Woman in White Veil: A Victorian Romance

I recently received, through a deceased relative's bequest, a cache of old family documents, some of them dating from the 1800's when my ancestors still resided in the U.K.. The vast majority were ancient legal papers, wills and deeds and the like, which should have been consigned to oblivion long ago. But one item was a diary by a bachelor uncle that detailed his travels around the globe and proved to be entertaining reading. Not part of the diary itself, but slipped between its pages as a kind of lewd addendum, was a lengthy description of a weekend he spent as a student at a run-down old mansion, a castle almost, on the southwest coast somewhere. He was the guest, along with a handful of other young people, of an old college professor of his. It was an end of term get-together of some kind, seemingly a summation of the year's work, partly a celebration of the lonely old professor's imminent retirement, but also a fun exploration of the mansion's reputation as the haunt of a ghostly apparition, the aptly named 'Woman In White Veil.' The course the professor had presided over was part late 19th century natural science, part anatomy, and part para-psychology, as far as I can make out. The college is never named, but the professor and his home are, and this raises the question of whether identities were simply disguised or if perhaps the whole episode was pure fiction. This uncle has no other record as an author, so all this is total speculation. Here it is as written, with only a word or phrase or two added by myself, where the text was illegible or damaged. I've also updated some spelling discrepancies to North American usage. I've titled it 'Woman In White Veil: A Victorian Romance.'

* * *

I first met Gwendolyn Cochran-Foulke in Professor Cliffhanger's science course back in the 1890's. She was as lovely and desirable a creature as ever I laid eyes on, blonde and slender, but with a full-figured voluptuousness that had most of the male students salivating and even Professor Cliffhanger slack-jawed with wonder. He was a crusty grey-haired widower whom I'm sure had had no female intimacy since the death of his wife, and though only in his fifties he was planning on retirement at the end of the current term.

Whether this had been forced on him through his incompetence or lack of discipline, I don't know. He was certainly eccentric, absent-minded, and somewhat careless of the curriculum. But he was immensely popular with under-graduates, partly because of this eccentricity but also because of his warmth, his sense of humor, and his somewhat devil-may-care attitude.

Gwendolyn was certainly well aware of her attractiveness, but she never seemed to take advantage of it. She was warm and friendly to everyone, especially, I thought, to the only other females in the class, two rather plain and heavy-set women who were clearly in awe of her.

A large part of her appeal wasn't even her beauty or her friendliness to everyone, but the fact that she was worldly-wise. She couldn't have been much more than nineteen at the time, but she'd obviously had some experience of the world. Her family was quite wealthy, apparently, and it was rumored that on an extended visit to an elderly relative in Paris she'd posed in the nude for some artist. The few questions she asked Prof. C. during the term, we noticed, concerned the male anatomy, and this obviously interested us, but no one in the class ever dared ask her about her Paris adventure, of course. We were all just content to have her smile at us and join in our after-class chatter.

My friend Reggie and I somehow managed to gain her favor, perhaps because we were able to make her laugh at virtually anything we said. We neither one of us ever dared pay real court to her, however. We assumed, because of her wealth and her experience, that she had some secret love-interest outside of college.

Besides, I'm generally not the most fearless fellow when it comes to the opposite sex, and Reggie is even less so. He's one of the shyest, least confident of men, totally inexperienced with women, which is perhaps what drew me to him in the first place. He was the kind of person you wanted to help, somehow, partly because once you came to know him you realized what a bright, amusing fellow he could be, and partly because his charm lay in his awareness of his short-comings, his self-deprecation.

"She's the most desirable girl I've ever met, Roddy," he told me, glancing at Gwendolyn's rear-end as she walked ahead of us down the hall. "Why do you suppose she puts up with us?"

"Our wit and our charm, Reggie old chap. Pure and simple," I responded. "And of course your staggering good looks. How could she resist us?"

Reggie isn't the handsomest fellow in the land, of course, but he's nice-looking enough, and as I say, he has an odd, endearing appeal.

As the term wound down Prof. C. spent less and less time on course material. He was confident, he said, that we were all bright enough and committed enough to have no trouble with the final exam. Instead he told us about his ancestral home on the coast, and how he longed to retire there with his books and his garden. He lived alone there with just a housekeeper and gardener as help, but did not seem overly bothered by his isolation or loneliness. He had his lovely ghost for company, he joked. The Woman In White Veil, whom he swore had been frequenting the premises for nearly half a century, ever since she'd been abandoned by her cruel lover and had pined away from grief.

He invited a small group of his favorite students down to his retreat once classes were over. He wanted us to meet the Woman In White Veil, he teased, unless of course she was too shy to appear before anyone but himself. We could stay the weekend, explore the grounds and disused old rooms. We could even swim in the nearby cove, he said, though the currents could be dangerous and he couldn't be held responsible for our safety.

The idea of an end-of-term weekend at an isolated old mansion with Gwendolyn along for the ride was too good to turn down, Woman In White Veil or not, and so Reggie and I jumped at the chance. Not even an incessant English downpour, with no let-up expected for the entire weekend, dampened our spirits. We laughed and joked on the train ride down and only grew quiet and reserved when Professor Cliffhanger started the tour of the stately old mansion.

It was called Cliffhanger Hall, perhaps because it perched on a bluff high above the water, and it had certainly seen better days. It was rather like an ancient castle, with parts of it tumbled down beyond repair. But many rooms were still habitable enough, if rather dark and gloomy. And as we were led up enormous staircases and down endless hallways we were all somewhat awestruck by the seedy majesty of the place.

Professor C.'s dining and living area downstairs was pleasant enough, his library very impressive. And after a splendid dinner prepared by his housekeeper he showed us a series of candle-lit bedrooms that looked very inviting indeed. We all had rooms of our own, apparently. There were only six of us. And as we sat in Prof. C.'s library sipping brandy into the late evening the thought of settling into one of those enormous beds grew more and more appealing.

"Don't forget to look for the Woman In White Veil," the professor teased. "She won't hurt you. She'll probably just pass through, looking for her lost love."

We all stared at each other over our glasses, listened to the rain spattering the window panes.

"Will she speak to us?" Gwendolyn wondered.

"Probably not. She's not the talkative type. She'll stay silent behind her white veil."

"Why does she wear a white veil?" someone asked.

"To hide her tears, perhaps. Tears of grief for her loss."

"And who was this cad who jilted her?" someone else inquired.

"We don't really know. But he was a man of the world, apparently, and he wanted to see more of it. While she was a shy, retiring type, not at all adventurous."

We stayed up very late speculating on the possibility of an appearance by the Cliffhanger ghost, and by the time we all retired we were quite drunk and not a little overstimulated by our talk.

Which is why, as comfortable and inviting as my enormous bed was, I had a terrible time settling down and achieving any real rest. There was something about the room, its size, its dark corners, its whole atmosphere, that was, for lack of a better word, haunting. I couldn't help but feel as if there was another presence there at all times, deep in the shadows.

And clearly I wasn't the only one uncomfortable in these surroundings. It must have been around two in the morning when there was a tap at my door and someone entered the room and drifted over toward my bed. I was almost sure it was the Woman In White Veil until I heard my name whispered.

"Roderick?" a soft female voice asked. It was Gwendolyn, the gorgeous, voluptuous Gwendolyn. "Are you asleep?"

"Not at all. I'm too stimulated."

"Me too. I'm tense and nervous for some reason. My room is giving me the creeps. I feel like someone's watching me the whole time. Mind if I join you for a while?"

I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but then she was peeling back my bed covers and slipping between the sheets. She snuggled up close to me and I placed an arm around her shoulders as she lay her head next to mine. She was wearing some kind of long silky nightdress through which I felt a large breast settle alongside my chest.

"I say Gwendolyn, is this quite proper?" I heard myself saying. Ridiculous, of course. It was certainly proper as far as I was concerned. I was simply thinking of her reputation, don't you know?

"I don't care. I need some company. Hold me tight, please."

I did as she asked and we were silent for some time. I was in heaven. I'd dreamed up a scene such as this between the lovely Gwendolyn and myself but never imagined in a million years it coming to pass.

"Roderick," she said suddenly. "You're not wearing anything. You're completely naked."

"Yes," I muttered, clearing my throat. "I don't care for night-shirts and such. I prefer to be ... nude."

"Goodness," she gasped.

She had one hand flat on my chest and as we spoke she began slowly stroking it up and down. From my chest to my stomach then back up to my chest. Back down my belly, a little lower this time, then back up to my chest. Soon her hand scraped through my pubic hair and she gave a little gasp.

"Roderick, my goodness, what's this?" she hissed.

Her knuckles had grazed the underside of my penis, which had been steadily erecting ever since she climbed in beside me. Now she curled her fingers around the solidifying shaft and gave it a friendly squeeze.

"Gwendolyn, you know what it is. You're an anatomy student. It's my erecting penis."

"So it is. My goodness, Roderick, how hard its getting! Is this all for me?"

"Of course it's for you," I croaked. "I've been enamored of you for months, and now here I am, naked, in the same bed with you. It's driving me mad."

She laughed. And now her hand was squeezing even tighter and beginning a gentle up and down motion on my still growing shaft. I groaned. I shifted nervously between the sheets. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll over on top of her and haul up that night-dress.

"It's awfully big, Roderick," she suddenly announced. "This is quite the member you have here."

"Thank you. It will stop growing eventually, but with you at the controls I'm not sure when. I say, Gwendolyn, this isn't the first time you've done this, is it?"

"I'm not telling," she said.

And suddenly she was leaning up on one elbow and gazing into my face. At least I think she was gazing into my face. The room was black as pitch.

"Would you mind awfully if I looked at it? Could we light a candle?"

"Then if the Woman In White Veil is lurking in the shadows, she can see us."

"Let her. She needs a good jolt of sexual excitement to help her get over what's-his-name."

What was a fellow to say? I leaned over to strike a match and light a bedside candle. The soft glow of light fell on her lovely face and tussled blonde hair. There was a mischievous twinkle in those pretty blue eyes as she hauled down the covers and scrambled down the bed till her head was alongside my left thigh. She clutched my now fully erect member and held it upright, inches from her face.

"Roderick, it's beautiful. So big! And so hard!" she sighed. She pumped it gently in her fist, her eyes wide. "Would you mind awfully if I kissed it?"

I groaned. I'm not a vain man. I've never thought of my penis as an object of adoration, certainly not by a young woman as lovely and desirable as Gwendolyn Cochran-Foulke. So the surge of joy and anticipation I experienced in that moment was something quite new to me. It grew to ecstasy as she tilted her gorgeous face down now and planted a soft kiss on the purple crown of my erection. Her lips were so full, like pulpy sections of some exotic pink fruit. And as she held her mouth there, right on the tip of my penis, I sensed a stirring in my testicles that I hoped wasn't a sign I was about to ejaculate.

She was watching me as she kept my penis head trapped gently between her lips. Her eyes were playful and teasing in the candlelight. She folded her lips down suddenly till they had absorbed the entire crown of my member, but then just as suddenly she drew back up and began gently licking up and down the underside of the shaft with that amazing pink tongue of hers.

"I prefer the term cock." she said suddenly, gazing at me around my erection so that its shadow fell across her face.

"What?"

"Cock. When I asked you teasingly a few minutes ago what this was, you said your erecting penis. I prefer the erotic allure of the harsh word cock. Its etymology dates back to at least the sixteen hundreds, you know. As does the word prick. The term dick, I believe, is more recent, though I read somewhere a version of it appears in Chaucer."

"I'd no idea your specialty was linguistics, Gwendolyn," I croaked. "I thought it was anatomy."

"It is, as you can see," she teased, interspersing her comments with amazing licks of her tongue. "But my interests are catholic. Mind if I lick your balls?"

All I could do was groan. Not only was the girl glorious to look at and sexually alluring to the nth degree, she was witty and charming and just brilliant. If I hadn't been totally in love with her before she entered my room, I certainly was now.

She was alternately snuffling deep between my legs, scraping her tongue all ways on my scrotum, and licking up and down the underside of my cock, as she so quaintly called it. My balls were growing heavy, and when I did finally ejaculate, I thought, I would have quite the load to spurt.

"I'm going to suck your cock, Roderick," she announced suddenly. "It will help both of us dissipate the stress and tension of the brooding atmosphere of this house. And we won't have to worry about the Woman In White Veil. We'll be too busy. Is that agreeable to you?"

She wasn't expecting an answer, of course, and by now I was incapable of giving one. She continued her oral services on my balls, slipping first one then the other between her lips for a luscious suck, then letting her tongue lick up the underside of my cock till she reached the tip. Once there she sank her lips down over the purple head and proceeded to engorge at least six inches of my rock-hard shaft. Her head began a steady up and down motion as one hand cupped and squeezed my aching testicles. It was only a matter of seconds, I realized, before I'd fill her mouth with semen. And I didn't want this to end. Not yet. I wanted my rapture prolonged.

I shifted tensely as I felt the first tremors of my climax. I may have moved a thigh to one side. The movement forced Gwendolyn off my cock and suddenly she was slipping off the bed and onto the floor. She wasn't hurt, for the coverlet slid with her and cushioned her fall. There was a soft bump as her knees hit the carpet, and the sound of her laughter. But so solid was her grip on my penis that I was forced to sit up and follow in her direction. I ended in a seated position on the edge of the bed with Gwendolyn kneeling between my legs. A perfect arrangement, in short, for her to lean forward and continue her awesome ministrations on my aching prick.

"Goodness, Roderick, what is the matter with you?" she teased, before resuming her oral exercises.

"I'm being fellated by the most gorgeous creature I've ever clapped eyes on, and I'm about to ejaculate," I countered. "I apologize for any inconvenience to your person, Gwendolyn, but really, you're driving me out of my mind."

"Are you really about to climax?" she grinned, her eyes sparkling.

"I am. I wish to give you fair warning."

She resumed her sucking, driving her mouth up and down on my steaming shaft while pumping the base in one hand and squeezing my testicles with he other. So that within seconds of course I could hold back no longer. Pleasure poured through me as I felt my first load of semen burst into her mouth.

Her head snapped back as if she'd been struck. My cock slipped free of her lips and a great wad of silver sperm drooled forth and rolled down her chin. Her fist continued pumping and my second jet of semen soared up one side of her face, plastering her cheek, her eye, her forehead with a thick streamer of sperm.

She began to laugh but then coughed as my semen clogged her throat. Another jet shot diagonally across her face, twisting its way over the bridge of her nose and around the socket of her eye. Three more jets spurted free, all of them splashing into her face, till the poor girl's features were decorated weirdly with heavy strands of silver goo. My climax seemed to continue for minutes, though it can only have been a few seconds. And all the while Gwendolyn's fist kept pumping till my poor balls were empty.

She'd stopped coughing and was laughing softly, her head tilted back as if to retain the massive load of semen I'd ejaculated. Her eyes were closed, one of them sealed shut by a heavy slug of slime. And I couldn't stop staring at her. Never in my life have I seen a vision so erotic. A stunning, beautiful young woman with her face besplattered with glistening ropes of sperm.

"Roderick, you dirty, dirty boy!" she laughed. "You've absolutely covered me! I only hope what I've heard is true, that sperm is excellent for one's complexion!"

"Gwendolyn, I'm so sorry," I panted, though I was actually feeling far from apologetic. "I'd no idea I had so much to spurt. It's just that your hand was oh so expert! And your mouth ..."

"Thank you Roderick. I'm glad you had a good time. And don't bother to apologize. I've enjoyed every minute of this. I've loved having your cock in my mouth."

I helped her up off her knees, led her over to the wash-stand, where she quickly cleaned herself off. Then we were stumbling back onto the bed and in the process her night-dress rode up high on her lovely thighs. I couldn't help myself. I had to return the favor. I slid my hands up along the outside of her thighs, lifting the night-dress as I did so. I didn't stop till the garment was up over her waist and I was gazing in awe at the exquisite sight of Gwendolyn's naked cunt.

"Gwendolyn! You're shaved!" I gasped. I'd never seen such a thing before. Never even imagined it. A bare pudenda!

"We all have our peccadillos, Roderick. You like to sleep naked, I like to shave my private parts. I got in the habit in Paris, among my artist friends."

"Did you really pose naked, Gwendolyn, for those artist chappies?"

"I did. They taught me a lot. Some of what I learned you just experienced, Roderick."

"Then I'm forever in their debt. My God, what a beautiful sight!"