Marchwood Ch. 02: The Grand Tour

"Oh Signore, please remember I cannot have another bambino," urged Rosa. "Please would you like me to suck your cazzo."

"Do not fear, there is no risk of your getting with child with what I intend," replied Marchwood.

With that he seized the bottle of olive oil which Rosa had been adding to the dough and drizzled a generous amount down the crack of his cook's bum. Rosa squealed in protest and attempted to rise from her bending position, however, Marchwood gently but firmly pressed her back down.

"Now then Rosa, I have been meaning to do this for a long time and I think the day has come at last, are you ready?" he said.

With that he firmly pushed his index finger into the brown star of Rosa's anus. Sensing what was likely to come next Rosa squealed once more at the sensation of her bottom being invaded by his probing digit. Marchwood ignored her and simply applied a little more oil working it well into the tight crevice of her back passage.

"Oh Signore, I beg you not in my culo," begged Rosa becoming increasingly certain of her master's perverse intentions.

"Would you rather I used your figa then?" asked Marchwood.

"Oh no, I must not have any more bambini," insisted Rosa.

"Very well then I must have you culo today, I have been longing for this day. I think I have been more than generous in remunerating you it is only fair that you do your part my dear."

Giving Rosa no more time to remonstrate, Marchwood coated his rampant pole with some more olive oil and nosed it between her plump nether cheeks. Rosa knew what was coming next and braced herself for the sensation of being penetrated in the rear. With his cock in position Marchwood gave a lunge and to his surprise found that his organ slid into the cook's tight passage relatively easily. Rosa gave a soft moan as her sphincter stretched itself to accommodate the girth of her master's swollen member. Although she had resisted her master's attempts to sodomise her, she was no anal virgin and in the latter years of her marriage had often accommodated her late husband's demands for intercourse by allowing him access to her rear entrance.

As for Marchwood, he cared little whether Rosa was experienced or not in the joys of sodomy. Her arsehole felt tight enough around his throbbing cock and the prospect of plunging between those two delicious globes of flesh was simply too inviting. He began to slowly thrust in and out of his servant's rear orifice. Rosa gasped as she felt the familiar sensation of fullness in her bowels and began to feel subtle waves of pleasure running through her. Marchwood picked up his pace and began to bugger the cook in earnest. Rosa felt as if her back passage were on fire but at the same time she was becoming more and more aroused at the way her master had dominated her and taken control of her. Stealthily she reached between her legs and began to rub her clit in time to the thrusts she was receiving in her rear. Marchwood noted this with satisfaction, he was pleased Rosa was deriving some pleasure from their encounter as he took some pride in the fancy that he had never taken a woman entirely against her will. Rosa's rubbing of her cunt became increasingly frenzied while Marchwood's cock was plunging in and out of her well-oiled cylinder like a piston in a steam engine

"Sto arrivando!" cried Rosa as she announced her imminent climax and then her voice descended into inchoate cries of ecstasy as she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, her sphincter pulsing around Marchwood tool as he too exploded, pumping his hot semen into her.

In the following weeks the Roman winter turned to spring. The days began to lengthen and Marchwood found his artistic energy once more. He completed the painting of Donatella. Sadly she was not able to pose for him but the memory of her was sufficiently burned into his brain for him to reproduce her form faithfully enough and he was pleased with the result. He would have liked to send her the finished work as a gift but he sensed that her husband would not appreciate this gesture so it would remain part of his private collection.

Marchwood was surprised at Rosa's apparent conversion to the joys of sodomy and wondered whether this avenue of sexual delight was one that she had already explored in her earlier life. He took to painting and sketching her once more and after a sitting they would make love. More often than not she would lie on the chaise longue in the studio on her back with her knees against her chest while Marchwood gently penetrated her anally. On other days he would insist she bent over a chair while he buggered her more vigorously from behind. Occasionally he would sit in the large chair and allow Rosa to do the work, sitting on his lap with her back to him and lowering herself onto his rampant pole until his pulsating prick slid up the slick tube of her backside. Sometimes Rosa was too sore to take any more punishment of her tight aperture and she would simply suck him gently until he came, spending in between her soft lips as she gulped down his hot sticky semen. In turn he would pleasure her by licking her pussy and lathering her clit with his tongue, sometimes using the ivory Japanese dildo he had acquired from the Jew's shop to pleasure her vagina or her anus.

Part of Marchwood could have stayed in this existence permanently. He was far from the worries of running his estate, he felt no compulsion to attend the House of Lords and participate in its debates and his needs were adequately cared for. He had a woman who enjoyed the same corporal pleasures as himself and he enjoyed the simple rustic Italian food she cooked for him. Admittedly his social life was narrow but he dined occasionally with a few ex-patriate English friends and attended the theatre and the opera from time to time. However, he knew that he could not resist the call of duty for ever. His steward was writing increasingly urgent letters from England requesting him to return and attend to affairs on his estate. He had also promised his friend the Duke of Schwarzberg that he would visit him en route to England in order to admire the triptych he had helped to purchase in its new home. The weather was more favourable to travel, it was perhaps time to leave his Roman idyll behind and head for England.

When Marchwood announced to Rosa his intention to give up the house in Rome and make his way back to England she burst into tears.

"Oh signore, what will become of me and my bambini," she cried. "I love to work for you how will I ever find another employer like you."

Marchwood reassured her that he had found her another place with a most reputable English family who were desperately looking for a good cook. He also promised her six months wages in lieu of notice, which he could ill afford but which served to relieve his guilt. Finally he had established a small trust fund which would pay for her children to complete their education.

Rosa fell to her knees and kissed Marchwood's hands in relief, though she was genuinely sorry to see her master depart as she had grown to love him in a strange way. In gratitude Rosa unbuttoned her master's trousers and pulled out his cock and began to gently suck on its tip. Marchwood pulled her to her feet and kissed her tear stained face trying to reassure her once more that everything would go well for her. They eventually found themselves naked in Marchwood's great bed. Marchwood was preparing to penetrate Rosa's tight bottom hole for the last time when she pulled his prick towards her soft wet slit and encouraged him to push himself into her dripping hole for the first time ever. Although Marchwood was never one to pass up the opportunity to bugger a woman the prospect of making love to Rosa in the conventional fashion was too inviting and he pressed his swelling pole into her hairy snatch, delighting in the sweet sensations of her well oiled groove. He slowly thrust in and out of her building her pleasure up to one last tumultuous climax. Marchwood would have loved for once to have spent his seed freely in Rosa's womb but thought better of it. He did not want to have to pay for the upbringing of yet another bambino, besides Rosa had raised her knees up to her chest hugging them against her huge breasts and offering the tiny brown star nestling in its furrow of dark hair for him to bury his tool for the last time. Marchwood quickly thrust a saliva covered finger into her rectum and without further ado pressed his cock against her tight sphincter. With a sigh Rosa admitted him to her inner sanctum and, with a thrust, his manhood was buried deep in her bowels. He paused, mindful that this would be the last time he enjoyed the curvaceous pleasures of his cook turned mistress and then began to slowly sodomise the pneumatic Italian beauty. He enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of her tight tube massaging his prick for as long as possible until at last, with a rush of pleasure and great cry of satisfaction, he released his final liquid offering into her dark grotto.

The next day Marchwood travelling coach drew up outside his house newly cleaned and polished, the brasswork shining and a newly hired coachman immaculate in the Marchwood livery. Beppe handed the coachman the last few items of his masters luggage and was about to assist him to climb aboard when a wail came from up the street. Rosa was hurrying in his direction with all five bambini in tow.

Marchwood turned and waited for her to catch up. She insisted on each of the children kissing their benefactor and then herself embraced her employer kissing him again and again on the cheeks and then one final passionate kiss on the lips before Marchwood was forced to break away and bound into his coach. Beppe slammed the door and bounded up to sit beside the coachman and with a rumble of wheels on the cobbles the coach picked up speed down the street. Marchwood slumped in the corner of the leather seat and fought back the small tear which was forming, telling himself that this was for the best.

Chapter 8: Florence

A few days later and Marchwood found himself in the beautiful city of Florence. He intended only to stay for a few days to revisit the Duomo and one or two of the art galleries with perhaps time for a little painting and sketching. That morning he had had enough of viewing old masters and decided to undertake a little artwork of his own. He found a convenient position on one of the bridges and began a watercolour of the view of the River Po. He has almost completed his painting when he heard a voice behind him speaking in Italian but with an unmistakeably British accent.

"Tu sei più talentuosi se" said the woman behind him.

"Oh I am not that talented and please speak English," Marchwood replied. Turning to look into the pretty face of a youngish woman in her late twenties.

"Oh I do beg your pardon," the lady replied. "One does not see many English people in Florence at this time of year."

She introduced herself as Harriet Gale and explained that she was staying in Florence with her sister and brother-in-law. She inquired how long Marchwood would be staying and he explained that he planned to depart for Venice within the next two or three days.

"Oh Lord Marchwood I do implore you to come and have luncheon with us tomorrow. I am sure Mr and Mrs Forbes-Browne would love to make your acquaintance," she said.

Marchwood was at first hesitant but the young lady had such an attractive smile and was so insistent that he finally agreed to her invitation.

The next day he made his way to the Villa Santa Maria on the outskirts of the city a pleasant old house surrounded by gardens and olive trees and was admitted by a footman. Miss Gale hurried to greet him, wecloming him with the winning smile which had overcome all his reservations yesterday. She ushered him into the drawing room and he was introduced to Alfred Forbes-Browne, a tall and imposing bearded gentleman a little older than his sister in law. Forbes-Browne in his turn introduced him wife Constance who was perhaps two or three yesars older than her sister and of a rather more tall and slender build. She too was a most attractive lady, albeit possessing rather more reserved air than her vivacious younger sister.

After some discussion about Marchwood's travels to date and his future plans a servant announced that luncheon was served and they repaired to the dining room for a delicious meal accomapnied by delectable Italian wines. The conversation flowed easily and soon it was as if the four of them were old friends of long acquaintance.

"So how do you find your accommodation in Florence," asked Forbes-Browne.

"Oh tolerable dear chap," replied Marchwood, "it is really just a simple pensione."

"But that will not do," interjected Harriet. "Alfie, might Lord Marchwood not come and stay with us for the remainder of his visit to Florence, it is not as if we do not have enough room."

"Oh I could not possibly impose upon you," protested Marchwood.

"Nonsense my dear fellow, English visitors are always welcome here," insisted Forbes-Browne. "Now let us have no more argument. What say you that we send your manservant to your digs and get your things brought over here."

In the face of such persuasion from not only Forbes-Browne but also his delightful wife and sister-in-law Marchwood had little choice but to accede to their demands so the faithful Beppe was dispatched to collect his master's luggage.

That evening Marchwood dined with the family. Once again the Forbes-Browne's cook did them proud with an excellent selection of antipasti, a delicious pasta ai vongole, followed by chicken, a fine selection of Italian cheeses and tiramisu for dessert. Once again the conversation flowed easily and Marchwood soon felt he was part of this close-knit little family. Forbes-Browne was a most convivial host liberally topping up Marchwood glass with different local wines and encouraging him to try a little more of each dish.

Harriet Gale was delighted when she discovered that Marchwood was an art lover and insisted that she act as his guide round some of the fine galleries of the city. Mrs Forbe-Browne was a rather more reserved lady but Marchwood noted how she listened to conversation intently, occasionally interjecting a witty point or correcting her sister on a point of information. Constance Forbes-Browne was not what many men would pass as a beauty her hair was rather reddish and her pale skin possessed a scatter of freckles across her cheeks but as he looked across the table at her Marchwood was taken by her fine cheekbones and the green eyes which occasionally flashed at him catching his glance. As for Harriet she was somewhat plumper with large dark eyes and pearly white teeth, which she displayed whenever she gave a mischievous grin. She proved herself to be a spirited young women who mercilessly teased her brother-in-law suggesting an intimacy which Marchwood was only beginning to divine.

After the dessert had been cleared the ladies retired to the drawing room. Forbes-Browne offered Marchwood a cigar and then poured out the port. For a moment the two men regarded each other silently each puffing on his Havana.

"I have something to tell you in the greatest confidence my dear Lord Marchwood," said Forbes-Browne mysteriously.

"In that case you had better call me Tiberius," answered Marchwood.

"Very well, on condition that you address me as Alfred," he replied. "The thing is old man, although Connie is legally my wife I regard Harriet as in every respect equal to her in my affections. You must understand that the three of us are united in our espousal of the doctrine of free love, have you heard of it?"

"I have some familiarity with the concept," replied Marchwood.

"You must understand that in England our views meant we were cast out of polite society and, in consequence, we now face a pleasant kind of exile here in Italy."

"Sadly a new puritanism seems to have invaded our nation only encouraged by the high morals of our dear Queen," answered Marchwood.

"I can see that you too are a man of the world," Forbes-Browne continued taking a sip of his port. "So our menage a trois does not shock you too much?"

"My dear fellow the lady I employed as a cook has also been my mistress these last few months in Rome so who am I to judge," Marchwood replied with a laugh. "In addition I have just escaped from a very painful divorce in England in which my former wife, who incidentally was conducting an affair with her maid, cited a former housemaid as co-repondent in her petition based on my adultery."

"It is clear that the preliminary judgement which Harriet made of your character is not without foundation," said Forbes-Browne stroking his bushy beard. "In which case I hope what I am going to tell you next will not shock you."

Marchwood was all agog and urged his new friend to continue as he took a large puff on his cigar.

"Very well," Forbes-Browne went on, "the two ladies have just retired to their bedrooms and will shortly return to the drawing room attired in little but their negligees. Should you so desire we may join them shortly for an evening of mutual loving. Of course we would all entirely understand if you find this in any way discomforting or unplatable and we would still wish you to remain our guest under no obligation of any kind."

"I can perfectly understand your wish to share the affections of two such delightful ladies," Marchwood said. "But I am somewhat taken aback at your eagerness to share this joy with another gentleman. Do you have no notions of jealously in sharing not one but both of your wives with myself?"

"Oh absolutely not," exxlaimed Forbes-Browne. "The whole point of free love is that men and women do not own one another like property. Love is to be freely given to whoever we desire. Love is not a zero sum concept; if my wife or Harriet share there love with you it does not diminish their love for me rather, it simply augments the love in this world and that cannot be a bad thing."

Marchwood could not fail to admit the logic of his host's argument, besides which the prospect of the two scantily atired delectable ladies in the next room prevented him from presenting any further obstacles. A few minutes later having stubbed out their cigars and drained their port glasses the two gentlemen made their way into the drawing room.

Harriet and Constance were seated on the divan together sipping liqueurs when they entered and both arose with broad smiles.

"Ah Lord Marchwood," said Harriet, "we are so pleased you have decided to join us. I am sure you will find a most pleasurable conclusion to the evening."

To Marchwood's surprise Harriet leaned in towards him and kissed him full on the lips, holding the kiss for some seconds before she released him. She stepped back and Constance stepped forward and also kissed him, rather less forcefully but with a restrained passion which stirred something deep within him.

"Please take a seat," said Constance indicating the huge divan, "but first let me remove your jacket and make you more comfortable."

With that she slipped his tailcoat from his shoulders and Harriet gently led him to be seated and took a place beside him.

"Come and kiss me again," demanded Harriet and without further ado pulled him in toward her. Her lips wered plump and ruby red and when Marchwood's own met hers he felt as if his mouth was melting into hers. Their tongues swirled together in a vortex of passion. When they finally broke for air he could not be unaware that Harriet's negligee had fallen open, revelaing an exquisite pair of plump breasts and he fell upon one of these and devoured it for a few moments, delighting in suckling on her large coral nipples and mounding the soft white flesh in his hands.

Meanwhile Constance had seated herself on the floor at his feet and was gently caressing his calves under his trouser legs. As for Alfred, he had taken a seat directly opposite and seemed content to observe the whole proceedings with a wry grin on his face.