Because of my morning's session with the bailiff's wife, and because of my excitation, I had not yet come. But seeing my sister's sensual delight, I became even more excited and stepped up the rhythm of my movements. But suddenly I felt something warm in Berthe's cunt. I withdrew, and a dark red mass of sperm mixed with the blood caused by the piercing of the maidenhead and the menstruation flowed out.
We were both frightened. My member was covered with blood, which stuck to my balls and hair.
But imagine our fright when we heard a voice behind us saying: "My, my my! What a pleasant conversation the young ones are having." Kate was standing beside us.
She had forgotten something and had been sent back to fetch it. So absorbed had we been in what we were doing that we had not heard her climb the stairs, but apparently she'd been watching us for some time from the hallway, and had then opened the door quietly and tiptoed into the room during Berthe's voluptuous orgasm.
Her roguish face reflected the excited state into which the sight and sound of our play had worked her. Berthe and I were so taken aback that for half a minute we did not even think to arrange our disorderly clothes. Kate had ample time to observe Berthe's serious bleeding, as well as the decline and fall of my tool, which my fright had caused to unstiffen.
"When you do such things, at least have the foresight to shut the door," and she went over and shot the bolt.
"Berthe, your mother forgot to tell you not to do it during your periods. But," she laughed, "I know how it is, that's just when you most want to.
"Now put a dry cloth between your legs and stay in bed like a good girl. But be sure not to put your shirt in the dirty clothes' basket, Roger, unless you've also started having periods."
And looking, I saw that my shirt was spotted with blood. Kate poured some water into a hand basin and approached me.
"Luckily it comes out easily," she said. "Get up, Roger, and let me wash you."
I stood up in front of her so she could wash my shirt in the basin. She lifted my shirt-tail high, exposing me again to the view of the two girls.
She washed my shirt, poking fun at me as she did so, then said seriously:
"Come here now," and washed the blood off me with a sponge.
At this contact, my tool slowly began to rear its sleepy head. "Oh, you wicked little prick, going into Berthe's cunt like that!" and she gave it a few saucy slaps with the palm of her hand. Suddenly she grabbed me, forced me to my knees, and spanked me as hard as she could.
I started to howl bloody murder, while Berthe almost split her sides laughing.
My fanny was stinging, but my state of excitement was even greater than before.
When I was younger, then or thereabouts, my mother had often hoisted me between her thighs after I'd done something or other I shouldn't have, lowered my trousers and spanked the devil out of me. But I remember that after the first sting of pain had subsided, a feeling of sensual pleasure had lingered with me the rest of the day.
When Kate noticed that my prick was once again respectable, she broke out laughing. "Goodness gracious, what a big handle!" She took it in her hand, squeezed it, then uncovered it. That was just too much. I grabbed Kate's breasts; she pretended to resist. So I slipped my hand beneath her skirt. She wasn't wearing panties. I seized her apricot. She tried to draw away, but I held her by her love hair, encircled her buttocks with my left arm, dropped to my knees, and drove the thumb of my right hand into her warm box, maneuvering it back and forth.
Kate lost possession of herself and fell back onto the bed. I lifted her dress and laid bare her cunt. Her hair was red, not as thick as I would have imagined from what Berthe had told me, but fairly long and moist with sweat.
Her skin was as white as milk, and soft as silk. Her white thighs were well rounded, and she was wearing pretty black stockings in which a pair of firm round calves were enclosed.
I threw myself upon her, forced my prick between her thighs until it eased gently into her cunt. But I drew it out again almost immediately. I was in an extremely poor position, with nothing to brace my feet against.
But by now Kate was hot and bothered. She jumped up, pushed me into a chair near the bed, and threw herself on top of me. Before I had time to say Jack Robinson, my member was imprisoned in her cunt.
I felt her long hair against my belly. She held my shoulders and was rocking back and forth. At each stroke her large lips touched my balls. She took off her muslin jumper, and told me to play with her boobies, because "it feels so good," she said.
Her nipples were naturally more developed than Berthe's, and harder though much smaller than those of the bailiff's wife. Her breasts were as white as her thighs and belly, and were tipped by two red points, surrounded by a yellow crown on which there were a few tiny hairs.
Kate was very excited, and was approaching the climax. So violent were her movements that my prick had twice slipped out of her cunt, and she had hurt me in putting it back in, though she seemed to be getting her share of pleasure from the operation.
I was lagging behind her, whereas she, in pleasure-filled tones, was exulting: "Now… now… no… it's coming… ah! ah! God A'mighty! How good your prick feels!" And with that she came, and there was an increased flow of her love juice. At the tail end of her climax, the sensitive chambermaid bit my shoulder.
Feeling her boiling ejaculation, I realized that my own climax was not far off.
Kate had quickly regained control of herself.
"Roger, your tail's becoming hotter and hotter; you're on the point of discharging." And she stood up abruptly, seized my sperm-covered member in her right hand and began to stroke it violently, saying: "Otherwise I might become pregnant."
I'd also risen to my feet. Kate pulled me toward her with her right arm; I tongued her nipples. I must have spread my legs. Standing there naked as the day I was born in front of the two attentive girls, my belly was seized by a fit of convulsions. Suddenly my sperm went flying.
Berthe watched the ejaculation intently, and gazed curiously at the white liquid which had fallen on to the bed.
While I was discharging, Kate had tickled my buttocks and encouraged me with: "There now, my Roger, how nicely you're coming, that's it, that's it!"
My orgasm was beyond all description.
I fell back onto the chair. Kate was acting as if nothing had happened. She was arranging everything; she wiped my prick with her handkerchief, rebuttoned her blouse, picked up her basket and, in her customary gay voice said: "God be praised that things turned out as they did. Now let's all be good children. You, Berthe, remain quiet and get some rest. And you, Roger, return to your room."
She left, and I went down to my room, after having got dressed again and kissed Berthe good-bye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE DAY'S EVENTS HAD WORN ME to a frazzle. My one desire was to rest. When I awoke the next morning, I was lying on my back, a position which usually gives me an erection. Shortly thereafter I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Wanting to play a joke on the bailiff's wife, I lifted my nightshirt, threw the blankets off me, and pretended to be asleep.