The Orphan Of Silverwood Farm free porn video

THE ORPHAN OF SILVERWOOD FARM by dkb PROLOGUE Charles Wetherby was orphaned twice before reaching adulthood. The first time was a tragedy, the second a liberation. When he was six years old Charles' mother contracted a severe pneumonia and, having a weak constitution, succumbed rapidly. A letter telling of his wife's illness to Charles' father, who was fighting the Great War in France, was returned unread. Lieutenant Wetherby had died in a mortar attack. Charles was therefore sent away to live with a maternal great- granduncle, old Judge Ezekiel Scarsbrook. The Judge was a severe, reclusive old man. A lifelong bachelor, he was nonetheless pleased by the idea of having an heir to follow in his footsteps. He trusted no one except himself and was therefore determined to devote his retirement to schooling Charles personally, training his intellect and keeping him away from such distractions as toys, games or playmates. And so Charles spent his childhood in the old library, studying Latin, Greek, History and Law so that, when the time came, he could become a brilliant lawyer, just like Uncle Ezekiel. Although Meg, the old housekeeper, raised Charles with all the grandmotherly affection she could, his was a desperately lonely life. The only friends he had were the characters in the old romances he read in the library in his few hours of leisure, Arthur and Guinevere, Lancelot and Elaine, Tristan and Isolde. He thrilled to the strange and fantastic adventures they had and even more to the noble ideals of love that ruled them all. In the life Charles had had planned for him there was no love, only study, duty, justice. But it was not to be. At the age of 82 the Judge weakened and expired. And at the funeral Charles felt again just how lonely his life was. There were no mourners bar Meg and himself and if Charles were to die that very day only Meg would remember him. At the end of the ceremony, however, a black, open- topped sports car drove up to the church. A woman stepped out and walked over to the graveside to hear the end of the service. Although her black mourning dress made her look spinsterish, like Meg, Charles could tell from her smooth hands and unlined features that she was a much younger woman, certainly younger than anyone he was used to being around. And the bloom in her cheeks made Charles think that sorrow could not be frequent in her life. When the vicar had finished the strange woman came over to talk to Charles. "Good day," she said, "You must be Charles Wetherby. My deepest sympathy to you on your loss." "Thank you, Madam." "You know, until last week I had no idea you existed." Charles wasn't sure how to reply to this, so he said, "Until now I had no idea you existed." She laughed, warmly. "Oh, so sorry, I haven't introduced myself have I? I am Florence Beaufort. I was, I think, a second cousin to your dear mother. I read of Scarsbrook's death in The Times last week and I was astonished when it said that he was survived by an heir. How long since you were adopted?" "Ten years. I was six." "Oh, you poor darling. Where do you go to school, my child?" "I don't. Uncle Ezekiel schooled me himself." "Ooh, the wicked old misanthrope! I'll bet he kept you locked up in that gloomy old house of his every day, never letting you see anyone. Who did you play with, who did you learn friendship with?" "Well, Meg..." "Meg is a dear sweet old woman, but hardly an appropriate companion for a young man like you. I bet you think you're going back to that lonely old house and Meg's going to carry on looking after you, same as always." "Well, I..." "Well I won't have it. I'm sure Meg dotes on you, but she is an old woman and really she ought to have someone looking after her. What I propose is that you come back with me for the summer. In the autumn we will send you off to a college to study for the entrance examinations to whatever crusty old university you wish to go to, but meanwhile you will stay with me and my girls, in our humble but happy home, eat good food and sleep in a snug, warm bed at night and in return you will do some labouring for me on the farm. I have to say you don't look very strong to me, not much physical exercise I'll grant. Never mind. With enough good meat in him a growing lad like you can pile on the muscles. What do you say to that?" Charles felt faint with trepidation. He had never stayed away from his old house since he was adopted and the prospect of being pitched into a totally new environment with this assertive and forthright woman made him nervous. However he couldn't ignore this opportunity for escape into adventure. It was now or never. "Thank you very much indeed Mrs Beaufort. I...I would be very happy to accept your kind offer." "Excellent! But don't call me Mrs. Beaufort. Call me Aunt Florence. Now, do you have any personal possessions you wish to bring with you?" Charles frowned. "Not really. Except, perhaps 'Le Morte D'Arthur'." "A book! Is that all? Oh well, I'll arrange with Meg to have your clothes and things sent on to you. Meanwhile, I still have some of Mr Beaufort's old clothes. They might not be much too large. I don't know why I didn't throw them out after he passed on. Now they can be of some use. Would you like to come home with me immediately?" Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to still his shaking hands as he said, "Yes Aunt Florence." And so, at the age of sixteen, Charles Wetherby left his old life altogether in the passenger seat of a sleek and modern motor car, which Aunt Florence drove with a steely assertiveness out into the depths of the English countryside. CHAPTER ONE Aunt Florence drove in silence, keeping her whole attention for the road. So Charles leaned back in repose, enjoying the feeling of the spring sun on his face and the wind blowing through his hair. After a very long drive they drove through a sleepy little village and down a dirt track to a lovely old cottage, which faced open fields of sheep and backed onto some overgrown woodland. There was also a barn, a hen house and a stable further off. "Welcome," said Florence, "to Silverwood Farm." As they drove down the track they passed a slight figure in scruffy work-clothes walking nonchalantly down the side of the road. Florence called out, "Sam! How's the roan?" and Charles was astonished when the voice that came back was that of a girl. "She's getting better Ma'am. Taking her feed now." When Charles looked closely (out of the corner of his eye to avoid being noticed) he saw that Sam was barely his own age. She had a smooth, girlish complexion and the rough man's shirt she wore couldn't entirely hide her ripe bosom, but her short, tangled hair, the straw and mud on her breeches and her brusque, even insolent, manner made her seem utterly unfeminine. "Sam helps out in my gardens and looks after the horses," said Florence. "She lives for those mares. I think she likes them more than she does people." Florence parked the motor car in the barn and showed Charles into the house. Mr Beaufort had been a wealthy industrialist and his premature death had left Florence comfortably well off. "Silverwood Farm" therefore was not her livelihood, merely a hobby, a country retreat away from her previously cosmopolitan life. She kept some chickens, a couple of nanny goats and kitchen gardens, which supplied the vicar and other local notables with fresh vegetables and certain specialised shops in London with various exotic herbs. She could deal with her investments through proxies in the city and, apart from visits to her best loved friends, never had to leave the quiet of the farm. She showed Charles around the elegant front room and dining room, the cosy kitchen and finally a small, but well stocked library. "You'll see I have a lot of boring old herbals," said Florence, "But I'm sure you'll find some books to your taste." Charles hardly heard her as he marvelled at the variety of books. There were, he noticed, a very great deal of novels (something Uncle Ezekiel had firmly disapproved of) as well as, oh! a beautiful collection of Arthurian romances, Greek mythology and many more fabulous stories from far away places. "I'll bet you've never read the Arabian Nights, have you?" asked Florence, "Those Arabs got up to a lot more interesting things than Arthur and Guinevere ever did." Then Florence showed Charles the snug bedroom that he would be using and she called out, "Agnes!" When the maid came Florence directed her to run a bath for Charles and then went to change out of her funeral dress. Agnes was a comely young woman. Her severe maid's frock and pinny and thick black stockings did not hide her full, youthful curves and the chestnut curls under her cap framed an open, round face that was used to smiling. Charles barely knew what to do with himself, so new was everything to him, so Agnes took him by the hand and led him like a child to the bathroom. She started running a bath for him and then went to get some of the late master's clothes for Charles to change into later. When she came back she spoke. "Well young Charlie," she said, a sly smile on her lips, "Want me to undress you or do you think you can manage that yourself?" "Oh, um no. I'm fine. Thank you very much, er, Agnes. Thank you." "Well, leave your old clothes out and I'll pick them up for laundry later." She looked him up and down. "Hmmm. It'll be nice to have someone new about. Nancy'll like you. And even Edith might find something for you to do for her." Charles barely understood what she could be suggesting, but something in her tone made him feel an involuntary twitch of excitement. Agnes slunk out the door and just before she left she turned round, winked at Charles and slowly licked her lips. After Agnes had definitely gone Charles locked the door, undressed, sank into the warm bath and thought back on this extraordinary day. He was being swept along by something over which he had no control. Well, that wasn't different; he'd never been in control of his destiny. But before now he'd always known exactly what was to happen to him. It was all planned out. Now he had no idea what it would be like to live in this cottage, with these women. It suddenly occurred to him that, apart from himself, there were no men living there at all. He wondered where Aunt Florence's daughters were. They must be the Nancy and Edith Agnes had mentioned. On the drive down to the farm he had felt acutely conscious of Florence's presence next to him. Despite the cold wind blowing through the car he had felt sure he could smell wild flowers and honey coming from her body, that he could feel the warmth of her breath. And when Agnes had taken his hand he had felt her warm palm next to his. The way she had smiled and teased at him, the way she had taken control of him and led him seemed to promise something soft and warm, very different from the cold, lonely world he was used to. At these thoughts a strange feeling came to his privy member. It started to stir, inflate and stiffen and a warm feeling started to spread through his groin. He had noticed this before, usually in the mornings, but he'd never really thought about it. He always visited the bathroom when it happened and it went away, so he had guessed it was merely swollen with his water, which presumably accumulated there overnight. But that didn't explain why it felt so good. He knew nothing about his member except that it comprised, along with his hinder parts, what Uncle Ezekiel called "Adam's sewer", channels for expelling rottenness from the body. But he didn't feel any need to urinate now and in the bath his penis must be as clean as it could be, so he didn't worry. He just lay back and thought of Agnes and Florence while his rigid member bobbed back and forth in the water. When he had finished washing and then drying himself he put on the casual wear Agnes had left him. It was very baggy and sagged in all directions. When he went downstairs to the front room Florence barely stifled a giggle. "Oh, dear! At least you're decent, eh?" She had changed into a pretty, cream-coloured blouse and a long, full skirt and she had let down her dark hair, which she had tied up for the funeral. "Now, what can I get you to drink?" "Uh, tea would be nice." "Don't be silly, you need a proper drink after such a long day. Let me get you a sherry." The unfamiliar alcohol burned his throat, but he persisted out of politeness and pretty soon got used to taking little sips as a warm blaze grew up in his belly. And Aunt Florence talked to him (instead of lecturing, like he was used to from his uncle) warmly and with friendship, about her small farm; about her visits to London, the shows she had seen and parties she attended; and about her young daughters, friendly Nancy, never a harsh word to anyone, and clever Edith, who would go far. And in due course the girls themselves returned. Nancy was short and slender with an unruly brunette bob, Edith taller with blonde hair cut short into a severe crop. Edith gave Charles her hand to kiss and Nancy gave him a friendly hug. Then Agnes had dinner ready and they all ate together (including the maid, Charles was surprised to note). Edith and Nancy expressed polite condolences, but did not pry, immediately accepting Charles' presence as completely normal. The sherry, and now the wine with dinner, made Charles feel warm and happy, if a little fuddled, wonderfully content to sit quietly, listening to the women chatting cheerfully around him. After dinner they went through to the front room. Edith practised on the piano while Nancy and Agnes involved Charles in games of cards, giggling at his ignorance and, Charles was sure, cheating to make him win. Eventually Edith closed the piano and left for bed. Nancy ostentatiously yawned, Agnes giggled, and then the two of them left together, hand in hand. Then Charles was left alone with beautiful, magnificent, Aunt Florence. "Charles?" She looked at him thoughtfully. "You'll be living here with four women and I suppose you won't have had any experience of that before. Have you known any women except old Meg?" "N-no, not really." Occasionally Judge Scarsbrook had had fellow lawyers for dinner and some of these had brought wives with them, but Charles had not been permitted to attend those gatherings. "But still," Florence quizzed him, "you must know something about women. So tell me, what do women have that men don't?" "Well." His brain fogged. "You have, um, g-generative parts. And, er, ch-ch, I mean, b-b..." "Oh Charles, you are quite uneducated aren't you?" He protested. "No! I know law, constitutional history, natural philosophy..." "But you don't know anything important. For instance, take your generative part." She tweaked the bulge that showed in his trousers, despite his best efforts to conceal it. "What do you call it?" "My penis." "Yes, but what's it doing now?" "It's...it's hard. And, um, enlarged." "It's called an erection. Did you really not know that? And what do you do with it? I mean in its generative capacity." "I...I don't know." "Well, you place it with the generative parts of a woman and your seed fertilises her womb. And then, well, it takes nine months and it causes the woman a lot of difficulty, discomfort, even pain. And raising the child is terribly difficult. But despite all this people do it all the time. And do you know why? Do you know what God did to make people bring new life into the world with every generation?" "No." "Oh Charlie, he made it fun!" she cried and, grasping his head between her hands, she lay out on top of him and kissed him hard, pushing him back into the cushions, and an explosion burst in his groin and his thick, milky essence flowed like lava into his underpants and trousers. "Oh dear!" she giggled. "Here, don't move, wait right there!" She fetched a wet cloth from the kitchen, pulled his baggy trousers down and wiped him neatly. "Look," she said, stroking his member, "it's standing straight again, so full of life, your little cock." He giggled. "A bird!" "Yes, one that stands proud, puffs itself up and crows. Cock-a-doodle- doo!" Florence unbuttoned her blouse and unhitched her brassiere. "Here, see what I've got for you." She guided his hand to her smooth, rounded flesh. "My titties, feel them. See my nipples stand out? That feels good to me, just like your cock. Kiss them for me." Hypnotised he lay his head in her round bosom and felt her nipples on his tongue. She held him there, cradling his head in her arms. Then she sat him down in front of her. She pulled her skirts up, eased her drawers down and spread her legs apart. "What do you think of my pussy here?" "It's beautiful." "What does it make you want do?" "Kiss it?" "Oh, you marvellous boy! Yes, come here, kiss it, lick it, suck it." He approached reverentially, put his mouth to her pubis and did homage to it as at the woodland shrine of a wild goddess. Florence wrapped her legs around his head as he worked in her warm grotto and she started to sigh and gasp. In time she grunted loudly and Charles felt a massive shudder move through her body as she twitched under him. She unfolded her legs and pulled him up to rest against her heaving bosom. She kissed him long and deep. "Thank you Charles," she said, "That was lovely. You are a lovely young man." She lay him down on the sofa then walked to a drawer across the room and fetched back a small tin. From the tin she drew a small tube of thin rubber, closed at one end. "A condom means you can have the fun without having the baby," she explained. She eased the condom over Charles' straining member, straddled it and rode him firmly until they came again. Then Florence led Charles to his room, dressed him in one of Mr Beaufort's enormous nightshirts, put him to bed, kissed him on the forehead and wished him sweet dreams. CHAPTER 2 When Charles woke he could almost imagine the previous evening a dream. He dressed in more of Mr Beaufort's tent-like clothes and came down to a fried breakfast, courtesy of Agnes. Then Florence came to take a look at him and talk to him about the work she wanted him to do for her. "Basically I want you to help a little with absolutely everything. You will be a spare pair of hands to make all our lives slightly more comfortable and we will all be grateful to you. First there is the garden, hoeing, weeding, watering. Then there's looking after the chickens, cleaning the coop, and milking and feeding the goats. However, you will not have anything to do with the horses. That is Sam's special preserve. She does not like other people interfering and since she does a good job we leave her to it. And then there's the house. You will take your turn assisting Agnes in her work with the laundry, the cleaning and so on. When it comes to housework she will tell you what to do and you will follow her orders. That may sound strange but it is the way we do things here. Agnes is a treasure. She does the work of at least two or three ordinary servants and she deserves assistance. And when all that's finished I may," she smiled, "ask you to come and perform some personal services for me, in my bedroom, like last night. You won't mind that will you?" She smiled at Charles' blushes. "No, of course you won't. And finally, there's something else." She looked at the trousers that trailed on the floor behind Charles. "I'll want you to start this morning hoeing in the garden, but you really can't wear those. They'll drag in the mud. One of my tweed skirts will keep you warm enough, especially if you wear a pair of thick stockings to go with them. You won't mind wearing women's clothes will you, Charles?" "No, Aunt. Why should I?" "Good boy." And so Charles started working in the farm in a plaid skirt that came down to his calves, thick grey stockings, held up by garters, and a pair of solid work boots of Florence's that were of a size to fit him as well and were more suitable than the shoes he had worn to the funeral. The big shirt he wore was so long that it acted like a petticoat and made his skirt puff out a little. When he worked the way the skirt moved against his legs and the unfamiliar sensation of the stockings on his flesh excited him and made his penis stir slightly. He felt an unfamiliar joy enter his soul when he thought of living with Florence and the girls and his old life seemed a million miles away. Soon Nancy came to help. She had him leave off hoeing so she could show him how to do the weeding, teaching him to recognise which plants were supposed to be growing there and which weren't. He noticed that as she pointed out the different herbs Nancy constantly bumped against him. Several times she patted his arm affectionately and she moved her hips, making her skirt brush against him, apparently quite unselfconsciously. When kneeling down she stuck her bottom out and when standing up she stuck her chest out. It was all Charles could do to concentrate on his lessons without becoming distracted. And then Agnes came by. "I hope you're working hard, Charlie," she said. She kissed Nancy on the lips, stroked Charles on the cheek and then left again with a cheery wave and Charles felt breathless with excitement for the rest of the morning. In the afternoon Edith showed him round the chicken coop, and directed him in cleaning it out while the birds clucked and pecked around them. She was brief with him, wasting no time on anything save showing him what to do and leaving him to it. She had laughed when she'd seen him in his skirt that morning and now he could sense her giving him sideways glances while he worked and he felt obscurely ashamed, though he couldn't have easily said why. When she spotted Sam across the garden she left Charles to work on his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Edith telling Sam something and then they both turned to look at him and laughed. After dinner Nancy said, "Come with us Charlie. Come and play with Agnes and me in my room." It wasn't cards they played that evening. Charles followed the girls into Nancy's cosy bedroom. Nancy took a glance at Charles, then reached out a hand to Agnes' cheek and started kissing her delicately on the lips. She put her other hand to Agnes' full bosom and started caressing it through her pinafore. Then Agnes reached round to Nancy's bottom and pulled her in, moving her thigh between Nancy's legs. Nancy turned and said, "Come here Charlie. Join us." So Charles approached and they formed into a three-way hug. Agnes pulled his head to her chest and Nancy stuck her hand up his skirt and started stroking his stockinged thighs. After they had stripped off their clothes, and his, the girls had Charles stroke, lick and kiss every part of their bodies and he marvelled at the beauty of these two young goddesses. Nancy was slim and elfin, a wisp of a girl. Agnes was ripe and curvy, her flesh taut, but heavy. He was entranced by her titties. Both Florence and Nancy had slight bosoms, elegantly curved with sharp little nipples, but Agnes' breasts bounced and jostled with a life of their own and their broad, dark nipples were irresistible to his fingers and his lips. Nancy had sparse growth on her mound that barely covered her slit. Agnes' mound seemed thickly wooded by comparison, even more so than Florence's, and it felt hot and humid under Charles' tongue. Charles took turns licking and sucking between the girls' legs as he had done for Florence before. He worked out how to use his fingers as well and pretty soon both girls were sighing and moaning in pleasure. Then Agnes took his cock and started sucking it like a stick of barley sugar and Charles was amazed by the sensations he felt. The warm cavern of Agnes' mouth, the way her lips slid up and down and the way her tongue moved against his shaft felt quite different from Florence's pussy and his excitement was intense. Nancy joined in, kissing him on the belly and licking round the base of his penis, and this sent him over the edge. He tried to warn the girls when he felt himself about to spurt, but they kept right on until his orgasm came and his semen spilled out from between Agnes' lips. While Charles sat recovering he watched as Nancy and Agnes lay with each other. Nancy lay on top of Agnes and wriggled up and down her body, kissing her on the lips, the neck and on her breasts, and she used the fingers of one hand to push into Agnes' pussy while rubbing her own pussy against Agnes' thigh. Charles moved in to help out, kissing and caressing where he could, and Agnes shook wildly when she came. The love between these two women affected Charles deeply. When they looked at each other the eyes of each sparkled in the light of the other's regard. Charles felt profoundly honoured to be joining in with their games, but he knew he could never be more to either of them than they were to each other. When Agnes and Nancy had finished with each other Agnes fetched condoms, placed one over Charles' rigid member and then lay back with her legs spread wide apart. "Come on Charlie," she said, "fuck me!" Charles knew now what he was supposed to do, but somehow lying on top felt awkward to him. Even with Nancy urging him on he couldn't seem to work up a good rhythm. Agnes quickly lost patience, pitched Charles onto his back, squatted over him and bounced up and down on top of his pole. The sight of Agnes looming over him, her breasts swinging wildly, thrilled Charles to the depths of his soul. When he fucked Nancy they both lay on their sides and Charles inched his cock slowly into her. They wriggled and writhed against each other and Nancy moaned deeply. When all three of them were totally exhausted they lay in each other's arms, their sweaty bodies glistening in the gaslight, and then they put out the lights and fell asleep together. The day after that Florence drove up to London to settle Charles' legal affairs. With the help of a friend in Chancery she had herself declared Charles' guardian, with an allowance to support him. He would get his full inheritance when he was twenty-one, provided he graduated in law. Then she sorted out a pension for old Meg and brought back a small parcel of Charles' clothes. Charles quickly settled into his new routine. The work he did was hard, but varied. As well as labouring in the garden he worked under Agnes, cleaning the house and doing the laundry. Edith taught him to sew and had him help with the mending. His clothes weren't very suitable for physical labour, so he continued to borrow from Florence and Nancy and built up a small wardrobe of plain and sturdy skirts and blouses, which he wore as well as his old clothes. His hair grew long and wild and he wore a band to keep it out of his eyes. At first Charles had tired rapidly, but he got used to labouring and worked as hard as the others. A few days after Charles had started working at Silverwood Florence had declared that he was too weak and skinny and needed a dietary supplement to build him up. So, thereafter, every morning, he drank a specially prepared herbal mixture along with his milk and quite quickly Charles started to feel stronger and healthier, able to work harder and longer. He also put on weight, though mostly, it seemed, on his hips and buttocks, and a little on his chest. Also, three days after he started this regimen, the downy hairs scattered across his legs and belly all fell out in the bath and he was thereafter completely smooth except between his legs and on his head. But he felt no concern about this. He was too happy to worry about anything. Then there were the nights. Charles usually spent them with Nancy and Agnes. They delighted in each other's company. They spent hours playing together, sometimes just kissing and cuddling, sometimes trying to bring each other to the heights of pleasure in as many different ways as they could think of. One time Agnes astonished Charles by applying a thick grease to her anus and sliding her bottom onto his straining cock. It felt so tight he was afraid to move in case he hurt her, but she slid up and down and rubbed her pussy until her orgasm brought on his. Every three or four days Florence suggested to Charles that he might pay her an evening visit. She would have him lie flat out and she would sit astride his cock and then stretch out on top of him and squeeze him with her arms and legs, as if trying to squash him into her body. Or else she would have him lie on his belly with his face buried between her legs. On other nights Agnes would visit Florence's bed and occasionally Sam would stay overnight, but whether Florence played the same games with them as she did with him he didn't know. But despite all these delights Charles couldn't stop thinking about Edith as well, icy, disdainful Edith. When they worked together she was brisk and curt. He tried hard to please her, to do what she told him and never make mistakes, but, though she never exactly said anything to show it, he could tell she didn't really like him, which made him sad. Edith and Nancy sometimes went to parties and balls and such. Nancy usually dressed quite simply for these occasions. Her beauty shone through whatever she wore. But Edith was obsessed with decorating herself with fringes and pearls and beads and her party frocks needed frequent repair and adjustment. So when Agnes wasn't available for this Edith enlisted Charles' help for mending and adjusting and arranging and fitting her clothes. She also required a ladies' maid to help her dress when she was going out and again Charles occasionally performed these duties. The first time he helped dress her Charles was entranced by Edith's beauty. She seemed a vision in cream and blonde and silver and he felt faint in her presence. When she was ready she looked at him sitting on the floor in front of her and said, "I need to be warmed up." She pulled up her dress, opened her bloomers and pushed her pussy in his face. He reached up to her hips, but she said, "Don't touch me. Use your mouth." So he started to lick her and she ground her pelvis into his face, pushing him back onto the floor and squatting over him. With Edith sitting on him he felt he was suffocating and he put his hands up to ease her away slightly, but again she snapped at him, "Don't touch. What did I tell you, you stupid boy? Didn't you listen?" All he could do was lick and suck the best he could until she was satisfied and she stood up and rearranged herself "That was acceptable," she said. "You may go now." "Yes Edith. Thank you." Though he never felt comfortable with Edith, or with Sam when she was around, Charles loved Silverwood farm more than he could have thought possible. He was happier and more confident every day. A month after he arrived Florence could sit in the garden and watch Charles hoeing, his skirt swinging while he worked, and marvel at the change from the subdued, sober young man she'd first met to the carefree spirit he was now. Nancy and Agnes indulged him so, she thought. They treated him like a child really, always running around and playing silly games with him. But it was what he needed. He'd surely missed out on fun when he'd lived with the Judge. And he was devoted to the girls, Nancy particularly. He seemed to imitate her, like a young girl copying her big sister, although they were the same age. The way he sat with his feet neatly tucked under him, the delicate way he walked, the way he giggled, even they way he spoke, was very girlish. He and Nancy could almost be twins. Of course the herbal mixture she had been feeding him helped. His skin was as soft and smooth as any girl's. His curves were slowly filling out, giving him rounded hips and a small waist. And his chest was getting distinctly puffy. It wasn't much. Give him a haircut and put him into a suit and no one would notice anything unusual. But he was slowly growing into a beautifully feminine boy. Maybe it was time, she thought, to move him on to the next stage. CHAPTER 3 One summer morning Florence received a telegram and announced that her old friend Gabriel Morgan was coming to visit. "Hooray!" said Nancy, "Good old Gabe!" "Yes, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you again," said Florence. "However," she said glancing at Charles, "I'm not sure what he'll think to find a man in the house. He might be a bit jealous." "What?" said Nancy, "No! I don't believe it. Uncle Gabe wouldn't..." "No, no!" Florence interrupted, giving Nancy a hard look, "I think he might be. Which means the only thing to do will be to let him think Charles is a girl." "What?" Charles suddenly felt confused and nervous. "No. I couldn't. No!" "Oh! Oh Charlie, yes!" Nancy's eyes were wide with delight. "Of course you could. You could look lovely. Wouldn't you like to be pretty, like me?" "Well, yes, but..." "No buts," said Florence. "You can do this Charles, and you will. Nancy and the others will help you prepare. Gabriel is coming late this afternoon and I want you looking the perfect young lady before he gets here." "Don't you worry at all," said Nancy as she led Charles from the dining room. "Gabe's a perfect gentleman." She sighed. "I just know he'll like you." "But Aunt Florence said..." "Oh never mind about that. Let's get you started." First Agnes and Nancy gave him a long bath and scrubbed him raw until his flesh shone pink. Then Edith took over the proceedings. "Fetch my scissors would you Agnes, he needs a hair cut." "Not too short," said Nancy. "He's got lovely hair." "Certainly not. A nice pageboy cut, I think." Edith sat Charles down and told him not to move an inch. Then she combed, snipped and curled until Charles' hair hung straight down over his ears to his jaw line and curled under his cheeks and his fringe hung down to his eyebrows. "Ooh, you look so cute," said Nancy. Then he was dressed in flesh coloured stockings attached to a garter belt and a chemise and bloomers in white cotton. And then a problem became evident. "That's going to stick out all day isn't it?" said Nancy. "I think Madame might have something for that," said Agnes. "Yes," said Edith, "ask Mama what to do." So Agnes went to consult with Florence and came back with an arrangement of straps made of polished leather, like something you'd put on a horse. She pulled down Charles' bloomers and manipulated him until he spurted and then she wiped him with a cloth and fitted him into the harness. It was well made and it fitted snugly, without chafing, but it quite restricted any movement of his member. "It doesn't look very comfortable," said Nancy. "No matter," said Edith. "He only has to wear it for a few hours." "It's ok," said Charles and pulled his drawers back up. They picked out a dress for him in filmy crimson silk that fluttered over his skin, with hundreds of silvery beads that glittered in the light. It was sleeveless and cut into 'V's in front and back and it hung only a few inches below his knees. He felt quite exposed with his chest, arms and legs bare to the world. They gave him bangles for his arms and a rope of pearls round his neck so he thought he would rattle when he moved. The got him a headband over his hair with a fine ostrich feather sticking out of it. ("For an exotic touch," said Nancy.) They had him put on black, leather, strappy shoes with two inches each of heel that made him feel he was teetering on tiptoe. Then they sat him down and Agnes made him up with ivory powder, two dabs of rouge, dark eyeliner and shadow and thick red lipstick. When they were all done they led Charles to a mirror and he could hardly believe what he saw. The thought that he could actually play the part of the sophisticated, alluring young woman that stared back at him was both thrilling and frightening. On the inside he still felt like a scared young boy, but in the mirror he looked chic and sexy, almost intimidatingly glamorous. He looked like Nancy and Edith did when they dressed up and he found it extremely exciting. "Oh, Charlie," Nancy purred lustfully, "You look incredible!" "Hmmph," Edith tutted, "can he dance?" "Of course he can," said Nancy, before Charles could say anything. "Come on, let's show her." He really couldn't, but Nancy led him in a waltz and a polka and he followed her lead as best he could while Edith counted out the rhythm. All the elegance he'd felt standing in front of the mirror left him the instant he started clomping round the room like an elephant. But Nancy kept him at it. He slowly got used to his heels and almost forgot he was wearing them. He started to get the hang of the movements, the swaying and gliding and twirling, started to feel like he was dancing on air. And he started to enjoy himself. His fear ebbed away and he felt like he might actually manage this. He could do it. Mr Morgan probably wouldn't pay much attention to him, since he'd be coming to visit Florence. All Charles had to do was sit quietly, maybe dance a couple of times, and everything would be fine. He could be a girl for a night. When Florence saw him she gaped with such open-mouthed wonder that he felt shy and he blushed. She had him twirl round so she could examine him from every angle. She admired his hair and make-up, making him feel proud, almost as if he had done it all himself. Then she took him aside to speak to him. "Charles, have you, um, emptied your bowels today?" "Yes Aunt, before breakfast." "So you bathed after that. Good. That's good." Then she held him by the arms and told him, "Charles, you look so lovely it's almost a miracle," and he quite forgot her strange question. As they waited for Mr Morgan to arrive Charles felt increasingly awkward again, all dressed up with nothing to do. He fiddled nervously with his pearls. Finally a knock came at the door and Agnes went to open it. She came back with a man, tall, strong-limbed and broad- shouldered, with a thick black beard and twinkling blue eyes. All the Beaufort women leapt up to greet him, so Charles stood up as well, hanging back and trying to look inconspicuous. "Florence, my dear!" Mr Morgan cried in a refined New England accent. "And Nancy, and Edith! How are you all? And, oh my! You have another guest." "Gabe, darling," said Florence, "allow me to introduce our cousin, uh, Charlotte, Charlotte Wetherby. She's staying with us for a while." "My dear Miss Wetherby, or may I call you Lottie?" "Er," Charles stammered. "Lottie, then. It's an honour." The big man bowed down, took Charles' hand and kissed it, and looked into his eyes. Charles felt faint in Gabriel's masculine presence. He blushed and then, almost without thinking, he gave a little curtsey and he looked down at his shoes to try and hide the strange emotions that were flowing throw him. Over drinks and dinner the conversation was animated. Gabriel told amusing stories about people he did business with, many of whom Florence seemed to know about as well, and he listened as the girls talked about village life. He was particularly attentive to Charles, solicitous, without prying, asking him how he found living at Silverwood. Charles felt shy and awkward to begin with, but after his first glass of wine he found himself relaxing and opening up until he was chatting and laughing as much as the others. After dinner they moved to the front room for dancing. Edith and Florence alternated on the piano while the others waltzed. Gabriel danced with Florence first while Nancy danced with Charles. Then Gabriel took Charles' hand and asked for the honour of the next dance. As Gabriel swept him around the room Charles' body seemed to follow Gabe's lead naturally, as if without any direction from Charles himself, which was lucky as Charles felt quite unconscious of anything except Gabe's tender eyes gazing at him and Gabe's gentle touch guiding him. Charles felt transported, carried on a wave of euphoria, from the wine, the music and the dancing. After a few waltzes and more wine Gabe went out to his car and brought back a box of gramophone records and Florence got out her gramophone. The music that came then was like nothing Charles had heard before. Wild and exotic, this "jazz" music warmed his blood and set his heart racing. They showed him how to do the Charleston and the Quickstep and they jived into the night. As the evening wore on Charles felt more and more tipsy and his world focused on the handsome American, his warm breath, his strong arms, his flattering words. He didn't notice the others tiring and slipping away to their beds, didn't notice when he and Gabriel were the only ones left and Gabe gently led him up to the guest room. But he did notice when Gabe cupped his face in his big hands and gently, but firmly, kissed him, long and deep on the lips. Charles' heart melted and he wanted to give himself over to this good man. He wasn't equipped quite like Nancy or Agnes, but there was something he could do that he'd learned from them. He kneeled down, stroking his hands across Gabe's broad chest and belly. "Ah, Lottie!" Gabe murmured, "so sweet." Charles unbuttoned the older man's fly, then slowly reached in to find warm flesh waiting. Gabe's penis erected, visibly straining as Charles looked at it. And suddenly the mist cleared from Charles' head and absolute clarity came as he started stroking the magnificent member. The size of it, and seeing it from this angle, made it something quite new for Charles, as if he really was a girl seeing one for the first time ever. He kissed the head, tasting salt. He licked across the top, down the shaft and round the base, trying to coat it with his saliva. He tried to fit the top into his mouth. At first he couldn't get it in, he had to stretch his lips wide open. He felt Gabe stroking his hair, urging him on, gently thrusting into his mouth. Charles gagged, pulled back, tried again, gagged again. But each time he got further down Gabe's shaft and better managed to control his reflexes. When Agnes fellated him she got all the way down, her tongue reaching to his balls. There was no way he could manage the same for Gabe, who was much bigger than he was. But he could use his hands on the shaft and work up a synchronised motion. And Gabe helped by gently thrusting in the same rhythm, as if Charles' mouth and hands together formed a pussy, for fucking. And all the while Gabe moaned encouragement. "Oh, Lottie. My darling, pretty Lottie. How dear and sweet you are, my own little Lottie." But when the head of Gabe's cock suddenly expanded and twitched Gabe pulled it out and pinched the tip, to calm his ardour, and Charles felt cheated, bereft of the river of semen he could sense had been coming. Gabe stroked his cheek. "Come, Lottie. There's more to be done. We have to save ourselves for the night to come." And Charles flinched, scared. "I... I can't. I..." Gabe sounded cold. "Don't you want to? I thought... You seemed to like me." "I do. I love you, you're so wonderful, but I..." "You're not really a girl?" Charles' heart fell and he turned away. "You could tell." "What? Oh, no. Your aunt told me of course. I would never have known otherwise. I almost forgot. You are a woman to me, an enchanting, beautiful woman. I want... No, I must have you, my ravishing Lottie. You want to please me, don't you? You know what I want from you?" Charles knew and the thought frightened him. But he thought of Agnes. If she could do it then so could he. He nodded demurely. "Well then, take my hand." Gabriel led him to the bed and laid him down gently. Charles stretched out nervously and felt Gabe kiss him on the lips, the neck and the throat, felt Gabe's hands stroke his body through his dress. His nipples hardened under Gabe's caresses. His heart fluttered. Then Gabe's hands reached under his dress to his stockinged thighs and up to his fleshy behind. The cold, thrilling touch sparked Charles' aching desires and he started to move, to wriggle and squirm, moaning lustfully, "Oh Gabe, oh yes Gabe!" Gabriel turned Charles onto his knees, pulled down his drawers and carefully unstrapped his harness, making him sigh in relief as the blood flowed back into his shrivelled member. Face buried in the blankets Charles felt Gabe's feather kisses on his smooth bottom, then nothing. Then something cold and greasy was smeared between his cheeks. Then... God in Heaven! He felt something huge bearing slowly but firmly against his opening. The slippery grease meant he could offer no resistance, even had he wanted to, and he felt himself opening up to admit the intruder. He felt himself strain, as if on the toilet, but this only made him open wider, allowing deeper penetration. Extraordinary feelings were planted, grew and blossomed deep inside him. A doorway Charles hadn't even known could exist opened a tiny crack and promised a new world of sensation. He couldn't resist looking round, but to his horror he saw that it was only a finger. Gabe was using his forefinger to apply the grease, easing it slowly in and out of Charles' virgin rectum. "Turn round honey. We're not ready yet." Charles buried his face back in the bed and felt his anus spasm in nervous anticipation. "Easy now." Gabe slowly removed his finger. There was a pause and then, there it was. It felt the size of a table leg and it was pushing, pushing, pushing and then, aah! It was in. "That's just the tip. Do you feel it?" "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!" There was a pause while Charles felt time had stopped. He lost all sensation except for the sweet alien feelings in his bowels. He felt as if he was now nothing but an emptiness being filled. Gabe slowly eased himself all the way into Charles' nether parts. After the initial push Gabe's cock made its way in smoothly until he could feel Gabe's pelvis pushing against his buttocks. Gabe leant over, placed a hand against Charles' belly and kissed the back of his neck. Then he started easing in and out with a slow but accelerating rhythm. The friction Charles felt inside burned with sweet fire and flames of passion raged through his body. He responded instinctively to Gabe's thrusts, pushing back in a complementary rhythm. The fire in his innards made him squirm and wriggle in Gabe's embrace. Then Gabe pulled out, turned Charles over on his back and mounted him once again. Charles' legs waved in the air and his stiff little cock bounced uselessly back and forth while Gabe pounded relentlessly against him, out of control. Charles knew then what it was to be fucked, fucked like a woman. He knew that as a boy he could never have it better than this. Only having a real pussy could be any sweeter. As Gabriel reached his climax something rose up in Charles as well. A sweet explosion wholly unlike a normal orgasm went off amidst the fire, a massive spasm rippled through his body and he felt a tiny dribble of semen emerging from his cock and dripping onto his belly. Then Gabe gave a great moan and a final, violent thrust before collapsing on top of Charles and pumping a milky river deep inside his hole. Then he gently pulled out and lay himself down next to Charles. When he'd rested, Gabe raised his head, looked into Charles' eyes and kissed him gently once again. "Thank you, my sweet, sweet Lottie." "No, thank you, I..." "Shh, don't say anything. You are so beautiful, like a dream." While Charles lay quietly Gabriel went to fill a chamber pot with fresh water. He washed his penis and then gently bathed Charles' tender regions. Then he and Charles stripped off their clothing, lay down together and slept in each other's arms. When Charles awoke the bright light of summer came through the window and filled his heart with joy. His bottom was very sore, raw and aching like he'd been shitting for a week. But the memory of the ecstasy of the previous night made the pain ebb away in his mind. He put a finger on his anus and an erotic spasm flowed through him, arching his back and throwing his head against the pillow. He stretched languorously on the bed and thought about the night before. Fucking a woman was a wonderful thing, but that had been something else. Certainly he had found it very satisfying, but also there had been the pleasure he had given to Gabe. This wealthy and handsome man had desired him, courted him and won him with an ardour that took his breath away. After being with Florence or with the girls he would feel that they had given him a great gift that his clumsy inexperience scarcely deserved. Now he had given that gift to another. The heavy solidity of Gabriel lay asleep next to him. Charles lay his head on that great hairy chest, pulled the sheet up and sneaked a peek at the pink beast lying between Gabriel's legs, curled up in sleep like its master. Then he heard a low yawn. One big hand stroked his hair and another moved down his back and rested on his waist. "Good morning my darling Lottie, sweet girl. Give me a kiss." Charles kissed him on the lips, then moved down to kiss him again on the cock. He wanted what he had missed out on the previous night. Gabriel's penis seemed like an old friend now and Charles opened his mouth and took in Gabe's expanding girth as if he had been doing it forever, licking, sucking and stroking until a moan and a twitch told him what to expect and he drank down the salt, sweet, sticky stream as if it was wine. He looked up at Gabriel and smiled, "Was that good?" "Honey, that was incredible. But I'm afraid I've got bad news. I have business in London this afternoon. I really have to go now." "Are you coming back tonight?" "I'm afraid not Lottie, not for a week or so." Gabriel laughed at the look of anguish on Charles' face. "Now, now Lottie. Be a good girl and wait patiently. I will come back. And when I do you won't be sorry!" He climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes. Before he left, he turned and said, "Honey, one more thing." "What?" "Don't let that little hole of yours close up again so tight, you hear me? Ask your aunt for some dildos. I know she's got a big collection, all different sizes. You please yourself with one of those every day and you'll be nice and ready for when I get back. I won't hurt you so much next time, okay?" "Yes, sir!" "Okay. You be a good girl now. Goodbye." And with that he was gone. CHAPTER 4 When Charles got himself up and dressed and down to breakfast Nancy looked up and said, "Charlie, you're almost glowing! Did you have a wonderful night?" She sighed. "Was he gentle? Was he tender?" Edith harrumphed and went on reading her book and Charles blushed and stammered, "I... I can't..." "Oh, leave him alone," said Florence. "You don't have to say anything, Charles, we understand." He knew Nancy wouldn't leave it there and sure enough when he was with her and Agnes that night they had him tell all. "That's a good idea about a dildo," said Agnes. "Let me get one." She fetched out a large leather thing, oiled it down and worked it slowly into Charles' arse while he buried his head in Nancy's pussy. From then on their play always involved such toys. The girls used them on him and he used them on them and he felt more and more at one with them, as if they were all sisters together. And Charles' life was happier than ever. Only four days after he had left Gabriel rolled up in his car and called out for Charlotte and Charles immediately dropped what he was doing, ran over and jumped into Gabe's arms. By tacit agreement Charles took the rest of the day off to devote himself to Gabe. Charles now wore only girl's clothes every day, for Gabe only visited for a day at a time and Charles never knew when that would be, so he wanted to be as pretty as possible every time. The two of them fucked with an unceasing passion whenever they could, in every possible way. Gabriel would lie back while Charles rode him like a cowboy. Or else Charles would lie passively while Gabe took him with lustful vigour. They went for picnics in secluded spots in the woods, followed by long, gentle lovemaking, or they squelched hastily together in the bath. And "Charlotte" started making her way in society as well. Florence announced, one morning, that someone (and here she looked sternly at Nancy) had happened to mention that "cousin Charlotte" was staying, and so she had been invited, along with the rest of the Beauforts, to a tea party at the vicarage. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," said Florence. "I had thought that, unused to society as you were, you would prefer to stay at Silverwood and not get involved in the village, but now I think it might be good for you to get out a little. If you did go I think maybe it ought to be as Charlotte. I don't really want to try and explain everything now. Perhaps you'd enjoy it but, like I say, it's up to you." Charles took a deep breath, paused and said, "I... I think I would like to go, Aunt Florence, especially if Nancy's there too." "Of course I will be," said Nancy. "Just think. They'll have no idea you're anything other than a beautiful girl. It'll be such fun!" "Yes, indeed," said Florence. "Maybe you think we played a silly trick on you with Gabe, but this is different. In the village they really don't know who you are. Now, I have every confidence you can pull this off, but if you're not completely sure you don't have to do it. So, do you still want to come?" He smiled at her. "Yes, Aunt Florence. I really do." Venturing out to Little Dolton village Charles wore a pale blue skirt and cardigan over a white blouse with a satin brassiere, a brown wrap- over coat trimmed with fur and a green, brimless "cloche" hat that came down so low over his face that he had to hold his head up very high, just to see where he was going. The four of them drove down in Florence's car and were greeted at the vicarage by a thin, harassed- looking maid, who showed them in to the front room. "Ah, Mrs Beaufort, how delightful!" a thin, piping voice called out, "And the young Misses Beaufort. And you must be Miss Wetherby, how charming!" The tweedy Reverend Carstairs sat them down, poured them tea and introduced Charles to his plump wife and his diffident son, James, and then to bluff Sir Roger Hargrove and his children, cheerful Emily and bored-looking George. Edith immediately sat down next to George and Charles found himself sharing a sofa with Nancy and Emily. The conversation moved from the village fete to local politics and the state of the nation and then to George Hargrove's recent academic and sporting achievements, to which Edith gave complimentary gasps of astonishment. Charles was surprised at Edith's apparent change in personality. Usually sardonic and unsmiling she seemed to simper or giggle at every remark the young man made and he received this tribute as if it was his natural due. Emily modestly admitted winning first prize at a recent show jumping event. And then the Reverend drew Charles into the conversation. "I don't believe we've seen you in church Miss Wetherby," he said. "Now Reverend," said Florence. "We all serve God in our various ways." "Oh, very true, of course," replied the vicar. "We do so appreciate your special contributions Mrs Beaufort, but it would be such an honour to see you and your family in our little church occasionally, as it would be to receive your young guest." "Charlotte makes her devotions as she chooses," said Florence. The vicar put his hands together and nodded sagely. "In these enlightened days, of course, religion is a matter of individual conscience. However," he continued, "I hope it would not be presumptuous of me to extend the hand of invitation Miss Wetherby. You'll find us a small but welcoming congregation." "Er, thank you very much," said Charles, "I will certainly consider it," and the vicar beamed delightedly and then moved on to talk of other things. James Carstairs had been quite quiet throughout, but something about the shy young man drew Charles' eye and he could tell James was interested in him as well. When a pause came in the conversation James coughed and said, "Uh, Miss Charlotte, would you care to take a turn round the garden with me." "Oh yes, of course," Reverend Carstairs twittered, "Go on, my boy, give Miss Wetherby the grand tour. Show her the geraniums." Charles instinctively looked to Nancy, who nodded in encouragement, and then he rose and offered his arm to James. "Thank you. I'd be delighted." James daintily took Charles' elbow and led him out into the garden. "I suppose people must constantly ask you what it's like living with your aunt. She's such an, um, unusual lady." "Is she?" said Charles. "I hadn't noticed." "I suppose you wouldn't, you must have known her for years." "Oh no," said Charles, "I only met her recently, after my guardian died." "Oh, I'm so sorry!" said James. "It's alright," said Charles. "Aunt Florence is much nicer than he was." "That's good," said James. "She seems very nice. I mean, people think she's eccentric, but they like her. Even that pompous old prig Hargrove has a soft spot for her. Rumour has it she helped cure some mysterious ailment of his a long time ago and she's been persona grata with him ever since. And my father lives to argue philosophy with her, even though he worries about her immortal soul." "Um, yes, I noticed that." "It's a bit silly really. Your aunt gives very generously to the Church Benevolent Fund, so he doesn't feel he can really complain. But he also thinks it's his duty to gather in the lost sheep, if you know what I mean. But I'm sure Mrs Beaufort knows perfectly well what she's doing. Shall we go back inside? Your aunt might be ready to leave soon." James led Charles back through the vicarage gardens and Charles felt that this moment, with James, had passed too quickly. He wanted to get to know him better. "Thank you so much, Mr Carstairs..." "Oh, James, call me James..." "James then," said Charles. "I do hope we can do this again sometime. Really." "Oh, of course," James stuttered and blushed, "we must. Certainly." He smiled gently at Charles and Charles blushed with pleasure. And then they returned to the vicarage and the tea party came to an end. Though they had barely exchanged words at the vicarage, Emily Hargrove proved a good friend, inviting Charles along to everything she did and introducing him to all the other young people in the village. And, when she realised how Charles felt about him she made sure James was always there as well. So the pair got to know each other over picnics, garden parties and games of tennis, for which Charles wore white stockings and extremely short skirts that almost showed his knees when he reached up to serve. They went on long walks together, hand in hand, and shared private kisses in leafy glades. Charles started going to church with James and all the congregants said how lovely it was that young James was courting such a nice girl. James was sweet, tender, intelligent and very shy. He reminded Charles a bit of himself. He felt comfortable and confident with James. While Gabe was a surging, irresistible force of nature, James was a good and loving friend. When a society ball was arranged for Hargrove Hall Charlotte Wetherby was on the guest list with Nancy and Edith. All three of them dressed up to the very nines. They were the bee's knees and the cat's pyjamas all rolled into one, with feathers, beads, frills and pearls everywhere you looked. Hargrove Hall was a heaving mass of flappers and their beaus, all drinking champagne and doing the foxtrot. Charles danced with wild abandon with every boy he could. They all seemed so handsome in their dark tailored suits and the attention they all paid him, whether it was courteous flattery or furtive groping, was intoxicatingly exciting. Charles had never before seen so many other boys his own age and it strangely dawned on him how different they were from him. It wasn't just a matter of his dress, or the hair and make- up. They were taut-skinned and muscular, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. Even the smoothest shaven of them had a slight roughness of incipient stubble and a handful sported wispy moustaches. And they were all quite flat chested. For a girl Charles was fashionably boyish. But for a boy he was, well, a little curvy. Even skinny James, no sportsman, had some inner steel in him. In James' strong, gentle embrace Charles felt soft and frail. When Charles sneaked a hand inside James' shirt he found a sprinkling of curly hairs across the other boy's chest. When they were both too tired and drunk to dance any more Charles and James stepped out into the moonlit gardens for some fresh air. They giggled together as they staggered across the lawn, leaning against each other for mutual support. They lay down together in the shadow of a wall, hidden from all the world. Charles lay across James and kissed him tenderly. He felt James' hands move down his back and stroke his bottom. He moved one hand slowly down James' front until he found what he was looking for and grasped it firmly. James gave a nervous gasp. "Wha... What are you doing?" "Don't worry," Charles told him. "I know what I'm doing. Just lie back and relax." Charles opened James' fly, pulled James' cock out and let his fingers run up and down it. It stuck straight up with soft, satiny skin covering the rock-hard firmness of youth. Charles leaned over, licked round the head and took it into his mouth. James was not as large as Gabe and Charles found that, with care, he could take in the entire length. He rested there a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of James' warm solidity filling his mouth. Then he started sliding his lips up and down the rigid shaft. He stroked it with his hand a bit and kissed the tip and then he went back to sucking. He rubbed himself through his skirt. Although his own cock was kept firmly under control in its harness warm lovely feelings spread through his groin and he longed for the day, someday, when he could have James in his bottom. With Charles' lips bobbing madly up and down his cock James couldn't hold back. He gave a low, trembling moan and spurted wildly. Charles eagerly slurped up every drop. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, used the mirror on his compact to reapply his lipstick in the moonlight and laid his head against James' chest. James stroked Charle's hair and said, "I love you Charlotte." Charles smiled to himself and snuggled up closer. CHAPTER 5 Charles didn't want to think this wonderful, heavenly time could ever end. When it did it was foolish greed that started it. Charles had free run of Nancy's wardrobe. She let him play with and try on anything he wanted. But he simply had to try on Edith's dresses as well. He knew Edith wouldn't willingly let him touch her clothes except to mend them for her, so he sneaked in when she was out at the village. One night Edith was at a party and Charles badly misjudged how long she would be. He was looking through some dresses in her wardrobe when, suddenly, he heard a noise down the corridor and, immediately realising she was back early, he climbed in and shut the wardrobe doors behind him. Charles found he could put his eye to the crack between the doors and in the dull twilight he could just make out two people frantically undressing. There was Edith's smooth, milk-white body and another figure, short, but brawny, with smooth skin, short, ragged hair and full, round breasts. The faint rays of the setting sun shimmered off her muscled limbs and then he caught a tiny glimpse of her face. It was Sam, Sam and Edith together. When both girls had fully stripped Edith lay down on the bed while Sam sat on the edge, facing away from Charles and apparently fiddling with something. Then Sam rolled on top of Edith and started kissing her mouth, her neck and her titties, grunting and moaning while Edith stretched and writhed. Sam started thrusting her hips against Edith's pussy and Edith started moanin