THE ROMANCE OF LUST. Anonymous
each followed by a firmer pressure of her charming fingers, caused me such an excess of excitement that I actually swooned away with the most delicious sensation I had ever experienced in my life. I was some time before I knew where I was, or what I was about, and was only made conscious of our arrival at home by Miss Evelyn shaking me to rouse me up. I stumbled up, but though partially stupefied, I fancied Miss Evelyn’s eyes shone with a brilliancy I had never before observed, and that there was a bright hectic flush on her cheek. She refused to go into the parlour, but hurried to bed on pretence of a headache.
When I retired to bed, and took off my shirt, I found it all sticky and wet in front.
It was thus I paid down my first tribute to Venus. I thought long over this evident approach to familiarity on the part of Miss Evelyn, and went to sleep with a lively hope of a more private interview with her, when I trusted that her evident passion would initiate me in the pleasures to be derived from her beauteous body.
But again fate intervened, and another, not less beautiful, more experienced, and more inclined for the sport, was to be my charming mistress in love’s revels.
Two days after this, Mr. Benson was unexpectedly called away on pressing affairs, which he feared might detain him three weeks. He left Mrs. B. with us. As he had to be driven about nine miles to the town where the coach passed, mamma took the opportunity of going to the town with him. Mrs. B. complained of not being equal to the fatigue, and mamma told Miss Evelyn she would like her company, and as the two girls wanted new shoes, they could go also; I was to remain at home, and mamma desired me to be quiet and attentive to Mrs. Benson, who, observing no one, said to me, with a peculiar look:
“I shall want you to hold my skeins, Charlie, so don’t go out of the way, but be ready for me as soon as they are gone.”
She then went up to her bedroom, where Mr. B. immediately joined her, no doubt to re-enact the scene I had already witnessed from the closet on a previous day. They were fully half an hour occupied together. At length, all was ready, and off they went, leaving me to a fate I had little dreamt of.
Mrs. B. proposed we should go up to the drawing-room, which looked out to the garden, and was nowhere overlooked. I followed her, and could not help admiring her fine figure as she preceded me in going upstairs. Although pale in complexion, she was well made, and very elegant in her carriage, and sat down on a low easy chair, throwing herself completely back, and crossing one leg over the other, apparently without being aware that she carried her petticoats up with the action, and exhibited the beautiful underleg up to the garter.
I had never forgotten the day, when secreted in the closet, I had seen them completely exposed, and how charming they were. Her present negligent attitude, although far from the same exposure I speak of, was still, with the former recollection running in my head, enough to set my whole blood on fire. I have before remarked what a power beautiful and well-stockinged legs, and ankles and small feet, had upon my nervous system, and so it was now. As I gazed upon her handsome legs, ankles, and feet, I felt my prick swell and throb in a manner that could not fail to be perceptible to Mrs. B, especially as her head lay on a level with that part of my person as I stood before her.
Although she continued knitting, I could see that her eyes were directed to that part of my person, and fixed upon the increasing distention of my trousers. In a few minutes she gave me a skein of worsted to hold, and desired me to kneel in front of her, so as to bring my hands down to the level of the low chair on which she was seated.
I knelt close to the footstool on which her foot rested; it was raised up, and a very slight movement brought it against my person, at first rather below where my throbbing prick was distending my trousers. As she commenced to wind her ball, she gradually pushed her foot further forward, until the toe actually touched the knob of my cock, and occasionally moved it right and left, exciting me beyond measure.
I flushed up to the very ears, and trembled so violently that I thought
I should have dropped the skein.
“My dear boy, what is the matter with you, that you blush and tremble so, are you unwell?”
I could not answer, blushed more than ever. The skein at length was finished.
“Charles,” she said, “get up, and come here.”
I rose and stood by her side.
“What have you got in your trousers that is moving?”
And here her busy fingers commenced unbuttoning them. Released from confinement, out started my prick—stiff as iron, and as large as that of a youth of eighteen. Indeed, I was better hung than one boy selected out of five hundred of that age. Mrs. B., who had pretended to be perfectly astonished, exclaimed—
“Good gracious, what a pego! Why Charles, my darling, you are a man not a boy. What a size to be sure!” and she gently handled it. “Is it often in this state?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“For how long?”
“Ever since Miss Evelyn came.”
“And pray, sir, what has Miss Evelyn’s coming had to do with it?”
“I—I—I—I—”
“Come now, Charles, be candid with me; what is it you mean where you say Miss Evelyn has caused you to be in such a state, have you shown her this, and has she handled it?”
“Oh! dear no; never, never!”
“Is it her face, her bosom, or her legs that have captivated you?”
“It was her feet and ankles, ma’am, with her beautiful legs, which she sometimes exhibited without knowing.”
“And do all ladies’ legs and ankles produce this effect upon you?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, if they are neat and pretty!”
“And what make you so excited now?”
“It was the sight of your beautiful legs just now, and the recollection of what I saw the other day, ma’am,” I stammered out, blushing more than ever.
While this conversation was going on, her soft hand grasped my distended prick, and had commenced slowly slipping the loose skin over the swollen head, and allowing it to slip back again.
“I suppose, Charles, after what you saw in the closet, you know what this is meant to do.”
I muttered out an indistinct reply that I did, and I hung down my blushing face.
“You have never put it into a lady, have you?”
“Oh! dear no, ma’am.”
“Would you like to do so?”
I did not answer, but sheepishly held down my head.
“Did you see what I had in the same place, when you were in the closet?”
I muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Would it afford you any pleasure to see it again?”
“Oh, yes; so much!”
Mrs. B. rose, went to the window, drew down the blind, then gently turned the key in the door. Returning to the chair, and drawing well up her dress, petticoats and chemise, she exposed all her person up to the middle of her belly; and sat down stretching herself backwards, and opening her thighs well.
“Well, my dear boy, look at it if you wish.”
I was no longer shy. Nature prompted me to an act of gallantry that gratified the lady immensely. Falling on my knees, I glued my lips to the delicious spot, pushing my tongue in as far as I could, and sucked it. It was quite spunky; I had no doubt but that Mr. B. had fucked her two or three times just before leaving. This, however, made no difference to me. The attack was as unexpected as it was delightful to the lady. She placed both hands on my head and pressed my face against her throbbing