a silver tray. These attracted our attention but little however in comparison with her attire which was such as a Greek princess might have worn in olden times.
Her sole garment was a robe of white which, being translucent, allowed one to see the proud orbing of her breasts, the dark circles which surmounted them and—below—where the material wafted out with every step, the brazen triangle of her bush.
Her limbs were slender, her hips finely curving, and the rondeur of her marbled bottom announcing itself boldly beneath the white mist. Being tallish, she carried herself regally, her feet shod in silver slippers whose heels gave perfect rise to her legs. Unblushingly and with her long dark hair moving easily about her shoulders, she served us one by one, my uncle being sufficiently discreet and well-schooled not to appear to take overmuch notice of the pendant breasts which nudged his shoulder as his glass was filled.
The liqueur was Benedictine—one that is ever my favourite. It has a perfect bite to it yet is smooth as velvet and does not clog the throat. Its headiness is insidious but pleasing. One becomes not so much tipsy from it as floating around it.
Expecting as I did, the young beauty then to retire, I was duly astonished to see her place her tray quietly down upon a side table and then with feline grace slink down upon her knees and disappear beneath the table. The purpose of this however soon became clear to me. A faint gasp came from Pearl but then was hushed. Simultaneously my uncle spluttered for a moment into his glass but then was quiet in turn.
The Comte turned not a hair but continued conversing with us, asking me whether I did not like the paintings of Renoir whose delineation of females was, he said, the finest ever to be viewed.
“No, for I think Renoir's ladies are too fat,” I replied to his amusement, keeping as I did one eye upon Pearl and my uncle who were moving about most curiously and for good reason since the maid, having plunged her face up between the lady's thighs, was also attending to my uncle's prick with her hand. Their expressions were amusing, for each strove to act as if nothing at all were happening and indeed might well not have been so far as the Comte was concerned. Both drank more quickly than they would otherwise have done and 'twas my uncle who reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, which I considered quite a feat considering the trembling of his hand.
The pair having thus been lubriciously readied, the maid most obviously turned her attention next to Elaine whose mouth opened in a wide aperture of surprise while a blush flooded her from neck to forehead.
“Are you not well, my dear?” the Comte asked, feeling well up my thigh as he did beneath my gown. I stirred and assisted his endeavours, being not uneager to taste the maid's tongue myself, or rather to afford her a taste of my cunny, for I thought her tongue to be well coated already.
Elaine bubbled. I can only describe it as that. Raised as it had been to her mouth, her glass chattered against her teeth and then dropped limply to the table, almost causing the precious liqueur to be spilled. Pearl was meanwhile smiling and more at her ease, having—-as I was afterwards to know—my uncle's prick in her hand beneath the tablecloth while he prettied his fingers about her bush. Elaine's companion, Roald, was doubtless suffering a similar assault, for he rolled his eyes and worked his body, the two appearing to perform St. Vitus' Dance.
“HAAAAR!” gasped my cousin—most indiscreetly, for I was yet awaiting my turn, though I needed it less now that the Comte's fingers were at me. Having parted my thighs well and shifted my bottom forward on my chair, he was enabled to tease me to distraction by turning his wrist about and playing with my clitoris.
“She should be upon the table, for she has been but lightly seen to today,” then said Pearl who clearly wished to hasten matters and, I have little
Her sole garment was a robe of white which, being translucent, allowed one to see the proud orbing of her breasts, the dark circles which surmounted them and—below—where the material wafted out with every step, the brazen triangle of her bush.
Her limbs were slender, her hips finely curving, and the rondeur of her marbled bottom announcing itself boldly beneath the white mist. Being tallish, she carried herself regally, her feet shod in silver slippers whose heels gave perfect rise to her legs. Unblushingly and with her long dark hair moving easily about her shoulders, she served us one by one, my uncle being sufficiently discreet and well-schooled not to appear to take overmuch notice of the pendant breasts which nudged his shoulder as his glass was filled.
The liqueur was Benedictine—one that is ever my favourite. It has a perfect bite to it yet is smooth as velvet and does not clog the throat. Its headiness is insidious but pleasing. One becomes not so much tipsy from it as floating around it.
Expecting as I did, the young beauty then to retire, I was duly astonished to see her place her tray quietly down upon a side table and then with feline grace slink down upon her knees and disappear beneath the table. The purpose of this however soon became clear to me. A faint gasp came from Pearl but then was hushed. Simultaneously my uncle spluttered for a moment into his glass but then was quiet in turn.
The Comte turned not a hair but continued conversing with us, asking me whether I did not like the paintings of Renoir whose delineation of females was, he said, the finest ever to be viewed.
“No, for I think Renoir's ladies are too fat,” I replied to his amusement, keeping as I did one eye upon Pearl and my uncle who were moving about most curiously and for good reason since the maid, having plunged her face up between the lady's thighs, was also attending to my uncle's prick with her hand. Their expressions were amusing, for each strove to act as if nothing at all were happening and indeed might well not have been so far as the Comte was concerned. Both drank more quickly than they would otherwise have done and 'twas my uncle who reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, which I considered quite a feat considering the trembling of his hand.
The pair having thus been lubriciously readied, the maid most obviously turned her attention next to Elaine whose mouth opened in a wide aperture of surprise while a blush flooded her from neck to forehead.
“Are you not well, my dear?” the Comte asked, feeling well up my thigh as he did beneath my gown. I stirred and assisted his endeavours, being not uneager to taste the maid's tongue myself, or rather to afford her a taste of my cunny, for I thought her tongue to be well coated already.
Elaine bubbled. I can only describe it as that. Raised as it had been to her mouth, her glass chattered against her teeth and then dropped limply to the table, almost causing the precious liqueur to be spilled. Pearl was meanwhile smiling and more at her ease, having—-as I was afterwards to know—my uncle's prick in her hand beneath the tablecloth while he prettied his fingers about her bush. Elaine's companion, Roald, was doubtless suffering a similar assault, for he rolled his eyes and worked his body, the two appearing to perform St. Vitus' Dance.
“HAAAAR!” gasped my cousin—most indiscreetly, for I was yet awaiting my turn, though I needed it less now that the Comte's fingers were at me. Having parted my thighs well and shifted my bottom forward on my chair, he was enabled to tease me to distraction by turning his wrist about and playing with my clitoris.
“She should be upon the table, for she has been but lightly seen to today,” then said Pearl who clearly wished to hasten matters and, I have little
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