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London England. 1815. A Glittering Ball in a magnificent Ballroom

I saw her across the crowded ball room. Gliding effortlessly around the floor, like a bird of paradise. Delectable. A Swan like neck, perfect bosoms, sparkling blue eyes, perfection in human form. Dressed in an exquisitely tailored gown of a vivid green hue with ermine trimmings, my heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly my whole being yearned to reach out to her, to unwrap her swirling ball gown, to extract her perfect bosoms to feel their firm softness to slip off her underthings and unlace her corsets, to run my fingers around her softness, to stroke her silky inner thighs and to take her for my pleasure.

But how to make her acquaintance? One can not after all merely walk up to a young and very eligable lady to whom one has not been introduced and suggest a spot of lewd and rampant fornication. Not in polite society.

Bunty Burlingham was at my shoulder as always and his sister Mary was as usual hovering nearby, they seemed almost joined at hip. Bunty was an amiable enough cove and often we found our way to the same parties and balls, quite likely because I often dived into my own pocket when bills were to be paid whereas Bunty ah, did not.

Mary was such a common companion that I generally failed to take account of the fact that she was actually a girl, I generally treated her as one of the chaps.

Thus it was that I quite cruelly asked the question, “Dear god who is that delectable creature?” in Mary’s presence whilst pointing at the vision of lovliness.

Mary followed my gaze, in her raised heels she was near my own height, “That,” she averred, “Is Lady Eliza Crawford. Her father owns half of Bradford or some such provincial town.”

“Cor, out of your league old boy,” Bunty joked.

“Never,” I replied, “If I can face up to Bonaparte I can defeat any fair ladies defenses.”

“Charles, your entire regiment spent the whole of the battle of Waterloo in reserve,” Mary reminded me.

She was always belittling me, 23 years of age and still unmarried, only two years younger than I in fact, I only put up with it so as not to upset Bunty.

“The girl, get me an introduction,” I ordered.

“Work your magic old girl,” Bunty suggested.

Mary sighed and ventured forth.

I watched her make her way through the throng, her funny red fascinator hat like a ships sail threading hither and thither.

I had no doubt Mary would fetch the vision of loveliness, my own status was well known as my father had wisely drunk himself to oblivion to insulate himself from mothers barbed tongue and compounded it by driving his own coach and four into the river Mersey at full gallop, apparently mistaking it for the Manchester turnpike. Fortunately the horses survived, though he did not.

Mary returned alone, “Her card is full,” she explained.

“Did you not explain who was asking?” I demanded

“But of course,” Mary declared.

My member was stiffened by thoughts of poling the wench, even the thought of kissing her sweet lips was rousing me. Rousing me in a most uncomfortable manner as space to extend within my breeches was most severely limited.

I sought to rearrange my underthings.

Mary saw my discomfiture. “Charles please!” she hissed, and then taking pity on me she added, “Outside, now!”

“Oh, yes, I thank you,” I blustered.

We stepped through the “Fench Window,” one of many glazed doors leading on to the raised walkway which ran around the outside of the building some several feet above street level. A low pillarred wall or ballustrade protected the unwary from precipitaely descending several feet to terra firma. It was a most popular place for personages to take the air when the atmosphere became warmed to excess.

My member was really rampant now with the expectation of what was to come. I stood and grasped the parapet and Mary stood behind me. Her practiced fingers swiftly loosened my belt and undid the buttons on my fly. Her sweet hands slipped down inside my breeches and began to massage my troubled member.

She eased him from my fly and placed one hand around my shaft while the other cupped my balls. “Is that better,” she whispered, as she gently squeezed my balls and rubbed my shaft.

“Much much better,” I replied as I thought of poling the exciting and .enticing new comer, while Mary eased my discomfort.

“You must not get so tense, it is not good for your health,” she whispered in my ear.

I felt her breath on my neck, her lips touched my ear, I imagined it was Eliza’s lips, Eliza’s hands, no I imagined it was Eliza’s womb gripping my member not Mary’s hand. It was enticing and I luxuriated in the sensations and indeed my release was soon approaching on waves of ecstasy.

Mary carefully aimed my member out between the pillars of the parapet as she sensed my moment was upon me, thus when I expelled the silvery emissions flew clear in a neat parabola to land in the street below.

“Better?” Mary enquired.

“Yes, I thank you.” I replied as I wiped my member with a hand kerchief.

The next thing some impertinent cove appeared at my elbow, “I say old chap, if you have finished with that whore, I have an urgent need.”

I swiftly realise we were not alone, other gentlemen consorted with ladies, or perhaps women in the shadows or against the parapet in various stages of flagrante.

“I say, Mary is no whore, she is my, ah,” I blustered, I knew not what to say, Mary had kindly eased my tension on numerous occasions, I never questioned why.

“Fiancé, we are betrothed,” Mary ventured.

“Indeed, my fiance,” I agreed.

“My sincerest apologies,” the chap apologised and retreated with considerable alacrity.

“I am so sorry,” I apologised.

“There is no need to apologise,” Mary simpered, “I accept.”

“What?” I queried.

“Your proposal,” she laughed.

I laughed as well, what a thought.

We returned to the Ball room, the angel from earlier was still attracting everyone’s attention but some of my fire was now sated.

“Do you still wish to pole her?” Mary asked.

“Ah, well make her acquaintance.” I replied.

“Have your pole deep inside her, thrusting, probing,” Mary teased.

“Mary have some decorum!” I insisted.

“Decorum,” she laughed, “ It was you who had your member waving around and spewing forth your seed over the balustrade a moment ago.”

“Please, that should remain between ourselves,” I urged.

She was far from finished, “Oh yes, I drain your snake and drive you wild with pleasure whilst you do absolutely nothing for me, not a kiss on my cheek even let alone on my breast or inner thigh.”

“Mary, I have the utmost respect for you,” I assured her, “You are one of my best friends.”

“Your unpaid whore more likely,” she replied, “Well Charles, no more hands, next time you have needs you may pole me or nothing.”

“What? I demanded.

She regaled me with a firm stare, “I shall no longer undertake to relieve your tensions with my hands, next time you need relief you must bed me, you must please me as you take your own pleasure and thereafter make me an offer or fight duel with Bunty for my honour.”

“You are deranged, completely deranged,” I reiterated.

Mary slipped away. I went in search of Bunty. However what I had not expected was that Mary had gone in search of the delectable “Lady Eliza Crawford.”

The first I knew of it was the said Lady Eliza appeared before me, demanding to know what I had said about her. Her appearance was not unwelcome but having several beaus in tow was troubling.

“What do you want with me? sir.” Eliza asked quite pointedly.

“A dance,” I replied.

“Well I have it on good authority you wish to pole me!” Eliza expounded, “Well sir I am not a whore,” she snapped, “And you are by far the least likely gentleman, or indeed man, to ever find my favour.”

I was shocked by her unseemly outburst.

“If you need poling, then I suggest you pole your whore, your concubine, your messenger!” she insisted and she actually jabbed her finger at Mary.

Somehow her anger diminished entirely my desire to pole her.

“I thank you for your frank appraisal,” I replied, “Your suggestion has merit, shall we conjoin Mary?”

“No Charles you are quite drunk,” Mary insisted, “Come away before you do something we shall regret.”

“Drunk on love!” I laughed.

“Lust more likely,” Eliza snapped as she rushed away spreading the crowd as she charged between them.

“Get the carriage Bunty,” Mary ordered. Bunty saw the sense of it and went to seek my carriage.

We collected our cloaks and ventured forth into the night, the coach and four awaited us and we stepped aboard, Bunty facing the rear and Mary and I together on the opposite seat.

The Carriage had barely started when I felt Mary’s fingers at my fly.

“Mary!” I challenged her.

“Well you did not complain earlier,” she reminded me as she stroked my member through the fly.

“Mary!” I protested.

“Your turn, my teats would welcome some attention if you have a moment.” she countered.

“Don’t worry on my part, you can have your way with her standing on your heads for all I care,” Bunty opined.

“No, I think not,” I demurred.

“Up my skirts then, feel my soft silky thighs, my warm soft silky thighs,” she teased, “Ease your fingers inside me, take my honour,” she challenged.

“Er,” I demurred again, "What the devil has got into you?”

“Nothing!” she replied, “Absolutely nothing, I am at your beck and call constantly, I am mistaken for your whore and never ever do you show me any consideration what so ever!”

“But Mary I have nothing but the utmost respect for you,” I pleaded,

“I don’t want respect I want you inside me you idiot!” she railed, “I want your babies, I love you.”

“My god,” I exclaimed, “Really? You will feel better in the morning.”

“Why, shall you ravish me?” she asked.

“Mary, some decorum please,” Bunty asked plaintively.

“Then I shall ravish you,” Mary insisted and with that she grasped me by the cheeks and kissed me on the lips.

Her tongue forced its way between my teeth as she pressed my head back against the headrest, I knew not what she expected of me but I decided to humour her and reciprocate. It was very far from being unpleasant.

“My teats,” she hissed.

I grasped her bodice and tried to extract her breasts, I failed. I grasped her gown firmly and went to tear it from her but the stitching held.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Bunty chipped in, “Wait until you get home, undress completely and fornicate lewdly yet privately in Charles’s bed.

“Uggh,” Mary agreed and she climbed off me. “What must I do to experience the joy of conjunction.”

“ ‘tis commonly called having a Fug,” Bunty explained, “Though lord alone knows why.”

“Stop the carriage!” I ordered. The Coachman obeyed. I leapt from the carriage, helped Mary to alight too and then ordered Bunty, “Loft her skirts Bunty I have needs which shall not be denied.

Bunty did as I asked, and by the flickering light of the carriage’s side lights he raised the hem of his sisters gown and petty coats to her chin and very kindly tore her pantaloons own one side so they slid down her left leg leaving her parts bare.

She leaned against the coach, her bottom against the doorway and somehow in the confusion and the darkness my member unerringly found her womb.

A brief cry of pain and she was mine. It was pleasant, comfortable, oddly familiar, so used had I become to Mary’s scent and her presence.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked.

“Hardly, the step is digging in my back and your member tearing me in half,” she replied.

“Shall we cease?” I asked.

“Oh no Charles,” She demurred, “Not until you have demonstrated your love with a quart of your seed.”

Good lord she wanted me to expell in her, and I desired nothing in the whole world more than to expell in her so quite precipitately and suddenly I expelled in the most pleasant of ways imaginable. All was well with the world.

In a moment all was done. Mary had discarded her ruined pantaloons and was mopping her womans parts with them, following which she wiped my member with them and in a trice all was as it began. Three people fully clothed in a carriage.

“Shall you sleep beside me tonight?” I asked.

“Rather not old bean if it’s all the same to you,” Bunty laughed, “But I seriously old chap, if she’s with child you really ought to make her an offer.”

Mary was very quiet. “Is everything all right?” I asked.

“I expected more, more fireworks,” she said sadly, “But it felt so ordinary, and now I am ruined.”

“Ordinary, comfortable,” I agreed, “Nice, pleasant, like a walk through the woods, something to repeat endlessly for the pleasure.”

We arrived at my home. Stepped from the carriage and Mary and I made our way to my room.

I helped her from her gown, undid her corsets, bared her completely and with my mouth and tongue started the fireworks within her breasts, her navel her chin, her mouth. My fingers entered and enlarged her slot ready for my member and on my big four poster bed with earnest protestations of love the fireworks commenced.

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