The Oyster – Vol. 01 Ch. 03

THE OYSTER- VOLUME 1 CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS a glorious summer day and, as good fortune would have it, my day was free of scholastic work as Doctor White had decreed that on such a beautiful morn, his senior charges would be best occupied in activities of a physical nature. Although his progressive ideas were shared by few of the parents, they all agreed that the good Doctor was always mindful of his boys’ physical as well as mental well-being.

Ah. yes, mens sana in corpore sano (a healthy mind in a healthy body) was a maxim dear to his heart and this is why that fine July morning saw me stride out through the fields, my rucksack on my back filled with my luncheon sandwiches and a jacket to slip on in case the weather changed, which at first seemed unlikely.

It was just after ten o’clock when I left Nottsgrove to walk to a favourite spot of mine, Lapping’s Meadow, some two miles north of High Barnet. As I walked briskly along Oaklands Lane I became aware of what I believed to be a figure behind me that seemed to be keeping pace for pace with me. The sensation of being followed is a disagreeable one and I began to wonder if I were to be attacked by a footpad, though such crimes were virtually unknown in that sparsely populated area.

I quickened my steps and at once was conscious that the figure behind me was doing the same. Soon the path was clear of trees and I became ashamed of my first apprehensions. After all, the Queen’s Highway was free for one and all to use. The steps dogged me as I walked on enjoying my exercise. But though it had been bright and clear when I left the school, as I crossed the main Barnet road the air began to smell of rain. It was still warm when I sat down on a mossy bank between the road and the fields of a jolly local farmer, Mr Morrison, whose sixteen-year-old daughter, Louella, was a young lady much admired by all at Nottsgrove. She was one of Tennyson’s rosebud garden of girls, a miniature of conventional English beauty with gold-dusted light-brown hair and soulfully expressive dark brown eyes, a most exquisite and charming girl who had attended the occasional cricket match between Nottsgrove and the local club of which her brother Harry was a noted member.

I allowed my rucksack to rest against the slope of the hillock and the skin of my back haled warm moisture. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned, at peace with the world. But then the first drops of a summer shower blew against my face and I stood up reluctantly and readjusted my pack. I was about to walk across the field to take shelter in a barn only some two hundred yards away when I stopped abruptly as I saw the figure that had been following me for the previous mile or so. It was none other than Louella Morrison and I blushed to think that this lovely girl had frightened me into thinking that I was in some kind of danger.

‘Good morning, Miss Morrison,’ I called out. ‘Have you been following me? I thought I heard someone behind as I was walking.’

‘Indeed I have, Andrew,’ she replied shyly. ‘I would have called out to you but you looked deep in thought and I had no wish to disturb your meditations.’

‘That was most thoughtful, of you but, indeed, my mind was engaged upon nothing more than admiring the scenery. Now, alas, the rain has interrupted any such thoughts I might have had. Let us walk briskly to your father’s barn and shelter ourselves from this unfortunate shower,’ I said.

‘Yes, let us do so,’ she replied with a little smile. We stepped out smartly, when Louella stumbled and, with a grimace of pain, hobbled along as quickly as she could.

‘Miss Morrison, I am so sorry, let me help you.’ I said and took hold of her arm and placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘is that better? Come, let us see if you can walk.’

‘Thank you, Andrew,’ she said, but I could see that she was in pain.

‘Permit me,’ I said and taking hold of her with my left arm behind her back, lifted her off her feet and carried her to the barn door which was slightly ajar. Once inside, I gently let her down by a pile of newly-mown hay. ‘Are you alright?’ I enquired.

‘Well, yes, I think I am. Let me take a few paces. Ah, that is better, I think it was nothing more than a slight strain and I am fully recovered. Thank you so much for helping me.’ And to my astonishment and delight she gave me a full kiss on my cheek.

‘Why, Miss Morrison,’ I stammered.

‘Oh, please, call me Louella,’ she said. ‘After all, I call you Andrew and you do not take offence at the familiarity, I trust?’

‘Not at all, no, of course not, Miss, er, Louella.’

I shrugged off my rucksack and sat down next to the girl on the huge pile of hay that performed sterling service as a couch. We were both somewhat weary from our walk and we refreshed ourselves with a drink of bottled water that I had placed in my rucksack. The shower had now ceased and the barn was warm so I removed my jacket and sat in shirtsleeves and trousers. We sat together then in silence and I could not but admire the heavenly creature next to me. Her dark hair was drawn back in a bun and, as she loosened it, I noticed that her skin appeared faintly olive-tinted but otherwise of such clarity that it seemed illumined from within. She was wearing a blue jacket which, being fashioned tightly to her torso and waist, allowed me to see the perfect development of her breasts, while her lower limbs were clad in a long, pleated skirt. Her features were finely shaped and her full rich mouth beckoned mine. Our mouths joined and in a trice we were kissing and cuddling with the greatest passion.

She pulled away from me suddenly and said: ‘Andrew, I know it is your birthday next week. I have a present. Would you like it now?’

Puzzled, I replied: ‘Yes, Louella, I would, but where is it?

She undid her jacket and threw it to the ground, then putting her hands underneath her dress, she pulled down her drawers. ‘Help me off with my skirt and petticoats!’ she breathed, and I needed no second bidding as my cock now reared up hard against my trousers as the skirt dropped to the ground, swiftly followed by the rest of her clothes, until she stood completely naked in front of me. I could at first only stare with wonder and then with unabashed lust at her small but exquisitely formed uptilted breasts and smooth white skinned belly, below which twinkled a dark, rounded mass of curly black hair.

Without further words, we sank back into the hay, entwined in each other’s arms, exchanging the most ardent of kisses as the clever girl began to unbutton my trousers, releasing my straining cock which sprang up like a flagpole between my thighs.