Anonymous - Venus in the Country

“Yes, fuck me, but go softly and slowly about it. I shall count to a hundred and you must not be done even then.”

“What a treasure you are! Is this how you were taught?”

Sir Richard's cock had slid within. Pamela sighed and gripped it. To her distinct pleasure, he did not begin to move it at all.

“No, sir, far from it, but I have let my mind move about it.”

Whereupon she conveyed to him with little whispers all that Mr. Rumple had done, imploringly him the while to slide his cock in and out of her very slowly. Being on his second course, Sir Richard found it not too difficult to obey and listened entranced to Pamela's account of her “conversion.”

“Good heavens, the fellow certainly settled you quickly-done on both sides, as it were!” Pamela's rider chuckled. “And then you let your thoughts move about it, as you say?”

“Truly, sir, just as you may move about on me! Oh! Not so fast!”

But all was lost. Her head swirling, Pamela received both the thrusts of his tongue and his cock with abandon. Not a word had passed her lips about Lady Bromley or the Captain, nor ever would. Indeed, in that moment, Pamela thought of nothing else but the lusty joys of fucking to which she vowed to devote herself.

Quite exhausted, Sir Richard lay prone upon her at last and received the comforting of her arms the while he nibbled anew at her nipples. Finally, when they rose and tidied themselves, he confessed to her that she was verily the loveliest mount he had ever had.

“Well, sir, I shall try to please. All such things are a secret, are they not, even though Society knows of them?”

“Yes, that is true, though I had not thought of it before. It is not spoken of among the gentry here, but is well indulged for all that.”

“Yes, I was taught that by Mr. Rumple and I am sure it is true. Oh, sir, may I take the birch, or do you wish to wield it yourself upon their bottoms?”

Sir Richard cleared his throat and blushed. A certain confusion seemed to come over him. Both the girls' bottoms looked at their prettiest in their white drawers when they were bouncing under the twigs. His desk had always been the perfect place for it, but he had not given it to them of late.

“I-er-I am sure you will make their bottoms bounce yourself if the occasion is required.”

“Yes, sir, I will, for they are frisky sometimes and need a little taming. I shall do it slowly, of course, so as not to hurt the poor dears too much. Perhaps if they, too, do not learn their words from this dictionary, I shall accord them each a round dozen-on their bare bottoms, of course.”

“Herrumph! Ah, yes, naturally, but-er-I think it best they do not peruse the dictionary, Miss Rumple. You see-er…”

Pamela opened the dictionary quickly. Her eyes fell at random on a page. A slight blush stole over her features. “Pine-prick,” she read.

“I believe I understand what you mean, sir. I shall be most selective.”

With a little smile, Pamela made her exit. She clutched the dictionary tightly. If she left it lying around, the girls would be sure to peep within out of curiosity, and, if they did, she would not be there to know.

After all, secrets were of all sorts.

The Reverend Edmund Hart, the Vicar of the Parish, had never married. He dwelt mostly among books, but had lately suffered so many pangs of the flesh that he feared temptation and stayed much within the vicarage, attended by his housekeeper, Carrie, and his sister Agnes.

Agnes was a pleasing-looking woman, slightly plump of figure, who would have entertained a more social life had it not been for the brooding presence of Edmund, who seemed to have drawn too much within himself. It was a great pity and Agnes did not know the cause of it. He was frequently testy with her, which she did not put down to age since at forty he was in the prime of life, four years her senior. As for Carrie, she was a quiet woman whose presence was rarely felt.

Thus encumbered by overmuch quietness in the rather gloomy vicarage, Agnes responded with joy when she received a letter from Lady Bromley.

“See, my dear Edmund, we are invited to her next fancy-dress party. Would it not be fun? How shall we dress?”

Clearing his throat, her brother grumbled to himself for a moment. Such occasions presented numerous temptations. He knew several of the ladies among his parishioners who attended such events at the manor, and it was said that they were not always as seemly in their behaviour as they showed in the pews on Sundays.

“What nonsense, my dear, it would be foolish- indeed, flighty-of us to go.”

“You are forgetting, Edmund, that Lady Bromley has bestowed several gifts upon the church and is likely to contribute a considerable sum to assist in its restoration. It would not be proper for us to refuse.”

“Very well, if you will have it so, but I intend us not to stay overlong at such carousals. Besides, how ridiculous if we have to dress up. I cannot imagine our costumes!”

“I have already thought of it, Edmund. For one evening, let us cast off our cares and make a little merry. 'Twill do no harm. I shall go as Maid Marian and you as Robin Hood.”

“What? Parade ourselves thus? What nonsense! I forbid it!”

Agnes, however, ignored his forbidding and, being a good seamstress, set to work quietly to make their costumes in woodland green and brown. They were traditional, she comforted herself, though she got rather mixed up and made tights for both of them instead of a modest smock for herself. Thus, when she first showed her brother his intended attire and paraded before him one evening in her green tights, Edmund's reaction was one of great disturbance.

Not having made such close acquaintance with the curves of Agnes's bottom before, he was rather moved by their weighty but firm plumpness. Even so, his shock was the greater for the disturbance he felt was not only in his mind but in his breeches. The rotund orb whose deep cleft was displayed by the close sheathing of the material made Edmund feel quite dizzy.

“Edmund, dear, are you not well? Do you not like it?”

Finding himself confronted by the prospect of having to say both yes and no simultaneously, Edmund endeavoured to avert his eyes. However, he did not want to hurt Agnes, who was clearly proud of her handiwork.

“Excellent, my dear, yes-most becoming.”

“Very well, then, I am so glad. Now you must try yours on,” said Agnes, rather to the horror of her brother who knew that donning the tights would display his arisen manhood much more than his hand was successful in shielding it from her glance.

Indeed, rather to her confusion, Agnes had not entirely failed to notice the sudden protruberance in Edmund's trousers for, being at his leisure, he had cast off his jacket Her blush rising exceedingly, she could not keep her eyes off it. Yet, being a woman, and a rather frustrated one, at that, she could not but help being pleased that the plumpish, Venus-like curves of her figure should have produced such an arousal.

Edmund's cheeks had gone alternately pale and red, she noticed.

“Oh, Edmund! Have I put you out? I will change my clothes immediately. Perhaps the costume is not so becoming as I thought Oh, dear, and I have put so much cutting and stitching into it!”

Whereupon, to conceal her blushes, Agnes cast herself into her brother's arms in such wise that her figure quivered quite like jelly against his. For, truth to tell, Agnes had found the costume so tight that she had been forced to discard all apparel beneath it. Hence, what Edmund found himself clasping was an alluring bundle of warm flesh protected only by a thin layer of material.

“I think perhaps, yes-ah-you had best remove it, my dear,” he choked, for the large knob of his cock beneath his trousers was making itself distinctly felt against her belly.