Authors: Portia Da Costa
Lessons and Lovers
an erotic romance
Portia Da Costa
Please be aware that these stories contain sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios. LESSONS AND LOVERS is an escapist erotic fantasy. If they existed in the real world, my characters would always use condoms.
The night was humid. Damp flesh slapped and smacked as belly met belly in a savage, primeval rhythm. Sweat dripped into Hettie’s eyes and pooled in her cunt and groin. It was almost a relief when the telephone trilled.
But it wasn’t really. Not when she needed to come, and come hard. She died inside as Starr paused in the middle of a thrust and looked down at her solemnly. He was the perfect servant in her bed now, his eyes cool and shuttered. The lover had gone as if he’d never existed, and a clutch of vague, unspoken hopes had shattered in Hettie’s heart. Her body still burned, but she felt like wailing out in loss.
“Are you going to answer that, Ma’am?” His voice was as calm as a lake, his composure unruffled. Even the slide of his flesh pulling out of hers couldn’t disturb his complete
So detached. Even now, thought Hettie, swallowing her disappointment.
“I suppose so,” she replied, easing herself from beneath his long, golden body.
Why, oh why, did this have to happen? Who the hell was calling at this time? Didn’t they have anything better to do than destroy the first step in her recovery? Destroy her chance to…
Chance to do what, Hettie? To understand your feelings for Starr? And his for you?
What if he doesn’t have any? Other than duty and respect and loyalty. And desire, obviously.
What if, by asking him, she screwed up what she
have with him? Which was amazing sex. On demand. Whenever she wanted it.
And tonight was the first time since Piers’ death that she had wanted it. The first time her healthy woman’s body had tingled and finally come alive again. The first time she’d wanted to feel a man’s stiffness moving inside her. The long gliding stroke of a cock to make her feel she was wholly and completely female.
It had been months, and yet somehow Starr had known that tonight she’d been ready at last. Without any word or prior indication, he’d come to her bed, then silently and gracefully, he’d slid between the sheets beside her and started touching her with his unique, almost surgical precision.
Not one word had passed his lips as he’d cupped her firm breasts and delicately kneaded them. Not one sound as he’d slid his stroking hand over her flat belly and her hips. Not a murmur had he uttered. Even as his fingers had parted the lips of her sex and played in the thick, clinging moisture they’d found there. It was only as he’d pressed open her slim thighs and entered her that he’d spoken, only as he’d possessed that he’d whispered her name. Called her “Hettie”, as he only ever had done when his cock was sheathed in her body.
Her hunger had flared, that sense of being completely alive doubling and redoubling as her cunt had quickened and gripped him. She’d cried out, riding his thrusts on the crest of a great, wet wave of erotic energy.
But it had been more than just fucking, and the feelings much deeper. Her heart had leapt as her body had responded. She’d felt something fragile and beautiful unfurling that went far beyond sex. Some tenuous and unspoken emotional conduit being formed between herself and the man making love to her.
And then the bedside telephone had shattered the spell, and her fragile hopes and dreams.
“The phone, Ma’am,” he prompted.
“All right already! I’m answering it!” she snapped, the moment lost as his semen cooled on her naked thighs, “but for God’s sake, Starr, don’t make a sound!”
“Of course, Ma’am,” Starr answered mildly.
Hettie felt small and mean. She’d snarled at him without justification, in the middle of a moment that was at least
intimate. For all his emotional impenetrability, Starr had always been gentle, caring and attentive. Both in bed and in the course of his more conventional duties. And he was glorious too! Hettie’s reborn libido stirred like a serpent in her loins as her companion levered himself up and showed her the perfect, gilded breadth of his back and the tight muscular rounds of his supremely male ass. Turning to the small bedside table, he reached for the handset and lifted it with almost supernatural quietness.
With the same almost uncanny lack of fuss, he handed it to her then slid elegantly away and sat on the edge of the bed.
Hettie scooted across the rumpled sheet and settled herself against the pillows, thankful only that her late-night caller couldn’t see her. See that she was naked and obviously fresh from sex. Her gold-blonde hair was a mess, her usually pale face and body all flushed and her eyes overbright. Her mouth was bruised from kissing and she frowned as she held the receiver close to it.
Conversation was going to be difficult. It was well-nigh impossible to think about anything but Starr and his sleek naked body. His pose was utterly relaxed, even though his cock was still glistening and stiff. His erection seemed harder than ever.
“Goddammit!” mimed Hettie, then cautiously said, “Hello?”
“Good evening,” said the smooth yet accented voice of an operator, “I have a call for Lady Henrietta Miller from
Renata di Angeli in Milan. Shall I put it through?”
Renata! Oh, what now?
With Ren it could only be a crisis. Hettie shuffled her pillows against the padded headboard and stretched out her long, shapely legs in Starr’s direction. Better get comfy because this could take some time. Her foot touched a warm well-muscled thigh and she shivered involuntarily as he looked around, his expression inquiring.
“Yes, put it through, please,” Hettie said to the distant operator, but as Starr placed his fingers on her calf and smoothed them lightly up towards her knee and the creamy under-slope of her thigh, she was suddenly less interested in Renata’s latest catalog of troubles.
“Hettie! Hettie! I’m so sorry! I know it’s late and stuff but I had to talk to you!” cried a familiar voice on the phone.
“Don’t worry. I was awake anyway.” Hettie suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say to her friend as Starr’s hand stole higher and higher in search of hotter and damper zones, “I couldn’t sleep so I was reading. But never mind me, Ren. What’s happened? Even
don’t call me in the middle of the night for nothing!”
“Oh, Hett, I’m in an awful mess! You’ve got to help me!” the distant voice wailed. “You’re the only one!”
“It’s a man, isn’t it?”
It mostly was in Renata’s case, and under normal circumstances Hettie would have listened attentively. But Starr’s long, golden hand was stroking the tender borderline between her thigh and her trembling pussy now, and each lingering pass was getting closer and closer to the place that still longed for him.
“Yes, Hett, it is! Well, two of them actually. And I’m going to lose one if I don’t get rid of the other! Well, not really, because there’s nothing between us. It’s just that Fausto won’t stay if Darryl does! Oh, Hettie, I don’t know what to do! You’re the only one who can help me!” Furious sobbing burst from the receiver as Renata succumbed to tears in the way she so often did.
Hettie let her friend cry. Not out of cruelty, but because she felt that she might break down herself any second. Lose control and moan because her lover was kneeling between her thighs now, crouched in the space he’d created by grasping her ankles and stretching them wide apart. His own thighs bracketed his swaying erection, while his vivid blue gaze was riveted on her rudely displayed crotch.
Hettie felt herself twitch and sizzle. He was caressing her as surely with his laser-beam eyes as he did with his nimble fingers. As surely as he’d done earlier when he’d first explored the sleeping vale of her sex. After her extended celibacy since Piers’ death, she’d sensed that Starr felt he had to prepare her properly. Ready her with skill and exquisite tenderness, with a slow rhythmic rubbing across the tender membranes and the straining, swelling bud…
“Hettie! You’re not listening!” Renata cried woefully.
“Yes I am!” gasped Hettie, as Starr leaned forward and laid his long, slender-fingered hand lightly on her palpitating belly. His touch was so controlled it was barely there, yet it transferred itself directly to her open, yearning sex. Without conscious volition, her hips rose to invite him. A cry of need bubbled in her throat and she stopped it by biting her knuckle.
“Hettie!” Renata protested.
“Yes, but look, Ren, I don’t know what you’re talking about! Who are all these men?” Voice control was difficult now. Starr had a finger in the sticky, darkened mat of her pubic hair and was twirling and gently tugging, “Tell me what’s happened. Tell me it all, then maybe I can help.” She closed her eyes. Maybe she could manage to listen if she couldn’t see? See what was happening to her. See Starr’s marvelous body. His heavy but beautiful cock… His bright blue eyes boring into her as his hands made her writhe with pleasure.
“All right.” There was a sound of rustling and snuffling. Renata wrestling with tears. “I’ve been seeing this man. He’s moved into the palazzo. His name’s Fausto and it’s so good between us…
good! I have orgasms with him, Hett, and you know how hard it is for me.”
Oh my God!
Hettie’s teeth closed harder on her knuckles as Starr pushed two fingers slowly into her.
Ren can’t come and I can hardly stop myself!
She remembered their no-holds-barred girlie chats, and how she’d always had to play down the fact that she could climax so easily. Especially with the man in her bed right now.
I bet Starr could bring you off, Ren!
Helplessly, she jerked beneath his expert caress.
could get to any woman. Two fingers moved wetly between her labia. Splitting around her clitoris, they teased her trembling pussy without ever touching the most crucial point of all. That he
touch it was almost unbearable. It took a superhuman effort to carry on listening.
“We were getting on like a dream. I even thought… I even thought he might propose or something. And then Darryl arrived!”
“Darryl?” inquired Hettie faintly. Inside she was screaming and begging. Begging harder than Ren had ever done for anything. Ready to plead with Starr that he touch his tapered fingertip to her clitoris.
“He’s a sort of cousin of mine. Step-cousin really. I’m not sure. He’s only half Italian. He was adopted by my Uncle Alfredo, but I never knew he existed until now. They were out excavating at some archaeological dig or other and there was an accident. A slide or rockfall or something… Uncle Alfredo was killed but Darryl escaped with minor injuries. Apart from losing his memory from a knock on the head, that is. Partially… He knows who he is, but not much else. And the hospital sent him to me! I’m his only relative, they say, because Aunt Maria died years ago, and there is nobody else. He’s spent all his life in this monklike existence miles from civilization, just digging for relics and stuff with Uncle Alfredo and but now he’s got to learn to live with other people.”
Renata started sobbing again. Hettie wanted to ask what was wrong now, but at that second Starr gave in to her. He settled one finger on her clitoris, rubbed gently but firmly, and Hettie started sobbing too. Only her abused fist masked the sound. When his finger swirled, then pressed again, it was too much. Her loins churned and her sex pulsed like a heartbeat. Pleasure flared hot and sweet in her besieged clitoris, and she heard Renata wail incoherently, as if by proxy, her voice unknowingly proclaiming her friend’s orgasm.
It was a few moments before either of them could speak—for their so vastly different reasons—but as she relaxed, still panting slightly, it was Hettie who managed first. As Starr slid up to her side and took her into his arms.
“Are you all right, Ren? What’s wrong? What’s so awful about your cousin?”
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Renata gulped, “He’s nice, really. But he’s hanging around…
at me all the time. As if he’s waiting for something. Waiting for me to tell him things. I don’t know. It’s as if he wants me to
him somehow… Help him remember everything. And… I mean…”
“Mean what, Ren, what?” urged Hettie. Her own immediate turmoil over, she felt worried about her confused friend. Poor Ren had no Starr to manage her problems for her. No elegant, athletic blond servant to lie beside her, hold her glowing post-orgasmic body and smooth his sex-scented hand gently over her sweaty, tousled hair.