Bawdy Tales of Old London Town.

Introduction.

Here we are. You and I. Together in this special place out of the rain.

The dusty air is thick with the aroma of storytelling as we make our way between row upon row of well-thumbed books that pack each straining shelf to the heavens.

Book upon book stuffed with tales both fact and fiction. At the end of each row is a sign revealing the nature of these tales for the inquisitive to peruse. The theme for this particular row says "Victoriana - Fiction from a golden age."

Wandering between the walls of each literary cavern, a singular title catches the eye and you stop and remove the leather-bound book from amongst its companions. You show me the title and I smile.

Retiring to the reading room, we sit in a quiet corner and you open the book at the first page as we begin to discover those bawdy tales from Old London Town...

***

Foreword:

Down a sun-kissed valley and up over a green hill did one come upon the splendid sight of Old London Town. A landscape of steeples, spires, and belching chimney pots stretching to the far horizon as the populace go about their daily business.

Each living their own stories that would be told over and over as the years and generations pass. But some of those tales can only be spoken about in dark shadows with a nudge and a wink. Bawdy stories. Ribald stories. Lusty stories that quicken the heart, catch the breath and fire the blood. Stories that aren't told in polite company.

Tales that can only be shared in places such as this.

The Author.

Holywell Street.

London.

November 1899.

Privately Printed.

For Mature Readers.

***

1: The Large Phallus in the Room.

"Good God almighty," the woman exclaimed as she stood there in the doorway holding a pile of freshly ironed laundry for her new lodger. Remembering her station, she put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "Forgive my intrusion, Sir."

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was not one to stand on ceremony and always spoke her mind. Twice widowed and once forsaken, the woman had the benefit of wit, wisdom, and life experience. Or so she thought as she stared unabashedly at the dangling member belonging to the young man standing naked in front of her.

Gathering her wits, she knocked on the door she had already innocently opened. "There I go again," she tutted as she stepped into the spare bedroom. "My most sincere apologies for barging in on you, Mr. Johnson. I thought, perhaps, you had gone out for a short walk to familiarize yourself with your new situation and surroundings. The old lady can be quite the eye-opener for those who have not experienced life in the big city."

Albert Johnson finally found his voice as he stood there still dripping water onto the polished wooden floor. "Uh, I, well," he coughed and stammered as he tried to cover his modesty with his hands. A futile gesture for he was well aware that, endowed as he was, a fair portion of his member was still showing. "That is quite alright, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. No harm done. I was merely availing myself of the clean pitcher of water and bowl to clean up. I shall be more astute with the lock next time."

He watched as his landlady went over to the dresser and placed the laundry on top. "Thank you kindly," he replied as he quickly grabbed a clean towel with one hand whilst still trying to hide his largesse with the other. "Your attention to my well being is much appreciated."

Flushed, she glanced at him as he wrapped the towel around his waist. "Supper is at eight," she informed him as she walked to the door. "I usually cook some oats and milk with a touch of honey. They say it is most agreeable for the stomach and aids restful sleep. Now, I shall take my leave so you can unpack your baggage and settle in." With that, she closed the door and went on her way with more than just the daily chores on her mind.

***

It was three days hence and the fading light shone through the lattice window as the landlady and her lodger sat enjoying their late supper together before a simmering log fire. In those three days, they had spent the time getting to know each other. They talked about his family back home in the shires. His new situation as an apprentice teller in the financial heart of the city. His pursuits and Interests as well as life in general and how much he was looking forward to living in the grand old lady.

Albert Johnson was nineteen years. He was tall. Countryside lean. Sporting a thick shaggy brown mop of hair with matching brown eyes and an attentive sensible nature. Through connections, he had managed to arrange suitable lodgings near to his place of employment and an initial payment for his monthly rent had been agreed with the lady of the house, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. All in all, things had turned out most fortunate as he sat there enjoying his late supper listening to his landlady chatting happily away about all things under the sun.

To his surprise, he found Mrs. Hoopenlicker a most entertaining companion. She was charming, bright, and witty with an easy-going manner that put him instantly at ease. Their little adventure on his first day had, apparently, faded into nothing more than an unfortunate memory and had never been mentioned again.

Or so he thought.

The sound of her voice and warmth of his supper helped the trials of the day float gently away as he sat on the couch enjoying her company. He rested his bowl on his lap and slowly closed his eyes feeling much contented as he listened.

Such was his sleepy repose, he didn't notice his landlady get out of her fireside chair and ease down beside him and put a hand on his right knee.

"By chance in Summertime, Mr. Johnson," said the older woman as she glanced up at her lodger who was now very much awake and staring wide-eyed at her. "The idyllic dreams of an unattached lady such as myself are sometimes disturbed in a way that does peculiar things to her sensibilities and there is not a jot she can do about it no matter how hard she tries."

The young man was about to say something but she put a finger to his lips. "That first morning those idyllic dreams were very much disturbed by what this lady witnessed and is now the only thing she can think about," She paused for she understood full well that the next step was the greatest step of all. "If you'd be willing, Mr. Johnson, I should very much like to share this dream with you." To emphasis the point, she slowly drew her finger down the front of his stays.

To young Albert Johnson, it sounded as if his heart was in his skull with his mind all at sea. Rational thought had taken flight and even if he could think straight he doubted he would be able to give voice to it. "Ah, uh, well," he managed as he stared at his landlady as she cuddled closer to him.

All things being equal, Mrs. Hoopenlicker was a fine looking woman. Late forties, he imagined. She was of medium height. Maturely curvaceous. Immaculately presented with long blonde hair that was tied in a fashion down her back. She was wearing a starched white blouse that was buttoned to the neck and tied at the wrists as well as a sensible yellow ankle-length skirt overlaid with flower stitching here and there. A pair of laced leather black boots completed the picture.

"Fret not about my presumptions, Mr. Johnson," she confessed. "But I must speak of the things that are to the forefront of my mind. I ask only that you consider my request in the spirit it is meant," Mrs. Hoopenlicker saw the first flush of desire flicker in his eyes. "And if I may be so bold, perhaps a little persuasion may assist in your decision." she offered as she got to her feet and pulled out a wooden stool from under the table.

Facing away from him, she placed it in front of the fire as she leaned forward thus presenting her lodger with a perfect view of her shapely backside. She paused for a moment before she turned and put her right foot on the stool. Then, as he sat there watching her little erotic dance, she slowly began to draw up her skirt and petticoats to reveal more of her black stockings to his rapt attention. She stopped at the first sign of her garter and bare thigh. "There now, Mr. Johnson. Do you like what you see?" she teased.

"But I hardly know you, Mrs. Hoopenlicker," gasped Albert. "Though I am much flattered by your attention, I think it only right to point out that we have only just met."

His landlady tugged her clothes a little higher so that the needlepoint of her white French knickers was showing. "Isn't that the thrill of it though?" she breathed suggestively. "What path we choose shall only concern the two of us at this moment. I trust such an arrangement shall be completely confidential by its very nature. I have needs, Mr. Johnson, and conversation can only get one so far. Besides," she smiled as she ran both hands down her exposed thigh. "If there had been a whiff of doubt, Sir, you would have said so the moment I laid my hand on your thigh."

Her lodger stared at her. The lady of the house was right. He nodded. "Your words have me at a loss, Mrs. Hoopenlicker," he replied. "Some things are meant to be and I cannot deny I am aroused by the opportunity you are offering me. Let us have our way with each other and hell be damned."

And so began the strange affair between the landlady, Mrs. Hoopenlicker, and her lodger, Mr. Johnson.

***

"What a magnificent appendage, Mr Johnson," gasped Mrs. Hoopenlicker as she admired the young man's sex as it hung down from his groin. Its length was as long as her forearm with the smooth apple-sized head hidden under the foreskin. "I swear it is the most invigorating thing I have ever seen!"

Her lodger was flushed of face as he stood there with his shirt bunched up around his waist whilst his landlady knelt at his feet fawning and cooing over his growing prick. Growing not so much in length but in thickness as the engorged head slowly emerged from its sheath.

"May I touch it?" she asked politely, glancing up at him. Heavens, her heart was pounding so vigorously in her chest she felt quite befuddled as she reached up and extended a finger to stroke his stiffening manhood.

Albert was beyond reason as he stood gently swaying. What a ridiculous question! He very much wanted Mrs. Hoopenlicker to touch his thing and do so much more with it for he was quite unable to resist the temptations she was offering him.

He nodded eagerly. "Please do, Mrs. Hoopenlicker," he gasped. "But with caution for I have little experience in such things and the bell may ring sooner rather than later."

Grasping the monster at its base, she lifted it up so that its great head and one eye stared back at her as it throbbed in her grip. The most noticeable thing to her was how heavy and hot it was. Pushing it further back, she saw his ball sack reaching down to mid-thigh and she could only imagine how full each nut must be with the syrup contained within. Slowly drawing her fist up the shaft, she paused just below the crown and squeezed him gently so that a large drop of dew appeared. Peeking up at Mr. Johnson, she bent her head and deftly licked the pearl away with her tongue. "Never let it be said," she smiled as she got to her feet. "I let a single drop go to waste."

Mrs. Hoopenlicker hefted her skirts and delicately removed her knickers before turning away from him so she could kneel on her couch. Revealing her full bare posterior, she glanced over her shoulder to see Albert fisting his weeping phallus as he gawped at her rear all agog. "Mount me from behind, Mr. Johnson," she urged as the young man stepped between her spread thighs. "I much prefer to be taken this way."

Albert stared at his landlady's round bottom that lay before him as ripe and succulent as a split peach. Her rotundity was perfect. Large, yes, but perfectly proportioned with each white cheek hiding the delights in between. She had tilted her hips so that her mound was easily accessible to his excited prodding. As he watched, Mrs. Hoopenlicker reached down between her thighs and ran a solitary finger along her hairy slot.

Quickly, he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them leaving his heavy bell end swinging lustily in tingling anticipation. Below, he could feel his testes beginning to churn in their mottled sack as he grasped his stiff penis and positioned himself for his initial penetration of her puss puss.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hoopenlicker raised a hand. "Wait, Sir, Wait!" she exclaimed. "The wattle. The sponge. Such is my state, I was remiss in my protection," She pointed to her oak sideboard. "Inside is a small bag. To the left. Please bring it to me, Mr. Johnson."

Albert shuffled across and returned with the bag. His landlady opened it and removed a small wedge of sponge. "Even at my age," she confessed. "It pays to take precautions." She then removed a ball of string and glanced at his member. Calculating how much she needed, she used a pair of scissors to snip the required length and tied one end securely around the sponge. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Before you insert your prick, Mr. Johnson," she instructed. "Can you be so kind as to push this into my hole first so that it can soak up your spend. The head of your thing shall force it as deep as it needs to go."

To assist, she resumed her position and reached behind to spread her bottom as she felt him gingerly press the contraception between the lips of her sex and up into her passage as far as he could manage before withdrawing his finger.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Hoopenlicker?" he asked as he hefted his large purple knob so that copious amounts of juice oozed from the tip. He was consumed with lust and quivered with sexual excitement.

The older woman shivered with anticipation as she looked over her shoulder at the length of meat about to invade her womanhood. To penetrate and touch the very heart of who she was and where her true nature lay waiting.

Her finger still rubbed between the lips of her sex to help oil her waiting vagina for his prick was a monster! Could her poor sweet fanny even take such a thing inside it? Not only was it long, but it was as fat as a butchers dog with an angry head that wept impatiently from its single eye. "As I shall ever be, Sir," she whispered. "Have at it and rest not until my venus has taken every last inch of you!"

***

"AHH!!" Mrs. Hoopenlicker rasped as her penetration by her lodger's immense cock continued. Even though she had taken less than half of him, half of him was so much more than she had taken before. He squeezed another inch inside her and she groaned loudly for she could feel her innards being pushed to one side. "Heavens, Mr. Johnson," she gasped as she gripped the back of her couch. "I swear that thing will rend me asunder. Oh, oh, OH!"

Albert was all a sweat. The mounting of his landlady, though most pleasurable, was surely hard work! Her fanny was wrapped around his prick like a vice and he had to pause while she got used to his probing. He was beginning to think that having such a large fucker was not a blessing but a curse. "You have the most delightful fanny, Mrs. Hoopenlicker," he grunted as her sex gripped him tightly. "Are you able to take more of my prick?"

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was knocking on heaven's door. Her mind was away with the fairy folk and the sensations that flowed from her sex made her weep with delirium. Her puss puss felt absolutely and completely stuffed full of his cock. And yet, from her glance, she saw that he had much more to give her. Could she take any more? Was she physically capable of being fucked completely by such a thing?

"Push, Mr. Johnson," she urged. "Push as if your very life depended on it. Force your ridiculous prick as far and as deep as you can. I shall accept every inch of you if it is the last thing I do!"

His landlady braced herself and thrust her buttocks up to make his penetration easier. Albert steeled himself and thrust forward with his hips in slow surges that had the poor woman impaled on his shaft yelping and squealing with wild abandon. The more he forced into her, the more vulgar her language became.

"MR. JOHNSON!" she shrieked. "MR. JOHNSON, SIR. Oh my, oh fiddlesticks, I swear on the almighty," Another thrust. "Ahhhhh, oh, oh, oh, fiddley FUCK!!"

Albert began to twitch. He was hopping from one foot to the other as he rammed more of his prick into his landlady who was twisting and swearing as she knelt there on the couch. His hands had pushed the cheeks of her arse apart and he had a clear view of her brown hole winking at him above her distended cunt.

"OH, you well hung bastard son," Mrs. Hoopenlicker grimaced as her lodger crouched over her with his large balls slapping wetly against her hairy mound. She felt a sudden surge of pure ecstasy and shuddered through the delightful spell it cast over her. Finally. He was completely inside her. She had done it. She had taken all he had to give and it felt wonderful. Her puss puss was full of cock and the head of it pressed somewhere deep inside that made her shiver from tip to toe.

She turned her head as he heaved and strained above her. "Take me, Sir," she begged. "Make me whine like a whore on a Sunday. Use that immense prick to pound my little fanny raw and fill my insides with your seed!"

The mounting of Mrs. Hoopenlicker continued apace. The room echoed to the sounds of passionate coitus with the fire casting erotic shadows upon the walls as they danced. Albert was struggling to keep his ardor in check as he flexed his hips back and forth against her upturned derriere. Goblin eyed, he drooled as he watched his fleshy spike appear and disappear inside his landlady who had grasped a cushion and was gnawing on it with a face contorted with pleasure and pain.

The filthy language she was using only added to his impending release. "Oh, Mrs. Hoopenlicker!" he cried as he banged away. "I adore the way you express your feelings in such a guttural way. But I fear such debasement shall soon tip me over the edge of madness!"

Mr. Johnson was right. Her language was from the gutter. A hellish place she had known all to well before her first husband had rescued her from the life she had been living amongst the dregs of humanity who inhabited the capitals underworld.

It was then she sensed that the young man riding her saddle was about to reach his peak. "Do not hold back, Mr. Johnson," she urged as his thrusts became more erratic. "My constitution is well able to withstand the tempest which you are about to unleash upon me!"

Her lodger exclaimed a sudden "OH!" and hammered her gripped buttocks thrice in quick succession as he shot his thick copious semen deep within the groaning woman.

Mrs. Hoopenlicker held firm as an exhausted Mr. Johnson collapsed on her as they reached the top of the mountain together. For an age, he covered her with his face close to hers and she could hear him panting like a sated dog in her right ear.

"Sir," she whispered eventually. "The deed is done. You may unmount me now for I need to remove the sponge."

Albert struggled up and watched as his landlady rolled onto her back, spread her thighs, and with a tug on the string hanging from her sex, pulled out the sodden dam. She held it up to the light as a teardrop of his spend dripped from it onto the floor.

As her young lodger stood there catching his breath, Mrs. Hoopenlicker knelt down in front of him and lifted up the drooping length of his spent cock so that it hung twitching from her grip. In the light from the fire, it still glistened wetly from the mix of their combined juices as she examined it closely before she licked his waning tumescence clean.

"Does that shock you, Mr. Johnson?" she asked as she knelt back.

Albert tried to rearrange his common sense and ability to speak as he watched his landlady lick her lips. "Yes. Very much so, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. Today is a day I shall never forget."

The small clock on the mantlepiece began to chime as she got to her feet and walked over to him. "The first of many I hope, Mr. Johnson," she whispered as she kissed him on the cheek. "The time is late and the day has been an eventful one. With your grace, I shall retire to bed and think upon things till I drop off. Be so good as to secure the locks and turn out the lamps."

He nodded. "Of course."

Mrs. Hoopenlicker stopped at the door and turned back. "Though it may not appear as such after our little tryst, Albert," she began. It was the first time she had called him by his first name which somehow made the moment more intimate. "Please be assured that I am normally not a woman of such loose morals. It is just that sometimes I like to pretend I am," she told him. "This day is done and tomorrow will bring what God or the devil decides. With that, I bid you a good night, Sir."

Her lodger watched her take her leave wondering what lay in store for him in the days ahead.

***

"The Copper Kettle" tea rooms just off Whitechapel were the hub around which the tide of local gossip and news ebbed and flowed.

It was mid-morning as the brass bell rang and another customer entered the establishment to meet up with her two friends who were sat in a far corner enjoying another day of doing nothing much at all.

"Ladies," said a familiar voice. "How are we this fine Summers day?"

Constance Mulligan and Edith Dowinger looked up to see their long-standing companion, Martha Hoopenlicker, hanging up her coat and coming over to join them.

Mrs. Dowinger smiled at her friend and raised an amused brow. "My, my," she noted with a glance to the lady on her right. "The way you're preening yourself, dear Martha, you look like the cat who got the cream. Has something happened?"

The younger woman sat down and composed herself as the maid delivered a hot pot of tea and a plate full of buttered scones. Pouring a cup, she smiled over the rim at her two friends watching her. She did so very much enjoy playing their little game of secrets and the adventures they dreamed up to while away the long hours of boredom.

She sat forward. "Ladies," she whispered conspiratorially. "By chance and circumstance, I may have come upon a rather well-endowed solution to our much-discussed little problem."

End.

***