Literotic asexstories – A Summer Holiday by Alfred_A,Alfred_A
My adventures have been such that they needed be carried out with the utmost discretion. The societal mores of the time, indeed of the present time, would have required that those who participated in them, including myself, be subjected to the harshest censure. The scandals would have destroyed my means of livelihood, as well as blackened the reputations of those participants whose sensuality and love of pleasure were surely the business only of themselves; not the business of those whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to prevent others from enjoying what they themselves could not have.
The names, places and dates have been changed in order to protect those involved. Some will attempt to determine my identity by analysing the internal evidence of these writings, but they will gain nothing from these data. Some of the relationships have been altered, and indeed some of the events have been constructed from happenings that occurred on more than one occasion, although none of them were made from whole cloth. This serves the double purpose of obscuring any evidence that might identify these events or myself, and of creating a more titillating story. I make no apologies for this; the purpose of these writings is not to provide a historical document, but to allow an old man to relive the parts of his life which caused him the greatest pleasure and perhaps to give some pleasure to those who read them after his departure from this mortal coil.
As I begin my writing of these reminisces, I have no idea how long they will continue. My criteria for continuing to record them are that they are of interest to me and that I can remember them well enough to do them justice. And of course, my ability to keep the Grim Reaper at bay.
I have arranged with my solicitors in London to take each tale as I finish it and keep it in confidence. Whatever I have finished when death overtakes me shall be gathered together and kept private until the year 2000, the birth of a new millenium. At this time, all involved shall be dead and the stories may be released. I hope that these manuscripts shall see a more sexually enlightened era, one that will find amusement at the posturing and hypocrisy of the era in which I was forced to live my life.
I hope it; but I doubt it.
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I arrived in the village of Stansted on June 13, 187_. The train trip from London had been most enjoyable; I had shared a compartment with a lovely young lady and her governess. After some initial awkwardness, the conversation with the young lady had become pleasantly animated and the aunt had joined in. A few attempts at flirting with the younger of my two companions had come to naught, but the governess’ attitude toward me had been quite bold. I felt that had I been alone with her in different circumstances, our relationship would have taken a more intimate course. As it was, I had to leave them both on the train, though not before obtaining the address of the young lady against a possible future visit to her parents’ estate in H_. Ah, well.
My journey to Stansted was for the purpose of spending the summer on the estate of Lady Martha, my mother’s sister, and her husband John, an entrepreneur of no small success. Though Uncle John’s business concerns were mostly in London, Stansted was close enough that he was able to spend considerable time on his estate, although protracted stays in London were not unheard of. My parents, Edward and Katherine A, with whom I usually spent my summers while attending Cambridge, had embarked upon a combination pleasure and business cruise to some of their holdings in the colonies; they would be gone until after I was due back at University in the fall.
As I disembarked from the train, I espied Aunt Martha on the platform. She smiled warmly when she saw me and I strode forward to give her a brief hug and peck on the cheek.
“Alfred,” she exclaimed, as she held me at arms’ length as though to take a better look at me, “it’s so good to see you! I was beginning to think my sister was deliberately keeping you to herself, although I can’t really blame her. ”
“It’s good to see you as well, Aunt Martha,” I replied, pleased with her enthusiastic greeting.
“Williamson,” she said to a middle aged man who had been standing discreetly behind her, “please see to Mr. A_’s baggage.”
“Yes M’Lady,” replied the fellow as he touched his cap and turned to the task.
The carriage ride to the estate was pleasant, and was filled with the exchange of minutiae that was common between two relatives who had had little communication for some time. In due course we turned into the gates to the estate and drove up a winding cobblestone path flanked by towering oaks which provided shade at all times of the day. The fragrance from the flowerbeds surrounding the house produced a feeling of well being that bode well for a pleasant stay.
As we alighted from the carriage, Aunt Martha turned to Williamson and said, “Put Mr. A_ in the Blue Room, Williamson.”
Williamson touched his cap and began to unload the luggage.
Aunt Martha touched my arm lightly. “When you’ve freshened up, come down to the garden for drinks with Uncle John and me. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”
I said that I would and followed Williamson through the front door and up the winding staircase.
The Blue Room was quite pleasant, with large windows; a door that opened onto a small patio; and a closet that I fancied was as large as the small dormitory room to which my undergraduate status had relegated me. The décor was of course blue; curtains, bedspread and carpet; even a reproduction of Gainsborough’s Blue Boy on the wall above the bed.
As I was perusing the clothing in the closet for attire appropriate to the occasion, I noticed what appeared to be a small gouge about shoulder high in the back of the closet in the right hand corner. Upon closer inspection however, I discovered it to be quite deep. I put my eye to it and found that it went all the way through the wall and gave a view of the room next door. I could see that it was a bedroom, but I saw nothing except for the bed, part of a nightstand and the window on the opposite wall. Supposing that some careless servant had caused the damage without informing his employer for fear of reprimand, I resolved to tell my uncle about it.
As I entered the garden, my uncle rose with a large smile on his ruddy face and came toward me, holding out his hand with the appearance of great pleasure at my arrival.
“Alfred my boy!” he boomed. “Welcome! Good to see you!”
“Good to see you, too, Uncle,” I responded, taking the proffered hand. “I’d like to thank you and Aunt Martha for inviting me to spend the summer with you.”
“Not at all!” he exclaimed. “Our pleasure! We don’t get to see you that often and it’s a treat to have you.”
After having gotten my drink preference, he conveyed it to a maid who was standing next to my aunt and steered me to a chair that faced both of my hosts. We chatted happily over the drinks and brought everyone up with the family happenings including a minor scandal involving the pregnancy of a young schoolgirl who was sent away to be cared for by the matriarch of the family.
A light summer dinner followed the preprandial libations; later a good wine mixed with convivial conversation produced a pleasant, relaxed state that was most enjoyable. When we finally said good night, I felt that the summer had gotten off to a most salutary start.
As I began undressing for bed, I thought I heard voices coming from the closet. Puzzled, I investigated and found that they were coming from the hole in the closet wall. Entering the closet fully, I pulled the doors to and put my eye to the hole. To my great surprise, I saw that the room into which the hole gave belonged to my aunt and uncle! Fascinated, I continued to watch and shortly was greeted by the arrival of my aunt removing her dress; she remained clothed in her bodice and knickers. The sight apparently did more than fascinate my uncle; he shortly came up behind her, put his arms around her and cupped her breasts. She closed her eyes with a small smile on her face and leaned her head backward as my uncle began to nuzzle her neck and massage her breasts. I had been aware that my aunt was an attractive woman, of course; but the sight of her in her underthings with her breasts being massaged produced in me a reaction that I had never considered receiving from my mother’s sister. A shock went from the base of my spine upward and my manhood leaped forward creating a slightly uncomfortable bulge in my pants. I attempted to remove my pants while keeping my eye pressed against the hole, but this produced a ridiculously awkward situation; I removed my eye from the hole while quickly, but quietly, disrobing.
When I returned my eye to the hole, I found that things had progressed apace. My aunt’s bodice had been discarded and uncle was massaging her naked breasts from behind. They were indeed magnificent, with large dark aureoles, and the nipples distended magnificently. As I watched, she moved forward, pulled the covers down from the bed, got into it and moved to the opposite side. As she did this, uncle was removing his pants and shoes with alacrity and soon had gained the position next to her. His head bent over her and he began sucking the nipple of her right breast while he massaged her left breast with his hand. Her hands clasped behind his head and urged his mouth to greater motion. Her head went back and small moans began to escape from deep in her throat.
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