Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

He reached down and pulled her upright. He slid his fingers down the heavy, pouting lips and rolled the rigid clitoris between his fingertips. She leaned against him, panting, and spread her legs wider. Robert could feel her rubbing hard against his hand and the slick moisture poured down her thighs like honey from a comb. He bent his knees slightly, and placed his dripping nob against the entrance to her vagina. Straightening up with a quick jerk, he rammed his throbbing joint right up to the hilt in her slick, fiery sheath.

“Ohhhhhh,” Belinda buried her face in his shoulder so that her cries would not be heard. It had been so long, that although she thought she had remembered exactly what that weapon felt like, the actuality was far greater than the dream. Heat rose from her stretched cunt like smoke from a fire of burning laves, filling her whole body with spasms of sensation.

Robert bent his knees again, this time moving up more slowly. He knew that if he wasn't careful, it would be finished almost before he had started. He slid his penis slowly up the full length of her hole, feeling the sides squeeze and suck his rock-hard shaft. Belinda rotated her hips in an almost circular movement, moving urgently under the hands that held her bare buttocks.

“Oh, Uncle, I can't wait. Hurry!” she gasped, moving faster and dipping her body to push his cock even deeper into her. Robert could feel the head of his great rod bang against her cervix with every thrust, but in his raging heat even this seemed hardly enough. He wanted to penetrate into her very womb; pound and drive and charge through her whole body till he came out again through her luscious little mouth. He moved quicker, unable to control it any longer.

“Hurry, Uncle. Hurry. I want you to come with me.”

Her desperate pleading was hardly necessary. Robert could feel the huge charge of semen racing up to his throbbing member, and was as powerless to stop or slow it down as he would have been to turn back a flood with a teacup.

“Now, 'Lindy! Oh, yes, yes! Now!”

He held her to him, forcing her hips down hard as the great flow shot out in a violent burst, filling her to overflowing.

Through her own thick haze of ecstasy, Belinda could feel the hot gush of sperm splash into her, and she clutched madly at her uncle as her own orgasm reached its glorious height.

For a moment they stood clinging to each other, getting back enough strength to move. Robert stepped back, separating them, and tilted her chin in his hand.

He grinned. “We'd better go down to dinner before one of the servants comes to announce it. They might not understand.”

Belinda let her skirts fall back into place with a quick shake of her head, she looked once again, the pretty but demure little niece. One would never guess that the voracious little minx was also the mistress.

“I don't know that I care,” she said archly.

“You haven't done anything to me for just ages and I was beginning to hate everybody.” She hugged him, rubbing her face against the soft wool of his jacket. “I was so happy just now, I wouldn't have cared if every silly servant in England had come in and seen us.”

Robert laughed, ruffling her hair. “You wouldn't even have known they were there, my passionate little love. But don't worry, you won't be neglected again. We'll see that that hot little body gets well used.”

Belinda minced away from him, looking back over her shoulder coquettishly.

“But what if you get sick or something? What if he wears out? You must be very old.”

“You little beast,” Robert roared with feigned indignation. “I'm young enough to handle your needs. And as for wearing it out, I wouldn't fear too much about that.”

“But if you're sick?”

What a little lecher the child was. Although she was teasing him, he knew, still some genuine concern had crept into her voice.

“Then we would have to find a substitute. Rex, perhaps? You haven't settled that little debt yet.”

She hid her face. This was the one subject he could bring up that always brought a blush. Putting his arm around her shoulder he walked toward the door.

“Come, Lindy. You're safe from Rex for the time being. You'll have quite enough to handle, taking care of me. But just remember that I haven't forgotten the poor beast.”

She pressed his hand against her face, once again the loving, completely trusting child.

“I do love it so, Uncle. It's just awful to have to do without and I'm not very good at what you showed me to do with my hands. Oh, it's nice and I like it, but it isn't the same-not even nearly.”

Robert cupped one high breast and squeezed gently. If it weren't for the servants and the necessity of keeping up appearances, he would have taken her again right then. His penis was already hard again, and he could feel the unscratchable itch spreading through his groin.

“Don't worry, child. You shall have all you can handle-and maybe more.”

Belinda looked up, blue eyes round and frank.

“Oh, no, Uncle. I could never, never have too much.”

Sir David Cassen was decidedly ill at ease. This was not a condition in which he often found himself, but the reason was grave enough. Lady Marion was missing, and missing in such a fashion, that it was extremely difficult to make too many inquiries.

Contacts were being established with a man in the French embassy that could prove invaluable. It was essential that Sir David would not be connected in anyway, and it was even dangerous for him to use Robert as a courier. He had debated every possibility with himself, but the contact was much too valuable to risk. The only person whose discretion could be relied upon completely was his wife. She had no really clear idea of just what or who he was working for, and asked no questions, but she had carried delicate messages before, and it seemed that she would have to again.

She had left the house three days ago, for London. She should have been back the night before, or at least that morning, but as the soft greys of twilight darkened into night she had still not appeared. Since they had told no one that she was going to London, she certainly wouldn't be staying with any of their friends there. Nor had she sent a messenger, which would have been the logical thing, had she been delayed in any normal way.

As he paced the floor of his massive study, Sir David's uneasiness increased. In as far as he was capable, and years of rigid control had tempered his nerve to fine steel, he was thoroughly worried. The two things dearest to his heart, his wife and his work, should never have come in contact. He now damned the necessity that had brought them together this time. If word leaked out of his work for Walsingham, his usefulness to that gentleman and to his country would be ended. On the other hand, if anything happened to Marion, he would raze all London in his grief and rage.

The servants had long been abed, and he was debating the possibility of sending Robert to London to make what inquiries he could, when he heard the French doors in the morning room open and close.

Walking quickly down the hall he pulled open the door to the cheerful little room and stepped inside.

The room was dark, but Sir David could hear soft breathing. Lighting a candle, he looked around, being careful to keep his back to the wall. At first he saw nothing. The French door still swung back and forth in the chill breeze, and for a moment Sir David thought that whoever had entered had slipped out again. Then he heard the breathing again and looking down saw his wife lying beside a chaise lounge, just to the right of the door. Her eyes were half closed, and she was dressed in some ragged garment that he had never seen before.

“Marion! My God, are you hurt?”