Woman in White Veil: A Victorian Romance

I'd just had the sexual experience of a lifetime and had ejaculated a quart and a half of semen all over a beautiful girl's face, but the sight of her naked shaved crotch had my emptied balls refilling, it seemed. I lay down between her legs and began scraping my tongue up and down on the sweet pulpy slabs of her labia. They were soaking wet already, and gaping wide, and if ever I regained an erection, which was highly likely, I wanted to penetrate those luscious folds. But for now I licked them, kissed them, stroked my tongue everywhere on those soft pink pads of tissue. And she began moaning with pleasure almost at once. Her hands came down to caress my head and pull me ever deeper into her gaping crotch. I probed deep inside her, licked everything I could find, till I finally touched the sweet swollen bud of her clitoris, and her entire body squirmed in rapture.

"This feel nice, Gwendolyn? You like what I'm doing?"

"I love it! It's heaven! Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Kiss me there! Lick me! Lick me!"

I did as she asked, concentrating now almost exclusively on her swollen clitoris. Her moans grew louder. Her belly began to quake and flutter, her thighs heaved in and out on either side of my head. She was pulling me so harshly onto her cunt I was having no small trouble breathing.

"Eat me! Yes, eat me!" she raved. Her whimpers and moans were growing so loud I was afraid she'd disturb our fellow guests.

I thought I'd experienced the ultimate bliss when I ejaculated all over her face, but the sheer delight of lying there licking and kissing and probing Gwendolyn's sweet wet cunt was almost equally rapturous. Her inner labia were peeled back, gaping wide open and secreting the sweetest fluid. I could have licked her all night, content to send her on wave after wave of erotic pleasure.

But her movements were growing more and more erratic, her whimpers and moans louder and louder. I thought at one point she was about to scream as I gave her swollen clitoris a series of rapid flicks and pokes. And then she was coming, heaving her body up off the bed onto my slobbering face and almost folding her gaping labia over my sucking mouth.

She gave off a kind of snarl, almost as though she was in pain, and as I withdrew my mouth for a second to gasp in some air her cunt began to spray my face with a series of spasmic jets of juice. Blast after blast of clear fluid sprayed my face, till I was drenched in the stuff. And still it continued, while her thighs pounded each side of my face and she gave out echoing sobs.

It seemed to go on for ages, and once I'd caught my breath I lowered my head and resumed the teasing of her spasming clit. I wanted to make sure I'd drawn every last ounce of climax out of her, drained her to the dregs, so to speak.

But she clutched at my hair with one hand, urged me up as if further contact was too much for her. She was unable to speak, but with a series of gestures and hand movements she drew me over to one side on the bed, rolled me flat on my back, at the same time kneeling up and scrambling down to a position between my legs.

I was delighted to see that I now had a massive erection, my second within half an hour, and she was clutching it, pumping it up and down, crawling her way up my body the while, doing her best to mount me. I gazed up into her flushed face, tried to ascertain her mood: was she not tired, was she not drained, was she not depleted by what had obviously been a stupendous orgasm?

All I saw was desperation, a deep need for more sex, for more cock, actually. She was in some kind of crazed state, half out of her mind with sex hunger. She was a wild woman, in another world. I felt privileged to be witnessing it.

She paused for a second astride my upper thighs, reared up to haul her night-dress up and over her head. And as she stretched to clear her head of the tangled garment and toss it aside, I gasped out loud at the awesome beauty of her body.

Her belly was flat and pulsing, her rib-cage taut. Her breasts, large, full, heavy mounds with stiff, nut-brown nipples, separated as she stretched, heaved apart like two rare, glorious globes of fruit. I reached up to cup them as she dipped her head and clutched my erection tight. She had to crawl further up over me, spreading her legs wide as she did so. Then she was guiding my penis between the swollen slabs of her labia, pausing once again, and then sinking, sinking down on my granite erection with a deep sigh of satisfaction. I watched the damp lips of her cunt fold over my cock and suck it in inch by inch, until it was no longer visible. I was inside her all the way.

"Fuck, Roderick. Oh my sweet fuck," she gasped, leaning down over me, forcing me to let go her tits so they could mash onto my chest.

Her mouth opened and she kissed me deeply as she began a series of rhythmic humps on top of me. I was so glad I'd ejaculated once already that night, for I'm sure I would have spurted instantly otherwise. She began to fuck me with slow, sensuous movements, grinding her crotch up and down on my captured cock.

She broke off our kiss and reared back up, squatting on me now, bracing herself with hands on my shoulders. Her big tits heaved and rolled as she moved.

"I love fucking, Roderick," she said at last. "You've no idea how much I love fucking. I could dedicate my whole life to it."

I didn't doubt it. She was obviously a woman of deep sexual hunger. I only wondered how she'd managed to conceal this side of herself from us all year. We knew she was a free spirit, of course, a woman of the world, but this ...?

"I think I may come again, Roderick. What do you think? Poor boy, I've soaked you once already."

"Do it again, Gwendolyn. Drown me if you want. Fuck my poor shattered brains out."

She sped up her movements, spearing herself again and again on my aching erection. Until she let out a deep sob and fell low over me once again, mashing her breasts onto my chest and planting her open mouth on mine. She was obviously coming. The rhythmic squelching sounds coming from our melded sex organs grew momentarily louder as she exuded more juice.

And I was coming too, spurting out my semen deep inside her as my balls disintegrated. The pleasure was intense, deeply, deeply satisfying. And I clung to her, drew her tight on top of me as the spastic humping of her hips continued and she forced out wad after wad of sizzling sperm from my trembling balls.

Such pleasure can never last long enough, of course, and in seconds she was slowing down, coming to rest on top of me, swirling her tongue around in my mouth as her pulpy labia continued to suck at my tingling cock.

"Spectacular, Roderick," she gasped at last, withdrawing her mouth from mine. "Glorious, spectacular sex. What an orgasm! What a fabulous climax!"

"Gwendolyn. Wonderful Gwendolyn," was all I could say. I had to agree with her. Never had I experienced such terrific, exhilarating sex.

We were both glistening with sweat and sticky juices, and I for one would have loved a warm bath, but we were too drained, too exhausted, and we lay tangled in our satiety till we both began drifting into a dreamless sleep.

It was in those dazed and glowing few minutes that the feeling momentarily returned that there was another presence in the room, and I even began to wonder if in fact someone, or something, had witnessed our intense love-making over the last hour. But I was too tired, too sated in the sexual afterglow, to worry about it too much. Clearly Gwendolyn was not overly concerned. She was already sleeping peacefully. So neither one of us caught sight of the Woman In White Veil that night, and if we had I wonder if we'd have been that interested. We had just experienced a real world of intense sexuality, and for now wanted part of no other.

The morning brought us another semblance of reality. It was barely light when Gwendolyn kissed me and slipped back into her long night-dress. She was gone almost before I could register the fact and I lay there in a blissful doze for another hour or so before rising and making some attempt to clean myself up.

After breakfast we all split up into small groups and explored the grounds, even though the steady downpour continued. Reggie and I couldn't tear ourselves away from Gwendolyn, of course, and under the enormous umbrellas Prof. Cliffhanger had lent us we wandered down to the cove where the waves cascaded steadily over the sharp, intimidating rocks.

It was while Reggie lagged behind for a few minutes examining some sea life that intrigued him in one of the many rock pools that Gwendolyn quietly asked me if I'd mind letting her have a little time alone with him.

"You find Reggie especially fascinating?" I teased, quietly pleased that she seemed to find him as endearing as I did.

"He's so shy, so reserved," she explained, "but obviously really intelligent and amusing once you get to know him. He seems very uncomfortable around me."

"Because of your beauty," I told her. "It's as simple as that. He's intimidated by your incredible loveliness."

"Oh Roderick, you're so nice. But I don't imagine you have quite the trouble Reggie

does with women."

"Well I'm not exactly fighting off the ladies, but I've had my moments. Not the least of which was last night. Reggie, however, as far as I can tell, has had very little success in that area."

"That's why I'd like some time alone with him. Do you mind? There's something so appealing about him."

I can't say I was overly pleased at having to leave Gwendolyn, but at the same time I was happy she'd had the same reaction to Reggie that I had. I thought some time alone with a stunning young woman like Gwendolyn could do him nothing but good. And so off I went, back up the cliff, leaving Reggie to chaperone Gwendolyn, or the other way round, back to the Hall.

I didn't see much of them for the rest of the afternoon, but over another splendid dinner I did notice that Reggie was absolutely flushed with pleasure. He was almost talkative as we savored the dishes and drank the wine, and I couldn't help but observe the occasional subtle smiles that passed between he and Gwendolyn. I confess I was rather jealous.

The rest of the evening, our last as Professor C.'s guests, was spent just like the previous one, in quiet conversation over wine and brandy, in front of an enormous roaring fire-place. We discussed the course we'd so enjoyed with Prof. C., and his coming retirement. We each spoke briefly, at his urging, about whatever plans we might have for the future. But as the evening wound down we of course wanted to know more about the Woman In White Veil. I think we were all a little disappointed that none of us had caught sight of her, though both Gwendolyn and I did mention the feeling we'd both had that there seemed to be another presence in our respective chambers.

"That sounds familiar," Prof. C. responded. "I haven't had many guests down here over the years, but some have mentioned similar feelings. Others have noticed nothing. I'm not sure what it depends on."

Gwendolyn and I glanced at each other. I suspect we were both thinking the same thing. If the Woman did in fact manifest herself, even by just a presence, an aura, maybe it was because she was curious about sexually active young people in this day and age, and what they might get up to. What Prof. C. said later, as the discussion continued, pretty much confirmed this supposition. He was prompted by a question from one of the heavy-set young ladies whose face was growing redder by the minute in the firelight, whether from the heat or from embarrassment, it's hard to say.

"Why would she spend all her after-life wandering around in her veil pining for a long-lost love? Doesn't she have better things to do?"

We all laughed.

"Her options are perhaps limited," Prof. C. grinned. "But you mustn't forget the times we live in. This is the Victorian era, a time of limited opportunities for women, and a time of profound repression for most of us. Opportunities to connect with the opposite sex are sometimes not the greatest."

"They're not?" Gwendolyn whispered to me.

"And once a special connection is made, it's often construed as for life. So the loss of such a connection could be deeply disturbing to a sensitive soul."

"So the Woman's assumption, and the general assumption of the age," Gwendolyn said out loud, "is that there's only one person in the world for each of us, and if that relationship fails, it's all over for life."

"Something like that. In terms of emotional involvement, and that much abused term 'being in love,' that is one of the commonest themes of all in male-female interaction throughout the ages, is it not? 'Twas ever so."

"What about sex, pure and simple?" Gwendolyn continued. "Sometimes love has very little if nothing to do with physical attraction. What about simply wanting to go to bed with someone?"

I had a sudden flashback to the previous night.

"There again, we live in the Victorian age. Sex between consenting adults has always occurred. But for a certain strata of society, to which our Woman In White Veil belonged, that was perhaps out of the question outside of marriage. Though we don't know the details of her relationship with her paramour, I suspect it wasn't consummated."

"So she spends eternity pining for someone she'll never see again," said the red-faced girl.

"Or spying on people who are more liberated," whispered Gwendolyn.

"Remember the age we live in, and the impossibility of real sexual contact for most people, especially women, outside of marriage. There are forms of birth-control, of course. The diaphragm is a wonderful invention. But what we need is perhaps some kind of pill, something to liberate us all. I'm sure one day such a thing will be invented, but we don't have it yet."

I had not discussed birth-control with Gwendolyn, typical male swine that I was, but I assumed a young woman of her appetites and experience was not one to overlook such a matter and had things well under control. Many's the male that has assumed such, or has cared less, and has had to face the music at some later date, of course, but I had absolute faith in the young lady I had had intercourse with. She was too intelligent, too worldly-wise, to be engaging in sexual congress without preventative measures.

As the evening wound down, and the brandy took effect, the theme of the conversation became clear even to a dolt like me. It was the contrast between a female like the Woman In White Veil, especially women of a certain class, and a young woman like Gwendolyn, the one pining away in after-life in what was probably virginal, self-pitying, aching anguish, and the other living a rich, fulfilling real life of intense sensual pleasure and liberation. I couldn't help but admire Gwendolyn all the more and think that perhaps she was way ahead of her time.

We all drifted up to our rooms eventually, with a great deal to think about as we prepared for bed. I myself of course was preparing for what I hoped was a final tryst with Gwendolyn, though we had made no formal arrangements. I waited till the house was very quiet, then ventured out into the hall, and began a silent creep down toward her room.

Which was not without its somewhat eerie and forbidding element. The Hall really did have its haunted aspect. The corridors were long and dark, with each chamber seemingly yards apart. There was a casement window at the end of this particular hall, and now the rain was finally easing off a hint of moonlight cast odd shadows about the place.

Some kind of shadowy movement down at the far end of the hall froze me in my tracks. I caught a hint of white, a night-dress, a gown? Surely not a veil! A definite feminine lilt to the motion. Then it was gone, absorbed into the shadows at the far end, or perhaps entered into one of the chambers.

My first reaction was to doubt that I'd seen anything at all. I'd had quite a lot to drink in the course of the evening. My mind was somewhat befogged. But I was suddenly right beside Gwendolyn's chamber door and so I tapped softly and blundered in, anxious to tell her what I'd seen and perhaps take advantage of her fright to climb into bed with her, just as she'd done with me the previous night.

A candle was glowing on her night-stand but her bed, with the covers peeled back, was empty. And suddenly I knew. Even in my fogged state I knew what I'd seen down at the end of the hall was no ghostly Woman In White Veil. For down at the end of the hall, I suddenly recalled, was Reggie's room. He had a visitor, and I knew who it was.

I stumbled out of Gwendolyn's bed chamber and ran smack into none other than Professor Cliffhanger. Clothed in a ludicrous old-fashioned night-shirt, he was carrying a candle which I jostled so hard I thought I might set his beard on fire.

"Good heavens, Roderick, what are you up to?" he gasped, partially recovering his balance. "Isn't that young Gwendolyn's room?"

"It is, sir. It is Gwendolyn's room."

"Then what, sir, are you doing entering it? Or is that a foolish question?"

"I might just as well ask you what you're doing lurking outside her door," I responded. "But then again, this is your house, isn't it?"

"It is, sir. It is. I was just making sure everyone was safe and sound. Quite a responsibility, you know, a house full of young people. And from the head of the stairs I thought I heard some comings and goings."

"Comings and goings?"

"Yes. And I thought I saw movement at the end of the hall."

"Oh no, sir, I'm sure you're mistaken."

"I may be in my late fifties, Roderick, but I'm far from senile. I need to investigate down the hall."

"Probably just someone using the facilities."

"Silence. Let's make sure."

There was nothing for it but to follow Prof. C. and his flickering candle down the hall till we were standing in front of Reggie's room. From inside came the unmistakable sounds of moaning.

"Great heavens, listen to that! Someone is in distress!" hissed Prof. C..

"Oh no sir, that can't be ..."

"Must investigate."

What was I going to do, physically restrain him? He gently eased open the door and stepped inside. I couldn't help but follow him. I have to confess, I was as curious as he was. Together we stood just inside the room, gazing toward the candle-lit bed. What we saw was basically what I'd expected.

Reggie was on his back on the bed in what looked like a state of extended bliss.

Straddling him, riding him, completely naked, was Gwendolyn, her big tits rising and falling as she moved. She glanced over at us as we entered, but did not pause in her steady motions.

"Roderick! Professor C.! How nice of you to drop in!" she grinned.

You had to admire the woman. She was absolutely unflappable. Anyone else caught in such a situation would be in deep shock, would be scrambling for her clothes in embarrassment and confusion. Gwendolyn took everything in stride, completely at ease. In fact, in command of the situation.

"Gwendolyn! Reggie! Is this cricket?" I gasped, almost laughing out loud at my own absurdity and the ludicrousness of the scene before us.

"No, Roderick, this isn't cricket, this is fucking," she laughed. "Please come in, you too Professor C.. Feel free to join us."

My jaw dropped, I'm sure. But Prof. C. was in an even deeper state of stupefaction. He stood rooted to the spot, a look of stunned disbelief combined with enthrallment on his grizzled face. What was even more noticeable, however, on closer examination, was the state of his night-shirt. It bulged out absurdly in front over what was obviously a massive erection.

"Professor C.," quoth Gwendolyn, "it appears you're ready for some fun and games. Come climb up in front of me and let me offer you some relief. You too, Roderick."