'I look forward to it,' I declared, smiling my approval as we lay motionless, recovering our senses as the autumn breeze cooled our heated bodies. She gave my prick a final friendly rub before I stood up and put my clothes back on. 'Wild horses would not keep me away from you.'
After supper I went to Frank's room where he, Barry and another friend, Leonard Letchmore were gossiping about the events of the previous night. 'I'm sorry in a way that I didn't take up my invitation to Doctor Blayers' party after all,' said Frank. 'Still, I did fuck Nancy and I'm pleased for Barry that he finally got his end away, as the vulgar colloquialism has it.' 'It was good of you, Frank, and I will never forget your kindness- nor that of Rupert, Beth and Esme,' said Barry with some emotion. 'Oh, Rupert, I almost forgot to tell you, the girls sent round a note insisting that they make dinner for us when we see them again. They have suggested next Tuesday which is fine with me. Is it convenient for you? Good, I'll write back tomorrow morning. God, aren't they two smashing girls. I'm so lucky to have met them.' 'Don't get too carried away,' advised Leonard as he poured out glasses of port for us. 'First love can often be idyllic and you were well served. But there are plenty more fish in the sea to be landed, old chap, and as my uncle Sir Jonathan always says, keep playing the sport until you find the special girl with whom you want to stay with for the rest of your life.' 'What, and never fuck any other girl again?' said Frank ironically. 'Supposedly not, though in my uncle's case that practice has certainly never been put into effect! Mind, he's a rogue of the first order though jolly useful as far as I was concerned. I'll wager that few chaps received such a sixteenth birthday present as I was given by Uncle Jonathan.'
'This sounds interesting-tell us more,' I said, settling down in an armchair. 'Well, my birthday is in July and I had just come down from Eton. Actually, my birthday was on the very day I came home and to be honest I was rather miffed to discover that every single one of my relatives and friends, with the sole exception of Uncle Jonathan, had remembered the day and sent me cards and presents. I was especially mortified as he had been perhaps the closest of my many uncles and aunts. But then later that evening I received a hand-delivered letter marked “Strictly Private” and which was delivered to me in great secrecy by our butler, Conway, when my parents were elsewhere in the house, as Uncle Jonathan had previously instructed him. It read:
Dear Leonard, I haven't forgotten your birthday although it might have so appeared to you. Now you know my flat in Albemarle Street off Piccadilly? We met there in Spring before we went to the theatre with Aunt Anita and your cousins. Be there sharp at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon and you'll have your present. But whatever you do, don't tell your parents about this or it will spoil the surprise. Your affectionate uncle, Jonathan Letchmore 'What was I to make of this note? Naturally, I obeyed his instruction and told my parents the next day that I fancied a brisk constitutional in Green Park. We live in Belgravia so I hailed a cab to take me to Uncle Jonathan's pied a terre, which he kept partly as a spare apartment for visitors from abroad as Aunt Anita hails from the United States and partly (as I thought in my naivete) for certain business purposes. As we circumnavigated the hazards of Hyde Park Corner, I racked my brains wondering as to what birthday present Uncle Jonathan had in mind and why it could not be delivered like all the others. 'Despite the usual heavy traffic I arrived there just before the appointed hour and the porter recognised me as he swung open the front door. “Good afternoon, sir, your uncle told me to expect you. He'll be with you later but you're to go right on up and wait for him, if you don't mind.” So I took the lift up to the fourth floor and saw to my surprise that the door of Uncle Jonathan's apartment was slightly ajar. This is becoming curiouser by the minute, I said to myself as I pushed it open. There seemed to be no-one else there and one look sufficed to tell me that there had been no burglary. I stood by the sideboard in the lounge and was about to pour myself a sherry when the door from the bedroom opened. Had the flat been visited by robbers after all? I gripped the decanter in my hand, ready to wield it as a weapon.' He paused dramatically and Frank asked excitedly. 'Go on, Len, who on earth was it? A sneak thief who had managed to climb in from the fire escape?' 'A jolly good guess, Frank, but no, nothing like that-the unexpected visitor had been invited by Uncle Jonathan and she immediately apologised for startling me.' It was a woman, then-a friend of your uncle no doubt, who the porter had let in before you,' suggested Barry Jacobs.
Leonard beamed and continued: 'You're getting closer to the mark now. Yes, the porter had let her up to the flat on my uncle's specific instruction. She told me that her name was Fiona but I hardly heard her sweet voice as I gazed upon the pert mass of dark curly hair which had popped round the door. Then a tiny hand brushed the hair away and I could see the most exquisitely beautiful girl framed in the doorway, as pretty as a picture with a face that was somehow disembodied as she smiled, showing pearly white teeth which sparkled in the sunlight that poured through the windows. She came in and shut the door behind her and when I saw her figure, dressed in a loose cotton white dress that was as good as transparent in the bright rays of the sun, I noticed that she was barefoot-and in the back of my mind I somehow thought that I had somewhere before seen this heavenly apparition. “Hello Leonard, we've never been introduced but I know who you are-and we're not total strangers as you saw me when your uncle took you to the theatre last April,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “Ah, were you about to pour yourself a sherry? I think I'll join you if I may.” 'Of course! This sweet girl was on the stage of the Alhambra and to her delight I remembered her name and the song she sang so delightfully in the musical show Berkeley Close. “You're Fiona Forster and you sang Love In The Park,” I said with a great effort of memory and she clapped her hands in glee. “Oh Leonard, how clever of you to remember the song. Did you enjoy the show? It's just finished its run after almost ten months at the Alhambra.” '“Very much so, and I remember how well you sang and how pretty you looked on stage,” I said, blushing to the roots of my hair. She squealed happily at this compliment. “Oh I can see for sure that you are your uncle's nephew.
What a nice compliment and I'm so pleased you could come round to the flat this afternoon. '“I know why you're here as well. You've come to collect your birthday present,” she added roguishly. I looked at her in astonishment and in all innocence asked: “How on earth did you know that?” '“Goodness me, you silly boy, don't you know? I'm your birthday present!” she said happily and in one quick movement she raised her dress over her head and for the very first time in my life I looked in awe at the sensuous beauty of the naked body of a pretty girl. I could hardly believe my eyes as she smoothed her hands over the creamy spheres of her firm breasts. I was rooted to the spot as she pirouetted gaily about the furniture, flaunting her tight rounded bum cheeks and the curly mass of hair which sprouted in a thick triangle at the base of her flat, white belly. Then she stood still in front of me and held out her hand. “Come on, Leonard, don't be shy. Come into the bedroom and take off your clothes.” I still could not believe what was happening-as if in a dream I followed Fiona into the bedroom and she sat me down on a chair and bent down to unlace my shoes. My heart was pounding,” I could feel the perspiration on my forehead but I slowly regained control though surprisingly, even though this delicious nude beauty was peeling off my socks, my prick remained obstinately limp and the thought crossed through my mind that I wouldn't be able to get it up, even though this problem had never occurred during our circle jerks at school or when I had read the copy of The Temptations Of Cremorne in the Geography master's study! '“Didn't naughty Uncle Jonathan even give you a hint of what your present was going to be?” she cooed as she helped me unbutton my shirt. I shook my head and she giggled as she loosened my trousers. In a trice I was naked save for my undershorts. She made me stand up and on her knees slowly pulled down my pants. Perhaps not surprisingly I now felt curiously vulnerable for I was so overcome by a mixture of lust for this gorgeous girl and concern that she might laugh at my fumbling efforts to fuck her that my prick dangled uselessly between my legs. 'But Fiona was wise beyond her years and she whispered: “Don't be nervous, Leonard, it's always a little difficult beginning the race but you'll run well enough once you reach the starting line.”