never hold still for it," I answered. "Better wait till he quiets down."
Serge was spouting some rhetoric about how badly he was wounded, but how he would give his life for "lovely Martha." He flung his arms about as he shouted, spattering blood on the walls.
At last he wandered into the kitchen, tripped over the ironing board, and fell on the floor beside the dishwasher. I seized the opportunity and with one flying leap landed on his chest, where I sat firmly.
"Yes, Serge," I said, as I seized the injured hand and held it aloft for Helen to bandage, "you certainly are very brave. No one
April Continued
could ask for more. But you must rest. Lovely Martha is crying to see how you've worn yourself out."
Martha made a grimace and studied her dirty sponge.
"You must rest, Serge," I continued, while Helen cut adhesive tape efficiently, "because tomorrow. . . " but he was by then snoring on the floor.
Martha contemplated him coldly for a moment, then stepped over him and rinsed out her sponge at the kitchen sink.
I got off him gingerly, a little disappointed that my performance had been so abruptly curtailed. I felt tired.
Helen pour four cognacs thoughtfully. "Well," she said, "well, well, well. I'm certainly glad he didn't hurt himself."
Tomi wasn't in the living room. I took my cognac in one hand and hers in the other and went off in search of her.
She wasn't in her room either, but as I started back down the hall I heard low but unmistakably amorous sounds coming from William's room. I put my ear to the door.
"Slow now, ohhh, slow, Sweet William, yes, like that. . . Oh, god."
Tomi had no doubt gone in search of her upset brother and was even now restoring his composure of mind. I wondered if she had managed to lure him out from under the bed, or if they were at that very moment sandwiched between floor and bedspring.
Overcoming a momentary scruple, I put my eye to the keyhole.
Tomi was lying flat on her back, her feet planted firmly on the rug, her buttocks slightly raised, her knees wide apart so as to spring the opening between her legs. William had raised himself slightly on his arms and was working away earnestly, a frown of concentration steadily creasing his forehead. He looked like an overgrown and perturbed kewpie doll. As I watched, his movements became short and jerky, his habitually sleepy eyes opened wide as if with shock, and he came in a series of harsh, spastic thrusts.
Tomi almost literally melted into the rug, moaning in that deep tone I knew so well, which she tried ineffectually to choke off for fear of being overheard, while her hands clawed at the olive-drab wall-to-wall carpet. Then her eyes rolled up, her back arched off the carpet, a sound like a growl escaped her; she shuddered and lay still.
April Continued
I drank her cognac and then my own. I could hear Martha and Helen chattering away in the living room. Then I heard Tomi's voice saying, "You dumb little freak!" and bent to take another look at the Elizabethan drama which was playing itself out in proper Darien.
Sweet William had his sister by the ankles, and as I looked he pulled her, face downwards, toward him across the rug, spreading her legs on either side of his as he did so, and forcing his short, thick cock into her asshole. He held her pinned by the shoulders while she ground her face against the rug to keep from screaming with pain.
The muscles in his skinny arms stood out like cords as he held her pinned to the floor, pumping savagely and soundlessly, with a kind of grim determination while she writhed in agony. His orgasm was mercifully as quick as it was violent. He lay against her briefly, then stood up, leaving her lying on the rug.
I could hear the creak of the bed as he sat down on it, could hear him say, "I am a freak. That's what it's all about. Three years we've been doing it your way." (Three years! I thought. William was just fifteen last month.) "I never fucked you in the ass before, but that's what I