The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER TWO

The carriage rolled merrily through the streets of Paris, and soon it had left the town.

The clickety-clack of the horses' hooves, the pleasure awaiting him, and the presence of this young innocent thing who was now Madame George Vaudrez made his head spin. He took the little hands of his young wife between his own and squeezed them tenderly. From time to time he bent his head forward and kissed the pretty little forehead which had just become his very own property. She accepted his advances without blushing and without any sign of embarrassment. In short, she was as chaste as anyone could have wished. Anyone, that is, but George Vaudrez. He did not belong to the sentimental class. He was a man of few words and he liked his women honest and down to earth. Lately he had been having trouble, and by marrying Florentine he had hoped to be able to restore his flagging powers. It had been a few months since he had had his last female. She had been an earthy peasant girl, and he had lured her into his bed with promises of wealth and riches.

He could still remember this encounter. Her arms and legs had clamped around his body as if they were tight screws. She had tried to squeeze him into her body even deeper than he had already penetrated.

George was getting hot at the mere remembrance of this encounter, and he squeezed his wife's hands more ardently, his kisses became more passionate, and he could barely wait for the carriage to arrive at his mansion's front door.

The warm hand of his young bride stirred George's imagination, and he sank in reveries, dreaming about his last bout with the peasant girl. He had sworn not to see her again, and save all his remaining strength for his wedding night. But, his mind weakened, and the proceedings of that night forced themselves vividly upon his mind and body. He could actually feel the firm thighs clamping around his waist. He closed his eyes and he could see Nanette as clearly as he had seen her that night. She lay there, spread-eagled on his bed, waiting for more. Her eyes were closed and her golden hair fell down in strands across her voluptuous shoulders and large breasts. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, giving him a full view of her rounded belly, her wide, yawning cleft, covered with moist curly hairs. The view had excited him tremendously. Her heaving bosom and her panting breath, the fingers clawing the bed sheets, and her feet planted firmly against the bed board, her full behind lifted up and rotating slowly in hot desire, had given him immense pleasure.

“Oh, God!” George woke up from his reveries. The enormous bulge in his pants betrayed his thoughts, and it was too late to stop thinking about his dear, exciting Nanette. He glanced at his bride who sat next to him with a faint smile around her lips, looking at the countryside.

He had turned Nanette slowly around. The girl was almost lifeless and allowed herself to be put upon her stomach without any struggle.

Her behind was fabulous. The two snow-white globes were full and firmer, and as snow white as her fantastic breasts. He had begun to stroke them, softly at first. Then he started to squeeze and grab. His hands were filled with firm resilient female flesh. He had positioned himself behind her, his knees resting upon her heavy, well-rounded calves. It was with great difficulty that he had succeeded in sticking his fingers between the large derriere. The buttocks were firmly pressed against one another.

“Oh, this beautiful behind,” he thought. “Oh, marvelous, to squeeze it with one hand, and jack off with the other.”

But Nanette seemed to come out of her torpor.

“What happened? Did I fall asleep? Yes? Oh, but surely only for a little while. Dear God, what a marvelous fuck that was. I can still feel your prick deep inside my cunt. Where is the sweet little one? Aah, there he is.”

She played with his prick, causing it to stand up again, and her fingers slowly squeezed his balls, one finger straying all the way down into his rectum, slowly inserting it and slowly pulling it back.

“Oh, Seigneur,” she had said, “that one will be as hard as ever in just a moment. The gentlemen are so much better than the peasants I have to go with. You made me come at least ten times before you squirted yourself. Please, do it again to me. Yes, yes… that's it. Another hard-on. Oh, please, please, come quickly. I'm sure you can do it again.”

Her hands had grabbed him and she tried to hold George's buttocks, ready to help him push it in up to the hilt. But, this time George intended to make it last even longer. “Don't take your finger out of there,” he commanded. “Keep it there, and give me a nice massage while I am pumping you.”

“Jesus, I've never tried that before. Are you sure you'd like that? Here, is that what you want?” she had asked, obediently sticking her finger in his asshole, and gently massaging it.

“Yes, yes,” he panted, “and now move it back and forth… fuck me in the ass with your finger… yes, that's it… stronger, harder… oh, my God, dear God, I am getting fucked on both sides…”

Nanette got a new idea. “Listen, can you fuck me in my behind?”

“I'll be delighted,” George had answered, “but I must warn you that your asshole is much narrower than your cunt, and it may hurt you terribly.”

“I don't care. It sounds terribly exciting, and I want you to do it!” She had pushed him away from her and quickly turned around, kneeling on the bed, resting upon her forearms. Her heavy breasts swung excitedly, the big tips almost touching the mattress. With a little bit of spittle and a lot of pressure, George succeeded in penetrating the inviting little orifice.

“Ooh, I would never have believed that such a big prick could get in my tiny asshole,” Nanette whimpered. But the novelty of the situation soon got her very excited and she slowly rotated her huge buttocks. “Ooh, it's all the way in… I can feel it. My God, it's pushing against my heart… it feels as if it is going to come out my throat. Please, hold on to my tits… pinch my nipples… harder, harder!” She had spread her big cheeks with both hands, and was furiously pushing backwards. “Quick, quicker,” she panted, “push it in as deep as you can. Ooh, good, I can feel your big prick filling me up all over. Jesus, I am coming, and you haven't even touched my cunt… I'm coming again… I'm getting wet without having anything in my cunt… oh, God, it's fantastic to have your big prick pumping in my behind.” In her excitement, Nanette squeezed her buttocks firmly together and George could no longer hold back. His fingers dug hard into her fleshy bosom. His belly smacked wildly against her firm buttocks and he could feel his climax coming. Nanette had clamped his balls firmly between her buttocks, and while Nanette released a stream of gasping cries, George groaned agonizingly, clenching his fingers into her enormous tits.

The memory of that night caused a swarming sensation in George's loins and he gasped inaudibly, feeling his penis burst into a thousand pieces. He fought for breath and consciousness, felt himself slowly regain both.

“Oh, my Lord,” George thought. “How am I ever going to get through my wedding night?” He felt wrung out, and was sure that he could not perform his conjugal duties that night.

The new husband lifted his wife from the carriage. They were greeted by a discreet, kindly-looking chambermaid whose features were irreproachable, but whose eyes twinkled and said much more.

Florentine's room was ready and waiting for her. The most delicate and exquisite furniture had been brought together there.

“Oh, you are so sweet to me,” said the young bride with conviction. They were both sitting in her new apartments, after a most carefully planned dinner, and Florentine poured a cup of tea for her husband of several hours.

“Oh, no, my dearly beloved, it is you who are sweet for me. You have decided to make me the caretaker of your life, and I can hardly wait to take possession of you.” While George said that, he was wondering how it would go, because he had spent considerable energy with his wet daydream in the carriage that afternoon.

“I don't understand. Aren't you already my lord and master?”

“Not quite yet, my dearest. I have merely acquired the right to become it. For the time being, that's all.” He thought, “Could it be possible that this gorgeous child is really as innocent as she pretends to be? Did her aunt give her any instructions at all? Would Madame Briquart really have flubbed the opportunity to occupy her imagination with the forbidden fruit?” It was unbelievable. As a mater of fact, it was too good to be true. He was wedded to an honest-to-goodness innocent virgin, while he had thought that those things had gone out with the turn of the century. However, he had to be very careful.

“Do you believe, my dearest little one, that what happened this morning in church was the ultimate joy of love?”

The young wife blushed, lowering her head. “I don't know,” she murmured softly.

Superb! Delicious! George felt triumphant. Excitement stirred his loins again at the mere thought of plucking this innocent flower.

“It really was not, you know,” he began. “I will teach you the beauty of the love between husband and wife. I want you to be at ease with me. Your corset, for instance. I am sure that it must be quite uncomfortable. Do you need your maid to help you take it off?”

“Oh no!”

“Very well, then… give her the rest of the evening off, and we can do it together.”

Mariette was dismissed, and George carefully bolted the door behind her.

Florentine had already gone into her dressing room, following her husband's advice.

George, hidden by the curtain, watched his wife. His blood was reaching the boiling point at the sight of those marvelous white arms and shoulders. Florentine turned halfway around, loosing her hair which cascaded down her shoulders, covering her naked breasts only partially, leaving the large rosy tips in full view. George could feel his temples throb. He could no longer contain himself, and, when his bride was standing there, clad only in her chemise, he rushed out from behind the curtain and seized her roughly in his arms.

“Oh George… you frightened me!” the young girl cried out, blushing terribly and feeling extremely confused.

Deep down inside she had imagined that the life of a married woman contained some sort of mystery, but she had no idea that it contained this sort of childish peek-a-boo. But both her aunt and her father-confessor had firmly implanted in her mind that one day she was to become a wife, and she would have to submit to the desires of her husband. Oh, well, she had drawn a husband who liked to play games.

George was very pale as he took her in his arms, covering her with passionate kisses on her lips, shoulders and breasts while she desperately tried to hide them from sight.

Suddenly his burning fingers slid down the narrow of her back, each hand firmly grabbing hold of one gorgeous buttock. He was writhing with lust and pressed his dry, passionate mouth upon her lush, rosy lips.

In spite of his wife's efforts to regain her composure, George succeeded in grabbing her thighs and knees. Two white velvet bands held up the silk stockings which covered her well-formed, slender legs. He took them off, and rolled down the thin material which covered her legs. He lifted her feet and pulled off the stockings. She began to feel like a trapped bird, and-emitting little cries of fright-ran to the other side of the room.

George looked at her with adoration, his blood drumming wildly through his perspiring body, his eyes brilliant with all the fire and lust, pushed to the extreme.

“Florentine, my little darling,” he said, purring. “Why are you so afraid of me? Don't flee! Am I not your husband? Why do you refuse to be my wife?”

“You are not mad at me? I… I don't understand…”

“Very well. Come here, and I will explain to you the difference between a young girl and a married woman.”

“But… I don't dare… not like this… I am not dressed,” answered his young wife, looking down upon her lack of clothing.

“My dear child, what are you worrying about? The fact that you are barely dressed? But that is the most beautiful costume there is! It is especially reserved for the celebration of love between husband and wife. Look, I'll put you at ease and throw off whatever could interfere with the burning desire of our love.”

And, adding action to his words, George promptly took off his clothes and walked over to his wife, wearing only his drawers.

“Come here,” he said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her to a sofa. “Close to me… yes… that's it. Now then, I am going to make you understand what my love demands of yours. Because you do love me, you will love me, won't you, my pretty one, my adorable, little wife? You must have read in the Holy Bible that man and woman form the same flesh, the same blood, when they are united by the holy sacrament of marriage?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Very well. And what do you think must be done to achieve this? Let me tell you: by letting your husband take possession of the treasures that are locked inside you. No, not in this charming breast which I am fondling and not in the beautiful buttocks I was caressing. But here, in the deepest part of your being, whose entrance I am covering now with my hand… right here, where I am putting my finger.”

George had slung his left arm around his wife's shoulders, holding her half-lying down next to him, and his right hand was free to explore Florentine's hitherto hidden treasure. The poor girl was beginning to feel the effects, and her hips, quite involuntarily, began a slow rotating motion.

“To make you completely mine, I shall have to get into you.”

“But how could that be possible?”

“Don't you know that a man is in certain respects different from a woman?”

“Well, yes, women have longer hair, they wear dresses and-up here-to feed the baby they… ah…” The poor girl blushed and stammered.

George, however, driven by his passion, became relentless. His finger pushed a little bit deeper, making his young wife squirm and sigh. “But down here, do you know that we differ there, too?”

“No.”

“Give me your hand… feel it, and look at it.”

George uncovered his instrument of penetration which was quite erect and throbbing wildly. “God has made this and put it at the man's disposal so that he may exercise his domination.” He pronounced this sentence very unctuously, meanwhile forcing his wife's tiny hand around his stiff tool, taking her by the wrist and moving her hand up and down very slowly.

“You, my dearest one, are the quiver for this arrow. It will victoriously enter you and deposit its seed upon the fruit of your womb. You know that last line, don't you?”

Florentine nodded silently, but it was obvious that she had not yet completely grasped the meaning of her husband's words.

“It will also initiate you in all the pleasures of love. Now you know everything there is to it. I ask you again, do you want to be my wife? Do you want to fulfill the promise you made me this morning?”

“Yes,” murmured a scarcely audible voice.

“And you promise me to be courageous? You see, darling, the first attempt at making love… ah… usually turns out to be quite a struggle.” The old lecher could barely keep from shouting with joy. “The… ah… door to paradise is closed, and I have to, though with reluctance, force my entry.” George thought he would come at the mere thought, and he did not want a repetition of what had happened that afternoon in the carriage.

Florentine mumbled something, but George did not listen. He lifted his young wife from the sofa and carried her into the other room and placed her upon the huge bed which awaited them.

He took off the rest of his clothes and with-a victorious leap stretched out next to her, his hairy legs alongside her soft, hairless ones. He reached over and caressed her soft, lightly moist belly with one hand, her breast with the other and with his lips caressed her ear. Finally, he climbed on top of her and with trembling hands attempted to separate his wife's luscious white thighs. She kept them tightly pressed together, either out of fright or because of lack of skill. Finally he succeeded in prying the reluctant thighs apart, bringing into full view the golden fleece with its half-hidden rosy lips. He told himself, “The hour of victory is at hand.”

George Vaudrez was still remarkably virile for his age, especially when his many debaucheries were taken into consideration. He could keep it up and hard for a long time. Many men his of his age would be absolutely incapable of remaining in this long state of excitation without suffering permanent damage to their hearts. But this time it was not just any bout in the bedroom-it was a decisive battle, and he discovered to his dismay that more was needed than just a great desire.

The foreplay and the explanations had taken considerable time, and the husband discovered with horror that his tool of conquest began to show signs of tiring. In short, his prick was slowly shrinking and instead of a proud erection, it showed a dangerous tendency to dangle. His victorious mood changed into one of utter helplessness which once and for all took the last vestige of an erection out of his once so virile sign of manhood. It was now totally impossible to penetrate the fortress, just after he had finally succeeded in getting it at his mercy.

“Oh, Lord, how stupid of me,” he thought. “Why on earth didn't I take that fortifying potion Albert offered me.”

“You are going about it all wrong,” his well-meaning friend had warned him.

“Good God, yes! I was wrong. Fortunately, Florentine is as innocent as a new-born babe. I'll have to trick her.”

He valiantly kept up his rubbing motions on his wife's honey-pot. Suddenly he felt the tiny tickler stand up and swell. Stifled sighs escaped from Florentine's lips. She was winding on the mattress like a snake. George kept rubbing his shriveled limp prick over his wife's treasure. But it was to no avail. He had lost all ability, and Florentine was about to reach a climax. Immediate measures were necessary. George grabbed her tickler firmly between thumb and forefinger, rolling it furiously, making little up and down motions. He felt a few tiny twitches in his tired loins, and a little drop of semen slowly leaked upon his wife's golden fleece. At the same time, Florentine arched her back, went into a spasm and uttered a loud cry. George had put his tiny sacrifice on the doorstep of her altar.

Though she was still a virgin, Florentine was no longer innocent, for she had just experienced her first sensations of carnal love.

George was furious. He was conquered by a virgin! He looked sadly down upon his wife who was half unconscious on the bed and he waited and prayed for Cupid to help him in his predicament. While waiting, he fell soundly asleep until morning.

Florentine was rather weakened by those first stirrings of love and she, too, slept soundly till the next morning. She awakened with a smile, and was bold enough to press a loving kiss upon her husband's forehead.

Marriage, after all, was not the terrible thing it was made out to be. She had rather sweet memories of her wedding night.

George did not feel completely up to par after the battle of the previous night and he had not sufficiently recovered to attempt a new bout. He preferred to use the same ruse and responding to his wife's caresses, he repeated the same little scene of the wedding night. Florentine's young body was pressed coaxingly � against him, her thighs were opened wide and his fingers became entangled in the soft fleece of her golden pussy. He lingered at the spender of pleasures and began to rub the little devil which was hidden in its red velvet grotto. The tickler began to throb slightly, Florentine arched her back, her hips began to rotate and the rosy tips of her marble-white young breasts began to jut firmly against his searching lips. He was about to penetrate the moist sanctuary when the same thing happened again. His half-erect prick grew limp, and George realized the difficulties that were awaiting him if he expected to win the final battle. It had become a matter of do or die, and George was willing to postpone the latter alternative, even if it meant to incur the ridicule of his friends.

Florentine was no longer a novice. She clearly liked her husband's ministrations and was eager to experience the same sensations of the previous night. Fortunately, the poor thing had no inkling that this not supposed to be done with a husband's fingers! She moved in perfect rhythm and was rewarded by a spasm of prolonged intensity which was more delicious than the one she had experienced the previous night.

“Tomorrow,” George told himself, “I'll take that potion, and finish this ridiculous fumbling once and for all. I've got to win! Albert may make fun of me as much as he wants, but Goddamn it! I have to fuck my wife or life isn't worth living. No more foreplay. On top of her and hump, as soon as I get my potion. I'll send my valet to Paris right after breakfast and he'd better be back with the bottle before nightfall.”

After breakfast they decided to pick up Julia and Aunt Briquart, who had promised to visit Charmettes and stay for dinner.