Madame Couer-Brulant - The Cousins,volume II

“Ooh, dear…” Michael sighed, “you make the decision terribly difficult.”

He took his place behind her, reaching to cup her dangling, firm breasts, luxuriating in the feel of her warm flesh and the friction of her enticing bottom against his belly. Arching himself, Michael went forward till the knob of his throbbing organ was clamped between the moist, soft lips of Julia's yawning pussy.

“Ooooh… it's nice this way… yes…” Julia panted.

“Exactly. Besides, this way I can feel the little nipples and kisses your tight little slit is going to give my weapon.” He drew out, playfully prodding the secretive little rosette of her asshole. Julia squirmed and glanced back, murmuring. “Do tell me, if you are going to do it to me that way. I have to prepare for that, darling. Put a little bit of saliva on your member and go into it with your finger first. That would help a good deal.”

“Another time, my love. I think for now that I'll be satisfied with your sweet tight cunt, provided you wriggle that lovely backside about. There!”

He inserted himself again, and this time with a violent shove of his loins, he was imbedded up to the hilt inside her. A stifled gasp of pleasure broke from the pillow in which Julia had burrowed her face. She contracted her buttocks, relaxed them, trying to synchronize her gyrations with his ins and outs. He could feel the moist, hot clinging of her flesh against his driving, turgid weapon. His thumbs rubbed her nipples till they were flint-hard peaks of pure erotic pleasure. Slowly and methodically he fucked her lovely, crouching naked beauty, glorying in the tightness of her narrow sheath as it absorbed his prick. She spread her thighs as far as she could, shoving back her bottom to meet his rhythmic attacks.

There was no thunder and lightning; no sheltering earthquake this time. Julia took her lover with wriggling hips and energetic thighs. Each time he sank into her up to the hilt he could feel the pulsations of her very womb. It took a long time to build up the tension in his loins, making it possible to probe her responsive, warm sheath. Finally, Julia fluted little cries, begging and urging him to drive her to the zenith of fulfillment. When he began to quicken his thrusts, he could feel her body churn and jerk as the orgasm exploded within her. It made him, too, come in an ecstatic release.

Suddenly, Michael felt a short stabbing pain in his shoulder, and when he grabbed, a child's dagger fell to the floor. A shadow rushed through the room.

“Who is there?” he called.

Julia lit the lamp, and they searched the room. They found nothing.

To call the servants and have them search the castle would have compromised both Julia and Michael. It could not have been a burglar, Michael thought, because this dagger belonged to a child. Who could have done such a thing? He shrugged off the whole thing and from then on he made sure that the door was firmly bolted.

But Julia had recognized the little dagger she had once given to Pedro to complete the Spanish costume he always wore in Sundays. She made up her mind to talk about it to the boy.

“Where is that little dagger I gave you? Did you lose it?”

“No, I didn't. You have it.”

“So it was you last night.”

“Yes.”

“And why did you do such a terrible thing? You must know that it was a terrible thing you did.”

“I have spent the last couple of days under your bed, and I don't want that man to do those things to you.”

“What man?”

“The painter! Michael Lompret. I don't want him to embrace you like that. You never let me do it that way!”

“That's all I needed! Listen here, young man, Michael Lompret wants to be to you like a father. He wants to take care of your upbringing and education, and if you want to throw away your future, you try one of those tricks again!”

“I hate him!”

“And I advise you to behave!” Julia and the boy looked at each other, eyes blazing.

Pedro said nothing, but from that day on he followed Michael like a shadow, pulling pranks and making a nuisance of himself, whenever he found a chance.

Julia had told him, of course, how she had found Claire and Pedro, and that she had plans for the children. Michael had agreed to take Pedro under his wing. But, one day, after he had found big gobs of lard in his boots, one of his paintings crisscrossed with a knife, and all his paints mixed together in one bucket, Michael decided that the time for firmness had finally come.

He calmly stepped down from his ladder, grabbed the boy by the scuff of his neck, pulled down the child's pants and, with the flat of his hand, painted Pedro's buttocks a deep purple. Then he carried the screaming, struggling boy to the front door, and dropped him unceremoniously in front of the smirking gardener. He closed the door and went back to work.

The gardener asked him with a sneer if he liked being thrashed by Michael as much as he liked it from Madame? White with fury, the boy ran to his room. And, when they called him that evening for dinner, Pedro was gone.

“Good riddance,” Michael said, when Julia told him, “that boy was a no-good source of endless irritation.”

“I hope he won't do anything desperate.”

“He won't. He'll go back to begging for a couple days, and then he will return. He knows a good thing when he sees one. Besides, as far as I am concerned, he can hang himself.”

Julia did not want a quarrel, but she was upset by this unexpected outburst. Pedro's name was no longer mentioned at La Bidouze. But-only Dorothy knew about this-Julia went to see the priest of the little village which belonged to her domain to discuss Pedro's problem at length. A few days later, she was discreetly informed that one of the foresters had found the boy in a cave, and that little Claire was bringing him his food. Julia told Michael that she had to leave for a couple of days to go to Digne, a nearby town, and, without Michael's knowledge, she put the boy in a Dominican College.

She told the abbot what little she knew of Pedro's background, wisely forgetting a few little details, and asked him to see to it that Pedro would get an excellent schooling.

“He is very unruly,” she told the abbot, “and, though I do not wish to use the rod on him, I think you should be very strict. I will pay for all his expenses and I hope that this gift for the school will meet with your approval.”

The abbot's eyes popped. The members of the de Corriero family had always been extremely generous to both College and Abbey, but this gift surpassed anything they had ever received.

“Madame can be assured that the boy will receive the best attention,” he said.

“When the boy has finished his final exams, I hope that one of your good Fathers will bring him to me.”

And so it was agreed. The gates of learning closed behind Pedro for a number of years.

The summer flew by on wings of love and the inhabitants of La Bidouze were surprised when they noticed one day that the swallows were gathering for their flight to the African shores.

“Already?”

“Yes, already. And it will soon be time to follow their example.”

“To Africa?”

“No silly… back to Paris.”

Once back in Paris, not a night went by that Julia did not squirm in Michael's hot embraces. But the artist did not love Julia for her body alone. Granted, it was one of the most beautiful and desirable bodies in all of Paris because mother nature had spent a lot of time and thought when she created this gorgeous woman.

However, Michael also wanted her to share his knowledge and feelings. He decided to introduce his love to the world of the mind.

That winter they traveled through Italy. The summer was spent at La Bidouze, and the next winter was spent in sunny Spain.