Bertie gets laid at last - Sex Stories

Bertie gets laid at last

... down and tried to straddle me and poke my willy up her front bottom.

Of course the seat was in the way and her legs wouldn’t do the splits enough so he wouldn’t go in.

“Oh, if you are that determined sit on your seat and we will see if that works,” I suggested.

Dotty saw the sense of that and did as I said,she sat on the edge of the seat with her legs spread and she gasped as she guided my willy into her front bottom.

“What is the point in doing this if it hurts?” I demanded.

“Don’t you like it?” she asked.

“I don’t really know," I said and then we hit the pointwork at Dolphin crossing and I was thrown against her violently.

“Ohhhh Bertie,” she cooed.

“Gosh,” I opined, “That was Dolphin Crossing.”

“Do it again, push against me,” she husked, “Push it right in, right in.”

“Gosh you’re all wet,” I declared.

“Kiss me Bertie,” she said desperately, “Tell me you love me!”

“Hang on old bean, getting ahead of ourselves,” I suggested.

“Hardly,” she said, “You’re shagging me, kissing and saying I love you usually come first.”

“Thing is Dotty,” I replied, “I own this shagging as you call it is rather pleasant, oh my it’s more than plesant sorry old bean but,” and I started to shoop creamies up inside her from out of my willy.

“Oh my lord Bertie that was wonderful,” Dotty sighed.

“Yes we will have to go to London again,” I agreed.

“No Bertie, shagging, the shagging was wonderful, your willy inside me is really nice,” she protested, “For ...

... gods sake didn’t you like it?”

“Rather!” I agreed, “Takes it out of one though, how long does a baby take to make?”

“About nine months,” Dotty replied, "It might take several goes or just the one, it’s the luck of the draw.”

“Crikey, me a daddy, gosh.” I exclaimed.

Dotty cleaned up with her handkerchief, “Oh I do hope not,” she muttered.

“I’ll have to get a bally job,” I announced as we slowed for Slough Station.

We got down from the train and I asked the ticket collector chappie about a job portering or such like.

“Toff like you should be a director,” he said, “Portering is for working classes, if we let toffs in then they woud all want to be porters or engine drivers and the likes of we would be stuck in offices pushing paper around and that would not do at all.”

“Gosh yes, I do see,” I admitted, “What does a Director do?”

“Bugger all most of the time, sir,” he said, "Just swan about looking important, Good day sir, madam.”

I walked Dotty home, Her father was in the garden breaking up a dining chair for kindling wood and the staff were picketing the front door demanding payment of their wages.

“What the blue blazes?” I demanded

“We ent bin pade!” Cook exclaimed, “Where’s that ten bob I lent you, you said you was selling yourself up the smoke.”

“He paid Daddy,” Dotty explained, “Daddy where is the money?”

“Put it on “Lame Duck” in the 2-30 at Kempton Park and it came home last,” he explained

“Daddy!” Dotty exclaimed.

“It’s only ...