Mr Stephenson’s Fucking Machine Pt 2
A Sequel to Mr Stephenson’s Fucking Machine
Before the Victorian Era safe sex meant kissing and a chastity belt, but when the key broke in Fanny’s lock it took an engineer of Stephenson’s stature to resolve the problem.
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“Thee done champion job of Fucking Machine for the missus so if thee can spare time I got another job for thee, bit delicate like.”
Young George Stephenson sat in the kitchen at Arthur Cleghorn’s brand new red brick mansion, eating a chicken leg with a knife and fork, Arthur Cleghorn sat across the table from him chewing geat lumps from his chicken. He wondered what was behind Arthur’s urgent call for assistance.
“I hope it gives satisfaction, Mr Cleghorn sir.”
“Satisfaction, her’s bloody ecstatic lad, well done, no lad its Tiffany, Fanny, me eldest daughter, we busted off key in lock in her chastity belt, can you help?”
“It’s job for Locksmith sir.”
“Nay, lad, it’s a job for someone what I trust, I ent trusting my precious daughters unmentionables to any randy Tom, Dick or Freddy.”
“I’ll have a go.”
“Her says her won’t let a man do it, her really is a stuck up awkward bitch, so we’ll get maid to open door then get a couple of lads to hold her down.”
Arthur opened the door to servants pantry and ordered. ” Sid and Zed, give us hand”
Arthur led along the oak lined corridors up the varnished staircases past the vulgar foreign paintings Veneer, Van Dike the Netherlands school so Arthur said, they went, Sid Stubbs, under porter, and Zedediah Cuthbertson, the kennel man helped George with the tools, and Alice Mace, Fanny’s maid led the procession.
Alice knocked.
“A letter for you mistress.” trilled Alice.
“Go away, I’m resting.” whined Fanny.
“Sod you then. it stinks like Lord Arthur.” suggested Alice.
“Oh all right” agreed Fanny.
The sound of dainty footsteps then the bolt slid back, “Just this once.”
Alice stepped aside and Zed and Sid grabbed Fanny and threw her onto the bed.
“Tie her arms to bed, there are some silk leggings in drawer”. suggested Alice
“Leave me alone” she whined and as Zed and Sid held her down Alice lifted Fanny’s skirt and petticoats to expose the bronze belt.
“Miss Fanny it’s got to come off, you ‘ent had a shit since Sunday and you will be bad.” Alice told her.
“Best take petticoat and that off completely” George suggested.
“No” Fanny protested, and wriggled and struggled as Alice tugged her skirts and petticoats to her knees.
George gazed at Fanny’s crotch her creamy thighs, the wisp of hair hinting at the promise beyond…..
“Mr Stephenson, I think your minds wandering” suggested Alice as she stared at the expanding area around George’s crotch as his member uncurled from its slumbers and turned to solid muscle stretching the buttons on his breeches to their utmost.
“Get out” screamed Fanny.
Arthur Cleghorn called to Sid and Zed and they left George and the girls to it.
“You get out too” yelled Fanny.
“No, I got a job to do” George insisted.
“You are disgusting, look at your member straining.”
“I am a bloody Man, what do you expect?”
He eased his fingers between the metal belt and her flat tummy, checking for clearance.
He inhaled her exquisite perfume, she smelled his odour of steam oil and fresh sweat, his presence and strength,
His hand now flat on her tummy exploring checking clearance reaching lower, into the soft downy hair towards the region the belt was supposed to protect, his strong fingers her yielding flesh.
She thought of her intended, Arthur, Lord Maplethorpe, with his noble brow, flawless complexion, bejewelled fingers, his French perfume, and especially his beautiful Mansion over beyond Gribblesdyke moor.
Fanny could never understand why her father insisted upon the Chastity belt for her visit to Maplethorpe’s home and his subsequent visits to see her, he was a gentleman, it was the likes of Stephenson she needed protecting from.
His fingers now deep within the enclosing metal, strong but gentle, Fanny realised to her horror, that she was becoming aroused.
“Mr Stephenson” Alice protested “You two, I don’t know, you are supposed to be undoing the lock, not fiddling with her unmentionables.”
“Sorry miss I got carried away,” apologised George.
Alice continued “He fancies you miss he can’t think straight, miss.”
“Alice” Fanny protested.
“I’ll sort Mr Stephenson, Miss,” Alice offered and she placed the white chamber pot with the pretty floral decoration on the bed and while he worked on Fanny , Alice swiftly swiftly unbuttoned George’s breeches allowing his rampant member to spring free , then as Fanny gazed at it’s size and beauty and as he gazed dreamily at Fanny the touch of Alice’s gentle fingers on his erect member sent glorious sensations through his member and soon his rich creamy spunk was pumping from his shaft, arcing through the air to be caught in the chamber pot which Alice deftly manoeuvred to catch every last drop.
“What do you think Mr Stephenson?” asked Alice.
“She is beautiful”. he replied.
“About the belt you lovestruck wazzock” she corrected.
Fanny’s green eyes blazed, her golden blond hair shone in the lamplight,
“You are beautiful” he stated.
She smiled as he withdrew his fingers.
“I have a job to do Miss, now be still.”
He took a metal plate from his toolbox placing it between her alabaster skin and the metal belt and placing the lock on it.
He started by centre punching the lock the started to drill, a tiny hole then progressively larger, suddenly, Twang, the lock sprang open.
George gently peeled the metal belt from her.
“Let me up I want to see” she demanded.
He untied her and she sat up and examined herself, she slid a finger inside herself.
“Oh that’s so nice, you can bugger off now.”
George gripped her boddice and gently tore it right down the front, her perfect breasts spilled out. then he held her chin with one hand and as he undid his belt and buttons, he kissed her, and his manhood once again stood proud and to attention.
“Help” she cried.
“It’s all right I can manage” he countered.
“You bloody beast” she complained as she struggled against the silken leggings holding her wrists.
He climbed on the bed, and again, she became aware of his weight, his power. The scent of Clegg and Wood patent machine oil, and coal smoke filled her lungs, he wriggled from his jacket and lay over her in just his vest and socks.
“Aren’t you going to take your vest and socks off?” she asked.
“No its a bit nippy with no fire in grate.” he replied and he aimed himself at the freshly revealed pink slit.
“Its too big.” she cried.
“No its not, its.” he broke off as he thrust towards her but she arched her back and he missed the target.
“No” she cried, “What if I get a baby”
“I should bloody hope you would after all this bloody effort” he replied.
“No I want a ring on my finger before I let any man do that” she demanded.
“Fair enough” George tried again, again she dodged.
“Legally Wed” she insisted. as she dodged again.
“Yes, Aaagghh” he screamed.
“Its me thingy, I got summat in it” he exclaimed and sat back,
Fanny sat up slipping her hands from the restraining leggings.
“Oh it’s a tiny piece of metal, let me see,” and she took his mighty erection in her hands and carefully using her long elegant fingernails as tweezers she extracted the tiny curled twist of iron from his helmet.
“How’s that” she asked.
His body responded, it was marvellous, her soft lily white hands, holding his shaft, he had never seen such hands, her beauty, her breasts, he felt his heart beating like a winding shaft engine with safety valve jammed down and suddenly his own safety valve deep in his loins erupted, the hot jet expanded and the creamy white cum shot from his rampant tool splashing her face and dripping down her breasts to her crotch.
He rolled over exhausted, and fell asleep.
“You really are a stupid cow” Arthur Cleghorn announced as he tiptoed across the room to where George lay.
“That lad’s a bloody genius, he will make a fortune, and you could not even show willing for a moment to snare him, bloody hell!”
She smiled, she could do better, Arthur, Lord Maplethorpe, he had truly beautiful manners, and a very acceptable Mansion over beyond Gribblesdyke moor.
“Leave me be I would have been Lady Maplethorpe by now if you had not been so tight fisted over dowry,”
Arthur had good reason to resist the proposed union, Fanny had the look of Maplethorpes Grandmother about her and he had a shrewd suspicion that his own dear wife had got a bit friendly with Maplethorpe’s father about nine months before she was born, and then again he had been friendly with George’s mother and he had a shrewd suspicion that George might have been his own son.
George woke next morning, he felt a warm body next to him and turned towards it.
He saw a naked back and kissed it, realisation dawned, the shoulder length dark hair, the rough hands, Fanny was blonde, this must be Josie the maid, where was Fanny he wondered, as he explored Josie’s curvaceous body with his fingers, kissed her breasts and lips and as she woke and parted her thighs to welcome his erection within her he closed his eyes and dreamed it was Fanny’s tight Fanny that he was entering.
“Will there be anything else sir” Josie’s voice brought him back to consciousness, as he lay over her, his manhood shrinking after seemingly pumping gallons of cum into Josie’s privates.
“That were champion lass, thank you.”
“I lit the fire, I can do some toast, if you like.”
“Where is Fanny?”
“Mr Cleghorn had her sleep in my room when he found she had not let you, and I volunteered to keep an eye on you.”
“Do you love her?” Josie asked.
“I think I might, but she don’t like me”
“She thinks she loves Arthur, Lord Maplethorpe, he has a big cold damp rotting crumbling house beyond Gribblesdyke moor, Kelly worked there once, she nearly died of Influenza cos it were so damp. awful place.”
“Oh”
Josie lay back, “Do you want to pretend I am Fanny again.”
“Sorry”
“I don’t mind, I pretend that you are Monsieur Bonypart”
“Hey that’s rotten, he is a little runt.” and they fell into each others arms once again his prick seeming to find its own way into her slippery wetness.
Later as he bade him farewell, Arthur handed George an envelope. “Open it later” he instructed.
The cart took George slowly home. George stared at the tranquil fields full of Cows and Pigs and Sheep, dreaming of the day when the whole area would be covered by houses and factories, where smoke coming from every chimney would blot out the sun and money would roll in faster than anyone could count it, a world where cobbled streets would replace the thick cloying mud of the country lanes which slowed transport and wasted so much time.
He read the letter, and enclosed within found a wedding banns form, that crafty Arthur Cleghorn had got marriage banns called for George and Fanny even before he met her, now he needed to do same at home.
He went straight down to the Vicarage.
“Oh George I can’t do this without seeing your Fiancee,” said the Vicar.
“Half a ton of best cobbles” offered George.
“And you are seldom in church” admonished the Vicar.
“A Ton”
“Make it two of House coal and we have a deal”
“Done and I think I have been done, where is this bargaining bit in Bible?” queried George.
The Vicar grinned.
George returned to work on his engines, it took three to four hours to convert a six inch stroke self contained mineshaft pumping engine to a fully functional fucking machine, and by the end of the week he had repaired Ada Cleghorn’s Cuntraption Belgique, and had five steam pumps converted to Fucking Machines, and three faulty imported steam pumps converted to hand operated Fucking machines ready for testing.
“I ain’t testing all that lot” his maid Bessie insisted.
“That’s a job for a prostitute and we would have union round if I did it.”
George nodded, Ada Monckton and Gateshead and Heaton branch of the Pubic Sector Workers Union were a right nuisance.
George knew he were on a winner, there were lots of men around with plenty of brass and insatiable wives with sod all to do and too many kids who would pay good money for a quality fucking machine as long as they could have it straight away, any delay and they would be buying imported tat instead.
The weeks passed, the stores filled with fucking machines, George’s other projects were set aside, the part finished railway engine, and his Rocket pushed outside to rust in the Tyneside mists.
The Vicar came, he found George working on a new fucking machine.
“Ah George, all signed, just get her Vicar to hear you two say I do and your union will be blessed in the sight of the Lord and you get a decent reduction in tax liability thrown in.”
“Thanks Vicar, Did you get coal?”
“Yes, thank you, ah what is that you are working on?”
“Oh dear Vicar, its a fucking machine, actually”
“Expensive, no doubt?”
“Two Thousand Guineas, why?”
“It would be ideal for, ah, the convent.” he said sadly.”
“I am building up a stock then I shall advertise in shop windows round Gateshead, there are lots of Rich men with insatiable wives and loads of kids”
“And poor ones, Mr Stephenson, I have eleven.”
“Well hand cranked is cheaper.”
“Out of my league, I am afraid.” said the Vicar sadly as he left.
The next day the Vicar’s wife called by,
“George,” she called “Frederick says you are building fucking machines.”
“Yes” he admitted blushing.
“Bessie says you are having to get a prostitute to test them?” she added.
“That Bessie got a big mouth, but yes.” he agreed
“This is not right, I need a fucking machine if I am not to suffer constant frustration yet you need to pay a tester, can we not reach an accommodation.”
“I suppose we could sit down and discuss the possibilities with Frederick.” he agreed.
She walked round the workshop, George had laid out a testing bay, nice bit of rug on the floor a wooden screen and curtains.
“So my feet go here?” she sat in front of the machine.
“It has to be adjusted, and of course you needs to drop your knickers.” George answered looking at the machine, the safety valve sizzled at 25 psi.
A faint rustling and he turned to see the Vicars wife, the pillar of the community, trembling with anticipation and naked from the waist down.
“Please Mr Stephenson, it’s been six months”.
“All right” he guided the piston gently between her lower lips and on into her soaking cunt.
“Say when” he instructed and felt the resistance as she spoke, he backed off slightly strapped her feet securely to the mainframe and turned the crankshaft two full turns.
“How’s that” he asked.
“Mmmm faster”
He opened the steam valve and eased the crank over the dead centre, and Hiiissss, Pock, Hiiiss, Pock, Hiss, Pock, Hiss Pock, it gathered speed,
The Vicar’s wife writhed in ecstasy, grabbing wildly at her bodice to release her pendulous tits which she kneaded and squeezed. Ohh yes, Ohh my god, my God.
She shouted out screamed even in the throes of Orgasm, George closed the steam Valve,
“No don’t stop, don’t stop pleeassse”.
He re opened the valve and twiddled the nut to let the governor balls out further.
“Oh my God” she prayed, “That’s too fast,”
He took his spanner and adjusted the nut again.
“Perfect, there is a God, truly there is a god.”
George admired his handiwork then added a few more lumps of coal and adjusted the feed pump slightly, the flywheel whirred round, the valve gear clicked, and the little machine puffed quietly and smoothly.
He watched the woman’s face the pleasure writ large on her countenance, and he felt real pride in his achievements.
A clicking noise came from the mechanism, George shut the steam valve, and realised with a shock that the machine had been running for an hour .
“Don’t” said the Vicars wife, by now too drained to even speak her thoughts.
“By eck. Missus that were a bloody good test and you showed up flaw, There ent enough big end lubrication, I cut it down compared to what it were in water pump, but now I shall have to keep it same and fit splash guards.”
George and Bessie helped the exhausted Vicars wife back to the Vicarage.
“Thank you Mr Stephenson, I shall sleep easy tonight,” said the Vicar as his wife flopped exhausted into her chair.
“She is a wonderful fucking machine tester sir, showed up a problem, straight away.”
George informed him in all seriousness.
Next morning George set to work modifying the stock of engines, making and fitting big end splash guards to catch the oil and opening up the big end oil feed.
He heard a faint girlish knock at the door. Fanny, he thought, his prick stiffened, threatening to burst the buttons on his breeches.
“Fanny, Oh” he said disappointed as a pretty innocent young girl in a straw hat and long skirt stood before him.
“I am Chastity, the Vicar’ daughter.” she announced.
“What can I do for you?” he asked
“You did something to Mummy”
“Yes” he agreed.
“And she came back all nice and lovely”
“Right”
“Instead of all het up and irritable.”
“Yes”
“You fucked my Mother! now we will have another baby crying all night” she screamed.
“Machine fucked, that’ different, look”
Bolting the door behind her he led her to the testing bay.
“See that goes up between legs into unmentionables and as engine works it goes in and out like,”
“Don’t lie Mr Stephenson, how can something this large” she grabbed the elongated egg shaped piston, ” Go in here” and she lifted her skirts and pushing her bloomers aside revealed a perfect virgin slit.
“I am no expert, but if thee is excited enough it will go, It’s same size as mine, Look”he unbuttoned his breeches and his monster sprang out.
“Oh its so.” she exclaimed.
“Big?” he enquired.
“Beautiful, no wonder mother fell for you”
“I tell you she did not” he insisted.
“But look at us, are you going to force your will on me too Mr Stephenson”
“Yes I bloody well am” he told her firmly as he hoisted her dress over her head.
She staggered in surprise as he released her proud virgin breasts from the restricting bodice and caressed each nipple in turn,
“Yes do me” she pleaded and he swept her from her feet setting her down by the engine ready for test, he guided the egg piston into place between her perfect but now very moist lips, and applied steam.
A strangled cry and a trace of blood in the moisture, then all was adjusted and as he stoked the boiler the machine got slowly into its stride, Hissssss Pock Hissssss Pock, struggling with the resistance of her tight cunt walls. Hisss Pock Hiss Pock.
“Aaaggghhh Ooooh Ahhh Oooh” cried Chastity, as her own chastity disappeared in a cloud of steam.
“Are you all right lass” asked a concerned George.
“Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to” she murmured.
“Is it good lass”
“Oh Mr Stephenson, this is what heaven must be like.” she blustered.
He looked at he and the machine with its polished brass and copper whirling and the piston and rods pistoning and her breasts jiggling and her mouth wide with her perfect teeth, and golden hair and barely had time to grab a bucket before his rampant prick exploded shooting cum like a rifle bullet into the coal dust.
She blushed, then unfamiliar feelings welled within her and she in turn experienced orgasm.
He mopped her brow and kissed her breasts, kissed her mouth but his thoughts drifted to Fanny once again.
He helped her from the machine and after making themselves decent they went across to the kitchen where Bessie got them a meat pie each to rebuild their strength.
To be continued