When my father brought home his new wife from his unannounced visit to his neighbor's keep, I was both surprised and pleased. Surprised that he had married again for he had a stable of willing lasses to warm his bed and pleased because the girl was comely and much closer to my age than to his. I know it's wrong, but that is how I thought about her.

She was named Clytemnestra after the queen of Greek myth but was called, thank the gods, Kitty, and she was a tall, slim girl of perhaps eighteen years and very pretty in fact very, very pretty. I never did get her to tell me her age, or much else for that matter, except for instructions on ways to please her and for a maiden, she was quite demanding and rather imaginative. She took a great deal of pleasing.

My porcine and enfeebled father, who was nearing seventy years at the time and not likely to achieve that goal, staged a feast of welcome for this fourth bride. He fell asleep at the table, a cup of wine in his trembling hand, and his guards had to haul his corpulent body to his bed. I took it upon myself, as the last remaining son at hand, to escort the lovely, and I was sure virginal, bride. She smiled at me shyly and held my arm to her lithe body as we mounted the stairs. I was surprised her breasts were so firm and so firmly corseted.

"I fear," she whispered, "that your dear father will do me little harm tonight."

"Nor little good," I whispered, enjoying the view of her fine mounds, which actually rubbed against each other in her tight corset and thus produced a deep valley begging for exploration. I bent and kissed high on both breasts and then nuzzled her throat. She purred.

Father's men had undressed him down to his frilly shirt and he lay on his back snoring and looking like a beached whale, his wrinkled privates hidden by his fat belly. The girl and I stood beside the high bed, looked at him and then at each other. "Perhaps," she sighed, "you will have to be his substitute. Can you do that? Do his duties?"

She smiled and licked her lips as her hand came to fondle my bulging groin.

"I can but try," I whispered back as I set to unlacing her bodice.

"He would not allow me to bring any of my maids with me," she said as she wiggled under my eager hands.

"Such a pity," I told her as I bent to kiss the tiny nipples of her warm, plump breasts again, each one, when she was down to shift and stays. "There is a closet over there where you may wash and do what you need do," I suggested.

She went up on her toes and kissed my cheek and pulled free of my hands. When she emerged she had shed her waist-cinching corset and wore only her thin undergarment. She was barefoot.

She stood beside the bed, glanced at her new husband whose fat belly rose and fell with his breathing and then somehow shrugged the wide-set straps from her shoulders and let her white gown flutter to the floor, pausing briefly at her jutting nipples and womanly hips.

My heart stopped and my mouth fell open I am sure.

She crawled up onto the bed giving me a fine view of her rounded buttocks and tight-lipped cunny, a bulging mouth in a furry nest waiting to be kissed, to be licked and sucked.

With my heart restarted and racing, I disrobed quickly, freed my aching member from my tight codpiece and slipped under the covers beside her, rigid and all but panting, my woman pleaser already dripping.

Although I had just turned seventeen, I was well practiced with girls having enjoyed the charms of the household maids for five years or so. Hardly a day passed, that one or another of the young females didn't lead me aside and spread her charms for my attention.