The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

'I'm so glad you enjoyed my cuisine. Monsieur Escoffier himself taught me how to prepare all the dishes I know.' As she spoke, the young man on the floor groaned and I suggested that a glass of rum might revive him. 'Well maybe, but only a small one,' she agreed hesitantly as I moved across to the table and poured out a small measure for the lad. 'Otherwise he'll fall asleep and there's a heck of a lot of washing up for him to get through before he starts peeling the potatoes for dinner.' Happily, a swig of the dark sweet spirit did the trick for Colin, although he still looked groggy as he scrambled to his feet and of course his cock had shrivelled up and was dangling loosely between his thighs. On Maggie's advice, he pulled on his clothes and staggered upstairs to lie down for half an hour's rest before coming back to tackle the pile of dirty dishes which were stacked up in the sink. After he left us, Maggie Crompton slipped her knickers into a drawer and then produced two more glasses and a bottle of Hennessy's three star cognac and insisted that I joined her in a drink. Now I am no gourmet but I pride myself on being able to appreciate good brandy. Therefore I was pleased to accept her offer, although I eyed with some trepidation the large measure she handed to me. So Maggie and I enjoyed a nice chat, during which she told me of her exciting days working with the great Monsieur Escoffier at a Paris hotel. After a time she formed a liaison there with an Italian sous-chef with whom she left for London and then Cheltenham where they purchased the Montpellier Restaurant with the idea to provide a high-quality eating house for the citizens of and many visitors to the city. Alas, they found that the burghers of Cheltenham were suspicious of anything except plain English fare and Arturo Volpe, her partner in the venture, soon sloped off to Turin leaving Maggie to run the restaurant single-handed. 'Oh, I could manage in the kitchen well enough without him,' she remarked when I said that these must have been dreadfully difficult times for her.

'But I'll be honest, Mr. Dashwood, I don't half miss him between the sheets after work – and I still do! I love rumpy-pumpy and a dildo is a poor substitute, I can tell you! Arturo hasn't got the biggest cock in the world, but I've never been one for sheer size. What is more important is that he knew how to get me going by tickling my clitty with his knob.' 'Is that so?' I asked politely. My own cock, which had already been excited by the letter I had been reading began to thicken again. As Maggie had been speaking, her hand had strayed down and pulled up her skirt and she was now rubbing her forefinger gently along her half-hidden cleft. Then, with a faraway look, she sighed and slipped first one and then a second finger inside her pink quim. I was not sure quite how to react to the situation but the brandy had loosened my tongue and I said boldly: 'Don't mind me, though I would be pleased to help. More hands make lighter work, h'm?'

'You are kind,' she said, reaching out and squeezing my arm. 'I'm just about ready to accommodate another finger or two. Then Maggie hauled herself up and murmured: 'I've an even better idea. If you frig me from behind, our fingers will be able to meet in the middle.' 'By all means,' I said, smacking my lips as she turned round and, throwing up her skirt over her back as she bent down, flaunted a mouth-wateringly plump pair of smooth bum cheeks in my face. With one hand I parted her buttocks and slid my fingers into the crevice between the jiggling globes until my fingertips were gently caressing and exploring the luxuriant, dark jungle of her splendid thatch of cunney hair. Maggie squealed as the tip of one finger touched her fleshy clitty and then she removed her own hand from her crotch to whip off her dress and chemise so that all the charms of her luscious naked body were revealed to me. 'Oh, that's lovely! I just adore having my titties played with,' she purred as I kissed the back of her neck and slid my arm round her ribs and tweaked one of her large raspberry nipples which rose up in salute between my fingers. Meanwhile, her clitty had now fully erected under my touch and Maggie urged me on, sliding her cunney back and forth against my well-lubricated fingers whilst she moaned in ecstasy.

Her cuntal juices flowed out copiously from her crack when I plunged my fingers in and out of her love funnel. 'M'mm, that's simply divine,' panted the randy cook when I trapped her clitty between my fingers and she added breathlessly. 'Please will you finish me off with a doggie-style fuck, there's a dear.' Now my uncle, Sir Robert Bacon, has warned me against poking my prick into strange pussies, so initially I hesitated, but when I related this incident to Julian Clayton later in the evening, I was glad that he agreed with me that it would have been churlish to have ignored her heartfelt plea.