PART II
Sunday, November 11th, 1895 (before Luncheon)
I should also have recorded yesterday that Julian Clayton and myself buried the hatchet last night. After we had waved our good-byes to Charlotte and the Sparsit girls, he turned to me and muttered: 'Come with me to my study, young Dashwood, I want a few words with you in private.' Oh Lord, now I'm for it, I thought, but happily I was proved wrong. I should have known that Clayton – who is a decent, fair-minded chap at heart – would never have taken out his anger and frustration at being denied a fuck by punishing me, although I was also the cause of his coitus interruptus with Lizzie Dickerson. He pointed to a chair when we entered his study and sat down opposite me. 'Dashwood, have you studied Shakespeare's Othello yet? No? Well, Othello was driven to murder his lovely wife Desdemona by a so-called friend named Iago, who spread the lie that Desdemona has been unfaithful to him. Iago did this by mixing good advice with villainous falsehoods. At one point, he actually warned Othello: O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eye'd monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on. He paused to clear his throat and then continued: 'I must admit that I was very angry when you inadvertently interrupted my fuck with Lizzie and this anger was compounded by jealousy when you struck up a friendship with Charlotte Harley. Dr Muttley had asked me to sit with himself and Miss Atkinson, making it impossible for me to renew my own acquaintance with her. Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that my temper has cooled and you don't have to feel you need to hide from me.' 'Thanks, Clayton, and I'm sorry if I queered your pitch this afternoon,' I said. He gave a good-natured chuckle. 'I don't think you are, especially if Charlotte was in the mood she was in when we last met.' I said I was unaware that Charlotte had visited the school before and Clayton said: 'Oh yes, I'll never forget the time she visited the school with the other Sparsit girls, a few days before the end of last term. It was a splendid summer afternoon with bright sunshine and a clear, blue sky – far too nice to spend indoors. So, during the lecture, I managed to slip out to take a walk down to Webb's Meadow. There I found Charlotte who had also broken away from the gathering. 'We sat down on a ridged mound of earth under the shade of a small tree near the banks of the River Kendal. Almost from our feet stretched tall, thick grass which dipped into a small copse beyond. I lounged on my back with my head cupped in my hands, whilst Charlotte sat up hugging her knees as she surveyed the beautiful scenery. 'Then suddenly she gasped and tugged on my shoe.
“Julian, sit up a minute and look over there to your left in the copse. Am I imagining it or is that not a couple engaging in some naughtiness?” 'Dashwood, you will hardly credit it, but when I hauled myself up and peered down towards where she pointed with a trembling finger, I did indeed see a couple who, believing themselves well hidden in the copse, were engaging in what I can only describe as a most energetic fuck.' 'Don't tell me the chap was from school,'
I blurted out. The captain of the Albion Academy nodded and gave me a cheery grin. 'Oh yes, he most certainly was, and you can probably guess the identity of the female participant who is also known to you.' 'Lizzie Dickerson,' I answered promptly but he shook his head. 'Good try but no cigar, as the Yankees say. No, it was the lovely Polly, old Smeeth's daughter, who you will soon be fucking yourself now that Lizzie's chosen you to be in her select screwing band.' 'Yes, she did mention something about Polly joining in the fun,' I said. Then, remembering the story which had circulated around the school about Polly and Mr. Lewis, the geography master, going into a public house together, I proferred: 'And I would also guess that you saw Polly being fucked by one of our learned schoolmasters that afternoon.' He looked hard at me as he confirmed my supposition, saying: 'Well, don't be coy – who are you talking about, Mr.
Hutchinson, Mr. Clee, or -' 'Mr. Lewis,' I interrupted, having to clear the names of the other members of staff, although I felt I had sneaked upon one of the most popular masters in the school. 'Because you must have heard the rumour that he was seen with Polly in The Three Tuns.' 'It's not a mere rumour, because it was I who saw Polly and Michael Lewis,' the school captain coolly replied. 'And I'm extremely sorry that the story has obviously gained a wide circulation around the school. I only told one person about it and he broke his solemn word of honour that he would not divulge the information to anyone else. You can't always trust your closest friends to keep a secret, Dashwood, so I sincerely hope you'll keep your lip buttoned about Lizzie Dickerson's romps or we'll all be for the high jump.'
I blushed with concern, wishing George and I hadn't caved in to Johnny Bridges's persistent questioning. (I pray that Johnny will not succumb to the temptation to spread the news of Lizzie's private tuition.) Anyhow, wishing to hear more of Polly and Mr. Lewis's frolics, I said: 'Quite so, Clayton, but to go back to your story, did you actually see Mike Lewis have his way with Polly?' 'Oh yes, there was no doubt about it. They were rolling around stark naked on a blanket spread out on the grass and he was on top of her, nuzzling her titties. Charlotte and I saw her raise her thighs and clasp him round the waist whilst his bum went up and down as he pistoned his prick in and out of her cunney. 'We were utterly engrossed in the scene and Charlotte, sensing that I was standing behind her, all of a sudden pressed herself backwards against my thickening prick. Even through the layers of our clothing, I could feel her tight little bum rubbing against my stiff cock. I whispered that the lean, white backside we could see rising and falling in such sensuous rhythm belonged to the head of Albion Academy's geography department. '“Good heavens, surely you aren't talking about that nice Mr. Lewis? Why, he frequently bicycles over to my school to take tea with Miss Hibbert, our games mistress. I wonder if he gets up to such larks with her, she's a very attractive lady,” Charlotte exclaimed. 'With a little giggle, she now started to move her cheeks in time with Mike Lewis's buttocks which were rising and falling at a frenzied pace and I noticed Polly's hips lifting clear off the blanket so as to force his chopper even deeper inside her cunt. 'Then we heard a hoarse cry from the direction of the lusty pair and Charlotte reached back and squeezed my painfully distended shaft with her hand as she muttered: “I believe Mr. Lewis is discharging his obligations and flooding that pretty girl's pussey with his manly essence.” 'I helped her unbutton my flies and brought out my throbbing stiffie which she clutched uninhibitedly in her small hands. We watched Polly Smeeth and Mike Lewis subside into a quivering heap. When they were finally spent, Mike stood up and produced a small towel with which he wiped Polly's pussey. Polly then wrapped the towel round his prick and rubbed him dry. Mike Lewis attempted to slip on his under-shorts but Polly sat up and took his cock into her hand and kissed it gently before tucking it back into his drawers. He returned the compliment as she was about to pull on her knickers, lowering his head between her thighs and kissing her cunney before they both started to dress themselves in earnest. '“I am pleased that Mr. Lewis remembered to bring a blanket with him for grass does so stain one's clothes,” murmured Charlotte. Her busy hand now slid up and down my bursting tool and she rapidly rubbed my cock until she felt my shaft tremble as the jism forced its way up from my balls. '“Careful, I'm about to spend!” I warned her and Charlotte deftly stepped to one side and pointed my knob towards the copse just as the first spurts of spunk splashed out. Then, in the distance, I saw Dr Muttley strolling towards us. I hastily adjusted my trousers and Charlotte hid herself behind some bushes. “There was no further opportunity for Charlotte and I to spend any time together, but we have written to each other now and then and I have longed for the chance to see her again. On reflection though, I don't think she would have been amenable to any rumpy-pumpy because I have been most remiss and not answered the letter she sent me at the beginning of this term.