2 comments/ 27169 views/ 1 favorites Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 01-02 By: Paris Waterman On the last week of March, 2004, while vacationing in Paris, I had by chance spent most of a rainy afternoon in my late aunt's attic. I was there to help in settling her estate and while perusing a series of bound letters found in a musty trunk, I came across . . . well read on and see for yourself. Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 01-02 It was while wiping my prick off with a linen handkerchief that I succumbed to asking a question prompted by vanity more than anything else. "Did you find it pleasurable, my sweet Annabelle Lee?" "Yes I did, Mr. Fogg, after you had done hurting me." "Did I really hurt you?" "Oh, yes indeed you did." "You gave no such indication that you were in pain," I responded defensively. For it was just occurring to me that I may indeed have caused her pain. "Surely you heard my pleas to desist, that you were hurting me?" "But that was before I entered you." "And during and after!" She said, growing haughtier with each word. "What a sham," I thought to myself, "she welcomed my prick and made not a peep when I burst her hymen, yet she says my prick hurt her." I made no further reply on the subject, choosing to pour her another sherry which she accepted and put to her lips. Placing the half empty glass on the table, Annabelle Lee restored her clothing to its original condition and sat down, then leaned into me. My hand idly poked about her quim. "Don't." "What is it?" "I'm sore." "Why, are you still bleeding?" "No, that is I don't think so." "Then why should I stop, I know you enjoyed it." "You've hurt me." I stood and withdrew my prick, then closely examined it with Annabelle Lee's eyes fastened on it as I did so. Despite my efforts in cleansing myself, there on the very tip of my gland was a distinct trace of red. Twas blood, unmistakably the blood of a virgin. My prick sprang up, ready for a rematch and I waved it in front of her as a Calvary-officer his saber before leading a charge into battle. With a detachment I certainly did not feel, I removed my trowsers and asked to see her cunt once more. Annabelle Lee looked away, but said nothing. I knelt between her thighs and pried them apart. She yielded easily this time. Using my thumbs and forefingers I spread her folds and saw my sperm oozing from within her cunt. It was speckled with particles of blood. I lined my prick up with her slit and sent it back up her hole. This time Annabelle Lee joined me in the rutting, wrapping her lustrous thighs round my arse as I clutched and pulled her buttocks to me to attain even more prick purchase within her. This assured me that Annabelle Lee was indeed enjoying this fuck as much as I. I saw quite soon after filling her with another load of spunk that we had perhaps an hour before her sister would be arriving. I insisted on helping her clean her cunt up, making sure to keep her titillated and juicy by constantly rubbing her clitoris and the occasional tickle of her arsehole so that she was giggling throughout the cleansing. Then we fucked again and again. My, oh my -- how Annabelle Lee now loved the feel of my prick in her. I made my excuses and left shortly before her sister came home although Annabelle Lee pleaded with me to stay. "If I do, your mother will know straight away what's occurred on this couch," I said sternly and with that she bade me adieu, but only after my affirmation that we would do it again the following day. Feeling as grand as a young man can possible feel after an afternoon interlude of fucking, I found myself in a nearby tavern, drinking ale after ale and enjoying the company of what passed for fine company until nearly midnight. It was a moonless night that I ventured into on leaving the tavern headed back to the Moorings boarding house. My head was clouded from the drink, but I wasn't staggering down the street like several others I had passed. Suddenly, I heard a voice cry out, "Stop thief!" I turned in the direction of the shout and saw a man bearing a parcel under his arm running directly toward me. There was a second man a good distance behind giving chase. The first man passed me by, but I joined in the chase and remained several yards behind him as we turned a corner. The man who had hollered "Stop thief," was closing the distance but did not see a horse and carriage coming fast from the opposite direction. For my part, I gave it no thought other than to remove myself from its path as I continued in my pursuit of what was obviously a thief. Several things happened at once, or so it seemed. Obviously not all my faculties were functioning clearly and to this day I am not totally convinced of what I thought I saw follow. In any event, the thief slipped and fell. I was but a step or two from being able to pounce upon him. To save himself the thief threw the parcel toward a sewer opening. I moved to save it allowing the thief to scamper off when I stopped to retrieve the object from being swallowed by the London sewage system. I was stooped over, picking up the package when the victim of the theft ran directly into the lead horse of the oncoming carriage and was trampled into the cobblestone street. I am positive that at least one of the horse's hooves crushed the poor man's skull. And that one if not two of the carriage wheels passed over his spine, for I surely hurt it crack and snap under the dreadful weight of the carriage. The carriage rumbled on into the night, never stopping, the driver not even glancing back at the carnage he had wrought. Clutching the parcel to my chest, I ran to the poor man lying twisted on the cobblestones. "Did you get it?' He gasped, blood pouring from his moth and staining his white frilly shirt. This was obviously a gentleman of fine breeding and wealth, I told myself as I set about making his last minutes on earth comfortable. I believe I had made mention previously that I had served in the Crimean war and saw all sorts of butchery and death. But this poor soul may have been the worst of the lot, save those blown to pieces by cannon shell. "Did you get it?" He asked again. "Yes, yes, I have it here with me," I said hoping to appease him. "Is it open?' "No, it appears to be securely bound, shall I open it for you?' Summoning up what must have been his last ounce of strength, he bellowed, "NO! I WOULD NOT LOOK ON IT NOW!" Then after a moment or two he took a deep breath and muttered to himself, "Shouldn't be much longer." And then to me, "Thanks, may I have it, please?" Without further ado, I handed him the parcel while using the opportunity to take a good look at it and determined it was a picture, or map of some kind bound in a frame. I took another look at the man dying in the street. My eyes went wide, for he was attempting to sit up. I hurriedly bent down to restrain him. "Stay down, man. You're badly hurt." I did not tell him he was surely dying. "I'll . . . be . . . all . . . right. Just . . . give me a minute," he gasped. I did not hear the shrill whistle of the London constabulary as help was close to arriving. No, the ubiquitous police whistle, the tones of which peeling out from the fog are so familiar to those of us today was only introduced in the early 1880's. What the "Bobbies" used to summon aid was a noisemaker termed a "rattler." I have deliberately digressed from my story at this juncture so as not to cause the reader to become overly excited by what happened next. For believe it or not, the broken-bodied gentleman then sat up! It was unbelievable! I knelt beside him and saw that his skull was no longer bashed in, but was rapidly returning to what had to be its original shape. What manner man was this? The constable arrived on the scene as the man managed to struggle to his feet without any help from me. It was I who staggered back, not being able to comprehend what was transpiring before my very eyes. It was I who the constable thought the victim of foul play. "Who the devil are you?' I gasped wrenching my arm away from the befuddled constable only to have my knees give way as I sagged to the cobblestones. "Take care man," the constable said, inadvertently warning me to mind my actions. "Take it easy, man," the gentleman said and I could tell he meant it. For our roles had truly reversed. Now it was I who seemed wounded and not he. But I knew this wasn't possible. "Listen to me, please,' he said, as the constable, thinking I had narrowly avoided being run down by the carriage, went to the corner to see if the carriage driver or thief were still lurking about. I looked at him carefully, as if beholding his countenance for the very first time. In retrospect, it was, indeed the first time I had a chance to study him. "Yes," I thought, "before me was a wonderfully handsome young man, with finely-curved scarlet lips, frank blue eyes, and crisp gold hair. There was innocence in his face that made me want trust him at once. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all of youth's passionate purity. I felt a kinship with him that I could not explain. It was as if he had kept himself unspotted from the world, and yet there was the accident to consider. I could not lose sight of that, no I would not forget that. "Listen to me," he said again, and I did; although it took extreme concentration on my part to do so. My name is Dorian Gray. I have a flat round the corner and I should be pleased to have you join me for a brandy. I think we could both bear one, don't you think?" Without waiting for my reply, he helped me to my feet as my mind reeled trying to sort this incident out. I could not do it and so, with Mr. Dorian Gray's assistance, made my way to his place of residence. It was as I took a sip from my second brandy that I became aware of the splendid conditions in which Mr. Gray lived. That he was extremely wealthy was obvious. But to have acquired such wealth at such an early age meant he had inherited it. "Sir," I said, "I am not familiar with the Gray family. Pray tell me, if I am not being too presumptuous, how your family fortune was arrived at." "My family, sir, had nothing to do with my fortune." "No?" I blurted out, unable to contain myself. "But you are such a young man, surely not more than one and twenty?" He smiled condescendingly, looking at me as if I were a child lacking understanding of things. "Do you really want to know?" He said in a formally detached way. I fought off a stammer, saying, "Apparently I have a need to know a great deal about you, sir." Then I caught myself, as I was a guest in his home. "I fear I have insulted you although that was not my intention. But let me clear the one important thing on my mind before we part." "There is no insult intend, of that I am sure, sir. You have been of immeasurable help to me this evening, Sir,' he replied. "Anything you want to know I shall gladly share with you. I would not under normal circumstances do so, but you sir, have saved my life that I may die another day. Believe me when I say this. I shall endeavor to make it clearer as our conversation continues. But as with all things, let us put first things first. Please tell me your name that I may properly address you as we converse." "Oh, God forgive me!" I gasped shocked at my poor manners. My name, sir, is Phileas Fogg and if I have any more of your fine brandy, sir, all conversation from myself will cease as I am close, very close to being intoxicated right now." He laughed and once again I was taken with his pure beauty. It was unseemly on my part, to look upon another man thusly, but there was no getting around it, he was strikingly beautiful. "Very well then, here is my story. Believe it or not, it matters not to me. Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 01-02 Note 1: The majority of material found in Part two is taken from, or paraphrased from Oscar Wilde's, "Picture of Dorian Gray." (Paris Waterman) Scotland Yard was summoned and I was questioned by an Inspector Fleming for some hours until he finally dismissed me, frustrated with the story I had told him over and over and over. The servants, to the man, all insisted that the painting on the wall had been that of an older man and not that of the handsome young man presently fixed to the wall whose beauty rivaled that of the most feminine of women. And further that Mr. Gray himself had been a young man, that this was certainly not his aged torso lying dead on the floor before them; which only added to the Inspector's annoyance and disappointment in resolving the mystery. I insisted that my story was true, that Mr. Gray had indeed been a young man up to the moment he stabbed his aged portrait with the dagger. "Then he metamorphosed before your very eyes," Inspector Fleming said, his voice rife with skepticism. "That Inspector, is exactly what I saw happen. I know it sounds unlikely. I can scarcely believe it myself. But look here, the servants tell you Mr. Gray was a young man. I tell you the same thing. . ." "Yes, yes, yes," he said impatiently. "But who the devil is this . . . decrepit gentleman on the floor here?" "That gentleman and Mr. Gray are one and the same, sir. That it does not follow logically, I agree, but all the same, that is exactly what transpired and I shall not be changing my version of the story. I should add one more bit of information although it has nothing to do with his death." "Pray tell, Mr. Fogg, and just what is this nugget of information?" "The very last thing Mr. Gray did before stabbing the portrait was to produce a will and make a change to it." "How so, Sir?" "Um, he wrote my name down as half beneficiary although I had never met him before this night." "Leave me!" Cried the Inspector enraged with his befuddlement. "Just get out of my sight. I'm sure we'll have other questions of you at a later time, but for now, get out! Go home and be sure to leave an address with the constable downstairs." Needless to say, I was a wretched mess on arriving back at the Mooring's boarding house around dawn. There would be no lectures at Oxford for me that day. I slept soundly until four in the afternoon and would have continued rekindling my energies but for the gentle teasing of Annabelle Lee who woke me by rubbing her hands up and down my prick which evidently had been awake long before myself. With a lewd cackle, Annabelle Lee said, "Better make haste, Mr. Fogg for mother and sister will soon be home to dinner." I put my hand to her cunt, she opened her thighs, and I saw the cleft, with a pair of large lips hanging loosely on each side. Thanks to a bright light from the window I was enabled to see it as plainly as if under a microscope. I pushed my finger up her wet hole and soon my cock was knocking against my belly, demanding to take the place of my finger. Oh, my fine Annabelle Lee was antsy to fuck this fine day; having acquired a taste for it the second or third time around the bush the previous day. No sooner was I lodged in her, than arse, cunt, thighs and belly, all worked as energetically as the finest piece of machinery in all of London town. It was only a minute until I spent. I moved to pull out, but her cunt closed round my prick with a strong muscular action, as if it did not wish my warm pipe withdrawn. I found this disconcerting and intensely pleasurable --- an interesting series of sensations to be sure. It appeared she was holding me fast by using the muscles of her cunt alone, although at the time I was sure it was a feminine trick of some kind. In any event, she proceeded to milk the last drop of lingering spunk from out of me; it twas vexing, troublesome, and highly pleasurable --- not at all bad for a fast fuck in the afternoon. While recovering for our next foray into the fountain of fornication, I thought fleetingly of Dorian Gray; wondering how many women he had bedded with all those extra years provided him. I concluded that it probably didn't matter; that for him the challenge was removed leaving the act of sex to take on the same level as moving one's bowels. That mean thought was followed by another. It occurred to me that I really had not studied Annabelle Lee's cunt as such and I got on my knees and contemplated her slit --- as her folds were half open with my sperm freely flowing out. Annabelle Lee looked on passively as I studied her hairy hole. "Want another throw? It'd be fine with me if yer like." "How long do we have?" "Not so long as I'd like, but we can make do." "I don't think I can," said I. Such coolness in a woman was new to me. I scarcely knew what to make off it. She quickly proved me wrong, taking hold of my prick and jerking it this way and that until it stood firm and pulsating wildly. Leering at me; Annabelle Lee opened her legs in a most condescending manner and began rubbing it into the mouth of her cunt. With a broad grin on her face, she pulled me onto her and put my prick in herself, lodging it there with a clever jerk of her bum, followed by a quick squeeze, and a wriggle. I fucked quietly in no particular rush to spend, but, and this merely goes to show how rapid a woman's personality is in changing. Yesterday Annabelle Lee fought me off countless times, yet this day she was heaving and wriggling so as to enjoy the benefits of, as she so aptly put it: "My happy friend." So excited a state did Annabelle Lee find herself in that her agitated hips soon dislodged my prick from its love nest. It was she who became disconcerted at this loss, not I and using all manner of dexterity, she soon had me back in place, cajoling me to, "Shove, shove, shove!" When I did, she gripped my arse so tightly that she left the marks of her fingers on it; and there they remained for close to three days thereafter. In the course of clutching my arse she also humped me with what had to be all her heart. I'm sure Annabelle Lee spent, for she gave a last wriggle, then a deep sigh and lay still; her face as red as fire, leaving me to finish by my own exertions. I felt that squeeze of her cunt as I withdrew; one of those delicious contractions which women of strong muscular power in their privates can give. Mind you, not all can do it. Strangely enough, those who are unable to perform this sexual magic cannot even comprehend it as I discovered in later years. Annabelle Lee got up and tucked her chemise between her legs to dry her split, but did not wash it. "My sister will be home forthwith," said she in a business-like manner, "but tomorrow at the same time would be good if yer like." On the morrow, I did not rendezvous with Annabelle Lee as I received a message from one Prescott T. Wainwright, Solicitor, requesting my presence at noon. I surmised that it had to be about Dorian Gray. I had completely forgotten Dorian Gray's promise to leave me part of his fortune in light of all else that transpired afterward. I made haste to keep my appointment and just managed to do so. Although in retrospect I think Prescott T. Wainwright, Solicitor would have waited until hell froze over to meet with me. I found Mr. Wainwright a less than imposing figure; the texture of his pallid skin resembling that of the driest parchment. So dry, in fact, that I would have sworn if just the tiniest ray of sunshine were to shine down upon him he would no doubt burst into unextinguishable flames until his entire being was reduced to ashes. I should point out that in those days a lawyer's duties in Britain were divided among two general classes—barristers and solicitors. Solicitors generally handled all the day-to-day legal business one may need to engage in: signing contracts, writing up wills, and other non-criminal affairs. Barristers, on the other hand, formed the highest of England's legal class, having studied for the bar at one of the four Inns of Court: Gray's Inn, Lincoln's Inn, and the Temple (which itself formed two of the inns). Only barristers were qualified to argue criminal cases in the highest courts of the land. But should one require the services of a barrister, one first had to hire a solicitor, who then engaged the services of a barrister to plead one's case. Victorian London—much less all of England—had a bewildering series of courts where one's case could be heard or pleaded, far too many to mention here, from debtors' courts to Doctor's Common to police courts, to the Assizes (periodic court sessions presided over by superior court judges) to the Central Criminal Courts in Old Bailey. And unlike in America, one was not considered innocent until proven guilty. I must say, Mr. Wainwright comported himself like a gentleman, remaining self-assured and competent to the task at hand for the duration of our meeting. "And how long did you know Mr. Dorian Gray?" He asked straightforwardly. I knew enough to keep my answers short and sweet. "Not very long, I'm afraid." Undaunted, Mr. Wainwright asked the same question in a different manner. "Were you acquainted with him a year ago?" "No sir, I was not." "Were you acquainted with him some six months ago?" "No sir, I was not." "Oh, come, man! When exactly did you make his acquaintance?" "Do you mind if I ask the reasoning behind this line of questioning?" I asked. "Not at all, Mr. Fogg, as the executor of Mr. Dorian Gray's estate I must establish any relationship you had with Mr. Gray." "And if I had never met the gentleman at all, would that prevent you from performing your duties? Duties that I see quite clearly as following the wishes of the late departed, Mr. Gray?" This frontal assault put Mr. Wainwright back a peg or two. "Um, yes. Your point is well taken," he said and avoided meeting my eye. I pressed on. "Mr. Wainwright, is it not your sworn duty to honour the written request of your late client?" "Yes it is, but . . . this is all so strange . . ." "Mr. Dorian Gray was a mystery to me as well, sir. Why not tell me what you know of him and I shall share similar information of mine with you?" We agreed and shook hands on it. I gave him a nod, indicating that he should proceed first. "Ahem," the solicitor cleared his throat and began. "It would appear out Mr. Gray was a very private personage. I have been retained as his solicitor for 2 and twenty years now, and during all that time have met him but twice. The first time obviously was the day he first retained my services and the second only last week." "Last week!" I blurted in surprise. "Indeed, last week and it twas to change his last will and testament, for until that time Mr. Gray was adamant about leaving everything to the Church of England." "Did he . . ." I hesitated to venture further with the thought. "Did he name me at that time, Sir?" "Oh, no sir, he did not. He had me draft out a new will all proper like, but with the beneficiary's name left blank." I grew more nervous than ever. "Mr. Wainwright, what I shall tell you will come as a surprise . . . nay, a shock to your senses." And I proceeded to tell the solicitor of my adventure in meeting Mr. Dorian Gray. Wainwright's features grew pale as he absorbed the information. Nervously drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he heard me out, then signaled me of the dubiousness with which he had for my tale, saying, "Surely you're not serious, my good fellow!" "I am extremely serious, sir. It would seem that Mr. Dorian Gray had some form of connection with the supernatural world and that in return for some promise of which I am not quite clear on, he was granted eternal youth; or at least retained his youthfulness until he plunged the dagger into the painting." Mr. Wainwright had several more question to put to me, and to which I responded as honestly as I was able. In addition, I invited him to question Inspector Fleming of Scotland Yard, who I felt would support my statement although he was somewhat pessimistic of certain details it contained. "For," I said, "there is some question of exactly what transpired with respect to Mr. Dorian Gray. The servants have testified, or at least given sworn statements to the Inspector that the portrait as they had viewed it each and every day these last several years, was that of an old, terribly aged man. But on Mr. Gray's passing that same portrait . . . let me be precise here . . . the portrait found in the room and . . . more importantly, under the body, was that of a handsome young man. A young man --- and the servants all support this point, sir --- a young man bearing the likeness of the gentlemen they all knew as Dorian Gray. But, and this is most important, sir, the body of the deceased . . . according to the servants testimony, bore what they termed a striking resemblance to the portrait that had hung on the wall for lo these many years." Admittedly, sir, I was alone with Mr. Gray when he stabbed the portrait . . . and this ghastly transference occurred. To my knowledge no tearing or piercing of the portrait has been noted as yet; although the Yard's microscopes will have a look at the portrait for that very purpose, I have my personal doubts that any such tear will be discovered. I went on to answer each of the solicitor's questions that followed and made nary a single move to evade any topic brought forth. In the end, Mr. Wainwright had one last shock for me. "Mr. Fogg," said he, "I believe you. Mr. Dorian Gray was indeed a strange fellow. Further, his request in changing his last will and testament only a week before his demise suggests that he was aware that death was eminent and that, well this is pure speculation . . . perhaps I should keep it to myself." "Do go on, man!" I besieged him. Wanting more than anything to hear someone, anyone admit that what I had witnessed was within the realm of possibility. "Very well, sir, I shall. But remember you asked for it." I was nodding in the affirmative, hoping he would get on with it and relieve me of some small portion of the anxiety I now carried on my shoulders. "It has been my experience that when one makes his or her last will and testament out, or for that matter, amends said instrument at a latter time, that death is very much on their mind. It must be or they would not take the time to . . . to set things straight, as it were.' I took a deep breath and nodded as if he were the ancient man on top of the mountain having just passed the secret of life to me. Then Mr. Wainwright resumed his lawyerly duties and stunned me once again, revealing just how much Mr. Dorian Gray had bequeathed to me. To begin with, there was the matter of one hundred thousand pounds sterling; perhaps a like figure in jewelry and African diamonds along with several choice parcels of property in the middle of London. Indeed, I, Phileas Fogg, was now a very wealthy personage. Indeed. The rest of the meeting was devoted to acquiring sound financial advice from my solicitor, to whom I promptly handed a handsome retainer. This was to enable me to: a) Make use of his knowledge in certain financial areas, in which I was lacking, b) To keep the now invaluable Mr. Wainwright close at hand, and c) With Scotland Yard not totally convinced of my innocence with respect to Mr. Gray's demise, I thought it prudent to have legal advice that I might trust close at hand. Mr. Wainwright made himself invaluable to me almost immediately with several sound suggestions as to how I might invest my fortune. To wit: I should hold the real estate for the foreseeable future as London was growing as no city in history ever had before. The jewelry should be properly appraised and then placed in a bank's vault for safe keeping. But most importantly, that I should immediately take advantage of the coming conflict in America between the North and the South, playing both ends against the middle as it were before the inevitable war broke out. On close examination, I determined several opportunities presenting themselves to anyone willing to take a marginal risk. I was certainly up to that and more. I requested Mr. Wainwright prepare a list of men he deemed trustworthy in business matters. I did not mention that I would have the names checked and double checked by some people at Oxford who were reputed very knowledgeable of bankers, traders and businessmen in London's circles. Within a few short months Mr. Wainwright proved he was worth every penny, earning himself a smart bonus by instructing me to sell my North American holdings forthwith; thereby averting certain grievous losses in what was to be called the Panic of 1857. That choice piece of history came about with the failure of the New York branch of the Ohio Life Insurance and Trust Co., a major financial force that collapsed following massive embezzlement. Mr. Wainwright had the good fortune to have a cousin in America working in the Attorney General's offices who was kind enough to supply him with certain advance information on the matter. Hard on the heels of this event were other setbacks that shook the American public's confidence: • The decision of British investors to remove funds from American banks raised questions about overall soundness. • The fall of grain prices spread economic misery into rural American areas. • Manufactured goods began to pile up in warehouses, leading to massive layoffs and then widespread railroad failures occurred, an indication of how badly over-built the American system had become. • Finally, land speculation programs collapsed with the railroads, ruining thousands of investors. Of course, as soon as it was deemed safe to do so, the monies were reinvested right back and reaped tremendous profits before, during and after the horrific Civil War. But I digress. It was dizzy with plans of bright future that I wandered back to the Mooring's boarding house. Perhaps I looked a bit drunk, but as I'd had but a few pints with the regulars I was certain it would not be evident to the casual observer. Drunk I was though, I conceded readily enough. But with the power of my future prospects for I was now an incredibly wealthy man. As I made myself at home, quaffing half a pint in one long swallow, then plopped my arse heavily upon the couch. Soon enough I heard a sound in the next room. "Who's there?' I asked, burped and then laughed at my actions. I knew it was Annabelle Lee readying herself for me and I listened all the harder to make certain it was she and not her mother. With lewd intent, I kept myself still and heard movements as of a woman undressing. I emptied the tankard of its ale and had myself half-undressed, and then barely able to suppress a giggle, I picked up the honey-pot and brought it to the door and pissed, long and hard. Thinking in my nearly drunken state (the pint easily taking advantage of me after a stress-filled day) the sounds of my piss would arouse and excite the lovely Annabelle Lee. I knocked gently, and called out jeeringly, "Do I have the honour of addressing Miss Annabelle Lee?" Then I chuckled inanely at my humor. Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 01-02 "What do you want, Mr. Fogg?" said she from the other side of the door. "Want? Oh, I just WANT to converse with you, no more, no less, my pretty wench." I chuckled again as if I knew a great secret and she did not. Oh, I was so smug, so superior on that last wee pint of ale. Annabelle Lee made no response to this and I felt compelled to add, "I'm so cold; I shan't stand here and catch my death of a cold. I bid you a good night then." "Have you no fire?" A muffled voice called out. "There is no stove here," I said, snickering at my reply. "There is one in my room," said she. "And it's quite warm, come in and chat. You must tell me of your day. Was it trying?" Although my hand was on the doorknob I did not turn it. There was a rustling sound which I took to be that of her petticoats hurrying to the door; then I heard a cough. My prick was ready to rip through my fly so hard was it. I fleetingly thought of it as a battering ram, quite sufficient to knock the barrier between us to the floor. I released my prick from its imprisonment and held it sword-like in my hand. I fancied calling out "En garde!" as I rushed into her room, but did not. However, it was she who turned the key, then the handle, and the door opened on a darkened room. I made out Annabelle Lee's feminine form, but not her features. "Light a candle, my sweet so I may look upon your lovely features," I cooed softly. It was her turn to giggle. "Do come in, Mr. Fogg. Have you been drinking this night?" "No, I have not," said I. That obvious lie brought forth another giggle from her corner of the room. "Well . . . possibly a little, but no more than a pint," said I. "Come in. Sit down. Mind you leave the door open it will help heat the room you've just left." "I don't much mind the cold," said I trying to make out how clothed Annabelle Lee was and how much I would have to remove since I was not feeling up to a struggle in getting her undressed at this point. "You just now complained of it." "I meant that I should warm you up in bed," said I, growing more comfortable as the heat seeped into my bones. "Oh! Don't talk such nonsense." "It's not nonsense, we are alone, come join me in a sherry." "All right," said she. But I was at a loss as to the whereabouts of the bottle. "Where is it?" "Where is what?" "The sherry. Where does your mother keep it hidden?" "You don't require any more of that this evening. Come, sit down with me." Ruled by my prick, I went to her and sat down beside her. "Let us light a candle at least," I said, for in truth although only an arms length from her I could not, for the life of me, discern her features. She was content to play the coquettish "Let me gaze upon your delightful breasts, my sweet," said I and gave a light tug on her shawl pulling it from her shoulders. But only a little of her breasts were exposed to my eyes as she hastened to turn her back on me. Thus I became confused. Did she fancy a fuck, or not? I hesitated, then went on talking quietly and respectfully as my hands sought to uncover more of her person. I had reached the point of thumbing the nipple of her right breast, making it stand up, hard and juicy as a plum when up she scrambled, leaving me alone in the bed. Just as quickly I sat up and saw clearly that it was not Annabelle Lee, but her younger sister. "What! What are you doing impersonating your sister?" I watched as a malicious grin formed on her face. She lit a candle then, holding it near her face so that I could be sure of just who she was. She made no effort whatsoever to cover her bared breasts. I was quick to note that they were much smaller than Annabelle Lee's, "How dare you stand looking at me?" Katherine Ann said. "Is it to rape me that brought you here?" "Rubbish," I said, "Pure rubbish!" While at the same time I thought . . . 'no, YOU led me to believe you were your sister, there was no rape of Katherine Ann Mooring on my mind at any time.' I regretted uttering those words as fast as they were spoken, for my rampant prick betrayed me, jutting straight up along my stomach. It was the only time in my entire life that I wished mightily for a smaller weapon than that I possessed at that very moment. "Get out of my room you vile person! Not acting the gentleman now are yer?" "Get out!" She spat out at me and her spittle caught the shoulder of my waist-coat. I seethed with anger unlike any I had experienced before except for the enemy at Balaclava. At that time I made sure to kill several of them before managing to calm down. Most likely I'd have done her in too, but for catching the wench glancing furtively at my prick now reddened with lust and involuntarily jerking about seeking a warm nest someplace. "Go on, out of my room, said she. "Not before I fuck you, I won't," said I as I advanced upon her. She blanched and backed away from me, but that put her headed in the wrong direction so far as a proper escape was concerned. "I'd die before giving me self to the likes of you," said she and she spat at me again, this time missing me by a wide margin, so wide that I suspected it was on purpose. "Will you fuck me for 3 pounds?" I asked. "Get out!" "Will you fuck me for 5 pounds?" I asked. Her shrill voice raised an octave. "Get out of my room!" "Will you fuck me for 10 pounds?" I asked. "Ten pounds? You'd give me ten pounds to lay down with you?" "No. I will pay ten pounds to fuck you, right here, right now." "Show me the money!" Katherine Ann said as her nostrils flared and her tiny chest heaved with excitement. 'It must have seemed a fortune to her,' I thought. Then perhaps to bolster her confidence a bit, she said, "You won't tell me mother now, will yer?" "No," I said softly. "But tell me, Katherine Ann, why play me thusly?" "Annabelle Lee was after telling me how wonderful it was to be fucking with the likes of you and what a handsome prick yer had." "Did you spy on us at all?" "No, I wanted to, but it weren't possible, the rooms being so small and all." "So then what do you make of it, now you've seen it?" I asked, my manly vanity wanting to be stroked about as much as I wanted her to be stroking my manhood. "Its much bigger than I had thought it would be." "Give me a kiss now; let me taste those sweet lips." "You promised some money. Mr. Fogg, did you not?" Reaching into my trousers, I found two five-pound notes and handed them to her. She stuffed them under the mattress and offered her lips to mine. My fingers were already running upward along her thigh. "Do you fancy this?" I asked. She made no reply. I placed my hand round her waist and kissed her properly. Her mouth opened and accepted my tongue almost gleefully. The kiss lasted a while and I had fondled her smallish tits to the point her nipples were begging to be sucked by the time it ended. I made for her asparagus-like tips straight away and had her moaning forthwith. "Mr. Fogg you'll have me swooning in a minute," she said and I took it as a weak protest. "Take my prick in hand, now." She did and gave it a hearty squeeze. "Did you look in on your sister and me?" "It was just a quick peek, sir." "You saw me fucking her, did you not?" My hand was rubbing up against her sparsely haired cunt. "OH!" I rubbed a little harder and felt her growing wet. "Did you or did you not?" "YES! I did. I did. Oh, what is that you're doing to me?" "I'm warming you up, do you like it?" "YES! YES! Very much, sir." I put my hand up her clothes and tried to feel my way beneath them, but she turned round, and after a struggle half squatted on the floor to prevent me. However, I used the position to assist me, pushing her onto her back on the floor; scrunch round for a moment then my fingers were sliding along her sopping wet gash. Katherine Ann screaming loudly as we rolled about. I give her this; she was nimble as a cat and sprang to her feet escaping my hands. But I was on her again in a moment, and had her clothes up and a finger back up her hole as she thrashed about trying to elude my clutching hands. I whispered in her ear, "You took the money." There was panic in her voice as she cried, "I'll give it back!" I held her there, thinking of what I might do, but made no further advances, contenting myself with mouthing bawdy phrases to her while caressing her bum which she did not resist. How long this might have gone on is anyone's guess, but Annabelle Lee sauntered into the room and smiled down upon us. "Stay put right there, the two of ye," she said and left us only to return in a minute with a large mug and some whiskey. We all drank freely, passing the mug from hand to hand. In a short time they were both frisky as I. The sisters, being sisters began quarrelling and let out all about each other, the elder's object being to upset the younger one's virtue and make her humble before me. My randiness asserted itself and I spoke of feeling Katherine Ann's cunt whilst she had been out. Annabelle Lee laughed and said, "That's all right, she will have it well felt some day, she's a fool if she don't" Katherine Ann flushed from the drink or from horniness; or both, I don't know. But it seemed a favorable result all the same. From there we moved to joking about my recent disappointment in being denied certain pleasures and I asked Katherine Ann to give me my pleasure then, having made me wait intolerably long. Mind you, my prick was standing in clear view all this time. Both girls having taken what were unmistakenly longing glances, however furtive, at it. "Oh, yes," said Annabelle Lee, "and it is such pleasure." She blatantly licked her lips in an exaggeratingly lewd fashion, then added, "Once Katherine Ann has tasted it, she will like it and want it again and again." Katherine Ann befuddled from the drink and arousal laughed, "How you two do go on." But it was evident from her flushed face that the words had taken the wind from her sails. It remained for me to take action and I did so, putting my hands up Katherine Ann's clothes and saying, "Lord, look how stiff my prick is!" Only to have Katherine Ann shriek, "I won't stand for this," and rushed from the room. Annabelle Lee restrained me from following her saying, "She'll be back, for she wants it. She just doesn't know how badly she wants it. Now slip it into me and we'll grunt and groan and draw her in like a fly to honey." Annabelle Lee, true to her word, pulled her drawers off and presented her backside to me and began barking like a dog. I had to laugh at her antics and guided my prick directly into her cunt slit. We took it easy for she and I were of like mind – to relieve Katherine Ann of her maidenhead as quickly as possible. So I grunted and groaned while she barked and howled, the two of us striving mightily to keep from laughing lest we give away our seduction plans to soon. Now tis true enough that Annabelle Lee had a marvelous cunt, tight and with a sleek sheath. One couldn't ask for more, except for another cunt, very much the same; for two is always better than one. We were both enjoying the fuck, but were also of a mind to keep me from spewing my spunk too soon. Leaving my prick in her cunt, we stopped fucking and finished our drinks. Katherine Ann silently returned to the room, eyes agog and stood next to us." Are ye fucking?" she asked. "No we are not!" Her sister replied haughtily. "We finished the first one whilst you waited outside," said I. Thinking herself safe, or else having made her decision to bid farewell to her virginity, she sat down beside us. I straight away went for her cunt and diddled it through her petticoat. "How do you like it?" said I. "Tis nice enough, Mr. Fogg, but tell me, does it hurt bad when . . . you know?" "I'll not lie to you. It varies. Your lovely sister suffered hardly any feeling of pain. But that's not always the case. What I can offer as solace is that whether pain or not, the pleasure that follows far exceeds the pain." Her expression revealed a great doubt remained in her mind. "I might offer this through, have you ever witnessed a birthing; say, a child's birth?" "Oh, yes," says she, and her face lit up telling me she thought it a wonderful thing. "Mrs. Thorndike had a baby girl not four months back. I watched the whole birth." "Did she experience much pain?" "That she did, it was the most painful thing I've ever seen." "And when the baby arrived --- I mean after they cleaned the baby up and presented it to her, was she still in pain, or was she the happiest person you've ever seen?" "Happy she was . . . as you said. The happiest person I've ever seen." "That's what I mean. Losing your virginity is like that, much less pain, but the happiness is much the same." "Are ye sure? It's not another lie you're telling me is it?" "It's the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me." There was no resistance when my hand crept under her petticoat; nor when I worked her knickers down round her ankles, and only a whimper when my finger entered her to the first knuckle. I began to titillate her clitoris and at this she whined, "No! No!" I took it to mean the exact opposite and continued my ministrations, for her legs did not close on my hand, but remained slightly open; sufficiently so as to allow me the leeway needed to keep stoking her furnace. Katherine Ann lay with eyes shut, breathing heavily as I parted her legs with scarce resistance; and saw a mere trifle of hair on the cunt. The novelty of this so pleased me that I kissed it; and for the first time in my life I had licked a cunt. The spittle from my mouth ran on to it, I pulled open the lips and carefully examined it as her bun squirmed round and round. It looked different from the cunt's I had seen to that time; that being four including her sister's. She pretended to be fast asleep, and let me do all I wanted. I should have reveled in the enjoyment of anticipation before destroying her hymen; but given my youth, my state of sobriety and my pent up desire I didn't place much emphasis on her virginity. An instant later, my belly lay upon hers. "Oh, don't be smothering me, Mr. Fogg," said she in a somewhat groggy tone. I lined my prick up with the nick in her cunt, and wetting her hole and my prick with a gob of spittle, settled the knob against it --- and putting my other hand round her arse --- grasped her tight, nestling my belly to hers. Then trembling with lust --- gave a lunge --- then another and another. Although I found this hard work --- I was getting in there. I stopped a moment, heard her gasp, felt my spunk hurtling out of my balls and gave a few more merciless shoves. Katherine Ann gave a sharp "OH!" Her cunt's resistance vanished and my prick gouged a passage of perhaps some five inches deep as I unloaded my spunk with short, quiet thrusts and collapsed upon her and lay still. To my utter chagrin and astonishment, she lay under me, mouth open and snoring. As quietly as possible, I rose up off of her and took a moment to examine her condition. Her cunt showed a red streak, and my spunk was slowly oozing from her streaked with blood. There was also a little blood on her chemise. There was little doubt she too had been a virgin. I waited patiently until she revived herself and watched as she put her hand up her petticoats carefully feeling her cunt; looked at her fingers, burst into tears and sat crying for a minute or two. Then she roused herself, put a basin with water on to the floor, and somewhat unsteady, upset some of it, but managed to wash herself clean of my spunk and her blood. She sat down again, leaving the basin where it was. Then she pulled up the front of her chemise and looked at it, put her fingers to her cunt, looked at them and renewed her crying. Still crying softly she leaned her head against the bed in a drowsy, tipsy manner. It was at this point that Annabelle Lee returned and gave me a funny sort of look. I nodded; directly she went into the bedroom and closed the door on me, but I heard most of what was said. : "What are you sitting there for?" No reply. Annabelle Lee: "What's that basin there for?" No reply. Annabelle Lee: "Have you been washing your pussy?" No reply. Annabelle Lee: "What have you been washing it for?" "I was hot." Katherine Ann finally responded. Annabelle Lee: "Why, look! You have been on the bed!" "No, I ain't." Annabelle Lee: "You have, with Fogg." "No, I ain't." Annabelle Lee: "I know he's been atop a you, just as he was atop on me this morning." "No, he ain't" There was a long crying fit. Eventually, Annabelle Lee said, "What's the good of crying, you fool, no one ain't going to tell, I shan't, and mother won't know either." Then their voices dropped off. They stood together as I went back into the room. "You have done it to my sister," said Annabelle Lee, accusingly. A few minutes ago you seemed all for the taking of her maidenhead," I said hotly, but was caught off-guard by her taking this position. It occurred to me that she could have me charged with rape and while rape was not easily proven, my reputation would be tarnished and certain doors of opportunity shut in my face for the rest of my life. "No," said I. Lying of necessity, and hating myself for it. "Yes you have," said Annabelle Lee, and to Katherine Ann, still crying, she cooed, "Never mind, it's better to be done by a gent than by one of them mill-hands, I can't bear 'em." Then in an aside to me,, "Leave off her, don't be a fool." A feeling of relief washed over me and I went out of the room. Annabelle Lee followed me. "You know," said she, "some one would have done her soon anyway. But she tells me you gave her ten pounds for her trouble." "Yes," said I, "Well it happens I came into some money this morning. I haven't had time to purchase a nice present for you, though it is my intention to do so." "Ten pounds would suit me just fine," said Annabelle Lee as she sat on my lap and gave me a kiss. I went with her suggestion and slipped my hand down from her neck to her chest. I put my hand over her pear-sized tit and squeezed and then rolled her nipple between my fingers as her hand came down over mine. I thought she was going to stop me. I was wrong. She moaned and pushed her chest out as if to encourage me to do more. I grasped her blouse at the edge and lifted it up. There was a slight hesitation and then she raised her arms to let me get it off. She was sitting there naked from the waist up. Her pear-sized tits were there for me to see and I wasted no time in getting to them. Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 01-02 I went back to playing with one with my hand and leaned down to take the other nipple in my mouth. I sucked on it and nibbled on it and generally played with it for several minutes. I alternated between kissing her and sucking on her nipples, each in turn. She moaned out her rapture as her hands went behind my head pulling me close then her fingers were entangled in my hair. As we continued to kiss and I fondled her tits she moved her hips forward toward the edge of the chair. "Ummm," she purred, "you've lovely hands Mr. Fogg." "I thought you might like them," said I, trying to put a similar purr into my voice. She stretched, catlike and purred again. "Oh, do rub me nippy, kind sir." Holding her tiny nipple twixt thumb and forefinger, I rolled it back and forth, exerting slightly more pressure with each roll. "Oh," said she, "Tis lovely that." I applied a trifle more pressure and Annabelle Lee shuddered in delight and her mouth fell open quickly followed by her shuddering once more and then several rapid gasps for air. Annabelle Lee was not the only one becoming excited. The blood was pounding through my body, quickly filling the membranes of my throbbing prick. Sure enough, that little nipple became erect between my fingers, allowing me a firmer grip. I was afraid my pinching fingers would hurt her, but she just writhed in pleasure even more. Suddenly Annabelle Lee was not longer sitting on my lap. For Katherine Ann had rushed into the room and shoved her violently off me and onto the floor where she landed with a loud whomp! "Tis not fair!" screeched Katherine Ann, as she seethed with the hatred only a sibling can generate so quickly. Tearing her blouse from her shoulders she cried out, "Feel mine too, Mr. Fogg, sir," she cried, "Feel mine. They're nice are they not?" Having uttered those words she gripped both my wrists and planted my hands firmly upon both breasts. "Bitch!" Annabelle Lee screamed and the two sisters were at each other, rolling around the floor like cats and dogs embroiled in a fight to the death. Scratching and biting and slapping and gouging until I managed to clear myself away from them, fetch a bucket of water and dowsed the both of them. I recall congratulating myself on getting them equally wet. "ENOUGH!" I bellowed and suddenly they were like two sopping wet kittens cowering in fright at my voice. "Annabelle Lee," said I, "and I mean only you, get up, let me have a look at you." She clambered to her feet and stood chest huffing, whist I casually inspected her for any serious injuries. "Move your left arm," said I. She did and no apparent difficulty. "Shake your wrists." Her right wrist was strained somewhat, but not broken. I came by my medical training in the Crimean, where we often had no medical assistance available to us and relied on one another to sort things out amongst us. Annabelle Lee had a deep scratch under her left eye and I sent her off for what might pass for bandage in this household. Surprisingly she returned as I was examing her sister with the perfect patchwork needed to make her repairs. Katherine Ann had a bite to contend with and I swapped it out with a mouthful of rum which I spat on her wound and caused her to cry out from the sting and then giggle from my action in spitting upon her, which for some inane reason she found to her liking. Using my best military parade ground shout, I commanded them to "SIT!" They sprang to attention, or at least a form of it, then they realized I had meant for them to sit and they fell over each other trying to do so. I had all I could do to keep from laughing as they were so comically ludicrous at that moment. They sat and I stood at parade rest facing them. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You both want me to fuck you, is that right?" Neither sister spoke, but both nodded their heads in the affirmative, searching my eyes for approval. I decided to hold the advantage as long as possible and play them off against each other. Perhaps I would be fucking the both of them by afternoon's end. "First I want to clear the air here. As a gentleman it would be unbecoming for me to disparage one of you over the other. I will not, for example, say that one of you has nicer or plumper tits than the other. Is that understood?" They chimed out their response in unison. "Yes sir!" "Truth be told, you are both fine looking young ladies. Both of you have already provided me with a fine fuck. In fact each of you has graciously bestowed your virginity to me and for that I am most grateful." I took a step forward and bowed. It was a rather tawdry move, but it set perfectly with both girls as I thought it might. "Now it would be best if we all removed our clothing here and now," I said and we did. All three of us looking at the other as if to see what if anything the other had that was special; it ended with both sisters staring at my prick, one with lust in her eyes, the other with incredulity; for Katherine Ann, although having seen my prick earlier had not looked upon it while fully engorged. "Yes, Katherine Ann," I said, "this divine tool twas the instrument took your maidenhead." Her eyes went wide in disbelief. "Amazing is it not?" Annabelle Lee offered to her sister, who could only shake her head in disbelief. "Well, they say seeing is believing," chirped Annabelle Lee, who reached for my hand and escorted me into their bedroom. Katherine Ann scampered in after us and stood at the foot of the bed, her hands supporting her chin. Annabelle Lee, vixen that she was, had separated her folds with her hands, leaving her sister and I to look directly into her hole. "It will fit in there, sister dear. Most assuredly it will. Now come, Mr. Fogg, mustn't keep a lady waiting." "I bet mine feels better inside than Katherine Ann's does," Annabelle Lee challenged. I gave her a hard slap on her arse, and she yelped. "That smarted," Annabelle Lee said indignantly. I promptly gave her another and two handprints glowed across her bun. Katherine Ann giggled happily. "Want another?" I asked. "No!" said Annabelle Lee who had curled into a ball, trembling lest I smack her again. "Poor behavior it was that got you my hand, Annabelle Lee. I won't have either of you teasing or belittling the other." I turned to include Katherine Ann and said, "Do you hear me as well?" Katherine Ann stammered that she had and I turned back to Annabelle Lee. "And you?" "I . . . I'll be good, sir, on that I promise." "Very good, then if you would be kind enough to join your sister on the bed Katherine Ann." She was quick to scamper to the bed and hop upon it. She chose to place a hand over the mount of Venus as if it were a fig leaf. I hastened to remove it, leaving the two cunt's facing me whilst I took my time in examining them. "Ladies," I said after a minute had passed, "I behold two magnificent cunts before me. Both of which are truly lovely and as I said, magnificent." Annabelle Lee lightly swatted her sister as if to say, 'there I told you so.' I climbed upon the bed, joining them, myself at the foot, them midway on the bed. "Now," said I, "you'll each have a turn so no catty remarks from either of you." I reached out and gently touched the pouting, provocative lips of Annabelle Lee's twat, still spread open by her thumbs. The girl trembled with anticipation waiting for me to stick my weapon into her. But I didn't. I recalled the distinctive flavor from Katherine Ann's nearly hairless quim and stared directly into the coral colored membrane centered in the midst of a very thick bush of black hair. Leaning forward, I inhaled to savor the smell of Annabelle Lee's twat. It had a most peculiar odor, very unlike her sister's and I found that odd. I became aware of my Annabelle Lee's arse and my hands found their way up and under it, taking hold of each plump cheek in turn, marveling at the manner in which the muscles played under the taught skin as she moved. Felt how her arse rippled as she rubbed herself against me. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she whooshed, gasping for breath. Twas then that my face plunged down upon her quim and I commenced to licking, then sucking, then fingering and licking simultaneously. Then Annabelle Lee spent. She held her breath while the first cramp tormented her cunt with its pleasure. She let out a dry wheeze as the vanquished breath suddenly rushed back into her lungs and seemingly burned her throat. I located her clitoris and sucked hard on it reveling in feeling it expand under my tongue. She held her breath again but Time I heard a soft purring sound --- a sound of delighted contentment. I fingered her cunt rapidly while nipping at her clitoris and heard the purring sound once again I sucked more earnestly and suddenly the purring sound gave way to a series of muffled cries as she violently climaxed. Shuddering, trembling and spasming wildly, I was compelled to remove my self from atop her person to avoid being damaged by her churning knees and arms. Rolling atop Katherine Ann, I assured her that her sister was perfectly all right although I had no such knowledge. She took this advice in and inquired as whether I'd be doing the same to her. I smiled up at her and said, "I certainly hope to darling." But Annabelle Lee interrupted me at that point to express her gratitude, burying her face in my neck and nibbling the skin there, giving me goose bumps from the ticklish sensations. "Sorry, I'm heavy, aren't I?" She purred and rolled off me. "I must let her have her turn, sorry again," she giggled. Katherine Ann smiled down at me. "Oh, and I was so mad at you," she said and I wondered how her teeth remained so brilliantly white while mine were dull and yellow although I rinsed every day. "Mad when I heard you and Annabelle Lee . . ." she was still prattling on. "Ancient history or it should be by now, Katherine Ann." "What you just did to her . . . what's it called?" "What? Oh, that, well it's gamahuching I suppose, although the French undoubtedly have a number of expressions for it." She tried the word out on her tongue and made gamahuching sound positively lovely. "Now whilst Annabelle Lee rests, we should enjoy ourselves, do you not agree?" "Yes," she replied, "Let's enjoy everything!" I positioned Katherine Ann so that I had full access to her quim. First off, I addressed her mons, the pubic bone above the nick as it were. Using both hands, I began to move the mons as if giving a shoulder massage. But with infinitely more care, not pressing to hard, not making to wide a circular movement. I awaited the first sigh of arousal and it came soon after by way of a short moan. Continuing with the mons massage, I lowered my face to her cunt lips and slowly licked her folds using up and down sweeps of the tongue. The moans increased in both number and intensity as I continued my gamahuching technique; that is if trying out for the first time can be termed as having a technique. Her clitoris emerged from its hiding place and I thought to titillate her by using the various surfaces my tongue afforded to do so. I was surprised at the resulting reaction. Katherine Ann began to writhe, humping her mons up to meet my face, making demands that I was not ready to grant and to my surprise when I removed my mouth from her quim, she screamed, "Put it back there, else I'll die!" I put it back upon her and used a short series of flutter-like strokes as I was tiring quickly. "YES!" she screamed and guessing that I was on to something I forced myself to continue with the fluttering tongue licks, alternating with short sessions of sucking on that infamous little man in the boat to rest my love muscle. "Lovely it is!" Katherine Ann advised as she continued to twist and writhe under my ministrations. "Oh, God yes!" she whimpered as my fingers began crawling along her thigh to her center orifice, for she well knew their goal. As they did themselves, slithering through her slippery slope and as luck would have it, they spread slightly apart as they moved over her sparsely haired mons until one finger found her slightly opened slit as if by accident. Her slit was strewn with what I thought to be pearls of wetness; pearls compressed so closely together they might have been one long streak of wet flesh. I felt the different texture that represented her silken folds as they parted on feeling the first pressure of my fingers. Twas a wonderful, exquisite, velvety softness; warm, wet and silky soft. Katherine Ann's quim readily accepted my finger as it slid inside the soft folds. Her body shivered a little as I buried my finger up to the second knuckle. Then she reached down and took hold of my wrist. "Don't move," she panted in my ear. "I don't want to spend on your finger." This was indeed a new phase of fucking to me. First Annabelle Lee had come after a few well placed licks and now her sister was about to do the same. My prick throbbed with the anticipation of a fine fast fuck, but it appeared that that would not be the case. Katherine Ann pulled my hand away, but kindly as opposed to roughly I noted. And quick as a wink, she was holding the head of my prick to the mouth of her cunt. In I went. It seemed impossible, but I was certain she was tighter this time than when I'd taken her maidenhead a scant hour ago. Tighter or not, I got my entire prick up her this time to both our satisfactions. I could feel every wrinkle, every nook, every ripple, every contraction and every release in Katherine Ann's twat. We lay there, facing each other, me on top of her, as we slow fucked. It was tender, yet grew in intensity. It worked out that we built up to our orgasms in unison. Then we spent --- exploding in unison. Katherine Ann became a quivering mass in my arms and I hardly had the strength to hold her shaking body tightly against me. "Mmmmm," she whispered with her lips pressed against my cheek. "I must give you back the ten pounds, sir. You . . . what you have just given me you should not have to pay for. If I had any money me self I'd be showering it on you for making me feel like I've died and gone off to heaven." We kissed for the longest time and when it ended I found Annabelle Lee's mouth waiting to kiss me in turn. That kiss lasted so long that I was making little circles on Katherine Ann's quim with my fingers, until she wriggled to the left and my fingers sank into her wet warmth. Not wanting to incur any jealousy between the sisters, I sank my teeth into Annabelle Lee's breast and chewed lightly, but vigorously on that circle surrounding her nipple. My fingers kept moving adroitly within Katherine Ann's twat which was awash with her juices. Her hips were moving against my hand, hoping to compel my fingers further on, but I did not think that a wise thing to do as she had only recently given up her virginity and I wanted to fuck her at least once more this fine day. Taking Annabelle Lee's nipple twixt my teeth, I happened to look up and saw her eyes darting back and forth between the sight of her sister's quim being rubbed by my fingers and my red hot poker of a prick which was pulsing uncontrollably. I moved to the other breast and chewed the nipple until she moaned. I eased off, thinking to kiss her sweet lips, but saw her hand slither quickly between her own legs. A moment later her fingers were plunging deeply into her own cunt. This was the first time I had ever seen a woman masturbate. The precum was coming out of my prickhole so as I first thought that I might be pissing on myself. I left off her teat and placed myself between both girls so that I could access both cunt's simultaneously. Then gingerly pushed Annabelle Lee's fingers aside and replaced them with my own. She thrust her hips up at the shock of my first touch moaning, "Please touch me. Touch me there!" Both girls had their knees drawn up as I alternated my stroking, thrusting in to Annabel Lee, while pulling back on Katherine Ann, A decent rhythm was established and soon enough they were grunting and groaning together. I had this ridiculous thought of having some twenty to thirty young ladies in a similar position with perhaps ten or fifteen beds, all being frigged while moaning out the hymns at Sunday Mass. What a lovely sound that would be. Imagine the "Gloria's" finale as all the women climaxed at the same moment. Both girls persisted in humping against my hands and it made for some difficulty as I did not wish to make any contact with either of their clitoris' I chose instead to investigate their tight little arse holes. I took Katherine Ann first whilst maintaining my frigging of Annabelle Lee. It took some ten seconds of roaming to locate the precise spot and when I touched it she quivered violently. "WHAT?" She managed to blurt out before my finger, wet from her juices slid into the second knuckle. "WHAT ARE YE DOING?" That drew Annabelle Lee from her torpid fugue, but apparently only because she sought more in the way f sexual gratification than my hand was supplying and perhaps there was that element of sibling rivalry wherein she thought her sister might be going one up on her. I should note that while Katherine Ann was making noises over my treatment of her arsehole, she was not moving away. Quite the contrary, her wriggling bun pushed back at my finger, forcing in further in than I had planned. Her face was contorted and her lithe body bent to the side as she clamped her thighs tightly around my wrist, pinning me in place. I met Annabel Lee's eyes and saw that she expected similar treatment and so I left off her cunt and went directly to her arse, found her shitter and rammed the middle finger of my free hand up and into her bung hole. "UGH!" she squealed. At the same moment Katherine Lee eased the pressure on my wrist and I tried frigging the two of them up the arse. It was more difficult than frigging their cunt's, I will say that, but so long as they didn't use their thighs as weapons I was game to continue. Just before I finished playing the 'shitter game' with them I had two fingers working in each bung hole. "NO! NO! Do it again!" whined Katherine Ann. "No stick that fine prick up me cunt!" cried Annabelle Lee. "C'mon sir put it in me!" It twas time for a nice fuck, thought I, and so I wrenched my hand free of Katherine Ann's rump and mounted Annabelle Lee. Katherine Ann spun away from us no doubt to sulk until she thought her turn came round again. Carefully, I placed my cock onto her slit, and began rocking gently forward, rubbing it up and down with increasing pressure. Annabelle Lee's hips rose off the bed to make the contact between us more definite. She was certainly wet enough to convince me that she was now ready for my prick, in fact had been for quite a while. "Ohhh, yeah, rub me harder!" she demanded. "No, no, better to put it in!" As I entered her cunt I looked to Katherine Ann and found her freely frigging her own cunt and from only that brief look I knew she would be spending shortly. While in truth I was atop Annabelle Lee and fucking for all I was worth, Katherine Ann, lying beside us, frigging away, was breathing just as hard as her sister, they were, in fact panting in unison, as if equally sharing in the pleasure my cock was bestowing on the one as it surged in and out.