Bertie gets laid at last - Sex Stories

Bertie gets laid at last

... money,” he said.

“But we don’t have any,” Dotty sighed.

“You can share mine when we’re married,” I offered.

“Miss, really, you wouldn’t would you?” Cook asked, “Marry that twat I mean, you would be far better off being some toffs bit on the side or sell yourself on the streets like.”

“You are quite right Mary” Dotty agreed, “Bugger off Bertie I would rather walk the streets than marry you.”

“Well really,” I exclaimed, “That’s rich I sold my Flying Fox to save you.”

"And I let you shag me as a reward,” she retorted.

“Wish I hadn’t bothered now,” I admitted.

“So do I Bertie, so do I,” she agreed, “Oh sod it, I might be pregnant, you’ll have to marry me if I am.”

“I suppose so,” I agreed, “Oh well let me know won’t you, good night.”

I went to leave, “Don’t suppose you would be my bit on the side would you?” I asked.

“I might,” she agreed, “If you rent a flat, or something for me, that way I could keep an eye out for someone better to marry.”

“If I pay five pounds can I shag you again before I go home?” I asked, only my thingy is stiff again.”

Cook answered for her “Of course, you pay her four pounds ten and give me the ten bob she owes me,”

“No!” Dotty insisted.

““Come on dear you can’t be fussy if you want to be prostitute,” her mother insisted, “For gods sake marry Bertie and sleep around like I did.”

“How much money do you have on you?” her father asked.

It was about ninety quid, “About ninety quid,” I replied.

“How ...

... about you pay say eighty quid for full board and lodging with an option to shag Dotty as often as you like.” he said.

“Do I get my own room?” I asked.

“No you sleep with Dotty,” he said.

“No, that wouldn’t do at all,” I insisted, “Withers Minor, my Fag, says I snore. No sorry I had better go home. Good night.”

So I walked home in the moonlight feeling lonely and sad at having "Flying Fox" slip through my hands so to speakbut excited at the idea of being a Railway Director..

Mother was absolutely furious when I got home just before midnight, “What on earth have you been doing!” she demanded as father dithered awkwardly in the background.

“Well” I said, “ I went to London and bought a Bassett - Lowke ‘Flying Fox’ for Seven guineas and then I dold it to an Arab Shake for Ten pounds and then I shagged Dorothy Collingwood on the way home, and the Porter at Slough said I should apply for a job as a Railway Director.”

“Sold Flying Fox? Why on earth did you do that, I was hoping we could use it onthe Scotch Express!” Father exclaimed.

“He has been playing with your trains again Bertie,” Mother agreed, “But why Dottie? You are supposed to be practicing for the end of term Buggery O levels? You will never get into the civil service without it.”

“He’s going to be a Railway Director,” Father said proudly, “I’ll have old Pongo Popplethwaite put a word in for you.”

Pongo was LMS Ghastly railway, it had to be GWR.

“No. I will apply myself,” I agreed.

To be ...