Secrets of Alasdair House

Twenty minutes later we were out in the gardens, a veritable maze most hadn’t dared to brave. The night was too cool for most.

“I hope you can lead us back to civilization,” the brunette murmured. Her name proved to be Madeleine, which I gallantly murmured at all the right moments.

“After you show me how well-versed you are in being awful.”

“So thoroughly neither of us need be ashamed …” She said this between my kisses, while my hands worked at her gown and found the prize – a plump, pink-tinged breast, with a painted red nipple.

Ahh, darling Madeleine, you came prepared!” I breathed, flicking the impudent little tip with a light tongue and sucking hard when she drew in her breath.

“Harder, oh yes, please, harder,” she returned urgently, and I did, pressing her down and back into one of several little alabaster alcoves dotting the grounds. Perfect hiding places for wicked activities, like my tongue wrapping round and round her juicy areola.

“You … do that well,” sighed Madeleine, and I gave her a low laugh, taking her hand and placing it square over the tent between my legs. That brought a whole different sound from her, and her brown eyes opened, wide, as I looked up at her. Her breasts were out of her gown, spilling out full and creamy, and her legs were entangled with mine on the wide, agreeable bench. But not a hair was out of place on her head. That made me smile.

“So big,” came my lover’s gratifying gasp, and I gave her genuine hesitation at my size a fierce smile, reaching down to slide my hand up her firm stockinged legs. I found more to please me – she had no knickers on and the soft thatch of hair between her legs was boiling up, nice and frothy.

“So wet,” I responded, and she bit her lip, leaning back so I could tug her skirts up higher and get a look. The look in her eyes was hotly encouraging, an indulgent little smirk on her lips as she watched me admire her unladylike presentation. A lush brunette mound, the lips naturally parted with arousal and slick with readiness. I licked my lips, hard and fast.

“Let me get a taste,” I said, dodging down. She gasped, horrified.

“Are you mad? The smell –“

“Look at that ripe little quinny, Madeline!” The mocking disapproval was thick in my voice, but I could hardly wait to bury myself in the aroma. “I can’t very well not, it’s like saying no to the sweetest peach—“

I took a mouthful just as she let out a put-upon laugh and moaned as I took her firmly and steadily with my tongue. She tasted like sugared nuts and sea air, and wriggled, then held perfectly still as my tongue lathered her, up, up, and down, round the swollen teat until I heard her sucking in air in quick little pants.

“Oh my, oh Mr. Roman, oh, how awful, how dirty, how could you—“

The look on her face made me hungrier, the hot, hard throb of my cock wanting to pummel inside her along with my tongue. She looked disgusted and besotted at the same time, clearly torn between how degrading her position was splayed in a garden and how very good I was at my task.

“Spill for me,” I commanded, breathing fast into her cunt, and she began to shake, losing herself, grabbing my shoulders. I kept lathing, watching as she fell hard around me, pink sweaty thighs trapping my head, brown curls mashed about my nose.

“Oh – oh – put it in me, put that nasty thing in me, please, please—“

Every tortured little mewl from her swollen lips made my cock twitch hard, eager to oblige. I stood, yanked my breeches open, and kissed her hard as I took myself in hand and rubbed the hard swollen tip up and down her slick petals before shoving in hard and high. Hot bliss met me, clenching and steaming around my rod in the cool night air, her wide, plump breasts bouncing in my face. Madeleine squeezed her eyes closed tight, biting her lips hard as I fucked her. I dropped my eyes to watch myself slip in and out, coated in her slickly, drowning in cunt.

Her legs were a sight, raised back against herself so I could get all the way inside, but judging by the low hungry noises she made the position was perfectly agreeable. I had split her wide open and the presentation was delicious.

“Oh, I’m coming again, again,” squealed my partner, and she grabbed her own breasts and let loose a wild little shriek I barely managed to silence with my mouth. Her tongue met mine, sloppy and drunken, and we fucked on, my hips working hard into her, until my own climax came, and I shuddered, groaning my satisfaction into her mouth as my semen coated her from the inside out. In the damp and sticky aftermath, I smiled down at her, watching her fan herself, flushing and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot myself,” she fretted, pressing her palms to her damp face. I brushed that away, leaning forward, still inside her, enjoying the wet, sucking noise her sex made. I pulled out, then pushed back in, enjoying the extra pain of oversensitivity mingled with pleasure. I had always liked to test things.

“I forgot myself right along with you. Well done, lovely,” I praised her, kissing her fondly as I fucked her slowly, half soft inside her.

“Ooooh,” murmured Madeleine, and I moved around inside some more, happy to offer her the pleasurable filling I knew women enjoyed after a good orgasm.

“Does your little quinny like that?” I said, softly, taking a glorious teat to my lips and suckling, while she breathed in deep, her inner muscles clutching around me.

“Oh, yes … what a beautiful large prick you’ve got, Mr. Roman,” she breathed, eyes wide and happy, and I laughed, taking one last suck before letting the lovely breasts go. I raised a brow.

“Have you had children, or am I mistaken?”

That drew an airy sigh of dismissal as she lay there, gathering her reserves. “Just one, I went away to Bath and recovered, the child was arranged for some time ago. However can you tell?”

I saw a flicker of worry in her eyes. A man can always tell, but I didn’t want to upset her. “It’s just these glorious breasts, they are so deliciously large,” I said instead, sneaking in another suckle. She laughed and slapped me away, and I finally leaned back, catching her eyes with mine.

Watch,” I said. There is nothing more beautiful to me than the gratuitousness of sex, its physical evidence in bodily fluids, the sensitive and burning nerve endings, the red and pulsing surfaces and membranes. My eyes caught hers, then directed them to where we joined, our groins glistening.

“Spread yourself for me,” I murmured, taking her hands. I placed one at her thigh, another at the crown of her mound. Taking my suggestion, she pressed herself open for me at leg and sex, her outer labia gaping as I ever so slowly began to pull out. I watched the reverse penetration, her pretty little fingers pale and firm, holding her sex open so we could both enjoy the sight as I worked my burrowed flesh back out.

“Oh, my god, my god, you feel wonderful!” Came her longing moans, watching as I moved, mostly flaccid, coated in her juices and my cream.

“What do you think?” I watched her face for the answer. Wonder and prim offense at the sight of bodily fluids filled her face in equal measure, enough to make me start to harden again inside her even as I slid out. Her mouth, red and wet with my kisses, hung open until the last, delicious pop of the head of my cock came, a wet, sluggish sound. A runnel of creamy fluid accompanied it, oozing from the lower edge of her spread slit. The sight made me harden immediately.

“My gown!” Madeleine cried, belatedly, but I shushed her, kneeling over her immediately, licking away. I dug my tongue into the bottom most crevices, inhaling her scent – sweat, labor, femininity, naughty, wicked things – and looked up at her, watching that same disgust and exultant pleasure tangle up in her face, until at last a demure smile overtook her and the deed was done.

“Your filthy little pussy is all clean, now,” I declared, rising again to lean back. “Shall you return the favor?”