And now for something completely different, as they say! This is for readers of Eighteenth Century mystery stories! The 'Dr Adam Bascom' books are a series of detective stories set in the late C18 in the county of Norfolk, England.
They are very entertaining, although they are written in a rather pedantic style - this I think is deliberate to mimic the way of writing of the period. The dialogue in particular is very formalised (it gets better with the later books!) The author William Savage is a very erudite person who also has an extensive 'history' blog on the period. He knows his subject inside out.
Unfortunately, one thing Mr Savage does not seem very good at is writing about sex. Well, that may not be fair, he may be very good at writing sex scenes but his publisher maybe has suggested he shouldn't be too suggestive! There's actually quite a lot of sex in the books, but the author's descriptions to be frank are so dry that any passion is totally rubbed out.
For example, Peter Lassimer, Dr Bascom's old friend makes a speciality of shagging young widows, a recurring theme in the books - but it's presented so dryly that it's more like a Sunday school outing! And Dr Bascom himself comes over as a rather holier than thou type -- he keeps his pecker in his pants until he gets married.
In reality, if he'd been running a bachelor household in the late C18 he would most likely have been shagging at least one of his female servants, probably Hannah the maid and maybe the cook, Mrs Brigstone, as well!
So, to help Mr Savage out, I've written an imaginary sex scene just to get things going. It features Lassimer and Miss Rose Thoday who features in book five, 'Death of a Good Samaritan'. Miss Rose was the housekeeper to a surgeon of the time, Mr Matthew Hawley, who sadly is murdered, but leaves his entire estate to Miss Rose:
*
Miss Rose gave a huge shudder and an even bigger sigh as her masturbation ended with the most satisfying deep orgasm. She had been lying for an hour fondling and rubbing herself down there...and thinking about what a good time she'd had last night with her chambermaid, Effie.
Effie used to work in the kitchen, Rose had promoted her to be her chambermaid on finding herself suddenly a lady of independent means and some wealth. Much handier for some quick action.
Mr Hawley's death had been an awful thing, indeed it still was, but it had a silver lining. Rose had been from a very minor landed gentry family, but they had fallen on hard times. Mr Hawley had offered Rose a job as his housekeeper, herb gardener and general factotum. It was a comedown in life, but at least it was a living.
Now, all was changed, Mr Hawley had left his entire estate - house, contents, cash and bonds to her. She wasn't rich, but she now had some status in local Society. Best of all, as she was now of independent means, she had no need to marry and thus give her new found wealth to a husband.
When it came to men, she was quite feisty and not afraid to speak her mind. Indeed, she wasn't even sure if she
liked
men, all hairy and sharp bits, but she did fantasise about their pricks all day long...some of Mr Hawley's anatomy books were
very
interesting.
So now she was wrestling with a new problem. She was still at the age of twenty-eight a virgin -- well, sort of a virgin, she'd had plenty of things up her but not an actual man's penis. As a servant, she could have got herself shagged anytime - just gone along to The Anchor pub, but it would have ruined her reputation. Now, as a woman of independent means, she could raise her sights and as long as she was discreet do as she liked.
In particular, she had her sights on Peter Lassimer. She knew him quite well. He regularly bought her herbs for his apothecary business. But they had quite a cool relationship, very businesslike. For her part, that was because she lusted after him but as a servant she was sure he wouldn't want to dally with her. Many's the hour she had spent daydreaming about having his prick up her. It must be big, she thought, otherwise all these widows wouldn't throw themselves at him.
And now, she had learnt from Dr Bascom that the
real
reason he seemed to show no interest in her was because he was scared stiff of her! It seemed he liked his women rather pudding like, a little overweight and with air in their head. Apparently her no-nonsense businesslike ways terrified him!
Well, now that she was his social equal, if not above him,
that
was going to change. That very morning she would go up to see him and demand that he fuck her!
Oh, there she was doing it again, she would ask him
very
nicely if he would
very
kindly fuck her...? Fortunately, it was perfectly within the mores of Society that she should call unannounced as he ran a shop. She opened the door and a little bell tinkled somewhere. Peter came through into the shop.
'Ah, Miss Rose, how nice to see you. But I didn't think I had any herbs on order? Can I help you with something?'
'Yes, Mr Lassimer, but can we talk privately? In your parlour?'
Peter thought that this was very unconventional and slightly outside the bounds of propriety, but Miss Rose was now a lady of means and it must be something important.
'Yes, of course, come this way,' he said lifting the counter flap and leading the way through to his parlour.
They sat down on facing seats, 'What can I do for you?'
'I'd like you to put your...
thing
in me...to have intercourse...for you to shag me...to...to...fuck me,' she got it out in a rush.
Not too surprisingly, Peter was flabbergast and it took him a minute to gather his thoughts. But in the same minute, he felt his member starting to rise. He'd lusted over Miss Rose for months now and if she wanted fucked, then he was sure he could oblige...
'Well...yes...when...and where do you want to do it?'
'Right here, right now...lock the door,' she said.
Peter got up obediently, walked over and turned the key. At the same time as he walked over and back he undid the buttons on his trouser flap.
When he got back, Miss Rose hadn't been idle either - she'd lain back on the sofa, pulled her skirt, petticoats and chemise up over her waist and opened her legs displaying her fanny. She had no underwear on, women rarely wore any small things in those days.
Peter gasped as he caught sight of her big fanny. Miss Rose was quite thin, but from hard work, not undernourishment. As a result, her mound stood well proud of her thighs below a fine large bush of dark brown hair. Her inner lips were big and protruded from her slit. The whole now glistened with her juice. Quite one of the largest, most beautiful cunts Peter had ever seen. He pulled out his now fully erect cock from inside his pants. Now it was Miss Rose's turn to gasp - it was huge and fat!
'Could I ask, Miss Rose, before we begin, are you a virgin?'
'Well...yes...and no. I've not had a real cock up me, but I have penetrated myself with various things, more than once...well quite a lot, actually.'
Reassured that he would not be breaking her hymen, which could get quite messy, Peter leaned forward over her and rubbed his cock against her cunt lips. He eased forward and his big prick just slipped in. Her tunnel was wet all the way.
Rose let out an, 'Ohhhh...!' It was everything she had hoped for and expected. His huge hot fat cock pistoned in and out of her, but that wasn't all. She had thought of this first penetration quite...clinically. The important thing was just to get it done.
But the things Peter did to her fanny with his prick were just amazing. He seemed to know just when to stop doing one thing then move to another position or change his speed. Lucky widows.
With each sensation, Rose felt her whole pussy grow hotter and hotter and more sensitive. When Peter moved to rubbing his bulb end just against that super sensitive spot at the top just inside her fanny, she came with an explosive orgasm.