Chapter 1
MARLEYHEAD-NOVEMBER, 1776
The seas were as white as a cotton field, whipped up to a fury by a frigid wind blowing down off the Greenland ice caps-implacable, menacing, disturbing ... breathing and heaving like something alive and in torment.
From her third story window, Elizabeth Mason stared across the already winter-browned lawn of Marleyhead Manor toward the raging Irish sea and the North Atlantic. Everyone said it would be a harsh winter, all the signs and portents pointed to it. And so far, even though winter officially was still a month away, the seers had been right. It was already harsh; and the months to come, if they lived up to their precursors, would be too terrible to contemplate.
Elizabeth hated it. She hated it because, essentially, she was an outdoors woman. If she had been home-in America-she could have borne it with fortitude. But here, on the desolate west coast of England, she felt as though she were a prisoner, a captive in a tower. And spring seemed to be two forevers away.
Unable to bear the silent cries of despair echoing through her troubled mind, Elizabeth tried to return to the crocheting mother had insisted she do to keep mind off what had happened, but it was only a moment before she lowered the needles, got up with one smooth lithesome movement, and went closer to the windows. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the darkness was gathering outside, being hastened by the scudding clouds that moved like a heavy pale of smoke across the rugged Lancashire coast.
In one way, the voluptuous nineteen year-old blonde welcomed the approaching night because the desolateness of the outside world would be mercifully blotted out. In another more terrible way, however, she dreaded to see nightfall, for with it would come the necessity for sleep ... and sleep would bring back the dreams.
That really was what was troubling her, she freely admitted it to herself. The dreams! Hot, delicious, naughty, terribly exciting ... forbidden! What triggered them she would not say, all Elizabeth knew was that they sprang from some hitherto hidden Charybdis of her own tortured soul.
And they were practically all the same!
William and she. In bed! William kissing her with an increasing frenzy as his long hard penis fucked in and out of her wildly spasming cunt. She always awakened just as his male organ grew hotter and harder and then began ejaculating his scalding white semen deep up inside her gratefully receiving womb. And always upon awakening, she imagined she could still feel him pulsating deep in her vagina ... always that, to be followed moments later by an indescribable longing and hunger that haunted her loins for the rest of the restless night. She felt that if the erotic dreams continued, she would go mad!
Elizabeth's troubled brown eyes studied her reflected image in the window. Her breasts, always full and firm, seemed these days to be almost swollen under the tight bodice of her blue satin gown. The fleshy cleavage between them was certainly fuller and deeper than it had been when she and her parents had embarked from New York earlier in the spring. A trim waist that flared out into undeniably feminine hips-not big hips, but exceedingly sensuous. And beneath the clinging satin gown were out-lined long thighs and legs that made her seem taller and more regal than she actually was. Around her slender neck she wore a black velvet ribbon which held a small cameo-locket that dangled enticingly just above her cleavage. Another ribbon, also of black velvet, was tied in a bow holding up her swept-back thick blonde hair. She had the high cheek bones of a Slav, the wide generous mouth of a Scandinavian woman, the grace of a ballet dancer, and the sprit of a woman who refuses to be dominated by man or events.
Billingslee, the court painter, had openly declared at Lord Burton's party a month ago that Madame Elizabeth Mason "one of the most paintable females" he had ever seen. His eyes devouring her sleek, breathtaking curves, had also carried the message that he felt she was one of the "most sexually arousing" women as well: it was almost as though he sensed the steaming cauldron up between her legs, the deeply running tide of sensuality that flowed like a liquid fire from heaven in her veins.
Elizabeth was not unaware of her attraction to men. In some small way she was grateful to them for their admiring glances, even though they were being rude and ungentlemanly.
After all, she had been a widow less than fifteen months!
Absent-mindedly she reached up and fingered the cameo brooch. The locket contained a miniature portrait of William Mason, her husband, smiling that one particular smile of his, handsome and so full of life at twenty-six ... and oh, so dead at twenty-seven with a British musket ball between his eyes. No, she didn't need the locket to remember her husband. And she didn't need the dream, either!
Elizabeth blinked as she heard a knock on the door, and then called out, "Come in."
A saucy redheaded Irish girl about Elizabeth's age flounced into the room, her dun-colored maid's uniform unable to hide or diminish the obvious delights of her own petite little body.
"Evening, Mistress Mason," she called out in her Irish brogue.
"Good evening, Jill," Elizabeth answered, smiling warmly at the girl. Lord, she's as friendly as a puppy, and about as well-mannered. But then, what do manners have to do with a person's basic humanness! the blonde wondered.
It was obvious, from the way that she positively bubbled over, that Jill was excited about something. Probably, Elizabeth thought, a new boy friend or another juicy morsel of gossip. The Irish girl attracted men and gossip like a dog does fleas. She was impudent and incorrigible, but so very endearing in her demeanor that Elizabeth considered her the closest friend she had in England.
"Did ye hear?" Jill asked, her green eyes sparkling.
"Hear what?"
"The young masters are coming home," she declared, clapping her hands together. "First Ethan. He'll be here this weekend. And Master Robin has just arrived in Halifax from America. He'll be here with his lordship's brother, the Admiral, within a fortnight. Isn't it exciting?"
"Oh, yes. Quite," Elizabeth answered solemnly.
Jill inspected her through eyes that had suddenly become determined. Finally she pursed her lips and nodded. "Do ye mind if my tongue wags a bit, Mistress Elizabeth?"
The American widow dimpled in spite of herself, then replied in a mock Irish brogue, "And to be sure, if I objected, would it matter?"
Jill shook her red hair back and forth, and Elizabeth continued, "I thought not. Well, then, go on with it. What is it that makes your tongue want to wag so?"
The little Irish maid took a deep breath and then took the plunge. "I'm glad for you that the young masters are coming home. You need a man."
"Jill! How dare you...." Elizabeth's face suddenly flared a bright red in embarrassment.
"Ye said I could speak, Mistress, and the good Lord forgive me, I shall. You are a woman, and a woman needs a man. Last night, when I came in to make sure your fire wood had not died, you were asleep ... and you were moaning."
Elizabeth turned sharply away from her. "I don't want to hear any more."
Jill's shoulders slumped. Her chin was trembling, partly from emotion and partly from the sheer fright of her audacity at speaking so frankly to this American girl who was a guest in Lord Burton's Manor. In spite of her fear, however, she sensed the strong bond of affection that Elizabeth had for her-and it was certainly reciprocated-so she continued, only now with an unsteady voice and a lowered head. "I went back to me room and wept for you."
Elizabeth whirled, angry now. "I don't want your tears or your advice."
Jill swallowed loudly, then backed across the room. There was a mist of tears in her eyes when she curtsied and then dashed out the door.
Elizabeth stood motionless for a long time, then took a deep sigh and rubbed her face with her hands. Her own emotions bothered her. Jill was right, undeniably so. I do need a man, a man in bed with me, she mused. So why am I so upset at Jill? Is it because she is just a maid?
Self-deception was something Elizabeth had never practiced, and she correctly analyzed what was wrong. She was acting like a haughty aristocratic bitch! She was upset because a mere maid had presumed to give her advice!
"All right," she said aloud. "Now Mistress Elizabeth, suppose you get yourself down stairs and apologize to that poor girl. She was only trying to befriend you." Quickly then, before she could change her mind, she went out the door. She was halfway downstairs before she realized another thing that was troubling her. Jill had come into her room last night when she had been dreaming about William. Jill had obviously recognized the lewd content of her dream. What term had the Irish girl used? Oh yes, "moaning". Well, Elizabeth hadn't been moaning in her sleep, she had been begging William to fuck harder ... and somehow she was positive that she must have used that language out loud. So Jill had seen and heard all! The thought of the redheaded maid standing silently there in the shadows of the room watching her as she thrashed in abandon and murmured lewd entreaties suddenly was an exciting thing ... a kind of lascivious gnawing excitement that pulsed and quivered in her suddenly moistening vagina. What would it be like to have a third person standing beside the bed when a man was making love to her?
The thought was so startling, her arousal such a revelation, that she almost turned and retraced her steps to the safety of her sitting room. As it was, she remained motionless until her quivering ceased. Only then did she continue downstairs to the lower level where she knew the maid's room was located.
Although the Irish girl's door was open, Jill was nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth thought for a moment, then decided against going to the kitchen. No, she would apologize here on the girl's own grounds; it would be easier for both of them that way.
She studied the room. It was bleak, a hole in the wall compared to her own luxurious sitting room suite up on the third floor. A religious picture hung above the Irish girl's bed, and there was a large blue trunk pushed up next to a window that overlooked the back of the house and the vegetable garden. In spite of the austerity of the room, Jill's piquant personality had manifested itself. There, on the bed post just below the picture of Christ on the cross, was a garland of dry straw flowers. On the other bed post hung a straw hat with a long blue ribbon. The door to the closet was ajar, so Elizabeth opened it and walked inside-knowing that she was probably being too curious for politeness. The closet itself looked as if had been used for something else at one time-perhaps a pantry. It was surprisingly large with a high ceiling and on the wall near the door was a candle holder containing three long white candles. The size of the closet made Jill's belongings look even smaller. The girl had only three dresses ... two of them made of a cheap blue linen, the other an out-of-style yellow silk that looked as though it had been handed down from Lady Burton or a guest. There was one extra dun-colored uniform and two pair of work shoes, no dancing slippers, no party shoes.
Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, studying the sparse belongings of the Irish girl. She felt a great need to do something nice for the maid, perhaps share a gown or two with her. And most certainly, that yellow silk dress deserved a pair of yellow slippers.
Finishing her inspection, Elizabeth had already turned toward the closet door and was preparing to walk out when she heard Jill's voice. She flushed. Oh God, what could she say to the Irish girl? Being caught snooping in the closet like this was simply too embarrassing to contemplate. Her momentary hesitation destroyed any chance she had of escaping undetected, for a second later, she heard Lord Burton's unmistakable voice, and the sound of the outside hallway door closing.
"Are you to keep the master of the household waiting like a common lackey?"
And Jill's reply, coy and giggling, "Waiting, your Lordship wait? Hah! You wait like the bull that you are."
"Oh ... you impudent, cheeky little bitch. I've half a mind to take a rod to you."
"Oh, sir! And will it be the same rod you used on me Monday?"
"What?"
"This big hard rod here, milord, between your legs."
Elizabeth gasped and blushed in the dimness of the closet as she unavoidably overheard the lewd conversation. Lord Burton's loud groan was scandalous and the American widow's knees suddenly felt weak as she heard the master of Marleyhead Manor say, "Unfasten the buttons, you impish Irish wench, and pull him out."
Oh my God, Elizabeth thought. I've never heard anything so obscene in my entire life. And yet, "obscene" or not, the hidden blonde girl was all too aware of her own growing excitement. A drumbeat of passion was beginning to pound in her wetly quivering vagina and, although she attempted to stay away from the partially opened closet door, she still found herself tiptoeing toward the crack in order to see what was going on.
There, less than ten feet away, standing at the foot of the bed, were Jill and Lord Burton. The Irish maid was using both hands to expertly unfasten the front of the older man's britches. Even as Elizabeth watched the petite redhead unsnapped the bottom button, and her little hand reached boldly inside the gaping material.
Lord Burton tottered and groaned again as Jill pulled out his thick rigid cock. Elizabeth's eyes widened as she saw the virilely throbbing shaft exposed. Good Lord, he was built like a bull! She stared, hardly breathing, as Jill giggled and began stroking the heavy foreskin up and down the stiffened, blue-veined shaft. The older man stood, booted feet apart, using one hand on the bedpost to support himself, as the maid's fingers tightened on his pulsating rod of male flesh and pulled the foreskin down as far as it would go, exposing the swollen, angry red head of his cock.
Jill grinned knowingly up at him. "Feel good?"
"You know it does, you teasing little bitch."
"The way he's jerking in my hand, I do think he's trying to get away."
"He's trying to get inside that hot little cunny of yours once more."
From her vantage point, Elizabeth could see that the Irish maid obviously was getting excited as well. The redhead's breath was coming more rapidly now, and her bosom fell and rose irregularly under the tight bodice of her uniform as her encircled fingers stroked up and down on the throbbing hot penis of her employer.
"Feel good?" Jill repeated.
"Ummmmmmmm, yes! You pump him like you know what you're doing. I suppose you do it for Jack and Peter, and Tom, and all the other panting lads."
Jill dimpled. "Perhaps."
"And what else do you do for them?"
"That's all." She shook her red hair back and forth for emphasis. "Sure and if I'm to have someone's bastard, it'll be yours."
"But you've done this much for them?"
"A time or two ... but nothing else."
"All right then. That's a sweet lass. Keep it always hot and ready for me. You'll have no cause, ever, to regret it." He reached over and encircled her tiny waist with his left arm. "And now, let us see this delightful little cunny which you're preserving for the master."
Jill giggled and playfully slapped his chest, then squealed in girlish delight as his big hand dropped and cupped her pubic mound from outside her uniform. "I've a surprise for ye," she said.
"What? You're with bastard?"
"No, don't play the fool! The surprise is that I knew ye were coming to me room ... and I prepared for it." Elizabeth saw the Irish girl use her free hand to reach down and forced his fingers up underneath her skirt.
Lord Burton guffawed. "Strike me dead! No pantaloons. Just hair ... and, oh yes, there's that hot little cunny...."
The touch of his hand against her naked vaginal flesh seemed to inflame the maid. She moaned and her pelvis whipped back and forth against his caressing fingers. Elizabeth saw her eyes roll up in her head as she began wantonly scraping her breasts against his elbow.
"Do it," Jill whispered. "Put him in me. Now! Please, Milord. Now?"
"Right! Lift your skirt and bend over the bed railing there. I'll take you standing up today."
The eavesdropping American widow gasped out loud as she saw Lord Burton fumbling with his britches, and a moment later they dropped down around his knees. His muscular buttocks were nakedly exposed right in front of her. Her lewd excitement flamed even higher, however, when she saw Jill grasp her uniform skirt at the hem and raise it up to uncover her auburn-haired pussy. As the older man shuffled forward, the Irish maid obediently bent forward over the bed railing, which forced her white unblemished ass-cheeks high into the air.
From Elizabeth's vantage point she could see Jill spreading her knees further apart to expose the fleshy pink cuntal lips up between her legs. From a distance it looked as if they were wet, fevered, inflamed!
Lord Burton reached forward and used both hands to raise her naked buttocks up higher, then he bent his knees slightly and positioned his visibly pulsating penis at the gaping mouth of the young girl's pussy.
"Now reach back and put him in that tight little cunny for me," the older man ordered.
Oh God, the trembling American girl thought. He's going to do it to her. He's actually going to stick that big huge shaft of his up inside her. The poor child will never be able to take it. No woman could!
The salacious scene had turned her legs to water, and Elizabeth was forced to reach out toward the wall to support herself. She stiffened in fright and almost screamed when she touched something long and hard ... it felt almost like a penis. Then she shuddered and sighed in relief; it was only one of the candles from the candle holder. Automatically her fingers closed around; it did feel an awful lot like William's cock used to feel. Not as thick, of course, nor as velvety or as hot ... but surprisingly real.
Then, her imagination on fire, it was no longer William's penis she was holding, but Lord Burton's. And the Master of Marleyhead Manor was about to put his warmly pulsating hardness up inside of her love-starved cunt instead of Jill!
In her mind now, it was she bending over the bed railing, her blue satin skirt lewdly bunched up around her waist, her naked ass-cheeks stuck up high in the air, brazen and inviting, waiting for that big thick penis to slowly slide up inside her belly from behind.
Jill reached back and lovingly used her thumb and forefinger to guide the hotly throbbing shaft toward the wet fevered opening of her pussy. Then, quivering in anticipation, she wiggled her buttocks a bit until the swollen head of his cock had been surrounded by her hair-rimmed pussy lips and was nudging the hole leading up into her womb.
The little Irish maid's voice was so lust-constricted that it was almost incoherent as she panted, "Now ... shove him in me. Now!"
"Here it comes, you little bitch!" Elizabeth saw Lord Burton's ass-cheeks flex and his powerful thigh muscles ripple; then, with one forward thrust of his hips, he drove his huge, blue-veined shaft deep into the eagerly squealing girl's slippery cuntal sheath.
"Aaaagggggggggghhhhhhhh," Jill cried, bracing herself on her elbows, her head at an angle on the mattress so she could look back and see his warmly pulsating penis sliding up into her vagina. "Oh ... ohhhhhhhhh. So hot ... so hard."
"Cunt ... beautiful cunt. Tight. Hot ... cunt," Lord Burton panted hoarsely as he began fucking in and out of the wetly heated confines of the maid's tight young pussy. "I'm going to screw that little cunny of yours until you think you've been mounted by a stallion."
"Yes ... oh yes, milord. Do it. Do it to me."
Her shame at eavesdropping had long since evaporated under the raging inferno within her own loins, and Elizabeth now watched avidly, her breath coming in short puppy dog-like pants as she saw the deliriously moaning Irish maid rotating her hips to scrap every vaginal nerve ending against the wetly glistening cockshaft that was fucking in and out of her widespread legs from behind. The young American widow had no control over her thoughts, nor of her shamelessly aroused body. In her mind she longed to be a part of that salacious spectacle; she wanted Lord Burton's penis to be fucking her until she came. She needed relief. Oh God! She had to have relief or she would die.
Of their own volition, her fingers dropped to the front of her blue satin gown, and she furiously pulled the hem up and tucked it out of the way in the tight waistband of her long-legged pantaloons that came down like a pair of knickers just below the kneecap. In the dim recesses of her mind, she knew she was doing wrong, but her arousal burned so fiercely in her wetly excited cunt that she quickly silenced the still small voice of guilt.
Her fingers were shaking so badly that it seemed to take an eternity to unfasten the little row of pearl buttons that secured the crotch opening to her undergarment. There were still six or seven buttons to be loosened when, overcome by a mindless impatience, she simply yanked at the material and the buttons popped loose and fell to the floor like broken teeth.
She sighed passionately and quivered in delight as her fingers slid across her wetly steaming vaginal lips sending a jolt of forbidden pleasure radiating outward through her belly. Mesmerized by her own obscene actions, she stared down at her partially uncovered pubic mound. A thick golden profusion of pussy hair peeked from the opening of her pantaloons, but she wanted to see more. Quickly, then, Elizabeth spread her knees and used both hands to pull the crotch opening wider. Extending the middle finger of her right hand, she began sliding it up and down the wet sensitive furrow of her quivering pussy. Oh god, she thought, her eyelids fluttering in pleasure, has anything ever felt so good before? That was a stupid thing to think and she knew it. A cock would feel much better, a long hard cock! Only then would she have the relief she so badly needed.
Jill's moans and Lord Burton's groans were becoming louder and more lewd with each punishing stroke he made into her tightly clasping pussy. Even so, Elizabeth was sure the obscenely fucking couple would hear her ragged breath and the loud drum-like pounding of her heart.
Like someone who has taken leave of her senses, the young American blonde began slipping her fingers up and down her heated cuntal slit trying to bring about her own release. Instinctively knowing that she wasn't doing enough, she inserted her middle finger deep up inside the wet slippery channel of her fire-filled cunt and began fucking it in and out. A second later, she added a second finger ... then a third! In her motions, she swayed off balance.
That's when she brushed against the candleholder once more and remembered her earlier thoughts about one of the long white candles feeling like a male's penis!
The audacity of what she was thinking almost banked the undulating fires in her hotly aroused pussy. Then, before she could change her mind, she grabbed the candle, squatted and spread her knees out wide. The crotchband to her pantaloons was stretched now, gaping open without help. When she looked down, she could plainly see the wetly gleaming lips of her cunt and the reddened tip of her clitoris peering out of her corn-silk pussy hair. She held her breath and watched, with eyes that were big and as brown as chestnuts, as her right hand slowly brought the long white candle into position up between her legs.
It was two inches away now from her gaping cuntal mouth, and she was dimly aware that she was using the knobbed end of the candle ... the knob made it look even more like a prick.
It came closer ... closer. Now it was brushing against her golden pubic hair, then the tip disappearing into her nest.
She stifled a moan when she felt the first delicious contact of the candle against her quivering vaginal lips. Then she was unable to silence her small cry of pleasure as the knobbed end slid just inside her tight cuntal opening.
It does ... it does feel like a penis, she thought deliriously. Not as thick, but hard ... Oh ... Oh ... Oh so wonderful. Fuck me, darling.
She felt the hard wax candle going deeper and deeper up into her wetly welcoming pussy passage, and she kept pushing it in until her encircling thumb and forefinger were pressing against her pubic hair. Then, her mouth laxly open, her breath coming loudly, she began slowly withdrawing the artificial cock. Four inches later, she stopped, then pushed it back up inside her belly again.
In her mind now, the candle was a long hard penis which was beginning to fuck in and out of her rejoicing cuntal channel. She watched as it pumped rhythmically in and out of the little hole up between her legs, and she could see the dull white color beginning to shine as her vaginal juices coated the phallic instrument. Oh yes ... I'm fucking too. I'm fucking too ... she silently chanted, as she increased the lewd tempo.
An unusually loud groan from Lord Burton came from the bedroom, and Elizabeth without changing her rhythm-craned her neck to see what was happening.
In the other room, Jill had reached back between her widespread legs and was gently squeezing the older man's leathery scrotum and balls. The very lewdness of the sight only increased the American widow's shameless excitement. Jill's upraised ass-cheeks were rotating wildly now as the thick, moistly gleaming shaft of Lord Burton's cock slid in and out of her pussy. Elizabeth watched in astonishment and envy as she saw the force of his strokes; with each inward thrust, the Master of Marleyhead Manor's heels left the floor and he stood on tiptoe to ram his punishing instrument as far as it would go into the Irish maid's urgently gyrating cunt.
"Oooooohhhhhhhh ... harder, harder," Jill wailed. "I'm going to ... I'm going to...."
"Yes ... yessssssssss," Lord Burton said. "Me too."
Oh God, they're going to cum, Elizabeth thought, and even as she phmsed the words in her mind, Jill began screaming, "I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Harder ... harder. Fuck harder...."
Elizabeth's hand was just a blur between her widespread knees now as she sawed the long white candle in and out of her love-starved pussy with a growing fury. She could feel the first, far-off rumblings of her own release, and she wanted to climax simultaneously with the lewdly fucking couple in the bedroom. She glanced down momentarily, feeling a wild excitement, as she saw her pouting pink vaginal lips clinging lovingly to the wax candle on each withdrawal stroke, before they were thrust back inside her pussy on the instroke. Then the dam broke over the top of her as she heard Lord Burton's cry of obscene delight, "I'm cumming! Here it comes, lass. A big load of hot cum right up inside that tight little cunny of yours ... Aaaagggghhhh."
"Aaaaeeeeeiiiiieeeeee," Jill screamed in joy as she felt the first heated blast of his sperm ejaculate inside her wildly spasming cunt. Then his huge jerking instrument was spewing out spurt after spurt of white hot cum, filling her belly and gushing out of her cuntal mouth to stream in a silver river down her quivering inner thighs.
"Uuhhhhhhhh," Elizabeth shuddered once, then drove the candle in as deep as she could as her orgasm shook her with all the violence of a killer quake. She knew she was moaning out loud, but as the delicious tremors rippled through her candle-filled pussy, she didn't care. Let Lord Burton and Jill come in and fine me like this. Let them know how lewd I am. Let Lord Burton know what a whore I am, how I hunger so for a man that I must use a candle in my cunt ... maybe he'll take pity on me, and fuck me.
And that salacious thought triggered another cataclysmic convulsion inside her belly and she came again. Finally, the sensations fading, she sat down weakly on the floor of the dark closet, her head bowed and her stricken eyes staring at the long white candle still deeply embedded in her cunt.
In the other room, Lord Burton pulled up his pants and shook his head in admiration. "That was delicious, lass. I've not had a fuck like that since ... since...."
"Last Monday," Jill said pertly.
"Ah, yes ... last Monday. It seems to get better every time I fuck that sweet little cunny of yours."
"And how do you know it's sweet?"
Lord Burton threw back his head and laughed uproariously, "You never get enough do you? Well, I've no time for cunt licking this afternoon. This blasted wind has made hunting almost impossible, and Ethan is coming home. Tom and I are going after a stag and a boar before it grows too dark."
Jill fished under the pillow of her bed and pulled out a handkerchief which she used to daub up between her legs.
"You really filled me this time," she said, trying to staunch the heavy stream of jism pouring from her cunt. "I'll be surprised if I'm not with child."
"Just so long as it's mine, wench." He stared at her speculatively and scratched his mutton chops. "I'd not like you to be fooling around with the help."
Jill stared at him candidly for a moment, then a soft smile crossed her face. "The others. I wouldn't know, ye know, but I think they're not half the man you are, your Lordship. I'm contented as a heifer in a spinach patch."
Lord Burton seemed pleased, and there was a definite affection in the little love slap he made on her naked buttocks.
"Yeeeooowww," the Irish maid cried, her lips in a mock pout.
"That'll let you know that I'm serious. No other cock gets near that cunny. Understand?"
"Yes, milord."
"Fine," he beamed, then strode to the door. He had unlocked the bolt when Jill called out, "You'll tell the young masters of course."
He spun and thundered, "What?"
"Well, sir, they do have your blood. Like father-like son, so's they say."
The older man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And what do you mean by that, you impertinent little wench?"
"Young Ethan wrote me a poem the last time he was here about how lonely and cold his bed is."
"And?"
Jill dimpled and shook her head. "No, sir. I didn't go to him."
Lord Burton's glare softened momentarily, then hardened again as if he had suddenly thought of something. "And he didn't come to you?"
The Irish maid's redhead shook back and forth, "But, faith, for sure, I'll not be able to fight both Master Ethan and Master Robin if they put their heads together to seduce me."
"Damn me. If I catch either of those two young studs sniffing after you, I'll stuff them so full of salt-peter they'll be eunuch for months to come."
"Yes, milord," Jill said, and curtsied, then giggled.
Lord Burton studied her for a moment, then chuckled with her. "They are chips off the old block, aren't they?" he said, obvious pride in his voice.
Jill watched the older man leave the room. She stood there for a moment, feeling a euphoria that comes only from having been royally screwed. There was a tiny pang of guilt about the lie she had told Lord Burton. Master Ethan had come to her room. But she had told the truth; they hadn't fucked ... not actually. But Ethan had a most delightful tongue, and he had said she had a mouth like soft honeyed butter....
The Irish girl sighed with the memory, then shook herself to reality. There was work to be done, and somehow she had to make up to Mistress Elizabeth for her impertinence earlier in the afternoon. She walked out of her room toward the kitchen, trying to look more energetic than she felt.
Slowly then, Elizabeth emerged from the closet. Her blonde hair was slightly disheveled, her face aflame with shame at the lewd, unforgivable way she had acted. Her guilt grew as she went across the room and ran quickly upstairs, because with each step she took she could feel the wet, sensual slipperiness of her vaginal lips scraping against each other, sending new and even more urgent tingles of carnal hunger rippling through her loins....
Ethan arrived late Saturday afternoon just as gray sullen skies began spitting out the first snow of the season. He was accompanied by a man-servant in a pony cart which contained several trunks and a hogshead of Maderia which he claimed to have won in a card game in London.
"Actually," he explained over dinner that night to the fifteen guests his father had hastily called together from around the local area, "I won two hogsheads, but I gave one to Jamie Boswell. London will be cold this winter; I suspect the poor devil will put it to good use."
The Vicar said, "I understand your new play was well received."
Ethan glanced at him, then threw back his head and laughed. "Vicar ... you'll never go to heaven if you keep fibbing like that."
And from the other end of the table, Lady Sutton chided, "Now ... now, Ethan. You write beautifully! You're being much too harsh on yourself."
"Not as harsh as my critics," the young man replied.
Lord Burton, feeling mellow from five tankards of Claret and two of the heady Madeira, listened to the dinner table banter. Occasionally he inspected his youngest son from under bushy eyebrows. Tall, slender, exceedingly handsome, he didn't look at all like his brother or father, though his likeness could be seen in a couple of portraits of ancestors ... lining the hallways on the second and third floors. The boy had changed, he thought and not necessarily for the better, it would seem. Although the older man had never been as close to Ethan as he was his oldest son, Robin, he still held a great deal of love for the boy. Robin was powerfully built, was a no-nonsense type of individual, like his father, he thought. Whereas Ethan was inclined to be flamboyant. Robin was in the Navy and, with the normal progression expected of him, would wind up an Admiral ... as had several Burtons during the last hundred years. Ethan, at 23, was already showing signs of the life of dissipation he was living in London. He'd be dead of the pox or something worse by the time he was 35. And his chbice of professions! Poetry and playwriting. Good God! It was fortunate his grandfather and great grandfather hadn't been around to see what became of the boy; they would have horsewhipped not only Ethan but Ethan's father as well. Like so many other times in the past, Lord Burton felt a surge of relief that the title would be going to the oldest boy.
Still, though, there definitely seemed to be something strange about Ethan tonight. He looked ... looked almost as if he were in despair. Oh well, it would pass. A few days home with regular hours and good wholesome country food, away from those degenerate friends of his, an exciting hunt or two with a full bag of partridge, a little of the local cunt, and he'll be as good as new.
Once, the older man caught Ethan-seated just to his right on the other side of Lady Bullock-glancing across the table toward Elizabeth Mason. Oh no, you don't, me young buck. She's still in mourning. She's a guest in this house, even though that's made small difference to you or me in the past. But if she's to be had, it will be by Robin. She had the build of a woman who can spit out sons like peach stones. The future Lord Burton, God willing, will come out of that womb. If you must cast around for entertainment, there's Lady Ainsworth's buck-toothed daughter whinnying like a mare in heat at your elbow, trying to get your attention. And Lady Windrow! She'll give you a run for your money. I warrant she's got her hot little hand in your lap under the table already.
Lord Burton grinned almost drunkenly at that last thought. The well-endowed, dark-haired wife of Sir Dennis Windrow had surreptitiously felt under the table for him one night about ten years before, but she hadn't gotten a rise from him. Lord Burton deliberately seated her next to him again the following night, and making sure she didn't see him, carefully brought out from beneath his coat a freshly made, still slightly greasy, sausage about fifteen inches long and three inches in diameter which he put in his lap. Midway through the thick Scottish beef broth course, he felt Lady Windrow's hand once again on his knee. He nodded and winked his encouragement to her, then her hand was sliding teasingly up toward his crotch. He was watching her face closely when her mouth opened wide in surprise and she blinked in stunned disbelief. Her eyes glazed and she seemed almost drooling as her fingers measured the formidable girth of the tube of meat.
When he was sure she had a good grip on the sausage, he abruptly stood to toast the King, leaving the poor startled bitch holding his "prick" under the table.
The following afternoon, as soon as Sir Dennis had gone out hunting with three other guests, Lord Burton made his way to her room. Lady Windrow slapped his face, of course, but there was no real force or anger to the blow. A moment later, they were both laughing about the joke until tears streamed down their cheeks. And then he had shown her the real thing ... which she seemed to appreciate almost as much as the awesome instrument she had discovered the night before.
Lord Burton's rambling thoughts were brought back as he picked up the Vicar's question, "And when will Robin be home?"
"Within the fortnight, I suppose. He and my brother plan to take a ship from Halifax to Liverpool as soon as they can complete their duties."
"I understand the plight of the American colonists they brought back with them is pitiful," the Vicar's wife stated.
Lord Burton shrugged.
The entire room fell silent when Elizabeth said softly, "They shouldn't have left in the first place."
"My dear," Lady Windrow purred. "They would have been butchered. As it is, they lost their business, their lands and properties to those American barbarians."
"Lady Windrow. I am an American. My husband was an American. He was shot by a hired killer, one of King George's Hessians. Those are the barbarians."
Down the table, Lady Sutton pursed her lips in disdain. "Then if you're an American, Elizabeth, pray tell what you are doing here? Why aren't you in America ... with the others?"
Ethan, who was in the process of taking a drink, slammed his tankard on the table, and the Madiera wine sloshed out of the pewter mug to stain the table cloth like blood. "Lady Sutton, are you being insulting out of ignorance, or for pleasure?"
The older woman drew in her breath sharply. "Why ... I've never...."
"Enough!" Lord Burton shouted. "I'll have no politicking at my table. Speak of game, speak of gossip, lie ... say what you will, but no politicking."
"Father, I think...."
"Mind your tongue, Ethan, and remember your manners." He glowered down the table toward Lady Sutton. "I should explain to you, Madam, that Elizabeth came to England with her mother and her father who had business to attend to. The three of them were to return in May, but the hostilities have increased to a point where it is dangerous to be aboard a British ship going into an American harbour. Her parents have decided, and wisely so I feel, that it would be the better part of wisdom to wait until a more propitious time to return to their home."
The argument, as brief as it was, put a decided damper on the previously high spirits of the guests, and it was with a great sense of relief that Elizabeth was able to retire to her room as soon as the Vicar and his wife left.
There was a cheery fire burning in the fireplace, but Elizabeth's unhappiness only increased at the sight. This was a room to be enjoyed in the company of another person-a man. Too, the conversation downstairs in the banquet hall had disturbed her far more than she cared to admit. Prior to this she had been immune to the innuendos about her husband and the veiled questions as to where her own loyalties lay. But the recurring erotic dreams and her own crying need for companionship were slowly breaking down the barriers of sorrow which she had erected ... and now she was vulnerable, and she instinctively knew it.
The night curtains had been drawn already, but the young American widow felt a need to see the outside world again. She pulled the cord and drapes slowly parted to reveal a night full of swirling white snow being blown by blizzard-force winds sweeping in off the Irish sea. She stared at it for a moment then, wanting to be free of confinement, grabbed her long hooded cloak from the closet and opened the doors leading out to the balcony. The blast of the wind sent her staggering backward until she was able to bend into it, and the fury of the snow stung her face, immediately blinding her. In spite of the sub-freezing air, she exalted in being a part of the storm. The wind howled like an unleashed animal from hell as it ripped through the trees and screamed up the hollow rain pipes of Marleyhead Manor. Her cloak billowed out then whipped away from her frigidly trembling body to stream out like a large black banner in back of her as she put her hands on the railing to brace herself.
The young blonde girl didn't notice the snow plastering to the outlines of her body, nor did she feel the Arctic chill stealing through her limb. Her mind was free and running with the wind as, slowly, all sensation began to leave her feet, legs, hands and face. She felt an inner peace for the first time since April of the year before when William had joined the militia for the attack on the victorious British troops returning to Boston from Concord.
From somewhere far-off, above the screaming howl of the wind, she heard a voice crying, "Elizabeth! My God! Elizabeth!" It sounded like some poor lost bird caught in the blizzard's fury. "Elizabeth!"
Then someone was shaking her. She tried to see who it was, but the snow had caked on her eyelashes and she was blinded. Warm ... deliciously warm, she thought as all consciousness left her and she started to fall. Her last rational thought was that someone was carrying her....
Ethan laid the unconscious girl down on the couch and then shoved it as close to the fireplace as he could. Quickly, he went back to the open balcony doors and, by putting his shoulders against the frame and exerting all of his force, was able to shut out the raging wind.
When he turned back to the fireplace, his usual trouble-free expression had been replaced by one full of concern. What could have prompted Elizabeth to go out in freezing weather like this ... and stay out until she was half-frozen and senseless? It was fortunate, he thought, that he had decided to visit her with a pitcher full of Madiera and apologize for Lady Sutton's rudeness. If he hadn't come when he had, she undoubtedly would have frozen to death.
He stared down at her lovely white face reflected in the firelight. The patina of snow was beginning to melt in her hair and on her black silk dress. A little rivulet of water ran down her eyelashes; it looked as though she were weeping.
"Elizabeth," he said, kneeling alongside the couch and shaking her. "Dear Elizabeth ... wake up."
There was no response from the girl. Her hands were ice-cold as he began rubbing them in an effort to restore circulation. Instinctively knowing he wasn't doing enough, he removed her shoes and massaged her white stocking-covered feet.
He worked on her for at least three minutes and was beginning to think that he should send downstairs for help, when she finally moaned. "Elizabeth?"
In spite of her moan, it was as though the girl were dead. Only the slow rise and fall of her full sensuous breasts gave any evidence that she was still among the living.
Some color was beginning to return to her cheeks, but another problem was manifesting itself. The heavily-caked snow on her dress now had almost melted, and she was rapidly becoming wet to the skin.
His eyes narrowed. He really should send for the maid and the housekeeper! But they would be asleep, he was sure, and it would take time to roust them out.
Making his decision, he quickly began stripping Elizabeth of her wet clothing. First came her black silk dress. With nervous fingers, he unlaced her bodice and pulled it down over her smoothly rounded shoulders, cradling her in his arms as he did so. A moment later, he lay her back flat on the couch and, by tugging at the dress while lifting her hips, he was able to move the dress down over her buttocks and finally down her long curvaceous legs. The water had permeated the thin black silk and soaked her white satin chemise, making it almost transparent. The large brown halos of her nipples could clearly be seen through the sheer material, as could the fleshy upward thrust of her ripened breasts. The damp fabric clung to every delicious curve of her lush young body and Ethan could feel his cock stirring restlessly as he saw the prominent outline of her pubic mound under her underpants.
Elizabeth shuddered once, shivered, then moaned again.
Ethan called her name, with no more response than before. He could see the goose bumps all over her chilled body. Christ! I've got to do something or she's liable to catch pneumonia. It still was not too late to call for help but now, staring at the breathtaking contours of her body, he no longer wanted any assistance ... or any witnesses!
The girl was cold and wet. It was his duty to warm and dry her. Quickly then, before he could consider all of the ramifications of what he was about to do, he pulled her chemise up over her head and threw it on the floor. He straddled her hips with his knees and used one hand to lift her up slightly so he could remove her soaked underpants. Now the only thing she was wearing was a pair of white silk stockings which came just below the knee; they were held up by blue silk garters. He stripped her of these and then her lushly curved body was completely naked, her secret hollows and indentations made even more enticing by the flickering light from the fireplace.
Only then did Ethan permit himself to look at her. She was still unconscious, but most of her color had returned. Her ripe full lips were slightly parted, they looked moist ... and inviting. His appreciatively glowing eyes fell to her naked breasts, so full and bountifully ripened. The cold had made her nipples stand up in twin brown peaks, berry-like ... eatable. She had a tautly rounded little belly but there was no fat on her at all.
His gaze lingered hungrily on her bush of corn-silk pussy hair, and he fought the urge to reach down and caress the warm flesh which he knew lay so defenselessly up between her legs. Thoughtfully he rubbed his pulsating penis which had grown hard and thick during the inspection, and he couldn't help thinking: There's that sweet little cunt of hers. She's grown into a woman since that delightful summer she spent here seven years ago. A lush seductive woman ... and I must fuck her. I must, and God help me, I shall!
Ethan tore his lusting eyes away from her helpless body, then went into the bedroom and came back with the fur comforter which he used to cover her nakedness. Feeling strangely weak from the anticipation of the forbidden thing he was about to do, the young man kicked off his boots and trousers, removed his shirt, and lay down on the couch beside her. Her naked flesh against his own felt cool, except for her erect little nipples; they were like burning coals against his chest.
He slid one arm underneath her rib cage and cradled her blonde head on his shoulder, turning her voluptuous body so that they lay face to face, his long thick penis pulsating in excitement as it was tickled by her pussy hair. He put his free hand down and cupped her naked ass-cheeks and began gently massaging the cool fleshy mounds.
The young man's excitement continued to build until his cock was aching with each hammering beat of his heart. God, he could so easily slip it up inside that hot little cunt right now, and she couldn't stop him. He could fill her sweet belly full of his cum. Quivering all over, he removed his hand from her buttocks and put it down between their naked bodies to guide his hotly throbbing hardness between her legs. Ethan was dying to ram his thick rigid cock inside her cunt without any further ado, but he stemmed his impatience and was content merely to slide his pulsating shaft in between her firm young thighs. He pumped his hips back and forth a couple of times, and groaned as he felt his prick sliding erotically inside its foreskin. It was a poor substitute for fucking, but far more exciting than masturbating.
Elizabeth moaned, louder this time, and Ethan stilled his motions. His heart was hammering as he wondered what the beautiful blonde would do when she recovered consciousness and discovered that she was naked, that he was naked too, and that his warmly pulsating cock was wrapped in between her thighs.
Well, he wouldn't let her scream. But he might have to talk his fool head off, he realized. Quickly the story built in his mind, and it was plausible enough when he considered it. Besides it was true! He had found her half-frozen on the balcony outside, had been forced to remove he wet clothes, and when it appeared that she needed additional warmth, he had given her his by lying down beside her. As for his erection? Well, any woman would understand that. She might be angry, but every woman liked to know that she excited a man, and what was better evidence of excitement than a hard-on.
He sensed she was beginning to come out of her deep unconscious state. Her breathing seemed to be stronger now, and occasionally her arm or leg jumped as if she were awakening. Ethan was watching her beautiful face in the firelight when he saw her eyeballs moving behind her eyelashes. She's dreaming, he thought in astonishment, and for a moment felt a pang of guilt at taking advantage of the innocent young girl. But then, like a fist in the belly, he realized she was having an erotic dream! He could feel the unmistakable motions as her pelvis made urgent little fucking movements against his groin.
Even as he watched her, he could see her lips parting and her tongue make a lewd suggestive circle. It was too much for any man to bear, much less the hot-blooded Ethan. He lowered his open mouth to hers and kissed her, gently at first, but with increasing fervour as he felt her tongue slip wantonly between his lips.
Elizabeth's breath increased in tempo as he pulled his mouth away from hers. A flicker of disappointment crossed her sleeping face as she whispered, "Will-yam?"
Moving very gently, Ethan replaced his hand on her naked ass-cheek and started making teasing little circles with his fingers. The girl purred low in her throat, and he thought he felt her thigh muscles tighten against his frantically throbbing cock locked in place between them.
Knowing that he was already in trouble if she awakened, the young Burton lowered his face to her breast and tenderly sucked her erected nipple up into his mouth. She moaned as he rolled the rubbery little button between his teeth, and this time there was no mistaking the lewd hungry motion that her hips made against his groin ... as if her cunt were searching for his long hard cock.
Ethan sensed he was rapidly reaching a point where he would have little control over his actions. Before that happened, he wanted to do everything he could to arouse the rapidly awakening girl. His mouth, watering now in anticipation, rained a trail of hot kisses down her neck and across both of her shoulders. Elizabeth groaned and thrust one shoulder forward as if she were offering her naked breasts to him. His mouth paid homage to her warm velvety flesh, then his lips dropped down across her navel.
Although he was under the fur comforter, he could plainly see her naked body as he kissed across her belly which was beginning to heave in excitement now. His hotly glowing eyes were locked on the soft yellow swirls of pussy hair that covered her sleeping cunt. As his moistened lips dropped to her inner thigh, she moaned loudly and, in her sleep, spread her right leg outward until it slid off the couch and her toes were touching the floor.
Ethan stared in lewd appreciation as he saw the pink, moistly gleaming lips of her pussy revealed in front of his watering mouth. Never before had he seen anything so exciting, so delectable. He could smell the warm rich aroma of her cunt; it was a heady smell, a combination of her femaleness, perfume, and soap. Although he had tongue-fucked women dozens of times in the past, he couldn't remember having been this excited before. His hands were trembling uncontrollably as he put his palms against the smooth warmth of her sleek inner thighs and pushed them further apart until her coral-hued vaginal lips were gaping wide open. There, nestled between them was the tiny shadowy opening to her cunt.
Ethan slipped down further on the couch, getting in between her spread knees, and then satisfied with his position-stuck out his tongue and made one tantalizing lick from her knee up her inner thigh. The girl's body quivered and he could hear her loud groan. There, only inches away from his mouth, he saw her golden-haired mound slowly rise in a lewd invitation up off the couch.
"Yes, William, do it ... do it, darling," she said dreamily.
Yes, Elizabeth, I shall do it. Dream on my sweet, and when you wake up, my prick will be inside that tight little cunt of yours.
He kissed his way up the sensitive inside of her thigh, then took a deep breath as he rubbed his nose across her curling pussy hair, feeling it tickle his nostrils and face.
Ready now for whatever might happen, he lowered his mouth until it was just above the warmly perfumed furrow up between her quivering thighs. Her cuntal lips were swollen, he noted, an indication of her arousal, and his eyes glistened as he caught sight of her larger than normal clitoris. An older woman in France seven years ago had taught him all about that enticing little female organ when he had been only fifteen and a half years old ... and he would be eternally grateful to her for the private lessons.
Slowly, deliberately tantalizing himself, he lowered his face to her wetly heated pussy, feeling her hairs pressing against his nose and chin. He made one swipe of his tongue, licking from the hot little bud of her clitoris all the way down to her anus. Above him, Elizabeth moaned in her sleep and, automatically, attempted to spread her thighs further apart.
Ethan was drooling as his trembling tongue retraced the wet path upward toward her gaping vaginal opening. Her slippery young pussy tasted like honey and aromatic spices, and being a poet-he paused momentarily in an effort to put his thoughts into words. His growing passion and his lust-stiffened penis throbbing so painfully against the couch was making it difficult to think, however.
Elizabeth's moistly responding cunt lifted again of its own accord in an attempt to regain his cock and that delightful erotic sensation which it had been experiencing only seconds before.
Ethan used the opportunity to cup her naked ass-cheeks in the palms of his hands and raise the succulent vaginal feast up off the couch. Then his face lowered again, and he deliberately made his tongue wiggle as it licked around the quivering little mouth of her hair-rimmed cunt, scraping against every sensitive nerve ending down there. Immediately he tasted the first slightly saline secretions of musk as her fevered vaginal passage began pouring out lubrication in preparation for fucking.
Slowly, still wiggling his tongue, he pushed his face forward and his tongue slipped just inside the fire-filled cuntal opening.
"Ohhhh," the naked young girl groaned, and Ethan knew she was close now to regaining full consciousness. Quickly then, he began fucking his tongue in and out of her wetly clasping pussy, simultaneously rubbing his nose against the gleaming tip of her erected clitoris and using his fingers to knead her sensitive ass-cheeks.
Elizabeth was swimming to the surface of a warm wonderful sea of sensuality. She was dreaming, but some rational part of her mind told her that this dream was different than all the others she had experienced. In her dream, William was down there between her legs, and he was doing something that he had never done before, licking her genitals. It was so deliciously erotic. Forbidden, of course, but apparently if she were to believe her own ears when Lord Burton had told Jill he had "no time for cunt licking today"-it was done all the time by some of the better people.
Her heart was pounding like a runaway horse as she felt what was, undeniably, William's long wet tongue sliding in and out of her hotly tingling cunt. Wave after wave of forbidden pleasure rippled outward from that sensitive spot up between her legs. She was rapidly approaching orgasm, but she fought it ... knowing that if she climaxed or awakened that wonderful sensation would go away.
Ethan was unaware of the battle that was being waged in the unconscious girl's mind. All he knew was that she was responding with an uninhibited fervour that surprised even him. She was going absolutely wild as his tongue fucked in and out of her honey and fire-filled pussy. He pulled back for a second to get his breath, and heard her muffled cry of disappointment. His eyes glowed in obscene triumph as he stared at her erotically quivering vaginal slit where her fleshy cunt-lips had fully blossomed now and had changed in size and color. A pearl colored drop of her inner secretions mixed with his saliva dangled like an ornament just above the tight little opening to her pussy, and the entire area looked like the meat of some exotic tropical fruit ... ripe, tasty, sweet!
Still, though, he wanted more. He took his hands away from her trembling ass-cheeks and used both thumbs to split her heated vaginal lips even further apart. Now everything was exposed. At the top, he saw her inflamed clitoral bud, glowing an angry red in color, about the size of the first joint of his little finger. He bent forward and ran his tongue time and time again around the little bundle of erogenous nerves as she quivered and squirmed in abandon. He concentrated on her clitoris as the still unconscious girl clamped both thighs around his ears, holding his face captive and in position, while she shamelessly fucked her ecstatic young pussy up and down against his tongue.
Then, unmistakably, she was cumming.
"William ... sweet William, I'm ... I'm there. I'm ... I'm ... cumming."
Elizabeth stiffened as though she were suffering from rigor mortis, then her naked body began convulsing as surge after surge of carnal pleasure devastated her love-starved cunt.
When her spasms of release faded, Ethan once more kissed his way up across her heaving belly, using his watering mouth to pay homage to both breasts. It was only his imagination, he was sure, but they seemed fuller and more velvety than before. Then, man and woman were lying belly to belly again, her disheveled blonde head resting on his shoulder, his free hand on her naked buttocks with fingers gently massaging and squeezing her slightly quivering ass-cheeks, his long hard penis pulsating hotly between her fleshy thighs....
Slowly, the swirling mists of her mind began to thin, then clear in spots. Elizabeth would be conscious one moment, then reality would slip away again. Finally, though, she began to take cognizance of her surroundings. The first thing she felt was her own euphoria which she recognized as being a sexual langour. Then she sensed someone naked lying beside her ... that she, too, was naked ... that her nipples were pressing against his hairy chest....
That something hot and hard was pulsating between her thighs! A penis?
Her eyes blinked open, but it took a moment for her to focus on Ethan's oddly smiling face.
"You? Oh my God, Ethan. Wha ... what are you doing?" She immediately began struggling.
"Elizabeth! Stop it! Listen to me!"
"No ... go away, Ethan. Oh my God," she repeated. "Oh ... my God! That was you in my dream! What have you done to me!"
"I haven't fucked you yet, if that's what you're worried about," he grinned.
Elizabeth gasped in renewed shock at his obscene words. "Let me up."
"Not yet. Not until I tell you what happened."
"No...." she panted, trying to pull her belly and thighs away from his heatedly throbbing cock. The mere touch of it was as searing as a red hot brand; she couldn't bear to think of it down there so close to her love-starved vagina.
Ethan shoved his hips forward slightly, forcing the nakedly squirming girl toward the back of the couch, and he pressed his thick rigid penis against her belly again. "If you listen, I'll let you go," he lied.
"Please, Ethan. Please don't stay here. I'm in mourning. Have pity on me. Remember ... I'm your friend."
"Yes, we've been good friends for a long time, I remember. You were twelve. You'd never seen or felt a cock before."
"Stop it, Ethan. Oh God! You must stop it," she moaned.
The words had come unplanned to Ethan's mind; he had almost forgotten that summer seven years ago when the American girl had come to spend some time at Marleyhead Manor. Only fifteen, himself, she had stumbled upon him in the forest glade by the small pool: he had just finished swimming and was still naked ... and, lying on his back, was in the midst of masturbating.
It was difficult to say which of them was the most startled. But by talking calmly to her, by playing on her friendship and curiosity, he was able to get the twelve-year-old girl to lie down beside him, to touch "just once" his excitedly pulsating penis, and finally to wrap her trembling little fingers around his hotly swollen shaft and stroke him until he came. He could still remember her gasp of amazement as his ejaculating sperm had jetted high into the air before falling onto his belly and her arm. Before the week was out, it was a twice and sometimes thrice daily ritual with them. It was something she looked eagerly forward to because, on the second day, she let him touch her breasts, pull her bodice open and kiss the budding flesh. Excited beyond all control, she had been helpless when his hand stole up under her dress and touched her hairless pussy. The boy's outstretched middle finger sliding back and forth on her wet slippering cunt had brought her quickly to her first orgasm. Her mother's finely honed feminine instincts must have sensed something because after this had been going on about a week Elizabeth was forbidden to be alone anymore with the youth. And Lord Burton, hearing the hints of misbehavior from Elizabeth's mother, had sent his son to stay with friends in Paris where he knew the boy would soon be educated in all sexual matters of consequence.
"Do you remember?" he asked, deliberately flexing his fully erected penis against her cringing belly.
"Don't. Don't do that." She shook her head wildly. "I was a child."
"You were a woman already," he corrected. "You came like a woman...."
"I'm married now."
"No longer," he interrupted.
"Ethan, please! I'm a decent woman. Don't! Let me up. Please." Oh God, she must get away from him, and right now. Instinctively, she knew he was tormenting her. He knew of her terrible need. Why didn't he just go ahead and rape her? Why was he acting as though he had to seduce her? She would never willingly give in to him ... even though she wanted to be taken. She couldn't! Her decency wouldn't permit it.
"I found you out on the balcony an hour ago. You were half frozen and your clothes were soaked. I undressed you, Elizabeth. I warmed you with my own naked body. And when you started dreaming of sex, I helped you cum. With my mouth."
"No ... I won't listen to you. No!"
"See my face, Elizabeth? Look at it! Your sweet pussy juices are still smeared all over it."
"Stop it!" She attempted to cover her ears, but her hands were trapped between their naked bodies.
"So sweet. I licked your cunt until you cried out and came." He stared down at her stricken brown eyes, and when her full sensuous lips opened to protest again, he kissed her almost savagely, thrusting his tongue into her open mouth.
Elizabeth fought him with all of her might, but each movement she made scraped her sensitive breasts against his chest. She could feel his fingers, teasing and tantalizing, massaging her naked ass-cheeks, pulling her forward until her belly was pressed against his hotly throbbing prick which lay like a sword between their two bodies. Oh, it would be so simple just to open her legs and let him have that which she wanted to give away. His heated tongue which fucked in and out of her mouth like a penis was beginning to excite her, for she could taste what she suspected was her own vaginal secretions in his mouth. She knew she must continue the struggle, or her traitorous, man-hungry body would surrender to him in spite of all her will-power.
Ethan now was fully aware of the torment he was creating within the voluptuous young widow's mind. He could tell by her weakening struggles that her deepest need was overcoming her inhibitions and her guilt. Then, unmistakably, he felt the slight quiver of her timid little tongue against his.
Immediately he pulled his face away from hers and dropped his hot hungry mouth to her proud young breasts.
"Ohhh ... noooo, Ethan. Please don't." Elizabeth tried to pull away from his moistly heated lips, but the back of the couch prevented her from moving any further. His tongue was working against her sensitively tingling nipple now, and unwanted ripples of pleasure began radiating outward from the forbidden contact. She finally was able to get the palm of her hand against his forehead, but when she shoved, her strength had failed her.
Finally, with a low moan of defeat, the naked blonde widow, dropped her hand and closed her tear-filled eyes. Immediately, his searing lips moved over to her other breast and sucked the fleshy mound up into the wet heat of his mouth.
"Ohhhhh," she panted. "Go away ... please...."
With his hungrily sucking mouth locked to her right breast, Ethan moved his hand from her quivering ass-cheek around to a point between their naked bodies. Slowly he slid ft down until his fingers were caressing her pussy hair. Elizabeth moaned again, louder this time, and to his trained ear it sounded as though it were a sound of encouragement.
All strength and will to resist were rapidly flowing out of her body as Elizabeth felt the first delicious contact of his fingers against her fevered vaginal lips. She suffered a momentary pang of guilt-quickly repressed-as she realized her hips had risen of their own accord to meet his teasing middle finger.
"Remember how you used to enjoy this?" Ethan whispered, beginning a tantalizing stroking movement up between her legs. "Remember how good it felt when you came?"
"Don't ... don't torment me, Ethan."
"Remember?" He couldn't control a shudder of excitement as his outstretched finger slowly slid into the wet slippery flesh of her tight young pussy.
"Aaahhhhh ... oh God ... stop now, before it's too late. Help me ... please don't...."
Ethan gazed at the futilely squirming girl through lust-glazed eyes. When her hot little pussy had closed around his finger, he knew nothing in the world would stop him from fucking her now. She wouldn't stop him; she wanted to fuck as badly as he did, that was all too evident by the wanton way she was thrusting her swollen breasts against his chest.
Quickly then, knowing the time was ripe, he threw off the fur comforter and rolled over on top of her.
"We can't," Elizabeth gasped, but her love-starved body gave lie to the words because he felt her thighs spread just a bit.
Ethan used the opportunity to thrust his entire hand down between her trembling legs and force her knees apart. She stiffened for a moment, then violently trembling, ceased all resistance as Ethan spread her legs and bent her knees upward so that the soles of both feet were planted on the couch. When he had positioned her as he wanted, he climbed between her lewdly spread legs.
Elizabeth kept her eyes closed as she felt Lord Burton's younger son hovering over her defenselessly prone body. She shuddered in undisguised pleasure as his heated mouth kissed her straining breasts once more, then his lips closed down on her own and his tongue darted into her mouth. This time, however, her own tongue wantonly welcomed his. She groaned in disappointment when his mouth pulled away, and a second later moaned in protest when he com-maned, "Take my prick ... put it in."
"No ... don't make me. Go ahead and do it to me ... but don't make...."
"Elizabeth," he snapped, his voice sounding uncharacteristically brutal. "Put it in for me."
"Ohhh God ... I ... I can't," she whispered, but the words were no sooner out of her mouth than she felt her arm grabbed and being forced down to his hotly throbbing hardness. She shuddered once, moaned again, then tightly locked her fingers around his pulsating shaft and nudged it in between her fevered vaginal lips. The young widow was so shamelessly aroused that her cunt was already lifting up to receive his thick rigid cock before he started his first inward stroke.
With one smooth thrust of his hips, he drove his long hard shaft all the way to the hilt up into the tightly clasping flesh of her slippery young pussy.
"Aaaaggghhh," she wailed in rapture as the tendons on the insides of her thighs extended like velvet cables in an effort to spread her legs even further apart. She could feel every vein, every ridge on his thick corrugated cock as it began fucking in and out of her ecstatic vaginal sheath. Oh God. This is what I've needed for so long. A penis. Hot and hard. Fucking me! This and this alone!
The aroused young widow was only dimly aware of lifting her legs in a shamelessly lewd manner and locking her heels behind Ethan's pumping buttocks. The erotic feel of his hotly throbbing penis sawing in and out of her nerve-filled cunt was almost enough to make her orgasm immediately. Without even thinking about it, she began dipping her pelvis on each inward thrust his penis made up into her belly so that the rigid shaft would scrape against her clitoris.
Ethan had marveled when her legs locked around his waist, but he was totally unprepared for the wildly wanton way she began responding to his fucking. He had known she needed release, but this was volcanic, almost frightening in its intensity. No woman had ever responded so violently to his fucking. Her tight young cunt squeezed, massaged and rippled around his prick like something alive. Her long blonde hair was flailing from side to side, her beautiful face contorted in a mask of implacable lust, and her naked breasts swelling and quivering erotically as she pumped her hips and slid her tightly clasping pussy up and down on the entire long length of his stiffened cock. With a sense of dismay, he knew that he had absolutely no control over the situation. Christ, he wasn't fucking her; she was fucking him! And if she continued her wild pumping movements, he would cum within seconds.
But when he tried to slow the furious pace, she cried wantonly, "Don't stop! Fuck me ... oh fuck me, Ethan."
Instinctively, Elizabeth sensed the reason for his actions, but she didn't care if he came; she would cum with him. The wonderful feel of his rock-hard cock-getting hotter and more swollen with each passing second-had driven her to a mindless peak of ecstasy. She knew she was close to cumming; it no longer mattered what he did or didn't do.
"Fuck harder," she wailed. "Fuck harder."
Her lewd words inflamed Ethan to a point of no return, so he quickly cupped her wildly squirming ass-cheeks in the palms of both hands and lifted her buttocks up off the couch. Then he began ramming into her tight young cunt with all the fury of a bull.
"Oh yes," she cried deliriously. "Like that. Fuck me like that." His hotly throbbing penis seemed to be filling her entire abdomen, and Elizabeth imagined she could feel its mushroomed tip going so deep into her belly that it was scraping against the roots of her breasts on each inward stroke. Frantically she rotated her hips, grinding her screaming nerve endings against his pleasure-giving shaft. She was completely unaware of her talon-like fingernails gouging long bloody trails down his back, or of the corresponding pain as his fingers dug cruelly into her naked ass-cheeks.
Then, more violent than the Arctic storm raging outside the balcony, she felt her orgasm building to a cyclone's strength just as Ethan groaned and cried, "Oh ... I can't help it. I'm cumming. Cumming."
"Aaaaiiieee! Yes ... yes ... yesss!" the young widow screamed as the first heated jets of his sperm ejaculated high up inside her belly.
She stiffened momentarily-lifting her hips with such force that it almost threw both of them off the couch and onto the floor-then started convulsing as spasm after spasm of carnal pleasure jolted through her cock-filled cunt and spread throughout her body.
"Cumming. I'm cumming," she panted hoarsely.
Ethan felt her tight vaginal muscles grip down on his ejaculating penis like a fish inside a greasy rubber glove and, abruptly, her pussy was rippling all around his wildly jerking shaft. She came ... and then, as he continued to thrust in and out of her climaxing cuntal passage, she came again, her head thrown back, nostrils distended, neck tendons as taut as silken ropes, eyelids fluttering in pleasure, naked breasts uplifted in lewd offering.
Finally, as though every bone had been removed from her body, she collapsed down against the couch and lay there sobbing and panting from exhaustion and release. Elizabeth could feel his penis twitching inside her sperm-filled cunt as life slowly dwindled out of it. She subconsciously tightened her vaginal muscles in protest as she felt him withdrawing.
Ethan lay down beside the sweat-streaked girl and watched her tremulously rising and falling breasts. Lord, she was some fuck! But now he wasn't sure how she felt about him forcing himself upon her, and he did feel a decided guilt about the way he had used her. He hoped and prayed she would forgive him, because he knew he had to fuck her again ... and again.
Slowly, he bent forward and ovaled his lips around her erect little nipple. He had almost expected her to protest, to push him away, to curse him.
Instead, Elizabeth used both hands to cup his face and lift it from her warmly tingling breasts. She held his face above hers for a moment, studying his expression, his mouth, his entire face.
Then, with a gentle smile and a sigh of pleasure, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him gratefully.
Her mourning period was finally over....