Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

Once he surprised a look in her eye that would have been an obvious invitation from an older or less highly placed female. With Belinda he wasn't so sure.

On the pretext of stretching his long legs, he moved his knee against hers, and left it there. For a moment she didn't move, and then he felt an answering pressure. Damn! Niece or no niece, if this was what she wanted, she would get it. Of course, it might well be nothing more than flirtation, promising everything, and delivering nothing but injured innocence and haughty words.

Robert had noticed, to his amusement, these small exchanges. He was not adverse to having Belinda bed down with his friend-she had done so with many another he thought a bloody ass; John, at least, was a man-but he knew there would be difficulties. John, like most men, would not be all that adverse to tupping the niece of his best friend, but he would certainly be adverse to being found out. To be given free permission would be quite against his sense of fitness, and it would be no better if Robert were to tell him that he, himself, made free with his ward's many charms. John would only be shocked the more so that, if she were indeed Robert's bedmate, he would hand her to a friend. Men were supposed to be jealous, and that was that.

Ah well, he should speak to his stable grooms anyway. It was a long ride to Bethnal Green, and he wanted to be sure they had good mounts. The road was much too bogged down for the coach, and at any rate the damned contrivance was too slow and too uncomfortable. He stood up.

“I must see to our plans for tomorrow. I shan't be long, John. In the meantime, my home is yours. Make yourself free of it.” He turned to Belinda. “Entertain our guest, won't you, my love? I doubt you have much in common, but perhaps you'll find some subject that will keep you from boring each other.”

Belinda caught the laughter in his voice and as she looked up he threw her the smallest wink. Smiling prettily, she stuck out her tongue at him, taking care that the captain didn't see.

“I'm sure we shall stay amused, uncle. No need to hurry back. If you're passing the kitchen, though,” she added, “you could have someone bring more punch.”

Robert laughed heartily. “Hear that, Captain? Ah, such affection! She cares more for the absence of the punch than she does for the absence of her old uncle.”

He walked away and Belinda turned back to Captain Fothering.

“I'm afraid you'll have to make do with my company. I expect Uncle was right; I shall certainly bore you.”

John protested vehemently. The sun had turned Belinda's skin a soft honey color, and her light frock was cut to reveal bare shoulders and a great rise of warm breast. She leaned forward to replenish John's glass and he felt her press that soft bosom against his arm. His fingers itched to surround the fat globe of her breast, and as he thought of the feel of her velvet skin under his toughened hand, he could feel his cock fill and stretch against his britches.

As they chatted, Belinda let her hand fall on his knee. Her fingers stroked lightly up his thigh, and the bulge in his pants grew harder, pushing painfully. The softly parted mouth, the wanting eyes, left him in no more doubt as to the welcome his attentions would receive.

“Would you like to see the farm?” Belinda asked, rising. “We can walk in the woods, now. The grounds still a little damp, but it's all right if we stay on the path.”

John stood up, pulling his jacket tight to hide his indiscretion. He wanted to take her here and now- perhaps on the same swing she had been sleeping on-not wait, as he knew he must, for a more private time and place. Damn the conventions, any-way!

He looked down at her as they walked. She was so tiny, barely reaching the middle of his broad chest. They walked into the thick park wood, and when a turn in the path hid them safely from the house, he took her in his arms.

She lifted her face, and he pressed his mouth against hers. Their lips parted and he felt her tongue dart into his mouth. Hungrily he lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly to him as he kissed her neck, her satiny throat, the beautiful lulls that rose to temptingly from the neck of her dress. Her breathing was fast and deep, and she murmured in his ear.

“'Sblood, girl, I'd like to take you right here on the wet grass.” His cock was hard and burning; a painful knot of lust writhed in his belly.

Belinda's feet swayed free, but she was held tight and she rubbed herself against him, panting. She could feel the great size of his rigid cock and longed to have it driving up her dripping cunt.

“Do! Oh, God, Captain, take me. I burn so.”

Her passion aroused him even further, and he was shaking as he set her on her feet. He grinned ruefully.

“And a fine sight we'd make, back at the house. You with your back muddied and leaves in that beautiful hair, and me with my knees as black as a hop pickers.” He shook his head. “No, it wouldn't be quite the thing, would it?”

Belinda leaned against him. “I hardly care.”

Through the material of their clothing, John's cock pressed hard into her stomach. Lifting her again, he slid one hand under her skirt, and heard her cry out in desire as his fingers found the wet V between her thighs. He played with the curled hair that covered her outer lips, then pushed his fingers deep into her soaking hole. God damn society, honour and all other hell-made curbs to a man's need! Belinda panted in his arms, twisting frantically on his fingers as he brought her to a climax. As he felt her body grow limp beneath the steel of his arm, he damned her to hell along with everything else. Why the devil had she let him get this far when there was nothing they could do about it? Se had been eased a little, perhaps, but he was in such a condition that he was afraid the straining of his aching cock would burst his pant seams.

In a fury of frustration, he set her again on her feet. There was something he could do.

“If you think you're going to send me home like this, you're as mad as a dolphin.” He put his hand on her head and pushed, unloosening his pants till the giant cock burst free, jutting out like the figure head of a ship. He had learned a bit about ladies in the past year, and he knew that under the manners and coquetry they were little different from the whores and street girls he had known. At any rate, he was not about to play the gentleman now.

Still holding her head, he pushed his pulsing nob between her parted lips.

“Suck, woman!”

Belinda ran her tongue over the swollen organ that filled her mouth, and John gasped as she began to move her head up and down, the inside of her warm mouth pulling on his jerking flesh. He looked down, watching her dark head working over him. His balls tightened, heavy with sperm, and he tensed his thighs, bracing himself against the flood of passion that pounded through him. She held the base of his shaft in her small hand, teasing what would not fit into her drawing, sucking mouth.

John felt the coil within him swirl and break and a torrent of semen rushed up his penis, flooding out his nob and down her throat.

He leaned back against a tree to keep from falling, as she kissed the still firm head, and carefully rearranged his clothing. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her long and lingeringly.

“You splendid little animal. That will hold me for the moment, but tomorrow I shall find a way to have you properly.” He pushed her away gently, watching as she straightened her dress and hair. “In the meantime, my gorgeous doxy, stay well away from me, or I'll have you on your uncle's dining table.”

It was still dark when the three figures rode out from Hollybum, the Finch estate. The road was, indeed, a mire, and it was hard going even with the best of horses under them.