Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 08

I dared to break the pregnant pause following his sigh. "How did Glenda come to suck you?"

"It occurred the very same day. After I finished licking her to a very pleasant climax she reciprocated, licking and sucking as best she could. I merely warned her about the use of her teeth on me and she picked up on everything else."

"Fascinating," was my one and only comment. We had another brandy, and were joined by his lovely wife, Abigail Courtney Baring, whose quick, furtive glances at my crotch told me that very possibly Sir Baring had been neglecting her of late. I filed the thought away as a possible means of bestowing an appropriate punishment upon him in the near future; for both Glenda and his threat to bring me to financial ruin. But yet the man had great power . . . dare I provoke him further?

I decided to extract my revenge in a Machiavellian manner; and exercise political expediency above morality. I would accept everything he offered me. In return I would seduce his wife and perhaps introduce her to Dolly and some of her friends for an evening's entertainment.

I accepted a cigar and when it was finished, we made ready to retire for the evening.

***** The following day Sir Baring left early to attend a meeting at his bank. Following breakfast, Mrs. Baring inquired if I like to ride and I replied that I would love to accompany her.

It was a beautiful day for horseback riding. The crisp clean air was even quite warm in the summer sun that shone a clear blue sky. The birds were singing and even the squirrels were chirping happily. The world was wonderful in its peacefulness.

We rode our horses, my young reddish brown gelding and her black satin mare, up and down the gently rolling hills, climbing deeper into the forest.

"We own all this land," Mrs. Baring said, and when I nodded in agreement, it was the last we communicated for a while. We rode on each with our own thoughts. I can only remark on my own, which were concentrated on coveting her youthful body.

We passed by small ponds occasionally, not really lakes, most heavily bordered by thick woods. Finally we came to a lake with a beautiful grassy meadow on the side of a small hill overlooking the lake. There was a delightful sandy beach at the end of the meadow area and in the open; the sun warmed us up considerably. We sat down on a spread blanket by the beach, and I uncorked the wine and we enjoyed a light lunch of cheese and wine while the hobbled horses munched contentedly nearby.

There were a few small puffy clouds beginning to fill the sky, like drifting cotton balls. We engaged in a brief fun-filled conversation triggered by our looking up at them and trying to associate each cloud with something --- a dog or horse or something. It was relaxing, enjoyable and sometimes funny. Then Mrs. Baring surprised me by lying her head on my stomach like it was a pillow, with her blonde hair splayed across me, catching the midday sun.

"He doesn't love me," she said matter-of-factly, after she'd settled herself.

"You know this for a fact?" I asked.

"He's ignored me for months."

"That's not possible," I said as though sloughing the matter aside, but I took a lock of her fair hair between my fingers and curled it around them.

"No, Mr. Fogg, it's quite true. I've broached the matter to him and he just evades giving me a proper answer. He is much keener of mind than I and can easily distract me or dissuade me. In fact, he has done so many times on other matters and I usually let the matter pass. But this time I cannot. I fear it is me."

She sat up and turned to face me. "Am I not fair to look upon?" she asked, beseeching me for the right answer.

I knew it must have hurt her deeply to have to ask such a question.

"Abigail," I said, using her first name for the very first time, "You are beautiful beyond words. Were you not spoken for, and the mother of two beautiful daughters, I'd ask for your hand myself."

My words served to melt any resistance that might have been in place, and she Moved swiftly into my arms as my mouth covered hers with a thousand kisses.

"Let's get out of these clothes and get more comfortable," I suggested when our lips finally parted.

Abigail favored me with a wide smile. "Comfort has nothing to do with what you want, Mr. Fogg."

"True enough, Abigail, true enough," I said, returning the smile with one of my own. "I might add that comfort is the furthest thing in my mind at the moment, so let's hurry about it, shall we?"

With that we set to undressing ourselves in record time. (I wonder about that expression. Has anyone ever timed it, and if so, under what conditions? But I digress.)

We lay down again and I kissed her again, moving my hand slowly over each of her lovely breasts. We began to kiss other parts of each other. Until I found myself tonguing her navel and realized that she was absently toying with my pubic hairs.

I looked back at her and Abigail's eyes met mine. Would you like me to lick you down here?" I inquired gently.

"I think it would thrill me no end," she replied.

"May I play with you as well?" She asked.

"Of course, my love, of course."

With as tender a touch as I'd ever felt before, she set to fondling my scrotum and testicles. Drawing circles around each rounded sac with the softest of fingertips, barely applying any pressure whatsoever. Occasionally she would lightly stroke my cock between her thumb and forefinger, but it seemed more absent-mindedly than conscientiously sexual. With an involuntarily certitude my cock began to respond and Abigail watched it intently as it grew.

My foreskin stretched back to reveal the mushroom shaped crown with a drop of precum clinging to the tip of it. Abigail stuck out her tongue and licked off the moist droplet. The sensation of her velvety tongue on my cockhead sent chills down my spine and my cock quickly stretched to its full length, pulling back the foreskin fully as it did so.

Abigail continued to run her fingers lightly up and down my cock, tracing the veins that stood out visibly now. I shivered as she traced the vein in my ball-sack then continued up the underside of my cock following the vein along my fleshy tube. Her gentle hand closed around my prick and squeezed.

"Do you like that?" She asked, knowing I did.

"Yes," I croaked.

"Shall I stroke you?"

"Please," I croaked once again and vowed to make her do the same when I started on her.

She smiled up at me, "I just like to watch your pretty thing grow. What do you call it?"

"It's my prick," I said softly.

"I call mine, my friend," she volunteered. I had never heard a cunt called that before and told her so.

"I could call it my cunt, or twat, or quim, or pussy. But they all sound somewhat offensive to me, and I really love my friend. So why insult it, especially when it can make me feel so effusively wonderful . . ."

And she moaned, for I had run my fingers over her inner lips, savoring the moistness found there, but carefully avoiding any form of penetration, for that would come in time. I kissed her kneecap and ran my hand over her calves marveling at their beauty.

That's nice," she sighed, and opening her mouth as wide as possible, took my member into her mouth and used her tongue to excite me even more. The mere sight of her sweet lips encased about my now unbending prick was pure beauty.

I was compelled to return the favor and maneuvered myself around and ducked my head twixt her dimpled thighs and let my tongue drag its way along the entire length of her inner lips to her arsehole and circled that several times until her muffled cries of erotic delight had subsided.

Using my fingers, I spread her folds apart and licked voraciously thereon, eliciting further muffled cries, more like screams this time and the sucking upon my prick increased tenfold.

Backing away from her gorgeous cunt, I took a moment to study it. Her lips, both inner and outer, were swollen, thick with her excitement. I utilized my thumbs and brought forth her clitoris from its hidden oasis, licking it lightly and this time Abigail shucked my prick from her mouth to cry out, "YES! THERE, THAT'S THE SPOT!"

I licked over her tiny nub several times, but knew that repeated licks would impart some discomfort and did not wish that at all. And so I took her outer lips between my teeth and chewed on them several times. She began to writhe, rolling her hips, arching her back so as to better present her cunt to me. I sent my tongue into her, tongue-fucking her for as long as I could maintain it, which was not that long at all.

Then I returned to her clitoris and sucked it into my mouth. Abigail shuddered twice and lay still.

"Are you quite all right?" I asked with concern, for this was most unusual to me.

"Yes," she answered. "I almost . . ."

"Almost what?"

"I almost reached that elusive . . . moment."

'My God,' I thought, 'this lovely woman has never orgasmed!'

I set to work to bring that most cherished moment about, resuming my oral ministrations, sending a finger into her opening and frigging her slowly at first, teasing her more than anything else.

"Spread your legs for me," I said, and cursed the fact that my voice cracked, making me sound like a young boy about his business for perhaps the very first time.

She laid back, her legs spread, her feet resting on their heels.

This time my fingers weren't teasing. One, then another, entered her, pushing deeply inside. At first I moved slowly, all the way out until just the bare tips of my fingers remained in her, then deeply in until I could go no further. Then I stopped and began kissing her again. Abigail's tongue was in my mouth as my fingers moved about in her cunt.

I could tell she was moving toward her release, for she pulled her mouth from mine and groaned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm finger fucking you my dear. Do you like it?"

"Like it," she hissed through tightly clenched teeth, "I love it!"

At that I began moving both my fingers and my tongue, playing inside her in two places.

"I'm going to make you come," I whispered to her. "Should I keep finger fucking you? Should I go on your clitoris? Do you want me to go hard or soft?"

"You . . . ask so many damn questions," she rasped, so low I hardly heard her speaking.

I went with the fingers and I went hard. I felt the first shudder and licked her clitoris. There was a violent thrust of her pelvis along with a loud moan and another shudder and she began to cry as her orgasm arrived. It seemed to last quite a while, then it occurred to me that this being her first, it might take some getting used to and I began to caress her flanks and felt another shudder.

A moment or so later, she was kissing me, wet, sloppy kisses that I shall always cherish, for they were the most sincere and honest kisses I have ever received.

"Would you like to fuck now, or shall we wait a little longer?" I asked.

"I can't explain just how wonderful I feel. Of course, let's fuck as you put it. Can you manage it, or shall I place it in there for you?"

Her remarks were most unusual, at least as far as I was concerned and later on I realized that Sir Baring had had his wife insert him into her opening each and every time they co-joined.

Now there was a clue as to his preference for young girls!

I had Abigail kneel on her knees and elbows so that I could enter her doggy style, a position I knew would be highly sensitive for both of us.

As I got down on my knees behind her I could see her swollen pussy lips protruding from between her spread legs and it was a beautiful sight. Leaning forward I gave it one more salacious lick and then put my prick at her opening and shoved inward.

My cock slid into her effortlessly and I soon buried myself inside her. I did not ignore her pendulous teats which were there for the shaking. I milked them all the while I thrust in and out of her. Abigail had several more orgasms as we fucked, but I did not halt my thrusting to let her savor them. And to some extent I regret it, but I felt it was my turn and so I chose to ignore her cries of lusty abandon as wave after wave swept over her.

It was not long before I came, and came hard! As my seed rushed out to coat her cunt we both gasped in ecstasy. We remained locked together as we slid down onto the blanket, exhausted, limbs entwined and fully sated.

We talked about it of course and many other things before Abigail gasped and cried out, "Phileas, look at the time!"

Hurriedly we gathered everything up, saddled the horses and returned to the Barings mansion. Fortunately, we had not been missed at all. Sir Baring would be another hour before arriving, and the girls who were preparing to leave to stay the night with their cousin thought nothing amiss, as their mother often went off on horseback rides, both along and with the occasional guest, of which I was one.