Rogeringham

It had not really struck home, but it did as we talked. All of them were now of marriageable age, and they were all attractive young women, so why in God's name were none of them fighting off suitors with big sticks? I couldn't fathom it. Hermione had her young man to come calling, which reminded me that we were due to meet tomorrow, but where were the others?

If my sisters had been anywhere near Wellesley's army, I reflected, they would have been very hot property indeed. They would also have been much more worldly wise. For a moment I day-dreamed about Charlotte, my eldest step-sister. Of all of my sisters, she is the one who looks like me the most. She has the same dark hair and complexion, and she has brown eyes like I do. She is a handsome woman, and when she sat next to me, I fleetingly wondered how she would be in bed, but even as I had that thought, I dismissed it, and concentrated on the questions I was being asked.

The third thing I learnt - watching them, remembering their habits and then observing how grown they now were - was how very much I still loved them all. I did not consider them to be my "step-sisters", nor were they my "half-sisters", though I may occasionally refer to them as such; I had the very same affection for each and every one of them as if we had all sprung from the very same womb. They were my sisters, and I, in turn, was their brother.

Up until when I went to school, we were always close, and we rattled around in Rogeringham Hall like peas in a drum. It was a fine place for a child to grow up, if we managed to evade our tutor or our nanny, there were places to hide, and explore, places to watch from and, if we managed to get out of the house, acres and acres of parkland to explore and roam.

In our games, I often found myself in the hero's part, the rescuer, or the knight, due to being the eldest and being male. It was a role put upon me from an early age. Not that the girls were shrinking violets in anyway, they matched my mischief blow for blow, but if we started to play out an adventure I was expected to lead. That also meant that if our adventures went awry however, inevitably it was I that took the blame. Either it was found to be 'my fault' (which to be honest normally, it was) or it was because I 'should have set an example', or because I stepped up to take the blame to save one of my sisters from punishment. Even that had its rewards, as the girls would comfort me - even little Hermione would smuggle food to me if I was being punished. (No one ever suspected her of doing this because of her complete and impenetrable air of innocence).

We never seemed to fall out for long. If harsh words were said, as children do occasionally, one of us, - usually Caroline - would act as an emissary between the injured parties and apologies generally followed soon after.

Even though I was torn from this demi-paradise with school and later college, my return to Rogeringham, and later to the Mayfair house, was always warm and welcoming, not just Helena, but all of my sisters wanted to know what had happened since I had last seen them, much like now.

And so, with 'catching up' the afternoon passed, and we got ready for supper.

4. Helena

I decided upon an early night and went to resume my reading in my chamber. Barclay had laid out my night clothes and rum, so I enjoyed the peace and quiet.

I had been reading for no more than a half of an hour, when I heard my mother pass by on her way to her own bedroom.

I had not yet changed for bed, so after a short while, I made my way to her room, ostensibly to wish her good night.

Once again Helena sat in her chair with her favourite dressing gown covering her charms.

We talked for a few minutes and then she said. "I am curious William. The first night of your return, you told me of your desire for me, but then dismissed me. The next night, you treated me like a queen, even serenading me but then you made no move towards me, except to kiss me in an un-familial manner. I am afraid I do not understand your plan."

Sitting on a foot-stool at her side, holding her hands in mine, stroking them and noting little sign of resistance to my touch. I told Helena, "It is quite simple, mother, I have declared my passion for you and the desire that accompanies it. I mean to make you mine but I would prefer that the choice to accept my worship and my love, is yours and yours alone. I shall not forcefully replace my father in your heart, instead, you will come to me of your own accord."

Helena looked at me. "Ah!" She smiled, a knowing smile.

After a few moments she went on, "In that case, I have given much thought to your plan. In fact, I have thought about nothing else over the last few days."

"And?" I asked.

"It is true, I do love you and admire you. And I can see that there are advantages to such a relationship, however wrong it might be, but I have demands ..."

At that point I knew I had her. I kept my face still, hiding my exultation. "They will not go unfulfilled mother, whatever they are."

My mother held her hand up to silence me, with a slight smile. "I have no doubt," she said.

"Your father," Helena continued, "As you know, was some twenty years older than me. It is the way of our society, that a woman often has no say in who she weds, especially when the man who takes her hand is rich and powerful. Women in these circumstances are propelled into a strange world. Often, they are alone - apart from their husband, with no friend, no peer, because the disparity between his and her ages means that willing as she might be, she has no connection with her husband's friends and acquaintances.

"Thus, it was for me. Your father took an eighteen-year-old girl and made her a woman. I gave him children, though not the ones he wanted. For him it was about more sons, and, instead, he received more daughters.

"Oh, he tried, but after Hermione he lost interest, in them and me. He threw himself into his ventures and while his fortune increased, his interest in his family waned to the point where he seemed like he wanted nothing further to do with us. You never lacked for anything - but he was never a doting father, your sisters became my sole responsibility, he would not consort with us though he retained a tight control of their futures. Your sisters lack husbands because your father denied me the ability to prepare them for and present them at court during the 'Season'."

The Season is the social frenzy that runs from March to July when girls come 'out' into society and having come out, they frantically begin the search for husbands.

Helena went on, "He also denied them their dowries. We lacked for nothing materially, but he kept us almost like he kept his wealth. It would be fair to say that he hoarded us, like we were part of his estate."

She stood up and opened her dressing gown, exposing her nakedness. Her body was everything I imagined it would be. Her fair, fashionably pale skin shone bright in the dimly lit room, the light from the fire flickering across her exposed flesh. Her breasts sat firm and full upon her chest with large nipples, that even in the warmth from the fire stood proud and her belly, despite her children, was flat and led the eye to the downy mound, in the shadows between her thighs.

"William, I shall give you everything you want - myself, in your bed, with all of my love, willingly ..."

"If...?" I asked as I stood.

"You undertake to see that your sisters all have their dowries settled and assist them in making good matches next year."

I took her in my arms, wrapping her in my embrace. She kissed me gently, not yet a lover's kiss but full enough in the lips that once again, it went beyond the boundaries of that of a mother and son.

"I swear it shall be so." I told her.

Helena drew her head back and looked at me, her eyes shining. "In that case ..."

She drew me back towards her bed, undoing my waistcoat as she did so. Her hands were gentle but persistent, exploring.

I laid her down upon her covers and kissed her deeply, my hands sliding across her skin, her stunning nakedness.

Then I stood up, re-adjusting my waistcoat.

"No mother." I said with a smile, as I backed away. "I said that you would come to my bed. Until then ..."

I walked back to my room and undressed. Without donning my night attire, I climbed into my bed, wondering how long she would wait. Barely had that thought formed in my mind than there was a soft knock on my door.

"Come in!"

Her open robe framed her nudity, as she strode across the gap between the door and my bed. "You are a harsh master!" She said, with an amused smile, as she paused and posed with a bob of a curtsey before me, opening her arms with a flourish. "I present myself."

I threw the bed sheet down, the room was well warmed by the fire in the grate, and moved myself over across the width of the bed. Helena discarded her dressing gown and climbed in next to me, still with a little half-smile. "Is this what you want?" She asked.

"More than you would ever believe," I told her. "And you? Is it truly your wish to be here?" I reached for her hand and began by gently caressing it.

My step-mother looked down for a moment as she considered my question. "Yes." She said at last. "Yes, it is.

"When you first told me of your desires, I was stunned," she said. "Stunned, and shocked that you would propose such a thing." I was, by now kissing her finger tips.

"I mean, yes, my beautiful boy grew to be a man, and such a fine handsome man. But despite the loveless marriage that mine had become, I never thought of a dalliance as many other women do, certainly not one between the two of us. But when you came to me and told me what you intended, well, it occurred to me as you said, that the difference between our ages is less than that between me and your father when I first came to him, and you are correct, it counts even less considering that we are both grown."

I nodded. "And there is no blood between us." I reminded her.

"Some might still raise it as an impediment..." she suggested.

"Damn them to hell!" I told her. I placed my arm around her shoulders and drew her to me, at last feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, the softness of her breast as it touched mine. "The commons think nothing of this sort of thing. There was one woman who followed my regiment that was married to one of two brothers. When one was killed, she took up with the other immediately we reformed after the fight.

"And even should we not marry it would not be considered ill, that you still live in my house. You are my father's widow after all, Lady Rogeringham!" I laughed, "And I swear I will be more of a husband to you than my father ever was." And at that point I leaned in and kissed her.

As we kissed, I pressed my tongue towards her lips.

"What are you doing?" Helena drew back, a puzzled smile on her face.

"They call it kissing, mother," I told her.

"I know what it is!" She laughed, "But your tongue ..."

"Ah!" I smiled, "That is called French kissing ... allow me. Relax."

My step-mother is an astute woman, she followed my example and returned my exploration, like for like. Soon our tongues tangled sensually, as we explored each other's mouth, and passionately too. Helena's hands roamed across my body as mine did hers. I touched for the first time, the soft swell of her bared breasts, the prominent stud of her nipple against my palm. I roamed my other hand across her back and down to the globes of her bottom, those sweetly rounded cheeks.

She on the other hand, found what she sought between my thighs. And that discovery brought a look of delight and also a little concern to her face.

"Oh William!" She exclaimed. "Oh!"

"Is something amiss?" I wasn't overly concerned, my parts are not massive, but they have brought a smile of contentment to women's faces, so I know that they are adequate.

"No," she said hurriedly, smiling, but then her face fell. "And yes."

I waited. "You are much better equipped than your father was, very much so. But it is so long since I last laid with him, I fear I shall be too tight for this weapon of yours."

It was my turn to smile. And smile I did, as I kissed her mouth, and then each coral-coloured nipple, her pale stomach, until sliding down the bed I laid face to face with my prize.

Helena's jewel, the fortress I had set out to conquer, laid before me as if I was over-looking its defences, ready to carry them by assault. And what a prize it was.

Red lips blossomed at the base of her mound, swelling - even as I watched - ready for me. She had dabbed herself behind each ear with a drop of eau de cologne, but even with that sweet scent I could smell her arousal, sweet, sharp and musky waiting before me.

"William! William, what are you doing?" My mother asked as I lowered my head, and began to press my tongue between her lips.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh heavens!" Her hands played about the sides of my head, at the same time trying to push me away and then to pull me forwards, into her.

I had learned how to stimulate a woman by cunnilingus under the tutelage of Lady Emma Garstang, a domineering woman, who demanded her bed fellows do as they were told. I played her games and was taught much in the process. Cunnilingus, or gamahuching, was one of the many lessons that I learnt, and learnt well, and in my head, I offered a prayer of thanks to Lady Garstang for teaching me.

Helena was breathless as I licked deeper and deeper, passing my tongue up and down the length of her quim. "Oh!" She panted, "William. Oh! OOOOH!"

I pressed my tongue against her little clitoris, which had emerged, flicking the bean-like organ. Again, and again, I attacked it, rapidly lashing it with my tongue, before tugging it gently between my lips.

"Williaaaammmmmmoh! Oh! Oh! Oh!!" The onset of her orgasm startled my mother with its swiftness and, I assume, its intensity, as she thrashed about the bed. Her hands grasped great folds of the bed sheets in her passion and her head lolled from side to side. But most importantly of all, I felt the juices from her cunny flood my mouth, as her body shook and quivered.

Not hesitating - I was eager to at last consummate my years of desire, I slid up and into her. She was tight, tighter than some virgins I have known, so rather than a full-blown assault, my progress was more measured, and considered as I entered her. I sought accommodation, hers and mine, as I felt her hips shift beneath me, saw the look of concern on her face turn joyful as I sank deeper and deeper inside her.

"Oh Lord!" She said quietly, but with passion, "I am so full."

"And I am not yet fully seated, mother." I told her, before pressing home and doing just that, pressing myself so that my dark pubes tangled with her lighter ones.

She reached up and hugged me to her, forcing her beautiful breasts against my chest. "Sweet Lord Jesus!" She gasped.

"Oh, my dear mother!" I laughed as I lay on top of her, "We must work on your vulgarities! I cannot see us enjoying nights of carnal passion, if you constantly call upon the Lord Jesus. What would the vicar say?"

She looked at me, with an amused annoyance, "I am a lady of a certain station, the widow of a duke and mother to his successor. I do not have the vocabulary of a street harlot."

Then she smiled sheepishly, looking completely adorable, "I do the best I can. If you want otherwise - you must teach me else."

"Forgive me, I was making a jest," I said as I kissed her, "I would not change you for the world."

"Perhaps I am too old to change," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Now, take that magnificent hard cock of yours and fuck your mother, else it will be dawn and the servants stirring before we're done."

"Yes mother." I said and began to fuck her.

It was plain that Helena was much out of practice, but thankfully fucking is one of those skills that once learnt, returns swiftly to a person, and soon she had raised her legs and wrapped them around my back. Her hands clasped me to her, her fingernails raking my skin as her passion stirred again and again.

Several times she cried out quite loudly, once she even called on God and His Little Angels, and by this sign I knew that I was doing what I set out to do, making my mother my own.

I rolled on my back, not because my side was hurting - it did slightly, but it was quite bearable - no, I wanted to watch Helena, my mother, on top. I wanted to watch those jouncing bubbies bounce up and down, see those wondrous nipples bobbing before my eyes and then lift those same eyes to see the face of the woman I have loved for so many years. And I was rewarded in that, as I saw her face contort with passion as she caught her lower lip with her teeth, as yet again her spend drenched my cock and balls.

That brought me to my own cum. When I felt it stirring in my loins, I rolled us once again and took the final possession of my mother, shooting my seed deep inside her with a heartfelt groan of relief and pleasure.

Content that we had both come off, I rolled to the side, my cock slipping from her cunny, and lying limp on my thigh. We were both panting with pleasure, from release and passion.

Suddenly Helena threw herself upon me, hugging me and covering my face in her kisses. Naturally I was unrestrained in kissing her back, but I was curious. Helena had come willingly to my bed, or so she said, but I was expecting some reservation at least. This new burst of passion was wilful and intense.

After a short time, it subsided and my mother laid back. I raised myself on my elbow and looked down at her. Her face, post-passion, was stunning, serene almost. The idealised image that I had carried in my mind of her through my school days, through my teenage years and on to manhood and into the army, was plain compared to the glorious picture before me. Lying next to me was a goddess who walked amongst us, a being of beauty and passion.

And then she smiled up at me.

"Well?" She asked, "Was I worth the wait?"

"Every single day of it and more," I told her. "I cannot imagine my life being any more complete."

"You have a smooth tongue on you, William, and you did not get it from your father." She kissed me gently on the mouth. Then she pulled back, a shy smile on her face, "Talking of tongues," she said.

"Yes?"

"That thing you did before," she lowered her eyes.

I slid my fingers across the slick, gooey lips of her quim. "Down here?" I said as I teased her clitoris.

"Yes!" She moaned, arching her back up on the bed. "Oh God!"

"What about it?" I asked as I lowered my head and kissed her nipples.

"A moment please?" Helena, begged me as her breathing returned to normal.

I kissed her belly, pale in the lamp light.

"Was it ... this thing?" I asked softly kissing the dampened curls of her pretty quim.

"Oh my!" She gasped. "Yes!"

"What was it you wanted?" I returned to kissing her mons and thighs, anywhere but her ready, quivering pussy.

"Do it again?" She begged. "Please, William, do it again?" Her need was urgent.

"This?" I asked, as if I was surprised at her request.

"Yes!" her voice was a desperate squeak. "I have never felt anything like it, do it again, I beg you."

"At your command, my love."

I laid about her quim with a will. I actually enjoy cunnilingus and I have practised to be good at it. There is nothing more important in bed than the satisfaction of both partners, and with it being my mother, I wanted her satisfaction more than anything.

I felt Helena's hands on my head again, and let her guide me, thus achieving my aim - her pleasure. But soon her hands lay limp on my head as she fell back on the bedsheets, enjoying the attentions of my tongue. At this point, I reached my hands under her thighs and lifted her legs up, raising my mother's hips so that I could explore her more fully.