Caroline E-Book

anonymous

• Herausgeber: Erotic eBooks
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

"Caroline" is the story of an extraordinary and interesting woman, a beautiful, strong and sexually aware woman.
Putting her looks and wit to good use, the young Caroline seduces her friend Harry and his sister Adelaide. Once married to Harry, and living comfortably with him and Adelaide, Caroline enlarges and enlivens their lives by ensnaring a variety of women for an initiation into the rites of love.
“Caroline” is a classic Victorian erotic novel, published in 1890. It contains graphic sexual descriptions and themes.

Leseprobe

Caroline

The Care and Handling of Young Ladies and of Older Beauties in Their Prime

Anonymous

Caroline 1890AnonymousThis ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy.First edition 2014

Chapter One

When I was a child I thought of such lanes as led towards our house, or crossed the countryside around, as ways out of the world into another world. At night I conceived of huge doors closing at the ends of them, of carriages, carts, and hawkers’ barrows waiting for the dawn that they might open up again.

Children entertain such mysteries. I have often thought that the world is more real in childhood than obtains when we are older, for in growing older we cloak the world in thought and make it other than it is. A child will say “I,” and yet it merges its identity with others and so better enjoys the fruitfulness of all. Upon reaching one’s middling years, or long before, there comes a consciousness of conflict in oneself. One wishes to be others and yet not, and is in the very centre of a tug-of-war. So often does one hear another say, “I am not myself today,” or they may say, “I do not like myself - oh, would that I could change!” or again (and most often in the case of women), “Tomorrow I shall be different; I shall be more myself; I shall be better than I am today.”

I - older now - am both myself and yet another whom I do not know. I have gazed at my reflection in mirrors - many mirrors and in different rooms - and wondered at the being who stared back at me and to whom my only relationship, as I felt, was one of wonderment, a sense of being awkwardly disturbed that I had materialised in quite another guise to what I thought, looked how I did not think I looked, hair tousled where I thought it smooth, an alarm of creases faint upon my brow.

Once, in moment of exquisite terror - such terror as is flavoured by the condiments of deep excitement and a quivering in the very soul - I stood before a mirror in my mother’s room, which mirror being on a stand allowed a full length view, and asked myself, “Who am I, then?” So piercing is the question to oneself that my toes curled painfully and I could not bear to meet the blank reflection of my eyes.

Had my mother entered her boudoir then, I believe I might have run to her, though being seventeen I was too old for cuddles. Even so, there were brief occasions when, seemingly for no reason whatever, she would suddenly hug me to her and I would be conscious of the largeness of her breasts and the sweet, melting look in her eyes.

I was more about the house than my father who, when he was not in London on business, would do much shooting and riding. I did not care much for this, but my sisters, Adelaide and Bertha, did and would ride on white stallions which he preferred them to have instead of mares. I knew not why. He taught them to take horse as men do with the saddle in between their legs, my mother objecting and saying it was most unladylike and that she feared our neighbours would see. Often enough in Spring and Summer the three would ride out together after breakfast, not returning until lunchtime, flushed and bright.

Mother would not allow them to take lunch until they had bathed, which they did together to save water and to be quick while father strode about, smoked a cigar and snapped his crop against his legs. I thought my mother of an ill mood at such times, but later I better understood. Bertha was twenty and a strapping girl, rich in her curves and with a sultry lower lip. Adelaide, two years younger, but senior to me by eighteen months, was much the quieter of the pair and slimmer but well-formed. Their splashing together in the bath reminded me always of the sea-sound and the waves that lap upon the beach. They would laugh and splash each other. Mother would call out to them to be quiet. They heeded her, but then would start again. Mother would sigh and say, “I know no end to it.”

Father would take his paper up and read and not reply to her. I thought it rude of him, but adults then were a whole world apart.

Bertha married at the age of twenty-one - not to the pleasure of Papa. He birched her when he heard of her intent, but she grew the more rebellious. Several times at night I heard him go into her room and heard the silky swishing of the birch and Bertha’s cries. Mama would disappear and lock her door when such occurred, sometimes with Adelaide and sometimes not. My younger sister objected and would sometimes have herself let out and take herself, not speaking, to the morning room until Bertha’s cries grew softer. Then would a silence fall that seemed both fearsome and awesome to me.

After Papa at last emerged, Bertha would go to bed and no one would speak to her until the morning. Even then, Mama was still put out with her, though not on account of her intended betrothal, so I felt.

Adelaide took a suitor not long after. “A weed of a man,” I heard Papa call him - speaking to Mama. He did not birch her, though, and still they took their rides together. When Bertha visited, Papa would not receive her husband but would speak with her only in his room where she would stay for half an hour or so and come down all a-bubble, for her birching days were done.

Bertha and Adelaide remained very close after their marriages, but that period between them did not last for long. Several months following Adelaide’s wedding, Bertha was transported with her husband to India where he joined his regiment. “Our salad days are over.” Mama said, and wept a little. Adelaide was quieter and did not often visit us. My mother worried and, one morning, asked me to go and see her and to take a basket to her of cakes and such.

I did not want to go, fair as the morning was. It was a long ride, I said, and the basket would be difficult to carry.

“Take the pony cart, Harry, and do not be lazy,” Mama said.

I kicked about the house, but then decided that I ought to go or would hear nothing else all day. From cook I took the basket and some beer to refresh myself on route. I preferred it then to wine but have no taste for it nowadays.

It had been a month since I had seen my sister. There was a fondness between us that always was restrained - I believe because Papa was watchful of our ways. The journey took two hours. I loitered on the way, had oysters at an inn and passed the border into Kent at noon. I thought of my doors of childhood as I rode the lanes and almost wished to be a child again, though out of boredom rather than desire.

The house had a blank look as I took the driveway to it - that blank look that lonely country houses often have when the sun sheens the windows and makes them glitter white, or gives a dullness to the glass. A gardener doffed his hat to me and stirred his fork along a border where some rhododendrons showed their thick, plump growth.

The maid who let me in was thin and pale as if the sunlight always skirted her. Mistress was lying down, she said, but Miss Caroline would receive me in the drawing room.

I wished to ask who Miss Caroline was, but one does not ask an unknown servant that. The etiquette on such a matter being strange, and I no expert at such things, said I would announce myself, put my hat and basket down and went straight in.

Ah, what a vision rose to greet me as I parted the waves of the two doors! I saw the most exquisite creature, scarce more than my own age and dressed in white and pink, a ribbon in her nut brown hair that tressed her shoulders in long waves. Her nose was small and straight, her eyes were huge. I remember noticing immediately how small her waist was and how svelte her hips - how prominent her breasts were for her years, how lovely were her lips.

We were soon introduced. Without staider adults present, it is always easier.

“Adelaide is well?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, indeed - that is to say... Harry, I must speak with you - strangers as we are, you will not mind? May we have wine? I am more the visitor than you,” she smiled and swept her skirt behind her legs and sat.

“Of course, of course.” I almost stammered in my haste and rang the bell and gave my lordly orders. In a moment we were sipping at our glasses and my eyes were lost in hers.

“I do not know how to...” Caroline began. I asked if I should go upstairs to Adelaide. Not yet, she said, twisted her glass this way and that and finally let out a sigh. “If Bertha - forgive me, Harry - were here, she could be told. It is easier to tell a woman than a man. Adelaide is well in body - is not ill, I mean - but so depressed I know not how to comfort her.”

“You may tell me. Can you not tell me?” I touched her finger with my own, at which she smiled an angel smile.

“If I do not look at you, Harry - and you must forgive me if I do not - and if I say it quickly... Well... Her husband has not touched her ever. That is the truth of it. Please will you fill my glass again? I feel so embarrassed to have said, yet you are of her family, are you not?”

I could not rise quickly enough to do her bidding, but in my haste spilled a little on her skirt and blushed and stammered out apologies, rubbed with my hanky, felt her thigh beneath.

“Do not worry. I can change my dress. I brought my things, you see. Her husband has been gone this past week on some business. Never has he kissed her even on the mouth, you know!”

“Go on,” I said. I took my seat beside her on the sofa which itself was strange, for normally I would have taken, out of politeness, a slightly distant chair.

Caroline bit her lip - looked both amused and shy. “What you will think of me, I do not know, to speak like this,” she murmured. Daringly I took her hand, so warm, so slender and so finely boned, yet sensed a strength in it as well.

“Whatever you say it will be as if heaven itself had uttered words,” I said.

“Oh, Harry, really? Well, I told you, did I not. I mean he does not, never, not in bed or... Can you understand? I swear that in this moment she would receive no one but you. Will you not comfort her and put your arms about her? That is what she needs. A moment only. I, a mere woman, cannot provide the manly comfort of a male. A moment of repose, a few kind words perhaps to praise her - that is what she needs. Say that you will.”

Ah glory, how her fingers tightened into mine! Such a look of sweet beseeching in her face! Our faces neared each others, then drew back as if we both had called upon a kiss but feared to take it then and there.

“I will do anything for you, Caroline!”

“Oh! Is that a promise? We shall see! Carry out your duty, Harry, and I will consider that. I may even call you to my own aide, too, and even before I’m married. Do your duty by her - that is all I ask. Come - I will take you up to her. She is so quiet. I want to bring her spirits back.”

“Of course - yes.”

Even then I did not comprehend the devilment in her - what was to be. Adelaide I had always thought of, I suppose, as pure. As we reached the landing, Caroline drew me in a corner and motioned me to be quiet. I saw upstairs, beyond, and through the banisters, the half open door of Adelaide’s boudoir.

“Will you kiss her Harry?” came her whisper. We were then so close that I could feel the hard melons of her tits against my coat. “Like this?” she asked before I could reply, then tilted up her face and sleeked her tongue within my mouth and moved her sultry lips all over mine so that with a dizziness I clutched her tight and made her thighs to press against my own. Indeed, so delicious, so bizarre, was the moment - and one of such ecstasy as I had never known before - that my cock rose on the instant and pressed against her belly, and she felt it there, while the absurd thought struck me that Adelaide might have disappeared and that Caroline was in her place.

“Yes,” I gasped, though kept my own voice to a whisper, too. Her tongue moved then again. I all but swooned, so luscious, moist and peachlike was her mouth.

“Promise - for this is what she needs,” she said. I felt her tummy move against my prick and saw the pleased light in her eyes that she had brought me up so quick.

I could not speak, I knew not what to say, but blurted of a sudden, “Yes, but if...”

“Caroline - who is that?” my sister called. I started back, but my young queen held my hand.

“It is Harry, darling. Are you feeling better now? May we come in?” All this said in a rush and before I knew it I was turned about, taken up the next short flight and drawn into the bedroom.

“Harry? Oh, it’s really you!” Adelaide lay underneath a sheet. The other bedclothes were pulled down. Her drawers, chemise, her shoes, her gown, lay on the floor close to the end of the bed. The sheet was drawn up to her chin. Conscious of my straining prick that bid to burst my trouser cloth, I knew not how to stand.

“Darling, what a blessing he has come! May he not kiss you? Let him, do.” At that Caroline gave me a nudge. My knees banged at the bed and I half fell, clutched at a pillow and leaned over Adelaide.

“Harry?” Her voice was both bemused and soft. I knew not anything to equal such a moment - knew not what to do nor how to act.

“Are you all right?” I asked. My bending posture hid my rampant cock.

“Yes. Kiss me if you will.” Her arm came up and looped about my neck. I brought my face down to her own and kissed her nose and then her cheek.

“I will fetch wine,” said Caroline and then was gone.

“Has she told you? Lie beside me, do. Kick your shoes off or they will spoil the sheet,” Adelaide murmured and her head sank down, her arm released from round my neck as if she were too weak to hold.

“Dear Adelaide, what is it?” Foolishly I asked, untying both my laces.

“Take your jacket off. The buttons else will rub me. Do lie down. Has she not told you, Harry, told you all?”

Uneasily and yet with wonder then I slid beside her. Through the sheet I saw the upward rising of her breasts - how the white cotton flowed, delineating belly, hips, the junction of her thighs.

“Yes,” I said. I felt a breathlessness. My chest was tight. Her head came to my shoulder, rested there. She took my arm and brought it over her waist.

“It is bad of him, Harry, is it not? Kiss me at least. I need such comforting.”

“Of course.” I moved my mouth too awkwardly to hers. Her lips parted at the meeting of our mouths. In that moment of sweet warmth and succulence I could scarcely tell whether it were she or Caroline, but then she twisted her face away, flushed not a little and stared at the window.

“Harry, you have never kissed me before - properly. Did you not want to?” she murmured. Still she would not look at me. I choked on a reply that had no words. Again her face turned to mine, her lips apart. Tip of pink tongue I saw and small, white teeth. Her nostrils pinched. She had a strained and passionate look.

“Do it properly - I feel forlorn,” she whispered, but at that moment Caroline returned, bearing a tray, the glasses tinkling on the silver plate.

“Wine before kisses - it will make them taste the better afterward,” she laughed. I sat up guiltily. My sister clasped my hand, my knuckles pressed to her warm hip. I felt a desperation in her touch, perhaps excitement, but I did not know.

“Adelaide, sit up. Your wine will spill,” Caroline said and extended first a glass to her.

“I can’t. He’ll see me,” Adelaide replied, but even so she sat up, clasping the sheet up to her chin. Her back was bare. I saw the small, tight, polished globe of her bottom splurging on the sheet and felt a quiver in my stiffened prick. She took the glass and pressed it to her chin. A smile passed between the pair and then was gone.

Caroline sat opposite, upon the other side, with Adelaide between us, perky in her posture, sitting up.

“Oh, what’s to that?” said Caroline, “It does not matter. Has he not seen your breasts before?”

“Of course he hasn’t - no,” my sister said, then uttered a small shriek as Caroline swiftly grabbed the upheld sheet and ripped it down. I saw the sleek pale of her belly and her navels whorl. Another inch - a further shriek - and Adelaide’s pubic bush was displayed, curls crisp and tight, and in her jerking drops of wine had fallen in the thicket there. “Oh, please! No, Caroline!” Adelaide exclaimed, but the sheet was gripped. She could not draw it up again. Her tits were melons, jutting and snow-white, crowned with brown berries.

“Drink your wine. And you, too, Harry. Hurry now!”

“Oh, Harry, she is such a naughty thing, she... ow!” my sister squealed, for even in the instant that she finished off her glass at one quick gulp so Caroline bore her down, took the glass away from her and let it roll away beneath her feet.

“He has not kissed you properly ever - has he?” Caroline demanded.

“Stop it, do!” squeaked Adelaide, but showed no strength to struggle or get up, head dented in the pillow and her nipples up. Caroline’s right hand but rested on her shoulder and was light.

“Kiss her, Harry, on the mouth, for I have somewhere else to kiss - where wine has spilled,” laughed Caroline. So speaking she dipped her face right down and brought her open mouth upon my sister’s bush, the warmth, the springiness of curls, soft shimmering of skin upon her belly’s gentle curve.

“Ha... Ha... Ha... Harry!” Adelaide moaned out - and then my lips were deep into her own, my cock a-throbbing up against her hip.

Chapter Two

Often I cried for things, as children do, when I was young - younger by ten years and more than on that afternoon when I lay down with Adelaide and Caroline.

In my growing, so I changed. A moodiness would come upon me often. At mornings I would sit upon the lawn and pick at grass or gaze between the border-shrubs and wonder at the mystery of the small spaces in between the plants where the earth was darker, drier, than the rest, and peopled with a curious enchantment, as I thought, by reason of its solitude, its utter quiet. Leaves rustle, stir. The earth does not. It waits for that which is to be - the iron claws of the rake, or petals falling on its silent crust.

Mother would not come out until Bertha, Adelaide and Papa had ridden off, my sisters’ bottoms perched like ripe plums on their saddles.

“What are you doing, Harry?” she would ask. Mothers ask the same things always of their children, young or old. It has long been my belief that all mothers have a secret book, replete with phrases, that they pass to one another and the which no man has ever seen. Thus, frequently upon my entering the house, my mother would look outwards to the hall - look straight at me - and ask, “Is that you, Harry?” even though she saw me clear. I have known other mothers say and do the same. Their phrases are identical - the intonations all the same.

Or, seeing me in a mood of sullenness that I did not even wish to have, she would ask, “What is it that you want?” and I forever saying that I did not know.

“That, then, is to the good. Beware of what you want, for you might get it,” Mama would reply. I did not know the sense of that, but later learned it, to my cost. My pleasure also, I would add. One must not be a hypocrite.

In that first moment, on that afternoon, I knew only the inexpressible delight of having Adelaide near-naked under me and I attending to her mouth while Caroline licked slowly at her quim.

My hands cupped Adelaide’s face. For a few seconds she had fretted her hips. I had felt her do so in between our heady kisses, heard a slap and swallowed down her squeal. Caroline had smacked her thighs to make her open them. I cared not, for our tongues were lick-a-licking then, her saliva warm and broody to my lips, my hands shaping in wonder the proud bulbs of her hard-nippled breasts that I had never dreamed to see. Oh bleary wonder of it all, in all its suddenness!

I heard Caroline lapping more below. My sister’s fingertips pressed tight into my neck. Her breath came hollow, hot, into my mouth, and then she felt down for my prick and traced the rigid outline through the cloth.

“D’you wannoo, Harry?” Her voice slurred - slurred with a passion and a slyness both.

“Want what?” I wanted her to say it, say.

“Fuck me - put your cock up, darling. Do it now.” Blur of the wonder of her words, a slow revolving of her hips to the teasing tongue of Caroline. The plums of Bertha’s and of Adelaide’s bottoms perched upon their saddles: suddenly I thought of that - the dark and secret places in between their thighs, quims squishy, rubbing on the leather as they rode.

“Yes - oh god, yes!” I knelt, unbuttoned, pushed my trousers down while Caroline sat up and wiped her mouth.

“No, take them right off, Harry, take off everything. Oh, Adelaide, oh look - it’s quite a big one - what a knob!”

“Oh!” My sister stared at it - my dangling balls - then turned upon her tummy, hid her face, but Caroline bent and rolled her over again. Then Adelaide looked up at my stiffened prick and put her finger in her mouth.

There are some who think of every act of love as much the same. For myself, I do not segregate the ones I most remember according to the postures one adopted or the words one said. Rather does each one have its own small tag. This one squealed a little, was held down; this one cried and kicked her legs; this one lay still and worked her bottom just a little to ones thrusts; another came and came - could not contain her cries of joy; one talked a lot, spun out obscenities; another was silent and breathed softly into one’s own mouth.

I believe that I loved Caroline the moment I first looked at her - and yet, and yet... Once she was naked, tits a-bobbing, joined us on the bed, I knew a sense of luxury in sin such as I have rarely known in all the years that followed as I slid between my sister’s thighs, drew up her knees and nubbed my helmet to her nest.

“Say you love me - say it first,” she whispered. Caroline turned on her hip and interposed her face and kissed her lips. The tingling of my knob to Adelaide’s crisp curls was quite exquisite. To my own joy I did not attempt to enter her but waited on the moment, cock to cunt, she breathing softly, eyes in mine, as I moved it slowly up and down.

“Before you came I made her nipples hard. Tell her you love her as I do,” said Caroline.

I could not at first. My heart, my cock, my balls, were all too full. I remember that we both blinked in our waiting. First her finger in her mouth and then the blinking. What a curiosity that I remember those two things!

“Open your legs more, Adelaide,” I husked. The smile upon her lips enchanted as I spoke the words.

“Mmmm...” she uttered, gave a catlike stretch and nudged her right leg to Caroline’s - formed of her slim, curved legs a V.

“Now fuck me, Harry. Do you dare to -dare? Put it right up me - let me feel you come. Darling, I want your cock inside my nest.”

“Who taught you such - to say such words?” I choked.

“Tell me you love me. You will never know. I was so naughty, Harry... OOOH! Oh yes!”

“I love you, love you, love you... ah!” All of a sudden I had slipped within, within, between the silken, clinging walls. Smacking my belly on hers, I grooved it up her to the root and felt my balls press at her bottoms cleft and heard the angels sing.

“DOO-OOOH!” she moaned and wound her legs up tight around my waist. All bleared before my eyes. She squeezed upon my embedded prick. Our mouths met, tongue to tongue. I worked her slowly, piston in and out, feeling a rapturous tingling in my prick.

“N... naughty, naughty, naughty... GOOOO!” she whined, then Caroline embraced us both.

I sought her bottom cheeks in turn, caressed the silky globe, found with my thumb her secret, nether hole and rubbed it sensuously. Her tongue then slipped between our own. We licked and knew the heights of ecstasy. I felt them everywhere - their arses, tits, between their bottom cheeks, and pumped my sister faster as we breathed our pleasure to each other’s lips. Rockets exploded in my belly, in my mind. I wanted to fuck her ever, ever - on and heard myself a-moaning at their mouths.

“Don’t come yet, Harry! Let me loose mine first - ah - OOOH!” She sprinkled, spattered, honeying my balls.

“I must, I must!” The fever was too strong.

“C... come deep up me - hold it in and come. I want to f... f... feel it, Harry. Yes, ah YES!” Her nails clawed at my back, dug in my skin. Her thighs were pincers, squeezing me. Sparklets of fire and snow - I loosed my jet, a jet so powerful and so thick she could not help but feel it hose her walls as gobble-gobble went our mouths, balls straining up beneath her bottom as I spermed and spermed and spermed - or so it always seems to one deep in the throes of hot desire.

At the last - at the last - in the deep trembling of it at the last - her mouth was glued to Caroline’s. I felt her quiver, shudder, come again. A haze of light and ever-rushing sighs, squeezings of limbs, and sinking, sinking, sinking, we were done. In the last ecstasies I loosed a thinner jet and heard her breath hiss up - into her nostrils at the feel of it. Falling like Autumn leaves, away, away. The bed ceased tinkling and a sudden quiet fell over us. Hands fondled gently, held to what they held like babies who hold rattles in their sleep. And Caroline’s warm bottom on my palm.

“Nice, it was nice - oh, Harry, it was nice.” A long sweet kiss from Adelaide, cock slipping from her creamy pot, brushing the lips that love had swollen up. Last pressure of our bellies and we slipped apart - logs severed by the axe of dying lust.

I lay upon my back, stared at the ceiling and its plaster wreathes, its roses and its ringlets all about. Heaven above me and beside me now. Then Caroline came over both of us - a flash of legs, dark bush and bulbing tits - and had me in the middle of the two. I held their hands. We lay like children and lay quiet.

“One never comes so much as when it’s naughty and one shouldn’t do.” Thus Caroline who nuzzled her nose into my neck. I wanted to tell her then that I adored her breath - even her breath - but words were faint within me then, the dying, slackening, of my turgid cock.

“You should have done it with her before,” she whispered. Adelaide said “Shush!” and rolled on her hip but held my hand still, pressed her bottom to my thigh.

“He never wanted to,” she said.

“Did!” I rejoined, though never had the thought engaged my mind.

“Didn’t!” she giggled, curved her foot and scratched my leg, so causing me to utter “ow!”

“Well, you have done it now. All things that should be done must always be done,” said Caroline.

I wanted then to ask a thousand questions of the pair, but somnolence was upon me like a cloud.

“The little man is tired - is he so tired?”

This came from Caroline, of course, who slithered down and down, then gobbled my wet prick into her mouth and made me jerk and clench my fingers. As I did, she let it lie upon her tongue and husked a laugh.

“Poor little thing - is it so sensitive?” she asked.

I quivered, stiffened down my legs.

“Don’t, Caroline, you are so wicked,” Adelaide said, and though she did not turn, she knew. Her fingers slipped from mine, sleeked upwards, blindly found my balls and lifted them to rest upon her palm. “Lie still,” she murmured, “just lie still.”

I closed my eyes, floated in Paradise. Then very slowly Caroline closed her lips and held my cock within her mouth, making but the faintest movements of it as she did. The hand beneath my balls stirred gently, weighed my eggs, then of a sudden Adelaide spun round and hid her face into my shoulder. One hard nipple touched my flaccid own.

“I’m sowwy I was naughty, Harry.” She moved her face and slipped her tongue into my mouth. I groaned, embraced her, held her tight. Incredibly and magically I felt a tingling in my prick. It moved and Caroline sucked softly on the crest.

“Were you always?” I asked. Adelaide nodded deep into my shoulder, hid her face. “Very often, Adelaide?” Another nod. “I thought you pure,” I said with wonder, then she giggled, bit my ear and whispered, “Don’t be silly. No one is.” My prick was getting stiffer and excitement rose anew along a long, slow wave. I held her velvet bottom cheeks, drew them apart. She murmured “Mmmmm...” Caroline still sucked upon my stiffening tube, then drew her wet mouth off and laughed and said, “She likes it there.”

“I don’t you story, ooh! No, Harry! aaah!”

I had my fingertip within and felt her clench on it possessively. “Do you?” I husked.

“Don’t... no... oh, Harry no, you naughty thing... no, not so much!”

But even so, but even so, I was at the first knuckle in her hole and felt the opening was wider far within.

“You do, I’ll wager that you do.”

My lust was up again, I could not help my words. The tongue of Caroline licked up and down my prick. It wavered to the ceiling, strained right up.

“She had it up there first, Harry, she did.”

“Oh, Caroline, I hate you! Harry, take it out!” She wriggled madly but was finger-corked. Each movement sent my finger deeper in until it cleaved her to the full. I dragged her hair and brought her wildly-working mouth to mine. She spluttered, gasped. I held her still - began to ease my digit in and out.

“Come, Harry - do it to her thus. He’s stiff for you, Adelaide - he really is!”

“I won’t, I won’t. Oh, Harry, don’t you dare! I beg you not! oh - ah, you beasts! Stop it, I say. I will not, will not, no!”

“Famous first words - I think they were her first. Come, get her over, Harry, I know how to deal with her.”

“Please don’t! I’ll hate you both - I will! Ya - hooo!”

My finger out, I rolled her over quick, Caroline leapt up, got to the floor and pulled Adelaide’s legs back till her bottom rose over the bed’s rolled edge, flat on her tummy as she lay, the cushions of her plump, tight arse presented to my view. Straining, she tried to rise. I held her shoulders down.

“She must be smacked first, Harry - that’s the truth of it.”

“Caro... Yow!” The strangled yell that came from Adelaide was cut off by the first smack that landed on her bottom cheeks and left a pink blur on the snowy orb.

“Be quiet, darling; I know what you best want - and as you ever had it, just like this!” Smack! Smack! from Caroline again. My sister’s hips jerked up and fell. Her fingers clenched upon the coverlet. Her shoulders quivered underneath my hands.

“Goo - oooh! Oh stop it, please! I... yah!” Another smack, and redder was her globe, causing my cock to quiver all the more.

“Don’t hurt her, Caroline,” I jerked.

“I’m not, you silly. Don’t you know she likes it?” Smack! Smack! Smack! More squeals and sobs from Adelaide, but not so loudly now. At the next and then the next she uttered a long-moaning “Foooo!”, her bottom cherry red, her hips not waggling as they had done just before. “Two more? You want two more, my pet?” asked Caroline.

“No, no! It st... st... stings me! yah!”

Ah, the ripe bounciness of those resplendent cheeks!

“Just one more, Harry. Come behind her now.” The biggest smack, and Caroline’s palm rebounded as I took her place.

“Oh-woh!” sobbed Adelaide. Her lovely bum jerked up, rotated, and was still. “You, you, you mustn’t, Harry! ah! Oh no! Not up my b... b... bottom! Whoooo!”

The faint ridge of her spine - her sleek smooth back - came under me as I bent over her, ringed her waist tightly, drew her bottom up, and urged my yearning pego in between her juicy cheeks. She wriggled strongly, but I held her tight, knob pressed against her brown-ringed orifice. Would it go in? Her no, no, no resounded, but her tone was weak.

“Right up her, Harry. She can take it all.”

“I can’t, I can’t! Don’t let him! Harry!.. aaaargh!” Adelaide’s legs straightened against mine. The ring yielded, opening like a close, tight flower that spies the dawn, its petals moving slowly out. A gritting of my teeth - I sank an inch within - then felt her of a sudden give a little jerk that swallowed in my knob the more. How tight and yet how spongy was her grip!

“Oooh, Har-ry!” There was a more pleading note now in her voice. Caroline laughed softly, watched my prick ease in and placed her hand beneath my buttocks.

“Nice? Is it nice? Go on. You can go deeper now. May he not, Adelaide? Come, darling, tell your brother so.”

“Yeh-Hesss! Oh, Harry, give me more!”

“You lovely, wonderful, you... b... b... bitch, you! What a bottom! Adelaide, I am right in, I’m up your bottom, darling - what a joy!”

Bulging, her silken cheeks came to my skin, bulbed deep into my belly, drawing on my cock that had ensheathed itself so deep that my balls now nestled underneath her cunt.

“Go on! Now pump her, Harry - pump it in and out. You won’t come so soon this time, my love,” breathed Caroline, leaning against me and her cheek to mine.

“My love?” I echoed the words in wonder, turned my face and drew upon her sparkling lips even while Adelaide squirmed and urged her bottom back and forth.

“If you wish, and I believe you do. Bugger her, Harry - give her all you have.”

“I w... w... want your bottom, too.” I felt for it and fingered the deeply cushioned furrow there. All was a breathless haze of words, a maze of wicked images and deeds.

“You shall - but do it to her first. Take her, darling; she is now all yours.”

“D... do it to me, Harry! oh - ah! Oh yes! Go faster and you’ll make me come again!”

“Wriggle your bottom, Adelaide. I love it so.” Bent over her, I cupped her dangling tits. Her face slewed round to mine. Our lips met, merged, tongues fought, her bottom bounced, smacking against me time and time again, her passage tight, yet spongy, and receiving to my wonder all the inward slewing of my tool, warm-rushing of her breath within my mouth.

“Mmmmmm!” she hummed, and Caroline was all but lost to me in those sweet moments as I pestled Adelaide, my cock clamped suavely as I urged it in and out, feeling her quim then as I did, feeling her slimmer fingers under mine as she more knowingly teased round her spot.

“Come in her, Harry - come in your sister’s bottom - let it spout.” Thus Caroline, and as she spoke her hand descended with a SMACK! upon my buttocks. In that same moment Adelaide mouthed at my mouth, “I’m coming, Harry, coming - do it now!”

“Dear god, right up your bum, you naughty thing!” I choked - so infantile are one’s words at such times. Already I was spouting, too - cock deep in her, unmoving then. My eyes screwed up in perfect bliss. Legs spread, her bottom balled into my belly, I donated all, cock sparkling with desire in her tight grip until with feeble gasps I loosed my last and felt her draw upon me greedily, our mouths no longer clamped but her head hung and mine a-resting on her neck, in my last quivers, quivering on.

Again the silence like a gentle cloud on us, and Caroline’s slim fingers tickling at my balls. We slumped, we panted, and lay still, then I drew my cork out with a dragging feel and flopped upon my back beside my sisters hip, she limp, quiescent and unmoving then, her face as peaceful as a baby angel.

“It was good that you came, Harry, was it not?”

Caroline laughed at her little pun and stood over me with legs apart, her bush displayed. The look of challenge had not left her eyes.

Chapter Three