David Shaw, Victorian Messenger Ch. 07byThorilla©
(It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 joined 'Maynard and Son, Purveyors to Gentlewomen and the Aristocracy' on Upper Richmond Road, Putney. The job involved providing 'underskirt services' to single women. This was my fourth day with the firm)
After my session with Mrs. Langley I arrived back at Maynard's and had some lunch with two other fellows.
"My word Shaw you were lucky with Mrs. Langley. She can be a vicious bitch at times when she's in a foul mood. She almost bent my back last time I went to pleasure her but she was wearing riding boots at the time," said Eric Treadwell, one of Mr. Maynard's older 'underskirt boys'.
Lorna gave me an address and was told that it was not far away, in Putney to be precise, and I decided to walk there.
I knocked on the door of a modest two story terraced house in Galveston Road, Putney and was met by a young maidservant. She took my card and bade me take a seat in the front parlour. I looked at the framed prints of views of the Thames and at the Aspidistra growing in an elaborate china bowl, on a similar china plinth in the bay window. The wallpaper was pale green with a Gothic floral motif on it at regular intervals. The house was neat and clean.
I heard footsteps, and then an elegant middle aged woman appeared at the door. I stood up, cap in hand and waited for her to speak.
"That will be all for the day Ruby, you may go now, thank you." She said to her maid. I watched as Ruby collected her things and changed into her outdoor boots, put on her coat, opened the front door and left. I watched her cross the road and walk briskly down the street.
"Right young man I am Miss. Sumpter and if you must know, I am a teacher at a school close by. You need not know any other details except that I have never married and prefer an independent life. Do you understand?" she asked.
"I understand perfectly," I said stuttering badly. I had always feared teachers for some odd reason but I think this may be due to the fact that I seldom excelled at school.
"Well that is good. You may also wish to know that I have used the services of Maynard and Son for several years and have always found their 'underskirt boys' courteous and obliging. Do you understand?"
I blinked as if I were being interrogated but understood that she was expecting me to be courteous and obliging too.
"Yes Miss. Sumpter, I do understand," I spluttered and smiled insanely at her. I felt my knees begin to tremble as I stared into her hawk like eyes which fixed me with a steady gaze. I felt as if she was reading my very thoughts and felt strangely afraid.
"Would you care for a cup of tea first?" she enquired and I told her that I would. Inside me, I felt more in need of a stiff drink to steady my nerves.
I watched her turn and leave the room. She wore a white cotton blouse with a high collar, lacy jabot and long sleeves decorated with pin-tucks. She wore a dark grey tweed skirt which was extremely full at her ankles. As she moved I heard the familiar sound of frou-frou from her silk-taffeta petticoats which she clearly wore under her clothes. Her light brown hair was coiled into a spiral bun and her neck was long and appeared almost regal in the way that she held herself.
She returned to the parlour with two cups on a wooden tray. I drank my tea in haste, not wishing to spill any. She took her time and asked me about myself. I explained that it was only my fourth day with Maynard's and didn't really have much experience with pleasuring women. I decided to be honest as I would then have an excuse if I failed to provide satisfaction.
I looked at the framed view of London Bridge, which hung above the mantelpiece.
"Then we must teach you mustn't we?" said Miss Geraldine Sumpter who now, I thought, looked about 35 years of age.
"If you would be so kind Miss," I said to her, deliberately putting on a 'little boy lost' expression in order to appear less threatening, when secretly I already imagined her screaming the house down with my tongue massaging her clitoris.
Miss Sumpter put down her cup and asked me to follow her upstairs. I watched her wide arse sway from side to side and I noticed the merest hint of lacy petticoat hems peeping from below her wide skirt. I must admit that once again I felt my penis stiffen and would have gladly unbuttoned my flies and wanked myself senseless there and then. We walked into a pretty feminine bedroom at the front of the house. The room was dominated by a big brass bedstead which had been pushed in the corner furthest away from the window. The counterpane was made of white cotton trimmed with eyelet lace flounces.
"We'll just draw the curtains shall we, as I don't think the neighbours wish to see you naked do they?" she said in a 'down to earth' and 'matter of fact' tone of voice.
My brain churned inside my head at the thought of being naked in front of this intelligent, prim and smartly dressed woman. I imagined that she was probably an intellectual and was a follower of the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, or possibly a member of the Women's Trade Union League. My thoughts were bombarded with feelings of inadequacy and I felt my penis shrivel markedly.
"Here we are," she said shutting the front bedroom door behind me. "Will you take off your clothes?" she requested, although it sounded more like a command.
I nervously removed my jacket, shirt and trousers and stood before her wearing just my pants and vest.
"All off, please young man," she said and I was obliged to peel off my vest and step out of my underpants. Once again I felt small and puny in front of this woman who surveyed my frame and commented on my lack of muscles.
"Hmmm, there's not much of you is there?" she said and touched my penis which now began to stir, "Let me see your tongue."
I stuck out my tongue and almost touched my nose and chin with it.
This brought a sparkle into her eyes and she swallowed nervously. "Well you certainly have a long tongue for one so small and thin," she commented and I smiled at her with a knowing look.
I stole a glance at her bosom which was almost at eye level and longed to touch her shapely curves. She sensed me looking and reached for my hands and placed them on her heavy orbs. I was not used to touching women's breasts but instinctively massaged them, feeling their weight and her nipples against my fingers. My penis gradually extended so that it pushed horizontally into her heavy tweed skirt and slid upwards towards her waistband. The roughness of the material stimulated me further until it felt almost painfully stiff. My exposed glans were on fire and I yearned for a wank.
Miss Sumpter sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. I was told to draw up a small stool and place it near her feet.
"You will sit there please while I show you the various parts of the female anatomy," she exclaimed as if she were taking a class of school children.
I sat at her feet and she parted her legs to allow me to sit closer, which I did. I smelled her clothing which had the odour of flowers and perfumed laundry-water.
"Do not look so worried; I won't eat you," she said trying to put me at my ease. My erection filled my lap and pointed straight into her eyes. I found it almost impossible not to play with myself and wished that I was being seriously jerked off by this woman right there and then.
She lifted her grey tweed skirt to her waist and there before me lay an intricately decorated, very full lace trimmed petticoat made from white silk. It had an Alencon lace trim with Calais lace inserts at regular intervals. She pulled this up to reveal a second one of similar design but with fewer inserts. Beneath this lay a third petticoat this time ornamented with Point de Gaze lace of incredible fineness. This petticoat was almost transparent and I could see the outline of her black silk stockings and white silk drawers beneath.
I was almost hysterical with excitement and began to shake noticeably although I have to say that the room did feel chilly. In my naked state, at her feet, I craved body warmth and wanted nothing more than to have my torso covered by her skirt and petticoats.
Slowly she lifted the final petticoat and I watched, in awe, as her legs came into view.
Her legs looked strong and long; she had thick calves and her knees were well rounded. Over her stockings her white silk drawers ended in two overlapping lacy flounces which lay just above the knee. They were crotchless and I soon spied her ginger pubic curls which peeped out at me.
"There you are young man. Now what shall we show you first?" she said in her schoolmarm voice.
I wanted to tell her that I had a fair idea what the various parts were and what they did. I had discovered most of what I knew from Lady Onslow and her maidservants. I watched Miss Sumpter slide her arse to the edge of the bed and open her legs further. With her petticoats around her waist she looked every part a whore, whereas it was I who was being paid to perform a service for her.
"This is the clitoris," she said as she coaxed it out from beneath it's protective hood. "This is the most sensitive part of a woman and is many times more sensitive than the penis," she continued and asked me to touch her and finger her parts.
She explained how to stimulate her vagina and how many fingers to insert, and which movements she preferred, I understood that circular movements coupled with sliding of the digits in and out was her favourite means of self gratification. She asked me whether I had ever tongued a woman before. I explained that I had tongued several and had received nothing but praise from the ladies concerned. She appeared pleased and told me to lie on the floor on my back.
I found the carpet sufficiently soft enough to cushion my shoulders, arse and legs. As I stared up at her still sitting on the bed she smiled and stood up. Her skirt and petticoats fell back into place and she shook out all the various lacy folds, flounces and gathers. She threw me a pillow and told me to place it under my head which I did.
She stood over me, straddling my waist, and lifted my penis with her foot.
The sensation was exquisite and I reached down and caressed her ankles and toes. She ran her stockinged feet under my balls and between my thighs. My penis showed it's appreciation by stiffening even further, if that was at all humanly possible. I was rock hard and enjoying every minute of her foot massage.
She slid her other foot up the centre line of my stomach and onto my chest. I squirmed with sheer pleasure at each touch. What was it about being under a woman's foot which was so excruciatingly pleasurable and satisfying? She now stood astride my chest and her petticoats spilled out and frou-froued against my nipples. She caressed my chin and cheeks with one foot then the other.
My face would disappear under her skirt and petticoats from time to time then reemerge smiling like an imbecile. I touched the laciness with my tongue and tasted the frilliness and silky flounciness of her full undergarments. I knew that she was toying with me and playing with my senses. I now knew why she wished me naked as my penis indicated to her my sexual state and also her success in stimulating me beyond endurance.
She moved one foot then the other over my face placing the soles over my nose and mouth. Her feet smelled of perspiration and I guessed that she also found it agreeable and exciting having me beneath her.
I touched my penis and began to wank.
"Not just yet," she said and kicked my hand away. "You will pleasure me at the same time," she explained although I couldn't quite understand how.
For several more minutes she walked and stood over me. I was allowed to lick the stocking toes of both her feet which she inserted in my mouth one at a time. I looked up at her while her silk-taffeta petticoats swished and slid backwards and forwards over my upturned face. I tried to smile but I probably appeared as an idiot so I stared at her face through half closed eyes.
"I shall sit on your face now and you will use your tongue as instructed. Do you understand?" she said standing astride my neck with her skirt hem draped across my eyes.
I nodded and watched her open her knees and bend her legs. All around me she spread her petticoats and shook down the lace flounces until I was covered from the waist upwards by her under trappings.
She squatted squarely on my face and positioned her now wet vagina on my mouth. Shuffling forwards I felt the weight of her large thighs and wide arse push my head firmly into the pillow upon which I rested my head. Her odour was strong but fresh smelling. Her juices were flowing and they had the familiar sweet muskiness which I now recognised as 'fanny'.
All women smelled similar, I discovered, and as usual I felt intoxicated by it and was drawn to it as a magnet attracts iron.
I licked her outer lips and she flinched at every flick. I had found out that some women are more sensitive than others and Miss Geraldine Sumpter appeared to be incredibly responsive and I would have described her as being highly-sexed.
"Keep your tongue moving; Do you understand?" she said clearly already worked up.
It was quite dark inside her grey tweed princess-line skirt and petticoats and I was now free to practice all that I had learned during my four days with Maynard's.
I decide to wank myself to help me focus on Miss Sumpter's large fleshy vagina which gaped over me. All around me her petticoats swished and rustled as I probed her inner lips and slipped my tongue inside.
She flinched and grunted at every movement and soon she was responding to my tongue by wiping her dripping cunt over my face in sudden jerks and thrusts.
As I exposed her clitoris she cooed and moaned and warned me not to stop. From my position flat on my back her arse and fanny hung over me and filled my field of view. I looked up in wonder at her rounded womanly contours and at the way her underclothing swayed and shimmied with every little movement of her fanny which gripped my tongue.
I felt as if I were in heaven and continued wanking in time with my tonguing.
For many minutes we continued like this. I could not get enough of her warm hairy cunt which was splayed across my face. I felt that it was the only thing which existed in the room and tongued her mercilessly, concentrating on stimulating her clitoris. Her juices poured out of her and into my eye sockets bathing me with her strong odour and filling my nostrils with the overpowering scent of 'aroused woman'.
Soon she approached the final stage of her stimulation and I pushed her further, ever further, towards her orgasm. I, myself, was close to shooting my semen so held myself in check ready for the 'home straight', as it were.
By now Miss Sumpter's petticoats were a flurry of dishevelment and rustled around me as she rubbed her vagina violently up and down my face. I was truly drowning in her juices and savoured every second of it.
"Don't fucking stop my young friend," she screeched out at me, as her movements became more bestial and ferocious.
I could hardly keep up with her as she furiously wiped her pubic area savagely over my face. All around me her silk-taffeta petticoats frou-froued and crackled noisily and now I was finding it painful to be caught up in such a storm of unbridled female masturbation. Her swearing became more coarse and vulgar and even I was unused to some of her street-language.
"Keep that fucking tongue up my hairy snatch. Do you understand?" said the teacher who now appeared to be on the very brink and out of control.
I was now wanking at a furious pace and truly wished that my penis was inside this writhing woman and not my tongue.
Then it happened. She groaned, cursed then tightened her buttocks and 'came' with a shuddering shivering pulsating orgasm which gripped my tongue and spurted out more spendings.
At the same time I shut my eyes, clenched my teeth rammed my face up into the open crotch of her drawers, groaned and squirted out seven thrusts of warm semen over my stomach and her skirt.
She pushed my head away and said, "Enough, enough, please that's enough,"and slowly stood up.
I watched her slowly lift her arse off me and at her petticoats disappearing inside her long full skirt. Her knees cracked with the effort of standing and she looked down at me in a curious way.
"I apologise for my language. I'm afraid you were too much for me and I wanted you to continue and stop at the same time. We women are complex creatures as you no doubt know." I smiled up at her as she dropped a handkerchief on my chest to enable me to mop myself up.
The fluid seemed to have spread everywhere and I was thankful to have spurted it out when I did. She wiped herself with another handkerchief and she laughed at us both as we cleaned ourselves up.
"That was excellent my young friend; you appear to have a natural talent and I a very pleased, Do you understand?" she said shaking her skirt and petticoats down once more.
I got dressed and left the school teacher standing in the narrow hallway as I took my leave. She asked my name and I told her." I hope to see you again Mr. Shaw," she said and shut the door.
Back at Maynard's Tim Prentice had just returned from a 'job' at Mortlake.
"Two elderly sisters old enough to be my grandmothers," he said. "They wanted me to diddle them both while they played cards, then I diddled the housemaid, the cook and the scullery maid," he continued. "Maynard says that I can have the day off tomorrow or I'll end up diddling half of London."
I thought Tim Prentice was a very lucky chap.