thirds in. It was too late now for him to learn the art of complete penetration. His head was rolling on his neck, tendons were standing out on that strong young neck of his and a vein pulsed in his forehead.
Lucrezia whispered, but more lazily this time:
“Cesare, darling Cesare!”
Cardinal Roderigo watched his son's body twist up into the culmination of passion as he pressed his sister into the grass. His breath was coming in a series of quick little gasps, he put his arms around her body hugging it to him, he gasped her name at last, the first time it had ever been gasped in passion.
“Lucrezia… Lucrezia… Aaaaah!”
He convulsed against her, lost control of his movements, actually drew out of her in his excitement and fear at what he was doing and spurted over the grass.
Lucrezia, breathing hard again, stroked his face and shoulders as his hips jerked in the air like a death spasm. She glanced down as he rolled immediately away from her, doubtful and half-ashamed now that it was finished. She saw the thin lines of sperm on the grass, his penis, deflated and small now, with the thin bubble of mucous liquid protruding from the little red nipple at its head.
“Cesare-we've done it,” she whispered. She seemed astonished now.
Cesare didn't look at her. He lay on his stomach with his head in his arms. She rolled over to him.
“Cesare, darling, are you cross; do you wish we hadn't?”
He didn't answer and she put her arms around him in an almost motherly way and kissed his head.
“Cesare — don't wish we hadn't… because then I should feel terrible that I thought it was so wonderful.”
At that Cesare lifted his head and smiled at her.
“That's better,” she said softly. “You did like it didn't you?”
He nodded his head and she kissed him gently on the lips. She glanced around them and the Cardinal crouched softly back. His penis was still as hard and hot as a bar of red-hot iron.
''We'd better have another swim,” Lucrezia was saying. She looked at her brother with her deep eyes. “We will be able to do it again before you go, won't we Cesare?”
Cesare nodded, jumped to his feet, helped her up and took a running dive into the pool.
Lucrezia followed, smiling. And the Cardinal slowly withdrew through the bushes. “The sexy little bitch,” he kept repeating. “The sexy little bitch.”
CHAPTER 2
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
