Dealing with a wayward Miss the proper Victorian way.
Sunday 28 February 2016
Erotic Story: Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 3.
In front of a roaring fire that kept the crisp coldness of a December morning at bay, Lizzie turned the page of her special book and continued to read the words of Miss Asher:
"It was with a sudden moment of clarity that I found the very thought of bending over a Gentleman's knee quite the most thrilling thing ever. The idea of submitting myself to the firm administration of a dominant personality gave rise to many a frothy day dream that spun lewd tales of well spanked or welted buttocks soothed only by a bout of vigorous love making and other acts of ill repute. That punishment should lead to such soulful satisfaction is a most peculiar thing to ponder.."
And a most peculiar thing it was to ponder mused Lizzie for it was a notion that had whispered to her for many a year due to an experience she had witnessed when the first flush of puberty formed the color of her character. She had been a girl of 14 and had witnessed one of the maids of an elderly relative being dealt with by a firm hand across her naked bottom as she bent over a high chair in the study. The sound of flesh upon flesh had brought her curiously peeking through the keyhole as her grand Uncle Robert stood lecturing the poor girl on her lack of attention before ordering her to lift her skirts, pull down her pantalettes and present her quivering derriere to two whole minutes of a slapped bottom as governed by the ornate clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. The girl had blubbed some excuse or t'other but complied meekly for arguing with your employer was not a wise decision to make if one wished to remain in their employ.
Once bent over, her Uncle stood to one side, rolled up his sleeve, and began to spank the maid's arse with a resounding vigor that echoed around the room. Lizzie gasped as her heart skipped and danced in her chest as she watched the punishment unfold. No warm up this; the first spank was as sound as the last and the maid bucked and stamped her feet furiously as hard slaps flattened each cheek leaving a rosy hand glow in its wake. The girl squeaked and squealed as her arse took on the shade of an over ripe tomato and her pleading for mercy fell on deaf ears. As the second minute passed, her Uncle stepped back to admire his efforts as Lizzie gathered her wits as she peered at the drama through the keyhole.
To her innocent astonishment, her Uncle suddenly stepped behind the weeping girl as she lay recovering and, heavens above, began to unbutton his pants before pressing up against her rear. Lizzie gasped as the maid yelped in surprise and, such was her shock, Lizzie stumbled back and ran up the stairs to her guest room where she lay on her bed in a state of bemused wanton excitement at what she had just witnessed for the rest of the afternoon. And thus was the act of spanking added to the nature of her own sexuality.
Lizzie smiled at the memory. Her late Uncle Robert had always been the rapscallion of her extended family line. Many a tall tale was told about his wandering ways and eager eye for the ladies. That Lizzie knew her Uncle was a spanker merely added to the color of his character and on each meeting she always greeted him with a secret knowing smile. Many a time she had dreamed what it would have been like to submit herself and her bottom to that firm hand of his. Each of those dreams had always ended with her rubbing her sex until, with the last imagined spank struck, she climaxed wetly in the most delicious way.
And now, here she was about to experience her most inner secret for real with Mr and Mrs Chambers the next day.
*
"It was with a sudden moment of clarity that I found the very thought of bending over a Gentleman's knee quite the most thrilling thing ever. The idea of submitting myself to the firm administration of a dominant personality gave rise to many a frothy day dream that spun lewd tales of well spanked or welted buttocks soothed only by a bout of vigorous love making and other acts of ill repute. That punishment should lead to such soulful satisfaction is a most peculiar thing to ponder.."
And a most peculiar thing it was to ponder mused Lizzie for it was a notion that had whispered to her for many a year due to an experience she had witnessed when the first flush of puberty formed the color of her character. She had been a girl of 14 and had witnessed one of the maids of an elderly relative being dealt with by a firm hand across her naked bottom as she bent over a high chair in the study. The sound of flesh upon flesh had brought her curiously peeking through the keyhole as her grand Uncle Robert stood lecturing the poor girl on her lack of attention before ordering her to lift her skirts, pull down her pantalettes and present her quivering derriere to two whole minutes of a slapped bottom as governed by the ornate clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. The girl had blubbed some excuse or t'other but complied meekly for arguing with your employer was not a wise decision to make if one wished to remain in their employ.
Once bent over, her Uncle stood to one side, rolled up his sleeve, and began to spank the maid's arse with a resounding vigor that echoed around the room. Lizzie gasped as her heart skipped and danced in her chest as she watched the punishment unfold. No warm up this; the first spank was as sound as the last and the maid bucked and stamped her feet furiously as hard slaps flattened each cheek leaving a rosy hand glow in its wake. The girl squeaked and squealed as her arse took on the shade of an over ripe tomato and her pleading for mercy fell on deaf ears. As the second minute passed, her Uncle stepped back to admire his efforts as Lizzie gathered her wits as she peered at the drama through the keyhole.
To her innocent astonishment, her Uncle suddenly stepped behind the weeping girl as she lay recovering and, heavens above, began to unbutton his pants before pressing up against her rear. Lizzie gasped as the maid yelped in surprise and, such was her shock, Lizzie stumbled back and ran up the stairs to her guest room where she lay on her bed in a state of bemused wanton excitement at what she had just witnessed for the rest of the afternoon. And thus was the act of spanking added to the nature of her own sexuality.
Lizzie smiled at the memory. Her late Uncle Robert had always been the rapscallion of her extended family line. Many a tall tale was told about his wandering ways and eager eye for the ladies. That Lizzie knew her Uncle was a spanker merely added to the color of his character and on each meeting she always greeted him with a secret knowing smile. Many a time she had dreamed what it would have been like to submit herself and her bottom to that firm hand of his. Each of those dreams had always ended with her rubbing her sex until, with the last imagined spank struck, she climaxed wetly in the most delicious way.
And now, here she was about to experience her most inner secret for real with Mr and Mrs Chambers the next day.
*
Thursday 25 February 2016
Swell's Night Guides.
Nudge nudge wink wink for the Victorian man about town.
Some info: "Swell’s Night Guides were guidebooks for the fashionable man-about-town, and probably published in the 1830s and early 1840s. The books described the clubs, pubs and bars in which prostitutes were to be found. One lists theaters, noting their advantages and drawbacks for a man of pleasure: those in which the doormen would let men behind the scenes to meet the dancing-girls, those that had boxes with locks on the doors, and so on.
There were also addresses for ‘Introducing Houses’, where women waited for clients. Some were just the upstairs rooms of pubs, while others masqueraded as respectable businesses, with a brass plaque – the sign of the professional middle-classes – on the doors claiming the house was a doctor’s, or a milliner’s, or a dressmaker’s. The Guides were horrifyingly blunt about what was to be found there, and about the ways in which men regarded the women. At Mme Matileau’s establishments, in Soho and Kensington,
nothing is allowed to get stale... you may have your meat dressed to your own liking... her flock is in prime condition, and always ready for sticking; when any of them are fried, they are turned out to grass... consequently the rot, bots, glanders, and other diseases incidental to cattle, are not generally known here.
The publisher’s address is in the heart of the pornography-printing district, and W West, the printer of one (one other has a fake name, and the third is missing that page), was long-established there. The books are extraordinarily rare today – there appear to be just five surviving in the world.
The guides followed a tradition of such books. In the early 18th century Ned Ward’s The Secret History of London Clubs contained information on a ‘Bawds’ Initiating Club’, and the notorious Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies was published for at least three decades between 1764 and 1788, giving names, addresses, prices and descriptions of prostitutes. In the more decorous 19th century, this type of book became rarer – rarer, but it never quite vanished."
Wednesday 24 February 2016
Female Hysteria and the Victorian Vibrator.
Demonstrating how to use the vibrator.
The first vibrators were steam powered, and by the turn of the twentieth century, a handheld electronic version had been developed to assist with various feminine needs. Vibrators soon moved from the doctor’s office to the home, with personal versions advertised in the Sears Roebuck catalog as “beauty aids.” But they also became more widely used and popular as a stimulant sex toy.
Steam powered vibrator.
A focus on health cloaked the connection between vibrators, orgasm, and female sexual desire, but, by the 1920s, this illusion was shattered due to their use in early pornographic films. By the 1950s, female hysteria was no longer considered a medical condition.
A rather rude little ditty from the first issue of the famous Victorian erotic publication "The Pearl."
THE WANTON LASS.
Air.—"Derry Down."
There was a lass they called bonny Bet,
With a jolly fat arse, and a cunt black as jet;
Her quim had long itched, and she wanted, I vow,
A jolly good fucking, but couldn't tell how.
Derry down.
She thought of a plan that might serve as the same,
That herself she might shag without any shame;
So a carrot she got, with a point rather blunt,
And she ramm'd it and jamm'd it three parts up her cunt.
Derry down.
She liked it so well that she oft used to do it,
Till at length the poor girl had occasion to rue it;
For one day, when amusing herself with this whim,
The carrot it snapped, and part stuck in her quim.
Derry down.
She went almost mad with vexation at this,
Indeed it was time, the poor girl couldn't piss.
The lass was in torture, no rest had poor Bet,
So at last an old doctor she was forced to get.
Derry down.
The doctor he came, and she told him the case,
Then with spectacles on, and a very long face,
He bid her turn up, though she scarcely was able,
And pull up her petticoats over her navel.
Derry down.
Her clouts she held up, round her belly so plump,
And he gave her fat arse such a hell of a thump,
That he made her cry out, tho' he did it so neat,
And away flew the carrot bang into the street.
Derry down.
Now a sweep passing by, he saw it come down,
Picked it up and he ate it, and said with a frown,
By God! it's not right, it's a damned shame, I say,
That people should throw buttered carrots away.
Derry down.
**
Tuesday 23 February 2016
Ann Summers Victorian Style.
What the naughty Victorian wife wore to keep the pep in the old man's pipe.
Victorian Erotic Story: Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
In a pale blue sky, the Winter sun sat looking down over the snow covered landscape of Old London Town and the populace that lived out their day to day lives. The date was the 10th of December 1889 and the oncoming festive season gave rise to an air of eager anticipation despite the hardships of daily living for the majority.
Along the banks of the frozen Serpentine, people from all walks of life and social standing were out and about enjoying the Christmas card scenery of Hyde Park. On the lake, families gathered, children played, and couples courted for it was the first time in a number of years that the ice had been thick enough to safely traverse. Winter fairs were a popular attraction in Victorian London as two women wrapped up snug and warm against the biting cold strolled arm in arm enjoying the simple pleasures of the day. Prudence glanced across at Lizzie wondering what she was thinking for their first meeting after the events of a few days ago had been an awkward affair for the Tea Room had been packed with patrons and conversation both casual and private would be easily overheard. So this hour found them away from the crowds and able to converse with ease.
They found a small bench and, after dusting off the layer of snow, sat down together. Prudence pulled her coat tighter around her and buried both hands into her muffler. That her companion was deep in thought was obvious and Prudence remained silent to give the younger woman a moment to gather herself.
Lizzie reached up and fiddled with the strings of her woolen hat as she looked across the white fields. "It's so beautiful," she breathed. "Albert and I always loved this time of year. Those times seem so long ago now."
Prudence patted her gloved hand. "Henry always said that even when life is cruel and unkind it is always the nature of who we are to look for a brighter day. I tend to worry about things of inconsequence that matter not whereas my husband is forever the eternal optimist. My life is not what it was even a mere six months ago though and I have changed much in my outlook. Despite losing Albert, you should seek out the things that truly mean something to you. Apart from good health, the only thing that matters in this life is to be happy and content with your lot."
Lizzie nodded. "Oh, all that I understand. To dwell in the past is no good for anyone. The memories that I cherish will always be happy one's, Prudence. What happened the other afternoon," she paused and turned to look at her older friend. "Was the beginning of a new day. I know that now. I've thought much since then about what occurred and come to realize that it was something I needed to do in order to change the way I was living my life. It was so much more than just what happened between us physically." She pressed a hand on her chest. "In here is where it mattered most." She gave a wry smile, "Though I have to admit I was mightily impressed with your husband's delicious cock."
Both women giggled and hugged each other.
"Did he really have no idea?" asked Lizzie.
Prudence shook her head. "No, none. I can't begin to tell you the conversation we had once we had returned home. The man was positively speechless for the rest of the evening and kept staring at me in a most peculiar way!" she laughed. "Once the surprise had worn off he was quite enthusiastic about the whole escapade. Fucking a new pussy will render any doubt worthless for most men I suspect."
"Does Henry take advantage of you often?"
Prudence pursed her lips. "Oh, much more these past few months, Lizzie. To be truthful, until Henry took our sex life in hand, I was the prim and proper wife who took the act of lovemaking as a chore and something that was a weekly ritual to be endured." She looked down and dug the toe of her right boot into the snow. "Henry must have thought I had the sexuality and libido of an old maid. Breed a family then have done with all that disgusting nonsense."
"We are so alike you and I," said Lizzie quietly. "Funny how fate plays her hand sometimes."
The snow had begun to fall again as the bells of St Pauls pealed in the distance. Lizzie took her hand and stood up. "Come let us be on our way for the sky looks full and I don't fancy the idea of walking up Ludgate in a blizzard. You can catch a hansom at the entrance to the park."
*
Prudence mounted the step and got into the black carriage. In front, a pair of Shires stood blowing clouds of white steam as their driver jumped up into his seat. Prudence pulled the door shut and leaned out of the window as Lizzie stood outside. "Remember, next Tuesday. We should arrive around one depending on the weather. Another day can be arranged if travelling is impossible due to the snow. Oh, and remind me to make plans for Christmas as I'm sure you'd be made most welcome by the family."
A gust of wind had Lizzie clasping the hat on her head as she walked alongside the hansom as it began to move slowly across the lane. "I shall," she shouted as the wind picked up. Then, "Oh, wait!" She reached into her muffler and pulled something out. "Here, I nearly forgot. My answer!" And she handed Prudence a note through the window and stood waving as the carriage took Prudence back home.
Prudence sat back in the seat and unfolded the piece of paper. On it was wrote:
"Inquiring minds may need to know that Curiosity is a most persistent thing.
Yours in virgin anticipation.
Elizabeth Armitage."
Prudence smiled as the snow swirled around her carriage and the world outside faded away like an early morning mist.
*
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
- Her Victorian Bottom Plundered.
- Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 3.
In a pale blue sky, the Winter sun sat looking down over the snow covered landscape of Old London Town and the populace that lived out their day to day lives. The date was the 10th of December 1889 and the oncoming festive season gave rise to an air of eager anticipation despite the hardships of daily living for the majority.
Along the banks of the frozen Serpentine, people from all walks of life and social standing were out and about enjoying the Christmas card scenery of Hyde Park. On the lake, families gathered, children played, and couples courted for it was the first time in a number of years that the ice had been thick enough to safely traverse. Winter fairs were a popular attraction in Victorian London as two women wrapped up snug and warm against the biting cold strolled arm in arm enjoying the simple pleasures of the day. Prudence glanced across at Lizzie wondering what she was thinking for their first meeting after the events of a few days ago had been an awkward affair for the Tea Room had been packed with patrons and conversation both casual and private would be easily overheard. So this hour found them away from the crowds and able to converse with ease.
They found a small bench and, after dusting off the layer of snow, sat down together. Prudence pulled her coat tighter around her and buried both hands into her muffler. That her companion was deep in thought was obvious and Prudence remained silent to give the younger woman a moment to gather herself.
Lizzie reached up and fiddled with the strings of her woolen hat as she looked across the white fields. "It's so beautiful," she breathed. "Albert and I always loved this time of year. Those times seem so long ago now."
Prudence patted her gloved hand. "Henry always said that even when life is cruel and unkind it is always the nature of who we are to look for a brighter day. I tend to worry about things of inconsequence that matter not whereas my husband is forever the eternal optimist. My life is not what it was even a mere six months ago though and I have changed much in my outlook. Despite losing Albert, you should seek out the things that truly mean something to you. Apart from good health, the only thing that matters in this life is to be happy and content with your lot."
Lizzie nodded. "Oh, all that I understand. To dwell in the past is no good for anyone. The memories that I cherish will always be happy one's, Prudence. What happened the other afternoon," she paused and turned to look at her older friend. "Was the beginning of a new day. I know that now. I've thought much since then about what occurred and come to realize that it was something I needed to do in order to change the way I was living my life. It was so much more than just what happened between us physically." She pressed a hand on her chest. "In here is where it mattered most." She gave a wry smile, "Though I have to admit I was mightily impressed with your husband's delicious cock."
Both women giggled and hugged each other.
"Did he really have no idea?" asked Lizzie.
Prudence shook her head. "No, none. I can't begin to tell you the conversation we had once we had returned home. The man was positively speechless for the rest of the evening and kept staring at me in a most peculiar way!" she laughed. "Once the surprise had worn off he was quite enthusiastic about the whole escapade. Fucking a new pussy will render any doubt worthless for most men I suspect."
"Does Henry take advantage of you often?"
Prudence pursed her lips. "Oh, much more these past few months, Lizzie. To be truthful, until Henry took our sex life in hand, I was the prim and proper wife who took the act of lovemaking as a chore and something that was a weekly ritual to be endured." She looked down and dug the toe of her right boot into the snow. "Henry must have thought I had the sexuality and libido of an old maid. Breed a family then have done with all that disgusting nonsense."
"We are so alike you and I," said Lizzie quietly. "Funny how fate plays her hand sometimes."
The snow had begun to fall again as the bells of St Pauls pealed in the distance. Lizzie took her hand and stood up. "Come let us be on our way for the sky looks full and I don't fancy the idea of walking up Ludgate in a blizzard. You can catch a hansom at the entrance to the park."
*
Prudence mounted the step and got into the black carriage. In front, a pair of Shires stood blowing clouds of white steam as their driver jumped up into his seat. Prudence pulled the door shut and leaned out of the window as Lizzie stood outside. "Remember, next Tuesday. We should arrive around one depending on the weather. Another day can be arranged if travelling is impossible due to the snow. Oh, and remind me to make plans for Christmas as I'm sure you'd be made most welcome by the family."
A gust of wind had Lizzie clasping the hat on her head as she walked alongside the hansom as it began to move slowly across the lane. "I shall," she shouted as the wind picked up. Then, "Oh, wait!" She reached into her muffler and pulled something out. "Here, I nearly forgot. My answer!" And she handed Prudence a note through the window and stood waving as the carriage took Prudence back home.
Prudence sat back in the seat and unfolded the piece of paper. On it was wrote:
"Inquiring minds may need to know that Curiosity is a most persistent thing.
Yours in virgin anticipation.
Elizabeth Armitage."
Prudence smiled as the snow swirled around her carriage and the world outside faded away like an early morning mist.
*
Victorian Erotic Story: Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
In the pale moonlight of an early December dawn, Henry Chambers was deep fucking his panting wife for the third time that night. Prudence lay eagerly beneath her husband as he pummeled her well ploughed furrow with the urgent stabbings of an oncoming spend. His sweat laden face was pressed against her right cheek as she urged him on in their animalistic passion and the need to reach their climax in unison.
Prudence sensed his loss of rhythm and lifted herself higher so that her woolen stockinged thighs drew him closer into her core and her ankles bounced on his pounding backside to bring him home. "Henry, love," she gasped, the delicious melting pot deep within her beginning to blaze into a burning furnace. "Keep on. The moment is near. Ahhh. Your cock feels so deep inside me. Ahhh. Ahhhhh.. ohhhhhhh!!"
Prudence felt the apple sized head of his member growing larger and larger as her husband fucked on and on. Such was his vigor, he had pushed them both higher up the double bed and the oak paneled headboard was now thumping against the bedroom wall in tribute to their mating. Thump, thump, thump. Prudence whispered to her husband. "H.. Henry. Oh. Wait! You'll wake the house!"
Henry just grunted. His whole world was centered on the length of flesh that was surging in and out of his wife's sex. He gave a sudden gasp and buried himself right up to the hilt as the delirium of his climax washed over him and he felt his wife bite down onto his right shoulder as she rode the wave with him. He promptly collapsed with a groan into the pillow as Prudence giggled in his ear as he saluted his final spurt of his spunk with a resounding fart that rattled around the bedroom. "Bravo, husband!" she breathed, kissing his cheek. "A worthy salute for such a noble effort!"
Henry groaned as he raised himself from covering his wife and eased himself from the depth of her sex and between her damp thighs. Breathing deeply, he lay beside her staring up into the blue darkness above them. "Be sated beloved," he muttered as the banging drum in his chest slowed to its natural order. "I doubt the flesh between my legs can muster another stand this night even if the mind is willing." He reached for his spent cock and winced at the sharp rawness along its shrinking length due to the friction caused by the embedded need for sensible precaution.
Prudence got up and dashed naked to her dresser where a jug of water and a bowl stood with a clean cloth to dry her. Bending over, she reached between her thighs and carefully examined her sex. "Thrice this night is more than enough, Henry," she smiled as she took the end of the string that hung down from the opening to her pussy and pulled it gently so that the hidden roll of tied spunk soaked sponge slid from the depths of her passage and out with a soft "plop." She glanced towards the double bed where she saw Henry watching her. She blushed slightly and turned to dump the evidence of male lust into a small box so that she could dispose of it later when propriety allowed.
"Once is a delight, twice is a joy," she smiled. "Three times is never a chore. Especially submitting my sex to as fine and large a cock as yours." Prudence poured a small measure of water into the bowl and dipped the cloth into it. She then cleaned the sweat and oily remnants of his spend from around her crotch and arsehole which was still throbbing urgently after her number two fucking. Once done, she returned to his side and drew the blankets around them for the chill of Winter was beginning to win the battle over the heat of their coupling.
Henry closed his eyes for that warm post sex ache was washing him to sleep. "What plans for the 'morrow, dearest?" he asked as he felt his mind drifting into the ether.
Prudence snuggled in closer. "Do you remember Miss Armitage?" she replied.
"The widow?" he frowned.
"Um huh," she nodded as she lent closer and inhaled the smell of him. "Our paths crossed again last week during a society reading trip to Millers bookstore in Westingtons. A pleasant surprise as I haven't seen her in over a month and it must be nearly four months since her husbands funeral. I suspect the poor woman needed time to get over the shock and the change in her social situation. So we have arranged to meet in one of the Tea rooms up Petticoat Lane and renew our acquaintances over a cup of their finest brew and scones." Prudence stared thoughtfully up into the dark. "Such a sad thing for her to go through at such an age. I wonder how life finds her these days." she wondered.
Henry mumbled dreamily as the sound of her voice lulled him into the land of nod.
*
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
- Her Victorian Bottom Plundered.
- Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 3.
In the pale moonlight of an early December dawn, Henry Chambers was deep fucking his panting wife for the third time that night. Prudence lay eagerly beneath her husband as he pummeled her well ploughed furrow with the urgent stabbings of an oncoming spend. His sweat laden face was pressed against her right cheek as she urged him on in their animalistic passion and the need to reach their climax in unison.
Prudence sensed his loss of rhythm and lifted herself higher so that her woolen stockinged thighs drew him closer into her core and her ankles bounced on his pounding backside to bring him home. "Henry, love," she gasped, the delicious melting pot deep within her beginning to blaze into a burning furnace. "Keep on. The moment is near. Ahhh. Your cock feels so deep inside me. Ahhh. Ahhhhh.. ohhhhhhh!!"
Prudence felt the apple sized head of his member growing larger and larger as her husband fucked on and on. Such was his vigor, he had pushed them both higher up the double bed and the oak paneled headboard was now thumping against the bedroom wall in tribute to their mating. Thump, thump, thump. Prudence whispered to her husband. "H.. Henry. Oh. Wait! You'll wake the house!"
Henry just grunted. His whole world was centered on the length of flesh that was surging in and out of his wife's sex. He gave a sudden gasp and buried himself right up to the hilt as the delirium of his climax washed over him and he felt his wife bite down onto his right shoulder as she rode the wave with him. He promptly collapsed with a groan into the pillow as Prudence giggled in his ear as he saluted his final spurt of his spunk with a resounding fart that rattled around the bedroom. "Bravo, husband!" she breathed, kissing his cheek. "A worthy salute for such a noble effort!"
Henry groaned as he raised himself from covering his wife and eased himself from the depth of her sex and between her damp thighs. Breathing deeply, he lay beside her staring up into the blue darkness above them. "Be sated beloved," he muttered as the banging drum in his chest slowed to its natural order. "I doubt the flesh between my legs can muster another stand this night even if the mind is willing." He reached for his spent cock and winced at the sharp rawness along its shrinking length due to the friction caused by the embedded need for sensible precaution.
Prudence got up and dashed naked to her dresser where a jug of water and a bowl stood with a clean cloth to dry her. Bending over, she reached between her thighs and carefully examined her sex. "Thrice this night is more than enough, Henry," she smiled as she took the end of the string that hung down from the opening to her pussy and pulled it gently so that the hidden roll of tied spunk soaked sponge slid from the depths of her passage and out with a soft "plop." She glanced towards the double bed where she saw Henry watching her. She blushed slightly and turned to dump the evidence of male lust into a small box so that she could dispose of it later when propriety allowed.
"Once is a delight, twice is a joy," she smiled. "Three times is never a chore. Especially submitting my sex to as fine and large a cock as yours." Prudence poured a small measure of water into the bowl and dipped the cloth into it. She then cleaned the sweat and oily remnants of his spend from around her crotch and arsehole which was still throbbing urgently after her number two fucking. Once done, she returned to his side and drew the blankets around them for the chill of Winter was beginning to win the battle over the heat of their coupling.
Henry closed his eyes for that warm post sex ache was washing him to sleep. "What plans for the 'morrow, dearest?" he asked as he felt his mind drifting into the ether.
Prudence snuggled in closer. "Do you remember Miss Armitage?" she replied.
"The widow?" he frowned.
"Um huh," she nodded as she lent closer and inhaled the smell of him. "Our paths crossed again last week during a society reading trip to Millers bookstore in Westingtons. A pleasant surprise as I haven't seen her in over a month and it must be nearly four months since her husbands funeral. I suspect the poor woman needed time to get over the shock and the change in her social situation. So we have arranged to meet in one of the Tea rooms up Petticoat Lane and renew our acquaintances over a cup of their finest brew and scones." Prudence stared thoughtfully up into the dark. "Such a sad thing for her to go through at such an age. I wonder how life finds her these days." she wondered.
Henry mumbled dreamily as the sound of her voice lulled him into the land of nod.
*
Victorian Erotic Story: Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
For awakened Prudence, the days had been sexually listless for Henry, her husband, was away on business.
The sunlight flickered through the swaying branches of the old oak tree which majestically dominated the farthest reaches of their garden, and which underneath Prudence sat in deepest thought whilst trying to read the Times. Thoughts that unbidden always returned to the past month and the miraculous change in her marriage to her dearest husband. "Dearest husband." she murmured with a smile. Dearest darkest husband. A slight breeze ruffled the pages of the newspaper as she took a sip of lemonade and placed the crystal on the small garden table next to her. Henry had been away a week and Prudence felt every solitary moment with every breath she took.
She was a changed woman. Her husband had changed her on that night a month past. She felt liberated. Unburdened by convention and free of thought; no matter how wanton. And it was her dearest husband who had taken and led her to be so. Her resistance had been born of upbringing and propriety which, in those twilight hours, he had stripped away leaving her a slave not only to his desires but, more importantly, to her own. She closed her eyes and let those desires wash over her in waves of lustful memory. Her lips parted slightly at the memory of his large member that had slipped so sweetly into her mouth, and which had brought forth such delicious agony as it had forced its way up her virgin bottom. The rose blushed.
Never again would she deny her true feelings in the matters of the physical relationship with her husband. The following morning they had lain naked together and talked as if at the beginning of a new journey of discovery, and of their new found understanding of needs to be satisfied. Such was their shared delight they had spent the morning in perpetual coitus that had left them both sated and exhausted. Prudence felt the bud of her bottom hole flutter as the fleeting vision of her naked husband standing over her as he forced his rigid cock into her forbidden fruit as she knelt gasping endearments on their large ruffled double bed. Shivering, Prudence fanned herself and wished that her dearest Henry return home soon.
In the distance, a maid was coming towards her carrying what appeared to be a small parcel in her grasp.
*
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
- Her Victorian Bottom Plundered.
- Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 3.
For awakened Prudence, the days had been sexually listless for Henry, her husband, was away on business.
The sunlight flickered through the swaying branches of the old oak tree which majestically dominated the farthest reaches of their garden, and which underneath Prudence sat in deepest thought whilst trying to read the Times. Thoughts that unbidden always returned to the past month and the miraculous change in her marriage to her dearest husband. "Dearest husband." she murmured with a smile. Dearest darkest husband. A slight breeze ruffled the pages of the newspaper as she took a sip of lemonade and placed the crystal on the small garden table next to her. Henry had been away a week and Prudence felt every solitary moment with every breath she took.
She was a changed woman. Her husband had changed her on that night a month past. She felt liberated. Unburdened by convention and free of thought; no matter how wanton. And it was her dearest husband who had taken and led her to be so. Her resistance had been born of upbringing and propriety which, in those twilight hours, he had stripped away leaving her a slave not only to his desires but, more importantly, to her own. She closed her eyes and let those desires wash over her in waves of lustful memory. Her lips parted slightly at the memory of his large member that had slipped so sweetly into her mouth, and which had brought forth such delicious agony as it had forced its way up her virgin bottom. The rose blushed.
Never again would she deny her true feelings in the matters of the physical relationship with her husband. The following morning they had lain naked together and talked as if at the beginning of a new journey of discovery, and of their new found understanding of needs to be satisfied. Such was their shared delight they had spent the morning in perpetual coitus that had left them both sated and exhausted. Prudence felt the bud of her bottom hole flutter as the fleeting vision of her naked husband standing over her as he forced his rigid cock into her forbidden fruit as she knelt gasping endearments on their large ruffled double bed. Shivering, Prudence fanned herself and wished that her dearest Henry return home soon.
In the distance, a maid was coming towards her carrying what appeared to be a small parcel in her grasp.
*
Friday 12 February 2016
Victorian Erotic Classics: The Pearl.
Where it all began. The banned Victorian publication The Pearl 1879-1880.
Victorian Erotic Story: Her Victorian Bottom Plundered.
VICTORIAN EROTIC FICTION
HER VICTORIAN BOTTOM PLUNDERED:
a story about a randy Victorian Husband and the sexual awakening of his prim and proper wife.
Notes - Read this series in the following blog posting order:
- Her Victorian Bottom Plundered.
- Her Victorian Bottom Thrashed.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 1.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 2.
- Her Victorian Bottom Shared part 3.
In 19th century London, Henry Chambers was a man of note and some means. Left a not inconsiderable estate by his late father, he had speculated wisely in the city and had become a respected authority on the whims and fate of the money markets. Such was his status, his advice was sought from wide and far on all matters related to the pursuit of wealth and financial contentment.
He lived in a resplendent mansion in one of the most fashionable areas of Westminster where he indulged his public passions for art and fine literature. At the age of 50, he considered himself most satisfied with his lot and was able to look upon the years of his life with justifiable pride at his endeavors. His social standing had increased measurably due to his marriage some 20 years previously to Prudence, his dear love, whom he had been introduced to by one of his clients at a New Years Eve gala. Prudence had been the third daughter of the famous Fitzpatrick dynasty who had made their name in the early 1840’s as mineral traders and importers. For Henry Chambers it was love at first sight but his attentions had at first been met with a dry indifference by the handsome Miss Prudence who bore her airs and graces with a lofty disdain, and it was not without some serious wooing and courtship on his part did he finally win her hand and agree to become his wife.
Three daughters and two decades later, she was still a remarkably attractive filly whose abundant charms had grown even more impressive with age and no man felt as proud as Henry Chambers did with such a jewel on his arm when out socialising in polite respectable society.
To polite society they presented themselves as a loving devoted couple but for Henry, beneath this nods and smiles, he nurtured a deep dark secret that even his dear wife knew nothing about..
*
The Erotic Delights of Victorian Lingerie.
These days the word "bloomers" conjures up sexy images of buxom maids wearing split rear undergarments beneath their skirts along with woolen stockings or cotton leggings. Actually, bloomers were a fashion trend created by Amelia Bloomer of New York in the early 1850's that came over from the States during the time of the Womens Emancipation Movement and were not seen as underwear at all and more as "trousers" that women could wear outdoors. Nothing is more erotic than seeing a shapely bottom peeking out of a pair of unbuttoned bloomers or pantalettes.
The Master of the House and his Wayward Maid.
In this Victorian household, dealing with the staff means a firm thrashing with the stick.
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