Ramrod: A nocturnal meeting

'Sing out you two fuckers when you are going to spend-but I see you're just coming, for Ethel's cunt is opening and shutting fast. Ah, here we are!' We both gave several quick lurches, and grabbed frantically at any flesh under our hands. Then Ethel's bottom subsided, burying my cock to the root, and Rose humorously swore she could hear the spunk fizzing into her daughter's belly.

My prick dropped out and she closed the lips of the freshfucked twat and bade Ethel hold them so. Reclining on the couch, which I now saw threw her crack well up, she drew Ethel astride of her.

'Now, show your mettle, Harry. Here's a couple of loving and most fucksome women: do something to show you are pleased with your good luck. Don't leave all the indecencies to us. Suck these cunts, my dear lad.' By this time, warmed, too, with wine, my native randiness had got its head. I was game for anything, and made no difficulty about extracting from the pink little cunny the semen I had just lavished there, nor of heartily gamahuching the much more formidable gash below. I took care at the same time to sodomise both bottoms with my finger.

'Charming,' said Ethel, 'he's a regular love, mamma, and I'm so glad we fell in with him.' 'Yes,' said Rose, drawing all three of us in front of a mirror: 'he is a strong-backed, lusty-pricked young gentleman' (running her hands most pleasantly over my bottom and between my thighs, and again sucking my breasts), 'a fine plum for two amorous bitches like ourselves. What do you think of us, Harry? You have never seen anything like this, have you?' She pointed to their figures in the mirror and certainly had reason to be proud of the sight, for it revealed a luxuriant, voluptuous woman, with magnificent bubbies and formidable thighs, supporting a powerful arse and broad curving belly, while by her side were the rounded, tempting limbs of a naked girl whose handsome face was beaming with amiability and whose eye was moist with a store of passion still only partly drawn upon, but as munificent as her mother's.

I hugged and kissed them rapturously, and they returned my embraces with interest.

'Do you know what I am going to do?' said Rose with resolution, and a glitter in her eye. 'I am… going… to… suck… your… arse… hole… my boy.

Yes, I am' (in response to a look of astonishment), 'I'm damned if I'm not, and I'm going to let you see me do it.' 'It may be dirty,' laughed Ethel.

'I don't care if it is a little… high. A bit of flavour only adds piquancy to the act-not that I do this to many. I generally leave my sweethearts to do that for me, but this boy has got under my skin, and I'd lick his arse if he'd just come from the crapper… there! Down you get, or if you like I'll lie back in this low chair, and you can rest your bum on my face. You will see equally well, and Ethel can amuse herself sucking your prick.' I preferred this arrangement, and felt quite elated to see the handsome woman dart her tongue into my most shameful recess, and carefully draw it up and down the whole length of the dark ravine between my buttocks. Ethel appropriated the dangling penis, and for a few moments both mouths were silently at work.

'There, Harry,' said Rose, with a sigh of satisfaction at the performance of this act of wantonness; 'it may be a long time before another woman will do that for you. I suppose you must think we are a curious pair.

Frankly, what do you think of us?' 'I think you are just too fucksome for words. I am sure no regular whores would have treated me to such a regale as you have. But you are not whores.' 'Only when we get into the company of a handsome persuasive young gentleman' (I could not see I had exercised much persuasion), 'naked like this. And then, as you see, we treat him as no professional would, even were she paid for it, except perhaps at a very high price. And all for affection. There is no argument like a good standing prick on a fine young fellow to bring out a woman's randiness. While Ethel is sucking yours into order I will tell you something about ourselves, and you will then understand how we come to enjoy ourselves as inclination directs without shame or reserve. By night we are two unrestrained fuckers, like this, or will be, for Ethel, as you know, has only just begun; by day we are two respectable ladies moving in good society.' We took up a negligent pose on the broad bed, Ethel lying between my legs, supported upon her elbows and sucking my soft prick like a lollipop. Occasionally she titillated my bollocks, or 'postillioned' my anus as she called it (a word I now know to be borrowed from our inventive friends across the Channel). Her mother, spreading her thighs wide, openly frigged herself with a slow and easy motion or, from time to time, guided my hand to the sensitive aperture and made me do it for her. With the other hand she held her bosom to my mouth in order to get the delicious tickling imparted by the impact of my tongue on the point of her titty. These caresses were not without effect, for every now and again a shiver swept over her and made the tremulous flesh quiver.

The glorious obscenity of it all was faithfully reflected in the mirror, where at the same time I could see both Rose's taper fingers, covered with rings, toying with her great cunt, and her daughter's ivory bottom, with legs flung upwards, and the opening of the slit in the dim recess between. In this manner we heard.

I was only a titter, not as old as Ethel here, when I fell madly in love with my husband. George was a handsome, rake-hellish devil whose reputation was common property. I knew very well he was a confirmed cunt-hunter, but like many another girl I was completely bowled over by his fascinations, and I would listen to no remonstrances or warnings.

In vain they told me I was too young to think of marrying. I was no innocent, despite my tender age, and I was persuaded I could hold my own in amorous conflict with a man. Still, I had some sense left in my noddle, for I wouldn't let my lover fuck me till he had married me. It was hard work to prevent him though, for his unguarded and lubricious caresses awoke a little demon in my quim to which, until then, I had been a stranger.

He used to squeeze my bubbies and bottom in the openest way, and rub his prick against my thighs and hands, so that I could not help feeling it-and, Lord! what a size it seemed, exaggerated by the folds of his clothes. More than once I left him so excited that I woke up in the middle of a wet dream, spending profusely. I fancied he was in my arms, ramming fast and furiously, and when I came to my senses I was bucking eagerly, and my quim drenched. His contact, even his presence, moved me so much that I was ready to spend if he touched me, and one day I did. He was mugging me in his usual fucksome style, and his hand touched my motte. Instantly, and without my having the slightest power to prevent it, the hidden springs burst, and a torrent flowed from my excited cranny. For the life of me I could not but give way to my feelings, and found myself openly and without the least attempt at concealment thrusting my belly backwards and forwards against him, just as many a time since I have responded to the throes of a lover's prick. He saw the effect, the brute, and took advantage of my helplessness to put his hand up my clothes.

'Good God, Rose,' he cried, 'why, you shoot it out like a man! Your drawers are dripping, and it's running down into your stockings. What a hot little cat. If you spend like this for a wisp of tongue in your mouth, what will you do for six inches of cock up your thing?' I escaped from him in confusion, only to repeat the scene the next time we came together. On this occasion he was ready for me, and as soon as he observed the signal of distress, thrust his hand between my thighs…