Anonymous - Muriel

'With Roger?'

'Yes. I will not even look at him, I swear-will only look into your lovely eyes, and you will suck my nipples while he does, make me to lie there, wriggling as I shall…'

'No, stop!', I burst away from her, was moody once again. I did not have it in me to explore such things, I said. I put my back to her again and flushed. I felt myself to be upon the edge of a crevasse and swayed. I wanted to run out, and yet to stay. Once more she came to me and held my waist, my bottom pressed against her belly then.

'Don't go', she pleaded softly, 'Come upstairs'.

I shook my head. Her hands cupped both my breasts. I fought the wicked thoughts I should not have. My nipples came to points beneath her palms and prodded through the fine cloth of my gown. I leaned my head back, sighed, and closed my eyes.

'The man is up there, though', I said.

'Yes, Celia, he is. Come-please obey'.

Jane entered then, put down a tray, and looked at us and asked, 'Is she all right?'

'I'm not', I wished to say, but Muriel said, 'Yes, of course she is. We are taking her upstairs just as I said'.

'No, please!', O treacherous my weak and pleading voice, my feet that stumbled in between the pair! The hall, the stairs-how broad they had become! I pressed back feebly, but they led me on. The landing came to us and I began to cry, beseeched them softly as the bedroom neared.

'Oh, lovely tears, my love!', said Muriel and pulled me in. My sobs brought on my weakness more, I swear. The bed received me, down my drawers came once again, my skirt piled up about my waist, all done so smoothly, quickly.

'Please!', I begged, was shushed and then Jane left and returned in a minute with the naked male, blindfolded as he was, and chained and collared as a dog might be. Of course, I dared not speak lest he should one day know my voice again! My legs were skewed apart, he came between and settled on me heavily, but had his head held up and could not kiss.

It was Muriel who groped his pego, guided it within. I strained, I hissed out. In it slid, sleeked up within my nest and held, his balls beneath my bottom couched.

'Perform now slowly in the lady!', Jane said, holding taut his lead. My mouth was then absorbed by Muriel's. I knew not whether it was night or day. All was deep darkness, whirling tongues, the shunting of his cock within my quim. All was delirium, shame of excitement-even my own heart cannot dissemble all that I then felt. Upon his sperming me, he uttered a deep groan and loosed the heavy pellets of his come in such abundance that they flowed in one deep, creamy stream within my nest.

'What a good girl you are!', said Muriel afterwards, and held me like the lost one that I felt I was.

Muriel's Day-Book

Dear, youthful Daisy! I have stirred her well. She has the devil in her more than Sylvia. The latter is the quieter one, but she will make her way all right. And as to Celia, she walks upon a brink, yet so do I in more ways than I count, as things progress.

'Because you love her, so you wished to make her cry indeed!', said Jane of her, and gave a little sneer. She sees a change in me-I know not what. It was true, I said, and added that we did the same with Phillip, after all, to which she conceded I was right.

Daisy did well. I told Jane so.-'Well, it is Sylvia's turn', Jane said. I shrugged and did not answer her. A week ago I would have said to take her in to him. Do I grow older, old? Oh, surely not! I thought of Celia's warm tongue, her pulpy mouth. What curious fancies take one at such times.

'I shall take her in if you do not', said Jane. She held my hand. We stood as people in a likeness do, stared out into the garden and saw nothing there.-'You're in a curious mood', she said.-'Oh no, I'm not!', I said. We laughed and kissed. Today there is an absence of desire in me to do other than to bed with Celia and Roger both. I told Jane so and asked her why. She searched my eyes and looked away.

'You wish to escape', she said to my surprise.-'From what?', I asked. She shook her head, looked worried.-'I don't know', she said. We put our cheeks together and stood quiet. My old spirit returned when Sylvia went up tonight. I said to have her father stand again.

'I know. All right', she said in an old-fashioned way. I could not help but listen. They were very quiet. I heard the chair squeak, that was all. Ten minutes later she came out and went into her room, said naught. Jane went into him and returned after a long, long interval and said he was 'in fine array'. He had not come, was dying to.

'Be sure he doesn't, Jane', I said.-'Oh, you ARE strange today', she said, and went back into him and closed the door. Poor Phillip, how he groaned for all to hear! Rose asked if she might go in Sylvia's room. I said she might. I heard them whispering together. That will do no harm. All seems distant from me at the moment. Very curious! My mind dwells in another house. I must rid my mind of fancies about Celia and Roger. It is quite absurd. Do I love them both or do I seek protectiveness? I hardly know myself at all.

Roger's Day-Book

It was dark in her room. Dammit, I could not help myself. The curtains were drawn, the lamp was out. I blundered to her bed, felt a bare leg. She lay there naked and her bush was moist.

'There are riders at night', she said. Was there delirium? Mouth upon mouth all of a sudden then. I pushed my trousers down-was deep at fault. My prick sprang out as hard and firm as I have ever known it be. O fearsome rushings of our breaths, O sweet douleur of entering her nest, the bumpings, heavings, and her bottom sleek and wriggling on my brazen palms again. This time the turmoil and the storm carried the bridges all before it in the dark. Warm, wet and seeking caves of mouths, legs locked, arms locked, her honey trickling down my threshing cock- and bursting, O it burst, I burst and flooded her in a gigantic whirlwind of desire, she sobbing, drawing on my prick until my last, small pearls were spent, the jets gone on before, absorbed. And say goodnight with languid tongues, then-hesitating ('Yes!', she moaned), plunge in again and fill her spermy cave anew until all breath was gone from us, and we like stranded ones upon a shore, her slim legs wide apart beneath my own. And Celia returned, and it was light. How could it then have been so dark, or did I sleep and dream it all? My trouser-gap was rimed with white, dried sperm where I had buttoned-up again.

I tell myself I dream it. It was dark. Those heavy curtains that let in no light, save for a searching, sun-pierced slit. Say that I dreamt it, that my mind's awry. Hot points of nipples at my lips. Another guides my pen today. I am possessed and know myself to be.

Celia's Day-Book

Sometimes when all is quiet, too quiet, there brushes at the mouth, nose, eyes, a silence like to cobwebs. So it was when I returned, my heart a-bursting as it was. Roger, like a shipwrecked captain, stood within our doorway with his trousers off.

'Changing', he said, and I said yes. His prick was pendant, glistened in the light.-'Roger, I want to tell you, to confess', I said. He backed away and let his trousers fall. They crumpled on the floor. His boots were off.

'No, do not tell me for I must confess to you, I must. I want…' His voice trailed off, he looked bemused. Daisy was in her room, he said. He sounded anxious, and I knew my guilt the more. He had not known what to do in all the waiting hours, I told myself, and threw my arms about his neck.

'Confess-let me confess', I said.

'No, Celia, do not-for if we both-if we should both confess…'

“What have you done but wait?', I asked, and cried against his shoulder as I spoke. We had both sinned, he said. I knew him to mean that he had acquiesced in my dire sins, but to allay his fears said that I understood.