'But I said nothing as she swooped down and washed Mr. Nolan's knob with her tongue. She then wrapped her rich lips around the straining shaft and sucked lustily for a little before climbing up on him with her knees on either side of his torso. She pulled open her pink cunney lips and I saw her take hold of his cock and guide it inside her. Like Mr. Nolan, Patsy Miller was an expert equestrian and this was shown as she rode his prick with great assurance, twisting her hips and bouncing merrily away, leaning forward so that he could take her cherry nipples in his mouth. 'Her face was now flushed with excitement and she turned to me and gasped: “Come on, let me see what you have to offer.” I unbuttoned my trousers and presented my cock to her. She took it in her hands and peeled back my foreskin as she massaged my shaft. “Hey, big boy, what a whopper, that looks like a prick big enough for a man twice your age. And such a fine smooth-skinned shaft, as hard and stiff as anything, yet like velvet to the touch.” 'She continued to bounce up and down Mr. Nolan's prick as she leaned forward to lick and tongue my purple knob. Then, with a practised hand, she cupped my balls in the palm of her hand and gently pulled me towards her so that she could feed all of my shaft inside her mouth. Perhaps it was the lewd sight of Patsy sucking my cock which brought Mr. Nolan off so quickly. “Are you ready for it, Patsy?” he panted as she rocked backwards and forwards on his prick in rhythm with the grand sucking to which she was treating my delighted member. I felt such delicious stabs of desire as she sucked my cock, teasing my helmet against the roof of her mouth with her tongue that I, too, soon felt the surge of a powerful spend coursing through my throbbing staff. We both spunked simultaneously and Mr. Nolan filled her cunt with his copious emission of sticky white jism whilst I drenched her mouth with my spurtings of creamy sperm. '“Thanks, boys, that was a nice brisk fuck. I really enjoyed that and I must tell you, Fred, that young Frank here has a lovely salty tang to his jism. M'mm, nothing tastes as clean and fresh as frothy spunk straight from the cock. My God, his prick is still stiff even after spunking!
Oh well, let's not waste any time.” She lay down on the sheet, and pulled me on top of her. I entered her easily, for her cunney was well greased from Fred's jism. I slid my full length deep into her and began to fuck her as she threw her legs around my waist. She arched upwards at every stroke, her bum cheeks coming off the sheet as she gyrated faster and faster. She wailed with ecstasy as I grabbed her breasts and brought my head down to suck those lovely red nipples. I felt her cunney contract around my cock as I thrust madly into her exquisite wetness and all too soon the sperm came bubbling up from my balls. Luckily, she reached port first, shivering and trembling as with one last push I started to spend, spurting my hot love juice inside her willing cunt. She gurgled with joy as my frothy white cream hurtled into her and she milked my prick superbly. Then Mr. Nolan showed us his expertise at bum fucking and, as requested, I tossed myself off and squirted my sperm over her titties whilst her bottom hole was being flooded by Mr. Nolan. 'So you see, Rupert, I didn't miss out too much by not joining you this afternoon at Farnham for I was absolutely shagged out and needed a rest!' 'You certainly did not,' I agreed and I asked him where Mr. Nolan might be found. Frank informed me that our guest was still engaged in developing his film so I decided to go to my bedroom and take a bath as I was feeling hot and bothered after all that exercise at Farnham.
In my room, I took off my jacket when I suddenly remembered that our form had been set some holiday work by our English master Mr.
Bresslaw, the task being to write a poem of not less than twelve lines, a task which I had not yet completed. 'I wonder whether Frank has remembered either,' I muttered to myself as I took out the exercise book from my bedside drawer in which I had scribbled the verse to Diana which I have reproduced earlier in this narrative.
Perhaps it was because we had been studying Romeo and Juliet and I had been much moved by the plight of the star-crossed lovers that I decided to try and pen some lines on the joyousness of love-making. I took off my jacket and sat down on my bed, willing the muse to assist me. The first few lines came quickly:
Tell me where are there such blisses When lips are joined in heavenly kisses When lovers both convulsive start The passion only love imparts Then, just as I was racking my brains thinking of how to continue, there was a demure knock on my door. 'Come in,' I called and Sally, our sensual servant, came in. 'What do you want, Sally, my room seems to have already been cleaned?' I said. 'I know, Master Rupert, it's been ready for you since noon,' said the blonde temptress. 'But Mr. Goldhill told me to refill all the water jugs in the bedrooms-I'm sorry if I interrupted anything important.'
She set down the tray she was carrying with the jug on it and said: 'Are you writing another poem?' I was shocked-how the devil did she know? As if reading my mind, she said: 'I read the verses you wrote to Miss Diana in that notebook. Well, don't be cross. You shouldn't have left it around if you didn't want anyone to see it. I'm good at rhyming, perhaps I can help you with your poem.' Before I could reply, she was sitting besides me. To be honest, I did not believe for a moment that Sally would be able to complete my work. But I was wrong, dear reader, for Sally was blessed with an aptitude for versifying that put me to shame. It would bring a blush to all those of a reactionary disposition who insist that the labouring classes are incapable of anything but the most basic speech, thoughts and deeds.
For Sally helped me greatly as I put together the following ode:
Mutual keeping to one tether, Sweet it is to join together Throbbing, heaving, Never grieving; Thrusting, bursting, Sighing, dying! Decrepit age may beckon, teasing, Shrivelled up bodies well not abide, Vigorous youth, oh, that is pleasing, It is worth the world beside. Craving, wanting, Sobbing, panting, Throbbing, heaving, Never grieving, Thrusting, bursting, Sighing, dying! 'Sally, you have hidden talents.' I laughed but she shrugged off what I now realise was an unintentionally patronising comment. 'Oh, we are quite capable downstairs of other things besides cleaning and cooking, you know. Mr. Goldhill, for example, is a serious student of the art of ancient Greece and on his summer vacation last year went down to London to see the Elgin Marbles.'
'You surprise me, Sally, I suppose you'll tell me next that Wallace the coachman is a learned authority on the art of the Dutch masters.' 'No, Master Rupert,' she grinned. 'He doesn't even know much about Dutch caps. All that interests him is cricket, football, ale and fucking-which reminds me, as I've helped you with your homework, how about a farewell fuck before you go back to school?'