“Why should I-an unmarried man-be in bed with a woman?” I asked innocently. “Men and women sleep together only after marriage, you know.”
He laughed uproariously, head thrown back. “That element exists only in my stupid-but well-paying-novels, you know.” I stood up and I caught him admiring my dangling long penis.
Was that jealousy lurking in his slitted eyes? I am very proud, of course, of my penis, for when erected it is a huge tool, even if I do in all modesty make such a statement myself.
I am not alone in saying my erection is very long-extra long-and very huge-extra huge, in fact. Various women, whores and respectable, can point to the same truth, and have done so to me on more than one occasion.
“How many women have you now delved that enormous thing into?” the writer asked, completely without modesty-a trait, they tell me, of authors.
But one must have patience with idiots and authors, I have been told. “I do not keep a stud book.”
“Speaking of books, I understand you are writing a book?”
How had he heard of this? I knew, instantly. While in bed with my head maid-a buxom, tight-cunted female-I had inadvertently, in the height of sexual passion, admitted I did some writing in my spare time.
She, in turn, had passed this on to this author's maid, for servants never keep secrets (are they supposed to?) and know what is happening in a house long before the master knows… in many cases.
“Yes, I dabble at scribbling.”
“You should have a solid strong plot and good characterization,” and my friend was off on a tirade about writing, something each author loves to talk about-the only thing one will talk about, in fact.
I did not tell him that my writing was not a book but a series of episodes, the most interesting that had happened to me in my twenty-eight years on this earth.
And let's face it, gentle reader-the most interesting things that happen to a cocksman-or an ordinary man-are concerned with the female sex, unless one is a 'man's man' similar to the crumbling animals parading as men who hang around Soho and Charing Cross.
And I would judge that the most interesting points in the life of a human female would be when impaled on the tip of a man's penis, rigid and round and sliding slowly into the warm depths of her vagina to storm the very gates of her fluid secreting womb, are they not?
“You appear tired,” my friend finally said, having finished a twenty-three minute lecture on the art of creative writing.
I chuckled inwardly but did not relate to him what had happened last night, and my blood went cold again with fear-for who cares to face a loaded horse pistol-and death-over no more than a woman's buttocks, plunging downward and then rising to massage to jetting expression a man's hard bayonet.
“I slept well last night, thank you.”
Finally, the bore left. I sipped my tea, thinking of Lady Haversock's creamy buttocks, my hands curved and grasping under them, my forefingers playing in her anus.
My erection grew, for I have a powerful imagination. I summoned my head maid to my bedroom and she came willingly, for she is truly a lover of the cock-the more penis she gets, the more she wants.
I shall not bore my reader with stupid details. I shall state only that she came purring into my arms, her nipples already hard beneath her starched uniform, and her hips moved in and back, pushing against my cock and driving my testicles to demanding the use of her wide and strong hips.
When I untied her belt, her uniform fell open and, lo and behold, she wore nothing under it but herself, huge of breast, dark and protruding of nipple, her navel clean and sweet as Eve's goblet. And below her lovely navel was the flat top line of her very dense black pubic hair for she was very hirsute, her anus being ringed with long silky hair, an odd thing for invariably assholes carry short, broken, stubby stiff hair.
While I had divested her of clothing, she had done the same to me and now she gripped my sword, sliding the foreskin back and forth, her soft hand loving my bulb, playing with my pee-hole.
We were kissing stronger now. I knew this was an error but passion holds me swiftly and twists me into a supple servant not to my thoughts but to my testicles. One should not kiss and make love to a hireling such as a maid, you know.
One should fuck one's maids-or other household female help-without compunction, for they are of the low caste, you know, and expect only fucking from their master-not kisses and playing with breasts, as I now foolishly did to this big-breasted, cock-hungry English wench.
A cocksman-what an uncouth word-should save his love making and kisses for the genteel, the lovely, the pure-such as Lady Haversock, small and dainty and with sugar sweetness of manner, not for a torrid house- wench.
Again, I remembered Her Ladyship's wide but solid buttocks, white and dainty, with their huge forest of dark pubic hair hiding her sweet small cunt that had not produced an heir for Lord Haversock, much as he publicly declared he wished his wife with child.
Again, I remembered the horse pistol. I heard its explosion again, cutting hard the London fog. At that moment I must have shuddered for my maid murmured, “Darling, are you cold? You shivered. Or does the lust for my thighs burn my Master's soul, making him rough and ready for our sweet secret session of love?”
I stand five eleven in stocking feet and she but a mere five two or three, but she somehow leaped upward, my cock in her hand and, as she came down, I jabbed her momentarily in her thatch.
I felt the soft, damp edges of her vulva, and then her cunt had slid past and she stood on all fours. I put my arm around her naked waist and naked we two walked to my huge bed.
As we walked, I glanced back. The full mirror showed us clearly-my narrow buttocks, her womanly buttocks. Her buttocks lifted, fell, danced, pivoted with each mincing step.
Watching, I ran my hand behind her and my thumb, separating her buttocks, found her warm full anus, tickling it with my nail. She grabbed me harder, not realizing I watched her ass wriggle and attempt to have my thumb inserted in her asshole.
“M'lord-”
“Yes, m'bitch?”
“Does m'lord wish to fuck me in the asshole?”
Foul mouthed whore! Low lived, without education, culture-and then I remembered last night on top of naked Lady Haversock, my prick in her to the testicles, and her Ladyship panting, “Fuck me harder, my love! Deeper, deeper, into my cunt-oh, give me all your cock, my sweet.
“And when we get done this way, drive it up my ass. Put that big knob in my asshole. I want to feel your cock slide in and out of my rectum, my sweet, my long-cocked love!”
Lady Haversock's panting made this maid's most fluent cursing seem like a Sunday school session….
“Do you want it first up your ass?” I asked, realizing that I, under passion's panting lash, talked as foul of mouth as did this prick-starved wench.
“Yes, up the asshole, for it tickles so good around the hairs, m'lord. But you must keep a finger in my cunt and stroke my Little Gentleman and anger him so much he spits whiteness back at you, for the purpose of getting fucked is to have an orgasm, you know.”
She broke from me and ran around my bed, which is placed in the middle of my big room in my huge apartment-for my father left me this apartment house, and its income is good each month.
“Grab me, darling,” she panted.
I ran after her, cock extended. It was a game we played. I knew full well what she wanted. She circled the huge bed twice before I caught her. I did not catch her in normal fashion, by the shoulders or waist.
I captured her in our own special way. I ran with thumb up and forefinger extended. My forefinger ran between her thighs. I crooked it and caught it in her already flowing cunt.
Simultaneously, my thumb lanced ahead. It broke through the crack of her buttocks. I felt her asshole and then my thumb was deep in her anus. I held her the way the Italians hold their
“Woe unto me,” she cried happily.
She tried to move ahead. I held her sternly. Her bare feet slipped on the heavy and thick Madras carpet. I pulled her toward the bed. Her buttocks came with mock unwillingness.
Bodily, I swung her naked loveliness onto the bed on all fours, her delectable rump sticking upward, crack
