Grace Wilkenson - The Family Swappers book two

"I trust Frank implicitly, Sylvie. I'm sure he only thought he was doing the right thing. He was following your orders, even though they were bizarre. He was responding above and beyond the call of duty. I'm sure he looks upon it that way. Don't forget, he was trained long ago in England to respond to the most unusual of circumstances with dignity and calm. You and I will try to forget about what happened. Certainly Frank already has!"

"Here we are, Mrs. Cassidy!" Frank said, entering the room with a tray.

The piping hot tea steamed from the pot as he set it down on the low coffee table in front of Sylvie, and she could not help looking forward to its warmth.

"As I recall, you take two lumps and a little bit of milk. Is that correct?" Frank smiled down at her, and Sylvie blushed.

"Yes," she replied, lowering her eyes. "Yes, thank you, Frank!" The man's memory was obviously quite excellent!

The hot tea tasted delicious, and Sylvie sat back, just a bit more at ease than before. She tried, however, to keep her arms in front of her, just in case her nipples showed too clearly. There were times when she wished she still wore a brassiere, and this was one of them. Some people just didn't understand that the times were changing.

"Well, Frank," she said, breaking into the long silence that threatened to become uneasy. "What a cozy place you have here. I really like it.

Tell me, how do you spend your time, now that you have so much of it?"

"Oh, I keep quite busy." Frank had taken a seat opposite Sylvie in a straight-backed chair that he pulled up to the coffee table. He drank his own tea with relish. "I work on my little gadgets… and then there's the book."

"The book? What book?" Sylvie asked. Suddenly everything inside her was listening, waiting for what the gray-haired man's answer would be.

"Why, the book about the Cassidys, of course!" he replied easily, as though she should have known all along. "I see where everyone's writing books these days, and in my youth I used to fancy myself a writer. That was before I went to training school, of course!" he added with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. Sylvie was silent. She couldn't think of a thing to say. It was all she could do to keep her hands from trembling on her teacup.

"Oh yes, I keep busy! I have a very modern tape recorder that I use to dictate into. It's the best way, I understand. Oh yes, I have a lot of memories already down on tape."

"I… I see…" Sylvie stammered.

Frank was thinking about how well his book was going. The Cassidys had been his life, and he knew more about them than about anything on earth. It would be splendid to have that fact acknowledged. He would become a celebrity in his own right.

"There's already a columnist fellow who says he'd be interested in helping me get the book published," Frank said quietly. He was watching young Sylvie Cassidy carefully. "Perhaps you'd like to hear some of the tapes?" he inquired.

Outside a siren was screaming, and a fire truck clattered past. Sylvie felt that sirens were wailing inside her head, that any second the terrible throbbing would burst from her temples.

"Yes… yes, I would like that," she said. A part of her knew that the danger was near, that it was in fact present, but another part of her dared to hope that there was nothing to worry about. Frank got up and started into the bedroom, motioning her to follow.

"This is my workroom back here," he said.

On legs that wobbled and trembled, Sylvie followed her husband's former valet into the room.

"There's something I'd like to ask your advice about, anyway, Mrs.

Cassidy," Frank said. "Won't you sit down on that chair there?" He pointed to a chair that was placed between the bed and in impressive bank of taping equipment that sat upon a long table against the wall.

Sylvie sat down. There was a deadness inside her, a numb spot that she sometimes had before she was going to be sick. I must not get sick now, she told herself. I must remain calm.

Frank reached into a cabinet and withdrew a reel of tape. He congratulated himself once more and was thankful for the twist of fortune that had brought the tape into his hands. He fondled it carefully, thinking back to that night. Frank's dormant penis began to pulse with life as he remembered Sylvie Cassidy's silkenly naked body.

She had pulled him to her.

"Frank, you've got a cock in there… You've got a good hard cock!"

She had to have it inside her, no longer satisfied by his own efforts to help flier get the gilded candle into the tightly clasping orifice of her golden-fringed pussy. Pushing him down on the soft rug of her dressing room, her mind crazed by the drug Erick had sent to her id the guise of medicine, Sylvie hod mounted his rigid and startled cock.

Frank seemed to feel that incredible sensation still, and he wondered how much of it Sylvie Cassidy remembered. His long cock throbbed excitedly as he recalled the tightness and the strength of Sylvie's yearning cunt, wrapping itself around his upthrusting penis as she bounced up and down on it. She had commanded him to thrust the candle into the tight nether hole of her anus, and he had tried his best to do so, while withstanding her forceful attack.

He could not deny that it had been pleasurable to serve Mrs. Cassidy in that manner, and when young Mr. Ron had entered, he too had felt the same way. Sylvie had been pressed between the two of them, her brotherin-law Ron and himself, at one point, and Frank had found her stretched and throbbing rectum a willing receptacle for his lustfully hard cock.

He remembered how much Sylvie had seemed to like having the two ramming, worming penises inside her at once, and it was then that Frank had ejaculated far into his employer's wife's buttock-cushioned anus, in the most powerful orgasm that he had ever known. When the youngest brother, Erick, came in, Frank was already getting hard again, and he was hoping that he might be called upon one more time to satisfy the outlandish craving that consumed Sylvie Cassidy's deeply tanned, honeyand-gold nakedness.

It was not to be, however, and Frank had thought it best to leave swiftly via the service door when Sylvie's husband, the senator-to-be, came in and found them all lustfully writhing with his lewdly drugged wife.

The entire story might have ended there, Prank thought now as he fondled the tape, had he not chanced to pass the open library door downstairs on his way to the back of the house. Something made him go in, and there he found the minute tape recorder on the floor.

His father before him had often told him that a man's chance often came but once in a lifetime, and if he is lucky enough to see it he must grab at it while he can. It had been a simple matter to borrow Morrison, the chauffeur's, taping equipment and to make a copy of the contents of the recording in his own small room then and there. He had done so and slipped the little recorder back exactly where he'd found it, and no one had ever been the wiser. Until now, at least.

Frank did not know what had made him do it. Perhaps the untoward events in which he had so recently indulged had changed his thinking so that he was able to foresee that the little tape recorder might contain something of value to him. He had not dreamed that it would be a tape of Sylvie and Erick, her husband's youngest brother, making furious and ecstatic love. It had been quite a bonus for the elderly valet to play this tape back to himself while the others were still upstairs working out their lusts. He had enjoyed hearing Mrs. Cassidy's groans of desire, and Frank thought how much company the little tape had been to him all these years. Why, prior to that evening he had been certain that his youth was gone. He rarely thought of such things. As a younger man, he had known many young girls, but none of them had matched Mrs.