Anonymous - The Oyster Volume VI

Then she looked at me closely and said: 'Excuse me, sir, aren't you Mr. Scott from over the road in Kendal Street?'

'Yes, I am,' I said and she gave me a charming smile. 'You don't recognize me, do you? Well, we only met once, about three months ago in the queue outside the Palace Theatre. My name is Edwina Robertson and I was with my best friend, your housekeeper, Mrs. Pelgram.'

Now at first I thought it impossible at such an early hour of the day, but I could have sworn I detected the smell of gin on her breath and when Mrs. Robertson went on: 'Beth Macdougall was top of the bill that week and when you told us that the bearded young gentleman standing beside you-a Mr. Hammond, if my memory serves me right-was her press agent I asked if he could get her autograph for us. Do thank Mr. Hammond when you next see him, sir, because, as he promised, signed photos of Miss Macdougall were waiting for us at the stage door after the performance.'

'Your memory does indeed serve you well,' I replied. I was now somewhat concerned because for no real reason my cock began to thicken and push itself out into a tenting bulge in the front of my trousers even though little more than performing my errand of mercy for Teddy was on my mind. Yet again, I failed to understand why my love truncheon was behaving as if it were an autonomous entity with a will of its own. Mrs. Robertson told me to come inside if there was anything I needed, saying that so long as I did not need to have a prescription made up, there was really no reason why she could not serve me.

So I entered the shop and she locked the door behind us as I mumbled that all I required was a bottle of aspirin tablets for my friend who was feeling unwell. Mrs. Roberston said: 'Ah! We've just taken delivery of a box of Professor Anthony Mulliken's Aspirins. These are a little more expensive, but they're supposed to be the best in the trade. Just a moment and I'll see if I can find them.'

She knelt down and searched through some half-opened boxes. When she triumphantly brought out the bottle she had been looking for, her face was level with the bulge in my crotch. I noticed her eyes widen and felt my cheeks begin to bum as I blushed with embarrassment. I cleared my throat and thanked her as Mrs. Robertson rose and pressed the bottle into my hand.

'It's very thoughtful of you to take such trouble for a friend,' she said. Now I was certain that I could smell alcohol when she breathed deeply and added: 'I wish there was somebody who cared enough about me to go out on my behalf if I fell ill. But my sister has moved down to Maidstone and Mr. Robertson has been away since April-he won't be back till next February at the earliest'

I wondered what circumstances had forced her husband to leave the matrimonial home for such a length of time. But I thought it impolite to ask, so I simply nodded my head sympathetically and enquired whether I might also purchase half a dozen fourpenny tubes of Vaseline.

'Yes, of course you can,' replied the buxom lady, giving me a grandstand view of the swell of her ample breasts as she bent down again to open another box. 'Six tubes, did you say? Who's the lucky girl, then?'

And then before I could make any rejoinder to this impertinent question, Mrs. Robertson's face crumpled up and her eyes filled with tears as she sobbed: 'Oh, Mr. Scott, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, that was the gin speaking. Please don't report me to Mr. Home or I'll get the sack. The fact is that since Herbert, my husband, has been away I've been so lonely and I won't deny that this isn't the first time I've popped a pocket flask into my handbag before leaving the house.'

So she had been drinking, after all! I felt I had to speak out and I said: 'Mrs. Robertson, forgive me saying so but in a responsible job like yours, that's really most unwise. Suppose you made a mistake and gave a customer the wrong medicine whilst you were under the influence of alcohol? The consequences could be tragic'

To my discomfiture, she continued crying so bitterly that I moved round behind the counter and put my arms around her shoulders to comfort her, saying: 'There, there, Mrs. Robertson, I didn't mean to upset you, though I hope you will consider what I said. But what is troubling you so much? Would you like to tell me why you need to drown your sorrows with drink before you go to work?'

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, 'I can see that Hettie Pelgram was right when she told me that you were a very kind-hearted gentleman,' she said in a low voice. 'So don't you know what happened to my husband? I thought it was common knowledge in West London as the court case was in all the newspapers. Well, not to beat about the bush, poor Herbert's doing twelve months in Wormwood Scrubs. Oh, he's not a real criminal, sir, but the silly fool fell in with a fast crowd and he tried to pay off his gambling debts by letting himself get involved in some City swindle.

'So, I've been on my own since April and I do miss him, Mr. Scott,' she sighed, putting her head against my chest as she continued: 'And I'll be frank with you, I'm a hot-blooded woman and I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day Herbert was arrested and taken to Paddington Green police station.'

Now what was I to do? It was quite obvious that the poor lady was extremely distressed, and I felt it incumbent on me to provide such comfort as I could.

It was difficult to realize what Mrs. Robertson wanted. Happily, she made it crystal clear when she whispered: 'The truth is that when I saw you standing outside the shop with a big hard-on between your legs, it brought back memories of how, when Mr. Home asked me to work late, Herbert used to come here at closing time and we would have a lovely little quickie in the stockroom before we went home. Oh, I can hardly tell you how frustrated it made me feel!'

'Well, if there is any way I can help ease this feeling,' I murmured softly. Her eyes lit up as she instantly replied: 'Oh yes, you certainly can, young man. Go into the back of the shop whilst I switch off all these lights.'

The thought of fucking this pretty lady had made my cock swell up to bursting point and I unbuttoned my flies in anticipation whilst I walked through into the stockroom. Seconds later I was standing against the wall with Mrs. Robertson's warm body pressed against me. As our lips met, she stuck her tongue deep into my mouth and ground her pussey against my stiff shaft.

We exchanged a passionate kiss. Then she muttered fiercely: 'Ahhh! How exciting to feel a thick prick rubbing against me again! Oooh, Mr. Scott, the very idea of having your cock slide into my cunt had made me all wet. Feel my quim and see for yourself.'

I ran my hand up her dress and found out that, after turning off the electric lights, Mrs. Robertson had also taken off her knickers because there was no impediment to my fingers slithering into her damp pussey bush. Her body trembled when I began to toy with her clitty and she moaned: 'Oh! Oh! Oh! Quickly now, take off your clothes and fuck me, you dear boy!'

Who could resist such a sweet command? Whilst I tore off my trousers, she too undressed swiftly and in no time at all we were locked in a naked embrace. The underside of my stiff shaft throbbed against her belly as our mouths meshed together and I fondled her large, pendulous breasts.

She reached out, grabbed my palpitating prick and guided me gently inside her. My knob sank between her cunney lips and into the welcoming love channel beyond, the walls of which closed deliciously over my cock, pulling me in deeper and deeper until my chopper was completely engulfed in her squelchy cunt. I drew back and she squealed with joy as I thrust myself into her again. I leaned back against the wall when the happy lady threw her arms around my neck and, with surprising dexterity, wrapped her legs around my waist, locking them behind me so that my prick was fully ensconced inside her sopping cunt.