“So, Lizzy,” said Jane, as they walked that morning in the gardens of Netherfield, “How will you bear to be separated from Mr Darcy for so long as a month? I am sure I should miss dear Charles enormously, although to be spared from his nightly attentions to my person would be some relief! Really, sometimes I am quite sore in the morning, and can hardly walk from the pounding he has given to my delicate quim!”

“Oh really, Jane,” said Elizabeth mockingly, “Is Mr Bingley really so rough with you? I am certain I shall bear it very well, although to be sure I shall miss the attentions of dearest Fitzwilliam quite severely. From what you tell me, Mr Bingley is quite as insatiable as he. Can all men be so unable to restrain their passions?”

“I care not,” said Jane lightly. “so long as Charles is rogering me nightly, I know he is not casting his attentions in any other direction!”

“You should not joke like that,” said Elizabeth. “I am sure he is the most loyal and loving of husbands!”

Jane laughed, and squeezed Elizabeth’s arm.

“Of course he is – although I do sometimes tease him that he will tire of me in time. So I always allow him to enjoy himself with me – and to be frank, I could not be without the pleasure it gives to me, despite the soreness.”

At which point they were interrupted by the arrival of their two husbands, who had been lingering in conversation.

“My dear Jane, will you come with me for a moment?” said Mr Bingley. “Benson wished to make a suggestion about the landscaping of the park, but I said that I wished for your opinion first. I see him by the lake, so now might be a good time for him to explain his proposals. I do hope, Fitzwilliam, that you and your wife will excuse us. Please do continue your walk, if you do not wish to return to the house.”

“I think a further walk would be most agreeable,” said Mr Darcy. “I particularly wish to show Elizabeth the flowering arrangement by the box hedge.”

This surprised Elizabeth a little, as her husband did not usually much concern himself with gardening matters, but she allowed him to guide her in that direction as Mr Bingley and Jane hurried off in the direction of the lake.

“I was considering a similar arrangement for the beds by the fountain at Pemberley,” explained Mr Darcy. “These flowers down here are most attractive, are they not?”

Elizabeth leant over to see some small white blooms at the front of the flower-bed. She thought that they might in fact be weeds, and was about to say so to her husband when she realised that while she was bending over, he was taking the opportunity to gaze down her décolletage at the topmost curves of her bosom.

“Why, Fitzwilliam!” she exclaimed, but before she could say any more he had put his arms around her body and planted a kiss firmly on her mouth. Her chest was pressed up against his, with the result that her bosoms were pushed up and together, almost popping right out of the top of her bodice. Somewhat to her surprise, she felt his hand actually clasp one of her firm globes and press it hard.

Elizabeth was not sure that such behaviour was appropriate for the gardens of their hosts, however close the friendship, but the feelings in her body were undoubtedly ones of pleasure. They had on more than one occasion become carried away in the gardens of Pemberley, and Elizabeth was normally happy to succumb to her husband’s advances. She hoped that none of the gardeners were at work nearby, but as her husband was due to leave that very afternoon after luncheon, she was glad to have one last chance to enjoy his attentions.

“Oh my goodness,” she protested, but she made no efforts to prevent his hand from undoing one ivory button after another on the bodice of her gown. Quite soon the top of her dress was quite undone, and her white bosoms were held in place only by her linen chemise, laced tightly at the front. She wondered if her husband would stop there, but he showed few signs of being satisfied by the sight of the tops of her firm globes. His hand pulled on the bow and began to unlace her chemise.

At this, Elizabeth made a half-hearted attempt to push him from her, but his arm around her waist held her tight.

“What if someone sees us?” she gasped.

Mr Darcy’s only answer to this was to take her hand and place it on his breeches, where she felt (not entirely to her surprise) that his appendage was already swelling and straining at the material.

In only a few seconds, the laces were undone, and with both hands Mr Darcy pulled the sides of her chemise apart, exposing the glorious orbs of Elizabeth’s bare breasts to his eyes. As he gazed at her little pink cherries with their surrounding circles of darker skin, Elizabeth observed that they were visibly rising up and hardening, as they always did when she touched them, but this time without any manual assistance.

“Why, Elizabeth, your little rosebuds are rising to meet me,” remarked Mr Darcy, and lowered his mouth to her right breast, his lips closing over the hard little bud. Elizabeth gasped as she felt his warm wet tongue flickering over it, his mouth sucking it as if trying to pull it to twice its normal length. She did so like it when he played thus with her cherries; such a warm feeling progressed from the tips of her bosoms down towards that place between her legs. As her husband’s tongue moved to her other cherry, leaving the first wet from his mouth, she stroked at his member, now very stiff inside his breeches. His hand began to fumble at his breeches buttons, but she moved his hand away.

“Let me do that, my dear,” she whispered, and began herself to undo the buttons. She put her hand inside his breeches and felt for his stiff member, pulling it free of his tight clothing. The head was already protruding from its hood, shiny and purple. She began to rub her hand up and down it, as she assumed he would want, but instead he took her hand away, placed his hands on her shoulders and gently lowered her onto her knees. She worried for a moment that her dress might become soiled by the grass, but as Mr Darcy’s member came into view in front of her eyes her mind turned to other things. It stood at right angles to his body, rising out of its nest of hair – hair not unlike her own but darker and courser, more masculine in every way. The dark twin sack of his baubles hung down underneath.

“Open your mouth, Elizabeth,” groaned Mr Darcy, and obediently she did so, although this was not something that he had previously asked her to do. She took hold of his member, which jumped in her hand as she touched it, and guided its purple tip towards her open mouth. She looked up at Mr Darcy as the first inch moved between her red lips. He smiled down at her as he gently stroked her hair, and she closed her lips around his tumescent member, feeling the first few inches filling her mouth. She allowed her tongue to explore its warm contours, and felt it swell to even greater size.

Mr Darcy held her head as he began slowly to move his erect member in and out of Elizabeth’s mouth. This was a most pleasant sensation, and Elizabeth wrapped her tongue around it as it thrust in and out. She fondled her own breast as she did so, squeezing her hard cherries between her fingers. Quite soon, she felt Mr Darcy start to tremble, and with a sudden thrust a great stream of his warm emission erupted from the end of his member and into her mouth. Elizabeth was not entirely sure what to do, but felt that it was perhaps best to swallow it all. As she felt each spurt emerge, she gulped it down, Even so, as Mr Darcy withdrew his still engorged member from between her lips, a small amount escaped from her mouth and ran down onto her chin.

“My sincere apologies, Mrs Darcy,” said her husband, putting out his arm in a most gentleman-like fashion to help her back to her feet. He took out of his breast pocket a clean white handkerchief, which he handed to her so that she could wipe the errant liquid from her face.

“O pray do not apologise, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth, her eyes a-sparkle, as she transferred the smear of emission to the handkerchief. “It is wholly my own fault for failing to swallow all of that delicious substance which you were kind enough to give to me! I am not sure how I will manage to eat any luncheon, my stomach is so full.”

Mr Darcy returned his member to his breeches, it having now shrunk to something closer to its previous size. Elizabeth looked at her bare breasts, which after their handling were still flushed in a somewhat un-ladylike manner. She tucked them back into her chemise and quickly laced it up again. She could still taste her husband’s salty emission in her mouth and throat. It was a not unpleasant flavour and she felt that she could perhaps learn to like it if this was to become a regular feature of their relationship. She further returned her dress to its regular state, doing up her buttons and smoothing down her rumpled skirt.

“Why, my dearest husband,” she declared, “I feel quite flushed and warm. What will people think of me?”

“My dear Elizabeth, perhaps we should walk a little further in order to allow you to regain your composure.” He too appeared somewhat discomforted, and a slight dampness on his pale-coloured breeches suggested that his member remained wet from a combination of her mouth and his emission.

At the end of the walk, they met with the Bingleys, who appeared to have finished their discussions about the park, although Jane did give Elizabeth a somewhat peculiar smile and squeezed her hand in a sisterly fashion. This made Elizabeth flush, at which Jane squeezed her hand again and seemed barely able to control herself. Together, the four persons returned to the house for a brief luncheon, before the carriage was ready to take Mr Darcy away.

……

That evening, after dinner, Elizabeth was seated at her dressing-table preparing for bed. She had dismissed her maid after removing her outer garments, and had changed into her nightgown herself. She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling as usual both pleased and somewhat embarrassed at how very much her husband appeared to enjoy touching and exploring every aspect of her naked body. Mr Darcy was always especially attentive towards her breasts, and she pulled her gown off her shoulders, exposing both of them to her own gaze. They were certainly both firm and well-rounded, and Elizabeth stroked her left mound with her hand, feeling the little bud harden just as it had done that afternoon.

Elizabeth recollected how when she was sixteen her sister Jane – two years older than she, and thus to Elizabeth infinitely wise in the ways of the world - had shown her how and where to touch herself when she was unclothed, and what pleasure could be had from use of the candle which normally stood by her bedside, but which also fitted so neatly inside the moist passage between her legs. She smiled as she remembered how they would remove their nightgowns as they lay together in the bed that they used to share, and touch each other intimately before they drifted off to sleep. At that time, eighteen-year-old Jane’s bosoms were larger than hers even then, and she had seemed to get great pleasure from allowing Elizabeth to touch them and their little cherries. On the other hand, the hair between Elizabeth's legs had been darker and thicker, and Jane had enjoyed running her fingers through it, finding the little lips hidden within, and the deeper pleasures of her slit. As she thought of those, she slipped her hand underneath the hem of her nightgown and let her fingers roam through her muff and play with the lips of her quim. She felt her passage becoming moist again.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock at the door. Quickly, Elizabeth pressed her breasts back into her nightgown and smoothed it back into place. “Come in” she said, in as calm a manner as she could contrive. She was both pleased and slightly embarrassed as her sister Jane slipped into the room. She too was wearing just her nightgown, and she ran over to Elizabeth’s bed and sat down on it.

“It’s so pleasing to have you to myself again, Lizzy!” she said. “Much as I admire Mr Darcy, I cannot yet get used to your being his wife!”

“Well, you are a wife yourself now, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “Who would have thought only twelve months ago how our lives would have changed?”

“Do you recall, Lizzy, how we used to play?” said Jane. “With our bodies, I mean…with these.” And she blushed slightly as she raised the hem of her nightgown to reveal her moist private area in its little nest of hair.

“Why, Jane, how could I possibly forget?” replied Elizabeth with a smile. “You clearly have pleasant memories also, as I can tell from the moisture that I can see there on your pink lips.”

“May I tell you a secret, dearest Lizzy?” asked Jane, leaning forward and clasping her hands in her lap over her private place. “After we left you in the garden this afternoon, dear Bingley and I were watching you and Mr Darcy from behind the hedge!”

“Oh Jane,” cried Elizabeth in horror, her face flushing in an instant. “How could you? And what must you think of me?”

“Why, I think that you had a very pleasant time of it, and I do hope that you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed watching you. And, dearest sister, what you could not have known is that leaving you and Mr Darcy alone was all a plan by Bingley and Darcy! You see, Darcy told Bingley how much he would miss you, and Bingley said that perhaps you should have one last opportunity to say goodbye. Apparently, Mr Darcy had admitted that he had never placed his member in your mouth, and Charles said that it was a most agreeable sensation, and suggested that Darcy should do it before he left for Yorkshire!”

Elizabeth tried to decide whether she was shocked that the gentlemen had discussed such matters quite so freely, but she had to admit that it was not so different to some of the conversations between herself and her sister.

“You mean that there was no discussion with Mr Benson about the garden?” said Elizabeth.

“None whatsoever!” exclaimed Jane. “Dearest Bingley merely pulled me behind the hedge, and suggested that we wait a moment and watch you both.”

“Oh Jane!” interrupted Elizabeth. “To think that you saw…oh my!”

“I must confess I did feel quite guilty at first,” said Jane, “but as soon as you took Mr Darcy’s tool into your mouth, I could not take my eyes off you! And neither could dear Charles, who himself has a splendid tool, but I do declare that Mr Darcy has one that would trump even his. And Lizzy, did you really swallow all of his emission, as you seemed to do?”

“Why, yes, Jane, and most agreeable it was. But was that wrong of me? I was not sure what else I could have done with it!”

“You acted quite correctly, Lizzy, although as it was your first time I thought that you might have let it fall from your mouth onto the grass. But to swallow it is indeed most agreeable,” said Jane, who clearly had some experience in such matters.

“I take it that you have swallowed Mr Bingley’s emission on more than one occasion?” said Elizabeth, interested despite herself.

“Oh Lord, many times!” said Jane lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

What with all this talk of members and emissions, Elizabeth was becoming somewhat aroused. Within her nightgown, her buds were once more standing up in quite an embarrassing way. They really were quite uncontrollable today, and she felt an urge to touch them that she found hard to resist. But looking at her dear sister, she could see that Jane’s were likewise somewhat prominent, and she was stroking her bare thighs in a manner that suggested she was in a similar state of stimulation.

“What else do you and Mr Bingley do?” asked Elizabeth curiously. She wondered how many different ways there were for a husband and wife to pleasure each other, and was curious to know if Jane had anything to teach her in this regard.

“Well, of course he puts his tool in my quim most often,” said Jane. “He says that my slit is most tight and agreeable – as perhaps you yourself recall!” And she brushed her fingers lightly over her delicate lips in their nest of downy hair.

“Indeed,” she continued, “it was all I could do to stop him from putting it there this afternoon while we were watching you and Mr Darcy. As it was, he pulled up my skirt and petticoats and put his fingers there from behind! ‘Tis a wonder you did not hear us!”

“Does he like to put his fingers inside you?” asked Elizabeth. “It is something that Darcy does; he likes to see how many fingers he can get inside me. It reminds me of the way I used to pleasure myself, before you taught me how to make use of a candle.”

“Oh yes, Lizzy, he uses three fingers!” giggled Jane. “Like this!”

And, sitting on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed, she opened her legs wide in a most shameless manner. Arranging three of her dainty fingers into an arrow shape, she wiggled them through her bush of hair between her rosy lips and into the little moist red slit. She let out a little gasp as they disappeared from view.

“Mr Darcy likes me to remove all my garments and sit in the big chair in his bedroom,” said Elizabeth, wishing to show that she and her husband were equally capable of more adventurous activities. “I put one leg over one chair arm, and one over the other, which he says looks most inviting, and gives his member easy access to my moist quim. I confess that I like the way it stretches me open for him.”

“That sounds most exciting,” said Jane, who was still pleasuring herself with her fingers. “Is it at all like the chair in this room?”

“Oh yes, very like,” said Elizabeth. “Would you like me to show you how I do it?”

Jane just nodded, her eyes wide.

Elizabeth was feeling somewhat light-headed at the sight of her beloved sister so exposed in front of her eyes. She felt an exquisite tingling sensation deep within her, and, rising from her stool, she took hold of the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up slowly over her head, revealing first the brown hair of her muff followed by the firm orbs of her pale bosom. She dropped the nightgown on the floor and walked slowly over to the chair.

She sat down in it and, just as she would do for her husband, placed one leg over each arm. This had the effect of spreading her thighs to their utmost extension. The lips around her delicate passage had always been less prominent than Jane’s, but sitting like this they were clearly visible, as was the pink slit between them, leading into her soft passage.

“And then, Jane, I place my fingers on each side and hold myself open for him,” said Elizabeth, matching actions to words. She pulled her lips apart, leaving the pink flesh and moist entrance fully exposed.

“Oh Elizabeth…” said Jane, apparently still lost for words. She took hold of her own nightgown and pulled it up over her body. Now the two sisters were both unclothed together. Jane reached over to the bedside table and took up the spare candle which lay there. She stood and walked slowly across the room to where Elizabeth sat exposed wantonly to her view, and knelt down in front of her. She leant over and planted a soft kiss right in the middle of Elizabeth’s pink quim, while stroking the insides of her thighs, a sensation which she knew her sister loved.

Elizabeth looked down to see Jane take the candle and felt it pushing at the entrance to her quim. With just one push her soft lips parted to admit the candle, sucking it into her hole, and she gasped with pleasure.

“Is that nice, my dearest sister?” asked Jane, sliding the candle in and out of Elizabeth’s moist passage.

“Oh yes, Jane,” said Elizabeth, her breath starting to come more rapidly. “Please, do not stop!”

“My goodness, you are quite as wet as I recollect,” said Jane, pushing the candle in as far as she could. “Do you still like it when I tickle you here?” And she found Elizabeth’s most sensitive area with the candle, twisting it round to increase the stimulation.

Aroused as she already was, Elizabeth was already close to reaching the apex of her pleasure. Jane knew just how to manipulate the candle to bring her to a climactic point of delight.

“Yes, Jane, yes! Oh my darling!” she cried, grasping arms of the chair as she thrust her hips forward. As she reached her blessed release, Jane removed the candle, placed her face against Elizabeth’s pink flesh, and received the full flow of her copious liquid stream in her mouth and over her cheeks. As Elizabeth stopped trembling and lay gasping in the chair, she observed Jane licking her lips as the liquid dripped off her chin onto her breasts.

“Yes, dearest Elizabeth, your own emission tastes just as good as I remember it,” Jane said with a smile. She leant over and kissed her sister on the mouth. “And while I would really love for you to do the same for me, I fear that I have already stayed here too long. Dearest Charles I know will be waiting for me. After seeing you this afternoon, I know that he will certainly want to roger me, and I confess that I look forward to the prospect with much pleasure; my quim is quite soaking with anticipation. I do wish you could see us…he is most vigorous in his exertions, and quite tires me out! He will undoubtedly ask what I have on my face, and I will delight in telling him.”

Slipping her nightgown back over her head, she went to the door, and was about to leave when an idea seemed to come into her mind. “But wait, my dear Elizabeth. I have an idea. Come to my room in 30 minutes, which will give me time to complete my toilette and prepare myself for my husband. Look through the keyhole and you should be able to see us together! Knowing that you are there watching us will increase my pleasure ten-fold.”

The thought of spying on her sister felt oddly thrilling to Elizabeth. It was not the sort of behaviour to which she was accustomed, but recalling that Jane and Mr Bingley had observed her and Mr Darcy earlier in the day, she concluded that it would be only fair for her to do likewise. She spent the 30 minutes in cleaning and washing herself, before silently leaving her room and passing down the corridor, lighting her way with the very same candle that had so recently been deployed for a very different purpose.

It was fortunate that she was taking care as she turned the corner into the corridor of Jane’s room, otherwise she would have had a most embarrassing encounter. Fortunately, she stopped herself in time, as it appeared that she was not the only one who was interested in peering through keyholes this night. Shielding her candle, she peered round the corner to see Molly, her sister’s maid, bending over and indulging in the very same practice that Jane had suggested for herself! Just as interesting was the fact that Drummond, Mr Bingley’s manservant, was there as well, wearing only his lower undergarments. Molly’s nightgown had been thrown up until it hung untidily around her neck, revealing both her smooth firm buttocks and her dangling dugs. This posture gave Drummond full access to her quim, and he was taking full advantage of the opportunity this gave him, thrusting his virile member in and out of Molly in a most vigorous fashion. Molly was squeezing vigorously at her hanging breasts as she watched whatever activities were going on in Jane’s room between her and Mr Bingley.

It took Elizabeth but a moment to bundle her own nightgown up around her waist, and she was very soon pleasuring herself with her fingers as she observed this unexpected but entertaining spectacle. As she watched his thrusting motions, Elizabeth observed that Drummond appeared to have a particularly long member – not that she was exactly an expert in such matters – and it was going very deep inside Molly. He soon began to thrust very quickly, and it was clear that he was close to his release. With a low groan, he pulled out his member (allowing Elizabeth her first sight of its full length) and expended his emission in a great arc over Molly’s back. Several equally large flights of emission followed the first, with the last few falling onto the maid’s white buttocks. This sight caused Elizabeth to reach her own heights of pleasure once again, and she felt her own legs become wet with the liquid that emerged from her quim, running out over her fingers.

Molly stood up and let her nightgown fall back over her body, covering the emissions over her back. Drummond wiped his member on her gown before tucking it back inside his undergarments, and the two of them hurried off down the corridor, fortunately not towards Elizabeth. She in turn slipped back to her room, wondering exactly what she was going to tell Jane in the morning. Should she tell her what she had seen? She had no wish to get either Molly or Drummond into trouble, and while she suspected that Jane would be amused by the story, Mr Bingley, as master of the household, might take a less charitable view. If she did not report what she had seen, how could she explain the fact that she had been prevented from observing Jane’s own activities? It was a complicated dilemma, and one which exercised her as she lay in bed, while continuing to stroke and play with her own most sensitive parts. She had come to no certain conclusion before she fell asleep.

[I hope any fans of Miss Austen will take this in the spirit it was intended – a naughty little “jeu d’esprit” involving her characters. Others have of course done this sort of thing rather better than me; I have not attempted a serious pastiche of her subtle style, which is far more difficult than people sometimes think, but it has been interesting trying to describe sexual activities using the sort of vocabulary in use during the regency period. Please let me know if you have spotted any glaring anachronisms.]