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Authors: Scarlett Rush

One Final Night (6 page)

BOOK: One Final Night
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He is on his way up. His tongue has done its work and now I’m to find out if it is master or servant. I’m almost crying with need. I can hear the buttons of the fly coming undone. It will be out. It will be in his hand, ready to plunge into me, either huge and possibly unmanageable, or the lovely one I’ve come to know so well. I open as wide as I can, just in case. This means my toes lose their attention but then I’m not sure I could take the bliss of him inside me without kicking out. He is taking ages. His weight isn’t even down upon my chest. I’m going to scream. Give me that big, fat
cock
! I can’t believe I’m thinking such dirty thoughts, but I simply cannot help it.

I feel her coming up the bed too, her slighter weight depressing the mattress alongside me. Then his tip is at my entrance, being guided there, slipping up and down the slit to spread the wetness. He pushes it in just a little, just to open me up. I don’t think it can be Patrick, after all. The stretch doesn’t seem enough. He is steadying himself, and I know it will come in one long plunge. I have never wanted anything so badly in my whole life. He waits and waits, hears my sobs of desperation escape. Then, suddenly, he drives it all the way inside me and my head feels like it might burst. I would scream, but as he drove in, her soft mouth came down onto mine and she kissed me, her tongue feeling as beautifully penetrative as his sword.

He holds it deep inside me. I can feel the rough of his breeches against my smooth, bare lips. He hasn’t pulled them down. He must have hauled it out through the fly. Normally I would want the feel of him naked against me, but here the thrill is greater. He is reminding me of his uniform. He is giving me the fantasy of being ravished by a handsome officer of
La Grande Armée
. I am nothing more than a Russian peasant girl caught in their swift advance, used for fun by him and his pretty mistress, given my first ever climax by his deep, penetrating thrust. He will pummel and abuse me, paying no heed to my cries, and when he is finished his men will take their turn.

He settles into a rhythm, driving the pleasure to my centre with each stroke. His pace is confusing – neither the slow build of our apartment sex nor the frantic slaps of our public displays. It is somewhere in between and again I’m wondering if it is him or not. I thought I would know instantly but the darkness has stripped away any assurance. She is all I can smell, the same sweet fragrance I first detected. It was her who cut my gown. She is soft and loving with her kisses, occasionally showing the same passion with her tongue as he does with his thrusts. Again, the differing attention is supreme.

His pace does not let up and, sure enough, I realise that he is soon to reach his finish. I feel like I am glowing, like the electricity is all through me. I can’t wait to have his spray inside, and as he lets out a gasp I know it is soon to follow. But then I am empty. She is off me, perhaps pulled away by him. I already have the image in my head: the clasped prick being held like a hose, going away from me toward another. His sighs come again, a series of stifled gasps. She moans in response; I can tell her mouth is full of him. I should be jealous, but the sounds are just too evocative not to have my heart pounding again. I even want to kiss her once more to share their rudeness.

The chance does not come. Their weight slips from the bed; I hear the swish of clothes as they make themselves decent and move away. Before I can call out for them to stay, I hear the click of the door. I assume one or both of them have left. If he is still there he gives no clue. I lie still, not knowing how to feel – ecstatic, mainly, like a whirlwind has caught me up and only just placed me back down. I feel complete yet expectant. If this was all it is to be then he has indeed given me a night to remember, but imagine the memories if it isn’t quite over.

I wait, but this time I’m relaxed; the glow within won’t let me be otherwise. I don’t count the seconds, I let them wash over me, giving me time to recoup.

My nerves jolt as I hear the squeeze of the door handle depressing. I feel the fizz in my blood. I close my eyes and smile. It is the soldiers coming to find me. It is the soldiers coming to fuck me. The drapes are pulled apart roughly and the first is upon me before I can even begin to tell how many there may be in the room. He is on the bed and between my legs. There is no mistaking the gender in this case. I hear the fly coming unbuttoned and this time the breeches are pulled down. He uses his fingers on me, not to see if I’m ready, more to help his aim. Then his weight is down upon me and he is shoving himself home. The plunge goes unhindered, a glide within that takes my breath away. It is fatter than the last and feels gnarly, venous. My insides are so sensitive I can pick out these differences. He has me behind the legs to raise my hips and he starts to pump, an urgent pace as if he might lose me if not quick about it.

I know his face is just above mine. To kiss now would be to take away some of the impersonality and I’m rather glad he doesn’t try – maybe later, with other visitors, but not now. Now I want to see him in my mind’s eye: the unshaven brute straight from the front line with the powder marks, filth, and blood still upon his shirt. I want to be his victory prize. He grunts as he thrusts but it can’t hide the lewd slap of his crotch against mine. It seems extra noisy within the confines of this bed. I am able to sigh out loud too, suddenly less reserved now that I’m caught up in the wantonness of it.

He doesn’t miss a stroke. On and on he goes, pumping harder to take himself to the swiftest climax. I still want it in me but again I am thwarted at the last. Out he comes and I hear his sucked-in breath as he rushes to finish himself. Then the spatters come, warm across my belly. It makes my muscles jump. It would be so rude to see but in the darkness it seems strangely benign, such a light impact after all that thrusting passion.

He goes, but I am barely able to readjust before I am joined again. This one also hooks his arms behind my knees – it must be this regiment’s calling card.

His entry is much more measured. It is the slower slide of a thinner but longer weapon. It pierces me completely, too long to fit all the way inside. I am thankful for his gentle entry, since anything rougher might have sent me into panic. He holds me open as he finds his rhythm. He withdraws nearly completely before sliding all the way back in, delighting in showing me just how long he is. When he is in as far as he can go, he grinds his groin to mine to crush against my sweet spot. He is so much less hurried than the last, so much more disciplined. This must be an officer, lean and tall, just like David. I knew he would be wonderful. The gentler pace allows my frantic heart to slow just a little, but the crush of his groin draws the joy from my throbbing bud and gives me the second climax of the night.

His finish is the same as the last. Suddenly his pace increases, then he is out and the splashes are landing on my chest, thin and warm. It feels so dirty to be lying here with the trickles going down the sides of my body, but no one can see how filthy I look so I make no effort to free my hands and wipe myself clean. Anyway, number three wants his turn. I remain incredibly sensitive inside. My bliss keeps me so well lubricated, and the joy of each new penetration keeps the threat of climax ever close to the surface.

I take five of them before there is a break, and each one conjures a different image in my head. Number four has me on my side, then forces me onto my front, twisting the straps that hold my hands. He finishes on my back, and that feels very rude indeed. I right myself for number five and he gorges on me first, slurping loudly and lasciviously, even spitting inside me. He drives in and proves to be the smallest, but he pounds me at incredible speed and even puts a finger up into my other hole. I have been leaching so much that I am slippery everywhere and his digit glides in with embarrassing ease. His manic pace cannot last and he explodes, scurrying up the bed to shoot as close to my chest as he can. His first shot splats against one aching teat, then six or seven more blasts follow before he is done. He leaves me shaking.

Chapter Six

I am given time to recover but my head is swimming. My body has hit a plane of pleasure and refuses to come down. I guess this is what rapture is like. I should be finished but I still want more. I feel greedy and depraved, having entertained almost as many men in barely an hour as I had previously done in my whole life. I should shrink from this, but instead I feel liberated and empowered. I know they have all loved using me and their enthusiasm keeps me needing more. I am not tired yet, and my body wants to go on until it is wracked by pleasure, which is just as well, because the door handle is being squeezed down once more.

I have by now stopped trying to pick out individual noises, although my instincts tell me that at least two are in the room. There is a creak from the right corner and this sets alarm bells ringing, because that’s where the door the females will use is sited. I think I make out whispers but I cannot be sure. The drapes are already pulled open so I get no warning of my next visitor. The mattress depresses, I feel some bare contact between my open legs, and then a body sinks fully down. It isn’t heavy. I have a smooth crotch against my own, a warm belly upon mine, a pair of gloriously soft breasts squashing against me. Before this I had shirts come between my skin and theirs, allowing me the fantasy of being impersonally used. This is the first naked torso I have had actually touching mine this evening. It is the first naked female I have
ever
had pressed against me.

She kisses me. It is soft and sweet and unhurried. In my mind, it is already the Comtesse. Her lips feel perfect. Her fragrance makes me swoon. The crush of her bosom is divine. I love the feel of her hard peaks brushing and pressing my own; it feels so
lustful
. The breasts are so soft and heavenly – the epitome of the comforting warmth and tenderness that is femininity – yet they are tipped with those naughty little aching points that stretch out and press so wantonly, urging you to attend to them. I love the thought that she has stripped herself bare for me – this beautiful woman of such high esteem; that she has used the darkness to slip naked through the ranks of these oblivious men to find me. The warmth of her body, her soft kiss, the friction of her little bud against mine as she gently moves her hips from side to side; all this is one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever known.

She uses the backs of her hands on my sides, the fingernails running from my armpits down to my thighs. She kisses my closed eyelids and my forehead. She sucks ever so gently on the tip of my nose and then the tip of my tongue. I barely register the movement at the foot of the bed as weight comes upon it. She kisses the flat of my tongue. I feel so lewd lying there with it stuck out, but she makes it simply erotic. She even uses the tip of her own tongue to tickle my mouth’s wet flesh. Here in the dark it seems like one of the most intimate things I have known. She uses her little nose to push my head to one side. She kisses my neck, right up behind my ear, then the ear itself, then the lobe, which she catches between her teeth. I sigh and squirm, and the friction at our crotches sends another electric tingle flowing right through me. I desperately want to hold her.

She slides her hands down under my thighs and lifts them – she has obviously taken tips from the boys of the regiment! Her arms hook behind my knees to hold my crotch up tighter to hers. Obviously the light friction is proving too much for her. She begins to rock, quickly shifting her weight from side to side so that our smooth mounds rub together. Still she keeps up her kisses and little bites to my neck. Suddenly, she gasps in my ear. I feel her shiver.

‘Oh!’ she breathes. ‘His tongue is right there! He has just licked me from bottom to top!’

Her voice is barely a whisper, just for my benefit. Even in the quiet of the room it would be inaudible to others. It has the goosebumps spreading across me all over again. I hadn’t been concentrating on the other movements but I remember feeling them, and the image of the soldier scrunched up at the foot of the bed is instant. I don’t see him as an officer, more another filthy private who has no business taking these liberties with a woman of such beauty and grace as the Comtesse.

‘He feeds on me! Sucking and drinking and slurping!’

She sounds far too well-to-do to be talking of such indecent things. Her voice comes just to my ear once more, but I can indeed hear other, lewder noises coming from below. The image changes to the filthy private’s face pushed into the Comtesse from the rear, the tongue greedily pushed right into her to lap up her flow. It strikes me that he must be mere inches from my own entrance by now, and I wonder if the warmth I feel there is from her or from his breath. If she is affronted by his boldness, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she rubs her crotch harder and faster to mine, more like a dirty minx than an aristocrat.

‘His hands are on me, squeezing and opening me up,’ she whispers, still just for my benefit. ‘He has pushed his face right in.’

When she is not speaking she is immediately back to kissing my neck, putting her tongue-tip in my ear, nibbling and sucking the lobe; all to keep me shivering. The sounds of her faltering sighs are so enticing. Any fatigue has been chased away. I feel utterly alive, buzzing with the realisation of my naughtiest dreams, basking in the spellbinding combination of her soft femininity and downright licentiousness. I
need
to hold her.

‘I think he has spat upon me – I can feel the trickle going all the way down. Oh! Now his fingers are sliding into me – two, I think. They are so thick it is hard to tell. They are swirling around inside me. His tongue – it is back. His fingers are still in me but he is using his tongue too. Ah,
mon dieu
! He is licking me
there
!’

I start to shake again. It’s not just the rub of our crotches, but also the dirty images one as apparently respectable and
proper
as her is able to conjure. This climax is different from the others. It’s less jarringly intense and perhaps all the more wonderful for it. It’s a long, slow fizzle that refuses to die out. I bask in it and let her words carry me on.

‘I can feel his hard, fat prick now. He is sliding it up and down me, where his fingers have just been. He is getting it wet and ready. Now he’s moving it up, up where he has just been licking! Oh God, I think he plans to use me there! He feels so big too – I’m not sure I can take it! Will you hold me open for him?’

Such an act seems too rude to visit upon one such as her, yet all the while this sophisticate, this paragon of etiquette and decency, this
Comtesse
, is grinding her bare crotch against mine in her unbridled excitement. She clearly wants it. I am worried he might hurt her. I pull my hands free from their loops; with this action goes the last pretence that I am here under sufferance. I reach down and grip her rear. It is full and very soft. I try to recall any prior clues to its size, but then her dress had a built-in frame to accentuate this feature. I ease her apart and almost immediately she tenses and grips my flesh, her nails digging in. She bites down on my earlobe but checks her force, so it’s no more than a sharp nip.

She remains tense for over a minute, holding her breath. Her grip hurts, but I don’t mind. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, so I assume he has forced his way inside her. ‘He is
so
big,’ is all she can say.

She shudders and whimpers in my ear. Perhaps it is Patrick behind her, going against all class principles to fill her. I want to find out. I move my hand across her behind, still ensuring I keep her open. I burrow down to find the base of him. I feel the heat and the hardness of what he is yet to bury inside her. It is big but it is not Patrick, that is for certain. I’m sure it feels massive within that narrower passage, but I cannot speak from experience. My fingers come off him, and I squeeze her tighter and hold her closer to me, to help her relax. I feel him push against her and she squeals and tenses again. When she is able to breathe once more she whispers into my ear, soft enough to ensure no one else will catch it. She says, ‘He is so deep inside me I can feel his balls at my wet cunt.’

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard any female say such rude words, let alone one of her rank and standing. It is designed to make me shiver, and it does. I hold her tight to me and let the next waves of pleasure rock my body. He goes about his business and she grips me and grinds me and keeps the bliss ever there. She is so close it is almost like having him inside me. It is one of the most personal, intimate experiences I will ever have with any other human, and yet I cannot even see her face. I have never spoken to her. I don’t even know who she is, except in my head.

Weight comes at the side of me; I am unceremoniously prodded in the cheek. I know instantly what is at my face. A gentleman has been waiting his turn and has now lost patience. I am in no mind to disappoint him. She moans above me. I reach up with my lips and connect with the rigid shaft. I work my way along, but find that she has already beaten me to the prize! I can do no more than run my tongue along his length and lick at the lips engulfing his end. The pace and power behind her suddenly increases. I feel the press of him on the backs of my hands as I keep her open against his deep, slapping thrusts. She is forced to let out a loud, open-mouthed moan. I seize the moment and grab the other prize, quickly closing my mouth over its end. She has already drawn a salty tang from his tip.

There are grunts from the end of the bed and squeals from her, so I know he is unloading into that beautiful behind. She slumps against me and I hold her loosely because my concentration is now on other things. I don’t know if she climbs off willingly or is manhandled out of the way. I had wanted her against me for ever, but right now I can only think of drawing the sighs from the man in my mouth. She slides away into the darkness and out of my life. I have never spoken to her. She wouldn’t know me if she saw me and yet I have had held her bottom open to be ploughed so rudely and I’ve felt the rush of her bliss mixing with my own. She came to me so simply and now she is gone again. I know I will yearn for her on nights when I’m alone. This fractional meeting will have me dreaming of other chances to lie naked with the Comtesse, yet in truth I don’t even know that it was her. I’m beginning to see the folly of infatuation.

Fortunately I don’t have to dwell on that now. Seconds ago she was all I wanted, but now I am hungry again. The prize has been eased from my mouth and its owner is pulling me up onto my knees. I embrace him and realise he is totally naked. He removes the tatters of my gown. We kiss and his hands go to my rump to hold me to him as we kiss. I adore the tender closeness his nakedness and my new freedom of movement brings. It doesn’t matter that I have never seen this man before in my life. I cling to him and kiss like he was my long-lost lover. He smells more natural than the others, with no fragrance to hide his scent. He is muscular though not too big, with smooth, tight skin. He is younger than some or all of those who have visited me.

Instincts demand that I must form an image. I run my hands over him to ascertain clues. His hair is longer and fuller than those I remember from the crowd. The fact that he is naked means he is less worried about a quick return to them. He seems fit and athletic, yet he has bowed to seniority and waited his turn. Maybe he is some kind of d’Artagnan figure on the fringes of the regiment, waiting for his star to shine. More likely he is a servant. It doesn’t matter. I have the picture of him in my head now and he is gorgeous.

He lifts me onto his lap so I sit facing him, slowly sliding down upon his length until it fills me and my bottom sinks against his thighs. He has his hands beneath me to manoeuvre me slowly up and down. I am soaking him but I feel no embarrassment. Everything seems so intimate and compassionate. I gaze into his blue eyes even though I can’t see an inch in front of my face. He lifts me off and lays me flat down across the bed, my chin nearly over the edge before I place my hands under to support it. He lies upon me and slips into me once more. Even now it still feels like the first time that night.

I smell it before anything else – just a faint salty tang under my nose. I hadn’t known anyone else was there. A large hand goes to my head and then a finger runs down my cheek, almost to check it is me, since my other lover’s face is so close to mine. Then it is pressed at my lips and I open up for it. Immediately I realise the size. My jaw will only just stretch to take him in. Before my fingers reach out to grip him I already know it must be Patrick. My mouth and tongue greet him like an old friend. Before, there had been trepidation about him coming but not now. My fingers stroke up to his belly and beyond to find that he too is naked. Again this nudity is a comfort that has me glowing. It means he has come to make love to me, not to ravish me. Now I have two servants to serve me. I am her ladyship in the hothouse.

The first of the two goes slow and deep, pressing and grinding to my bottom to move inside me. I do my best to measure my attentions on Patrick, trying not to gobble and slurp, although the temptation is there. At one point I have to rest and my naughty lover grabs an opportunity in the dark and closes his mouth over his comrade. I can feel the bulge of his cheek against my own. I wonder if Patrick even realises who is giving him this treat!

I am put on my hands and knees. I keep Patrick in my mouth while the other keeps up his deep, gentle rhythm, savouring me. Our movements are fluid, synchronised. The sound of our wet rudeness fills our confines. I feel free, uninhibited, ecstatic. My lover lifts me upright, my back to his chest. He holds my breasts and somehow Patrick knows to bend and suck them for me. Then my lover slips from me and I am manoeuvred onto Patrick as he lies flat, straddling him and sinking down, my excitement still flowing and allowing this huge invasion.

I shriek in gleeful victory as I stretch open to take him all. I ride him and don’t care that my gasps are coming so audibly now. The climax seems ongoing, but I am just about able to retain the momentum of my movements. I have one hand on his chest and one gripping my other lover’s hardness, using them both to give me purchase. Then something magical happens. I realise I want the other inside me, but not this time in my mouth. I want to have them both the way her ladyship would. Maybe the thought is transferred telepathically, or maybe he gets it from the way I pull gently on him, urging him down. Maybe he just knows this is what I would want.

BOOK: One Final Night
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