Paint-covered hands were, as though by accident, rubbed upon smocks so that the contours of hips and titties were suddenly apparent. One member of the workforce was leaning forward and it seemed concentrating so hard on the final modelling of her creation that she had quite failed to notice that the hem of her skirt had ridden up to reveal her well-proportioned thighs. As we passed her, Hannah licked her forefinger and rubbed it lightly against the cleft of her friend's well-rounded buttocks. The object of her passing attentions raised herself slightly from her seat and for an instant the finger slipped enticingly out of sight between her cheeks. Without pausing in her efforts, she settled down again, trapping Hannah. She wriggled, looked back over her shoulder, staring me full in the face, round-eyed and innocent, and smiled so teasingly that Mr. Pego fairly leaped up again in response. 'This must be your friend Andrew,' she said to Hannah. 'The one with the truly enormous instrument.' 'We have few secrets here,' said Hannah to me. 'Polly, here, is only one of several who are anxious to make your acquaintance. But we must move on and complete our tour of the premises.' With that, she withdrew her questing finger, took me by the hand and led me out into a well-furnished show room. 'These,' said Hannah, 'are some examples of our recent work. Commissioned dildoes, The Gift to Leave Behind. That's the slogan that Becky thought up. They're all waiting to be collected.' A wonderful array of finely modelled members met my gaze. Each was nestling on a small, plump velvet cushion with a button in the middle. Some were thrusting boldly upwards, others measured their full length as though resting and awaiting their call to action. Most had been glazed with remarkably true-to-life flesh tints but others had under-or over-glaze, painted decorations, usually blue on white. One was willow pattern printed. 'Part of a matching set,' said Hannah. 'Dildo, ewer, basin, chamber pot and soap dish. A quite original addition to a lady's boudoir.' There were also two or three that had delightfully fanciful decorations: blue spots on white for one, a complicated design of diamonds and hoops, red and yellow on pale blue for another. 'Lord M-'s racing colours,' explained Hannah. 'A difficult commission. It was particularly hard to get the red glaze to fire to the correct shade.'
I recalled that I had seen those selfsame colours before, being carried to victory at a spring meeting at Newmarket. Dr White, my old headmaster, had taken a party of the senior boys for a day at the races. It was of course part of his philosophy of education that his pupils should be introduced to adult pleasures whilst still under his wise and understanding eye, rather than be left to find out about such things after they had left school. 'There is more to life, Andrew, then Latin Irregular Verbs,' I remember him saying. 'Not that a sound grounding in the Classics is unimportant.' That day had indeed been memorable. Not only had I backed two winners, one a promising two-year-old owned by that same Lord M-whose colours now adorned what I assumed was a replica of his thoroughbred prick-surely this must be the only dildo registered with the Jockey Club-but also because I had had the opportunity to mount a lively young filly alongside one of the Newmarket Heath gallops shortly after the last race. 'However,'
Hannah went on, 'now that we have got it just about right we have every hope of further orders, since Lord M-is well known for distributing his favours widely.' 'But what is that?' I asked, pointing to a fine specimen that appeared to have a signature running along its full length. Hannah lifted it from its velvet nest. 'A present,' she said, 'from a foreign gentleman recently in these parts who has had to return to the Continent. He ordered it as a memento of his visit, to be delivered to a Lady of Quality with whom he has spent a most satisfying two weeks. See -' She handed it to me. 'Count Johann Gewirtz,' I said slowly, finding it somewhat difficult to decipher the writing. 'A facsimile of his signature,' said Hannah.
'Look, on the other side-' 'The Gobbling Galician,' I read. 'I have a feeling that I have heard that name before. May I ask who is to be the recipient of this unusual device?' 'No,' said Hannah. 'As I have said, discretion is all if we are to continue to enjoy the trust of our customers. I shouldn't really have shown you in here.'
'I do promise very sincerely, Hannah, that I shall never mention anything of what I have seen here to anyone.' 'If you do,' said Hannah, 'One thing I can promise you is that I will never ever again let you into my confidence or my quim.' 'I solemnly swear, on the Honour of my Old School, that I shall never breathe a word to a soul.'
'I trust you,' said Hannah. 'I would not like to have to deny myself the pleasure of your cock, but just remember that there are other fish in the sea and other pricks in the pool.' At the thought of never again being able to slip my member into her wonderfully welcoming cunney, I made a mental vow to be utterly silent on the matter. 'But now,' she said, 'let us seal our sworn agreement with a quick fuck. I hope that you have recovered from the rigours of the casting couch.' With that, she knelt before me and unbuttoned me. Mr. Pego eagerly leaped out from his hiding place.
Cupping my balls in her hand, without more ado she took the whole length of my staff in her mouth. Her tongue played lightly at the swollen head of my prick as she gently but insistently squeezed my throbbing balls. Her lips sucked hungrily up and down my staff. Then she pulled back. 'You are ready,' she said. 'I can taste the oil still on your prick. Madame has been using the orange-flavoured ointment that we have sent over from France. It is quite my favourite flavour.' 'So this is a regular part of the service,' I asked.
'Of course,' she said. 'It would be most unkind to leave our customers unsatisfied, when they have so kindly donated their likeness to posterity.' 'Now you must taste me. Meg helped anoint me with another citrus flavour.' 'Oranges and lemons?' I said. 'That is for you to find out,' she said, lifting her smock. Although I had by now enjoyed her ever-generous quim many, many times, I was still quite carried away at the prospect that opened up before me. As she lay back on the carpet, I parted her thighs and in an instant was lapping at her cave of delights. My tongue slipped deep inside her, I could feel her clit swell against me as I probed ever further. There was indeed a refreshing tang to her. Lemon combined with her own natural juices. Truly here was a recipe for ecstasy. My lips sucked hungrily at hers, which seemed in turn to suck back. With a soft moan of pleasure, she parted her legs yet further, forcing her splendid bush into my face. 'Andrew,' she said urgently, 'I need to feel you inside me.' I drew back and without pause thrust my prick straight into her. She whimpered, closed her legs a little to hold me tight and began that rapid rippling contraction of her muscles that I knew so well. This was to be no slow, lingering fuck. We were both urgent in our need to spend ourselves. As I thrust into her again and again, she rose to meet me with equal vigour. Great gasps shuddered through our bodies. 'Andrew, Andrew,' she cried out, 'I am coming.
Come with me.' I needed no urging. Already I could feel that first gush of my spending forcing its way along my huge member. One wave followed another as my cum jetted out into her. Her own juices were flowing liberally in response. She seized tight hold of me and we fucked and fucked quite uncontrollably, writhing and twisting on the carpet. All too soon we were both drained. We lay entwined, exhausted, sucking in great gulps of air. Neither could speak so overcome were we. She smiled up at me and puckered up her lips in a little kiss.