pert young breasts and moving her legs suggestively as I placed my hand on her crisp, damp bush. I licked my lips and moved over to kiss her white belly and then ran my tongue lower, through the tickly pubic moss. My hands circled around her glorious bum cheeks as I buried my head between her thighs and drew her against me. My tongue found her glistening crack and she gasped and shivered as I found her clitty immediately and began to roll my tongue around the erectile piece of flesh.
'Oh! Oh! Leon, you suck clitty marvellously. That's gorgeous, gorgeous!' she cried out: 'Now let's try something else!' And with those words she wriggled herself onto her belly and twitched her rounded bum cheeks provocatively at me. Despite our previous exertions, my cock swelled up again at the sight of this lovely naked girl and I gave my shaft a little rub to bring it to its fullest stiffness.
Yet I hesitated for a moment as she pushed her bum upwards and opened her legs to give me a good view of her bum-hole. I looked at it for a moment and then placed my knob, which was still wet from our spendings, to the entrance of the puckered little rosette. 'Yes, yes, Leon,' she panted. 'Go on, go on, I want a nice thick length of cock up my bum. Go carefully though and we'll have a lovely bottom fuck.'
I angled her legs a little further apart to afford a better view of her little wrinkled nether orifice and gently eased my knob between her cheeks. At first I encountered a difficulty but then her sphincter muscle relaxed and I slid my cock in and out of the tight sheath, plunging in and out of the now widened rim as she reached back and spread her cheeks even further, jerking her bum in time to my rhythm as I wrapped one arm around her titties, frigging each of them in turn, and snaking my other arm round her waist I was able to finger-fuck her pussey to afford her a double pleasure.
Her bottom responded gaily to every shove as I drove home, my balls bouncing against her smooth rounded cheeks. I worked my proud prick in as far as it would go and I enjoyed a delicious tingling as I corked her to the very limit. I moved in and out as she worked her bum to bring me off in a flood of gushing spunk that both warmed and lubricated her delicious backside. As I spurted into her I continued to work my prick back and forth so that it remained stiffly hard until, with an audible plop, I withdrew from her well-lathered sheath.
'That was very nice indeed, Sally,' I said with genuine solicitude. 'I always worry a little about suggesting a bottom fuck myself as unless performed with care it can be painful for the lady.'
'Thank you for being so thoughtful, my dear. I wouldn't like to be cornholed every day but it makes a pleasant change now and then,' she smiled. 'Do you know something, I am rather thirsty. Now I hope you will excuse the impertinence but I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of iced champagne to be sent to your room. I brought it up myself and I hope you don't mind too much.'
'Of course not, Sally! So long as it's a good vintage,' I laughed.
Now the champagne (a Moet and Chandon '82) invigorated me to a further bout which began with a lovely kiss and cuddle. We lay in a comfortable soixante neuf with Sally's thighs clasped round my head and her spunk- coated pussey lips pressed firmly against my mouth. As I licked up the morsels of our previous repast, she sucked my cock up to yet another fine erection and licked around that ultrasensitive area between my arsehole and my balls. Then she moved her wicked little tongue up my cockshaft to my helmet, flicking at it with the very tip so expertly that I could feel my balls tightening and my prick swelling up to a rocklike hardness.
I slowly entered her until my prick was in to the hilt and I stayed still a moment, savouring to the full the delicious little contractions of her cunt as it welcomed my cock into its portals. I don't think I have ever experienced a more soothing, moist, warm home for my throbbing prick.
We started moving together and Sally treated me to a long, slow fuck as I glided my shaft in and out of her pulsating pussey. Then we raised the tempo and our lips meshed together as our bottoms began to work in unison. How tightly her cunt enclasped and sucked upon my prick! We gloried in each giant thrust as her juices dripped onto my balls as they banged against her bum. She implored me to drive deeper by twirling her tongue in my mouth and, cupped now in my broad palms, her bum cheeks rotated eagerly as my trusty tool rammed in and out and she cried out with joy at the stinging excitement of my thick prick driving furiously into her soft depths. I felt the white froth spurt upwards and Sally gave a little yelp of pleasure as the hot creamy spunk flooded and I felt her shudder as she drained me of every last drop of love juice.
She let my now limp tool slide out of her before covering me with kisses and we fell exhausted into a deep sleep. Luckily Sally was not on duty until two o'clock the next day for we did not wake up until half past eight in the morning. In order to keep our assignment secret from the hotel management, we shared the large breakfast that I ordered to be sent up to my room and Sally hid in the bathroom when it was brought in.
Although she asked for nothing (except the use of my cock!), I insisted on leaving her a present of ten guineas in gratitude for making my stay in Liverpool so pleasant, which after first demurring to take, she accepted, thanking me heartily for my generosity.
Now, Sir, my old friend Sir Robert Dixon has chided me for leaving 'such a trifling sum' whilst Mr. Peter Stockman of Sevenoaks insists I was wrong to even offer any money at all! I would be most interested to read your comments upon this matter.
I am, Sir, Your Obedient Servant
Colonel Leon
Standlake Goldstone
House Cramley
Near Stafford
March, 1885
The Editor replies: The general consensus in our office is that your behaviour was beyond reproach. It is easy for Mr. Stockman to criticise for it is well known that certain ladies pay him large amounts of cash for their weekly fuckings. But then, is there a man in Britain who can equal the length and girth of Mr. Stockman's extraordinary organ? He occasionally is guilty of forgetting his good fortune.
Sir,
Like the poet I too best enjoy the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' and I trust your readers will find to their liking this completely true tale of autumnal lechery in which I must confess my involvement. Well now, perhaps 'confess' is the wrong word to use for I am not in the least ashamed at what took place. In the words of Mr. Sheridan, 'certainly nothing is unnatural that is not physically impossible' and I would be happy to submit to your judgement of my admittedly lewd behaviour.
Last Wednesday I decided to take a post-prandial constitutional stroll through Hyde Park. It was a fine if slightly chilly afternoon but I enjoyed my unhurried walk, listening to the first thrushes singing and watching a group of starlings swarming around a clump of crab apple trees, pecking wastefully at the ripe fruit. Leaves were still to be found lingering in some trees-deep, shiny yellow on the birches, pale green and golden on the elms.
I was so engrossed by the beauties of nature that I failed to notice that a girl who was walking in front of me had stopped to deposit an unwanted newspaper in a litter bin and a slight collision ensued.
'Oh, I do beg your pardon,' I gasped. 'How very foolish of me, I was simply not looking where I was going.'
'That's alright, Anna, no damage done,' said the girl cheerfully. 'It's just as well though that you were not at the wheel of one of these new horseless carriages or a really nasty accident could have ensued.'
How did she know my name? I looked at her closely and although I recognised the voice, I could not quite place the face of this extremely attractive blonde-haired blue-eyed creature who giggled and said: 'I do believe that you have forgotten who I am. Mind, it must be four or five months ago since we dined together at my cousin Jenny Everleigh's house in South Audley Street, Mayfair, a few days before I sailed to New York.'
Suddenly my memory returned. 'Of course I remember you! Your name is Molly Farquhar, Jenny's cousin from Cockfosters in Hertfordshire. What a nice surprise to meet you again. Yes, I recall your telling me that you spend a great deal of time in America. When did you come back home, Molly?'
'I returned last week as my Mama insists that it is time for me to “settle down” and look for a suitable husband. As she says, ad nauseum, you are now twenty-two Molly and we don't want you left on the shelf! Aren't
