Sonia Takes a Stroll


"Now," said Sonia," we come to the last phase." "What?" asked Sid, as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of the entry to paradise. "You've got to get yer cock in," said Sonia. Sid, now flushed with his triumph, asked, "How? How?"

"Right," went on Sonia. "First, get yer hand out of me crumpet." Sid unwillingly complied. "Now this is tricky," continued Sonia. "Yer first move is to grasp the top of the panty hose and knickers." He did so. "Then give a sharp downward jerk, and with any luck they'll start to descend. Once past crumpet level, and if she ain't got soddin' great thighs, they might fall down round her ankles. If not, you'll have to drag 'em all the way down.

Sid carried out this field exercise with comparative ease, especially as Sonia had quite nice, but slender thighs. This done, Sonia continued her instruction. "Now if she's experienced, she'll probably have yer trousers undone and yer 'old man' out by now. If she ain't, then it's a do it yourself job. Anyway," she went on as she undid the front of Sid's trousers, and gave a delighted gasp as she noted his manly firmness, " We assume it's out, which it now is."

Truth to tell, not only was Sid well and truly ready for love, Sonia, despite her professional objectivity, was also getting emotionally involved.

"Right," she said in a slightly shaky voice, "She's got her panty hose and knickers round her ankles, so she can't move her feet apart. But you've got to get into her crumpet, which means parting her legs a bit." "How do I do that?" asked Sid doubtfully. "If yer shut up a minute I'll tell yer," said Sonia, with an edge of irritation in her voice. "You get yer knee between her knees, and then you sort of lever until they come apart. She'll be sort of bow legged, and her crumpet'll be open just enough for you to get in."

Sid sized up the situation, and came to the conclusion that his six feet one inch wouldn't co-ordinate well with Sonia's five feet three inches. He managed the knee and levering bit, but when Sonia said, "Right, now get in," he hesitated. "I can't," he lamented.

"What d'yer mean, you can't?" quibbled Sonia. "Yer too short for me," Sid quite logically pointed out. "Cor," blew out Sonia, "You do expect things easy, don't yer? You've got the poor girl with her tits hanging all over the place, her knickers are round her ankles, she's bow legged, so what do you expect? Want her to grow another foot just to oblige you? Why do yer think it's called a 'Knee Trembler?' Now stop moaning and get in."

Sid tried a couple of postures, and finally opted for a sort of bowlegged position. This lowered him sufficiently to enter Sonia, and having done so, he howled, "Cor!" "All right is it," questioned Sonia. "Bloody hell, yes," groaned Sid. "Well get to work. Move it up and down," wheezed Sonia, who was now entering the initial phase of orgasmic self-expression.

Sid began a sort of up and down bounce on his legs which, after settling into the rhythm, produced, if not a mighty rip roaring orgasm, at least a satisfactory one. Sonia hung on a bit longer to him and suddenly began a series of violent jerks which ended with her collapsing weakly against the now fragile Sid.

Sonia gave it a couple of minutes then said, "Right, yer can take it out now." "I can't" whined Sid. "Why not?" Sonia asked a little troubled. "Me knees won't straighten," sniffled Sid. "Oh, is that all," sneered Sonia and, unhooking her lower portions from Sid, she commenced to kick his knees until they moved back together.

"Okay, then, said Sonia, as she straightened up her disarrayed garments. Button up and we'll have a cup of tea."

Tea was taken in the front parlour (consulting room) again. Sonia, seated in the consulting chair, summarised the situation. "You've done exceeding well, Sid. The unhooking of the boulder holders was masterful. Now you notice that you got through right to the end without losing momentum or cock rigidity." "That's right," crowed the ecstatic Sid. It all happened so smoothly he hadn't really noticed that his old trouble had not emerged.

'Now," continued Sonia, "You've completed the basic course, and you've got confidence. What I suggest is that you go and try out what you've learned for the next six months. After that, if you want to, you can do my advanced courses." "What's those?" queried Sid. Sonia listed her further offerings for him. "They're, Anal sexology, Oral Stimulation, Cliterology, Tit Drenching and for the really advanced students, seminars on the Philosophy, Science and Theology of Sex."

Sid, amazed and bewildered by this glittering array of scholarly and incomprehensible possibilities, thought he might pass, but said nothing.

Sonia wound things up. "Right, lad, off you go, and if there are any problems, make an appointment and we'll sort 'em out. Good luck, and watch out for your wrist during the initial crutch groping."

With many cries of enthusiastic thanks, Sid departed. Sonia watched him go down the Terrace, walking tall, shoulders squared. "Hmm. Much better performer than his dad," she said to herself.


Sonia, who of course knew everything that happened along the Terrace, kept her eyes and ears open for sight and news of her student during the following weeks and months. The first thing that came to her visual attention was two days after Sid's departure. Returning in late evening from purchasing her weeks supply of ale from the nearby Off License, she spotted Sid screwing Marjorie Snow against the lamppost outside number 27. "Good lad," she muttered happily.

She was completely overwhelmed and overjoyed when at four months she learned that Sid had received five paternity summonses plus three possibilities, and that was only from the Balaklava girls. Her pride knew no bounds when it came to her attention that Sid had actually graduated to Vanessa Vanderville's bed. This came about because Vanessa's parents thought themselves a cut above the other Balaklava residents, and didn't want their daughter getting screwed against a lamppost on a cold night in case she caught a chill. They invited Sid to take advantage of Vanessa's gas heated bedroom.

To briefly return to the day after Sid's final lesson. Sonia was taking her daily perambulation through the park and, about to pass a statue of Lord Palmerston that had even less merit than Mr.Gladstone's, she saw a youth, head couched against the Palmerston feet, shoulders heaving with sobs, and clearly in a most distressful condition. It was a Balaklava youth well known to Sonia.

She approached the heap of misery and asked, "What's up, young Fred…?"

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