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 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 doubt, had been primed to do so by the Comte.
“Indeed, has such a delicious young lady then been so neglected?” inquired our host in the most courteous manner. Gurgling all the more and with her head hung back, Elaine was meanwhile being even more closely attended to. I knew then how little all had been arranged, but sensed that what was to follow did not come about by accident or the mere fervour of the moment. Clapping his hands, the Comte then caused the door to open and a seeming twin of the Grecian maid to appear. Wafting across the room silently while her robe billowed out to display the delectable nudity beneath-she moved immediately behind Elaine's chair and to only the feeblest beating of hands of my cousin all by ripped the front of her gown open so that the milky gourds of her breasts were fully displayed. Reaching then beneath Elaine's armpits, she drew her up and sideways so that her chair faltered and fell.
All was then to be seen-her open legs, the lower fringe of her black corset, the muff of her quim, her silky thighs whose whiteness was made all the more sensuous by the black of her stockings. Therewith also the first maid slithered from beneath the table and grasped the ankles of Elaine who squealed and cried out much as any virgin might who was displayed to the assembled company.