French Whore

Her mouth. That's what he's been digging for, what she does with her mouth. Now that it's broached, he's not sure he can stand to hear it. She lays along the length of him so close he can feel the warmth of her, but they barely touch.

In the ten years they've been married, there have likely been a dozen maids, lasses and whores he's known more and bedded more than his own nobility bred wife. His initial repulsion to her behavior has become guilt, and hearing her describe her prolonged cuckoldry is wrenching his heart and his cock in opposite directions.He's helpless to stop the query that spills from his lips, though he detests being toyed with so.

"What did she do with her mouth?" She gives a very feminine groan of pleasure and jealousy nips at his elbow yet again. "It began because the midwives would never allow me to be left alone. If I only wanted to rest in the dark, I must still have someone sit with me, and so I'd tell them Mary would. I couldn't hide what I was doing from her, and I burned for it too badly to stop."

It is his turn to groan and he wishes he'd brought the bottle of whiskey to bed with them now. It is all he can do to keep his hands off his cock. Christ, he wants to take the thing out and pet the feverish skin, tug at the shaft until he spews. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills her to go on.

"So two or three times each day Mary would sit ever so properly by the window and make so as to not notice that I was frantically rubbing myself to climax in the tester bed. She couldn't be caught with her hands on me, so her ministering to my needs couldn't be risked in the daytime. Then I'd still be hungry for her in the night. So, she suggested that if I were more... satisfied, I may be less needy."

Is she torturing him this way on purpose? In the dark he can see her perfectly as she was in those days, a beautiful fifteen year old lass plump with his baby. He remembers his once daily visit to her chamber, during breakfast. She seemed flushed to him often, he'd always assumed it was the pregnancy, but never imagined it was lust. He'd watch her eat, every spoonful of porridge and sweet bit of fruit brought to her lips, and he'd ached for her, too. He pines for all the times they could have been together, all the long lunches he spent with a sluttish lord's daughter that he could barely stand unless she had a sheet over her head, while his wife ached with desire on the floor above. Her hand, taunting, settles on his thudding chest.

"Go on."

"She began by suckling me. My breasts were so full and tender in those days. They'd drive me mad, prickling and tingling and making my cunt twinge in response. She saw me all the time rubbing my wrists against my nipples and weighing them in my hands. One night her hand drifted up to my belly, then higher to rub and fondle my chest." That noise in her throat again. He bends his knees to give his swelled dick a little extra space.

"She tweaked and pulled at the nipple and her fingertips came away wet. She tasted them, and then leaned over to latch on my nipple like a baby. Her sucking drove me mad," she has the nerve, with one hand still on his chest, to press the fingers of her other hand to her crotch! Lying prone, his head is elevated just enough that he can look down at the top of her head and breasts, the swirl of silk around her softened midsection, and there, her hand cupping the cleft of her legs. Her fingers work back and forth slightly to a rhythm he can't fathom, as though she's playing a particularly sensitive musical instrument that only she can hear. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his shaft now.

"She nursed at one titty and then the other, back and forth, until I bucked against her hand, with its fingers buried in me." God, the vulgarity. It turns his stomach to hear her speak of this, and yet he wants powerfully to bear her to the mattress and roger her to within an inch of her life. He can't remember ever feeling like this about her. As newlyweds, they'd been a bold but scared girl and a fumbling man-child, with the goal of coitus only to produce a healthy heir. They'd had years now to grow closer and yet it seemed they'd only hardened, as though tempered by marriage more than ignited by it. Remembering those early years of marriage, he realizes that he is no longer seeking approval or meeting a demand in lying with his wife. His wife. He has rightful claim to her, and yet he's still acting like a boy who needs to be told to sow his seed. Reluctantly he settles his own hand over the ache in his groin. An involuntary sigh escapes him and she giggles. She trails her hand up and over his throat before dropping it down and resting her palm flat against his lower belly. His dick surges in response.

"Did her... treatment... help?" Her sigh makes his hand tighten on himself. "Ahh... it did. Afterwards she helped me tidy up a bit with a cool cloth and I fell asleep as soon as she blew the candle out. I hadn't been able to relax in so long- I don't know what I would have done without her. She suckled me nightly after that. My nipples got tender and puffy as though the babe was already born, and thinking of bedtime with Mary made me ache and cream. Mary kept me satisfied like that for weeks."

He remembers her breasts. How many times had he confessed to lustful thoughts, brought on by watching her hold the breakfast dishes just above her rounded belly and lean over them. As she spooned her porridge she'd press them together so he could see the valley between, through the lace of her nightgown. He'd coveted them desperately, and secretly harbored resentment for the little parasite that made his wife look so fuckable while making her so utterly untouchable. He strokes himself firmly now, and that is enough to urge her on.

"Until, one night, she sucked at me for ages and still no amount of her chafing at my crotch could bring me to climax. I couldn't even find the place that would make me crack with my own fingers." He abandons pretense and stuffs his hand roughly under the waistband of his pants. When he finally grasps his cock, he is weak with relief and it is hot and throbbing like a bad tooth.

"Then she put her mouth lower."