Passionate Pleasures (4 page)

He followed the sound of her voice through the maze. His cock was already straining against the satin of his breeches. The little vixen had been taunting him for weeks now. She was so exciting, so different from his wife, the insipid daughter of their neighbor, the duke of Malincourt. She bored him so greatly it was difficult to get hard for her so he might take his marital rights, and beget an heir. But with his father’s young wife he found it difficult to keep his cock from swelling fully. The mere sound of her voice made him hard with desire.

He heard a faint rustling to his left, and turned to see a flash of blue silk. He hurried around the hedge. “I’m coming to get you, Kathy,” he repeated. Her laughter tinkled in his ears.

“You’re getting warmer,” she teased. “And my cunny is getting wetter just thinking about you, Robbie. Hurry and find me.”

He undid the buttons on his breeches, releasing his cock. Ohh, he was going to fuck her hard, but first he would spank her arse until she begged for his mercy. She deserved it for bedeviling him so, ever since he and Jemima had returned from the London season. His eye caught sight of a dainty slipper peeping from a hedge corner. Slipping about the greenery he found her, back to him, listening for his approach. He fastened one arm about her narrow waist while his other hand plunged beneath her neckline to grasp one of her delicious, full breasts.

Kathy squealed. “Ohh, you bad man, you have caught me!”

“Indeed, madame, I have,” he agreed. He squeezed the breast, and then, removing his hand, turned her about to kiss her full, seductive lips. Then, grasping her hand, he pulled her along, bringing them successfully out of the maze into the far recesses of the gardens and to a marble bench. Seating himself, he pulled her over his knees, pulled up her skirt and petticoats so he might carry out his threat to spank her. Her bottom was plump and a perfect peach. He wondered if his father had rutted between the twin halves, but that would be for another day. His big hand descended several times.

“Ohhh,” she half sobbed, “you are too cruel, Robbie.” But she wiggled against him, further arousing him.

He gave her several more hard spanks, enough to know her clit was probably tingling at this point. Then he tipped her onto her feet again, surprised when Kathy picked up her skirts and fled him. He knew, of course, where she was going, and followed her to the cool, darkened hay barn. Catching her again, he threw her down into a large pile of sweet-smelling hay and yanked her skirts up practically over her head.

“Ohh, you are a wicked boy!” Lady St. John scolded him.

“You are a wicked wench,” he countered, grasping his engorged cock in his hand.

“Ohh, you dare not fuck me!” she pretended to object.

“Aye, I dare!” he growled at her. “I shall fuck you hard, and I shall fuck you deep, madame. And you will beg me for more when I am finished with you.”

“Nay, darling,” Lady St. John said. “You will beg me.” And she laughed. “I shall make you weep like a schoolboy, Robbie. Now fuck me!”

And he did. Driving his thick length into her over and over again until she came with a shriek of delight. But he was not satisfied, and so he fucked her further. It was then that Lady St. John began to torment him, wrapping her silk-clad legs about him, squeezing the foraging cock tightly again and again until he began to whimper with his pleasure. She held off his release until he was almost mad with his lust. Only then did she let him come, and he flooded her. He sighed gustily. “Great God, Kathy, that was incredible! Why is it I can’t wait to fuck you, and my own wife cannot engage my lust?”

“I have no idea, Robbie. Jemima seems pretty and affable enough,” Lady St. John answered him. “Try harder with her, please. Your father wants you to have an heir.” Pushing down her skirts, she stood up. “That was lovely, darling, but I must go. Your father will wonder where I have gotten to, for he is most solicitous of my well-being.”

“Don’t go,” he begged her. “I want more!”

“You may have more later, but not now,” Lady St. John said, and then she hurried from the darkened hay barn, returning to the great manor house. She knew exactly where her husband would be at this time of day. Entering the house, she hurried up the stairs to the bedroom floor. Reaching the corridor, she stopped and listened. She heard the low pants and the soft grunting coming from the linen cupboard. Opening it, she found her husband, the woman with him on her knees sucking vigorously on Henry St. John’s cock. She assumed it was one of the maids, until the woman raised her head slightly, and Lady St. John stared into the startled eyes of Jemima St. John. “Oh, how deliciously naughty,” she murmured low. “Well, it can’t be comfortable in this cupboard. Get on your feet, girl! Take him by his cock, and bring him along to my bedchamber.”

“Lusty wench, my wife,” Sir Henry said. “Come on, ’Mima. Kathy will know how to give us all a good time before dinner.”

Not knowing what else to do, Jemima grasped her father-in-law’s now stiff cock, and following Lady St. John, led him to the suggested chamber. The doors to the chamber were firmly locked and at Sir Henry’s suggestion the trio disrobed entirely, although the ladies retained their silk stockings and garters. Jemima was ordered to lie upon Lady St. John’s bed. Sir Henry mounted his daughter-in-law as his wife moved so that her cunt was directly over Jemima’s head.

“Lick and suck her, girl,” his lordship ordered as he began to fuck Jemima. “You’ll not come until she is ready to come. And if you don’t make her come, I’ll see that groom who fancies you, and whom you dislike so, has a go at you. Now use your tongue, girl. I can attest it’s a skillful one.”

Jemima St. John did indeed have an expert tongue. Reaching up, she pulled Lady St. John’s nether lips apart and directed the tip of that artful tongue to Kathryn’s clitoris. Her tongue swirled and encircled it, teasing the tiny nub of flesh until it began to burgeon and swell. It occurred to her that she could taste her husband’s cum on the lady’s flesh. Had the wretch been fucking his stepmother? She nipped at the now swollen bud and Kathryn squealed.

“Make me come, you little bitch!” Lady St. John hissed. “Do not dare to keep me waiting another minute! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh! Oh, that is good! More! I want more! Release your cream, Henry. She’s pleasuring me well. Ah! Oh! Ohhhh!”

Sir Henry found Jemima’s special spot, and worked it hard. She shrieked with her delight, and content that they had all been well satisfied, he came with a shout. When they had recovered from their bout of Eros and restored themselves with wine laced with aphrodisiacs, Kathryn sucked her husband’s cock to a stand, and then lay beneath Jemima, suckling on her large nipples while Sir Henry ass-fucked his daughter-in-law until she came with a screech.

“It is almost the dinner hour,” Lady St. John remarked. “Leave me now so we may all dress.” She watched as, gathering up their garments and putting them on quickly, Sir Henry and Jemima left her. “That’s enough for tonight,” Kathryn said. “Channel off!” Back in her own bed, she pressed the CLOSE button on the remote and watched as the doors on the cabinet shut. It had been a most satisfying night, and she was relaxed enough now to sleep. She really loved The Channel. It didn’t matter how old she got, it would be there for her. And there were no obligations once she turned it off. It was perfect!

T
he twelve-year-old beige-colored Ford Contour eased off the treed parkway at the exit marking Egret Pointe. Timothy Blair’s blue eyes took in the countryside as he drove into the village. He had only been here briefly once before. The place was almost too perfect, he thought, with its wide main street edged in tall, ancient trees, and the charming shops that lined it. Hell, there was even an ice-cream parlor. As he slowed down, Rowdy awoke from his place on the backseat and sat up with a low
gruff
.

“Like it or lump it, boy—this is our new home,” he said to the dog.

Rowdy whined and thumped his tail.

Tim scanned the main drag, and then he saw it. Country Real Estate. He pulled into the space directly in front of the office and parked his car. Getting out of his vehicle, he opened the back door of it, and Rowdy bounded out. “Stay!” Tim commanded the shaggy dog, then bending, clipped a leash to Rowdy’s collar. “Now behave yourself,” he instructed the animal.

Rowdy pulled on the leash, and lifting his leg peed on the trunk of the tree before the real estate office.

Tim chuckled and, dog in tow, walked into the building. “I’m looking for Mrs. Kirk,” he said to the woman at the front desk.

“Are you Mr. Blair?” she asked, and then without waiting for an answer added, “I’m Doris Kirk. Welcome to Egret Pointe, Mr. Blair.”

“Thanks,” he replied.

“I wasn’t aware you had a dog,” Mrs. Kirk said.

“This is Rowdy,” Tim told her. “Rowdy, shake!”

The seated dog offered a paw to Mrs. Kirk, whose serious demeanor suddenly vanished as she took the paw and shook it before patting Rowdy on his head.

“I had several rentals to show you, Mr. Blair, but most of them won’t take dogs, I’m afraid,” she told him.

“I didn’t consider that,” he admitted. “I’ve lived in the same prewar building in the city for years, and there was no problem.”

“Well, there is the Torkelsen cottage over on Wood’s End Way,” Mrs. Kirk said. “Martha was a widow, and she just died. Her kids don’t live here anymore. They decided to rent the place out until they can make a decision what to do with it. It’s surprisingly up to date. Martha was an incredible cook, and the kitchen is wonderful. It’s little. Two bedrooms, one a decent size, the other small. But it does have a fireplace in the living room, and a garage. You can actually walk to the Middle School from there.”

“Let’s go look,” Tim said. “I’ll follow you in my own car. I don’t want Rowdy shedding all over someone else’s upholstery.”

Mrs. Kirk took a key from the key rack on the wall by her desk. “My car’s the one right in front of yours,” she said as she locked up her office.

He got Rowdy back in the car, and followed Mrs. Kirk, who drove a BMW convertible. Business must have been good for Country Real Estate, Tim thought wryly, as he followed her off of the main street, down another street to the right, turning right again, and then finally left onto Wood’s End Way. It was a dead-end street that ended in a treed woodland. The few houses on the street were neat and nicely kept. They stopped at the last house on the left, and to his surprise Tim felt an immediate affinity for the dwelling even before going inside.

It was a cottage, but it had charm and had been very well kept up. Getting out of his car, he opened the back door and took up Rowdy’s leash to let him out. There was very little front lawn to the house because the garden beds on either side of the structure were wide and filled to overflowing with plants, giving them the appearance of English gardens.

The cottage was white painted brick with a dark slate roof. There was a bay window with a copper roof on its left. The window on the right was a four over four with black shutters on either side. The front door was painted red, and had a large brass knocker.

Mrs. Kirk took out her key, and opening the door, ushered them into a small central hallway. It was painted a cheerful pale yellow and had a white chair rail. “The living room is here to the left,” she said.

Tim stepped into the room, which was also painted pale yellow. The bay window had a window seat with a tufted floral cushion. The fireplace mantel and its surround were white. The floors were wide board and varnished. Properly furnished, it would be a charming room in which to entertain.

“The smaller bedroom is directly across the hall,” Mrs. Kirk said as she led the way. The room had two windows: the large one facing the front, and a small one on the side of the house. It was paneled in a light wood. “I think this would actually make a wonderful den,” the real estate agent said. “Mrs. Torkelsen used it as a dining room because her kitchen is directly behind it.” She opened a second door at the rear of the room, and they stepped into a very modern kitchen. The stove had six burners and a grill, along with two ovens. The refrigerator was large. There was a dishwasher and a double sink, one side of which was deep. Mrs. Kirk pulled back a louvered door, revealing a stackable washer and dryer. “As you can see, the kitchen has everything—even granite counters.”

“It’s very nice,” Tim said. He had never expected to find anything quite like this in Egret Pointe.

“Let me show you the master bedroom,” Mrs. Kirk said. “It’s got a wonderful walk-in closet. Did I mention the house has a cellar beneath it? And there is some storage space above. The entry pulls down there.” She pointed as they reached the rear of the center hall. “And here’s the larger bedroom.”

Tim stepped into the room and looked about. There were three windows: one on the side, and two at one end that looked out into a rear yard with woods behind it. Mrs. Kirk opened the door to the closet and turned on a light. Then she pointed out the house’s single bathroom, which, like the kitchen, was quite up to date, with a claw-foot tub, a separate glass and tile shower, a sink set in a cabinet, and a commode.