copious emission poured into her and her cuntal juices coated my cock as her clever cunney milked my prick until the last drop of sperm trickled out my shaft. I rolled off Lizzie's heaving body and we lay together in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Lizzie turned her flushed face to me and said: 'Oh Henry, I must compliment you. Without doubt, you are fast becoming my star pupil! I shall miss you when you leave the Albion Academy and will envy those lucky young girls who will thrill to the feel of your cock when you fuck them. Just as some fortunate people can play the piano with the minimum of instruction, so you are a “natural” when it comes to l'arte de faire l'amour.' Now who could fail to be displeased at such a handsome compliment! 'Thank you very much Lizzie,' I said with as much modesty as I could muster. 'But I am sure any credit for my ability in fucking must also be shared with my wonderful teacher.' There was a knock on the door and Lizzie called out: 'Just a moment, if you please,' as she slipped on her dressing-gown and walked over to the door. 'Who is that?'
'It's George Nugent-Bull here, Mrs. Dickerson,' I heard my chum call out. 'Er, I have Mr. Hare with me as you asked.' 'Oh, very good, George. Thank you for your help, you may go now,' Lizzie replied. 'Mr. Hare, I will be with you very shortly,' she added.
Then she swung round and said to me: 'Henry, may I suggest that you take a book and read in the bathroom until I call you.' 'Very well, I know when I'm not wanted,' I grinned as I heaved myself off the bed and, picking up one of the journals on her bedside table, I scurried off to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. But then I realised that I might enjoy watching Lizzie pluck Bunny Hare's cherry, so I gently opened the door and left it slightly ajar so that I could see what was happening in the bedroom. I saw Lizzie open the bedroom door to Mr. Hare and she swiftly put him at ease, offering him a glass of malt whisky which he nervously accepted. 'I think I'll join you,' said Lizzie as she poured the drinks directly from a bottle of Glenlivet on her dressing table. 'I sometimes take a glass of whisky at night with Dr Muttley, especially during the winter months.
'An occasional sip is most beneficial for the circulation, you know, as my elderly uncle Angus up in Banff will readily testify. He takes “a wee dram” of Glenlivet every night without fail and last month celebrated his seventy- fourth birthday and has never had a day's illness in his life! He sends me a bottle of Glenlivet every year at Christmas.' Then Lizzie proceeded to question Bunny Hare with great tact about his lack of opportunity to enjoy any physical relationships with members of the opposite sex. As I had already listened to the sports master's personal history, I did not even try to listen to their low voices but looked down at the magazine I had picked up from Lizzie's bedside table. I discovered, to my pleasant surprise, that I was holding the November edition of The Cremorne.
Opening the journal at random, to my amazement, I found myself reading a letter by a lady of the same name as my father's unmarried cousin, Lady Gwendolen Gaymen of Worcester, which had been sent to the readers' questions column, edited by the club's medical adviser, Doctor Jonathan Letchmore. (Lizzie has kindly loaned me her copy of this randy publication so that I can copy the letter into my diary.) The letter reads as follows:
Dear Doctor Jonathan, A gentleman friend of mine, a lieutenant with the Coldstream Guards, sports a splendid, eight and a half inch cock, with which I can find no fault. Yet, despite my protestations, he is convinced that nature has not endowed him with a large enough tool with which to satisfy me. I know he is an avid reader of this saucy magazine and I would be grateful if you would reassure him that size has little to do with the quality of a man's performance as far as fucking is concerned. Miss Gwendolen Gayman.
I read Doctor Letchmore's trenchant reply with great interest: Dear Miss Gayman, Let me reassure your friend that, to use the pithy colloquial homily of our American cousins, it isn't the size of the ship that counts, what matters is the motion of the ocean. Many girls of my acquaintance who have been fucked by Prince Kochanski of Poland (Who is generally reckoned to possess the largest prick in London Society) tell me that, whilst the Prince is an expert cocksman, after a night's romp in his bed, they tend to suffer from painfully sore cunnies the next morning.
Frankly, I am surprised that any reader of this publication needs to be reminded of this, although note the witty words of the essayist and poet, Miss Elizabeth Thomson; 'Alas, most men believe that penises come only one size – too small!' In any case, eight and a half inches is a very respectable sized cock. If he cares to make an inspection of his fellow officers' pricks, I would wager he will find that at least half have weapons of a lesser size than himself.
Incidentally, may I take this opportunity to remind our readers that the old country saw about being able to gauge the size of a man's shaft by the size of his nose is utter rubbish! It is an accepted medical fact that neither size, weight or bone structure can ever indicate the dimensions of a cock – nor of a cunt, I should add. May the gentleman take note. Doctor Jonathan Letchmore. I quietly placed The Cremorne on the floor and peeped into Lizzie's bedroom. With some difficulty I suppressed a chuckle as I saw Bunny nervously fumble with his shoe laces. Lizzie, having discarded her robe, knelt naked at his feet and I leaned forward to hear her give the novice tome much needed words of encouragement. 'Don't be nervous, Cuthbert,' she said, planting a light kiss on his flaccid tool. (Cuthbert indeed! No wonder Mr. Hare never objects when he hears his nickname bandied across the dressing room!) Lizzie continued: 'This problem must be solved, my dear man. You said yourself that it has vexed you for longer than you care to remember. At your age, virginity must be a terrible burden and it will be my pleasure to lift this yolk from your shoulders.' Bunny's hands clasped hers as he muttered: 'Will you really let me fuck you, Lizzie? You aren't just teasing me, are you?' 'No, I would be delighted if you would slide that line-looking cock in my cunney.' 'At this moment, I want to fuck you more than anything else in the world!' 'Then you shall, Cuthbert,' cooed Lizzie. She slipped her fingers around his now stiffening shaft and began massaging his cock, drawing back his foreskin to make the blunt, fleshy helmet swell and bound in her hand.
Then she jumped and lay back on the bed and told Bunny to lower himself over her. She guided his prick on its first journey through the slippery entrance to paradise and spread her legs further to enable him to push his throbbing tool further inside her cunney.
His whole body trembled, doubtless over come by the elation of finally crossing the Rubicon, but after he had slid his shaft into Lizzie's cunt, he lay motionless. She looked at him in surprise. 'Doesn't that feel nice, Cuthbert? Do be a good man and fuck me,' she urged.
Poor Bunny knew so little about how to make love that he asked in a timid voice what exactly he was supposed to do. I am sure he has since thanked his lucky stars that he was initiated into fucking by such a thoughtful and kindly teacher as Lizzie Dickerson, for some girls might have burst into laughter and teased him about his ignorance.
Lizzie simply murmured: 'It's very easy, my love. Just push in and pull out and let nature take its course until you feel the spunk rushing through your cock.' Her hands slipped down to clasp his taut arse and, despite his long period of enforced virginity, Bunny proved himself to be a quick learner. What he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm, bouncing vigorously on Lizzie's soft body.
She clawed at his jerking bum cheeks and heaved herself upwards to pull him further into her. 'A-h-h-h! A- h-h-h! A-h-h-h!' he groaned, plunging his cock deeper and deeper inside Lizzie's juicy cunt so his cock was caressed to the hilt by the slippery membrane of her love tunnel. Lizzie too was obviously enjoying plucking Mr.
Hare's cherry for I could see her lifting her bottom and rotating her hips to time with his rhythmic strokes. Then, with a little shout, the ecstatic sports master flooded her cunny. After two or three final, frantic thrusts, he removed his shrunken shaft and rolled over, panting, just like myself only a few short days ago. 'Jolly good, Cuthbert,' said Lizzie as she gently patted his limp tool which was lying across his thigh. 'I thoroughly enjoyed myself as well. But you must try to fuck more slowly as it takes longer for a lady to achieve a climax. A considerate lover will always try to hold back and wait for his lover to spend.' His face fell and he groaned: 'Oh dear, I didn't do very well, because I came to quickly for you,' 'Oh tush! You mustn't mind about that. In all honesty I never expect to climax with a novice lover,' she said, as she toyed with his slowly stiffening shaft. 'Think on this though – when you want to prolong love making, you may find it possible to stop the spunk rising from your balls by clearing your mind of sensual thoughts. Try reciting to yourself a passage from Shakespeare like Mr. Hutch- does, or even something as mundane as a list of English counties. Often, this will cool your ardour and enable you to keep fucking for at least another five minutes which can make all the difference to the girl you are pleasuring at the time.' Bunny Hare was too exhausted mentally to catch Lizzie's slip of the tongue but I immediately noted her unguarded remark about 'Mr. 'Hutch-'. I wager half a guinea that she was referring to my form master, Mr. Hutchinson. Lizzie had no intention of letting Bunny off lightly and she was now kissing his chest and slowly lowering her mouth down across his tummy. He writhed and gasped when her mouth reached his navel. She
