The principal scene of the evening was a group in which the beautiful Aunt Clara rode a St. George upon Mr. Etheridge, had Harry in her bottom-hole, Frank's prick in her mouth, her two hands frigging Mrs. Etheridge and Ethel as they stood by the side of the couch, whilst your chère amie, not to be left out of the game, was behind Harry, my left hand passed round his loins, caressing his fine prick and balls as it worked in and out of her beautiful brown bumhole, whilst my right forefinger postilioned him behind.
You must imagine the excitement of this group so voluptuously arranged; it requires to be engaged in such a scene to fully appreciate all its heavenly delights—description is simply impossible!