At that I raised my head and pressed her face to my breasts while feeling for the little velvet buttons of the front of her dress.
“Yes, all right, I did, though not at first. I wished he had kept it in longer. You had the best of it,” Elaine confessed.
Little by little I had freed her breasts as she spoke. My fingers roamed now over their glossy swollen surfaces. Her nipples, quickly risen, stubbed against my fingertips.
A little awkwardly I drew her up, but she following easily, we moved sideways together back cross the room and fell pellmell upon the bed. Her mouth was moist and hungry. Licking at her nipples while she sighed and let her arms loll above her head, I raised her skirt and dwelt my eyes with pleasure upon her mount. The dark hairs were crisp and well-fluffed up. The lips were oily with the excited thoughts she had apparently sustained. Working my tongue into the whorl of her navel, I caused her to giggle and double up her legs. Upon her doing this, and having her bottom half hanging over the edge of the bed, I dropped to my knees and—holding her without resistance, plunged my pointed tongue back and forth in her pussy.
Elaine squirmed and moaned, but pressed into me, quite mushing me with her pubic hairs.
“Did he fuck you? Tell me, oh tell me,” she quivered.
“Of course—as he will you tonight.”
She hid her face, enjoying my tongue muchly as the sly movements of her bottom showed. Rolling her upon her back and forcing her thighs askew, I plunged my mouth in deeper. She was on the point of coming as I could tell by all the little febrile movements of her body. Her stockinged legs stirred passionately, waving this way and that. The slurping of my tongue sounded.
“Oh, no, I cannot!” she moaned.
Gliding my luring tongue without, I rubbed my chin all around her clitoris, this coming as an inspiration to me and proving most effective, for she bucked the more and let me feel her tricklings.
“You silly, you must, for else you will be birched and your hot bottom put up to them one by one. Many a girl is so treated at the Comte's, I hear.”
“Oh-woh!” Elaine's knees spread themselves over my shoulders, the heels of her shoes digging between my shoulder blades. Her back arched. She came again, this time in a fiercer spurting whose fine rain spattered against my chin. Her legs slumped down either side of me and remained open. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. I was upon her like a tigress. Our stocking tops rubbed together.
“Say yes, for I would not have you birched,” I begged.
“Yes!”
Whether she even heard herself speak, I know not. She kissed divinely. Our quims rubbed together as sensitively as the strings of violins. So wriggling and squirming together we released our juices which mingled in the oiling of our thighs. Quiescent then in the pale mists of fulfilment, we lay panting. Moving half off of her I toyed with her slit. My left leg lay across hers.
The night would soon enough come upon us. I whispered to her of what must come to pass. She hugged me, answering me not, her eyelashes fluttering against my cheek.
CHAPTER eight
The maison of the Comte was luxurious in the extreme, as might have been expected. Gildings, decorations and large mirrors were all about. A huge winding staircase gave promise of what was to follow above. That we were to stay the night was tacitly understood. At dinner the Comte arraigned himself at my side—his companion acting as escort to Elaine while my uncle sat with Pearl. All looked most seemly. Waiters whose quietness would have flattered the Savoy in London went back and forth with an endless array of dishes. The wines were so numerous that I almost lost count of them.
“We will, with your permission ladies, take liqueurs at table,” the Comte announced at the end of our repast. The' suggestion was curious, but in a moment I saw the reason for it. The doors opened and a most divine young maid appeared, bearing glasses and bottles upon
“Yes, all right, I did, though not at first. I wished he had kept it in longer. You had the best of it,” Elaine confessed.
Little by little I had freed her breasts as she spoke. My fingers roamed now over their glossy swollen surfaces. Her nipples, quickly risen, stubbed against my fingertips.
A little awkwardly I drew her up, but she following easily, we moved sideways together back cross the room and fell pellmell upon the bed. Her mouth was moist and hungry. Licking at her nipples while she sighed and let her arms loll above her head, I raised her skirt and dwelt my eyes with pleasure upon her mount. The dark hairs were crisp and well-fluffed up. The lips were oily with the excited thoughts she had apparently sustained. Working my tongue into the whorl of her navel, I caused her to giggle and double up her legs. Upon her doing this, and having her bottom half hanging over the edge of the bed, I dropped to my knees and—holding her without resistance, plunged my pointed tongue back and forth in her pussy.
Elaine squirmed and moaned, but pressed into me, quite mushing me with her pubic hairs.
“Did he fuck you? Tell me, oh tell me,” she quivered.
“Of course—as he will you tonight.”
She hid her face, enjoying my tongue muchly as the sly movements of her bottom showed. Rolling her upon her back and forcing her thighs askew, I plunged my mouth in deeper. She was on the point of coming as I could tell by all the little febrile movements of her body. Her stockinged legs stirred passionately, waving this way and that. The slurping of my tongue sounded.
“Oh, no, I cannot!” she moaned.
Gliding my luring tongue without, I rubbed my chin all around her clitoris, this coming as an inspiration to me and proving most effective, for she bucked the more and let me feel her tricklings.
“You silly, you must, for else you will be birched and your hot bottom put up to them one by one. Many a girl is so treated at the Comte's, I hear.”
“Oh-woh!” Elaine's knees spread themselves over my shoulders, the heels of her shoes digging between my shoulder blades. Her back arched. She came again, this time in a fiercer spurting whose fine rain spattered against my chin. Her legs slumped down either side of me and remained open. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. I was upon her like a tigress. Our stocking tops rubbed together.
“Say yes, for I would not have you birched,” I begged.
“Yes!”
Whether she even heard herself speak, I know not. She kissed divinely. Our quims rubbed together as sensitively as the strings of violins. So wriggling and squirming together we released our juices which mingled in the oiling of our thighs. Quiescent then in the pale mists of fulfilment, we lay panting. Moving half off of her I toyed with her slit. My left leg lay across hers.
The night would soon enough come upon us. I whispered to her of what must come to pass. She hugged me, answering me not, her eyelashes fluttering against my cheek.
CHAPTER eight
The maison of the Comte was luxurious in the extreme, as might have been expected. Gildings, decorations and large mirrors were all about. A huge winding staircase gave promise of what was to follow above. That we were to stay the night was tacitly understood. At dinner the Comte arraigned himself at my side—his companion acting as escort to Elaine while my uncle sat with Pearl. All looked most seemly. Waiters whose quietness would have flattered the Savoy in London went back and forth with an endless array of dishes. The wines were so numerous that I almost lost count of them.
“We will, with your permission ladies, take liqueurs at table,” the Comte announced at the end of our repast. The' suggestion was curious, but in a moment I saw the reason for it. The doors opened and a most divine young maid appeared, bearing glasses and bottles upon
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