At dinner I could hardly take my eyes off Jonathan, who looked terribly pleased with himself and I wondered enviously whether Sarah had helped him to make his first journey across the Rubicon just a couple of hours before. You lucky boy, I thought, there is no man I really want at Argosse Towers to rid me of my tiresome virginity. If only Jimmy lived with us instead of in London. I should explain here that Jimmy was the Honourable James Harold Fortescue Horobin, second son of Viscount and Viscountess Sevenoaks, who were amongst my parents' oldest friends. Jimmy was eighteen and had just gained a place at Cambridge University to read English although his father had hoped that Jimmy would follow his footsteps and take up a commission in the Grenadier Guards. More of Jimmy shortly, dear reader, for very soon he enters this story.
To return to my tale, Jonathan had gone to bed at half past nine and at the stroke of ten, I put down the book I was reading and walked across to my uncle who was engrossed in his copy of the Sporting Life.
'Good night, Uncle, I am feeling a little tired so I shall go to bed now.'
'Are you m'dear? Well, have an early night and you'll feel fully refreshed tomorrow,' he replied, and he gave me a chaste goodnight peck on my cheek as I moved away from his chair.
Now, Uncle Gordon rarely retired before midnight. But as I fully expected, on this occasion I heard him climb the stairs and enter his bedroom not more than a quarter of an hour later! Five minutes after I heard the door close, I glued my eye to the peephole and was very soon rewarded. Uncle Gordon had taken off all his clothes except his vest and undershorts and he was sitting on the bed looking impatiently at his door.
Neither of us had long to wait for very soon I heard a knocking on his door and Uncle Gordon sprang up and rushed across the room to open the door. In popped Sarah, clad in a dressing-gown and slippers and as soon as Uncle had whisked her in he bolted the door behind her. 'No one saw you, did they?' he asked, anxiously. 'No, of course not,' she said. 'And even if they did, it's none of their business 'cos it's more than their job's worth to peach on us. After all, who would Lady D'Argosse believe if such a story were told to her? The tittle-tattle of servants of Lord MacChesney, her own blood brother?'
'Don't bank on it,' said Uncle Gordon, gloomily, 'because whatever else she maybe, my sister Cynthia is nobody's fool and she would probably believe a servant's tale rather than any explanation from me in such circumstances. Mind, it would be me who would get into hot water rather than you if we were found out as she would insist that I seduced you.'
Sarah giggled and replied: 'And so you did, Lord Gordon. I was a good little girl till I met you.'
'Go on with you, m'dear, you have had more pricks in your pussey than I've backed winners at Sandown Park races,' said Uncle, joining in her laughter.
'I must almost be a virgin then because your bookmaker sends you a box of cigars every month and he wouldn't do that if you were a lucky punter!'
'Ha, ha, ha! No, I don't suppose he would, just like I wouldn't give you a five pound note every week if your clever little cunney didn't tease my old cockie so deliciously, you naughty miss.'
This teasing badinage continued as Sarah and Uncle began to kiss and fondle each other on the bed. Sarah slipped off her dressing-gown to reveal that she wore only a thin nightdress underneath it. She rolled up Uncle Gordon's vest and pulled it over his head whilst he repaid the compliment by doing the same to her nightdress. The happy couple then dissolved into a loving embrace and my uncle's hand cupped one of her firm, full bosoms as they freely exchanged a most passionate kiss. My little titties began to tingle as I saw him squeeze Sarah's white globes, first one and then the other, and I rubbed my own nipples up to little red stalks as Uncle Gordon's lips broke away from Sarah's to move downwards to suck on the rosy red stalks that topped her sinuously ripe breasts.
Sarah's right hand now strayed to Uncle Gordon's lap and her fingers dived into the slit in his drawers to release his naked prick from its uncomfortable prison. Beforehand I could see the outline of a great bulge straining against the material of his pants, but I must confess that I was absolutely staggered by the tremendous size of my uncle's todger.
Though till this afternoon the only male organs I had seen had been limp and soft; compared even to the stiffstanders of Jonathan and Alfred I had viewed only hours before, the upstanding length and girth of Uncle Gordon's erect penis astonished and frankly frightened me. I judged its veiny thickness to be five inches in circumference whilst I estimated the veiny staff which Sarah was stroking with such eager relish to be at least nine inches long. There was no way that such a monster could be accommodated in my tiny crack and surely Sarah would be unable to take in this huge staff in her cunney even if she had already stretched her slit from previous fuckings?
I watched with fascination as Sarah leaned backwards and my uncle clambered over her. But he did not lay upon her but knelt down with his knees pressing the sides of her beautiful body. He then moved himself forward so that his prick, which still stood up as high as a flagpole, was positioned just an inch away from Sarah's mouth. This puzzled me until Sarah grasped hold of the veiny shaft with one hand and cupped his hairy pink ballsack with the other and I wondered as to what on earth was she planning to do with his throbbing prick.
In just a few seconds my question was answered for Sarah licked her lips and encircled the purple helmet of Uncle Gordon's cock with her tongue, jamming down his foreskin before taking the smooth knob between her lips. She sucked hard, taking at least a third of his rigid rod into her mouth while her hands played with his dangling balls. I could hear the sound of her tongue slurping round his pulsating pole before letting it out of her mouth. She then began to lick the swollen staff, drawing her tongue from the base right up to the gleaming knob. He clutched at her hair and shuddered violently as the lewd minx circled her tongue all round the fleshy red dome, washing his knob so sensuously that a hoarse groan of sheer delight escaped from my uncle's throat.
'Suck me off, Sarah! My balls are bursting with spunk!' he grunted, a request which she seemed happy with which to comply, for she took hold of his thick prick and with a sharp intake of breath somehow managed to cram all but the last inch or two of his enormous shaft into her mouth. She held his huge cock, lightly in her hands as he moved his hips backwards and forwards, releasing much of his rigid rod from her mouth before pushing it back in again. Sarah sucked away vigorously, keeping her lips taut on his length, kissing, suckling, licking and lapping as she took him into her mouth in long rolling sucks.
She continued to suck until with a cry of 'Here it comes!' he sent a stream of jism down Sarah's throat and she gulped down as much as she could of his copious emission. Despite all her efforts, however, Uncle Gordon pumped so much love juice into her mouth that some of his jism spilled out from between her lips and onto her chin. Sarah obviously enjoyed the taste of his libation for she rubbed his twitching shaft furiously to coax out every last drain of love juice from it.
'Oh my word, Sarah,' panted my uncle, as he removed her hand from his now deflated tooclass="underline" 'I do believe that you are truly the finest fellatrix outside London.'
Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression. 'Fellatrix? What's that when it's at home? There's no need to go calling me names just because I'm a simple country girl and not one of your high and mighty ladies in society.'
'No, no, m'dear, you misunderstand me,' said my uncle, hastily. 'I assure you that I paid you a compliment. Fellatio is the posh name for oral sexual intercourse and a fellatrix is a girl who performs the noble art.'
'Fellatio, you say? Well, that may be how you say it in London but down here people simply call it good old-fashioned cocksucking.'