They rode on horseback, as usual, with their attendants and men at arms-for the highway could be a dangerous spot, particularly toward nightfall-strung out around them. They were both excellent horsemen. Giuffredo, who was almost two years younger than his sister, had shown particular promise almost the first time he was put on a horse some years previously. The horse had, for some reason, suddenly and unexpectedly bolted from under the eyes of the lad's teachers, but he had clung grimly on with his young, sturdy arms and, white as death, but determined, had still been seated when the horse was overtaken at the end of a furious five-minute chase.
Like his brother and sister, he looked older than his years and his body had been strengthened with continual exercise in archery, wrestling and swimming. His character was already taking a determined turn which brought him the respect of those elders who came into close contact with him.
He glanced over at his sister. He was very proud of her and her beauty and he hoped she would soon be tired so that he could take her in front of him on his own horse as was their established custom. Nothing made him feel more male and protective than to know that his sister was tired and dependent on him while he manfully guided their horse forward along the trail.
Lucrezia glanced back at him and smiled. He was rather like Cesare though his nose was slightly retrousse and his hair had faint tints of red in it. She had found, during the journey, that her thoughts, so much centered now on the sexual events of the past few days, wandered to Giuffredo and imagined what it would be like with him. Of course he was younger. But he was always so masculine that she was sure he'd be quite commanding if led. She rubbed her crotch along her saddle. The soreness had almost disappeared, but its traces left the strongly intangible memory of Cesare and her father, both with part of their bodies actually inside her body, crushing wetly, deliciously into her. The memory made her feel suddenly chill in her belly and she pressed down hard on the rough saddle.
It was dusk before she changed over to Giuffredo's horse. It always happened the same way; eventually she felt she couldn't keep her shoulders from sagging forward and her neck began to ache.
The lieutenant of the guard respectfully helped her up in front of her brother and then ordered his men to light the lanterns they carried.
The procession continued, slowly, with the lanterns throwing long, vague shadows on the road and dimly showing up the faces of the riders, glinting on the swords of the men-at-arms.
Lucrezia arranged her long, loose skirt around her. She still wore no underclothes but for her petticoats and she felt the cold leather of the saddle against her genitals with a shock of pleasure. She leaned back against Giuffredo, who put one arm protectively around her waist, guiding the horse with the other. Around them was the clip-clop of the horses, the shadows of the long barrows made weird and stark by the lantern-light. None of the attendants or the guards chatted around them-they were too tired after the day's ride. The procession had a slow, clip-clopping rhythm of its own which seemed to be lulling everyone to the brink of sleep.
Lucrezia's thighs slipped gently against the saddle. The movement of the horse jogged her in a gentle rise and fall. Once again, unconcerned now with the guidance of a horse, she let her thoughts dwell on the events of the past days. In cold blood she could hardly imagine herself prostrated in front of her father while from behind her, unseen, he screwed her with his unbearably big weapon. She wondered what she looked like to him in that position. The thought of herself stretched out with all her openings spread out before his eyes gave her a delicious little thrill of horror. She thought of his prick. How big it had been. How could it have gone in her? All of it! But how wonderful it had finally been!
Her crotch slipped on the saddle, bringing her back to the present. She was getting wet again with the thought. Now that she knew exactly what she longed for, knew the sight and feel of it, she felt she needed it every time her thoughts strayed in a sexy direction.
Up and down she jogged on the saddle. She wriggled her bottom slightly against it on the downward movement. Her breath was a series of small sighs in her throat as she leaned against Giuffredo. His presence and her feelings combined to make him seem the object of her desire. If only they were alone, she'd make him leap down from the horse and fuck her in the field alongside. She wondered if he'd ever done it and came to the conclusion it was out of the question. He was simply too young and they spent most of their time together.
Back and forth, up and down. She squirmed on the hard leather, flattening the slim wedges of her sex against it. There was really very little separating her from Giuffredo, she thought: just her tucked up skirt lying across the horse's back between them and his thin hose. His boyish prick was so close to her. She could actually feel the pressure of his legs against hers where he sat behind her on the same saddle. If only they could do it now.
She pushed her bottom back against his loins. She could feel the pressure of his body down there against the voluminous folds of her skirt; his free hand was still around her waist, her head against his shoulder.
Gently she edged her hips right back along the saddle, straightening her body imperceptibly, so that her bottom was tight against his loins. She held her breath and let the horse's movement jog her behind against his loins. With every pace forward, her buttocks crushed back against the point where his penis was hidden by his tight hose.
The main trouble, she realized, after a few minutes-in which her face became hotter and hotter and her vagina felt as if it were weeping-was that she couldn't feel what effect she was having on Giuffredo; the folds of cloth between them were too many.
She reached behind her, as if simply to arrange her skirt, and deftly drew it up a little above the point where her buttocks rose above the saddle. At the same time, she pushed her hips back again so that her naked flesh was in contact with the thin cloth of her brother's hose.
As she did so-and totally accidentally-her hand brushed against his loins and she knew what the effect had been. She had felt a small, but very definite bulge.
My sweet young brother, she thought. You're beginning to feel how nice it would be to possess your sister.
They jogged for a while and then Giuffredo pushed out his thighs along the horse so that Lucrezia was virtually sitting in his lap, with the point of his bulge pressed against the slit of her buttocks. Her skirt draped over them, falling over his legs quite naturally, so that their point of contact was quite hidden.
Now with every movement of the horse, her buttocks crushed back around the bulge in his hose, rubbing down it with a pressure which sent a spear of delight up Lucrezia's spine.
Giuffredo's hand had tightened on her belly, his arm surrounded her more tightly than it ever had before on their journeys. She felt his chest heaving and pressed hard against her back.
Giuffredo himself wasn't quite sure what was happening. He felt tight and prickly inside, particularly down at his reproductive organ. That was what his tutor called it in his advanced biology lessons. Giuffredo had never quite been able to believe in the process which it was alleged took place. He had never even felt any desire to masturbate, which he understood was a phase some boys got earlier than others. He'd always been rather frightened of the idea-as if something terrible would happen to him if he did.
But now Lucrezia, his beautiful sister of whom he was so proud, was pressing against him in a way which was having a strange and exciting effect on his organ and his whole being. And, what was more, he was certain she was doing it on purpose. She'd deliberately pulled her skirt over his legs and he could feel she had nothing on underneath and her hand had brushed his center of excitement, making it jerk involuntarily against the tight hose he wore and causing him considerable embarrassment.
He felt very strange, almost sick in a pleasant way-if that were possible. And every step the horse made with consequent jog of Lucrezia's bottom against him he felt stranger and sicker.
Guiltily he glanced at the surrounding horsemen. They were dim, unreal figures in the flickering light of the lanterns. They all appeared to be asleep. They could almost have been ghosts, following them, lit up in their own aura of ghostliness.
He closed his eyes. His fingers on the reins were clenched. He closed out everything but the strong rubbing sensation of her bottom on his organ under the skirt as the horse jogged forward. He became aware of his hand on her belly. He could feel the warm, firm arc of her belly under the skirt and the feel of it made him want to explore it with his hands, to feel it naked.
Lucrezia, he noticed, was squirming in a slightly unnatural way on the saddle. She leaned back her head against him so that their faces touched and for the first time in his life the touch excited and embarrassed and delighted him. Her face was warm and her eyes were closed and their bodies were together from the saddle to their heads and the pressure on his loins was making him want to burst through his hose.
Suddenly he felt his sister's hand upon his leg, stroking his thigh-and moving up his thigh, reaching awkwardly
