I was travelling to Edinburgh to attend the coming-out ball of one of my oldest friends, Susey McGraw, in whose company I spent not only my schooldays at St Hilda's Academy in South Devon but also a year at Fraulein Metternich's Finishing School For Young Ladies in Zurich, Switzerland. Susey and I both lost our virginities during the first term at Fraulein Metternich's to the same handsome young mountaineer, Konrad Kochanski, but that is another story which, Mr. Editor, I will relate at a later time if you so desire.
Be that as it may, when I boarded the train five minutes before we were due to depart, the first class lounge was almost empty, and by half past eleven all the other passengers had retired except for two young men who invited me over to their table for a nightcap. This sounds terribly forward but I must hasten to add that Kevin Durie (of the Argyll Duries) was known to most of the best families in London and had been a guest only the previous month at one of my mother's musical evenings where we had been introduced. The older of the two- previously unknown to me-was none other than that infamous man about town Sir Andrew Stuck, whose reputation was of course known to me although I had not had the pleasure of being introduced to the handsome young baronet before this unexpected meeting.
'I did enjoy your mother's concert, Miss Bunter-Dunne,' said Kevin politely, 'I am particularly fond of Mendelsohn's string Octet which I thought the little orchestra played with great brio.'
'Yes, it is a fine piece of music,' I agreed. 'The piece has astonishing instrumental and contrapuntal skill that serves an original conception of delightful freshness. It is quite extraordinary to think that Mendelssohn was only sixteen years old when he composed it.
'Are you fond of music, Sir Andrew?' I asked.
'Not overmuch, to be honest,' he grinned, 'I prefer the theatre to the concert hall and a rousing chorus of a Gilbert and Sullivan show to the boring dirges of many of the so-called classical composers.'
'Not only are you a Sassenach but you are also a barbarian,' grinned Kevin, but we chatted amicably enough, polishing off an alarming proportion of the bottle of malt whisky Kevin had brought with him to while away the journey.
Then the door opened and who should come through but Clare Corisande, another alumni of Fraulein Metternich's establishment (and who had also been deprived of her maidenhood by Konrad Kochanski, by the by) and who was also bound for Edinburgh and Susey McGraw's dance. Her Aunt Maud, who was accompanying her, was fast asleep in the lounge. She knew Sir Andrew very well and I was pleased to introduce her to Mr. Durie. In honour of this pretty girl, whose blonde tresses I had much admired, we finished Kevin's bottle and then prepared to make our way to the sleeping compartments.
But as we rose, Sir Andrew said: 'Tell me, ladies, are either of you familiar with Scottish dress?'
'Not really,' said Clare, indeed, this will be the first time I have been North of the Border.'
'Well, they have some curious customs in Scotland,' grinned Sir Andrew. 'For instance, let me show you a photograph of Kevin here in his kilt at Lord Bourne's ball.'
Clare and I looked at the photograph of Kevin in what appeared to be a tartan petticoat which left his knees naked to the elements.
'Did you waltz in your kilt?' asked Clare mischievously.
'Aye, I did, right enough,' said Kevin. 'And why not?'
'Oh it is just that I would have thought that the whirling motion of dancing would have caused your kilt to fly up and expose your…' and she stopped suddenly and giggled.
'Arse, you were going to say, Clare,' chipped in Sir Andrew gaily. 'Well, what would have been the harm in that? Girls like to get a glimpse at a man's firm bum cheeks sometimes.'
'Andrew, hold your tongue,' scolded Kevin, colouring as we looked again at his photograph.
'I have a far better one taken from the front,' leered the randy baronet, taking another photograph out of his wallet.
'Don't you dare!' panted Kevin, trying without success to grab the offending picture, but Sir Andrew laughed and passed it across to me. My eyes widened as I looked at it for there was Kevin, holding up his kilt to show that nothing was worn underneath that garment. His prick looked of a fair proportion, a thought that crossed Clare's mind as she told me afterwards, and we both noticed how Kevin's heavy balls hung low in their hairy sack.
'Kevin,' said Andrew, 'I do not believe that the girls think the sight of your Caledonian cock is more beautiful than the view of your bottom.'
'Well, that proves that our education has not been neglected,' said Clare boldly. 'For as the catechism puts it: “What is the chief end of man?'”
'My dear girls, we are all quite private here as the guard has gone to his compartment. Would this not be a fine opportunity for you to view the genuine article? Come on, Kevin, be a sport and show the girls your prick in the flesh,' said Sir Andrew. 'Meanwhile, you must excuse me for a minute whilst I answer a call of nature.'
Kevin blushed but I said: 'Now then, don't be shy. Both Clare and I are familiar with the sight of a naked prick. We will give you our honest judgement upon the dimensions and general look of your staff of life.'
'If you insist, then,' he said, unbuttoning his fly and baring his erect cock, 'I am always ready to please the ladies.'
Clare and I inspected his tool and we told him fairly and squarely that it was as big as he had any reason to expect and was well-fitted for all but the most cavernous cunt.
'I would be more than happy to entertain this cock in my cunney,' said Clare, moistening her lips with her tongue.
'So would I,' I agreed and I took hold of Kevin's rock-hard shaft and gave it an encouraging little rub. A few moments later the three of us were in his compartment, all quite naked and kissing and cuddling up together. I found myself on my back with Clare lying on top of me, our tummies and breasts pressed together with her legs stretched out between mine. Kevin moved between her legs and, after he had pulled her up to him, pushed his prick deep into her bum-hole. As he fucked her wrinkled little rosette she moaned and sucked upon my own rosy titties and when he spunked into her arse she almost achieved a climax herself as she grabbed my hands and held them very hard.
Clare then pulled one leg over mine and pushed her thigh up against my cunney. We were both wet with love juice as she began rubbing her lithe body up against me. Kevin moved his head towards my face and we kissed, our tongues inside each other's mouths as Clare continued to rub sensuously against me. He now climbed up on top of us and placed his twitching tool against my lips. I opened my lips to suck in his helmet and I lashed the succulent shaft with my tongue before taking in another three inches of his delicious cock in my mouth.
Meanwhile Clare was now kissing my erect little titties and I could see the shadowy figure of Sir Andrew Stuck in the background, undressing as fast as he could. In a trice, the randy baronet had his cock in his hand and was sliding in beside Clare, guiding his mighty rod towards my waiting cunney lips, which opened as if by magic to enclasp the crown of his thick tool.
All three were now fucking me in perfect rhythm and it was the most exciting sensation I have ever experienced. I came simultaneously both with Sir Andrew who spurted a copious emission of spunk splashing against the walls of my juicy cunt, and Kevin who filled my mouth with his frothy white jism so wonderfully well that I could not gulp it all down and some of the juice ran down my chin.