“Too…too…too big, Harold!” she moaned.

A grunt came from her enamorata. Further fumbling ensued and then his breeches slid down his trunklike thighs, betraying to my gaze the sight of his large testicles in profile beneath his manly organ which had but nestled its head twixt her bottom cheeks.

“Nonsense, Helen, you have taken it before.”

His knees bent slightly and he seized her hips, relinquishing at last his grip upon her neck. A further moan came from her. The table trembled visibly, heavy as it was, the surface shimmering in the light.

“OH!” moaned she, though it seemed scarce a complaint but rather a petulant utterance of compliance.

With that the thick shaft urged in and evidently sank some three inches within her puckered rosette, causing its recipient to screw up her eyes and bite her lower lip. I knew not then of course whether she was in agony or in the throes of sweet enjoyment. Her large bottom endeavoured to wriggle sideways, but was held.

“Ah, dear love, what a bottom, what warmth, what tightness! You are as fetching as you were ten years ago,” my uncle growled. His features strained and grew ever redder. A tall, bulky man, the power of his loins was all too evident to me-not to say also to Mrs. Witherington-Carey who received inch by inch his powerful prodder. For a moment she appeared to grit her teeth. Her eyes had a look of anguish that might also, as I even then surmised, cloak an uprising feeling of passion. A little cry from both and the shaft was fully embedded.

Patting her flanks and caressing her stockinged thighs, my uncle thus held her, savouring no doubt the plump rondeur of her nether cheeks against his belly. Her shoulders hunched, relaxed, and then she uttered a whimper.

“Part your legs, dearest-straddle them-hold well. Is it not delicious?”

Helen's eyes and lips opened simultaneously. She was as one entranced. A gentle movement of her hips sufficed then to show me the pleasure she was evidently sustaining. A soft humming sound issued from her throat.