“I rather prefer cherry jam in the mornings,” she admonished him, but grew silent as his mouth descended to its task, consuming the stickiness in long, slow strokes of his tongue.
He released her hands to move down her belly, his stubble grazing her softness. She opened and raised her legs in invitation, fully displayed, and watched his mouth sink to her shell-like lips, parting them with an extended tongue. He licked her there as he had done her breasts: lingering, lapping lazily, as if she were his dedicated plaything, and they had all the time in the world to enjoy such caresses. She surrendered herself to MacCaulay’s leisurely attentions, allowing him to do as he wished between her legs.
He reached deeply, pressing his nose into her fur and the moist valley, inhaling her sweet smell, intermingled with the saltiness of his own recent offering. She wriggled as he did so, pushing towards his face, so that he had no trouble sliding his tongue further. She moaned, her toes fluttering and curling, and urged him not to stop, lifting her bottom to his face in her desire to encourage his snake-like probing. His hands grasped her plump bottom, relishing her gyrations. She rubbed the nub of herself against the point of his tongue, ever faster, until she was clutching at his hair, embedding his face in her slit, and crying out so loudly that MacCaulay believed George must surely come to investigate the commotion. Her pleasure taken, she gasped and released him, sighing with contentment and stretching her body with languor.
MacCaulay rose quickly, catching the door to the breakfast room just as George was about to enter, assuring him that all was well and that Lady Franchingham had simply banged her elbow on the edge of some furniture.
“Very good M’Lord,” his trusty butler replied, “Should I bring some more tea?”
“Perhaps later,” MacCaulay smiled.
On turning, he saw that Maud had secreted herself under the table. She peered from below the cloth, concealing her merriment poorly. He helped her up and drew her to him, wrapping his dressing gown about them both, and laughing into the hair at the crown of her dainty head.
“Having taken my pleasure of you M’Lord,” she taunted, “I shall be on my way. Meanwhile, I believe your sister will not be long in returning.”
MacCaulay, however, had other plans. The warmth of her body pressed so delightfully against him that he decided one last act must be his. He spun her about and bent her quickly over the table: an assault to which she complied. Spreading her cheeks, he buried his face between them, that he might rim her tightest hole with his tongue. Pushing the tip within, he caused Maud to tremble and, having no desire to unduly hurt her, looked then for the butter dish. A handful was sufficient for his purpose, amply lubricating the anal crevice of her rump and allowing one finger entry. He progressed to further digits, until she appeared ripe and ready, returning the rhythm of his motion with evident pleasure.
Amidst the slipperiness of the butter - and with a further ration applied to his member - it was with ease that MacCaulay slid his phallus between her peaches. His bulbous end knocked only briefly at her door before being welcomed, sliding by inches within that intimate passage, causing the gentle lady to sigh and moan. He held her firmly about the hips, ensuring smooth progress, until he felt his cock happily buried. He began a steady motion, aware that his campaign required some care, despite the generous supply of breakfast lubricant.
However, it was not long before the lady was moving her haunches in a shameless manner, facilitating his labours greatly. He spread her buttocks then, that he might observe his turgid organ in its motions. Its employment was a sight to relish, pounding at the rosebud of Lady Maud Franchingham. She was clearly gratified by his efforts, reaching back through her legs to clasp his testicles, and urging him on with her own lewd thrusts.
With a final pump of his cream coated shaft, he spewed forth a pleasing torrent, his groan of satisfaction akin to that of a caveman taking his woman. At this, she gave his jewels a hearty squeeze, ground herself upon his pulsing sword, and uttered her own sob of delight. Breakfast could not have ended more satisfactorily.
Chapter Seventeen
Proposal
Having assisted Lady Maud in some semblance of appropriate attire, MacCaulay fell then upon his knees, imploring her to make him her slave if she might, but to allow him to always be at her side. Should she wish it, he would be honoured to make her his wife. If she required time to ponder, he would wait indefinitely; the latter offer he hoped to have spoken convincingly, since it was far from his dearest wish.
Her reply was immediate, “I have no need of a husband, other than as a show of respectability, and fear that I will never mend my ways Lord MacCaulay; I hope yet to have many more lovers. In fact, I am planning a trip to Europe for that very purpose, since each nation is known to have its own flavours and eccentricities. It would bring me pleasure for you to escort me – and your sister too. She is a sweet, dear soul, whose company lightens my heart.”
“My darling,” he beseeched her. “In that case, allow me to take you as my bride with only the intention of providing a veil of propriety. You may act as you wish once we are abroad, and I may ensure your safety. I ask only that I be present at each assignation, that you may come to no harm.”
His proposal seemed so bizarre that Maud let forth a peel of ringing laughter, but the notion appealed to her as one both practical and novel. To whit, she accepted, and allowed him to place a napkin ring about two of her fingers in token of his promise. They kissed once more and, having made arrangements to acquire a special license at the first opportunity, parted one from the other.
Lady Franchingham called to him as she entered her waiting carriage. “I know not how many verses we may play out; we may pen no more than a sonnet - but let us begin. We may yet write something worth the turning of the pages.”
Further Works by Emmanuelle de Maupassant
Soon for release:
The European Tour (Volume Two in the ‘Noire’ series)
365 Degrees
The French Ambassador’s Wife
Extracts and more – at www.emmanuelledemaupassant.com
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The Gentlemen's Club: Volume One in the 'Noire' series Page 10