Then was she fucked. I find it best to say it plain. One sheathed his cock in her and brought her to a point of liquid pleasure, she a-crying softly all the time, but lying lax to let him have his will. A splendid mount she proved to be, said they. The other took the first one's place and loosed his own spermatic flood after much heaving.
“What are you doing?” several times she moaned, but otherwise was silent. Then all three lay in those recumbent attitudes that follows satisfaction. Her face was turned this way and that between the pair to exchange kisses and her cunny tickled up again. “I am undone,” she sobbed without conviction, but she made no move to rise and was handled as easily as might a sleepy baby be, turned this way, that, her nether charms examined just as much as her plump mount.
“A curious lady. One would not have too much of her. In bed she is too indolent, accepts all that might be done to her, protrudes her tongue upon command and whimpers when her bottom is well fiddled with. Indeed, old chap,” was told to me, “in the very midst of the most ardent play she confessed to feeling thirst the while that both her holes were being teased. I then”-he continued-“fetched some wine. We made her drink it from the bottle's neck while sitting up. She souses well-I will say that of her, and left us but a mouthful each. Our cocks being ready, we then placed her on her back again. Her legs spread easily enough. “Oh, not again!” she moaned. Her well-soaked cunt, though, received us both once more and then we tucked her into bed and left her to her dreams. She said naught as we left, hurled no remonstrances, was quite quiescent, sobbed a little still, but curled up like an infant with her back to us as we retreated. A week passed ere we thought to visit her again. She proved once more to be handled as quietly as might be and permitted us to perform on her again. Deuced strange. One takes them as one finds them, though, dear boy.”
“Indeed,” said I. I felt no great astonishment at the story. Such ladies make bizarre excuses to themselves, I do believe, which is to say that they were made to or could not resist for fear of servants knowing. A grass widow, as she was, one cannot doubt that she enjoyed what she received. The gentlemen concerned were wise not to extend their visits on the first or second time. A lady who may be handled, as they said she might, but who has nothing to discourse of afterwards, proves dull eventually.
“And wisely so,” says Caroline, “for she may not want to involve herself too much. We have as many weapons in our armoury, my pet, as you.”
I would say they have more, in fact, but would not dream of confessing it to her. The coda to my tale of Aunt Lucy is one that I gained in a most roundabout way via a maid of the household whom a sovereign loosed her tongue.
Aunt Lucy was a tippler on the quiet. One might have gathered that, of course, from the brief mention of her guzzling of the wine. Perhaps it allayed her tears, or even sometimes brought them on. Whatever the case, she lent herself to a most libertine occasion shortly after her first triple bout. Edwin, her son of callow years-a subaltern in early training-took leave with a friend of his one day and arrived home unexpectedly to hear her sobbing gently up above.
“I say-what is to do? Lets go and see,” his friend exclaimed, whereat Edwin experienced a sense of unease, for knew his Mama's ways so far as tippling was concerned and would have ventured up himself, but his friend insisted-with all signs of solicitousness (and, I do not doubt, a certain curiosity) upon accompanying him.
Somewhat inevitably they found the lady abed, naked and half uncovered. Down beside the bed a bottle lay. The room reeked both of perfume and of wine, the curtains were drawn to. An air of voluptuousness swam in the air.
“Oh, it is you again!” Aunt Lucy uttered, blinking at the pair, and mistaking them in a moment of bibulous drowsiness for the gentlemen who had entertained her but a week before.
“Mama?” asked Edwin nervously, though feeling a little stirred by the sight of her mammalian beauties, as was his friend.
“Am thirsty. Fetch me water-no-champagne,” the lady uttered and then turned her back on them, disturbing the loose bedclothes as she did.
The young men retreated. “I say, what an arse she has on her!” commented Edwin's friend, for they had viewed it half-uncovered as she turned.
“WHAT a cad you are, Simpson!” responded Edwin and was said to have blushed fearfully.
“The devil of it, though, she has a lovely one. Champagne-I say, what a jolly good idea!”
Edwin's Mama was not so drowsy as they thought, where hangs the tale, though for myself, I thought her opportune. It chanced that a valet of the house bore the same name as Edwin's friend and she-supposing the two were the same (for she had seemingly but blinked at them for a fraction of a moment in her bleary state)-heard their murmurs on the stairs and called after them for Simpson to attend upon her rapidly.
“I will do it, Mama,” called Edwin, only to be admonished through the door and told that it was not his place- the which he took, of course, in quite a different sense to what she had intended.
“I say, your dear Mama must have taken a shine to me, what?” uttered Simpson who plainly had a letch on him to view that magnificent posterior once again. Hence despite the most embarrassed protests from Edwin 'twas he who bore the bottle and the chalice-so to speak-upstairs again while Edwin fiddled in the drawing room. These sounds and movements being observed, the maid in question listened from a cubbyhole and heard the selfsame moans of pleasure as emanated from above as Edwin did who fretfully strode back and forth. The bed squeaked. Slaps and smacks were heard-slobbery kisses, little grunts and groans. The lady was being injected once again, and no doubt held the bottle in her hand while Simpson gallantly took saddle in between her thighs.
A half hour passed and then he reappeared.
“Edwin, I say, I must begone,” he uttered hastily and made his exit, murmuring all the things one does on making such departures. Have we not all found it wise to do so now and then?
Edwin, 'twas said, remained a-pacing and then decided to go up. In turn, I was about to say, but I would not slander the dear chap who was all to bits and pieces at the happening. The maid-sensible girl-removed her shoes and followed him, hid in a linen cupboard near the room where a voluptuous act had just ensued.
“Pray, Mama, have you been assaulted?” Edwin asked.
“I? I am constantly under assault, my pet. Have you been here long? Where have you been?”
“That beast Simpson, I shall fight him for this!”
“Simpson? The valet was not here. Some stranger, dear. They are all strange, the strangers, are they not? Come, comfort me. How I am put upon!”
“Dearest Mama, where is your nightgown, where your clothes?”
“I do not know, I do not know. No, do not pull the curtains, for the light shines in my eyes too strongly. Help me up.” She hiccuped, Edwin bleated, then a silence fell. A sucking sound ensued.
“I think she had it in her mouth, sir, that I do,” the maid said.
“She kisses soundfully-so I am told,” said I. The silly girl should have ventured out and peeped. How rarely such things happen when one wants a full, precise report!
“Well, I don't know, sir. Anyway, there was mumblings, and she give a silly laugh or two, said 'Oh, you naughty boy,' and things like that.”
“Things like that?” I was beginning to regret the departure of my sovereign from my hand to hers. She clutched it tightly; almost purposefully, I'd say.
“Yes, sir. I think he had a feel. She said, “No, don't. Help me to put my drawers on, Edwin-fetch them from the drawer. Oh!'
She gave a gasp and then I heard her smack him and she laughed. Said he were sorry, that he did, and then I heard him move about. He said, 'Oh, let me.'-'No,' she says, 'not yet.' There was more suckings-kisses if you like-and then she told him to go down. I peeped and looked. His cock was up all right. I saw it in his trousers, sticking up.”