“It was at the intersection of this street and Willowbrook, which should be about six blocks behind us. The man was on horse. He rode fast. He seemed to be fleeing from something or somebody.”
His heavy brows rose. I could imagine him naked behind his wife's fair buttocks, his cock in her asshole, his big hands gripping her small waist just above her hips as he delivered his semen into her rectum.
My prick started to erect. Would there be any way to sneak back and again plant my knob in the fair cunt of the lovely Lady Haversock? Discretion told me that was impossible, but my erection still lingered.
“What makes you think he was in flight?” Lord Haversock asked.
“He rode with all speed possible. And he was buttoning his shirt as he passed in front of my carriage. He seemed to be dressing in the saddle, if such a thing were possible.”
“Ah, so I see, m'lord. By now he would be far gone, would he not?”
“He would indeed be, Lord Haversock. Evidently he is the man you look for. May I ask why, at this hour of the morning, you seek him?”
“You may ask and be damned, but I won't answer!”
And then his lordship stepped hard into his carriage and the driver rolled his rig away, leaving me standing in the street with my whip still in hand, my teams breathing heavily behind me, my heart again steady and my mind already running ahead to the question: How and where would I again bed down the fair Lady Haversock and claim her maidenhead?
I would somehow get in contact with her soon. Or would she send for me? Time would tell. I climbed to the box of my hansom, realizing that I had a very fierce erection.
My cock called for a cunt around it, hairy and soft and warm, my testicles resting against a fair female asshole. I drove hurriedly home. I aroused my groom who took my sweaty horses.
“Where is your driver, m'lord?”
“I don't know. He ran away. Bandits attacked us in Charing Cross Lane.”
“You escaped unhurt, m'lord?”
“Yes, but no thanks to my driver. If he comes back tell him that if he stays I will kill him.”
“That I shall, m'lord. He deserves death for deserting his master. But I fear you'll not see him again on these premises.”
I stalked to the house, my erection pushing against my trousers, the lust for a female pounding me. I stopped within the door, one hand inside my trousers fondling my penis.
It had been a foul night for a cocksman. I had had my bulb pushing against a maidenhead and had been cheated of breaking the veil, in addition to almost being shot and killed.
But my uncle had said there would be such days. He also had encountered such tragedies, as he joyfully and jokingly called them.
But the fair Lady Haversock still lived, I guessed, and that was what counted, for she as a person didn't count but she, as a cunt, did definitely amount to something to me.
But she was in her estate and I was here in the dark holding my prick, and my big bed was empty. Or was it?
I hurried to my bedroom. I stopped just inside the door, sniffing the air. I have my uncle's nose for cunt, but this room held none. I rang the bell.
Soon the little maid arrived carrying a taper, her long white nightgown hiding her curves and splendid buttocks.
“You rang, m'lord.”
“Yes, I desire a woman for my bed.”
She looked at me over the flickering candle, completely awake now. “This is unusual, m'lord, that you return at this hour of the night-no, morning-and your penis is in need of a hair collar.”
“Watch your tongue, bitch!” Once you put your manhood in them, they think they own a part of you. The best thing is to always remain the master and never give them an inch for they will then take the proverbial mile. “Where is the new girl-the one who came two days ago to work in my kitchen.”
“She is indisposed, m'lord, with the flowings.”
“And my cook?”
I suddenly wanted my cook. She's a big woman with huge full breasts and rather wide buttocks. Her cunt is rather large, though, but she is comfortable for I like to hit them hard at times and her ass, solid and big, could take the hard punishment of my hips, smashing down and rising as I neared my climax.
“The cook is not on premises, m'lord. She had a day of rest today-or rather, yesterday, now-and will report in this coming forenoon, m'lord, and by that time your erection will have fallen, is not that the truth?”
“Where is Grace?” Grace is my pantry girl. I took her only when I was hard in need, I could have taken this winsome lass before me, you know, but I wanted to play hard to compromise, for some reason.
“Grace had yesterday free, too-and she is with the cook.”
There were no more women on the estate. I said, “Come along then, whore, and take my cock,” and I put an arm around her waist, feeling her firmness under the loose nightgown.
“You take me as last resort,” she said poutingly. “I do not have to bed with you, m'lord.”
My hand was over her crack. I pulled up her gown with my other hand. Then I faced her and cupped her fair buttocks and pulled up on them, spreading her crack to allow my right forefinger to draw a ring around her asshole.
She trembled under passion. I felt her nipples grow suddenly hard, a sure sign she needed-and begged-for the cock.
Her left arm went around my neck. She rose on bare tiptoes to my lips, and I noticed, then, that her right hand had my trousers open. My erected prick stuck out. Carefully, she skinned back and forth my foreskin, tantalizing my cock, making my testicles ready and willing.
“Oh, what a lovely prick,” she murmured.
We broke our lips then and began the happy march to my bed, my forefinger deep in her anus, which is what she liked. I bent my forefinger, doubling it in the ring of her asshole, and she hammered my chest with joy as I sank on my back on the bed for her to undress me.
Oh and ah, the simple joys of simple fucking, my loves!
I now create Episode Eight
Each person-male or female-seeks his highest enjoyment while in the act of copulation, therefore some males love to puncture the assholes and mouths of other males-a point our bastardly king frowns on for the public but enjoys himself in private, so rumor says.
Sometimes two females go into the six and nine, their tongues seeking the cunts or assholes of the other, and thus they roll and have orgasms and break wind, locked in obscenity-to use the word of our bastardly queen, who is worse in ignorance than our bastardly king, if such is possible.
I have related how the little maid and I cavort in bed, mentioning that we first went at each other in normal fashion with me on top in the saddle and with her lying on her back, legs reared and spread with me inside her tender thighs, my huge penis lancing in and out of her happy vagina.
I have recorded-in my feeble way-how I would get behind her as she knelt naked on all fours, and how my prick would enter either her anus or vagina, said choice depending upon our whims of the moment and the nearness of our jar of lubricant, for her asshole is very, very tight as I have stated.
(For cunt and asshole lubricant a cocksman should employ the best brand of South African or Scottish sheep grease. The most satisfactory penis lubricant comes from the rendering of the fat of a fat sheep's fat tail.)
Then, if passion and circumstances demanded, she and I would go into the lesbian position, the six and the nine, with my cock sliding in and out of her sweet red-lipped mouth and my tongue ladling her dulcet cum from her throbbing cunt.
But we both like variety and this morning she mounted me as I lay naked on my bed, my penis jabbing upward at the customary angle, and with her also in the nude-and she is, indeed, a lovely prick-raising vision while undressed, as I have already tried to describe in my limited command of English, my native tongue.