Anonymous - The Oyster, Volume III

'Three nights in all,' said Gwendolen. 'On the third night, about dawn, we released him back into the wild.' 'And nothing was ever discovered?' 'Not really.' 'What do you mean, “Not really”?'

I asked. 'Well, there was one tiny incident…' said Gwendolen. 'Do you remember Miss Brightwell?' 'The young temporary art teacher,' I said. 'Yes,' said Gwendolen. 'Well, she happened upon Bess creeping up the back staircase that led from the kitchens to the attics. Bess had a bowl of nourishing stew under a cloth. Thinking that some sort of forbidden night-time feast was taking place in the dormitory, she had followed silently behind her. She found the gipsy, John Smith was his name, in the lumber room, giving some private tuition to two of the girls. A lesson had just finished. Meg was lying back, recovering from a most searching examination of her inner parts, while Deirdre…'

'That thin girl with a most active tongue,' I said. 'The same,' said Gwendolen. 'She was using the same active tongue in order to lick our tutor back into sufficient life for him to perform his duties all over again. She was most assiduously sucking and teasing his cock back to its standing position when Miss Brightwell appeared at the door.' 'How terrible,' I said. 'What did she do?'

'She was a jolly good sport,' replied Gwendolen. 'Everyone, of course had stopped what they were doing except Meg who was too far gone in her post-fuck daze to notice anything. She just lay there, stroking her exhausted quim while Miss Brightwell looked about her and the said “John Smith, I believe.” The gipsy turned and said “Rachel!”'

'Goodness me,' I said. 'It turned out that they had met some months previously when she was engaged in a series of circus sketches on Blackheath in south London. That of course was immediately prior to her having taken up a temporary position at Miss Bradshaw's. I later saw some of her drawings. They are most exotic. Trapeze artists and acrobats are flexible beyond the imaginings of us ordinary mortals.

Such contortions and such fucking and all in positions that I swear would be quite impossible without grave risk of permanent injury to someone untrained. One of the artists, wearing only a little spangled costume, had her legs locked round the back of her own neck and had then craned forward so that her face was but a few inches from this immense cock that was plunging deep into her gaping quim.'

'Gracious!' I said, 'What a coincidence.' 'Furthermore,'

Gwendolen went on, 'it appeared that she had not restricted her activities to just recording such details. She had several times enjoyed a thorough fucking at the hands, or rather the prick, of John the Gipsy. Although these instances she had not of course been able to record in pencil or watercolour.' 'What happened then?' I asked.

'She very sportingly said that she would not report anything that she had seen just so long as she took the next turn. Miss Minge-for that was John the Gipsy's nickname for her-quickly slipped off her rather artistic and loose fitting dress and stood before us in a delightfully unashamed nakedness. She was so slim and pretty that my heart went out to her. Her breasts were quite small but she had the longest, most provoking nipples that I have ever seen.' 'Like nipples, like clitty,' I murmured. 'Indeed, yes,' said Gwendolen.

'John's gipsy tongue almost at once had all three protuberances flushed and charged. The contrast between them and her slim, white body was tantalising in the extreme. When she drew in her breath, all her ribs stood out and her hipbones framed the plumpness of her curly haired mound. They fucked standing up, very quietly and very deliberately. We were all spell-bound and I realised that the human body can indeed be a work of art in itself. Bess was standing there open-mouthed, quite forgetting the bowl of stew which was growing cold in her hands. Only when Miss Brightwell came with a little choking cry, did she remember where she was. I think we were all in something of a trance. John the Gipsy, who had been very controlled in his fucking, held on to her as she quivered and shook with her coming. He stayed in her until she had ground to a halt, supporting her until she had regained her composure.' 'One of nature's Gentlemen,' I said.

' Far more of a gentleman than some others much better born that I have entertained,' agreed Gwendolen. 'He was Consideration personified.' 'I have been secretly reading the works of Mr.

Engels and Mr. Marx,' I said. 'And I have developed a great sympathy for the lot of the working classes.' 'And there was a lot to this member of the working classes,' Gwendolen responded quickly. 'I may not understand the economic sciences, but I am full of admiration for the hard Labour he performed that night and the next. Of course we looked after him with care for none of us knew when we would be able to lay hands on another such rod, pole or perch.' I smiled at her reference to our mathematics lessons. 'Or Rod, Staff and Comforter,' I riposted in what I thought a clever little allusion to Mr. Paddlebottom's scripture classes. Gwendolen looked puzzled for a moment and furrowed her dainty brow. I squeezed her hand affectionately with my thighs. 'But do go on,' I said.

'There is not much more to tell,' she said. 'Miss Brightwell returned to her room with a warning not to make any noise. “Since,” as she said, “I know that your evening is not yet ended. You have my assurance both that John will be able to stand up to further exertions in a short while and that I will report nothing of what I have seen, and felt, this evening.”' She then made a firm agreement with John the Gipsy for her to come down to his encampment one night after he had been returned and commence to put together a portfolio of drawings of Romany life. After she had withdrawn the fucking recommenced. Thomasina, who had been waiting patiently for her turn, was next. Then Meg. Melissa and I had to console ourselves, each with the other, while the rest moaned and gasped in sequence upon the floor. We had to place a firm hand over Deirdre's mouth at one juncture for it was clear that she was about to scream out in her delight. But the danger was averted and we composed ourselves, knowing that we were the first to be served the next night when our efforts were resumed.' 'So he lasted the course?' I asked. 'Towards the end of the third night he became a bit weak at the knees,' said Gwendolen. 'But as I now realise, he held out most manfully to the very end.' So if today is the anniversary of your first three fucks, tomorrow…' 'Is the anniversary of my fourth and fifth,'

Gwendolen agreed. 'And the very last, just before we had to take him back to his caravan, was most extraordinary. I actually slid down the bannisters on to his eager prick.' 'No splinters in the bum?' I asked. 'We had smeared the surface carefully with a soothing cream. It was the smoothest of descents and the easiest of entrances.

I realised then that fucking would be my chief delight for the future.' At that moment we heard the sound of another passenger clambering up to the top deck of the omnibus. Of course, being two well brought-up young ladies, we did not do anything so immodest as to turn to look at the new arrival. Indeed we both hoped that he-for it was a he as I could see from the corner of my eye-would move up to the front so that our happy intimacy, and our conversation, could not be intruded upon and we could continue to exchange information. However it was not be to be. 'Gwendolen!' exclaimed the newcomer. 'What a splendid surprise.' Gwendolen looked round. 'George!' she answered. I too looked round at this juncture. Standing before us was a young man who I had never seen before in my life. I barely had time to register that he was dressed as though for a funeral, when he half raised his hat in greeting and extended a hand. Here a problem arose. Gwendolyn instinctively sought to half rise in response and to hold out her hand. Unfortunately her right hand was still beneath the travelling rug, burrowed into my underclothing and caressing my nicely damp pussey. Gwendolyn though barely hesitated. Deftly she withdrew her hand from my private pleasure place and held it out to the stranger who claimed acquaintance. He took it between his own and bent to kiss it, whilst steadying himself against the end of the seat in front in order to preserve his balance since the omnibus was once more swaying and jolting through the ever heavier traffic, the driver flicking his whip and muttering uncomplimentary things about the competing drivers and cabbies. (Indeed I distinctly heard him call in question the parentage of one tradesman's van driver.) The young gentleman warmly placed his lips upon the backs of her fingers, lingered for a moment and then looked her steadily in the eyes, at the same time allowing himself a small smile. 'No gloves,' he said.