No, he preferred that this should be done in the home where he was born and where he expected to die, where he hoped-God willing- his children would be born and where he expected to share his hours of happiness and his moments of sadness-there are some for all of us- with those he loved.
CHAPTER TWO
The carriage rolled merrily through the streets of Paris, and soon it had left the town.
The clickety-clack of the horses' hooves, the pleasure awaiting him, and the presence of this young innocent thing who was now Madame George Vaudrez made his head spin. He took the little hands of his young wife between his own and squeezed them tenderly. From time to time he bent his head forward and kissed the pretty little forehead which had just become his very own property. She accepted his advances without blushing and without any sign of embarrassment. In short, she was as chaste as anyone could have wished. Anyone, that is, but George Vaudrez. He did not belong to the sentimental class. He was a man of few words and he liked his women honest and down to earth. Lately he had been having trouble, and by marrying Florentine he had hoped to be able to restore his flagging powers. It had been a few months since he had had his last female. She had been an earthy peasant girl, and he had lured her into his bed with promises of wealth and riches.
He could still remember this encounter. Her arms and legs had clamped around his body as if they were tight screws. She had tried to squeeze him into her body even deeper than he had already penetrated.
George was getting hot at the mere remembrance of this encounter, and he squeezed his wife's hands more ardently, his kisses became more passionate, and he could barely wait for the carriage to arrive at his mansion's front door.
The warm hand of his young bride stirred George's imagination, and he sank in reveries, dreaming about his last bout with the peasant girl. He had sworn not to see her again, and save all his remaining strength for his wedding night. But, his mind weakened, and the proceedings of that night forced themselves vividly upon his mind and body. He could actually feel the firm thighs clamping around his waist. He closed his eyes and he could see Nanette as clearly as he had seen her that night. She lay there, spread-eagled on his bed, waiting for more. Her eyes were closed and her golden hair fell down in strands across her voluptuous shoulders and large breasts. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, giving him a full view of her rounded belly, her wide, yawning cleft, covered with moist curly hairs. The view had excited him tremendously. Her heaving bosom and her panting breath, the fingers clawing the bed sheets, and her feet planted firmly against the bed board, her full behind lifted up and rotating slowly in hot desire, had given him immense pleasure.
“Oh, God!” George woke up from his reveries. The enormous bulge in his pants betrayed his thoughts, and it was too late to stop thinking about his dear, exciting Nanette. He glanced at his bride who sat next to him with a faint smile around her lips, looking at the countryside.
He had turned Nanette slowly around. The girl was almost lifeless and allowed herself to be put upon her stomach without any struggle.
Her behind was fabulous. The two snow-white globes were full and firmer, and as snow white as her fantastic breasts. He had begun to stroke them, softly at first. Then he started to squeeze and grab. His hands were filled with firm resilient female flesh. He had positioned himself behind her, his knees resting upon her heavy, well-rounded calves. It was with great difficulty that he had succeeded in sticking his fingers between the large derriere. The buttocks were firmly pressed against one another.
“Oh, this beautiful behind,” he thought. “Oh, marvelous, to squeeze it with one hand, and jack off with the other.”
But Nanette seemed to come out of her torpor.
“What happened? Did I fall asleep? Yes? Oh, but surely only for a little while. Dear God, what a marvelous fuck that was. I can still feel your prick deep inside my cunt. Where is the sweet little one? Aah, there he is.”
She played with his prick, causing it to stand up again, and her fingers slowly squeezed his balls, one finger straying all the way down into his rectum, slowly inserting it and slowly pulling it back.
“Oh, Seigneur,” she had said, “that one will be as hard as ever in just a moment. The gentlemen are so much better than the peasants I have to go with. You made me come at least ten times before you squirted yourself. Please, do it again to me. Yes, yes… that's it. Another hard-on. Oh, please, please, come quickly. I'm sure you can do it again.”
Her hands had grabbed him and she tried to hold George's buttocks, ready to help him push it in up to the hilt. But, this time George intended to make it last even longer. “Don't take your finger out of there,” he commanded. “Keep it there, and give me a nice massage while I am pumping you.”
“Jesus, I've never tried that before. Are you sure you'd like that? Here, is that what you want?” she had asked, obediently sticking her finger in his asshole, and gently massaging it.
“Yes, yes,” he panted, “and now move it back and forth… fuck me in the ass with your finger… yes, that's it… stronger, harder… oh, my God, dear God, I am getting fucked on both sides…”
Nanette got a new idea. “Listen, can you fuck me in my behind?”
“I'll be delighted,” George had answered, “but I must warn you that your asshole is much narrower than your cunt, and it may hurt you terribly.”
“I don't care. It sounds terribly exciting, and I want you to do it!” She had pushed him away from her and quickly turned around, kneeling on the bed, resting upon her forearms. Her heavy breasts swung excitedly, the big tips almost touching the mattress. With a little bit of spittle and a lot of pressure, George succeeded in penetrating the inviting little orifice.
“Ooh, I would never have believed that such a big prick could get in my tiny asshole,” Nanette whimpered. But the novelty of the situation soon got her very excited and she slowly rotated her huge buttocks. “Ooh, it's all the way in… I can feel it. My God, it's pushing against my heart… it feels as if it is going to come out my throat. Please, hold on to my tits… pinch my nipples… harder, harder!” She had spread her big cheeks with both hands, and was furiously pushing backwards. “Quick, quicker,” she panted, “push it in as deep as you can. Ooh, good, I can feel your big prick filling me up all over. Jesus, I am coming, and you haven't even touched my cunt… I'm coming again… I'm getting wet without having anything in my cunt… oh, God, it's fantastic to have your big prick pumping in my behind.” In her excitement, Nanette squeezed her buttocks firmly together and George could no longer hold back. His fingers dug hard into her fleshy bosom. His belly smacked wildly against her firm buttocks and he could feel his climax coming. Nanette had clamped his balls firmly between her buttocks, and while Nanette released a stream of gasping cries, George groaned agonizingly, clenching his fingers into her enormous tits.
The memory of that night caused a swarming sensation in George's loins and he gasped inaudibly, feeling his penis burst into a thousand pieces. He fought for breath and consciousness, felt himself slowly regain both.
“Oh, my Lord,” George thought. “How am I ever going to get through my wedding night?” He felt wrung out, and was sure that he could not perform his conjugal duties that night.
The new husband lifted his wife from the carriage. They were greeted by a discreet, kindly-looking chambermaid whose features were irreproachable, but whose eyes twinkled and said much more.
Florentine's room was ready and waiting for her. The most delicate and exquisite furniture had been brought together there.
“Oh, you are so sweet to me,” said the young bride with conviction. They were both sitting in her new apartments, after a most carefully planned dinner, and Florentine poured a cup of tea for her husband of several hours.