might have done? I let her and Sylvia disappear into Jane's room and then ventured quietly up. As I suspected, Phillip's door was closed. I turned the handle gently. It was locked. I knew that the feet that Jane had given me the key meant that I was to enter.
On doing so, I found Phillip huddled up on his black couch along the wall beside his desk. He had his back to me and faced the wall, was curled up like a child.
'What are you at?', I asked as brashly as I could, and closed the door and turned the key again. He did not answer me. I bent and touched him on the shoulder. He appeared to me asleep at first and wished to give that impression, I am sure.
'Phillip?', I asked again. For a moment I felt a tremor of anxiety, then pressed upon his shoulder to make him turn. He would not do so. 'What?', I asked as foolishly as one does in such silent situations. Bending over him more and placing one knee just behind his hips, I noticed that his trousers were undone and that the knob of his prick was peeping out. Then of a sudden he began to cry in huge sobs like a child. No tears, just sobs. I turned him on his back and sat beside him and said sharply, 'Phillip!'
'Go away. Oh, my god, go away!', he moaned, but I sensed no real strength in his tone and so, plumping my bottom on the edge of the couch, I forced him over to look up at me, at which he made a feeble move to cover up his Peeping Tom.
'You naughty boy, what are you at?', I asked. I had no doubt that Jane's hand had preceded mine and that hers indeed had forced open the gap by guile, persuasiveness or coaxing.
'Mummy cuddle Phillip?', I asked. I know not why such words came to my lips, but they seemed to suit his mournful look and the situation which hung rather upon my acts than any that he might intend.
I thrust my legs up on to the couch and lay alongside him with my knees to his.
'Has naughty Jane been teasing you?', I wheedled. A tremendous gasp came from him as I palmed his prick and drew it from its hiding place, then plunged my tongue into his flaccid mouth. He jerked just as a girl does. 'Muriel play with it?', I breathed into his lips.
'I hate you-hate you both', he moaned.
'Of course you do, of course you do. Oh my, it's getting big now, isn't it?'
His cock indeed began to swell. His mouth was open to my tongue. He gurgled, but his arms lay limp. He clearly knew not whether he was in Hell or Paradise.
'Come on, come on, you naughty boy', I urged. The swollen rod pulsed more within my hand. I moved my fingers lightly up and down its girth and felt the veins all starting up. 'Muriel is going to make it nice', I said. I knew it not at file time, but I had chanced exactly on the words that fitted his dark mood-such inner longings as he has. He choked his sobs the more and worked his mouth to the sensuous encouragement of mine.
'No, no!', he gurgled as I felt him pulse the more. The night was lost for Phillip, though. I inched my gown up, brought my stockinged knee beneath his balls which I had wheedled out. My tongue worked more deeply in his mouth.-'I c… c… can't', he sobbed.
'You can-you must. Be a good boy and let it come', I said. Our noses rubbed, his loins were all a-twitch. -'Put your hand up between my legs', I whispered.
'Oh god, no! How wicked! Stop, I beg you stop-you must!', he groaned, but I-impatient-seized his limp right hand and brought it high beneath my skirt where he could feel my thighs above my stocking tops. 'Oh, sin!', came his weak moan.
'Feel Muriel's naughty thing, you silly boy', said I. I had seduced a few young boys more easily than I could my older brother-felt amusement and excitement both at once. I made his fingertips brush underneath my furry quim. He felt its stickiness, the parted lips, his face a mask of sensual agony.-'Come, darling-Uncle Reggie always used to come with both of us', I murmured, 'Do it, Phillip- do it in your sister's hand'.
'Gar-ah!', he choked. He seized my neck and brought my mouth down savagely on his, sobbing the while in long and breathless gasps, and then he spouted in a fine, long arc. I raised my face to see. The long, thick strings of sperm shot in the air and splashed down on my wrist.
'Oh, my lovely boy! How nice it is to do it, is it not? Think of Uncle Reggie doing it in both our nests', I said.
'No, no! My god! Ah-OOOH!' He spouted then again- thrice more his jets arced out and then the weakening flood laid more cream on the cuff of my blue dress. I rolled upon him then and pinned him down, feeling his cock a- throb against my bush.
'There, there, good Phillip-what a lovely lot you did! Now you go sleepy-byes, my pet, and Muriel will do it to you in the morning, if you're good'.
'We are in sin!', he moaned.
My patience almost broke at that. I worked myself up from him, tickled his thick, sticky worm, then wiped my wrist upon his trouser leg and slipped without, leaving the key this time within the lock. Going to my room, I removed my dress, chemise and shoes, tightened my stockings and took myself on tiptoe to Jane's room. As I expected, the two lay naked in the bed.
'Is she not lovely? I have made her come again', said Jane. The two lay breasts to breasts. Sylvia quivered in her grasp and closed her eyes. I climbed in on the other side of our dear niece and sandwiched her between us.
'Put the tip of your finger in her bottomhole. She needs it there', said Jane.
'I d… d… don't!', squealed Sylvia. Her rose was moist between her tight, pert cheeks. I rubbed my finger round the crinkled orifice.
'You are going to learn to have to have it there', said I. Jane lifted up Sylvia's upper leg and brought it over her own hip. I urged my finger in a little bit and felt her squeeze on it protectively. Jane fingered Sylvia's oily honeypot. The dear child whimpered, came again-then I knelt over her and made her lick my cunny which she did quiescently until I sprinkled her with dew.
Deirdre's Day-Book
Richard pumped me last night, all against my will-O wicked boy. He hid beneath my dressing table where the covers drape! I did not see nor hear him and undressed, believing him to be abed. Naked I was when he sprang out unclothed, and I with my back to him and seeking out my nightdress from beneath my pillows. I screeched in my surprise, and surely Amy must have heard.-'No, Richard, no!', I pleaded softly, fearing she would come. He had me tumbled down upon the bed, my bottom up against his throbbing tool.
'Be quiet, Mama, I beg you-let me put it in', he choked.
How long we wrestled, fought, I do not know, I weakening all the time to feel his cock all rigid up against my flesh. I cried. He kissed my tears away, forced me upon my back and lay upon my belly, pleading on and on till I succumbed, O shamefully succumbed, and let the knob slip up between my lips. One urging thrust and it was in. My feet hung down upon the floor, I breathing broken sobs into his mouth.
Slowly he did it to me-long, slow strokes while I exerted suction on his prick, moaning my little moans of pleasure that I did not wish to feel. He sucked my nipples, spread my legs more, coaxed me on with devilish whispers of desire until I clasped him, fell headlong into the spell of it, working my bottom to his eager thrusts.
'Don't come too soon', I murmured all despite myself. Oh that my tongue should run away with me! We are possessed who cannot help ourselves. He pressed his cheek against my own, panted and worked his loins more slowly back and forth, holding his spermatic impulse back as best he could.
'You wanted me to do it to you, did you not', he husked into my ear. His balls slapped at my bottom as he jerked- slap-smack of flesh, the creaking of the bed. I answered him by raising up my legs and wound them tight about his waist. Our breathing sounded coarsely. Thrice I wet his balls. I would not speak, though, any more, would not. I was both witness and participant-lay under him and yet gazed at the same time down at both of us, the twitching of his buttocks, the slow gliding of his cock, his balls that gently slapped against my bottom's cleft. I looked amazed at what I saw-knew myself to be cloaked both in sin and at the same time in the freedom of delight. One wrestles endlessly with both, yet reaches out a weak hand to the latter all the time.
'Coming!', I heard him choke and squeezed the tighter on his pulsing tool.
How simple are the acts of love, yet how we clothe them in complexity by thinking all about and here and there as to what we should do and should not!
I would soon as listen to the 'shoulds' as to the 'nots'.
