Anonymous - Arabella

I could scarcely believe my eyes. In every fleeting second I feared discovery by another guest wandering from their room, or worse the appearance of my aunt or one of my cousins. Fate was kind to me, however, for there came no interruption to the proceedings. Despite her fiercely protesting whispers, Helen's skirts were raised up high.

Ah, what a voluptuous spectacle presented itself! In the fashion of the times her stockings were richly patterned and of a dark blue shade. Sheathing the curving columns of her well-turned legs they rose to mid-thigh and there were ringed by broad garters. Above, the vista was even more enticing, for in affecting split drawers, as she had done that evening, the victim's posture showed in all their appealing nudity the two plump cheeks of her bottom which the broadly-separated halves of her garment exposed.

A last febrile attempt by her was made to rise. I know now of course that it was but a token movement. My uncle's hand had in any event fixed itself strongly upon the back of her neck while, with his other, he groped at his breeches.

Heavens! I confess that it was not the first time that I had seen the male organ, though the few I had glimpsed hitherto had been limp and soft. The upstanding girth and length of this one was beyond all my previous experience.

I judged its veined majesty a full nine inches in length and some five of circumference. The ruby head was full swollen, gleaming beneath the glittering light from the chandeliers. Full rigid, it menaced the deep crevice which presented itself so lewdly to him.

A muffled cry-quickly choked back as if by practise of discretion-sounded from her throat as the crest of my uncle's staff inserted itself within the inviting valley. The lady's hands clawed for a brief moment at the polished top and then her face sank sideways-fortunately in such a manner that she could in no wise raise her vision to mine, even had she been able to discern me up on the dark stairway.

“Too…too…too big, Harold!” she moaned.

A grunt came from her enamorata. Further fumbling ensued and then his breeches slid down his trunklike thighs, betraying to my gaze the sight of his large testicles in profile beneath his manly organ which had but nestled its head twixt her bottom cheeks.

“Nonsense, Helen, you have taken it before.”

His knees bent slightly and he seized her hips, relinquishing at last his grip upon her neck. A further moan came from her. The table trembled visibly, heavy as it was, the surface shimmering in the light.

“OH!” moaned she, though it seemed scarce a complaint but rather a petulant utterance of compliance.

With that the thick shaft urged in and evidently sank some three inches within her puckered rosette, causing its recipient to screw up her eyes and bite her lower lip. I knew not then of course whether she was in agony or in the throes of sweet enjoyment. Her large bottom endeavoured to wriggle sideways, but was held.

“Ah, dear love, what a bottom, what warmth, what tightness! You are as fetching as you were ten years ago,” my uncle growled. His features strained and grew ever redder. A tall, bulky man, the power of his loins was all too evident to me-not to say also to Mrs. Witherington-Carey who received inch by inch his powerful prodder. For a moment she appeared to grit her teeth. Her eyes had a look of anguish that might also, as I even then surmised, cloak an uprising feeling of passion. A little cry from both and the shaft was fully embedded.

Patting her flanks and caressing her stockinged thighs, my uncle thus held her, savouring no doubt the plump rondeur of her nether cheeks against his belly. Her shoulders hunched, relaxed, and then she uttered a whimper.

“Part your legs, dearest-straddle them-hold well. Is it not delicious?”

Helen's eyes and lips opened simultaneously. She was as one entranced. A gentle movement of her hips sufficed then to show me the pleasure she was evidently sustaining. A soft humming sound issued from her throat.

“Do not move it for a moment, Harold. Kiss me. Ah, you beast!”

Her neck slewed round, her tongue distinctly protruded. Bending full over her as he then did, their lips met. Words that I could no longer distinguish came between their passionate kisses. That they were lewd I doubted not for her bottom began to move in little jerks back and forth.

It seemed impossible to me then, of course, that she could receive and contain it there, but I was to learn myself of the particular pleasure of this mode. Small puffing sounds were uttered by both as my uncle in turn began to work his penis steadily in her most secret orifice. The distinct sound of the brazen smacking and slapping of her bottom to his belly came to me. His shaft emerged a full three-quarters and then rammed in again, the motion being repeated on and on while the most fevered twisting of her hips occurred.

Their breaths came faster, his balls swinging steadily under the lower bulge of her derriere. Their moans of pleasure rose. Thrusting one hand down beneath her belly, his fingers searched and rubbed. Immediately her shoulders and head lifted the more. Her expression was one of ecstasy.

“C…C…Coming! AH! I am coming, Harold! Faster!” The table creaked. Some instinct told me that my uncle, too, was attaining the peak of his desire. A trembling of his legs became apparent. His hands clasped her hips more loosely. Rising up from over her, he hung his head back.

“H…H…Harold! Oh, fill me, yes! What floods!” Her bottom thrust to him aggressively, receiving all to the very root while-had I but known it-the rich juice from his balls was already impelling its leaping jets within the sucking tube of her bottom. Groaning, he made a last effort to eject the final spurts and then collapsed for a moment upon her back.

Thus they remained still save for slight twitchings of their loins while the last tinglings of bittersweet pleasure surged through them. Then at last-as if gathering himself-my uncle rose and withdrew the soaked shaft of love with a positively succulent sound, causing his victim to tighten her bottom cheeks and huddle into the table until he drew her up in turn.

Swivelling about in his arms, she afforded him a final kiss of some tenderness.

“How wicked you are to do it to me thus, Harold.”

“How wicked you are to let me,” he responded with a laugh. Continuing to hold her skirts up as he did, I could see the well-furred bush of her mount and the gathering limpness of his tool against which it was lovingly pressed. I dared stay no longer. At any moment they might, I feared, turn to the door. Discovery would present such a horror as I could not face. Gathering up the hem of my nightgown so that I would not trip over it, I tiptoed to the top of the stairs, all thoughts of my earlier thirst having vanished. Fully dizzy with what I had seen, I felt a curious, warming moisture between my thighs as I neared my door and was aware that my nipples had risen, teased by the cotton of my garment.

I had left my bedroom door on the latch, but saw now even in the gloom that it was ajar. Some errant draught had disturbed it, I thought, though my mind was really too distracted for such matters and my pulses were racing still. Pushing open the door I gave a little cry which I endeavoured as best as possible to suppress.

Lying upon my ruffled bed was a white-robed figure that stirred and rose up at my entrance.

It was my cousin, Elaine.

“Oh, what a fright you gave me!” I gasped.

Quick as a flash, Elaine had bounded up from the bed and closed the door even as I faltered in the entrance.

“Shush! Do not make a sound! How you are trembling! Did I frighten you so? I could not sleep, Arabella. Forgive me, do, but I am so restless.”