I won Emma's Hoour in a card game, than Lydia offered herself instead, very strange
Lydia.
The train eased slowly into Radley Station, hissing impatiently, its huge connecting rod making lazy sweeps as it ambled past the waiting passengers.
I looked for the first class compartments, usually the first class carriage was the second from the engine but today was the third, I started to follow the train dodging waiting passengers until suddenly I saw them, Lord Munchester and his daughter, en route to London.
My informant was correct, I should send her a five pounds Postal Order as a thank you, Five Pounds was a lot of money to a Housemaid in 1924. But as nothing compared to the twenty thousand pounds in gambling debts which Muncaster owed me.
I sprinted at the door to their compartment and barged a Vicar out of the way to ensure I and only I was able to join them therein. For our American readers may I explain the carriage had full heigh partitions and six seats across the whole width of the carriage, Once inside one was trapped until the train stopped.
“Good God Ffarquarson, what in the deuce is the meaning of this?” Muncaster demanded as I flung the door wide and then blocked it to repel boarders.
“Doing a runner, or off to the bank to get my cash?” I enquired..
“Mummy said you’d been naughty.” the girl ventured. Nature had not been kind to her, her face followed her father rather than her mother and her father resembled a wart hog. Sort of filly who would get odds in region of 100 to 1 in the marriage stakes and neither was time on her side, Twenty One had come and gone long since.
“Business,” he explained.
“Monkey business I expect,” I ventured.
“Mummy said I was to keep an eye on him,” She ventured, “I’m Lydia but the way,” she suggested as she offerewd her hand for me to shake.
“And I am Ffarquarson, Graham Ffarquarson,” I ventured, “And I am very pleased to meet you.”
The train wheezed and hooted and lumbered out of the station next stop London 35 minutes away.
“So where is Emma?” I asked, Emma being the younger daughter and much courted as she had followed her mother for her looks.
“Daddy sent her to see Aunty Maude,” Lydia explained, “Why do you know her?”
“Your Daddy wagered her honour in a Poker match and lost,” I explained and paused to let the information sink in. “Though he did say “My most beautiful daughter” so I assumed he meant Emma, of course it may well be that you his most beautiful daughter Lydia, are you his most beautiful daughter Lydia? shall I take your honour instead?”
The poor girl blushed, I am no oil painting, but face aside I venture I am not below par, Thirty years having elapsed but I keep myself in trim, and ladies seldom have cause for complaint. I watched Lydia struggle with her concience. Good God, I mused, she fancies me. I swiftly realised her chances of marriage were well under par and without a dowry did not exist, perhaps she craved a good cocking.
“Say the word my dear and I shall cock you in her stead,” I suggested.
Her voice wavered, “ If it might spare poor Emma then I shall submit,” she answered.
“What let the Blaggard screw you, over my dead body,” the father insisted.
“Really, throw you daughters noble offer to sacrifice her honour in her face,” I mused, “It is your fault you are in this mess,” I reminded him.
We rattled over a junction, “So what is it to be?” I asked, “Shall we resolve the matter here and now Lydia, We have time and a half to copulate before arrival at London.”
“If you sign the debt is paid I shall submit to your lusts,” Lydia offered.
“Hold on old thing,” I cautioned, “I’m not exactly overcome with lust but I’ll leave you with a smile on your face I promise.”
She took a note pad and pen from her hand bag and said “I shall submit only if you sign this note to say the debt is paid.” and she swiftly wrote a note for me to sign.
I signed with a flourish.
“To business, turn your back father.” she said and standing she lowered her pantaloons and put them in her bag.
She raised her skirts. Her quim was quite pristine and her pubic hair neatly trimmed.
My fingers gently spread her labia and probed her soft moist quim, there was no maidenhead.
“You’re no Virgin!” I protested.
“Well, I sort of am,” she said, “ But then again I am not, I have urges so I use a candle.”
“Lydia for gods sake,” her father said angrily.
She still held her skirts, “Sit on the seat edge,” I ordered as I lowered my trousers. I knelt before her or tried to but there was no room for my feet.
“The heater is under your seat, if I sit there and you come here,” Lydia suggested
So we changed places. My member touched her quim. She reacted like I had stung her with a nettle but the slit glistened moistly, she was ready already.
My member needed no urging, he was straining at the leash and though the angels my feet adopted to fit under the seat was agonising it was nothing to the pleasure Lydia’s quim afforded me as I entered her. The pleasure softened her facial features. I kissed her. She kissed me and then we ground to a halt beside the Platform at West Ealing for an unscheduled stop. The 10.20 had been cancelled and we had stopped to pick up the remainders.
To be honest we barely noticed but apparently despite Lord Munchester’s best efforts three young women entered and then rapidly left our compartment, an elderly lady had a panic attack and a porter nearly burst a blood vessel when he saw us copulating.
For my part little this impinged on my pleasure, I suppose Lydia imagined it to be her sole opportunity to have children and she took every means at her disposal to get my seed deep into her womb. For my part I enjoyed the ride, and mused over whether it should became a regular event, after all she was unlikely to have many opportunities to be unfaithful.
With this in mind I shot every last drop of my cream deep into Lydia, the notion that I should pull out to spare her never crossed my mind.
I realised Lydia was screaming, “What is it?” I queried.
“She having a bloody orgasm you idiot!” Lord Munchester informed me icily.
Suddenly we were slowing for Paddington station. We made ourselves decent and stepped from the train.
“Where are you going?” Lydia asked.
“To my flat in Kensington, then to my club,” I replied.
“Can I come?” Lydia asked coyly.
“Why?” I asked.
“To carry on where we left off of course silly,” She said, “I usually spend an hour at least playing with my Candle.”
“That is utterly, outrageous!” Lord Munchester stormed.
“You sir are not invited,” I explained, “But Lydia I should be very pleased if you come with me, or do I mean cum with me?”
I kissed her, she kissed me, she held me close as I held her, and if the porter had not at that very instant removed the barrow we were adjacent to we should have fornicated once again oblivious to the torrent of passengers passing by.
“Do you like me, do I please you?” she asked.
“My dear Lydia,” I admitted. “I am a man, almost any woman would please me if she allowed me to conjugate with her.”
“Damn you,” she railed, “Did that mean nothing to you, what we did?”
“Yes, it was very pleasant,” I admitted.
“And do you want to to it again?” she tried.
“Why yes, of course,” I agreed.
“Well so do I, so can we please go to your house,” she pleaded.
“Of course,” I agreed. We sought a Taxicab and soon arrived at East Kensington Gardens.
My Housekeeper Mrs Jenkins let me in, “Another floosie in tow,” she observed.
“A young lady in heat no less,” I ventured, “Lydia, meet Mrs Jenkins and Mrs Jenkins meet Miss Lydia Ffarquarson, Miss Ffarquarson is a dear friend and she may be staying some considerable time.”
“Friend, pah, charge him by the hour dear,” Mrs Jenkins opined.
“She thinks you are a whore, a street walker,” I explained.
“I don’t think I’m pretty enough for that,” Lydia sighed.
“Lydia, when we conjoin you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” I explained.
“He tells all the girls that,” Mrs Jenkins explained
Lydia looked so sad, “Hey cheer up, my bed awaits,” I suggested, “Come upstairs.”
She wa s impressed with my four poster bed, I slowly undressed her and started by kissing her toes before working my way up to her belly button, temporarily avoiding her quim before starting on her now thoroughly erected teats.
She stripped off my shirt and trousers, extracted my member and as she laid back she guided him gently into her wanton quim.
A look of peaceful contentment spread across her face, “Do you like?” I asked.
“Yes, I like,” she agreed, “Don’t stop, its nice, I want it to last forever,”
“Do you want to make a baby?” I asked, “Or shall I pull out before I expell?”
“Make a baby,” she said, “Please!”
It took almost a half hour but finally we reached our moment and all true bliss devolved upon us as I emptied my balls completely and utterly.
“Cup of tea Sir?” Mrs Jenkins asked as she opened the door to deliver a tea pot and two cups.
“Go away,” I said sarcastically
“I thank you that’s very thoughtful,” Lydia answered politely.
I began to see Lydia in a new light.
“Unfortunately Lydia came without her luggage, can we find her a nightdress and underthings do you think?” I asked.
“Usually he gives them five bob and gets rid quick sharp,” Mrs Jenkins opined, “He must have a soft spot for you.”
Lydia smiled, she needed a man, any man and was determined to please me and that suited me absolutely fine. Much better to slide ones member easily into a willing cavern than have the transitory one time thrill of forcement into a virgin hole.
I left Lydia talking with Mrs Jenkins and went to my study. Somewhere I had a copy of the Karma Sutra, and I needed to do some serious research.