be herself. I could only wish the same happiness for lovely Molly Bashe, whose Gorgon of a mother probably stood in the way of true love; and I advised the blushing Molly to go her own way and to flirt with eligible gentlemen in the hope that she might be able to lure one on her own terms to her legal bed.
They dressed and bade us farewell, but somehow I had a suspicion that this was not the last we should hear from Molly Bashe and her lovely companion.
… And now finally, dear reader, I have to tell you of the diverting surprise which my own Alice planned for me just a week ago. It is still so fresh and vivid in my memory that even when Alice and I are aged and infirm, our eyes will sparkle at the thought of it.
Connie Blunt had been invited to tea, unbeknownst to me, by my lovely spouse, and Wilhelmina had come with her mistress. I had been in the town on an errand, and returned at about four o’clock to hear giggling and whispering in the salon. When I entered, what was my surprise to find lovely Alice and Connie in their peignoirs, surrounding the blushing Wilhelmina whom they had reduced to only her chemise, a long garment which fell over her loins just sufficiently to cover the sweet mound of love. Her long legs were bare and she was not even shod, and she looked like the beggar maid of King Copetua of the legend. Lost in admiration, I stood there gawking till Alice espied me and gasped, “Oh, Connie, he’s come back sooner than we thought, just as we were going to make Wilhelmina walk the plank!”
“What in the world are you girls talking about?” I exclaimed.
“Shall we tell him, Alice?” Connie giggled, with an arch glance at me.
“I think you had best do so, Connie, or you may find yourself back in the Snuggery squirming under the kisses of a birch,” I threatened her.
“Oh very well, sir, since you take that injured tone,” the lovely golden-haired widow retorted saucily. “Alice and I found the most wonderful book at Mr. Royce’s. He was loath to let us even glance at it but Alice and I insisted, and we told him that we were both married and that our husbands enjoyed the stimulus of a spicy volume.”
Now I had often visited the shop of Josiah Royce, a venerable old gentleman whose zest for life had not vanished with his mounting years, and I had from time to time obtained certain entertaining works on the theme of love in its manifold and multiple phases and facets. “Pray tell, what book is this?” I demanded.
“Oh, Jack, it’s the most exciting naughty book ever!” my lovely bride exclaimed as she ran to a tabouret and brought to me a buckram volume, with the title handsomely tooled in gold letters: Walk the Plank, My Beauty! by Jean de la Beque.
“I vow I had not heard of this title, though I know the author well,” I exclaimed as I leafed through the volume. The line illustrations at once made my blood boil. And the very first illustration I saw explained the title: it was on the deck of a pirate ship, with a long narrow wooden plank thrust out over the side and above the stormy waters. A lovely dark-haired girl, her eyes blindfolded, her wrists tied behind her back, clad only in a short shift and her legs bare, stood on this plank with two bearded pirates below grasping her hips on either side, apparently readying her for her walk into eternity. One saw also the greedy faces of the crew avidly watching the spectacle. I could conjure that this fair maid had been captured on some galleon in the hands of the bloodthirsty pirates and, preferring death to dishonor, was about to walk the plank.
“It’s magnificent,” I felicitated my wife, “and I am delighted that you found such a treasure. But what surprises me most and delights me too is to find you about to enact a scene from this book. Alice, you continue to surprise me with your inventiveness.”
“Aren’t you glad now that you didn’t marry Marion? After all, she had a husband once, and lost him, whereas I never had one until you,” Alice smilingly rejoined as she came to me and kissed me hotly on the mouth. “Yes, my love, we were going to blindfold Willy and make her walk the plank.”
“Because she would not yield?” I laughed.
“Oh no, because she is going to,” Connie laughingly responded, at which Wilhelmina blushed and gasped and lowered her eyes.
“It is an anniversary present for you, my love,” Alice whispered into my ear, “Wilhelmina is so grateful that she wants to give herself to you. She is sorry that she can’t bring her virginity, sir, but you know what happened to her at the orphanage. So we are going to make her walk the plank right into your arms.”
Oh fortunate mortal, he whom the goddess Venus blesses with her divine favors! And briefly I will tell you what this “plank” turned out to be. After blindfolding sweet Willy, Connie and Alice led her like a sacrificial lamb into my bedchamber, where indeed they had laid a wooden plank which ended at the very side of the bed itself, and they made barefooted Willy march along this plank whilst I sat on the edge of the bed with open arms to take her finally into them and to lift her tenderly upon the bed, remove the blindfold and then silence her sweet gasps with a long and passionate kiss.
But they had yet one final surprise for me. Even as I felt myself thrust into the tight sweet confines of Willy’s cunt, I felt a stinging and yet not unpleasant heat attack my bottom, and when I glanced up, I saw that my wife was playfully switching me with a supple birch, whilst Connie held a battledore.
So, dear reader, in a sense the tables were at last turned upon me, the conquering male. I who most enjoyed smack-and-whip-fucking was given a taste of my own medicine, but I vow I found it almost as exciting as my own improvisation on the theme!
And this must conclude my saga. If the years ahead are as exhilarating as these first few months as Alice’s consort, I shall have have nothing to reproach the goddess for. I shall burn a candle to her each day to be spared my virility, so that I may zealously perform in her honor!
