Anonymous - Emily - Or, the voluptuous delights of a once-innocent young lady

Arnold uttered a gasping sound and infiltrated his warm, swollen knob into her offered aperture, at which her back dipped. Artfully, her bottom balled more thus, encouraging his entry. Peering then, I saw three inches of his cock glide in, and she a-wriggle, though not with much force. 'No, no, no, don't', she wailed. The cry was token, though. His mouth was slack and wobbly and I cared not for the sight of it. James had looked flushed but quite angelic when he fingered up my bottomhole. I had permitted that. I had known the first sweet stinging of the probe that brought a rich and sickly feel of pleasure in its wake. Had Papa not come in, I might have yielded. 'T… t… t… tight!', came Arnold's groan. He grimaced, Fiona moaned and bit her fist. 'Get into her, you fool, and work her well', said Constance. 'Ah!', he uttered sharply and, with that, rooted himself in her delicious derriere until I sensed his balls were hanging underneath her nest. 'Mama, Mama!', Fiona squeaked. Her hips squirmed, jerked a little, then were still. 'Play with her titties now-bend over her. She has to do it now-it is the rule', said Constance. She released her sister's hips and beckoned me to take my hands away in turn. Then she embraced me, drew me aside to watch, her warm cheek pressed to mine.- 'Come sideways, you will better see', she said, and gathered up my dress in folds to feel my garters and my thighs. Arnold was puffing as he worked his loins. His palms scooped out Fiona's melons, nipples sprouting from between his fingers.

'OOOH-WOOH!', she sobbed, his belly smacking to her bottom as they threshed, the long stiff penis almost full emerging and then ploughing in again. I watched. My eyes were hot, my lips were moist.

SLAP-SMACK!-SLAP-SMACK!-the moans, the choked-off cries, the hot cork gliding in and out. 'Have you watched before? You have not- have you-have not watched before?', asked Constance softly, and pulled up my dress to bare my bottom and my thatch. My mouth did not wish to kiss hers, did not wish her sharp saliva, nor her hand that cupped the plump mound of my quim, and yet, and yet, my lips were under hers, she easing fingers back and forth to make me tremble.-'What a luscious honeypot you have, dear Emily. Part your legs the more and flex your knees. There, there! You cannot help yourself! Who can? Now look again. He'll cream her bottom soon. The little witch will suck him dry, I know. Quick, kiss her Emily, the while he does!' 'WAH!'

This time the short, soft cry was mine. Pushed, bundled down, face under Fiona's-my legs a-dangle on the floor-I drew the girl's mouth down upon my own. O sweet it was, so small, so soft, so moist. Her tongue slid like an uncoiled spring between my lips, her moans resounding as she bucked, and Arnold's fierce, quiet hissing heard above. SPLATT! smacked her bottom into him. Then Constance knelt and thrust her face between my thighs and brought her tongue to soothe around my slit, causing my knees to hang upon her shoulders as she did. Ah, whirl of memories-the pants, the moans, the liquid sounds we made! My bottom bounced on the bed's edge. I flooded the warm, seeking mouth of Constance while Fiona gargled, twirled her tongue to mine, then uttered a thin cry of animal delight as Arnold groaned and loosed his sperm deep up her clenching bottomhole.

'Children! What are you playing at?', I heard. And no one moved, and no one moved. 'We are playing, Mama. Go away!', said Constance from between my legs. 'I see you are, indeed. Do not be long. Tea will be shortly served. Or supper-is it supper? I am now not sure'. The door closed, and we were alone again.

'Go away', said I. I had forgotten for a moment that the room was not my own. Constance rose and wiped her lips. 'You will soon be the same as us', she said. I turned my face away and brooded at the wall, heard a faint plopping sound as Arnold drew his penis out. Released from off the cork, Fiona sighed a sigh of some contentment and then settled down, moving her tummy like a cat upon the coverlet. Arnold was bidden to leave. I wished him to before I turned my head in his direction. Rustling trousers, picking up his boots, he slouched without, his ammunition spent. Too much had stirred in me. Remembering where I was, I left the room without a word and found my own abode, though it felt merely like another ornate cave, a place of strangeness, as the whole house was. Making to close my door, I felt a hand beyond against it, opened it anew, and there was Jane. 'PHEW!', she laughed and threw herself upon my bed, eyes wide and wanting me to ask that which I did not wish to ask.

'Jane, I wish to leave'. 'To leave?' She sat bolt upright, hands behind her hips and stared. There is no comfort here. Do you find comfort here?', I asked, then voices sounded from below and I moved to the window and opened it with the same wan hope that one awaits the returning of a carriage late at night when a loved one is despaired of. Some madness in me asked if it were James or Papa, come with rescue ropes and mattresses to leap upon. 'Who? What?', asked Jane, and I thought her, in our sisterhood, to be of the same frame of mind, but one she would not bring herself to speak. I waved my hand and shushed her. Down below a gentleman of fair appearance stood, conversing with a gardener. 'Soor-why, yes-you goes along the same road as you took, turns left by Frencham's barn-stands on its own, it does-goes half a mile up there, and there you are, and Bob's yer uncle as they say, soor. Thankee, soor', the servant uttered, pocketing a coin, whereat the gendeman was about to turn away when I leaned out and called 'Hallo!' 'Madam?', he responded, and his eyes looked bright the moment he looked up. Jane tugged at me and giggled, but I would not yield. 'Are you going to the Hall?', I asked, making him to blink against the sky. 'The Hall? By jove, I am! Would you then come?' 'If you can accommodate my sister also, sir-yes, gladly. We have need of a conveyance. Can you wait upon us just five minutes?' 'Five will be splendid. Six would be eternity, from what I see of you'. 'Emily, we cannot!', Jane flustered as I drew the window to. “Then you may stay. I will not a pass a night within this house, nor would Mama allow you to, if she but knew'. 'Oh, Emily, but…' 'No buts, now, for I mean to go. Quick, get your reticule, your cloak. Our clothes will be sent on-they have to be'. 'Oh, Emily!' Her cry was such as made her seem my junior then, but with a flourish of uncertain eyes, wild hands, she went, and met me on the landing in a trice, cloak over arm and reticule tight held, as though it might be snatched. 'They will see us, Emily!'-and panic in her voice. 'What if they do? We are not prisoners, are we? May we not go out to greet an old friend passing by? Follow me quietly, dear, and make no sound'. Rustling of skirts! How loud they sound in circumstances such, though one has no consciousness of them otherwise. The hollow, armoured men stood waiting on a battle that would never come again. The door to the drawing room was but ajar. We heard the small, smug clink of china and then hastened to the far front door. It rattled as I opened it.

'See who that is', called Hilda's voice. 'Oh, God!', said Jane, and ran and ran with me along the gravel sidepath to the gentleman who stared in some surmise at our approach until I lightly touched his arm, and then he smiled. 'Someone is beckoning', he said. I turned and saw a maid who waved her arm uncertainly. 'She is inopportune', I said. I felt it my bon mot, and had my arm possessively clasped in turn. 'Are we not all!', he laughed. His eyes were in mine as he spoke, not at my bosom, nor my thighs. The maid squeaked something, like a nightjar that has lost its voice. I waved to her as though to say, 'Indeed! It is a good day, is it not?', then we walked on to where his carriage stood. Introductions were effected as we got within. His name was Harry Marminter. I judged him to be thirty-five or thereabouts. He had a jolly air on him, but yet beneath a strain of seriousness. He was beardless, with a small moustache, and as fair-looking as a man might be who does not swell his paunch with beer, nor carry a red nose for whisky's sake.