tagLetters & TranscriptsStories from the Past

Stories from the Past

byTonyDowse©

Having long had a more than passing interest in some of the erotica from the Victorian times - those who have read 'The Pearl' and similar works will know what I mean - this is my attempt at capturing some of the mix of mannered gentility and bawdy raunchiness that one often finds there - without what seems to have been their obsession with spankings and beatings...

LETTERS from the PAST



I think I'm right in saying that the one thing we all - or at least most of us - find difficult to think about is the idea of our parents actually having sex.

Obviously we know by our own existence that they did - but the fact that they might have done more than merely copulate with the intention of conceiving a baby somehow seems an idea that's very hard to come to terms with.

But if that's true - then what about our grandparents, just try imagining those people doing anything beyond the bounds of purely procreational activities, if you can!

My grandfather was just about to turn 96 when he died, and as by then both of my parents had already passed away and my brother and sister had very little interest in anything except what bit of cash the old man might have left them, I elected to take on the task of doing the physical disposal of the furniture and personal stuff in his house.

The first few days were both reasonably easy and completely uneventful; merely clearing out the contents of cupboards and drawers and sorting the furniture into things that were potentially valuable enough to warrant having them sent to auction, then having a local charity pick up what was left. With all that done I started going through the relatively large pile of papers and documents I'd amassed - some of which looked sufficiently old or interesting to put to one side, while the others went straight into a couple of good-sized garbage bags.

It was only when I had all but finished, and was feeling rather good about having got it done much more quickly than I had anticipated, that I remembered that the house also had a basement. In one way it wasn't surprising that I had forgotten it, because as kids we had always been forbidden to even open the door that led off the space beneath the staircase to the upper floor. So it was with a bit of still remaining childhood nervousness that I took the key from the hook beside that door, opened it, and peered down into the pitch blackness of whatever was below.

However, there was of course a light switch and once illuminated, although the air was dry and dusty, I headed down. Because the house had been partially built back into the slope of the land, the brick-floored space was comparatively small, taking up no more than perhaps a quarter of the total area of the building above me, in effect one, medium sized room.

There was in fact very little left of whatever had at some time been stored down there; a few odds and ends of long-disused sporting equipment, a couple of empty wooden crates, a number of equally empty appliance packing cases, and, tucked into the darkest corner, beneath still more empty boxes, one small, old and very travel-battered trunk.

Although the trunk wasn't overly heavy, it obviously wasn't empty and I was naturally intrigued as to why this single, still apparently usable item should have been treated in such a way - so rather than try to open it and examine whatever it contained in such an ill-lit space, I dragged it behind me, up the stairs.

It was of course locked and even though my grandfather's key-ring held what looked like the appropriate key either it wasn't, or what I thought more likely, the locks themselves had merely rusted in place. But although sturdily built the trunk hadn't been designed to cope with modern-day tools and it wasn't too long before I had taken the hinges off the back of the lid, and lifted it open to see exactly what was inside.

There were in fact just several brown-paper wrapped parcels, each one securely sealed with brown, pre-gummed paper strips.

So much care had obviously been taken in neatly wrapping and securing each of the parcels that I felt sure that whatever they contained had at some time been very important to someone, so rather than merely tearing into them I placed them side-by-side on the table then carefully snipped off the strips sealing the end of each one.

The first contained a uniform; a soldier's uniform - by the look of it dating from the First World War. A very much smaller parcel was much more perplexing; containing a very strange looking item that might have been some sort of under-garment - apparently for a woman!

Beneath those had been one containing three mounted and framed sepia-toned photographs; one showing a young man in uniform - perhaps the very one I had already unwrapped - another of an obviously attractive young woman, and another of the pair of them posing stiffly side-by-side.

At the very bottom had been the final parcel, which in turn contained what might have been an old shoe box - and inside it, letters!

There were so many of them I decided to wait until after I had eaten my evening meal, then settle myself down with a nice bottle of wine and take my time in reading whatever they contained. And as it turned out I was really glad I had, reading those letters took me well into the night. And even though all this took place several years ago, whenever the circumstances are brought back to mind, the content of those letters continues to have the same affect on me that they did then.

When I first began I couldn't help but be totally confused - they were from a woman called Annabelle, to a man, presumably my grandfather, named George - but each letter seemed to be written with two quite separate beginnings and closings! It was only after I had scanned three or four that I realised what must have been going on.

If I took the first and last pages from a letter, it read unbrokenly - and its contents were exactly the sort of friendly chit-chat that a young woman from those far-away times might write to a male friend. But the pages I had removed were completely and utterly different - not only were they exactly the sort of thing a young woman would never, ever put down on paper, but, and certainly in those days, it was probably supposed that she could not even ever think such things!

Having worked out her system and made sure the letters were all in date order, I put aside the parts that were presumably written to be passed around the family, and settled back to slowly read my way through the others - which proved to be a private, if only one-sided, account of what had been going on in the now presumably long-gone Annabelle's life.

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Dearest George, How strange it seems to be addressing you so familiarly - but, after that sweetest of kisses we shared, how so very, very appropriate. You are my Dearest - and I hope and pray that I am yours. Looking back at how quickly we have grown to know each other I am surprised that I allowed you to take such a liberty so soon, but I have to admit - albeit blushingly! - that it gladdens my heart that I did so! I also have to admit that sometimes, if I close my eyes and think very hard, I am certain I can still feel my lips tingling with the echo of that kiss. And although I know it is very wickedly forward of me to say so, I do hope that I will not have to wait too long to feel the reality again. This idea of yours, that we should write our letters within something we can, if we have to, show to our loved ones, is extremely clever - I will just have to find a very safe place to secrete the 'real' letters from you. Of which I hope there will be very many! I like very much the sweet and candid comments you make about me, and us - so do not be hesitant in writing whatever comes into your mind. Your (hopefully) Dearest, Annabelle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Dearest George, Yes, 'Dearest, Darling Girl' is a very nice way for you to open a letter to me - I totally approve! And I am glad that you too can remember that first kiss - hopefully we both always will. But the news that you are coming down to visit us for the week-end is much, much more important than even that thought - and I am ashamed to admit that this Darling Girl's poor heart is fluttering at the prospect of seeing you - and hopefully of not just 'seeing' you! Your Dearest, Annabelle.

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Oh, Dearest, What have you done to me? How can I possibly wait who knows how many weeks before I again feel those wonderfully heavenly things you have shown me my poor body is capable of? And how will I ever again be able to go on another picnic without shivering at the thought of the feelings I felt with you? How I wish I had not wasted so much of our limitedly precious time by being such a foolishly timid girl when you first tried to do anything more than merely kiss me. How many more wonders might you have shown me - how many more times might I have experienced that blissful ecstasy you gave me. Just thinking about your hands - those wonderfully, softly strong hands, and your gently dextrous fingers - sets me trembling, and, I blush to admit, sets a certain very private part of me quivering. Make the days pass like lightning, I yearn for your kisses - and those other miraculous things you do... Your Darling, Annabelle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Dearest, What a fool I am! Why did it not occur to me that I too could do something of what your hands did for me? It took a little bit of courage to try it the first time, and perhaps my shameful nervousness precluded a happy result. But I persisted and tried again - with much greater success! The feelings I now experience, although sweet, are still nothing to compare with those I felt with you - but, as you so rightly said, they do somewhat diminish the pressure within me when - and I feel myself blushing as I admit this - I have felt myself yearning achingly for your touch. Please tell me how these kinds of feelings affect you? Your Darling Annabelle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Dearest, It was only after I had enclosed and forwarded my previous letter to you that I began to think much more deeply about the matter of what you have shown me my body is capable of. Until then I think my poor female brain was just too overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experiences you have led me to...!!! However, I think I now have a much clearer insight into the cause of my initially confused bewilderment, and believe that as you had already shown me such considerated kindness you will not object too strongly to my sharing at least a little of those thought processes with you.

I know it must seem strange that a country-girl like me professes to know so very little about such things, but it is true. Although I suppose that because we have the example of what our various animals must do in order to produce their young I must have always known the basics of procreation, in my own mind that had always been somewhat removed from what we of the 'higher order' might need to do. As I said, I am very foolishly ignorant about these, and no doubt, many other things... If what you have told me is true - and of course I have no reason to doubt you - one of the things I have been oblivious to is that we humans are capable of experiencing pleasure during the act of procreation. You must admit that given the howling, bellowing and caterwauling one hears from the females of the various species, that is not a fact that would naturally occur to a young country woman such as myself.

Certainly it is not an idea that had ever entered this poor things head!

You must also agree that the idea that our bodies are capable of experiencing pleasure from those parts of us that are always considered to be the most private is a very strange one. And I will desist from commenting on the apparent peculiarity of the fact that such pleasures should be concentrated around those parts that are otherwise used for carrying out the most 'filthy' of human processes... So, I think I may, in at least some part, be forgiven for my otherwise apparent silliness - I do so much hope so, at least by you my Dearest. But even so, and even after the benefit of your above explanations, the idea that we are capable of experiencing at least a little of those pleasures without performing that actual act, does, at least to me, at first seemed to verge on the fringes of some sort of blasphemy. But, having now experienced a little of the proof of it, and having heard and agreed with your words of undoubted wisdom that - 'If the good Lord had not wanted us to experience such things, he would not have made us in the way He has' - I bless my good fortune in having met someone of such knowledge and understanding as yourself.

However, unless you can explain even more about such things in your letters I fear that the next time we meet I would need us to waste much of that precious time in getting you to do so. Your Darling Annabelle.'

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Dearest Knowledgeable and Most Erudite George, What revelations you have given me!!! It was just a pity that the need for us to keep these personal writings short enough to be concealed within our 'proper' letters has meant you have had to deal with these matters so briefly. However, hopefully you will expand on the detail as our 'messengers of love' flutter to and fro between us.

Perhaps you should consider producing a small tract, or pamphlet that incorporates the totality of all this 'secret' information - I am quite sure there are very many still totally ignorant young women like myself, who would pay handsomely to obtain a copy. Though I admit I am not quite sure how you could distribute it - perhaps word of mouth would be sufficient. But enough of such purely crassly commercial thoughts - to us...

I have tried, as you suggested, to clear my mind of all feelings of guilt or self-reproach before I begin my 'exercises' - as you called them. At first that was extremely difficult - I fear I have been subjected to too many years of a proper and lady-like upbringing. But in time, I have become much more successful at doing so - and once again your advice has proved to be absolutely correct - the heavenly results are now much more easily arrived at! That 'pleasure-bud' - as you so accurately described it - now seems to pop its head up almost on command. And, I am almost shamed to admit, sometimes does so even when it has not been so ordered... I find that sometimes the mere recollection of your dear face, and especially the thought of those soft, magical hands, brings it somewhat uncomfortably back to life! What is even more difficult to cope with is the moisture that now seems to leak from me - from my 'cunny' as you call it - at the most inappropriate times. Although I very much enjoy that state of approaching 'arousal' - as you described it - my main fear is that these developments will not fully escape the laundry-maid's ever vigilant eyes.

But enough of me - what you have so far failed to tell me is what in fact I have previously asked you - how do similar feelings affect you?' Your Darling Annabelle.'

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'My Dearest Darling, Once again I cannot believe just what a stupid woman I must seem to be to you. Why is it that my imagination is so limited that I could not answer at least some of my question to you, myself? Of course you would be able to produce similar sensations for yourself as I can for me. As I said, you have found yourself just a silly and unimaginatively dull-witted girl - I just pray and trust you will be patient with her.

I suppose that somewhere inside me I must have 'known' that before copulating a man's prick must stiffen in the way the animals' do - I will remember that once that has happened you like to think of your member as a 'cock' - and I too think that is a much more powerful word! But just as I had never imagined that congress itself could be pleasurable, I suppose it had never occurred to me to think that what is necessary to enable a man to perform that function could also be effected at other times. And unfortunately that is yet another example of both my ignorance, and lack of imaginative thinking!

However, I am just so pleased that you can produce similar results for yourself - it makes what I am doing when alone with my thoughts of you, seem just that much less selfish. Now, although of course I have no way of actually visualising it, while I am imagining it is your hands that are producing those delightful sensations for me, I can pretend I am doing my best to do similar things for you... And - again I find myself blushing at the mere thought of it - I am certain that if or when I actually do so, even if my unskilled hands prove to be less than totally satisfactory for you, at least I myself will find the results even more gratifyingly satisfying... You simply cannot imagine how thankful I am that you continue to be prepared to read my ignorantly pathetic questioning and respond to them with both patience and in such intimate detail.

There are so many more things I wish to say to you but I fear that once again space forces me to bid you adieu - with my kisses. Your Darling Annabelle.'

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'Oh joy and delight!!! What wonderful news - the mere notification of your proposed week long visit has set my entire body aflame! Just how indecorous can a young woman be??? But I also have news for you my Darling!

I have a dear - and absolutely trusted - friend, Miss Julia Newman. She is of an age with me, and, from our many extremely personal conversations, somewhat like-minded about modern matters. No, of course I have not shared the details of our letters with her - but I have confided that my feelings for you are rather more profound than my family understands them to be. She is very bright in these things and needed to know no more than that to 'get the message', as they say... Well, once I heard the details of your visit I spoke to Julia and said I wished that somehow I could arrange times and places where you and I could be together, somewhere far removed from all the usual prying eyes and flapping ears.

Now I know you will at first not believe this next bit of good fortune - but I assure you it is true. It seems that during the time you are to be here, her parents - she is an only child - are to visit her father's brother, for the same week! So, as both their cook and house-maid live out, Julia will actually have the house to herself for much of that time. She assures me she can rearrange the women's various times off to coincide with each other, and then arrange to visit some of her other friends during those hours.

So my Darling, there will be several times when the house will be empty - thus providing us with opportunities to be alone together - alone, and in a place that is absolutely securely private...!!! Just the thought of it is making my cunny wet, warm and extremely tingly - I hope my news has had a similar affect on you, and particularly on your prick - or has that already turned into a cock? Oh I do so very much hope so! I can't tell you how wicked I feel in just writing those words - but I have to admit that I like that feeling!!! So much so that I have decided that during the few days you are here I will still continue to write these communications to you, merely holding them until you have once again left me. In that way, before I forward them to you I will be able to relive, no matter how ineffectually, the blissful times I am now certain we will have spent together. Your Darling Annabelle.'

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byTonyDowse© 2 comments/ 11835 views/ 1 favorites

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