Cardinal Roderigo's mistress, the beautiful Vannozza Cattanei, was sleeping in her room in a wing of the house when he went through to see her later in the day. She was recovering from one of those ridiculous and unexpected summer chills.
He sat on the edge of her bed. She was certainly still beautiful although her youth was past. He still found her delicious in bed. But every so often he felt the need for a fresh body, words and whimpers of passion from a strange voice. He felt the need now. Not an abstract one, but the need for Lucrezia on whom his whole lustful attention had focused.
He leaned over the sleeping woman and kissed her forehead. She awoke and smiled sleepily at him.
“I'll leave you tonight,” he said. “You still need rest. Is there anything you need?”
“Nothing, Roderigo, nothing. What have you been doing?”
“Watching the children. They're growing up.”
“Yes, indeed,” she said sadly. “I wish they could call me mother.”
“Hardly becoming, my dear,” the Cardinal answered with a chuckle. “The Pope would have the final fit to finish him if such a thing were openly admitted. Think of the disrepute the Church would fall into. Think of the Church, my sweet.”
She pressed his hand with a smile.
“The Church is a hypocrite, Roderigo. You are the Church.”
“Hush, dear, never let it be said. Now, if there's nothing you need I shall go and read for a while in the library, or perhaps I'll take a stroll in the grounds.”
“Yes. I shall be better in the morning,” she said.
He bent again and kissed her on the forehead and she pulled his face down and kissed him on the lips.
“Good-night, my sweet.” “Sweet dreams.”
He left her chamber and strolled through the wing of the house, meditating. He didn't head down the stairway toward the library, nor yet to the grounds. He directed his feet instead toward the children's wing.
Candles were burning in Cesare's room when he looked in and Cesare was sitting in bed staring vacantly at the opposite wall.
“Very pensive, my son. You'd better go to sleep now. I want you to be at your best for our little hunting trip tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes, father. I was thinking about it.”
Liar, thought the Cardinal with an inward chuckle. You'd forgotten it completely. You were dreaming of your little sister's breasts, reliving your first flesh-to-flesh liaison.
He went to Cesare's bedside and kissed him on the forehead.
“Good-night, my son.”
“Good-night, father.”
Cardinal Roderigo blew out the candles and retired from the room.
His heart beat faster and his penis was already at half-mast as he walked down the corridor to Lucrezia's room at the end. Anticipatory thrills licked down his spine at the thought of what he was going to enjoy. He hadn't decided exactly how to bring it about, but somehow or other he was going to have her tonight.
He opened her door softly, without knocking, and stepped inside.
Candles were burning in her room, too, but she was not in her bed. He glanced around the room and saw her sitting on a stool beside the window, gazing out into the grounds. She was clad in her thin nightdress, but the evening was warm.
She turned, startled. “Oh, papa. I didn't hear you come in.” He came across to her and peered through the window.
“What are you doing, dearest, dreaming about the stars?”
“Oh, it's such a lovely night, father, and I don't feel a bit sleepy.”
She had risen from the stool and stood beside him, looking out with him over the trees. He glanced down at her. Little did she know that he knew what she'd been up to. He found himself breathing nervously. Her breasts swelled out below the square neck of the nightgown, pushing the material out in a twin range of hills with just a slight indentation between them.
In spite of his years, the Cardinal felt quite nervous. Astonishing, he thought, after all my experience, to feel like a schoolboy with my own daughter.
He put his arm around her and she leaned against him affectionately. How often before I've put my arm around her without the slightest tremor, he thought. And now he could hardly keep his fingers from quivering on her soft shoulder. He wondered how she felt, now, with her new awareness. She'd been growing more and more provocative toward him, but, perhaps now, paradoxically, her experience had turned her mind on her brother Cesare; perhaps she could think of nothing and no one else.
“Have you had a pleasant day?” He tried to keep his voice normal.
“Oh, I've had a wonderful day, papa.”
“Has Cesare been good to you?”
She looked up at him and he could see those deep eyes in the moonlight! They were not a bit apprehensive, but she was searching his eyes, as if wondering.
“He's always good to me, father. I sometimes think he'd die for me.”
“A very romantic notion, my dear young lady. Maybe you mean you'd die for him, eh?”
He squeezed her shoulder and ran his hand down her arm, as if in affection. She moved her other hand onto his and pressed it.
“Perhaps that is what I mean, papa. I never feel I can hide anything from you.”
“Ah, you'll learn, my sweet, to have admiration for others than your brother.”
“Oh but I have, papa. I love you at least as much as Cesare.”
Am I reading into those words what I want to read into them, the Cardinal asked himself? Are they as innocent as they could be — were it not for what I'd witnessed this afternoon? Or is she really being provocative again in a way that only a she-devil could be?
He bent and kissed the top of her golden head, moving his hand from her shoulder, under her armpit so that his fingers lay lightly along the outside bulge of her womanly breast.
“You speak like someone very old in years, my dear.”
“I often feel very old in years, father. Much older than Cesare.”
He laughed gently. The breast under his fingers was solid and sleek-feeling even through the nightdress. He longed to tear off that flimsy garment and grasp her breast in his hands while he devoured her lips and felt his penis riding up between her thighs.
“Well, you'd better go to bed,” he said. “Come, I'll carry you.”
And with that he reached down and swung her from her feet, insuring as he did so that his arm rested under her thighs with his hand against the intimate, rounded crevice formed by the tops of her thighs and the beginnings of her buttocks.
He swung her playfully to and fro once or twice, enabling himself thus to let his hand slip, as if accidentally, between her legs where he could actually feel the slim flanges of her sex.
“Oh, papa!” she uttered sharply. And then she added quickly, to hide the real motive for her cry: “I thought you were going to drop me.”
“Drop you,” he cried jocularly. “As if I'd drop my beautiful daughter.”
He swung her again, his hand slipping along her vaginal lips with every movement. She threw back her head over his arm and closed her eyes with a smile on her lips.
Got you now, my beauty, he thought. A little more of this and you're mine.
“Heave ho, heave ho!” he cried in a jolly tone, while his hand pressed and slid along her vagina which he could clearly feel through the thin cloth.
For a minute or two he swung her back and forth, turning in an occasional circle, raising her, lowering her, all the time his hand working on that newly-initiated core of her being. She remained with her head back, laughing nervously every now and then, saying “Oh, papa!” and flushing with ill-concealed excitement for the rest.
Suddenly, his intruding hand felt wetness through her gown. His hand slipped more easily against her vagina. She was getting really excited. The time had come where a facade of fun and games was no longer necessary.
He carried her to the bed and laid her out on it. He stood up then as if to go, eager to see her reaction. She opened her eyes. Her position was one of abandon, with her legs apart under the nightshift.
“Kiss me goodnight, papa,” she said. And it seemed to him that even if he made no further move she would embark on an attempt at seduction.
He leaned down over the bed. Her beautiful young face with those full, indefinitely formed lips was very close. She put up her arms and caught his neck to pull his head down. He kissed her on the lips and it was certainly like no father-and-daughter kiss they'd ever had before. He felt those soft lips pushing hard against him, heard her body rustling, knew that she was rubbing her legs together.
Even now, for the last vestige of delicacy, he pretended to lose his balance as she pulled his head. He tumbled down beside her on the bed. She was still kissing him, but now she released him and laughed delightedly. Such a laugh, he thought. It was a mixture of amusement at his fall, of sensuality, of nervous excitement, of triumph — yes, perhaps, even triumph.
“You little minx,” he said aloud.
“Why little minx, papa, darling?” she asked.
“I heard you 'darling' Cesare by the pool today,” he retorted. “If I were a father like some I'd send you to a convent.”
Lucrezia was obviously taken aback, but his attitude reassured her.
“Didn't you mind, papa? Was it very wicked?”
“Very wicked in the eyes of the world, my dear. But, in your father's eyes it was enviable.”
“Papa — are you going to kiss me goodnight again?”
Her thighs were working together and the gown rising and falling. from her breathing. With an ecstatic sigh he kissed her mouth, hard and then harder, forcing her lips apart so that his teeth grazed hers before he pushed his tongue through and into her mouth.
His hand went away, wandering over her body, trembling over the luscious, still-hidden flesh. He reached right down to the hem of her gown and slid his hand along her leg, up over the knee and up the thigh. He played with the thighs, teasing them with his fingertips, drawing his nails over the glossy, young flesh, right up to her vagina, teasing her without touching her cranny. She moved and slithered on the bed, eyes closed, in a heat of sensuality.
He too was fluttering inside. This was it. This beautiful, precocious daughter of his with her firm, fleshy body was his. His penis was taut with strain. He moved his mouth from hers and ran his lips over her slim, soft face.
“Put your tongue in my mouth,” he murmured.
Her lips sought his and then he felt the soft, wet sliver of her tongue edge between his lips and push into his mouth. She flicked it in and out like a cobra; she breathed into his mouth, breathing her passion.
Good God, your mother would never believe it, he thought.
He sucked her tongue, his saliva mingling with hers. He forced it to retreat with his, filling her mouth with his, like a prick in a wide-open female orifice.
Her hands moved around his head and neck the way they had around Cesare's, but occasionally they jerked when his experienced technique gave her more of a shock.
Softly he began to brush her labia with his fingertips. Gently, gently, back and forth, until the moisture began to ooze out and trickle along her smooth, young thighs. Then he moved the lips apart and inserted two fingers, searched for and found the wet, hard little clitoris. This was something Cesare hadn't known. He'd have to tell him.
Gently he massaged it, feeling it thicken, harden in his fingers. Lucrezia began to squeal and jerked her head away from his and then back in little gusts of uncontrollable passion.
He caught the bud of flesh between two fingers and nipped it, drawing his fingers from its base up to the hard little point.
“Oh, papa! Oh, papa!” she squealed and thrust her tongue wildly into his mouth the way he'd instructed her.
The Cardinal, his face hot, perspiration beading on his almost bald pate, worked his fingers along the inside of the lips, easing them apart until he found the little hole nestling between them. He wormed his finger into it, pushing up through the tight, moist flesh which was as wet and smooth as sealskin. Lucrezia jerked and pressed her thighs tightly over his hand, hindering his progress. He felt the warm flesh of her thighs bulging around his hand. Gently he tickled her vagina with his fingers and gradually she relaxed again and opened her legs.
He leaned up from her a little and looked at her. Her face was flushed, she didn't open her eyes, her lips were open, quivering every so often. He looked down at her body. The nightdress was up around her hips, revealing the delicious proportions of her thighs, the soft bulges of skin between her legs, the little area of down at her thigh junction. The top part of her body was still covered. The hillocks of her breasts heaved in shapely unrest beneath the white material. Swiftly he grabbed the shift with his free hand and pulled it right up, exposing first the full roundness of her little belly and her hips, and then the bulbous symmetry of her breasts above with their slim, pointed nipples.
“Oh, you beauty!” he exclaimed aloud. “You beauty!”.
He swooped down to her breasts. He kissed them, sucked the nipples, making her squirm with unbearable ecstasy. He ran his lips down over her ribs, her belly which yielded before the pressure. He covered her hips with hot, wet kisses, following the crease of her groin, licking the smooth, warm-tasting skin of her thighs.
“Oh, papa! Oh, papa!” She seemed incapable of saying anything but those two words as she wriggled her shoulders in the air and squirmed her hips and belly under his lips.
He took his fingers out of her vagina and moved his lips tantalizingly along the fleshy tops of her thighs.
“Oh, papa, I can't stand it!”
But she didn't close her legs and he thought — you'll have more than this to stand before I've finished, you lovely little minx.
Gently he pushed his hands under her buttocks. Oh, what delightful buttocks! They were tightened now, tense in his hands as she strained up toward his lips. He grasped a buttock in each hand and felt them, digging in his fingers, feeling them relax onto his palms, flood out in a sudden give of flesh all over his hands.
He gripped them, pushed her thighs wider with his bald head and licked the lips of her vagina.
She made noises of torment, as if she were gargling with water in her throat. He flicked his tongue into the aperture, which seemed to give way on all sides of his tongue. There was a taste of the inside of an oyster shell, soft and salty and indescribable.
The clitoris was there, seeming bigger to his tongue than to his fingers. He licked it, caught it in his lips and sucked it. She began to squirm even more, gripping his face between her thighs in convulsive spasms. Her breath passed through her lips in the form of a continuous groaning whimper. He hoped they would not disturb any of the household.
Her movements became more wild and uncontrolled and at this point he eased off and removed his mouth.
Reaching up he pulled her shift over her head. She stretched out her arms above her head and he slipped it over them and threw it on the floor. He got up from the bed quickly and began to slip out of his clothes. His penis still gave him cause for anxiety. When he came he wanted it to be right up in her.
Naked, with the warm air like a cool hand on his body, he turned back to the bed and saw her wide-open, anguished, desiring eyes.
His penis was sticking out like a pike. He was afraid she might run from the room at the sight of its size, but instead she fixed her fascinated gaze on it as if hypnotized.
He lay down on the bed beside her and kissed her neck.
“Oh, papa I'm frightened — it's so much bigger than Cesare's,” she whispered.
“Don't worry, my darling — you'll find that after the first shock you're a match for it.”
He ran his lips all around her neck and put his tongue in her ear until she shivered with the sensation and put her arms back around his neck.
For a few seconds he kneaded her clitoris again until she was moaning with pleasure, and then, his penis pounding as if it were a cannon discharging shot every few moments, he slithered onto her body.
Oh, the delight of feeling that warm, soft flesh meet his at so many points at once! It was as if she were gently kissing him all over. Oh, the joy of having that lovely body, that other personality waiting to submit to him, to join with him in an orgy of heart-pounding pleasure!
For several seconds Cardinal Roderigo just lay on his daughter, rubbing his fat penis on her fleshy lower belly, grating his hairy chest against the smooth silk of her breasts, moistening her lips with his tongue, licking her closed eyelids, stroking her golden plaits as he worked his loins into an unendurable state of dynamic tension.
“Lucrezia, my sweet darling,” he whispered. “Now I am going to give you real delight.”
In answer she gripped him with her slim arms and hugged him tight, murmuring simply, “Oh, papa, papa!”
Cardinal Roderigo slipped his hand down between their bodies, rough hair of his on one side, glossy, white flesh of hers on the other. He felt his penis, swollen and hot as the summer sun; he went beyond it and his hand was engulfed in a shallows of sticky moisture from the vagina. He found the vagina and moved his prick down for the entry.
Lucrezia's arms tightened around him in frightened anticipation, her legs hung limply apart.
“Now, my darling,” he muttered.
The hot, wet knob of his cudgel slipped on the moisture of her thighs, encountered — deliciously cool — the soft, giving wetness of her vaginal lips and then, with a gasp from them both, moved into the opening of her aperture.
Inside his breast was a sudden rush of relief as he felt his knob clasped in that soft, soothing embrace. Inside his head, he thought, Oh, at last. Thank God, thank God!
In the liquid clasp he thrust smoothly forward to a tighter region and Lucrezia uttered a stifled scream and jerked her hips backwards. But he followed them with his loins and jogged gently on her, probing in on farther, moving his prick in and out just an inch or so while she became accustomed to the pressure.
Gradually she relaxed and her thighs went limp again on either side of his hips. He put his hands under his chest, between their bodies and squeezed her breasts hard and she drew in her breath with a swoosh, and wriggled invitingly down in the region where his hot organ was waiting to advance.
He flexed his hips in a little more and Lucrezia gasped and drew back again.
“Oh, papa, papa,” she moaned. “It hurts, it hurts!”
“We'll go gently, my baby,” he breathed. “We have plenty of time. Soon it won't hurt you.”
After a second or two she untensed again and he screwed his loins in little circular motions on hers, pushing his penis no farther into her passage.
He turned her face which was pressing, sideways, into the bed, and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, licking the corners of her lips until she responded and thrust her own little tongue at his.
He screwed her gently, so gently, moving in a fraction of a centimeter at a time. Every time he moved in she tensed and he moved farther for a while.
He found it excruciating not to be able plunge right up her to the very hilt of his er, but it also inflicted on him a fresh innovation, a self-torture which was exquisite.
A considerable heat had been generated between their bodies and he saw that little beads of perspiration were bursting forth passionately on her forehead. No doubt she was sweating between her legs too. He slid his hands up the sides of her body, lingering over the rim of breast which oozed out from under him on either side. He moved his hands under her armpits. Yes, they were sweating, too. She was in a real answering fever heat.
Down at his loins a point of passion was growing, a thin pricking of red-hot sensation amidst the mass of indefinable loveliness which was her wet, excited cunt surrounding and eating at his prick.
The thin pricking of sensation seemed to be a bursting point; it seemed, of its own accord to be bursting up and up into her passage and it was only when she cried out again in anguish that he realized he was thrusting in with greater and greater force. Only this time he couldn't slow down, couldn't stop and mark time with his prick to allow her to recover.
Tightly he held her upper arms while he wriggled his hips in closer.
“It won't hurt, it won't hurt, in a moment it won't hurt,” he wheezed through his leaping breath.
“Oh, it hurts, it hurts, oh, oh, oh!” Lucrezia moved her head from side to side, but made no further effort, realizing the futility, to jerk her hips away from her father's.
His great prick was like an elephant somehow got inside her body and barging in still farther. She felt as if her belly, her loins, were being purged in a painful, splitting scourging. And always, always as she thought it eased, the pain broke out afresh and the great object tearing and thundering inside swept up, impossibly, farther and farther.
She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears oozing from them. She bit her lips and gritted her teeth. She couldn't stand it. She wished it had never begun. It wasn't like with Cesare. It was pain such as she'd never experienced. Was this how women were when they had a child? She would never have a child. Never!
But Cardinal Roderigo was in delirium. He moved his hands under her behind, pushed his fingers right around to feel his own organ crushing into that tightly-grasping pipeline. He squeezed her buttocks in a paroxysm of sensuality, thrust his fingers at her little rosebud anus. And all the time the fire in his prick was growing and growing, drawing oaths and obscenities from his mouth. He had nearly disappeared into her body now. There was little left to go. By the time of the explosion which was twisting his lips with its imminence, he would be crushing right in, stuffing her with the entirety of his penis. He pulled her thighs up to facilitate his last two centimeters.
“Oh, oh. What a delightful little hole,” he choked. “Daughter — you're the best — the best — I've ever — had.”
Lucrezia heard these oaths and mouthings with a slight chill of fear. This had got beyond expectations. But she was relieved to find that the pain had got no worse and that, apart from a soreness in her vagina, everything seemed to be much easier and she was actually recapturing some of the earlier sensation which had flattened in her as soon as the pain came. Papa had been right after all. It would only hurt for a while. In fact, now, as it became easier with every thrust he made and she began to wriggle her loins and thighs against him, it seemed impossible that a few minutes before she'd been ready to die from anguish.
“It's all right, papa,” she whispered. “It — it doesn't hurt so much any more.”
Her words spurred Cardinal Roderigo on as if she had suddenly bitten the blunt end of his rod. There was a sweetness, a submission about the way she told him that made him feel strangely sadistic.
He pulled her thighs up at an even more acute angle with her belly and pushed home the last length of pulsating flesh. Lucrezia gasped, but a gasp which was three parts pleasure, one part shock.
The Cardinal's loins were aflame. His penis was heavy and prickling inside her. It felt ready to burst along its whole length. His belly was heaving in and out enough to give him a heart attack, his hands rifled her bottom, pinching it, grabbing it in paroxysms, digging at the anus which squirmed on his fingertips.
“Oh, Lucrezia! My darling!” he moaned.
“Papa, papa,” she answered tenderly through her regrowing passion.
His lips moved, but no sounds came out except his choking breath. It was coming. He rammed smack into her, burying his staff so deep that his hairy surrounds cracked against her vaginal lips with force and made her squeal. In his belly there was a churning, a churning that was pure essence of sensation. Everything paled, he felt dizzy. The heat and solid pricking fury of the sensation was everything, but for dazed impressions of this beautiful body, this beautiful daughter lying under him, giving him this ecstasy from her lovely passionate flesh.
In the depths of his chest a long-drawn, choking gasp slowly followed the course of the long-drawn, loin-convulsing drawing of his fluid. He called her name through his moaning. He leaned up from her except for his loins. He gripped her waist just above the hips and squeezed it with more and more force as the fluid rushed inside him, fought its way to his penis and with a last rush shattered out and up into her writhing channel, inundating it as he jerked uncontrollably, inundating it until it rolled slowly out of her vagina between her wide-flung legs in the wake of his collapsed penis and he let go of her waist and slipped exhaustedly down onto the warmth of her flesh. Red marks were left on the tender white flesh where his hands had gripped.
Lucrezia had been aware, through her own passion, of the groaning and writhing around her as if a thousand demons were suddenly raping her body from all sides. She felt the hot jets of sperm spurt inside her, with a twinge of pleasure. And then, a few seconds later, she felt fresh twinges of disappointment when her father sank limply onto her and the solidity was withdrawn from her vagina leaving a sudden cool rush of air and the shadow of solidity in its place.
Her vagina was hot and a piquant burning remained. She was sore, but not so sore that she wouldn't have invited further entry to assuage her desire. She sighed and tensed her thighs against the Cardinal's hips.
He seemed to come out of the heavily breathing state of coma he'd fallen into and he stroked her thighs without moving from his position astride her.
“You learn very fast, daughter,” he said. “I'm exhausted as a galley slave.”
In answer she wound her legs around his and rubbed her cheek against his chin.
He lay on her, inwardly chuckling now, knowing her unquenched desire. It was warm and highly pleasant having her provocative body as a cushion. The wound which had just allowed his sperm to flow from him would soon be cured and then he would be ready for fresh action.
Lucrezia unwound her tightly clamping legs after a few minutes and slithered them in underneath his. He felt her soft little belly squirm against the rotundity of his and then the live pressure of her well-covered hips.
“Did I not hurt you, my sweet?”
“Yes, papa — but it changed halfway and I began to feel that I wanted to die in such happiness.”
And she has yet to die in it, he thought, yet to feel the soporific spread of satisfaction from her father's punishing penetration.
He rolled off her, at last. His prick, hot and tender, had half-risen again. He glanced down at it below the bulge of his belly and then he took Lucrezia's hand and placed it on the hot length of flesh.
Lucrezia looked down at the organ which had began to expand in her hand. She held it gently as if it were a hand, wondering at its great heat.
“Caress it, my love-particularly the knob,” the Cardinal said, pressing his thighs one against the other.
His daughter obeyed, drawing her fingers gently, as if afraid, over the smooth, white skin from its hairy base to the fiery red knob at its extremity.
Cardinal Roderigo felt an explosion from him as if passion had broken out from a small cell, shattering the walls, and was now pervading the corridors, the antechambers of his entire body. He flexed his hips against the side of her thigh. He crossed one ankle behind the other, turning his body into an arch with the foremost point his penis. His heart began to gather speed in its pounding once again.
Lucrezia gained courage-or curiosity as the Cardinal became more and more impassioned. She allowed her fingers to slip away from the rigid, fleshy stem to fondle the hairy balls below. They, too, were hot and hairily smooth and she gathered them in her hand, weighing them gently in her palm, wondering at the strange makeup of man. The very feel of his genitals excited her, too, making her wet and exposed-feeling between her legs so that she closed her thighs and grazed them together achingly.
The Cardinal began to undulate his legs, breathing noisily through his hairy nostrils. He leaned his head over onto her, laying it against her breasts, brushing his smooth cheek from one to the other, sucking a nipple, descending the hill into the valley, climbing the opposite hill and kissing that other nipple which shot out like a flag on a mountain top.
Lucrezia felt overcome with a desire to kiss his whole body in return. She swayed over and lay her head on his chest as he relaxed backwards before her gentle pressure. She kissed his hairy chest, loving his breasts with her mouth. He placed his hand on her soft head and pushed her gently downwards. She let herself be pushed, let her head move down him, her lips moistly blazing a trail down his hairy flesh as they passed.
Her hand still held his prick which reached forth for the ceiling, trying to grow like Jack's beanstalk. As her lips crossed his lower belly, his muscles tautened, his prick became a shrieking urge. He wanted to bury it in her-in that soft, learning mouth which was moving toward it. He caught her head by the hair, roughly, so that she gasped and pushed her face down the last few inches which separated it from his prick.
She got the idea immediately and he felt her lips, tantalizingly light and feathery, running up the stem of flesh. He cringed within himself, gritting his teeth.
He held his breath for what seemed an asphyxiating length of time and then he let it out in a long, gasping sigh as the mouth closed softly, like a vagina, over his radiant knob.
From what seemed a great height above him on the bed, he could hear her lips gently sucking. There seemed to be no correspondence between the noise which inflamed his ears and the actual pulling of her lips on his prick which sent chill after chill coursing through his body.
He had released her head as the mouth clamped over his penis, but now, wanting to plunge his rod farther into the tightness of sensation, he reached down again and forced her blonde head down against the rearing pikestaff. He felt his solid heat shoot forward, grazing her teeth. She gave a choking, muffled cry. He undulated his hips with the fury of a whirlpool and heaved them up at her face. He looked down at her slim, flushed face and the distended lips pulling on his prick which had been half swallowed in her mouth. The sight added to the sensation and his eyes narrowed, his lips broke apart, his hand tightened on her soft, fine hair.
In her mouth, his prick seemed to be thickening and thickening every second. His hand moved hard and violently over her head, pulling on those golden plaits, pressing the head with convulsive fingers. He wanted to bury his prick in her throat-but somehow the mouth and throat were not enough; the sensation was not consistent along the length of his rod.
He watched her sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes closing and opening in her passion. Her slim, sleek back, white and without a blemish was presented to him, blooming abruptly into the luxury of her lips and soft, full buttocks that invited caresses, invited the pressure of another body.
He watched her buttocks. They slithered whitely one against the other, an outward sign of her inner excitement. They were smooth, lovely convexes of flesh. He longed to reach out and touch them but he couldn't reach. He longed to press his loins against them, to feel their convexity in all its voluptuousness crushed against the elastic roundness of his own belly and loins.
He pulled her head sharply from his loins, j Her mouth came off his raging prick with a I sharp sucking noise. She looked up at him with her deep, blue eyes half open. His penis was tingling, the feel of her mouth still around it needing to be replaced.
He slithered down behind her, lying along her back, and put his arms round her to fondle her breasts with their erect nipples. The coolness of her buttocks exaggerated the heat of his penis against them. He pressed his prick against the soft mounds of flesh, biting his lips.
With his hand he reached down and explored her thighs from behind, pushing his fingers between them until he found the long portals of ultra-smooth moisture. He began to caress her vagina once again, kneading the hard, erect clitoris.
Immediately she began to wriggle in the most abandoned way and to moan in a manner which made him impatient to plunge his prick hard in and give her something to moan about.
His prick was down there between her legs, brushing against his searching fingers. He needed only to jerk forward and it would be once again between those milky thighs, breaking in with a strong, skin-rending pressure which would set her atrembling.
He eased her over onto her face. She went just wherever his hands guided. She seemed quite lost to anything but his touch.
Quivering with anticipation he lowered himself onto the provocative pertness of her buttocks, feeling them warm, soft and giving under his loins. His penis waved between her thighs which she had opened. Now he couldn't wait. Every moment was torment.
Swaying back onto his knees, he pulled her up onto her knees in front of him. Her bottom reared up at him, her face was pressed into the bed within the framework of her arms.
There, like a great cleft moon, her behind was juicily presented to him. Her thighs were spread, the lines between her knees forming the base of a triangle, the point at her thigh junction where he could see the red, wet opening of her cunt, its apex. She was kneeling before him like a sacrificial offering. She was his to do with as he wished.
He placed himself behind her. He eased her lips open with his thumbs and ranged his prick against the opening. Then with an all-pervading tremor of sublime pleasure he surged into her.
Lucrezia, her lips working, her mind confused with desire, knelt before the Cardinal, with her bottom right up in the air under his eyes. She felt his thumbs against the lips of her vagina and she squirmed against them, contracting her channel in concentrated passion. She moaned again-and the moan became a cry as, with the force and relentlessness of a battering ram, his great rod which had recently been filling her mouth to the choking point, tore into her channel and raced up with great momentum into the depths of her belly. This time it was easier and less painful, but these thoughts didn't occur to her at the time. She was aware only of the slight pain, the nakedness of her bottom, her whole body and her desire to submit, to be used, raped, hurt even and to enjoy, to wallow in her enjoyment which transcended any other type of enjoyment she'd ever experienced.
She heard her father grunting behind the weight of his hips which pressed at her so hard that they edged her forward on the bed and made her push with her hands to keep her position.
His prick, which seemed enormous — she could still not believe that it could really disappear inside her — bludgeoned in and drew back and then thrust right up again.
On her waist his hands were cruel in the way they gripped her with such force. She felt his knees edging her knees apart. He seemed to want to embed himself deeper and deeper in her. It made the whole of her loins itch and flame. She was aware of the contraction and expansion inside her, the sensation that a regular wave of movement was getting faster and faster, deeper and deeper.
The Cardinal gritted his teeth as the tight sheath of flesh slipped back along his complementary dagger. Her channel was tight around his length, but his knob seemed to want to go farther, to be squeezed so tight that it hurt him.
He thrust in and out, up and up with a regular, strong flow from his hips. His stomach was fluttering, his thighs twitching. At the extremity of his inward stroke he gave an extra flick, feeling her buttocks give and spread under the weight of his loins, hearing her gasps and gulps. Every few strokes he would thrust his own hot organ right in and leave it there, tightly held in her body while he squirmed his hips against her cool buttocks, reveling in the brushing contact of their separate flesh.
He moved his hands from her waist, which, it seemed, he could almost span, tracing them over her back, the lean, firm flesh. He pressed her shoulders into the bed as he drove his prick into her passage. He saw her shoulders shake and quiver, her bottom sway and rotate against him.
His prick felt like a trail of gunpowder rushing towards its annihilation in explosion. He ran his hands under her belly clasping her to him as he spread her thighs still wider with his knees. He clasped the flesh of her belly in small, elastic handfuls. He lowered his own belly onto her bottom, holding her in a close abdominal embrace as he smashed his loins against her, splitting her vagina with his evergrowing intrusion.
Subject under him, a willing slave, Lucrezia felt his prick filling her whole body. It seemed to surge right in up to her breasts with every thrust. And every thrust brought an involuntary explosion of breath from between her lips. Her hot face twisted in torment against the bed. Her hips waved and squirmed beyond her control. It felt as if his organ was as big as her entire belly and her belly was smarting and tingling and leaping with flame. In the middle of this overall sensation was a central channel of piercing stimulation where he surged into her channel, filling and spreading it as it tried to clasp him firmly.
Lucrezia heard her own groans as if they came from some other throat. She felt as if she were being dredged, all her entrails being dragged down into that channel. With a confusion of wild words in her head, many of them unspoken exhortations to him to fuck her to the last, to destroy her with his prick, she felt a great warmth spreading inside. It was a feeling she hadn't had before, an inexorable advance of nothing which shook her body and made her feel that the end of her life was near. She tried to say something to her father, to ask him! something, but when she opened her mouth only] muffled exclamations came out.
And the inexorable sensation went on and on and her hips waved as if they had their own delirium and her belly was afire with a burning-like snow. Snow rushing in an avalanche which was lovely and terrible, unbearable and all-desirable, unending yet moving quickly to an end. She groaned and cried out in loud, grating cries. Her whole body was moving downwards to pass out between her legs. She gasped and weaved her hips and pressed back against her father's belly, wanting his prick, loving him, loving the sensation, frightened of it- and now it was there, everywhere, a great bubble which was bursting, bursting and… “Oh, my God! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooooh!” A great flowing through, an escape and a slow ebbing, ebbing slowly, slowly, back to normal which was not normal because it left a wash and a new feeling.
Cardinal Roderigo was inflamed with the sight and sound of Lucrezia's culmination. Her tortured face, pressing into the bed, remained in his mind even when it had calmed and the movement of her lips was nothing more than a muted recognition of the force of his continued penetration.
He felt a great outreaching for her, as if it were not enough to be screwing her here on the bed with all his power, as if he needed to destroy her to ensure a truly positive action.
His penis, hard and with the skin drawn back so tightly that it was often painful, pistoned into her, disappearing up to the very hairs of his belly which became wet and stringy from her liquid outpourings. His penis felt harder and more solid as the moments rushed dizzily past and his mouth opened and closed with furious wheezings. When he gripped her he crushed her tender flesh sadistically, reflecting the force of his grip with a renewed vigor of his thrust. With every forward motion which tightened his buttocks into hard, male globes he crashed against her behind pushing her forward, pulling a little cry from her. Within him he felt the curling up of the spring which would suddenly snap straight again at the point where it could curl no more. He wanted to push farther and farther into her body to some impossible point. Sensation gripped every hard, fleshy centimeter of his penis. His grip on her waist grew. He fixed his gaze on the little ring of her anus which he noticed now as she pushed her buttocks back at him. It was small and crinkly. He would have to have it someday soon. He watched it, the focal point of those revolving buttocks. He concentrated the whole force of his attention on its hairless contraction. The spring was winding up and up and up. He gritted his teeth. His eyes glazed over the little button. He moved his finger to it, prodded it, felt the cringing reaction. The spring was winding to breaking point. He felt he couldn't stand any more. He couldn't get any farther into her. It must come to an end now. He heard the murmurs of her breath. The anus was like an eye socket looking at him. He gasped, thrust forward in a long, hard stroke and then convulsed in a series of quick tremoring jerks as he spattered his fountain of sperm into the moist sheath which had held him so well.
Lucrezia wriggled a little, at last, from under his dead weight which had become too much for her. Her back ached a little where it had been curved in a concave while the Cardinal satisfied his passion on her.
Feeling her movement, the Cardinal rolled off her and flopped down on his back. He watched her nestle down beside him and wondered how long he had better stay. Then he thought of the sleeping household and decided he had time to show her a few more things yet.