Engels and Mr. Marx,' I said. 'And I have developed a great sympathy for the lot of the working classes.' 'And there was a lot to this member of the working classes,' Gwendolen responded quickly. 'I may not understand the economic sciences, but I am full of admiration for the hard Labour he performed that night and the next. Of course we looked after him with care for none of us knew when we would be able to lay hands on another such rod, pole or perch.' I smiled at her reference to our mathematics lessons. 'Or Rod, Staff and Comforter,' I riposted in what I thought a clever little allusion to Mr. Paddlebottom's scripture classes. Gwendolen looked puzzled for a moment and furrowed her dainty brow. I squeezed her hand affectionately with my thighs. 'But do go on,' I said.
'There is not much more to tell,' she said. 'Miss Brightwell returned to her room with a warning not to make any noise. “Since,” as she said, “I know that your evening is not yet ended. You have my assurance both that John will be able to stand up to further exertions in a short while and that I will report nothing of what I have seen, and felt, this evening.”' She then made a firm agreement with John the Gipsy for her to come down to his encampment one night after he had been returned and commence to put together a portfolio of drawings of Romany life. After she had withdrawn the fucking recommenced. Thomasina, who had been waiting patiently for her turn, was next. Then Meg. Melissa and I had to console ourselves, each with the other, while the rest moaned and gasped in sequence upon the floor. We had to place a firm hand over Deirdre's mouth at one juncture for it was clear that she was about to scream out in her delight. But the danger was averted and we composed ourselves, knowing that we were the first to be served the next night when our efforts were resumed.' 'So he lasted the course?' I asked. 'Towards the end of the third night he became a bit weak at the knees,' said Gwendolen. 'But as I now realise, he held out most manfully to the very end.' So if today is the anniversary of your first three fucks, tomorrow…' 'Is the anniversary of my fourth and fifth,'
Gwendolen agreed. 'And the very last, just before we had to take him back to his caravan, was most extraordinary. I actually slid down the bannisters on to his eager prick.' 'No splinters in the bum?' I asked. 'We had smeared the surface carefully with a soothing cream. It was the smoothest of descents and the easiest of entrances.
I realised then that fucking would be my chief delight for the future.' At that moment we heard the sound of another passenger clambering up to the top deck of the omnibus. Of course, being two well brought-up young ladies, we did not do anything so immodest as to turn to look at the new arrival. Indeed we both hoped that he-for it was a he as I could see from the corner of my eye-would move up to the front so that our happy intimacy, and our conversation, could not be intruded upon and we could continue to exchange information. However it was not be to be. 'Gwendolen!' exclaimed the newcomer. 'What a splendid surprise.' Gwendolen looked round. 'George!' she answered. I too looked round at this juncture. Standing before us was a young man who I had never seen before in my life. I barely had time to register that he was dressed as though for a funeral, when he half raised his hat in greeting and extended a hand. Here a problem arose. Gwendolyn instinctively sought to half rise in response and to hold out her hand. Unfortunately her right hand was still beneath the travelling rug, burrowed into my underclothing and caressing my nicely damp pussey. Gwendolyn though barely hesitated. Deftly she withdrew her hand from my private pleasure place and held it out to the stranger who claimed acquaintance. He took it between his own and bent to kiss it, whilst steadying himself against the end of the seat in front in order to preserve his balance since the omnibus was once more swaying and jolting through the ever heavier traffic, the driver flicking his whip and muttering uncomplimentary things about the competing drivers and cabbies. (Indeed I distinctly heard him call in question the parentage of one tradesman's van driver.) The young gentleman warmly placed his lips upon the backs of her fingers, lingered for a moment and then looked her steadily in the eyes, at the same time allowing himself a small smile. 'No gloves,' he said.
'And on such a cool afternoon.' Gwendolen looked a little embarrassed at his remark, particularly when he lowered his lips to her hand once more and rather boldly licked her fingertips. 'But one hardly needs gloves when one has a warm muff to hand,' he continued with a wicked little chuckle. Then, before I had had the time to consider how I should react to his sudden turn of affairs, Gwendolen hurried to make an introduction that set my mind quite at rest concerning the propriety of the conversation. 'Cecily, this is my dear friend Mr. George Russell-Lupin. Not only is he a very close friend whom I have known now for many, many months, but he has a truly gallant prick which is most prompt to stand up for any lady, no matter what the situation. 'One likes to be of service…,' he responded. 'George, this is my dear, dear former schoolfriend Cecily, with whom I am resuming acquaintance after a most painful separation of two whole years. We were indeed bosom companions and I very much hope that we shall shortly be able to resume that relationship. However this is not of course a sufficiently private place for that purpose.' Mr. Russell-Lupin, or George as I had already determined to call him for I have long been opposed to over-formality in social intercourse, looked at me with a wicked gleam in his eye, then darted out his tongue to lightly touch Gwendolen's fingers again. 'Cecily,' he said, 'I look forward to holding your hand in greeting. But in the meantime, here is an unusual and enticing state of affairs. Although I have not yet touched you, I have had the priviledge of tasting you. The sensation is wholly delightful.'
'This, Sir, is a situation that I have never seen dealt with in the books of etiquette and I am somewhat covered with embarrassment.'
'Just as dear Gwendolen's hand is somewhat covered with your cum,' he answered. 'You must have both been deep in conversation when I intruded upon your privacy. Should I now withdraw and seat myself towards the front of the bus so that you can resume your intercourse.'
'No,' said Gwendolen. 'Don't be silly. We had just come to a natural pause in our conversation. Cecily also had just come, but that's by-the-by. It was all my doing for I had been recounting the events of a most important day in my life.' 'Of course,' he responded. 'It is your anniversary. Your first fuck!' 'Cecily', said Gwendolen, 'I must explain that George has already heard the story of my first fuck.' 'And her second? And her third..?' I murmured. 'Cecily,' said Gwendolen, 'you will gather that George is already au fait with every last detail of that memorable day.
Indeed he was present on the first anniversary. Not to put too fine a point on it, George was thoroughly embedded in me when I first told him the story. In spite of showing great self restraint during the account, his final reaction was the same as yours.' 'I came,' said George, 'But only after one of the longest and finest fucks of my life.' 'When George was young,' said Gwendolen, 'he was well tutored in certain Eastern arts of Love by his Nanny.' 'His Nanny!' I exclaimed. 'The family were out East. The Nanny was passed on to them by a family who were returning to England. She had the highest references. She also turned out to have spent the formative years of her life in a harem and had there learnt many of the exotic practices that are such an exciting part of Eastern tradition and culture.' 'By the time I was fourteen,' George explained, 'I could, with the aid of some strenuous mental exercises, remain erect and fully inserted for ten or more minutes. By the time I was sixteen, I had got it up to twenty minutes.' 'Got it up for twenty minutes, surely?' I responded. 'Is it not unusual to still have a nanny when one is sixteen, even in India.' 'Indeed, yes,' he answered. 'But my parents were more than happy that their, may I say it, occasionally unruly son, had been so well taken in hand. When not engaged in his Regimental duties, my father was altogether taken up in his polo and my mother was quite taken up in an illicit liaison with the Adjutant.' 'Which came to an abrupt end,' interjected Gwendolen, 'when she was accidentally revealed astride the Adjutant, stark naked except that she was wearing his boots, his Sam Brown belt and flourishing his riding crop.' 'As you can see,' went on George, 'my parents led a full life and were more than satisfied when it became clear that I was growing up to healthy manhood with little effort on their part.' 'So the nanny stayed,' I said.