Instinctively my hips jerked upwards to force my yearning prick even further inside her mouth as her wicked tongue washed all around my throbbing tool. Savouring my juices, she drew me in fully between her luscious lips initiating me to fresh heights of sensual pleasure.
I felt I would swoon with delight, but Lizzie ensured that I did not again spend too quickly by easing the suction each time she rightly guessed that I was on the verge of an ejaculation. This successfully prolonged our mutual enjoyment. But Lizzie's blood was up and she pulled me down with her upon the bed, lying on her back with her thighs apart, her fingers stroking her hairy notch. She beckoned me to put my hand there too. I needed no second invitation and thrilled to the feel of the soft, warm lips of her cunney which moistened at my touch. 'That's very nice, Henry. Now suck my nipples,' she breathed. My head sank to her breast and I began to lick each of the aroused red titties in turn. I continued to explore the silky muff of pussey hair between Lizzie's thighs and she clamped her legs together, trapping my hand between them as I inserted my forefinger inside her juicy slit. For a while, she was satisfied to be finger-fucked, but then she released my hand and gasped: 'Now, Henry, now! Stick your big prick inside me! I want it all inside my cunt, you sweet, big-cocked boy!' 'And you shall have it,' I panted as I rolled on top of her and pushed my prick towards the pink, pouting pussey lips. But, in my eagerness, I could not find the gateway to her love channel. So Lizzie took hold of my throbbing tool and guided it home herself, inserting my knob into the welcoming embrace of her cunney. 'Ohhhh!' I gasped with delight, enjoying to the full the delectable sensation as we began our fuck. Lizzie possesses the marvellous gift of being able to contract the muscles of her cunney and she clung to my cock like a tight-fitting glove as I pistoned my sinewy shaft. Faster and faster I pumped, to and fro, and Lizzie bucked and twisted under me, urging me all the while to thrust deeper as she raised her legs high in the air and wrapped them round my shoulders. How tightly her cunt clasped my cock as my balls banged against her bottom! Her kisses rained upon my neck and her tight bum cheeks rotated in my hands as my lusty todger rammed in and out of her juicy crack. For us both, the coup de grace could no longer be delayed and, arching my body upwards, I plunged down one final time, crushing Lizzie's breasts beneath me. My copious emission poured into her and her cuntal juices coated my cock as her clever cunney milked my prick until the last drop of sperm trickled out my shaft. I rolled off Lizzie's heaving body and we lay together in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Lizzie turned her flushed face to me and said: 'Oh Henry, I must compliment you. Without doubt, you are fast becoming my star pupil! I shall miss you when you leave the Albion Academy and will envy those lucky young girls who will thrill to the feel of your cock when you fuck them. Just as some fortunate people can play the piano with the minimum of instruction, so you are a “natural” when it comes to l'arte de faire l'amour.' Now who could fail to be displeased at such a handsome compliment! 'Thank you very much Lizzie,' I said with as much modesty as I could muster. 'But I am sure any credit for my ability in fucking must also be shared with my wonderful teacher.' There was a knock on the door and Lizzie called out: 'Just a moment, if you please,' as she slipped on her dressing-gown and walked over to the door. 'Who is that?'
'It's George Nugent-Bull here, Mrs. Dickerson,' I heard my chum call out. 'Er, I have Mr. Hare with me as you asked.' 'Oh, very good, George. Thank you for your help, you may go now,' Lizzie replied. 'Mr. Hare, I will be with you very shortly,' she added.
Then she swung round and said to me: 'Henry, may I suggest that you take a book and read in the bathroom until I call you.' 'Very well, I know when I'm not wanted,' I grinned as I heaved myself off the bed and, picking up one of the journals on her bedside table, I scurried off to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. But then I realised that I might enjoy watching Lizzie pluck Bunny Hare's cherry, so I gently opened the door and left it slightly ajar so that I could see what was happening in the bedroom. I saw Lizzie open the bedroom door to Mr. Hare and she swiftly put him at ease, offering him a glass of malt whisky which he nervously accepted. 'I think I'll join you,' said Lizzie as she poured the drinks directly from a bottle of Glenlivet on her dressing table. 'I sometimes take a glass of whisky at night with Dr Muttley, especially during the winter months.
'An occasional sip is most beneficial for the circulation, you know, as my elderly uncle Angus up in Banff will readily testify. He takes “a wee dram” of Glenlivet every night without fail and last month celebrated his seventy-fourth birthday and has never had a day's illness in his life! He sends me a bottle of Glenlivet every year at Christmas.' Then Lizzie proceeded to question Bunny Hare with great tact about his lack of opportunity to enjoy any physical relationships with members of the opposite sex. As I had already listened to the sports master's personal history, I did not even try to listen to their low voices but looked down at the magazine I had picked up from Lizzie's bedside table. I discovered, to my pleasant surprise, that I was holding the November edition of The Cremorne.
Opening the journal at random, to my amazement, I found myself reading a letter by a lady of the same name as my father's unmarried cousin, Lady Gwendolen Gaymen of Worcester, which had been sent to the readers' questions column, edited by the club's medical adviser, Doctor Jonathan Letchmore. (Lizzie has kindly loaned me her copy of this randy publication so that I can copy the letter into my diary.) The letter reads as follows:
Dear Doctor Jonathan, A gentleman friend of mine, a lieutenant with the Coldstream Guards, sports a splendid, eight and a half inch cock, with which I can find no fault. Yet, despite my protestations, he is convinced that nature has not endowed him with a large enough tool with which to satisfy me. I know he is an avid reader of this saucy magazine and I would be grateful if you would reassure him that size has little to do with the quality of a man's performance as far as fucking is concerned. Miss Gwendolen Gayman.
I read Doctor Letchmore's trenchant reply with great interest: Dear Miss Gayman, Let me reassure your friend that, to use the pithy colloquial homily of our American cousins, it isn't the size of the ship that counts, what matters is the motion of the ocean. Many girls of my acquaintance who have been fucked by Prince Kochanski of Poland (Who is generally reckoned to possess the largest prick in London Society) tell me that, whilst the Prince is an expert cocksman, after a night's romp in his bed, they tend to suffer from painfully sore cunnies the next morning.
Frankly, I am surprised that any reader of this publication needs to be reminded of this, although note the witty words of the essayist and poet, Miss Elizabeth Thomson; 'Alas, most men believe that penises come only one size – too small!' In any case, eight and a half inches is a very respectable sized cock. If he cares to make an inspection of his fellow officers' pricks, I would wager he will find that at least half have weapons of a lesser size than himself.