“Just think, Uncle,” she said dreamily, “I fucked a man who has fucked a queen-and right under her nose, too.”
Robert's mouth dropped open. “Good God! That's a hell of a thing to say, even to me! Aside from the fact that your language is worse than a dockhand's, you said yourself that the queen was virgin.”
Plumping up the pillows behind her, Belinda leaned against them. “Maybe, but if he isn't exactly poking it up her vagina, I'll bet he's doing everything else. He's such a pompous, vain creature that I couldn't imagine her keeping him around for his company. Of course, he's awfully pretty.”
Still a bit indignant, Robert snorted. “Isn't pretty an odd choice of word to describe a man, and a hardened solider at that?”
“It's a good thing he's better in battle than he is in bed,” Belinda giggled,” or even God could not keep England safe. If the queen is, indeed, being deprived of his services as a cocksman, she isn't missing a great deal.”
Before he could answer, she slid down on the bed and rolled on top of him.
It isn't easy to remain self-righteous when an abandoned young lady is rubbing her choice, naked body all over you while burying her tongue deep in your ear, and on this occasion Robert quickly stopped trying.
She did keep her promise, though. The hot-tailed little minx probably wriggled happily under half the men of her wide acquaintance, but she was sufficiently indiscreet that Robert heard nothing that bothered him too much.
Lala sighed deeply, and Robert became once more aware of the sleeping girl curled against him. Her cropped, black head and silken arm gleamed darkly against his hairy, white chest, and again he admired the beauty of the perfect example of chiaroscuro the tableau created. He stroked her back, tracing with his finger the line from her shoulder to the deep indentation of her waist. He ran his hand over the sharply protruding little buttocks, and his penis started to thicken as he imagined how beautifully that plump bottom would present itself, if angled right.
He continued to stroke her, and Lala moved in her sleep, throwing one leg over him. Her action made the front of her crotch as accessible to his hand as was the back, and his fingertips lightly over the dark, outside lips. She had very little pubic hair compared to a white woman, and what she had was so tightly curled that is was not much more than a gesture-a half-hearted attempt by nature to leave the traditional outward mark of her mature femininity. He slipped one finger between the fat lips and found her clitoris. As he rolled it lightly under his finger, Lala murmured in her sleep and lifted her leg higher. Her knee now rested on his chest beside her arm, and Robert marveled at the girl's agility. Her form seemed to be quite without bones, and she moved into impossible positions with all the ease that a dowager might settle into an old armchair.
He continued to titillate, and Lala moved under his hand, arching her pelvis upward. Though erect and ready, Robert was in no hurry to mount the girl. It was wonderfully pleasant to lie and fondle her, enjoying the smooth, moist feel of her sex; the novelty of her dark skin and exotic shape.
He dabbled experimentally in the wet pool at the base of her triangle, and run one finger inside her, feeling the ridge of muscles that lined the tight channel.
Lala moved again, and he moved his hand back till once again it rested on her bottom, cupping one firm cheek. He had known steatopygous women before, but Lala's behind was like a little shelf that had been added to her body as an afterthought.
Feeling a gentle pull on his hirsute chest, he realized that Lala had awakened. Still twining a strand of his hair around her finger, she looked at him, smiling and bright eyed. He smiled back and, encouraged, she leaned up and kissed his lips softly. He continued to run his hand idly over her body and when he reached her ribs she stopped kissing him and giggled. He tickled her again and she squirmed away from him, laughing, and sat up. He grinned at her, and she squatted on her haunches on the bed. Cocking her head on one side, she looked him up and down. Then she jumped off the bed and pulled the table with the candles on it a millimeter nearer. At first Robert was at a loss, but he soon caught on to what she was up to.
This ritual performed, Lala squatted on the bed again. She waved her hand over him, her smile half-playful, half-serious.
“Now Lala. Now me see you. Oui?”
It would certainly be churlish to refuse, and it was rather a compliment that she thought his body worthy of inspection, so Robert gave his assent.
“If you like. Oui.”
She leaned forward, still sitting on her haunches, and Robert noted that she looked like a pretty, black grasshopper, with her feet together and her knees stuck out behind her shoulder blades.
For some minutes she stared intently, her eyes taking in every detail from his toenails upward. Slave or not, it gets a bit disconcerting to have one's body subjected to such scrutiny by a woman, especially a beautiful one, and unconsciously Robert tucked in his stomach and turned slightly, showing his lean flanks, his broad chest and shoulders to their best advantage. Her silence, the detached objectivity in her eyes unnerved him sufficiently that he was in danger of losing his erection, a thing no gentleman would wish to do in the circumstances, when she reached out her hand and touched him.
The light caress of her long, slender fingers acted like fuel to his dying fire, and he no longer had to concern himself with the condition of his member. For a long time she played over his body, stroking his skin, kneading gently, tracing the curve of his ear, his lips, his eyelids. As she prodded his stomach lovingly, she felt the muscles under her fingers tighten. Robert enjoyed to the full the sensuality of her fondling, but her touch had stroked the fire in his loins to the point where sensuality was being liberally laced with a strong lashing of plain, garden variety lust. By the time she reached his groin, lifting his tight bullocks, running her hand up the crease between his buttocks, and finally, enclosing with her fingers the hard, thick column of his penis, a clear fluid had started to trickle from him.
He couldn't see her face clearly and she was too far away for him to check between her legs, but he knew that she was aroused. She crooned to herself, a mixture of French and African that Robert couldn't understand, but even though the words were unintelligible, their meaning was clear.
He lay on the bed listening to the erotic music of her deep voice. As she continued to stroke his burning cock as lightly as one might stroke a wild bird, he knew there was one thing he wanted from her very much. She was a slave, true enough, and as such he had only to order her to take his swollen cock in her mouth and suck on it with those thick dark lips until the cream poured out of him into her throat, leaving him spent, but the very fact that he had this right to order, robbed the idea of any attraction it might have held. He wanted her to put her mouth on him, alright. He wanted to lie there, eyes closed, and drown in a sea of pleasure as that wet tongue washed him, as she licked and sucked and finally drained him, drinking every drop of his come as her checks and lips pumped it from him. But even more than that, he wanted her to want to.
Perhaps this was a form of lovemaking into which she had not as yet been initiated. Heaven knows, it was popular enough among the French and her tutor had been a French gentleman, but one could never be certain. Robert was about to put his hand on her neck and give her head a slight push downward by way of a hint, when Lala flattened her body at right angles to him and buried her face in his stomach.
To say she was pleased with her new master would be an understatement. The thick, hard masculinity of his body was something to be held in awe; touched with reverence and a sense of deep gratitude that she was allowed this intimacy, allowed to give pleasure to such a God-like being. As she touched him she could feel her body glow like a newly lit brazier and warm, thick liquid oozed from her and ran down her thighs. Not sure how many liberties she might safely take, she tried to contain her desire, but in an ecstasy of adoration she threw her face on him, running her tongue over his stomach and deep into the creases at the top of his thighs.
She looked up at him, passion and worship showing clearly through the anxious look in her eyes.
“I may kiss? Non? Oui?”
Robert tightened the muscles in his thighs so that his cock jerked upward, hard and throbbing. He wanted her so badly it took all his control not to grab that cropped head in both hands and drive his rod deep into her throat.
“Oui, Lala,” he panted. “All you want. Oui.”
She turned quickly and he spread his legs as she clutched his thighs, her warm, dripping tongue darting over his testicles, licking between the cheeks of his behind, sliding up his shaft to lick the drops that covered his purple nob. At last she moved over him and took him deep into her mouth. He groaned with desire and put his hand on her
