October 1947

Forking a huge portion of scrambled egg into her mouth, Lizbeth said, "And there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. We all have needs and desires, and it is stupid to have to wait until marriage to fulfill our desires. We aren't hurting anyone. Oftentimes the only carnal pleasure we will ever know is what we find before us at a given moment.

"Look at me. My man is off in Germany. I don't know if I'll ever see him again. War could erupt tomorrow, or he might meet a German slut of a whore. God knows there seem to be millions of them, all too willing to spread their legs for nothing more than a candy bar.

"And you, Beatrice, you might marry the man of your dreams and find that he's inept in the bedroom. Don't look at me that way. It happens. I know it does. Not to me, but I have several girlfriends who go dancing every Friday night looking for a man who can get it up like James and Roy did last night."

Beatrice unglued her tongue long enough to gasp out, "Lizbeth, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying let's enjoy their cocks while they're waving them under our noses."

Beatrice: "Are you suggesting that I let one of them take my virginity?"

Lizbeth: "Why not? They know what they're doing and won't muck it up like some guys do."

Beatrice: "But what about the man I marry?"

Lizbeth: "What about him? Odds are he won't know if you're a virgin anyway. Women have fooled their husbands for thousands of years in that regard."

Beatrice: "They have?"

Lizbeth: "Of course they have. You think I was a virgin on my wedding night?'

Beatrice: "No, you gave it up in the backseat of a Studebaker. You told me so."

Lizbeth: "That's right, I did. Well, it was long gone before the wedding."

Beatrice got up from the table and walked slowly toward the bathroom. "Beatrice, you seem to be walking with a bit of a limp."

Beatrice glared over her shoulder at her sister. Lizbeth cried out sympathetically, "Oh, you poor darling! Let me see it. They may have torn something. Are you bleeding back there? I have a salve that will help."

"Do you? Oh that would be wonderful! Especially if they come calling this evening."

Lizbeth giggled, "I think they might. You do want more of their love sticks don't you?'

"Love sticks ... that's a new one."

"Oh, there are so many names for their ... cocks and balls, Beatrice, so many..."

Beatrice began to unbutton her dress. Lizbeth quickly turned to Beatrice, "I'll be right back, darling."

By the time she returned, Beatrice had removed her clothing and draped herself face down over the back of a couch. Lizbeth knelt behind her, her hands running all over the welted skin of Beatrice s buttocks.

"Oh! Which of those dreadful men did this to you?"

"What? What it is it you see back there?"

"Why, I believe he may have drawn blood right here," Lizbeth said as her hand went in between Beatrice's legs, sliding into the wet and welcoming warmth of her pussy. Beatrice gasped in pleasure. "Yes, I feel some moisture, spread your legs further and let me see what this is."

Beatrice said nothing about Lizbeth's probing about the wrong hole and continued to play the game, spreading her legs further apart, feeling deliciously exposed in the bright sunshine that streamed in through the windows. Her eyes closed as Lizbeth's finger explored deeply into the wet lips between her legs.

Is this soothing, Beatrice?"

"Mmmm, it is ... very soothing."

"Your bottom is bright red and the butt hole is still open. It's usually closed up tighter than a clam by this time."

"Well, Lizbeth, I did pass some stool this morning," she said, trying to be helpful.

"Well that may explain it, but let me try something here," Lizbeth said, and then leaned in and began to sensuously lick the red marks on Beatrice's ass, leaving a trail of wetness behind which gleamed in the sunlight. Her hand continued to stimulate Beatrice's pussy which was now very wet from her juices.

By now, Beatrice was panting and unable to speak. Moments later, she came, crying out her pleasure with a series of grunts and groans.

"Feel better now?" Lizbeth inquired with a giggle and gave one last rub to the reddened cheek in front of her.

"Oh yes!" the younger sister replied.

"I see where one of them, probably Mr. Dennis, was a little rough with you back there. If you like, I can lick it some more. Would you like that?"

"Yes ... please do lick me there, Lizbeth."

Lizbeth didn't wait for the response, but was already combing through the damp curls of her sister's pubic hair with one hand while the other anchored Beatrice to the couch. She bent forward and Beatrice suddenly felt something soft and wet touch her rosebud. Lizbeth's tongue! Oh sweet Jesus, Lizbeth was licking her where she had just gone to the bathroom. Surely that could not be right.

Beatrice jerked convulsively, but was easily controlled by her older sister. "Don't move, there's a good girl," Lizbeth cooed.

"But ... you can't ... it's dirty there." Beatrice moaned somewhat incoherently. Despite her shock, she couldn't stop the waves of pleasure as Lizbeth's tongue intruded delicately into her sore rear passage. Indeed, all pain was miraculously gone!

Lizbeth knew enough to ignore her sister's protests and continued to tongue and lick her delightful asshole. She sucked gently, knowing from her own experience that it would cause a lovely turmoil in her intestines. Beatrice cried out immediately, all thought of protest forgotten. Lizbeth used her hands to hold her buttocks open so as to help her tongue reach its maximum depth in Beatrice's rectum. Moments later she sent a hand, or rather its fingers into Beatrice's pussy and helped usher a shower of juices over them as Beatrice came a second time.

Lizbeth withdrew both tongue and fingers from her sister's orifices and helped her into the shower to clean up and whispered, "You can return the favor later. I'll show you how."

When Beatrice stepped out of the shower in a terrycloth robe, Lizbeth deduced that she was not ready for anything more of a sexual nature that morning, and the abrupt return to a "normal" topic was calculated to reduce what had happened into a bizarre, perhaps even imaginary event in Beatrice's mind. Thus, Lizbeth could keep her from thinking too much about what had just happened. She was right. After a dazed look at her sister, Beatrice took up a palette and brush without further comment.

The morning was spent in desultory conversation and idle painting of still life. By lunchtime, Beatrice had almost convinced herself that none of it had happened, so removed did it seem from the current behavior of her and her sister. They ate lunch together and then took a walk about the grounds. Beatrice was feeling decidedly tired and retired for a nap until two hours before the men were expected to pick them up for dinner.

Postscript:

Let it be known that I, Roy Shannon, took sole possession of Beatrice's virginity on October 6th, 1947.

Lizbeth's husband returned to the States several months later. It took them about a year to determine that they were no longer compatible as man and wife. They divorced six months later.

I married Beatrice but shared our house with Lizbeth and her son Dennis and my daughters Ann and Elizabeth.

The older Dennis took his leave following our sojourn to New York for the Series. He calls occasionally, but has not stopped to pay us a visit. The girls miss him, I don't. Maybe I'm jealous, and maybe not. I'm happy with things the way they are. The girls too--I hope.