Sins of the Cities of the Plain (9 page)

     “Please, sirs,” whimpered the poor young man; “stop this folly at once. I have decided to change my mind and withdraw any services toward the respectable Mr. Horner.”

     “Oh, be calm and be still,” I chided, already working up a stiff one as I set to work at the button of his shirt collar. “You are with me now, Jack my friend; a veritable professional at matters such as these. And Mr. Horner was more than correct, as indeed I am much nicer than he. Any pain will come and go quickly, my dear virgin, and then you shall enjoy what happens thereafter most assuredly, and I can guarantee that.”

     “Ah!” cried Mr. Horner, with lecherous glee as he pulled Mr. Wilson’s rising pego from his pants. “Just as I thought, long and fat and dressed in golden blonde hairs; this is more than the way I like them.”

     “Oh, dear!” said Mr. Wilson, as the Q.C. slobbered a thick wet tongue up his rapidly inflating cock.

     “Why hello down there,” I sneered, drawing back upon all of those late-night phantasies I had in humiliating cousin Jerry, and how much that tickled my fancy. “I wonder if that bloating cock will become as red as that sheepish face of yours, Mr. Wilson?”

     “Of course I am flush,” he stammered. “I am mortified and half-faint with these proceedings. Do put a halt to them immediately, I say.”

     “Why certainly a man whose flesh is so solidly packed with fresh and lean, youthful muscle could take a frail such as I, and an old man such as the one licking upon your balls,” I taunted. “If this scene so dissatisfies you, why not make a breakaway and flee out of the door?”

     “I do believe this flagrant cockstand does answer your question, young Jack,” grinned Mr. Horner.

     “Then it is settled,” said I. “What we do have here is a whimpering, fair-haired, genuine Mary-Ann; and so fresh and new this late in the game. I should enjoy popping this tremendous prick of mine into that sweet little bum of yours, and I will pluck the bloom from that rosy little bud as surely as anything, shan’t I, Mr. Horner?”

     “Hmmm,” murmured the clearly enthralled Q.C. “Now I do not know, and perhaps I am having a change of heart. May well it should be me who takes this man’s fruit for the first time, as these things are rare privileges in this day and age.”

     “My dear Mr. Horner,” I snapped. “A deal is a deal, as they say, and our business concerned this fresh and fair Mary-Ann to be fucked by none other than I, leastwise first. And think of it: you will get to lay eyes upon quite a spectacle of the taking, as I mean to lay into poor Mr. Wilson with the many thick inches at my command.”

     “Indeed?” said the Q.C. “Very well, but I must insist I take his first spend of the day, as it would seem I have very nearly got it.”

     Mr. Wilson was powerless in our hands, and when he was fully stripped I commenced to throw off all my clothes, while Mr. Horner was amusing himself, kissing and tickling his balls and gamahuching his cock ‘till the poor young man was almost dead with shame, besides being so excited that he could hardly contain himself.

     “Oh! Oh!! Oh, I am spending!” gasped Mr. Wilson, as great gobs of pearly spend shot from his throbbing tube to land upon the floor or to be caught like cake frosting in Mr. Horner’s mustache.

     “Now jump up,” he exclaimed, “and don’t spare the randy bitch. He’s spent all over my fingers!”

     Mr. Wilson was too much overcome to attempt any resistance to my attack. He was slender and tight, and it would become a troublesome fit, but under his soft and pleading cries I soon got into possession of all he had and began to fire his blood still more by a good rapid fuck. Mr. Horner all the while had taken to slapping my arse with his heavy hand, as he laughed and almost screamed with delight.

     This excited me immensely, so that you may be sure I did not spare our victim, especially as he was so beside herself with real erotic emotion that he heaved, wriggled, and squirmed about beneath me. And when the spending crisis came he was so carried away by these new and exquisite feelings that his arms held me almost like a vice, and he actually made his teeth meet in the fleshy part of my shoulder.

     Mr. Horner now joined in by putting one finger up my bottom, even as I rode on, and then in a minute or two more I felt his prick take the place of his digit.

     Mine was a most delightful position. I never enjoyed anything more than I did being sandwiched between him and Mr. Wilson. Not one of the three seemed anxious to bring such
a
delightful conjunction to a close, and I am sure Mr. Horner was all half-an-hour fucking my bottom, whilst I continued to make Mr. Wilson respond in the most amorous manner possible to the motions of my excited pego.

     He so far forgot himself as to say soft endearing things, and would every now and then ejaculate:

     “Ah! Oh! How delicious! Will you make me come again? I can’t help myself. I’m in heaven. Push, push now, there’s a darling!”

     Whilst the barrister was so carried away that he fairly screamed with delight.

     I was handsomely rewarded for my services, and he took Mr. Wilson for his manservant, and I afterwards often went through the same performance with them at his residence in Palace Gardens, Kensington.

CHAPTER X. The Earl’s Grand Party

     The next adventure I can think of was at a garden party given in honour of the Prince of Wales; I will not say exactly where, but it was in the grounds of a noble mansion on the banks of the Thames, not a hundred miles from Richmond.

     Lord Arthur took me with him, dressed as a midshipman, and I was presented to his Royal Highness as the Hon. Mr. Somebody, I can’t exactly remember the name now.

     After promenading for some time we met an elderly gentleman to whom he introduced me as a member of Inslip’s club.

     “Eveline,” whispered Lord Arthur, “this is Lord H., who has heard of your attractions; let me introduce and leave you with him.”

     “Lord H. expressed the great pleasure he had in making my acquaintance, adding to Lord Arthur, “that he hoped his young friend was not too shy or mock modest.”

     Being reassured upon this point, he took me for a walk into some of the most shady parts of the grounds.

     At last we came to a very retired arbor with a seat behind some rockwork and a small fountain playing in front.

     “Just the spot for us,” said his lordship. “Let me sit down here and make a better acquaintance, my dear!”

     He was as loving as if I had been a young girl all at once, and then as I blushed at his observations about my appearance, and the promising bunch in the fork of my trousers, he proceeded to handle me, and pressed his lips to mine in a long breathsucking kiss.

     I wished he had been a nice young fellow, but his attentions soon aroused all my usually excitable feelings—my cock throbbed, and stood as stiffly as ever under the soft pressures of his hand, as he held it inside my trousers.

     “I must kiss this darling jewel!” he exclaimed. “I love to swallow all the spendings of a nice young fellow like you, Eveline.”

     Then going on his knees before me, he put my prick in his mouth and sucked me most lusciously, whilst with one hand passed under my bottom he postillioned me in the most delightful manner possible, and when the crisis came in a few minutes he swallowed every drop with the greatest possible relish.

     His next proceeding was to lower his own breeches and get me to bugger him, which seemed to afford him equally exquisite pleasure, as his old prick stood as stiffly as possible. And after I had spent in his arsehole, he made me toss him off for a finish.

     When we rejoined the company, one of the retinue of His Royal Highness begged for an introduction, and after some little conversation, assured me my fortune would be made if I would only consent to visit Berlin and Vienna, as he could introduce me to many of the highest personages in Germany.

     Not caring to leave good old England, I politely declined his overtures, assuring him at the same time that I had not the least objection to be introduced to any of his eminent countrymen, should they happen to visit London.

     On our return to town in the evening we found Boulton and Park waiting for us at his lordship’s chambers. They wanted us to join in an especially fiery orgy, to take place the same night at the house of a certain young Earl, who had two young pages just arrived, the one from France and the other from Italy. Their introduction into the mystic circle was to be the chief event of the night’s programme.

     Lord Arthur had another engagement, which prevented him coming with us, and so I went with them.

     They had a private brougham in waiting, which took us to Grosvenor Square.

     A very sedate and elderly footman ushered us upstairs to a dressing-room, which formed part of the Earl’s own special apartments, a suite of six or seven rooms, rigorously set apart from the rest of the house, where none but his confidential servants and pages were ever allowed to enter.

     At the time of our visit the Countess was out of town at Scarborough, assiduously carrying on an anything but innocent flirtation with a certain young marquis; but the Earl, her husband, cared not a fig for that, so long as he enjoyed himself in his own way.

     “His lordship will expect you in the billiard-room in half-an-hour. You will find your portmanteaus all right. They were placed here directly after they arrived an hour or so ago,” remarked the footman as he withdrew.

     “Then we must not lose any time, my dear Eveline. You will find I have brought a charming costume for you,” said Boulton.

     Notwithstanding sundry loving jokes and liberties we were soon ready to see the Earl, and as we entered the billiard-room, found he had three other gentlemen with him, all young fellows like himself, under twenty-five or thereabouts.

     “How are you, my dears? Laura and Selina, how lovable you both look; and this, I suppose, is the charming Eveline I heard so much of the other night at Inslip’s. These are my regular chums, who call themselves Mr. Wirein, Mr. Cold Cream, and the Hon. Mr. Come-again. You will, of course, find their names and pedigrees in Debrett’s if you care to look them up. Now, don’t be bashful, and I will also introduce you to my three pages who are in special attendance on us to night.”

     Saying which he opened the door of what looked like a large bookcase, and there stood three of the prettiest fellows I had ever seen, each of them quite naked with his stiff prick in his hand.

     The eldest, apparently, was a fair young French fellow about twenty-one; the second an olive-tinted, but very handsome Italian boy of nineteen; and the third an exquisitely formed little black boy of about eighteen, with a prick of which any man might have been proud.

     How I longed for the young black fellow!

     The billiard-room opened into another fine apartment, used as a smoking-room, but in reality most luxuriously fitted up with most seductive-looking couches and ottomans, the heavily-curtained windows being separated by mirrors which extended from floor to ceiling.

     His lordship conducted me to one of the sofas, whilst Laura and Selina took seats between the other three gentlemen.

     Refreshments were served by the pages on little tables in front of us; then, at a sign from their master, they commenced a gambol at leap-frog all ‘round the room.

     This was a most exciting and beautiful sight—to see three such young Adonises flying over each other’s back, all their pricks as stiff as if carved out of stone; then what a study of graceful forms the ever-varying contour of their lovely figures presented to our fascinated gaze during the evolutions of their game.

     In the midst of the game Lady Isabel was announced, and I at once recognized Mr. Fred Jones, looking as beautiful as ever in his ladylike get-up.

     This made four ladies and four gentlemen, besides the pages. The Earl at once handing me over to Mr. Wirein, sat himself down with Laura to a couple of pianos at the end of the room, and they struck up what I understood to be the “Slap-Bum Polka.”

     “Lay the boys across your laps, ladies, and slap them well!” exclaimed Mr. Cold Cream. So, catching hold of the dark beauty, I threw him across my knees, just as my partner got me on his lap, raised my clothes and inserted his stiff prick between my thighs. One of his hands passed ‘round under my clothes ‘till he could get at my prick, and he frigged that quite nicely, whilst I turned up my young man’s bum and made him wriggle on my lap like a little eel at every smarting impact of my hand on his ebony posteriors.

     The others were doing the same. Isabel was slapping Leon, the French page, whilst Selina had Menotti the Italian, and right well did their hands bring the crimson flushes to their new-found friends’ bottoms as they slapped them as hard as they possibly could.

     Our partners encouraged us by saying, “Bravo! lay on to them well. Make them spend under the slapping! Look how their pricks swell more and more at every blow!”

     And so it was.

     Then, just as we fancied our victims really would spend their virgin essence, our partners shifted their cocks from between our thighs, and at the same time applying a little cold cream on the outside of our fundamental entrances, they slipped into our bottoms in the most delicious manner.

     Mr. Wirein had a lovely prick, which just fitted me exactly, and to judge by the faces of Isabel and Selina they were equally well pleased with their partner’s affairs.

     The object of my ministration’s eyes were fairly streaming with tears under the pain of my slaps. I was too excited to feel the least inclined to spare that ebony bum of his, for I scarcely knew what I was doing. His cock, quite seven inches long, so took my fancy that I quickly raised him so that he stood on my lap, and brought it right opposite to my longing lips, which instantly took the deep purple head into my mouth.

     Did you ever see a black man’s penis when excited? The head of it is the blackest part of his body, and looks a bit like a plum when the skin is drawn back. I wetted one of my fingers—the middle one of the left hand—and passing that arm ‘round his bottom, kept him steady whilst at the same item I postillioned his little bottom-hole; my right hand holding the shaft of his lovely prick or playing with his balls whilst I sucked his delicious jewel of love.