A Summer Holiday

As I put pen to paper on this cold November evening in the year 193_, my failing body gratefully absorbs the heat of the roaring fireplace in my drafty study. This diminishing corpus of mine has experienced incredible depths of joy, yearning and passion over the many years of its existence, but now all that is left are the memories. It is to preserve these beyond the expiration of this shrinking clay that I have begun this transcription.

My adventures have been such that they needed be carried out with the utmost discretion. The societal mores of the time, indeed of the present time, would have required that those who participated in them, including myself, be subjected to the harshest censure. The scandals would have destroyed my means of livelihood, as well as blackened the reputations of those participants whose sensuality and love of pleasure were surely the business only of themselves; not the business of those whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to prevent others from enjoying what they themselves could not have.

The names, places and dates have been changed in order to protect those involved. Some will attempt to determine my identity by analysing the internal evidence of these writings, but they will gain nothing from these data. Some of the relationships have been altered, and indeed some of the events have been constructed from happenings that occurred on more than one occasion, although none of them were made from whole cloth. This serves the double purpose of obscuring any evidence that might identify these events or myself, and of creating a more titillating story. I make no apologies for this; the purpose of these writings is not to provide a historical document, but to allow an old man to relive the parts of his life which caused him the greatest pleasure and perhaps to give some pleasure to those who read them after his departure from this mortal coil.

As I begin my writing of these reminisces, I have no idea how long they will continue. My criteria for continuing to record them are that they are of interest to me and that I can remember them well enough to do them justice. And of course, my ability to keep the Grim Reaper at bay.

I have arranged with my solicitors in London to take each tale as I finish it and keep it in confidence. Whatever I have finished when death overtakes me shall be gathered together and kept private until the year 2000, the birth of a new millenium. At this time, all involved shall be dead and the stories may be released. I hope that these manuscripts shall see a more sexually enlightened era, one that will find amusement at the posturing and hypocrisy of the era in which I was forced to live my life.

I hope it; but I doubt it.

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I arrived in the village of Stansted on June 13, 187_. The train trip from London had been most enjoyable; I had shared a compartment with a lovely young lady and her governess. After some initial awkwardness, the conversation with the young lady had become pleasantly animated and the aunt had joined in. A few attempts at flirting with the younger of my two companions had come to naught, but the governess' attitude toward me had been quite bold. I felt that had I been alone with her in different circumstances, our relationship would have taken a more intimate course. As it was, I had to leave them both on the train, though not before obtaining the address of the young lady against a possible future visit to her parents' estate in H_. Ah, well.

My journey to Stansted was for the purpose of spending the summer on the estate of Lady Martha, my mother's sister, and her husband John, an entrepreneur of no small success. Though Uncle John's business concerns were mostly in London, Stansted was close enough that he was able to spend considerable time on his estate, although protracted stays in London were not unheard of. My parents, Edward and Katherine A, with whom I usually spent my summers while attending Cambridge, had embarked upon a combination pleasure and business cruise to some of their holdings in the colonies; they would be gone until after I was due back at University in the fall.

As I disembarked from the train, I espied Aunt Martha on the platform. She smiled warmly when she saw me and I strode forward to give her a brief hug and peck on the cheek.

"Alfred," she exclaimed, as she held me at arms' length as though to take a better look at me, "it's so good to see you! I was beginning to think my sister was deliberately keeping you to herself, although I can't really blame her. "

"It's good to see you as well, Aunt Martha," I replied, pleased with her enthusiastic greeting.

"Williamson," she said to a middle aged man who had been standing discreetly behind her, "please see to Mr. A_'s baggage."

"Yes M'Lady," replied the fellow as he touched his cap and turned to the task.

The carriage ride to the estate was pleasant, and was filled with the exchange of minutiae that was common between two relatives who had had little communication for some time. In due course we turned into the gates to the estate and drove up a winding cobblestone path flanked by towering oaks which provided shade at all times of the day. The fragrance from the flowerbeds surrounding the house produced a feeling of well being that bode well for a pleasant stay.

As we alighted from the carriage, Aunt Martha turned to Williamson and said, "Put Mr. A_ in the Blue Room, Williamson."

Williamson touched his cap and began to unload the luggage.

Aunt Martha touched my arm lightly. "When you've freshened up, come down to the garden for drinks with Uncle John and me. He's looking forward to seeing you."

I said that I would and followed Williamson through the front door and up the winding staircase.

The Blue Room was quite pleasant, with large windows; a door that opened onto a small patio; and a closet that I fancied was as large as the small dormitory room to which my undergraduate status had relegated me. The décor was of course blue; curtains, bedspread and carpet; even a reproduction of Gainsborough's Blue Boy on the wall above the bed.

As I was perusing the clothing in the closet for attire appropriate to the occasion, I noticed what appeared to be a small gouge about shoulder high in the back of the closet in the right hand corner. Upon closer inspection however, I discovered it to be quite deep. I put my eye to it and found that it went all the way through the wall and gave a view of the room next door. I could see that it was a bedroom, but I saw nothing except for the bed, part of a nightstand and the window on the opposite wall. Supposing that some careless servant had caused the damage without informing his employer for fear of reprimand, I resolved to tell my uncle about it.

As I entered the garden, my uncle rose with a large smile on his ruddy face and came toward me, holding out his hand with the appearance of great pleasure at my arrival.

"Alfred my boy!" he boomed. "Welcome! Good to see you!"

"Good to see you, too, Uncle," I responded, taking the proffered hand. "I'd like to thank you and Aunt Martha for inviting me to spend the summer with you."

"Not at all!" he exclaimed. "Our pleasure! We don't get to see you that often and it's a treat to have you."

After having gotten my drink preference, he conveyed it to a maid who was standing next to my aunt and steered me to a chair that faced both of my hosts. We chatted happily over the drinks and brought everyone up with the family happenings including a minor scandal involving the pregnancy of a young schoolgirl who was sent away to be cared for by the matriarch of the family.

A light summer dinner followed the preprandial libations; later a good wine mixed with convivial conversation produced a pleasant, relaxed state that was most enjoyable. When we finally said good night, I felt that the summer had gotten off to a most salutary start.

As I began undressing for bed, I thought I heard voices coming from the closet. Puzzled, I investigated and found that they were coming from the hole in the closet wall. Entering the closet fully, I pulled the doors to and put my eye to the hole. To my great surprise, I saw that the room into which the hole gave belonged to my aunt and uncle! Fascinated, I continued to watch and shortly was greeted by the arrival of my aunt removing her dress; she remained clothed in her bodice and knickers. The sight apparently did more than fascinate my uncle; he shortly came up behind her, put his arms around her and cupped her breasts. She closed her eyes with a small smile on her face and leaned her head backward as my uncle began to nuzzle her neck and massage her breasts. I had been aware that my aunt was an attractive woman, of course; but the sight of her in her underthings with her breasts being massaged produced in me a reaction that I had never considered receiving from my mother's sister. A shock went from the base of my spine upward and my manhood leaped forward creating a slightly uncomfortable bulge in my pants. I attempted to remove my pants while keeping my eye pressed against the hole, but this produced a ridiculously awkward situation; I removed my eye from the hole while quickly, but quietly, disrobing.

When I returned my eye to the hole, I found that things had progressed apace. My aunt's bodice had been discarded and uncle was massaging her naked breasts from behind. They were indeed magnificent, with large dark aureoles, and the nipples distended magnificently. As I watched, she moved forward, pulled the covers down from the bed, got into it and moved to the opposite side. As she did this, uncle was removing his pants and shoes with alacrity and soon had gained the position next to her. His head bent over her and he began sucking the nipple of her right breast while he massaged her left breast with his hand. Her hands clasped behind his head and urged his mouth to greater motion. Her head went back and small moans began to escape from deep in her throat.

At this point I answered my member's insistent demands for attention and grabbed it with my right hand, slowly stroking it up and down while watching the erotic play unfolding in the next room. My breathing began to increase in frequency and volume and I had to consciously suppress it for fear of discovery.

My aunt removed her left hand from behind her husband's head and reached down between them to grasp his manhood. As she did so, he gave a deep moan and she began stroking it up and down vigorously. Thus inspired, he moved his right hand over her knickers between her legs, and began to massage her mound of Venus. As she opened her legs and turned toward him to assist him, her moans began to come more frequently and loudly. My own stokes began to come faster and I had to prop myself against the back wall of the closet with my left hand to keep my weakening knees from betraying me and pitching me onto my face. Suddenly my uncle pulled himself back, grabbed her knickers and quickly stripped them down and threw them onto the floor. As he crawled between her legs, she grabbed her knees and pulled them back toward her chest. When he was in position, she reached down to grasp his member and helped him guide it into her moist sheath. He slowly began to push forward but she suddenly thrust her hips up and buried him to the hilt; moans of pleasure escaped both of them simultaneously. He began to thrust vigorously as she wrapped her legs and arms around him; it seemed as though she was trying to get as much of him inside her as possible. As they moved together toward climax, my pressure was building and I was having difficulty maintaining my vigil at the view port. Finally my aunt climaxed with a loud moan which inspired my uncle to follow suit shortly thereafter.

I removed my eye from the hole, dropped to my knees as quietly as I could and continued the rapid stroking which soon resulted in a powerful eruption that left me shuddering and gasping for breath. When my breath had quieted, I rose on shaky legs and peered through the hole. The lamp had been extinguished and I could make out nothing but indistinct mounds on the bed. I reversed my previous resolve to tell my uncle about the hole. Obtaining a cloth, I cleaned the closet and myself and reflected that, as I had thought earlier, summer had indeed gotten off to a salutary start.

When I awoke the next morning, I discovered that my manhood had arisen before me. Visions of the erotic demonstration I had witnessed the night before had dominated my dreams and were still swirling in my head. My subconscious had taken liberties with reality and in many of the dreams I had taken the role of my uncle. The thought of my aunt's lush body shuddering beneath my own was the final straw; I quickly took matters into my own hand until I again emptied my reservoir of love juice.

I went downstairs and found no one in the dining room or morning room, so I went into the kitchen in search of something with which to break my fast. There I found a maid, the one who had served us in the garden the previous evening. She looked up as I came in and I said,

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Mister A_," she said with a smile. "I'm Linda. Lady Martha has instructed me to tell you that she and your uncle will be gone until afternoon and that I am to serve your breakfast."

Linda was a plump, cheerful looking girl with auburn hair and soft, luscious curves. Her breasts pressed against her bodice in an enticing fashion and the top two buttons of her dress were discreetly unfastened. She stood in a way that put extra weight on one leg and caused a slight but delectable pressing of her hip against her dress. I felt a faint stirring in my loins, but because of my activities before coming downstairs, the effect was not noticeable.

"Thank you, Linda," I replied, smiling. "I hope you're ready for some work, because I have quite an appetite."

"I'm sure that I'll be able to prepare anything you want. The larder is well stocked and my instructions are that your needs come before my regular duties."

I wasn't sure whether she was flirting, or whether the events of the previous night had given a lascivious patina to everything, so I gave her my breakfast order and went into the patio to enjoy the morning air.

The breakfast was delicious and plentiful and I thanked Linda for her efforts. Having nothing better to do, I strolled around the house remembering the trips my family used to make to visit Aunt Martha and Uncle John. Soon I became a little drowsy and went into the parlour to take a nap.

When I awoke about an hour later, I wandered into the kitchen looking for something to drink. Finding no one there, I helped myself to some milk from the icebox. As I stood drinking it, I heard faint sounds coming from the next room. The door was slightly ajar and thinking that there was another servant working there, I went over and pushed the door a little more open. I was taking a drink of milk and barely kept it from spurting from my nose as I reacted to the sight that greeted me. There on one of the cane chairs in the small room was Linda. Her back was at a slight angle to me but I could see well enough to tell that she had her dress pulled up and her right hand was between her legs vigorously massaging her clitoris. I stared motionless for a few seconds, then a determination stole over me. The previous night I had stood and watched while others had pleasured themselves but today I was to be a participant, not a voyeur.

Setting the milk glass quietly down on the counter, I stole behind her and stood watching over her shoulder for a few seconds. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open slightly and her breath was coming quickly. Her legs were spread widely and public hair was slightly damp as her middle and forefingers made rapid circular motions over her love button. In one movement, I moved around her and thrust my hands between her legs, moving her hand out of the way and replacing it with my right hand. She gave a small scream, then tried to push my hand away. I was to have none of that; I put my left arm around her back to hold her and inserted my middle finger into her quim, moving it rapidly.

"No, please!" she gasped. "No, I don't want to. Please leave me alone."

"You don't want to?" I asked incredulously. "What were you doing when I came in? It didn't look like someone who didn't want to." My finger had encountered no maidenhead, so I knew she was no virgin. I moved my finger up and started to massage her clitoris.

"No, not with a man! I don't want a child!" She choked this out, but a small shudder occurred when she finished.

"There are ways to prevent children," I said

"I can't take that chance," she wailed.

My member had gained its full volume and was chaffing at its confinement. I picked her up and laid her on the table. Holding her down with my left hand, I pulled down my trousers with my right. I knew that I would have to get some looser trousers, or risk serious injury at some time when removing my trousers would prove impossible or inadvisable. I pulled the chair up to the table, sat on it and pulled her toward me; pushing her legs up, I slid my arms under them. I brought my hands around to her mound, held her hands away with my left while separating her labia with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and thrust my tongue at her love button. A gasp interrupted her protestations and I set to performing cunnilingus with a passion. Her clitoris was greatly distended and was reddish purple, which enflamed me even more. Soon her hips began to thrust at my mouth and all of the protestations vanished. I released her hands and she put them on top of my head to urge me on. I needed no such urging, but applied my tongue to her button with vigor unmatched. Shortly she began to shudder and then climaxed with a squeal as she arched her back, lifting her shoulders off of the table. As she subsided, I slowed the action of my tongue, but still produced a number of tremors. Finally she gently pushed my head away and I sat back in my chair.

I got up and leaned over her and kissed her deeply. She responded languidly.

"You see," I said, "not a chance for a child."

She smiled. "I've been wanting to find a man who will do that for me for a long time," she said. "Two of my lovers agreed to at the start, but eventually insisted on penetration." She sat up, looked down at the projection from my loins, and giggled. "I see that you have some business that needs resolution. Sit down in the chair."

I sat in the chair and she kneeled before me. She took my manhood in her hand and slowly stroked it. It was so sensitive that I jumped. She smiled slightly, then gently licked the underside. I moaned and arched my back, thrusting my hips toward her. She slowly slid it into her mouth and began moving her head up and down. The sensation was so exquisite that I felt that I would climax, but she made a circle of her thumb and middle finger at the base of my root and squeezed. Instantly the urge to climax was gone and she resumed sliding it in and out of her mouth. She then started to rub her tongue on the underside, causing sensations that almost brought me off of the chair. The movement of my member in and out of her soft, moist mouth, coupled with the friction of her tongue on the most sensitive part of that organ, soon sent me inalterably toward climax. The pressure built up steadily until I put my palms flat on the chair, brought my hips up into her face, arched my back, and exploded into her mouth. As the second and third loads of love juice were pumped into her mouth, she swallowed mightily and was able to consume all but a slight trickle that flowed onto her chin. She kept my manhood in her mouth as it subsided and I relaxed back into the chair. When she finally let me out of her mouth, she laid her cheek on my thigh with a small, self-satisfied smile on her lips; a smile that was well deserved indeed. I left Linda with mutual professions of desire to continue our oral ecstasies.