have looked dubious for Mr. Nolan continued: 'I see you doubt me. Well, boys, I'll go further, I will go so far as to predict that motion pictures will in your lifetime be seen in colour and you'll be able to hear the spoken word coming out from the screen! Ah, I see you smile-well, we shall see, we shall see.
Just remember that people laughed at Mr. Edison's idea for a phonograph. 'But that probably won't happen until the dawn of the new century. Right now, how would you like to come out with me to look for a suitable location for my film?' 'I should say,' said Frank with alacrity, 'especially if we could later watch you make your film.' 'Of course, of course,' said Mr. Nolan cordially. 'If you like, you may even appear in it!' The promise of such a treat was more than enough to get us out of doors and we tramped round our garden until Mr. Nolan stopped and said: This looks like the perfect spot. I want to take* a shot of the house before pointing the camera at a tea-party taking place on the lawn. If the weather is good enough and your parents are amenable, we will made a start directly after breakfast.' My parents arrived home soon afterwards and, like Frank and myself, they thoroughly enjoyed the company of the gregarious American who regaled us with a flood of anecdotes about his fascinating life. Mr. and Mrs. Harbottle and their daughter Katie had also been invited to dine with us and I could see that Katie, a slim, attractive girl of twenty-one, who was sitting next to Mr. Nolan, was especially taken with his recounting of his adventures. It seemed that Mr. Nolan's late father was one of the railway magnates back in America and being the sole heir to a very considerable fortune had enabled his son to travel the world at his leisure. 'You must find it very dull here after New York, Rome, Paris and London, Mr.
Nolan,' sighed my Mama who unlike Papa, enjoyed the bustle of town life, having been brought up in London. He shook his head. 'Dull?
Not a bit of it, ma'am, it's a real pleasure to be able to enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. Why, in New York, or in any great city, I don't think it is possible to secure even six hours of undisturbed sleep. I certainly never achieved this last week in London. I can't blame anyone for the choir of cats that decided to hold a concert on the roof of my hotel but I could have cheerfully strangled the two cabbies who careered down Marylebone High Street shouting imprecations to each other that I cannot repeat here!'
As he paused to take a glass of champagne from Goldhill, I bent under the table to retrieve my napkin which had fallen to the floor.
And what a shock I had as I looked across to see that Katie Harbottle, who was sitting opposite Mr. Nolan, and who was a most pleasant but quiet and shy girl in company, had taken off her right shoe and was running her stockinged toes up and down Mr. Nolan's left leg! Yet the American continued this little tale as if nothing untoward was happening even though Katie's foot, hidden from general view, was now caressing his inner thigh and was rising higher towards his groin with every stroke! I could hardly remain under the table but, as I straightened up, Mr. Nolan continued as if nothing untoward was happening: “Then one has to cope with the rumbling thunder made by the dustmen's carts, to say nothing of the infernal row made by drunken revellers pouring out of the clubs. Oh, I could think of a hundred other sleep-preventers as well.' 'I can think of a better sleep-preventer than all that-Sally the parlourmaid sucking my cock!' muttered Frank, who was sitting besides me. I dropped my napkin, deliberately this time, and when I bent down to pick it up, I drew a sharp breath to prevent an exclamation of amazement escape from my lips. Katie was still rubbing one foot down Mr. Nolan's leg, but now he had brazenly opened the buttons of his flies, and this was allowing Katie to wriggle the toes of her other foot inside his trousers, stroking them against his naked rampant penis which stood up stiffly out of his under-shorts. With difficulty I suppressed the urge to succumb to hysterics, though I wondered wildly how the two of them would extricate themselves from this compromising situation.
Surprisingly enough, it proved far less awkward than I envisaged for when the time came for the ladies to retire, Katie simply slipped her shoes back on and left the room together with the two older ladies.
Mr. Nolan did not rise fully as the ladies left the table but crouched over his chair, hastily buttoning his trousers as Goldhill came in with a tray of liqueurs. 'Do you belong to any clubs here in England, Mr. Nolan?' asked my father, as Goldhill poured out cognac for us all (Frank and I were allowed a small measure as a special treat) and Mr. Nolan nodded his head. 'Yes, I belong to the Reform and the Travellers and my club in Washington, D.C., the Beesknees, has connections with the Jim Jam in London.' 'The Jim Jam,' said my father thoughtfully. 'I don't think I've ever heard of that establishment.' Mr. Nolan looked quickly at Frank and myself and hurriedly changed the subject: 'I don't get there very often, Colonel.
Tell me now, how do you occupy your time since you left the Indian Army?' 'I'm enjoying the life of an English country gentleman,' replied my father. 'Plenty of hunting, shooting and fishing, you know.' 'Are you keen on country pursuits, Mr. Nolan?' asked George Harbottle, Katie's father and the local squire who was perhaps the best shot in the entire county, a fact that was best kept from Mr.
Nolan whose only pursuit this evening was fucking the squire's daughter! 'As an American I'm always at ease in the great outdoors, sir, and have always been extremely fond of the country,' said Frederick Nolan with a smile. 'Well, it's true that he's extremely fond of cunt!' I said softly to Frank. 'Why, what are you talking about?' my friend whispered back. I quietly explained what I had seen going on underneath the table, which made Frank choke with laughter. 'Let us all in on the joke, boys,' said my father genially. Frank again showed his uncanny ability to manoeuvre his way out of a tight corner by explaining that the cognac had 'gone down the wrong way* and we sat quietly whilst the others finished their liqueurs. 'Shall we join the ladies?' said my father, rising from his seat and as neither guest had taken up my father's previous offer of a cigar, we trooped into the drawing room. Not surprisingly the conversation came round to Mr. Nolan's films and Frank and I exchanged a knowing glance when Katie Harbottle said: 'I'd very much like to see your equipment, Mr. Nolan.' 'Ah, that creates a slight problem,' said the cunning cinematographer, “You see, I have set everything up in my room and it would be rather difficult to bring it all downstairs.' Katie looked disappointed but Mrs. Harbottle said: 'I don't see why you could not go up to Mr. Nolan's room and see his equipment there.' 'I say, Enid-' spluttered her husband, but she imperiously waved away his protest. 'Really, George, by refusing Katie permission to go with Mr. Nolan you are, unwittingly of course, insulting them both! Do you feel that Mr. Nolan or your daughter would behave improperly just because they would be alone for fifteen minutes?' I wondered who was silently cheering Mrs. Harbottle's progressive views-my Mama, who had persuaded Mrs. Harbottle of the justice of the Suffragette cause (much to the squire's disgust!), or Katie and Frederick Nolan who I knew would like nothing better than to find themselves together in a private place and especially a bedroom!
So the young couple made good their escape and at the same time Frank and I were given leave to go and play ping pong on the new table my father had bought me for my birthday last February. On our way to the games room, I suddenly remembered that the other day I had noticed that the bats were missing so I said: 'Come downstairs, Frank and we'll find Goldhill. He'll know where the blinking bats have been put away.' Everyone on duty must have been in the kitchen as there was no member of staff to greet us at the foot of the stairs. However, we heard a girl giggling and then a short murmur coming from a room in front of us. That sounds like Goldhill,' I said so we followed the sounds and pushed open the door of the servants' sitting room. I don't know who was the most embarrassed, Frank and myself or Goldhill and Polly, the scullery maid. For the dark-haired girl was sprawled naked on the large sofa with Goldhill, who was still in uniform (except for his trousers and drawers which were lying over his ankles) slewing his prick in and out of her hairy pussey. At first we stood unseen as the butler's lean bottom cheeks pumped up and down while the couple rocked in time with their amorous exertion. Then Polly let out a little scream as she saw us standing then;, gaping at this lewd scene.
'Don't mind us, old fellow,' Frank called out. 'We'd much rather wait until you've finished before attending to us.' 'Yes, attend to Polly first, Goldhill,' I said, rather enjoying the butler's discomforture though I noted that Polly seemed little put out by the interruption. Tier need is greater than ours.' Polly giggled.
'Come on then, Mr. Goldhill, let's take up where we left off!' And to encourage him she turned over to lie face downwards, reaching across for a soft cushion to insert under her belly so that her hips and chubby rounded bum cheeks were raised high in the air. The butler shuffled between her legs and nudging her knees part, took his sizeable stalk in his hand. 'Are you ready then, Polly?' he asked and after receiving a quick nod of assent, he carefully guided his gleaming weapon into the crack between her bum cheeks, his knob brushing up against her cunney lips before sliding through them into the warm wetness of her welcoming cunt. I must say that Goldhill was no slouch when it came to the mark. As soon as his prick was safely ensheathed in Polly's pussey the butler began to fuck her at a slowish but regular pace and leaned forward so that his chest lay on Polly's back. He reached round to fiddle with her large tawny titties, holding them in thrall as he continued to slew his cock in and out of her sopping slit. Her backside slapped enticingly against his surprisingly muscular thighs as she slipped into the rhythm of fucking that he had established and he increased the pace, now forcefully pounding away as Polly wriggled in
