Marcus van Heller - The House of Borgia, book1

Gently he massaged it, feeling it thicken, harden in his fingers. Lucrezia began to squeal and jerked her head away from his and then back in little gusts of uncontrollable passion.

He caught the bud of flesh between two fingers and nipped it, drawing his fingers from its base up to the hard little point.

“Oh, papa! Oh, papa!” she squealed and thrust her tongue wildly into his mouth the way he'd instructed her.

The Cardinal, his face hot, perspiration beading on his almost bald pate, worked his fingers along the inside of the lips, easing them apart until he found the little hole nestling between them. He wormed his finger into it, pushing up through the tight, moist flesh which was as wet and smooth as sealskin. Lucrezia jerked and pressed her thighs tightly over his hand, hindering his progress. He felt the warm flesh of her thighs bulging around his hand. Gently he tickled her vagina with his fingers and gradually she relaxed again and opened her legs.

He leaned up from her a little and looked at her. Her face was flushed, she didn't open her eyes, her lips were open, quivering every so often. He looked down at her body. The nightdress was up around her hips, revealing the delicious proportions of her thighs, the soft bulges of skin between her legs, the little area of down at her thigh junction. The top part of her body was still covered. The hillocks of her breasts heaved in shapely unrest beneath the white material. Swiftly he grabbed the shift with his free hand and pulled it right up, exposing first the full roundness of her little belly and her hips, and then the bulbous symmetry of her breasts above with their slim, pointed nipples.

“Oh, you beauty!” he exclaimed aloud. “You beauty!”.

He swooped down to her breasts. He kissed them, sucked the nipples, making her squirm with unbearable ecstasy. He ran his lips down over her ribs, her belly which yielded before the pressure. He covered her hips with hot, wet kisses, following the crease of her groin, licking the smooth, warm-tasting skin of her thighs.

“Oh, papa! Oh, papa!” She seemed incapable of saying anything but those two words as she wriggled her shoulders in the air and squirmed her hips and belly under his lips.

He took his fingers out of her vagina and moved his lips tantalizingly along the fleshy tops of her thighs.

“Oh, papa, I can't stand it!”

But she didn't close her legs and he thought — you'll have more than this to stand before I've finished, you lovely little minx.

Gently he pushed his hands under her buttocks. Oh, what delightful buttocks! They were tightened now, tense in his hands as she strained up toward his lips. He grasped a buttock in each hand and felt them, digging in his fingers, feeling them relax onto his palms, flood out in a sudden give of flesh all over his hands.

He gripped them, pushed her thighs wider with his bald head and licked the lips of her vagina.

She made noises of torment, as if she were gargling with water in her throat. He flicked his tongue into the aperture, which seemed to give way on all sides of his tongue. There was a taste of the inside of an oyster shell, soft and salty and indescribable.

The clitoris was there, seeming bigger to his tongue than to his fingers. He licked it, caught it in his lips and sucked it. She began to squirm even more, gripping his face between her thighs in convulsive spasms. Her breath passed through her lips in the form of a continuous groaning whimper. He hoped they would not disturb any of the household.

Her movements became more wild and uncontrolled and at this point he eased off and removed his mouth.

Reaching up he pulled her shift over her head. She stretched out her arms above her head and he slipped it over them and threw it on the floor. He got up from the bed quickly and began to slip out of his clothes. His penis still gave him cause for anxiety. When he came he wanted it to be right up in her.

Naked, with the warm air like a cool hand on his body, he turned back to the bed and saw her wide-open, anguished, desiring eyes.

His penis was sticking out like a pike. He was afraid she might run from the room at the sight of its size, but instead she fixed her fascinated gaze on it as if hypnotized.

He lay down on the bed beside her and kissed her neck.

“Oh, papa I'm frightened — it's so much bigger than Cesare's,” she whispered.

“Don't worry, my darling — you'll find that after the first shock you're a match for it.”

He ran his lips all around her neck and put his tongue in her ear until she shivered with the sensation and put her arms back around his neck.

For a few seconds he kneaded her clitoris again until she was moaning with pleasure, and then, his penis pounding as if it were a cannon discharging shot every few moments, he slithered onto her body.

Oh, the delight of feeling that warm, soft flesh meet his at so many points at once! It was as if she were gently kissing him all over. Oh, the joy of having that lovely body, that other personality waiting to submit to him, to join with him in an orgy of heart-pounding pleasure!

For several seconds Cardinal Roderigo just lay on his daughter, rubbing his fat penis on her fleshy lower belly, grating his hairy chest against the smooth silk of her breasts, moistening her lips with his tongue, licking her closed eyelids, stroking her golden plaits as he worked his loins into an unendurable state of dynamic tension.

“Lucrezia, my sweet darling,” he whispered. “Now I am going to give you real delight.”

In answer she gripped him with her slim arms and hugged him tight, murmuring simply, “Oh, papa, papa!”

Cardinal Roderigo slipped his hand down between their bodies, rough hair of his on one side, glossy, white flesh of hers on the other. He felt his penis, swollen and hot as the summer sun; he went beyond it and his hand was engulfed in a shallows of sticky moisture from the vagina. He found the vagina and moved his prick down for the entry.

Lucrezia's arms tightened around him in frightened anticipation, her legs hung limply apart.

“Now, my darling,” he muttered.

The hot, wet knob of his cudgel slipped on the moisture of her thighs, encountered — deliciously cool — the soft, giving wetness of her vaginal lips and then, with a gasp from them both, moved into the opening of her aperture.

Inside his breast was a sudden rush of relief as he felt his knob clasped in that soft, soothing embrace. Inside his head, he thought, Oh, at last. Thank God, thank God!

In the liquid clasp he thrust smoothly forward to a tighter region and Lucrezia uttered a stifled scream and jerked her hips backwards. But he followed them with his loins and jogged gently on her, probing in on farther, moving his prick in and out just an inch or so while she became accustomed to the pressure.

Gradually she relaxed and her thighs went limp again on either side of his hips. He put his hands under his chest, between their bodies and squeezed her breasts hard and she drew in her breath with a swoosh, and wriggled invitingly down in the region where his hot organ was waiting to advance.

He flexed his hips in a little more and Lucrezia gasped and drew back again.

“Oh, papa, papa,” she moaned. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“We'll go gently, my baby,” he breathed. “We have plenty of time. Soon it won't hurt you.”

After a second or two she untensed again and he screwed his loins in little circular motions on hers, pushing his penis no farther into her passage.

He turned her face which was pressing, sideways, into the bed, and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, licking the corners of her lips until she responded and thrust her own little tongue at his.

He screwed her gently, so gently, moving in a fraction of a centimeter at a time. Every time he moved in she tensed and he moved farther for a while.