Anonymous - The Romances Of Blanche La Mare

The Baron turned to us with the air of a successful showman. “Ladies,” he said, “you once or twice laughed at my inability to complete the act of fornication; if one of you will assist me, I will soon show you now that I do it.”

And this is how he did it; Gladys, her legs apart, was stretched on the big rug, the Baron knelt between her thighs, and the boy whose prick still remained stiff got into the old man's anus from behind. At once his withered cock stiffened, and in two shakes of a ducks arse, as the vulgar proverb has it, he had slipped down on to and into Gladys, the boy's prick still penetrating him. The boy buggered the Baron fucker, and Gladys wriggled. All of them very soon came; but the boy withdrew and the Baron got off the panting Gladys with a little grunt of triumph.

All were satisfied; all that is, save poor me, who had had nothing-but eventually I had the best of it. The boys washed their cocks in rose scented water. I took one dear little cock in my mouth, and the other up my back (it was not my first experience-but that is another story). I made the Baron suck my cunt but let me explain the position-I knelt and lay forward with the boy I was sucking underneath me. The Baron was also underneath me. The boy who was buggering me knelt behind me. With one hand I fingered the Baron's prick and with the other felt Glady's cunt. Gladys had her roving commission. One of her dear, soft little hands wandered over my body, and the other tossed off the boy I was sucking-thus everybody in four distinct ways. I had a cock in my mouth which delightfully stiff, yet not too big. (Big cocks give you cramp in the jaw muscles) I had a cock exactly the right size up my anus, and any girl who has been buggered knows the joys that is. My cunt was being licked by an expert in the art, and a dear girl was feeling my bosom, likewise I had the pleasure of tickling a cock with one hand and a cunt with the other. It was a pretty group. I could see it all in a mirror, and I only wish we could have had it photographed. We continued for about ten minutes, till every one concerned had spent, even including the Baron, it took about a pint of old, old brandy to pull him straight afterwards.

Gladys who had watched the boy buggering me, had noticed that I enjoyed it very much, now had the presumption to express her opinion that she could take a prick up her back door. So she knelt on the rug, and one of the boys placed his weapon at the entrance. He had a hard time of it, and wasted some little time getting into her virgin rosette, but with the aid of some saliva, at last went all the way into her, and I think she enjoyed his buggering immensely.

One of the last acts in the comedy was a more simple one, savoring indeed, somewhat of the diversions of our sailors when far from land. The Baron put up a five pound note as a prize for which boy could come first. My boy, I am pleased to say, won hands down, thus once more exemplifying the old proverb that experience will tell. He spent with a scream of delight, occasioned, no doubt, by the mixed joy of the action and the reflection that his feat had earned him five pounds.

Subsequently we all sat down to a light refreshment of tea, cakes and champagne-all naked as we were, and I encouraged the boys to talk. Those in favor of the disestablishment of the Church of England would have received the confessions of these pretty choir boys as valuable testimony.

They owned up frankly that at the fashionable church where they were employed, not only the curates, who were mostly young Oxford men of good family and some means, but the vicar himself, a cadet of a noble house were addicted to the vice of sodomy. The boys were picked for their good looks, providing of course, that their voices were also good, and were speedily demoralized. Thus the vicar and the curates of St. — ran a sodomic harem in the name of the Almighty. It was a church frequently attacked by John Kesnit. Had that worthy zealot known as much as we did, he might have attacked more than the vestments and the incense.

The boys had no shame; in fact they gloried in their sin, and one of them reeled off a string of distinguished names, the bearers of which had sunk their penises in his little bottom.

Gladys and I, to round off the party, had another go at this sport. She seemed to have taken quite a delight in this form of fornication. While her boy was working away in her rear parlor, Gladys wriggled her arse like a fairy. The old Baron laughed uproariously at her antics, and twitted her about her previous remark anent her tight little arse-hole that no man could get into — offering to bet that even he could get into her now.

After a short rest Gladys let him try it, at the expense of a diamond ring, and he soon succeeded in shoving his big joystick up in her pooper, causing her to squeal with rapture.

But to return to the earlier history of Blanche La Mare, so scandalously interrupted by the Baron and his boys.

I will skip all further details of my life in London till the Herbert Restall Company got away on tour. We were to open at Oxford and the “train call” was for Paddington, 11:30 of one memorable Sunday morning. I turned up early, unaccompanied, for Madame Karl had gone out to supper the night before, and had not returned-perhaps as a little revenge for my absences.

Still, I was not the first on the platform, and I soon got to learn that the habit of theatrical companies was to arrive very early at the station, and exhibit their best frocks. I had my best frock on, and I'm certain it was the best in the company. Herbert Restall cast an admiring glance at me when he arrived. He did not speak to me, and I noted the reason, his wife, an angular lady past fifty, and of forbidding and none-conformist type of countenance, followed him everywhere.

We had a special train from platform number three, and I was engaged in looking for it, when Annesley appeared.

“Madame Karl is so sorry she couldn't get back,” he apologized, “but her cousin was ill, and-.”

“Never mind the explanations,” I cut him short. “I hope you both enjoyed yourselves.”

To judge from the lines under his eyes, he had.

He found me the train, and he found me also the acting manager, who was engaged in gumming labels on the carriage windows; labels indicative of the compartments to be occupied by various members of the company. Thanks also to Annesley's introduction, I was not put to travel with the chorus ladies, but with the two “Sisters Knock,” the dancers, to whom also Annesley introduced me, and we all repaired to the bar together, in which pleasant spot were assembled the majority of the company, some seventy all told.

To Annesley's introduction I owed a pleasant journey, for the two sisters Knock turned out jolly companions, and very soon threw off any reserve. We stelled into our corners; I produced my cigarette case, and conversation very soon became not only general, but free.

They were neither of them girls who made the slightest pretence of being moral; they took it for granted that I was the same. They were pretty girls, hopelessly uneducated and common, but possessing a certain subtle gaminerie that gave them an odd charm of manner. They were dancers, wherefore it is not necessary to do more than state that their figures were excellent. They were absurdly alike, in face, figure, eyes, hair and everything and by dressing alike, down to the very smallest detail, they made it very difficult for anyone but their most intimate friends to tell the difference. Once, when I knew them better, I ventured to remonstrate with them on this point.

“You must at least make a point of helping people to decide between you.” I said. But the eldest Miss Knock, who was generally the spokeswoman of the two, was not at all of my way of thinking. “My dear stupid little darling,” she opined, “That's exactly why we keep the deception up. We don't want people to know the difference. Now, barring that Maud's got a bit of a mole on her left hip which I haven't, we're just about as alike as two peas.”