tagLetters & TranscriptsThe Grand Tour Ch. 02

The Grand Tour Ch. 02


Chapter 2: Amiens

My Dear Bartelby, 26 May 1727, Amiens

Bart old man you can not imagine the boredom I have faced in this Godforsaken Frogville. I don't understand why foreigners have to speak some jabber jaw that means nothing, they should learn English like all right thinking gentlemen. At least I have a knack for languages and I can speak Frog tolerable well. Hah after all Pater made sure that I had the best tutors and they certainly used the stick to make me enthusiastic.

The Old Stick has been recovering from what he claims was some fatal disease. Hah more likely he was being a sham saying he was sick after our little trip across the channel. I have never seen a worse sailor, as soon as we were aboard he was over the side puking up his breakfast even though it was still tied to the wharf. I did make sure that I ate with him, purely to show brotherly concern at his ill-fortune of course. My how green he would go as I waved my piece of blood sausage under his nose. Well a man must have some fun when you are near such a canting fellow as my Old Stick. To see his face you would have thought we were going through one of the worst storms in history instead of an easy sail in a brisk wind.

With an easy passage we were able to make a landing at Calais that evening though some damned Froggy official wanted to check our luggage. The Old Stick being sick would have rolled over and let him touch our stuff with his stuffy Froggy hands and manner but I soon showed the man what sort of men we have in England and he was quickly fawning over me realising that I was no damned commoner. So we took a joyful parting of our vessel and made our way to the best Inn in the town and had a hearty meal.

Or should I say that I did, our good Pastor feeling the need to remain in one place that did not rock under his feet stayed in bed and pleading piteously for a little soup. Well I enjoyed filling the victualling office in my body. Though some clever Papist Frog has made the money worth something this year, Sterling is still more valued here and the Frogs will sell anything to get some good English currency. So it was only that there were others from our fair country that stopped me buying the services of one of the serving wenches and I decided to try my luck in the port of Calais.

Pater would not have been pleased of course since I fell in with bad company almost at once and over some tolerable red we played a few hands of Whist. Well bless me if they can't play with any skill and I have won some five pounds before I decided to see what joys can be further found in a port since I was feeling pleased with myself. I have been told on occasion that such places are full of women of low repute and dens of iniquity. In fact some of my new found friends were trying to take me to one when some ill-kept ruffians fell on us.

As you know Pater made sure I knew which end of a blade is best to use since he paid for enough tutors so I held my own and they fell on the others with the same joy that long-lost brothers greet their absent kin. That is they want to kill the good fellows. Seeing the lay of the land I am backing out when I see the leader spy me. An ugly brute if there ever was one with a scar through his left cheek and hard dark eyes, he was one that would be sure to dance the hangman's jig at Tynburn. He looks at me as though he is asking that I play with him but no thankee I think and hightail from that scapegallows and his friends and head back to the inn.

The morning saw both a sickly Old Stick and myself board the Paris coach and with a full load of meat on board we roll out of Calais after a goodly breakfast for me and some foolish book for the Old Stick. Something that some God-botherer in Dublin wrote last year about travels and a land of little people. I tell you Bart old man some people will read any old rubbish. I have to say that the Old Stick wasn't his usual censorious self and must have been a little sickly.

I ask you again why can't civilised people speak a proper tongue, as it was they make these clucking noises that make up the damned Froggy tongue. As I have said I understand and speak it readily enough since my old tutor taught me with the sound of a caning if I tried to play hooky or not learn the bloody thing. Still I can speak the lingo easily enough as well as that stuff the Dons, Wogs and the Burgers spout when they try to talk.

It was a bumpy trip, the road was better than most but it hadn't been graded and filled in where the winter rains had washed it away, also there was no fair strumpets to enjoy since our company all there seemed to be were fat merchants or ill-mannered Frogs going to Paris. Well I was pleased to stop at Amiens in the evening when the Old Stick comes over all sick and we get him to a room at the Inn and summon a Quack, who says that he can't move and he needs rest.

Nothing that a good bleeding would have fixed if you ask me but no the good Doctor has some wog theory that bleeding is bad for your health, so here as the Old Stick gets better though I have found some amusement in this place.

I do not know if you have ever had the enjoyment of being in Amiens but all it has to enjoy is a damned big Cathedral and some mud that they grow things in. My God man if they have society that I could find it is beyond me all that they have is damned Lawyers and tailors trying to act as their betters do. So the thought of being here leaves me wanting to scream that I am in Hell. They do have some damned fine tailors though and it was with them I had the chance to have fun.

So leaving the Parson with some slattern to mop his fevered brow I decided to order some good cambric shirts and other items of apparel, using the instructions from the innkeeper I made my way to some stitcher who was fawning and scraping over me as is only proper as I told him of my order. Of course he says and leads me to his changing room and bids me take off my jacket and waistcoat so he can measure me. Well what enters but his wife and a winsome doxie she is. Froggy may not be civilised but just ordering shirts can sound like a romantic speech and she watches me as her husband reads off numbers as he measures me for my new clothes and she copies them down. Thinks I as she does this I would love you to measure my inside leg and have a look at my middle leg you delightful tart.

Well had you seen him you would have not wondered that she liked my look and I flexed a goodly bit of thigh at her which brought a smile to her lips and she tugged down her dress a little to give me a good eyeful of female breast of which she seemed amply proportioned. Well thinks I once you have them smiling then they are on the way to some rumpy-pumpy and looking at the grey strings of hair on the bald pate of the tailor who is droning on makes me think this young miss might like to have some hair to run her fingers through and I am the man to give her the chance with my thick brown locks.

Measurements finished the old needle pusher bids me fare thee well and asks his bint to take me to his stock so I can choose the material I want my clothes made of, so thinks I the tart and I will be close together perhaps we can make that intimately close. So she leads me into a lovely little wardrobe filled with rolls of linen, cambric, broadcloth and brocades. Then with a lamp she shows me a nice bit of cambric as well as her breast. It is a breast to be admired my dear Bart firm and plump like the quail that you can devour with great enjoyment and she sees that I am enjoying the view and she turns to me as though offering it to me. Well I tell her that I much prefer to see her cloth and brush the naked skin of her breasts with my lips.

Yes I know I was being forward but this wench was begging for me to plow her cock-valley with my rod and she giggles and says non to my yes and blow me she puts the lamp down and begins to touch my cock through my trousers. Well if the lamp is shining then so are her eyes and her lascivious lips are open and begging for my kisses. You know me and being the kindly hearted soul I am those lips are soon touching mine and I am playing wrestle the tongue in her mouth.

As I kiss her lips I pull her dress down so that I expose fully her lovely paps to my hungry hands and teeth. They are hidden in the shadows but are so firm to my touch that I know that I am going to enjoy them. When my lips wrap themselves about her teats they are so firm and big that they are a wonder should be taken as the best in the world. How she swooned in my hands then and I push her onto the table of cloths that they keep in here.

Some quick exploration under her petticoats allows me to uncover her ripe haunches and I pull up two plump legs so that I can run my hands over her tender thighs and then the thicket of curls between them, a thicket that I intended to cultivate with my plough my dear Bart. You should have heard the groans and cries as I felt her wet quim, why she must have been in need of a good rogering for ages. Thankee I tells my maker and I enjoy running my hands over her lovely thighs and enjoying the thought of what is to come.

With her ripe ass cheeks in my hands I lift up her hips after dropping my trousers to my ankles and I was able to give those fleshy orbs a good squeezing. What a joy a lovely arse is, it begs a good fondling and spanking and she is a lovely hot bawd and she is begging me to give her my rod. Well what she wanted I can give I thinks. Her legs open and her quim there in front of me brings out the best in me and like the true craftsman I thread her needle with my cock and find that it is a delightful needle, it is so warm and moist and inviting. So I use my cock to stitch the thread into her flesh and a hot little minx she is as I squeeze her teats and as I pump her quim with my cock. She is screaming and I have to cover her mouth in case that addle-pate of her husband hears her but there is pleasure for all involved in this little tailoring.

My God Old Man she almost screamed through my hand when she cums. Oh she is very grateful as I feel her cum and I wondered if her husband has been neglecting his little wifey. I must say Old Man she was a good ride and with the noise we have made I wondered if our little game has been heard but there is no outraged husband threatening to cut my bollocks off so I return to the Inn with a lively step and a whistle on my lips thinking of my next fitting in two days.

Then damn it all the Old Stick is up and about and he is off to the Cathedral dragging me behind him. The man is a font of information on cathedrals and architecture and it is so boring! How many times did I want to fall asleep with that damned boring voice in my ears. Oh and he loves nature so we were with the dung eaters as we checked out their swamps and what they grew, that man came so close to being made to eat dung I can tell you.

What was even worse he kept a beady eye on me all the time and I was unable to go a whoring and gambling as I wanted, not that there is much in this benighted place. So I had two damned boring two days but thank God for the tailor or rather his pretty doxie. Even the eagle-eyed God-botherer agreed that I needed another fitting so it was with some happiness that I entered the tailors house and was met by my French doe-eyed doxie. Seeing the Old Stick with me I could see what lust she had flee her eyes until struck by inspiration I told the old tailor to make my esteemed fellow traveller suitable clothes for a city such as Paris.

No sooner than I had said the words than the greedy old beggar was all over the good Parson who positively preened and strutted with the compliments and the thought of new clothes though God knows what would make that bean-pole figure look good, nothing on this Earth thinks I.

With our chaperone's busy his bawdy little wife was ushering me out the door and into our favourite storeroom and she had her lips pressed to mine in no time. Hold off I tell her and I cup her bounteous boobies and kiss their creamy slopes, well she is all aswoon as I am doing this and she wants a good hump there and then but I want to teach her how to make the French Kiss as that maid of my pox-ridden hag of an aunt taught me. So I drop my trousers and draws and draw her attention to my cock nice and hard.

The little minx is positively drooling at the sight so I tell her that it needs to be kissed and made to feel welcome. Well she looks a little unsure but I press her to her knees and let my cock touch her lips. Soon the little cock-sucker is kissing and whispering endearments to the spear at her lips and I see that the little tart is rubbing her quim under her dress, what a hot little trollop she was and thank God I met her. Well she needed a good lather before I leave thinks I and I give her some advice on what to do with her tongue.

Bart my old friend I think that most women must have the makings of a good cocksucker in them. What they need of course is a good cock and someone willing to help them learn. So I was delighted as she licked around my head and even pulled the foreskin back to lick in the slit and the little bit of skin under it. Then she takes my cock into her mouth and I'm pumping it in and out until unable to hold off I cum. Well my cock is out of her mouth quick smart and I'm pumping cream onto those gorgeous boobies that have been uncovered. Using some old rags we wipe the stuff off and I pull her to her feet and throw her over the cloth on the table.

Flipping her skirts up I expose that lovely curved haunch and enjoy the sight of her wet quim the hair sticking to the lips. This one is ready for a good rogering and by God I am the man to do it. Being young my cock is up and ready again in next to no time and I pull open those fleshy thighs and pull her body to my cock. Reaching down I guide it into her valley and push it in with a deep sense of contentment. No not contentment I want to fuck her brains out and I did Bart, oh I fucked her. She was thrashing and groaning so much it was a wonder that the city did not hear us.

I threaded that needle well and furrowed the valley and sowed my seed with a great deal of energy. If I was enjoying my time with her she was having a good time as well from the groans and cries she was giving forth. Then I flood her quim with my cum and she is crying with delight praying that I have given her a baby for that is what she wants. Well thinks I if that is what you want and you don't want anything else lets give it a good try and I'm nibbling at her boobies and her teats and lovely hard things pressed to my tongue they are and my cock is stirring until I hear the voice of the Old Stick calling for me.

Enough said hey. Soon we are out of there and it is another two days before we are seeing them, this time though it is in our rooms as they deliver the clothes we have ordered. Well the old Tailor probably added a bit on the price but the clothes are well-stitched and his wife gave me the price and more in her services. So I have to say that the Tailors of Amiens are good craftsmen and their wives even better.

Next day we are off in the coach and our next stop will be Paris and the delights there. I think I have a few plans to throw off my guardian angel so I can meet up with devils in that delightful city.

Your Friend Always


PS there will be a man calling around at your house soon. He is an ill-looking fellow with a scar on his face. Pay him five hundred pounds my good fellow and give him the key to my boat house on the Thames and tell him to talk to Hawkins my factor. No need to tell Pater about him or the Excise Men, what they don't know wont hurt them and what is a little more booze in the country hey. You'll get half of the sale of course.


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