18 comments/ 15078 views/ 14 favorites Parasol Ch. 01 By: MabelCinnamon Chapter 1 Theresa I'm tired. Yes tired. I know people say they're tired all the time. But this time I really mean it. I work hard and have never really had an hour of peace since they moved in. Who are they? They are the spawn of Satan himself. They masquerade as toddlers, but I know the truth. They are demons! Insidious, surreptitious and downright sneaky cretins that have crawled their way out of the clutches of hell simply to bring misery into my life. They are referred to as Shannon and Silas. My neighbours' "children". About a couple months ago they all moved into the house next to me. I was a bit put off as the previous neighbours were childless and very quiet. However since the Storms moved in (I lie not, that was their name) life and quiet became vengeful enemies. I never thought of children as evil, however, these twins could sway the minds of parliament. I was always a bit of a hermit in the small community. I kept to myself for one single reason: people suck. Yes I have never come into contact with one person who has been able to impress me with their characteristic prowess and personable abilities. Yes, that may strike you as odd but I was an only child. My parents died when I was 15 and I lived in an orphanage for the next three years. During that time being the small, quiet black girl earned me the label of "freak" and I was ostracized due to my reluctance to ignore commonsense and suppress individuality. I wasn't a carefree hippie, who believed that "we are all special", I just believed that I didn't want to be a mindless drone in an army of invalids. As such, on the year of my eighteenth birthday, I left the orphanage with a dream to be comfortable. Not rich. Not famous. Not even happy. Just comfortable. It took me ten years to accomplish my goals. And as soon as I reached that level of comfort, they moved in. It wasn't like the Storms were a bad bunch. However their children like most (all) people I know, sucked. They were loud and nosy. They were always in my yard, interrupting my gardening session. They always had questions and never took "I don't know" as an answer. It was like they got out of bed with a mission to exhaust every adult they came into contact with. So here I was on my knees, in my garden trying to find an inner peace that can only be met when the Storm children either die or grow up. It was the vacation time, so school was not coming to save the day. Shannon, or Princess Shannon as she demanded I call her, came and sat next to me. Note: these children do not process glares for their social meaning of "go away". So that when Princess Shannon sat next to me I did not feel the need to waste a stare. She sat quietly for a few moments. Looking at me, then at the garden, then at me again. She huffed. Then she shifted so that she was on her knees too. She poked the soil. She huffed again. Finally, "What are you doing, Ms. Burke?" she asked, with genuine concern in her voice. I looked at her to see if she was sincere. It was obvious what I was doing. But there she was, with an expectant look on her face, bright blue eyes repeating the question to me. "I'm gardening, Shannon," I said, trying my very best not to sound too annoyed. "I can see that," she announced, "I meant, what are you gardening?" This time I actually did not mind her question. It seemed she was actually interested and not simply asking to fill her quota with the devil. So I stopped and looked at her. Then I turned to the garden and pointed to the blocks as I told her the names. "Chrysanthemum, daffodils, hyacinth, and tulips," I said proudly. My garden was not big but it made me happy. I looked at Shannon. She looked over the garden as though making her own assessment. Then after much consideration she looked up at me and broke into a smile so big my mouth hurt. "Could we grow roses?" She asked. No, the word "we" was not lost on me. I looked at her and ran through a host of replies, but all included yelling and big girl words. So I calmly said "No." She looked at me, her smile shrinking gradually, and then becoming a deep frown. The bad girl on my shoulder whooped in victory. However the rest of me did not share in the celebrations. Something about those blue eyes and their dull resignation made me feel... something. "Why do you want to plant roses, Shannon?" I asked. I knew I was opening a door that was sealed shut, but it felt like an "out of body" experience. I saw myself engaging her in conversation, but I could not stop it. She beamed immediately. "My uncle is coming to visit. He loves roses. White roses," she said, eyeing my garden for her prospective occupants. I looked at her for a while. Did she say uncle? Another Storm to disrupt my life. God help me. She looked up at me and I realised that I missed a valuable part of the conversation. "What?" I asked, trying to think of a way to get her away from me. "I said, he's coming to spend the whole month with us. He's a teacher in the city. He says he wants peace and quiet," I looked at her as though she had grown a second head. Why on earth would a sane person who knew (and is related) to these demons want to come here for peace and quiet? Shannon continued to poke my garden. She got her fingers dirty and then proceeded to "clean them" on her dress. I bet her mother would just love that. I returned to my gardening, if I don't look at her she'll eventually disappear. "His name is Malcolm," she said, thwarting my plans. "Who is Malcolm?" I asked, really concerned for my sanity if I sit with this little girl any longer. "My uncle. Malcolm Storm. He's daddy's little brother," she replied. She was now inspecting my tools. As she picked up my shears I heard her mother bellow. Thank God! "I'll be right back, Ms. Burke," she said on her sprint home. "Take all the time you need," I grumbled back. Finally getting the peace I longed for I continued my gardening until the sun got unbearable. I collected my tools and returned them to their rightful places in my garage. I'm an editor, and I enjoy working from home. It limits my contact with the countless morons of the world. So I had a bath, releasing the tension Princess Shannon caused, then I dressed and headed to my office. I picked up my first manuscript of the day. "Hi, Ms. Burke!" A voice hollered at me. I was frazzled instantly even though I knew that voice like I knew my cycle. "Hello, Silas," I said calmly looking out my office window on the ground floor. He was peeking his head over the windowsill; no doubt his toes barely touched the ground. He was a tiny boy. "What you doing?" he asked. I was starting to think these children had a theme. "I'm reading, Silas," I replied, using my best calm impression. These children were like pythons, if you are calm and collected they usually left you alone. However Silas seemed to be on a special mission. He suddenly dropped from my window. I heard his little feet stomp to my front porch. Sadly and expectantly I heard a little knock on the front door. I ignored it. Again in my attempt to rid myself of him. As I noted before, these children did not heed hints. He knocked again, only stopping when I grudgingly opened the front door. I looked at him, irritation seeping out of my freshly cleaned pores. He looked up at me, straining at my 5"9 inches. He broke out into a smile that screamed innocent verdict. I was not deterred. "Silas, I'm busy," I said, my most professional voice. He looked at me and smiled some more. Why haven't these children lost teeth yet? Another piece of evidence that they were unnatural. "But Ms. Burke, I really need to talk to you," he said, childlike desperation easing into his voice. I looked up and stared into his empty yard. How is it that his parents were never around? I moved to the side and allowed the miscreant into my home. He walked in looking around, no doubt casing the joint. He passed a fleeting palm on some of my ornaments, but seeing as I was not thoroughly fond of household ceramics, his interests were quite limited. I cleared my throat, when I noticed the little punk was ignoring me. He turned around and a small blush crept onto his cheeks. "What is it, Silas?" I was beyond annoyed and stood like a principal I used to know. He looked up at me and took a deep breath. I should have realised that this was a bad sign. "My uncle is coming next week to visit. I really wanted to surprise him with a present, but if Mommy finds out she'll get mad. I was wondering if you could keep something here for me, please." He gushed out the words like he read my mind. "No." It was all I said to his little speech. He looked as if his dog died. "But Ms. B," he called me that exasperating nickname, "Uncle Malcolm really likes snakes and last weekend I got him one from the pet store. I saved all my money for 6 months to buy him one." I looked at him, astonished, not by his declaration, but by his audacity. I was so taken aback that I stood, mouth agape, for a moment. Then I finally pulled together all the diplomacy I had in me and said "GET OUT!" Now this was not the best way to handle the situation I know, but I just could not believe these children. Like a good little boy, he bowed his head and slowly trudged out of my home, not before he said to me, "Please don't tell Mommy." He then ran across to his home. I was NEVER having children. I closed my door. I decided that I would not tell the woman anything. I considered it payback for having the little monsters. I actually played with the idea of her waking up in the morning to a disturbing bed companion. I went back to my manuscript. As I sat there, reading a rather intense author's work as he butchered the English language, I thought back to my day. It seemed that this "Uncle Malcolm" was an event to be had at the Storm residence. It simply solidified my notion of him being just as disruptive as the rest of the clan. Parasol Ch. 1 Charles stared off into the dark of the pool house. The water reflected the dim lights from the outside, as well as the moon, casting eerie shadows along the walls. Mist rose off the water and cascaded over the sides of the pool. Softly, the fogged, glass door to the pool house opened and a shadow crept in. Under shadow, Charles watched the shadow, unseen. Charles's breathing was slow and steady, he tried not to make a sound. They couldn't make a sound. Charles was the chief butler for Lord Wiggindorf, English Earl for Her Majesty. Amanda, the Earl's daughter, was an adventurous girl Charles had known her since she was 15. He'd always loved her, but recently, those thoughts became to bring about different ideas in him. They filled him to a maddening quickness, making it difficult to concentrate. When he thought about her, his heart pounded loudly in his ears. His being concentrated on her. On her nineteenth birthday, Amanda had a game with her friends through the great, hedge maze out front of the manor house. It was a cold day, but the sky was blue and sunny. There was much laughter and giggling. During the game, she'd ran out maze momentarily and told Charles she'd lost her parasol somewhere in the maze. "Would you be so kind as to fetch it for me, Charles?" Charles looked at her indignantly, though inside his pulse quickened as her spoke directly to him. "Me, ma'mm?" "Oh, yes, Charles, who else could fetch it so quickly?" The laughter from her friends called out from the maze, and she stood there so prettily. Amanda had worn a white, party dress, petticoat and a racing gown from horseriding earlier. Her white skin was flushed, and her long, brown hair tousled from her exertions. "Of course, ma'mm" And into the maze he went. He knew the maze quite thoroughly, and searched it always to the left. He ran into many young people, racing to and fro. As they would pass him, they'd make faces or roll their eyes. Always ignoring them, he narrowmindedly continued his search. After searching the entire maze, he was dumbfounded. He'd not managed to find her parasol and he'd be forced to go back empty-handed. "She'll not be pleased at all," he thought. The rightmost-corner of the maze held a shack the gardener used to keep his tools in. Passing it, Charles noticed something bright sticking out from under its doorway. Walking to the closed door, Charles reached under the sill and pulled. A white handkerchief. The initials, A.W., were embroidered in red in the corner. Amanda's hankerchief. Charles opened the door to the shack. The shack held trowels, spades, shovels hanging on both walls. In the middle, facing him, was an opened parasol. Opened as if to keep something out. A white riding skirt was seen under the parasol. Charles closed the door, and walked over to the parasol. Using the kerchief, Charles pushed aside the parasol, to see Amanda's bright, flushed face staring at him. "It appears you have found my parasol, Sir," she said, smiling coyly, pleasingly. "Yes," Charles spoke absently, staring at her chest heaving with breath. He closed their proximity slightly. Amanda stared at Charles, watching him breathe hard but steadily in his butler's uniform. "But you appear to have exerted yourself, Sir." Charles was even closer now, standing next to. "Oh, but Sir, what would my father say if..." Charles shushed her, softly, drawing a finger to her lips. He stared away and they listened a moment. The laughter of a group of young ones got louder. The group gathered out in front of the shack and started calling for Amanda. "Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!" they'd yell. Amanda started to get upset. "Oh, but they've found us, Charles!" Her eyes were wide suddenly with fear, her tone was low and pleading. Charles looked down at her, her bright blue eyes shining up at him with tears in them starting to well-up. "They havn't found you yet." Charles sounding as much a dare as a statement. Charles reached his arms under hers and pulled her close. The fabric of her petticoats was crushed under the sheer butler's uniform. He pulled her into him. She smelled him, her face pressed into his chest. His hand reached up behind her neck, and Charles pulled her into a kiss. The shouts from outside became more insistent. The door to the little shack rattled as someone tried to open it. Charles spun Amanda around quickly, and pressed her back against the door. Their kisses became more insistent, the danger of what they were doing intoxicating. Neither of them had ever done anything like this before, but their passions were too strong. The door rattled against Amanda's back. She didn't care, and devoted herself totally to Charles. "It's locked!" a voice from outside spoke, beaten. The laughter slowly died away as Amanda's friends left to find her. Charles and Amanda were left to each other. Momentarily pulling back from her, Charles produced her hankerchief. "I found this as well." "Oh, then you deserve a reward, Sir." Amanda spoke to him. And pushing him back slightly, she began to lift her riding skirts. "Oh, no, Amanda, we couldn't!" Charles complained. "Don't be silly, Charles. I don't want to sully my gown!" With that, Amanda knelt before Charles. "Amanda, get up! This is too much, we'll be caught" But soon, his mind was changed, as a small, gloved hand began massaging the front of his trousers. "Amanda, you must stop this..." he gulped, only half-heartedly stammering it out. "Oh?" Amanda said, unbuttoning the front of the Butler's trousers. "Is that so? A strong man like you should be able to stop me, Charles. Why don't you stop me?" Charles didn't. Amanda's gloved hand deftly reached into his trousers, like a small thief stealing from a cookie jar. Her fingers wrapped around his hardness. "Ummm, "she said, unabashedly, as Charles stood, transfixed on what he saw. Amanda ran her hand along the length of him several times, making a fist. Her glove an entirely different color white from his skin, which was deep red. She leaned over, and for the first time, touched his cock. She kissed it with her lips, slowly, deliberately. Lightly, taking her time. Charles let out a groan, as much enjoying watching her as the feelings within him. His knees gave a little, weak with what they were doing. Amanda smiled, and ran her tongue just under the tip, massaging it. "My God, Amanda! We shouldn't....Unh..." And with that, Amanda began to take him in her mouth. Her lips stretched tightly around his cock, first around the tip, and then gradually taking the shaft too. She hugged it as each inch went deeper into her mouth. His entire shaft slowly slid past each taste bud on her tongue, it rippling as he was taken in. When Amanda had taken all she could into her mouth, she relaxed her throat. She was determined to get all of this man into her. Slowly, patiently, the rest slowly slid down her throat, until she was gently nestled into him. Her other hand came up, and slowly played with his balls, lightly batting them with her fingers. Charles breathing became very hard all of a sudden. "Amanda, I cannot stop. You must, I will soon explode!" But she would not stop, stirring him with her hand. Amanda stayed on him, unable to breath, her lungs begging for air, as she suckled on him. She wanted him, within her. "Unh! Agggh, Amanda!" And with that, a first burst of cum went directly down Amanda's throat, coating her on the inside. Each explosion thereafter brought a "My God!" from Charles as he was deep down his Lord's daughter's throat. He shoved and shoved against her mouth, firing himself into her. wishing he had more so he could give her that as well. He pulled back, and Amanda frantically drew air in. The air slid in easily. Charles was quickly on his knees, asking if she was ok. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. No, I'm better than fine, Charles. It's perfect" A little while later, Amanda left the shack, her face more flushed than any amount of horseback riding had ever produced. She ran, exultantly, a white wisp among the green hedges all around. Later, Charles appeared from the maze, a white parasol and matching handkerchief in hand. Amanda could be seen, pleasantly talking with her fatheras if nothing had happened. "I've found your parasol, Miss" Charles uttered, trying to pretend nothing had occured. "Oh, and what was the delay, Charles? I could've found it myself faster than that" her eyes wickedly defying him. "Sorry, Miss. Someone must've found it and hidden it in the shed." Lord Wiggindorf awoke at this moment, "In the shed, you say?" Charles turned to him, "Yes, Lord" "Extraordinary!" and turned back to his port and cigar, and Lord Dusendorf. Amanda's cheeks were ruddy with redness, her forehead sheened and glowing. "Here Miss, I found this as well," Charles handed over the handkerchief as well. Wordless, Amanda accepted the handkerchief, wiping her forehead and neck. Charles stared at her, her father sitting right next to her. Amanda's gloved hands moved the hankerchief sensually across her neck, dabbing lower. She reached the neckline of her dress, and pushed the hankerchief under it slightly. Charles's face didn't betray him, but his manhood stirred as her watched her. "Sir, if you have no more need for me, I've errands." The Lord stirred long enough for a "Yes, yes", and waveoff . As Charles passed Amanda, she pressed the hankerchief into his hand. Not breaking stride, he went into the house. A note, buried into the hankerchief and doubtlessly written earlier said, "Pool... Tonight" across it. He threw the note casually into the kitchen fire and adjusted his trousers again. His mind burned the rest of the day. Now he waited in the pool house, watching her shadow from across the room, as she slowly undressed in the eerie shadows of the pool hall. Parasol Ch. 2 Chapter 2: Dark Waters Trish pushed open the fogged, glass door of the pool house with her thumbs; her arms filled with folded, bath towels. After restocking the pool larder, she sat on one of the many chaise lounges orbiting the pool. First, her eyes darted to the pool door to see if anyone was coming. Satisfied, Trish stole a moment and took off her shoes. She groaned audibly as she rubbed the soreness out of her tired feet. She'd been standing all evening, serving her Lord, the Earl of Wiggindorf, and his guest, the Honorable Lord Dusendorf. During dinner, Dusendorf's hands had been all over her, her bottom still sore from his continual pinching. As she'd served the roast this evening, she'd felt his eyes on her. Each time she leant over to refill his wine cup, she felt his breath through the thin material of her maid's chemise. It was always this way when the Earl had his 'Army compatriots' over as guests. Together, they'd served somewhere exotic, like India, though she'd never bothered to ask. Most of them had never appealed to her. None except for the Captain, Hennington. He was tall, with fair hair, and unlike the rest was mostly silent. He'd invited her back to his room and she'd accepted. She was curious and, up till then, had only kissed a few of the servant boys. She had gone that evening, to the Captain's room. She had found not only the Captain waiting for her but also Mary, the maid from Upstairs. Mary was sitting on the bed, her blouse strings undone and her large, full breasts were exposed. The Captain had invited Trish in. She was polite, but quickly retreated, despite Mary's pleadings with her to stay. She'd not known Mary very well at the time, but had come to know her better in the following months. Trish and Mary had found a small space in the attic they went to to talk. Of course, when they talked, it was often Trish interrogating Mary about what she'd done with the Captain. "Do you mean you don't know, Trish? How could you not know?" Mary'd chided her, smiling. Their bodies close to each other in the small space, only an oil lantern giving light. "Oh, I know, Mary," Trish said, at the time, so wanting to be older. "Just not exactly" "Do you want me to show you? Exactly?" Mary's grin so pretty. Mary's hand would slip gracefully into the ties of Trish's blouse. Her strong fingers wrapping around Trish's breasts, squeezing them lightly. Mary showed her the pleasures of a woman, and so Trish's knowledge grew. They're soft moans and quick, careful grasps hidden carefully in the small space of the attic. Thinking about Mary, Trish rubbed her legs together, causing the hosiery to grate nicely. Trish filled her maid's blouse and short skirt well. There were full curves in her hips, and her blouse ties concealed her ripe breasts poorly. She'd lived in Wiggindorf manor all of her 22 years of age, never knowing a land further than the stone fences still within view of the manor. She'd let her long, black hair free, for Mary, but on duty, she wore it tightly under her lacey cap. Trish often came to the pool house in the evening. It was soothing after hard days, to hear the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. Often, as tonight, the tall windows would shine the outside moonlight and stars onto the water's surface. The walls rippled and turned with the shadows. The entire pool was lined in bright, irregular Spanish tiles. The south wall of the pool house held a line of Corinthean columns, purely for decoration. The water would sometimes be clear enough to see the small tiles lining the bottom, or opaque enough to reflect the stars. The end Trish was sitting at was deep, but as you crossed the pool, it shallowed. At the north end, the bottom rounded up, becoming a beach, equally lined with tile. Trish heard a small splash in the water. It woke her from her reverie. Looking across the top of the dark waters, Trish felt it was speaking to her. "Back to work, I s'pose," Trish said absently to the dark waters, and started to put her shoes back on. Reaching over for them, Trish noticed a small, dark shape, leaning against one of the columns. Squinting, she couldn't make it out, so she, in bare feet, tiptoed over to it. The tiles in the floor seemed to suck at the heat her legs had built up. Arriving, she picked it up. "A shoe," she said to no one. It was dull brown, ordinary, though highly polished. Certainly, a servant's shoe, a man's shoe. The laces were undone. "Whoever wore this didn't get very far..." Trish said to no one. Looking behind the column, Trish noticed a man's shirt, pants, socks and cod, scattered about. A ladies expensive evening gown was also lying hidden, rumpled hideously. Trish stared, trying to make sense of the forgotten clotheing. If she hadn't known better, she'd swear someone had gone for a swim. But no one was in the pool. Experimentally, Trish slowly edged over to the lip of the pool and peered in. The water was dark, at first not giving up any secrets. Just the shadows and stars playing across it. Suddenly, a bright, beam of moonlight entered through the windows, just for a fraction of a moment. Just long enough for Trish to see into the waters. There, hovering as though suspended in time, were two lovers. A man and a woman. They were wrapped in each others arms, kissing and touching. Their skin shone like highly-polished ivory, glimmering in the seabeams. The man's dark eyes were open, looking at the woman, while her head was tilted back, eyes shut. Her hair was a giant mane about her, the tendrils of which reached to pull the man closer to her. Her breasts were large, with nice, puffy nipples tipping each. The couple appeared like something out of a painting. Or rather, like the Grecian statues that Lord Wiggindorf kept outside in the garden. Some thought the garden statues obscene, but Trish had always liked them. They'd always looked so beautiful to her, like what she saw now. Trish knew the woman, though she'd always seemed a girl before. Amanda Wiggindorf, The Earl of Wiggindorf's nineteen year old daughter. The man, undoubtedly the owner of the shoe, was Charles Bradfordshire, the head Butler for the manor. Charles had always appeared so stuffy, so full of pride and principle. But here they were, for an instant in front of her, before being swallowed by the darkness. Standing at the side of the pool, Trish stared transfixed. They reappeared in another gust of moonlight. They didn't even look like Charles and Amanda. They were like ghosts, and they moved her. Trish thought if she moved, or blinked, or even breathed, they would blink out of existence. ---------- At first, Amanda had started to rethink meeting in the pool house. It was dangerous, and if they were caught she knew Charles would be discharged. But now, lost in the water and Charles, she couldn't remember why she'd ever been worried. They'd both just come back from a breath, barely breaking the surface, then back down into the deep waters. Charles's strong arms pulled her to him, sending a 'woosh' of water swishing about them. His hands lightly caressed her back. Each touch sent chills throughout her body, the water somehow magnifying his touch. She felt much closer to him now than in the shed earlier today. As if they'd found their own world, a private world only they knew about. In any other place in the house, they would have to worry about being quiet. But here, in this blue, watery world, there was no sound. Only touching. And his taste, mixed with the water Charles spun her around and pulled her into him. She felt his cock, already hard, against her bottom. He began to kiss on her neck, and she tried to laugh against the waters. She felt his hand slowly moving across her stomach, then down between her legs. She parted them, and nestled further into his cock. His hand found her mound, and he started to rub against it with his palm. She shuddered slightly, the blue shadows playing across her eyes. The intensity built, and he slowly pushed a finger up inside of her. She wanted to spin around, to force him to the bottom so she could sit on his cock and ride him. Like she'd done before with her father's friend. But Charles's arms were too strong, and he held her fast against him. Her lungs started to insist on another breath, but she did not want to leave this place. Harder and harder, he rubbed his hand against her little button. The darkness getting deeper, richer. She felt all her mind going into the pleasure he was bringing her. Losing her mind in the pleasure, losing her want to breathe. He shoved a second finger in, filling her. She was on an edge now. Leaning over it, she felt her lungs burning for air. She would not leave this moment, she would remain teetering on this brink forever. Not leave the oh-so intense pleasure she was receiving. She would fall into the darkness, further and further. Spiraling, forever, down, down, into blackness. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, as the white-hot flare of orgasm overtook her. Her body shook against Charles's, again and again. His cock slightly pushed even more between her ass. His fingers dug deeply into her, and even as she shook, he would not stop rubbing her. Her mind awoke and she hungered for air. Her hands clawed for the surface. Charles gave a kick, and up to the surface they went. ---------- Charles watched, as Amanda gasped for air on the beach of the pool. He'd pulled her to it once he'd realized she couldn't support herself in the water anymore She was completely exhausted, but he craved her. As she rested, he knew he should be conscious of their being exposed. But, looking about the pool house, he knew they were safe. He couldn't even see the pillars at the other end, the glass door only a very faint light against one wall. They were safe. Amanda turned on her side, her body still half in the water. Charles saw her ass, and remembered nudging against it in the water. His cock grew again as he thought about how she'd felt against him. And how his Lord Wiggindorf would react if he'd caught them right now. Charles nestled up behind her, and his hard cock pushed between her thighs. Amanda turned her head back toward him. Her breath was still shallow from waiting to breathe for so long. She smiled. "Charles," Amanda whispered in the dark. He grunted an acknowledgement. "Fuck it into me," she said plainly, louder than before. Charles was surprised at the courseness of her language. Pulling her up on her knees, Charles forced her to lean over on the 'beach'. They're bodies were half-in/half-out of the water. He knelt behind her, she on all fours, her ass and his cock still underwater. He felt her hand reach back and grasp his cock. He'd liked the way she grabbed his cock; strong, like she wanted it. She lined him up with her slit, and pulled him into her. He went slowly, unsure if she were a virgin. Sliding up to the hilt, and finding no resistance, he knew he was not her first. But she was very tight. He shoved his cock into her, her breath escaping her as he shoved it in. Her pussy felt like a tight, silk glove on his cock. The water splashed out from between them, and rushed back in as he pulled back. Again, again, he shoved his cock into her, his passion for her increasing. Somehow, knowing he was not her first turned him on even more, and he fucked her hard. He knew they were making too much noise. He didn't care. All he knew was that she had asked him to fuck her. This little girl he used to scold for playing outside in her dresses. Punished her for the time she got honey on the kitchen towels. And now, she was his. Her bottom jiggling slightly as it was shoved against his stomach. Charles reached over and played with her puffy nipples as they dipped into the water. "Oh God, I love it!" Amanda exclaimed, Charles's hands pulling on her hips. Soon, Charles felt he would spend into her. "Charles," Amanda whispered in a moment of clarity, "You mustn't spend into me" In response, Charles reached around and played with her cilt again. Amanda moaned, and the moan echoed around the pool house walls. "Please Charles, unh, unh, you can't. Unh, unh" "You should've thought of that before you wrote the note, my love." Charles shoved, harder, faster into Amanda, his hand rubbing faster and faster on her clit. "Cum for me now, Amanda! For you will take me into you!" Charles ordered. "Unh...unh....Nooooooo" Amanda said, as she felt Charles thrust against her, and deliver his load inside of her. Even in the water, it burned her insides, burned her mind. She knew she should not let him do it inside of her. She came, pulling his cum in her, despite her knowing. She could not stop who she was, any more than he could stop. She felt it, filling her up, as the staccato thrusts pushed more and more of his cum inside her. Soon, they were spent, and lay on the beach, panting. ---------- For a moment, Trish wondered if they hadn't decided to die in each others arms. A lover's watery respite in a world that wouldn't let their love live. But, she saw first Amanda, then Charles come up for air, then go back down. She'd watch them come up the last time, and she saw Charles drag Amanda's limp form to the "beach". She'd watched, hidden next to the columns, as Charles took Amanda from behind against the 'beach' of the pool. Now, as they lay panting on the shore, Trish thought about what to do. She'd never seen a man and a woman together before. Mary'd once told Trish about Romeo and Juliet, and their forbidden love. Mary told Trish they were like Romeo and Juliet, in between kisses in the attic. Now, watching Amanda and Charles, she knew they would all only suffer for what they were doing. For their forbbiden love. "Because Isn't that how all forbidden loves have to end?" Trish wondered. Leaving them to their fate. Trish stood. Silently, she grabbed her shoes, padded to the glass door, and was gone.