tagFetishDavid's French Tutor Ch. 06

David's French Tutor Ch. 06

byThorilla©

(It was 1885 and, as a nineteen year old boy, I was staying with family friends at their large house in the English Midlands. I was there to learn French conversation under the tutelage of Miss. Marie; the family had two 18 year old twins, Anna and Sarah who were also learning French with me, this is part six of my tale)

Another storm seemed to be brewing. Evidently two weather fronts were crossing the county in close procession. Sarah washed off my emissions using tepid water from her washstand bowl and a face flannel. Outside it was becoming gloomy again although it was only 6 o'clock in the afternoon. Anna assisted her sister in sponging off my semen from her hair, face and dress and I observed the scene with relish, in a self-satisfied and somewhat smug manner.

I thought about my long, restricted boarding school days and the many times I had masturbated at night, alone in my study bedroom. I imagined women, many women, any women, and all women. My thoughts used to dwell on the headmaster's daughter, Rowena.

She was of a thin fragile creature with mouse coloured tousled hair. For a small woman, turned twenty, she had disproportionate high opinions and imagined herself to enjoy the same power and privileges as her father, Dr. Octavius Armstrong M.A. (Cantab).

Many were the times she admonished boys for running in school or talking loudly. Her curt screech could be heard echoing along the corridors or across the quadrangle.

"Mr. Shaw, a little less haste please." were often her words addressed to me to slow down my progress along the passageways.

Many times in my dreams I would be riding Miss Rowena Armstrong, pushing myself onwards towards violent orgasm. She would be writhing pleasingly beneath me in her petticoats, screaming into my ears "Mr. Shaw a little less haste please. Please Mr.Shaw a little less haste, Please Mr. Shaw" as I forcefully emptied myself into the thick bedsheets.

From the girls' bedroom window the rain appeared as a solid veil attacking the valley. In the distance thunder rumbled and lightning flashes illuminated hillsides, woodlands and the Old Priory. I was aware that Sarah and Anna were becoming noticeably ill at ease. The thunderclouds again had darkened the sky so it was almost pitch black. A massive thunderclap reverberated throughout the house and was succeeded by more lightning.

Continuous high winds murmured across the house like banshees, creating ghostly moans from unexpected corners. The girls ordered each other not to be silly and stared around them hysterically. It reminded me of a Horace Walpole novel.

I returned to my room and from the staircase below heard an insistent but faint thudding. Downstairs I followed the sound from the hallway into the vestibule where it became a loud metallic knock against the heavy outer oak doors. I pulled the huge doors open and there before me was a windswept, wild-eyed Benjamin, the gardener's son. His coat, mackintosh cape and cap were drenched.

"Thank goodness you heard me sir," he yelled,"Bridge Lane is flooded and part of the bridge has been washed away. My father's had word from Cook and she says it's impossible for her and Miss. Marie to get back here tonight. He says that they'll both be staying at the village inn until tomorrow." He shouted above the storm.

I invited him in to dry himself, and offered Benjamin some of my clothes because we were of similar stature, but he insisted on returning to the gardener's cottage on Hall Lane. Off he went, weaving, striding and jumping over puddles in his large boots.

Slamming the doors shut and bolting them, the old house became quiet except for the spectral groaning from roof timbers and fireplaces. Having lit an oil lamp I collected food from the larder, including an opened bottle of wine. I took these up to the girls' room where I found the two beautiful eighteen year olds again clinging to each other on the bed. I set up the oil lamp on a table and lit several candles. The room began to look cheery and welcoming. Much against their pleadings I returned to the kitchen and collected various other items including glass tumblers, plates, apples, water, matches and additional candles.

On my return the girls were sitting on their large double bed, no longer frightened but obviously still very troubled.

"Cheer up you two; anyone would think you had just experienced another thunderstorm," said I, in a light-hearted off-hand way as thunder rumbled, this time having retreated from the immediate area and heading further east.

I poured Anna, Sarah and I a glass of red wine while we tucked into the food. We made a friendly looking tableau. There was me sitting on the carpet leaning against the foot of the bed, wearing a pair of baggy Indian, Bengal-striped cotton underpants. Sarah sat on the bedroom chair with her cold meats and bread.

Anna sat near the fire which I had previously lit, warming herself drinking wine and eating sausages, cheese and an apple. I felt pleasantly relaxed. The storm appeared to pass and I explained the problem with the bridge and mentioned Cook and Miss. Marie not being able to return until the morning. The girls looked distraught.

They made me swear that I would not leave them alone, on their own, and that I would remain in their room with them the whole night.

I willingly agreed as I intimated to them that I felt duty bound to 'protect them and their reputation' from any wretch who dared to forcibly enter the house and threaten them physically or to plunder their virginity. There was a look of trust and confidence as I vowed to be their protector.

I smiled inwardly as I thought about what we could do to each other until dawn. I was very much aware that whatever happened between us I could not permit myself to 'deflower' these healthy young sisters, as I would be ostracised by polite society, disinherited by my parents and hunted down.

I carried the girl's full chamber pots to the chambermaids store cupboard and collected two clean ones, and some flannel face cloths.

Once back in their bedroom Anna locked the door and the three of us prepared for a long night.

I sat on the carpet leaning back against the foot of the bed, my second glass of wine in hand. Anna sat next to me, our bodies and knees touching. Sarah sat on the bedroom chair brushing her hair. Her knees were apart and her skirt and petticoat layers draped in a big arc between her legs. She looked delicious.

From a bookcase Anna produced a large old book containing illustrations of ancient Greek statues. She told me that she and Sarah used to spend hours studying these and trying to copy the poses when they were younger.

One of them would pose and the other would make little adjustments so as to accurately portray the original as far as possible. Many of the statues in the book were drawn from sculpture on the Acropolis in Athens. The Parthenon frieze was illustrated in minute detail, so too was The Porch of the Caryatids on the Erechtheum.

"Sarah used to do a very good impersonation of a Caryatid," said Anna laughing.

"But none of them seem to have any arms," said I.

"That's what made it so easy," she said staring at her sister who promptly pushed her tongue out.

Both girls appeared very relaxed now that the second storm had passed and that they were with me. It must have been a novelty for them to have someone spend the night in their room.

Their white petticoat hems were delightfully on display beneath their skirts and kept catching my attaention.

The book lay open across both our laps. I helped her turn the pages with their tissue paper interleaves. I could tell that they both knew every illustration in detail. The book lay across my erection and at each turn of the page her hand would brush lightly against my leg. Anna's hair touched my bare shoulders and chest as she pointed details out to me. Her hair smelt of lavender

"This is Artemis, the huntress, Isn't she beautiful. Sarah show David your huntress pose." She told her sister.

Sarah promptly stood up and smiled self consciously; her brown striped 'Alice-in- Wonderland' dress fell back into place hiding her petticoats.

She placed her feet at right angles to each other, wide apart. She stood sideways staring into some mythological distance and pretended to hold a hunting bow. She drew back the bow until her imaginary arrow was ready for release. She held her head back proudly thrusting her chin up in triumph. The pose was very good. Anna told her to lower her right arm by a few inches and twist her neck slightly. She held the pose firmly trying not to giggle.

Her eyes turned towards me and flashed a smile.

"I may have to inspect Sarah's pose in more detail," I said to Anna so I slid the book onto her lap and replaced my wine on the table.

My erection was partly lost in my baggy cotton underpants but I was aware that both eighteen year olds had seen it as I crawled slowly up to Sarah.

Looking up at her she stood stiffly but very slightly shaking. At any minute she was going to burst out laughing. She kept looking down at me and at her sister who was smiling widely. She held her pose pretending to appear serious.

"Well as 'Chief Curator of Sculpture' at the 'Jelly Gallery of Greek Poses' I am required to inspect 'Artemis' in great detail starting with her feet." I chuntered on in a mock professorial voice.

I stretched myself flat on my stomach and stared closely at Sarah's feet. They were pretty feet encased in jet black cotton stockings. I poked one of them with a finger and she kicked me playfully in the face.

"Why is the statue moving?" I complained staring at her ankles a couple of inches from my nose.

"Because the statue is ticklish," retorted Anna behind me.

"But statues are never ticklish," I replied again touching Sarah's foot. I heard stifled laughter above me and was rewarded by being prodded by her foot in my face a second time.

I crawled further so that my head was between her feet and under her skirt and petticoats. I stared closely at her toes which were within licking distance. Her petticoat hems tickled the back of my head and neck as her body shivered with expectation.

Clearly she did not know what I was going to do next. Anna behind me giggled.

I twisted myself so I was lying on my back staring up Artemis' dress and petticoat.

The mere thought of being under Sarah's skirt made me feel stiff but to actually be there made me doubly excited. I stared up in wonderment. Her bloomer legs were apart and her little ribbons which fastened up her crotchless opening hung down. I savoured the view.

I slid my head so it nuzzled against her black stocking foot. She struggled to retain her composure as I grabbed her ankle. She kicked out like a cat while Anna hooted with laughter.

I stopped and she replaced her foot this time on my face. I had become part of the statue. She pushed down on my face and eased off clearly not wanting to hurt me.

I felt her toes contract as she smoothed her sole over my nose and lips. I breathed in the attractive odours from her foot. I spread my arms as wide apart as possible and enjoyed the secret satisfaction of being trodden on by this beautiful, healthy eighteen year old girl.

Anna was clearly getting bored with her sisters antics and stood up next to her and gave her a large hug congratulating her on her pose.

I had the feeling that Anna had realised that I enjoyed being trodden on beneath petticoats and skirts and that she was going to 'tap into' some of the action, as it were.

They both looked down at me beneath them as I lay flat on my back, arms and legs stretched out almost purring like a large cat. Anna placed her foot on my face supported by Sarah. She rubbed it gently in little circles while I smiled up at them with my tongue out trying to lick between her toes.

Petticoat lace swished above me as I moved my hands gingerly down to my raging erection. Sarah's feet joined Anna's as she caressed my neck and chest. My nipples tingled as she gentle massaged my pectoral area.

Anna stood directly above my head and slid her stockinged feet over and over my face paying particular attention to my nose and mouth. She pushed her supporting foot against my neck as my eyes wandered up her legs and petticoats and rested on her pubic hair which from time to time swayed into view.

Sarah saw that my hands were once again inside my baggy Indian-cotton Bengal-striped underpants. She was beginning to understand my constant need to masturbate in their presence. I was aware of her curiosity so pushed her foot off my chest and onto my stomach.

Anna watched her sister, intrigued as she moved her foot over my chest, rubbing it constantly backwards and forwards.

I guided Sarah's foot to the waistband of my baggy pants and untied the cord drawstring which held them up. As I let go of her foot she instinctively knew what to do.

Her petticoats swayed above me as I felt her slide her foot towards my groin where my erect penis was waiting for her. Her slender foot disappeared into my pants and began massaging my penis head.

Anna removed her foot from my chest and joined Sarah. They put their arms round each others shoulders for support and their lovely faces appeared above me lit by the flickering firelight and lamplight.

Anna slid my pants down using her toes which appeared to be almost prehensile in their precision. My erection came into full view as they massaged it between both their feet.

Over and over and over again they massaged it, prodded it, and rubbed it. The two twins squeezed me hard rubbing and trapping my throbbing erection between both their feet, taking turns to tease it and stimulate it forcefully. My mind was in turmoil trying to hold back my inevitable orgasm but they persisted mercilessly urging me to let go.

No words were spoken as I witnessed and engaged in a physical dialogue between two dainty girlish feet and one erect penis.

I looked on in wonderment and failed to comprehend how I could withstand so much stimulation without ejaculation.

I could see and hear Sarah's and Anna's bodies moved inside their crisp well laundered 'Alice-in-Wonderland' dresses above me. Beneath their skirts masses of petticoat lace peeped out rhythmically froufrouing as they moved their stocking feet over the tenderest and most sensitive part of my body over and over and over again. They glanced down at me smiling dreamily and cheekily. It had gone on too long.

I felt seminal fluid welling up inside me like a Tsunami and held back for as long as possible before seven violent thrusts of semen exploded from me in thick slimy strands. This covered most of my stomach and a pair of black stocking feet.

I lay back gasping for breath as they continued rubbing my warm sticky semen over my smooth belly with their small feet.

I concluded that it was clearly time to get undressed for bed.

(continued in part 7)

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