For a start, the mistress will be engaged with Standlake for at least another ten minutes and I'm sure she'd want to say good-bye to you before you leave.' 'Jolly good, then I'll gladly stay and listen to you.' I said, snuggling myself on the bed next to her as she lay with her head on my shoulder and her fingers still toying with my limp shaft. 'Well, it all began three years ago when I left school and took up service in Lord and Lady Jackson's house in Grosvenor Street.
It was a very happy household but when her son Terence came back home from Cambridge University for the Christmas holidays, I was silly enough to become intimately involved with him. 'He was a nice, good-looking boy and from the moment he first saw me I could tell that he was as attracted to me as I was to him. Well, it all started one evening when the master and mistress were out at one of Sir Barry Gray's literary soirees in Chelsea. Terry's sister was also out so I knew that he would be alone in the sitting-room. So I marched in there after supper on the pretence of tidying up the newspapers and changing the ashtrays as Lord Jackson smokes those big Cuban cigars. Terry was sitting in an armchair reading the evening paper but I could see him eyeing me over the top of the page as I leaned down in front of him to see if the ashtray on the side table needed emptying. I was wearing a frilly white blouse and I had purposely undone the top two buttons so that the swell of my breasts must have been visible to him. I knew that he would have loved to feel them but, being a polite young gentleman, needed some sign of encouragement before even speaking to me. 'So I deliberately emptied a few grains of cigar ash on his trousers! “Oh, I am sorry. Master Terence, here, I'll brush it off for you,” I said, and started to flick away the ash which had landed on his thigh. 'We began to talk and one thing led to another and after about ten minutes I found myself sitting on his lap with my head resting lightly on his shoulder. I was still unsure how to react but then Terry suddenly turned my face up to his and kissed me passionately on the lips.
'I felt a sudden tingling rush of excitement surge through me. There was something so special about his kiss that it made it impossible for me not to respond. His hand slipped down from my shoulder to down underneath my arm and then I felt his fingers close gently over my breast whilst at the same time his tongue sank inside my mouth and his other hand began stroking my thigh under the hem of my skirt.
'Now everything was happening so fast that I didn't even consider trying to resist these unexpected advances. I just sat cuddling him, soaking up the lovely sensations of his kisses and his touches. 'His hand soon reached the top of my legs and his thumb began a delicious stroking of my pussey as I pressed my lips even more firmly against his and his fingers now probed downwards and rubbed against my dampening crack. He then started to tug at my knickers and I lifted my bum off his thighs to allow him to pull them right off.
Then I felt my whole body vibrate with pleasure as his thumb rubbed against my clitty and I held on to him as tightly as I could. At that moment, I think we both knew for sure that we wanted to fuck, but as I said, Terry Jackson was a real gentleman because he whispered, “Lucy, before we reach the point of no return, are you certain that you want to make this journey?” 'He need have had no fear for I would have been glad and willing to let him do anything he wanted with my curvy young body. So I simply whimpered when Terry stopped fondling my titties but began undoing the rest of the buttons on my blouse. He slipped it off me completely and then unhooked my chemise and I raised my arms so that he could pull it up and over my shoulders. Now his hands ran firmly over my bare breasts, tracing circles around my stiffening nipples with the tips of his fingers. Then he lowered his head and took one of my erect titties in his mouth and the wet friction of his tongue made it tingle with delight as he sucked it firm and deep between his lips. 'My skirt was next to come off and I was now naked except for my stockings which were held up by two frilly garters. I trembled with desire as he passed a hand over my hairy muff and my cunney was fairly aching for more attention. Yet he still did not attempt to proceed further and it suddenly struck me that Terry might be concerned that I was a virgin! So I nibbled his ear and whispered, “Don't be worried about deflowering me, Master Terry, because in South London where I come from, I don't think there's a girl over sixteen who hasn't had a cock in her cunney at some time or another.” “This did the trick and I helped him undress until he stood naked in front of me with his thick, stiff cock standing high against his tummy. He stretched me out on the big settee and knelt alongside, kissing my breasts and belly and running his hands up and down my thighs. My excitement grew stronger and stronger and I lovingly clutched at his head of curly brown hair, moaning my approval as he now pressed his mouth onto my bushy mound. The sensation of his moist lips felt truly heavenly and when I felt his tongue starting to wash its way around my ditty, I almost fainted away with the sheer ecstasy of the wonderful waves of pleasure which emanated from my cunt and coursed their way through my body. I pushed my pussey up against Terry's face and parted my legs as he now licked even harder at my clitty and at the same time began to prise open my cunney lips with his fingers. He sank his forefinger slowly into my sopping slit, making me gasp as he eased a second and then a third digit deeper and deeper inside my love channel. 'Although I'd been fucked by Mr. Hollingberry, our next door neighbour, and by Charlie Haynes and Tim Hutchinson, two boys who lived in the next street, Terry Jackson's wicked tongue and clever fingers were thrilling me like I'd never been thrilled before. My clitty was buzzing with a marvellous feeling which I never before experienced. He twisted his fingers round as he now thrust four fingers in and out of my dripping cunney which made the buzz feel more and more wonderful as he finger fucked me up towards a spend. He realised that my climax was approaching when I began to quiver because he licked harder than ever at my clitty and his fingers raced faster and faster out of my sopping honeypot. When I felt myself on the verge of spending my body jerked wildly but he held his head firmly against my cunney whilst I squeezed my nipples and drummed my feet against the cushions. The fabulous pressure of Terry's tongue and fingers kept me at the peak of pleasure for what seemed an incredibly long time-and even when my orgasm finally subsided, I was still feeling very fruity and eager to continue. More than anything, though, I wanted to repay Terry for the gorgeous time he had given me. 'So I urged him to change places and to lie on his back on the settee and I knelt between his legs. His throbbing cock stood up like a flagpole between his thighs and I grasped it with the intention of spitting myself upon the smooth, pink mushroomed knob. But then I remembered that it was not the most propitious time of the month for fucking and anyway I had nothing in my room with which to douche. With a crestfallen look on my face I told him that perhaps I shouldn't let him fuck me after all-this was a terrible thing to have to say for after what had just gone on it was like leading a man dying of thirst in the desert to an oasis and then as he was about to drink warning him that the water was poisoned! 'But Terry did not show any great irritation with me. He simply stroked my hair and said, “Don't worry, Lucy, I'll be just as happy if you'll suck my cock instead.” '“Of course I will,” I said, not wanting to let him know that I had never taken a prick in my mouth before this time. But I'd heard all about how men love being brought off this way and my friend Nellie had told me about how nice it was to lick and lap at a thick prick and how clean and fresh spunk tasted.
“It can't get your belly up either, my girl,” she had also told me, which was certainly an added attraction as far as I was concerned.
'Nevertheless, the question was whether I would be able to do it well enough for Terry. Now of course, I knew how men liked to be tossed off, and my boy friends had all said that I was very good at giving them hand-jobs, if you'll forgive the expression, sir.
'Anyway, I decided to have a go, and I held the thick base of Terry's prick with one hand and rubbed his shaft up and down with the other as I leaned down and nervously flicked my tongue over the smooth dome of his uncapped helmet. He groaned and lay back with his eyes tightly closed
as I repeated this sensual experiment. I must say that I found the sensation of licking his cock much nicer than I'd expected and I could tell from his throbbing tool and his heavy breathing that I must be doing it well. 'Now I gradually eased the crown of his cock into my mouth, nibbling the hot, smooth pole and sucking harder as I moved my hand which had been clutching his shaft downwards to caress his hairy ballsack. I pushed in as much of his thick, rigid rod as I could and for the very first time, sucked and slurped at this lewd lollipop. Terry stretched out his arm and began to frig my cunney as his prick began to twitch and I guessed that the spunk would soon be spouting out. Then with a cry he filled my mouth with a gorgeous spray of frothy warm jism and his shaft bucked wildly as I gulped down all the creamy liquor, which tasted slightly salty but was as pleasant and refreshing to drink as Nellie had told me. I gobbled his jerking prick, rather noisily sucking out every last milky drop of sperm, as Terry's fingers now helped bring me to another voluptuous spend.
'“Was that good for you?” I enquired anxiously, and he smiled up at me. “Lucy, that was truly wonderful,” he murmured softly, and would have undoubtedly said more when we heard a ring on the front door bell. I grabbed my clothes and rushed out into the hall and fled upstairs to my room. In fact, the unexpected visitor was only Arthur Barker, an old chum of Terry's who undoubtedly would have loved to have looked on or better still joined in the canoodling. I did come down later at Terry's request and we did enjoy a romp with Arthur along with Jemima, the scullery maid. But that is another story.'
I looked at my watch again and said, 'Lucy, thank you very much for your entertaining little anecdote, but I really must be leaving.
Do you think Miss Carrington has finished with Standlake yet?' 'I would imagine so, sir, for as Miss Nancy told me recently, she finds his oversized shaft uncomfortable if it stays too long in her cunney.'
That doesn't surprise me,' I declared as I began to dress.
'Another time perhaps, you will be able to demonstrate your skills as a fellatrice to me.' Her eyes sparkled as she nodded her head and said, 'I'd love to, Mr. Mountjoy. Bring a friend along and I'll show you how I can suck two cocks at once-so long as your friend doesn't have such a giant prick as Standlake!' I made a mental note of her promise and chuckled as I realised that her caveat would rule out my oldest chum Frank Folkestone of whom I had frankly always been a mite jealous as his chopper was by far the biggest amongst all the boys at St Lionel's Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk. It would be an admittedly malicious pleasure to call Frank and tell him sadly that his tool was too large to be sucked off along with my own by this randy young minx. I bid Lucy good-afternoon and met Nancy at the foot of the stairs. Her face was flushed, her chest was heaving and her clothes were somewhat dishevelled, but she smiled broadly at me and gasped, 'Ah, Rupert, you're just the man I need. Would you allow me to lean on your shoulder as we walk to the drawing-room? I've been really well fucked by Standlake, but I need to lie down for half an hour.' 'Of course,' I said, preferring my arm which she took in her hands. 'I have also been entertained very nicely by Lucy although I was frankly hors de combat. But though I didn't fuck her she told me a lively tale which I will set down in my diary as soon as I get home.
'Nancy, thank you once again for a delicious luncheon and for our post-prandial fun and games. I will telephone you this evening once I have checked my diary and I do hope that you will allow me to return your hospitality.' We reached the drawing-room and I helped her onto the sofa. 'Phew, that's better,' she exclaimed with a heavy sigh.
'I'll be walking bandy-legged this evening, but I will have no-one but myself to blame. I know I really shouldn't take in Standlake's huge tool after being fucked by another man but my blood was up and as Oscar Wilde said, I can resist anything except temptation! 'Rupert, my dear, I look forward to your call. I am dining with Mr. Home of The Grove Gallery this evening at Romano's so would you telephone before seven o'clock?' 'Yes, I'll call in an hour or so. But how strange you should be meeting Mr. Horne tonight. I happened to meet him only last week at my Club where he gave a talk on these new French painters, the post-impressionists, he called them, who have been creating quite a stir on the Continent. Are you in the market for some pictures, Nancy?' 'In a manner of speaking,' she answered, settling herself down on the sofa. 'My father is a keen collector and he has telegraphed five thousand dollars to my bank account in London so I should be able to buy anything that I think he would like.' 'No wonder Garry Home is taking you out to dinner!'
I laughed, as Standlake now appeared with my hat and coat. 'But if you really are looking for some worthwhile paintings, Nancy, I would very much like to show you some work by a very good friend of mine, who used to live very near my own Yorkshire home.' Then I explained to her about my involvement with Diana Wigmore. I finished by saying that Diana was corning back to England shortly for the important reception given by the local big wigs for the King. Then I had a brainwave and I said, 'Nancy, why not come to York with me and meet Diana for yourself? She has a wide selection of her work at her parents' home and I will telegraph her and tell her to bring some of her latest pictures back with her from Paris. 'You'll stay at Albion Towers, our family seat, of course, and there will be no problem arranging an invitation for you to the party to meet His Majesty. My father is an old chum of the Deputy Lord Lieutenant of the County who is in charge of the whole affair.' Like all Americans, Nancy was fascinated by royalty and she clapped her hands in delight.
'Gosh, you mean I might meet King Edward himself?' she said excitedly.
'Sure, I'd love to go up to York with you -but I insist on buying the train tickets, especially if I'm to stay at your house. No, Rupert, I won't have it any other way. You have to live on the allowance your Uncle Humphrey has generously set aside for you whilst I have more money than I know what to do with. Anyhow, Papa can probably use the receipts to offset against his income tax. So when you telephone me in about an hour, give me all the details of the trip.' I kissed her good-bye and supped on my hat and coat which Standlake had been patiently holding in his hands. I walked briskly across the Square and as soon as I was home I wrote out a telegraph to Diana telling her that I would definitely be going to York and that I was also writing to her about my plans. Then I scrawled a letter to my father to say that I would come up for the party and that I would be bringing a guest. Miss Nancy Carrington, with me, falsely adding that the relationship between us was strictly platonic because I did not want my Mama to start hearing marriage bells. Edwards came into the drawing room with a copy of the evening newspaper and I gave him instructions to telegraph my message to Diana immediately and to post my letter to my father. I settled down to read my newspaper but was interrupted by a knock on the door. 'Come in,' I called, and Mary, the pretty maid I had bum-fucked before luncheon, came in and said in a timid voice, 'I'm sorry to trouble you, sir, but I wondered if you would like to have me again this evening. It's my night off and I've nothing to do and nowhere to go.' 'Dear, dear, that's a sorry state of affairs,' I said, folding the paper, and looking up at the demure girl who was standing with her eyes cast down modestly to the floor. Though I must say, Mary, how surprised I am that an attractive girl like you hasn't any followers.' Her face coloured a pretty shade of pink as she said, To be honest, Mr. Mountjoy, I was going to the music hall with PC Shackleton, but he's been told he has to work an extra shift as three constables at his station are ill with influenza.' 'A policeman's lot is not a happy one,' I said sympathetically, as I hummed the eponymous chorus from the Gilbert and Sullivan opera. 'Still, his loss is my gain. I'd be happy to take you to the music hall, Mary. Where did you want to go?' The Alhambra Theatre. Fred Karno's topping the bill,' she said, her face brightening up and her eyes sparkling as she added, 'Oh, you are a kind gentleman, sir.' It was my turn to blush, for my motives were hardly as pure as the driven snow! Although I had already enjoyed what some may call a surfeit of fucking that day, I was never one to turn down the chance of a further frolic. So I said
to her, 'It might be a little awkward if we leave the house together, Mary. Why don't we meet at the corner of Gower Street at six o'clock. We'll take in the first house and then we'll have a bite of supper at my Club. But not a word about this to Mrs. Harrow or any of the other staff-it'll be our little secret.' 'I won't say a word to anyone, cross my heart,' promised Mary, and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before happily scurrying out back to her room. I grinned as I scoured the sports page of the newspaper. To my great joy I read that Fairbridge's Organ had skated home at eight to one in the two o'clock race at Doncaster. Old Goldhill, our family servant back at Albion Towers, who was a keen follower of the sport of kings, had written to me about this horse which was raining today in preparation for the Royal Hunt Cup. I had staked a fiver with my Club's head porter who acted as our unofficial bookmaker, so my evening out with Mary would now be doubly pleasing: I could pick up my winnings when we dined at the Jim Jam after the theatre. A seraphic smile creased my lips as it occurred to me that I could fairly claim, after my fol-de-rols with Countess Marussia, a place to ride in the Royal Hunt Cup! Anyway, I managed to take a quick nap before Edwards brought me tea and sandwiches and after refreshing myself (fucking always gives me an appetite-despite the ample luncheon I was still able to scoff a couple of sandwiches and a pastry), I telephoned Nancy Carrington and we finalised arrangements to go up to York. I also invited her to dine with me next Wednesday evening along with Michael Reynolds, one of my favourite cousins, who being a year older than myself, was already beavering away in his third year as a medical student at the Royal Free Hospital up in Hampstead. Michael was a lusty lad who would appreciate Nancy's liking for free love and I was sure that the girl he was bringing along-a most attractive petite Portuguese girl named Sheila de Souza, whose soft feminine curves and flashing, lustrous eyes turned men's heads as she walked down the street-would be similarly broad-minded. There was barely time to shave, shower and change my clothes but at six o'clock on the dot, I carefully descended the front door steps and walked purposefully towards the corner of Bedford Square and Gower Street where I could see Mary was already waiting for me. Suddenly, the stern words uttered by my father in a private man-to-man talk shortly after my sixteenth birthday crossed my mind. One must never be too intimate with the servants, he had admonished me after seeing Polly the chambermaid leaving my room looking flustered and breathing hard as if she had been running a race-as well she might, incidentally, because the lusty young lass had just ridden a vigorous St George on my stiff cock till I had ejaculated a copious emission of jism up her clinging cunney! My father had gone on to warn me that my behaviour would be bound to lead to problems when the relationship ended, and to be fair, the pater's advice was sensible enough. After all, though I would never simply turn out a girl who became troublesome (especially if she was enceinte), on the other hand, as my Indian pal, Prince Salman, used to say, why make problems for yourself in your own home? But when I caught sight of Mary's pretty face, all thoughts of caution were thrown to the wind. Taking a deep breath, I marched on, and she ran towards me and lifted up her face to be kissed. Arm in arm, we walked down towards Great Russell Street where I hailed a taxi-cab and told the driver to speed us post haste to the Alhambra Theatre.
The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.III Page 5
