In Which Innocence returns to the pleasures of Eve and Dawn, Eve is enjoyed in the pleasant environs of a garden and Innocence is exposed to greater fame than before.
Eve gradually recovered from her experience with Innocence and indeed even initiated a correspondence with her deflowerer. She had been right, it seemed to her, to insist on having her maidenhead taken by the famous Innocence rather than by some hairy unsubtle man. She may not ever want to have sex again - and, indeed, after the pain it had caused her, she was still pretty sure she didn't want another repeat of it for quite a while.
She still recalled too clearly the pain as her insides were torn apart by her unusually endowed lover and spilt out so colourfully onto the white sheet while two or three cameras stared rather too closely at her face and her cunt - the former showing just as much distress as the latter. Her mother still felt rather upset by the ordeal, but when the cheque for it arrived it more than covered all the horrendous debts that had accumulated after her husband's tragic accident with a motorised garden lawn mower and let them lead life on a much more even keel. She had even come to think that it had been worth it.
Eve was quite a fan of Innocence's movies which she rented from the video store and watched, sometimes together with her mother. It was not Innocence's beauty alone that attracted her and certainly not the storyline. It was some more intangible aspect of her lovemaking which seemed both appropriate to her name but delightfully sluttish at the same time, as she thrust her practised penis into the arses and vaginas of the men and women who co-starred with her. Innocence was clearly a porn star with a genuine concern for her screen lovers and a degree of professionalism in the way she executed the money shot, the cream shot or the throat shot. Her letters to Innocence began much the same as any letters from a fan to her screen idol, but they soon became confessionals of her feelings towards her mother, the pains of adolescence and her worries about her lack of any sexual feelings towards boys or even to most women. She enjoyed masturbation, and she felt able to tell Innocence in great detail about how she practised it.
There was no item in the fridge or the pantry, no item of detachable furniture or common household item, and no place, indoors or out, that were not suitable for her masturbatory bouts - sometimes watched by her troubled mother but most often not watched at all. The images that flashed through her mind as she brought herself to orgasmic ecstasy were not, however, particularly well focused. Just the feelings of pleasure it brought her seemed adequate. There was no need to think of men and women - though the image of the two of them merged in one (as it was with Innocence) was quite sufficient stimulus.
She was almost surprised when her frequent entreaties for Innocence to come and stay with her and her mother were answered positively. She knew that she wrote many more letters to Innocence than were ever written to her, and that the passion and obsession she expressed in them were far from reciprocated by Innocence's generally quite embarrassed and polite replies. She knew that the feelings she felt towards Innocence as she watched yet again the video of her fucking her mother were nowhere near as strongly felt by Innocence. She felt that her love was as masturbatory as her lovemaking, and in a sense preferred it that way. The knowledge that her maidenhead had been breached by Innocence was somehow better than the memory of it or the thought of it ever happening again.
She and her mother lived in an expensive cottage just outside the city of Congress which judging from the landscape of sheep, goats and open fields may well have been much further away from the city than the constant low roar from the nearby motorway made certain they could never truly forget. The garden which occupied most of her mother's time - pruning the begonias, roses and gladioli - was very large, containing secret corners and patches where Eve could masturbate in peace secure in the knowledge that only her mother would ever be likely to find her. And her mother was now quite accustomed to the sight of her daughter squirming in the grass with her hands up her vagina, sometimes with a cucumber or a parsnip to assist in inducing pleasure. Eve knew that her mother had by now decided that it was merely a dysfunction caused by the death of her husband, but Eve hadn't really known her father as anyone other than the man who'd watch television in silence all evening when he wasn't pushing a lawn mower about the garden. His loss was most keenly felt in the lack of money coming in, and little promise of more arriving in the future while his estate was still being argued in the courts between his many apparent benefactees.
Innocence was clearly very impressed by the garden when she arrived, and Eve spent a happy hour or so showing her friend the corners of the garden she'd described in such detail in her letters. The hedgerow where she often masturbated on the handle of a broom. The lawn she'd rub up close to her rounded breasts. The nettles she sometimes beat herself with until she came up in a raw red rash around her cunt and upper thighs. Innocence wandered about in a long white dress with a prominent cleavage that made Eve feel like throwing herself onto the grass, pushing her fingers right into the warm sticky welcomeness of her vagina and feeling the blades rub against her own breasts. She had an urgent desire to feel the longer grass push into the sensuous aureate tenderness of her nipples and her toes dig into the earth.
Her intention, however, was not to make love to Innocence. This capacity was taken by her mother who welcomed any opportunity for sex - almost not caring with whom or what - as a kind of substitute for the attention of her deceased husband. Eve knew that her mother had loved her father. Despite his general silence and inoffensiveness most of the time, she knew the intensity of her mother's love from the passionate cries of ecstasy her mother used to emit, reverberating about the house, and the countless occasions she'd come across her father fucking her mother in the house and garden, and pretending not to have noticed anything. Innocence was not her father, although she very much more revered this strange sensual creature, but her mother didn't prevent that fact from disturbing the ecstasy of her cries, the frequency of her orgasms or her hunger for yet more.
Eve found her mother and Innocence locked in embrace, or with Innocence's penis firmly embedded in an orifice, or her mother's mouth gulping at the length of it, in so many different places. In the living room, between the plastic model of a precious Chinese vase and the sofa. On her mother's bed or in the guest room. In the garden between the hyacinths and rhododendrons. At all times and at all places. Her mother's fuller breasts wobbled in their growing looseness as, crouched down, she took thrust after thrust from Innocence in her arse or in her cunt. The slight bulge of her stomach relaxing its rigour with age giving way as Innocence pushed away at her, her mouth open and her eyes staring around with that wide and excited stare that Eve recognised so well.
Having Innocence visit was such a joy to Eve. Someone who listened with so much patience as Eve talked about the things that she liked most: her favourite toys and ornaments, the birds gathering on the bird table that Eve would watch with such fascination, the pieces of music she would play again and again, never tiring of the familiarity she had gained with every individual note. She loved to see her mother enjoying herself fucking with Innocence. Whatever gave her mother joy, gave her joy.
"But, Eve, don't you want me to make love to you as well?" Asked a genuinely puzzled Innocence, who had presumably expected in her week's visit to reply in physical form to the desires Eve had expressed so abundantly in literary form.
Eve shook her head, and glanced down at her vagina which was revealed by her fingers underneath the short flared dress she'd hoisted up and the cotton knickers she'd pulled down. "No, not again. Not yet," she mouthed apologetically. For all the pleasure masturbation gave her and that which she got from observing the lovemaking between her mother and Innocence - the two people she most loved in the world - she still didn't feel prepared to repeat what had been so demonstrably achieved before. "I'm not ready for more."
Innocence kissed her tenderly on the lips. "It doesn't have to be there again," she reassured her.
Eve pushed Innocence off her. "I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I don't know what it is. I just don't want to. Please don't make me."
