cheeks of her bottom. From the expressions of delight on their flushed faces, I guessed that he had buried his tool deep inside her clinging sheath and I noted that he slipped his hand around her waist to handle her luxuriously- covered mound, sliding his fingers into her cunt to join his veiny love truncheon. My own cock now jerked and twitched in my fist and my whole body shuddered. Spurts of sticky spunk erupted from my knob as I gave myself up to the joys of a long and copious climax, spraying the window with my powerful jets of jism. As I wiped myself with my handkerchief, which was already coated with spunk from the result of my tossing off whilst I watched the glorious fucking of Nancy Bulstrode by the Reverend Beresford Tagholm, I saw the General collapse down upon Freda, doubtless having discharged his seed inside her cunney. As I squeezed my shrunken shaft back into my drawers and buttoned my trousers, I reflected that it would still be some time before General Bulstrode was ready to continue his search for his daughter. Meanwhile, Lizzie Dickerson would be entertaining Mr.
Hutchinson (in a manner I could well imagine) so that there was little chance of his returning to his study and interrupting the fine sport which was still taking place there. A final glance showed the housemaid on her knees in front of the General, coaxing his dangling shaft into a further cockstand. I decided that there was no need for me to have any further involvement in these matters and I walked thoughtfully back to the fifth-form common room. I've been reflecting whether Dr Muttley has the slightest inkling of just how much fucking has been taking place within the buildings of 'the grand old school', as he often refers to it. My conclusion is that the headmaster remains in a state of blissful ignorance of such carnal carryings-on. However, whilst he would not approve of them, he might prefer these expressions of sexual desire to take place rather than foster the sexual practices between us boys which are bound to occur if we are denied access to the company of the opposite gender.
When I opened the door of the common room, I found myself pressed into umpiring the rowdy tug-of-war match that was taking place until supper-time. Then, (as is the custom at the Albion Academy on Sunday nights) we had to attend a brief assembly in the main hall for a short lecture upon a topic of the day, occasionally given by a sixth former or by one of the teaching staff, but delivered this particular evening by Dr Muttley himself on the subject of 'The Ethics of Empire'.
Our headmaster is an unrepentant Imperialist and urged us never to forget that, to us, a certain definite duty has been assigned: 'to touch the mind of Asia and Africa with the ethical ideas of Europe; to give to thronging millions who would otherwise never know peace nor security, these first conditions of human advance. Whatever others might say, we do not possess the right to cast from us this vast world-work which our forefathers have entrusted to our care'. As we filed out of the hall on our way to the dormitory, I remarked to Billy Goodall that it was all very well for Dr Muttley to talk of the need to civilise the natives, but how about the need to provide decent living conditions and jobs at reasonable rates of pay for our countrymen who are crammed into the slums of our big cities and have little hope of escape from their wretchedness?' 'Now then, young Dashwood, we'll have none of that radical clap-trap here, if you don't mind,' snapped Addington, one of the sixth-form prefects who was walking behind me. 'I don't want to hear you spouting that dangerous nonsense again, it's all based on selfishness and socialist envy.'
'You may not agree with me but I'm entitled to express my opinion,' I challenged. He scowled and replied: 'Not when I'm around you're not, Dashwood, do you understand?' 'Only too well,' said the familiar voice of Julian Clayton and I spun round to see the captain of the school glaring at Addington. 'I don't agree with what Dashwood is saying either but he has every right to put forward his point of view. Haven't you ever heard of free speech?' “Thanks, Clayton,' I said as Addington walked furiously away. “That's all right, young Dashwood,' he said with a conspiratorial wink. 'Don't hesitate to let me know if that foolish fellow bothers you again. We pupils of Lizzie Dickerson must stick together!'
PART III. Comings and Goings
Monday, November 12th, 1895 (After Supper)
When I met Lizzie Dickerson as I was coming out of the dining hall after luncheon, I could hardly wait till we found ourselves alone in a quiet corner of the quadrangle. 'Did everything go to plan last night?' I asked. She gave a merry little chuckle and replied: 'Yes, I'm pleased to report complete success, Henry, and you may claim no small credit for your part in this affair which shows again that amor vincit omni.' (I remembered the translation from Latin class: 'love conquers all'.) 'General Bulstrode is at last now prepared to talk to the young couple about their future instead of shouting abuse at his daughter and her lover,' she continued. 'I am sure that once he gets to know Beresford better, his opposition to their marriage will gradually wither away. 'And Freda Prestwich enjoyed a good poke from the General, which she gets far too infrequently although I understand he always leaves her a present of a guinea which is more than two weeks' wages for a school housemaid anywhere in the country. 'Mr. Hutchinson and I also had a fizzing time. Unlike most Englishmen, he is a dextrous exponent of the art of cunnilingus and we spent twenty minutes in a divine soixante neuf.' Lizzie noticed the envious look on my face for she giggled and said: 'Don't be jealous, Henry, it doesn't suit you.
Now, you be a good boy and I'll show you, George and Johnny Bridges just how delicious a mutual sucking can be when I see you on Thursday afternoon.' This cheered me up and I said that I was glad to have been of service. 'So was I,' said Lizzie as we walked back to the main building where the bell was ringing to warn of the start of afternoon classes. 'Generally speaking, I think it wrong to interfere in other people's love lives, but General Bulstrode was being so unfair. It isn't as if the Tagholm family is in any way inferior to his own, although, as landed gentry in Shropshire, I suppose that Beresford's people may be living in straitened financial circumstances due to the current agricultural depression. 'As far as I can tell, his only objection is to what he calls Beresford's 'communist' politics. Frankly, I think this is an unwarrantable calumny. To the best of my knowledge, Beresford does not preach bloody revolution but only a gospel of social reform to give the poorer classes more opportunity to lead happier and more fulfiling lives. Good heavens, don't I sound like a politician! Mind, it is true that dear Dr Muttley believes me to be a wild woman because of my belief in female suffrage.' 'My father also supports the idea of votes for women,'
I told her as I spied Addington walking towards us. 'However, I very much doubt if this chap does,' I added as I swiftly told her of my contretemps with the prefect last night. 'I don't have time to bandy words with him though because your friend Mr. Hutchinson has said he is fed-up with people coming in late after luncheon and that he will swish anyone who isn't at their desk when he comes in to take the first afternoon lesson. But I'll wager this so-and-so tries something on with me.' 'Who, Addington? Leave him to me if he causes any trouble,' said Lizzie with a sigh. 'I know he can sometimes be most unpleasant but I don't think he will bother you whilst I am in earshot.' However, Lizzie was proved wrong, for as she walked away, the prefect called out to me: 'Dashwood, go to my study and bring down my History of the Punic Wars which you'll find on the table. I'll wait here for you.' 'I'm not your fag, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't go now because the task would make me late for class,' I replied, noticing that he was carrying an ash-plant under his arm. 'Up to you Dashwood, either you get whopped by me for not doing what I say or by Mr. Hutchinson for being late,' he sniggered. I would have been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea if it had not been for the timely intervention of Lizzie Dickerson. Wisely, she did not attempt to take my side but simply said: 'Ah, I'm glad to see you, Addington, please come with me.
Sixth-form classes do not begin for another ten minutes, do they? And, being Monday, you will be studying Latin with the headmaster, if my memory serves me correctly. I have an important message for Dr Muttley that I want you to pass to him. 'I'm rather busy just now, Mrs.
Dickerson,' he stammered. I took the opportunity to walk briskly away and managed to be sitting at my desk relating the above incident to Johnny Bridges and Billy Goodall when Mr. Hutchinson swept into the room. 'Good afternoon, gentlemen, I am pleased to see that you have heeded my warning to observe strict punctuality in returning here after luncheon,' he said. I noticed there was a twinkle in his eye as he paused for a moment and then went on: 'And your good behaviour is now to be rewarded.' Now, my form-master is not like some schoolmasters who may be clever yet lack insight into young minds. To these teachers, all boys are wild dogs who have to be cowed into submission, but Mr. Hutchinson knows that soft words and a pleasant manner carry more weight with us pupils – especially when we know that, in the last resort, he does not shirk from using his cane!
So, when he held up his hand to quell the little buzz of excitement that went round the classroom, we fell silent immediately and he continued: 'The Mayor of Ashford is coming to the school this afternoon to discuss our
