Caroline

CHAPTER THREE

It is twenty years now since that afternoon. The bed remains as it remained. Only the covers and the linen have been changed, are frilled more now with lace and pooled with silk. The same sun casts its glow into the room on summer afternoons as then it cast, dappling their breasts and thighs with leaves of light.

Love is a game. My wife-dear Caroline-has made it so. A game that has no losers, she declares. Dice of desire are cast, the bottoms and the cunnies wriggle on. Even this afternoon, lying with them both, poking my sister first, then Caroline, we spoke of it. Adelaide smiled with hooded eyes, stretched like a cat as she always does, black stockings sheathing up her fine, firm legs, richer and plumper now about her thighs, her breasts the heavier, her bottom ever eager to receive.

“We would never have done so many naughty things if Caroline were not so wicked,” she will often say. It intrigues her to use the adjective and adds a spice to it. I have known them both laugh against my mouth the while we teased each other, sheathed it in. There is laughter often and no darkness here. I have known… But no, my pen runs on.

Caroline interrupts me frequently to read what I have written. I do not like what I have written and have told her so. I come not within a dozen leagues of what I mean to say. The words, like butterflies, escape my net. The weight of a pendant tit upon the palm, the rearing of a naked bottom to the hand, the ineluctable sensation of coursing up one's fingers to the curl-fringed quim of a young girl who sobs against ones mouth-such cannot be described. It is a mere pointing to the moon that hangs too far above-a stabbing of the fingers to the stars whose distance mocks one. Thus I say again, again, to Caroline. She teases me. Her kisses breath upon my mouth the same desiring that I always knew.

“Why, dearest, do not try too hard. You will achieve. Father often said that if you would best do a thing, you must do it without too much thought, for the mind constructs a lattice-work of doubt, hinders all efforts and diverts the aim. Miss Withers dines with us tonight. Wait till you see her drawers-how tight they are!”

Caroline often speaks thus, darting from one subject to another.

“Shall I see them?” Often I wish to draw her back to the subject that I started on, but never do.

“You may. She is a spinster, as you know-but such a comely one and, I regret to say, my pet, a full five years younger than I am. There may be tears from her, but I will kiss them all away. Would that I were a man and had a prick. Well-sometimes I do wish that. I shock you still a little, do I not?”

“No.” But my flush betrays me. Pretending that I wish to kiss her words away is merely a disguise for my desires which burn as brightly as her own, and kindled by her ever on.

“Miss Withers, Harry, she is like-well, very much like-Gertrude Smeath, in looks. Remember her?”

“My goodness, yes. But kiss me, do!”

“Not now, not now. A full week you have toiled, and yet so little written. Three more pages, if you please, before the evening charms us with Miss Withers' sighs. You know I want to read about us all, and so does Adelaide. Get on with you and get your duty done. Write sweetly, though, of Gertrude; she was really nice!”

“I will change her name at least.”

“No! You may not! It is a lovely name, so redolent of ripeness as she was, and is. How long is it since we encountered her?”

I shrug. “Three years, or four perhaps.”

“Harry, it does not matter. To begin at the beginning and to go on till the end-how boringly conventional!” A laugh and she is gone. My pen tip hovers, scratches once again here in my enforced privacy where I have set myself this task of memory. Here there is nothing but the dancing of the words, the arabesques of verbs and adjectives, the commas dabbed by penis tip as a pointillist tips his bright colours to the canvas. Quotation marks become my introducing chords. Here one may speak and another may fall silent, wait her turn.

Gertrude Smeath, then. Very well. It was six months after that first orgy that we met the lady. Here I must interpolate, however (seeking a mite of tidyness in the order of things) that Adelaide's husband had not quite treated her as she had said. The truth was, she was bored with him- had met Caroline some time before and hatched all sorts of wicked plots with her. After our bedroom romp, my sister was not long in parting from her mate. He betook himself to Ceylon to take up his father's tea plantation and left the house to her: a generosity to which he was persuaded in great part by Caroline who had no scruples when it came to such, disdaining as she did and does the idea that property is the prerogative of males.

I am diverting, and shall be chided for it by my wife. It irritates me, however, to see loose bits of string about. I had not been expected on that first afternoon I have described. The girls, as then they were, had been playing together in an amourous way and, on my appearance, the quick-witted Caroline had used my visit on an inspiration-Adelaide having listened from upstairs, though I did not know that then.

I am pleased with myself that I have tidied up that little piece, shall be called a pedant for it, but I do not care- will make amends by turning now to Gertrude who was then thirty and as Junoesque as I do not doubt she now remains. It was the beginning of the bicycling period then and we encountered her on the road a mile from Adelaide's home. The front wheel of her bicycle had come loose and, having no means of tightening it, we loaded it precariously on to the roof of our carriage and took it to her home some miles away. There we were royally entertained in a very lovely mansion that she and her husband had.

“How young you all are!” she flattered us, and I remarking to myself all the time the delightful prominence of her bottom in the cycling knickerbockers that she wore. Indeed, she saw my eyes upon them and without offense, twirled round and asked, “Do you like them? They betray the figure better than a gown, I think.”

That very sentence eased our path of friendship. Women have a great instinct for certain matters, and Gertrude was not long in divining that our relationship was not of the conventional. Indeed, by teasing questions- which embarrassed me at first much more than it did Adelaide and Caroline-she soon elicited our closeness and my sister's married or half-married state.

“One does not want a husband about the house too often-it impedes one's pleasures, does it not?” she asked. There was much dispensing of wine that afternoon. I believe she wanted us to become a little bibulous to make our tongues loosen all the more, but Caroline at least had summed her up. There was no need for tipsiness.

“We are free-thinkers just as you Gertrude, yes. Is it not called that nowadays?” Caroline asked.

“It is, my dear, and I am glad that you are such. There are so many stuffy folk around. Do you read much?” she asked observing Caroline's quick eyes upon a book that lay upon a table near her chair. Before Caroline could answer, she went on, “It is by de Sade-a very wicked man. I suspect that it would shock you. Better that you do not pick it up.”

This being, of course, a clear invitation to do exactly that, Caroline's hand moved towards it, though without betraying such eagerness as I suspected that she felt.

“He is full of darkness,” Caroline said to the apparent great wonder of Gertrude. By stretching her arm to a full extent, she was able to flip open the top board of the volume so that it flopped its flap upon the table top and left the title page revealed. So calmly and with such elegance did she perform this simple gesture that I felt myself as if falling in love with her all over again. I knew the measure of her coolness in that moment more than I had done before.

“You have read him?”

There was great surprise in Gertrude's voice. Caroline had notched-up one as we nowadays say. Gertrude rose and went to Caroline's armchair to perch her luscious bottom on one arm. Having so intervened herself between the book and Caroline-which gesture I believe caused my future wife a tremor of annoyance-she picked the volume up and laid it in Caroline's lap.

“Papa has a fine library. Ah yes, Le Philosophe dans le Boudoir,” said Caroline.

“Then your Papa must be full of good precepts. It is illustrated, as you can see.”

“What is it?” Adelaide asked and jumped up, full of curiosity. With a smile from Gertrude, she took the other arm of the chair and then immediately put her hand to her mouth in surprise as pages of the book were turned. At that, Gertrude looked across to me and suggested that I too might like to peep. She being the nearest to my vantage point, I went across and found myself quite close to her-so much so that my leg touched hers.

I confess that a flush spread across my features, not because of that pleasant contact but as a result of the engraving on which all looked.

“That, I suppose, is Dolmance,” Caroline said, perceiving as we all did the figure of a youngish gentleman with his trousers to his ankles, an enormous erection displayed, and it being couched in the palm of a beautiful woman of about his own age whose thighs were bared and held apart and who gazed up at him smiling. In the background, attired only in a transparent peignoir, stood a young girl of about fifteen, watching-her finger in her mouth.

Caroline turned the pages slowly. There were more such and each bolder than the other ones.

“Il sodomise sa soeur,” Gertrude said with a tinkling laugh, and indeed he was doing exactly that with his penis buried in her fundament and a look of extreme pleasure on her face. Caroline looked up at me and laughed-a laugh so meaningful that it could not escape the attention of our hostess whose hand immediately, though with discretion, wandered to my prick and felt its rising through my trousers.

“Is Harry naughty, then?” she asked playfully. The touch of her strange fingers excited me tremendously. She made no bones about feeling my cock up and groping it in front of them.

“Adelaide, you tell her.” Caroline smiled. Adelaide shook her head and blushed, whereat Gertrude laughed and said, “Why, look, he has come up at the thought of it. I am sure we have all been naughty and have no need to hide the fact.”

“I do not like the ending of the story, though-it is quite horrible,” Caroline said, whereat Gertrude slipped her free hand behind her head and stroked her hair and made her look up into her eyes.

“I agree, darling. One does not want cruelty, but pleasure only. How old were you when you read it?”

I stood transfixed. As Gertrude spoke, so she bent and fastened her mouth on Caroline's. I heard Caroline say thickly against her lips, “Seventeen.” Adelaide breathed in heavily. She gazed first at them and then at me. Since I was all but facing her from the opposite side of the armchair, she could not help but see the fingers of Gertrude nibbling at the buttons of my flies and undoing them one by one.

“It is a good age, cheri. Your titties must have been quite firm by then. Were you spurred on-the birch, the carte, the tawse, perhaps?”

Caroline murmured incoherently. I knew their tongues to be busy. Then, reaching behind her shoulders and while not ceasing to work lips to hers, Gertrude pulled on Adelaide and brought her half to fall into the chair on Caroline.

“Put your tongue with ours,” she coaxed and, with that, delving her backward-reaching hand into my opened trousers, she drew out my throbbing tool. Excitement rose with every second then. I saw the pink tips of their tongues; they felt each other's titties, thighs, a perfect melee of desiring limbs. Then Gertrude rose and left my sister and my love quite breathless, tousled, flushed of face. My cock stood in the sight of all.

“I myself was cropped,” Gertrude said quite proudly, “Were you two like that? I believe you were. You have the look of it, the boldness that it brings.”

“Adelaide was,” said Caroline. She laughed and tossed her hair back as she spoke. My sister took her place back on the thick, rolled arm and said, “Shut up!” She stared at me defensively. I held her gaze.

“Were you?” I asked.-“No-she makes it up,” she said, but was caught between a giggle and a choking sound.

“On a green sward, your bottom rosy, ripe-or was in on your bed, across a desk? Not matter, for the pleasure takes one just the same,” said Gertrude. As she spoke, so she removed her large black bow, cast it aside and flicked the pearl buttons of her blouse out of their holes, drew both the sides apart and showed her tits. “I am the elder. May Harry do it to me first?” she asked. Her breasts looked enormous: half as big again then as were the girls', the nipples conical and brown and sticking out. Then, while a wondering silence greeted her, she pecked at more buttons at her waist and pushed her knickerbockers down until they reached her knees.

How bizarre, voluptuous and majestic she then looked! Her bush was thick and deeply frizzled below the creamy swell of her belly.

“Well?” she asked, “Are you too shy to do it to me now in front of them?”

“Harry, go on-I want to see. Gertrude, turn round, bend forward, put your hands upon your knees,” said Caroline with the boldness that was frequently her way. She stood up. Gertrude smiled a smile at her as if of admiration and surprise, but did not hesitate. She swung around several feet in front of us and bent as she was told, her big bottom cheeks presented, plump and totally unflawed, a faintly gingery hue between the large, ballooning hemispheres. A dimple decorated the left half of her luring bum most prettily.

Off came my jacket and I pushed my braces down. All was quiet then in the ornate drawing room. Only a clock ticked out its monotone and threw the seconds out in a slow shower of sparks.

Feeling my approach-and I sensing myself utterly on exhibition, as it were-Gertrude reached between her legs with her right hand and groped up underneath her bottom for my cock. I bent my knees and put it to her searching fingers then.

“Service me, Harry.” she murmured. I had never heard the phrase before, but have known since that it is much used by the country folk who may say also that a girl has been “covered” if she has been fucked.

I clasped my hips and bent my knees. Not a sound came to me from the girls behind. My swollen knob was grazed against thick curls, felt rolled lips and moisture there, and then manouevred in till it slipped upwards in her spongy dell. At that, Gertrude spread her sturdy legs the more and put her hand again upon her knee-the other being similarly placed. Slowly I sheathed my cock and felt the well-known tingling round my knob as it invaded the close, silky walls until my balls hung underneath her quim. Gertrude hissed her breath out, then was quiet. Her heels dug in the carpet, pressed down by her weighty legs.

“Slowly, Harry!”.

I resented, I believe, the intrusion of Caroline's voice. I was, it seemed, brought to perform. A gaggle of females is quite “dangerous” in that respect. Some may simper and do what is asked of them, but others take a strength upon themselves and reverse the usual roles of males and female. I no longer dislike that and have known other men of the same mind. One is transported for a while into a different world where females rule. There are some women who will have it no other way, but Adelaide and Caroline were never so and would come meekly to me in the aftermaths, as if the game had changed and the old order then restored.

In my awkwardness on that occasion, I knew not how to hold or support Gertrude whose solid stance and sturdiness were such that her hips but jolted lightly as I pumped away, first holding at her hips and then, more pleasurably, palming the fronts of her plump thighs and feeling through her cunthairs as I did.

My sister did not move, nor Caroline. I have no doubt they kissed. I heard small sounds. Seated as they were, they could best see the in-out shunting of my tool in Gertrude's nest and the steady swinging of my testicles. Moving my hands again, I let Gertrude's weighty tits perform their wobblings on my palms and felt the stinging of her nipples on my skin.

A minute passed of steady slewing in and out. I must confess the girls had trained me well in those past months, had monitored me not to come too soon-had even strapped my buttocks when I did, then cozened me, made jokes of it, and so mollified me that I had no resentment of their knowing ways. A lively girl is always older than her male, even though he be twice her age.

Gertrude scarcely murmured, but I felt her come, sprinkling my cock, her bottom smacking loudly to my belly as she did. I hissed my own pleasure out-tried not to moan. The largeness of her bottom was a pure delight- the full width of my waist, for I was slim. A ruthlessness seized me. I began to ran her harder with my cock. She uttered a small noise at that, as if I pleasured her the more.

“Do you like his balls? Do they not look nice?” I heard Caroline say. My sister murmured something in reply. Caroline had her hand right up her skirt, I'm sure. The slapping of my flesh grew louder in the drawing room. Blurred though my vision was with lust, I was aware of all-the velvet curtains, polished sideboard, silver ornaments, a vase of flowers. My prick was in the cunt of a comely woman whom I scarcely knew-a silken sheath that sucked upon my tool. A strong desire to kiss her wide, — full mouth was on me, but I knew she would not turn her face. We were “performing” and no more than that.

“Haaar! Oh, Caroline, oh darling!” I heard Adelaide declare. I did not turn my head. I did not want to see and yet I did. I heard the chair creak and a rustling sound. SMACK! SMACK! came Gertrude's bottom into me, and then I came all in the glory of my spurting sperm and could not stem the tide, could not. I loosed her tits and parted wide the elastic half-moons of her bottom cheeks, pressed my thumb to her crinkled orifice and loosed the last warm strings of come, her full moon wriggling to my urging thumb.

As I withdrew at last, I spattered on her stocking top and Gertrude rose and turned about, wobbling her breasts against my chest and kissing me with passion.

“You naughty things are just what I need.” she said, and gasped “Oh, look at them!”

I turned about, my cock held in her grasp. Adelaide was seated and her dress thrown up. Kneeling before her, Caroline supported my sister's stockinged legs upon her shoulders and was lapping slowly at her cunny-slit.