Chapter 14 part 4 (IN THE AFTERNOON OF A FAUN)
Artie looked down at Agatha laying on the bed, her body half covered by the bedsheet, the rest of it dressed in shadows; the late afternoon light breaking through the windows. He was standing at one of two windows, looking out at the small village below, his naked reflection mirrored in the window glass where he could see her watching him. He turned to look at her, smiling.
“I trust you had an enjoyable afternoon, milady?” he asked, his smile genuine. “I know that I have.”
“If by that you mean having been thoroughly fucked out by a handsome young stranger, then yes, I did,” she smiled, stretching her arms over her head as if she were a cat stretching after a long nap. He was looking at her breasts and her tight beaded nipples, admiring the shape of them—imagining his hands on them once again—imagining himself sucking on her nipples; he imagined feeling her stirring underneath him.
He could feel himself coming to life at the thought of it.
“Hardly the language one expects to hear from a lady,” he smiled, walking toward the head of the bed where she eagerly reached out, grasping his cock firmly in her small hands, squeezing it as she milked him back to life. She sat up on her knees and he watched her as she dribbled a line of saliva on his cock, both her hands rubbing the length of his cock, stoking him, before she took it fully into her mouth, but only briefly--enough to tease him. He could feel his cock growing as he watched her, wanted to pull himself into her mouth but she slapped his hands aside. He arched his back, willing it into her.
“I’ve never been much of a lady,” she said, looking at him as she began stroking his shaft again. “Besides, how many ladies do you know that take a lover in the afternoon, just for themselves?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Why does it not surprise me that you probably know that sort of woman?”
“The world needs more women who think like that.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Why? Do you think all women are willing to do what you’re doing here with me today?”
“Do you mean this?” she asked, sliding his cock into her mouth again, briefly, teasing him. “Does this make me a whore?”
“Not in the least,” he said, and she stopped, looking up at him.
“Is it really that pleasurable?”
“You have no idea,” he laughed, pulling away from her.
It was her turn to laugh, and sitting back up against the headboard she adjusted the pillow behind her. She pulled the bedsheet taut, sliding it down so that it covered the bottom half of her body. She sat crosslegged under the sheet—he could see her knees—slowly putting a finger in her mouth; sucking it.
He thought about Jenny briefly, wondering if she’d be as liberal a lover.
“Is that what this is for you, then? An interlude? An afternoon with a faun? A quick fuck with the Footman? Maybe a drilling by the driver?” he laughed.
“Do you think this will ever happen for me again?” she asked, and slid her hand under the sheet.
“You doubt it? Or you won’t let it?”
“A little of both, I should think.”
“So that’s it then?”
“I’m afraid so,” she replied, and he watched her face as she pleasured herself under the cover of the sheet.
Liberal, but not quite as free as she'd like.
“What if I say different?” he laughed, his erection growing as he watched her.
He crawled onto the bed and pulled the sheet back. He grabbed her hand and began sucking her wet fingers. Then he bent down and kissed her as she reached down and grabbed his hard cock, his pulse quickening as she stroked it, trying to pull him into herself. He reached over to the end table where she’d lain her stockings, and then grabbed her hips, pulling her down. She let out a scream of surprise and then laughed as he grabbed her wrists, wrapping the stockings around them. He pulled the stockings tight; lifting her hands over her head, he slipped them over the bedpost and then slid down her body. His hands wrapped around her hips and he half picked her up, rubbing his erection against her wet desire. He drove himself into her and she called out. He didn’t know if she called her husband’s name, his name, or God's for that matter, and he didn’t care. He dropped her body back down to the bed and sucked on the beads that were her nipples; he let himself slide down her body and then buried his face in her desire. Her hips immediately leaped up to meet him and she called out again. His hands closed around her breasts, pinching her nipples as she squirmed underneath him.
He stopped, looking over the swell of her breasts.
“What would you like me to do?”
“I want you to fuck me!”
And he complied.