and private matters,' said Susie, with a cheeky giggle. 'I think Miss Ogden believes that we know nothing about what happens between husbands and wives in bed.'
'What about men and mistresses?' smiled Katie.
'Or between ladies like Miss Throng the games teacher and Miss Bulle?' I added, and we all pealed with laughter. It transpired that Miss Ogden, no doubt under the orders of the school governors, had attempted to teach the facts of life to the girls-most of whom probably had already as much if not more experience in amour than poor Miss O. who was not the most sensual of ladies and who had devoted her life to the instruction of mathematics and geography to young ladies between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, few of whom cared a jot for anything except enjoying themselves out of the classroom.
'Honestly, Rosie, you would hardly credit it,' said Susie. 'She began by saying how terrible were these wild women who demanded the vote. “This clamour for political rights is woman's confession of sexual enmity. Always remember, girls, that unless we are prepared to make of marriage a mere civil partnership, dissolvable at will, the correct relationship between husband and wife is one of control and decision on the part of the husband and deference and submission on that of the wife's. Never forget, girls, that where two ride on a horse, one must needs ride behind.” I just don't know how we all kept a straight face!'
'Did she talk about you-know-what?' I wondered.
'Gosh yes, and the poor old thing was frightfully embarrassed by it all,' Alice chipped in. 'She gave us all a leaflet written by Sister Elizabeth Thomson which explains all about how penises swell up when men cannot control themselves and that married ladies have the unfortunate duty to let their husbands place their members in their vaginas. “If ever any of girls get married,” said Miss Ogden, “you will have to let your husbands lie on top of you during their baser moments. I suggest that the best thing you can do is lie back and think of England for it is intercourse, when all is said and done, that causes babies to be born.” '
Well, at least no one could argue with that latter observation. Mind, it set me thinking that I had better visit Dr Bucknall's Surgical Stores in Chichester as soon as possible for a douche, as although I had taken only a very, very small chance of becoming enceinte through my romps with Jimmy Horobin, in future I should prepare myself better for fucking and let the boys know that their purchase of French letters would be welcomed.
Meanwhile, the girls regaled me about their latest encounters with the boys from St Trippett's College who attended our school debates every term and-under the strictest of supervision-the school's Spring, Summer and Christmas country-dancing parties.
Katie was first to tell us of what occurred between her and Robert Bacon, the handsome captain of cricket at St Trippett's. She said: 'Girls, you mustn't tell a soul because you know what my Papa is like-if he ever found out what happened, he would take his horse-whip to dear Robert.'
'Robert and I had both managed to arrange absence of leave one afternoon-we met secretly and wandered through the woods together, holding hands and chatting away like the close friends we were fast becoming. I should tell you that I was wearing my tennis outfit (for I had told Miss Ogden that I had been asked to play with the curate of Little Bristow) and that the previous evening I had taken the scissors to the neckline of the blouse to give the garment a plunging decolette'e finish that revealed the full, firm swell of my breasts to satisfying effect.
'My efforts were much appreciated by Robert for as we rested on a grassy knoll we were soon kissing and cuddling in fine old style. Oh, Robert is such a well-informed boy and I did feel so frisky that when he moved his hands from my back to rove over my scantily covered breasts, I made no attempt to arrest their progress. Of course, he was soon passing his lips over my naked nipples, kissing and sucking the titties like a real lover.
'I had never allowed him to go even as far as this before, but my blood was up and when he placed his hand on my knee and toyed with my thigh I knew what was to follow but again I made no move to stop him. So soon his hand was working its way up my leg and I even let him slip his fingers into the lacy knickers I was wearing and toy with my curly little bush.
'I know I should have put an end to it then and there but his fingers made me feel so good as they toyed with my trembling pussey lips that it was only when he attempted to lift my dress and press his face against my cunney that I called a halt and then only because I had already felt my pussey was already moist from a nice spend. Luckily, Robert behaved like a true gentleman and even offered to put his quivering bar penis back in his trousers (for he had unbuttoned whilst we were petting).
'To his everlasting credit, Robert Bacon did not attempt to force me to carry on further than I wished to go but we carried on canoodling and I will readily confess that I did take his lovely big prick in my hand. And oh! What a tremendous size it was! Whilst this was not the first time I had seen a stiff cockshaft, the upstanding girth and length of this one was beyond all my previous experience. I judged its length to be not less than ten inches and a full five inches in girth. Robert guided my unresisting fingers towards it and shyly I grasped this smooth fleshy pole with my hand, unable of course to fully circle it with my fingers. Though this was the first time I had ever touched a stiff manly organ, I knew what to do and I rubbed it up and down until it spurted a huge amount of foamy white spunk. We both so enjoyed the afternoon that next time I might let Robert proceed further down the path of love and allow him to play with my pussey whilst I lick his prick. I've always wanted to try that though I must say that his tool looks so big that I'm sure I'll never be able to cram it all in my mouth let alone swallow all that jism.'
Katie paused and said: 'Well, that's all that's happened so far, but Robert and I have planned an assignation for the first week of next term and I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to it immensely.'
Alas, tempus fugit, friendly reader and I must leave matters here for the moment, except to mention that the very next day my dear parents returned and after we had made our joyful reunion, Papa and Mama told me the most exciting news-if I was agreeable to the idea, I could leave St Hilda's immediately and in the Autumn take up a place at Madame Dupont's exclusive finishing school in Switzerland. Like Papa, I have always wanted to travel and I was thrilled to hear that he had managed to secure me a place in one of the most sought-after establishments of its kind in all of Europe.
Of one thing I was certain-Madame Dupont's would offer me the opportunity to put into practise the idea of obtaining a variety of sensual experiences. Jimmy Horobin had seized upon my words and acted upon them at the first available opportunity with Polly. Now it was to be my turn!
I stretched my toes catlike towards the roaring log fire and contemplated my first week in Switzerland at Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies on the beautiful banks of Lake Lucerne.
The school building itself was divinely elegant with a sweeping gravel drive, lined with conifers, leading up to a tall, carved wooden door set between majestic stone pillars. In the centre of the tidily clipped lawn was a tiny fountain set about with stone nymphs, and the beds bordering the drive were filled to bursting with fragrant spring flowers.
My days at the Academy were filled with the kind of studies designed to turn myself and my fellow students-a motley collection of girls from all over the world-into elegant and accomplished young ladies of breeding. Mornings were filled with lessons in French, cookery, geography and history, while the afternoons were set aside for music, drawing and painting, needlepoint and long, leisurely strolls on the banks of the lake, collecting wild flowers and interesting pebbles from the water's edge.
Although it was spring and the weather was beginning to turn a little wanner, the log fire in the girls' drawing room where I sat was necessary to take the chill from the air. Indeed, I felt my cheeks flush with warmth as I surveyed the room with its floor to ceiling windows with their breathtaking views, walls filled with books and pictures and its comfortably worn chintz sofas and Chesterfields.
Since I was alone, I kicked off my shoes and removed my stockings, drawing my long skirt to above my shapely knees, the better to feel the sensual warmth from the fire against my long, smooth legs.
With a secret smile of pleasure and stretching languorously, I took the letter from darling Simon, my brother Thomas's best friend, from inside the bodice of my undergarment where it had nestled, undetected, in the cleft between my warm, snowy breasts. From time to time during the day I'd remembered its presence and felt a thrill of anticipation as I counted the hours until I could steal away from the other girls and devour its contents.
I began to read:
My darling Rosie,
Since you left this morning for Switzerland, my mind and senses have been filled with you and memories of our last, sweet congress. So wonderful and delightfully erotic was it that my only desire at present is to put pen to paper and write about it in full, for our mutual delectation. I wish to describe each delicious nuance, that we might
