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Section 1
Amelia and her husband attempt to spice up their marriage by inviting Mistress Eager to join in.
"I must apologise, my dear."
"Yes, darling? Thank you. Well, I know you are happy with me."
He freed her left breast from its covering and teased her nipple with his tongue and fingers, making her gasp. He held her hips and kissed her, caressing her breasts while she touched herself. She realized he was focusing on her pleasure more than she would admit.
Their hands tangled together, gripping each other's thighs.
"Oh god, you're making me climax all over again," she cried, arching her back. She rolled her hips faster, moving to the rhythm of her moans.
"Go for it. See what you do to me," she cried, moving faster as the intensity built.
He released her breasts and brushed his lips against her skin, then turned her thigh. He took hold of her and continued his exploration, anticipating her delight.
The wood of the altar seemed to encroach upon the sitting room; Amelia had invited her to join. She thanked him for a wonderful ball. He nodded and led her to the dining table, turning her towards the head.
"We are all going to behave like we've never before."
He approached the red keys, moving towards the cocoa tills. He held her wrists together behind her back, as if she was his last stronghold, and she obliged, as if carried to a wondrous place.
Their body language was light pressure, grunts and moans and sounds answered with gasps. They brushed their fingers together, feeling the submissiveness and recognition.
The pressure was her own internal pressure and the wet sounds. He walked her to the bench of silver buttons and levers on either side of the dinner table, then to the end of the aisle, towards a female who watched her display.
"She's writhing on the floor between my legs," he said to the escort. "Go ahead, Mistress Eager," she said.
"I didn't know she climaxed on my shoulder," he said.
"Is it necessary?" she asked herself.
"No, Mistress Eager; she likes going down! No, Mistress Eager, I do. She suggests it because she knows she will die if she does take me to the top."
"Then place my hands on either of your knees. I'll be holding your legs 'til we go to the bottom."
The chair was pulled forward, and he pushed her to her feet, reaching across the desk to grab her hips until they were leaning against it.
He pushed her onto the glass rod, first pushing through his length, so that the tip began nosing open her entrance.
She groaned at the delay but was gone. His hand made its way through her hair, down her back, and further down to her sensitive skin.
He caressed her intimately, and then she was a movement away from the wood until her ear was sucked, and she began moaning, pressing her flesh against the seat, and her inner walls clamped around him until she was fully seated on his stiff length, where the engine shuddered, centered in her cavern and held close.
Together, they were wrapped in a loyal shadow of a special thing.