One Wicked Night. Noelle Mack

cried out with pleasure. Her arsehole was quite tight at first, but she seemed to welcome my exploring finger in that place, and I enjoyed her shamelessness.

      My cock was ready to explode. I got up, and handled her somewhat roughly and ripped the dress off. I cared nothing for who might see it on the morrow.

      She kissed and caressed me with wild abandon as I carried her to the bed and tossed her down as she laughed with anticipation. Anne got on all fours and begged me to enter her. I refused. Standing behind her, I spread and spanked her buttocks until they turned bright pink. She moaned her satisfaction with my firm treatment of her flesh, whispering of her taste for the birch, taking and giving. Ah—my early fantasy of her whipping Lucy had been real enough. Had I a bundle of slender twigs at hand, I would have done that to Anne too.

      It seemed no surprise to her that a relative innocent could suddenly seem so sure of himself. For my part, I found out that one could learn many things very quickly when nature had its wild way. With my finger and thumb, I stretched her cunny lips apart and looked within. The glistening folds opened slightly, so swollen that only a thick and extraordinarily stiff cock could penetrate them.

      I grasped mine and came closer, pushing just the head into the soft heat of her cunny. I told her not to move—the delicate sensation of her ever-swelling flesh enfolding my knob was a thrill like nothing I had ever experienced. I rested my hands upon her back at her waist, the heat from her thoroughly spanked arse perceptible on my skin, and simply waited.

      To have my love in this way, poised and still, her ragged breathing the only motion she allowed herself, in deference to my wishes, was a very great pleasure and one I wished to savor.

      But the involuntary tightening of my groin and balls made me enter her with one powerful thrust. Anne cried out and rocked back, banging her hot arse against me. I clasped her waist and gave myself over to the sensations flooding through me, not wanting to come, unwilling to stop. She seemed strong enough to carry my weight and so I dropped down over her to hold her bouncing tits in my hands. The feel of her erect nipples in the center of my palms was all it took. I rammed her with all my strength as the first scorching jet pulsed through my cock—then another, and another, until it seemed that my very soul desired release.

      Together we found it…and as the hours went by, much more. I was well-schooled in her loving arms and taught everything I needed to know about how to please a woman. Young as I was, I thought at the time that the only one I would ever want was her. It was not to be.

      After that night, we were parted forever. From all reports she was soon married and a dutiful wife in the end, safe and secure as women must be, since they cannot make their own way in the world, but must needs rely upon the strength and support of men.

      But I wondered during the ensuing years if I had been her last young lover. Certainly it was not a subject that I would ever discuss with Thomas. My correspondence with him never even mentioned Anne—he knew nothing of my affair with his older sister and I wanted to keep it that way.

      But I have heard that Thomas has returned from the West Indies just this year. If I should see him on the street, I will enquire after her.