‘till we both spent again—I in his arse and he on my belly, his seed shooting along all over my breast.
This rather exhausted us for a time, but we lay in each other’s arms, my prick still soaking and throbbing within the tight folds of his anus, and quite oblivious to all that was passing around us, when suddenly—Whish! Whish! Whack! Whack! came a birch on poor Leon’s bum, and he would have fairly unshipped my affair from its delicious berth, had I not held him like a vice in my arms.
It was his lordship the Earl, birch in hand, whilst the Hon. Mr. Come-again was shoving into his bottom and frigging his prick for him.
He was called Mr. Come-again (I afterwards . found out) by his friends, as no amount of fucking ever seemed to take down the pride of his constantly standing member.
Another couple in similar conjunction were attacking with the birch the bottom of his lordship’s lover, with others behind who passed their birching compliments from group to group, ‘till young Leon’s bum evidently received the quintessence of birch discipline. Heavens! how it made him move and dance on my delighted cock, whilst his affair, quite eight inches long, swelled and rubbed furiously on my belly as I lay under him.
This lasted a long time. The twigs fairly drew blood again and again, but added immensely to our enjoyment. The Earl seemed to take the greatest possible delight in letting many of his strokes sting the tenderest parts of my inner thighs, and even my prick itself, if it happened to be exposed so that his rod could touch it up.
We screamed, laughed, and actually shed tears now and then, ‘till at last it ended in the usual voluptuous emissions, which drove us almost beyond our reason from the excessive pleasure of the supreme moment.
This is only a trifle of what we went through before daylight put a stop to the further development of carnal ideas for that time at least. All I know is that it took a good week’s rest to make me feel fit to pay my next visit to Inslip’s Club.
CHAPTER XI. Young Winston and George Brown’s Recollections
Only lately I have been introduced to two curious members of the Mary-Ann profession. The first is known as Young Winston, who is a very handsome youth of seventeen or thereabouts. He is about five feet two or three inches; very fair and pretty; with chestnut hair, dark blue eyes, and a set of pearly teeth which, combined with the rosy colour of his cheeks, makes him an almost irresistible bait to old gentlemen—or for that to young ones too—who are addicted to the pederastic vice.
We are very much in each other’s confidence, so he let me into the secrets of his way of doing business.
One afternoon, as we were smoking and drinking champagne together, he suddenly commenced:
“Do you think, Jack, I ever let those old fellows have me? No fear, I know a game worth two of that. You see, I never bring them home with me, and in fact always affect an innocent air: don’t know where to go to; am living with my father and mother at Greenwich or some out-of-the-way part of London, and only came to the West-End to look about and see the shops and swells, and the like. If a gentleman is very pressing I never consent to anything unless he asks me to accompany him to his house or chambers. Once I get home with him, I say, ‘Now, sir, what present are you going to make me?’
“’Stop a bit, my boy, ‘til we see how you please me,’ or something very like that is the answer I generally get.
“’No; I’ll have it now, or I’ll raise the house, you old sod. Do you think I’m a greenhorn? I want a fiver. Don’t I know too well that little boys only get five or ten shillings after it’s all over? but that won’t do for me, so shell out at once, or I’ll raise the house, and a pretty scandal it will be!’
“That frightens
This rather exhausted us for a time, but we lay in each other’s arms, my prick still soaking and throbbing within the tight folds of his anus, and quite oblivious to all that was passing around us, when suddenly—Whish! Whish! Whack! Whack! came a birch on poor Leon’s bum, and he would have fairly unshipped my affair from its delicious berth, had I not held him like a vice in my arms.
It was his lordship the Earl, birch in hand, whilst the Hon. Mr. Come-again was shoving into his bottom and frigging his prick for him.
He was called Mr. Come-again (I afterwards . found out) by his friends, as no amount of fucking ever seemed to take down the pride of his constantly standing member.
Another couple in similar conjunction were attacking with the birch the bottom of his lordship’s lover, with others behind who passed their birching compliments from group to group, ‘till young Leon’s bum evidently received the quintessence of birch discipline. Heavens! how it made him move and dance on my delighted cock, whilst his affair, quite eight inches long, swelled and rubbed furiously on my belly as I lay under him.
This lasted a long time. The twigs fairly drew blood again and again, but added immensely to our enjoyment. The Earl seemed to take the greatest possible delight in letting many of his strokes sting the tenderest parts of my inner thighs, and even my prick itself, if it happened to be exposed so that his rod could touch it up.
We screamed, laughed, and actually shed tears now and then, ‘till at last it ended in the usual voluptuous emissions, which drove us almost beyond our reason from the excessive pleasure of the supreme moment.
This is only a trifle of what we went through before daylight put a stop to the further development of carnal ideas for that time at least. All I know is that it took a good week’s rest to make me feel fit to pay my next visit to Inslip’s Club.
CHAPTER XI. Young Winston and George Brown’s Recollections
Only lately I have been introduced to two curious members of the Mary-Ann profession. The first is known as Young Winston, who is a very handsome youth of seventeen or thereabouts. He is about five feet two or three inches; very fair and pretty; with chestnut hair, dark blue eyes, and a set of pearly teeth which, combined with the rosy colour of his cheeks, makes him an almost irresistible bait to old gentlemen—or for that to young ones too—who are addicted to the pederastic vice.
We are very much in each other’s confidence, so he let me into the secrets of his way of doing business.
One afternoon, as we were smoking and drinking champagne together, he suddenly commenced:
“Do you think, Jack, I ever let those old fellows have me? No fear, I know a game worth two of that. You see, I never bring them home with me, and in fact always affect an innocent air: don’t know where to go to; am living with my father and mother at Greenwich or some out-of-the-way part of London, and only came to the West-End to look about and see the shops and swells, and the like. If a gentleman is very pressing I never consent to anything unless he asks me to accompany him to his house or chambers. Once I get home with him, I say, ‘Now, sir, what present are you going to make me?’
“’Stop a bit, my boy, ‘til we see how you please me,’ or something very like that is the answer I generally get.
“’No; I’ll have it now, or I’ll raise the house, you old sod. Do you think I’m a greenhorn? I want a fiver. Don’t I know too well that little boys only get five or ten shillings after it’s all over? but that won’t do for me, so shell out at once, or I’ll raise the house, and a pretty scandal it will be!’
“That frightens
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