I return unexpectedly to find my wife has eloped with a cad and a bounder and take revenge with the aid of a few chums, to the satisfaction of all, except perhaps Bunty Written in the style of English redolent of the early 1900s
Cuckolded
I would in all probability never have discovered that Jessica my darling wife had cucklded me with a cad and lothario, Bunty Broomstead to be precise, had my Darraq Motor-Car not broken down twix the Dog and Duck Inn and Hampstead New.
I was quite discomfited. The Darraq was usually so reliable. Unlike Jessica.
I do not declaim to be the most jovial of coves, nor the most attentive nor passionate of lovers but for my sins I had sampled none but that bitch Jessica for seven tedious miserable years, and fully expected her to remain faithful in her turn. However as I was to discover she had cuckolded me by decamping to Worthing with Bunty for a so called dirty weekend.
I returned home in the Darraq dangling ignominiously on the end of a towing rope hauled by Claude Francom-Davie’s Rolls-Royce.
That dear Jessica was absent surprised me little, she would scuttle round to see her mother at the least opportunity but imagine my surprise when I telephoned to find she was not at that residence either. I surmised she had some assignation with her lady friends.
The indignity of my motor’s failure was altogether too much to bear so I determined that with immeadiate effect I should to obtain suitable advice regardng the purchase of a more suitable autocar and thus went forthwith to my club, the London MotorCar Club, off the Marylebone road in Makepiece Street.
On setting myself down therein and ordering a light supper I noted something was afoot. Sly looks in my direction. I surmised it was my news of my Darraq which had created the contempt.
I sulked, one cannot always remain in the forefront of technology, the Darraq was he latest thing when I purchased it in nineteen three, but that damned Rolls chap had well and truly trumped it now and even my claim to enjoy superior reliability had now been shown to be a falsehood.
“Bloody funny Ha Ha,” I muttered.
“Good grief Balfore,” my chum Algy interejected, “You’re taking it in good spirit.”
“Yes, Ha bloody ha,” I agreed.
“Dear god if Bunty Broomstead cuckolded me I should knock his damned block off.” Dobbo insisted.
“Cuckold, what are you blethering on about?” I demanded.
“Did you not know, why Bloody Bunty and your lady wife are at this very moment cavorting in the bridal suite at the Grand Hotel in Worthing old chap,” Dobbo chuckled, “Thought the whole world and his wife knew.”
“No, I had no idea. I thought the bitch was visiting her mother,” I confessed, “Bloody Bunty’s welcome to her.”
“Looks bad though Balfore,” Algy advised, “If that Kaiser chap keeps sabre rattling I fear the entire regiment of reserves will be recaalled to the colours and she may shack up with Bunty permanently.”
“Bloody good riddance,” I agreed.
“But Balfore,” Algy pleaded, “He is an incourigable serial lothario, a bed post notching cocksman, a.”
“A nothing,” I declared.
“Then he is free to fornicate with your wife whenever he may?” Dobbo queried.
“Absolutely, why the whole bally regiment may use and abuse her in every hole at one and the same time after bally church parade for all I care.” I declared. Admittedly I had consumed the better part of a bottle of claret by this time.
“Capital Idea!” Dobbo exclaimed, “Let us go forth to Worthing and fetch her!”
“What?” I queried.
“Fuck her in all her holes after church parade,” he repeated.
“Well I wish you the best of British,” I exclaimed, “Bloody bitch won’t let me near her most of the time.”
Someone consulted a Bradshaw and before I knew it we were aboard the Newspaper train for Worthing seated upon piles of newspapers and a case of vintage port to “Keep the chills away.”
I lost track of the number of coves accompanying us, Algy, Bertie, Ginger, Claude and lord knows who else, it must have been well over a dozen and I believe none of us were thinking with any clarity what so ever.
The desk clerk addressed us as we entered the Grand Hotel sometime just before dawn, “May I help you Gentlemen?” he asked.
“No we are quite incapable of whatever unasisted,” I declared.
“Come to kick seven bells out of Bunty Broomhurst,” Bertie Gaunt added.
“Broomstead, come to kick seven bells out of Bunty Broom-Stead.” I corrected him.
“And would you like a drink first Gentlemen?” He enquired.
“Capital, Champagne all round.” I cried delightedly.
“Have it sent up to the Bridal Suite,” I insisted, “I suppose that blaggard Broomstead is in residence there?”
“I cannot say sirs,” the clerk insisted. A ten bob note loosened his tongue
“Mister and Mrs Smith,” the clerk said, “Mr Smith is a regular but he seems to bring a different Mrs Smith on every visit.”
“Slimy looking cove, tightwad, tight trousers, slicked down hair,” I ventured.
“Averse to tipping, sir, not generous as per you gentlemen,” the clerk agreed, “Would you care for a pass key?” It cost a damn fiver.
We proceeded to the top floor not without incident as the elevator failed to elevate with our entireity aboard so some had to take to the stairs.
I opened the door. “Good God Gerald!” Jessica wailed as I walked in to find her abed with Bunty,” What brings you here?”
“Two forty five newspaper train from Waterloo,” Algy replied truthfully.
Bunty had pulled the bed clothes over his head and could be heard praying.
“Had a good fuck dear?” I asked.
“No, he had too much champagne if you must know,” Jessica retorted.
“Don’t hurt me,” Bunty appealed to us.
“Shut up Bunty,” Claude advised, “Bugger off there’s a good chap.”
“Balfore, I assure you, I never laid a finger,” Bunty pleaded.
“Oh shut up Bunty we are undone,” Jessica snapped.
She threw back the bed clothes. I nearly fainted.
She wore black stockings with suspenders, a black corset which upthrust her bosoms and very little else.
“Good God Jess you look like a bloody tart!” I declared.
“Bloody tart,” Algy agreed drunkenly, “Deal me in chaps!”
“Algy!” I protested as he proceeded to kick off his boots and dropped his breeches, “At least take you cap and jacket off first!”
“Sorry Balfore,” he apologised.
“Geoffrey!” Jessica protested.
“Well you dress like a tart, you attend single Gentlemen in hotel rooms like a tart so why not fuck like a tart?” I declared, “That will be six pence if you please Algy.”
“Oh for god’s sake!” Jessica protested but I own I saw her teats roused as never before.
“Form an orderly queue gentlemen,” I ordered, “Tonight is special night only one shiny farthing to fuck my lying cheating tart wife.”
”You said sixpence!” cried Algy.
”Friends discount,” I assured him.
“Oh for heaven’s sake," Jessica sighed but she gazed eagerly at Algy’s massively erect member ready to skewer her, “Oh very well then.”
She fingered herself, dipping her fingers deep in herself and then lay back with legs raised displaying herself utterly to await his attentions.
Algy upheld the reputation of the regiment of reserve officers admirably as he inserted his stiff pole within her with surprising ease.
Chaps were disrobing rapidly. Bunty having been ejected from the bed quickly took refuge upon the balcony in naught but his nightshirt
Jessica lay upon the bed while someone, Mason-Davies I believe busily engaged himself in sucking Jess’s left bosom while some other cove sucked her right bosom.
This sufficed for some moments until Bertie Gaunt expressed a desire to fuck Jess’s back passage.
Algy grunted and shot his bolt before withdrawing which allowed Jess to change position so she now straddled Dighby-Mollineax and firmly impaled herself upon his member while allowing Bertie Gaunt to bury his tadger deep inside her backside.
“Bloody hell, just needs a cock in her mouth to score a perfect hat trick!” I observed.
It wasn’t easy, Tomlinson tried to do a hand stand to get his cock in Jessica’s mouth but failed and instead shot his cream all over her face and then Williams tried and somehow succeeded in getting his tadger between her lips though with such extreme contortins that he should have a wonderful career as a contortionist should he choose to persue it.
“Come on chaps your three minutes are up swapsies,” someone, Algy possibly, ordered.
“Oh for heavens sake let them finish!” Jessica gasped, her voice somewhat muffled by the cock deep in her mouth.
“Your champagne sir,” the Clerk announced as he entered the room with a magnum of champagne and box of glasses.
“Excellent, pray join us sir.” I invited.
“Oh sorry sirs I do not drink,” he replied.
“Not drink, man fuck,” I insisted, “Take next turn I insist!”
“Thank you very much sir,” he agreed.
He did not even take his trousers off, the cad. That is the trouble with the lower orders no manners. Still he gave an admirable performance causing Jess to cry out more than once as he sated her.
“Thank you very much Gentlemen,” he said as he wiped his cock on a tray cloth, “Is there anything else I can get you.”
“Bloody pistol to run Bloody Bunty through with.” someone suggested.
“Shoot, running through is required of a gun,” someone surmosed drunkenly,
“Why bother sirs, just kick him off the balcony, we are after all on the fourth floor.” the Clerk suggested.
“You can come in now Bunty,” some cove suggested as he swung the door to the balcony wide and in doing so knocked Bunty neatly over the balustrade to dive neatly to the cobblestones below, landing thereon I should imagine with a sickening thump.
Most of the chaps had sampled Jessica, “You haven’t sampled Jessica Ginger?” I queried, “Not queer are you?”
“No I’m not queer, I’m not drunk but I am a girl,” Ginger reminded me.
“Oh sorry old thing,” I apologised. “I completely forgot, what with you having to pretend to be a chap to join the Autocar club.”
“Geoffrey,” Algy asked, “Had it never occurred to you that Jess thought you and Ginger were at it like knives during your all nighters mending that damned Darraq.”
The cold grey light of morn was seeping through the curtains by now. Half the chaps had gone in search of booze, others were snoozing on the floor.
I climbed beside Jess and went to go to sleep. The bed stank of Micassar oil. It stank of Bunty.
“Change sides,” I ordered Jess, “This side stinks of Broomstead.”.
“Don’t you tell me what to do you cuckold!” Jess snapped, “You stink of engine oil.”.
I climbed from the bed and got back in on Jess’s side. As usual she turned away from me.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, “Anyway who told you I desired to be ravished by the entire regiment for my Birthday present.”
Oh balderdash, I had forgotten it was her birthday.
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” I lied.
“That was a lovely surprise Geoffrey,” She admitted, “You are so thoughtful,” and she kissed me on the cheek. “Good night.”
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