A light breeze ruffled the grasses beside the young girl as she dangled one foot in the stream. She sat on the bank, one leg hanging over the edge and the other bent so that her head rested on her knee. She was no more than a child but at twelve was a beautiful promise of the woman to come.
Her uncle, Rober Walter Finch, stood a little way down stream on the opposite side, and watched her. He noticed with deep, sensual pleasure how well developed his young ward was becoming. The position in which she sat spread her legs wide and pulled the light summer frock up around her thighs. He wondered what it would be like to fondle those soft, white columns and the cloth of his riding breeches tightened as his organ filled with blood and pushed against his pant leg.
Belinda lay back so that the thick black hair that had obscured his vision no longer hid from view the soft, deep recess of her virginal cunt. Dark, feathery down was just beginning to grow there but the lips still showed fat and rosy.
As he watched his hard tool pushing against him painfully, he became aware that he was not the only one snared by the young girls sexuality. Lying back on the bank, one leg still dangling and the other spread wide, her little hand moved down and stroked the soft flesh of her thigh. She tucked her dress up higher and smiled with pleasure as her hand explored the plumpness of her round stomach and ran down the other leg as far as she could reach. How good it would feel to have someone else fondle her. She paused for a moment, feeling the breeze and the warm sun on her pouting slit. It was almost as though someone were caressing her gently; almost, but not quite.
She moved her fingers, exploring the lips and sides of her little cunt. She felt herself become moist, and dipped her fingers into the heavy liquid. Her hips twitched against the grass, and her excitement grew. She put one finger deeply inside herself, wishing that it was something else.
Watching this unexpected delight her uncle could contain himself no longer. He opened his pants and released the huge throbbing cock from its restraint.
“The hot little bitch. What a pity she should have to do that herself. I'd gladly rub her wet little cunt for her-yes, and lick it, too.”
As he watched the child stroking herself, knowing only enough to arouse herself, but not enough to satisfy, his hand moved along the length of his cock. First slowly, then faster and faster as he felt the heat gather in his legs, making it almost impossible for him to stand.
Belinda was sighing and bouncing, her ringer going in and out of the tight, wet hole. It seemed that something more than this should happen, but she didn't know what. Finally, in an agony of frustration, she pulled her skirt down and leaped up.
As she bent to put her slippers on, Robert got a quick look at the fat hills that rose inside her dress. God, how pretty she was. Tiny, but roundly blown, her waist was no bigger than the span of a man's hands with round, firm hips below and high breasts jutting out above. He watched her fat buttocks bounce as she ran across the field and swore that someday he would place hand, tongue and penis in every crevice of that delightful body. She was obviously ready for it, and who better to fuck her than he?
He pulled on the huge column a few more times, then felt a great burst as the come spurted out of him, soaking the grass at his feet. If only, he thought, that rush of sperm had been shot high up inside that tight little cunt. Ah well, it would be soon enough.
Although the carnal delights of his ward were much on his mind, something else was even more so. For many years now England had avoided any major war. The raids of Drake and the other bold privateers were certainly a thorn in the side of the haughty Spanish, but as yet they had done little about it. Europe was rife with faction, but Elizabeth preferred the prosperity of peace, to using up good money on warfare. A woman's notion, certainly. Now that she was no longer young, there seemed even less likelihood of teaching the main-landers just who ruled the seas. Dutch, French and Spanish were all guilty of insolence toward the English but the Spanish were the worst offenders. Also, Robert added practically, the richest. If war were declared, the inadequately defended outposts of the Spanish in South America and the Caribbean could be attacked. Much plunder awaited from the looting of these treasure houses, and any man appointed governor of one of the ports could have riches undreamed of.
Cecil was with the Queen, as he had always been, but there were others who felt as Robert did. Walsingham was ardently prowar, and his secret service extended to every country in Europe. There were those who said that he gained little information that was not already bandied about the court, and even less than Elizabeth herself, that most shrewd and artful diplomat acquired through more regular channels, but no one could be sure. Robert was a staunch member of the Walsingham ranks as were more distinguished men like Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester and his second cousin, Sir David Cassen.
It was on Sir David that Robert Finch's plans now hung. Cassen was firmly entrenched in the Walsingham faction. Although he appeared at court as a licentious dandy, he was an important go-between for the network of spies in Spain and France. Mary of Scotland was the subject for many a plot and if information could be obtained naming certain men as fellow plotters, many of the enemies of Walsingham's war policy could be eliminated.
It had been discussed that Finch would go back to court with Sir David as his secretary where he would have an opportunity to mix With many who might have useful information. Although staunch-ily Anglican himself, his family had been Catholic and he would stand a good chance of insinuating himself into that group who wished to see England once again under a Catholic ruler.
Belinda, as part of his household, would, of course, accompany him to court. Remembering her silken, rounded body, and her obvious interest in the sensations of the flesh, Robert realized that she might be of great use to him. Important officials were not averse to a tasty, virgin cunt, especially when such beauty of face and form went with it, and many a man had lost his discretion at the urgings of his cock.
Robert smiled to himself. The cunt might not be exactly virginal by the time the girl reached court, but after all, she would perform that much better with a little experience.
Robert felt his great organ begin to tingle again, and the heat began to flow into his loins. It made things no better that since his wife had died a year ago, he had had to make do with pretty but simple serving girls. Living in the country had its disadvantages. Of course, there was the wife of his near neighbour, Arnold Ranely, but she was a bit too cow-like and romantic to be very exciting. Finch, at forty, was in the height of his manhood, and a fond, fast fuck was not his idea of the ultimate in sexual delight.
He turned off the path leading to the main house, and started toward the gardener's cottage. The gardener's daughter was pretty and very willing and he could try to pretend that her active, artful young body was that of his niece. Damned little baggage. He had no idea at the moment quite how it was to happen, but he must have a taste of that little morsel soon.
His self-induced ejaculation had served only to whet his appetite for more, and he quickened his step as he felt his blood-gorged penis press tautly against his clothing. The gardener's daughter might not be quite as young as Belinda, and she was certainly no innocent, but she did have undoubted charms of her own.
Seven miles down the winding country road, Sir David Cassen was enjoying the company of his little family. He had arrived from London that morning, and was indulging in a day at home before taking up other business. He would have to see Finch. Things were beginning to come to a head at court, and he would need another pair of ears. Finch was cunning and devoted, and would prove most useful.
That, however, could wait till the morrow. His wife had been unable to accompany him the last time he left home, and it had been nearly two months since they were together. Although the court of Elizabeth had more than enough beautiful women, ready and eager to have their warm, juicy holes stuffed, Sir David had never found any woman quite as fulfilling as his wife. Only she could leave him with that completely drained, exhausted feeling that came after having been literally fucked to a standstill.
There were other pleasures associated with being at home. His lovely little seven year old daughter was, next to his wife, his greatest delight. Many would hardly have approved of the way in which he had raised her, but then, what went on in his own home was not a subject he discussed with outsiders. From the time she was a toddler, Karen had been invited into her parents' bed and allowed to fondle and caress their bodies as she liked. Her nuzzling and playing was most arousing, and its very innocence and inexpertese made it all that much more tantalizing. Many a time after an hour's romp, she had snuggled up beside then, while Sir David gave his wife a thorough and passionate fucking.
The family had just enjoyed a light supper, and Sir David was seated at his desk in the main salon, writing one of his carefully worded reports. A fire burned cheerfully in the grate, and his wife sat on a low settee across the room, reading a novel.
He glanced up from his work. God, she was beautiful. Not yet twenty-five, her figure was slight as a girl, but with the full, rich lushness of a woman. Her heavy auburn hair fell over one shoulder in a thick mass of ringlets. How many times had he buried his strong fingers in that hair while he rode her from behind, pulling her head back and making her rear and pitch against him.
Karen was playing with a doll near by, and Sir David went back to his work.
“If you're going to play, you'd better undo my bodice.” He heard his wife's deep, melodic voice. He looked up and saw Karen standing beside her mother, undoing the laces that held together the front of her dress. She reached in her little hands and lifted one breast free from the restraining garment. It was a beautiful breast, large and firm, the dark rose nipple jutting proudly.
Karen pulled on it with both hands rubbing it against her cheek. She loved to fondle her mother. She was so soft and tasty, and she enjoyed being toyed with.
Sir David watched covertly as the little girl slipped her mouth over her mother's nipple and started sucking. He had seen her working on her mother's body many times, but it never failed to excite him.
“Good Lord, Marion, is she at you again?” he laughed. “The little minx is insatiable.”
He knew it aroused his wife to know he was watching, and he was more than glad to oblige her.
Karen sucked greedily on the fat tit, squeezing and petting the other, rolling the nipple between her fingers. She pulled her mouth away with a sharp sucking noise and dropped to her knees. The bare breast continued to hang exposed, the nipple hard and distended, bearing witness to the pressure of Karen's eager mouth.
As the child crawled beneath her mother's voluminous skirts, Marion set down the book she had been reading and leaned back, her eyes half closed.
In the dark, cosy tent under the soft silk of her mother's dress, Karen nuzzled her face against the warm, damp thighs. She loved the rich scent that her mother exuded and the moist heat of her.
Her little tongue licked from knee to crotch, running along the top of Marion's thighs and down the crease between the cheeks of her bottom. Her pointed tongue pushed into the tight hole of Marion's anus, licking and darting.
Marion gasped. The wet little mouth was rapidly building a fire in her loins and belly, and she slid down on the settee, making more of her body available. The child was frequently at her, but Marion was a woman who could take a lot of sexual stimulation.
Sir David felt his great prick rise tight against his pants, and he crossed the room and sat on a low stool near his wife.
“Pull up your skirt.” His voice was hoarse, thickened by the lust that his wife and daughter aroused in him.
“I want to see her.”
Marion reached forward and took the lavish folds of her skirt in her hands, lifting it around her waist. She spread her legs wider, making it easier for Karen, and also making it easier for Sir David to see.
Sir David had opened his pants and his huge cock jutted out like a flag pole. The bloated nob was purple with blood, and the end was wet and sticky. He cupped his tingling balls in one hand, and with the other he stroked the massive shaft. His whole body was burning, and he could barely hold back the urge to ram his sore cock up his wife's hot cunt. But no. Better to leave that until later. Better to prolong the pleasure, even if it was almost an agony.
Then Sir David could control himself no longer. The sight drove him to a rage of lust.
Karen kissed her mother fondly, gathered up her dolls and skipped out of the room. Marion had warned her long ago not to mention anything about their play to anyone else, that it was a special secret just between the three of them, but there had been little need of it. The child seemed to sense instinctively that it was a secret not to be shared.
Thinking now of the stiff, puritanical Nanny, Sir David smiled. Had she walked into the room a few minutes earlier, she would hardly have believed that the little creature so completely abandoned to the giving and taking of sexual pleasure was her quiet, demure little Lady Karen. A sly, cute little moppet, his daughter. God, wouldn't she give some poor devil hell before too many years were out?
The forgoing hour was not, perhaps, a typical family scene, even for this lusty, lustful age. It was certainly not one that would have been much approved of. It was, however, quite to Sir David Cassen's taste. He was glad to be home.