been more forceful with him because I would far rather have spent the time in a romp with those gorgeous Danish girls!
'But before I could think of an excuse to refuse him, I found myself walking to Upper Chagford with the vicar. He was burbling on about his seventeenth century pews and pulpit when we heard the pitter-patter of the approach of another traveller. We stopped and turned to see a pretty girl hurrying towards us. She was dressed for the heat of the afternoon in a linen blouse and a white tennis dress which barely reached more than an inch or two below the knees of her uncovered legs.'
He leaned forward and added emphatically: 'And when I say she was pretty, I really mean it. She was a lovely rosy-cheeked girl of about eighteen with a saucy little nose and pouting lips. When she came up to us my heart started to pound as I watched the clearly visible heaving of her proud young breasts while she recovered from her exertions.
'Obviously, this entrancing creature was known to Reverend Ridout for he said to tier affably: “Heather, my dear! Is something wrong? I saw you only half an hour ago cycling along the track to General Goldstone's fields with your portable easel and a box of paints strapped to the back of the bicycle. Dear me, I trust this luggage did not affect your steering and cause a collision with the General and Mrs. Goldstone who often take a short constitutional round their grounds after tea.”
'Two delectable dimples appeared on either side of her sweet mouth when she replied: “No, the easel weighs very little as it is made out of bamboo and I reached my destination without any difficulty. But I do have a problem because Anthony Goldstone was supposed to meet me at half-past four sharp but he hasn't showed up.”
'Reverend Ridout turned to me and quietly murmured: “Miss Colchester is referring to General Goldstone's eldest son who is studying to become a veterinary surgeon. Anthony is an extremely clever young chap but I'm afraid he's well-known for being rather absent-minded.”
The dimples vanished as the girl said crossly: “I can certainly see how he acquired that reputation, vicar. He's let me down badly because I need to complete my portfolio which must be sent with my application to study art at Girton College and Anthony was supposed to sit for me this afternoon.”
'“Well, can I be of any assistance?” I asked her. “I've an hour or so to spare and if all I have to do is sit still, I'll be happy to be of service.”
'She looked across at me and her dimples reappeared as she answered: “How very kind of you, Mr., um-” and the vicar explained: “Oh, do forgive me, my dear, I should have introduced you-Mr. Pethick, this is Miss Heather Colchester who lives at Hinckley Grange, just a mile up the road on the outskirts of Chagford. Heather, may I present Mr. Ian Pethick who is staying at Judson Manor for a few days.”
'We shook hands and I said to Reverend Ridout with as much regret as I could muster that I would have to look over the church at some other time.
'“By all means, Mr. Pethick,” he said kindly. “After all, one has a duty to help a damsel in distress.”
'I was pleased that he did not feel too badly about my unexpected departure. Heather and I chatted in a friendly fashion as we walked back to where she was supposed to have met her missing model and a very nice spot it was too, a secluded glade surrounded by a forest of trees. Heather had brought a Thermos flask and whilst we refreshed ourselves with a cool drink of ginger beer, she explained to me why it was so important for her to complete her portfolio of sketches.
'“Is there Still much prejudice against women artists?” I enquired. Heather gave a wry smile as she replied: “As much as there ever was, unfortunately. There is still a bar on women at several meeting places such as art clubs or, heaven forbid, becoming pupils for lectures on figure studies at many studios.
So I am especially grateful to you for offering to sit for me this afternoon. Gosh! I can hardly wait to begin! If you've finished your ginger beer, I'll get out the sheet from my saddle-bag which you can put your clothes on whilst you get undressed.”
'“Get undressed?” I repeated blankly. “Why should I do that?”
'“Well, how else can I draw the undraped male figure?” she retorted. Seeing the shocked look on my face she sighed: “Oh, Ian, you're not going to let me down as well, are you? I'm sure that Anthony didn't simply forget to come but took fright at the last minute. Heaven knows why, he might not have such a strapping figure as you but I'm sure that there is no part of his body which he should want to hide.”
'So this was why Heather had been so effusively grateful when I proffered my services as an artist's model! However, I decided it would be caddish to go back on my word and I said slowly: “Go and get the sheet for me, I shan't let you down.”
'“Oh, thank you, Ian!” she cried excitedly as she ran over to the bicycle which was propped up against a nearby willow tree. Nevertheless, I still hesitated. Sensing my modesty, she spread out the sheet and then said encouragingly: “Come on, Ian, there's really nothing to it. Look, if it makes you feel less inhibited, I'll take off my blouse and skirt. It's so nice and warm that I'll feel more comfortable working in just a chemise.”
'This ploy neatly closed off any avenues of retreat. I sat down on the stump of a felled oak and removed my shoes and socks. Then I shyly turned round and slipped off my jacket, shirt and vest before unhooking my belt and pulling down my trousers and underpants together and slowly stepping out of them. Stark naked, I turned back to see Heather had indeed taken off her top clothes and was clad only in a camisole over which the swell of her creamy breasts was all too visible. I had to begin a fierce concentration on the conjugation of an irregular Latin verb to prevent my prick from stiffening up there and then!
'Heather said nothing as she chose a charcoal pencil from her case before asking me to go over and lean against the willow tree and to keep as still as possible. I complied with this request and, surprisingly enough, the fact that I was standing in front of her in a state of complete nudity soon began to fade in importance. She chatted away gaily as she worked and complemented me by saying: “Your body is well suited to a figure study, Ian. You have the necessary striking physique and, more importantly, you exude the confident pose of a man who believes himself able to surmount any obstacles that might occur in the future-not just through brute physical strength but by the sheer force of your personality.
'“Now, please try to stay perfectly still as I want to capture a clear-cut profile of your face with that proud look of determination stamped upon your brow,” she continued as she put the final touches to the sketch which she then tore off the large pad of paper set up on her easel. She placed it face down upon her case.
'When Heather had finished three further sketches, she thanked me again for my patience and said that she was very satisfied with what she had managed to do. Naturally, I could hardly wait to walk across and see what likenesses of me she had committed to posterity. But Heather stepped forward and, placing her hand on “my chest, she said: “No, Ian, I would rather you didn't see these rough outlines. But if you write down your address, I'll gladly send a finished portrait to you.”
'I must have looked very disappointed because she looked at me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and added: “Never mind, Ian, you'll just have to wait for a week or two. Meanwhile, though, I would like to give you a little present for helping me. Perhaps something along these lines appeals to you?” '
Ian gulped down the rest of his whisky and exclaimed: 'Andrew, I could hardly believe what happened next, but I promise you that this lovely young girl then reached out with her hand and began stroking my cock! This instantly made my shaft swell up to a pulsing erection as she allowed her fingers to trace a path around and underneath my balls.
'“Oh, I say,” I gasped as she closed her fist around my burgeoning boner, sliding her fingers along its length as she dropped to her knees. With an impudent grin on her face she looked up at me and said: “Say what, Ian? How nice it is to feel me frigging your big cock with my hand?”
'Trembling with joy, a wordless growl escaped from my throat as Heather licked her lips and went on: “Well, if you think that feels good, tell me what you make of this.”
'With that, she leaned forward. Her pink tongue shot out and licked my shaft from tip to base and back again. I clung to Heather's tousled mop of curls as she planted a series of butterfly kisses on my rampant rammer. Then she opened her mouth wide and jammed my tool inside its delicious wetness. Her head bobbed up and down wildly and when she rolled her tongue cunningly around my knob I could feel the playful bite of her pearly teeth as she nipped the sensitive cockflesh.
'My prick began to twitch and Heather began swallowing in anticipation as she waited for the gush of creamy cum to come spurting out of my knob. “H-a-a-r-g-h!” I cried out as I filled her mouth with a fountain of hot sticky jism and she gulped down every last salty drop, licking my helmet until my cock softened under her tongue.
'Then she pulled back her head and, wiping her lips across the back of her hand, Heather hauled herself to
