Venus in the Country

Chapter eleven

“Then we are all friends,” Pamela declared boldly once Helen had promised never to raise her voice or quarrel with her sister again. “A kiss upon it, for I swear that nothing that shall transpire here shall pass beyond these walls,” the dear girl continued. Thereupon, laying Helen back on her bed, she cast her arms about her and placed her sultry lips upon those of her charge.

Confounded by the unexpectedness of the embrace, Helen stirred fretfully, but the insistence of Pamela's mouth proved quite delicious. Wearing only a chemise and stockings, Helen's thighs were fully bared to the excited view of Sir Richard. It seemed by pure chance that Pamela's forearm should so brush the hem of the fine batiste garment as to raise its hem higher and so permit him an even more enchanting vista of the shrouded motte which pouted so appealingly between those dazzling thighs.

Suddenly, however, Pamela appeared to become conscious of Helen's unveiled state and rose with a merry laugh whilst ensuring by apparently awkward movements of her hands that the girl was no more fully covered than she wished her to be.

“Oh, heavens forgive me, for I have stolen the very kiss your dear Papa might have wished to take and treasure for himself,” Pamela declared, “and truthfully I have so many things to do that to tarry with you both would be a sin. Sir Richard, come, you must kiss your daughter, for then we shall know your forgiveness complete.” Saying which, she afforded her master such a sly wink that his heart pounded as much as his doughty tool was already doing beneath his breeches.

Had Pamela stayed then, a sultry single kiss might well have been exchanged between the pair, for Helen had a flushed look such as many young maidens wear when they are particularly excited about something. In this instance, Pamela did not doubt what that object of Helen's excitement might be and hence decided to intrude no longer upon the lubricious denouement that her blithe spirit now longed for. That it was for Helen's good she never for a moment doubted, fearing otherwise that she might fall early to the lecherous whims of Captain Dancer. Closing the door upon the pair, she waited but a moment to hear the creaking of the bed as Sir Richard cast himself upon it and then made her way to such duties as she could think of to perform.

A bewilderment of pleasure seized Helen as she found herself held within the strong arms of her Papa. With a febrile movement of her hand, she made with due modesty to cover her sweet thatch of curls, but Sir Richard's hand engaged hers in the same instant and brought it with fervour against the upstanding rod that threatened nigh to burst his breeches.

“A kiss, my pet,” he breathed as if there were nothing untoward about Helen clasping his penis while they so engaged themselves. Helen's eyes rolled, for it seemed to her now a discourtesy to refuse that which had been thrust into her hand.

“Oh, Papa!” she exclaimed with some apparent surprise, though the words were all but smothered beneath the manly lips which settled upon hers. Quivering as if with ague, Helen felt her lips parted. Their tongues engaged. Trembling deliciously, she gripped the vigourous shaft of his fervour more ardently as, with a certain delicatesse, Sir Richard raised her chemise higher. Sucking her sweet tongue into his mouth and drawing upon it in such wise that Helen almost fainted with pleasure, he attempted to part her thighs but found them at first resistant.

“Dear Papa, it is very naughty,” said Helen, who wished above all not to be seen to be too forward at such a moment.

“Delightfully so,” responded her Papa, whose fingers gently parted the lips of her grotto and slid upward-along the oiled groove until they found the nub of her desire, thereby causing her to buck the warm cheeks of her bottom most agreeably. Indeed, although she swore to herself afterward that she had no such intention, Helen's errant fingers began to grope in the intensity of their rising passion for the flap which would uncover that which she now sought more intimately to caress.

“Ah, what delights!” Sir Richard groaned, for no sooner had the flap fallen than the breech lay open, and his sturdy tool throbbed in all its glory in his daughter's palm. “Rub it, but not too quickly, for you shall have greater pleasure of it yet,” he uttered.

“Yes, Papa,” Helen replied dutifully, though she could scarce speak for excitement. At each moment, their lips met anew in a little torrent of kisses that quite made her head swim, though not more so than the delirious agitations of his fingers around her cunny.

“Dear Papa, how excited you make me feel,” she exclaimed, artfully raising her chemise higher so that the perfect snowy orbs of her breasts were exposed to his ardent eyes. As indeed his lips, for no sooner did Sir Richard espy the delicious jellied mounds in all their glory than he seized with his mouth upon her brown nipples whose erected state proclaimed her ready for the sacrifice.

More wanton now, Helen breathed her pleasure in little gasps while passionately exploring with her fingers not only her sire's large prick but the appendages beneath which dangled heavily on her palm.

“Ah, Papa, what will you do to me?” she whispered beneath his mouth, having sensed already that a certain naivete would please him all the more.

“Fuck you, my pet,” proclaimed Sir Richard who saw no need to bandy words about the matter now. “Remove your chemise, my love, whilst I divest myself of these tiring breeches and this shirt.”

Little did it occur to him how quick the transformation had been in his elder daughter from blushing maiden to ardent bed companion. In the intoxication of the moment he was content, whilst undressing, to gaze upon the nubile figure which Helen displayed as she cast off her chemise. Naked in her stockings, she presented indeed a sight such as might have raised the cock of an archbishop. Her cunny was well furred for her age, the dark curls massing in the crispest of triangles about it. Her hips had the fullness of young womanhood, her thighs were plump without merging into fatness, and the slender curves of her calves and her sweetly rounded knees were themselves an enchantment.

Emboldened by passion and a wildness of desire, Helen reached impatiently for the weapon which her fond Papa presented now fully to her view as-naked as she-he lay with her in rapture. Toying more skilfully now with the object of her desire, Helen asked softly between kisses-“Is this fucking, Papa?”

“By no means, my love, for I have yet to mount you,” declared the ardent knight whilst caressing the plump cheeks of her warm bottom. “There are several ways in which we may take our pleasure, but first I shall lie upon your belly and insert my prick slowly in your delicious cunny. Then, by slow and rapid movements between us, you will truly become intoxicated with delight. And then each of us in turn will expel our liquid pleasures-you upon my cock and balls and I within the velvety clinging of your slit.”

“Oh!” answered Helen with a long quiver. Unknown to him, she had already spent twice by virtue of his digital manipulations and the thought of entertaining his prick at the same time was as spoony as she could imagine. “F… f… fuck me then, Papa,” she murmured, quite unaware of the immediate effect this would have upon Sir Richard, who had never thought to hear the words pass her lips. It seemed to him, in fact, the most exciting invitation of his life. In a moment, he was upon her exquisite form, whilst the crest of his prick announced the fervency of his desire to breach the magic grotto.

In this, Helen assisted him by raising first one leg and then the other as Pamela had taught her to do. The breath whistled in unison from their very nostrils as the exquisite conjunction occurred. With a squeal of wonder, Helen felt the long thick peg of throbbing flesh ease slowly up between the soft and clinging walls of her slit.

“P… P… P… Papa!” she moaned and might have struggled momentarily had Sir Richard not manfully cupped her delightful bottom, raising it slightly off of the coverlet whilst he inserted half the length of his thruster and held it there.

Pamela, he was pleased to think, had already taught him much and he was pleased to hold it there during the brief, wild moments that the upper part of Helen's body threshed.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she gasped again and again, though in truth she was endeavouring to catch her breath rather than expel it. Ever mindful now that her pleasure must at least be as great as his, her Papa continued to hold her wriggling bottom while amourously sucking upon each of her nipples in turn. Schooling himself sternly, he then commenced easing his piston within her half-inch by half-inch whilst Helen's soft bubbling cries filled the air. It was bigger within her than she had even thought it in her palm, but quite magically she was absorbing it in a manner that heightened her desire second by second to have it all.

“More, Papa!” she moaned as the fretful movements of her hips and bottom assisted him in his endeavours.

“To the hilt!” Sir Richard groaned. He felt her thighs enlace his hips, her calves crossing themselves firmly. Their tongues danced together in a veritable orgy of pleasure, and then with a rattling cry he was fully lodged, his balls nudging her bottom.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Helen choked yet again. It was quite different from Pamela's tongue, but it was all too exciting for words. Indeed, there were no more words for long moments as their lips and tongues engaged and Sir Richard began to shunt his hips slowly. Still cupping her bottom, he felt it swinging gently on his palms as Helen assisted in his delight. By moving herself, she could feel the mouth and the interior of her cunny gliding back and forth along his stiff prick. Clutching her arms tightly about his neck, she loosed her first liquid tribute in little rivulets of pleasure that Sir Richard could not help but feel sprinkling and tingling around his embedded penis.

“My pet, you are coming!” he exclaimed in wonder.

“Go faster! Oh, what heaven it is! Papa, you are fucking me!” responded the enamoured maiden, who would not have stopped then even had all the archangels floated in. Her bottom squirmed and rolled on his palms, her legs tightly clenched about him as they jousted now in earnest.

Sir Richard's pulses pounded, his senses swam. Never had he had a tighter or juicier cunny than this, and one which seemed at every thrust to suck greedily upon his cock.

“I shall come!” he choked, scarce knowing the words he spoke.

“Yes, Papa, you must! Oh, how delicious!” responded Helen, who cared not either now what they said so long as they were engaged in doing it. All thoughts of the world beyond had long passed entirely from her mind. The sturdy loins upon her worked their wonder. Jolting and gasping, she expended her pleasure for the third time, soaking her sire's balls even as the first shoots of his bliss sped up his cock and ejected their spermatic bliss in long, throbbing shoots within her, causing her bottom to writhe with ever more pleasure while the sweet nutcracker action of her lovepurse drew every drop from him and their panting cries of pleasure filled the room.

“Oh, Papa!”

“Oh, Helen!”

The heavings ceased. The last drops of their pearly essences were expelled. Still clutching one another dreamily, a blissful silence ensued. Pecking at her lips, Sir Richard murmured at last his divine pleasure even as his partly shrunken tool slipped from her oozing grotto.

“It was so nice, Papa,” Helen murmured hopefully, cuddling into his arms whilst they lay side by side. “It will be our big secret, shall it not? I shall not tell Mama or even Miranda.”

“Heavens, no!” declared Sir Richard in only the mildest tones of alarm, for he knew her well to be merely comforting him. Her young womanliness was now long apparent to him, as were the exquisite pleasures of her warm curves.

“Nor even Pamela. She must not know, must she?” Helen asked, for truly it was such an exciting thing that had happened to her that she felt she must tell someone.

“I think not, my pet,” Sir Richard answered, though in less assured tones. To his delight, his cock was already stirring anew against her thigh. With errant pleasure he fondled Helen's delightfully plump bottom cheeks, parting them delicately so that his finger might probe the puckered rim of her bottom hole.

At the first touch, Helen giggled and squirmed. “Oh, what are you at?” she asked softly, for Pamela had already inserted her finger there while tonguing her, and the sensations she had received had sent her quite to heaven.

“How tight and warm you are there, my sweet,” he answered, though not daring yet to divulge to her that he meant sometime to have her by that route also. Helen jiggled her bottom impatiently. He was touching all around, but he was not putting it in as she wanted, though she dared not tell him so. Slyly her fingers sidled down and clasped his cock, which had already assumed threatening proportions once more. Her thumb passed lightly over the crest, causing Sir Richard to quiver with lust.

“You little beauty, I shall have you again now!” he groaned. A soft answer, and he was upon her, gliding a trifle more easily than the first time into her now-spermy grotto though it clutched him no less tightly for that.

“Your bottom! By heavens, I shall have your bottom next!” he grunted when they were in the full throes of it.

“Yes, Papa,” assented Helen, her eyes rolling wildly. Her belly was melting again and she was coming. It would be too big for him ever to put it into her bottom, but it would please him to think that he might. Closing her eyes and rocking back and forth under him, Helen surrendered herself to the opportunities of the moment. There would be lots more to come now, she felt sure of it.