Anonymous - Julie

What they expected, I do not know, for they were absolutely not the kind that I wish to entertain Or be associated with. They were vulgar, my dear, and nouveau riche, the father being in the railway business or something contingent. I allowed them to see me at my worst-quite deliberately, of course, and they departed taking their coddled and plump daughter with them. In that there was no loss to me! The recent occasion has been quite different. Sir Bertram (as I had best discreetly call him) announced by letter his impending arrival together with his wife and daughter. His letter was of good address, of course. I mused upon it. By some whim also he had inserted with his letter a photograph of the daughter, Dorothy (such dull names do you English give your girls!). I was taken with her. Suzanne and Emily were permitted to muse upon her likeness and uttered certain noises of enthusiasm. “I would love to cuddle her!” Suzanne declared.

Tut-tut, she was scarce sixteen, I said-for so the letter described. I but pretended to prudery, of course, in respect of age. Some girls of fifteen are perfectly ripe for the cock-some not. One judges as one finds! “Let her come! Shall you, Madam?” begged Emily, with I all the time pursing up my lips. What had Sir Bertram and his wife heard of my methods, my approach, I wondered? Would they come in great naivety and then flounce off as the others had? The idea came to me then that I would first entertain them out of doors, which is to say at a picnic. I revealed my plans to Suzanne and Emily, and the reasons thereof. They clapped! So it was arranged. On the appointed day a great picnic basket was prepared- I taking sole charge of the wines for the purpose you may already guess. We attired ourselves suitably in white and pink, with frilled dresses, parasols, and long white gloves. Suzanne and Emily were hard put not to giggle often. I had to admonish them severely while we waited. Then was I put to deliberate mendacity, for upon the arrival of Sir Bertram's carriage from Paris, I opened the doors and pretended great alarm. My secretary, I said, had given me the wrong date. I had expected them on the morrow, I went on. Allowing them no time to recover from this, and finding Sir Bertram seemingly enchanted by the appearance of my two damsels, I went on to say that our picnic spot was but two miles hence and that in order to make mutual acquaintance we might all repair there. My own carriage also being waiting, this was done. Oh, but my goodness, you do not want such “mundane details,” dear, so I'll continue fast. We found our sward in a well-hedged meadow and there settled. Dorothy proved even prettier than her likeness and a perfect little cherub. Her Mama, Anthea, was of slightly stouter stock but not less comely for that and had-as I soon saw-good legs. Sir Bertram himself was tallish, quite imposing, and near to a gentleman as might be. I will not bore you however with all the preambles, during which I discoursed very carefully indeed upon the curriculum at my establishment. The presence of Suzanne and Emily, their attractive forms and faces and the general merriment in their expressions did more to advertise myself than I could do, for they were clearly in the best of health, came from good families, and were patently enjoying all their days at St. Germain-en-Laye, as Sir B. himself remarked (not failing to twinkle at both!). Well now-I really must confess to you, sweet Caroline, that I could have let all be and quite easily drawn Dorothy into my sphere of influence. A mischief was upon me, though. Perhaps the warm sun, the blue sky, and the splendid wine had something to do with it. That which I was about to venture was something I had never done before. My general rule is that parents should be neither seen nor heard once their daughters, nieces, wards, or whatever, are safe within my walls until I am satisfied that tuition has run its course. Such as happened to Blanche, to Alison, and a few others is rare. “In the main the girls return to England with their cunnies still virgin even though they may have been dildoed in their bottoms. Even so, their cunnies by then pout for attention and, I am sure, receive it as soon as can be discreetly arranged, for if that is not the prime purpose for which they are sent here, then all my time is wasted! Perhaps I did feel that Dorothy was a trifle too young, for it is essential that girls should mature in their minds as much as their bodies in certain respects-and you know well enough those to which I refer. I am told that I am a philosopher, which I suppose is true. I do not mind a girl being bedded by her sire provided she is eager for a bout and knows what she is at. My tuition generally ensures the latter but does not stipulate the former! I see you smile behind your hand and do admit to a little hypocrisy in this, but in the end I must say that it is up to the girls themselves. I send them back cock-ready, it is true; that is my task. But I hear you scolding me (if you dare!) and telling me to get on with my tale. Very well. I had decided to give Dorothy a lesson that no other girl has ever been afforded here. In other words, she was to have an exceedingly practical education, while I in turn would garner in and teach her lovingly all that she needed to know. Hence, our cold collation having been consumed, I opened my “special” bottle of wine and dispensed some to Sir Bertram and his wife. I then replaced the bottle quickly in the picnic basket (the lid being up and concealing it from them) as if I had forgotten to serve myself. Sir Bertram-having laughingly reminded me of this-I withdrew an ordinary bottle which to their eyes looked the same. As for Dorothy, she received-as my two pupils did-a seemingly innocent sarsaparilla, the colour of which concealed the very slightest touch of aphrodisiac.

Just enough to make them sparkle, as you would say! The dosage I had secretly given Dorothy's parents was quick to take effect. Her Mama, Anthea, sank back upon the grass saying rather blearily, “I feel… I feel…” Her arms hung limp. She appeared comatose, as Sir Bertram-joining her in a prone position literally shoulder to shoulder-also did, but I knew that this was but to conceal the extreme state of arousal she V was feeling. Her nipples already thrust vividly into the cloth of her gown, indenting the material sharply. There was a flush upon her cheeks. In a manner that she would never otherwise have dreamed of doing, her legs hung apart and stirred uneasily. Her hands fluttered. She dearly wished to play with herself! Sir Bertram, as you may imagine, was in similar condition. His penis thrust up mightily into his trousers and none could miss the violent projection-not, least of all, Dorothy who stared at it and then looked away, her mouth open. Suzanne immediately slipped one arm about her waist. Sir Bertram groaned and laid one hand upon his wife's nearest thigh. I distinctly saw him feeling her stocking top. Her legs opened more. “You feel sleepy,” said I, “it is the wine, the sun. Close your eyes awhile, as we shall, too. Then we shall repair back to the school.” My words were carefully chosen, for I wished them to remember them. Such as are persuaded by dint of chemistry and Nature into these naughty ways, and whose veins boil for fulfillment, are often easily persuaded afterwards that all that they experienced was a dream. Since none of them have ever behaved in that way before, this is easily achieved. Besides, my words were meant also for Dorothy whose own swelling gourds had swelled the more now that she had imbibed her rosy drink. Her head rested on Suzanne's shoulders.

Emboldened, the latter moved her arm around her further and cupped one budding tit in her palm. Rising then, I knelt beside Sir Bertram whose eyelashes fluttered. He gazed up at me most imploringly and even made bold (while still caressing his wife's thigh) to fondle my own full tits. Of course, I let him. Anything to increase his state of excitation! “I say!” he blurted. My lips moved down to his ear.