Chapter 3
The Baroness de Bierli received them in her study, offering them armagnac, and setting them at ease with a charming, spontaneous affability. As they sipped the golden velvet of the brandy, the baroness inquired about their journey from Lucerne, listening entranced to the description of their nomad existence on the roads of Europe.
"Forgive me, Madame," he said, "but is it permitted we be informed of your plans? I'm afraid that so far I'm rather in the dark about this trip. Haven't even been given an itinerary.''
The baroness smiled.
"In good time," she said. "I don't want to be committed to time schedules. I detest them. But the route will be roughly from here down to Venice, then on to Rome, up the west coast of Italy, across to Cannes, and from there up north to a chateau near Montelimardo you know the place?"
"Where the nougat comes from?" Istvan grinned.
Quickly, Istvan'* trained mind visualised the route as if it had been mentally superimposed on his maps. Two thousand miles. Ten days. Say about two hundred miles a day. Nobody could call that strenuous travelling. And, if the baroness chose to operate on no time schedule, who was he to object? He smiled his acceptance.
"And now, I expect, you'll be wanting to change and freshen up a bit?" asked the baroness, solicitously.
She rang for the footman, who took Althea and Istvan in a tiny elevator to the fourth of the five floors in the baroness's mansion. There they were allocated bedrooms.
Opening the door of his apartment, Istvan found a chambermaid bustling about the bed, setting out the pyjamas from his valise which had already been brought up by some lackey.
"Wonderful!" he beamed. "This looks very comfortable."
The maid paused in her work and looked at Istvan expectantly.
"But of course, M'sieur," she replied. "It is the wish of Madame that you should have everything."
She was French, then. He had expected her to speak in German. He asked her about it.
"But no," she replied, blushing. "I am Austrian. But I 'ave live long in France, too."
"I see," said Istvan. "Tell me-a bath? Would that be possible?"
The maid indicated a connecting door.
"Through there, sir. Shall I run the water?"
"If you would."
As the chambermaid opened the bathroom door, Istvan could already heard the gurgle of water from open faucets.
He began to undress. He laid his soiled clothes over a chair, and set out the fresh suit, shirt and accessories he would wear that evening. Then, naked, whistling a snatch of song, he opened the door of the bathroom, catching his breath in surprise to find Althea already luxuriating in the water he bad thought would have been his.
"Kee-rist!" he exclaimed. "You?"
"Kee-rist!" she mimicked right back. "You. too? But come in. The water's fine. Looks like we share the bathroom-my own room's through there." She gestured to a door on the other side of the bathroom. She grinned, impudently. "You have any objections?*'
Istvan was about to reply when the maid came in again -through the door to Althea's room this time.
"What do you want?" asked Istvan, curt now after the succession of surprises.
The maid seemed totally unperturbed at the nudity of the splendidly-formed woman in the bath, or at the man standing, stark naked, before her.
"It is our duty, sir, to see that Madame's guests have every comfort. I forgot to mention that this particular bathroom is shared, sir." She stood, faintly apologetic, awaiting a reaction.
Althea, noting Istvan's momentary loos of composure, pressed home wickedly.
"So?" she said quickly. "If that's your duty-to render every service like you say-what are you standing around for? Can't you see that the gentleman needs a service?"
She arched an eyebrow meaningfully in the direction of Istvan's penis.
"If that is the Madame's wish," said the Austrian girl, docilely.
Turning to a closet, she proceeded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to divest herself of her black uniform. Beneath the uniform she wore black panties and a black, lacy brassiere. These she stripped off in a trice, and turned to ease black, silken stockings from their suspender-clips. Her ample if peasant nudity was revealed in all its pink and rosy loveliness.
Istvan's prick leaped into full and violent erection. Althea lay back exultantly in her bath.
"My God!" Istvan swore softly. "The things that happen..." He threw a helpless look at his shapely courier, lying indolently back in her bath.
"Well?" she flung back at him. "Get on with it, for God's sake! What are you waiting for? For her to make the first pass-at you?"
Stung by the taunt, Istvan swung into action.
He advanced upon the by now far from reluctant chambermaid, and began to fondle her generous, somewhat pendulous breasts. He neared her body so that the tip of his lance brushed against the curly mass of hair below her belly. The glazed look in the girl's eyes was unmistakeable...
"What's your name?" he whispered.
"Karen, sir," was all she could whisper back, forcing her swollen nipples into his caresses, and arching her hips toward the throbbing cock at her crotch. She moved her hands to force the amplitude of her tits into his caress.
"And oh, sir," she breathed, "please have them! They ache so, now, for you-right this minute!"
"Here, then, Karen," he said, gently. And he ground his mighty erection into her thighs as he strove and strained towards her.
"Aaah-h-h!" she cried, rutting in sudden desire. And she clutched with hot hands at his throbbing staff, seeking to guide it between the lips of her cunt, already agape between her parted thighs as she stood on tiptoe to receive his battering-ram into her quim.
Entry was not difficult. This Karen, thought Istvan, had taken her full share of mighty cocks, that was sure. She was a fountain of slush. Istvan's massive organ disappeared almost at once, swallowed up to the hilt in that black forest.
The sight of the woman's tits flattened against the massive chest of the man she now knew that she loved proved too much for Althea. Excited beyond all power to control herself at the sight of her lover's possession of the Austrian girl's body, she leaped from the bath.
"So!" she screamed, a virago now. "Fuck the maid, would you! Take me literally? And what's the matter with me, then? You bastard, Istvan! You swine! And after what I did for you, this very afternoon! Then, if you won't fuck me-at least you'll suck me. That, I swear, you'll do!"
Istvan grinned as he listened to Althea's tirade. ' She was like that. It was a peculiarity that endeared her to him-her inclination to mouth obscenities when sexually aroused.
Althea advanced upon the copulating couple. She clawed and fought them to a lying position on the floor of the bathroom with the chambermaid's thighs splayed to receive Istvan's grinding hips. And then, dripping wet, she knelt before bis face' thrusting forward the black bush of her cum.
"Suck me!" she screamed. "Go on! Suck me! Give it to her in the cunt if you have to! Any fucking man can do that! To any fucking girl too. But it takes a real woman to get a man to suck her off! Most damned men are too lily-livered to suck a cunt. Think it stinks. Think it has a fucking disease, or something. But you, you bastard-you'll suck me. Yes, you will! Oooh-h-h-hhooooh!" And the moaning, sobbing, lust-crazed girl fell back upon her outstretched arms as she felt the tongue of Istvan probing around the tender area of her clitoris.
Without ceasing his reaming of the bowels of the chambermaid beneath him, he began, viciously almost, to draw out Althea's clitoris from its sheath, between her labia. Streams of her spunk poured over his face as he buried his tongue deep within her twat and Althea, now wild with desire, arched forwards deliriously to that darting, licking tongue and Istvan's sucking lips enveloping the entire maw of her gaping cunt.
The chambermaid was beginning now to twitch in the spasm of her approaching climax. Now it was no longer the blonde Swiss who was boring into her, it was she who was arching her spine to thrust fiercely at each incoming inroad of that mighty tool skewering away inside her. Istvan was doing the best he could to meet her furious demands on his questing masculinity. But he found difficulty in breathing, even, the way the furious Althea was hammering her hairy cunt at bis mouth-as if she were determined to scrape her very vulva over his teeth to derive the last possible ounce of sexual satisfaction from her man.
Suddenly she writhed mightily and Istvan felt as if his tongue were being uprooted, the way her cunt seemed to cling to it. And in that moment she drenched his whole face with the massive volume of her ejaculation. Istvan grinned. Let her come-let her spend, he thought. When all this is over, it's the sucking shell remember, more than his fucking of Karen!' He gave her all she was seeking, and more. And, feeling Karen unable to keep up the pace any longer as she, too, spent breathlessly and demcntedly beneath him, he redoubled the ferocity of his onslaught, suddenly feeling his own discharge coming, bounding down his spine until he shot his load deeply into the warm, wet, receptive cunt into which he seemed bored, balls and all, up to the very hips of him. Shot after shot of vital sperm he jetted into the Austrian, who rolled and writhed and moaned beneath him in such a fury that he marvelled how she was physically able to endure it. And as he fucked, he sucked-until the pain grew too much for Althea. Spent, and far beyond the power of coming any more, she flailed at him with her powerful arms, beating at his forehead, trying to thrust his face away from her crotch. But the strength of Istvan, now, was something she had never before encountered. The more she thrust him away, the more he came at her, salivating with the load of her discharge all over his face. She could not rid herself of him. She struggled. She beat at him. She screamed. If she did not force him off her twat that very instant, she would die! But the more she struggled and tore at him, and howled in her agony, the more he sucked-at the same time as he plunged, again and again, ever deeper and deeper, into the vagina of the sobbing, slavering, fainting chambermaid skewered beneath his powerful, pulsating, twitching loins.
And as he fucked away, Istvan thought, exultantly, Let the bitches mock at me-me, Istvan Lavoipierrel Be daunted by women? Me? No-no, no! Ill fuck them both out of sight. Ill fuck them and suck them, fainted, dead or demented before they can humiliate me!
And then, becoming suddenly tender in his victory over both of them, he thought: But ah, sweet Christ, what wonderful women they are! What breasts! What huge, glorious, generous breasts-especially the white-titted, rose-underlaid, brown-nippled bosoms of Althea! Nor were the pendulous, full, sagging mammoths of Karen to be denied their glory I If she were married, there'd be little left for her husband this day, he gloated. And, from the volume of sperm he had jetted into her, there'd be every chance of a pregnancy!
On he fucked until finally they both swooned away beneath the might of his simultaneous attack.
And Istvan arose then, majestically stepping over the recumbent forms of the two women, used and obscene and grotesque now in defeat.