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Sparks fly in the coffee shop.

The handle was broad and rounded, nowhere near as thick as a man's cock, but enough for her.

Mary laid Betsy on her front, stroking her back and caressing her plump buttocks. She could feel Betsy trembling under her fingers and knew that this was partly fear, partly excitement. Betsy lifted her body slightly, the movement causing her buttocks to spread a little, exposing the deep cleft between them. Mary leaned in close to nuzzle, her fingers slipping down to delve in the wet folds of flesh at the juncture of Betsy's thighs, burrowing like a little animal there. She could feel the slippery heat, and, holding the hairbrush by the bristled end, she slid the handle down to Betsy's sex. The girl jumped slightly when she felt the cold silver against her, but it warmed in the heat of her body and Mary began to push it inside her. Betsy was on her hands and knees now, and Mary was able to reach under the plump girls body and caress her pleasure bud with her free hand. She was careful to pump slowly at first, knowing Betsy's inexperience, but soon began to pump harder, thrusting the brush deeper into Betsy, rubbing and stroking her clitoris. Betsy pushed her face into the pillow to stifle her cries; the sensations were overwhelming her.

Betsy came quickly, panting, but felt unfulfilled. She wanted more and Mary seemed to understand. 'It's not the same' she told Betsy, 'It's different with a man'.

Wondering how this was going to come about, Betsy drifted off to sleep. Mary, meanwhile, decided to ask Jack for a favour.

The next day, the housekeeper was still all-quiver, giving out orders left and right, and Mary took advantage of the confusion to slip out to the stables to see Jack. He was helping the farrier with the houses-several had thrown shoes and he was good at calming them. She stood at the door, the heat of the place forcing her back and he saw her standing there through the smoke. Outside, she was about to embrace him but thought better of it: others were watching and he was covered in ash and smelt of the fire-it was best not to give the housekeeper clues as to her whereabouts.

They spoke quickly in hushed voices. Jack was surprised at her request, but intrigued. Betsy had seemed like a quiet mouse to him, stumbling around, shrinking into her self. This, if Mary was telling truth, was a whole new side to her. They made plans for Jack to come to the girl's attic rooms. This was dangerous if they were caught, but there was no other place to go. It had to be soon; when the mistress returned with her retinue there would be many more spying eyes around. They decided on that evening. Jack, like the other stable lads, was free of duties after supper. He would wait for them in Mary's room. With that, Mary rushed back to her duties, and Jack to his. His mind began to wander, his cock half stiffening at the thought of what was to come.

After the farrier had finished, Jack took himself off for a bath-the servants bath-house was empty and the water cold, but he didn't mind. Changing into a clean shirt and britches, he went to the house for supper. Casting an eye up the table to where Betsy sat close to Mary, he wondered if she knew what was to happen that night.

He slipped out quickly after supper, forgoing the traditional cup of strong tea with which they ended their meal. With all the other servants occupied downstairs, the house was empty and he had no trouble reaching the small attic room unseen. Curling up on the narrow hard bed, he settled down to wait for the girls.

Later, much later, after Mary and Betsy had helped with the dishes and the silverware, they found him rolled in the blankets, his face relaxed in sleep.

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