'“Come on, Nick,” I said, dropping to my knees. “Give me a taste of what's in store!”
'He seemed scarcely to know what I had in mind. But when I knelt there before him, and took hold of that fine manly cock of his, and licked around the purple tip, and then took it deep within my mouth, I could hear him audibly gasp out his pleasure.
'“Ah! Oho!' I heard him cry. ''Tis too much. No one never done that to me before.”
'I rolled my tongue around his cock, and tasted the sweet salt taste, and sucked him hard and deep. When I could sense that soon he would be able to hold back no longer, I ceased my lecherous labours.
'“Did you like that?” I asked breathily.
'“I love it,” he cried, almost jumping up and down in his excitement. “That's what they say the French whores do, but I never thought afore now that folks really do it.”
'“Oh yes they do, Nick. Lots of nice ladies do it, and they greatly enjoy doing it too.”
'“Then I'll show you what I can do,” he cried, and pushed me over backwards on to the straw. We both fumbled with my underskirts and then master Priapus was knocking at the door of my temple, begging for admission. I was in no mood to refuse him entry!
'In a trice his fine youthful cock was buried in me up to the hilt. Oh! How he fucked me that hot summer afternoon. In and out went his rampant charger, and how my bottom bounded up to meet his every thrust. His prick seemed to grow bigger by the second, until I seemed entirely filled by it, and about to burst.
'For one so young he was a lover of remarkable skill and tenderness. His spunk burst into me exactly at the instant I spent myself, and we rolled over and over in the hay until he uncunted.
'For several minutes we lay there in each other's arms, moist with the exertion and panting for breath. Suddenly from the distant fields came a whistle.
'“Stap me!” he cried. '“What time is it? They're ready to start up again after dinner.”
'I fumbled for my watch.
'“It's nearly one, Nick,” I said.
'“Then I must be gone. Sorry, my dear, 'tis hardly fan-to leave you like this. How I wish with all my heart I could stay with you all the afternoon long. But I have work to do, and I'll be getting in trouble if I let the others down.”
'I laughed. “Not at all, dear Nick. I do understand, and I would fain be the one to get you into trouble. Here, give me a kiss, and then begone.”
'He kissed me one last time, long and deep.
'“Shall I see you again, dear Rosie?” he said.
'“Yes indeed,” said I. “I shall be here again tomorrow. We shall pay our compliments to Mrs. Tiddles and her little pussies, and you can pay your compliments to mine.”
'I swear that, as he went, he blushed quite scarlet at my words. Country girls, as he told me later, do not speak so, nor are they much advanced in the ways of making love. Lads neither, he added ruefully. I assured him that that was not how I judged him but, before the week was out and it was time for me to return to the bosom of my family, he had become a true carnal gourmet. In old Moss's barn, every dinner-time, we were transported for an hour into an altogether new realm of the senses. He fucked me from on top, from behind, with me sitting astride him. I sucked his prick and took his libation in my mouth I taught him how to lick my cunt and bring me to a spend with his tongue. Once, when we were feeling particularly randy, I took his prick in my bottom-hole. But all good things must come to an end, and it was with parting's sweet sorrow that we finally took our leave of each other, with many murmured endearments and the promise that, at Christmastide, I would be back a my uncle's farm, and with me would bring a very special present for us both to share. But that, my dear friends, must be another story.'
'Bravo!' cheered Michel. 'That was, indeed, a charming story. How I wish there were time for us to practise some of those naughty tricks you demonstrated for that fortunate young boy! But now I fear it is getting late and we must return to the Academy at once, for I promised Maman I would take tea with her this afternoon.
Madame Dupont was undeniably fond of indulging in this peculiarly English habit and did so on the slightest pretext. I believed, secretly, that it was the hot buttered toast and delicious, sugary confections that went with it rather than the beverage itself which appealed to her expansive and expanding nature!
'Come, dear ladies, Antoine and I will be delighted to help you back into your gowns as soon as we are dressed ourselves.'
Michel was as good as his word and within a few minutes the four of us, arm in arm, were strolling back through the garden with the mid-afternoon sun slanting down on us through the trees and making dappled patterns on the soft, springy grass.
As we parted company from our new friends, smiling warmly and kissing each glowing cheek in turn in true French fashion, we promised to meet again soon in order to renew our relationship and share a further hour or two of companionable eroticism in the open air.
A day or two later, on entering the senior girls' study I was assailed by much excited laughter punctuated by a quantity of low, throaty, though undeniably feminine guffaws. What could have precipitated such earthy hilarity in this, a traditionally serene and tranquil chamber?
In the centre of the room, seated comfortably on a low, brocade sofa, sat an attractive and buxom lady of advancing years with twinkling brown eyes and an obviously merry disposition. She wore a peacock-blue gown of shot silk, generously boned and corseted in order to tame and hold at bay her ample bosom and rounded, womanly curves, and an elegant little hat with a long, black ostrich feather set at a jaunty angle atop her golden-blonde curls.
She was surrounded by ten or twelve of my classmates who, seated on adjoining chairs, on the floor or on each other's laps, were gazing at her delightedly with the sort of rapt attention rarely afforded to the Academy's more formal tutors.
As I entered the room she looked up and gave me a warm, inviting smile, gesturing for me to sit down. 'Good afternoon, my dear. I expect you're wondering who on earth I am-this middle-aged thorn between so many beautiful roses! Well, let me explain. I am Mrs. Horwill, mother of Jane Horwill who I am sure you must know since she has been a student here at the Academy for over a year now.'
Indeed, I did know Jane Horwill, but I'd scarcely been tempted to further our acquaintance since she seemed to me to be the plainest, most unenviably tedious creature to whom I'd ever had the misfortune to be introduced. That this voluptuous, twinkling creature was her mother was almost beyond my comprehension, although it is a commonly held belief, and I certainly believe it to be true, that sparkling, elegant mothers have a habit of overshadowing their poor, unfortunate offspring-most especially the female offspring-imbuing them with a dowdiness made even more apparent when parent and child are viewed simultaneously. However, I digress.
'I have taken the opportunity of accompanying my dear husband, who has business here in Switzerland, in order to visit my daughter's school. Alas, poor little Jane is at present employed in a period of extra French with Mademoiselle Cartier, so I am entertaining some of your friends here with a few little stories and anecdotes. I do hope we won't be disturbing you. Do please join us if you have a minute or two to spare.'
With that, Mrs. Horwill settled back against the firmly stuffed sofa and arranged her equally firmly stuffed gown around her knees, raising it up slightly in the front in order to facilitate the crossing of her surprisingly slim ankles and displaying her dainty little feet in their fashionable black button-boots.
Unable to resist the promise of a story (hopefully a naughty one, I thought wickedly!), I seated myself on a little footstool beside the sofa and prepared to listen. I was not, you'll be delighted to learn, in the least bit disappointed by what I heard.