Two things any self-respecting gentleman does not want to hear from his female partner are (1) "Is it in?" and (2) "I'm bored!"
The former is an affront to his sexual prowess and the latter is a dismaying comment on his ability to stir up an adequate spark of feminine interest.
Sir Ralph Hawkins had recently heard both comments from his mistress of several years, Sandra Whistlemore. He was particularly aggrieved to hear her "bored" comment in front of his dedicated butler, Thomas Steel just prior to the Boynton Benefit Ball at the Royal Cheshire Hotel.
Sir Ralph was aware that good old Thomas had seen his face redden at the comment, but he remained silent. The much younger Sandra was blithely chattering on about some silly tune recently released and much the vogue with the younger set.
Thomas pretended to be involved with polishing a set of cufflinks that were a gift from Sir Ralph's Regiment upon his retirement.
The astonishingly attractive 23 year old dark haired Sandra was seated in front of a mirror adding an exotic eyelash to her already stunning face.
Sir Ralph cleared his throat.
"My dear Sandra, however could you say you are bored? You just went out this afternoon and spent a small fortune on shoes and underwear at the shops. Surely you must have found that exciting as well as the Gourmet luncheon at the Fountainbleu."
Sandra looked up and giggled.
"Ralph, dear, don't be so serious. Women always say they are bored even when they are not. It just means they want more. They want to be entertained."
Sir Ralph studied that for a moment, but he did not see any logic in it.
He decided right then and there that little Sandra would not be bored this weekend when they went for the shooting event on his family's estate. He would make sure she would receive all the entertainment he and his drinking buddies from the Regiment could dish out to her.
This weekend, Miss Sandra Whistlemore would not be bored in the slightest.
It would be a good sendoff party for his mistress. He was certain it was time for him to move on to more untilled fields like the pretty Patricia Poshsaddle. She was the youngest daughter of his neighbor and rumored to be in the market for a reasonably fertile bedfellow.
Then, there was Lady Camille Simpson's younger sister Eugenia who was supposedly devastated after being left at the altar by that rogue, Captain Jack Finch.
Sir Ralph had never liked that fellow Finch ever since the debacle in the Middle East and the Captain's debauchery with his Colonel's prim and proper wife Hortense.
It was all too sordid even for Sir Ralph who was a notorious debaucher of females in his own right.
He leaned over the attractive young Sandra after his butler Thomas exited the bedroom. His hands cupped the full breasts of the pretty young girl and he could feel the nipples pop out of their hiding place immediately. If nothing else, his Sandra was a nubile and responsive female in the bedroom.
Sandra sighed in resignation and bent over the mirrored dressing table with affable compliance. Ralph lifted her expensive frock up above her heart-shaped bum and viewed the delightful feast with great anticipation. His cock was trying to escape from the confinement of his trousers ever before he slowly pulled Sandra's flimsy thong down to her knees.
The girl's little brown eye was an inviting target, but Sir Ralph decided to spread open her luscious camel-toe with his huge cock instead. He ran his cock head already wet with pre-cum up and down her pretty little slit. The little hussy moaned like a Parisian tart and squeezed her own nipple.
Sir Ralph pulled her two exquisitely formed cheeks apart and with resolute firmness shoved his nine inch cock slowly up her tight vaginal tunnel. He smiled at the beguiling whimpers his mistress voiced at the impalement. He wanted to spank her hard and punish her for her effrontery in front of his manservant.
He refrained from his impulse to beat a sharp tattoo on her flanks and settled instead for a firm and deep pounding of the young girl's delicious bottom. Ralph was greatly aroused by the sight of Sandra's contorted face in the mirror right in front of them. She was perfectly made up but her tongue was hanging out of the corner of her lovely mouth and her nostrils were flaring like a filly being ridden to the finish line.
"My dear Sandra, are you still bored, my sweet?"
Her pretty mouth opened and closed.
"errr ... No, I'm not bored ... I am ... uhh ... uhh ... filled quite nicely, thank you, dear."
Ralph smiled a devious little smile and grabbed Sandra's trim hips pulling her back onto his probing cock. He was delighted to see her shudder and go into an orgasmic convulsion just as he allowed his full load to empty into her clutching pussy.
Sandra was still whimpering as Ralph pulled up her boutique flimsy thong pausing only to let his fingers push lightly into her quivering brown hole. She gasped but accepted it as the proper role of a pampered mistress. He carefully replaced her designer gown and gave her a light kiss on the cheek to thank her for her silent cooperation.
Sir Ralph's young mistress could feel the puddle of creamy cum inside her tight pussy lips. She kept them closed to keep it from seeping down the inside of her leg. It was nice to feel so wet like that inside and it would be so messy if it got all over her new gown. Sandra wondered why her mentor had not taken advantage of her proffered brown eye but she decided he was saving that for after the evening's festivities.
At the dinner, Sir Ralph talked to three of his Army buddies. They were all hot to trot to teach his protégée Sandra a lesson in humility. It looked like this shooting weekend would definitely not be boring.
Sandra wondered why Sir Ralph made a point of introducing her to his three close friends. They all struck her as "gone to pasture" pussy hounds ever on the hunt for fresh meat to pound. In point of fact, that was a fairly good assessment by Sandra. Tony Goodson, Harry Adams, and Phil Johnson were all visualizing just how young Sandra would be down on all fours stripped naked and waiting for their attentions. Their lust usually well hidden was most likely written on their foreheads as they devoured her lush body with naughty intent.
She felt her tight pussy lips easing up slightly as she spied the huge bulge in Harry Adams trousers. Some of Sir Ralph's sticky liquids began to ooze down the inside of her leg with torturous slowness. Certainly, the portly gentleman with no title and a devastatingly boring name could not possess a member of such impressive length and girth. Poor Sandra would find out in the not too distant future that he most certainly did possess just such a shaft when he and the others made sport with her in Sir Ralph's den. She would be stretched to her limit by the insertion of his huge cock into her tiny little pucker hole whilst all the others cheered Harry on to "fill her to the brim".
The next evening after all the noise and the dust of the shooting party had settled down, Sandra was called to the den by Sir Ralph. She was tempted to not comply as she was fairly well worn out by the frantic pace of the shooting. But she knew she was required to accede in Sir Ralph's desires as she received full measure for her discomfort.
When she saw her mentor and his three friends sitting in front of the fireplace, Sandra felt something was a little amiss. She could not quite put her finger on it but all of the gentlemen seemed in abnormally good spirits. They seemed to her to be like viewers of a horse race waiting for the flag to be raised.