Muriel

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sylvia's Day-Book

Papa is acting very strangely. Perhaps it is because he misses Mama, but I am not sure of that. He never mentions her to me, though asked a little dolefully whether I would go to Liverpool at Christmas. Such a problem that is for me! I do not think he likes my Aunties very much, but I do. Perhaps I shouldn't. They are very naughty with me sometimes, and especially in bed, but now that I am older I can be naughty, Aunty Muriel says. She told me that most ladies are, but they do not always show it to the world. One cannot always tell-that is the fun of it, she says. When they rub their things to mine, it feels so nice. I should not write that down, perhaps. I am sure Mama was never naughty, though.

Rose told me a most awful, naughty thing. She says that when she put Papa's napkin across his lap, she felt his thing and it was stiff! I did not tell her that he kissed me in the cupboard and that I felt it, too. Besides, it was probably only a big key. Aunty Jane asked me if he felt my bottom in the dark. I said, 'Oh no, of course not', but I don't remember now. It was too quick. I did not mind him kissing me. I used to sit upon his lap, but now he doesn't seem to like me doing that. I put black stockings on last night. I have new garters, too, and they are pink.

Aunt Jane said something rude about my pony. I never thought before of looking there. It is a very big one, though, and gets all leathery sometimes. 'It is Nature, do not be afraid of it', they said. The saddle rubs me in-between my legs and makes me feel all hot sometimes. Aunty Muriel says that is good for me and that I should keep my bottom moving back and forth like when she puts her tongue there underneath. Rose was in bed with them last night. I listened and I heard her moans. I am glad that she is naughty, just like me. I do not feel so bad about it now.

Phillip's Day-Book

There is no escape for me in my own house. Perhaps there never was-perhaps I am a prisoner in myself. There is both mockery and affection here which tosses me this way and that. I am pursued, entrapped, and know not where to turn, and spend much time upon my study couch in dismal thought while laughter sounds beyond, bites at my mind and makes me feel more churlish than I know myself to be. My writing has ceased. Even to me my manuscript appears more wooden that I thought it once to be. I read it no longer through my own, discerning eyes, but horridly through those of Muriel and Jane who tempt me frequently to write that which I will not do.

“Women have limbs, my dear, have lips. Portray them as they are and not as dummies such as may be seen in a dressmaker's window', I am told.

I loathe myself that I argue with them on this score, but silence cannot always be maintained. They have their tricks of making me reply by questions that appear at the first speaking innocent, and yet in truth are quite insidious.

'Can you not describe a woman's lips?', asked Jane. At first I would not reply, but upon her asking me again I replied in irritation that of course I could. Such is the writer's art, I said.

'Indeed? Describe mine, then, or Muriel's-or Sylvia's even. All lustrous, velvety and warm-a touch of honeyed moisture here and there. You see-I have no art with words such as you claim to have, yet I can say such as you do not write. As to a woman's thighs…'

'Please stop! I will not write of immoralities', I said as bleakly as I could.

The hour was late. She wore a peignoir. Through its folds-its misty folds, if she would have it so-I discerned that she wore little else save for her stockings and a pink chemise. With each movement of her legs I saw that which a gentleman should never see-that blur of sinful dark between her thighs. Her bosom, too, was almost visible.

'You are in purdah, Phillip. Some females should be, but males should not'.

So speaking, she moved round behind my back, for upon her entrance I had got up from the couch and taken a plain chair. In the moment that she became all but invisible, something dropped down about my face and wound itself about my neck, half throttling me. It was the silk cord from her peignoir. Frantically I strove to free it from my neck, begging her to cease this foolish game. My fingers tried to hook behind it, but could not.

'For heaven's sake, I cannot breathe', I gasped. The chair being hollow at the back, she pressed her knee through into me. At the same moment, Muriel entered, closed the door and advanced upon me. She, too, wore a peignoir and, beneath, had nothing on save for her gartered stockings and a pair of buttoned boots that reached up to her knees. My eyes bulged at the wicked sight of her. Once more I tried to claw the cord away. The pressure of Jane's knee was fearful in my back, and Muriel held a long cord in her hand.

In a flash, I was their prisoner, for Muriel swiftly knelt and tied my legs against those of the chair. O perfidy, O wretchedness! She knew too well I could not kick a woman thus, nor even beat her with my hands, much as I wished to. Vainly I strove, not using violence such as they, but all in vain. Jane twisted the cord with one hand and with her other seized my hair-I strangulated, gasping, helpless in their hands.

No, no-I will not write of this-a deed so terrible, so lewd. May the heavens fall upon them for their wickedness. I was left weak and stunned by that foul act that brought me to a pitch of miserable submission to their wills. My hands tremble even now to think of it.

Jane's Day-Book

What a splendid penis Phillip has! The dear, poor idiot, he tried to hide his pleasure at the last, but could not, fell to sobbing like a boy while Muriel drew on his reservoirs and sucked his sperm with her naughty quim. Had she so not exhausted him, I would have taken my toll, too. The chair bumped, though. I feared that Sylvia would wake. Besides, the floorboards creak too much in Phillip's study. We must not do it there again.

How wildly did he shake his head (or try to!) when Muriel cast her peignoir off and opened up his trouser buttons, nurturing his tool until it stood up stiff and ready for the game, the knob all purplish and sleek and swollen such as a healthy, eager female loves to see. The faint blue veins stood proud around the stem.

'And now, my love…', said Muriel. His legs being together, she was able to straddle him while standing up still and let her titties swing across his face, reaching beneath to fondle and position his stiff tool beneath the rolled lips underneath her bush.

Ah, how he gurgled, whined and whimpered when she did! Not hurrying, she then caressed his balls which were slightly squashed and so appealingly looked even bigger than they are, the skin as equally polished in that posture as his knob.

'In a moment, in a moment Phillip', Muriel said, as though he too were eager for the fray. So clever she can be sometimes in saying such-the gentle voice, the luring touch. 'Twas she in truth who first seduced dear Uncle Reggie and then took me upon the bed with them.

'No!', Phillip managed to moan when at the last the pinky-purplish lips of Muriel's love-slit swallowed up his knob. Her eyes half closed, knees trembled, at that naughty and exquisite contact. Still she took her time, though, and sank very slowly down until his prick was sheathed and her bottom settled on his knees.

'Oh, it is nice!', she murmured. I could feel her head and loins a-swim as mine would have then been, and knew exactly how her cunny squeezed upon his embedded penis.

I had loosened the cord by then around his neck and laid my hands upon his shoulders, bent and kissed my sister on the lips. Our tongues toyed. Both her arms enfolded him and thus could hold his pinned.

'My god, my god!', he moaned-the foolish man who thus was led into such a Paradise!

'Give me a good fuck, Phillip, for you know you want to', Muriel breathed. Her hips worked gently up and down. I saw-just saw-his cock emerge and then sink up again into the clinging enclosure of her folds, his foolish face strained far away from hers.

'Do not hold him any longer, Jane. I will pump him; I will make him come', she said. Her voice was strong. She meant to milk him deeply, and she did. So hapless was he, though, and so excited (though he would deny that to the last, I'm sure) that he came too soon for her- before she even came herself.-'Oh, you fool, you fool!', she sobbed at him. I knew from his expression and the squeezing of her eyes that his thick jets were flooding her too soon.-'We shall have to teach him better, Jane', she said, but stayed upon him, wriggling her plump bottom all the time upon his knees, and he a-moaning like a long-lost child until at last it slipped out limp and wan, and dribbling at the nose, as Uncle Reggie used to say.

'You will sleep better now for that', said I to Phillip who did not seem to know or care that I untied his legs. He looked just like a mannikin whose strings have all been cut.

'You beasts-O filthy beasts', he moaned as we two left. Muriel says that he will have to pay for that remark. I cannot blame her. He must be somehow set upon the path of true voluptuousness!

Deirdre's Day-Book

I lock my bedroom door now when I leave. Richard must not get in and hide again. I am determined to rescue myself from my perversity, in his respect at least, no matter what dear Eveline might coo.

But what a rich occasion Friday was! I know not the truth of all that happened, which itself excites. I had expected Claudia to be a rather brittle, hard young thing. Instead I found her small and slim and quiet-indeed, I read anxiety in her eyes. Her dress was a pretty blue, speckled with white as was the broad-brimmed hat she wore upon arrival. Long, white lace gloves adorned her arms up to her elbows and, this being afternoon, she naturally kept them on, which made her look adorable.

As to her form, she is superbly sculpted round her nether parts which are accentuated by her long, slim legs that form twin columns for her bulbous orb. Her nose is aquiline, eyelashes long, the upper lip quite small, the lower full and pleading to be sucked upon.

We were but five-two married pairs and I. The husband of Claudia-Ewan by name-is glib, of medium height, and reasonably fair to look upon. He is such a man, however-as I felt-from whom one would not buy a horse without making sure that all its legs belonged to it.

“This is my love. She has a mood of sweet compliance on her-do you not?', he asked and kissed her cheek, which small caress in front of others brought a flush upon her velvet skin.

'Please, Ewan, do not speak like that. I have no knowledge of what you speak, nor have our friends. We cannot stay but half an hour', Claudia said, and looked a little like a hunted doe, taking a seat as though it might not bear her weight.

'We were speaking of love, my pet', said Eveline, 'before you came, that is. I vowed to Deirdre here that she would see love flourish this afternoon. Let us-for fun, of course-make a small pact that at least we shall all kiss before you leave'.

And at that a sudden silence fell. All eyes were on poor Claudia whose white-gloved fingers twisted every way and whose blush was like a lantern in the room. She affected not to have heard and cast embarrassed eyes around as if for the first time conscious where she was.

'Well, my pet, what do you say?', Ewan asked bluffly, “Who shall kiss you first? Shall I kiss Eveline? Will you? Or shall you throw your arms about the neck of Maurice who has longed to hold you these long months?'

Frozen in attitude, Claudia simply stared at him as if he were not real, as if indeed the whole thing were a dream to her. It was Eveline then who suggested I kiss Claudia first.

'And so we shall proceed, each one to each', said she while Claudia sank back into her chair and clutched its arms. She was truly speechless for the moment, at which I curiously felt impatience with her and not solicitude as I first felt that I might have done. She was not, after all, a virgin, nor was she immature.

The room stilled for a moment. All eyes looked at me save Claudia's which were fastened somewhere on the floor.

'I would like to kiss her very much', I said. I meant to add, 'if she agrees', but out of some perversity did not.

'She likes to have another's tongue between her lips', said Ewan, at which Claudia seemed to wake from out of her daze and squealed that she did not. How foolish that cry was. A more learned young woman would have said she did, and perhaps added something to the effect that she would permit no more than that. We cannot gauge the responses of others, however, by our own.

'Ewan, I am leaving-on my own', said Claudia desperately and got up, which I suspected was the last thing that she should have done, and I was right, for on her rising Maurice got behind her, seized her waist and pinned her arms down at her sides and told me literally to have at her.

Amid such screams as then were uttered, Eveline said calmly, 'Wait! Let me undo her dress', which she proceeded to amid long howls from Claudia. Her dress unbuttoned to the waist. She really should have known better than to wear one such. Her lovely tits were scooped out then from her chemise and showed her nipples, brown and small.

'Oh god! Oh god! Someone must save me! Help!', screamed Claudia while Eveline-forgetting my election to be first-bent and applied her warm lips to those sensitive points that, under the ministrations of her lips and tongue-soon rose up to sharp points while Claudia mewed and tried in vain to twist in Maurice's commanding grip.

Ah, that I had a writer's art to delineate, describe in perfect detail all that followed then. I confess to having savaged the young woman's mouth. I could not help myself. Alas, so often have I said that to myself, and yet it's true. She slobbered sobs and blurted protests underneath my searching lips, I palming her firm breasts while Eveline knelt beside the three of us and got her drawers down.

'Turn her a little, Maurice!', she commanded, and Claudia's half-smothered wails then turned to moans as her pussy yielded to the tongue that lapped with such small succulent sounds as put me in a frenzy of desire. Her moans were weakening by then. At last she acceded to my flickering tongue.

We shall all have you now, my sweet', I murmured to her lax, warm mouth.

'Play with her Deirdre. She will soon be ready for the cock', said Eveline and, rising, took her dress off, presenting herself corseted and stockinged only. It was I who attended then to Claudia's muff, finding the honeyed stickiness between her thighs. Her knees were trembling. Maurice held her still. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ewan take his boots and trousers off and Eveline playing with his prick, he fondling her bold, naked bottom cheeks, the two locked in an amourous embrace, at which Claudia needed to be supported more, for-seeing them-she sobbed most fearfully, though mingled with her sobs were other strains that one could not help but recognise.

Claudia then began at last to reach orgasmic bliss despite herself. I lapped her steadily and felt her salty spurts while Maurice twisted her neck round and seized her mouth-she utterly unable to resist.

Ah, what an orgy followed! Moaning her despair, Claudia was then bustled, wrestled, carried-oh, I know not what-to a sofa where, with bottom up, she received the burning, throbbing stave of Maurice's prick between her bottom cheeks. A long minute did he labour even to get his swollen crest within her tight, rebellious hole. She cried, she pleaded, even clutched my arm, but finally the rod was worked right in until his balls brushed to her bottom's bulge.

'No, no, no, NO!', a score of times she sobbed while Ewan mounted Eveline on the floor in such a position that the wicked pair could perfectly well, with worm's-eye view, witness the buggering of Claudia who afterwards, as it transpired, had refused to receive her husband in that wise.

Was this, then, a revenge on his part? Was it real? Or is she an actress of first rank? I confess to never having seen real tears from her-would have expected such if it were 'real', by which I mean to say was unrehearsed and thoroughly unexpected by the girl. She acceded to him after several manly thrusts and ceased to struggle, though her hips moved not to aid his pistoning of her fine, rumptious little bottom.

After he had come, withdrawn, she slumped down on her tummy, hid her face-would not be spoken to and lay like one who has gone to sleep of a sudden in a stranger's house. The two on the floor had separated meanwhile, lay replete.

'Poor Deirdre-only you remain unsatisfied. The men, though, will recover soon', said Eveline, legs open boldly to our gaze.

I wanted her, in fact, to vanish-Maurice and Ewan, too, and to talk to Claudia, so much did I wish to know if she had been genuinely ravished or whether I was meant to be spectator to a play. I believe that, had I stayed, I would have known. I had a sense indeed that in some way I had been used. I merely smiled and shook my head and retreated to the hall to don my hat and gloves. No one, I noticed, called out after me. I expected Claudia to, in some strange way. She could scarcely not have realised that the curtain had not descended on her bottom yet.

I am left thus in some curiosity, and feel-although I think it an illusion-the eyes of Eveline on me from afar, though to what end, what purpose, I cannot guess.

I need a male tonight. O let me not be tempted-no!