failing to rise for any dubious occasion and, in anticipation, his phallus swelled further. Ultimately, he was free and in her hand. She stroked him and licked him, until his hips responded of their own accord, then she leaned down and slipped her lips over the crown.
He was a big man, bigger than any of them ever supposed, and he didn’t let his impressive proportions interfere with his gratification.
“Take more of me,” he decreed. Reaching for the back of her neck, he eased her down, and she went without complaint, while he stared at the ceiling, focused on a crack that ran from one edge to the other.
The woman adeptly proceeded with her task, but true desire proved elusive until, without warning, Sarah once again rudely intruded into the center of the sensual exercise. He visualized her stepping out of her bath, wet and slippery and smelling like roses. He recalled the firm, taut nipples he’d suckled, the slick, tight pussy he’d fingered.
For some reason, she excessively excited him, so he closed his eyes and pretended that
she
was the womanstooped over him, that she was enticing him with her wicked mouth and tongue. Vividly, he imagined teaching her to suck at him, making her practice, encouraging her to master his favorite techniques. Adamant yet gentle, he’d be a relentless instructor, and she’d be an apt, enthusiastic pupil, set to learn what he deigned to impart.
Steadying his paramour, he held her in place, granting her as much as she could manage, urging her to take a bit more.
“
Sarah
. . .”
In his mind, he pictured her in all her nude, glorious splendor, and his level of desire soared to a previously unascertained height. He shuddered and let himself go.
Chapter Four
Sarah sat on the verandah, her face shielded by a bonnet, observing the other guests and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. The fabulous summer day was quickly approaching evening, temperatures were balmy, the sky bright blue and filled with fluffy white clouds. Soon, everyone scattered about at the various tables and settees would venture inside to dress for supper, and she should have been content to relax, but disturbing ruminations kept creeping in, rendering it impossible to cherish the moment.
After her encounter with Mr. Stevens, then her subsequently stumbling upon him during his odd tryst, she was definitely in a state. He had cluttered her senses in indescribable ways, and though she screamed at her overly zealous mind to give it a rest, her active imagination wouldn’t calm down. The only matter she could contemplate was him and what he’d been doing.
Surreptitiously, she scanned the long porch that wrapped around the mansion, wondering who his lover had been. She scrutinized the mannerisms of the women, evaluating how they moved, tipped their heads, and gestured, but to no avail. She couldn’t tell.
During the night, she’d removed herself from the dressing room and the temptation it provided, but she’d spent interminable dark hours regretting her decision. To her ultimate dismay, she wished she’d continued on! She was frantic to learn how the rendezvous had developed and how it had ended.
Shocking as it seemed, she hoped she’d have the fortuity to watch him again before too much time had passed. There was something abominably erotic and alluring about spying.If she shut her eyes, she could pretend that
she
was the woman in the room with him, and that he was perpetrating those treacherous exploits against her own person.
What was the matter with her? Why did she find his comportment so titillating? Even as she recognized the impropriety of her conduct, and even as she exhaustively chastised herself for her wantonness, she was craving a repeat performance.
Her nocturnal reveries about him and his antics had grown cumbersome as he now commanded her entire daylight attention, as well. She couldn’t stop conjecturing as to where he was and how he was spending his afternoon. Disgustingly, she was
He was a big man, bigger than any of them ever supposed, and he didn’t let his impressive proportions interfere with his gratification.
“Take more of me,” he decreed. Reaching for the back of her neck, he eased her down, and she went without complaint, while he stared at the ceiling, focused on a crack that ran from one edge to the other.
The woman adeptly proceeded with her task, but true desire proved elusive until, without warning, Sarah once again rudely intruded into the center of the sensual exercise. He visualized her stepping out of her bath, wet and slippery and smelling like roses. He recalled the firm, taut nipples he’d suckled, the slick, tight pussy he’d fingered.
For some reason, she excessively excited him, so he closed his eyes and pretended that
she
was the womanstooped over him, that she was enticing him with her wicked mouth and tongue. Vividly, he imagined teaching her to suck at him, making her practice, encouraging her to master his favorite techniques. Adamant yet gentle, he’d be a relentless instructor, and she’d be an apt, enthusiastic pupil, set to learn what he deigned to impart.
Steadying his paramour, he held her in place, granting her as much as she could manage, urging her to take a bit more.
“
Sarah
. . .”
In his mind, he pictured her in all her nude, glorious splendor, and his level of desire soared to a previously unascertained height. He shuddered and let himself go.
Chapter Four
Sarah sat on the verandah, her face shielded by a bonnet, observing the other guests and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. The fabulous summer day was quickly approaching evening, temperatures were balmy, the sky bright blue and filled with fluffy white clouds. Soon, everyone scattered about at the various tables and settees would venture inside to dress for supper, and she should have been content to relax, but disturbing ruminations kept creeping in, rendering it impossible to cherish the moment.
After her encounter with Mr. Stevens, then her subsequently stumbling upon him during his odd tryst, she was definitely in a state. He had cluttered her senses in indescribable ways, and though she screamed at her overly zealous mind to give it a rest, her active imagination wouldn’t calm down. The only matter she could contemplate was him and what he’d been doing.
Surreptitiously, she scanned the long porch that wrapped around the mansion, wondering who his lover had been. She scrutinized the mannerisms of the women, evaluating how they moved, tipped their heads, and gestured, but to no avail. She couldn’t tell.
During the night, she’d removed herself from the dressing room and the temptation it provided, but she’d spent interminable dark hours regretting her decision. To her ultimate dismay, she wished she’d continued on! She was frantic to learn how the rendezvous had developed and how it had ended.
Shocking as it seemed, she hoped she’d have the fortuity to watch him again before too much time had passed. There was something abominably erotic and alluring about spying.If she shut her eyes, she could pretend that
she
was the woman in the room with him, and that he was perpetrating those treacherous exploits against her own person.
What was the matter with her? Why did she find his comportment so titillating? Even as she recognized the impropriety of her conduct, and even as she exhaustively chastised herself for her wantonness, she was craving a repeat performance.
Her nocturnal reveries about him and his antics had grown cumbersome as he now commanded her entire daylight attention, as well. She couldn’t stop conjecturing as to where he was and how he was spending his afternoon. Disgustingly, she was
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