Friday, 17 February 2017

Chapter 11 “The more I think about it the more nonsensical it seems!”



The Strand


Edmund Molloy, a journalist with the Daily Courier, has committed the newspaper to back an expedition to South America to look for dinosaurs on a lost plateau.  Having had an artistic encounter with three lady friends of fellow expedition member Lord James Hoxton, he has returned to the wife of the expedition leader, Professor Challenor, with whom he is having a torrid affair in a hotel in King's Cross.

“Of course the Amazon is a perilous region,” said Edith, an hour and a half later, as we lay naked on top of the sheets, warmed from our hot bath. The maid had lit the fire while we were having dinner. “But at least George has been to the region and has cognisance of where most of the perils lurk!” 

“And we will have Lord Hoxton with us, who is also familiar with the the place and brings great expertise at dealing with dangerous animals!” We were lying head to tail. I was on my back and she was lying next to me on her side, her head level with my hip. She was gently massaging my erect member as we conversed. We had already performed soixante-neuf upon each other, after our bath and now she was using her skillful fingers to revive my interest once more. 

“You obviously believe in George’s dinosaur story!” she said, pulling my foreskin over my knob again. 

“Do you not?” I asked, stroking her thigh. The golden hairs on it were catching the light from the fire; the only illumination we had in the room. 

 “I know that George believes and his Glossopteris sample is real. It is unknown today and may well be a relative of an extinct species but the survival of a plant in a remote place and the survival of prehistoric creatures are two very different things!” 

“Well, we will find out!” I said, stroking her bottom. She wriggled, invitingly. I could smell her musky scent. It was a scent I wished I could bottle. I had told her as much. ‘Eau de Cunt, Edmund?’ She had asked, laughing, in her delightfully dirty way. As I went about my business in London I had taken to wondering how other resepctable looking ladies consucted themselves when in private. Did they also delight in torrid sexual activity and swear, unapologetically, like East End dockers? Or was Edith unique in her uninhibited behaviour? But then there was Agnes, lasciviously gamahuching me and swallowing my essence like a music hall trollop. Even Mrs Somersby was happy to speak of the most intimate activities. And as for Lady Caroline and her daughters. Well, really! I turned my head and kissed Edith’s soft fluff. Her smell was almost overpowering. 

“I am just worried that if George is proved wrong he will be a total laughing stock and his career will be over!” said Edith, stroking my ballocks. 

“Surely, if he just proves the Glosso-what-is-it is real then that will be enough?” I said. 

“Perhaps if it had been the quiet, scientific expedition he had envisaged originally. Now, however, I am afraid that your newspaper’s involvement will mean that it is dinosaurs or nothing. The more I think about it the more nonsensical it seems. Without George here, bouncing around enthusiastically it all seems completely unlikely. Reality sets in, Edmund!” I was personally very glad that the Professor was not bouncing around there or I would have been bounced out of the window in very short order. 

“Professor Challenor, may be an arrogant, pompous, insensitive, self-centred, insufferable bully,” I said, carefully, “but he is not an idiot. He must well know that his reputation rests on this expedition. He has undoubtedly studied the issue extremely carefully!” 

“You are right, of course. He has been researching this for nearly a year! Thank you, Edmund! I feel better! Now let us perform soixante-neuf once more. This time I will go underneath!” This presented a rather different experience than when I was the lower partner. The angle at which I gamahuched Edith was different with me paying more attention to her swollen bud, rather than her entrance. I was also, given the gentle guidance of Edith’s hands on my bottom, more active in thrusting into her mouth. She massaged my anus with one finger and caressed my ballocks with her other hand as I gently thrust in and out of her mouth. I was careful, as I did not want to choke her. She was very mobile beneath me and I had to keep her thighs forcefully parted with my hands, resting my chest on her belly. I think that I preferred the other variation where the woman is on top. Still, it was an interesting experiment. Neither of us spent in that position and instead Edith wriggled out from beneath me and pushed me onto my back so she could straddle me once more. This time she did not sit upon me like a horse but lay full length atop me, her soft breasts pressing delightfully on my chest and causing me to spend by the gyrations of her active hips alone, as I lay there, almost inert. Her toy. Her plaything. Her instrument of pleasure. I wondered how long it would be until she tired of me and moved on to another. Perhaps Britten. Would we have any more opportunities anyway before the expedition left for Brazil? For now, I was happy with thecurrent state of affairs, as I lay in post coital companionship, the covers pulled up over us. My now soft manhood was still retained in her velvet sheath as she kissed my collarbone. I started to feel drowsy and soon fell asleep, still lodged inside her. 





The next morning Edith was in an athletic mood; knees up to her shoulders, hands gripping the brass bedstead over her head and hips thrusting back against me, enthusiastically, as I pounded into her. 

“Fucking! Fucking!” she cried as she reached her climax, just after I had pumped my essence inside her once more. She held her position and then gradually relaxed; placing her legs back flat on the bed and releasing her grip on the bedstead rails. She kissed me. “I really do think it is my new favourite word. If Lady Caroline can use it, so can I!” 

“Perhaps you should try it on the Professor. It may invigorate him!” I laughed, still shocked, but rather excited, to hear it being uttered by such a woman. 

“Dear George and how was Liverpool? I am quite desperate for you to give me a good fucking! Yes! I will try it!” she laughed. “You are pleasingly realistic about our situation. No petty jealousies are evident!” 

“You are the Professor’s,” I said. “I am only here to provide services he is unable or unwilling to undertake. Rather in the manner of a dance instructor, perhaps!” 

“A precise analogy, Edmund," she said patting my bottom. "Now roll off me as I need to piss!”  I got dressed, paid the hotel bill and left Edith to have breakfast alone. We had had one last passionate kiss before I left the room. “Back to best behaviour for a while, sadly!” she said, stroking my behind. I left, burdened with my overnight bag, gun case and portfolio and decided I had best drop them off at home. I deceided to spend some of the Courier’s money on a taxicab. As I placed my portfolio on the back seat, next to me, I realised that I had not taken any payment for the drawings I had done for Hoxton. However, that session had been so enjoyably bizarre I did not regret it. Well, perhaps the money would have been nice. I did have the three ‘cunt portraits’, as Lady Caroline called them. Well, in fact there were four, as Emily insisted on me doing another of her where she had three fingers inserted into her livid, red entrance. 

 Today was the day of the meeting of all the members to discuss the expedition but first I had to type up my account of my interview with Edna Somersby and deliver it to the Courier. After going home for a wash and a change of clothes I headed off to Fleet Street and the office and set to on the typewriter. McCandless was not there this morning but a telegram awaited me from Challenor in Liverpool. ‘Meeting today. My house. 7.00pm.’ I worked in the office all day and wrote up a few minor (very minor) news items for the next day’s edition. I also added some pages to my private journal, while the memories were as fresh in my mind as Edith’s intimate scent was to my nose. My real work would come this evening, when I returned to the Challenor’s house and what a strange experience that would be, if Edith was in evidence.  I headed out into the bustle of Fleet Street and the Strand decided to walk to the Challenor's house.  How would I react to Edith;s presence if she was there this evening.  I knew that I must not react at all or disaster could ensue.  My place on the expedition, my job and my teeth, all at risk.  I strode towards the Strand my stomach in knots.




Mason the butler let me into the Challenor’s residence with an inevitable sneer and showed me into a room I had not previously entered, which was obviously the dining room. The mahogany table was covered in maps, schedules and other bits of paper. On the far wall was a large painting of a pair of those ridiculous looking birds I was to become so familiar with in the coming months; toucans.  Lord Hoxton and Professor Somersby were already there, discussing tents. 

“What ho, Molloy!” said Hoxton. “Enjoyable evening, yesterday?” 

“Very much, thank you!” I said. 

“Got that stuff I promised you! Forgot yesterday!” he said patting his breast pocket where he kept his wallet. 

 “Oh, thank you!” I said. It should be eighty guineas; over three months salary! 

“Miss Blanc is here!” announced Mason, holding the door open for the lady as she swept into the dining room. 

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, shaking hands with us all in a very masculine way. She was from North America, I supposed. She was dressed in a simple moss green, buttoned short-sleeved dress over a white blouse. She looked business like rather than glamorous, as she had at the museum. She removed her gloves and matching green hat and Mason took them from her. She sat on one of the Hepplewhite chairs around the table, which I pulled out for her. “Thank you, Mr Molloy. And where have we got to?” 

“All the travel arrangements have been made, Miss Blanc,” said Challenor. “We leave on the Booth line ship SS Hildebrand from Liverpool to Manaós two weeks today! There is a question as to first or second class accommodation.” 

 “I don’t travel, second class, Professor Challenor,” she said. My first thought was how this would impact on the Courier’s proportion of the expenses. 

 “I was going to go first class myself anyway,” said Hoxton. “It’s a long voyage and the Hildebrand is a fabulous vessel. We don’t just have to cross the Atlantic we travel a thousand miles up the Amazon itself on top!” 

 “On the liner itself?” I asked. “Can the ship negotiate the river that far upstream?” I tried to imagine a liner in the Thames. 

“The Amazon is a vast river, Mr Molloy,” said Hoxton. “However, up near Manaós sometimes the banks are only fifty yards from the ship, although we will be there in the rainy season so the river will be wider. Still it is impressive being up on deck so close to the jungle!” 

“First class it is then!" said Challenor.  "Edith!” he cried at the top of his voice, making Professor Somersby visibly jump. “Edith!” he shouted again. The door opened and Mrs Challenor entered. 

“Good evening, everyone,” she said. “I am so sorry for the pounding your eardrums have just taken. I actually have very good hearing, which is something George does not seem to appreciate at all!” 

“Mrs Challenor, good evening. We have not been properly introduced. I am Lord James Hoxton.” She offered her hand and Hoxton leant down and kissed it, which was a bit familiar, I thought. She greeted Marguerite Blanc with a rather continental kiss on the cheek. 

“You are a very brave woman, Mademoiselle Blanc!” 

“Oh I don’t think the Amazon will be so bad!” she said, smiling. “And it’s Marguerite.” 

“The Amazon, no, but months on end with my husband? That is an altogether different and more alarming prospect!” Somersby laughed and Challenor glared at him. 

“Hello again Leon,” Edith said, giving him a kiss too. “Give my regards to Edna and the children!” 

“I will indeed,” said Somersby, clasping her hand. 

“Mr Molloy!" she nodded at me but did not approach me, I was glad to see.  "I hope you are recovered from your fall down our steps!” she said. 

“I am perfectly fit, thank you, Mrs Challenor!” I replied, desperately trying not to blush or react in way that might raise the suspicions of her terrifying husband. 

 “He deserved it. Coming into this house under false pretences like a wolf in sheep’s clothing!” said Challenor. 

“Now now, George! You are all in this together. Like a team."  Challenor harrumphed. "Now why did you bellow for me just now? Mason is bringing some cold meats and pie and a bottle or two of Burgundy...” 

“It’s not the damn food, woman. I need someone to take notes!” said Challenor. 

“Professor Challenor,” said Marguerite. “I appreciate that I am a guest in your house but I would prefer to hear you speak rather more civilly and respectfully to your lovely and charming wife!” 

“What?” said Challenor. “Why?” He looked genuinely baffled. 

“Miss Blanc,” said Somersby. “I think that you will soon learn that Professor Challenor finds it quite impossible to address anyone in a civil and respectful way! It would be like asking a lion to refrain from eating meat!” 

“I’m happy to take notes!” I said. “I can do Pitman’s.” 

“You are a man, Mr Molloy, albeit the lowest sort, being both Irish and a journalist,” said Challenor. “Note taking is a woman’s job! Thinking is a man’s job!” 

Marguerite stood up at this point with a dangerous looking flash in her eyes. “Professor Challenor, I have never heard such nonsense! For someone who is so dismissive of the ability of women you seem quite happy to take a woman’s money for your expedition. Perhaps this woman has now decided that it should not go to support such an intolerable man, with apologies to you, Mrs Challenor!” 

“Indeed, we all wonder how poor Edith puts up with the fellow,” said Somersby. “She must be a perfect saint!” 

“Thank you for your intervention, Marguerite,” said Edith. “However, if George does make unreasonable demands on me I jolly well tell him! Just because he tries to bully me doesn’t mean that I am bullied! I am very happy to take notes.” 

“Right! Good! Far too many damn suffragettes these days!” grumbled Challenor. “Fetch some paper!” he said to Edith. 

Please, Edith, can you fetch some paper,” said Marguerite. 

“You, madam, are going to be more annoying than the riverine insects!” said Challenor. 

“I do hope so!” said Marguerite. Edith found some blank paper on the table and sat, pencil poised. 

“Point of action number one,” barked Challenor. 

“George, we are all sat around quite a small table,” said Somersby. “It really isn’t necessary to roar at the top of your voice!” 

“Humph! Point one. Immediately book first class tickets for all expedition members on Booth lines SS Hildebrand,” said Challenor. “Point two! Book a hotel in Liverpool for myself for the five nights before our departure so that I can supervise loading and also avoid the damned fuss that will no doubt be stirred up by your newspaper in London, Molloy! Unfortunately, the Midland Adelphi has been demolished, Edith, as I discovered, having foolishly not booked, and its replacement is not complete, so I will have to stay at the North Western again!” 

“It’s not exactly a flea pit, Challenor!” said Hoxton. "Stayed there meself.  Very attentive maids!" Marguerite shook her head.

 “Would that be a room for two, George?” asked Edith. 

 “No, of course not! Why on earth should it be?” replied Challenor, scowling. “Oh! I see! Do not think that you will accompany me, Edith. You are to stay here and organise things from London!” 

“Of course, George,” she nodded and glanced at me. 

As the evening continued, we put together a long list of items we would need. Hoxton had, much to my surprise, as he always seemed so indolent, already listed much of what we should need. He had said that the expedition was so well known suppliers were even offering large discounts in exchange for being mentioned in the Courier’s articles. I noted down the key names. Mason brought in supper and the wine and I noticed that Marguerite ate heartily and drank heavily with seemingly no deleterious effect on her whatsoever. 

“How many local porters will we need?” asked Marguerite. 

 “The trick in Amazonia is to have as few people in your party as possible. How many did you have Challenor?” asked Hoxton. 

“Just myself, my guide Bumbo, who I have written to so I may avail myself of his excellent services once more, and a couple of local bearers!” replied Challenor, helping himself to a thick slice of ham. 

“Exactly. When I went I had one guide, a gun bearer and four porters. The smaller the group the less likely you are to attract the attention of hostile Indians. A great group of people will cause a right hullaballoo!” said Hoxton. “So we travel light! Hunt and fish for food. No large tents, just a few light canopies to help keep the rain off. It will rain. Constantly. Every day! We would be better travelling in September!” 

 “How ghastly! It sounds like Lancashire!” said Somersby. 

 “Or Ireland!” laughed Challenor. 

“I don’t think my newspaper would be in favour of waiting until September!” I said. 

“Well really!” boomed Challenor. “We simply must ensure that the newspaper’s editor’s views are paramount. Forget everyone else! But I cannot wait! The cat is out of the bag, ladies and gentlemen and others may try to race us to our objective. Undesirables! Americans, I am afraid to say, Miss Blanc. The French, God help us! Or Germans, even worse!” 

“I am Canadian, Professor, not American,” said Marguerite, patiently, as Hoxton poured her another glass of Macon and winked at her. 

 “Of course, although, practically, there is no difference!” he said. 

“There sure is but I have to say that I completely agree with Professor Challenor. We need to be on our way as quickly as possible!” she said. Challenor nodded at her. 

“Thank you Miss Blanc. It will take us at least three weeks journey from the main river to reach the village where I met your uncle!” said Challenor. “And the plateau is some way beyond that. Perhaps another two weeks! The terrain is difficult. We will need machetes!” 

“Well that is good, the rainy season should be ending by the time we get to the plateau,” said Hoxton. 

“And where exactly is the plateau?” asked Somersby, spreading a large map of South America upon the table. 

“Ah, I am afraid that for the reasons I mentioned I am not willing to say, precisely, at this point!” said Challenor. “Germans!” 

“This is ridiculous, George! Are you one of these people who thinks that the Germans are our enemies! What if we were to run into trouble? How can we be rescued if no one knows where we are?” asked Somersby. 

“Perhaps you would rather stay at home, Leon?” replied Challenor, smiling, which was never an agreeable sight. 

“Our exact location does not matter. As soon as you enter the deep, dark jungles of Amazonia you are lost to the world!” said Hoxton. “Have you been to the maze at Hampton Court, Professor Somersby?” Somersby nodded. “The Amazon rainforest is a maze the size of Europe with no clear entrance, exit or simple solution! You can get quite lost moving twenty feet from your camp! It is full of poisonous insects and snakes, electric eels which can knock you unconscious, piranha fish which can strip the flesh from your bones, jaguars and cannibals! Even the plant life is a trial, with thorns that can penetrate even the thickest conventional clothes. I have arranged lightweight gabardine clothing by Burberry, which will give us some protection. You, Miss Blanc, will have to consent to wearing trousers tucked into boots, rather than skirts. You will be surprised at the nasty creatures trying to get underneath your skirts.” 

“Thank you, Lord Hoxton but I have a lot of experience of dealing with nasty creatures trying to get underneath my skirts!” she replied, winking at Edith. Edith grinned. 

Having discussed clothing and boots for some time, with Edith adding items to Challenor’s, list of actions, Edith stood up and said: “I think perhaps we need a natural break at this point while Gibson clears the detritus!” She indicated the plates and glasses and rang the bell. 

“Not the glasses!” said Marguerite. 

“Well said, Miss Blanc!” said Hoxton. 

“You can call me Marguerite, James. Although, given your reputation, that familiarity is not an invitation to explore under my skirts!” 

“I had never thought of such a thing!” grinned Hoxton. 

“Lord Hoxton,” replied Marguerite, “when I first met you at Professor Challenor’s lecture I could feel your eyes undressing me, even as you took my hand. By the time you released it you had got me down to my corset and stockings, I would venture!” 

“Perhaps, Lord Hoxton was admiring your lovely dress!” I said. "He appreciates a fashionable woman."

“So I believe. You, Mr Molloy, were even worse!  I could feel you going straight to my birthday suit without any contemplation of my underthings whatsoever!”  Needless to say I blushed. I admit that given my heightened sexual awareness I was imagining what every attractive woman I saw looked like naked. 

 “Mr Molloy was an art student. He has a great deal of experience of naked women. I am sure he just saw you as a potential drawing exercise!” said Edith 

“Yes, I would bet that one works once in a while with some poor girls!” said Marguerite. 

“Perhaps they enjoy having their figures immortalised by Mr Molloy! He has recently completed some drawings of some lady friends of mine and they were delighted with them!” said Hoxton. 

“Oh Lordy! Really? Well, I think I do not want to explore that subject or the circumstances any more, thank you!” said Marguerite.

Fortunately, Mason entered at this point with the maid and they began to clear up, which saw everyone stand up and move into the hall. 

 “Facilities are down the hallway past the stairs, gentlemen!” said Challenor. 

“You can come with me Marguerite, if you need to refresh yourself!” said Edith and the two women disappeared upstairs. Hoxton and I waited in the hallway, looking at Challenor’s fossil display case. 

“About now, perhaps, Marguerite will have her drawers around her ankles. She will be sitting down on the seat. She will push and the force of her stream will force her pink lips apart...” said Hoxton. 

“Don’t!” I said, grinning. “That is a distracting thought. Of course it could be Edi...Mrs Challenor!” 

“Is there something going on between you two?” he whispered. 

“Not at all. We got on quite well during my interview of her. That is all.” I replied wondering if I could control my blush reflex by sheer force of will. 

“It’s just that I keep catching little glances between the two of you. And don’t think I didn’t notice you slipping away together at the Museum, either!” he said. 

“I confess that we have made an arrangement for me to draw her portrait; as a surprise present for her husband!” Britten once told me that a successful lie should always be told with utter conviction and should include as many elements of truth as possible, to give it veracity. 

“What sort of drawing? I keep looking at the back of Mrs Challenor’s head and thinking of that lovely nude you showed me with the superb arsehole! Her hairstyle is very similar as far as I can recall!” said Hoxton, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. 

 “That is another person entirely!” I said thinking that that side of Edith’s personality almost was another person than what we were seeing today. 

“Hmm! If you say so!” he said, looking unconvinced. 

“Well, apart from anything else, she is old enough to be my mother. In fact she is six months older than my mother!” My mother was just sixteen when I was born, which had been something of a family scandal. 

“Doesn’t matter as long as their cunnies are still juicy. Last month in Paris I had a French woman who claimed to be thirty-eight but turned out to be fifty-seven. She looked very good naked and everything was still very much in working order!” said Hoxton. 

“Well, I have little experience,” I said. 

“Lady Caroline, for example, is forty-three. You’ve seen her naked. Would you guess that?” 

“Not from her body, I admit. Maybe a few lines around her eyes give it away a little!” I replied, recalling her superbly lush form. 

“Well I tend to roger them from behind so I don’t see their faces!” laughed Hoxton. 

“Oh, I like to see their faces. I like to watch them as they come!” I said, without thinking, 

“Good for you Molloy!” he said, slapping me on the back with even more force than McCandless employed, “I’ll bet your innocent Irishman guise works wonders on the girls but really you are a proper man beneath it all!” 

“And what are you two gentlemen discussing, hidden under the stairs?” asked Edith, who we had just heard descending above our heads. 

“The beauty and elegance of women of a certain age, Mrs Challenor!” said Hoxton. “That the older woman offers so much more than the inexperience of a girl!” Edith looked at me quizzically and Hoxton said “Hah!” loudly. Fortunately, at that point Somersby reappeared and Hoxton disappeared down towards the ground floor facilities. 

“Were you talking about me?” hissed Edith. 

“Only indirectly. Hoxton suspects something so I told him that we had made a secret arrangement to do a drawing of you as a surprise present for the Professor’s birthday!” I said. “We really do need to be careful!” 

“That was quick thinking! So, George is going to Liverpool for five days before you all leave and I am remaining behind until the last minute. We can have five days and five nights of fucking!” she whispered. 

“Shhh!” I said, glancing around anxiously. “Fucking, sucking, fingering, and licking!” she said and giggled. I heard someone walk across the tiles of the hall and stepped out into the open, fortunately it was Hoxton. 

“Still fascinated by the exhibit under the stairs, eh, Molloy?” he said, as Edith stepped out too. 

“An immediate cessation of speculation as regards perceived but mistaken situations would be appreciated, Lord Hoxton!” said Edith, quietly. 

“The last thing I would want to do, Mrs Challenor, is cause such a beauty any distress or anxiety!” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it. 

“Why are you kissing my wife’s hand again, Hoxton?” asked Challenor, descending the stairs like a tumbling barrel. 

“Because, frankly, I am overcome by her grace and beauty!” he answered grinning. 

“Grace and beauty? What? Edith? What?” He looked genuinely baffled that someone would compliment his wife. 

“Have a mind or someone may steal her away from you, Professor!” said Hoxton. I tried to catch his eye to shut him up. 

“But she is next to useless! Who would want her? She is too old for a man to proudly show off on his arm, she is unable to breed and is far too shrewish! Any man taking her on would have to permanently stuff his ears to stop hearing the incessant, inane chatter! Fortunately, I have learnt to ignore it as I ignore the buzzing of insects or the rumble of traffic. Blank them out, eh, Hoxton? Blank them out!” Challenor strode off, back into the dining room. Edith stood there seething. Hoxton looked at us both and smiled. 

 “All power to you, I say!” he turned and followed the Professor. 

“I so wanted to say something there!” I whispered to Edith. “But I did not want to draw attention to myself!  I am sorry I did not defend you!” 

“You did the right thing! Just when I am proud to be his wife he says something awful about me. That comment about being unable to breed was very cruel! It is something I regret every day of my life!” I looked at her and saw a sparkling tear running down one elegant cheek. 

“I want to embrace you and I cannot!” I hissed. 

“I know you do and knowing that gives me much comfort!” she smiled, wanly. I stood there feeling utterly useless, as I watched Edith struggle to compose herself. 

“Edith you look upset. Has this man upset you?” said Marguerite, descending the stairs. 

“Not Mr Molloy. No. My husband was just... I’m sorry!” More tears came and she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and bustled towards the rear of the house. I watched her go and desperately wanted to follow her. 

 “He is a toton, not to appreciate such a woman!” said Marguerite. 

“Perhaps you might see if she is alright?” I suggested. 

“Indeed I will, Mr Molloy. How thoughtful of you!” she patted my upper arm and set off to follow Edith. I returned to the dining room to find the others going through the list once more. 

“Where are the damn women?” asked Challenor. 

“I think you may have upset your wife, Professor,” I said, rather boldly. 

“How? Useless fragile creatures! They are fighting for the vote and yet they don’t have the backbone of a jellyfish. Women will never be equal to men. Their job is to breed and if they cannot even do that what possible use do they have?” he replied. 

“That is very harsh, Professor Challenor. It is not a woman’s fault, if she is unable to have children!” I said. 

“It is not the fault of an artillery shell if it fails to explode but it is just as useless!” he said.

“It takes two to produce children,” said Somerby, unexpectedly joining in. “Have you had yourself checked, George? Perhaps the faulty artillery might be yours, so to speak! Firing blanks, perhaps?” 

“What impertinence!” said Challenor and I was worried he might strike Somersby, so I edged forward slightly. While I was glad of Somersby’s intervention I had a sudden panic that perhaps Edith was not barren after all, in which case... I dare not think about it. 

"Yes, of course I had the test and no I do not fire blanks, as you so crassly put it!” said Challenor.  Really!"  I inwardly relaxed. 

 “Calm down, gentlemen!” interjected Hoxton. “This subject does not advance our preparations one jot and I remind you all that we have less than two weeks until the Hildebrand sails. There is still much to do. Now, what scientific instruments might you need, bearing in mind what I said about keeping things lightweight?” The discussion continued and the ladies rejoined us about a quarter of an hour later. Challenor didn’t acknowledge his wife when they returned but she resumed taking notes. “One thing,” said Hoxton, after a while. “Where should we have everything delivered to? Food, clothing, tents etc. Here?” 

“I do not want the house cluttered any more than it already is,” said Edith. “We have quite enough of George’s rubbish here as it is!” 

“Rubbish, woman?” he barked. 

“Rubbish, George. In every room in the house!” 

“Specimens! Books! Papers! Fossils! Relics! Not rubbish!” he glared at her. 

“Whatever they are, this house is full. I would imagine that you will want your supplies accessible for cataloguing at least. Somewhere else will have to be found!” said Edith. Challenor glared but said nothing.

 “I have an idea,” said Somersby. 

“Perhaps for the first time,” laughed Challenor.


Chapter notes on this episode can be found here.

Tuesday, 10 January 2017

Chapter 10 “Now you have completely ruined my plan by choosing to accompany him!”

Reggiori's restaurant, King's Cross


Edmund Molloy, a journalist for The Daily Courier, has volunteered to join an expedition to South America to look for prehistoric creatures. Following a visit to expedition member Lord Hoxton's rooms, he has been engaged to draw his lady friend and her daughters.  He is currently staying in an hotel with Edith, the wife of the expedition leader, Professor Challenor, with whom he is having an increasingly passionate affair.



“Would you mind, Edith, if I conducted an interview with you as regards your feelings regarding the Professor embarking on this expedition?” I asked her.  It was eight in the morning and we had been kissing and gently caressing each other for some time.  I just delighted in the feel of her soft, warm flesh. Something about sleeping, naked, together had transformed it into something muskily fragrant, warm and pliant.  It was not the skin of the women I had first encountered fresh from the bath in her house but something offering tangible memories of passion, as if it had absorbed, like photographic film absorbs light, the essence of our passionate coupling the night before.  “I am, of course, writing pieces about all the principal actors,”  I continued, “but there is an insatiable interest in everything to do with the expedition and so those associated with the principals are of great interest to our readers as well.  I intend to interview Mrs Somersby also,” I said. 

“Presumably you will not be asking her questions while you both lie naked in bed, her mouth upon your cock!” she said, after pulling her lips from my knob, where she had been slowly and wetly gamahuching me. 

“Indeed not. It would be very difficult for her to answer while applying her mouth to my manhood!” She prodded me in the stomach. 

“I do not think that you will find Edna Somersby quite as accommodating as myself, Edmund! Although she is always fun!  I will answer your questions but only if you are penetrating me at the same time and you only have as long as it takes for you to spend. So softly and gently this morning,  I would suggest.” She lay down next to me on her back and I positioned myself on top of her, resting on my forearms.  She guided me into her wetness. I pushed once and lodged comfortably inside her as deeply as I could. 

“There! Lovely! I find this very comforting. Ask away, Mr Molloy!” 

“Mrs Challenor,” I began, then paused. “I really need a Pitman’s stenographer to take notes!” 

“Perhaps one of Lady Caroline’s daughters might serve, although I doubt if either could do shorthand. It would be amusing to have one of them sitting in that chair while you attend to me in this manner!"  

“I am not sure whether amusing is the correct term.”  I frowned, looking at my notebook on the bedside table, where I had been entertaining Edith by writing an account of our bathroom copulation the previous night; she adding her own recollections to ensure accuracy. 

“It would be even more amusing to then watch you take her in turn!” added Edith. 

“Really?” I asked, pausing in my gentle thrusting. 

“Yes! I would love to watch you screw another woman!” 

“But, aren’t we...” I began. 

“We are not a we, Edmund. There is me and then there is you, whose role is to attend to me, sexually. If I decide I will get sexual pleasure from watching you with another woman then you will do as you are told!” she grinned and poked me in the side.  “Like a good boy!”   I told her of how Lady Caroline had asked me to invite her over to join myself, Lady Caroline and her daughters the previous evening.  A detail I had omitted when giving my account the previous night. 

“Oh! I would have gone, I think!” 

“Really?” I asked. 

“Oh yes, I rather think so. I would have sat behind you both and watched you penetrating her wet, pink parts, your lovely cock coated in her juices, your ballocks bouncing, the muscles in your buttocks flexing.  Yes. I would have sat behind you, with my lags akimbo, frigging!  I have never seen another couple do it.  I would like to very much.  It would be most arousing!  Just the sight itself and the fact that they know you are watching.  For it to be someone I have had myself would be doubly arousing!” she laughed. 

“I just assumed...”  I began, realising that her comments had aroused me into thrusting into her once more. 

“Never assume anything as far as I am concerned, Edmund!” she said.  “Now, your interview is not proceeding very well. While Lady Caroline’s ripe and juicy daughters are unlikely to be able to do shorthand I, however, can. Pass me your notebook and I will record our discussion while you pose your questions and take me at the same time!  However, I do think it will be easier if you are underneath!"  I rolled off her and grabbed my notebook, which I passed to her. I lay on my back and she sat astride my hips as I guided myself up into her wetness. She wriggled, impaled.

"There that is much better!" she said.  She held up her notebook and sat, pencil poised, looking at me expectantly.  She raised an eyebrow.  "Shall we proceed, Mr Molloy?"  I pulled my hips down and thrust up, forcefully.

"Oh!" she said and smiled. She began taking notes, as I asked her about her birthplace, her family and education. She had attended Somerville Hall, as it then was, in Oxford, I discovered, and she complained about the fact that it was not permitted for her study there to result in a degree.  There was a small digression upon the matter of women’s emancipation.  She said that she had met Professor Challenor in her early thirties, when she had started to despair of ever finding a husband. 

“And did Professor Challenor take your virginity?” I asked, giving her a particularly forceful thrust. 

“He did indeed, on our wedding night. He is quite a traditional man!” she said, rotating her hips gently.  “Although I admit to being surprised that he asked me to lie on my front with my posterior in the air. Presented, as he put it.  I had little concept of copulation but I did know enough to know that it was usually conducted face to face.   I put his request down to the fact that he had spent a great deal of time studying great apes.  I imagine that this little revelation is not going into your piece for the Courier?”  She smiled at me over my notebook and I smiled back as I gave her three quick, hard thrusts. 

“It is by way of researching character background,” I said. “It will go into my personal sexual journal!”

“How exciting! Oh! I will enjoy you reading aloud your other adventures to me in due course! Especially those concerning other women!” 

“And what would your personal sexual journal contain, Edith? 

“Many exciting and arousing episodes, Edmund.  I hope that you are not under the mistaken impression that you are the first young man I have fornicated with!” 

“I am the young man who is fornicating with you now and that, for me, is more than enough!” I replied. 

“The truth is that I like to have some physical companionship when George is away and, as I mentioned at the museum, I had lined you up for my entertainment for the ensuing months.  Now you have completely ruined my plan by choosing to accompany him.  You can have me for the remaining few weeks and then I will seek another; perhaps your friend William. He is a fine looking man!” 

“So you say.  I think he would be very amenable to such an arrangement,” I said, thinking that if it was inevitable that someone else was going to have her it might as well be my friend.

“You must arrange dinner with him before you go!” she said. 

“I will do so!” I said. “Now put my notebook and pencil down as I am going to attend to you properly, Edith!” 

“Please do so, Edmund!” she said.  I grabbed her by the hips and threw her bodily onto her back.  I climbed between her spread thighs and entered her, roughly, She clamped her legs around my hips. “As violently as you like!” I looked down at her lovely face and smiled at her. 

“You are quite gorgeous!” I said. 

“Only quite?” 

 “Completely gorgeous!” I said. 

“I am quite aware of my charms, Edmund. I am not lacking in male admirers. Now, less talking and more screwing!” she said. I shook my head at her language but set too with vigour.  We looked into each other’s eyes throughout as we became increasingly lost in our passions, enjoying almost simultaneous climaxes.

Shortly afterwards, Edith lay on her back with her hands behind her head and one knee lifted, her foot flat on the bed. I sat to one side, drawing her voluptuous form once more. “Did you mean that about watching me take another woman or were you just teasing me?” I asked, finishing my impression of the pale fluff under her arms. 

“I meant it, certainly.” 

“I am due to draw the ladies this afternoon...” 

“I could come!” she said and laughed, dirtily.  

“You could not because Lord Hoxton will be there and he is a member of your husband’s expedition as well!” I pointed out. 

“Oh yes!   How silly of me!  Bugger! I’ll have to find another woman for you, Edmund!” she laughed.  “Have you finished your drawing?” I had stopped sketching to examine it.   It had something of the eighteenth century  about it.  Perhaps even something of Boucher.   I was pleased.

 “Indeed!"  I showed her. 

“That is a particularly fine one, Edmund. You are very skilled and not just in the carnal arts!” 

“Those I am still learning Edith. I have a very good teacher!” I placed the drawing on the floor and regarded another blank sheet of paper. 

“Time for one more quick sketch, Edmund and then you must be off to the Courier!” Edith parted her thighs and placed her hand on her mound.  “I am going to frig myself and you will draw me!”   And I did. 





“Mrs Challenor will particularly miss the marital attention of her beloved husband during the long months he will be away!” read McCandless, in the office later that morning.  “I can’t print that ,Molloy!  What were you thinking, discussing such matters?  Even if she was happy to discuss such a personal issue I am sure that if he read it in the Courier the Professor would contrive to throw you down another flight of steps!  Myself too, probably. You do seem to be getting quite friendly with Mrs Challenor.  Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak away down that darkened corridor in the museum after the Professor’s lecture.  A dangerous game, laddie, a very dangerous game.  Handsome, childless women of that age can lead a young man astray!  Perhaps it is just as well that you are leaving London soon!  Speaking of which, when the Professor gets back from Liverpool I want you to get all the details of the travel arrangements so we can arrange a big send off,  Mayor of Liverpool, a band and such like!”

 “Liverpool has a Lord Mayor,” I said.

“Even better! Get on to his office right away!”

“We have a meeting of the full party the day after tomorrow, to discuss the expedition.  Lord Hoxton is arranging appropriate equipment and such and I am off to the Army and Navy store myself this afternoon!”

“Excellent! Keep up the good work, Molloy, but leave Mrs Challenor alone!"

“Well, I have completed my interview with her so there is no further need to see her!”  I said, rather convincingly, I thought.

“What about that wee lassie who had you up all night the other day?  What’s become of her?” asked McCandless.

“That lady was in the nature of a transient experience!” I said, thinking of Hoshimi’s perfect porcelain doll complexion.

“Well, I hope she was clean and you didn’t pay too much for her!” he said, gruffly.

 “It wasn’t like that!” I said, even though it was.

“Nothing against it, Molloy.  Back in India we all paid for our female company!   You just have to be careful, mind!” he said.  The thought of McCandless inflicting himself on some poor Indian whore did not engender very pleasant thoughts.   He had been in the Gordon Highlanders in the Afghan War at the same time that Hoxton served.

“You know Challenor. He is a violent and aggressive man with a God-like belief in hisself. If you even look at his wife he will break every bone in your body!” said McCandless.

“I take your point, completely. I would not want that to happen at all!” I said, wishing he would drop the subject.

“Aye, well. Consider yerself warned!” he concluded.




I had agreed to meet Mrs Somersby for lunch at the Charing Cross Hotel and walked there down the Strand from the Courier’s offices. We had had no chance to speak at the lecture, as she had left immediately afterwards. She was a very different prospect from Edith but I warmed to her very quickly.  She was down to earth, amusing and obviously fond of her food.

“Do you think it would be frightfully piggy of me to have a fish course between the soup and the lamb? she asked, as the waiter stood there, expectantly.

 “The Courier is paying for everything, Mrs Somersby! Treat yourself!” She grinned like a naughty schoolgirl and ordered a Dover sole in addition to what she had ordered previously.

“Have you already interviewed Edith?” she asked.  “Despite the rather theatrical tensions between our respective husbands the two of us have always got along splendidly!”

“Yes, indeed! I spoke to her this morning!  A little more Moselle, Mrs Somersby?"

“Oh, alright, Mr Molloy!” I nodded at another waiter who went off for a second bottle. She had already demolished the best part of a bottle while eating both her and my bread rolls.

“German wine is very light, Mrs Somersby!” I said.

“Perfect for lunch times!” she laughed. “Please call me Edna!  Edna and Edith! We sound like a rather naughty music hall act. Flashing our stockings and singing dubious songs. Edith would no doubt be quite happy strutting around on stage in her unmentionables, as I saw some of the ladies in Paris do when Leon took me there for a lecture he was giving.  If I had a figure like hers I would do the same!  She giggled.  “In some of the theatres there the girls are practically naked I am told! How entertaining!”

“So I gather, although I have never been to Paris!” I said.

“You should go. Such wonderful galleries and the opera is divine!  Pretty girls too!  A handsome man like you would cause quite a fluttering of feminine Gallic hearts, I would imagine.”

“I’d love to visit the Louvre.   I studied art myself!”

“Really. How marvellous!   I would love to be able to draw!   I am very interested in botany, although I do not have the benefit of an academic training like Edith.  It would be lovely to be able to draw plants and flowers.  Do you draw flowers Mr Molloy?  Or are naked women more to your taste?”  I nearly choked on my wine.  “I see that they are!”

“I am interested in drawing many things! I am looking forward to drawing the wonders of Amazonia!” I said, trying to get the subject back onto the expedition.

“And has Edith modelled for you yet?” she asked.

“I am sorry? I don’t understand!” I said, wishing the waiter would return with the wine.

“Well, as she tells me, she likes to have a series of young men to, er, entertain her when George is away.  I think poor George thinks more of his fossils than he does of his wife’s pleasure.  I am very lucky with Leon. He is still a very virile man, despite being twenty years older than I am.  We have five children and poor Edith has none.  I think her first young man, who was American, was almost by way of seeing if the problem was down to her or, in fact, George.  She seems to enjoy foreigners, although you aren’t really that foreign, being Irish.”

“I am really not sure what you are saying, Mrs Somersby!” I said but knew I was blushing.

“Ah! So you are Edith’s new paramour!  Well she has always had good taste, apart from the single inexplicable choice of her husband!  You won’t enjoy her for long as you will be off to the jungle, vainly looking for non-existent dinosaurs!" she smiled and then a look of revelation came over her face.  "Oh, of course! You met her before the Challenor lecture did you not?  George said you had been to his house and your offer for your newspaper to fund the expedition was a spontaneous one!  Edith had obviously lined you up to be her companion while George was away.  And now you have gone and spoiled it by going too!  Poor Edith!  She will need to find another young man to fulfill her abundant passions!  No handsome young man in London will be safe!”  She laughed as the waiter returned with the Moselle and another served the soup. “Ah, would you be able to bring us some more rolls, please?” she said to the waiter. “Don’t even try to deny it, Edmund!”  So much for her being distracted.

“If what you said had even an element of veracity then it would be a most delicate matter!”  I said, carefully, having tasted the wine.

“Do not worry! I will not mention it to anyone, of course! Even my husband!”  She took a large mouthful of wine as soon as the waiter had poured it.  “Oh my goodness! George is in Liverpool isn’t he?   He telephoned Leon last night!  Are you currently, then, engaged in passionate trysts with Edith!  You said you saw her this morning! Does that mean that you were with her overnight?” I blushed even more.

 “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss your theorem any more!” I said.

“You were!  What a naughty girl!  So after lunch will you be going back to her house to ravish her?”

“She is not in her house!” I said.

“Not an hotel?  Yes!  How delightfully dubious!   How entertainingly sordid!  So as we have lunch she is probably lying on her back, naked, desperately awaiting your return!”

“Mrs Somersby, I think that...” I began, desperately trying to stem the flood of her fervent speculations.

“Oh, I know what she is like!  Her level of passion is palpable.  We have swum naked together on the Isle of Wight.  Once we lay naked on the beach in the sun for some time and dozed and I opened my eyes to find her pleasuring herself quite openly. You do know that women do that, I suppose?  perhaps she has demonstrated it for you."   I blushed again and she grinned.  When she saw that I had seen her she did not stop, as you might expect, but shamelessly continued until she reached her petit mort.  I had never really indulged in that particular activity, as Leon was always there to satisfy me in that way but I admit that from then on I did have the occasional frig.   I still do!  You look shocked, Mr Molloy!”

“You are a very singular lady!” I said, carefully. These older ladies were most surprising! Who would have guessed, when first looking at Mrs Somersby. that she would openly discuss such matters?  I looked around the restaurant to see if anyone might have heard us, as with every glass of wine her voice was getting slightly louder.

“You young men think we older ladies are dried out husks with no concept of passion and the joys of copulation.  I am not dried out at all.  I am still able to get quite moist and appropriately receptive!”  I coughed on some crumbs of bread roll that got caught in my throat. Edna grinned. “Perhaps we should now discuss my thoughts on the expedition or your editor will wonder what on earth we spoke about over this expensive lunch.  Frigging probably not being what he imagined!  Well, as we are both having lamb later, perhaps we should look at the wine list for a suitable red!”

“Indeed!” I said.

After lunch, where she gave me some amusing background on the rivalry between the professors, I bid her goodbye. “Are you off to have Edith, now?  I think I might make a nuisance of myself with Leon when I return home!  I am somewhat aroused.  We will never have been apart so long as for this forthcoming expedition. I will sorely miss his physical presence.  Perhaps I should get an additional man myself, although I am not in possession of Edith’s charms!”

“You are charming in every way, Mrs Somersby, and any man would be lucky to have you as a companion, as is the Professor in having you as his wife!”

“You are very sweet!” she said, kissing me on the lips.  She tasted of the Cognac she had had with her coffee. “Do give my regards to Edith, along with everything else you are giving her!” she said as she climbed, rather unsteadily, into a taxicab.

Women were proving to be far more complicated creatures than I had imagined. And it was a great surprise to me that older women continued to indulge in carnal activity.  I had thought that it might be something they grew out of.  I had a sudden and unpleasant vision of my parents. Surely not? Shuddering, involuntarily, I hefted my portfolio under my arm and proceeded towards Trafalgar Square, Haymarket and thence Piccadilly for my appointment with Lord Hoxton, hoping the walk would clear my head.




“Come in Molloy!  The ladies are awaiting your attentions with great excitement!” said Hoxton, as I stepped into his study once more.  Although the curtains were now open the room was not exactly bright. Albany was a rather dingy place.

 “Ah, where are they?” I said, removing my coat. It was drizzling outside and the cold wet air had, indeed, sobered me up, during my short walk from Charing Cross.

“Through here!” he said indicating a doorway.  I realised that it was the one where the ladies had emerged from yesterday. I  entered and was presented with the sight of a large bedroom. The three women were sprawled on a giant bed, which had the look of the orient about it.  It dominated the room.

“Hello Mr Molloy! We are all ready for you!” said Lady Caroline. All three were completely naked on the bed. Sarah, the youngest sister, had her legs apart and was brazenly displaying her sex. Her sister, Emily, knelt next to her, stroking Sarah’s shoulder while the mother stood up from the bed and approached me, kissing me on the lips.

“I am sorry I am late, ladies!” I said, trying to look at the sumptuous display of flesh in a neutral, objective manner. . “I was interviewing Mrs Somersby for my newspaper.”

“That is quie alright, Edmund! Y our work must come first. We have been resting after a fine lunch at the Cafe Royal!” said Lady Caroline.

“We have been caressing ourselves!” said Sarah, slipping her fingers between her pink petals, deep in her black-thatched mound.

“And each other!” added Emily, stroking one of her sister’s breasts while looking at me, as if to guauge my reaction.

“In fact, this little display by the girls neatly brings us to the subject of the first drawing I would like you to do,” said Hoxton.

“We will pose like this!” said Emily and sat up on the bed. Her sister sat next to her.  They both spread their legs and Sarah put her right thigh over her sister’s left. I took a deep breath.  The atmosphere of female arousal in the room was overpowering.  The only way to deal with the situation was to remain professional and detached.

“Would you mind placing a chair just here Lord Hoxton, while I prepare my things, please?”  He did as I asked and I took out a piece of cream coloured paper and some soft pencils. I sat down, holding my portfolio as an easel, as I had done with Edith.  I set to work immediately, trying, and largely failing, to see these two ripe young bodies as an exercise in draughtsmanship and not a sexually provocative display.  All hope of this disappeared after ten minutes when they moved their arms between each other’s legs and started to caress each other intimately.  “Ladies, please, you must keep still and you must return to your original positions!”  They did as they were told, somewhat sulkily, licking each other’s juices off their fingers before getting back into place.

“Good girls!” said their mother.  “They do enjoy caressing each other, even though it may be seen as a rather unusual thing for two sisters to do!”

“Rather,” I agreed, calmly, without displaying my complete shock at their lascivious behaviour.

“I suppose it is my fault!”continued Lady Caroline. “I taught them how to frig properly several years ago.  We all sat in front of a mirror and did it together.  Of course I had to demonstrate on them myself the correct action, at some points.”

“Of course!” I agreed, drawing the pink parts emerging from Emily’s black curly bush. I had a thought and opened my pencil box.  Inside were a number of Faber-Castell coloured pencils. I gently shaded Emily’s parts, nipples and lips in pink. It made the drawing much more lascivious in nature, which I thought Hoxton would appreciate.  The finished drawing was much admired.

“I love the touch of pink on their important bits, Molloy. Brilliantly done!” said Hoxton.  The girls stood behind me while I drew their mother, who Lord Hoxton positioned carefully on her stomach, propped across some pillows. She too had her legs spread and her sex and anus were clearly visible.

“Oh yes, do draw mummy’s shit hole!” said Sarah.

“Do try and watch your language, dear!” said her mother, slipping her middle finger inside her sex. “I am ready Mr Molloy!” she declared.  I spent several hours drawing all three women, individually or in groups.  They all happily acceded to my request to draw portraits of their intimate parts for my own collection.  Hoxton remarking that it was a capital idea and might form the basis of an exhibition at the Babylon Exploration Society. My final drawing had them sprawled in a post coital looking heap on the bed, limbs entwined, wet sex’s wantonly displayed.  I had got quite used to them pleasuring themselves in front of me during the afternoon.  Perhaps the wine at lunch had me in a more mellow mood than usual.

“This is just excellent work, Molloy. I know a couple of people who would like to commission similar pictures.  Could be a nice supplement to your income, what?”

“I would enjoy that, Lord Hoxton!” I said.

“Right.  Shall we take a sister each and then have some tea?  Don’t have much of a kitchen here but I can run to a cup of Darjeeling and slice of cook’s fruitcake. This room was originally the drawing room and my study was the dining room but I decided I only needed a bedroom and a study come drawing room. Don’t eat here. Always go out, dontchaknow?”

“I’d be happy to take tea with the sisters!” I said.

“Take ‘em first, though! Which one would you like? Sarah is only fifteen, of course, but I won’t tell if you won’t tell!”

“I’m sixteen next month!  I know how to do everything, Mr Molloy!  I won’t be a disappointment!  I’m very juicy!” said Sarah, thrusting her hips forward and cupping her mound.  "And I am very good at gamahuching!"  She looked at my crotch, pointedly.

“On second thoughts, I think I ought to go!” I said, hurriedly packing my pencils into their cedar wood box and tying up my portfolio.

“Please don’t go, Edmund,” said Emily. “Sarah and I can lie next to each other while you and Lord James take us. Then you can change places half way through.  That would be amusing!”

“Yes, indeed,” said Lady Caroline. Come along Edmund!  I do enjoy seeing my lovely girls given a good fucking!”

“Thank you,  ladies, it has been very...interesting. I have left the drawings here,” I said indicating the seat of the chair.

“I’ll let myself out!” Emily, kneeling on the bed had just slipped her hand down inside Hoxton’s black silk pyjama trousers and was patently caressing his manhood.

“Won’t you even stay for tea and fruitcake?  Cook's is splendid.  A nice topping of nuts too!” Hoxton said, as Sarah started to remove his smoking jacket.  I closed the door to his rooms behind me and fled onto Piccadilly.

"Quite enough nuts already,’ I thought.




Thinking it prudent not to be seen having dinner in the hotel I took Edith to Reggiori Brothers splendid restaurant at the end of the Euston Road, just across the road from the Great Northern.

“She actually used the word ‘fucking’?” asked an amused Edith, as we sat having dinner.  I had not used that word myself in describing the afternoon to Edith. I had said that she had used a very vulgar word describing copulation which might be heard in the London Irish changing rooms but never by a lady, even though she, indubitably, was one.

“As clear as day!” I replied, scooping up some potted shrimps.

“And Edna Somersby got drunk and told you of the time she caught me frigging myself on Compton Beach?”

“She did! She also knew perfectly well what my role was as regards you.  I think that perhaps we should stop seeing each other!”

“What a silly idea!  We just have to be a bit careful.  George is back from Liverpool tomorrow afternoon and I will go back to being a dutiful wife but I intend to keep ‘seeing you’ until you leave for South America!  After dinner I will leave you to pay the bill and we will give each other a friendly handshake.  You will have a port and a cigar.  Look, they have around forty cigars to choose from."  She indicated the back of the menu where a selection of Havana cigars were listed.

“I don’t really care for cigars that much.  I only have one if I have to for social reasons!” I said.

“I like the smell of them,” said Edith. “They remind me of my father.  George does not approve of women smoking!”

“Is your father still with us?” I asked.

“Both my mother and father are alive and well. They live in Edinburgh as my mother is Scots and my father is a professor of engineering at the University.  I visit them once or twice a year, without George, and my father always smokes a cigar after dinner while I have a cigarette.”

“You smoke cigarettes?” I asked. She certainly was a modern woman.

“Not very often. Perhaps like your partaking of cigars. An occasional treat. I do not like the smell in my clothes and so sometimes if I am away at my parents’ house I have one in the bath!  Not at home of course. George would have a fit!”

“Not something to engender!” I laughed. I was surprised at Edith admitting to smoking.   I had thought it was something you saw from the prostitutes who prowled the music halls and from market girls but that was it.  Britten had told me it was getting more popular with a certain sort of modern woman.  I imagined a room full of plotting Suffragettes, all puffing away beneath a cloud of smoke as they planned the downfall of men.

“Well, you can sit here for a quarter of an hour or so while I return to the Great Northern and prepare myself for your ardent attention!” she said, rubbing my leg under the table with her calf.

“I look forward to it, as ever,” I said.

 “We will have a night of uncontrollable passion, our naked bodies sliding across each other as we grind, thrust, sweat and spend!” she said, whispering in my ear. “Fucking! All night!”


Chapter notes on this episode can be found here.

Thursday, 13 October 2016

Chapter 9: “The dinosaur chasing journalist!"

The Rope Walk at the Albany, Piccadilly, London


Edmund Molloy, a journalist for The Daily Courier has volunteered to join an expedition to South America to look for prehistoric creatures.  He has been seduced by Edith, the wife of the expedition's leader Professor Challenor.  They have been engaged in a passionate tryst at the Great Northern Hotel.  That evening Molloy has to meet with fellow expedition member Lord Hoxton, at his residence in Piccadilly.


I arrived at the Albany, or just ‘Albany’ as the many distinguished residents tended to call it, at eight thirty. The uniformed doorman took me through the main house and out of the rear of the building along the famous Rope Walk, a covered path which is located between the double frontages of the terraced houses that made up the rest of the Albany. He led me upstairs to where Lord Hoxton’s set, as the apartments there are known, was located on the first floor and knocked on the door himself, so as to ensure that I was not some interloper. 

“Molloy! Do come in old chap! Let me get you a glass of Madeira!” said Hoxton, after thanking the doorman, who touched the brim of his top hat before retiring. Hoxton was casually dressed in a dark red smoking jacket, what looked like black silk pyjama trousers and Turkish looking slippers. I gazed around his drawing room with interest. It was in complete contrast to the chaos of Professor Challenor’s study. Everything was neatly arranged, even though the room contained a great number of objects. There were the inevitable mounted heads of wild animals, reflecting Hoxton’s reputation as a game hunter. Big cats from Africa, gazelles and antelope of many kinds. He explained that his large trophies were down in his house in Hampshire. There were several mounted fish in cases and framed collections of fishing flies, butterflies and beetles on the bottle green striped wallpaper. In one corner a stuffed cobra reared above a bristling mongoose. The lights had green shades too, giving a dim light with most of the illumination coming from a large, crackling fire. One wall was part taken up by a mahogany bookshelf stuffed with gold embossed leather volumes and the occasional small statuette of African provenance. Along the top of a marble chimney-piece was a collection of brass shell cases of different calibres, a bronze sculpture of a wading bird and a brass clock. Above the chimney-piece was a gorgeously luminous nude which was obviously by Renoir. There were several other paintings or drawings of nude women on the walls. Not as extreme as those in the Babylon Exploration Society but rather bolder than would be acceptable in mixed company. One looked like a Boucher or a Fragonard drawing of a voluptuous young girl reclining amidst soft pillows, her plump thighs guiding the eye towards an anatomically accurately rendered pubis. Another, of a girl in a tub, was certainly by Degas. Hoxton was, I knew, fabulously wealthy, so the presence of such art did not surprise me. “Here,” he said, handing me a very large glass of Madeira, “sit down and tell me about yourself!” 

“Thank you,” I said sitting down on his large russet coloured leather sofa. I seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time discussing my life of late, although the version I gave Hoxton emphasised my sporting activity rather more than my artistic. 

“I think you’ll do well, Molloy,” he said, after I had given him a brief account of my life so far, “provided you can take advice. Going up the Amazon is not like taking a skiff up the Thames. Many of the creatures in the region are very nasty if not actually deadly: jaguars, anacondas, electric eels, piranha... Deep in the interior the local tribes are often hostile and equipped with poison tipped arrows or blowpipes. Then there is the fever, the risk of physical injury and such like. And everywhere the cursed, biting insects. The jungle floor is alive with 'em. Still, you look like a robust chap. Done any boxing?” 

“Yes, at school,” I said. 

“Can you swim?” 

“I am a strong swimmer; able to swim more than a mile with little effort.” 

“Excellent. So, what with your rather top level rugger, capped for Ireland I believe this past season, I see you can take the knocks. Do you pick up colds?” 

“What? Oh no! I am lucky to possess robust health, Lord Hoxton!” I replied, conscious that he was conducting an interview far more searching than I had had at the Courier. 

“Hoxton, is enough. Lord James if you want to be friendly!” he said. “Your editor told me, at the museum last night, that you are a fine artist. Are those some of your drawings in that portfolio?” He indicated the folder which I had left by the door. 

“Yes! I mean no!” 

“Can I see them?” 

“They are personal,” I replied. “Private. Of a lady!” I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

“Ah! Those sort of drawings! Well done! As you see,” he waved at the Renoir, “I am something of a collector meself. I really would like to see one!” 

“I have one where the lady’s face is not revealed. I can show you that!” I stood up. 

“Why? Am I likely to know the lady?” he sipped his Madeira and looked wolfish. 

“There is a possibility, however slight, that you may meet her!” I said, carefully flicking through the drawings. I wished I had not left the first, almost innocent, one of Edith from the rear with her in the hotel but I had given it to her and she had packed it in her case. I gingerly extracted the one of Edith sat facing the back of a chair. I hesitated, as not just her sex but her anus were clearly depicted. Her face, however, was not. I handed it to him. 

“Good Lord, Molloy! This is well done indeed! Do I take it that you are intimate with this woman?” 

“We have...an arrangement!” I said. 

“Splendid! You are a proper man and up to the task in hand no doubt! Can’t bear to travel with mealy-mouthed puritans who are squeamish about sex. Always like to add to me tally on these sorts of trips. Don’t want some God-fearing fellow telling me what is and isn’t right. Seems to me if the gel is screaming in delight and flowing like the Nile as you roger her then you can’t be doing anything wrong! Ipso facto! What?” 

“Have you, er, experienced the women of the Anazon jungle before?” I asked. I was expecting to talk to Hoxton about hunting rather than women. 

“Yes, but the gels of Amazonia are not particularly attractive by native standards. Stocky legs, barrel like bodies, not very pleasing faces. Not a patch on your Beja of the Sudan, your Polynesians, your Zulu women, my how they can go at it, and what not. Let alone the lovelies you find in the Levant and sub-continent. Some of the loveliest women in the world in India and many of them are properly trained in the arts of love. Not really natives though, I s’pose. Some of them are close to being civilised people. Still, when they are face down with their arses in the air they all feel the same, what? Just make sure you don’t roger a girl from one of the cannibal tribes. In Brazil I prefer the half chat girls. They can be spectacular but they will be in short supply once we leave Manaós. Had a couple of absolute beauties when I was there last. Sisters! Splendid! Up river a chap has to get it where he can find it. Most of the native girls near the main river will trade it for a few trinkets. Like the old days in the South Seas before all the missionaries wrecked it! Nothing like the first time you introduce a native bint to a good length of white meat. Finest feeling on Earth! Other than watching a fox torn to pieces on your first hunt!”  he took a large swig of his Madeira.

“You obviously have considerably more experience than I do, Lord Hoxton,” I said, the thought occurring that the famous hunter was equally interested in despoiling as many women as shooting creatures. 

“Yes, well. Got to get your score up. What’s yours, old boy?” 

“Score?” I replied. 

“Yes. How many bints have you had?” 

“Well to be honest, I have only had...er, four.” I decided to include Agnes and Madame Nathalie or my 'score' would be rather sorry. 

“Not too bad, old chap. Many have achieved far less. We’ll get you something to play with in Brazil I’m sure! Get you into double figures, what? Perhaps we should both have a tilt at young Miss Blanc? Damn fine looking filly, that, eh? Bit skinny for my taste, though. Like big arses, meself!” 

"I think she is a very beautiful young woman!" I ventured, meaning it.

"I say!  Here's a bit of fun!  Let's have a small wager on her. what?"

"A wager?  In what way?" I asked.

"Nothing complicated. Are you on for it?" he looked at me.  He seemed to want me to agree before agreeing the stakes.  I was worried he might propose something outrageous like five pounds.  He was looking at me carefully and I suspected that this might be another Hoxton test. Given that his skills might well be responsible for keeping me alive in the adventure ahead I decided to agree to his proposal. 

"I will take your wager, even though I do not know the object or the stakes!" I smiled and tried to look confident and like a man of the world.

"Good man!  First class!" He looked delighted and poured us both some more Madeira."Well the object of the wager is obvious!  First one to roger Mademoiselle Blanc wins!"

"Roger?" 

"Yes!  Roger!  Fuck, if you prefer!"

"It may be a difficult objective!" I said, remembering how she had cut Professor Challenor down to size at his lecture.

"That's what makes it a challenge, what?  I rate my odds about fifty fifty.  Yours a bit better!"

Really?" I said, surprised.

"Youth on your side!  Closer to her age and what have you!  Now to win there has to be pretty good evidence that the deed has taken place and, better still, a confession from the lady in question.  As to stakes.  If I win I want a drawing of your lady friend in any pose I choose!"

"Oh!  Alright!" I said, so surprised that he wasn't suggesting a large financial wager that I didn't think about how I might persuade Edith to pose in order to pay off a bet because Lord Hoxton had won a wager as to who could have Marguerite Blanc first.  She might be amused, I hope.  "And if I win?"

"Well, I've been watching you admiring me Boucher drawing, so you can have that!"

"What?" It must be worth a small fortune, I mused.

"I have just acquired another of a girl with her plump arse in the air, which is more to me taste than that one.  Rumours are that they are both of Boucher's wife.  He got her to pose provocatively and sold the drawings off to private collectors.  What a top chap!"  He stood up and we shook hands on the wager and he toasted me as well.

"Good luck Molloy!  And may the best man plunge his way up Mademoiselle Blanc's hot, dripping cunny!"

"Indeed!" I said, wondering what she would say if she knew what we were discussing.

"As I said, I think you have a fair chance at her!"

“I am already finding that a certain type of young woman is attracted to me because of my minor fame in being part of this expedition!” I added. 

“Ah, there you go! Make the most of them! I intend to spend the two weeks before our departure fucking every piece I can! Fortunately me forthcoming birthday party gives me ample opportunity to score dozens of cunnies and arseholes too. Who knows, we may have all been eaten by dinosaurs in six months time!” 

“I will hope that you will protect me from that, Lord Hoxton!” I said, surprised at his strong language although he had been in the army, I knew, in Afghanistan over thirty years previously. 

“Do me best, old chap! But you’ll need a good gun yourself. I’ll sort you one out shortly.” he smiled. “Anyway, back to your lady with the enticing arse. Every woman I meet from now on I will wonder if she is your splendidly built popsy!” He laughed and stood up. “I would like to commission you to do some similar drawings of some of me lady friends. Would you be up for that, eh? I’ll pay you ten guineas a drawing! Lots of artists can turn out a nude but not many can so lovingly reproduce the details of the pudenda and anus! I do enjoy a nice tight arsehole, what?” 

“I would be happy to do so!” I said. Ten guineas a drawing! 

“Excellent! Now, need to fit you out with a gun. Wait here while I get one. I have just the thing in mind! Have some more Madeira! I’ll be a few minutes as I think it is somewhat buried under some trunks! Here look at this list,” he handed me a piece of paper with neat writing upon it. “I’ve listed pretty much everything you will need and where to get it. Army & Navy is your best place!” 

He left the room. I looked at the list and it did seem helpfully comprehensive. I folded it and put it in my jacket pocket. I stood up and poured myself another glass of Madeira. I stood in front of the fire and looked at the Renoir, closely. I wondered about attempting a painting of Edith. 

“James, what are you up to? Come back to bed!” I jumped, nearly spilling my Madeira as I turned around, looking in the direction from which the deep, sultry voice had come. I saw a handsome black haired woman. in her late thirties or early forties. emerging from a doorway. She was dressed in a man’s white shirt, black stockings with red garters and, it appeared, nothing else. The shirt was undone apart from the middle button revealing the enticing slopes of a magnificent bosom. I recognised her instantly as Hoxton’s companion from the museum lecture, Lady Caroline, a prominent socialite widow about town who hosted a salon, in the old Parisian fashion. She is a subscriber to this edition so I have ensured that my account regarding her has her approval and I am grateful for her recollections of subsequent events. “Oh! Hello, young man! And who might you be? Wait! Of course! The dinosaur chasing journalist! I am sure that I recognise you from elsewhere, however! Ah, I have it! You are the well know rugby player Mr…forgive me…” 

“Molloy. Edmund Molloy!” I said holding out my hand. She squeezed it gently and I was aware of a strong musky scent from her body. Had she just been...? 

“Of course! I think we have even spoken before, I believe. At Twickenham, wasn’t it?” 

“Your powers of recall are remarkable, Lady Caroline,” I said. She smiled at my remembering her name. I did now recall our meeting, when she had attempted to get into our dressing room, somewhat the worse for Champagne. 

“I never forget a nice pair of legs Mr Molloy!” she replied, dropping on to the arm of one of Hoxton’s red leather armchairs. She crossed her own legs and displayed her elegant limbs, including an enticing slice of naked upper thigh. 

“It is an appreciation I share, your ladyship,” I said, smiling. 

“Mr Molloy! Are you flirting with me?” she smiled back. 

“Of course not!” I stammered. I looked at her again and she was still smiling and bouncing her elegant bestockinged foot at me. She raised an elegant eyebrow. 

 “Well, perhaps a little,” I admitted. 

“Splendid! Ah James!” she said as Hoxton returned to the room carrying a gun case. “Your delightful guest is flirting with me in your absence!” 

“Is he now?” said Hoxton, placing the case on the coffee table and opening the catches. “I do like a brave man! Now, speaking of brave, do you have any experience of shooting, Molloy?” He lifted the lid on the box and took out a rifle. 

“Some rabbit hunting back in Ireland,” I said. “But I was never a very good shot!” 

“Well, if Professor Challenor is correct our targets will be rather larger than rabbits, what?” He handed me the rifle. “Winchester 94 lever action six shot thirty-thirty. Easy to use, light and reliable. Good hunting rifle and ideal for someone like yourself with limited experience. You can have this one as a gift, as I own several.” I turned it over in my hands, nervously. It was rather more potent than the Lincoln Jeffries air rifle I had used on rabbits at home. 

“You boys and your guns!” declared Lady Caroline. “I am feeling quite ignored! You can discuss dinosaur hunting another time! Now how about we get Mr Molloy to take his clothes off and join us in bed? Let’s see what his own armament is like!” 

“Oh mama what a splendid idea!” came another feminine voice. I turned towards the door, to what I assumed was Hoxton’s bedroom, and was shocked to see a girl wearing just a thigh length chemise and black stockings. Her naked upper thighs were revealed so she was obviously not wearing drawers either. She would have looked quite at home, dressed in such a manner, in the private rooms of the Babylon Exploration Society. 

“Honestly Emily, look at you disporting yourself in front of a man you haven’t even been introduced to properly!” said Lady Caroline. 

“Well, mama, you should introduce me! But I know who he is from last night!” said the girl crossing the floor and displaying no sense of embarrassment whatsoever. She had the same coal black hair as her mother. 

“Mr Edmund Molloy, may I present my eldest daughter, Emily. She has been receiving instruction from Lord Hoxton today,” said Lady Caroline. I wondered what the nature of that instruction might be but I think I knew only too well. I pride myself on the fact that I managed to deal with this extraordinary situation with some sang froid

“Enchanted, Miss Emily!” I said taking her offered hand. 

“Goodness me, Mr Molloy, you really are rather fine!” said Emily, smiling at me. 

“I would agree with that assessment entirely!” said another voice. I saw that another lovely girl had stepped into the room; this one wearing just a chemise with no stockings. She stepped up to Emily and put her arm around her waist. “I am Sarah, Emily’s sister!” I took her hand too. 

“Doubly enchanted!” I said. 

“My younger sister, I should add,” said Emily. The two were almost identical, although Emily had about two inches in height on her younger sibling. Sarah was slimmer and her bosom looked smaller than Emily’s, which appeared to have the same impressive proportions as her mother. I was not certain of their ages but under twenty I would have guessed.

“I was just suggesting that Mr Molloy, who is a well-known rugby player and extremely fit, should join us in bed, Emily. I am sure James will agree. After all he cannot really service three of us properly on his own!” 

“I thought I had been making a good show of it!” smiled Hoxton, sitting down in the chair Lady Caroline was perched upon the arm of. 

 “Indeed, as ever! But the girls need a little more ploughing I think! 

 “I’d like to be ploughed by Mr Molloy! Right this minute!” said Sarah. 

“Unfortunately, lovely as you all are!” I said. “I have my own lady friend waiting for me at an hotel!"
  
“Telephone the hotel! Invite her over here! Six is a much more symmetrical figure than five! You can take Sarah, James can take Emily and I can see if your lady has any Sapphic interest! What fun that would be! Then we can all change partners! It will be like one of your birthday parties, James! I am so looking forward to that! You should invite Mr Molloy!” 

“Indeed,” said Hoxton, smiling and stroking Lady Caroline’s hip under her shirt. 

 “Oh please stay!” said Sarah, squeezing one of her cotton-clad breasts invitingly. 

“I would like nothing more in all the world!” I said, truthfully. “But I cannot disappoint my lady. We have very little opportunity to be together and she is shy and would be intimidated by such beauties!” I stood up, trying to hide my erection behind the back of a chair. “Well said, Molloy. Look after your lady! I am sure I can handle these wildcats tonight!” said Hoxton. “Oh, ladies, Molloy is a fine artist and I have just engaged him to make some drawings of you. Show ‘em the one you showed me!” 

“Really?” I asked, hesitating. 

“Yes! It is in exactly the style that I would like of these three!” 

“Oh! Very well!” I opened my portfolio and pulled out the picture of Mrs Challenor with her bottom on display once more. 

“That is excellent, Mr Molloy! This is your lady?” asked Lady Caroline, showing the picture to her daughters. I nodded. 

“She has a very inviting fundament!” said Emily. “I should enjoy sliding my finger into it!” 

“I suspect that she would enjoy that too!” I said, thinking about her penetrating her own rectum the day before. 

“Do get her to come over!” urged Sarah. “We can lick her bottom hole together!” She put her arm around her sister. 

“I cannot, alas! I really must leave!"  I started to edge towards the door. 

"Take the Winchester!” said Hoxton, handing me the case, which fortunately had a canvas shoulder strap. “Come again tomorrow afternoon for some drawing! About three!” 

“Yes, do come!” said Sarah. 

“We intend to!” laughed Emily. 

“I will do so!” I said, not really knowing what I was letting myself in for. 

“Your lady is welcome too, of course. Is it the pretty blonde I met at the museum?” asked Hoxton. “Agnes.” 

“No. She is a friend only,” I said. 

“Excellent!” said Hoxton. When I eventually found my way onto the pavement in bustling Piccadilly once more, I stopped and took a deep breath. My mammy was right. London must be the centre of all sin of the world, as she had always maintained and I was thoroughly enjoying the fact! 




 I took the Number 14 from Piccadilly to King’s Cross and when I arrived at the Great Northern Hotel it was rather later than I had intended. I knocked on the door and heard Edith bid me enter. I closed the door behind me, dropping the heavy gun case on the floor next to my portfolio. 

“Perfect timing, Edmund, I was just about to take a bath. Do come and join me!” she was dressed in a long towelling bath robe. She had me strip naked and put on another bathrobe, handed me a towel and we stepped out into the corridor. She locked the door and we headed down it to where the bathrooms were. We looked up and down the corridor once more and, giggling like naughty schoolchildren, darted inside the bathroom and bolted the door. I turned on the taps. Edith removed her robe to reveal her naked form and I removed my robe too, wondering at the intimate familiarity with each other which we had gained so very quickly. 

“I am sorry to be so late. How was your evening?” I asked. 

“Well, I went out and had tea with my friend Mabel, our alibi, which then turned into dinner. I may have had a little too much wine!” she giggled. “I telephoned George who really had very little time for me. He was off to Liverpool to meet the Booth shipping line and discuss arrangements for transporting the expedition. He will be away for two days. We could extend our illicit stay here, although given your increasing fame perhaps that may have some risk. Taking breakfast together tomorrow would probably not be wise, for example! How about you? Have you been approached by any more panting young ladies!” I laughed and described my visit to Lord Hoxton and the attention of his three lady friends. “And you were not tempted by the prospect of a mother and daughters! I would have thought that a fine prize for any lusty man about town!” she said as we climbed into the bathtub together. 

“Well, I don’t really regard myself as a lusty man about town, as you put it. Any success with the fairer sex is a rather unexpected product of the last few days, really. And, anyway, who would bother with them when I have you waiting for me!” 

“How very sweet! I very much see you as my lusty man about town, however!” she said rubbing her toes between my manhood and ballocks. Her attention meant that I did not remain flaccid for long. “You do respond so engagingly quickly, Edmund. Look at your lovely cock all stiff and throbbing! On which subject I have come to something of an epiphany this afternoon while discussing you with my friend, Mabel!” She started to rub my length between the soles of both feet which, I thought, must take some delicate muscular control. 

“Have you ever taken dance classes, Edith?” I asked, watching her leg muscles flex as her dainty feet massaged my manhood. 

“When I was a girl I did some dance. Can you tell?” 

“Once, just once, we had a pretty girl to draw in life classes and she had been a dancer at the music hall. She started in ballet, I believe. Like you, she had toned legs, a particular poise and a grace of movement which are not common!” I ventured. 

“Hah! That would be down to Madame LeClerc my French teacher at school. She also was the dance teacher and maintained that English women were like clumsy hippopotami compared with French women in matters of deportment. When she arrived at my school she made all us girls walk up and down the school hall, correcting our stance. She carried a riding whip and would use it to demonstrate our errors. “Chin up, shoulders back, chest out, posterior in!” she would cry. Many was the time I received a firm whack across my bottom because it supposedly protruded too far! I tried to explain that that was just the way I was built!” 

“You do have a particularly fine posterior,” I said. 

“Thank you! I do think it is the one part of me that George appreciates. He invariably takes me from behind, like a mare! Something I respond to, I should add. He is rather like a horse in his approach. He just jams his cock up me and starts thrusting away. Goodness I do enjoy saying ‘cock’! That is partly Mabel’s fault. Such a dirty mouth! She served as a nurse with the British Red Cross Society in the South African War. She has taught me many colourful terms over the years. If anyone had heard our conversation this evening they would have taken us for a pair Spitalfields doxies!” 

“I’d like to meet her!” I said. 

“I am sure you would although at present I would not let her anywhere near you as she would be dropping her drawers for you within a few hours, I suspect!” laughed Edith. “She is a widow of around my age and saucy as Hell!” We chatted and washed each other. “Good God, Edmund I really do think I need your cock!” she said as she stroked it. 

 “I think you have it!” I said as she gripped me firmly and began to frig me. 

“No. I want it inside me! Take me now! Rut with me!  I make only one condition,” she said standing up in the bath, water cascading off her trim body, “that you avoid the dog position. That I reserve for George. It keeps these physical relationships separate from my married life!” 

“Of course, but I thought that we were not going to engage in actual…you know!” I said.  "That was the agreement, was it not?” I had noticed that she had said ‘these relationships’. 

 “Those were my terms which I am free to modify! Look, we were so very close to actual copulation earlier and the purpose of this arrangement is for you to serve my pleasure. The issue is not one of the level of physical intimacy, it was and is, that of emotional intimacy. I had concerns that you might become some lovesick puppy dog and start demanding precedence over my husband who, I repeat, I love very much. But given your now palpable appeal to others of the opposite sex I am fairly certain that you will take this opportunity for what it is and not create any difficulties for me or my husband. That has been my epiphany today. And you may thank my friend Mabel for it! We discussed you at length. In fact, we discussed your length at length! So now, to use Mabel’s delightfully frank term, I want to screw you!” 

 And screw we did, in something of a frantic coupling. She had me lie down on my back on the bathroom tiles (that provided an initial shock, I can tell you!) and mounted me forthwith. There was no initial kissing or caressing. No stroking or fondling. She held my cock up vertically, sat down upon it and started to bounce up and down on me. I could not resist squeezing her breasts however and she smiled at me throughout the procedure. 

"Edith!" I cried, overcome by her passion as I watched, fascinated, my slick manhood disappear and remerge from her hot core. 

“Ride a cock horse!” she said, increasing the speed of her movements. She was going at it so violently that I popped out of her but she immediately stuffed me back inside and resumed. After only a short time I was starting to get close and realised it might be difficult to pull out before the vital moment, given that she was on top. 

“Edith, I need to withdraw!” I said. 

“No!” she gasped. Britten had informed me that there were women who pretended to be barren so they could become pregnant and extract money or even marriage from the man. Given Edith’s personal situation I thought this unlikely but still... I took my hands off her breasts, intending to gently push her off me. 

 “Christ, Christ, Christ!” said Edith, her unfettered bosoms now bouncing around outrageously. That sight was just so arousing that I realised it was too late and I was spurting, for the first time, deep inside a woman. 

"I can feel it!" she cried.  She kept bouncing away but her movements became slower and eventually she stopped moving, her chest heaving, her body pink and covered in perspiration.  She looked at me, smiling. 

 “I’m sorry, Edith,” I said. “I spent rather quickly. It was just so overwhelming. Next time I will ensure that you also reach your climax!” 

“You silly boy! I came twice!” She laughed as I lay there on the cold tiles, my deflating cock still lodged inside her soft wetness.


Notes on this chapter can be found here.