Anonymous - Maudie , a lady of the night

An awakening in a whore's bedroom is, as a rule, cheerless.

One is vague as to one's whereabouts, as a rule sore on the John Thomas, and a general feeling of having made a bloody fool of oneself is most often mixed with a wonder whose pyjamas you've got on and whether you've got the clap or possibly worse.

Charles Vernon St Just Osmond, fifth off the succession to the earldom of Osmond, very much a 'younger son', with a good deal less money even than most younger sons, turned over twice, flicked his eyes at the sunlight dribbling through the blinds, bit a tongue which felt like leather, sniffed a distinct aroma of whisky, and wondered where the hell he was, why he had done it and whom he had done it on.

He raised himself on one elbow, and looked. Then he was pleased. He had obviously not made a very drunken error. The good lady who lay by his side, in a charming silk pyjama suit with a deep Venetian lace collar, was not only pretty, but interesting. Her chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders. Her arms, bare from just above the elbows, were deliciously rounded, and her very delicate little hands were heavily be-ringed. This, Osmond (or, as we shall call him Charlie) concluded, was no ordinary tart, and the question of finance smote him suddenly. He had a vague recollection of friends and the Empire and the Continental, and he knew that he couldn't have much on him. He was just slipping out of bed to look through his pockets when she woke up and put a soft arm round his neck.

'Remember what you came here for last night and what you didn't do, darling,' she cooed.

Charlie had forgotten that. He must have been very drunk he thought to himself, and as he sat up in bed his head whirled in confirmation. The girl pulled him gently down and kissed him softly and lovingly.

'Naughty boy to have been so drunk last night,' she purred. 'Think of me, full of lust, ready to do anything, and you went to sleep like a log. I suppose you don't remember how you got undressed?'

Charlie admitted that he didn't.

'Well, I didn't take your clothes off, but my maid did, and put you into your pyjamas. She's out of the common pretty yet with two women by you, you couldn't summon up a flicker of a stand. You've got to make up for it now, my lazy darling.'

Her little hand slipped over his stomach, undid the knot of his pyjama trousers, and played delicately with a very limp and lethargic phallus. Her other hand reached up behind her and touched a bell. Charlie sank back, dreamily anticipating some further surprise.

Almost immediately a very smart and pretty girl, dressed in a sort of comic-opera maid's costume, came in without knocking.

'This gentleman isn't well,' said Charlie's hostess; 'bring the usual remedies.'

'The usual remedies' arrived very swiftly, and a tired and dejected Charlie noted, with a relieved glance, tea, coffee, tiny caviar sandwiches, delicately cut toast, almost smokingly hot little rolls, and more severe comforts in the shape of half-bottles of champagne, and several brands of liqueurs and brandy. On a separate tray were all sorts of fruit.

'If you are very hungry, darling,' said the little fairy of the bed, 'you can have anything you like in the way of a serious breakfast, but my advice is, play about with these little things now, and when we are up and bathed and so on, we'll have a proper meal in the garden by the river; it's a beautiful morning, and the lilies are lovely.'

'River, garden, lilies'-every evidence of wealth-Charlie began to wonder what he had struck, and to think more nervously than ever of his waistcoat pockets.

The pretty maid slipped a soft, rounded arm under Charlie's back, and raised him gently. She sat on the bed by his knee, the trays by her side on a table, and began to feed him like a baby. Charlie's delightful bedfellow lay back in amorous abandon.

'Nothing for me just yet, Elsie,' she said, smiling.

Charlie didn't quite know which way to look-both girls were so delicious. The maid's left hand lay, whether by accident or design, right on his cock, as she handed him drinks and sandwiches with her right. She had crossed her knees as she sat, and her lovely calves showed right up to the garter.

She wouldn't let him help himself, but he couldn't keep his hands idle. One toyed with her breasts, his fingers within her bodice dwelling lustfully on the swelling globes. The other hand his bedfellow had captured and it, too, was occupied. She had thrown the bedclothes aside, pulled her pyjama trousers down a little, and had Charlie's hand pressed gently on her clitoris.

Charlie ate and drank, and in a moment or two all lassitude had left him. His cock was rampant and erect, and his eyes wandered lasciviously and eagerly from one wickedly smiling face to the other.

The pretty maid gave him a long, hard-breathed kiss, which nearly set him on fire, before she left. As the door closed behind her, the other girl kissed him savagely on the neck.

'Take my things off,' she said, jerkily, to Charlie.

It was the work of a moment, and she was exposed in all her naked loveliness.

To his surprise, Charlie noticed that her mons Veneri carried no hair whatever; it was perfectly shaved, and as his fingers strayed downwards, he felt no trace of any stubble even as he inclined his head and kissed it, he felt conscious that his chin, though he had had a late shave overnight, was far the rougher.

Charlie knew a bit; he hadn't knocked about town for nothing, and he was accustomed to pictures of the female form divine in which the hair was as conspicuously absent as the clothing, but he had never run across it in real life, and curiously, it opened up a new vista of thought to him.

He kissed the shorn vagina and tasted some strangely sweet effluvia, which contrasted attractively with the caviare and the Georges Goulet.

Charlie, hardly able to contain himself, was just turning to fuck her in the age-old Adam and Eve way when her little hand, strong with passion, pushed him back.

'Lie quiet, darling,' she said, 'I'm going to be jockey,' and delicately she knelt astride him. 'Do you want it very much, sweetheart?' she cooed, as her fingers toyed with the luxuriant hairs of his bush.

'Want it, my God! I can't hold it-be quick.'

She parted the dainty red lips of her cunt with her diamond-flashing fingers and with just a movement of her wrist guided Charlie's member in; then she sank softly down on him till her bare breasts caressed his, and their lips became as one reciprocating engine of love and lust.

It was a convulsive grappling of two naked bodies, a passionate mingling of flesh, a communion of kisses-and a good deal more a communion of souls than those two young people quite realised at that time. Charlie really thought it was the best fuck he had ever had, and yet he didn't even know the girl's name or anything at all about her.

Somehow, though, he felt they had an affinity. As her legs twined over his bottom, and her strong, young arms grappled him to her with loving vigour, he felt somehow that he had never known the time when that red, hot, little tongue had not darted over his.

He did not quite know when he actually finished. He had half fainted; the girl's grip was loosened too; he seemed to be swimming in mid-air in a red mist. The most delicious fatigue possessed him. When he came to, she was still on to of him, but wide-awake and alert.

'Where are we?' he hesitated. 'I expect I owe all sorts of apologies.'

'You don't remember the motor drive?'

'No.'

'Well, you're near Staines, and you'll learn all about thing when you feel a bit better. Try a little more caviar; it's extra fine, straight from a grand-duke friend of mine. You couldn't buy it in a shop.'