The Princess of Cleves #11

They came together, one shuddering mass of sticky, slick flesh. The men smothered Rosalind in the afterglow of their ardor, touching her and thinking of each other. She squirmed in their arms, hoping they would leave soon so the Duke could come and embrace her.

In a few minutes they left, and she washed herself as best she could in the basin. There was the sour smell of sweat on her skin, so she sprinkled herself with the fragrance of roses. With a shock she realized she had forgotten to put the handkerchief in the window, which she did with trembling fingers. She left only one candle lit, the one by her bed, and she drowsed while she waited for the Duke.

When a face appeared outside her window she almost shrieked. She doubted she would ever become accustomed to her lovers appearing from out of dark corners.

Outside in the hall, her husband and the Chevalier stirred, sensing her excitement. It had occurred the Chevalier that the Duke may be too sophisticated to sneak about the halls, and may climb in through the window. Seeing a dark shadow standing over Rosalind, he motioned the Prince over. They both held their breath, waiting for the man's face to be revealed in the flickering candlelight.

It was the Duke; they saw his features clearly as he bent down to take Rosalind's face in his hands, lifting it for a kiss. Her chemise fell from one shoulder, and the men moved closer to each other. It was strange, but they were more excited by that careless exposure than they were by the games they played with her. Her pale hands were playing in the Duke's hair, her arms reaching up to loop around his neck. The men outside trembled, and reached for one another's hands. She lay back on the bed and the Duke hovered over her, stroking her cheek, her neck, her collarbone.

He wanted to savor her. It was the dead of the night, the doors and windows were locked, and the Prince sleeping soundly. She would be his. He'd remove the trace, the memory, of the other men from her skin. His mouth pressed against her's, his tongue writhed inside her mouth. He drew her full lower lip between his teeth, and as he sucked on it she moaned. She pulled his jacket off, and he rested his weight on top of her. Her hands moved under his shirt, traveling up his spine to embrace his shoulders.

His sex was rock hard against her thigh. Her whole body moved beneath him. She reached down to touch him, but he pulled her hands away. "No touching me, not yet." Her hands caressed his face, and he turned his head to kiss them. She pulled up her skirt, one hand trailing up her thigh to nestle her fingers in her sex. "You can't touch yourself either. Wait my love, wait."

Rosalind frowned. She was drunk with love and wrapped him tight in her arms, pulling him down onto her chest. Gripping the back of his neck, she forced her tongue into his mouth as she rubbed her groin on him.

The Duke pulled back, gasping, trying to let his mind clear, trying to remember the plan he had made as crept to her room. He wanted to make her quiver and beg for him, but her soft lips were wet and hot on his throat. Gently she suckled and nipped at his skin, her warm breath sending shivers down his back.

He stood up, his heart in his mouth. He tore his clothes from his body, then he pulled off her chemise. Crouching at her feet, he kissed her calves, her thighs, his hands running up her legs to touch her hips. He pushed her knees apart, and rested with his face before her sex. There was an pungent, but not unpleasant smell, and the dark curls of her sex were glossy with moisture. She rocked her hips from side to side as he touched her.

The temptation was too great, he could not forbear taking her into his mouth. He had never tasted a woman after she had been with another man before. It was strange, but not unpleasant. Her lips were full and flushed pink. She gripped his hair and pressed his face into her as she undulated her torso. He ran his tongue up and down the crease between her thighs, pinching her little bud with his fingers. She almost climaxed, but that wasn't what he wanted.

He leapt on top of her and took her. There was no resistance as he slid himself into her. Her legs hooked around his waist as she arched her back. He could feel seed trickling from her sex as he moved in her. With his phallus, he would purge the Prince from her. Laying down over her, he buried his face in the nape of her neck, taking one of her hands in his. His other hand was working her nipple, rubbing it, massaging her breast. He was panting into her hair, but he couldn't let himself come.

"Roll over," he told her. At first she just blinked at him. "Roll over Rosalind." He touched her leg, and with his hands, he moved her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and began licking her anus. She bucked underneath him, and he held her buttocks. He thrust his fingers inside while stroking her bud. She pushed back, forcing his tongue into her asshole while she cried out. Her climax was violent, and as she trembled he stood up and thrust himself into her.

He gripped her hips and jerked her body back into him as he surged forward. Her head was turned to the side. He could hear her soft moaning. Her sex was loose, but as he tapped the back of her womb she grew tighter. Soon, she clenched him so hard it hurt. This time, they would come together. There was a pulsing on his sex, his jaw clenched at the pain. A wave washed over Rosalind, and the Duke grunted as he climaxed. Her sex fluttered on him and pleasure radiated over their bodies.

He collapsed onto her, his chest heaving. He pushed her damp hair away from her neck to lick the sweat that glistened on her skin. He lapped at her back, her spine, and soon felt himself firm again.

Resting on his back, he made Rosalind lay over him, her face nestled between his ankles. He did not enter her, but instead rubbed himself against her slick sex. The head of his phallus pulsed against her bud, her legs twitching. She scrambled to her knees to gain some leverage and writhed against him. He touched her anus, the opening between her lips. Placing a finger inside her, he could feel her whole groin flexing as he touched her. He was gripping her ass with one hand, moving it in circles, and grasping his head in the other, working his knuckle against her bud, when they both came

As the lovers rested from their labors, the men in the hall turned to one another and kissed. The Prince would try to withdraw, and the Chevalier would touch his hand. When the Chevalier tried to rise, the Prince pressed his head to Chevalier's knees, until they were in each other's arms again. Their eyes darted around, and the Chevalier pressed the Prince onto his belly. He worked his tongue into the Prince's anus, drooling as the Prince fluttered against his mouth. With a few quick thrusts he worked himself into the Prince, his arms wrapped his thin shoulders. They were quiet, their gaze always moving. A minute later and they parted, clinging to one another for a moment before they scuttled away, each to his bed.