John protested vehemently. The sun had turned Belinda's skin a soft honey color, and her light frock was cut to reveal bare shoulders and a great rise of warm breast. She leaned forward to replenish John's glass and he felt her press that soft bosom against his arm. His fingers itched to surround the fat globe of her breast, and as he thought of the feel of her velvet skin under his toughened hand, he could feel his cock fill and stretch against his britches.
As they chatted, Belinda let her hand fall on his knee. Her fingers stroked lightly up his thigh, and the bulge in his pants grew harder, pushing painfully. The softly parted mouth, the wanting eyes, left him in no more doubt as to the welcome his attentions would receive.
“Would you like to see the farm?” Belinda asked, rising. “We can walk in the woods, now. The grounds still a little damp, but it's all right if we stay on the path.”
John stood up, pulling his jacket tight to hide his indiscretion. He wanted to take her here and now- perhaps on the same swing she had been sleeping on-not wait, as he knew he must, for a more private time and place. Damn the conventions, any-way!
He looked down at her as they walked. She was so tiny, barely reaching the middle of his broad chest. They walked into the thick park wood, and when a turn in the path hid them safely from the house, he took her in his arms.
She lifted her face, and he pressed his mouth against hers. Their lips parted and he felt her tongue dart into his mouth. Hungrily he lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly to him as he kissed her neck, her satiny throat, the beautiful lulls that rose to temptingly from the neck of her dress. Her breathing was fast and deep, and she murmured in his ear.
“'Sblood, girl, I'd like to take you right here on the wet grass.” His cock was hard and burning; a painful knot of lust writhed in his belly.
Belinda's feet swayed free, but she was held tight and she rubbed herself against him, panting. She could feel the great size of his rigid cock and longed to have it driving up her dripping cunt.
“Do! Oh, God, Captain, take me. I burn so.”
Her passion aroused him even further, and he was shaking as he set her on her feet. He grinned ruefully.
“And a fine sight we'd make, back at the house. You with your back muddied and leaves in that beautiful hair, and me with my knees as black as a hop pickers.” He shook his head. “No, it wouldn't be quite the thing, would it?”
Belinda leaned against him. “I hardly care.”
Through the material of their clothing, John's cock pressed hard into her stomach. Lifting her again, he slid one hand under her skirt, and heard her cry out in desire as his fingers found the wet V between her thighs. He played with the curled hair that covered her outer lips, then pushed his fingers deep into her soaking hole. God damn society, honour and all other hell-made curbs to a man's need! Belinda panted in his arms, twisting frantically on his fingers as he brought her to a climax. As he felt her body grow limp beneath the steel of his arm, he damned her to hell along with everything else. Why the devil had she let him get this far when there was nothing they could do about it? Se had been eased a little, perhaps, but he was in such a condition that he was afraid the straining of his aching cock would burst his pant seams.
In a fury of frustration, he set her again on her feet. There was something he could do.
“If you think you're going to send me home like this, you're as mad as a dolphin.” He put his hand on her head and pushed, unloosening his pants till the giant cock burst free, jutting out like the figure head of a ship. He had learned a bit about ladies in the past year, and he knew that under the manners and coquetry they were little different from the whores and street girls he had known. At any rate, he was not about to play the gentleman now.
Still holding her head, he pushed his pulsing nob between her parted lips.
“Suck, woman!”
Belinda ran her tongue over the swollen organ that filled her mouth, and John gasped as she began to move her head up and down, the inside of her warm mouth pulling on his jerking flesh. He looked down, watching her dark head working over him. His balls tightened, heavy with sperm, and he tensed his thighs, bracing himself against the flood of passion that pounded through him. She held the base of his shaft in her small hand, teasing what would not fit into her drawing, sucking mouth.
John felt the coil within him swirl and break and a torrent of semen rushed up his penis, flooding out his nob and down her throat.
He leaned back against a tree to keep from falling, as she kissed the still firm head, and carefully rearranged his clothing. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her long and lingeringly.
“You splendid little animal. That will hold me for the moment, but tomorrow I shall find a way to have you properly.” He pushed her away gently, watching as she straightened her dress and hair. “In the meantime, my gorgeous doxy, stay well away from me, or I'll have you on your uncle's dining table.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was still dark when the three figures rode out from Hollybum, the Finch estate. The road was, indeed, a mire, and it was hard going even with the best of horses under them.
Dawn improved things somewhat, and they were at last able to relax a little and look about them. Since the parish surveyor lived along this road, the undergrowth and hedgerows had been freshly hacked away. As the sun rose, the twitter of the larks could be heard as they woke to begin the new day. The new grain sprouts showed pale green in the bordering fields, steaming in the early morning mist. The air was fresh and clean, and the discomforts of the rutted pathway were soon forgotten as they turned into the main road leading to the Green.
Here they were joined by many others travelling in the same direction. They were of all classes and traveled by various methods. Many were on foot; some were on horseback and some on the backs of recalcitrant mules. Women and children, if they could afford it, rode in the gaudy, springless carriages and though the conveyance saved their legs, it battered the rest of them unmercifully. Many of the younger women, like Belinda, preferred to take their chances on horseback. A few, the frail, or old, or very wealthy, rode in litters.
The density of wheeled and pedestrian traffic made things slow going for those on horses, but it was easy enough to leave the road and ride down the verge of the fields. It was certainly quicker, and probably a good deal smoother going than the road itself. If the crops got tramped, as they often did, that was the lookout of the poor devil who planted them.
By mid-morning, Belinda and the men were both hungry and parched. Although they had passed many cottages displaying the holly bush outside the door as an invitation to the thirsty travellers, they preferred to look for a regular inn.
The first one that suited them was located a scant mile from Bethnal Green. They rode into the courtyard and the two men dismounted. Robert smiled to himself as he watched John lift his niece from her saddle. If they hadn't already found a spot to get fucked in, they soon would.
“We'll do well here,” he told them as the stable lad lead away their horses. “I know 'The Red Bull' well, and they serve fine fare. They also have some fine French wine on license from Raleigh and I, for one, have a throat as dry as a dust storm.”
They entered the inn and were shown by their host to a private room upstairs. As they ate great plates full of meat and bread, of game and poultry, and fresh, early vegetables, they decided that they would be well advised to book rooms before going on to Bethnal Green. It was much too long and hard a ride to return home this night, and after the long day of pleasure, with the wine and punch that would accompany it, they would be far better travellers for a good rest.
After finishing their breakfast and making arrangements with their host, they mounted fresh horses rented from the stable and arrived at the green within an hour.
Robert departed on business, if it can be called business to seek out some buxom, willing lass to warm his bed that night, and Captain Fothering took Belinda's arm as they strolled about the crowded green.
People swarmed everywhere, the human mass ebbing forward, then receding like the tide. There were stalls
