1. Thawing Miss Pentland


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, First Time, Male/Female, Masturbation, Romance, Author: abroadsword, Rating: 89.8, Source: sexstories.com

    It was the summer of 1899. The sun streamed through the drawing room windows, the perfectly mown lawns stretched down to the lake. The birds sang, everything was perfection. But the summer was ending and my daughter Auguste was sixteen and about to go to Switzerland to finish her education. This left her governess Miss Pentland with no remaining purpose at Corston Hall and I faced the awkward task of discussing her future with her. Charity Jayne Pentland. As cold as the wind swept firth with which she shared a name. Cold and grey though able enough as a governess. An expert player of whist. An opponent to fear at chess but as prim and proper as only a governess can be. I could not tell you the colour of her eyes or hair, I cared not, but I never knew her to wear anything colourful and her wardrobe seemed to range only from black to white through grey. Clarissa my dear wife had departed some ten years hence. Departed with one Colonel Pickering of the Dragoons you understand, not departed this mortal coil. That I could have borne. But no, not satisfied with cuckolding me Pickering had whisked her away to some fornicatorium beside the sea. Miss Pentland came highly recommended, her father was a man of the cloth, she had studied diligantly and would have been an able scholar had she been a male, but had perforce to earn a living and so came to me aged eighteen to care for my poor distraught six year old Auguste and her older brothers Robert and Charles. But now her usefulness ...
    was at an end. I did not relish the interview. She had to go. A young woman in a house with a gentleman such as myself not quite in his dotage you understand. Still lusty enough to make a whore or serving wench shriek on occasion, if I say it myself. I came home early. Auguste was visiting Miss Millicent Millard-Price her best friend for the weekend and I was troubled at the prospect of sending Miss Pentland away. I had arranged to meet her in the drawing room at seven. It was barely five. I went to my bedroom. It was still as it had been when Clarissa left. Facing south over the park. Our marital bed. The oak dressing table still strewn with Carissa’s things. She had taken only the clothes she stood up in and I had retained everything on her side of the room exactly as she had left it. I opened the door and stepped inside. Someone was there. Wearing a white wedding dress. Clarissa’s white wedding dress. For a moment I thought it was Clarissa returned. But no. It was Miss Pentland who sat at Clarissa’s dressing table wearing Clarissa’s wedding dress. Her shimmering virginal white wedding dress. Miss Pentland stared wide eyed. “Excuse me,” I said as I went to withdraw. But the look of shock and horror on Miss Pentland’s face made me pause. She wore the wedding dress and naught beside. Her dress was over the chair. And her under things. She had Clarissa’s ivory and ebony hairbrush. I stared mesmerised. She had the hairbrush between her thighs. I could see the head but not the ...
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