Caroline

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I am told that I write too much about myself, and this by Caroline who watches over my manuscript like a mother at a cot.

“If I write too much about you, my dear, people will say that you are lewd,” I joked.

“Let them say it to my face,” she replied.

“I only jested,” I called out, but she was gone. Her talent for showing disfavour that I know not to be real is still quite strong. Women do have a way of saying things that is totally unfair, and which is known to be, and yet makes one examine one's own soul. One comes up from all their accusations with a mite of truth so small as to be barely visible-yet it instills a sense of guilt in one.

Very well-I succumb. I have been pretending to myself, perhaps, that I shall later write another volume of Caroline and Adelaide, but the chore would overcome me. I shall find no publisher, in any case, and would not wish to seek one.

“What if you do not? It keeps you quiet,” is said. Affectionately, I think. At least I hope that to be true. I am blessed with a large member and a willing heart and have no talents other that I know of, or would boast to have.

The period of this particular and rather bizarre little tale was just prior to the memorable occasion-that which changed my very life-when I first entered their beds. Desiring to emulate her Mama in a piece of mischief, Caroline had contrived a plan which rested on an encounter with a lonely, seeking male-the which, for a girl as attractive as was she was by no means difficult. She accomplished this in a coffee house in the nearby market town where sipping her beverage, she was the subject of a number of admiring male eyes.

The owner of a pair of such amused her by venturing out and then immediately afterwards returning in as if he had just arrived. Begging her pardon, he asked if he might take a seat at her table and-this permission being granted-was soon engaging Caroline in conversation.

She affected shyness at first, but soon allowed herself to be seemingly carried away and tittered at his occasional, feeble jokes.

Thinking himself no doubt a lucky dog, the fellow fell to boasting of his adventures, the greater number of which Caroline discerned to be as transparent as he, but gave great appearance of believing. Having thus warmed himself up to her acquaintance, as he thought, he fell to more suggestive talk. Caroline, being an excellent actress, appeared to succumb to this until the conversation grew even more intimate as to their various follies. Giving the most skillful appearance of appearing secretly excited (the which I have seen her do on later occasions in my presence when we have been nurturing young ladies), and having accepted a brandy which appeared to add to her intrigued flutterings, Caroline responded to her would-be seducer by teasing out a tale of her own.

“I should not tell you this-indeed you will think me utterly immodest-but I too have attended private parties at which there was a certain naughtiness,” she said to his delight.

Having him thus hooked, she was able to convey more hesitations as to the nature of her imminent confession, this driving him quite frantic to hear all.

“Well, then, I will tell you, provided you promise to tell no one else,” said Caroline, and went on to engage herself in a description of a quite imaginary occasion at which a form of Postman's Knock was played. Not in the usual way, as she said, wherein a gentleman or lady is called out by the “Postman” to be kissed in the hall, and everyone thinking it the most jolly of fun, but a libertine variation which provided for the Postman's “Knock” to become something quite other.

'That is to say,” she went on-casting glances around lest anyone else might hear-“the Postman's real offering, as soon as a lady was called, was in the nature of a word that rhymes with 'Knock.' But oh, how rude you will think me, sir!”

“I say, go on, go on!” the fellow interjected with some agitation.

“I should not tell you-really I should not-but, oh, if you insist! Instead of placing himself simply in the hall, as is the custom with the ordinary game, the Postman was required to place himself outside the front door where, of course, there is a letterbox. The ladies meanwhile were closeted in a separate room so that they knew not who the Postman was from moment to moment. When a man was called, however-and this being done as usual by drawing them from a hat-she entered the hall and advanced towards the front door. And there, presenting himself in the most unusual way, was the hidden Postman presenting himself through the letterbox. The lady then had the choice of accepting his 'delivery' or not. If she liked what she saw, she would feel the offered instrument of his desire and then open the door to him.”

Naturally enough, the man's eyes glowed at the receipt of this intelligence. “I say! Do you mean he was actually putting his-er… I mean to say, through the letterbox?” he asked in breathless tones.

At that, Caroline appeared to become aware of the time or, if not, of her seeming indiscretion, for she rose and excused herself.

“Really, I have said too much. The brandy, I believe. I know not what you will think of me. I am not a loose girl, you know,” she averred, and made to bid him adieu.

“Pray let me escort you home,” was then said by he whom she had aroused. Demurring at this at first (though in pretence), Caroline finally acceded to his wish and allowed him to call a cab whereat, once ensconced, he plied her with more questions such as gave Caroline to even more clearly understand that he knew little enough of women whom he had earlier so boasted of.

“How naughty of me to have told you at all. I know not what came over me. Well, yes then, if you will-my sister too was there.”

“I say, did you both receive a package?” chuckled he and laid his hand upon her thigh.

“Really, sir, what a question to ask! I am sure you would have been too modest to play Postman.”

“I? Good heavens, no! Why, I recall one day in India…” he began and then launched into an even more unlikely tale than Caroline's, she seeing through it, but pretending fascinated interest. By then, however, they arrived at Adelaide's abode and he accompanied her to the front door, having by all sorts of lecherous hints given her to understand that he was a ladies' man of the highest repute.

“Is your dear sister in?” he asked as they approached the frontage.

“Why? Would you be as bold with her, sir, as you have with me? In such case you would have to present yourself to her as I've described. She liked the naughty game more than did I,” said Caroline whose warm thigh, yielding to his touch in the conveyance, had caused him an erection which she plainly saw a-prodding in his trousers.

“Oh, I say!” he uttered, quite taken aback by this bold proposal and gazing in some surmise at the brass letterbox.

“Have you not the heart for it? Certainly you appear to have the package,” Caroline averred and passed her hand across his trousers as she spoke.

“My goodness!” he exclaimed, being confronted by reality rather than such dreams as boastful men are wont to be possessed of. Enlivened the more by Caroline's daring touch, he passed his arm about her waist and prepared to kiss her in the porch.

“Oh no, that is not the game at all. You have not yet presented your credentials, sir. I will knock in a special way and Adelaide will answer. She may not do so, though, if she does not see a suitable offering!”

“Well, I… goodness me… I say, what fun!”

'There are two of us, remember-though from all that you have told me, sir, you can satisfy us both.”

“By jove, I can-I'll cream both of your buns,” he boasted, but even so showed hesitation still to reveal his member in that way. Brooking none of that, however, Caroline reached across him and gave a triple knock.

“Quickly now-get it out and push it through the letterbox,” she ordained.

Blushing deeply, for all his talk, the fellow did so, inserting his rigid member with some effort through the aperture and standing most awkwardly, of course, while Caroline-in appearing to assist him-pressed at his buttocks from behind.

Adelaide meanwhile had not only heard the signal but had peeped through a side bow-window prior to that and realised Caroline's intent, for they had often spoken of such a prank. Of this the hopeful fellow knew nothing. The next thing that he knew was that his prick-poking through the letterbox and into the hall-was seized by my sister who thereupon unlatched the door, but still kept hold of it. Thus he was forced to follow the movement of the door while Adelaide stood half behind it and Caroline then followed swiftly in to frantic gurgles of astonishment from their male captive.

“Hold him, dearest.”

“Yes, I am. Fetch a rope quickly-bind his arms,” said Adelaide to wild yells form the gentleman who was then secured in quite a different way, his arms clamped to his sides while then his penis was released and no doubt slightly painfully was drawn back from the letterbox and the door closed.

I have said before (or trust I have) that one gentleman does not boast of conquests to another, and certainly not to a lady unless they are of the most intimate acquaintanceship. Even so, it will then not be boastful, but a civilised description of events which may well stir the two to amourous combat even while they speak of it.

I have heard tell of men who frequently prostrate themselves before ladies and beg to be allowed to kiss their boots or even lick their toes. I have played such games myself, as well you know by now, but never with obsessiveness. If I am to be frank, I see no difference in such unmanly curs as a girl who bends before the birch, though the only equation to be drawn from this is that the one is submissive all his life while the girl Is merely schooled to pleasure and deserves the highest praise on ceding to the probing cock.

I will not say that this gentleman was such of whom I speak. He was merely to have an entirely new experience, albeit one that changed his way of life, I do believe, for he courted both thereafter by letter and begged them to do the same again. This indeed was the way that Caroline first described the adventure to me-which is to say in the convoluted fashion of women who keep one an eternity before the reaching of the point.

“What did you do-thereafter?” I first interrupted her.

“I am trying to tell you,” quoth she. “Having secured him well, and amid much blustering and yelling on his part, he was drawn into the drawing room and there we got his trousers down and tucked his shirt up. I will not relate his imprecations. Some were really those of a foul man and not a gentleman. Adelaide twisted his prick and told him to keep him quiet. I fetched a tin bowl-for I had seen Mama do such in games at home. I held his balls and frigged him into it. You should have seen his face! My dear!”

She could not contain her laughter at the episode. I waited patiently, then she went on, “Having done so, and milked him like a cow, he became very tremulous. I should have said that we forced him down upon his knees before he spilled his sperm. I left the bowl in front of him. A token of his wickedness, I said. He almost cried, and begged forgiveness in his weakened state.”

“Then did you throw him out?”

“No, no, the game was not then over, dear. I reminded him of his boast that he could butter both our buns. He, kneeling, tried to rise, but I prevented him, hands hard down on his shoulders while your darling sister raised her skirt and, bending over, thrust her naked bottom to his face. I pressed his head and forced his nose between her nether cheeks. It was no trial to hold him thus.

“There is one bun you have not buttered yet,” I said. He tried to shake his face away; we would not let him do, and kept him at it on and on until his cock twitched, quite despite himself. Continuing to press his nose deep to her bottomhole, I frotted at his pego once again.

“I can't, I can't!” he groaned into her splurging cheeks.

“You can-you must-you have to fill the bowl,” I said. Then Adelaide spun round and took his ears and rammed his mouth up underneath her quim.”

“Oho, you wicked girls!” I burst to Caroline.

“Who dares to speak of such? I made you do the same with Mama, and you know I did.”

“That was a game,” said I and blushed.

“Well, so was this, my dear, save he was much more forced to it than you. What a fuss you males make when we handle you! And anyway, 'twas he who accosted me,” said Caroline with a pert shake of her head. “Lick me, you dog!” were Adelaide's next words. A transformation seemed to come upon him then. Her legs were spread. He licked her for a long time, like a hound, and then he came again; the bowl received his offering. At that she stepped back, kicked him, and he groaned and would have slumped face forward, but I held him up. The game had palled a little, I confess, by then. His member was no use to either of us, and indeed we did not want it. Being told sharply to get up, he rose. We led him back into the hall and then untied his bonds. His bonds came loose. He stared at us with haggard look.

“'You will go,' I told him sharply. Adelaide then turned the doorknob and began to open it.

“'May I not see you again?' he asked to our astonishment and gazed from one to t'other as in a dream.

“'No, you may not,' I said. I was truly all a-wonder at his newfound attitude and feared he might attack us, as did Adelaide. She opened the door wider and stepped back.

“'I do not mind what you did to me,' he mumbled, 'I am deserving of it-I am a cur. I am not fit to lick your boots. No one has handled me like that before.

“'Perhaps they should have,' I said. The moment was quite electric dear. I knew not how to handle it. It was no game. His eyes had a deep look of humbleness. I quivered inwardly, but outwardly was calm.”

“Yes, I am sure you were,” I said. The story had a curious ring, yet I believed each word of it. After all that we had seen and done, she has no need to lean upon inventions of this sort. “And then?” I asked.

“He threw himself upon his knees again, head bowed, and kissed our boots, then shuffled backwards like a stricken animal and made his way at full pace down the drive. At the gate he turned and cried out something in beseeching tone that neither of us could dissemble. Adelaide closed the door. All day we could talk of nothing else. Then came his letters, begging to be treated so again. Uh! How could one deal with such a man?”

“You had uncovered something in his soul,” said I. There are many oddities in life like this. I have heard of men who have stolen women's drawers fresh off the washing line, but whether to sniff or what to do with them I do not know. Such men lurk on the edges of the world. I do not like their kind. They have unhealthiness.

Am I too subtle for you now, after such various confessions as I have made? I trust that I am not. I had indulged in such, but in quite different wise. Lord Somner's words as a to male attitudes were right. There were times when he and I were made to kneel-heads humbly tucked beneath the female's skirts, or made to seem that it was humble, I should say. It was a form of play, though, and no more. True, when bidden to, after thigh-and-knicker treatment, as it was sometimes called, and having sniffed between their legs but not allowed always to show our pricks, we would take our shuffling steps upstairs and heard their lilting laughter follow us.

Not long would pass, however, before we descended. I speak in the plural, though it always happened separately to us, and to several of Caroline's uncles, too. Upon reappearing in the midst again of lovely limbs and ardent eyes, the balance was by silent consent restored and all would act as if nothing curious had passed. Lord Somner-then more bluff and bold than I-would holler, “Come-who is for birching now? Where are the naughty girls?'

One or the other would then be taken up. The usual squeals would follow, then the moans, and then a silence as from pleasure spent.

The pendulum had swung full back again.