Millicent coloured up and would have denied the matter, but fighting inwardly with herself under my stepmother’s mild but enquiring gaze, she finally confessed that such might be true.
“She would not know how to handle him even so,” she remarked with evident jealousy in her voice.
“Has she need to do so save as pupil to yourself?” replied my stepmother craftily. “Oh yes, I know, my dear, there is the little matter of your husband. We are aware of his intrusiveness. I think him ruttish, too, if you will forgive the term.”
“He is,” declared Millicent flatly, “but… but what did you mean by pupil?”
“I mean that there are arrangements to such matters. I suspect him of wishing to mount your daughter-in-law. He has perhaps fondled her already to her dismay-perhaps even her aggravation. Therein lie embers to be kindled, Millicent.”
“Oh! You would have him possess her?” She all but sprang up and I saw jealousy once more in her expression.
“You would have him interfere and your precious prize lost again? How shall you keep Clive in training once he has returned to the marital fold?” Thus my stepmother challenged back and Millicent put to silence for a moment.
“I had not thought of it thus,” she mumbled.
“Then you must. Let there be no hesitations on the matter. Leave things in my hands, my dear, and all shall be well. You will have not one male servitor, but two. Yes, your husband as well! Do not tell me that he cannot be quelled-put down. I know better. Do I not, Clara?”
“Oh yes, Stepmama,” I was glad to intercede. “Papa is most docile now, as is my brother,” said I coyly to Millicent whose eyes were as saucers upon hearing that. Her fingers worked together with a nervous excitement. She sought to know more, but my stepmother was adamant that practice preceded idle chatter, as she put it, and that to begin with Jennifer was to be left to our hands.
“She will not mind, I am sure, spending an evening alone with Clara and I,” she declared. Thus-though further talk followed which spun around the subject rather than entering into it-all was settled, at which Millicent took herself upstairs to attend, as she said, to Clive. She was not long about it and in no time at all brought him down, once more in his own attire. She would have been loving with him, had him sit beside her and hold his hand, but this was not my stepmother’s way. In minutes he was set to cleaning our shoes, but his activities no longer interested me for the nonce. It was Jennifer I was looking forward to. She made no difficulties, nor asked any questions, about being left alone with us that evening while the more closely related trio went to dinner.
“What a strange boy he is-how he adores his mother,” my stepmother remarked to her when they had gone. “He is not a boy but a man,” Jennifer answered, yet her eyes looked troubled.
“A boy at heart, my dear, as we within ourselves are still girls. At school, I do recall, there was as much kissing between girls as between boys and girls. I have ever thought it nice so to be. Have not you?”
A pretty colour came into Jennifer’s face. She made seemingly to reply while I tumbled down as though casually beside her on a chaise-lounge.
“I do not know,” she said thickly.
“Oh, but I think it’s nice,” said I quite bubblingly whereat my stepmother laughed and said, “That is because you want to kiss her, you little minx.”
Jennifer said “Oh!” in surprise and turned to face me. Her lustrous full lips, short aquiline nose, large eyes and flawless skin all attracted me. “What?” she responded in soft surprise while I flung my arms about her neck in girlish and impetuous fashion so that before she knew it our mouths met and merged in the most intoxicating fashion. I felt her shift uneasily despite that. She would have stirred, perhaps sought to break the embrace had my stepmother not then sat down on the other side of her, pushing her shoulders back against the wall and saying in a merry tone, “How sweet to see you both kissing!”
At that I think Jennifer grew embarrassed at such open display and raised her hands, though weakly, to fend me off. My tongue, entering her mouth, had found her own and was there wantonly indulging itself. A gurgle escaped her and the pressure of her hands weakened, my stepmother settling matters by drawing her sideways and shifting her own body so that the bemused but already partly excited young woman found herself lying prone. Perched on the edge of the long, brocaded seat at her side, my stepmother pressed upon her shoulders with a deliberation that she must have felt for she strove to rise but was impeded.
I, kneeling over her then, gazed down at her flushed face lovingly. “Jennifer, let me tongue you,” I murmured, to which she replied a startled, “WHA-AAART?” and cried, “Oh, let me up!”
“She wishes to tongue you,” my stepmother said as though explaining something to a child. “Let her.”
“Oh! B… b… b…!” Jennifer stammered madly, but already her dress was being raised. Beneath as I had suspected were two of the most elegant legs I had ever seen, swelling up from well-turned calves and dimpled knees to lustrous thighs that gleamed above her stocking tops. Rosetted garters clasped the sheened silk tight. A cry escaped her and she wriggled but was held.
“Clara will tongue you-be still!” she was commanded and with that my stepmother scooped one arm beneath her knees and drew them up so high that they all but touched her tummy. At the same time she held her chin in quite a forceful manner with her other hand-a trick I was to learn, for it holds the “victim” helpless, though I did not wish her so, nor my stepmother.
The posture, with her legs drawn high, exposed her completely and in a trice while she squealed and tried to bump her bottom all about, her drawers were loosed and with some quick fumblings on our part, pulled down. Ah, what a treasure came then to my eyes! Her bush was neither sparse nor thick but perfect in its texture, forming a delightful triangle upon her Venus mount. Between the curls and tendrils of stray hair her cunny peeped, its lips quite small-delicious to the tongue.
“WHOO-WHOOOO!” the first cry, as though of amazed pleasure, rang from her as I protruded my tongue and roamed it all about the succulent dell. Her legs kicked, drummed on my back and then were still. I flickered in my tongue and licked, my nostrils tickled by her downy curls. She moaned, hips twisting, then I sought her spot-the little rosebud of desire. How quickly it perked up! A trilling sound escaped her throat. Her muskiness and feminine odours flooded my face with the warmth of love.
“THEEE-OOOH! No! NAH! Not there!”
My fingertip had sought and touched her rosette which she evidently would defend. I roamed the tip around the puckered rip and dipped it in while twirling then my tongue. Another cry escaped her and her hips churned.
“DOH-DOH-DOH-DON’T!” she moaned, but all was too late. Holding her chin still and taking her slumbrous mouth, my stepmother began kissing her despite her seeming sobs of wilfulness. Her tongue sought to retreat, as I afterwards learned, but the passion of the moment was already overcoming her. Feeling the gentle lowering of her legs, I let them rest upon my shoulders and bore their weight gladly in my ministrations to her pleasure. I had worked the first joint of my finger by now into her bottom hole, making her squirm fretfully, yet her emotions betrayed her for no sooner was she thus plugged and my finger and tongue working in unison than she sprayed my mouth and chin with salty bliss.
To my great pleasure her tight warm bottom then began to work up and down as though urging me on. I circled my tongue around her risen bud and heard her throbbing moans as I did the succulent sounds of their tongues and lips. Again her belly shimmered and again she came. Twice more did her tribute inundate my lapping tongue and then with face besmirched by her sweet outpourings I let her legs glide down and rest upon the seat, there lying splayed.
“How she came!” I murmured-my stepmother straightening then while Jennifer lay inert, only the faint quivers in her pale belly betraying the echoes of her pleasure.