“You have no need to be. Remember what I have told you, Robert. You have but to obey me and all will be well. Do you not wish to obey me now?”
He bit his lip. I could have sworn that tears sparkled in his eyes. Bereft of speech, he nodded, though the movement of his head was constrained by her touch.
“Robert-answer me!” Her voice was level but sharp, her bosom rising and falling visibly beneath her grey and white gown that gave full prominence to her breasts and allowed their upper, milky surfaces to be seen in all their swelling glory.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice thick.
“I beg your pardon, Robert?” Again her steely tone.
“Y… y… yes, Mama,” he croaked and again a thrilling sensation ran through my veins.
“That is better,” she purred. “You must give constant thought to everything I tell you, for you will be guided and instructed now by none but me. Do you wish to pay penance now?”
Robert’s face suffused, his hands trembled, for in that moment I distinctly saw our stepmother’s forefinger extend itself where her hand lay on his thigh so that it passed just once over his genitals. A sound that could only imply assent came from his throat. At that she stood up in such a position that she was facing me and no more than eight feet from the small opening through which I peered. It seemed then that all heaven waited for what was to occur next.
Robert rose in turn, his shoulders bowed. First he removed his jacket and, while she stood supremely silent and upright with her feet placed apart, he folded it and placed it on the bed. He was shaking, as I could see. I thought perhaps that she was to cane him, and yet her posture did not indicate it, for the back of her legs were close to the edge of the bed and she gave no hint of moving.
“Down, Robert,” she then intoned and he moved as might a puppet, with a shaky stiffness in his limbs.
There, before my astonished eyes, he stood before her, head bowed, and then sank slowly to his knees so that his forehead all but touched her skirt. Gazing directly at me then, she smiled a little and-raising her skirts to just above her knees where her black stockings glistened-threw them right over Robert’s head so that he was enveloped as within a tent.
“Now,” she commanded.
Eyes glazed, I saw a movement of his knees and back that betokened that he had moved further into her. Indeed, her eyes half closed and her lovely mouth for a moment assumed a petulant look. I knew then that Robert’s face was pressed against the most intimate part of her person, only a small part of his calves, his ankles and feet showing where the broad skirt had cascaded down over him. Her legs being well apart, she held them thus for a moment and then to a muffled groan from my brother she clipped them quickly together so that his head was tightly gripped between her thighs. Her hand then moved down to where the bulge of the back of his head just showed and she pressed upon it, not gently but demandingly, bringing a snort from him.
Dumbstruck, I could not really conceive what was happening save that our stepmother looked glorious and victorious in her stance, her hand held firm to him and her shoulders back, her face slightly flushed and lifted. Her hips moved a little and then stayed themselves. Once more came a groan from Robert, for evidently her thighs had tightened against his ears and I could well imagine the ruffled rims of her garters there.
Suddenly she jerked. “Ah! not your tongue, you little beast! I shall whip you, Robert, for that. Keep your mouth open, and your tongue well hid.”
Then did both her hands clamp themselves against the back of his head, her legs parted anew and she threw her head back, a look of perfect pleasure on her face. I could hear faintly the gasping of my brother’s breath. A full minute passed and then another. Stepmama’s beauteous expression looked soft and fulfilled, I of course being quite dazed but not a little stirred and excited by this strange, strange event. Then with sudden decision she flipped up her skirt from over him, stepped back and immediately let it cascade down to her ankles while the red face of my brother-or rather in the first instance his flushed neck-came into view.
“Up!” she commanded him and, trembling more than ever, he staggered to his feet, whereat she took his shoulders and spun him around so that he stood in profile to me.
I could not help but let my eyes seek where I knew they were to do so and saw immediately the considerable hump in his trousers. Thereupon, our stepmother passed her hand lightly over it, standing as she was face on to his left shoulder. He gurgled, started and stared straight at her door.
“Show me, Robert. Show Mama,” she said quietly. Robert’s hands moved. With shaking fingers he prised open his buttons one by one, I holding my breath as each was loosed. Finding him too slow, she gave an impatient tug at his shirt just above the waistband of his trousers which seemed to act like some sort of trigger or release, for then out sprang his cock in full erection, the crest positively glowing with pride and I drinking in every inch of the fleshy stem.
“Good,” my stepmother said quietly. Poor sweet Robert, I could see his legs shaking still and his face high flushed. A gasp escaped him and his head quivered as in ague, for her fingers then ringed it lightly, ran up and down the throbbing stem and released it so that it quivered its pleading to the empty air. His face was sheened with perspiration still and his brow positively glistening.
“You like the scent of me, do you not, Robert?” she asked, and he nodded.
“And the taste of me?” This time she laughed, but not cruelly. So saying, she grasped his stiff weapon tightly and then again let it go.
“Y… y… yes, Mama.”
“One day, Robert, if you are very good and obedient, I may remove my drawers for your exercises. Would you like that? No, do not answer, for I know your rising lust. How wicked you are and how you must be punished for it!”
A rippling laugh escaped her and however bizarre the situation was I could not help but feel a thrill of deep affection at the sound. Her eyes met mine again deliberately through the crack between the door and the frame and a little smile as of pride and pleasure wisped over her ruby lips.
“Now show me your balls, Robert.”
At that he pushed a little frantically at his trousers, let them slide down and was so uncovered to just above his knees where they crumpled and hung. His shirt being tucked up, I could now see all. His testicles hung like two rich plums close beneath the root of his erection which seemed to me not lewd but beautiful to see with its mingled white and pinky colour and the rubicond head from which his foreskin was drawn tightly back.
“Has Sarah seen it?” she asked and made him quiver terribly as she passed alluring fingers underneath his balls.
“N… n… no,” he stuttered.
“You are well hung, Robert, for your age. Be mindful that your prick rises well when you think of me, but do not play with yourself nor make yourself come for your shirts and sheets and kerchiefs are ever being examined and my wrath will truly fail upon you should you disobey. Guard your liquid treasures, Robert, for such moments as I ordain and I will judge you a good boy. Have you a question to ask? You are permitted one, as I told you in the summerhouse of late.”
The summerhouse! Had she meant to say it or was it a slip of the tongue? I recalled now her strolling there once or twice with him but had thought nothing of it, thinking her presence with him but a maternal one. Now perhaps I knew that its walls held secrets that I longed to know.
“M… m… may I k… k… kiss you, Mama?” stammered he, though not daring to turn his head but facing ever forward.
“What a request! With your naughty prick up and your balls out? What would the world think of me? Would you have me raise my skirts while you do it and press my thighs to yours? Well?”
“N… n… no.”
I felt truly sorry for him. His expression was utterly forlorn, yet at the same time I was seized by a feeling that his behaviour was at least unmanly. There was no tie of blood between them and despite the disparity in their ages he might well in the circumstances have risked a kiss, even though it meant a caning. So my befuddled thoughts ran. I both loved him and yet felt a distant contempt for him which, had I but known it, was exactly the concoction of emotions that she wished to engender in me.
“You bad boy,” our stepmother said softly and then, placing one hand beneath his bare buttocks so that her forefinger distinctly moved between them, took light hold on his straining penis and frotted it gently, causing his mouth to gape and a low moaning sound to issue from him.
