Whether by accident or design, I am unsure, but Barbara's legs were already slightly parted when Katie's hand slyly insinuated itself between them and began to rub her mound through the semi-transparent material of her drawers. I only feasted my eyes on this lascivious scene for a moment because Barbara let out a little scream, saying that she could see the others returning from their walk in the woods. Reluctantly, Katie said: 'Oh, then put on your skirt and blouse but leave the top buttons undone so Campbell can see the swell of your lovely breasts. Gosh, he is a lucky man! If I were he, I would nibble upon your luscious red titties and bring you off by frigging your juicy cunney.' 'Katie! How could you be so rude!' said Barbara reprovingly but from her tone of voice I could see that she was not really offended by Katie's blunt country speech. She had plenty of time to prepare herself by the time the men returned and I stretched my limbs and let out a huge yawn as if I had just woken up from a deep sleep. When the others reached us Fred Nolan announced that he would be taking his camera to a picturesque location they had discovered during their walk. 'Come on, Rupert, we'll take the pony and trap,' said Frank. 'Do you mind if I stay here, I've got rather a headache coming on and I'm going to sleep it off,' I fibbed, and Campbell and Barbara also demurred. 'As you like,' said Fred Nolan. 'We'll be back in about an hour and half.' As they left, I rolled over and pretended to go back to sleep, leaving Campbell and Barbara together nearby. Sure enough, as soon as the coast was clear, they fell to kissing and cuddling in the most passionate fashion. Yet Campbell forbore to let his hands move towards Barbara's bosoms even though she had left the top buttons of her blouse invitingly open as Katie had instructed. There was only one way forward, she must have thought, for she took hold of Campbell's hands herself and cupped them firmly around her magnificent breasts. 'Don't you like my titties?' she asked plaintively. 'Oh yes, yes,' he groaned, 'but I fear that if I let my hands stay there they might be tempted to stray elsewhere!' 'Don't fret about it, I would have no objection,' she told him as she opened the remaining buttons of her blouse. Even this highly disciplined young clergyman could not be unmoved by the sight of her bare breasts as she shrugged off the garment and opened her chemise. Her dark hair, now fully undone and hanging in long tresses, veiled yet highlighted her firm, bouncy breasts. The swell of those superb orbs acted as magnets to Campbell's hands as he squeezed the milky white globes and let his fingers play with the tawny, taut nipples which had risen up to greet him.
This stimulated the pretty girl so much that she let her hand run down to his lap from which bulged an alarming protuberance. As their lips crashed together once more she opened the buttons of his trousers and out sprang his huge stiffstander, sturdily rising upwards. Barbara took hold of his swollen shaft and I must say that this holy son of Hibernia had been blessed with an enormous prick. It stood up, blue veined and as stiff as a board, jutting out at a slight curve. Barbara pulled back his foreskin and exposed the giant bulbous knob. She started to rub her hand up and down the giant staff but this set Campbell off into a wild frenzy. He almost ripped off Barbara's knickers in a frenzy of lustful desire and her thickly matted brown triangle of pussey hair came into view, with the little pink labia already fluttering out in anticipation of the joys to come. He then pushed her legs apart and separated her cunney lips with a questioning forefinger, letting it run up and down the full length of her exquisitely fashioned crack. 'Ooooh, Ooooh! Oh, Campbell, at last!' panted Barbara, as the curate continued to let his finger slide along the edges of her pouting slit. 'Now work it in and out of my cunt, there's a dear man.' He looked shocked at her frank words but as they engaged in yet another almost bruising kiss, he let one and then two fingers dip in and out of Barbara's honeypot. She purred with pure lust as she continued to rub his prick up to a stupendous height whilst by now Campbell was sucking and slurping away on one enlarged brown nipple and flicking and teasing the other between his fingers at a great speed. When Barbara reached down and handled his balls, the curate's body visibly shook and a fountain of sticky white cream spurted out from his cock. Barbara was by now trembling with the force of her own orgasm which rippled through her just as the last dribblings of spunk oozed out of Campbell's cock. In her delight she bent forward and lapped up the last dregs of his spend and the curate looked shocked. But she simply smacked her lips and said: 'There's nothing wrong in swallowing sperm, Campbell. I do so enjoy the salty taste of spunk. It is the most invigorating of tonics and it enables me to remain a virgin whilst bringing us both to the summit of the mountain of love. And come to think of it, I am making sure that you are guiltless of the sin of Onan who let his seed fall upon the ground. Campbell was not without a sense of humour and he said: 'I'm not too sure about the theology, my love, but the main reason is good enough for me. What a pity though that you only managed to lick up a morsel.' 'Ah, well I'm sure we can see if the well has not dried up,' said Barbara, dropping to her knees and taking the now shrunken helmet of his prick in her hands. She stroked his soft, hairy ballsack and took his entire limp shaft into her mouth, rolling it around her tongue until in a very few moments she took it out the transformed tool, now hard as rock again! She kissed the top of this massive red topped truncheon and sucked lustily on the uncapped ruby crown. Barbara had to stretch her jaw to cram in Campbell's big stiffie and continued to lick and lap away whilst frigging his shaft which brought on his climax very quickly. With a throaty moan, he shuddered and the first creamy jet of spunk came hurtling out of his cock. The first jet hit Barbara's nose but then she opened her mouth wide and gobbled furiously upon her sweetmeat, swallowing quickly to keep pace with his tangy libation. Then, as his spend passed its peak she took his entire shaft back into her mouth, sucking for all she was worth to extract the very last milky drops of love juice from his pumping prick. As they lay together, exhausted by their frenetic passions, I would have given anything for the opportunity to give myself some much-needed hand relief. But the lewd pair were looking almost directly at me and I could hardly move or they might guess that I had been watching them all the time! Barbara was the first to stir from their reverie. 'Campbell, did you enjoy yourself? I'm ready for more larks if you are.' 'I'd like to carry on but though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak,' he sighed ruefully, flipping his limp penis with his hand. Barbara looked sorrowfully down at his turgid cock and said: 'Never mind, you don't need a stiff prick to release a lady. How would you like to kiss my pussey? I'd really be happy if you would. Have you ever done it before?' He blushed and replied: 'Back in Dundee there was a wee lassie named Lizzie who liked to have her cunney kissed. I'm not sure though that I was any good at it as she used to say that only my friend Eddie could bring her off with his mouth.' I'd like to find out for myself,' said Barbara, looking around to ensure that they were still alone. She unbuttoned her skirt and wriggled out of her knickers. She smoothed her hand between her parted thighs, letting her long fingers run through the thick tuft of curly brown hair through which I could just about see her cunney lips poking invitingly through their hirsute covering.
The curate heaved himself up to kneel before her and I could see that though there was now a crimson flush of excitement on his face, his prick still dangled flaccidly between his legs. Gingerly, he bent his head forward and planted a chaste kiss on her hairy mound. Then he kissed her furry bush again, this time with more feeling, and then again and again until he rained a veritable deluge of kisses upon her cunney. Now he was lying on his belly, his mouth tightly affixed to Barbara's pussey which, though hidden from my view, must have responded to his attentions. Very soon Campbell was sucking and slurping her love juices with uninhibited abandon. This set Barbara off, for she clamped her legs around his head as he paid court to her cunt whilst his hands reached up and grabbed her breasts, rolling her titties around in a circular motion. I heard Barbara breathe: 'Oh yes, finger-fuck me, darling,' as Campbell continued to pleasure her pussey as her hips moved up and down with increasing vigour until finally, with a convulsive tremor, she shouted o
ut with great passion and came off, drenching his face with her love juices as she writhed in the delicious agonies of her orgasm. 'Was that good for you?' enquired Campbell somewhat unnecessarily as he raised himself up on his knees. 'Lovely, that was really lovely,' she sighed.
'Campbell, you tongue pussey beautifully and though I have yet to experience it, I cannot believe that your cock could be a very much more powerful organ. I adored the way you began with a light flicking motion on my clitty and then how you switched to cover the length of my crack from the clitty to the arse-hole. Oh darling, I so want you to make love to me!' He looked down and I saw that his once-turgid cock had now stiffened up into an enormous erection that poked up between his thighs like a flagpole. 'I would give anything to fuck you, Barbara, my sweet, and I fear that if we continue to carry on this way, this will happen as surely as night follows the day.'
'Then let us do it! I am tired of the stealthy hidden kisses, the furtive fondlings and clandestine meetings,' she declared, holding his throbbing tool and pressing it to the cleft between her gorgeous breasts. And who knows, perhaps Barbara would have lost her virginity then and there if the sound of the pony and trap had not been heard in the distance. They hastily broke away from each other and dressed themselves in record time so that all was seemly by the time Fred Nolan stepped down from the driving board and said cheerfully: 'Hello there, you two! The sun has gone behind the clouds so until it reappears we thought we would come back and keep you company.'
Campbell smiled weakly and I am sure that Barbara would have been lost for words but I saved the situation by giving a loud yawn and saying: 'Ah, what a difference forty winks can make. My headache has totally vanished and I'm quite fit again. What shall we do now?'
'Alas, I must be off as I promised to chair a meeting in the village hall this afternoon,' said Campbell. 'Actually, it's of the local Sports Club. Er, I don't suppose you would care to join us, Mr.
Nolan. Yours is such a fascinating profession that I am sure the members would be greatly interested in anything you had to day.'
'Members are usually more interested in which pussies they can slide into,' muttered Frank quietly as Fred Nolan shook his head.
Thank you for the invitation but I must be getting back and start developing my film which will keep me busy for some time. Katie, boys, would you like to stay here or go back to Albion Towers with me? 'Oh do stay,' begged Barbara. These meetings can be tedious but they don't last too long and then if you have time we can go back to my house for tea and crumpets. I can always arrange for Connor to take you back in one of our carriages.' No doubt because Mr. Nolan would be busy in the darkroom, Katie promptly accepted her invitation but Frank decided to go back home with Fred Nolan as he genuinely did feel the beginnings of a headache coming upon him (in later life poor Frank-or Sir Frank Folkestone to give my oldest friend his proper present-day nomenclature, for he inherited the family baronetcy in April 1912 when his father perished at sea, being a passenger on the ill-fated Titanic-has suffered badly from severe migraines, the pains of which can only be mitigated by lying down in a darkened room and when possible, having his prick sucked by a willing naked maidservant though I doubt whether his physician prescribed this latter treatment!). 'What a shame! After we have concluded the few items of business our little gathering is to be addressed by the hypnotist Dr Glanville Porterfield and it could prove to be a very interesting affair as he will offer to hypnotise members of the audience,' she said with regret. 'Oh, I'd like to come and see Dr Porterfield in action, if I may,' I piped up. 'Certainly, Rupert, do join us,' said Campbell and so I asked Frank to instruct Goldhill to send Wallace our coachman back with the pony and trap to Farnham Village Hall at five o'clock sharp. 'Katie, Wallace can take you back to Harbottle Hall,' I added. So we made our way to Farnham Village Hall where fifty or so ladies and gentlemen of the local gentry were gathered. The main business of the meeting was to thank those ladies and gentlemen who had taken part in the croquet, cricket and lawn tennis matches played by Farnham against other localities. Most of these matters were only of minimal interest but I will record the words of one Mr. Anthony Cheetham, the captain of Farnham cricket team, which so far that season had vanquished all before them, winning eight matches and drawing one, and that only because rain stopped play when Farnham were poised for victory. He asked that despite past successes all members of the side should keep their noses to the grindstone. Mr. Cheetham's wise advice was reproduced later in the week by our county newspaper and, being a keen cricketer myself, I reproduce them here-American readers of my journal may well consider that they apply equally to baseball, a sport which I also enjoy in the summer months. He said: It is related of the Hon. Peter Forbes-Hornby, one of the best-known old Yorkshire gentlemen sportsmen, that whenever he had an unoccupied half hour, he used to set up a stump and bowl at it. It is to be wished that there was more of this commendable practice. Bowling is much more of dogged perseverance than of initial skill and many more players would stand a chance of distinguishing themselves by their bowling than by their batting,' Mr. Forbes-Hornby also said: 'A good cricketer will always keep a ball perpetually about him; to be always tossing it and throwing it so as to get thoroughly used to the feel of it.' Perhaps this is how Mr. Forbes-Hornby achieved his sensational throw of more than one hundred and twenty yards with the cricket ball which was witnessed and attested to by Mr.
Cheetham though it was impossible to ascertain the distance with absolute accuracy for the ball struck the trunk of a tree some four feet from the ground. Once all these affairs had been completed, we settled down to listen to Dr Porterfield's address. He began by explaining just what hypnotism is-an artificially induced state of semi-consciousness characterised by a greatly increased susceptability to suggestions made by the hypnotist. “There is nothing supernatural involved despite the warnings of some ignorant and irresponsible journalists in the popular press,' said Dr Porterfield, a plump, distinguished-looking gentleman who, though almost as bald as a coot, nevertheless sported a full black beard. 'Although the science of hypnotism probably dates back to ancient times, it was the Austrian physician Friedrich Mesmer who first used hypnosis in a medical capacity, proving that by imposing his will upon that of his subject, he could treat his patients and at the same time spare them much pain.
'On the music hall stage, there are hypnotists who put members of the audience in a trance and make them perform strange acts. Frankly, this concerns me as I believe that hypnotism is a serious business and should not be popularised purely for the purposes of amusement.'
His speech was interrupted by a snort of disapproval from a lady sitting in the back row. The Reverend Armstrong, acting as Chairman, frowned and cleared his throat as he stood up, presumably to ask for order, but Dr Porterfield waved his hand. 'No, my dear sir, I think it obvious that the lady at the back has a point to make. Madam, would you like to say something?' The lady concerned rose to her feet.
She was a not unattractive woman in her early thirties, with a haughty expression on her rather sharp features. That's Mrs. Robinson. She's a real martinet of the same ilk as my Papa,' whispered Barbara to us.
'I don't believe a word of all this mumbo-jumbo,' said Mrs.
Robinson firmly. 'I'd like to see somebody try and hypnotise me!'
'Well, rest assured, Madam, it is extremely difficult for even the most expert practitioner to hypnotise somebody against their will,' said Dr Porterfield. 'Stuff and nonsense! That's just an excuse-I've seen a so-called hypnotist at work at a house-party and he pretended to make a gentleman believe he was a duck and go quacking all round the room. He made a lady say “Please do not touch my nose” to another lady five minutes to the second after she came out of her trance and performed other parlour tricks.' Dr Porterfield spread out his hands. These may have been parlour tricks, but I assure you that if the hypnotist was genuine then these tricks, as you term them, were genuine enough and had not been planned beforehand by those concerned.' 'I find that hard t
o accept and would need further proof,' she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Then come up to the front and I will hypnotise you here and now,' said Dr Porterfield.
'On the condition that you will not fight against me, I will prove to you and the ladies and gentlemen present, that I am not trying to perpetrate a gigantic confidence trick.' 'Very well,' said Mrs.
Robinson and made her way up to the stage to an excited buzz in the audience. Campbell Armstrong gave her his chair and she sat down, looking directly at Dr Porterfield. He called for silence and then took out his pocket watch and dangled it on its chain in front of her.
'Just look at this watch,' he said, 'and follow its progress as it moves from side to side. There, you are feeling sleepy, very sleepy. Your eyes are drooping and now, on the count of three, you will be asleep, one, two, three.' The audience watched fascinated as Mrs. Robinson's eyes closed as she sat slumbering in her chair.
'Raise your right arm,' commanded the hypnotist and she immediately obeyed. 'Now when I tell you to do so, you will try and rest your elbow on your lap. But your arm is so light, as light as a balloon so though you want to bring it down, you find you cannot do so because it flies up again straightaway. Now, on the count of three, try to bring down your arm, one, two, three!' It was quite extraordinary how Mrs.
Robinson dropped her arm and that as soon as she did so, it shot up again as if of its own accord! 'Are your subjects able to speak under hypnosis?' asked Katie Harbottle. 'Oh yes,' said Dr Porterfield and, turning to Mrs. Robinson, told her to open her eyes.
'Now perhaps you will tell us if you received any visitors at home earlier today?' An innocent enough question to be sure-but what a Pandora's Box was opened when Mrs. Robinson replied that her friend Mrs. Thatcher had come round for morning coffee. 'Oh, yes,' said Dr Porterfield. 'And what did you talk about?' Mrs. Robinson replied: 'We had a most exciting conversation about Walsh, the new window cleaner who has taken over from Chamberlain who moved to Alwoodley last month. Walsh is a most personable young man and does his work far better than his predecessor.' 'He makes the windows shine brighter?' prompted the hypnotist. 'Never mind the bloody windows,' she said impatiently. 'It's his prick that Mrs. Thatcher and I were concerned about.' 'His what?' spluttered Dr Porterfield, who was as shocked as anyone in the hall. 'His prick,' she repeated. 'After all, Chamberlain was hardly up to completing his round any more, what with trying to satisfy up to a dozen ladies who wanted to be fucked during one working day. But I think Walsh will be able to cope. He came round yesterday afternoon and after he'd done his work he came into the drawing room-' 'Stop her, Dr Porterfield, tell her to stop talking!' said Campbell Armstrong urgently, pulling Dr Porterfield's coat-tails to attract his attention. But the unfortunate hypnotist's foot slipped as he turned back again to instruct Mrs. Robinson to keep quiet-though by now the cat was well and truly out of the bag-and he crashed over Reverend Armstrong's chair sending them both sprawling onto the floor. Although the curate was only slightly dazed by the impact, our poor speaker hit his head on the floor with a resounding crack and was as soundly out for the count as if a pugilist had felled him with an uppercut.
The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.I Page 11