Penelope, Mistress of the Manor
Copyright© 2013 by Lubrican
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 10 - The aged Earl of Haversham was in need of a wife, and an heir. So, he bartered a marriage to young Penelope, and brought her to Farnsworth Manor as the new mistress there. The only problem was that Penelope liked her former life just fine. She didn't want to wander around a dusty old mansion, while her belly swelled up until she waddled like a duck. At least not alone. But there were a number of young, nubile servant girls about the place. So she hatched a plan. She wouldn't BE alone.
It is probably good that I watched as Sally claimed her brother that day. That is because if I hadn't, I might have accidentally seen Jack claim his sister. I cannot tell you why one was acceptable to me, and to the other I would object. It was just the way I felt.
I mentioned that Jenny was not there when Louis went to "visit his sister." That is because she was told she could have some time off for a little family time with Jack.
As I said before, I didn't see what happened, but the story was told in later years.
When she arrived, Jack was just finishing up moving hay from the barn to the stables. It being summer, the horses were put out to pasture as much as possible, but they were quite valuable, so they were brought in every evening and stabled. So when she arrived, and called his name, he was wet with sweat and the dirt of his work.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Sally and the mistress are entertaining Louis," she said, matter-of-factly. "Penny said I could come visit you while they do that."
"And what, exactly, are they doing?" he asked, with a smile.
"I think you know," said Jenny. "I brought some meat and cheese from the kitchen. And apples."
"Good," he said. "I'm famished." He looked askance at his arms, where his elbow and wrist creases were black with caked dirt. "Let me clean up first."
He removed his shirt, and hung it on a nail to dry. Clad only in pants and boots, he headed out of the stable administration area.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To the stream, of course," he said. "Want to come?"
"I don't need a bath," she said, looking down at the hay on the floor.
"Suit yourself," he said, and off he went at a lope.
She followed, of course. Her curiosity was too strong. That ... or something else that had lately blossomed in her.
She sat, demurely on the bank while he frolicked naked in the cool water. Her eyes never left him, drinking in his features - all his features - with eyes as hungry as he had said his stomach was. He waded to the edge, some ten feet from where she sat in thick grass.
"Sure you don't want to come in and cool off?" he asked, with a grin.
"I suspect the opposite would happen," she said, calmly. Her eyes dropped to his organ, which was rigidly curving upwards, as it was wont to do.
"This?" he laughed, cupping his cock and balls. "I'm sure you could cool it off nicely."
"I was speaking of the fire inside me," she said. "Were I to frolic with you, I would want to do more, and after last time I fear I might vanish in a puff of smoke and ash."
"You liked it that much?" he asked, his face serious now.
"I loved it, Jack. It's all I think about." She shifted, and frowned. "Are we terrible, Jack?"
He came out of the water and sat sideways, by her side. She had to turn her head to look at him, leaning back on her own hands.
"I don't know," he sighed. "The mistress says it's normal."
"The Mistress would say anything was normal," she said. "I love her, but she is very, very wicked."
"You love her?"
"Not like I love you," she replied. "I'm not sure I can describe what she makes me feel. When I'm with her I want to do everything she suggests. I have kissed her, Jack! And Sally too!"
"So have I," he said, easily.
"You're a man," she scoffed. "Men are supposed to kiss women. But are women supposed to kiss other women?"
"It makes my head hurt to think about things like that. All I can tell you is that I find it all exciting. I never thought my life would be so full of amazing happy times. I never thought I'd be able to show you how I felt about you." He stopped. She was clearly troubled by all this, and his profession of love for her might only make things worse.
"How long have you felt that way?" she asked, clearly curious.
"Had you asked me a fortnight ago, I'd have denied it completely," he said, being candid. "But I have had much time to reflect on what has happened, and I recognize in recent events, things I pined to do years ago. Those pinings were forced into dark corners in my mind, but I have thought you were beautiful since before you came to the manor."
She shifted again. "Your words make me wiggle with wicked thoughts," she said. "How can that be? You are my brother!"
He lay down and propped his head on his hand. "Penny says that love comes in many shapes and sizes. I warrant this is true, because the love she has shown me was something I'd have thought impossible. We did not get off on a good foot when we first met, and yet, she paid that no mind, looking deeper in me and finding something she did not wish to resist."
"She said that?" Jenny gawked.
"Something very nearly," he said. "The point is that, according to her, we cannot choose who we fall in love with. It just happens. We can resist the pull. We are taught to resist the pull. Her question is: Why? Why cannot two people love each other, despite one is noble and one is common, or despite that one is brother and one is sister? Why cannot an older woman love a young man, or the opposite? She feels these rules are arbitrary and foolish, and diminish both the world, and the citizens of it."
Jenny sighed. "It all sounds so simple. But I quail inside, whenever I think of you now."
"I would never hurt you," he said.
"I know that," she said. "That's not what I quail about. When I see you mate with Her Ladyship, I want to tear at her hair with my hands. I want to whip her and send her to bed without any supper! I feel you are mine! And yet, I cannot have you."
"Why not?" he asked.
She looked at his penis then. It was soft now, having lost its steel while they talked. Somehow that made her feel better, but she couldn't understand it.
"If I let you, even once, I would be your slave. When you kissed me ... there..." She turned her eyes away for a moment but then dragged them back to his by force of will. "When you put your mouth and tongue down there, I wanted your cock in me. I wanted to be pinned to the bed like you pin her to the bed. I wanted to feel the heat that Sally loves so much when a man gives her his seed. And I know that if I let you do that, even one time, that I would never close my legs to you again. If you snapped your fingers, I would lie down and hold my arms out to you."
"I am honored," he said, softly. "But what of it? Would that be such a terrible life?"
"Even if I was married, Jack!" she yelled. "I would choose you over my own husband!"
"Calm down," he said, smiling. The drama of her confession was sweet, but he didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. What woman would choose him over all other men? He almost laughed.
"I can't calm down," she moaned. "All I think of is your mouth, making me feel like I was flying. All I want to taste is your skin, your lips, and the nectar in the sack that hangs beneath your beautiful, beautiful penis!"
"You may do that all you like, then," he said. "We just won't go the entire distance."
"Do you promise?" she asked, leaning toward him. "Because I won't stop you, Jack. I can't stop you. It will be upon your shoulders to manage my lust. Can you do that?"
"I can," he pronounced, bravely.
Had I been there, of course, I would have counseled the young man as to how foolish it was to make promises such as that. To promise control, in matters sexual, is folly. Other than anger (perhaps, ) sex is the most powerful force in nature, and easily capable of wresting control from the strongest of men.
But he believed it. And so did she. And with that promise, she felt compelled to kiss him. She rolled to her side and ended up lying beside his nude body in the soft grass. Their kisses were sweet and gentle, at first, until the heat she had earlier referenced built up in both of them. Her hand wandered, to encounter a penis fully restored to capability. She stroked it until he worked the buttons of her dress loose, baring her breasts. He suckled them like a baby, trying mightily to get milk from them as she sighed and writhed in the grass.
It was as if her dress fell off of its own accord. Naked now, she relished in the feel of her skin on his. He knew of that button of joy now, and it was natural for his fingers to seek it, and rub. She went wild then, and he could not resist repeating what had brought her to such heights. Soon his face was buried between widely spaced thighs, and her fingers were entwined in his hair, pulling him more tightly against her sex.
She had no pillow this time, and in her efforts to control the volume, her cries came out as hair-raising sounds of agony. Any torture master from the Crusades would have been proud to wrench those sounds from a victim. Afraid she was dying, Jack stopped and lifted his head.
"Don't stop!" she gasped. "If you stop I shall surely die!"
It was then he remembered Her Ladyship's counsel ... and he bared his teeth, and closed them gently over the thing that had somehow grown from her skin. Now it was much more than a mere bump. Now it was a bud, a quarter of an inch long, and as big around as her nostril. With it clamped between his teeth, he used the tip of his tongue to flutter against the end.
Only because he knew what to expect, was he able to hold her down and keep his oral grip as she thrashed.
And when she fell limp, he let her go, and only licked her from the bottom of her split to the top, several times, just to enjoy her taste.
He got up on all fours only to look at her face, and make sure she was all right. She was panting, and her eyes were half open. He felt his penis touch her, and looked down, between his arms. The curve of his prick was such that the tip had caught in the pussy lips that were now flowered open, rather than tightly closed, as when he started.
His conscious mind noted what had happened, and how perfect it looked for his prick to kiss those lips like that. But there was another part of his mind, which he was unaware of, and it was that part of his brain that sent signals to his hips, causing him to lean forward, digging the tip of his prod deeper into that gash in her defenses. The heat that suddenly surrounded the tip caused natural urges to take command. Something resisted further entry, and his bent penis was not up to the challenge of pushing past that resistance. The natural thing to do was for him to grasp his prick and straighten it, somewhat, producing a shorter spike, only two inches long, which was more than capable of tearing the hymen that had sought to bar him entry.
And, as soon as that last barrier was gone, and his penis had wiggled its way a few inches further, his hand was no longer needed. He removed it. His hips lurched.
She jerked and cried out, piteously as that tiny piece of thin skin was torn, but her hips heaved as he leaned into her.
And Jenny was filled with her very first penis.
One might think she would have tried to resist. She confessed to me later that she felt the whole thing, and knew exactly what was happening as it did so. She said she couldn't wait to feel him fully inside her, which might be why, as his penis crawled as deeply as possible, she threw her hips up to ensure she got every inch of his length into her belly.
There is, in some women, a patch of rough, thick skin, somewhat oval shaped, along the top of the vaginal sheath. Mistress Penelope described it to me. She had one herself. She even offered to let me feel it for myself. I declined, of course. Turning a blind eye to her debauchery was one thing. Engaging in it myself was another. But my point is that she explained this patch of rough skin is extremely sensitive, and if tickled just so, produces a climax in a woman almost immediately.
Jenny had such a patch of skin too. And the shape of Jack's cock, curving upwards as it did, was perfectly formed to make the tip of his cock scrape that sensitive, oval patch as he moved it in and out. The mistress told me that was one reason why she let him take her so often over the years. She never failed to have a good time when that curved cock was in her.
Jenny had rather a delightful experience, as well.
But she said that the kind of climax this rough spot produces is quite different than when the little man in her boat is chewed upon. That kind of climax supersedes all, or so she claims. The one with Jack's penis rubbing her rough spot produces a sweet, cramping kind of tension in her muscles, that actually causes her to produce something very like the spend Jack puts in her when they fuck. When she told me of this (we had been drinking wine) she blushed and said, "I make such a mess, Wadsworth!"