'Yes,' he said smugly. 'I do not know whether it is the keen Yorkshire air that makes people so randy in this part of the world but I give you my word that I am not exaggerating a jot about what happened after luncheon. Fred, Campbell and I decided to trudge up to the ruins of Knaresborough Castle. Living so near, you must have been there many times, but Campbell told Fred Nolan how the site of the castle commands prospects of great beauty and extent. Indeed..
“Knaresborough From The Castle Hill” is a favourite subject with many artists. 'Campbell was telling us about a secret passage leading from the castle yard to the moat when we came across one of these artists, an extremely pretty lady in her mid twenties, sitting in front of an easel and looking earnestly at the scene in front of her.
She was wearing a dose-fitting costume in the modern style which showed off her slim body and lovely big breasts which jutted out like two melons. I don't mind telling you that my cock began to stiffen just at the sight of these two beauties which were only half hidden by a low-cut top. 'Well, what do ya know,' gasped Mr. Nolan when we approached her. 'It's Miss Patricia Miller or I'm a Dutchman. Hey, Patsy, how'ya doing, honey?” The girl looked up and, Christ, Rupert, she really was a beauty. Her mop of red hair set off the most beautiful face which lit up when she saw us. “My God, it's Fred Nolan,” she cried out in a most pleasing Yankee draw, “fancy seeing you here.” They embraced each other heartily and Fred explained that Miss Miller was a distinguished actress in her home town of Boston and had played in many of the top theatres throughout the United States.
“Are you working over here, Patsy?” he asked and she shook her head.
'I'm over here purely for a vacation, Fred. The London impressarios have been badgering me and I was tempted by a generous offer from Konrad Kochanski to appear in As You Like It at Drury Lane in London.
But I've turned him down along with all the others! I need to recharge my batteries and paint and sketch a little. I'm staying with Lord Hugh Hoffner at Hampsthwaite. Where are you residing, Fred? You really must come along to see me there, especially if you bring along your camera.
His Lordship is fascinated by the idea of moving pictures.” 'Mr.
Nolan explained that he was staying at Albion Towers with your family, Rupert, and then after he introduced Reverend Armstrong and myself, Miss Miller showed us some of the pictures she had painted during her holiday. I looked over Mr. Nolan's shoulder as he leafed through her portfolio but to my delighted surprise there were no landscapes of Knaresborough Castle or the surrounds-instead there were twenty or thirty sketches and most were precisely drawn studies of those parts of the human body that we rarely see on canvas! There were titties and arses, cunts and pricks galore, Rupert. My favourite was perhaps the one of a girl with her skirts thrown up and her naked bottom thrust out towards the beholder in such a fashion that, between the spread legs, one could see her furry auburn bush and her cunney lips that were already parted as if in eager anticipation of thrusting entry.'
'How fascinating! Isn't it the very deuce of a coincidence that only last week Diana Wigmore, another female artist who loves fucking, was good enough to rid me of my troublesome virginity. I'll tell you something, Frank old boy, even if I pass all the University examinations when we leave St Lionel's, blow Oxford and Cambridge, I'm off to art school in London, Paris or Rome.' My pal chuckled and continued: 'And I think I'll join you, although my brother Roger assures me that there is plenty of fucking available to undergraduates in both those august establishments. Anyhow, as I was telling you, Mr.
Nolan was also much taken by this drawing and demanded to know who the lady in question might be. “Oh no, I cannot tell you,” said Miss Miller roguishly. “It would be wrong to divulge the name of my sitter, for all these drawings were done for private exhibition only. I mean, supposing I was to circulate a picture of your prick. I doubt whether you would want it bandied about amongst gatherings of strangers or passed from hand to hand even amongst those of your acquaintances.
Don't you agree, Reverend Armstrong?” 'Campbell took her point and commented: “I agree that your lips should remain sealed, Miss Miller, and that we must think of your sketch only as The Unknown Cunt. However, the love-channel in question does appear to be a most welcoming furrow and one can hardly blame any gentleman for being curious to find out the name of its owner.” He pulled out another drawing that showed a pretty, buxom looking young woman with a happy smile upon her lips about to kiss the uncapped knob of a well-sized erect prick that she was lovingly cradling in her hands. '“Ah ha,” said Campbell. “Now here is a sensitive sketch from life that I find most pleasing, with its suggestions both of vulnerability and of a half-ashamed boldness.” '“It does not offend you, Reverend?” twinkled the artist. “Certainly not, my dear young lady,” he quipped, “for it shows that the female in question has learned her catechism well. Does she not show that she knows what is the chief end of man? But I think you have based this picture upon an illustration from Mr. Angus Gradegate's Fucking For Fun which must also be available in your country.” '“Well spotted,” said Miss Miller with unconcealed admiration. “Only a very few people have ever made the connection.” Campbell replied modestly: “Well, I do have an unfair advantage here, as the girl who posed for the illustration in Mr. Gradegate's valuable tome was my cousin Louise Lombert from Dumbarton and the member she is holding is that of her friend, Mr.
John Gibson of Edinburgh, a gentleman whose penis is reckoned to be perhaps the largest in all of Scotland.” '“Really now,” said Miss Miller. “Is Mr. Gibson still residing in Edinburgh? I plan to spend a few days there early next week and would appreciate an introduction.”
She turned to Mr. Nolan and added: “You'll hardly credit it, Fred, but I've not had a good fuck since I came to England.” '“How terrible,” said Mr. Nolan as he took hold of the willing girl. “Let's put that right here and now! After all, we're old friends and I'm sure my companions will excuse me if I asked them to continue their stroll without me.” 'Campbell whipped out a notebook and said that he would walk on to a park bench a quarter of a mile or so up the road. I would have joined him but the fiery-haired American girl said: “Don't leave us, young man. You may learn something to your advantage.” 'Mr. Nolan looked a little dubious but then his face cleared and he said to me: “Oh yes, I quite forgot, Patsy prefers an audience whilst fucking which I suppose comes from performing so much on the stage. Come on, let's go behind the clump of trees over there. After all, you're welcome to watch, Frank, but we don't want to admit the general public-especially as they would be able to see for free!” 'I followed the couple down the hill to the place Mr. Nolan suggested and once we found an even piece of ground, I helped spread out the rug Miss Miller had brought with her and we laid it on the grass. Mr. Nolan quickly stripped off and lay down on his back, his prick waving upwards like a huge, veiny truncheon. Miss Miller laughed gaily as she stepped out of her dress and slipped off her chemise. She wore no knickers (it was because the day was so warm, she later confided) and she paraded her naked charms which gave me a stiffstander in no time. What a ravishing sight she was, Rupert, and I almost spent there and then as her firm, thrusting breasts swung gracefully as she pirouetted lightly on the balls of her feet, letting me see her delectable figure. Straightaway I recognised her pussey from the picture that had so attracted us. “The Unknown Cunt", as Campbell had called it, was none other than a clever self-portrait for there in all its glory was the pouting little crack inside the curly auburn-haired triangle which nestled between her creamy white thighs.