Julie

15

You naughty, naughty Caroline,

You should have lingered on it longer-yes, you should! Poor me, I had to fill in all the gaps. But no, I tease you only. It is very difficult, my love, to give attention to all things at once. How all those murmurs must have filled the room! What ardent sighs as at last the sperm splashed out!

Is there a greater pleasure? Girls have often asked me that. Of course, I am perfectly honest with them-they all look to that. I tell them it depends upon their mood at this time or at that, and that sometimes-just sometimes-there is perfect pleasure in drawing on a new, expensive gown and feeling one's waist hugged by a pure silk corselette, one's stockings drawn up tight and-AH!-no knickers on!

They always laugh at that. Is it not true? The hungers of the body in all ways must be appeased. Ice cream in summer and champagne at night!

Also I advise them how to get the most expensive new gowns by encouragement of those who wish to give them. “Oh, but I may not wish to do it with them all- must I?” so am I asked. I shake my head and say “Most certainly not! Use your wiles, show your knees, perhaps even let yor garters be felt and your thighs caressed, but do not give in to everyone. The carrot must be dangled, though.” Of course, by “carrot” they often think that I mean “cock”-and almost true that is as well. My girls, you see, depart much wiser than they come, though my dictum is that for the first full month at least they must let their cunnies and their bottoms both be tupped and so learn the disciplines of receiving before they then learn to refuse. Am I not right? There is a pattern to such playfulness that all knowing females follow in the end. Sometimes they will-sometimes they won't- but each must first be disciplined and put to it that they know it's true worth. Thus it was with Jeannette. Yes, I am coming to it now. Do not you English speak of “breaking the ice again?” That was my task that night, and well I saw to it, though with no more finesse than you yourself would have set to the task. The four of us being settled (though Jeannette a little wary-and embarrassed, too!), I made my discourse quiet, and once again on many mundane subjects, which made her look in awe at me. This was the proper way to do it, was it not?

Your own circumstances with your girls were different-mine more delicate. There was an air of waiting in the gentlemen. Would they dare attempt my perfumed Venuses yet once again, and in my sight? Both girls wore simple gowns, and naught beneath save stockings. This, of course, I had told them to, and very conscious of it Jeannette was!

Georges yawned and stretched. I saw him look at me much as a dog looks to a bone that lies behind a wire fence. “Jeannette, are you to kiss your Papa goodnight?” I asked in casual tones. At that she pressed her legs together and turned her face quite slowly to him.

Perhaps the Minister foresaw my proposed denouement for he slipped his arm around Cynthia's waist and all but tumbled her onto his lap. “Oh!” she squeaked, but could not help but lean against him close, her cheeks against the side of his head while he felt her garters through her skirt. At that, and just as she was about to donate the chastest kiss, Jeannette twitched and then looked back to me. The moment was upon me! I rose and moved quite slowly to her where she sat alongside Georges. “What have I always taught you, dear?” I asked and knelt and raised her chin so that she might not escape my eyes.

“Wh… wh… what, Madam?” she stammered, going red. “What have I taught? Think on it. When something is to be done…”

“OH!” she gulped and said, “it… it… it must be then done properly,” and would have dropped her head had I not held it up.

“Properly, yes. Lie back and take his kiss, Jeannette,” said I most softly and then with both hands guided her shoulders down upon a cushion-beautifully arranged and one to take the full weight of her head! “Jeannette…” Georges husked and fell sideways half upon her as does a tall and heavy tree go down to meet the earth. A little “AH!” from Jeannette and then their lips full met. “Hold her so, Monsieur,” I said to Georges and, worming my hand between them where they lay, gathered up the hem of her dress and brought it up above her stocking tops. “Goooo! No!” Jeannette then gasped, but his hands were eager on her shoulders then and held her pinned. “Wait, Monsieur!” I all but snapped and intervened my face between their own.

Behind me, from the other pair, I heard much (as you heard in the meadow, dear), but took no note of that. Murmurings and whisperings reached my ears accompanied by the rustling of a dress that could be none other than Cynthia's. “Repeat what you just told me, Jeannette,”

I murmured. Georges knelt up and left the play to us, though hot-eyed at the sight of her bared thighs again and the stocking tops that rimmed the creamy flesh as tightly as they always should to give allure! “M… M… Madam… to d… d… do everything properly,”

Jeannette repeated, her own eyes aglow with wonder and her fingers gripping me as if protectively. Her teeth chattered a little-I swear they did-as then I pushed her gown up underneath her bottom and displayed her quim-a quim so thickly curled for one who is six months in sight of twenty still! Georges-glancing over his shoulder and both of us hearing a slight bump as Cynthia's bared bottom met the floor-saw what the Minister was at and (as I divined by mere sounds) prepared himself for battle, too. “No! No!” Jeannette skittered, for she sensed his actions, too. I ignored her fretful movements, words, and kissed her all about the neck, her cheeks, her slightly snubby nose, and big wide eyes. My mouth wandered to her mouth and found it soft. How delicious are such fleeting, teasing kisses when both females are coming up on heat! “I shall rise from you, Jeannette, in a moment…” “No, do not!” she whimpered then and clung again. I loosed her arms and heard the whisperings of Cynthia as the Minister went down upon her, cock to cunny warm. “You will be caressed first. Use your tongue, your fingers and your eyes, as I have taught you, Jeannette.” I was up at that and Georges with quite a growl upon her, feeling up her legs. Her back arched and she gasped a long-drawn “Oh!” “Jeannette!” I barked. She stared at me beyond his shoulder and lay still. Her lovely legs moved restlessly. With febrile, uncertain puttings of her hands to his shoulders, she turned her face away with cheeks ablaze and stared into the back of the chaise longue. “Slowly, Monsieur, she is a treasure among treasures,” I remarked and deigned to turn a moment and look down on the Minister, whose engine was chugging in dear Cynthia's tunnel. She, the cooler of the pair, could well look after herself and her own pleasures now, I knew, and so gave my attention quickly to my protege, as I was pleased to think of Jeannette. Her tight round bottom wriggled uneasily at first as first his fingers burrowed in her fur.

Evidently, though, he found her spot, for her expression changed. Her mouth took on a sullen, hungry look. “Spread your thighs more, Jeannette,” I ordained. Still staring in the opposite direction, to the wall, she let one elegant leg go lax and slip beneath her fathers to the floor so that her foot just touched it and her shoe was arched.

A snuffling through her nostrils then as an excitation in her grew.

Her tummy rippled and her fingers clawed a little at his shoulder blades. I, acting a love-nanny to her, bent upon the flushed pair once more and worked her dress up just beyond her tits that he might suck on them. He did! Once more her back was arched-again her moans! “Do not, do not-no, mustn't!” so she hummed, but only from a habit rather than conviction, so I felt! Her nipples rosy, stiff, he moved his lips up to her face and murmured to her incoherently. His trousers being doffed by then and puddled on the floor beside the couch, his penis beat its urgency against one milky thigh. “No, no-oh, no!” she mewed, though not with very much conviction.

“Wait, Monsieur, raise yourself a little. Jeannette, give me your hand,” I murmured while the bumping pair upon the carpet hissed their pleasure. “Noooo!” she whimpered, but I took it all the same, limp as it was, and guided it down, down, until her fingers touched against his prick. They lay there flaccid, then I smacked her arm, and then she gripped it, causing him to groan! “Still slowly, still slowly, Monsieur!” I urged, “and now, Jeannette, your tongue. Extend your tongue a little-offer it!” Kissing her neck as he then was and she holding upon the great stalk of his penis, Jeannette slowly turned her face upwards to mine, lips lax, eyes pools of wonder (or astonishment?!). “Do it, Jeannette. I shall then put out the light.” “Oh!” she moaned, though as you well know, Caroline, such is a sound beyond description-what you have often called “a little wobbly sound!” A great sigh issued from her lips, but then I saw her fingers move a little up and down his prick. Her cunny almost bubbling as it must have been, how could she for much longer contain herself? A short, pink stamen of her tongue protruded then and sullenly-or was it in a daze!-she slipped her mouth sideways beneath his own and their tongues met. Ah, how a visible quiver seized them both! I watched their little jerks that came in unison, then melted into one. He rolled upon her more, his penis ready, the plumlike bulb upon her belly pressed just where her pubic curls began. “Say yes, say yes, Jeannette!” he pleaded. All then was still for a moment. Gurgles, moans, came upwards from the floor-the slapping of the Minister's testicles beneath Cynthia's derriere. “Say yes or no, Jeannette-it is for you to speak now,” I whispered, for I wished to give her leeway just in this! She had not struggled overmuch, lay placid, waiting to be spermed, I knew, despite her palpitations, small alarms. The prodding monster of his cock now urged her on to this surrender, the crest quivering on her belly in delight. I moved, moved suavely to the light and turned it down until the gaslight all but flickered out and a semi-dusk of mystery was laid upon the room.

My absence for those seconds seemed to help. He had whispered something in her ear. I heard her little mewing cry, “Yes, yes, all right-yes, put it in-ooh!-oh!- PAPA!” Her cunnylips had yielded to his knob at last and, as I fell beside them once again upon my knees, she yielded inch by inch. I peered between them in the soft, dim light and watched his rigid penis delving in, the burrowing master of her fate that grooved its course between her sealskin walls and with a final jolt was full embedded to an “AH!” from her. My dearest, you will understand that the rest was such a melange of rising passion as even I cannot describe-nor even you, perhaps! The bout upon the rug was finished. Those two actors lay inert while Cynthia squeezed upon a dwindling cock. The creme de la creme was there, upon the chaise longue, underneath my eyes. “Jeannette! You are so tight, my pet!” “Am I?” Their voices sounded as if in some far dream. Some words were plain, lewd, passionate, and others lost between their hungering mouths. Her breath hissed out again. I knew her to be coming. Her once-limp leg that had lolled down at the side of the chaise longue was raised (by her!) and coiled his waist like a stockinged serpent of desire. “F… f… fucking you!” he groaned; she gasped out “Yes!” as if they had both each just discovered it! I left them to their play. Can you believe it? But yes, I did. I motioned my other players up. Awed and excited their glances fell upon the enlaced and heaving pair, and then they shuffled out, the Minister still holding up his trousers! I guided them to that small room where pupils sometimes take a little rest between their lessons. “Bid goodnight to him, Cynthia. A perfect pet you've been. I shall return, Monsieur, with your companion in due course to see you out.” “Yes,” he replied, and sounded like a frog. I closed the door and heard a giggle from dear Cynthia, who had become of a sudden much, much more advanced, but that is to the good. She will not fret nor struggle any more! I delayed my return to Georges and Jeannette until I thought them “decent” once again.

Jeannette had fled, however, and Georges was all alone, combing his hair with a certain cockerel pride, though a little bemused to see me once again. I referred to nothing of what had passed, of course. “You are going, Georges? A pleasant evening? Good,” said I. He gave me quite an anxious look. “As to Jeannette…” he began, but had no more to say. “She has benefited much and will sleep like an angel. A little naughtiness here and there-what notice takes the world of it? And besides, the world will never know. I will exercise the girls with no one else-I promise that.” “What a divine creature you are!” He seemed impelled to take a step towards me. I allowed his kiss, though he was for the moment too enfeebled by his bout to have his penis stir again. “You hold in your arms but a sensible woman, Georges. You and the Minister may be counted as the chosen few-the chosen two, in fact! Return together as you will. Only apprise me of your coming.” “Yes, of course!” He almost laughed in his relief. I saw them off and waved their carriage in the dark goodbye.

Had I been far more indiscreet than I had needed to be? Excitement, I confess, had carried me forward- much as you with Alison and the others. Jeannette had taken refuge in my bed (not for the first time) and I found her there, the light out and she all doubled up and quiet.

I undressed and slipped beside her, smoothed her hair. Little by little she snuggled into me and all was restful! Thus my story, then, and the wickedest I have yet had to tell-though I almost put a question mark to that! Have I relived it sufficiently for you to feel yourself a witness at the scene? One never does-or never quite, alas.

We all seek change, delight, fulfillment, and as to your seeking other girls, why not? What a practised Principal you, too, would make! Have you never thought of that? There are, I believe, so-called Governesses in England-some whose advertisements I have noticed in The Times-who take girls in for “discipline,” so called, but I would wager that the young ladies have a very dull time of it for such women enjoy beating bottoms and little else. How utterly boring that must be! You with your expertise, your powers of persuasion, and your skilled devices could do much better than they. And, besides, have you not a ready clientele in your surroundings? Think on it, I implore you.

Besides, how many merry tales you would then have to tell me! I will help you all I can, you know, even at a distance. Tell me soon!

Your Hopeful And Devoted Julie