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Chapter, The Third – My first days in Birmingham


The coach ride to Birmingham was long and harsh but also very eventful. The coachman had proven to be a man of many women, having one at every station along the way who would share her bed with him. I chanced to fall into his good graces by virtue of helping him to his bed one night after he, having been turned out by one of his lovers, had imbibed a great deal of ale. Afterward, he regaled me with tales of these woman, and even arranged for me to meet one young Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s husband had gone off to sea, and the poor girl was desperately in need of a man’s attentions. I furnished such to both her pleasure and to mine, not once, but thrice in one night. It was with some reservations I boarded the coach the next morning, for Elizabeth was both willing and extremely satisfying. Had my appointment not been waiting, I should have enjoyed spending many more nights with her.

I set foot in Birmingham on the eve of September the tenth, and found Master Johnson waiting for me at the station. After reading my letter of introduction, Master Johnson told me of his sadness at Master Goodsell’s passing, and his excitement of my joining his shop. It seemed that while his skills at the usual sort of work were of a master’s quality, that employment was not his major interest. His true love was the carving of intricate and beautiful decorations. I would manufacture the pieces that would become the base for his chisel work, and in return, he would teach me the methods of the decorative craft.

Birmingham was growing by leaps and bounds, and this growth furnished us with sufficient work that I was in the shop early and left only when daylight failed. Master Johnson’s major business was in tables and chairs and other furnishings of offices along with a small amount of common carpentry. As other businesses flourished, they required many of the former. Most furnishings were of common construction, and were completed by myself, but the few ordered by the business owners for their own offices tended toward the more lavish, being adorned with intricate jointwork and Master Johnson’s wonderful carvings. As Master Johnson was a man in some standing in Birmingham, he trusted no other than himself to construct the pieces destined to adorn the offices of his business acquaintences.

If Master Johnson trusted no one else to satisfy his special customers, he was less dilligent about satisfying his wife. She, having employed a housekeeper to relieve her of most of her daily chores, often came into the shop to observe our work. It was a great pleasure having her there, for Missus Johnson was a very beautiful woman, and although Master Johnson was not of the upper class, she dressed in garments nearly so fine as if he were.

One day, during a temporary absence by Master Johnson, Anne, as I learned she preferred to be addressed, came into the shop while I was chiseling a dovetail.

“You have good hands, Richard. You thrust your chisel with skill, and it follows a straight course deep into the wood.”

“Tis merely the hours of practice, Missus Johnson.”

“Surely we need not be so formal. Please call me Anne, and though practice perfects the ability, as with most things, the talent must still dwell within. I am told your talents are many.”

“Miss – Anne, surely I have not been in your husband’s employ for a sufficient time he could determine as much. I appreciate your statement, but pray, from where did your information come?”

She grinned.

“I believe you know a woman in Leichester by the name of Molly?”

My body experienced a chill, as if a cold winter blast had just blown up my shirt.

“Yes, I believe we have met. She was housekeeper to Master Goodsel, if my memory is correct.”

Anne smiled again.

“It is a very gentlemanly thing to protect a lady’s honor, but you should know that Molly is my cousin. It was through her Master Goodsel learned of the vacancy in my husband’s shop. We have no secrets from each other, if you understand my meaning.”

I did understand, and feared I might be dismissed as soon as Master Johnson returned from his business. Anne seemed to realize my fears, and laughed.

“Just before Master Goodsel’s passing, Molly sent a message to me. She spoke highly to me of your talents, and knowing Molly as I do, I know she would not speak so of one who did not satisfy her. Do not fear, young Richard. I have no reason to break her confidence to my husband.”

Anne laughed.

“Bless her soul, the woman is as randy as a goat most of the time, so you must have been very good indeed.”

I did not know what to say, so I stood there, mute as the chisel in my hand.

Ann smiled coyly.

“Did you not know women speak of such things?”

“I have never given it much thought, Ma’am.”

Anne laughed.

“You men! You take we women for frazzle-headed ninny’s, when we are every bit as able as you. You should think before you poke, Richard. Someday, your past pleasures shall catch up with you.”

“It would appear they already have done so.”

“Yes, so it would seem, but there is a way to lock them away again.”

“And what would that be, Anne.”

“There are certain services I require, services my husband cannot provide. If you were to consent to my aid, I could forget my message from Molley.”

I was no longer so foolish as to believe Anne was speaking of so simple a thing as moving her furniture about for her. The idea of having her with me, naked and panting as had been my fortune with Molly was intriguing, but I thought not without a great risk.

“Anne, Master Johnson, he would surely be greatly upset were he to know of my…my services.”

Anne chuckled, and then burst out laughing.

“You do not know, do you? Have you not noticed any unusual traits in my husband?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid.”

“Well, how shall I procede then… Unlike most men, Samuel is a great artist in the carving of wood. This you already know. You do not know that he is not the same as other men in another respect. His eyes do not see women as you do, Richard.”

“Anne, I think there is but one way a woman appears to a man, any man.”

She smiled.

“No. You see, Samuel sees women as friends, sees them as customers, and sees them as relations. He does not see them as…as lovers.”

“I would suppose his dedication to his work is responsible.”

“Do you know the reason for his absence today?”

“Of course. He is off speaking with a customer.”

“I assure you he is not with a customer, and he is not speaking. He is with another man…his lover.”

Well, I had heard of such men, but to my knowledge, never had I met one. That Master Johnson was so was somewhat of a shock. That Anne, his wife, knew of his lover was quite another.

“Anne, you know this and do not object?”

She laughed.

“Molly said you were a bit backward in the ways of men and women. Richard, I do not begrudge Samuel his lovers, just as he does not begrudge me mine. We agreed to this arrangement long ago, when we first met. You see, as often as not, I prefer the soft touch of a lady’s hand. We both benefit from the appearance of our marriage, and enjoy our own lovers as we wish.”

“Oh”, was all I could think of to say. My mind was too occupied in envisioning Anne with her beautiful face and slender body in the arms of a woman of like appearance.

Anne laughed again.

“I see I have caused you pause to think of two women together. Perhaps, one day, if you fill my needs as I ask, you will see. I have a friend who has expressed a desire for just such a liason.”

The temptation of Anne’s proposition was winning the battle with my reservations. I smiled.

“And what would these needs be, Anne?”

Anne crossed the space between us and casually let her finger trace down my chest.

“The desire for a man runs high in the women of my family. While I am not so forward as Molly, my needs are every bit so intense, and though I love the touch of a woman, I crave being filled by a man just as much. Alas, the wife of a man of such standing as Samuel may not indulge with just any man or woman she may fancy. ‘Twould harm his reputation and be the ruin of his business.

“I now find myself with a handsome, strong young man living right in my own home. Surely you can imagine my temptation…” She slipped her hand inside the waist of my breeches. “when my cousin has related how thick and pleasing that man’s cock is. Ahhh…Molly did not exaggerate. ‘Tis indeed as fine as she said.”

I jumped when her hand closed around my shaft, and Anne giggled.

“’Tis sensitive, is this fine cock. Would you not enjoy feeling it sheathed in my cunny?”

“It would be most pleasurable to share your bed, Anne.”

“Ah, but you see, there is the difference between myself and Molly. While Molly is a demure soul with a love for privacy, I am a bit more adventuresome. I would prefer you take me in, shall we say…unusual places…places where we might be seen or heard…places such as here…on the workbench…at this very instant.”

Anne withdrew her hand from my breeches, turned and leaned forward upon the workbench amongst the wood shavings. She pulled up her skirts to reveal her bare sex. As Molly would have said, Anne’s stream was flowing, and her parted lips could not contain the flow. The long dark strands of the hair that guarded her soft lips were wet and shining, and her inner thighs glistened with her juices.

I paused, again torn between the raging in my loins and the fear of discovery.

“Richard, it is not polite to keep a lady waiting. As you must surely see, I am in great need of your tool.”

My reservations evaporated when Ann reached behind her, grasped her soft cheeks and pulled them apart. Her lips opened with a wet little smacking sound, and she moaned.

“Now, Richard, I need your beautiful cock inside me.”

It took me only a moment to move behind Anne, and only another to loose the ties on my breeches and slide them down. My cock was as stiff as a carriage wheel spoke and Anne wiggled when I sought the portal.

“No…up more…there…yes…oh, yes…give it to me Richard, cleave my body just as your chisel does the wood.”

I assumed Anne meant to thrust hard and quickly, for that was my way of guiding the chisel. With a deep breath, I thrust my cock through her silken portal and into the passage, not stopping until my belly slapped her full hips. Anne cried out so that I feared I had injured her.

“Anne, I must apologize…I thought –“

Anne giggled.

“Mmmmmmmm. Richard, you thought correctly. I fear I can become somewhat loud when I am cleaved by so large a cock as yours. I shall try to restrain myself…this time.”

Anne wiggled her bottom again, and then pushed back at me. My cock slipped another fraction into her and she moaned.

“Oh, yes, deep as you are now, Richard…quickly and to the bottom of my depths.”

It was somewhat confusing to me that Anne seemed not to require the caresses I was accustomed to giving in order to become so aroused, but she was as aroused as Molly had ever been. I began stroking my shaft in and out of her, holding on to her full hips to steady myself. It was quickly apparent that Anne preferred arriving at her conclusion at full tilt, so to speak. Her hips rocked up an down as I stroked, urging me to go ever faster.

I must admit, the sensations were fascinating. Looking down, I watched as Anne’s hips thrust back as I stroked, her cunny lips seeming to roll up inside her along with my cock. When I pulled back out, she moved away as best she could, stopping only when the head of my manhood reached the tighness just inside her passage, and her long wide lips dragged along my length.

In moments, Anne had me pounding away at her as if my manhood was the smith’s water hammer. I remember thinking ‘twas only the amount of her juice that saved my shaft and her lips from being rubbed raw. So great was the speed and depth of my thrusts, it was mere minutes before I felt the familiar tightening in my loins.

Not wishing to leave Anne wanting, I began to silently recite my multiplication tables in time with my strokes. One times One is One, One times Two is Two, One times Three is Three…

My concern was quickly proven to be unfounded. I had reached only the middle of the two’s when Anne gasped.

“O-h-h-h-h-h-h-h…y-e-s-s-s-s-s…now…now, Richard…fill my cunny now.”

The multiplication table vanished from my mind, to be replaced by the sensations of Anne’s passage as she reached her end. Her hips rocked up and down so quickly I could not hope to match the pace, and an instant later, her portal clamped my shaft so tightly there could be but one outcome. My groan came at the same time as the first spurt of seed raced from my loins and out through the tip of my plunging cock. Anne cried out as the tremors shook her body, and I groaned again and again as my body pumped her clasping passage full.

When Anne ceased to gasp with every breath, she chuckled and wiggled her bottom, sending waves of sensation through my still rigid shaft. I jumped and slipped out of her.

“Richard, put that back”, she giggled. “I’ve not yet finished with that wonderful tool of yours.”

I slipped my shaft back into her dripping entrance. Anne moaned again.

“M–m-m-m-m-m-m. I think I shall need your tool to stay there for a while. It fills me so well.”

“Anne, I fear my tool shall become rather limp shortly.”

“No matter”, she chuckled, “I am certain I have the means to stiffen it again.”

As I had predicted, in a few minutes I slipped from her wet sheath. Anne immediately raised herself, turned to face me and then bade me lie on the workbench on my back. I assumed she would attempt a ride such as Molly always enjoyed, though the state of my manhood would make such a thing impossible.

It was no ride Anne had in mind. She smiled as I lay down and then grasped my limp manhood with her fingertips. Closing her hand around my shaft, she began to stroke it up and down. The feeling was very nice indeed, and would have brought me to the required stiffness quickly, but Anne was sailing upon another course entirely.

Her eyes gleamed as she opened her small mouth and lowered it to the head of my shaft. Her small tongue flicked out, licked the opening in the tip and then swirled completely around it. The small lurch my hips made was of their own doing, and it seemed to please Anne.

“Ah…just as I thought. I believe this tool shall become stiff again without too much effort.”

So saying, Anne closed her lips around my manhood, and commenced a flurry of sucking and licking the like of which I had never before experienced. The quick hardening of my manhood surprised me. Though my own attempts always succeeded in bringing about a second end to my needs, that end required much in the way of both mental and manual effort. It seemed as if Anne accomplished this in only moments, though I am certain the novelty of her treatment foreshortened the time required somewhat.

When Anne was satisfied with my state of hardness, she retrieved a small stool from the corner, and using it, mounted the workbench. Lifting her skirts, she lowered herself down over my stiff shaft, and finding the portal with my tip, she sank slowly over my length.

Anne shuddered as her cunny lips met the hairs around my shaft, then moaned as she allowed her weight to settle on me.

“O-h-h-h-h-h, such a feeling I shall never wish to give up.”

With that, she began to ride me much as had Molly. Having before experienced this, I understood my part in the play, and commenced the same.

Anne rode my shaft slowly, I supposed because the intensity of her need had been partly diminished by our earlier joining. The speed was more than sufficient for my pleasure, for though I had spent not so long ago, the sensations of her warm wet passage clasping my manhood were wonderful.

Anne slipped her dress from her soft shoulders, then did the same with her chemise. Her breasts were somewhat smaller than Molly’s, as were her nipples, but those small buds were swollen very tight and very long, so long that when Anne grasped them between her thumbs and forefinger, they were only covered about two-thirds of their length. Ann pulled them out and away from her body, then released them and pulled my hands to her.

“As I just did, Richard” , Anne purred, “and do not be gentle.”



Since first touching Molly’s large nubs, I had been fascinated by nipples, and Anne’s held yet another measure of fascination, though not so great a wonder as her reaction when I pulled on them lightly. At the first slight tug, Anne gasped and slammed her body down on me.

“Harder…much harder.”

I pulled hard enough to cause her breasts to form into soft cones.

“Yes…but harder still.”

My next attempt caused me to fear hurting her. I pulled with sufficient force as to stretch both her nipples and breasts as far as seemed possible. Anne gasped again, and doubled the speed of her riding strokes. Her voice was but a murmur and so soft it was difficult to make out her words.

“Y-e-s-s-s-s-s…now…as if you were milking, Richard.”

I commenced the same actions I had learned long ago in Father’s barn, alternately pulling on Anne’s long nipples and relaxing the force. She began to pant as she rode me. I felt wave after wave of wetness flow down over my shaft. Twice, Anne’s breathing became extremely rapid and continued thus until I felt a gush of fluid shoot out of her and splash against my belly.

As she began this same rapid panting for a third time, Anne leaned forward to support herself and rocked her hips rapidly over my shaft. In moments, her body stiffened, she moaned, then cried out, and her body was convulsed by spasm after spasm. Those spasms rapidly tightened her cunny and caused me to lose control. I arched into her, driving my manhood deep, and shot my seed again and again.

Anne collapsed onto my chest and lay there breathing in gasps. I could feel her heart pounding away beneath her soft breasts. She buried her face in my neck, and kissed me on the shoulder.

“M-m-m-m-m. I shall have to write to Molly and thank her for teaching you so well”, she chuckled. “It has been too long since my well was filled.”

A few minutes later, after my manhood had slipped from Anne’s warm, wet embrace, she rose and left the workshop. I found myself in a sorry state. My manhood was shrunken and dripping with my seed and Anne’s juices, as was the workbench. After rearranging and fastening my breeches, I attempted unsuccessfully to clean the workbench. Though I was able to remove the fluids, a wet stain remained, the scent of which left no doubt as to it’s origin.

It was fortune shining upon me that kept Master Johnson away until the next afternoon. By that time, the stain had dried, and a few strokes of my scraper removed the evidence of our tryst.

Such were the early days of my employment with Master Johnson. I came to the realization that his “business meetings” took place on alternate Friday’s, and usually required his absence until late Sunday evening. On the morning of his next such absence, he advised me of the day and hour of his return, and then asked that I make every attempt to be available for customers until noon on Saturday.

“After the noon meal, you may close the workshop and use the time as you wish. Anne may require you to assist her in some way or other, as I understand you have certain talents she greatly appreciates. My only caution is that you maintain my reputation by keeping your… assistance… cloaked from the eyes of others.”

With that, Master Johnson smiled and bade me a good evening. I learned that night, as I shared Anne’s bed, that she had informed him of our arrangement and that he was pleased.

That arrangement was indeed an enjoyable one for me except for the caution of keeping it a close secret. The difficulty was not of my doing, but of Anne’s. She seemed to delight in being taken in places where a passerby might observe our actions, and it was not without some fear that I agreed to many of the locations.

The workshop was always our place for Saturday afternoon. I was already there after our noon meal, cleaning up, and Anne would join me. Fortunately, the workshop windows faced the rear of the shop, so there was little danger of an observer there. Often when she came into the shop, she wore only her chemise and discarded that as soon as I put down my broom.

She was a delight to my senses when naked, her breasts sitting high on her chest and the forest of hair between her soft thighs beckoning me. In moments, my manhood would be striaining the lacing of my breeches, a condition Anne would soon remedy. Then would follow her efforts to swell me even more with her lips and tongue. Sometimes, the workbench became our support, other times she would put her arms around my neck, leap up and wrap her legs around my waist, and wait for me to spear her soft lips with my stiff member.

Nights were always in her bed. Anne would keep licking and sucking me hard until she could bear the spasms of her release no longer. Mornings always meant she would pull me between her wide-spread thighs and use her hand to guide my key to her lock. After finding our release, we would rise and breakfast. I am certain the poor housekeeper was in a continual fit of arousal on those weekends, for often we would hear her in her chamber, moaning as we neared our pinnacle.

Sunday was Anne’s day for excitement, which meant Sunday was my day for fear of discovery. The woodshed served us well until Anne mentioned a tryst in the garden would be very enjoyable for her. The garden did have a high fence, but anyone passing by would be certain to hear her cries as her pleasure peaked. I solved this difficulty with the aid of a small pillow applied firmly to her face at the right moment. The pillow served it’s purpose just as well during the visits we made to a thick grove of trees by the river near the town.

I thought it fortunate when the chill of late fall arrived. Even though driven to seek exciting places to impale herself with my manhood, the cold air kept us indoors and lessened my worry. On one such Sunday, after Anne had drained me of my seed for the second time, she remarked that she would be away the Sunday hence.

“I have a business meeting of my own”, she giggled. “Corrine has returned from the coast.”

“Corrine?”

“Oh, silly me. Corrine is known by most as Mistress Trent. She is, shall we say, a friend, one of the friends of which I spoke…a friend with a soft touch?”

“Ahh, I see. You and she shall meet to…to talk of women’s things.”

Anne chuckled.

“Yes…and about you.”

“About me? I thought…you said…”

“And I also said, she is interested in a man to observe and perhaps to join in our…as you say…discussion. Shall I tell her you have some interest in participating?”

The visions of that first day with Anne returned, but were heightened now by the knowledge of Anne’s body.

“I believe you would be correct is saying such”, I laughed. “If your Corrine is anything like you, the…discussion should be quite an enjoyable one.”

“Excellent. Should Corrine be in agreement, you shall hear of the arrangements.”

That night, the vision came to me again as I lay on my cot, the vision of breasts and nipples and soft, rounded hips, and curls hiding slender lips. Had Anne not already drained away my desire, I should have been forced to seek relief by myself. I fell to sleep wondering if the date would be soon, for I was eager to undertake this new adventure.

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