ARABELLA (2 page)

“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.”

All this being said in a rush, and I scarcely having recovered from my double shock, she led me to the bed and drew me down upon it, passing her arms about me so to comfort me for my aroused fears, as she thought. Indeed, I trembled violently, though not so much from the scare she had given me as from the aftermath of what I had witnessed. Alas for feminine intuitions, I was not long to remain guardian of my secret.

“What have you been doing? Where were you?”

All such questions being thrown at me, I knew not how to reply for a moment. Her body being warm to mine and pressed thighs to thighs against me, I do not doubt that she could feel the risen perkiness of my nipples against the firm gourds of her own breasts.

“I, too, could not sleep—I went to get some water,” I muttered.

At that, Elaine laughed and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “Oh, you have seen something—I know you have. What is going on down there?” she asked.

Fretfully I tried to stir from her embrace, but curiosity had awoken devilment in her and she clasped me the tighter, I becoming aware of the silky feel of our bellies together through the cotton of our nightdresses and the fact that my nipples were stubbing against her titties.

“Nothing, I have seen nothing—what is to see,” I blustered.

“I know you have. That is why you are trembling, and beside I can feel your excitement,” Elaine laughed. With that she insinuated one hand between us and so manipulated my breasts and felt my hard nipples that I gasped and twisted for the caress was more enervating than she knew and my burning globes swelled to her touch.

“I have not—oh, I have not.”

I blustered fiercely and would have gone on doing so had she not then closed my trembling lips with hers. How sweet her mouth was! Never before had I kissed mouth to mouth with anyone, nor ever thought of doing so with another girl. Had my passions not been aroused by the lewd spectacle I had witnessed, I know not how I would have responded.

“I will make you tell, Arabella!”

Moist and full, her lips engaged mine more deeply. The sensation, coupled to the blatant wandering of her palm all about my thinly-covered breasts, caused me to surrender utterly. I responded. The tips of our tongues met. In that first moment of the true uncovering of my desires, Elaine knew beyond doubt—as she afterwards conveyed to me—that my heated mind held secrets that she was intent upon devouring. Knowing full well even then her capacity for seduction, she commenced easing up the hem of my nightgown while I all too feebly attempted to obstruct the effort.

“Come, darling, come, for you must be longing for it. Did you see them at it?”

“I am not—no! Oh, Elaine, what a naughty thing to do! St...stop f...feeling me...AH!”

Of a sudden I was bared to my hips. The tip of her forefinger engaged the oily lips of my nest and found my button. I twisted, writhed. I absorbed her tongue. My protestations fled. At the first ardent rubbing of her finger I was lost. Or rather, I should say, found. Oft since have we talked about that moment and how the net of fate ensnares us by the most casual of events. I refer of course to the fact that Elaine had caught me in that moment. My hips wriggled even as Mrs. Witherington-Carey's had done. My legs parted, enabling Elaine to slip full-length upon me. Withdrawing her urging finger as she did so, her furry nest sidled moistly against my own. I felt the rubbing of our lovelips, the tingling merging of our pubic hairs. Coiling her arms under my knees and raising and thrusting my legs back, she caused our honeypots to meet and rub fully. I gasped within her mouth, I clasped her shoulders. Our bottoms squirmed in mutual delight. In a moment a violent shuddering seized me and my belly felt as if invaded by bursting stars. Lashing her tongue wickedly all around my own, Elaine sprinkled my bush in turn with her own spattering lovejoy and then kissed me tenderly all about my hot face.

Alas, that one can never come within distance of such moments with mere words. Long have I practised such in my diaries, yet ever despairing of describing even the touch of lips to one's own in a manner that will communicate to the reader—even to myself. I who hold the dear memories of a thousand such moments of ineluctable bliss can frame them more closely in my mind than mere words can draw. The words provide but a sketch, the frailest outlines of reality. I trouble myself too much about it, perhaps. To Elaine I appear to possess a mastery of prose such as she can never attain to. Time and again in the years that have since passed after that first night of voluptuous discoveries, she has asked me again and again, “What did you write about it?”—referring of course to whatever event had last occurred. She has been party to almost all I have written, her eyes positively glowing as she has perused my diaries, while for myself I have fretted openly to her that I have failed to capture the fleshly bliss.

“Oh, if I could but write like you, I would write very naughty books,” she has oftimes declared.

I have never been flattered by her praise, however. I know my faults, my shortcomings, the midnight wrestlings with words upon which I afterwards gaze with disappointed mien. However, I digress again and must return to the first ruffled bed in which we found ourselves alone and palpitating.

My nest throbbed. Our bodies were sticky together. With a sigh Elaine rolled off of me, though still continuing to cuddle and caress me. That I made no bones about letting her do so—and even returned her lascivious touchings—was the full sign that I had been drawn at last into my future realm. Hot-nippled as our breasts were, they rubbed together where our nightgowns had been drawn up to our armpits.

“Tell me now. What did you see? Who was it?”

I giggled foolishly, still somewhat naive as I was. That long night was however to temper me much in my attitudes and ways of thought. I recall not what I replied for I durst not tell her—as I then thought—that her own Papa was one of the participants. Indeed, in my own ridiculous fashion in those first moments of aftermath, I thought she would not believe me or would be shocked. Such veils of unknowing were soon to be rent from me. Persistent in her questioning and never ceasing to keep me thoroughly aroused between my thighs, Elaine at last after many hesitations and denials on my part, drew from me by simple methods of elimination of names the identity of Mrs. Witherington-Carey. Indeed, I bit my tongue and hid my face upon uttering the name. However, to my uttermost surprise, my cousin remarked with a charming laugh, “She is quite a beauty, is she not? How did he have at her? Were her drawers full down?”

“Oh, she had none on,” I replied, realising for the first time that the lady had worn no such garment. Even as I spoke my breath was bubbling out again for upon Elaine's wicked forefinger as my dell was, I was yet about to come again.

It was over the table, I said. Who was the man, she demanded to know. Do not make me tell, I begged. At that she laughed and rolled me under her anew.

“I know—it was Papa. Oh, he has a big one!” she declared, to my perfect astonishment.

“Oh, it was Papa, then. What a big one he has!”

“Ah, Elaine!”

She had me exactly as she wanted. I was lost to her entirely. Raising my legs of my own accord, I wound them round her slim waist. Her words sang in my brain even as we kissed and rubbed and rose anew to a peak of bliss.

“How...how do you know?” I gasped, for all manner of thoughts were now raging in me.

“You sillykins, you do not know much, do you? Oh, you naughty thing, you are making me come again—is it not lovely?”

I could not but agree. The word painted but a ghost of the sensations I was prey to. The thorns of our nipples seemed to spin about one another's. Our lips indulged in the most lascivious kisses. The curls of our quims became matted with our merging spendings.

“We will do everything together, shall we not, Arabella?”

“Yes,” I choked, though I knew not then the full import of her words nor to what scenes of libertine delights they were to lead us. Quietening ourselves at last, we lay quiet. In the milky gloom, Elaine bent over me and regarded me solemnly. Then, rising, she discarded her nightdress and bid me do the same. There being a flask of liqueur such as was kept for all guests in a side cabinet, we indulged ourselves by drinking from the neck of it. I knew not the time, nor cared.

“Shall we be naughty together?” Elaine asked. We sat up, our legs curled under us, hips touching.

“What can we do?” I asked naively.

“Everything, Arabella. I have long thought of it. Have you not wondered that I am not yet wed? It is of my own choosing. I may do so in a few years time, but for the nonce I do not mean to fetter myself to one man and one bed. I have learned too much for that, how utterly boring it would be! I am certain now that you share my feelings, or will soon do so, therefore I mean to confide in you. Do you know how many ways there are in which pleasure can be taken?”