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Anonymous Caroline


    When I was a child I thought of such lanes as led towards our house, or crossed the countryside around, as ways out of the world into another world. At night I conceived of huge doors closing at the ends of them, of carriages, carts, and hawkers' barrows waiting for the dawn that they might open up again.
    Children entertain such mysteries. I have often thought that the world is more real in childhood than obtains when we are older, for in growing older we cloak the world in thought and make it other than it is. A child will say “I,” and yet it merges its identity with others and so better enjoys the fruitfulness of all. Upon reaching one's middling years, or long before, there comes a consciousness of conflict in oneself. One wishes to be others and yet not, and is in the very centre of a tug-of-war. So often does one hear another say, “I am not myself today,” or they may say, “I do not like myself-oh, would that I could change!” or again (and most often in the case of women), “Tomorrow I shall be different; I shall be more myself; I shall be better than I am today.”
    I-older now-am both myself and yet another whom I do not know. I have gazed at my reflection in mirrors- many mirrors and in different rooms-and wondered at the being who stared back at me and to whom my only relationship, as I felt, was one of wonderment, a sense of being awkwardly disturbed that I had materialised in quite another guise to what I thought, looked how I did not think I looked, hair tousled where I thought it smooth, an alarm of creases faint upon my brow.
    Once, in moment of exquisite terror-such terror as is flavoured by the condiments of deep excitement and a quivering in the very soul-I stood before a mirror in my mother's room, which mirror being on a stand allowed a full length view, and asked myself, “Who am I, then?” So piercing is the question to oneself that my toes curled painfully and I could not bear to meet the blank reflection of my eyes.
    Had my mother entered her boudoir then, I believe I might have run to her, though being seventeen I was too old for cuddles. Even so, there were brief occasions when, seemingly for no reason whatever, she would suddenly hug me to her and I would be conscious of the largeness of her breasts and the sweet, melting look in her eyes.
    I was more about the house than my father who, when he was not in London on business, would do much shooting and riding. I did not care much for this, but my sisters, Adelaide and Bertha, did and would ride on white stallions which he preferred them to have instead of mares. I knew not why. He taught them to take horse as men do with the saddle in between their legs, my mother objecting and saying it was most unladylike and that she feared our neighbours would see. Often enough in Spring and Summer the three would ride out together after breakfast, not returning until lunchtime, flushed and bright.
    Mother would not allow them to take lunch until they had bathed, which they did together to save water and to be quick while father strode about, smoked a cigar and snapped his crop against his legs. I thought my mother of an ill mood at such times, but later I better understood. Bertha was twenty and a strapping girl, rich in her curves and with a sultry lower lip. Adelaide, two years younger, but senior to me by eighteen months, was much the quieter of the pair and slimmer but well-formed. Their splashing together in the bath reminded me always of the sea-sound and the waves that lap upon the beach. They would laugh and splash each other. Mother would call out to them to be quiet. They heeded her, but then would start again. Mother would sigh and say, “I know no end to it.”
    Father would take his paper up and read and not reply to her. I thought it rude of him, but adults then were a whole world apart.
    Bertha married at the age of twenty-one-not to the pleasure of Papa. He birched her when he heard of her intent, but she grew the more rebellious. Several times at night I heard him go into her room and heard the silky swishing of the birch and Berthas cries. Mama would disappear and lock her door when such occurred, sometimes with Adelaide and sometimes not. My younger sister objected and would sometimes have herself let out and take herself, not speaking, to the morning room until Bertha's cries grew softer. Then would a silence fall that seemed both fearsome and awesome to me. After Papa at last emerged, Bertha would go to bed and no one would speak to her until the morning. Even then, Mama was still put out with her, though not on account of her intended betrothal, so I felt.
    Adelaide took a suitor not long after. “A weed of a man,” I heard Papa call him-speaking to Mama. He did not birch her, though, and still they took their rides together. When Bertha visited, Papa would not receive her husband but would speak with her only in his room where she would stay for half an hour or so and come down all a-bubble, for her birching days were done.
    Bertha and Adelaide remained very close after their marriages, but that period between them did not last for long. Several months following Adelaide's wedding, Bertha was transported with her husband to India where he joined his regiment. “Our salad days are over.” Mama said, and wept a little. Adelaide was quieter and did not often visit us. My mother worried and, one morning, asked me to go and see her and to take a basket to her of cakes and such.
    I did not want to go, fair as the morning was. It was a long ride, I said, and the basket would be difficult to carry.
    “Take the pony cart, Harry, and do not be lazy,” Mama said. I kicked about the house, but then decided that I ought to go or would hear nothing else all day. From cook I took the basket and some beer to refresh myself on route. I preferred it then to wine but have no taste for it nowadays.
    It had been a month since I had seen my sister. There was a fondness between us that always was restrained-I believe because Papa was watchful of our ways. The journey took two hours. I loitered on the way, had oysters at an inn and passed the border into Kent at noon. I thought of my doors of childhood as I rode the lanes and almost wished to be a child again, though out of boredom rather than desire.
    The house had a blank look as I took the driveway to it-that blank look that lonely country houses often have when the sun sheens the windows and makes them glitter white, or gives a dullness to the glass. A gardener doffed his hat to me and stirred his fork along a border where some rhododendrons showed their thick, plump growth. The maid who let me in was thin and pale as if the sunlight always skirted her. Mistress was lying down, she said, but Miss Caroline would receive me in the drawing room.
    I wished to ask who Miss Caroline was, but one does not ask an unknown servant that. The etiquette on such a matter being strange, and I no expert at such things, said I would announce myself, put my hat and basket down and went straight in.
    Ah, what a vision rose to greet me as I parted the waves of the two doors! I saw the most exquisite creature, scarce more than my own age and dressed in white and pink, a ribbon in her nut brown hair that tressed her shoulders in long waves. Her nose was small and straight, her eyes were huge. I remember noticing immediately how small her waist was and how svelte her hips-how prominent her breasts were for her years, how lovely were her lips.
    We were soon introduced. Without staider adults present, it is always easier.
    “Adelaide is well?” I asked.
    “Oh, yes, indeed-that is to say… Harry, I must speak with you-strangers as we are, you will not mind? May we have wine? I am more the visitor than you,” she smiled and swept her skirt behind her legs and sat.
    “Of course, of course.” I almost stammered in my haste and rang the bell and gave my lordly orders. In a moment we were sipping at our glasses and my eyes were lost in hers.
    “I do not know how to…” Caroline began. I asked if I should go upstairs to Adelaide. Not yet, she said, twisted her glass this way and that and finally let out a sigh. “If Bertha-forgive me, Harry-were here, she could be told. It is easier to tell a woman than a man. Adelaide is well in body-is not ill, I mean-but so depressed I know not how to comfort her.”
    “You may tell me. Can you not tell me?” I touched her finger with my own, at which she smiled an angel smile.
    “If I do not look at you, Harry-and you must forgive me if I do not-and if I say it quickly… Well… Her husband has not touched her ever. That is the truth of it. Please will you fill my glass again? I feel so embarrassed to have said, yet you are of her family, are you not?”
    I could not rise quickly enough to do her bidding, but in my haste spilled a little on her skirt and blushed and stammered out apologies, rubbed with my hanky, felt her thigh beneath.
    “Do not worry. I can change my dress. I brought my things, you see. Her husband has been gone this past week on some business. Never has he kissed her even on the mouth, you know!”
    “Go on,” I said. I took my seat beside her on the sofa which itself was strange, for normally I would have taken, out of politeness, a slightly distant chair.
    Caroline bit her lip-looked both amused and shy. “What you will think of me, I do not know, to speak like this,” she murmured. Daringly I took her hand, so warm, so slender and so finely boned, yet sensed a strength in it as well.
    “Whatever you say it will be as if heaven itself had uttered words,” I said.
    “Oh, Harry, really? Well, I told you, did I not. I mean he does not, never, not in bed or… Can you understand? I swear that in this moment she would receive no one but you. Will you not comfort her and put your arms about her? That is what she needs. A moment only. I, a mere woman, cannot provide the manly comfort of a male. A moment of repose, a few kind words perhaps to praise her-that is what she needs. Say that you will.”
    Ah glory, how her fingers tightened into mine! Such a look of sweet beseeching in her face! Our faces neared each others, then drew back as if we both had called upon a kiss but feared to take it then and there.
    “I will do anything for you, Caroline!”
    “Oh! Is that a promise? We shall see! Carry out your duty, Harry, and I will consider that. I may even call you to my own aide, too, and even before I'm married. Do your duty by her-that is all I ask. Come-I will take you up to her. She is so quiet. I want to bring her spirits back.”
    “Of course-yes.”
    Even then I did not comprehend the devilment in her-what was to be. Adelaide I had always thought of, I suppose, as pure. As we reached the landing, Caroline drew me in a corner and motioned me to be quiet. I saw upstairs, beyond, and through the banisters, the half open door of Adelaide's boudoir.
    “Will you kiss her Harry?” came her whisper. We were then so close that I could feel the hard melons of her tits against my coat. “Like this?” she asked before I could reply, then tilted up her face and sleeked her tongue within my mouth and moved her sultry lips all over mine so that with a dizziness I clutched her tight and made her thighs to press against my own. Indeed, so delicious, so bizarre, was the moment-and one of such ecstasy as I had never known before-that my cock rose on the instant and pressed against her belly, and she felt it there, while the absurd thought struck me that Adelaide might have disappeared and that Caroline was in her place.
    “Yes,” I gasped, though kept my own voice to a whisper, too. Her tongue moved then again. I all but swooned, so luscious, moist and peachlike was her mouth.
    “Promise-for this is what she needs,” she said. I felt her tummy move against my prick and saw the pleased light in her eyes that she had brought me up so quick.
    I could not speak, I knew not what to say, but blurted of a sudden, “Yes, but if…”
    “Caroline-who is that?” my sister called. I started back, but my young queen held my hand.
    “It is Harry, darling. Are you feeling better now? May we come in?” All this said in a rush and before I knew it I was turned about, taken up the next short flight and drawn into the bedroom.
    “Harry? Oh, it's really you!” Adelaide lay underneath a sheet. The other bedclothes were pulled down. Her drawers, chemise, her shoes, her gown, lay on the floor close to the end of the bed. The sheet was drawn up to her chin. Conscious of my straining prick that bid to burst my trouser cloth, I knew not how to stand.
    “Darling, what a blessing he has come! May he not kiss you? Let him do.” At that Caroline gave me a nudge. My knees banged at the bed and I half fell, clutched at a pillow and leaned over Adelaide.
    “Harry?” Her voice was both bemused and soft. I knew not anything to equal such a moment-knew not what to do nor how to act.-“Are you all right?” I asked. My bending posture hid my rampant cock.-“Yes. Kiss me if you will.” Her arm came up and looped about my neck. I brought my face down to her own and kissed her nose and then her cheek.
    “I will fetch wine,” said Caroline and then was gone.
    “Has she told you? Lie beside me, do. Kick your shoes off or they will spoil the sheet,” Adelaide murmured and her head sank down, her arm released from round my neck as if she were too weak to hold.
    “Dear Adelaide, what is it?” Foolishly I asked, untying both my laces.-“Take your jacket off. The buttons else will rub me. Do lie down. Has she not told you, Harry, told you all?”
    Uneasily and yet with wonder then I slid beside her. Through the sheet I saw the upward rising of her breasts-how the white cotton flowed, delineating belly, hips, the junction of her thighs.
    “Yes,” I said. I felt a breathlessness. My chest was tight. Her head came to my shoulder, rested there. She took my arm and brought it over her waist.-“It is bad of him, Harry, is it not? Kiss me at least. I need such comforting.”
    “Of course.” I moved my mouth too awkwardly to hers. Her lips parted at the meeting of our mouths. In that moment of sweet warmth and succulence I could scarcely tell whether it were she or Caroline, but then she twisted her face away, flushed not a little and stared at the window.
    “Harry, you have never kissed me before-properly. Did you not want to?” she murmured. Still she would not look at me. I choked on a reply that had no words. Again her face turned to mine, her lips apart. Tip of pink tongue I saw and small, white teeth. Her nostrils pinched. She had a strained and passionate look.-“Do it properly-I feel forlorn,” she whispered, but at that moment Caroline returned, bearing a tray, the glasses tinkling on the silver plate.
    “Wine before kisses-it will make them taste the better afterward,” she laughed. I sat up guiltily. My sister clasped my hand, my knuckles pressed to her warm hip. I felt a desperation in her touch, perhaps excitement, but I did not know. “Adelaide, sit up. Your wine will spill,” Caroline said and extended first a glass to her.
    “I can't. He'll see me,” Adelaide replied, but even so she sat up, clasping the sheet up to her chin. Her back was bare. I saw the small, tight, polished globe of her bottom splurging on the sheet and felt a quiver in my stiffened prick. She took the glass and pressed it to her chin. A smile passed between the pair and then was gone.
    Caroline sat opposite, upon the other side, with Adelaide between us, perky in her posture, sitting up.
    “Oh, what's to that?” said Caroline, “It does not matter. Has he not seen your breasts before?”
    “Of course he hasn't-no,” my sister said, then uttered a small shriek as Caroline swiftly grabbed the upheld sheet and ripped it down. I saw the sleek pale of her belly and her navels whorl. Another inch-a further shriek-and Adelaide's pubic bush was displayed, curls crisp and tight, and in her jerking drops of wine had fallen in the thicket there. “Oh, please! No, Caroline!” Adelaide exclaimed, but the sheet was gripped. She could not draw it up again. Her tits were melons, jutting and snow-white, crowned with brown berries.
    “Drink your wine. And you, too, Harry. Hurry now!”
    “Oh, Harry, she is such a naughty thing, she… ow!” my sister squealed, for even in the instant that she finished off her glass at one quick gulp so Caroline bore her down, took the glass away from her and let it roll away beneath her feet.
    “He has not kissed you properly ever-has he?” Caroline demanded.-“Stop it, do!” squeaked Adelaide, but showed no strength to struggle or get up, head dented in the pillow and her nipples up. Caroline's right hand but rested on her shoulder and was light. “Kiss her, Harry, on the mouth, for I have somewhere else to kiss-where wine has spilled,” laughed Caroline. So speaking she dipped her face right down and brought her open mouth upon my sister's bush, the warmth, the springiness of curls, soft shimmering of skin upon her belly's gentle curve.
    “Ha… Ha… Ha… Harry!” Adelaide moaned out-and then my lips were deep into her own, my cock a-throbbing up against her hip.


    Often I cried for things, as children do, when I was young-younger by ten years and more than on that afternoon when I lay down with Adelaide and Caroline.
    In my growing, so I changed. A moodiness would come upon me often. At mornings I would sit upon the lawn and pick at grass or gaze between the border-shrubs and wonder at the mystery of the small spaces in between the plants where the earth was darker, drier, than the rest, and peopled with a curious enchantment, as I thought, by reason of its solitude, its utter quiet. Leaves rustle, stir. The earth does not. It waits for that which is to be-the iron claws of the rake, or petals falling on its silent crust.
    Mother would not come out until Bertha, Adelaide and Papa had ridden off, my sisters' bottoms perched like ripe plums on their saddles.
    “What are you doing, Harry?” she would ask. Mothers ask the same things always of their children, young or old. It has long been my belief that all mothers have a secret book, replete with phrases, that they pass to one another and the which no man has ever seen. Thus, frequently upon my entering the house, my mother would look outwards to the hall-look straight at me-and ask, “Is that you, Harry?” even though she saw me clear. I have known other mothers say and do the same. Their phrases are identical-the intonations all the same.
    Or, seeing me in a mood of sullenness that I did not even wish to have, she would ask, “What is it that you want?” and I forever saying that I did not know.
    “That, then, is to the good. Beware of what you want, for you might get it,” Mama would reply. I did not know the sense of that, but later learned it, to my cost. My pleasure also, I would add. One must not be a hypocrite.
    In that first moment, on that afternoon, I knew only the inexpressible delight of having Adelaide near-naked under me and I attending to her mouth while Caroline licked slowly at her quim.
    My hands cupped Adelaide's face. For a few seconds she had fretted her hips. I had felt her do so in between our heady kisses, heard a slap and swallowed down her squeal. Caroline had smacked her thighs to make her open them. I cared not, for our tongues were lick-a-licking then, her saliva warm and broody to my lips, my hands shaping in wonder the proud bulbs of her hard-nippled breasts that I had never dreamed to see. O bleary wonder of it all, in all its suddenness!
    I heard Caroline lapping more below. My sister's fingertips pressed tight into my neck. Her breath came hollow, hot, into my mouth, and then she felt down for my prick and traced the rigid outline through the cloth.
    “D'you wannoo, Harry?” Her voice slurred-slurred with a passion and a slyness both.
    “Want what?” I wanted her to say it, say.
    “Fuck me-put your cock up, darling. Do it now.” Blur of the wonder of her words, a slow revolving of her hips to the teasing tongue of Caroline. The plums of Berthas and of Adelaide's bottoms perched upon their saddles: suddenly I thought of that-the dark and secret places in between their thighs, quims squishy, rubbing on the leather as they rode.
    “Yes-oh god, yes!” I knelt, unbuttoned, pushed my trousers down while Caroline sat up and wiped her mouth.
    “No, take them right off, Harry, take off everything. Oh, Adelaide, oh look-it's quite a big one-what a knob!”
    “Oh!” My sister stared at it-my dangling balls-then turned upon her tummy, hid her face, but Caroline bent and rolled her over again. Then Adelaide looked up at my stiffened prick and put her finger in her mouth.
    There are some who think of every act of love as much the same. For myself, I do not segregate the ones I most remember according to the postures one adopted or the words one said. Rather does each one have its own small tag. This one squealed a little, was held down; this one cried and kicked her legs; this one lay still and worked her bottom just a little to ones thrusts; another came and came-could not contain her cries of joy; one talked a lot, spun out obscenities; another was silent and breathed softly into one's own mouth.
    I believe that I loved Caroline the moment I first looked at her-and yet, and yet… Once she was naked, tits a-bobbing, joined us on the bed, I knew a sense of luxury in sin such as I have rarely known in all the years that followed as I slid between my sister's thighs, drew up her knees and nubbed my helmet to her nest.
    “Say you love me-say it first,” she whispered. Caroline turned on her hip and interposed her face and kissed her lips. The tingling of my knob to Adelaide's crisp curls was quite exquisite. To my own joy I did not attempt to enter her but waited on the moment, cock to cunt, she breathing softly, eyes in mine, as I moved it slowly up and down.
    “Before you came I made her nipples hard. Tell her you love her as I do,” said Caroline.
    I could not at first. My heart, my cock, my balls, were all too full. I remember that we both blinked in our waiting. First her finger in her mouth and then the blinking. What a curiosity that I remember those two things!
    “Open your legs more, Adelaide,” I husked. The smile upon her lips enchanted as I spoke the words.- “Mmmm…” she uttered, gave a catlike stretch and nudged her right leg to Caroline's-formed of her slim, curved legs a V.
    “Now fuck me, Harry. Do you dare to-dare? Put it right up me-let me feel you come. Darling, I want your cock inside my nest.”
    “Who taught you such-to say such words?” I choked.
    “Tell me you love me. You will never know. I was so naughty, Harry… OOOH! Oh yes!”
    “I love you, love you, love you… ah!” All of a sudden I had slipped within, within, between the silken, clinging walls. Smacking my belly on hers, I grooved it up her to the root and felt my balls press at her bottoms cleft and heard the angels sing.
    “DOO-OOOH!” she moaned and wound her legs up tight around my waist. All bleared before my eyes. She squeezed upon my embedded prick. Our mouths met, tongue to tongue. I worked her slowly, piston in and out, feeling a rapturous tingling in my prick. “N… naughty, naughty, naughty… GOOOO!” she whined, then Caroline embraced us both. I sought her bottom cheeks in turn, caressed the silky globe, found with my thumb her secret, nether hole and rubbed it sensuously. Her tongue then slipped between our own. We licked and knew the heights of ecstasy. I felt them everywhere-their arses, tits, between their bottom cheeks, and pumped my sister faster as we breathed our pleasure to each other's lips. Rockets exploded in my belly, in my mind. I wanted to fuck her ever, ever-on and heard myself a-moaning at their mouths.
    “Don't come yet, Harry! Let me loose mine first-ah-OOOH!” She sprinkled, spattered, honeying my balls.
    “I must, I must!” The fever was too strong.
    “C… come deep up me-hold it in and come. I want to f… f… feel it, Harry. Yes, ah YES!” Her nails clawed at my back, dug in my skin. Her thighs were pincers, squeezing me. Sparklets of fire and snow-I loosed my jet, a jet so powerful and so thick she could not help but feel it hose her walls as gobble-gobble went our mouths, balls straining up beneath her bottom as I spermed and spermed and spermed-or so it always seems to one deep in the throes of hot desire.
    At the last-at the last-in the deep trembling of it at the last-her mouth was glued to Caroline's. I felt her quiver, shudder, come again. A haze of light and ever-rushing sighs, squeezings of limbs, and sinking, sinking, sinking, we were done. In the last ecstasies I loosed a thinner jet and heard her breath hiss up-into her nostrils at the feel of it. Falling like Autumn leaves, away, away. The bed ceased tinkling and a sudden quiet fell over us. Hands fondled gently, held to what they held like babies who hold rattles in their sleep. And Caroline's warm bottom on my palm.
    “Nice, it was nice-oh, Harry, it was nice.” A long sweet kiss from Adelaide, cock slipping from her creamy pot, brushing the lips that love had swollen up. Last pressure of our bellies and we slipped apart-logs severed by the axe of dying lust.
    I lay upon my back, stared at the ceiling and its plaster wreathes, its roses and its ringlets all about. Heaven above me and beside me now. Then Caroline came over both of us-a flash of legs, dark bush and bulbing tits-and had me in the middle of the two. I held their hands. We lay like children and lay quiet.
    “One never comes so much as when it's naughty and one shouldn't do.” Thus Caroline who nuzzled her nose into my neck. I wanted to tell her then that I adored her breath-even her breath-but words were faint within me then, the dying, slackening, of my turgid cock. “You should have done it with her before,” she whispered. Adelaide said “Shush!” and rolled on her hip but held my hand still, pressed her bottom to my thigh.-“He never wanted to,” she said.
    “Did!” I rejoined, though never had the thought engaged my mind.-“Didn't!” she giggled, curved her foot and scratched my leg, so causing me to utter “ow!”
    “Well, you have done it now. All things that should be done must always be done,” said Caroline.
    I wanted then to ask a thousand questions of the pair, but somnolence was upon me like a cloud.
    “The little man is tired-is he so tired?”
    This came from Caroline, of course, who slithered down and down, then gobbled my wet prick into her mouth and made me jerk and clench my fingers. As I did, she let it lie upon her tongue and husked a laugh.-“Poor little thing-is it so sensitive?” she asked. I quivered, stiffened down my legs.-“Don't, Caroline, you are so wicked,” Adelaide said, and though she did not turn, she knew. Her fingers slipped from mine, sleeked upwards, blindly found my balls and lifted them to rest upon her palm. “Lie still,” she murmured, “just lie still.”
    I closed my eyes, floated in Paradise. Then very slowly Caroline closed her lips and held my cock within her mouth, making but the faintest movements of it as she did. The hand beneath my balls stirred gently, weighed my eggs, then of a sudden Adelaide spun round and hid her face into my shoulder. One hard nipple touched my flaccid own.
    “I'm sowwy I was naughty, Harry.” She moved her face and slipped her tongue into my mouth. I groaned, embraced her, held her tight. Incredibly and magically I felt a tingling in my prick. It moved and Caroline sucked softly on the crest.
    “Were you always?” I asked. Adelaide nodded deep into my shoulder, hid her face. “Very often, Adelaide?” Another nod. “I thought you pure,” I said with wonder, then she giggled, bit my ear and whispered, “Don't be silly. No one is.” My prick was getting stiffer and excitement rose anew along a long, slow wave. I held her velvet bottom cheeks, drew them apart. She murmured “Mmmmm…” Caroline still sucked upon my stiffening tube, then drew her wet mouth off and laughed and said, “She likes it there.”
    “I don't you story, ooh! No, Harry! aaah!”
    I had my fingertip within and felt her clench on it possessively. “Do you?” I husked. “Don't… no… oh, Harry no, you naughty thing… no, not so much!” But even so, but even so, I was at the first knuckle in her hole and felt the opening was wider far within.-“You do, I'll wager that you do.” My lust was up again, I could not help my words. The tongue of Caroline licked up and down my prick. It wavered to the ceiling, strained right up.
    “She had it up there first, Harry, she did.”
    “Oh, Caroline, I hate you! Harry, take it out!” She wriggled madly but was finger-corked. Each movement sent my finger deeper in until it cleaved her to the full. I dragged her hair and brought her wildly-working mouth to mine. She spluttered, gasped. I held her still-began to ease my digit in and out.
    “Come, Harry-do it to her thus. He's stiff for you, Adelaide-he really is!”
    “I won't, I won't. Oh, Harry, don't you dare! I beg you not! oh-ah, you beasts! Stop it, I say. I will not, will not, no!”
    “Famous first words-I think they were her first. Come, get her over, Harry, I know how to deal with her.”
    “Please don't! I'll hate you both-I will! Ya-hooo!”
    My finger out, I rolled her over quick, Caroline leapt up, got to the floor and pulled Adelaide's legs back till her bottom rose over the bed's rolled edge, flat on her tummy as she lay, the cushions of her plump, tight arse presented to my view. Straining, she tried to rise. I held her shoulders down.
    “She must be smacked first, Harry-that's the truth of it.”
    “Caro… Yow!” The strangled yell that came from Adelaide was cut off by the first smack that landed on her bottom cheeks and left a pink blur on the snowy orb.
    “Be quiet, darling; I know what you best want-and as you ever had it, just like this!” Smack! Smack! from Caroline again. My sister's hips jerked up and fell. Her fingers clenched upon the coverlet. Her shoulders quivered underneath my hands.
    “Goo-oooh! Oh stop it, please! I… yah!” Another smack, and redder was her globe, causing my cock to quiver all the more.
    “Don't hurt her, Caroline,” I jerked.
    “I'm not, you silly. Don't you know she likes it?” Smack! Smack! Smack! More squeals and sobs from Adelaide, but not so loudly now. At the next and then the next she uttered a long-moaning “Foooo!”, her bottom cherry red, her hips not waggling as they had done just before. “Two more? You want two more, my pet?” asked Caroline.
    “No, no! It st… st… stings me! yah!”
    Ah, the ripe bounciness of those resplendent cheeks!
    “Just one more, Harry. Come behind her now.” The biggest smack, and Caroline's palm rebounded as I took her place.
    “Oh-woh!” sobbed Adelaide. Her lovely bum jerked up, rotated, and was still. “You, you, you mustn't, Harry! ah! Oh no! Not up my b… b… bottom! Whoooo!”
    The faint ridge of her spine-her sleek smooth back- came under me as I bent over her, ringed her waist tightly, drew her bottom up, and urged my yearning pego in between her juicy cheeks. She wriggled strongly, but I held her tight, knob pressed against her brown-ringed orifice. Would it go in? Her no, no, no resounded, but her tone was weak.
    “Right up her, Harry. She can take it all.”
    “I can't, I can't! Don't let him! Harry!.. aaaargh!” Adelaide's legs straightened against mine. The ring yielded, opening like a close, tight flower that spies the dawn, its petals moving slowly out. A gritting of my teeth-I sank an inch within-then felt her of a sudden give a little jerk that swallowed in my knob the more. How tight and yet how spongy was her grip!
    “Oooh, Har-ry!” There was a more pleading note now in her voice. Caroline laughed softly, watched my prick ease in and placed her hand beneath my buttocks.
    “Nice? Is it nice? Go on. You can go deeper now. May he not, Adelaide? Come, darling, tell your brother so.”
    “Yeh-Hesss! Oh, Harry, give me more!”
    “You lovely, wonderful, you… b… b… bitch, you! What a bottom! Adelaide, I am right in, I'm up your bottom, darling-what a joy!”
    Bulging, her silken cheeks came to my skin, bulbed deep into my belly, drawing on my cock that had ensheathed itself so deep that my balls now nestled underneath her cunt.
    “Go on! Now pump her, Harry-pump it in and out. You won't come so soon this time, my love,” breathed Caroline, leaning against me and her cheek to mine.
    “My love?” I echoed the words in wonder, turned my face and drew upon her sparkling lips even while Adelaide squirmed and urged her bottom back and forth.
    “If you wish, and I believe you do. Bugger her, Harry-give her all you have.”
    “I w… w… want your bottom, too.” I felt for it and fingered the deeply cushioned furrow there. All was a breathless haze of words, a maze of wicked images and deeds.
    “You shall-but do it to her first. Take her, darling; she is now all yours.”
    “D… do it to me, Harry! oh-ah! Oh yes! Go faster and you'll make me come again!”
    “Wriggle your bottom, Adelaide. I love it so.” Bent over her, I cupped her dangling tits. Her face slewed round to mine. Our lips met, merged, tongues fought, her bottom bounced, smacking against me time and time again, her passage tight, yet spongy, and receiving to my wonder all the inward slewing of my tool, warm-rushing of her breath within my mouth.
    “Mmmmmm!” she hummed, and Caroline was all but lost to me in those sweet moments as I pestled Adelaide, my cock clamped suavely as I urged it in and out, feeling her quim then as I did, feeling her slimmer fingers under mine as she more knowingly teased round her spot.
    “Come in her, Harry-come in your sister's bottom- let it spout.” Thus Caroline, and as she spoke her hand descended with a SMACK! upon my buttocks. In that same moment Adelaide mouthed at my mouth, “I'm coming, Harry, coming-do it now!”
    “Dear god, right up your bum, you naughty thing!” I choked-so infantile are one's words at such times. Already I was spouting, too-cock deep in her, unmoving then. My eyes screwed up in perfect bliss. Legs spread, her bottom balled into my belly, I donated all, cock sparkling with desire in her tight grip until with feeble gasps I loosed my last and felt her draw upon me greedily, our mouths no longer clamped but her head hung and mine a-resting on her neck, in my last quivers, quivering on. Again the silence like a gentle cloud on us, and Caroline's slim fingers tickling at my balls. We slumped, we panted, and lay still, then I drew my cork out with a dragging feel and flopped upon my back beside my sisters hip, she limp, quiescent and unmoving then, her face as peaceful as a baby angel.
    “It was good that you came, Harry, was it not?”
    Caroline laughed at her little pun and stood over me with legs apart, her bush displayed. The look of challenge had not left her eyes.


    It is twenty years now since that afternoon. The bed remains as it remained. Only the covers and the linen have been changed, are frilled more now with lace and pooled with silk. The same sun casts its glow into the room on summer afternoons as then it cast, dappling their breasts and thighs with leaves of light.
    Love is a game. My wife-dear Caroline-has made it so. A game that has no losers, she declares. Dice of desire are cast, the bottoms and the cunnies wriggle on. Even this afternoon, lying with them both, poking my sister first, then Caroline, we spoke of it. Adelaide smiled with hooded eyes, stretched like a cat as she always does, black stockings sheathing up her fine, firm legs, richer and plumper now about her thighs, her breasts the heavier, her bottom ever eager to receive.
    “We would never have done so many naughty things if Caroline were not so wicked,” she will often say. It intrigues her to use the adjective and adds a spice to it. I have known them both laugh against my mouth the while we teased each other, sheathed it in. There is laughter often and no darkness here. I have known… But no, my pen runs on.
    Caroline interrupts me frequently to read what I have written. I do not like what I have written and have told her so. I come not within a dozen leagues of what I mean to say. The words, like butterflies, escape my net. The weight of a pendant tit upon the palm, the rearing of a naked bottom to the hand, the ineluctable sensation of coursing up one's fingers to the curl-fringed quim of a young girl who sobs against ones mouth-such cannot be described. It is a mere pointing to the moon that hangs too far above-a stabbing of the fingers to the stars whose distance mocks one. Thus I say again, again, to Caroline. She teases me. Her kisses breath upon my mouth the same desiring that I always knew.
    “Why, dearest, do not try too hard. You will achieve. Father often said that if you would best do a thing, you must do it without too much thought, for the mind constructs a lattice-work of doubt, hinders all efforts and diverts the aim. Miss Withers dines with us tonight. Wait till you see her drawers-how tight they are!”
    Caroline often speaks thus, darting from one subject to another.
    “Shall I see them?” Often I wish to draw her back to the subject that I started on, but never do.
    “You may. She is a spinster, as you know-but such a comely one and, I regret to say, my pet, a full five years younger than I am. There may be tears from her, but I will kiss them all away. Would that I were a man and had a prick. Well-sometimes I do wish that. I shock you still a little, do I not?”
    “No.” But my flush betrays me. Pretending that I wish to kiss her words away is merely a disguise for my desires which burn as brightly as her own, and kindled by her ever on.
    “Miss Withers, Harry, she is like-well, very much like-Gertrude Smeath, in looks. Remember her?”
    “My goodness, yes. But kiss me, do!”
    “Not now, not now. A full week you have toiled, and yet so little written. Three more pages, if you please, before the evening charms us with Miss Withers' sighs. You know I want to read about us all, and so does Adelaide. Get on with you and get your duty done. Write sweetly, though, of Gertrude; she was really nice!”
    “I will change her name at least.”
    “No! You may not! It is a lovely name, so redolent of ripeness as she was, and is. How long is it since we encountered her?”
    I shrug. “Three years, or four perhaps.”
    “Harry, it does not matter. To begin at the beginning and to go on till the end-how boringly conventional!” A laugh and she is gone. My pen tip hovers, scratches once again here in my enforced privacy where I have set myself this task of memory. Here there is nothing but the dancing of the words, the arabesques of verbs and adjectives, the commas dabbed by penis tip as a pointillist tips his bright colours to the canvas. Quotation marks become my introducing chords. Here one may speak and another may fall silent, wait her turn.
    Gertrude Smeath, then. Very well. It was six months after that first orgy that we met the lady. Here I must interpolate, however (seeking a mite of tidyness in the order of things) that Adelaide's husband had not quite treated her as she had said. The truth was, she was bored with him- had met Caroline some time before and hatched all sorts of wicked plots with her. After our bedroom romp, my sister was not long in parting from her mate. He betook himself to Ceylon to take up his father's tea plantation and left the house to her: a generosity to which he was persuaded in great part by Caroline who had no scruples when it came to such, disdaining as she did and does the idea that property is the prerogative of males.
    I am diverting, and shall be chided for it by my wife. It irritates me, however, to see loose bits of string about. I had not been expected on that first afternoon I have described. The girls, as then they were, had been playing together in an amourous way and, on my appearance, the quick-witted Caroline had used my visit on an inspiration-Adelaide having listened from upstairs, though I did not know that then.
    I am pleased with myself that I have tidied up that little piece, shall be called a pedant for it, but I do not care- will make amends by turning now to Gertrude who was then thirty and as Junoesque as I do not doubt she now remains. It was the beginning of the bicycling period then and we encountered her on the road a mile from Adelaide's home. The front wheel of her bicycle had come loose and, having no means of tightening it, we loaded it precariously on to the roof of our carriage and took it to her home some miles away. There we were royally entertained in a very lovely mansion that she and her husband had.
    “How young you all are!” she flattered us, and I remarking to myself all the time the delightful prominence of her bottom in the cycling knickerbockers that she wore. Indeed, she saw my eyes upon them and without offense, twirled round and asked, “Do you like them? They betray the figure better than a gown, I think.”
    That very sentence eased our path of friendship. Women have a great instinct for certain matters, and Gertrude was not long in divining that our relationship was not of the conventional. Indeed, by teasing questions- which embarrassed me at first much more than it did Adelaide and Caroline-she soon elicited our closeness and my sister's married or half-married state.
    “One does not want a husband about the house too often-it impedes one's pleasures, does it not?” she asked. There was much dispensing of wine that afternoon. I believe she wanted us to become a little bibulous to make our tongues loosen all the more, but Caroline at least had summed her up. There was no need for tipsiness.
    “We are free-thinkers just as you Gertrude, yes. Is it not called that nowadays?” Caroline asked.
    “It is, my dear, and I am glad that you are such. There are so many stuffy folk around. Do you read much?” she asked observing Caroline's quick eyes upon a book that lay upon a table near her chair. Before Caroline could answer, she went on, “It is by de Sade-a very wicked man. I suspect that it would shock you. Better that you do not pick it up.”
    This being, of course, a clear invitation to do exactly that, Caroline's hand moved towards it, though without betraying such eagerness as I suspected that she felt.
    “He is full of darkness,” Caroline said to the apparent great wonder of Gertrude. By stretching her arm to a full extent, she was able to flip open the top board of the volume so that it flopped its flap upon the table top and left the title page revealed. So calmly and with such elegance did she perform this simple gesture that I felt myself as if falling in love with her all over again. I knew the measure of her coolness in that moment more than I had done before.
    “You have read him?”
    There was great surprise in Gertrude's voice. Caroline had notched-up one as we nowadays say. Gertrude rose and went to Caroline's armchair to perch her luscious bottom on one arm. Having so intervened herself between the book and Caroline-which gesture I believe caused my future wife a tremor of annoyance-she picked the volume up and laid it in Caroline's lap.
    “Papa has a fine library. Ah yes, Le Philosophe dans le Boudoir,” said Caroline.
    “Then your Papa must be full of good precepts. It is illustrated, as you can see.”
    “What is it?” Adelaide asked and jumped up, full of curiosity. With a smile from Gertrude, she took the other arm of the chair and then immediately put her hand to her mouth in surprise as pages of the book were turned. At that, Gertrude looked across to me and suggested that I too might like to peep. She being the nearest to my vantage point, I went across and found myself quite close to her-so much so that my leg touched hers.
    I confess that a flush spread across my features, not because of that pleasant contact but as a result of the engraving on which all looked.
    “That, I suppose, is Dolmance,” Caroline said, perceiving as we all did the figure of a youngish gentleman with his trousers to his ankles, an enormous erection displayed, and it being couched in the palm of a beautiful woman of about his own age whose thighs were bared and held apart and who gazed up at him smiling. In the background, attired only in a transparent peignoir, stood a young girl of about fifteen, watching-her finger in her mouth.
    Caroline turned the pages slowly. There were more such and each bolder than the other ones.
    “Il sodomise sa soeur,” Gertrude said with a tinkling laugh, and indeed he was doing exactly that with his penis buried in her fundament and a look of extreme pleasure on her face. Caroline looked up at me and laughed-a laugh so meaningful that it could not escape the attention of our hostess whose hand immediately, though with discretion, wandered to my prick and felt its rising through my trousers.
    “Is Harry naughty, then?” she asked playfully. The touch of her strange fingers excited me tremendously. She made no bones about feeling my cock up and groping it in front of them.
    “Adelaide, you tell her.” Caroline smiled. Adelaide shook her head and blushed, whereat Gertrude laughed and said, “Why, look, he has come up at the thought of it. I am sure we have all been naughty and have no need to hide the fact.”
    “I do not like the ending of the story, though-it is quite horrible,” Caroline said, whereat Gertrude slipped her free hand behind her head and stroked her hair and made her look up into her eyes.
    “I agree, darling. One does not want cruelty, but pleasure only. How old were you when you read it?”
    I stood transfixed. As Gertrude spoke, so she bent and fastened her mouth on Caroline's. I heard Caroline say thickly against her lips, “Seventeen.” Adelaide breathed in heavily. She gazed first at them and then at me. Since I was all but facing her from the opposite side of the armchair, she could not help but see the fingers of Gertrude nibbling at the buttons of my flies and undoing them one by one.
    “It is a good age, cheri. Your titties must have been quite firm by then. Were you spurred on-the birch, the carte, the tawse, perhaps?”
    Caroline murmured incoherently. I knew their tongues to be busy. Then, reaching behind her shoulders and while not ceasing to work lips to hers, Gertrude pulled on Adelaide and brought her half to fall into the chair on Caroline.
    “Put your tongue with ours,” she coaxed and, with that, delving her backward-reaching hand into my opened trousers, she drew out my throbbing tool. Excitement rose with every second then. I saw the pink tips of their tongues; they felt each other's titties, thighs, a perfect melee of desiring limbs. Then Gertrude rose and left my sister and my love quite breathless, tousled, flushed of face. My cock stood in the sight of all.
    “I myself was cropped,” Gertrude said quite proudly, “Were you two like that? I believe you were. You have the look of it, the boldness that it brings.”
    “Adelaide was,” said Caroline. She laughed and tossed her hair back as she spoke. My sister took her place back on the thick, rolled arm and said, “Shut up!” She stared at me defensively. I held her gaze.
    “Were you?” I asked.-“No-she makes it up,” she said, but was caught between a giggle and a choking sound.
    “On a green sward, your bottom rosy, ripe-or was in on your bed, across a desk? Not matter, for the pleasure takes one just the same,” said Gertrude. As she spoke, so she removed her large black bow, cast it aside and flicked the pearl buttons of her blouse out of their holes, drew both the sides apart and showed her tits. “I am the elder. May Harry do it to me first?” she asked. Her breasts looked enormous: half as big again then as were the girls', the nipples conical and brown and sticking out. Then, while a wondering silence greeted her, she pecked at more buttons at her waist and pushed her knickerbockers down until they reached her knees.
    How bizarre, voluptuous and majestic she then looked! Her bush was thick and deeply frizzled below the creamy swell of her belly.
    “Well?” she asked, “Are you too shy to do it to me now in front of them?”
    “Harry, go on-I want to see. Gertrude, turn round, bend forward, put your hands upon your knees,” said Caroline with the boldness that was frequently her way. She stood up. Gertrude smiled a smile at her as if of admiration and surprise, but did not hesitate. She swung around several feet in front of us and bent as she was told, her big bottom cheeks presented, plump and totally unflawed, a faintly gingery hue between the large, ballooning hemispheres. A dimple decorated the left half of her luring bum most prettily.
    Off came my jacket and I pushed my braces down. All was quiet then in the ornate drawing room. Only a clock ticked out its monotone and threw the seconds out in a slow shower of sparks.
    Feeling my approach-and I sensing myself utterly on exhibition, as it were-Gertrude reached between her legs with her right hand and groped up underneath her bottom for my cock. I bent my knees and put it to her searching fingers then.
    “Service me, Harry.” she murmured. I had never heard the phrase before, but have known since that it is much used by the country folk who may say also that a girl has been “covered” if she has been fucked.
    I clasped my hips and bent my knees. Not a sound came to me from the girls behind. My swollen knob was grazed against thick curls, felt rolled lips and moisture there, and then manouevred in till it slipped upwards in her spongy dell. At that, Gertrude spread her sturdy legs the more and put her hand again upon her knee-the other being similarly placed. Slowly I sheathed my cock and felt the well-known tingling round my knob as it invaded the close, silky walls until my balls hung underneath her quim. Gertrude hissed her breath out, then was quiet. Her heels dug in the carpet, pressed down by her weighty legs.
    “Slowly, Harry!”.
    I resented, I believe, the intrusion of Caroline's voice. I was, it seemed, brought to perform. A gaggle of females is quite “dangerous” in that respect. Some may simper and do what is asked of them, but others take a strength upon themselves and reverse the usual roles of males and female. I no longer dislike that and have known other men of the same mind. One is transported for a while into a different world where females rule. There are some women who will have it no other way, but Adelaide and Caroline were never so and would come meekly to me in the aftermaths, as if the game had changed and the old order then restored.
    In my awkwardness on that occasion, I knew not how to hold or support Gertrude whose solid stance and sturdiness were such that her hips but jolted lightly as I pumped away, first holding at her hips and then, more pleasurably, palming the fronts of her plump thighs and feeling through her cunthairs as I did.
    My sister did not move, nor Caroline. I have no doubt they kissed. I heard small sounds. Seated as they were, they could best see the in-out shunting of my tool in Gertrude's nest and the steady swinging of my testicles. Moving my hands again, I let Gertrude's weighty tits perform their wobblings on my palms and felt the stinging of her nipples on my skin.
    A minute passed of steady slewing in and out. I must confess the girls had trained me well in those past months, had monitored me not to come too soon-had even strapped my buttocks when I did, then cozened me, made jokes of it, and so mollified me that I had no resentment of their knowing ways. A lively girl is always older than her male, even though he be twice her age.
    Gertrude scarcely murmured, but I felt her come, sprinkling my cock, her bottom smacking loudly to my belly as she did. I hissed my own pleasure out-tried not to moan. The largeness of her bottom was a pure delight- the full width of my waist, for I was slim. A ruthlessness seized me. I began to ran her harder with my cock. She uttered a small noise at that, as if I pleasured her the more.
    “Do you like his balls? Do they not look nice?” I heard Caroline say. My sister murmured something in reply. Caroline had her hand right up her skirt, I'm sure. The slapping of my flesh grew louder in the drawing room. Blurred though my vision was with lust, I was aware of all-the velvet curtains, polished sideboard, silver ornaments, a vase of flowers. My prick was in the cunt of a comely woman whom I scarcely knew-a silken sheath that sucked upon my tool. A strong desire to kiss her wide, — full mouth was on me, but I knew she would not turn her face. We were “performing” and no more than that.
    “Haaar! Oh, Caroline, oh darling!” I heard Adelaide declare. I did not turn my head. I did not want to see and yet I did. I heard the chair creak and a rustling sound. SMACK! SMACK! came Gertrude's bottom into me, and then I came all in the glory of my spurting sperm and could not stem the tide, could not. I loosed her tits and parted wide the elastic half-moons of her bottom cheeks, pressed my thumb to her crinkled orifice and loosed the last warm strings of come, her full moon wriggling to my urging thumb.
    As I withdrew at last, I spattered on her stocking top and Gertrude rose and turned about, wobbling her breasts against my chest and kissing me with passion.
    “You naughty things are just what I need.” she said, and gasped “Oh, look at them!”
    I turned about, my cock held in her grasp. Adelaide was seated and her dress thrown up. Kneeling before her, Caroline supported my sister's stockinged legs upon her shoulders and was lapping slowly at her cunny-slit.


    I was more contemplative than Adelaide and Caroline on our return that day. In a curious way I regretted what had passed. I preferred the closeness of our threesomeness, as Caroline was wont to call it. I did not wish us to break out into the world. I wanted all to be closed in, remote, and thus (as I saw it then) secured.
    In the quietly-sensing manner of females, my sister and Caroline were aware of this, but a ruthless streak obtained in them that I had not bargained for. Being once more in my sisters house and we three sedately drinking tea, Caroline said of a sudden, “Gertrude wants to see us being… you know… doing it. She says there'll be a party soon and wants the three of us to go. Shall you be jealous, Harry?”
    “Harry, shall you? Yes, I know you will-you will,” interjected Adelaide, and I with a gloomy cast upon my face. I said I did not care, so dull my mood was at the news. They knew I lied. They saw it in my eyes.
    “You have done it-and in front of us,” Caroline said crisply and crossed her legs and made her stockings swish.
    “It is not…” I began to say, and stopped. A sneer slid snakelike on her lovely mouth.
    “Not the same? Is that what you wish to say? Just listen to him, Adelaide! He had his thing right up her, in our view.”
    “Shut up! I wish I had not had. You egged me on,” I burst and went upstairs. I wanted to hide myself and never to appear again. I had my own room there and kicked around in it. I heard them laughing down below. Beware of what you want, for you might get it, Harry, my Mama had said. I had acted like an animal, I thought; I had performed like one with Gertrude Smeath; if anything, I had been used. I had serviced her like a stable beast.
    Half an hour passed and I brooded still. Fear and desire: they curdled in my mind. Then I heard feet ascending and composed myself and sat down on the bed. A knock came. I grunted something. Adelaide came in and closed the door.
    “Caroline was right, you know. You did it with her, right in front of us. People get excited and they do things. Well-I did not mind. You would not have done it if you had not wanted to. It made you feel nice, did it not?”
    She came and sat beside me on the bed, looked sweet, concerned, and touched my hand. I brooded at the carpet and then told her what I thought.
    “You were used? Of course you were not-or at least, no more than women are. Girls who are shy are trained to pleasure; young men do not have to be.” Her tone at that was almost as moody as my own had been.
    “Were you trained?” I asked. I felt a quickening beat of heart and slipped an arm around her shoulders. She lay back and slowly dragged my arm down with her. In a moment so we lay, legs half upon the floor. I had wondered for months at the seeming change in her. Her eyelids drooped. She gazed at me through slits.
    “Please do not be horrid to us, will you, Harry?”
    “Were you?” I insisted.
    “A little bit. Do it with me. Caroline will not come up. She promised not to.” Her fingers groped my prick and loosed the buttons of my flies. Her breath smelled both of tea and wine. Parting her lips angelically, she made me kiss her lightly while we talked. Did I like doing it with her, she asked. Of course I did. I told her so, hand underneath her skirt, her cunny moist, soothing the inner silky skin of her spread thighs. My prick thrummed in her hand. Naughty talking made it stiff, she said. What would I do if I saw her playing with another's cock, she asked.
    “Stop it!” I groaned.
    “Push your trousers down, silly, and get between my legs.” Liquid her tongue to mine, the tickling of her curls against my knob. I felt her bottom shift to draw me in, then cupped her warm round bottom hungrily. Breathing jerkily I sheathed my prick up slowly in her clinging nest then pressed my cheek to hers and so we lay. Slowly she raised her silkclad legs and wound them closely round my waist.
    “I don't want to see you doing it with anyone else.”
    “Shush, sillikins. You'll do the same yourself, you know you will:-watching my bottom wriggle while you do it with another girl. And what of Caroline? You love her more than me-I'm glad you do. I do not mind, so why should you. Mmm… move it a little bit. I like it done like that.”
    “I know you do. How were you trained?”
    “I told you-just a little bit. Girls have to be. It's better for them-then they get to like it more. I want to train a girl myself one day, and so does Caroline. With you, of course. Don't come too soon. Move it right in and out now, Harry, do.”
    “Caroline said that you were cropped.”
    “Did she?” Her voice was thick. Her bottom stirred more eagerly, feeling the deeper movements of my cock.
    “When you went riding were you cropped? You were-I know you were-now tell me true.”
    “Harry, come on, don't talk so much. Just do it to me now. Oh, make me come!”
    “He cropped your bottom, did he not, with Bertha there, to make you do it. No wonder you came back so flushed and bright always.”
    “Bertha was always naughtier than me-you know she was. Oh, darling, yes, I'm coming! whoooo! Mmmm… Harry… come in me, I want you to.”
    “He did it up your bottom, Adelaide, I know he did, I… pmfff!..” My sperm exploded suddenly, gush upon gush, a-rushing out, her tongue a twirling in my mouth, our buttocks heaving madly midst the flood until I sobbed my last and felt her hand upon my hair, soothing as one soothes a sobbing child. “You did not answer-did not answer!” came my cry.
    “Shush! There, there, there.” Her legs slid slowly down, heels thumping on the floor and wide apart, her belly smooth and silky under mine until my prick became a wrinkled slug and slipped without, donating its last sperm-drops on her cunny-lips.
    No victor then, nor vanquished, I accepted from that moment on the new alignment of our amourous companionship.
    “He is better now,” I heard my sister say to Caroline when she descended. As though I had been ill, I thought. -“Harry, come down and break a bottle with us,” Caroline called cheerily and, when I appeared, she ran to me and kissed me and said most earnestly, “No one will break our web of love. Is that not true?”
    “Of course it is-he knows it is,” laughed Adelaide as if to say our minds were one. I could not without churlishness say otherwise, and did not from that moment on. They were my angels-I their chosen knight, if not their guardian to whom they sometimes looked for affirmation of their own desires.
    “Had you been different, Harry, all else would be different. We could not share these pleasures with a stranger,” Caroline said to me that evening. We grew closer in a subtle way, she and I, from that day on. I believe that for the first time she felt a tinge of jealousy that it was Adelaide who had sealed the gap with me. I understood- though neither of us spoke of it-and made amends for it that night by fucking her soundly twice while Adelaide went to her room and slept alone.
    I was less and less seen at home, and by degrees my mother accepted the situation, utterly unconventional as it was for three young people to share a house. Caroline charmed her more than I could do, and I believe that was the key to it. Often enough the three of us would sleep together, not always engaging our bodies completely, but merely kissing and toying with one another in what Caroline said was a very civilised manner. Many sweet and lewd things were said at such times in the cosy darkness with the curtains closed. I brought them both to suck my cock sometimes, the one attending to me with her lips while the other donated me her mouth and titties.
    “We three do it for love and because it makes us feel naughty,” Caroline said the day after our encounter with Gertrude. “Whereas,” she continued, “Gertrude is different. She is a very lustful woman. Why, when we left you alone for a while and went upstairs with her, she told us she has often taken two men at once-which is to say one in her cunny and one up her bottom. One can hardly imagine such a thing, and yet she said it has made her all but swoon with pleasure.”
    “I think many girls wonder about that,” Adelaide smiled. She bit her lip and offered me a doubtful smile, wondering no doubt whether I would grow angry at her remark.
    “When we train a girl, we shall make her do that,” Caroline said, as if to say that they did not mean to do it themselves. We thought ourselves unique in so talking, and often said so between ourselves.
    It was Gertrude who disabused us of this idea upon our next encounter which was a more private one than we had anticipated, for in two days she had sent an invitation for us to lunch with her. I wondered who else might be there and had ridiculous visions of my sister and Caroline being undressed after the dessert and brought to perform with strangers. Gertrude, however, met us alone. She looked exceedingly charming in a pink silk dress, had rouged her lips and cheeks exceedingly and wore kohl around her eyes which gave a mysterious and almost Egyptian look.
    “I shall not kiss any of you, for I have others to kiss,” she said, thus casting a mystery upon the visit.
    “You expect others then?” Caroline asked with that coolness I admired in her.
    “Indeed, though not as grown up as you. They will attend after lunch. It will be rather like schooltime, will it not? They are quite attractive,” Gertrude replied, for she was intent on having her secret for the while and so we did not pursue it.
    Lunch was served by two charming maids whose ages I thought to be about seventeen or so. Their attire was not of the dowdy black that maidservants mostly wear, but had a shiny, crisp new look, as did their stockings, and their shoes which had silver buckles. Their white laced caps were set at a perky angle and their hair looked newly washed.
    “How nicely you dress them, Gertrude,” Adelaide remarked. The question mark in her voice was nicely placed. In such small things I realised how much she had imbibed from Caroline who was always the slightly surer of the two.
    “It is to a purpose, dear. They are in training both as servants and handmaidens. I like to keep my guests amused, you know. Their bottoms are smartened up each morning by a paddle or a tawse. It improves their carriage and puts a pretty flush into their cheeks. They are sisters, of course. You may have noticed the resemblance. It makes for greater closeness than to bring two strangers together who may not take to each other's ways.”
    Caroline and Adelaide glanced at each other at this intelligence. One could almost hear their thoughts communicating. Gertrude observed this and laughed.
    “You do not know what to ask first, I know,” she said. “They are docile but not subdued. When asked to attend upon one of my guests, whether male or female, they will go to the room of this or that one and will present themselves for pleasure. In the final event, however, I give them a choice. Which is to say that if they express distaste for a certain gentleman or lady, then I am obliged to make excuse for them. It rarely happens, of course. Indeed it has only happened once and is unlikely to again.”
    “You could force them,” Caroline said tentatively, spooning her croutons.
    “Indeed I could, but to what purpose? They would become miserable and would be caught between enjoying such relative luxury as they have here, or of returning in another house to the dull routines that servants are normally put to. Their pleasure in tonguing a lady or of being mounted by a gentleman would soon diminish. As it is, they are perfectly content. In two or three years time I shall replace them. They are aware of that, but will not leave here penniless by any means, for my guests are generous.”
    “How do you train them, Gertrude?” Adelaide asked. The question danced like an eager fairy on her tongue.
    “Our acquaintanceship will not be so short that I will not have time to show you that, my pet-or at least I trust that it will not. One would have to start with a new girl, of course. That will not be too difficult. I know of one sweet young thing who is coming up to a time when she will need attention. For the moment, however, I have two young men to train,” came the astonishing reply. Before I could recover from it, and while receiving the most mischievous of glances from my two angels, Gertrude said, “But let us now talk of other things or we shall bore ourselves with repetitions, shall we not?”
    So graciously did she utter that last sentence that I lost all thoughts of having perhaps been used by her. Indeed, she was to say to me later, “We use each other, Harry, for our mutual pleasure. There is no harm in that, for it enriches us. A hedonist I may be called, but if I am so called then I shall take it as a compliment. Life is brief. Let us light all the candles that we can!”
    I come now, however, to the events of that afternoon which were strange to me indeed and yet showed me-as both my sister and Caroline said they hoped it would- that there could be greater equality between the sexes than Society thinks possible. At three a carriage arrived and from it there descended a noble looking dame of fine aspect and majestic curves, accompanied by two slim and good-looking youths of some sixteen or seventeen years. They followed her docilely to the door, as I was permitted to see by peeping from a bay window at the front.
    “You may see all that passes, but I do not wish you to be seen by them. The reasons for that will quickly become apparent to you. They are being nurtured in the company of females only,” Gertrude said to me and showed me where to place myself, which is to say behind a floral screen up in her boudoir, the slight gaps between the boards allowing me to see quite clearly all that was to pass.
    As the bell rang, so I took myself upstairs and waited in my hiding place. A murmuring of voices came to me from below and then the carriage again departed. No sooner had it done so that the youths were brought upstairs. I say advisedly were “brought.” They uttered not a word and had a slightly sheepish but expectant look. Their feet shuffled and they stood against the wall that faced the side of the double bed.
    “These young stallions-for they will soon be such- are being bedroom-trained,” said Gertrude to the girls. “Roger is the son of Beatrice whom you just met. Alfred is her nephew. Beatrice frequently entertains her lady friends at weekends and likes to have them pleasured. These two have to show themselves cock-worthy for the task. The ladies are all mature and like to be well-threshed by fresh young pricks such as these two have. What is imperative is that our youthful stallions do not let their own desires overtake them and so they must measure their strokes and not come too soon. Should they do so, they are punished and their pricks made to stiffen again. Boys-show yourselves!”
    Both quivered at her sudden, sharp command but did not hesitate. Coatless as they were they immediately commenced unbuttoning their shirts which they cast off and folded neatly to place them beside their feet. Their shoes followed and then their socks and then their-trousers. Naked they stood, their cocks a-droop.
    The eyes of my sister and of Caroline distinctly glowed. The boys bit their lips and looked a little shy to be so stared at.
    “We like to see them soft before we stiffen them. The ladies like to draw their pellets-as they call their knobs- into their mouths and feel them swell. Were you both milked this morning?” Gertrude asked the two. They nodded at her and looked awed. I had never heard the term before, but the meaning came to me soon enough. “Was it nice?” she asked teasingly, whereat they flushed a little and nodded again whereupon Gertrude turned to the girls and said, “Silence in young girls is said to be a virtue and for good reason, for as you will have both experienced, a young lady who is taken upstairs to be threaded or to have her bottom corked, is not expected to squeal out and raise alarms. It is equally so with such as these. And now, having been so good and quiet, I expect they want to sniffy-sniff. Come, boys, do your first duty!”
    At that, she motioned Adelaide and Caroline to seat themselves upon the bed and drew her dress up almost to her knees. As she did so, the youths became alert-like greyhounds eager at the leash. Falling to their knees, they crawled to her-Roger to her front and Alfred circling to her rear. Adelaide and Caroline quite clutched each other's hand in excitement and watched them, as I did, put their heads and shoulders up beneath the skirt of Gertrude which slowly fell and so enveloped them. Then she put her legs astride and placed her hands upon her hips.
    “One sniffs my bottom, and the other underneath my cunt,” she murmured. “It is quite a lovely sensation to have a double attendance upon one by two puppy dogs. Ah-sniff you little devils, sniff!”
    “They will lick you in a minute,” Adelaide laughed, her eyes as bright as ever I had seen.
    Gertrude, however, shook her head. “No, my dear, they will not. They may do nothing that they are not commanded to. That is the penance they must pay for being able to fuck the lovely ladies. They lick only when told, and may be whipped if they should dare to do so otherwise, or I may piddle in their mouths, for that is also done to teach obedience. All right, come out now, boys-present yourselves!”
    Shuffling backwards they emerged, their faces flushed as well they might have been and their cocks most noticeably sticking up.
    “Ah-there you see the pleasure they express!” laughed Gertrude and beckoned to the girls to stand. “Come darlings, you may feel their pricks and balls now, if you wish. They love to be handled and will stand docile when you do.”'
    My angels did not hesitate, and so far from feeling jealousy I felt a strong excitement in my veins to see their fingers teasing up and down those fervent, young erections.
    “How often are they milked?” asked Caroline who told me afterwards that she loved the phrase and would use it even in respect of myself.
    “Six times a day is requisite. At night, if called to beds, they must perform twice at the least. Their cocks are not yet as thick as they will later be and the ladies love to put their bottoms up to them and draw the sperm out from their stems. The art of it is that the boys should ream them thoroughly and well and cause them to come before they do themselves. I will show you how that is taught. Up with your dresses, girls, and bend over at the side of the bed. Present your bottoms to them. You are very accustomed to the posture, I am sure!”
    Adelaide and Caroline gazed at each other, and then at the screen behind which they knew me to be hid. I felt my prick rise even as they bent.
    I was to watch them being fucked, or corked.
    Had I been able to, I would have rushed out, embraced the lovely pair, and said, “Yes-do it-let me see!”


    The youths stood side by side again, having moved as if commanded silently, their penises erect-a strange, strange sight to see.
    My sister and Caroline moved slowly, as I hoped they would. Hip to hip and bending over, they drew up their gowns. As often as I had seen them thus, I was still enchanted by the view. First one saw their shapely calves, each sheathed in dark grey stockings, then-above-the dipping of their knees, their swelling thighs, the ruffled ridging of their garters and the pale sheen of their flesh above. Gertrude meanwhile moved between the boys, shouldering them brusquely apart, and held their cocks, her fingers ringed around the throbbing stems.
    At that, as if by some signal, my sister and Caroline bared their bottom cheeks and wrapped their gowns up tightly round their hips, causing Gertrude to smile with pleasure at the sight.
    “How spankable you both look! Is that how you used to present yourself for your tuitions-eh?” she laughed, and drew the boys towards them slowly, step by step. There was regimenting in each movement, as I saw. Perhaps in part I envied them. Feeling mulish, perhaps, or mischievous, neither Adelaide nor Caroline replied. So apple-round and tight their bottoms looked that I could not help but frig myself and even feared to knock the screen or breathe too heavily so that I might be heard. So quickly had my feeling changed that I would have done anything to watch them being poked or sodomised.
    “Well?” Gertrude asked them. They boys had been taken so close then that their knobs all but touched the velvety cheeks that so lewdly were presented to their view.
    “We may tell you later, Gertrude. Put them to us,” Caroline ordained.
    “Not so quickly, darling, for they must be teased a little-and you, too. This is an exercise that Beatrice quite adores, and so do I. Now-very slowly, very slowly, boys as I have taught you. Put your knobs against their bottomholes and hold them there.”
    So saying she guided each one with her hands and pressed the rearing stalks down in between the luscious hemispheres whose flesh so gleamed. I distinctly then saw the eyelashes of both Roger and Alfred quiver as their smooth knobs touched the tight, desiring holes and there were held.
    Caroline stirred her bottom a little. So did Adelaide. Then they were still again. I heard their breathing softly breathing out. Rogers legs trembled as did Alfred's. Already I had spread my legs apart and unbuttoned my trousers to the full as if I, too, were indulging in the sensuous act. “Go on-go on!” I wished to shout, and yet the very slowness of it all had its excitement.
    “Now put your knobs in-just the knobs. You know better than to do more at the first. Good boys, good boys- press smoothly in… and hold!”
    “Oooh!” came from Adelaide, but the sound choked off. The boys' knobs were enclosed within their nether rings-the proud stems jutting out and gently held around the roots by Gertrude who stood between them still in “training” pose. The seconds ticked away. The girls' hands clenched and then relaxed.
    “Now-inch by inch,” Gertrude intoned. A hiss of breath from Adelaide and Caroline. Tortured excitement had them in its spell as the tubes of rigid flesh urged in and were trapped between the springy cheeks. But Gertrude saw to every move and held the boys back with some four inches in. “hold! Hold again!” she commanded, and so they did, and so they did, their knees a-trembling mightily. A slight groan came from Alfred who was half-inserted in my sisters bottom, “quiet!” snapped Gertrude, at which his face quite fell.
    Again a silence, and again a waiting. How much I wanted to spring out and kiss both Caroline and Adelaide! Gertrude released her hold upon the boys and stepped back, glancing towards me with a smile.
    “Very well-enter fully and perform. I will count as you do so, up to forty, starting now,” came from her. Then with more rushings of enamoured breath, the pegs sank in, remained buried for a moment and drew out until the knobs just showed. “One-two…” called Gertrude. The count began! I knew not such a thing before and never could have dreamed of it. Adelaide and Caroline wriggled their bottoms quite adorably, their hands flat down upon the coverlet and legs held trimly straight, apart. There was a knowledge in them then to make no sound, on that occasion at the least. They churned their hips, their lips apart.
    “Clasp their hips lightly now and work them well,” commanded Gertrude, counting fifteen as she did. At that the boys began to pump more quickly, doing so in perfect unison and thus no doubt underlining all the hours of training they had received ere this. Their faces grew more flushed, their nostrils pinched. One saw the effort, the desiring and the lust. I saw myself as if mirrored in their faces then-the male and female, beauty and the beast.
    “You will come on the count of forty-not before,” said Gertrude, though they must have known it well and laboured long to have achieved such, and it was said rather for the benefit of the girls than otherwise.
    The pace quickened at the call of “Thirty!” The luscious SMACK! of bottom cheeks to bellies sounded louder and more joyous even. Both Adelaide and Caroline had begun to finger their pussies openly. Their mouths hung wider and their eyes rolled up. Panting and puffing more they worked their hips. Ah, happy wickedness-I was as deep within its spell as they, lost the last threads of jealousy, and almost spouted out myself. Gertrude said afterwards that she heard me breathing, but the boys did not. Their eyes half closed, they rode up to their peaks and, at the call of forty sank their cock deep in, their buttocks tightening as they loosed their sperm, bringing a soft, pleased moan from both the girls whose fingers were as wet as were their bottomholes. I saw the glistenings on their fingertips and would have kissed and sucked them if I could, so impassioned was I at the sight.
    Gertrude allowed them all to quiver for a while with the stems still embedded, then she snapped her fingers and called out: “Out to the bathroom, wash yourselves and wait!”
    They scampered fast enough despite their liquid loss, I thought. Then the door closed upon them and Gertrude drew me out and grasped my cock as she had done those of the boys.
    “What have we here?” she laughed, and I felt myself just like a foolish boy in that warm clasp. Perhaps-as I now think-I wanted to; perhaps that is the trick of it, for I have since seen grown men trained in much the same way, sometimes by kin, sometimes by others whose paths they had too hopefully crossed.
    “Gertrude, do not tease him! How nice he was to keep so quiet! Oh, Harry, what a gentleman you are!” Caroline exclaimed, jumped up and threw her arms about me, brushing Gertrude's hand aside to hold my prick herself. I expected then to thread her and made to pull her dress up, but my hand was slapped. “Put it away, you naughty boy, or Mummy smack. Shall Mummy smack?” she laughed.
    “Shush, or the boys will hear,” said Gertrude.
    A kiss from Caroline and I buttoned up my trousers, straining my springy cock within.
    “What a lovesome thing that was!” Adelaide said, “Such lovely spurts of come-I felt them all. Oh, Harry dear, you do not mind?”
    I was about to say that I did not and was pleased to see them at the sport when a knock sounded timidly on the door.
    “Go away, you naughty boys! Wait downstairs for me,” Gertrude called and shrugged as if to say, “What a nuisance they are!”
    “What will you do with them next?” asked Caroline.
    “They are due to be milked again in half an hour, my dear. I have had them but for two months. They are doing rather well, I think. Another several weeks and I shall be more sure of them. They had a perfect treat with you. Normally I use my hands to make them come and talk to them the while-telling them their duties and so on. Young boys are prone to come too quickly when aroused. That is a tendency I have to quell, and hence the counting. As to spanking them and piddling in their mouths- that is to show them that the female is the queen.”
    “When you first began with them they must have struggled, did they not?” asked Adelaide.
    “I have known boys struggle, yes, but when they are held by two women, it is easy for one of them to make the cock to spill. Then they are quiet and can be handled easily. I am sure it was the same with you,” she added slyly, “but at least you have seen them at their major exercise now and have benefited from it. What think you, Harry? Do you deem it fair that boys should be trained as well as girls?”
    I put on a wise look that I suspect fooled none of them. The girls looked at me expectantly.
    “At that age, yes. I see no harm in it. To the contrary, like girls they are brought up to fulfill what is expected of them,” I replied, and then-having a curiosity about it myself, asked Gertrude, “How long will they be kept at their duties once they are fully trained?”
    “You may say a year at the least, Harry, and quite possibly two. Thereafter it depends in part upon Beatrice and the ladies. They may wish for a change. There is a decided preference among mature ladies of my acquaintance for youths who will obey a simple click of the fingers. If these two go their own way after a year or two, they will quickly be replaced, but my belief is that they will prefer their state of submissiveness and the pleasures that are its rewards. The ladies guard them jealously-you may be sure of that. Thus you see, my dears, such youths are quite different to their counterparts, for while both of you girls were brought up to take the cock up your bottoms and your pussies by your elders, you did not become enslaved thereby-did not submerge your pride as these two boys delight to do.”
    “How lovely to have them waiting in ones bedroom!” Caroline remarked and threw a quick glance at me, but I showed no frown to her.
    “Indeed-but you are not in need of such yet and will not be for many years, Caroline. A lady in her middling years cannot find suitors as easily as you, and certainly not two ready cocks at once, as is the case with Alfred and Roger.”
    “What pleasures Beatrice and the others must have- but do their husbands not mind?” asked Adelaide.
    “I doubt that the husbands are aware of it. The boys are quiet and well-behaved and give no outward sign of their proclivities until they are quietly beckoned by the ladies. All is very discreet. There are many pretty things done and many tricks performed. Thus, Beatrice likes to lie upon her bed, legs spread, and have her bare toes sucked by each of them while an older youth is foraging his pestle in her honeypot. She quite languishes to have that done in the quiet of an afternoon!”
    “My goodness! Do Alfred and Roger then mount her afterwards?” I asked.
    “Why, as to that, I do not know. I believe their only role at present is to suck toes while she is being pleasured,” answered Gertrude with a show of innocence.
    There was then a moment of silence. We were all aware of the boys waiting below. Besides, I rather wanted to talk with Caroline and my sister and so made the first move to thank our hostess for a delightful entertainment.
    “I am glad you call it that,” she smiled, “for it is a term that can cover a multitude of delights and which may be used in polite company without some being the wiser as to what it really means.”
    “Shall we see you milking them before we go?” Caroline asked hopefully.
    Gertrude shook her head. “I would prefer it not, my pet. I do not wish them to feel, you see, that they are on exhibition among younger folk such as yourselves. I have let them off the leash a little with yourselves this afternoon, but otherwise their training is very formal and only undertaken with older ladies, In this way they become used to a certain type of entourage, as I feel sure you will understand.”
    “Yes, of course,” the girls agreed politely, and so it was that we made our departure, not catching another sight of Alfred and Roger who were obviously concealing themselves in shyness somewhere and thus bearing out what Gertrude had said.
    “I would love to see them sucking Beatrice's toes-one at each outstretched foot when she is being pestled,” Caroline remarked as our carriage departed. Then she asked me with a twinkle in her eyes, “Would you suck mine, Harry? I imagine it must give a lovely tickly feeling.”
    “I would suck them forever more were you to consent to marrying me,” I replied so suddenly that I had no recollection whatever of gathering the words in my mind to speak them.
    “Oh, Harry! Do you mean it?” Being seated beside me, with Adelaide on the opposite seat, she threw herself into my arms and asked teasingly, “You do not think me too naughty, then, to marry?”
    I laughed with happiness against the lips that came to mine. A squeal of pleasure sounded from Adelaide. With those words, Caroline's acceptance and my own journey into marriage were sealed.


    “Now you must meet Papa and Mama-indeed all my family,” said Caroline amid the showers of words that followed and of which Adelaide was very much a part.
    Again, such is the curious nature of my being, it was exactly what I did not wish to do. Involvements fluster me, crowd in on me. Caroline has often said that had I been able to live in a hut with herself and Adelaide-hidden from the eyes of Society and venturing out only to obtain food and drink-I would have been perfectly content to do so. I for my part was quite happy to joke with her about it, saying that such a hut must have ivy around the door, a chimney, and a picket fence.
    “Of course-and with three porridge bowls, just like the Three Bears,” Adelaide would say. They humoured my eccentricities, provided they were there to guide me away from them. I did not mind. Paradise for me was to lie abed between the two, their mouths liquid to my own and their cunnies always ready for my cock. Sometimes, at Caroline's behest, we would make love silently, turning our bodies on the sheet this way and that. She was very inventive and said on the night of our betrothal that she would like to swim in a clear pool with three young girls about her who would dive between her legs and nibble and lick at her en passant.
    “And what would Adelaide like to do?” I asked of my sister, for I felt a deep contentment upon me now that the future was sealed and that I would always be at Caroline's side, while as for my sister, she said that she would never leave us and that we would remain an ever-loving trio.
    Giving herself a long moment's thought, Adelaide replied, “I would like to ride naked on a white stallion with a male rider at my rear and my cunny gliding up and down on his cock as the horse cantered gently.”
    I wondered if she had ever done that, or something very similar to that, but did not ask. My mind was in bits and pieces as to immediacies. The idea that I was to be introduced as a perfect stranger to Caroline's parents, while declaring our intent to marry, seemed to me most improper insofar as the etiquette of such matters is concerned, though Caroline was in no way disturbed about it.
    “Everything will be all right, Harry. My judgement in matters of taste is much respected. In any event, Mama is visiting us the day after tomorrow and will have the pleasure of making your acquaintance then.”
    This I did not mind so much. To meet Caroline's family in a piecemeal fashion, so to speak, suited my temperament better. As the hour for the encounter approached, so I grew more nervous, which amused Caroline and my sister much.
    “Mama is no ogre. You will soon come to cherish her,” Caroline assured me. Even so, I took a stiff whisky before the grand arrival of Lady Somner, and a deep breath when she entered the house. Upon actually encountering her, however, all my apprehensions faded as do sparks from a bonfire at night which, like tiny errant stars, flirt for a moment with the darkling air and then disappear into some otherness.
    Lady Jane Somner had not then quite reached her forty-third year, and was a striking beauty of my own stature. Her skin appeared as smooth as a girl's, her bosom fulsome, her hips lush in their out-curving. Indeed, so taken was I with her and with her gentle smile that I bowed and kissed the back of her hand as she entered the drawing room.
    “I hear naught but good of you,” were her first words to me.
    I thought for a moment to say the same, but realised that it might sound impertinent and so contented myself with a modest murmur while Caroline beamed upon us both. Then, after a short conversation, and in the usual manner of ladies, all three went upstairs to do whatever women do upon arrivals-which, so far as my experience goes, is to talk and talk and talk.
    “Mama, we have met such a remarkable lady,” I heard Caroline say as they ascended. I gawped and stood quite still. Surely she could only mean Gertrude-and yet what could she possibly have to say of her to her Mama, of all people? I listened furtively and heard Lady Somner reply with a laugh, “Why, what does she do, dear?”
    Caroline's reply was lost as they trailed along the landing above, during which time I tried with almost comic desperation to imagine what could be said and what could not, and why Caroline had mentioned Gertrude at all.
    There was laughter from the bedroom then. I heard it distinctly, but no words. Upon their re-appearance some thirty minutes later, I put on an utterly jejune air of casualness, though no sign of secrets showed in Lady Somner's face and all was such sweetness and decorum that, as night came upon us, I resigned myself to a temporary bachelor existence since it was evident that Lady Somner was to stay.
    At ten the girls retired, I receiving a chaste kiss on the cheek from both and finding myself alone with Caroline's Mama whom I offered to escort to the door of her bedroom.
    “In a while, Harry. I have a peculiar penchant in that I like to disrobe downstairs before ascending. It is a foible that I trust you will not deny me? Would you be so kind as to fetch my nightgown. I have placed it in readiness upon my bed. Be a good boy and I will kiss you goodnight very nicely.”
    Her words stunned me, but I knew from the searching look she gave me that she was in no wise joking.
    “Why, yes, of course,” I heard myself say, feeling utterly apprehensive lest I should encounter Caroline or Adelaide on the landing, though the closing of their doors had already been heard. As may be imagined, I tiptoed upstairs rather fretfully, but not without a tingling of wonderment and excitement. The floorboards creaked here and there, and once or twice in my passage I halted and heard rather the beating of my heart than anything else, taking longer about the matter than was needful.
    Finally when I descended, with a powder blue nightgown, much frilled with white lace and adorned with little white bows, over my arm, it was to find the gaslight dimmed in the drawing room, for I perceived only a soft glow emanating from the gap where I had left the door ajar. Feeling my palms moisten slightly, I entered and there beheld a sight of voluptuous glory.
    Standing in the centre of the room with her hands on her hips and her feet astride was Lady Somner. Her gown and underskirt had been discarded and lay over a chair. Through a somewhat bleared vision I saw that she was wearing nothing save a dark grey petticoat whose broad, frilled hem undulated just above the tops of her matching stockings where pink-rosetted garters circled her plump, pale thighs. Her sturdy, shapely calves were adorned by patterned black boots that reached to just below her knees. The magnificent gourds of her breasts were half revealed to me in their rising above the neckline of the petticoat where the half-moons of the large brown aureoles showed.
    “Harry, close the doors and come here,” she uttered.
    I swallowed and obeyed, knowing not whether to hand her the nightgown or to lay it down.
    “Place it at my feet and kneel before me, Harry. Do you not intend to pay homage to your future mother-in-law?”
    “Why, yes-I-that is to say…” I choked foolishly.
    “It will not be your last opportunity, but it is pleasant to savour the first,” she smiled, whereat I found myself sinking slowly to my knees within inches of her superb figure. The silky nightgown thereupon slid from my arm, but I scarcely knew it had done, for as my face came on a level with her garters, so Lady Somner delicately fingered the hem of her petticoat and ruffled it up to display to my hot eyes her thick, dark pubic bush and the pale gleaming of her belly. Her legs being apart, there was no hindrance whatever to my astounding view of her well-furred cunny whose rolled lips glistened and looked deliciously succulent.
    “Come-lick your fist lick, Harry. Many times has it been bedewed, but always is it moist for love. I am a romantic, Harry. I love to be adored.”
    So saying, she reached down, passed her right hand around the back of my head and brought my mouth up under the scented wonder of her quim, shifting her thighs the more so that their warm inner silkiness came to press lightly against my ears and the squishy lips of her cunt pressed themselves amourously upon my half-open mouth.
    “There, dear, does that not taste nice? Make your salute and lick well around and within. Clasp my bottom as you do so. Hold me tight! Ah, yes, how agile is your tongue! You have received some lessons, then? A trifle higher up now and move your tongue-tip round my spot.”
    The most heady and subtle of perfumes invaded my nostrils as I performed this astonishing salute, palming her massive bottom cheeks with a delirium of pleasure as I did so. Her thighs then quivered and clamped themselves against my ears the more, making them burn, yet I did not resent the hold. Indeed, I found excitement in it.
    “Ah, sweet boy, yes-there-exactly there! Now move your tongue about it, all around!”
    Her hips began to surge, making my head move back and forth. The undulations of her bulging bottom cheeks thrilled me to the core. I licked slavishly.
    “Ah, Harry, had you but a twin, the other could lick my bottomhole as well! I adore that to be done. “Two should clasp each other tightly, Harry, when they are ready for it. Are you ready for it? Is your cock up stiff?”
    “My God, yes!” I exclaimed in muffled fashion underneath her fur and heard her husky laugh as I sprang up, my pego bursting through my trouser cloth, but as I did so, so she clipped her swelling thighs together and pressed against my shoulders with her hands to keep my face some inches from her own.
    “No, dear, not yet,” she teased, “this is your first time with me, is it not? Undress and show me your equipment first. You have to last the night with me, you know!”
    I was berserk with desire. Perhaps such small inhibitions as had obtained in me until then were scattered to the winds. This glorious creature was yielding herself to me, and with her lovely daughter all unsuspecting and nigh asleep upstairs. Would that conscience and desire could have fought a longer battle, but there was no help for it. I, moreover, was literally being commanded to obey and did so with as glad a will as ever I had done anything before. In a trice, naked, I presented my standard to her view while she, keeping two paces from me, raised her petticoat and removed it so that her mammalian twins yielded themselves, hard-nippled, to my eyes.
    “You may kiss me, Harry, now and press your cock against my belly, for I like to feel it thus,” said she whereat I was in her arms rather than she in mine and felt the superb tingling of her swollen titties to my chest, the sly rubbing of her garters to my thighs and, above all, that indescribable intimacy that comes from two naked, warm-fleshed forms together. I clasped her nether cheeks and savoured again their richness and their subtle yielding to my fingertips.
    “Shall we to bed now?” she asked with slight amusement against my lips.
    “Let me…” I croaked, but could not bring myself to utter crudenesses against her mouth.
    “Let you what? You have not kissed my bottom yet,” she teased, then laughed a little “oooh!” as I fingered her rosette between the thrusting hemispheres. Suavely she moved her tongue against my own, breathing her warm breath into my mouth. “Sometimes we play a game, my pet. Shall I tell you what it is? One is the Master or the Mistress, and the other is obedient. Shall we toss a coin for it?”
    “I want to do it,” I moaned pettishly and worked my prick between our bellies as she pressed to me, burring her stockings all around my legs.
    “Ah, but you must know how, you see. It does not suffice, my pet, to play the two-backed beast, as Rabelais called it, without preliminaries. There is an art to love and we must all suffer a little in its cause. You have not trained a girl as yet-have you? Nor know how it is done, I bet. How would you deal with me, were I recalcitrant?”
    “I would… I would spank you,” I uttered breathlessly for the silky sheen of her skin was making me all but spill, and such would have been a sacrilege.
    “Of course you would have to; that is requisite. And when I had a hot bum then what would you do with me?”
    “I would do it with you. Let us do it now!”
    “Force me upon my back and rape me, would you? Oh, tut-tut, Harry, how very crude! Come, lie down with me upon the rug, but don't attempt me yet. Leisure rhymes with pleasure, my dear, you know!”
    “But… but Caroline…” I stammered, for as we sank upon a welcoming rug, so one of her heavy stockinged legs rose over mine and lay across them. My penis burned and throbbed against her pubic bush. Her breath clouded over my face. I felt her swollen titties and her nipple bright as thorns against my palm.
    “Caroline is already well-attended to, is she not? And Adelaide? Confess to me that you are the young rogue that I believe you are!”
    My face hung over hers and was deeply flushed both at her unexpected words and the voluptuous excitement of the moment.
    “Why, no-not Adelaide,” I stammered.
    “Modesty! It really becomes you Harry!” she laughed and moved her sultry lips this way and that under my own in the most bewitching manner while she clasped my pulsing member and ease her fingers up and down the straining rod, causing me to tremble with delight. “Have you not rodded both? Why, I believe you have. Your sister is a little coy to tell me so, and yet I see a flame deep in her eyes such as I always wish to see in pretty girls. Have you not spanked and tupped their bottoms yet?”
    “Yes, I have!” I replied fervently and made to roll upon her silken belly, but she held my member in a tighter clasp.
    “You have enjoyed them, Harry, but have not warmed their bottoms up as yet. You do not mind my frankness? Why, I'm sure you don't. Love and desiring are the freedoms that we all enjoy. How well did they present this afternoon? Come-you can tell me.”
    My Lord, it was true that Caroline had told all!
    “Let me do it with you!” I begged again and brought a silvery laugh from her.
    “Darling, you have yet to learn the art of ultimate arousal. The more we talk of it, the more will be the fever in our veins when we commence to fuck. Were the girls submissive, Harry? Truly so?”
    “Yes!” I replied in a gasp. Between words her long tongue would lick along my lips, her palm sliding under my balls to weigh and caress them. How desperately I desired to let my sperm jet forth, yet now and again she would grip my urgent member warningly.
    “Never waste your liquid treasures, Harry when a woman's lips or bottomhole or cunny wait for them. Speak with freedom! Love is shared between us all. We are bohemians in that respect. You will be the property, so to speak, of all the ladies in the household when you are married, and they in turn shall be yours. None of us wear drawers, and we are ever ready for the cock!”
    “How beautiful!” I exclaimed.
    “Yes, it is,” she murmured, “there is freedom in such things. A cock sucked dry shows no remorse, nor does a cunny bubbling to the brim with manly sperm. Sometimes, as now, you will be drawn into a woman's arms to fuck her. Sometimes you may prove yourself the master. Do you not want to do all, and enjoy us all? Claudia, my elder daughter, is delicious. Suck on my tongue and play more with my cunny as we talk.”
    “Is it all true?” I knew I had no need to ask. Saliva trickled in between our lips. Spreading her legs, she drew her knees up and began to work her bottom to my touch.
    “When the males have us, Harry, there is nothing but delight. Had you seen Caroline at her breaking-in, you would have adored her even more. How she whinnied as the birch bit into her! Then, when he mounted her and drove the peg up in between her bottom cheeks, she squealed but once, then moaned her pleasure out. Long did he throb in her before he worked it back and forth and nothing to be heard but her sweet sobs. Oh, Harry darling, yes!”
    I was upon her clipped between her stockinged legs, knob at her sticky slit and easing in.
    “Fuck me, you bad boy-fuck, oh fuck!”
    Her ruffled garters rubbed my legs. My balls slapped underneath her bottom's orb. Oh wondrous cushions of her tits on which I lay! Into the channel, tunnel of desire, the squish-squashy mouth of love, the padding curls, silk of her belly underneath my own, her nipple stiff as thorns beneath my chest, flooding of breaths and incoherent moans.
    “Hmmmm! Hmmmm! Hmmmm!” she hummed into my mouth and loosed her tickling, bubbling juice around my ensheathed rod, heels drumming on my buttocks as she did while I strove all I could not to eject my sperm upon the instant as I wanted to, but nursed my strokes and buried in, drew out, and thrust again all in a jiggling-joggling of desire.
    “Witch! Dearest! Wondrous woman!” so I choked.
    “Yes, Harry, call me what you will. Call me by wicked names-I do not mind! Ah, pump me-yes-go faster now. Come, darling-you have held it back too long. Come in me as you do in Caroline and Adelaide.”
    “You d… d… devil… ah!”
    The wrapping of her legs was strong. Rasping of stockings to my skin. Meltings of mouths-wild cries of hot desire. I felt her spill once more and yet again, then knew the fire, the ice, the tingling-tickling in my stem, urgent uncoiling of the strings of sperm that spat their way fast up my buried prick and jetted, spattered, splashed within her maw whose spongelike clasp absorbed my every pellet, spout and drop until I shuddered out my last and buried my tearful member deep in her.
    Trembling we lay in the sweetness of that moment then, her cunny gently sucking on my cock, hairs intermingling at the crotch, my balls beneath her bottoms cleft.
    “Nice, was it nice? Say it was nice,” she mouthed.
    “The best fuck that I ever had,” I moaned and felt it almost to be true, cradled upon her lush and fulsome form.
    Her legs slipped down. She lay with them apart and with her eyes half-closed.
    “Keep your balls up to my bottom, for I like it so. Can you feel me squeezing on your prick?”
    “Yes-it's delicious. Do it-do it more.”
    “You will get stiff again, and soon enough. Take me upstairs. The bed will be softer for our labours there.”
    “But, but Caroline may hear,” I murmured, drawing slowly out of her, my prick half stiff and still a tingle in the stem.
    “We are used at home to all such sounds, Harry, and you will learn that soon enough. Come-bring my clothes and yours. Hold underneath my bottom as we go. Pretend that you are leading me to sin,” she giggled softly as I knelt and drew her up.
    “I am,” I laughed.
    “No, dear-to pleasure. Sin is pain. We do not wish to know of that. Are we ready for our little trip? Tread softly and they'll hear us not-if you do not wish Adelaide to know.”
    “I do not mind,” I said, but she knew it then to be untrue and helped me bundle up our clothes into my arms.
    “You cannot hold my bottom now, but you may upstairs,” she laughed, and thus we took ourselves, transformed across the passage of the hours as now we were and henceforth would remain.


    Chastened by conscience, chased by memories, I descended in the morning hollow-eyed-the last to rise. The girls were up, and Lady Somner, too. Her ripeness bloomed, but I have found it always is with females that they appear from lustful beds into the light of day as roses opening out beneath the sun.
    “What a nice young man he is!” she smiled at Caroline, and I-remembering how my prick had been buried up between her ample bottom cheeks upon the tousled bed-blushed and felt confounded, knew not where to put my face.
    “Mama was nice to you-I said she would be so,” Caroline said to me in the morning room when breakfast was done and lay full and warm in us. “I trust you were very nice to her,” she added with such a twinkle that a blush engorged my cheeks. “Well?” she asked abruptly when I did not immediately reply, but then on seeing my expression she cast her arms about my neck and laughed and said, “You are so funny, Harry! Did you get on well?”
    The double entendre was all but inescapable. I was about to choke out something when my sister entered the room and closed the door and leaned against it. How curiously I felt that there was both reproach and high excitement in her look!
    “I believe he did, the rascal,” she exclaimed and then immediately ran and pressed her lips to mine, almost as if to say, “But you are ours!” So warm and loving was the pressure of her lips, so yielding her slim form to mine, that I embraced her fondly, fearing perhaps what she might fear and wishing-despite her wickedness of the day before-to reassure her. Even as I did so, I felt Caroline move behind me and take hold of the shoulders of my jacket which I had not buttoned, and I wondered at it, thought it merely playful and encouraging of our embrace. At the next, however, Adelaide stepped back, though kept her arms looped round my neck and gazed at me with a lovely sparkling smile while Caroline suddenly pulled my jacket smartly down behind, full off shoulders, and so trapped my arms.
    “Mama!” she called to my bewilderment, and Adelaide even looked astonished, too.
    Lady Somner immediately appeared and closed the door behind her with a click.
    “Is he not a darling?” she asked.
    “Caroline-stop it!” I blurted, but felt a fool to struggle and stood with my arms pinned by my own coat.
    Adelaide looked bewildered and dropped her arms, being joined then by Lady Somner.
    “Let us have his trousers down. I want to have a daylight look,” said Lady Somner to my utter dismay, and the which brought a squeak from Adelaide.
    “No, I say! Really!” I blustered, but all was lost. I dared not kick nor flail my arms, and no sooner had the words left my lips than Caroline's Mama had grasped my balls through my trouser cloth and caused me to stiffen both my legs and gasp.
    “Be quiet, dear. Adelaide, unbutton him and get it out.”
    My sister had stepped back and seemed to know no more than I where to look.
    “Please, dear-I wish you to,” said Lady Somner, bringing my sister to run her tongue across her lips. What look passed between them I did not know nor see, but then she came forward and groped at me as Lady Somner's fingers fell away. I had begun to stiffen then; I could not help myself. As Adelaide's fingers touched my buttons so my pego rose the more. She gulped and would not look at me. Then came her fingertips within the growing gap and out my stiff prick came into the light, I blushing like a choirboy at my exhibition to them all while Lady Somner once again approached and put her arm round Adelaide's slim waist.
    “Have you sucked him, Adelaide?” she asked.
    My sister's cheeks were crimson and she shook her head. Caroline had, but Adelaide had not. Though Caroline had often tried to make her do so, she had always averted her lips from my glowing knob.
    “I don't…” Adelaide began and blushed the more.
    “You must, dear-sometimes. It is excellent for the complexion, and besides there will be other gentlemen in future who will desire your service in doing such. Bend down and take it in your mouth.”
    “Ah, no!” I jerked, but was ignored. Caroline dragged on my jacket harder and so held me tight. Adelaide seemed mesmerised. She made to bend, then stopped, but Lady Somner laid her hand upon her back and pressed her gently.
    “Do it as I say,” she murmured.
    “Will you spank her, Mama, if she does not?” Caroline laughed and I feeling already the first warm breath from Adelaide's sweet lips around my knob.
    “Exactly as I have done with you, dear, yes,” came the cool reply, and then her hand pressed Adelaide the more and suddenly a mouth soft as a flower, warm as the early sun, enclosed my knob and sucked it in, the swollen plum upon the sleeking tongue causing me to quiver in an augue of desire. Relentless then was Lady Somner-goddess of my dreams the night before. Gripping the nape of my sister's neck, she caused her to draw in three inches more the while that with a movement of her other hand she drew up Adelaide's broad skirt and bared her bottom to the room.
    My sister snuffled, gasped, upon the throbbing of my stiffened cock. Again she made to rise, again was held and made to hold the juicy stem within her mouth while Lady Somner's finger worked between her bulbing nether cheeks and, as I sensed, urged up into her bottomhole.
    More splutterings from Adelaide, the breathings through her nose becoming louder. I felt her sucking more upon my prick. How warm and moist and succulent it was within her mouth!
    “Move your cock, darling-let her take it,” murmured Caroline and sensed that she had less need to hold me then. Indeed, she severed her grip upon my coat, came beside me and laid her head upon my shoulder, whispering, “It's nice. Look how she works her bottom to Mama's finger.”
    I was by then lost to the adorable sensations of having my prick sucked by my sister. Conscience fled once more that she had mayhap been forced to it. Hunching my coat back up, I took her head in gentle grip and knew that any second I would come, urging my tool in-out along her tongue. She, after all, had yielded her bottom full before me. This was but a simple act beside that one. I ruffled her hair, half closed my eyes, uttered her name. Her hips squirmed and her bottom wriggled more.
    “Give her all, Harry. Let her learn the taste,” said Caroline and turned my face and brought my mouth to hers.
    I, at gasp's end, embraced her with one arm. My wettened cock slid more furiously back and forth, was drawn upon, was sucked upon in that amazing, lewd quartet, as was my tongue in Caroline's sweet-coaxing mouth. I screwed my eyes up, grasped more deeply into Adelaide's brown hair and juddered, shuddered, quivered out a leaping jet that flooded in my sisters mouth and was succeeded by another and another while she choked and swallowed, choked and squirmed, until my sperm-rod slipped from out her lips and bubbled in its passage down her chin. Then, bleary-eyed, I watched her unbend, turn and huddle into Lady Somner's arms.
    “You sillikins, you had done everything but that,” the lady murmured to her and then led her slowly out, head bent and stumbling as she went, I stepping, weakly backwards, falling on a sofa seat.
    “Oh, Harry!” Caroline fell beside me and embraced me warmly once again, her fingers toying with my limp and sticky prick, her mouth pressed warmly to my neck. “Mama is naughty, but you do not mind-I know you don't.”
    “Why did she do?” I uttered blurrily and felt the old, sweet, sickly swirling in my loins.
    “There is no why. Not always. She has taught us that. There is no why to sun or wind or rain, she says, and so it is with love and fond desire. Adelaide will not be cross with us, I know she won't.”
    “No,” I replied cloudily and leaned back. For the moment my sister seemed to have sucked the very soul from me. In the last moments-though I said it not-she had done it more strongly than ever Caroline had done, even to the last weak spurts she had absorbed. There was a silence. Caroline kissed my cheek. I felt apprehension in her that I might upbraid her, but I had no will to do so, nor had need. Indeed, I turned my face, kissed her with passion, stroked her hair. “You devil,” I remarked, “you told your Mama all-including Gertrude, as I know.”
    “Everything I do will be for the best, Harry,” my love said hazily against my mouth.
    “You wanted Adelaide to do that,” said I in half-accusing tone.
    “Of course. She has to do it sometime, and the first is best with you. When she is put up, it will be expected.”
    “Put up?” I echoed.
    “Darling, yes. All the females in our house are put up sometimes-just for fun.” She nuzzled her nose into my neck beguilingly and tickled underneath my prick.
    “Including you, of course,” I said stiffly and-when she did not reply-added “Is that not so? Tell the truth to me!”
    “Yes, it is true. It shall be true of Adelaide as well when you and I are wed. You will be there, my pet, to have your pleasure as you will. After yesterday-after last night-I thought we were all free to do just as we will. Oh, what a silliness to make a fuss after all that we have done and said!”
    It was true. I had no reply to that. Adelaide had allowed me to fuck and bugger her freely. The fact that she had been made to do what she would surely have done sooner or later was neither here nor there. And besides, she had initiated my own wickedness with her.
    “Well, Harry? What say you-or do you wish us to part?” I heard.
    “Oh heavens, no!” The idea was anathema. Shamefacedly and yet with eagerness to still indulge myself, I held her tight. “It is because… because I don't want to see you doing it with anyone else,” I muttered.
    “I shall ignore that, Harry dear-I really shall. That is the romantic speaking in you-not the one who watched me yesterday, and well you know it, it excited you to see my bottom wriggling to a cock. Had Gertrude not been there, you would have fucked me afterwards and called me naughty names, but loved me still. I know you well enough by now, my lad, I do!”
    I grinned. I could not help myself. “Even so,” I uttered foolishly, but had no words to follow those.
    “We shall all go to my home today. That will be nice, will it not, Harry?”
    Caroline rose and went to the window where she stood with pensive stance and appeared to be contemplating the future rather than the view.
    “If you wish,” I said. I knew not really how to comport myself. Such openness as had occurred astonished me.
    “Yes, I do,” came the simple reply, “and you must not be cross with me, ever in the whole world, you understand?”
    I nodded and embraced her once again. We stood like children in the rain, huddled to one another, silent for a moment with our thoughts.
    “I do love you, Harry. Your desires are mine and mine are yours, and ours are Adelaide's. Say you agree!” she said at last.
    “I do.” I felt both strength and weakness in me. If there were guilt, it was my own as much as hers. She knew that I had feted her Mama and thought it quite a usual thing, it seemed. My arm entwined around her waist, we moved into the drawing room, but found it empty. From upstairs, I heard a little moaning sound that came from Adelaide and started forward to the stairs, but Caroline seized at my arm.
    “No, Harry, no! She is being pleasured, that is all. Mama adores to deal with pretty girls. Of course, you may go up if you want.”
    Her voice invited, but her eyes said no.
    “There is no need,” I said, and then she smiled an angel's smile.
    “I shall be your Mistress today. Tomorrow you may be the Master. Shall we have it so?” she asked.
    Upon the edge of a tall cliff I stood, and knew I did.
    “Yes,” said I, and so we stood and kissed.
    And Adelaide whimpered softly up above.


    We were to depart immediately after lunch, I learned. There was packing to be done. Caroline disappeared upstairs. I, left alone, heard all their bustling and then Adelaide descended slowly on her own. She wore a simple dress of white with a broad blue bow tied tightly round her waist and a matching ribbon in her hair. Seeing me, her eyes looked haunted. When I took her hand it was as moist as was my own. The feeling of her lips upon my prick still haunted me. I wondered if it haunted her.
    “It was nice,” I said, and kissed her lustrous mouth.
    “Was it?” she asked shyly and bowed her head. The tips of her breasts just touched my chest. I felt her all a-quivering. A lewdness and a tenderness were both upon me as I touched her hips and felt around her bottoms warmth.
    “Will you ever suck my prick again?” I asked.
    “Yes-if you want.” Raising her chin, tip of her tongue to mine. Her eyes looked hazed. “Oh, Harry, she says I will be fucked tonight!” Face hiding in my shoulder and her hands a-clutch. I palmed her globe and brought her tummy into mine.
    “D'you want to be?”
    Her head shook quickly. “Harry, I don't know. I feel so funny-frightened and yet not. Do you?”
    “No, sillikins, of course I don't! What is to fear? Would you have rather stayed in the little hut we joked about?”
    I felt the tingling of a fear-thrill as I spoke. Despite her marriage and our jousts, she was a fledgling, so I told myself. The romantic streak was broadening yet again in me, or so Caroline would have said, and yet withal my prick was eager to repeat its tasks, her belly yielding softly into mine so that I knew us both as hypocrites and libertines who wish to hide their sins beneath the shades of night.
    “She is my lovely little girl!” came then the voice of Lady Somner who advanced on us, her footsteps previously unheard. “And what a bottom she has! Oh, so round and marble-smooth, so tight. I have told her she may have a pageboy if she wishes it. Have I not, Adelaide?”
    With that she was turned from me and taken into Lady Somner's arms. I watched her cuddle in protectively, or so she liked to show her stance. Visions of the two youths swam before my eyes.
    “A pageboy, yes,” repeated Lady Somner and held her arms around my sister's shoulders close. “You see, my dears, all is provided for your pleasures, and we make no bones on it. Adelaide will live with us as surely as you will, Harry. She will be feted grandly and will have her fill of love. Come, Harry, pour some wine and let us have a toast to it.”
    Was I a scullion so to be commanded? But I did not mind. Adelaide released herself and Caroline came down, floating her way across and to my side and helped me pour.
    “Adelaide will train her pageboy, will you not?” she asked my sister merrily. Then, handing the glasses to the other two, she stood with them and asked, “Here are your three ladies, Harry. Which will you first have?”
    “Caroline, you are very naughty,” I exclaimed, but could not help but laugh. And nor could Adelaide, though she tried to hide her eyes by drinking quickly.
    “You think it good of me to be so, Harry, and you know you do. Confess it, for I wish Mama to hear.”
    “Oh, Caroline, really…” I began, and received a flashing of her eyes. “If you are not too much so,” I added lamely.
    “Ah! A compromise! Well, we shall see. Mama dear, tell him what you think.”
    “Harry, my dear, our ways may seem to you strange, but such and such it is, as I have told your sister. In houses all around are males who lord it over ladies, but I long determined it would not be so in mine.' I concede, of course, that women must submit, but there are times when they must take the lead and show themselves not foolish and not weak. Thus, as to Adelaide, she will receive her pageboys cock at her own leisure-as she will- or she may dandle it and tease it up and leave it standing as her little toy. But there will come moments when she in turn must be attended on, may have her bottom spurred and drawn on to a heftier, more mastering tool so that a man may show himself her stallion. So it shall be and has been with dear Caroline, and both my other daughters, too. As to yourself, you know the game-to play the Master or to be submissive when it pleases us. Is that not so, Adelaide?”
    “Eh? Well, I…”
    “Yes, Mama, she knows it is.” Thus Caroline who moved to my sister's side, touched at her arm and kissed her cheek. “Do you not?” she murmured to her and my sister flushed, stared at the carpet, nodded, bit her lip and looked the schoolgirl part as was her wont when shy.
    I had thought of them-of she and Caroline-as loving toys until that moment, thought of them as legs and tits and bulbing bottoms, furry nests, as loving kin who had no will that was not in great part my own.
    “It is a game,” I said. I heard my own voice say the words.
    “A game, yes. One that we respect. I am your Mistress, dearest, am I not today?” said Caroline, but made no move to me. I gazed at Lady Somner and my sister. All was still. To show my pretended insouciance, I emptied first my glass and then said “Yes.” The sound was a plum that swelled within my throat.
    “Then come to me. Come, Harry, come!”
    Again I wished to show my independence, but it could not be. I placed my glass down slowly and then walked to her, a foolish smile emergent on my lips. As I approached so Caroline thrust out one arm and took my nose and tweaked it hard. I yelped. She held to it and made me feel a fool, a crablike clown who knew not how to stand while to my horror Adelaide put on a look of mild amusement at my plight.
    “Yeeek!” I squealed.
    “A gentleman does not fight a lady, Harry-that's the trick of it, or part of it. I am your dominant. Say that I am!”
    “You are my… my… my dominant,” I gasped. A fearful thrill was in me that I did not wish to have, to be handled so, to be handled so.
    “Yes,” Caroline said simply and released my nose, then added, “Adelaide may do it, too, today. Today she is your Mistress, too, you know. Show your obeisance to her, Harry. Kiss her feet. Such pretty little feet she has!”
    I could not refuse-knew that I dare not do. I had permitted Caroline to hold me so. I had not gripped her arm, struck it away. Besides, there were greater subtleties to it all that came to me. Adelaide had been forced to give lip-service to me. If I did not kneel, I would insult her. Thus, before all three I knelt and pressed my mouth upon her toes whose wriggling I could feel beneath the slippers that she wore. I heard a kiss above and then I rose, swaggered away, but knew not how to be.
    “Harry-next time you do not rise until you are told to rise. You understand?” came then from Lady Somner, though her voice was quiet.
    “Oh yes. Oh yes, the game, of course,” I answered very casually.
    At that she rose and sauntered to me swaying her broad hips, confronting me, tits looming to my chest.
    “Girls are put to gentlemen, Harry, frequently, and that is very properly so. Contrariwise, though gentlemen are sometimes put to girls, and in whatever way the girls should chose. Whatever way. Make sure you mark my words. The rules must be observed, you understand?”
    I flushed deeply to be reprimanded so. I believe I wished to both strike her and embrace her at the same moment. Adelaide was staring at me, finger in her mouth.
    “Of course,” I replied stiffly, and Lady Somner sighed and shook her head. “The game is Life, Harry. Do you not understand? Well-soon enough you will. Come, girls, we will depart. Harry, you will ride with Adelaide, and I with Caroline in the other carriage.”
    Dumbly I followed, though I shrugged at Adelaide as if to say, “I do not care.” The valises were transported and we sat within. The carriage smelled of summer days with many motes of dust a-dancing like tiny moths between the bleared-glass windows.
    “Kiss me,” I murmured as we started off. I made to take her lips. She turned her head away.
    “No, Harry, no-don't want to, don't-not now.”
    “Why do you not?” I tried to force her, wished to have my way with her to show I was not craven, nor would ever be.
    She squeaked, she giggled, pressed against my chest and would not offer up her mouth. “No, Harry, no-I am your Mistress for today; you heard it said. So I will not- so there!” Hands smacking mine-into the corner of the carriage then she slumped.
    “It is silly. Why do as they say? You were different just before-when we were in the drawing room alone.”
    “I know, but… Harry! Ooooh! oh! ah!”
    I caught her, held her as I wished, tilted her face by force beneath my own and mashed my lips to hers. At first she spluttered, clawed at me, but then subsided, took my tongue.
    “You said you will be fucked tonight.”
    “I know.” Sweet wet of her own tongue within my mouth.
    “Don't want you to be,” I mumbled, roughed her skirt up, felt her thighs.
    “Nooo-don't!” she moaned but then began to breathe more heavily as I reached my fingers to her quim and eased her warm-flesh thighs apart.
    “You will be and you'll let him, won't you?”
    “Yes,” eyes rolling up she pushed her bottom forward on the seat and spilled a trilling, salty spill over my finger-tips, laced them with wet, wriggled her bottom madly and then came again, and I wonder at her hot response, my cock stiff as a flagpole as she worked her hips. But then alarms! A bump of wheels, a coachman's shout, and the carriage of Lady Somner came alongside ours, the window down, she staring full within upon our amourous scene. Her fingers waggled once as we both stared and Adelaide tried to thrust her skirt down once again. Too late, too late.
    “You naughty girl! You will be caned for this!”
    Her voice rang full across and then her coach receded once again and followed in our wake.
    “Oh God!” cried Adelaide and then began to sob.


    I knew not how to think as we arrived, and no more did Adelaide perhaps. Caroline exuded only happiness. In the hallway of her house where the glass eyes of the stags' heads gazed into eternity, she squeezed my hand in the manner of a child arriving at a party. Adelaide walked on ahead, accompanied by Lady Somner. She held her back straight and her shoulders square. I loved her muchly in that moment, proud and graceful as her carriage was.
    “Surely your Mama did not mean…” I whispered to Caroline who did not permit me to end the sentence, but knew well enough what I meant.
    “Dearest, 'twill only be twelve strokes with the cane, or six if she is very good,” she answered.
    Alarm filled me. I confess it. Was Caroline's nature after all so like to a chameleon's skin that she could change from honeyed words to such a cool appraisal of castigating poor Adelaide's bare bottom?
    “But I cannot permit!” I uttered all too feebly, whereat I was shushed, my hand squeezed tighter. Lady Somner and my sister had preceded us already into the drawing room. I heard a gruff but cultured voice, the ownership of which I did not doubt, no more than did my love.
    “Come, you must meet Papa,” she said, and led me in to make my first acquaintance with her sire-a man of goodly stature with a goatee beard who greeted me most courteously.
    “You are to marry Caroline,” he said with some abruptness.
    “If I may, sir, yes.”
    “I have no doubt you may and that you will, if such she wishes. Come-let us have a toast to it.”
    I felt as though I had been shuffled into a new life, just as a card is shuffled in a pack. All was a whirl, a swirl, yet done with grace. Caroline kissed her Papa-then Adelaide was drawn to do the same. He kissed them both upon the mouth and with no undue haste, thus causing my sisters eyes to look confused before she was drawn down on an ottoman to sit with Lady Somner who remarked immediately on her prettiness.
    “And a perfect figure, insofar as I can see. You will stay with us, my dear? Have you played games today?” Lord Somner asked, running the sentences so closely into one another that they seemed as one.
    “Masters and Mistresses-or rather, we made a beginning to it, Arnold. Adelaide is of course not fully tutored yet,” replied his wife, whereat my sister received amid her blushes another full appraisal from his eyes which swept up from toes to head. I thought him about to speak to her, but instead he turned to me.
    “You believe in tuition, Harry,” I was asked.
    “Indeed he does, Papa. We all are keen to learn,” said Caroline while I sat dumb. I wished myself both there and yet a thousand miles away, as often was my nature then. I thought of the “hut,” our jokes thereon, and wished us there in all our secret lovings and in our pleasures.
    I was then fixed with a piercing glance from our host as if in sorrow that I had not spoken. I felt a lack in me that I had not.
    “The fact is, dear fellow,” he began, and then appeared quite ludicrously to become aware of the presence of the ladies for the first time and asked if we might be excused. At that, Lady Somner rose and drew Adelaide up with her, saying it was natural that we wished to talk alone and that they would show Adelaide to her room and make her acquainted with the house. I thought my sister then to throw me a most appealing glance, shifted uneasily, rose at their exit and then sat down again to have my glass refilled. There was to be more solemn talk of marriage now, I thought.
    “Harry, it is said that all females are, like cats, grey in the dark, but I have never found either of the species so,” Lord Somner began and then went on, “The truth of the matter is that there are the willing and unwilling, the sleek of figure and the plump. There are women whose bottoms are like well-filled balloons and whose breasts are heavy- needing the support of stays and such. Such are invariably well-furred between their thighs and wriggle to the merest touch. There are-contrariwise-the younger slimmer girls, such as your sister, such as Caroline. Their bottoms are like polished apples and their breasts are pumpkins, swollen up with promise. Their nests are often tighter and their curls more crisp. It is delightful to feel them when they come fresh from a bath, their cunny-hairs brushed up and dried, but the lips beneath a little moist with joy. Their mouths are fresher, though at times more shy. When such, they must be conquered, must they not?”
    I swallowed some wine and wiped my mouth. I felt it best not to reply. I had not expected such and knew not what to say.
    “You agree, dear chap? Well-excellent! It shows advancement for your age. Now, as to our little games, I will tell you this. The ladies-and indeed the girls whom they have helped to nurture-fancy themselves as playing the dominant Mistress over us sometimes. This I do not mind, odd as it may seem to you. It brings the pecker up. Yet the secret of the little matter is that we are the Masters all the time, and well they know it! In reality the games are a disguise to nourish and bring on desire where otherwise it might prove shy. You follow me?”
    “Sir? I, yes…I believe I do.” I watched him rise and pace around the room.
    “Your dear sister, now. She has committed some small peccadillo, has she not? I take my lady's word upon the point. Maybe she did it to attract attention to herself. In any event, she has to be inducted here as all young ladies are who stay beneath our roof. The compensations are such, however, that she will not refuse, I know. I understand she sports well. Is that so?”
    I gulped; I blushed, and choked out simply, “Sir…?”
    “You have no need to answer me, dear boy. A gentleman does not speak directly on such points as concern those close or dear to him. One does not speak of females, young or more mature, as chattels-they are far too precious, are they not? But women are sly, dear boy: they weigh the pros and cons. They squeal oftimes, may even struggle. Do not be dismayed at that; do not withdraw the lordly prick, but watch their eyes. They always signal the true pleasure they obtain. I may attend upon your sister now?”
    “But, sir, I…”
    “At the last, dear Harry, watch her eyes. The caning of her bottom will be light, I promise you.”
    “But if it should pain her overmuch…”
    “Dear Harry, one has always that in mind. A young girl's bottom possesses richer layers than that of the male. There is a great art to the application of the cane, the birch, the strap-as you will learn. The object is to sting, to spur, to bring them on. How happily you will observe her pleasure afterwards!”
    He moved then to the door. I could not help but follow. How bizarre it seemed, and yet I followed up. The silk wall-coverings were blue and gave a soft tone to the air, the banisters high-polished and the carpets thick. Moving along the landing we encountered Lady Somner who appeared from a bedroom wherein I heard some fretful though quiet sounds from Adelaide.
    “All is prepared, Arnold. The girls are ready. Harry- come with me. Into our camera obscura, as I call it, though it is not really so, but gives the finest view.”
    I was a mannikin, I felt. My hand was taken like a child's. While her husband advanced upon the bedroom where Adelaide and Caroline were, I was led into a small adjoining room wherein were chairs, an ottoman, wine bottles, glasses on a rosewood stand. The door closed.
    “You will see all from here, Harry. Have no dismay upon the matter, for your sister will enjoy. Kneel up the ottoman. Now-look!”
    So saying, Lady Somner pressed a small black button in the wall and drew quite noiselessly to one side a long panel so artfully contrived that it split the wall-covering without a crease and permitted a view into the bedroom, the gap being but an inch in width, but quite enough to show a panoramic view. There within I saw a double bed, the end of which faced the wall. Upon it, covering her face, sat Adelaide, stripped to her gartered stockings and her little boots. Beside her, with an arm around her waist was Caroline who looked equally bewitching in a small black guepiere, or waist corset, above the lace of which her nipples peeped. As usual, she wore no drawers and, her legs being slightly apart, I saw her muff. Her stockings, too, were black and gartered tight. Instead of boots she wore small mules whose toes turned up like Turkish ones. In her left hand she held a cane that lay across my sister's thighs. At the entry of her Papa, she smiled and moved the cane like a bow across a violin. As to Adelaide, she covered up her face.
    “She has promised to be good, Papa.”
    “Oh, Caroline, I…”
    “Why, darling, shush! You promised and you know you did. Stand up and show Papa your bottom. Turn around!”
    “No! Oh!”
    How ruthless was my love in making her obey! Swift as a tigress so she hauled up Adelaide and spun her round to show her polished globe. In the same moment, Lady Somner kneeled beside me on the ottoman and ran her hand round my trouser front.
    “Be not dismayed, Harry. Her bottom was indulged while you were still in innocence,” she murmured. Before I could reply, she turned my face to hers and sleeked her tongue within my mouth while fingering my buttons at the front and drawing out my tool into her hand. “She was exercised before, Harry, as she is about to be. You know it well, I think, so do not make a sound.”
    With that, I could not help myself and sucked upon her tongue. My prick was iron-hard in a trice. I thought of Adelaide returning from her ridings in the past and going flushed into the bath, sperm floating on the water from her rosy hole, as no doubt it did from Bertha's, too.
    In such moments I am weak-becoming sightless in excitement. In those seconds my entire vision was filled by the perfumed blur of Lady Somner's face, her heavy-lidded eyes, the silken lashes that tickled to my cheeks, the mountainous tits that sought the lewd caressing of my palm, and which they now received.
    “Neee-yeeek!” I heard from Adelaide and tried to tear my mouth away from the engaging one. How perfectly I fell into the trap, so doing, for Lady Somner was then able to upbraid me for my apparent eagerness to watch my sister being caned.
    “No, Harry dear, not yet. Wait till her bottom's striped a little more,” she breathed, thus as it were admonishing me for the apparent impatience of my lewd desires while in my ears also sounded an ensuing cry of “thoooo-wah!” from my sister, for whom I feared. Not until another quavering screech rent the air was I permitted to take my view again, whereat the door to our secret room opened and Caroline slid in. I did not turn to look at her, however, for my eyes were utterly absorbed upon the bedroom scene.
    Adelaide, her thighs pressed to the rolled side of the bed, her legs apart, was bowed right down, face cupped within her palms and bottom rearing up, its marble whiteness streaked with pink where the fierce cane-as I then thought of it-had seared. Behind her, slightly to one side, stood Lord Somner, cane in hand, his trousers bulging at the front. Even as I watched he skimmed her wriggling bottom once again-and note, dear reader, I say skimmed, for thus it was. The motion of the punitive instrument (though I observed it not finely and had it shown to me afterwards) was that of sleeking across the polished hemispheres rather than striking deep into the sensuously-wriggling orb they formed.
    “Noo-noo-nooo!” sobbed Adelaide, her lovely tight bottom rotated much as does a small ball when placed on top of a fierce jet of water, her hips swivelling as though she were striving to shake off the dire stinging of the cane.
    How cowardly I felt-for again I wished to shout out, “No!” in echoing of my sisters own sweet, plaintive cries, but already my ardent stem throbbed out in the enclosing palm of Lady Somner, and with some faint squeaking of the ottoman I was joined on the other side by Caroline who boldly opened up the gap the more through which we peered, for she knew well enough that my sister would give no attention to the distant wall. Her palm engaged my balls and drew them out the while her mother frigged my cock.
    “How well she does, Mama, does she not?” asked Caroline in quite a breathless tone.
    “Indeed she does-just as I knew she would, my pet.”
    Already I wanted to come, but I gritted my teeth and held back my spermaceous flow. Their cheeks-warm-velvety-both pressed to mine. I knew nothing so lewd before, nor nothing so exciting as this was. My breathing sounded coarsely, as did theirs. Groping Lady Somner's skirt, I rolled it up and felt her large, plump bottom naked to my hand-my other being already engaged under Caroline's sweet globe and, with reaching fingers, feeling both their twats.
    “Whee-hee-heee!” squealed Adelaide, for the cane appeared to meet her harder then and made her heated bottom writhe the more. Its cheeks were strawberries and cream and looked as luscious as they ever did.
    “One more, and then Papa will cork her,” came from Caroline.
    No sooner had she spoken than “zeee-aah!” sounded from Adelaide whose glowing orb received the fiercest and most biting sweep that caused her back to arch, her head to rise, both hands pressed down upon the counterpane.
    “Down, Girl! Head and shoulders down!” barked Lord Somner who, without ado, cast down the cane and ripped his trousers open at the front, displaying to our view a massive prick thick as the handle of a garden broom and twice as long as Adelaide's slim, opened hands. At that her hips were clamped in his strong grasp and motionless were held as his stiff tool approached her hot-seared cheeks, the swollen crest urging between the riven hemispheres.
    “Nooo-ah! Oh, it's too big, too big!” shrieked Adelaide whose titties swung, her torso twisting while he nubbed it deeper in, we viewing all in profile-the thick, throbbing stem engaged between her pink-scorched, cheeks. I watched her teeth distinctly grit, her eyes roll up, her head shake madly-all to no avail. He held her as an eagle holds a smaller bird and then-succeeding in engaging her tight nether hole-clamped tightly on her neck with his right hand and held her head down while he urged it in.
    “Goo-ah! Goo-ah! Oh, no!” my sister choked. Her eyes bulged, hands clawed, but by then Lord Somner had sunk his yearning tool half in and thus with straddled legs he stood, his trousers slipping down to show his trundle-like thighs, his swollen balls.
    A burbling came from Adelaide. Her shoulders sank the more, her bottom seemed to rear to him as if in abject surrender to his lordly whim.
    “There, my girl, you are taking cock where all young ladies should,” he croaked.
    “Oh, no more, please-oh sir!” and yet her cry was softer then, he standing statue with his prick half up her stricken bottom.
    “Quiet now! You'll learn discretion thus! Were your Mama here, would you make alarms?” he growled at her-this admonition seeming to confuse my sister who fell quiet save for her intermittent sobs. Another inch she then received in her tight hole. Her face turned sideways and her eyes seem quite to stare into my own, though in all truth she saw naught, as she afterwards confessed. Or rather, saw naught but her own lewd dreams, as I suspected. “Give me your bottom, girl. Come now-or you'll receive the cane again. How else can you be trained?” he croaked.
    “I… Oooh! Oooh! oh! gar-haaar!” came then from Adelaide, for with one mighty surging of his powerful hips, he corked her to the full and held her bottom cheeks pulsating, wriggling to his flesh, bringing a moaning cry from her, whereat he was then still again and indeed was “stilling” her as I learned it was called. Without restraint I then inserted a digit in each of the bottomholes that were at that moment prey to my own hands, receiving from both Lady Somner and my own dear love and eager, husky “Yes!” in full accord. Indeed, their hips surged back and forth, my balls rolling on the palm of Caroline while her libertine Mama caressed my horny prick.
    “Did you not hear our moans, our cries?” I asked my sister afterwards. Naive as the question was, I failed to comprehend the utterly overwhelming sensations she had endured.
    “I saw naught, I heard naught save for my own moans. I scarce knew where I was, Harry. I had not taken a prick as big in my bottomhole for years.” She blushed and dropped her head and still was timid-to tell me all, and yet I knew. I recall our sitting on the bed together-that is to say, the one she had afterwards been accorded. I recall stroking her cheek and bringing her soft lips again and again to my own in the sweetest of kisses. I recall caressing the polished gourds of her tits whose nipples remained stiff and eager for hours after she had once been put to her trials by cane and cock. Once more, indeed, for she confessed to me at last that it was Papa who had first cleaved her bottom cheeks after bringing the crop to her bare bottom and then stilling her by burying his penis slowly in her wriggling bottom.
    “How badly you will think of me,” she sobbed, but I- a little wiser then-sensed that odd mixture of mutiny and surrender that brings so many girls to yield to the insurgent sperm, the throbbing rod of flesh to which their satiny globes must yield.
    “You minx-you enjoyed it.” I chided her tenderly. She laughed despite herself and allowed me to bear her back and urge myself between her stockinged legs.
    “I suppose you did it with Caroline while you were watching,” she rejoined.
    “You enjoyed it,” I repeated, determined to be the victor.
    “Perhaps I did.” A low gasp from her. By then my cock was already slipping upwards into the oily, silky recesses of her cunny whose walls gripped my cock spongily as if they had never received one before. “It feels rude,” she said, “but lovely once it's right up and you get u… u… used to it… Oh, Harry!”
    Our tongues were licking out their love-game once again. We had been left alone to our pleasure by the Somners and by Caroline. There were dreams, desires, we did not speak of even in the bout. The best are always hidden in the mind and are as condiments to fleshly bliss. “That which cannot be spoken of, or is expressed only in broken, tattered words, is always the best of it,” so Caroline has truly said. The images form, are tenuous as silk scarves in the breeze, are butterflies, will not be caught nor rendered into words, for words are frozen things, are but the coinage of desire and may be freely interchanged, whereas desires are convoluted and will not uncoil to trap themselves within an alphabet.
    “The only dictionary of love is in the eyes. The lonely and uncared for pick at cobwebs in the night, and cobwebs have no pages. Such a nonsense are my words, and yet you'll find them true.”
    The words were Adelaide's, long after we had entered into this strange life.


    Miss Withers has diverted me. The selfsame one I spoke of several chapters back. Much time has intruded, of course, between the afternoon that Caroline reminded me of the lady's then imminent visit and the chapters I have written since. That which takes but an hour to read takes several weeks to write. Words joggle for attention-are dismissed or used. Some inch their way on to the paper, but are then expunged, though cunningly they lie in wait to re-emerge. I find them akin to unattractive girls whose mothers push them forward for attention under the guise of “attractive” or “desirable,” which they are not. I mean both words and girls. Better that I should write in French. It is a mellow language with a mellow sound. Amour sounds more “attractive” than does “love.” Levres are softer than are lips. Tetons pout, whereas breasts do not.
    Miss Withers' tetons pouted most desirably, as did her scrumptious bottom. Caroline chose well. Females with pear-shaped derrieres were never to our taste. The shelf that meets the spine slopes far too quickly down; cheeks do not rear when such a conformation is produced by careless Nature.
    “What an arse she has! You must use the word in writing of her,” Caroline said after the lady's departure. It was true. The word bulb came into my mind, for such her bottom is in noun and verbal form-pure white and firm, yet slightly yielding to the finger's touch. Delicious to caress, I do confess. Delighting as she does in such, my love would have me say so-hence I do.
    It was perhaps our most daring experiment-Miss Withers being thirty-two and virgin. A country virgin with a houris figure, one that should be but rarely clothed as such but always lightly veiled. For hours we caressed her. Thrice I spouted in her nether hole. She may marry, so she said. It seemed the decent thing to do. At her age, I should add. With younger maidens it is otherwise. It is known that with a sprouting of fine hairs about their cunnies and a mounding of their tits they are likely at the least to be caressed and fingered and will slowly, if not quickly yield. The quiet of houses and the sonorous hours-slow passing of the Sundays, and the days of rain when the devil finds for hands good work to do-all add to this.
    In country houses such as one desires to enter and where the atmosphere is civilised, though merry underneath, there is accord on this. When a girl is fretsome in the long slow hours of Autumn or on Summer days, she will frequently toy with herself and make herself to come. Such is observed by inference-her ripeness known, her drawers examined for the tell-tale flecks of dried desire. She may then be “taken up” and put to trials, or broken-in, as the old saying is. Better her sire should put his cock to her than some brash youth who may boast of his conquest. There is lewdness here, and yet much sweetness, too. A mother who permits her daughters to be spermed occasionally will be the happier for it, as will the girls, whose amourous cuddles are the warmer for the shaftings they receive.
    A girl may be brought to it in several ways. First-and most obviously-by the birch, the tawse, or cane, for then-though her cries be clamourous at first-it is known that she is being “seen to” and that her honey pot has begun to open to the intruding knob whose spoutings she receives. After a birching-though she thinks herself forlorn and lost-the ever-thicker sprouting of curls around her nest will receive the admiration of a tongue, legs held apart the while she bounces up and down in wonder and then finally succumbs to spill her honey.
    For several weeks she may be discreetly “taken up” to receive such attentions until her clitty has become as responsive as her bottom to the birch and the two sensations have conjoined in her to bring about a pleasure that she never knew before. It may then be that by such wiles as young females use, she will endeavour to attract more attention by indulging in some “naughtiness” or other that will call for the removal of her drawers and the application of the disciplinary instrument to which she has become most used. Thereupon she is considered cock-ready and, with her well-heated and springy cheeks held apart, will receive her first slow corking until the prick is deep within her fundament and much lewd pleasure is obtained. She has been spouted in and will not cease to want it more, becoming petulant if she is not attended to-in general, on my observations, once a week at least.
    As to the second course of action, it may be that impatience obtains on the male side and that the girl affects a ticklishness or will not be attended to with birch or tawse or cane lest she is held. And well she may be. There are often older sisters who delight in seeing such a one receive that which they once more readily surrendered to, though such case is rare. An aunt may take the girl in hand and, having birched her, tickled up her cunny, felt her bottomhole, will soon induce her to drop her drawers the more when the parental birch appears and, by example, lead her on until her first receiving of the prick leaves her desirous for the next occasion.
    Some girls sob and sob while being corked at first, while others whimper, snuffle, hide their burning faces in a pillow, their bottom cheeks first held apart by strong, broad thumbs that take no heed of, “Nooo, please don't!” Such exclamations are soon muffled, anyway. The insurgent stroking of the long, thick cock excites. The balls slap underneath their cunnies, tickle there, and help to bring surrender soon enough. “I am c… c… coming in you, love!” The magic words are heard, and she receives. The long, thick gobs of sperm are sucked within. In breathless whispers. she is praised; her bottom squeezes out the last, warm drops, “and all the world a solemn stillness holds,” silk bulb of bottom to his belly pressed, the tickings, pulsings, all enjoyed until the cork's extracted and she flops and lies in rich and trembling wonderment.
    There are girls who rebel completely and must be handled in a sterner vein which is to say that, being over-proud and haughty, they must needs be stabled, like fillies, and the tip of a long whip brought to scour their bottoms. As a rule, such girls are tall and thus gain haughtiness. They have the finest legs that show the poising of the bottom at its best, but frequently are cold of temperament and thus are difficult to bring on heat. If a single whipping does not suffice, they may be brought to tipple and thus, hopefully, will be more eager for the fray, but often then prove fractious, as if they were guarding the treasure of the realm between their bottom cheeks or where their furry nests are clenched too tight.
    Those whom life has not favoured to share in such experiences may think a cruelty obtains, but it does not. If a girl has not been put to trials, she will suffer the more for it in her marriage bed and may be put off amourous delights for life. She must be “trodden”-such is the philosophy, and one more open and more frank than other canting habits of Society. A girl will be merrier, too, for having taken cock and will know herself to have arrived and to be more free. Once she has imbibed the manly juice by both her apertures, she is not put upon nor treated like a wanton thing. Indeed, she is spoiled and feted all the more, and may thereafter put herself to such as she alone will choose, though never refusing the first prick that she enjoyed, and indeed for the first few weeks of her new life will expect to receive it daily if she can and will be taught all sorts of little tricks while remaining “under cover” of the birch which she accepts she must receive.
    Little is said of this. No lewd words are exchanged. It» is known that she is “coming on” or “coming out.”
    Her eyes obtain a softer look. She fiddles often with her dress and knows not where to put her hands; her buttocks have a heavier swing. Well-creamed as they now are, she feels the weight of them the more and feels their parting as she never did before. As to her cunny, once the pouting lips have parted to the well-knobbed tool, it is said that her garden has been watered, that her curls will grow the more, as often curiously seems to be the case, though Caroline would have it this is but a coincidence and will occur in any case when girls are at their puberty.
    Miss Withers, though… The gloss of Time is not upon the evening yet, alas. Good memories should mature as does good wine before it is unbottled. Certainly, Miss Withers had begun to mature superbly well. She had those firm and marbled breasts, that arrogant posterior on which the male mind often dwells. Timidity dwelt in her, though, as well. Our conversation over dinner was not only well-laundered but stiffly starched to boot. I saw no future in the enterprise, thought it unfruitful at the least and left them to converse while I took to my port in the seclusion of my study. “As I suggested that you should before she came,” says Caroline who will not have me claim a move of tactics such as this.
    Below, I heard their voices soft and hushed. Miss Withers was to marry-was afeared of it. To undress before a male was horror to her. My heart sank. I pondered on near ghosts of recent past: girls laughing on the lawns when skirts were upped, and those who shrieked and whom the summerhouses quick enfolded behind doors. Their muffled cries still linger on the air beneath the coarse complaining of the crows.
    An hour passed and I took up post close to the door. I was minded to regard the thing a farce, and then heard Caroline say, “Girls are birched for it, my dear. Were you not birched?”-“No, I was not. Mama forbade it. Oh!” came. from Miss Withers who most evidently had never talked this way before.
    Thus and thus the words passed, I can only add-for Caroline is very good at leading on.-“Oh, no!” was uttered by Miss Withers, and from Caroline a firm, quiet “Yes. You like the feel of it, I know you do.”
    I descended, peered over the banisters. That which I prayed to see I saw. Miss Withers lay full length on our chaise longue. My love knelt by her side and licked the nipples which she had exposed. The glory of those tits- how firm they were! Miss Withers legs showed shapely, strong, up to her garters. And beyond. Beyond I glimpsed the fulsome gleam of flesh, the swellings where her garters bit. Her head, in a dismay of self-indulgence, moved from side to side, yet not uneagerly she allowed her thighs to spread until, with dress upswept by Caroline's deft hands, I saw the shadowed plumpness of her motte.
    A foolhardiness it would have been to have disturbed them then. Two females at play are a lovesome thing to see. That Caroline knew I watched, I did not doubt for, having teased her well-furred cunny, then she turned Miss Withers on her hip and thus exposed her naked bottom to my view. Ah, what a globe-a globous globe indeed and deeply cleft and brown-tinged at the furrow's roll.
    “Let me attend on you; be not ashamed, for there is no one else to see,” said Caroline with arch hypocrisy. Bearing in mind that Miss Withers then lay pressed into the back of the seat with her face all but hidden, she presented a royal feast to the lips and tongue of my beloved who commenced to assail the lady's most intimate orifices with abandon.
    Miss Withers squealed, she moaned-she even giggled once: a wondrous sound to hear. Sometimes she pressed away and said, “Oh no, oh no!” as if disclaiming her own sins, but the insistence of my love won through. Her tongue teased everywhere. Miss Withers quivered, clenched her fists in ecstasy. The well-laved grotto of her slit was mine to see, as was her rosy orifice. She arched her back, clutched at the wall, then rolled upon her back, lay limp. One stockinged leg slumped to the floor, and thus her honeypot was fully opened to the bees of love: an awful simile, I do confess.
    There is a decided awkwardness in mounting a female on such a couch, but therewith an extra sense of lewdness, too. Desire had carried me forward even before my conscious mind took note of my moving feet. Miss Withers had flung her arm across her eyes and so unwittingly had blinded herself to my approach. She heard though, at the last footfall, she heard. A squeal escaped her. She would have sprung up had Caroline not deftly pressed her down, smothered her mouth with hers and I already taking up my posture in between her most impressive legs.
    “nah! he must not! Oh, heavens! Save me!” uttered she. Her fallen foot kicked soundly, caught me on the arm, then flopped again, for Caroline had pressed her thigh and held it still.
    “A good poke, darling-that is what she needs,” breathed Caroline. A higher shriek greeted her words. I had the deuce of it to hold Miss Withers still the while my knob (most awkwardly) approached her curly-clustered dell. It touched. Ah, magic of that moment ever on when one assails an untried honeypot! I pushed one leg up and exposed the more her pouting cleft, fell on her full and sucked the swollen tips of her fine tits the while I eased John Thomas in.
    “Stop him! Stop him!” she bucked again. My knob slipped out again and all seemed lost.
    “I'll hold her legs, my pet. Now get it in again!” from Caroline.
    “No-woh! You beasts, your horrors, no! Oh, don't!”
    Ah, what a further struggling then ensued! Her hips churned this way, that-her pubic bush was brushed most maddenly against my knob as were the sleek lips of her cunt. What devil took me then I do not know. I brusquely motioned Caroline to stand and spun Miss Withers over by sheer force until she lay upon her belly, kicking still. Her hands clawed at the cushions, clutched them tight.
    I began to smack her bottom then. She screeched at each descending stroke of my broad palm that made her pale cheeks redden.
    “Save me, oh Caroline, oh save me, please!” Miss Withers squealed. I brought one knee to bear upon her back and smacked her harder on her wobbling cheeks. Her shrill cries filled the drawing room. I did not care. I meant to have the woman, luscious as she was and yet untried still, SMACK! SMACK! and SMACK! again, and then by innate cunning I let her go and stepped from her, my penis thrusting up beneath my shirt.
    “We must let her be; she will not learn,” I said with due solemnity. Miss Withers drawers were on the floor. I kicked them carefully aside so that they fell beyond her sight in rising, as she did, her face tear-streaked, her hair awry, for half the pins had fallen out from it-a face that was a battlefield of love, as then I thought of it, and where my colours soon would fly.
    “The poor, dear thing,” was said by Caroline. She sat beside the sobbing, rising woman then and placed an arm about her shoulders as if comforting.
    “I want to go home!” Miss Withers sobbed.
    “Of course, of course,” said Caroline, but no one moved. Her moistened nipples gleamed, her thighs were bared. Her eyes were closed; she sobbed a little more and let her head fall on to my love's shoulder. “Poor, spanked, naughty girl,” soothed Caroline and lifted up Miss Withers' face. Unconscionably their lips merged into one another's and thus stayed. I fell beside her on the other side and swept my hand up in between her thighs-felt no resistance, tickled up her motte.
    “What are you doing?”-then a moan from her. Her head sank back. More luscious kisses were exchanged.
    “Pleasuring you, my pet-what else?” purred Caroline.
    “Shouldn't-you shouldn't-naughty things-no don't!” her cunny nipped my finger as I slipped it in-felt delicious oiliness, the warmth, the welcoming of silken walls.
    I spread her legs the more-knew not a kick from her.
    “Put up her legs-she'll do it with you now,” from Caroline.
    I did not hasten at the task. We were as people moving in a dream. Heavy her legs felt as I lifted them until she lay supine and Caroline bent to her mouth again.
    “Prepare her properly-pull up her dress the more,” I said. A masterful approach was plainly needed.
    “It is time for bed, my love,” said Caroline more plainly and motioned with her head for me to go. There came a moan from Miss Withers, but she did not stir. My cock was rampant. I could near have spilled upon her thighs.
    “Of course,” I said and betook myself upstairs back to the study where I quick undressed and waited in concealment, belly all a-swim with lust, my cock distended, rampant up my belly thrust.
    There came then shufflings from below and murmurs, protestations, whispers from my wife. Laggard the footsteps came, but still they came. I heard a smack or two and knew that Caroline was chiding her for sloth. “Don't want to”-“Yes, you do,” was heard. Plainly Miss Withers had reverted in her years. She put up her behaviour as a young girl might. They passed the study, and I peeped, and saw her glorious bottom bared and cupped upon my wife's warm palm.
    I must truncate my tale. I bear too much on detail here perhaps and stir impatience. Naked I found them both, enclasped between the sheets. Miss Withers gave a cry and hid her face. I slid within the bed and sandwiched her between our vibrant forms, my prick hard-pressed against her bottoms bliss. Caroline's arms were clasped about her waist. I pushed the sheet down to reveal their forms, the vaselike curving of their hips, the jellied jiggling of their wondrous tits whose nipple kissed together as they hugged.
    “How lovely she is! May we not keep you?” teased Caroline to her and rolled her on her back.
    “Please, no, do not!” Miss Withers quavered, but her eyes were dull and hid the fires within.
    “Open her legs the more and get between,” husked Caroline.
    Miss Withers, gasped, she bucked, she would have closed her thighs. Her swollen gourds were underneath my chest. Her nipples burned to me, her belly wriggled, slithered all in vain. My knob probed her cuntlips and slid in.
    “We shall have to birch her in the morning, dearest; what a naughty girl!”
    I could not answer. God, how tight she was! I slid my palms beneath her bottom's lustrous orb and cupped the cheeks. Her fists beat on my back, her mouth avoided mine-she gasped and moaned. I gripped her wrists, thrust them above her head. A rippling of my loins-my cock was sheathed, our bellies close together and her tits a-rolling under me. She bucked still, moaned her moans; I held her thus, reached for my love's warm bottom, fondled it. Our voluptuous victim sobbed and bit the pillow twixt her teeth, my kisses raining on her velvet cheek.
    “Oh no, no, no!” her cries went on.
    “Come darling, give it to him-work your cunt upon his prick,” soothed Caroline and nipped Miss Withers' ear, then rolled her tongue within and licked her neck, her own warm bottom jiggling to my thumb.
    The tears rolled slowly from Miss Withers' eyes and yet I felt the eager clenching of her cunny on my cock as in and out it surged. Her bottom rolled a little to my palms. I found her rosebud, worked my finger in, making her breath hiss out, her back to arch.
    “Kiss me! Sperm her while you kiss me-oh, don't wait!” gasped Caroline.
    I then was at my peak already, grazed my pubic hairs upon Miss Withers, and with a momentous moan lauded her cunny with my spermy flood, pulsed on, pulsed on, and spat my liquid treasures deep within, my tongue and Caroline's together as I did in rapturous abandon at our toil. Sinking, I held Miss Withers, would not let her stir until the last thick, pearly drops had entered in. She quivered, flushed and bit the pillow more. Her belly shimmered once and then she came, spurt upon spurt upon my well-sheathed tool. I felt her wetness and the sparkling there around my encased knob. My finger worked up deep within her bottomhole and then slipped out.
    “A good girl-was she not?” purred Caroline. I had for once no words to say-rolled off Miss Withers and lay quiet, though felt a joy to have her fleshy hip to mine and placed my hand upon her thigh and soothed her quim, so juicy to my fingers then.
    “Want to go home,” Miss Whithers whimpered, turned to Caroline again and let her bottom bulb against my leg.
    “No,” Caroline said softly, held her tight.
    Such women are not infrequent. Despite their cries, their kicks, they are eventually docile. There is a certain pleasure in docility, but it lasts not. Some girls, when taken up, act thus. Even the severest training will not somehow bring them on to clasp one's neck and heave their bottoms to one's will, to answer tongue with tongue. They know not how to kiss, or are not minded to. Their mouths are rubbery and soft, but have no fine responsiveness. Their eyes are dull, their fingers loosely clasp one's arms. The are obedient and yet not amourous.
    Yet curiously they drive one on to try to overcome their laxity. I have heard this so from others, too, recalled their tales as I lay there, fingering Miss Withers' bottom lazily. “They are bovine; they take the cock and suck it dry, then lie there quiet, bemused, in some far cloud of their own making,” so one said, and added pensively, “They seem scarce to know what passed or what one has done with them. Their bellies ripple while they're being fucked, and yet they seldom come. One birches them the more and puts it in again. It does no good. Their arses are invariably ripe, and that's the waste of it. Some have the body of a goddess, yet are cold as marble. There's no teaching of them-not at all, dear boy.”
    The fellow was right. Miss Withers was one such. To fail to yield such treasures lustfully I count as a dire sin. The deuce of it-their very laxity spurs on the cock to prove its point, yet all in vain. The champions colours are ignored by them. “I shall liven her up,” it is said of such by bold, brave souls, and yet they never do, they never do. Cocks limp, they sigh and take to port again, or douse a whisky and may even try the citadel once more to stir the flames where no fires burn. One tries again, again-and that's the oddity of it.
    My cock stirred at such thoughts. I turned and pressed it up against her lustrous bum. She squirmed, cried out, was held between us. Prising her plump cheeks apart, I had my knob a-throbbing at her brown-rimmed ring, and gritting teeth a little, urged it up. Her head jerked back and bumped my forehead as she did. My arms met Caroline's around her waist.
    “No-no-my god, no!” came Miss Withers' cry.
    “Be quiet, you naughty girl,” from Caroline. Such teasing, though, has little more effect than does the prick itself. There is a deadness, surely, in their souls, and yet such females are penetrated all the more to try and make them flower. The challenge is for every male to meet. He cannot help himself, alas.
    “Come-yield your bottom to me, woman!”
    “Nooo!” she moaned and wriggled like a fish in our embrace. By then I was embedded a full inch in her tight, slowly-yielding anus that so hotly clenched itself around my pego with its stiff demand.
    “Yes, dear, sink back on it. Take it right up you, sillikins,” breathed Caroline.
    “Don't woh-woh-want to! Oh, such wickedness! How dare he put it up my… oooof!”
    I rammed her suddenly. I wished to feel the sweet ballooning of her cheeks against my belly, fleshy, round and warm pulsating out its joy to take a cock. Her heels kicked to my shins; I had her though. The cork was in the bottleneck-my balls nudged underneath her sticky quim.
    “Now let her be,” I grunted out to Caroline, shifted my posture, drew the woman up with me and brought her slowly on her knees, my prick still buried in her fundament. Caroline made to hold her neck. I uttered sternly, “No!” She caught my mood and smiled and then lay back, her legs spread wide, dark bush against pale skin, one knee up-bent and pressing to my thigh.
    “Yes, darling, she needs a cock up her bottom,” whispered she.
    “Be quiet!” I thundered to Miss Withers who, at that let head and shoulders droop, her warm arse mounding tightly into me.
    “I shall-I shall-I'll die of this!” she moaned.
    “No young girl ever has, and nor shall you. Now, roll your bottom, woman, or I'll cane you-that I will!”
    “Oooh-Hooo, you beast!” and yet her cry was soft. I felt the working of bumcheeks to my skin, the squeezing of her muscles deep within, and knew indeed how tight a cork feels in a bottleneck.
    “Tickle her cunny, Caroline.”
    “My love!” Lithe as she is, my wife spun round her feet against the headboard of the bed, then serpent-like slid underneath Miss Withers till her mouth came under her moist quim.
    “NEE-HEE!” Miss Withers squeaked. We had her then-prick up her bottom and a sleek tongue to her cunt. Then Caroline reached up and held her waist while I began to pump. Ah-how I pumped! Miss Withers' bottom smacked against my belly as I did. My prick was tightly-squeezed. Perhaps a pearl of come exuded from the tip, for she was lubricated soon enough, her fine arse made to swing between the pair of us, all three a-panting, moaning as we worked. I cupped Miss Withers' tits-her nipples stiff. They dangled on my palms like melons ripe, the skin so silky and so swollen up.
    “Ah, she is taking it-the lovely. What a bottom she has!”
    I could not help myself. My wife's tongue flicked beneath my balls. She had a mouthful of us both. I bent upon Miss Withers-kissed her neck, the reaches of her velvet cheek, but could not reach her mouth. I hated her for that, and yet she yielded then, permitted me to move her bottom back and forth.
    “The darling-she is coming! Bugger her, my pet!” gargled my wife. Miss Withers' fingers twisted up the pillow tight. Her head drooped, lips apart. I seized her mouth at last. O wondrous passion of that kiss as then I came-her bottom screwing into me, her tongue a serpent round about my own. I pulsed, I jetted out my cannonade deep in her bum and felt her squirming joy, her warm saliva trickling in my mouth, and on and on the icy fire of it until I quivered in her and was spent.
    I straightened up and held her thus. She wriggled just a little and was still. Then Caroline slid up from under her, affording me a very salty kiss.
    “Oh, darling, you're still in her! Take it slowly out. The treasure that she is-I knew she would!”
    Out came my stricken slug of flesh. It hesitated at the rim, was squeezed once more and then fell limp. Miss Withers had been conquered, so it seemed. She slumped and hid her face and closed her eyes. I felt the throbbing of her bottom in my balls, collapsed with a deep sigh upon my back and let my leg fall over hers.
    “Oh, don't! I did not want to, but you made me,” so she moaned, and even Caroline then looked bemused. The would-be comfort of her hand was shaken off, and up Miss Withers sat, an ooze of come squeezed to the sheet, as afterwards I saw.
    “You want to go home?” My wife's tone then was stiff. She rose and put her nightgown on. I slid my leg away, drew up the sheet. Miss Withers clambered out of bed. I regretted even then the departure of that globous bottom from my clasp.
    “I will go home.” Her voice was soft. It spoke of raindrops rather than of flowers. The scent of sperm was all about the room. I thought it heady; she did not.
    “I will see to a coach; your own has gone,” said Caroline. She drew a peignoir on and trotted out-the hostess to the last, salt-rimmed her lips. Miss Withers slowly gathered up her clothes. I was not there: a ghost from her dim past. I watched her dress. Her drawers were still downstairs, that pleased me at the least. She dressed with an untidiness that did not, though. I did not want her anymore; I did not want. Lacing her boots at last she went downstairs. The muffled voices-different now-came up to me. The front door slammed. I heard a coach depart. Then Caroline returned.
    “A scandal will there be?” I asked.
    “I have told her there will not-or she will be the loser of it, that I'd see to, mark my words. I told thus. She understands. But now embrace me-take my lips to yours.”
    Naked again she came into my arms. We kissed and whispered sultrily and then were still. Home is a haven when it can be thus. I felt her nipples, twiddled them about.
    “You liked it, though?” she asked and sighed.
    “Not much.” I told the truth and yet in part I lied. The power of womanhood is such as lures one even in dismay. “At least, she'll not forget this night,” I said.
    “And yet will place no value on it. What a fool! Her husband-to-be will turn to looser women. That I tried to warn her of.”
    “It does not matter.”
    “No. I know. There are such-dry as husks. They have no juice. I swear that when she came she did despise herself or thought it some strange accident.”
    “It does not matter, dearest. How you tried!”
    “I did; I know I did. I thought it best for her. She will not even twiddle her own cunny so she said. Oh god, what a drab place the world becomes with such as she.”
    A sigh. The night grew warmer then. We lay together quietly, and we slept.


    Love is continual, but lust is not. One who eats sugar night and morn will soon lose his palate for it. I betray my middle age, perhaps, in speaking thus. The young are merry in their randiness and stir us still, but even so we leave the creamiest cakes upon the plate sometimes, to be nibbled later. Anticipations are a perfect aphrodisiac. If Caroline and Adelaide did not have as great a taste for females as they do for males, all would be different.
    “We are collectors,” Caroline will say with pride. In the Somner household, we were members of a “club,” or so to speak, and sported in the rules. Adelaide-having once passed her trials and having been seen to be corked- was not seen thus again. Both Lord Somner and I possessed her at our whim, but privately thereafter. When the girls were to be breached, they went sedately up the stairs and were seen to in or on their beds. A “creamed bun” always attracted me. I have had both Caroline and Adelaide after they had been corked, and found them passionate for more. Or the girls would toy with us in pairs; that too was known. A bedroom door once closed was kept thus until the male appeared again, a little more wan than when he entered.
    There were times when jealousy obtained with me. I muffled it. Lewdly, I did not mind provided that Caroline told me of her adventures afterwards, doing so in such exquisite and well-wrought detail that I became-as she well knew-quite dizzy with desire for her. A sensation that she or Adelaide were to be ridden, or wished to sport together with another male, would come over me and I would leave the house, take horse, and ride across the fields. Ever the images would bring me back, though, and I would find their bottoms or their cunnies moist.
    “You have been fucked,” I would say with an intensity of fear and thrills to Caroline and she would often hide her face and smooth her belly into mine. “Yes, or no-I had it up my bottom, anyway,” she sometimes would reply, and then would quickly add, “There is a new girl coming soon. Her cheeks have been opened only once; you have to help me train her, pet.”
    That always diverted me; she knew it did. My prick would stiffen up despite myself. Her lips would part and tongue come in to mine. I could feel the marks of the birch sometimes upon her bottom as we kissed. “Why do you?” I would ask. I rarely birched or strapped them then, but now do so just for the fun of it.-“Because it makes me naughty,” she would say; and then with husky laugh would add, “I want another one up there, so give me yours.”
    “You know I hate you.” Oh, so often I said that. Her eyes would hide and she would nod again. Often enough upon a landing this was said, her door half open and her ruffled bed in view. Stiffly she would draw me back within and kick the door to with her foot, as if demandingly.
    “You will not resist,” she would say. Her tongue was liquid fire; her thighs would show.
    “Stop it; I hate you,” I would often choke.
    “His balls slapped underneath my pussy. Oh, I feel so naughty when they do; I cannot help myself. He makes me anyway; you know he does. Now, make me, too.”
    “Bitch! Dirty bitch!”
    “Yes, call me names. I like it when you do. Come hate, come love, you always shall possess me and you know it's true.”
    O shimmerings of love when such is said! We would melt within each other's arms, begin a litany of true amour. I have had my cock up in her bottom while we laughed, the sun upon us through her window pane, her passage spermy but still gripping tight. It is still so; I have no remorse for it. A tinge of jealousy can be the salt of love, but one must count the grains each day and see they do not mount, or all is spoiled. I have mounted other maidens in her sight and hence cannot excuse myself. Hypocrisy is practised more by males than women. We pretend to good deeds, even to outrage, the while we lift another's skirt, returning home then to accuse our wives of wantonness.-“And with such self-esteem, and that's the canting part of it,” says Caroline. I grin, say yes, and then pretend propriety I do not feel and certainly have not exhibited.
    My father would say, “A female is like unto a garden, chosen for one's private pleasures. One does not allow another to come in and pick the flowers.”
    I sometimes (feebly) quoted that to Caroline or Adelaide.-“Huh! Him!” my sister would laugh. Caroline would declare: “That rogue! Mark how he speaks of pleasure-only his. Were you as selfish, then I would not marry you.”
    I never had a reply to that, alas.
    “Don't try to make one up,” they both would laugh. The logic of the female is as twisted wire that will not be unravelled. There is talk of suffragism now-the vote for women. Heaven knows what may become of us. These are the last years of the golden age perhaps, and should be cherished. There may be no more Myrtles then-perish the thought.
    But pardon me, I have not introduced her yet. Myrtle Davington-Haines was just nineteen and her sister Norma two years younger. They were sent to us for “dedication of their altars to desire”: a scrumptious phrase, I thought, and one to cherish.
    Lord and Lady Somner first received them. (This was nigh on twenty years ago.) I and my sister and my Caroline were ready to depart and take up our abode again in Adelaide's own house, this intelligence disturbing Myrtle and Norma who knew nothing of the purpose to which they had been sent except to say it was a “holiday.” Our ages being closer to their own, they were happier to depart with us, a shyness on them like a cloud that we endeavoured to disperse with merriment.
    I took a fancy to them both. Myrtle was dark, her hair half down her back, and in straight fashion that I rather like. It comes most sleekly to the touch and may be gripped (not to be cruel) when a girl is mounted from the rear. Indeed, she may then be handled like a nervous colt and made to keep her shoulders still. Her tits were high and round and pumpkin firm. They mounded nicely through her dress. Her hips were slim but promised fullness at the rear. She matched my height; I have a fondness, too, for that. Her thighs were silky-always warm within. Her waist could almost be encompassed by my hands and this, as always, added prominence to her tight bottom.
    Norma was smaller. Quite the schoolgirl look. Her bottom was the chubbiest-had the same firm and silky feel that peaches have. In time she would grow plump, but at that age was perfect for the sport. Her nipples were the sharpest I have ever known and tickled ones chest deliriously when she was being fucked.
    “The first day is a day of rest. We shall explore the possibilities, resistances, acceptances-all that,” said Caroline and shooed me off once we had gained the house and felt its glowing warmth anew.
    “Yes,” said Myrtle; “Yes,” said Norma, too. They knew not of what she spoke, of course, and were bemused by a manner more mature than were her years.
    I took myself to the garden with a book and flirted with a maid who had just arrived. The girls took to a bedroom as they always do upon arrival. An hour passed-I ventured in again, took coffee and liqueurs with them when they descended to the drawing room. All were attired in their chemises, stockings, shoes. Myrtle and Norma blushed and hid their legs. We were served without a flutter from the maid who had been primed in every possible way (much as a glowing pistol is) by Lord and Lady Somner first. She received an extra ten pounds annually for her discretion-in the end became a “lady,” married well, and now trains girls herself in Kensington. Such good fortune does the Wheel of Life bring sometimes to the more percipient.
    The conversation in the drawing room was quite sedate. We spoke of hobbies and pursuits, collecting dried flowers, shells, the like. Embroidery and petite point came into it as well. The sisters, though a little nervous, settled more, though ever conscious of a showing of their legs, the snow-mounds of their titties half revealed.
    “And then there is exercising,” Caroline said suddenly as more liqueurs were drunk. The intention, as I saw, was to make the visitors tipsy, but no more than that. It is considered by some unsportsmanlike-but when the devil drives… And we were young, besides.
    “That is to say croquet and tennis and such?” asked Myrtle.
    “No, my dear. I mean the exercising of the female form in ways more bountiful. There are postures to be learned. You have been taught a leetle, I believe?”
    Norma giggled at that and covered up her mouth. Myrtle compressed her lips-looked all too prim.
    “Well, as to that…” she began, but had no further words to say. Adelaide refilled her glass. She hiccuped a trifle and sat very still. Perhaps her bottom moved a little at the thought. If not, I then I imagined that it did. I thought how tight that her bottom would be, and that of Norma, too.
    “Yes, as to that…” Caroline replied in pensive tone. Then she clapped her hands and said, “Come-we will go upstairs again.”
    They are to be birched, I thought. I licked my lips, but dared not follow up. And soon enough squeals came, and cries. I did not hear the swishing of the birch, but a more subtle sound that has greater menace to it.
    “Nee-aargh! Oh no!” screamed Myrtle loudly. As I learned later, she was put over first, her bottom bared, and Norma made to watch the striping of her sister's wriggling orb. I thought the house would split asunder with their cries, then finally all was still and silence reigned. I adjusted my expression as best as I could. My stalk was up and thrusting through my trouser cloth.
    Caroline descended and sat on my lap. “What is to do?” I asked. Her bottom wriggled warmly on my cock.
    “I have caned them. They are resting. Easy does it, dear. Tilly (the maid, that is) will take them up refreshments in due course. Myrtle is difficult, I fear. She has not had her cunny or her bottom tapped as yet. She may have to be held at first, I think. A pity of it, but you will not mind?”
    “If you do not.” I drew her mouth to mine.
    She giggled up against my lips-a tickly feel. “I like to see it going in-you know I do. I want to see her rosy bottomhole gripped round your cock, as Adelaide's has been. I have a whim to bind her tightly. It may prove a blessing to her in the end.”
    It was so. I would rather skip the hours that followed, and yet waiting is a part of it. I did not see the sisters until suppertime. Three quite light stingers with the cane were given both before they were brought down. Each wore a pair of white and spotless drawers, white stockings and white shoes. A filmy peignoir, only veiled their breasts, but showed the nipples, brown-tinged, underneath, the milky bobbing of their lovesome pairs. Each wore a leather collar round her neck to which a silver chain was linked. They came in blushing, wriggling just a little, thighs a-glow above their stocking tops. Caroline led Myrtle and my sister brought in Norma on her chain. Their arms were bound down to their sides with a broad strap.
    “Sit! You will be fed. What babies you both are,” said Caroline, and spoons of soup were brought up to their lips. Myrtle refused hers first, but then was made to sup. Norma made a slightly sucking noise and flushed the more for it. I, sitting opposite at table, took great care not to look at them too much. I ate as slowly as they had to do, and all was still. Their mouths were wiped. Then, sitting still, they watched while Caroline and Adelaide both ate. They had a look of apprehension in their eyes I did not cherish.
    “Dearest, come-I need you for this part,” said Caroline finally. The chairs scraped back. I made to help the sisters rise, wanting of course to feel their charming forms, but that was not allowed. Into the drawing room I went and waited. Then they were brought in and seated both before me on hard chairs, upright. The collar chains extended halfway down their backs and were fastened to a wooden strut below. They could not rise. I wondered at their awkward postures then.
    “They are cock-nervous, darling,” Caroline then purred and manouevred me to face the tremulous pair. “Show them yours,” she urged. I felt her touch my trouser front and very slowly loose the buttons one by one.
    Their eyes! I still can see their eyes. How prettily they gaped and blushed as she revealed my member to them, stiffened as it was and head a-glow.
    “You do not mind? We all must play our part in ed-u-ca-tion,” Caroline said, and spelled the word out slowly by its syllables. Adelaide stood behind the seated girls and stroked their necks with trailing fingers. I do not believe I answered; they both say that I did not, but grunted. “You even blushed a little,” Caroline still laughs.
    It was, in its way, an extraordinary occasion. My trousers were descended and my shirt was lifted up to show my balls to them as well. I believe that Norma had the hotter eyes. Myrtle's were distant, though she could not help but stare. A silk hanky was produced and covered up my knob. Oh, what a feeling silk gives when warm fingers are applied as well!
    A lecture was ensuing from Adelaide. I began to snuffle through my nose, I'm told. My cock began to burn and thrum the more as it was frigged. My sister whispered in the girls' hot ears. I caught the naughty words-“cock,” “pussy,” “balls,” and “bottomhole.”
    “You see, my doves, how one may manipulate the tool,” said Caroline to them. Perhaps it was an education in itself for them to see such. They had thought of hairy monsters with great horns, mayhap. One simply does not know what young girls think. My balls were cupped and held up to their view. I took upon my self a humbled look and uttered not a word, but groaned as though in ecstasy. Indeed it was. Adelaide had parted both girl's legs. I saw their knickered crotches and the way their Venus mounts plumped through the cotton, shadowed quite excitingly.
    “One may bring the male off manually, or receive him in a warm, tight aperture,” my love was saying. “After the birch, your bottoms burn, and then you are more eager to receive.”
    “No! I will never!” Myrtle cried, and Norma squeaked-an echo to her sister's call.
    “Norma, darling, does it not look nice-so ripe, so swollen. It brings pleasure, dear, and not dismay,” purred Adelaide and kissed the young girl's neck and made her face to twist.
    “No, no-I never will!” sobbed Myrtle then and seemed on the point of desperation. That was in male eyes, however. Women know their own kind better.
    “Will you not? What a frumptious, stiff-necked spinster you would become! Norma knows better. Do you not, my pet?” Caroline asked and gave a nod to Adelaide who moved around the younger sister's chair, bent by her side and twiddled up her cunny through her drawers.
    “Gloo-hooo!” choked Norma. Both her legs shot forward and her bottom squirmed.
    “Delicious! She is slightly moist already,” Adelaide announced. Myrtle's cheeks were crimson and her teeth were clenched. I, like a lamb, was brought more closer to the younger one. Norma's eyes were lantern then, seeing my prick close-up, half sheathed in light, transparent silk, and Caroline's fingers gently moving up and down the well-erected stem of vibrant flesh.
    “Spread her legs wider!” ordered Caroline. 'Twas done without resistance on the young girl's part. Her eyes assumed a dull, glazed look. I saw her tummy rippling in her drawers. Her bum began to jiggle on the seat-a marionette with arms bound to her sides. “Unstrap her arms,” said Caroline, as though she read my thought, and Adelaide did this while still a-fingering the girl's plump mount, and moans of seeming horror came from Myrtle.
    I, the young stallion, was held. Caroline delights in this and does it otherwise to me-as thus when earlier I had been put up to Veronica, or when a girl is to be trained, as now decidedly was the case with Myrtle and with Norma both.
    My sister then took Norma's hair, bent her head back, and took her lips. I saw a patch of moisture in the crotch of the girl's drawers as she was fingered on and on. It seemed to me already then that I could glimpse the oiled and pouting lips through the cotton's more translucent sheen.
    “Bend your knees!” Caroline commanded me. I knew, of course, that it was important she should be seen to be obeyed. By then I found myself between the stockinged knees of Norma. Her bottom had slid forward on the seat and placed her cunny just beyond the edge.
    “Nub her gently with your knob; come when I tell you, darling,” Caroline then purred. It was the deuce of an awkward thing to do. I had my prick forced down; my knees performed as jack-knives do, half open.
    “Lift your legs, Norma-lift them-wrap them around his legs,” breathed Adelaide into the girl's warm lips. Beside us, Myrtle writhed and moaned but was ignored, for Norma held the stage. Blinded beneath the lowered face of Adelaide who took her hand away from her wet crotch, she raised her legs uncertainly. I grabbed the one and felt it heavy, warm, and pinched it slightly just to make her coil the other, which she did. A groan, and then I pressed my knob into her crotch. I felt the slightly-stinging moisture there, could feel the pursed lips through the cotton's wet.
    “You will bubble together in a minute and she'll know it's nice,” said Caroline, “Do as I say, my pet, I want to have her pleasured well.”
    “Yes.” I assented softly-spoke at last. My balls hung down most curiously in my strained posture, yet there was excitement in the act, a sense of secrecy, though seen by all. Her knees were stuck out like chicken's wings and trembled muchly as I felt her hidden cunnylips come up against my swollen knob. “Permit me to kiss her, Adelaide,” I jerked.
    “It will be difficult, but you may try,” she laughed.
    Indeed it was. Had her body not been so supple, had she not been young, I would have been attempting nigh on the impossible. I slid my arms beneath armpits and all but folded the upper part of her body forward. She demurred to let my lips touch hers at first, but as she felt the pulsings of my cock she let her mouth surrender. What a small and juicy peach it was!
    “Your lips are only to touch and lightly touch. Her sensations are mainly to be below,” said Caroline and drew my head back so that my mouth but burred to Norma's. We both quivered then in that strange and bizarre embrace, the warm globe of her bottom poised upon the chair's rolled-leather edge. “Gently, gently,” Caroline purred. I knew her then for the divine teacher that she is, one given much to the minutiae of sensuality. In a more advanced mode, when a girl is so placed and held for it, the tips of the tongues protrude and touch, but not the lips. The sensation is divine, for the girl's tongue quivers, hesitates, and would withdraw at first, but as excitement rises then it licks one's own, but even so mouths must not meet. It is voluptuous indeed, and many a girl has since been taught this way.
    Holding my cock in position and pressing the knob just slightly in so that I could feel the peach of love beneath the cotton, Caroline began to frig me gently while I snuffled and suppressed my groans. There was an artfulness in all, for I was seen to be as much controlled as Norma was.
    “In a moment you will come together-in a moment,” murmured she and reached her free hand into the front of Norma's drawers to feel her belly-quivers. Ah, how my knees ached and yet I thus remained. The cause, the cause, I told myself. A week and they would both be pronged in any case, their legs held open if the need arose, and both might squeak “Mama!” but none would answer to their cries.
    “Hoo-aaar! I am, I am…” I choked.
    “All right, all right, for she is coming too. Spill, darling, spill, but keep pressed in!”
    I did-my heavens how I did-and how I longed to plunge my tongue within that darling mouth and penetrate her drawers. Yet discipline must hold. My months with Lady Somner had not been in vain. The most exquisite sensations of electric fire shot white flames through my cock. I came, came in abundance, soaking through her drawers. I felt her jitter, hug me tighter with her calves. For an eternity it seemed that we were thus and then, as I expended my last spout, her head hung back and to the ceiling sightless stared. Her legs slipped slowly, thumped upon the floor. I, weakened by my spilling, had my legs a-tremble as I rose. Myrtle seemed to have fainted, or pretended to, had let her head droop and her eyes were closed.


    “What a perfect, pretty thing she is,” said Adelaide at the last. I, with my trousers half drawn up, had a hazy view of Norma being led again upstairs, an arm about her shoulders placed. My sister turned her head and winked. They disappeared into the hall.
    “As to this one-I fear there is nothing to be done with her. She will be stabled, I suspect,” said Adelaide. She lifted Myrtles drooping face, but then it fell again. “You close your eyes too tightly for one who has fainted, dear,” said Caroline.
    “Go away. You are hateful-dirty-all of you,” said Myrtle, blotting out the view of us with her closed lids.
    “I believe she really wants to suck your cock,” said Caroline in a most serious tone which caused the girl to shriek and then start up as best she might..
    “No! Never! no!” she cried and stared at us, then shut her eyes again.
    “No, of course not. She believes that it would soil her pretty lips,” said Caroline and uttered a huge sigh and turned away. I buttoned up and walked back to a seat. Caroline turned with a swishing of her skirt-made for the door.
    “Where are you going? What is to happen to me?” squealed Myrtle, and again opened her eyes.
    “Since you ask, my dear, I really do not know,” Caroline answered coldly. She leaned against the door-jamb- never looked more lovely in my sight. Her legs are so perfectly formed that I never cease to look at them. Her bottom poises like a plum upon her thighs. “Say apple,” she would say, but I say no. A plum is richer, has the better feel.
    “I shall go home; I shall report all this,” wailed Myrtle.
    “Go home? Yes, you shall, of course. And straight to bed, I have no doubt. As to reporting us-oh no! Think of the questions you'll be asked-were your thighs opened, were they not, and were your drawers removed, who saw your muff, and…
    “Stop it! Stop it! No one ever speaks to me like that!”
    “Then mores the pity, for you miss so much. But in any case you'd have little to confess, my pet. Unless you wish to say that when two girls handled you, without a male, you acted like a quivering leaf, cried like a baby…”
    “I did not!”
    A sudden silence fell at those three words. I sensed a pleading in them. So did Caroline.
    “You did not? I misheard, Myrtle? I thought you made a nightmare of a lovely dream to be. Was I mistaken, then?”
    “Don't know,” the mumble came. A furtive glance at me. Evidently the buttoning of my trousers mollified her for the moment.
    “We may handle you in bed tonight-we may? I mean just Adelaide and I?”
    “May I… may I go tomorrow, if I do?”
    “You are not here to be afforded promises, my dear. Other than those of pleasure such as you will gain eventually in any case. If you have sense enough.”
    “My arms are tied, it is not fair.”
    “Will you excuse us, darling, for a while?”
    “Why certainly.” I got up in a flash and ambled out and to the morning room, where I could hear. I heard the belt unbuckled, heard Caroline say briskly, “Now get up!” Then followed, “Do you wish to be caned again, Myrtle,” and a mumbled, “No.” A silence followed. I believe I heard a kiss.
    “Untie your drawers and let them droop. I like to see you thus. You'll have to soon enough; you know you will.”
    “Don't want to”-in a silly voice.
    “Yes, now! I mean it, Miss-or else! There… what a pussy, what a darling mound! Pray let me cup it, will you not? Just let it rest upon my palm. Your drawers obstruct your ankles-yes-I know they do, but that is good for you to stand so, all revealed, a little helpless. I know best, believe me. I have stood so thus myself and had my bottom patted and caressed.”
    “You? Ooooh!..”
    “It tickles, does it not, but nicely, too. Of course I have. The first exercise is to stand quite still while you are being fingered, Myrtle. Just draw in the sweet sensations you obtain.”
    “B… b… b… I don't mind with you, but…”
    “Shush! Don't speak when you are being pleasured- not at first, at least. Half close your eyes and let your lips be still. You look most tempting then. Your titties are divine, your bottom, too.”
    “Whooo-oooh!” A small and quivering cry that was answered by another from above. I did not doubt that Adelaide was tonguing Norma now. The minx would yield to her with open legs. I was a beggar at the feast, yet played the willing partner to them both, “har! Not up there! You make me feel more swoony-I shall fall!”
    “That is because you are the more receptive to it now, Myrtle. Don't squeeze your bottom quite so much. Just let me get my finger in-and then the other in your honeypot, you see?”
    “Gooo-oooh! No, don't! Not up my…”
    “Myrtle, yes! That's where his prick will go up first; you know it will.”
    “Don't want to-not with him. Oh, it's too big!”
    “You witch-then you have seen it, haven't you!”
    “J… j… just once, har-hooo!”
    “You're coming on, my pet, you are. Come, drench me now and let my finger work right up your bottom as you do. Then think of naughty things and lovely nights and big balls bouncing underneath your quim.”
    “Oh no! ah-oooh!”
    That gargled cry. I knew it well-I knew the pantings, rushings of the breath, and that last dying sigh that speaks of pleasure loosed. A sound of kisses-small, small kisses-such as makes me think of ripples on a pond.
    “Just think, my sweet, you will receive more than you spend once you are ready for the cock.”
    “I c… c… couldn't… no!”-a rushing gasp and then the strangest plea, “Oh, let me stay with you, just you, and Adelaide as well.”
    “To live a life of Sapphic pleasures only? Tush! What would you do when we two were at play with males? Now turn-come on. Yes-turn, you silly, turn. Bend over- further. Further, Miss, I say!”
    “What would you do with me? Oh, shame-don't grip my neck like this. It hurts! Mama, Mama-oh save me, do!”
    “Your Mama has no intentions of saving you, my pet, save that it be for pleasure. Well enough she know your silly ways, your refusals to put your bottom up for it, your squealings that no doubt bring the house down. I mean to put you to it, Miss-and now!”
    Good heavens-I was summoned, Knew I was. Prick stiff again from all that I had heard, I ran along the passageway and was within. Bent over-yes-she was, her bottom high and Caroline's full weight upon her back.
    “Quickly-have her bottom now!”
    “OH NO! MY GOD, NO! GET HIM OFF! YEEAARGH! Oh, don't you dare! It's far too big-it won't! — mama!”
    I had her hips while Caroline held her neck, my cock half-freed and nubbing at her cleft. The warmth, the tightness there, the springy cheeks! Insurgent slid my knob between and found the soft-rimmed hole. It yielded slowly to a bitter cry from her, then clipped the helmet tight-so tightly I could scarcely move. She endeavoured to retract. I ringed her waist, but still she clenched her muscles tight. And sobbed. And sobbed.
    “I cannot… cannot get it in,” I gasped.
    “Adelaide! Bring down the cane!” The voice of Caroline rang through the house.
    “You beasts, you beasts-I'll have you hung for this!”
    And then a call from Adelaide; a clattering on the stairs. The cane had hit the banisters in her descent. She rushed into the room as one who fears invasion by the Turks.
    “Is she proving difficult?” she asked in a deliberately naive tone, and shook her head at me as if to say, “You naughty boy!” She was naked to her stockings, shoes.
    “Extremely, darling. Three strokes of the cane, please. Dearest, stand aside.”
    “Oh God, no, no! I'll do it-honestly I will!”
    “Too late, my dear. Help me hold her!” This to me, of course. I ringed her wildly-twisting waist and clamped her arms therewith.
    Swoo-isssh! It streaked across that lustrous orb and brought a high-pitched scream from the dear girl whose bottom waggled madly, legs awry, a pink stripe left upon her bulbing globe.
    “Doh-on't!” she screeched.
    “Another, Adelaide. Go on!” said Caroline who had her hands cupped underneath the dangling tits of Myrtle and, I had no doubt, was teasing up her nipples as she did.
    “No-no! I'll let him! Nar-haaar! oooh!”
    “Wait, Adelaide! I wish to hear her say it and repent her sins. What precisely will you let him do?”
    “I'll… I'll…I'll let him…!”
    “Let him what?” And this from Adelaide. Then swoooosh! The cane bit bitterly once more and laid a triple line across the hot, rotating bum of Myrtle whose warm tears fell on her forearms as she sobbed.
    “Let him put it up mee-eee-eeee!”
    “I believe she will Adelaide. We will take her word on it-I shall not hold her more. Stand ready with the cane, though if…
    “Of course. Come, Myrtle, let us have a better posture-legs apart and back dipped well, your head and shoulders down into the seat.”
    “I c… c… can't keep still!”
    “His cock is going up your bottom, dear, and that will still you soon enough. Legs straight! Come-ankles more apart!”
    I had her hips again, was at postillion, and very gently parted her seared cheeks, at which she wilted gasped, and made a sobbing sound, but wriggled not too wildly as I probed her ring and brought it to yawn a little around my knob.
    “Yes, darling, yes-now push it smoothly in,” said Caroline, then took the cane from Adelaide and slid it under Myrtle's chin and by gentle pressure brought her face to rise and kept it there, the cane maintained in a straight line, and Myrtle forced to gaze into the wall. It is, as we are wont to call it, the “full training posture,” when a female has proved fractious. She who would hide her face must have it raised for all to see. Like all, she spluttered, made to force her head down once again, but was told sharply “no!” by Adelaide, the two then standing on each side of her.
    “Goo-oooh!” choked Myrtle. Inch by inch I slid it slowly up and felt her clench, but not so tightly as before.
    “Hold it so. Are you half in?” asked Caroline. I nodded blearily and saw her smile.
    “Then keep it so a moment. Let her take the feel of it. No, Myrtle, keep your head up, you bad girl! Hold her hair, Adelaide. 'Twill keep her still.”
    “Oh-woh! Oh-woh!” from Myrtle all the time. Her passage eased. Two inches more. Another “whooo!” from her. Good heavens, she was tight! The backs of her thighs came warm against my own. I felt the ridging of her stocking tops, then with a grunt I lodged it to the full and had my balls a-hanging underneath her pouch.
    “Nah-hooo!” she squealed, but then was quiet again. I let her feel it throb and stirred it gently. “P… p… please!” she quavered.-“Shush!” said Caroline and drew the cane from underneath her chin while my sister loosed her hair and let it fall. A wobbling cry from Myrtle and she let her head sink down, but no one said her nay to that.
    “We shall see to Norma now,” said Caroline. They drifted out and left the darling prey to me, my cock buried in her bottom and her bulbing cheeks hot into me. Hearing the door close then, she whimpered, “Please! don't want to!”
    “Yes, you do,” I said. I felt her bottom stir against my loins. At the first entry, one should always “still” the girl. I have seen and heard it thus a score of times. The throbbing of the buried cock communicates despite their fears. When the loins are still, there is a certain comforting. I passed my hand beneath her silken belly, felt her quim. She jittered at my touch and moaned. I found her button perky to my touch, then drew my prick half out and held it there.
    “Please take it out!” It was a token sob. I did not answer her but kept her at the stance, then eased it up again and twirled my finger underneath her cunt to make her wriggle, as she did. “It… is… hurting… me,” she whimpered. -“It is not,” I said in a flat tone and began at last to piston her, which is to say that the penis moves at first in short, slow jabs, then lengthens up its stretch and pace until the girl receives the whole and throbbing length of it.
    “Ooooh-whooo!” Her tone was not so doleful then. I bent upon her, cupped her swollen titties, let them dangle on my palms, and felt the itching of her nipples to my skin.
    “Simply be still,” I panted, “very still!”
    She gurgled, panted, but obeyed. The feeling of it was upon her then, I knew, her bottom took my ramming prick; our coarser breathings flowed in unison.
    “Straighten your legs and push your bottom out-good girl!”
    “Mmmm… mmmm!” A broken hum from her. Her toes turned in, her knees were stiff, as often is the case at first. Her bottom slap-smacked to my belly at each stroke, tits wobbling on my palms. A girl need not be brought to come by fingering at first. Obedience is the first lesson here, depending much upon her temperament. If she proves dogged, mulish, then she may be corked a dozen times before her cunny is allowed to cream a cock. Contrariwise, she may be cunny-fucked the first time she is birched. “It depends on the preliminaries,” as Caroline has often said, by which she means caresses, fingerings, if the girl is sometimes limpid to the touch or lets her tongue peep out-a certain sign that she is ready to be mounted twixt her thighs.
    “In a moment… in a moment… haaar!” I uttered brokenly. I felt her anus clench around my root and then ejected my first jet of come deep up her bottom, held her hot sleek cheeks tight into me and spouted on and on, eyes dimming with delight as she received my liquid offerings and moaned to feel me splashing warm in her, the vital throbbing that obtains with joy when two are closely-coupled, as we were.
    “Oh fond delight-she has been spermed at last!”
    The voice of Caroline. She had descended quietly, entered on tiptoe and embraced me as I drew the steaming plug from out of Myrtle's bottomhole and left a snail's-trail of desire to trickle down her shimmering thighs.
    “Come, Myrtle, we will now upon the bed with Norma-that is how it is to be,” murmured my love and drew her up. Myrtle's long legs tottered and she looked quite dazed. With pleasure, I hoped. Her footsteps dragged, but she did not resist. Was I to follow? Caroline took note of my expression, shook her head, arm coiled around the slender waist of Myrtle-led her out. The air stirred with her whisperings, the mumbled, fractured words that came from our new convert, the slurrings of their feet upon the stairs.
    I was alone again. I had been used, perhaps, as much as Myrtle, though with less discomfort for my sins.
    “Yes-I feel better now,” were Myrtle's last words that I heard that night. They kept her twixt them in the bed-I leading Norma to another room where her chubby bottom hole came up to my cock more eagerly than had once done Myrtle's. I corked her twice. She giggled, sighed, tucked in me, and slept, her bottom sticky with my sperm.


    “A pity you could not nest in them, Harry. I would like to see her done that way; she has a pretty bush,” said Adelaide reflectively. We had kept the sisters for three days-then they were bidden home again by messenger. We left them at their gate. It seemed the proper thing to do. Their shadows chased each other's as they ran along the drive, then Norma turned and waved; Myrtle did not. Their cunnies still were virgin. We had followed orders on that point.
    “She will be difficult still, the older one;” said Caroline. A valet opened the front door to them. We were alone again. I snapped the reins. The horses trotted off.
    “I suppose-yes-I suppose,” I felt a wisdom on me greater than my years. I had taken both their bottoms side by side, for Caroline wished it so, withdrawing from the one and entering the other while they squealed, and Adelaide to one side with the cane in hand. “Were we rough with them?” I asked, as though to contradict my newfound “wisdom.”
    “Do they look it?” Caroline asked abruptly. It was true that they did not. Once dressed again and tidy, they looked in the bloom of health. I sighed, said “No” and tightened up the reins.
    “Myrtle will make a profession of objecting. How she would have kicked if you had got between her legs! I wanted to see that,” Adelaide said dolefully.
    “She kept sobbing,” said I.
    “Oh pouf, and enjoyed it all the same, despite pretences! Really, Harry, you are too easily taken in. Norma only squealed because her sister did. That Myrtle is a sounding-board for such. She may end up in a convent yet,” Caroline rejoined, though I did not think her serious. Indeed, by the time we were back she had changed her tune. “Another Aunt Lucy-that is what she will be,” she said. Recalling that remark in retrospect, I take it as a cue to entertain you-if indeed I do-with quite a different tale.
    I believe that I have said somewhere, in this much piled-up and sometimes tangled manuscript (and if I have not, then I should have done), that a sobbing female makes a most delicious ride.
    I do not speak (heaven forfend) of one who is in anguish, nor of one whose tears are bitter and ashamed. Tears that are petulant are otherwise.-“Made to be conquered should be written on their bottoms,” has been said with truth of those who do prove petulant but show no real despair. They cease to sob who have enjoyed. Those who cry afterwards must give one pause as to their futures. Myrtle had not done so, but on each renewal of presenting up her bottom to my prick had uttered up the selfsame plaintive cries as when we had begun-and this is counted as a mulishness.
    But we were wrong. Our skills, such as we flattered ourselves to have, were not unique. It mollified us much to learn this, and it taught us more.
    “She was feathered first-that first night when we took her back;” said Adelaide with awe. I know not how she learned, but listening servants put these things about.
    Myrtles drawers were taken down and she was held, a feather put up underneath her quim and twirled about her button. Naturally she bucked and kicked, but under the relentless titillation could not help but come, her nipples being sucked the while. Then, glazed of eyes and helpless to resist, her legs were held apart and she received the throbbing member in her quim.
    The lights were doused (“A nice touch, that,” said Caroline) and for long minutes she was thus held, shafted by his cock which pressed its root against her lovelips longingly. She twittered, feebly clawed, but then her thighs were slapped and she lay still. He pumped her slowly and she lay like a limp doll, moaning her soft despair into the darkened room until-by some unbidden alchemy of lust-she began to come again and spurted thrilling upon his urging prick. Whereat all changed.
    “Oh do me, do me-do!” was heard her cry (where-from I suspected a servant's listening ears). Lips melted, tongues entwined, her bottom bucked with eagerness to the incessant surging of his tool. Myrtle was conquered and would never more say no.
    “Where did we fail?” asked Caroline on hearing this recital.
    “Yes, that's what I want to know,” I said, as if to bolster her.
    “Aha, he has a bigger one than you,” said Adelaide. I smacked her bottom and she laughed. It taught us to be modest, at the least, of our “achievements.” There was feathering of girls thereafter, and much more besides, in our domain.
    But to Aunt Lucy. She was thirty-seven-hence no fledgling-when she entertained two males at once. Unwittingly, I say, and yet it happened thus.
    Aunt Lucy loved to cry and quite adored lugubrious occasions. She had a penchant both for weddings and funerals and would attend the latter dressed entirely and expensively in black, no matter if the deceased were a distant relation whom she had not seen for twenty years. It is needful to say, however, that one should not think of her as a small, withered eccentric. She was an imposing creature, firm and fine of body, and just the selfsame ripeness that Miss Withers has. Clothed, as she often was, in black, she gave no appearance of the forbidding, but rather one of greater attractiveness, for what could be seen of her skin appeared more the lustrous and shimmering white thereby.
    I recall that there was whispered speculation as to whether she wore black all beneath. The ladies said she must; the gentlemen hoped she might. The legs of female drawers had become at this time shorter,” permitting several inches of gap between the stocking tops and the elastic gripping of the garment so that an alluring glimpse of thighs was seen, the most erotic vision being thus aroused.
    One afternoon, then, Aunt Lucy returned from the funeral of a distant relative whom many opined she had not even met nor ever corresponded with. En route from the station, and alone, two gentlemen passed her carriage and saluted her. Aunt Lucy was, of course, weeping, and but saw them through a veil of tears.
    “Let us escort you, ma'am, in your distress,” was called by one, and so they rode alongside her carriage until her house was reached. Upon helping her to descend, the one who had called noticed what fine ankles she had and was much taken-as was his companion-by thoughts of all that lay above, and all appealingly so framed in black. She was not unknown to them, of course, and hence their offer to accompany her within “in her distress” (I put that not unkindly-she believed in tears) was quickly accepted.
    More sobs sounded as the hall enclosed them first and then the drawing room. Servants who came were quietly shooed away by one of her escorts or the other. She wished to be quiet, said they, and hushed their tones, arranged her on the sofa and removed her gloves and bonnet while the tears streamed down her cheek-fetched port and raised it to her lips. She drank and sobbed in equal measure it was said.
    “Come, oh warmhearted one, do not be so distressed,” said one who sat beside her on the right while the other cozened her on the left, caressed her thighs and felt the gap between her stocking tops and knicker-legs, this she appearing not to notice, so was said.
    “My dearest one,” the other murmured, as if they had long been lovers. Making her lean back-and no great effort to it in her tearful state-he brought her soft, moist mouth beneath his own (“a little slobbery,” he said of it) and let her bubble on against his lips while his companion raised her skirt.
    “What are you at?” she moaned but neither kicked nor struggled over much as her black drawers were exposed and the fulsome rims of her white thighs were lavished with salutations by a lapping tongue.
    What are you at? How many a room has rung to this preposterous cry! It is indigenous to what are lately called the “suburbs,” I believe, and is frequently said by those who make no move to draw their clothes down once they have been ruffled up. It is a disguise to cover up confusion when desire obtains on both sides, but more shyly on the one than on the other.
    “It were best to have her resting on the bed,” was said.
    Her legs were lifted, heavy as they were. The other took her underneath the arms, and thus they carried her slung haplessly between them through the hall and up the stairs, she all the time a-sobbing but making no great cry-was like a great big floppy doll, they said, and mumbled as a sleepy child might while she was undressed, found to be all in black beneath, and this a wondrously voluptuous sight. Indeed, finding her so subservient, the gentlemen shed their trousers and handled her with teasing gentleness, the one drawing on her nipples while the other licked her honeypot.
    Then was she fucked. I find it best to say it plain. One sheathed his cock in her and brought her to a point of liquid pleasure, she a-crying softly all the time, but lying lax to let him have his will. A splendid mount she proved to be, said they. The other took the first one's place and loosed his own spermatic flood after much heaving.
    “What are you doing?” several times she moaned, but otherwise was silent. Then all three lay in those recumbent attitudes that follows satisfaction. Her face was turned this way and that between the pair to exchange kisses and her cunny tickled up again. “I am undone,” she sobbed without conviction, but she made no move to rise and was handled as easily as might a sleepy baby be, turned this way, that, her nether charms examined just as much as her plump mount.
    “A curious lady. One would not have too much of her. In bed she is too indolent, accepts all that might be done to her, protrudes her tongue upon command and whimpers when her bottom is well fiddled with. Indeed, old chap,” was told to me, “in the very midst of the most ardent play she confessed to feeling thirst the while that both her holes were being teased. I then”-he continued-“fetched some wine. We made her drink it from the bottle's neck while sitting up. She souses well-I will say that of her, and left us but a mouthful each. Our cocks being ready, we then placed her on her back again. Her legs spread easily enough. “Oh, not again!” she moaned. Her well-soaked cunt, though, received us both once more and then we tucked her into bed and left her to her dreams. She said naught as we left, hurled no remonstrances, was quite quiescent, sobbed a little still, but curled up like an infant with her back to us as we retreated. A week passed ere we thought to visit her again. She proved once more to be handled as quietly as might be and permitted us to perform on her again. Deuced strange. One takes them as one finds them, though, dear boy.”
    “Indeed,” said I. I felt no great astonishment at the story. Such ladies make bizarre excuses to themselves, I do believe, which is to say that they were made to or could not resist for fear of servants knowing. A grass widow, as she was, one cannot doubt that she enjoyed what she received. The gentlemen concerned were wise not to extend their visits on the first or second time. A lady who may be handled, as they said she might, but who has nothing to discourse of afterwards, proves dull eventually.
    “And wisely so,” says Caroline, “for she may not want to involve herself too much. We have as many weapons in our armoury, my pet, as you.”
    I would say they have more, in fact, but would not dream of confessing it to her. The coda to my tale of Aunt Lucy is one that I gained in a most roundabout way via a maid of the household whom a sovereign loosed her tongue.
    Aunt Lucy was a tippler on the quiet. One might have gathered that, of course, from the brief mention of her guzzling of the wine. Perhaps it allayed her tears, or even sometimes brought them on. Whatever the case, she lent herself to a most libertine occasion shortly after her first triple bout. Edwin, her son of callow years-a subaltern in early training-took leave with a friend of his one day and arrived home unexpectedly to hear her sobbing gently up above.
    “I say-what is to do? Lets go and see,” his friend exclaimed, whereat Edwin experienced a sense of unease, for knew his Mama's ways so far as tippling was concerned and would have ventured up himself, but his friend insisted-with all signs of solicitousness (and, I do not doubt, a certain curiosity) upon accompanying him.
    Somewhat inevitably they found the lady abed, naked and half uncovered. Down beside the bed a bottle lay. The room reeked both of perfume and of wine, the curtains were drawn to. An air of voluptuousness swam in the air.
    “Oh, it is you again!” Aunt Lucy uttered, blinking at the pair, and mistaking them in a moment of bibulous drowsiness for the gentlemen who had entertained her but a week before.
    “Mama?” asked Edwin nervously, though feeling a little stirred by the sight of her mammalian beauties, as was his friend.
    “Am thirsty. Fetch me water-no-champagne,” the lady uttered and then turned her back on them, disturbing the loose bedclothes as she did.
    The young men retreated. “I say, what an arse she has on her!” commented Edwin's friend, for they had viewed it half-uncovered as she turned.
    “WHAT a cad you are, Simpson!” responded Edwin and was said to have blushed fearfully.
    “The devil of it, though, she has a lovely one. Champagne-I say, what a jolly good idea!”
    Edwin's Mama was not so drowsy as they thought, where hangs the tale, though for myself, I thought her opportune. It chanced that a valet of the house bore the same name as Edwin's friend and she-supposing the two were the same (for she had seemingly but blinked at them for a fraction of a moment in her bleary state)-heard their murmurs on the stairs and called after them for Simpson to attend upon her rapidly.
    “I will do it, Mama,” called Edwin, only to be admonished through the door and told that it was not his place- the which he took, of course, in quite a different sense to what she had intended.
    “I say, your dear Mama must have taken a shine to me, what?” uttered Simpson who plainly had a letch on him to view that magnificent posterior once again. Hence despite the most embarrassed protests from Edwin 'twas he who bore the bottle and the chalice-so to speak-upstairs again while Edwin fiddled in the drawing room. These sounds and movements being observed, the maid in question listened from a cubbyhole and heard the selfsame moans of pleasure as emanated from above as Edwin did who fretfully strode back and forth. The bed squeaked. Slaps and smacks were heard-slobbery kisses, little grunts and groans. The lady was being injected once again, and no doubt held the bottle in her hand while Simpson gallantly took saddle in between her thighs.
    A half hour passed and then he reappeared.
    “Edwin, I say, I must begone,” he uttered hastily and made his exit, murmuring all the things one does on making such departures. Have we not all found it wise to do so now and then?
    Edwin, 'twas said, remained a-pacing and then decided to go up. In turn, I was about to say, but I would not slander the dear chap who was all to bits and pieces at the happening. The maid-sensible girl-removed her shoes and followed him, hid in a linen cupboard near the room where a voluptuous act had just ensued.
    “Pray, Mama, have you been assaulted?” Edwin asked.
    “I? I am constantly under assault, my pet. Have you been here long? Where have you been?”
    “That beast Simpson, I shall fight him for this!”
    “Simpson? The valet was not here. Some stranger, dear. They are all strange, the strangers, are they not? Come, comfort me. How I am put upon!”
    “Dearest Mama, where is your nightgown, where your clothes?”
    “I do not know, I do not know. No, do not pull the curtains, for the light shines in my eyes too strongly. Help me up.” She hiccuped, Edwin bleated, then a silence fell. A sucking sound ensued.
    “I think she had it in her mouth, sir, that I do,” the maid said.
    “She kisses soundfully-so I am told,” said I. The silly girl should have ventured out and peeped. How rarely such things happen when one wants a full, precise report!
    “Well, I don't know, sir. Anyway, there was mumblings, and she give a silly laugh or two, said 'Oh, you naughty boy,' and things like that.”
    “Things like that?” I was beginning to regret the departure of my sovereign from my hand to hers. She clutched it tightly; almost purposefully, I'd say.
    “Yes, sir. I think he had a feel. She said, “No, don't. Help me to put my drawers on, Edwin-fetch them from the drawer. Oh!'
    She gave a gasp and then I heard her smack him and she laughed. Said he were sorry, that he did, and then I heard him move about. He said, 'Oh, let me.'-'No,' she says, 'not yet.' There was more suckings-kisses if you like-and then she told him to go down. I peeped and looked. His cock was up all right. I saw it in his trousers, sticking up.”
    “Well, then, they didn't do it, Alice.”
    “No, sir. But he has a feel of her and she of him. Bertha, she's heard them at it several times. Tells him to keep his pecker up, she does, keep it in reserve for her. She teases him to madness, the poor boy.”
    “She made it up, you fool, all for a sovereign,” Caroline opined.
    “Perhaps,” I said. I believed the first half-not the second part. It was not in Lucy's character at all. One goes on instinct in these things.
    Besides-she would have cried and cried… And Alice had not mentioned that.


    Frequently in the past weeks while I have been at my scribblings, my emendations, crossings-out, addings and subtractings of words and phrases that I thought more felicitous than others, I have been reminded by Caroline that on no account must I omit that tale of Miss Miriam Crampton-Hythe. I had not intended to, of course. My notes had not yet reached that point, but on sufferance, as it were, I tell it now.
    The lady was thirty-eight, and I confess that of late I have had as much a penchant for maiden ladies of well-matured curves as I have for the sloe-eyed, winsome girls who are still brought occasionally to the divine sacrifice upon a couch downstairs or in our bed.
    The truth of it is that we have acquired quite a reputation in modulating the ways of these delicious things. I shall be chided at saying that and asked why I do not put it more plainly.
    “More plainly is not how I wish to put it,” I retort. I have even yet to catch the touch of things; I say this with due modesty. There is positively no describing of the transition of the hand from a stockinged thigh to the frilled leg of the drawers above. Others, I find (for I have occasionally haunted the bookshops in Holywell Street, in London), do not bother with such things. They merely say, “I fucked the girl,” or “felt her tits.” The effort is enormous, I confess, to emulate, in such congregated letters as form words, the sensations of the flesh, the bouncing of warm titties underneath one's chest, the sometimes fretful wrigglings of the legs, the clutchings of one's shoulders that ensue, the pantings from pursed lips.
    “Let us tickle up her bottom,” Caroline or Adelaide will often say to me on viewing a new prospect. Such invariably are around eighteen or so, and ripe for it. I am ever amazed at the hoards of words, of dancing images, that crowd into my mind when I hear such. What a perfect delight it is to uncover the pale bottom of a squealing girl! The enchantment is ever new, whatever one may think of it in terms of dull morality.
    I stray again, you see, am like a man who one day would eat chocolate cake and another day prefers an orange sponge, creamfilled. A hedonist-yes, I confess it, but will stray no more and will come to Miriam.
    In the Spring prior to our meeting her, Miriam apparently had cause to dismiss her two servants and took on another pair-a general house-man in his early thirties, and a maid of younger aspect. I do not doubt that the pair were skilled at reading character in their employers. Miriam appeared to them a figure of considerable loneliness, and isolated in a lonely house. Truth to tell-and as I later read the matter-there was an element of self-flagellation in the lady. In the new parlance of our time, it is lately called “masochism,” though I do not take happily to the word and find it foreign.
    Whatever may have been the cause of Miriam's strange submissions, a telling element-as she described-was the apparent devotion that Carrie, the maid, accorded her almost from her first evening there. Even the houseman, Charlie, gazed upon her with a seeming awed devotion- and this in utter counterpoint, I say, to the general indolence and remoteness of the pair she had dismissed, so she reported.
    Being thus flattered and cosseted, the pair seemed more to her as cousins rather than mere servants. Hot chocolate was brought to her the moment she awoke, even though she had not ordered it. Her pillows were plumped up; she was made comfortable. Toast that was always warm and well-buttered was presented to her lips.
    “The valet would enter my bedroom with the tray while Carrie fussed about me. It was unseemly, of course, yet I permitted it; such was the general air of comforting,” said Miriam, for it is best that I should let her be the narrator in great part. “Being attired only in my nightgown, I would sometimes feel his eyes dwelling on the prominences of my bosom. He would gaze at me gravely, as if with adoration, then retire. A sigh would accompany his exit, and then Carrie, too, would sigh.
    “I asked her one day what ailed them and if they were not well enough treated, for the sighs became abundant.”
    “'Madame-how can you say such? We cannot do enough for you. Perhaps it is unseemly to speak of affection between servants and Mistress, but we both adore you so. My most fervent prayer is that upon that sad day when I come to leave your service, I may kiss you once.'
    “'Carrie, what a strange request!' I said. A vaguely uncomfortable and yet curious feeling seized me. So softly and in such an enamoured manner were the words put that I uttered no remonstrance as she sat upon the bed beside me and gave me an utterly winsome look as if to beg my pardon.
    “I cannot help myself, Madame. Were I to kiss you now, would you dismiss me? Pray tell me?'
    “My tongue seemed cloved to the roof of my mouth. It was the most astonishing question that had ever been put to me. I endeavoured to speak, but thereat she took the tray from across my lap where I sat in bed and deposited it on a table at the side without rising. Foolishly I thought her to be preparing for me to get up, but in the next instant her hand took hold of my hair at the back and with a horrified cry I felt my head being forced down into the pillow.
    “'First I am going to kiss you and feel your breasts. Then I am going to have you,' she declared.
    “I opened my mouth to shriek. That was evidently what she wished for. Her lips descended savagely on my own while her free hand thrust down inside my nightgown and began to fondle my naked bosom. Ah, how I heaved and struggled, but so strong was the impression of her mouth over my own that I could not escape it. Her tongue had the temerity to enter my mouth. While so doing, she drew out her hand, leaving my breasts tingling from her touch, thrust the bedclothes down to my ankles and then insinuated her fingers beneath the hem of my nightgown until they had reached first my thighs and then my…”
    “Your cunny, darling-say it plain,” said Caroline, then urged her to go on.
    “My cunny, yes. I bucked, I tried to kick. The wicked girl was on me like a tigress then. Scooping her black dress up, she fought her way between my flailing legs and brought her thing… her cunny… rubbing up to mine the while she seized my wrist and held them right above my head.
    “I moaned her name and told her to get off or I would scream for Charlie.
    “'Madam, if you do, I swear he'll come in with his trousers off,' she laughed and ground her oily lovelips fiercely then to mine, kissing my mouth, my nose, my eyes until I knew not whether it was day or night, whether I dreamed it or whether it was real. I knew myself to be succumbing and I hated it. The friction of her pubic hairs to mine excited me. I felt her button like a tiny bud against my own.
    “I pleaded with her, sobbed, and worked my legs in vain. I tried to heave her off, but still she clung.
    “'Give in to me,' she whispered.-'Never, no' said I, but already the sensations of this amourous combat had fired my veins against my will. My sobs grew weaker and I let her take my lips more easily. The moisture between our mouths, the flickerings of her tongue, excited me as did the rubbings of our most intimate parts, for Carrie-like most servants-wore no drawers. The girl was agile, twisting all about. Our cunnies oiled the more we writhed. I had a feeling in my belly then and in between my legs.
    “'You see, it is nice!' she laughed upon my mouth, for one woman discerns the weakness of another quicker than a male.
    “'No, no!' I moaned, but nothing would avail. She was full couched between my thighs and rubbed her stocking tops against my flesh.
    “'Come — you are coming-so am I! she gasped. I was-and to my horror then I clasped my arms about her shoulders tight and moaned out words I never thought to speak. We gulped and sucked upon each other's lips. The desperate delicious crisis was upon us both. Melting we melted, spurting out our bliss. Then she rubbed on and made us come again, again, until I felt transported.”
    “Dearest Miriam, had you not come before?” asked Adelaide, causing the lady to blush exceedingly.
    “Oh yes, for I had been put to my trials in youth and had taken the penis and its spoutings then. Oh, I should not have said that!” Miriam cried and covered up her face.
    “And pray, why not? Obedience when joined to pleasure is a lovesome thing. We too were jousted in our beds, the sheet rucked underneath our bottoms while our cunnies sucked upon the cock, my dear. Continue, do-you have not told us half of it,” said Caroline.
    “The shame is mine. No sooner did we lie in palpitating wonder than I found myself again the receiver of Carrie's ardent caresses. Foolish woman that I was, I truly believed her to be enamoured of me and-as I must confess it-I delighted in her youth. Kneeling above me and casting off her dress, she brought me to remove my nightgown or rather, I should say, so ruffled it up that it was easily drawn over my head.
    “'We must stop, Carrie,' I said weakly enough.
    “'Why, dearest, we are only at beginnings. Lick my pussy now. Come, do it while I straddle you.'
    “Such an idea had never entered my mind before, though the idea of congress with another female was of course not so obnoxious by then as otherwise it would have been. In a flash she had moved upwards over my prone body, her titties swinging as she did. I made to raise my arms to weakly fend her off, but with a laugh she pinned my forearms with her knees and said, 'Lie still!' Thereupon she caused her bottom to descend upon my face and squashed her cunny full over my mouth. I spluttered, kicked, but thus she held me, saying 'Lick-oh do! I love to have a tongue there-and yours is nice!' The lips of her honeypot were salty, oily, splurged upon my mouth. I whimpered, snuffled, then she reached back, slapped my thighs, and ordered me again to use my tongue. At the same time-maintaining one arm behind her back-she began to tickle up my quim. You see, I have a boldness now to use such words,” said Miriam and laughed and blushed.
    “Go on, my dear. Words are but tokens,” Adelaide declared. The four of us were chez nous and in comfort then. Wine had been taken and we lolled at ease.
    “I found myself, then, in that curious condition, which is not unknown to females, in which I both wished to escape and yet did not. I protruded my tongue and found her spot. Thereat, believing me to be then as free in my lewdness as she, Carrie raised herself an inch or so, the better that I could attend to her.
    “'Yes, yes, — come on!' she panted, on and off-and I, her Mistress, was the obedient one! But then, on my horror, a footfall sounded and a voice was heard. That it was that of Charlie you have no need even to guess.
    “'Ah, you have her ready,' he declared. I could not see, of course, but how I kicked and writhed in vain to throw her off!
    “'Quickly, she is struggling again,' Carrie said.
    “I had almost unhorsed her when he came on me. I felt his nakedness, his shirt upraised, the fearful prodding of his extended prick against my thigh! I screamed as best as I could scream, but of course she found her place again and muffled me.
    “'What legs she has-what an arse-what lovely tits!' I heard, and then my legs were held beneath his arms and raised. His throbbing weapon came against my quim. My thighs were tightly held. I tried to beat my hands; my arms were pinned.
    “'Are you in her?' I heard Carrie ask.
    “'Just the knob,' he grunted. I had felt it enter. Being moist and open, I received it easily and felt the plum swell just within. My legs were thrust back higher then. My knees touched in Carrie's back. ”
    “'Give her a good fuck, Charlie. She is worthy of attention,' Carrie said amidst my splutterings. Oh god, to feel his cock sheathe in me then-the awfulness of it! She had my head gripped and I could not turn my face. 'Now, lick me properly,” she spat and moved her rounded bottom all about. Dear heavens, I know not how to describe the torrid ardour of those moments. My own manservant was beginning to f… f… fuck me. His prick slewed slowly in and out. I felt his balls smack underneath my bottom at each stroke.
    “'She will be a good one,' I heard him say.
    “'I told you-didn't I?' Carrie replied, then gave a giggle. Reaching forward then, she let him lick her bottom while his strokes increased.
    “'She's tight; I can't hold it much,' he said.
    “'You'll have her again-I'll see you do,' said Carrie.
    “Nightmare and pleasure mingled. Oh my dears, I cannot otherwise describe it. The girl sprinkled my mouth with her salty spendings. I heard her hissing out her joy. Despite myself my mouth was open to her little flood while Charlie pumped me faster, smacking down his belly on to mine. Hating myself, I felt myself expend my juices once again in turn.
    “'Get off her, Carrie, quick. She's spilling-so am I,' he groaned. The girl was off me in a flash, then he was down upon me flat. 'Fuck, woman, I am coming in you. Carrie, hold her ankles-hold them wide.'
    “I was, I believe, almost beyond struggling. Carrie sped around to the end of the bed and seized my feet and held them well apart. His mouth mashed down on mine, my titties swelled beneath his chest.
    “'Work your arse, woman-take it up you,' he groaned and pinched my bottomcheeks and made me jolt. I clawed at him-he heeded not. 'Suck in my come,' he said and then I felt his throbs, his splashings, awful splashings on and on, yet feared the pleasure of it as I writhed beneath and drained him to the final drop whereat he quivered and lay still, bore all his weight on me. I let my arms go limp. My feet dropped down on to the bed as Carrie loosed them.
    “'Get off me,' I moaned at last. I kept my eyes closed and my face averted. Still his prick throbbed weakly in me, then withdrew. 'You are dismissed!' I sobbed. How foolish that did sound, I do confess!
    “'I will sponge her,' Carrie said. Then he rolled off me, but he held my wrists above my head as she had done while she went out.
    “'I shall report this,' I moaned.
    “He laughed. 'Shut up. I ain't had the best of you yet. Show me your bum now-let me see it clear.'
    “I shrieked despair. He laughed and rolled me over, held my neck in a firm grip and began to stroke my nether cheeks, I crying all the time, of which he took no heed. 'Be quiet!' he growled and gave me a huge smack upon my bottom, then he stroked it up again and fingered me most shamefully, right in between. I wriggled, gasped and begged him please to stop. Then Carrie came back in, a warm wet cloth in hand.
    “'Don't smack her yet, Charlie. She'll be all right, I think. Is she tight there?'
    “'Tight as a drum. A nice brown ring she's got around it, though.'
    “'I expect she's had it up there. Most girls of her class do when they're young. It breaks them in, they say-and they has got the cheek to talk about morality and refuse the cocks of those who serve them well. Let me sponge her now, Charlie. Turn her over-sit her up.'
    “'Stop this!' I moaned. There were no words to say then that made sense. I made to claw at him; he grabbed my arms. “'Here you are, Charlie; I expected this,' said Carrie- and then from underneath my own bed drew a length of rope where she had hidden it before this horror started. In a trice they had my wrists bound tight behind my back. 'She'll be a good girl now, I s'pect; a good girl won't you be?' said Carrie while I cried. She sponged my face, they forced me to lie down and did the same between my legs, I caught twixt tears and threats which they ignored. It would be pointless to repeat my words; you all know what they would have been.”
    “I would have said nothing-to confound them,” Adelaide remarked.
    “It came to that later, dear, but in my first astonishment…”
    “Yes, Miriam, you are right. Adelaide, you are speaking in hindsight,” Caroline opined.
    “I suppose I am,” Adelaide said and looked contrite. She sat with Miriam and kissed her as she spoke. The two held hands and looked content, as well they might, for Miriam had spent the night with her, and very tousled was their bed at morn!
    “Let us have lunch,” I said, “and then we'll hear the rest.”


    “I was made to rise,” said Miriam after lunch. The wine had brought more colour to her cheeks and made her tongue more bold. “I stood naked and helpless, viewed with lewd eyes by the pair who remarked between them on the boldness of my tits, the rearing of my bottom and the thickness of my pubic bush. I was turned about and my bottom lightly smacked again.
    “'We had best have her downstairs,' Charlie said.
    “How I struggled down those familiar stairs! Had I but had neighbours, I would have screamed my head off, but the nearest carriages pass a full half a mile away, and these two knew that well. I resorted again to tears; I could not help myself. Carrie remained in my bedroom for a moment while Charlie led me down. My bottom appeared to fascinate him, for he caressed it all the time in our descent and patted it to make me walk before him into the drawing room.
    “'Let me go; I will say nothing;' I pleaded.
    “'Sit, woman!' he commanded me and made me take a seat upon the sofa. Then Carrie hurried down. She held my purple cloak in one hand.
    “'Let her put this on and keep her shoulders warm,' she said. She coiled it round me where I sat and fastened the clip across my neck that it would not slip off. Only then did I see what else she held: a broad collar and a lead such as dogs wear. I screeched, tried to fall sideways, but Charlie held me up and the shameful collar was slipped around my neck and strap. The leather lead hung down my back.
    “'What will you do to me?' I sobbed.
    “'No harm will come to you if you obey. Charlie will fuck you regularly. I'll wager that is something you'll have missed. You'll pleasure both of us, that's what,' said Carrie, but my tear-streaked eyes must then have moved her a little for as I sat there swaying and all in a maze at what had suddenly come upon me, so she told Charlie to fetch me a brandy. At that I foolishly blurted out that I did not want one, for I never drank at that hour, but I was ignored. For a moment or two it seemed that Charlie had reverted to being a modest manservant again, for he did her bidding and returned with a tray bearing three glasses. My nose was then held, my head drawn back, and I was forced to imbibe while spluttering much which caused them great amusement.
    “I need not repeat to you, my dears, how often I pleaded with them to let me go. Sometimes they ignored me, having the temerity to sit on either side of me on the couch while they discoursed as if I were not there. At other times I was shushed as though I were a child. Carrie held my lead and kept my head upright. Finally she turned upon her hip to me and uttered quite a speech, the essence only of which I will repeat.
    “'You are from the better class, or so it is called, Miriam. When your bottom is tickled by one of so-called lower status than yourself, you shriek out like a school girl and are horrified. I know your forms of sport, though, well enough.'
    “These words, being uttered in quite a different voice to the one I was accustomed to hearing, I turned my face to her in some surprise. This pleased her greatly and she smiled.
    “'So-I have your full attention at last, have I? I am not as you think, but for the moment that is neither here nor there. Girls of your class are trained, put up, brought on to it, put to your trials. Were you not, Miriam, or did some chance of fate keep you a virgin?”
    “'What?' I demanded, though being aware that even to reply to her was an insult to myself.
    “'Get up when I speak to you!' she snapped and tugged so hard upon my collar that I choked. Charlie but laughed and smacked my thighs.
    “'Do as she says,' he uttered, 'or it will be the worse for you.'
    “I feared that it would. 'Will not you then release me?' I asked with quivering lips.
    “'I promise nothing. Just behave yourself,' said Carrie, retaining still what seemed to me the entirely new modulation of her voice which spoke of a class above her own.
    “I rose, was made to turn, and so looked down on them. In utter shame I stood. The cloak flowed open at the parting of my legs and showed my bush.
    “'Charlie, fetch her stockings and shoes; she must be properly attired.'
    “It occurred to me then that he seemed in part to be under her spell, for he obeyed without demur and made his way upstairs. 'The blue, ribbed ones-I like them best,' she called. 'Yes,' he replied, and in a moment came back down. She then said bleakly to me, 'Let him put them on. He will have a feel up you; they always do; do you remember?'
    “I flushed at her words. There was something in her words that presaged a knowledge as to my past. With one arm rudely between my legs, Charlie drew my stockings on and fastened them with garters. Then my black shoes followed. Carrie looked at me most critically. Having girded me tightly in my stockings, Charlie passed his forefinger slowly in between the lips of my quim and said, 'She's sticky still.'
    “'Of course, she would be; so am I. You will fuck her again shortly, Charlie.'
    “'Oh no!' I gasped, but was ignored.
    “'Charlie dear, fetch tea and biscuits. Breakfast was too long ago. Have a good drink of beer-I know you want to.'
    “'Yes, all right,' he grinned, and was gone again.
    “'Carrie-please!' I begged the moment that the door was closed.
    “She stood in turn and smiled, then suddenly scooped up my cloak and soothed her hand around my naked bottom cheeks.
    “'I like your bottom, Miriam. It is silky, warm and full, the way a woman's bottom should be. Some are pear-shaped-really quite awful. Yours is round and plump. Fruitful, I would say. Have you heard the term before?'
    “I shook my head-screwed up my eyes. The tip of her forefinger had worked up into my aperture between my cheeks and entered to the first knuckle. I uttered a small squeal.
    “'Has it been a long time?' she asked laughing.
    “'What is it that you want of me?' I moaned.
    “'Were you fruitful? At what age did you first suck in the juice? Was he kind to you-unkind? Were you birched beforehand? Did you struggle much-call out for your Mama?'
    “'I do not know of what you speak,' I cried.
    “'Oh, you know well enough,' she urged and wiggled her finger in and out, making my hips to churn. Then, scooping her free palm underneath my mount, she cupped my quim and rubbed me there and made me squint and murmur incoherently. 'You have nothing to say,' she said. Her newfound accent was upheld still and confounded me.
    “'Who are you, that you speak thus?' I asked.
    “'In due course you may know, or you may not. Ah, Charlie, yes, you dear. I'll have mine first and then she may have hers. Take hold of her lead and hold her steady while I sit.'
    “I was thus held. Carrie picked up her cup and began to drink. She sat immediately below me and made me keep my eyes on her-or rather, Charlie did by tugging on my collar. Slowly she sipped and said, 'She has a beautiful cunt, Charlie. Do you want to have her standing up?'
    “'I do, yes.' My moans of despair were again ignored.
    “'You shall in a minute, then. Let me tickle her up first and have her ready for you.' So speaking, she placed her cup and saucer down, untied her boot and then with studied insolence worked her stockinged foot up in between my legs and leaning back, tickled my cunny with her toes. 'She likes this,' she laughed. I could not move, of course. He stood behind me. 'Just keep your hands on her shoulders, Charlie; hold her still. I like to see her thus.'
    “I hissed my breath in. The titillation of her stockinged toes insinuated on and on. I felt my cunny moisten, felt my knees give, but she kicked me when they did.
    “'I think she is ready for you, Charlie. Take her against the wall. I want to watch.'
    “'No! Save me!' I screamed with utter foolishness. He pulled me backwards-not too roughly, I confess-and then confronted me and made me lean my back against the wall that faced the couch where Carrie sat. Opening his trousers then, he got his big prick out. I need hardly say that he was in a state of fierce erection once again.
    “'Bend your knees a bit,' he husked at me. I made to press against his shoulders, but he grabbed the lead and held my head back and the collar tightened.
    “'Bend your knees, you stupid,' Carrie called across the room. I wilted and obeyed, my legs splayed open. How obscene I felt! 'Now get it up her, Charlie-make it last. I want to watch her face. She'll go all flushed,' laughed Carrie. Ah, my god, and then he prodded me with it, explored my cuntlips-oh forgive the term! — and clasped my bottom strongly while he surged it up, making me straighten my legs when it was in, our bellies pressed together, his hot breath upon my cheek.
    “'Christ! She's a lovely fuck, Miss! Clamps it tight around my prick, she does.'
    “'I know; she would. Now pump her very slowly, Charlie-very slow.'
    “I heard a-gasping as he did. 'Look at me Miriam, while he does it to you,' Carrie said. Try as I might, I could not help but meet her eyes. My chin rested haplessly upon his shoulders, all his fingers dug into my fleshy bottom cheeks. 'Ah, you look stupid, but lewd, Miriam; are you enjoying it?' came her next words. Charlie was puffing as he worked my slit. His big cock throbbed inside me and his pubic hairs rubbed into mine. I believe, for a moment or two-and to my utter shame-that an animality took hold of me. I did not wish to avert my eyes from hers. I wanted her to look, to see my thighs a-quivering, my legs held wide apart. Bound as my wrists were still, my fingers twined together.
    “'Ho!' I sobbed.
    “'Really, Charlie, she is beginning to like it. I can hear her bottom bumping to the wall!'
    “'Oh, please-oh, please,' I sobbed, but knew not what I pleaded for.
    “'She wants to feel you come, Charlie, but don't loose it yet. Bring her away from the wall now but keep it in her. Both of you turn round now. Turn her bum to me.'
    “'Ah! What!' I choked. How ludicrous the stance we then obtained. He had had me finally up on tiptoe against the wall, but now it was not possible. He bent his knees the more to ram his piston in and out while Carrie came behind us both and fingered up my bottomhole.
    “'Hold the lead, Charlie! Keep her head forward- over your shoulder.'
    “'Oh, god, I'm almost coming-she's so tight!'
    “'I have my finger up her bottomhole-that's why!'
    “I gurgled, choked. I was possessed by both. Her finger could feel the moving of his cock within. My head swam and I burbled out I know not what. I began to come; I sprayed his prick and felt it seem to swell the more, and then he came. In mighty leaps of sperm he came and flooded me. The pellets and the strings of sperm came on and on while Carrie gritted, 'Both of you-now do it, now!'
    “I remember falling afterwards upon my knees-remembered the last pulsings of his prick and how it finally slipped without and dripped his spendings on my thighs. I felt repulsed and yet excited, too.”
    “No one has ever done that to me,” said Adelaide.
    “They will in a moment if you are not quiet,” I rejoined, and we all laughed.
    “I was permitted to slither down on to my belly. 'Have your tea, Charlie,' said Carrie, 'and then feed her.' Within minutes I was made to sit up on the rug, tea was brought to my lips, and then biscuits. I was fed like a child. Again I was sponged, but that time it was Charlie who performed the chore.
    “'We will go out now, Charlie, for a ride. I rather fancy her little carriage,' Carrie said. I wailed at that.
    “'Do not leave me alone and tied,' I wailed. Carrie appeared for a moment to consider my plight.
    “'Very well, you will be put to bed and your door locked,' she declared. With some effort, Charlie then scooped me up like a child and bore me up. In the bedroom he untied my wrists, then tucked me underneath a sheet.
    “'Be quiet. It will be better for you if you are,' he said. I divined again that he was not the leader of the two, then Carrie entered and said briskly, 'Leave her to me for a moment.'
    “On his departure, I made to sit up, but she pressed me down and held my shoulders, looking enquiringly into my face.
    “'Be still and listen, Miriam, for every word I say is true-and by now you know it is. Charlie will have your bottom later.' She was about to continue when I clutched at her and begged her once again to let me go.
    “'Let you go, indeed? Do you not live here? We are merely-shall we say-visitors. It is for us to leave and you to stay. In our good time. You have had two good spermings, Miriam. No more than you have had before, but now your bottom must be tapped once more. Once more, I say. Has it been long? Have you not missed the sport?'
    “'I do not know what you mean,' I quavered.
    “'If you do not, then you will have had the first pleasures of it, will you not? If you do-and I discover it- you will suck his cock, Miriam, before you take it up your bottom, and I promise that.'
    “'Oh, how horrible!'
    “'You dissemble well,' she laughed, 'but no doubt you were taught to. It is one of the conventions of your kind, I think.'
    “For a moment I began-as I thought-to recover myself. Wild ideas of clawing at her face and making my escape came to me, but I have never been able to effect such cruelty on another and even then the thought of marring her attractive face repelled me.
    “'I know nothing of the horrible, lewd things you are talking about,' I said. Her face was above my own. I felt diminished.
    “'Do you not, Miriam? Then perhaps I am a better teacher than I was a servant. I will proceed with what I intended to say. Charlie will give your bottom a good poke tonight. I mean to watch his prick sink in between these fulsome cheeks of yours. My greatest pleasure is to see it buried in. If you resist, you will be birched, and soundly. Yes, I have a birch, my dear. I came prepared, you see.'
    “'You cannot, cannot, Carrie-please!' I moaned. I had clasped my hands together fretfully. She seized my wrists.
    “'In the morning, my dear, Charlie will exercise you again. Is the phrase not familiar to you? I believe it is. You will lie prone, you legs apart. I shall not bind you; you will simply let him fuck you, as I want. You will not cry, nor moan, nor stir. I want your tongue deep in his mouth with every stroke.'
    “'Oh, you will have two birchings, then, will you? Very well. I love to wield the birch on a bottom as fruitful as yours!'
    “'With that she sprang up and made towards the door. The key was in her hand, my feet entangled in the sheet. I knew I could not rise in time.
    “'Carrie, no! I will do anything!' I begged.
    “'You will obey,' she uttered coldly and then was gone. The key turned and the bedroom door was locked. I was alone. A nightmare of waiting ensued, but then Nature intervened; I slept, cuddling my cunny as if protectively. Upon awakening, I heard them stirring below and wondered frantically at what I might do. The thought possessed me to dress. How foolish I had not thought of that immediately, or before I slept! I leapt from the bed, still naked to my stockings as I was, then stood defensively as Carrie entered.
    “'Come down,' she said, 'he wants to do it now.'”


    “I had removed my collar on rising,” Miriam continued, “but Carrie did not appear to mind. Perhaps she saw what I had failed to see in my moment of attempted bravery. I had not the urgency of will; I was succumbing to her. Indeed, she did not even bother to move from the doorway.
    “'Come, Miriam. I have the birch downstairs,' she said quietly. Tears flooded my eyes. I wanted neither to step forward nor back. I was as a young girl again who knows that she must put her bottom up. Carrie saw this, for she stepped forward and took my hand. 'Was it not nice the first time you had it?' she asked. There was almost kindness in her voice. I blinked.
    “'I didn't,' I said.
    “A sigh came from her. 'Miriam, you merit six strokes of the birch for that. I will ask you again. Was it not nice the first time?'
    “I drooped my head. She loosed her hand from mine, placed it at the back of my head as if to still me and tickled my cunny with her forefinger. I jerked. She laughed. I was warm and sticky there from sleep, and she could feel it.
    “'No,' I mumbled.
    “'And the second time? I may make Charlie go away if you are truthful, Miriam. After he has exercised you, as I said.'
    “My heart leapt, but I knew not whether to believe her or not. 'Wasn't awful,' I mumbled.
    “'But now at-what? — say thirty-five or so you fear to put your bottom to another big grown man?'
    “'I don't like him!' I wailed childishly, at which she tutted.
    “'That is irrelevant, Miriam, and you know it. It was not given to you to choose in the first place, and neither shall it be now. Besides, it feels naughtier, does it not, than if your husband did it. Come!'
    “I cannot describe to you what it felt like to be led downstairs again. Charlie waited, naked to his shirt. Like one who fears to drown, I clutched at Carrie's words that she might make him go. His cock stuck out obscenely to my sight. The birch hung down beside his leg, he grinned, and once again surveyed me up and down most lecherously.
    “'She has to be birched, Charlie, first. You will hold her.'
    “'No-no!' I shrieked. I turned and rushed past her to the door. Alas, she had locked it on our entrance and she held the key.
    “'Good. I wanted to see that! Hold her well, Charlie.'
    “I screamed again, but naught availed. Charlie seized me, bent me underneath his arm and thus secured me, bottom up, passing the birch to Carrie as he did. Oh, how she burned me with it!
    “'Come, you bitch, now let me see you wriggle it,' she laughed while my howls filled the air and the searing twigs hissed fierce across my upheld bottom cheeks. I surged my hips this way and that, but each time that I did she caught me well across the centre of my derriere.
    “'No more-no more!' I cried. She had said six. I had received a dozen at the least. My poor hot bottom seemed to swell.
    “'Very well. Let her rise, Charlie. Now, Madam, go to the table, bend over it with your legs apart and await your conqueror.' sweee-isssh! The birch struck as she spoke. I yelped and jumped. The room swam all about me through my tears. I staggered, turned. The table she had indicated was that broad oak one that you saw, Caroline. I know not how I reached it, then I sagged upon it, bottom out-thrust and my feet awry. I tried to clutch the further edge. It was too far away. 'Properly, Miriam, as you were doubtless taught. Legs spread, back dipped and well-orbed up,' she spat. I heard a movement of the birch and sobbingly obeyed.
    Charlie approached me slowly then and touched my flaming bottom with his hands. I flinched. He spread the cheeks apart. I wilted, closed my eyes, screwed them up tight.
    “'She'll nip you nicely, Charlie, once it's in.'
    “'I know she will. She's got the stance for it, though. You were right.'
    “'I told you, Charlie, they all have to. She's been breached by a prick as big as yours before, and in her maidenhood as well. Put it in slowly-let me see. Half in and hold it there.'
    “I thought I heard my voice moan out, but it was only in my mind. My rosette was displayed to him. He neared his knob to it; I heard him catch his breath. And then he urged it in the rubbery aperture. 'Ah-ah!' I squealed. He gripped my neck. I felt him push; I yielded. Inches of hard cock insinuated in my bottomhole and there were gripped. I gasped. I felt my breath rush out.
    “'Go slowly, Charlie. Hold it for a minute there. Oh, what a lovely sight! Now-ram her with it to the root and then hold still.'
    “'NAR-AH!' I choked. One sleek, strong movement of his loins and his penis was embedded to the full. I felt his balls swing underneath my cunny-then he gripped my hips.
    “'What an arse she has on her,' he groaned.
    “'Exactly, Charlie. Did we not choose well? I want to see it bumping to your thrusts; I want to see it wriggling as it used to do. Now, give it to her. Pump it as a man should pump a lovely bottom such as hers.'
    “'Moo-mooo-moo-mooo!' I moaned. His piston worked. His belly smacked against my hot-scorched cheeks, and yet the suction that I exercised was such that he had to work to urge it in and out, grunting with satisfaction as he did, the backs of my thighs a-wobble to his own.
    “'She's good-she don't resist too much,' he said.
    “'I know; we'll have to train her more for this.'
    “'I heard the words of Carrie in despair, and yet- ashamed as I am to say-a feeling of desire swept over me. I was a girl again. I knew my naughtiness, and yet I needed it. My bottom seemed to balloon the more against his loins. I wriggled and I whinnied. Carrie laughed.
    “'In future, she will need two or three men at her bottom, Charlie.'
    “'Yes, I know. She squeezes nicely-not too hard.' He bent upon me, scooped my breasts upon his palms and felt the nipples rigid with desire.
    “'Turn your head, Miriam. Give him your tongue! Do it, or I shall birch you afterwards all round the room!'
    “'Ow-woh!' I heard my own despairing cry, yet knew it not so much despair as helpless lust. A servant man was at me, up my bottom, so I told myself, and yet it helped not in the red caves of desire. I turned my face, lips parted, our mouths mashed. He sucked my tongue.
    “'I am up you, Madam. Do you like it?'
    “I gurgled out reply. I know not what I uttered.
    “'Work your bottom more-come on,' he urged. I sobbed between his lips. I urged my bottom back and forth. His piston flashed. A first long stream of sperm leapt up his stem. He rammed it tightly in. I squeezed my bottom cheeks upon his root. Our tongues lashed and he came again. I felt the spattering, the gruelly shoots so deep within, and balled my bottom fiercely to his loins until he spent his last, then ticked-away the final pearly drops.”
    “Miriam, dear, you should have been a writer, too,” Caroline declared and gazed at me and gave a nod as though to say there was in the stricken lady's words some evocation of fine prose.
    “I have had time to think upon it. Indeed, little else has gone through my mind. Such tortured visions have I had. The cork being withdrawn, I was told by Carrie-as if indeed I might be a child-that I was to return to my bed and that lunch would be brought to me. In endeavouring to regain my dignity, I did not reply, but of a sudden great waves of despair shook my frame. Upon reaching the bedroom-which seemed no longer the retreat it had once been but a place of imprisonment-I cast myself of my own accord face down upon the bed and cried my heart out.
    “'Come-get on. to the bed properly and be covered up,' Carrie said from above me.
    “'I would rather die than endure any more of this!' I wailed. What seizure took me, I do not know, for I had obtained a certain shameful pleasure in the act which had just occurred and my bottom tingled most agreeably. That is the most hateful part of it-to be brought to desire one has not sought and then must suffer the consequences of, in terms of the remonstrances of one's soul.
    “There was, on my dressing table, a pair of scissors I had used for cutting out some material. Before Carrie realised my intention, I sprang up-almost knocking her backwards in the process-and seized them and pointed them to my breast.
    “'Do not stop me-I mean to kill myself,' I cried. The points of the scissors touched my skin and made an indentation there.
    “'Oh, dear God, no!' came her cry, and it was one of such despair itself that I halted the pressure of my wrist in the same moment that she leapt forward and turned the steely instrument away… 'Oh, what have I done!' she wailed, and to my utter astonishment fell to her knees and clasped her arms around my thighs.
    “The scissors fell. They clattered down beside her hip. I swayed. I knew not what to do.
    “'Leave me alone!' I uttered for want of else to say.
    “'No, I cannot, for I have wronged you deeply! It is all my fault-I am accursed, I know I am. No more harm shall come to you, I swear!'
    “She raised her face to mine past my belly and I saw the streaming tears upon her face-tears that were real and exuded like a flood. On and on she cried and clutched me till I feared to stir in case of falling forward over her.
    “Was I then, after all my horrid tribulations, to beseech her to calm herself? How strange the situation was! I could say naught but to plead with her to let me lie down. Immediately I did so, she rose and escorted me back to the bed, one arm about my waist and saw to my comfort with great tenderness. I feared a trap, and yet her tears were real enough. She cast herself beside me in an awkward pose, legs half upon the floor, and pressed her glistening cheek to mine, begging my forgiveness on and on.
    “'How can I believe you after the horrid way you have both treated me?' I asked.
    “'This is no trick-I swear it to you. I will make him go upon the instant, if you wish.'
    “I did not answer. I feared the temptation that came upon me then to embrace her and believe her. I turned away and put my back to her. Upon that, still uttering the most heartfelt sobs, she rose and hastened downstairs.
    “I waited trembling. I feared the renewed eruption of Charlie into the room. I had not reason to doubt his virility and thought he would be upon me again. I resolved to be placid and let him take his will of me. I saw no other way. Then came to my ears what sounded like altercations. An argument was ensuing. Carrie sounded fierce. He bellowed something at her, but then her own voice softened. There were whispers that I could not hear. Then Carrie's footsteps sounded up the stairs once more. I feigned a swoon, but she took me in her arms and swore to me that in but minutes he would be gone. I lay as if I did not hear and kept my eyes closed. Thereupon feet again upon the stairs and in alarm I clutched at her.
    “'He has but gone upstairs to fetch his things,' she said. The sounds of his further ascent up to the servants' quarters came to my ears, though still I feared a trick, but then I heard him rummaging. One knows by instinct, I suppose, when certain moves are being made. He was not long about the matter, made his descent and hesitated at the half open door. I stiffened. Carrie held me close.
    “'He wants to tell you he is sorry,' she said.
    “'Tell him to go.' I gritted out the words.
    “'Yes, go, Charlie. I will see you at the inn,' she called. The next few seconds were to me a terrible eternity.
    “'Yes,' he replied, then clattered down. The front door slammed, and he was gone. I sensed it not to be a trick and stirred myself. Such a sense of freedom came over me as I could not believe. I sat up. Carrie made no attempt to stop me, but in my doing so she cast her face between my naked breasts and begged forgiveness once again.
    “'I am accursed-I am accursed!' she cried once more. Upon that, and to my own great astonishment, I passed my arms around her, for her grief was truly real. Her tears trickled down between my breasts; I felt them all around her mouth. We rocked together and we moaned like sisters who are both in sin. I truly thought to know not who I was, nor who she was. That she was no mere servant girl had been plain to me from the moment that her voice had changed. Her tone was one of real gentility. And then her story tumbled out, and often enough in broken words I could not catch. I will truncate it for you. Charlie was her cousin-a poor relative. They had been brought up together in what at first was a house of great piety. Then, at the age of fifteen as Carrie then was, her father had remarried. Unbeknown to him, the girl's stepmother took her in hand. She was, in brief, put to her trials by the stepmother's brother, the woman encouraging and witnessing all. Charlie, too, saw some of what occurred and felt a shame for it. Carrie's father never knew, and of course she could not bring herself to tell him of what passed. The stepmother, being then of my age, Carrie vowed revenge, but not being able to exert it on her tormentor who, in any case, had Carrie's father in her spell, she left the parental abode with Charlie, pretended to a servant's role with him and sought out lonely ladies such as I, just to revenge herself.
    “You felt this to be true?” I asked.
    “My dear, it was not a matter of belief but certainty, for her confession was repeated several times in the hours that passed.”
    “It was she who should have consoled you more. I would have sent for the village constable,” said Adelaide with set teeth, though I confess I did not quite believe her.
    “She cast herself upon my mercy, dear. What could I do? I would have had to appear before the magistrates. The whole story would have had to have been told. How could I bring myself to face up to such things?”
    “Indeed. They might have said then that you lied, and caused confusion thus,” I gallantly averred, but even so uneasiness had taken hold of me. I asked her what happened to the pair.
    “Carrie assured me in most broken fashion that such would never re-occur, for I had fear for other ladies in the shire. I pondered this. She had reverted to subservience, although her true station is much as my own-in origin, that is. Charlie waited for her, she said. They would go abroad and not be heard of again. An allowance from her father saw to her main needs. I would not have it so. Perhaps in the last event I feared she would fall into her old ways. I told her, upon threats of advising the constabulary, that she must remain with me under my care and that Charlie must be gone.”
    “You do not mean that she is with you still?” asked Caroline.
    “What else was I to do? I could let the pair upon the world again, or guard them from their sins. I chose the former course. She is now as a companion to me. I permitted her a last farewell with Charlie and then saw myself to his departure from the inn where he had waited for her. His own penitence was complete. Indeed, he fell at my feet and begged forgiveness-even kissed my boots.”
    “Strange indeed,” said I. Therewith, to the surprise of Caroline, I excused myself. She hastened after me and closed the door.
    “What are you at?” she asked. I believe there was something in both our minds then. I could not speak of it, and nor could she.
    “I shall be gone but an hour,” I replied. In truth, I departed with a certain queasiness, but something ticked in me as does a clock when known events are to occur. I took myself, in short, and without delay to Miriam's.
    Upon arriving, I scanned first the blank windows. How often does a house appear empty and silent, and yet is habitated! Upon my knocking a quietness ensued, and then the door was opened by a maid of beanpole shape.
    I introduced myself. Her Mistress, I said, was a guest at my abode and had asked me to fetch something for her from her room. Being then regarded doubtfully-as indeed I expected to be-I presented more material credentials in the form of a carte de visite, the which caused her to step aside and permit me to enter, uttering apologies as she did.
    “You are wise to be cautious,” said I. Every facet of the house held interest for me. The door to the drawing room lay open, the stairs yawned. It was down these selfsame steps that Miriam had been led, I thought. I envisaged her naked and did not mind the thought at all.
    “Was there something special you came to get, sir?” I was asked.
    “A trinket, that is all. It is on her dressing table, so she said.”
    I had a letch to see the bedroom where Miriam had first been fucked and began to take my way upstairs. The house was not as I envisaged it at all, but such a feeling is common and I threw it off. The main bedroom was ornate: a huge four-poster bed stood centred to the outer wall. Upon the dressing table a pair of scissors lay. The maid had hovered on the stairs below. I called her up. Within her sight I picked them up and laid them down again.
    “Those were not what you wanted, sir?”
    “Oh, Lord, no. Fearsome things, are they not?”
    “Mistress uses them sir, a lot for cutting out.”
    “But nothing else?” I laughed. Her eyes looked blank. “Carrie is not then here today,” I said as casually as one might and picked a flask of perfume up as if to say it was the thing I sought.
    “I'm Carrie, sir.”
    “Ah. Then I beg your pardon. With growing age one gets confused sometimes. Have you been here long, Carrie?”
    “In the Mistress's service, sir, for nigh on three years now.”
    “I see. And long you will remain, I trust. What a lovely bed that is,” I ventured, though I knew the truth by then.
    “Its her favourite of the house, sir, that. She said to me once that I could lie on it and try it, but I wouldn't dare, of course.”
    “You were not tempted?” I spoke lightly, seemed distracted did not gaze at her. I did not wish to scare the girl who patently was as dried-out as a husk.
    “Not my place to do that, sir, oh no.”
    “There, my dear, a sovereign for your honesty. One does not come across the like of such good girls too often.”
    I pressed it into her hand. She gazed at it in great surprise. I had a feeling that she had scarce held one before. We passed beyond. She closed the bedroom door behind us. We descended. I gazed around as though in great appreciation of the place.
    “You must have much to do here, Carrie, by yourself. Did Miss Miriam not once have a manservant also? Charlie was his name, I do believe.”
    “Charlie? I ain't never heard of him, sir, no, I ain't. Not in my years, I ain't.”
    “Tut-tut. My memory is all to pieces. I was thinking of another house.”
    “Yes, sir, I know it happens. I have done the same myself. But thank you for the money, sir. There weren't no need.”
    “Rewards should be accorded, Carrie. Well”-goodbye.”
    “Goodbye.” Back into her nothingness she went. The door closed like a barrier upon the world. The windows took on their blankness once again.


    “Miriam is resting,” Caroline advised me as soon as I entered the house.
    I have heard it said that the people of Japan communicate as much by facial expression as they do by words. If so, they are not alone in that. When two are close, such as Caroline and I, the words are but the surface things; the undertow is in the eyes. The current is felt and tested- known.
    “Well-what did you find out?” she asked me then, and grinned. Adelaide then joined us. Collusion was our friend. I described my visit. Adelaide gazed at us both and whispered, “Then she lied-I thought she did.”
    “You story-you drank in each word!” joked Caroline to her, but then took on a serious mien. “She described it far too well,” she said.
    “Precisely, dear. She wrote it in her mind, then spoke the words. No doubt she has not been fucked for twenty years. Maybe a little less,” I conceded with a grin.
    “What is to do with her-the poor, poor thing?”
    Caroline turned to my sister as she spoke. Their eyes communicated well enough, as do those of the “mysterious East.”
    “Yes, I think so-if he is willing,” Adelaide laughed, though not a further word had then been said.
    “What are you two beautiful terrors at?” I asked, as men do when they wish to give pretence of not having understood the occasional transparencies of women.
    “We shall see to her. Make yourself ready. It was the table I did not believe,” said Caroline. She caught me off balance for a moment and was pleased. “She does not have a large table in a drawing room, you oaf. When she was buggered. You remember that? I know, because I visited her once, quite briefly.”
    “Oh, yes!” Damnation, though, I had missed that point, so engrossed had I been with the vision of her bottom rearing up. My own suspicions had sparked at Carrie's final tale and the too neat ending to the thing. Then I had coursed back through her narrative and wondered at the lack of fire that Miriam had shown when she was freed. Not only that. She had come a shade too quickly to “rude words” that otherwise she would have been too modest to express.
    “She is waiting for something to happen now,” said Adelaide and moved her fingers upwards to her gown, unbuttoning her corsage as she spoke. Her nipples showed. She flicked them with her fingers. “Oh, I feel like it,” she said. Her eyes were bold. She flung her arms around me, kissed me.
    “Wait,” said Caroline, “we have to prepare her first. Give us ten minutes, darling, then come up.”
    I have known for long that there are certain strange conditions of the mind that must be appeased. All have their foibles, much as they would hide them from Society. I recall a chap-an artist of considerable merit-who one day in confiding mood leaned across a table where we sat and said in hollow, nervous tone to me that he had a letch to be pissed upon by women.
    “Am I strange?” he asked, and looked most fearful that I might say yes.
    “Good heavens, Bertie, no,” I said as much as if he had told me that he read The Morning Post and not The Times. I opined (thought not in truth at all) that I knew several men who entertained the same desire, and that nothing curious was found in it at all. The poor chap looked relieved.
    “It's the warm splashing and the way they spurt it down on you,” he said, “I love a woman splashing on my cock.”
    He said nothing about fucking, so I did not speak of that I have heard tell of some who birch their daughters and their wives and leave them writhing on their beds- not having attended to them afterwards at all. Such curiosities, I suppose, could fill a book of moderate proportions-and I myself have as many flaws as others do, if flaws they be counted as. In our games heretofore, Caroline or Adelaide, or Caroline's Mama, had bound me sometimes and made me kneel to them.
    It is a curious feeling to be tied when one is in safe hands. I have little doubt, after such experiences when I was made to sniff at drawers and such, was held in darkness underneath a drooped-down skirt, bent on my knees-I have little doubt, I say, that the very germ of submissiveness lies in us all and waits to be encouraged. There is a sense of obedience that humbles one and at the same time enthralls the very soul.
    “It is a fact,” says Caroline to me sometimes, “that young girls may be made to do all sorts of naughty things by an admixture of authority and persuasiveness. Both youths and girls entertain, however dimly, the desire to be made to yield and to do that which they would not otherwise do. In the very doing is the naughtiness. It is a subtle thing and yet it almost always works. A girl who is openly lewd would not be sported with for long. Resistance is desired by he who bares her bottom first. As for herself, she counterpoints it with such grains of submissiveness as seem appropriate and required.”
    “There are few who do not moan when the cock is first put to them,” said I.
    “That, too, is true, but in that moment reality obtains. When her bottom cheeks are first sprung apart or her thighs are opened, a sense of apprehension seizes her. Then it is that the coaxing words are needed and should come forth. You like it most, though, when I aid you, do you not?”
    Indeed I do. Many a girl there has been in the past years whose lips have bubbled under Caroline's while I came slowly down on her and put my cock up to her notch. They jerk. They always jerk. But if the bottom cheeks are clasped and lifted slightly, then the rod slips in, the knees bent up a little as they try to twist. Those who are plugged thus are invariably quiescent when they have been spermed. Some will jitter for long moments until the moisture of their cunnies allows the prick to groove right in.
    “There-that was nice. Was it not nice?” I have off-times heard Caroline laugh while she-lying naked beside the pair of us and I seeping out my last pearls in the clinging grotto-has continued pecking lightly at a girl's soft mouth. Sometimes they will whisper “Yes;” sometimes will hide a burning face in her warm shoulder while I move her bottom gently back and forth to feel her honey-pot suck still upon my dwindling prick.
    Sweet are the games we play. A girl is never rushed upon and may stay several days with us before she is brought to doff her drawers for the first time. “How pretty you look when you are coming,” Caroline or Adelaide will say afterwards, and cause the girl to blush, but even so she takes the compliment and is finally sent away cock-ready, as we say.
    “It is a form of schooling,” Caroline will say with much self-satisfaction in her voice. Her lips come together as she forms the words, and look adorable, as she well knows, yet will deny it with a very pretty laugh.
    My cogitations and my recollections are always such when a female lies in waiting on the bed. I went to my study and there doffed all but my shirt. My pego stood in readiness. Would Miriam struggle and be held? Would there be ructions-cries of real alarm?
    Entering the bedroom, I found all three naked to their stockings on the bed. My two dear ones had undressed with some despatch. Adelaide was licking at Miriam's brown nipples while Caroline laved kisses on her mouth.
    The thighs of Miriam looked delicious-plumper than I thought them. Odd it is that when women are undressed much springs forth that otherwise is unobserved. Many a female have I thought to have small breasts, because no promising prominences appeared beneath her dress, yet in the peeling of their coverings they seem to swell up like balloons that have awaited air.
    Her bush was abundant and I saw it clear since Adelaide held the woman's legs apart.
    “She is ready to be fucked,” said Caroline, I slooping up on to the bed and kneeling-cock upraised-across the legs of Miriam.
    “No, no!” moaned Miriam.
    I knew there was no time to lose and couched myself upon her, bringing up my swollen crest to rub for a moment into her warm curls. Her legs kicked mightily, were strong. Her ankles banged against my own, her wet, stark nipples poking in my shirt.
    “She will be a good fuck. Caroline, you hold her wrists-Adelaide-get off the bed and hold her,” said I. I chose my words. I do not often use that Anglo-Saxon one.
    “Oho, my God! What do you do to me!”
    Her face was uppermost to mine, mouth wet from Caroline's, eyes were open wide. Her tits were swollen from caressing hands. Her vulva twitched; the rolled lips felt my knob. She bucked her hips, almost unsaddling me. I growled at that; I knew my part to play and pinched her nose twixt thumb and finger, causing her to rush her breath into my mouth. I gave her then the first inch of my rod within and felt her squeeze upon it, then relax. I cupped her arse and drew the cheeks apart. Another inch, another-then I rammed it in and held her more securely down, feeling her juices tingle on my knob, her breath a hurricane around my lips. Her knees worked, but she ceased to kick so much.
    Thrice Miriam spurted to me while I pumped her love-some nest, her belly rolling silky under mine. I held her nose until the joust was done and I had creamed her fig most ardently. Our gaspings filled the air, then we collapsed. I did not linger on her, though-withdrew the steaming cork and let her lie in panting disarray. My knob oozed pearls around her stocking top and then I slip from off the bed. She moaned. The tendon showed upon her neck, her forehead sheened with moisture from the bout.
    “Let me go!” she whined, but Adelaide still held her legs apart.
    “She should be birched,” said Caroline, her hands still grasping Miriam's wrists.
    “Later,”. I said, “then I will bugger her. She needs a stiff prick up her arse as well.”
    “I hate you-hooo!” whined Miriam, but I was gone. At least, I was beyond the door. My balls were drained; so strongly had she sucked.
    “Now wrap her tightly up,” said Caroline. A squeal, a smack, then all was quiet. We had judged the woman rightly, so it seemed. Her pleasure was-and is-in being forced. Her own cries are as music to her ears, regretful as I am of such a cliche from my pen. Her dreams were being honoured at the least, I thought. I dressed again, descended to the lower floor, then Caroline and Adelaide came down.
    “Did you like doing it with her? I wish sometimes I were a man,” said Adelaide.
    “We judged her rightly.” Caroline said. She echoed word for word my thoughts.
    “I will tie her now. We should have done it at the first,” my sister said, and went to get a length of rope.
    “Impatience!” Caroline called after her and laughed. Then her expression changed and she came to me and sat upon my lap. “I am your true love still?” she asked. Before I could reply with words, she added, “You liked to have your prick up her-I know you did. I saw it on your face.”
    “I did,” I said. She pouted and I kissed her lips, for none are sweeter or more kissable. I knew it partly for pretence in her, yet in all women is a fear of losing their protectors to another.
    “She is younger than me. By two years, anyway,” Caroline said. Her warm bottom raised itself from off my lap. She walked to the window with her back to me.
    “Indeed, and she has a lovely arse,” I said. I watched her shoulders slump and smiled within. My Caroline, who has held so many girls while I was corking them, was at her game of “Let's pretend it's real.”
    “I suppose you think she has a nice house-but you did notice,” she said, but did not turn.
    “Grander than ours, as well you know, and with a larger acreage. I shall have to visit her frequently of course. Unless you say me nay,” I said and rose and put my arms around her from behind.
    “Oho, the love birds,” came the voice of Adelaide. “Poor me, I have all the work to do,” she laughed and swung the coil of rope she held, then was outsweeping, going to the stairs.
    “I shall birch her even harder now,” said Caroline. Her hair brushed softly back against my nose.
    “Poor Adelaide does not deserve the birch, but if you must…” I joked. At that she turned in my embrace.
    “You fool-you know well whom I meant. Is she really nice to do?”
    “She has a tightly-clenching cunny, love-but that is all she has. Her mind is vacuous, is trapped in a small room where someone birched and rode her once. She wishes to repeat it ever on. What a small menu will she offer any man.” I coiled my fingers in her hair, our bodies close. A big sigh came from her.
    “I know. I want you to kiss me all the time while you have it up her bottom. Say you will.”
    “I do not need to have it up her bottom when I might have yours, my love.”
    “You promise me?”
    “Of course I do. The thrill will be from your lips and from nowhere else.”
    “I have bound her wrists. She did not struggle,” said my sister, coming in again, then gazed on us with an enquiring look.
    “What were you talking about?” she asked.
    “He does not love me,” said Caroline.
    I dragged her down on the floor at that. “Tickle her,” I said to Adelaide. Shrieks came from Caroline, and in a moment all our limbs were coiled, their dresses up around their waists. I played with both their quims, my mouth to Caroline's. How oily were the lips of both their slits!
    “Don't come in her tonight-then you can do it to us both. That will be her greater punishment,” said Adelaide. Then Caroline pushed at me and sat up. Her pins had fallen out, her hair was down.
    “Oh, I've already told him that,” she said, put fallen hairpins in her mouth and grinned at me.


    On such occasions as young ladies are brought to us for training, Caroline will be heard to say, in a measured but cooing manner, “We will keep her for a week and I will then communicate with you.” This while the girl stands looking wonderingly around, adopts a posture of great modesty, or affects an interest in the floor and knows not what to do with her gloved hands.
    It is rather like taking in pets when owners close their houses for the season and retire to Baden-Baden or to Paris, I have often said.
    “It is nothing of the sort-though of course they are pets,” Caroline will rejoin, and so gives me a partial victory in that.
    Miriam we kept chez nous for just four days. She required attention more in the manner of a child than an amorata. A collar and lead being procured from a saddler, Adelaide would lead the lady around the house, having attired her most enticingly in a black waist corset, stockings and boots to match-this leaving her bottom bared and her tits a-wobbling freely above the fringed lace of the garment. Several times she was stabled and left alone, bound by her wrists to a hook in the dark barn. If she howled, Caroline would say briskly to my sister, “Go and use the schooling whip on her.” There would come cries across the paddock, then a silence.
    Adelaide would return looking flushed and saying, “She is well dealt with,” the net result of such being that either she or Caroline received my salutation, which delighted them.
    “You may work her bottom just before she goes to bed, and that is all,” said Caroline of Miriam. I do not know to this day what possessed her to have a latent jealousy. Many a younger girl had been more entrancing. No doubt it was because Miriam lived alone and might therefore be thought to entice me to her residence.
    I had no such desires, however. It is an oddity that a wholly submissive woman will eventually entrap one by virtue (if such a term may be used) of her constant needs to have the same attention all the time. I would find it infinitely boring to be constantly up and down with collars, leads and ropes. There was no future to be had in it. Upon bidding Miriam farewell, and she leaning from the window of her carriage, she asked tearfully whether I would not visit her again.
    Caroline, of course, considered it an affront. “We will send Charlie,” she said-just as if such a person really existed-and then motioned to the driver to be off.
    “That was a little cruel. We are perhaps her only salvation,” I said, which caused an air of coldness to come between us for an hour or so. It is an understood thing, in our particular conventions, that I do not attend alone upon females who have visited us. Caroline relented, however-though grudgingly at first-and hit upon a solution. There being a young gardener who had worked on and off about the place, she had him come to us and closeted herself alone with him.
    He emerged looking rather awed, and after a longer interval than I thought was needful. He had agreed to present himself to Miriam, apparently, and was to call himself Charlie.
    “I gave him three sovereigns for his future trouble, though no doubt Miriam will reimburse him, too,” said Caroline. I regarded her that old thrill of jealousy that I had previously known and have never quite lost even now.
    “Presumably you took pains to discover whether he is fit for his future duties,” I said stiffly.
    “By proxy, as it were,” she replied and laughed at my discomfiture, adding quickly, “Or at least, Adelaide did so and I had a look. She brought his standard up, but did no more than that. Really, my love, considering the license that I give you…”
    “Because you like watching,” I said tightly.
    “Yes, I do. And participating,” was her cool reply, “But since your moral attitudes have changed of a sudden then we will do no more entertaining.”
    At that, she turned and went upstairs and closeted herself in her room. My sister had meanwhile gone out to guide the new “Charlie” to his destination. An awful silence followed. Women can be devilishly clever at this sort of game and have more patience for it than men do. Half an hour of continuing silence passed. I smoked a cigar, drank whisky, fretted. She would not open the bedroom door until I ascended. I knew that. Was she smiling up there, or were her lips still tightly pursed, and worse, would she tell Adelaide of my “childishness,” as she is wont to call it?
    I gathered myself together. I suppose I knew the role I had to play and ventured slowly up, making each footfall sound as though I regretted it yet found it necessary. Entering the bedroom, I found her lying over the side of the bed in an indolent posture, her legs dangling and her gown a little ruffled up to show her knees.
    “I suppose you want me to birch you,” said I, at which she covered her eyes by casting her forearm across them.
    “Because I had a good look at his cock,” she said, and said it in a doleful tone.
    “Caroline, turn over. Present yourself.”
    She obeyed, though with every sign of reluctance and lay upon her belly with her bottom orbed in readiness while I took the birch down from the top of a wardrobe where if often lies in readiness. I turned and bared her bottom, for she wore no drawers. The perfect majesty of her cleft globe never ceases to thrill me. The skin is faintly gingery where her plump, firm cheeks inroll.
    I swished her lightly and she squealed. I had no intent to hurt her, and she knew it well.
    “Did you handle it, Caroline?” I asked sternly.
    “Just a little to feel how stiff it was. I felt his balls as well, oooh-ah!”
    The birch had swept across her bottom once again. Her predilection to be tingled up in this respect has never left her. The inheritance of girlish training always holds.
    “You would have let him mount you, had I not been here.”
    “Perhaps, yooo-aaar!”
    It was a slightly harder cut.
    “Tell me you wanted him to fuck you, Caroline.”
    “I didn't, no! theeee-ooooh! All right-I did!”
    “You wicked, wicked girl!” I knew it not to be true, and so did she, but in a moment thus it does not matter. All females have a Miriam inside them, though it does not subjugate them, make them act by rote as was the case with the lady who was the unspoken subject of this erotic interlude. I swished her once again, her bottom churned enticingly, the pink streaks showing clear across the lustrous bulb. I passed the birch from one hand to the other, reached down and felt the throbbing, silky warmth.
    “Wh… wh… what are you doing? oooh! You shouldn't put your finger there!”
    “Be quiet, my dear. Your growing amorousness is evident to me. It is time that you were spermed. Be still, I say, and keep your bottom up! Come, girl-now move your legs apart!”
    “OH-WOH! It's naughty! No! You mustn't no!”
    SMACK! SMACK! I made her blatant cheeks to quiver then, contracting to the splatting of my palm. She mewed, she whinnied, as I felt her sticky quim, the ridging of its lips in her excitement so desirable.
    “OOOH-HOOO! I'm… m… mustn't let you-and besides, Mama may come!”
    “Be quiet!” I growled. My stiffened prick was out, the knob presented to her queasy slit. I felt the curls, the plumpness, oiliness. She bucked and twisted, but I held her hips and nubbed my knob within her honeypot. Her head snapped up; she beat upon the bed.
    “Don't, don't! Oh, it's too big! nooo-hooo!”
    I clamped my palm across her mouth. Such roughness is requisite now and then, and Caroline-in such a mood-finds it exciting, as I know. One slewing motion of my cock and it was buried to the hilt. Her bottom rolled its sleek, hemispheres against my belly, then was still. She gurgled and I loosed my fingers just a little. Then I got my loins to work. She snuffled, hissed her breath out through her nose.
    “Come on now, Caroline-come on!”
    “WOH-WOH!” she whimpered, but her stockinged thighs then strained against my own, her legs held straight, her ankles splayed. I drew her back. Her hands strained at the coverlet, then rested on the bed's rolled edge. The nutcracker action of her cunt worked rhythmically round my prick. “Oh-ho, Papa!” she moaned, but then was quiet and let me take possession of her dell until I creamed her thoroughly with long, thick spouts of come, and we fell forward with my pulsing prick embedded still.
    “Was it nice?” I asked as she then bore my weight.
    “Yeth,” she lisped, in concert with her mood.
    “Did you really?” I asked. I referred to the young gardener, as well she knew. The question was unnecessary: as obsessive as dear Miriam is!
    “Of course, I didn't-no. Oh, not with him!” she teased.
    What foolish games we humans play!


    I am told that I write too much about myself, and this by Caroline who watches over my manuscript like a mother at a cot.
    “If I write too much about you, my dear, people will say that you are lewd,” I joked.
    “Let them say it to my face,” she replied.
    “I only jested,” I called out, but she was gone. Her talent for showing disfavour that I know not to be real is still quite strong. Women do have a way of saying things that is totally unfair, and which is known to be, and yet makes one examine one's own soul. One comes up from all their accusations with a mite of truth so small as to be barely visible-yet it instills a sense of guilt in one.
    Very well-I succumb. I have been pretending to myself, perhaps, that I shall later write another volume of Caroline and Adelaide, but the chore would overcome me. I shall find no publisher, in any case, and would not wish to seek one.
    “What if you do not? It keeps you quiet,” is said. Affectionately, I think. At least I hope that to be true. I am blessed with a large member and a willing heart and have no talents other that I know of, or would boast to have.
    The period of this particular and rather bizarre little tale was just prior to the memorable occasion-that which changed my very life-when I first entered their beds. Desiring to emulate her Mama in a piece of mischief, Caroline had contrived a plan which rested on an encounter with a lonely, seeking male-the which, for a girl as attractive as was she was by no means difficult. She accomplished this in a coffee house in the nearby market town where sipping her beverage, she was the subject of a number of admiring male eyes.
    The owner of a pair of such amused her by venturing out and then immediately afterwards returning in as if he had just arrived. Begging her pardon, he asked if he might take a seat at her table and-this permission being granted-was soon engaging Caroline in conversation.
    She affected shyness at first, but soon allowed herself to be seemingly carried away and tittered at his occasional, feeble jokes.
    Thinking himself no doubt a lucky dog, the fellow fell to boasting of his adventures, the greater number of which Caroline discerned to be as transparent as he, but gave great appearance of believing. Having thus warmed himself up to her acquaintance, as he thought, he fell to more suggestive talk. Caroline, being an excellent actress, appeared to succumb to this until the conversation grew even more intimate as to their various follies. Giving the most skillful appearance of appearing secretly excited (the which I have seen her do on later occasions in my presence when we have been nurturing young ladies), and having accepted a brandy which appeared to add to her intrigued flutterings, Caroline responded to her would-be seducer by teasing out a tale of her own.
    “I should not tell you this-indeed you will think me utterly immodest-but I too have attended private parties at which there was a certain naughtiness,” she said to his delight.
    Having him thus hooked, she was able to convey more hesitations as to the nature of her imminent confession, this driving him quite frantic to hear all.
    “Well, then, I will tell you, provided you promise to tell no one else,” said Caroline, and went on to engage herself in a description of a quite imaginary occasion at which a form of Postman's Knock was played. Not in the usual way, as she said, wherein a gentleman or lady is called out by the “Postman” to be kissed in the hall, and everyone thinking it the most jolly of fun, but a libertine variation which provided for the Postman's “Knock” to become something quite other.
    'That is to say,” she went on-casting glances around lest anyone else might hear-“the Postman's real offering, as soon as a lady was called, was in the nature of a word that rhymes with 'Knock.' But oh, how rude you will think me, sir!”
    “I say, go on, go on!” the fellow interjected with some agitation.
    “I should not tell you-really I should not-but, oh, if you insist! Instead of placing himself simply in the hall, as is the custom with the ordinary game, the Postman was required to place himself outside the front door where, of course, there is a letterbox. The ladies meanwhile were closeted in a separate room so that they knew not who the Postman was from moment to moment. When a man was called, however-and this being done as usual by drawing them from a hat-she entered the hall and advanced towards the front door. And there, presenting himself in the most unusual way, was the hidden Postman presenting himself through the letterbox. The lady then had the choice of accepting his 'delivery' or not. If she liked what she saw, she would feel the offered instrument of his desire and then open the door to him.”
    Naturally enough, the man's eyes glowed at the receipt of this intelligence. “I say! Do you mean he was actually putting his-er… I mean to say, through the letterbox?” he asked in breathless tones.
    At that, Caroline appeared to become aware of the time or, if not, of her seeming indiscretion, for she rose and excused herself.
    “Really, I have said too much. The brandy, I believe. I know not what you will think of me. I am not a loose girl, you know,” she averred, and made to bid him adieu.
    “Pray let me escort you home,” was then said by he whom she had aroused. Demurring at this at first (though in pretence), Caroline finally acceded to his wish and allowed him to call a cab whereat, once ensconced, he plied her with more questions such as gave Caroline to even more clearly understand that he knew little enough of women whom he had earlier so boasted of.
    “How naughty of me to have told you at all. I know not what came over me. Well, yes then, if you will-my sister too was there.”
    “I say, did you both receive a package?” chuckled he and laid his hand upon her thigh.
    “Really, sir, what a question to ask! I am sure you would have been too modest to play Postman.”
    “I? Good heavens, no! Why, I recall one day in India…” he began and then launched into an even more unlikely tale than Caroline's, she seeing through it, but pretending fascinated interest. By then, however, they arrived at Adelaide's abode and he accompanied her to the front door, having by all sorts of lecherous hints given her to understand that he was a ladies' man of the highest repute.
    “Is your dear sister in?” he asked as they approached the frontage.
    “Why? Would you be as bold with her, sir, as you have with me? In such case you would have to present yourself to her as I've described. She liked the naughty game more than did I,” said Caroline whose warm thigh, yielding to his touch in the conveyance, had caused him an erection which she plainly saw a-prodding in his trousers.
    “Oh, I say!” he uttered, quite taken aback by this bold proposal and gazing in some surmise at the brass letterbox.
    “Have you not the heart for it? Certainly you appear to have the package,” Caroline averred and passed her hand across his trousers as she spoke.
    “My goodness!” he exclaimed, being confronted by reality rather than such dreams as boastful men are wont to be possessed of. Enlivened the more by Caroline's daring touch, he passed his arm about her waist and prepared to kiss her in the porch.
    “Oh no, that is not the game at all. You have not yet presented your credentials, sir. I will knock in a special way and Adelaide will answer. She may not do so, though, if she does not see a suitable offering!”
    “Well, I… goodness me… I say, what fun!”
    'There are two of us, remember-though from all that you have told me, sir, you can satisfy us both.”
    “By jove, I can-I'll cream both of your buns,” he boasted, but even so showed hesitation still to reveal his member in that way. Brooking none of that, however, Caroline reached across him and gave a triple knock.
    “Quickly now-get it out and push it through the letterbox,” she ordained.
    Blushing deeply, for all his talk, the fellow did so, inserting his rigid member with some effort through the aperture and standing most awkwardly, of course, while Caroline-in appearing to assist him-pressed at his buttocks from behind.
    Adelaide meanwhile had not only heard the signal but had peeped through a side bow-window prior to that and realised Caroline's intent, for they had often spoken of such a prank. Of this the hopeful fellow knew nothing. The next thing that he knew was that his prick-poking through the letterbox and into the hall-was seized by my sister who thereupon unlatched the door, but still kept hold of it. Thus he was forced to follow the movement of the door while Adelaide stood half behind it and Caroline then followed swiftly in to frantic gurgles of astonishment from their male captive.
    “Hold him, dearest.”
    “Yes, I am. Fetch a rope quickly-bind his arms,” said Adelaide to wild yells form the gentleman who was then secured in quite a different way, his arms clamped to his sides while then his penis was released and no doubt slightly painfully was drawn back from the letterbox and the door closed.
    I have said before (or trust I have) that one gentleman does not boast of conquests to another, and certainly not to a lady unless they are of the most intimate acquaintanceship. Even so, it will then not be boastful, but a civilised description of events which may well stir the two to amourous combat even while they speak of it.
    I have heard tell of men who frequently prostrate themselves before ladies and beg to be allowed to kiss their boots or even lick their toes. I have played such games myself, as well you know by now, but never with obsessiveness. If I am to be frank, I see no difference in such unmanly curs as a girl who bends before the birch, though the only equation to be drawn from this is that the one is submissive all his life while the girl Is merely schooled to pleasure and deserves the highest praise on ceding to the probing cock.
    I will not say that this gentleman was such of whom I speak. He was merely to have an entirely new experience, albeit one that changed his way of life, I do believe, for he courted both thereafter by letter and begged them to do the same again. This indeed was the way that Caroline first described the adventure to me-which is to say in the convoluted fashion of women who keep one an eternity before the reaching of the point.
    “What did you do-thereafter?” I first interrupted her.
    “I am trying to tell you,” quoth she. “Having secured him well, and amid much blustering and yelling on his part, he was drawn into the drawing room and there we got his trousers down and tucked his shirt up. I will not relate his imprecations. Some were really those of a foul man and not a gentleman. Adelaide twisted his prick and told him to keep him quiet. I fetched a tin bowl-for I had seen Mama do such in games at home. I held his balls and frigged him into it. You should have seen his face! My dear!”
    She could not contain her laughter at the episode. I waited patiently, then she went on, “Having done so, and milked him like a cow, he became very tremulous. I should have said that we forced him down upon his knees before he spilled his sperm. I left the bowl in front of him. A token of his wickedness, I said. He almost cried, and begged forgiveness in his weakened state.”
    “Then did you throw him out?”
    “No, no, the game was not then over, dear. I reminded him of his boast that he could butter both our buns. He, kneeling, tried to rise, but I prevented him, hands hard down on his shoulders while your darling sister raised her skirt and, bending over, thrust her naked bottom to his face. I pressed his head and forced his nose between her nether cheeks. It was no trial to hold him thus.
    “There is one bun you have not buttered yet,” I said. He tried to shake his face away; we would not let him do, and kept him at it on and on until his cock twitched, quite despite himself. Continuing to press his nose deep to her bottomhole, I frotted at his pego once again.
    “I can't, I can't!” he groaned into her splurging cheeks.
    “You can-you must-you have to fill the bowl,” I said. Then Adelaide spun round and took his ears and rammed his mouth up underneath her quim.”
    “Oho, you wicked girls!” I burst to Caroline.
    “Who dares to speak of such? I made you do the same with Mama, and you know I did.”
    “That was a game,” said I and blushed.
    “Well, so was this, my dear, save he was much more forced to it than you. What a fuss you males make when we handle you! And anyway, 'twas he who accosted me,” said Caroline with a pert shake of her head. “Lick me, you dog!” were Adelaide's next words. A transformation seemed to come upon him then. Her legs were spread. He licked her for a long time, like a hound, and then he came again; the bowl received his offering. At that she stepped back, kicked him, and he groaned and would have slumped face forward, but I held him up. The game had palled a little, I confess, by then. His member was no use to either of us, and indeed we did not want it. Being told sharply to get up, he rose. We led him back into the hall and then untied his bonds. His bonds came loose. He stared at us with haggard look.
    “'You will go,' I told him sharply. Adelaide then turned the doorknob and began to open it.
    “'May I not see you again?' he asked to our astonishment and gazed from one to t'other as in a dream.
    “'No, you may not,' I said. I was truly all a-wonder at his newfound attitude and feared he might attack us, as did Adelaide. She opened the door wider and stepped back.
    “'I do not mind what you did to me,' he mumbled, 'I am deserving of it-I am a cur. I am not fit to lick your boots. No one has handled me like that before.
    “'Perhaps they should have,' I said. The moment was quite electric dear. I knew not how to handle it. It was no game. His eyes had a deep look of humbleness. I quivered inwardly, but outwardly was calm.”
    “Yes, I am sure you were,” I said. The story had a curious ring, yet I believed each word of it. After all that we had seen and done, she has no need to lean upon inventions of this sort. “And then?” I asked.
    “He threw himself upon his knees again, head bowed, and kissed our boots, then shuffled backwards like a stricken animal and made his way at full pace down the drive. At the gate he turned and cried out something in beseeching tone that neither of us could dissemble. Adelaide closed the door. All day we could talk of nothing else. Then came his letters, begging to be treated so again. Uh! How could one deal with such a man?”
    “You had uncovered something in his soul,” said I. There are many oddities in life like this. I have heard of men who have stolen women's drawers fresh off the washing line, but whether to sniff or what to do with them I do not know. Such men lurk on the edges of the world. I do not like their kind. They have unhealthiness.
    Am I too subtle for you now, after such various confessions as I have made? I trust that I am not. I had indulged in such, but in quite different wise. Lord Somner's words as a to male attitudes were right. There were times when he and I were made to kneel-heads humbly tucked beneath the female's skirts, or made to seem that it was humble, I should say. It was a form of play, though, and no more. True, when bidden to, after thigh-and-knicker treatment, as it was sometimes called, and having sniffed between their legs but not allowed always to show our pricks, we would take our shuffling steps upstairs and heard their lilting laughter follow us.
    Not long would pass, however, before we descended. I speak in the plural, though it always happened separately to us, and to several of Caroline's uncles, too. Upon reappearing in the midst again of lovely limbs and ardent eyes, the balance was by silent consent restored and all would act as if nothing curious had passed. Lord Somner-then more bluff and bold than I-would holler, “Come-who is for birching now? Where are the naughty girls?'
    One or the other would then be taken up. The usual squeals would follow, then the moans, and then a silence as from pleasure spent.
    The pendulum had swung full back again.


    It may seem from my narrative that all our acquaintances have been of extremely amourous bent. The world is not made such, of course. Would that it was!
    A case in point is that of Jane Maudesley and her sister, Ethel-the former being twenty-two and her sister two years her junior. They were, and are, utterly charming girls, quiet and modest when we knew them first and not given to such larks as I have mainly been describing.
    It is but a month ago since Jane paid a visit to Caroline. Making my presence known-for I find the girl exceedingly attractive-I soon perceived that she desired to speak with my wife alone, and so I left them. A full hour later I was called to bid her farewell, found her pale and her face a little tear-streaked and asked with gentleness what was the cause.
    “I will tell you later, dear,” interposed Caroline hastily. We escorted Jane to her carriage. I kissed her on the cheek and found it velvety. Her waist enticed my arm for a brief moment, then with a sad smile she was gone.
    “What is to do?” I asked.
    “We must have Adelaide in on this,” replied Caroline, as though to say that my intellect could not cope with the matter on its own.
    “You may tell me meanwhile,” I said, taking umbrage a little.
    “No-for then I shall have to say it all again.”
    I refrained from observing that she would do so in any case. Women are frightfully repetitive when they have their hooks in something, and I had no doubt that this would be the case, and was right. A further half hour passed before my sister returned from riding with some friends, and then Caroline called for tea: a prerequisite for the female species when anything of a serious nature is to be discussed.
    I will tell what transpired in my own words. At least it will be briefer. The father of the girls, Thomas, was a widower who had become involved of late with one Esmeralda Tompkins-Smith who was of similar expunged marital status.
    From Jane's account it would have seemed that Esmeralda was an opportunist in several main respects. Having the usual fondness for keeping up appearances, she had begun to find that she could not afford to do so in the manner to which she had been accustomed when her husband was alive and hence had cast around for another suitor.
    Jane thought her vulgar, as did Ethel, too. I took some suspicion of this point of view at first, for it does not take a fine intellect to perceive that if Mrs. Tompkins-Smith succeeded in a permanent manner to the bed of Thomas Maudesley then she would have first call upon his property in the unhappy event of his demise. Trailing, too, in her shadow-from the point of view of Jane and her sister-were Esmeralda's son, Nicholas, and her daughter, Mabel.
    “We do not want them to live with us, in any event,” Jane had said unhappily to Caroline.
    Many women other than my dear wife would have declared immediately-not wishing to get involved but eager nevertheless for all the tidbits-that it was not a matter in which they could interfere, but Caroline had merely listened (putting all the questions that she could) and had finally told Jane that it was a matter of great seriousness that she would certainly consider.
    In the first instance, said Caroline when all had been told to Adelaide and myself, we would make the lady's acquaintance. Thomas being already known to us-though not in any sense intimately, for he was a man of some propriety-this was not too difficult to arrange. Having shown no outward enmity towards that lady in question Jane and Ethel contrived to have their father give a small tea party to which we were invited.
    Upon meeting Esmeralda, I found her bright of eyes, forthcoming in manner, and with that slightly overwheening attitude to one that brings a cautiousness into her soul. She is, I suppose, in her early forties, of middling height and possessing an abundance of curves which, as Caroline observed rather cattily, must owe a great deal to a very tight corset. Her lips are full (Esmeralda's, that is to say), and the same adjective can be supplied with freedom to her breasts and bottom. A juicy piece, the vulgar would say, and no doubt very cuddlesome in bed.
    Her daughter, Mabel, is no less so, and would be categorised in any free-speaking entourage as a jolly good ride-a firm and bouncy little one. Little, I say, only because Nature has not endowed her with much height. The top of her head came up but to my chest. There is a certain winsomeness in that. One looks down at her melons, firm and protuberant as they are, and realises that one has to raise one's hands but a little to form, as it were, two plates for them to rest upon…
    The thought of such… But no, I must proceed…
    The son was a nonentity, I thought, is nineteen and two years his sister's senior. I did not envisage him as any other than a small-part actor to the play which was to be performed eventually, but that was not the case. Several times during the course of the tete-a-tete that Jane and Ethel had arranged, Esmeralda remarked to me what a splendid house they had, which I thought a little out of place in view of her intentions.
    “I would change the curtains, and much of the furniture,” she observed in the hearing of Jane who flushed and moved away into the breakfast room. Making some excuse, I followed her and closed the door. She was on the point of weeping once again and declared to me fiercely, “Oh, I loathe that woman!”
    “As well you might,” said I, for which she gave me a look of great gratitude so that, taking advantage of her state, I passed my arms around her in an avuncular fashion and told her with all the sincerity I could muster that we were foremost for her cause.
    “But what can you do? Papa is stuck on her, I do believe,” she answered, responding shyly to my loose embrace by placing her hands above my elbows, and so we stood.
    “We are discussing the matter now, Jane; a solution will be found,” I said gravely. I caressed her slim waist gently, found the outcurving of her hips and so held her lightly.
    “Will there be? I cannot conceive of it,” she answered, whereat I passed my left hand round the back of her head and, as if to comfort more, brought her face to nestle in my shoulder. A small move this, it may be thought, but I have frequently found that in dealing with a timorous maiden, and one above all who is softened by latent tears, that it is best to shadow their eyes and thus draw them into a comforting dimness of vision. Thereupon I moved my free hand down and beneath her back to cup her bottom, but did so with great stealth as if I wished to help her keep her balance.
    Her fingers trembled to my arms. Her gown being loose, I was able to gather up its folds until my fingers found the bulb of her bottom through the cloth. I felt her drawers beneath and, with a touch that has become exceedingly sensitive to such sly explorations through the years, tasted the deepest undercurve of her tight derriere while all the while my words of comfort droned on in her ear.
    A petulant jerk she gave but that was all. In such a moment the decision must be made as whether to continue the hold or to end it quickly with a slight caress. I decided on the former for a moment and with some deliberation pressed both gown and drawers into her groove and fingered her with purpose there, finding the rimming of her bottomhole.
    “You must learn to ease your mind and body both- you will feel better for it, Jane,” I said.
    “I don't want to,” some girls are prone to say, but she did not, most happily.
    “I suppose, yes,” she answered in a quavering tone. It was enough. I lewdly felt her nice, tight groove once more and then I let her go, not with a suddenness but as if with infinite regret, which I am bound to say was positively the case. The gourds of her tits were hard and firm, her belly flat, and thighs most promising. I heard her swallow and let her turn away. The material of her gown being caught between her bottom cheeks where I had pressed it, she gave it a self-conscious tug and blushed. “This is the price I have to pay,” I heard her think but felt a certain ruthlessness at it.
    At that, Caroline peeped in. She has a positive talent for appearing at moments that are apt.
    “We must go, my dear,” she said to me, and then- observing Jane's flushed visage-asked her, “Is all well?”
    “Oh, yes-but really I cannot think of anything you could do,” said she.
    “Nonsense, my pet. A touch of boldness is requisite here, and with a mite of ingenuity we shall free you from her wiles, you must be active, though. That, too, will be required and in ways that may blur your natural modesty a little ”
    “Oh!” exclaimed Jane and brushed her eyes away. The impress of my fingers would be felt still in between her darling cheeks.
    “It is requisite, Jane,” said Caroline tenderly, “But we will discuss it more when we have plotted out our plot.”
    “Yes, yes, I see.”
    “Goodbye, my dear.” I embraced her once again, but this time only held her hips, yet let her experience the possessive firmness of my hands, this Caroline observing with approval, for she kissed her, too.
    “Did you feel her?” she asked immediately we left the house. It was not the question of a jealous wife, but one of plain enquiry.
    “Yes. Her bottom has a noble feel to it. She did not wilt too much. I felt her drawers.”
    “Good. That is a beginning, at the least. It may not be necessary for her to participate too closely, but we shall have to see. Adelaide-have you thought of anything?” she asked my sister in the carriage.
    “Dearest, I have the most wonderful idea in the world!” my sister answered with no modesty at all, then looked at me across the seats and asked, “Do you know anything about photography at all?”
    “A little, yes, but…”
    “Oh, Adelaide, get on with it!” said Caroline impatiently.
    “No-for I want to think about it just a little more. I rather fancy her, you know.”
    “Who?” we both asked as one.
    “Why, Jane, of course. I think she will be malleable.”
    “Really, my pet, if you are thinking of the same old game-of first seducing her and then putting her to bed with Thomas… really!” Caroline exclaimed.
    “Nothing so crude. Wait until we are settled and then we will discuss my plan. It is a little elaborate, but I know it will come off,” said Adelaide with great self-satisfaction, and maddeningly would not utter up another word upon the subject until-and I hate to say it, but it's true-we were indoors and more China tea was served.


    I was to purchase a camera and a stand, some dry plates, and such chemicals as were needed. That was the upshot of it all.
    “A new direction! We shall shortly have an album of delightfully naughty likenesses,” said Caroline after my sister had unfolded her plan. Caroline would not be too much bettered, though, and so produced a sequel to it which she insisted on describing as “something beautifully concomitant.”
    I must agree, though, that it was and prided myself for the thousandth time at having two such angels by my side. Besides, some photographic practise was necessary and- having procured the requisite equipment-and, finding it a devil of a job to keep my lovely models still, I took some rather fetching nude studies of both until they were highly delighted with my efforts, though much bored with my newfound talk of rapid rectilinear lenses and such.
    Only when the groundwork thus had been done did we draw both Jane and Ethel into the secret of our plot. At first, it caused them to screw up their eyes (and Ethel even to hide her face), but if it was to be done then fully and properly must it be done, as Adelaide opined.
    However, it will not be known to any who come across my words of what I speak, and so I will come to the heart of the matter. Alas that I was not there at every moment and so must have recourse to a third-hand account from time to time.
    The essence of the affair lay in the photographs, for seductions of the kind that we had planned are not unusual, though the circumstances were. Jane and Ethel were first to butter-up Esmeralda and to pay her several visits, which they did, and thus became more friendly with the daughter, too, this quite enchanting their Papa who knew nothing of the nets that lay ahead.
    Upon their third visit they took wine which Caroline beforehand had prepared. It contained a dose of laudanum-and a little extra. I will say no more than that since more worthy females should not in this wise be subjected to the whims of others when they are comatose. That is not our way at all, by jove. And I must say that, interlaced with this (though not the wine, but the idea) was Caroline's own little addendum to the naughtiness.
    After much seemingly bright chatter at the house of Esmeralda, Jane asked whether Mabel might like to spend the night with them, this being assented to with readiness since both she and her Mama sought every avenue to inveigle themselves into the Maudesley household. As an afterthought, then-and just prior to leaving-Jane produced the wine and some little cakes as well, these being received with an apparent rapture that they scarcely merited, and did not in fact merit at all if Esmeralda and her son had known what they contained: to wit a powdered aphrodisiac.
    Several hypocritical kisses then being exchanged, the three girls departed, Jane being careful not to actually lock the door while Mabel's attention was otherwise caught.
    How long we were then to wait was the trick of it, I do confess. It was the one weakness in the plan.
    “A quarter of an hour,” said Adelaide.-“No, half an hour,” said Caroline. I settled for three-quarters, and was right. Jane, having made such excuses to Mabel as were needful ventured out from her own house again and met us on the road, our carriage ready.
    “Do you think it will work?” she asked.
    “If they are comatose, my pet, it will. I am sure they will have tasted everything by now,” said Adelaide who had a right to speak on it since this part of it was her idea.
    I admit to feeling great nervousness when we arrived and had the carriage halt beyond the gate while we approached on foot, and I carrying the heavy camera and the stand.
    Adelaide and Caroline first ventured in the house and then returned and beckoned us. Ah, what relief!
    “I told you it would work,” said Adelaide.
    Esmeralda had slumped sideways on the purple couch. Her breasts were bared, and her gown drawn up to show her garters and her plump, white thighs. Nicholas's trousers gaped, but his cock was slack. The knob peeped out.
    “Excellent! Well, at least they had made a start!” said Caroline.
    Jane stared at the peeping member, blushed, and said, “It must be very strong-that wine.” We had not let her quite into the secrets of our formulae.
    “It is, yes. Help to get his boots and trousers off. We will attend to Esmeralda,” Adelaide instructed.
    Oh dear, such demure hesitations came from Jane. “They might wake up,” she said. I nudged her on and set to untying Nicholas's boots and pulled them off.
    “Not yet they won't. Undo his trousers-pull them down,” said I while Caroline and Adelaide were stripping the all-yielding Esmeralda of her drawers and opening her gown down to the waist, revealing to our eyes her dark-furred motte, the brazen nipples on the mounds of creamy flesh that swelled out from her loosened corsage.
    “She is still moist. In their abandonment he must have fingered her,” said Caroline who had noted as I had done, from crumbs upon a plate, that the cakes were gone.
    “How wicked! I cannot imagine such a thing. I mean, between…”
    “Shush, Jane, your imagination needs some further stirring now if we are to venture all,” replied Adelaide. Between us, we brought Nicholas to the far end of the couch and then put his mother's bared legs up along the seat. Such an eye for detail then had Caroline that she arranged his trousers on top of Esmeralda's drawers upon the floor.
    “She will believe she took her drawers off first, you see. Women notice these things,” Caroline said while Jane was all a-flutter still and knew not where to look.
    Even as we spoke, the comatose Nicholas slumped slowly sideways until his head rested on his mother's naked thighs.
    “Why, he has posed himself!” laughed Adelaide, I fumbling with my photographic apparatus then and pointing the lens down on the seemingly guilty pair before I focussed under the black cloth-the image upside down, of course, and thus even more bizarre in this fell circumstance.
    In that quiet drawing room we all stood still, our voices hushed. The women then moved back beyond the camera's range. I pressed the bulb. I took my photograph.
    “Did you get the drawers and trousers in?” asked Caroline. I had indeed, they made the set-piece perfect, as I thought, just in the corner of the plate, but clearly to be seen. I moved the apparatus and took another, just for safety's sake, turning the dry plates around within their frame.
    “Now for the last touch, darling, as we said. She must find dried sperm upon her stocking tops,” said Adelaide, then a squeak from Jane who would have moved further back but was then brought forward like an uncertain schoolgirl.
    “I cannot; I do not understand,” she quavered.
    “It is very simple, dear. You have your major part to play. Well, for today at least. Get out your cock, my love, and put it in her hand. There… Oh Jane, you silly, do not snatch away! Enclose it in your fingers while he leans over Esmeralda's knees. His sperm will shoot out in due course and splatter on her thighs, just as we want it to.”
    “Oh, but…!” from Jane whose hand I took and brought it to my rigid tool, I bending with one knee upon the couch. Her fingers touched uncertainly, then clasped a little, but too loose.
    “Have you never frigged a man before?” I asked. Her mouth was parted. Soft and lustrous were her lips. I took the fruit, since it was offered carelessly, and meshed my mouth to hers. In the same moment, Adelaide swept up the young woman's skirt from behind and drew her drawers down quickly to her knees. Jane spluttered, gasped against my lips, her bottom and her quim both yielding then to subtle fingertips.
    “Hasten!” said Caroline, “Jane-make him come.”
    “Blub-blub!” came choking sounds from Jane. I felt her knees sag, though I could not see. My sister was working at her skilfully. Jane's fingers then began to glide back-forth along my rigid penis while my tongue found hers.
    “Make me come!” I gritted, though it sounded rather as a boyish whine. Adelaide's fingers made her belly jerk spasmodically. Jane's breath was warm within my mouth. Her tongue responded and her hand worked faster then. “I shall fuck you yet, Jane.” Oh, the helpless gasp of man! She whined, she wriggled, making little liquid sounds. Her hips churned.
    “She is coming on,” said Adelaide.
    “Oh darling, be careful where you spout!” a cry from Caroline.
    “I want to fuck you, Jane.”
    “I know,” she breathed. Aha, a double victory was in sight! I tore my lips from hers with a giant effort and looked down. My cock was well-posed for the target down below. Full fuzz of hairs I saw and open thighs, dark stocking tops and garters tight. I would as soon have loosed my sperm in Esmeralda's juicy cavern as in Jane's, but the moment was nigh upon me then. My knees buckled and my jets shot out, blobbed down and made their sticky pools inside the thighs of Esmeralda and around her garters' rims.
    “Poor Jane-she should have had it bubbling in her cunny,” Adelaide said. I turned. I could not help myself, thrusting my spilling cock beneath Jane's nest. The knob nubbed underneath the oily lips, her naked thighs against my own and her bottom balled upon my hand.
    “Ha-haaar!” moaned Jane, but she did not resist. My last pearls spilled, her belly trembling fleshily to mine- then the white light of final weakness, and I sagged. A moan came from below that made us start-Jane to draw back and pull her drawers up quick. Oh, pell-mell were we then and I not suited to the task, but out we must. I thrust my dwindling cock back in and turned and took the camera-Caroline the stand.
    “Oh, quickly, quick!” said Adelaide. A breathless surging and we all were out, the night air cool upon our brows.
    “Oh my God, they will hear us,” moaned Jane.
    “They will hear nothing but their own cries, and those not for a few moments yet. They are not fully conscious. Come!” I said and made them follow me in tattered flight along the gravelled drive until we reached the carriage and they tumbled in, I taking up the reins and we were off, jingle of harness and the graunching of the wheels until we reached Jane's house again. There she got down with Caroline. The scene for the next act was set, but I was not, alas, to witness it, and had my magic chemistry to see to, anyway. I thus report what was told to me, and word for word will set it down.
    Upon entering the house, the two found Ethel all alone. Mabel was up in bed, she said, and grinned victoriously as she spoke. Mabel had drunk the wine we had provided, but Ethel had not.
    “She is asleep?” asked Jane who showed composure in her own abode.
    “Yes, dear, and nicely so. Papa will have a frightful shock to find her in his bed.”
    “That is just what we want, but then I will ameliorate the shock. Leave it to me, my pets, as we agreed. He will be home within the hour? Good. Both of you,” then, go to bed on his arrival. Show but a mild concern. I wish it to be no more than that or you may spoil the trick of it. Act as if it were natural, though it will not be for long,” said Caroline, then fell to describing to Ethel what had passed. No sooner, though, had she reached the point where the two photographs were taken than Jane said quickly that she would relate the rest, and fell a-whispering to her sister.
    “Come no, it is not a secret 'twixt the three of us. You will both have to learn manual dexterity in future, dears,” Caroline interrupted, causing the sisters to bite their lips and stare at her. “Well-will you not-if all is to be saved?” she asked.
    From Jane the faintest nod. Ethel just blinked and gazed into her lap, but Caroline showed patience and said no more upon the subject then and led the way upstairs to look at Mabel whose sleeping state was one of innocence, though utterly unclothed.
    “She will learn well from this night,” said Jane with compressed lips as they retreated.
    “Into your nightgowns, girls, and I shall do the same,” said Caroline, “Your father may be here at any moment now.”
    And in twenty minutes Thomas did arrive, to be greeted to his great astonishment by Caroline who patently wore nothing underneath her night attire which clung bewitchingly around her limbs. I need not detail word for word, though, all their conversation. Mabel had drunk unwisely, Caroline informed him, and she had thought it best to stay and put the girl to bed.
    “In my room?” asked a bewildered Thomas, though his eyes were truly filled with the voluptuous vision of my wife's half naked breasts and the outlines of her thighs.
    “That was my problem. Where to put her, Thomas? Neither Jane nor Ethel have a double bed, though you may think it wise in future that they should. I have, of course, the spare room-but if you wish me to leave…”
    “At this hour? Heavens, no, my dear. I could sleep on the couch, of course.”
    “You certainly will not! In your own house? She is so fast asleep, my dear, that she will not awaken till the morn and will not know you have been there. Come, look at her, she looks so sweet.”
    “I-ah-well, yes, but I think it best… ”
    “Quiet, Thomas! Do not wake her, pray,” said Caroline, and then began to lead him up the stairs, upon which signal Jane and Ethel made appearance on the landing, garbed as lightly as was she.
    “She sleeps so deeply that one will never wake her till tomorrow,” Jane said simply.
    “Yes, my pet, but…”
    “Well-goodnight, Papa.” A kiss on tiptoes and he felt her bosom, thighs and belly warm against his. Then Ethel's came in turn, though not so close, and swiftly then they turned into their rooms, their bottoms globing boldly under their thin coverings, the which he could not fail to see.
    'The twin visions ripened up his cock a little-warmth of bodies, and the stillness of the night,” said Caroline. Still demurring as he was, she led him in where Mabel lay, her lips half parted, nipples peeping over the sheet's edge.
    “I say!” breathed Thomas, and he all but backed away.
    “Like mother, like daughter-how divinely formed she is! Pray that you have a pleasant night,” said Caroline and drifted back towards the door, holding the handle as she did.
    “But, look here, I cannot…!” he began, though not unnaturally was loathe to take his eyes off of the vision that his bed contained.
    Caroline put her finger to her lips. “Rise, early, Tom before she is awake. Be gone, and she will never know that you were here. Besides, such close acquaintance will become you both if you are to marry Esmeralda, will it not? You may be sure that, even if she knew, she would say nothing of the matter. I would see to that-and so would Jane and Ethel. They have your very closest interests at heart, my dear. Were there to be a complaint from Mabel-which of course there will not be-then we would all aver that she slept in my bed.”
    “B… but, look Caroline… if she awakes and finds me in her bed-or rather, mine…”
    “Is there a female in this house, my dear, who in dark would turn away from you? Not I nor anyone I know. The treasures that surround you are abundant, Thomas. Do not let them go to waste. Goodnight!”


    What lustrous thoughts engaged me when I heard all this! My ideas ran riot, I confess.
    “Did you surprise him in the act?” I asked.
    “With Jane and Ethel? Goodness-no! Did you expect an orgy with such well-brought-up young ladies? Shame on you! We-er-we did listen, I confess. At first the silence was prolonged. We crept along the corridor with no harm of being heard. There came a gasp within-murmurs were heard. The girls held hands and started as the floor creaked, but I motioned them to be still. Then whispered flutterings were heard.
    “What… doing here…? Sleepy… Cuddle me. I don't mind if you do. No, no of course I wouldn't tell Mama. Oooh, that feels nice. How big it is! Mmm, yes, I thought it would be big. I feel so warm so nice and warm. Do you? Wh… what?”
    A sound of kissing then.-“Oooh-hoo, it's naughty! Yes, all right.” All this from Mabel. The voice of Thomas was more slurred. “Turn over-turn your back to me,” he said.
    “What doing… what? It won't go in that way-it won't!”
    “Just press… press bottom back. How swollen are your titties, dear.”
    “Mmmm… hmmm! You can't! It won't go in!”
    “Patience, my pet, and let your bottomhole relax. There, there… you see? A little more…”
    “B… b… b… but… It's g… g…going in! Oh! Feels so funny! Oh! Not quite so much!”
    “Have patience and you'll soon absorb it all. Don't wriggle quite so much. There… half of it is up you now; my pet. What thighs and tits you have-what lustrous bottom cheeks! Yes, wriggle now-you may a little now. 'Twill help it ease up your bottom more…!!!.
    “N… naughty man! I didn't mean to let you do it yet… Mama said…!”
    “What did she say? What said? Give me your tongue, you little witch. Press back now more. I'm almost… right… up in your bottom now.”
    “There… there…” Tongue-lickings. Kisses sweet. Caroline, who stood behind the girls essayed to touch Jane's derriere and felt it stir. Her other hand encompassed Ethel's underneath the pert, tight cheeks.
    “What's doing-what?” asked Ethel blurrily, and never having heard of cock to bottom put.
    “I know,” Jane said unsteadily. She turned her neck. Her lips met Caroline's, long-lingered as her polished bottom moved on my wife's palm. Then Ethel, copying, allowed toll to be taken of her own mouth, too. And so they stood, a triumvirate of warm desire, and listened to the moans and gasps within-lewd words that sounded in the tolling of the night until the last frenetic cries, and Thomas came, a-pumping up his semen into Mabel's derriere.
    The girls, half-swooning then, were led away.
    “What was he doing?” Ethel asked again when all three crept into her room.
    “You know, so don't pretend,” said Jane. She lay back, head upon a pillow, squashing Ethel to the wall. Her nipples peaked out through her nightdress. Caroline caressed them lightly, all three lying tightly on the bed.
    “Her mother said… I wonder what she said,” said Ethel. Her face rested to her sister's neck, their knees and thighs uncovered slowly by the hands of Caroline.
    “Whatever it was-and I can guess-she will rue it now.”
    “The two of them would soon have been abed with him-lured him into their clutches. Now, darlings, don't be timid-draw your nighties up. Let me attend to you, you dear, sweet things. You two will be more tight than she if you are not teased up a little first,” said Caroline.
    “Don't Caroline-it's wicked. Do not say such things,” said Jane. Her words were slurred, though. As her bush was slowly shown, her mouth met Caroline's, who with her free-hand stroked her face and with the other felt her cunnylips. “Delicious, darling. What rolled lips you have! Cock-hungry are you not, by now? You, dear, will have to be the first; you know you will. Open your legs now; learn to show it more.”
    “You two! Don't be. so naughty!” Ethel said. Her tongue peeped out and touched her sister's neck as Caroline then bared her quim in turn. The three began to pant. Their fingers searched…
    “Go on!” I said to Caroline who told the story far too slowly for my taste.
    “What is to tell? I had them with their legs wide open, dearest-tongued them to distraction, and Ethel with one leg over her sister's. It was very sweet. I had them panting till they came, salting my tongue in turn. They came abundantly. I tell you, dearest, when they take the cock…”
    “They have not yet?”
    “Tush, tush-what do you take them for? They are not wantons; they need schooling still. As to the morning, though-that was the trick of it.”
    Indeed it was. Oh, would I had been there-hidden behind the arras or concealed in some dark, friendly alcove. Thomas was up and gone somewhere when all the females rose, yawning and stretching, paddling hands in water, clothed in misty cobwebs of the night.
    Mabel, surprised, was found abed, and would have lounged there still had Caroline not surged into her room and got her up, bustling around just as a mother might.
    “I slept alone,” said Mabel as she dressed.
    “And used two pillows-yes, I see,” said Caroline, then left her to prepare for breakfast which she took alone, the others having eaten, moving silently around.
    Bemused, and wondering at the absence of her gallant rider of the night who almost certainly had doused her nest as well, Mabel hastened her repast and took herself to Jane and Ethel in the morning room.
    “What a lovely morning it is! What a lovely house! Oh, I shall like it so, I know I will,” said the pert Miss to both and then received the frostiest of stares.
    “Ah, Mabel, did you have a pleasant night? A not unrestful one? Papa said to give you something-here,” responded Jane and rose and handed her a sovereign from her palm.
    “A s… s… sovereign? What is this for, then?”
    “Do you not know? Some service you performed, perhaps? Papa said it would be enough. Quite enough in fact, he said.”
    “For my… what? I fail to understand you, Jane. Oh, I have never been so insulted in my life! I shall seek explanations-J shall leave!”
    “As to the former, Mabel, do not bother. Papa said that he did not expect to see you again. As to the latter-yes, you may. Our carriage awaits to take you home.”
    “Really? Do you understand when I say that I have never been so insulted in my life?” flared Mabel, who clearly could not think of anything else to say.
    “Oh, there is still time-I am quite sure of that,” replied Jane coldly. Then the young woman's cloak and gloves were fetched, a bonnet adjusted hastily upon her head, and she was briskly ushered forth.
    As to myself, I had meanwhile a different part to play and had delivered stealthily a missive through the letterbox of Esmeralda's house. Penned by Jane in a concealed hand, it read: “Your secret has been uncovered, Mrs. Tompkins-Smith. The enclosed likeness of yourself and your quite virile son is one that you would not want the world to see. If you are not gone before the close of day, and if your house is not put up for sale, similar likenesses will be distributed to your closest friends and dear acquaintances. Beware!”
    I rather like that last word-though a touch theatrical.
    By evening, Esmeralda and her two offspring were flown. The house stood empty and the shutters closed.
    “Cruel but necessary, “Caroline observed. She added thoughtfully, “I have arranged to visit Jane and Ethel, dear, on Friday. Shall you come?”
    I answered briskly, of course, that I would. I wished in any event to see how Thomas had taken it. For though we had no word to him, the sudden departure of Esmeralda had been spread about as always in the countryside, and hence we found him in a pensive mood while Jane and Ethel, too, were quiet. The former I managed to draw aside and asked her how things were.
    “Oh, he is broody,” she replied, and put on quite a sulky look. I kissed her-felt her bottom and her tits. She squirmed a little but did not resist.
    “It is up to you to buck him up,” said I.
    “Yes, I suppose. Dear Caroline says that as well. It is not so easy as you think. And Ethel is so backward, too.”
    “I have a cure for that, my pet. We only came to pay respects, y'know, and so will not stop long.”
    “Oh! I hoped that Caroline might stay and…”
    “You must manage things yourself now, Jane. Wait. I will fetch the cure. There is no other that I know of now.”
    “But, wait! You do not understand!”
    I had not time for arguments, nor had an inclination for. hem then. In the hall I opened a carpetbag that I had brought and produced a bottle from it that I took to her, evading with stealth the drawing room wherein the others quietly talked.
    Jane stared at it and ran her tongue along her lips. Her tongue would soon be in another's mouth, I thought.
    “It is the same wine that we gave to Esmeralda,” she said thickly, blushed and turned away. I pressed it to her hand. She held the neck of it and stood forlorn, or made that she seemed to do. With woman one can never tell. “We shall all fall asleep,” she said.
    “By no means. You will each drink half a glass-no more. Be sure you pour it carefully. Your loins will tingle and your breasts will swell, as then will Ethel's too. You will feel lightness, heat, all three of you. Feeling thus- not caring what you do-you slowly will unclothe, and then…”
    “Ah, Jane-I see that you have found the wine!”
    I scarcely need say the interjection came from Caroline who entered then. Her voice was raised deliberately and heard by Thomas to the uttermost dismay of Jane who shook her head and motioned Caroline to be quiet. That was not how we had planned it, though. Bottle in hand, the girl was led into the drawing room while Caroline chatted brightly as to her “discovery.” Thomas looked up bemused. Ethel sank down and quickly crossed her legs.
    “The dear girl-a very special wine she bought for you, and then mislaid it,” Caroline said to Thomas. “Is it not so, Jane?'
    “I… yes… I mean-well,” uttered Jane who in the light of her great debt to us could scarcely say us nay.
    “Charming, my dear,” said Thomas, “Shall our guest enjoy it, too?”
    “Oh no, no, no-no, we must go. Forgive us, will you not? 'Twas but a passing visit and to see that all was well. All will be now; I am quite sure of that. Why, Jane, what was it that you said? A half glass is enough, you said?” asked Caroline with artfulness.
    “I th… th… think so-yes,” Jane murmured, swallowed and studied the carpet with great earnestness.
    “Well, fetch a corkscrew, Thomas. You must celebrate her little gift. An act of love; I know it to be that. The dear girl has you in her heart, as Ethel does,” said Caroline.
    “Ah, yes-of course. They both are angels-that they are. A half glass only, eh? It must be a most unusual brew-an ancient vintage,” came from Thomas who appeared to liven up, procuring corkscrew, glasses, and the bottle taken then from Jane's uncertain hand.
    “A special vintage, yes indeed,” said I, “Procures a wondrous afterglow, Jane said. Did you not tell us so, my dear?”
    “Eh? Did I? Yes, I must have done,” she flustered.
    The cork popped. Ethel sat as if encased in ice. She had the slightly haunted look her sister had. I knew that they would sip as slowly as they could, feeling the inexorable fire of it and then with helpless wondering drink on.
    “You will not stay for half a glass?” asked Thomas of us with a certain merriment, though innocent enough.
    “Oh no! No-no-they must be gone, Papa. Jane's eyes alone urged us away.
    “Regretfully we must,” I said. Our farewells made and we were gone.
    “The last act, alas. We shall not see it played,” said Caroline as we took to our carriage, entered it, and looked towards the house where the lights glowed and the wine was being poured with grave exactitude.
    “A pleasant taste,” Thomas would say while his two angels nodded timidly.
    At the last gulp, fire seeping through their veins, their eyes would glaze a little, and all would relax. Ethel and Jane would feel the swelling of their breasts, their nipples stiff. Their loins, grown warm, would pulse impatiently. Their lips would part, and all would softly breathe. Thomas would cross his legs uncomfortably to hide the glowing stalk of his erection which would tentpole his trousers quite remarkably. Then, growing careless in the deeper flush of it, he would let his legs fall lax, apart, and feel a boldness on him he had never known before, the bulge displayed unhindered to their sight.
    “It is quiet tonight,” I imagined him to say.
    “It is indeed, Papa.”
    Jane would speak first. Their voice would sound hollow in their heads. Cunnies would tingle, wanting to be touched. Their knees would fall apart in turn, and they would sigh.
    “Will you not sit with me? Jane-Ethel? Come…”
    Unsteady would their rising be, and yet not timorous. The floor would seem to bend beneath their feet-their hips would sway. The sofa would squeak a welcome to their bottoms, and their heads would fall upon his shoulders, one on each side, lips apart.
    His head would turn. His lips would fall first upon Jane's, her mouth kept open to his seeking tongue. Ethel, in turn, would lose timidity. His arms around their waists, beneath their armpits, he would boldly palm their titties nearest to his hands and find them swollen rich, beneath their gowns.
    “It is hot tonight, Papa. Is it not hot?”
    “Indeed it is, my pets. Loosen your corsages, remove your dresses and your drawers. Let us be free from these unwanted coverings at last.”
    Their hands would move like hands that never moved before, the buttons slipping from the buttonholes, the silky, milky gourds revealed, the nipples firm and rubbery, expectant, tingling to his touch, weighed, fondled, while they raised their skirts…
    “What are you thinking-thinking now?” And this, across my thoughts, from Caroline.
    “That Thomas will not stray again, nor will the girls have cause to-fret for their inheritance.”
    “Those are the words. What of the music, dear?” she laughed, and whispered, “He will plough their furrows in the night. Will you, too, be my ploughman in the night, lie on my belly, plight your troth to me-again, again?”
    “Again and ever on,” said I.
    The cartwheels rattled. In the dark, a bird twittered somewhere from a dusky hedge as we drove by, and then- amazed by its own indiscretion-it fell quiet. The house had long diminished from our sight-had grown smaller, as immediate memories do, waiting to burgeon later when one dwells on them and draws them out from cloudy nothingness.
    “Autumn will be upon us soon,” said Caroline.
    “Coal fires and kindling wood, the evenings chill,” said I.
    The lanes narrowed and closed-in behind us as we rode, waiting for dawn that they might open up again and let the world unroll upon us once again with all its mysteries, its seeking joys-the pleasures that await to be distilled.