the Honourable Member had given no indication of amatory intent whilst he was speaking to me. I glared at the gentleman on my left but he was busily engaged in conversation with the lady on his own left flank…
The intruding foot continued its journey, rubbing sinuously against my leg, getting higher and higher and almost reaching my knee as Jeffrey concluded: 'Oh yes, m'dear, there will always be a place in the House for one chap who is a little cracked. He is there today, he was there fifty years ago and will doubtless be there fifty years hence.'
Yet still I could feel this mysterious foot which had insinuated itself between my feet and was now moving between my legs up to my knees. I glanced at Jeffrey and I could see that strange as it might be, it was indeed this handsome MP who, being a supple athlete, was moving his right leg in time to the movement I could feel underneath the table. I said nothing and he stopped caressing me with his foot until the ladies retired. I went straightaway to the powder room and when I emerged, he was standing in the hallway having taken his leave of Doctor Le Baigue and the other male guests in the dining room.
'I am bored by all the masculine talk in there,' he said lightly, pointing behind him. 'Why not join me upstairs for tete a tete coffee and liqueurs in Doctor Le Baigue's inner sanctum?'
'Will we not be missed?' I asked anxiously. 'Won't people start searching for us?'
'Unlikely, but even if they did, no guest would venture into Denis's little private room,' said Jeffrey cheerfully. 'It is so private that he fucks Kitty the chambermaid on Tuesday evenings and Betty Morgan the actress on Thursday afternoons here.'
'You are remarkably well-informed,' I said, trying to sound sophisticated rather than shocked at his frankness.
'Well, we are old friends and he often confides in me,' he replied simply, opening the door of the aforesaid room for me. Obviously, the rogue had prepared everything whilst I had been in the powder-room for there was a pot of steaming coffee on a gas burner and a fine selection of liqueurs arranged on a small table.
'Do you fuck, Debbie?' asked the rascally politician. 'I hope the question does not offend.'
I suppose I should have at least credited him with posing a question in a straightforward fashion but I was rather cross at the crudity of his approach. 'Yes, of course I do not refuse myself the pleasures of the flesh,' I replied. 'But I find your bluntness unappealing. Like the vast majority of women I prefer to be wooed.'
He begged my forgiveness and then insisted that it was my beauty that had captivated him; that the sight of my breasts bulging out of the admittedly low neckline of my evening gown had given him a huge hard-on which was still troubling him almost an hour later; and that he desperately needed to relieve his feelings.
I looked down and sure enough there was a meaty bulge in the area of his crotch. I leaned forward and stroked it and he groaned as I felt his staff pulse through the material of his black evening trousers. 'Oh, do take it out, Debbie, or I will spunk inside my drawers,' he whispered fiercely. I was now aroused and I could feel my pussey dampening as I unbuttoned his fly and drew out his cock. It was a fine specimen with a large ruby head and I took hold of the sturdy shaft and gave the ivory column a preliminary little tug. He smiled and placed his arms round me and I made not even a show of resistance as he raised my head upwards and closer to his own and our lips closed upon each other's and we melted away into a most arduous kiss.
I felt myself being borne back and we fell together, Jeffrey taking extreme care however that I would come to no harm in doing so. As our lips remained glued, he carefully unbuttoned my dress and somehow I managed to wriggle out of it. He pulled down my drawers and with a certain roughness that I did not find displeasing he thrust my legs apart, raising himself a little above me on one hand whilst with the other he pulled down his own clothing as the large knob of his cock pressed down upon my cunney lips.
'M'mm, that's nice,' I murmured as his knob continued to press into my wetness. For a moment our eyes locked together and then, with a heartfelt sigh, he inserted an inch or so of his thick prick and was full upon me. Our lips meshed and I wriggled my arse to obtain more of this meaty morsel. Jeffrey understood my need and clutching my naked bum cheeks, embedded his throbbing cock down to the root and in some magical way my cunney expanded to receive it…
'Would you enjoy a thick prick sliding in and out of your juicy love-channel, m'dear?' panted the randy rascal. 'A-h-r-e!'
I could not speak. I was filled by him. His big balls hung in their hairy sack beneath the bulge of my bum as his lips savaged my own. With a passionate jolt of his loins, he inserted the full length of his hard, smooth shaft inside my cunney. Then the rotter took out all but the very tip of his knob which made me beg for its immediate return! I know that some measure of modesty should be present at all times even in the first few moments of erotic bliss but I cried out unashamedly for his cock to be thrust back into my ever-dampening cunt.
We began to fuck in joyful unison, our bottoms heaving together as he worked his staff in and out of my luscious crack. 'Oh, what a delicious pussey you have,' he gasped. 'How tightly it clasps and sucks upon my cock! That's it, Debbie, work your arse! Ah, now not too much or I shall spunk before you are fully ready to receive my juice!'
Fortunately no-one entered the room during our joust, though in truth we were lost in that sensual world where fulfilment is all. Jeffrey's cock slewed in and out of my slit, pistoning back and forth and I gloried in each powerful stroke as my own juices sprinkled his balls. Cupped now upon his broad palms, the tight cheeks of my bum rotated savagely as his lusty tool continued to ram in and out of me at an increasing pace. I was now ready for his libation and I cried out: 'I'm almost there! Empty your balls, you big-cocked boy!' And with his face buried in my neck and his hot breath on my shoulder I could feel that he too was passing the point of no return. Though we both may have wanted it to last, we were very soon lost in the throes of orgasm and I felt my cunney awash with spunk as my pussey exploded around his throbbing cock. We were enveloped in the delight of a beautifully judged simultaneous climax as we collapsed in a rather undignified heap of limbs.
'That is a truly fine member you have there, Jeffrey,' I said, complimenting him upon his prowess, for I always believe in praising a good lover. Especially in London, I rarely fail to lavish affection when due, as unlike back home in Scotland, down South a hard man is good to find. Perhaps I lack the necessary information for a scientific appraisal, but my own empiric research shows that Scots possess thicker pricks than Englishmen — Jeffrey Longbottom, of course, is an exception to this rule.
We dressed hastily, for we did not exactly care to explain where we had been, and fortune was with us as we were not missed by the other guests. Jeffrey offered to escort me home but I explained that I had already booked a Prestoncrest carriage for the short journey to Brown's Hotel, Mayfair.
However, we arranged to take tea together the next day at the House of Commons and I hardly slept that night as I was so excited at the idea of being escorted round the grand Parliament Buildings.
Jeffrey had informed the attendant at the gate of the visitors' entrance that I was expected and a messenger was dispatched to find him. 'What constituency does Mr. Longbottom represent?' I asked the gatekeeper.
'He represents Cockermouth in the Liberal interest,' said the liveried flunkey. How appropriate, I thought to myself, as Jeffrey's tall figure came into view.
'Hello, Debbie, how nice to see you,' he said as we shook hands. 'Look, if you're quick we could nip into the Lords and you could see Black Rod.'
'I saw enough of “White Rod” last night,' I said gaily.
'Ha, ha, yes indeed, and I trust you enjoyed the view. But as I am sure you know, the Black Rod to which I allude refers not to the colour of the King of Cameroon's cock but to the officer of the House of Lords and Order of the Garter whose job it is to summon the Commons at the Opening of Parliament.'
We didn't see Black Rod as a matter of fact but Jeffrey escorted me into the Distinguished Strangers Gallery of the Commons chamber where a debate on agricultural matters was taking place. The speaker, Mr. Derek Tong, MP for West Kent, was droning on about the high incidence of poaching. He was railing about the pathetic pictures which are frequently painted of the game laws and the constant and pitiless persecution of the poor poacher.
'It is really quite laughable,' added Mr. Tong, 'to all who know that during the last thirty years, poaching has been steadily followed as a “trade” by men who will not work even when work is plentiful and easily found. We can all sympathise with the occasional starving labourer whom some overzealous keeper has found with a couple of rabbits in his pocket which he had knocked over for his wife's pot; but to bestow words of sympathy on the lazy scoundrels who shoot hares and net the partridge preserves must be left to the friends of humanity who become sentimental at the expense of sound old-fashioned common-sense.'
The debate continued and Jeffrey whispered to me how interesting it was to compare the colours of dress favoured by the honourable members. 'My friend Professor Trower says that to look our best, we should wear
