Mrs. Horwill cleared her throat and began:
'I had been invited to send a few days at the Somerset estate of Lord Somerville,' said Mrs. Horwill at length. 'Of course, I had quite a shrewd idea of what that might entail. Lord Somerville was famous for the recherche eroticisms which formed a daily part of the amusements for those lucky enough to he entertained at his country seat. There were games, competitions, activities outre enough to enliven even the most jaded palate. In particular, I was anxious to see the famous “Nuditorium” which he had established there, and whose splendid facilities were, I gather, the talk of every gentleman's club the length of Pall Mall. My husband had frequently spoken of it – indeed, he had even suggested that, were his extensive shareholdings in the Bolivian tin-mining industry ever to bear as rich a fruit in dividends as he hoped he might realise from them, he might very well care to consider something of the sort at our own Yorkshire home.
'We arrived at the house in the late part of as splendid a summer's afternoon as one could have wished, for. The house was perhaps slightly more modern than I had expected-built no later than the middle of the last century, according to his Lordship-but it was nevertheless a fine and foursquare edifice in the local stone, with some sixteen bedrooms and no less than two bathrooms. Downstairs, as well as a magnificent dining room and a ballroom that entirely equalled it in splendour, was the former salon that Lord Somerville had, with commendable speed, converted into his “Nuditorium” almost as soon as he had succeeded to the title. We were soon to enjoy its facilities.
'So hot was the afternoon that, as soon as we were shown to our room, I felt obliged to remove most of my clothing. I lay down on the bed in my drawers alone, practically panting from the heat, sipping occasionally from a glass of iced water. A cooling breeze blew in from the window, fanning the curtains that stirred lazily in the warm gusts. Idly I ran the frosted glass from which I drank against my bared bosom, and anointed my pert rose-bud nipples with drops of cool crystal. They sprang up immediately as if in salute.
'At this point my husband returned from the lavatory. “Now there's a sight to give a chap a bump in his trousers the size and shape of a Howitzer!” he exclaimed at once.
'“You still enjoy the sight of my bosoms, even after all these years?” I enquired of him, playfully cupping and squeezing my breasts and rolling my head from side to side, my tongue flicking my lips. “Come then, you must suck them for me. Take off your trousers so I can play with that fine cock of yours as you do so!”
'In a trice he was at my side, and his head buried between my smooth ivory mounds. He licked playfully at each nipple in turn, and then sucked deeply. Next, as I rubbed his cock, he drew in a mouthful of the firm flesh, and then another, until I felt he might actually swallow an entire breast.
'“Shall I spend over your titties, my dear?” he enquired of me, polite but urgent. “Though last night I swear you all but emptied me of a month's reserve of spunk, our long journey seems to have been a most wonderful restorative. Perhaps it was the jerking and lurching of the carriage. As it is, already my balls fairly ache with the lewd urgings of love.”
'“Of course, my darling. I am always willing and eager to minister to your physical needs. Besides, nature knows no finer lotion than spunk to keep skin smooth and supple, especially when it is of such delicacy as a ladies' bosoms.”
'I rolled over on to my side, and clasped that great ivory rod of his. I frigged him up and down a few times, and then pressed the bulging purple head between my titties.
'“See how the firm flesh enfolds your cock,” I exclaimed as he sensually rubbed his cock against my bosoms.
'He paused for a moment and looked down. “See how I rub its tip against your exquisite nipples,” he pointed out in turn.
'“Shall I frig your cock until your spunk shoots all over them?”
'“Of course, my sweet. Let my spunk gush all over those sweet strawberries.”
'“It is such a perfect summer's afternoon,” I purred, “that strawberries and cream would be an equally perfect complement. How I do like to see a rich, creamy spend at such a time. I am sure, my dear husband, you have more spunk in you than any man I have ever known.”
'“And, you have known many men?” he asked rhetorically.
'“Many men. Many, many, many men. And many women too, but not nearly so many as all those many men. But not any of them could cover my titties with spunk the way you do.”
'I seized his cock and almost instantly was rewarded with a great gushing jet of cum that shot right across my bosoms. Five, six, seven times, that great spunker of his pulsed and discharged its precious fluid against my person, as I writhed and squealed in pleasure, for I had been playing with my pussey through the open gusset of my drawers all the while and now could feel my own spend upon me as the great heavy drops rained down.
'“Aha!” cried my husband, so loud that I am sure half the household might hear us.
'“Aha!” I cried in return, not caring a jot as we writhed together in the throes of our mutual spending.
'And then, almost in an instant, it was over-at least for the time being. We lay back against the pillows in the breeze from the window, the rivulets of spunk already cooling, even as our ardour in turn diminished. With womanly acumen I rubbed the sweet fluid into my skin, not merely to prevent it running on to the exquisitely embroidered counterpane and spoiling it but also to gain the benefit of its wonderful properties of nutrition. A good thick jet of spunk, as I have said countless times to ladies and gentlemen of my acquaintance, is as fine a food for the skin as any of the costly preparations sold in jars by even the finest chemists of Jermyn Street. And then, for a moment or two, we drowsed together in each other's arms.
'Later we adjourned to the drawing-room for tea. We found that the company, as well as Lord and Lady Somerville, consisted of Captain Turvey and his delightful wife Annabel, and a Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, of Saffron Walden. After an excellent early evening meal of rice soup, rolled loin of mutton, curried veal and gooseberry fool, washed down with liberal supplies of a fine white Burgundy, we all took a turn on the terrace. Here glasses of champagne were served. Heated, perhaps, by the wine and the warm summer's evening, conversation gradually assumed a form and character that might have been eschewed in more polite society. Not lewd, exactly, but certainly a good deal more intimate than the polite and studied tone which so frequently characterises post-prandial intercourse.
'I am sure that Lord Somerville had read everyone's mind, for after our third or fourth glass he stood up and addressed the party.
'“'Now that the evening is becoming somewhat cooler,” he began, “I think it would be a fine thing, would it not, if we were to repair indoors and to show you something of that architectural indulgence for which, I gather, Somerville House has become celebrated in sporting circles. I refer, of course, to the Nuditorium my wife and I have established here in our ancestral home.”
'There was a general murmur of consent. I am sure that both the Turveys and the Middletons were as keen as Humphrey and myself to see it. Accordingly we took our glasses and, led by our host and hostess, strolled through the splendid reception rooms of Somerville House until we came to a fine carved door of English oak.
'Lord Somerville produced a key from his waistcoat pocket. “I prefer to keep the suite locked,” he explained. “There are many valuable items kept here. And besides, we not infrequently are obliged to entertain guests-mostly serious men of politics, and from the world of commerce, and such dull company whose general humour would not, I am afraid, be much improved were they to pass through this particular door. But I am sure our present company will find nothing whatever to offend them within-indeed, it is the fervent hope of myself and my dear wife that you will find a very great deal to amuse you here.”