by MIMI WILDE
Of course the answer was obvious. Her husband would never kiss her this way.
She was suddenly aware of a servant standing in the corner and she gently pushed him away. Her face was red and her breathing came in short gasps. Her nipples were as hard and achy as she had ever felt them. It took every ounce of her willpower not to strip off her dress and give into her base desires right there at the table.
Somehow she controlled it. The servants came to take the trays away. There was a lot of giggling and looking in her direction. She was suddenly ashamed. She stood up. On weak legs, she left the room and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. There was a lock on the door, but she didn’t lock it. She didn’t wait for help but stripped off her dress and stretched out on her bed in her chemise.
She felt a little like a sacrificial lamb in some pagan ceremony.
She knew he would come and he would find her half-naked on her bed. He would come and she would give into him. She wouldn’t fight. She hadn’t the strength to fight. Perhaps something of the African heat had gotten into her blood, into her bones, and left her hungry for more.
She only knew she had never felt a sexual rush as she was feeling now.
But he didn’t come. Incredibly, her door didn’t open. Not even her servant came.
Oh Lord, she moaned. She wanted him to come. She needed him to come. She wanted to be covered by him. It seemed like hours passed. The wine and kisses had left an incredible heat between her legs.
“Why doesn’t he come?” she screamed in frustration.
But he still didn’t come. The night passed. Her hand slipped down her legs. As she had done as a little girl, when she was first discovering her sex, her fingers touched herself. She was so wet. Why was she so wet? Her fingers parted her velvet lips. In her mind she pretended it was John Gilbert. She pretended he was on top of her, stroking, and then ready to cover her.
“I need him,” she whispered.
She began working her fingers in and out of herself quickly.
Her orgasm made her shudder, but it was quick and not very satisfying. It also left her feeling ashamed, as if she had no control over her own body.
“Damn him,” Lady Josephine whispered. “Damn him.”
…..
At breakfast she was alone. She finally broke down and asked where John Gilbert was.
“He’s out this morning,” the slim servant girl told her. Nothing else.
He came back for lunch, his heavy rifle over his shoulder and two safari boys carrying a wild boar on a long stick.
“The one Lord Samuels was trying to shoot,” Gilbert said. “I doubt he’ll be going out again, and I needed to stop it from raiding some of the crops.”
“He’s big,” Josephine said.
She was bitterly angry at him for not coming to her room, but she tried not to let it show in her voice. She was still a lady, after all. She would not give him any satisfaction in knowing how he had left her so frustrated.
“We should go get my husband now,” she said.
“I sent a runner,” John said. “He’s doing fine, but he’s still not ready to move around.”
“Then I should be with him?”
“Why? Afraid of spending another night alone with me?”
“Of course not,” she said.
The evening meal was a repeat of the night before except this time it was wild pig, and again a different kind of taste the had ever known. But it was the same red wine and the same conversation, and the same quick kisses at the end of the meal.
And exactly the same result, with her half asleep and hungry for more of his kisses, but spending the night alone in her room. She felt stupid and angry that she had allowed him to frustrate her again.
At breakfast that day he told her one of his servants would be driving her to be with her husband that afternoon. He himself was taking an overnight trip.
“I would pack your bags,” he said. “From the way your husband is talking, he wants to get back to England and out of this wretched country as quickly as possible.”
Lady Josephine was tired and irritable and mostly feeling less than satisfied. She had a feeling she would never be satisfied again, especially if she never saw John Gilbert.
“I’ve never slept outside overnight,” she said. “I mean; I’ve never slept in a tent.”
His eyes showed with an amused arrogance.
“Oh, really? Are you suggesting you’d like to go?”
“Yes,” she said, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.
“It would just be you and me,” he said. “No servants this time. It’s pretty rough.”
She looked him in the eyes. “I’m sure you’d take care of me.”
…..
It was not at all she expected.
It was only a two-hour hike through some really beautiful country and they ended up at a small pond and a waterfall. A huge tent was already put up and a safari boy was stirring something in black cauldron. And it was cool. The trees around the clearing and pond gave good shade, and there was a breeze from the water. The waterfall pouring down over rocks was a pleasant sound.
Their lunch was fish from the pond. She didn’t ask what kind it was, but it was delicious. She tried to think about what she was doing, or what Lord Samuels might say. Back home there was stability, servants who lived and worked in their manor, and everyone was done according to rules. Out here there were no rules.
In the evening they had fish again and the safari boy disappeared, and she was left alone sitting in canvas chairs by a fire, alone with John.
“Are you a true lady of the manor?” John Gilbert asked.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Josephine said.
“Do you get up each morning and give out instructions for the day? Does a servant help you dress? Do the people fall all over themselves being nice when you go downtown?”
“Some of those things,” she admitted.
“And you pleasure your husband like a lady of the manor? In the dark, with the lights off. Has he ever seen you completely nude.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, there are certain proprieties.”
“Have you ever kissed his cock like the French girls do?”
Josephine gasped. “You’re no gentleman.”
He laughed harshly. “You’re damn right. I’m not gentleman. And out here there are proprieties. Out here there’s only man and his woman. No rules. No society.”
“I understand,” Josephine said.
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Not yet. But you will before the night is over.”
He stood up and walked into the tent, leaving her by the fire. In a moment, she stood up and followed. The tent was big enough for several cots and a lot of blankets piled up on the floor. He had sat on one of the blankets. He poured brandy into a glass as he looked up her.
“Take my boots off,” he said roughly.
She had been born a pureblood, related to royalty, of rich parents, and seldom in her life had she ever removed her own boots. Yet, she could not seem to refuse this man. She went down on her knees and she grabbed one leather boot and tugged on it. It took a lot of straining before she got it off. Then she tugged the other off.
Outside something moved through the brush and uttered a kind of coughing noise, and she froze.
“It’s just a big cat of some kind,” John Gilbert said. “He won’t bother us.”
His confidence helped her fears.
He leaned back on the blankets. “Come up here and kiss me.”
Not a request. She recognized he was a man who seldom made requests. She didn’t mind. A part of her relegalized he had teased her until she was out of her mind, ready to do anything he desired. It had been a game with him. It should have made her feel ashamed. Instead, it only added to her desire.
Lady Josephine Samuels slid up his body and hungrily fastened her lips to his. This time there was no hesitation as his tongue thrust into her mouth. She gave herself into the kiss comple
tely, and it sent shivers throughout her body. Her husband’s kisses were less than passionate and inexperienced. John kissed her with a fierceness that took her breath away. His arms went around her and his taunt muscles captured her in savage embrace she could not escape. Not that she wanted too.
He crushed her against him so savagely that she could hardly breathe, and her sensitive nipples grew hard as rock. He finally released her and she sucked in her breath, but her respite wasn’t going to be for long. He rolled her onto her back in the bundle of blankets and raised up over her.
“No games with me, Lady Samuels,” he said. “And no time for niceties. Show me those fine tits.”
His language was right out of the gutter, and so was his manner. She didn’t care. His words fueled her desire. The simple dress she had worn had buttons down the front and she tore at them. Her shaking fingers couldn’t get them undone fast enough, and he helped her by gripping the material and ripping it downward to reveal her large breasts trying to spill out of her white chemise.
“Too damn many clothes,” he said roughly.
She almost panicked as she was afraid he would get angry and leave her in frustration again
“I’ll get them off fast,” she promised.
Quickly slithering out from under him, she finished the job of undressing. She felt frantic to get her clothes off, to please him. She quickly got her boots and stockings off and she was soon dropping the chemise on the floor of the tent and standing before him, nude. A single lantern in the tent was lit and the shadows from the light flickered down her body. She felt suddenly embarrassed and she put her hands over her breasts.
“Drop your hands,” he commanded.
She obeyed. She had stood nude before, in front of servants, and partially nude in front of her husband, but she had never felt completely naked before. His eyes burned into her. Her skin blushed a rosy red from the heat of the lantern and embarrassment.
“Turn around,” he said.
She turned around for him, and it added to her embarrassment. She had never felt so helpless and so alive. Her body burned with passion. Between her legs she was wet. How could this savage man make her feel so hot?
He reached for her hand and pulled her back to him on the blankets. This time he held her on her back as he kissed her. His tongue thrust again but then he moved his head down. His tongue flicked at one of her stiff nipples and she groaned and arched her hips. His wet mouth opened and he sucked at her nipple. His teeth scraped it and she gasped again. He moved his head back up and kissed her mouth. This time she sucked on his tongue.
His big rough hand moved along her belly and then up to her breasts. Her husband’s hand was soft, but John’s hand was scarred with work and leathery tough. He squeezed her breast and it sent more shivers through her. She squeezed her thighs together because she felt an uncontrollable heat and wetness. She felt empty as she never had before.
And now John’s tongue was doing exotic things to her as he moved his lips down her body. He was licking and biting at her flesh, making her moan. She was aware of his changing positions, and he pushed her legs wider apart. She half-expected him to drop down on top of her and push inside but he had something else in mind. She felt his hot breath blowing against her nether lips. Then his tongue in her pubic hair.
She was shocked, astonished, and then she squealed at a sensation she had never known in her life. His tongue gently pushed between her plump nether lips and went inside her. She had never dreamed of anything like this. For a few moments, she was so surprised, that she didn’t realize how good it was making her feel. But then, as his tongue rubbed her most sensitive bud, she started jerking with desire.
“Oh, I never,” she moaned. “Oh Lord, oh my Lord.”
His hands slipped underneath her, cupping her and causing her legs to fall even farther apart. He rubbed her bud and sucked, and it was as if an explosive device went off in her tummy and pushed her juice out into his face and mouth. If left her shuddering and sucking for breath.
He moved up on top of her again and kissed her mouth even as the last few shudders went through her. She froze, momentarily, as she realized she was tasting her own juices on his mouth. It seemed nasty. But she gave in quickly and once again his tongue was thrusting into her mouth again.
Her orgasm was different than when she used her fingers. This left her more satisfied, and almost in a sort of dream state. Now she wanted to feel him inside her. It was time.
But she was with a man who wanted more than satisfaction. He was a man who knew how to be a lover. He left her side and brought a bottle of beer back. It was the nasty brown bottle she had seen a lot of safari boys drinking. He stretched out beside her and pulled a blanket over their bodies. He sipped from his bottle and then handed it to her.
She didn’t want to taste, but there was something demanding in his eyes. She was not a lady anymore, with servants and clean clothes and several different types of expensive wines. She was a woman who wanted him desperately enough to do whatever he asked.
She took a drink, coughed, and then took another.
“You’re learning,” he said.
“I want to please you,” she said honestly.
She handed the bottle back and snuggled against him. She was no longer ashamed of being naked with him.
“I’ve never felt anything like you just did,” she said.
“I want my women to have as much pleasure as I have,” he said.
‘Am I your woman?” she asked.
“Do you wish to be?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she whispered.
“And what about your husband?”
“He’s never made me feel the things you do,” she said.
“And what will you do for me, Lady Samuels?”
“Anything,” she said. “Anything.”
…..
Outside it had grown darker and suddenly rain started to pound against the tent. Somewhere outside a big animal made a noise again but nothing seemed to disturb John Gilbert. He took her hand and pressed it against the front of his safari pants.
“Undo the buttons,” he said.
The front of his pants was done with three buttons and she undid them. Her hand trembled but she wanted to do it for him. With the buttons undone, she pulled his pants apart. He wore nothing underneath. His hot, sweaty flesh pushed against her fingers. He was bigger than she had expected, but it wasn’t just the size but the feeling of stiffness as she held it in her fingers. It was very hard and very hot in her fingers. Her husband’s cock had never felt like this.
His thick was also a different color from her husband’s. Her husband’s was sort of pale looking but John Gilbert’s cock was an angry red all over except his cockhead and it was almost purplish.
“Kiss it,” John Gilbert said.
She laced her fingers tighter around his cock. Feeling her heart pounding in her chest, she bent her head down and kissed the rubbery head of his cock. She tasted his strong, masculine flavor. She looked at him and then back at his cock. She kissed the swollen tip again and swirled her tongue around it. A little of his lubricating cream wet her tongue.
“Don’t be shy, Lady Samuels,” he said. “Take it in your mouth like the French girls. Suck on it.”
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, but she only knew she wanted to please him. Lowering her head once more she took the rubbery head of his cock into her lips. She held it there for a moment, feeling it throb against her tongue and tasting a little more of his salty cum.
“That’s right, Lady Samuels,” he said. “Show me you are more talented than a French whore.”
She was scared because she had never done this before and scared that she wouldn’t be able to please him. But she was determined as she sucked his prick into her mouth half way. She hesitated again, and then used her tongue to push against his feverish flesh for a moment. Then she drew him deeper. She had almost all of his massive prick into her mouth, almost all the way to his balls.
His crude words kept shocking her. But they were also exciting her, and he knew. He reached down and fondled one of her erect, swollen nipples and it sent a quick shiver through her. She still wasn’t sure what she was doing. She only knew more of his cum was swirling around in her mouth as she started to slowly bob her head.
He groaned as he put his hand on her head. His strong fingers tangled in her short black hair and he started directing the movements of her head with gentle tugs. Her head bobbed a little faster and she used her tongue. She caught the crown of his cock with her teeth as she pulled her head back. The rain kept pounding on the tent as she bobbed her head faster.
“Yeah, you’ll be my little French whore, Lady Samuels,” he groaned. “Keep sucking.”
His French whore. If that was what he wanted.
He started pushing up his hips so that his cock stabbed deeper in her throat. She gagged a little but she didn’t pull away.
“Oh fuck,” he said. “Oh fucking nice. Swallow it, Lady Samuels. Swallow it all.”
His cock jumped in her mouth and then his wet, salty cum started spurting. She could not swallow it all, but she tried. His thick cum spilled out of her mouth and wet her chin. But she was proud of herself. She still didn’t pull away even when she was choking on his cream.
He spurted again into her mouth and she started frantically swallowing again. He finally tugged her head away and she licked her lips. He reached down and swirled some of the cum on her chin around a finger and poked it into her mouth.
“Suck it all up, baby.”
She cleaned her face with her tongue and then the remainder with some tissues from her pocket and water from his canteen. In the meantime, she watched him casually undress. She thought he reminded her of an animal when he was clothed, but when he peeled off his shirt and pants, he looked even more like a huge muscular ape, his broad chest covered with tiny golden hairs. There was nothing soft about him. His muscles took her breath away. He had a lean stomach and it made his cock look even bigger as it hung between his legs.