Anonymous - The Oyster Volume VI

Since New Year's Day when I had sworn to give up the noxious weed, I found the smell of tobacco offensive and, being only a light smoker, Teddy had no objection to travelling in a no-smoking compartment. It looked as though we might have it to ourselves until just before our departure when a young, well-dressed couple came in. From the way they squeezed themselves tightly together and burbled sweet nothings in each other's ears, I speculated that they might be honeymooners, a conjecture which was soon proved valid in an astonishing manner.

More of this anon; meanwhile, as the train chugged out of Marylebone, I settled down and leafed through a copy of the Daily News whilst Teddy immersed himself in Mr. Jason Kelvin's latest mystery thriller 21b Lyttelton Road which he had purchased at the station bookstall. We gathered speed as we passed through the suburban stations. I was thoroughly enjoying the trip and actually finished reading the newspaper which for some odd reason I never find time to do at home.

Then I rose to my feet. Teddy put down his book, followed me out into the corridor and said: 'Andrew, would you like to join me for tea and biscuits in the restaurant?'

'No thanks, old boy, I only got up to wash my hands,' I answered. Then, before my chum could say anything more, an elderly gentleman wearing a clerical collar walking towards us stopped, peered at Teddy and cried out: 'Bless my soul, unless I'm much mistaken it's young Teddy Carmichael. My dear chap, what a happy coincidence to meet you on the Oxford train.'

Teddy gave him a glassy smile and said: indeed it is, sir. I don't think we've seen each other since you retired down to Winchelsea. How are you and Mrs. Ball keeping?'

'Capital, thank you, dear boy,' he beamed. 'Do come and say hallo to her yourself, she'll be delighted to see you. She's in the next carriage having a cup of tea in the restaurant.'

Teddy looked at me in despair as he attempted to find a way out. 'Padre, I don't think you know my chum, Andrew Scott. Andrew, this gentleman is Canon Gabriel Ball who for many years was the vicar of St Peter's in Wisborough.'

'And who happened to be the temporary choirmaster when Teddy sang in the Church choir,' said the Man of the Cloth with a surprisingly roguish twinkle in his eyes.

Canon Ball: how appropriate a name, I thought to myself as I shook hands with the Man of God. 'How do you do, sir? How interesting to know that Teddy sang in the Church choir. He has never mentioned this to me. Has he been hiding his light under a bushel?'

'Well, he was one of our finest boy sopranos but, alas, his career did come to, ah, a rather dramatic end,' chuckled the cleric as he elbowed Teddy gently in the ribs. 'However, I think it best that Teddy himself gives you chapter and verse about the events which led to his expulsion. Now, Mr. Scott, I am going to haul this young rascal off to take tea with my wife and you are, of course, very welcome to join us.'

'Thank you, sir, but if you will excuse me, I have some important papers to read before we arrive in Woodstock,' I said, grinning to myself as I turned my head to watch Canon Ball lead my resigned chum to the restaurant car whilst I walked along the corridor to wash the newsprint from my hands.

I must note how impressed I was by the gleaming white pristine towels, the roll of son crepe toilet paper and the high standard of cleanliness in the washroom. I returned in good spirits to the compartment where I saw that the shutter had been pulled down over the glass in the door. I guessed that this had been done by the young couple opposite. This was confirmed when I slid open the door to find the pair already spooning, although they immediately broke off the embrace as I passed to take my seat in the comer by the window. Not wishing to embarrass them, I said nothing but gave them a friendly smile to show that I was in no way offended by their kissing and cuddling.

The regular rhythm of the wheels clattering along the rails soon made me drowsy so I put down the newspaper and closed my eyes. However, to the later discomfiture of the lovers opposite, I was merely dozing and not, as they fondly imagined, deep in the arms of Morpheus. I distinctly heard the young chap whisper: 'Look at him, Ellen, he's fast asleep. I'll lock the door, though: the other fellow's probably gone off for a cigarette and a coffee so there's no need to wait any longer'

'Are you sure he's asleep, Cyril?' enquired the girl softly and Cyril happily assured his beloved that I had indeed nodded off.

Looking back on what followed, I dare say that at this preliminary stage I could have prevented matters from getting out of hand simply by yawning and letting my eyes flutter open. But I readily confess that I was wondering why they were so happy to see me take forty winks, although, from the flushed excitement on Cyril's face, I hardly needed to be Sherlock Holmes to have a pretty good idea of what was in his mind!

So I continued to feign sleep. But about two minutes later, I opened my eyes just enough to see the honeymooners locked into a passionate clinch with Cyril's hands roaming across Ellen's breasts whilst her fingers were fumbling with the buttons of his flies. Omnia vincit amor, I said to myself, even to the extent of making these lovers disregard the very real danger of landing up in the police court charged with indecent behaviour-not, of course, that I would have ever pressed charges or given evidence against them.

Nevertheless, I was still startled when I saw Ellen's hand dive into Cyril's trousers and pull out his quivering stiff cock. Cyril writhed in delicious agony as she rubbed his twitching tool vigorously before leaning forward and brushing her lips against his uncapped knob.

'Aaaah! Aaaah!' he gasped wildly as Ellen sucked his prick in between her lips. She bobbed her head up and down until Cyril's hips jerked upwards and he spunked into her warm wet mouth. Then she raised her head slightly and giggled as she licked his cock clean before stuffing his now limp shaft back into his trousers.

'Gosh, that was wonderful, darling!' enthused Cyril as he swiftly buttoned himself up. 'Isn't it marvellous to be able to enjoy ourselves without listening out in case your parents come downstairs to see what we are up to in the sitting room?'

'Yes, dear, but as we're now married, couldn't you have waited until we reached the hotel?' smiled Ellen as she wiped her lips with a pretty lace handkerchief. 'Let's face it, if that gentleman opposite had woken up we wouldn't have known where to put our faces.'

'Very true, my darling, and I promise I'll be a good boy till we're safely in our bedroom at the Randolph Hotel,' answered Cyril as he planted a huge wet kiss on her cheek.

Then I actually did fall asleep and was woken up by the sound of a knock on the door. Cyril sprang up to release the bolt and Teddy stumbled in and let out a long sigh of relief as he sat down beside me.

'Didn't you enjoy yourself with the Balls?' I asked and he looked sharply at me as I added: 'Oh very well, Canon and Mrs. Ball, if you prefer. Teddy, you sly dog, you never told me that you were ever in a church choir, let alone expelled from one! Did Canon Ball catch you playing conkers during evensong? Or did the curate find a copy of The Oyster underneath your cassock?'

'Certainly not,' he replied indignantly. Then, lowering his voice, he said: if you really want to know the sordid details, I'll tell you all about what happened when we're alone.'

He picked up his book and I stared out of the window, watching the countryside roll by as the Stratford-Upon-Avon express raced on at great speed though the Chiltern Hills towards Oxford which we reached almost ten minutes ahead of schedule. There the honeymooners alighted and we had the compartment to ourselves whilst the engine driver waited for the signal to proceed on to Woodstock.