I was amazed and encouraged at the great feedback I received from my first story simply titled “Meeting.” My follow up is called Full Moon, set this time in the original City of Vice 18th Century London, and narrated by my Alta Ego, Richard Almack. While travelling by Coach from Oxford to London, in the Summer of 1755, I had opportunity to meet an unusual couple. My fellow passengers. The husband was a loud, gouty, grey haired Parson. Who, from the size of his paunch and swollen bandaged legs, had enjoyed rather too rich a diet. But his wife, introduced to me as Elizabeth, was a much more attractive prospect. While he looked well past his prime of life, she had reached her age in style. Much younger than her husband, no older I’d venture than forty five summers. With raven hair, creamy skin, dark eyes, and full red lips, I found her a very enjoyable companion. Not the least because sitting opposite her, I was free to observe the expensive cut of her dress, and how it revealed a very shapely figure indeed, with ample bosom, narrowing waist, and very womanly hips. We arrived in London late that afternoon. I’d no immediate plans for the evening, and so when the Parson mentioned that he and his wife intended to visit Vauxhall Gardens (one of the fashionable outdoor venues in the capital), I suggested that I might meet them there, mentioning that tonight’s entertainment could only be enhanced as we could expect a full moon. I arrived at the Gardens early evening, carrying a bundle over my shoulder, and after paying my two shilling admittance, I walked briskly past the Grand Pavilion, with its Terrace, where this evenings formal entertainment was to be held, and into the lush gardens, where already the shadows were gathering, eventually finding a secluded corner by a low wall, screened on almost all sides by high hedges. I smiled to myself and concealing my bundle under the hedge, made my way back to the Pavilion. I had found myself a corner where I had clear view of the main entrance. I hadn’t long to wait, for at nine o’clock the Parson and his wife made their entrance. I moved swiftly over, greeting them, making sure they both had a glass in hand. As we talked, the Parson drank heavily. The room warm, lit by numerous candles, and as the Quartet began to play, the Parsons fourth glass took its toll, and I and Elizabeth guided him to a seat. Where soon his eyes closed and his head falling forward, he started to sleep. Leaving the Parson behind us, we made our way outside onto the Terrace, where a soft breeze was gently swaying the oriental paper lanterns which hung from the trees below us in the garden. And as we watched, occasionally a couple would leave the terrace, and head down the steps together, briefly silhouetted in the lamp light, to disappear into the shadows secret pathways below. I caught Elizabeth’s eye, smiled, and asked “Would you like to explore the gardens?” she looked anxious, but before she could reply I was walking down the steps. Behind me, I caught the sound of a light pair of feet. Never glancing back, or doubting myself, I walked quickly away from the Terrace and into the shadows. The Quartet was now only a distant sound, as I led Elizabeth deeper and deeper into the garden, finally turning to face her by the low wall. As the Moon came out, she looked nervous, a little flushed, but very excited and looking me directly in the eye, she ran her tounge slowly around the inside of her lips. I stepped forward and there was no resistance as I kissed her, our mouths parted, and our tounges explored. While locked together in this first embrace, holding her tightly in my arms, I ran my hand down her back, over her buttocks, and upward cupping her breast, causing her to gasp, and grip me all the tighter. It was time to take charge, we hadn’t long, I let go of her and placing my hands on her shoulders, turned her around so she faced the low wall. “Stay still” I said, and picked up the bundle, which consisted of a thick blanket. This I draped over the wall, and instructed her to “bend over.” She did as I asked, resting her hands on the blanket, allowing me the opportunity to stoop down and take hold of the bottom of her dress and petticoats. Quickly lifting them up, I secured them about her waist, and then stepped back to admire the sight. For there, in the Moonlight, was another glorious full Moon. With one hand I undid the buttons securing my breeches and the other I ran between her parted legs. There was a groan, moisture glistened like pearls in the moonlight. She was wet, very wet. Firmly rubbing my fingers up and down the length of her womanhood, I squatted down, and with my tounge extended, drank her up. But time was short, I stood back up and moved closer to her smooth buttocks, guiding her legs slightly further apart, so that I could run the engored head of my now throbbing cock up and down her entrance, eliciting “Oh, No, please …” and as I repeated my firm rubbing, she moved sharply backwards, and I slipt in. There was a further groan from Elizabeth, and I began slowly to grind my hips slowly back and forward in the moonlight enjoying her tightness as I moved deliciously inside her. We must have made a strange sight, Elizabeth braced against the wall, bent over, her head framed with her dress and petticoats, moving her arse in time to my thrusts gasping “harder, harder …” Finding I could just reach, I experimented, gently rubbing her womanhood with long fingers, as I moved in and out. Then with her excitement rising, there in the light of the full Moon, I brought my large hand firmly down and smacked her buttocks, again, and again, and again. She squelled loudly in response, but she had no escape. Presently she started to breathe heavier, I could feel a flutter insider her, and then my cock was gripped tightly as she spasmed around me. And finding I could hold back no longer, gazing starward, I increased my speed, and reached that point where the devil himself couldn’t drag me off. The familiar sensation of my cock swelling was overwhelming, and within a second my seed was pumping deep into her as I spasmed myself. Slowly our breathing returned to normal, I eased out, limp, and helped Elizabeth to her feet. Handing her my handkerchief, she lifted her skirts and wiped away the evidence of our nocturnal activity. Then finally we made our way back, away from the wild garden, to the civilisation of lamplight, music, and idle conversation.