Lord Laversham then presented each of us with a robe and showed us into the cloakrooms where we were able to make our ablutions.
Dinner was to be served early as, like Uncle Robert and myself, the Prince of Wales had to leave Laversham Hall at an early hour. Our host then introduced three more pretty girls who were to dine with us – Claire and Phoebe, whose duties in a gentleman's club in London had prevented their earlier arrival and a local lass, Laura Macfarlane, a striking, big-breasted girl. I am finding that I am always famished after a good fuck and I have no complaints about the menu which was far better than the grub served at Albion Academy: Saumon d'Ecosse fume, Tortue Clair, Sole au vin blanc, Selle d'Agneau, Bouquetiere de legumes, Pommes de terre boulangere, Glace Vanille, Selection des Fruits, Cafe. This feast was washed down with a selection of the finest wines from the famed Laversham cellars and we had a very jolly time. I was sitting between Sally and Uncle Robert who I noticed could hardly take his eyes off the well-developed curves of Laura Macfarlane. I wondered why my uncle was so taken with the girl. When the ladies retired, I took the opportunity to ask him whether it was the sensual swell of her breasts that had intrigued him. 'It is an impertinent question but I could not help noticing that you appeared to be fascinated by her,' I said. Uncle Robert was not annoyed by my impudence and he smiled ruefully as he picked out a large cigar from the box being handed round the table by a footman.
Then, seeing that on my other side, Sally was engrossed in a conversation with Konrad Kochanski and that Penny, who was sitting on his right, was listening to Sir Ronald Dunn's anecdotes, Uncle Robert pulled his chair over to me and said: 'Henry, there is a German maxim that goes Wenn weiber aussernander geben, bleiben sie immer noch ein bisschen stehen. “When it's time to go, there's no need to rush if the women are still talking!” And let me inform you, my boy, that your Aunt Jennifer is no exception to the rule. 'About eighteen months ago your aunt and I had been invited to dine at some friends and, as usual, she was still getting herself ready whilst I sat downstairs in the drawing-room reading the evening newspaper. I was about to help myself to a whisky and soda when Bertha, her personal maid, knocked on the door and came in to inform me that Jennifer had changed her mind about which dress she was going to wear and so would not be downstairs for another twenty minutes. “Oh, very well, but please inform your mistress that we really should leave as soon as possible,” I said wearily and poured myself a stiff drink and settled back into my armchair. 'But, just a minute or two later, there was another knock on the door and Laura, the pretty new chambermaid, came in, She was a most attractive girl with black hair, big eyes and a saucy expression on her face. But her best features were her large breasts which pulsed against the thin, white cotton of her blouse… strongly that the outline of her nipples could be seen very clearly.
'“Good evening,” I said, finding it difficult to resist staring at these luscious, young bosoms. “Have you also a message for me?” 'She shook her head and provocatively stroked her hands over her breasts as she replied: “No, Sir, but I would like to ask you a favour. May I have next Tuesday afternoon off?” 'I wrinkled my brow in surprise and said: “What a strange question to ask me. Surely Mrs. Mutkin, our housekeeper, is the person you should speak to about such a matter.” '“Yes, sir, I know, but I don't think she would permit me to take a half-holiday unless either you or Lady Jennifer instructed her to do so,” she answered. Then she walked right up to me and went on: “I'd be ever so grateful, I really would.” 'I looked up at her and she passed her tongue slowly over her lips before she went on: “You like looking at my big titties, don't you, Sir Robert?
Well, how would you like to see them uncovered? I don't mind showing them to you.” 'The shameless, young hussy unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, leaving only the covering of a thin chemise over the rounded swell of her enchanting bubbles. 'With a saucy glint in her eye, she said: “Your artist friend Mr. Truart is paying me half a guinea an hour to pose for him, but of course I wouldn't charge you any fee.” She slid the straps of her chemise down her arms and lowered the garment and I thrilled to the sight of her bare breasts that now jutted out proudly in all their glory. 'Laura's eyes travelled to the swelling bulge in my lap as I sat transfixed in my armchair. Her hand followed her eyes and, before I could utter a word of protest, she was on her knees and unbuttoning my trousers. The little minx freed my pulsating prick and planted a slurping, wet kiss on my knob as her hands slid up and down my shaft. 'Then, she looked up at me and gave me a merry wink before she leant and began licking my cock, slithering her tongue round my helmet, and sending the most delicious waves of pleasure surging round my body. My tool bulged in her cheek as she devoured me, sucking my shaft with gusto while I ran my hands through her glossy, dark hair. '“M'mm, what a nice juicy prick,” she gurgled as she took a deep breath. Then God knows how, she crammed inch after inch of my tool down her throat until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. 'Her tongue moved inside her mouth, rubbing lure, massaging there, and generally exciting me to tremendous heights of pleasure. She sucked away so noisily that I feared we would be discovered but I would have defied any red-blooded man to tell the girl to cease her exquisite palating.
'So Laura continued to suck my cock until I felt myself nearing my spend. I lifted her head gently upwards and pushed her down on the carpet. Then I hastily straddled her and squeezed her breasts tightly together. I hardly had time to place my bursting member in the vale between those soft, rounded hillocks before my spunk coursed out in a tremendous gush. I moved my shaft from one side to another, drenching her titties whilst she purred and rubbed the sticky, warm cream over her pert, raspberry nipples. 'We dressed quickly and Laura was out of the room by the time your aunt came down the stairs. Of course I promised her that I would speak to Mrs. Mutkin. Evidently, Mr.
Truart had offered to take her to the spring meeting at Exeter Racecourse if she could get the time off.' Uncle Robert downed his glass of port and gave a heavy sigh. 'When I confronted my old friend about this the next day, he did not deny that he was infatuated with the girl who he said was the most voluptuous lover he had ever bedded, and you can believe me, my boy, that was quite a compliment because Lionel Truart has fucked more girls than you've had hot dinners.' 'Did you ever have the chance to fuck Laura yourself?'
I enquired. Uncle shook his head sadly as he answered: 'Alas, I was never given the opportunity, for at the races, Mr. Truart gave Laura five pounds to wager on whatever mounts took her fancy. She backed the favourite in the first race which came in at seven to two and then, against Lionel's advice, she staked her winnings on a rank outsider at fourteen to one which obliged her by winning the race by a short head. Then, damn me if she didn't win yet again. To cut a long story short, by tea-time she had amassed winnings of more than one hundred and seventy pounds, and to cap it all, Lionel introduced her to a friend of his from London with whom Laura became extremely friendly. Within a week, she had handed in her notice, saying she had secured a position with this gentleman and I have not seen her since.
Until this afternoon, that is. I would know those magnificent breasts anywhere. Before I could reply, the Prince of Wales roared with laughter and banged on the table with the palm of his hand as he called for silence. 'Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to any of you who have not yet had the pleasure of meeting her, Miss Laura Macfarlane. During dinner this charming girl informed me that she was recently invited to the headquarters of the Ladies Mutual Aid Society, which Countess Olga Pettroff founded last year in Bayswater. With your permission, gentlemen, I would like to invite Miss Macfarlane to relate to us in uninhibited detail exactly what occurred when she visited this den of vice.' Naturally, no-one would gainsay the Prince even if they so wished, and, in any case, we were all keen to hear what was bound to be a bawdy tale. Sir Ronald Dunn poured Laura a glass of cognac which she sipped as she told us the following story.