Bertie Saves the Day
By Alex Barton
Bertie Brewster knew for a fact that misfortune always came to him in threes. He would never forget the occasion when, as a young subaltern at the Battle of Amiens in August 1918, he waited in the pre-dawn for the signal to attack to come through and lit his pipe for a quick smoke to calm his nerves. He was just about to extinguish the match, mindful that an enemy sniper might have seen the flare, when a fellow officer requested a light which Bertie obliged. But then a passing squaddie asked for a light for his cigarette, took it and promptly slid lifeless to the floor of the trench, a red hole blossoming in his forehead.
While he would never claim that walking through the lingerie department of Selfridges department store ten years later counted as an equal misfortune, Bertie felt distinctly uneasy to be faced with a vast number of women's lacy undergarments, having taken a wrong turn on his way to the store's tearoom where he had arranged to meet his cousin, Lady Honoria Glossop. And his uneasiness was greatly increased by the fact that he was carrying a small dog under his coat.
Said canine, his mother's pedigree Pekinese, was thus hidden because his mother was suffering from an unfortunate cold and, solicitous of her welfare, Bertie had dropped in at the family home to enquire after her wellbeing. Pressed to walk Pixie Frou-Frou, a dog he loathed almost as much as he disliked its name, Bertie decided it would be unfair for the ladies engaged in shopping to be concerned that a curious canine was staring up their skirts so he bent and picked up said doggy bundle and hid it, a move Pixie Frou-Frou stoutly resisted.
It was, therefore, hardly surprising that The Law of Three exerted itself. The squirming dog suddenly burst forth and jumped from Bertie's arms to the store's carpet where it proceeded to entangle its lead in Bertie's legs, pitching him forward against the drawn curtain which covered the entrance to the women's changing cubicle. Unable to arrest his forward motion, Bertie's face was propelled between the cheeks of a naked young woman possessed of an extremely pretty, and extremely bare, backside.
Struggling to breathe, harassed by the yapping dog, aware an assistant might appear at any moment, Bertie had no choice but to open his mouth whereupon his tongue made contact with the young lady's sweet-smelling anus which, in better circumstances, would have delighted Bertie and given him a most respectable cockstand, large pricks being a notable attribute of the men in his family.
The young lady, whose breasts Bertie was able to note as he pitched forward, were both very large and hung down fetchingly, promptly straightened up and pushed his face from where it was lodged and, in a voice Bertie immediately recognized, said somewhat sharply, "Bertie, darling, you might at least have
asked
first..." and Bertram realized his nose and tongue had been pressed against the voluptuous
derrière
of his own dear cousin Honoria.
"So sorry, old thing," Bertie said, standing up and turning bright red with embarrassment at the same moment.
The stunningly beautiful and gorgeously nude Honoria reached for Pixie Frou-Frou's lead, yanked the dog back into the changing room, bent and picked it up thereby making her glorious breasts jiggle most prettily, her nipples standing out as impressive evidence of her not being indifferent to Bertie's presence, and thrust said canine into his arms.
"Bertie, go upstairs and secure a table for afternoon tea. Order a selection of iced fancies and a pot of Earl Grey and I shall be there as soon as I have dressed and paid for my purchases. Understood?"
"Of course, Honoria darling," Bertie said, suddenly uncomfortable because his prick was as hard as an iron bar yet trapped down his left trouser leg. His cousin really
was
the most strikingly pretty young woman he realized and he would have given a king's ransom to be able to suckle her pretty pink nipples hovering only a few inches from his open mouth.
However this was not the time for professing undying love, or at least rampant desire, and he went to do as instructed.
*
"That really was too funny," Honoria said with a laugh as she poured a second cup of tea for Bertie and herself, chose a particularly sugary iced fancy and slipped a sliver of the sponge under the table to a now perfectly-well-behaved Pixie Frou-Frou.
"And not really my fault," Bertie said, hoping his cousin's affection for him had not been damaged by his close encounter with her beautiful bottom.
"But you weren't exactly hating every second, were you?" Honoria said slyly, reaching her hand under the table and leaning forward so she could simultaneously demonstrate to Bertie her delight that he was still aroused from his encounter with her bare bottom and that, while she might have been
buying
underwear, she wasn't currently
wearing
any to conceal her beautiful breasts, their creamy-white slopes clearly visible down the neckline of her silk top, a most pleasing sight to Bertram in combination with his beautiful cousin's prick-caressing fingers.
"Now listen," Honoria said, not ceasing her caresses for a moment. "It is Mummy and Daddy's fortieth wedding anniversary this weekend so you're going to instruct Reeves to pack your bags, extract the Bentley from the garage, and pick me up on Friday afternoon. Does that sound like fun?"
Too well-mannered to say a resounding no when it came to spending an entire weekend with his uncle, a retired general, and his battle-axe of a wife, but too enamored of Honoria to say no, especially if there was a chance of he and Honoria sharing a bed and for her to caress his naked rather than clothed cock prior to his entering one or more of the orifices of her exquisite body, his preference being the one he had recently had his nose and tongue in close proximity to in the lingerie department, Bertie immediately agreed.
"Wonderful!" Honoria said, her skilled fingers bringing Bertie to a most delightful orgasm which he did his best to conceal by leaning across and kissing her so he could stifle his groan of ecstasy and not scandalize watching patrons who might well have reported back to his mother that her son had apparently emptied the contents of his balls into his trousers in the tearoom of Selfridges.
"Goodness old thing, that
was
nice," Bertie said as he sat back in his chair, a somewhat dazed expression on his face.
"The men's room is over there," Honoria said with a soft laugh and bent down to scoop up the miniature dog, having offered to return it to the care of Mrs. Brewster causing Bertie to sigh with barely suppressed longing as he watched her beautiful bottom bouncing as she exited, the perfectly coordinated movement of each cheek a miracle of feminine engineering that never failed to amaze him.
*