between her palms until it regained its full length and strength and rose as hard as iron against my belly. 'Can you carry on for another fuck?' she asked anxiously. When I nodded my assent she gave my sturdy staff a frisk final frigging before laying herself down on a nearby couch. She then told me to come over and lie on top of her and to straddle her body with my legs. I did as I was told and Sally took hold of my pulsating cock, pulling me forwards and I assumed that she was going to suck my throbbing tool. But no, she placed the sticky shaft in the cleft between her breasts and squeezed them around my pole. 'Go on, Master Rupert, fuck my big titties!' she whispered and I began a further lesson in the delights of l'art de faire l'amour. I was not over-sure as how best to continue but instead let nature take its course. I rocked my hips to pump my rigid rod up and down the snug cleft of Sally's breasts. It was extraordinarily sensuous, especially when she leaned her face forward and took the crown of my cock and began licking and lapping it as it moved to and fro between her breasts.
'I'm coming! I'm coming!' she wailed, one hand now dipping between her legs to finger her pussey and the other teasing my balls and arse. 'Oh yes, yes, yes, you're making me come by fucking my titties!' She threw back her head as she continued moaning and her white teeth gleamed as her lips parted and her eyes closed in ecstasy as she spent profusely. Her blood was still up, though, and the last thing she wanted to do now was to stop this grand sport. But would my now tiring cock be able to continue with this now frenzied fucking? As I now know, there is no strong performance without a touch of fanaticism in the performer. I held on as I found new strength to slide my pole backwards and forwards. She clamped her lips around my knob and sucked hard, sending little electric currents along the shaft. Then she released my knob from her mouth and pushed my shoulders upwards and told me to be still. Who was I to disobey such a sweetly spoken command? So I lay back and let Sally clamber over me. First she made herself comfortable, sitting astride me and trailing those magnificent breasts up and down my torso as she leaned forward so that her tawny nipples flicked exquisitely across my skin.
Then she lifted her hips and crouched over my truncheon which stood high in the air with her cunney directly above my knob. She took hold of my staff and encouragingly rubbed the pulsating pole before cleverly positioning my uncapped helmet so that it pressed directly against her clitty. Rotating her body, she edged forward slightly to allow my rigid rod to enter her. Ever so slowly she lifted and lowered her sopping pussey and each time she sank downwards my cock went deeper and higher inside her until our bodies simply melted away in sheer delight as she lay sated upon me, my prick so fully ensheathed inside her cunt that our pubic hairs were enmeshed together. I heard Frank draw in his breath sharply and turned my head to see my friend sitting on the edge of his chair, his big prick visibly swelling as he frigged it up to its fullest stiffness. 'Go on Rupert, fuck her juicy cunt,' he muttered. 'And when you've finished perhaps I can have a go!' Our senses were now at fever pitch. My upward strokes excited her into taking up a fresh, fierce little fucking rhythm as she thrust down to meet my movements to cram every inch of hard cock inside her cunney. Now we both felt the first unmistakable tremors of an approaching spend. Shudder after shudder ran through Sally's quivering body as she half sat back again so that I could best cup her plump breasts in my hands. She gave a choking cry and began to ride up and down on me with a renewed vigour, forcing herself down even harder on my cock. It even crossed my mind that her cries might attract attention from outside the library! Then I felt that magical first stirrings as my spunk began to force its way up my distended shaft. Sally sensed this and immediately she ceased all movement, her cunt now halfway down my cock as she reached down to kiss me. Twice more she arrested our spends until she was fully ready for her own orgasm. She moved up and down with shorter, faster thrusts and I responded with similar upward jerks. Her mouth was open and she was gaping and moaning as we reached the very brink of ecstasy.
Suddenly her cunney muscles tightened about me in a long, rippling seizure that ran from the base to the very root of my cock. Three times more this clutching spasm travelled the entire length of my shaft and then just as Sally screamed out: 'Yes, Yes, Yes! I've come, I've come! Now shoot your spunk, young Rupert!' in a near-delirium, grinding her pussey against me as the frothy jism forced its way out of my knob, hot and seething into every nook and cranny of her cunt.
As we slowly subsided, panting and near collapse, we lay entwined in an intimate jumble of bare flesh. Though I could hear a series of rapid knocks on the door (thank goodness Sally had locked it!), a warm wave of fatigue washed over me and I just could not bring myself to even answer the insistent unknown caller. Fortunately Frank was still compos mentis and I could not help smiling as he heaved himself out of his chair and padded naked across to the door, stiff frigging his stiff cock which was raised as high as a flagpole against his tummy. 'Who's there?' he asked. 'It's Goldhill, sir,' came the voice of our old butler. 'I'm sorry to disturb you but I have a message to give to Master Rupert from his father.' Even at the early age of fifteen and a half, Frank was one of the most quick-witted chaps I have ever known. With only a brief pause, itself covered by a clearing of his throat, he replied: 'Ah, well, Goldhill, I'm afraid Rupert's just fallen asleep and I don't really want to disturb him which is why I locked the door. You see, he was complaining about having a slight headache and hopefully he'll sleep it off.'
'I distinctly thought I heard noises corning from the library.'
'So you did,' said Frank. 'Rupert was talking in his sleep and I think he must have been having a nightmare! Is the matter of great urgency or can you come back in ten minutes?' So thanks to Frank's fast-thinking we had time to dress ourselves and for Sally to sneak out of the library, undetected by Goldhill or any of the other servants. When Goldhill made his second appearance ten minutes later as requested, I made a great show of yawning and stretching out my arms. 'Frank has told me that you have a message from Papa,' I said.
'I hope that it wasn't too urgent as I had a beastly pri- I mean, headache and needed forty winks. But I'm all right now, thank goodness,' I added though I noticed that this had not prevented the butler from shooting me a suspicious look. 'Yes, Master Frank told me about it. I am glad you have recovered so quickly. The Colonel and Mrs. Mountjoy are attending the annual general meeting of the Yorkshire Society For The Promotion Of Science in Harrogate and they have asked me to tell you that they are expecting a visitor to arrive here early this afternoon. On their behalf, they ask you to extend every hospitality to this gentleman as your parents do not expect to return until about half past three as they are taking luncheon today with Lord and Lady Beasant in Bilton. Our new guest, who will be staying here for a few days, is a Mr. Frederick Nolan, an American gentleman from California. You may be interested to know, Master Rupert, that Mr. Nolan will be bringing with him one of these new-fangled cinematographs. If you know what I mean, sir, these are the machines that take moving pictures.' 'Moving pictures,' echoed Frank. 'Well, what a coincidence! I was reading about them in the Manchester Guardian only this morning. Is this Mr. Nolan going to give us an exhibition of his work?' 'Yes, sir,' intoned Goldhill.
'Indeed it was Mr. Nolan who wrote the article you read in the newspaper. He is in Yorkshire to make a film on the Dales which he intends to show to audiences in America.' 'Wow, perhaps we can be in it?' said Frank excitedly. 'Wouldn't that be great?' 'I doubt it as the sight of your face would crack the camera lens!' I replied with a laugh. 'Ha, ha, ha-well, you can laugh but I'm jolly well going to ask him if I can help in any way,' responded my chum.
'Goldhill, is there anything we must prepare for Mr. Nolan's arrival?'
'No, sir,' said the butler. I will be sure to let you both know when Mr. Nolan arrives.' Goldhill did not have to carry out this task, for we were so keen to meet Mr. Nolan that we bolted through luncheon and when the doorbell rang just after two o'clock Frank and I raced to the front door to welcome our American guest in style. I opened the door to a handsome gentleman in the prime of life, perhaps a mite shorter in height than the average, dressed in a snappy summer suit and carrying a silver topped walking stick. 'Good afternoon, sir.
You must be Mr. Nolan, the cinematographer. Welcome to Albion Towers.'
That's right, young man, Fred Nolan at your service, all the way from the USA. And who may you be?' 'I'm Rupert Mountjoy, sir, the Colonel's son. And this is my friend, Frank Folkestone.' 'Glad to meet you, Frank,' said the genial stranger, beckoning to his driver to unload the cart which contained his luggage and two large chests which no doubt contained all his cinematographic equipment. 'I'll have someone bring in all your cases, sir,' I said. 'Well, thank you, my boy, but I'll supervise the operation, if you don't mind. My cameras must be handled very carefully.' After we had helped Mr.
Nolan to settle in, he gratefully accepted the offer of some refreshment. Goldhill brought in a large whisky and soda and Mrs.
Randall provided a platter of cold roast beef sandwiches and a pot of hot black coffee. I apologised for my parents' absence but Mr. Nolan waved aside my words: 'No need to apologise, you've done me proud, young man, though I look forward to meeting your parents. Now before they come I'd very much like to take a walk around your estate whilst the rain holds off.' 'Are you planning the scenario for a film?'
I asked. 'Yup, that's the idea. My boy, motion pictures are in their infancy and the three-minute film will, I predict, soon be overtaken by full-length plays which will be shown in special movie theatres,' he replied. We must
