stroking his lovely swollen shaft. 'I want your darling penis inside me as I have never wanted anything in my life!'

Our mouths pressed together and my arms clasped about his shoulders as I opened my legs and wrapped them around his waist. Jimmy cupped the two cheeks of my bum in his hands to raise them to greet the uncapped purple dome of his majestic tool which nudged its way between my cunney lips. He hovered for an instant and then I thrilled with rapture as he plunged his prick inside my pussey and I crossed the Rubicon into womanhood! There was no pain whatsoever (riding my pony Billy had happily broken my hymen at least a year before) and I shall never forget the joy as Jimmy lay over me and rove his bone-hard cock between those welcoming cunney lips into my yearning pudenda.

Oh, the gorgeous feelings that swept from my pussey all over my body as Jimmy's hard, stiff prick slid in and out of my juicy crack, each inward thrust making his knob kiss the furthest reaches of my insatiable cunney, each vigorous poke rousing a new sensation within me. My juices were now flowing like water from a breached dam, keeping the pathway well lubricated for this marvellous prick which pistoned so beautifully in and out of my eager cunt. He gradually began to pump faster and faster, his big balls banging against my bum cheeks as he thrust into me again and again. My pussey pulsated deliriously around his juice-coated cock and there was so much moisture pouring out of me that I could feel it running down my legs.

At first slowly, and then with quickening pace, I felt the first stirrings of orgasm speed through me. Within seconds our fucking reached a crescendo of mutual excitement and, as I sucked in my breath, I felt the first waves of a fierce, shuddering spend fan out from between my trembling legs as I twisted my cunney around Jimmy's splendid tool. He in turn began to heave and buck with increasing rapidity as I took off to that unique journey to paradise. 'Fuck me, Jimmy, fuck me!' I screamed without restraint, mindless that a passing servant would have heard my lewd words. And Jimmy willingly obliged as he shot stream after stream of warm, sticky spunk deep into my saturated cunt. My own spend occurred simultaneously and I revelled in the glorious climax as his strong young cock pumped merrily away until his ejaculations of sperm subsided. He withdrew his deflated shaft which was now just semi-erect as he rolled off me and lay on his back gasping with exhaustion-and perhaps a little pride for, to the best of my knowledge, this had been the first ever fuck not just for me but also for my dear boyfriend.

But my sexual desires had still not been full assuaged. I took hold of Jimmy's cock in my hand and gave the shaft, which was still wet from all my spendings, a good rub up and down which certainly caused him to wake out of the post-fuck stupor that effects all men. May I take this opportunity to note that now, being well schooled in l'arte de faire l'amour, I do realise just how violent an exercise a good fucking can be for a man. Even liberated ladies such as myself who do not simply lie back supinely to receive our spermy injections do not use up as much frantic energy as our male partners, and I trust that this will be noted by all female readers of my memoir.

Be that as it may, Jimmy was now fully compos mentis and the naughty boy caressed the back of my head and gently but insistently lowered my mop of golden curls downwards so that his huge throbbing tool was only inches from my face. My heart beat faster as the mushroom-shaped crown of his cock neared my lips. It was obvious what Jimmy wanted me to do but in all honesty I was genuinely concerned-for surely I would not be able to accommodate all of that giant shaft in my tiny little mouth.

'Oh, Jimmy, I don't know whether I can do it,' I said, falteringly, as I continued to stroke his pulsing prick. 'Of course you can,' he replied encouragingly. 'Just begin by licking my knob and then let nature take its course.'

Well, I could only try, I reasoned, so I kissed the purple uncapped dome and let my tongue run over the smooth skin. I lapped up the remaining drops of spunk around the 'eye' of his helmet and it was highly erotic to think that this fleshy lollipop had only minutes before been pounding in and out of my pussey. I opened my mouth and began gobbling the ruby knob with relish, slurping and sucking it as my hands jerked up and down the thick shaft. I then jammed down his foreskin and sucked away in earnest while Jimmy jerked his hips backwards and forwards, thrusting ever more of his big cock into my willing mouth. He tried to push every inch of his prick between my lips but I simply could not take it all in and I gagged, upon which the sweet boy hastily withdrew until I had recovered. But I sucked lustily upon as much of this yummy sweetmeat as I could cram into my mouth until Jimmy's cock twitched violently and with a hoarse groan he cried out: 'Start swallowing, Rosie, I'm going to spunk, yes, yes, A-h-r-e!' And what a mighty spend of sperm Jimmy sent spurting into my mouth. I gulped down as much of the pleasantly tangy liquid as I was able but my mouth was already filled with his palpitating prick, so some of his jism spilled out between my lips and ran down my chin. How lewd! How exciting! I so enjoyed sucking and swallowing his creamy emission that I was quite disappointed when his cock, now milked dry by my palating, began to lose its stiffness.

A gleam of pleasure animated Jimmy's face as for the second time he lay back hors de combat. 'I don't know why you are so tired, Jimmy Horobin. This time around I was doing most of the hard work,' I said, in mock indignation.

True enough,' he admitted, with a cheeky grin, 'but honestly, Rosie, you sucked my dick so expertly that I am feeling quite drained.'

I was flattered by his words. 'Did I really, Jimmy? Did you know that was the first time I had ever sucked a cock? And of course I have never been fucked before either.'

'You darling! Damn, we should have had some champagne on ice to toast the end of your virginity. Mind, I do hope that you don't regret losing your maidenhead to me,' he said, with a note of anxiety in his voice.

'No, of course not, Jimmy, especially as my monthlies finished only two days ago so there's no worry about unwanted aftereffects! Was it the first time for you as well?'

'Yes, and fucking was every bit as nice as I had always imagined it would be. I'm sure that no girl can fuck better than you, Rosie. Also, to be frank with you, I have been sucked off just one before this afternoon, and though I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the experience, having you do it was even nicer.'

So Jimmy had been sucked off by another woman! A twinge of jealousy passed through me and I said reproachfully: 'Oh, Jimmy, I would have loved to have been the first girl to have kissed your cock. Do I know my rival? I'll scratch her face, the rotten cat!'

'You silly little goose,' he laughed. 'I assure you that there is no rival around with whom to do battle. No, it's, er, a little embarrassing really, though I'll tell you what happened if you really want to know.'

I urged nun to tell me all and he blushed. 'I wish I hadn't been so honest, but you'll keep this to yourself, won't you? Very well then, I'll confess all though come to think about it, I can't truthfully say that I've any regrets about the matter!

'It actually occurred when I came home at half term in late February. I kept myself in good physical trim because I had just been chosen to play football for the school team. So every afternoon before tea I would go out for a brisk three-mile run round Hyde Park. Well, one day the weather was quite beastly with rain coming down in a howling wind and to cap it all I slipped in some very fresh evidence of horses so I came back home looking (and smelling!) like a tramp. I rushed upstairs to my bathroom and could hardly wait to sponge myself down in hot soapy water. I enjoyed a luxurious soak and then climbed out and dried myself in front of the full-length mirror. As I dried myself I lightly brushed the edge of the towel against my dangling prick which began to stiffen slowly as the soft material tickled it. I looked in the mirror and saw myself take hold of the swelling shaft. As I lightly rubbed my cock it sprang to life, swelling up to its fullest height and girth.

'Like Narcissus I stood there admiring my meaty shaft which over the last year had developed into a weapon of formidable proportions. Well, you can guess what I did next! Carefully I rolled back the foreskin from my knob and I manipulated my cock up and down in my cupped hand. I closed my eyes and thought that nice though this was, how much nicer it would be if my prick was actually sliding into a wet, welcoming cunney! But this reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a soft gurgle behind me. I opened my eyes and to my horror saw in the mirror that I was not alone! Tessa, a young chambermaid we had only recently engaged, had quietly entered the bathroom and was staring with interest at my nakedness.

'Naturally, I was so shocked that I let go my swiftly shrivelling member. “Tessa, what on earth are you doing here?” I gasped. “I'm sorry, sir, but Goulthorp, your valet, told me to change the towels and I didn't know you were in here. Please don't report me, sir, or I'll get the sack,” she implored, with tears in her pretty brown eyes.

'“Now, now, don't fret, I won't say anything. Worse things happen at sea, you know,” I replied cheerfully. She clasped her hands together and said: “Oh Mr. James, you are kind! Thank you so much, I'm so grateful. Yes, I'm sure I know what you'd really enjoy. If you'd like to stand still and close your eyes for a moment, we'll both find out.'

'I was genuinely puzzled-what could Tessa mean? Still, it might be fun so I obediently closed my eyes and whilst I waited I heard a rustling sound. “You can open your eyes now,” she said, and when I did so I took in a sharp intake of breath. For Tessa had taken off her white maid's blouse and untied the straps of her chemise.'

Jimmy paused and moistened his lips before continuing his confession. 'With a sensual smile she pulled down the garment and for the first time in my life I saw the beautiful breasts of a lovely young girl in proud, unfettered nakedness. Her bosoms were firm and rounded and I noticed how each tapered in delightful curves until they came to rich crimson nipples surrounded by pink circles. She said shyly: “Mr. James, you can feel my titties if you like.” With my mouth open with surprise and my prick now quickly returning to its former erect state, I stumbled across and her taut titties acted as magnets to my hands that desperately desired to squeeze those succulent white globes. How I marvelled at the way her hard, pouting nipples pushed against my fingers, as I pressed those gorgeous mounds of flesh against my palms.

'She kissed me and immediately her tongue was in my mouth which made my prick stand up to its fullest height up against my tummy, throbbing in expectation of delights to come. Tessa took hold of my quivering cock and knelt down in front of me saying: “What a whopper, Mr. James! You are well developed-why, it's even bigger than my boyfriend's and he is at least six years older than you.” She took my swollen shaft in her soft hand and cupped my balls with the other whilst she let her fingers run across the underside of my quivering cock. I uttered a little moan of pure pleasure and she whispered: “Does that feel good, Mr. James?” All I could do was to nod my head for I was almost swooning with delight as she added: “You do like my tickling your tool? M'm, I think you do-well now, just see what you make of this then,” she crooned as she leaned forward and to my joy took my now-throbbing tool and proceeded to suck it into her hot, wet mouth. Her darting tongue moved to and fro along my shaft and as she licked the tip of my knob, my ballsack tightened. I thrust my prick frenziedly between her lips, almost choking her. I knew that I could not hold back from spunking even though she had only been sucking me for less than half a minute. Tessa must have sensed my urgency for she lapped furiously at my engorged dick whilst lightly squeezing my balls. This sent the sperm rushing through my stem and the creamy white juice rushed out of my cock which jerked away madly whilst this copious emission filled her mouth. She swallowed every drop of jism and when the ejaculation had finally subsided she gently kissed my now semi-erect penis which I withdrew from her mouth.

'“My, you do have a fine tadger there,” she said admiringly. “And your sperm has a lovely salty flavour. I stood there dazed as Tessa slipped back the straps of her chemise and put on her blouse. “Damn,” she added, “I'm sopping wet down below.” She lifted her skirt and pulled down her knickers to reveal a huge wet patch on them. This blunt but naughty act made my shaft harden up again and without sounding too conceited, I think Tessa would have been willing to fuck but we heard someone coming up the stairs. There was a knock on the bathroom door and unfortunately it was my man Goulthorp who had come up to enquire whether there was anything I required. When I told him that all was well and that his services were not required he then asked if I had seen Tessa. “Tessa? Is she the new chambermaid?” I asked, motioning Tessa to stay silent.

'Tessa hid behind the door as I called out to Goulthorp that Tessa had probably gone downstairs. “Very good, sir, I'll look for her there if you do not require my services,” replied my valet. As soon as the coast was clear, Tessa gave me a quick farewell kiss, pulling my prick one more time “for good luck” as she put it, and, well, that was that, I never had the opportunity to have any further fun with her.'

'Oh, come now, Jimmy, you needn't be bashful with me,' I said, struggling to keep any note of reproach out of my voice for, to be fair, Jimmy had freely confessed all and, as Jimmy later remarked, any man would have been tempted by a seventeen-year-old seductress who stripped half-naked in front of you and proceeded to lick your prick.

'No, that's true, Rosie,' Jimmy said earnestly. 'I will admit that every night for at least a week afterwards before falling asleep, I tossed myself off thinking about how Tessa had sucked me off and how delicious it would be to fuck her. But the pretty young minx left our service only a fortnight later in I suppose rather amusing circumstances.

'Mama had pressed Tessa into service one evening shortly after the events I have just described to take charge of guests' coats at an important reception. My parents were giving a party for the famous Italian opera singer Majora, as Queen Alexandra had expressed a keen interest to meet the great Signora Majora and Papa felt it his duty to oblige Her Majesty. Well, Rosie, the lovely Tessa caught the eye of Sir Peter Lucas who was escorting Her Majesty in the absence of the King who was doubtless carousing elsewhere with Mrs. Keppel. Anyhow, the next day Goulthorp told me that Sir Peter had fallen madly in love with Tessa and had actually offered her his hand in marriage which naturally enough Tessa had accepted! His family went berserk when they heard the news and before the announcement of their engagement could be put in The Times, Sir Peter's father Lord Eastmidlands offered Tessa?1,000 to return the ring Sir Peter had already purchased from Smolasks.'

'Gosh, what a tale-and did she accept the offer?'

Jimmy laughed. 'Yes-but not until the noble Lord had raised his offer to?8,000 and the diamond ring which she sold back to Smolasks for at least?500! The last I heard from Goulthorp about Tessa was that she had set herself up in a nice little house on the Kings Road, Chelsea and was supplementing her not inconsiderable income by posing nude for the society painter Frederick Newman.'

'So all's well that ends well,' I said brightly.

'Y-e-s, I suppose so,' he said guardedly.

His reticence puzzled me. 'Well, what in heaven's name can be wrong in your scenario? Everyone came out of it well enough-Tessa has enough money to set her up for life, you and Sir Peter Lucas tasted the forbidden fruit whilst Lord Eastmidlands, who has pots and pots of money, can be satisfied that he assisted the rise of a poor member of the working class.'

'Ah, you've almost come to the point, Rosie. As far as my story is concerned, the only fly in the ointment concerns the sorry state of a poor member, who may not be of the working class but is still in urgent need of assistance,' he said with a grin, lifting up his limp prick for my inspection.

'Oh dear,' I said, taking his flaccid cockshaft in my hand. 'I'll do what I can to aid Mr. John Thomas, perhaps this will do the trick.'

And I leaned forward and planted a huge wet kiss on the ripe red plum of his helmet. I juiced his now stiffening shaft with saliva and slipped my hand underneath to feel his hairy ballsack. Lovingly, I went down on him and gave Jimmy's big penis a thorough, leisurely suck. His shaft grew and grew until I found it difficult to keep it in my mouth, so I switched to his balls and began licking and lapping at his sweet nuts. He gurgled happily as I paid my homage to his most private parts-especially that so sensitive area between his balls and arsehole-and this prolonged salivating soon had the desired effect.

I had just had the time to once more work over his bare knob and to flick my tongue over its slitted end when his balls began to pulsate as the spunk started its journey upwards. As I gave one last slurp, a stream of warm love juice spurted into my mouth and Jimmy's prick throbbed wildly as I held it lightly between my teeth. I sucked and swallowed his sticky white emission that poured out of his magnificent penis until I felt the spongy textured crown soften. I rolled my lips around it and nibbled away at the round bulb of his knob until his shaft shrivelled into its previous limpness.

To be frank, my pussey was now discharging juices too and I would have loved Jimmy to have given me a final good fucking but he could not be fairly expected to oblige and I bade him rest as I snuggled into his arms for a nice little snooze. After all, there would be time enough later that evening for more fun and games to which we could both look forward to with gleeful anticipation!

I smuggled myself out of Jimmy's room without difficulty and as I bathed and changed for dinner I reflected on how much I had enjoyed making love. Can there be a more pleasurable activity in the whole wide world? I thought not then and I remain steadfast in this belief after four years in which I have experienced (as readers of my diaries will agree) the thrills of fucking in many forms with an equally wide variety of partners both male and female-and sometimes both together! However, back to this all-important day when for the very first time a thick stiff cock pushed its way through my love-channel. As previously arranged, Jimmy came to my room at half past seven to escort me down to dinner. I wore an evening dress of light blue, simply but exquisitely cut by Mama's dressmaker, Monsieur Aspis of Jermyn Street and Jimmy had changed into his evening dress and very fine he looked indeed in his sparkling-white dinner shirt and silk-lapelled black jacket.

'Your Papa told me recently that Americans call evening dress a tuxedo,' he remarked. 'An unusual word, isn't it?'

'Sure is, as the Yankees say, but actually I know the etymology of the word. It is derived from the exclusive Tuxedo club in New York,' I said, as we made our way downstairs. 'No, I'm not especially good at general knowledge, it's just that Uncle Gordon, who visits America often, was asked to join the Tuxedo. He is a country member.'

'Yes, I remember!' said Jimmy, which made us both laugh out loud as we entered the drawing room where Uncle Gordon awaited us. He rose from his chair and I was surprised to see that he had changed into the undress uniform of the Third Lancashire Rifles, a volunteer regiment of which he was a lieutenant colonel.

'Ah, here come the young people,' beamed Uncle Gordon, shaking hands with Jimmy. 'James, good to see you again, my boy. Now I would like you and Rosie to meet an unexpected guest who is dining with us tonight, Mr. Andrew Bennett. Rosie, you know Mr. Bennett, of course. Andy, may I introduce the Honourable James Horobin; James this is Mr. Andrew Bennett who is a friend and neighbour of the family. His good lady wife has unfortunately been called to the bedside of a sick relative so naturally I invited him to break bread with us this evening.'

Mr. Bennett was a pleasant gentleman, somewhat younger than Uncle Gordon, and as neither he nor Jimmy were shy, we all got along famously. Sayers poured out drinks for us but whilst the men downed Bucks Fizz I preferred to sip mineral water. Of course the conversation turned to the recordings Uncle Gordon and Mr. Bennett had made that afternoon of rustic folk songs and apparently an unfortunate incident had marred the proceedings.

As we strolled into the dining-room, And (as the genial Mr. Bennett insisted we called him) told us of the afternoon's happenings at his home. Whilst we tucked into Mrs. Moser's delicious Continental hors d'oeuvres-chopped eggs and onions mixed with a small amount of boiled potato – Andy entertained us with the following anecdote: 'The recordings of Sussex folk song started well enough although at first the yokels were somewhat in awe of the apparatus and as we had thought, they needed to loosen up. So your uncle and I decided to have a barrel of beer brought in and we invited the singers to help themselves. Well, my word, I've never seen drinking like it-not even at the annual dinner we give the farmworkers at the harvest festival.'

'And still they gazed and still the wonder grew, that such small frames could carry so much brew!' misquoted Uncle Gordon with a short laugh, though this criticism did not prevent him motioning Sayers to refill our glasses with more champagne. 'But we certainly got the lads to sing though I hardly think we can release the results for public consumption.'

'Why not, Lord MacChesney?' asked Jimmy. 'Did the drink make their rustic dialect unintelligible?'

'Far from it-the words were all too clear! To give you an example, I heard choruses from “The Jolly Three Ladies of Huxham” that I could hardly repeat even in front of the most liberally minded audience.'

Perhaps it was Mrs. Moser's tasty food which kept Sayers busy refilling our glasses but when I excused myself before our main course to wash my hands, it obviously had taken only a few minutes coaxing from Jimmy to persuade Andy Bennett to give a rendition of the rather rude verses. I opened the door slightly and saw him stand up and sing:

'The jolly three ladies of Huxham,

Whenever we meets 'em we fucks 'em,

And when that game grows stale

We sits on a rail

And pulls out our pricks and they sucks 'em.

Now the poor little vicar of Huxham,

Had a cock which though thick was a short 'un,

He made up for his loss,

By having balls like a horse,

And he never spent less than a quartern.

But those three jolly girls from old Huxham,

This is the true story about 'em.

They lifted the frock

And tickled the cock

Of the vicar about to confirm 'em!

Then out spoke a young girl out of the blue,

Who said, as the churchman withdrew,

“My vicar is quicker

And slicker and thicker

And longer and stronger than you.”'

Jimmy roared with laughter and said: 'I do hope you recorded that fine song for posterity, Andy, I have several friends that would be delighted to purchase copies though I dare say it might be difficult to find a store that would put the record on general sale.'

'You could always sell copies through the columns of The Oyster,' Jimmy suggested. 'I think you would coin it in.'

Uncle Gordon nodded. 'That would be a good idea if we needed to make some money but thank goodness I couldn't spend all I have even if I live to be a hundred.'

'Fair enough, Lord MacChesney, but that reminds me of the story of Sir Charles and Lady Farnesbarnes-do either of you know it? No, well, it appears that one day Sir Charles came home and said to his lady wife: 'My dear, I'm afraid I have lost a great deal of money in unwise speculation and we must immediately make drastic cuts in our household expenditure. To begin with I suggest for a start that we dismiss the cook and you learn to prepare our meals yourself.'

'“Very well,” said Lady Farnesbarnes, “but only on the condition that you sack the chauffeur and learn how to fuck!” '

This jest was much appreciated by the other two gentlemen but when Uncle Gordon saw me enter the room he hastily changed the course of the conversation to far less interesting matters such as the state of the weather and the health of Mrs. Bennett's sick aunt. Nevertheless I thoroughly enjoyed the splendid repast and after we had finished Jimmy and I decided to go out for a short stroll in the warm evening air.

'Uncle Gordon and Andy Bennett are two game old boys, aren't they?' said Jimmy lightly, as we made our way towards the new garage Papa had built last September for our new Mercedes motor vehicles he had bought on a trip to Berlin. When we neared the garage, however, I noticed that the doors were unlocked and I whispered to Jimmy: 'Should we raise an alarm? We may have found burglars on the job.'

'On the job maybe,' I said carefully. 'But I'D wager that we have not been troubled by intruders. Listen to that noise carefully, can you not distinguish the sounds of breaking and entering from the whimpers and liquid sounds of a couple engaged in making love?'

Jimmy cupped an ear and listened intently and then turned to me with a grin. 'By George, you're right, Rosie! The only breaking and entering going on in there is that of a cock sliding into a juicy pussey!'

I suppose that we really should not have eavesdropped but as Jimmy said at the time, it was just possible that we may have been mistaken and that someone was trying to steal our lovely new motor car. So we crept up quietly and Jimmy opened the door very slightly and a flood of light spilled out. It only took a swift glance round the door to confirm my original theory-the strapping young footman Jack Dennison had sneaked away from the house with Kathie, the bouncy little kitchenmaid and together the pair were writhing half-naked on a couple of blankets filched no doubt from the housekeeper's stores. Jimmy was about to speak but I put my finger to his lips. 'Now, you wouldn't like to be interrupted at such a time, would you darling?' I whispered.

So we watched with mounting interest as the pretty girl slipped out of Dennison's embrace to lay on her back and pull down her chemise. The material fell away from her large milky-white breasts which she touched lightly, her fingers brushing the nipples softly and then passing upwards to run through her hair. This movement of the girl's arms made her breasts lift with the flushed pink circle which ran around each nipple heightening its colour, framing the erect little teat at its centre. The two lovely orbs of her ripe young breasts gently bumped together as Kathie lowered her arms again. She then wriggled out of her knickers and ran her hand through the curly brown triangle of pussey hair that covered her cunt.

'Well, Jack, all the goodies are on display-do you want to buy or would you rather send them back to the factory?' she giggled.

With a low growl, the footman rolled over to cover her body with his own-though not before I had time to admire his athletic physique and massive tool which was now pressing against Kathie's belly as he slid his hands under her legs to fondle and caress the bare globes of her bottom. He pressed his lips to the inviting red titties, kissing, sucking and nipping at the delightful little pink paps. He then released his hands from her bum-cheeks and pressed them against the tuft of brown hair between her legs before lowering his head and kissing her pussey whilst his hands sped upward, tweaking and rubbing her engorged titties with his fingers.

Despite his youth, Jack Dennison was obviously an expert muff-diver because Kathie was soon yelping with pleasure as the footman's tongue ran along the edges of her pussey lips before flicking inside to lash itself around her clitty which made the buxom lass shiver with desire. Then he heaved himself up and was about to plunge his rampant thick prick into her sopping wet cunney when the little minx grasped his veiny shaft and said: 'Oh Jack, let's be really rude. Let me suck your darling cock before you fuck me. There is no one here to see.'

With difficulty Jimmy and I suppressed a gurgle of laughter. Of course, we had no desire to spoil their fun and I suppose we should have moved away but though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak and Jimmy and I simply stayed rooted to the spot enjoying this stimulating feast of erotic entertainment.

So we continued to watch intently as Kathie slid down a little, still somehow managing to keep herself curled up for Jack Dennison to tease her sopping slit. As the young man felt the wet warmth of Kathie's soft lips around his uncapped knob, his back arched in ecstasy. She kissed his bare helmet as she played with his prick-coyly at first, sliding her hand up and down the sturdy shaft before tightening her hold as she opened her mouth wide to suck in the smooth-skinned crown of his big cock.

Kathie sucked hard as she drew its soft fleshiness against her tongue and she gradually slid her hand down to the base of the shaft to make more room for her mouth. Down and down went her head as she crammed in more and more of the throbbing pole until she felt it pulsing furiously at the back of her throat. She gagged for a moment and was forced to ease a couple of inches of his immensely thick penis out of her mouth-for Dennison's prick was simply too big for her to suck from top to base. The clever lad quickly observed this and I noticed that he was careful not to push too deeply as he began to slide his enormous rod in and out, fucking her mouth delightfully as the so-sensitive crown of his cock disappeared between Kathie's wide-stretched lips.

Feeling those soft lips caress his cock made Dennison's back arch in ecstasy. 'Yes, yes, suck my prick, Kathie!' he panted as she licked and lapped at his glistening shaft-not that Kathie needed any urging to suck lustily on his fat tool until with one last slurping lick she threw herself down on her back and opened her legs wide, exposing her puffy, tender cunney lips that protruded from the brown curly triangular bush of crisp pubic hair.

'Now it is your turn, Jack. Come now, satisfy me and put it in!' she ordered. His stiff staff waggling out like a flagpole, Dennison answered her call and clambered upon her rich, ample curves. A moan from them both signalled that he had found the target immediately and their lips met in the sweetest of kisses as Kathie jerked her lovely bum-cheeks up and down in order to absorb as much of his cock as quickly as possible. In a trice and with a choking cry his shaft was lodged fully inside her willing cunney and then-pubic hairs mingled as I distinctly hear his balls bang against her bottom.

I slipped my hand down to Jimmy's crotch and was hardly surprised to find that his cock was rock hard and straining uncomfortably in the confines of his trousers. I could hardly blame him, for I was excited myself. Dennison was a handsome young man and the girl was a perfect little Venus, sweet seventeen with large breasts as white as snow, capped with distended red nips. I deftly unbuttoned Jimmy's trousers and pulled out his naked prick, rubbing and squeezing the hot shaft which made my lover sigh with pleasure.

Meanwhile the saucy maid was also swimming in pleasure, uttering little cries that she no longer wished to conceal. 'Oh, Jack, what a nice, thick prick you have. Ooh! Oooh! Fuck me harder you bigcocked boy! Crack away now!' she muttered fiercely.

Dennison did as he was told and I could see that her crack had received all of his cock and he was clenching it tightly as she rotated her hips sinuously, moving her cunney lips up and down his pulsating shaft as the willing lad vigorously heaved his buttocks and her bum answered his thrusts with little jerks of her own. 'I shall come in a minute, go faster, faster!' she howled. 'Right, here we go,' he panted in reply as his balls smacked against her bum with every long thrust. His body tensed and then he shuddered violently as he impelled the first gush of sperm inside her. 'Aaah! Aaah! That's lovely, I'm coming too!' she screamed out. 'Do more, more, more!' as she clawed at his back and crossed her legs wildly as the virile young fellow pumped spurt after spurt of creamy spray into her welcoming cunt.

This excited me so much that almost unconsciously I rubbed Jimmy's prick so hard and fast that he had only time to gasp 'Look out, Rosie!' before a little white fountain of spunk jetted out from his prick, mostly splattering against the garage door but a substantial amount shot over my dress.

'Oh dear, I am sorry,' he mumbled shamefacedly.

'Not to worry, darling, it wasn't your fault,' I assured him. 'We'll go back to the house and I'll change. Sarah will surely know how to clean sperm stains though I suppose it will be rather embarrassing to ask her!'

Jimmy grinned. 'You don't have to ask Sarah, sweetheart. Just pop into the chemist and ask for a bottle of carbon tetrachloride. It's the best cleaning fluid there is. All the boys at school keep bottles handy to clean their pyjamas up after a good night's wanking.'

'My, the things one learns.' I murmured as we took one last fleeting glimpse of Dennison and Kathie who were now lying down in each other's arms, quite exhausted after their passionate exhibition of l'arte de faire l'amour. Of course, we were both feeling terribly randy and when Jimmy followed me into my bedroom I was not displeased when he began tearing off his clothes.

'What on earth are you doing, Jimmy, there are no spunk stains on your trousers?' I asked sweetly.

'No, but there will be unless Mr. Pego kisses Miss Quim,' he replied grimly, as he sat on my bed, pulling off his shoes and socks.

A moment later he was naked and the sight of his supple, muscular body aroused me even more, especially when I saw his cock rise up in salute as I lifted my dress in both hands and lifted it over my head. It took only a few moments more and then I too was naked and we embraced lovingly as I sat down besides him. Jimmy's fingers lightly brushed my breasts and my titties immediately jumped to attention.

'Do you like my nipples, Jimmy? They're not as big as Kathie's, are they?' I whispered.-

'It's quality, not quantity which counts,' he said gallantly as his mouth came down to meet the soft flesh, his hands gently pushing my two globes together as his tongue came forward to circle around my engorged nipples. Then his mouth opened and drew in the red little soldiers, his tongue constantly moving, sending delicious vibrations throughout my entire body. Then I guided his hand down over my white belly to my hairy pussey and I let his long, tapering fingers caress my blonde pubic bush.

I gurgled happily as my cunney fairly throbbed from his probing, my juices beginning to pulse from me in a warm, sticky wetness. His mouth was on my titties again, his tongue reaching out to slide deliciously round my nipples as his hand moved purposefully in and out of my now thoroughly wet cunt until he was sliding his thumb around my pulsating clitty, pressing it and releasing it in a dangerously exciting way. My juices flowed freely as he inserted first one, then two and then finally three fingers up into my raging cunney.

Like myself, Jimmy may have been a novice at fucking but the dear boy had me squirming in ecstasy as his skilful fingers slithered over my clitty, sending me into deliriums of pure joy. I reciprocated by grabbing hold of his stiff shaft and moved forward to bring my lips down to the mushroom-shaped dome of his knob. Insouciantly, I let my tongue run the full length of the shaft, running back to the crown to catch a sticky drip of come that had formed at the 'eye' of his helmet. I ran my lips around the tip and then opened my mouth to accept its entrance.

By now Jimmy was so excited that immediately he forced at least three inches of his swollen todger between my lips and my body jerked instinctively away from the utter force of it. He retracted slightly so that his tool lay motionless for a moment, throbbing gently on my tongue. I closed my lips around the warm shaft and moved my tongue slowly across its substantial width. I sucked greedily on Jimmy's gorgeous big cock and twisted his head down so that his face was pushed into my own sopping groin. Jimmy realised what I wanted and my body fairly shook with delight as he removed his fingers from my crack and began circling his tongue around my dripping slit.

I felt his mouth flick across the grooves of my cunt which sent off fresh waves of pleasure crashing through me. I just had to have his lovely cock inside me now so I gently raised his head from my pussey and lifted my own from his throbbing tool.

'Jimmy, I'm ready for you now,' I said, and he needed no further words as he rolled on top of me as I spread my legs as wide as possible, keeping my hand on his prick to guide his knob between my yearning cunney lips. Dear Lord, his thick cock felt quite incredible as he pounded into me with exciting speed and power. 'Slow up for a moment,' I advised, and when every last fraction of Jimmy's prick was inside me and our pubic hairs were entwined together, I closed my thighs, making my handsome boy open his legs and lie astride me with his cock trapped sweetly inside my love-channel. He could not move his prick forwards or backwards as the muscles of my cunt were gripping him so tightly.

'Got you!' I giggled triumphantly.

'I'm more than happy to be your prisoner,' he countered, 'and I think that I deserve a sentence of not less than twenty-five years hard labour licking out your pussey.'

My reply was to grind my hips around, massaging his shaft as it throbbed merrily away inside my cunney which was by now dripping its love juices all down my thighs.

He grasped my bum-cheeks, which I absolutely adore, and I eased the pressure around his cock so that he was able to fuck me again. Jimmy responded by driving his pulsating pole back at terrific speed in and out of my cunt. Every last nerve in my body thrilled with exquisite rapture as I heaved up to meet his wild thrusts and I wound my legs around him so that his heavy hairy ballsack banged against my bottom as he buried that massive cock in to the very root. We rolled, we screamed together as we fucked happily away. From the insistent throbbing of his shaft I knew that Jimmy would soon be spurting his spunk inside me and sure enough, my cunney clamped down in a final burst of ecstasy as his stiff, jerking tool shot a tremendous wad of hot love-cream deep inside me. I pushed my pussey up against him, burying his cock even deeper to let all that wonderful milky froth bathe the inner walls of my cunt until my whole body glowed with lust.

We lay still for a minute until Jimmy slowly pulled out and sat up, his chest heaving as he gasped: 'Never mind Kathie or any other girl, Rosie. I just cannot believe that any girl could hold a candle to you when it comes to fucking.'

This was a kind thought but I felt it was right to say something of importance to us both. 'Jimmy,' I said gently. 'I do appreciate the compliment and I assure you that I feel the same way. But well, frankly, neither of us has enough experience to know whether what you have just said is true.'

Jimmy looked puzzled. 'Rosie, I don't think I quite understand you,' he said anxiously.

'Well,' I replied carefully, 'don't think for a moment that I haven't enjoyed our fucking tremendously because I have-but we both need to broaden our horizons. Not only must there be other ways of making love for us to explore but by only fucking with other partners will we know whether we have truly touched the heights.'

He bit his lip and looked extremely crestfallen. 'Yes, I see now what you are trying to tell me. But, oh, Rosie, I will miss you horribly!'

'You silly boy!' I cried. 'There is nor reason at all why we should not continue enjoying ourselves-all that I am saying is that if you want to fuck Kathie, I won't mind at all. Similarly, if I encourage Dennison to stick his shaft between my legs, you must try not to take umbrage either.'

Jimmy brightened up at these words. 'Perhaps we could do that together. What did Sir David Nash call his fete a quatre in that letter he wrote in the last edition of The Oyster, oh yes, a whoresome foursome,' he mused, his eyes gleaming at the thought of such lewd rudery.

Well as the old Sussex saying puts it, if you brood over your troubles, you'll have a perfect hatch. Jimmy looked on the bright side and as it turned out, he was to take part in a whoresome foursome far sooner than he could have possibly imagined.

Although I urged Jimmy to follow the Latin poet's advice to carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero, I had no idea that later that very evening I would be encouraging him to slew his proud prick in and out of the love box of pretty Polly Potterley, the daughter of our village blacksmith. Readers blessed with retentive memory will recall her name for I mentioned her at the start of this narrative as the girl who sucked off Lord Gordon MacChesney whenever my randy old uncle could find the time and the place to be alone together with her.

I promised to keep a truthful record so I must unblushingly recount how Jimmy's initiation (and my own!) into partaking of the joys of forbidden fruit, i.e. making love with more than one partner. The facts of the matter are as follows: Jimmy waited for me to change and we decided to make our way to the music room. Jimmy was an accomplished pianist and I had accepted his offer to play for me whilst we rested from our previous erotic labours. On our way we met dear Uncle Gordon and Sarah who were just entering his bedroom. He looked terribly embarrassed and coloured up a bright red when I said sweetly: 'Good evening, Uncle, are you having an early night?' 'No, no, no,' he said hastily. 'I'm just going to instruct Sarah about my, ah, my, ah-'

'Bedclothes, perhaps?' said Jimmy helpfully.

'Ah, yes, thank you, young Horobin,' said Uncle gratefully. 'That's quite right, I'm just going to show her how I like my sheets and blankets to be arranged. Come, Sarah, this won't take long.' And with that he pushed the giggling girl into his room, and following her in smartly, closed the door and locked it behind them.

'Good old Uncle Gordon, I said he was a game old boy,' said Jimmy cheerfully, as we made our way to the music room. Our entire family play the beautiful Bechstein piano Papa purchased in Prague five years ago, whilst Jonathan (of whom I have neglected to mention was staying the night with the Nettletons who lived a mile or so on the other side of the village) and Mama were both talented violinists and were always in demand to perform at musical soirees given by Lady Judy Cole and other Society hostesses in London.

On reflection, I simply cannot offer an explanation as to why that night, almost without exception every inhabitant of Argosse Towers, resident and guest alike, all seemed to be engaged in some form or other of sensual play. Perhaps it was one of the herbs Mrs. Moser used to achieve the superb piquancy of her Poulet a l'lndienne or some succubal grape used to make the '98 white Bordeaux Uncle Gordon had taken up from the cellar during the afternoon. But whatever the reason, quite unbelievably for the second time on this extraordinary evening, Jimmy and I stumbled across a second scene of sexual intercourse!

Perhaps prologue rather than scene would be a fairer description-for sitting on the piano stool with his trousers and underpants around his ankles was our dinner companion Mr. Andrew Bennett, and kneeling between his legs was none other than pretty Polly Potterley, gently masturbating his thick semi-erect prick.

Here she was, holding Mr. Bennett's substantial stiffstander in her hands, lightly kissing his hairy balls; truly, when one does what likes and gets paid for it (and I am sure Polly was receiving more than grateful thanks from Uncle Gordon), one found one's niche in life. And Polly certainly enjoyed her work and was to find fame and fortune only a few short years afterwards.

Now, we were able to view Dennison and Kathie's coupling in the garage without being noticed but here there was no hiding place to hand, although I must record that neither Mr. Bennett nor Polly seemed unduly bothered by what I would have thought to be an unwelcome intrusion. 'Hello there,' called out Mr. Bennett hospitably. 'Do come in but lock the door behind you if you don't mind. Polly's going to suck my cock, aren't you, my dear, and I would prefer not to have any further interruptions.'

'Good evening, Polly,' I said, trying hard to keep my sang froid. 'What a surprise to see you here. Actually, when you're here I rather thought that you might be engaged with my uncle.'

The pretty young jade smiled sweetly back at me. 'Good evening to you, Miss Rosie. Yes, usually I'd be sucking off Lord MacChesney by now but tonight he wants to fuck my friend Sarah, your chambermaid, so he kindly introduced Andrew to me so making sure that neither of us would feel lonely this evening. Lord MacChesney is so considerate, isn't he? But who is the handsome young gentleman next to you, Miss Rosie? I'm sure I've seen his face before somewhere, it looks very familiar to me.'

'I hardly think so, Polly,' I said stiffly. 'This gentleman happens to be the Honourable James Horobin. Jimmy, this young woman is Miss Polly Potterley.' Jimmy reached out to shake hands with the little minx who released one paw from Andrew Bennett's erect prick to smooth her fingers over Jimmy's knuckles.

'I know where I've seen your face before,' she exclaimed. 'I saw your photograph last week in the Tatler. Lord Gordon gives me the society magazines every week after he has finished with them and I've read about you, haven't I? You play football for Eton, and you scored the winning goal against Charterhouse for the Trewin Trophy last March, if I'm not mistaken. Oooh, how exciting to meet you, sir, what an honour!'

Jimmy licked his lips and though I could hardly complain if he acted upon the advice I had proffered less than an hour ago, it did strike me that words of simpering admiration from a pretty girl is a blandishment few red-blooded men can resist. Mind, from the look of Jimmy's face and the stirring movement noticeable in the front of his trousers, I could see that he was not even making an effort to counter the charms of this brazen young hussey. 'Don't call me sir, my friends call me Jimmy,' he smirked, as he and Polly exchanged a meaningful glance which they did not even try to conceal.

'Hold on a minute, you two,' cried Mr. Bennett, who had also witnessed the mutual attraction between the randy pair. 'Now then, Polly, I don't want to sound troublesome but that's my old fellow you've got between your fingers and I thought you were going to give him a good seeing-to.'

'Oh, but I will, Andrew,' Polly promised him, although she looked straight at Jimmy as she added: 'I just love sucking pricks. I do so enjoy caressing a knob with my lips and sucking out the first blob of juice which I spread around the crown with my tongue. It feels so good licking and lapping a stiff shaft and taking it into my mouth. I like nothing better than when the man squirts out his sperm too, it is so exciting when it shoots down my throat that I always spend myself. There's nothing that tastes so fine and clean as spunk. Indeed, I could suck on cock for hours but none of the men can hold back for more than five minutes at best. It really is very unfair, don't you think, Miss Rosie?'

'I'm afraid I haven't given the matter much thought, Polly,' I said coolly, but Jimmy quickly took her part. 'It is unfair, Polly,' he agreed. 'However, I would very much like to offer my prick for your delectation.'

'Ooh, that would be lovely,' she replied with a saucy smile, before hastily adding: 'But first let me attend to Andrew who has been very patient.' The merry girl was pretty enough, her chin being charmingly dimpled with full and pouting lips which, slightly open, gave a glimpse of two even rows of ivory-white teeth set in the deep rosy flesh of her small mouth. Her nose was of the Roman cast, though not large, and her eyes were a sparkling, lustrous brown which matched her hair which she let down so that it hung loose down to her shoulders. She was wearing an emerald-green dress, low cut with a long skirt which I later discovered to be a birthday gift from Uncle Gordon, and when she leaned forward we were treated to a show of her full, white breasts and the dress was cut so low that her nipples were only just concealed by the fabric.

Polly began to manipulate Andrew Bennett's cock, taking hold of his substantial shaft with both hands, but suddenly she stopped and said: 'You know, Andrew, you have been such a good sport, I'm going to give you an extra treat. Would you like to see me without my clothes on?' Well, you can imagine the answer which burst forth simultaneously from the throats of both Andrew and Jimmy! So Polly shucked off her dress and peeled of her chemise and drawers to stand in glorious nudity before us.

I was forced to admire her rich, dark brown hair that clustered in ringlets over her neck and shoulders which contrasted in singular fashion with the dazzling whiteness of her skin. Her breasts were luxuriantly large, proudly jutting out and tipped with small but pointed nipples of a deep pink colour and which I now understand denotes strong sexual urgings in the character of the possessor. Her waist was graceful and her belly flat and covered right at the bottom by a generous growth of nut-brown hair; and from between the silky locks that grew over her love mount, I could perceive a delicious looking little slit with two rosy lips, Polly Potterley, I grudgingly admitted, was as luscious a sight of feminine pulchritude as ever I had seen and I must confess that her body awoke a sensual desire within my own body.

But Polly was now ready to send Andrew Bennett on a trip to paradise. She hopped down on her knees, and opening her luscious little mouth she enclosed his helmet with her lips, working on the sensitive tip with her tongue. She eased her lips, taking in a little more of his shaft as her hand circled the base of his cock. She worked the loose skin up and down the shaft as she began to bob her head up and down and Andrew Bennett's hands now went to the back of her head, pushing her mouth even further down upon his swollen cock. Somehow, Polly managed to swallow almost all of his hard rod and she was obviously enjoying herself as she sucked happily away on his thick prick, an activity that was accompanied by a most arousing and stimulating squelching sound as his stiff penis slid wetly in and out of her mouth.

Polly was well schooled in the art of sucking, for Mr. Bennett was soon gasping as her little tongue flicked out and lapped lusciously on his throbbing stalk and when her teeth scraped the tender cockflesh when she drew his knob into her mouth, the poor man simply could no longer contain himself and he thrust his hips upwards and discharged a copious emission of sperm down her throat. Polly squirmed with pleasure as she swallowed as much of his creamy love-juice as possible gobbling the nectar spilling from the swollen sweetmeat pulsating between her lips.

Nevertheless, some of the precious white froth did drip from her mouth on to the beige Chinese carpet, something that Jimmy noticed and he muttered: “Those smears will take some explaining away, Rosie. You'd better get that carbon tetrachloride first thing in the morning.'

Polly must have heard this aside for she looked up and wiping her lips of the last traces of spunk with the tip of her tongue and said: 'Oh, don't worry about the carpet, Mr. Jimmy. Sarah always keeps a bottle of Dr Humphrey Price's Famous Elixir handy. It's a really wonderful compound that removes stains from any material, whilst Mr. Reynolds the gardener says a weekly dose has worked wonders for his roses.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' grunted Mr. Bennett. 'I'm sorry I came so quickly, my dear, but your sweet suction finished me off far quicker than either of us really wanted. But my old John Thomas won't take long to recover if you're game for another go.'

'Surely, but first let me sample Mr. Jimmy's prick,' cooed Polly. 'Why don't you two gentlemen get undressed, by the way, it's much more comfortable to fuck in the nude.'

Jimmy was the first to disrobe, and he and Polly looked a fine sight as they stood together with the voluptuous girl smoothing her hands over his slim yet muscular body. Their mouths slowly came together and as their eyes closed their lips met in the most passionate of kisses and their bodies too came together and their pubic muffs rubbed roughly against each other. Polly broke the embrace by sliding her lips down Jimmy's body as she slowly sank to her knees. He writhed and gasped with delight as her mouth reached his navel and when the strands of her silky brown hair brushed against his rising prick, he groaned out loud with barely suppressed excitement. Polly pressed his throbbing truncheon against her cheek as she lovingly weighed his heavy balls in the palms of her hands.

She now began to lick his balls, flicking her hot little tongue all around the hairy pink sack. Then she opened her mouth wide and took in both of his nuts, somehow managing to get both of them inside her mouth. As Jimmy moaned with pleasure she grabbed his huge stiff cock with both hands and, releasing his balls, began to nibble the uncapped mushroom dome of his knob. She then stuffed the purple helmet inside her mouth and began to bob her head back and forth, her lips working furiously to capture as much of Jimmy's cock as possible until she had gradually eased almost all of his giant whopper into her mouth.

Jimmy bucked and heaved, thrusting his tool in and out of her mouth in an ever-quickening rhythm and Polly guessed that she would have to stop sucking or Jimmy's proud young cock would spurt its spunk as quickly as Andrew Bennett's, which would never do. So she placed her hands on his shoulders as she lifted her lips reluctantly away from his pulsating prick. She pulled Jimmy down so that he lay flat on his back with his stiff cock pointing rampantly upwards. She climbed over him and pulled open her cunney lips with her fingers and started to rub her pussey to and fro across the end of his bulbous knob.

She then moved downwards a little to let his glistening helmet enter her yearning crack and she gently eased herself upon it so that every last fraction of his sizeable shaft was embedded inside her. She held him in place by cleverly tightening the walls of her cunney and paused for a brief moment, like a rider testing a new mount, before clamping her vaginal muscles on his engorged cock. Then Polly began to rock to and fro on her steed whilst Jimmy arched his body upwards in time with her rhythm, filling her pussey to the limit with his surging, pistoning prick. She pumped her tight little buttocks furiously up and down, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as she held on to her bucking bronco. Each luscious shove was accompanied by wails of ecstasy from the two of them. Jimmy grabbed her pert breasts and athletically moving his head upwards, sucked Polly's rosy nipples and she cried out: 'Oh that's lovely, that's delicious, you've made me come, you lovely fucker!'

Polly was as good as her word and Jimmy helped her in her ride to Elysium, pushing her up and letting her drop hard on his rock-hard penis. She shivered as she began to spend, trembling violently as she reached the apex and she pulled him tightly as she entered the throes of orgasm. This set Jimmy's sperm boiling up in his balls and they peaked together, his hot white love-juice creaming Polly's cunt as she shuddered into a magnificent climax.

'What a lovely fuck,” breathed Polly. 'You scored a bullseye with the very first dart. And my God, your cock's still hard-are you game for another go?'

'I am if you're ready-but what about letting Rosie and Andrew join in?' suggested Jimmy. By all means, I thought, for my blood was now fired by seeing this delicious girl suck and fuck my boyfriend's prick, so I hastily undressed whilst Andrew Bennett took himself in hand and violently friggs his cock so that it stood up proudly again, ready for the fray.

Frankly, I was uncertain as to how to enter the game but fortunately Polly decided to take charge of proceedings. 'I think you and I should start things off, Miss Rosie, so as to let the boys really relax and get their cocks as hard as possible. Don't you agree?'

'That sounds like a good idea,' I said carefully. 'What shall we do?'

'Well, why don't you lie down on the carpet and let me give you a massage,' she replied. I lay down obediently and Polly knelt in front of me, massaging the insides of my thighs. It was most pleasant and I made no objection when her hands dipped between my legs so that her fingertips lightly grazed the pouting lips of my pussey. My heart began to pound as she suddenly switched her attention to my breasts, lightly cupping the white, rounded globes saying: 'What lovely titties you have, Miss Rosie, I'm sure they are much bigger than mine.' I smiled my appreciation of the compliment as her fingers continued to squeeze and knead my breasts until she let her right hand trail down over my tummy and through my blonde bush. The she whispered: 'Spread your legs wider and I'll give you and extra-special treat!' The combination of flattery and the intense tingling feeling that was spreading all over me made it impossible to do more than murmur a quiet word of thanks.

I shuddered with pleasure as I felt her wicked fingers pirouette around the folds of my cunney but I was so heated now that as her fingers slid into my moistening honeypot and started to tickle my clitty that I achieved a little spend almost at once and I could see that Polly was now also becoming very excited.

Now we lost all pretence of restraint and Polly kissed me with fiery passion. She got on top of me and as our mouths met our breasts rubbed together and I could feel her thick brown bush brush against my own silkier blonde as she positioned herself so that our clitties touched each time she pushed her hips forward.

Like nipples, like clitty, the old saying goes and certainly Polly proved the role, as I could feel her stiff clitty protruding out of her pussey. Indeed, her clitty became so big when she was excited that she was able to direct the stiff little soldier to my own juicy passage. She then stuffed it, lips and all in my own affair and closed my cunt lips upon it, holding them tightly together with her hand. It is difficult for me to express how novel and delightful this unusual conjunction was to me. We were both so heated as our love-juices trickled down and mingled as we reached new heights of erotic joy. Without separating for a second, Polly rubbed and pushed inside me, the lips and hair of her cunney titillating my own cunt in a most thrilling fashion. We swam in a veritable sea of lubricity as we both spent mightily, feeling the strength of our orgasms course through our soft bodies.

But still this insatiable girl was not satisfied! She readjusted her position, turning across me so that she sat on her knees with her facing away from me. Then she seductively wiggled her tight little backside backwards so that her dark pussey passage was directly over my face whilst she leaned forward and spread my pussey lips with her tongue, sliding through them with ease as we both began to lick and lap along the slits of each other's dripping cunnies, exploring, tasting, tickling and sucking.

This picture of female saturnalia so excited Andrew Bennett that his trusty right hand flew to his upstanding thick cock and as Polly and I spent for a second time, Mr. Bennett sent spurt after spurt of sticky white love-juice all over us, coating our bodies with jism as we screamed our delight at reaching again the summits of the mountain of love.

We stayed in this position as Jimmy now brought his strong young cock into the game. He knelt behind my head and positioned himself so that the tip of his unhooded weapon was pressed between Polly's bum-cheeks with his balls hanging down almost touching my mouth.

'Ah, Mr. Jimmy,' gasped Polly. 'Would you do me the pleasure of fucking my bottom whilst suck off Mr. Andrew again? Miss Rosie, would you kindly wet his tool with spittle to help him on his way?'

'My pleasure,' I replied gaily, and after moistening Jimmy's thick tool, I raised Polly's beautiful buttocks and pulled them apart so that her tiny, wrinkled little bum-hole was exposed to Jimmy's attack. He shoved in steadily but not too quickly as she wriggled and twisted until he had managed to insert almost all of his cock in her bottom as I licked and lapped at his nice big balls, this lecherous tableau so affected Mr. Bennett that his prick swelled up very shortly to a good hard stiffness and he scrambled down in front of Polly so she could suck his cock whilst Jimmy bent over to fondle her dangling breasts as he jerked his twitching tool in and out of her arse.

Jimmy was first to spend, sending a shower of sperm into Polly's juicy bottom just before Andrew Bennett jetted his jism into her mouth. This double libation of love-juice sent Polly off again but though I enjoyed sucking Jimmy's balls, no one finished me off and I ruefully complained about this unhappy fact to my friends.

'I'm terribly sorry, Rosie, but it will take a while for my prick to perk up again,' apologised Mr. Bennett.

'I'm afraid to say that goes for me too,' added Jimmy regretfully. 'Can you wait a while for us to recover?'

I remembered Sarah's advice to Uncle Gordon, 'Polly, you don't happen to have some mustard about the place by any chance?' She giggled and replied: 'Oh, you know about our old country remedy of dabbing a bit up their arses, Miss Rosie? It's a bit drastic, that-I've another idea, why don't you suck my pussey instead. I'll wager that will stiffen up their shafts soon enough.'

«Oh, I do so agree with you, Polly,' said Mr. Bennett hastily. 'That's a far better suggestion. I'm sure that Jimmy and I would much prefer to see you suck Polly's pussey which would give us both much pleasure.'

The idea certainly did not displease me, especially when Polly stretched herself languidly down on the carpet, her legs apart and her hands jiggling her firm, uptilted breasts in a most inviting display of sensuality. I lay down besides her and leaning over, kissed her upright little nipples, twirling my tongue around them. I flicked them up to a fine state of erection and then let my mouth travel slowly along her soft, trembling flesh downwards to her groin. As I caressed her wonderful jiggling bum cheeks with my hands I let my own nipples, now hard with desire for this delicious girl, tracked down the length of her as I let my hips rest just inches away from the mossy brown bush between her legs.

Instinctively she cradled my head in her hands and gently moved it towards her wet, swollen cunney lips. I paused for a moment to take in the musky aroma before kissing the pink crack, making Polly shudder with anticipatory delight. Lovingly I began to feast upon her pussey, forcing my questing tongue deep inside her juicy gash, sliding up and down her slit. The quivering girl gasped with excitement as the tip of my tongue probed between her cunney lips, allowing it slide through her smooth passageway to find her erect clitty that was fairly pulsating with passion and I let it roll between my lips, sucking wildly on the chewy little morsel. Polly now gurgled her thanks as she twisted this way and that, throwing herself all over the place as she began to rub herself off against my mouth.

Jimmy and Andrew were both watching intently with their pricks in their hands and surprisingly perhaps it was the older man whose staff was the first to swell up. I had no desire for Andrew Bennett to waste his upright stiffstander so I pulled my lips away from the folds of Polly's pussey just long enough to urge him to place his prick in my cunt from behind.

'There can be no command that I would be more willing to obey,' said Andrew Bennett as he knelt behind me and raised by backside in the air, opening my legs slightly so that he could insert the tip of his plum crown between my cunney lips. I wriggled around so that he could push in his prick right up-but alas, despite Mr. Bennett's frantic urgings, his tingling tool began to deflate and even though Polly took his shaft in her mouth and valiantly attempted to suck it up back to stiffness, his penis obstinately refused to harden and he was forced to retreat, making profuse apologies for the poor performance of his limp limb.

Nevertheless, this little piece of theatre did not stop me from tonguing Polly's pretty pussey and as Mr. Bennett made his crestfallen way back to his seat, the lovely girl poured out her love-juice all over my tongue. It was extremely palatable to my taste, with a less salty flavour perhaps than Jimmy's sperm.

Meanwhile, however, I remained unsatisfied! 'My cock's still hors de combat but let me see if I can bring you off in a different way,' said Jimmy, jumping up from his chair and placing himself in front of me as Polly rolled herself to Andrew Bennett and commenced to play with his prick in the hope of encouraging a more permanent erection. I lay on my back, stroking my thighs sensuously and I noticed how the sunlight was playing across my body, highlighting the golden hairs of my bush as Jimmy's hand snaked between my legs and rose into the soft cleft of my cunt.

I grabbed his head and pushed his handsome face into my crotch and he nuzzled his lips against my cunney lips, kissing and sucking uninhibitedly, not like a novice at the art of cunnilingus (which he was), but as an experienced pussey eater of the calibre of my dear friend Sir David Nash who is surely one of the world champions of this noble art.

'A-h-r-e, A-h-r-e,' I panted, as his palating sent shivers of desire exploding in my cunt. 'Who taught you to pleasure pussey like that?'

'It's just a natural gift, I suppose,' he said modestly, as he slid his hand inside my cunt to juice me up even more. Oh how his fingers twisted and turned inside my pussey and it felt as though an electric current had been passed through me and I could feel my cunney juice fairly dripping down my thighs. He then proceeded to lick out my love box until my stimulated slit was almost aching for a real fucking.

Jimmy somehow sensed how I felt for he rose up and straddled my body. I looked up and saw that his penis had now revived and was swelling up before my eyes to its previous delicious hardness. 'Assh, your lovely prick is back in business, please fuck me now, darling,' I breathed.

Nothing loath, Jimmy mounted me, guiding the tip of his knob between my pouting cunney lips. 'More, more-ram your tadger in to the limit!' I cried, as I raised my hips sharply to meet him, forcing in more of his rampant smooth shaft which alas slid out as I fell back. On stiffened arms, he teased my pussey by keeping his cock from entry until I tickled him under the arms and then with an almighty groan he drove down and I took in the whole of Jimmy's cock from tip to root. As our pubic hairs enjoined I wrapped my legs around his waist as Polly temporarily gave up frigging Andrew Bennett's recalcitrant cock to kindly slip a cushion under my arse to increase the delightful pressure of his prick against my cunt. Oh, the divine joy of possessing a hot, stiff shaft in one's cunney! Can there be anything in the whole wide world to even approach the pleasure of fucking with a powerful yet considerate lover who knows how to use his thick, upstanding cock? As Jimmy's stroke became more and more insistent I spent again and again. Then I felt Jimmy go rigid and hold his breath and it was his turn to climax as he ejaculated with a final great shudder and a hoarse cry which rattled out of his throat, he sent his semen squirting inside me, drenching my cunney walls as I squeezed his balls, releasing a further gorgeous sensuous spend that burst forth from deep within me.

This set off Polly again for she insisted on squeezing Andrew Bennett's ballsack and sucking his twitching tool until at last it stood up again, as fine and stiff as a flagpole. She then threw herself astride his hips and with a single downwards motion slid her hungry cunney up and down the quivering length of his staff. She crooned with glee as his glistening pole slid in and out of her sopping nest and they came off together in a grand finale of frenetic fucking.

As time passed we amused ourselves in a variety of postures until the two men pleaded for the proceedings to be brought to an end. 'My goodness, and they call themselves the stronger sex. I am sure that Miss Rosie and I could continue screwing at least till midnight but just look at the state of this little prick,' teased Polly, flipping Jimmy's limp shaft in a gesture of derision.

'Good God, what you need is a stable of studs!' snorted Mr. Bennett, who took umbrage at her remark. 'Few men could have fucked as well or as often as young Jimmy and I did tonight.

'Surely you girls are not complaining?' he added plaintively.

I felt rather sorry for them, so I said: 'No, no, not at all, I think both of your cocks deserve ten out of ten for their efforts. Why, just look at the love-juice stains on the carpet! They'll prove quite a test for Dr Price's Famous Elixir! Don't be hurt, it's just that we girls still feel frisky.'

'You will just have to play with yourselves then,' groaned Jimmy as with a great sigh he turned on his side and in an instant fell fast asleep. Mr. Bennett followed suit so Polly and I dressed ourselves and for a joke, gathered up the boys' clothes and hid Jimmy's togs in my bedroom and Andrew Bennett's in Polly's-in fact, though Polly and I could have carried on playing in this whoresome foursome, we were really quite exhausted too and after we kissed each other good-night, we both retired to our own rooms to await our lovers.

In fairness, I must record that Polly and I did not have too long to wait for our beaux. When they woke to discover that not only Polly and myself but their clothes were missing, they guessed where both their girls and their clobber might be found. Jimmy managed to reach my bedroom and climb into bed without being seen but Mr. Bennett's bare bottom was seen by Sayers on the stairs as the butler prepared to close up the house for the night. However, as our old retainer has always been the soul of discretion I cannot believe that he will report the incident to my Papa when my parents return home next week!

Finally, although Jimmy and I fucked and sucked each other the next morning ad infinitum, alas, a telegram arrived from Goulthorp, Jimmy's valet to inform him that he must return home immediately as his parents were due back in London the very next day.

3. Off to School

The next day I waved a fond farewell to Jimmy as he boarded the 8.4S a.m. train back to town. The only comfort was that we would meet again next Thursday at Lady Macdougal's annual charity ball in aid of indigent members of the bookselling trade. With luck we would be able to slip away far from the madding crowd and enjoy each other's bodies in one of the several guest bedrooms in her ladyship's mansion in the leafy village of Barnes on the southern bank of the River Thames near the London suburb of Hammersmith.

Life was far duller without Jimmy-and poor Uncle Gordon fretted similarly from the lack of a bed-partner as he was unable to fuck Sarah for the following three days. For much against his will, he was pressed into service by Colonel Nettleton to sit on the bench whilst the local magistrate dealt with the latest crop of miscreants. The only amusing anecdote I can record about this event was that one of David Pickering, a poacher, was apprehended by Maddocks, one of the good Colonel's gamekeepers, after Pickering had bagged a couple of rabbits for the pot from our neighbour's land. He would have escaped scot free if in the woods he had not come across the gamekeeper's wife on her knees lustily sucking the pricks of two of the potboys who work at the village inn. Naturally, this stirring sight caused Pickering to cease his flight and as he watched entranced by this stimulating spectacle, he was pounced upon by Maddocks. Even then, he could have escaped but when he saw Maddocks burst out from the brush and threaten to blow the boys' balls to kingdom come with buckshot from his shotgun, the plucky poacher broke cover and wrestled the gun away from the raging gamekeeper.

'Colonel Nettleton is so down on poachers that he wanted to give the poor fellow three months' hard labour, but I said Pickering deserved a commendation from preventing serious injury or even worse,' I heard Uncle Gordon tell Sayers, as he played snooker with our butler that evening.

'Did you manage to change his mind, My Lord?' enquired Sayers.

'Eventually,' replied my dear old Uncle. 'I wanted to reward Pickering with five pounds from the court funds for his bravery but the Colonel would have none of it so in the end we compromised and bound both men over to keep the peace.'

'A fair compromise, My Lord,' commented the butler, as he dextrously manoeuvred the remaining red ball between two of the other colours still on the table.

'Good shot, Sayers,' said Uncle Gordon generously, complimenting our old retainer on his fine play. 'Mind, you've given me the sporting gentleman's favourite choice-should I go for the pink or the brown? Mind, one had to feel sorry for Maddocks, it must have been a great shock for him to find his wife in such an indelicate position.'

Sayers shook his head. 'Not really so, My Lord, the woman in question is well known round the area for her predilection in seducing young men and her husband's rage was in my opinion mostly simulated. Maddocks is not unaware of the matter and indeed I have heard that on many Saturday nights they jointly invite a lad to join them in bed after Mr. Stockman closes the tavern.'

'Stockman, Stockman, now isn't he the chap with extraordinary big bollocks?'

'So it is rumoured, though no doubt Sarah and Kathie would know better than I as to whether this is true.'

I left them to their game, musing that despite the thunderings from the Reverend Boms in the pulpit and the leaflets warning against the perils of the Sins Of The Flesh distributed to villagers by the Misses Allendaler, three crabbed old sisters who lived in the Old Rectory. As Oscar Wilde told Papa when my father dined with the disgraced wit in Paris shortly before he died: 'The Europeans have sex lives, the English have hot water bottles!'

Be that as it may, I asked Mrs. Moser to prepare a slap-up tea for my best girlfriends, who, you may recall, dear reader, I had invited for my birthday celebration on the afternoon of my parents' return. As it turned out, Mama and Papa were delayed for twenty-four hours but I decided that there was no need to postpone my little party. Katie, Gillian, Mary and Susie were all able to come but poor Sheena Waleshaw was unable to leave her bed as she contracted a nasty chill after dancing the night away at her cousin Deborah's coming-out party a few nights before.

'How is poor Sheena? I hope that at least she enjoyed Deborah's dance,' I said to my friends.

'Don't worry about Sheena,' laughed Katie. 'She was the belle of the ball. Why, she had George de Souza, Sir Andrew Stuck and even the Marquis de Soveral fighting to place their names on her card.

'Sheena always attracts the best men,' added Katie with a sigh. 'I bet she doesn't take a blind bit of notice of what old Ma Ogden was blathering about to the sixth-form girls last term-not that you can blame her for that,' she sighed.

Here I must explain that Ma Ogden, or Miss Edwina Margaret Ogden M.A. (Cantab) to be exact, is the revered headmistress of St Hilda's Academy For The Daughters Of Gentlefolk in sunny Devon where we all received our secondary education. 'Why, what did she have to say?' I asked. I had missed the last two days of the previous term, for during his Spring vacation Papa had taken Mama, Jonathan and myself on a most enjoyable holiday in Italy.

'Oh, she decided to call in several of her young ladies, as she calls us, for a private discussion on personal and private matters,' said Susie, with a cheeky giggle. 'I think Miss Ogden believes that we know nothing about what happens between husbands and wives in bed.'

'What about men and mistresses?' smiled Katie.

'Or between ladies like Miss Throng the games teacher and Miss Bulle?' I added, and we all pealed with laughter. It transpired that Miss Ogden, no doubt under the orders of the school governors, had attempted to teach the facts of life to the girls-most of whom probably had already as much if not more experience in amour than poor Miss O. who was not the most sensual of ladies and who had devoted her life to the instruction of mathematics and geography to young ladies between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, few of whom cared a jot for anything except enjoying themselves out of the classroom.

'Honestly, Rosie, you would hardly credit it,' said Susie. 'She began by saying how terrible were these wild women who demanded the vote. “This clamour for political rights is woman's confession of sexual enmity. Always remember, girls, that unless we are prepared to make of marriage a mere civil partnership, dissolvable at will, the correct relationship between husband and wife is one of control and decision on the part of the husband and deference and submission on that of the wife's. Never forget, girls, that where two ride on a horse, one must needs ride behind.” I just don't know how we all kept a straight face!'

'Did she talk about you-know-what?' I wondered.

'Gosh yes, and the poor old thing was frightfully embarrassed by it all,' Alice chipped in. 'She gave us all a leaflet written by Sister Elizabeth Thomson which explains all about how penises swell up when men cannot control themselves and that married ladies have the unfortunate duty to let their husbands place their members in their vaginas. “If ever any of girls get married,” said Miss Ogden, “you will have to let your husbands lie on top of you during their baser moments. I suggest that the best thing you can do is lie back and think of England for it is intercourse, when all is said and done, that causes babies to be born.” '

Well, at least no one could argue with that latter observation. Mind, it set me thinking that I had better visit Dr Bucknall's Surgical Stores in Chichester as soon as possible for a douche, as although I had taken only a very, very small chance of becoming enceinte through my romps with Jimmy Horobin, in future I should prepare myself better for fucking and let the boys know that their purchase of French letters would be welcomed.

Meanwhile, the girls regaled me about their latest encounters with the boys from St Trippett's College who attended our school debates every term and-under the strictest of supervision-the school's Spring, Summer and Christmas country-dancing parties.

Katie was first to tell us of what occurred between her and Robert Bacon, the handsome captain of cricket at St Trippett's. She said: 'Girls, you mustn't tell a soul because you know what my Papa is like-if he ever found out what happened, he would take his horse-whip to dear Robert.'

'Robert and I had both managed to arrange absence of leave one afternoon-we met secretly and wandered through the woods together, holding hands and chatting away like the close friends we were fast becoming. I should tell you that I was wearing my tennis outfit (for I had told Miss Ogden that I had been asked to play with the curate of Little Bristow) and that the previous evening I had taken the scissors to the neckline of the blouse to give the garment a plunging decolette'e finish that revealed the full, firm swell of my breasts to satisfying effect.

'My efforts were much appreciated by Robert for as we rested on a grassy knoll we were soon kissing and cuddling in fine old style. Oh, Robert is such a well-informed boy and I did feel so frisky that when he moved his hands from my back to rove over my scantily covered breasts, I made no attempt to arrest their progress. Of course, he was soon passing his lips over my naked nipples, kissing and sucking the titties like a real lover.

'I had never allowed him to go even as far as this before, but my blood was up and when he placed his hand on my knee and toyed with my thigh I knew what was to follow but again I made no move to stop him. So soon his hand was working its way up my leg and I even let him slip his fingers into the lacy knickers I was wearing and toy with my curly little bush.

'I know I should have put an end to it then and there but his fingers made me feel so good as they toyed with my trembling pussey lips that it was only when he attempted to lift my dress and press his face against my cunney that I called a halt and then only because I had already felt my pussey was already moist from a nice spend. Luckily, Robert behaved like a true gentleman and even offered to put his quivering bar penis back in his trousers (for he had unbuttoned whilst we were petting).

'To his everlasting credit, Robert Bacon did not attempt to force me to carry on further than I wished to go but we carried on canoodling and I will readily confess that I did take his lovely big prick in my hand. And oh! What a tremendous size it was! Whilst this was not the first time I had seen a stiff cockshaft, the upstanding girth and length of this one was beyond all my previous experience. I judged its length to be not less than ten inches and a full five inches in girth. Robert guided my unresisting fingers towards it and shyly I grasped this smooth fleshy pole with my hand, unable of course to fully circle it with my fingers. Though this was the first time I had ever touched a stiff manly organ, I knew what to do and I rubbed it up and down until it spurted a huge amount of foamy white spunk. We both so enjoyed the afternoon that next time I might let Robert proceed further down the path of love and allow him to play with my pussey whilst I lick his prick. I've always wanted to try that though I must say that his tool looks so big that I'm sure I'll never be able to cram it all in my mouth let alone swallow all that jism.'

Katie paused and said: 'Well, that's all that's happened so far, but Robert and I have planned an assignation for the first week of next term and I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to it immensely.'

Alas, tempus fugit, friendly reader and I must leave matters here for the moment, except to mention that the very next day my dear parents returned and after we had made our joyful reunion, Papa and Mama told me the most exciting news-if I was agreeable to the idea, I could leave St Hilda's immediately and in the Autumn take up a place at Madame Dupont's exclusive finishing school in Switzerland. Like Papa, I have always wanted to travel and I was thrilled to hear that he had managed to secure me a place in one of the most sought-after establishments of its kind in all of Europe.

Of one thing I was certain-Madame Dupont's would offer me the opportunity to put into practise the idea of obtaining a variety of sensual experiences. Jimmy Horobin had seized upon my words and acted upon them at the first available opportunity with Polly. Now it was to be my turn!

I stretched my toes catlike towards the roaring log fire and contemplated my first week in Switzerland at Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies on the beautiful banks of Lake Lucerne.

The school building itself was divinely elegant with a sweeping gravel drive, lined with conifers, leading up to a tall, carved wooden door set between majestic stone pillars. In the centre of the tidily clipped lawn was a tiny fountain set about with stone nymphs, and the beds bordering the drive were filled to bursting with fragrant spring flowers.

My days at the Academy were filled with the kind of studies designed to turn myself and my fellow students-a motley collection of girls from all over the world-into elegant and accomplished young ladies of breeding. Mornings were filled with lessons in French, cookery, geography and history, while the afternoons were set aside for music, drawing and painting, needlepoint and long, leisurely strolls on the banks of the lake, collecting wild flowers and interesting pebbles from the water's edge.

Although it was spring and the weather was beginning to turn a little wanner, the log fire in the girls' drawing room where I sat was necessary to take the chill from the air. Indeed, I felt my cheeks flush with warmth as I surveyed the room with its floor to ceiling windows with their breathtaking views, walls filled with books and pictures and its comfortably worn chintz sofas and Chesterfields.

Since I was alone, I kicked off my shoes and removed my stockings, drawing my long skirt to above my shapely knees, the better to feel the sensual warmth from the fire against my long, smooth legs.

With a secret smile of pleasure and stretching languorously, I took the letter from darling Simon, my brother Thomas's best friend, from inside the bodice of my undergarment where it had nestled, undetected, in the cleft between my warm, snowy breasts. From time to time during the day I'd remembered its presence and felt a thrill of anticipation as I counted the hours until I could steal away from the other girls and devour its contents.

I began to read:

My darling Rosie,

Since you left this morning for Switzerland, my mind and senses have been filled with you and memories of our last, sweet congress. So wonderful and delightfully erotic was it that my only desire at present is to put pen to paper and write about it in full, for our mutual delectation. I wish to describe each delicious nuance, that we might both, in our different countries and with the wide sea dividing us, relive the drama of those magical hours when time stood still and I was putty in your tender lily-white hands.

Do you recall how I stood behind you and gently ran my fingers through your soft blonde hair, then firmly massaged your neck and shoulders until I felt you shudder with pleasure. Still rubbing and caressing your back and sides, my strong hands moved round and discovered the full swell of your breasts. I slowly undid the buttons of your dress and, beneath it, your chemise, which fell open to reveal your gorgeous breasts, warm and naked beneath my cool hands.

At my touch, at first as light as a feather, I felt them tremble with delicious anticipation and your nipples swell and jut proudly against my palms. I tweaked them mischievously, making you squeal with delight, and lightly ran my fingernails across the ample, rounded undersides of your glorious titties. My naughty tickling caused you to gasp and your breathing to increase in rapidity, making your tits jiggle and bounce in my hands.

Moving ever downwards and stroking your soft ribcage, at the same time peeling down your dress and chemise to below your flat belly, my fingers snaked inside your frilly white drawers, twisting and rustling your crinkly pubic hair which is as soft and blonde as the hair on your beautiful head.

Suddenly, giggling with pleasure, you escaped from my grasp and, cheeks flushed and tits bouncing, ran to the other side of the room, losing most of your clothes on the way except for your silky stockings and lacy garters. From this position you commenced a display of the utmost lewdness, the memory of which has had me frigging myself dry every hour on the hour from the time of our parting.

At first, placing a delicate finger between your soft, pouting lips and sucking it provocatively, your huge blue eyes looked sulkily at me from beneath your sweeping, black lashes. Then, slowly undulating your slim, sexy hips and gazing downwards, you clasped your large, firm white breasts in both hands and squeezed them together so that your jutting strawberry nipples almost touched, creating a long, shadowy cleft between them.

With a slow, sexy smile you turned your back on me, gracefully parted your long, stockinged legs and flopped over like a rag doll, naughtily wiggling your round, tight arse high in the air and showing your silky blonde cunt hair and your pink pussey lips to me, as well as your little wrinkled anus.

Unable to control my lust any longer I pounced on you, breathing furiously and nuzzling your hair, at the same time fumbling with your fleshy tits with one hand and lowering my trousers and undergarments with the other.

Dropping to your hands and knees, tits dangling, legs spread wide and arse proudly displayed in all its glory, you presented a spectacular image with your soft skin sheened with sweat and your cunt gleaming hot and pink. Panting with excitement and firmly grasping your hips, I sank my huge, engorged prick between the cheeks of your bum and into your welcoming cunt, the walls of which hugged me tight like a long-lost friend.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, I fucked your tight pussey, grunting with the exertion of it, until I heard your little screams of pleasure and I knew orgasm was near. Only when I was certain you'd reached your climax did I thrust my cock into you one final, stupendous time and issue forth my jets of salty spunk.

Sinking to the floor next to you and taking your naked body, slippery and fragrant with sweat, in my arms, I kissed and fondled you and swore you'd always be mine. Please say you will, my darling Rosie!

I'll love you always and find myself weak with anticipation of your letter back to me. Make it soon, my angel.

Your own,

Simon.

With a deep sigh of pleasure and a secret, sensual smile, I stretched full-length on the sofa where I'd been sitting and threw my arms, with gay abandon, above my head to lose myself in a delicious erotic reverie. Quite unaware of how long I'd lain like that, I started with surprise when the door opened and Nicole entered. Nicole, born and raised within an extremely well-connected family of French wine growers from the Bordeaux region, was extraordinarily beautiful with waist-length, liquorice-black hair and ice-blue eyes, an aristocratic, aquiline nose and full, sensuous lips. She and I had become friends almost as soon as we'd met, recognising a shared sense of humour and a taste for adventure not immediately apparent in our fellow students who, for the most part, appeared to be rather a prim, stuck-up collection of young ladies.

Standing in the doorway, hands on hips and looking at me in a highly amused manner, she began, laughingly, to castigate me in her impeccable English – which was, I'm ashamed to say, infinitely superior to my command of the French language. Alas, we English are frightfully lazy when it comes to mastering foreign tongues, but I was soon to play my part in setting the record straight by mastering a foreign tongue of my own-and an extremely mobile and pretty one it was, too!

Looking slightly abashed, I raised myself on my elbow, bit my lip and blushed fetchingly, which precipitated a gale of girlish giggles from the gorgeous Nicole.

'What have you been up to, ma cherie! I've never seen you looking so guilty or, how you say, embarrassed! It's as if you might have a little secret you might wish to keep from me, no? But surely, ma cherie, you wouldn't want to keep secrets from your little Nicole, eh?'

Smiling broadly and showing her even, white teeth, she advanced sinuously and with evil intent towards the sofa where I lay. Squealing with mock horror I swiftly scaled the back of the sofa-a tricky exercise bearing in mind the length and fullness of my skirt-and dropped, rather indecorously, to the floor below where I lay for a moment or two, panting with excitement, before getting to my feet and standing to face the laughing Nicole on the other side.

Moments later, glancing floorwards, Nicole spotted Simon's by-now crumpled letter and immediately ducked to retrieve it and then, despite my cries of indignation, began to read it aloud in her prettily accented English.

Unable to stand the impertinence of the girl a moment longer, I reached across as far as I could and attempted to grab the letter from her grasp. Anticipating my action, she slowly backed away, clicking her tongue in disapproval and dangling the letter between thumb and forefinger, just out of my reach.

By now my blood was up and the thrill of the chase was upon me. Growling like a cat, eyes glittering, I freed myself from the confines of the sofa and pursued the naughty young mademoiselle round the room, both of us shrieking with laughter as we circumnavigated tables, chairs, bookcases and anything which came between me and my mischievous quarry.

At long last, with a cry of delight, I caught Nicole by the arm and swung her round to face me where we stood grinning at each other like a pair of Cheshire cats, breathing heavily after our exertions and with shining eyes and flushed cheeks.

Slowly our grins melted away and I found myself gazing, searchingly, at this beautiful girl's face while she studied me with a look of pure wonder in her eyes.

Not since I'd entered this delightful country had I made love to another woman-indeed, nothing had been further from my mind-and so I was surprised and shocked to recognise the first, sweet sensations of sexual desire rise in my belly as I watched the delicious Nicole while she, in turn, watched me.

Raising a slim finger to her pouting lips she bade me be quiet and then, winking suggestively, she led me to the thick, wolfskin rug which lay in front of the glowing fire. As we stood, facing each other in the warmth, she nimbly undid the fastenings of my bodice, pulled it gently from my shoulders and sighed with pleasure as my large, firm breasts spilled forth. Running her wet, pink tongue over her lips in anticipation she gently took one of my breasts in each hand and, looking into my eyes all the while, lowered her beautiful face to my by-now erect strawberry nipples.

I leaned back slightly, arching my tits towards her questing lips as she took first one and then the other jutting nipple into her mouth, nipping gently with her teeth, sucking lustily and rolling them around her tongue until the feminine warmth and wetness between my thighs suffused me with such longing that I desired only to caress this gorgeous creature in just the way she was caressing me.

As though she read my thoughts Nicole raised her head, full lips glossy and pouting, and proudly bared her slim, lithe torso to my view. Like a young cat she stood preening before me, throwing back her shoulders to display her olive-skinned, pointed breasts with their Bordeaux-wine nipples.

Taking a stray lock of blue-black hair in her fingers, she softly stroked a nipple with it and we both watched, transfixed, as it rose and hardened like a ripe grape. Anxious that her other, sweet nipple should not feel neglected, I leaned forward and took it between my lips, my luscious tits dangling and lightly brushing Nicole's flat, olive belly.

Feeling her nipple swell tantalisingly in my mouth, I raised my lips to hers and, taking her in my arms, kissed her fully and passionately, our tongues entwining and exploring each other's mouths. The sensation of her naked, sweat-sheened tits pressing against my own, heightened my desire still further and when our nipples touched, a spasm of electric desire passed from my breasts to my throbbing, wet pussey.

Smiling conspiratorially we stripped naked and then fell upon each other, kissing deeply and rubbing our tits and cunts together in complete abandon.

'Darling Nicole, how I've longed to feel your naked skin against mine,' I murmured huskily. 'At night in my room I've driven myself almost mad with desire at the thought of my tongue exploring the dark, secret places of your body. Angel, will you let me lick the honey from your cunt?'

'Mais oui, Cherie,' whispered Nicole. 'I thought you'd never ask!' Then, slowly and gracefully she spread her slim, brown legs and stood, feet apart, hands on hips and pelvis thrust forward, sinuously undulating so that with each circle of her arse, her delicious pink pussey was fully displayed to my gaze in the rosy firelight.

Dropping to my hands and knees, tits dangling and bum thrust high in the air, I extended my wicked tongue and licked her swollen cunt, nibbling and kissing its shadowy folds and dark recesses and drinking her musky juice while my soft hands clasped her tight, boyish arse.

After I'd spent a minute or two at this glorious pursuit, I felt Nicole tremble and her body tense with the onset of her climax. Between groans of pleasure her breathing was laboured and uneven, and her body ran with fragrant sweat which I tasted on my lips and the scent of which filled my nostrils.

Moments later I felt her body relax and her breathing become more even. Sitting back on my haunches, I looked up into her face and saw there an expression of pure joy and mischief.

'And now for you, sweet Rosie,' she said, dropping to her hands and knees and gently pushing me back on to the thick, soft rug beneath us.

Tits rubbing against me, she licked the salty sweat from my belly while her tender fingers stroked and tickled my pussey, making me squirm and giggle with delight as she found my swollen clitoris and softly massaged it so that I thought I'd explode with ecstasy.

With the swiftness and grace of a gazelle, she straddled my body, her heels under my bottom to raise and display my cunt, and lowered her own pussey on to mine.

We moved together in perfect unison, our pubic hair mingling in a delicious cocktail of baby blonde and jet black, wet with our love-juices. Once again she reached down and found my clitoris, rubbing and massaging until I, too, reached my longed-for climax and sighed deeply with contentment.

Oblivious to everything but each other, we lay in each other's arms in the warmth from the fire and fell into a light but refreshing sleep.

***

I awoke the following morning with an inexplicable sense of mounting excitement. Inexplicable until I stretched my limbs under the crisp, white bedclothes and opened my eyes to greet the warm spring sun which suffused the room with golden light.

Smiling to myself I pushed the sheets away and lay there naked, bathed in a brilliant shaft of sunlight which pierced a narrow gap between the flowered drapes at my window.

As the warmth enveloped my body and the sun glinted on my golden pubic hair like light dancing on the surface of the lake outside, I began to feel those familiar sensations of longing creep from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. With quickening pulse I felt my tingling nipples rise and harden and the deepest recesses of my belly and pussey throb with a warm dampness as I imagined my darling Simon stroking my body, tawny in the sunlight, and pushing the blunt, swollen head of his cock against the opening of my womanhood.

I squeezed my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each gentle hand, breathing deeply and feeling the twin peaks of my generously rounded breasts rise and fall in voluptuous rhythm.

My entire body tingled with erotic pleasure as I ran a delicate fingernail from the cleft between my breasts, down the length of my slim torso, over my flat belly to the tangled mass of soft blonde hair at its base.

Twining the silky strands around my fingers for a moment or two, I reached down and insinuated a warm finger between the lips of my pussey. As I found and began to gently massage my swollen clitoris, Shockwaves of pure, unadulterated eroticism coursed through me and I began to feel weak with desire and suffused with a longing to be filled with a man's erect prick.

I gracefully parted my long legs, raising my knees and then, overcome with lust, thrust two, then three fingers into my throbbing cunt, moaning with pleasure and writhing in ecstasy on the rumpled sheets.

Flowing with the sensations of my swollen breasts and clitoris, sexy bottom rubbing against cool white linen and cunt filled with mobile, questing fingers I climaxed with a rush of passion and warm, liquid honey which spilled forth onto my soft inner thighs.

Relaxing my body I allowed my breathing to become regular and even, smiling inwardly as I anticipated my next sexual encounter. 'I wonder who the lucky man will be?' I whispered to myself, little knowing how quickly I was to find out…

Later that day, lessons at an end, I felt compelled by the burgeoning freshness of the warm spring afternoon to explore the extensive gardens belonging to Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies.

These gardens, which were beautifully maintained by an upright German gentleman of advanced years by the name of Franzmann, ran right down to a small private beach at the water's edge where we young ladies were frequently to be found in the warm weather, unbeknown to the stern Madame Dupont, dipping our bare toes in the clear water and giggling delightedly as the little waves splashed our legs.

A small wooden pier jutted out into the lake, to which was tied a gaily painted rowing boat belonging to Madame Dupont's son, Michel, whom none of us had met because of his being away at school, but who was the subject of a great deal of girlish speculation and more than a few romantic daydreams.

On this particular afternoon, there being a hint of a chill in the air, I made my way to the tall, heated glasshouse which lay at the very heart of the garden and which contained Madame Dupont's vast collection of exquisite orchids from all over the world. This glasshouse was one of the largest and most beautiful I'd seen, its clear panes glinting like a million diamonds in the sunlight, and its interior as green and scented as a tropical paradise.

Madame Dupont was often to be found in her moments off, aproned and with sleeves rolled up, a gentle expression softening her normally stern features, tenderly ministering to one delicate bloom or another, a tiny pair of scissors kept expressly for the purpose in her hand and a plant spray containing the finest spring water money could buy at her feet.

Franzmann, who shared Madame Dupont's love of orchids, carried out the more menial tasks involved in their cultivation, digging and planting alongside the great lady as she glided majestically from row to row, lovingly sniffing a scented bloom here and snipping away a dead leaf there.

It had been intimated amongst us girls that Franzmann who, to the best of our knowledge, was unmarried, shared more with Madame than a passion for exotic flowers. It was said that they shared pleasures of a far more intimate nature in each other's company, a fact borne out by my friend and fellow student Lisa who, when strolling through the gardens one balmy evening, heard the sounds of mature adult voices speaking in hushed, low tones, followed by much joyful chuckling and the rustling of headmistressy bombazine.

Swiftly crouching down in order to ascertain the true nature of what she was witnessing, Lisa clearly heard the voice of our revered Madame, exclaiming to her obviously male assailant: 'Franz, you naughty boy, I wish you'd stop tickling and find the time to free me from these dastardly stays. A moment longer in their confines and I swear I'll explode!'

There followed a quantity of male and female giggling, a hearty slap of manly hand against ample female flesh and a pink, whalebone corset sailed through the air and landed at Lisa's feet, whereupon she stifled the screams of laughter which threatened to divulge her presence and ran swiftly back to the school in order to regale the rest of us with the story of her horticultural experience, adding a great deal of speculative and lascivious detail for good measure!

I happened to know that on this particular afternoon Madame Dupont was engaged in marking French essays in her study, so I was a little surprised to hear the sound of a melodic tune being hummed within the sultry, scented depths of the glasshouse. I guessed the sweet music did not issue from the lips of the straight-backed, teutonic Franzmann, but it was clearly of male origin. Who could it possibly be?

Rounding a corner I chanced upon a glorious sight, the like of which I'd never before experienced, and haven't since. There, poised among the foliage and the delicately scented blooms was the most delicious male arse I'd ever had the pleasure to observe, clothed in charcoal-grey serge which clung provocatively to the tightly muscled masculine contours, leaving very little to my fevered female imagination.

Suddenly the whistling stopped and the young man to whom the arse belonged straightened and turned towards me with an amused and enquiring look.

'Bonjour, Mademoiselle,' he said, gazing levelly at me with eyes of melting chocolate. 'May I be of some assistance to you?'

'I'm sure I can think of a little something you can do for me, monsieur,' I murmured to myself, smiling.

'Pardon, Mademoiselle?'

'I said, I'm sure there's nothing you can do for me, monsieur. I'm merely out for a relaxing stroll before supper, and the glasshouse is one of my favourite destinations. By the way, my name is Rosie D'Argosse and I am a pupil at Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies.'

'And I, Mademoiselle Rosie, am Michel Dupont, Madame Dupont's devoted son. I arrived here this afternoon en vacance from my college in Paris. I, too, had it in mind to explore the grounds before going to meet some friends in town this evening. The gardens are very beautiful, non? Maman and her friend, Herr Franzmann, like nothing better than to spend time together here, tending the flowers, and other things I have no doubt…'

His eyes met mine and a ghost of a smile played about his lips as he said this but then, swiftly changing the subject, he offered to introduce me to some of his favourite varieties of orchid.

Taking my slim arm in his, rather solicitously I thought, gleefully, he proceeded to lead me towards the very centre of the glasshouse, stopping now and then on the way to show me a particular variety or other which caught his eye.

As we drew closer to the very heart of this fragrant heaven, the atmosphere appeared to become warmer and more humid, and the foliage was so thick and luxuriant that a great deal of the light from outside was obscured, creating a lush green glow, heady with the scent of some of the rarest and most costly blooms to be found anywhere on earth.

By now quite drunk from this intoxicating place, and more than ever aware of Michel's arm, which had been lowered at some point during our stroll and was now circling my waist, I was surprised and delighted when we came upon a little pool of crystal-clear water, surrounded by smooth, flat stones and with a small fountain playing at its centre.

'How utterly enchanting,' I whispered, turning to Michel with sparkling eyes.

'But not half as enchanting as you, Rosie. A girl with your beauty and sensitivity deserves an orchid which will echo those qualities, which is why I've brought you here…' With that, he reached out and plucked a deliriously scented bloom from a nearly plant, its blush-pink petals as heavy and as sweet as honey.

Carefully tucking the flower behind my ear, he gently stroked my cheek whilst gazing longingly into my blue eyes.

Now I'd heard that the French are a romantic race, but never before had I been seduced in so romantic a manner. By now fully prepared to accept my fate at the hands (and cock, I hoped!) of this handsome young Frenchman, I smiled saucily up at him, snaked my arms around his neck and pulled his face to within an inch of my own.

Closing my eyes, I slowly extended my little pink tongue and licked Michel's lips. After a second or two, Michel found my tongue with his own and we stood, lips not touching, tongues lasciviously snaking around each other. Then, lunging towards me, Michel pressed his lips against mine, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and there commenced the most delicious French kiss I'd ever experienced. All the more appropriate, of course, since it was delivered by a Frenchman!

Urgently opening my bodice with one hand and fondling my luscious breasts, he reached down with the other and lifted my skirts, then stroked my firm, rounded bottom through the thin cotton of my semi-transparent drawers before yanking them down to my knees.

Throbbing cock straining against the grey fabric of his trousers, he pressed hard against my by-now naked pussey and kissed me so passionately I felt I was being eaten alive. Parting my legs as far as my dropped panties would allow, I rubbed my glistening cunt against his stiff, serge-clad prick, leaving a damp, fragrant trail on the rough cloth. I felt for all the world like a randy female cat, leaving her scent on a favourite mate. A little something for him to remember me by, I thought to myself with a naughty grin.

Then, deftly unbuttoning his fry, I pulled his yearning cock free and caressed it for a moment or two, feeling it hot, dry and pulsing with life in my hand, before transferring the little drop of pre-ejaculatory cum from its tip to my finger, and from there to my tongue.

Smiling appreciatively as I savoured the salty taste in my mouth, I placed his eager prick at the entrance to my cunt, clasped his boyish arse in both hands, squeezing and massaging the taut, manly cheeks, and wriggled around a little so that the tip of his cock, wet with my love-juice, found my erect clitoris which jutted out like a tiny, miniature penis.

This was more than the poor boy could stand and, with a low moan of pleasure, he thrust his cock into me like a dervish, feverishly squeezing my sweat-sheened tits and pumping back and forth as though his life depended on it.

Should we have been discovered at that moment by some unsuspecting browser, what a picture we would have presented! Me with hair awry and breasts naked and free as nature intended, my dress pulled high around my waist and panties and stockings at half-mast around my knees. Michel, panting with exertion and quite red in the face, fucking my cunt with the enthusiasm of a man left starving in the desert having chanced upon a cool oasis with running water to slake his thirst and abundant date palms to satisfy his hunger. It occurred to me that I was most probably the first girl he'd fucked since he'd last been home from school. How utterly inhumane, I thought, to deny these young and virile flowers of manhood-many of them at the very peak of their sexual prowess-the opportunity of fucking pretty young ladies of a similar persuasion. Were I to be put in charge of the education of these sexy young tigers with their rampant cocks, I'd see to it that they received frequent visits from naughty girls such as myself, well versed in the art of de-spunking.

After what seemed like several minutes of glorious abandonment, I felt my orgasm approach like a tide of warm treacle through my loins. Then, with a tingling thrill of intense pleasure my senses exploded, at the same time as Michel, with a cry of delight and cock pulsating, shot jet after jet of warm spunk into my eager pussey.

We hugged each other tight for a moment or two then pulled away and smiled, wordlessly, into each other's eyes. As we straightened our clothing, Michel gazed into my eyes and said:

'Rosie, chere, that was one of the most glorious fucks I've enjoyed in many weeks. (My fears were confirmed.) 'Thank you, darling…' With that he kissed me on the nose, took me by the arm and led me back to the entrance of the glasshouse. As we parted to go our separate ways he said: 'Rosie, I have a little boat moored on the beach below and I'd planned to take my friend, Antoine, for a row on the lake next Saturday afternoon. Would you and one of your delightful friends care to join us? If the weather's good perhaps we could take a picnic, no? I'll arrange for our finest local shopkeeper, Pierre Bassinet, to prepare us a hamper, and I'll tell him to include a bottle or two of champagne.'

As he mentioned the champagne, I noticed a very definite twinkle in Michel's eye. Could it be that his plans included more than a simple row on the lake followed by a delicious but modest dejeuner sur l'herbe! Would my 'friend' and I be expected to perform in some as yet unspecified way? I certainly hoped so!

'Please say you'll come, Rosie,' pleaded Michel.

'But of course,' I said. 'We'll meet you at the pier at midday on Saturday. Meanwhile, au revoir, Michel… You scheming scoundrel,' I whispered to myself, giggling wickedly in anticipation of the forthcoming weekend's frolics.

Saturday morning dawned. Sleepily I opened my eyes and gave them a little rub. Brushing a stray, pale blonde curl from my cheek-which was still baby-warm and slightly damp from my recent slumbers-I gave a long, low whistle, parted my blushing lips in a sexy smile and began to giggle in a decidedly wicked manner, the sound emanating from deep within my throat.

I immediately recognised this particular expression of humour as similar to that which habitually issued forth from the full lips of the delicious Dora, a saucy and voluptuously popular lady of the night who for many years frequented the inns and taverns of London's Highgate.

Dora was notorious for her brashly extravagant and wantonly revealing ballgowns, worn day and night whatever the weather or the occasion, the necklines of which were cut so incredibly low that her big round breasts were all but completely displayed in their full, naked glory. Her modesty, if any, was preserved by a tiny strip of fabric which barely covered her succulent, and frequently well-sucked, red nipples, the generous contours of which were plainly evident under the lush material of her gown.

Men of all ages and from all backgrounds and walks of life had been known to pay vast sums of money for the voluptuous thrill of burying their faces between Dora's warm, white-fleshed tits and suck at her big, erect nipples. As a result, the fortunate Dora never found herself without a roof over her head or the price of a nip of brandy or a plate of oysters. More than a few gentlemen of means had offered to set her up in furnished rooms in a smart part of town if only she'd save her heavenly breasts and wicked favours for them alone, but Dora was by nature a woman of the street and while she still had her strength and her looks, on the street she'd stay.

The younger street girls would follow her, catcalling and rudely mimicking her swagger as she made her daily round of the taverns, gaming houses and licensed betting establishments, searching for handsome, horny men of discernment who were aching for a fuck with a woman of experience, and were willing to be parted from their hard-earned cash for a rummage in her drawers and a squeeze of her ample bosoms.

But I digress. The cause of my good humour on this particular morning was the delightful memory of a wickedly sexy dream I'd had before waking. I'd dreamt I was a young and beautiful concubine belonging to the king of Ancient Egypt.

I spent my days in the luxurious splendour of the royal harem, partially clothed or completely naked for the most part, bathing in warm scented water, rich with costly oils and essences, dining on wild honey and extravagant sweetmeats, or swapping wild stories and saucy anecdotes with the other women.

The older, more experienced concubines would delight in schooling us younger ones in the gentle, feminine art of pleasing men. In language of a most explicit nature and amid much hilarity, they'd teach us how to seduce, cajole and tempt a man on the one hand, while reducing him to a quivering mass of red-hot lust on the other with skilful displays of stroking, sucking and fucking to please even the most jade of male palates.

From these women we discovered the secret of nocturnal success in the royal sleeping chambers, and how to maintain the king's favour and keep him hungry for more of our bodily delights. We pure, gentle doves were trained to become ravening, sexy she-cats at the switch of a shapely hip or the wink of a glittering, black-lashed eye.

In my dream I was summoned by the king's personal bodyguard who told me that I'd been spotted by His Majesty in the royal gardens and, pleased and excited by what he'd seen, the king had demanded my presence in his private chambers that evening. Weak with anticipation and excitement (the king was potent in the extreme-a huge, well-muscled bear of a man with flashing eyes and a thick, glossy black beard), I set about the task of preparing my mind and body for a liaison with my master.

Aided and abetted by my friends and companions in the royal harem, I bathed, powdered, oiled and scented my smooth young skin, then applied kohl to my lids in the ancient manner, a mere hint of rouge to my already-flushed cheeks and a slick of fragrant beeswax to my full, pouting lips giving them a lusciously pampered sheen. Smiling with pleasure, I eased my long, lithe legs into a minute pair of satin panties, so brief they barely concealed my blonde pubic hair, which gleamed with aromatic oil, and plainly showed the little shadowy cleft at the top of my shapely bottom. I wriggled suggestively, causing my tits to jiggle in a delightful manner, as I adjusted the fit of these outrageously sexy briefs.

Next I insinuated my ample breasts into the matching upper garment, which was just about the smallest brassiere I'd ever seriously considered as bodily adornment. Thickly encrusted with sequin and dangling jewels which glittered and shook as I moved, this exotic creation cupped my peachy breasts, barely covering my big rosy nipples which even now were stiffly erect and unbelievably sensitive in delicious anticipation of my forthcoming sexual encounter with Egypt's all-powerful ruler, who would hopefully, overnight, become permanently enslaved to my charms.

Gazing downwards, thrilled with this unfamiliar image of myself in sexily revealing clothes (I was used to spending my days in innocent nudity, clothed only in my smooth, warm skin), I ran my mobile fingers over the firm, glowing mounds of my captive bosoms, stroking the deep, dark cleavage between them in pure wonderment. Never before had my glorious breasts been thus uplifted and confined-previously they'd bounced naked and free as nature intended.

I then fastened a sheer, floaty garment around my lower hips, stepped into a pair of gold kid mules and brushed my long blonde hair until it glowed and shone as though illuminated from within.

Prepared at last, eyes shining, I was finally ready to receive the king's bodyguard who was to present me to the great man himself. Gazing at me solicitously, his eyes devouring my body lustfully, this servant of the king handed me a small leather pouch containing precious jewels-gifts from his master-and bade me adorn myself with them while he averted his eyes.

Peering inside the bag, amid excited giggles and squeals from my friends, I found rings, bangles and bracelets for my hands, wrists and ankles, a round, smooth opal for my forehead and large, glittering ruby for my flat, tawny belly.

Finally, semi-naked, ravishingly beautiful and burning with desire for sexual fulfilment, I proceeded towards the king's chambers amid low whistles and sharp intakes of breath from all those, young or old, who lined the route.

Arriving at last at a pair of vast double doors, fashioned from fragrant sandalwood and sumptuously carved with scenes of men and women in virtually every permutation of sexual congress, the bodyguard threw them open and, with a small clap of his hands and a lewd wink, indicated to me that I should enter. I quickly went in, averting my eyes from those of my master, and prostrated my young body on the floor, just inside the doors. As I crouched, quivering in anticipation of what was to come, I heard the doors quietly swing shut, leaving me to face the rest of the night alone with this great and powerful man.

After a moment or two a measured, deep voice said: 'Please rise, my little flower. Do not be afraid-I mean you no harm. I spied you this morning in the orange grove, inhaling the scent of a perfect white blossom while the sun illuminated your perfect beauty, and I immediately felt compelled to request the pleasure of your company this evening. Tell me, precious one, have you resided long at the palace?'

Slowly rising to my feet, as steadily as I could and with breasts rising and falling in my flimsy garment like the breast of a small, captive bird, I stood and faced the powerful being who had addressed me-a ruler so mighty he could crush and destroy whole empires on a momentary whim-and found before me a tall, gentle man of immense physical beauty and presence. Deeply suntanned, bearded, with compelling but compassionate black eyes and a deep scar across one cheek, this living legend was, plainly, a man first with a man's needs and desires.

Recognising this fact I began slowly to relax, replying to his questions as best I could in my low, musical voice. 'I was born in the palace, Sire. My mother was a concubine belonging to your father. After many years in his intimate service, because she had pleased him greatly and afforded him so much pleasure, she was graciously permitted to marry his most trusted personal servant, and I was the result of their union. When I was fourteen I, too, joined the royal harem, just as my mother had done before me, and here I am at your request-a faithful and humble girl willing to please you, My Lord, in whatever way you desire…' Lowering my lashes, I raised my hands from my sides and joined them, reverently, before my swelling, bejewelled breasts.

'Your mother must have been an exceptionally beautiful woman to have produced a vision such as yourself,' the king said huskily, his eyes roaming from my sumptuous golden hair to my full, voluptuous breasts, my shapely hips and long, coltish legs, then back again. 'But first,' he said briskly, regaining his composure, 'let us eat!'

He clapped his hands together sharply and four serving girls entered on swift, silent feet, carrying trays of exotic delicacies high on their heads. On reaching the dining area, which was surrounded by soft, bright cushions, they arranged the beaten silver platters containing succulent, spiced meats, fragrant, aromatic rice and ripe fruits in the centre on a profusion of richly embroidered mats. Lighting a number of tall beeswax candles in gleaming pewter candelabrum and pouring measures of heady red wine into two engraved silver goblets, they departed as silently as they'd arrived. As she left the chamber, the last girl turned to me in the wink of an eye and gave me the benefit of a wide but fleeting grin.

'Come,' said the king, taking my slender arm in his large, strong hand and leading me solicitously towards the delicious repast, then bidding me recline on the swansdown-filled cushions before eating and drinking my fill.

As we ate, the king spoke animatedly of his childhood and his father, his friends and enemies, his stately responsibilities and future plans for his great and glorious kingdom. I listened in polite but rapt silence, my eyes taking in the earthy opulence of the chamber with its costly hangings, gleaming treasures and sumptuous animal skins, the whole scented with the smoke from a jewelled incense burner and softly lit by the still, small flames of a thousand candles and the low, orange sun which was setting low in the west and casting a golden glow over all in its path.

Almost swooning with the scent from the incense burner and the effect of the heavy, blood-red wine on my senses, I turned my heavy-lidded eyes towards the man at my side and, momentarily forgetting my servile position within his household, felt an engulfing flood of womanly desire, like treacle, suffuse my gracefully reclining limbs an the base of my warm, golden belly.

Like a big cat, sensing the urgency of my emotions, the king stopped talking and turned towards me, drinking in my musky, erotically charged beauty with his eyes and nostrils, an amused smile playing about his strong, masculine lips. 'Do my eyes deceive me or is it true that I am having such a desirable effect on you, my little dove? My heart tells me you may be ripe for the plucking but first, I desire that you dance for me!'

The king clapped his hands a second time and musician entered the chamber, seating himself on a pile of goat skins in the shadow at the far corner of the chamber. As the sweet, reedy music commenced I rose gracefully to my feet and made my way swiftly to centre-stage where I gazed levelly at the king with shining, lust-filled eyes and soft, parted lips.

Abandonedly tossing my luxuriant mane of blonde hair, I threw back my suntanned shoulders and proudly thrust forward my big, firm breasts, shaking them lewdly and making them jiggle and jounce, causing the sequins and jewels which adorned them to jingle and glitter in the candlelight. The monarch's eyes darkened with desire and he settled back against his pile of cushions, licking his sensuous lips in anticipation of the erotic display to follow.

Never once taking my bold, blue eyes from the master's face I moved my body to the music with sinuous grace, swaying and undulating my lithe torso, shaking my high, spangled bosoms and rotating my slim, womanly hips, causing the glowing, blood-red ruby in my belly to glitter and sparkle.

As the music quickened in pace and became more urgent, I threw off my golden mules and danced with increased passion and abandon, wriggling and gyrating my by now sweat-sheened body and shaking my damp, lustrous hair this way and that so that it whipped about my face like a tangle of shiny serpents.

Suddenly, without any warning, the music came to an end and I collapsed to the floor, my heart pounding and shoulders heaving with the excitement and the exertion of this dance of desire. The king clapped loud and long in appreciation of my display, chuckling low in his throat before saying in a voice shaking with desire: 'I am filled with joy by your dancing abilities, my blonde beauty. Come, experience for yourself the extent to which you have pleased me…'

I raised my bowed head and pushed aside the curtain of damp, pale blonde hair from my glowing cheeks, gazing at him through narrowed, lust-filled eyes streaked with kohl, and licking my generous parted lips in a lascivious manner. In this fashion and on hands and knees I advanced towards the object of my desire, rivulets of sweat snaking between my big breasts which hung suspended like lush, sexy fruits, threatening to burst forth from their flimsy covering with each movement of my body.

Reaching the king, I gazed into his eyes and softly stroked the scar on his cheek and his thick, black beard, making him smile with amusement, before lowering my playful hands to his nether garments, nimbly unfastening them and pulling them open to reveal his erect, throbbing penis to my gaze. Never before had I seen a cock of such immense length and girth. It was truly a prick fit for a king and the sight of it excited me greatly, causing me to tremble and bite my lower lip in wonder, like a little lost girl at her first grownup party.

'Please don't be afraid, little one,' said the king gently. 'You may take as little or as much of me as you desire. There is no joy for me in forcing myself upon you like a ravening beast. I wish only to please you as you have pleased me with your voluptuous body and the look of longing in your eyes. Why not find out for yourself how gentle is the giant between my legs?'

I needed no further encouragement. Lowering my hand to this mighty tool set in its bed of crisp black hair, I softly ran a fingernail from the thick base to the throbbing tip, causing it to convulse momentarily with a life of its own. Smiling delightedly and by now fully immersed in the task in hand, I deftly undid the clasp of my spangled bra, shrugged out of it and flung it aside, proudly displaying to the king the heaving, ample contours of my big, naked breasts with their stiffly erect nipples. Cupping them lewdly I squeezed them together and leaned forward to brush my wayward nipples against the king's bare chest, at the same time brushing my lips against his cheek and playfully wriggling my arse so that my tiny panties slipped down a little further, revealing the topmost wisps of my soft pubic hair and even more of my delicious, dimpled bottom.

Then, gently lowering my upper body so that my almost-bare arse was raised high in the air and my gorgeous tits were suspended directly above the king's massive prick, I rubbed my sensitive nipples back and forth along its full length, sighing with pleasure as sparks of eroticism flashed through my sexually charged body, before swooping down and imprisoning the entire shaft in soft, warm, womanly flesh.

This delightful pose left me in the perfect position to extend my wicked pink tongue and lick and lap at the king's muscular, hairy belly before, at last, falling hungrily upon his magisterial cock. Taking it, inch by inch, into my mouth and snaking my mobile, salivating tongue around its girth, paying particular attention to the gleaming crown, I held it in a firm grip between my lips and rhythmically raised and lowered my tousled head, causing the king to grunt and moan with pure, unalloyed delight. 'Stop, stop!' he cried, trembling with excitement. 'If you carry on in this manner I will shoot my sperm too soon, and that would never do, my shapely princess. Strip naked for me, right now, and I will fuck you as you have never been fucked before!'

With a petulant pout and a lithe whimper of disappointment-I'd so enjoyed the sensation of this wonderful, erect prick in my mouth-I let go of the king's manhood and slowly, sinuously rose to my feet. Cupping my beautiful, gleaming breasts in my delicate hands and absently tweaking my stiff, rosy nipples, my pout quickly turned into a sexy smile which within moments became a naughty giggle of pleasure.

Leaving the rondeurs of my bosoms, my hands slowly traveled the length of my golden body as I lifted my ribcage to further display my tits, and sensually swayed my arse from side to side in time to the sweet music which had once more begun to issue from the shadows in the corner.

Taking hold of my tiny, tight panties, I slowly lowered them over my curvy hips, wriggling my bottom to ease their descent, and let them drop to the floor where I daintily stepped out of them.

Suggestively sucking a delicate finger, I parted my long, coltish legs and insinuated it between the soft folds of my aching womanhood, gently massaging my erect clitoris before sinking it into my warm, dark cunt.

The king could endure this erotic display no longer. Rising to his feet like a giant, horny bear with his prick sticking out in front of him like a veritable flagpole, he ordered me in a trembling whisper to sink to my hands and knees and spread my legs for him.

I quickly did as I was told, opening my legs a far as I could and thrusting my arse into the air, thereby displaying to him my little wrinkled anus and the pink, fleshy lips of my throbbing pussey.

With a cry of delight he threw himself onto his knees behind me and took my hips in his giant, masculine hands before burying his handsome face in my grateful cunt, nuzzling, sniffing and licking whilst issuing a series of soft, satisfied grunts like a veritable beast of the field. Almost swooning with pleasure, I thrilled to the sensation of his big, wet tongue lapping and probing at my sex, hunting out my hot, swollen clitoris and nibbling it gently and insistently until I felt myself about to enter that deep, dark chasm of climactic sexual joy.

Sensing the imminence of my orgasm, the king raised his head, urgently straddled my body and thrust his huge, veiny cock into my welcoming crack. Panting and moaning he pumped his giant prick in and out of my tight, hot cunt, his balls slapping against my naked bum, before filling me with jet upon jet of warm, salty spunk as I, too, reached my longed-for orgasm.

Climax over, his breathing slowed and became more regular and he gratefully lowered his warm, manly lips to kiss the glowing, velvet skin of my back and shoulders. 'Lie down, my darling, and I will stroke you to sleep. Maybe in a while, when we are sufficiently rested, we can make love some more, eh?'

The idea of another bout of abandoned fucking with this beautiful, tender man and his stately cock sent little shivers of anticipation through me all over again. Sleepy and thankful, I stretch my lithe, naked body on the tigerskin rug beneath me, closed my heavy-lidded eyes and gave myself up to his smooth caresses and soothing words of love…

It was at that moment that I woke up. On the point of falling into a delicious slumber in my dream, I awoke in my bed at the Academy to greet a glorious spring morning, filled with birdsong, the scent of fresh flowers and the promise of a myriad earthly pleasures-this time for real!

I snaked my arms above my head in a long stretch, thinking excitedly of Michel and his friend Antoine, and wondering what frolicsome little plans the darling boys had hatched for our mutual delectation, before kicking off the bedclothes and springing to my feet. As naked as the day I was born and baby-pink with sleep – I never wear anything in bed, whether alone or accompanied by a lover-I padded over the window and threw open the curtains to present my luscious young body to the beautiful spring morning.

As I gazed delightedly at the flower-filled garden, a smile illuminating my countenance as surely as the sun shone on the warm grass, my hand strayed in an absent manner to the blonde curls at the base of my belly. Twisting the golden strands around my fingers and gently stroking the soft thatch, I heard a sharp intake of breath and suddenly became aware that someone or something was crouching amongst the foliage in the flower bed beneath my window.

Was it man or beast? Whichever, it was most certainly a voyeur of the lowest and most despicable nature, intent on feasting his eyes (for surely it must be male) on my innocent morning nakedness.

Blushing hotly with embarrassment and surprise I fully raised the sash of my already partly opened window and leaned out, feeling the cool air tease my rosy nipples into little erect buds.

Glancing down, who should I spy but young Pieter the under-gardener, knees firmly planted in the soft earth and sparkling eyes eagerly raised to meet my own. He was flushed and panting with excitement, his stiff throbbing cock straining against the rough fabric of his trousers as he knelt amongst the colourful blooms like a randy young satyr about to pounce on some poor, unsuspecting nymph.

'Why Pieter, it's you!' I whispered loud enough for him to hear but not so loud as to wake the occupants of the adjoining bedchambers. 'How long have you been there, staring upon my nudity in such a brazen manner! I should have you horse-whipped for this, you filthy-minded young cur!'

'Oh please, mademoiselle, have pity on a poor, wretched gardener with a ravening beast between his legs masquerading as an instrument of pleasure! I couldn't help myself, I swear it. When you opened your curtains and I saw you standing there in the window like a beautiful blonde goddess, I knew I ought to avert my eyes and leave immediately, but I was transfixed and my legs turned to jelly so I couldn't move, even had I wanted to… which I didn't! Oh, make a feeble, weak-willed peasant happy and allow me to feast my eyes on you a moment or two longer!'

Pieter! Up to his naughty tricks again, I thought to myself. That boy ought to be an actor. His thespian talents would surely be sufficient to gain him access to even the most prestigious stages of Europe-not to mention the warm, welcoming thighs of bevies of young, panting females.

Of less than average height and slightly but athletically built, the puckish Pieter had flashed his mischievous eyes at any number of my young contemporaries at the Academy. Charmed beyond measure by his honeyed tongue and lithe, bronzed limbs, they'd willingly conceded to him the very flower of their girlish maidenheads. There wasn't a bush or a tree in the whole of this sizable garden which hadn't witnessed scenes of urgent juvenile lust at Pieter's hands, or rung with giggles and shrieks of sweet, wanton pleasure.

I, on the other hand, was only too aware that on this occasion the tables were turned. Pieter of the mobile tongue and ever-open trousers was finally where he deserved to be and should have been from the day he discovered the hungry and feckless serpent at his groin-in the thrall of a beautiful girl who was more than a match for him in terms of lascivious wickedness. Me!

Tossing back my shimmering curls and running my naughty pink tongue over my pouting lips, I gave Pieter a knowing smile and a wink of complicity. Let's see how he deals with this particular little lady, I thought to myself, and immediately began to apply myself to the task of avenging those poor, bleeding hearts of my young friends and colleagues.

Arching my supple spine, I sucked in my breath and thrust out my big, luscious breasts so that they practically dangled from the window, allowing Pieter an excellent view of their generous creamy contours and the deep, secret cleft between them. Taking my juicy raspberry nipples between my fingers, I stroked, tweaked and tickled them until they blushed a deep rose pink and grew stiffly erect.

The warm, liquid honey which, as a result of my ministrations, began to flow through my body from the very tips of my nipples to the seat of my womanhood made me tremble with excitement and my breath quicken. Eyes narrowed with desire and sighing and moaning with pleasure I began to squeeze and knead my firm, fleshy orbs and then, seeing the effect this was having on the unfortunate youth outside, I withdrew my hands from my breasts, planted them on my hips and shook my tits at him through the window in an energetic and thoroughly lewd manner, giggling mischievously at his obvious discomfiture.

Used to lighting fires in the bellies of innocent, unsuspecting young girls before ruthlessly snatching their virtue, Pieter was totally amazed and nonplussed by my blatantly sexy shenanigans at the open window. Unable to control his emotions he'd ripped open his trousers and pulled out his hot, throbbing truncheon, the ruby dome of which was even now bobbing gaily in the morning breeze as, saucer-eyed and panting, he frigged himself frenziedly.

Slowly turning my back to him with a suggestion of demure coyness which little matched my mood, I glanced sexily over my smooth shoulder, winked at him again and blew him a little kiss before flopping forward like some bizarre, erotic toy and rudely waggled my naked arse at him through the window.

Grinning at him between my slim legs, hair like a gleaming blonde curtain which swept the floor at my feet, I saw him become momentarily motionless and his eyes widen still further, before grasping his prick with renewed vigour and pumping it back and forth with his flying fist until I felt sure the pressure within would cause it to explode.

Red-faced and sweating, he begged me in a trembling whisper to descend from my window and relieve him of his misery. But I had other ideas…

Slowly curling upwards with the sinuous grace of a ballerina I was once more upright, though still with my back to him, and I gazed over my shoulder and gave him by best and sexiest smile. Then, parting my long, slender legs and sticking out my delicious arse a little, I was able to afford poor Pieter an even more tantalizing view of my firm, gleaming bum-cheeks and a glimpse of the warm hairy heaven between them which, even as he watched, began to swell darkly and drip with my thick, scented love-juice.

Crouching miserably in the undergrowth with his naked cock hot and throbbing for want of a good, horny fuck with the object of his desire, Pieter began to whimper and whine at this latest rude display.

I suddenly found myself feeling sorry for the poor, helpless youth and was within an Ace of inviting him in through the open window to fuck my cunt in the way nature intended and he so obviously craved but, in order to dispel such philanthropic thoughts, I quickly brought to mind the pitiful looks on the faces of the lovelorn young girls who'd lost their innocence and their hearts to this thoughtless Lothario with his smooth tongue and wayward prick. My expression hardened once more at the thought, but not for long…

Insinuating a slim finger between the outer folds of my swollen pussey, I found my little pink clitoris and began to gently stroke and massage it until, swaying sensually from side to side and moaning and panting with pleasure, I nearly swooned with delight at the liquid fire which swept through my sex-flushed body.

Oblivious now to the voyeur beneath my window, I plunged three eager fingers deep into the dark recesses of my cunt, stroking and tickling the smooth, velvet walls as I simultaneously rubbed my erect clitoris, giving myself up to the intense orgasmic spasms which wracked my smooth young torso.

Moments later, pleased and triumphant at having reached my orgasm in so pleasing a manner, I turned to face my audience of one and was a little dismayed (though secretly as pleased as Punch) at the sight which eventually greeted me. It took me a second or two to locate Pieter, so silent and motionless was he as he lay prone amongst the primulas, a little last dribble of spunk oozing from the tip of his limp, lifeless tool.

'Why Pieter,' I hissed through the open window, 'I've never seen you in such a pickle. So dejected and woebegone and full of remorse. Just wait until I tell the other girls! Now, straighten your clothing and be off with you before I scream and wake the whole house. And don't let me catch you peeping at me in such a despicable manner again. Or any other girl for that matter!

Jumping to his feet and stuffing his soft little dick into his trousers, Pieter barely looked at me as, red-faced and ashamed, he muttered an unintelligible apology before shuffling off in a crab-like fashion to another part of the garden in order to reflect on his misdemeanours, past, present and future.

As soon as the wretched youth was out of sight I clapped my hands together in delight and laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks. 'Well, that took the wind out of the young rascal's sails,' I said to myself. 'It's about time boys learned that we girls don't always need stiff pricks to play with in order to have fun. Naughty thoughts and even naughtier fingers will do very nicely, thank you, when a girl feels that familiar little tingle in her pussey and has a mind to tickle her fancy!'

With that, I crossed swiftly to the closet in order to choose a suitable outfit for this day of days, filled as it was with erotic promise of the most exciting and compelling kind. I must choose quickly and with care, for this was the morning of my picnic with Michel Dupont and his companion, and I had not a-moment to lose for it was already 8.45 a.m., I had agreed to meet the boys at 12.00 noon, and I had two hours of history prep to catch up on before I could escape to the little pier where he kept his boat, fresh-faced and pussied, sweetly perfumed and ready for fun!

Impatiently pulling the gowns this way and that in my search, a little frown of concentration creasing my pretty brow, I secretly thrilled to the sensual feel of slippery satin, petal-soft silk and crisp white lace beneath my fingers.

Then, with a sigh of relief and pleasure, I found the ideal garment in which to enjoy a companionable lunch in the open air amongst friends, followed by fun and frolics in the afternoon sunshine-a floor-length fine-cotton gown of cornflower blue, trimmed with wide, creamy lace and topped with a tightly fitted, lowcut bodice which revealed a daring quantity of peachy bosom and my tiny, cinched-in waist which was the envy of all but a few of the other girls as well as a good many of the tutors.

Pulling it from its hanger and tossing it on the bed, I first of all slipped into my snowy-white undergarments-a semi-transparent camisole fashioned from the softest and sheerest Swiss lawn, trimmed with lace and blue satin bows, through which the generous contours of my big breasts with their luscious nipples were plainly visible; a pair of little matching panties which, cut from the same sheer fabric as the camisole, showed my curvy bottom and the soft blonde triangle of my pussey hair and finally a pair of silky white stockings held up by frilly blue satin garters.

Checking my reflection in the looking-glass and turning this way and that, it occurred to me what a great pity it was that I was forced to conceal this delightful confection by wearing a dress over the top of it all. Wouldn't the boys just love it if I were to trip gaily down to the beach clad only in soft lace and sexy stockings, tits bouncing and bottom jiggling for all to see! But no matter, I felt sure that within a matter of an hour or so I'd be forced by the heat of the day, the situation and my emotions to remove my outer garments for the mutual delectation of the assembled group, and anyone else who may be around at the time.

Thus comforted, I swiftly donned my cornflower dress, wriggling a little and adjusting my full breasts in their tight bodice in order to show off my cleavage to its best advantage. Brushing my long hair a hundred times to make it shine like golden silk, I quickly ran downstairs for breakfast in the girls' dining-room before gathering up my history prep and heading for the library for a morning spent in the dubious company of Thomas Robespierre and the French Revolution.

And there I stayed until, at 12.00 sharp, I heard the big grandfather clock in the hall chime the hour and realised with a little thrill of panic that Nicole (for it was she who would be accompanying me and completing the happy foursome) and I were most likely going to be a little late for our liaison. But it is, I thought to myself, always has been and always will be a girl's prerogative to keep a man waiting. And, what's more, I felt sure their annoyance would be short-lived when they finally caught sight of the two of us girls, blonde and brunette, excited and eager and pretty as pictures in our summery clothes.

Nicole and I had agreed to meet by the front door of the Academy so, having quickly returned my books and papers to my room and, bright-eyed with anticipation, checked my appearance once again in the mirror above my dressing table, licking my lips to make them gleam and gently tugging down my bodice still further to show even more of my generous curves, I hurried to the designated spot and almost ran straight into her in my haste.

'Mon Dieu!' she cried in alarm, 'Where have you been, you naughty girl? Did you not notice the time? I've been waiting here for you for at least ten minutes… with a rumbling tummy and damp pussey!' she added under her breath with a salacious grin, so I knew she wasn't as angry as I'd first thought.

'Have patience, Nicole. The longer they wait the more the boys will appreciate us when we arrive. They'll be altogether keener and their appetites sharper if they're left to cool their heels for a minute or two, don't you think? Anyway, what are you afraid of? Do you think they'll leave without us?'

'Mais oui cherie, of course you're right as always. Come, let's go before we waste any more time!'

Grabbing my hand in hers Nicole raced me down the steps and, picking up our skirts, we ran together across the garden until we arrived at the little beach and the jetty with the pretty boat moored alongside.

And there they stood waiting for us, Michel and Antoine, two of the handsomest boys we could care to spend this beautiful afternoon with, and neither of them in the least bit annoyed at our lateness. Michel advanced towards me and gallantly raised my hand to his lips, his eyes straying from my hair, to my lips, to my heaving, sexily exposed breasts, where they lingered wickedly before settling once more on my face and returning my warm smile. I noticed that Nicole and Antoine were exchanging greetings in a similar manner, Antoine's amused grey eyes showing every sign of enjoying the sight of the raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty who stood before him.

As well he might. Seldom had I seem my Gallic friend looking quite so alluring or, indeed, quite so openly provocative as she did this day. Dressed in rose-pink silk, which beautifully complemented her warm olive complexion, her long straight hair hung like a heavy, gleaming, blue-black curtain over her shoulders and down her back, almost to her bottom. Her perfect, finely chiselled features possessed an aristocratic, slightly haughty but undeniably voluptuous grace and her sensual, curvy lips were lush and inviting. She was studying Antoine approvingly, her blue eyes twinkling and the tawny half-moons of her semi-revealed breasts rising and falling in a most exciting and stimulating manner.

Or so the aforementioned youth obviously thought, for when I glanced at his crotch (a little habit of mine-I invariably find my eyes wandering to that most appealing of bulges whenever I'm lucky enough to be introduced to a man or boy not previously of my acquaintance), I was delighted to observe that it was swelling and becoming increasingly turgid before my interested gaze.

Nicole had noticed, too (she was a girl who obviously shared my predilection for cock-watching), and I saw her stifle a little giggle of merriment behind her hand before gazing once more in a thoroughly knowing fashion into the already infatuated young man's eyes.

The afternoon is looking promising, I thought to myself as I witnessed these events. Very, very promising indeed…

Michel took my slender arm in his and Antoine took Nicole's, then together we sauntered slowly and companionably towards the little boat.

'Rosie, cherie, I am so glad you were able to join us today for our little picnic, especially accompanied as you are by such a delightful companion-tres, tres jolie…' Michel glanced longingly at Nicole for a moment or two over his shoulder, and I was forced to give his arm a little tug in order to remind him of whom he'd first invited to join him for lunch.

Not that I really minded in the least. I'd already exchanged a burning, conspiratorial glance or two with the sexy Antoine, and my fevered feminine imagination was already toying with the notion of entertaining his randy prick in one way or another, possibly with the help of the luscious Nicole, or maybe Michel, or even both together… The possibilities were endless, but I swiftly returned my thoughts to the present and began once more to concentrate on making the very most of the here and now-yet another, even more appealing habit of mine!

'May I say how very glad I am to meet you, Mademoiselle Rosie,' said the supremely courteous Antoine in a low, heavily accented and decidedly appealing voice. I am sure we are to become close friends, non?' I certainly hoped so. The closer the better!

When we reached the boat, the boys helped us climb and made sure we were settled in our seats before Michel untied the rope, casting us off from the jetty, took hold of the oars and began to row with strong, even strokes. Very soon, settling myself against the pile of soft cushions which Michel had thoughtfully provided for our comfort, I felt my eyelids droop and was aware only of the soft, rhythmic splash of the oars, the golden sparks of sunlight which tipped each tiny ripple on the water, and the low murmur of voices, punctuated by gentle laughter as Nicole, Michel and Antoine became better acquainted.

I must finally have been lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat-fatigued, no doubt, by the machinations of Thomas Robespierre and his ilk which had filled my thoughts and my notebook that morning in the library-for I was suddenly aware of a soft hand shaking my arm and an insistent voice forcing me into wakefulness.

'What is it? Where are we?'

'Rosie, wake up! You've been asleep for over an hour, you lazy creature! We're back at the beach and the boys are preparing our picnic. Come, let's not keep them waiting. I'm famished and besides, I have a little plan. Listen, I'll tell you about it…'

I slowly sat up, yawning and stretching, and leaned closer to my friend in order to hear whatever scheme it was she'd concocted as entertainment for our hosts and ourselves.

When she'd finished, a little look of expectation on her face as though anxious for my reaction, I sat quite still, bolt upright and face expressionless, watching her anxiety turn to disappointment and her soft lips turn down at the corners in a petulant pout. Then I flopped back against my pile of cushions and grinned wickedly, pleased by my little joke and delighted at the prospect of turning Nicole's deliriously saucy scheme into reality.

Nicole grinned back at me and gave a little sigh of exasperation, before urging me to my feet and insisting that I pull myself together so that we might join our Gallic hosts and avail ourselves forthwith of the sumptuous outdoor feast provided for our benefit-to be followed, no doubt, by sensual delights of a very different but no less appealing kind.

What a splendid sight greeted us when we reached the warm, sun-dappled spot where our new friends had chosen to share their feast with us. Smoked ham, a whole cooked lobster, potted meats, aromatic cheeses, succulent spring vegetables and freshly baked crusty bread, accompanied by a bottle or two (or three!) of excellent Bordeaux. But first, Champagne!

Michel took four tall glasses from the basket beside him and filled them to the brim with the cool, sparkling, pale-gold nectar which bubbled and flashed in the sunlight. Handing us a glass each he leant back on the soft rug and took a well-deserved sip, peering at me through narrowed, appraising eyes.

Gazing back at him I too raised a flashing glass to my lips and took a long, cool draught of the energising drink, giggling gently as the fizzy bubbles tickled my lips and nose, and thrilled by the warm, sensual languor which quickly suffused my shapely limbs.

Before long I noticed that Nicole, too, was in a state of effervescence as a direct result of the sparkling wine, and it was merely a matter of moments before she winked at me wickedly, thus indicating that we should carry out the first part of our plan.

Flicking her shiny, liquorice hair back over her shoulders she turned to face the boys, at the same time delivering a knowing grin in my direction, and swiftly undid the front of her silk bodice. Michel's and Antoine's startled eyes nearly popped out of their heads as Nicole's pretty, olive-skinned tits popped out of her dress, jiggling sexily. The memory of these darling, girlish breasts with their large, port-wine nipples immediately came flooding back into my consciousness, and I felt my horny pussey dampen as I recalled the feel of her hard berry nipples between my full lips and against my eager tongue.

With a theatrical flourish, chin held high with pride, the beautiful young mademoiselle stood up and, as she did so, her dress fell to her dainty feet with a seductive rustle of heavy silk. Completely and utterly naked, body gleaming in the sunlight, the slim, sexy creature turned this way and that, posing for us like a randy mannequin and displaying her smooth brown legs, pert boyish bottom, slender waist and high, pointed breasts from every angle for all to see.

Amid excited gasps and low whistles of approval from the boys, Nicole laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet and rapidly undoing the fastenings on my own, cornflower-blue bodice. As my dress fell to the ground, revealing my voluptuous body dressed in semi-transparent, beribboned undergarments and silky stockings, big creamy breasts and curvy bottom all but completely visible, Antoine fell back against the rug beneath him, staring at us both, saucer-eyed, and exclaimed in a choked whisper: 'Mon Dieu! What's happening to me? Have I died and gone to heaven? Tell me this is not a dream and that it's really happening. Please…'

Thrilled by the boys' delighted and positive response to our little erotic entertainment, I slowly and sensually stripped naked for them, baring my big, peachy tits and luscious arse and pussey to the world, loving the feel of the gentle breeze against my nude skin and breathing in the wonderful, undeniable odour of arousal which surrounded all four of us, suffusing this warm afternoon with sexual magic.

Kissing my friend lightly on the tip of her aristocratic nose, I ran with her, hand in hand, to the water's edge where we laughed and chattered, dancing like happy children in the clear sparkling lake, totally oblivious to everything but our own sense of innocent fun and wonder at this beautiful, God-given day.

Silent, wide-eyed and utterly shell-shocked, Michel and Antoine watched us from their vantage point on the plaid rug-like two hunting stoats, fascinated by a pair of alluring, frolicsome rabbits.

After ten or fifteen minutes in the water, Nicole and I made our way back to the rug, pink-cheeked, sparkling-eyed and thoroughly ravenous after our exertions. A million jewel-clear drops clung to our lithe, naked bodies and we shook ourselves like naughty puppies all over the reclining young men, eliciting howls of laughter and mock protest, before flopping down on the rug and rubbing our wet hair with the fluffy white towels which had thoughtfully been provided by our hosts – no doubt in the event of a possible unexpected tumble in the lake whilst out rowing, or maybe a quick, post-prandial dip.

By now the spell had been broken and all four of us were laughing and joking with infectious animation, enjoying the delicious food with vim and gusto and steadily polishing off first one, then two bottles of the soft but deceptively powerful red wine.

All the while, despite our noisy alacrity and high spirits, Nicole and I were more than ever aware of our voluptuous nakedness in the presence of these two, horny young men with their burning eyes and stiff, lusty pricks. Never once did their eyes leave our bodies and, once or twice, cool male fingers chanced to brush against our warm, sun-burnished skin, causing little ripples and thrills of pleasure and anticipation to pulse through our soft breasts and warm thighs.

'And now, my darlings,' said the handsome Michel, rising to his feet and lazily unfastening a shirt cuff, 'I feel it is we men who should return the delightful compliment you have paid us by shedding your clothes and displaying your beautiful nakedness for our delectation. Come, Antoine, let us disrobe…'

Transfixed, Nicole and I watched as these two gorgeous boys in the very prime of life and positively oozing male potency and sexuality, elegantly and with great aplomb divested themselves of their restrictive manly garb until they finally stood naked before us, side by side like a pair of randy stallions with erect, purple-domed cocks standing high and proud against their flat, muscular bellies.

Purring with sensual pleasure, Nicole and I smiled at each other and advanced together on all fours towards our delicious, succulent quarry. When we reached the boys we each in our own special way and with our own individual and inimitable style, began to gently stroke and caress the pulsing pricks of our respective partners-Nicole had chosen to pleasure Michel and I, Antoine.

The boys gently cajoled and encouraged us as we acquainted ourselves with their beautiful cocks and then, at a sign from Nicole, we both lowered our pretty faces, clasped hold of the boys' bare bums for support, parted our lips and took their majestic tools in our mouths. We licked and sucked and nibbled until we tasted the first few drops of pre-ejaculatory spend on our tongues-a flavoursome experience I can thoroughly and wholeheartedly recommend-then we swiftly swapped partners and I sucked Michel's prick and Nicole sucked Antoine's.

The darling boys were delighted by our little change-around and they shouted and moaned with erotic pleasure, becoming more than ever agitated and dangerously close, I felt, to shooting their salty sperm into our mouths instead of into our hot and yearning cunts-which of course would never do!

So in order to avoid the aforementioned-which would be premature in the extreme and guaranteed to leave us girls high and dry in so far as sexual gratification was concerned-we quickly uncocked.

Turning to face each other, Nicole and I slowly and gracefully fell into each other's arms, softly stroking and nuzzling and cooing little endearments and words of love, pressing our tits together and rubbing our stiff nipples against the other's warm, receptive flesh.

As our lips met and opened and we lost ourselves in deep, passionate kisses, our tongues entwining and probing the deepest recesses of each other's mouths, my fingers reached out and stroked and tickled Nicole's warm pussey.

Nicole, in turn, began to manipulate my yearning womanhood, her gentle finger running back and forth along the length of my juicy slit, softly massaging my little pink clitoris until I felt I'd die from the pleasure of it. And then I felt my climax approach and gave myself up to wave upon wave of erotic abandonment, panting and tossing my blonde head this way and that in ecstasy.

Temporarily sated, I gently pushed the smiling Nicole back on to the rug, parted her incredibly long legs and buried my golden head into her raven-haired muff, which was hot and fragrant with her musky love-juice. As I lapped and sucked at her aromatic cunt I felt her sigh and tremble, her breath catching in little ragged gasps of pleasure.

And then I became aware that events were taking another, not altogether unexpected, turn. Strong male hands took hold of my womanly, upraised hips and a rampant, throbbing prick nudged urgently at the opening of my swollen cunt-which must have been enticingly visible for quite some time with my legs parted and my arse thrust proudly in the air as it was.

Suddenly, as if convinced of his directorial accuracy, Michel or Antoine-for I did not as yet know to whom the cock belonged-gave a tremendous thrust and sheathed himself fully in my tight pussey, before holding tight to my bum and pumping back and forth with enviable speed and athleticism, and no small amount of panting and moaning.

Simultaneously, on opening her mouth to take a breath, Nicole became the proud recipient of another, no less desperate weapon, and found herself licking and sucking anew on this big, manly cock which began to fuck her mouth with passion, but also with great sensitivity in order not to overcome the poor girl with its splendid length and girth.

This glorious quadruple fuck drove all four of us to the very pinnacles of earthly delight and we all-Nicole, Michel, Antoine and myself-reached our respective climaxes within seconds of each other, shooting and oozing our sex emissions into each other's welcoming mouths and cunts.

After a while we all four collapsed in a warm, satisfied, lazy heap on the sandy rug and were in danger of dropping off to sleep, until the two boys yawned, stretched and jumped up, pulling us with them, and we all rushed headlong into the sparkling water where, in the manner of lusty young people everywhere, we laughed, swam, splashed each other's naked bodies and sported like a family of happy seals.

Some time later, companionably dripping, we returned to the rug and stretched out in the sun in order to dry ourselves before getting dressed and returning to the Academy. It was as I lay there in that wonderful state that lies between sleep and wakefulness, as naked as the day I was born and more than ever aware of the feel of God's fertile earth beneath me and the sensation of the sun and the water against my skin, my mind began to wander and I found myself recalling a delightful and rustic experience I'd enjoyed a few years previously.

Convinced that my friends would take pleasure in sharing with me my delicious reverie, I began to tell them of it.

'I had been staying on my uncle's farm in Dorsetshire,' I said. 'It was harvest-time, and all the able hands from miles around were busy at work in the fields. Each day my cousin Primrose and I would stroll about the countryside, and we would often pause to watch the time-honoured rituals of harvesting, threshing and haymaking.

'At this time of year, the labourers' whole families would come out to the fields to work alongside their menfolk. Even little children of five or six could be seen, busily carrying a few handfuls of hay to the stacks, an expression of earnestness about their angelic little faces.

'Primrose introduced me to some of the families that she knew from the village. There was Old Mother Moule, famed far and wide for her skills at mending. Her gnarled old fingers were now busily engaged with baling twine, and it was extraordinary to see how deftly she could gather up a sheaf of straw and tie it round. Then there was Mrs. Knight, the laundrywoman, who had exchanged the old brass boiler of her daily trade for the scythe, while her children scampered and squabbled about her feet.

'In another field that day we met young Nick, the son of old Cave the farrier. He was a fine young man of sixteen or seventeen, tall for his years and with rich dark eyes. It was the dinner-hour, and he rose to greet us from the shade of an old blackthorn where he lay sheltering from the noonday heat of the sun.

'“'Tis fine weather for the harvest indeed,” he said in answer to our polite observations.

'“Is it going well this year?” asked Primrose.'

'“Very well indeed, so as I gather.”

'“And will you be looking forward to the harvest supper?” I asked, knowing that this was as great a highlight in the countryman's calendar as was Christmas in our own.

'Before Nick could reply, Primrose clapped a guilty hand to her mouth.

'“My goodness,” she exclaimed, anxiety strong in her voice. “I had quite forgotten! I was supposed to go with mother to make arrangements with the minister about the flowers for the harvest festival. What time is it, Rosie?”

'I took my watch from my bosom. It was nearly twenty minutes after twelve.

'“Then I must fly,” cried Primrose. “The Reverend Stitchum is a most punctilious man, and mother will be most annoyed.”

'I rose to my feet, but Primrose demurred.

'“No need for you to come, my dear friend,” she averred. “I'll go by the long pasture here, which will take me to the church gate by half-past. You can walk back to the house the way we came. Even half an hour in the company of the Reverend Stitchum,” she whispered to me, “is a penance to deter the most wicked sinner. It is a punishment I could scarcely wish on my dearest cousin. Better that you shall linger awhile with young Nick here.” And with that she tripped away across the field.

'Nick looked discomfited, perhaps embarrassed at being alone in the company of a young lady, but I quickly put the farrier's son at his ease. We talked of this and that, of life in the village and his hopes that he might in time make his way in the horse-trade for, though so young, he had already shown considerable acumen in that respect. He had found two splendid Clydesdales going cheaply at a farm some ten miles away which Uncle had subsequently purchased, his recommendation being rewarded by two equally handsome sovereigns.

'Like many countrymen, Nick showed great facility with animals. But while many of his contemporaries were interested solely in those which they might trap or hunt, he loved them for their own sake.

'I was about to be going, but Nick said he would show me something. “It's only over here, behind old Moss's barn,” he said. “The lane takes you out past the big house in any case.”

'We walked through the copse and I noticed how firm and strong his hand was as he helped me over the little tinkling stream that ran through it.

'“Here,” he said, as we approached the old barn. He pointed to a rusty piece of farm machinery, long disused and partly covered with a tarpaulin.

'“How interesting,” I murmured, wondering what he possibly thought I would find so fascinating about Messrs Ransome and Rapier's Patented “Ipswich” Seed Drill.

'He must have noticed my momentarily quizzical expression, for he laughed and drew me closer. Again I noticed the firmness of his hand on my arm.

'“No, underneath,” he said, speaking in a husky whisper which I found by no means unattractive.

'I peered past his pointing finger and there, in the gloomy cavern revealed by pulling back the tarpaulin, I saw what he had brought me to see. A fine tabby cat, around whom four delightful kittens were happily playing.

'“Oh how sweet!” I exclaimed. “Look at the little black one, with his white feet. And the ginger one-I bet he grows into a real bruiser!”

'“This one's my favourite,” said Nick, and picked up a tabby that was the image of her mother. He stroked her gently while the mother looked on anxiously. “Don't you worry, Mrs. Tibbies,” he said. “Young Rosie here won't come to no harm.”

'“Rosie?” I cried. “Why, that's my name! What a coincidence!”

'Nick laughed. “Not really,” he said. “I named her for you. I found the cat had had kittens here the day you came to stay with your uncle. I heard you was called Miss Rosie, see. Hope you don't mind me being so familiar as to borrow your name, Miss Rosie. Only it strikes me as such a pretty one.”

'I laughed, not minding at all, and stroked the kitten that had become my namesake. Mrs. Tibbies began to show signs of annoyance, so we quickly restored her brood to full muster and quietly made our retreat.

'“Why name her after me?” I murmured as Nick replaced the tarpaulin.

'Nick blushed hotly. “Well,” he stumbled, “'cause I thought you were a real lady and she was too. And she's a bonny little thing, and so are you, if you don't mind me saying.”

'“Of course not!” I tinkled. “Every woman likes to be flattered, especially by a handsome young man like yourself, Nick.”

'I don't know quite how it happened, but we had been standing there for some moments, not knowing quite what to say, and then all of a sudden we were in each other's arms. Our lips met in a long, smouldering kiss.

'As my tongue probed his I felt strong, sensitive hands grasping my bottom cheeks. I pressed myself hard against him, feeling the steady stirring of his manhood through my summer dress.

'We broke for breath, and then once more we embraced passionately. I nibbled his ear, his neck. His hands seemed everywhere at once, caressing my arms, my thighs, my breasts.

'“Oh sir,” I exclaimed, more for form's sake than from any genuine desire that he should desist.

'“Oh how I've loved you,” cried Nick, his voice passionate with entreaty. “Right from the first moment I saw you I've felt drawn to you. And yet you always seemed so remote, so untouchable. You being from such a grand family an' all.”

'“Oh fiddlesticks,” I retorted. “My father was an ordinary farmer, not half so grand as my uncle. His family held no higher social station than your own, my dear Nick. And not half the gentlemen I've met since then in society have had half your sensitivity.”

'I kissed him again, full on the lips this time.

'“Come,” he said pushing me towards the open door of old Moss's barn. Our lips were firmly glued together, and I surrendered to his judgement implicitly, as though he were my partner leading me backwards across a crowded ballroom.

'There was a squawk-he had unknowingly trodden on Mrs. Tiddles' tail-and we toppled over backwards on to a bed of fresh straw, laughing.

'I felt his hand busy with the buttons at the front of my dress, and I did nothing to stop him. My naked titties were quickly exposed to view. He pulled back to look at them, and I heard him gasp.

'“Why, them's a wondrous pair,” he gulped at last. “Ain't 'em just.”

'“You like my bosoms then?” I asked coyly from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

'“'Em's lovely,” he said, and he buried his face in the deep cleft between my bosom. My nipples, as I could see, had perked up like organ-stops, and they seemed to fascinate him. I caressed them playfully.

'“Lick them, Nick,” I whispered on impulse.

'“Lick 'em?”

'“That's right. Lick them.'

'“What?” he said, his eyes wide with wonder. “You're asking me to lick your nippy ends?”

'“That's right.”

'“Lumme! Ain't you a dirty girl then! I never heard a girl ask me to do anythin' like that.”

'Such a sweet, innocent boy! But he sucked my titties as well as any man I have known, and then I stood up, and shed my dress, and he pulled of his trousers, and I could see he had a most wonderful winkie there, straight as a ramrod and seemingly bursting with youthful vigour. Instantly I took a letch to have it in my mouth there and then.

'“Come on, Nick,” I said, dropping to my knees. “Give me a taste of what's in store!”

'He seemed scarcely to know what I had in mind. But when I knelt there before him, and took hold of that fine manly cock of his, and licked around the purple tip, and then took it deep within my mouth, I could hear him audibly gasp out his pleasure.

'“Ah! Oho!' I heard him cry. ''Tis too much. No one never done that to me before.”

'I rolled my tongue around his cock, and tasted the sweet salt taste, and sucked him hard and deep. When I could sense that soon he would be able to hold back no longer, I ceased my lecherous labours.

'“Did you like that?” I asked breathily.

'“I love it,” he cried, almost jumping up and down in his excitement. “That's what they say the French whores do, but I never thought afore now that folks really do it.”

'“Oh yes they do, Nick. Lots of nice ladies do it, and they greatly enjoy doing it too.”

'“Then I'll show you what I can do,” he cried, and pushed me over backwards on to the straw. We both fumbled with my underskirts and then master Priapus was knocking at the door of my temple, begging for admission. I was in no mood to refuse him entry!

'In a trice his fine youthful cock was buried in me up to the hilt. Oh! How he fucked me that hot summer afternoon. In and out went his rampant charger, and how my bottom bounded up to meet his every thrust. His prick seemed to grow bigger by the second, until I seemed entirely filled by it, and about to burst.

'For one so young he was a lover of remarkable skill and tenderness. His spunk burst into me exactly at the instant I spent myself, and we rolled over and over in the hay until he uncunted.

'For several minutes we lay there in each other's arms, moist with the exertion and panting for breath. Suddenly from the distant fields came a whistle.

'“Stap me!” he cried. '“What time is it? They're ready to start up again after dinner.”

'I fumbled for my watch.

'“It's nearly one, Nick,” I said.

'“Then I must be gone. Sorry, my dear, 'tis hardly fan-to leave you like this. How I wish with all my heart I could stay with you all the afternoon long. But I have work to do, and I'll be getting in trouble if I let the others down.”

'I laughed. “Not at all, dear Nick. I do understand, and I would fain be the one to get you into trouble. Here, give me a kiss, and then begone.”

'He kissed me one last time, long and deep.

'“Shall I see you again, dear Rosie?” he said.

'“Yes indeed,” said I. “I shall be here again tomorrow. We shall pay our compliments to Mrs. Tiddles and her little pussies, and you can pay your compliments to mine.”

'I swear that, as he went, he blushed quite scarlet at my words. Country girls, as he told me later, do not speak so, nor are they much advanced in the ways of making love. Lads neither, he added ruefully. I assured him that that was not how I judged him but, before the week was out and it was time for me to return to the bosom of my family, he had become a true carnal gourmet. In old Moss's barn, every dinner-time, we were transported for an hour into an altogether new realm of the senses. He fucked me from on top, from behind, with me sitting astride him. I sucked his prick and took his libation in my mouth I taught him how to lick my cunt and bring me to a spend with his tongue. Once, when we were feeling particularly randy, I took his prick in my bottom-hole. But all good things must come to an end, and it was with parting's sweet sorrow that we finally took our leave of each other, with many murmured endearments and the promise that, at Christmastide, I would be back a my uncle's farm, and with me would bring a very special present for us both to share. But that, my dear friends, must be another story.'

'Bravo!' cheered Michel. 'That was, indeed, a charming story. How I wish there were time for us to practise some of those naughty tricks you demonstrated for that fortunate young boy! But now I fear it is getting late and we must return to the Academy at once, for I promised Maman I would take tea with her this afternoon.

Madame Dupont was undeniably fond of indulging in this peculiarly English habit and did so on the slightest pretext. I believed, secretly, that it was the hot buttered toast and delicious, sugary confections that went with it rather than the beverage itself which appealed to her expansive and expanding nature!

'Come, dear ladies, Antoine and I will be delighted to help you back into your gowns as soon as we are dressed ourselves.'

Michel was as good as his word and within a few minutes the four of us, arm in arm, were strolling back through the garden with the mid-afternoon sun slanting down on us through the trees and making dappled patterns on the soft, springy grass.

As we parted company from our new friends, smiling warmly and kissing each glowing cheek in turn in true French fashion, we promised to meet again soon in order to renew our relationship and share a further hour or two of companionable eroticism in the open air.

A day or two later, on entering the senior girls' study I was assailed by much excited laughter punctuated by a quantity of low, throaty, though undeniably feminine guffaws. What could have precipitated such earthy hilarity in this, a traditionally serene and tranquil chamber?

In the centre of the room, seated comfortably on a low, brocade sofa, sat an attractive and buxom lady of advancing years with twinkling brown eyes and an obviously merry disposition. She wore a peacock-blue gown of shot silk, generously boned and corseted in order to tame and hold at bay her ample bosom and rounded, womanly curves, and an elegant little hat with a long, black ostrich feather set at a jaunty angle atop her golden-blonde curls.

She was surrounded by ten or twelve of my classmates who, seated on adjoining chairs, on the floor or on each other's laps, were gazing at her delightedly with the sort of rapt attention rarely afforded to the Academy's more formal tutors.

As I entered the room she looked up and gave me a warm, inviting smile, gesturing for me to sit down. 'Good afternoon, my dear. I expect you're wondering who on earth I am-this middle-aged thorn between so many beautiful roses! Well, let me explain. I am Mrs. Horwill, mother of Jane Horwill who I am sure you must know since she has been a student here at the Academy for over a year now.'

Indeed, I did know Jane Horwill, but I'd scarcely been tempted to further our acquaintance since she seemed to me to be the plainest, most unenviably tedious creature to whom I'd ever had the misfortune to be introduced. That this voluptuous, twinkling creature was her mother was almost beyond my comprehension, although it is a commonly held belief, and I certainly believe it to be true, that sparkling, elegant mothers have a habit of overshadowing their poor, unfortunate offspring-most especially the female offspring-imbuing them with a dowdiness made even more apparent when parent and child are viewed simultaneously. However, I digress.

'I have taken the opportunity of accompanying my dear husband, who has business here in Switzerland, in order to visit my daughter's school. Alas, poor little Jane is at present employed in a period of extra French with Mademoiselle Cartier, so I am entertaining some of your friends here with a few little stories and anecdotes. I do hope we won't be disturbing you. Do please join us if you have a minute or two to spare.'

With that, Mrs. Horwill settled back against the firmly stuffed sofa and arranged her equally firmly stuffed gown around her knees, raising it up slightly in the front in order to facilitate the crossing of her surprisingly slim ankles and displaying her dainty little feet in their fashionable black button-boots.

Unable to resist the promise of a story (hopefully a naughty one, I thought wickedly!), I seated myself on a little footstool beside the sofa and prepared to listen. I was not, you'll be delighted to learn, in the least bit disappointed by what I heard.

Mrs. Horwill cleared her throat and began:

'I had been invited to send a few days at the Somerset estate of Lord Somerville,' said Mrs. Horwill at length. 'Of course, I had quite a shrewd idea of what that might entail. Lord Somerville was famous for the recherche eroticisms which formed a daily part of the amusements for those lucky enough to he entertained at his country seat. There were games, competitions, activities outre enough to enliven even the most jaded palate. In particular, I was anxious to see the famous “Nuditorium” which he had established there, and whose splendid facilities were, I gather, the talk of every gentleman's club the length of Pall Mall. My husband had frequently spoken of it – indeed, he had even suggested that, were his extensive shareholdings in the Bolivian tin-mining industry ever to bear as rich a fruit in dividends as he hoped he might realise from them, he might very well care to consider something of the sort at our own Yorkshire home.

'We arrived at the house in the late part of as splendid a summer's afternoon as one could have wished, for. The house was perhaps slightly more modern than I had expected-built no later than the middle of the last century, according to his Lordship-but it was nevertheless a fine and foursquare edifice in the local stone, with some sixteen bedrooms and no less than two bathrooms. Downstairs, as well as a magnificent dining room and a ballroom that entirely equalled it in splendour, was the former salon that Lord Somerville had, with commendable speed, converted into his “Nuditorium” almost as soon as he had succeeded to the title. We were soon to enjoy its facilities.

'So hot was the afternoon that, as soon as we were shown to our room, I felt obliged to remove most of my clothing. I lay down on the bed in my drawers alone, practically panting from the heat, sipping occasionally from a glass of iced water. A cooling breeze blew in from the window, fanning the curtains that stirred lazily in the warm gusts. Idly I ran the frosted glass from which I drank against my bared bosom, and anointed my pert rose-bud nipples with drops of cool crystal. They sprang up immediately as if in salute.

'At this point my husband returned from the lavatory. “Now there's a sight to give a chap a bump in his trousers the size and shape of a Howitzer!” he exclaimed at once.

'“You still enjoy the sight of my bosoms, even after all these years?” I enquired of him, playfully cupping and squeezing my breasts and rolling my head from side to side, my tongue flicking my lips. “Come then, you must suck them for me. Take off your trousers so I can play with that fine cock of yours as you do so!”

'In a trice he was at my side, and his head buried between my smooth ivory mounds. He licked playfully at each nipple in turn, and then sucked deeply. Next, as I rubbed his cock, he drew in a mouthful of the firm flesh, and then another, until I felt he might actually swallow an entire breast.

'“Shall I spend over your titties, my dear?” he enquired of me, polite but urgent. “Though last night I swear you all but emptied me of a month's reserve of spunk, our long journey seems to have been a most wonderful restorative. Perhaps it was the jerking and lurching of the carriage. As it is, already my balls fairly ache with the lewd urgings of love.”

'“Of course, my darling. I am always willing and eager to minister to your physical needs. Besides, nature knows no finer lotion than spunk to keep skin smooth and supple, especially when it is of such delicacy as a ladies' bosoms.”

'I rolled over on to my side, and clasped that great ivory rod of his. I frigged him up and down a few times, and then pressed the bulging purple head between my titties.

'“See how the firm flesh enfolds your cock,” I exclaimed as he sensually rubbed his cock against my bosoms.

'He paused for a moment and looked down. “See how I rub its tip against your exquisite nipples,” he pointed out in turn.

'“Shall I frig your cock until your spunk shoots all over them?”

'“Of course, my sweet. Let my spunk gush all over those sweet strawberries.”

'“It is such a perfect summer's afternoon,” I purred, “that strawberries and cream would be an equally perfect complement. How I do like to see a rich, creamy spend at such a time. I am sure, my dear husband, you have more spunk in you than any man I have ever known.”

'“And, you have known many men?” he asked rhetorically.

'“Many men. Many, many, many men. And many women too, but not nearly so many as all those many men. But not any of them could cover my titties with spunk the way you do.”

'I seized his cock and almost instantly was rewarded with a great gushing jet of cum that shot right across my bosoms. Five, six, seven times, that great spunker of his pulsed and discharged its precious fluid against my person, as I writhed and squealed in pleasure, for I had been playing with my pussey through the open gusset of my drawers all the while and now could feel my own spend upon me as the great heavy drops rained down.

'“Aha!” cried my husband, so loud that I am sure half the household might hear us.

'“Aha!” I cried in return, not caring a jot as we writhed together in the throes of our mutual spending.

'And then, almost in an instant, it was over-at least for the time being. We lay back against the pillows in the breeze from the window, the rivulets of spunk already cooling, even as our ardour in turn diminished. With womanly acumen I rubbed the sweet fluid into my skin, not merely to prevent it running on to the exquisitely embroidered counterpane and spoiling it but also to gain the benefit of its wonderful properties of nutrition. A good thick jet of spunk, as I have said countless times to ladies and gentlemen of my acquaintance, is as fine a food for the skin as any of the costly preparations sold in jars by even the finest chemists of Jermyn Street. And then, for a moment or two, we drowsed together in each other's arms.

'Later we adjourned to the drawing-room for tea. We found that the company, as well as Lord and Lady Somerville, consisted of Captain Turvey and his delightful wife Annabel, and a Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, of Saffron Walden. After an excellent early evening meal of rice soup, rolled loin of mutton, curried veal and gooseberry fool, washed down with liberal supplies of a fine white Burgundy, we all took a turn on the terrace. Here glasses of champagne were served. Heated, perhaps, by the wine and the warm summer's evening, conversation gradually assumed a form and character that might have been eschewed in more polite society. Not lewd, exactly, but certainly a good deal more intimate than the polite and studied tone which so frequently characterises post-prandial intercourse.

'I am sure that Lord Somerville had read everyone's mind, for after our third or fourth glass he stood up and addressed the party.

'“'Now that the evening is becoming somewhat cooler,” he began, “I think it would be a fine thing, would it not, if we were to repair indoors and to show you something of that architectural indulgence for which, I gather, Somerville House has become celebrated in sporting circles. I refer, of course, to the Nuditorium my wife and I have established here in our ancestral home.”

'There was a general murmur of consent. I am sure that both the Turveys and the Middletons were as keen as Humphrey and myself to see it. Accordingly we took our glasses and, led by our host and hostess, strolled through the splendid reception rooms of Somerville House until we came to a fine carved door of English oak.

'Lord Somerville produced a key from his waistcoat pocket. “I prefer to keep the suite locked,” he explained. “There are many valuable items kept here. And besides, we not infrequently are obliged to entertain guests-mostly serious men of politics, and from the world of commerce, and such dull company whose general humour would not, I am afraid, be much improved were they to pass through this particular door. But I am sure our present company will find nothing whatever to offend them within-indeed, it is the fervent hope of myself and my dear wife that you will find a very great deal to amuse you here.”

'He stood aside, and we were ushered into a room richly furnished in the oriental style then much in vogue. Further apartments in turn led of this.

'“Let me show you some of the best features,” said a voice, and we turned to see our hostess, Lady Somerville, emerging from one of the side-chambers. She was quite naked.

'“Yes indeed,” cried her husband, not in the least perturbed by his wife's appearance in a state of paradisiacal innocence before his guests. “But first we too must disrobe. There is no point in having a Nuditorium without nudity, after all!”

'He quickly suited deed to word. I glanced at Humphrey-he seemed mesmerised by the radiant and entirely naked beauty of our hostess-and nodded my eager assent. In a second we, too, had undressed, and stood sipping our champagne in the unclothed company of our fellow guests. I was taken particularly by the splendour of Captain Turvey's cock, which was already showing signs of rapid and considerable tumescence. My husband murmured his appreciation of the size and firmness of his hostess's bosoms, and vowed to have the better of them before the evening was out. I too took quite a letch to suck the tits of an English lady, and told him so, sotto voce.

'Leaving our clothes piled on the floor where we had stepped out of them, we made a tour of inspection of the apartments. Lord Somerville pointed out some of the features of interest-the ingenious system of mirrors whereby a watch could be kept on activities in the bedchambers directly adjacent; the large bed in the centre of the room surrounded by armchairs and divans, so that ladies and gentlemen might sit comfortably and enjoy a drink or a fine cigar while they watched others of their company disporting themselves on the sheets and pillows; the marble bath; the Italian piano; the countless fine prints and paintings showing scenes that would satisfy every conceivable erotic whim. It was, in truth, a veritable temple of Venus, and we loudly proclaimed our wholehearted approval to our ingenious host and hostess.

'“Of course,” said Lord Somerville, “one always takes great care to choose one's guests with taste and discretion, so that future friendships-not necessarily of a purely amatory nature-may have the chance to blossom here. Many a useful connection in the City or the House – or, dare I say it, at Court-has been forged here.'

'He pulled aside a curtain, and drew out a device not dissimilar to a magic-lantern, mounted on a wheeled trolley.

'“Guests who stay at Somerville House are, of course, cordially invited to sign the visitor's book. It is a source of no small gratification to my wife and I to look back over those pages from time to time on the long and lonely winter evenings, and to read once more the names of those brilliant and distinguished friends who have graced our humble home with their presence. As you will see, we also have an interesting record of the guests who have whiled away an hour or two in the Nuditorium.”

'He struck a vespa, and a searing beam of light lit up the room. Then a photograph, much enlarged, was projected on the wall directly opposite his Lordship's magic lantern.

'“Count von Buhlen, of Danzig, fucking the wife of one of our most distinguished portrait painters. And another-Sir Egbert Claughton, our ambassador to the King of Spain-proudly showing what is unquestionably the longest prick my wife has ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Now we see Sophie and Emma, the twin daughters of General Hapgood, licking the cunt of the splendid Lady Erinmore. See, here is Lady Erinmore again, with my own prick in her mouth while she is fucked from the rear by the Maharaja of Filthistan, a potentate with the finest collection of erotica in the whole of India. What exotic bout we ran that night, I can tell you! Here is my wife again, playing the fellatrix with the Bishop of Bath and Wells-what a pair of balls he has on him, to be sure! And now Mrs. Neaverson and Mrs. Dugdale-deadly rivals their husbands may be at Westminster, but here are their wives busy dildoing each other in fine style, while Her Majesty's Sergeant-at-Arms masturbates vigorously in the background.”

'I could not resist giving my husband Humphrey's cock a sly squeeze, and noted with pleasure that it was already as stiff as a regimental flagpole. Indeed, others had been similarly impressed with the photographs, for Mrs. Middleton was sitting with her legs apart while her husband played skilfully with her pussey. After we had seen the last lantern slide-a remarkable study of the operatic diva La Ciccone being fucked by Sir Constantine Learie, the sportsman and politician, while simultaneously being enculed in rear by the pianist Horobin-we all spontaneously burst into applause.

'Lord Somerville modestly acknowledged our tributes. “Something slightly more energetic now, perhaps!” he called, and his wife sat down at the piano. “My dear lady,” he beseeched me, “would you do me the pleasure?”

'I half expected to be pushed backwards on to a sofa there and then, but instead of this he led me off in a delightful waltz around the room while Lady Somerville accompanied us on the piano, exhibiting no small accomplishment at the musical arts. The others quickly joined us, Captain Turvey with Mrs. Middleton and his own wife, Annabel, in the arms of Hugh Middleton. My dear Humphrey was profitably employed in turning the music for his hostess.

'We were all, it should be remembered, entirely naked. Though I have experienced many sensations in a life largely devoted to the pleasures of the flesh, I had never encountered any that was quite so hovel, or as titillating, as that of dancing closely together in flagrante delecto. There is always the delight, when dancing fully clothed, of knowing that the press of one's bosom against a manly chest is discreetly acknowledged and appreciated, and similarly of feeling the insistent stirrings of one's partner's prick against a gartered thigh. But this was an entirely different proposition.

'“And how do you like my Nuditorium?” asked his Lordship when we had completed the second circuit of the room.

'“I think it is excellent,” I replied, lightly rubbing my Mound of Venus against him. He lightly squeezed my bottom-cheeks in acknowledgment. “My husband speaks of installing something similar at our own home. On a more modest scale, of course, for our means are perhaps not quite so limitless as your own.”

'Lord Somerville laughed gaily. “Nonsense, my dear girl! From what I hear at my club, old Humphrey is one of the richest men in all England. I am sure he can quite outdo me in that respect. My wife too has long admired his acumen.”

'We both burst into laughter at this wordplay, and glanced over at where our respective partners were seated at the piano. Lady Somerville's fingers flickered lightly over the keys, while Humphrey was leaning across and cupping her fine breasts as he had so often caressed my own. From time to time, they would exchange knowing looks.

'Presently we sank on to a divan, and watched the others as they progressed from waltz to polonaise to mazurka. Lord Somerville poured me a glass of champagne. Despite my nakedness, I was quite panting with the exertion of the dance, and welcomed the libation. Almost unconsciously, I lay closer to Lord Somerville and casually stroked his fine chest. He in turn drew his long, aristocratic fingers up and down my spine in a way that quite made me tingle with longing. In a second we were kissing deeply and passionately, our tongues flicking each other's.

'Fired by a fierce longing, I whispered lewd imaginings in Lord Somerville's ears. It was as though I had ignited gunpowder. He pushed me backwards, covering my body with savage kisses, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. The music resounded around the room, yet louder still seemed the rush of blood through my ears. I lay back on the cushions and within seconds he had mounted me, his questing cock probing deep within me as a voluptuous thrill coursed through my loins.

'“Ah! I die!” I cried, as he thrust hard against me, his great lordly ball-sack seeming to slap against my bum-cheeks in time to his powerful movements. In and out went that splendid cock, splashing in the lubricious secretions of my pussey like a dog splashing happily in a river.

'“My God, dear lady!” he exclaimed, as I slapped his bum hard and urged him to still greater exertions. “It is too much! I can hold back no longer.” And with that his great tool shook me like an earthquake from within, and I could feel great pulsing gobs of spunk shoot into me as I squealed with my own spending and bit him sharply on the neck.

'“I never knew a cunt that was so tight and yet so wet at the same time,” he said when he had recovered his breath and uncunted.

'“But were you not once in amorata of Miss Langtry, the actress?” I ventured. “They do say that, for powers of nip and squeeze, her pussey could clamp a man's cock down as hard as if it were in a vice on a bench.”

'“In comparison with having the pleasure of your own dear pussey,' he murmured, 'fucking Miss Lillie Langtry was like lobbing a jug of cream down Regent Street.”

'We both roared with laughter to such an extent that the music came to an abrupt halt. The others had, it seemed, been so carried away by their own intrigues that they had scarcely begun to realise what had passed between Lord Somerville and myself. However, soon there were other combatants in the lists of love, lady Somerville was busy sucking Humphrey's cock as he stood by her at the piano, while Rachel Middleton and Captain Turvey were playing a delightful game of “sixty-nine” on a Kashmiri rug by the fireplace. Hugh Middleton, in turn, was busy rodding Annabel Turvey from behind. I could see the fine shaft of his love-staff as it thrust in and out of her, and I pointed this out to Lord Somerville.

'“Aye, he has a fine cock, it is true. And see how her titties swing as she kneels before him! Mrs. Middleton has a fine pair of bosoms, does she not? Come, my dear, what say you that I shall suck one of them while you suck the other?”

'So saying, he practically pulled me to my feet and led me across the room. He lay down beneath Rachel and his tongue began to lick and flick at her nipples with commensurate skill. In a trice I had lain down beside him, and my mischievous tongue began its saucy work.

'“Oh, what rapture! exclaimed the object of our ardour. “How I love to take on several partners at once!”

'“And how I like to see a woman making love to another woman,' cried Lord Somerville.

'The sight of myself lying, legs apart, beneath Rachel Middleton must have driven Captain Turvey to a frenzy of lust. His eyes rolled, and I could feel his body shuddering as he shot his load into her. He uncunted and fell back on to the rug, but Mrs. Middleton's ardour seemed unassuaged.

'“Quick, my Lord, put your own cock up my cunt,” she breathed. “I am sure I can't be satisfied till I have two men's spendings in me. And Henrietta, let me lick your cunt even as his Lordship fucks me from behind, and let us all three spend together.”

'I lay down before her, and parted my legs. For the second time inside ten minutes, Lord Somerville unsheathed his great sword and plunged it in her right up to the hilt, even as Rachel buried her face in my muff and licked greedily.

'A nice cock in the pussey is a splendid sensation, but surely there is little in the realm of the senses that quite equals the exquisite pleasure of woman cunt-licking woman. How Rachel's probing tongue found my every recess, how she lapped and nipped with consummate skill! I spent once, twice and had very nearly reached my third climax before Lord Somerville's shouts betokened his imminent spending.

'After this the party retired to the marble bathing-hall where, purified and refreshed by further generous bumpers of champagne, we laid plans for further lewdness.

'Our next bouts were handsome Hugh Middleton up my cunt while I sucked my dear husband's prick; Lord Somerville fucking Annabel Turvey in front while her husband enculed her from the rear (she, it had been admitted as we bathed together, being rather fond of this double insertion); Lady Somerville and Rachel Middleton dexterously dildoing each other while studying their reflection in one of the fine chemise glasses that were placed to good advantage around the room.

'After that, I took on Captain Turvey while his wife licked both my cunt and his cock, on which I was spitted; my husband fucked Rachel Middleton kneeling down while Hugh came allover her tits; and Lord and Lady Somerville enjoyed a splendid and entirely orthodox fuck in each other's arms.

'A little before midnight, our heads fairly spinning from the champagne and our strenuous exertions, we made our separate ways unsteadily to bed. My darling husband, bless him, still had sufficient spunk in him to pay a final tribute to my charms, before we fell into deep and undisturbed slumber.

'The following morning we all breakfasted together. Such was the discretion of the company that, before the servants, there was not the slightest hint of the improprieties of the night before. The titled lady who, not twelve hours before, had taken my husband's cock in her bum now decorously assured him it would be no trouble to send to the kitchen for more bacon. I, meanwhile, demurely passed the sugar to the man whose spunk I had earlier so greedily swallowed, while Lord Somerville politely discussed local matters with his two other lady guests, despite my having seen with my own eyes them taking turns to suck his cock and lick his wife's quim. And then, myself perhaps slightly sore and my husband complaining in private of the odd twinge here and there, we made an affectionate farewell to the party, and so took our leave of Somerville Hall and the remarkable pleasure of its Nuditorium.'

Mrs. Horwill gave a deep sigh of satisfaction at a story well told and, for a brief moment or two, stared off into space with a little grin and a twinkling eye. The atmosphere in the senior girls' study could be cut with a knife. No one spoke for a full five minutes as, to a girl, we sat motionless, fighting to commit each delicious nuance and saucy twist of Mrs. Horwill's reminiscences to memory.

Suddenly someone giggled, then before you could say 'hot furry fannies' the whole room was laughing and joking and chatting in a thoroughly enlightened and animated style.

Mrs. Horwill was delighted at the effect her lustful little tale had had on us. She sat in our midst, four-square and smiling, like a proud bitch with her litter of squirming, mischievous puppies.

For myself, I was still finding it almost totally impossible to believe that this was the mother of plain Jane Horwill, a girl I'd scarcely glanced at, let alone shared confidences with, since my arrival at the Academy some weeks before. I decided then and there to make a mental note to find out more about her in the days and weeks that followed her charming mother's visit to our illustrious establishment. Maybe there was more to our Jane than met the eye. We would see…

'Do tell us another story, Madame,' begged Lucille, a pretty little blonde with shiny ringlets and a dusting of freckles on her retrousse nose.

'My dears!' laughed Mrs. Horwill,' I swear I shall lose my voice once and for all if I agree to recount any more of my exploits, and that would never do. My dear husband and myself have been invited to dine this evening at the British Embassy in Lucerne, so I must preserve my energy and my vocal chords or there'll be hell to pay.

'The Ambassador himself is a dear, sweet man – a gentleman and a scholar-but, alas, he lost his loving wife to whom he was totally devoted in a boating accident some months ago, and is still reeling from the shock of his loss. Indeed, so deep is his sorrow that from time to time he loses all sense of reason and finds himself saying things and acting in ways hitherto unthought of, which would make his dear departed wife turn in her grave.

'Why, only the other day my husband and I were indulging in a spot of Whist with the Ambassador in the drawing room at the Embassy. Darling Humphrey was droning on, as he is wont to do, about the fine architectural heritage of the town in general and the Embassy building in particular, waxing lyrical about the giant porticos, the stately colonnades and the delicate cornicing to be found within.

'The Ambassador and I were hardly listening, disrespectful though it may be to admit such a thing, and when Humphrey left the room for a minute or two in order to answer a call of nature, the illustrious gentleman leant across, planted his hand firmly on my upper thigh and, looking me full in the eyes, made me promise to make my excuses this evening after dinner (I decided in a trice that I could complain of a headache or somesuch) and slip away from the assembled gathering so that we might meet in his chambers for a post-prandial glass or two of brandy, and maybe a spot of spontaneous entertainment of our own invention if the time was right and our hearts felt mutually inflamed by the idea.

'I have to admit, my dears, that the very thought of an hour or two spent alone in the company of the great man elicits within me emotions of a thoroughly unladylike nature. Indeed, I feel quite lightheaded at the notion.'

With this, Mrs. Horwill leant back and rested her ample frame against the elegant brocade back of the sofa, breathing rather too rapidly for comfort and frantically fanning her flushed cheeks with a small, painted silk fan which had previously been concealed about her voluptuous person.

'Tell me, my sweet,' she said breathlessly, looking expectantly at a sultry brunette by the name of Mariette, 'would it be possible to partake of a little glass of something to soothe my nerves? Maybe a small brandy, or even a soupcon of Schnapps?'

'Mais non Madame!' exclaimed Mariette with mock horror (the twinkle in her big brown eyes gave a clue to the fact that she was quite obviously highly amused, despite the severity of her tone). 'Alcohol is strictly forbidden at the Academy (but not within its grounds, I thought with glee as I remembered my sensual little dejeuner sur l'herbe with Nicole, Michel and Antoine a few days earlier, and how our randy foursome had polished off several generous measures of champagne and red wine on that lazy, hazy, sexy afternoon), but if you will permit me, I'd love to share with you a letter I received this morning from my dear brother, Jamie.

'He and I are twins and, as you might expect, we share more than our looks! He tells me absolutely everything and always has done, and since he's a very naughty boy indeed with a quite spectacular passion for pretty young girls, his letters to me are often of a thoroughly explicit nature. Indeed, the one I'm about to read you made me blush to the very roots of my hair when I first saw it. Anyway, here goes!'

Mariette's sparkling eyes and eager demeanour gave a lie to and quite overshadowed her modest protestations of embarrassment. Tossing back her bonny brown curls, withdrawing two or three crumpled, well-read sheets from the bodice of her dress and clearing her throat in readiness, she began:

'“My darling sister, Mariette, I am aching to recount to you a randy little anecdote told to me the other day by dear old Bertie. He and I had been enjoying a glass or two of beer in the open air with some friends of ours, when suddenly he came out with a tale to make your hair curl and put roses in your cheeks! The circumstances were rather as follows:

'“'It looks like it's going to rain,' observed Cristabel, who had been studying the clouds over the distant mountains.

'“'They say that if you can see the Eisberg clearly from here before 10 in the morning, then it will rain before luncheon,' said Antoinette.

'“'And if you can't see it, then it must be raining already,' added Monsieur la Rochelle, with his customary dry sense of humour.

'“'What's all this?' asked Bertie, who had evidently been dozing underneath the laurel tree and had just now awoken with a start.

'“'I said it looks like rain.' said Cristabel.

'“Bertie picked up his half-drunk glass of beer, and held it up against the sky.

'“'My word, you're right,' he said at length, after studying the pale fluid intently for some while. 'It certainly does look like rain. With, I might add, just the very faintest flavour of hops.'

'“We all laughed uproariously at this gem of Bertie's wit. Another bottle of champagne was broached, and again we drank deeply. Bertie, however, topped up his glass with beer. He came from a long-established line of brewers in Wiltshire, and I was touched by his devotion to the beverage that made their name.

'“'I say, Portland, old chap!' he called at length. 'Let me pose you a question. Why is this glass of beer-of whose quality I am distinctly not enamoured-like making love in a punt? Let's see if a Cambridge man can answer that one, eh? Let's put a fiver on it to make things more interesting.'

'“Lord Portland, not the brightest spark of Edwardian England's manhood, looked puzzled. But the natural instincts of the sportsman rendered him incapable of refusing a challenge.

'“'Have a swig yourself, my dear fellow,' urged Bertie. 'It might get the old grey matter ticking over. Though not as well, I might add, as if you were drinking our very own Celebration Ale, which we brewed especially to mark the Coronation of our present King. That sir, was a beer as fine as any that I have ever tasted.'

'“Lord Portland took the proffered glass and sipped reflectively. 'Why is this beer like making love in a punt? Hmmmm, let me see now. It's dry, to be sure. Could that be it, I wonder? Wet and dry? No, surely not. It has a faintly nutty taste, though. Because only a fool would consider making love in a punt? No, it can't be.'

'“His brows furrowed again.

'“'Why is this beer like making love in a punt? Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm.' I thought I could almost hear the cog-wheels whirring around inside my head, but then he gave me the most outrageous wink.

'“'Why is this beer like making love in a punt, you ask?' He paused, and took a deep draught of the amber nectar. 'I'll tell you why, Bertie,' he said in a quiet undertone. 'Because it's fucking near water that's why! Eh? That's a good 'un, what? Thought you'd got me there, didn't you? Fucking near water, that's the answer to your riddle! Come on now, old boy, cough up! Let's see the colour of your money!'

'“Bertie paid up in great good humour as befits a gentleman. 'Actually,' he began, 'my question does put me in mind of another little riddle of my own, that actually took place some few years ago, when I was in Venice. I had been staying with the Powells-excellent people, who had come originally from Bicester-and one evening we went, as one might, for a gondola cruise on the canals.

'“'Venice, is, as you will know, a most delightful place, especially when the softer light of early autumn adds its own special qualities. The evening was made even more delightful because I was seated at the rear of our gondola, squeezed in between the two Powell daughters, Rebecca and Suzanna, twin sisters of some seventeen years.

'“'For over an hour we passed along the canals and lagoons, admiring the splendours of the buildings as they were lit up by the setting sun. It grew chilly, and at length rugs were passed out by Mrs. Powell. I was given a particularly large and thick one which I spread loosely over the laps of the two girls and myself, and we resumed our journey tucked up in perfect snugness within its capacious folds.

'“'After a while I became conscious of a movement on my leg. At first it was no more than an animal might make, as when a cat brushes herself against you. Then I was aware that it was moving gradually up my thigh. Thinking there might be some insect crawling about beneath the rug, I wriggled slightly to try and shake it off, but was hampered both by my being closely hemmed in by the Powell girls and my wish not to alarm them. You can imagine the panic that would have been caused had I said I suspected there was a spider under the rug.

'“'My wriggling proved ineffectual. To distract myself, I began talking instead in an animated fashion, drawing attention to this church or that tower, without really knowing what I said. The Powell girls listened politely and added observations of their own, obviously quite unaware-or seemingly so-of my discomfort.

'“'The movement was now around my groin. Then I became aware that soft fingers were caressing the bulge at the front of my trousers, kneading and squeezing it until my cock was inflamed with longing. The strange nature of my position made my arousal even more exquisitely unbearable. Though it was obvious that either Rebecca or Suzanna was responsible, each girl showed an almost complete detachment from the business in hand. Rebecca was talking to her father, who was seated in front of us, and Suzanna was telling me something of the history of St Mark's church. Their expressions alone betokened complete innocence.

'“'So this state of affairs went on for some little while, and then the mysterious hand quickly unbuttoned me and took hold of my prick. I looked at one sister, and the other, and then back at the first again. They acknowledged my glances with a smile or a casual nod, as one would on momentarily catching a friend's eye. There was not the slightest suggestion that one of them-and I could not for the life of me tell which-was quietly playing with my cock beneath the rug.

'“'The situation was unspeakably erotic. I longed to pull back the rug, to take a sister in my arms-it didn't matter which, for they were both exquisitely beautiful-and plunge my burning cock into her there and then. This, however, would have been quite out of the question. At the very least, it would have horrified her parents, who were sitting only a few feet away. It might even have capsized the boat, and sent us all to Davy Jones's locker.

'“'So I simply sat there, seething with lust, while that expertly skilled hand worked up and down my cock with firm, discreet strokes. Light fingers fluttered elegantly against my blazing prepuce, and yet not a ripple of movement showed on the surface of the rug.

'“'Soon, inevitably, I spent-all over her hand, the rug and my trousers. I was powerless to stop it, even had I wanted to. My laboured breathing must have caught Mrs. Powell's ear, for she turned to glance at me for a moment. Through a whirl of bawdy feelings I was aware of Rebecca casually discussing plans for tomorrow's excursions with her father, while Suzanna was exchanging playful banter with her young brother, Tom, standing in the bow of the boat. For my part, I felt like subsiding into a heap.

'“'In time, but my mind still quite aflame, we returned to our moorings, close to the Powells' apartment. I had the presence of mind to quickly button myself as we gathered up the rug and stepped out of the boat. Thanks to the darkness and a discreet readjustment of my jacket I was, I think, successful in concealing the very obvious marks that were evident on the front of my white trousers.

'“'We spoke for some little time on the shore before our party broke up and I returned with the Powells to their home. Not a single sign did I detect from either of the sisters that they had been in any way involved in what had happened on the boat. And yet the bare fact of the matter was that one of them-a girl I had neither made overtures to, nor even spoken to much during the course of my stay with them-had quite unashamedly tossed me off earlier that evening, not merely under a rug, but under her very parents' noses.

'“'Their mother, I now think, might well have suspected that something was afoot. From that point on, at any rate, we spent quite a bit of time together, touring the many museums and antiquities of Venice. This culminated, as such things will, in a most enchanting afternoon spent at the Excelsior Hotel-it being quite out of the question that such adulteries could be carried out under her own roof. But that, of course, is another story. For the moment, I rather fear that the heavens are about to burst, and unless we can get back to our lodgings within a few minutes we will, I am afraid, be in for a drenching.'

'“'Well, Mariette, as you might imagine, Bertie's tale fired the collective imagination of the assembled gathering in no uncertain manner! Emboldened by the alcohol we had consumed and flushed with heroic fervour by Bertie's story, it was as much as we could do to keep our hands off each other until we met again that evening, after dinner, for a glorious romp in my chamber!

'“I might as well tell you that Cristabel and I have been meeting in private, for similar such entertainment, ever since. I will let you know when next I write how the affair progresses.

'“Meanwhile, take care of yourself at that school of yours in Switzerland and be good, and if you can't be good, be careful!

'“With very much love, Jamie.”'

Coughing slightly, Mariette refolded the letter and replaced it in the soft little nest from whence it came-inside her bodice, between her warm breasts-and the rest of us burst into a round of spontaneous applause, accompanied by assorted whistles and cat-calls from some of my bolder, less decorous classmates.

By now thoroughly enjoying myself-our little gathering had turned into quite a party, thanks to Mrs. Horwill and Mariette and their saucy stories-I was quite crestfallen when the door to the study swung open and there on the threshold, stood Mademoiselle Cartier and the unfortunate Jane. The tutor stood there open-mouthed, like a fish out of water, and was obviously totally taken aback by the almost tangible aura of jollity which assailed her.

Jane, on the other hand, was red-faced and obviously highly embarrassed at what she perceived, quite rightly, to be yet another example of her mother's habitual impropriety.

'Darling!' boomed Mrs. Horwill to her unfortunate daughter. 'How wonderful to see you, and looking so… so… healthy, too.' She could hardly have said 'attractive' or 'becoming' I thought, meanly, and giggled behind my hand.

'Come, I've been simply dying to see your room – and to meet your tutors, of course (this with a deferential but not entirely convincing nod in the direction of Mademoiselle Cartier, who was by now quite white in the face with shock.)

'As you can see, I've already made myself known to some of your young friends,' she informed her daughter, turning to we girls and giving us an enormous, conspiratorial wink, eliciting a veritable barrage of juvenile titters and giggles from our little group. 'Now then, show me the way if you please.'

With a flourish of peacock silk, trailing an aromatic cloud of expensive French cologne, Mrs. Horwill left the study. Her daughter Jane, blushing hotly and with eyes raised heavenwards, fiddled with an imaginary rosary and followed resignedly. Mademoiselle Cartier, ashen-faced, brought up the rear.

As the study door softly closed behind them, those of us that were left exchanged glances before collapsing into uproarious laughter, vowing to somehow engineer a further meeting with the delightfully entertaining Mrs. Horwill before she finally departed for England.

***

Some weeks before I'd joined Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies, the esteemed principal had decided, working on the advice given by some of the college's governors, to allow us senior girls, in twos and threes, to visit the town from time to time in order to avail ourselves of some of the fine museums and galleries to be found there.

One sunny spring morning, shortly after I'd completed my toilet and consumed a hearty breakfast of crusty rolls with Morello cherry jam and a large, steaming cup of aromatic black coffee, I was called to Madame's study together with a fellow classmate, Justine.

'Mademoiselles D'Argosse et Villeneuve,' she said. 'I see by my diary that it is the turn of you both to visit the town. After lunch, I'll send my carriage to the front door of the Academy and the driver will wait for you there until 2.00 p.m., at which time I expect you to be correctly attired-don't be fooled by the weather; it's not as warm as it looks-and ready to embark on your trip.

'The mistress who under normal circumstances undertakes to accompany young ladies on these expeditions into town, Mademoiselle Bernard, is currently indisposed, so I'm relying on you girls to act with the decorum expected of your class, and to conduct yourselves with the grace and bearing necessary in order to bring credit to yourselves and your school.

'Please instruct the driver as to the places of learning you wish to visit. He will drive you to them and wait outside each one until you feel you've absorbed enough, at which time he will return you to the Academy in time for supper. You will have taken tea-an English custom, I believe-at one of the hotels in the centre of town. May I recommend l'Hotel Royale in the Rue Fontaine. Now all that remains is for me to wish you both bon voyage.'

With that she made a small gesture of dismissal and turned her attention to the papers on her desk.

Justine and I curtsied politely and left the room. Once outside the door and on our way to our classroom for a lesson in Geography, which I always found tedious in the extreme, we looked at each other and grinned conspiratorially.

'How kind of Madame to allow us an afternoon on the town,' I said, a wicked gleam in my eye.

'And just at the right time,' agreed Justine. 'My boyfriend is in town at the moment, spending part of his annual leave. He's a Professor of Humanities at the Sorbonne in Paris. I received a letter from him the other day outlining his plans, where he pleaded with me to try and meet him for an hour or two during his visit.

'The dear boy obviously misses me dreadfully. Maybe I could arrange it so that I just happened to be walking past his hotel when I discovered a pressing need for some light refreshment. I believe the hotel where he's staying, l'Hotel Candide, has a reputation for baking the best pastries in town, and utterly delicious they are, too-as light as swansdown and filled with fresh fruit and cream.

'Wait! He happened to mention that he would be accompanied by a friend from Paris-Maurice DeClerc, a Professor of Fine Art. Rosie, your luck's in! Maybe you, too, could discover a similar need for coffee and pastries!'

'But what about Madame's driver?' I asked with curiosity. Maybe Justine knew something I didn't-she had been a student at the Academy for a term or two longer than me-but I failed to see how we could evade the eagle eye of the wily Gruber. He'd been in Madame's employ for a number of years and must by now have become well versed in the girlish pranks and tricks of her young students.

'And anyway,' I continued, 'Maurice is probably five feet tall and built like an ape. I certainly shouldn't like him if that were the case. I do have certain standards to maintain regarding my male acquaintances, you know.'

'Not a bit of it,' replied Justine, who must obviously have met the gentleman in question, 'he's six feet tall and built like a Greek god. And as for Gruber it's well known that one only has to grease his palm with a franc or two to ensure his total compliance. Indeed, he welcomes his free time in the town. It's been rumoured he has a lady friend there whom he visits whenever the opportunity arises. So, this afternoon for him holds the promise of an hour or two's lovemaking as well as some extra cash to bolster his income. I might even find it in my heart to do him a little favour…' she added mysteriously. 'I owe him one from my last trip into town. What more could the old reprobate want? Come we must hurry to our class. We're five minutes late already and we don't want to fall prey to the sharp side of Mademoiselle Phillipe's forked tongue-the old dragon!' Hurrying along at Justine's side, I couldn't for the life of me imagine what she'd meant about owing Gruber a favour. I wasn't allowed the opportunity to discover the reason, however-just as I opened my mouth to ask we arrived at our classroom and Justine pressed her finger to her lips and bade me be silent. I needn't have worried, though-I had oodles of fun finding out!

A few hours later, morning lessons and lunch over, Justine and I descended the steps of the Academy looking for all the world like two respectable young ladies of breeding about to embark on a mission of mind-expansion. But it was to be more than just our minds which were expanded on that glorious afternoon.

Glancing at each other with little smiles of complicity, we alighted the steps of the carriage and seated ourselves comfortably within-side by side, ankles crossed, dainty gloved hands in laps and jackets tightly buttoned.

No sooner had we commenced our journey into town than the carriage stopped, Gruber jumped down from his driving seat and came round to the door of the carriage, opening it and peering in at us with a look of expectation on his face.

I marvelled at Justine's bare-facedness as she smiled sweetly and handed him a small, sealed envelope. Obviously she's been through this procedure before, I thought to myself. Then, mouth open in surprise, I watched as she carefully removed her gloves and slowly undid the buttons of her jacket, and then her high-necked white lace blouse.

Pushing these items of clothing to one side and looking down her nose at the by-now sweating Gruber in a thoroughly patrician manner, she pushed her shoulders back, thrust out her chest and proudly displayed to him her nubile young breasts which were snow white, uplifted and rosebud tipped.

Having got over the initial shock of this brazen display I began to see the potential of the situation and, as I looked longingly at Justine's darling tits, a plan began to form in my mind.

Lasciviously running my pink tongue over my lips, pussey growing increasingly damp at the prospect of the fun to follow, I too undid my upper garments and, savouring every erotic moment, peeled them back to reveal my full, rounded breasts to Gruber's gaze.

The poor man was now quite red in the face and, fumbling with his fly buttons, issued a series of small, strangled cries.

At first gazing lovingly at my beautiful twin assets, I began to fondle them with my soft hands, following their full, snowy contours with my fingers and stroking the plump strawberry nipples until they grew firm and pointed.

Continuing in this way, I raised my big blue eyes and looked levelly into Gruber's, which by now were like organ stops. He'd pulled his cock free and was frigging himself like a man possessed, grunting and shuddering by turns.

Turning to face my pretty young friend I gently smiled and stroked her cheek with my finger. Then, placing my hands on her shoulders I pulled her towards me and we began to explore each other's faces with our parted lips before sinking into a deep, erotic kiss. Our girlish arms twined around each other and our tits pressed together, nipples touching and sending ripples of pleasure through us both.

At last, with a long-drawn-out groan, Gruber ejaculated into the handkerchief he had ready for the purpose then, swiftly and with a furtive glance around him, began to tuck his still-slightly erect cock back into his trousers. His task completed, he gave a couple of embarrassed coughs (not very convincingly), leered suggestively at us both and slammed the carriage door before climbing back into his driving seat at the front of the vehicle.

As the carriage began to move off again, Justine and I looked at each other for a moment or two before collapsing into fits of thoroughly unladylike laughter, shoulders shaking and naked breasts bouncing with mirth.

'Did you see his face?' I shrieked. 'I thought for a moment he was going to die from a heart attack when I showed him my tits!'

'And did you hear him whimper like a little lost dog when we began to kiss?' said Justine. 'My only regret is that he chose to spunk into his handkerchief. If he'd taken it upon himself to squirt it over our bosoms I'd have taken great pleasure in ordering him to lick it off them-first yours, then mine-so that not a sticky trace of it was left. Dear me! The very thought of his big, wet tongue lapping the salty cum from my nipples has made me incredibly horny.'

'You wicked girl, Justine. The very idea of it! You've made my pussey go all damp and hot again,' I said, more seriously this time and gazing longingly into Justine's mischievous face.

'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' she whispered, all amusement gone from her voice. 'If so, I'd love it if you'd play with my nipples for a while before we get dressed again.'

Looking at me with her big, brown eyes she gave me a suggestive little wink then, tossing back her thick, waist-length strawberry-blonde hair, leaned back against the seat of the carriage in a thoroughly abandoned manner.

With a look of serenity on her face she closed her eyes, her pert little breasts rising and falling as she breathed, blush-pink nipples tantalisingly erect. With her cute, retroussie nose and generous, upturned lips she looked for all the world like a contented kitten waiting for its mother to commence preening.

Taking care not to touch her nipples, I softly stroked her adorable tits with the tips of my cool fingers while she squirmed with delight. For a brief moment I almost thought I heard her begin to purr.

Turning my attention to her nipples I began to gently flick them, noticing at the same time the rapid thumping of her heart and the little goose-bumps rising on her sensitive white skin.

'Please suck them, Rosie,' she begged in a small, hesitant voice, a look of gentle pleading in her wide eyes. 'It may seem strange but it's a long time since I've had a girl make love to me. I need to remind myself of what it's like to feel the insistent pressure of soft, feminine lips around my nipples. Don't tease me, Rosie. Do it now!'

I hadn't the heart to keep the poor girl waiting so I moistened my full lips and lowered them to each of her trembling nipples in turn, nibbling the taut rosy flesh and sucking deeply.

Concentrating on the delicious task in hand I became aware of a tiny, stockinged foot, divested of its shoe, insinuating itself under my gown and between my shapely thighs as I knelt on the carriage floor. Obligingly parting my legs and feeling the damp fabric of my brief panties stretch, and the folds of my ever-willing cunt part and begin to throb in expectation, I sucked and lapped at Justine's nipples with an even greater diligence before asking in a low, seductive voice:

'Tell me, darling, do you plan to fuck me with your pretty little toes? I do hope so! No one's ever pleasured me that way before. Here, let me help you.'

With that I reached down, flung my full skirts over my back and pulled down my knickers, thereby displaying my upraised naked bottom to the bug-eyed occupants of a passing cab.

A moment or two later, hearing the muffled screech of brakes and a splintering crash, we guessed that the unfortunate vehicle must have somehow left the road. How strange, I thought to myself, that my lovely bum, for so long the source of endless pleasure for myself and countless others, should be the cause of so much needless damage. Had the poor, deprived driver never seen a pretty girl's bare-cheeked arse before?

Attention drawn back to the growing need between my legs, I took a sharp intake of breath as Justine's wriggling toes in their silky stocking found my erect clitoris, rubbing and massaging in such an expert manner that I felt my orgasm rapidly approaching.

Sucking lustily on Justine's warm, naked tits and wriggling my bare bum in the cool air of the carriage, I felt my wet cunt shudder with a series of tiny contractions as my climax arrived. Justine reached her orgasm at the same time and the carriage was filled with the sweet sound of soft, feminine moans and sighs of satisfaction.

Silently now, I pulled up my damp, lacy panties and straightened my stockings and skirts before planting a lingering kiss on Justine's smiling lips.

'Let's consider that little bout as a kind of rehearsal,' she said after a moment or two, a sexy plan forming in her mind. 'I'm sure my boyfriend, Pierre, and his handsome friend would be only too delighted to watch us enjoying each other's company in such a manner. What do you say, Rosie? Do you think we should lay on a little entertainment for the dear boys?'

'I can think of nothing nicer than a spot of naughty theatricals,' I agreed. 'Especially if we include some of the Candide's fresh cream pastries as props, and even more especially if we invite our audience of two to join in the frolics after a while. It's quite astonishing where on one's body one manages to disperse dollops of cream when one's having fun!'

Giggling wickedly, we discussed our plans for the afternoon's entertainments as our carriage grew ever nearer to our destination.

After what seemed to us to be a lifetime of waiting (so anxious were we for the fun to begin!), our carriage finally entered the outskirts of the town. Peering out of the windows of the vehicle, wide-eyed like two little girls on their first foray into the grown-up world-which we most certainly were not!-we saw tall, gaunt, slab-sided warehouses, a grubby-looking railway siding and numerous mean-looking dwellings with washing hanging outside and smoke curling from the chimneys.

Men, women and children thronged the streets, laughing, arguing and calling out to each other as they went about their daily business. A cheeky-faced young boy on a coster-monger's bicycle which seemed to be several sizes too large for him, caught sight of the two of us in our carriage like a couple of prim china dolls and grinned widely, removed both hands from the handlebars in a lewd gesture, then favoured us with a loud wolf-whistle before continuing on his brazen way.

Justine and I exchanged glances of indignation before breaking into amused smiles and eagerly returning our attention to the hurly-burly world outside our carriage window.

A swarthy, bewhiskered young man operating a barrel organ, on top of which danced a small, chattering monkey dressed in a suit of miniature clothes, stood on a street corner. Leaning back in a lazy, leisurely manner against his music machine, he was slowly inhaling the smoke from his long clay pipe whilst gazing with heavy lids at his companion-an exotic street girl with heavy, garish make-up and big, melon-like breasts which shook and wobbled as she moved.

She was engaged in loud and animated conversation with the man, eyes rolling and expressive painted lips moving nineteen to the dozen when all of a sudden, anecdote at an end, she slapped her thigh and erupted in a gale of sidesplitting laughter.

As we passed the colourful pair the man caught sight of us, winking and gesturing to the young whore, who turned and faced us before raising her gaudy skirts between thumbs and forefingers of both hands and dropping down in an exaggerated, mocking curtsey, facial expression fixed in an attitude of imperious dignity, made all the more ridiculous by her clown-like, painted features.

Favouring her with warm smiles to show we appreciated her little joke and were not in the least offended, the saucy young wench grinned and blew us a theatrical kiss before turning her back to us and, quick as a flash, raising her skirts to above her waist, bending over and wriggling her voluptuous, bare arse at us.

Speechless and red-cheeked with shock and embarrassment we fell back into the gloom of the carriage and pressed our heads against the seat-backs for fear that the cheeky young strumpet would see our discomfiture and exact still further revenge for what I could now see was our over-privileged, patronising manner towards her.

As we rumbled into the more salubrious, central part of town our pinched embarrassment faded and turned into beatific pleasure as we contemplated our plans for the afternoon.

Rounding a corner into one of the main streets, Justine recognised our destination, l'Hotel Candide, about halfway down on the right hand side. Gesturing to Gruber to stop the carriage by rapping smartly on the roof with her knuckles, we both set about the task of straightening our gowns, checking our appearance in the useful little mirror set just above my seat in the padded interior fabric of the vehicle, and prepared to alight.

Gruber drew the carriage to a halt a hundred yards or so away from our destination, lumbered down from his drivers' seat and ambled round to help us climb down to the pavement. Opening the carriage door he took each of our hands in turn and, eyes gleaming lasciviously, was rather too solicitous, I thought, in aiding our descent. When it was Justine's turn to alight she gave him a merry little wink and displayed for his benefit several inches of shapely, stockinged ankle and calf-an unnecessary expedient, I thought, since the poor man was already damp with perspiration and quite flushed with fresh excitement.

Before setting off towards the hotel Justine blew the unfortunate Gruber, who was by now putty in her naughty hands, a pretty little kiss and made him promise to meet us in the same place in three hours.

Amid much spluttering and coughing Gruber agreed to her request and climbed back on to his drivers' seat, rather painfully I fancied since his erection was the size and shape of a small Howitzer, before hurtling off down the street in the direction of his innocently unsuspecting mistress.

I hope she's ready for him, I thought with a grin. If the poor man doesn't spunk inside a warm cunt within the space of five minutes I swear his balls will explode with the buildup of pressure from within!

We entered l'Hotel Candide through a pair of heavy swing-doors fashioned from smooth, glowing mahogany and thick panes of crystal glass, and found ourselves in a totally different world from the one we'd left outside. A world of silent, deep-piled carpets, subdued lighting, polished wood, fresh flowers, hushed voices and the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Glancing around I noticed a small, elegant desk behind which sat an efficient-looking young lady with a striped blouse, spectacles and a rather prim, severe-looking hairstyle. She was peering at us over the top of her glasses in rather a pointed manner.

'That must be the receptionist,' I hissed. 'Come on, Justine, you'd better explain what we're here for… On the other hand,' I giggled, immediately visualising the likely furore cased by a true revelation of our intent, 'perhaps your explanation had better be a little less inflammatory!'

Clearing her throat and linking her arm in mine, she marched purposefully with me to the receptionist's exceptionally tidy desk and, chin held high in the manner of one who is used to being obeyed, began to speak.

'Bonjour, Mademoiselle,' she said in clear, even tones.

'Bonjour, Ma… Mademoiselle,' replied the slightly discomfited receptionist after first scanning Justine's hand for signs of a wedding ring. 'How can I help you?'

'My sister and I have arranged to meet my brother and his friend here this afternoon for coffee. Messieurs Renoir et DeClerc. I believe they are staying at l'Hotel Candide, non?”

'Mais oui, Mademoiselle. The two gentlemen to whom you refer left the hotel ten minutes ago in order to go for a little stroll in the park. Monsieur DeClerc assured me they would return within half an hour. Indeed, the gentleman did mention something about being sorely in need of a cup of strong coffee and one of our pastries.' Glancing around her to make sure no one was listening, she whispered, 'I've heard tell that one of them was fortunate enough to make a killing at the Roulette wheel yesterday evening, and they both spent the rest of the night at La Moulin Rouge, spending it!' She giggled irreverently until, embarrassed by her little outburst, she bit her lip, eyes downcast, and continued.

'Would you be willing to wait in the salon until they return? It is just at the end of that corridor over there. I will be sure to tell them you are here, waiting for them, when they return from their walk…'

'Merci, Mademoiselle. We will wait for them in the salon.'

As we left the desk, the young lady's expression softened a little and her mouth curved into a wistful little smile. She gave a small sigh and, with an absent look, followed or progress towards our place d'assignation.

In those few seconds I realised that she couldn't be any further advanced in years than Justine and myself. Had she guessed the truth behind our little fabrication? Did she yearn in her heart of hearts to join our little party for an afternoon of frivolity, fun and flirtation-possibly followed by fanciful frolics-with a pair of devilishly handsome young men, which I felt sure was the delicious fate awaiting my friend and I?

Settling ourselves on a small settee in the salon to wait for Pierre and Maurice, Justine and I attempted to attract the attention of the young waitress who dodged backwards and forwards between the kitchen and the salon with trays of coffee and cakes for her clients – a mainly elderly collection of ladies and gentlemen, and most certainly highly demanding of her attention to their gastronomical needs.

As my eyes followed those of the waitress, hoping in vain to attract her over to us so that we might place our order, my attention was caught by a solid, rather heavy-looking gentleman sitting in the far corner. Grey-haired and whiskered with a ruddy complexion and a pronounced pot belly, he had been gazing at us over the top of his newspaper with considerable interest since we'd entered some five minutes previously.

As my eyes met his, the randy old gentleman gave me a big, suggestive wink, then coughed in a self-conscious sort of way and pretended to return to his newspaper, glancing up at regular intervals to check my reaction to his rather forward gesture.

What an excellent manner in which to pass the time until our young men arrive, I thought to myself. A saucy little dalliance with a horny old duffer who, by the look of him, is old enough to be our grandfather!

Edging closer to Justine on the little settee, I gently nudged her with my elbow and, with a whispered explanation and a little series of gestures, alerted her to the comic, as well as the erotic, potential of the situation we now found ourselves in.

'Maybe he thinks we're a couple of working girls,' Justine hissed at me under her breath.

'Then we'll not disillusion the old boy,' I replied. 'Come, let's make his day and have some fun into the bargain!'

The next time my eyes met his I, too, winked suggestively and indicated with a little tilt of my head for him to join us at our table.

Eyes widening with surprise and delight he swiftly folded his newspaper and did as he was bid, pausing for a moment to instruct the waitress in hushed tones (continually glancing across at us all the while for fear we might disappear in a puff of smoke) to bring a fresh pot of coffee-for three-and a plate of Florentines.

Justine and I once again exchanged knowing glances, primping and preening, moistening lips and adjusting our posture in order to enhance the jut of our breasts for the satisfaction of our new 'friend'.

'Good afternoon, ladies,' he said to us in impeccable English as he sat down, rather heavily, in a chair facing us on the other side of the small, rococo table. 'Allow me to introduce myself. My name is David Hostridge I hope you will not be offended but I noticed from where I was sitting that you were experiencing a little difficulty in attracting the attention of the waitress, so I've taken the liberty of ordering coffee and Florentines for us all, if that meets with your approval?'

He gave an obsequious little smile which served to irritate me intensely, reinforcing my desire to teach this rather patronising gentleman a lesson.

I smiled sweetly at him. 'Why, sir, how extremely kind and generous of you to favour us with your presence in this way,' I simpered at him from behind my fan, coyly fluttering my long eyelashes, before dropping the dainty confection of ivory and lace to the floor beneath the table.

'Allow me. Mademoiselle,' he said with a flourish.

'No, sir, allow me!'

With these words I dived under the table and, totally ignoring the dropped fan, began to tickle and fondle the portly gentleman's ankles and calves through the smooth fabric of his trousers. (Fortunately, my exploits were completely obscured by the heavy damask cloth which draped to the floor on all four side of the table, shielding me from the possible gaze of interested parties.

I felt the gentleman in question stiffen slightly with surprise, then commence a rather false-sounding and slightly falsetto conversation with Justine who, judging by the somewhat quavering tone of her voice and the way her toes were curled inside her shoes and her legs under the table were pressed tightly together in the tense attitude of one desperate to hold something in, was finding the whole situation amusing in the extreme.

Ignoring the deceptively bright conversation going on above my head, I deftly removed the shoe and sock from Mr. Hostridge's right foot and quickly popped his big toe into my mouth, sucking sweetly and exploring its contours with my wicked tongue.

As I did so I unbuttoned the front of my bodice and pulled aside my chemise so that my big, creamy breasts flopped out and hung suspended, luscious and naked and the perfect place to rest a man's bare foot, which I held in both hands and rubbed over my warm, yielding flesh.

When I tickled the soft, sensitive underside of his foot with my large, firm nipples which were by now like organ-stops, I felt him tremble with excitement and his voice reach an even higher register as he struggled to keep mind and body on an even keel and maintain an element of sense in his conversation with Justine.

By now, of course, the subject of their discourse was completely lost on me, so filled was I with lustful and erotic imaginings.

Letting go of Ids foot and snaking my hands upwards to his crotch, I quickly undid the buttons of his fly with great difficulty, I might add, since the fabric of his trousers was stretched almost to breaking point over his fat, pendulous belly and the enormous erect prick which lay beneath it like a thick, coiled serpent.

At last I managed to free the big, throbbing cock from its confines, stroking and squeezing it and pressing it against my firm white tits, and feeling it tremble and pulse in my tender hands as though with a life of its own.

When, finally, I lowered my head and took David Hostridge's huge, veiny member between my moist, pouting lips, nipping lightly but insistently with my even, pearly teeth, I felt a tremendous shudder and a huge surge of emotion course through his body.

At that moment, mouth crammed full of hot, engorged prick, I became aware that two more individuals-men-had joined in the conversation.

'Justine! What a wonderful surprise! How glad I am to see you, ma cherie. I'd almost given up hope. Maurice and I travel back to Paris tomorrow and I feared we'd leave Lucerne without having had the opportunity to spend some time with you. You've met my friend, Maurice, I believe?'

'Indeed we have met, Pierre,' agreed an attractively distinctive male voice. 'Mademoiselle, I am delighted to have this opportunity of renewing our acquaintance/ Maurice politely kissed Justine's proffered hand in the charming French manner. 'But I do hope we haven't interrupted your conversation with this gentleman. Monsieur, I don't believe I've had the pleasure…'

Maurice, it is true, may not previously have had the pleasure, but the gentleman referred to was at that precise moment enjoying pleasure of the most intense and exquisite kind, and showing every sign of inadvertently proclaiming his joy to the entire salon.

'Ahhh… No, no, I don't believe we have… Ooh, ooh, ooh!'

'Forgive me, sir, but are you entirely well?' asked Pierre, placing a solicitous hand on the older man's arm.

'Why, yes! Perfectly well, thank you… aargh, aargh, aargh! Just a spot of indigestion, I fear. Must have been those Florentines. Poor old insides can't stand the strain of too much rich food these days. Ha, ha, ha… AARGH!'

With that, the lecherous old devil shot his salty spunk into my busy mouth, as I continued to suck lustily on his game old tool, milking it dry and smacking my lips with libidinous pleasure.

Red-faced with shock and embarrassment, and thoroughly chastened by the experience of spunking before an audience, Mr. Hostridge stuffed his rapidly deflating cock back into his trousers, rose unsteadily to his feet and muttered an unlikely excuse about a prior engagement with a colleague on the other side of town, whereupon he shuffled away, hunched over in an effort to disguise the damp stain at the front of his semi-unfastened nether garments.

Wordlessly, Pierre and Maurice watched him go with looks of amused puzzlement, while I rose from beneath the damask tablecloth like Venus from the waves, glowing with triumph and satisfaction at the knowledge of a job well done.

'I don't believe you've met my friend,' smiled Justine. 'Rosie D'Argosse, absolutely the wickedest, naughtiest girl at Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies!'

The two young men stood speechless for a moment or two, eyes and mouths wide in amazement, before the truth finally dawned and the comedy of the situation prompted them to laugh out loud.

Pulling themselves together and remembering their manners, they took one of my hands each, planting gentle kisses thereon by way of introduction, all the while gazing into my eyes with delight and anticipation. They, too, it would seem had caught a glimpse of the sensual pleasures to follow.

An hour later, Pierre, Maurice, Justine and myself found ourselves comfortably settled and delightfully engaged in the luxury, two-bedroomed suite which the two young men were sharing at l'Hotel Candide.

The long drapes at the windows were modestly drawn in Maurice's bedroom, bathing everything and everyone in a warm, peachy glow but, to be frank, that was all that was modest about the voluptuous scene within.

All four of us were sitting or lying, as naked as the days we were born, on Maurice's large double bed. Two empty bottles of champagne lay, discarded, on the floor beside us. The warm atmosphere in the room lay heavily on our senses like a richly scented, sexual-charged cloud. A tray of assorted cream confections beckoned us, temptingly, from the bedside table.

Languidly, Maurice raised himself up from his prone position on the crumpled, musky sheets and lazily leaned on one elbow. 'Well, my beauties, which of you is going to volunteer to offer me one of those delicious cakes in a way I can't refuse? A prize for the girl who dares!' Raising his eyebrows in an attitude of enquiry and sexily narrowing his eyes, he glanced from one to the other of us, expectantly, his gaze eventually falling on me alone with a look of smouldering passion.

Long, lean and lightly muscled with dark, curly hair and a close-cropped beard, Maurice was everything I'd hoped he'd be-and more. He was all the things I looked for in a man, and the moment I'd set eyes on him my heart had skipped a beat.

Now, with the memory of our recent stimulating conversation fresh in my mind (which had shown that we had a great deal more in common than a fancy for each other's bodies), and at the sight of his magnificent, long prick which was slowly rising against his belly, pulsing with life and a need to possess, I desired only to give myself to him-totally, absolutely and irrevocably.

Never before had I felt this way about a man and, goodness knows, I'd known men aplenty, despite my tender years. Used always to being in full control of my amorous relationships, this particular man had reduced me to so much putty in his hands, wanting only to be shaped and moulded into a thing of beauty and life and passionate feeling between those sensitive, artistic fingers. Could I, for the first time in my life, have fallen in love?

Gazing back at him, heavy lidded and gently inhaling the heady, male scent of his body, I reached across and plucked a cream cake from the table beside the bed. Teasingly I took a delicious bite, then licked the cream from my lips like a naughty kitten before gracefully reclining on the crumpled bed.

Scooping two dollops of thick cream from the centre of the rich confection, I tenderly deposited them on the very tips of my engorged strawberry nipples which, already, were aching to be licked and sucked by the man of my dreams who lay before me, transfixed and softly panting with mounting excitement.

Taking another scoop of cream, I lay back fully on the bed, spread my long legs with the grace of a dancer and sensually anointed my hot, aching pussey which throbbed in unison with my love-sick heart and longed like never before to be filled to bursting with my wondrous new lover's prick.

Thus garnished I turned my sexy blonde head to face Maurice, eyes burning with lust and as yet unrequited love. Then, as if by magic, I found that we had been granted the entire bed to ourselves. Pierre and Justine, no doubt inflamed by my erotic display with the whipped cream and Maurice's obvious complicity in the warm, highly sexual gastronomic scene which would surely follow, had tactfully retired to Pierre's room and were, even now, engaged in eroticisms of their own.

Alone at last with my lover, I spread my gentle arms and my long, slim legs as far as they would go, willing Maurice to enter me and make me his with a ferocity I'd never previously known.

And I am glad to say that Maurice did not disappoint me. With a low groan he fell upon my breasts and my nipples topped with whipped cream, sucking and feeding upon them like a hungry babe until tears of joy pricked my eyes and, with a sob, I begged him to attend to the sultry haven between my legs.

Lowering his dark, tousled head he licked the rich cream from my dark, throbbing cunt, rubbing his nose and stubbly chin against my unbelievably sensitive clitoris and making me cry out with exquisite pleasure.

Unable to bear the sweet pain of his tongue a moment longer and desperate to be filled with his big, throbbing cock I took hold of his broad suntanned shoulders and pulled, his face up to meet mine.

At the same time as he thrust his eager tongue between my welcoming lips, exploring the deepest recesses of my mouth, his erect cock entered my hot cunt, pushing and thrusting with vitality and vigour until, with mutual passion, we cried out with joy at our simultaneous orgasm.

Moments later we tenderly kissed and our bodies entwined. From the next room we heard Pierre and Justine reach their passionate climax. Faces almost touching, Maurice and I smiled into each other's eyes. God was in his heaven and all was right with the world…

Content

Anonymous
Rosie: Her Intimate Diaries

Foreword

1. Early Days

2. My First Fuck

3. Off to School