'Hear, hear! Well said!' I cried out loudly, and this interjection brought me a friendly smile from the speaker and a disdainful look of utter contempt from Lord Blaxonberry.
Professor Webb stroked his luxuriant red beard and said: 'Carry on, sir. What would you add to this discussion?' I thought carefully before rising to reply. I would just wish to add this thought, sir,' I said, trying as hard as possible to prevent my knees from shaking, as public speaking has always filled me with dread and was one of the major reasons why I recently refused the kind offer of Mr. Lloyd George to stand as the Liberal parliamentary candidate in the safe seat of West Gloucestershire during the recent General Election. There is no sadder sight in the world than that of a wasted life, yet how wantonly Society condemns to waste the lives of thousands upon thousands of bright, intelligent young women all over Britain whose powers are worn down and diminished by long courses of boring trivialities and mental stagnation.' Though I stand in danger of being labelled a braggart, I can truthfully record that my words were cheered to the echo, not least by the attractive girl whose own speech had sparked off my contribution. Professor Webb brought the discussion to a close and enjoined us to read a variety of books on female emancipation-both for and against -and told us to write essays upon the subject that he wanted handed in to him in three weeks' time.
As we left the lecture hall, I smiled back at the girl whose cause I had supported and she made her way round to my desk and introduced herself. 'My name is Gillian Headleigh from Girton College, Cambridge and I'm the secretary of the college branch of the Cambridge Society For Women's Rights,' she said, holding out her hand. Thank you very much for supporting me against Lord Blaxonberry and his little coterie of silly young reactionary idiots.' 'I'm Rupert Mountjoy and I'm studying here at Balliol,' I said, shaking her preferred hand.
The authorities here are usually so stuffy about male and female undergraduates mixing together that I'm surprised you managed to obtain a pass to listen to Professor Webb's lecture.' She laughed and though we were talking of serious matters I could not help but be diverted by her mop of bright curls that set off her tiny, slightly retrousse nose and large cornflower-blue eyes which sparkled with promise. Her slim, lithe body was delightfully shown off by a close-fitting grey costume in the modern style, which accentuated the swell of her small but gorgeously rounded breasts that jutted proudly forward like two soft peaches ripe for my mouth… 'Doctor Blayers arranged it for a group of us to come over to Oxford and attend a number of lectures as part of our PPE course. There are many excellent scholars at Cambridge but it is generally agreed that Professor Webb is the most important figure in the drive towards social progress.' 'What a coincidence,' I exclaimed. I was at a party given by Doctor Blayers last night.' 'Yes, I was there too and I saw you talking to a pretty blonde girl,' she said with a little smile which showed two delicious dimples on either side of her lovely red lips. 'Would you like to take morning coffee with me?' I asked hurriedly, for I had no desire to let the conversation drift down this particular avenue! Gillian agreed and fortunately I had no further lectures until mid-afternoon so after coffee I was able to walk down with her to her lodgings in Pusey Street, just off the Woodstock Road. We chatted in animated fashion and by the time we reached the house in which Gillian and three other girls were staying for the week, almost to my surprise, I noticed that we were holding hands. 'I have some reading to catch up on,' she said, 'but you're welcome to join me if you are free,' I accepted this invitation with alacrity for the sun had come out and the weather was warm enough to sit outside, which I thought would be especially pleasant as the other girls were studying elsewhere and so we had the house to ourselves. I pulled out a rug and two deckchairs from the garden shed but Gillian sat herself down on the rug and of course I followed suit.
At first we both attempted to read but when I put my book down and took the trembling girl in my arms she did not push me away but giggled delightfully and brought her face up to be kissed. Our mouths met and in an instant her tongue was filling my mouth, probing, lapping and caressing, which made my prick swell up to its full height. My fingers found their way to the buttons of her blouse and I undid enough of them to allow me to slip my hand inside and squeeze the succulent spheres of her breasts, feeling the hardening nipples push against my palm. My excited prick was now threatening to burst its way out from the confines of my trousers but she slid her hands down to the bulge in my lap and quickly unbuttoned my flies as I wrenched off my belt. She drew out my swollen chopper and held it tightly in her hand as it stood up stiffly, twitching slightly as she worked her hand slowly up and down the throbbing shaft. Our mouths were still glued together as I slipped my hand under her skirt but immediately she pulled my arm down and muttered throatily: 'You naughty boy, Rupert! I haven't quite finished my monthly so we can't consummate our friendship this morning. But I do fancy sucking your delicious-looking cock.' We rolled about on the rug as I helped Gillian pull down my trousers and drawers and then she sat on my legs, her hands clasping my stiffstander as she bent her head down to kiss the rubicund bare knob. I closed my eyes and groaned with delight as she washed her tongue all around my helmet, nibbling at it with her teeth before gently easing my pulsating prick into her mouth, sucking furiously as instinctively I put up my hands to cup her breasts which swung invitingly before me. Then she placed a hand on my ballsack which sent wave upon wave of exquisite pleasure crashing through my body. I thrust my cock forward and pressed the crown further inside the warm wetness of her mouth. She was happy to engulf my shaft, sheathing it between her lips and licking and lapping my prick with gay abandon. No man's penis could resist such a cleverly wicked stimulation and I whispered hoarsely that I would be unable to hold back my spend for much longer. I always let this be known for there are girls, admittedly few in number, who enjoy sucking cocks but do not wish to swallow the spunk. I still find this difficult to understand for it can do them no harm whatsoever, but naturally their wishes must always be respected. But as Gillian said later when I mentioned this to her, she adored the taste of sperm and now she nodded as she squeezed my balls through their hairy wrinkled skin and with an immense shudder I expelled my creamy jism which hurtled into her mouth and which she swallowed with evident enjoyment. She sucked my cock with great skill, coaxing out every last drop of jism from my prick until I had been milked dry and she lifted her head with a sigh, smacking her lips in satisfaction. 'Rupert, your spunk has a gratifying tang. Perhaps we could meet at this time tomorrow when I shall be fully ready for you and you may fuck me for as long as you can keep your cock stiff!'