Madame Couer-Brulant - The Cousins,volume II

Her tiny hands clutched him with the force of a madman, digging into his broad shoulders. Her knees stretched back, her buttocks wriggled under his strong thighs, her face contorted and then her whole body was wracked and tormented in a series of unending convulsions. Her soft passage reached the extreme sensation and the liquid juices exploded as the breath was drawn from her body in a furious aching sigh. Michael had won!

As he felt the channel grow big around his penis, he forced himself deeper into Julia, holding her firmly, pressing and grinding against her without jerking his hips. His head swayed in ecstasy and then he withdrew, thrust slowly in again-and again-and with a last deep surge, his love juices broke through, spattering in swift spurts high up in Julia's body. He rammed into her, gasping, until the very last of his emotions had been drained from him. He settled slowly down on her hot, soft body and lay, crushing her breasts and belly with his weight until they both fell asleep from complete exhaustion.

When they awoke in the morning next to each other in the wide bed, they barely looked human.

A cold bath and a heavy breakfast with lots of coffee revived them quickly. Nevertheless it took several days before they had completely recuperated from that night. It had one advantage; Michael could set up the painting he was going to make of Julia without any interruptions other than a kiss, or a meal taken together. During those sessions heart and mind won out over pure lust and passion, thus weaving their lives together in such a way that only catastrophe could have separated them.

Dorothy did not particularly like the new friend and Julia had a lot of explaining to do. It was very important for her that Dorothy would like Michael, because Julia had decided to take her lover to La Bidouze castle, and she would have suffered if the separation would have had to be a painful one.

La Bidouze was a beautiful castle on the banks of the river by the same name in the Pyrenees. It belonged to the General's inheritance, and Julia had long ago decided to restore the old building and to live there several months out of the year. And nothing was more obvious to explain than the presence of a painter.

As always, Dorothy undertook all the preparations, and she was slightly mollified by the idea that she was still indispensable to her mistress. She had been terribly miffed because Julia had not used her sphinx intrigue to come up with the one and only. She consoled herself however, by pooh-poohing this affair with the thought that it was only a passing phase.

Before he left Michael asked, “Darling, where are we?”

“At my home.”

“Your home? I thought you lived on the boulevard St. Michel?”

“Officially, yes. This is my Buen Retiro, my little love nest.”

“Little! Is this the place where this Polish Count of yours…”

“Michael, dear… your jealousy is showing. No, it is not!”

“How do you explain that this whole place is designed to receive a lover?”

Julia knew that Michael would form his own opinions unless she told him the truth. She spared him a few lurid details-and also forgot to mention the Count de Paliseul-but she did tell about the terrible loneliness that she and her sister had felt after both had become widows as such a young age. She told him about her incestuous affair with her sister, and how Dorothy, her trusted chambermaid, had joined in the lovemaking. Then she told him about Dorothy's plan to buy this home, and the intrigue with the sphinx.

“You are two terribly perverted sisters.”

“I think, my dear, that in the past few days you have gathered enough proof that you are wrong. At least, as far as I am concerned. I prefer the real thing infinitely above all these artificial means.”

“You are right. I was only kidding, because I see absolutely no crime in a method of preference. It's about the same with people who prefer champagne over burgundy. Both are very heady, but the taste is different. But I am glad you have told me, and I promise that you can count on my complete discretion.”

“I don't doubt that for a minute, Mister Lompret, and I would call it an honor, if you, kind Sir, would show up at my next reception. I will be glad to serve you personally.”

“And I, dear Lady, am equally as honored to accept your kind invitation.”

No one was more curious that afternoon of Donna de Corriero's reception than her sister, Florentine Vaudrez. She almost burst with curiosity, nearly jumping up from her seat when the servant announced Michael Lompret.

She saw a man of the world, extremely good looking, who greeted the lady of the house with mannered, formal politeness. Even Florentine, who knew all the details of their love bouts, would never have guessed that Michael Lompret and her sister knew each other intimately.

After he had left, the two sisters looked at each other.

“A well brought up young man, your Michelangelo,” Florentine said, slightly spiteful, adding hastily as Julia's eyes flared up, “Who knows? Maybe fate works better than our hideout on the Rue Charles V.”

“I think it does, though our love nest is a brilliant invention.”

“Isn't it, ladies?” Dorothy was eager for praise. “Neither one of you has been bored since we started this.” And she emphasized the word “we.”

“You are positively right, my dearest girl,” Julia said, glad that Dorothy did not seem to be angered, “and since you have helped your mistress above and beyond the call of duty, I bequeath to you the complete wardrobe of Madame Pomegranate Flower, who just last week, had to return to her social duties in far-away Andalusia.”

“Next week my dear big bad wolf, I am going to the Pyrenees,” Julia de Corriero said one morning when she awoke in Michael's arms.

“You are going away? You mean we are not going to see each other again?”

“Who said anything about not seeing each other? Aren't you as free as I am? Who is there to prevent you from following me in a couple weeks? I have an old castle down there which needs restoring. It is positively loaded with old paintings, and what is more natural than that you supervise the restoration? Besides, I am getting a little tired from the busy life in Paris. I want to leave my sister alone in our love nest and moreover, the castle is so faraway from the hustle and bustle of society that nobody, I am sure, will pay us a visit.”

“Well, in that case, darling, I am not going to wait fourteen days. I'll follow you within a few.”

“Fine, that's a date,” she said as she opened her thighs to allow Michael Lompret full entrance with his big, throbbing prick.

Meanwhile, in Florentine's part of the building, near disaster struck. She was cavorting with Maxim de Berny, who was mumbling words of endearment to his Lady Evergreen whenever his mouth was not busy searching for her little clitoris.

He had just aroused a tremendous orgasm in his paramour and was coming up for air, when Evergreen's mask slipped and, utterly flabbergasted, Maxim recognized her. “My dearest Lady… you… you…”

“Oh, my God! Yes, it's me! That stupid mask was smothering me. I do hope that you will not use your knowledge to compromise me.”

“Me? Compromise you! What do you take me for? But let me tell you that women sure have a knack for making things complicated. I have longed for you ever since that night…” here he stopped, because he did not want to bring up certain things which Florentine might want to forget.

“It would have been so much easier to protect you without all these sphinx secrets,” he continued.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn't that easy to understand?”

“No, not unless you explain yourself.”