Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

Before going on to their permanent home at court, Robert and Belinda were to stay in London for a fortnight with some friends of Sir David's. This meant that, as they could not be together until they reached the privacy of their own apartments at court they would have to find other entertainments to take their mind off the enforced celibacy. This was difficult for Robert and even more so for the newly initiated little girl, but if diversions could be found anywhere, they could be found in London.

Sprawling, brawling, teeming with both the greatest men and the lowest dregs not only of England, but of every country in Europe, London was the hub of a dozen suburbs and the pounding heart of a busy, ambitious land. Trade was good, money was plentiful, and Londoners of every station lived life to the fullest. Late into the night the hawkers of shellfish, of sweetmeats and fruit, meatpies and posies, cajoled and pestered the passerby. If the streets were inclined to be choked with dust or bogged down with mud, they were lined with shops and warehouses containing all the luxuries a rapidly expanding world could offer. If they were none too safe after dark, they were certainly no worse than the thoroughfares of the other cities of Europe and if one ran the risk of being drenched by the contents of a chamber pot, unceremoniously emptied from one of the upper windows that overhung the pathways, he would also be the recipient of smiles and greetings thrown his way by the people he passed.

The markets were open almost round the clock and the taverns were never empty. Here, amid the inevitable brawls and squabbles could be found much wit, good conversation and even genius. The issues of the day were big ones, and never had they been more thoroughly discussed by the common folk. From beggar to Lord, first and foremost the Englishman was exactly that. His country's interests were his interests and anything that did her credit added to his own personal prestige as well. It was a time of fiery patriotism, and the great love of the English for their Tudor Queen grew and expanded until it encompassed the very air of the land itself.

Drake, the darling of all England and no less so of London, had come sailing home in the Golden Hind a month before Robert's arrival in the city. He had been away for three years and his return was triumphant. He had circumnavigated the world, sailing south to the Straits of Magellen. Blown further south still, he discovered that here the Atlantic and Pacific met in open water. Until then, it had been assumed that another continent lay directly below South America.

He had sailed north, raiding Spanish settlements along the coast of North America, then turned west, crossing the Pacific. On to India, Africa, and home again to England; the first Englishman ever to make such a voyage. He had returned with a huge cargo of spices and treasure, and been knighted by Elizabeth on the deck of his ship.

London, very much a port, was full of the stories brought back by Drake's seamen. Every second boy, from toddler to apprentice, dreamed of one day making a voyage to rival it; of perhaps sailing with Drake himself, or at least, of going to sea. Many of them did go, but none matched the exploits of the incomparable Sir Francis. Such was his popularity throughout the country, that it was said that he was to be the next mayor of Plymouth (which proved true the following year) and there was little doubt in many minds that he could have been Lord Mayor of London herself, had he so chosen.

Fairs, bear baiting, cock fights, and street minstrals provided constant entertainment. At The Theater rich and poor mingled to watch the steady stream of new plays, written and produced for their pleasure. True, the pit was open to the elements, but even when a heavy rain fell it might soak the garments, but could do little to dampen the spirits of the patrons watching the tragedies, the historical dramas, the comedies, paraded for their enjoyment. Plays, of course, were no new thing to England, but a permanent theater was. James Burbage had built the theater, the first in London, only two years earlier. It was octagonal, the stage jutting out from one of the eight sides, and had a closed gallery for the toffs, as well as the open pit. It was instantly popular, and was packed for every performance from the day it opened.

The sumptuous clothes of the circle in which she now found herself, the elaborate hairstyles, the colours, the richness and glow of life after the simplicity of the country, left Belinda in a state of awe. Although she greatly desired the fire of her uncle's thick body, time went quickly during their stay in London. Sir David went on to court a day ahead of them, and when they arrived their new home was in complete readiness. Robert smiled when he found that his room was next to Belinda's, actually joined by a connecting dressing room. Since it had been Sir David who personally made the arrangements, perhaps he was more aware than Robert had thought of his domestic relationship. Ah well, it would seem that, if he guessed, he didn't disapprove.

As he stood in the doorway of the so-very-convenient dressing room, Belinda came dashing through and fell into his arms, squeezing him to her.

“Oh uncle, it's beautiful, and we shall be all alone here. The servants' quarters are 'way at the other end of the house.”

Robert laughed, fondling the eager little body that squirmed against him.

“So you noticed that, did you? You're getting far too knowing.”

She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down.

“Kiss me, Uncle. I've missed you so.”

As his mouth touched the soft, moist lips, all the pent up passion of the past two weeks coursed through him and settled in a burning pool between his legs. Belinda probed the inside of his mouth with her darting tongue and Robert felt his cock surge with blood, forcing into her belly through their clothes. He had taken his pleasure more than once while in London, but it hadn't slaked his desire for the creature now quivering in his arms.

“Touch me, Uncle. I can't wait for you any longer!”

Still holding her, he reached down and pulled up her long skirt, catching it in one hand. With the other hand, he stroked the exposed belly, petting her thighs very lightly. Her flesh was moist and hot with desire, and the lust that grew in him was almost more than Robert could bear as he felt the satin skin beneath his hand. Belinda moaned and held his face down tight on hers, sucking hungrily on his dripping tongue. No longer able to keep away from the center of his desires, Robert pushed his fingers deep into her cunt, almost lifting her off the floor. It was as wet as a swamp, and clamped around his fingers like a vice. Belinda squirmed frantically as he prodded, and Robert knew that if he didn't get into her soon his swollen cock would burst the material of his pants. It pushed painfully against his clothing, and there was no denying such a need. It would be quick, he knew, but there was always tonight for more leisurely joy. Right now, all he wanted to do was fill that soaking hole with spurt after spurt of boiling come; shoot high into her belly till his aching balls were completely empty.

There was a low stool standing beside the bed, and Robert hooked it over with his foot.

“Stand up on this.”

As she stepped up onto the stool, putting her on a level with him, he started to undo his pants. She reached out and brushed his hands away.

“No. Let me. Oh, how I want it!”

She took the great prick out of its cage, and Robert groaned aloud as he felt the cool fingers encircle him. She whimpered with need, and squatting quickly, took the almost-purple head into her mouth. She sucked greedily, stroking his balls with her fingertips.

“My God, stop!” Robert gasped. “I won't be able to hold back.”