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year-old pussy. It had taken him awhile, but once he learned, hmmmmmmm.

Her stockings were held up by a black garter belt. She thought it contrasted well with her grey pubic hair. She'd turned grey early, including down there. It didn't seem to bother Desmond Jones.

Now, Paul Eckland was staring. She liked that. Young men were intrigued. Even though Mr. Eckland had relations with one of those Cavendish girls, she didn't think he took the time to take a good look. Now, he was staring.

"Mr. Eckland my pussy not only looks beautiful, but boys have told me it tastes delicious." She leaned back and spread her legs. Thus began Paul Eckland's journey into sexual bliss.

By his fourth visit to the headmistress' home, he'd become talented enough to easily bring her to orgasm. Her legs were spread; her prominent grey bush waiting for him. "Like that. You are my wonderful pussy pleaser, Paul. Keep using your tongue just like that. Right there. Hmmmmmmm, keep pleasing my pussy. Your tongue keeps getting better and better. Hmmmmmmmm."

He ate and ate. By the post-WWII era, the term eating pussy had become common. Not in polite company, of course. But then again, Miss Coldridge was not exactly in polite company. She was lying naked on her bed, and eighteen-year-old Paul Eckland was mumbling, "I want to be your pussy pleaser. Thank you for letting me please your pussy."

"That's my good boy."

An hour later, as she had perhaps her fourth orgasm, Miss Coldridge heard him moan. She was pleased, not just with her orgasm; she knew that young Paul had had his own orgasm. His pants would be soiled. For the time being she'd pretend not to notice. "Keep showing Miss Coldridge how much you love her pussy."

By the time, Paul Eckland finished for the day, the wet spot on the front of his pants had almost dried.

Miss Coldridge didn't say a word, but did pass the information on to her friend, Beatrice Farnsworth, the nurse at the Cavendish School. "Bea, young Mr. Eckland's tongue is just about ready for you, if you want it."

"I am, Henrietta, I am. It's been almost a year since Desmond graduated."

"I can tell you; Paul is a pussy pleaser. Once you've, well you know, that's like a signal for him to keep going and going and going, until you've had another and another and another."

"He sounds impressive."

"He is, he'll take your breath away. Oh, and he'll not only please your pussy, but it will give him his own pleasure. Nothing is better than noting that the front of his pants are damp when he's finished."

"You don't say? I don't think that's happened with any other boy. I can't imagine that pleasing my pussy would please his cock. I imagined that after Desmond Jones or one of the other boys who've tasted our pussies left us, they went to their dorm room and masturbated."

"Me, too. Masturbated, fantasizing about eating my pussy. Not Paul Eckland. You'll see."

Nurse Beatrice Farnsworth was a big woman. She was big all over: shoulders, breasts, thighs, ass. As a teenager, she'd discovered that even her clitoris was big. As big if not bigger than the male babies she changed in the maternity ward at the hospital where she trained.

She knew why he'd come to her house and he knew why he'd come to her house. Still, "Paul, have you thought about eating my pussy?"

When she spread her legs, and opened her pussy lips for Paul Eckland, he didn't hesitate. He knew what to do. "Henrietta has trained him well," Bea thought.

Her first orgasm had her big ass bouncing off the bed; young Paul along with it. "Miss Coldridge didn't have that kind of reaction," he thought.

He kept going, and mumbled through her thick, dark, but very fragrant bush, "please Miss Farnsworth, let me be your pussy pleaser."

She liked that he said ‘please.'

For her part, she wrapped those thick thighs around his head and fucked him. While his tongue fucked her pussy, Miss Farnsworth fucked Paul Eckland's face. Fuck would not be a word she'd Never used or even thought. Nurse Beatrice was after all a lady.

Although, she was in her late forties, Miss Farnsworth was still a virgin. No cock had been close to that big pussy, but now she was getting fucked by Paul's young tongue, and she was fucking it right back. It was the most magnificent thing ever, and he kept going and going.

In the months that followed, neither Miss Coldridge nor Miss Farnsworth could get enough of Paul's pussy pleaser, as they liked to call his tongue. It got to the point that he even called it that. As in, "Miss Farnsworth, I hope you're in the mood for my pussy pleaser today."

Beatrice Farnsworth was never NOT in the mood and neither was Henrietta Coldridge. And yes, it happened every time with Nurse Farnsworth, as it did with Miss Coldridge, Paul Eckland came in his pants.

Headmistress Coldridge could not have more delighted.

In contrast, Miss Coldridge's sister was unhappy. She was in an unhappy marriage. Fiona Leonard was married to Sir Richard Leonard who had been an advisor to Prime Minister Winston Churchill during the war. He claimed that the stress of the war had exhausted him and he'd not yet recovered.

Sir Richard was extremely competent, but difficult to work with. Winston called him Sir Dick, It wasn't a compliment and it stuck.

The truth was Sir Dick was exhausted by the insatiable twenty-one-year-old, Violet Archer, daughter of another of Churchill's advisors. Violet discovered the joy of cocks when she was eighteen and a guest of the US government during the war.

She liked looking at cocks; she liked playing with cocks. Most of all she liked fucking and sucking cocks. To her great joy, Sir Dick Leonard, on a diplomatic visit to Washington found her youth fascinating. Not just her youth, but her pussy. He no longer showed any interest in his wife, Fiona's fifty-year-old pussy. By fascinated, I mean he was intrigued with Violet Archer's taste.

Their affair continued after the war.

"Fiona, you seem so despondent. What is it? How can I help? Her sister, Henrietta Coldridge asked, a year after her first encounter with Paul Eckland.

"I'm not sure what you can do, Henrietta. Dick hasn't shown any interest in me in years."

"I thought you two had a wonderful marriage."

"During the war, like everyone, we put up a good front. I'm not sure there's anything that could cheer me up; my love life is over."

"Let me tell you a secret." Henrietta whispered in her sister's ear. The more she talked, the bigger Fiona's eyes got, the more Henrietta talked, the wetter Fiona's panties got. "His tongue?"

Henrietta nodded.

"And my . . ."

Her sister nodded again.

The ‘marital happiness booklet' she received before her wedding made a brief mention of what Henrietta was talking about, but she'd never allowed Sir Dick to . . . no, she'd shaken her head as a blushing bride.

Now, "sis, do you think you could convince this Mr. Eckland to court me. Richard will be in London for another week or two."

"Fiona, there is no courting." Henrietta whispered again, "Paul will come to your house; you will wear the kind of lingerie you wore on your honeymoon, and that's all. Then you'll take it off for him."

She was shocked at her sister's words. Her unmarried, spinster sister's words.

Fiona's shock continued when Mr. Paul Eckland arrived. ‘He's not even twenty-years-old,' the fifty-year-old thought to herself. "Mrs. Leonard, would you like to show me your bedroom?"

‘How brazen?' she thought, but she led him to her bedroom. She'd taken her sister's advice and worn a white, almost transparent, floor-length negligee sans undergarments; she felt naked. She was a tall, thin woman, like her sister. Her breasts were small, and sagged on her chest.

Like her sister, she was prematurely grey. Unlike her sister, she had insisted her hairdresser color it an unnatural looking blonde. Of course, her hairdresser could do nothing ‘down there,' nor would anyone at the time suggest such a thing.

‘Down there' Fiona Leonard was almost pure white.

Standing by her bed, she turned. Young Mr. Eckland put her arms around her waist, and then his tongue was in her mouth. ‘This is much too fast,' Fiona thought.

Then it got faster. Paul started lifting the bottom of her nightgown, until it was bunched above her waist. "Perhaps, you should sit on the edge of the bed," he mumbled with his tongue still in her mouth.

Over the next few hours, Paul Eckland would do a lot of mumbling.

When Fiona sat, he got on his knees and spread her legs. "Oh, Mrs. Leonard, you have the most beautiful pussy. I'm sure it tastes as beautiful as it looks."

Not even her husband had ever talked to her like that. Then his tongue started. Like most, if not all boys his age, there wasn't much foreplay. Neither Nurse Farnsworth nor Fiona's sister, Henrietta Coldridge schooled Paul Eckland in foreplay. His tongue went right for her clitoris. A place, that after almost thirty years of marriage her husband had yet to discover.

It didn't happen instantly. Paul's mumbling helped, "Mrs. Leonard, your pussy is delicious," and a few minutes later, "Ma'am, I hope I can please your pussy."

By this time, her hands were involuntarily on his head, holding it in place. "Oooooooooh, ooooooooooh, ooooooh, Mr. Eckland, Ooooooooooh, Mr. Eckland."

The traits that Miss Coldridge and Nurse Farnsworth instilled in young Mr. Eckland included stamina. He ate and ate. "Ooooooooh, Mr. Eckland." Of course, they also directed him to their happy little button.

"You have the most delicious pussy," he mumbled.

Then it happened for Fiona Leonard. It had never happened with her husband. Never. "OOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOH, MR. ECKLAND."

As she was enjoying that first orgasmic high, "Mrs. Leonard, I hope I was your pussy pleaser."

"Oh, Mr. Eckland, yes, oh yes, Please Mr. Eckland, please my pussy again."

Paul Eckland did not need instruction. As I said, he ate and ate. His tongue tantalizing her clitoris.

As for Fiona Leonard. She had one orgasm after another. She was drenched in sweat. At one point, she pulled that sheer negligee over her head; she was so warm. It wasn't until later that she noticed that she was completely naked, spread-eagle for young Paul to see.

Before he arrived, if you had told Fiona she'd look like this, she would have been too embarrassed to allow him into her home. Now, she didn't even notice as she enjoyed her orgasmic bliss.

Neither did young Paul. He didn't notice her breasts. After initially noticing her almost pure white bush, all he noticed was her deliciousness, and "I hope I'm pleasing your pussy," he mumbled again. His tongue gently massaged her clitoris again. "You have the tastiest pussy."

"Ooooooooooh, ooooooooooh, oooooooooh, Mr. Eckland. Yes, please my pussy, please it just like that. Just like that. OOOOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOOOH."

Pussy was a word that until today had not been in her vocabulary except when she was talking about her cat. Now, when she wasn't moaning loudly, she was purring like her cat.

Mrs. Fiona Leonard was walking on air for almost a week. Nothing could wipe the smile off her face; not even the pending return of her husband.

Of course, Sir Dick had a smile on his face, too. Two days earlier, Young Violet Archer left his bed after one last weekend together. "Dick, are you sure I can't suck it again? I'll be bleeding for another few days. It's the only way I can satisfy the craving I have for your cock."

It worked out ideally for both Fiona Leonard and her husband Sir Dick. With her sister, Henrietta Coldridge's help, she was able to have a clandestine once a month tryst with young Paul Eckland. Before she could ask if he'd thought about eating her pussy, Paul took her in his arms, "Mrs. Leonard all I've thought about since the last time we were together was the taste of your pussy. Let me please your pussy."

As for her husband, he used his influence to have Miss Violet Archer admitted to an all-girls university in Manchester. He found an excuse to be away from home for a few days each month, preferably when she was having her monthly, as it was commonly referred to at the time.

Violet Archer was pleased every time she heard that he would be coming to see her. She thought it ironic, that almost all his visits coincided with her monthly. She'd have to ask him about that, not that she was displeased. There was nothing Miss Archer loved better than pleasing Sir Dick with her mouth. She could make him last so much longer that way.

Yes, Sir Richard Leonard tracked young Violet's periods. Her mouth was marvelous; she just couldn't get enough of his cock. It was something that his wife, Fiona, had never shown an interest in. Young Violet wasn't just interested; she seemed infatuated with having his cock in her mouth.

As Paul Eckland used his tongue as a pussy pleaser, Violet Archer used her mouth to please Sir Dick's cock. Girls like her had come a long way from the admonition to "just cross your legs."

On those occasions when she wasn't having her monthly, Violet reminded him as she started to suck again, "I hope you don't mind, but it would be a disaster if I got pregnant."

"Not at all my dear. Now, be a good girl, and show Sir Dick's dick how much you enjoy pleasing it."

There was no hesitation on Miss Violet Archer's part. "I like that, and just so you know Richard, I can't imagine that there's anything better than to suck Sir Dick's dick," she giggled as she put it back in her mouth.

TO BE CONTINUED

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