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by Julia Harringsford

This is a work of fiction. All characters are fiction.
Any resemblance to real people is coincidental.

Those offended by sexual imagery should not read this story.

This ASCII text version lacks some text formatting. If you
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mf, semi-public sex

I laughed at Lord Beaumont's paltry joke along with
the others, but I had never been so supremely bored in my
life. The only thing redeeming the evening was the sadistic
pleasure I took in the male glances following me about the
room. If only Andrew were here to see it. How we would
I flirted with them, of course. Just enough to cause
them to make an overture. As if they could ever out match a
certain captain in the Tenth Hussars.
His regiment would arrive tomorrow morning. Until
then, there was this dreadful party to finish. I would leave
as early as possible, but that wouldn't be for hours. At least
the supper dance would begin momentarily. I would put up
with these fools until two o'clock, but no longer.
"Will you do me the honour, Mrs Harringsford?"
asked Lord Beaumont.
And be subjected to your asinine conversation all
through supper? I think not!
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've promised the supper
dance to Lord Hastings." I gestured to the young man at my
side, knowing he would rescue me. Hastings wasn't too
much brighter than the others, but, as he was a close friend,
he was vastly preferable to Beaumont.
Hastings obligingly offered me his arm, and we
moved out onto the floor. As we waited for the rest of the
dancers to pair off and join the set, a familiar figure in a
captain's regimentals appeared in the doorway of the
ballroom. He was back early.
Andrew swung a brief glance around the room. He
saw me but, other than a brief nod from a distance, we could
exchanged no greeting. A seductive thrill ran through my
body, settling itself at that precise spot between my thighs.
His blonde hair was bleached nearly white by long hours
under the sun. His face was tanned by that same exposure.
His broad shoulder set off the regimentals as they were
meant to be seen. God, he was gorgeous.
The few girls that were not yet claimed for the
supper dance were immediately on him, like flies to honey.
I smiled. You're wasting your time, ladies.
Not only was Andrew drenched in sex appeal, but he
was rich, as well as a friend of the Prince of Wales. married or not, he could have any woman he wanted. That is, if he
was willing to deal with my reaction.
He chose one of the girls, seemingly at random, and
joined the set as the music began. As the motions of the
dance began, I tried to politely pay attention to Hastings
conversation, but my gaze keep wandering to Andrew as he
smiled benignly at his partner. The steps of the dance
showed off his long legs, enclosed in breeches that left little
to the imagination. My mind was willing to try, it seemed.
I continued to wish for the end of the evening, but for very
different reasons than before.
I had to be content with the end of the dance.
Hasting led me into the supper room and politely held the
chair as I sat. I smiled as I realized we would be sitting
across from Andrew and his partner. I flashed him a sweet
smile as he helped the girl into her seat and sat in the chair
directly across from me. His gaze flickered over me, not a
muscle in his face betraying him, but his eyes speaking
Our host had provided a veritable banquet to sustain
us until the early hours of the morning, but found myself
eating next to nothing. Andrew's sudden appearance had
distracted me from all else. I found myself irrationally
jealous of the meek little thing that was his supper partner.
Why should she be allowed to bask under Andrew's smiles
when I was banished to the other side of the table, ignored?
Suddenly feeling myself in the mood for revenge, I
silently slipped my right foot out of my shoe. Stretching my
leg, I began by letting my toes run lightly over Andrew's
ankle. He risked flashing me a quick smile, but
immediately turned back to his partner, who was trying
feebly to make a light joke.
Pushing my lower lip out in a slight pout, I allowed
my foot to run higher on Andrew's leg. He ignored me as I
caressed his calf, so I lifted my leg and let my toes run up
the inside of his thigh. His eyebrows rose in a flash of
shock, but he recovered, shooting me a scolding look.
Beneath the table, he seized my ankle gently and pushed my
foot back to the floor. I didn't protest.
I waited until he glanced back at me again, his eyes
wary. Then, snaking my leg out again, I slid my foot against
his other thigh, running it high enough to brush lightly over
the crotch of his breeches. Andrew's cheeks turned slightly
pink as I rubbed my toes over the growing bulge. They ran
in light circles around it until I could feel the fabric of his
breeches straining against his erection. His looks to me
were increasing, each one more pleading than the last. I
only bit my lip seductively and kept my foot moving, now
rubbing rhythmically against him. His body looked relaxed,
but I saw his knuckles were white where he clenched the
edge of the table. I gradually increased the tempo of my
ministrations, feeling myself growing slightly wet as I
thought of other things I wanted to do to him.
I didn't want him to climax, that is, not just yet, so I
gently pulled my foot away and lowered it to the floor,
slipping my shoe back on. He shot me a last look that
positively shouted, just wait until I get you home. I returned
it with a smile. I was looking forward to it.
When the supper broke up a few minutes later, I
immediately accepted Hastings' invitation to dance, wanting
to avoid Andrew for just a little while. I was beginning to
enjoy this little game and I didn't want it to end too soon.
The evening was finally growing interesting.
Just before Hastings and I took the floor, I was
struck with an idea. Excusing myself, I slipped into one of
the small alcoves hidden amongst the tapestries about the
room. I had worn a lace fichu this evening; it filled in the
low neckline of the dress I wore. With a quick flick of the
wrist, I pulled it loose and tucked it behind the sofa that was
in the small, dim enclosure. I quickly looked in the mirror,
which was the only other furniture in the alcove, and gave
the dress a few small tugs, pulling the bodice that fraction of
an inch lower. The dark green fabric set off my white skin
admirably. Fixing a couple of the reddish-gold curls that
tumbled over my neck, I returned to Lord Hastings and we
took the floor.
The dance was immensely enjoyable to me.
Hastings, on the other hand, looked vastly uncomfortable.
His gaze kept wandering to my neckline, where my breasts were exposed almost to the areolas. I nearly laughed; it was
obvious what was going through his mind, and even more
obvious that he felt guilty to think such things about the
wife of a friend. I shouldn't have been putting him through
this, but as I looked at Andrew, standing across the room,
his arms crossed tightly against his chest, I remembered it
was for a very good cause.
When the dance ended, Hastings wanted to lead me
into my husband protection, but I gently guided him back to
Beaumont and his friends. Once he had delivered me, he
sheepishly disappeared. My companions and I were quickly
provided with glasses of wine by a passing servant as we
continued to converse.
Lord Beaumont and his friends played their parts
well. As I laughed at their so-called wit and fluttered my
fan strategically, they nearly gaped at my chest. Sir
Frederick Willgates even dared to 'accidentally' bump my
shoulder, spilling a few drops of his wine onto my exposed
breasts. He immediately produced a handkerchief and
began to probe at the droplets. Imagining his hands were
Andrew's, I half-closed my eyes, letting my lips fall slightly
open. Sir Frederick continued to grope. I glanced at my
husband through my lashes. His face was dark, his mouth
set in a thin line. I brushed Sir Frederick's hand away.
Better not take this too far. If society might believe my
husband was being cuckolded, that was one thing, but it
wouldn't do for Andrew to suspect it himself.
The men around me were greatly encouraged by my
passivity at Sir Frederick's touch. The surreptitious looks
were replaced with blatant stares. Looking up to Lord
Beaumont, I saw his mouth twisting into a lustful smile. A
moment later, I felt a hand pat my bottom. Giving a curtsy,
I tried to excuse myself before the situation grew out of my
Lord Beaumont put a hand on my arm, foiling my
plans for escape. "Leaving us so soon, Mrs Harringsford?"
I realized belatedly that his lordship had been drinking,
probably heavily. His glance moved to take in his friends.
"I confess we had a hope of enjoying your charms for
the rest of the evening." His free hand brushed over my
abdomen, moving deliberately downward.
Stumbling back from his hand, I deliberately let my
hand tip the contents of my wine glass onto the front of his
waistcoat. "Oh, dear! Look what I've gone and done!
Perhaps I've had a bit too much champagne. I'd better find
a seat for a moment." With those words, and a quick
sidestep, I escaped.
Andrew was not where I had last seen him. Looking
around the room, I couldn't see him anywhere. My
heartbeat sped slightly, fearful my actions had offended him
and sent him home. spying the party's hostess, I resolved to
ask if Andrew had taken his leave.
As I hurried past the alcove I had entered earlier,
someone grabbed my arm and suddenly pulled me inside. I
tried cry out, but a hand closed over my mouth. The man pressed my back up against the wall of the alcove, facing
me. With a rush of relief, I recognised the glittering blue
He took his hand from my mouth, then tangled it
into my hair. "Hello, wife," he muttered, not releasing me.
"Hello, Andrew," I breathed.
For a long time, neither of us moved. Finally,
Andrew's free hand came up to touch my mouth, his thumb
rubbing lightly along my lower lip. Of its own volition, my
tongue moved to touch the pad of his thumb.
His hand moved to my neck, massaging it gently,
then his mouth descended to mine.
He kissed me lightly, his lips barely brushing against
mine, teasing me. I stroked my tongue over his lips, but the
motion only made him pull away, before returning again to
the soft strokes of his mouth.
"Andrew!" I moaned softly. Kiss me properly!
He responded to my silent command, his tongue
flooding my mouth with the taste of him. I slid my arms
around him, my hands drifting over the firm globes of his
backside as he pressed me tightly against the wall with his
hips. His tongue stroked slowly in and out of my mouth,
leaving me breathless. After a few endless moments, he
pulled his mouth away.
I was surprised to feel the cool air of the alcove on
my breasts. Glancing down, I saw the pretty mounds were
almost completely exposed. Andrew's fingers had been
busy. I tilted my head back with a sigh as his mouth moved
down my neck to nuzzle and lick at the exposed skin.
My arousal increasing, I slipped my hands between
us and began to stoke his erection through the thin fabric of
his breeches. With a low laugh, he caught my wrists, using
one hand to pin them both above my head.
He gently slipped his other hand into my dress,
lifting one breast completely free of the bodice. He held it
lightly in his palm for a moment, his thumb teasing the tip
into a hard little nub. Keeping my wrists captive, he
lowered his head. His lips closed over the brown circle, his
tongue probing against the taunt nipple, his suckling mouth
hot and wet against my skin.
"Oh!" I breathed.
At the wordless suggestion of his groping hand, I
moved my feet apart, allowing him to fondle my already
warm and moist sex through the silk dress. As he stroked a
finger over my entrance, I released an involuntary gasp.
Andrew mouth came away from my breast with a
small popping sound and he released my wrists. My knees
buckled a moment, but I manage to stay upright.
"I glad you're pleased to see me, wife," he
whispered, somehow making the last word unbelievably
erotic. "If only every man's homecoming could be so
I smiled. You want a welcome, do you?
All my mischievous instincts had awakened. Taking
Andrew's hand I led him to the sofa, stripping the bright
scarlet coat from his back, then made him sit. When I took
the cushion from the end of the sofa, he smirked. He knew
what was coming. Dropping the cushion at my feet, I knelt
between his legs. Smiling up at him, I reached out to cup
my hand over the bulge in his breeches. "Gentle or rough?"
"Rough," he answered, winking roguishly.
Rising slightly from my knees I laid a hand against
his cheek, joining our mouths in a deep kiss. Lowering
myself down again, I made quick work of the fastenings of
his breeches and pulled him out. The scent of aroused male,
of Andrew, wafted over me.
He was already fully erect, hard and warm against
my exploring fingers. A bit of moisture glistened on the tip.
Licking my lips in anticipation, I wrapped my fingers
around the base of his shaft. The beautiful organ extended
several inches beyond my small hand. Lowering my mouth
to him, I kissed the little drop of moisture, spreading the salt
taste over my lips. My free hand joined the other at the
base, stroking his testicles, as my lips opened and my tongue
slid over him. I ran my tongue all the way to the base and
slowly back up, then pulled away and blew a light breath
across the tip. I managed to repeat this process two or three
times before I felt Andrew's strong hands slide into my hair
and gently guide himself between my lips.
I couldn't take all of him inside, so my hand worked
in harmony to my mouth's slow rhythm, taking as much of
him in as I could, then slowly letting my lips and tongue slid
over the ribbed flesh to the tip, then back over him again.
His hands were still tangled in my hair, but passively. He
made no sound. I paused to look up and gauge his
enjoyment. For a moment, he only sat still, his eyes closed.
When he opened them, their blue colour was almost
invisible behind his pupils. "Don't stop now, Julia," he said
huskily. "Or are you waiting for someone to join us?"
Suddenly, I realized I could hear the buzz of
conversation and the clink of wine glasses just a few feet
away. My heartbeat sped as I glanced to the tapestry, the
only thing separating us from the crowded room. Eagerly, I
opened my mouth to take him back inside, but his hold
tightened on my hair.
"Oh, and you mustn't have heard me, m'dear. I
asked for it rough."
Amused by his tone, I went back down onto him.
My rhythm still teasingly slow, I now ran my teeth lightly
over the sensitive skin. My fingernails did the same to his
testicles and soon I was rewarded with a few suppressed
moans. Pleased, I began to increase the tempo of my mouth
and hand, still lightly grating at his skin. He whispered my
name, sending a flood of desire down to my own sex.
I felt the tension in his body growing as he continued
to moan softly. I stopped grating his skin and began to suck
hard at his tip, while my hand continued to stroke the base.
Soon, felt the telltale tightening and, a moment or two later,
he climaxed in my mouth. I eagerly swallowed his seed,
then continued the suction until he was spent.
He collapsed back on the sofa as I readily licked up
the few drops of seed I had somehow missed . Strangely
proud, I gently tucked the appendage back into his breeches
and fastened them shut. Leaning back on my heels, I smiled
up at him, amused by the blissful expression on his face.
"Welcome home, Andrew," I said demurely.
His hands, still tangled in my hair, pulled me up
from my knees. Given no other option, I settled onto his
lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"You are a remarkable woman, my little Julia."
He pulled my mouth to his and gave me a kiss, his
tongue veritably dancing in my mouth. Shivering, I felt his
hands return to my still exposed breasts, kneading and
stroking until I began to pant softly. It was all I could do to
keep my arms around his neck and avoid sliding off his lap.
One hand found its was under my skirt and slowly, with
feather-light touches, made its way up the inside of my leg.
The idea of Andrew's cool fingers on my hot, dripping sex
made me begin to squirm, trying to bring his hand closer.
He slid me gently off his lap, pushing me so my head
rested against the arm of the sofa. Slowly, so slowly, he
pushed the skirt of my dress up my legs, caressing every
inch as it was exposed, the ankles and calves through the
stockings, then on to the naked flesh of my knees and lower
thighs. I closed my eyes, longing for his explorations to
reach the moist and heated place that waited for him.
I felt his hands adjusting my skirt so it lay across my
midriff, then gently nudge one of my legs onto the floor and
hook the other ankle over the back of the sofa, exposing me
to the cool air of the alcove. His fingers resumed their
meandering journey up my thighs until he was tenderly
stroking the sensitive crease where my leg joined my sex. I
shifted my hips, trying to move his fingers that fraction of
an inch to where I wanted them. His hand shifted with me,
foiling my attempts.
"Yes, Julia?"
"Touch me, Andrew."
His fingers wandered back down my thigh. "I am,
my dear."
"No," I whispered. Grasping his wrist, I pressed his
hand softly against my heated desire. "Touch me, there."
I heard Andrew laugh, but he complied, slipping two
fingers inside me. Slowly drawing them in and out, he
posed the same question I had given him: "Gentle? Or
"Gentle," I breathed.
"You like to be troublesome, don't you?" he said
with mock anger. "Very well."
He stroked the soft folds of my sex a few more
times, then abruptly pulled his fingers away. Feeling
suddenly empty, my hips arched, trying to find him again, as
a whimper escaped from my throat. "Oh!"
"Shh, Julia," he whispered as his fingers stroked my
abdomen. "I would remind you that you find yourself in a
most compromising position right now. Best not to invite
His words brought another little thrill. The party-
goers on the other side of the tapestry had no idea of the
places Andrew was slowly taking me. Or did they? Had
anyone seen him pull me into the alcove? I glanced down,
smiling at the view I presented. My bodice was not even
attempting to cover my breasts. My skirt was rucked up
above my navel, my legs spread indecently wide, allowing
Andrew easy access to my sex. What a scene there would
be if someone entered the alcove unexpectedly! The idea
made me shiver.
Andrew laid a kiss just above the nest of reddish-
brown curls, then extended his tongue to touch my sex.
Slipping his hands beneath me, he cupped my buttocks to
lift my pelvis up to meet him. I managed suppress my
moans as he thoroughly licked me up and down, careful to
touch every little spot, then gently pushed his strong tongue
inside me, again and again, sending spirals of heated
pleasure through my loins. My hands clenched the sofa so
hard the muscles began to spasm. I did not cry out, despite
the nearly irresistible temptation. Even so, I felt my
laboured breathing and hammering heart were surely
audible to the party-goers.
Andrew eventually grew satisfied with his tongue's
violations, but he was not through with me yet. He began to
assault the sensitive nub just above my entrance. He licked
and stroked and flicked the tiny spot without mercy or
pause. With each movement, the heat built, until I was
gasping for air, unaware of everything but Andrew nimble
tongue. I felt ready to faint; I couldn't breathe. My hips
tilted up as I felt the approaching climax. Andrew's hands
clenched firmly on my backside. His mouth moved to cover
the sensitive nub of my sex, sucking vigorously, making the
heat pitch and surge until it finally broke over me in a wave
of ecstasy.
Andrew released the suction of his mouth, returning
his tongue to my entrance, pushing slowly in and out of me,
drawing more waves of pleasure from my loins as I lay
back, exhausted and trembling. Eventually, Andrew laid a
last kiss on my sex, then gently pulled my skirt back down,
and gathered me into his arms.
He pressed his handkerchief into my hand. When I
only looked at him, confused, he took the silk square back
and carefully pressed its corner along my mouth. As he
pulled it away, I saw the bloodstains from my cut lip. We
both smiled shyly. Andrew leaned in and kissed me,
making me wince slightly. Pulling back, he gave me a look
of apology then tried again, even more gently. As our lips
brushed against each other, his hands found their way yet
again to my breasts, toying with my increasingly sensitive
I smiled against his mouth. "Quite insatiable
tonight, aren't you, Captain?"
"Yes," he assured me, "I am." He tilted me back
again, lying over me and I felt his renewed erection pressing
firmly against my legs. His hands continued to play with
my breasts. I closed my eyes to enjoy the little spikes of
pleasure running through my body. My ears began to pick
up the hum of conversation and, beyond it, the swells of the
dance music. I smiled to myself, pitying the party-goers if
they were half as bored as I had been until my husband's
My eyes flashed open as I felt Andrew lightly bit my
right nipple. He cooled the heat, slowly circling the tender
peak with his tongue. "Is that nice?" he asked, sounding for
all the world as if he were inquiring about a cup of tea.
"Oh, yes, Andrew."
He winked, tweaking my other nipple between his
strong fingers until I squealed with a combination of pain
and pleasure. My breast was released and, in a moment,
Andrew's handkerchief appeared before my vision. "You'd
better bite down on something other than your lip," he
explained. Smiling, I took the piece of silk, but only held it
wadded into my hand.
He tended carefully to the grievance that had cause
my outcry, making my back arch to pressed the rounded bud
further into his mouth. He suckled it eagerly, his hands
moving to clasp my buttocks to hold me tight against him.
He gently caressing my breasts with his mouth. Tilting my
pelvis, I rubbed my hips sensually against his.
Removing his mouth from my skin, he raised
himself, pulling me gently with him. Holding me close, so
my chin rested on his shoulder. His hands continued to play
with my bottom, raising and lowering me to brush against
the bulge in his breeches.
"Julia, can I " He didn't finish, but I knew what he
was going to ask. Don't you know I'm yours for the taking?
Lying back on the sofa, and smiling up at him, I
allowed my free hand to wander up to my breasts renewing
the play he had abandoned. He watched me toy with myself
as I waited for him to make a further advance. When he
didn't move for a minute or two, I decided to take the
matter into my own hands.
My fingers fumbled slightly at his breeches
fastenings. I licked my lips in anticipation as I pulled out
the rigid shaft, already anxious to feel that hard virility
inside me. One hand stroking him, I moved the other to pull
my skirt back above my waist. Andrew reached out, closing
his fingers over mine.
Taking both my hands in his, he pulled me up from
the sofa, standing beside it. Turning me so I faced away
from him, he wrapped an arm around me, his cheek pressed
against mine. He didn't move for a long moment, only
stood still, holding me. Wondering what was wrong, I tried
to turn to face him again, but he held me fast. "Andrew, d-
do you want to wait until we're at home?" Oh, God, don't
make me wait!
I felt his laughter shake his chest. "I don't think I
would last that long." But he made no advances other than
letting a hand slip back up to my breast. My breath caught
in my throat, waiting for him. Finally, I heard the faint
rustling of my dress and felt Andrew's hand under my skirt,
settling onto my backside. He caressed it a long time before
tentatively asking: "Julia, will you let me take you from
My body tightened instinctively at the suggestion. I
couldn't think of any particular reason to refuse him.
Though we'd tried a few different positions, he'd never
entered me from behind before. It seemed so so
animalistic. Dirty, even. I smiled to myself; we'd also
never exchanged mouth play while only a few feet away
from a crowded room, and I hadn't thought twice about that.
I bit my lip, belatedly remembering the deep cut on it. I had
to admit, on a primal level, the suggestion excited me.
Andrew's hand continued to massage my haunches
as his mouth played over the back of my neck, sending
chills down my spine. When his fingers slipped between my
buttocks, I shivered. Could we really do this?
Andrew must have felt the slight relaxation of my
body. He gently pushed me forward, bracing me against the
"Bend over, Julia."
I did so, resting my shaking arms on the back of the
sofa. I nervously felt him spread my legs. His reassuring
touch managed to settle my nerves slightly as he lifted my
skirt from behind, laying it over my back. His hands
splayed over my backside, massaging the firm globes with
strong, steady pulses. He stepped close to me. His hot
erection pressed between my naked buttocks. Murmuring
endearments, he rubbed his hands over my back beneath my
dress. He shifted his hips repeatedly against my backside,
rubbing his shaft up and down between the fleshy globes.
A hand slipped between my legs and fingered my
channel, still wet from the actions of his mouth, but tight
from anticipation and nerves. His fingers pumped in and
out a few times, then disappeared. I found myself bracing
against his impending entrance and consciously tried to
Placing his hands on my shoulders, he leaned over
my back and took me in one firm stroke. As his hard body
thrust into mine, I felt unable to breath or move. The new
position stretched me in unfamiliar ways. He pulled me
wider and reached deeper than he ever had before. That,
coupled with being unable to see him, gave me the
frightening feeling of being taken by a stranger. My body
clenched tightly.
"Am I hurting you, Julia?" He started to withdraw.
"No, no."
"You're sure?"
Again, I deliberately relaxed as, with a soft groan, he
pressed himself slowly back into me, then settled into the
pull and drive that was so familiar and still so different.
Despite my nervousness, my body slowly began to respond.
I could see why Andrew wanted to try this, but I couldn't
shake the disorientation of not seeing his face.
As if he could read my mind, Andrew leaned even
further over me and, not breaking the steady rhythm, began
to whisper in my ear:
"Do you know how good this feels, Julia? Do you
know how much I love being inside your warm, wet body?"
His voice was low and hoarse as he moved slowly through
me. "No other woman could make me feel this good. Only
you. When I'm inside you, like I am now, I wouldn't
change places with God himself."
My lover's voice succeeded in making me relax, his
words raising the heat in my body. My arousal announced
itself in a flood of moisture through my sex, allowing him to
thrust easily into my body. His pelvis pounded against my
buttocks as he drove into me over and over, flooding me
with delicious sensations.
"That's it, Julia. Let me love your beautiful,
delectable body. I dream of it every night. The comfort of
your body, your eyes, your soul. Do you burn for me that
way, Julia? Do you love having me inside you?"
Lost to coherent thought, I could only murmur, "Yes,
Yes!" as he pushed steadily into me. I wanted to scream it
to the skies. Briefly raising one hand from the sofa, I
pressed Andrew's handkerchief between my teeth, unable to
stand the aching pleasure coursing through every limb.
Andrew reached a hand around my shaking body and
found the sensitive nub of my sex. His fingers touched and
fondled the tiny spot as his shaft stretched me wide, sending
my body into a fever pitch. The handkerchief barely
muffled the cries that escaped my throat with each plunge of
Andrew's pelvis. Wave after wave of euphoria flooded over
me. It was too much! Surely my body wouldn't survive.
Just when I thought I could stand no more, Andrew's
hands seized my hips, pulling me tight against him. His hot
seed flooded into me, sending me once again over the
precipice, my body shaking violently with the final climax.
When Andrew's hands released my hips, I found
myself unable to stand. Falling ungracefully onto the sofa, I
turned to look up at him. He buttoned his breeches, then
began to straighten his hair; I had pulled it loose at some
point in our exchange. Straightening his clothing, he took
up his coat from over the sofa-back and turned to leave the
"Andrew !" Where was he going? How dare he be
so unaffected?
My husband turned. Crossing back, he knelt before
me. "In ten minutes, I want you to leave this alcove and
find our hostess. Once you've taken your leave, I'll be
waiting outside with the carriage." He lowered his head and
left a slow, wet kiss on my right nipple. After he pulled
away, he seemed about to speak, but changed his mind and
gave the same careful attention to my left breast, adding a
squeeze for good measure. "I'm taking you home, Mrs
Harringsford, for I'm not nearly through with you." His
mouth moved close to my ear, his voice dropping to a
whisper, "If I don't have you screaming my name within the
hour, I will have failed you miserably." With those
provocative words, he disappeared through the tapestry.
I lay back on the sofa for a moment. More? Not
about to let the opportunity pass me by, I pushed myself up
and moved to the mirror.
Andrew had looked hardly dishevelled as he left the
alcove. The same could not be said of me. My breasts were
covered with red love bites, my lips swollen from Andrew's
kisses, my dressed hopelessly wrinkled. And my hair!
I dealt with the dress first, smoothing the wrinkles as
best I could, then re-fastening the bodice. The fabric felt
tight against my overly-sensitive nipples. Several of the
love bites were still visible, but I quickly remembered the
fichu I had stuffed behind the sofa. I rescued it, and
succeeded in covering the rest of the marks.
My hair was difficult as I had no brush or comb. I
managed to tame it into some semblance of its former glory,
but there was no doubt to an observant eye that I had been
recently involved in some strenuous activity.
Probably less than half of the prescribed ten minutes
had passed, but I slipped from the alcove anyway. I was just
in time to see Andrew disappearing through the ballroom
door. There was a slick substance finding it's way down my
leg. Andrew's seed. I shivered with anticipation. Already,
my body itched for his touch. Forcing my feet to be still
instead of chasing after him was one of the more difficult
things I've ever done.
I snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a
passing servant. The cool liquid was wonderful on my dry
throat. As I lowered the glass, I found Lord Beaumont had
appeared by my side.
"I've been looking for you, Mrs. Harringsford." He
glanced at my chest, his face falling to see it was once again
"Have you?"
"Yes." His gaze wandered over me, taking in the
signs, a smile wandering to his mouth. "I see now you've
been doing rather a lot of dancing."
I swirled the remaining contents of my champagne
glass. "You could say that," I said smugly.
"Surely you must be tired. Should I find us a quiet
couch for a little private conversation?" he asked
I nearly laughed. Beaumont...or Andrew. A difficult
"Actually, I'm quite spent. Thankfully, Captain
Harringsford is taking me home to bed." I allowed myself
one glance at his perplexed face, then walked away, seeking
the party's hostess.
I thought it very ironic that I escaped by pleading a
headache. The matron cooed over me and, with an
admonition to rest myself, called for my wrap. The cape
was barely over my shoulders when I bolted out the door.
Andrew was pacing beside his carriage and looked up as I
practically ran down the walk.
"You're three minutes early," he scolded as I flung
my arms around his neck.
"Are you complaining?" I asked as I pulled his
mouth down to mine.
He silently pushed me into the carriage. I heard him
bark orders to the coachman, "Piccadilly. And don't spare
the whip." He climbed inside and knocked on the roof to
signal the driver. As the carriage jolted into motion, I
expected him to lunge for me. Instead, he calmly took the
seat across from me, laid an ankle on the opposite knee and
closed his eyes.
I watched him for a long moment as the carriage
jolted along the rough road.
He opened his eyes. "Yes, m'dear."
I reached over and touched his knee. He uncrossed
his legs, knocking my hand from him. I frowned. He closed
his eyes again.
This time, I only merited one eye. "Yes?"
I ran my fingers up his leg. He twitched, but I kept
my hand on it. "I recall you describing something," I said
slyly. "Me, screaming your name."
"Yes, I did. However, I added the time frame of one
hour." He pulled out his watch and consulted it. "And,
according to my calculations, I still have forty-six minutes."
He winked. "Besides, the coachman would overhear." He
picked up my hand and returned it to my own lap. I crossed
my arms, pouting.
He smiled slowly. "Well, perhaps it would be best
not to press my luck." Before I could react, he was beside
me. His hands dived beneath my skirt, teasing and
tantalizing. I reached for his breeches, but before I could
manage the second button, the carriage came to a halt.
Feeling the carriage shift with the driver's descent, Andrew
straightened my skirt as the door opened wide.
We had arrived at our London townhouse, where I
lived most of the time, unless the Prince took the Tenth
Hussars down to Brighton for an extended time. When this
happened, I was usually given accommodations in the
Pavillion itself. The Prince made no secret that he wished
to exercise his droit de seigneur with me, as he had with the
wives of most of his friends. The fact that he had not yet
succeeded was no doubt the reason for his generous
Entering the house, we threw off our wraps and
made immediately for the stairs with barely a nod to the
butler. Nearly tripping over each other, we stumbled into
my bedroom. Even as Andrew turned the key in the lock,
my hands flipped the last buttons of his breeches, from
which his hardened shaft sprang, ready and eager. My
mouth watered at the sight. I sank to my knees, wanting to
feel him between my lips.
His hands reached under my shoulders and pulled
me back up. "We're on a schedule, Julia, and we only have
" He pulled out the watch again. " thirty-nine minutes.
Now you'd best get rid of that dress, before I rip it off you."
I slowly raised my hand to the top button of my
bodice, ready to give him a teasing display. I hadn't
counted on Andrew following through with his threat,
however. Suiting action to word, he attacked the buttons of
my dress, and actually did end by sending more than one of
them flying across the room. He pushed the fabric from my
shoulders. It settled into a pool at my feet.
There was no fire in the room, making my body
erupt in gooseflesh. My nipples contracted instantly into
hard nubs. Andrew's hand drifted to them, but, teasing him,
I stepped back. His eyes glittering, predatory, he backed me
quickly across the room until my legs hit the side of the bed
and, startled, I fell onto my back.
Andrew didn't break eye contact as he swiftly caught
my leg and knocked off my shoe, then pulled the ribbon of
my garter, slipping the stocking off. It's mate followed it.
Now completely naked, I lay back, smiling, as Andrew's
eyes roved over me. I began to push myself up, but he
quickly shook off his lethargy and, before I could raise
myself, climbing over me, pining me between his legs, his
shaft resting just below my breasts as he sat on my hips.
He stripped off his coat, tossing the garment
heedlessly over his shoulder. Only pausing to remove his
watch, he gave his waistcoat no more consideration. Laying
the watch on the bedside table, he then stripped off his shirt,
revealing his body to the waist. My hands reached up to
stroke his sculpted chest, pausing to play lightly with his
In order to remove his breeches, he was forced to
release me. He stood beside the bed, his back to me. I
crawled forward on the bed to slid my hands around him,
revelling in his naked skin, and began stroke him where it
counted most. He shivered, but managed to remove his
stockings and shoes, then his breeches, despite my attempts
at distraction. They hadn't hit the floor before I was pulling
him back onto the bed, panting with excitement.
"Still eager are you?" He clicked his tongue. "You
obviously have no idea what you're in for."
I felt a thrill. "What are you going to do to me?"
He gestured to the table holding his watch. "Time is
money. I'll show you instead." He pushed me onto my
back, his strong fingers slipped into me, groping, probing.
I pulled away, smiling. "Tell me."
His voice was tight, showing his need to be raging as
high as my own. "First," he said darkly, stretching out
beside me, his head propped up on his elbow. "I am going
to fondle and stroke your body until you are mad with
His hands wandered back to me, I allowed him to
touch me. I lay back, feeling his hands touch my face, my
breasts, my hips, my legs, everywhere but the place that
yearned most for him. He steadily ignored it, despite my
arching hips. Finally, when I gave a loud moan of
frustration, he chuckled and softly touched the wet folds.
He spread my legs wide as he moved between them,
then trapped my wrists on either side of my head. I felt his
hot, delicious manhood at my entrance. He wedged the tip
into the tender, moist opening, but did not enter me. I
squirmed and arched my hips, but with no success. After a
minute or so of struggle, I pleased, "Come in me!"
"Then," he said, his voice shaking, "as you've no
doubt guessed, I'm going to invade your magnificent, wet,
welcoming body."
He braced my hips against his and pushed himself
almost harshly into me, stabbing me with his erection. In
the pause that followed, I held my breath, waiting for him to
start that glorious, ancient, pounding rhythm. He was still. I
squirmed against him, with no response. I wrapped my legs
around him, and with a great effort, shifted my hips under
his, but he still did not move. "Now!" I gasped, unable to
articulate any further. "Oh God, now!" My channel was
burning with the need for release
"Then," he breathed, "I'm going to drive myself into
you, again and again." Slowly, Andrew's hips began to
move. "Until you can stand no more, and your passage is
flooded with my seed."
Andrew's hips ground into mine as his manhood
charged me again and again. The rhythm was slow, but
strong. I raised my hips against his, trying to speed it, but he
kept it steady, which was of no help to my shaking body and
my burning loins.
"Faster!" I breathed. "Harder!"
He obligingly increased the power of his thrusts,
shaking the bed with their force, but no amount of pleading
would make him speed the steady invasion. Again and
again, I gasped and panted and begged him, to no avail. The
wet sound of our joining drew tears of frustration from my
eyes as he used me gloriously, beautifully, but without
Then, I heard a hoarse whisper. "My name!"
"What?" I gasped between his tremendous thrusts.
"Say my name!" he demanded.
"Andrew," I gasped. Immediately, he began to use
me even harder. I felt the heat finally begin to build within
my centre. "Andrew," I repeated, "Andrew!" I chanted it
with every thrust as he pulled me slowly along the steady
climb to the culmination, where the word was torn from my
throat in a final death cry. "Andrew!"
I felt the rush of his seed flowing into me and, a
moment later, he collapsed onto my body with a final groan.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he captured my face
between his hands and, before I had even caught my breath
from the climax, he took it away again in a heavy, open-
mouthed kiss. I whimpered against his mouth as he gave
one or two more heavy plunges into my aching channel
before slipping out of me.
He pushed himself onto his knees, leaving my heated
body exposed to the cold air of the room. Before I could
find the energy to complain, he snatched a folded quilt from
the foot of the bed and returned with it, spreading its
warmth over both of us.
Feeling tired and used and blissfully content, I
snuggled into his arms. I felt him sigh as he pulled me tight
against him, his knees fitting behind mine. His nose rubbed
lightly against the back of my neck.
"It's good to be home," he whispered as I faded off
to sleep.


Thank you for reading my story. Please feel free to email
me at if you have comments.


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