the clitoris, for example… As Kathleen lapped at the enlarged red stalk with her tongue, she recalled how rapidly the little protuberance had grown since the early days of their sex games. It was now so prominent and stiff that it required merely the slightest touch of a finger-or, better still, a tongue-for the caress to provoke Lisa into an orgasm.
Even as she thought this, Kathleen became conscious that Lisa's hips were working urgently backwards and forwards; thrusting in hard, tight movements that made the girl's wet, open sex-slit rub fiercely against her mouth. The juice spurted forth, flowing into the Governess's throat and clinging stickily to her tongue-just as Richard found the slot of her cunt and sent his prick driving strongly up the channel, penetrating her in a single, ruthless motion that sent glorious waves of passion spreading throughout the woman's body.
His stomach was pressed against her buttocks, welding their flesh, the skin sticking together with the adhesion of their sweat, and Kathleen's arse cheeks were slightly open, sending a greater heat searing up into Richard's abdomen as the raw hole of her anus burned against the boy's under-belly. His prick was rising into her cunt from an angle-and the large mounds of her bottom which wobbled like slabs of pink jelly as Richard fucked in and out required a greater effort than usual if he was to slam his cock to the hilt each time it entered her slit.
He clung to the woman like a leech, his body fastened to her back as if they were two rutting dogs. Beneath them, the lilo bounced steadily: its air-filled mattress providing a none-too-secure bed for their lust. One of Richard's hands crept beneath Kathleen's tummy. He slid his palm down to the moist, furry triangle and his fingers began to fondle at the hard ridge of flesh, feeling the powerful movement of his knob through the skin-its thick, surging rhythm seeming to make Kathleen's pubis swell out each time it fully entered her quim, and then subside for a second or two while he withdrew again.
Soon, his fingers ventured to the extremely wet lips of her sex. They stroked the open flaps, occasionally touching his own prick and examining the thick, juicy moisture which coated it-the pungent slime of his Governess's love-cream now running freely and seeping out of her crack in a rich, apparently endless trickling…
Without warning, a sudden flash of horror struck through Kathleen Wynter's mind. A dreadful premonition, a terrible guilt, struck like lightning across her pleasure and shattered it; and although she was unable to name the awful numbing fear which created this sensation, Kathleen couldn't resist the urge to violently scramble free of Richard's quickly thrusting cock and fight her way clear of the couple!
Lisa and Richard were too amazed to restrain her. They cried out in simultaneous frustration and anger, but their limbs were paralysed-they couldn't believe that the woman would terminate the wonderful joining of their bodies when-only a moment before-she had been sucking Lisa's cunt with gusto and receiving the fucks of Richard's cock so gratefully!
“I–I can't go on!” Kathleen sobbed. “You don't understand-but I mustn't let you seduce me like this!”
She couldn't begin to explain to the children, nor could she provide any logical reason to her own mind to account for her strange behaviour. In tears, and with her body shuddering with longing-a longing she knew she had to suppress-Kathleen snatched up her bikini and hurried into the house…
Lisa and Richard stared at each other, incredulous and tormented by the painful ache in their genitals: the girl biting her lower lip in anguish as she felt the throbbing emptiness in her quim; the boy wincing as his prick twitched redly, its glistening shaft now rearing uselessly up against his stomach.
Their need was too great to be delayed while they ran after Kathleen and persuaded her not to be so stupid. Uttering strange, guttural animal-sounds, Lisa and Richard fell into each other's arms. They sprawled together on the hot grass, their naked bodies yearning for fulfilment, their arms reaching around one another, their loins straining passionately and Richard's pulsing cock stabbing frantically at the soft wet meat of his step-sister's cunt.
It slid into the eager mouth like a knife slicing into rancid butter. The straining, rigid flesh of the boy's knob crammed tightly into Lisa's slit, pushing aside the moist and agitated lips, fucking straight up into the depths of her quim with a force that buried it in one swift movement to its hilt. He reached beneath her, scooping his hands into her buttocks and lifting the girl upwards. She opened her thighs to their widest extent-her legs quivering from toe to crotch on the warm, well-trimmed grass-jerking her hips up and down as she received the mighty strokes of Richard's knob.
Wildly, they screwed to a climax: the battering force of the boy's sex-weapon filling Lisa with hot, satisfying sperm as he pounded out his orgasm within moments of entering her cunt. The long, sustained outpouring was physically satisfying, but their emotions were still in a state of turmoil at Kathleen's unaccountable disappearance at the height of the orgy. They remained locked together, the powerful shaft of Richard's prick continuing to vibrate inside his step-sister's quim even though the last drops of spunk had dripped from the weapon. A sense of isolation came over the couple, an emptiness that baffled and perplexed them…
Breathing deeply, with their bodies tightly entwined and their flesh bathed with perspiration, they didn't hear the crunch of gravel as their father's car entered the driveway to the garage at the side of the garden.
Nor did they realise that John Cunningham was now striding down the path towards them, his features undergoing a frightful series of contortions. At first, he had merely glimpsed their naked figures and assumed that they were romping playfully-in itself a misdemeanour which warranted serious punishment. But as he drew closer to the children, seeing that their bodies were motionless, that Richard was lying on top of Lisa and that the girl's legs were spread wide beneath her step-brother, Cunningham's face turned white and his hands knotted into big, angry fists.
For a moment, as he towered over the couple, and as they turned their startled, fearful eyes upwards, he half-believed that he was imagining the scene; that his mind was playing a cruel trick, that the loathsome and impossible degradation before him was a figment of fantasy…
Then Cunningham rubbed his knuckles fiercely into his eyes-as if trying to wipe away the dreadful imprint on his retinas, — and when he removed his hands, seeing the same filthy picture confronting him, he lost all control: punching wildly and furiously into the flesh he had helped to create, veins standing out on his forehead like thick red cords as he struck them again and again…
CHAPTER FOUR
It was conceivable that force of his violent anger might have led John Cunningham into killing the boy and girl with his bare hands. But, fortunately, the brutal punishment which he was inflicting on Lisa and Richard was interrupted by Kathleen before any serious injuries had been suffered by the children.
She came running out into the garden directly she heard their screams-a dressing gown donned hastily but concealingly around her body. After a strenuous blows from the man's wildly swinging fists, she succeeded in calming him down a little… sufficiently, at any rate, for Cunningham to stop beating the helpless, cringing young couple and lurch away towards the house; his body shaking with fury.
Kathleen managed to drive home the message that his violence would attract the attention of the neighbours, and it was this factor above all other considerations which persuaded Cunningham to desist. Whispering quickly to the children, urging them to keep out of the way while she talked to their father-and pleading with terrified eyes for them not to implicate her in the scandal which had erupted-Kathleen followed Cunningham through the French windows and into the lounge; waiting and trying to control the trembling of her knees while he poured himself several stiff brandies and gulped them back in swift succession.
He kept his back to the Governess while he drank, and when he finally turned to face the woman Cunningham's face was drained of colour-his normally ruddy complexion a pasty white. He sank heavily into an armchair. His eyes had lost their fire and seemed glazed; his voice was defeated and a mere shadow of its former deep timbre.
“Did you know about this?”
Kathleen shook her head, not trusting herself to speak just yet.
“I can't believe it!” Cunningham whispered. “They had everything! I did everything a man without a wife could do… they never wanted for a damn thing!”
Kathleen knew better than to contradict him. She hovered anxiously near the French windows, which were now closed, listening until the long tirade of his self-pitying monologue had exhausted itself. Cunningham eventually lapsed into silence, and she summoned up the courage to approach him. Tentatively, Kathleen suggested that
