Knob tests Sex Toy
By our aristocrat between the sheets,
Sir Percival Mountjoy
An upstanding peer of the realm gets to grips with an impressive new sex toy for gentlemen and discovers that one size does not fit all
I was just about to take afternoon tea when my package arrived. It was a depressingly grey London day worsened by cook burning the muffins (again), but my mood was instantly lightened by the arrival of my new acquisition. The delivery driver, a rather surly, ill bred oik, required me to sign his grubby note with a decidedly unsanitary and well masticated writing instrument. Politely declining, I made the obnoxious bugger wait for ten minutes while I repaired to the library to retrieve my onyx and gold fountain pen and graced the chit with my moniker. Then, dismissing the poltroon's complaints that my signature had not impressed itself sufficiently upon the 'office copy', I slammed the door in his lugubrious face.
I quickly ascended the grand staircase with my anonymous parcel tucked securely under my arm and made my way along the Gainsborough Gallery to the sanctity of my bedroom. No sooner had I secured the door behind me and made a few judicious cuts with my regimental sabre, than my package lay open before me, and I was able to give my full attention to 'Lucy Lastyk's Vibrating Ass & Pussy'. Clearly the manufacturers did not believe in beating about the bush! Peering expectantly through the tasteful rose-tinted cellophane 'window', I feasted my eyes upon the young lady's impressive nether regions. Losing no time in opening the package and removing the product, I was soon confronted with what can best be described as a rubber arse!
Continuing my scrutiny, I observed the presence of two small openings, one situated between the delicate, pink folds of Miss Lucy's appealing temple and the other, um — a little further away. Another larger opening was also clearly visible, positioned over the area of her sacrum, or what is vulgarly known as the 'belly button.' This struck me as rather alarming at first, but I quickly concluded that far from being a unique anatomical feature of Miss Lucy herself, it had been thoughtfully included to facilitate the hygienic cleaning of her internal passageways. My attention was then diverted by the additional items nestling in a little compartment within the box. I laid Miss Lucy's rear on the bed — in a non familiar way, I hasten to add, and picked up what looked like an old fashioned Dictaphone. This comprised of a wire with a rounded cylinder at one end, and a small box with a rocker switch at the other. I struggled for some time to understand the purpose of this device. Perhaps it was intended for recording one's amorous exclamations at the moment of crisis? The possibility also occurred to me that it might broadcast Miss Lucy's sighs of satisfaction as one mounted her. How very bizarre!
More amused than perplexed by this device, I quickly located some suitable dry cells that my good lady wife had conveniently left next to the instrument she uses to massage her arthritic hips, and inserted them into the unit to test its function. Rather tentatively I engaged the switch on its side, only to have the bloody thing jump out of my hand like a demented frog and vanish under the bed. What in blazes? Demeaning myself to crawl on the floor like some despicable serf, I retrieved the now furiously buzzing instrument and switched it off. Then, with a blinding flash of belated inspiration, I realised that this must be the ingenious contraption which imparted the stimulating vibrational motion to Miss Lucy's exquisite bottom which had been mentioned in the advertisement. Regaining my previous position, further examination of the small compartment in the box revealed a bottle labelled 'Sensuous Orgy Butter' and a small dispenser of talcum powder. This, I now discovered (on belatedly reading the included instructional monograph), was to 'condition' Miss Lucy's pert derriere after washing.
This seemed an eminently sensible procedure as I engage in the very same cosmetic practices myself after bathing. Deciding that I had now examined everything required of me, I quickly divested myself of my nether garments and, after folding them neatly upon a chair, proceeded to coax my manhood into a suitable state of arousal. Thirty-five minutes later I availed myself of a pharmaceutical livener, and twenty minutes after that I was ready to do battle with the saucy minx. I approached Miss Lucy with no little trepidation and the included lubricant clutched in my trembling hand. Gently, I anointed her beguiling entrance with the slippery unguent and then performed the same act upon my now hugely empurpled member. Leaning forward with eager anticipation, I guided myself towards Miss Lucy's enticingly moistened love tunnel and braced myself expectantly for the rapture that was certain to follow.
Five minutes later, I was perspiring freely and not a little sore from my strenuous exertions. Sadly, this was not due to the vigour of my lovemaking, but the unfortunate result of my exceedingly determined but dismally fruitless attempts to insert my now very bent looking member into the aforementioned parts. My good lady wife has often remarked that I am a man who can fill the loosest of trousers, an opinion shared by the upstairs maid, who has lately refused my attentions on the grounds that I might 'do her a mischief', as she puts it. But it quickly became apparent that this young lady was designed to accommodate an altogether more modest appendage! Perhaps one from an individual who was endowed with something resembling a small chippolata! The advertisement had led me to believe that Miss Lucy was an 'experienced' lady of high repute, but I now began to seriously question the exaggerated claims of the manufacturers given the quite absurdly petite entrance to her hallowed sanctuary.
Weary, but undaunted, I resolved to tackle my feminine protagonist from an alternative angle. Quickly restoring my manhood to its earlier impressive condition, I introduced it into the previously mentioned sacral opening and found it most suitable for the purposes I desired. But the rapturous sensations which were soon thrilling through my trembling thighs were all too short-lived. Imagine my horror, if you will, when the magnificent head of my mighty organ emerged from the young lady's arse! The horrific spectacle brought me to the very precipice of hysteria! What foul and loathsome creature could possibly have contrived such a hellish design? Before all sanity deserted me, I hastily withdrew and poured myself a brandy to help me consider my options. They seemed slim indeed, in more ways than one! Finally, after some moments of intense deliberation, I elected to perform a little minor surgery on Miss Lucy in the hope of improving her receptiveness to my amorous intentions.
Taking my trusty regimental blade in hand, I carefully whittled away at her delicate folds until, finally, Miss Lucy's feminine parts took on the appearance of... well — feminine parts. Rather pleased with my handiwork, I stiffened both my resolve and my manhood with a second brandy and applied myself anew to entering Miss Lucy's voluptuous person. Moments later I slipped deep into her womanly embrace and pressed my hips closely against the firm ripeness of her pert little arse. Again and again I pleasured her with my enormous loveshaft, until, finally, I gave her my all in an exquisitely timed thrust of extreme passion.
Much to my chagrin, my 'all' erupted from Miss Lucy's tummy button with a velocity that astonished me and splattered all over my good lady wife's dressing gown. 'Bugger!' I ejaculated, for it was truly a most vexing occurrence. Fortunately the upstairs maid chose that moment to knock and enquire if I required any refreshment, so I was able to bundle the garment into her arms with the injunction to wash the bally thing before the mistress got back.
As I sit here now, penning this account of my amourous adventure, Miss Lucy resides on the bookcase in my study, modestly clad in a small green thong and rather fetching, skin tight micro-skirt, which was constructed, after considerable persuasion, by the upstairs maid. Since my first, rather explosive encounter with Miss Lucy, there have been many others which I am pleased to record have given me enormous satisfaction without ruining the bedclothes. Furthermore, I will freely admit that on more than one occasion, I have indulged myself in fully exploring her 'other' entrance. The only drawback I have encountered in these — um, more unorthodox excursions, is that my obviously larger than average member exhibits a distressing tendency to expose itself through Miss Lucy's belly button. Still, this is a niggling criticism of what has otherwise been one of the most satisfactory purchases I have ever made. In conclusion I would say that any discerning gentleman who is not enjoying the full expression of his amourous inclinations, could do a lot worse than avail himself of the aesthetic and sensuous firmness of 'Lucy Lastyk's Vibrating Ass & Pussy'.
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