Magna Carta.
Indeed, my kind cocksman uncle was left with merely enough to get to the West Indies and there support himself for a year and no more. Thus he left the book of confessions behind him-which I today sold for a nice sum- and this I shall soon dispatch by special packet to my beloved uncle.
But I have drifted afar from where I stood on my knees, my cock lying hard against the first maid's fair asshole. I shall take my reader back to the present. Were this maid to have access to somebody who had access to the bastardly Charles First, and were she to tell His Majesty of our fucking-claiming, of course, that I raped her! — my estate, such as it is, would be confiscated by the Crown, and I'd be lucky to escape the Tower, where are a few of my good young friends today, sentenced for life in solitary confinement for a crime that, under Queen Bess, would have been of no consequence, at all!
And this maid begged me to put my organ in her anus, to prod and push and lance it forward until it rode high and pushing in her colon, my rocks bouncing as I fucked against her cunt, wherein was already the index finger of my right hand, stroking and loving her Little Man.
Now she had another orgasm, her full buttocks shivering with sexual delight. I heard a low, happy moaning break her lips. At that moment, too, her asshole opened due to her passion-and into it my cock moved, sliding in its greasy bed, with her anus, trained and willing, opening and closing, trying to pull my prick in her to my very bag!
I felt warmth surround my penis. A great happiness speared me. My left hand gripped her hip, rounded and smooth, and my strong body went back and forth, a crink in my back as I bent over her back, my penis going in and out of her grasping and releasing anus.
I looked down. I felt pride. A lovely ass lay even with my cock. My organ rocked in, out; now brown streaked it, for she evidently was filled with excrement, having not yet done her daily chore.
I felt my bulb push through a heaviness. That would be the main body of her excrement, snug in her colon. I watched my penis come out, out, out-and still out… it seemed to come out for some minutes. Finally, only my knob hung to her anus, and the strong cheek muscles there twisted my bulb, massaging it and loving it before, once again, my penis moved in, in, in, and still in, and again my hand, anchored in her cunt, felt the roughness of my sac, covered with hair and small in this, my great hour of human achievement!
Oh, how we fucked! She gasped and I felt wind break around my prick; her sweet fart wafted upward, perfume in my straining nostrils My organ pushed down hard on the base of her colon. Thus I massaged her vulva and womb, for the womb and vulva lies close to the colon, as anybody who knows the least bit about a woman's anatomy knows.
How her asshole's strong lips pulled my penis, and how her ovaries discharged again and again! Whiteness ran down the insides of her full thighs, and my hand was completely white and sticky.
I felt passion rise in me, my testicles growing ready to launch my semen into her colon, and then she cried, “M'lord, m'lord! Your cock, sir, in my cunt-and hurry, for I feel another coming!”
Frankly, I was tired of her anus, for I am the type who tires soon of one sexual position, for I find in variety a spicy diet. Therefore I quickly withdrew from her top orifice and as hurriedly transfer to her lower opening, noticing in the removal and entrance that delicious brown markings, watery and perfume-filled, streaked my manly lance.
Then, my sword was in her to its hilt, my testicles dancing now on thin air. But she, as usual, reached back and, with fond fingers, began gently massaging my stone, as was her delightful habit.
Some women-even experienced whores-cannot massage a man's boulders correctly; they are too rough, even though they try to be gentle. A man's testicles are very, very touchy. This maid, though, knew how to love them, her fingers fairy whisps against my sac.
“Women were made to please men,” she murmured, delirious with happiness.
I thought, I wish more women realized that fact. What a more happy world we would have.
“No woman can be in a happier position than the one I am in,” she then whispered, talking to herself in her sexual delirium.
I thought of Lady Haversock, usually reserved, very cold and aloof, in a similar position last night, my penis-. Then I remembered the stages lurching through the fog, the one behind catching the one in front, and I had been in the one in front, and behind me-
I deliberately shoved such thoughts from my brain, concentrating on the ample buttocks pitching and falling, my penis buried to the sac in the mass of long, smooth hair.
Needless to say, this maid was a good whore. Why shouldn't she be? She'd been a mere sixteen when she'd come to serve my uncle, who had initiated her into the simple joys of sex the first day she entered his gracious employment.
The second day after her coming I, a mere youth, stabbed her four times in one hour, for sex had lanced and darted through both our young bodies.
Whenever she failed to flow, our family doctor eased her in abortion, but one time-when I was a mere twenty-four-my uncle and I toured to India and were gone a year. When we returned, we found her close to birth of child.
She confessed willingly that neither my uncle or I were the father, for time's passage made this event an absolute surety; the parish priest had bedded her and impregnated her.
In due time, her child-a boy-was delivered. The priest, true to his profession, took the child, his son, and placed him in an orphanage of his faith, the priest later boasting, in his cups, that his son was the only child in the orphanage who
This maid stood high now in church ranks, having lain with the bishop but a year ago, his fat holiness riding her huge breasts, his penis buried unchurchlike deep in her pulling, jerking cunt.
Later she reported that the bishop had even a smaller cock than had the priest, whom she related had a very small penis.
Thus we fucked, she and I, for the hundredth time-if not more? — and my merry prick made merry sound in her merry cunt, the lips of her opening trying at all times, to pull my wand from me, roots and all. And then, when the pulling drove me into seventh bliss', the friction stopped and my cock, lancing ahead, stormed the door between vagina and womb, my knob being bent against such resistance.
“I miss your sweet uncle,” she panted.
I took a strong inward stroke, her vulva going in and out around my pointed plunger. “And what do you miss about him?” I teased.
“His huge cock, naturally. Oh, you massage good that time, darling. Your knob-it is so huge-how it pulls inside of me. Yes, I miss the fair prick of your cocksman uncle.”
She had long boasted that of the many pricks that had lanced her that of my uncle was the most educated. She openly admitted my prick was the largest she'd ever taken, but that I lacked the suave cocksman technique of my West India bound uncle.
“Will not my prick suffice?” I asked.
A motherly concern entered her sweet voice. “I did not say that to offend you, m'lord. You are a cocksman supreme, although as I have stated you are not the expert that your uncle is, but in time- and with much practice and intelligent application — I do believe you shall rise to your uncle's great ability, m'lord. Oh, I come again, huh?
“How I cream your prick, m'lord!”
By now my lance sliding in her vagina had assumed a sound of happy suction, her cunt lips grabbing and releasing, a merry unison between us as we fornicated, my hands hard on her waist, fingers digging her smooth flesh.
“May I break wind, m'lord?”
“Why do you expel so much gas when being taken?”
“I do not know. I do know though that I come from a line of loud farting people. I remember lying in the single room in which we seventeen family members lived and hearing my mother fart loud and often in the cold dawn as my father mounted her.
“Then later, when my older brother mounted my big sister, sister too broke wind often and heavily. My aunts-all fourteen of them-were reported to be heavy wind breakers when receiving sexual attention.”
