Lavender's lips twisted in a smile that she did her best to conceal, for her heart was thumping.
“Really?” she asked and felt a hand steal upon her thigh. Still averting her gaze, she continued to stare out of the window. Little by little she felt him gathering up her skirt but pretended to be totally unaware of such an untoward thing until her thighs were bared. “Ah! what are you at?” she remonstrated, but by then her fervent pussy was already prey to his fingers and the jolting of the carriage made the lips of it surge to his touch.
Endeavouring feebly to wrest his hand away, despite their one previous bout together, Lavender found her mouth submissively placed beneath Roger's.
“Oh, you naughty man, I do believe you to be truly wicked!” she uttered whilst parting her legs more for his convenience and reaching for his cock, which she uncovered deftly. The stem was thick and long, admirably suiting her tastes at that moment as the lubricious events at the manor swam in her mind.
“Indeed, are we not both so?” declared Roger, who had a fine suspicion of what she had been about prior to bursting into the bedroom.
“No, 'tis you,” protested Lavender all too faintly as she was laid back on the seat and prepared for amourous combat, her resplendent thighs, belly, and mottle uncovered to his view.
“Lie still and uncover your breasts,” commanded her brother in such tones as she had never heard before. Indeed, her mouth opened and closed in astonishment before she obeyed him. With senses swimming, she felt the crest of his charger part her petulant lips below while his mouth descended upon her nipples and roamed about the creamy orbs. Quite quivering with desire, she wrapped her arms about him and began to sob her pleasure as inch by inch his stem invaded her. His buttocks heaved, her slit tightened and then relaxed, and with a joyful sigh from both he was lodged within her to his balls.
“Has Mary not been put to the cock before?” Roger murmured whilst pecking at her eager lips and letting the slow jolting of the carriage effect their movements.
“I b… b… believe so,” murmured Lavender in a daze, though she knew well enough by now whose prick had urged its leaping essence into Mary's pretty pussy. “Ah, dearest, fuck me, for it is quite delicious, though I should not say it. Oh, you bad boy, what a cock you have. May I not move my bottom now? Please permit me,” she wheedled coyly, quite enamoured of his masterful behaviour.
“Wriggle it, my pet, yes,” panted Roger who was by now in anticipation of several such bouts that day, one not least of all with Mary, whom he fully intended to rod again. Thus cupping his sister's warm, firm cheeks on his palms, he experienced with bliss her ineluctable fervours as she wriggled and rolled, bringing him on ever closer to the spermatic bliss which within seconds each pantingly enjoyed.
Farther back in the other carriage meanwhile, Pamela had seen to Mary, who she realised was in heat for the injection she had sorely lacked from her uncle. Having drawn the girl across her lap, she had duly uncovered her luscious rear, which presented itself without ado to Rupert's cock. He, by guidance from Pamela, taking the more conventional of the two offered routes, was quickly ensconced and with passionate sobs Mary duly received the pulsing jets of essence which for the moment at least cooled her young desires, but left her ardent for the kisses Pamela then lavished upon her.
Chapter eighteen
An air of quiet reigned over the Waterhouse manor the next morning. His Lordship, having failed to return to the ancestral home, the proceedings of the night had been of a most libertine nature.
Lavender, who walked now in the garden with Pamela, absorbing the morning sun, persuaded herself that she remembered very little of what had happened after dinner the previous evening. A bibulous haze had descended over her mind, or so she preferred to think. Quite obviously it was not possible that she, Mary, and Pamela had all been tupped, first in the drawing room and then upon the beds, though it was with vague surprise that she had discovered their dresses and chemises scattered over the drawing room carpet that morning.
Mary lay sweetly sleeping still in her bed, whence she had been borne in the early hours, having not only been Rogered but Ruperted as well. Opening her eyes for a moment, and then her legs, she fingered her cunny in pleasant reminiscence, happily aware that her dear Mama could henceforth never upbraid her again. With that thought, she drifted back into dreamland while in their own beds Roger and Rupert languidly considered that the events of the night might be renewed and that they had best rest up in that hope.
Turning over possibilities that were not by any means dissimilar, Lavender asked Pamela whether she would not like to stay. She saw much to be gained by the girl's taking up residence with them, for she could act as companion, lure, and go-between.
For her part, Pamela had considered the idea already but briefly, though she felt extremely warm to Lady Waterhouse, who was neither so sly nor devious as her female employer and was delicious to watch in the throes of passion. How best and most politely she could refuse she knew not, but finally decided to do so with honesty, being grateful that with Lavender she could do so.
Casting herself down upon the velvety sward in a manner that invited Lady Waterhouse to follow suit, the two embraced tenderly, pecking at each other's lips like doves.
“Fond as I have grown of you, I though must needs move on,” Pamela murmured, adding quickly, “I shall stay another night with you if you wish.”
“That I do desire, though perhaps we must not be so naughty. But why will you not stay?” Lavender implored.
Thereupon for the first time Pamela unveiled to her completely the events of the night at Sir Richard's house, to all of which Lavender listened intently. What she herself had gained from Mary was that her Papa had been very naughty indeed with her, but now she saw in a new light all that had transpired and was ready to forgive the two in the heat of the moment.
“Indeed, so it should be,” Pamela said wisely, “and hence you see that my mission is complete, for now she takes her injections as prettily as ever you do, having quite properly learned-as you have-to vary your steeds.”
“Oh! and is that your purpose?” laughed Lavender, though she could not help but blush.
In her strange little way, however, Pamela preserved her serious mien.
“Such treasures as we females possess must be properly nurtured and handled in a manner that becomes them, Lavender. It would not do at all if girls were put about to all manner of crude and rough gentry. 'Tis better that they undergo their trials first, and then they may choose as they will, for they will have gained knowledge and experience thereby.”
“Really, what a quaint and lovely creature you are!” Lavender declared, hugging her. Thereupon they set to discussing the whole matter until Lady Waterhouse felt herself quite converted and vowed to expound the philosophy as far as she was able. Working on all sorts of possibilities, her agile mind at last saw an opening that Pamela might wish to entertain, for the place she had in mind lay but not ten miles away. Thus, as she explained, they would not be too far distant from each other.
This intelligence Pamela received with pleasure, already having decided to leave the Bromley abode as soon as possible since her mission there was also finished. So the two lay talking, being refreshed with iced lemonade and minding not the time-until lunch was announced.
Mary being seemingly too shy to appear-though having been given her hors d'oeuvre by Roger, who left her bottom looking somewhat like a cream bun- Lavender and Pamela partook of lunch alone. Roger and Rupert had departed to change their attire and return for dinner, it being agreed that they might do so “if they behaved themselves,” though neither was minded to and Lavender secretly hoped that they wouldn't.
That afternoon, therefore, Lavender and Pamela sallied forth in an open carriage to visit the house where, as Lavender thought, some possibilities might lie. En route they stopped at an inn to slake their thirsts, though with due thought Pamela partook only of lemonade, being determined to look her most respectable and to have no smell of wine upon her breath. Indeed, she had adorned herself in one of Mary's primmest dresses, which though an inch or two short for her, fitted her otherwise admirably and was pleasingly tight about her hips and bosom.
The house they were to visit was known as The Grange, Lavender explained. The head of the household was one Thomas Tomkins, who had gained his fortune from the railways. He was a kindly yet stern man, given to keeping his daughters and sons under firm rein.
“That he is stern may be an asset, for sternness may be moulded into firmness, which is all that is required,”
