conscience and second thoughts. She nearly throttled him when he withdrew his hand, but it was only to toss away the now redundant shirt. A breath later, his bare hand replaced it in the niche between her thighs.
The exquisite artistry of Wilson’s fingertips rubbing and circling her clitoris was too much. She was too excited. Almost immediately her core began to ripple and clench, and, with breathless pleasure surging, she spent. Her arms tightened around him, and another time, she might have realized she was probably hurting him, but all she wanted now was to keep him and his divine hand closer than close. She buried her face in his neck to muffle her cry of release.
Her entire body was hot now, fired by her orgasm, but somehow what she’d felt still wasn’t enough. There had been other matters discussed at the collegiate, and despite the dangers, Adela would not be denied. She wanted more.
Falling back onto Wilson’s dressing gown, she hauled him down with her, feeling a triumphant rush of desire as his body pressed against hers. He was hard as iron, his member shoving against her belly.
This was uncharted territory, a world away from girlish dreams of romance, and her imaginings of what the matrimonial embrace might be like. This was darkness and danger on a brilliant summer’s day, and the rebel in her reached out for the risks...and for Wilson’s sturdy cock. He groaned as she folded her fingers around him. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, but it seemed to her that a man was sensitive in this particular area, and to treat him like a pump handle might be more painful than pleasurable. With a light grip and a slow stroke, she began to caress him, half her mind still amazed at what was happening.
“Oh, Della, Della, you have the touch of a courtesan,” he gasped, his hips pushing in time to her fondling. Adela faltered, doubting for a moment. Did she want to be compared to a light o’ love? And what did Wilson know about courtesans, anyway?
“Oh, don’t stop, darling girl, your caress feels wonderful. You have magical hands.... It must be the artist in you.”
Flatterer.
She was glad to please him, though. He’d certainly pleased her, and she was all for fair play, for gratitude expressed. But it was more than that. The way Wilson’s cock felt to her hand was intriguing, fascinating and delightful. It almost seemed like a discreet living entity of itself, rather than a part of him. It was the very essence of life, and of man.
He made strange noises. Rough groans and grunts, muttered words, some of them very crude, but raw and exciting. The very sound of his voice was a reciprocal caress, stirring her without even touching her.
“That’s it, Della...that’s it...bring me off....” The words were harsh, but she sensed he was still trying to contain himself and not shock her or grab at the pleasures her flesh represented to him. Did he think she was afraid? Did he think she was cold and indifferent, now that she’d had her release? Well, he was wrong. Her appetite had only just begun to stir.
Adela pushed her body against Wilson’s even as she played with his cock. She was on fire again, her belly alive with a gnawing hunger, and emptiness for which there was only one answer. It was madness to give in to the urge. Her rational mind knew that, but good sense and logic were being washed away by a force as inevitable as the flowing stream.
She took a firmer hold on Wilson’s erection and, parting her legs, drew him to her, wiggling around until she was right beneath him, open and ready.
“Della! What are you doing? We can’t do this!”
Adela’s eyes shot open and she looked up into Wilson’s. At their center they were black as night, giving lie to his words, just as his cock did. He wanted her, he hungered for her, but the learned man, versed in physiology and biology, was fighting to remain in control...and yet losing, in the same way her own wits were addled.
Yes, we can! I can’t bear it if we don’t!
She didn’t speak. She wasn’t capable of it. But she knew Wilson understood her completely.
“Oh, Della, Della,” he gasped again, moving into position. “I adore you, you are...you are... Oh, God, Della, you are perfect...so perfect.”
So are you! And so...big.
The head of Wilson’s cock seemed to know its way to the very quick of her, and pressing against her entrance, it felt huge and hot and rounded. Much too big to enter, surely? He pushed a little harder, and then, clearly feeling the resistance, attempted to pull back.
“No! Don’t you dare deny me!” As her hands clasped her cousin’s firm bottom, Adela was stunned by the sound of her own voice. It was that of an entirely different woman, an Amazon, an imperious goddess, not to be gainsaid or thwarted.
Above her, Wilson blinked, as if he was just as astounded as she, then dark fire blazed in his eyes, the devil answering her.
“Very well,” he growled, adjusting his position again, taking weight on his elbow and reaching down between them to nudge his cock to the sweetest spot with his fingers. His touch there again made Adela whimper, the sensation was so divinely lewd. She bucked her hips at him, interfering with his aim, yet unable to control her own body.
“Stay still! I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t care. Just do it! Just fuck me!”
Wilson’s body jolted as if the sound of the forbidden word on her lips was a lash of raw energy. His hips jerked, shoving the rounded tip of his cock against her, right at her entrance. Adela’s fingers tightened of their own accord on the firm rounds of his bottom, more to quell her own hesitation than to scotch his.
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