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It started as a threesome, then it was just the two of us.
Set in a Country Mansion in the 19th Century.


It was late one afternoon when father called me into his study.

“James me boy,” he said ominously, “Have you any thoughts about marrying yet?”

“No father” I admitted, “I have another year studying at Oxford before I even think of dalliances.”

“Its all very well being buggered senseless when your a pup,” he explained, “But for propriety.”

“I’ve never been buggered in my life nor shall be,” I exclaimed. Sometimes I wondered how I could possibly be related to my father so peculiar were his views.

“Well wanking then, sure as fate you will go blind.” he added.

“Father there is no link betwixt testicles and eyeballs save for the commonly used expression “Balls” I explained but his brain, always supposing he possessed one was too feeble to comprehend.

“Well your mama has arranged for Lucida to stay for the weekend, you do remember Lucinda don’t you?”

he enquired.

How could I forget, Lucinda a vicious tomboy who regularly beat me up when we played as children. A rotund porcine lump, who reportedy enjoyed carnality with her female classmates to such excess that even the Cheltenham girs school was forced to expell her.

“Fat as a pig and generally less pleasant,” I agreed.

“So you do remember, well your mother sees her as an admirable match for you.” he said jovially.

“And do I have any say in this?” I asked.

“As long as it is a yes,” he laughed.

Lucinda arrived not an hour later, even fatter than hitherto and in her trail a sweet slender thing, “Miss Pattimore, I call her Pat,” Lucinda laughed, “Come let us explore the bed room.” and she whisked Pat away.

Pat seemed somewhat devoid of enthusiasm. I wondered about her.

I left a decent interval and went upstairs myself. I knocked on their bedroom door and entered.

Lucinda was on the bed, half naked and to my utter astonishment Pat was attending to Lucinda, not with a hearth brush handle as I expected but with her whole fist and part of her forearm deep inside Lucinda’s distended womb entry.

“May I join in?” I asked as I bolted the door as they should have done.

“Out!” Lucinda cried, though she was somewhat hampered in her options by Pat’s hand deep inside her.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” I observed and I lifted the kneeling Pat’s skirt.

“Stop!” Pat cried but it was too late for her long skirts were up and her buttocks bared.

“Oh stop your protests woman, clearly you are just a common whore now brace yourself,” I advised as I loosened and dropped my breeches.

Relief was infrequent at Cambridge, every spare penny I had I invested and only some of it did I invest on playing poker, leaving none what so ever for liquor or whoring.

Her buttocks were inviting and to be honest I intended to bugger her royally as she pleasured Lucinda but a gleam of moisture from her slot distracted me, why not use the sweet clean orifice rather than the soiled waste exit of the anus.

So the die was cast and within half a minute Pat was royally skewered on my cock. She protested my incursion with a yelp but in all honesty I believed it just a token protest and not a serious objection.

Her lower lips parted readily enough, moistened and willing I would have said, and anyway she was a whore being paid by Lucinda so her every part should have been available for use.

I worked my hands to her breasts and cupped them and tweaked her teats as I plowed her and as is the way all too soon my time was come, my bolt shot and the moment over.

“I must say Lucinda your whore provdes a most acceptable fuck.” I thought praise was appropriate at this juncture having dodged a few shillings whore’s fees as I thought.

“I’m not a whore,” Pat bridled.

“No James, she is my friend, in fact I am her chaperone!” Lucinda laughed excitedly, “So what do you think of my James?” she asked.

“I think he is an insufferable oaf!” Pat declared.

“But how does he fuck my darling?” Lucinda enquired.

“How should I know, I have nothing with which to compare hims save a broom handle,” she answered.

“Good lord was I your first?” I asked.

“Of course!” she replied.

“No ‘Of course’ about it, you were fucking Lucinda as I came in, you looked every inch a whore so how the devil am I supposed to know,” I fumed, “Am I supposed to ask every wench ‘Are you pure’ before I pleasure them?”

“No but a bye your leave would be a sound starting point,” Lucinda opined.

“If chaps had to ask a bye your leave every time he fancied a poke the whole of humanity would die out in a rash of virginity,” I opined.

“Oh lord there is slime running out of me,” Pat declared.

“Of course there is you idiot I just fucked you!” I snapped.

“I say,” a gruff voice enquired, “Who has been fucking whom?”

“Tis I father, fucking Lucinda’s whore.” I announced.

“You bloody fool she is not a whore but Arbuthnot Pattimore’s daughter, heir to his fortune,” he declared.

“Awfully sorry,” I exclaimed, “I’ll ask properly next time.

“What next time?” Miss Pattimore snarled, which I admit annoyed me, as she was wiping Lucinda’s juices from her fist while dabbing her lower lips with the other hand at one and the same time.

“Am I that repulsive?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said rather impulsively, “I shall have you tried for this.”

If she had not been sitting on the edge of the bed dabbing herself as she spoke, her sex clearly on view and quite enchanting, her words may have had their desired effect.

As it was with breeches cast aside and member once again rampant I merely asked, “May I?” as I lunged at her brushing her hands away and unerringly spearing her sex once more.

“Is he always this passionate?” Miss Pattimore asked.

“Not with me,” Lucinda admitted, “I thought he got his relief from other gentlemen shooting their load up his backside.”

“I’m not a sodomite,” I insisted, “But I cannot believe Miss Pattimore has not been reamed with the utmost regularity,” I ventured.

“With a brush handle yes but not a man’s thing,” Lucinda insisted and added, “You do look most peculiar intertwined like that.”

Miss Pattimore groaned, “Oh Lucy I am on fire,” she said, “Please forgive me,” and she kissed me passionately on the neck.

“Oh god its disgusting you two playing at lovers when you only met an hour ago,” Lucinda protested as she rose to leave, “If you want me I’ll be in the garden.”

Her going opened the door and suddenly we were surrounded by voyeurs. “Unhand her you brute,” someone cried and something hit the back of my head forcing me deeper into Miss Pattimore which in turn made her cry out in pleasure.

“He forced me mama!” she exclaimed.

“So why are you smiling and gasping in ecstasy?” an elderly gentleman enquired, “And you boy, you had better make her an offer and damn quick if you want to survive the end of today.”

“Father!” Miss Pattimore insisted, “I don’t even know him.”

“Well he certainly knows you in a biblical sense!” my father interjected misjudging the mood of the assembled throng as per usual and so he alone ended laughing at his feeble joke.

I own I was enjoying our dalliance to some excess, my cock sliding so smoothly in her well lubricated hole, the tip of my cock just nudging the neck of her womb at each thrust exciting me to the utmost until my mind exploded and my seed burst forth once more in a torrent to flood her parts.

“Damn you all,” Miss Pattimore exclaimed, “You know I want to be a missionary, how can I be a missionary if I’m with child?”

I looked round as I wiped my cock. “Did you plan this?” I demanded.

My father grinned like the idiot he was.

“You planned this?” Mr Pattimore interjected, “By heaven sir I’ll have you black balled from every club in London for this!” and he grabbed father by the throat.

“Stop them!” Lucinda cried.

“Ha,” I snorted, “Let them fight,” and I took Miss Pattimore’s hand and knelt before her, “Will you have me?”

“I just did,” she giggled, “Oh I suppose so, if only to keep Mama happy, my name is Camilla by the way.”

“James,” I said, “Pleased to meet you.”

We watched our respective father's feeble attempts to harm each other until our respective mothers pulled them apart and then we went to my room to talk. Fortunately we found plenty to talk about before she expressed a desire to inspect my member and having inspected it she kissed it and with it back to full extension she insisted I speared her anew.

I for my part wished to explore her breasts and I marvelled at the way her teats rose when I kissed them and the softness of her skin.

"James," she said, "I own you are much nicer than my hand brush, do you think you can love me?"

"I own I already do," I admitted.

So we were wed, a big ceremony in the church near where she lived, her father found us a very nice house near the university and at the reception in the parish hall my mother gave me the best present on all.

“James,” she said, “See that fine upstanding chap in the dark suit with the woman in the ridiculous hat?”

I looked, he looked familliar, she continued, “He’s your real father, he used to be our estate foreman, very clever, very tender, nothing like the idiot I married.”

I stared, suddenly it all made a lot of sense. “And my brothers?” I asked.

She smiled, “Forbes the Ostler and Jameson the under Butler if I remember correctly, there have been so many you understand, and your father prefers gentlemen anyway so it suits us both very well, it why I was so pleased to see you enjoying yourself with dear Camilla.”

A great weight fell from my shoulders, that fear that I should sire stupid sons the like of miniature versions of father destined to fail at every challenge in life and prove thorough disappointments was lifted in a moment, and the last obstacle to frequent and joyous copulation with Camilla was dispelled.

Sadly Lucinda was left outcast. She had lost her slave but I fancied it would not be long before she found another girl but a very long time before she found a man with a desire for a great fat, rotund, porcine lump with breasts a Jersey cow could be proud of. Perhaps you are that special one?

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