The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again part 14

DOGGING IN SURREY

On the day after the party I decided to go dogging with Camilla and Rah, in the old Jag convertible. I sat on Rah’s knee in the front, while Camilla drove, in her Westwoods. The car wouldn’t start after trying for about five minutes, so Max and Barwick gave it a push start.
‘Fucking car’ said Camilla.
‘Yah, sooo temperamental’ agreed Rah.
Out of Cadogan Square we went, onto Pont Street. A man who lives on Pont Street must know how to Pont. On one occasion I saw a bloke in his apartment with hardly anything going on, the walls were bare, the place looked utterly sterile. ‘You simply do not know how to Pont’ I said, through his front window ‘A man who lives on Pont Street must surely make more of an effort and Pont with the best of them’. The man was bemused. I continued ‘You make sure you know how to Pont next time I come past here’. Well, Rah drove right by that man’s apartment and the place was much better. He was Ponting now.
‘The Ponters of Pont Street’ chuckled Camilla.
‘You can’t Pont anywhere else’ insisted Rah,
Rah stalled the Jag on Old Brompton Road, opposite the Drayton Arms. The battery was low. Rurr rurr rurr rurr went the engine, sluggishly and sporadically. Rurr Rurr Rurrrrr. Several strapping Hooray Henry’s helped push us going again, cheered on by a group of Sloanes in pashminas and Mulberry bags in the beer garden. I stayed on Camilla’s lap. This scenario happened several times on the way out of West London. We eventually got on the A3. I wanked furiously on Rah’s knee, as we sped down the fast lane of the A3. Camilla was moaning in pleasure wearing a butterfly vibrator as she floored the accelerator passing Guildford in minutes.
‘Oh fuck shit wank’ said Camilla ‘We’ve got a rozzer on our tail’
‘Bugger!’ Said Rah.
‘Yah, lights flashing. Oh what a killjoy!’ said Camilla.
‘Let’s shake the cunt off’ I said. ‘Take the next turning off the A3’
‘This could be awfully interesting’ smiled Rah, rubbing my cock fast.
‘Turbo boosters on!’ screamed Camilla, pushing a red button on the sleek dashboard.
‘Don’t fucking stall it’ I said. The police were trailing behind, but still tailing. No doubt they would be radioing other units. We need to dash off into the wooded Surrey Hills, find a barn and hide. GTA style. This is exactly what we did. We sat in the barn for an hour, before the sirens faded off. Camilla switched the engine off.
‘Fucking excellent place for a spot of shine ma booty’ I said.
‘Most Deff’ said Rah.
‘Yah, my Westwoods need a good going over, darling’ Camilla shoved a boot heel in my face. ‘Now kiss and lick’
‘Fucking hell, Max has worn them’ I uttered.
Camilla was not perturbed ‘Ridiculous, I’m wearing them now, give them a good kissing while Rah gives you a blowjob.’ I have to say, I obliged wholeheartedly.
Rah was known throughout London as a BJ expert. Camilla switched her butterfly vibrator to full speed; it was as quiet as mouse. It had to be, she told me she wore it all the time to Claridges and at auctions in Sotheby’s. All the posh girls are doing it, she said. They are all buying the new range of discreet designer butterflies which can be controlled via a Blackberry. Awfully chic. Supposedly a few MPs have them and wear them in Parliament. It makes the whole thing far more exciting. At five hundred pounds a butterfly, they work for years. They’re even advertised in the Totler with Ultrasex and Coke.
‘Oh yah…mmmmm….yahhhh…mmmmm..oooh’ Camilla moaned. ‘I adore having my posh boots kissed’
‘Yah, keep kissing Camilla’s posh boots!’ said Rah, between cock sucks, with her Prada booted legs crossed. ‘Kiss the studs, kiss the zips all the way up to the thigh’
‘mmmmmmm….yahh….mmmmmm…yahhh’ Camilla was in ecstasy.
‘Gosh’ added Rah ‘Don’t you just love the sound of a posh girl vibrating herself orrrrrf?’
‘Yeah’ I gasped ‘Oh yeah I fucking love it, I fucking love your accents’
‘Plummy as hell’ said Rah, tonguing my helmet, wanking the shaft faster.
‘You have a plum in your mouth’ giggled Camilla, after an orgasm. I came like a bastard all over the dashboard.
While this was happening a farmers boy was hiding behind a tree, wanking himself stupid. He tripped and snapped a twig Then he ran off into the wheat.
‘Ha ha ha, we had an audience all the time’ said Camilla, donning her large sunglasses.
‘Filthy little cunt’ I said.
Rah snorted ‘Oh my god, what a fucking pikey, I say we run him down’. Camilla couldn’t get the Jag to start. The engine cranked slowly as usual.
‘Oh well, he’s jolly lucky this time’ shouted Rah as the boy vanished into a distant copse of banana trees. Yeah, banana trees grow everywhere in Surrey nowadays.
‘We’ll have to walk’ Camilla said ‘There’s not enough of a slope here for a push start. We’ll have to come back for the Jag. Come on, let’s get a steady leg on. It’s not far from here’
‘Only about five miles in fucking hot sun’ frowned Rah.
‘Oh bollocks, looks like we’re going to get a tan’ I said. ‘Have you got a spare pair of shades.
We wandered across fields and footpaths while the heat wave took our breathe away. The girls must have been hot in their boots, as they had no intention of taking them off. To carry ones boots is always considered to be very common, besides the ground was thorny in places and there were large ants that could bite. I suffered a few stings to my bare feet, the little critters, I bathed my foot in a forded stream for a while. An old farmer wanked off in his tractor. ‘Cor, look at that posh cunt in his leopard thong!’ he muttered to himself, eating a pasty. He was a gay old farmer, which was quite unusual.
‘How far now’ I said ‘Do you know where we fucking are?’
Camilla held up her Blackberry and analyzed the map. ‘Um…we have gone the wrong way. Fuck. Oh fuck!’
‘OK, so let’s nick that tractor from that farmer over there’ I said. ‘I’m pissed off with these fucking ants!’
‘Oh I do soooo love a nice walk in the Surrey Hills’ sang Rah, standing on the dirt track in her dusty Prada boots. It was like a scene from the Wizard of Oz if it was directed by John Galliano. I walked up to the old farmer who was leering under his old moustache and old straw hat. I saw that he was playing with himself.
‘You dirty old bugger’ I said. ‘Give me the keys to your tractor or I will break your neck’
The farmer obliged with little resistance, seeing the size of me as I approached. He held the keys out in dirty hands.
‘You’ll get an infection’ I smiled, starting up the Ford tractor and heading back to the track where the girls were sitting, looking like abandoned fashion models in the sun, disheveled hair and dusty designer boots.
‘Hop on ladies’ I said.
‘Fucking good work’ nodded Camilla, brightening.
‘Oh my god, this is sooo chic’ said Rah, laughing and snorting, swinging her Mulberry Mabel.
‘Yeah, it’s like Paris. Paris, Texas’ I said.
Then the old tractor stalled and it wouldn’t start. It eventually started and we moved off according to Camilla’s directions. It must have been a bit of a sight, seeing three Sloanes driving a tractor wearing leopard and leather. It’s not an everyday sight in the Surrey countryside.
Camilla switched her butterfly on. ‘Oh well, might as well enjoy the ride’
‘Yah darling, I’m butterflied up too’ said Rah
‘Well, I might as well stick a vibrator up my arse and we can all enjoy it’ I said, steering the tractor over a rutty hillock, scaring llamas. I started to feel faint, the scene became more fantastic. We were driving over what looked like an expanse of marble. I saw a huge gold dildo in the distance, like a city tower. My oh my, Guildford skyline has changed. I heard a voice, it sounded very much like Penny Keats. Penny Keats, poshest voice in England. Star of the Wood Life and To the Mansion with a Horn. The sound of the tractor gradually petered out and the sounds of chinking champagne flutes and braying Sloaney girls smelling of Chanel No5 permeated my soul. I could see a window that went on forever, with the words Jibby Bream in gold Edwardian Script. What on earth was this all about.