The Young Duke of Tupping

This work is copywrite Rem Innes and may not be reproduced without written permission

The Right Honourable Tristram Framlingham-Smythe sat in his father's study staring blind–eyed at the letter in front of him.

Still not quite believing what he had read he put the various pages of the letter in order and started reading again from the top:

"My dearest son (the letter began)

If you are reading this it is because, like all other mortals, I have passed on to what lies beyond.

Shortly, you will be assuming the family titles of Duke of Great Tupping and Viscount d'Enculade and you will be thrust into the duties and conventional responsibilities which will now dominate your public life. I wish you all success. Having said that, I have absolutely no doubt that you will conduct yourself with the dignity, integrity and honesty such duties require and entail.

As my health has been gradually deteriorating for some considerable time, I have been taking steps to try to ease your path in some of the areas in which you may be neither well-advised nor currently well-skilled.

Alas, no time was available to arrange your introduction into one of the greatest areas of both potential bliss and danger a man can ever contemplate - the wiles of womanhood. Although fraught with danger, the female of the species can also be a source of eternal pleasure and enjoyment, if handled correctly.

Today, in the time of our good Queen Victoria, we are seemingly bound by the concept that bare flesh and nudity should never be publicly displayed, nor mentioned in polite society; and that the only reason men and women should have sexual intercourse is to procreate our species.

What utter tosh – sex between two consenting adults is probably the most gloriously enjoyable experience we will ever experience, if conducted in the correct circumstances. As I never had the time to discuss this, and God knows your mother would die if you ever uttered anything to her remotely inquisitively in this matter, I feel I must try and guide you from afar, as it were.

As I have said, your Mother, though I love her dearly, distinctly falls into the "sex for continuation of the family lineage only" group, for as you know, she even has the piano legs covered up – a Puritanical nonsense if ever there were one.

Now, what I am about to tell you must never be revealed to another soul (apart from one I shall discourse further upon shortly). On this matter I demand your word. If you cannot do this, then as an English gentleman, you must read no further and MUST destroy this letter at once. The honour and reputation of some very dear and sweet people depend on your complete discretion.

For the past year or so I have seen you casting veiled glances at the full figures and particularly the bosoms and derrieres of our female staff and visitors, so I am fairly sure you have a penchant for such and, THANK GOD, you have shown no inkling of a "liking" for members of your own sex.

As a result of your mother's frigidity in matters sexual I have had to, as a red-blooded Englishman, and this may shock you, resort to ladies outside wedlock for sexual gratification.

As such matters can cause major damage to reputations if ever revealed, where better to conduct such liaisons than within one's own walls?

I myself was introduced to the glories of sex by a wonderfully kind-hearted and jolly lady more than 30 years ago. Then a scullery maid, this lady is still employed within the household, and has continued to be a lover and, above all, a friend through all the intervening years. Knowing my views about your lack of sexual education she has graciously consented to act on my behalf to ensure you learn the requisite skills in this matter.

How she goes about this is purely up to her and you, and to your willingness to be assisted by a lady significantly older than you, albeit one who has, in my experience, an open and refreshingly enjoyable attitude to all matters sexual. Should you choose not to avail yourself of this munificent offer then at least allow her to guide you in the direction of others who are more to your taste, and who will equally be keen to broaden your education, for she is fully aware a gentleman's needs.

This lady's name is Mrs Annie Lovett our cook……….."

Stunned by this revelation I paused, trying to comprehend the idea of my slim and well-born pater riding our voluptuous, large-chested and huge-arsed, common-born cook, Mrs Lovett.

I must admit that she had frequently been a participant in many of my adolescent solo wishful sexual frolics, and often had I spurted copious amounts of sperm over, in and on imagined parts of her body, but never had I imagined that one day I would discuss any matters sexual with her.

I picked the letter from where I had left off, and continued reading …

"You may find this somewhat shocking and strange that I should mention the possibility of you assuming my position, as it were, with Mrs. Lovett. Have no fear, for although we have been friends and lovers for aeons, our relationship was mainly good friendship laced with mutual good-natured sexual need and gratification.

I must stress that if you do wish Mrs. Lovett's assistance then you must be very discreet, and should only approach her when you know her to be on her own, preferably during a period between meals when she will either be preparing food or would be in her rooms…."

Unable to read any more, my mind all a turmoil, Mr. Priapus achingly strutting and proud within my breeches, I carefully hid the letter in the secret drawer my father had shown me months earlier.

What to do?

After mulling this information to and fro for what seemed like hours, but was probably only mere minutes, I leapt up, and at a fairly brisk stride, headed towards the kitchens.

Moments later, as I neared the kitchen I espied Mrs. Lovett, bent over the table kneading dough. The sheer pleasure of watching her immense globes strain first left, then right against her pinafore covered blouse, was enough to make my mind up for me.

Standing slightly back in an attempt to overtly avoid drawing attention to myself I looked closer at this family fixture, who until shortly before, I would never have imagined would be anything other than a model of propriety.

What did I see? A lady very full of figure, about 5' 4", aged well past 50, with greying short-bobbed hair atop a friendly, lined face and, with the aforesaid monumental chest perfectly counterbalanced by a large but firm arse, all supported by broad thighs and sturdy legs. In short, not everyman's cup of tea, but to my inexperienced eye – wonderfully mature and earthy.

Sensing my presence she looked up and asked: "Can I help you Master Tristram?"

Suddenly overcome by doubt I stammered a reply, "P-Please M-Mrs Lovett, I need to discuss a private matter with you when you have finished."

A flash of understanding appeared in her eyes, and she blushed a delicate colour of pink from her neck upwards. "Young sir, I'll be finished 'ere in a few minutes," she replied. "If you'd like to come and see me in my room, we can discuss this further. Would 30 minutes be all right?".

Quickly agreeing, I scurried off before I could say or do anything to embarrass myself any further.

29 minutes and 45 seconds later I approached her door, which I tentatively tapped. As if on cue, it was immediately opened and I was quickly ushered inside.

"What can I do for you, young Master?" she gently enquired.

"W – w – w – well, M-m-mrs. L-l-l-l-ovett," I stammered, greatly confused as to where to start.

Sensing my discomfort, she softly asked: "Would it 'ave something to do with a letter your dear, dear father wrote to you, shortly before his sad passing?"

"Y-yes", I stuttered, my eyes drawn to Mrs Lovett's gargantuan chest as it strained against the confines of her blouse. "You know of the letter?" I asked, somewhat stupidly.

"Of course", she confidently replied. "Your father and me were very close. We've been friends as well as lovers for over 30 years now. I'm pleased to say he trusted me completely. So when 'e knew 'e was dying, we discussed ways and means of ensuring that you completed that side of your education not taught in the fancy schools you've been sent to. He was particularly concerned that you did not make any stupid mistakes – like marrying the first girl you tupped, or getting one of the maids pregnant,"

"Oh", I muttered, realising that Mrs. Lovett was indeed well versed in the contents of Pater's letter.

"… and have you had time to think about what assistance you require me to give you", she asked coyly, whilst slowly leaning further back on the chaise was seated upon.

As her comments intruded into my thinking, I instinctively realised she was displaying herself for my approval. This simple act of her proudly thrusting out her magnificent chest in my direction caused my cock to swell within the confines of my all too tight breeches, yet at the same time gave me a significant boost in my confidence. This experienced woman wanted me!!!!

Before I could answer, she surreptitiously lowered her gaze and, seeing the large lump in my drawers, smiled hugely.

Sitting up and moving to the edge of the chaise, she cooed, "Come here Young Master, I fear you will have an accident unless we quickly ease some of the tension you are feeling".

As I stepped toward her she moved both her hands to the front of my breeched and deftly began undoing the buttons. Within seconds my breeches slipped to the floor, quickly followed by my drawers, at the same time undoing several buttons on her blouse.

Leaning forward, she murmured "Oh what a luvvly cock. Poor boy, you must be bursting." Then she opened her mouth and gently fed my tumescent cock inside.

Oh!! The sensations as she swirled her tongue around its head, all the while sucking and cooing, were completely unbelievable.

Within mere seconds my legs started to shake and I could feel a cataclysmic build up of pressure. Briefly letting my rod slip from her mouth, she murmured, "Let it go, Young Master," and with that rammed her lips over the end of my rod just as I started to spurt like I had never done when masturbating on my own.

Blast after blast of hot spend shot into her mouth and, though she gamely tried to swallow it all, it rapidly started spewing out of the side of her mouth. Realising that she could not cope with it all she aimed my still gushing cock at her magnificent chest and continued to milk all she could, until it was evident there was no more.

She then lay back with a sigh, a smile playing gently at the corner of her mouth as she greedily licked any of my spend which her tongue could reach. This buxom, aging mother, lay there with her partially visible magnificent chest liberally coated with globs of my spending.

So enamoured was I with the turn of events and the picture before me that Mr. Priapus remained as firm as steel.

Opening her eyes she looked me in the eye, smiled then looked down, and gasped. Seeing that I had not wilted she rapidly pulled up her skirt and under skirts, revealing her meaty thighs…. and no drawers. A beautiful, hairless, reddish–purple slit slightly gaped open at the junction of her thighs, and glistened with an oozing clear liquid.

"Quick" she said, grabbing my throbbing cock and pulling me towards her.

Grasping my buttocks she lined me up and pulled me in – straight into that hot, warm wet cavern – oh what absolute bliss. Her mouth had been absolutely wonderful – yet this was indescribable.

Pushing me away and then pulling me back, she soon had me moving in the manner she wanted. Once she was satisfied I would continue thus, she removed her hands from my buttocks, hoisted her thick thighs up around my back, and began stroking her own mammaries, at the same time scooping up any of my recent spend and greedily sucking every drop off her fingers.

Within seconds her thighs tightened around me, and she cried out: " Oh God, I'm spending. Dear Master, I'm spending."

As her quivering subsided, her eyes flew open and she cried out again, "Yes… oh yes!" This time her reactions were so acute, she clamped her muscles tightly around my cock; the increased friction was such that within seconds I exploded in her. At this she seemed to faint away as yet another spend overcame her.

After such a bout my dick subsided and slowly slipped out of her haven.

Taking a tottery pace back I marvelled at the raw sexuality of the scene in front of me: a seemingly proper, middle-aged mother lying there, chest heaving with her thighs wide apart showing my essence slowly seeping from her cunny.

Oh, what an image if there were only a way this image could be recorded!!!!!!!

"Well" she murmured, languidly stirring. "I think you're going to be just fine, young sir….. after a with a few more lessons".

(to be continued……. maybe)

Rem Innes 2005