As we parted company from our new friends, smiling warmly and kissing each glowing cheek in turn in true French fashion, we promised to meet again soon in order to renew our relationship and share a further hour or two of companionable eroticism in the open air.
A day or two later, on entering the senior girls' study I was assailed by much excited laughter punctuated by a quantity of low, throaty, though undeniably feminine guffaws. What could have precipitated such earthy hilarity in this, a traditionally serene and tranquil chamber?
In the centre of the room, seated comfortably on a low, brocade sofa, sat an attractive and buxom lady of advancing years with twinkling brown eyes and an obviously merry disposition. She wore a peacock-blue gown of shot silk, generously boned and corseted in order to tame and hold at bay her ample bosom and rounded, womanly curves, and an elegant little hat with a long, black ostrich feather set at a jaunty angle atop her golden- blonde curls.
She was surrounded by ten or twelve of my classmates who, seated on adjoining chairs, on the floor or on each other's laps, were gazing at her delightedly with the sort of rapt attention rarely afforded to the Academy's more formal tutors.
As I entered the room she looked up and gave me a warm, inviting smile, gesturing for me to sit down. 'Good afternoon, my dear. I expect you're wondering who on earth I am-this middle-aged thorn between so many beautiful roses! Well, let me explain. I am Mrs. Horwill, mother of Jane Horwill who I am sure you must know since she has been a student here at the Academy for over a year now.'
Indeed, I did know Jane Horwill, but I'd scarcely been tempted to further our acquaintance since she seemed to me to be the plainest, most unenviably tedious creature to whom I'd ever had the misfortune to be introduced. That this voluptuous, twinkling creature was her mother was almost beyond my comprehension, although it is a commonly held belief, and I certainly believe it to be true, that sparkling, elegant mothers have a habit of overshadowing their poor, unfortunate offspring-most especially the female offspring-imbuing them with a dowdiness made even more apparent when parent and child are viewed simultaneously. However, I digress.
'I have taken the opportunity of accompanying my dear husband, who has business here in Switzerland, in order to visit my daughter's school. Alas, poor little Jane is at present employed in a period of extra French with Mademoiselle Cartier, so I am entertaining some of your friends here with a few little stories and anecdotes. I do hope we won't be disturbing you. Do please join us if you have a minute or two to spare.'
With that, Mrs. Horwill settled back against the firmly stuffed sofa and arranged her equally firmly stuffed gown around her knees, raising it up slightly in the front in order to facilitate the crossing of her surprisingly slim ankles and displaying her dainty little feet in their fashionable black button-boots.
Unable to resist the promise of a story (hopefully a naughty one, I thought wickedly!), I seated myself on a little footstool beside the sofa and prepared to listen. I was not, you'll be delighted to learn, in the least bit disappointed by what I heard.
Mrs. Horwill cleared her throat and began:
'I had been invited to send a few days at the Somerset estate of Lord Somerville,' said Mrs. Horwill at length. 'Of course, I had quite a shrewd idea of what that might entail. Lord Somerville was famous for the recherche eroticisms which formed a daily part of the amusements for those lucky enough to he entertained at his country seat. There were games, competitions, activities outre enough to enliven even the most jaded palate. In particular, I was anxious to see the famous “Nuditorium” which he had established there, and whose splendid facilities were, I gather, the talk of every gentleman's club the length of Pall Mall. My husband had frequently spoken of it – indeed, he had even suggested that, were his extensive shareholdings in the Bolivian tin-mining industry ever to bear as rich a fruit in dividends as he hoped he might realise from them, he might very well care to consider something of the sort at our own Yorkshire home.
'We arrived at the house in the late part of as splendid a summer's afternoon as one could have wished, for. The house was perhaps slightly more modern than I had expected-built no later than the middle of the last century, according to his Lordship-but it was nevertheless a fine and foursquare edifice in the local stone, with some sixteen bedrooms and no less than two bathrooms. Downstairs, as well as a magnificent dining room and a ballroom that entirely equalled it in splendour, was the former salon that Lord Somerville had, with commendable speed, converted into his “Nuditorium” almost as soon as he had succeeded to the title. We were soon to enjoy its facilities.
'So hot was the afternoon that, as soon as we were shown to our room, I felt obliged to remove most of my clothing. I lay down on the bed in my drawers alone, practically panting from the heat, sipping occasionally from a glass of iced water. A cooling breeze blew in from the window, fanning the curtains that stirred lazily in the warm gusts. Idly I ran the frosted glass from which I drank against my bared bosom, and anointed my pert rose-bud nipples with drops of cool crystal. They sprang up immediately as if in salute.
'At this point my husband returned from the lavatory. “Now there's a sight to give a chap a bump in his trousers the size and shape of a Howitzer!” he exclaimed at once.
'“You still enjoy the sight of my bosoms, even after all these years?” I enquired of him, playfully cupping and squeezing my breasts and rolling my head from side to side, my tongue flicking my lips. “Come then, you must suck them for me. Take off your trousers so I can play with that fine cock of yours as you do so!”
'In a trice he was at my side, and his head buried between my smooth ivory mounds. He licked playfully at each nipple in turn, and then sucked deeply. Next, as I rubbed his cock, he drew in a mouthful of the firm flesh, and then another, until I felt he might actually swallow an entire breast.
'“Shall I spend over your titties, my dear?” he enquired of me, polite but urgent. “Though last night I swear you all but emptied me of a month's reserve of spunk, our long journey seems to have been a most wonderful restorative. Perhaps it was the jerking and lurching of the carriage. As it is, already my balls fairly ache with the lewd urgings of love.”
'“Of course, my darling. I am always willing and eager to minister to your physical needs. Besides, nature knows no finer lotion than spunk to keep skin smooth and supple, especially when it is of such delicacy as a ladies' bosoms.”
'I rolled over on to my side, and clasped that great ivory rod of his. I frigged him up and down a few times, and then pressed the bulging purple head between my titties.
'“See how the firm flesh enfolds your cock,” I exclaimed as he sensually rubbed his cock against my bosoms.
'He paused for a moment and looked down. “See how I rub its tip against your exquisite nipples,” he pointed out in turn.
'“Shall I frig your cock until your spunk shoots all over them?”
'“Of course, my sweet. Let my spunk gush all over those sweet strawberries.”
'“It is such a perfect summer's afternoon,” I purred, “that strawberries and cream would be an equally perfect complement. How I do like to see a rich, creamy spend at such a time. I am sure, my dear husband, you have more spunk in you than any man I have ever known.”
'“And, you have known many men?” he asked rhetorically.
'“Many men. Many, many, many men. And many women too, but not nearly so many as all those many men. But not any of them could cover my titties with spunk the way you do.”
'I seized his cock and almost instantly was rewarded with a great gushing jet of cum that shot right across my bosoms. Five, six, seven times, that great spunker of his pulsed and discharged its precious fluid against my person, as I writhed and squealed in pleasure, for I had been playing with my pussey through the open gusset of my drawers all the while and now could feel my own spend upon me as the great heavy drops rained down.
'“Aha!” cried my husband, so loud that I am sure half the household might hear us.
'“Aha!” I cried in return, not caring a jot as we writhed together in the throes of our mutual spending.
'And then, almost in an instant, it was over-at least for the time being. We lay back against the pillows in the breeze from the window, the rivulets of spunk already cooling, even as our ardour in turn diminished. With womanly acumen I rubbed the sweet fluid into my skin, not merely to prevent it running on to the exquisitely embroidered counterpane and spoiling it but also to gain the benefit of its wonderful properties of nutrition. A good thick jet of spunk, as I have said countless times to ladies and gentlemen of my acquaintance, is as fine a food for the skin as any of the costly preparations sold in jars by even the finest chemists of Jermyn Street. And then, for a moment or two, we drowsed together in each other's arms.
'Later we adjourned to the drawing-room for tea. We found that the company, as well as Lord and Lady
