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Psychology 1 - Virginity 0

By: adam applebiter



Self-confidence was the keystone. Patricia had more than her fair share of problems, he'd used up several pages of his notebook just listing them all, but her poor self-image was his over-riding concern. Crack that one and the rest would come tumbling down. 

Mostly, self-confidence is about empowerment. Persuade the client that they can take charge of, and responsibility for, their own lives and that's that. "You're cured. Have a nice life and please send in the next client on your way out." Patricia's problem was the other sort. She was deeply unhappy with the way she looked: Possibly a valid concern as she had a minor curvature of the spine and saw this as the reason men were not attracted to her. He couldn't just tell her that was rubbish: It wasn't. But a physical abnormality is not an insurmountable problem. How many men aren't married to super-models? How many women aren't dating Brad Pitt? How many happy people haven't got perfect bodies?

* * * * *

Patricia wasn't actually Andrew's client. She was his girl friend's sister: A relationship that pretty much barred Andrew from taking her on as a client. Patricia was over from Portugal, staying with them for a few weeks combined holiday and job hunt. She'd had an interview with the BBC world service: If she got the job, she'd find a flat to rent, otherwise she'd return to Lisbon. 

Elena, Andrew's girlfriend, was a dancer and her rehearsal schedule had given Patricia and Andrew a lot of evenings together. Andrew was a professional good listener and, before she knew it, Patricia was telling him her life story. 

The solution for Patricia's self-confidence issues was not something Andrew would ever even contemplate. It had come from Elena, His girlfriend. Late one night, as she nestled against his shoulder in post-coital reverie, Elena had said "She's a virgin. Did she tell you that?"

"Honey Bunny, you know I can't discuss your sister. Ethics."

"Poo! She's not - couldn't be - your client. Ethics."

"Still - its not appropriate to discuss her. She's learning to trust me and that's a fragile thing. Lets talk about something else - what to do with this stiffy for instance." He raised the duvet with one hand and admired his second wind.

"That's what I'm trying to discuss." Elena rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and pushing herself upright. "Patricia's a virgin - that's her problem. This..." She slid backwards, pressing her bottom against his erection. "...This is the cure."

"You're joking." He looked at Elena's eyes. She didn't look like she was joking.

"I love my sister. I want her to be happy. Tell me that this won't work." She rocked against his cock again.

"It won't. Sure, she needs to get laid, but not by me. She's your sister for Christ's sake! I am not going to sleep with your sister: That'd screw her up in a whole new way. It'd screw us up too, eventually."

"You think I will be jealous?"

"I love you. I won't even risk making you jealous."

"I won't be jealous. You and Patricia are the two people I love most in all the world. She needs this." She looked severely sincere.

"She'd never sleep with her sister's boyfriend. The guilt would stop her, even if I did make a play for her." He couldn't believe what he was hearing himself say. Was he seriously discussing deflowering his potential sister?

"She has a crush on you."

"Really?" Surely he'd have noticed. It was a common problem in his line of work. Trust often translated into fixation.

"Yes, really. And you are very persuasive."

"Persuasive?"

"You seduced me - on our first date too." She smiled as she said it but it raised a valid point. He was 15 years older than Elena and, by the conventional rules, she was way out of his league. She had been 20, talented, startlingly pretty and as bubbly as shook champagne: He'd met her at his own 35th birthday bash. A workout buddy had brought her along as a date. She'd stood her date up by 10pm and that was that. She moved in the following weekend. Every time he looked in the mirror he wondered at his great good fortune. He wasn't bad looking - for 37. An hour a day fighting the battle of the bulge at the gym had given him a reasonable physique though nothing like the male dancers Elena knew so many of. His penis wasn't world beating either - seven inches, perhaps a little more on special occasions and good for two performances a night but nothing to write home about. Yet Elena seemed so happy with him. Best not to dig too deeply into why. 

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes." She pressed back harder.

Andrew could feel the heat of her arousal as Elena's labia pressed against his penis: She was really turned on. The whole prospect was actually exciting her, in which case... It might well be... 

His train of thought careered into a tunnel as Elena moved again, guiding his cock with slim fingers into her body and sinking back down onto his hips, gyrating slowly.

"Ok...ok...But you're gonna have to come clean with her after: Tell her it was your idea."

Elena looked delighted as she flung herself forward and kissed him. That was settled then. As their kiss drew out, his hips started to rock, pistoning him gently inside her. Elena moved in response and their rhythm soon established itself. There was no more talking, just a sharing of body fluids at either end and a frenzy of roaming hands in between. Elena controlled the pace from on top, upping the tempo to the full flash dance pace before climaxing loud and long as Andrew, going rigid, unloaded into her for the second time that night. 

In the darkness, in the guest room, Patricia's cheeks were wet as she listened to the muffled sound of her sister's orgasm. It wasn't the first time - they seemed to be at it every night - but it was the loudest, most obviously ecstatic yet and it all just rubbed salt in Patricia's emotional wounds. Nobody had ever made her feel that good. When the silence returned, she cried herself to sleep.

* * * * *

Patricia finally opened up fully the evening of Elena's final rehearsal. She talked very candidly about a variety of issues she'd previously avoided, even responding positively when Andrew tested how far this new found candour went by asking some seriously personal questions. It was a level of trust born of desperation, but trust nonetheless. 

She summarised her self-image problem with an outburst of, "Nobody wants to fuck a hunchback." Followed by tears behind trembling hands.

"Hunchback? A bit of an exaggeration surely?" It was a very minor curvature: so minor that until Elena had told him, he'd originally thought it was just bad posture.

"It's not an exaggeration."

"Well I don't see it. Show me."

"Show you what?"

"Show me this hump you're going on about. Take off your blouse and show me what all the fuss is about."

"I don't need to take anything off, it's obvious."

"Its obvious that your back is curved but I want to see it in the flesh, so to speak. Take off your blouse please."

A little puzzled and a little mesmerised by the calm monotone of his voice, Patricia started to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. She got to the last button before 23 years of Catholic indoctrination reasserted itself and her hands dropped to her lap, along with her gaze. After a few seconds' silence, she started to sob again.

He crossed the room to where she sat and drew her to her feet. Her gaze was still resolutely downward but she offered no resistance. Walking backwards, he led her to the large mirror and rail he had bought for Elena to exercise with. Turning Patricia to face herself, He stood close behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

"One more button."

Her shaking fingers fumbled with the button but succeeded in unfastening it. 

Andrew could feel his penis swelling at the prospect of seduction. Elena had repeatedly asked him to seduce Patricia, every night for the last week, and the idea had grown into something of a fantasy for him too. And sisters were a common enough male fantasy. 

As the last button yielded, he stroked her blouse from her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms where it hung like loose cotton manacles around her forearms. He carefully swept aside her long, auburn hair, draping it over one of her shoulders to expose her back. A pale scar ran down her spine for 7 or 8 vertebrae, bisected by her bra strap. He touched it gently, feeling her stiffen. Her reflection was still gazing at the carpet. 

"Look at us." His free hand reached around to raise her chin. Slowly her eyes followed and met his in the mirror. "Good." His fingers, touching the scar, traced its length downwards. She shivered. "This is in the way." He tapped the clasp of her bra to indicate his meaning then, without giving her time for cold feet, he unfastened the hooks. Her hands shot up to cup the fabric against her breasts but at least now her back was naked. He stroked her spine with the flat of his hand, feeling the slight curvature, the subtly different texture of the scar and the trembling of the girl. He felt like a predator and it excited him. He reached around to embrace her, placing his hands over hers and easing them downwards to free her bosom. She tried to look away.

"Watch us." He whispered in her ear, drawing her hands free of her breasts. They were surprisingly well shaped and much fuller than her sister's. He gazed at them in the mirror then slowly place his hands where hers had been, cupping a breast in each, covering her nipples.

There were fresh tears on her cheeks as she watched herself in the mirror. She sniffled and tried to object but he cut her off.

"I have a question for you. Will you answer me truthfully?" It was such an odd request that, dumbfounded, she could only nod.

Andrew pressed his throbbing crotch against the small of her back and said, "Am I a pervert who just wants to fuck a hunchback?"

"N-No." She stammered.

"Correct. I'm just a man aroused by the half naked girl in his arms. You have lovely breasts. See." He took his hands away, revealing nipples that had responded to being touched by standing tall and proud. "See. Lovely." He cupped one hand under one breast, this time not hiding the perky pink bit. His other hand stroked her flat smooth belly - so much softer than Elena's six pack - until his fingers slipped into the top of her jeans up to the last knuckle. His fingertips could just reach the waistband of her panties. "Unfasten your jeans."

"B-but Elena...I-I can't..."

"Elena loves you. She has given us her blessing." It sounded melodramatic but this was a 23 year old catholic virgin. "Unfasten your jeans."

Her fingers obeyed him, even while her face registered fear and apprehension. The zip broke the silence, revealing a glimpse of white cotton. The button caused her more difficulty, tight as the jeans were with his fingers crammed into them. He didn't offer any help. She had to do this herself. It took a while but she got there. As the jeans parted, his hand advanced inside her underwear, smoothing down her pubes - lots of pubes - until he could cup her sex in his hand. The knowledge that he was the first to touch Patricia intimately was making his erection painful in his own pants. He pressed her against it.

"Tell me what you want right now." He whispered. His fingers massaged her labia, feeling the moisture and warmth she wouldn't be able to deny.

"I-I" She broke down in sobs again, trying to cover her face.

"Tell me." His voice was soft, kind but insistent.

"Make me a woman!" She blurted. More catholic melodrama.

"You will give me your virginity?" He pressed the point.

"Yes." She was still crying but there was fire in her eyes too now, a fitting match for the heat under his slick fingers. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Setting her on her feet again, he slipped her panties and jeans down in one swift motion, leaving them around her ankles as he urged her back onto the bed. Kneeling, he parted her knees and got his first real look at what makes a virgin. She didn't even trim her pubic hair. Auburn curls spread all over her mons veneris and all but hid her labia. He parted the undergrowth with his fingers, drawing open like petals her outer lips. Leaning forward, he kissed the soft wet flesh before starting to lick and tease her pussy, wanting her to enjoy an orgasm to loosen her up before the painful moment of actual defloration. His delving tongue actually found her intact hymen and his cock throbbed all the harder at the realization. 

Patricia lay back, lost in the sensations. Her mind was awash with thoughts of sin and guilt and all the reasons this was wrong and of her sister and her priest and ... but none of the fleeting thoughts was enough to cling to in the storm of sensations that was blowing in from the nether regions. She had never experienced anything like this before. Even the few times she had touched herself, she'd felt only enough to confirm that it must be sinful and stopped. She'd confessed to the priest once and been severely chastised for defiling her body. 

The sensations and delirium grew and grew until they were the only things there was any room for. Still they grew, until she felt she would explode if it didn't stop. Then she exploded. Her whole body shook with the force of her first ever orgasm. She was too far away from reality to hear her own voice screaming in climactic abandon. The storm subsided, the following calm washed over her and she lay in the warmth of contentment, breathing heavily as Andrew ran his tongue over the very edges of her pussy, mopping up her juices and sending little aftershocks through her body.

Andrew stood and quickly undressed, freeing his rock hard-on at last. He knelt again to gently remove Patricia's jeans and panties from around her ankles. He admired his handiwork, wishing he could capture the image for posterity - Patricia lying legs akimbo with her blouse open but still on and her little pink ankle socks. But he had a job to do. He raised her legs until her calves rested against his shoulders then shuffled closer, his cock bobbing to and fro as it inched toward her now well lubricated vulva. 

Patricia finally opened her eyes as his glans nudged her hole.

"Ready?" He asked her, holding her hips in preparation for the plunge.

She nodded and he thrust forward as hard as he could, meeting only momentary resistance from her maidenhead as he tore through it and buried his cock to the hilt in her. Patricia squealed in high C at the sharp pain but Andrew remained perfectly motionless inside her, waiting for the discomfort to pass. 

When she opened her eyes again, he slowly started to withdraw then, still ever so slowly, pushed back into her, watching for signs of pain.

"Does that hurt?" He asked

"A little. But it's not bad."

"The worst is over. You're a woman at last. How do you feel?" He continued to stroke in and out gently.

"Sore... but wonderful."

"See that?" He withdrew halfway and pointed to her vagina. Patricia propped herself up on her elbows to see. There was a trace of blood on his penis. "That's the remains of your virginity." He pushed back in, picking up the pace a fraction to test the waters. She didn't wince so he carried on, picking up steady speed.

Patricia lay back again as the newfound sensations of pleasure warmed her and eased away the discomfort. She was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside when Andrew tensed and something scaldingly hot flooded her insides. As he relaxed, she realized he had come. 

Andrew slipped out of her slick hole and stood shakily before flopping onto the bed beside her and drawing her close.

They kissed. Patricia noticed how odd his mouth tasted but it was a few seconds before it dawned on her that what she was tasting was her. The realization froze her momentarily, prompting concerned looks from Andrew. It wasn't a bad taste though: She kissed him again. The phone rang.

Patricia practically levitated off the bed, her expression one of shock and guilt simultaneously. Reflexively, she started to fasten her blouse, only succeeding in getting it even more entangled with her bra.

Andrew made a long arm and picked up the receiver. "Hi Honey Bunny." He took a guess it would be Elena. "...We've had a lovely evening. How were rehearsals?" He watched Patricia scrabbling for her knickers while Elena explained that they would be rehearsing very late and she was going to stay over at Bettina's flat as they had last minute stuff to discuss before tomorrow's opening night. "...Sure Honey. You have a good time. Don't stay up too late." Patricia had one leg back in her jeans now. "... I'm taking your sister to The Sanctuary tomorrow." This was a personal code to tell Elena that he'd seduced her sister because he'd stressed that a full make-over was an essential part of her 'treatment'. On the other end of the phone Elena was elated at the news. "...Yes, everything's fine here." Patricia was fastening her jeans. "... See you tomorrow night, Darling. Kisses." After a few seconds more, Andrew stretched to hang up the phone and appeared to notice Patricia, fully dressed, for the first time since she'd fled his bed.

"Elena's very happy for you. She says to tell you she loves you."

Patricia fell to her knees and buried her face in the duvet, sobbing her heart out.

Andrew had expected this. The guilt of sleeping with her sister's boyfriend combined with the catholic guilt of... well... being catholic, had caught up with her. He stood, bollock naked and lifted her to her feet. She struggled a little but soon clung to him, hiding her face on his shoulder and blubbering. As he held her close, he let his hands wander over her bottom and her back, stroking the curve of her spine from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back. After a few minutes, she was all sobbed out. He eased her away from his shoulder and kissed her puffy eyelids and tear streaked, still wet cheeks. When he got to her mouth, her lips slightly parted and tremulous, he kissed her forcefully, passionately, using his hands on her ass to pull her hips against his. When she started to return the kiss properly, he knew she was past the worst of the guilty feeling.

He undressed her again, unfastening the buttons himself this time, then led her into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It wasn't a proper cubicle, just an electric shower over the bathtub and a plastic psycho curtain. However, there was room for two. He urged her under the warm water and took his time washing her thoroughly, lingering when he reached her mat of pubes. It'd been several first times for him too: First time with a virgin, first time with a girl who'd never even trimmed her hair down there and first time he'd fucked two sisters. He was feeling very good about how it had all worked out. He made sure Patricia's pussy was clean - it had been a bit musky after a day in tight jeans and he'd given her no time to freshen up.

When he'd rinsed her off, she washed him. His penis had risen steadily as he soaped her up and she'd watched its rise with fascination. Now it firmed up under her slippery caress and the tingle of warm water. By the time he was clean, he was also ready for a second bite of the cherry.

They towelled each other off and went to bed. Patricia was very quiet as she snuggled against him and he realized that she was going to be too sore for another fuck and it was too soon to introduce her to the art of fellatio. Resigned, he closed his eyes and slept. Tomorrow was soon enough for talking and fucking. At least she'd stopped crying.

* * * * *

Patricia woke to find Andrew sitting on the side of the bed in a bath robe, sipping coffee. There was a second steaming cup on the bedside table. 

"Good morning Sleepy Head." He put down his cup and bent over to buzz her lips. "How're you feeling today? Sore?" As he straightened up he flicked back the duvet, revealing her naked body to the knees. She instinctively tried to cover up but he caught her wrist and drew the five-finger fig leaf aside. She relaxed, easing her thighs a little as his hand sought a path between them. His fingers on her sex felt good and she spread her knees wider.


Psychology 1 - Virginity 0 Ch. 02



[Author's note. This story is an immediate continuation of Part 1, which I urge you to read first if you expect any of this to make sense.]

*

A while later, the girls shared a shower. They washed themselves but, when it came to rinsing off, Elena took charge of the shower-head and played it over Patricia's body, washing the suds down until she reached her sister's crotch. Here, she inverted the nozzle so that it blasted tingling needles of hot water up against Patricia's vagina, prompting a shriek.

"Stand still." Elena chided, laughing at the squirming girl. "Haven't you ever masturbated with a shower before?"

"I-I" Patricia was having difficulty speaking with what the water was doing to her. She tried to stay still but it wasn't easy. "I've never... masturbated...at all."

"Never?" Shrieked Elena, disbelief all over her face.

"N-No. I touched... there, once or twice but I knew it was wrong. I had to do a lot of penance-"

"You confessed it?" Elena had had the same traditional catholic upbringing but had been rebellious even as a little girl. Patricia had always been 'the good one'.

"Yes...Oh...Oh!" Patricia's first shower assisted climax cut off any further responses.

Elena mercilessly kept the jet right on Patricia's clit, prolonging her orgasm as much as possible. She waited until her sister had stopped shaking and was merely trembling and breathing heavily. "Oh, my poor little sister." Elena pressed herself against Patricia, kissing her wetly. "See what you've been missing?"

Patricia nodded but looked less than happy. "But, the Bible says-"

"The Bible says men mustn't 'spill their seed wastefully'. It doesn't mention what women can get up to. Andrew told me that homosexuality was illegal here until a few years ago but that lesbianism never was because Queen Victoria didn't believe there was anything two women could do together that was immoral."

"But-"

"No buts. Sex isn't sin. It's fun, it's the best way in the world to share love and it's changed you in so many wonderful ways but it's not sinful." Elena kissed Patricia again, noting the improved response and the hard nipples pressing into her own tits. 

Patricia looked mollified. 

"Now let's go to bed. Andrew 'll wonder why we're taking so long." 

They got out, dried off and returned to the bedroom, both wrapped in bath towels. Andrew was fast asleep. Quietly, they slipped under the duvet to join him, Patricia getting to be in the middle. She eased herself as close as possible to him, feeling his now limp penis come to rest against her bottom. Carefully, she snuggled under his arm and held her own out beckoning Elena to do likewise. 

* * * * *

Patricia awoke slowly. There was a warm, tingly feeling between her legs. She sighed with pleasure. As she became more aware, it dawned on her that there were fingers down there, responsible for the feeling. They weren't hers so it must be Andrew. She hummed and eased her legs a fraction apart.

"Shh. You'll wake the baby." Elena's voice.

Patricia's eyes sprang open, shocked. If Andrew was still asleep...

Elena was grinning at her with affection. It was Elena's hand between Patricia's legs: Elena's finger dipping into her slippery vagina. Patricia reacted by clamping her thighs tight, inadvertently trapping Elena's hand exactly where it was.

"Silly sister." Elena whispered. "Relax. You'll enjoy it more." Her free hand reached for Patricia's breast, tweaking first one nipple, then the other, into life. Slowly, Patricia relaxed, letting Elena move her fingers once more.

"Good girl." Elena leant close to whisper, nipping Patricia's earlobe gently while she was about it. "Touch me too."

Patricia made no response.

"Touch me Patricia. Touch me just like I'm touching you." Elena held her sister's gaze, willing her to obedience. Momentarily she felt tentative fingertips on her silken pubic mound. Feather light they traced down between her parted thighs, finding Elena's labia. 

Silently, the girls caressed each other, one leading and one responding in kind. The heat of passion flared in two abdomens as slick fingers danced around the tiny clitoral buds, kindling fire. Faint sighs and whispered moans suffused the shrinking space between them until their lips met and their tongues entwined. Nipples grazed against nipples as the girls writhed in ever increasing urgency. Their joined mouths muffled and swallowed the noise of their shared climax.

"Wow. That was sexy." Andrew was awake. He grinned lecherously past Patricia's curls at Elena. "Sisters are doing for themselves, huh?"

"How long have you been awake?" Elena asked as he propped himself up on an elbow for a better vantage.

"About 5 minutes. It's hard to sleep with two wriggling girls sharing the bed."

"Oh, did we wake you? We did try to be quiet."

"S'ok. I wouldn't have missed that for a gold clock. Next time, wake me first so I can watch it all."

"Pervy!" Elena stuck out her tongue.

"That, from a girl who pimped her boyfriend to her sister then used it as an excuse to indulge in lesbian incest!" He fell back onto the pillow, laughing.

"Elena." Patricia's voice was small and calm. She waited until she had Elena's full attention. "I don't mind if he watches us." She blushed at her own admission. "Last night... in the shower... I pretended Andrew was there too... and..."

"What's this?" Andrew's curiosity was suddenly piqued.

"Elena showed me how to use the shower to... you know... it tingles." Even after all she'd done with him, she had difficulty saying some things. 

"I taught her shower head masturbation." Elena clarified, as if he hadn't understood. It was probably a good thing to keep using the words to desensitise her coy sister. "Andrew Darling, did you know that..." She thought better of being indiscrete. "Never mind."

"You can tell him." Mumbled Patricia, her pink face buried in her sister's sparse bosom.

"Before you seduced my little sister, she'd never had an orgasm. No wonder she was so... uptight." Elena stroked Patricia's hair parentally and looked meaningfully at Andrew.

Patricia struggled free and turned over to face him. "And you rescued me from my ivory tower." She kissed him, taking the lead for the first time. "Thank you." Another deep kiss. "Thank you, my knight in shining armour."

"And fairy godmother." Observed Elena, throwing off the duvet to uncover them all. Andrew's cock sprang up, erect and proud and eager to join the party. "Is that the fairy godmother's magic wand or the knight errant's lance?" 

"If there's any justice in the world, it's the subject of your fellatio 101 tutorial." Andrew wanted a blow job. More than that, he wanted a double header. He'd worked hard the last two days and he reckoned he was due some serious head.

Patricia's hand had somehow found its way to the base of his cock and she was looking at it thoughtfully as he negotiated with Elena. She understood what he wanted and... well... he had done it to her... and she'd loved it. Her anxiety, such as it was, centred on not knowing how and not wanting to disappoint him. She need not have worried. Elena proved to be an excellent instructor.

After a bit of squirming and shuffling to get Andrew in the middle of the bed with a sister on either side, Elena demonstrated basic blow-job technique, toying with his balls with one hand and stroking the base of his shaft with the other while her mouth engulfed the top half of his penis and her tongue massaged his glans as she bobbed up and down. After a few seconds, she encouraged Patricia to try.

"That's good. No. Don't try to get too much in your mouth. It'll make you gag and that's not sexy. Just work on what's comfortable and let your hands work on the rest."

"That feels great." Andrew sighed, enjoying the feel of a different mouth on his cock. Patricia was a quick learner.

"See Sis. It's easy. Now, vary your tongue movements to tease him more. Try reciting a nursery rhyme." 

Patricia started to mumble.

"Not out loud!" Elena laughed. "Just mouth the words. A song. A poem. Anything that makes your tongue move. He likes Kylie Minogue songs best."

Patricia glanced sideways at her sister and raised her eyebrows.

"True." Elena nodded. "How does it feel now, Darling?" She asked Andrew.

"T'riffic." He moaned, close to orgasm.

Elena didn't want him coming yet. "That's enough Patricia. Stop a moment."

"I hadn't got to the chorus." Patricia said, lifting her head from Andrew's crotch.

"What chorus?" Elena asked, curious. 

"Lord of the Dance." She looked shame faced. "It's the only English song I know." Once she'd said it, suddenly it didn't sound like such a good explanation.

Elena burst into a fit of giggles. "Sister mine! You're cured!" Then to Andrew, "Darling, my sweet, innocent little sister was singing a hymn with a mouthful of you. I think you can stop worrying about our little adventure reaching the ears of a priest anytime soon."

"Who was worried? Patricia, Darling, you don't have to do it in English. But it would be nice if you did it some more - in any language." There was pleading in his tone. He'd been so near.

"She made me stop." Patricia was still stroking the base of his cock.

"Because he was about to come in your mouth, Little Sister. Correct etiquette, according to men, is for you to swallow it. Some girls spit it out but that's as unsexy as gagging. Some pull back and let it go all over their faces. Men apparently like to see that but it's us who have to wash it out of our hair."

"Yuk!" Patricia made a face.

"Yuk!" Elena agreed with a nod. "Swallowing is tidier than being splashed and sexier than spitting it out."

"Is it hygienic to swallow a man's...seed." Patricia thought practical for a moment.

"Darling girl." Andrew said. "If you're worried about that, the guy's cock shouldn't be in your mouth to begin with."

"Or anywhere else." Elena observed. "Patricia. You take one side. I'll take the other and we'll see how fast we can make him squirt... And if you don't want to swallow it, I do." Elena pressed her mouth to the side of Andrew's cock, nibbling him gently and massaging him with her outstretched tongue. 

Patricia followed her sister's lead, working up and down his full length. Andrew put his head back on the pillow and sighed. God! It felt good. As the first surge of his orgasm rose from his tensed hips, Elena pulled away and warned Patricia. Patricia didn't hesitate. She clamped her mouth over the end of his cock and lashedit with her tongue. Andrew growled as he came, squirting hot semen across Patricia's tongue and splashing the roof of her mouth with his second salvo. Patricia gulped and it was gone, except for the slightly brackish aftertaste. It hadn't tasted bad though. When the last dribble of semen had been swallowed and the cock in her mouth had stopped twitching and started softening, she released Andrew and smiled triumphantly at Elena.

"If you don't like the taste, just go down further next time so he misses your tongue entirely. They never notice and don't mind. Other than that, it's just a matter of practice." Elena offered some final words of advice.

"You can practice every morning if you like." Andrew suggested, still catching his breath.

"See how easily pleased men are?" Elena sighed dramatically. "Let's us girls go and shower. Some of us have work to do today."

"Can I watch?" Andrew asked. Patricia looked at Elena for her cue. Elena nodded to her.

""I'll wash you too, if you like." Patricia husked. "I haven't got any work to do today."

"But I have." Said Andrew. Recalling that he had clients at 12.00 and 2.30. "You'd better hurry, or Elena will start without you." He urged Patricia out of bed because Elena had already got up and he could hear the shower running. Patricia, he noted, had a new spring in her step. Her 'therapy' was certainly producing results. He dragged himself to his feet and went to join them. It was quite a show.

* * * * *

Showered, dressed and only half an hour behind schedule, Elena kissed Patricia and Andrew goodbye and ran out the door. They were sat in bathrobes at the kitchen table, getting sticky on toast and marmalade. Andrew glanced at the clock: 11AM. He had an hour before his first appointment. 

"Patricia Darling."

"Mmmm?" 

"I need the house to myself this afternoon. Work. D'you think you could take 4 hours of shopping?" He made a long arm for a notepad and biro. "I'll give you a list." He started to jot something down.

"Mmm." Patricia nodded, still with a mouthful of toast. She watched him write several lines then accepted the list and read it.

underwear - must be thongs because I like looking at your bottom ;-)

dresses - anything you definitely couldn't wear to church

trousers - black. fitted. remember I like looking at your bottom

shoes - at least an inch higher than any of your others

p.s. don't forget to pop by The Sanctuary and pick up your old clothes

She smiled to herself. "I thought it was my bosoms you liked to look at."

"Only when you're facing me. When you walk away..."

"My bottom is bigger than Elena's too."

"Your sister has a dancer's figure. You have traditional curves. You shouldn't try to make comparisons. It's like comparing the Venus de Milo with Beethoven's 5th - Their both beautiful but for totally different reasons."

"So which am I?"

"Neither. I wasn't being literal. You're just a pretty girl who needs to start dressing like one so men - other men - will notice. Because, if were going to join a nunnery, you would have done so by now so it's about time you explored your other options. If you start to look sexy, you'll start to feel sexy. Trust me."

"I do trust you. But I can't afford all this. I have a budget." 

"You can afford it. I saw the salary figure."

Patricia looked puzzled.

"Oh! I forgot to give you the letter! I picked up the post while you girls were toasting breakfast. The BBC offered you the job." He got up and fetched the letter. By the time he got back to the table, the news had sunk in and Patricia's cheeks were once again wet with tears - the crying happy sort. He put his arms around her shoulders, bending to kiss her neck and hug her. Needless to say, he hadn't forgotten the letter at all, just waited until it afforded him another opportunity for positive reinforcement of Patricia's fragile new sense of self-esteem.

She held his wrist and pressed back against his body, trembling with joyful emotion. She could stay in London now! Be near her sister. Be near Andrew. Be herself - her new self. She drew Andrew's hands apart, drawing one down onto her breast, displacing the bathrobe in the process. Her nipple hardened on contact and she sighed at the new and familiar touch.

Despite his cock's conditioned reflex, Andrew was all too aware of the time. He gave her a minute or two then gently extracted his hand, kissed her on the crown and reminded her that he had work to do and she had a shopping list. 

Andrew's first client paused in the hallway to glance back and check out the young woman who'd just brushed past him by the fire door. Patricia never even noticed him scoring an eyeful of décolletage.

* * * * *

Patricia surprised herself with her purchasing decisions. She walked away from Bond Street laden with bags of underwear and clothes from shops she wouldn't even have gone into a week ago. The lingerie wasn't as daring as Andrew's choices but she fervently hoped he'd approve. She'd got three dresses too. The sort she always thought of as Elena dresses rather than Patricia dresses. She chided herself for using such labels: Andrew would, she knew, go on at length about not trying to be her sister. 

She'd got the job! She'd got the job! She'd got... Yes! Life in London beckoned. A new city, a new start and a new life. She was buzzing with excitement at the prospects... and Elena and Andrew were there for her. It felt so good to be so cherished.

At 4pm she found a payphone and called Andrew.

"Hello-"

"Hi."

"Oh, it's you" He sounded pleased to hear from her. "Finished your retail therapy yet?"

"Yes. I have lots of new clothes that I wouldn't wear in Cascais."

"You're not in Cascais. What I want to know is will they look good in a heap on our bedroom floor?"

Patricia giggled coquettishly. "You are interested in only one thing from me."

"Of course. The book I'm writing about you will make me famous. I'm gonna call it 'Fabricat Amor Vincit Omnia'"

Patricia recognised most of the Latin and, speaking a Latin rooted language, translated it all easily - well, so she should. The BBC had just offered her a job as a translator. "Making love conquers everything."

"Exactly. How sex with your therapist can make you a happier person."

"You're crazy."

"Tell me something I don't know. Like what you want to do for dinner tonight."

"I want a picnic."

"A picnic?" 

"Yes. A picnic. I found a shop called Fort..."She glanced at her handful of bags to try and read the name. It was buried behind her new trousers. "I think it was called Fortis and something."

"Fortnum and Mason?"

"That's it. You are clever. I've bought us some bread and French cheese and cold meat and fruit and a bottle of wine. We can go to the park and have a picnic."

"What a lovely idea." Andrew was honestly impressed at this proactive behaviour. Patricia was being quietly assertive and romantic. It was a very positive sign. That was Andrew's opinion as a therapist: As a man, he simply thought of canoodling on the grass in St James' Park.

"We need something to sit on...and a corkscrew. Where will we meet?"

"There's a magazine kiosk just up the road from Fortnum & Mason, right by the gate to the park. I'll be there in half an hour. Ok?"

"Ok...Oh, and don't forget the corkscrew."

The pips announced that her money was running out.

"I won't. Blanket and corkscrew. I've written it down... Patricia..."

"Yes Andrew."

The phone went dead in her hand. She hung it up with a shrug and strolled along to the park gate.

Andrew was predictably punctual. He found her leafing through a copy of Cosmo and, after nuzzling her neck and getting a swan necked peck in return, he eased the magazine from her hands, closed it and put it back on the rack.

"Those magazines are evil. They're designed to make women feel unhappy with how they look. Elena had one - Vogue, I think - that actually published a survey that showed 98% of women are unhappy with their bodies. Images like that..." He pointed at the cover of the magazine she'd been reading. It showed a very slim and admittedly very beautiful woman in a backless gown. "...are why you, Darling Patricia, were so unhappy." He kissed her neck again, allowing her to get a word in edgewise.

"I was just looking at-"

"You were just looking at perfect women in perfect outfits, with perfect lighting who, when the camera stopped clicking, went back to lives full of anxiety as they wait for the day when the phone stops ringing because they're too old or have put on four pounds or long hair is in fashion this year or they're too light or too dark or... Anorexia and bulimia only exist because of these magazines. These beautiful girls..." He gestured expansively at the whole shelf of fashion magazines. "...are all as unhappy about their bodies as you were two days ago. Though none of them would admit to it. And you know what?"

"What?" Patricia, realizing he was going to go on for a while had settled back into his arms. She liked to hear him talk like this - like a counsellor - He got so... animated. 

"There's no helping them."

"Why not?"

"Because Elena would never let me." He squeezed her tight.

Laughing, Patricia twisted around to face him and kissed him properly. "You wouldn't have time. I'm not cured yet." She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and hugged him tight, feeling all warm and tingly in her abdomen. She'd become very conscious of the fabric of her underwear while shopping and taken off her panties because they were driving her to distraction. The waxing had left her so sensitive! Now she was feeling naughty for wearing no underwear in public. She wondered how Andrew would react when he found out.




Psychology 1 - Virginity 0 Ch. 02



He relieved her of her several bags and offered her his free arm. Arm in arm they strolled through the park, looking for a shady spot to have their picnic. They settled down under a two century old oak and Patricia started laying out food while Andrew did man-magic to extract the cork from the bottle. He'd brought disposable napkins, basic cutlery and even two wine glasses: This was not his first picnic. The wine was warm but the rest of the picnic was good and the afternoon sunlight dappling Patricia's calves was a pleasant distraction from tepid chardonnay. When they'd finished eating, Andrew rummaged through the shopping bags to see what Patricia had bought herself. He was especially interested in the lingerie, holding up bras and thongs, stretched between his thumbs for inspection. At the bottom of the bag, he found plain cotton panties. He held them up and recognised them instantly. He looked at Patricia meaningfully. 

"You changed already?"

She shook her head. Andrew was quick on the uptake.

"They were getting damp..." Patricia glanced down coyly. It still wasn't easy to talk so boldly. Andrew fingered the gusset of the panties thoughtfully. 

"So I see." He pressed them to his mouth and nose briefly then put them back in the bottom of the bag. "Elena did say you'd be very sensitive after the depilation. She always is, but she said it would be much more so for you, first time." He moved closer to the semi-reclined girl, lifting her chin to force the issue of eye contact. "Do you have any idea how sexy it is to find this out?" He glanced around to make sure there was nobody within earshot. The other park visitors were all quite distant. He eased her long, conservative skirt up her legs. She didn't move a muscle. Her knees were now visible and his hand smoothed its way up her thigh unhindered. He moved closer, lifting her chin and gluing his mouth over hers. Now she responded. 

His hand found its way through the dark and with little urging, eased her thighs enough to let his fingers rest along the smooth lips of her sex. She clamped his hand there. 

"You're a bad girl, going knickerless in a royal park. Now you're going to have to stay really quiet so that nobody will notice - none of that yelling you do in the shower." He gently kneaded her puffy lips between his fingers, pressing his palm to her clit.

Patricia buried her face against his shoulder and moaned. She knew she should feel ashamed but all she felt was passion. While his fingers raised her temperature, his voice, soft and low, crept into her ear, sowing seeds of new fantasies.

"Imagine Elena's tongue doing this. Elena's head buried between your thighs, her tongue delving into your body and thrashing around your clitoris. She wants to. She wants to make love to you without any barriers. She loves you and she wants you two to be lovers. She wants to feel your breath between her legs just before you kiss her pussy. Imagine how good it would feel ... being licked by your sister and licking her to orgasm in return. Hmm. It makes me hard just to think of it. I know you want it too. I can feel how much you want to make love with Elena..." He stopped talking as Patricia trembled and clamped his hand tight as she stifled the sounds of her climax against his shoulder. As she relaxed, he slipped his hand from its warm hiding place, embraced her and steered them both to horizontality on the blanket, holding her close and kissing her softly.

Patricia was still for quite awhile, relaxing in the afterglow of her clandestine climax. Eventually she whispered. "Does she really want to...?"

"Yes. We had a long chat about you earlier and she's as horny as hell for you. And I agree. It's a natural thing for her to feel: She's loved you as a sister all her life and she likes sex with girls so why wouldn't she want to make love to you while you're sharing our bed?"

"She told me it wasn't sinful: that the Bible doesn't say we can't. But..."

"But?"

"But...I... I've never looked at women that way. I love her too but... not that way."

"Yet the idea excited you just now. Or was that just my fingers?"

"Not just your fingers. You made it sound so lovely. It's just..."

"Patricia. Elena is the only woman I've ever wanted to marry and I'm willing to share her with you because she loves you as much as she loves me: More, because she's loved you longer. Being lovers can only make you two closer. Think about it and do what feels comfortable."

"You're very persuasive."

"It's not my job to persuade you. I'm just telling you that you have options you may not have considered. A few days ago, you were shy, embittered, deeply unhappy and - unless I'm wildly off track - you came for the BBC interview because your old life was becoming unbearable and a radical change of environment was the only hope you had." He paused. Patricia nodded solemnly. "Now you have tons more self-confidence. You've laughed more in two days than I've seen you do in the two weeks you've been here. You've got an exciting new job and if waking up naked with your two lovers isn't a radical change of environment, I don't know what is. Tell me you're not happier."

"I am, and I owe it all to you." She leant close and kissed him briefly.

"No. You owe a lot to Elena for loving her sister enough to talk me into it. But you owe most of it to your willingness to embrace change. You must have been terrified, but you took the plunge. I was very careful about that. I didn't want to force you into anything you'd regret later. Remember struggling with your buttons?"

"Yes."

"I could have helped but you had to take every step yourself. I navigated, but you drove. It was an incredibly brave thing you did and you shouldn't give away all the credit for that." He let her kiss him again.

"I'm still grateful for everything you've done for me."

"Grateful enough to buy me a coffee?" He smirked.

"There's still half a bottle of wine."

"I know, but I really feel like a cappuccino."

"It wasn't very good wine. Was it?"

"It was too warm. Stick the cork back in and we'll take it home and refrigerate it."

Patricia tidied up the remains of their picnic, walking as far as the lake to throw the rest of the bread to the ducks and swans while Andrew shook out and folded their blanket.

"Andrew."

"Yes?"

"Do you always open your houseguest's mail?" Patricia had thought about this just after leaving the house. Now seemed a good time to ask him.

"No. I wouldn't have opened yours except that it was in a BBC envelope. I needed to know if it was a job offer or a 'better luck next time' letter."

"You should still have let me open it." Patricia wasn't angry, but...

"And risk sending you out to walk the streets all day with a rejection crumpled up in your pocket? Not on my watch! If that letter had been bad news, I'd have saved it until Elena was home so you wouldn't have to deal with the disappointment on your own." 

"You think of everything. Don't you?" She was hugging his chest again, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

"I try to. So? Am I forgiven for opening it?"

"Of course you're forgiven." She kissed him for good measure.

"Good. Now see the couple behind me on the bench?".

"Yes?" Patricia saw they were about 40 metres away.

"They've been there ages."

"So? It is a park." Patricia was puzzled as to where this was leading.

"So they couldn't take their eyes off us before..."

"Oh!" Patricia's hand shot to her mouth. Had they really seen her? Had they realized what Andrew had been doing to her? She blushed furiously.

"And now we have to walk past them to get to the gate. "This wasn't strictly true: There were other gates. "Hold my hand." He offered it and clasped her fingers reassuringly, picking up all the bags in his other hand. "Now, as we pass them, if they look at us, just smile sweetly - at her, not him." 

The couple did look at them, quite blatantly. Patricia smiled at the girl as she passed, still flushed in the face. As they reached the gate, Patricia could hold her composure no longer and spun into Andrew's chest, hiding her face and heaving with - with laughter. This took even Andrew by surprise.

"Oh Andrew!" She said. "Did you see their faces? He wouldn't even look at us. I think he was more embarrassed than I was."

"And tonight, when they get home, they'll fuck like bunnies because of what they saw in the park this afternoon. You've just improved their sex life - for the short term at least. Did you see he was holding a newspaper on his lap? I bet you a cappuccino - double or quits - that he was hiding an erection."

"No bet. I'm not going to go and ask him - And neither are you! Shameless man! Wait until I tell Elena all this."

"She'll be turned on too. Just like them. Sex is like that. You see it - you want it. If you're getting it anyway then you want it harder, faster, longer and more. Other people's orgasms are the best aphrodisiac in the world. You still owe me a coffee." He urged their steps in the direction of the nearest decent, non-Starbuck's, non-Costa, non-multinational-chain coffee shop.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Patricia was thinking about the girl on the bench and the look they'd shared.

"I did. Did you?"

"She was beautiful."

Andrew realized that this was an opportunity to steer Patricia's thinking in a direction that would lead to Elena. "Patricia, try to imagine her naked. What would you say was her appeal? Specifically?"

Patricia's brow wrinkled in incomprehension.

"What makes her beautiful?"

"She had a very beautiful face. Her eyes... Her eyes were very lovely."

"And her figure? What about her body?"

"She wasn't wearing a bra. Here bosoms were eye catching."

"I noticed. Patricia, you realize that you've just checked out another woman and decided she was sexy?"

Patricia was contemplative for a few yards. "I have. Haven't I? Its all that talk about Elena."

"Its a good thing. Try a few more as we walk. See how people dress to emphasise or display the parts they feel are most attractive. See if you agree with their self-assessment."

They walked on in silence. Patricia looked at the girls that passed them, trying to see them in a sexual context and finding it surprisingly easy. Andrew just looked at the girls for fun. As a very pert youngster exited a shop just in front of them, Patricia spoke low for Andrew's ears only. "That's exactly the pair of trousers I bought today." 

They both watched the girl's bottom moving rhythmically a few steps ahead of them. "Very nice." Observed Andrew. The trousers in question were of the currently fashionable hipster cut that so often flashes glimpses of underwear. The girl wearing them had a black thong on with a diamante something just visible over the waistband. Andrew had decided a long while back that he liked this fashion. Patricia seemed reluctant to take her eyes off the sparkly thing too.

"Good choice." Andrew said as the girl entered another shop and broke the spell. "But what can you tell me about the girl wearing them?"

"She wiggles when she walks. Deliberately."

"And? What did she make you think about?"

"Her bottom was a lot like Elena's... It was... sexy." She finally got it out.

"It was. I'm glad you saw it that way. You'll look better in those trousers though because she was really a bit skinny. Your bottom is rounder."

"Mine's too big."

"No it isn't. Your figure is quite balanced between top and bottom. You have a bottom that compliments the size of your breasts. It's going to look great in hipsters. In here." He steered her into a coffee house and found a quiet table. A waitress came over straight away.

"A large cappuccino please." Patricia ordered Andrew's usual. "And... Make that two large cappuccinos. Thank you."

"We were discussing your bottom and its probably a good opportunity to deal with the whole figure issue. D'you know why we men have the prejudices we do about women's figures?"

"No, but I suspect you're going to tell me."

"Indeed. Because everyone should know who's pulling their strings. This would be taught in schools if I had my way. It's all about babies really. Did you ever see the poster for that Raquel Welch film where she was supposed to be a cave woman? Well for pretty much the whole of human history, the ideal woman was that shape. Even today, though the fashion industry creates aberrations with ideas like heroin chic, look at any teenage boy's bedroom wall - or under his mattress - and the pin-ups and porn will be built like Raquel Welch. It's hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and it bites us every time we get complacent about being civilized and cultured." He paused as their coffee arrived. "Thank you." He sugared his cappuccino before continuing. "That's the ideal shape for a woman because a caveman looking for a mate to bear his children - and that's what he wanted a mate for - would look for a woman with broad hips - we still call them child bearing hips - broad hips to avoid difficult births that could kill mother or baby or both: Decent sized breasts because well fed babies grow strong and are more likely to survive the rigours of caveman life: good skin is a strong indication of healthy diet and no nutritional deficiencies: Supple limbs and a flattish belly indicate that she is strong and therefore not lazy. So there you go. Hips are for bearing babies, tits are for feeding babies, complexion is for surviving long enough to raise babies and good legs are for running away from danger carrying babies. If she could cook, it was a bonus but in caveman society there would have always been older females around to do that."

"That's so sexist."

"Not really. The point is that the ideal female form isn't primarily about sex - it was always about the odds of survival - yours, his and the baby's. The women who looked like that would choose men that had broad chests, slim hips & obvious strength for similar reasons. They wanted a provider and a broad chest indicated that he was probably handy with a spear while slim hips would imply he was fast on his feet and could chase prey and flee predators with a certain amount of success. Strength was desirable as he'd have to defend his woman against other men and the strongest usually won. The woman wanted a man who could feed and protect her and their children."

"Like animals?"

"Exactly like animals. Everything else in relationships is secondary to the biological imperative. The true purpose of all civilization is to protect the family and ensure that there actually is a next generation."

"So what about women who like older men?" Patricia asked without a hint of self-interest.

"When you see pretty young women on the arms of older men, aren't the men usually wealthy and/or powerful?"

"You're not." She smiled.

"Still. Wealth and power equal the ability to support, protect and provide in our modern world. Some women are attracted to powerful men rather than handsome men for exactly the same biological reasons that Raquel Welch wanted a big strong mammoth hunter."

"And where do you fit in?"

"There aren't enough handsome or wealthy men to go around. I'm just filling a gap."

"What about male characteristics like having a big penis? Didn't that ever cross Raquel Welch's mind?" Patricia is, to her own surprise, caught up in Andrew's train of thought.

"A big penis has often been seen as a sign of virility. Lots of pagan idols had huge phalluses and the maypole was originally meant to be one that virgins danced around and bound with ribbons as a fertility rite. There are exceptions though. After coffee, we'll stroll along to the British Museum and look at the Greek pots. You'll see all the heroic Greek men have tiny penises. The Greeks believed a small penis indicated a higher level of consciousness - more human intellect, less animal instinct."

"You said you didn't have a very big penis. Were you joking? It seemed quite big to me." She surprised herself by being able to ask this without a single hesitation.

"Ask your sister. Elena's had quite a few lovers and she'll tell you that they were all bigger than me. It's a fair bet they could all manage more than twice a night too. I know for a fact they were all younger than me, quite a lot younger. Elena cares too much to hurt my feelings by saying as much but she's had much better lovers in rge past."

"But she loves you."

"There is that. Though God only knows why." He smiled to take the sting out of his cynicism.

"You must know why too. You analyse everything so you must have thought about it."

"Indeed. We have trust. That's a big thing in a relationship. It's not all about sex you know. We make each other laugh. Humour is critical to relationships. A relationship that takes itself too seriously will self-destruct. Ask Elena how I look in a tu-tu. Comfort. That's important too. Neither Elena nor I would ever want someone else's shoulder to cry on while we have each other."

"That's so sweet." 

"But none of that explains love. Nobody has ever explained love. All I know is that Elena's the last thing I want to see at night and the first I want to see in the morning. That, when we're apart, time is just a way of measuring how soon I'll see her and, when we're together, time might as well not exist."

"You really do love her. Don't you?"

"Really." 

"And you still slept with me." Patricia didn't mean this to sound like a bad thing. It just came out that way.

"Firstly, it was Elena's idea. She badgered me into agreeing. But I wouldn't have given in if I wasn't fond of you and attracted to you. If I'd done it just for her, it would have done more harm than good and I'm not in that business. You didn't need to get laid: You needed to be loved, in a very physical sense. I explained to Elena, before I agreed, that it wouldn't - couldn't - be just one night of passion.

Secondly, sharing you with her has brought Elena and I even closer together. You should know that you're welcome in our bed as long as you want. There's no need for you to go flat hunting right away." He stopped because he saw that Patricia was welling up.

"Patricia. Look at me. You should get your own place - have your own space - at some point. You'll be able to afford it and I believe it will do you good to be independent, but there's no hurry." He reached for her hand and found his fingers clasped tight.

"I'm sorry...I'm just being... silly..."

"You're not being silly. You're being emotional. That's not a thing you should need to apologize for. It's been an emotional few days and it'll take awhile to find your equilibrium again. But be mindful of the fact that tears are an aphrodisiac."

"Tears?"

"Yes. A man sees a girl crying and the back of his brain thinks 'She's weak and vulnerable and I'm strong and manly. I'll protect her.' And the next thing you know you're in some guy's arms, soaking his shoulder. Then, when you're all cried out you realize his hands have headed south and he's holding your ass and, when you look up at him, to exclaim your shock at his behaviour, he kisses your open mouth and the rest is biology, a little chemistry and a whole lot of Newtonian physics. And all because you cried." 

Patricia smiled as she wiped away her tears with a napkin. "You have an explanation for everything and it's almost always to do with sex."

"The caveman wasn't to do with sex. It was to do-"

"Enough! I surrender." Patricia raised her hands. She was laughing. Andrew, despite his thesis, found her laughter much more attractive than tears.

* * * * *

After coffee, they walked around the West End and eventually, via Patricia's new place of work, Broadcasting House, found their way to The Young Vic to pick up Elena. There was hugging and squealing and frantic talking in Portuguese, presumably about the job, then there was quieter talking which Andrew supposed was about him. Elena glanced at him questioningly and said "In the park?" 




Psychology 1 - Virginity 0 Ch. 02



Andrew nodded and smirked, now absolutely positive what the girls were gabbing about. 

Then they sounded really serious as though a ball of earnestness was being rallied back and forth with their expressions as rackets. As Andrew watched, the sisters hugged each other tightly and both closed pairs of eyes looked moist. Andrew relaxed: Elena was going to get her wicked way with her sister and they'd all be one big, happy ménage a trios.

Feeling an urgent need to take them home, he popped into the stage door to call a cab.

* * * * *

"The caveman theory?" Elena cast a long-suffering look past Patricia to Andrew. "You were supposed to be being charming and seductive and, instead, you bored her with your pet theory." Elena looked a little exasperated. "Men!"

"He didn't bore me." Patricia rallied to Andrew's defence.

"We were discussing figures and self-image. It was relevant." Andrew added.

"Elena. Andrew is always seductive and charming. I like to listen to him talk. He is so passionate about things."

"I guess I've just heard that theory too often. It bores me." Elena conceded a little.

"And when did you first hear it, Honey Bunny?" Andrew asked pointedly.

Elena thought for a moment than had the decency to blush a touch. "At your birthday party. The night we met."

"The night I bored you into my bed?"

"Well I had to do something to shut you up!" Elena scores a point.

"Indeed? Well today I've been boring Patricia-"

"But I wasn't bored. Andrew, I-" Patricia, not being too quick on the uptake, springs to Andrew's defence but is gently silenced by his finger on her lips.

"Today, I've been boring Patricia into your bed. She's so sick of men who talk too much and rattle on about anthropology that she'll probably do anything for an evening of conversation along the lines of "Ooh...just there...ooh...that feels so good....ooh...I'm coming..."He stretched over Patricia to tug Elena close enough for a serious kiss, his hand resting on Patricia's thigh for balance. As their lips parted briefly, he said "You do still want to sleep with her, don't you?" which was greeted by another, much more forceful kiss. That'll be a yes then, he thought.

Patricia realized, as she heard Andrew's offer to Elena, that she really was going to do it with her sister. The thought, now the certainty was established, stirred warm feelings in her abdomen. She realized that Andrew had known she would, even before she had decided. Had she decided? Or had he? No. Andrew was pretty keen on her making the decisions. She realized too that, while she was busily rationalizing all this, her hand had crept into Elena's lap and was nestling snugly against her crotch. Andrew sat back, brushing his lips against Patricia's as he passed her. 

"When you checked out the girl in the trousers, just before coffee." Andrew could read the question in Patricia's puzzled expression - How had he known before her? "She had Elena's figure and your pupils dilated when you looked at her."

"So long ago?"

"Indeed. That's why I changed the subject and we ended up discussing anthropology - No point in overselling something." His eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Elena..." Patricia turned to her sister, whose expectant glance met hers and started to smoulder. Unable to phrase what she wanted to say, Patricia embraced her sister and relaxed as Elena took the lead. 

Andrew watched them cuddling and nuzzling each other's necks and whispering sweet nothings to each other in Portuguese. He'd done good work today and now he was looking forward to enjoying the fruits thereof.

* * * * *

The sisters finally realized that they had all together too much of the cabbie's attention and disengaged. Andrew mentioned that he had some notes to type up, if they'd like some private time when they got home. There'd be ample opportunity for him to join the fun later and he thought it might be best for Elena and Patricia to have this experience together. Three can be a crowd.

Patricia didn't want to exclude him. Perhaps, he thought, she was clinging to the excuse that it was really a show for him - a way to turn him on. If that was the case, it was even more important that he be elsewhere the first time. 

Elena forestalled any argument by pointing out that anyway, Patricia had shopping to try on and that certainly wasn't Andrew's cup of tea. 

The subject seemed closed until, when they got home, Andrew went straight to his desk and booted his PC. Before it had even finished booting up, there was a girl at each shoulder. 

Patricia's reflection on the monitor looked nervous. The excuse of work clearly wasn't going to be enough: he'd have to make her understand why. He swivelled round to face them.

"Remember our first night together, Patricia?"

"As if I'd forget."

"I had you all to myself and that was wonderful. All Three of us together is a lot of fun but that first time - just two people making love - wasn't that more romantic?"

"Oh."

"Yes. I really, really want you and Elena to have that. Now will you two please go and have a good time? I have work to do for at least a couple of hours and the sooner I get started, the sooner I'll finish. Go on! Scoot!"

Elena bent from the waist to kiss him, her arms draped over his shoulders. "Thank you Darling." She nuzzled his ear. Then straightened up and reached for her sister's hand. "C'mon Sis." She tried to drag Patricia away - unsuccessfully.

"Andrew... I..." Patricia was stuck for words. "Thank you." She kissed him too then let herself be dragged out of the room. 

Andrew turned back to his desk and tried very hard to concentrate on his work. It wasn't easy to put the girls out of his mind, especially when the giggles and squeals got loud enough to be heard through two closed doors. His Walkman helped. Medieval choral works by Abbess Hildegarde von Bingen: Nothing in his CD collection was less conducive to sexy thoughts than that. He finished work about 1AM, turned off the music and noted that the house was silent. 

* * * * *

Elena bounced onto the bed, dragging Patricia on top of her and wrapping arms and legs around her sister. She glued herself to Patricia's lips and kissed her until her sister responded in kind.

On a whim, Elena pushed her away and demanded that she should model her new outfits. Needless to say, lingerie modelling required undressing and the net result of Elena's demand was that Patricia, after much changing and twirling, had stripped herself naked several times and was now wearing only a pretty new bra and thong. Elena ran a finger along the very edge of the fabric, just below Patricia's belly, and glanced up at her sister. Neither girl was giggling now. Elena's look could have melted candles as she let her fingertip trail down the silk towards Patricia's gusset. Slowly, Elena hooked a finger through the panties, drawing them away from her sister's pussy. A moment later, the same finger was slipping between her own lips as she made a show of tasting Patricia. 

Patricia looked down, between her breasts, at Elena sucking her own finger and knew exactly what she wanted. She unfastened her bra, discarded it with a flourish, slipped her now redundant thong down her thighs, kicked it into a corner, then flung herself onto the duvet, looking at her beautiful sister with longing. 

Elena took what was offered. She kissed her way from Patricia's parted lips, via soft breasts and belly, to the little copse of curls nestling at the divergence of her sister's thighs. Without hesitation, Elena's tongue flickered over the soft cleft, teasing dew onto the petals and stealing nectar like a persistent bee. 

Patricia let herself relax, closed her eyes and just allowed the pleasure to wash over her. Nothing so gentle and so pleasing could be a sin. She kneaded her breasts and sighed at the delight this produced. It did not take long for her orgasm to disturb the peace, crashing down on her like a tsunami. She writhed against Elena's mouth, crying out in ecstasy before slumping, sated, back on the duvet, mumbling sweet sentiments to her sister in Portuguese. That had been even better than the first time... with Andrew. The thought of him brought a sudden pang of guilt. He should be here.

Elena stripped quickly and slid alongside her sister, toying idly with one of Patricia's nipples. "You have such lovely breasts, little sister. I think they are your best feature."

"Andrew likes them." Patricia recalled with a smile how Andrew had been transfixed by them in the Restaurant. 

"He would!" Elena looked down at her own, tiny bosom with her oversized, puffy nipples then looked at her sister and made a comically sad clown face.

"But your nipples are much bigger." Patricia sought for some positive detail to offset her sister's obvious under-endowment. She shuffled down the bed a fraction and leant over Elena's torso to suck on one big nipple. It was unbelievably soft between her lips. She had a sudden recollection of them, as little girls, finding an old balloon behind the sofa, weeks after Xmas. It had shrunk to the size of a tennis ball and was misshapen, covered in tiny crinkles and had a nipple shaped lump opposite the knot. Elena's nipple in her mouth seemed just the same texture. Far away, she heard Elena sigh. Had she done that? She released the nipple.

"Don't stop." Elena urged. "That feels really good. She pushed her chest toward Patricia, wanting her to continue. Patricia was more than willing to oblige.

After a few minutes, Patricia felt fingers entwine in her hair and a palm gently urging her downwards. She kissed her way down to Elena's navel, not minding the sheen of perspiration on the skin beneath her lips. She lingered a moment, teasing the tiny knot of flesh before yielding to the pressure of Elena's hand. Elena had no pubic hair at all. Patricia's lips found only smooth, soft skin over which her tongue traced a serpentine route, remembering how Elena had teased her thighs. 

Elena gasped as she felt the first touch of her sister's tongue on her pussy. She'd wanted this moment since she'd seen Patricia and Andrew together. It had been a long time since she'd felt a girl's tongue inside her and she'd missed it. She pushed Patricia's face between her legs, giving her sister no choice but to stop teasing her and get on with pleasing her. 

Patricia had no technique at all but she was eager to learn. Elena steered her sister's attention between clitoris and vaginal opening, getting very vocal when the girl got it right. Patricia soon worked out the basics and not before time - Elena arched her back, raising her pelvis clear of the bed and came loud and long. Patricia, still held by her hair, lapped at her sister's pussy, swallowing the fresh inundation of Elena's juices. She tasted better than Andrew.

Elena came down and finally remembered to let go of Patricia's head. She drew her close and nuzzled her neck, purring in contentment. She kissed away traces of her own excitement from around Patricia's mouth and whispered words of love and thanks in her ear. They lay together, gently touching, and kissing until sleep embraced them both.

* * * * *

Andrew found them still fast asleep. The room smelled strongly of feminine arousal so he figured they'd probably had a good time. He turned out the main light and switched on the bedside lamp. In the softer light, they looked positively innocent, twined in each other's arms, naked and dishevelled. He undressed and sat on the bed beside Elena, his erect penis curving up from his hips. Gently, he shook her shoulder. She stirred.

"Did you girls have fun?" He asked her as her eyes flickered open and struggled to focus.

"Hmm. Yes. Thank you." Elena purred. She nudged Patricia, to wake her too.

"It's late. You two should get into bed properly." Andrew said, then to Patricia. "Wake up, Darling. It's bed time."

"What time is it?" Patricia asked, her eyes still closed.

"One in the morning."

"C'mere." She mumbled, patting the bed behind her, but there was no room that side.

Elena got up first and urged Patricia to her feet while Andrew straightened the rumpled duvet then they all got in. Elena got the middle tonight and snuggled up to Andrew, feeling his erection trapped between his belly and the small of her back. She reached behind her and absently stroked it.

"It's too late, Honey. Save it for the morning."

She wiggled a little closer but did let go of him, drawing his strong arm around her and her sister for security instead. 

Patricia held Andrew's hand to her bosom and let sleep take hold of her again. 

It felt so good to be loved.



Psychology 1 - Virginity 0



"It's a little sore." She winced as his index finger explored a fraction too far. "But... If you want to..."

He smiled at her offer. "Not this morning." He noted how crestfallen she suddenly looked. "Sweet Patricia, there isn't time. You have a busy day ahead of you. Go and have a quick shower to freshen up because you're due at The Sanctuary in less than an hour."

"The Sanctuary?"

"Its sort of a health club. I booked you an appointment yesterday for the works: A full make-over. You want to look your very best for Elena's opening night, don't you?" 

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. Except maybe your butt out of bed and into the bathroom, right now." He slapped what little of her bottom he could reach to punctuate the order.

While Patricia showered, Andrew sat on the edge of the tub and explained her itinerary for the day.

"You'll love it. The Sanctuary is a women only health club. Elena goes there quite often. I'm surprised she hasn't told you about it. You must promise me one thing though. I want you to put yourself entirely in their hands. Think of them as your fairy godmothers because, Cinderella, you are going to the ball tonight.

"What are they going to do?" She wasn't sure what they would do that might require such a promise.

"Just promise to trust them...and me. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Is that a promise? No crossed fingers?"

Patricia laughed for the first time in days. "It's a promise. No crossed anything." She faced him with feet apart and hands and fingers outstretched.

They were five minutes late getting to The Sanctuary in Covent Garden. At the reception desk, Andrew handed Patricia over to the tender mercies of two pretty blondes in white tunics. As soon as she was out of earshot, he turned to the receptionist.

"She has some self esteem issues. I need her to be a swan by 6pm: Everything from hair to toenails - everything. No expense spared." 

The receptionist nodded her understanding. "We don't usually do hair but Trevor Sorbie, just next door, usually manage to fit our clients in.

"Fine. I also need all her measurements. I have..." he glanced at his watch. "Less than 8 hours to get her an evening dress and all the trimmings."

"Less than 6 hours." The receptionist corrected. "If you want her makeup to match her outfit."

"Good point." Andrew was grateful for the insight. He wouldn't have thought of it.

"If you'll just take a seat, I'll get those sizes for you." The receptionist disappeared through a door and was back in about 10 seconds. "Cleo will bring them to you in a few minutes."

"Thank you." Andrew sat and waited. Cleo turned out to be one of the white clad blondes who'd taken Patricia away. She handed him a folded slip of paper, smiled warmly and went back to her work. As he rose to leave, a thought struck him and he turned to the receptionist. "Miss. One more question if I may."

"Certainly Sir."

"I thought perhaps something in a deep wine red. D'you think that would go with her colouring?"

"As long as it's very deep. Black is always a good second choice."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir."

He got to Selfridge's a few minutes later and headed for the women's formalwear department. 

It wasn't difficult to find a shop assistant. All he had to do was stand in the middle of the shop looking out of place.

"Can I help you, Sir?" A very well presented sales assistant asked. Andrew was pleased to see she was over 18. He needed someone with judgement and experience for this.

"Yes. I need a complete outfit for the theatre tonight. Here are the young lady's measurements." He handed her the folded paper. Cleo had thoughtfully jotted down Patricia's colouring too - Auburn hair, brown eyes, light tan.

"I see. It will not have to be too fitted." She gestured what fitted meant in this context.

"No. She also has a slight curvature of the spine. Only slight though. It looks like bad posture but she is very self-conscious about it so nothing low cut at the back. Low at the front is fine. She has a rather impressive front." 

"I see." The assistant glanced at the measurements again. "Indeed. Any particular colour Sir?"

"I thought perhaps a dark wine colour... or black." He remembered the receptionist's advice.

"Very well Sir. I'll see what we have. One moment please."

She came back with an armful of dresses but one really caught his eye as the top half - the bodice, she called it - was semi-transparent Lycra. It was only decent because of a matching pashmina shawl. The skirt was three layers of equally gossamer fabric and long and full. It was just the colour he'd envisaged - deep port wine red. Realizing that he had made his choice, the assistant put that dress to one side and handed the rest to another girl to return to the rails. 

In the next half hour she selected, and he approved, a black bra with gold embroidery that would show through the dress to great effect, matching panties, thong backed at his insistence, moiré hold-up stockings, black patent pumps with medium high heels and a matching clutch bag. 

Relieved at the ease with which he'd got a whole ensemble, he handed over his credit card and signed on the line.

Back at the Sanctuary, there was a hitch. Patricia was adamant nobody was going near her bikini line. Andrew had half expected this. He wrote her a note and one of the staff took it through to her. 

"Patricia, You promised. Love, Andrew."

It did the trick. He left the clothes with the receptionist and told her he would be back at 6pm. Then he went home to call Elena.

* * * * *

"Did my little Iberian bunny sleep well?" Andrew asked.

"Good morning Darling. Yes, I slept well...but I missed you." Elena sounded sleepy.

"I missed you too, Honey Bunny."

"Poo! You were sleeping with my sister. I bet you didn't even notice I wasn't there until you had to make your own coffee." There wasn't a hint of jealousy in Elena's voice, which was a relief.

"I did miss you. Patricia has no technique. Besides, I only did it because I love you."

"And I love you. Did you make her very happy?" 

"I think so but you must ask her yourself, tonight. She's getting her Cinderella treatment right now. We had a little difficulty getting her to let them do her bikini line. I had to get all bossy."

"Was it very bad?"

"Honey, you wouldn't believe it. She looked like one of those 1940's dirty postcards. More Brazilian rainforest than Brazilian."

"Poor boy!" Her voice dripped amused sarcasm.

"Elena..." He hesitates.

"Yes?"

"Whatever else happens tonight... you mustn't let Patricia go back to the guest room. She'd cry herself to sleep and wake up with enough guilt to screw her up for life."

"I know. Relax, Darling. Nobody's sleeping in the guest room tonight." 

"Hmm." Andrew can only view the prospect with optimism. "Meanwhile, all set for the performance?"

"All set. You'll come backstage afterwards, yes? I've put your names on the list at stage door."

"Of course."

"Darling, I have to love you and leave you. Bettina wants me for something."

"Ok Honey. I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too." She blew him a kiss and hung up. 

Andrew sat back and smiled to himself. What a girl! 

* * * * *

A few minutes shy of 6PM, Andrew turned up at The Sanctuary togged out in his best suit. He'd found time to get his own haircut during the afternoon and felt he looked about as sharp as he could at his age.

The receptionist was a different girl, which made sense when he thought about it. He explained he was here to collect a customer called Patricia. This the receptionist knew about: She called another member of staff to fetch the client. Andrew offered his credit card to settle the bill while he waited, glancing at the bottom line and nearly fainting. Ouch! He just hoped it was gonna be worth it.

Patricia came through the twin doors into reception looking... radiant. Andrew swallowed and immediately forgot about the cost. She beamed at his reaction and twirled, letting the skirt flare. 

"Well?" She asked.

"Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!" He grinned and offered her his arm. "Thank you ladies. I, for one, appreciate the magic you have wrought." He felt his arm squeezed against Patricia's side in sort of a semi-hug and turned to kiss her cheek. No more than that: he didn't want to mess with her make-up.

As they strolled arm in arm through Covent Garden, to the Opera Terrace, for a pre-theatre dinner, Andrew marvelled at the change in Patricia's deportment. She moved with more confidence, seeming to walk with more swing in her hips. Her skirt - she loved his choice - swished against his leg, rustling gently. It was a mild evening and she let the pashmina slip down to her elbows, revealing for the first time just how sheer the bodice was. Andrew pulled up short to use a shop window as an impromptu mirror. Her bosom looked spectacular, the gold threads shimmering through the gossamer. 

"What are you looking at?" Patricia asked, seeing nothing in the shop window worth so much attention.

"You're breasts." He breathed. His voice was low and a little husky. 

"Oh!" Her body language changed immediately, she looked shy, about to blush.

"They're... If you'd looking like this yesterday, you could have given your virginity to any man."

"I couldn't have looked like this yesterday." She turned to face him, taking both his hands in hers. "Andrew, thank you for last night. I'm so glad it was you who..."

To hell with her make-up. He leant in to kiss her and was met halfway. He was surprised that she still had her lippy on when they separated. 

"Kiss proof lipstick." She explained. "I hoped I'd need it." She looked coyly from beneath immaculate lashes. Shyness suited her - in small doses.

Once they were seated at a suitably quiet table, with drinks ordered, Andrew wanted to know everything about her make over.

"Waxing is horrible...And you made them do that to me." She tried to look cross. "And down there..."

"Down where?" he played dumb. 

"You know where I mean." She blushed a little at the thought of it.

"But I want to hear you say it." He grinned at her discomposure.

"My pussy." She whispered, blushing yet more. "There! Are you satisfied now?"

"Hardly. Patricia, you are beautiful. Tonight men will see you and want you. They will kiss your hand and want to kiss your pussy. They will touch your arm and want to touch your breasts. They will see you dressed like this and want to see you undressed. Just allow yourself to be desired and men will desire you. You are beautiful. Say it."

"I am beautiful." She sounded uncertain.

"Say it and believe it."

"I am beautiful." This time she sounded more sincere.

"Better. Keep saying it to yourself and keep believing it. Now, what else did they do to you?" 

"There was the spray tan-"

"You already had a tan."

"Not all over." She blushed again.

"Interesting. Go on." He prompted.

"A sauna and a massage. That was very relaxing. Hair." She flounced the cascade of ringlets that had been flat and straight that morning. The hairdresser had been very sensitive to her concerns about her back. He'd layered her hair and lightly permed it so it completely de-emphasised her 'hump'.

"It looks terrific." Andrew felt another compliment was due.

"Nails." She held up her hands to show him her manicure. Shimmering nail polish matched her dress. "Toes too. Then Cleo did my eyebrows and make-up. Then you arrived." She finished, looking for all the world like a little girl who's just reeled off the memorized list of all her birthday presents in one breath. 

Throughout dinner, his gaze kept wandering to her breasts. She smiled to herself, strangely unembarrassed by his fixation. She actually wiggled them to get his attention. He glanced up. It was his turn to feel embarrassed.

"I love your sister but I've always been what we Brits call a tit-man and," He looked wistful, "the one thing Elena doesn't have is cleavage. She's going to turn green with envy when she sees you."

"Elena will never be jealous of me."

"Not you, your cleavage, because she knows what I like." He gestured to a waiter for their bill. "Shall we go?" He stood, and offered her a hand.

* * * * *

They took a black cab south of the river to the Young Vic. Patricia clung to his arm as they mingled among the familiar faces in the foyer. Andrew made introductions here and there but Patricia was more than a little shy. She smiled sweetly enough but she was very quiet and her shawl was clutched tightly about her. 

It didn't go unnoticed. At the first convenient moment he guided her out of the throng and into a suitably secluded corner to administer some direct therapy. When he'd finished kissing her, he pointed her in the direction of the ladies room to freshen up her lipstick. It wasn't entirely kiss proof. He didn't have long to wait and, as Patricia returned looking suitably unmolested, the bell signalled that it was time to take their seats. 

In the dark silence of the auditorium, her hand nestled in his. Watching Elena gyrate and leap about the stage he was reminded of all the interesting applications of grace and flexibility that had become such a feature of their private lives. She really was exceptionally sexy - even clothed. His erotic daydreaming was interrupted by warm breath against his ear.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Patricia whispered.

Andrew turned to whisper back "Yes, but I'm biased."

Dance is a physical language. Right now, ricocheting between to male dancers, Elena's movements said to Andrew, somewhere beyond the footlights, "Fuck me!" and every possible synonym. Andrew was rigid, a common reaction to Elena's performances. Her work almost always turned him on. On an impulse, he guided Patricia's hand to his thigh, letting her feel the hot hard bulge of his excitement. He leant within whispering range again without taking his eyes off the dance. 

"Like I said - biased."

"Patricia left her hand where he'd put it, feeling the monster throb as they watched her sister fall into Bettina's arms and the two girls sink into a slow adagio death scene. 

The performance ended, the cast took their bows to rapturous applause, the house lights came up and Andrew and Patricia headed out of the theatre.

"This is not for me, is it?" Patricia had stopped them, turned to face Andrew and had her hand on his only slightly softening erection. She looked sad, as if realizing that here too she could not hope to compete with Elena.

"It's for both of you." He held both her shoulders and looked serious. "Tonight I have the difficult job of pleasing both of the Albuquerque sisters. Do you think for one instant that I won't enjoy trying?"

"But you love her." There were the first traces of tears in the corners of her eyes but she hadn't let go of his penis, which was a good sign.

"So do you. We both love her and she loves both of us."

"And...I love you." Patricia struggled to say it. She meant it, or thought she did.

"Patricia, You're a very sweet girl but yesterday you were still a virgin. Circumstances being what they are, I'm not surprised your emotions are playing merry hell with you. You're attracted to me: this I knew some time back. I'm attracted to you: this you know because the penis never lies." That made her realize where her hand was. It fell to her side. "Desire and attraction are reasons enough but they're not the same as love. Now dry your eyes and lets go dangle you in front of some more men. Maybe one of them will make you a better offer for tonight." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. She managed to smile back. 

As they reached the stage door, she stopped him again. "Andrew."

"Hmm?"

"I-I don't want any better offers for tonight." She was blushing as she peered up at him through her lashes, looking vulnerable in a way contrived to make any man want to take advantage. 

It occurred to Andrew that Patricia was a very quick learner. "Good. Let's go and see your sister."

* * * * *

"Honey Bunny! You were terrific." Andrew pushed through the press of assorted theatricals dragging Patricia in his wake. He swept Elena into a one armed embrace and kissed her firmly. "Allow me to introduce Miss Patricia Albuquerque, your sister." He relaxed his grip on Elena's waist and drew Patricia forward. 

Elena's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes widened, she glanced at Andrew then back at Patricia, then her vocal cords caught up. She squealed delightedly and bounced forward to hug her sister.

"What a change! I leave you alone for a couple of days and... this!" She stepped back and guided Patricia into a self-conscious twirl. "Sis, you look beautiful. Take off the pashmina. Let me see this dress properly." Elena drew the shawl from Patricia's unprotesting grip. "Oh my! You walked around London in this?"

"He made me." Patricia nodded towards Andrew. "I'd better have the shawl back. People stare."

"I'll bet they do, Sis. Let them. I couldn't wear that, even with a Wonderbra."

"I told you she'd be envious." Andrew interjected.

"I'm not envious." Elena chided him. "I'm in awe of my beautiful sister. Here, hold this." She thrust the shawl into Andrew's hands. "Patricia, come and meet the company." Elena took her sister's hand and bounced off with her in tow.

"Bettina! Bettina, this is my sister, Patricia. Patricia, Bettina choreographed the show as well as dancing. Didn't she do a simply marvellous job?"

"Hello." Patricia smiled a greeting. "It was a wonderful show. Congratulations."

"Thank you. You live in Cascais, yes? Are you staying in London long?" Bettina had heard quite a bit about Elena's sister, being Elena's closest friend as well as dance partner.

"Lisbon. The rest of the family lives in Cascais. How long I'm staying depends on the BBC."

"Sis has applied for a job with the World Service." Elena filled in.

"Really? Well, fingers crossed..." She held up two fingers, crossed. "Sorry Darlings. I really must love you and leave you. My husband's in this crowd somewhere." And pausing only to air kiss the sisters, she was gone.

Elena urged Patricia through the throng, accepting congratulations from various people that she introduced Patricia to before using her sister as an excuse to not get into long conversations. Eventually, they found the two male members of the company, chatting with Andrew.

"Boys! Where have you been? I've been searching high and low."

In unison, two very well toned, and very 'pretty' men turned to face Patricia.

"We were just getting a rave revue off The Shrink." One opined.

"Boys! Boys!" Andrew laughed "I've told you before. That shower was running cold." Then he looked at Patricia. "You're my friend, Patricia, make them stop picking on me."

"Picking on you?" Patricia looked amused but puzzled.

"One cold shower and for the rest of eternity I'm 'The Shrink'. It's so unfair." He made a show of looking put upon. 

Patricia looked blank. This was way over her head. Elena rattled off a few seconds in Portuguese and Patricia burst out laughing.

"Et tu Patricia." Andrew looked hurt. "Boys, meet Elena's sister. Patricia, these two hideously deformed parodies of the masculine form are Carl and Steven." He pointed first left then right. 

Carl reached for Patricia's hand, which she let him take, raise to his lips and gently kiss. "Enchanted." He bowed fractionally and stepped back. Steven was less formal, air kissing both her cheeks while clasping both her hands in his. 

Patricia could smell the sweat on them. It was somehow, from her new perspective, quite arousing. 

She recalled hearing about them from Elena. She recalled being disgusted to hear they were a couple. Her Catholic background had imbued her with strong views on homosexuals. She recalled the great lengths Elena had gone to, to explain that they were really very sweet guys. She recalled how their conspicuously tight tights had held her attention so much on stage while Andrew's cock pulsed under her fingers. She blushed.




Psychology 1 - Virginity 0



"Elena's told me all about you. Are you really getting married this summer?" Elena asked.

"Has she?" said Steven, in a slightly falsetto voice.

"Yes." Said Carl. "Gay marriages only became legal in the UK this year."

"Don't listen to them, Patricia." Said Andrew, drawing Elena to him with a half turn so he could hug her from behind and nuzzle her neck. "They only fake being gay so they can spend all day pawing my girlfriend without getting thumped."

"Actually," answered Steven. "We're only using Elena to get to Andrew. He's far too sensitive to be straight. He's just in denial about his own sexuality." He winked at Patricia. She recognised an opportunity to contribute to the humour of the situation.

"Well..." She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "He did pick out this dress for me tonight. Aren't gay men supposed to know a lot about women's clothes?" she looked innocently inquisitive.

"I am not gay!" expounded Andrew. "Tell them, Honey Bunny. Tell them I like girls, not boys."

Elena twisted the knife. She took his hands from where they rested on her stomach and, holding one in each of hers, moved them to her hips. "Snake hips." She said then moved his hands up to her breasts. "No tits. Darling, you've always said you liked my boyish figure." She kept his hands on her bosom. He deserved some reward for being the roast.

"Andrew. You choose this dress?" Carl was studying Patricia's outfit. 

"The whole outfit. Yes." 

"Shoes too?" Carl followed his train of thought.

"Yes..." Andrew answered, hesitantly. Knowing already he was damning himself.

"You have surprisingly good taste - for a straight man." Carl passed judgement.

"Thank you Carl. Thank you for acknowledging that I'm straight."

"That's not what he said, Darling." Elena laughed. "Enough, boys. Andrew's straight. "

"Thanks Honey." Andrew kissed her ear, still holding her in a hand bra. She twisted in his arms to kiss him properly.

"I'm gonna grab a shower and change. Then we can go home and explore your feminine side's lesbian tendencies." She glued her mouth to his again until the boys stopped jeering.

Andrew and Patricia mingled for a few minutes before meeting Bettina again, this time with her husband. Introductions out of the way, they made small talk until Elena found them all and made polite but urgent noises about going home. After apologies for leaving the first night party so early and kisses and handshakes all round, Andrew found himself pleasantly sandwiched between the sisters, in the back of another black cab.

* * * * *

Andrew just enjoyed the ride while girl-talk happened across him in Portuguese. Patricia was clearly the subject of an interrogation as she was blushing a lot and had difficulty meeting her sister's gaze. Elena reached across to hold her sister's hand and, by her soft tone and earnest expression, Andrew surmised she was telling Patricia personally what Andrew had already relayed about Elena's feelings and/or sleeping arrangements. 

Andrew paid the cabbie while the girls went on ahead. By the time he made it inside, one was already in the bathroom. It turned out to be Patricia, which gave him his first, and perhaps last, opportunity of the evening to be alone with his girlfriend. She leapt for his arms, wrapping her legs around him.

"How's she holding up?" He whispered.

"She's doing fine. You've worked a little miracle with her. Thank you my Darling man. Thank you for everything." She smothered him with punctuation kisses.

"It was my pleasure."

"I'm sure it was." She stuck out her tongue. He tried to kiss it.

"You know it's going to get a whole lot weirder in a few minutes?"

"Not weird, just plane kinky. I know you want us both tonight. Patricia told me how you made her touch you while you watched me dance." They kissed some more until Elena spotted Patricia hovering in the doorway. "There she is! Come and join us. Come on!" She beckoned her sister to them, disentangled her legs and let go of Andrew to embrace Patricia, kissing her full on the mouth, but without her tongue. Next, Elena urged her sister into Andrew's arms, so that he could keep her attention elsewhere while Elena, never taking her eyes off them, stripped naked in double-time.

Patricia had seen her sister naked before: Frequently when they were little girls and occasionally around this flat, usually in proximity to the bathroom or while she was changing to go out. This time was different. It was a difference Patricia became acutely conscious of when she found herself in the embrace of a naked girl. She tensed up. She looked suddenly terrified.

Andrew put his arms around Patricia's waist from behind so he could face Elena and whisper to her sister. "Patricia." He used the calm, quiet tones of his professional voice. "Relax." He felt her sag a fraction against him. He let his bulging crotch press against the small of her back, just like last night. "Will you let Elena undress you?"

"I... I..." She tried to hide her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved as sobs wracked her. Elena looked at Andrew in concern. Andrew just barely shook his head and smiled reassuringly at her. He hugged the distraught girl more firmly, reaching up to her wrists to draw her hands down. She let him. 

"Patricia. You can feel me. Can't you?" He waited for her to nod. "You know I want to make love to you: have wanted to since you offered yourself to me this morning. Do you remember offering yourself?" Again he waited. "Do you remember?" A nod. He continued. "And do you want me to make love to you?" Again she nodded, wet eyes screwed shut, unable to look at Elena. "Then say it, Patricia. Tell us what you want. Say the words." 

"I... want you... want you to make love... to me." She stammered.

"Thank you. Will you let Elena undress you - for me?"

"Y-yes."

At Andrew's nod, Elena knelt to take off Patricia's shoes. Patricia lifted first one foot then the other as she felt her sister's hands on her ankles. Standing, Elena took Patricia's hands and led her into the middle of the room. Andrew sat down and loosened his tie while he watched.

Patricia let her sister unzip the back of the dress and slip the light fabric off her shoulders. She stood impassive as it was drawn down to her waist and pushed gently past the flare of her hips to pool about her feet. She allowed herself to be manoeuvred out of the puddle of fabric and turned to face Andrew. He smiled at her reassuringly and started on his own shirt buttons.

Elena hugged her sister's back, pressing her cheek against Patricia's shoulder blade and whispered. "I love you, sister." In Portuguese. Then she unclipped the girl's bra letting it fall away from Patricia's full firm bosom and drop to the floor. She was envious of those breasts because she knew Andrew's bias. She'd watched how many male eyes had flicked - repeatedly - in their direction this evening. On an impulse, she cupped them from behind, whispering in Portuguese. "See how excited he is now? Men! They love to see girls touch each other. Kiss me, Sister. Kiss me like you kiss him." And she nuzzled Patricia's ear.

Lost somewhere between the path of righteousness and the road to perdition, Patricia was grateful for any directions that meant she didn't have to decide. She turned as she was bidden and kissed Elena. This time Elena did use a bit of tongue. She also ground her tiny tits against Patricia's perfect bosom, succeeding in rubbing their nipples across each other. Both girls could feel their bodies reacting. Both pairs of nipples woke up. Elena's tiny breasts were now crowned with puffy areolae so swollen they looked like miniature breasts all by themselves. Patricia's smaller nips could have cut glass.

As he watched his two lovers - He liked that idea. Two lovers. - As he watched his two lovers snogging, Andrew threw off his shirt and unfastened his trousers. Christ! But he was hard. He didn't even dare to blink.

Elena kept kissing until Patricia was kissing her back just as hard, then she pulled free and dropped to her knees, smoothing her hands down Patricia's back and onto her buttocks. Looking up, past the twin hills of her sister's breasts, she caught her eye and winked at her then leant close and gently kissed the front of the embroidered thong.

Andrew's cock leapt. His trousers were around his ankles now and he struggled to kick them off. His boxer shorts were like colonel Gaddafi's tent as he watched Elena prolong the striptease by slowly rolling down first one stocking then the other. Patricia's body looked great with its newly acquired all over tan and those legs looked very smooth. He knew he was going to enjoy finding out just how smooth, very shortly. The scene was only improved by Elena's tight bottom - always a stimulating sight - her dark little anus on show as always. She'd allowed him to fuck it a few times: Elena didn't much like anal sex but it was an occasional treat for him and she did like to please her man.

Not tonight though. He tore his eyes and thoughts away from Elena's ass and watched as she drew the pretty thong down over her sister's thighs, revealing the newly trimmed pussy to his gaze. There was still a full triangle of pubes but they were trimmed short and - yes - they stopped just above her clit. From the sofa, he could just make out the gleam of moisture on pink bits. He stood up. Now it was time to be the man.

Swept, literally, off her feet, Patricia put her arms around his neck and her mouth opened against his. She did not let release his neck or his mouth as he deposited her on the bed and clambered on top of her. Her legs opened wide to make room for him as the weight of his body settled upon hers. 

Elena stretched out on the bed, next to them, one knee cocked and her fingers idly teasing he own pussy. Amused to see Andrew struggling to find the hole with his bobbing cock, Elena reached between him and Patricia, gently gripped his erection and steered it in. No foreplay - She'd seen at close quarters just how wet her sister was, when she peeled off that thong. Patricia had been almost dripping. Elena remembered the first time she's had her pussy waxed - she'd been that wet for days and couldn't keep her hands off it. Her fingers fluttered over her clitoris as she watched Patricia's hips start to buck under Andrew's. The two people she loved most in all the world - How could it be wrong? Sharing someone she loved with someone she loved. 

Andrew felt the sap rising. How close was Patricia? Very close, he hoped. It was getting difficult to hold on longer. He pounded into her, cutting loose with a long low moan as his balls tightened and he sprayed her insides. It tipped Patricia over the edge, her second ever orgasm coursed through her. She cried out loud and long, slumping back down on the pillows as the ecstatic sensations ebbed and Andrew, panting hard from his own exertions, slipped out of her and rolled over onto the bed, almost dislodging Elena.

Elena kissed him then sprawled across his glistening chest to reach Patricia and kiss her too. Patricia hugged her, or at least that bit of her she could reach without moving, and they both started to cry. Crying happy, this time. As he caught his breath, no easy thing with a girl draped across his chest, Andrew smiled to himself: Patricia couldn't possibly feel guilty about any of this now. 'Cept maybe the 'sin' aspect, he amended. They'd have to keep her away from priests for a while. Not a problem - just hide all her clothes and keep her on her back as much as possible. He was up for it if she was.

"Want to see the fastest way to get a guy hard again?" Elena asked, nuzzling Patricia's ear.

"Mmm." Patricia nodded.

Elena sprang to her feet with the agility of her profession, twirled through 540 degrees with one foot planted between Patricia and Andrew then, with her back to him, stood astride his torso and lowered her bottom towards his face. She rocked her hips a few times, grinding her crotch against his mouth, then leant horizontal and took his flaccid, sticky penis between her lips. Patricia watched, shocked as her sister licked and sucked life back into Andrew's cock. It wasn't lost on her that the slickness on it was from her. Her own sister was licking her secretions off it. She glanced across to Andrew. 

He was preoccupied with the view. Elena was too much shorter than him for him to be able to lick her at the same time but he always enjoyed seeing her presented like this and there were always his hands. Right now his fingers were peeling open her pussy like the sticky sweet calyx of a ripe fig. Elena's bikini zone was, and as far as he was concerned, always had been completely hairless. He wouldn't have it any other way. The view of her lovely holes was slightly different tonight: Normally she did the splits for him and her pussy opened about halfway all by itself. He caught Patricia's eye and winked then pulled Elena's hips back against his face, smothering himself with her musky, moist pussy. His cock sprang from her mouth, hard as ever and ready for action. Elena, showing off in front of her sister, pushed her bottom up until her legs were straight again and did a handstand on Andrew's pelvis, arching her back until she looked like a giant question mark. It wasn't a stable position and she fell sideways, landing, against all odds, on her feet beside the bed. 

Laughing, she sprung back onto Andrew, straddling him and, with deft fingers, guiding his cock into her. She sank onto it with a sigh and leaned back so that Patricia could see the slick, soft lips stretched around the base of Andrew's penis. 

Patricia watched, unblinking, as Elena's hips gyrated, rocking backward and forward, her vagina gleaming like the polished pink seashells they used to get at the seaside as children. She wanted to reach out and touch it but didn't dare. Instead she clasped Andrew's hand as they both watched Elena. 

Elena closed her eyes and ground her hips. The throbbing flesh buried in her pussy was the best pole for dancing around. She rode it hard, feeling her already close climax racing upon her. She could still taste Patricia's juices on her tongue. God! How sexy was that? She'd had a brief fling with another girl, another dancer, when she first came to London so it wasn't that unfamiliar but... tasting her own sister's pussy on her boyfriend's cock. Kinky. Sexy. She'd been so turned on watching them fuck... she started to orgasm, crashing down onto Andrew's cock harder and faster, screaming as wave upon wave of heat and lust washed through her body. As she came down, Elena felt Andrew, still rock hard inside her. He always lasted well, second time around. She relaxed, catching her breath and gently rocking on his penis. She finally opened her eyes. They twinkled.

Patricia's mouth hung open. She'd heard them at it through the walls but never realized just what all the noise was about. It had been amazing to see such complete abandon. Did she look - sound - anything like that when he fucked her? God! She hoped so. 

As Patricia watched, Elena started to pick up the pace again, leaning back on one hand and flicking at her clitoris with the other. Faster and faster she posted on Andrew's hard-on, rubbing furiously at her clitoris, helping herself to a second orgasm. As Andrew's hips tensed, thrusting upward, his come drenching her cervix, Elena let herself go, wailing in ecstatic release before collapsing, all passion spent, on top of him. 

Their laboured breathing was the only sound as Patricia let go of Andrew's hand and rolled closer to fling her arms around them both. It had been an incredible 24 hours.