Anonumous - The prodigal virgin

And now Marion did indeed flee as she saw Mildred’s hand shamelessly seek out the thinly covered sex of her spouse. Certainly the younger girl had been betrayed-by her senses as well as by wily masculine persuasions-into stupefying concessions for a virgin so recently pure of mind. Her fondness for Stanley was very great, even though she persuaded herself that it was that of a sister for her brother rather than that of a warmblooded girl for her initiator into intense carnal delights. And she was conscious of a little tug at her heart strings and her nerves as she saw Mildred act thus with the man in her presence.

She fled in shame as well as with a queer, somber regret. And she heard the low, silvery laugh of her sister follow her, a laugh which was not mocking at all, but rather excitedly sensual and pleased.

It was perhaps in consequence of this home-coming scene, as well as of confidences from Stanley in their own chamber, that the fair mistress of the house was moved to a mischievously lecherous action on the following morning which drove Marion almost wild.

Oversleeping a little, because her tense nerves had not let her fall into slumber at once, the younger sister was awakened by low voices and by laughter. Rubbing her half-opened eyes, she saw Stanley propelled into her chamber by the shove of a feminine arm and hand. He was in his pajamas and was grinning a trifle ruefully.

“Get the lazy thing up, Stanley,” commanded Mildred, appearing now herself in the doorway, in nightgown and negligee. “She knows we’ve dispensed with servants up here, and who is going to toast the bread while I broil the chops? She’d let us starve, the young hussy! Get her out of that in a hurry!”

“Heavens, I dare not!” remarked the man smilingly. “Virgins are very dangerous to the hunter when found in bed like this. And this one looks so startled and so frightened and rosy.”

“Pay no attention. It’s only her wily way of begging off and getting a chance to go to sleep again,” observed his wife. “Snatch her out. I’ve got her bath turned on and we’ll have her ready for the bright day in no time at all. Oh, how the little rascal struggles and kicks! She almost got away from you that time. See her squirm! Marion, my love, you are showing your pretty person in a most suggestive manner. Come in, boys, I want you to see how our lovely Marion gets up.”

The squealing, writhing Marion was struck dumb and cold with horror as her mischievous sister pretended to call thus over her shoulder to imaginary males in the hallway. For she knew enough of the extraordinary informality prevailing in this colony of unhampered young aristocrats, and enough, too, of her sister’s caprices, to think it quite possible that a man or two had dropped in for breakfast and that masculine heads might appear at any instant over the bare, white shoulders of Mildred.

“Don’t you dare, Mildred, Stanley!” she cried wildly. “Go away, everybody-everybody-or I’ll never speak to any of you again!”

She tugged forcibly downward the thin nightgown which had flown up as she had wrestled with Stanley and which had become so disordered that not only small bare feet and round calves, but lovely thighs had made their appearance. But the smiles of her aggressors slowly established in her mind the fact that the suggested presence of visitors was just a hoax.

“Oh!” she gasped. “How mean, Mildred! Call off this brute and I’ll promise to get up as soon as you are gone. What a perfectly horrid joke to play!”

“I think this bold and disrespectful child needs a lesson in courtesy towards her parents,” said Mildred severely. “Just stick her legs over that windowsill, Stanley, with her nighty well up and her feet outside, where the Crandalls and the Hamiltons can see clearly from their bungalows and I’ll dress her down a little with this carpet-beater for a minute.”

“Oh, heavens!” shrieked Marion, convinced that even this degradation might happen to her in this stupefying place. If you do that I’ll die! Don’t-for God’s sake, don’t! I’ll get up-really I will. But make Stanley let go of me, Mildred, and both of you go away.”

“Indeed, miss, and since when have the heads of the household-gray and doddering old heads-been receiving instruction from a petulant junior?” inquired Mildred with mock gravity. “Slip off her nighty, Stan, and bring her into her bathroom. And if we have any more struggles, Miss Beauty, I swear we’ll hang you out of that window without a stitch on and give the neighbors a real treat!”

Poor Marion gasped-and crumpled into submission. Her grinning brother-in-law peeled the frail nightgown over her head and carted his lovely, naked burden into the bathroom with his wife preceding them.

Together they soused and bathed her, and they knew how to render the process so confusingly pleasant to her quivering nerves and flesh that at last the maiden struggled not at all. Even her stifled little moans of shame over this extraordinary ministry died away into sighs, but her long lashes dropped over suffused eyes and her sweet face was one glow of rose.

When it came to the drying process, the indulgent Mildred left the most intimate regions to the care of her well-pleased spouse. And the panting Marion, held by her sister in order to prevent her drooping body from tumbling to the bathmat on which she stood, knew once again delicious sensations from insidious male fingers which manipulated the warm towels.

To the shamed Marion the presence of her sister added a new touch of tremendous embarrassment in this ordeal, and so she failed perhaps to observe what Stanley clearly and surprisedly noted: the intense and growing interest of his wife in his intimate touches of her sister’s person and in the latter’s shaking reactions to those touches.

Mildred perched Marion on the edge of the tub in a sitting posture. “Open you legs, darling,” she breathed. “Farther than that. How did you think Big Brother can get at you when you keep clamping them together? And little girls must be dried nicely in there. Cute little pussy, quite a lot darker than mine, isn’t it, Stanley, darling? How sweet-tiny pink slit! Little shivering pet! Listen, Stan, get away for a moment. I don’t think you’re drying her nicely at all. The towel is no good for the little nooks. This is the way-like this, see!”

“Good heavens, Mildred-no-no, oh, no!” wailed the shamed Marion thickly.

She was trembling from head to toe and the amazed Stanley, startled by his wife’s flushed agitation and by the total disappearance of her mirthful mood, held the maiden in position while Mildred dried her sister’s privacies with bare and very solicitous fingers instead of with a towel.

It was a new light for the man upon the touches of soft perversity which may swarm up from the depths of any warmly sensual nature such as was that of his lovely young wife. For the instant, as he could not fail to recognize, the interest of Mildred in her sister’s perfect little body was far more than sisterly. And the shuddering Marion, her eyes screwed tightly shut, succumbed to his powerful restraining arms and to the most delicate of indelicate touches between her nude thighs.

Toying libidinously, although still pretexting the necessity of fully drying these secret realms, with the rosy borders of the already pouting sex of her sister, Mildred glanced up at Stanley with glazed and languorous eyes, which seemed to call his attention to the beauty of the full exposed region. Her lips curled in a sensual smile as she let a daring finger bore between the tender portals.

“No-n-no-my God, Mildred-how can you-oh-o-o-oh-how shameless!” stammered Marion, almost in convulsions as she felt her sister’s brazen finger touch her stiff clitoris.

“Hold her tightly, Stanley,” murmured the older girl. “How you do shake, Marion, darling! A person would think you had never been properly dried before. Quite still, precious, and let big sister attend to your toilet. Heavens, how passionate you are, little one, and how ashamed to let brother and sister notice it!”