by Vlad Kahany
His lips and tongue covered her most intimate part, and May gave out a moan.
He started planting soft kisses on her clit, feeling her muscles tighten. Used the tip of his tongue to caress it, and she gasped, trying to conceal her excitement. His fingers parted the lips, and his tongue touched the burning core and slithered in one slow movement up to the top. She moaned, the movements of her hips betraying her desire.
He looked up, noticing the ragged moves of her muscles and breasts. He smiled, satisfied, and began licking at her wetness again, his tongue exploring the silky folds of her intimate spot as May kept gasping and moaning, trying to be silent but unable to do so.
He pushed her legs further apart and kissed the soft skin around her sex. Then licked on her flesh, his tongue moving like a snake, his lips tugging the clit and pulling it gently, playing with her. Her hands clutched the sheets, and her mouth gasped for air as she experienced for the first time the shock and satisfaction of being pleasured.
Lord Ashbee’s fingers took over instead of his mouth, stroking her sex gently, and he looked up at May with a content smile. Then his wet finger slid down between her buttocks to the soft shape of her anus.
May gave out a meek strained moan as he started massaging the spot gently, feeling her hips move to the rhythm of his fingers. Her hands clutched the sheets harder, and his mouth went back to the lips that exposed her pink clit, invading it with his tongue again, pushing into her gently, opening her sex like a bud, as his finger pressed gently into her back entrance. May’s breathing quickened, her back arched, and he kept going, not breaking the rhythm, and in just a brief moment, May erupted in a series of muffled moans, exploding in the most delightful orgasm Lord Ashbee had seen in a while. He kissed her sex several more times as if calming it and let it go.
When he pulled off the blindfold, his face was in front of hers. She was panting, her lips parted, the most beautiful color of rose staining her cheeks.
Her eyes said it all.
Surprise.
Shame.
Acknowledgment.
He kissed her softly, the taste of her wetness still on his lips.
Though calm on the surface, Lord Ashbee was mindless with lust. May was so hot, so tight, so wet, and so beautiful. He could barely hold himself. He could take her hand and make her stroke his erection but felt he would orgasm in seconds. He could spread her legs as wide as possible and plunge into her with all his swollen force, up to the hilt.
But, no.
He will wait.
This time, he will be considerate.
“Did you like it, May?” A faint smile curved his lips, the spark in his dark eyes like a wink of a devil.
“Yes,” she whispered, and her lips reached him for a kiss.
Ah, of course, you did, he thought. And he enjoyed watching her first experience, but now was time for another.
He got off the bed, unbuttoned his pants and took them off without taking his eyes off May.
His erection sprung free.
Ah, finally!
It was so stiff and thick, it almost hurt.
May was aware of it too, though afraid to lower her eyes for a proper inspection.
Lord Ashbee was on top of her again, propped on one elbow, the other hand caressing her hair as he kissed her.
She could feel his skin against hers. His chest pressed tightly against her breasts. The weight of his body on her.
So warm and overwhelming.
His legs between hers.
His skin against hers there.
And his member, brushing against her thighs.
His hand caressed her hips, then slid down her thigh, hooked her leg behind the knee, and set her foot on top of his thigh, opening her up even more for him.
“It might hurt,” he said in a low voice as his hand slid down between her legs and gently stroked her private parts. “Look at me, May,” he said. Their eyes locked, and she felt an object between her legs. It pushed into her softly, in sync with the slight movement of his body, then more insistent as if fighting resistance, then harder.
It hurt.
Another thrust.
And pain shot up between her legs, and she flinched and gasped.
“Shhhh, it’s all right,” Lord Ashbee whispered and thrust a little deeper, watching May’s face for the signs of pain.
A couple of more thrusts, and he was inside of her, filling her up, her core, so small and tight.
Oh, how divine she felt, the muscles of her womb tight against his throbbing erection as if her intricate parts were designed to fit him perfectly.
He started thrusting faster, for he knew it didn’t hurt her as much anymore and couldn’t wait any longer. She kept her eyes on him, felt his body move with every thrust, every movement resonating in their minds with the realization of their closeness.
Oh, it was worth the wait, Lord Ashbee thought as his body felt a surge of intense pleasure. Usually, he could make it last but was now reaching the peak too fast. He shut his eyes, his movements increased, and in just a short time, he pulled himself out, and his hand finished the act. He exhaled loudly, and that was the only sound of his pleasure.
It surprised May, for this act, the most essential one, didn’t give her any satisfaction. If anything, she thought it was too physical for being pleasurable.
Everything that followed took any romance out of it. He cleaned himself off the traces of blood, got dressed while May did the same, glancing shamefully at the bloodstains on the sheet, thinking that the aftereffects of any celebration, are always very grim.
Finally, he wrapped his arm around her waist and took her chin in his other.
“I know that you are not very impressed with the first time,” he said, smiling, “but it will get more enjoyable.”
She didn’t respond. Suddenly, she felt more grown-up. Wiser. As if this essential experience of the introduction to womanhood had already changed her.
“I will not bother you anymore tonight.” He gave her a soft kiss and stepped back.
“When am I going to see you again?”
“When would you like to see me again?” Their eyes locked on each other, but May did not answer.
She was conflicted.
Calmer.
Braver.
More accepting.
Proud, even. How ridiculous!
Yet, Lord Ashbee still made her nervous. Ah! He always did! Even now, he looked at her with a smile and the brandy-sparkling eyes, and it made her feel uneasy. But there was the new bond between them, the knowledge that he possessed her intimately, took her virginity, was the only man that ever bedded her. It shocked her mind and tickled his, and it was all in their eyes as they looked at each other.
The one thing that May had to admit, and she tried to be honest with herself, was that she wanted to try it again. His hands, his tongue, his mouth. She wanted more of his kisses. Longer ones. She wanted his attention again, between her legs. And the other part, that one act,—maybe it took time to learn how to enjoy it.
“Tomorrow?” she finally said timidly, her big grey eyes darker with want and this new anticipation.
“Tomorrow?” Lord Ashbee echoed in surprise, then walked up to her again and kissed her passionately.
Oh, May!
He felt aroused again.
No, he shouldn’t do it to her again. Not tonight, he thought and couldn’t stop kissing her.
He pulled away finally and brushed his thumb gently over her lips.
“I’m glad to make your intimate acquaintance, May. I will see you tomorrow then.”
He left.
Suddenly, the room seemed too empty without him. The scent of cigars and cologne still lingered in the air. The empty glasses and the bottle of brandy were a reminder of him.
So was the mild pain in her body…
So were the flowers that stood on the desk…
His voice, echoing in her mind, “They will remind you of me.”
Indeed.
; Her first time…
That’s not how she imagined it. Definitely not in a room in a brothel. With a stranger who paid for it. But somehow May felt drawn to Lord Ashbee more than to any other man before. It scared but excited her at the same time. She wanted to spend more time with him, listen to him talk.
Suddenly, she got up, went to the window and opened it wide, letting the cool nighttime air waft in. She stared into the dark street, listening to the sounds of the nightlife, the cheers, the grunts, the laughter, the rattling of the carriages on the main street. She inhaled the scent of the blossoming trees and stood like this for a while, lost in the darkness that Lord Ashbee had disappeared into.
—————
Lord Ashbee went straight to Lady Agatha Wells’s. Charles was already there though Walter was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is my cousin? He found a new company in London already?” Lord Ashbee inquired.
“I am afraid you showed him the most exciting place for company, Ray,” Charles answered and leaned to whisper in his ear, “He said he was going to the Belle House.”
“Ah, of course!” Lord Ashbee smiled.
“What is this place that is more exciting than my party?” Lady Agatha came over to greet Lord Ashbee.
“The place where men prefer to go alone.” Charles chuckled.
“Ah, those!” She waved her hand gracefully. “Where did you come from, Lord Ashbee? So unusually late, all mysterious, eyes sparkling, agitated, as if you’ve been with a woman. Who is it this time?”
Oh, the fox, Lord Ashbee thought. She was too perceptive and knew men too well.
“I am not sure you want to know, Lady Agatha,” Charles joked.
“Oh, I like to know as much as possible about Lord Ashbee. Everyone always does. Those who don’t—are either hypocrites or jealous or injured by his actions and try to stay away.”
“Just a new… project…” Lord Ashbee smiled mysteriously. “I do need a good drink,” he added, and Lady Agatha arched an eyebrow at him.
“The project must be quite fascinating,” she said and chuckled.
Lord Ashbee’s thoughts were, indeed, quite intense. There was nothing new in the first encounter with a woman, nothing special about one with a virgin either. Not for him, anyway. He wanted to make a woman open up to him, learn the ways. It was the magic of teaching a woman to fully understand the meaning of pleasure. With May, it was her mystery. The virtue. The delight of her shock at his every touch.
The recollection made his member stiffen again. Oh, how he wanted to take her again! Properly this time. Without restraints. He wanted to watch her discover new things, the possibilities of her body. She will, of that Lord Ashbee was sure. She will learn that she can be pleased and can please others. She might become a skillful lover herself, Lord Ashbee thought with anticipation.
Of course, that will go on until she is completely enchanted by him, in need of his skills, attention, sensuality. Then she will grow greedy and demanding. Will she? Like the rest of them? Lord Ashbee hated neediness, the most pathetic trait in women. He didn’t want to see it in May. Perhaps, that was the biggest attraction—she was so desperate to protect her secret that would rather deny herself the desires than admit that she needed him. But, then… Women! What unpredictable creatures! As if their decisions depended on the weather, or the color of the flowers, or the dessert they had for lunch.
But that’s later. Much later.
For now, Lord Ashbee couldn’t wait to get back to May and continue her education.
Later that night, way after midnight, he returned home and encountered Walter in the sitting-room and with a drink in his hand. His young cousin was already quite intoxicated and unusually agitated, waiting for his return.
“How was the Belle House?” Lord Ashbee inquired. He took a seat in the armchair across from the young man and studied him with a smile, seeing how Walter ruffled the hair with a quick drunk movement of his hand.
“Women, you know…” The young man shrugged his shoulders, and his lips stretched in a smile.
Lord Ashbee didn’t answer. There was something charming in the way one talked with authority about the new pleasures he had just discovered as if he was the masters of the trade.
“Tell me!” Lord Ashbee encouraged him.
“There is this one, Lucie is her name. She…”—Walter hesitated, wiping his mouth back and forth as if it brought back the memories—“she is smart, Ray. She is nice. Not like the rest of them. She… Ah!”—his head swung from one side to another as if fighting an annoying fly—“she is really nice! She doesn’t want to do this for long. She wants to save enough and open a coffee shop. She just doesn’t have enough yet. She told me! It’s true! You look at me like I am telling you lies. But she needs my help!”
“Walter.” Lord Ashbee sighed loudly. “You are too drunk to understand certain things right now and too young to know what women are. They are like cats. They don’t love you for what you are. There is always something that they need. Home, food, attention, money, status. When they are through, they will walk away and find another man to seduce. And if there is nothing to take, they want to possess you. Like a pet. They like to feel their hold on you and will say anything you want to get one.”
“She is not like that, Ray. She— “
“Walter! We’ll talk tomorrow, my boy.”
Lord Ashbee got up abruptly, cutting the conversation short.
There was no point arguing. He was tired. He wanted to rest. He wanted to be by himself and replay for the dozenth time the events that had happened in the Belle House. May didn’t leave his head. He wanted to close his eyes and sink into the visions of her naked body.
More than that…
He couldn’t wait for the next day when he will see her again.
CHAPTER 2
The next morning, when Lord Ashbee got up and walked into the sitting room, Walter was already there. Having just finished breakfast, he sat by the door that was open to the garden and drank coffee.
Ah, youth! Lord Ashbee thought. How quickly a young body recuperated after the nights of excessive pleasures!
Refreshed and in good spirits, Walter made small talk while the maid served Lord Ashbee breakfast. The young man seemed more restrained in his conversation about the Belle House and drew his eyes away at the mention of Lucie.
“Walter,” Lord Ashbee said, finishing his coffee. “There is only one thing that a young man of your age needs from women—experience. I know it is all new and exciting to you, and nothing stirs a young mind and senses as intimacy does, but there are many more interesting things to discover in London.”
—————
They decided on visiting Lord and Lady Dekker, who wanted to show Walter their greenhouse. Lord Ashbee himself was a lover of plants, and there was no other garden in London that boasted as many varieties as that of the Dekkers.
As they arrived at the mansion, it gave Walter a strange sense of déjà vu as he remembered his introduction to the sexual pleasures of London several weeks ago. The garden was indeed splendid. It was a large glass pavilion behind the main building. Surprisingly, Walter did not remember hearing about it during the party.
“That party was of a different kind. The garden would not have held your interest that evening.” Lord Ashbee chuckled at the memory of Walter’s first bedroom adventure.
The pavilion was warm and full of light. The smaller plants stood on wooden tables and shelves in several rows. The larger ones were on the floor all along the perimeter, and here and there were taller trees that reached almost to the top, touching the glass roof. Buckets, curious contraptions, holding poles, gardening tools, basins of all sizes stuck out here and there as well as notes and charts of all kinds that contained the description and information on the species.
Lord Dekker himself did the tour. Wrapped in a house robe, his hair a mess, he wasn’t quite a noble-looking man.
How different he looks, in the daylight, sober! Walter though
t, studying the host who led them from one species to another, explaining to Walter the plant varieties that he’d been collecting for years. There was something of a nerdy scientist in the older man who seemed nothing but a lustful rake several weeks ago.
“We get plant hunters that bring the plants and seeds from all around the world,” the old man explained, excited, waving his hands around as he led the two men along the aisle. “China, India, Philippines, Japan. Asia has a wide variety of unique species. Top prices, of course. And the danger of losing them to improper care. But the delight when they take up and bring the exotic note into this ordinary city! Ah!” And Lord Dekker threw the hands up in the air.
Each flower, he explained later, had a meaning.
“You are too young to know that one can express with flowers the feelings that he wouldn’t voice otherwise.” Lord Dekker gave Walter a condescending smile and winked at Lord Ashbee.
“White acacia,” he explained, pointing at a shrub with bulbs that showed white petals starting to poke out, “means friendship, while the yellow one stands for secret love. Purple Lilac is for falling in love. Yellow Iris—for passion. But don’t give the ladies Narcissi if you don’t want to come across as a selfish schmuck. The latter three are quite common around the city, anyway.”
“Calla Lily,” Lord Dekker continued throwing satisfied glances at Walter, who followed him with his mouth open. “A large white petal and a dark yellow stalk, protruding from the center—what an intricate design!” The old man chuckled. “To give one is to admit magnificent beauty, and Passion Flower, here, is to declare faith. If you think of yourself as a dangerous person, send a bouquet of Rhododendron, though it should be Lord Ashbee’s signature flower. So should be Orange Mock.” He laughed loudly, and Walter turned to look at Lord Ashbee, who rolled his eyes.
