Like my chum Frank Folkestone is fond of saying, I can resist anything except a pretty bum! I took two paces forward and pinched her glorious bum between my thumb and forefinger. 'Eddie! You randy bugger, stop that at once! Can't you wait till lunch-time?' Mary squealed as she shot up, but she clapped a hand to her mouth in horror when she whirled round and saw that it was the master of the house who had assaulted her. I smiled broadly to put the girl at her ease and said, 'Ah me, lucky Eddie, who I presume is my efficient young footman.' She gulped with embarrassment and said, 'Yes sir, Eddie Edwards. I'm awfully sorry but I didn't expect you to come up behind me.' 'The fault is all mine and I had no right at all to startle you, but your delicious rounded bottom cheeks were simply too arousing as you bent over the bath. Please forgive me, Mary, it won't happen again,' I added, with as much sincerity as I could muster, which was not a great deal, especially when even as I spoke, my cock began to swell up alarmingly, forming a noticeable bulge between my legs.
'Oh, that's quite all right, sir, I'm not cross with you-it was just being caught unawares which made me jump,' she said, turning back to finish her work. I considered her cute arse again and placed a hand on each soft, rounded buttock. 'Oooh, you'd better not do that, sir. You really mustn't. Someone might come in.' Amused and aroused now by this form of surrender I unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it to the floor. Then I tugged down her crisp white knickers and she stepped out of them before resuming her labours. I smoothed my hands along the creamy cool skin of her appetising bum cheeks and then slid my right hand between her legs. She neatly trapped it by squeezing her thighs together, leaving me to wrestle with my fly buttons with my left hand whilst I tickled the entrance to her honeypot with my imprisoned fingers. My trousers and drawers now joined Mary's clothes on the floor and I begged her to release my hand so I could replace it with something more pleasing. She moved her head round and with shining eyes looked down at my hard, erect member.
'You'll have to go in by the tradesmen's entrance, sir, I can't risk letting you have my cunney till next week,' she said, and wriggled back so that her head and upper body were bent quite low over the bath as she pushed her glorious backside upwards and opened her legs to give me fair view of the tiny, puckered brown rosette. I knelt down and picked up a sponge and soaped my pulsating boner before parting her buttocks with my hands and pushing my uncapped helmet into the cleft between them. 'Yes, do go, sir. Go carefully though as you stick that nice thick length of cock up my bum,' she said excitedly.
I angled her legs a little further apart to afford an even better view of her winking little rear dimple and gently eased my knob forward. For a few seconds I encountered resistance but then her sphincter muscle relaxed and I slid my rigid rod in and out of her tight arse-hole, plunging in and out of the now widened rim as Mary reached back and spread her cheeks even further, jerking her bum in time to my rhythm as I wrapped one arm around her breasts, squeezing each of them in turn and snaking my other arm round her waist to frig her wet pussey as she whimpered with pleasure, squirming and wriggling about to such an extent that I had to work hard to keep my cock inside her. Mary's bottom continued to respond gaily to every pistoning thrust as again and again I drove home, my balls bouncing against her soft buttocks. Then I shoved my shaft in to the hilt, corking her to the very limit. I stayed still for a moment and then jerked my hips slowly as I felt the first sweet stirrings of an approaching spend and with a strangled cry I shot a copious emission of gushing jism inside her bottom. As I spurted into her bum-hole, I continued to work my prick back and forth until, with an audible 'plop', I withdrew my shrinking organ from Mary's well-lathered nether orifice. 'Ooh, that was nice, sir. Could you suck my cunney now?' she asked.
Well, much as we would have both enjoyed a continuation of this frolic, tempus fugit-Mary had to finish her household chores and I had to compose myself for my luncheon with Nancy Carrington. I noticed a large blob of spunk had dripped down from Mary's bottom on to the marble floor which she wiped clean with a cloth. 'Just as well we didn't have that lovely bottom-fuck in the bedroom,' I commented as I hauled up my trousers. 'I wouldn't want to damage any of Colonel Wright's rare Persian carpets.' This remark made Mary giggle and she said, 'Oh, spunk marks are no problem, sir. Whenever the Colonel has one of his special parties, we always manage to clean up without any trouble.' 'Special parties?' I queried and Mary put her finger to my lips. 'Please don't tell anyone I mentioned anything to you, sir. I thought you knew about the monthly reunions or I wouldn't have said a word about them.' 'Don't worry, my lips are sealed,'
I said, intrigued by her concern. 'But I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Colonel himself. He just happens to be a close friend of my Uncle Humphrey and agreed to rent the house to him whilst he is in India. I seem to recall my Uncle telling me that the Colonel was invited to join some government inquiry and will spend twelve months out East.' Mary nodded and confirmed my vague memory of the conversation with Uncle Humphrey. 'Colonel Wright's the deputy chairman of the Royal Commission on Native Education. The Prime Minister himself asked him to serve and so he felt he could not refuse. “I don't really want to go, Mary,” he said to me before he left, “but the other day Mr. Lloyd-George all but promised me a knighthood if I accept the job.” '“Never mind, sir,” I said, as I squeezed his balls. “I'll bring my friend Sally round and we'll have that nice whoresome threesome you've always dreamed about.”' Was I dreaming or did this pretty young maid actually promise her former employer that she and another girl would share his bed? I looked at her in astonishment and burst out, 'You said what?' She repeated her remark and I said incredulously, 'You were squeezing the Colonel's balls? That was rather forward behaviour, was it not?' 'Not really,' she replied, shrugging her shoulders. 'After all, he had his cock in my cunney at the time.' I stared at her in amazement as she added, 'Don't look so surprised, sir. Cuthbert might be fifty-eight in February but I can tell you it's quite true that there's many a good tune played on an old fiddle. He takes longer to come than younger men but that's all to the good because so many boys of my age come too quickly.' 'Did he fuck you very often?' I wondered, and this question brought a satisfied smile to her lips.
'As often as I wanted,' she rejoined pertly. 'If I say so myself, I'm not short of a cock when I want one.' 'I'm sure you're not, Mary, you're a very attractive young lady. Frankly, I'm just rather curious as to how you two became involved.' 'Oh, that's easily explained,' she said lightly, picking up her box of cloths and polishes. 'I'll tell you how if you don't mind following me into the bedroom across the hall. I know it's not being used right now but Mr.
Bristow asked me to give it the once over every week in case we have a sudden guest coming to stay.' Mr. Bristow, I should mention here, was the butler I had inherited from Colonel Wright. Sadly, his aged father had died suddenly a few days previous to this conversation and naturally I had agreed at once to his request for a week's compassionate leave of absence. In the meantime, the estimable cook-housekeeper, Mrs. Harrow, was taking charge of all matters below stairs. 'Certainly, I'll come along-you'll now have a witness if Mr. Bristow alleges that you failed to carry out his instructions,' I joked as I followed Mary into the second bedroom. I sat on the bed whilst she told me of how she first became aware of Colonel Wright's attentions. She told me, 'It all began about eighteen months ago just after I had joined the household. Although I was only seventeen, I had already sampled two or three cocks in my pussey before I came here. However, I hadn't been fucked for a good few weeks until a few days before this incident when I had let PC Shackleton thread me up against the back garden wall. 'Well, I went to bed well satisfied and, though I slept like a top, for once I woke before Mrs. Harrow knocked on my door and I remember snaking my arms above my head for a long stretch, thinking back with a smile about the little knee-trembler I had enjoyed with my randy copper, before kicking off the bedclothes and springing to my feet. 'Now I never wear anything in bed so I was stark naked as I padded over to the window, threw
back the curtains and opened the window. As I gazed delightedly at the bright dawn sunshine my hand strayed down to my little nookie.
I was twisting my curly pussey hair around my fingers and gently stroking myself around my crack when I heard what sounded like a sharp intake of breath from underneath my window. Was it a stray cat perhaps or was there some dirty beast down there spying on me? There was an easy way to find out – I withdrew for a moment and returned with my chamber pot which I had used during the night but I added the contents of my water jug to fill the pot almost to the brim. Then I raised the window sash to the highest level and leaned out, feeling the cool morning air tease my rosy nipples into little erect buds. I distinctly heard a low, furtive moan coming from down below which confirmed that it was indeed a Peeping Tom hiding in the dense foliage. So I withdrew for a moment and came back again, leaning out to tip the contents of the chamber pot out the window! 'An anguished yell told me that I had scored a direct hit on whoever had been spying on me-but to my horror, who should emerge wet headed, spluttering with rage, with his trousers round his knees and his hand round his bare cock but the Master himself!' The dirty old so-and-so! It served him right to be drenched in your you-know-what!' I exclaimed. 'Ah! But you've jumped to conclusions, sir, though of course I did the very same thing as well,' Mary remonstrated, touching my lips with her finger. The truth of the matter was that the Colonel, who has always suffered from insomnia, had woken with the dawn and had decided to potter around the garden. It was by pure coincidence that he happened to be outside my window when suddenly he had been caught short and rather than trudge back inside the house, he decided to relieve his bladder in the garden. He had just finished his piddle when he heard me open the window. He looked up and, well, I could hardly blame him for becoming speechless with astonished delight when he saw my naked body above him.' Mary paused for breath and then continued with a grin, 'Well, poor old Cuthbert could hardly shout up anything to me or the other servants might have looked out to see what was going on. So he rushed inside, changed his clothes and came straight up to see me. I had already half a mind to start packing my bags but as soon as Cuthbert came into my room he began apologising for his rudeness and explained the circumstances which had inadvertently led him to the sorry situation in which he now found himself. 'And as for giving me the sack, nothing could be further from his thoughts. Instead, he insisted on presenting me with a gold sovereign to compensate, as he put it, for any distress I might have felt about the wretched incident which he hoped could now be forgotten. 'I thought this was more than generous and so I asked him to sit on the bed. “You deserve a proper view of what you only caught a glimpse of earlier,” I said and tossing back my shimmering curls and running my tongue lewdly over my pouting lips, I unknotted the cord of the bathrobe I had hastily donned along with a pair of white cotton knickers when I realised that the Cuthbert was coming upstairs. I slid out of the robe, arching my spine and sucking in my breath to give Cuthbert a wonderful full frontal view of my big, luscious breasts. You haven't seen them yet, have you, sir? Well, take my word, I'm lucky enough to have two beauties and I don't mind admitting that I'm very proud of them.
'Anyway, I took my raspberry nipples between my fingers and tweaked them up till they blushed a deep red and grew stiffly erect.
“By Gad!” said Cuthbert as I began to knead my firm, uptilted titties and then, planting my hands on my hips, shook my breasts at him energetically, trying hard not to giggle as I saw a huge swelling start to form in Cuthbert's lap. Then ever so slowly I began to pull down my knickers, wriggling round so that by the time I'd pulled them down I was facing the wall and he could see my bare bottom. “Oh my God, this is too much!” he cried out, and when I turned round, with my hand over my pussey, there was Cuthbert with his trousers ripped open, pulling out his thick, throbbing truncheon, the uncapped ruby dome bobbing gaily, as, panting with desire, he frenziedly frigged himself at a great pace. 'I thought that he would prefer me not to gawp at him whilst he brought himself off so I turned back and waggled my bum at him again. Then I gazed at him briefly over my shoulder and flashed him a smile as I parted my legs and bent forward with my arms dangling forward until my hands were almost touching the carpet. This way poor Cuthbert had an even more tantalising view of my firm, gleaming bum cheeks and the dark, secret cleft between them which even as he watched began to moisten with my tangy cunney juice.
'A strangled cry was enough to tell me that Cuthbert was shooting his load and sure enough I straightened up and looked back to see a tiny fountain of creamy white froth shoot out of the top of his twitching tool. 'I dropped to my knees to lap up his manly essence, as I adore the salty taste of hot, fresh jism but as I dived down a second burst of sperm jetted out of his cock straight into my right eye! “I would have preferred to have sucked you off,” I said to Cuthbert, and he looked sadly down at his shrivelling shaft and said that he would be very grateful if I would meet him in the library any time after noon as these days he wouldn't be able to raise another stand till around lunch-time.' This mention of luncheon reminded me that I had an appointment for which I was in grave danger of being late. I looked at my watch and asked Mary if we could continue this fascinating discussion in the library at around five o'clock. 'Oh yes, I'd love to, sir,' she replied promptly, picking up her box of cleaning materials. She then shot me a wicked little smile and added, That's on the understanding, of course, that we can have a nice snogging session as well.' I replied that this was a condition I was more than happy to accept. Then, after a quick wash and brush up, I went downstairs and Edwards confirmed that Harrods had delivered the flowers. After helping me on with my hat and coat he gave me the large, colourful bouquet of chrysanthemums before opening the front door. 'I expect to return home around three o'clock,' I informed him, and set off to walk round to Nancy Carrington's house. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, though it was still quite cold and I was glad that I had worn one of Mr. Rabinowitz's warm overcoats even for the short three minute journey to the far corner of Bedford Square.
Nancy Carrington's Negro butler must have seen me climb the short flight of steps for he opened the door before I had a chance to ring the bell. 'Good-afternoon, sir. It's Mr. Mountjoy, isn't it?' he said in a deep American-accented drawl. 'May I take your hat and coat? Miss Carrington is receiving her guests in the drawing-room.' I looked up at the tall, wide-shouldered man. He was a very handsome fellow of a light chocolate hue and, although his frizzy curly hair was jet black, his finely chiselled features suggested that he must have had at least one European grandparent. Presumably he is an old family retainer of Nancy's family, I thought to myself, as he opened the drawing-room door and announced my arrival to his mistress.
'Rupert, how super to see you-and what lovely flowers you've brought, you kind boy!' cried Nancy Carrington, who rose up from the sofa on which she had been sitting next to another extremely attractive, slightly older woman. 'I'm so pleased that you were able to join me for lunch today as I wanted you to meet a dear friend who I met in Paris earlier this year. Rupert, it is my great pleasure to introduce you to Countess Marussia of Samarkand. Marussia, this is my nice new neighbour Mr. Rupert Mountjoy.*Now I will have to ask the two of you to excuse me for a few moments as I have some last minute instructions for the kitchen staff.' As Nancy bustled out of the room I walked over and, taking the Countess's hand in my own, raised her fingers to my lips. 'Enchante, Comtesse,' I murmured. By George, she was a stunning lady, nearer thirty than twenty perhaps, with long reddish hair, a pale face, and big brown eyes. She was beautifully formed with high breasts, a lithe, slender body and then and there I would have wagered a thousand pounds that her long legs, hidden under her skirt, were as stylish as I expected. 'I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mountjoy,' said this delicious creature in a sensual low voice. 'Nancy tells me that you have recently graduated from Oxford University. Did you ever come across my cousin Celestine Dushanbe there by any chance?' Had I ever come across Celestine Dushanbe? How
I wish I could have replied in the affirmative for Celestine was without doubt one of the prettiest, most desirable girls in the whole of Oxford and the surrounding county. Like many others, I had unsuccessfully sought her favours but these were only bestowed upon the Honourable Michael Bailey, the handsome captain of the University fencing team and (it was rumoured) the young Lord Arkleigh who travelled up to dine with her almost every weekend from his Hertfordshire estate. 'Alas, no,' I replied with a sad little smile. 'I know of her, of course, but she was always surrounded by a bevy of admirers.' 'I'm sure she was,' said Countess Marussia, returning my smile. 'Celestine threw herself into her work with great passion and like all dedicated students, she practised what she preached, though of course in Celestine's case she thoroughly enjoyed the experience.' 'Did she, Countess? Why, what was she studying?' I asked politely, but nearly fell over backwards when the Countess answered, 'Human sexuality. Dear Celestine was one of a small group of researchers working with Dr Trevor Tyler, the internationally noted specialist on masturbation, on his new book The Facts Of Life, a much needed book which will be published early next year by Messrs Dyott amp; Gradegate.'
'I must remember to order a copy from Hatchards,' I said, recovering my composure and adding (for I had decided that the Countess was obviously a fellow free spirit), 'although I would have thought that Fucking For Beginners by Nigel Andrews might have already covered this ground.' 'Not really,' said the Countess, shaking her head, 'because excellent as Dr Andrews' volume is for, say, newly married couples, it can only be bought sub rosa by enlightened people who have already shaken off the atmosphere of guilt, fear and ignorance about sex and subscribe to such journals as The Oyster or The Jenny Everleigh Diaries. 'Dr Tyler, on the other hand, is composing a manual for the complete relationship between the sexes, starting from the premise that though love-making is one of the few subjects in which we all have an interest, the understanding of many people of their bodies is frequently minimal. There is still a large body of opinion which treats sexual desire as a dangerous animal that has to be kept muzzled. At present, the few sex education books available prescribe abstinence and chastity-such hypocrisy when one considers the bedroom sport enjoyed by Society at country house parties and the laissez-faire attitude taken by your very own King Edward!' As I nodded my agreement, I gnawed at my lower lip as I recalled the one opportunity I had missed of getting closer to Celestine Dushanbe. I had noticed a small advertisement in the University weekly newspaper for volunteers to take part in scientific research. I had expressed a vague interest to a friend but had hastily abandoned the thought of replying to the box number when he had opined that in all probability the advertiser was looking out for people to test their new medical pills and potions. I confessed this foolish blunder to the Countess who laughed and said, 'I must tell you that I remember Celestine writing to me about why she had placed that particular advertisement. She was discussing the “doggie position” with Dr Tyler who had told her that some people frowned upon it as being too animalistic although anatomically it is a most natural position of sexual congress. 'But look, you can read Celestine's report for yourself. One of the reasons I am here is that both Nancy and I have been asked by Dr Tyler to make any suggestions about his manuscript as we are both self-proclaimed liberated ladies. We were reading the section of his book which deals with Celestine's appreciation of being taken from behind.' She got up and walked across to a paper strewn table, picked up a sheet and passed it to me, saying, 'Come and sit down and glance through this page. I would be most interested any comment you might have to make.' I obeyed and read the following from an essay on sexual positions by Dr Tyler: 'My colleague Miss C.D. tried out rear entry with her boy friend and writes, in her own uncensored words: “I placed myself on my hands and knees, bending forward and throwing up my bottom cheeks as high as possible. My lover inserted his penis and began working it in and out of my love channel. He pressed heavily against me but there was no problem in supporting his weight. Perhaps this was because I was on my hands and knees with my back and thigh muscles (the strongest in the body) working. “The experience was thoroughly enjoyable as both his hands were free to fondle my breasts, legs and buttocks and he could bring his fingers round to my front and play with my clitoris which afforded an additional pleasure.'” 'How very interesting,'
The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.III Page 2
