Suddenly her cunney muscles tightened about me in a long, rippling seizure that ran from the base to the very root of my cock. Three times more this clutching spasm travelled the entire length of my shaft and then just as Sally screamed out: 'Yes, Yes, Yes! I've come, I've come! Now shoot your spunk, young Rupert!' in a near-delirium, grinding her pussey against me as the frothy jism forced its way out of my knob, hot and seething into every nook and cranny of her cunt.
As we slowly subsided, panting and near collapse, we lay entwined in an intimate jumble of bare flesh. Though I could hear a series of rapid knocks on the door (thank goodness Sally had locked it!), a warm wave of fatigue washed over me and I just could not bring myself to even answer the insistent unknown caller. Fortunately Frank was still compos mentis and I could not help smiling as he heaved himself out of his chair and padded naked across to the door, stiff frigging his stiff cock which was raised as high as a flagpole against his tummy. 'Who's there?' he asked. 'It's Goldhill, sir,' came the voice of our old butler. 'I'm sorry to disturb you but I have a message to give to Master Rupert from his father.' Even at the early age of fifteen and a half, Frank was one of the most quick-witted chaps I have ever known. With only a brief pause, itself covered by a clearing of his throat, he replied: 'Ah, well, Goldhill, I'm afraid Rupert's just fallen asleep and I don't really want to disturb him which is why I locked the door. You see, he was complaining about having a slight headache and hopefully he'll sleep it off.'
'I distinctly thought I heard noises corning from the library.'
'So you did,' said Frank. 'Rupert was talking in his sleep and I think he must have been having a nightmare! Is the matter of great urgency or can you come back in ten minutes?' So thanks to Frank's fast-thinking we had time to dress ourselves and for Sally to sneak out of the library, undetected by Goldhill or any of the other servants. When Goldhill made his second appearance ten minutes later as requested, I made a great show of yawning and stretching out my arms. 'Frank has told me that you have a message from Papa,' I said.
'I hope that it wasn't too urgent as I had a beastly pri- I mean, headache and needed forty winks. But I'm all right now, thank goodness,' I added though I noticed that this had not prevented the butler from shooting me a suspicious look. 'Yes, Master Frank told me about it. I am glad you have recovered so quickly. The Colonel and Mrs. Mountjoy are attending the annual general meeting of the Yorkshire Society For The Promotion Of Science in Harrogate and they have asked me to tell you that they are expecting a visitor to arrive here early this afternoon. On their behalf, they ask you to extend every hospitality to this gentleman as your parents do not expect to return until about half past three as they are taking luncheon today with Lord and Lady Beasant in Bilton. Our new guest, who will be staying here for a few days, is a Mr. Frederick Nolan, an American gentleman from California. You may be interested to know, Master Rupert, that Mr. Nolan will be bringing with him one of these new-fangled cinematographs. If you know what I mean, sir, these are the machines that take moving pictures.' 'Moving pictures,' echoed Frank. 'Well, what a coincidence! I was reading about them in the Manchester Guardian only this morning. Is this Mr. Nolan going to give us an exhibition of his work?' 'Yes, sir,' intoned Goldhill.
'Indeed it was Mr. Nolan who wrote the article you read in the newspaper. He is in Yorkshire to make a film on the Dales which he intends to show to audiences in America.' 'Wow, perhaps we can be in it?' said Frank excitedly. 'Wouldn't that be great?' 'I doubt it as the sight of your face would crack the camera lens!' I replied with a laugh. 'Ha, ha, ha-well, you can laugh but I'm jolly well going to ask him if I can help in any way,' responded my chum.
'Goldhill, is there anything we must prepare for Mr. Nolan's arrival?'
'No, sir,' said the butler. I will be sure to let you both know when Mr. Nolan arrives.' Goldhill did not have to carry out this task, for we were so keen to meet Mr. Nolan that we bolted through luncheon and when the doorbell rang just after two o'clock Frank and I raced to the front door to welcome our American guest in style. I opened the door to a handsome gentleman in the prime of life, perhaps a mite shorter in height than the average, dressed in a snappy summer suit and carrying a silver topped walking stick. 'Good afternoon, sir.
You must be Mr. Nolan, the cinematographer. Welcome to Albion Towers.'
That's right, young man, Fred Nolan at your service, all the way from the USA. And who may you be?' 'I'm Rupert Mountjoy, sir, the Colonel's son. And this is my friend, Frank Folkestone.' 'Glad to meet you, Frank,' said the genial stranger, beckoning to his driver to unload the cart which contained his luggage and two large chests which no doubt contained all his cinematographic equipment. 'I'll have someone bring in all your cases, sir,' I said. 'Well, thank you, my boy, but I'll supervise the operation, if you don't mind. My cameras must be handled very carefully.' After we had helped Mr.
Nolan to settle in, he gratefully accepted the offer of some refreshment. Goldhill brought in a large whisky and soda and Mrs.
Randall provided a platter of cold roast beef sandwiches and a pot of hot black coffee. I apologised for my parents' absence but Mr. Nolan waved aside my words: 'No need to apologise, you've done me proud, young man, though I look forward to meeting your parents. Now before they come I'd very much like to take a walk around your estate whilst the rain holds off.' 'Are you planning the scenario for a film?'
I asked. 'Yup, that's the idea. My boy, motion pictures are in their infancy and the three-minute film will, I predict, soon be overtaken by full-length plays which will be shown in special movie theatres,' he replied. We must have looked dubious for Mr. Nolan continued: 'I see you doubt me. Well, boys, I'll go further, I will go so far as to predict that motion pictures will in your lifetime be seen in colour and you'll be able to hear the spoken word coming out from the screen! Ah, I see you smile-well, we shall see, we shall see.
Just remember that people laughed at Mr. Edison's idea for a phonograph. 'But that probably won't happen until the dawn of the new century. Right now, how would you like to come out with me to look for a suitable location for my film?' 'I should say,' said Frank with alacrity, 'especially if we could later watch you make your film.' 'Of course, of course,' said Mr. Nolan cordially. 'If you like, you may even appear in it!' The promise of such a treat was more than enough to get us out of doors and we tramped round our garden until Mr. Nolan stopped and said: This looks like the perfect spot. I want to take* a shot of the house before pointing the camera at a tea-party taking place on the lawn. If the weather is good enough and your parents are amenable, we will made a start directly after breakfast.' My parents arrived home soon afterwards and, like Frank and myself, they thoroughly enjoyed the company of the gregarious American who regaled us with a flood of anecdotes about his fascinating life. Mr. and Mrs. Harbottle and their daughter Katie had also been invited to dine with us and I could see that Katie, a slim, attractive girl of twenty-one, who was sitting next to Mr. Nolan, was especially taken with his recounting of his adventures. It seemed that Mr. Nolan's late father was one of the railway magnates back in America and being the sole heir to a very considerable fortune had enabled his son to travel the world at his leisure. 'You must find it very dull here after New York, Rome, Paris and London, Mr.
Nolan,' sighed my Mama who unlike Papa, enjoyed the bustle of town life, having been brought up in London. He shook his head. 'Dull?
Not a bit of it, ma'am, it's a real pleasure to be able to enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. Why, in New York, or in any great city, I don't think it is possible to secure even six hours of undisturbed sleep. I certainly never achieved this last week in London. I can't blame anyone for the choir of cats that decided to hold a concert on the roof of my hotel but I could have cheerfully strangled the two cabbies who careered down Marylebone High Street shouting imprecations to each other that I cannot repeat here!'
As he paused to take a glass of champagne from Goldhill, I bent under the table to retrieve my napkin which had fallen to
the floor.
And what a shock I had as I looked across to see that Katie Harbottle, who was sitting opposite Mr. Nolan, and who was a most pleasant but quiet and shy girl in company, had taken off her right shoe and was running her stockinged toes up and down Mr. Nolan's left leg! Yet the American continued this little tale as if nothing untoward was happening even though Katie's foot, hidden from general view, was now caressing his inner thigh and was rising higher towards his groin with every stroke! I could hardly remain under the table but, as I straightened up, Mr. Nolan continued as if nothing untoward was happening: “Then one has to cope with the rumbling thunder made by the dustmen's carts, to say nothing of the infernal row made by drunken revellers pouring out of the clubs. Oh, I could think of a hundred other sleep-preventers as well.' 'I can think of a better sleep-preventer than all that-Sally the parlourmaid sucking my cock!' muttered Frank, who was sitting besides me. I dropped my napkin, deliberately this time, and when I bent down to pick it up, I drew a sharp breath to prevent an exclamation of amazement escape from my lips. Katie was still rubbing one foot down Mr. Nolan's leg, but now he had brazenly opened the buttons of his flies, and this was allowing Katie to wriggle the toes of her other foot inside his trousers, stroking them against his naked rampant penis which stood up stiffly out of his under-shorts. With difficulty I suppressed the urge to succumb to hysterics, though I wondered wildly how the two of them would extricate themselves from this compromising situation.
Surprisingly enough, it proved far less awkward than I envisaged for when the time came for the ladies to retire, Katie simply slipped her shoes back on and left the room together with the two older ladies.
Mr. Nolan did not rise fully as the ladies left the table but crouched over his chair, hastily buttoning his trousers as Goldhill came in with a tray of liqueurs. 'Do you belong to any clubs here in England, Mr. Nolan?' asked my father, as Goldhill poured out cognac for us all (Frank and I were allowed a small measure as a special treat) and Mr. Nolan nodded his head. 'Yes, I belong to the Reform and the Travellers and my club in Washington, D.C., the Beesknees, has connections with the Jim Jam in London.' 'The Jim Jam,' said my father thoughtfully. 'I don't think I've ever heard of that establishment.' Mr. Nolan looked quickly at Frank and myself and hurriedly changed the subject: 'I don't get there very often, Colonel.
Tell me now, how do you occupy your time since you left the Indian Army?' 'I'm enjoying the life of an English country gentleman,' replied my father. 'Plenty of hunting, shooting and fishing, you know.' 'Are you keen on country pursuits, Mr. Nolan?' asked George Harbottle, Katie's father and the local squire who was perhaps the best shot in the entire county, a fact that was best kept from Mr.
Nolan whose only pursuit this evening was fucking the squire's daughter! 'As an American I'm always at ease in the great outdoors, sir, and have always been extremely fond of the country,' said Frederick Nolan with a smile. 'Well, it's true that he's extremely fond of cunt!' I said softly to Frank. 'Why, what are you talking about?' my friend whispered back. I quietly explained what I had seen going on underneath the table, which made Frank choke with laughter. 'Let us all in on the joke, boys,' said my father genially. Frank again showed his uncanny ability to manoeuvre his way out of a tight corner by explaining that the cognac had 'gone down the wrong way* and we sat quietly whilst the others finished their liqueurs. 'Shall we join the ladies?' said my father, rising from his seat and as neither guest had taken up my father's previous offer of a cigar, we trooped into the drawing room. Not surprisingly the conversation came round to Mr. Nolan's films and Frank and I exchanged a knowing glance when Katie Harbottle said: 'I'd very much like to see your equipment, Mr. Nolan.' 'Ah, that creates a slight problem,' said the cunning cinematographer, “You see, I have set everything up in my room and it would be rather difficult to bring it all downstairs.' Katie looked disappointed but Mrs. Harbottle said: 'I don't see why you could not go up to Mr. Nolan's room and see his equipment there.' 'I say, Enid-' spluttered her husband, but she imperiously waved away his protest. 'Really, George, by refusing Katie permission to go with Mr. Nolan you are, unwittingly of course, insulting them both! Do you feel that Mr. Nolan or your daughter would behave improperly just because they would be alone for fifteen minutes?' I wondered who was silently cheering Mrs. Harbottle's progressive views-my Mama, who had persuaded Mrs. Harbottle of the justice of the Suffragette cause (much to the squire's disgust!), or Katie and Frederick Nolan who I knew would like nothing better than to find themselves together in a private place and especially a bedroom!
So the young couple made good their escape and at the same time Frank and I were given leave to go and play ping pong on the new table my father had bought me for my birthday last February. On our way to the games room, I suddenly remembered that the other day I had noticed that the bats were missing so I said: 'Come downstairs, Frank and we'll find Goldhill. He'll know where the blinking bats have been put away.' Everyone on duty must have been in the kitchen as there was no member of staff to greet us at the foot of the stairs. However, we heard a girl giggling and then a short murmur coming from a room in front of us. That sounds like Goldhill,' I said so we followed the sounds and pushed open the door of the servants' sitting room. I don't know who was the most embarrassed, Frank and myself or Goldhill and Polly, the scullery maid. For the dark-haired girl was sprawled naked on the large sofa with Goldhill, who was still in uniform (except for his trousers and drawers which were lying over his ankles) slewing his prick in and out of her hairy pussey. At first we stood unseen as the butler's lean bottom cheeks pumped up and down while the couple rocked in time with their amorous exertion. Then Polly let out a little scream as she saw us standing then;, gaping at this lewd scene.
'Don't mind us, old fellow,' Frank called out. 'We'd much rather wait until you've finished before attending to us.' 'Yes, attend to Polly first, Goldhill,' I said, rather enjoying the butler's discomforture though I noted that Polly seemed little put out by the interruption. Tier need is greater than ours.' Polly giggled.
'Come on then, Mr. Goldhill, let's take up where we left off!' And to encourage him she turned over to lie face downwards, reaching across for a soft cushion to insert under her belly so that her hips and chubby rounded bum cheeks were raised high in the air. The butler shuffled between her legs and nudging her knees part, took his sizeable stalk in his hand. 'Are you ready then, Polly?' he asked and after receiving a quick nod of assent, he carefully guided his gleaming weapon into the crack between her bum cheeks, his knob brushing up against her cunney lips before sliding through them into the warm wetness of her welcoming cunt. I must say that Goldhill was no slouch when it came to the mark. As soon as his prick was safely ensheathed in Polly's pussey the butler began to fuck her at a slowish but regular pace and leaned forward so that his chest lay on Polly's back. He reached round to fiddle with her large tawny titties, holding them in thrall as he continued to slew his cock in and out of her sopping slit. Her backside slapped enticingly against his surprisingly muscular thighs as she slipped into the rhythm of fucking that he had established and he increased the pace, now forcefully pounding away as Polly wriggled in delight. As you may imagine, friendly reader, the sight of his thick, veined member see-sawing in and out of her willing cunney made Frank and I extremely horney, especially when the rude girl reached behind to grab hold of his swinging ballsack as it slapped against her bum. Sensing that she was waiting for him, Goldhill increased the speed of his fucking once more and he croaked: 'Here it comes, Polly, brace yourself!' as his torso went rigid and his twitching tool expelled its emission of frothy jism into her seething crack. Polly yelped with glee as the glorious sensations of her own impending orgasm swept like magic throughout her body. The butler collapsed on top of the delighted maid who twisted her bum lasciviously to draw out the last drains of sperm from Goldhill's now exhausted cock. 'Now that was a marvellous fuck, let's do it again,' said Polly brightly but our old retainer looked disconcertedly down at his shrunken shaft
and shook his head.
'I'm sorry, but I'm not up to it, my girl. Besides, I've got to do some work for Master Rupert,' he said as he pulled up his trousers.
'Oh dear,' wailed the gorgeous girl. Is there not a single stiff prick in the entire house?' This question was immediately answered by Frank who fairly ripped open the buttons of his fly to bring out his huge naked cockshaft. 'Will this do?' he enquired, bringing his giant tool closer for Polly to inspect, making the purple knob leap and bound in his hand. 'Oooh, that looks good enough to eat,' said Polly, sliding down on her knees from the sofa and weighing Frank's meaty staff in the palm of her hand. 'What an enormous penis for a lad as young as you!' she exclaimed. I was now getting a little miffed at hearing all the girls say this as soon as Frank showed his cock to any female either upstairs or downstairs! 'Would you like me to suck it or would this mean you wouldn't be able to fuck me afterwards?' she asked. 'Do put it in your mouth, I'll come twice without any problems,' he answered eagerly and on hearing such good news she popped his swollen helmet into her mouth. I could see that Polly was a brilliant fellatrice. She worked on his knob with her tongue, easing her lips forward to take in a little of his shaft. She encircled the base of his cock with one hand and with the other, she began to work the pink, velvety skin up and down, her head bobbing as she sucked away with undisguised relish, taking as much of his rigid pole as she could manage between her lips. Her warm breath and moist mouth sent Frank into the seventh heaven of delight and the feel of her wet tongue slithering around his tingling tool soon brought my chum to the brink of a spend. His tadger jerked uncontrollably as she now moved her hands from his cock to grasp the firm, muscular cheeks of his bottom, moving him backwards and forwards until with a final juddering throb he spurted a lavish stream of sperm into her welcoming mouth. She swallowed his emission joyfully, smacking her lips as she gulped down his tangy jism. 'Now, Master Frank, is your young cock still up to the mark as you promised it would be?' gasped Polly as she cast herself back on the sofa, her legs wide apart to expose her pouting pussey and the receptive red slash of cunney flesh which made my already swollen prick strain even more unmercifully against the material of my trousers. I must confess that I wondered whether Frank could fulfil his boast after squirting his spunk so powerfully down Polly's throat but my doubts were quickly assuaged as Frank, his cock waggling, clambered upon the girl's rich curves with hardly a pause. A moan from them both signalled that his knob had slipped between her cunney lips without any preliminaries. He withdrew and then pushed in again slowly and I saw how, parting slowly to his push, the velvet lips appeared to draw him in as their mouths met in the most passionate of kisses. The bold minx jerked her bottom to absorb more of his slippery staff and in a trice, with a cry of bliss, he was fully engulfed inside the sweet prison of her cunt, his hairy ballsack dangling against her plump backside. Frank's slim, smooth body moved in rhythm, faster and faster until the naughty pair were rocking furiously as he now pounded his thick, rock-hard prick into her willing juicy love channel. Polly twisted in veritable throes of ecstasy, panting and grunting with delight as she slipped her hands down Frank's back to grasp his bum cheeks, eagerly lifting her hips to welcome the thrusting shaft that was sliding so deliciously in and out of her sopping cunney. 'Oh yes, what a glorious fuck! What a strong young cock you have! Faster, faster, I want all that lovely jism in your balls, fill me up with it, flood my cunney!' she gasped.
The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.I Page 7