All three helped to disrobe Polly, who was soon as naked as Eve when first presented to Adam, and they opened the folding doors into a bedroom, where she was laid down on the outside of the quilt, blushing and quivering with excitement as Lord Rodney, equally reduced to a state of nudity, got between her legs, and lay over her with his stiff machine throbbing against her belly.
'Look at his laziness,' said Bessie, 'he isn't even going to get into her when he knows she is dying for a good rogering — only wait a moment till I get my things off.'
This was quickly done, and taking up a good thick bunch of birch, she let him have it hard on his brawny rump. It took a good many cuts ere he would begin to do his duty, but the effects were plainly visible on his pego, which stiffened and swelled immensely, till Polly, impatient for him to begin, took hold of it herself, and directing the fiery head to her burning slit, it very soon began to slip in, she was so well oiled by the anticipatory spendings she had not been able to restrain.
Miss Jones handled her bum-tickler with vigour, scientifically applying the twigs so that they not only cut well into his lordship's buttocks, but every now and then the tips of the twigs caught him well in between the tender inner surface of his thighs, touching up the rough hairy back part of his balls, and even inflicting little stinging touches on the lips of Polly's fanny, making her and his lordship writhe about and f-k away with a perfect abandon of amorousness, till the sheets were saturated under her bottom by the profusion of mingled spunk which oozed from her c — t at every thrust of his pego.
Now Bessie dropped the birch and, taking a huge dildoe from a drawer in the dressing table, fitted it onto herself, and proceeded to f-k Mrs. Swipes, who threw up her clothes and took in the big india-rubber instrument with the greatest of pleasure, as she reclined backwards on a sofa.
'Look, Rodney,' exclaimed Bessie, 'you can f-k me dog fashion, as I give the old bawd the pleasure she is so fond of!'
Thus challenged his lordship withdrew his still rampant and reeking p — k from Polly's quim, and told her to pay his backside for the insult; then, getting behind Bessie, he clasped his arms round her loins, till he could frig her in front by getting his fingers under the straps of the dildoe, his well oiled p — k slipping into her longing c-t from behind.
As for Polly this conjunction, and her still unsatisfied desires, made her so randy, that like a cow which wants the bull she clasped his arse in the same way he had Bessie, rubbing her spending c — t on his backside, and frigging his prick in front with her hands as it poked in and out of Bessie.
After this bout his lordship was fain to confess himself quite used up, but fortunately for our heroine, whom the scene had left in a state of raging unsatisfied desire, a late visitor to the house introduced as a friend, a real prince from the west coast of Africa, and they persuaded her to have him for a bed-fellow for the night. He was a real prince, and champion of love between the sheets, his tremendous pego was so untiring in its exertions that next morning at breakfast where they all met again, the landlady asked Polly, who looked a little blase, 'if she still felt to want any more f-king.'
'Good God, no!' ejaculated poor Polly, 'his monster of? p-k hasn't left a drop of spend in me, and he was coming again and again all night, and even just now would have another put in to give an appetite for breakfast; besides, what do you think? his p — k is the blackest part about him, and it did make me love him so. White men are not in it with such a prince of f-kers as he is.'
Mrs. Swipes expressing her desire to just for once feel such a champion in her, King Cuntaboo was only too glad to oblige her, and Bessie afterwards, when he saw how her eyes glistened at the sight of his coal-black battering ram.
Lord Rodney and the other gentleman very much enjoyed the scene, handling his p — k and putting it in for them, his lordship making some very learned remarks on the capability of the female organ to accommodate itself to the biggest p — ks, as he saw how easily the women managed to take in all King Cuntaboo could give, notwithstanding its enormous size.
Mr. Verney did not appear a bit jealous, but, finding our Polly so well supplied with gallants, his visits gradually became more and more rare, till at length finding she was quite capable of taking care of herself, he kept away altogether.
She was such a favourite that in a few months she saved enough money to furnish a house for herself, and was so clever in her profession, as well as select in her circle, that
she became one of the most fashionable and expensive bits about town. Noted for the extraordinary versatility of her ideas, every visitor to her cosmopolitan boudoir went away delighted.
An incident in the experience of the erst barmaid will fitly conclude this tale of her amorous adventures.
Taking a walk early one summer's morning she entered Kensington Gardens and sat down by herself on a chair in a rather secluded spot, closing her eyes as various pleasant reveries floated before her vision.
'What a lovely leg! Alas! Get thee hence, Satan!' she heard ejaculated in low trembling tones, and suddenly opening her eyes, fixed them on an elderly gentleman, whom she at once recognized as a particularly pious Earl.
'Excuse me, young lady, I really thought you were asleep; may I present you with a little tract, it will show what dangerous temptations we men are subject to from the attitudes or coquettish dress of the pretty girls of the present day — do read it!'
She held out her hand and glanced her eye over its contents — as follows:
'Young women, your dress is often the creator of your thoughts and feelings. When modesty has presided at your toilette, the looks of men have neither the boldness nor the fire of desire. Kept within the limits of discretion and respect, they do not offer to your imagination the always tempting image of pleasure — and your sensibility remains in a calm, favourable to your virtue. A dress, calculated to inflame the passions of men, produces a contrary effect. Their countenances tell you soon what you ought not to be told. Why do you blush if you do not understand their language? How could you blush if that language did not force in your heart a sentiment it is not decent for you to indulge? When you are in a dishabille, that half conceals and half discovers your charms, you generally avoid the company of men. Is it virtue or fear that makes you so cautious? It is fear! You are conscious that, in those circumstances, men have over your virtue an advantage, of which all your prudence might not deprive them. Should Nature happen to be silent, vanity would speak, and bring the same rapturous confusion into your heads.
The transports of a lover are so flattering-his admiration is so eloquent a praise of our charms — there is such a life in his looks and actions — we are, in our hearts, so inclined to let him praise and admire. Young women, I say it again, sip not in the intoxicating cup, turn your sight from it, in your flight only you can find your safety.'
Her face flushed with indignation.
'Now, sir, where's one of the park-keepers? I intend to give you in charge for an indecent assault — you whoremongering, religious hypocrite. Now, which will you do, be locked up, or come with me to my house, where for a?20 note you shall have such pleasure as you seem quite unacquainted with.'
His face turned white and red, and his knees fairly shook under him, as he stammered — 'The sight of your leg quite upset me. I am so sorry if that tract has offended you; you must excuse me, I wouldn't be seen in your company; my reputation would be blasted for ever.'
Then turning to go, but Polly almost brought him on his marrowbones, as she seized him by the arm, and hissed in his ear — 'Where you go, I go — is it to be the police station or to my house? Expect no pity or respect for a hypocrite's reputation — what do I care for that after your gratuitous insult!'
The poor old man was lost, and making the best of a bad situation, elected, as a sensible man would do, to go along with the beautiful whore.
So finding him submissive she told him he could hold his handkerchief to his face if ashamed to be seen walking arm and arm with her.
They walked out of the park, and hailing a cab were soon driven to her pretty little house, but not before the pressures of her electrical fingers had already raised a cock-stand for the old man, who sighed and protested in vain against such wickedness.
However, Earl Goodman sensibly recovered himself as soon as the retreat of love was reached, and he felt safe from observation in Polly's elegant and luxurious boudoir. It
was amusing to her to watch the variations of his face as picking up a decidedly naughty book he eagerly scanned its contents, at first his withered face flushed a little, then his eyes fairly started from his head, and she
