Mike & Karen Ch. 22

Just as well that she didn't intend to kiss him; she'd eaten all the Stinking Bishop cheese herself and even after brushing her teeth and using mouthwash, she doubted the aroma was gone, or would be before morning. She needed it to be gone by the time her meetings happened.

Wesley seemed to know he'd been a pillock all day and was determined to get the red out of his ledger, because his tongue was so deep inside his mistress that it felt like he was tickling her kidneys. She shivered and cooed lustily, pinching and tugging at her nipples and undulating against his face. She was already heading toward her third orgasm, and she was pretty much obligated at this point to fuck him and let him cum. The only question was whether she'd make him wear a condom.

No, it would ruin the moment.

Jenny seized up and bucked, her hips pressing off the mattress as she groaned through clenched teeth, cumming again. Her legs clamped around his head, forcing him up into a kneeling posture as she pushed hard against him. He held onto her hips, knowing to not stop, his tongue lashing her increasingly wet insides.

Jenny collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily, her normally pale skin flushed pink and shining with sweat. Wesley knelt up wearily, his hands on his thighs while he caught his breath. He didn't have long, though, before Jenny rolled herself onto her stomach and then got on her hands and knees. She reached under and used two fingers to pull her wet netherlips apart, exposing her inner pink to him. She looked behind herself at him.

"What are you waiting for, boy, an engraved invitation? Get a move on..."

The orders given, Wesley knew to not make her wait. He, more than anybody at Heatherly, except maybe Elowen, the ostler girl, was familiar with Jenny Penrose's libido. Even though she was apparently almost fifty (he never would have guessed), she had the sex drive of a depraved teenager. He took hold of her hips and planted the knob of his erect cock against her dripping entrance and she mewled in pleasure when he teased it up and down the opening.

"No messing about, Wes," she breathed, squirming back against him. "Just slam it home and see if you can make me scream and wake the neighbourhood..."

Wes found himself hoping she wouldn't actually do that, but he followed her instructions nonetheless. He pushed forward hard with his hips, driving his cock deep inside his mistress. Jenny grunted and keened at the welcome penetration, relieved to have a cock inside her. She began slamming herself back against Wesley, while he thrust forward, matching her rhythm. She'd taught him what she liked, and he was diligent in making it happen to the best of his ability.

Jenny panted and moaned, grinding herself on his cock, squeezing him with the vaginal contractions she was so expert at. She wanted to get one more orgasm out of the deal, and she would let him cum inside her. After that, it would be time for sleep. A shower in the morning before breakfast, and then on with the day.

Wes' cock touching a certain spot inside her broke her reverie and reminded her that she was actively fucking. She returned to pounding back on his tool, one hand reaching up and groping her breasts again. The fingers of the hand she was supporting herself on clenched the pillow at the head of the bed.

"Good, Wes, good..." she panted in a whisper, wet, warm pleasure blooming through her. "Yes, right there, love... ohhhhh, goodgoodgood..."

She wasn't trying to hold back, and she could feel that her swain was unlikely to last much longer. This suited her just fine, since she was craving another orgasm. She ground back hard, feeling Wesley grip her hips tight and arch his back, getting in as far as he could, letting out a whimper. Jenny's neck craned and she looked at the canopy above before closing her eyes, riding out this final moment...

Jenny's entire body blossomed in ecstasy, and she fought to contain the scream in her throat. Wes was gasping as he jerked behind her, and then she was being filled with his hot cum. Her pussy tightened like a vise around him, clenching fiendishly as it milked him greedily of his essence. This erotic twining lasted almost half a minute before Jenny sighed contentedly and sank down onto the bed, her mind still scintillating with bliss.

Slowly, she rolled over onto her back, noticing that Wes was still kneeling where he'd been, and was back between her legs, rubbing at his face wearily. A quick glance down indicated that he was still hard, the top still oozing and threatening to make a sticky mess of the bed. She smiled and beckoned him down to her.

Wesley gingerly lay down on top of his mistress and felt her reach between them and find his still-hard cock, slipping it back into her waiting pussy. She sighed in pleasure and then wrapped her arms around his back, smiling up at him. He could think of only two times she'd ever kissed him, at least, as he would have imagined a lover's kiss, deeply, and with tongues snaking around one another. But both of those times, he'd fucked her good and hard, and she'd cum many times.

Tonight, he got an affectionate and rather motherly kiss on the nose, despite being deep inside her.

"Well now, that went some way toward making up for your obstreperous behaviour at dinner," she said finally. "You were quite the brat about the cheese, young man."

"I'm sorry, mum," he said rather lamely. "I'm not good about new foods."

"Consider yourself lucky that it's the Countess of Greymoor you're fucking rather than her younger sister, the Lady Chudleigh," Jenny said somewhat ominously. "Millie, poor girl, has a very spotty relationship with dairy, and if you had made her mad at dinner, she might have required you to sleep under the covers as penance."

Wesley swallowed. He'd met the countess' younger sister only once so far, the aforementioned Lady Chudleigh. She seemed nice enough, and he remembered that she was four years younger than his mistress, now in her mid-forties. She had dark hair, as opposed to the countess' blonde, but they shared the brown eyes. Whereas the countess' eyes were cheerful and often glinting with humour and mischief, the younger sister's were often resigned and serious.

So if she was gassy after eating cheese, Wes would need to remember to not piss her off. He wouldn't put it by the countess to loan him to her sister as punishment, if he was honest.

"So, young man," she said cheerfully, even while she kept his cock deep inside herself. "How do you plan to avail yourself of your free time tomorrow?"

"Haven't really thought about it, mum," he said, shrugging as much as he could, given that they were horizontal and superimposed, her legs wrapped around his thighs. "How long d'you think you'll be?"

"Ugh, it could be hours, on and off," she sighed, grimacing. "However, profits wait for no woman. Just keep your phone handy, and try to not fuck any local girls, in case I have a free moment."

"I'll... try not to, mum."

"That's my boy," she said sweetly, poking his nose and smiling. "Go turn out the lights and let us get some sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day in Tewkesbury."

Wesley pulled himself out of Jenny, and she moaned in pleasure. He walked awkwardly over to the lights and turned them off before wiggling to the bathroom to clean himself off. Many nights, she cleaned him herself, sucking their mingled cum off his cock, but clearly the countess was looking to sleep, and he had to see to his own needs in that regard.

The room was dark and she was turned onto her side already as he slipped into bed. He cuddled up, spooning her and putting his arms over hers, as was the habit on the nights he slept in her bed. Back in Heatherly, he was always up and out of her room and back in his own before her handmaid came to wake her. He wasn't sure exactly how poorly kept a secret his trysts with her were, but she clearly had no intention of making it too damned obvious.

Here, though, in Tewkesbury, a full two counties (three, if one included Bristol) away from her ancestral home, she seemed not to mind at all if he stayed with her the whole night. He'd half-expected to find himself on a fold-out couch in the corner or some such thing. But here he was, in a very comfortable bed, nestled into this gorgeous woman he was privileged (and paid) to fuck, and things didn't seem so bad.

He was looking forward to the rest of this trip.

***

Helgrum Hall, Nottinghamshire, March 1997...

"Mama!" the young boy exclaimed, rushing up to hug his mother as Jenny walked through the foyer, handing her coat to the waiting valet.

"Sammy, my little man!" Jenny exclaimed in delight as she swept him up into her arms and spun him around, laughing gaily. She hadn't been gone all that long, merely two weeks down to Heatherly to conduct some negotiations for her father, but it might as well have been two thousand years to her son. "My goodness, you've gotten so big since I left! What are you, two furlongs tall now? You feel like you weigh twenty stone!"

"No, mummy!" he cackled as she smothered him with kisses. "But I've been drinking my milk and eating my greens, so I'll be big and strong for you."

"Ooh, goodness," Jenny said, bouncing him up and down in her arms. "Soon you'll be protecting me from the dragons that try to eat my car when I'm driving."

"Go 'way, dragons!" Samuel yelled, waving his little fist at the door, and the dragons doubtlessly waiting outside. "My mama, not yours!"

"Just remember to share, Sammy," his father said as he entered the foyer, carrying Annabelle, Samuel's twin sister. "If I have to share your mother with the world, you do too."

"There's my little lovey-belle!" Jenny cooed as she put down Sammy and took her daughter in her arms, hugging her tight. Annabelle was much quieter than her brother, but nobody could bring out her spunky side like Jenny. "How's my angel?"

"I missed you, mama," Annabelle said, kissing her mother's cheek before squirming down out of Jenny's arms. "Look, I can curtsy like a lady now."

She demonstrated and Jenny returned the gesture with her typical grace before hugging her husband and giving him a loving kiss. "Mmmm, how I've missed you all."

"How are your parents?" James asked, taking her arm and walking her back toward their favourite study, each of them holding a child by their outer hand. "I'm sorry the kids and I could not come with you, but I was needed-"

"Tosh, Jim, your work at the hospital is more important than paying obeisance to my cranky old goat of a father," Jenny chided. "But for the record, they are well. Mother says hello, and she misses you all."

James shrugged. "We could go down to Heatherly for Victoria Day," he suggested. "Fireworks and carrot-crunching rhotacisms for all."

She giggled. "Papa's been on a kick recently drinking a local beer from Ilfracombe, and I have had simply too much of it for my liking. A proper Midlands stout is what I crave."

"Aiden," James called to a nearby attendant. "Bring some Magpie stouts to the east study, please. And two Tizers for the little folk."

The young man named Aiden nodded and hurried off to accomplish his task.

"James, you know I don't approve of Sammy and Annabelle having sugary drinks," Jenny said, trying and failing to sound stern. "At least, not until they are old enough to mix them into a proper beverage."

"Only fifteen years to go, then," he said cheerfully as they made their way toward the study. Their children had reached the hyper stage of their mother's return, and were running around the room, laughing and showing off for her while Jenny and James settled into a loveseat, ignoring their antics. "What is a good trip, Jen?"

"Oh, you know papa, he's always testing me," Jenny replied, shrugging. "Making sure the expensive education I continue to receive in business and property management is not a waste. He had me conducting negotiations for some lots he's thinking of acquiring in Cornwall."

"I assume those went well, given that you were involved," he said.

"Even he couldn't be displeased with the outcome and was willing to overlook me missing portions of my new business courses, despite the fact that his summonses were the reasons I missed them at all," she pointed out. "He is as impossible as ever, is the Earl Greymoor."

"At least he's not loopy like old Preston Blackwell," James mused. "Luckily the rest of those people are sane, because apparently Lord Hastings has gone quite potty."

"I knew a girl from the Blackwell family when I was going to prep school in Canada," Jenny said.

"Really," James said, smirking. "What did you make of her?"

Jenny thought about her answer. "She was... it's hard to know what to say, to be honest. She was frighteningly intelligent, possibly the smartest person I'll ever meet. Even when you got to know her, you didn't know what to make of her all the time. Very enigmatic."

"Why was she going to school in Canada?" he asked, while Sammy and Annabelle continued to rampage around the room.

"Oh, the senior Blackwell line emigrated to the colonies back in the middle of Vicky's reign," Jenny explained. "They relinquished the titles, which is how the current line took them over. The chance to make fortunes in the colonies meant more than stuffy titles, seemingly. No, this girl was Canadian."

James considered. "I wonder if she ever met Lord Hastings."

"Now that you mention it..." Jenny laughed, recalling.

***

Blackwell Manor, Toronto, September 1983...

"NAAAAHHHH!!!" shouted a voice from somewhere inside the manor, followed by the crash of something expensive-sounding. "WHERE IS HE?!"

Karen looked up from her book as she sat on the floor of the study, frowning at the ceiling. Several of the young girls with her jumped in fright. Jenny seemed unconcerned, just merely curious.

"Kar, what was that noise?" Colleen squeaked in fright, huddling into her study partner, Alison, who also seemed unnerved.

"That, ladies, is Marquess Preston Blackwell, the Lord of Hastings, relative of my family, here for a visit," the young bronze-haired girl said. She was only fourteen, but she was remarkably self-possessed, and Jenny was utterly enthralled with her. Thankfully, Ekaterina, or 'Kat', as Jenny was allowed to call her, seemed to feel the same way about the blonde English girl. They were best of friends and loved each other very much.

"Why is he doing those things?" Alison asked, her study book clearly forgotten as she hugged Colleen to her. Several other girls were also looking very frightened, huddling close as if for protection. It was like watching orangutans, huddling together, meeping in fright.

"One can only guess," Karen sighed, shaking her head. Near the back of the study, her mother, Miranda Gordon, sat in a comfy chair, reading unconcernedly and seeming unfazed by all the racket. Nearby her, Jordan, the Manor's seneschal, sat quietly, looking around curiously at the sounds. Jenny adored Miranda, she was so much more fun than her own mother, Sarah Rackham. "He certainly makes a racket, doesn't he?"

Seconds later, Karen father, Jonathon Blackwell, patriarch of the elder line of the family, slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself, bowing his head and sighing. He finally looked up, seeing all the young girls from his daughter's school, sitting on the floor and staring at him. There were twelve of them, here on a field trip to nearby historical sites, and using the Manor for the weekend.

So, of course, Lord Hastings had chosen this particular week to visit the colonies and see what his extended family was up to. The problem was, he was crazy.

"Father," Karen said, standing up as he walked into the room and sat down wearily into a chair. She pointed at the door. "Why must Lord Blackwell be here? What a racket. Thundering around, bellowing like a mastodon with a hernia."

Both Jenny and Miranda stifled snickers. Even at the tender age of fourteen, Kat had a wonderful turn of phrase.

"He arrived unannounced, kitten," Jonathon replied, rubbing at his face. For Kat's father to show exasperation, he must have been really stressed out, Jenny thought. She'd met him several times before, and he was always a model of composure. "And he is the Marquess of Hastings, I couldn't very well turn him away."

"What is he even shrieking about?" Karen pressed, clearly irked about this disruption.

"Kitten, I'm not even entirely sure," Jonathon replied. "But he seems to think that Ashton Blackwell is hiding somewhere in the house and is determined to find him and have it out with him. He's carrying and waving around a cricket bat."

As if to emphasize his statement, another smash could be heard from somewhere. Jonathon winced. That crash sounded very Tang Dynasty.

Karen frowned again. "Ashton Blackwell has been dead for over two hundred years, father."

"Sounds like someone is on their way to the giggle factory," Jenny added, causing several girls to snicker, whereas Kat and her father just turned their heads in unison and looked at her. She cleared her throat and stopped talking.

"This is unacceptable, father," Karen declared, narrowing her eyes at the door. "The girls and I have work to do, and-"

"HA!!!" Lord Hastings shouted as the door to the study burst open and he came in, waving the aforementioned short-handled cricket bat around. Several girls shrieked in fright, scrambling back toward Miranda while Jonathon just groaned in despair, hanging his head. Jenny stayed still, determined to not move, while Karen stood defiantly nearby.

"DAMNATION BLACKWELL, WHERE IS HE?!" raged the marquess, looking around angrily, flecks of spittle leaving his mouth as he shouted. "WHERE IS HE?"

"Who, my lord?" Jonathon said wearily, standing again and turning to face his guest. He had a resigned look on his face. Jordan also stood dutifully, although he stayed near Miranda, which is what Jonathon would want him to do.

"DAMMIT, MAN, YOU KNOW WHO!" shouted Preston Blackwell, the Lord of Hastings. "I'M LOOKING FOR THAT COWARD ASHTON! HE HAS MY CARDS!"

"Your... cards..." Jonathon faltered, not sure what was happening.

"MY LUCKY CARD DECK!" spewed the marquess, going purple, his ash-blond hair sticking out from his head at spastic angles. "BY GOD, I'LL TAKE THIS PADDLE AND DRIVE IT-"

"As you can see, Lord Hastings, he is not in here," Jonathon said hastily, hoping to spare the children any unpleasant details the marquess may have been about to loudly impart. "Perhaps he is out in-"

"HE CANNOT LEAVE THE HOUSE, YOU DAMNED COLONIAL, HE'S A GHOST! NAHHH!" Lord Hastings continued to rant, still red of face. Behind him in the doorway, two attendants he'd brought with him were peering in, hoping to not be noticed by their lord. They looked frightened.

Hastings pointed a trembling finger at Jonathon, his blue eyes flashing. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS, BLACKWELL, OR SO HELP ME, I'LL-"

"Lord Hastings!" Karen said angrily, stomping up to the marquess and grabbing the cricket bat out of his hand. Before he could register what had happened, she spun around and swatted him across the seat of the pants with the face of the bat, hard. There was a very audible slap! sound, like treated willow wood impacting tweed. The marquess stood up, going rigid, letting out a grunt, followed by a squeak, his eyes wide.

Everyone stared at Karen in astonishment. Even the servants outside. Had the young mistress really done that?

"Lord Hastings, that will be quite enough!" Karen said harshly, standing in front of him now and glaring up at him. Hastings was still standing still, his eyes wide, as if he didn't dare move.

Jenny watched on in utter amazement, her eyes shining in admiration. She'd never seen a marquess' ass get beaten before!