The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

Delicious stabs of desire ran through my body as she sucked my cock and I moaned in frustration when I realised that the spunk was already about to shoot up from my balls. But Miranda sensed this and prudently took her sweet lips away for a few moments. Then she returned to the attack as she slicked her tongue along the sensitive underside of my aching penis, making my tool throb with an ever-increasing urgency. She clasped my cock in her fist and bobbed her head up and down my beefy shaft until I could no longer contain myself. My lusty tool pulsed in her mouth as I let out a hoarse cry and jetted spurts of salty warm jism down her throat, and Miranda continued to milk my prick to the utmost, swallowing every drop of my copious emission. She purred with satisfaction and planted a swift series of butterfly kisses along the shaft of my gleaming cock which had lost only a small proportion of its thick stiffness. “That was delicious, Henry, your manly essence has such a fresh, tangy taste. I'm afraid there's only room for what I believe is commonly known as a knee-trembler but what would you say to a quick little fuck?' 'Yes, please,' I stammered. Miranda gave a throaty chuckle. 'Good, I fancy one too,' she replied as she unhooked her skirt, Standing against a stack of books which reached up to the ceiling she pulled me towards her and sank her wicked wet tongue into my mouth. Then she slid her fist around my cock and rubbed it up till it was again standing fully erect and guided it between the lips of her hairy pussey. My senses reeled as our bodies rocked sinuously together whilst I pounded in and out of her juicy cunt, my hands clasping her delicious bum cheeks as we lost ourselves in the passion of this wild coupling. Alas, I could not wait till Miranda achieved her climax and with a low groan I flooded her honeypot with my spermatic libation. My cock was in no condition to perform a third time so I finished off the dear girl with my fingers. Also, I must confess that in the heat of the moment, we knocked over a small pile of books and a mix of my spunk and Miranda's cuntal liquids left large wet marks on the front cover of a reprint of the early eighteenth century classic, Fanny Hill. We could hardly report the damage, and as Miranda later said to me with a giggle, at least the stains were from appropriate sources! When we had dressed ourselves, I unlocked the door and we made our way back to the attendant where I gave him back the key. 'Thank you, sir. I can see it was worth the money,' he leered, looking down at my groin, Following his look, I realised with no little horror that a third button must have joined its fellows in the annexe and that although my cock was not swinging free, my drawers could be seen through the gap at the front of my trousers. Miranda was quick witted enough to come to my rescue by snatching a raincoat from a cloakstand. 'Put this on,' she ordered.

'As soon as we get back to your rooms, you can change and then come straight back here and return the raincoat to its rightful owner. If necessary, you can always apologise and say that you slipped it on by mistake. But with any luck, he'll never even know that you've borrowed it.' And she was right. Thankfully, the gentleman whose raincoat I filched from the Bodleian Library never knew that his garment had been borrowed for a mission of mercy. No accusing hand was laid on my shoulder after I hung up the coat again on the stand and with a huge sigh of relief, I ran back to Miranda who was waiting for me in the quadrangle. 'Mission accomplished, ma'am,' I grinned. There was just time for me to take Miranda to Mrs. Clark's Tea Rooms for a celebratory fight luncheon of mulligatawny soup, cold roast beef and salad and a rhubarb tart, for I had no wish to miss a minute of her stepbrothers' first lecture of the term. 'You must hurry back to college, Henry,' said Miranda as we rose from our table. 'But I'm in no hurry so I shall visit the Sheldonian Theatre which is only two minutes' away from here. Then I'm very happy to stroll back to the hotel by myself.' 'Very well, but can we meet again this evening?' I asked. But she shook her head. 'I'm afraid not, my dear, Kit is squiring me to some important party. However, I'm free tomorrow night, and I insist that you come to dinner at the Randolph as my guest. I'll send a note round confirming this later today.

Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy Kit's lecture, you must tell me all about it tomorrow might.'*** Diary, it did not immediately strike me what a novel idea Miranda was proposing – after all, who has ever heard of a girl taking a boy out for a meal! Anyhow, I have accepted her offer and am greatly anticipating the 'dessert'.