Being a Girl by Chloë Thurlow Read Free Book Online Page A

panties and wriggled them delicately down her legs. The Laird held out his hand, and the triangle of cotton looked like the head of an orchid stretched across his palm. He gave her warm knickers to Byron, who again gazed lewdly in the gusset before running the fabric under his nose. The Laird watched impatiently.
    â€˜Well?’ he asked.
    â€˜Ripe, I’d say, Hamish.’
    The Laird nodded sagely before turning to Binky. ‘You’re a good girl,’ he said, and glanced back at me.
    He made me feel as if I were the bad girl. He had blamed me for breaking the padlock, for soiling hisfresh hay. I was utterly exposed, humiliated. I was shaking, my breasts hurt, and I know hindsight is all very well, but I had known when I had taken that first sip of buck’s fizz at the King’s Head that Binky was going to get me into trouble.
    â€˜Now, what do you think of this, Byron McBride? Has a more pretty sight ever crossed those wretched eyeballs of yours?’
    â€˜Not in this lifetime, Hamish. It’s a rare and lovely sight, a rare and lovely sight indeed.’
    â€˜Aye, and what are we going to do to punish these defiant Jezebels?’
    â€˜It’s not for me to say. It’s for me to obey.’
    â€˜Ah, it must be the muse that’s brought the poetry out in you, laddie.’
    They were gazing at us in wonder. At our pert breasts and lush pussies, our tiny waists and thin shoulders. I suppose we had never looked better and there was some youthful arrogance in the way I kept my back straight, my chin high. There was fear in me, shame, too, but also a weird inexplicable excitement.
    I glanced towards the uncurtained windows, as if someone might be passing, not that anyone would ever pass that house. The sky was black. The storm had moved on and a sprinkling of stars had come out. Orange flames floated across the grate like dancers and the Laird’s blue eyes were the eyes of a serpent, drawing me back, holding me in their power. I was naked, utterly exposed, my breasts tingling, my tummy filled with butterflies. My breath came in hot rushes and I realised I was panting.
    Binky was staring at me. The Laird took her hand, directing it to the base of my spine. Our hips crossed, locking together, and I turned nervously as she began to stroke the soft flesh of my bottom, over the slopinghill to the undercurve and back again, her caress warming the moisture inside me, and I felt a dampness like dew on the lips of my vagina. The beautiful woman in the painting above the fire was staring down with a knowing expression, her dark eyes full of sadness and secrets.
    In the darkness the two men had become shadows. It felt as if we were alone, two naked girls discovering something that had been hidden, our bodies drawn naturally, subconsciously together. Our breasts touched and my nipples burned like the fire in the grate. Binky’s eyes flickered and closed. She had thrown back her head, presenting her long neck, which I kissed, softly biting the ivory skin, her hand on my bottom running up my back to the nape of my neck.
    I circled her waist. I ran my tongue over her neck, her chin, into her mouth, her plump lips sucking at my lips, and I thought back to that first fleeting peck as we’d entered the barn. I had never kissed my sister before and it was exquisite, her soft tongue circling my tongue, our engorged lips sliding into new positions, pushing greedily as if we were devouring some rare gorgeous feast.
    Our pubic mounts were touching and we swivelled our hips, grinding the bones together. I ran my hand over Binky’s back. I had never appreciated how slight and fragile she was, her narrow waist widening over slender hips, her spine that I now traversed, up over the well-defined little nubs and down to the hollows in the small of her back. Her thin body relaxed as if it were a bowstring too tightly wound. Her bottom was soft, round, springy, and I felt a syrupy ooze between her