Clare now moved up over me and, still keeping her fingers embedded in my cunt, kissed me passionately on the mouth. Her velvet tongue slithered between my lips to make contact as her fingers plunged in and out of my juicy cunney. Oh, it was such blissful agony!
The clever little minx then left off her manual stimulation and replaced her fingers with her tongue as she grasped my bum cheeks, one in each hand, and buried her face in my pussey, her mouth pressed against the soft, yielding flesh, probing my slit gently with her tongue. Soon we were entwined together in a soixante neuf. Her head was firmly ensconced between my thighs whilst my own tongue licked and lapped around her sweet snatch. My mouth was now glued to her dripping slit and I rolled and flicked my tongue across her delicious pussey, sucking and nipping at the tender clitty in much the same way as she was working at me. We sighed and groaned together as we lay side by side with our heads deep between each other's legs.
I was tonguing deep inside her beautiful cunney and her juices were flowing freely and her clitty was quite enormous with excitement. I nipped her clitty again, playfully sucking and biting it as she in turn sucked up the love juice pouring from my own pussey, licking and lapping with a great ardour. 'Ooooh! That is delightful!' I panted. 'Now please pull on my clitty and make me spend!' The gorgeous girl wrenched her mouth from my sopping muff and replaced it for a second session with her long, tapering fingers. Immediately, she found my swollen love-button and stroked it expertly. Before my body began thrashing wildly about in a frenzied ecstasy as she slid a finger into my bottom-hole. I thought my body would fairly explode as spasms of excitement ran through my body, culminating in a gigantic peak of orgasmic lust. 'Now it is my turn to spend, darling,' she said, writhing delightfully as I pushed my mouth hard up against her, moving my entire head back and forth. I nuzzled my lips between her swollen cunney lips that were oozing love juice and I sucked upon her hard little clitty, flicking my fluttering tongue in and out of her lovely little hairy quim, sucking and slurping the juices from her cunt, filling the night air with the scent of raw sex. I could feel Clare's orgasm build inside her and I worked my tongue even harder, whilst at the same time inserting my forefinger into her sopping muff, deeper and deeper, until she screamed with delight as she spent copiously in waves of pure energy that coursed through her body.
We lay panting with exhaustion, but suddenly I heard the sound of heavy breathing just behind us. I turned my head, Doctor Jonathan, and perhaps you and readers of The Oyster will divine the sight that met my eyes. There, just ten yards from us stood young Adam Bucknall, nephew of the infamous Sir William, his trousers down by his ankles and his erect shaft cupped in his right hand, playing with himself, capping and uncapping the knob of his stalwart staff. 'Don't mind me, you two, just carry on!' he muttered as he rubbed away furiously at his thick prick. Well, it seemed like a terrible waste to let that fat cock spunk into his hand, so I called out to Adam that he should join us as soon as he had divested himself of his remaining clothes.
With commendable alacrity he shed the offending garments, and in a most gentlemanly way he asked me if I would consent to be bum-fucked as he had a great fancy for such action. 'Oh, Adam,' I faltered.
'I have never had a prick up my bottom before. I hope you wilt not hurt me.' 'Have no fear, Georgina, the bottom-hole can be a most delightful channel of bliss and it will open up your senses to a ravishment of which you have hither had no conception. Besides, you won't get a swollen belly from being fucked in the bum and you can truthfully tell your current beau that you are saving your pussey solely for him!' he said cheerfully, bending down by the stream to wet his stiff cock with water. I lay down as instructed on my elbows with my bottom cheeks firmly pushed out, and he angled my legs further apart to afford himself a better view of my wrinkled little rosette.
But despite his promise, it felt uncomfortable when the crown of his thick prick entered the tightened orifice. 'Ow! Ow! I don't think this is much fun,' I gasped. But Adam pushed on and the sphincter muscle gradually relaxed and I began to enjoy the delightful frigging of my cunney as he drew his arms round me, pushing gently but firmly with his cock so that, as Adam had forecast, the initial pain gave way to a most extraordinary and pleasurable sensation as his movements stirred me up to the very highest pitch of excitement. His cock throbbed and bounced inside my tight sheath as if spring-loaded and it now plunged in easily to and fro, pumping away like an engine. I reached back and spread my cheeks even further, and my bum jerked in time with Adam's rhythm until he exploded into me in a rush of liquid fire as we spent almost together in perfect accord. He withdrew his still stiff weapon with an audible 'pop' leaving my puckered nether-hole well-lathered for the first time in its life. 'I think there is still some life there,' said Clare thoughtfully, taking Adam's cock in her hands and rubbing up the shaft till it stood up as proudly as before. 'It looks good enough to eat, don't you think?' It certainly did and Clare and I knelt down naked in front of this magnificent prick, taking turns to lick the shaft, and then Clare gobbled the knob and two inches or so of the shaft greedily into her mouth and began to suck lustily upon it. I kissed and licked around his pulsating ballsack.
Then we swapped places and I licked and lapped at the pink knob, savouring the salty sensuality of its taste. He thrust his slippery prick deeper into my mouth as I helped him by sliding my lips as far down the shaft as possible, feeling his wiry pubic hair tickling my nose as I inhaled its perspiring fragrance. He spent very quickly and I swallowed his spunk in great gulps, pulling him hard into my mouth as he delivered the contents of his big balls deep in my throat. I sucked on his cock until the last drops had been milked and his member began to shrink back to its normal size. Now, Doctor, my question is this: am I really a tribade manque for allowing myself to take part in two-girl sexual activity with Clare, and do you think I was wrong to let young Adam stick his prick up my bum? And indeed, do you feel it was wrong for Clare and I to share the sucking off of his lovely penis? I await your comments with great interest, Your obedient servant, Georgina Cambridge c/o Rotherwick Lodge Luton, Bedfordshire May, 1890
DR JONATHAN REPLIES:
No, I do not believe that a single enjoyable sexual experience with a member of your own sex makes you a tribade! And certainly, I would be the first to suggest that whilst the good old-fashioned man-on-top method of fucking is the most widely practised, many couples prefer very different and indeed strange ways of achieving satisfaction. My old friend Sir Graham Giddens prefers to keep his hat on in bed, whilst one of the most sophisticated young men about town, Monsieur Max Dalmine of Bordeaux, never fails to anoint his prick with champagne before attempting an anal insertion. So do not worry simply because you enjoyed a sexual experience away from the established mainstream. I have always maintained that the whole experience of sex is greater than the sum of its parts, though every part has its pleasure and every pleasure its part. In normal love play, anything can happen-and usually does sooner or later.
Dear Doctor Jonathan, I am sixteen years old and am currently in the Lower Sixth Form at Reverend Dunton-Green's Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk in Kent. The school is run on liberal principles but there is an appalling dearth of female company. The only women on the School premises are Matron, Cook and a handful of maids. The strange, unnatural separation of the sexes leads to some pretty rum behaviour, as you may well imagine, and it is rumoured that the captain of cricket has buggered more than half the boys of Form 3C. However, though we are forced to turn to copies of The Oyster and other such splendid magazines for our edification and stimulation during our nightly five-finger exercises, it is common knowledge that wanking is but a poor substitute for the genuine article of fucking. This sets the scene for my narrative, Doctor, which began last Thursday afternoon. We were playing Charterhouse at football and we beat them, I am glad to report, by three goals to two. I shall scorn false modesty and relate that I scored two of the goals. After the game we repaired to the wash-house but, alas, the plumbing, which had given trouble last winter, obstinately refused to deliver more than a trickle of water. So instead we used the facilities in the school itself and, being a sub-prefect, I enjoyed the luxury of my own bathroom which adjoins my study. I filled the bath with lashings of hot water and after stripping off, plunged myself into the warmth.