Tales Told out of School. 9: A Fell-top Miss-Adventure.

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What happened this morning?

Peter started with what he knew.

“I heard you and Sheila talking together very early this morning, arguing. Was that when you decided together, that you would take her place with me for the morning hours before it became light?”

Brenda nodded and tried to explain, wondering how he was not castigating her after discovering the difficult deception she had been party to in her desperation.

“Yes, Peter. Sheila told me how I must approach you so that you would not detect any difference between us, with us being so similar in all of the important ways, as you yourself pointed out to us when you met us at the hairdresser's yesterday.

“I think that was what started this thought in her head, that it should happen, and that it would work.”

He would ask, ‘why?’, later.

“You are both very beautiful and mature women. You are indistinguishable most of the time; the same firm breasts (he was still holding them so knew that for himself), delicate facial features’—he leaned in and touched her cheeks with his nose as he breathed on her—“the same soft skin, grey eyes, even the same hair.

“Your gestures and your way of expressing yourselves are even the same. You blush the same way, and in the same places.” He leaned forward and kissed each of her breasts as he slid that fabric farther off her shoulders, feeling her move forward into him, trembling, and her breath catch in her throat as he did that.

“How did Sheila tell you to approach me?”

Brenda’s mind began to settle down from that latest of several shocks.

“She was firm with me and wouldn’t accept any argument about the wisdom of doing this; changing places with her, not accepting any reservations I had about going forward with this. ‘Mother,’ she said, “you must be decisive and aggressive. We both need this to happen.’.”

“You were both decisive and aggressive.” He continued to kiss her, and her breasts as he held them, never wanting to let them go. “Delightfully so. I had no way of knowing you were not Sheila.”

Brenda’s hands moved to his shoulders, feeling more confident that he would not storm off, and out of all of their lives. He was turning out to be as Sheila had described him. She should have known.

“I was sure it would be discovered at the very first. I told her it would be. And you did discover it”…as his approaching her the way he had approached her this morning, showed.

She sobbed. “Oh, what I would give to go back and do the sensible thing and refuse her as I should have done and avoided this trouble.”

He caressed her face and kissed her again as he comforted her as a lover would, speaking only softly to her.

“I’m glad you didn’t refuse her, Brenda, my love.” She stopped breathing, hearing him call her that. “And I doubt that there will be any ‘trouble’, as you say, come from this if we continue to keep it a secret. I do not plan on saying anything to anyone, not even to Sheila. Do you?” She shook her head.

“Good. I am also pleased and relieved that this happened this way, bringing everything out into the open between us as quickly as it did, so that we can talk about it.”

He put his hands on her knees and applied only the lightest pressure between them, feeling them move slowly apart under his continuing touch as he looked up into her face, pleading wordlessly with her, as he no doubt had done with Sheila, then kissed her breasts again, then her, as he moved closer to her.

She tried not to notice or to object to what he was doing, as she knew she should. This was not what should be happening now. He belonged to Sheila, her daughter, but she couldn’t help herself; couldn’t resist him. She was already as in love with him, as her daughter was after last night, and he had admitted his love for her, and it was real.

He took her hands and moved them to undo the buttons on his shirt, helping her, showing her what to do, as he moved her nightdress farther up her legs.

He knew his ears were on fire, along with other of his senses, and another item that had come to life even as he came downstairs and saw Brenda sitting in the kitchen. He knew it hadn't been Sheila sitting there. Sheila had told him that she would be taking the car.

She took her mind off what he was doing to her, and what she was doing for him by talking. But talking, only when he stopped kissing her for long enough, smiling kindly at her the entire time, steadily driving them both into emotional insanity.

She was becoming breathless, blushing uncontrollably, knowing what he intended for her again. And thank goodness for that.

“I fear…," she chuckled nervously, "I was more aggressive than… I dared to believe possible, Peter. I surprised even myself, but I knew that I could not let you see any difference from the way Sheila would approach you, so I did exactly as she said I must do that first time, it was only after that that, that you took over, as Sheila assured me you would.”

He kept kissing her everywhere he could reach, interrupting his speech flow each time, and disrupting her thought processes that kept telling her that she should not be letting this happen to her. She quieted those thoughts.

“You were exactly… as you should have been, Brenda… to not alert me to any difference. You were magnificent… delightfully so… and what happened between us… was making love, nothing less than that. I think you know that.”

She nodded, blushing uncontrollably as he continued doing what he was doing all over her.

“It was… for me too, Peter. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way, but it did.” She sobbed again, pushing her breasts into his face as he kissed and held them, before he moved back to touching her legs again and moving her nightdress ever higher on them.

She was breathless. “Oh, what must… you think of me? Of us, after that? And this too?"

She sighed, and a few tears escaped from her eyes to trickle down her cheek. Were they tears of joy, of happiness, or of guilt?

He leaned in and kissed them all away. They were salty. He would soon give her some of that saltiness back to her in another receptive part of her body as they exchanged even more fluids than just through kissing each other.

“What I think, my love, is that I am in love with two of the most beautiful women in the world, mother and daughter, and I can scarce believe it myself. Nor am I sure how I can go on hiding this wonderful secret, while continuing to make love to both of you, which I want also to continue. With us all living here together, it will not be too difficult to hide from society." For a while anyway. Until she became pregnant, or his own sisters began to wonder about so many co-incidences, and how Sheila and her mother looked so much alike, and how both seemed to be so deliriously happy all of the time with Peter around them. Or how dare Peter touch her so familiarly? His sisters had no place here in his thoughts. By the time they came up to visit him and Sheila, it would all be settled down and well hidden. Until the fruits of their labor would no longer be hidden...!

“Men would kill to be so privileged; having two such women in their life. Loving them both. Making love to them both.”

She hadn’t expected to hear him admit that he had fallen in love with both of them, but considering that it had really happened, and what he seemed to intend would continue between them, it was so much better than any alternative.

He continued to listen, and to move closer to her, still kissing her as she talked, still moving her nightdress farther up her legs; smooth legs that went on and on without end until they reached the promised land… unprotected from invasion by anything upon her covering her there, just as she had been on the previous morning when he had seen her sitting at the table watching him and Sheila fornicating their way across the landscape.

He had to close his eyes for a few moments and try to slow himself down, seeing the same delicate female foliage on the mother as on the daughter, framing her most interesting little garden that he would love to stroll in, and then to move between those slight ridges on either side of her vulva, and plow gently into that fertile and eager ground between them, waiting expectantly for him to dig deeply into her.

“You weren’t… supposed to find out what we did, Peter, changing places like that. I was worried that you would see and feel an immediate difference, but Sheila insisted we do it anyway. I argued against it, feeling sure that you would know, and decide to have nothing to do with either of us after that for our unarguable moral failings and desert Sheila, but she was sure that you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't desert anyone. Not now. I am in love, remember?"

"But, Peter. No one… in their right mind… would do what we did, are doing, and expect to get away with it. It is not condoned or accepted.”

Peter moved her legs fully apart and moved higher on his knees to allow her to undo his shorts, as he guided her to do that, helping her as she moved herself forward on that seat toward him, opening herself up better to invasion, which she ached to have happen to her.

“I could not bear the thought of bringing Sheila’s one good chance at love and happiness to an end just to satisfy some selfish goal of an old woman, but Sheila can be very persuasive. She told me that if I did not do as she asked, and become pregnant, or at least keep trying, then she would become pregnant instead.

“I couldn’t let her make that sacrifice, so I agreed, reluctantly.”

He touched her by her face. “You are not an old woman, Brenda, but young, and very much alive as I soon found out. You are mature; in your prime, and so very beautiful. So, do you regret us doing it? You shouldn’t. And we will keep trying.”

He was completely at ease with all of this, just as he had been last night. But he had also been unflappable in that second meeting with Brenda in the kitchen not even ten minutes after she’d come home, and just after making love to Sheila. He had not been fucking her, but making love to her just as he had been with her last night and would be doing again, soon.

Had he been a lesser man, he should and would have been ashamed or embarrassed, but neither he nor Sheila had been that way. Then, as a lover, and as she found out for herself; he was eager, unstoppable, relentless, always coming back for more. Was this what love dictated? Yes, it did.

He did not seem to be offended by her shocking admission of having given in to Sheila, under threat of Sheila becoming pregnant herself if her mother didn’t agree to it.

“Do I regret any of it, Peter? Never. Not now that you know what we did, and that you do not seem to be too annoyed with our deception.” She did not fully understand that.

“I am not annoyed or angry at all, Brenda; my beautiful, courageous lover. You are both, completely forgiven. I am grateful to the both of you. I told you, I am in love with both of you, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health; but we should not run ahead of ourselves just yet.” Another delightful thought was playing around in his brain after saying that.

“Then I shall regret none of it, either, Peter. Not at all. Never in a thousand years!”

He smiled at her sudden protestation as they paused and kissed, having gained a much better understanding of each other and where this could now go.

“That’s the spirit!”

She progressed, unfastening the top button to his shorts, well-aware of what lurked behind there that he wanted her to discover again; that she also needed desperately to find out more about, after making his acquaintance intimate personal earlier this morning.

She now had a lot to say in her nervousness, her fingers turning to thumbs, and he let her talk without him interrupting her, although her nervousness seemed to be fast disappearing and was being replaced by confident determination, moistening her lips, ready for his next kisses which would lead on to a different, but eagerly anticipated conclusion.

“You brought me to life again, Peter; gave me hope. Being with you, feeling you loving me, making love to me as you did, met all of my needs, and filled in the emptiness in my life up to this moment; giving me promise of something better. I think I have awakened to life again and am now truly living it once more. I am afraid that I will soon wake up, and that it will stop.”

“If it is up to us, Brenda, and I think it is, then it won’t stop, my love, unless you insist that it stops. But you shouldn't do that. we both need this and I don’t want it to stop. I would like to make love to both of you from here forward, and for the rest of my life, and damn the questionable morality. Society is always decades behind what people need and want.”

She held his face in both of her hands and kissed him again.

“I don’t want it to stop either, Peter.”

“Then it won’t stop.” He was sure of that.

She looked at him. He was still smiling at her, and he had forgiven them.

There was something she needed to know, before they gave in to the mood sweeping over them both.

“Peter. If, as you say, Sheila and I are so alike in every way, how did you know I was not Sheila?”

“I will show you." He seemed to be wrestling with a small problem. "But from which direction, above or below?”

He rapidly played, in his head, one of those children's games as he decided: 'eenie, meenie, minie, mo...'

"Below, it is." He slid his hands and her nightdress farther along her legs to rest on her hips, pausing only to lean in and pull the top of her nightdress farther away from her with his teeth, before kissing her on her breasts again, and even to nuzzle below them as her nightdress slid easily down her arms inside her robe.

She felt as though she would go mad with the suspense if this wondrous torment continued for much longer.

She returned to undoing more of his shorts, feeling insistent pressure behind there.

“I honestly didn’t know, Brenda. Not for some time, even after what Sheila and I..." He stopped himself there before he admitted too much. "I accepted what I wanted to believe. After the third time of making love to you, I noticed a small skin tag on your back, very low on your hip behind you.”

With her help as she raised her body, he pushed her nightdress from under her where she had been sitting on it, raising it on her, seeing, confirming with some jubilation what he already knew from what he had sensed, seen and touched, that she had nothing covering her there.

They were not so far off now doing what they both ached to do.

“Here.” He placed his hands behind her as he touched her back. Her nightdress was now resting on his forearms, exposing all of her. “Here.” He touched again. “A skin tag. Sheila doesn’t have one.”

His mind went back to their overnight escapade, eager to repeat it all.

“Why did both of you feel that it was necessary to do what you did, without telling me?” He kissed her breasts again and moved one hand to caress her between her legs in that hair, now that he had made that other discovery about her.

Surely, he could guess why. She waited, blushing at the way he was looking at her.

He caught on fast.

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