Proclivity. Such an interesting word and fetish is its sister. I would learn much about these words later but I learned a lot that night. I snuck into the house and when Cook called me for dinner, I was dressed and ready. My father and mother entered the dining room as always, hand in hand, smiles on their faces. To all assembled, they would seem like any ordinary couple but I knew different. I looked with loving eyes at Arthur and knew the reason that my mother's breasts were so big was because of his proclivity toward pregnant women. His fetish was drinking birth milk and I had watched him achieve his release while suckling from her nipples.
Watching my parents whetted my appetite for more. I wanted to see the penis entering the vagina. I wanted to see the man reacting to burying himself in the woman's warm, wet sheath and I wanted to see the woman's body reacting to his penetration. Still, my attention was drawn to my mother's feminine frame. I wanted to see more of her body and fantasized about being able to touch her beautiful body. But for now, I would have to settle with watching someone else touch her ...
* * * * *
Night brought restlessness to Cassia. The day's events weighed heavily on her mind and in the midst of her sleep, she'd awaken with her fingers shoved deeply into her pussy. A few times, she awoke just before she came and whimpered her way into an orgasm, gasping for breath. By the time the sun cast its friendly rays through her window, she was a sleepy, nervous wreck. She was happy that the morning cleansing water was cold; it helped to reduce the puffy bags from under her eyes and she skated through breakfast, grabbing a muffin and an apple and making the excuse that she and Jenny were going to watch the sunrise from the east pasture.
"You're lying!"
It took a long time for Cassia to convince Jenny that what she'd seen and heard was the truth. "I don't know when it's going to happen but my mother is going to fuck another man."
"I can't believe that!"
"I can." Cassia pulled her friend close, her hand drifting into her open bodice and awakening a fat nipple. "My father is a wonderful man."
Jenny sighed at the feelings that her friend's hands were evoking. "Yes ... and he has a wonderful daughter."
A morning of lovemaking gave way to afternoon and Cassia parted with her friend, eager to find out what was going on in the house. The housekeeper told her that her mother and father had gone into town but wouldn't elaborate on the reason for their visit. The chambermaids knew nothing, either. That only left two people that Cassia considered confidantes in the house. Cook, who knew every bit of information that flowed through the house and Withers, the blacksmith, an older but handsome man who kept the horses shod and repaired other things around the estate. She'd always had a crush on him and loved the way he treated her like an adult.
Cook was in the kitchen, supervising the killing and cleaning of chickens for dinner and seemed to be a bit frazzled. Cassia stole a carrot stick from a cold platter and pinched her nose at the smell of blood. "Yuck!"
"What are you doing in here?"
"Came to see what all the fuss was."
A light seemed to twinkle in Cook's eye for a quick second, then just as quickly disappeared. "Just plucking chickens. You've seen it done before."
