The Remains of my Stay. 1/2 davistrell@aol.com
Dear Mr. Hobson,
I was so pleased to hear that you'd been kepton at Andringham, after my godfather's untimely passing. You were andstill are no doubt a most excellent butler, and I'm sure you will perform your duties for the new owners with that most exquisite dignity you always manifested, as in the old days.
I remember so well, so happily the summer I spent after coming down from Oxbridge University. Andringham was everything I had been led to believe. A country mansion set in a pastoral scene worthy of Constable. Motorcars may have replaced horses, wireless radio replaced the gossip of the yokels, but Andringham remains locked as ever in the 18th century, with its Regency architecture and extensive grounds. I remember the day I arrived, fresh from the taxi from the train station, and you carried my bags, walked me through the marbled corridors, up the plush winding staircase, passing portraits of the house's ancestors, and showed me to my room.
Most pleasant, with a four poster bed, a wash-stand and a Queen Anne chair, as you so graciously informed me, when I inquired. I quickly felt at hoast tray, waited till I'd finished and helped me dress.A little pat on the bottom, you made me feel like a fourteen year old, to tell me I was ready to face the remainder of the day. You must've been the youngest butler, in service, having been promoted from chauffeur, after the unfortunate accident that Uffington, your predecessor had with the twelve-bore shotgun. You looked so smart, if a little stiff in your uniform, but carried it off well, just as you did with your duties.
Then came the incident. You must remember.
That time you caughtme with the housemaid. Throwing her out, you told me you had no choice, but to inform my godfather; after all it was your duty. I threw myself at your feet, clutched you by the legs, begging you not to tell. I pleaded with you. I would've done anything to prevent you from reporting me. You thought for a few moments. Then from the confines of your elegant trousers, emerged your fine, strong penis, standing in erection, military fashion, true to your unflappable demeanor. I took it into my mouth, which was surely your intention, and began to suck my first cock. Of course I'd heard of such things at University, prefects with their fags and suchlike, but it'd all been hearsay.
Would cock taste like fish? Or like bratwurst like that German undergrad told me? No, it tasted like you, Hobson, cock will always taste of you. I took your ejaculation like a catholic devouring the eucharist, a consummation devoutly to be wished, I was absolved, you picked me up and kissed my cum-covered face, holding on till my knees buckled, and abruptly left the room, with no expression on your face, other than poking your tongue, so that it bulged out your cheek. Zipping your fly with circumspection, a gentleman's gentleman to the last.
After that, I couldn't get enough. I wanted your dick, went gimshay cockhappy as those in the Indian Service call it, and sucked you off in vestibules, broom closets, wardrobes, pantry, upstairs and down.
Once at dinner I sort of back handed, grabbedyour crotch, while you were serving soup. You turned not a hair, butgave me hell later. Then one night, in early September, you came to myroom and woke me. Taking down your pants, displaying your asever-ready hardon, pulled back the covers. I went for your dick asper usual, but you motioned for me to stop. You explained I hadanother orifice that would do. You tickled my butt-hole with twofinger pads, and showed me a new pleasure. You rolled me over on myfront, pulled apart my butt cheeks and started licking my shy rosebud.I got so excited, that involuntarily, I came. You wiped up my cream,and smeared your fingers and my asshole, starting to push inside.First one digit, then another. Moving around with a rotating motion,till finally, you were able to put your penis against the opening,slide, push in, driving in until I totally sheathed it, could feelyour nuts pressed against my legs. It was intense. You started to pushand pull,your body above my back, your belly brushing my buns, andstarted to slide back and forth, driving me into a delirium. If thereis a heaven, there's got to be a lot of butt-fucking going on. I couldfeel you sweat from your exertions, as you penetrated me deep,withdrawing a little then slamming home again. Suddenly you seemed toshudder. My ass got all wet and sticky, as you dropped your load,staying inside me till you spewed out every last little drop. Werolled over, I licked off the cum from your softening cock, and youheld me against your chest and I could hear your increased heartbeat.Twice more you had me that night, I was counting, and you returned asdawn was breaking, to the servants quarters, to ready for the day'swork ahead. I lay in our fuck-nest and fell exhaustedly to sleep.
The Remains of my Stay. 2/2
You woke me for lunch, as if nothing unusual had happened and I looked dreamily into your face. But a world had changed. A world had grown bigger, possibilities had been opened, possibilities penetrated, a new beginnininghad been posited.
I'll never forgot how you rodgered me on the billiard table.
You'd told me to lay face up, naked on the table hands and feet stretched to each corner pocket. Then you set up the balls, ready fora trick shot. You made your expert stroke, cracked the break, and two balls landed in either of my hands. Two entered my open armpits and you richocheted two more, that bounced off my inner thighs, crossed over, bouncing against my calves, hit the rail, collided with the black ball, that rolled until it gently plopped against my asshole. You mounted the table, mounted me, fucked me royally and we both spilt a copious amount of cum. I would see you days later, still trying to remove the stain from the green felt. You told me that cum doesn't stain, but no matter what solvent you used you couldn't get rid of it. Somehow Ihope you never succeeded and the now dry wet-spot is still there to thi America. I've been living with a U.S. congressman's son, and we plan to make a home together in Delaware. The radio market has a great demand for writers, so I've been thinking of writing about you and me, in a radio drama. Of course, I'll have to switch me to a girl.
I'll name it after you and remember the times I had, sucking onHoward's End. 'Bye Howard, I'll always remember you.