Rupert Mountjoy - The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.II

'I'll help to keep his organ on song,' said Gillian brightly, taking hold of my moist length and rubbing it gaily between her hands.

This had the desired effect of keeping my shaft stiff as Chrissie slipped out of her clothes. For a girl with such a slim, almost boyish figure, Chrissie had a suprisingly full bosom with rounded, firmly shaped breasts tipped with pert raspberry nipples surrounded by large red aureolae. I watched closely as she ran her hands along the smooth skin of her flat, unwrinkled belly and into a luxuriant fleece of dark, almost black hair which extended between her thighs and completely covered her pussey. She leaped into bed beside me and straightaway took a pillow and placed it under her bottom as she spread her legs to wait for the arrival of my twitching tool which under Gillian's continuing rhythmic ministrations was now standing proudly upright in all its glory, the purple helmet uncapped and glowing as she worked my shaft up and down in her hands.

'Chrissie, are you ready to receive His Majesty, King Cock?' she gaily enquired. The darling girl replied: 'Yes, dear, please put Rupert's tool in my cunt, I have a great fancy for it just now. I want to feel his knob nudge between my pussey lips and drive straight through into my cunney.' Gillian moved a hand across to delve into Chrissie's thick growth of pubic hair. Her clever fingers spread her friend's pussey lips and exposed the pink chink where my pulsating prick was now yearning to enter. With Gillian's hand still firmly clasped on my tadger, I rolled over on top of the trembling girl and she opened the lips of Chrissie's cunt and placed the tip of my helmet between them. 'Push on, Rupert,' she hissed in my ear. 'Chrissie has a marvellously tight little cunney and she wants to feel every inch of your big cock inside her!' I needed no further urging and planting my lips on hers, I plunged forward, embedding my knob and just an inch or so of my shaft inside her delicious, velvet-walled cunt. Quickly, we established a fine rhythm with Chrissie pushing her hips upward to meet every push forward of my prick into her already sopping cunney. We enjoyed an excellent fuck (though is there such a thing as a bad one!) with her rapid jerking spurring me to further fast plunges into this delectable cunt which held my member in its warm, silky embrace. Her juices lubricated her little love-channel so that my cock slid in and out of her pussey with consummate ease though it was tight enough for me to feel my foreskin being drawn backwards and forwards with every lascivious shove. I fucked away with surprising energy considering how Gillian had emptied my balls before Chrissie had sucked me off just before. But the throbbing contractions of her cunney muscles spurred me on and we shared a truly memorable experience. 'Ah, you lovely boy, ram home that fat joystick!' she urged me as her eyes sparkled and she writhed in delicious agitations as within us the pent-up waves of ecstatic bliss rose to tidal proportions. A few more rapid, impetuous thrusts together with one last straining of her body to mine and her fingers clawed up and down my back as she reached the highest pinnacle of pleasure. Very shortly afterwards I joined her and I spouted a stream of milky seed inside Chrissie's cunney which mingled deliciously with her own copious rivulets of nectar that overflowed down onto her thighs. I pounded my spurting shaft until I was spent and I collapsed on top of her soft body, and the two of us were almost fainting with fatigue after this torrid fuck. Both Chrissie and I had been so highly involved with each other's bodies that neither of us had noticed Gillian slip out of bed whilst we had been fucking ourselves into a stupor. But the kind girl had busied herself whilst my love trunk was battering its way into Chrissie's cunt and she had set up a table upon which she had placed a selection of fruits and a jug of lemonade from the ice-box.

The clever girl knew full well that a prolonged bout of fucking uses a great deal of energy and that even our strong, youthful bodies required refreshment to regain our strength. We were so warm from our fun and games that we stayed quite naked as we enjoyed our informal tea, during which I asked Chrissie what she was studying at Oxford.

'I'm reading for a degree in the history of art,' she explained as she sat up in bed munching an apple, 'and as I enjoy painting, for my own amusement, I am also studying watercolour techniques in an informal weekly class under the tuition of Professor. Tim Titchfield of All Souls, who offers his kind guidance to any budding artists among the first year students.' Now I had dabbled a little in painting since my first encounter with art which had led directly to my crossing the Rubicon with the divine Diana Wigmore that in turn had given me the unexpected but highly delightful chance to lose my unwanted virginity. Sadly, my efforts with the brush and palette were so far undistinguished, though I was told by Diana that I would do far better once I had been taught to harness my technical skills to create my own personal style. So I asked Chrissie if any student could avail himself of Professor Titchfield's classes. 'Most certainly,' she replied. 'Why, would you like to come along? We meet on Thursday evenings at eight o'clock in the small lecture hall just next to the Playhouse Theatre.' 'I'll be there,' I promised and, turning to Gillian, I said: Talking of the Playhouse, will Chrissie be invited to this party on Saturday night? I'm sure you could wangle her onto the guest list.' 'Of course, but unless I'm much mistaken, she'll be wining and dining with her new special boyfriend who's corning all the way over from Cambridge for the weekend just to be with her.'

Chrissie blushed and said: 'Now you know full well, Gillian, that Salman is just a boyfriend, and there is nothing special about him- except of course that he is a very charming young man-' '- who has pots and pots of money and a very, very big cock!' finished Gillian with a giggle. 'Wash your mouth out, you bad girl!' scolded Chrissie although she was not really offended by the jest.

'Salman's cock is certainly sizeable but it is not the very biggest I have ever entertained in my pussey. That honour would go to “Donkey Dick” Dinchley, the gardener's boy at my Uncle Rodney's country house in Buckinghamshire whose erect tool measured almost twelve and a half inches, though he was by no means the most satisfying fuck. I mean, we both had that good-looking chap Harry Barr at your birthday party in May and he was superb in bed even though his member was if anything smaller than the average cock. Don't you agree that this obsession with the size of their penises makes many men almost neurotic? And it's all so unnecessary because as an American girl in my college says, it isn't the size of the ship that counts, it's the motion of the ocean!' 'Yes, although I suppose it is a similar problem that we women have in never being quite satisfied with our weight!' said Gillian thoughtfully, but before she could continue airing her views on this admittedly interesting subject, I suddenly woke up to the fact that Chrissie's boyfriend could be none other than my old school chum Salman Marrari, the eldest son of the Maharajah of Lockshenstan who had, as I noted at the very beginning of these memoirs, spurned a place at University College, Oxford to take up a place at Trinity College, Cambridge as he wanted to continue his scientific studies with some noted group of physicists who were based there. He was also a great cocksman and very popular with the servant girls at St Lionel's amongst whom he distributed a generous number of twenty pound notes for favours great and small! So I asked her excitedly: 'Are you talking about Salman Marrari who went up to Cambridge from St Lionel's? He shared a study with me at school and it would be marvellous to see him if he is coming to Oxford this weekend. Is this the chap who you are seeing, Chrissie?' 'Yes indeed, what a lovely coincidence,' she said, clapping her hands together. 'Oh, Rupert, you must join us for dinner on Friday night.' 'That's very kind but surely you two prefer to dine a deux.' 'No, really, you must come along – I won't tell Salman so it will be a lovely surprise for him to see his old school chum again,' she insisted.