Chapter 15
"Good morning to you, Istvan," said the baroness, affably, from amid the pillows. "I called to let you know that we are going to delay our departure a day or two. Just so that you don't worry about preparations..."
Istvan looked puzzled.
The baroness said: "If you're worried about schedules, forget it. I've taken care of all that."
"Well, I do have a week or so to play with," admitted Istvan. "The boss said..."
"Never mind what he said, Istvan. I'm the boss now.
Dimly, Istvan began to comprehend. He understood even better when the baroness raised herself upon one elbow and he was witness to her nakedness, spilling exuberantly and sexually over the covers.
"You mean...?" he stammered.
The baroness smiled, mysteriously. "Exactly," she murmured. "If, that is, you haven't anything else on hand..."
It was a challenge. Istvan accepted it. He advanced upon the woman, lying back now among the pillows.
The baroness kicked the covers down toward the end of the bed. She lay, bare of covering, naked against the undersheet.
"In your gown?" she smiled, archly.
Istvan stripped his gown from his solid, masculine body. "Without it, then, Baroness?"
"But-of course!"
She lay, revealed, a woman in all her nakedness. She was a sacrifice of love, all nude, and soft femininity upon her bed.
Istvan was already in a state of semi-erection.
The baroness reached for his penis, giving it an affectionate little squeeze before she began to excite the loose skin to and fro over the glans. Globules of silvery spunk dripped from its tubetip.
"Oh, Istvan!" she moaned. "You're so much the essence of all manhood!"
Istvan smiled. "And you, madame-could any man desire more...?'*
He bore down upon his craft of sweet, delectable womanhood. He was above her now, and over her, taking the weight of his body upon his extended arms. She smiled up at him. Parting her thighs to expose her cunt to the tip of his throbbing cock, she lay spreadeagled to receive the massive penis. The heat of his corona matched the heat of her acclaiming labia. Entry was not difficult. In one easy, piercing movement, Istvan plunged his shaft deep inside the baroness's cunt.
"You may be sorry..." murmured the baroness.
"For all this? Sorry?" He bored away, probing deep inside her.
The baroness slung her legs upwards, grasping his body with her thighs. She sucked her breath in, tongue against her teeth.
"Ah, Christ I" she breathed, in delight. "How exquisite!" She savoured the full delight of it, without movement. Then she said: "But you may regret it, Istvan!"
"Shoosh!" he whispered, piercing her in sweet licentiousness. "Regret? What can I regret-about this?"
She smiled up at him.
"The fact," she said, softly, "that I'm menstruating...?"
Istvan grinned, impudently. Her bland, unexpected confession left him untouched.
"So," he said. "You're bleeding."
He ground away softly, deeply, at her deflowered cunt, the helmet of his tool already deeply impressed upon the nut of her cervix.
"And is that something to worry about?" he grinned. "So when it's all over I've got a little blood to wipe off. And, after all, blood's..."
"Just so much the more slippery, so much the more squelchy," she finished, arching her heels deep into the descending loins of her straddler, spurring him into her cunt.
Istvan increased the potency of his thrusting. He knew what was required of him.
And the baroness, hot in her morning ecstasy, thrashed her now flaying limbs upon her fucker's hips. She was a virago now.
"Fuck me, 1st van I" she commanded, wildly abandoned now. "Bore it into mel Drive it in-have me, please, as hard as you want to-as hard as you can. Hurt me! Fuck me like a peasant'd fuck a wench in a stable! Christ, but I'm tired of being fucked by society pricks. I want a man, a man, Istvan, like you to do me! Have me-deep inside me, man I Piss in it-give it to me like you give it to Althea! Give it to me-jerk it-pour it in... Ooooh, but I'm so randy, Istvan! Christ, I'm bleeding, I tell you-it's blood, blood, blood that you're fucking into! It's blood-that makes it all so beautifully exquisite. Get into that blood, Istvan-up my cunt, my quim, my twat, and right up my cervix... ooooooh!"
Hacking down with her thrashing legs, she drove him deep into her open, receptive loins. Thrashing and writhing, she came mightily and, unsatisfied, she strove to come some more.
And Istvan, riding her imperiously, unmindful of his own pleasure, gave her every opportunity. More and more forcefully he cleaved into that twitching, bloodbespattered, blood-dripping cunt beneath him. Deliriously he felt the labia grip his penis. Again and again he slapped his board-flat stomach against her belly.
And then, as her second orgasm was upon her, racking her entire body, Istvan felt his own climax approaching.
With a twitching, jetting discharge, he squirted his load deep within the hot vagina of the elegant, flop-titted woman he so imperiously bestrode.
They collapsed, he asprawl on top of her sweating body.
Many minutes later he arose. His penis was a lance of brown, drying, clotting blood. The baroness's belly was a battlefield, a gory sex-sticky battlefield of blood. Her menstrual discharge lay, clotted and thick with his semen, obscenely across her stomach. The sheets beneath her were dripping, bloodstained, gory. Istvan's prick was a sorry sight-bruised, limp and inert.
Istvan grinned down upon her. In his grin was triumph. Wordlessly, then, he donned his gown, knotted its girdle about his middle, and left.
It was thus that Althea found him, a beatific smile playing over his features, when she entered his bedroom hours later.
Before she stirred him, she gazed down upon him, sweet, possessive love in her eyes. In sleep, his gown had parted from his waist, exposing one thigh and the bare tip of his penis, a limp sinew now, dependent over the inside thigh. She came closer. On inspection, she recognised the brown discolouration of blood upon the head.
She choked down the jealousy that rose in her. She smiled.
So, she thought. He's been unfaithful, has he? What matter, if he has, then? How many times during the past week has he not, publicly and openly, demonstrated how deeply he cares for me? What if he has visited someone else? Only a quick, passing encounter-of no significance at all 1 But someone who was bleeding? A frown furrowed her forehead.
Already dressed for the day, she swiftly began to disrobe. Telltale bloodsmears at the crotch of her panties bespoke her own condition.
Then, nude and all sweet womanly loveliness, she came at her sleeping lover. She slid down beside him. With fingers whose ministrations he knew so well she felt for his limp penis, caressing the warmth of it with practised movements. They raised, at once, the response she craved.
Istvan awoke.
He reached, instinctively, for her body, finding it deliriously naked, and warm to his caresses. Beneath his moving fingers her nipples grew into hard little nuts of desire, her breasts expanded, her buttocks quivered.
"Althea!" he sighed, happily. "Oh, Althea!"
"Istvan!" she breathed, nestling closer to the contours of his bronzed body.
"My woman!" he breathed into her ear, tweaking it deliriously.
"Your woman!" she breathed.
In a second, Istvan had torn his gown from his body. He came at her.
As he prepared for entry, she whispered: "But I'm bleeding, Istvan."
Istvan threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Bleeding!" he* echoed, enraptured as he felt his rod slide home into her cylinder. "All my life, darling-I should have the joy of sliding into bleeding cunts. God -if you only knew!" .
She, knowing full well of what he spoke, wordlessly splayed her thighs.
Into them, and between them, and down into the tunnel, Istvan bore down, down into the blood-oozing depths of her vagina.
He felt Althea's orgasm approaching. He pressed inwards, cramming her body savagely into his iron-hard torso as he did so, thrashing her with his furious attack.
Althea came. She shot, rigid, into spasm. She drenched him with her feminine discharges. Beneath him she writhed, savagely seeking more.
Istvan was aroused as furiously as he had ever been. Into the blood-oiled vagina he bored, tearing at the body of the Greek girl he loved.
He came.
He came mightily. Into the heavenly cleft between those thighs he poured every ounce of his manhood, his penis throbbing within her clutching cunt.