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Reproduction of 'THE OYSTER' erotic magazine published in London in 1883 VOL. 1 ch-03 for all erotica lovers. Part of the treasure I found in London containing classic, Age-old, Erotic books, Novels, and Magazines probably collected by my Ancestors. They are all timeless and precious. They are a must-read for all erotica lovers.
THE OYSTER- VOLUME 1 CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS a glorious summer day and, as good fortune would have it, my day was free of scholastic work as Doctor White had decreed that on such a beautiful morn, his senior charges would be best occupied in activities of a physical nature. Although his progressive ideas were shared by few of the parents, they all agreed that the good Doctor was always mindful of his boys’ physical as well as mental well-being.

Ah. yes, mens sana in corpore sano (a healthy mind in a healthy body) was a maxim dear to his heart and this is why that fine July morning saw me stride out through the fields, my rucksack on my back filled with my luncheon sandwiches and a jacket to slip on in case the weather changed, which at first seemed unlikely.

It was just after ten o’clock when I left Nottsgrove to walk to a favourite spot of mine, Lapping’s Meadow, some two miles north of High Barnet. As I walked briskly along Oaklands Lane I became aware of what I believed to be a figure behind me that seemed to be keeping pace for pace with me. The sensation of being followed is a disagreeable one and I began to wonder if I were to be attacked by a footpad, though such crimes were virtually unknown in that sparsely populated area.

I quickened my steps and at once was conscious that the figure behind me was doing the same. Soon the path was clear of trees and I became ashamed of my first apprehensions. After all, the Queen’s Highway was free for one and all to use. The steps dogged me as I walked on enjoying my exercise. But though it had been bright and clear when I left the school, as I crossed the main Barnet road the air began to smell of rain. It was still warm when I sat down on a mossy bank between the road and the fields of a jolly local farmer, Mr Morrison, whose sixteen-year-old daughter, Louella, was a young lady much admired by all at Nottsgrove. She was one of Tennyson’s rosebud garden of girls, a miniature of conventional English beauty with gold-dusted light-brown hair and soulfully expressive dark brown eyes, a most exquisite and charming girl who had attended the occasional cricket match between Nottsgrove and the local club of which her brother Harry was a noted member.

I allowed my rucksack to rest against the slope of the hillock and the skin of my back haled warm moisture. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned, at peace with the world. But then the first drops of a summer shower blew against my face and I stood up reluctantly and readjusted my pack. I was about to walk across the field to take shelter in a barn only some two hundred yards away when I stopped abruptly as I saw the figure that had been following me for the previous mile or so. It was none other than Louella Morrison and I blushed to think that this lovely girl had frightened me into thinking that I was in some kind of danger.

‘Good morning, Miss Morrison,’ I called out. ‘Have you been following me? I thought I heard someone behind as I was walking.’

‘Indeed I have, Andrew,’ she replied shyly. ‘I would have called out to you but you looked deep in thought and I had no wish to disturb your meditations.’

‘That was most thoughtful, of you but, indeed, my mind was engaged upon nothing more than admiring the scenery. Now, alas, the rain has interrupted any such thoughts I might have had. Let us walk briskly to your father’s barn and shelter ourselves from this unfortunate shower,’ I said.

‘Yes, let us do so,’ she replied with a little smile. We stepped out smartly, when Louella stumbled and, with a grimace of pain, hobbled along as quickly as she could.

‘Miss Morrison, I am so sorry, let me help you.’ I said and took hold of her arm and placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘is that better? Come, let us see if you can walk.’

‘Thank you, Andrew,’ she said, but I could see that she was in pain.

‘Permit me,’ I said and taking hold of her with my left arm behind her back, lifted her off her feet and carried her to the barn door which was slightly ajar. Once inside, I gently let her down by a pile of newly-mown hay. ‘Are you alright?’ I enquired.

‘Well, yes, I think I am. Let me take a few paces. Ah, that is better, I think it was nothing more than a slight strain and I am fully recovered. Thank you so much for helping me.’ And to my astonishment and delight she gave me a full kiss on my cheek.

‘Why, Miss Morrison,’ I stammered.

‘Oh, please, call me Louella,’ she said. ‘After all, I call you Andrew and you do not take offence at the familiarity, I trust?’

‘Not at all, no, of course not, Miss, er, Louella.’

I shrugged off my rucksack and sat down next to the girl on the huge pile of hay that performed sterling service as a couch. We were both somewhat weary from our walk and we refreshed ourselves with a drink of bottled water that I had placed in my rucksack. The shower had now ceased and the barn was warm so I removed my jacket and sat in shirtsleeves and trousers. We sat together then in silence and I could not but admire the heavenly creature next to me. Her dark hair was drawn back in a bun and, as she loosened it, I noticed that her skin appeared faintly olive-tinted but otherwise of such clarity that it seemed illumined from within. She was wearing a blue jacket which, being fashioned tightly to her torso and waist, allowed me to see the perfect development of her breasts, while her lower limbs were clad in a long, pleated skirt. Her features were finely shaped and her full rich mouth beckoned mine. Our mouths joined and in a trice we were kissing and cuddling with the greatest passion.

She pulled away from me suddenly and said: ‘Andrew, I know it is your birthday next week. I have a present. Would you like it now?’

Puzzled, I replied: ‘Yes, Louella, I would, but where is it?

She undid her jacket and threw it to the ground, then putting her hands underneath her dress, she pulled down her drawers. ‘Help me off with my skirt and petticoats!’ she breathed, and I needed no second bidding as my cock now reared up hard against my trousers as the skirt dropped to the ground, swiftly followed by the rest of her clothes, until she stood completely naked in front of me. I could at first only stare with wonder and then with unabashed lust at her small but exquisitely formed uptilted breasts and smooth white skinned belly, below which twinkled a dark, rounded mass of curly black hair.

Without further words, we sank back into the hay, entwined in each other’s arms, exchanging the most ardent of kisses as the clever girl began to unbutton my trousers, releasing my straining cock which sprang up like a flagpole between my thighs. She lay me down on my back and then bent forward, rubbing my rigid member against her breasts, squeezing along its length, moving to straddle across me so that her pert young bum cheeks were but inches from my face as she lowered her head, parting her full lips to take my cock into her deliciously wet mouth, sucking slowly, deeply, softly. She manoeuvred until her lips completely covered my engorged member, sucking lustily as she slurped down to the very base. The cheeks of her bare bum so close to my face fired me to even new heights of passion. The moist lips of her quim parted to my groping fingers and her bottom cheeks began a merry dance. Without delay I forced my head upwards and slipped my tongue between those pouting cunt lips which caused the lovely girl to moan with delight as she sucked steadily on my pulsating prick. She wriggled her hips anew and the curled point of my tongue found the wrinkled little bum hole into which I inserted it a trifle, as a fond murmur of pleasure escaped from the owner of the altar of love to which I was attending. My hands moved over her body in tantalising strokes and her clitty throbbed against my fingers as they slipped in and out of her pussy with ease, coated in the love juice which trickled from her in a stream.

I knew that I could not keep this position without exploding and I gently eased her off me until she lay on her back. I eased her legs apart and knelt down between them. She pulled down my head to her sweet cunny and my tongue searched out her fine stiff little clitty which projected quite an inch and a half from the pouting lips of her vagina. I sucked it in ecstasy and titillated her sensitive parts so well that she spent profusely in a moment or two, holding my head with her hands to make me go on. It was perhaps the most exciting gamahuche ever as my tongue revelled in her creamy emission till she begged me to stop and instead insert my now bursting prick.

I grasped her thrilling young body and guided my rampant cock into the soft, clinging pussy and she grasped my bottom cheeks to pull me inside her. Soon we were locked in hard, sweeping strokes as my long stiff prick slid in and out of her sopping cunt. I sank myself into her warmth, glorying in the smooth unfaltering motion of her hips, in the strong confident lifting of her body as she joined me in a wild bout of passion. I felt myself swell further within her as she kept driving up against the power of my punching hips, bouncing back from each drive, over and over again as she met every onslaught with complete delight. She bucked beneath me as I felt the juices boil up inside my throbbing tool and with one mighty wham! I plunged yet again into her juicy pit and the darling Louella arched her back to receive the thick squirts of frothy white cum that spurted out of my pulsating prick.

My climax rocketed through me with such force that I was totally unable to fight against the current as the hot gobs of jism continued to pour from my cock. I could only whimper as the spunk dribbled down from the tip of my glistening knob which I slowly withdrew from its enclosing sheath. ‘I regret that I came too quickly for you!’ I panted.

‘Oh no, you dear boy, I have spent copiously too, but I am sure that we can repeat the game, can we not?’ She smiled back at me, sweetly, with a slight nod of her head. ‘This is really marvellous. I want you to fuck me again and never stop!’

‘I’m sure they never taught you such words at school,’ I said. I am most surprised.’

‘Oh, every girl knows the word. Now come on, Andrew, fuck me hard! Fuck me in the mouth and fuck my cunt!’ And in a moment our lips were glued, our tongues caressing. The hairs on my chest had brushed her nipples to erection and my fingers found their way to tickle her bumcheeks. She pushed me down onto my back and tongueteased my prick erect. The sight of her pretty face, her mouth bulging with my rock-hard cock, prepared me soon enough. But before I could move, it was Louella who swung a leg over her mount and lowered herself upon the phallic saddle.

‘Now, Andrew, now!’ she cried. ‘Oh, my dear love, fill me!’

Smoothing out every little wrinkle inside her cunt, it seemed to me, my prick drove upwards to her soft depths as she rode gracefully and easily, leaving me little employment. My hands roved around her slender shoulder blades and found the light contours of her spine. Following these down, I came to the cleavage of her bottom and fiddled between her cheeks to excite her doubly. She drew my hands from there, in protest, as I thought. But it was only in order that she might lead my right hand in a light smacking rhythm upon her rump. My frisky filly wanted the double pleasure of riding whilst at the same time feeling that there was a jockey upon her to spur her on! Gently and rhythmically I spanked her backside as she rode. The effect was such that I could feel warm, pearly droplets of love juice bedewing my prick as it drove into the very depths of her pussy.

Suddenly she released a muffled scream of ecstasy into my mouth and the crisis was precipitated for us both. From the swollen knob of my cock great gusts of jism jetted into her dripping cunt. Indeed, it must have felt as powerful to her as to me-a rare event if we are to believe Doctor Featherstonehaugh-for Louella had her second orgasm within seconds of the sensation of my sperm squirting into her.

We lay there quite exhausted at last though my cock still threaded her and gently we turned on our sides, remaining entwined. Presently we drew apart and hastily dressed as we had no wish to be compromised by discovery. Louella whispered to me that the house just half a mile along the road was empty but that she possessed the keys and that we could continue our pleasures there. I eagerly assented, remembering that the cottage belonged to a Mr Greenhalgh, a writer, who spent a considerable amount of time in France.

Indeed, the little cottage was quite empty when we arrived at the front door. Flowering myrtle crept up the sides and wild roses perfumed the air about it. The flowers smelled of love and excitement, an incredibly sweet and moving odour.

Louella bent down and extracted the key from under the doormat. ‘That is a most unsuitable place to leave a key,’ I exclaimed. ‘Any robber would look for it there after ascertaining that the cottage lay empty.’

‘Ah, yes,’ replied Louella. ‘But in fact Mr Greenhalgh gave the key to me and I left it under the mat only earlier this morning.’

Oh, sweet girl, la bella donna delta mia mente! We kissed with burning passion as we entered the hall. I looked around as Louella led me into the drawing room. As Mr Greenhalgh used the cottage infrequently, he furnished the rooms quite sparsely. The furniture, all very old, consisted only of a large sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, chairs along the walls and two or three cheap prints in yellow frames, representing girls with birds in their hands-that was all.

But the room sufficed for our needs. The sun was now shining fiercely and its rays burned through the wide windows heating the room so that we stayed warm, even as we tore off our clothes to stand before each other absolutely naked. My truncheon was already standing to attention as stiff as any guardsman, its bulbous dome bursting through the foreskin to pulsate, exposed, as the lovely girl gently clasped the shaft of my hot prick as I took her in my arms. I swept her off her feet and, with her lips still glued to mine and now fiercely rubbing my cock up and down, she put her other arm round my neck as I carried her over to the waiting sofa. I laid her down on her back and, still refusing to relinquish her hold on my throbbing rod, she continued to tongue my mouth so vehemently that I felt the boiling juices already collecting in my balls.

Somehow she sensed that my climax was nearing and she quickly withdrew from my mouth and pulled me on top of her. She motioned me to put my prick near her lush red lips and she eagerly sucked upon the red knob, noisily and uninhibitedly lashing her naughty tongue all around my rampant pole, slowly but surely encompassing inch after inch until I could hold back no longer and I began to fuck her mouth in long, slow strokes until at the downstroke, every piece of that delicious morsel was in her mouth and throat and my balls banged against her juicy lips. Such delight could not continue indefinitely and soon, all too soon, I felt the gush of sperm that was not to be denied and I spunked gob after gob of thick white foam into her throat. Louella greedily slurped every drop of love-juice from me, licking every blob from the tip of my knob until my fine prick lay limp on my thigh.

The sofa was wide enough for us to lie closely beside each other, so I rolled off her and we lay motionless in each other’s arms.

‘Did you enjoy that sucking-off?’ enquired the delightful Louella.

‘Oh, my darling, the joy was almost more than I could bear,’ I replied truthfully.

‘I am so glad. My dear friend Sophia taught me how to suck a stiff prick but I feared that she was more expert than I.

‘Sophia? Do you mean Sophia Lyttelton, your cousin, who came with you to Nottsgrove last April when we invited local ladies and gentlemen to see our school amateur dramatics?’

‘Yes, that is the girl, Andrew. Do you remember her? She is prettier than me, is she not?’

I looked at my new love with indignation. ‘Certainly not,’ I said heatedly. ‘She is by no means as lovely a creature as you.’ This was certainly the truth although I did recall Sophia as being a most uncommon beauty. She was a tall, slim girl, not yet sixteen with wavy golden brown hair, a high complexion and intensely blue eyes, a pretty little nose and a fine bow mouth. So that little minx had instructed my Louella in the art of sucking a penis! I was quite flabbergasted, and told Louella of my surprise.

‘It may shock you, dear Andrew, but Sophia has been sucking for almost a year now. In fact her first amour was with my brother Harry.’

‘With Harry? He is only a year older than you is he not, my precious? This is indeed a surprising conversation for me.’

‘Well, that may be so but Harry is quite a handsome boy and, despite your denial that Sophia is prettier than me, I know how attractive she is to men. Since Harry’s cock has been able to stand, I have noticed that his breeches bulge whenever he is near my cousin!’

‘Good heavens! Are you sure that they have actually-‘

‘Most certainly. Why, I saw them together only last month. You remember one Sunday the temperature rose to what must have been record heights. My parents were out for a walk and the three of us were left alone. Shall I continue, Andrew, as I have no desire to bore you with an uninteresting story?’

‘No, no, go on, go on.’

‘As I said, then, we were alone and the sun was beating down with all its might. Sophia suggested we take a short walk down to the river where it would be cooler. Our way to the river bank was by a path through a plantation of tapering firs which had been planted some years earlier and which sheltered the path in winter from the elements. By reason of the density of the interwoven foliage, it was a mite gloomy there, even during a hot, cloudless afternoon. To describe the place fully it would be best to call it a vast, low, naturally formed hall, the plumy ceiling of which was supported by slender pillars of living wood, the floor being covered by a soft, dun carpet of needles, mildewed cones and tufts of grass.

‘We all stripped off our clothes as Sophia and Harry wanted to bathe in the river and she had brought some towels with her. Nothing loath, I laid my clothes neatly in a pile but when I looked up I could see Harry and Sophia were already walking hand in hand towards the river bank and his cock was already in a state of some excitement.

‘I pretended not to notice and stepped off the river bank into the cool water, which was more invigorating. But to my amazement, Sophia and Harry had set down a towel on the bank and were sitting on it, embracing passionately. Harry was squeezing her titties in between running his hands licentiously all over her naked body, whilst she had hold of his rampant cock which stood staunchly up with its bulbous dome unhooded as she rubbed his shaft to iron-hard stiffness. Then, shaking a fringe of hair clear from her eyes, she bent down and took the stiffened tool in her mouth. I could see that she sucked slowly, with every refinement of tongue, tickling and working round the little “eye” on the dome. Then, afraid that Harry would spend too soon, she left off her lubrication with a butterfly kiss and turned over on her belly, pushing out her firm young rump towards Harry’s glowing face.

‘By now ‘I, too, was excited and my hand went down between my legs and I began to rub my own pussy which was already deliciously damp as I was standing in water up to my belly button. My excitement increased when Harry wet the head of his prick with spittle and, as he drove it down between Sophia’s bottom cheeks, I heard her gasp with fright. She knew, however, that she should not tense herself against the knob and she relaxed her cheeks as Harry drove forward again, this time reaching her puckered little bumhole, and he grunted with delight as he pushed in at least two or three inches of his prick, which fortunately was not too thick.

‘Sophia obviously possessed an exquisitely tight reardimple and his cock rode in and out of the tight sheath of her bottom as at the same time he twiddled her nipples and kissed the back of her neck. Delightedly I watched his lusty young tool plunge in and out of the now widened rim of her bumhole, pumping and sucking like the thrust of an engine. She reached back and spread her cheeks even further as the pace quickened and the movements of her rump became more hurried until Harry shot his jets of spunk deep inside her bottom.

‘All the while my fingers were working in and out of my pussy as my thighs squeezed together, but though some love juice dribbled out, it was not nearly as satisfying as a good honest fuck and Sophia had obviously reached the peaks of delight. They now lay silent except for their long-drawn breaths as the call of birds and the smell of mown grass came from the sunlit world around us.

‘Then Harry sat up and, with a frown, told us that he had just remembered that he was already late for an appointment with Mr Atkins, the farm manager. The matter of business would detain him only a half-hour at most but he had to make his excuses. We said we would wait for him to return and he dressed quickly and ran as fast as he could after his exertions towards the farmhouse. Meanwhile, I decided to return to the bank and I picked up a fresh towel and dried myself as Sophia lay back, exposing her firm young body to the sun.’

Listening to this sensual tale had made my cock rock-hard and the telling had stimulated Louella who responded eagerly to my advances. She wriggled herself on her belly and twitched her rounded bottom cheeks provocatively at me. I immediately positioned myself for the charge and Louella took hold of my swollen prick and lasciviously placed it at the entrance to her puckered rosette. I pushed hard and she cried out in surprise more than discomfort. ‘Go on, go on, Andrew. I want a nice thick pressing of juice up my bum.’

So I went to work with a will and her bottom responded gaily to every shove as I drove home, my balls bouncing against her smooth rounded bottom. I worked my sturdy prick in as far as it would go and it tingled deliciously in her velvety depths as her nether cheeks were drawn irresistably tight against my flat belly. I had corked her to the very limit. She squeezed to eject me from the constrictions of her bottom-hole but only served to heighten my pleasure. I moved in and out in a slow shunting movement as I snaked my right hand round her waist and, diving into her curly motte, I massaged her little erect clitty, with much luscious kissing as she turned her dear head towards me. I could feel her love juices flowing as she worked her bum to bring me off in a flood of gushing come which both warmed and lubricated her superb backside. As I spurted into her I continued to work my prick back and forth so that it remained stiffly hard and, with a ‘pop’, I uncorked it from her well lubricated arsehole. We lay exhausted, recovering our senses as the warm sunshine bathed the room in a rosy glow. My, my, the tenderness of those hours will ever remain with me, tamen urit amor; quis enim adsit amori. (Love consumes me yet, for what bound may be set to love?-Virgil.)

By now we were hungry and we eagerly devoured the sandwiches and consumed the lemonade I had luckily packed in my rucksack. I asked Louella if she could come to the school that evening as I had no preparation before me and I wanted to fuck Louella again as soon as possible. We agreed to meet that evening at the entrance to the school and, after a fond farewell kiss, I dressed and began my walk back to Nottsgrove. At first I walked brightly with a gay demeanour, but the nearer I got to the school, the more my conscience pricked me-for how would Lucy take to the idea of my introducing a fresh girl into our sport? I knew that Lucy preferred me to fuck her above all others and she would be hurt if I showed that my heart was bound up with another. This was a delicate problem which would have to be solved and I wondered how I could do so without hurting anyone’s feelings. Never do tomorrow that which can be done well this day-this was a maxim that Doctor White was fond of repeating to us. There was much to be said for grasping this nettle at the first opportunity and I resolved to do so. Perhaps a mutual friend could come to my assistance, I mused, and by the time I reached the gates of my dear old alma mater, a plan of action had formed in my brain.

Continued

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Notes;

1. During my visit to London for studies where we had an Old Ancestral Home, I stumbled on a family treasure. Apart from other things I also found a hump of books, diaries, and notes in the treasure which contained classic, Age-old, Erotic books, Novels, and Magazines probably collected by my Ancestors. They are all timeless and precious. They are a must-read for all erotica lovers.

2. The Original Authors of most of these Stories/Letters or Articles are long dead or Anonymous.

3. The "Other" Classic Victorian Magazine of Erotica. No one wrote erotica better than the Victorians. Classic celebrations of the senses like Fanny Hill, My Secret Life, and Venus in Furs just flowed from their pens. The most celebrated erotic journal of the Victorian era was the justly famous, The Pearl, whose once banned pages introduced many an erotic masterpiece to the world. The Pearl's fame is rivaled only by that of its successor. For, according to the apparently authoritative and comprehensive Introduction by Antoinette Hillman-Straus, when The Pearl went out of business, a new publication rose to fill the gap, The Oyster. Displaying a totally uninhibited and delightfully erotic style, the Oyster was written anonymously and privately distributed. The Oyster was largely forgotten until an obscure edition was rediscovered in the 1980s, in the wake of the success of revived editions of The Pearl. Like its predecessor, the revive Oyster went on to become a bestseller in our time, a classic work whose style and de***********ions are so frank they still have the power to shock and compel 21st-century readers.

4. Out of the aforesaid collection, presenting 'The Oyster: The Scandalous Victorian Magazine of Erotica Volume 1.'

5. The Oyster was an erotic magazine published in London in 1883 by William Lazenby, a continuation of The Pearl Unlike its predecessor the emphasis was mainly on heterosexual pornography
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