kiss my bottom, one on each side,
making indeed a voluptuous experience for me.

"When a little recovered from the excitement of the foregoing tableaux,
Phoebe made each of the girls take the head of my member in their
mouths and suck it a little, whilst their hands fondled the bag of
precious stones below, and when I was sufficiently worked up for
another bout, she sat on the edge of the bed, standing Patty quite
naked on a footstool between her knees, with her buttocks presented to
me, said:

"Now, sir, I know you won't be satisfied till you have her, so put your
randy affair in behind, along the parting of her bottom, and fuck as if
you were really in her little cunt. Nip your thighs well together,
Patty; it won't hurt you, and be as nice as you can about it, then you
will feel and enjoy the pleasure."

Following her directions, I pushed along the crack straight under her
bum, and felt Phoebe's hand grasp the head of my member each time it
was pushed home; Patty, by her mother's directions, working her bottom
to meet each thrust, and add to the illusion. My emission all went into
the palm of Phoebe's hand, she rubbing it all up under the girl's
little cunt. This was the end of that day's fun, and Phoebe assured me
we might go a little further another time, and that there was no fear
of the girls telling tales, as they were too much afraid of what their
little arses would suffer if they did.

Nothing of moment happened for a short time after this, till going one
day unexpectedly to stables, I heard Patty's voice talking to her
brother, who was our groom. The window was open and one corner being
shaded by the foliage of a Virginia creeper, I could both have a good
peep and hear everything.

"Well, you do look after your brother, Pat: only I wish you had brought
something stronger than the housekeeper's mild ale," he was saying.

"She says beer, this hot weather, is bad for everybody, especially
young people, it makes their blood hot, so they get into mischief. What
does she mean, George?"

"Well, girls are something like Master Percy's little mare there: do
you see how she is twitching her tail--it isn't the flies, there's none
in the stable--and I expect you feel something like that, don't you,
Pat, now and then?"

She blushed up to her eyes, but said, innocently enough: "Tell me what
you mean, George, why does she frisk her tail so?"

"She wants the horse, and I expect you do, too, this warm weather."