Anonymous - The Oyster, Volume IV

Unfortunately, Lady Jacques never arrived at the party as she was suffering from a heavy cold and thought it unwise to travel in the night air. However, my little adventure in voyeurism partially compensated for her absence, and I was delighted for young John Walsh who I know is destined to become a fine cocksman well into the twentieth century. Indeed, if such exciting contests as the Victor Pudendum at the Jim Jam continue to be held, I am certain that he will one day win the treasured golden goblet. The next day I asked him how he enjoyed the party and he told me that he owed an apology for his previous apprehension. 'I would not have missed it for the world,' he assured me, thanking me profusely for insisting upon his attendance, but saying nothing of course of his grand adventure with Miss Hiller. Now the moral I wish to draw from this story is this; years ago such behaviour would have been frowned upon by members of Polite Society. Nowadays, I am glad to say, more liberal attitudes to extra-marital fucking abound, especially amongst the young. Also, the strange notion that a man who manages to plunge his plonker into as many pussies as he can is a rattling good chap, whilst a lady who enjoys sexual sport is no better than she should be, is at last on the wane. Whilst I am not in favour of wanton promiscuity, as the music hall song has it 'a little of what you fancy does you good'!

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant, The Reverend Horace Bent-Organ Dyott House Nicklee Street London S.W. May, 1894

Readers of The Oyster were invited to write to Doctor Jonathan Arkley about any sexual queries, worries and anxieties, with the assurance that all letters would be treated in the strictest confidence and would be answered individually, even if the letter was not published in the magazine. Many may be surprised to learn that one hundred years ago, the 'agony uncle' was soothing away very much the same fears that crop up in contemporary advice columns.*** A MERRY MASTURBATOR Dear Doctor Jonathan, We laughed at the Nursery Rhymes For Our Times in the June Issue of The Oyster-perhaps you recall: There was a young man of high station Attached to the British legation.

He liked being fucked And adored being sucked But he revelled in pure masturbation! I am concerned because like that young continental gentleman, sometimes I am achieving more satisfaction out of playing with myself than actually fucking Alice, my girl friend. Indeed, if I had to choose between fucking Alice and the five fingered widow, I am not sure that I would not plump for a session with the five fingered widow. I have always enjoyed tossing off (for a start, one can choose one's own fantasy) and a recent occurrence also demonstrated to me the joys of taking oneself in hand. Alice stayed for the weekend recently and, early on Saturday morning, I decided to take an early morning stroll before breakfast to purchase a newspaper. When I returned home I padded softly up the stairs, not wishing to wake my dear lady friend. I opened the door as quietly as possible and, to my surprise, saw that she was engaged in a masturbatory exercise. She was lying totally naked on the bed and her legs were spread wide open. One hand was caressing her left breast, tweaking the nipple up to hardness, whilst the other hand was between her legs fingering her juicy pussey”. Her eyes were closed and she did not see or hear me as I stood framed in the doorway. I stood and stared for a minute or two and then went to the bathroom to pull out my erect, throbbing cock. I beat my meat until I shot a huge load of creamy spunk into the bath. My balls were completely drained and I experienced one of the best spends I have ever had in my entire life-I am thirty-seven years old-so I am wondering whether, after all, solitary sex is just as good as actual fucking. Incidentally, Alice told me later that she had seen me in the doorway that day but she was enjoying herself so much she pretended not to have noticed me and that she too is a devotee of frigging.-What do you think? Mr. Philip P. Pelham Street Manchester, Lanes DOCTOR JONATHAN REPLIES:

Sir,

Certainly, nothing is unnatural which is not physically impossible, and it appears that you and Alice could well enjoy a mutual masturbation scenario, which I would recommend. Solitary frigging can be very satisfying and indeed is far, far, better than celibacy-but I would suggest that it can never equal the intensity and the glow one achieves from an orgasm that has been reached 'through sharing and caring' as the American popular song puts it. There's absolutely nothing at all wrong with an occasional tossing off, but frankly speaking it is far more satisfying to fuck. Perhaps you need the stimulation of a new sexual partner, or simply the novelty of some new sexual enjoyments. Do you and Alice engage in soixante-neuf? Write back to me in six months if there is no change in your feelings-you may well like to purchase a bottle of Professor Taylor's tonic wine, meanwhile, which I find to be a fine stimulator of all appetites! Or alternatively purchase Mr. Colin Davis' fine little volume 'Fucking for Beginners' which may be purchased from any progressive bookseller.

Dear Doctor Jonathan, The other evening I was walking down the Strand on my way to a matinee performance of Mr. Michael Cook's new melodrama, The Warehouse, when who should I see striding towards me but the great Mr.

Peter Stockman, perhaps the biggest cocksman in Old London Town.

'Good afternoon, Miss Smyth-Bedforde,' said the handsome old rogue, 'What brings you to town on a warm summer's day?' 'I'm planning to see a performance of The Warehouse at the Lyceum Theatre,'

I replied. 'The reviews of Mr. Cook's production have been so good.'

'Oh dear, I'm afraid that today's matinee has been cancelled due to an outbreak of influenza amongst the east,' he said. 'Such a pity and how disappointing for you, Mary-and for me, too, as I had also decided to see the play this afternoon.' 'Alone, Mr. Stockman?' I said with a cheeky grin. 'I can hardly believe that!' 'It's the truth! Captain Mellor of Kent was supposed to meet me for a game of snooker at our Club, but he cried off this morning as he has been asked to fuck Mrs. Nottsgrove at three o'clock. Her husband is in India, you know, and the good Captain, Doctor Hellen and myself have been taking it in turns to ensure that the loneliness of separation has been eased by some extra-marital frolicking whenever the opportunity arises.' 'How kind of you, Mr. Stockman, to make your prick available to a poor lady in need.' 'It is the least one can do,' he said modestly. 'However, I am surprised that you too were planning to visit the theatre without a gentleman or a chaperone to escort you.' 'Oh, well, to be honest my dear old friend David Taylor was called away suddenly to see his brother who lives in Cockermouth -' 'Perhaps the most suitable place for Mr. Taylor to visit,' he interrupted with a saucy smile playing around his lips. 'It is said that in his home town of Glasgow he is without peer in the art of cunnilingus, though I am sure that I could give him a run for his money.' 'I'm sure you can,' I retorted. 'I doubt if there are any virgins over the age of sixteen left in London thanks to you and your friends! Anyhow, I am foot-loose and fancy free until he returns the day after tomorrow.' We walked back along the Strand and took tea at Philip Ajao's Covent Garden restaurant, which is now perhaps the most fashionable place to see and be seen these days. We stayed an hour or so, and saw Dame Carolyn Caughey there, incidentally, planning some intrigue I'll be bound with Lady Roberta Cripps, Mrs. Langtry and Mrs. Keppel. Then lo and behold, I found myself in Mr. Stockman's delightful apartment in the Adelphi. Even as I write, I have hardly any memory of how we arrived there! 'Let me open a bottle of white wine. Mixed with a little seltzer water, I think you will agree it is a most refreshing drink in this warm weather,' said this sweet Lothario. I shall spare myself and your readers any further blushes, but most people who purchase The Oyster know of Mr. Peter Stockman's well-deserved reputation… I was certainly no match for his polished technique of seduction. Which girl could resist the charms of a mature, tall, good-looking and wealthy man like Peter?