her feet and said: “So what's the verdict, Ian? Which way do you prefer to be brought off?”
'I replied that, whilst having one's prick frigged in her clenched fist was most enjoyable, any man would tell her that being sucked off was a truly heavenly experience. She nodded her agreement and said with some slight pique in her voice: “Yes, I've often heard similar sentiments expressed by other boys, but for some reason they start to make all kinds of excuses when I suggest that they should return the compliment by kissing my pussey.”
'“Well, you won't find me passing up such an opportunity,” I replied with a gruff laugh. “I would be delighted to lick out your juicy little notch.”
'“And I would be more than happy for you to do so,” she rejoined as she stepped into her skirt. “But not here, even though it's lovely to fuck in the open air-but it would be too shaming if General Goldstone found us in a compromising position! Mind you, knowing the General, he would probably just drop his trousers and ask to join in the fun!”
'Anyhow, I've arranged to meet Heather tomorrow afternoon at her house,' concluded Ian triumphantly. 'Her parents will be out and she says that the servants can be relied on not to tell any tales.'
So it was now clear why the Pethrick prick deserved the praise heaped upon it by its owner! 'My word, you're a lucky chap. You had better not plan anything too strenuous tomorrow morning because I have a notion that none of us are going to get much sleep tonight,' I observed mildly. After finishing my glass of fizzy water I added that I had to be on my way. But as I walked to the doorway I suddenly turned back: 'Just one thing, Ian. Why did you bring me here and tell me this admittedly absorbing tale?'
He shrugged his shoulders and grinned: 'That's a good question, Andrew. Have you heard the story about old Mr. Cohen who goes rushing into St Mary's Church and gasps out to his friend, Pete Murphy: “Brendan, Brendan, you won't credit it but a beautiful young girl walked into my workshop early this morning, stripped off all her clothes, bent over the table and I fucked her doggie-style. Then half an hour later her sister came in, pulled off my trousers and gave me a wonderful gobble!”
'“Abie! Abie!” the priest reproaches him. “Why are you telling me all this? You're not even a Catholic.” And Mr. Cohen replies: “I know, I know, but I just had to tell somebody!” '
I guffawed at this witty anecdote as I waved goodbye to Ian. I marched back to my room where I showered and shaved before donning my dinner jacket suit that I had recently sent to my tailor to be altered and that had been sent back to me only the previous week. Inside one of the pockets was a note from Mr. Elbaum which read:
Dear Mr. Scott,
Here's your dinner jacket suit back which I hope you will continue to wear in good health. The jacket's fine, all I had to do was give it a good press, but I've had to let out the waist of the trousers by a couple of inches. My wife Ada says that you should watch your weight, Mr. Scott, you don't want to end up with a big belly like some of our other clients. Tell him to take more exercise, she says, but if the letter and photographs from a certain young lady which my son Maxie found in your trousers pocket is anything to go by, you would be better off taking it easy for a while.
Don't worry, I've thrown them all on the fire and you'll never hear a word about them again from me although Maxie wants me to tell you that should this young lady ever require a nice pair of knickerbockers, he will make them for her at below cost price.
Respectfully yours,
Sam Elbaum
PS. I'm sure you will agree that one favour deserves another and I'd be much obliged if you would kindly settle your account by the end of the month.
Gritting my teeth, I carefully tore up Mr. Elbaum's message into little pieces before dropping them into the waste-paper basket. How foolish it had been of me to keep such a personal letter, let alone those explicit photographs from Lady Cassandra Gossborough. She had sent them to me the day after we had made some private music together in her bedroom following a recital by the noted Russian violinist Herschel
Motkalevitch and the London Symphony Orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall.
I should explain that Lady Cassie is a keen and knowledgeable camerawoman. By the use of an ingenious delayed exposure mechanism, she had been able to take a series of excellent photographs of the pair of us entwined in a 'sixty-nine' with her open mouth crammed with my cock and my tongue sliding across her pouting cunney lips.
And, to cap it all, if these prints were not damning enough, she had also sent me a detailed billet doux about how she would like to be fucked when I came round for tea in two weeks' time.
However, to be fair to Lady Cassie, it was hardly surprising that she was desperate for a good fuck because Sir Horatio Gossborough spent more time supervising his vast financial interests in South Africa than at home with his wife. As I remarked to Teddy Carmichael the morning after the concert, it was probably the first time that she had had a stiffie between her legs since Sir Horatio had left London on his latest voyage back in April. Teddy looked doubtful and said that it was an open secret in Society circles that the very next evening after her husband's departure, Lady Cassie dined with Count Gewirtz of Galicia at his house in Green Street, Mayfair and did not return home until the following afternoon.
Well, at least the letter and photographs had been consigned to the flames, I muttered to myself whilst I pulled out my fountain pen and chequebook from my case to settle Mr. Elbaum's account. The tailor was an honourable man but I put my cheque without further delay into an envelope on which I scrawled his address because I reasoned that it would be stupid to try Sam's patience and keep him waiting for his three guineas.
It was seven twenty-five by the time I had finished dressing and I hurried down the staircase, pausing only to give Fielding instructions to post Mr. Elbaum's letter as he opened the drawing-room door for me.
'Ah, there you are, Andrew!' called out Katie who looked adorable in a blue cashmere dress. The swell of her beautiful breasts was accentuated by the daringly low-cut gown. 'You've just time for a glass of Buck's Fizz before dinner.'
Hobart stepped forward with a tray from which I took a glass. Looking round at the assembled company, I raised it and toasted my fellow guests. 'Bottoms up, everybody,' I declared, a remark which left Ian and Jack the task of explaining that I was not being rather rude!
Fielding re-entered the room and announced in sonorous tones that dinner was served. I had time only to see that Susie was wearing a black gown with a similarly revealing decolletage as were the Danish twins who had decided to tease us by choosing identical emerald green dresses. This made it almost impossible for the rest of us to tell them apart as the girls rose to be escorted into the dining room.
Assuming I was talking to Alexa, who incidentally was the eldest by fifteen minutes of the stunning Scandinavian sisters, I said to the ravishing blonde who was standing next to me, 'Your sister and you both look lovely in you pretty dressed but please forgive me if I address you as Erika by mistake.'
However the gorgeous girl took the wind out of my sails by replying with a wide smile: 'Andrew, I would be more annoyed if you called me anything else but Erika because that is my name.'
'Oh dear, how foolish of me to make such a mistake,' I said in no little confusion, but the other girl wagged a reproving finger at her sister as she scolded her. 'Alexa, it's very naughty to tease poor Andrew like that, I shall have to punish you for being so naughty after dinner.'
'Is that a promise?' asked Alexa unblushingly as she took the arm of Ian Pethick to escort her into the dining room. Katie slipped her arm inside mine and we led the party into the dining room.
'Hurry up, Andrew, I'm feeling quite ravished,' she said to me and I smiled: if that's so, how will you be feeling after dinner, my poppet?'
'Well fucked I hope,' she responded quietly and I almost choked with laughter as we strode out into the hall. By the time we reached the dining room I could hear the familiar sound of champagne corks popping and the eight of us-Katie and myself, Susie and Teddy, Alexa and Ian, Erika and Jack enjoyed this superb repast prepared by Mrs. Matlock:
Croutes de Caviare
Creme d'Asperges
