Again, Miss Martin, though a graceful woman, was not so graceful in all her movements as Frances. And to sum up, I may say that both women were fine specimens of different types of ripe feminine beauty. But in my opinion, Frances had a more thoroughbred look than the governess.
After completing their measurements, they stood face to face, closely inspecting each other’s charms; and the whiteness of Frances’ skin seemed to attract Miss Martin! She laid her hand on Frances’ bosom saying: “What a beautiful white skin you have got I wish mine was like it”
Frances laughed. She was very proud of her alabaster-like skin; but she said:-untruthfully, I thought-“Oh, I think the tint of your skin is prettier than mine!” Then she put her left arm round the governess’s waist and gave it a squeeze, at the same time feeling her bubbles, and pinching the big red nipples with her right hand; saying: “I admire your titties very much.” The governess smiled, started slightly, and her eyes began to shine, but she made no remark. Frances next put her hand on the lower part of Miss Martin’s belly and played with the hair; twining the long locks round her fingers; remarking: “What lovely long hair you have got here! I never saw anything like it before, on any woman.”
Then she began to tickle the “spot” with her forefinger. A strong tremor passed over the governess from head to foot: her breath came and went; her big titties rose and fell; her face grew flushed, and her eyes sparkled; and suddenly throwing her arms round Frances, she kissed her on the lips, exclaiming in a hot whisper: “Oh! Mrs. Markham, you are exciting me awfully! Oh! how I wish you were a man!”
Frances embraced her; and the two women clung to one another; each one grasping with both hands the cheeks of the other’s bottom; their bosoms touched closely, and they rubbed their bellies together; the hair of their cunts mingling, while they kissed each other on the lips.
Poor Miss Martin was evidently full of desire for a male; but Frances was perfectly cooclass="underline" she was merely playing with the governess; partly out of devilment, and partly to amuse me.
After a few seconds, she pushed her companion to the sofa and extended her upon it on her back: then, acting the part of the “man,” she stretched out Miss Martin’s legs, and separating the lips of her cunt, inspected the pink orifice; saying with a little laugh: “Why, the passage is almost dosed up!”
Next, she got on top of her, and clasped her hands under her bottom. Then the pair went through all the motions of a man and woman poking. Frances worked her bottom up and down, pushing her cunt at each stroke against Miss Martin’s cunt; while that lady moved her bottom in the feminine way. And I think she must have spent: for I saw a queer look come in to her eyes, and a slight quiver passed over her. She was evidently quite ignorant of “tribadism,” and everything of that sort. Frances, had she liked, might have enlightened her. But she did not After a moment, the woman sat up. Frances was still cool and collected; but Miss Martin was not, and was palpitating. She blushed, and exclaimed: “Oh, dear me! What have we been doing! I’m afraid we’ve been very naughty. It was nice, but very unsatisfactory, and tantalizing. Oh! I would give anything at this moment to be in the arms of a vigorous man!”
I felt very much inclined to step out and offer myself.
After a moment, she went on: “Do you not miss your husband very much at night, Mrs. Markham?”
“I can’t say I do,” replied Frances demurely; but glancing up at the curtains, with a twinkle in her eye. She knew that in a very short time she would have a “husband” on top of her.
“I am surprised to hear that. You seem to be of a warm disposition,” observed Miss Martin.
Frances laughed, remarking: “I think you also, have a warm temperament.”
“Yes,” said the governess. “Unfortunately for myself, I have, I often find it very hard to keep straight-”
“It «very hard for us widows,” said Frances, sighing, as if she was really lamenting the difficulty of keeping straight.
Miss Martin continued: “I would get married again if I were a widow. But I have never heard of my husband’s death; and he said he would come back some day. Though if he does, I will not live with him. He is a bad man, and he treated me shamefully.”
“But,” she added shyly, after a little pause; “he was a strong man, and he used to embrace me most vigorously. Sometimes he ‘did it’ to me half-a-dozen times during the night! I wonder how I escaped having a child.”
“Ah, my husband was a very different sort of man! He could hardly ‘do it’ at all,” said Frances, in a sorrowful tone of voice. She was a capital actress.
“Oh, that must have been horribly tantalizing,” observed Miss Martin. Then she said: “I wonder you don’t get married again.”
“Perhaps I will some day or other,” replied Frances, laughing. Then she stood up, saying: “I feel inclined to dance. Let us have a waltz. You shall be the ‘gentleman’ this time, and yon must hug me tightly.”
Miss Martin laughed, and getting off the sofa, put her arm round her “partner’s” waist in “manly” fashion; then they began to revolve briskly to a waltz tune hummed by Frances. They were both good dancers; and it was a most charming spectacle to see the two shapely naked women waltzing gracefully round and round the room; their beautiful bubbies undulating, their broad hips swaying voluptuously, and the movements of their legs.
At last they sat down, flushed and panting; I thought that all the fun was over: but Frances had not finished her little game. As soon as she had recovered her breath, she put her hand on Miss Martin’s bottom, and stroked it; saying in a tone of admiration:
“What a splendid bottom you have got; so plump and so firm. I thought I had a big bottom, but yours is far bigger in every way.” The governess smiled, and looked very much pleased. “Yes. I have got a big bottom,” she remarked complacently. “My husband used to admire it very much.”
“Well, it is worthy of admiration,” said Frances. “I believe men like women to have large bottoms. But, talking of bottoms, puts me in mind of whipping. I suppose, during the years you have been a governess, you have birched a good many little bottoms.”
“Yes, many a one. I have birched girls up to seventeen years of age.”
Frances laughed, then she asked, in the most innocent way:
“Were you ever birched when you were a girl?”
“Yes, very often.”
“Were you really,” said Frances, as if she were much astonished. “At a boarding-school, I suppose?”
“I never was at a boarding-school. I got all my birchings at home. I will tell you. My mother died when I was ten years old, and I was brought up, and educated entirely by my father. He was a stern, hard man; and whenever I failed in my lessons, or committed an offence, he used to lay me across a chair, bare my bottom, and birch me severely. He kept me under discipline until I was seventeen years of age; and he sometimes flogged me till the blood came.
“But I was a strong-girl, and could take an ordinary birching with considerable fortitude. Of course, I used to cry and writhe, but I never screamed unless he birched me hard enough to draw blood. He used to whip me with a full-sized birch rod; a very different thing to the little toy you use when you whip the children.”
“Well,” said Frances, smiling, “toy as it is, I don’t think you could bear amp; dozen smart cuts of it, without crying out.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could,” said Miss Martin, with a little laugh.
“I’ll bet you a dozen pairs of gloves to one pair, that you don’t take a dozen cuts in perfect silence,” said Frances, laughing.
“I’ll take the bet. I want some gloves, and I am sure to win them. Get out the toy,” said the governess, also laughing.
Frances went to the cabinet for the rod, and as she passed close to the curtains she turned towards them and smiled mischievously. The artful creature, knowing how fond I was of seeing a woman’s bottom whipped, had regularly humbugged the governess into allowing herself to be birched.