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.'