The Pope stood up and clapped his hands yet again. There was a gradual slowing down of the tempo in the hall. Reluctantly, the remaining couples recognized that someone had succeeded. There was a cascade of fresh 'plops' as one after another they followed up their achievement. Now they were in a hurry for the last to succeed was to be refused sexual intercourse for two months.
One by one the apples were swallowed in expanding clefts. At last all the apples had been confined in their moist and temporary dwelling-places. The servants stood up, showing off the extended proportions of their stimulated stems.
“Right, honorable gentlemen,” the Pope addressed himself to the guests. “I'm sure you'll all agree we've just witnessed a delicious spectacle. What will happen to the apples? Well, gentlemen, it's not often that you can have tasted the finest fruit inundated with the finest love-juice. So the ladies will now pass over their delectable morsels for your gourmet taste.”
With that, the courtesans divested themselves of their fruit as if dropping babies from their wombs. Some squatted and ejected the apples with a straining effort into their hands; others opened their slits with their fingers and pulled out the fruit that way; others still allowed their partners to spread their nether lips and pull out the slippery spheres.
Each of the women then carried her issue to the long banqueting table and presented it to a man of her choice-a cardinal, a knight, a baron, whoever took her fancy.
The apples were wet, slightly slimy. Each recipient eagerly took the fruit, raised it to the donor and then bit into it with relish, swallowing great mouthfuls.
The courtesans watched with gleaming eyes, smiling at the avidity with which the orbs from their crying orifices were munched in the mouths of the princes and prelates.
Alexander gave a fresh order and the woman who had first managed to suck the apple from her bloated branch looked around at the specimens of genital rigidity. They were of all lengths and thicknesses-little to choose between them. She walked among them, feeling them for heat and fleshiness and eventually she chose that of a handsome young man whose prick was so shaped that it grew thicker and thicker from knob to base. Thus she would be ensured of fresh delight and surprise through all its length.
At a sign from the Pope, the servant pushed the woman face forwards over the banquet table. He seized a banana from a cluster in a nearby basket and thrust it into her exposed channel from behind. In and in he jogged it while the spread-eagled strumpet wriggled against the heavily draped edge of the table in front of a hundred pairs of high-ranking eyes.
For some minutes the servant shoved the banana into her, holding it by one ripe, yellow end until it had almost disappeared. Then he withdrew it at last and with the first sign of animation he'd shown, rammed his tapering prick into her moist cleft.
The ladies present didn't know which to look at most, his handsome, passion-wracked face or his enormous, penetrating penis. They watched in a thigh-rubbing fascination as he thrust deeper and deeper and the woman, bent under him, her breasts crushed against the table, groaned and pleaded for more.
He had settled down to a steady, moan-drawing rhythm, gripping her table-flattened hips, pulling at the same time as lower down he pushed, before Alexander glanced at where Lady Manfredi was wriggling on her seat, a slight smile on her lips.
“It pleases you to see such a scene?” he whispered with a smile.
“I can think of only one thing to please me better,” she whispered back, glancing significantly at the place where his organ was hidden by his robes.
“We needn't wait for the end,” he said. “Cardinal Rovere will take over.”
“Let's go then,” she said. “I can't wait.”
CHAPTER 10
Against the disturbing scene of national and international events which saw Charles of France claim Naples and advance with his enormous army down upon Italy, the domestic carnality of the Borgia family continued.
While the Pope was trying to gain time by refusing passage to the French troops, and then giving way when Charles, supported now by the unruly northern barons, made it clear he would brook no refusal, Lucrezia, tiring of her young husband, had reverted to relations with her brothers whom she still found-with her father-the most sexually exciting of men.
Her two favorites were still her brother Cesare and, now, his younger brother Giovanni, the Duke of Gandia. She had seen very little of Giovanni in her youth as he had spent even more time away at his studies than Cesare. During his young manhood, however, he had been brought back to Rome and had been kept in close attendance on the Pontiff, while Charles of France, reveling too early in his victory on Naples, had been cut off from the north by allied States and attacked from the south by the Spanish under Gonzalo de Cordoba.
Charles had escaped from the trap somewhat precipitously by the skin of his teeth leaving King Federigo of Aragon to be crowned in Naples behind him.
Throughout this period, Cesare and-unknown to his brother-Giovanni, had been sharing their beautiful sister during a long holiday she was taking from her husband in Rome.
It was only two nights before the two brothers were due to leave Rome together to the crowning of Federigo that Cesare arrived, unexpectedly, at the apartment that Lucrezia had been given by her father. He let himself in, discreetly, with the key he'd had made for his own purposes, and walked into the apartment to find Lucrezia spread-eagled on a couch, her knees pulled up almost touching her breasts, urging her sweating brother Giovanni to greater efforts to satisfy her.
'They were making such a bustle with their squirmings and pantings that neither was aware of his presence until he spoke.
“I had no idea that we were all so in love with the family.”
His cutting tones broke through their abandonment and brought them both to a standstill. They lay together on the couch, staring at him in confusion. Lucrezia slowly put her legs down from their exaggerated position. Both lay, nude and panting, in a momentary, shocked silence.
Lucrezia gathered her wits first.
“Cesare, darling, you surely didn't think your rights on me were exclusive.” She gave a little laugh at the monstrosity of the thought and smoothed her round belly with her hand.
“I didn't expect to find my own brother sticking his prick in you.” His tone was hostile, controlled but dangerous. Again it was Lucrezia who spoke.
“You're sounding very moral all of a sudden, dear,” she said smoothly. “After all, Giovanni knows all about you and he doesn't mind.” She laughed again as if she was thoroughly enjoying the situation. She swung her legs off the couch and came toward Cesare, her big breasts pointing out at him. His eyes flickered. He was furious. It had shocked him to find his brother with her. He didn't analyze his feelings, but his reaction was very simple: he was consumed with a sudden, hating jealousy.
Lucrezia reached him and put her arms around his neck.
“I'm surprised at you, darling,” she said. “You sound jealous-anyone would think you were my husband.” She laughed a third time. Cesare caught her arms, holding the flesh so hard that she cried out. He pulled them from his neck and pushed her away-from him.
“You're just a whore,” he snarled at her.
Lucrezia colored, her eyes pinpointed, but she kept control of herself.
“You're being quite ridiculous, Cesare,” she snapped. “I think you'd better go and come back some evening when you've got a sense of proportion and reality.”
She looked around at Giovanni, who had slid slowly off the couch in front of them. “Besides,” she added spitefully, “Giovanni and I have some business to finish.”