Rupert Mountjoy: The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.III

The cost would be considerable and it would take a great deal of time to organise.' 'Well, you're not doing very much these days,' called out my father, who had caught the drift of this conversation, 'so you've enough time to lend a hand.' 'Finance wouldn't necessarily present a problem,' said Henry. I don't believe it would cost a fortune to hire a gallery early next Spring and we would pay Rupert his travelling expenses as a nominal honorarium.' Now whilst I would stoutly defend myself against any accusation of being a Philistine regarding artistic affairs, initially the idea of spending my precious free months working on setting up an exhibition of modern paintings was hardly of great appeal. But then I realised that such a position would give me ample opportunity to visit Diana in Paris -and my trip would be paid for, in the bargain! My eyes brightened even further when Diana said, 'What a wonderful idea, Henry. I know that you and Rupert would judge potential exhibitors solely upon the quality of their work for there are several girls I know who are held back simply because their sex precludes them from being shown at the best commercial galleries.' 'Don't begin talking about downtrodden women again, Diana,' said Dr Wigmore teasingly. 'I am sure that Colonel Mountjoy agrees with me that this subject is becoming tiresome through constant repetition.' Diana smiled but my mother took the bait and bristled, 'Charles, the subject will need constant repetition. Only last week I came across a small but pertinent example of blatant sexual discrimination. You may know that Mrs. Anna Kempster, who has supervised the Yorkshire School Boards for many years, retired this year. Her co-chairman, Mr. Spencer Arbuthnot, has received an OBE in the King's Birthday Honours list, whilst Anna's name was conspicuous by its absence.' 'Actually, that's not a good example, Veronica,' said my father. 'Arbuthnot didn't get his gong for his work on the School Boards. His gift of five thousand pounds to Conservative Party funds earned him his medal.' 'How disgraceful,' remarked Cecily Cardew, who was sitting next to me but had said little during the meal. 'Such sordid horse-trading makes the list a parody of honour and an insult to those members of the community who truly merit recognition.' 'Well, whilst I can't reasonably defend the system, my dear,' my father said, 'you must admit it keeps Civil Servants happy and loyal to the government of the day and hopefully some decent chaps do get their just rewards for selfless service. As for politics, it's a dirty business but party funds need replenishing and I suppose selling baubles is as good a way as any to top up the accounts.' 'Maybe so, but it is indefensible that membership of the House of Lords should be decided by accident of birth,' said Cecily, a sentiment which earned a murmur of approval from all but my father and Dr Wigmore who shrugged their shoulders and muttered something about the need for an officer class in society.

When the ladies left the table and Frederick came in with the port and cognac, the two old codgers continued their objections to twentieth-century standards and the passing of the old ways. Henry and I listened in silence, giving each other an occasional conspiratorial wink. After all, there was little point trying to change their views, although when Dr Wigmore opined that what this country needed was 'a few people to give the orders and the rest to obey them pretty smartish!' Henry mouthed a muttered suggestion as to where Dr Wigmore should next stick his stethoscope! Anyhow, our minds were concentrated upon more immediate matters to hand and when my father suggested that we rose and joined the ladies, we took up his remark with alacrity. When we rejoined the girls, Diana said to me, 'Rupert, would you and Cecily Eke to accompany Henry, Nancy and myself to the library? Your mother has my portrait of her hanging there and has kindly agreed that I should show it to our guests.' I looked enquiringly at my mother who said, 'By all means, Rupert, and then do feel free to adjourn to the games room. Perhaps you young people might enjoy a game of billiards or table tennis whilst we old fogies sit down to a game of bridge.' We thanked Mama for her considerate thought and trouped out towards the library. But in the hallway, Cecily laid her hand on my arm and said, 'Rupert, why don't we leave Diana to show Nancy and Henry the painting by herself? They can talk amongst themselves about the pre-Raphaelites, the post-impressionists and whatever artistic gossip they choose without worrying about us.'

'What a good idea,' said Henry approvingly. 'We'll meet you later in the games-room.' 'Or if we don't find you there, Diana, Henry and I will make tracks for your bedroom and come straight in without knocking on the door,' warned Nancy jokingly, although I knew that she was totally serious about taking such a drastic course of action!

Anyhow, we agreed to split up and when the library doors closed upon the three artistic aficionados, Cecily rubbed the palm of her hand suggestively against my prick and said, 'You know, Rupert, I do believe that Nancy meant what she said about flinging open your bedroom door, so why don't we adjourn there now. That way we might actually be able to meet them in the games-room later!' I looked at my watch and saw it was almost twenty minutes to eleven and it occurred to me that not only would it be delicious to make love to this gorgeous girl but if Cecily Cardew's love channel was the first to be crammed full of my cock, this would solve a tricky problem which had been bothering me. For even though fucking Cecily first meant I would be breaking my promise to Nancy and Diana, both of them knew of each other's desire to have me fuck them, but this way, by first favouring Cecily's neutral pussey, so to speak, neither Polly nor Diana would have cause to feel any jealousy towards one another.

Perhaps I might abandon law and try my hand at diplomacy, I thought to myself as I opened the door to my bedroom for Cecily. I was swiftly shaken out of any smugness, however, because as I closed and was about to lock the door, it became apparent that someone had filched the key! Which girl had taken it? Probably Nancy, I reasoned, as I responded to Cecily's advances and kissed her on the lips, although I would not have put it past Polly to have slipped the key into her pocket when she left me just before dinner.

Unfortunately, it became obvious to Cecily that something was on my mind for she said reproachfully, 'Rupert, what's the matter with you?' 'Nothing, nothing at all,' I reassured her and swept her into my arms. But the nagging question still ran through my mind and Cecily broke away from me and began to undress until she stood naked in front of me. 'Now then, Rupert Mountjoy,' she said crossly, as she pirouetted round in a circle, 'do you like the merchandise or would you prefer to have it wrapped up and sent back to the shop?' I gazed upon her soft, white body, now totally nude and of such ravishing beauty that almost unconsciously I licked my lips in anticipation. Cecily was a real corker and when she unpinned her hair and let the silky strands fall over her shoulders onto her large breasts, I would have challenged any red-blooded man in the world not to have had his cock standing stiffly in salute. I looked down and smiled as she ran her fingers across the curly brown bush between her legs and pulled open the pouting love lips to reveal the pink chink of her cunney. 'Certainly not, I wish to make a purchase,' I croaked as she took three paces forward and helped me off with my jacket.

'You will?' she cooed happily, transferring her attentions to my fly buttons. 'I hope you won't change your mind and look elsewhere half-way through the transaction.' 'No I won't,' I panted heavily as I sat down on the bed and Cecily assisted me to remove my shoes.

Though if necessary I promise that I'll leave a deposit and come back later to complete the sale.' Within a very short space of time I was also naked and all extraneous matters like the missing key and who might come in whilst Cecily and I were enjoying our naked romp fled from my mind. Cecily opened her legs and I buried my face in the damp patch of curly cunney moss. 'Make love to my cunt, Rupert,' she whispered, and, nothing loath, I began to kiss her salivating pussey lips and started to lick her hairy crack in long lascivious swipes of my tongue. The vermilion lips parted and between them I felt her stiffened clitty which I rolled around in my mouth. 'Oooh! Oooh!