The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.II

by Rupert Mountjoy

  'Hello, stranger!' squealed Esme. 'We haven't seen you for so long that Beth and I decided to see for ourselves that you were still in the land of the living.' 'Or to ensure that you had not been rusticated which we thought more likely,' added Beth with a roguish grin. Oh no, I groaned inwardly, as the wise words of Mustapha Pharte, the perhaps unfortunately named Oxford-based disciple of the Indian philosopher Tagore, whose teachings were beginning to influence very many young people at this time, rushed through my brain-Take care that an overindulgence of your favourite pastime (in my case, chasing pussey) does not overtax your strength'. Now it was no* difficult to see from the glint in their eyes that both girls had not come to my rooms simply to pass the time of day, but I had spent almost all the previous night fucking Marianne and if that were not enough, pretty little Polly Castle had twice emptied my balls. Even if I agreed to comply with the wishes of these two lovely ladies, would I be physically able to do so? 'Well come on, Rupert, aren't you going to invite us to your room to show us your etchings?' said Esme impatiently. There was nothing for it but to smile and wave the girls upstairs, I reasoned, for the girls would rightly consider it the height of rudeness to spurn the offer of a freely offered fuck.

  'It will be my pleasure to entertain you both,' I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Though I have no paintings to show you, perhaps I can offer you a glass of wine or some other refreshment.' 'Or maybe both?' enquired Esme wickedly, slipping her arm in mine as we walked back upstairs to my rooms. 'Don't be too impatient, Esme-we'll begin with a glass of wine,' said Beth, settling herself down on the small sofa whilst I hung up their coats and busied myself selecting a decent bottle of white wine from the icebox, which incidentally was one of the first purchases I made in Oxford and is still in full working order. 'I'm afraid that I don't keep any champagne here, Beth,' I apologised, 'but let's open this bottle of Vernaccia from Sardinia your cousin Diana Wigmore sent me after she returned from her Grand Tour this summer.' 'I'm sure it will be lovely,' said Beth. 'More and more people are coming to realise that many Italian vineyards produce wine of an excellent quality. We do not look at Italian wines as seriously as we should because the Italians regard wine as something to be drunk and enjoyed rather than talked and written about like the French, who have cleverly conjured up a mystique of unique quality about their wares, from fashion to liqueurs. 'But it's funny that you should bring up Diana's name, Rupert. I had a letter from her the other day and she asks me to send you her love. When she was in Italy this summer, you know, she took a course in painting with the famous Professor Arturo Volpe in Milan.' 'Did she really? Even I have heard of the great Arturo Volpe. He is one of the top teachers in Europe and he must have thought very highly of Diana's work to allow her to join one of his classes.' 'Yes, I suppose so,' said Beth slowly, 'though I think Diana helped matters along by offering to pose nude for his students.

  She wrote to me what happened when she finished one session and all the students had filed out of the room, leaving herself together with Professor Volpe. Look, I have her letter with me-would you care to read it?' She rummaged in her bag and passed me a couple of sheets of paper from it. Good grief! I had only just finished perusing Salman's sensual epistle to Chrissie, but I was curious to read how Diana had managed to wriggle herself into one of the best master classes in Europe, so I took the letter and sat down next to Beth and began to read. I skipped through the text until she came to the incident Beth had mentioned, and readers will note that Diana indeed had used all her wiles to secure a place with the great man.

  So when the last student had left, I slipped off the pedestal and made my way across to Professor Volpe who was sitting at his desk.

  Luckily he speaks excellent English (for my Italian is disgracefully poor) and I asked him what time I would be required the next day, and whilst he was replying I pretended to see a coin on the floor and I bent down to pick it up. This gave him an excellent view of my bottom which was only inches away from his face. I looked up and saw that he was appreciative of the two soft globes and so when I straightened up I said that I had been mistaken. Then I affected to trip forwards and fell across him, taking good care that my breasts fell nicely into his hands. At first he was embarrassed but I quickly made clear my intentions by taking his hands and pressing them to my naked nipples.

  He looked startled for a moment but then he responded and we were soon engaged in a long, lingering kiss. I felt for his cock but there seemed nothing stirring in his lap so I slid off him and stood directly in front of him. Then I opened my legs and I began to stroke my cunney through the blonde silky bush of my mound. I slipped a finger into the moistening crack and started to rub myself off.

  Professor Volpe obviously enjoyed watching me masturbate as I caressed my breasts seductively with one hand, tweaking my titties lasciviously, whilst finger-fucking myself with the other. He unbuckled his trousers and pulled them down to reveal his now hard, stiffstanding shaft. I looked down at his prick which was of no great size but of quite a thick girth and decided to stop the show. Instead, I dropped to my knees to suck upon his knob and run my fingernails lightly up and down the veiny length. He groaned with delight when I switched to his ballsack which with one gulp I had in my mouth, and I massaged his thick staff up to its throbbing, twitching peak whilst I sucked his heavy balls. Before long we found ourselves on the couch upon which I had been reclining for the students and I moved round, my lips still around his cock, so that my cunney was above his head, and as I lowered myself down he wiggled his tongue all around my dripping slit. By this time we were both moaning with genuine pleasure and I urged him to move round and get on top of me. When he was in position I took his shaft in my hands and guided him into my longing love-channel. He fucked me very nicely for about a couple of minutes until he shot a great spurt of spunk into my honeypot. I didn't spend myself but this pleasant little fuck was very enjoyable and certainly did the trick as far as getting me into his classes was concerned. In fact, I would never have let anyone fuck me simply to further myself in some way. If Professor Volpe had asked me to suck his cock, I would have been delighted to comply with such or any other erotic request as I regarded it as an honour to be fucked by the great man.

  I passed the letter back to Beth who looked at me curiously and said: 'Rupert, you look somewhat pale and tense. Are you feeling unwell?' 'Yes, I'm quite fit, thank you, but I do feel a little tired even though I overslept this morning and truthfully, I'm also getting very worried about all the work which I have to plough through and how I am going to fit it all in with my social arrangements.' 'Oh, you must never let business interfere with pleasure,' chirped up Esme. 'You're probably just feeling out of sorts because you woke up late. My granny always says if you lose an hour in the morning you'll spend the rest of the day looking for it.' But Beth could see that I was really out of sorts and after we had drunk our wine she whispered something to Esme who nodded her head and smiled at me, saying: 'I have a couple of small errands to perform, Rupert. Will you excuse me for an hour or so? But Beth will stay and she'll help you relax.' What was all this about? Beth soon answered my unspoken question by taking me by the hand and guiding me onto the bed. 'No, I don't want you to fuck me,' she said. 'At least, not until I've managed to clear your mind and refresh your body by giving you an Oriental massage. I've always been a great believer in the principle of mens sana in corpore sano and I promise you that you'll feel so much better afterwards. I hope you'll let me try this out on you because you don't look your usual sparkling self.' 'I do need toning up in some way,' I admitted sheepishly, 'so I'd be more than grateful if you'd give me, a what did you call it?' 'An Oriental massage, Rupert. I was shown the secrets of the art by a friend who has spent several years in Hong Kong and if I say so myself, I picked up the technique extremely well.' 'I'm sure you have, Beth. So how do we start the ball rolling?' 'Lie down and let me help you undress,' she instructed as she sat down on the bed and unlaced my shoes. I unbuttoned my shirt and unbuckled my
belt whilst she pulled off my shoes and socks. I arched my back to allow her to ease my trousers and drawers over my bottom and in a trice I was naked as nature intended. 'Now it's my turn,' she said softly, stepping out of her shoes. Then she slipped off her blouse before unhooking her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. She sat on the bed and peeled off her stockings and lifted her chemise over her head to reveal her bouncy white breasts with their pert ripe nipples which almost appeared to be stiffening as she wriggled out of her knickers.

  She smoothed her hand across her fluffy blonde bush and I reached up to place my hands upon her breasts. But she stepped back a pace and said: 'Not yet, Rupert, you're not yet in trim. First, I want you to turn over and lie on your tummy.' I sighed but obeyed her command and Beth jumped up on the bed. On her knees between my parted legs, she placed her hands on the back of my neck and began to massage me, not too fiercely but at a slow, sensual pace, starting at my neck and working her way down my back, over my buttocks and thighs until she came to my ankles. She surprised me with the strength of her fingers but I must say that my muscles relaxed under the firm pressure of my skilled masseuse. She worked her way back up to my neck and then began to run her fingertips ever so lightly down my body. When her fingers reached the small of my back she slid her hands back and forth across my buttocks, then down the outsides of my legs to my feet and back up the insides until she came to my balls which she softly caressed from behind. Naturally, my cock rose up to greet Beth's hands even though she did not actually touch my shaft. After a minute or so she told me to turn over and I rolled over on to my back. 'Keep your arms down by your side,' she said as I moved my hands to cup her gorgeous breasts which dangled so invitingly when she leaned forward to repeat this fabulous massage. So I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of Beth's hands pressing and kneading my muscles and though my stiffstander was waving frantically at her she kept her hands away from the throbbing pole. But relief was soon at hand for once she had given me the soft butterfly touch of her fingertips, she lowered her mop of silky blonde hair and planted a smacking wet kiss on my lips. With difficulty I restrained myself and kept my arms resting on the eiderdown as she worked her tongue down my body, stopping briefly to circle my nipples before at last descending to my aching cock. She licked all round my helmet and then sucked in as much of my straining shaft as she could manage, stroking my length with one hand and teasing my balls with the other. She opened her mouth and sucked in almost all my cock until it touched her throat. Up and down, up and down bobbed her head until I almost fainted away with pleasure. Once she had thoroughly anointed my pulsing prick, Beth climbed aboard for a ride. She leaned over so that her stalky red nipples brushed my chest and this time she raised no objection as I slid my hands under them and rubbed her titties against my palms. This was a short, sharp fuck but memorable for its intensity for her cunney muscles clung deliciously to my cock as it slid up and down inside her tight, wet sheath. All too soon, the spunk came rushing through my twitching tool and with a low growl, I sent a mighty burst of hot, seething jism upwards into her eager nook. Gush after gush spurted deep inside as Beth's climax followed almost immediately. There, do you feel better now?' she enquired with a smile as we lay in each other's arms. 'I should say so,' I said enthusiastically. 'Let's finish that bottle of wine and have another little fuck before luncheon.' 'What a splendid idea!' said a voice from the doorway and we looked over to see that Esme had returned. 'I'll just undress and then I'll fill our glasses,' she added as she took off her coat.

  Esme was as good as her word and the three of us lay naked on the bed, drinking and laughing until Esme took hold of my semi-stiff love trunk and rubbed it between her palms until it stood up to attention, waving slightly as Beth and Esme knelt down in front of it and took turns to lick my shaft. Esme then gobbled my purple knob before taking about three inches of my cock into her mouth. As she sucked lustily on my delighted tadger, Beth kissed and licked my ballsack and then the girls swapped places and Beth lapped at my bared knob with the tip of her tongue, savouring the salty pre-cum which had already formed around the 'eye'. I thrust my slippery shaft upwards between her lips as she jammed my cock between them. There was time for just one more turnabout as Esme took my pulsating pole inside her mouth and she slid her lips as far down my shaft as possible, feeling my wiry pubic hair tickle her nose. She sneezed and Beth left her exquisite palpating of my hairy ballsack to say gaily: 'Esme dear, Lady Scadgers' Book of Etiquette expressly states that one should never sneeze with one's mouth full of cock.' I thought that Esme would choke with laughter but she sucked away vigorously until the girls finished me off and she swallowed my spunk in great gulps, pulling me hard into her mouth as I delivered the contents of my balls in a fierce squirt of white frothy cream. They licked up the last drains of my spend together until my prick had been totally milked and my shaft began to shrink back to its normal size. Beth and Esme would liked to have continued playing three-in-a-bed- who was the dolt who laid down the old law about the female being the weaker of the sexes?-but I was saved by the resonant sound of the dining-room gong and I invited the girls to quickly dress themselves and join me for luncheon. By good fortune Mike Beattie and his friend and fellow-Scot Allan Campbell were taking luncheon in college that day and I took the opportunity of introducing the Caledonian duo to Beth and Esme. When the girls left us to wash their hands I hurriedly explained my predicament to the two Scottish lads. 'I may be wrong but in all probability Beth and Esme are expecting to be fucked this afternoon and frankly, I'm just not capable of performing any more till tonight at the earliest. Would you kindly offer your cocks to the girls if need be?' 'With pleasure, Rupert,' said Mike warmly.

  'Shall we inform the ladies that our pricks are at their disposal or would you prefer to tell them yourself?' It's probably best to play it by ear,' I advised the eager lads who were only too willing to please the two insatiable girls if required. I think you'll know well enough if your services are required.' 'It's a pity I'm not wearing my kilt or they could see something to tickle their fancy without too much bother,' commented Allan, but as it turned out, the four of them got on splendidly and after polishing off two bottles of the college claret, we were all feeling very merry. Esme asked Allan what was his field of study and when he replied that he was taking a degree in English Literature, she made us all roar with laughter when she said she also enjoyed poetry and, when being told that Allan's home city was Dundee, recited the following limerick:

  There was a young man of Dundee, Who one night went out on the spree; He wound up his clock With the tip of his cock, And buggered himself with the key.

  'I hope I have not offended you,' she said, but Allan shook his head and replied: 'Of course not, Esme, would you like to hear another rhyme about my home town?

  A pretty young girl from Dundee Went down to the river to pee. A man in a punt Put his hand on her cunt, By God! How I wish it was me.'

  It must be the influence of McGonagall which makes people laugh when they find a Dundonian who is studying poetry,' said Michael Beattie. 'Probably so,' said Esme, “but tell me, from where do you hail, Michael?' 'From Perth, another city on the silvery Tay, as McGonagall might say.' 'Very good,' said Esme, finishing off her glass of the very passable college claret. Then I dedicate a verse to you-how about:

  Mike Beattie who hails from Perth Had the biggest balls e'er seen on earth. They grew to such size That one won a prize And goodness knows what they were worth.'

  Perhaps it was as well that a two shilling bribe to Mrs. Woodway, who supervised mid-week luncheons, afforded us the luxury of dining in a small private room off the main hall. When it was time to pass the port we were all rather flushed and certainly far merrier than when we sat down to begin our meal. This free and easy atmosphere afforded me the opportunity to ask Beth if she and Esme would agree to my leaving the party. 'Please don't be offended but if I don't get on with my work I really will have good cause to worry and not even your delightful Oriental rub do
wn will be able to help me-not even if you massage Professor Webb and my tutor!' 'It's quite all right, Rupert,' she said kindly.*You run along- Esme and I will be well taken care of by these two strapping Scotsmen, won't we boys?'

  Allan and Michael chorused their agreement and so I kissed the two girls goodbye and walked back slightly unsteadily to my quarters.

  But after a brief rest, dear reader, at the third time of trying I finally managed to find my way to the library where I spent the rest of the afternoon with my nose to the grindstone! But no, I cannot conclude these memoirs with an economy of truth! I did take a ten minute break at four o'clock to see if the girls had stayed with Allan and Michael. I left my books and papers on the library desk and made my way up to Michael Beattie's rooms. I thought I could hear some familiar sounds but as I discovered as I tried slowly to turn the handle of his door, he had taken the sensible precaution of locking the happy group out of sight of prying eyes. Now if he reads this manuscript, Mike Beattie will discover for the first time, that what went on that afternoon did not go unseen! For as I cursed Mike for being so careful, who should I meet on the landing but Nancy, who had also been drawn to the scene by the muffled cries and giggles that emanated from (as he is now entitled to be known, having joined the Scots Guards after graduation) Major Beattie's bedroom.