cunney! Can there be anything in the whole wide world to even approach the pleasure of fucking with a powerful yet considerate lover who knows how to use his thick, upstanding cock? As Jimmy's stroke became more and more insistent I spent again and again. Then I felt Jimmy go rigid and hold his breath and it was his turn to climax as he ejaculated with a final great shudder and a hoarse cry which rattled out of his throat, he sent his semen squirting inside me, drenching my cunney walls as I squeezed his balls, releasing a further gorgeous sensuous spend that burst forth from deep within me.
This set off Polly again for she insisted on squeezing Andrew Bennett's ballsack and sucking his twitching tool until at last it stood up again, as fine and stiff as a flagpole. She then threw herself astride his hips and with a single downwards motion slid her hungry cunney up and down the quivering length of his staff. She crooned with glee as his glistening pole slid in and out of her sopping nest and they came off together in a grand finale of frenetic fucking.
As time passed we amused ourselves in a variety of postures until the two men pleaded for the proceedings to be brought to an end. 'My goodness, and they call themselves the stronger sex. I am sure that Miss Rosie and I could continue screwing at least till midnight but just look at the state of this little prick,' teased Polly, flipping Jimmy's limp shaft in a gesture of derision.
'Good God, what you need is a stable of studs!' snorted Mr. Bennett, who took umbrage at her remark. 'Few men could have fucked as well or as often as young Jimmy and I did tonight.
'Surely you girls are not complaining?' he added plaintively.
I felt rather sorry for them, so I said: 'No, no, not at all, I think both of your cocks deserve ten out of ten for their efforts. Why, just look at the love-juice stains on the carpet! They'll prove quite a test for Dr Price's Famous Elixir! Don't be hurt, it's just that we girls still feel frisky.'
'You will just have to play with yourselves then,' groaned Jimmy as with a great sigh he turned on his side and in an instant fell fast asleep. Mr. Bennett followed suit so Polly and I dressed ourselves and for a joke, gathered up the boys' clothes and hid Jimmy's togs in my bedroom and Andrew Bennett's in Polly's-in fact, though Polly and I could have carried on playing in this whoresome foursome, we were really quite exhausted too and after we kissed each other good-night, we both retired to our own rooms to await our lovers.
In fairness, I must record that Polly and I did not have too long to wait for our beaux. When they woke to discover that not only Polly and myself but their clothes were missing, they guessed where both their girls and their clobber might be found. Jimmy managed to reach my bedroom and climb into bed without being seen but Mr. Bennett's bare bottom was seen by Sayers on the stairs as the butler prepared to close up the house for the night. However, as our old retainer has always been the soul of discretion I cannot believe that he will report the incident to my Papa when my parents return home next week!
Finally, although Jimmy and I fucked and sucked each other the next morning ad infinitum, alas, a telegram arrived from Goulthorp, Jimmy's valet to inform him that he must return home immediately as his parents were due back in London the very next day.
3. Off to School
The next day I waved a fond farewell to Jimmy as he boarded the 8.4S a.m. train back to town. The only comfort was that we would meet again next Thursday at Lady Macdougal's annual charity ball in aid of indigent members of the bookselling trade. With luck we would be able to slip away far from the madding crowd and enjoy each other's bodies in one of the several guest bedrooms in her ladyship's mansion in the leafy village of Barnes on the southern bank of the River Thames near the London suburb of Hammersmith.
Life was far duller without Jimmy-and poor Uncle Gordon fretted similarly from the lack of a bed-partner as he was unable to fuck Sarah for the following three days. For much against his will, he was pressed into service by Colonel Nettleton to sit on the bench whilst the local magistrate dealt with the latest crop of miscreants. The only amusing anecdote I can record about this event was that one of David Pickering, a poacher, was apprehended by Maddocks, one of the good Colonel's gamekeepers, after Pickering had bagged a couple of rabbits for the pot from our neighbour's land. He would have escaped scot free if in the woods he had not come across the gamekeeper's wife on her knees lustily sucking the pricks of two of the potboys who work at the village inn. Naturally, this stirring sight caused Pickering to cease his flight and as he watched entranced by this stimulating spectacle, he was pounced upon by Maddocks. Even then, he could have escaped but when he saw Maddocks burst out from the brush and threaten to blow the boys' balls to kingdom come with buckshot from his shotgun, the plucky poacher broke cover and wrestled the gun away from the raging gamekeeper.
'Colonel Nettleton is so down on poachers that he wanted to give the poor fellow three months' hard labour, but I said Pickering deserved a commendation from preventing serious injury or even worse,' I heard Uncle Gordon tell Sayers, as he played snooker with our butler that evening.
'Did you manage to change his mind, My Lord?' enquired Sayers.
'Eventually,' replied my dear old Uncle. 'I wanted to reward Pickering with five pounds from the court funds for his bravery but the Colonel would have none of it so in the end we compromised and bound both men over to keep the peace.'
'A fair compromise, My Lord,' commented the butler, as he dextrously manoeuvred the remaining red ball between two of the other colours still on the table.
'Good shot, Sayers,' said Uncle Gordon generously, complimenting our old retainer on his fine play. 'Mind, you've given me the sporting gentleman's favourite choice-should I go for the pink or the brown? Mind, one had to feel sorry for Maddocks, it must have been a great shock for him to find his wife in such an indelicate position.'
Sayers shook his head. 'Not really so, My Lord, the woman in question is well known round the area for her predilection in seducing young men and her husband's rage was in my opinion mostly simulated. Maddocks is not unaware of the matter and indeed I have heard that on many Saturday nights they jointly invite a lad to join them in bed after Mr. Stockman closes the tavern.'
'Stockman, Stockman, now isn't he the chap with extraordinary big bollocks?'
'So it is rumoured, though no doubt Sarah and Kathie would know better than I as to whether this is true.'
I left them to their game, musing that despite the thunderings from the Reverend Boms in the pulpit and the leaflets warning against the perils of the Sins Of The Flesh distributed to villagers by the Misses Allendaler, three crabbed old sisters who lived in the Old Rectory. As Oscar Wilde told Papa when my father dined with the disgraced wit in Paris shortly before he died: 'The Europeans have sex lives, the English have hot water bottles!'
Be that as it may, I asked Mrs. Moser to prepare a slap-up tea for my best girlfriends, who, you may recall, dear reader, I had invited for my birthday celebration on the afternoon of my parents' return. As it turned out, Mama and Papa were delayed for twenty-four hours but I decided that there was no need to postpone my little party. Katie, Gillian, Mary and Susie were all able to come but poor Sheena Waleshaw was unable to leave her bed as she contracted a nasty chill after dancing the night away at her cousin Deborah's coming-out party a few nights before.
'How is poor Sheena? I hope that at least she enjoyed Deborah's dance,' I said to my friends.
'Don't worry about Sheena,' laughed Katie. 'She was the belle of the ball. Why, she had George de Souza, Sir Andrew Stuck and even the Marquis de Soveral fighting to place their names on her card.
'Sheena always attracts the best men,' added Katie with a sigh. 'I bet she doesn't take a blind bit of notice of what old Ma Ogden was blathering about to the sixth-form girls last term-not that you can blame her for that,' she sighed.
Here I must explain that Ma Ogden, or Miss Edwina Margaret Ogden M.A. (Cantab) to be exact, is the revered headmistress of St Hilda's Academy For The Daughters Of Gentlefolk in sunny Devon where we all received our secondary education. 'Why, what did she have to say?' I asked. I had missed the last two days of the previous term, for during his Spring vacation Papa had taken Mama, Jonathan and myself on a most enjoyable holiday in Italy.
'Oh, she decided to call in several of her young ladies, as she calls us, for a private discussion on personal
