The House of Borgia, book 2

CHAPTER 14

When Cesare turned, having stripped off his clothes, Dorotea was naked. She came toward him with her eyes smoldering and her lips apart. He had time only to glimpse the firm, high breasts, the waist and hips devoid of an ounce of superfluous flesh, the way the thighs tensed as she walked bare-foot across the few feet of boudoir between them, and then she was in his arms, her naked flesh grazing warmly against his, clinging to his like rubber.

His prick rode up between their warm bodies and he felt her hips moving against it, surrounding it hotly with the flesh of her hips and loins.

But Cesare was kissing her neck, sucking up the flesh and his hands were roving down her spine, stroking her buttocks, caressing her shoulders, reaching under the buttocks, cupping them and pulling them up and in toward him. This was the man she'd dreamed about and now it was true. She tensed her thighs, sighed a deep sigh of passion and gave herself to their union.

Cesare's fingers seemed to burn as they coursed gently over her flesh, tasting its firmness, its often softness, its roundness, its glossy texture, its warmth and responsive trembling. Her body rubbed and squirmed against his and he dug his fingers deep into her, seizing the flesh in a handful until she squealed and bit his neck.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed. Light of a watery autumn sun streamed in through a large window which overlooked the rooftops of Forli. They were above and far from all eyes in the citadel where the Countess Sforza-Riario had submitted to him less willingly at first.

Cesare lay her down on the bed and stood over her. He reached down and caught her breasts, easing them up toward him, elongating them with his hands. He knelt beside her and, bending, kissed her fiercely, invaded her sweet mouth with his tongue and bit that sexy lower lip, which in answer enveloped his mouth.

He pulled his mouth suckingly from hers and caught her small, pink nipple between his teeth. He sucked at her breast, drawing as much of the solid, malleable flesh into his mouth as he could. Her nipples hardened in his mouth and she gave a gasp and, taking his hand, put it on the little raised mound of moss-covered flesh at her thigh junction.

Still kneeling, he moved down the bed and raised her thighs, spreading them wide. Her pale, blue eyes watched him with a deep look of concentrated passion.

“Kiss me!” she said.

He looked down at where the raw, pink flesh of her cunt was open and then he slithered down and put his lips to it. She gave a little shriek as she felt his sucking pressure. He began to suck the moist, rain-tasting flesh. He poked his tongue as high as it would go and moved it around against the walls of her vagina. He licked the insides of her hot thighs and found and seized in his lips, the hard, little clitoris.

Dorotea had flung her thighs wide and was wriggling and shrieking with tiny helpless explosions every second. Her hands clenched and unclenched beside her head on the bed and her face, drawn in harrowed passion, swung from side to side with jerky, involuntary movements. Her eyes were closed, her mouth wide open, gasping warm, suffocated breath into the room.

Cesare buried his face between her thighs and put his hands under her buttocks, levering them up.

“Oh, oh, oh, oooooh!”

Her gasping moans assailed his ears, her moist, warm, slipperiness assailed his mouth, the sweet rain-taste lay on his tongue.

His prick was a long, trembling mass of excited, jostling particles. It was heavy, too heavy, needed to throw off ballast, but when he drew his mouth away, she tried to catch at his head and pleaded desperately.

“Oh, don't stop, please? not now!”

He bent back to her and her loins leapt up to meet him. Her mouth was emitting a long, drawn-out and continuous whine. He could sense her whole body twisting and turning in ecstatic torment. He wanted to get in her, but the fury of her excitement was exciting him even more than if he'd rammed into her at this point.

He heard her gasp, felt her scrabbling on the bed, churning up the covers and then she gave a short, low scream and a sticky heat surrounded him.

She continued to writhe and moan for some time after her climax and he continued to kiss her gently, to bring her back to a tensity of passion.

“Oh, God,” she exclaimed at last. “I thought I'd die.”

He came away from her loins then, up her body, tracing its light bulges with his lips. He knelt up, astride her, and she reached down and took his rigid, pulsating penis which stuck out horizontally over her breasts.

She put it between her breasts, which she pushed up into a ravine of cleavage and for several seconds he rubbed up and down in the ravine formed by the warm, firm flesh of her teats. He felt a tingling deep in his loins, deep, perhaps, in his bowels and moved forward on her again.

She reached up, her eyes sparkling with depth, and took his organ in both hands. He leaned forward on his hands and she covered the flaming knob with her lips, enveloping it with that sexy lower jut. She took him into her warm, wet mouth and he felt, with streaks of fire, her tongue licking and nuzzling the passion-point of his knob.

She began to suck as she licked, sucking on the rest of his rigidity, biting gently from time to time. Her eyes watched him, held his, matching his look of furious passion with her own. He held her face with his hands, guiding it, feeling her cheeks hollowing, rhythmically, around the long length of flesh which filled her mouth.

“Harder,” he gritted.

He felt her answering response? a greater pressure on his knob, a tighter embrace from her warm lips. He felt his culmination growing in hell-fire in his loins and he wanted to get in her, but couldn't resist the idea of coming into that lovely, sexy mouth, of watching her face hollowing, her eyes recognizing his orgasm even as he came.

He began to rock slightly, flexing his loins forward as she sucked. She had released his prick with her hands and was stroking his buttocks with them. She was breathing heavily, passionately through her flared nostrils and he could feel her hips moving again under him.

Her hands couldn't stay still on him and he felt them, suddenly, drawing lines of loin-convulsing sensation across and around his balls which hung down against her breasts.

He gasped aloud at the new attack and shoved his prick into her mouth so hard that for a moment she fought for breath and nearly choked before reorientating her embrace.

He gasped again, tensing his loins. He could feel himself starting to come, slowly at first in a sort of smoldering ember. The ember grew. He flexed his loins at her hard and held her face, looking into her eyes, which seemed to gasp into his in a strange visual voice.

Inside him the ember burst into a flame and roared from the pit of its sensation along and along… he looked deep into her eyes, owning her, subduing her under him, wracked with passion. The fire raced through him, quivered in his penis, trembled at the knob and shattered out of him, as he cried out with the agonizing joy of it.

Later, after a glass or two of wine, from which his passion flamed again to meet hers, already kindled, they stood at the foot of the bed, embracing fiercely, brokenly.

They were both alive with the desire of at last joining as one. There was no necessity for preliminaries.

Her thighs were open against him as she clung around his neck. Her warm flesh rubbed up on him, catching his penis between the tops of her thighs, so that it reached right through, rubbing against the lips of her vagina.

Cesare caught her under her rump, holding a buttock in each hand, and lifted her off the floor. She put her arms firmly around his neck and brought her legs up on either side of him, hanging around him as he held her.

He moved to a table in one of the corners of the room. He sat her on its edge, reached under her upraised thighs with his hand and guided himself toward her vagina. He needed to bend his knees a little to get down, and when he straightened, his penis rushed in up to its hilt in one long movement.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh!” she cried out in a staccato chatter of gasps.

His knob felt the softness of flesh up at her cervix. The walls of her channel were tight but moistly prepared against the huge expansion of his desire-bloated organ.

Panting, he pulled her right onto the edge of the table and drove up into her with a pressure that came up from his toes and made his abdomen flop against her crotch. His hairs mingled wetly with hers.

She clung, gaspingly, to his neck, her breasts brushing against his chest, her hair swaying across her face, touching his. She bit his neck and moved her trembling lips around his face to fasten them on his, with her searching tongue flopping out in willing surrender into his mouth, keeping her eyes open for a moment and then closing them as his penis crushed up into her so hard that it brought a spasm of pain into the joy.

She groaned in an orgy of passion, her hanging, floating tongue in his mouth was a symbol of the way she gave herself for him to do as he wished, to hurt her, to give her pain, pleasure, ecstasy, to take her body, her life in his hands.

He slid his hands under her buttocks, so that they rested and flowed around his hands. He lifted her in ecstatic fury off the table and walked away around the room, jogging into her, feeling her rise and fall on him, the two of them working together to produce that white-heat which would blaze out and smother them both in the end of everything.

He flung her down on the bed, coming down heavily on top of her and she twisted in masochistic fury under him, swinging her legs up to her shoulders as if she wanted him to pierce her through, right up to her neck.

He straightened up from her, leaning at an angle, pulling her behind off the bed so that her hips were the highest point of her body. He crashed in and in and up and up, tearing her moist flesh with his great rifling cannon. “Oh, oh, darling!”

She gasped and the gasps became meaning, less words and then sometimes crude, filthy words which were pulled out of her in the effort to express what she felt and which couldn't be expressed.

He flopped onto her and bit her neck so hard that she screamed and a little perforation of the white skin exploded and drops of blood oozed through.

Her body was a live animal, active and straining. She opened her eyes one second, looking at him in a smoldering agony and then, closed them as if the upthrust of his great prick had forced her to do so from sheer weight of sensation.

Cesare could feel his climax approaching again. It was that much more agonizing the second time. It would be relief to unload his store of sperm. A relief that he didn't want to come because he wanted this agony to go on forever.

“Darling, darling,” she screamed. “Now, nearly, now, nearly…”

He felt her thighs squirming and wriggling, enclosing his hips in their heat. He felt her little belly brushing hotly against his. She caught his face again and thrust her tongue into his mouth, pushing it out and out as if she wanted to transfer it totally from her own body to his.

He bit it and felt her scream rather than heard it. His prick seemed loaded down with the weight of thunder. The thunder was preparing to burst. The relief was coming.

“Now, yes!” he barked and heard her answering gasps.

The thunder grew into a great, black cloud and suddenly burst so that the liquid, hot rain came thundering down and burst through and up into her belly as she screamed and jack-knifed her legs up and down several times.

This was merely the beginning of their night of love.