An Angel In Glenwood Ch 02

Author's Note:

I realized that I luckily wrote in Part 1 that Belinda had two younger sisters, so here's the story of the next daughter. Jane will also have her fun in a third part!

Fiona, middle daughter of the Chamberlain family, was having a hard time sleeping. In fact, for the past year, ever since her older sister Belinda had married Henry Carter, the local curate, she had been having trouble sleeping.

The crux of the problem was that Mr. Brewer was still the rector of Glenwood, and thus occupied the rectory with his wife and family. Henry had been renting rooms in the village, but after the wedding, he had taken up residence at the Chamberlains' very large manor house, sharing quarters with his new wife in the east wing.

Unfortunately, Fiona also slept in the east wing. Her bedchamber was right next to that of the young couple, and the walls were lamentably thin.

Tonight, she lay atop her covers, overheated from the summer warmth and, as always, from what she heard from the other side of the wall, where the head of her bed was located.

"Oh yes, Henry, give me that big, hard cock!"

"You like it when I stuff your tight, little pussy full, don't you, Belinda?"

"Mm, I love it! You fuck me so good, Henry!"

As she began to feel dampness between her thighs, Fiona wondered briefly if things had been getting worse lately. When Henry had first come to Glenwood, he had been a very distracted young man. Although there was no denying his good looks, his head was always up in the clouds except when he was in the pulpit. Then, he would preach with a burning fervor in his eyes that made the good people of Glenwood rather nervous. It was just all too puritanical and, well,

American

.

When the engagement between Belinda, the eldest daughter, and Henry had been announced, the whole Chamberlain family had been rather shocked. Fiona had even ventured to ask Belinda if she was sure that the serious, overly devout Henry was really the husband she wanted.

Belinda had only smiled mysteriously and assured her that Henry had hidden assets that were very appealing. She had told Fiona not to worry and that she knew what she was doing.

And as the months wore on after the marriage, Fiona became all too aware of what those hidden assets were. Every night through the walls, she heard Belinda constantly praise Henry's enormous cock, how well he filled her up, how much she loved fucking him.

Henry seemed to relax with time as well. The holy glow in his eyes had dissipated and although he was still conscientious in his duties, he did not excessively obsess over the sins of Glenwood's villagers, much to their relief. It was a lot easier to bear the long Sunday sermons without feeling like eternal damnation was only a slight misstep away. And along with this relaxed attitude, Henry had also developed just as filthy a mouth as Belinda's.

Fiona finally climbed out of bed. Her light blonde hair ran down her back in a silvery cascade in the moonlight. Because of the warm summer air, she forego wrapping a dressing gown over her thin nightrail. She had a very slim figure in contrast to Belinda's busty curves. The only traits the Chamberlain daughters shared in common were blonde hair and blue eyes; their figures were very different. Fiona was tall and straight, with long limbs and an erect posture. Jane, the youngest, was the shortest, with a full, rounded figure. Fiona often thought Belinda was the luckiest of them all, to have the well-endowed, ripe body of a Greek statue. All three, however, were acknowledged beauties in the village and surrounding area.

Silently, Fiona crept out into the hallway and stopped in front of Belinda and Henry's door. Crouching down, she put her eye to the large keyhole. She had been doing this for some time now, first driven to it by an insatiable curiosity to match the sounds coming through the walls with their accompanying sights.

Tonight, Fiona could see Belinda laying on her back on the edge of the bed while Henry stood between her outstretched legs, rutting into her with wild abandon. Belinda's belly was now round with child, and every now and then, Henry would pause, grinding his cock into her pussy while he ran his hands possessively over her taut bump and swollen breasts, telling her how beautiful she was. Belinda, in turn, would moan and beg him to fuck her harder, faster.

Fiona watched until the two lovers came to a shattering climax, Henry stroking himself and painting Belinda's large belly with his cum while she shuddered in ecstasy, gripping her large breasts tightly in her hands.

Then Fiona stumbled back to her bed, her face red with embarrassment. She quickly lifted her nightgown and bit her lip when her shaking fingers found her aching core, dripping wet and tender. She pressed her lips together so she would not make any noise, and began to rub her little nub of pleasure, coming to a crashing orgasm only after a few caresses, she was so worked up. As throes of pleasure racked her body, she trembled on the sheets, her hand clamped between her thighs, swallowing her moans as best she could. When she was finally spent, she turned her face into the pillow and sighed with a mixture of confusion, shame, and longing.

The next morning, Fiona was heavy-eyed and sluggish. She picked at her toast and Mrs. Chamberlain asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing mamma, I just didn't sleep well last night."

Across the table, Belinda caught her eye and gave her a saucy wink, but Fiona quickly looked down at her plate, her face flushed red. Her sister was really too much sometimes!

Mrs. Chamberlain clucked her tongue. "I just don't know what is the matter with you, Fiona. Ever since you turned eighteen, I declare you have been so moody and impossible!" Fiona thought she could tell her mother what the matter was, since her eighteenth birthday had been only a couple of months after Belinda and Henry's wedding.

Instead, she swallowed some tea and let the familiar sounds of breakfast wash over her. Suddenly, her attention was caught by something her father was saying.

"So your old friend Mr. Jennings will be here in a few days, eh?"

Henry replied, "Yes, sir. I expect him on Thursday. Are you sure it's no trouble for him to stay here at the manor for several days?"

"Of course, of course!" Mr. Chamberlain waved his hand expansively. "Plenty of room in this big house, eh? Mr. Jennings is a clergyman, too, then?"

"Yes, a vicar in Wolverhampton. He said he's long wanted to see this part of the country."

Fiona's attention drifted away again. So they were to have a vicar come to visit. Probably a fat, boring man with white whiskers, like most other priests she'd ever seen. She sighed as she picked up her toast and bit into it.

Three days later, when Fiona sat down for dinner on Thursday, she realized what an error she had made in her estimation of Henry's friend.

Mr. Andrew Jennings was a young man in his mid-twenties, tall and muscled. He and Henry had, in fact, gone to school and then university together. Apparently, his vicarage had a home farm and he was very involved in the running of it. Fiona's youngest sister, Jane, leaned over to whisper that farming must involve quite a lot of lifting of heavy objects if Mr. Jennings' strong physique was any indication. He had golden blonde hair that waved away from his brow and his eyes were such a dark shade of brown that they looked almost black. He and Henry made quite the attractive pair at the dinner table, their hair and eyes a contrast of light and dark.

Mr. Jennings was easy-going and had no problem joining in the conversation in the informal atmosphere of the Chamberlain's dining room. For some reason, however, every time Fiona met his penetrating, dark stare, a shiver ran down her back. She was a naturally shy girl, and this evening was no different. She spent it mostly in silence, nervously avoiding Mr. Jennings' company.

Later that night, despite her continued weariness, she still could not sleep until she had tiptoed out into the hallway and shamefacedly watched through the keyhole again as her brother-in-law debauched Belinda, this time while her sister was on all fours, grunting like an animal. Then, only after Fiona had brought herself to a shuddering climax in her own bed, did she fall into fitful dreams of a shadowy, dark-eyed stranger.

The next evening after dinner, when everyone had gathered in the sitting room, Fiona was startled out of her concentration on her embroidery when Mr. Jennings took a chair beside her.

"And how are you this evening, Miss Fiona?" he asked in his low, cultured voice.

"Fine, thank you, Mr. Jennings. We have been having lovely weather, haven't we?" Fiona fiddled with her embroidery hoop, keeping her gaze on her work. She had successfully evaded Mr. Jennings all day, but he had cornered her now. She looked helplessly at the others in the room, but they seemed to all be gathered around the pianoforte, laughing and joking as Jane plunked out a few notes.

"It has been extremely warm this past week, even more so here in the south,"

Mr. Jennings said in a friendly, conversational tone. "I often wake up thirsty on hot nights, don't you, Miss Fiona?" She made a noncommittal sound in response and he continued. "In fact, last night, I ran down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You can imagine my surprise when I came back to the hallway in the east wing and saw you there."

Fiona's fingers stilled. "Oh?" she whispered. She could feel a hot flush travel from her neck all the way up to the top of her head.

"Were you attempting to slake a thirst as well, Miss Fiona?"

Could he mean--? Fiona quickly looked up to meet Mr. Jennings' eyes, afraid of what she might see in them. Disgust? Anger? Disappointment? But he was only gazing at her thoughtfully, with a small smile playing across his lips. She jerked her head once in a nod before returning her gaze back down.

"Ah, yes, I thought that must be it," Mr. Jennings said smoothly.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Fiona. Mr. Jennings spoke to her for several more minutes, of innocuous and tame topics. He managed to put her somewhat at ease and when she was getting ready for bed that night, she wondered about what he said.

Had he merely seen her for a brief moment when she was walking back to her room? Or had he seen her being a disgusting voyeur to her own sister's intimate acts? In any case, she thought it best not to engage in her normal keyhole viewing activities, at least for tonight.

As if they knew they had to compensate for her absence at their door, Belinda and Henry seemed to be even louder.

"Yes Henry! I love it when you lick my pussy like that!"

"You're so delicious, Belinda. I could eat you all day!"

"Stick that big fucking cock in my pussy, Henry! Oh God, you fill me up so good!"

"You're getting tighter every day, Belinda. Fuck, you feel fantastic!"

It was a constant litany and even after Fiona had brought herself to an orgasm with her fingers, she felt wanting and unfulfilled. She rolled over and reached into the drawer of her bedside table. From deep inside, she brought out the birthday present Belinda had given her months ago, a long, wooden instrument shaped like a man's cock, polished to a shine. Belinda had gifted it to her in secret, with detailed descriptions of all the things she could do with it.

Fiona had furtively hid it in that drawer for many months without touching it, although she constantly thought of it with shame and curiosity. It wasn't until after she had started peeping through the keyhole that she first used it. Then, with a new understanding of the mechanics, she had slowly and gently begun to play with it, gradually gaining confidence and taking her own innocence.

Tonight, Fiona felt so needy that she shoved it quickly inside her slick pussy without any hesitation, giving out a gasp as she felt it forging into her hot depths. With her knees tucked up by her shoulders and her elbows bracing her legs open, she had found she could more easily manipulate the dildo. Her lithe body bent almost in half, she thrust the tool quickly in and out of her aching, soaked pussy, rubbing all around it with her other hand as the sounds of her sister and brother-in-law fucking continued to fill her ears.

Her pussy felt so good stretched around the dildo that it wasn't long before she brought herself to another climax, this one much stronger. Fiona writhed on the bed, her swollen channel pulsing and clenching around the thick wood as she tightly circled her sensitive clit. She let out a muffled moan, unable to hold in her vocal response to the waves of pleasure throbbing from her pussy. Finally, she flopped back on the sheets, her limbs outspread like a starfish, the dildo still lodged deep inside her lapping pussy. In this scandalous position, she finally fell asleep.

The next day, Fiona had no trouble dodging Mr. Jennings during the day because he and Henry spent most of it in the village at the rectory, presumably to discuss church business and swap stories of their lives as clergymen with the rector, Mr. Brewer. They returned in time for dinner, and Mr. Jennings was such an engaging, pleasant dinner companion that Fiona was lulled into thinking that he must not have seen any scandalous behavior on her part. After all, what kind of priest would condone her actions? If he had seen her peeping through the keyhole, wouldn't he have brought a fiery sermon down upon her head for her wicked ways?

This comfortable belief held all through the evening and Fiona felt much less worried by the time she climbed into her bed. So much so that when she didn't hear anything coming from the room next door, she felt that it would be perfectly safe to leave her bedchamber.

Belinda and Henry did not conduct all of their carnal relations in the privacy of their bedchamber. They often ventured out late at night to various rooms in the manor, although they did seem to have a decided and strange predilection for Mr. Chamberlain's small study. Their late night wanderings were always a source of excitement for Fiona, as they invariably left doors open or were in rooms that had more than one entrance. Although their bedroom keyhole was big, the view it afforded was limited, and pressing one's eye to it for minutes at a time was rather awkward. Thus, the promise of seeing Belinda and Henry more easily and comfortably always lured Fiona out into the house at large to play her own personal, bawdy game of hide and seek.

Tonight, she tracked them down in the library, her favorite place to view their debauchery because of how many hiding places there were. It was a very large room with shelves running up two floors and had a wide balcony all along three walls, separating the floors. Two tiny, spiral staircases were in each outer corner of the room, but you could also enter the balcony from a hallway on the second floor. On the open and spacious main floor, there were various desks and tables, as well as several comfortable arm chairs placed at the windows.

As Fiona tiptoed along the darkened balcony, searching for the best vantage point, Belinda stretched out on the largest desk, completely naked. Tonight, her scandalous sister and brother-in-law had lit several candles on tables nearby. Fiona could easily see that Belinda's dressing gown lay on the desk beneath her, cushioning her against its hard, wooden surface. Henry sat at a chair to her side, suckling one of her large breasts. Over the months, Fiona had watched with wonder as her sister's bosom had grown and grown, her pink areolas stretching to double their original size. The nipples also seemed to have elongated, and Henry was pulling at one with his fingers while he suckled at the other.

"I can't wait to taste your mother's milk, Belinda," he said in between sucks.

"Mm, me neither!" she replied.

Fiona sank to the floor, her knees wide. If she scooted her bum all the way up to the railing, she could see below through the thin wooden bars while still leaning back slightly to touch herself. She had never found any use for her strange flexibility before this past year, but had now realized that being able to contort herself into all kinds of positions had its benefits. The balcony was dark in the shadows, and she was sure she was completely hidden from view.

With her nightrail rucked up to her waist, Fiona reached her fingers down, finding herself wet and ready. The anticipation as she had tiptoed through the house had already made her damp and swollen. Down below, Henry had moved his chair so that he sat between his wife's thighs, his head at the perfect height to lean forward and lick her pussy.

He sucked and nibbled while thrusting his fingers into her juicy entrance. As he did so, Belinda praised his agile tongue and moaned her appreciation, squirming on the desk, the candlelight gleaming off her ripe, plump body.

"Yes, Henry, I'm going to cum, don't stop, don't stop!" Belinda cried out, her hands in Henry's hair as she ground her crotch into his mouth and tongue.

Fiona thought she, too, was on the edge as her hand worked between her thighs, her fingers slicking over her engorged clit again and again. She could feel the tightening in her belly, the pulsing in her clit, and just as she thought she would tip over into ecstatic release, a hand clamped over her mouth, and a warm, hard body crowded in behind her.

On the library floor below, Belinda was coming in shrieks of pleasure, shaking and groaning while Henry hummed in satisfaction, his tongue wringing more spasms out of his wife.

On the balcony, Fiona sat frozen, crammed against the wooden bars of the railing by whoever was behind her. Over the din her sister was making, she heard a familiar, low voice in her ear.

"You naughty, naughty girl," Mr. Jennings said. "What a nasty thing to do, watch your own sister get fucked." He was on his knees behind her, his mouth hovering close to her ear.

Fiona slowly began to move her hand away from her exposed pussy, but the voice tsked harshly. "Don't you dare move that hand. I want to see you make yourself come. If you can do it in the next sixty seconds, I won't tell your parents what a sinful daughter they have. One... two... three... Don't you think you had better start moving? Four..."

Mr. Jennings must have been satisfied that she would not cry out at this point, for he moved his hands to her breasts, easily finding her taut nipples through her thin nightrail. He pinched them hard on the fourth count, and this galvanized Fiona into action, her fingers once more circling rapidly around her clit. As he continued his whispered countdown, he squeezed the elongated tips of her breasts with each second, sending wicked shivers through her body that seemed to land straight in her hot pussy.

Fiona had been so close to release before, it wasn't long at all until she could feel the climax barreling towards her again. She could hardly believe it, but the seductive, hypnotic voice counting the seconds, the heat of his fingers torturing her tender nipples, and the sight and sounds of Henry and Belinda, now fucking with enthusiastic abandon down below, were all swiftly moving her towards the pinnacle.

"Forty-six... forty-seven... not too much time left now... forty-eight... forty-nine... yes, that's it, you filthy little slut, come for me, do it!" Mr. Jennings' whispers had become harsh, and as he rasped those last words in her ear, Fiona's eyes rolled up into her head and she came hard. Her jaw dropped open in a silent scream as waves and waves of overwhelming pleasure inundated her and she shook for endless moments as she firmly pressed her fingers against her throbbing clit.

Her head lolled back on the broad shoulder behind her, and suddenly, she was effortlessly lifted in strong, muscular arms. She felt Mr. Jennings kiss her damp temple. As he quickly and quietly carried her back to the east wing, he said in a low whisper that made her tremble, "What a very good girl you are, Fiona. I think you deserve a reward."