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He didn’t know what woke him. Maybe it was the soft sigh of a floorboard outside his door, a whispered breath, or the subtle rustle of silk. He knew only that he was awake, suddenly, his lanky frame sprawled under austere linen sheets on a narrow bed beneath a window limned with frost. The crescent moon in the darkness shed just enough light to set the ice on the window-panes glimmering. Outside the old oak stood sentinel, but within the room the darkness was unrelenting. What had woken him?

He held his breath in the blackness as his door swung silently open. The slim figure in the hallway held a candle which lit her ivory face ablaze and wrapped a host of shadows about her like a cloak. She swung the door wide and tugged her skirts across the lintel with deft steps. In the afternoon in the garden she had seemed absurdly small, burdened by layer upon layer of black silk, buoyed by the great bell of her skirts, laced into a cage of whalebone and linen. Above the square neckline of the dress her collarbone had cast a shadow. The bodice of her dress was edged in fine white lace, he remembered. In the sunlit garden he had imagined running his tongue under that line of lace, teasing the gauzy stuff with his teeth, dipping his lips to sup at the border between brocade and flesh. He had wanted to taste the shadow under her collarbone.

She closed the door with a noiseless susurration and approached the bed with light steps, the great skirts whispering about her. A night stand stood sentinel beside the bed, and she turned to place the candle on it. He lay still beyond the halo of the flame, feigning sleep. She bent above him and drew back the coarse linen sheet, the generous woolen blankets that kept the cold from him in the dark. Under the sheet his long limbs were naked. He was gloriously aroused at the sight of her, aroused by the perfect ivory oval of her face, by dark tip-tilted eyes and sweeping Bostancı Escort lashes and fine brows arched as if in surprise, aroused by long coils of hair ruthlessly pinned on the top of her head but escaping now from their bonds to snake down her slim neck, aroused by the silken shadowed skin under her collarbone and the delicate white lace that edged her neckline, aroused by the whalebone corset that trapped her lithe torso and bound her breasts, by the ridiculous bell of her skirt that billowed far beyond the slender dish of her hips, by the thought of long slim legs under the fortress of the skirts and the deep places between her legs that he longed to taste. He could imagine how her breasts ached to be freed from the constraints of the corset, ached to be touched. He dreamt that beneath the gigantic bell of skirt she was wet. His cock rose urgent in the sudden draft as she turned back the blankets, straining upwards, veins pulsing hot under the silken skin.

With a rustle of skirts she knelt beside the narrow bed and bent her dark head to take his straining cock into her mouth. As her warm mouth closed about the tip he gasped, abandoning his pretense of sleep. She laved the tip of his cock roughly with the velvet nap of her tongue, ran a mischievous tongue about the thick lip that graced the head, scraped the skin tenderly with vixenish teeth. She leaned in leisurely and slowly sucked the whole thick throbbing length of him deep into her throat. His breath labored painfully in a chest suddenly constrained. His hands clenched spasmodically at the rough sheets, then raised helplessly to her head. He speared his hands roughly into the shining masses of her hair, and as the coils tumbled down upon her neck pins fell delicate as raindrops upon the wooden floor.

Her head felt fragile under his broad hands. He flexed the pads of his fingers into the bones Bostancı Escort Bayan of her skull and pushed her down upon his cock, thrusting his hips to force his aching cock deeper into her throat until she gagged. She snatched a breath of air and closed her mouth hard about his cock, sending a questing tongue down to rub the taut skin between cock and balls. He thrust again and she tilted her head back to take his length deep into her throat, then withdrew to nip at the silken skin within the curve of his hip, to bite the muscled top of his thigh, and finally to take his balls delicately into her mouth as she clenched a slim ivory hand hard about his aching cock. He bit into the rough linen sheets to stifle a groan.

Suddenly the wet torment of her mouth on his aching balls and the firm grasp of her cool hand on his cock disappeared. She stood and raised the great bell of her skirts with both hands. Under the massive black skirts she bore on long slim legs the merest wisp of silk stockings, secured at the thigh with a scrap of lace and a morsel of ribbon. She clambered onto the narrow bed to straddle his long lean torso. She let the absurd skirts fall to cover him from knee to chest, propped small hands upon his chest, and leaned forward to find his lips with hers.

He let his eyes drift closed. Broad hands crept under the billowing skirts towards limber knees bent to ride him. He traced the lace tops of her stockings about tensed thighs, and his questing fingers crept upwards. Above the stockings she wore nothing at all.

He brushed his fingers through the curled hair between her legs, lightly caressing the soft outer lips of her cunt as she shivered and nipped at his mouth. He spread the lips of her cunt with strong fingers, probing the warm valleys within. His fingertips dipped greedily into her cunt, then returned to circle her clit with Escort Bostancı deft pressure. She trembled with building tension. He slid a long finger into her warm wet depths, and she gasped and tilted her hips in search of his straining cock.

He allowed his engorged cock to rise and nudge the place between her legs. He spread her lips gently until the enflamed head of his cock could sense the warm wet entrance of her cunt. He flexed strong fingertips into the muscle of her thighs and thrust hard as he pulled her fiercely down onto his cock, sheathing himself violently in her warmth. She cried out as he entered her, and came as he pulled her down hard. Her clitoris hit his pubic bone and her hips bucked and ground involuntarily as he pulled her onto him. She arched her back like a bow and tipped her head back until the beautiful breasts jutted forward and her hair tumbled down her back. He felt her rippling contractions all along the aching length of his cock as he fought to keep his own hips from bucking.

As the long contractions faded she slumped dazed against his chest. He grasped her hips in strong hands and began to thrust slowly, grinding his pelvis against her clit until she moaned and shivered as his cock penetrated deep into her body. She gasped, and he thrust faster, pulling her down hard onto his cock. She panted in short, desperate little breaths and he loosed his own reins, thrusting hard, dragging her down onto his cock, burying himself in her wet warmth to the hilt, holding her down as she cried out and convulsed, spending his cum in hot spurts in her cavern. His last conscious memory was of cradling her slim neck in his hand as she slumped against his chest, caressing the glossy silken strands of hair that twined about them both, the candle guttering.

When he woke in the blue light of dawn he was alone in the narrow bed, the austere linen sheets rumpled. He was no longer certain whether she was flesh or vision. The candle was gone, and the merest scent of musk hung in the icy air. He rose and dressed, baffled, but as he knelt to lace his garters he caught a pale and glossy gleam, and pried with gentle fingers from between the rough floorboards a pin with a pearl at its tip.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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