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* * * * * Late one Wednesday afternoon during the last week of July, 1952, I was sitting at my desk in my room at Oxford. I was trying to concentrate on an essay that I was writing that was required by Friday, and was far from finished, when my roommate Tony came rushing in. Tony was a rather excitable sort of chap, and something obviously was up. ‘James, old pal,’ he said, ‘what are you doing this weekend?’ It was the August Bank Holiday weekend, which of course meant that there were no lectures on Monday. ‘Well, I hadn’t really made any plans,’ I replied. ‘Thought I might just go down to London and visit my parents.’ ‘What would you say to a weekend in the country?’ asked Tony. A weekend in the country, I thought, in what promised to be glorious summer weather. I knew that Tony’s parents owned an estate somewhere in Buckinghamshire, although I didn’t know exactly where it was. It certainly sounded better than spending three days at my parent’s town house in London. ‘Sounds good!’ I. He thrust in and out rapidly and my mouth dropped open into an "O" shape as my already scrambled mind tried to assimilate the flood of new information it was receiving.To add to the confusion, his other hand moved under me and began rubbing against my clit! I squirmed and twisted rubbing my legs together–anything to try to make sense of all this. But Brian didn't want me to be able to make sense out of what was happening to me. He didn't want me to get accustomed to his actions. He wanted me off balance and off guard. He intentionally mixed things up so I wouldn't know what was coming next and couldn't prepare myself. Each new twist or action was a surprise and only drove me deeper into my lust."Ohhh, Brian! Oh God, baby, you're going... to make me cum again! Oh, fuck! Ohhh!" I cried as his fingers twisted and wriggled inside me. Now I knew what butter felt like–he was churning my pussy to a froth! I had dropped my chest down on the bed and thrust my ass high in the air for him,.
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