I took every possible precaution to escape being seen as I returned to my room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHORTLY AFTER I HAD RETURNED to my room, my aunt and mother came in to announce that my father was coming to pay us a visit. They also told me that Berthe was not feeling well, and had been put to bed. They added that she was not seriously ill, and would soon be better, but that it would be preferable for me not to go to see her.
The announcement aroused my curiosity, and in two shakes of a lamb's tail I'd decided what I should do. I knew that my aunt and mother were to spend the afternoon in the village with the friar, visiting a poor sick lady, and that Kate was going with them to take a basket of clothes for her.
While the ladies were conversing, I studied them attentively and saw them in a completely new light as a result of the confessions I had overheard.
The dark clothing they were wearing acted as a foil to their appearance, accentuating my mother's blossoming countenance and my aunt's tightly laced figure.
Each was as desirable as the other: one, whose virginitywas as yet unsoiled by masculine contact, holding out the promise of undreamed-of voluptuousness; the other, whose exciting maturity and conjugal experience with an imaginative husband had led her through a maze of sensual caprices.
I was washing as they came in, and explained that I had tried to go to bed, for in reality my pretended illness was beginning to bore me considerably.
My aunt, who had never seen either my room or the library, wandered into the latter. My mother hurried off to the kitchen to supervise the preparations for lunch.
Being alone with my aunt, who now seemed doubly desirable to me, excited me no end. But I was still feeling the effects of my session with the bailiff's wife, and I realized full well that I would easily compromise my plans by being over-hasty.
Margaret, after having inspected the library, had approached the table and was standing there looking at what was on it.
She could well have made some interesting discoveries. The volume "O" of the encyclopedia was lying on the table with a book-mark stuck in the page dealing with onanism. I had penciled a question mark in the margin beside it.
I heard her close the book, and then the Atlas of Anatomy, over certain of whose plates she had lingered for quite some time.
So I was not surprised, upon entering the library, to find her cheeks a burning red.
I pretended not to notice her embarrassment, and said to her in a quiet voice: "You, too, must get bored sometimes, auntie dear. The priest who lived here before had quite a collection of interesting books dealing with the problems of human life. Why don't you take some with you to your room?"
I took two and slipped them into her pocket: Marriage Unveiled and Love and Marriage. When she affected reluctance, I added: "Naturally, this is between you, and me and the lamp-post; we're not children any longer, are we, auntie?" And I suddenly seized her and gave her an emphatic kiss.
She had her hair arranged in a pretty chignon, and the nape of her neck was extraordinarily lovely. Pretty chignons and necks have always had a tremendous effect on me, and the series of resounding kisses that I planted on my aunt's neck intoxicated me completely.
But Margaret was still under the sway of her recent confession. She pushed me away, but not harshly, and after darting a final glance in the direction of my room, she left, carrying the books in her pocket.
In the course of the afternoon I heard the friar and the ladies leave for the village. I decided to go and find Berthe and ask her what had prompted her to feign illness to get out of confession.
But such was not the case. She was in bed and really appeared to be sick. My visit cheered her up enormously however.
My blackguardism was not long in awakening. But when I tried to reach under the covers to touch her, she turned away and said: "No, Roger, I had my period the day before yesterday."
"Ah, your menstruas," I said, "so you're no longer a little girl, but a woman now. And do you know that I've also become a man, Berthe," I added proudly. And unbuttoning my trousers I showed her my pubic hair and the bared head of my penis. "And I've done it too, you know. Though I can't tell you with whom."
"You've done it," she queried, "done what?"
So I explained coitus to my attentive sister. "And do you know what," I concluded, "Mama and Papa do it too all the time."
"Not really! How disgusting!"
But since her tone implied exactly the opposite, I added:
"Disgusting? Why were two sexes created then, Berthe? You've no idea how good it feels, much better than when you do it alone."
"Yes, I always did enjoy it more when Kate did it to me than when I did it myself. The day before yesterday, oh, really! I thought I was in heaven! Then Kate said to me: 'Now that you've come, Berthe, watch out, you'll be having your period soon.' That very day I had a stomach-ache, and all of a sudden something wet ran down my thighs. When I saw it was blood I was frightened half out of my wits. Kate burst out laughing and went to find Mama, who came and looked at me. 'Get yourself to bed now, my Berthe,' she said, 'you'll be having these every month from now on for three or four days. When you stop bleeding you should change your nightgown, and be sure not to wash yourself before the bleeding's stopped. By the way, you shan't be wearing little-girl dresses any more' I'm going to begin wearing long dresses like Mama and auntie," Berthe concluded proudly.
"Come on, Berthe, let's do it, " and drawing her close, I hugged her.
"You must be careful not to hurt my breasts," Berthe said. "I'm very sensitive now."
But she offered no protest when I opened her night-gown to see her little breasts, which were just beginning to blossom.
They were a pair of gently sloping hillocks, which reminded me of Psyche's or Hebe's. But they already had the classical form, and were firm, culminating in two little rose-colored sweetmeats.
I whispered reassuring words to her and she willingly let me fondle her and even suck her titties. In fact she was becoming excited.
After a few unconvincing protests, she let me see her Lady Jane, but only after she had rolled up her blood-stained nightdress.
She already had more hair than I. A little watery blood was trickling along her thighs; it was certainly not the most appetizing sight in the world, but I was too excited to care.
She was holding her thighs tightly together, but my probing finger soon found her clitoris. Under the pressure of my hand, her thighs began to spread.
Finally I was able to get my finger into her cunt, but not very far, for she drew back. I pressed against her hymen, in the middle of which there was already a little hole. Berthe gave a short cry of pain, and tightened up again. By now worked up to a high pitch of excitement, I undressed hastily, lifted my shirt and climbed on top of my sister with the intention of forcing my member, which was hard as a rock, into her cunt. Berthe protested weakly, began to cry, then gave a sharp cry of pain, when I went well into her vagina. But her short-lived pain soon appeared to melt into a feeling of sensual pleasure. Her cheeks were hot, her pretty eyes shone bright, her lips were slightly parted. She clasped me in her arms and began to respond to my movements.
Before I had finished, nectar had started to flow from her cunt. Her eyes, half-closed, were fluttering nervously. She cried out, but her cries were of pleasure. "Roger, ah! oh! Ro-oger. I… I… aah!" She was completely beside herself with pleasure. I had just plucked my sister's cherry.