Bawdy Tales Pt. 04 - The Widow's Story

Nicolo fucked me very gently that afternoon — he was I learned later, a consummate lover — although on later occasions he would be much more vigorous, almost frenzied in his passion. Nothing in my former life had prepared me for the wonder and beauty of my climax when it came. My feelings were beyond description, and words such as ecstasy and rapture are totally inadequate to express the joy that overcame me. I truly felt that I had entered another world, although with part of my mind I was aware of the music of the fountain outside the window, and the earthier sound of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt. At the height of my passion I heard Nicolo grunt and groan, and his cock swell and jerk as he emptied his hot seed deep into my womb.

Nicolo collapsed on top of me, and we lay like that for many minutes, both lost in the bliss of our loving. When his flaccid member finally slipped out of me I felt a keen sense of loss, as if I was somehow less than I had been for those moments in paradise. We lay for about an hour cuddled together naked upon the sheets, while Nicolo caressed my body gently, whispering words of love in a mixture of Italian and English. I was, he said, his sweetheart, his precious pearl and his princess.

That was the first of many afternoons when we made love in the darkness of his room, lit only by the golden shafts of sunlight through the slats of the shutters on the window. He did teach me many things as he had promised, and emptied himself into my mouth as well as my cunt. His seed was not unpleasant in taste, like smoke with a hint of rich spices, and the musky smell of his body was like a perfume to my senses.

Sadly, my aunt eventually recovered from her malady, and I was devastated to think that I must never see him again. But Nicolo found the solution — he was not a man who would let anything stand in the way of his desires, and as the second most powerful man in Genoa, few would dare to deny him. So it was that one afternoon two men carrying a curtained litter stopped at our door, and and one handed a small card to the footman to be given to my father.

Duke Nicolo d'Ardono cordially requests the company of Signorita Elizabeth Strenger to attend on his sister the Signora Rosina.

When he read the card my father gave me a questioning look, but he gave his assent, thinking perhaps that association with the Ardinis would be of great advantage to his business.

So my afternoons of delight continued, until the inevitable happened, and I discovered that I had missed two of my monthly bleeds. I concealed the fact of my condition for as long as possible, but eventually I had to confess to my father. He was extremely angry, and threatened to have me put away in a nunnery. Nicolo demanded a meeting with him however, and it was agreed that I should not be punished so harshly — I suppose that pressure was brought to bear on my father; Nicolo did control all the licences for the export of goods from the port of Genoa after all. It was also agreed that Nicolo would accept his responsibility, and our child would be brought up with his other children, and if it was a girl found a suitable husband when the time came.

I cried when my daughter was taken from my arms a few minutes after her birth, but I knew she would be far better provided for than if I had taken her back to England, where she would for ever be tainted with the curse of bastardy. My father found a husband for me from among the other English merchants in Genoa, a widow in his forties. Everything was explained to him, and no doubt money changed hands, but a few days after I had recovered from my confinement I was married in a small chapel in Genoa by the Ardino family's own priest.

I had to make my confession a few days before the ceremony, and in penance for my grave sins, my long hair was shorn — it grew back eventually of course, but it was never as lustrous as it had been, and it tuned white when I was only in my late thirties. Nicolo came to the wedding, and I thought that I could detect a tear in his eye when he saw what had been done to me.

My husband John was a kind man and he was always good to me, and I discovered the truth of Nicolo's assertion, because as far as I know he never strayed with the whores of the town where we lived, even during my confinements. We had three sons, two of whom were sent as agents by my husband in Brabant and Piedmont when they were of age. The third and youngest continued to live with us until his marriage, when he went to live somewhere in the south, Norwich I think. Whether any have survived the pestilence I know not, I can only say my Rosary and pray for their souls.

Although I never heard from Nicolo, I was sent word when my daughter would have been sixteen that she had been betrothed to the son of a family in the minor nobility, but that is the last I know of her. I pray for her daily too.

That is my story, my friends. I ask you not to judge me too harshly, for I have no regrets, and still remember my days in Genoa with fondness, though it seems to me now it must have been in a different life.