CHAPTER ELEVEN
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
