The Quality of Mercy

The Quality of Mercy, First Story

By Alex Barton

Prologue

London, England, 1889

I like to think readers who have invested time and money in purchasing this privately printed memoir will indulge me for a moment to introduce what I have called 'The Affair of the Saxon Cross'.

Despite what Mr. Sherlock Holmes might think of the London Constabulary, as chronicled in the 'Strand Magazine' by his friend and colleague Dr. John Watson, my associates and I are not amiable buffoons. We might not be able to tell the difference between one hundred types of tobacco ash or deduce that a chap has just returned from Blackpool, has a mistress in Paris and spent five years prospecting for diamonds in South Africa from the appearance of lint on his breast pocket, but we have our methods. Mine are native cunning, a network of reliable informants, many as criminal as those they inform on, and a revolver which I carry in a purpose-made shoulder holster under my jacket. To subdue particularly stubborn miscreants I use a small but highly effective bludgeon, and the Marquess of Queensberry himself taught me how to lay out a bigger and stronger opponent.

My reminiscences differ from those of Dr. Watson in that they deal with obvious facts, not deductive reasoning. I have the greatest respect for Mr. Holmes but his interest lies in thwarting the schemes of jewel thieves, devious blackmailers and traitors to the British Empire. What happens to them once he has handed them over to Scotland Yard is not his concern. I, on the other hand, have been charged by the Metropolitan Police Commissioner with the apprehension of thieves, rapists and murderers and then ensuring justice is served by watching the trapdoor open beneath their feet at Newgate Prison. Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are not expected to see their investigations through to the bitter end: I have no choice. This has made me aware that, in certain circumstances, I have the power to display Shakespeare's 'quality of mercy', as I shall explain later in this account.

The focus in Dr. Watson's accounts of the exploits of Mr. Holmes and himself is on the application of intellect and deductive reasoning to the pursuit of crime; my memoirs are more concerned with the criminal body, particularly the female body...

And lastly I should add that Dr. Watson understood that it would hardly be appropriate to use my real name in his stories, not only because it would make my job considerably more difficult but also, when the good doctor intimates how readily Holmes outwitted the police, it would have engendered a degree of ridicule from my colleagues and the general public. He therefore chose the French-sounding name of 'Lestrade' for the policeman in his stories. I, on the other hand, would prefer to use my real name in this account, which is Detective Inspector Frank Tench (Retired), of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard.

*

The Affair of the Saxon Cross

Chapter One

It was a fine Spring morning in the metropolis and I sat at my kitchen table reading The Daily Telegraph with a pot of tea, fresh-baked bread, butter and Fortnum & Mason's thick cut orange marmalade at my elbow. I have always enjoyed breakfast because it is an interval before the demands of the day have to be met and this morning I had shaved and bathed as quietly as I could, hoping not to wake my 18-year-old granddaughter Henrietta, known to everyone as Hetty, who has lived with me since her parents died in the summer of '75 from enteric fever contracted from a contaminated water supply. Hetty survived because she was staying with me at the time: had she been home in the bosom of her family she, like them, would have ended up occupying the family vault in Highgate Cemetery. That I lost my beloved daughter and her husband was bad enough; that I might also have lost Hetty was unthinkable.

I took my fob watch from the pocket of my bathrobe, clicked it open and checked the time. 7.30am, so another hour before my housekeeper, Mrs. Ansell, was due. Excellent, I thought, plenty of time for what I had in mind. A widowed lady who worked for my Aunt Matilda for many years, when my dear aunt passed away I inherited Mrs. Ansell along with a fashionable mews house in Chelsea and a substantial annual income. I should add, for those of a logical frame of mind, that my inheritance was the reason I was able to retire at the age of 55. God bless dear Aunt Matilda.

Despite greatly looking forward to my darling granddaughter's entrance in search of toast and tea before Mrs. Ansell escorted her to the Brompton Academy for Young Ladies, I noticed an item on the front page of the newspaper which caught my attention.

'ROBBERIES CONTINUE AT KING'S CROSS STATION' the headline read and I scanned quickly through the account. In every theft the value of the items stolen was considerable, the thefts took place on the concourse of the station, and the criminals seemingly vanished from under the noses of the railway police and members of the local constabulary. According to the reporter the authorities were baffled and I decided it would be worth my while to take an investigative interest, a license which the Police Commissioner granted retired senior detectives provided they did not impede inquiries being carried out by serving officers. I believed, given the recent incidence of crime in the city, that despite the King's Cross thefts attracting the attention of the popular press, my former colleagues would be focused on cases which involved actual bodily harm, which this case did not.

I heard the delightful sound of singing coming from the bathroom and smiled. My dear miss had obviously decided she wanted her breakfast tea in the bath as she sometimes did and she knew I would be only too willing to oblige. Five minutes later, carrying a pot of tea arranged on a tray with a freshly picked rose from my small but lovingly-tended garden which is my pride and joy as an oasis of color and calm away from the dirt and grime of the mighty metropolis, I climbed the stairs, pausing only to open the door and seat myself on the wooden chair Hetty had already placed by the tub, knowing her grandfather so very well.

"Good morning, darling," I said, leaning down to kiss my granddaughter gently on the lips.

Her blue eyes met mine and she paused from where she was playing her fingers between her open legs, her clitoris standing proud of its hood, the creamy slopes of her pert breasts half-submerged in the lavender-scented bubbles. Hetty's nipples were too tempting to resist and I bent my head, unconcerned that my beard went into the suds, and sucked one between my lips, loving the sound of her delighted laughter followed by a soft intake of breath as she sighed with pleasure.

"Good morning, Grandpapa," she said softly, her voice thick with the intensity of her desire.

I pulled the sleeve of my robe up to the elbow and stroked my hand down across the smoothness of her belly so my fingers joined hers in the soft black curls covering her mons, my eyes meeting Hetty's. I loved the way her beautiful breasts rose and fell as I joined my fingers with hers so she could concentrate on working her slender digits in and out of her cunt at the same time as I stroked, caressed and gently flicked the tiny organ of her greatest pleasure.

Alternating licking and biting first one nipple and then the other while Hetty guided my head to where she wanted my suckling mouth next, I masturbated her in time with her own movements, loving the heat of her breath against my ear, her lips seeking mine in incestuous desire. I kissed her passionately, delighted by the enthusiasm with which she returned my ardor, making me realize anew that I loved her more than life itself.

"I need to fuck your ass, Hetty," I whispered, my eyes meeting hers.

"Yes, Grandpapa, you do," she said and gently disengaged my fingers from within her body so she could stand up in the tub and lean forward to brace herself on the edge, presenting her curvaceous bottom to my excited eyes as she did so. Water mixed with her abundant cunt cream dripped down the inside of her thighs as she turned and looked at me expectantly.

I reached for the bottle of aromatic oil kept on the wooden dresser which Mrs. Ansell believes to be for medicinal purposes but Hetty and I know to be placed there for quite a different reason. I stripped off my robe and stood with my cock projecting above my pendant balls, the tip fiery red with the fierceness of my desire to fuck the divine orifice so prettily presented to my rapt gaze. A quick application of the bottle's contents and my cock was glistening with oil in slippery readiness as was Hetty's asshole, my fingers having lubricated her anus and as far inside her rectum as they could reach.

My prick, so familiar with the tight passage into her body that was about to encase its length, Hetty's virginity remaining intact for the pleasure of her husband and to avoid the risk of pregnancy because both she and I delighted in the copious amount of hot, gooey sperm I spurted when I climaxed, slid slowly past the deliciously tight constriction of Hetty's anal sphincter and entered her rectum. She met my gentle forward movements with her own backward pressure, her asshole slowly enveloping my cock as I reached under her body to fill my hands with her pert breasts, my fingers pinching her nipples to heighten her pleasure.

Only someone who has known the exquisite pleasure of fucking the ass of his daughter or granddaughter will understand the intensity of emotion that results from having his cock buried deep within the bowels of a young woman he adores; it is the finest expression of incestuous love known to man and I encourage every father sexually attracted to their offspring to experience a similar ecstasy.

Aware it would heighten my arousal to look down and see the thickness of my prick entering her body, stretching her anus to the full, my granddaughter reached back to pull open the cheeks of her bottom, trusting me to hold her steady as she could no longer brace herself on the bathtub's edge. My hands fondling her breasts, my lips met Hetty's in a torrid kiss, my balls slapping against her cuntlips dripping with the bathwater and her cream which poured out from the opening of her cunt as evidence of her intense arousal.

Lost in a delirium of intense pleasure, I fucked my granddaughter's beautiful bottom deep and hard with every stroke. Time and again my groin met her curvy buttocks, our bodies slapping together in the fierceness of our coupling as I worked my prick back and forth along the length of her back passage, luxuriating in the tightness of her anus gripping my glans then grinding the head deep within her bowels.

My breath quickened as my orgasm approached and Hetty broke the kiss to gasp, "Yes, Grandpapa, YESSS! Come in my asshole, pump your spunk into my bum...!" and I, a dutiful and loving grandfather, did exactly as I was bid and emptied my balls into the darkest depths of her welcoming asshole. Hetty responded by trembling in my hands, her whole body shuddering as a fierce orgasm shook her frame and I felt a warm gush of liquid spurt out over my balls to splash into the now-cool bathwater.

Slowly I descended from the heights of sexual pleasure and gently withdrew my prick from Hetty's rectum. As I did so, Hetty first voided her bladder into the bathwater then reached her hand back and wriggled her bottom so a mass of my sperm was expelled from her rectum into her waiting palm. She giggled and winked at me as she slurped the creamy mass into her mouth and swallowed it with evident enjoyment.

"Goodness," I said, surprised by my granddaughter's lascivious behavior. "I'm sure I never taught you that, Hetty," wondering whether she was following her natural inclination or demonstrating something delightfully wanton one of her female friends at the Brompton Academy had suggested she do. Girls talk about sex with as much delight in sharing their experiences as do men, especially when one horny young lady is encouraging another to be as sexually adventurous with a beloved relative as she is. Hetty had told me she was not the only girl in her class whose openings were dripping with a beloved male relative's sperm while they did their best to concentrate on learning to be refined young ladies...

Winking at my niece, I stepped back and said as I reached for my robe, "Come along now, darling, time for you to get dressed."

"I love you, Grandpapa," Hetty said as she smiled at me, the radiance of a thoroughly well-fucked girl suffusing her features.

"And I love you too, my darling granddaughter," I said. "More than I can ever tell you."

*

Shortly after Hetty left in the company of Mrs. Ansell, I dressed in my morning suit with a diamond stickpin through my cravat, a birthday gift from my dear departed Aunt Matilda, and stepped out, closing and locking the door behind me. A hansom cab was just drawing up outside a neighbor's house and I hailed the driver, telling him I wished to go to Long Acre, close by the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. The driver, assuming from my appearance that I wanted to visit Grand Lodge, the headquarters of the Freemasons in England, tipped his hat and said, "Of course, sir."

It is not far from where I live to Covent Garden and I knocked with my cane on the roof of the cab, calling out, "Here, please," when we drew up level with the steps of Grand Lodge. I paid the driver and waited until he drove off before crossing the road and entering retail premises that sold, in addition to the regalia for every level of Freemasonry, ecclesiastical garments and accessories.

The assistant behind the counter was astute enough to notice two things immediately, as I intended he should. The first was the diamond stick pin, which implied wealth, and the second was the ring I was wearing on the little finger of my right hand, similar to rings on display in the case on which the assistant's hands were resting.

Freemasons do not advertise their membership of The Brotherhood but they will, on occasion, wear items of jewelry that have on them the Masonic insignia of the square and compasses. One such is my signet ring which, to all intents and purposes, is of plain gold with my initials engraved on the face. However, should I so wish, I can remove the ring and swivel the bezel to display the Masonic insignia and this I had taken a moment to do outside the shop before entering. (I long ago accepted that membership of the Freemasons was essential to a successful career at Scotland Yard.)

"Good morning, sir," the assistant greeted me.

"And a good morning to you," I said.

"How may I assist you?"

"My good friend the Honorable Frederick Ngomo has been appointed Bishop of a diocese in southern Africa and I would like to purchase a gift to celebrate his success."

"Certainly, sir," the assistant said. "If you would care to follow me?" and he led the way to a display case containing all manner of religious objects made of various precious metals.

"We have the crosses traditionally worn by bishops as a mark of their rank in platinum, gold and silver, sir, with chains of various thicknesses if the item is to be worn round the neck," the assistant said, indicating with a sweep of his hand across the case. I made a show of bending closer to inspect them but I had already made up my mind: a plain silver cross would be best, worn on a thin silver chain.

"That one will be ideal," I said.

"Certainly, sir. That design is modelled on an ancient Saxon cross found at a burial site in the east of England. I feel sure your friend the bishop will appreciate its unique design. Please allow me to place it in a sturdy case suitable for postage. Unless you wish us to send it to the bishop for you, sir?"

"No, that will not be necessary, thank you," I said. "I shall be sailing to South Africa shortly to attend the bishop's investiture."

"Of course, sir," and the clerk removed the cross from the case, reached underneath to a drawer, withdrew a blue velvet case and arranged the cross with its chain inside, accepting in return the banknotes I handed him.

"Excellent service," I said, and slipped the box containing the cross into my pocket.

"Thank you, sir," the assistant said. "May I wish you a very good day," and bowed politely as I left the shop.

I hailed a passing cab and asked the driver to take me to a theatrical costumier of my acquaintance. In the course of my cases it has sometimes been necessary to adopt a disguise and this contact has been particularly useful. I then returned home with my mission accomplished, secure in the knowledge I had done nothing that would cause the assistant in the ecclesiastical goods shop to retain my appearance or manner in his mind. However, should his curiosity be piqued and he decided to check, he would find the announcement of the appointment of the Very Reverend Frederick Ngomo as Bishop of Cape Town in that morning's edition of The Daily Telegraph.

*

Sherlock Holmes and I have something in common: we both use deductive reasoning to solve our cases. Admittedly he uses visible evidence while I use cause and effect and sometimes fall back on best guess, but the end results are the same. Despite the sensational nature of the King's Cross Station robberies in terms of the value of the goods acquired, I was sure they were essentially crimes of opportunity, albeit carefully planned and executed.

The thefts all took place on the concourse of the station, not in adjoining alleyways or the cab rank at the front. They all took place around midday and in broad daylight. No known criminal was held to be responsible. It therefore stood to reason that the thief or thieves blended with the general populace and were not remarkable in terms of features or appearance as so many common criminals are as a result of having to defend their ill-gotten gains from anyone who becomes aware they have them. Scars, broken noses and badly knitted broken jaws are all common trademarks of the professional thief as is a tendency to dress without regard to the opinions of others. That no member of the railway police had reported seeing someone of this appearance suggested an obvious degree of respectability and, if my suspicions were correct, the probable use of a departing train as a convenient means of escape.

I checked Bradshaw's Guide and saw the Great Northern line served stations to the north and east, notably to Cambridge and then on to King's Lynn in Norfolk. Trains ran every ninety minutes and the first stop was Finsbury Park, only three miles away. It struck me as perfectly plausible that a person or persons unknown might carry out a theft, catch the up train, alight at Finsbury Park and then catch the down train back to King's Cross in order to carry out further thefts. At the end of a productive day the thief simply remained on the train and alighted in Cambridge, considerably richer until the next spell of larceny became necessary.

I wrote a note for Mrs. Ansell requesting she chaperone Hetty until my return, which might be late. I knew this would inconvenience her so I also left a pound note which I was sure would be more than sufficient compensation. I then went upstairs to change into the results of my visit to the costumiers, emerging from the house a half hour later to hail a hansom.

In common with any busy London station there was considerable hustle and bustle going on when I alighted at King's Cross. Hawkers hollered, prostitutes wheedled and mocked, ragamuffins yelled, traders laughed and argued, street performers sang and juggled and danced, gentlemen brandished their canes and doffed their hats, ladies bobbed their parasols and looked flustered by the melee, hansom cabs rattled and waited for passengers, wheels crunched over cobbles and dogs barked. It was like Bedlam, typical of London. But, through it all, a figure glided serene, accorded respect by all he encountered. That figure was me because I was wearing the garb of a bishop of the Church of England, the Saxon cross conspicuous around my neck.

*

I made my way toward the station waiting room, pausing to speak to a young man working as a porter.

"Got a minute, lad?" I asked, seeing him become wary because I spoke in a voice that showed he and I came from the same background rather than the aristocracy from whose ranks clergymen usually arise.

"Wotcherwant, guv'nor? Better be careful showing that off," he said, nodding toward the Saxon cross, clearly visible on my chest. "Lots of bad lads hereabouts would have that off you double quick."

"Come over here," I said, leading the way toward one of the great stone pillars supporting the vaulted glass roof.

The young man followed, deeply suspicious, but then relaxed when, out of sight of passers-by, I showed him my Scotland Yard warrant card.

"What's your name, lad?" I asked.

"Henry Spinks, guv'nor," the porter said. "You after the thieves then, Inspector? Railway police haven't a clue who's been doing it, running up and down like headless chickens they are, but it's a hopeless task when so many people pass through here every day."

"Yes I am, and I need your help."

"Anything to help the law," he said and grinned as he added, "And make a few shillings?"

"Of course," I said and smiled back. "Henry, I'm going to sit in the station waiting room. Keep a close eye on me when I come out and, if I give you the signal to follow someone, switch your attention to the Cambridge train. It's imperative you ignore anyone I come into contact with who leaves the station concourse. Have you got that?"

"No problem, Inspector. It might be a bit sticky if someone expects me to carry their cases?"

"Be very polite but say firmly you're on official railway police business. Look important when you say it, alright?"

"Got it," Henry said and I could see he was keen for the adventure.

I took my leave and slid my fob watch from my trouser pocket, checking the time against the huge clock positioned above the station restaurant, next to which was the waiting room and then the station branch of the booksellers, W. H. Smith. It was 10.45am and the 11.00am train to Cambridge was standing at the northbound platform, steam billowing from the engine's funnel, passengers and their luggage being assisted into carriages by porters.

The waiting room was empty except for a young woman with a pram. She said, "Good morning, Your Grace," and I smiled back, doubting very much she was the perpetrator of a number of significant crimes. We sat together in silence for around ten minutes and then she got up and left. The 11am train having departed, I gathered the cross on its chain and slipped it into the inside pocket of my jacket, deciding I could enjoy a cup of coffee in the restaurant before returning to the waiting room to sit until the next train for Cambridge left at midday.

Out on the concourse I caught Henry's eye and he hurried over.

"See anything, Henry?" I asked.

"No, sir," he said. "Kept a close eye on the entrance door as you requested but no-one came in or out except for a lady with a pram."

"Alright, do your job as usual. But be sure to be back as soon as you can, alright?"

"You can count on me, Inspector," he said and I nodded, pleased he was both alert and a useful ally.

Around 11.30 I was back in the waiting room reading a book when an extremely attractive woman carrying a small black leather bag entered, accompanied by a well-dressed young man I estimated to be about 19 or 20. A mother and son I assumed although I paid the young man little heed once I took in the extreme attractiveness of the woman's voluptuous figure under the expensive black satin dress she was wearing. She had a beautiful face under a black hat with a black lace veil pinned above, extremely large breasts, a tiny waist and a pronounced curve to the rondures of her bottom which made her irresistibly attractive and it was all I could do not to display an involuntary and prominent erection.

The woman appeared to have been crying and she dabbed her eyes and let out a soft sob, glancing across at me as she said in a low, cultured voice, 'Good morning, Your Grace,' and made to sit down.

"Charley, darling, would you fetch me something to read from Smith's?" the woman said, reaching into her black bag and handing the young man a ten-shilling note. "The journey will be tedious and I need something to take my mind off the miseries of the funeral."

Perfect, I thought. The woman had set out her stall most adequately, dispensed with anyone coming between her and myself, and given me exactly what I needed to strike up a conversation.

"May I offer my condolences on your loss, madam?" I said, appearing both embarrassed and slightly flustered by her evident sexual attractiveness.

"Thank you, Your Grace," the woman replied, her full red lips making me think thoughts quite unbecoming of the collar and purple shirt I was wearing as a mark of my rank in the church. She went on, "My beloved elder sister has just passed away having contracted tuberculosis. We expected her demise but it was still a terrible shock and one so hates funerals."

"Indeed," I said. "But surely one takes hope from the certainty of the life everlasting...?" and let my voice trail off. My eyes met hers in commiseration although in reality I was enjoying the sight of her magnificent breasts rising and falling beneath her dress rather than being taken in by her appearance of profound grief.

Purely coincidentally the silver cross flashed in a shaft of midday sunshine through the windows overhead and I saw the woman's eyes glance down at it.

"May I say that is a most beautiful sign of your eminent rank, Your Grace?" she said.

"Indeed, Madam," I said. "I am told it was made by a Saxon craftsman during the ninth century AD and was excavated from a burial mound in Suffolk. I really should not be wearing it in London but otherwise it would sit in a display case and I do so enjoy the envious comments of my fellow bishops at meetings of the Anglican church's General Synod."

The woman managed a sweet smile. "Quite so," she said.

"But I will miss my train if I stay here gossiping," I said, gathering my belongings and making sure the bereaved woman took in every detail of the artefact round my neck. "I wish for a speedy end to your grief, madam," I added and bowed to her.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, the handkerchief once again wiping away a non-existent tear.

What happened next was perfectly choreographed.

The young man suddenly appeared at the door of the waiting room and said, "Our train, mother," and the woman stood up abruptly. That meant that out of courtesy I had to hold the door open for her as she passed through. I followed after but almost immediately felt the barrel of a revolver in the small of my back, a man's voice snarling in my ear, "Take the cross off, Reverend, and slip it back to me."

I did as instructed but turned round the second the pistol was withdrawn to see a powerfully built man wearing a bowler hat barging through the milling throng and colliding with the woman's son as he did so. They both sprawled to the floor and then, while the son regained his feet and shook his fist at the ruffian, the man in the bowler hat scrambled up and made for the nearest exit.

I stood for a moment then looked around urgently for Henry Spinks, both mother and son having disappeared.

Henry ran up. "Cambridge train, guv'nor," he said. "Fourth carriage up. She's alone in the compartment. The young gent cut through to platform nine where there's an exit to the back of the station."

"Excellent, Henry," I said and handed him half a crown, climbing aboard the train just as it was about to depart.

*

The first order of business was to find the train's guard who was in the goods wagon at the back of the train.

"You've gone the wrong way, Your Grace," he said in a friendly tone. "Let me assist you."

"No need, old chap," I said affably and took out my warrant card, showing it to him while making sure he also saw the pistol in its leather holster.

"How can I help, sir?" the guard asked, obviously concerned.

"I need to interrogate a woman seated in a compartment in the fourth carriage," I said, taking out my wallet and handing the guard a pound note. "No-one is to enter the compartment at any station between here and Cambridge, is that clear? There was another robbery at King's Cross a few minutes ago and I'm quite sure the woman is involved."

"Of course, sir," the guard said, slipping the note into his pocket. "I'll stand guard myself. And thank you for this," he added. "Most kind."

"Oh and one more thing," I said. "You might hear the sound of slapping, loud cries and perhaps even screams. Please don't be alarmed but I am determined to catch the gang responsible and I shall not hesitate to use force if necessary to find out what this woman knows and obtain a confession."

The guard looked serious as he nodded.

"Understood, sir," he said and led the way along the train until we reached the entrance to the fourth carriage where he stood guard and I went on alone.

The woman in the black satin dress, seemingly no longer crying, was sitting with her long black hair flowing down over her shoulders, her hat and veil discarded. She was glancing idly out of the window, a slight smile on her face, presumably waiting for the train to stop at Finsbury Park, less than five minutes away.

She turned at the sound of the door opening and her face showed shock and surprise when she saw who it was. But she was quick to recover her composure and said, "Your Grace! I had no idea we were catching the same train. This is an unexpected pleasure."

"Unexpected I'm sure, Madam," I said, pulling down the blinds either side and above the door of the carriage. "But I doubt very much my presence will be a pleasure for you."

"Why, Your Grace, whatever do you mean?" the woman said, her voice registering her sudden fear at seeing me seal the compartment off from the corridor although the window to the outside was unobscured.

Taking the seat opposite her, I reached into the pocket of my jacket and took out my warrant card, displaying it to her and making sure she saw my revolver.

"Dear lady, as you can see I am Detective-Inspector Frank Tench from the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard and you are under arrest for the theft of a number of valuable items, stolen with the assistance of the young man I presume is your son and the ruffian who was wearing a bowler hat. I must ask you to open the bag above you if you please."

"Surely you can't be serious!" the woman said, her eyes flashing in anger, every inch the unjustly accused embodiment of unimpeachable innocence.

"Perfectly serious," I said and leaned across to slap her, quite hard, across the face.

The woman cried out in shock, her head banging against the window.

My eyes met hers as I said in a low, hard voice, "If the gun I felt in the small of my back had gone off I would have died an agonizing death and taken many days to do it. And that would have meant the gallows for both you and your son."

I got to my feet and reached for the black bag on the rack above and opened it. As I suspected it contained my Saxon cross and two wallets, all handed off by the bowler-hatted man to the woman's son during the faked collision.

"Now, my dear - I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Adele," the woman said very quietly. "Adele Garforth."

"Well the first point you should be aware of, Adele," I said as the train slowed and pulled into Finsbury Park station where the young man was standing on the platform anxiously scanning the carriages, "is that you won't be getting off here. We shall be chatting happily together until we reach Cambridge."

The young man's face registered his shock and dismay as he took in his mother remaining seated, the bishop sitting opposite her.

"Is that your son?" I asked idly as the guard waited for the station attendant to blow his whistle and wave us off.

"Yes," Adele said, obviously deciding to tell the truth. "And the second point?" she asked as the train began moving, leaving the young man staring after us helplessly.

I relaxed and sat back, crossing my legs as I stared openly at the abundance of her breasts.

"While I have no doubt you and your accomplices are responsible for the thefts at the station, it is regrettable that all I have been able to recover is the Saxon cross which I wore deliberately to attract your attention while the two wallets..."

I reached for them, extracted the banknotes which I slipped into my inside pocket and then opened the small casement window and threw both into the train's slipstream. "... Have gone missing and are therefore inadmissible as evidence."

Adele's eyes met mine as she asked, "Curiously merciful behavior, Inspector, when stealing the wallets alone would have earned me three years hard labor in Wormwood Scrubs."

"Merciful, yes. But not without two conditions."

"I see. And they are?"

"That you inform your gang that Detective-Inspector Tench will not hesitate to hunt the three of you down if any similar robberies take place in future at King's Cross station. Is that clear?"

"Understood but it's not my gang, Inspector," Adele said, the fight gone out of her now. "However I assure you I will do my best. And the other condition?"

I leaned across and put my hand to the cheek I had slapped, stroking it gently. Then I ran my hand down to her huge left breast and cupped it, hefting the weight as I ran my thumb back and forth across her nipple. I could feel the tip stiffen beneath the fabric.

"Madam, you are both beautiful and highly desirable. I intend to spend our journey to Cambridge fucking your mouth, pussy and ass, alternating between them."

Her head whipped towards me, her eyes startled. "Oh god!" she said in shock and then stammered, "But... there is no blind over the window so we would be in full view of anyone waiting to board at the stations along the route!"

"Quite so," I said, my eyes meeting hers. "And that prospect increases my arousal greatly."

She hesitated for a moment and then said in a firmer voice, "And what of my husband? He will surely never forgive such an outrage - "

I released her breast reluctantly and sat back, my eyes meeting hers. "You have no husband, madam," I said quietly. "Or at least not living. There is a mark on the ring finger of your right hand where your wedding band rested. I checked in the waiting room."

"You are most observant, Inspector," Adele said, defeat in her voice. "Yes, he died of cholera several years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, becoming impatient. "But unbutton your dress, please, so that I can view the glory of your sumptuous breasts."

Aware that I gave her no choice, Adele's fingers trembled as she unbuttoned the front of her dress, finding it difficult to disrobe as urgently as I wanted her to. Tired of waiting, as soon as enough buttons were undone I leaned across and thrust my hands into the bodice, caressing the creamy flesh of her bosom, tearing the fabric of the dress as I filled my hands to overflowing with her soft, warm flesh. When I reached her nipples they were already fully erect, showing she might be fearful of what I intended to do to her but my caresses aroused her, as did the obvious intensity of my desire for her, my hardened prick clearly visible along the leg of my pants. A delicious quiver traveled from my caressing fingers through my body, all the way to the tip of my cock. Impatient for more, I tugged the material of the dress further away, hearing more tearing, and then a distinct rip as I bared her massive breasts completely.

In their size, fullness and beauty, resembling two enormous, ripe pears, Adele's bosom surpassed even the pert sweetness of my beloved Hetty's. Their curves delighted my eyes, her areolae large and light pink, smooth as cream, soft as silk, the tips of her nipples fully erect. My hope now was to arouse her to want to acquiesce to my demands but, as I had warned her, I was quite prepared to take what I wanted if she thought to resist me.

I dipped my head to take the bud of her nipple into my mouth. With my lips caressing her areola, and my tongue washing over her taut tip, I closed my teeth gently, biting into the sweet-tasting bud. My cock throbbed when I felt Adele's body shiver and she gasped and squirmed in response to my ardent sucking and biting.

I eased her back into the seat then gave her other nipple the same mix of sucking and biting, my teeth closing round the bud and drawing it out from the surrounding areola, letting it snap back when I judged pleasure would turn to pain. In response she moaned loudly with her growing arousal and I was relieved I had paid the guard not to intrude on what he must have had no doubt was happening in the shuttered compartment of carriage number four.

I slid one hand down Adele's body as I suckled her breasts, my fingers gathering the heavy material of her dress to tug it up over her thighs. Underneath she was wearing a garter belt and black silk stockings ending in black leather shoes with the highest of heels. I realized this was to give her the appearance of greater height, otherwise she would have been charmingly petite.

My nose filled with the scent of her arousal, I ran my finger up and down where her silk drawers covered her slit before I slipped them beneath the material. Her downy pubic hair, a tangle of soft black curls, was soaking wet with her excitement. Probing further, with my mouth still locked first on one nipple then the other, my fingers sank into the slippery walls of her cunt, her cream flowing out over my knuckles.

I released her nipple, giving the satin skin of her areola a teasing lick, and then knelt between her legs so my head was level with her mons, the fabric of her drawers now soaked where her cream had leaked out. I pulled her underwear down her legs and over her boots and discarded them. The sight of her pretty pink cuntlips splayed open and wet with her excitement nearly sent me over the edge as her tangy musk rose up from between her legs.

I pulled her cuntlips further apart and stroked my thumb gently over the erect bud of her swollen clit. Adele moaned and squirmed beneath my fingers. Then I lowered my head and dove into her wet opening.

Her cream tasted deliciously sweet, like liquid honey. I ran my tongue over the inner walls of her labia and felt her body begin to tremble, her legs taut with her arousal against my face. I darted my tongue at her clit, flicking the tip of it, causing more thick cream to gush from the pink depths of her cunt. I did this until her hips were undulating rhythmically beneath me and she was pressing herself up and against my mouth, begging for more. Finally I sucked her entire clit between my lips, masturbating it, and her soaked pussy closed around my face, hot and gooey. Her thighs enclosed my head as she began shaking with her impending orgasm. I looked up, hoping to meet her eyes, but her head was turned up toward the window, her breasts bouncing with her heaving chest as she fought for breath, her hands moving to rest on my head, her fingers threading in my hair so she could pull my face, mouth and tongue hard against her splayed cuntlips.

She began to breathe more heavily and her stomach muscles tightened as I increased the rhythmic lapping of my tongue against her clit. "Oh god, oh, oh, oh," she panted. Her moaning cries seemed to be as sex-soaked as her cunt and it occurred to me that if the guard was listening he would surely be surprised by the unusual nature of my investigative methods, not to mention masturbating furiously at the sound of woman being thoroughly pleasured.

But then I felt a burst of hot liquid against my chin and Adele's clit pulsed under my tongue as she jammed her hand into her mouth to stifle her scream and thrust her hips upward. She came hard, struggling not to cry out in ecstasy, and her whole body spasmed as she shuddered, almost like a seizure, before she collapsed, trembling.

I rose up, unbuttoned my trousers and bared my cock which rose up huge and hard, quivering with the intensity of my arousal, the tip already dripping with semen. I dropped my hand to swipe up the bead at the tip but then, to my surprise, Adele reached down and used her thumb and index finger to smear it over the glans. My cock jerked wildly in response. Slowly, aware I was watching her, she raised her hand and brought the pearl of semen to her mouth, closing her lips around the tip of her finger as she sucked it off.

Our eyes met.

I knew I could have thrust the head of my cock into the welcoming heat of her mouth, her soft wet lips enveloping the shaft until the tip entered the back of her throat. But I also knew that if I did that I would climax immediately, spurting my thick cream into her suckling mouth to pool in her belly. I had told her I intended to fuck her beautiful ass and I could wait no longer.

"Turn over Adele," I said. "Kneel with your upper body on the seat."

She did as instructed without hesitation.

I was presented with the utter perfection of her plump, perfectly formed ass, the deep, dark cleft between the two rondures inviting me to worship at the altar of the tiny opening nestled between them. While I have spent many an hour kissing and licking Hetty's bottom when she lies face down on my bed, squirming and whimpering with delight, I knew there was only a limited time available before our train reached Cambridge so I knelt and hungrily pushed my face between the furrow of Adele's buttocks, my tongue seeking her tiny, puckered opening like a hungry man seeking sustenance. She tasted pink and sweet, the rich musk of her bowels filling my senses, arousing me so intensely I was close to ejaculating without even touching myself.

I stood and thrust my quivering cock into Adele's clasping cunt. She was so wet I glided into her like a hot knife through butter. Her pussy clenched around my cock and I felt the tremors of her second climax pulse around me. I fucked her slowly, determined to make her come again and again as I thrust deep inside of her, reaching under her body to fondle the soft weight of her breasts, my mind filled with the thought that one day Hetty's breasts might be of a comparable size which was a most pleasing prospect. Time and again I squeezed the warm flesh of the huge globes, forcing Adele's body back onto my pistoning cock, grinding my glans into the very depths of her womb.

I was close, so close to climax it was almost impossible to hold back from orgasm. But somehow I managed and dragged my cock free of the wet clasp of Adele's cunt, releasing her breasts so I could clasp my fingers round the shaft of my prick and position the bulging tip against the tight bud of her rosehole. I heard a sharp intake of breath from her and then I lowered my hips, forcing the engorged head of my cock past the tight muscle of her anal sphincter and into the depths of her rectum until my balls slapped against her cuntlips and my entire thick, steel-hard shaft was buried in her hot, tight, back passage.

For long minutes I fucked Adele's asshole. More than once I ground the head of my cock deep in her bowels and then dragged it free, scrabbling up so I was level with her head and twining my fingers in her hair so I could turn her face toward my quivering cock, forcing her to open her lips and suck it into her mouth. I did not care if she suckled me against her will, I simply forced the full length of the shaft down her throat, my balls hard up against her lips. Delirious with pleasure, I let her suck and swallow my sperm until I dragged my cock free and then sank it, with a deep sigh of pleasure echoed by a whimper of discomfort from Adele, back into the depths of her bowels. I did this completely oblivious of who might be able to see my desperate perversion through the window as the train halted at stations en route to Cambridge until I could hold back no longer and climaxed while embedded in her upturned bottom, so hard I could not hold back a loud bellow and a string of expletives as I spurted my sperm into her receptive bowels. Then I collapsed on top of her for a moment, my chest heaving with the force of my passionate lust for her glorious body.

Suddenly aware we could only be a few minutes from our destination, I slowly withdrew my prick, sperm dripping from the still engorged tip, from Adele's distended asshole and sat back in order to button my trousers, regretting there was not time to apply my suckling mouth to the inviting opening gaping before me. Adele lifted herself to her feet and let her dress fall back into place, buttoning up as much of her bodice as I had not damaged in my eagerness to mouthe her breasts, the front now liberally spattered with her saliva and my sperm where I had repeatedly withdrawn from her asshole to plunge my cock into her mouth. Then she sat while I stood, her eyes meeting mine, wondering perhaps if, now that I had taken what I wanted from her, I intended to renege on our bargain.

"A most satisfying fuck indeed, my dear Adele," I said, seeing her breathe a sigh of relief as I placed my hand on the handle of the door. "In other circumstances I would have suggested I take a room at The Cambridge Arms and you join me for dinner, continuing our lovemaking thereafter. But I have a granddaughter in my care and must reluctantly return to London."

I paused for a moment and then continued.

"I shall leave you to consider what you will tell your two accomplices to explain why your ill-gotten gains were so gratefully received by St. Barnardo's Hospital for Orphans, although I feel sure they can spare a ten-pound note in order that you might be able to purchase a replacement for your beautiful black dress, for the damage to which I sincerely apologize."

I placed the money on the seat and smiled at her.

"Good day to you, Madam," I said and then added, "Oh and the Metropolitan Police thanks you for your kind co-operation."

With that I left the compartment and alighted from the train at Cambridge Station to wait for the return train to the metropolis.

And the Saxon cross? It is here on my desk as I wait for Hetty to finish reading this account while standing next to me, my hand under her skirts, my long middle finger moving slowly back and forth past her anus and into her rectum. I am sure she will find the account of her assfucking in the bath and the train journey with Adele sufficiently arousing to bare her breasts and spread herself face down on my desk where I will once again be able to bury my prick in the tight heat of her back passage.

It might even be said that I am absolutely counting on it...

Chapter Two

I expected to hear nothing further from or about Adele Garforth except perhaps, with considerable sadness, her name in The Telegraph because she and her son had been unable to steer clear of criminal enterprises and had been arrested. However, to my surprise, this turned out not to be the case.

Not long after my encounter with the beautiful widow I was sitting one morning in my study going through a cold case file the Metropolitan Police Commissioner had agreed I could review in the hope that a solution might present itself. The case was twenty years old and criminology, as with all sciences, had made considerable advances in that time. New methods of analysis and detection made it highly rewarding to bring fresh eyes to past crimes.

There was a knock on the door and Hetty appeared carrying the morning's post and bringing me a fresh cup of tea. She had once confessed she loved to flirt with the young postman whose round included our house and I wondered if she had treated him to her enticing smile and a flash of her bare breasts before quickly rebuttoning the front of the rather severe dress she usually wore to the Brompton Academy for Young Ladies.

She was a vision of loveliness and I returned her good morning kiss with great ardor after she whispered her thanks in my ear for the pleasure I had given her the night before when I sucked her cunny to a number of intense orgasms. She and I both know I cannot resist buggering her when she comes to my bedroom to say goodnight if she is wearing one of her pretty silk peignoirs, especially as her rosy nipples are clearly visible through the thin silk of such garments, just as the tiny slit of her mons is presented to my hungry eyes.

"You have a very interesting-looking letter, Grandpapa," Hetty said, her eyes sparkling as she handed it to me. "A woman's handwriting, I am sure."

"Is that so, my little detective?" I said, turning my chair so she might sit on my lap and read it with me.

The letter was written in lavender ink on excellent quality paper.

Dear Inspector Tench -

As I do not know your address in London, I hope you will not mind my writing to you care of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard.

I am sure you imagine me to be an experienced, even hardened criminal, but I can assure you this is far from the case. My role was to play, with the assistance of my son Charley, the grieving widow and entice men into lowering their guard by their attraction to my face and form which I flatter myself are not unattractive: the planning and execution of the crimes was down to 'The Man in the Bowler Hat' whose name it would be best for you not to know, as I shall explain.

Why have I written this letter, you must be wondering.

It is because The Man in the Bowler Hat was not best pleased when he discovered I had failed in my part of the plot. He threatened that he would inform on Charley and myself to the police unless we made amends by committing further crimes, something I was extremely reluctant to do because you knew my name and had said you would seek retribution if I made such a choice. The Bowler-Hatted Man made it clear he would accept no reluctance on the part of my son and myself which forced Charley into taking measures to ensure this man would never be able to carry out his threat.

I will not give you further details but, suffice it to say, Charley has placed himself beyond the reach of the law by living and working under a false identity in Liverpool in order to earn enough to pay for his passage to America where relatives on my late husband's side will look after him. My earnest wish is that we shall not be parted forever; that one day I will be able to visit him and be introduced to whichever young woman is fortunate enough to become his wife for I swear to you that he is a good and kind young man and only chose the course he did to protect me.

And so I come to the point of my letter. Without my son I am destitute which means I will shortly lose the roof over my head. The man who received the items we stole in exchange for money only ever paid us a small fraction of their worth and I gave what remained of my savings to Charley to see him safely to the United States.

You might have expected the only thing I noticed about you during our encounter was the extreme size of your male organ and your choice of my bottom to gratify your lust. But I also noticed that you, too, wore no wedding ring. So I shall ask you plainly, in the light of my straitened circumstances, do you have need of a mistress?

I would require no more than lodgings in a respectable neighborhood as I am sure you will agree befits a woman who is both intelligent and cultured. I believe you would find me an entertaining companion to take to dinner, the theater or the opera, and quite willing to satisfy you in whatever manner you wish in bed. I may not have given you the impression I enjoyed your impaling my bottom with your stallion shaft on the train but I can assure you I did, and I would be perfectly amenable to this form of lovemaking whenever you so wished. I should add that my late husband often remarked on my skill as a fellatrix and that I delight in taking a man's prick in my pussy which offers the added piquancy of squirting a copious amount of warm liquid when I climax, a particular pleasure for men who enjoy feeling it splashed onto their spasming balls when they ejaculate. I am also not averse, having indulged my late husband in this desire, to have warm, fresh urine directed onto my face and over my breasts should that be arousing to you. You will be relieved to hear I cannot become pregnant due to surgery necessary after Charley's premature birth.

Sir, I cannot 'set out my stall' more plainly than this. You showed both passionate desire and mercy toward me on the train: I implore you to consider doing so once again.

I look forward to your most urgently required response,

Adele Garforth

"Goodness, Grandpapa," Hetty said, squirming her delectable bottom on my extremely hard prick. "The lady writes most explicitly, does she not? I am so pleased she enjoyed your fucking her bottom on the train to Cambridge for I cannot imagine you would both have found the act pleasurable had you taken her against her will."

"Yes, my darling, I did," I said, sliding my hand beneath Hetty's skirt to find, to my delight, that her cunt was bare and fully accessible. "And in full view of anyone waiting to board the train at the stations between King's Cross and Cambridge."

I entered her cunt with two fingers at the same moment as our lips met, Hetty's breath hot against my cheek. She responded by squirming the furrow of her bottom along the length of my rampant cock and I knew I had to have her then and there as, I'm sure, did she.

For several minutes I masturbated Hetty, stroking my thumb against the stiff bud of her clit standing proud of its hood. Hetty sighed with delight, grinding her ass against my cock, her tongue intertwining with mine. Then I slid my other hand under her skirt but this time to cup her delectable bottom, my long middle finger finding the opening of her asshole, sliding inside easily because of the substantial amount of spunk I had pumped into her bowels the night before. Hetty has the most beautiful, fuckable ass in the world and I delight in it but, as my fingers worked in her twin holes, my mind was filled equally with the vision of loveliness that was Adele Garforth's voluptuous backside, filled to capacity with my hard prick rutting deep within her bowels.

"Please Grandpapa, please," Hetty said in her most seductive little girl voice, knowing how much it excited me. "I long to feel your wonderful prick deep in my bottom again. You know I am insatiable when it comes to the delightful rectal orgasms you give me when you spurt your cum into my tight little asshole..."

"Then raise up, my sweetheart," I said, my voice thick with lust.

Hetty did as instructed, taking the material of her skirt in her hands to bare her pretty slit and the curvy rondures of her beautiful bottom. Droplets of cream bedewed the insides of her thighs and I had only to unbutton my breeches, bare my prick and take it in my hand, holding it upright for her to position her bumhole over the swollen tip and then lower herself, to our exquisite mutual delight, until she had enveloped the entire pole with her back passage, my balls resting against the slippery lips of her cunt.

My glans buried deep within her bowels, delightfully lubricated by the huge quantity of sperm I had deposited in her colon the night before, I had no need to move my hips for Hetty could raise and lower herself as she desired to create an exquisite friction along the shaft of my prick, squeezing its length with the velvet tightness of her rectal walls, milking my sperm inexorably from my overfull balls however hard I tried to hold off my impending orgasm.

Quickly she unbuttoned the front of her dress to bare her breasts.

"Suck and bite my nipples, Grandpapa," she urged although I needed no encouragement or instruction, my mouth opening to envelop as much of the soft ripeness of her breasts and their hard tips as I could, closing my teeth on the tiny buds to heighten my granddaughter's pleasure.

I suckled, licked and bit her breasts and her sweet-tasting nipples, I thrust my hips up as she ground her hips downwards, my cock disappearing and reappearing within the depths of her asshole with every fervent thrust and plunge. I plowed her bottom relentlessly, seeking to bring about her orgasm at the same time as mine and knew I had achieved my aim when Hetty suddenly cried out in ecstasy, squirming her cunt against the base of my prick, her whole body shuddering and shaking with the intensity of her orgasm. I felt hot creamy liquid pour from her cunt onto my balls and I arched my back, groaning with utter delight as I poured out their contents into her bowels, bathing her insides with a massive quantity of my hot, gooey sperm.

For several long minutes Hetty rested her cheek against my head, her climax ebbing slowly as we both fought to regain our breathing while delightfully intermingling our sexual fluids. I adored the slipperiness of her cream bathing my balls just as I'm sure she could feel my spunk overflowing the junction of my shaft and her wide-stretched rosehole.

"Mmmm, that was a heavenly way to start the day, Grandpapa," she purred against my ear, her lips seeking mine in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Indeed it was, my pet," I said, reluctant to break off our union but aware Mrs. Ansell would be waiting outside with a hansom to chaperone my granddaughter to her morning's study.

Hetty raised herself off my still erect cock which slid from her ass with a wet slurping noise and reached down behind her to press a little lace handkerchief she kept up her sleeve past the gaping opening of her anal sphincter and into the first inch or so of her rectum. I knew it would suffice until she reached the Brompton Academy for Young Ladies and she could relieve herself in a water closet to expel the abundant evidence of my desire.

There was a twinkle in Hetty's eye as she skipped over to the door.

"Grandpapa...? If you agree to Mrs. Garforth's proposal, you could take us both to bed at the same time. Isn't that a delicious thought?"

And she gave a wicked little giggle and slipped away to meet the waiting Mrs. Ansell who would be completely oblivious to the fact that her pretty charge had just been thoroughly well fucked in her beautiful pert bottom.

Taking a deep breath to recover, my prick still exposed in anticipation of satisfying myself manually within the next few moments, I reached into my desk for paper. I pondered what I wanted to say and then wrote the following:

My Dear Mrs. Garforth -

Thank you for your letter which, as you can see, I received forwarded from Scotland Yard. I should add, as I did not when we met, that this is a considerable kindness on their part as I am now retired from the Criminal Investigation Department although, as you are aware from our recent encounter, I still maintain more than a passing interest in the investigation of crime in the metropolis.

As you requested, and in light of the urgency of your circumstances, I am replying immediately to say that I have no need of a mistress. However I would urge you not to be disheartened by this statement as I have a proposal to put to you.

You wrote to me with pleasing explicitness and I shall do the same to you. Due to the unfortunate demise of her parents my granddaughter Henrietta lives with me. While many may condemn the nature of our close and loving incestuous sexual relationship, I know she takes as much pleasure from our lovemaking sessions as I do. Hetty has no hesitation in making her mouth and asshole available to me whenever she or I wish, her cunt remaining inviolate for the pleasure of her future husband. She is the most enthusiastic recipient of my prick in her back passage and it might amuse you to know that she became as highly aroused as I did upon reading your delightful letter so that my shaft now carries upon it the pleasing scent of her rectum.

I am sure you are aware of the impact your beauty made on me, not least the immensity of your glorious breasts and the voluptuousness of your curvaceous derrière. You have a bottom worthy of worship at length and I can assure you that, had time permitted, I would have emptied my balls into its delightfully silken depths several times more. Surely, you must be thinking, I cannot therefore be indifferent to your suggestion that you become my mistress and, indeed, I am not. But I have a far more pressing need than to seek a mistress... a need that may still suit you when you learn the terms of my proposal.

I inherited the services of my housekeeper from my late Aunt Matilda, as indeed I did my house. In the same will my aunt made a provision for this lady to retire in order to live with her sister in Brighton and I know she has been waiting patiently for a suitable opportunity to achieve this aim while, at the same time, refusing to leave my employment until I have secured the services of someone suitable to replace her. For this reason, your statement that you are about to become destitute comes at a particularly opportune moment because, while I may have no need of a mistress, I have urgent need of a housekeeper and I am offering you that position.

To this end I propose the following.

Should you accept my proposal, I shall arrange with my bank to make the sum of fifty guineas available to you. With these funds you must settle any outstanding debts and inform your landlady you will be leaving your apartments the day following. Please then go to Joshua Taylor's department store and purchase dresses suitable for the summer months, assuring that I will provide further accoutrements for you when the seasons change. I will expect you to choose dresses that display your beautiful bosom to the best effect and can be worn without petticoats. The choice of underwear I leave to you but it should be silk and as minuscule as possible, serving only to cover the opening of your cunt should you so desire. If you really must wear something to support your bust I will arrange for you to visit Rigby & Pellier in Knightsbridge who are favored by Her Majesty the Queen. Please also purchase several pinafores that constitute no more than an easily untied ribbon round the neck and the minimum of material elsewhere because I shall desire you to be naked underneath when you wear one.

In return for agreeing to these terms you will have your own bedroom and parlor, furnished to your requirements, and your own key to the house to come and go as you please although, as I am sure you understand, this does not grant you license to form relationships with any other men. If you do so, our arrangement will terminate immediately. I will grant you a generous allowance more than adequate for your needs, not wages, and will, as you suggest, be delighted if you will act as my companion to the opera, theater, for dinner and to any social gatherings to which I am invited. The Lord Mayor's Ball takes place at the end of this month and I hope you will agree to my accompanying you to purchase a new evening gown for the occasion, something in deep purple or dark blue with a scandalously low décolletage would most suit your beauty and greatly please me as I am sure you understand. Should a suitable opportunity present itself, I would wish to bugger you whenever I so desired during the ball as, indeed, I would also wish to do during our visits to the theater, opera and so on.

We can discuss other details when you arrive. If you are minded to accept my proposal, and I feel sure you will agree that the terms I suggest are far from onerous, please send me a telegram to let me know which train to meet tomorrow or at the latest the day after. My desire for you, lust even, is simply too great for me to have to wait any longer than absolutely necessary to fuck you repeatedly in every hole.

With most sincere regards,

Frank Tench, Detective-Inspector (Retired.)

I blotted my letter, slid it into an envelope and then reached for Adele's letter intending to read it again only this time with my cock in my hand, stroking myself slowly to orgasm at the thought of her kneeling at my feet, her face upturned with delight as I spurted my sperm over the creamy slopes of her immense breasts.

*

In accordance with my instructions, Adele was not wearing black satin when I saw her walking down the platform toward me. In fact she was wearing a very chic skirt and a matching jacket over a white blouse beneath which, if my eyes did not deceive me, her breasts were unsupported from the way they jiggled and bounced with her every step. She turned heads effortlessly, men irritating their wives by staring openly, porters falling over themselves to assist her. When she reached me I could see her eyes were sparkling with happiness and she smiled, a soft smile that spoke volumes.

"Thank you for coming to meet me, Inspector," she said.

"Welcome, my dear Adele," I said, unsure whether to shake her hand, kiss her cheek or simply nod. I decided on the last but only because I was uncharacteristically tongue-tied in the face of her radiant beauty and extraordinary sexuality. She really was ravishingly beautiful, my prick almost painfully hard in anticipation of the sexual pleasures I intended we would shortly experience together.

"I have a hansom waiting," I said and reached to take the familiar carpet bag she was carrying, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"No crosses or wallets inside, I promise," she said with a pretty laugh. "My few valuables, mementos of Charley and - " she lowered her voice to a most seductive purr, " - the minuscule housekeeper's aprons you specified. Joshua Taylor had nothing suitable so I made them myself."

"Most enterprising," I said and grinned at her.

I handed her into the hansom while the driver retrieved her trunk. I gave the porter a shilling and he tipped his hat to Adele, an enraptured look on his face I knew I would have to grow used to because it mirrored the one on my own.

"Do you have this effect on every man you meet?" I asked, taking a seat opposite her in the cab as the driver shook the reins and his horse moved into the traffic thronging the station.

"Why, do I have that effect on you?" she asked, her eyebrow raised and I knew she was making fun of me.

"I let you go, didn't I?" I said, which was a little unkind and Adele turned her head and looked out of the window seemingly losing interest in the conversation.

But then she spoke, very quietly.

"I owe you a great debt," she said. "I feared to end up on the streets and Cambridge is no different from any other city at night, cold, lonely and dangerous for a woman on her own."

"I could not have reacted differently, Adele," I said. "I am 55, have never married nor have I ever wanted to. I have simply never met the right woman. But I understand that when someone puts out their hand in desperation and if it is in my power to take that hand in comfort then that is what I must do. Although, as you are quite aware," and I glanced openly at her prominent bosom, "in this case it is not solely out of Christian charity..."

She laughed. "Thank you," she said. And we sat in companiable silence until the cabbie pulled up outside my house.

"Be prepared," I said as I took her hand to help her down. "The second I open the door a female whirlwind will engulf you. I was in my granddaughter's bad books this morning when I insisted on going to the station alone to meet you. Henrietta is dying to meet a woman who writes so boldly about the many pleasures than can be experienced between consenting adults." And then I added, sotto voce, "And one young woman..."

Adele laughed and waited while I opened the door so the cabbie could carry her trunk inside the house. I tipped him and he touched his cap. "Thanks, Inspector," he said.

"Are you known to all the cabbies of London?" Adele asked, amused.

"Only those who are also my informants," I said. "I have a very useful network across the city."

"Ahh," she said. "I see now what you meant by being able to hunt me down."

I called out to my granddaughter and winced when there was a loud bang from upstairs. Footsteps echoed through the hallway as my beautiful minx, immaculately dressed, her blonde hair plaited in pigtails to make her look delightfully gamine, rushed down the stairs and then stopped abruptly.

"How do you do, Mrs. Garforth," Hetty said with a little curtsey. "It is such a pleasure to welcome you to our home." And she extended her hand to shake Adele's who simply ignored it and put her arms round Hetty and hugged her close, kissing my granddaughter firmly on the cheek which made her blush prettily. I rather envied Hetty that hug and particularly the sensation of being crushed up against Adele's glorious bosom.

"Now Hetty," I said with mock sternness which made both women turn and look at me. "Please remember Adele is our new housekeeper. So it would be completely inappropriate to leave her trunk in the hallway and take her for lunch at the Café Royale and then on to Battersea Pleasure Gardens for an afternoon of carousel riding, general merriment at the funfair and a walk through the Hall of Mirrors where even the prettiest granddaughters look like elephants..."

"Oh Grandpapa, YES PLEASE!" Hetty squealed and gave me an enormous hug. Then she dashed back upstairs to fetch her hat while I stood and watched Adele check her make-up in the hall mirror.

"Of course you planned this only for Hetty?" she said without looking at me.

"Oh, of course," I said, still doing my best to look stern.

Adele moved toward me and kissed me, very softly, on the cheek. Her perfume filled my nostrils and I now knew for a fact she was not wearing anything under her blouse.

"Thank you," she whispered. "It has been so long since I was able to do anything for fun."

*

It was almost 11pm when we all returned home. Hetty was having trouble staying awake in the cab, the pleasures and excitements of the afternoon, the wonder of being taken to Sadler's Wells to see Gilbert & Sullivan's operetta 'The Pirates of Penzance' and dinner at an Italian restaurant in Soho overwhelming her as a great deal to have seen and done in one day. She managed to show Adele up to her room but then excused herself to fall into bed, struggling against sleep when I went in to kiss her goodnight.

"Thank you, Grandpapa," she murmured as I kissed her gently on the lips.

"For the day?"

"And for Adele. I am sure I will never be lonely now."

"Were you before?" I asked, concerned.

"Sometimes. Mrs. Ansell doesn't really understand young women and their need to understand the world around them. It isn't easy for a girl with no parents, even when she has the most wonderful Grandpapa in the world."

"Then I'm glad Adele said yes to my proposal," I said, sliding my hand under the covers to cup Hetty's soft breast and stroke her nipple.

"Mmm, that feels nice," she purred and turned over to face me as she fell asleep.

I stood and saw Adele standing in the doorway, watching us. The expression on her face looked like envy.

I stood up and walked across to her, suddenly aware she had fully unbuttoned her blouse. The whole of her deep cleavage was displayed to my view and I wondered if she was trying to seduce me.

"Is your room satisfactory?" I asked, closing Hetty's door quietly behind me.

"It's wonderful, thank you," Adele said and smiled. "But then I would have been happy with a box bed in the kitchen."

"No," I said. "Unthinkable. As you said in your letter, you are an intelligent and cultured woman, used to certain standards. Hetty and I are delighted you have agreed to come and work for us and I want you to be comfortable in your new home." I smiled and added, "I'm sure Hetty is half in love with you already."

Adele's sad face showed she had not missed my use of the words 'work for us' instead of 'live with us' implying I did not regard her as our equal, which was assuredly not my intent.

"Inspector, please be assured that, while I greatly enjoyed today, from tomorrow morning I shall act in a manner becoming my role as your housekeeper," she said. She turned and put her hand on the door of her room, opening it. "But perhaps it had not occurred to you that not only young women need to experience affection?"

And she walked into her room and closed the door quietly behind her leaving me wondering why women believe sexual desire has to be accompanied by romantic attraction. Men do not feel the same way and I was frustrated and a little annoyed that Adele found it necessary to confuse the two on so short an acquaintance and when I had done all I could to rescue her from the desperate situation in which she found herself.

Sighing quietly, I made my way to my bedroom. I do not agree with the fashion for long nightshirts, preferring instead to wear only what is necessary to stay warm at night while leaving my lower body bare should Hetty join me in my bed. I knew she would not tonight, being too sound asleep after her exciting day, but found myself longing for the taste of Adele's voluptuous breasts, to lift her by the waist above me and then lower first one massive breast and then the other into my mouth, smothering myself with their perfumed softness. The thought aroused me so strongly I lay on my bed, my cock standing up strong, quivering with the intensity of my desire, slippery droplets of sperm oozing from the tip. I closed my fingers round my shaft and squeezed to make the liquid slide down its length, oiling my fingers as I started to stroke my shaft.

"Starting without me?" a soft voice said as Adele slipped into my room. She still wore her blouse, open to the waist, but nothing else. Her mons was perfectly smooth of hair, the slit so tiny as to be sweetly girlish putting me in mind of my darling granddaughter's tiny peach-like sex.

"I did not think you were coming," I said, which sounded peevish and I regretted it immediately.

"How little you know of women," she said which, to my shame, was nothing less than the truth.

She sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to replace my stroking hand with her own, her fingers cooler than mine and therefore more arousing as they closed round the shaft of my prick.

Her eyes met mine as she spoke.

"Frank, please try to understand. You have rescued me and I am profoundly grateful. But in having to accept your kindness I have sacrificed my independence. I have lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, my beloved son. I am sure it will not come as a surprise to you to learn that Charley and I have, had, an incestuous relationship similar in every respect to yours with Hetty.

"I adored it when I felt his strong young stallion cock pounding me into my mattress or pouring his semen into my suckling mouth and I mourn the loss of our intimacy. Even more I miss laying my head on his chest as we lay in happy satiation after our lovemaking, his hand softly stroking my hair, whispering how much he loved me until we both became aroused once more and I straddled myself over his upright prick to envelop him with my sperm-slick cunt, fucking myself on his pole until, once again, he emptied his balls into my body."

"Has he ever fucked your ass?"

"No," she said. "Only you and my husband have done that. And he did not do it as well or gave much as much pleasure as you did."

The combination of that statement and Adele's skilled fingers, not to mention the thought of her sitting astride her son, her huge breasts bouncing as he gripped her hips and thrust his cock repeatedly into the slippery depths of her cunt, brought me swiftly to climax as Adele could tell from my increasingly rapid breathing. I was about to moan out my delight and spurt my semen into the air when she quickly lowered her head and opened her mouth, her lips forming a perfect oval around the head of my cock, bathing it in saliva and delicious warmth which made it impossible for me to delay my orgasm a second longer. I arched my hips up, thrusting my prick to the back of Adele's throat and climaxed, my whole being wracked with ecstasy as I spurted jet after jet of my sperm down her gullet to pool in her belly. She swallowed all I had to give without hesitation, still sucking to heighten my pleasure and ensure she received every last drop.

At last she released my prick from the clasp of her lips and then leaned down to kiss me. I could taste and smell my ejaculate on her lips and found it extremely arousing but it had been a long day and I fought sleep with little resistance.

"Goodnight Frank... darling," Adele whispered in my ear and I felt her rise from the bed and the door close quietly behind her.

*

I was woken the next morning by the rich scent of pork roasting in preparation for luncheon and entered the kitchen hoping to be able to enjoy my breakfast and the Sunday newspapers before the whirlwind that is Hetty woke up. To my surprise I felt a surge of delight to find Adele standing at the range watching a pan of water reach the correct temperature before lowering an egg into it with others in a bowl at her elbow. Fresh toast was sitting on the table together with a pot of coffee. A rose from the garden stood in a miniature vase next to the butter and preserves.

"Good morning," she said with a bright smile and I felt the absurd urge to move close behind her, slip my arms round her waist, fill my hands to overflowing with her immense breasts and whisper in her ear, "It is now..." but instead I took my seat and reached for the coffeepot.

"I am sorry I left you unsatisfied last night, Adele," I said. "I greatly enjoyed what you kindly did to relieve the ache in my balls."

She laughed and said, "Rest assured I am as adept at satisfying myself as I am at pleasing you. I fell asleep with my fingers paddling between my cuntlips and some quite delicious visions playing in my head."

I was surprised to feel a sudden flare of jealousy as I wondered if she was thinking of her son or of me when she climaxed.

"Now, sir, or would you prefer I call you Inspector? One egg or two and do you prefer them firm or soft?" she asked, jiggling her breasts suggestively.

I roared with laughter.

"Adele, my dear, I am not 'Inspector' nor do I wish to be called 'sir'. It may not suit social convention but I am Frank and you are Adele, both in private and in public."

"Thank you," she said, pleased by my mark of respect. "Now, one or two and soft or firm?"

"Two, soft, would be perfect, please," I said and grinned at her, my cock hardening under my robe. "Very soft but still perfectly firm and quite delicious to the taste..."

"Goodness," she said, coloring prettily as she withdrew two eggs from the pan and slipped them into egg cups then placed them before me.

My granddaughter entered a minute or so later, yawning mightily, which I have always found charming. She usually wore only her peignoir, knowing the effect the almost transparent garment had on my prick, but this time she was wearing a silk robe tied at the waist hiding her delectable body from my hungry gaze. I suddenly realized I had not given any thought as to how my granddaughter and I were going to continue our incestuous relationship now that we were no longer alone in the house.

"Good morning, Adele," she said, walking over and giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek which Adele returned, glancing at me over Hetty's shoulder to see if I disapproved which, of course, I did not.

"Sit down my dear," Adele said. "Can I make you one egg or two?"

"Two please," Hetty said. "I'm hungry enough to eat a horse on toast..."

Adele laughed and I picked up the paper, scanning the headlines.

Her mouth full of toast, Hetty still managed to say, "Adele, do you go to church?"

"I used to," she said, glancing at me. "But I've rather got out of the habit." She served Hetty two eggs and then asked, "Why?"

"I just thought we could walk to the nice church on the corner. Grandpapa isn't very keen on churchgoing but I like to say my prayers and thank God for all the wonderful things that happen in my life and you coming to live with us is one of them."

"How very charming," Adele said. "If it suits your Grandpapa then I would love to go with you."

Breaking the top of an egg with a teaspoon, Hetty said, "On the way, will you tell me more about your son Charley? He sounds like ever such a nice young man and perfect for a young lady like me..."

She giggled as I peered quizzically at her over the edge of my paper.

"Oh he was - is," Adele said and I knew the thought of his living in Liverpool, a city he did not know, soon to embark for the United States, caused her great anguish.

"You know, it's long overdue since I went to church," I said. "If there is no objection I think I will join you ladies and then you can tell me about Charley as well. Especially about him and the gentleman in the bowler hat."

Adele looked like a rabbit caught in a poacher's snare.

"Of course," she said. "Excuse me, I must go and change."

And as she left the room I wondered if she did so voluntarily or fled in fear of my questioning.

*

Adele's prowess as a cook was amply proven by the superb lunch she prepared on our return from church. Afterward she and Hetty donned bonnets and coats to go walking on Hampstead Heath while I hailed a hansom.

"Where to, guv'nor?" the cabbie asked.

"Scotland Yard, please."

The benefit of going to the Yard on a Sunday is I can move about freely without being required to answer questions about why I was there and what I was investigating. On this visit I walked down the steps to the basement where the Criminal Records Department is based. An old friend and former colleague greeted me.

"Well, if it isn't a member of the haristocracy come to visit us lowly commoners," Inspector Tom Adams said with a broad grin, shaking my hand. "What can I do for you, my lord, now that you've taken early retirement on the grounds of extreme wealth? Short of a bob or two to buy another racehorse?"

"I bloody wish," I said with a laugh. "I'm here because I want to look at the photographs of known villains. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," Tom said and led me over to a table where a number of thick ledgers sat. "Take a seat."

I did and reached for the first collection. About fifteen minutes later I was looking at the face of a man I was sure was the one wearing the bowler hat.

"Tom, tell me about this fellow," I said and pointed.

"A nasty piece of work he is," Tom said, shaking his head and I had to agree with him. Without his bowler I could see the man's face clearly for the first time and especially the deep scar that ran from below his left eye to his jawline. Tom went on, "Name of Reggie Calhoun. He got that from tangling with the Chinese gangs in Limehouse, the bloody idiot. Nobody tangles with them and survives. We thought he'd been finished off a while ago when he was fished out of the Thames but the bugger was so drunk the alcohol must have stopped him from sinking. Which was a bloody shame."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"Try Limehouse. Apparently he figured if he couldn't beat the Chinks he should join them and they use him as an enforcer and let him do petty larceny and pickpocketing on the side."

"Tom, you're scholar and a gentleman," I said and stood up to leave. "Fancy coming round for dinner some time to meet my new housekeeper?"

"Gawd, why would I want to do that?" he said with a laugh. "She's probably 73 with a face like a prune..."

"She's 38, has the face and body of a goddess and cooks like an angel."

"You're on," Tom said with a laugh. "My missis is a good woman but her cooking is bloody awful... And she's become a supporter of the Temperance Union which is definitely grounds for divorce if I didn't love her so much."

"I'll be in touch," I said grinning and shook his hand.

And with that I left the building and walked out into the afternoon sunshine, a plan forming in my mind that would mean, for the first time in my life, that I was on the wrong side of the law. It was a frightening prospect but if it succeeded Adele would be secure for the rest of her life and her son could both join her in London and return to her bed. To which I had no objection as long as she shared it with me as well...

*

I let myself in the front door and walked through to my study to pour myself a large brandy. I was mulling over the prospect of entering the Limehouse district of London which no policeman would willingly do without being aware they are taking their life in their hands. Reggie Calhoun was a thorough villain and I suspected the only reason he had not put a bullet in my kidneys on the concourse of King's Cross station was because I agreed to do as he demanded speedily and discreetly. One whiff of resistance and I would have been a corpse.

I was about to call out to Adele and Hetty to see if they had returned from their walk when I heard the pleasant and highly arousing sound of my granddaughter crying out in ecstasy. I put my drink down and walked up the stairs, following the sounds to her open bedroom door while taking care to be as quiet as a cat stalking its prey.

Hetty was sprawled out on her bed, her dress open to the waist, her skirt pulled up round her waist. Adele was lying with her head between Hetty's legs, her blouse and skirt discarded leaving her wearing only stockings, suspenders and leather walking boots and I found myself wondering if Adele had left the door open deliberately, intending that I should discover them both in the throes of Sapphic lovemaking.

I cannot deny it had crossed my mind, when I replied to Adele's letter, to hope that she might be open to introducing Hetty to the pleasure of being made love to by another woman but this was surely more than I could have hoped for as Hetty bucked and shuddered, her hands clasping Adele's head to guide her where she wanted our housekeeper's avidly sucking mouth and tongue.

I could hear the soft sounds of Adele sucking and swallowing as she closed her lips round the bud of Hetty's clit then moved her mouth down to lick up and swallow the abundant cream pouring from my granddaughter's dripping cunt, delighting in pushing her tongue as far past the tight opening of Hetty's anal sphincter as she could before sliding back up to start the cycle again. I found the sight and sounds of their lovemaking so intensely arousing my prick threatened to burst from my pants it was that hard.

"Oh Adele," I heard Hetty moan, transported by pleasure, "I love you so much..."

I had to admit the speed with which she had fallen for Adele worried me if her feelings were not reciprocated but I was assured when Adele lifted her head so her eyes could meet those of Hetty as she said, "And I love you, too, my sweet flower. You are the beautiful daughter I never had."

"That's so naughty!" Hetty said with a little giggle. "You shouldn't be licking your own daughter's pussy so greedily..."

"How can I resist when it tastes like the sweetest honey?" and Hetty let out a throaty moan as Adele slid her first finger as far inside my granddaughter's cunt as she could without breaking Hetty's hymen but, at the time, thrust her middle finger deep into the tight opening of Hetty's asshole. Hetty squealed with pleasure, her head thrashing from side to side as another climax exploded deep within her body, the results of which Adele sucked down as Hetty's thick cream flowed into her suckling mouth.

If I had worried this was a seduction from which I was excluded Adele put my mind at rest. She turned her head, her eyes hooded with lust, her mouth and cheeks smeared with my granddaughter's creamy essence, and her gaze met mine.

"Are you just going to stand and watch, Frank? Because I need to be fucked extremely hard while your darling granddaughter and I take our pleasure with each other and she has already aroused me to orgasm from suckling my breasts while we sat on a bench in the park which was both completely scandalous and wildly arousing. It appears she likes my bosom every bit as much as you do..."

"I adore them, Grandpapa!" Hetty squealed. "They are so soft and warm and fragrant and sucking them makes me so wet in my pussy all Adele had to do was give my clit the gentlest stroke and I screamed in ecstasy! I could see passing nannies and gentlemen on horseback watching me have an enormous orgasm and that just made it even more wildly exciting!"

"You'll be lucky if you don't get arrested, minx," I said, entering the room and opening a drawer in the table by the bed on which Hetty's night lamp stood. I kept a tube of lubricant in there for when I wanted to fuck her pretty bottom but it was not Hetty's asshole I intended to plunder but the much larger and plumper bottom so enticingly presented by the black suspenders Adele was wearing.

While Adele resumed the movements of her tongue over Hetty's clit, gentler now and more sensually rather than greedily, I moved to the foot of the bed and quickly stripped off my jacket and pants. Then I climbed on the bed, straddling Adele's legs until my head was level with the cheeks of her ass. I heard her sigh with delight as I pulled them open, displaying the opening of her cunt, her labia sticky with her oozing cream, her tiny rosehole winking in anticipation of being breached because that was what I was about to do.

Adele let out a little squeal as I squeezed cool lubricant directly onto her anus and then used my fingers to work it as far as I could reach into her asshole. While I was doing this I watched Adele withdraw her fingers from Hetty's cunt and anus and stretch her hands up so she could use one to cup Hetty's breast and stroke her nipple at the same time as the other went into Hetty's mouth which she sucked avidly, obviously enjoying the taste and scent of her own back passage.

A moment more to spread a large dollop of lube along the length of my prick and I slid my hands under Adele's hips, urging her to arch her back up so her bottom was presented to me. She did and I curled my fingers round my shaft, positioning the swollen tip of my glans against her anal sphincter. I pressed and the muscle gave way, allowing me entry, and I groaned aloud as inch after inch disappeared into the exquisitely tight heat of Adele's rectum until my balls caressed the wet lips of her cunt, the shaft of my prick sliding in her ass until my glans entered her bowels. I groaned with intense pleasure while Adele let out a whimpering moan of ecstasy but it was only as a prelude to her lowering her hips to slide her rectal walls along the shaft of my cock and then slamming her buttocks back into my groin, effectively fucking her ass onto my rampant pole.

The three of us became lost in the delirium of our enthusiastic lovemaking, interlinked in our desperate quest for sexual release. Hetty writhed under Adele's skilled lapping and sucking, grinding her clit against Adele's mouth as she climaxed repeatedly. Adele's head moved constantly, swallowing the honeyed effusion of Hetty's orgasmic spasms, her tongue hungry for more. Slowly at first and then harder and deeper as Adele's back passage became used to my assault I fucked her ass in the way only a mature woman can withstand, my groin thudding against Adele's upturned buttocks making them quiver as I repeatedly thrust my cock into the depths of her asshole, preparing to flood her back passage with my hot, creamy semen.

And then it happened. Hetty screamed and bucked, her whole body writhing as she came. Adele cried out as she too climaxed and I shouted out my delight as I emptied my balls into her rectum, waves of searing delight flooding my senses. I felt as if my entire being was concentrated on my spurting prick and I never wanted the moment to end, so intimate and thrilling did I find our conjoined lovemaking.

But eventually my orgasm ebbed and I lifted myself off Adele, bending to kiss her in gratitude for the pleasure she had given me, savoring the taste of Hetty's cream smeared across her mouth and cheeks. To Adele's surprise Hetty squirmed out from beneath her and took my place between the furrow of her buttocks, Adele's anus now leaking an ooze of my thick white ejaculate. Greedily Hetty applied her mouth and licked and sucked out my sperm, making Adele shudder with delight, my granddaughter's tongue relentlessly seeking every last morsel of my spend, flavored and scented from having been deposited deep within Adele's bowels. I stood and shook my head in mock disapproval, laughing softly as I told Hetty what a completely depraved minx she was to take advantage of poor, exhausted Adele.

Hetty only raised her head and grinned at me while Adele said in a voice which betrayed her complete sexual satisfaction, "I am thoroughly scandalized. Both of you are completely depraved."

To which Hetty's response, before she went back to delightedly licking and lapping her tongue into Adele's gaping sphincter, was, "What can I say? I learned from a master," and all three of us burst into laughter.

Chapter Three

It was greatly to be regretted that Hetty walked into the kitchen when, early the following evening, Adele and I were in the middle of a serious disagreement with raised voices on both sides.

"Grandpapa!" she cried, her voice shaking with emotion. "You cannot be angry with Adele - you must not!" She looked with confusion at what Adele was wearing. "And why do you have that awful dress on? Are you leaving us?"

"Sweetheart - " I started to say and Hetty must have assumed I was going to brush off her concern and distress because she ran from the room, sobbing loudly.

"I will go to her and explain," Adele said and rushed after Hetty.

I sat, bemused and angry, wondering how a plan intended to put an end once and for all to Adele's insecurity about her future and that of her son Charley could have gone so terribly wrong.

My intention was that she should be able to write and tell her son to catch a train to London, safe in the knowledge he would neither have to flee to America nor face the gallows for what he believed he had done. Charley was surely not aware he had failed in his attempt to deal with The Man in the Bowler Hat and it was left to me to finish what had been started when I apprehended Adele as she sought to flee the scene of the crime she, Charley and Reggie Calhoun had taken part in at King's Cross station.

I had decided to make my way to Limehouse where my friend at Scotland Yard, Tom Adams, had told me Calhoun was now working as an enforcer for the leader of the Chinese Tong known as The Circling Hand, Cheun Fatt Moi. Moi was an evil man, believed to be responsible for opium smuggling, prostitution and the murder of rival gang members, none of which could be proved because any witnesses to his crimes were too terrified to talk to the police. Going anywhere near the territory Moi was rumored to control was considered too dangerous unless absolutely necessary and I was now intending not only to find but deal with Calhoun so that he could no longer threaten Adele, Charley or, indeed, anyone else. My scheme, such as it was, was fraught with danger and the last thing I wanted was to be concerned for anyone else while I was operating: a view not shared by Adele.

I had explained my plan to her that morning when she returned from chaperoning Hetty to the Brompton Academy for Young Ladies, telling her I intended to act that night. I had no choice but to take Adele into my confidence because, if anything happened to me, I would need her to be responsible for my financial affairs to provide for Hetty and herself. There was no time to alter my will in her favor but I believed what I had arranged would be sufficient.

Adele listened carefully but then excused herself saying there was someone she had to see. I made no objection, knowing she would be sure to collect Hetty from the Academy at the end of the day. While she was away I wrote a brief letter to Tom Adams explaining what I intended to do and asking if he would watch over Hetty when Adele and I paused at his house on our journey to Limehouse. I was well aware that if I suggested in the letter I intended to undertake criminal activity he would be under an obligation to inform his superiors and I had to ensure that would not happen. I therefore arranged for a special messenger to take the letter to his house rather than the Yard so he would not see it until he finished work for the day, by which time Adele, Hetty and I would already be on our way. The strength of our friendship reassured me he would not turn down my request.

When Adele returned with Hetty she prepared dinner for the three of us but then, when I went upstairs to change into the suit of clothes I had chosen to disguise myself while on my mission, she had also changed and confronted me when I walked into the kitchen to bid her farewell.

She was wearing a tattered coat and beneath it an even more shabby dress that barely covered her sumptuous breasts. The neckline descended to her nipples and she found it necessary to keep pulling it up to avoid baring them completely to my confused gaze.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked.

"Because I cannot allow you to go alone," she said, her eyes flashing with defiant determination.

"You surely can't mean to go with me," I said, anger in my voice. "It is too dangerous and I won't be able to protect you without revealing myself."

"Frank Tench, it may surprise you to know that I once had to frequent places such as you intend to go and fend for myself, and I did it without hope that one day I would have the opportunity to escape such misery. I allowed my breasts, cunt and ass to be pawed by men who considered me to be little better than a whore and I did it by cunning and hiding my fear. The very last thing I would want is to ever experience that again but I will not agree with you undertaking this mission alone when I can carry a gun beneath my skirts and slide a knife into my boot. You need me as bait for Calhoun."

"But what if he attacks you for failing in your theft of the cross?" I raged, knowing that every word she said made sense.

"Then he does," she said in an emotionless voice. "But you will inform him that you 'dealt' with me and that I am now under your control as attested to by the bruise on my face."

I stared at her. "What bruise?"

"The one you must create now by slapping me as hard as you can."

"I cannot," I said turning away. "Hitting you is impossible." I flatter myself I am not a lightweight, having spent many years in the boxing ring at Scotland Yard both for exercise and to ensure I can match whatever a villain might try to do in order to escape. I can bring a man down with one punch and I was extremely concerned any blow I gave Adele could cause considerable damage.

It was as I said this that Hetty entered the kitchen and misunderstood my intent and rushed out, Adele following her in an attempt to explain.

When she returned Adele gave me a tremulous smile and said Hetty understood better what I was intending to do and now understood why Adele had to join me. Even though Hetty would be safe in the care of Tom and Elizabeth Adams I doubted my poor granddaughter would sleep well knowing the two people she loved most in the world were endangering their lives by undertaking such a perilous mission.

"Come, Frank, it's time to go," Adele said and she stood resolute before me.

My eyes met hers and I knew there was no point in further argument. My hand lashed out and the blow I gave her knocked her to the floor. She did her best to recover but I could see she was close to fainting as I helped her to her feet.

"You are a brave woman," I said, ashamed of the livid red mark Adele now carried across the left-hand side of her face. "Tuck your breasts back in and I will hail a hansom. We will have to walk the last half a mile or so."

"Yes, Frank," she said, and bowed her head, something dark and lost in her eyes as she followed me out into the night.

*

Our journey to Limehouse, once we had left Hetty in the care of Tom and his wife Elizabeth, was slow, the hansom having to navigate throngs of theatergoers, diners and pleasure-seekers looking for cabs. I could foresee a time when it would be impossible to get across the city without being caught up in an even greater mass of humanity, aware that would be the price that would have to be paid as the City of London expanded and the population, both business and residential, grew. I was sure there would be no shortage of work for my colleagues at Scotland Yard in the years to come.

Adele was quiet, looking out of the window. I knew her face had to be throbbing with pain and I felt deeply sorry I had no choice but to accept the truth of her argument. It would have made Calhoun deeply suspicious if she had accompanied me looking poised and beautiful.

"Hetty has asked if she might start calling me Mama," Adele said in a quiet, almost formal voice. "I said yes, I would like that very much. That is if you have no objection."

"Of course. I would like that," I said. "I know how much she misses her mother and you have taken her place in the best possible way. I believe Hetty loves you and I want what makes her happy in the hope it makes you happy too."

"Thank you, Frank," she said, turning to me for the first time. "Whatever happens, I want you to know how grateful I am for this opportunity to turn my life around, to experience security, happiness and love for the first time, something I never had with my husband. I was able to give Charley my unconditional loving but little else and I often grieve that was the case."

"I'm sure he knew you did your best," I said, knowing how difficult it was for her to be separated from the young man who would always be her beloved son, in her bed and out.

Adele was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You are as tense as an archer's bow, Frank. Can you not relax even a little? The man we are going to deal with will sense your unease and anxiety for me."

"I wish I could, Adele," I said truthfully. "But I believe Calhoun will not hesitate to kill us both and I have to outwit him in order to ensure our survival."

"Then I must take your mind off what we face, if only for a few precious moments," she said, and she hooked her fingers in the already low neckline of her dress and bared her glorious breasts, taking pleasure in my intake of breath I was so enraptured with their weight and full firmness.

"You are so beautiful," I said and bent my head, opening my lips to suck a nipple into my mouth. Adele let out a soft sigh of pleasure from above me and I closed my teeth round the taut tip, biting into it without force to heighten her arousal. She responded by sliding her hand into my lap where she could feel the rigidity of my prick, trapped along my thigh by the tightness of my pants.

"Oh your poor rod needs to be freed," she purred as I moved from suckling one of her breasts to the other, filling my senses with the scent and taste of their perfect, creamy-white soft flesh. I was like a babe, so eager to suckle I would happily have spent an eternity worshipping the voluptuousness of her bosom.

But then she took charge and pushed me back gently so she could unbutton my pants, allowing my cock to rear up free. She let out a sigh of delight at the sight and lowered her head into my lap, her lips enveloping the head and sliding down the shaft until her nose was buried in my balls, something no other woman I have made love to was able to do.

I luxuriated in the exquisite pressure of Adele's ovaled lips round the base of my cock, unhurriedly bobbing her head up and down as she alternated long, drawing sucks with feather-light licks and gentle sips, swallowing the abundant creamy liquid that streamed from the head in response to her expertise. Her oral lovemaking was so intensely pleasurable I hoped we were still some way from our destination but I was wrong, the cab started to slow and then drew up where I requested.

Adele continued her sucking as the cabbie called out, "We're there, guv," to which I called out, my voice unsteady because I could feel my climax imminent, "Just a moment!"

I arched my hips up as Adele clamped her lips round the base of my prick, a deluge of my sperm bursting into her mouth forcing her to swallow repeatedly. Time and again I spurted until there was no more and she sat up, releasing my spent shaft from between her lips, a sweet smile on her face as she tucked her breasts back into her bodice.

"Took your time there, guv'nor," the cabbie said with a sly grin as we alighted. I could hardly blame him: his eyes had been out on stalks when he first saw the size of Adele's sumptuous bosom.

"What can I say," I said and grinned at him. "I'm a weak man..." and he laughed at Adele's cheeky smile as I handed him the fare and a generous tip.

*

The street ahead of us was deserted, only one streetlamp lit.

"Pull your cloak around you," I said. "I don't want us to attract unwelcome attention."

Adele responded by pulling me into a dark doorway, twining her arms about my neck.

"Is that what I am, Frank? 'Your dear' and nothing more?"

I looked into her eyes. If she did not know what was in my heart I was not going to spell it out for her.

"Ahh," she said with quiet satisfaction. "It is not only Hetty who loves me, then?"

"No, not only Hetty," I said quietly.

"But not for my body alone?"

I thrust my hand into her hair and gripped her head, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that expressed far more than I needed to say. A moment later Adele was breathless, smiling with delight as I released her. But then I murmured, "Time to go," and the smile disappeared. She fell into place at my side as we walked into Limehouse and the danger that lay ahead.

*

We walked on in silence, wary, knowing we had about half a mile to go before we were in Cheun Fatt Moi's territory. We passed a seedy-looking public house much in need of repair called 'The Dog and Duck' and Adele grabbed my arm.

"While you look like the kind of sottish ruffian I might be attracted to, you don't smell like one," she said, and I followed her into the Public Bar. The woman behind the bar, who I assume was the landlady, wrinkled her nose in distaste when she saw how much of Adele's glorious bosom was on display and Adele proved what a capable actress she was by saying loudly, "Whoops, falling out," and pulled her bodice up, an impossible task considering the amount of bosom the material failed to cover. "A gin for me and two whiskies for my guv'nor," she said in a passable East End accent.

The landlady poured the drinks as instructed and I waited until she moved away to serve someone else.

"Dutch courage?" I said, downing the drink, the strong spirit burning its way down my throat.

"You might not need it but I do," Adele said and she knocked her gin back without hesitation.

"Not sure I should drink two," I whispered.

"Oh it's not for drinking," she said and threw it in my face.

"That's enough of that!" the landlady shouted. "Out! Both of you, and don't come back!"

I wiped my hand down my face and did my best not to burst out laughing as Adele and I rushed out, both of us highly amused we were forbidden from returning to such a delightful establishment...

Ten minutes later we approached the gambling den Cheun Fatt Moi used as the headquarters of his criminal enterprises. There was a bald-headed muscular giant of a Chinese man guarding the door and I strode up to him, dragging Adele by the arm behind me.

"Let us in then, mate," I said.

"Not her," he grunted.

"She's my good luck charm," I said, putting my arm round Adele's neck and pulling her toward me which made her massive breasts wobble enticingly. I opened my jacket to show the Chinese giant the wad of banknotes I had placed in my inside pocket and he nodded. If he had ran his hands over me to check for weapons he would have found the pistol tucked into the back of my pants but I knew he would not: he would have been surprised if I was not carrying a means of defending myself in the event of trouble because everyone who entered such establishments was armed in one way or another.

Adele followed me up a flight of stairs and into a smoke-filled room packed full of men sitting at tables playing cards. Money was piled up in the center of each table and women circulated carrying trays of drinks for the gamblers. Occasionally a woman would be grabbed by a leering man who ran his hand under her skirt, withdrawing it to lick her cunt cream off his fingers before going on playing.

I could see Cheun Fatt Moi sitting at a table with two Europeans and several Chinese men, their bare skulls, faces and hands covered in tattoos and one of them half-blinded by a razor scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw. I suspected the Europeans were high rollers, able to play for the big stakes Moi would take for granted; the Chinese gamblers members of his gang. Adele dug her elbow into my side and nodded her head toward the bar. A man was sitting on a stool, a bowler hat on his head pulled down low over his face. He was drinking a colorless liquid from a small porcelain bottle which I was surprised to recognize as the Japanese rice wine, saké. I did not expect Calhoun to have such a refined taste and the knowledge warned me to be extremely careful.

Adele stayed quiet as I walked across. Calhoun sensed our presence and turned.

"Well, if it isn't that bitch Adele Garforth, as I live and breathe," he said, his gaze moving from her face down to her cleavage. "Still got your enormous bubbies, I see. No-one's seen fit to cut one of them off..."

"Reggie, this is Jack Stanmore," she said. "He's a copper."

"Bloody fucking hell," Calhoun exploded. "You've got some nerve coming in here, Stanmore."

Adele placed her hand on his arm to mollify him. "He's brought you something," she said. "To pay off my debt so we can catch a steamer for America together and start a new life."

"How touching," Calhoun turned to me. "And what is it you think this worthless whore is worth then, copper?"

I opened the front of my jacket again but this time the other side. Even in the dim light above the bar Calhoun could see the glint of the Saxon cross.

"Detective-Inspector Frank Tench lodged it in evidence at Scotland Yard," I said. "His report said he apprehended the gang who stole it but the woman gave him the slip. The woman was Adele and Tench knocked her about and fucked her in the ass before he let her go, the dirty bastard."

"Surprised you didn't enjoy it, Adele," Calhoun said with an unpleasant laugh and Adele turned away from his leering gaze.

Calhoun paused and then said, "That was a month ago. Where did that little shiner come from?" he said, indicating the emerging bruise on Adele's face and I knew, once again, it would not do to underestimate his cunning.

"Jack wanted to fuck my asshole too," she said. "I said no but he did it anyway."

"I can see why," Calhoun said with a laugh. "She's got a lovely big ass although I've not had the privilege myself..."

"And you won't either," Adele said, playing up to him and giving me the opportunity to step in.

"I stole the cross from the evidence box so when they discover it was me I'll be on the run," I said, a note of desperation in my voice which made Calhoun's ears twitch. I nodded my head toward the Chinese gangster. "I want to sell it to Cheun Fatt Moi."

I saw a look of animal calculation appear on Calhoun's face.

"Let's step outside and talk about how much you want for it," he said. "Then I'll put your proposition to Moi and you and Adele can take ship to America, the land of the free. How about that?"

"Alright," I said, and Calhoun climbed off his stool and made his way to the door. I glanced back at Adele and saw she had locked eyes with Moi who paused in his playing to watch us leave.

Adele and I followed Calhoun a few paces down the street away from the Chinese man guarding the door. He turned and I saw he was holding a six-inch knife he must have had up his sleeve. Like a snake striking he reached out and grabbed Adele, turning her to face me, one arm round her neck holding her close to his body, the other holding the knife to the side of her breast which he had pulled free of her bodice.

"The cross is mine," he said in a cold voice. "I stole it with this stupid bitch's help and, while I'm grateful you've liberated it from Scotland Yard, it's mine to fence and mine alone, nothing to do with Moi. Understood? I've a mind to shove this knife into Adele's big soft bosom so she bleeds out all over the floor while you watch and then do the same to you. How does that strike you, copper?"

"Reggie, he has money," Adele begged. "In his top pocket. I stole it for him so we could get into Moi's. Please, take it and the cross and let us go."

Reggie laughed, a low, evil sound.

"Well, fuck me, you're in love with him, ain't you, sweetie? You must enjoy the way the copper slavers all over you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he fucks his cock into your big bum?"

"It's not like that, Reggie," Adele said, a sob in her voice. "He loves me."

"Yes. I do," I said and I was not acting as my eyes met Adele's.

"Enough bloody talk," Reggie said. "Hand the cross over."

"If I do that you could kill us both," I said, vowing to myself that if Calhoun harmed Adele he would die, slowly and painfully.

"It's a risk you'll have to take and my patience is wearing thin, copper," Reggie said and he pushed the tip of the blade against Adele's breast so a drop of blood appeared.

"Alright," I said, hoping either Adele or I would be able to distract Calhoun long enough for me to draw my revolver. If I failed there was no telling what he would do.

Slowly and carefully I took the cross out of my jacket pocket and held it out to him. I wanted him to reach for it but he did not.

"Take the cross from the nice man," Calhoun said to Adele, his grip on her throat if anything even tighter.

Adele did as instructed and slid it in the inside pocket of Calhoun's jacket.

"And his gambling money," he said.

"Reggie, we need - " she started to protest and then choked as Calhoun nearly broke her neck.

"To sail to America to start a new life, you said. Such a shame that won't be possible. Figure I'll give the cross to Fatt Moi, keep the cash for myself, take you upstairs my dear for a very thorough fucking and lover boy can scuttle off sharpish or risk my knife across his throat. Sounds like a good deal all round, wouldn't you say? If he covers his tracks at the Yard he might even be able to go back to work catching criminals and low-lifes like me. Isn't that right, Jack?"

Still holding Adele by the throat, Calhoun started walking backwards toward Moi's. There was no way I could draw a weapon without him thrusting his knife into her body and I tasted the bitterness of defeat, knowing that once he was inside he would be, to all intents and purposes, beyond the reach of myself or Scotland Yard.

And then something I had not foreseen happened.

Calhoun's head and arms jerked in spasm and he let go of Adele, sliding slowly to the ground, his knife still in his hand. Adele ran over and hugged me before turning to see the Chinese giant standing over Reggie who might have been alive or dead, given the force of the blow to his neck. Cheun Fatt Moi was standing behind to the giant, a cigarette in his fingers.

"Inspector Adams presents his compliments, Detective-Inspector," Moi said. "Reggie has outlived his usefulness and killing a senior policeman is very bad for business." He paused for a moment to flick away his cigarette. "The shrewd businessman knows who his friends and enemies are. You are not a friend but now you are not an enemy, either."

I knew enough about the Chinese concept of face to know that I owed Moi for Adele's life and probably my own as well. I nodded my head. "Thank you," I said.

"You are welcome," Moi said and he said something to the Chinese giant who bent and picked Reggie up and dragged him into an alleyway which I knew led to the river. Unlike before, I doubted this time the unconscious Reggie would survive his fall into the Thames.

*

Hetty squealed and cried and hugged and kissed Adele and I excitedly when we collected her from Tom's house on our way home. Both of us kissed and hugged her back at the same time, knowing how much of an ordeal she must have been through in not knowing if we were safe and fearing she would spend the rest of her life as an orphan, albeit a wealthy one.

I thanked Elizabeth warmly and then stood for a moment looking into Tom's face as I shook his hand, the strength of my grip showing how grateful I was for his intervention. Whatever concern I felt that Tom might now be in debt to Moi I did not let show. I had always known Tom as an honest man and I assumed he was playing a long game intended, when the time was right, to ensnare both Moi and those who did his bidding. And, after all, I was supposed to be retired so crime in the metropolis was no longer my day-to-day concern.

"I need a bath," Adele said as soon as I closed the front door of our house and Hetty squeezed her so hard Adele's breasts finally popped free of the dress.

"I'll run it for you, Mama," she said, and gave Adele a soft, sensual kiss. "And wash your back too," she added, turning to me with a sly little grin.

"Don't use all the hot water," I said and went to put back the money I had taken from my safe, together with the cross which I intended to keep as a souvenir of the night's events.

I sat at my desk and spent a half hour making notes for this account while the events of the evening were still fresh in my mind. Then I walked upstairs to the bathroom which had been left neat and tidy with no evidence of what I hoped was some highly erotic backwashing by my granddaughter on the woman who was now, to all intents and purposes, her adopted mother. As I refreshed the tub I felt a broad grin growing on my face, reliving the time with Adele in the cab and what I had admitted to her in the darkened doorway. I was as completely sure of my love for her now that we were out of danger as I was when we were.

The doors to Hetty's and Adele's bedrooms were closed when I emerged naked from the bathroom, reaching into the linen cupboard for a fresh nightshirt. I assumed my two ladies were entwined in each other's arms, their mouths meeting in hungry kisses as they ground their clits together and I experienced a vague feeling of being left out although I could never begrudge Hetty the female affection she had so longed for since her mother died. Adele was a permanent part of her life now and, in the morning, I intended to instruct Adele to write to her son telling him what had happened, letting him know he was innocent of the crime he believed he had committed, and providing funds for him to return to London. It occurred to me that no-one makes a better policeman than someone who was once a petty criminal and I resolved to write to Tom to arrange a job interview if Charley was interested in joining the force.

Lost in thought about these happy possibilities, I entered my bedroom and closed the door, turning to find a vision that made me think I had died and gone to heaven.

I know enough about women to understand they are often self-conscious about the size of their bottoms, particularly if the only apt description is 'big'. For me, big simply means curvy, plump, voluptuous, deeply attractive, the erotic flashpoint to my libido which means my arousal can only be satisfied by fucking my cock into the tiny rosehole nestled between the luxuriant rondures of a sumptuous female ass. And that was what I was faced with now because there appeared to be a housemaid in my room turning down the coverlet of my bed, one who was wearing a tiny apron and absolutely nothing beneath it.

"Oh. My. God, Adele," I breathed, lost in wonder at her glorious breasts barely covered by the scrap of starched white cotton fabric, the way her magnificent naked bottom curved out from her hips, the way the cheeks of her ass bounced as she made a point of skipping round my bed so I could see them jiggle and bounce.

"I'm so sorry, master," she purred. "I had intended to finish tidying before you returned home. Please, feel free to punish me for my negligence and tardiness should you so wish in any way you think fit?" She stood with one enormous breast having burst free from its confinement, the soft globe rising and falling in her arousal, holding out to me the feather duster she had been holding which I saw had a handle made of bamboo cane.

"I will not need that, thank you, Adele," I said and I saw a look of disappointment cross her face at my lack of boldness or, perhaps, my failing to share an interest in something she found particularly arousing. But I have never taken pleasure in giving or receiving pain, not even with a woman as beautiful and desirable as Adele indicating by her look that she would greatly enjoy it.

"I will, however, need to administer my hand to your capacious backside in a series of slaps," I said sternly. "So you had better brace yourself and be willing to lie across my lap so that I might see the chastising effect my spanking you has on your behavior."

"Of course, master," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement before she looked down meekly, trying not to stare as I stripped off my nightshirt and displayed my cock jutting from my groin, hard as an iron bar, my pendant balls full to bursting once more despite the thoroughness of the sucking she had given me in the hansom cab on our way to Limehouse.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here, Adele," I instructed her. "Stand in front of me."

She did and I reached up and hooked my fingers into the sides of her apron, drawing the material into her capacious cleavage. Baring both her magnificent breasts had the effect of arousing me so intensely I was afraid I would ejaculate without even touching myself but I managed to find a distraction by sliding my hands round her hips and drawing her toward me so my mouth was filled to overflowing with soft, perfumed breastflesh and hard nipples, first one and then the other.

I could have suckled her like this all night but I wanted more.

"Do it for yourself," I said, cupping a huge globe and lifting it toward her lips and she let out a soft squeal of delight, obviously never having realized something so erotic was possible.

Adele took hold of one of her breasts and brought it to her mouth, opening her lips and closing her teeth on the tiny pink bud. At the same time I opened my mouth and did the same to a different tiny pink bud, the one standing proud of its hood at the apex of her cunt. I licked my tongue over the sensitive nodule, making her moan while she suckled her own breasts, my mouth filling with the most delicious, honeyed cream fresh from the depths of her pussy with more flowing into my mouth the moment I swallowed. This might well have been enough to bring her to orgasm but my fingers were as busy as my lips and tongue and I slid one from each hand past the tight muscle of her anus and as far as I could get them into her rectum, working it open. The sensation of having her tiny anus stretched wide made Adele's whole body tremble as she climaxed, a further flood of her delicious cream pouring into my mouth.

She might have thought I had forgotten about my intention to punish her but I had not. Withdrawing my fingers and my face from between her legs I made her squeal in surprise when I grabbed her hips and sprawled her across my lap, not an arduous process when her body is delightfully petite except for her breasts and bottom. Before she could react I raised my hand and landed my open palm on a quivering asscheek, making it wobble and bounce. I then did the same to the other, raising and lowering my hand in loud, firm slaps until I judged she was ready for another orgasm. I then forced open her legs and jammed as many fingers as possible from my right hand into her cunt while fondling her hanging breast with my left. Adele bucked and spasmed and, to my amazement, squirted a stream of colorless fluid from her cunt several feet across my bedroom. She had warned me in her letter she could do this but it was still intensely arousing to witness.

Because she was two orgasms ahead of me, I sensed Adele wanted time to recover but I was having none of it. My cock was rampant and I desired the tightest hole in her body to fill with my sperm, experiencing once more the utter ecstasy that resulted from fucking her rosehole. Poor Adele, she must have realized by now her pussy would always come second best but she still had no hesitation in wriggling off my lap and spreading herself out face-down on the bed, gripping the coverlet in one hand while furiously frigging herself between her legs, turning her head in the expectation I would kiss her passionately at the same time as plunging my prick into the depths of her bowels.

How could I resist? Her soft lips welcoming my kisses, her neck and shoulders, there for me to lick and bite, the long sweep of her back leading to her buttocks, now pink from my slaps, everything about her was utterly irresistible. Lying face down on the bed, her enormous breasts mounded against the sheets beneath her and spilling out on either side of body, Adele reached back and pulled the cheeks of her ass open in invitation, both of us aware she was so juicy I would need no added lubrication for my entry. And so it proved. I took hold of the shaft of my cock and pressed it against her rosehole which opened in welcome, relaxed and ready for me to fuck as long and hard and deep as I wished. Adele might have had little experience of anal lovemaking before she met me but she had come to accept my belief that it was a highly pleasurable route to sexual satisfaction for both of us.

My glans entered her rectum and she sighed softly with delight, even more so when I settled myself on top of her, my lips meeting hers as I arched my back so the shaft of my cock could slide into her asshole until my groin slapped down against her cheeks causing them to quiver, a delightfully erotic sensation. Still kissing her, I withdrew slowly until only the head of my cock was clasped only by the tightness of her rosehole and then sank down again, driving every inch of my prick into her bowels.

"Oh Frank, OHH," she purred with delight when I broke our kiss long enough for us to regain our breath. "I love feeling you so deep inside my body."

She closed her eyes suddenly and I wondered if the depth and strength of my thrusts had hurt her. But then she raised her ass to envelop my plunging prick, milking it with her rectal walls, and I knew she was enjoying every hard inward thrust, the sensations caused by my plunging prick sending shockwaves through her cunt and bringing both of us inexorably towards a shatteringly intense climax.

I slid my hands under her body, filling them with her sumptuous breasts and thrust my prick into her body as hard as I could. Adele bit the pillow to stifle her scream of ecstasy because it would surely wake Hetty. For long moments we both hovered on the edge of a precipice and then I felt an almost painful swelling of my cock as my balls began to pump their contents out into her asshole. My hot sperm spurted into the depths of Adele's bowels, flooding her rectum, so much it escaped from the seal of her anus stretched tight by the base of my spasming prick. I was delirious with pleasure, the release made even more intense by the realization Adele's orgasm was every bit as intense and enjoyable.

We fell asleep with my cock steeping in the creamy mass I had pumped into her beautiful bottom. Sometime during the night I sensed the presence of Hetty climbing into bed between us which, when I woke, was confirmed by feeling my granddaughter's mouth enveloping my cock, milking my sperm down her throat and into her belly as my lips met Adele's to wish her a good morning. Adele barely noticed, too eager to apply her mouth to Hetty's tiny wet slit and swallow down my granddaughter's cream in anticipation of Hetty wanting to do the same to her adopted mother and, particularly, greedily suck out the load of spunk I had flooded into Adele's bowels before we fell asleep. I realized that lovemaking like this was something I could look forward to for many years to come and my heart soared with delight and love toward the two women who were so important to me, one by birth and one now by happy circumstance...

Epilogue

A month after our ordeal in Limehouse, Adele, Hetty and I stood at the barrier of Platform 7 of Euston Station awaiting the arrival of the morning train from Liverpool. As the engine came to a halt and the carriage doors opened, a young man alighted whose face I still remembered from the very beginning of this narrative. His mother, who had missed him with a fierce longing, threw her arms about his person and kissed him many times, then introduced him formally to Hetty and I.

My granddaughter blushed prettily and I wondered if she did, indeed, consider him to be 'ever such a nice young man and perfect for a young lady like me' as she said when Adele first described Charley to her. Stranger things happen in life, such as a Chinese Tong gang leader saving the life of a policeman and the woman he loves...

And now, almost a year since our ordeal, it is 10pm and this account is complete. I shall finish my nightcap and then check the back and front doors are securely locked; the windows bolted. I make sure everything is secure every night because there are some nasty villains about in this world even though it might be said I have done my part to ensure there are not as many as there once were...

Upstairs my wife is being made love to by her son and his fiancée, my darling granddaughter, and I shall shortly be going up to join them. Nothing gives Adele greater joy than having me laboring in her back passage while her handsome son works his prick in the adjoining passage. It does mean I cannot suckle my wife's enormous breasts but Hetty more than makes up for this by kneeling behind me and licking her surprisingly agile tongue along the furrow of my buttocks to encourage me to greater efforts in fucking my wife's asshole, still deliciously tight despite the daily entry of my prick into her back passage. Indeed, Hetty takes particular delight in being aware that, as soon as her husband and I have emptied our balls into Adele, she will be able to suck not one but two loads of sperm from my wife's sperm-filled openings with great enthusiasm, prolonging Adele's rapture until she is ready for a further impalement on the conjoined organs of her loving husband and son.

I can truthfully say I had no idea of the twists and turns my life would take the day the Saxon cross was stolen from around my neck but I can also say, with absolute certainty, that I thank God for the happiness that has resulted from that singular event.

End.

Frank and Adele will return in the second story, 'The Affair of the Vanishing Vicar'.