The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Well, my dear sister,” Florentine asked Julia after breakfast, “what happened last night? Why did I have to 'go so quickly to Paris?”

“Because I had quite an unexpected adventure.” Julia was radiant. She told her sister in detail what had happened, and she also mentioned that she had promised to visit Michael in his studio.

“You better be very careful, dear. This Mister Michael has seen you without a mask, and undoubtedly he would recognize you instantly!”

“Oh, I don't think that he moves around in our circles. I don't for one instant deny that you are right, but somehow I feel compelled to see this adventure through to the very end. This Michael Lompret is original and natural and I am irresistibly drawn to him. His language is different, his ideas are new and fresh, and love to him is natural and uncomplicated. I am not in love with him, not yet. But my thoughts have been constantly with him. In fact, I have not thought about anything or anybody else.”

“Aha! You are that far gone already!” Madame Vaudrez smilingly wagged her finger.

“Oh, no! Don't be silly,” Julia answered, somewhat irritated. And, changing the subject quickly, “What have you and Maxim been doing?”

“Darling, I have discovered a whole new world. I have lived on an island of indescribable happiness!”

“Oh? Could you be a little bit more specific, please? What did you do on that island?”

“Oh, well, actually nothing in particular. I mean, we did not do anything that you had not already taught me, but it was more refined and — I don't know precisely how to say this-it got me infinitely more excited. The moustache and his squirting, it all made a big difference. You see when a man knows how to make love in the same way women can love one another, there are certain advantages.”

“In other words, I have been dethroned?”

“Oh, no… darling! How could you say that!”

“Sister dear, as far as my personal preferences go, I will never beg you for the pleasure. I am not so fond of these refinements as you are. I simply don't have the time to slowly enjoy these voluptuous pleasures. My blood boils too quickly when I am being caressed by an expert. And then I want to feel it deep inside me. That eternal knocking and slurping at the front door would drive me insane, because it gives me no deep ecstasy. One of these days, dear Florentine, I want to meet a man who is fully compatible in body and soul. And when that day arrives, I'll be the happiest woman in the world.

“And for that you would really drop your mask?”

“I really don't know what I would do. But it seems to me that your mask is an obstacle to ultimate pleasures in lovemaking.”

“It was in the way just a little bit.”

“You better watch out, sister dear.”

“You don't have to worry, Mrs. Careful. But what about your Michelangelo? Don't you think you should have him checked out by Dorothy?”

“Oh, no,” Julia said. “I don't want anybody to meddle in this romance. It would destroy the freshness, the naturalness of our affair. I want to find out if I can find happiness with this man!”

Her dark eyes sparkled, and Florentine, who knew the danger signs of her sister's outbursts, began to laugh.

“Come, come, Julia,” she reprimanded, “don't get so upset. I'll take Cherub into the park and play with him for awhile. Why don't you lie down and quiet your nerves. Then we can talk all afternoon.”

But Julia was not in the mood for any talking. She wanted to be in the arms of Michael Lompret. She was also disappointed to hear that her sister continued her lesbian practices, even though it was with a man. She wished that she had never introduced her sister to muffdiving and cocksucking. She therefore said, “No dear, I have a lot to do tomorrow. I think it is better for me to return to Paris.”

* * *

Julia was not the only one that day who was walking around slightly frustrated, and looking for a way to remove the emptiness that clutched at her heart. Maxim de Berny had lived through one of the most voluptuous nights he had ever spent in his entire young officer's life. But nevertheless, something was lacking. He adored his unknown Lady Evergreen, and he had no intention of giving her up. He definitely would show up whenever the sphinx summoned him. But he deemed it only proper to find another outlet for his desires to compensate for those things which his secretive paramour might deny him forever.

He walked down the district where the courtesans lived, looking for a pick-up who might restore his feeling of manliness. “Yes,” he thought, “that's it. I am the man! Not a partner in a silly lesbian affair! I admit that it was delicious, but even Lady Evergreen is not going to emasculate me. One of these days I shall teach her what a good fuck really is.” His pace quickened as he walked through the district.

The girl was young and fair. If it had not been her profession, she would have gladly taken this young, blond officer into her home for free. Now all she could do to show her appreciation to him for having selected her, was to take off her clothes as quickly as possible. She wished she did not have to remember the feel of her quim from her previous customer, but there was nothing a girl could do about the way she chose to make an honest living.

Maxim was kissing her neck, sucking up the young, tender flesh. 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 a man she'd always dreamed about. She tensed her thighs, sighed a deep sigh of passion and gave herself to their union.

Maxim's fingers seemed to burn as they coursed gently over her flesh. He kept imagining that he was doing these things to Lady Evergreen, and his passion became even greater. His gentle fingers tasted her softness and roundness, the glossy texture of her smooth skin, her warm and responsive trembling. Her body rubbed and squirmed against his and he dug his fingers deep into her, grabbing the flesh in a handful until she squealed.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed. He stood over her, reaching down, catching her breasts. He eased them up toward him, elongating them with his hands. He knelt beside her and bending over, kissed her fiercely, invading her mouth with his insisting tongue. He pulled his mouth suckingly from hers, catching a small, pink nipple between his teeth. He sucked at her breasts, drawing as much of the solid flesh in his mouth as he could. Her nipples hardened and she gasped loudly. She took his hand and put it on the furry triangle that covered her slit.

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. Could this be how the eyes of Lady Evergreen would look if it weren't for that damned mask?

“Kiss me.” she begged.

He looked down where the pink flesh of her cunt was open and then he slithered down putting his lips to it. Yes, he had had a good taskmaster! She gave a surprised 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, moving around the walls of her sheath. He licked the insides of her hot thighs, then found and seized in his lips the hardening clitoris.

The girl had flung her thighs wide and was wriggling and shrieking with tiny, helpless explosions every second. Her fists clenched and unclenched beside her head on the bed. Her face was drawn in harrowed passion, swinging from side to side with jerky, involuntary movements. Maxim buried his face deep between her thighs, cupping his hands under her taut buttocks, levering them up. “Oh, oh, oh, ooooh!!'

Her-gasping moans assailed his ears, her moist, warm slipperiness drove him to a frenzy. His prick had become heavy, too heavy, and he needed to throw off his load. But when he drew his mouth away, she tried to catch at his head, pleading desperately with him not to stop now. He bent back to her and her loins leapt up to meet him. Her mouth was emitting a long, drawn out, continuous whine. This was a woman he possessed, rather than a woman who possessed him. He could sense her whole body twisting and turning in ecstatic torment. He wanted to get into her, but the fury of her excitement was at this point more fascinating to him than ramming it in and fucking her.

He heard her gasp. She shuddered and reached a long, drawn out climax. She continued to writhe and moan and he continued to kiss and lick her gently, bringing her back to a second intensity of passion. Maxim came away from her loins then, and moved up her body, tracing its light bulges with his lips. He knelt astride her, and she reached down, taking his rigid pulsating penis which stuck out horizontally between her breasts.

She put it between her marvelous titties, pushing them up into a ravine of cleavage and for several moments he was rubbing up and down between the warm, firm flesh of her breasts. He felt a tingling deep in his loins and he moved forward on her again.

She reached up, her eyes sparkling with lust, and took his prick in both hands. He leaned forward on his hands and she covered the flaming knob with her lips. She took it into her 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 on the shaft from time to time. Her eyes watched him-those beautiful blue eyes! 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 gasped.

He felt her answering response and he began to rock slightly. She had released his prick from her hands and was stroking his muscular 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 had to fight for breath.

He pulled his throbbing prick out of her mouth and moved down. He took her by the ankles and lifted her legs, spreading them as they rose. He bent her legs way back, whispering. “Oooh, those legs, those beautiful legs… now I am going to possess those beautiful legs and I am going to fuck the delicious little cunt in between them' Ooh, my dear, dear Evergreen, finally I am going to fuck that delicious cunt between your legs.”

She hooked her slender legs over his shoulders, his hips went ahead and his prick drove deeply into her young, quivering body.

He pushed his muscular shoulders forward, hands cupping her strongly. Lifting her, he gained deeper entrance. She began to moan, her hips began writhing, moving ahead then back, then twisting before rising again, hard and solid against his hips.

All the while he murmured, “Oooh… Evergreen… Evergreen… I am holding your legs, your beautiful legs… I am the Master… I want your cunt!”

She was oblivious of his chattering. “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh,” she cried out in a staccato chatter of gasps.

His knob felt the softness of flesh high up in her belly. The walls of her cunt were tight and warm, but moistly prepared against the huge expansion of his desire-bloated prick.

Pantingly he drove up into her with all the pressure he could muster. It seemed as if his passion began all the way down in his toes. His belly flopped against her crotch and his hairs mingled wetly with hers. His prick crushed up into her so hard that it brought a spasm of pain into her joy. She groaned in an orgy of passion. Her hanging, floating tongue in his mouth had now become the symbol of his complete mastery over her. She had given herself to him to do as he wished. He could hurt her, give her pain, pleasure, take her body and twist her soul.

Again he crashed heavily down on top of her and she twisted in ecstatic fury under him, as if she wanted him to pierce her through, right up to the 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.

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

“Now… now…” he barked a command, and he could hear her answering gasps.

The thunder grew into a great cloud which suddenly burst. The liquid hot rain burst through and up into her belly as she screamed and jackknifed her legs up and down several times.

* * *

Madame de Corriero's heart was pounding rapidly when she made plans to escape the solicitous eyes of her devoted Dorothy. The maid had laid out a simple pearl-gray travel costume and knew therefore that her mistress was planning a trip.

But Julia's plan for deception was as simple as it was effective. She had ordered her coachman to drive her to the station, and to be sure to avoid suspicion, her maid had bought a ticket to one of the outlying towns. She ordered the coachman to pick her up at a certain time, and walked inside the big hall. Once she was sure that her servants had disappeared, she simply hailed a cab, and gave him the address of Michael Lompret.

Michael's door opened promptly when the cab drove up. An elderly servant stood at the opening and said, “Would Madame be so kind as to go inside. I will take care of the coachman.” The old man-his name was Jonathan-had carefully looked Julia over, and his gaze was one of complete approval.

Two open arms awaited Julia when she entered the artist's studio and her first thought was that this was a rather expensive home for an artist. The cottage-type house, and the fact that Michael had a manservant implied that his artistic endeavors did not exactly keep him in poverty. For some reason, Julia had not expected this home.

Michael kissed her fervently, Julia slightly protested that his servant could see it. Michael did not care in the least.

“Jonathan is my cook, my housekeeper, my father-confessor and, at times I even believe he thinks that he's my mother.” Michael laughed, and his fervent lips again pressed firmly against Julia's mouth, his strong arms encircling her.

“Listen, my darling Madcap,” he said, “we are here in an artist's home and not at a public exhibition. You can be too careful, you know.”

“That's all well and good,” Julia replied, “but I intend to keep my reputation blameless as far as the members of my own society are concerned. Why don't you give me the address of your tailor, and I will ask him to make me some men's clothes.”

“A splendid idea! Then we can be really good friends. We can travel wherever we want, go hiking, out for picnics, and the only thing people will think is that I am a queer! But for you, my darling, I would do anything. I have an even better idea. After breakfast I shall send Jonathan to my tailor and have the man come here. In that case he will never be able to find out who you are!”

Jonathan entered and announced that breakfast was ready. They walked into a small, cozy dining room. A table for two had been set.

“Oysters, truffles, and champagne,” Julia exclaimed, adding laughingly, “are you planning a two man orgy?”

“As I said, my darling, with you and for you I'll do anything.”

“That sounds dangerously like a proposal.”

“And what of it. I want to spread the whole world before your feet. My whole world! See here… the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, my workroom, the dining room, and a splendid little garden. Dearest lady, I want you to consider it your home.”

They had breakfast. Jonathan served, but he appeared only when Michael rang for him. Michael was overjoyed to discover that this fascinating woman understood him immediately, regardless of the subject. He seriously thought about making her his life's companion. This was the first time he had found a beautiful woman who understood the meanderings of his artistic mind.

Jonathan served coffee and cigarettes, not in the least surprised that Michael asked him to put it on a little end table next to the couch.

“Thanks, old man,” Michael said when Jonathan announced that he would be on his way to the tailor, “and don't forget to tell my model — you know, the little brunette-that she does not have to come in today.”

Though nothing-in the world was more natural than that an artist would have a model, Julia could not help but feel a little pang of jealousy. A cloud crossed her lovely face.

“What's wrong, my little Madcap?” he asked.

“Why do you all of a sudden look so stern and reserved?”

Without thinking about the implications of her question, Julia asked, “What model?”

As Michael was too much of a man of the world not to understand what was in Julia's mind, he was also smart enough not to show it.

“Oh,” her,” he said. “She is a little girl of about fourteen years I would guess. I saw her yesterday walking around in Montmartre and asked her to come in and pose for some sketches. I am planning to do a painting of a little gypsy beggar, and I think that she is just about perfect for it. If you want, I'll show you some of the preliminaries I did of her from memory.”

Julia had regained her confidence again and Michael, noticing this, put his arms around her shoulder and pulled her toward him. A warm feeling flowed through Julia. She had not known this since that day Count Saski had left her to marry the choice of his Aunt Athena. It seemed ages ago now. She relaxed against Michael's strong shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Madcap… you are so beautiful,” the young man whispered.

Madcap did not answer, but Michael's hand upon her heart could feel it pound strongly.

“You know, darling, that the sight of beauty is headier than the best wine to an artist. Can't you feel how my entire heart cries out for you? Can you understand that this moment will decide whether my life is going to be happy or unhappy? I beg of you, be a woman, a real woman, and don't play with me. Please, don't let convention force you to hide your true feelings. Tell me, do you love me as much as I love you?”

Julia did not answer. Her head nestled more comfortably against his shoulders. She looked up at him, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. When they broke loose to take a deep breath, they both knew that they were in love with each other. Past and present disappeared. Time stood still, and they were both drunk with heavy passion. Michael stammered “I love you… please, be mine… always,” and his hands fumbled around with her clothing. He began to get impatient and finally ripped the buttons of the pearl-gray travel costume.

A cloud of delicious perfume came toward him. It was a mixture of pure woman smell and costly essence. It fired his passions to greater action and he simply ripped off the remaining clothes. He caressed her white shoulders with passionate kisses.-It was not the brutality of rape, but the tender caress of a connoisseur.

During this wild embrace his hands worked quickly unbuttoning Julia's bodice, stripping her stockings, her corset, and finally the last part of her clothing fell to the floor and she lay naked in his arms.

She had made one last defensive gesture; one could not call it a struggle, and he knew that it was the last vestige of convention which still had a strong hold on her. But he also knew that he was winning. She was sighing happily under his expert caresses. He became bolder. He tickled the thighs of the beautiful young woman with his blond beard.

Julia was stretched halfway across the couch now, and only the goose pimples on her tender skin were silent witnesses to the intensity with which she received Michael's love. The artist pushed her softly back upon the pillows, threw her legs around his neck and opened his trousers which suddenly had become quite uncomfortable because of the enormous bulge.

The firm, round thighs were now directly in front of him, their apex crowned by her lovely Venus mound covered with radiant black curls. It drove him out of his mind. His lips eagerly sought the costly treasure, but Julia had had enough foreplay-she wanted the real thing. There are people who are that lucky! Once they meet the right person, elaborate necking and petting is not necessary. They keep that as a dessert rather than using their energy for the hors d'oeuvre. Both Michael and Julia belonged to these elect people; their ecstasies lasted for hours and hours.

They did not dream about separating their bodies after they had been shaken by the paroxysms of their lovemaking. Instead, they kept arms and legs intertwined, their lips warmly together, whispering endearing words to one another, especially, “I love you.”

And then, after only a few minutes, they would go at it again with as much enthusiasm as if they had been love-starved for weeks.