Anonymous: Muriel

It was an accident, perhaps, that his out-reaching hand should brush my bush. Upon such small things are new destinies contrived. I choked an exclamation back, went past him quivering horn that faint touch and entered the dark room. He followed me. I dared not squeal or raise my voice-or so I told myself who sought to argue with the hypocrite in me. Or nay, I say the hypocrites in all of us. I jerked, I strained at Richard who had raised his nightgown as we fell in silent struggle on the bed, he fearing me to cry out, and I him to groan out too loud in the pleasures of forbidden fruit. Long did I struggle. Did I struggle long? I felt like the rebellious schoolgirl that I once had been who had to take the birch across her bottom first before she offered up her bottom sobbingly and took the mastering prick within her nest.

A score of times I must have whispered, 'Richard- no!', but oh, far-faint, mouth kissed, I then succumbed. I hear our nostrils hissing still as there we threshed, his legs between my own-an unreality at first, and yet spellbinding were the jets of come that then extolled my own fine spurts of love till we lay lax, tongues circling, coiling, twirling in the weak, soft aftermath that sweeps aside all barriers of guilt and makes the loins to work in sweet reprise.

How strangely silent were we that first time, save for our gentle, hungry moans, and how my toes curled as he came!

'Go from me, Richard, go', I breathed. I wanted to run into that small room that bears the name Remorse, and yet I knew it would not welcome me, for it had never done before. Upon my second threading in the summer-house when I was seventeen, my aunt held me, rained kisses on my lips while the big penis worked its will and flooded me with warm, thick, gruelly sperm.

'You raised your legs up at the last and curled your toes when he was coming in your quim', she smiled. He rose, I saw that long, thick penis drooling, soapy at the head.

'Now kiss me once again. I'll make you come anew', she said. She smacked my thighs to keep them open while he looked, but then he went lest Mama came. There is no sin of it, my pet, provided that you like it', so she said.

I wonder now, but cannot help myself no more than I could then.

You are much loved', she said. 'Now you have taken his big cock a second time, you will again'.

I spoke of it with Adelaide. We rubbed our nipples as we spoke. How sweet the boldness that was on us then! Should I return to it? Last night with Richard on the couch, I heard my aunt's words once again that she had uttered in the hayloft the first time, when I had needed to be held.

'Please, don't! You can't! It's naughty-oh!', I squealed while the swollen crest sheathed itself into my squeezing slit. I kicked. My legs were raised, beat ever feebly on his back. Remorselessly the pulsing peg sank in until his balls hung down beneath my orb. 'I'll tell Mama!', I moaned, though it was to be my last cry of any comprehensibility. Thereafter for a moment I was dulled, was slowly lulled though by the motions of his prick, and finally grew passionate for more.

But in that cry I heard my aunt say as my bottom squirmed, 'Shush, darling, sin is half the salt of it'.

Sin is… love is… I do no longer know. The sofa creaked last night. Did Amy hear? I closed my eyes, dreamed Richard other then he was, or made myself to think so, but he cannot be. O fervency of Youth's desire that he could sperm my cunny twice without withdrawing, as he did. I mewed. My naked bottom slurred on the brocade, cupped on his firmly gripping hands.

'Again!', I moaned and heard my voice as if from far away and long ago.

Muriel Mansfield's Day-Book

We are to Phillip's then, and I look forward to it. He must be got out of his strange ways. He is, and always was, too quiet and taut, and lives too much within himself. Dear Deirdre, one cannot blame her for her flight, and Sylvia we wish to see again; she is such a darling little thing.

I shall be thirty-four soon. Am I getting old? I wish I were Jane, and two years younger. If we had been twins… 'But you look scarcely thirty', she reassures me constantly. My bottom has got fatter. I keep looking at it. Jane says it is 'firmly plump' and feels exactly as a woman's should. I hope that is a compliment. Neither of us have had a man for several weeks now, and quite yearn for it.

'We shall have to go without it, too, in the next two weeks', I said to her. 'Perhaps!', she said and wrinkled up her nose, crinkled her eyes and laughed her wicked laugh.

Phillip we will surprise at least, and Sylvia, too. I mean to kiss her much, and so does Jane. We cannot help our fondness for young girls. Had we not been made tongue-ready and cock-ready when we both ourselves were young… But still, it's lovely, and I won't complain of it.

Phillip's Day-Book

Am I never to be left alone? The descending of my sisters startled me, but was greeted with much joy by Sylvia, which underlined my sense of guilt that she is too much now alone, though Rose is often at her side and in her room. I am not sure of that relationship and said as much to Muriel last night.

Two pretty girls together make for pleasure, dear', she answered. Often she seems to have a double meaning in her words that I dislike.

They play games, I expect', I said.-'I'm sure they do', she answered back. She is a trifle plumper round the hips. I could not help but notice that. Her dresses, just as Deirdre's were, are far too tight for decency.

“Would you rattier that I took it off?', she asked when I remarked upon the low cut of her dress, the sweeping tightness of the lower half.

'Not, I would NOT, I said and went up to my room, feeling an angry flush about my ears. There was propriety at home when we were young. She never seemed to learn, nor Jane. I have closed my ears to scandals of the pair in which Deirdre seemed to revel. Mother was outraged once when she discovered Jane and Muriel undertaking 'Nature study' with Papa, and having little other than chemises on. He, I am sure, was as embarrassed as I would have been to have them in his room like that, he having wished to show them only his rare butterflies but for a moment, as he told Mama. Both Jane and Muriel ran then into the bathroom, saying that they wished to bathe. Poor Papa's face was quite suffused, for I know well how a man can blush in anger in such a fell circumstance. He had merely tried to educate them, as I told Mama. I had to interfere, for Papa would not answer her-had too much pride; I understood. A man must guard his morals often with a silent tongue lest he be not properly understood.

Sylvia shows herself to be more forward with her aunts now here. She enjoys her pony and insists on riding it with legs astride the saddle, though I have told her it is quite unladylike. She does not seem to realise that when she mounts and dismounts, one can see her drawers. She lets Rose ride the creature also. Gazing idly through the window, as I oftimes do, I was horrified to see that Rose wears no drawers, for she cocks her leg up high in getting on the pony.

'You must speak to her, or Muriel must', I said to Jane.

“No, dear, you are the master of the house. You cannot choose your duties, no more than a woman can. I will send her into you', she said, and smirked. I quite distinctly saw her smirk.

Then Rose appeared, I knew not what to say. I could not bring myself to use the word 'drawers' and so contented myself with 'insufficient clothing'. To my astonishment the girl replied, 'Oh, sir, it is the custom in the summer. We both leaves them off sometimes. The saddle is nice and smooth, besides. It does not scour our bottoms, sir, at all'.

The girl looked straight at me as she replied.

'It is not what I prefer', said I, whereat my daughter rushed within and said, 'Oh, Rose, come quickly! Aunty Muriel is riding now!'