being left alone with us that evening while the more closely related trio went to dinner.
“What a strange boy he is-how he adores his mother,” my stepmother remarked to her when they had gone. “He is not a boy but a man,” Jennifer answered, yet her eyes looked troubled.
“A boy at heart, my dear, as we within ourselves are still girls. At school, I do recall, there was as much kissing between girls as between boys and girls. I have ever thought it nice so to be. Have not you?”
A pretty colour came into Jennifer’s face. She made seemingly to reply while I tumbled down as though casually beside her on a chaise-lounge.
“I do not know,” she said thickly.
“Oh, but I think it’s nice,” said I quite bubblingly whereat my stepmother laughed and said, “That is because you want to kiss her, you little minx.”
Jennifer said “Oh!” in surprise and turned to face me. Her lustrous full lips, short aquiline nose, large eyes and flawless skin all attracted me. “What?” she responded in soft surprise while I flung my arms about her neck in girlish and impetuous fashion so that before she knew it our mouths met and merged in the most intoxicating fashion. I felt her shift uneasily despite that. She would have stirred, perhaps sought to break the embrace had my stepmother not then sat down on the other side of her, pushing her shoulders back against the wall and saying in a merry tone, “How sweet to see you both kissing!”
At that I think Jennifer grew embarrassed at such open display and raised her hands, though weakly, to fend me off. My tongue, entering her mouth, had found her own and was there wantonly indulging itself. A gurgle escaped her and the pressure of her hands weakened, my stepmother settling matters by drawing her sideways and shifting her own body so that the bemused but already partly excited young woman found herself lying prone. Perched on the edge of the long, brocaded seat at her side, my stepmother pressed upon her shoulders with a deliberation that she must have felt for she strove to rise but was impeded.
I, kneeling over her then, gazed down at her flushed face lovingly. “Jennifer, let me tongue you,” I murmured, to which she replied a startled, “WHA-AAART?” and cried, “Oh, let me up!”
“She wishes to tongue you,” my stepmother said as though explaining something to a child. “Let her.”
“Oh! B… b… b…!” Jennifer stammered madly, but already her dress was being raised. Beneath as I had suspected were two of the most elegant legs I had ever seen, swelling up from well-turned calves and dimpled knees to lustrous thighs that gleamed above her stocking tops. Rosetted garters clasped the sheened silk tight. A cry escaped her and she wriggled but was held.
“Clara will tongue you-be still!” she was commanded and with that my stepmother scooped one arm beneath her knees and drew them up so high that they all but touched her tummy. At the same time she held her chin in quite a forceful manner with her other hand-a trick I was to learn, for it holds the “victim” helpless, though I did not wish her so, nor my stepmother.
The posture, with her legs drawn high, exposed her completely and in a trice while she squealed and tried to bump her bottom all about, her drawers were loosed and with some quick fumblings on our part, pulled down. Ah, what a treasure came then to my eyes! Her bush was neither sparse nor thick but perfect in its texture, forming a delightful triangle upon her Venus mount. Between the curls and tendrils of stray hair her cunny peeped, its lips quite small-delicious to the tongue.
“WHOO-WHOOOO!” the first cry, as though of amazed pleasure, rang from her as I protruded my tongue and roamed it all about the succulent dell. Her legs kicked, drummed on my back and then were still. I flickered in my tongue and licked, my nostrils tickled by her downy curls. She moaned, hips twisting, then I sought her spot-the little rosebud of desire. How quickly it perked up! A trilling sound escaped her throat. Her muskiness and feminine odours flooded my face with the warmth of love.
“THEEE-OOOH! No! NAH! Not there!”
My fingertip had sought and touched her rosette which she evidently would defend. I roamed the tip around the puckered rip and dipped it in while twirling then my tongue. Another cry escaped her and her hips churned.
“DOH-DOH-DOH-DON’T!” she moaned, but all was too late. Holding her chin still and taking her slumbrous mouth, my stepmother began kissing her despite her seeming sobs of wilfulness. Her tongue sought to retreat, as I afterwards learned, but the passion of the moment was already overcoming her. Feeling the gentle lowering of her legs, I let them rest upon my shoulders and bore their weight gladly in my ministrations to her pleasure. I had worked the first joint of my finger by now into her bottom hole, making her squirm fretfully, yet her emotions betrayed her for no sooner was she thus plugged and my finger and tongue working in unison than she sprayed my mouth and chin with salty bliss.
To my great pleasure her tight warm bottom then began to work up and down as though urging me on. I circled my tongue around her risen bud and heard her throbbing moans as I did the succulent sounds of their tongues and lips. Again her belly shimmered and again she came. Twice more did her tribute inundate my lapping tongue and then with face besmirched by her sweet outpourings I let her legs glide down and rest upon the seat, there lying splayed.
“How she came!” I murmured-my stepmother straightening then while Jennifer lay inert, only the faint quivers in her pale belly betraying the echoes of her pleasure.
“How wondrously she must take the manly shaft,” came the reply, whereat she stroked the young woman’s face and moved damp tendrils of hair from her smooth forehead. “What a pity her husband is such a weakling, yet he can be further trained, I suppose.”
At this, Jennifer sat up with a sigh and put her back to the wall. “What do you mean?” she murmured, yet almost as though to herself.
“His Mama nurtures him-did you not know?” my stepmother asked inconsequentially.
“N… n… nurtures? What?” Her half-closed eyes opened. “I do not know what you mean! What do you mean?”
“His cock was well brought up this afternoon while you were out, my pet. Was it not, Clara-and dare his dear Mama deny it now?”
“By you? OH! Pray give me my drawers.” Her hand waved weakly and then fell.
“We were not the final instruments of his pleasure, Jennifer, nor would lie to you upon the matter. His Mama milked him of his sperm while he, poor weakling, suffered her frigging, his eyes all wild and lured by dreams of lust. Are not men ever so?”
“I do not believe you! Oh, it could not be so!”
“I believe you know it is so, though have not utterly confessed it to yourself nor made images in your mind of the matter. How often does he thread you in bed? Once weekly? Once a month? Is he shy? Is your hand needed to stir him to erection?”
“He is shy. Oh, why do you ask? What conversation you have got me into! Please may I not put on my drawers?”
“You are too proud to say how well you have been pleasured. That is the truth of it. As to putting on your drawers, you will need them less about your bottom than you have been used to. Opportunities have passed you by, but shall not in future. I ask you once again-how often does he take you?”
“You seem to have the knowing of it already,” Jennifer replied sulkily and then burst out, “Oh, why should his Mama do such a wicked thing? Is is true, Clara? Tell me it is not?”
“My foolish, beautiful one, it is. Nor was it horrid to see as you might think. Made to stand-and in such pretty finery as she has put him in before-he held his legs apart. They were not face to face and neither did she raise her dress or show her bosom even to his gaze. Is that not so, Mama?”
“It is, my pet. The young man has his whims and she has hers. Until your marriage, my dear, she spermed him regularly and thus kept him tamed, quiescent, as all males should be. As to your father-in-law, Jennifer, that is another kettle of fish. Have his hands not sought around the proud bulb of your bottom-touched your tits?”
“How do you…? Oh! I am shamed!”
“Do you not like it?” I moved to sit beside her, touched her arm, and wore an air of great naпvetй.
“It is h… h… hateful! Yes, he does. Would feel right in my drawers were I to let him.”
“Jennifer, we must speak more plainly. Truthfulness becomes us on both sides, for matters now will change.” Thus saying, my stepmother sat before her on the floor. Jennifer’s legs being still bared, she pressed her lips to her thigh most tenderly and made her start. Seeing her lips linger and her tongue extending around the rich rim of flesh above her stocking top, I drew Jennifer’s lips around to mine and felt to my surprise a softness greater than before.
