buttons. All of them undone. His tool comes out. His cods. His swollen apparatus fully displayed. I fondle him as I peer through the slit again. Walter trembles in my hand as I gaze at Edward and Julie. I hold Walter's balls in my hand as I gaze at my husband and my sister.
Edward lies upon his back now. Julie bends over him. Her breasts hang. She has him in her mouth. She has his penis between her lips. How hungry she is. How gluttonous she is as she sucks at his knob.
She teases him. She pulls her mouth away. She laughs. We can hear it. We can hear the laughter, the words.
“You shouldn't have kissed me yesterday.”
Edward groans. “Where?”
“In the drawing room, silly. You kissed me in the drawing room and one of the maids almost noticed.”
“Don't stop.”
“My hand?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers stroke his tool. He seems so totally taken with her, so totally helpless. She watches him. She looks at his face, then she looks at his penis in her hand. She laughs as she fondles his balls. She turns in her bending. Edward gazes at her bottom. Walter and I gaze at her bottom. My sister has a glorious bottom.
Then she unhands him. She stretches out beside him and raises her knees. “You're quite ready, darling.”
Edward groans. “Yes.”
He mounts her. Her thighs are raised and the joining is hidden. Her breasts jiggle as he moves. She tosses her legs. Walter and I have them in profile and all that one can see is Edward's muscular bottom pumping up and down. Then suddenly he pulls out and he mutters something at her. Julie laughs and rolls over onto her belly. She raises her body, kneels before him with her bottom lifted. He enters quickly. This time we see the sliding of it, his thick tool pushing inside her sex. She groans. She wiggles her bottom as he pokes her. I hold Walter's affair in my hand. I can see how Julie grips Edward. I can see the fat lips of my sister's quim as she grips my husband.
“Edward, darling…”
“It's lovely.”
“You can finish in my bottom if you like.”
He laughs. “Good Lord, yes!”
His tool is withdrawn. He holds it in his hand, points it at the new target. Julie makes a sound of pleasure as he pushes in. Her bottom-hole. With a steady sliding, Edward enters her bottom-hole. They both groan. Julie wiggles. Edward moves more forcefully. Walter gasps beside me. His crisis is upon him. How amusing. How helpless he is as he spends. My fingers working in the milking. Pity the papered wall. The curlicues in the paper are so awful to the eyes.
The first time anything happened with John we were at a large dinner party in a castle in Newbridge. Edward and I had gone up to Oxford to visit Julie and John, and then somehow we all moved on to become weekend guests of a certain Lady Masham. She was a dotty old thing with a great deal of money and a paucity of brains, but she did have a splendid estate and a fondness for happy weekends. After the first dinner, I walked with John in the gardens. This was the first chance I'd had to be completely alone with my sister's husband. I took his arm. I told him how nice it was to be away from all the chatter at dinner. “I don't like crowds.”
He patted my hand. “Then you're not like Julie.”
“She's the prettier one, isn't she?”
“What?”
“I said Julie is the prettier one.”
“I find you just as pretty.”
We flirted. His eyes were upon my bare shoulders. He stroked my arm. He seemed surprised that I did not discourage his touching me. I was amused at the way he insistently gazed at my breasts. “You find them interesting?”
“What?”
“My breasts. Of course these are so tiny compared to Julie's. Not at all substantial.” I pulled at the front of my gown to show my nipples, to show the long points.
He flushed. “Good Lord, Claire…”
“You don't approve? I think my nipples, at least, are pretty.”
He mumbled, “Exquisite.”
“Kiss me.”
“He kissed my lips. He pressed against me. I allowed my belly to rub against the front of his trousers. His excitement was apparent. A conquest. How easy it is when the moment is ripe.
When our lips parted, he touched the front of my gown. He found a nipple and pinched it through the silk. He found the other nipple and did the same. “Superb.”
“You're my sister's husband.”
“Yes.”
A simple statement of fact. He seemed so capable. I was envious of Julie. I remembered the two of them frolicking in the wood in Surrey. I imagined him sailing in his balloon. How amusing it was to have him touch my nipples. My long points. Nature has awarded me a certain recompense for the lack of rondeur.
After that evening, John and I shared our little secret. In London again, I kept him at bay. He pressed for a rendezvous. One day when we were alone, he insisted it was impossible to wait. “You can't put me off any longer. I don't believe you want to. We must meet somewhere.”
I teased him. “I thought you were a patient man.”
“But a man at his limit.”
At his limit, indeed. I imagined his limit. I pictured the length and breadth of it. I hadn't seen much of it in Surrey. One wants the knowledge, the touching, the weight of a man's balls upon one's fingers.
I agreed to a rendezvous. We met one afternoon in a teashop. We drove in a carriage in St. James's Park. He kissed me. “I think of you constantly.”
I laughed. “Immoral thoughts.”
“Quite immoral.”
“We mustn't drive too long. I'm expected at home in a quarter hour.”
“But I thought…”
“Today?”
“Lord, yes!”
“John, it's not possible.”
“You put me in a frenzy.”
How quaint he was. I kissed his cheek. I touched him. I touched the bulging of it. I had to see. He groaned as I undid his buttons. Too many buttons. His tool came out long and thick in my hand. Formidable. Then his balls. His hairy cods bulged out of the opening in his trousers. He gasped as I tickled his balls. The carriage was closed. No one on the walk could see us. The driver was oblivious.
John shuddered. “It's unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable?”
“We ought to be in a room somewhere.”
“Not this? Don't you like to be stroked? Yes, you do like it. Certainly His Eminence likes it. Look how strong he is.”
Impressively strong. What a lovely thick tool. He groaned as I stroked him. I had such fun with it. The heat of it. His throbbing in my hand as I pulled the cowl back and forth over his knob. Then a firmer grip as I lengthened the stroking. He was sensible enough to offer his handkerchief. Then a moment later he made a noise in his throat. A yielding cry as he spouted. A cry of complete submission.
We met again briefly a week later, once again in a carriage. He said it was imperative that I go with him to a room he had. I refused. “Don't you love Julie?”
“I love Julie as much as you love Edward.”
